USS
Galaxy:The Next Generation Sim Log Stardate: 50210.22 - 50210.28 |
It was a dark and stormy night . . . . .
A frigid trail of rainwater snaked its way down Sir Justando’s exposed skin,tracing the contours of his face like loving fingers of eerie cold. Six hours of devilish winds and unrelenting showers had transformed the once pristine knight into a miserable sodden mess. His riding leathers, gaily dyed in the beloved yellow and blue of his noble house, were now faded into waterlogged rags. The silver plate armor, whose sturdy joints and angles served to ward off the mightiest blows, was now poor protection against the rain’s awesome onslaught. The freezing drops ran in tiny rivulets finding every gap and chink in the armor and soaking the poor warrior to the bone.
“By the Sacred North Star!” swore Sir Justando wearily, “The Weather Witch has arrayed all her unholy powers against us! How are we to find our way in this accursed rain!?!”
“Have faith dear knight.” Came a calm soothing voice from off to the warrior’s left. “We march under the blessed protection of the goddess Yuna, and we shall not falter.” The confident words of T’al Feendab, the young Cleric of Yuna did little to allay the Knights frustrations. Looking back over his armored shoulder he eyed the party wearily.
There was almost twelve of them in all. An assembled War Party commissioned by the High Queen of Malkathia to strike a pre-emptive blow against the Dark Forces of Dal Morda. . .the pit-born Weather Witch.
Sir Justando’s companions were all but invisible in the darkness, and only the occasional flicker of lightning illuminated their pale water-soaked faces. “Come my good comrades!” he cried against the shrieking wind. “The fortress of Dal Morda is not two leagues hence. We should prepare to assault ere break of day!”
In the half-light, Sir Justando could make out the weary nods of those closest to him. In the darkness behind however there was the faint muttering of discontent. The long journey from Malkathia had been fraught with peril and not all agreed to the knight’s leadership.
Still. . . .~~~At least they march onwards.~~~ the knight reassured himself. ~~~Mayhap they chafe under my guidance, but they’ve come too far to let the Witch win now.~~~
And march they did. . . .
Over the crumbling rock-strewn plains of Gol Jakara and through the murky forests depths of J’Hai. Even when the rabid Man-Pigs of the Forbidden Caves had surprised them a fortnight ago, the band of warriors had pulled together and trudged onwards. Dal Morda had cost them too much to do otherwise.
Turning his head back into the wind, Sir Justando allowed the open rain to spatter mercilessly off his grizzled features. ~~~Two more leagues~~~ he thought to himself. ~~~Two more leagues and we take the fight to that Hellish-Sorceress herself. Two more leagues until justice!!~~~
Unfortunately for the brave knight and his weary companions, that was two leagues that they would never make.
The Witch Dal Morda had many spies upon the Gol Jakarran Plains, and she was not one to wait idly by whilst a war party made its merry way to her very doorstep.
No no no. . . . much better to carry the fight to the intruders themselves and wreak havoc from afar. And within
The first hints of the ambush came only when the whistling arrows of a dozen bows were already raining down upon Justando and his allies. It was only when the screams of the wounded rose to compete with the howling of the night winds did the knight realize the trap he had led his comrades into.
It was only when to his left poor tiny Myrum Muddenkin the Halfling Magic-User pitched forward with an arrow in her breast, and when faithful Boaz Silvermane the golden-haired Bard received a similar wound in his meaty shoulder did the true horror hit home.
Justando gulped. . . he had been fond of the cheerful little halfling girl. More than fond, some whispered.
“AMBUSH!! We are ambushed!!” the knight cried already too late. “ To arm my comrades to arms!”
Faintly, in the shroud of the rain, he could make out the shadowy images of Dal Mordas evil orcish minions. Never far from her service, the brutish Orcs of R’kar were as skilled with the bow as they were utterly merciless.
“To Arms, for the gods sakes to arms!!” the knight repeated desperatelystruggling to free his own silver sword from its sheath as the arrows continued to rain down. “For the love of your lands and the good Queen Malkathia to arms and stand to!”
His blade now free, and singing, brave Sir Justando charged forward oblivious of the deadly hail around him, hefting the mighty war-blade above his head, and with a desperate oath on his lips.
“The devils take you foul. . . .URK!!!!!” With a half choked gasp of surprise, the brave Sir Justando cut off his cry as a sizzling Orcish bolt flew across the rain swept field, and plunged home deep within his heart.
For an unbelieving moment the knight looked down at the black feathered arrow as it quivered in his chest, pulsing slightly with each dying heartbeat.
The silver war blade clattered forlornly to the ground and the knight collapsed to his knees. He had Failed. . . . . He was dying.
Casting his eyes skyward, and with a desperate cry of the vanquished he cried out to the heavens:
“ Damn Smegger!!! This cant be. . . . . . .I have a +2 to my saving throws vs. missile weapons!"
************************
“You do?” Dr. Jebediah Quick popped his frazzle-haired head up from behind the tiny cardboard Dungeon Master’s Screen. “Since when?”
An irate Lysander van der puls Hawklsey leaned back in his plush lounge chair and gestured angrily. “Since we ran into that smegging party of Bugbears in the forest and Justando picked up the Scarab of Protection +2.”
“Really?” Quick’s eyes darted down, and the faint sound of him rifling trough a stack of papers could be heard from behind the little screen. “Why isn’t it on your character sheet?”
“Well. . . “ the Commander opened his mouth to explain, but was quickly interrupted by a chorus of groans from the rest of the assembled players.
“Give it up Commander we’ll resurrect you at the next town.”
Sir Justando and his hardy band of questing warriors were none other than the Officers and crew of the USS Galaxy A, the newly refit Starship on its maiden shakedown cruise 12 weeks out from Earth.
The oblong Briefing room table where the officers usually discussed matters of great tactical importance had been transformed into a Role Players Dream.. . .half covered with empty Pizza Boxes, Two Liters of Soda Pop, and a veritable treasure trove of little plastic multicolored Dice.
The enigmatic Dr. Jebediah Quick, taking on the role of Dungeon Master, occupied the head of the table protected by his little cardboard screen and making mysterious clattering dice rolls behind its confines.
“Look just deal with it Lysander,” James Lionel Corgan urged from across the table, “You screwed your saving throw. . .admit it.”
The impatient Security Chief was quite tired of hearing Lys blather on about. .. ‘Sir Justando-this. . .and Sir Juustando-that. It was about time the loud mouthed Paladin bit the big one.
Besides, James own character. . .the Bard, Boaz Silvermane had taken a hitfor 6 points of damage himself, and nobody herd James bitching.
“ It’s COMMANDER Lysander to you.” Lysander hissed back across the table.“Or SIR JUSTANDO you insubordinate smegger!”
“PIPE DOWN Sir Talks-a-lot!!” came the booming order form the other end ofthe table. The grizzled face of Starfleet Captain John Q Brhode sat rigidlyin his throne of power his fist clenched tightly about a pristine 12-sided dice, “I’m trying to cast a Flipping Spell hear and my GNOME cant hear himself think!!!”
If anyone had notions to giggle over Brhode running a Gnome Illusionist as acharacter, the smart comments died on their lips with one look at his deadlyserious expression. Damnit but NOBODY makes fun of Yob-Yob the Magnificent!!! NOBODY!!!!
“Quite right Captain,” Quick agreed, “Justando we’ll get back to resurrecting you later. . . . but now the Orcs of R’kar are pressing their advantage. . .What spell Captain?”
“What spell!??!! Damn Phantasmal-effing-Killer you spook-haired hippie beer-sop!!!” Brhode roared his knuckled turning white around his dice. . .”Gonna teach them sonsabitches-orcs they cant mess with Yob-Yob the Magnificent!!!”
“Language language.” Quick warned as Brhode made his casting roll. . . .
“.and a three. . . .sorry, but the crash of the lightning seems to have distracted Yob-Yob and the spell fizzles. . next?”
Quick turned to consider the tiny red-headed officer sitting a few seats down from Corgan, while Brhode muttered under his breath about ‘effing-stupid dice.’
Rebecca von Ernst squirmed a bit in her chair, adjusting the thick phone-book underneath her bottom. Normally content to slouch back in her seat during staff meetings, she found that for tonight’s affair she needed to be able to reach the dice (and pizza before those noodle-heads Savoie and Black ate it all)
Glaring at the Flight Officer and Intelligence Chief across the table and the tiny piles of pizza crusts before them, Rebecca turned back to Quick. “I. . . got shot too didn’t I?” she asked. “I. . I.. .still don’t even understand what I’m supposed to do.”
“Yes, yes, but you only suffered 4 points of damage,” Quick explained, You’re the other spellcaster in the party. . . and since Yob-Yob. . . ah. . . flubbed his casting, you need to provide some cover for the others.”
Rebecca looked doubtful, and glanced down at her scribbled character sheet for the umpteenth time. . .”Well okay. . “ she allowed, “But I still don’t know why ya’ll insisted on me playing a Halfling. . . .what the noodles is a ‘Halfling’ anyways?”
Lysnader and Corgan glanced at each other suppressing grins. Normally the two hated each others guts, but tonight the suggestion had been their idea. It had also been their idea for Selanna to play an Elf, but the Vulcan didn’t seem to appreciate the humor of it all.
Further down the table the ever-capable Counselor Dallas, aka T’al Cleric of Yuna was busily casting healing spells on a wounded Fighter. (Victor Kreighoff) The Security officer's Elven Ranger had taken an arrow in the leg almost right at the start of the battle.
“There there, good Lythaniel Moonbeam.” Karyn soothed, “Ye shall live to see your forest home again someday.”
As Kreighoff nodded his thanks, back at the head of the table Rebecca was slumped angrily in her chair, her arms crossed furiously across her chest. (Someone had whispered to her what a Halfling was)
~~~Short jokes!!~~~ she fumed. ~~~How original!!!~~~
***********************
B ack on the rain-sodden plains of Gol Jkarra, the Orcs of the Witch Dal Morda were pressing their advantage. Amazingly the wounded Halfling Sorceress, Myrum Muddenkin struggled to her tiny feet, wincing from the arrow lodged in her torso. Every breath came with a wet bubbling rasp, but there was still magic coursing in her veins, and if it was the last thing she did she would show them!!!!
Selecting her most powerful spell from memory, Myrum rolled back her eyes and allowed the arcane chanting flow off her tongue like so much watery music. . . .Power from another dimension pulsed behind her eyes craving release. With a grim look of hatred fixed upon her young features she extended her glowing features. . . .sending an arcing blast of magical energies flying through the air to strike. . . . . . .
*******************
“The Fireball strikes the dead body of good Sir Justando squarely totally incinerating his remains.” Dr. Quick remarked calmly, “Unfortunately this will negate any hope of resurrecting him later.”
“Holy Smegging Birthday Cakes!!!!” Lysander almost came out of his seat. “You totally just nuked my dead body!!!”
“Serves you right.” Rebecca replied sticking out her tongue. “Halfling-indeed”
“Unfortunately the back-blast also kills the Boaz Silvermane the Bard, and badly burns Kell e’ Jomsun, our Multi-classed Half Elven Half Dwarvish Half Human Fighter/Magic-User/Thief/Cleric/Barbarian/Monk. Take 15 points of damage Lieutenant Commander K'Etylanna.”
While the grumbling Engineer scribble down the damage on her multi-talented character, the now-dead Bard Corgan complained “Hey! What was that for?”
Rebecca stuck her tongue out at him too. “You probably knew about this halfling bit too James.” She huffed.
“EXCUSE ME!!” The voice from the end of the table thundered. “JOHN Q BRHODE WANTS TO TRY TO CAST AGAIN!!!”
“John Q is going to have to wait.” Quick replied smoothly turning to the patiently waiting Lieutenants Curtis Geluf and Cutter Karanin. “What are the two Dwarves doing?”
***************
With a dual War-Cry, the Dwarf-Twins of Clan Rosksplitter, Billy and Bobby BadAxe fell upon the charging Orcs with their Battle Axes swinging. The Elder BadAxe brother (Geluf) neatly cleaved an orcish skull with a single blow while his sibling (Cutter) dispatched his foe by sweeping the legs out from under him.
“For The Mines of BadAxe!!!” cried Bobby.
“For the Beard of our Fathers!!!” cried Billy.
************
“For the love of Pete.” Moaned Dr. Vladimir Malgin. “Cant you two be coming up with something original. You have been yelling same two stupid oaths through whole game you have!!”
The Human and the Funian merely looked at each other. They had rather liked the BadAxe Brothers.
“Be neverminding and be watching what I am rolling dice now.” Malgin grumped. “My Cleric is Healing wounded but only if gold bribe is forthcoming, otherwise many bleedings to death they will be occuring.”
“Pst. . . Bec. . . .I always wondered where he got his bedside manner from.” Lexa whispered to the still sulking Rebecca.
Next in line came the actions of Adrian An'quinsos the Half Elven Ranger, and the unfortunate wounding of the party’s resident Alchemist Ella Grey.
The Silent Engineer let her face sink as the bubbly proprietor of potions suffered a deadly gash to the arm.
Likewise the Death of the loathsome sneaky 6th Level Assassin Blake Blackheart played by the insufferable Legate Curran was a unfortunate blow. (Although many were secretly relieved that he might stop scoffing at the ‘pathetic weakness’ of the other characters.)
Was this the end?
Were the companions of the now toasted Sir Justando doomed to failure?
Would the Dark Witch Dab Morda prevail?
Was fair Malkethia doomed to destruction?
>>>>BLEEEP!!!<<<<
The sharp Chirrup of the overhead Comm system interrupted whatever was going to happen next, as the soft voice of the Junior Bridge Watch drifted across the table.
=/= LT SMITH TO CAPTAIN BHRODE. =/=
Grumbling to himself, Yob-Yob tapped him Communicator and replied, “Brhode here Lieutenant. This better be Damn good Sailor!! I don’t want to be disturbed for every little spec of space dust that drifts across our path!!”
=/=AYE SIR. . .UH . . .NO SIR. . . .ITS NOT THAT. WE PICKED UP SOME SORT OF TRANSMISSON ON LONG RANGE SCANS WE THOUGHT YOU SHOULD HAVE A LOOK AT. SCIENCE THINKS IT MAY BE SOME KIND OF CODED BEACON =/=
“Coded?” Brhode considered for a brief moment before gently tucking Yob-yob into a special black folder. “Copy Bridge, We’ll be right out.”
Turning back to the group before him, “Play times over kiddos. Senior Staff on the Bridge in two minutes, and Savoie? Wipe that Damn Pizza Sauce off your lips!”
“Hey what about us!?!” piped up the high pitched voice of one Leo Streely. “Me and my best buddy Raven didn’t get to do anything together. . . .er . .. not that we do things TOGETHER, mind you I meant in the game we want to swing our quarter-staffs. . . er. . .weapons at the orcs and such. Other wise we're just standing here, staffs in our hands..."
“Later,” Quick promised, “We’ll pick up with the actions of Leo the Wonder Thief, and Raven’s Silent Barbarian when we get back.”
As the party broke up, only Lysander was left sitting by himself remarking to the empty air. . . . .”Why can't we just play smegging Poker like they do on the Enterprise?”
=/=
CAPTAIN’S LOG, STARDATE 50311.8 STARSHIP USS Galaxy CAPTAIN JOHN Q BRHODE COMMANDING.
THE Galaxy NEWLY REDESIGNED IN ALL ITS BUTT-KICKING GLORY IS TWELVE WEEKS OUT FROM EARTH ON ITS INITIAL SHAKEDOWN CRUISE. THE SCIENCE WEENIES BACK AT UTOPIA PLANATIA WANTED TO KEEP HER WITHIN HALF A LIGHT-YEARS RANGE, BUT I HAVE TAKEN IT UPON MYSELF TO ‘SHOW THE FLAG’ SO TO SPEAK AND TAKE A LITTLE TOUR OF THE QUADRANT.
IF THIS STARSHIP IS GOING TO BE THE BIGGEST BULLY ON THE BLOCK THEN BY GOD WE’D BETTER PATROL THE BLOCK!
GALAXY IS CURRENTLY PASSING THROUGH A REGION OF SPACE ADJOINING THE JUNCTIONS OF SEVERAL ENEMY EMPIRES, THE KLINGONS, BREEN, AND THOLIANS ARE WITHIN 500 LIGHT-YEARS, SO THIS SHOULD BE THE PERFECT SPOT TO IMPRESS AS MANY PEOPLE AS POSSIBLE.
TENSIONS WITH THE KLINGONS REMAIN HIGH FOLLOWING THE LANJEP INCIDENT A YEAR AGO, AND THE MORE RECENT SHOWDOWN OVER THE CLONED ‘PRINCESS OF KAHLESS’ BARELY A WEEK AGO. INTELLIGENCE INDICATES THOSE THREE VORCHA CLASS CRUISERS MAY STILLL BE SHADOWING US FROM THE OTHER SIDE OF THE BORDER.
SOMETHING TO KEEP IN MIND.
FORTUNATELY THE ODD SYSTEM-WIDE DAMAGE CAUSED BY THE SO-CALLED QUICK-VIRUS HAS BEEN ALL BUT ELIMINATED. ABOUT TIME THOSE PIGEON TOED IDIOTS IN ENGINEERING GOT THEIR HEADS ON STRAIGHT! IF NOT I’LL STRAIGHTEN THEIR NECK S FOR THEM. . . THE HARD WAY.
DR. QUICK REMAINS ABOARD MUCH TO MY CONSTERNATION, BUT MY ADVISORS TELL ME THAT HE KNOWS TOO MUCH ABOUT THIS SHIP TO IDLY SHIP HIM OFF TO BREEN FOR NOGOOD REASON.
(Note to self—transfer three crewmen at random to Breen Embassy this week. .. just for the hell of it)
MOST RECENTLY, OUR LONG RANGE TRANSMISSION HAVE PICKED UP AN UNUSUAL SIGNAL FROM SOMWHERE AHEAD OF US. WE ARE ANALYZING ITS CONTENT, BUT I SWEAR IF THIS IS SOME PANTY-WAISTED SCIENTIFIC EXCUSE TO GO CHASING SOLAR FLARES WITH MY BATTLESHIP. . . . . . .
Captain John Q Brhode paused in his log trying to come up with a suitably horrific ‘threat’ that he hadn’t used a thousand times already. That was the problem being the biggest butt-kicker in the fleet: it was hard work just trying to maintain some originality in his grumpiness. (Ed. Note: You got NO idea Bucko!)
“Computer insert note to amend log with suitable threat once I think of something good.” He said at last placing the little PADD on the arm of his chair for later retrieval.
Glancing abut the bridge he took great delight in the uneasy cloud that seemed to hang over his assembled officers and staff.
Good.
He liked to keep his staff nervous.
All the Department heads were at their stations, His two Execs flanking him to either side, and the rest of the staff gathered around awaiting his every idle whim.
Lieutenant Judy Smith, Junior Bridge watch officer stood nervously before the massive Captain’s chair and licked her lips nervously. She was new to the Galaxy, and was barely two years out of the Academy, but she had worked hard to earn the right to sit for an occasional Bridge shift. Now she was wondering if that had been wise.
Smith had summoned the Captain to the bridge only minutes before when sensors had picked up some odd signals. She had debated about bothering the Captain over something that may be so trivial, but on the other hand wasn’t caution always the wiser course?
“Well Mr. Smith,” Brhode announced, fixing his stare on the sandy-haired officer before him “Now that you got us all in here, lets hear what you got so flipping excited about.”
“Aye sir,” she began, “Roughly 30 minutes ago, Galaxy began detecting up some rather diffuse subspace energies reflecting off our forward Navigational array. The waves were rather weak and . . . somehow distorted, so the regular Comm receivers couldn’t even pick them up. Only the Large dish had enough surface area to get a signal.”
Brhode waved away the technical details. He hated details. He didn’t understand how old Picard could stand to have that Damn Android and that Blind Engineer of his always babbling away in techo-jargon.
“A signal?” he asked, “Are you saying you interrupted us over some damn subspace garbage, or is someone is sending us a message way out here?”
Smith shrugged slightly, “Well sir, that’s debatable. We have not had much time to analyze things, but the consensus up here is that it was nothing but random background subspace static. Even if it is a signal its weak nature would seem to imply that its not aimed directly at us.”
“So you got me in here for static?” Brhode frowned. . . . . . . Making Brhode frown was not a good idea for one’s career.
“Er. . .well not exactly sir, like I said we’re still analyzing things, but what perked our interest was some rather unusual facets about the waves themselves. For instance there is a very pronounced Doppler shift on all the wave-forms indicating that whatever is sending the signals is undergoing some very unusual movements. The Doppler keeps increasing and decreasing as if its flowing to and fro like the waves lapping at the sea shore.”
“Leave the poetry to me Lieutenant.” Brhode snapped. He hated when people tried to get all mushy-mouthed about their jobs. “So some hotshot is snapping his ship back and forth from forward to reverse right? Some damn drunken Ferengi no doubt...or Pakleds tossing cows. . . ”
Smith shook her head, “No sir, as odd as it may seem that’s impossible. The speeds of the Doppler changes first of all indicate that such theoretical movements would have to be performed at speeds beyond Warp 9.99. Impossible. And then here is the other startling fact that while the Doppler seems to indicate movement, the signal strength shows no variation at all.”
“Meaning that its NOT moving.” Brhode concluded. It was true even minor variations in distances between ships would cause small increases or decreases in signal strength as the transmitter got nearer or farther away. A steady signal strength indicated a relative motion of zero
Smith nodded.
“So what we have here is a signal that is not a signal. . . . .produced by a ship that is both moving faster than anything else in the fleet AND also NOT MOVING at the same time.” Brhode summed up with a frown.
“Aye sir. . .Its moving. . . .and yet its not.”
"Maybe we, the receiver, are moving and our..." Lysander began, to realize no one was listening to him.
Brhode sat quietly for a moment considering the rather peculiar information he had been presented. This sort of mystery was Starfleet’s Bread and Butter. The kind of thing the organization was founded for in the first place. . . . . unfortunately this was John Q we are talking about here.
“Listen up Smith, “ he began. “This sort of thing sounds like it might of great scientific interest. Things of great scientific interest DO NOT interest me!! I want blood and guts and heads on pikes you follow me?”
Gulping the Lieutenant nodded and took an involuntary step backwards.
“Execs,” Brhode addressed the attentive Lysander and Rebecca, “Let the science weenies handle this problem form afar, but I’m NOT authorizing a change in course unless you bring me some better details. Otherwise continue showing the flag.”
And with that Brhode stormed off the bridge in a huff.
“What are you waiting for science?” Lysander turned to call over his shoulder, “Lets get cracking on that signal. “
=/=
NRPG: Okay, we are off and running. . . Feel free to post your reactions so far, but in particular we need two things solved.
1—Why is this strange signal acting so funny? (Science can handle this)
2---What does the signal say in the first place? (Intelligence and possibly Tac can deal with this)
Anyone from those Departments that wants to take a crack at it email me privately cj95@awesomenet.net for the details of this mystery.
Everybody else. . .take a picnic on the holodeck or something. . . .you wont have time to later ;) Eventually I’ll be making requests of all Depts so sit tight. Also Chad, if you want to do another Astrophysics scientific post like you did for the last mission contact me. It should prove very helpful later on.
The couple in the corner of Ten-Forward were arguing...again.
Ella, from her seat two tables down, observed with interest, finding their little spat more entertaining than watching the stars pass by. This was their third fight in just under an hour and Ella, who admittedly had nothing better to do with her free time, spied on them out out of sheer boredom.
She still had no clue what they were fighting about. The conversation from their end was cool and composed, their voices never raising or projecting.
Most in Ten-Forward, excluding Ella and perhaps the bartender, who seemed to have her eye on everything, probably didn't even notice, too wrapped up in their own little dramas. But since Ella was good at oberving people, which was nicer than saying spying on them, she noticed the little things that gave them away.The man would frown slightly when he thought he was being interrupted and the woman would tap her long fingernails on the table when she thought he was being too slow. The man would slightly roll his eyes occasionally and the woman would sometimes try to pin him with an icy glare.
He would clench his dinner fork like he wanted to stab her or perhaps himself. She, in turn, would contemplate her champagne glass like she wanted to bop him over the head with it.
Perhaps not so subtle afterall.
But if anything, the past two hours had shown that their fights were part of a predictable little cycle. In the end, they would make up, once again happy and blissfully in love. Then the google eyes and hand holding would begin.
Given their past performance, Ella estimated about two minutes until this happened.
She quietly yawned and then took a sip of what she considered a much deserved, although still syntheholic Gin and Tonic. Engineering was up and running again, the craziness of the Quick computer virus and of homicidal manaics on the loose a somewhat distant memory. Of course the Galaxy, like all ships, still had its minor glitches, which had Engineering scrambling about in the vain attempt to avoid a visit from the Captain, who seemed to view Engineers like some sort of disease. Most of the engineers felt as if they hadn't slept in about forever and they were probably right.
Ella spun her glass around carefully, still watching the couple out of the corner of her eye. Her roommate, Indigo Renkert, had invited her to 'hang 'with some of her friends, who she had affectionately nicknamed Loudmouth and Tubby, but Ella had passed, deciding that she didn't want to go in to work tommorow with a hangover. So she had gone to Ten Forward instead to write a letter to her friend Laura. She'd ordered a drink and had ended up watching the couple as well.
A quick peek showed that the man and woman were holding hands again. All was well with the universe once more, Ella thought drily. She gave them approximately twenty-two minutes until the next fight and turned back to her letter.
Dear Laura- it read - Sorry I haven't had a chance to get back to you sooner, things have been crazy here. I'm sure you've read all about it by now in papers so I won't go into it. I like the Galaxy and thanks to all its design flaws at least there will always be something for me to do! Speaking of tedious boredom, how is Mother? I imagine she's driving you crazy by now with the Fall Formal etc. Poor Laura! Just remember, the offer still stands. If you want an early retirement, I'll bully Father into giving it to you-
That would be easy enough, Ella thought. A nicely planned fit over the comm channel, complete with heart wrenching sobs, would do the trick. -A good deal of the crew- the letter continued - played that game that you're so fond of. I can see why you like it so much; I could almost picture being in it! Too bad my alchemist wasn't that effective. Oh well, I guess alchemy isn't for everyone :) Perhaps, I'll become some type of sorceress next time, if that's even possible-
Laura would let her know, Ella thought with a grin. She considered her next few paragraphs before adding more to the letter.
- I played mostly so I would have the chance to interact with other people, as all I've seen lately are other engineers! My impressions of them vary: Brhode is, of course, almost exactly as you and I had discussed. Pigheaded to the core. The two commanders bicker constantly at each other one minute and then make eyes at each other the next, not unlike the couple in Ten Forward I'm watching.
Savoie, Karanin, Corgan, Black, Reece, Selanna, and Curtis are all a part of what I have deemed the too-good-to-be-true category. You know, the do-gooders, the people who would go through hell and back for someone they didn't even know, that sorta thing. They're good people, especially Curtis (who I know the most out of this group) and even Corgan, who just doesn't seem like a necrophiliac, depite some rumors.
It wouldn't surprise me in the least, however, if that Leo Streely was one.
Dr. Quick acts like a complete space cadet 90% of the time but then has these moments of clarity. Well, didn't someone once say that most genuises are also insane? It drives our Cheif crazy but she's something of a hothead anyway. But she's got a disability as well, so at least she's understanding. Dr. Malgin probably equals her in temper, or so I've been told. But neither can compare to the great John Q. Brhode!
Dallas and that other man with the hard-to-spell last name, so I'm not even going to try Laura, are counselors. Enough said. Unfortunately, I thought I saw Dallas giving me considering looks, like I would be an interesting case for her next paper or something. I forced myself to be as polite, and invisible, as possible.
I think the people who interest me most are Raven Darkstar and this Legate Curran.
Darkstar because he talks about as much as I do and the Legate because I see something...in common between us. I cannot believe that a man with a such strong belief in our inferiority could be working for the Federation without an alterior motive. Perhaps he uses it as a means to an end, like me. Of course, in my case there is nothing sinister about wanting to be free from Earth but as to the Legate, I wonder what he's wants-
Ella looked up to see that the couple were no longer sitting at their table. A pity, she thought. She would have liked to know if they were fighting as they left. Oh well, maybe they would come back tommorow.
-Well, Laura. The couple have left, depriving me of my sport. I think that I will turn in early so that I can get a good start tommorow. There shouldn't be much to do tommorow, we're only investigating some strange signal which will probably turn out to be nothing, but some extra sleep couldn't hurt.Take care and stop letting that new maid get away with doing half her chores!
Love always,
Ella Marie
Ella re-read the letter and then saved it, deciding to send it tommorow in case she thought of anything more important to add later. She finished her drink and then, after throwing a quick approving glance out at the stars, left to go get some rest.
To Recap: Electra Reece, after seeing James Corgan in a compromising situation (consisting of a Klingon dominatrix, James’ torn pants, a high tech lash whip and a tribble) , was not impressed and thereby walked out on him. Whether or not their beautiful relationship was damaged beyond repair has yet to be seen.
Damage control, the messiest work a man has to partake whenever an incident with a girlfriend became messy. The working machines of man (not human, but the male gender in general, of all races and species) have tried for generations to come up with all sorts of solutions for their general problems. One might remember the toilet seat problem back when waste reclamations were water powered (targeting lights were the solution). There was also the age-old problem of lipstick (still unsolved, thanks to the objections of the romance/adultery holofilm industry) and then the mother of all troubles, or one of a dozen that rank just as high, was the problem of finding a proper place to park your shuttlecraft…
Who are we kidding? Men neither have the organizational skills nor the time to build a brotherhood, much less a damage control organization that could solve all their petty, yet persistent lifetime problems. Sad, but true. Therefore, Corgan was up the creek on his latest problem.
While the Quick Virus was still in full effect, finding Electra Reece became a process of elimination. Though traveling all across the ship was tiring and aggravating, it was great for the soul, an excellent source of exercise, and it gave James plenty of time to think and plan. Because after all, it had been established that he had no backup.
James saw his beau by chance in the halls near Ten Forward. She had the grace of a princess and the refined step of a military drill sergeant. Over her was purpose and design. She was thoroughly busy keeping busy, looking busy, and avoiding others like they were carrying a disease. Her raven hair, crystalline dark eyes and rose-colored face hid a fury’s spite. James didn’t need to see her to tell that approaching her could end his life. At a full six feet tall, Lexa was a very intimidating woman when she wasn’t her meek, withdrawn, mentally nebulous self. And when she had an excuse to get angry, James became very scared.
For those who still didn’t realize the full effect, a person who’s incompetence in talking to the opposite gender had to approach a ticking timebomb who had an unbeaten streak in catfighting.
~”I’m scared.”~ James quivered. He couldn’t recall the last time he was so piss drained frightened.
His conscience was there to provide the answer. ~”Relax for a second, will ya Broken Head? Look, this is Lexa, dear, sweet, lovable, passive Lexa. Your honey, your babe, your hot ass little sugar momma? Remember? She loves you dammit! Now go out and nail her like a board!”~
~”Arrrggg! Dammit!”~ James decided right there and then that his conscience was of no help.
But always willing to contradict, Conscience thought, ~”Ummm… James? While you were thinking with me, Lexa didn’t see you, and she sort of… walked away.”~
“Really?” James looked around frantically. Sure enough, Electra Reece was nowhere sight! “F**k me up the targ @$$… this is f**king insane.” He groaned.
James followed his girlfriend down the corridor, traveling for what seemed like kilometers. She was making great time, like she was trying to avoid him. James threw himself into a personal red alert. If she was trying to avoid him, then it meant she was ready. With the initiative lost, James had to be even more careful than before.
He caught up once again with Lexa. She was about ready to depart in the turbolift until James caught up. She had the look of a surprised animal caught in a tractor beam’s luminescence. There was the feeling of her shields going up. Her eyes crackled like ice and electricity.
“What do you want?” She asked, placid and unfeeling like her porcelain doll persona.
What was James going to say about that? When it came to Lexa, he couldn’t tell if she was really calm and meek, or hiding a furious counterattack. James took the first step and answered in a manner that demanded he couldn’t be ignored, “Lex, we need to talk. Now.”
“About what James?” Her emotions of anger and sadness slowly seeped in, “About how you broke my trust? How I saw you with another woman? How you’ve been busy since the start of mission? What? What is there to talk about? I thought everything was pretty clear.”
“Hey!” James threw up his arms in surrender, “Come on, I want to set the record straight. I know what you saw that night. And… I’m sorry if I haven’t spent that much time with you. But I’ve been restricted to quarters for god sakes. I tried communicating with you, but you never answered back. Lex… please!”
Lexa turned her back, and then turned around again to rebute, “Then why were you half naked with Princess DeV’oraH?” Her words came out as wracking, half contained sobs, “Why? Are you not interested in me anymore? Is she more beautiful, more exciting? Sane?”
“Sane? Where the hell did that come from?” James argued, “You’re the most beautiful, most wonderful, most levelheaded woman I know. I wouldn’t want anyone else.”
“Are you saying that to make me feel better?” She spat back.
James couldn’t believe what he was hearing. She wasn’t raising shields, but firing phasers and photons at him as well. “I’m trying to tell the truth, god dammit! Princess DeV’oraH came in to ask about security arrangements. She came onto me. I fought her off. And if you don’t believe me, why would I try to hold off a Klingon with a tribble? Would I do that if I wanted to fool around with her?”
“I don’t know James. I just don’t KNOW!!!!!” She blew her stack, and no, she wasn’t beautiful when she was angry. James was scared, though he couldn’t let her know that, “What does it matter? I can’t trust you anymore! Ever since we came together, I could never trust you. You spent all that time with Rebecca…”
“You were in a coma, Lex. And she needed help, which she outright refused. Nothing came of that. Now come on. I have never cheated on you. Why won’t you believe me?”
“Because I can’t trust you! You’re never there when I need you, and when I don’t you barge in!”
James snapped back, “HEY! That was damn cold, Lex! You’ve been avoiding me since we came back on the ship. And when I try to explain myself to you, you either disappear or pretend to listen. How the hell am I supposed to feel about that? Pardon my Vulcanese, but it feels like sh*t when you blow me off.”
“So I don’t feel great!?” Her rebuttal blew James away. He had to step back and let her have her piece, “What, you expect me not to be different after all that’s happened?”
“Hey, come on! That had nothing to do with what’s been going on! Now are you going to let me explain myself, or what?”
“It has everything to do with what’s going on now! James… I can’t trust you anymore! Who knows what you have done while I was gone! If what I just saw with Princess DeV’oraH, just imagine what happened while I was in that coma!!!”
“Yeah, which is absolutely nothing, just like what happened with PRINCESS DEVORAH!”
“Liar!”
“Fine, don’t believe me! If I can’t convince you I’m telling the truth, then f**k it! Believe whatever the f**k you want!” James threw his arms up in the air, wanting to just scream to the cosmos in order to vent his frustration on something other than Lexa. But in mid rant, he realized that the increasingly heated argument with himself and Lexa has gathered a crowd of interested officers. Lexa noticed this two, and abated her chilling wraith away from James and toward everyone else.
Her glowering didn’t break up the crowd. One brave soul asked, “Ummmm… sirs? Is everything ok?”
In unison, Lexa and James yelled, “F**K OFF!” at the crowd, and like schoolchildren, they ran away frightened, though not frightened enough to scatter their tidbits of information in the ship’s rumor mill.
“Lex, can we continue this in the turbolift?” James asked flatly.
“Definitely.” She replied without emotion.
They both entered the turbolift together, without civility or acknowledgement. Both were still heated from the argument, but nobody said a word. Finally, Lexa requested deck 16, and the turbolift shot down like a railgun bullet. The turbolift sped, and nobody said a word.
Until James commanded, “Computer, halt turbolift.”
The turbolift jerked momentarily as the inertial dampeners adjusted. James broke the silence by saying, “We’ve hit rock bottom, haven’t we?”
“Uhh huh.” Lexa mumbled, “You swear too much. You get baited into arguments too easily. You’re stubborn, James.”
“Yeah, I know. But you’re insecure yourself. Are you always worried about adultery? I may not be perfect, but I trust you.”
She didn’t answer back.
James continued. “Aww… f*… I mean… sorry. That was below the belt. Lex, what the hell happened to us? We’re not the same, aren’t we?”
“No, we’re not.”
James replied sincerely, “Sad thing is, I love you, and I still do. When you were in that coma however, I didn’t give you any justice. My visits became less and less as I was taken on assignments and training. My letters became less and less. I was moving on while you were in your bed. Life was moving on. I adjusted, became a better person as the counselors would say. Straightened my life, my strange ways out. Took on more training. I constantly improved myself… stepping that much farther away from the person you loved. I’m not the same I used to be, Lexa. Nobody believes it, but I’m not the same. No more bad dreams. No more hang-ups. Counselors gave me a clean bill of health. Dammit… I became normal. The old me, the person you know… is dead. I’m cold, bland and boring. Nothing you like. “
Lexa whispered under a veil of tears, “I changed too. I don’t know what happened to me. I was stuck in that darkness for… who knows how long. It felt like years. And when I came back, I changed, and you weren’t there. Now I see things, feel things, things you can’t possibly understand. I’ve changed too much, James. And now, I… can’t shake these feelings about you James. I love you, but I see all these horrible things around you. I can’t see you earning my trust anymore.”
“So this is it? We’re not the same. We’re strangers to each other?” James asked.
“Yes. I’m afraid so. James, We can’t do this anymore. You saw what happened out there.” Her hawklike face struck with alarm.
“That?” James pointed to the outside? “Just one argument.”
“No. It’s more than that, James. Our relationship in general. It’s not the same. It can’t be the way it was before. James, I wish it could go on.”
~”No!”~ James wanted to scream, “It can’t quit.” He started to beg, “I want it to work. It has to work! I don’t want to piss this damn relationship away! No! It’…” he quivered, and saw what was becoming of him. The paranoid little sod was turning into Lexa, “Dammit… what choice do I have? We don’t love each other anymore, do we?”
Lexa simply nodded her head. “Computer, resume turbolift.”
“That’s it? We’re going to break up. And to think I came to talk to you to try and save it.” James leaned back against the wall, his teeth pressed together, his sadness mounting, “There’s no other way, I take it.”
“James… it was dead….”
“When we both died.”
Lexa raised an eyebrow inquisitively.
“Lexa,” James saw her lack of understanding, “What I’ve learned in life is that death and change are both the same. Only one leaves a living being, the other a corpse. Either way, the old person is dead. We’re both dead, and we can’t love each other. Not when we want to crawl into our corners. Not when we can’t trust each other. Not when we can’t understand what happened to each other. “
“So, call it quits?” James extended his hand out for a shake.
The turbolift swooshed open after a violent jerk. Lexa, in all her stately, blue blooded glory, ignored James and walked out of the turbolift. “I’m sorry…” She gasped.
“Lex… I’m going to miss you.” James peeped.
Lexa turned her tear-ridden head around for a final look then departed without so much as a word. She was gone, and this time it really sank in. Lexa was gone, gone for good. She wasn’t coming back. All the thoughts and fantasies about a life together were lies, farces that were a sinful sight
to Corgan’s vision. He could imagine being with her for the rest of his life. Living, growing old together, raising a family, who knew what else.
But this wasn’t the end he anticipated.
The greatest girlfriend he ever had in his life, so far, was walking away, and he couldn’t repair the damage he had done. The sheer sorrow and frustration of it all was unbearable. James couldn’t contain himself anymore.
The turbolift console would have been surprised, if it had vision. James fist hurled into the strong lexan plastic, bouncing off like a springball, bruising his fist and sending rivulets of pain down his arm.
But what good was anger and pain? It didn’t make him feel better. It never solved his problems. All it did was bruise his fists, sling out a string of verbal abuse, and caused him to sink down into the turbolift, sitting on the floor, with a self defeated look in his face.
“Why do I bother anymore?” James sourly complained to god, “Ohhh.. f**k….. forget it. Why bother?”
The day was just like any other day. At least, it was like any other day James has experienced during the past few months. There was the same old routine, repeatedly, rotating like a stuck record with the piercing sonic shrill of a boy band playing on infinite loop. The sad part was, James was starting to get into routine. Moreover, he was starting to like it.
Routine was safe, comfortable, predictable, and most of all, reliable. When one flew into a routine, or in James’ case, slipped into it, there was nothing to worry about because everything became the same. Take for instance, James new schedule. On most days, he would wake up, and the first thing he would do was stumble out of bed, just hoping to sleep for five minutes. However, that wasn’t routine, as much as he liked it. Besides, he needed to wake up. So he would go to the replicator, order the bitterest coffee he could find, and gulp down the liquid without tasting it. Then he would order his breakfast. Oatmeal mostly, bacon and eggs if he was feeling more adventurous. Then he would be off to the bathroom to shave. On the way out, he would grab his workout clothes, hastily put them on, and then go to the holodeck for Sergeant Major Goldstein’s torturous exercises. After that, hit the showers, and then go to work, where he would sit around security and do reports. Some days, he was allowed to settle a domestic dispute (every Friday, he looked forward to meeting the Widdlesteins) or find a missing pet. Then it would be off to lunch with whomever was also on break. Wordlessly, he would eat, and only talk when addressed. Then it was back to work, and afterwards, dinner, where the ritual of lunch was again repeated.
Then he would crawl back to his quarters, play a few songs, and go to bed,where he would retire early and sleep for longer than he used to. Every Tuesday of the week, it was guitar lessons with Rebecca. Every Friday he played the guitar at the holodeck music club. On Saturdays, he would be dragged along with his security department to Ten Forward for drinks.
On some days, his routine would be intrusively broken. Last night, he was forced to join a Dungeons and Dragons game. Dr. Quick organized the game.
James remembered the countless hours he spent in Secondary School and the Academy playing the game. He even used to paint the figurines used in the game. It was all great fun, but last night was not fun at all. Lysander was being his usual prickish self (though with great irony, he was the first to die). When James decided to come to life and play a joke on Rebecca (though it was also Lysander’s idea), she didn’t appreciate the humor. Brhode was being miserable. Everyone complained. Overall, it wasn’t worth breaking routine, and when he tried to do something out of the ordinary, he was as usual quashed.
Even his personality took on a routine. When he was angry, he reserved himself and apologized profusely for any hostile intent. When he was happy, though rare nowadays, he would keep it to himself due to his worries about looking silly. Every conversation was curt, polite and hasty, and always hinting that he wanted out as soon as possible. And for some reason, the salty edge that was once a trademark in his verbal language was now gone, mostly caught as half swears changed into more suitable words, then an apology to cover it up. Somedays, he was the perfect administrator. Others, he was cold as a Breen winter. And that was how he always acted.
A dull, but safe routine.
James didn’t want to escape, except by avoiding the outside world altogether. This was probably why he wanted to sleep so much nowadays. Just five more minutes, he would tell himself, five more minutes. Somedays, he wished a coma would overtake him. It wouldn’t be death, but for a person who’s too cowardly to kill himself, it was the next best thing. How he wished he could fall asleep. But life was continuing on. He had duties to perform, duties that didn’t allow him to sleep and avoid the world.
Eventually, he had to go out.
The best he could do was slip in a routine, a day-by-day track of drudgery that guaranteed safety due to its predictability. Not much else he could do, since insanity was not something he wanted to go back to. The days of nightmares and see-saw emotions were long over. Now, he had nothing at all.
Absolutely nothing. Funny how he kept going back to that one phrase.
Nothing. He had nothing. No love, no life, no emotion. A pure, black void where his heart once stood. Ambition was destroyed, affection crushed. There was a time in his life when he thought he could escape the darkness. That was a time when he had everything. He had a love. He had a life. He had potential. He was gone for a while, but the world was waiting to embrace him. His thirst for knowledge and status was unquenchable for a couple of short years. His confidence assured him a spot as one of the elite. He learned plenty, applied most, and thought he came out a normal person. In addition, whenever something left him, he had faith that it would always come back.
What a fool he became. James hated himself for being so blind to the truth.
Everything was waiting to be taken away or ruined by his foolishness. He had it all, but didn’t know that his destiny was meant to be destroyed in front of him. With his new beginning now at a end, Corgan found that there was nowhere else to go and nothing else to dream. There was only one place to go, and that was in routine.
He admitted it was dull, but also admitted that it was safer than the alternative. Stay and be safe, or go out, try to be something of himself, share the blessings with a companion, and then watch it fall away, or stay in limbo, where if he didn’t change then nothing else would that could affect him.
~”How long has it been?”~ James idly sat in his desk, signing the latest security reports and piling them on an out box on his desk. How long has it been to what? Did he know? There were so many things that could answer his question. How long has it been since he last had a challenging task? He couldn’t help but shake the feeling that Brhode never gave him a good assignment because after last mission, he couldn’t be trusted with the big tasks. There was no worry about it. There were plenty of crewmen capable of taking on a big assignment, and since there was no more ego or confidence to undermine, it only offended him slightly.
Or how long has it been since he last saw Electra Reece? Now there was a subject he wanted to outright avoid. Lexa haunted him like a black mark that couldn’t be erased. He failed her. He betrayed her. He broke her trust, and it couldn’t be taken back. So why was he obsessing about it now? What was done was done, and since he could not gain her trust again, there was no point in trying, no matter how badly he wanted her back.
Maybe that was why he was so mired in his own darkness? He missed his reason for trying. Nevertheless, what was done was done. She was gone, and so were the redeeming points of his humanity. No coming back to the days where he thought he had all he needed and where nothing was out of reach. Those days were gone. Now accepting the role as an over trained security drone, he accepted that the old days were not coming back, so it was more prudent to make himself comfortable in his new, boring life.
James Corgan’s sudden attitude adjustment was not lost to the rest of his staff. The security department heard about his messy split with Electra Reece. Some officers were witness to what was called ‘The Tribble Incident’ with himself and Princess DeV’oraH that set off the break up, and it was now a popular urban legend on the ship. Some security officers who either cared about their co-workers or were too nosey for their own good were able to put two and two together and find a co-relation between Corgan’s attitude change and Electra Reece. James wasn’t a fool to this. He knew what was going on.
All the words that were spoken behind his back. He knew them all, just like before his great awakening. He hated every word. James decided to drop his last train of thought. ~”What did it matter? Why bother? I just want to go back to sleep…”~
**************
In the adjacent office, some security staff were gathering for their pre or post shift preparations. There wasn’t much to do security wise, so there wasn’t much to prepare. Hand in your weapon, your tricorder, sign out, and leave. Like James, Security was conforming to stagnation, which usually happened whenever a mission became dull.
It also left time for a lot of stipulation.
“Did you notice at the practice range today that I achieved a score of ninety six percent on the hoverball target practice? It was one of the top scores of the day.” Lieutenant E’xch, the Denobulan ‘know it all’, bragged vivaciously.
“So what? Corgan has a bad eye, and he still got a score of ninety nine percent. Not to mention you were beat out by Marsh, Krieghoff, Hanley, So’ka, Taro…” Lieutenant O’Rourke, the raven haired North American and expert on Federation Law added to keep the Denobulan quiet.
“But…” E’xch countermanded, “I’ve improved my score…”
T’lan added in her usually calm, Vulcan self, “The most improved score was Hanley, with a twelve percent improvement, followed by R’egent, who improved by seven point five two percent. You are ranked as the fifteenth most improved marksman in security, and as for your score, you are ranked as twenty fifth overall in this department, as well as eighty second in the overall ship ranks. Not to mention long range marksmanship, which Corgan still holds the all time record, and where you rank thirty forth in this department.”
“But…”
“Look kid.” Lieutenant jg Marsh cut in. The older war veteran had years of warfare experience, and therefore knew all that there was to know about standards, “You’re a good shot, but it’s nothing to brag about. We’re all handy with a phaser, nothing special really. Nothing compared to theJarheads, as galling as that is to admit. I know you want to show off, but next time give us something to brag about.”
“Your constant pleas for attention will not get you any.” T’lan added.
“My thoughts exactly.” O’Rourke concluded.
E’xch looked positively offended. His over enthusiasm and confidence where his shortcomings when it came to socializing. He sank his head down and stayed quiet.
Ensign Brin Taro, an Andorian introvert whom nobody knew too much about, was leaning in the corner while the others sat in a circle at a table in the office. Brin was busy staring off into space, as usual. He wasn’t the same since the months of the murder. He was more quiet than usual, hanging around the small clique of security officers, but not saying anything.
The door snapped everyone out of conversation, and roused the Andorian officer to look. James Corgan exited his office again. He looked impeccably neat. His face was clean-shaven. His glasses, his alternative to a cybernetic eye implant, were polished and scratch free. His suit was pressed and clean, even after a day’s work, and his pips and communicator were always polished with Pipshine (a trademark of Hawksley Industries). His officers, his crew, where worried about his current state. They remembered how casual and friendly he was when they first came aboard.
Surrounded by work and rock memorabilia, they were introduced to a young and vibrant leader who was excited to meet his subordinates. But that was a few months ago. Now the magic seemed to have left him. He was dragged out with them by their insistence instead of his initiative. He socialized rarely and smiled even less. Even the blue glimmer in his eyes was a sullen, cloudy gray.
Thankfully, James was out of earshot, and he didn’t notice his sub-ordinates talk while he went to get coffee out of the replicator. E’xch was the first to talk, as usual, “Is the Commander ok? Something isn’t right.”
“You mean you didn’t notice already? T’lan said like she was stating the obvious, “The Commander has shown some drastic personality changes in the past month. He is more, as you humans say, subdued. He no longer uses profanity. Extrovertive personality traits have been repressed. He is becoming more Vulcan everyday.”
”There’s a difference. Vulcans can control their emotions. Humans have a harder time, and the Commander doesn’t look like an unemotional Vulcan. He looks miserable.” O’Rourke sympathized.
“An emotional response.”
“Can you blame him? Brhode and the staff has humiliated him, cut him down and made him feel small… so I heard. You were there for that staff meeting. You saw how Brhode pounced on him in front of everyone. Then there’s his girlfriend. Some of us heard what happened with the Princess and that argument near Ten Forward. How can he not be miserable at a time like this?”
“How can he be miserable after three months?” T’lan raised an eyebrow, “For a human, that is worrisome.”
In the background, Corgan gulped down his coffee and walked towards the group, while Marsh was saying his piece, “I’ve seen it in the trenches. Kids who think they’re great, that they’re on top of the world. Then they go out there, see these horrible things, get dressed down, screw up a few times, and they don’t think they’re such hot sh*t anymore. They lose their sense of self after awhile…”
“He’s coming.” Brin Taro warned in his first words of the conversation.
The security five silenced themselves as Corgan strolled by. He took a fleeting glance at the supposedly innocent looking group. His look suspected rumor, but didn’t care to act on him. His eyes spoke of futility in asking, like the rumors couldn’t be ignored, stopped, or prevented from damaging anything further.
“Don’t you people have anything better to do?” Corgan uttered. The group glanced at each other. Taro spoke to cover everyone, “Sir, there’s nothing to do. Reports are done and all we had today was a missing cat, which we found later.”
“Oh… nevermind.” James replied.
“Umm… sir?” O’Rourke decided to ask warily, “We were going to go to Ten Forward in a few minutes, when the shift is off. Are you coming?”
James looked tired at that moment. He wearily answered, “No. I have a bridge shift tonight. Maybe some other time. Now look busy, before Brhode blames us for a lack of crime.” He added with a bitter taste of irony. He then walked on to his locker.
The rest of the security five had worried looks on their faces (sans the Vulcan, though she was curious).
"Kara'nin, kathe, kal, do, tu," Cutter called out to the locking mechanism outside his office. The computer quickly recognized the Chief of the Astronomy and Physics Department and unlocked the door.
Cutter walked in and set the three PADDs he held on his desk. He glanced at the message he had left for himself on the computer terminal. 'Reserve Holodeck time for flying. Exercise,' it read. He sighed as he brought up a new window. He didn't have time to fly, he had to submit a report to Captain Bhrode. Something in the back of his mind alerted him that he hadn't flown an inch for over a month, but again, he didn't have the time. There was never any time and there was too much work. It bothered him, occasionally, when he thought about it, but then again, he was there to work. He wasn't there to play. And despite his interest in his work, and it was interesting work, he was beginning to feel unhappy. His enjoyment from his work was beginning to numb away. Something was wrong, but he didn't know what.
"Computer, begin report," he began. Something was wrong, but he didn't have time to think about that now.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
To: Captain John Q. Bhrode
From: Lt. Cutter Kara'nin
Subject: Important Astronomical Phenomena Onroute
Date: -----
This report covers major astronomical phenomena within the area of the Outlands the Galaxy is scheduled to travel through. For easy access and assimilation of information, the structure of this report is as follows:
I - Outlands, General
II - Phenomena En Route
III - Tactical Alerts
IV - Scientific Opportunities
I - Outlands, General
The Outlands is an area of space, whose borders are designated by political means, however is generally accepted to contain 2.75 billion cubic light years, the largest dimension of which borders about 6,000 light years of Federation territory. Space and subspace over such a large area hold to expected properties, however there are a considerable amount of exceptions. The Koorlian Nebula, a large stellar nursery approximately 58 light years across, lies near the Cardassian end of the Outlands and contains numerous subspace and electromagnetic anomalies. The Krakoa Black Hole, a 14 solar mass black hole, lies near Gorn territory and warps space/subspace such that warp travel is impossible within 850 AU of the singularity. The region of space near the Tholian Holdfast has been known to be home of a weakened dimensional barrier between our dimensional plane and another. The Outlands holds an estimated 13 million stars, however only about 1.15 million have been ca! talogued and only several hundred have been visited. Only 0.018% of the Outlands has been explored by the Federation and its allies.
II - Phenomena En Route
We are currenly en route to the Federation Trade Base to the Outlands located in the Rigel system, Rigel VIII specifically. No abnormal phenomena occur along our current route. We will pass reasonable close, within 2.5 light years, of the following stars (star systems containing K, L, M, or N class planets are designated; planets inhabited with sentient life also designated):
28 Corvius (K - inhabited, N - inhabited)
13 Mensa
Chi Mensa (K - uninhabited)
05 Hydrus
Alpha Rigel
Beta Rigel (M - inhabited, M - inhabited, M - inhabited, M - inhabited)
Gamma Rigel
Delta Rigel (M - inhabited, M - inhabited, M - inhabited, M - inhabited, M -
inhabited)
Alpha, Beta, Gamma and Delta Rigel are stars in the Echo Cluster, a close group of four stars each approximately 0.75 light years apart from one another. The cluster is a misnomer, actually, since the four stars of Echo are actually members of a four body system. There are thirteen planets in the Echo cluster, a remarkable ten terrestrial bodies, eight of which are M-Class, and three gas giants.
III - Tactical Alerts
Current route takes the ship through Federation Space, Neutral Territory and territory owned by the Rigellian Colonial Consortium. 28 Corvius is home to two small Federation colonies. Both Beta and Gamma Rigel are members of the Rigellian Colonial Consortium. More information about this government and its policies for space travel within its territories should be obtained from the Intelligence Department. In case of emergency, the habitable or semi-habitable planets provide preferred back up or evacuation points. Current course takes us through the Oort clouds of each star in the Echo Cluster - increased watch for collision dangers is suggested. A more current database of the locations of the objects in the debris clouds should be requested from the Rigellian government. The ship will also be traveling through the Oort cloud of Chi Mensa, so a similar warning is suggested.
IV - Scientific Interests
Current course takes the ship within 200,000 AU of Chi Mensa. Although preliminary scans of this system have been taken already, a few hours within this system is requested for further study. Chi Mensa III is a K class planet and a canidate for possible colonization. A more in depth study of this planet is nessecary before a colony can be planned. It is very probable that precious mineral deposits are located on this planet, as well as the other terrestrial planets and asteroidal bodies in the system. The Geology and Planetary Sciences Department should be submitting a more formal request for this study. The largest gas giant in the Chi Mensa system has also been observed to emit x-rays in abnormal irregular frequencies near its poles. This should also be studied while nearby.
Priorty Experiments and Surveys:
Chi Mensa system
Planetary Survey of Chi Mensa III
Biological Survey of Chi Mensa III
Planetary and Spectroscopic Survey of Chi Mensa VII
Other Possible In-Depth Surveys of Bodies within Chi Mensa
Lt. Cutter Kara'nin
Chief of Astronomy and Physics
It had long been said that if one of the five senses were cut off, the other four remaining senses would get a bit more acute to compensate. Scientists and curiosity seekers had long tried to either prove or debunk that particular mystery, with no real conclusion.
Raven Darkstar, the massive, muscle bound, Indian Security officer aboard the USS GALAXY was neither a curious sort, nor a scientist trying to prove a hypothesis as he sat blindfolded in the center of his living room.
Nor was he at the center of some sort of lewd, self serving sexual fantasy as the scene could be misconstrued.
He was actually on a journey. A quest for inner peace. Normally he would be in the holodeck, sitting high atop a desolate mountain peak with lightning crashing behind him in a brilliant backdrop, as the wind howled around him and the raindrops splattered across his face. However, some hotshot Ensign named Dahlquest had whipped up a 'Picnic in the Park' program that had people flocking to the Holodecks in droves, thereby pushing the Assistant Head of Security into his apartment as he walked on his spiritual path to the cause of his building rage.
With the holodecks not an option, and with the most unconventional of distractions failing, Raven chose to look inward...although he did have to admit that while playing Dr. Quick's role playing game, he did enjoy watching Leo's charachter scamper away from the pack of angry Grues. (5 Bonus points to anyone who knows where 'Grues' came from...)
And so it was that here, in his quarters, he sat blindfolded. His vision turned inward. His minds eye open and all seeing without the distractions and minor annoyances of his daily life...
:::Tink, Clink...Crunch, Crunch:::
The brooding indian looked deeper inside himself, focusing more and more on his spirit, straining and dtraining to block the rest of the universe out like he had done so many times...
:::Tink, Clink...Crunch, Crunch :::
Beneath the blindfold, his brow furrowed deeply as he peered deep into his subconscious and looked face to face with the root of his anger, a face that looked like his very own...
::: Tink, Clink...Crunch, Crunch :::
No longer able to focus with the distraction of the odd noise around him, Darkstar growled and pulled off his blindfold to see a familiar smiling face perched only inches away from his own. Try as he could, he was unable to stop himself from showing how startled he actually was to see Leo Streely sitting crosslegged with an urn of M&M's between his leg.
"Ya know, after that whole foreskin ritual thingy of yours, I don't know if I even wanna know what your doing right now, ok?" Leo said, plunging his hand back into the urn, swirling it around and fishing out the green ones then plopping them into his gaping maw.
"Leo, what do you think your doing?" Raven asked, in a Herculean display of patience.
"Eating candy. Ya know, back in the old days, they claimed the green ones increased the old sex drive. Then they came out with this little blue pill. They did the craziest crap before starships, I tell ya."Leo said, picking what appeared to be a hair from his teeth.
Darkstar rolled his eyes. "You do know that those candies were the ones collected from the floor of the brig back when Commander Von Ernst was incarcerated."
Leo's face brightened as he examined the hair he pulled from the candy. "Von Ernst, eh? Little thick to be a head hair...little long to be another hair...but she is rather conservative, so it really wouldn't suprise me to find out that she is a little shaggy...say, what exactly did she do in that cell all by her lonesome? Any ..releasing of female tension?"
"You have severe problems, Leo. Not the least of which is you still haven't told me why you are in my quarters. I am seriously concidering resorting to physical violence."
Leo giggled. "Ah c'mon, that whole 'Looming like the mighty thundercloud' schtick may work with the skells, but I know its all just part of your image."
"Suit yourself." Darkstar said climbing to his feet and bathing Leo in his shadow.
"Besides I need to let you know about a couple of things. First, I'll be leading the kids on the ship for Trick or Treating. You got any costume ideas? And you need to clear it with Security. Thats what Jii had me do last year anyway."
The large indian's face cocked in an odd angle. "What is Trick or Treating?"
Leo just laughed. "What is Trick or Treating! What a riot! It's Halloween, partner! get into the spirit! I suggest you dress up as either that mean ol bitch from the Wizard of OZ that was always trying to eat that dog, or that oldies singer, Rob Zombie. How retro would that be!"
"I hate Halloween, Leo."
"Yeah, yeah Ebeneezer." Leo said hopping to his feet and placing the urn of candy n the counter top, still clutching the red hair. "Hey, I dont suppose you saved the Ice Princess's sheets from the cell did ya?"
"Get out, Leo."
"Right, right. I'll let you get back to your little 'solo party thingy' here, as apparently deviate as it seems. Oh, just one more thing...that psycho shit brother of yours says to tell you "Happy Halloween.". I don't wanna talk about your family in an ill manner, but that guy just seems like he's a few fries short of a 10/4 value meal, if ya know what I mean! The guy has problems! Major problems!"
The indian's face darkened.
"Yes. He does."
TBC....
If he was a less moral person he could use his job to hit the Federation where it hurts, theft of secrets, and intelligance coups that could cripple Starfleet for decades.
But Starfleet wasn't an enemy of the Alliance and wouldn't be, the Federation was too 'nice' and wishy washy. Besides, Bhrodie was a cagier leader then his bluster showed. His access wasn't as all encompassing as he thought.
Good, he would have done the same thing to a Federation officer on a Nietzchean vessel.
He started his day with an examination of the threat assesment presented by all the different alliances and empires. He did the same thing on the Klingon ship, untill that foolish officer gave him no choice but to handle things.
Now he was on the Galaxy. At least the Federation was more civilized.
Sipping on his tea he examined the threat assesments and then sent them to captain Bhrodie, Klingons not a threat, Romulans as always a threat, but not an overt one, Breen, threat, it went on like that, most species were not threats, except for a couple of small Orion pirate bands.
Once that was done he decided to look around the Galaxy....
“Psssst. . . .Hey Doctorrrrr arrre you in herrre?”
Lieutenant Bosco the Catian Tactical Officer poked his great furry head inside the elaborate laboratory facilities that had been assigned to Dr Jebediah Quick. Scanning the cluttered area carefully with his sharp feline eyes the Caitan immediately took note of some rather startling changes that had been made to the room.
In what was once a standard dull beige Starfleet laboratory, pristine and proper in all its starkness, had been transformed into something like what Bosco had once heard described as a ‘garage-sale’. (Not that the alien even knew what a garage was)
The long sleek lab tables were cluttered to the point of overflowing with tiny plastic bins, beakers and bottles full of every sort of obscure knick-knacks one could imagine. Here an old wash-tub held a large meat-eating Sinovian Shredder-Plant, there a glass beaker held tiny shards of raw Dilithium ore, and behind that a strange neon liquid bubbled quietly over a small flame. Along the walls, the omnipresent Red Alert LED lights that were present in all shipboard compartments, had literally been ripped from its housing, and the trailing wires had been plugged into some odd silver contraption that buzzed and hummed merrily to itself with odd gooshing sounds.
Posters of Rock Legends from every era of time lined the walls. Starting with an ancient 2-D print of Jimi Hendrix near the door and ending with a more recent 3-D holo of CORGAN-LIVE on the far wall.
“Doctorrrr?” Bosco ventured again, taking a hesitant step into the lab. His sensitive feline nose wrinkled at the myriad of odd scents that threatened to overwhelm him. Everything from caustic molecular acids, to cheap Perfume drifted on the air.
“Doctorrrr,I need to get a prrrrogrrrress rrreport on the signal we rrrreceived.” Bosco called a third time, beginning to wonder if perhaps the eccentric genius wasn’t in residence.
“Psssst. . .Yo, dude over here.”
Turing in the direction of the voice, the Caitan was quite surprised to see Dr. Quick, standing near the back wall, STARK NAKED and grinning like a loon.
As a matter of fact, the ONLY thing Quick was wearing was a large metallic ‘hat’ atop his shaggy haircut, with all manner of strange wires and electrodes sticking out from it.
Bosco frowned and narrowed his eyes. . . as a matter of fact that ‘helmet’ looked something like a spaghetti strainer he had seen in the galley once upon a time. The Doc seemed to take no notice of his appearance and very casually leaned up against a large chalkboard that was filled to the edges with complex mathematical formula
“Doctorrr. . .I . . .uh” Bosco decided that this must be some unusual Earthling ritual that he was unfamiliar with. He had heard that Humans from a land called Australia sometimes took off all their clothes and did odd things. “I . .uh. . .Brrrohde sent me herre to find out if you made any prrrrogrrress with the signal we rrrecieved.”
Though Quick was looking right at Bosco he didn’t show any sign of having heard him. Instead the madly grinning Scientist was clamping on hand over his mouth as if in an effort to keep from giggling out loud. As if he didn’t want Bosco to hear him. . . . ?
“So. . .uh. . .” The Alien continued, “The rrrregularrrr science Deparrrrrtment is not having any luck, and we werrrre wonderrrring. . . . .” Bosco trailed off, curiosity getting the better of him. “Sirrrr. . . . .I have to asssk.” He pointed his fuzzy chin at the spaghetti strainer, “A colanderrrrr?”
“Dude.” Quick burst out laughing “It’s like my invisible helmet.”
“But I can ssssee the helmet quite clearrrrrly.”
“No, no, no. It turns ME invisible.”
Bosco frowned. “Unfortunately I can sssssssee you as well.”
Quick’s grin quickly faded. “Get out!” he gasped.
“Doctorrr?”
“Cat-Face you can like see me?” anxiously the scientist reached up to fiddle with the little dangly wires hanging off the colander.
“In all yourrrr glorrrry.”
“Ah nerts.” Quick fussed, removing the ‘invisible helmet’ and inspecting it critically. “I was so sure I got the alignment right this time. . .Suppression of light refractivity and all that jazz.”
Bosco was somewhat amused to note that Quick still paid no heed to his full fledged nudity, but instead seemed intent on fixing his little squiggly hat.
“And the clothes Doctorrrr?” he asked.
“Oh that. It doesn’t work on inorganic material. . .you have to be naked or else you get an empty pair of pants runnig through the hallways on their own. Kinda defeats the purpose.”
“Ah”
“I mean that little Lab technician girl was in here earlier when I was testing it, and she didn’t seem to see me. . .. “ Jeb was muttering to himself as he fiddled with the colander.
“Perrrrhaps she didn’t see anything that imprrrressed herrrr.” Bosco quipped glancing meaningfully down at the Doctor’s body.
“Oh har har har Senor Hairball. Remind me to cut your catnip ration.”
“Doctorrrrr. . . “ the great cat said at last. “About those signalssss?”
“Oh yes yes, those old things,” Quick glanced about his cluttered lab, absentmindedly putting the spaghetti strainer back on his head as he looked.
Bosco noted he STILL did not turn invisible.
“Signals, signals, signals.” The Doc muttered shuffling through a stack of PADDS, and gently moving aside a small pointy-leaved potted plant that was in his way.
Bosco’s sensitive nose detected an strangely enticing aroma emanating from the plant, and a random memory from his Academy Botany Class brought the word ‘cannabis’ to mind.
“Ha. . .Check it out dude, I like totally found them!” Quick held up a tattered old notebook in triumph.
“And what did you discoverrrrrrr?”
The Doctors face lit up like the Marlboro Man, and he gestured for Bosco to look closely, his helmet-wires a jangling.
“Well its like this. . . .remember like the signal. . . .if it is a signal and not some weird cosmic far out space phenomenon mind you. . . .remember how there was this totally whacked out Doppler shift like the thing was zipping back and forth at like Warp 42 or something?”
Bosco nodded.
“And remember how at the same time the signal intensity was like totally constant as if it were sitting still and like not moving at all?”
“Yes Doctorrrrrr. . . .It is quite a parrrrradox which is why the science department wasss ssso interrrested. Brhode howeverrrrr is not interrrested in science unless it makessssss big explosssssions.”
Quick scoffed at that. “Dude this is like almost as cool as my invisible helmet. . . . .or will be once I get it to work mind you. “
“So is it moving orrrrr not?”
With a look of smug satisfaction Quick drew himself up to his full 6 feet of naked height. “Neither.” He said.
“Neither?”
“No dude, Its like sorta bobbing instead. Picture this. . . . .Like the fabric of space is like this clear calm pond of water. A 2-dimensional flat surface right? Well picture that our mystery object. . . if there is one. . . . .is like sitting in the middle of this pond. With me so far?”
Bosco nodded but wrinkled his nose at the word picture. Cats didn’t like water.
“Any-hoo. . . .” the doctor continued “If our object moves back and forth we get Doppler shifts right? If it sits still we get a constant signal strength right? What happens my furry friend if the object instead starts bobbing up and down on the surface of this 2-dimensional pond?”
Bosco considered, “Waves?”
“Like totally tubular waves! The waves would simulate a Doppler shift in synch with the speed of the bobbing, and yet the object would still have no lateral motion. . . it would be at rest in relationship with the edges of the 2 dimensional pond. But remember we’re talking the fabric of space instead of water. So we take the 3 Dimensional Universe. . .and then start ‘bobbing’ our object up and down into a higher dimensional plane we cant see. . . . .” Quick trailed off.
“We get wavesss again Doctorrrr!” Boscos eyes lit up, “Range and bearing remain constant, and yet we get scrrrrrewy Dopller rrrrreadings depending on the speed of yourrrrr bobboing action!”
“By Jimi I think you’ve got it Mr. Chocolate Milk!”
Boscos mind reeled at the concept while the (STILL) naked Quick replaced his notebook on the table. Brhode would be very interested in this phenomenon. . .or at least he ought to be. “Something. . . .apparently was ‘bobbing’ in and out of the universe AND sending some sort of signal at the same time.
He’d need to inform the Captain as soon as. . . . .
Commander Rebecca von Ernst walked unexpectedly into the lab her head buried in a PADD and almost ran straight into Bosco’s back "Doctor Quick,” she was talking without glancing up, “I was wondering if you have those reports and--Oh!. .. excuse me Bosco."
Both Quick and the Caitan froze in surprise, acutely aware of the former’s distinct lack of clothing and awaiting the inevitable shriek of horror that was sure to proceed from the tiny XO's mouth.
The jingly spaghetti strainer was still the only thing Quick was wearing.
It was a well known fact that Rebecca had led a sheltered existence and more than likely had never-EVER seen a male naked before. (As a matter of Fact Leo Streely had a betting pool along these lines, twenty creds a square as to the exact date and 'size' of her first sighting.)
Briefly Bosco wondered if he would be required to do mouth to mouth if skittish girl would have a heart attack or something.
Rebecca looked up from her PADD glanced at Bosco and then over to where Quick in all his glory was standing wearing the ridiculous 'helmet'.
"Oh . . . my. . . . sweet . . . . Noodles!" she exclaimed in shock as her jaw dropped.
~~~Here it comes.~~~ Bosco thought, unconsciously flattening his feline ears against the sides of his head.
Quite unexpectedly, Rebecca dashed forward directly at the naked Doctor her eyes blazing, and Quick worried briefly if she was about to molest him or something.
"I cannot believe THIS!!" she cried hurrying forward as the scientist took an involuntary step back.
He was just about to throw up his gangly arms as a form of defense when totally unexpectedly the tiny redhead charged straight PAST him and made a beeline for the large equation filled chalkboard behind him.
"Can you believe this mess!??!" she gestured frantically at the incomprehensible squiggle of mathematics formulas that covered the board form top to bottom. "I mean, where did this guy take his Quantum Level Mathematics? Mutt and Jeff's school for the terminally silly?"
Drawing himself up Quick opened his mouth to defend himself, but Bosco quickly rushed forward to shush him before he made a sound.
"Errrr. . . pretty nasty stuff, yes Commanderrrrr?" he soothed while making hasty motions for Quick to remain absolutely silent. "Too bad the Doctorrrr is not herrre to explain them yesssss?"
Turning daintily on her heel, Rebecca stared at Bosco out fom under her low cut bangs. "Well duh- I don't need him here to provide an interpretation." She said staring right at Bosco (and a rather confused Quick) "Its like obvious the man's been messing around with Temporal Phase relationships and the underlying Mathematical principals of Space/Time . . . . but jeez. . . His addition is all wrong here." She gestured back at the board idly.
"Ah yessss. . .how ssssily of him." Bosco managed, as Quick experimentally waved his hand in front of Rebecca's face. "I'll be surrrrre to convey your concerrrrrns if I . . . . uh. . . .see him." Bosco could not help glancing at Quick who was standing right by his side, now making silly tongue-faces at the oblivious Commander.
"Whatever," Rebecca said shaking her head at the equations again,"Also tell him Brhode is on the rampage for those signal interpretations . . . . .I need that stuff ASAP."
"Signal Reports?" Bosco looked questioningly at Quick who silently pointed at a tiny notebook on the edge of the lab bench. "Oh yesss. . . well beforrre the Doctorrrr had to to . . .run. . . .to the bathrrrrroom. He told me he put everything in this little notebook herrrre." The alien stepped forward to indicate the proper item.
Eagerly snatching the notebook out of the Catian’s paws Rebecca thumbed through it idly. “Hmmmmm. . . . Trns dimensional Interphase huh? Good stuff. I’m going to get this to Brhode, tell Quick to come up to the bridge whenever he gets back okay?”
Tucking the book neatly under her arm, the tiny girl turned and marched right back out the door, Quick barely doging out of her way by flattening himself against a wall as she went by.
It was only when the doors hissed shut again that the Aline and the Doctor looked at each other, an expression of slow realixation dawning on their faces.
“That lab technician you said wasssss in herrre earrrlierrr.” Bosco almost whispered in awe, “Wasss it male or female?”
“Maria? A girl.” Quick breathed, gingerly touching one of his dangling helmet wires. “As was the Commander just now. . . .wait. . . .An invisible helmet. . . . . .for girls only???”
Bosco’s mouth watered at the possibilities. “Doctorrrrr. . .you wouldn’t happen to have a spare Spaghetti strainerrrrr would you?”
=/=
OOC: Okay. . .I'm again calling for volunteers. I need somone to write somthing about INTERPRETING what this mysterious signal is actually saying (any department at this point, but science or Intel would be more logical. I also need one of the helmsmen to contact me about a possible change of course pretty soon. First Come first serve. If Quick has to figure out this one too, or start steering the ship then pinaos are gonna start dropping. (Ed. note: Pickey is kidding. Joe and I would NEVER let a Texan near the Piano Dropper 3000!) Security:Medical: Counceling. . .get your rest because you're gonna need it later. (heh heh)
****
~ So what the hell was that game-thing all about? ~ Victor paused in his thoughts to take a sip of his coffee and scroll down the list of new training classes added to the Galaxy's files on his PADD. ~ We roll little plastic dice and pretend to be elves and dwarves, and have the weirdest guy in three sectors tell us what jumps out of the undergrowth to attack us next? I know that the Counselor thought it'd be a good 'socialization exercise' for me, but there really wasn't much social activity going on unless you count Commander von Ernst evaporating Hawksley and Corgan's characters in a fit of pique as a 'social activity.' Hell, maybe it was a social activity for them, who can tell? ~
He sighed, shaking his head. ~ I wish Counselor Dallas would stop trying to 'help' me. She's a nice enough lady - for a Counselor, anyway - but there isn't anything wrong with me to begin with. I am what I am, and if the rest of the crew doesn't like that.~ He looked up, startling several nearby crewmen who were watching his corner, drinks in their hands, with horrid fascination, like rabbits that had suddenly discovered a wolf in their midst and were afraid to move for fear of attracting attention to themselves. ~
Well, that's just the way things are. ~
One of the crewmen scooted back their chair tentatively, and when Victor didn't react, started a mass exodus from the tables around him by making for the safety of the bar. In just a few seconds, there was a one table 'buffer zone' between him and the rest of the patrons. ~ And there we have it - the Krieghoff Neutral Zone. I never should have bothered to come up here, this would have been easier if I'd just stayed back in my room and gone over the list there. ~
Turning back to his examination of the list, he paused now and then to flag an interesting-looking class as the background noise slowly started to resume to normal levels. ~ There's the second part of that shuttlecraft engine repair class I took back on Idras Station, might as well finish it off. Hmmm. there's Level 2 of the Tricorder Repair and Modification series - hell, I'll take that too, the last part came in useful. Now, didn't I see something about Replicator Repair a ways back? That might be interesting.
Why did everyone stop talking? ~
A hush fell over the room. Looking up and craning his neck to see what the cause was, Victor saw that 'Lady Deathstrike" and a trailing bevy of her knuckle-dragging, sloping foreheaded Marines had swaggered into the bar. ~
Nice to know that there are still people that can stop a conversation faster than me. ~
Her laser-blue eyes swept over the crowd with professional aplomb and a hint of disdain. Her goons cracked their knuckles and looked like they wished they were in a firefight instead. It is worth noting, that the Marines aboard usually kept to the 'Barracks' area of the ship, and their free time was usually spent in solitary physical education, group training, or Fleetie Baiting. They rarely, if ever, showed their faces on the mini-Promenade or here in Ten Forward.
Betty's intense blue eyes crinkled, in an altogether 'cute' way as they fell on one Lt. J.G. Victor Krieghoff. 'Cute' being the word, if 'cute' to you means lots of punches in the mouths and broken bones. Betty still was a damn fine looking woman though. It was her reputation for having a tongue sharper than her Corps Issue K-Bar knife and the pronounced tendency to view most forms of personal interaction as being beneath her, that kept the more avaricious male members of Starfleet off her. That and the fact she had once broken an overly amorous Benzite's arm in five places.
~ I guess it *was* too much to hope for that she was going to let it slide.
~ Victor picked up his coffee and sipped at it, meeting Goldstein's gaze directly and giving a slight nod of acknowledgement as the Senior Marine NCO approached. ~ I guess I get to see how pissed she is over my cutting her out of the chase after Kragg. ~
"Lieutenant Krieghoff, I presume?" Betty asked, after pulling out a chair and taking a seat as if the table belonged to her, ignoring her off duty 'apes' snickering and nudging each other behind her as they observed the Fleeties at Play around them.
~ Well, she didn't start it out with 'die you bastard!' - I suppose that's a good sign. ~ "That would be me, Gunny," Victor nodded. ~ As if you didn't know. ~ "Can I help you with something?"
"Yas, thass the guy Gunny! Such a dumb Fleetie Nerp, he forgot to check a Klingon for a Death Pill!" one hairy gyrene guffawed, his single forehead-wide eyebrow wrinkling with the effort of trying to be witty.
"Stow it, Dahlquist." The NCO hissed out of the side of her mouth.
"But Gunny..." the bulbous-eyed, and frankly recessive looking genetic throwback whined, to taper off in a whimper as her steely eyes promised she WAS gonna 'discuss' it with him at a later date.
"Lieutenant, you still work in Security?" the Sergeant asked in a neutral voice.
"The last time I checked, I did Gunny. Is something wrong?" ~ If Bhrode transferred my ass for letting Kragg kill himself, I'll. ~
"Well, it's like this. Commander Corgan, bless his 'lil heart, seems to have forgotten his Department is under orders..." Betty began.
"Four eyed dork, if you ask me," one Marine snickered to the other.
"NO ONE asked you , Tanner. So stow it or I'll punt your ass back to whatever misbeggotten sludgepit you enlisted out of," Betty retorted, never looking back once, eyes still locked on Krieghoff.
"Affirmative Gunny," grinned the totally unrepentant looking Rifleman. "Is it okay if I call Corgan a wussy little waste of deck space and skin?" he asked, a touch too innocently.
Victor didn't bother acknowledging the comment. ~ If you're looking for me to start defending Corgan's honor, son, you're wasting your time. He's man enough to look out for himself, he doesn't need my help. ~
"Who's got the stripes here?" Betty turned on her personal 'clown' show and demanded, hands on hips.
'You do, Gunny." they intoned in well-rehearsed chorus.
"And who's gonna be babysitting the Nerps on their daily runs, if I get annoyed? AFTER they spend three shifts as Corgan's Little Helpers?" she pressed.
"We will, Gunny." the Marines chorused, a touch sadly.
The Marine whirled back on Krieghoff. "I REALLY hate to break up you guy's fantasy role playing and all... but Security is SUPPOSED to be reporting to Marine Barracks every morning at 0530 hours for calisthenics by Captain's Orders. Be there tomorrow, or I'll come looking for you. You don't want that, Lieutenant. Trust me on this one." Betty murmured, as she rose to saunter away.
~ No problems there. I'm off Klingon Detail, and Dr. Malgin cleared me - which she already knew or she wouldn't be here. But I might as well settle things with her here and now before she plays PT games with the rest of the guys to get back at me. ~ "Gunny?" Victor asked, as she got a few steps away. "You got time for a cup of coffee?"
Betty halted dead in her tracks. She turned sloooowllly and eyed Victor from head to toe, with exaggerated care. "Maybe later. Commander Darkstar is more my type. Though you're not bad... for a yellow-assed Security Nerp who's too dumb to pat down a prisoner." she mused.
With great effort Victor didn't choke on his coffee as she spoke, although one of the nearby patrons did require assistance from a friend at the table when their Romulan syntheale went down the wrong way, and the bulbous-eye Marine's eyes threatened to bug completely out of his head. ~ Was that a. No way, I had to hear it wrong. She didn't really just say something that sounded like. ~ "Whenever you'd like, Gunny. I owe you." ~ That was *not* what I was expecting! Hell, that wasn't even in the same *universe* as what I was expecting! ~
"Damn straight you owe me. Everyone does, sooner or later." Betty flashed him a quick grin and strolled out of Ten Forward... her hips had a little non-reg 'sashay' to them.
"Hey Gunny... I thought you was gonna tear that clown up?" asked the pop-eyed Grunt.
"There you go thinking again Tanner. If you wanna think so much, go join the Fleet. If you wanna shut your mouth and do a job RIGHT, stay where you are, without all the thinking and let ME think for you." Betty observed.
"I thought we were gonna play Dungeons And Dragons." Whined the hairy Marine.
"Dahlquist.. what did I SAY about thinking? Are you retarded or what?" Betty was asking, as the doors started to close on them.
"No ma'am. Texan. Hey Tanner... check out the doors. . . lookit them carvin's! "
"Niiiiice buddy! Hey Gunny! Can we..."
"No."
Victor watched her depart in silence, trying to figure out what had just happened. ~ Did she just. flirt. with me? That's what it... and that walk.. ~ He blinked, shook his head, and looked back down at his coffee. ~ I had to be imagining it; she hasn't had anything to say to a fleet member since she got aboard that wasn't prefixed with a threat or a promise of pain. ~ He took a sip, letting the hot liquid slide down his throat, emptying the mug and setting it down next to the PADD while he thought.
After a moment, he looked back up at the doors, ignoring the soft whispers that were now starting to spread around Ten Forward as the ship's personnel started to resume their normal conversations. ~ Hell, whether I did or didn' t doesn't matter, what matters is what everyone else thought they saw - and that walk of hers. ~ He played it back in his mind's eye again. ~ Oh yeah, they're all gonna think there was something going on. Hell, *I'd* think there was something going on if I didn't know better. ~ He sighed, turning back to the PADD and the training class list. ~ The way the ship's rumor mill runs, by tomorrow morning they'll have be saying that Goldstein and I are secretly carrying on a torrid affair and have three illegitimate kids together, or something equally ridiculous - and I'll both catch the blame, and be catching holy hell at PT forever, over it. ~
He made a final selection on the list, choosing an entry-level 'Survey of Planets and Cultures in the Outlands' on the theory that he might as well study something useful to the mission at hand, filled out the request forms for the classes to be added to his queue, and closed the PADD down after sending the packet out. ~ Might as well call this a night - I go on shift in an hour, and I'm sure that the Manager would like to have all these tables available for customers again. ~
He stood up; the movement making a few patrons start, and stepped to the bar, settling with the Manager and apologizing for costing her the unused table space. ~ No point in not being polite. ~ The girl nodded nervously, assured him that it was all right, and seemed relieved when Victor turned to go. The eyes of half the room - the half that thought they wouldn't get caught looking at him anyway - followed him to the door, the whispers gathering power as he crossed the room.
~ Oh yeah, PT will be hell in the morning - it's already started. ~ He resisted the impulse to turn and smile at the crowd before leaving, and just kept going out into the hall. ~ Gonna be loads of fun until they find something else to crank the rumormill up about. ~ He pondered a moment as he started down the corridor towards the turbolifts. ~ It'd have to be a juicy one though - I'm afraid that enough people don't like the two of us that this will be too good to pass up. ~
He stopped at the lift doors, waiting for the next car. ~ What's the point in worrying about it? Just suck it up and forget it. ~ The car arrived, and he stepped inside, ignoring the crewman that shrank back against the wall in the rear of the car after a cursory glance. ~ They're always looking for something to talk about. No one likes me anyway - how bad can it really be, after all? ~
--------------------------------------------------------------
Moving down the corridor, K'Eytyanna gulped and quickly spun around. Heading back down the corridor, Kay growled at herself and spun again.
Quickly, she barrelled into Sickbay before she lost the nerve and grabbed a nurse passing by. "Where is the Chief Medical Officer?"
The surprised nurse pointed over to to the chief's office and Kay quickly headed over there. Reaching the door, she gulped and knocked loudly at the door, "Are you busy? I've got a couple of problems and need help."
Vladimir's copyrighted gaze raised from the papers, which filled table without a sign of order (as it seemed for anybody not from medical), to the face of newcomer.
He frowned and said "Hmph... Sickbay is always busy. We have problems at every times and at every style. We are forced, fortunately or not, to solve others' problems... What's up, commander?"
"Well, for the past few months, I've had a bit of a ringing in my ear. And I guess you heard about the captain's beratings about the catnip."
Vladimir gave engineer a charming smile "Only thing that I can say about our captain is that he needs a psychiatrist. And as soon as possible, else we're going to need them - every one of us. But let's talk about Mister Scary while I see what is there with your ear. Pick a biobed and sit there..." He stood up with a sigh and walked to adjacent room, where he usually stored all his medi-sado-stuff. After about a minute of grumbling and digging in a shelves he exited and walked to engineer. "So, commander. Tell me more particularily - what do you feel in your ear?"
Trying to stay still, Kay sat on the closest biobed before speaking, "It took a while to get used to the hearing aids, but recently, they have been causing an annoying hiss.. Sometimes, they also give a whistling sound. I assume you've read my medical report by now and found the references to the blasted cycle that I'm stuck with.. Got any suggestions, coz I reckon it will probably hit soon."
"I will see. Now sit still and don't even make an attempt to move your body. I will see what the hell is in there and is my or specialist's attention required at all." Vladimir picked up a 'device' and scanned her head and what was inside of it ~if there was something in her head, you dumb man behind the scene!.. ~ he thought, interrupting narrator's flow of words. Finally he finished and put 'device' away. "Hiss is of nothing bad. It will apparently pass away in few days."
Turning her head and then stopping when she realised what she was doing, she replied, "It's been going on for months now though."
Vladimir frowned and after a pause said "Well, if you insist that it is so way uncool, I think you should make an appointment with Doctor Wazovski. HE specializes in ears, noses and throats. I think he might be of some help to you."
Sighing, Kay asked, "Hmm.. Don't suppose you could just perscribe some painkillers and I will just ignore anythng else that comes up with it, eh?"
Vladimir shok his head "Nah! If you came here for help - you wll recieve this help. Whether you want it or not. Two things, commander. Painkillers - NO! Doctor Wazovski - YES! Is that clear? If yes, then stop your whining. If no - then get a hell out of sickbay. "
Nodding, K'Eytyanna stood up and replied, "Okay. Bye."
"Whoa, sugar-girl, no way!" exclaimed Vladimir and pointed his finger at Kay "However, do what you wish, but if you become totally deaf. That's all, miss Samara. Farewell to you and your ears." Doctor turned over and walked to the doors.
Gulping and going a bit pale at the thought, Kay quickly followed Vladimir and asked, "Umm.. Where is that doc at the moment?"
"He will be here on next shift. Dr. Wazovski is the chief of Beta shift. Come here at about 16h00 and ask for him. Tell that I pointed you at him. Now you are free to go. Have a good day."
OOC: Thanks for all your help guys..
Rose was going over some reports after the last mission was finish and done with and she was so glad that princess was an bitch that it made Rose looks like an royal saint. Then she looked at an family picture of her, little Karyn and her Enginner husband Lt (jg) Rashid ibn Corina who was made Asst. Chief Enginner on the USS Istanbul after they got married.
Gods she misses him so much, plus the young woman was feeling an bit lonely it won't be long until he will be on the Galaxy as part of the Enginnering team.
**Meanwhile, USS Istanbul**
As the Nova Class was going towards Starbase 112 under low warp speed the young Rashid was in the holodeck praying to the Betazoid gods as him and his lovely Betazoid royal wife always did during this time. Rose taught him everything about the Betaziod gods and how to pray to the main goddess...Iris that was the main goddess in the houses of the 2nd and 3rd house of Betazed which the young Middle easter man was married into.
He never heard the holodeck doors open behind him.
"Hello Rashid, you goatfucker..." came the voice from behind him, breaking his concentration.
The young man turned around quickly and saw the man from his own wife's nightmare the one that made her into an more strongwilled woman of today: Victor Wilson.
The young 1/2 Betazoid, 1/2 Human man was wearing an dark blue Medical uniform with an Bajoran nose.
"YOU!" Rashid hissed... whirling in fright and his eyes growing wide at the sight of the interloper.
"ME! Surprised to see me?" mocked Victor.
"They locked you away.. on some Prison Asteroid..." Rashid began slowly, trying to keep an eye on the insane Betazoid.
"Oh that. I escaped. Myself and some friends. Boys, Meet Rashid. We're going to kill him. Rashid, meet the boys. Couldn't have YOU marrying my lovely Rose.. now could I?" asked Victor.
"I did..." gasped Rashid.
"Yes. You did." Victor's voice was cold. "You DID steal my soulmate from me, didn't you?"
"You're crazy... you bring her nothing but pain and..." Rashid began again.
"I COMPLETE HER!" Victor shouted, striding to the slight form of the Middle Eastern man and grabbing the front of his uniform, his insane rage lifting Rashid off his feet and slamming him against the bulkhead.
"You hurt her... she hates you..." Rashid tried to wheeze around the pain.
"Not as much as I hate you. But she -loveeessss- you... doesn't she? I heard that you had even wrangled a transfer to Galaxy, to be near her. Didn't you?" The insane stalker taunted.
"Yess.." Rashid admitted
"Since YOU stole my life... I think it only fitting that I'm going to steal yours..." Victor taunted.
"What?" Rashid asked, eyes flicking to the pair of Naucissians that flanked the insane man. They held a tightly shielded box which glowed with flickers of light and energy.
"The Federation is SOOoooo nice and caring to us insane criminals. They locked me on a Penal Asteroid with a load of crazies. Luckily, when I escaped, I brought some with me. The Medusan is invisible to us... they exist only as light and psionic energy. BUT this one is mad, even by Medusan standards. When it and I talked psionically, we found a lot in common. I was able to withsatnd contact with it because... well. I AM insane! It found me, who could free it from the stasis box that confines it... and I found a way to steal your face and your personality."
"What...?" Rashid asked, as the Naussicians set the box on the deck and lifted him up.
"I'm going to BECOME YOU by stealing your mind and body... And go to USS Galaxy and live with MY ROSE!" Victor cackled, rubbing his hands together.
The box began to crackle with an eerie light, bathing Rashid's face in it's otherworldly glow. As Rashid began screaming, Victor laughed even harder... as all the memories and stored electromagnetic data that WAS Rashid ibn-Corina flowed into the mind of Victor Edward Wilson.
When the transfer was done Vistor laughed even harder and indicated the slumping body.
"Kill him, but save the head. I need it to do the necessary facial surgery on myslef to perfect my disguise." he cackled.
"And the Medusean?" the other convicts asked him.
"Bring it as well... but gently...I will free it when I am aboard the USS Galaxy." Vistor cackled.
The shimmer the Medusans psionic shileds hid the twitching form of Rashid and the Naucissians... and made Vistor appear as the harmless Human Surgical Technician John Fetters to everyone else.
"I am coming Rose... I come to you my love..." Victor a.k.a. John murmered, as he left the Holodeck.
Rose put down the last report with a sigh. Now it was time to check on her baby Karyn. Her computer beeped with one last minute message. This one was from Rashid, her husband. In three weeks, he would be joining her. Instead of feeling happy.. Rose felt cold for a moment. like someone had walked over her grave. Funny... she wasn't really superstitutious. At least Rashid was coming, and they could be a normal family again.
"Do you mind if I sit here?" Curtis asked, holding a tray of food.
Cutter looked up from the PADD sitting next to his late. He glanced at Geluf, then looked around the dining hall. The room was crowded, but far from full. There were many empty seats and other solitary eaters Curtis could have chosen to sit with, why was he bothering Cutter? The Fruna'lin sighed and gave in, "Sem, go ahead."
"How are you?" Curtis asked, as he began to cut into his meal.
Cutter, who had tried to return to his PADD, was forced to look up again and respond. No work would be done at today's lunch. "I'm lene."
"Lene?"
The avian's eye brows perked as he tried to comprehend the question, "Oh, oukwa, err, um... I'm sorry. Lene means good," Cutter said, and then after a tought, added, "And oukwa means sorry. I tend to slur into my native language when I'm not paying attention."
Curtis waved away the apology with his hand while he swallowed his bite. "No, no, its perfectly all right. I find myself uttering the occasional native word. So, your native language is Frunian, then?"
"No," Cutter said, shaking his head. "First of
all, I'm a Fruna'lin, not Frunian, or Frunalan, or any of the other various
ways its mispronouced," he corrected, carefully enunciating the name of
his species, FROO-NAH-LIN, with a short pause between the
last two syllables and emphasis on both. "And although the government on
Fruna runs on an artificially created Fruna'lin Standard, my native language
is Mika'kardi, which is similar."
Curtis was very interested, "Would it bother you if I asked you to speak some of it?"
Cutter's brow furrowed momentarily in thought, the left rose breifly, then lowered again, "What do you want me to say?"
"Oh, I don't know, anything you wish. It doesn't matter to me, I obviously won't be able to understand it, I'm just interested in how it sounds."
After another moment of thought, Cutter began, "All right, um, here. As'na'ekale lin lan'orna'domiva, kire toon lan'ortu'pipar, as'na'inar lan'ortu;on kire ne chur lan'ortu'bi'khutck. Toon lin sacher lan'ortu'menkep fulne, as'na'ekale lan'orna'loudo. Ifek lin fruna lan'ortu'bi'kenon kire lan'ortu'bi'zitck look as'na'inar ado ra'ortu'gulk lan'orna'bi, hut ra'ortu'kigle. Fruna'lin as'i'fruna'sermchakh lan'ortu'torf'fiza'pulbert. Da'ortu lan'ortu'torf'fiza'nikle. Oku as'na'inar ra'ortu'ukhle lan'ortu'torf'fiza'ulshan. Statu um'orna lan'ortu'torf'fiza'iroogh." (Ed. note: This is the actual language of this fictional species, spelled out phonetically with the English alphabet.)
Upon noticing Curtis's stare, Cutter laughed. "I'm sorry. I suppose that was a bit long."
"What does it mean?"
"Uh, its just a shortened version of one of our creation myths. 'The gods created man, and when he woke, he saw the heavens and was filled with awe. When man asked to stay there, the gods refused. Then man was shown life and was told that the heavens were ot thier gift, but their prize. Living man would have to overcome the hardships of life. They would have to earn their way into the heavens. They would have to find them on their own.' That's the rough translation."
"Fascinating, beautiful language really." Curtis said, taking a drink.
"Well, what about you?" Cutter asked, taking a bite of bread. "What species are you?"
"Me?" Curtis began. "I'm a Kerelian. My father and I are the only ones in Starfleet. My planet, Kera, was only just admitted into the Federation 18 years ago. Most of my kind find jobs as musicians. Heard of us?" Curtis asked.
Cutter shook his head no. "Eighteen years is a long time to still only have two members of your species in Starfleet. Are the Kerelians pacifists? Fruna's membership, too, is eighteen years old, but there are a few hundred of us in Starfleet."
Curtis took another bite of his food. "No, not pacifists, far from it really. You see, about half of my planet's population opposed federation membership, so you can imagine how that half fells about joining Starfleet. As for the others, well, our unique abilities make us excellent musicians and performers, most of my kind do that. Some of the younger ones are are interested in joining, but for now, we're all there is."
Curtis continued to eat his food, he liked this guy, but he seemed a little stiff.
Cutter 'hmmm'ed and nodded and ate a bit more on his chicken fettucine alfredo. The two men sat silently for a while before Cutter felt obligated to say something else. "Music is a big part of your culture?" he asked.
Curtis perked up immediately.
"You might say music IS my culture. It's kind of a spiritual deity almost. In fact, our proper spiritual language is sung, not spoken, with certain words sounding the same but have different meanings depending on the pitch. 'Curtis' is my federation standard name, a fairly accurate translation from my spiritual name on Kera. Excellence in musical performance is pretty much mandatory for Kerelians. It's considered a disability to be born without a sense of pitch by many on my planet. We have extreemly wide vocal ranges and our hearing has enabled us to communicate with each other on frequencies so high that no other species can pick them up. Kind of a pseudo telepathy if you get my meaning. We're very receptive to all kinds of music and always want to learn more about other's musical styles." Curtis paused to take a drink. "So what about your people? Any musical background at all?"
"Musical? Yes, although its not as important as it is to your people. Music is just a form of entertainment to us. Entertainment, though, is by far the largest industry in the Fruna systems, especially if you include tourism. Kenara, which is the third planet in Tafrun system, hosts the largest festival in the Federation about every Terran year and a half - the Ra'kamil'kenara. There's nothing spiritual about it, though, at least not any longer. And, its encouraged for Fruna'lin to take up some art form, but its not forced or frowned upon if they don't."
"So, how many instruments do you play?" Cutter was actually curious. He had been having to feign interest in people for a long while, it was nice to be able to feel the real thing again.
"Almost TOO many." Curtis laughed. "I play standard Kerelian instruments like the Spirt Flute and Tanaga, which is a type of drum. But I've also really picked up on Terran instruments. Piano, Violin, the brass instruments, most of the woodwinds, and percussion. I'm learning the rest of the string family in my spare time. I tend to write my own music a bit as well. Do you play any instruments?"
"Me? Oh, I've never been very musical. I can play the Donala. Uh...I don't know the translation, if there is one. Its a class of percussional instruments, that kind of like a piano, but you strike the wooden keys with small hammers and they produce a dull sound."
"Ah, I think you're talking about Marimbas." Offered Curtis.
"I suppose they're like those. Anyway, I'm familiar with them, but not very good. I've always been more interested in visual art. Theatre, filmmaking, photography, and the like. I was able to concentrate on my photography a lot when I was serving on Fruna, while the Galaxy was undergoing reconstruction. I haven't done anything with it since I've come back aboard. I haven't even unpacked it," Cutter said, trailing off. He sat, staring at the PADD that still lay to the side of his tray.
Curtis noticed his sullen, contemplating face. "Why not?" he asked.
The Fruna'lin's head jerked up to look at Curtis, his thought broken by the question. "I work," was his only answer.
"All day?" Curtis asked, not satisfied with the glib response.
That feathered left brow began to rise up Cutter's forehead once more, as if the question was rediculous. "Well, I eat, sleep and bathe, if that is what you're asking. But, yes, my work takes up a lot of time. I not only have to manage all the astronomy and physics labs and work with OPS to obtain enough resources for their experiments, which requires that I be aware of the goal and progress of all the experiments, but I have several ongoing research projects of my own. I have to be aware of the experiments happening in the other scientific departments, keep up with advancements by other scientists in the Federation, read and file reports, and so forth."
Curtis let out a descending whistle. "Wow. Look, you shouldn't push yourself to hard. Its unhealthy, and ultimately counter-productive. You're going to get bored and tired, find it hard to concentrate, which will make you want to work harder to keep up, and you'll get caught in a downward spiral until you just burn out. Believe me, I taught at the academy for awhile. I've seen many a student become workaholics and fall into this black hole; many of them dropped out and left school. I think that if you take a break every now and then, your work and efficiency will improve. Work during work hours and have fun in your off hours or you'll collapse."
Cutter sat back in his chair. His wings fluttered behind him and his face indicated that he obviously disagreed. He didn't say anything, though, he just thought about the advice for a while. Eventually, his face softened and he gave a half shrug. "Perhaps you're right."
Curtis took another bite and nodded his agreement while he chewed. "You should come to the holodeck with me sometime," he offered, "I'd love to see Fruna."
The avian shrugged apathetically. "All right, if you pick a time and give me enough notice."
"Sounds good then. I'll check and see when I can free
up some time and let you know." Curtis said.
Just for you, Liam. The post is riddled with television, movie and 80's music references. Can you pick them out?
****
PAIN! Gasping, groping pain that made your heart shake with a chill only a Kelvan could feel. Over the past several days, Kylar had been subjected to a barrage of emotion and physical tests that went beyond his endurance. Only his alien physiology had saved him from certain death at the hands of the Klingon.
It was a weakness he exuded when he had associated with Kragg. He was drawn to the older Klingon like a moth to a flame, attracted by his shared persecution among inferiors and pushed out of evolutions way. Curran had been blinded to the truth, and nearly paid for it with his life. He felt a strange emotion. The humans called it 'guilt', from what he read about. It was a ball jammed into the gut of his stomach, pushing rings of strange feeling up his spine to rush to his head and leave him in a dazed foglike trance when he was alone with his thoughts crashing down on him.
Who would've seen the future shock his interactions would impact on him as a result of his long discussion on the methods of murderer used with Kragg?
The Klingon had hidden his acts of insanity from him with well-practiced talent. Their intelligence corps would need more watching if he were any example of their techniques.
Curran lay shivering in his quarters, recuperating from his wounds inflicted by the divine scion. Corgan had delivered him to sickbay when he couldn't carry himself. It was unfortunate he hadn't died, for now that damned human was probably gloating over the Kelvan's moment of weakness in having to depend on another for survival. Kelvan's do NOT need anyone's help! He held even more contempt for the Security Chief for not respecting his walk in the fields of purgatory. Now his last test would have to wait.
He will not be wrapped around anyone's finger! That is why he had not returned to Sickbay. If he was meant to live, it would be by his own account, not by any human dictating the path of life. He will not be weakened by having any non-Kelvan hands probe his innards. He had begun his journey into the vast wilderness to determine his right to live. It was the Kelvan way. An invalid was useless to the state.
So, he suffered.
For the last 3.7 hours, he'd be attempting to enter his vision quest, a tranquil state he sunk himself into to facilitate his recuperation by focussing all his energies on stitching wounds, sealing broken blood vessels, send the lifeblood of existence throughout his slowly beating organs.
Yet, he was unable to drop past the line of conscious into the borderline of subconsciousness. He couldn't focus. His agitation at being manipulated aggravated his attempts. Malgin had also injected sedatives into his body, which were inducing sleep on him. Sleep would not cure his wounds. It would only kill him, and he would not die with open arms, defenseless.
He struggled to rise from his bunk, the flatness and rigidity of which he felt in his battered and bruised back. Wrapping his arm around his newly mended ribs, he carried himself with stunted pride over to the replicator he'd been able to acquire from requisitions specifically for the Liaison Officer. With added credentials and security clearance, he was able to acquire items of a more... cautious nature that the average Starfleet officer could not.
"Computer..." He gasped, flecks of dried blood still adhering to his thinly stained lips. "I am in need of a Central Nervous System stimulant suitable for a Kelvan physiology." He coughed and wiped away a spot of blood with a kerchief as a vial materialized in the alcove.
"Give me something hot to wash it down, computer."
"NO SOUP FOR YOU!!!" (Seinfield Soup Nazi!)The replicator whirred and shut down. He reached out and grasped the vial, popping it open without reading the label, shaking out a pair of the greyish-white pills and downing them without water down his dry, cracked throat. The rough edges on them scraped their way down, and he had to rub his throat to get encourage their journey through his system.
He limped his way back to his cot, throwing the vial of a half-dozen capsules somewhat angrily on a dresser as he passed, bouncing off the surface to careen off the wall behind and roll under his cot as it tumbled to the floor. He forced himself to lay down with eyes closed, penetrating the veil of haze that hung over his inner eye, and searching for tranquility.
Thirty minutes later is when the effects began to set in. Sensations heightened, he felt his blood pump, and the pain began to reside. The feeling of sleepfulness faded away, to be replaced with a sense of strength and restlessness.
Kylar swung his feet off the cot and tenderly tested his leg by rising easily on it. No pain. He peered down at his bruises where Kragg had taken the boots to him, and his ribs were now healing through the bandages the Sickbay crew had wrapped on him. Tearing off the bandages, the wounds were still a sickly purple. He touched the tender area, expecting a wince of pain... but nothing.
Literally nothing. He couldn't feel his fingers poking the area of injury. At all. He peered at the tips of the sinewy hands he raised to eye level. He touched the tips, and couldn't feel them, but the reddened glow around his eyes had disappeared. He raised an eyebrow and felt an oncoming rush of energy flow through his body. A tingled sensation that ran through his arms, legs, fingers and toes, to gather momentum in a combined onslaught on his head. He stumbled, blinking away the stars that made him feel like floating... and the flash was gone, to be replaced by a sustained feeling of strength and confidence.
He smiled, flexing his unfeeling fingers, and is eyes glinted. He had beaten the plague that surged through his body! Nothing could stop him, now. Not even a feeble-minded Klingon! Certainly not Brhode...
Anger built up within him. Anger brought on by his forced suppression. The knots within him needed to be loosened up, and quickly. This 'guilt' needed to be dealt a crushing blow, and pulverized beyond all ability to return.
He pulled on his black apparel he used for intense physical exercise without feeling, donned black gloves. He needed to take advantage of this lack of feeling and devastate those that questioned a Kelvan's commitment. He had been invited to a medieval tournament he supposed - Dungeons and Dragons.
Sounded like a bloodletting, which was precisely what he needed. He would crush his enemies and see them driven before him! He would hear the lamentations of the women as he drank the blood of their mates. They WILL bow before him! (Combo of Conan and Dr Evil...;))
"Sir? I think we've run into a problem?"
"A problem?" Cutter asked, looking away from his respective computer terminal. Astrometrics was filled with the senior physicists, astronomers, engineers and computer programmers under his command. Each person was busy setting up the laboratory and preparing the computers to analyze the odd subspace signal the ship had received. Dr. Quick had incredibly been able to come up with a reasonable model for the source of the signal -- that it was 'bobbing' in and out of their 4-dimensional space-time plane. And with that model, Cutter was able to come up with a method to decipher it.
Lt. Daniel Scarborough held out the PADD with the circuit diagrams designed by Cutter that he was supposed to create. After Cutter had taken the device, Daniel folded his arms while one hand reached up to stroke his chin. He turned to stare back at disemboweled computer he had been working on. A section of the wall in the lab had been removed. Beneath it lay a transparent tissue of monocrystal beryllium silicate with countless veins of molybdenum-jacketed waveguide conduits snaking across it. In several spots, the waveguides would meet and flow into a bio-neural gel pack or a rack of isolinear optical chips which would take the incoming data, process it and pump it back out along the network like hearts pumping the blood of life. On the floor lay scattered chips, spare wiring and the instruments that carved them from the main body. Soon, Daniel would replace these materials, in a different order, like a mad doctor trying to genet! ically engineer the perfect creature.
"If, uh, if I place ISC34027-D in the, uh, lessee, two, three ... in the fourth node, and switch chips 38-A and B, like you said, uhh....here," he indicated, pointing to one of the drawings on the PADD, "then, uh, then, uh, there's a feed back loop and the circuit fries. I, I tried running the signal through ... um, 38-B only, but then there's a phase shift and part of the data is canceled out. I don't know what to do."
Cutter suffered through all the sounds and half-words Daniel stuttered out and carefully picked out the necessary information that described the problem. Cutter could speak English, but to him it was a second language (technically, it was his fourth). All of Daniel's verbal stumbling made him quite difficult to follow.
Cutter hummed as he looked over his instructions, "Sem, you're right. I suppose I missed that. Let's go look at it."
Daniel nodded and led his colleague over to the removed paneling. He pointed to the area he was working on as Cutter knelt down and took up a micro soldering iron. "The signal needs to flow from chip B to A, but obviously there needs to be a dampening filter somewhere in the line," Cutter stated, staring at the machinery before him. "Did you try rerouting through here," he asked, pointing to a nameless junction of waveguides and subprocessors.
"Um," Daniel stalled, tracing through a circuit in front of him with his hand, "No." He watched Cutter make the necessary adjustments, severing some connections and attaching others. After a few moments, Daniel spoke up, "What do you think the source is?"
"Source? Oh, I don't know. I assume its a rare, but naturally occurring phenomena, if that's what you're asking. The source is in the direction of the Tholian Holdfast; that area of space has been known to have interphasic properties." Cutter said, finishing his work. "Could you modify the frequency of the signal input so I can lock down the phase setting?"
"I suppose your right. It's, it's probably natural. But, the transmission was quite complex. Uh, do you think its possible that the source could be, um, artificial?" he asked. Daniel knelt down behind Cutter and reached around his right wing to apply a band runner to the isolinear chip. His nose was only a few inches the Fruna'lin's wing. The two men were unaware, but natural waterproofing dust particles were rising slowly from the feathered limb carried by flowing air into the human scientist's nostrils. The landed softly on the nasal tissue; their presence was strongly unwanted, and instantaneously, a histamine reaction started to build.
Cutter shrugged, "I don't know. I suppose anything is possible," he responded. "It's not working," he stated soon after, referring to the circuit they constructed, and fired up the soldering iron to undo what he had done.
It was at this moment that Daniel's allergies decided to attack. After a couple of failed attempts to hold it in, Daniel was overpowered and erupted with a deafening sneeze. Cutter jumped at both the noise near his ear and Daniel's convulsion, causing his arm to flail across the circuitboards in front of him. When the chaos subsided, he stared at the damage that was caused.
The soldering iron melted a visible streak into the silicate casing, fusing together several previously isolated wires. Hours of work was potentially ruined by one stray sneeze. Daniel quickly grabbed a tricorder and scanned the mess. Slowly, a smile crept over his lips. He turned to Cutter and simply giggled a bit before saying, "Uh, you, uh ... hah! You fixed it. It works now."
Cutter grabbed the tricorder from Daniel's hands. He couldn't believe it, but the iron's random burn happened to do whatever it was they couldn't think of doing. The circuit was finished, and the mysterious signal could now be decoded. "Here! Replace this panel. We can start the program."
Daniel nodded and quickly began cleaning his mess. Cutter rushed back to his computer terminal and finished what he was working on before Daniel interrupted him, then almost ran to the primary interface. Daniel was there seconds after, and every other officer in the room were at their stations just as quickly.
Cutter initialized the analysis program, and the signal began to play out before them. The main viewing screen displayed the frequency for all to see. The computer was quickly able to separate the seemingly random pulses into three distinct transmissions, two modulated, while the third remained steady.
"Modulating bands and a carrier frequency!" Daniel said excitedly. His face beamed with delight; his theory had proven to be correct. The signal was in fact artificial, nature didn't send modulating bands on a carrier wave.
"Sem. Its hard to tell because of the headlight effect, but it appears to be a duotronic transmission," Cutter added, interpreting the data as it became available.
"Doutronics? Duotronics hasn't been used in over a hundred years." Daniel began to check Cutter's results in disbelief.
A scientist behind the two said, "There's no reason to believe other species are as up to date as the Federation. Or, perhaps its just an old cargo ship that's never made the upgrade. It's unlikely, but possible."
"If it's some form of communication, then it probably repeats itself. If so, we may be able to reconstruct the transmission, despite the headlight beaming preventing some of the signal from ever reaching us," a young female Vulcan to Cutter's right said.
She quickly set to work to piece together the message in some sensical order. "I believe I have it," she said, turning to face Cutter.
He nodded, indicating that she play it. Suddenly, of a series of bips, high pitched squeals, silent hisses and low humming began to play from the lab's hidden speakers. Everyone in the room cringed at the discord.
Daniel tore his gaze away from the output screen in front of him and looked at Cutter, "Its encoded. The computer recognizes it. Its Starfleet."
"Lieutenant Kara'nin to Lieutenant Black. Could you please report to Astrometrics? We've been able to analyze the signal; it's an encoded Starfleet transmission
From the top of her bunk, Ella Grey watched in fascination.
Her roommate, Indigo Renkert, was giving a new meaning to the term 'found-art.' In her boredom, the young ensign had decided to build a sculpture out of random objects lying around their quarters. The balancing act was nearly halfway to the roof, it's teetering pile of shoes, pencils, computer PADD's, a love-doll she had picked up on Risa, candy wrappers, a beaten bar of wannabee gold-press latinum, scrunchie hair ties, and lipsticks somehow managing to stay in place as Indigo proceeded to adorn it with colored paper clips for hair.
She said it looked like a person and had decided to name the person Benny.
Ella shook her head, her lips curving in spite of herself. Never in all her years of boredom had she ever thought of anything close to Benny.
Perhaps if she'd had this kind of an imagination when she was younger, things would have turned out a lot differently. Her smile broadened as she envisioned what HER sculpture would look like, probably created using her parent's silk bedsheets, sherry glasses, and reproduced fine art.
They would probably have disowned her. At least she would have gotten to the Academy quicker.
She stopped the silliness, however, when Indigo eyed her antique cigarette lighter and then threw a speculative glance in the direction of the junk figure. Ella was all for the arts but didn't want to see her quarters go up in flames because Indigo was feeling creative. She clapped her hands to get her roommate's attention, typed a few words on her PADD, and tossed the note down to Indigo.
The ensign read it and looked back up at Ella with a sheepish grin. "I wasn't seriously gonna light it on fire." Indigo said. "At least not inside."
Ella hopped down from the bunk, her feet making a soft thud on the carpet, without thinking about it. Both of them turned to where Benny the Junk-Man still stood. Indigo let out a sigh of relief. "Not that I really care, Ella." She said. "But I did just waste an hour of my life making that. So where did you want to go?"
Ella shrugged.
Indigo gave the matter some thought, biting lightly on her painted red-black lips. She had also decided to re-dye her hair to match and was wearing a strange pink jumper with black and orange stitching. Ella was still in her uniform. "Well, there's this holodeck program I wanted to run. It's a spacecraft shoot'um up game my friend designed for me." Indigo suggested.
Ella hesitated but then decided it would be alright as long as Indigo was in there with her to call for the arch. Ella gave the girl two thumbs up and waited while Indigo searched for the paper she had scribbled the name of the program on.
* * * * *
She sat in the cockpit, her arms crossed, and watched as Indigo began to dip toward the yellow space buoy again. Ella pointed as a warning and then partially sighed, grabbed hold of something sturdy, and braced for impact....again.
It came quickly, rocking the both of them back and forth while happyyou-are-now-dead music played in the background. Ella was becoming annoyed. She knew that Indigo was new to this game, and perhaps to flying shuttles as well, but honestly. They hadn't even cleared the runway yet! Indigo was also becomming frustrated, she could tell. The girl swore up a storm as she somehow managed to turn the ship around to fire her laser cannons at the offensive buoy. It exploded into little yellow bits. Too bad that technically they were dead so it wasn't as if it did any good. Indigo slumped in her seat. "This program sucks" she pouted.
Ella gestured to the pilot's chair and Indigo happily surrendered it to her.
She looked at the panel, which was really nothing more than five buttons and what was refered to as a 'joystick.' Apparently, the program's designer had believed in low-tech. Ella pushed the large red start button, stepped on the gas pedal (strange for this kind of program), and experimentally edged the ship forward with the joystick. When she was satisfied that she wasn't going to fly straight into anything, Ella motioned for Indigo to hold on. Indigo barely had time to strap herself in before the shuttle took off at full speed, racing straight for the heart of the alien army.
"Wow." Indigo said as Ella simply dogged the first few alien fighters and then blasted the next advancing squad into smithereens. Ella shrugged. She had enjoyed flying at the Academy, been fairly decent acutally, but had desired to be an engineer more. Still, it was fun to watch the little ships poof into green flames and the program played loud cheers when she did so.
Which was why it was so dissapointing when her comm badge beeped and a nervous voice came over. "Uh...En..Ensign Grey. You're needed in Engineering."
Damn, she thought. I was close to blowing up the Alien Command Center.
Ella gestured for Indigo to freeze the program and then snapped twice near her comm badge. It was a sort of system she had worked out with most in Engineering. Generally, two snaps meant 'yes' or 'understood' while three meant 'no' or 'repeat.' Of course, today she managed to get the one person who didn't seem to know the system. "Uh...Ensign?" the voice asked.
"She'll be right there." Indigo piped up.
~~Thank you~~ Ella signed to her. It was the one sign her roomate knew.
Indigo shrugged. "Just tell me quickly how to fly this thing straight."
*Somewhere in a Dark Backroom of an Unnamed location on the Prominade*
"UUUuuhhhh.....ooooh...p...please...."
"Teehehehehehehee..."
"OOOOhhh... I cant believe this....."
"Neither can I....Oooooooooo How do you DO that?!"
"It's really quite simple I...OOOOOOOO...." There was a clang as a piece of metal clattered against the deck plating.
"Hehehehehehe I got you there..."
"Now I've gotta go get it..."
"Not while I'm here you don't!"
The female came around from the back of the chair and sat forcabley into the Ferengi's lap, all the while massaging his ears.
"This is the greatest Oo-mox, I have ...." he gasped sharply as the dabbo dealer stroked a tender part of his lobe. "Ooohhh.....m.....my...."
"You will see that i am not only trained in the arts of Oo-mox, but I am trained in a few different disciplines of it." She smiled widely and lowered her naked breast to his chin and embraced his head. Slowly she began to lick hungily at the back of his ears, and Crom let loose a muffled scream into her bosom. She nibbled at his lower lobes, and the Ferengi began to quiver slightly. She gentle raked her fingernails along the outer edges of his ears and traced ever shrinking circles upon them until she got to the inner ear. She gently took his ear hairs into her mouth and began to spin them slowly with her tongue. Crom was practically shrieking into her chest with pleasure and lust. He reached around and grabbed her by he cheeks and held her tighter, she responded by playing with his ear hair a little harder and faster.
The lady slowly gathered up her clothes and smiled gently at Crom. "So, Do we have a deal?"
"You know, I never liked a woman in clothing. It's just so....disgusting!"
"Don't worry, I wont put them on until you leave." She gave him a look and slid across the floor to him. Sitting on her knees giving him the fullest view she could, she seductively moved her hands up her body and then back down her very cut stomache. Crom followed her hands with her eyes, and spotted the piece of latinum he dropped earlier right between her legs on the floor. Crom smiled and stood up and took a step closer to her, and slowly fell down to his knees and placed his hand on her thigh. "MMMmmmmmmm, dont just keep those talented fingers there."
He slowly massaged her thigh and worked his way up her leg, and cupped his hand around the underside. "We have a deal." He shot his hand up beside his face with the piece of latinum and held it at eye level. She laughed.
"Oh, you are SO Precious."
"I know"
<OOC: Well, there we have it. Love him, Hate him...too bad, he's here.....>
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