The ABBA
By Mary Wiecek
~*~
Summary: You can dance, you can jive, but resistance is futile.
Disclaimers: Paramount owns Star Trek Voyager and all of it's characters. ABBA owns all of the songs mentioned herein (oh, don't look at me like that, you KNOW that you secretly love at least ONE of their songs…).
~*~
"They're the Borg," Jean-Luc Picard said, grimly.
"Sounds Swedish," Lily Sloane observed.
Star Trek VIII
First Contact
~*~
"Shields!" Chakotay shouted.
"They're hailing, Captain," Ensign Kim said, nervously.
A rather beat-up Borg sphere had materialized off of the port bow – out of nowhere. Janeway stood, alert, muscles taut – she lived for moments like this.
"On screen," she barked, as she assumed her best 'you don't want to mess with me' stance.
The screen flickered, and she blinked in surprise. Four humans stood regarding her calmly. Two were handsome and rather virile looking men (of course she noticed - she was a Captain, but she was allowed to LOOK), and two were beautiful and well-endowed women. All four of them looked inordinately tan, fit and…blissful. They certainly did not look like Borg drones.
"We are the ABBA," they said, in unison. "You will be assimilated. You can dance, you can jive, but resistance is futile."
Well, they certainly SOUNDED like Borg drones. Sort of. She heard a choked gasp of recognition from her right and she looked over at the source, Ensign Paris. His eyes were wide, and he'd gotten pale.
"What's wrong, Tom?" she asked.
"Plenty, if they are who I think they are," he replied. She turned and motioned for Kim to mute audio as Tom began punching commands into the computer on his console. After a few moments he called her over – she looked over his shoulder at the historical records that he'd pulled up. She gasped. It was the ABBA.
"They were a Swedish musical group in the 1970's," Paris reported grimly. "It was a dark decade in the rock era – and they burst onto the scene with their sappy lyrics and over-emotional vocals and…" he shuddered dramatically, "…it was awful, Captain. It was the most insidious of evils, because people just couldn't help themselves. Once you heard an ABBA song, it was impossible to get it out of your head."
"What happened to them?" she asked.
Paris smiled. "The 80's. People began to resist the mindless music and dance of the dark era and experiment with alternative sounds – they began to embrace individuality. The group faded from the public consciousness. However," Paris frowned, "they did have a brief resurgence of popularity again in the 1990's, when 70's retro became cool. That was the computer age. People would begin discussing the group on computer mailing lists and so on. One or two individuals could entice an entire list to purchase the music and listen to it again. It appeared that the group might take over the world once again. But then, on New Year's Eve 1999, all four of them, and many of their followers just vanished. Disappeared off the face of the earth. And were never heard from again. People speculated that aliens had abducted them…"
"It appears that's what happened. But that was hundreds of years ago. What are they doing here, now?" she asked no one in particular. "We need some answers. Open the frequency again, Mr. Kim."
She addressed the ABBA. "You are unlike any Borg that we have ever seen. We do not understand, and we do not wish to be assimilated."
"How can you not wish to be assimilated?" one of the men asked.
"The songs bring joy. What is life without the songs?" asked the other man.
Paris shuddered again. From his station, Kim said, plaintively, "Captain, I'm frightened."
Shooting Kim a sympathetic smile, she turned back to the ABBA. "Can we talk about this in person?" she asked.
"Of course," one of the women, a blonde, responded. "We are not as boorish as our Borg brethren. Our home planet is only two light years away. Please follow us there and be our guests while we discuss the matter."
In a brief burst of trust and optimism, Janeway decided to do just that.
~*~
Janeway stood at the beam down coordinates with Paris and Seven. She'd opted to lead the away team herself, remembering Chakotay's record with beautiful blondes. She needed Paris's expertise, and brought Seven along because she might have some insight into this strange new variety of Borg.
The away team looked around in confusion. The ABBA were no where to be seen yet, but there were beautiful blonde people everywhere. Most of them were dancing, or singing, or both…They could hear the strains of one song…
"A bailar, a girar,
Sabes reir y vibrar,
Miren bien, alli va,
Como un reina ya…"
"Isn't that Spanish?" Janeway asked, narrowing her eyes.
"Yep," Paris said.
"I thought you said the ABBA were Swedish," Janeway said.
"They are. They often sang in Spanish, though. No one knew why. It was one of the great mysteries of the time," Paris told her.
She shook her head, then straightened as she saw the ABBA approach, making their way through the pulsing crowd of dancing bodies. The other ABBA-ites touched them reverently as they walked by. She wondered if they were supposed to bow, or something. But she was Captain Kathryn Janeway, and she was not going to grovel to the ABBA or anyone else.
"We greet you," the blonde woman said. "I am Agnetha, and this is Frida, Bjorn and Benny. We are the ABBA." They were all wearing snow-white jump suits that looked like martial arts garb, or perhaps pajamas. It was difficult to say.
"Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Starship Voyager," she nodded, "and this is Ensign Paris and Seven."
The ABBA gasped as Seven stepped into full view. They clustered around her admiring her hair and her skin and tentatively touching her remaining Borg hardware. Seven raised her eyebrows – something that she'd picked up from Tuvok – but did not back away from the contact.
"Golden child, you are one of us!" Agnetha cried.
"I am no longer a Borg," Seven stated. "I am an individual."
"We are not Borg, either," Agnetha clarified. "We are the ABBA. You are one of us!"
"No, I am not," Seven replied, calmly.
"You are SWEDISH! You are one of us!" Agnetha insisted, stamping her foot for emphasis.
Janeway decided that she'd had about enough of this nonsense. She needed answers. Now. She stepped purposefully between Seven and Agnetha.
"I have a few questions, if you don't mind," she said pointedly to Agnetha. "Is there someplace we can go where we can talk?"
"Of course, Captain," Agnetha replied, smoothly. "And perhaps while we are talking, Ensign Paris and Seven would like to have a look around. Bjorn and Benny would be pleased to escort them."
Janeway looked over at Paris, who nodded in acknowledgement. They needed to learn as much as possible about the ABBA. As she turned to leave with Agnetha and Frida, she told Paris and Seven, "Stay together, and be careful." Paris whispered one last bit of advice to her as well, "Try not to listen to the music…"
~*~
"It is true," Agnetha said. "The Borg abducted and assimilated us in the year 1999. They are always looking for Swedes, because we are strong and beautiful."
Janeway strongly suspected that beauty was not a prerequisite for Borg assimilation, but opted not to comment. She and the ABBA women were sitting in a gazebo overlooking a large bay. The planet was very Earth like. White clouds floating in a blue sky were reflecting off of the dark glassy surface of the water, which was surrounded by steep, rocky cliffs. A Fjord, Janeway realized. They'd settled on a planet which reminded them of home.
"We actually did not mind being part of the collective," Agnetha continued, almost wistfully, "But, alas, it was not to be. For you see, they assimilated us, but our music is deep within our souls. We were able to share it with the collective. Apparently, they found it…distracting."
"They said it was irrelevant!" Frida interjected, outraged.
"They couldn't get rid of us fast enough," recalled Agnetha, fondly. "But we enjoyed being part of a collective – we did not WANT to leave. They decided to remove most of our Borg implants, but allowed us to remain connected with each other. They gave us a ship and instructed us to go far, far away from them."
"Within a year, we found this planet," sighed Frida, "…so like home. We decided to stay."
"It was a wise decision," Agnetha said, "for there is something in this planet's atmosphere which prevents us from aging. We have lived here in joy and harmony for centuries – sharing our songs with those that we assimilate. You will be very happy here, Captain."
"I don't intend to be assimilated," Janeway said. In fact, she intended to get the hell out of here as soon as possible. These people were creepy.
"Oh, but you MUST stay!" Agnetha cried.
"You must feel the music in your soul. Let it sing in your heart!" Frida added.
"Look," Janeway said, "I love music. I listen to classical music all the time, but…"
"Classical music," Agnetha said, derisively.
"Bah!" Frida retorted. "You can't jive to that…"
Janeway could see that there was no reasoning with the ABBA. And she'd had enough of all this. She stood. "Well," she said, firmly, "It was lovely to meet you, but we'll be leaving now."
Agnetha held up her hand. Borg assimilation nodules shot out of her fingertips. Janeway froze, but Agnetha made no further menacing move toward her.
Agnetha said, "We are, of course, capable of assimilating you by force. We usually don't because we find it distasteful, and the music is usually enough to convince people to join us. I don't understand why you would not wish to join us, or why you would want to turn your hearts from the songs, but we will allow you to go…"
Frida gasped and looked at Agnetha in shock.
"We WILL allow you to go," Agnetha continued firmly, "in exchange for Seven. She is one of us. She must stay."
Frida clapped her hands in delight. "Yes! She can be our queen!"
"I will not barter any member of my crew," Janeway stated, unequivocally. "We'll be going now. With Seven." She stood and stalked away from the gazebo, in search of Paris and Seven.
~*~
Her heart sank when she saw them. She barely recognized Seven. Her hair was loose and free – shining brightly in the sun. And she was smiling – a broad, toothy smile – and twirling around and around, dancing to the dreaded music. And Tom was lounging in the arms of not one…not two…but THREE buxom blonde Swedish women.
"Tom," she cried, horrified, "You told ME not to listen to the music. How could you?"
"Oh," he shrugged, "Bjorn and Benny showed us a greatest hits compilation. I just couldn't resist. I was dying to hear 'Waterloo' again!"
"What about insidious, and evil, and the decade of darkness?" she reminded him.
"Oh," he hedged. "Well, I don't know…it's got a good beat!"
"AND," added Seven, "you can dance to it. It's BEAUTIFUL, Captain. I've never felt like this before!"
"Oh, Seven," Janeway said, sadly.
"Annika," Seven said.
"What?" Janeway asked.
"Annika. My name is Annika. I have decided to embrace my Swedish ancestry."
Janeway sighed. "We have to get out of here," she told them. "They want to assimilate Seven…I mean, Annika…and make her their new queen."
"Oooh!" Annika squealed. "A QUEEN! I will stay and be the Dancing Queen of the ABBA!"
"NO," Janeway said, firmly. "You aren't thinking clearly, Seven. You're coming with me. I want the Doctor to examine you. Let's go."
Annika pouted and Paris stood up reluctantly. One of the buxom Swedish babes grasped his tunic and began to sing,
"Rock me, give me that kick now,
Rock me, show me that trick now,
Roll me, you can do magic,
Baby, and I can't get enough of it…"
He looked at Janeway. He looked at the babe. He made a decision. Plucking his commbadge from his tunic, he hurled it into a flowerbed. "I'm not going back," he announced. "I'm not crazy. How often does a man get a chance like this? Honestly, Captain, if you were me, what would you do?"
She stared at him in disbelief, and remembered briefly to be grateful that she hadn't brought Chakotay down. Still, she needed to get Seven out of here and meet with the senior staff to see how they might be able to get away from the ABBA. She decided not to bother arguing with him at this point. Besides, B'Elanna would throw a fit when she found out…he'd never be able to escape HER wrath.
"Janeway to Voyager," she said, flashing a final death glare at Paris. "Two to beam directly to sickbay."
"They're all going to want to stay," Paris called to her, "once they hear the music!"
"No one on MY ship is going to hear this music," Janeway insisted.
"Too late," Paris grinned. "I already beamed up three crates of CD's…"
Janeway groaned as the transporter beam caught her.
~*~
The music was evil. There was just no other word for it. It emanated from the ship's comm system, in every room, corridor, Jeffries tube and turbo lift. The tinny sound and insipid lyrics were really getting on Janeway's already frazzled nerves. Paris had been wrong about one thing, though. No one wanted to leave and become part of a collective. No, they just wanted to bring the music along with them. Janeway wondered which was worse: allowing her crew to be assimilated, or being forced to listen to this drivel for the next four decades.
The Doctor was the only other being on the ship that seemed to be immune to the music's power, and for that, at least, she was grateful. She met him outside Seven's cargo bay.
"When you returned to the ship, I could not find anything wrong with her," the Doctor reminded her.
"I want you to look again," Janeway said. "You have to admit, she's not acting like herself…"
"No, but her brain wave patterns are unchanged. Her health is good - there are no foreign agents in her system. I can see no reason for her sudden change in behavior."
Janeway sighed, and they entered the bay.
The music in here was painfully loud. They spotted Seven immediately, swirling around and around over by her alcove. She was singing along with the music,
"You can dance, you can jive,
Having the time of your life,
Ooh, see that girl,
Watch that scene,
Diggin' the Dancing Queen…"
"SEVEN!" Janeway shouted, trying to be heard over the cacophony.
No response. She tried again. Nothing.
"Computer," she yelled, "Mute Audio!"
The music stopped. Seven continued spinning and singing for several moments before she noticed.
"Seven," Janeway said, gently.
"ANNIKA! I am ANNIKA now!" she replied, angrily. "Why are you keeping me here? I do not belong to Starfleet. I am free. I can go if I want to! You were willing to let me go with the Think Tank, why will you not allow me to make this decision now?"
"I think that they are manipulating you in some way," Janeway explained. "You are not behaving rationally."
The Doctor, who had been scanning her continuously with a medical tricorder, interrupted.
"There is no change. I must tell you that I believe her to be in full possession of her faculties."
"See?" Annika said. "I am fine! I want to stay! I want the music to fill my soul and bring me joy! I want to spread this happiness throughout the universe!"
Janeway shuddered. "Seven…no, Annika…listen, what are you going to DO here? You've been bored on Voyager, and there's even less to do on the planet."
"I am going to sing, and dance!" Annika said. "I will lead my people. I will be the Dancing Queen of the ABBA. I can think of no greater joy. Don't you see? It is my DESTINY!"
"I can't allow it," Janeway said. She gestured for the Doctor and they headed for the door. As they left, she heard Seven order the sound on again. Before the door closed, Janeway caught a glimpse of Seven, spinning around blindly with a tear-streaked face.
~*~
She sent the Doctor back to sickbay to double-check his results and try to find an antidote for the madness sweeping the crew. Then she decided that what she needed to clear her head was an oversized cup of coffee and something to eat. After all, she'd beat the Borg with coffee, why should the ABBA be any different? She headed for the messhall.
She stopped in her tracks after she entered the room. Had the entire universe gone mad? There were people dancing on the TABLES, for crying out loud. The music was playing in here, too, of course. Some song involving the words 'Ollie Oxen Free', of all things. Why was Neelix allowing this to go on in his messhall? That answer became apparent readily enough as he bustled in with a large tray of meatballs. He had donned one of the ABBA style white jumpsuits. It was a truly sobering sight. She hadn't realized that he had such thick fur on his chest.
"Can I get you something, Captain?" he asked, smiling broadly.
"No," she replied. She had completely lost her appetite.
"You know," Neelix told her, conspiratorially, "I really dig this whole ABBA scene. I seem to have been BORN to jive!"
"Neelix, what is jiving?" she asked, curious despite herself.
"Oh, Captain," he said, sympathetically, "If you have to ask, you just don't have what it takes…"
She should have been insulted, but she barely heard him. Her attention had been drawn to the two people dancing on the nearest table. It was B'Elanna and Harry Kim, and she hadn't recognized them at first because they had both dyed their hair platinum blonde. She actually rubbed her eyes. This just couldn't be happening. It was as if they thought that changing their hair would make them Swedish.
"B'Elanna!" she shouted, over the music. "Harry! Were the two of you able to get Tom to come back?"
"Oh," B'Elanna said. "We completely forgot. Sorry, Captain. We'll get to it right after this song."
"Or not," said Harry, grabbing B'Elanna around the waist. She laughed.
Janeway clutched her head with both of her hands. She had to get out of here. She turned and fled the room.
~*~
She sought shelter in the turbolift, although she had no destination in mind. At least she could be alone for a minute and mute the damned music. But it was not to be. When the doors swished open, there was Tuvok. He was standing perfectly still, his fingers steepled as if he were in deep meditation. But the telltale headphones gave him away.
"Et Tu, Tuvok?" she asked, wryly.
"Ah, Captain," he said, snapping to attention. "I have been…investigating this music. Most curious. The songs seem to have a tranquilizing effect on the human nervous system. Fortunately, of course, I am…immune…to it's…effects…" His voice drifted off as he became absorbed in his headphones again.
"What am I going to do?" Janeway asked herself, aloud.
"Well," Tuvok said, absently, "You can either let Seven remain here, or we will have to fight our way out. Their Borg sphere, while centuries old, will still be a formidable obstacle. I believe that we would suffer many casualties if we were to engage the ABBA."
"Thanks," she said. "You're a big help."
She got off the lift at the next stop, not even caring where she was. A blissed-out Tuvok was more than she could bear right now. She looked around. It was her deck…and Chakotay's. Chakotay! She brightened immediately. He was so centered and sensible. Why hadn't she thought of him before? Surely he had not fallen prey to diabolical sounds of the ABBA. She strode confidently to his quarters.
~*~
"Come on in, I'll be out in a minute!" Chakotay called from his sleeping area.
She entered his quarters with trepidation, but there was no music playing. Everything was quiet and serene, an oasis of calm in a maelstrom of insanity. Sighing with relief and gratitude, she sank down on his couch. She should have known that she could count on her Chakotay. She closed her eyes and reveled in the silence. She smiled when she felt him sit down beside her. She opened her eyes…
…and screamed. She leapt from the couch, covering her mouth with her hand. He looked at her quizzically, his dark eyes flashing concern.
"Chiquitita, tell me what's wrong…" he said, reaching for her hand.
Well, she had to admit – he looked a whole lot better in the white jumpsuit than Neelix had. It accentuated his dark skin, eyes and hair. The pants were just snug enough to make her notice…and appreciate…and the loose jacket, belted at the waist, revealed the bronze chest that she'd tried so hard not to look at several times in sickbay. And at least he hadn't dyed his hair blonde, but still…
"Not you, too!" she groaned. "I thought for sure that YOU, of all people…"
"Chiquitita, tell me what's wrong," he repeated.
"You're enchained by your own sorrow,
In your eyes there is no hope for tomorrow…"
She was grateful at least that he was NOT singing. She'd heard him singing in the sonic shower on New Earth. It was not a pretty sound. He was just staring intently into her eyes and speaking the lyrics in heartfelt tones.
"Chiquitita, tell me the truth,
I'm a shoulder you can cry on,
Your best friend, I'm the one you must rely on."
"Chakotay, for God's sake – you aren't SWEDISH!" she said, grasping his shoulders, willing him to come to his senses. "I need your HELP!"
"SOS," he murmured.
"What?" she asked, angrily.
"Where are those happy days, they seem so hard to find?
I try to reach for you, but you have closed your mind,
Whatever happened to our love? I wish I understood,
It used to be so fine, it used to be so good…"
He dropped to his knees and clutched at his heart. "Kathryn," he cried, "You must embrace the music, I think…I think it may be our last chance!"
So now he was trying to lure her over to the dark side with emotional blackmail. Threatening her with the end of his devotion and support. Well, it wasn't going to work. With a final scowl at her polyester-clad first officer and former best friend, she stormed out of the room.
~*~
She found herself in the turbolift, again with no destination in mind. Well, at least she was alone this time.
"Halt lift," she ordered. She was so tired. So discouraged. She didn't even bother to mute the damned music. The mawkish lyrics and tinkling accompaniment trickled from the sound system,
"Gimme, gimme, gimme, a man after midnight,
Won't somebody come and chase these shadows away,
Gimme, gimme, gimme a man after midnight,
Take me through the darkness to the break of the day."
"Good God," she exclaimed, banging her head against the wall in frustration. "I don't think that I can stand much more of this…" She slumped down to the floor and leaned against the wall, dejectedly. Her thoughts drifted back to Chakotay, and how he'd looked in that white jumpsuit. She thought about the words he'd spoken to her and sighed. As ludicrous as it was, they were getting to her. What HAD happened to their love, anyway? Where had they gone wrong? She thought back and decided that it had happened about the time that they encountered the Borg. About the time that Seven had joined them.
Then a strange thing happened. For ONCE in her life, she stepped back and looked at the situation objectively. She had a life-altering burst of clarity. Seven WANTED to leave the ship. And the Doctor had said that her mind was sound. Perhaps being the 'Dancing Queen of the ABBA' was her destiny after all. Who was she to say otherwise? She would let the ABBA have her, for crying out loud! Why the hell not? IT WAS ALL SO SIMPLE!
She stood with renewed vigor and ordered the turbolift to Seven's deck.
~*~
Captain Kathryn Janeway stood with her hands on her hips, facing the viewscreen. There, Annika Hansen, the Dancing Queen of the ABBA formerly known as Seven, stood in all of her glory. Her long blonde hair streamed down her back and she looked, Janeway decided, happier than she ever would have had she continued her journey with Voyager. There were tears in her eyes as she thanked Janeway for all she'd done for her, and for letting her go, and then, of course, she burst into song.
"I've been so lucky, I'm the girl with the golden hair,
I want to sing it out to everybody –
What a joy, what a life, what a chance…"
The entire bridge crew joined her for the chorus. By now, naturally, they knew all of the songs by heart.
"So I say, thank you for the music, the songs I'm singin',
Thank you for all the joy they're bringin',
Who can live without it, I ask in all honesty?
What would life be?
Without a song and a dance – what are we?
So I say, thank you for the music, for givin' it to me…"
With a final fond farewell to Annika, they broke orbit and warped away. Janeway surveyed the bridge with satisfaction. Paris had returned to the ship willingly, once he realized that his best friend was closing in on his girl. And once he saw B'Elanna's hair, which apparently turned him on. Janeway shook her head – THAT was going to take some getting used to. With the help of the Doctor, she had confiscated each and every one of the CD's, assuring the crew that they would be permitted to indulge their passions once a month at 'ABBA Night', which Neelix had graciously volunteered to host. And the best thing was, that pesky Borg was gone – in retrospect, aside from providing some useful Borg technology, she'd been much more trouble than she'd been worth. And Janeway had to admit it, standing there, on the viewscreen, Annika had looked regal and peaceful. Perhaps encountering the ABBA had been her destiny, after all. She folded her arms, lounged back in her chair, and smiled. All was right with the universe.
Chakotay leaned over his console into her personal space and said, softly, "Well, all's well that ends well. I'd say this calls for a celebration."
She moved in closer to him. "I was just thinking the same thing. How about dinner? About 2100?"
Chakotay grinned.
"Oh," she added, "and be sure to wear that white jumpsuit. Okay, Chakotay?"
He leaned still closer to her, until their foreheads were nearly touching, and said, in a voice so low it was almost a growl, "Sure…Chiquitita."
She smiled. She'd make something special and wear something soft and put on some music. Yes, definitely some music. Perhaps one of the confiscated CDs. She'd saved one for herself, of course. Captain's prerogative. She'd been listening to it. It was starting to grow on her.
The End…or is it…