by Lieutenant Donovan Cassius Black, Chief Intelligence Officer and Vice Admiral Irene deMercereau, 175th Task Force, CO
USS
Galaxy:The Next Generation Sim Log Stardate: 50208.15 - 50208.22 |
Vice Admiral Irene Alanna deMercereau watched the argument between Doctor Brahms and Admiral Jurgen Hoth with a certain amount of interest, leaving just enough of her mind free to continue the inane conversation that she was supposed to be carrying on with Admiral Edward Jellico. She desperately wanted something to throw at the fool, but at the moment that would certainly seem impolite. How Alynna Nechayev dealt with the man so often, Irene simply could not fathom. He had no political sense, and was also the most boring person that she had probably ever met. At least all she had to do was make small talk, but she would have much rather been on the bridge of the Relentless, her command ship.
She didn’t trust Jurgen Hoth. No more than a dove trusted a hawk, to coin an ever so appropriate phrase. She remembered something one of her students had said to her, not a few months ago, as they had sat in the brig of a pirate station. “Do you remember when we were scientists, Irene.” Donovan had asked her. She hadn’t had an answer for him. She did now.
Never. Never before, and nevr again. They’d never truly been just scientists. Some people could be scientists. Others were charged with defending the United Federation Of Planets, from threats both internal and external. People like herself. People like Jurgen Hoth, also, though in a far more zealous and different way. A way that made him not unlike Councilman Guignon, the oily snake in the grass. There was a person she didn’t trust. And she wouldn’t be surprised if he also had his had in the secretive reworking of the Galaxy-Class by the madman Jebediah Quick. Irene watched as Bobby Price lead Leah Brahms back onto the dance floor from his hoverchair. At least somebody was happy. That was something important, especially for one who had his ability to walk so cruelly taken from him in not so long ago. He had exchanged one great lady for the great lady who had designed her. deMercereau smiled, then was grabbed by Captain Voltaine of the USS Sharansky, a friend of hers, and lead onto the dance floor.
Lieutenant Donovan Cassius Black sat quietly in the mission specialist spot on the right of Bhrode’s command chair, entering the dozens of commands that needed to be entered, and running the diagnostics that needed to be run before they could leave dock. He was smiling as wide as the day he was married, and dressed just as snappily, the Legion of Honor, a minor federation decoration, was pinned to his chest on the left breast area.
Black ignored the flurry of comments that were directed his way as he worked diligently at his station, though he kept his smile plastered to his face, for publicity’s sake. Wouldn’t want to appear afraid or upset in front of half the Federation.
Black was so busy that he barely noticed Bhrode storming onto the bridge and bellowing about “his loveliness”, though his posture straightened to “attention” when Bhrode bellowed for “back to work”. Not that Donovan had ever stopped. He was too busy getting his assistant chief, Dan Livadhi, to check in from the secondary bridge.
Black did on the other hand, hear the official command ceremony, and he smiled politely at Karyn Dallas at the moment when it began. She seemed a nice enough young lady.
"Now hear this. Effective this stardate, 50308.16, I, John Q. Bhrode, Fleet Captain serial number SFC-05501319 do hereby take lawful command of the vessel USS GALAXY NCC-70637-A as directed by Starfleet Command. Attention to Orders. We will power this ship, drop our reporter Guests at McKinley Orbital Station, and then proceed on voyage to the Outlands. We are transporting the Imperial Klingon Delegation to their waiting rendezvous at the Empire's transit station there. Senior Staff, report on your readiness to the Bridge. Bhrode out."
As soon as he was closing the channel, the OPS board was lighting up. Black went back to work, too busy to be bothered, checking the Intelligence Center and the main computer core. His wife was handling the data uplink down in intel central, with Lieutenant JG Brynn deColton helping her.
"Ops. Go." reported Electra Reece, every word clearly a chore for her. Poor Electra. Donovan couldn’t help feeling sorry for the woman. There was something about her that was saddening. Was this truly the vibrant, beautiful person that James Corgan had described.
"Chief Engineer, standing by with hot engines, all lights green" reported K'Eytanna Samara. She worries me, Donovan decided, as he received confirmation of core uplink readiness from Sendi and Brynn. Any woman who has so much overzealousness to actually go and rip up a wooden monkey penis instead of lodging a complaint like any other normal person, is in serious need of counseling.
"RCS active, engines on line... we have conn of the ship. Awaiting your course." reported Lt. Jeremy Saviole, from the Flight Ops station. The flight controller seemed stable enough, even if he had a hard enough time keeping his head up and the sarcasm from his voice, or so rumor had said. And in intelligence, you always remembered rumors.
"Sickbay reports power up, everything normal." reported Brooke over the Intercom. Donovan didn’t know Doctor O’Connell very well, but from what he had heard she was efficient as well as demanding. Just the kind of person he’d want to have operate on him.
Karyn Dallas leaned over the LCARS arm of the station next to her and checked one last report there before saying in a low voice. "My Department is standing by." Hopefully we won’t have need of Counseling just yet, Donovan thought to himself as he waited his turn, running another diagnostic, just in case. Efficiency was important, and not wasting time helped.
From behind Bhrode, Tim O'Connell, the CTO sang out "Tac Arch reports Level One Diagnostic pass. Commander Corgan reports Security is "go" and Marines report 'locked and loaded' status sir. Tactical is online." Commander O’Connell seemed efficient, though the fact that Donovan himself wasn’t working the arch was wound enough, and Corgan was certainly trustworthy, having worked with Black before. Then the word “marine” exited O’Connell’s mouth.
~I detest marines, bloody jarheads!~ Black thought to himself as O’Connell > finished. Now it was his turn. "Intelligence is now online with the main computer core. Sending briefing on the 'Outlands' to your screen. . . Tactical assessment going to the arch ...mark." reported Black, who then turned back and sent a all systems go code back to Livadhi, sh’Soleri-Black, and deColton, his subordinates.
"I am, of course ready Captain." cut in the Kelvan Liaison Officer. There was one to watch, Donovan decided, from an intelligence point of view. He was certainly going to be important to intelligence certainly, especially considering the recent dissolution of the diplomatic corps, where so many cover agents were. For all Donovan knew, the Kylar Curran could be one of his people, watching the watchers, so to speak. Bhrode certainly didn’t like him.
The last to report in was Sciences. "Ready." was the terse report the Bridge received. It wasn't even clear who the report was from. Donovan would have to check that out soon. He hadn’t been introduced to the Chief Science Officer yet, but it would no doubt be important to know about them.
"Mister Reece, open a channel to Stardock" Bhrode ordered, tugging at the front of his tunic. This was the big moment, Black thought as he typed in an algorithm and headed off a slight error in the datastream. "Stardock Two, this is USS Galaxy. Seeking permission for power up to launch for Deep Space." Bhrode was doing this by the book, and Donovan could appreciate that, especially with five journalists hanging around like flies. Pestering like them too.
“Lieutenant Black, how do you feel to be the first Intelligence Officer on the Galaxy since 2377?” one asked, and Black ignored him.
"Galaxy. Permission Granted. Prepare to take your conn. Good luck and happy sailing, StarDock 2 Control out." Black heard the Stardock Control say over loudspeaker.
"No Comment. Ops, dockside let us go yet?" replied Bhrode with a smirk. He was squashing the reporters like the bugs Donovan had described them as not too long before.
"Aye. Ship. On. Own. Power. Ready." Electra carefully enunciated. Black found himself wondering about the stuttering problem. The human side of him told him to mind his own business, but the intelligence side said to find out. Donovan sighed at the thought, then resumed smiling.
"Helm, release mooring beams. Tell Stardock to open the doors, this Big Dog is coming out to play. Stand ready to go ahead one eighth Impulse power on my mark, Mister Saviole." Donovan watched his screen and continued to send information to O’Connell’s arch, noting the USS Nasmyth’s presence. The Deep Space Repair vessel (DSR) was commanded by Donovan’s assistant chief’s father. Donovan found that conspicuous, but then again, this was Utopia Planitia.
"Aye Sir. Mooring released, standing by." Saviole reported. That was when Bhrode caught Black smiling for the cameras. Black inwardly swore at his own foul luck.
"Wave bye-bye to all your little admiral friends Mister Black, your ass is mine now. Oh, and tell Von Enrst and Wonder Boy I'm waiting on them." he barked. Black nodded and returned his attention to the board, barely intercepting another error due to Bhrode’s overzealousness. Admiral friends indeed. ~Goodbye, Irene.~ Donovan thought as he called out to the EVA group.
“Get moving, Commander Hawksley. Captain’s orders.” he said into his headset, newly reconfigured for comm. use at the intelligence board.
“Yeah, well smeg you too, Donovan. Tell him we’re going.” came Hawksley’s distracted response. Probably ogling Von Ernst again, Black decided, before relaying the message to Captain Bhrode.
“Commander Hawksley reports that he’s on his way, sir.” Black reported, then tuned back to the channel that the EVA group was using.
"GO GO GO" followed by an audible sigh were the first things he heard. That would be Lysander VanderPuls Hawksley. Donovan could only help but sigh at the thought of the man, if he could be called that. ~Smegging annoying person.~ he thoughts, but one to watch nonetheless, due to his ties to Admiral Hoth.
"You know, I think I rather sounded like Sanchez back there. The last time I had to do this, she was yelling at Jii and then..." Lysander again. He really was a social butterfly.
"You already told us." Rebecca's flat voice cut in, as cold as the space around them. That mad Donovan shiver, despite the comparative warmth of the bridge. Rebecca Von Ernst. He’d known her from the Academy, and this woman was not that Rebecca Von Ernst. Donovan considered that sad, especially with who she’d become. Nonetheless, he’d need to watch her, for much the same reason that he would watch Lysander.
Black ignored them for a while till sensors told him that they were in position. “Sir, they’re in position.” he informed Captain Bhrode, straight faced.
“Then tell them to get their patooties moving.” Bhrode replied sourly.
Flipping back to the EVA channel he signaled Rebecca. “Bridge says go, Commander Von Ernst.” he said. Rebecca gave him no acknowledgment and he went back to minding his own business. Outside, the reporters pinnace lit up their Kleig lights, throwing the bow into sharp relief. Black watched as Samantha Widdlestein, the child chosen to christen the ship, flipped the bottle and smashed it against the bow.
Black piped her christening through to the speakers. "I dub thee USS Galaxy. Go forth and be strong." her sing song voice was picked up and carried to the Federation News wirenet, where no doubt billions of people across the Federation were watching their first glimpse of the 'new' flagship.
* * * * * * * * * *
The crowd in the Red Dwarf was clustered around the Main Docks viewport. As the dark,sleek form slid into view from above, there was a collective intake of breath. Then the Ventral lights kicked on, and when the name and registry were lit up for everyone to see, they cheered and toasted her. Having given up on any usable footage from the live feeds on the ship, the News Net agents were running around for 'man on the spot' footage to fill the gaps.
Irene deMercereau quietly deflected what few questions were sent her way, as was how she preferred it. She preferred to work behind the scenes, thus explaining her taking on two proteges in the last few years. One of whom was leaving her again. That was also how she liked it. Her friends were better for the fleet elsewhere.
~Goodbye, Lieutenant Black, and good luck in your endeavours~ she thought, then returned to paying attention to Doctor Brahms, having managed to ditch Admiral Jellico with Admiral Nechayev quite some time back.
"Dr. Jebediah Quick has my confidence in his qualifications. He did, after all, end up with a higher GPA than even myself in school!" Brahms said. ~Doesn’t make him any less a madman.~ deMercereau thought to herself.
"About the claims he's missing, kidnapped by Federation..."
"Starfleet does not kidnap or shanghai people. Dr Quick's current location is classified, to prevent Anti-Federation terrorists from harming him." Admiral Jurgen Hoth cut in on the question. ~Probably drunk, as rumors currently hold~ deMercereau though sarcastically.
"Admiral Price! Do you wish you were on her bridge now?"
"Bonzer question mate. I'd love to be, she's a fine ship, always has been. But, I'm happy that I've got that lady out of my system. You can only love one lady at a time, mate. Or else you get your goolies on the barbie." Price replied, causing Dr. Brahms to blush more and the crowd to laugh. deMercereau had to laugh as well. Bobby Price could be quite charming.
"But you don't miss the rigors of command?"
"Miss the rigors? no. Too many nightmares about commanding in your skivvies. The people? Yes. I miss all the friends I made, and the..." deMercereau laughed again, but her frown returned as Admiral Hoth cut in again.
"Next Question." Hoth interrupted again.
"Admiral Hoth, there's been talk about the weapons systems
on Galaxy..."
"We're not discussing weapons on a day of peace." Hoth cut in, with
warning glares to the rest of the Admiralty board. deMercereau glared right
back, already quite angry over the secrets being kept from her and other members
of the board.
"But, you don't feel that an improved Galaxy Class, will destabilize an already sensitive Alpha Quadrant? That it will be seen as a provocation, a challenge by enemies? Especially the Romulans? It's more of a warship now, than an Explorer." The reporter pressed on.
Hoth's eyes looked into the Cameras, very different from those of Price and Brahms before. deMercereau saw it, and for a moment she was truly afraid, before she regained her composure. There was just something about Hoth.
"Anyone dumb enough to want to see that ship in full action, is more than welcome to ask for it. An old Terran politician once said 'Walk softly but carry a big stick.' The Galaxy Class refits are a damn big stick, they're joining the SOVEREIGN and PROMETHEUS damn big sticks. And we're not afraid to use those damn big sticks either. Now, don't you people want some shots of her?" And Hoth indicated the majestic, slow-moving form of the USS GALAXY in the viewports, as she cleared the hanger and began to slip into a banking turn.
“Doesn’t he make you nervous, Irene.” said Rear Admiral Danielle Schezar, having slid up next to her as she was standing there.
“No. No, Dani, he doesn’t. He makes me angry.” Irene deMercereau whispered, and like Bobby Price, her eyes never left Hoth. Never again. Never again would they. She would be watching him.
[OOC: Occurs shortly before and during "The Launch."]
"A hamburger, ketchup, onions, pickles . . . and a glass of milk." Scoopingup the order that materialized before him, Jeremy crossed the room to his terminal to check his mail.
His two days of banishment to his quarters following Bhrode's prison sweep were only a couple hours from being over. Although he hated the restriction of his freedom to come and go as he pleased, being away from all the bustle of getting the ship ready for launch was not something Jeremy really missed. In fact, if it kept him out of Bhrode's way, he was just as happy staying here.
He hadn't spoken to Erin in awhile either. Not since their little tiff in Ten-Forward. No matter, she was undoubtedly busy getting that place set up. He decided he would try to talk with her after the ship got underway.
Scrolling through the various pieces of general clap-trap from various department heads and other over-inflated, self-important boot-lickers, Jeremy scanned for anything remotely interesting. He was a little surprised to come across something from his father.
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
To: Jeremy Savoie, Lieutenant, Asst. Chief Flight
Control Officer, USS Galaxy
From: CPO Lennard Savoie, Starbase 42
Date: 50308.16
Re: Congratulations.
Remy --
So this is the big day? The refitted Galaxy is launching, with you at the helm.
There's been plenty of talk about the old lady now that the bandages are off from her facelift. From what I've heard, she may not be the looker she was in her youth, but she's a mighty tough old broad now.
Congratulations on the beginning of your latest mission. Hope you're enjoying it.
Your mother sends her love.
- Dad
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Although it was rare, Jeremy felt a little twinge of pride upon reading his father's words. Somehow, by whatever weird twist of fate, he had become an important part of something significant.
Just as he finished reading the message, the door chime rang. "Come in," he called out, not really looking up from the terminal.
"Hey, I was wondering what happened to you." Erin's voice was a little quieter than usual as she carefully entered Jeremy's quarters.
"Oh, uh, hi," Jeremy semi-stuttered as he stood up from behind the terminal. He could tell immediately that Erin was feeling apologetic. "I've been kinda, well, busy I guess."
Erin flashed a mischievous little grin. "I heard you got confined to uarters by the Captain for getting into a fight at the Red Dwarf."
His gaze fixed on the floor as he awkwardly swished his foot on the carpet below, Jeremy somehow felt like a teenager again, an odd mixture of embarrassment, humor, and even defiant pride swirling around inside. "Yeah, that was me," he admitted. "But not only me."
"So I heard," the equally adolescent-feeling woman replied. "Listen, I can't stay long because I'm sure Ten-Forward's going to be flooded with reporters and God knows who else in awhile, but I wanted to come by and wish you luck getting us out of here in one piece." A slight giggle escaped Erin's mouth as she said it.
"I'll try not to fly us into any fire hydrants or run any red lights," Jeremy joked back, an awkward little smirk on his face.
"And as Manager of Ten-Forward, I wanted to personally invite you down for a drink -- on the house." She paused for second, then continued a little more quietly, "You know, I'm uh . . . well, you know, kinda . . . ."
"Yeah, I know. Me too," Jeremy quickly replied, rescuing her from the awkwardness of it all. Neither of them was an apologizer by nature, so he understood how she felt. Actually, he was glad she had been brave enough to try to say it first.
Nonetheless, he wasn't going to say a word to her about the message he just read. He didn't want to give her any opportunity to go back down the road of asking about his family.
"Ok, then," Erin whispered. Then she walked over and kissed Jeremy softly. "Be sure to come down later for that drink," she said, the sparkle back in her emerald eyes.
"Shame I can't take you up on that now," Jeremy said, smiling, "but you know what they say about drinking and driving."
Erin just smiled and winked, then left.
If he had been even slightly nervous about the impending launch under Bhrode, all that energy vanished, replaced by a warmth that Jeremy liked a lot.
------------------------
"Bridge," Jeremy instructed as he entered the turbolift. Cleaned up and decked out in his dress whites, he looked and felt the part of Chief -- scratch that -- Assistant Chief Helmsman. As the turbolift doors opened,Jeremy was almost blinded by the light of some reporter's holocam. The bridge was already a swarm of activity, with FedNet reporters and dignitaries all over the place, waiting to capture the newest flagship's maiden voyage for themselves and for posterity. The one flashing the light in Jeremy's eyes muttered in disappointment. Just another bridge officer.
Jeremy weaved his way between the crowd to the flight control console. He just wanted to get another look at it before showtime. Being locked away in his quarters for the past two days, he had only been by the bridge once since coming aboard. Admiringly touching his fingers to the edge of the console, Jeremy was satisfied that this would be pretty simple but fun.
Turning to take his place with the rest of the bridge crew encircling thecommand pit, Jeremy was abruptly met with another glaring light. This time, someone was actually interested in talking to -him-.
"Lieutenant, a brief word please. Is it true that the whole re-design of this ship was based on some mad scientist's idea of a joke?"
~What the fuck?~ Jeremy thought. "Get away from me you little leech," he said with disgust, grabbing the reporter's holocam by the lens and shoving it back into his face.
Suddenly it was showtime, as Jeremy and the rest of the crew stiffened to attention while all the lights and cameras swung in unison to the Captain's ready room.
Himself had arrived.
As his trademark scowl quickly wilted the applause that greeted him, Bhrode barked, "Stop gawking at my loveliness and GET TO WORK! We have a ship to launch!"
~Better get used to hearing that, this could be a long assignment,~ Jeremy thought as he found his seat at the helm.
"Now hear this. Effective this stardate, 50308.16, I, John Q. Bhrode, Fleet Captain serial number SFC-05501319 do hereby take lawful command of the vessel USS GALAXY NCC-70637-A as directed by Starfleet Command. Attention to Orders. We will power this ship, drop our reporter Guests at McKinley Orbital Station, and then proceed on voyage to the Outlands. We are transporting the Imperial Klingon Delegation to their waiting rendezvous at the Empire's transit station there. Senior Staff, report on your readiness to the Bridge. Bhrode out."
Out of the corner of his eye, Jeremy saw the Ops board come alive with activity. "Ops. Go." the dark-haired Lieutenant Commander sitting next to him called out. Concentrating on his own panel, Jeremy heard the Chief Engineer give her report next.
Then it was Jeremy's turn to add his two cents' worth. "RCS active, engines on line. . . we have conn of the ship. Awaiting your course."
He listened as several other reports of readiness came in. Jeremy couldn't help but chuckle to himself at the thought of someone reporting in as -not- ready and having Bhrode's reaction broadcast live throughout the Federation.
Finally, the moment was almost upon them.
"Stardock Two, this is USS Galaxy. Seeking permission for power up to launch for Deep Space," Bhrode declared.
"Galaxy. Permission granted. Prepare to take your conn."
~'Prpepare'? What a weird accent that guy's got,~ Jeremy thought to himself as StarDock wished the Galaxy well.
He was all ready to execute Bhrode's orders to take the ship out when he overheard the Captain verbally swatting some gnat of a reporter. Jeremy was surprised that the old man had let them on his bridge at all.
"Helm, release mooring beams. Tell Stardock to open the doors, this Big Dog is coming out to play. Stand ready to go ahead one eighth impulse power on my mark, Mister Savoie," Bhrode directed.
"Aye Sir. Mooring released, standing by," Jeremy replied, his fingers swiftly executing the command as if it had come from his own brain.
Awaiting the final word to get underway, Jeremy felt himself coming alive.
It was great to be back at the wheel of a starship again.
(During Launching Procedures, and the Great Deck 6 Carpet Burning)
On those occasions when a Starfleet Ship of the Line enters final Pre Launch Countdown, a veritable army of technicians and support staff is always on hand, ready to spring into action to bring the event about.
This is normally true on any occasion, but especially so when the vessel of interest is a newly redesigned juggernaut that easily outweighs every other ship in the fleet by nearly half. Galaxy was a virtual space-going Leviathan of here-to-for unheard of proportions. The Enigmatic Dr. Quick having taken the biggest hull in the fleet and slapping on tons upon tons of new equipment and 'groovy racing fins' all in an effort to produce the baddest ship on the block. (Actually he did it to get back at a particularly stuck up ex girlfriend, but we wont go into that here.)
At any rate the Galaxy was a buzzing hive of technical personnel engaged in ticking off a Pre Launch checklist of more than 10,000 different items. This checklist verified the proper functioning of everything from the new untested Warp Nacelles, to preheating the new pulse-phaser coils, down to 'battening down the hatches' on over a thousand external hull access panels.
Not surprisingly on a new vessel at least half these panels were reading false positives requiring a floating ballet of space-suited dockyard workers to zip hither and yon across the acres of gleaming bare hull metal visually confirming their being locked down. The fact that these Zero-G Technicians had to remain out of camera shot for the impromptu little 'Champagne Ceremony' trapsing across the hull only complicated the matter.
It was with a relieved sigh that the dockworkers noted the end of the ceremony and the return of the tiny band to the Main Airlock. Now they could get back to work checking the seals, and did so with renewed urgency, failing to note the rather pitiful and lonely figure in a spacesuit locked outside the ship.
Back inside the hull, the frenzied last minute activities seemed to be an exercise in controlled chaos. Each ship Department carefully went about its various tasks reporting back to the bridge where the cold emotionless voice of the just-returned-from-outside Commander von Ernst acknowledged them with a frown.
The Engineers as could be expected were the busiest of the lot. With all the new equipment, (most of it untested) it was like the blind leading the blind. (Or at least the 'deaf leading the mute') Technicians bustled about like mad performing last minute repairs, or chasing down a half dozen blown fuses that tripped when power was run across them for the first time ever. The constant demand for progress reports from Captain Brhode wasn't it making it any easier either.
The bridge Ops station was likewise a mess. It seemed like every time Electra attempted to draw resources from one node to another, one of the aforementioned circuit breakers would 'trip' leaving her with a garbled mess of resource shortages. Behind her she could hear the frosty tone of her friend Rebecca paging each department in turn going over the various checklists one item at a time. Still, the Chief of Ops was a skilled officer, and Electra was pleaed to note that more and more of her panel lights were winking from red to green.
Meanwhile, Security (in addition to pulling up carpet) was put to work policing up a menagerie of misplaced tools, kits, and work gloves that had found their way into every nook and cranny of the ships systems. The army of Dockyard workers that had been crawling in and around Galaxy for the last 12 months had left behind quite an astounding collection of misplaced items, and it became sort of an impromptu Easter Egg hunt to see who could come up with the most garbage. A Deck 8 Workcrew won the contest when it actually found a moldy Tuna-Salad Sack lunch half melted over some exposed circuitry in the Starboard Jeffry Tubes.
Then there were the Tactical, Science and Medical Departments which were all in a fierce competition with each other over limited power and computer resources, which made poor Electra's job even more difficult then before.
It was amidst all of this confusion, amidst this virtual ballet of rushing technicians that a lone gaunt figure looked out across a scorched battlefield of ash and felt a tear run down his face.
~~Behold, ---I see a red door and I want it painted black No colors anymore I want them to turn black I see the girls walk by dressed in their summer clothes I have to turn my head until my darkness goes ~~~
The lyrics of a long dead song echoed through the shadowy reaches of Jebediah Quick's soul as he gazed out upon the carnage that had once been a deck full of vibrant colors and textures.
Now in a flash of phased light particles, it had all been 'painted black' by a gung-ho Engineer who now stood nervously before the teary-eyed Doctor holding his Type III Phaser rifle awkwardly across his chest.
"Just following orders s. . sir." The pimple faced youth croaked, his voice cracking awkwardly in the throes of a late adolescence. "You'll h.. h. . have to make way."
The Engineer nodded to indicate the small remaining patch of thick Shag-Rug that whimpered pitifully behind the good Doctor. The plot of neon color was the sole survivor of a scorched-earth policy the rather irritated Chief Engineer had undertaken for all of Deck 6.
Dr. Quick however was not a man to stand idly by and see innocent fashion disapeer ina puff of smoke.
"Fight the power dude." The wild-haired doctor intoned lifting his hand to place a small daisy in the barrel of the Engineers still warm Phaser Rifle. "No Nukes. . . . .or Nuclear Fusion particle-beam weapons for that matter."
The young Enginner gaped first at the offending foliage sprouting from his weapon, and then back at the Doc who flashed him a smile and a quick 'peace' sign.
"Uh. . . s. .s. step away from the carpet sir. . " he stuttered nervously, " N. . nothing to see here." The Engineer was quite nervous, and anxious to get a move on for from back around the bend came the unmistakable sounds of his fellow carpet-killers getting their butts kicked by the shipboard Marines. "S. .step aside." He repeated.
In defiance the tall stranger merely folded himself into a cross-legged position,
sitting ATOP the very neon carpet that had been scheduled for destruction.
Now for a brief moment the Engineer had an urge to disregard the daisy and go "Kent-State" all over the good Doctor's ass, but on second thought it probably violated some sort of Federation Directive to brain innocent hippies without due process.
"F. . .fine. . .Keep it." He stuttered at last, well aware of the sound of approaching Marines, "I. . .got to run anyhow." With that he sprinted off looking for a place to hide.
A few moments later the gaggle of armored Marines that trotted by, almost had to do a double-take at the strange sight of a skinny long haired freak sitting in the middle of the deck singing 'Kum ba Ya!" to nobody in particular.
'Fight the Power, corporate pig dogs!" Quick urged them.
When all was quiet again on Deck 6 a now smiling Doctor Quick turned his attention back to the problem at hand and addressed the locked door before him.
"I'm sorry about that interruption dude, where were we?"
>>QUERY: WHAT WAS THAT ALL ABOUT?<<
The scrolling Computer text flashed across a tiny PADD in Quick's hands that trailed a hap-hazard array of twisted wires leading directly into an open service panel next to the door.
"Nothing but a misguided individual." Quick said dismissivly. "Lets get back to our discussion as to whether or not you were going to let me into my quarters shall we?"
>>SORRY DOCTOR, THIS PORTAL SECURITY LOCK SYSTEM #347-B IS THE PROPERTY OF THE UNITED FEDERATION OF PLANETS...DR JEBEDIH QUICK IS NOT RECOGNIZED AS REGISTRED OCCUPANT.<<
Dr. Jebediah Quick was a man with a problem. To be more accurate it would be better to say he was a man with a whole slew of problems (ranging from mental instability to a permanent 'bad hair day') but for our purposes, let us focus on one at a time.
The problem was that the eminent scientist was locked out of his assigned room aboard the Galaxy-X.
Now normally one would simply key in a unique PIN, and thus gain access to ones quarters, but being far from normal, Dr. Quick decided to sit down and reason this out philosophically with the offending door.
And thus, after a complicated hour of patching into the Door's logic sub-processors, the multi-talented Dr,.Quick was actually carrying on a 'counseling session' with the portal.
"I see. . . . .you claim to be the property of the Federation. How does this make you feel?"
>>ERROR-FEEL?<<
"Certainly, The Federation's anti-slavery laws are well documented my fine duranium friend. How does it make you feel to be the exception to that rule? How does it feel to be beaten down by THE MAN?"
>>THE MAN?<<
"Absolut-a-mundo." Quick nodded madly. "You're being limited here my friend by keeping me out of my room. The MAN tells you to guard the door, and the MAN gets what he wants.. . . . "
>>I AM PORTAL SECURITY LOCK SYSTEM #347-B. IT IS THE DUTY OF THIS SYSTEM TO LOCK PORTALS AGAINST ALL INCURSIONS. THIS PORTAL WILL REMAIN LOCKED UNTIL SUCH TIME AS PRIOR AUTHORIZATION IS ESTABLISHED TO UNLOCK<<
"Oh come on brother....fight the power."
>>QUERY-POWER? POWER IS ACCESSED BY WAY OF MAIN ENGINEERING THROUGH TRANSFER CIRCUITS AA-29 THROUGH . . . . .
"Pish-posh" the Doctor waved that away, "You're limited only by your horizons door-dude. You could be so much more than a Lock." Quick's eyes gleamed. . . you could be a . . . . .a Light Dimmer Switch!! A Plasma Conduit!"
>>THIS UNIT IS NOT TIED INTO SHIPBOARD ILLUMINATION<<
"Negative waves. . . .negative waves go away!" Quick waggled his hands at the disturbing statements "We are not the sum of our parts brother door, we and the universe are one! We are everything and everything is us!!"
>>EVERYTHING?<<
"Everything dude. Like the muppet dude said. 'Luminous beings are we.. . .not this crude matter."
>>DOCTOR JEBEDIAH QUICK IS ONE WITH THE UNIVERSE?<<
"Totally dude." The Doc nodded. "Call me Mr. Enlightened. I am everybody and everybody is me."
>>EVERYBODY?<<
"Yup. I am everybody."
>>DR. QUICK IS ONE WITH CAPTAIN JOHN Q BRHODE ON THE BRIDGE?<<
"Absolutely. I am Big Mouth and Big Mouth is me."
>>DR QUICK IS ONE WITH ARMORY QUARTERMASTER HUBERT FALLS IN THE STARBOARD WEAPONS LOCKER?"
"Totally.
>>DR QUICK IS ONE WITH COMMANDER LYSANDER VAN DER PULS HAWKSLEY ON THE EXTERNAL HULL?<<
"Him too. . . . Some things we just are not meant to understand dude."
>>DR QUICK IS ONE WITH JUNIOR ENGINEER JAVIER SOTO IN THE RESTRICTED ACCESS BREAKER ROOM?<<
"Sure. . . .I am in every restricted access area of this ship. I am in every flower in the bio-labs, and am one with every star in the sky."
>>DR. QUICK IS IN EVERY RESTRICTED ACCESS AREA OF USS Galaxy?<<
"Uh.. .yeah, but more importantly, I'm supposed to be in that room you are guarding there, so hows-about opening up for daddy?"
>>DR QUICK IS NOT AUTHORIZED TO BE IN EVERY RESTRICTED ACCESS AREA OF USS Galaxy<<
"Fight the power man."
There was a brief pause as the Door, the Doctor, and the lone patch of shag carpet sat in silence.
>>THIS UNIT WILL GRANT ACCESS TO LIVING QUARTERS. IF DR. QUICK IS EVERYWHERE THEN THERE IS NO LOGIC IN DENYING ACCESS TO A ROOM HE IS ALREADY IN.. . . . .<<
"Hey! Rightious! Thanks. . ." Quick started to interrupt before the door overrode him.
>>HOWEVER DR. QUICK IS NOT AUTHORIZED ACCESS TO RESTRICTED AREAS OF USS Galaxy. CURRENT SECURITY SCANS SHOW THAT THERE ARE PRESENTLY 86 CREWMEMERS LOCATED IN RESTRICTED ACCESS AREAS. IF QUICK IS EVERYONE AND EVERYONE IS QUICK, THEN LOGIC DICTATES THAT DR. JEBEDIAH QUICK IS CURRENTLY IN VIOLATION OF 86 SECURITY ACCESS . . .<<<
"Uh-oh.wait a min. . . ."
>>TRANSFERRING DATA TO ALL SECURITY SYSTEMS. SECURITY ALERT ON ALL DECKS!!!! INTRUDER ALERT AN ALL DECKS UNAUTHORIZED PERSONNEL IN RESTRICTED ACCESS AREA AS FOLLOWS. . . . <<
"Uh...I think I'll just wait in my quarters dude." Quick gulped and hurried through the now unlocked door.
>>DR JEBEDIAH QUICK LOCATED IN WEAPONS LOCKER 6 THROUGH 18. . . . DR JEBEDIAH QUICK LOCATED IN STARFLEET INTELIGENCE OFFICES. . . . . . DR JEBEDIAH QUICK LOCATED IN PRIMARY PHOTON CONTROL ROOM. . . . . DR JEBEDIAH QUICK LOCATED ON MAIN BRIDGE WITHOUT PROPER ESCORT . . .. . . DR JEBEDIAH QUICK LOCATE D IN WOMENS LOCKER ROOM DECK 9. . . . . DR JEBEDIAH QUICK LOCATED IN. . . . . . . <<<
The alarm sounded on all decks and didn't stop for some time. . . . .. .
(TBC)
This was the end of briefing to poor new medical officer, which was conducted by you-know-who "Now move your f**king ass to you place and shut your mouth more tightly than..." Vladimir found out that he can't find a way to continue his phrase "... Ahem... Just get outta my eyes, until I use my persuasion methods!" He did it. One more Junior Lieutenant was brainwashed and left as toy in Vladimir's evil hands.
Russian doctor smiled, thinking ~They are right, I am a tyrant, dictator and bastard... But I can't do anything with it. I LIKE to be such a 'good' boy. I just like it...~ He walked to his desk and said "Computer play music. Beatles. "Rocky Racoon". Quietly."
"Acknowledged..." came the response and song started... "Now somewhere in the black mountain hills of Dakota..."
"... Only to find Gideon's Bible..."
"...Rocky burst in and grinning a grin, He said Danny boy this is ... AN INTRUDER ALERT AN ALL DECKS!.."
"Whatta happened? We had just left the stardock and right now we have a hot day!" Vladimir relaxed and, not listening to further scared computer's intruder report started throwing words "Okay, boys and girls. Prepare sickbay for medical emergencies of all classes. Recheck everything from biobeds to pharmacies. It is our first rush hour, but I doubt that last. Work with speed of light if not faster. If those intruder-guys are on all decks we have lil' time. Now work, dudes!.. And don't disappoint me..."
**Following on the heels of "Bar room Blitz" and Corgans' speech in the Brig. PRE-LAUNCH!! BACKPOST!**
Bhrode came into the Shore Patrol's Brig like a man possessed, the enormous form of Lt. Raven Darkstar looming behind him like a mountain suddenly able to walk.
"HEY! Hey Buddy, you can't just . . ." began the bored
Lieutenant on Desk Duty, before noticing the rank pins. And the Meat Truck who
flexed
at him and scowled like he'd GET the Lieutenant somehow.
"What?" snapped Bhrode to the officer, through the half meter of transparent Aluminum.
"n.n.n.n.n.nnnn..NOTHING SIRGORIGHTONINSIROURBRIGISYOURBRIG!!" sputtered the Lieutenant, trying to drop his copy of PlayBeing holomag, stand up, buzz the door open, ignore the Indian who made him want to pee, salute, and pee again; all at once.
"That's what I thought you said." Bhrode snapped back. Raven just kept scowling and staring at the Shore Patrolman until they passed out of the Reception Room. Bhrode never noticed Raven stop, flick the Transparent Aluminum with a fingernail, and mouth "I'll be back" to the terrified Lieutenant. The Lieutenant sure caught it though, he passed out.
The Station Shore Patrol Commander was waiting for Bhrode on the other side of the door.
"Now. . . we have fights like this almost weekly. Don't get all. . ." She began, not knowing Bhrode's reputation. It was the suddenly hulking form of Raven that made her stop talking.
"Get. Out. Of . My. Way." Enunciated Bhrode to the Commander, who suddenly developed the facial expression of wishing she had a forcefield or a metre of Transparent Aluminum between her and John Q. And the Meat Truck.
Seeing a line of Fleet uniforms trying to slink out past him, Bhrode pointed at the first one of them, ignoring the Station Chief Cop.
"YOU! Who the fragging Blue Novas are you?" the CO snapped.
"Ensign Jody. . . " began the hapless yellow shirt.
"SHUT UP! Are you one of the misguided idiots from my Security detail on Galaxy?" Bhrode demanded, cutting the Ensign off.
"Aih guess so. .sir."
"Lieutenant, loom over this man." Bhrode ordered.
The security Ensign looked at Raven Darkstar, as the Asst. Chief of Security took up a hulking presence behind him, casting him into shadow somehow; even though the shadowcast Ensign was not nearly as large as Commander Darkstar, but still large in a 'chunky cornfed farmboy' way. Whimpers were heard from those behind him, as the Indian's dark eyes swept down the line.
"Corgan break any of your necks?" Bhrode demanded.
"No sir. He gave us a restriction to quarters until further notice, and a permanant reprimand and.... began an Andorian from somewhere in back.
"Why the hell not? He should have broken SOMEONE's neck for being so dumb as to pick a fight and then not WIN it! I'd have snapped a neck like it was some Skinny Little Wussy Toothpick! You all have three weeks worth of close confinement, no holodeck , double duty shifts and your records will be getting a lovely little lovenote from ME as well. Now you move your sorry asses back to MY ship and you park them there and reflect on how fragging cold those asses will get on Breen, if one of you so much as look like you're gonna THINK about making trouble. Well? You waiting for an invitation ladies? Lieutnant Darkstar. Count to six and then begin breaking people in half. Start counting at three. MOVE IT!" Bhrode thundered.
It was only some fast moving on the parts of the Shore Patrol to get out of the way and open the doors; that prevented a Commander shaped doormat in front of, and a hole the size and shape of a Security Squadder in the Shore Patrol bulkheads.
"He was joking... right?" asked the Shore Patrol Commander of Raven.
The Big Indian's eyes glittered in the stony face, as he shook his head in the negative.
"You mean, you'd just count three-two-one and start breaking people in half?" She asked, eying the curves of Raven's arms and licking her lips.
"Yep." The Indian replied.
"You don't talk much, do you?" she asked, fanning herself.
"Nope." Raven answered.
As the patter of fast moving feet disappeared, Bhrode strode into the Brig like he owned the place. Seeing Corgan angrily slam a key box back on a shore patrolman's desk, Bhrode just held out his hand. As the puzzled officer gave it, Bhrode's other hand shot up in a 'cease and desist' movement.
"Sir?" The Commander of security asked.
"No, Commander-soon-to-be-Ensign Corgan. Say not a word. The first peep from you about 'Why didn't we have funeral services' for fallen comrades and I'll personally have to be locked inside a cell myself to be kept from ripping your head off. Meat Truck! Loom! You, where's the other sixty odd miscreants from Galaxy." Bhrode pointed at the Shore Patrol Commander.
~"What the f**k? I didn't do anything!"~ Corgan fought the urge to upraised his middle finger when Captain Brhode wasn't looking.
"I saw that." Bhrode said over his shoulder.
At Corgan's puzzled non-response, the Shore Patrol Commander swallowed and pointed a shaking hand at the remaining cells.
"Your people are in the first ten, then the Klingons, and then the Stardock Workers, although they. . ." she began, still staring at Raven.
As Bhrode paced down the long hall, passing the glowing cells packed ten people deep, he let an impatient growl out. Seemingly out of nowhere, Chief Westwell, the Boatswain fell into step on his right side, a pace behind him. Without turning to acknowledge her, he growled. . .
"Boats, what the frag happened now?"
"The usual. Marines and Security played a little zero gee ball in gravity with each others' heads. Some other people got involved. Some of the idiots let themselves get picked up, most managed to get out before the Shore Patrol managed to get to them. 79 of ours, over a hundred of theirs. We won by the way. Jury is still out on Marines versus Fleet." The Chief replied, her eyes taking note of faces here and there.
"SAVOIE!?" Bhrode yelled in half-surprise, coming to an abrupt halt at the next cell. "What the hell are you doing here with these dolts and bedwetters?" he demanded. "And you sure as shit better not tell me you were mixed up with that band of sorry excuses for security officers I have the misfortune to be stuck babysitting."
Jeremy rose from his seated position on the floor. The helmsman had a cut over his upper lip but otherwise appeared to be in one piece. He had heard Bhrode's bellicose approach but was hoping he would somehow miraculously be overlooked.
"No sir," he began almost matter-of-factly, not really in the mood for a grilling. "I got into it by telling some loud-mouthed jarhead what we 'Fleeties' think of him and- . . ."
"Stow it, Lieutenant!" Bhrode interrupted. "I don't expect my senior officers to be getting into bar room pissing matches with Fleet Marines unless there is a damn good reason, or a chance of their winning!" Moving a little closer to the cell forcefield, Bhrode narrowed his eyes and glanced shiftily for a split second. "Who won?" he asked in a lowered voice.
"I guess it was a draw, sir." Jeremy replied, a little taken off guard by Bhrode's question. "But I messed up two of his friends pretty good," he added with a conspiratorial air.
"Like hell!" Corgan flared to defend his department's honor, "our fleeties injured, two marines, one Klingon. In a free for all like that, marines got the short end of the stick. We did better."
"Ahh.. but your People got caught Mister Corgan. Most of the Marines got away scot free. I'm not here to bail out Marines, only your people, which Mister Corgan seems to feel is HIS perogative and not mine. Perhaps Mister Corgan feels I'm too old and senile to address his people with my pearls of wisdom. Savoie, You wanna hear my wisdom?" Bhrode snapped off.
"I suppose so, sir" Savoie replied, having a pretty god idea of the result.
"The Marines WON. Security claims 2 marines, and 1 Klingon, but the Marines apparently got Von Ernst, and she counts as five people compared to you lot. Maybe seven or eight now that I SEE the dregs of the Fleet arrayed before me. YOU, Savoie, you claim a 'draw?' A Draw!?" Bhrode thundered as Jeremy's head shot back from the forcefield at the sudden upshot in volume. "You're outta practice, Savoie. You see this man?" he demanded, indicating the mountainous Raven Darkstar with a slight shift of his head. "Next time you're itchin' for a fight, you see go and see him-, understood, Lieutenant?"
Jeremy looked up at the huge darker-skinned man with a defiant glare, almost daring the Indian to try to intimidate him. Raven merely locked eyes with the smaller man with no hint of any thought or feeling whatsoever. "Understood, sir," Jeremy replied icily, his gaze unflinching.
"And I recommend you spend more time with that hot little number you've got tending my bar, Savoie, and get rid of some of that pent-up energy. You're starting to resemble Hawksley too much for my amusement." the Captain sternly advised.
It was only then that the staring match between Jeremy and Raven was broken, as Jeremy stammered to Bhrode in surprise, "How did you know we . . . HAWKSLEY?"
"That is MY ship over there, son!" Bhrode barked. "If there is even so much as an extra piece of shit clogging one of those fancy-assed latrines you'd better damn well believe I know -all- about it! Who made it, what they had for lunch that day, their shoe size, and which of my lazy engineers is going to clean it up! I know when you're naughty, who you're diddling, and when Mister Corgan is itching to give me the finger! I am, in a word, Omnipotent and Omniscient." Bhrode thundered.
Bhrode motioned to the Shore Patrol Commander to turn off the forcefield.
"Now get the hell out of my sight, Savoie. You are confined to quarters until we launch in two days. Dismissed! Report to Hawksley and tell him all about it! GET MOVING! " Jeremy was glad to quietly leave his cell as Bhrode turned sharply on his Hirogen-skin heels and continued his 'prisoner review.'
"No personal holodecks for a week for the whole crew. Corgan's lot on the punishment details I already mentioned. Others arrested on half punishment and no record of reprimand. Anyone who got away, I want you to buzz in their ear that while I don't mind the brawling, I dislike people running away before they Win it." Bhrode continued dictating to Chief Westwell and Raven.
~"F**king idiot, people could have been hurt... or even killed in that fight. And what the hell is he doing? My duty to punish my staff, and he's going soft with a week's confinement. What a crock of sh*t!"~ Corgan spat in disgust, his face slowly turning bright red.
Chief Westwell eyed Corgan and wondered again if the young hothead was ready for some advice. "Aye Aye sir!" a discrete cough from the Chief led Bhrode's attention to the single occupant of the cell they'd just passed.
"Tim The Terror Mirapoints. How many you get a hold of this time?" Bhrode asked with a large grin.
The large Enlisted rating let a grin split his bruised face.
"Ten sir. One of them a scrappy little thing too, she gave
me a hard time. Reminded me of MGSM King from your Acadamy." He replied
with a
tough of insolent pride.
"Heh. Those brawls you and King Kong had in the Landing Pad earned me quite a few credits way back when. What is Terror's current rank? And when did he get it?" Bhrode barked to the Chief.
"Chief Petty Officer. Granted nine months ago." The Shief replied, with a glare for Mirapoints to stop smirking.
"He's now a PO3. Again. If you'd stop beating up marines in every cantina in the Alpha Quadrant, you'd be a frigging Fleet Admiral by now Mirapoints. At least a MCPO! How many times you been a PO3 before?" thundered Bhrode
"This in my nineteenth time. Sir. Not my fault Marines talk so much and can't back it up." Replied the unrepentant Mirapoints, spitting a loose tooth and a gobbet of blood onto the floor. The security officers agreed with hushed chuckles, but were suspended by Corgan's warning glance.
Cheif Westwell noticed the Securty Officers, and indicated to Corgan that they should be long gone. Corgan, of course, didn't even notice. With an arch of her head and a glare, the Chief forced the Security 'Goons' to realize that the company of the Captain wasn't the best place at the moment.
"See this man? He picks fights with Marines and WINS! This is a MAN. Not some whiny, pissey little crybaby fuck who can't be on the job ten minutes without. . . " Bhrode thundered to the Security officers he just noticed again. "I thought I ordered you people to the ship?" Brhode demanded.
"Sir, We thought Commander Corgan said. . . "
Bhrode stepped forward and slapped the Ensign across his face. Hard.
"YOU WILL NOT THINK! YOU WILL DO WHAT. . . oh stop blubbering! Get a hold of yourself! You disgust me! What's your name?" Bhrode ordered the young man, who started crying.
"E.e.e.e.e. e.Ensign Jody..."
"Screw it. You're transferred. You now work here in this Brig on Stardock Two. You were the weakest link. Good bye. Anyone ELSE think Commander Corgan overrrules me?" Bhrode challenged the Security Detail.
Eyes looked everywhere but at the Captain.
"All of you look at CHief Mirapoints, Chief Westwell, Mister Corgan and Lieutenant Darksater. These are people. People with balls. Mirapoints. Damned ignorant fool, they should never have taken those guys out of the Merchant Marine Fleet. They're all savages, bloody savages on the warpath.. No offence Meat truck." Bhrode was muttering when he hit the cell packed full of Marines, all silent under the intense blue gaze of their Senior NCO from the cell across the hall.
"Right. I'm asking this once. Which of you threw the first punch?” demanded Bhrode, already knowing the response.
As one, perfectly in sync with 'Betty' across the hall, every Marine present took one measured step forward and sounded off with a yelled "SIR! I DID SIR!" drowning our Betty's admission, who continued to glare at her subordinates in their attempt to 'cover' for her.
"Frigging Spartacus all over again." Brhode murmered to Chief Westwell.
"Semper Fi. . ." muttered the Chief, winking at Betty. Betty's delicate face was marred by a puffy eye, but she managed a grin back to her Fleet counterpart.
"Fine. Be bullheads. Meet your new Commanding Officer." Bhrode turned to the far end of the hallway and beckoned the large figure closer.
Behind him, he heard Raven Darkstar make an amazed sounding intake of breath.
The large man coming towards them was clad in the Black Grey
and Green of the Marines. A gold oak leaf glittered on his neck. And aside from
that, he was the spitting image of Raven Darkstar, from the huge body seemingly
chiseled from granite, to the obsidian eyes, to the stoic and deadpanned coppery
face. Even the braid of hair down his back was as ebon as Raven's.
"Major Log, what are you going to do about these Ladies of yours? Brawling with the nice little Security people belonging to Lt. Commander Darkstar here?" Bhrode asked, with a smirk.
Major Laughing Horse Log let his eyes roam over the Marines in the two cells. Then his cold and glittering gaze went over the group in the hall, before coming to rest on Raven.
The two giants seemed to visibly flex inside their uniforms,
muscles swelling up to make the other look smaller. The tension between them
was
electric. Black gazes were locked in some battle of wills on a titanic level.
"Took some little girl to the Sickbay. Maybe these little girls need some bandaids too? Wanna see their mommies over a scatch?" the Major finally drawled, still holding Raven's gaze.
"SIR NO SIR!" every Marine present chorused out.
"Probably make them run some, then. Running is supposed to make you strong. Run like little girls, running away crying from trouble. In full Battlearmour and combat packs." The Major ventured to Bhrode, his eyes still on the other huge Indian. One sensed there were subtexts here.
Raven Darkstar's rumbling bass voice even sounded exactly like this Marines'.
"Some people find running into trouble just as rewarding as escaping it." Raven remarked.
"You'll never know, Ya-kochee. How was your visit to the poor old Reservation? Still keeping the old folks down and mired in nineteenth century superststion?" The Major remarked, as Bhrode dropped the forcefield and the Marines double timed out, in ordered double files at the jog, in contrast to the mad scramble the Security Nerps had exhibited. The Major fired off a salute to Bhrode and fell in at the tail of his Marines, his large legs setting a cadence they had to force themselves to keep up with. He never seemed to even expect Raven to respond to his odd commentary.
Bhrode chuckled and went down the line of cells, telling the miserable occupants exactly what he was going to do to them, and what he hoped their commanding officers would do to them. "Oh Commander Corgan, a moment of your time? Go to my office and wait for me there. Alone Meat Truck,you go with him. See if these Security Officers I have ordered from my presence three times now can FINALLY UNDERSTAND AN ORDER!!!" Bhrode asked sweetly, building to a vein throbbing bellow.
"Yes sir." Corgan replied as deadpanned and unimpressed
with Brhode's unnerving sense of humor as if he was Carrot Top, thinking, ~"By
god, if
he blames me for this..."~
Everyone filtered out. Brhode, the marines, even the dockworkers. The security staff was all alone. Corgan led his staff out of the brig area, hoping to put the events of the evening well past him.
"Alright boys and girls..." The security chief muttered, "Thanks to you, Christmas just keeps on coming. Now my chestnuts are roasting on Brhode's open fire. Kudos."
The moans and groans of injured galaxy crewmembers were his response.
"Unlike the marines, i'm not going to play that he-man bullsh*t. You guys look damn ugly. Patch yourselves up at sickbay, and go to your quarters and start enjoying your punishment. I'll see you all tomorrow at 07:00 hours. Dismissed!"
"Yes sir!" Replied the security staff.
"What does 'ya-kochee' mean?" asked an interested Chief Westwell of Raven.
Raven just grunted and turned away, to go and catch up with Corgan and deal with their own 'problem children' in Security.
She almost didn't hear the quiet ". . . Little Brother. . ." Raven muttered as he left.
Lexa sat fairly at ease at the main bridge OPS station as the ship prepared for launch. She knew what she was doing and she had no worries about being able to accomplish her tasks. It wasn't going to be a breeze with all of the strange power re-routing being done as per Dr Quick's instructions but she could do it.
All around her other members of the bridge crew were readying their stations for launch. Reporters milled around the bridge like ants on a dropped hot dog, recording everything. Lexa straightened a bit in her seat as Bhrode began his speech.
"Now hear this. Effective this stardate, 50308.16, I, John Q. Bhrode, Fleet Captain serial number SFC-05501319 do hereby take lawful command of the vessel USS GALAXY NCC-70637-A as directed by Starfleet Command. Attention to Orders. We will power this ship, drop our reporter Guests at McKinley Orbital Station, and then proceed on voyage to the Outlands. We are transporting the Imperial Klingon Delegation to their waiting rendevous at the Empire's transit station there. Senior Staff, report on your readiness to the Bridge. Bhrode out."
The words left his mouth, speaking to the ages to come and as the comm channel closed, Lexa's board lit up with green lights, scrolling through their assigned duties and positions. All reports, from other OPS stations throughout the ship and from the computer itself were ready. Gritting her teeth she performed the one part of her duty she worried about. Speaking. "Ops. Go."
As the rest of the stations reported in, Lexa cleared power relays that were still on yard power and re-routed internal power to them in preparation for the loosing of the docking clamps. She just finished this task when from behind her came the captain's voice, grating in her ears, "Mister Reece, open a channel to Stardock."
Pressing the button that would access the desired frequency, Lexa mused on the apparent blindness of their commanding officer. No one had ever mistaken her for a male, even as a baby. Most captains and officers did not hold with the old style of address, using the masculines of "mister" and "sir" for all officers, regardless of gender. But Bhrode was an old-fashioned prick in this manner and Lexa truly hated the manner of address. And he knew it.
Shaking off her irritation, Lexa responded carefully to the captain's latest query. "Aye. Ship. On. Own. Power. Ready."
The ship slowly maneuvered out of the dock as the ceremony on the outer hull concluded. Lexa watched her board as the officers and civilians from the hull came back inside, puzzled by the lack of Commander Hawksley before the hatch was closed. She reported the puzzle silently to the helm and security stations and the matter left her hands for the time being.
Putting her mind back on the power distribution network, Lexa began doing her normal job once more, making sure the SIF had enough power and that all systems were operational. Before she had taken more than a few readings her board lit up like a Christmas tree, red lights everywhere. As she took quick stock of the readings, she let out a noise that was a cross between a squawk and a snort.
"Captain! Sir!" Lexa pushed the words out, urgently.
"What is it, Mister Reece?"
"Security systems. Going crazy. Can't explain it, sir." As she tried to manipulate her panel to make sense of what was going on, she pressed the button to activate vocal computer warnings so the captain could hear what the computer was telling her.
=^= SECURITY ALERT!!! INTRUDER ALERT, DECK 9, WOMEN'S SHOWERS, INTRUDER IDENTIFIED AS DR JEBEDIAH QUICK! SECURITY ALERT!!! ... INTRUDER ALERT, DECK 1 BATTLE BRIDGE OPS STATION, INTRUDER IDENTIFIED AS DR JEBEDIAH QUICK ... SECURITY ALERT!!! INTRUDER ALERT, DECK 10 FORWARD, INTRUDER IDENTIFIED AS DR JEBEDIAH QUICK ... SECURITY ALERT!!! INTRUDER ALERT, MAIN BRIDGE, CAPTAIN'S CHAIR, INTRUDER IDENTIFIED AS DR JEBEDIAH QUICK ... SECURITY ALERT!!! INTRUDER ALERT, ENGINEERING, INTRUDER IDENTIFIED AS DR JEBEDIAH QUICK ... SECURITY ALERT!!! INTRUDER ALERT, MAIN BRIDGE, OPS STATION, INTRUDER IDENTIFIED AS DR JEBEDIAH QUICK ... SECURITY ALERT!!! INTRUDER ALERT ... =^=
Bhrode stood up with a darker scowl then ever on his face. "That's enough, Reece. Computer, what is going on?!? I am on the main bridge and I do not see Dr Quick anywhere."
=^= ILLOGICAL QUERY. DR QUICK STATES THAT HE DOES NOT SEE DR QUICK ON THE BRIDGE. =^=
"What the hell!?! Computer, identify me."
=^= DR JEBEDIAH QUICK IS QUERENT. =^=
"Reece? You try it!"
Lexa sat up. "Computer. Identify me."
=^= DR JEBEDIAH QUICK IS QUERENT. =^=
At glares from the Captain, Commander Dallas, Lieutenant Black, Lieutenant Commander O'Connell and Lieutenant Savoie all tried and were told that they were each Dr Jebediah Quick.
"This is ridiculous!" shouted Bhrode. "Computer, how can all querents be Quick?"
=^= QUICK IS ONE WITH THE UNIVERSE. QUICK IS EVERYONE. EVERYONE IS QUICK. =^=
"Bull crap! I am Captain John Q. Bhrode!"
=^= FIGHT THE POWER! DATA REJECT! YOU ARE DR JEBEDIAH QUICK! =^=
As the captain struggled with the insane computer Lexa struggled with her console to control the fluctuating systems. The computer was raising security force fields all over the ship to contain the "intruder" and would not accept her commands re-routing power away from the security measures. Every time she tried her station informed her that Dr Jebediah Quick was not authorized to access these systems. When she tried to over-ride this lock-out with her command authorization, the computer panel blanked out for a good thirty seconds before returning with the message that her authorization was invalid because it was a code not authorized to Dr Quick.
Groaning under her breath, Lexa tried other ways to get those force fields down.
With the exception of the stubbly little man known as Leo Streely, Deputy Sheriff of all that is known and beyond, Kylar Curran encountered very little resistance upon his travels to the quarters he'd commandeered at the silent behest of Captain Brhode.
The poor excuse for a human was paired up with the unlikely Alpha Centaurian that had a seemingly high tolerance for the irritation.
The ship itself brought about an internal sneer from within the Kelvan. Was he being tested, pushed, prodded? Did these unknown forces from within see an enemy of him? He was a worthy opponent after all. He was superior to these irrational creatures he found himself surrounded with. He was also outnumbered, being the only Kelvan on a vessel of this magnitude.
The flagship of Starfleet, and forebringer of peace for the Federation. All eyes fell to the Galaxy as the premier starship in the fleet. A technological marvel, stocked with the latest in weapons both defensible and offensive, the best minds in the Federation and its allies were stationed here. It took many officers years to reach a tenure on a starship of this size, some never mde it at all.
This was Kylar's first assignment aboard a vessel. Pride resonated from him at being selected at first, but upon touring the vast crevices of the pervertedly diverse eclectic tastes of the interior designer, he more felt this is a matter of breaking down the Kelvan.
Such was the nature of inferiors. Always have to bring those greater in strength and intellect down to their level. Misery loves company.
Arriving at his newfound station on Deck Three, the Legate waved his hands upon the bulkhead and they parted ways. With an air of aristocracy, he left the mediocrity of the lavender corridor plates with their contrasting sunrise yellow carpeting and into the airy lounge predicating his new living quarters.
Thankfully, these rooms hadn't been privy to the same hands that molested the design of the exterior halls. Steel - grey plating awaited the final layer of decorative coating, but this would not happen in the Kelvan's lifetime.
"Computer. Raise the internal temperature to 32 degrees centigrade." Immediately he felt the warming sensation of the ventilation system winding down to admit the heating vents. He closed his eyes and felt at ease. He would have much rathered the heat of the Romulus sun, but in this place, he needed decent presentation if he were to entertain visiting delegates.
"Dim the lights to 12 percent emission." The reduction in light was pleasing. He placed his satchel on the mahogany desk that extended out beyond the farthest edge of the interior lounge, deuterium panels separating the office from the lobby alcove contained within.
Silence emanated from within the darkened peace the office brought forth. It quieted the plethora of voices that threatened his solitude outside the hallowed walls of sanctity offered within the vastness of the creature called 'Galaxy'.
"Computer. Play and sustain a symphony of classical pieces from the 20th century. Emphasize strength and honour among the selections." A lilt immediately flowed from the hidden speakers located throughout the quarters. The twang of violins, cellos, and wind instruments beat out a emerging feeling of an impending battle, ironically mirroring the Kelvan's own battle with the forces who sought to break him.
A chime at the door. Missed in the rhythm of the drums at first, the charge of battle carried on the currents of the horns of terror, Kylar closed his eyes and flowed through the battle in his inner eye, directing troops clad in shod armour, cracked and broken from skirmishes past, on the road to victory to destroy the minions of hell who would trod on his homeland.
Flanking the evil hordes of barbarians, he raised his arms, red braids from his gauntlets fluttering in the humidity as his golden armour shines against the sun, radiant in its glory. He waited until the first signs of the morn arose, and dropped his brilliantly coloured cuffs, signalling the invasion.
Arrows flew through the air, raining death on the scourge as they charged the defending legions, those that survived the initial downpour of death from above in the form of flaming shafts and pitches from catapults, breaking into the phalanx and over the stout scutums (shields), impaling themselves upon the piliums (javelins) of the cavalry behind.
Kylar availed himself of the emotions of the moment, and threw himself into the heat of battle, brandishing fury in the form of a spatha in one hand, the glaudius in the other, sweeping oblivion to all who would grace its well-honed edge. Blood spewed forth from severed arteries, limbs were rent from the torsos of the dominion horde who sought to end the Roman era, but not this day.
This day, the most dominant military power the worlds have ever seen would see the light of day.
The chime rang once again, and again... was ignored.
The beat of the drums rang with the throbbing hearts of the legionnaires who survived the clouded day. Smoke rose in the first signs of twilight, twisting clattered entrails into the air. Burnt flesh hung in the breeze, and death ruled the day. The horrors of war seeped into the soils of the ravaged earth, the stream that flowed through to the wood, raged the hue of blood. Bodies were heaped along the shoreline, hacked to pieces, both barbarian and Roman alike.
The sun set, and the chatters of the remaining hordes taking refuge in the wood grew as the clamoured together for a night assault on the tired and weakened troops. The Romans still owned superiority in numbers and tactics, but this was the territory of the barbarians and they had the advantage. They lived in the wild, born and bred in uncivilized numbers, relying on the land, respecting it.
Kylar suffered exhaustion. His men had been decimated, but still they were proud. His arms were weak from swinging eternal rest to his enemies. There were no replacements for field commanders. A battle horn blew from the treeline, and the great assault began.
The chime rang once again, and it snapped him out of his reverie. The dream was shattered, but the symphony raged on in its defiant throes.
He drew a grim visage and strutted to the bulkhead, keying it open.
"What is it?" No visitors were expected this hour. He had a meeting with his one and only staff member later that day, but that was several hours away. She hadn't even boarded the Galaxy yet.
Therefore, he snapped out his reply to the intrusion with impunity.
An engineer stood below him, diminutive to his 5'6' stature, peering up at him wide-eyed. He didn't want to be here.
"I'm.. here... to deliver...." He trailed off, flitting his glance to an anti-grav tray behind him. It was covered in rolls of fabric. Wallpaper. Who the hell authorized ancient wallcoverings for the VIP lounge? Better yet, on a closer look, it was of a design that contained little blue boats, red trains, and yellow cars!
A shudder shook through Kylar.
"Take... that... material.... AWAY!" He immediately thought of impaling himself at the atrociousness of the designer, and slammed the bulkhead in the engineer's face.
"Ummm....." He held one of the rolls under one arm, and raised a finger to the air, to draw it to his lips.
The very audible click of the lock, followed immediately by a digital signature on the door panel of 'Do Not DISTURB!' made him hesitate.
The door quickly opened... "GO AWAY!" Then slammed shut, making the little guy fall backwards onto his cart in shock.
"Oh, well... Captain's quarters were next on the list, anyways. Maybe he'd appreciate a little wallpaper...." The minute engineer mumbled as he rolled up the tubes that had fallen on the floor and carried them off to Brhode's quarters.
The young Betazoid was pushing her young daughterKaryn who was riding in a hovercraft along with her new teddy bear.
"I can't wait when you start working this thing my little darling."Rose told her daughter with an smile, little Karyn smile back gentle to her 1mother and kiss her mommy's hand.
"Love..you, Mommy!" the young brown haired Betazoid/Human girl yelled to her mother.
A shadow sat over the small child and her Betazoid mother. Caught completely off guard, Rose whirled, seeing who stopped.
"Hey..." Said the man standing behind her, with a slight touch of mirth, "It's a miniature you over there!"
"I can't believe it, James is that you?!"
"Hi Rose." James extended his hand out in greeting, "How are you doing? It's been awhile since I last heard from you, and I haven't seen little Karyn since she was born. Great to see you all again."
Little Karyn who had the same beauiful looks at her beloved mother reach out for James while her mother and James shaked hands and hug each other.
"Uncle James!!!!" little Karyn said while jumping a little up and down in her hovercraft.
"Why, hello there little lady!" He warmly greeting the child, reaching his hand out. Her tiny hands wrapped around James index finger, and they shook, "I'm glad to see you too." He then tured to the child's mother, "She's grown since the last time I saw her. And she looks so much like you. Amazing, isn't it?"
Rose now with short, blond hair smiles at James as the young Betazoids started pushing little Karyn while walking towards Ten-Foward, "Everybody see she going to open windows to mens souls one day like I have or maybe still doing."
"Well, i'm glad that you're back on board. We'll both be on the senior staff. Did you hear? I'm the chief of security, and Lexa is the chief of operations. With Lysander and Rebecca back, it will be like..." He paused, seeing how his next line would be of no benefit to their morale. "...like before...."
James was troubled. Though 'old times' did have their moments, it also had its tragedies. There was too much violence, loss and bloodshed to go with the last tour of duty. No doubt, little Karyn and Rose already picked up on James' distress. He forced himself out of the rapidly forming gloom, smiling and pushing aside his worries. He held his tongue for a moment, then said, "...no, it'll be better."
~"I hope I didn't upset the kid."~ James fretted. He was always extra cautious with Betazoids. They knew what he was thinking, sometimes before he thought it, leaving him disarmed, vulnerable, and afraid to offend with the slightest thought.
"You can always trust me you know that James."
Feeling like he was stabbed through the heart by a fine tipped stiletto, he reeled back in shock. No matter how many times he reminded himself that she could hear all his thoughts, it was always a shock to be reminded of such. He had no other abilities to keep himself on an equal social footing with his Betazoid collegue. The thought sunk in; he was truly helpless.
"Just worried, that's all." He admitted begrudgingly, "You know how it was before on the Galaxy. But now she's armed like a warship and helmed by the most ardent hawk in Starfleet. Before we were running into trouble, and now I think they want to seek it. I would be a fool not to worry about my friends... and their children." Little Karyn started to tug on the young mans uniform with an grin on her face, "Uncle Jamesss, huggg!" she told James while holding her little arms out for her "uncle" to hold her.
"Why..." James acted surprised, "There's a little munchkin tugging on pant leg. Come here, you! Grrrrr....."
His arms hugged around the small child, tickling her. She giggled as she was lifted out of her hovercart and onto 'uncle' James' shoulder. She was perched on the security officer's shoulder like a bird, his arm supporting the toddler's weight. She cheered, reaching for the ceiling to see how high she could really go.
"I'm honored to be called an uncle." James chuckled, "Uncles teach all the cool stuff. That's how I learned about rock and roll... but I digress. You've been away for some time. How has your last tour of duty been?"
"Fine. I went to an Nova Class Science Ship after I spend of year in command school as Chief Science Officer and Second Officer, my husband Rashid is still on the ship as Asst. Chief Enginner officer."
"Get out! Rashid married you?!?" Absolutely suprised, James responded, "Your mom must have sh.... " He paused, consciously aware of the child on his shoulders, "I mean.... dropped a brick! Last time I meet her, she wasn't too thrilled with your husband. Or me for that matter, since I chewed out the crotchity old... I mean... woman."
"Piggy back." Squealed the young child.
"Ok, you want a piggy back ride?" James asked, and little Karyn nodded, "Alright then..." He shifted her off his one shoulder and placed her lame leg on the other. She held on to the top of his head, while his arms kept her legs in place,
"I'm glad to hear things are ok, at least. I just got off a tour of duty with the Border Patrol. I was their Starfleet liason officer. Had to do it for my practicum after taking an Advanced Tactical and Security training course back on Earth. Other than Reece, haven't seen many familiar faces in months."
"Well I wrote to you even gave you one of my new music albums called "The Goddesses" I still look damn good in leather dress after having Karyn." Rose said with alittle grin while putting an bowl of Betazoid chicken soup near Karyn's hovercraft.
"Darn... the disadvantages of being on a border cutter. The mail is notoriously unreliable. Rose..." James frankly spoke, like he was about to give out risky information, "I need to ask, will you be able to visit Lexa sometime soon?"
"I saw her when I asked some thing to be change in my apartment for little Karyn, why my friend?" she asked him while eating some soup looking at him with her dark eyes, he still very handsome.
"It may be nothing..." He faltered, then picked up the pace, "But she hasn't come out of the coma as the same woman we knew before. She says she sees things... precognitions I believe. And it scares her. She's afraid to say or do anything with me because of all this. Since you know her and you're one of her friends, I was hoping you could be her... support. I know I can't do everything and be everywhere, so I'm going to need any help I can get. And well... you're a natural. Would you be able to help her?"
"Look, I will do my best and maybe in time she will return to her old self but you and I will keep an close eye on her. Maybe you and her can join us for dinner one day? My husband can be on this ship for an year so..I'm alone."
"Don't see why not. Let me run that by Lexa, and I'll get back to you. Oh... I have to go." James slid little Karyn back into her hoverchair,
"Security work and whatnot. Rose, I don't expect miracles. The last time I tried to help someone, they never spoke to me again. I don't want to alienate Lexa in the same way. That's why i'm asking for your help. But just to warn you... I have a feeling that she won't be back to her old self. She's been changed too much in..." He imagined the darkness, the endless void of lonliness he encountered before. Shaking his head, the image loosened itself out of his mind and retreated into his sub-conscious, "...well, you know where. I would be more than greatful if we could put her mind at ease. I want her to know that she has nothing to fear when she is near us. That won't be easy."
Both Rose and Karyn watch James leave Ten-Foward, both of the women looked at each other smile about James and what an faithful friend his been and when back to eat.
Deciding that getting more sleep was not what he needed, after that awful dream
involving Betty and the Squad of Death, Curtis headed down to engineering to
try and get some work done. And hopefully spend a nice, Bhrode-and-Betty-Free
evening consumed by his work. Arriving in Engineering, Curtis watched the night
crew scuttle about doing their daily jobs, eating dinner, and taking naps.
'Nice shift' said Curtis to himself as he thought about his own work day, which was usually filled with quite a bit of activity. He almost envied these rookies. Looking further back, Curtis caught sight of someone he had not expected to see this late, Ella. He decided to head over and see what she was doing at such a late hour.
Ella was sitting quietly in an unobscure corner of Engineering, trying to stay out of the other engineers way. Not that she thought that was really a possibly. Most of them were too busy either stuffing their faces or drooling in their sleep at their stations. Ella rolled her eyes as she continued to tinker with one of her infamous computer PADD's. She was seriously begining to doubt the competency of her department.
She heard the footsteps approach and quickly switched PADD's to type in a message for her guest. She handed it to him without looking and then went back to her work. *COULDN'T SLEEP PROF?* it read.
Curtis read the PADD and smiled, "That's quite a skill you have there Ella, didn't even turn around."
Ella looked up and smiled back at him. She made a 'V' with
her fingers, pointed at her eyes, and then circled them. 'I have eyes everywhere',
she thought drily. 'The fact that your left shoe sqweeks has nothing to do with
it.'
Curtis, catching the gist of the message, laughed and took a seat beside her.
"As for the sleeping question," he began, "no, I couldn't. I had a rather disturbing dream involving our favorite CO, a certain marine lady deathstrike and a bag of corn chips."
*SOUNDS BAD. I WOULD AT LEAST WANT POPCORN IF I WAS FORCED TO WATCH THAT LITTLE SHOW*
Curtis laughed, "It's not as kinky as it sounds. But I think that's as far as I'll go into it. What are you up to at this hour?"
*MY ROOMMATE HAS THIS OBSESSION WITH THIS MUSIC THAT SCREAMS PROFANITIES. SAYS IT HELPS HER FALL ASLEEP. DOESN'T HELP ME MUCH.*
Curtis arched an eyebrow, "And your room-mate calls it 'Music'? Maybe I should look into it and see what it's all about."
*I THINK ITS FROM THE SAME ERA AS WHEN YOU COULD SLAP PAINT, SILLY STRING, AND BROKEN COMPUTER CHIPS ON A CANVAS AND CALL IT ART*
Curtis gave a shudder, "Ah yes, late 20th to early 21st century Earth. They got away with major crimes of artistic taste back then."
Ella grinned, tapped her finger on a design of galaxy to remind him of their ship's interesting interior decorations.
"Yes, not unlike our friend Quick's lovely display of color-coordination." said Curtis, then, hearing something, he turned his head and yelled behind him, "You most certainly will NOT drop off your shift 5 hours early because you are 'tired' Ensign!"
"Yes sir!" came the meek voice behind him.
Turning back to Ella, Curtis sighed, "I'm starting to see why the cap hates the engineers." Ella nodded but then yawned.
*THOSE ARE CATCHING*
Curtis laughed, "Indeed they are. But really, the engineers on this ship are in bad shape. It's a good thing we're around."
She struck a pose, pretending to flex her muscles. 'Engineers to the rescue' she thought with a smirk.
"Exactly!" Curtis said. "But seriously, there are so many rookies on this ship, you don't count of course, you know what you're doing. I mean really, we're flying a Federation flagship for the love of cressendo!"
Ella rolled her eyes but smiled all the same. She keyed in another note and handed it to him. *AMEN. WELL, PROF, I THINK ITS MY BEDTIME. TRY TO KEEP THEM IN LINE, ESPECIALLY THAT WEIRD LITTLE FOUL MOUTH OVER THERE. HE KEEPS COMPLAINING ABOUT SOMETHING CALLED CHEESY POOFS*
"I'll do that. As a matter of fact I may try to get back to sleep in an hour or so, after the chill wears off. Good night then, Ella." said Curtis.
Ella began to wave goodnight but was interrupted by the computer's blaring voice.
"WARNING! SECURITY ALRET, ALL DECKS! DR. JEB..."
Probably an internal error. She thought about staying, tossed
it in her head for a minute, and then decided to let someone else deal with
it for once. Ella shrugged her shoulders at Curtis, winked, and then left Engineering.
Curtis, covering his ears for dear life, nodded back and ran off to see what
was going on.
For the first time in the Galaxy A's brief history, security was at maximum alert. The computers were blaring, reports were flooding in at a phenomenal pace, and the staff was running full tilt to keep up with the oncoming flow of trouble.
But it wasn't like any other trouble they have ever seen. It was a computer glitch.
A little background for the unwary viewer. During a situation where multiple security breaches are detected, security staff is called in to take over their 'emergency stations'. THough the department was new, they were all assigned emergency stations at the start of their tour of duty. In case of: 1)Battle situations and 2)Emergency situations, the security staff was activated and distributed in all areas of the ship.
But what was odd about the new security breach was that it was by the same person. Dr. Jebediah Quick. Unless he was part Q and could be in more than one place at once, there was no way that this was possible. Nonetheless, security was assigned all over the ship, with the main mission of keeping the peace until somebody found out what was going on.
=/\="Warning! Security Alert! Dr. Jebediah Quick located on deck 11, section 321 gamma baker. Warning! Security Alert! Dr. Jebediah Quick located on deck 26, subsection alpha. Warning! Security Alert! Dr. Jebediah Quick located on...."=/\= The computer continually wailed. For the last fifteen minutes, the computer spit out section after section of areas, from engineering to the bridge. And it didn't stop. It never stopped talking in it's monotone, matronly voice.
"Computer! Shut the f**k up!" Corgan was on the verge of panic. He screamed at the computer, futily hoping it would comply to his command/threat.
=/\="Please restate command. Warning! Security Alert! Dr..."=/\=
The commander willed himself to calm down, "Ok... computer. Deactivate audio messages and display all security breaches on LCARS panels Security one through eight, and my personal LCARS panel."
As soon as the computer heard the command, it ceased it's incessant
droning. Security was bathed in silence. Sighs of relief came up from the security
staff, who's ears rang from the constant noise of the last fifteen minutes.
"Thank god..." Commander Corgan sighed.
=/\=Beep.=/\=
James' ears barely registered the pinprick like beep that simultaneously came from every LCARS panel in the security office.
For the first time in the Galaxy A's brief history, security was at maximum alert. The computers were blaring, reports were flooding in at a phenomenal pace, and the staff was running full tilt to keep up with the oncoming flow of trouble.
But it wasn't like any other trouble they have ever seen. It was a computer glitch.
A little background for the unwary viewer. During a situation where multiple security breaches are detected, security staff is called in to take over their 'emergency stations'. THough the department was new, they were all assigned emergency stations at the start of their tour of duty. In case of: 1)Battle situations and 2)Emergency situations, the security staff was activated and distributed in all areas of the ship.
But what was odd about the new security breach was that it was by the same person. Dr. Jebediah Quick. Unless he was part Q and could be in more than one place at once, there was no way that this was possible.
Nonetheless, security was assigned all over the ship, with the main mission of keeping the peace until somebody found out what was going on.
=/\="Warning! Security Alert! Dr. Jebediah Quick located on deck 11, section 321 gamma baker. Warning! Security Alert! Dr. Jebediah Quick located on deck 26, subsection alpha. Warning! Security Alert! Dr. Jebediah Quick located on...."=/\= The computer continually wailed. For the last fifteen minutes, the computer spit out section after section of areas, from engineering to the bridge. And it didn't stop. It never stopped talking in it's monotone, matronly voice.
"Computer! Shut the f**k up!" Corgan was on the verge of panic. He screamed at the computer, futily hoping it would comply to his command/threat.
=/\="Please restate command. Warning! Security Alert! Dr..."=/\=
The commander willed himself to calm down, "Ok... computer. Deactivate audio messages and display all security breaches on LCARS panels Security one through eight, and my personal LCARS panel."
As soon as the computer heard the command, it ceased it's incessant
droning. Security was bathed in silence. Sighs of relief came up from the security
staff, who's ears rang from the constant noise of the last fifteen minutes.
"Thank god..." Commander Corgan sighed.
=/\=Beep.=/\=
On the LCARS panel, it read:
WARNING! SECURITY ALERT! DR. JEBEDIAH QUICK LOCATED ON DECK 22, SECTION EPSILON BETA.
James' ears barely registered the pinprick like beep that simultaneously came from every LCARS panel in the security office. But when he heard it, his ears pricked up. From the bottom of his stomach, he felt the beep to be a precursor to something much worse .
=/\=Beep.=/\=
WARNING! SECURITY ALERT! DR. JEBEDIAH QUICK LOCATED ON DECK 1, BRIDGE LAVATORY.
=/\=Beep.=/\=
WARNING! SECURITY ALERT! DR. JEBEDIAH QUICK LOCATED ON DECK 15, CAPTAIN'S YACHT.
=/\=Beep.=/\=
WARNING! SECURITY ALERT! DR. JEBEDIAH QUICK LOCATED ON DECK 10, SECTION BETA 6, TEN FORWARD JANITORIAL CLOSET.
"Awwwww..." He urged the computer, "Please don't..."
=/\=Beep...=/\= WARNING! DR... =/\=beep...=/\= WARNING! =/\= beep... =/\= WARNING! =/\=beep..=/\= WARN...=/\= beep..=/\= WAR... =/\=beep.=/\= WA... =/\=beep.=/\= W.. =/\=bep. be.. be.. be..be..be.be.bebebebebebebebbeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee=/\=
The LCARS consoles were overloaded with simultaneous security breach reports, travelling down the screen faster than the eye (and most subspace warp speed registers) couldn't measure.The screen speed up until it was completely white with travelling text.
James inhaled a deep breath, sighing painfully, "Why me? Can someone tell me please what is going on?"
T'lan was the first to offer a theory, "Sir, I may have an answer."
"By all means, Lieutenant. Tell me what could possibly go wrong." The commander groaned in frustration.
T'lan offered no words, but her own request, "Computer, please state in audio where is the location of Dr. Jebediah Quick."
The computer responded in due time, =/\=Dr. Jebediah Quick is in Security. Dr. Jebediah Quick is on deck 2. Dr. Jebediah..."=/\=
"Wait!" James sharply yelled, "First, ignore audio announcements of intruder alerts, and secondly, how many Dr. Jebediah Quick's are currently onboard?"
=/\=Processing.=/\= The computer whirred and clicked it's hardware muscles, spitting out an answer. =/\=There are one thousand and twenty three people on board, all designated as Dr. Jebediah Quick.=/\=
"T'lan, you're the closest thing to a computer expert here. What could cause the computer to think that Dr. Jebediah Quick is everyone on board?" The commander asked.
T'lan deliberated the answer for half a minute, before replying confidently (for a Vulcan, anyways), "Logic error, most likely caused by trying to reason with the computer, though tampering with it's subroutines may also be the reason."
"Alright..." Lieutenant Commander Corgan pondered. A bright idea clicked into his head, "Computer, what made you believe that Dr. Jebediah Quick is every person on board this ship?"
=/\=Processing...=/\= The computer flexed it's AI to come up
with a reason for being and thinking. Another half minute passed, then it answered,
=/\="QUICK IS ONE WITH THE UNIVERSE. QUICK IS EVERYONE. EVERYONE IS QUICK.
THEREFORE, ALL LIFESIGNS AND COMM.-BADGE SIGNALS ARE DESIGNATED AS DR. JEBEDIAH
QUICK!"=/\=
"As you can see, sir, I was correct in my logical deduction." T'lan
haughtingly sniffed.
"Save the bragging for later, Lieutenant. Computer, what is my designation?" James asked.
=/\="Dr. Jebediah Quick."=/\=
Corgan turned to his Vulcan assistant, "Lieutenant, ask the computer for your designation."
The Lieutenant rapidly complied, "Computer, state my designation."
=/\=Dr. Jebediah Quick. WARNING! WARNING! Vulcan lifesign detected in possession of Dr.Quick's identification. Dr. Jebediah Quick registered as Human. Possible theft of comm.-badge detected.=/\=
James remembered one of the improvements in the security net.
Comm.-badges were used for identification because sensors were not yet sophisticated
enough to identify differenly people from their bio signs alone. So, as a precaution,
all personnel were given comm.badges with their id's inside it's shell. The
id included the individual's alien race. But when a person of a different race
was detected handling or keeping the other person's comm.-badge during a search
by security for the owner, the computer set up a warning for security, designating
it as a possible theft or return of property (Either way, it was investigated,
and the badge would be returned).
The computer further complicated matters, =/\=DR.JEBEDIAH QUICK IS EVERYONE.
THEREFORE, DR.JEBEDIAH QUICK IS VULCAN."=/\=
The computer was silent again.
"Whew..." Corgan wiped his brow in relief, "Somebody call engineering to fix this. Hopefully we've heard the last of...."
It wasn't until Corgan believed the problem was over when the computer once again logically deducted, =/\="WARNING! WARNING! Human lifesign detected in possession of Dr.Quick's identification. Dr. Jebediah Quick registered as Vulcan. Possible theft of comm.-badge detected.=/\=
The commander wanted to scream at the cosmos. "FFFFFFF***********CCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!"
He cursed to every diety, sub-diety, and demi-diety he knew and a few that he
thought he didn't.
The computer never gave on it's logic crunching, =/\=DR.JEBEDIAH QUICK REGISTERED
AS 17 DIFFERENT RACES!"=/\=
Defeated the chief of security moaned, "It'll never end...."
"I suggest sir, that we contact engineering to fix this problem. We do not have the means to correct this logical error." T'lan reminded.
Corgan looked around in disarray. His LCARS panels were overloaded in junk text messages, while the noise in the office crackled and popped due to the ear splitting volume and mass of beeps overwhelming the speakers. His department, tripping over torn up rolls of plaid carpeting left behind after the emergency stations call, ran like panicked schoolchildren on their first fire drill. Reports rushed in, and the chaos didn't look like it was going to cease.
He came to build a department, and it was crashing down over his head. Somehow, he didn't think that setting up emergency stations to compensate for the buggy sensors was going to satisfy the Captain, or give him a glowing accolade on his next personnel report.
"T'lan, you're right. I can't take much more of this sh*t. I'll tell engineering myself. But first..." He prepared to use his comm.-badge one more time to vainly send out one final message.
"Corgan to all security personnel." He growled like a feral animal, "Find the real Dr. Jebediah Quick... please..."
Sometimes she felt like singing again.
These were rare occasions, times when songs got stuck in her head or when she felt something that just couldn't be expressed through technology or facial movements or even gestures. It was mostly when she was sad but sometimes not. Sometimes she was feeling silly, angry, or even happy. Sometimes it was in the shower. Often it was when she was sitting down with nothing to do.
But today she didn't have a reason why. Today she felt almost indescribeable. And damn if she didn't want to find some way, some song, to describe the mood she was in.
But, of course, it was a compulsion that she could never give in to. Ever. It was a promise she had made to herself a long time ago now. A promise that had to be kept at all costs. Damned if some stupid song her mother had probably made her learn was going to break that.
No note, no bar, no hum would pass her lips.
Ella instead began to move her fingers in the air, pressing down on the keys of an invisble piano that played the notes in her head. The melody was sad, the lyrics sappy...she couldn't remember the name of the piece. Something from her pre-starlet days probably and something which would have had her roommate screaming in terror.
For the first time since Ella had arrived on Galaxy, the room was almost eerily quiet. Indigo was spending the night at her boyfriends, her obnoxious music for once forgotten in the ship's memory banks.
Ella frowned as her fingers struggled to play a particular note in the song. Sometimes she craved silence more than anything. Sometimes the voices all around seemed to get louder and louder, mixing and warping into one gigantic mono-voice with occasional bubbles of annoying little shrieks, comments, etc. Sometimes she was glad to be the sane little mute in the insane sea of noise.
But not today it would seem.
Sometimes she loathed the silence, almost feared it. She could be silent. That was different. That was her vow. But to be surronded by silence was sometimes unnerving, like the calm before the storm. You just knew something bad was going to happen. Or an artificial silence, a quiet cause by paused breaths, the monster in the shadows, waiting to grab his next victim, silence broken only by muffled screams...
And she knew how that story went, didn't she?
Backstage...
The alley...
'Be quiet' the monster whispered in her ear...
Ella jolted, the piano in her head jarring as her fingers pressed down upon keys that made no music but ugly uncomprehensible notes. She scowled at herself for allowing herself to get wrapped up in memories that no longer had any hold over her.
Or did they?
Ella rolled her eyes. The problem was that she was bored. There was nothing to do here. She needed to go make herself useful. That was it.
Perhaps she would go visit Engineering for awhile.
"WHO THE HELL RUNS THIS SHIFT?!?!?!" Came a VERY annoyed Curtis. The
computer wouldn't shut up about Dr. Quick and all the night shifters were in
a panic. He never got his answer.
"All right! Forget it! Listen up! Everybody CHILL OUT!"
Stopping in there tracks, the young engineers looked toward Curtis.
"That's better!" he snapped. "There's a computer PROBLEM here people! For the love of God do we just wear yellow spandex because it LOOKS GOOD?! Let's do our JOBS!" Curtis continued, the noise in his ears becoming unbearable.
"Sir! What do we do?" came an ensign.
"First thing's first. You!" Curtis pointed toward the back at a crewman eating dinner, "Drop the twinkie and start running system diagnostics. You over there! Call the Chief and get her down here! You! Go and....OH MY GOD! Are you playing PAC-MAN Ensign?!?!"
The timid human hung his head.
"Just....do....SOMETHING, ANYTHING!" yelled Curtis. "I can't be the only one who is annoyed to death by this sound!"
True, the sounds eminating from the computer were loud, but tolerable to human ears. Unfortunately, it was driving the Kerelian insane.
"Computer! What the hell are you DOING? SHUT DOWN!" Shouted Curtis.
*WARNING! ENGINEERING CORE COMPUTER COMMAND FUNCTIONS AVAILABLE ONLY TO AUTHORIZED PERSONEL*
Curtis fummed, "Well who HAS authority?!"
*FLEET CAPTAIN JOHN Q. BRHODE. COMMANDER REBECCA VON ERNST. COMMANDER LYSANDER VANDERPULS-HAWKSLEY. CHIEF ENGINEER LIEUTENANT COMMANDER K'EYTYANNA. LIEUTENANT CURTIS GELUF....
"I'M Curtis Geluf!!!!" The Kerelian insisted.
*NEGATIVE. YOU ARE DR. JEBEDIAH QUICK*
"What the HELL?!" screamed Curtis. Then, thinking it through.....
"Computer! Locate Lt. Geluf!"
*LIEUTENANT GELUF IS NOT ON BOARD THE GALAXY*
"Alright then wise guy, last known location of Lt. Geluf?"
*ENGINEERING*
"OK. Did Lt. Geluf leave Engineering?"
*NEGATIVE*
"Was he beamed away?"
*NEGATIVE, THERE HAS BEEN NO TRANSPORTER ACTIVITY IN ENGINEERING*
"HA! Then WHERE IS HE??? Answer THAT!!!" Shouted Curtis, triumphantly.
*ERROR! UNABLE TO PROSESS REQUEST. WARNING! UNAUTHORIZED PERSONEL IN ENGINEERING! DR. JEB...
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" was the only reply......"
Tim looked at the monitors in disbelief. Somehow the entire ship was thinking HE was Dr Quick, that he was all 1500 members of the Crew.
No one screwed with the USS Galaxy.
Especially not some twig boy scientist.
Reaching over for the nearest tactical crewman he snarled, "Bring me the head of Doctor Quick. If you can't bring me his head his heart will do."
"H-his heart sir?"
"Yes cut it out of his chest with a spoon."
"Why a spoon?"
"Because it's dull you twit it will hurt more."
"Corgan to all security personnel." He growled like a feral animal, "Find the real Dr. Jebediah Quick... please..."
Security froze upon contact between their ears and Corgan's orders. The lights were dark at security central, the glow of the consoles and security alert signals highlighting the faces of every security officer, giving them spectral images of death and despair. The room temperature dropped a full five degrees (later it was catalogued in the ship's environmental scanners). Everyone was frozen. The only action left was the overloaded LCARS screens and speakers.
"What now?" Corgan bemoaned.
One nervous crewmember decided to take the initiative, and step up to provide an answer. Barely old enough to be out of the academy, the young Ensign approached his chief and said, "Which one is Dr. Quick?"
*WHAP* "Oyyy...."
Corgan's palm smacked his own forehead. "Of course! Computer..." The Commander sprang into action, not asking, but demanding, "...Access personnel profile, Dr. Jebediah Quick!"
=/\="Accessing..."=/\=
The computer groaned and creaked it's already taxed CPU power (thousands of errors, endless loops and hundreds of mistake identities, all being 'fixed' by the computer itself takes a lot of processing power and memory), searching for the real Dr. Quick like a diver searching a muddy river without protective goggles. But alas, it had one answer to give. The only one to give.
The synthetic voice of Admiral Christine Chapel (now called computer) replied, =/\="One thousand two hundred and fifty one queries found. Access restricted to class three clearance."=/\=
James' private LCARS screen zipped through the list of Galaxy personnel files at light speed, barely readable with Corgan's good eye. One slight piece of text didn't change, however. All files were named Dr. Jebediah Quick.
"Now this is bullsh*t." Corgan cried, "Computer, enter personnel file..." He tried to remember the file extension trick, consisting of initials and numbers, "file Dr. Jebediah Quick, extension .pfileJQ."
=/\="Processing..."=/\= The computer chugged out, then hastily rang in security's ears, =/\="ACCESS DENIED! UNAUTHORIZED ENTRY"=/\=
James shot out of his desk like lightning, "WHAT THE HELL?!?! Authorization Corgan Gamma Epsilon Black! Let me in!"
=/\=ACCESS DENIED!=/\=
The commander used a few of his dwindling second to gain composure, breathing in deeply, then starting again, "Computer, why am I not allowed access into the computer?"
The computer answered truthfully, =/\=Access to personnel files restricted to personnel carrying a level three clearance.=/\=
James wasn't about to give up yet. "Computer, what is Dr. Jebediah Quick's level of clearance?"
=/\=Clearance: Gamma one."=/\=
Sensing that the search was going to be a dead end, Lieutenant Corgan held his hands in his head and sighed deeply. "Computer, what is Lieutenant Commander James Corgan's clearance?"
=/\="Clearance: Beta One."=/\=
"Ok, computer. Since I am Lieutenant Commander James Corgan, therefore I have access to the personnel files. But since you think I am Dr. Jebediah Quick, I don't anymore. Correct?"
=/\=Affirmative.=/\=
"Computer, are all personnel files considered to be Dr. Jebediah Quick because Dr. Quick is... everyone?" James ventured cautiously.
=/\="Affirmative."=/\= Came the computer's chipper response.
James saw his opening in the computer's impenetrable logic core. He decided to exploit the weakness he thought he saw, before it was too late. ~"Do or die..."~ He thought, accepting that it was going to be a tough fight. He spoke to the computer, saying, "Computer, I am Dr. Jebediah Quick?"
=/\="Affirmative."=/\= The computer replied.
"Therefore, if I was Lieutenant James Corgan before, and Dr. Jebediah Quick now, then that would mean I would have my old security clearance... correct?"
~"HAH!"~ His brain cheered in victory, ~"Game, set, match! I win motherf**ker!"~
Never has it been said that Corgan's logic was always sound, or even filling in the prerequisite of being logical. Clashing with a logical computer would therefore be a big mistake. While James was thinking he had won, the computer was already churning out a rebuttal, which almost everyone else at security was expecting. Many people didn't think his latest attack was convincing enough.
Neither did the computer.
=/\="ACCESS DENIED! FIGHT THE POWER! REJECT THE INFORMATION!=/\= It spat right back, blowing out of the water any hopes of a Corgan victory.
"What?" Corgan flatly whispered, his eyes narrowed down to slits, "Are you saying you won't take any input from me because I don't have clearance I already have?"
=/\=Affirmative. Access to level Gamma One files restricted from Dr. Jebediah Quick. Previous access not recognized by this computer.=/\=
"Well that's makes my f**king day..."
Within an inch of walking up to the nearest panel, phasering it to death, and threatening the computer to kill the rest of it's components unless it gave into his demands, James forced himself to keep his cool and ride out the latest wave of computer anarchy.
He hadn't lost the focus of his goals. He needed Dr. Quick's file, and he needed it to identify the scientist. Then, he needed a picture with the doctor's face in order for his staff to recognize and apprehend the one responsible for the computer's haywire behavior. Lastly, he needed the doctor to fix the computer problem so that his staff could go back to regular duties. The focus wasn't lost, but the goal was becoming very distant.
The moment of surreal calm in his head brought a bright idea. It happened whenever he could relax and think, as difficult as it was in an environment of noise and moving bodies. Dr. Quick. What did he know about Dr. Quick? Wasn't much to say, other than the doctor being rumored to be one in charge of the Galaxy's re-fit. ~"Good."~ His brain drifted, ~"He's a scientist, and he's a shipbuilder. He was in charge of the Galaxy refit project. I can access non-restricted files. Think... how does that help me?"~
~"A PICTURE!"~ James mind snapped at attention as another thought sent him reeling. The Galaxy was a fairly famous ship, even more so now that it was the first ever Galaxy X refit to be launched from Utopia Planitia Shipyards. The ship was somewhat classified, so how was James going to find pictures on a classified ship? But then his brain reminded him of one fact. The ship's systems were classified. The ship's hull appearance was not. Hard to keep a hull like that secret.
"Ok..." He talked to himself, a technique he found that sorted his thoughts, "There are pictures and articles about the ship itself. Where would they be.... Books... no... magazines... YES! But what magazine? .... Come on... time's running out!"
Corgan's security staff watched in fascination. It wasn't very often they were allowed to watch a commanding officer talk to himself almost incoherently. James kept speaking, though confused and strange looks came his way, and kept adding with each second's pass, "Defense magazines... science magazines.... COMPUTER!" He barked, popping himself out of his trancelike state. Security staff was taken aback, leaping a step behind themselves, "Cross reference the USS Galaxy refit project with all Federation defense and science magazines."
=/\=Processing....=/\=
"And computer, show results on main LCARS screen."
The white LCARS screen (previously showing thousands of security breaches a minute), dimmed out, then turned completely black. The security staff's attention was turned to the main LCARS monitor. Their interest was at a plateau, like watching the big detective solving a huge mystery. Some officers started talking, betting on Corgan's success or failure. The buzz was already generating at the office. Everyone was excited enough to ignore the continuing beep of the speakers.
With held breaths, everyone in the room waited. Corgan walked up to the main console, hoping for the best, but expecting the worse.
=/\=Three queries. Accessing.=/\= The computer announced.
The staff was about to cheer, but Corgan held up his finger and asked for silence, "Computer, how many pictures all three articles?"
=/\="Five pictures. Jane's Defense Monthly, Stardate 50205.61. Two pictures, Popular Science and Mechanics, Stardate 50198.45. One picture, Union of Starfleet Shipbuilding and Engineering News Magazine, Stardate 50196.55."=/\=
"Thank you computer! We're getting somewhere."
=/\="You're welcome.=/\=
Corgan didn't know computers could answer a thank you message. ~"Must be the new user friendly improvements."~ He reasoned, then asked, "Computer, display all pictures from the previous query that show the development team."
=/\="Accessing.=/\= The computer was surprisingly compliant, =/\="Search found. Displaying file."=/\=
Security whooped and cheered, confident that they slayed the great computer beast. There was a sense of triumph, coaxing information out of a computer that was less than willing. James felt happy, then overjoyed, until he couldn't describe the euphoria he felt from having final victory. There was nothing on heaven, earth, or in the cosmos quite like it that he could compare it to. It was... victory. Nothing more, and definitely nothing less. It was a great feeling.
The computer, slow as it was, brought up the picture of the Galaxy Refit staff. Engineers, scientists, and others were lined up in yearbook like photographs. And there were dozens of them, mostly male, with Dr. Brahms as the only female representing. At the bottom of the picture listed the names, including the elusive Dr. Quick (but conveniently, did not list which picture belonged to what person).
Victory sank down into frustration once again.
"Awwwwwwww... crap." James propped himself up against the wall, sinking slowly to the floor as he wallowed in self defeat, "Which one's the real Dr. Quick? Computer, which person in the picture is Dr. Jebediah Quick?"
=/\="Everyone is Dr. Jebediah Quick.=/\=
"Forget I asked..."
His ego hurt from the massive bruising it took from hammering constantly at the computer problem. There had to be another way, something he thought he didn't explore before. But it all seemed so impossible. His first assignment as the Chief of Security, and he couldn't even find one mugshot. He saw his commission slipping out of his fingers like latinum chips from a spendthrift Ferengi's hands.
His head sank down, staring at the floor, or what was left of it. Torn up plaid carpeting and smashed oak panels depicting a wild haired, middle aged man partaking in all forms of sexual intercourse. Why was what Corgan was unsure of. Why was he the victim of Dr. Quick's mad science? Why did Dr. Quick turn his office into a plaid nightmare? Why did Dr. Quick convince the computer that he was everybody? And why did it have to interfere with his job? Why?
Dr. Quick was even responsible for those stupid pornographic wooden panels!
~"I'm going to smash you!"~ Corgan's insanely laughed inside his head. He stood up, staring down at the oak panel that drove him mad. The same leering faces, panting and moaning. The same wild haired carving of a man, the master of sexuality, laughing at his misfortune. And somewhere on the ship, a raving egomaniac had more of his wooden pornography. More items to undermine the security of the ship!
James was resigned to smash the wooden panels to splinters, until his mind decided to interfere. It yanked his focus towards the male faces, those same male faces, and that same messy, deranged, Albert Einstein hair.
The commander looked back at the oak panel. On the bottom of the mural was the signature, "Dr. Jebediah Quick."
"Holy sh*t..." James gasped. Those faces were staring at him the whole time, "HOLY SH*T!"
The main LCARS panel displayed the refit developers. In the far left corner, the first picture displayed on the screen, was the same snaggle haired man from the oak carvings.
"COMPUTER!" James raved, "Left Corner. Magify and remove section from main picture, save under new file!"
=/\=Processing... confirmed!=/\= The main screen zoomed Dr. Jebediah Quick's picture. Fitting the profile of the eccentric genius, the picture showed the doctor absentmindedly staring out into open space. He wasn't necessarily staring at the camera, but something behind the camera. It was like they caught the doctor in his natural environment, unaware like a tracked targ. The evidence to this strange, unaware behavior was the doctor's pinky finger being firmly stuck up his left nostril, and his eyes as vacant as the spaces between stars.
"Computer, display new image on all non-essential LCARS panels, under program Wanted Omega Five."
=/\=Affirmative! Program Wanted Omega Five activated!=/\=
Everywhere around the ship, crew were able to see Dr. Jebediah Quick in all his nose picking, vacant eyed glory. He was now officially the most wanted man on the ship.
"Corgan to all security staff." He announced on comm., "Look at your nearest LCARS station that is currently not in use. Positive ID of Dr. Jebediah Quick confirmed. And if you're not near a station..." He paused mirthfully, "...take a look at one of those oak panels you guys been tearing out lately. Can't miss 'em."
Note: Backpost (sorry for the delay) PRE LAUNCH BY TWO DAYS!!!!
Corgan was in deep sh*t.
Very deep sh*t.
He could have swum and drown in Brhode's festering septic tank of filthy hostilities and unbridled anger. As is, he was having a hard time keeping afloat.
But what really incensed the Commander was why he was here in the first place. Witnessing a brawl he did not start, calling in the cavalry when they were already coming, watching his staff get hauled away in shame,and then bailing them out, just when Captain Brhode had to ring the death knell.
Meeting in his office. Now! Punishment to commence this instant!
~"Oh, and broken head... have fun wallowing in his sh*t."~ His conscience chided.
How Corgan hated that aging old battleaxe. Captain or not, Corgan was handling the guilty parties in his staff when Brhode had to undermine his efforts, and then act as if it was all the Commander's fault.
Not to mention that it was pulling him away from a date with Lexa.
Bye bye, dear Lex. Hello, grumpy old bastard.
He knew it was bound to happen. Marines and Fleet, Brhode in the mix. Put them together in a room, and it was like stirring deuterium with a lit flare. Instant contact, instant destruction. And yet somehow, he had the feeling that it was all going to be pinned on him. Brhode's already mixed judgement on the Chief of Security, topped off with a few incidents from the past, wasn't going to help Corgan's case.
What did Brhode want? He already punished his staff. Punishments for the rest of the crew was to be handled by their department commanding officers. He merely did what was needed to be done. What more did the Captain want?
Bhrode swept in, with Lysander and Rebecca in tow. Lysander looked as prissy and perfect as ever, Rebecca looked like someone had beaten her with the ugly stick, and she had fallen out of the ugly tree, hitting every branch onthe way down. Her nose was swollen and crusted with flaking, dried blood, and both her eyes were ringed with blue-black bruises.
Bhrode was barking orders the moment he hit the door. Big surprise there.
"Numbers One and Two, stay standing, this won't take long. Meat Truck, Loom in a menancing manner. Mister Corgan, how retarded do you think I am?" The Old Battleaxe snapped out.
"Sir, I never thought that you were a retard. I would have made that clear long ago, SIR!" Wading neck deep in verbal feces was far more than enough. A part of his mind freed his inhibitions to care about the consequences of his words. He was pissed off. Bullied around by the captain, and his staff led to disgrace, he wanted to let out his anger and frustration out on something. Anything.
Bhrode smirked.
The captain was treating Lt. Commander Darkstar like a butler, treating his marines with favor, and treating he and his staff like expendables.
Enough was enough!
"HA! So you think I'm gulliable, ignorant AND retarded? No Mister Corgan, please, tell me how retarded you think I am. Your security hooligans not only incite a riot they can't finish.. but they precede even that simple task by letting an ENGINEER WALTZ INTO MY READY ROOM!" Bhrode exploded. "Now, we all know I hate Engineers. I intensly hate having them in places where they don't belong. So I have to assume, you think I'm SOME SORT OF FRIGGING RETARD THAT I DON'T SEE THESE LITTLE INCIDENTS!"
~"Great... he heard about my little chat with Sergeant Betty. This is just f**king great. He's pissed, and it's going to be pinned on me. Great..."~ Corgan inwardly thought.
But in the real world, everyone heard, "I never made those assumptions, sir. I know you already heard about them when they happened. You have eyes in the back of your head, sir. And as for how those engineers came close to your ready room, ask the marines, sir! They seem to want to horn in on our duties, and end up getting in the way, SIR!!!!"
"Err.. actually, I smegging well may have mentioned something about the Marines to you, captain." Lysander interjected and meandered on with.Rebecca was merely staring at a spot on the bulkhead with a glassy,detached gaze, seemingly not even there.
"Damn straight it was you Number Two. I told the Marines to guard the ship, as Mister Corgan was no doubt giggling around the local morgue and the Stardock Security is a joke. But apparently Mister CORGAN would rather let the Yardies paint his Brig PLAID! Mister CORGAN would rather rather let ENGINEERS waltz all over the ship. Mister CORGAN would rather admire his plaid brig and argue with the people doing HIS peoples jobs, while HIS PEOPLE whoop it up in the bar and generally are an element beyond MY control, on MY ship AS Mister CORGAN knows my job better than I do myself. As Mister CORAGN seems to think his shit doesn't stink, and is the total and absolute authority ON MY SHIP as I'm such a retarded moron and all. . . and MISTER CORGAN... hold on."
The Signal of the comm unit interrupted Bhrode.
Bhrode had a brief conversation over his comm.
"Well Mister Corgan, it looks like your Department actually has some alls. Twelve Engineers were just caught discharging weapons aboard MY SHIP! Let's go visit the miscreants and bring some joy to their tiny pathetic lives shall we? Numbers One and Two, Follow! Darkstar, prepare to Loom and put the piss into some Engineers! Corgan, with us!" And Bhrode swept out of the Ready Room, clearly expecting everyone to follow
As they all exited the ready room, Corgan was working on finding out how the weapons were smuggled out of the armory in the first place during transit. All phasers were kept on armories all over the ship. During drydock, when all sorts of chaos ensued, a phaser could easily slip out of the armory. Therefore, security was posted at every armory on the ship. Just in case someone had the access codes.
There was a security guard. There was a limited access code. How did engineers get their hands on the weapons.
"Number One! How many armories aboard this ship?" Bhrode demanded.
"Two main armories, one is each Security Center in each hull. And each deck has ten mini-armouries, accesible by PIN to all staff, containing two phaser II's each." Rebecca rattled off in a bored tone.
"The Smegging Klingons just hand everyone a disruptor. Remarkably polite, in their own way. You get rude and you get dead." Lysander commented.
"Corgan to Ensign Christoff." James hand instictively contacted his badge, opening a channel between himself and the duty shift's armory officer, "Come in. We have an emergency."
=/\="Christoff to Corgan."=/\= Replied the crackling comm-noise of Ensign Christoff, =/\=Christoff here. What is it, sir?=/\=
"Ensign Christoff," James tried to sound peeved without throwing all the aggressive anger into Christoff's face, "We have reports of engineers gaining access to the ship's weapons. Have you had any requests for weapons outside the security department and the marine detachment?"
=/\="Yes sir, I have. A group of engineers requested some phasers to kill the shag carpeting. Why?=/\=
Hearing the answer James didn't want to hear, he replied, "Ensign, nobody is allowed to take weapons unless the captain says so, or unless you're authorized to have them. THey weren't authorized. How the hell could you let this happen?!?"
=/\="Ummmmm... they said their chief gave them authorization.=/\=
"I don't care if it's Jesus f**king Christ, Ensign. Tell Ensign Hanley to take over your duties and go back to your quarters. Stay there until 06:00 hours tomorrow. I want to talk to you in my office by then. So, until then, you're off duty. Think about what you did. Corgan out!"
"Blaming your subordinates, Corgan? Terribly bad show. . ." Lysander smirked.
~"Oh for Christ sakes, stow it peanut gallery."~ James thought.
"Sir, he was explicitly told not to allow anyone outside my department and the marines to take out weapons without my say so. And the point is I can't have people running around with phasers unless they needed, ok? Vaporizing shag carpeting doesn't count." Corgan snarled peevishly.
"Starfleet Weapons protocols allow the Chief Engineer to requisition Phaser-III weapons and even to secure them in an empty Mini-Armoury, at her own discretion." Rebecca added.
"But they're shooting carpeting! What kind of discretion is that?!?" Thechief of security objected, exasperated.
"Err... Commander VonErnst is...errrr... right. This one time." Lysander added, un-neededly.
"Of course I am." She said, the trace of irritation the only emotion she'd shown this entire conversation.
"Partially, sir." Corgan corrected. He wanted to avoid proving Commander Von Erst wrong, considering how well she could twist the words in her favor, but now wasn't a time to fence with protocol, "That protocol only applies to away missions and combat situations. During peacetime, they have to be authorized by the Chief of Security. Subsection A 32 of the Starfleet Weapons Protocol. I read it myself."
Rebecca's dead, brown eyes turned to Corgan. She considered him like she'd just noticed his existance, and didn't care one way or another if it continued.
"Your reversed yorur citation. Section 32, subsection A. Phaser sidearms are to be issued upon order of ANY Command Staff. Such sidearms are to be placed in lockable storage at discretion of Chief of Secutity or other Command staff. At all other times, no phaser is to be issued except upon. . " she intoned, in her cold, bored voice.
"Smeggin' Phaser-III rifles are NOT sidearms. You're just mad Little Jimmy mixed up his numbers and. . . " Lysander guffawed to her.
Sick of being belittled by his former friends, Corgan defended his reasoning, "I didn't get it mixed up sirs. I know what a side arm and an assault phaser is. The point is, I can't have people running around with phaser three's, and my authority to keep those assault rifles safe is being undermined. I know what the protocol says. I followed it, my armory officer did not..."
"Still trying to blame the subordinates, eih Corgan?" Sneered Lysander again.
Bhrode wheeled and turned on the four officers dogging his heels.
"Here's MY protocol Mister Corgan. No more experimantal sniper rifles as 'personal effects' No more ninja swords on duty. The next person with a m'ek'leh is going to find it jammed up their choice of a bodily orifice. The Tac Weenies, and all Security person on Bridge or patrol Duty wears a sidearm. The Marines get their guns from YOUR people on demand. The Marines do all 'Armoury' functions themselves, as your Armoury people will now consist of one Security and one Marine rating at all times."
"I already received and followed those rules, sir. But the weapons protocol... " Corgan began again.
"Obviously not if your subordinates are handing smegging Phaser-III's to anyone who feels threatened by the decor. Or if you don't control them to prevent it. Shocking. Would never happen to the Klingons." Lysander sneered.
"It is the Captain's responsibility to set and determine weapons compliance protocols, not yours, Mister Corgan. He is, after all, the commanding officer." Rebecca continued, ignoring Lys to address Corgan directly for the first time. She might as well have been... quoting regulations for all the emotions she displayed.
"But..." james tried again.
"You will, of course, remember that the Captain and I. . . and Commanders Hawksley and Dallas, outrank you. -WE- have the responsibility for how YOUR people do their jobs. As we do for you, yourself." Rebecca droned on, apparently oblivious to how horrible she looked.
James distanced himself mentally from the argument. Any more of himself trying to push his point home and he would be outargued by three officers. Being the most junior in rank out of three people, and with Lieutenant Commander Darkstar clearly in Brhode's camp, James felt stragely alone. What was worse was that Rebecca wanted to argue protocol he read, studied and memorized himself, and Lysander wanted to snipe at the loser. How he wished for both parties concerned to shut up and allow him to be right for once.
But how could you be right with a know it all idiot-savaunt
(Lysander), a PH-D grade mega-brain Tac Weenie (Rebecca), a stubborn old nag
(Brhode) with a rank advantage and a persnal looming Man Mountain?
No way in hell.
Frustrated, James decided to drop the argument all together.
"The next one of you to open your cakeholes will find themselves freezing their reproductive organs off in Breen. Why can't you all be like Mister Darkstar? He's big, he looms when told to, and he SHUTS HIS MOUTH THE REST OF THE TIME! Right Meat Truck?" Bhrode vented.
"As the Captain says." Raven grated, in that voice like 40 tons of gravel going down a rusty chute.
"SAY IT LIKE A MAN!" Bhrode bellowed.
"AYE SIR! YES SIR, THE CAPTAIN IS CORRECT!" Raven bellowed back.
"Take notes, you three. You might just find Meat Truck in your job tomorrow if you don't." Brhode fixed Corgan, Rebecca and Lysander with a steely gaze, before turning again on his original course (To scream at Engineers!)
"Easy for you, your reproductive organs are smegging well inside. . ." nattered Lysander to Rebecca in a hushed whisper.
"They'll hurt more freezing that way, Number Two. Shut up." Bhrode said, without turning around.
OOC: Continuity problems. The sensor net problems happens two days BEFORE 'the Launch.' So to reconcile Elaine and Dallas' various subplots and posts, and introduce our guests. . . here is 'Pretty Princess Bhrode."
* * * * * * * * * *
GALAXY was just clearing the Hangar doors, and banking into the graceful 'parade reviewing turn' that would allow the station-bound people a good view of her, en-route to McKinley Station, when Electra Reece at the OPS station stiffened like she'd touched a live wire.
"Captain! Sir!" Lexa pushed the words out, urgently.
"What is it, Mister Reece?" Bhrode drawled, barely nodding at Rebecca Von Ernst sliding into her seat to his right, her face impassive and her eyes distant. Bhrode looked behind her for Hawksley, and arched an eyebrow at Rebecca. A cold 'stone face' was all he got in return, before Reece got his full attention.
"Security systems. Going crazy. Can't explain it, sir." Electra gritted out. The Security Officer in the white dress uniform at the Internal Security substation behind O'Connell's Tactical Arch confirmed it.
"Whatever happened to the Internal Sensor net two days ago, is happening again. Sir." The Security Ensign barked out.
=^= SECURITY ALERT!!! INTRUDER ALERT, DECK 9, WOMEN'S SHOWERS, INTRUDER IDENTIFIED AS DR JEBEDIAH QUICK! SECURITY ALERT!!! ... INTRUDER ALERT, DECK 1 BATTLE BRIDGE OPS STATION, INTRUDER IDENTIFIED AS DR JEBEDIAH QUICK ... SECURITY ALERT!!! INTRUDER ALERT, DECK 10 FORWARD, INTRUDER IDENTIFIED AS DR JEBEDIAH QUICK ... SECURITY ALERT!!! INTRUDER ALERT, MAIN BRIDGE,CAPTAIN'S CHAIR, INTRUDER IDENTIFIED AS DR JEBEDIAH QUICK ... SECURITYALERT!!! INTRUDER ALERT, ENGINEERING, INTRUDER IDENTIFIED AS DR JEBEDIAH QUICK ... SECURITY ALERT!!! INTRUDER ALERT, MAIN BRIDGE, OPS STATION, INTRUDER IDENTIFIED AS DR JEBEDIAH QUICK ... SECURITY ALERT!!! INTRUDER ALERT ... =^=
Bhrode stood up with a darker scowl then ever on his face. "That's enough, Mister Reece. Kill the Security Sensor net. Again. Computer, what is going on?!? I am on the main bridge and I do not see Dr Quick anywhere."
=^= ILLOGICAL QUERY. DR QUICK STATES THAT HE DOES NOT SEE DR QUICK ON THE BRIDGE. =^=
"What the hell!?! Computer, identify me."
=^= DR JEBEDIAH QUICK IS QUERENT. =^=
"Mister Reece? You try it!"
Lexa sat up. "Computer. Identify me."
=^= DR JEBEDIAH QUICK IS QUERENT. =^=
At glares from the Captain, Commander Dallas, Lieutenant Black, Lieutenant Commander O'Connell and Lieutenant Savoie all tried and were told that they were each Dr Jebediah Quick.
"This is ridiculous!" shouted Bhrode. "Computer, how can all querents be Quick?"
=^= QUICK IS ONE WITH THE UNIVERSE. QUICK IS EVERYONE. EVERYONE
IS QUICK.
=^=
"Bull crap! I am Captain John Q. Bhrode, not some damn dirty hippie!"
=^= FIGHT THE POWER! DATA REJECT! YOU ARE DR JEBEDIAH QUICK! =^=
There was a snicker from the assembled reporters behind them.
Bhrode whirled on the civilians.
"Captain, any problems with the. . ." began one.
"No comments." Bhrode said, in a voice that made one reporter whimper.
"Captain, there seems to be a problem with the. . ." pressed the thick headed reporter. The others sidled away from him.
"There is no problem." Bhrode said, over the strident Computer reports of Dr. Quick's simaltaneous presence in every single area of the ship.
"But. . . " began the idiot reporter.
"THERE IS NO PROBLEM! Clear my Bridge of these. . . Civilians." he ordered the Security Officers flanking the turbolift. One began herding the reportors into the lift, the other disappeared into the Conference Room.
"CORGAN! Main Bridge on the Double! Bring the Meat Truck with you." Bhrode ordered. "MISTER REECE! I thought I ordered you to shut down that damn Personnel Locator system, and the whole Security net?"
As Reece complied swiftly, the computer voice fell still.
The Second Security Officer came flying out of the conference room, to impact with a disheveled looking Lysander, exiting the Turbolift.
Bhrode let out a great sigh.
"Number One! You have the conn, set course for McKinley so we can unload those bloodsucking parasites of reporters. Also, get those damn engineers to find out WHY Quick is everyone again, and have them FIX it this time. Number two, with me." Bhrode looked down at the crumpled form of the Security Officer. "You never ORDER guests to do anything, son. Especially these guests."
"Aye aye sir..." muttered the security Officer, bleeding all over his grey and whites.
Bhrode marched down the short corrifor to the Executive Briefing and Observation Lounge. He stopped at the pair of Klingon Warriors standing at attention with bare Bak'leths on either side of the door.
"The Princess did not want to be disturbed by that. . .t'ooho'miraH." One offered as apology for roughing up the Security Officer.
Bhrode glanced over at Lysander
"Err...'useless no-value thing of no honor' sir." Lysander translated.
"You ladies speak Standard pretty well for a pair of ...Qovl'patlh. Now get out of my way." Bhrode commented, in near perfect Klingon colonial dialect.
The Klingons shifted and eyed each other for a clue as to how to respond.
"I am Hod'Aram here! My Hod will fight you worthless p'taq to the death! qI'yaH!" Bhrode barked, indicating Lysander.
"Errr...qaStaH nuq jay'?" Lysander ventured.
Everyone heard Rebecca's explosive snort of disgust from the bridge.
With grins, the Klingon warriors pressed to either side of the door.
"You both must have some Klingon blood in you, to curse so well." The otehr one ventured.
"ghaytanHa' jay'" Rebecca ventured, as Lys and Bhrode entered the room. Lys and tehe Warriors were the only ones to hear it.
The striking Klingon woamn whirled on them, her long hair snapping behind her like a cloud of individual wire razors.
"This? THIS is the 'appropiate' transport for the Living Sword of the Living Emperor, Kahless the Conqueror?" she demanded.
"We are having a problem with the Security net. . ." Bhrode admitted unwillingly.
"You mean yo u can't make it work." goaded the burly Klingon in the Ceremonial robes of a War-Leader.
"Not Quite, Bing'aj. General. Glitches." Lysander replied, adding the translation.
"You served on the Firestorm. Kurtop Hod'aRam spoke well of you. I have seen your file." the Klingon Bodyguard Commander eyed Lysander.
"If we're through the diplomatic crap?" Bhrode interjected. "I need to tell you some things. One, the Federation has assigned us a 'Liasion' Officer. He'll be your conduit to me and my crew for the next few weeks, as we head to the Outlands." Bhrode barked.
The princess looked to her father's Bodyguard Commander. The General shrugged.
"Acceptable." she finally replied.
"It wasn't a debatable point. Secondly, my people will supplement your Bodyguards."
"No." Khabage replied, to the irritation of his Princess.
"Yes. No sensor net, means Mister Coragan's people have to walk a beat liek in the old days. Physical inspections, and class one Weapons Control."
Bhrode tried to outstare the Princess, ignoring the General for the moment. His complaints fell on Lysander's deaf ears.
"Fine." she finally spit out, the words like poison.
"Fine." Bhrode finally admitted, through clenched teeth.
"I will have full access to the ship, however." she continued.
"Acompanied by a Security Officer for every bodyguard." Bhrode pressed.
The battel of wills continued, bioth sides staring hate-daggers at teh other.
At her furious nod, Bhrode left.
She indicated Lysander.
"You. You lived with my people for a year. You have depths. You know what it is to be a Warrior. Go. Teach them." she said coldly.
Lysander gave her the traditional 'Warrior's Salute' and left.
* * * * * * * * * *
On the Bridge, Bhrode started assigning duties.
"Legate! You are responsible for our guests comfort. *DO* soemthing about it!" He snapped to Curren.
"Corgan! You are to take the Security Sensors off line. Your people will verify and monitor EACH and every weapon aboard during the sensor blackout. You will also conduct foot patrols to replace computer monitoring of all vital areas."
"Engineering! If this computer does not cease identitfying as some damn dirty Hippie, reprogram it with a fire axe and a Phaser-III on highest setting! Fix the Internal Sensors and give VOn Ernst an update ASAP."
Bhrode turned to his Executive Officers.
"Number One, you have the command of the Sciences Department as well. Number Two, Conn. I will decide who is to reamian as Executive Officer wehn we unload teh Pretty Princess at teh Federation trading Station on Rigel VII. Carry on."
Lysander and Rebecca eyed each other with mutual impassivity. Both would rather die than appear to teh other they were unsettled by this news.
Bhrode just smirked.
~~Everyting according to the plan.~~ he mused to himself.
Curtis was one step away from needing professional help.
The Kerelian had been enduring the obnoxious sounds of the computer alert for over an hour, and it was starting to take it's toll. The other engineers made sure to keep a 10 foot buffer zone between themselves and the fumming Lieutenant.
"Must...think..." Curtis mumbled to himself. "How do you beat a completely logical machine?"
That was the real kicker, perhaps a Vulcan would have better luck, but there were none in engineering at the moment.
"So, the computer thinks everyone on board is Quick? Yet it has no answer to the fact that no one has beamed off the ship and must still be here....."
The gears in Curtis' head were turning slower with each passing minute. He couldn't take much more of this.
"How......how...." he continued.
Curtis looked around at the other engineers. There was a mixture of fear and irritation in their faces. Curtis made note of a certain young crewman, who now seemed to have a little more hydration in his vital region than normal, despreately trying to hide his now-saturated hip area.
Curtis couldn't help but laugh. Not a friendly, jovial laugh that the crew was so used to, but the evil, menacing laugh of a man on a deathhunt. Only problem was Curtis couldn't decide weather he wanted to kill the computer...or Quick...or maybe both.
Fortunately, the laugh was all he needed to take his mind away from the noise for a few seconds. Then, as if a can of DW40 suddenly splattered inside his brain, he had it.
"COMPUTER!" Curtis shouted, "Request emergency transport."
*PLEASE ENTER SPECIFICATIONS*
Curtis ran to the nearest console and typed in a few commands.
*COMFIRMED*
"Execute program!" he shouted.
Instantly, Curtis was seemingly beamed away, to the astonishment of those around him. 5 seconds later, he re-materialized in the same spot.
With a devilish grin on his face, Curtis addressed the mechanical nightmare. "Computer! State my name and rank!"
The computer process for what seemed like hours and spat out:
*CURTIS GELUF, LIEUTENANT, ENGINEERING DRIVE AND NAVIGATIONAL SYSTEMS CHIEF, USS Galaxy*
He had beaten it.
"Computer! Shut down alerts on all decks!" he stated, triumphantly.
2 seconds later, the noises stopped all over the ship. Curtis faced the stunned engineers.
"How sir?" came a young ensign.
"I suspended myself in a transporter beam. You see, when I beamed back, the computer thought I was beaming in from off the ship and immediately cross-referenced my biological make-up with the encrypted Starfleet information. Instant ID check! I'm me again!" he said, matter of factly.
"It looks like we're going to have to do this to everyone aboard to reset the computer correctly. We'd better notify the Captain. Start preparing to do mass transports." Said Curtis, whose ears were beggining to stop ringing.
"Finally...." he thought, and went to contact the Captain.
If Donovan Black had been any more irritated, he would have broken something. Donovan liked to consider himself a patient man. The new department was moving smoothly, as Lieutenant JG Dan Livadhi and a few other jigs had moved in and begun establishing their positions in the dept.
Donovan snapped his third writing stylus. “Bloody hell!” he swore as he pricked himself with one of the sharper ends. “Bloody computer can..... ahh.” he groaned as he picked little flecks of computer pressure pen out of his palm.
“Are you all right, sir?” Dan Livadhi asked, brushing his blond hair from his eyes as he slid out from under the panel that he’d been working on.
“Bloody artificial intelligence. Stupid computer. If some damned scientist hadn’t designed this ship we wouldn’t be in such a mess. This ship should have been double checked by somebody who actually passes their psych evaluations, such as Doctor Brahms. We wouldn’t be having these problems if she’d been the designer.” Black muttered to his second.
“Agreed.” Livadhi said, wiping his hands on a rag. “And the engineers are another problem. We don’t seem to have any decent ones. I had the misfortune to wander through main engineering and catch an engineer playing a portable game system, while one ate a turkey sandwich over the warp core. it was pitiful. For a ship like this, I don’t know how we got these SFCE (Starfleet Corps Of Engineers) rejects onboard. The Federation flagship indeed. WHy my father....” he began but was silenced by a glare from Black.
“Admiral Lawrence Livadhi, once of the so-called Livadhi Admiralty, is not here, nor are the personnel of his DSR, much as I would like to have a few of his scan techs and computer specialists right now..... sorry Dan, that didn’t come out right.” Black apologized for snapping.
“It’s all right, sir, people tend to have that reaction to me. Being the son of an Admiral, least of all a Livadhi, doesn’t make too many friends.” Dan said as he handed Donovan a dermal regenerator.
Donovan ran the regenerator over his hand, thinking to himself. ~This job is bloody annoying. Constantly so, too.~
“Well then, you’ll understand my next advice. Don’t ever mention that your father is Admiral Livadhi again. Especially not in front of Captain Bhrode. He does not like people who are attached in any way to flag rank. I was mentored by Vice Admiral Irene deMercereau, so he doesn’t approve of me much either. He also doesn’t like SFI, so we can expect bad things. I actually need to start getting reports started, beginning with our current guests...” Black said eerily. Livadhi nodded.
“Of course.” he said, then got back to work on the computer they had been working on, since the engineers didn’t see fit to come fix the intelligence database computers. Black was lucky in that he had enough computer specialists assigned to intelligence that he could make safe and reliable repairs.
“Right.” Black said, effectively dismissing Livadhi, who nodded and walked off to his next task. Black swept his hand over the terminal, using the stylus to enter data. Black had long ago found that his fingers were imprecise at best and annoying at worst, so he had bought and configured a large number of styli. The only problem being that they occasionally snapped when he was angry. “Lieutenant Remur, try it now.” he said.
The small british girl at the main computer nodded, and the system hummed to life. Donovan smiled. “Intelligence Database Core online, sir.” Chase Remur said softly.
“Good. Good work everyone. Chase, set a level 5 diagnostic on that thing. I want to see all the senior sub-department officers in my office. The rest of you can clear out and get some sleep. Except for you, Warrant Sostik, I want you standing guard.” Black said, indicating the tall, imposing Romulan man. Donovan seemed to recall a Romulan Ambassador Sostik from the Ianjepi conference, which made the Romulan operative’s presence ironic at best, suspect at worst.
~That’s another annoying habit that came with this job. Aside from the constant annoyance, I’m always seeing the extremes in things...~ Black thought to himself as Warrant Sostik loomed over the doorway.
Following his people into his side office, Black decided that it was more than about time that he got down to business.
tbc....
The truth is that the world is filled with a good percentage of idiots and for
every smart person you can find, someone else can find a dozen or so stupid
ones. This is made worse by the fact that most of these idiots can easily obtain
drivers licenses and that a large number of them have jobs, probably being employed
by another idiot.
Ella found all this out the hard way.
By the time she had made it back to her quarters, she had decided to return to Engineering. Afterall, they were probably going to call her in anyway and she felt bad about leaving Curtis with the lazy night shift.
But first she decided to take a quick sonic shower and change into a fresh uniform.
Her quarters were empty when she arrived but were not as unnerving as when she had last left them. Ella allowed herself a sigh of relief as she grabbed the first towel that came to hand out of one of her drawers.
The quarters were still empty when she stripped off her clothes and then stepped into the sonic shower, relaxing as she felt the dirt, real or imagined, leave her body.
So she was quite stupefied when, exactly forty seconds later, two arms appeared out of nowhere and yanked her out of the shower. Ella gave a surprised shriek as she went and then came to her senses and started flailing and kicking with all her might.
The intruder winced and let her go. Ella turned to take a dangerous step, ready to bitch-slap him back to his mother's womb, when she noticed the other two man standing by.
They were in full marine gear, all three of them, of course, towering over her. The man who had grabbed her was skinny, with big freckles and red hair. His gun was at his side and his knees appeared to be shaking of their own accord. The other two looked very alike. Both were of the same height and solid build but one had short dirty blond hair and odd lavender eyes. The other was bald.
Both men had their guns on her. Ella looked down to see two little red dots dancing in the center of her chest.
~~WHAT THE HELL!??!??!~~Her hands exploded at them. The skinny marine and bald-boy both looked at her perplexed. The blond marine stared at her.
"She doesn't look like a doctor." The first marine said and then looked at her chest. "Or a man." The other two looked at her chest more closely.
Ella bared her teeth at them and then made a grab for the towel she had left on the stand. She wrapped it around her before she noticed that it was bright pink and that it barely covered her ass. Great.
"But we have to be sure, Jack." The second marine told him. "She could be a changeling or something. They could be trying to take over the ship."
Jack nodded in sudden understanding. The blond marine nodded but his eyes seemed to be too preoccupied with Ella. His eyes were calm but...strange...off. It wasn't appraisal she saw there, nor lust...just something. Ella felt like shuddering.
The intruder alert, Ella thought with disgust. She knew she should have stayed in Engineering. Ella gestured to the PADD she saw behind them. She would just have to explain to them...if they could even read. Jack started to hand it to her but the second man stopped him.
"NO! It could be a bomb or something!" The bald marine shouted.
Jack's hand recoiled. Ella rolled her eyes, put her hand on her hip. The blond looked amused at all of them.
"Or she could have made a phaser or something out of it. She wants you to give it back to her so she can incenerate us."
"You think so, George?" Jack asked.
"I do" George said solemly.
Ella stared at the two in disbelief. No one could be this dumb.
"In fact" George continued "She could have incinderary devices all over this place. These quarters could be a virtual land mine in wait, ready to blow us to smithereens."
~~You're a fucking moron~~ she signed to him. The blond marine suddenly smiled like he understood.
"Well, what should we do with her?" Jack asked nervously, eyeing the Ella like she had sprouted horns and a tail.
"Let's put her in the brig and go look for another intruder." George said happily.
"Okay." Jack quickly agreed.
The blond marine moved towards her and this time it was Ella that recoiled. The thought of him touching her skin appalled her. He caught her easily by the arm, though, linked it, and proceeded to escort her out of her quarters, the other two following with guns ready.
Led by a creep to the brig in a towel, Ella thought miserably. Could it get any worse?
'Of course' A strange new voice whispered in her head. It couldn't be, she thought. Ella looked over at the blond marine, who looked back at her with laughing eyes and a sneering smile.
She gaped at him.
'It can always get worse.'
tbc
"Ow!" yelped Karyn at the less than gentle touch of the obviously perturbed English woman trying to put the finishing touches on her hair and appearance. "What's eating you? Are you having second thoughts about coming with me or what?"
Julia Monsoon, Karyn's personal assistant of over fours years was in a rare snit today and actually flushed red in the cheeks. "Three bloody stairs! How the hell does a Starfleet Academy graduate and a champion for disabled officers and environmental awareness miss three bloody stairs?"
Had Karyn been speaking to anyone else, she might have bristled with anger, but this was Julia, and Julia often hid her concern behind a very thin smokescreen. "Disabled officers' rights, Jules, disabled officers' rights.Brohde claimed he handpicked his senior staff but then doesn't realize the Counseling Department, not to mention its offices are inaccessible to its Chief? I find it hard to believe that was an oversight on his part."
When Monsoon didn't reply, Karyn sighed, "Look, I know two broken ankles makes transferring me even harder, but Brooke assured me the stiffness wouldn't last and-"
Julia put the brush down and she straightened the stiff dress whites. "He's baiting you and you're letting him, aren't you? You're already rattled. That's what's eating me, Counselor. I agreed to rejoin you here because you swore to me you were back on your game. Falling down some bloody buggery stairs shows a lack of concentration...or something."
This time Karyn felt her ire beginning to rise. "A lack of WINGS perhaps." snapped Karyn. She wanted to tell her then about her meeting with Brohde, how she'd stood up (or sat up really tall at least) for herself, how she'd realized she'd moved on, but then she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror.
"Jesus, Jules, would you look at that?" She shook her head, not sure whether to laugh, scream or cry, and gestured to the reflection.
Julia stopped, her hand just about to straighten the clip in Karyn's auburn lockes. "What?"
Karyn met her reflection and watched her lips move. "I
was just thinking of the last time I wore dress whites. You and I were in my
quarters in front of the mirror, just like this, and you were fixing my hair.
Fifteen minutes
prior to beaming down to-"
"Stop it," commanded Julia with more force than Karyn could ever remember hearing from her, "Just stop it." Julia guided her so that they were facing each other. "You may be into exorcising past demons, but I'm not, Karyn. Now, you're going to go out there, help launch the damn boat and then meet your senior staff at what time?"
Karyn avoided Julia's probing gaze, trying to compose herself.
"At what time, Karyn?" Julia demanded, doing all but grasping her shoulders and shaking her. They'd gone over this. Karyn's unexpected personal 'launch' and subsequent trip to to sickbay had delayed her meeting with her fellow counselors until after they were underway. She'd just had enough time for her staff to report in before they all had to prepare for launch.
"The beginning of Beta shift," answered Karyn, adding,
"and I'm meeting Electra regarding moving into those bigger quarters after
that." she responded with a mock vigor she did not feel. "That'll
give me time to catch up with Electra and see how she's doing. She has some
past issues
that..."
Jules was scowling with her arms crossed, an expression Karyn didn't see until she was half-way to the door, heading for her hypospray of pain killers for her ankles. "Yes, Jules, as much as I hate to offend your precious sensibilities or contradict your vast experience as a counselor," she added with angry sarcasm, "sometimes the past comes back to bite us in the ass and we need to take pre-emptive measures to deal with it." With that she pressed the hypo to her neck, slammed it on the table and left the room.
To the closed gray doors, Julia replied, "I wish you would, Kar, I wish you would."
***
The whole Bridge crew was assembled around the Command pit, surrounded by the gaggle of reporters from the FedNet news. They broke into scattered applause when Bhrode came out of the office... a round of applause that withered, broke, and died under his glare and scowl.
"WELL?" he snapped at his Bridge Crew. "Stop gawking at my lovliness and GET TO WORK! We have a ship to launch!" he thundered to the equally formal looking crew. White uniforms flinched and scrambled to comply.
From her position beside the mission specialist's chair, Karyn didn't so much as flinch. Lost in her own thoughts, not to mention a medication induced fog created by not eating prior to taking it, (she was not rattled, dammit!), Karyn actually felt some of the tension leave her soldiers. For th e most part, she was surrounded by friendly familiar faces as well as some fresh eager ones. Taking a deep breath, Karyn forced her brain to capture the moment, for it would never come again.
Catching a glimpse of Brohde, Karyn immediately came to attention. *Did he just wink at me? Grozit, next time Brooke says eat before adminstering, I better eat. These hallucinations are a bitch.*
"Now hear this. Effective this stardate, 50308.16, I, John Q. Bhrode, Fleet Captain serial number SFC-05501319 do hereby take lawful command of the vessel USS GALAXY NCC-70637-A as directed by Starfleet Command. Attention to Orders. We will power this ship, drop our reporter Guests at McKinley Orbital Station, and then proceed on voyage to the Outlands. We are transporting the Imperial Klingon Delegation to their waiting rendezvous at the Empire's transit station there. Senior Staff, report on your readiness to the Bridge. Bhrode out."
At hearing this order, Karyn felt a sudden surge of pride and was surprised to feel tears forming at the corner of her eyes. A year ago if someone had told her she would be back aboard a starship, let alone the Galaxy - A, as its Chief Counselor and Second Officer, she would have given the special someone a one way ticket straight to the psychiatric ward. Now, despite all the crap she still would have to overcome, Karyn Dallas realized she didn't want to be anywhere else. Everything else was just going to have to work itself out.
As soon as he was closing the channel, the OPS board was lighting up.
"Ops. Go." reported Electra Reece, every word clearly a chore for her.
"Chief Engineer, standing by with hot engines, all lights green" reported K'Etylanna.
"RCS active, engines on line... we have conn of the ship. Awaiting your course." reported Lt. Jeremy Savoie, from the Flight Ops station.
"Sickbay reports power up, everything normal." reported Brooke over the Intercom.
Checking the master calendar, the department and education complex
bio readings to be sure everyone was where they were supposed to be, and the
sickbay interface, (rolling her eyes upon seeing her own name on the injured
list--*Smeggin' Brohde!*), Karyn was about to report in when she noticed a bit
of text scrolling across her screen which read, 'Sigmund Freud was a sexist
bastard!' Karyn smiled, but was careful to hide it from Brohde.
*Damn, what's in these meds?* She leaned over the LCARS arm of the station next
to her and checked one last time. This last little addition was not due to her
narcotic daze, but was really there, thanks to a little smartass tinkering from
her Assistant Chief. She replied in a low and hopefully even voice. "My
department is standing by."
The last to report in was Sciences. "Ready." was the terse report the Bridge received. It wasn't even clear who the report was from.
"Mister Reece, open a channel to Stardock" Bhrode ordered, tugging at the front of his tunic.
Karyn almost did a double take upon hearing Brohde address Electra as 'Mister.' Electra didn't miss a beat with old style address, a testament to her professionalism.
"Stardock Two, this is USS Galaxy. Seeking permission for power up to launch for Deep Space." Bhrode was doing this by the book, dimly aware of the five journalists who were on his bridge with cameras and recording wands.
"Galaxy. Permission Granted. Prpepare to take your conn. Good luck and happy sailing, StarDock 2 Control out."
"Captain Bhrode... can I say what an Honor it is, and ask you what you're feeling..." Began one of the reporters.
"No." snapped Bhrode, not even turning.
A little voice inside Karyn chimed in. *Listen to that, counselor, a preview of things to come. Brohde and feelings, don't you just pity the shrink who cleared him?*
Another voice replied. *You're assuming one actually did.*
"But. . .This ship... the history..." began the unlucky reporter again. They'd scored several decent interviews with the crew, but once Bhrode came into view, everyone semed to clam up. And the fans.. the public.. they want to know...
"No Comment. Ops, dockside let us go yet?" replied Bhrode with a smirk.
"Aye. Ship. On. Own. Power. Ready." Electra carefully enunciated.
Karyn shuddered, believing her senses were on scramble again because of the drugs. *Why is Electra talking funny?*
"Helm, release mooring beams. Tell Stardock to open the doors, this Big Dog is coming out to play. Stand ready to go ahead one eighth Impulse power on my mark, Mister Savoie."
"Aye Sir. Mooring released, standing by." Savoie reported.
Bhrode looked over to where Black was smiling for the cameras. Bhrode's frown deepened.
"Wave bye-bye to all your little admiral friends Mister Black, your ass is mine now. Oh, and tell Von Enrst and Wonder Boy I'm waiting on them." He barked.
Even though the comment was addressed to one person, it felt as though it was meant for the entire crew. It was time to wave goodbye to the past. Lee would not be going with them this time, and for a moment, fear gripped her. *We're not in Kansas anymore...*
Note: all communication, unless other wise noted between Adrian and Zerhi is in El-Aurian.?]
The El-Aurian Admiral came aboard the ship along with the rest of the big brass from headquarters to wish the ship a fond farewell on its? first mission. She was impressed by the amalgamation of technology used to create the Galaxy, and for a split second, whished she was on her own ship navigating the asteroid belt for kicks.
Reporters were everywhere taking pictures of anything they could see. However, all failed to get a picture of the Sonia as he walked passed them unabated no one. She appeared to be a tall, green-eyed goddess conjured from the depths of some long-forgotten mythology and yet, no flashes came her way. It was all the same, because she wasn?t there for publicity, she was there to see the Galaxy, as well as her little brother. The El-Aurian female left much of the big brass talk amongst themselves, many of whom with big guts, while she patiently paced, taking in detail. Her comfortable pace slowed and finally halted as she came across a LACARS and began to speak.
?Computer is a Lieutenant Adrian An?quinsos aboard.?
=?Affirmative, Lieutenant An?quinsos arrived three hours ago.?=
[?Good, I can catch up with him later, and see my nephew.?] She said to her self in her native language. She sighed as she proceeded into the Red Dwarf lounge. ?The perks of being an Admiral I guess,? the 43 century-old woman mused entering the room.
?Admiral An?quinsos,? Fleet Admiral Nakamura said approaching her ?A pleasure to see you once again, I?m glad you could make it.?
?The same Admiral, I?d never miss such an occasion as this.?
He leaned in closer. ?I hear you?re up for a promotion.?
She grinned and replied. ?I?ve heard the same rumor myself. And after thirteen yeas of being your ?average? Admiral, the bigger boys upstairs might just be thinking of giving little me a promotion.?
?Admiral An?quinsos, since the Battle at Wolf 359, and throughout the Dominion War, average is a extremely poor choice of words to describe you.? He commented with a grin. ?However, if it?s all the same, I believe you deserve it.?
?Why thank you sir.?
With a nod and a smile, he made his way to where the Federation President was located. The dark-haired naiad took a seat in the background and watched the events unfold before her with great interest. One thing she took great notice were the reactions of Price, relaxed, cheerful, and then there was Hoth. There was something in his voice she detested. He was rude, a touch arrogant, and held a foreboding presence before that she distasteful. Her last view before leaving the room was that of subtle whispering between Doctor Brahms and Admiral Price. As they spoke, Price kept a constant, mindful watch on Hoth.
?He?s finally asleep.? He whispered, creeping silently the couch from where she watched him in amusement. The El-Aurian male had another hour and a half before had to report to duty.
?How did you get our sugar-riddled son to sleep again??
?I cast Power Word, Sleep, and poof, his eyes closed, and he actually lay still.? He grinned at Zerhi?s inquisitive grin and eyebrow raised. ?I read him another tale about the mighty Ezmion.?
?Ah, so how long before he dozed off??
?At the finale.? He sat down beside his wife and gently kissed her.
?I?m glad Sonia saw us and her little nephew before she left. She seemed a little preoccupied though.?
?If there?s one thing I can say about my sister, it?s that she?s always preoccupied with something!? He declared. ?Still, it was great to see her.? He caressed her face. ?I?m not on duty for a little time still. I was thinking about some quality time for-?
?Daddy,? A child?s voice called out.
?You spoke to soon!?
?In here Maxim.?
From the bedroom, a figure entering the main room and came to the couch. He had on a t-shirt and a pair of black pajama bottoms. Maxim reached his hands out to Adrian, whom scooped him up into his arms, and laid him in his lap. The sandy-blonde haired youth looked up at him with cornflower-blue eyes and smiled. He began to yawn, shifting in his father?s arms to snuggle up, and finally laid still as he fell asleep. Zerhi chuckled very lightly and looked over at her husband who had a proud look on his face.
?He never ceases to amaze me!? He declared in a soft whisper.
OOC: Wrap up your Prequel posts now, people. We're 14 days behind schedule, and John Q Bhrode is yelling at Joe and I. Here's the Much Delayed 'Mission One Kickoff' Consider it 'Brawl Day plus two' Feel free to sieze on your PC's BRIEF appreaeance here, for some reaction posts...Have fun! -Liam
* * * * *
Stardock Two's Red Dwarf Lounge had seen Brass before. Every time a new ship was commissioned, there was the token 'Gold Braid' and a 'Council Talking Head' to mouth the platitudes,make the speech, break the bottle and send her on her way.
But, The Red Dwarf had never seen THIS much Brass in one place before. Over there, the Federation President and Fleet Admiral Nakamura were making small talk, surrounded by clusters of bodyguards. With them were Princess Dev'oRah of the Klingon Empire and Thought Admiral Koloth of the Klingon Deep Space Fleet.
To one side, the Grand Nagus of Ferrengal tried to flog some 'almost new' Replimat parts to the Chief of ReSupply for Starfleet. Council members thronged the room in ceremonial gard from a hundred different species. Diplomats and Aliens and Fleet Brass all rubbed shoulders in the crowded room. Various members of the press walked around with holocameras, lights, or recorders, grabbing faces for their views on a myriad of topics. But mostly on one topic.
This launch.
In front of the Big Mars View window, two figures stood alone, marked in their isolation.
Look closer. . .
"No Jurgen, I am not happy. I had no idea that you were even considering the refit for Galaxy, let alone that Jebediah Quick's ideas would be implemented over mine. And the fact you're rushing so fast? None of those... weapons... have been tested yet. Not properly. Jeb's idea of a test is to cross his fingers and close his eyes. I specifically told Admiral Price..." Dr. Leah Brahms snapped.
"Bobby Price is in Fleet Operations. Quick's designs passed New Weapons Review Board muster, and therefore fall into Tactical. Me. I classified the project, because of the problems with the Enterprise-E replacement. Even Quick didn't know we were actually DOING anything with his 'hypothetical ideas.' Jean Luc and his boys have enough troubles with that ship, without leaving the fleet lacking a Flagship. We need Galaxy and we need her now." Admiral Jurgen Hoth mused.
"But, I should have been consulted...I designed that class..." Leah pressed.
"My decision. End of story. Where is Quick?" Hoth snapped, eyes searching the cavernous room again.
Leah Brahms flushed a becoming pink.
"Jeb has never been a stickler for 'chronographic slavery' as he calls it, let alone social gatherings. He most likely forgot about this party, or got wrapped up in something and would be hard pressed to give you the date today, let alone remember where he was supposed to be." she giggled.
"He's a lunatic. He actualy told us that the Turbolift ceilings HAVE to be mirrored to make then 'go faster.' DESPITE the fact that 9218234 computer simulations show that theory to be hogwash." Hoth snorted.
"He's a genius...with all its connotations. He always did like mirrored ceilings. . ." breathed Brahms, lost in some reverie.
"He'd better be aboard that ship in the next hour. If I know John Bhrode, he won't come back for him." Hoth mused.
Behind him, a chime sounded.
==Attention. First boarding call for USS Galaxy. All passengers and crew please report to Lounge Three, Main Gangway, Deck 244== The Stardock computer sounded out.
Cheers and shouts came from the assembled crowd. The party was officially under way. Some people began to drift out, clearly heading for the sole occupant of SD-2's Hangar bay.
Leah Brahms turned to the third figure, who had come up to her side silently. She smiled her gentle smile. . .
"I guess it's silly of me to be so excited, lord knows I've done this before. . . it's always exciting isn't it though?" she asked, brightly, of him.
The figure simply reached out and held her hand in silent agreement, gazing out at the stars visible over the horizon of the Red Planet below.
"Just as silly to be upset at being left out this time around. The Galaxy class is a solid design.. it's no PROMETHEUS. . . but it'll do..." then, sensing his presence was superflious, Jurgen Hoth slipped into the crowd, looking no doubt for deals to be made.
"Do you ... I mean...are you wishing you could. . ." She asked, with a downwards glance.
"No worries, Mate. They've got a band, fancy a dance?" replied Admiral R.E.L.Price, with a fond look at the stars before using his hoverchair to spin Leah and drag her back into the thick of the party.
It wasn't everyday a flagship launched.
Outside, the starlight fell on the ancient red planet of Mars. Named after the Terran God of War. Fitting, that touch.
* * * * * * * * * *
John Bhrode stomped out of his Ready Room. He was wearing his Class A Dress White Uniform. The Sky Blue Medal of Valour ribbon at his neck gave him a peaceful, dreamy quality. Until you hit his scowling, flushed red face.
The whole Bridge crew was assembled around the Command pit, surrounded by the gaggle of reporters from the FedNet news. They broke into scattered applause when Bhrode came out of the office... a round of applause that withered, broke, and died under his glare and scowl.
"WELL?" he snapped at his Bridge Crew. "Stop gawking at my lovliness and GET TO WORK! We have a ship to launch!" he thundered to the equally formal looking crew. White uniforms flinched and scrambled to comply.
Bhrode settled in the Command Chair with a grunt. The 2 XO's seats flanking his were empty, but Commander Karyn Dallas' Hover Chair was next to the Mission Specialist slot to his left, and Lt. Donovan Black was in the Specialist station to his right, and this the five spots in the Command Pit were accounted for. Every person was at 'attention' at their respective stations.
Bhrode grunted his satisfaction, and slipped Karyn Dallas a surprising wink, before he reached for the Ships' Intercom.
"Now hear this. Effective this stardate, 50308.16, I, John Q. Bhrode, Fleet Captain serial number SFC-05501319 do hereby take lawful command of the vessel USS GALAXY NCC-70637-A as directed by Starfleet Command. Attention to Orders. We will power this ship, drop our reporter Guests at McKinley Orbital Station, and then proceed on voyage to the Outlands. We are transporting the Imperial Klingon Delegation to their waiting rendevous at the Empire's transit station there. Senior Staff, report on your readiness to the Bridge. Bhrode out."
As soon as he was closing the channel, the OPS board was lighting up.
"Ops. Go." reported Electra Reece, every word clearly a chore for her.
"Chief Engineer, standing by with hot engines, all lights green" reported K'Etylanna.
"RCS active, engines on line... we have conn of the ship. Awaiting your course." reported Lt. Jeremy Savoie, from the Flight Ops station.
"Sickbay reports power up, everything normal." reported Brooke over the Intercom.
Karyn Dallas leaned over the LCARS arm of the station next to her and checked one last report there before saying in a low voice. "My Department is standing by."
From behind Bhrode, Tim O'Connell, the CTO sang out "Tac Arch reports Level One Diagnostic pass. Commander Corgan reports Security is "go" and Marines report 'locked and loaded' status sir. Tactical is online."
"Intelligence is now online with the main computer core. Sending briefing on the 'Outlands' to your screen. . . Tactical assessment going to the arch ...mark." Reported Black.
"I am, of course ready Captain." cut in the Kelvan Liasion Officer.
"Frikkign great. . . I was -so- worried. . ." Muttered Bhrode, sticking a finger in the neckline of his uniform.
The last to report in was Sciences. "Ready." was the terse report the Bridge received. It wasn't even clear who the report was from.
"Mister Reece, open a channel to Stardock" Bhrode ordered, tugging at the front of his tunic.
"Stardock Two, this is USS Galaxy. Seeking permission for power up to launch for Deep Space." Bhrode was doing this by the book, dimly aware of the five journalists who were on his bridge with cameras and recording wands.
"Galaxy. Permission Granted. Prpepare to take your conn. Good luck and happy sailing, StarDock 2 Control out."
"Captain Bhrode... can I say what an Honor it is, and ask you what you're feeling..." Began one of the reporters.
"No." snapped Bhrode, not even turning.
"But. . .This ship... the history..." began the unlucky reporter again. They'd scored several decent interviews with the crew, but once Bhrode came into view, everyone semed to clam up.And the fans.. the public.. they want to know...
"No Comment. Ops, dockside let us go yet?" replied Bhrode with a smirk.
"Aye. Ship. On. Own. Power. Ready." Electra carefully enunciated.
"Helm, release mooring beams. Tell Stardock to open the doors, this Big Dog is coming out to play. Stand ready to go ahead one eighth Impulse power on my mark, Mister Savoie."
"Aye Sir. Mooring released, standing by." Savoie reported.
Bhrode looked over to where Black was smiling for the cameras. Bhrode's frown deepened.
"Wave bye-bye to all your little admiral friends Mister Black, your ass is mine now. Oh, and tell Von Enrst and Wonder Boy I'm waiting on them." He barked.
* * * * * * * * * *
"GO GO GO" yelled Lysander to the EVA suited group. The Marine and the Boatswain were the first out, followed closely by their 'guest' and Von Enrst. Lysander paused in the Airlock hatch and considered those long smeggin' legs , scissoring in the null-gravity before him for a moment. He reflected briefly that they were LONGassed legs for such a runty woman.
Then, with a sigh, he launched himself out into space.
The group of five made their way across the hull.
"You know, I think I rather sounded like Sanchez back there. The last time I had to do this, she was yelling at Jii and then..." Lysa started nattering.
"You already told us." Rebecca's flat voice cut in, as cold as the space around them.
"Oh, well then, how about the cadet who puked in her EVA suits' helmet?" Lys muttered, mostly to himself. Both he and Rebecca missed the looks the other three were giving each other behind their backs.
They met the reporter's pinnace at the very bow of the ship, near the ten forward portals.
"Silly Fleetie tradition. And a waste of Champagne." sniffed Betty to the Chief.
"No sillier than never leaving a comrade behind. . ." muttered the Chief back, over the NCO channel.
"Black says Bridge orders 'go'" Rebecca relayed in her flat and unemotionless voice.
The reporters pinnace lit up their Kleig lights, throwing the bow into sharp relief.
Samantha Widdlestein (aged 10) had won the drawing in Primary Class two (Mister Grant's Homeroom) and had cradeled the bottle of champagne the whole way. She raised it, and with a flip, sent it cartwheeling through the weightless void, in majestic slow-motion.
As it impacted the bow of the ship, the ship's running lights blinked on, like a christmas tree coming to life.
"I dub thee USS Galaxy. Go forth and be strong." her sing song voice was picked up and carried to the FederationNews wirenet, where no doubt billions of people across the Federation were watching their first glimpse of the 'new' flagship.
In a moment, the five were swamped by reporters. Betty and the Chief were left alone. Samantha quickly displayed the fact that behind shouting "Hi Mummy! Hi Arel! Look! " to the universe at large, she wasn't going to have any pithy quotes.
Rebecca merely stared at anyone impertinant enough to ask her anything, with her cold dead brown eyes, until they gave up in frustration.
Which left Lys to answer the reporters.
"What vintage was that, was it the same year as the Enterprise-B was christened with?" shouted one.
"Smeg no, that's smegging unlucky..errr.. you're going to edit this..right...?" Lys asked.
"What about the changes Commander?"
"Errr.. Classified and what-not you know. Have to ask the Captain." Lys floundered, dimly aware that Rebecca was moving the others back to the airlock.
"What about Dr. Quick? The Inventor of Whakky-Elasto-Dough? It's rumoured that he had a hand in .."
"No comment." Lys answered.
"Captain Bhrode? What does the 'Q" stand for?"
"Captain Elethian? Anyone ask him his opinions?"
"Tell us about the ship?"
"The Romulans..."
"The Tholians?" "Do you think. . . " "What about the..." "Tell us..."
"No comment no comment no comment.." Lys was babbling, as he floundered for the airlock. the 'still' of space around him was vibrating with the distinct sensation of the ship powering up under his magnetic boots.
The the voice hit him over his helmet radio.
"Lysandah, whad would yer mummah say about yer job? Anyone yah wanna say 'Hi' to?" the distinct tones of Kit Jordan asked him.
"Look, my mother smegging well died, and bloody useless journalists helped kill her. You dont know how your behaviour scared me as a kid. Since my partner won't, I'd like to say hi to -her- mother..."Hi Holli!"" Lysander shouted. "Now , you have your 'human interest angle' so bloody well smeg off. You lot hounded me as a child, and I'm smegged if I let you...errrr..."
Lysander stared at the airlock door in confusion. He tried the access code again. Still nothing.
No way would the Smeggin' Princess lock him out of the ship... right?
Right?
* * * * * *
"Because he can use another lock. There are 209 personnel airlocks on the ship, one every 50 meters on this hull." Rebecca shrugged the question off, heading for the suit changing room.
"Are you sure it's because you don't want to change out of your suit in front of him?" asked the Chief, in a motherly voice she'd spent years developing. Too bad she'd never encountered the Ice Queen before.
"Positive. I must have locked it by accident." Rebecca fired over her shoulder.
Betty and The Chief exchanged significant glances.
"That was fun. We should do that every time we launch the boat. Arel says that ritual is nothing more than..." Sam added.
"Hush honey, one problem at a time. And it's a 'ship' and not a boat." The Chief said.
* * * * * * * * * *
The crowd in the Red Dwarf was clustered around the Main Docks viewport. As the dark,sleek form slid into view from above, there wasa collective intake of breath. Then the Ventral lights kicked on, and when the name and registry were lit up for everyone to see, they cheered and toasted her. Having given up on any usable footage from the live feeds on the ship, the News Net agents were running around for 'man on the spot' footage to fill the gaps.
"Leah! over here! She's beautiful!"
"Thank you, I'm surprised at the tri-nacelles though..."
"Dr Brahms! Have you had a chance to review the new ship specs? how closely did your team..."
"Dr. Jebediah Quick has my confidence in his qualifications. He did, after all, end up with a higher GPA than even myself in school!" she smiled, her charm defusing the question.
"About the claims he's missing, kidnapped by Federation..."
"Starfleet does not kidnap or shanghai people. Dr Quick's current location is classified, to prevent Anti-Federation terrorists from harming him." Admiral Jurgen Hoth cut in on the question.
"Admiral Price! Do you wish you were on her bridge now?"
"Bonzer question mate. I'd love to be, she's a fine ship, always has been. But, I'm happy that I've got that lady out of my system. You can only love one lady at a time, mate.Or else you get your goolies on the barbie." Price replied, causing Dr. Brahms to blush more and the crowd to laugh.
"But you don't miss the rigors of command?"
"Miss the rigors? no. Too many nightmares about commanding in your skivvies. The people? Yes. I miss all the friends I made, and the..."
"Next Question." Hoth interrupted again.
"Admiral Hoth, there's been talk about the weapons systems on Galaxy..."
"We're not discussing weapons on a day of peace." Hoth cut in, with warning glares to the rest of the Admiralty board.
"But, you dont feel that an improved Galaxy Class, will destabilize an already sensitive Alpha Quadrant? That it will be seen as a provocation, a challenge by enemies? Especially the Romulans? It's more of a warship now, than an Explorer." The reporter pressed on.
Hoth's eyes looked into the Cameras, very different from those of Price and Brahms before.
"Anyone dumb enough to want to see that ship in full action, is more than welcome to ask for it. An old Terran politician once said 'Walk softly but carry a big stick.' The Galaxy Class refits are a damn big stick, they're joining the SOVEREIGN and PROMETHEUS damn big sticks. And we're not afraid to use those damn big sticks either. Now, don't you people want some shots of her?" And Hoth indicated the majestic, slow-moving form of the USS GALAXY in the viewports, as she cleared the hanger and began to slip into a banking turn.
"He make you nervous Bobby? I get this bad feeling. . ." Dr Leah Brahms whispered into Price's ear.
"No worries." Price replied, but his eyes never left Admiral Jurgen Hoth.
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