Dear Miss Manners, I need major help. Long ago I was assimilated by the Borg, and recently came to consciousness again within the body of your crew member Seven of Nine. It was all good for a while -- I was making deals again and swindling everyone like a Ferengi's supposed to -- but then Tuvok came in and pushed us all to the back of her mind and we can't get out. Can you figure out a way for me to escape? If not I fear I'll be stuck with the consciousness of an angry Klingon warrior and a whiny kid for all eternity. Grovelling at your feet, Ferengi Trader Dear Ferengi Trader, Vulcans! They just suck the fun out of everything, don't they? Just look at what that petaQ (that should make the Klingon Spelling Police happy) did to my last column. So, if I could help you, I most certainly would. Kahless knows that I don't get enough grovelling in my life. Oh, sure, Tom tries, but he always ruins it by giggling and licking my ankl -- never mind. Unfortunately, I lack the necessary telepathic skills to assist you in escaping the Spandex Fortress. I suggest you pass the time by turning the Klingon against the whiny kid and selling tickets to all the other repressed personalities. Sincerely, Miss Manners

Dear Miss Manners, As year five of your journey has drawn to a close, I have been quite busy throwing around ideas for your journey next year. Some exciting stuff is coming up, but I can't give too much away. Some things I can come right out and tell you (and I hope you don't mind me using your forum to do so): NO: you wont be getting home. Sorry, but we're saving that up for this really big time of year known as "May Sweeps." NO: Paris and Torres will not show actual signs of any really romantic chemistry and their relationship will continue to be stagnant (that way, the P/T'er get a "relationship" between them, but the anti-shippers don't have to put up with seeing them being "lovey" all the time. Clever, huh?). NO: Seven isn't going to get decent clothing to wear (why on earth would we want to do that??) and NO: Janeway and Chakotay aren't going to boldly go where the J/C'ers want them to, even if they do have so much chemistry that trying to write their relationship without it only makes my job so much the harder. ::sigh:: Anyway, the real reason I'm writing is, I don't think I get very much respect from the people for whom I produce my product -- a large mass that I will heretofore call "the fans". "The fans" think that I don't care about the job I'm doing, or that I am somehow either an incompetent or mediocre writer, and that I don't respect continuity or whatever. For the past year, my staff and I have written constantly and been under a lot of pressure, especially myself. "The fans" know about this, but they still don't seem to care! I've tried, but I just don't seem to know how to get any respect from them. Any ideas? I'd really appreciate it. B. Braga Dear B. Braga, You could try writing scripts with the same interior logic and considered character interaction as that letter, for a start. Then you could rethink that whole "Tom and B'Elanna will not show signs of any really romantic chemistry" idea and go with this instead: "Tom and B'Elanna engage in clever, sexy repartee while exchanging looks and caresses that imply the sort of sexual relationship that makes soundproofing and extra sheets a necessity and sleepwear a waste of replicator credits." Yeah, that works. Sincerely, Miss Manners

Dear Miss Manners, I've been having this strange dream lately. I dreamed I was this woman named "Victoria" who lived and worked on a farm in Indiana (not that strange since I was born and raised on a farm in Indiana). However, my crops wouldn't grow, the local sleazy banker who had the deed to my farm kept hitting on me, I had a rather annoying son who first kept bugging me to plant something in the North Field and then (after the crop was destroyed) to dig up the field! But he was in a wheelchair of some sort, so I guess that made him sympathetic or whatever. And to top it off I was having a really nice romance with this guy "George" I apparently knew since we were teenagers -- not bad, but he looked exactly like one of the Q who showed up on the Enterprise-D a few years ago! To top it all off --a spaceship always arrives at the end during a total eclipse and "cures" my "son's" legs so that he can walk again! Rather corny, don't you think? I don't know -- should I be worried? Is this dream saying that I really need to get out more? "Victoria" seemed so much like me (except that she wore strange 20th century type clothes that I've heard Ensign Paris refer to as "Jeans" and "Midriffs"). I'm worried. Should I be? Dazed Indiana Farm Girl Dear Dazed, It's only a dream. I wouldn't worry, until I started seeing an ugly alien with sharp ridges on his forehead and neck. Or a return of the "Men of Voyager" midnight coffee klatch. Sincerely, Miss Manners

Dear Miss Manners, Recently, strange things have been afoot on board the good ship Voyager. One day, when I was feeling particularly adventurous I ventured out of Engineering and I found that the farther I got from Engineering the stranger things became. I think, I could be wrong, that I jumped through a time portal and ended up on Earth in the late 20th century at a T.V set in L.A. Then, I appeared to be stuck there -- they locked the doors to wherever they were holding Voyager and I was lost on my own in L.A. Needless to say I had quite a lot of fun in this new place -- I worked in McDonald's and did improvisational theatre in Wisconsin (you should see My Lady Macbeth -- I brought the house down). Anyway I soon found my way back to Voyager as someone claiming to be my mother kept phoning me about getting a proper job. Back on Voyager, I started to realize that it would make more sense if none of this was real. You see Seven's Borg implants do come off, Janeway keeps going on about her kids (what kids?), and no one noticed that Torres was pregnant last year. Most conclusively: Chakotay's tattoo washes off in the rain (that is why it never rains on away missions). Also, someone who said he was my agent told me he could get me a small part in Party of 5 and that I have two lines. Should I take it? I mean 'Party of 5' sounds pretty Borg-like to me! Do you think it is a trap? Is this all fiction? Help me!! (I'm just delusional right?) A.N. Extra Dear A.N. Extra, Delusional is putting it mildly. I was most certainly not pregnant last year. That engineering smock was merely my attempt to send a few subtle sartorial hints to a certain sausage-casing-wrapped former Borg of my acquaintance. And I only baked those cheese puffs in the warp core to save me a trip to the mess hall. As for Party of Five -- it may very well be a Borg trap. Forcible assimilation of the audience is about the only reason I can imagine for the show being as popular as it is. Sincerely, Miss Manners

Dear Miss Manners, I don't quite know how to say this so I will just cut to the chase. There is a certain bridge officer that I find extremely cute and desirable. He's absolutely delicious in his floundering sort of way. I love how flustered I make him when I flirt with him. Yet he doesn't seem to respond. Instead he practically runs away from me. What's worse is his pining over my dumb, boring twin sister. I just don't get it. Do you have any advice on how I can capture his heart? A Stellar Twin Dear Stellar Twin, Remember, slow and steady wins the race ... and, eventually, the ensign. Fast and easy, on the other hand, keeps your dance card filled and your skin clear. The choice is yours. Sincerely, Miss Manners

Dear Miss Manners, I hope you can help me with a problem since you seem to have been in a similar situation. I am currently a lawyer in the JAG corps of the Navy, and used to be a pilot. I have adjusted well to my life as a lawyer and now have a great career as one of the Navy's best hot shot lawyers. I also have a great partner and friend in my shipmate Maj. Sarah Mackenzie. Just a few problems though: first, the Powers That Be keep pairing me up with other "romantic interests," and secondly, she has taken no interest in me whatsoever. Can you please help me? How did your Tom Paris win your cold heart? Lt.Cmdr. Harmon Rabb Jr. Dear Lt. Rabb, I don't know what Sarah's problem is, Harm. Quite frankly, you look good enough to eat in those Navy whites. Sincerely, Miss Manners

Dear Miss Manners, I have been cautiously improving my knowledge and expertise in psychiatry since the horrible mistakes I made in the repressed memory incident. The Captain had advised me not to sweep that under the carpet but to learn from it. I believe I have done so, and that my programming in this respect now has sufficient safeguards. I now need someone to be my first therapy patient -- someone whose problems are clearly evident, yet not so serious as to be in danger of developing major complexes in the unlikely event that my prognosis/counselling/treatment is not completely on the mark. I have noticed your obvious hostility toward Seven of Nine, a clear psychological problem which appears to be just the neurosis to sink my teeth into, since it does not appear to affect your professional and working relationship with Seven. Further, you are my "doctor" with regard to my programming, and could monitor the improvements I have made. I believe that we could both benefit greatly from starting therapy sessions. For instance, I'm sure it would be of great help to you to find out where your deep-seated hostility comes from. Do you perceive Seven as a threat to your position in Engineering, hmmm? To your position as one of the Captain's pet reclamation projects? To your relationship with Ensign Paris? Well? How about it? New Improved Shrink Dear New Improved Shrink, You're not improved enough, Doc. And don't make me tell you again to stop messing around with your program. Sincerely, Miss Manners

Dear Miss Manners, I know what you did last summer!!!!! Evil Movie Buff Dear Evil Movie Buff, And you're jealous, aren't you? Sincerely, Miss Manners

Dear Miss Manners, Were you five or eight when your father left you on Kessic 4 with your mother? I could have sworn it was eight, but I saw an episode where you said five? Must have been a confusing time in your life, what with all the pain sticks. One Evil Chiwawa Dear Evil Chiwawa, Probably not as confused as you were when you misspelled "chihuahua." If I said I was five when my father left, then I was probably five. And does it really matter? Would having him leave me when I was eight hurt less? Sincerely, Miss Manners

Dear Miss Manners, Until recently I was getting really bored, sitting there every day next to Ka ... the Captain: nothing to do, not much to say. So much so, I was beginning to feel positively wooden. However, something very strange has been going on for the last few months. Several of my female colleagues have had difficult personal problems and it's been a really interesting challenge sorting them out. I even got to be Captain for a few weeks. I've been having deep and meaningful conversations with other crew members for the first time in ages I thought we'd long since run out or new or interesting things to say to each other. Tom's built a new shuttlecraft. Harry's written a concerto. Seven seems to be getting rapidly more human, and her dress sense has certainly improved. Even Tuvok isn't glowering at me so much anymore. Why, not too long ago I even kissed a woman without her double-crossing me! I'm having trouble understanding it, but suddenly life seems to be so much more interesting and coherent again. What's going on? Not Depressed Any More Dear Not Depressed, If I had to guess, I'd say you were getting better drugs. Or more sex. But that hardly seems likely, does it? Sincerely, Miss Manners

Dear Miss Manners, All right, now enough is enough. I don't mind risking the ship and all hands for a real member of the crew, but for a reject from the Collective?!? I mean c'mon! Us senior chiefs are getting tired of the way she keeps calling us "Voyager Drones" anyway. But to make the ship sitting ducks in front of a transwarp conduit just to keep her strutting around in her new blue skin-so-tight suit is pushing us too far! And for Captain Uptight to risk our only doctor plus his only backup, Nurse Helmboy -- what would the rest of us have done if she had learned to say "Resistance is Futile"? Let Neelix learn how to make Band-Aids? Beware, the time of the Chiefs is near! Chief-Wanna-Be Dear Chief, I feel your pain. Do you think they intentionally made the sleeves of that new blue sausage casing darker than the torso so that Seven's arms would look skinnier and her breasts would look proportionately bigger? Or was it all just a "happy" accident? You be the judge. Sincerely, Miss Manners

Dear Miss Manners, Ha! I am on Earth and I have hacked my way into your ship's computer using my homemade multispace transmitter. Soon I will have made all preparations to play the Hokey-Pokey over the ship's intercom 26 hours a day. With an occasional excerpt from the Spice Girls. What do you have to say about that, huh? Genius on Earth Dear Genius, How smart could you be, if you actually purchased a Spice Girls CD? And we don't observe a 26-hour day on Voyager. Moron. Speaking of the Spice Girls, the other day, Tom met me at the door of my quarters, wearing nothing but a strategically placed Union Jack. Rule Britannia! Sincerely, Miss Manners

Dear Miss Manners, I spent 14 seasons alone on a planet with a hideous crime problem and nothing to eat but spiders. When men finally arrived, I had to settle for the emotionless one because the blonde, buff, and beautiful one was in love with some girl on his Starship! Could you tell me who this shrevott cott female is, so I can take her on a hunt? A session or two with her and my jabbing stick, and I'll be able to forget about logic boy and go for the good stuff! (PS: Do all human men look that good in tight tee shirts? If so, can I hitch a ride to Earth?) Spidergirl Dear Spidergirl, Shyeah. Like I couldn't take you like Sherman took Atlanta. And although I must agree that my gray-eyed sweetie-pie is handsome as the morning, Tuvok is pretty easy on the eyes, too. He's just dull as dishwater. And very, very, VERY married. Sincerely, Miss Manners

Dear Miss Manners, You all thought I was dead, didn't you? Well I've transferred my devious consciousness into one of the other holodecks that happened to be running when the gorgeous but devilish Arachnia killed me. You will find that my fiendish self now inhabits a character in the Sherlock Holmes program. I am conscious, and I WILL win this battle. Tell Captain Proton to meet me and bring his lovely Klingon fiancee. The game's afoot!! Chaotica Dear Chaotica, O.K., but this time I get to be the queen. And I want slave boys to carry me around on their shoulders. Tall, gorgeous, muscular slave boys. With very tiny loincloths. And Tom gets tied up and placed in peril and has to be rescued. Repeatedly. And he's grateful. Really, really, REALLY grateful. Yeah, that works. Sincerely, Miss Manners

Dear Miss Manners, You have most likely never met me, as I work in waste extraction, and as a result cannot see the effect that your relationship with a certain helm boy is having on my job. You see, our quarters are quite near one another, and all of your "intimate relations" are keeping me awake every night. I go to work everyday sleepless. I must warn you that if I do not get any sleep soon, I may not perform my duties correctly, and then the whole ship would be in trouble. I trust that you will deal with the situation. Ensign from Deck 9, section 12 Dear Ensign Party-Pooper, There's one on every deck. **sigh** All right. All RIGHT. I was about ready to introduce Tom to light restraint and feather play, anyway. That should be quiet enough for you. Except for the giggling. And the sharp intakes of breath. I just love it when he makes that sound. Sincerely, Miss Manners