The starship on screen appeared dead in space.
     "I've got no reading, Captain." Worf said to Picard.
     "It is like it's not there." Captain Picard responded. "Commander Riker take Worf and Doctor Crusher and check it out. And be careful." he continued.
     When the away team beamed aboard they were amazed because they encountered an island paradise.
     Standing and waiting for them was a tall, African American looking male, dressed in a brightly colored shirt, knee length shorts and sandals.
     "Welcome to Fantasy Starship." He said in a Caribbean accented basso profundo voice, even deeper than Worf's. "I am Mister Torque, your host."
     Strung out beside him were beautiful women and handsome men, all dressed in island garb. The women wore bikini tops and long sarongs, and the men wore short sarongs. Two olive skinned beauties stepped forward and draped lais around Riker's and Worf's necks. A male stepped forward and draped a lai around Crusher's neck.
     "Hey, I'm starting to like this." Riker thought with a smile as he looked around at the sand, sun, surf and the "excellent scenery".
     "Picard to Riker, report!" The Captain's voice sounded over his communicator.
     "Riker here. Sir, you will not believe. . . ." Riker started, as a group of laughing teens ran by holding surfboards aloft over their heads.
     "What is it, Will?" Picard asked as he frowned at the audio pickup. He could sworn he heard Calypso music playing in the background.
     "Sir, it's an island paradise over here. Sun, sand, and surf . . . . ." Riker started and nearly said "babes" but stopped just in time. He looked to the left at the very attractive Polynesian lady, who was clinging to his arm and smiling up at him.
     "Doctor Crusher, do you substantiate this?" Picard asked. Thinking her level head would prevail.
     "Yes I do, and I believe I'm going to go for a nice swim. The water looks fantastic!" Crusher replied, as she removed her white jacket.
     "Mister Worf! What say you!?" Picard demanded.
     Two women were in the process of holding up a series of brightly colored sarongs to Worf's waist, as if measuring him for a custom fit.
     "No." Worf said. One of the women took it to mean he did not like the blue one, gave it back to her companion, and selected a red and orange patterned one.
     "No what, Mister Worf?" Picard asked, becoming rather concerned. Of the three, he depended on the Klingon to be detached from mundane Human distractions, and to get the facts straight.
     "No! Klingons do not wear sarongs!" Worf boomed. The women promptly gathered their colorful wears and scattered, giggling as they went.
     "What the . . . . . ." Picard thought, as Wesley snickered. Picard gave "the boy" a withering gaze which silenced him.
     "Lieutenant LaForge, meet me in the transporter room. Data you have the Comm." Picard said, as he hurried towards the lift.
     "I'll get to the bottom of this!" Picard thought, as he, Geordi and a Security Detail of four beamed over to "the ship."
     An hour later, Picard, dressed in a brightly colored shorts and t-shirt set, relaxed in a beach chair with an iced coconut drink (in the coconut shell) and watched his crew frolic on the sand and in the waves.
     "Limbo lessons at 1800 hours. Surf and Turf dinner at 1930 hours. . . . . Now, how am I going to explain this to Starfleet?" Captain Picard wondered,
     He watched as Worf stiffly strode by. The Klingon was now wearing a red and orange sarong and was trailed by a group of ten women, like goslings following their mom.
     "I must remember to get a holo of Worf, because absolutely no one will believe me," a smiling Picard thought as he sipped his drink.