B’Elanna Torres was stuck. Literally stuck, since her back muscles had locked into the crouched position she had been in for over an hour and now refused to cooperate with her efforts to stand. When she realized her predicament, she took a deep breath and counted to ten. Then she cursed and hurled a spanner across the deck of main Engineering.

It landed near the feet of Ensign Vorik, who looked at her with mild curiosity. "Is something wrong, Lieutenant?"

"Yes, something’s wrong," B’Elanna said through gritted teeth. "My back has locked up again. I need your help."

Vorik placed a hand on her lower back and applied gentle but persistent pressure. The muscles relaxed almost immediately, and B’Elanna was able to straighten up with only a dull ache remaining. "Thanks."

"I hope I am not being impertinent, but that is the third time in six hours you have required my assistance. Perhaps you should take a break."

She stretched carefully, trying to work out the kinks. "That’s a nice idea, but these systems aren’t going to repair themselves. We’ve still got a lot of work to do."

"I am surprised that the Captain took a course of action that had the potential for so much damage to the ship." Vorik looked around. Even after nearly twenty-four straight hours of work, Main Engineering was still a mess.

"Flying through a binary pulsar was extreme, but it was the only way to get those aliens off the ship and to end their medical experiments." She shrugged. "It could be worse. By all rights, we should have been crushed."

"If so, we would not be concerned with repairing the plasma relay system with parts from the holodeck."

B’Elanna looked at him, startled. Either Vorik had just made a joke, or she was more tired than she realized.

"Janeway to Torres," the Captain called over the comm system.

"Torres here."

"Can you join me in the mess hall? I need your help to get the kitchen functioning again."

The kitchen wasn’t functioning? With replicators down, that was serious. Plus, she was still out of the Captain’s good graces because of her behavior with Tom. "On my way." She picked up her tool kit, told Vorik to report when he finished with the plasma system, and left.

No one seemed to be in the mess hall when she arrived. "Captain?"

"Under here." The muffled reply came from behind the galley’s countertop, and Torres walked around. A pair of black-clad legs were visible on the floor, but the rest of the Captain was out of sight, under the burners used for cooking. For some reason, the sight struck Torres as funny, and she had to suppress a giggle.

"What’s the problem?" she managed to ask without laughing.

Janeway slid out from under the unit. "The plasma relays are shot, and the coolers are down. If we don’t get these repaired before the breakfast, all we’ll have is some miscellaneous fruit and leola puree."

Torres’ stomach flopped over at the thought of leola puree. "We’ve got what, three hours? We can do it."

She hunkered down on the floor, worming her way under the counter. For the next couple of hours, she focused on repairing the equipment and her conversation with the Captain was limited to the minimum necessary to accomplish that goal.

"I think that’s got it," B’Elanna finally announced. "Let’s give it a test." She slid out easily enough, but as soon as she was clear of the counter she realized she had a problem. Her back had locked again.

Janeway stood, facing the other way so she did not see that the Chief Engineer was still lying on the deck. Her uniform was smudged and streaked, and her hair was tied back in a single braid that draped down her back, almost to her waist.

B’Elanna looked up and again had to fight the urge to giggle. This was ridiculous. Even more ridiculous was the fact that the only thing she could think of was that the Captain’s hair had regained all the length lost when it had been sawed off with a rock to start a fire 18 months earlier. Surely she should be able to think of something more appropriate to the situation.

Nope. "Your hair’s long again."

Janeway turned, looked down. "What are you doing?"

"Checking out the ceiling. My back won’t cooperate."

The Captain shook her head, but knelt down to help her to a sitting position. "You should go to Sickbay."

Screaming muscles made the decision for her. "I will, as soon as we know this is working. Give me a hand up, will you?"

With one hand on her back and the other supporting an arm, Janeway helped her stand. Standing straight, though, was another matter. The best B’Elanna could manage was to lean forward from the waist at a 30º angle. "Kahless," she breathed as a bolt of pain shot across her shoulders.

The Captain looked concerned. "When did this start? Could it be one of the alien experiments?"

"I don’t think so," B’Elanna began. "It’s because…" She stopped. She knew exactly when she had first twisted her back; it happened when she and Tom were …busy… on top of the control console in Upper Engineering. That did not seem like the best explanation to give to her commanding officer. "Because I’ve been working in such odd places to make repairs."

To her relief, Janeway seemed to accept that explanation. "Let’s finish this and I’ll get you to the Doctor. Why don’t you just stand there for a moment."

That sounded like a very good idea. B’Elanna waited while Janeway tested the burner controls. The flames resumed at once, but they were too high. "Are you testing the intake?" she asked.

Janeway nodded. "Yes, this should be the low setting." After a moment, the flame reduced to the proper level. "There was probably some residual plasma left in the lines," she decided, and turned back to B’Elanna. "That should be enough for breakfast. We can do the rest later."

Behind her, the fire suddenly leapt upward as if the control setting had been pushed beyond maximum. Janeway whipped around, trying to cut the power. As she did, the long braid whirled around as well and settled on her back.

It was going up in flames.

Janeway didn’t notice; her uniform was fire-retardant and she did not feel the heat.

"Captain!" B’Elanna said. "Don’t move!"

Janeway whirled around again, and the braid flew through the burner’s fire again. A new strand of hair, about half-way up the braid, ignited.

B’Elanna, still bent over, spotted a pitcher on the counter. She grabbed it and told the Captain, "Turn around."

"What?"

"You’re on fire! Turn around!"

Janeway complied, and B’Elanna tuned the pitcher upside down over the flaming braid. The clear liquid oozed out slowly, much too slowly to be water. Impatiently, B’Elanna grabbed the braid and immersed the whole thing into the pitcher. There was a hiss, and a small cloud of steam, but the fire went out.

B’Elanna eased the pitcher away. The charred, uneven braid was coated with a thick, gooey gel. She sniffed the pitcher and almost groaned. "Okay," she said nervously. "The fire’s out."

"Thank you." The Captain reached back and touched the braid. Her fingers recoiled at once, and she turned to look at B’Elanna. "What is that?"

"Leola syrup. It was the closest thing."

"Leola syrup." Janeway sighed. Neelix had been saving that to make candy for Naomi Wildman. She touched the sticky mess on her hair. Suddenly her face became decisive. She strode to the opposite side of the galley and pulled the carving knife from its cradle.

"Ah, Captain – " B’Elanna began, trying to straighten. The headaches inflicted on Janeway by the aliens had driven her to take the ship through a binary pulsar; was she still reacting to their experiments?

Lifting the knife with an expression of determination, Janeway reached behind her head and lifted her hair. With one swift, blind stroke she hacked it off at the nape of her neck. She raised the pathetic braid into the air like a trophy. Then she went to the waste disposal chute and tossed it in.

As she faced B’Elanna again, Janeway shook her head, almost defiantly. The newly shorn hair fell free in a ragged line just below her ears. "All right. Let’s get this thing turned off. We can get by on emergency rations for breakfast."

B’Elanna stared at her uncertainly. "Captain, I, uh, I…"

"What, Lieutenant?"

"I’m sorry."

Janeway looked her in the eye. "B’Elanna, I would prefer that no one knows I set my own hair on fire. If anyone asks, the long hair was giving me headaches. Agreed?"

"Agreed." B’Elanna was relieved that Janeway wasn’t angry with her any longer. She waited while Janeway turned off the power to the burner, and then started to giggle. She tried to stop, but she was so tired that she couldn’t control it.

Janeway looked at her with raised eyebrows. "I’m so-sorry, Captain, it’s just that – you have the worst luck with haircuts in this quadrant."

For a moment, she tried to look stern, but then she relaxed and smiled. "I know. First a rock, now leola syrup. Does it look awful?"

She nodded, then regretted it, because the Captain’s face fell. "But you should go see Jenny Delaney. She loves to do hair, and she’s pretty good at it."

"I will then, after we get you to Sickbay." Taking B’Elanna’s arm, she led her toward the door. "Take a day off, Lieutenant. The repairs will go on without you. Have dinner with Tom, you’ve earned it. But…this is our secret, right?"

Bent over, hobbled with pain, B’Elanna smiled. "Yes, ma’am."

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