USS
Galaxy:The Next Generation Sim Log Stardate: 50301.09 - 50301.16 |
"Now what do we have here, Yokachee?" Laughing Horse Log rumbled,
his voice rhaspy and scraping like the shound of a shovel atop a casket. The
flash of lightning played across the eyes of Raven's older brother, lending
him a dangerous look.
Falling Waters instinctively took a step away from the large indian. "Log..." she began, "It's not what you think."
"Oh? Is that so, Waters?" the large man said, tilting his head. Rain pounded against his face, yet he didn't so much as flinch. There was one thing about his brother that Raven knew to be a sign of danger - when Log was standing nearly motionless.
Feeling things begining to reel out of control, Darkstar stepped foreward. "Log, leave her alone. You don't understand...we have to get out of here now. if we don't. Falling Waters will die."
Again, no sound came out of the boy's throat.
Log wasn't hearing him. He had his hawks gaze locked on the woman.
"For weeks you and I have been close, Waters. And now, I find you here...and with my own brother of all people? You betrayed me. You both have betrayed me." he said, his voice somehoe carrying over the thunderclaps that boomed overhead.
"Log, leave her alone!' the young Darkstar screamed.
Still no sound fell from his lips.
"Please..Log..if I have misled you in any way I am sorry. I like you..I do, but just not in the way that you want me to." Falling Waters pleaded, moving closer and closer to the ledge of the cliff face in an effort to get away from the still motionless Log.
"If you have misled me? You who have given me the flowers..the painted deerskin? The afternoons spent together at the waterfalls..meaningless. Nothing. You were instead using me to get closer to my own brother." Laughing Horse Log said calmly, then exploded into a scream. "MY OWN BROTHER!!"
Darkstar sprung into motion. He moved with a fluid grace to bring himself between Log and Waters. The older brother mistaking the charge for an attack twisted with practiced ease and brought a large forearm sharply across the back of his brothers head, dropping the boy into the mud.
"MY BROTHER! MY VERY BLOOD BETRAYING ME SO!! AND NOW WHEN CONFRONTED WITH HIS SHAME, HE CHOOSES TO BRING DISHONER UPON US FURTHER BY ATTACKING LIKE A COWARDLY CUR!!!" Log snarled, spit flying from his mouth.
Darkstar growled and wiped his face.
"OUR ANCESTORS TURN THIER BACKS UPON YOU!!" Log screamed, looming over his brother. Darkstar shot up from the ground, his fist coiled back then shot out and connected with his brothers face.
The suprised log staggered back. Blood trickled from his nose and down his chin in a long thin stream, before finally landing on the ground.
Thunder boomed over head and the sky suddenly bloomed into a dark crimson. The rain water that had pelted down upon them all had suddenly turned thick and red, streaking down thier bodies as if flowing from an unseen wound.
Again lightning crashed through the sky.
And in a spectacle of savage and primal fury, Log and Darkstar attacked one another. Fists flying through the air and slamming into the other with a shuddering impact again and again as if carring out a lethal ballet of violence.
Long moments passed until finally both combatants, battered, bruised and bloody - paused from exhaustion.
Raven looked around.
Falling Waters was gone.
"W..w..waters....." he ghasped, suprised to finally hear his own voice.
Log, lying back upon his knees looked about the hilltop and then a grim realization swept over the both of them. They clawed thier way through the red soaked mud to the edge of the cliff and peered across the edge.
Below them, just a few feet Falling Waters was clinging to the edge of the cliff. Her fingers franticlly clutching a jagged outcropping of rock.
"Help me.." she said softly.
The two men lunged over the edge and clawed towards the woman. Raven's arms were slightly longer than his brothers and he was able to grab hold of her slender wrist.
"I have you." Darkstar said, spitting blood from his mouth. Log braced himself against a nearby tree and wrapped his muscular arms around his brother's waist, anchoring him.
"I will pull you up. Do not let go." Log ordered through gritted teeth.
"Hurry!" Raven screamed. Log heaved mightily and slowly hoisted the two up towards safety.
"Your slipping!! Grab my arm!" Raven yelled to Falling Waters who had begun to loose her grip on the indian's hand. The woman screamed.
The flesh upon the womans beautiful face began to rot again, this time peeling back to reveal a gray and mottled skull. Her eyes withered and fell leaving the grim mask of death looking back upon them both.
"PULL US UP NOW!!" Raven screamed and with a terrible cry, Log pulled the two with everything he had left. He felt a searing pain shoot through his chest as his bicep tore. Still he pulled.
"NOOOOOOOO!!!" Raven screamed horsely as he looked into Falling Waters ravaged face as her hand slipped from his.
She screamed as she fell to her death below.
Darkstar could only stare as log hauled him up and tossed him into the mud, then peered over the side of the canyon, and shouted in anguish. Exhausted, Log turned to look at his brother. Contempt was dripping from his very pores.
The younger indian only cried, repeating "I'm sorry" over and over. He ran into the woods aimlessly, crashing through the branches before slipping in the mud and sliding into the nearby river.
The muddy water engulfed him, filling his lungs. His body felt odd. A fimiliar yet strange sensation. He pushed to the surface and for the second time found himself surging out of the waters....
.....of Leo Streely's hot tub.
The little man screamed like a girl at the sight of the large indian suddenly appearing out of thin air from beneath the thick sheet of bubbles that he had been frolicking in only moments ago.
"Jesus Christ on a chariot drivin crutch!!!! What the hell are you doin?" Streely yelled as Darkstar flopped onto the tiled floor. "I knew you were some kind of pervert, but this is beyond perverted! Someone call in Karen Dallas because you have some serious issues!!!"
Reaching blindly for a towel, Raven grabbed a men's magazine and wiped his face upon it uncerimoniusly - much to Leo's chagrin.
"Where..where am I?" the indian asked.
"Your in my damn bathroom bubya goon, and you have a little explainin to do, ya hear me?" Streely screetched. "Jesus what if I were entertaining the Bolian twins, or that cutie from engineering. Hell, even that Candy from the bar. Sure she's uglier than a bag of assholes, but still..ugly girls need lovin too..."
"Leo..." Raven said quietly, trying to compose himself.
"What?! What do you need..apart from the hours and hours of counseling to get you over this strange voyeristic fettish you have?"
"Shut up..please shut up. I need to clear my head for a moment."
“. . . . . ittle tea pot, short and stout. . . .this is my handle. . . .this is my spout.” The insane childish singing of the Galaxy Transporter Chief slowly faded into existance along with the rest of the familiar 24th Century surroundings.
Every one of the battered away team members breathed a little
sigh of relief to find themselves home again. Maybe the ship was running rampant
with crazy people. . . . but at least here the walls were not trying to eat
you like on
the Defiant.
With a groan the bloodied husk of James Corgan sank to the floor startling the four women.
“James!!” Lexa shrieked in worry. “I’ve got to get him to sickbay. . . .I’m a trained doctor and I can. . . .”
“No.” Rebecca von Ernst interrupted with a single word.
“But. . .but he’s dying, Rebecca. . .He needs. . .”
“I . . .I said no. . .Lieutenant C. . .c. . .c. .commander.” Rebecca repeated, stuttering but firm. “ I. . I need you on the b. . .bridge.”
Turning to Rose Mac Allen, and the Vulcan security officer T’Lan ( who was arguable the strongest of the group except for her own injuries) she ordered.
“You two get a h. .h ..hover-stretcher out of the transporter room supply closet and get Corgan up to Sickbay. . . .be aware that you will start to s. . s. s..suffer from the same insanity the rest of the crew is dealing with so hurry. Once there activate all the EMH p . p . programs and let them do their work.”
“When I get heated. . . .hear me shout. . . . .tip me over. . . .pour me out. . . “ The insane singing continued.
It was then a new blue sparkle appeared on the Transporter Pad and Lieutenant Donovan Black and his party faded into view.
Rebecca was relieved to see more survivors from the Defiant.
“Lieutenant!” she beckoned. “I n . . .n . n. eed you with me as w . w. . well.” ~~~Noodles why cant I stop stuttering!~~~
"Aye ma'am," Donovan said, stepping down from the platform. Turning to Lieutenant JG T'Lan, "Get another hover stretcher and get Lieutenant' Remur to sickbay as well. I'd hate to lose her." Turning back to Commander Von Ernst, he finished, "I'm ready." He noticed that Rebecca was stuttering.
Turning back to Lexa Rebecca frowned, “I’m sorry Lex. . .b. . .but we’re in a combat situation and I need all the Department heads I can get to b .b. b. . back me up..”
Quickly shucking aside her bloody EVA suit helmet, Rebecca took up the lead by charging out of the transporter room towards the nearest turbolift. Black and Reece were not far behind.
They were barely two corridors over when their worst fears were confirmed. Captain John Q Brhode and Commander Karyn Dallas were waling down the hall together each chatting insanely to themselves taking no notice of their surroundings or each other.
The three officers watched in silence as they passed. The Captain blathering on about Christmas-something or other, and the Counselor prattling on about an invisible toy doll, and how her daddy loved her. . . .
“N. . n. . noodles. . .they’re totally out of it. . .we’ve got to get control of this ship before we lose it too.”
Rebecca was still wearing the odd spaghetti-strainer ‘hat’ that Quick had given her, but she did not fully trust in its abilities to protect the wearer from interphasic madness.
A quick turbolift ride later, and the doors hissed aside to deposit the three officers on the bridge.
Ops and Helm were playing Paddy-cake down near the viewscreen,
the new officer at Tactical was scribbling graffitti on her console and a madly
grinning Lysander was atop the Command Chair imperiously like some grand
emperor of old.
“Prepare to fire Pulsed Phaser Cannon at those Tholian Blackhearts!!!” he raved. “Avast ye scurvy Crystal Dogs. . . .I’ll keel-haul the lot of you!!”
“B. . Belay that order.” Rebecca gasped. “S . .s .s.stand down all weapons, Black if you please. . .go to Yellow alert.”
"Yes, ma'am." Donovan said, quietly stooping to remove the pen from the hands of Ensign Thorne, who had been scribbling randomly on the console. Working quickly, Donovan locked out all weapon systems for all personnel except for himself and Commander Von Ernst.
Lysander stuck his lower lip out in a pout. “You cant do that freckle-face! I’m King here! Now scoot before I paddle your skinny little rump for such insolence.”
In spite of herself, Rebecca found herself blushing, but she had no time for that nonsense.
“Computer. . . .Initiate Command Override verification sequence. Authorization Rebecca : Fluffy Noodles Sugar-Puff Omega.“
=/\=Identified von Ernst, Commander Rebecca Catherine.. . .Command Override Sequence open. Proceed.=/\=
Taking a breath Rebecca let it all out in a rush, “Under the provisions of Starfleet article 192 pertaining to a critical combat situation, I hereby declare Captain John Q Brhode, and Commander Lysander van der Puls Hawklsley temporarily unfit for duty and as such assume full command of USS Galaxy. .. .this stardate. Acknowledge.”
=/\= Acknowledged. . . Change of Command requires the consent of either the Chief Medical Officer, Chief Counselor, or two Departmental Chief before certification. =/\=
Rebecca frowned. She had seen with her own eyes that the Chief Counselor was out of it, and more than likely Doctor Malgin was insane to begin with. . . . .
She turned to look at Lexa and Donovan. . . . .Chiefs of Ops and Tactical respectively.
"How many senior department chiefs do you need?" Black asked, knowing fullwell that Malgin was too unreliable to hope that he was not crazy at the moment.
Rebecca looked pointedly at Donovan and Electra. Ops and Tactical were two of the most crucial Departments aboard the ship, and their consent would carry much weight with the computer.
~~~And the Judicial Review Board.~~~ Rebecca reminded herself.
In invoking the seldom used Article 192, Rebecca was opening up her actions to an automatic court marshal and possible severe prison sentence.
Staaarfleet long ago realized that there were going to be occasions where a Junior Officer may be in posse4sion of some vital piece of information that while crucial, was unable to be acted upon by the Captain of a vessel.
The 192 provision allowed such an officer to take temporary emergency actions necessary to safeguard the ship and crew, however the potential legal fallout afterwards was perilous at best.
Mutiny was another term for an illegal 192.
The choice, as it were was up to Electra and Donovan.
"Computer, recognize Lieutenant Donovan Cassius Black. Authorization Black : Callimachus Alpha Icarus Omega." Black said to the computer.
=/\= Recognized, Black, Lieutenant Donovan Cassius.=/\= The Computer intoned. =/\=Does Lieutenant Black concur with declaring Bhrode, John Q, unfit for duty?=/\=
"I do." Donovan replied, "Captain Bhrode hasn't been on the bridge for hours, and we're in a combat situation. The Bhrode that I know would never leave the bridge."
Lexa cleared her throat next. “Computer Recognize Lt Commander Electra Reece. Authorization: Enigma Two four, Epsilon Prime.”
=/\=Recognized Reece, Lieutenant Commander Electra. Does Lt Commander Reece concur with Declaring Brhode, John Q unfit for duty?=/\=
Lexa frowned. “Of course. I saw the man singing Christmas carols down on Deck 7. He’s totally unfit.”
=/\=Acknowledged. Initiate final sequence for Article 192 Provisions.=/\=
Rebecca grimaced. This was the part she had particularly dreaded, especially after her recent Defiant-induced visions of the future.
“Computer. . .A. . .a.a .activate the Emergency Command hologram.” She said.
There was only the barest of delays before four holoprojectors
in the corners of bridge snapped to life, and a slim forty-ish woman wearing
a Starfleet uniform of Deepest black, and robed about with a cloak of knee
length red hair appeared in the middle of the bridge.
“Please state the nature of the Command Emergency.” She/it said emotionlessly.
~~~Momma.~~~ Rebecca thought inwardly as she did everytime she saw the abomination that was the ECH. In her minds eye she replayed the horrible Defiant-vision of her mother being ravished by a demonic Lysander and shuddered.
“A. .a. a..article 192 provisions in place.” She managed. “Awaiting final confirmation.”
The Holli-Gram (SO named for Rebecca’s mother Holli von Ernst) took barely a moment to consider this.
“Computer,” it said. “ECH review of ship’s internal sensors reveal Bhrode, Captain John Q, and Hawksley, Commander Lysander van der puls, behaving in manner inconsistent with recorded norms. ECH determines suffcient grounds for Article 192 change of Command exists. Fianl Authorization granted.”
It was kind of odd. . . .The Computer ECH casting its own vote with the Main Computer over the issue. Consulting itself as it were, but it was done.
=/\=Acknowledged final sequence. USS Galaxy is under temporary Command of Commander von Ernst for duration of Emergency.=/\=
A final twiddle of beeps sealed the bargain Rebecca had just made with the devil. If she was worng, her career. . . her life was over. 15 to 20 years minimum.
She wasted not a second thinking of it. “Lexa, on Ops. Black, see if you can wrestle helm away from Ensign Smith there. Full about 180 and Engage at Warp 9!”
"Aye, Commander." Donovan said, vaulting the tactical arch and landing nimbly next to the command chair. Taking a moment to check his balance, he walked over and swiftly removed Ensign Smith from the Helm. Siting down, he brought the USS Galaxy about and accelerated at full impulse. Bringing the warp engines to full, he turned to Rebecca.
"Commander, ready for Warp 9.9 on your mark." he said, fingers paused over the authorization button.
"Engage."
Turning to the ECH who stood by silently without comment, Rebecca said. “Momma. . .er. . .ECH, monitor me for signs of erratic behavior and possible mental illness. If necessary assume Command and take us to nearest Starbase. Acknowledge.”
The Holli-Gram didn’t miss a beat. “I will monitor von Ernst, Commander Rebecca Cathereine for signs of mental instability. If requirements met, I will assume Command and guide USS Galaxy to Starbase 172 at maximum Warp.”
“Right.” Rebecca breathed a sigh of relief, watching the starfield on the viewscreen explode into tiny streaks as the Galaxy moved to Warp. She slumped into the Command Chair, ignoring Lysander who was making silly-faces at her from her left. “That’s just perfect.”
For the Galaxy, the danger was over. . . .but the nightmares were about to begin.
Floundering through the light at speed unattainable through human motion, James found himself going frighteningly to and endpath where he didn't know what to expect. Reason was gone, the guide/voice that came to him. He was lost, alone, and he had no control.
Rapidly, the light tunnel was coming to a close. Like an inpenetrable barrier being errected, more dazzling rightness came to block the path. It was coming fast, faster than Corgan could move.
And instantly, he felt a crack upon impact. Then, darkness.
There was nothing but darkness, but a hint of red light trying to pierce a canopy. His head felt dizzy, his mouth was dry, and his ears were ringing as the sound of monitors and machinery clicked and beeped in his general direction.
James tried to wriggle his tongue. It was there, and whole! He distinctly remembered being in deep pain, especially in the mouth. The vacuum felt like a flash fry. The aching pain was still there, in all his joints, in his eardrums, and in his eyes as even the dull red light was hard enough to focus on.
Braving whatever was going to follow. James slowly opened his eyes...
And the light that washed over them stung them deeply. He forced them close again, and slowly, cautiously, let his eyes adjust to the light before keeping them open.
He was back in sickbay, staring up at the all too familiar roof. His arms, legs, and torso was under a biobed scanner. Over his body, a protective blanket was shrouded over him. His skin felt tingly. Dermalplast regenerative bandages were patched onto his body, pumping warmth through him.
"Jesus Christ." His throat crackled as he spoke, "What the frag happened to me?"
Like an all too familiar ceiling of sickbay, there was one more all too familiar thing that always greeted anybody, brave enough to enter the place. "I am not Jesus Christ, I am much, much worse guy, but I have two things that make me look-alike him. First - I can resurrect people, second - I will always be alive, even when anybody think that I am dead and buried. Mr. Jimmy Corgan, you know, I always wanted to tell you that you're an idiot, but almost never had anything to prove this point of view. Now I have one. One more than serious prove of your complete dumbness."
"What would you know? You weren't even there." James rolled over to his side. His joints ached when he moved. The silky fabric that covered his semi-naked body felt like the shadow of a touch. His nerves were still rebuilding, and couldn't sense much. By god, he felt sore! In retrospect, he hated having to jump out into vacuum without an EVA suit. Besides the entities that stalked him everywhere on the ship and surrounded him on the bridge, it was a very stupid move.
James impatiently creaked, his mouth feeling like a rusted gate, "Dr. Malgin, I just been through hell and back, and you would understand if you were on the Defiant. If you were there, you would risk space vacuum too. Now, are you going to tell me what happened, or am I going to have to wait like during the Hirogen Incident?"
Vladimir gave ironic (or maybe sarcastic, or even sadistic)
smile before replying. Apparently, he thought of the best way to tell poor Security
chief of what happened to him. But in his unique manner, that always made Corgan
scream and wish he was on the other end of Universe.
"Well, Jim, as you might have known from Academy courses, vacuum is quite a cold place. Of course there is colder one, like my brain, but still - vacuum is much colder than South Pole. In case you don't know, human body, even a body of idiot like you," Malgin's finger pointed straight at Corgan's face, "cannot survive in a environment of minus 250 degrees by Celsium. You tried to do this and of course you failed. Matter of fact, you HAVE died." Vladimir emphazised word 'have', "But thanks to my unique talent of doctor, you're still alive. But if you knew what it costed to me?"
"A cortical stimulator, some dermalplast, skin cell regeneration medium, and a hot water bottle?" Chided the Security Chief.
His eyes narrowed as he paused his irritated speech, almost X-raying Corgan with his blue eyes. "Your problem has demanded me to wake up from my sleep. I thought that I could sleep at least a little bit this day, but NO. You are carried here, I am awaken by panicking nurses, and worst of all - I have to save your a$$! If I haven't given Hippocratic Oath, I'd never move a finger to save you, but..." He sighed.
"At lest I got a lot of sleep." James mirthed in reference to his coma, ~"Geez, cry me a river, @$$face."~
"Well, in any case, I returned you from the other side. I can bet you've seen the dark tunnel, yes? But I made your heart and your brain return to life, which was a f**king difficult work. Literally - you froze to death and only warmth of my personality helped ya. Now tell me how do you feel, Jimmy."
"Let me see..." 'Jimmy' noted sarcastically, "My ears are ringing. My skin's covered in dermaplast. My mouth feels like i've sucked a bag of volcanic sand, my joints hurt, I jumped out of a starship to escape from an insane entity, and worse of all... i'm being bawled out by the Chief Medical Officer. Gee, how am I supposed to feel? HUNKY DORY?!?! I feel like sh*t run over twice!" James raised his arms up in protest, and sputtered in exasperation, "Dammit, you're a doctor! Use whatever braincells you haven't oblitherated with Vodka and and think about it!"
"Jimmy, Jimmy, my dear pain in the a$$, I save your f**king a$$, already ready to hear your whining. But you continue to surprise me every second. Now, when I ask you how do you feel, you give me the answer, which is..." Malgin took almost actor's pause "Acceptable for me! Can you imagine how happy am I to hear these 'I feel like sh*t run over twice' words! They are worth all my stay aboard this God damned ship." Evil Overlord narrowed his eyes and his tone got colder "But I work my hands out and I don't even hear a sound of thanks. You know, cyanide is not that far away."
Feeling somewhat terrible, James softly rasped, "Well... thanks anyways, doc. I know you couldn't let me die. without me, you wouldn't have a challenge."
"Challenge? Phew... Admit it - you never were a challenge to me. Maybe a material for my surgical experimants few times - that's yes, but not a tiny bit of challenge. As example now - I can chew you and spit you out and you'd have nothing to reply with. You're not my challenge."
"Bullsh*t." James whispered under his breath, "You lying little..."
James sat up on the biobed. His limbs were working better, though they still ached whenever his joints moved. Dully, his mind pieced together the events that transpired. His episode on the bridge, where he and Rose found Rebecca. Then there was the jump. After that, getting off the ship was spotty at best, the memories damaged by pain and blackouts. Then there was the darkness, the memories of it being somewhat foggy. He remembered Reason. He remembered most of what she said.
Then as a random memory, the thought of the two logs he recovered popped up in his mind.
"Doc... there were two logs on my person the last I checked. Two 23rd century PADDS. They should be in working order. Do you still have them?"
"First - lay back on the bed. Movement is harm to your joints and so you will only stay here longer. You don't want it? I know. Movement of your tongue is more than enough - you know, if we'd attach dynamo-machine to your tongue, it'd produce enough energy to lift a Borg cube." Malgin giggled on his joke, which as he thought was funny, but James looked at him flatly, unimpressed. Well maybe it WAS funny, but only for him. "Concerning PADDs... Hope so, they are the security logs and the captain's log."
"Great... thanks." Corgan instinctively went for his communicator badge. When he slapped, he felt dermal bandages coursely resist his hand. His muscles ached upon impact, and he cursed himself bitterly for forgetting he was out of uniform. "Ummmm... doc? Could I press you for a favor?"
A lous sigh came in reply. Usually this sort of sighs showed that one certain Chief Medical Officer was 'near the line' and very little was still needed to make him explode with power of few megatons. "Well, what now? I thought that letting you stay alive is already a huge favour!"
"Call security if you can. Call them to bring someone down here so that those can take those PADD's to security. They're very important, and they hold clues to the Defiant's disappearance." James requested frankly, ignoring Malgin's bitter complaints.
"I'd give few years of may valuable life for them to take your f**king body with those PADDs." said Malgin, whith his eyes almost literally flashing with annoyance. Then he pushed his commbadge and gave the request.
"Doc?" James wheedled comically, "Could I ask you for another favor?"
Line was dangerously close. By shitmeter it was somewhere near 'apocalyptic shit' mark. Vladimir's face turned slight shade of red as he replied in a tone that shows that Jimmy's attempts might be harmful for himself.
"Could you bring those PADD's to me? Please? I would like a bedtime story." Corgan smiled mischevously, to get under the Doctor's rough, elephantine skin.
"I will not tell you any f**king bedtime story. Maybe only about one unlucky Security Chief, who was so unlucky to be in the cave of sickbay and, by the way, that story has NO happy end!" said Evil Doctor and quickly exited the room. However Corgan's happiness lasted shortly, as he returned few seconds later.
James graciously accepted the two heavy PADDs, put them to the side of his biobed, and activated the Security Log.
"Thank you doc..." Corgan borderlined on sickening sweet when he delivered his thank you.
"I won't forget to send the bill for rescuing, medical care and for moral wounds you inflicted to me." was the gloomy and cold reply. Malgin turned to leave the room and Corgan alone.
Just to get on his nerves, and because it was necessity, James whined, "DOC?????"
Like a hurricane, Vladimir turned 180 degrees and dashed to James' biobed, his face now in brighter shade of red. "What f**king NOW?! You want me to kill you or what? Don't worry - I can. I have so many poisons here that it will be enough to kill you thousand times! If this isn't really worth few seconds of my life - I will kill you, agreed?"
"Could you get me a glass of water?" He frowned, "My mouth feels all dry and callous. Kinda like your skin..." ~"I wonder if he knows that I can keep this up for hours? Hehehhehe... poor bastard."~
Throwing the worst examples of his dirty Russian vocabulary into Corgan, knowing that he woudn't understand them, Malgin took the glass, filled it with water and gave it to Corgan. After that, he demonstratively cleaned his hands, using Corgan's blanket.
"Thank you doc." James thanked in the same parody of a child being a little too nice, "Doc? When can I get out of here? There's some business I have to take care of."
"You'll get out of here either when you can stand on your feet. I woudn't stand you a$$ in my clean county of sickbay. That's all what I can say. Now screw away and shut up - your mouth stinks!" without listening to Corgan's further words, Malgin spit on the floor and headed to exit from room.
"What?" James asked indignantly, "You're not going to tuck me in?" He then laughed. Sickbay was going to be fun after all. Lots of cute nurses (James didn't forget that he was still single), some bedrest, some interesting reading... and most importantly, he got to bug the hell out of Dr. Malgin.
Ahhhh... the good life.
Speaking of women, James brain was hit with another triggered memory.
=/\=You will be with her on the bridge of the Defiant...=/\=
"HOLY SH*T!" James scrambled his fingers towards the security PADD. Something inside of him had to know if it was true. Hallucinations, wishful thinking, whatever the motivation was, he had to know. The message still had to be there, he hoped beyond everything. The message had to be there.
James scrolled to the last remaining logs.
Nothing.
The PADD complained of a corrupted piece of data. The message, if still there, was unreadable for the last few logs.
"No..." he frowned with disappointment, "What does that mean for me now?"
TBC.....
Getting up and swearing as she made her way across the room to her terminal, she snapped, "Ready."
The screen changed from the Federation symbol to the bridge of a Klingon warship.
Nodding to the familiar male sitting in the captain's chair, she spotted a couple of others she knew.
The captain leaned forwards, "Hello, K'Eytyanna, Daughter of Jack. I bring greetings to the wild one from House T'Mok."
"Hello, Sanar, Son of Woran. What brings you to call me?"
"This ship is currently on the way to lanjep', where we know the Galaxy is heading. I have been sent by the head of your house to bring you back to Kronos with a request. After recent events, the Klingon fleet needs to be restructured, and the major houses have designated a group to lead the restructure. You have been selected to server on the board."
"Tell my house that the answer is no."
"Sorry, K'Eytyanna, but they won't accept that. I have orders from the Chancellor himself, if you want, for you to be temporarily seconded to the Klingon Defense Forces. I doubt that Starfleet will want to go against against these. All they ask is you come and listen to the proposal. They know that holding you against your will won't work, and liable to get them ships that blow up."
Growling, Kay nodded, "If they are going to play dirty, I will come with you, but I will not guarantee that I will stay there."
TBC..
“Rebecca.. . . .I’ve missed you so. I’ve missed the way I was when I was your age. . . I miss my innocence, and my naivete.. . . . .I miss me.”
The forty year old long-haired doppelganger or Rebecca von Ernst hung silently in the swirling mists of Rebecca’s dreams. The freckle-kissed fair skin was now worn with cares and frown lines were faintly visible at the corners of thin pale lips, but the image was unmistakable Rebecca.
“Rebecca. . . .” the phantom beckoned, “I’m so alone here. . . .you don’t know what I.. . .what you had to do to become what I am. . . . .”
“You are NOT me!!!” the young Rebecca, XO of the Galaxy hissed back
at her future self, “You’re nothing like me you murdering . . .
.murdering . . . . .noodlehead!!”
The future laughed at her, a tired short lived laugh, but laughter just the same. “Oh Becky. . . .” she sighed wistfully. “You’ve no idea how long its been since I used that phrase. . . .”The phantom drifted closer now, the swirling mists cloying lovingly to the near-anorexic figure, the spray of scarlet hair (lined with premature grey) billowing about her in an invisible wind.
“You don’t know WHO you are. . . . . how can you make judgements on WHO you will become?”
“Leave me alone!!” the Present protested unsuccessfully. The haunted, leering look in her future brown eyes frightened the young woman and she found herself attempting to back away form the apparition.
Like so many nightmares however, the ability to flee was somehow absent, and she cringed as the older woman leaned in close.
“Rebecca,” the future breathed her voice sweet, but chilling on her pale throat. “Don’t leave me alone here. . . . What I had to do. . . . What you NEED to do. . . .its almost too much to bare.
Trembling, young Rebecca didn’t respond.
Stepping even closer, the elder Rebecca was actually in contact with her younger self. Her crisp futuristic uniform rustled against Rebecca’s own Commander’s uniform.
Not for the first time did the younger notice that while her twin wore the rank pins of an admiral. . . . .the familiar emblem of Starfleet was nowhere to be found.
“Ive missed you. . . .” the woman whispered. Her cool breath raising goosebumps on Rebecca’s skin. “I. . . .I cant help but. . . . “ she trailed off raising a small slender hand to caress the young freckled skin of her past. “So young. . . . so very young. . . .”
For her part Rebecca cringed, and actually let out a whimper as the thin fingers touched her face, trailing down slowly to brush her neck. ~~~Please no. ~~~ her mind protested ~~~. . .please not again. . . . .I cannot take anymore of this. . .~~~
But the re-occurring nightmare would not be denied. Like every night before in the last two weeks, the forty year old hand trailed down below Rebecca’s collar bones to brush gently across her trembling breasts, and the thin angular face leaned in closer, her lips parting slightly, until they met Rebecca’s own trembling mouth.
For a brief moment as they kissed there was a bizarre Wonderful/Horrible instant of complete fusion that left Rebecca’s mind both screaming in horror, and singing for joy at the same time.
“I’ve missed me. . . . “
********************
“NOOOOO GET AWAY!!!!!!”
The scream echoed off the invisible walls of the darkened Bedroom, as Commander Rebecca von Ernst sat bolt upright clutching her chest in horror.
The returning silence mocked her terror, and as realization of who and where she was returned, the tears of frustration began to flow.
~~~Not again. . . . oh please why wont it stop~~~~ her mind flailed helplessly, slowly recovering from the reoccurring nightmare that had plagued her sleep ever since her experience on the thrice-cursed USS Defiant two weeks ago.
She still had not decided in her mind if the horrible apparitions she faced on that doomed Starship were real, or merely some illusion, but part of her soul seemed to be leaning towards ‘REAL’.
The visions of her own future. . . as a ruthless and strangely erotic renegade were incomprehensible to her, and yet there seemed to be real life behind those haunted brown eyes. There seemed to be real pain in that tortured soul as she spoke of the swath of death and destruction she had painted across the galaxy leaving charred worlds and burned out starships in her wake. . . . .
Sobbing in the dark, Rebecca wiped ineffectually at her tear streamed face. Her rumpled sheets were twisted and soaked with sweat yet again, and despite her bone-weariness, she was afraid to return to sleep.
SHE would be waiting there.
Her future self, or one of the other apparitions that had haunted her every night.
Absently, Rebecca patted her flat stomach for reassurance. Phantom visions of a bizarre pregnancy and a failed relationship with James Corgan had also haunted her. A prospect that confused and horrified her at the same time.
Glancing to her bedside table she noted first the time. . . . .0430. . ..and next the simple 2-D holo of a smiling red-haired woman in blue jeans leaning over a handmade wooden fence in a rural setting.
Her mother. . . . Holli von Ernst. . . . . was also a participant in her nightly visions.
Horrible/Wonderful images of her slim mother, wrapped in tight sinuous embraces with a leering version of Lysander van der puls Hawklsey were at once revolting on a number of different levels.
Feelings of horror, loss and jealousy conflicted within her soul as she watched Lysander and Holli kiss. The meaning behind the visions totally lost upon her.
~~~Was it real? ~~~ she wondered for the umpteenth time about her experiences on the Defiant. Unconsciously she drew the collar of her Blue Pajama top tighter around her neck. ~~~Was that really me? Was that really Momma?~~~
She shook her head to clear the cobwebs and felt her frizzy red hair dance softly about her shoulders. Not for the first time in the last two weeks she considered getting her hair cut extremely short. . . .thus avoiding the disturbing vision of her future self with long, floor-length tresses.
She rolled a lock of her hair experimentally between her fingers. ~~~No. . . .I’ve been trying to grow it out since the Academy. . ..and I still have a long way to go before it gets THAT long.~~~
Currently the tips hung down just past her shoulders, a silent warning of things to come.
“Computer. . . .uh. . . . .c. . .current position USS G. . .Galalxy?”
~~~Noodles. My stuttering has been horrible. . .. since Defiant as well.~~~
=/\=USS GALAXY CURRENTLY EN ROUTE FOR PLANNED LANJEP RENDEZVOUS.
ESTIMATED
TIME OF ARRIVAL 6 HOURS 47 MINUTES=/\=
~~~Today.~~~ she sighed wondering if she should feel relieved or not.
So far Starfleet had said nothing regarding her recent failure as head of the Defiant Away Team. However with the deaths, and or maiming of nearly twenty crew members under her command, there was sure to be some sort of inquiry into the matter.
That and her temporary removal of Captain Brhode from Command in the face of the Interphase madness was sure to be scrutinized as well.
The old man himself had bawled her out multiple times in the last two weeks, having finally relieved her of all bridge duty pending further review.
With the recent lanjep treaty, there was now a semi-official Starfleet representative on the Klingon Planet, and if there was to be a court hearing. . . it would be there.
She glanced back at the clock.
O438
She was too afraid to go back to sleep.
“Computer. . . .” she sighed kicking off the bed covers, “Hot Co-Co and a bowl of Corn Flakes. . .slightly soggy.”
Time to face the music.
* * * *
"Klingons!"
Bhrode spat the word like it was foul in his mouth. He looked around the bridge of the Galaxy. The stray phaser shots from Curran and Sendi Solari's phaser fight still marked the walls. No one dared meet the Old Man's gaze. Everyone looked like... well.. like they had all suffered dirty fingers rummaging through their minds.
Two weeks had elapsed since the USS DEFIANT had been returned to the Rift, and the Tholians had left their cryptic message. (FORESHADOW OF A BACKPOST! WHooooooo!)
With a grunt of satisfaction, that the crew still hated him and did their jobs...His Mightiness returned his glare of displeasure to the Klingon officer on the Main Viewscreen.
"Only Imperial Deep Space Fleet vessels may enter orbit. We have a Thousand Ship Armada to..." The Klingon repeated, with a sneer.
"Thousand ship armada, my ass. I could slag every pipsqueak k'Tanga you tried to throw at me. I could make the entire m'Iric'n'nath'l sector a wasteland that Klingons flinched at the mere mention of. I could put seventeen photon torpedoes up your ass faster than you could say the word." Bhrode barked.
"Why don't you try it, hoo-man?" another voice sneered, as the screen split to allow another face to join the conversation.
"Butt out you fat eared Ferengi freak." Bhrode snarled, his hands clutching the armrests of the Command Chair. He added a word in Ferengi that raised Lysander from his post-Tholian contact stupor, to raise an eyebrow in recognition.
The Ferengi frowned. "My mother wouldn't EVER give a rebate, Hoo-man! H'Od L'Rurp! Destroy the Hoo-man! As The Representitive of the Grand Nagus here, I, Ambassador Plenipotentary Kowt.... I command you to fire on that ship! Destroy it! Except the weapon systems! We would salvage.....[click]"
The Ferengi disappeared, as the Klingons jammed his signal. The Klingon Commander returned a toothy Klingon grin to Bhrode.
"Only Imperial Ships are currently permitted orbital facilities. You must turn around. The Federation is no longer...welcome... at lanjep Diplomatic Center after your honorless performance at the Conference." the Klingon sneered.
"Black, arm the PPC." Bhrode snapped.
"Regulations require that the ship go to Red Alert and..." Black began to natter.
"ARM THE SMEGGING PPC!" Lysander screamed, cradling his temples. The Tholians had invaded his very brain, and he was sensitive to noises he didn't like. Like Black’s voice.
Seconds later, an underling leaned into view and gave the report to the Klingon Commander, ensconced in the Battlestation orbiting the jewel hued planet. His eyes widened, at the amount of whup-ass pointing his way.
"Did I say I wanted to go to the gawd-damned Diplomatic Centre?" Bhrode asked, elaboratly nonchalant. "Some of my people have seen it. All diplomats are weaklings. I heard lanjep was a resort, a paraadise for the Klingon Home FLeet. I would have my people visit it and avoid the crawling worms of the entore Quadrant at the Centre. Of course, if you'd rather perish in a blaze of glory, I am sure your House will honor your memory.... as someone who let a whole Battle station and half the Home FLeet get blown out from under his ass, without even being able to dent his opponents'..."
"You may orbit the planet and visit lanjep City. You may NOT approach the Diplomatic Centre on the Southern Continent." The Klingon snarled.
"Thank you for your....hospitality. It is very kindhearted of you to reconsider." Bhrode said, smirking at the backhanded insult he'd just delivered the Klingon. The viewscreen disappeared as the Klingon threw something at his side of it, closing the connection.
Bhrode turned his weighty gaze around, spinning his chair. He gazed flat lidded and impassively at Lieutenant Black, at the Tactical Arch.
"Why is my PPC still armed?" Bhrode demanded, in a voice that boded no reply. He watched Black flying to disarm the system, and spun his chair back.
"Number Two, take the following notes...My personal...umm..." Bhrode seemed to search for a mot-juste. "...thanks... to the Legate and well wishes for his speedy recovery."
"Aye sir." Lysander replied.
"Lieutenant Solari-Black is hereby confined to quarters, pending a full review of her shooting of the Legate." Bhrode continued.
"Smegging should put her in the Brig." Lysander added, un-neededly.
"The Security officer... what is his name?"
"Corgan." Lysander supplied.
"The other one..."
"Kreighoff?"
"No. Darkstar. Give him a promotion. Blew that ship up. I like that in an officer. Initiative." Bhrode ordered.
"Sir, it was Kreighoff who stayed behind and set the charges." lysander supplied.
"He lost a runabout to do it! Promote Darkstar to Brevet Commander, that will teach Corgan to watch his people more closely." Bhrode snapped.
"Aye sir." Lysander sighed. Rebecca would know how to sort this paperwork mess out. Which orders to 'lose' and which to file. Was it form TT-9827/K for "Chief Department Officers outranked by Assistants" or....
"Ops. The Fleet wants MISTER Reece back." Bhrode barked. The tall woman at the Ops station whirled in surprise, her lovely face showing the first animation it had, in a long time.
"Well? Pack your bags, you'll catch a courier from here and return to Earth in 2 weeks. Make sure Geluf is up to snuff as the new Chief Ops Officer. Good work Reece. Dismissed." Bhrode barked.
"Aye Sir." Lexa replied, in her clipped manner of speech.
"And Good Luck, Mister Reece." Bhrode added, with a smile.
Lysander goggled. It was almost like Bhrode was.... human. Almost.
"Engineering. Our CHief Engineer is also leaving. Did we have a Chief Engineer?" Bhrode demanded.
"Commander K'Etlyanna..." Lysander began, trying to recall the woman's name. He wasn't sure, but he THOUGHT he'd slept with her.
"Whatever. She’s gone... Promote...." Bhrode's eyes seemed to glass over.
". . .Lieutenant Rashid Corrinna to Lieutenant Commander and Chief Engineer." Bhrode continued.
"There is no Lieutenant Corinna on the duty roster....oh..." Lysander's eyes also seemed to get glassy, as he stared at the data read out.
"Send a note to Lt. Rose MacAllen-Corrinna congratulating her on her husband's promotion." Bhrode declared, still looking odd. ALmsot as if a Medusan Criminal was manpulating his mind telepathically. Which is just what was happening.
". . .Aye. . . " Lysander shook himself and went back to his usual frentic, jittering self. 'Helm sir? Mister Savoie seems ready to assume the position..."
"Yes. Mister Savoie to CHief Flight COntrol, no promotion." Bhrode barked.
"aye sir."
"And that damned silent Engineer, the moody one... Grey? Promote her to Lieutenant j.g." Bhrode ordered.
"Aye sir."
"I'll see the people I'm promoting, privately. DOn't tell them yet Number Two. Where is Number One?" Bhrode snapped.
==Commander Von Ernst is currently in her quarters.== The computer replied for Lysander.
"Put two security officers outside her door. She is confined to quarters by orders of the Admiralty Board." Bhrode ordered.
Bhrode looked aorund the Bridge again. Somethign was naggling in the corner of his mind.
The Bridge Turbolift doors blew open, and an irate Leo Streeley, clad in a towel and dripping water stomped onto the bridge. Pick and wet skin contrasted oddly with the "I (heart) ME!" tattoo vivible on the furry (shudder) buttcheek peeking out of the towel's slit.
"I wanna Complain! Raven keeps stalking me! HE was in my hot tub and..." Leo screeched.
"Oh yes, throw Mister Streely into the Brig." Bhrode ordered.
"WHAT? ME? It was that big galoot who was in MY tub! What if I had women in there? More than one woman? HE'd have ruined everything! HEY! Leggo of me! I’ll tell...errr..RAVEN on you! LET GO! " Leo shrieked, as the Bridge Security Officer grabbed his tubby arm.
"What charges?" Lys asked.
"Failure to save the ship in the usual manner." Bhrode replied, looking bored.
"I got friends! I gotta lawyer! I was BUSY! It was that Joe guy! He don’t love me any more! Not ...you know LOVE.. not like that....but... Not “love Butt’ but... ATTICA! ATTICA!" Leo screamed, as the lift door cut him off.
Bhrdoe continued to stare at the jewel hued planet on the Main View screen. It looked lovely, although it had its secrets as well. Like a emerald hiding a flaw, lanjep glinted to John Q. Bhrode.
"ALL HANDS, THIS IS THE CAPTAIN. SHORE LEAVE FOR ONE WEEK, FOR ALL PERSONS NOT UNDER CLOSE ARREST. REPORT YOUR DESTINATION TO YOUR DEPARTMENT CHIEF. ENJOY. THAT IS ALL." Bhrode barked over the intercom, hearing the echoes of his voice ring through the USS Galaxy.
"Number Two, skeleton watch while in orbit." Bhrode returned to his contemplation of the planet, lanjep.
"I -will- find out ...." Brhode promised the orb. Silence was his reply.
=/\=
OOC: Ok kiddies.. we're in orbit above the lovely resort lanjep. Those of you who got promoted, your PC's will find out during your R and R down there, feel free to have them come looking for Bhrode. HE's going digging for info on ‘What happened to the Aussie Guy?”. The WHOLE planet is your playground, except the Diplomatic Center, which is undergoing repairs after the Tholians departed a year ago. It is a KLINGON resort planet, so the amenities run more to "Punch in your mouth" rather than "Punch Coolers on a Beach"
Enjoy...Brandon is our fearless AGM this Coming Mission, and we’ll kick it off Wed., Jan 22nd.
The embarrassment of being tossed out of that horrid, dank little bar hurt more than being thrown about by those bouncer. No, on second thought, getting punched in the face hurt more than the embarrassment. It was yet another case of Jack drinking a bit... well a lot too much and blathering on about how he and his men led the Alliance to victory in the war and that anyone who wasn't with them was against them. It was either that or he gambled a hell of a lot more money then he had with him and lost big time. It was probably that.
Of course this lead to any number of arguments which Jack was not about to lose and this fact lead to any number of fights which, unfortunately, Jack was about to lose. Not that he was a small man by any means. But he was just a man. A man with very few friends that happened to be lightyears away so when he did get into fights it was often a lopsided affair.
Jack stumpled down an alleyway near the bar. His head pounded from the fight and the whiskey. He couldn't tell which source made his head pound more. But at least whiskey was his friend. A friend that was giving his stomach signals that it wanted out. He retched a number of times as he steadied himself against a waste recepticle, blood trickling down off of his face all the while.
*Chime*
No response.
*Chime*
Equally no response.
*CHIME*
"Alright... alright... God Forbid ye let a man sleep. Computer, what's the matter and why'd you wake me up at the God forsaken hour of... (he checked his chrono) noon?"
The computer responded blandly, "Communique from Starfleet Command."
"Display... ahh, increase text size by 75 percent."
=======================
From: Admiral Carach Jaggar
To: Jack Valhoun
It has been deemed that despite your recent difficulties you are to be immediately
given the option of transfer to the USS Galaxy, effective immediately, or to
choose voluntary early retirement from Starfleet.
If accepting, you are to report to the USS Galaxy as soon as possible and reply to this communique within 24 standard hours. You would be given the rank of Leftenant.
P.S. Off the record, you don't deserve this. You better not muck it up.
=====================
He hadn't shaved in a couple days, his face was caked with dried blood, and he really had no idea where he was going so any road would take him there. So why not. Maybe he could even salvage some self respect.
"Computer, reply to the message stating my intention to accept the assignment and lay in a course for the coordinates provided after refueling is complete."
"Acknowledged."
"Oh, and throw in some big words too, Admirals like that sort of thing."
"Acknowledged."
"But not too many, now. They also don't like it when someone appears to be smarter than they are. And you know how often that happens."
"Acknowledged."
"And for the love of pete will you stop saying 'Acknowledged'?"
"Acknowledged."
Jack began cleaning himself up, a task that would likely take the better part of the morning... err afternoon. After a moment he scratched his head, wondering about what he just said. "Did I seriously say that? That's such and old and tired joke. I fear I just set back human evolution a few millenia. I feel like I'm in a cheesy holovid with a writer who skipped a few years of writing class. And now I'm talking to myself. Glorious." It was true that Jack was usually a man of few words, unless he was drinking of course. Leave it to a computer to have him chatting like a schoolgirl. Shrugging the feeling off Valhoun began shuffling around his things swearing to himself that he had that one clean uniform balled up nicely in a corner somewhere.
The shuttlecraft had been at warp for a few hours now, speeding towards the USS Galaxy at unimaginable speed. Well, it was only going warp 6 so it was pretty imaginable, but still. Jack had just lost his 10th game of chess in a row against the computer. Losing interest in losing he set about to get something to eat. After a moment of contemplation he decided on a blood rare steak.
"Computer, what kind of wine goes well with steak? Oh, that's right," remembered Jack, "whiskey." Valhoun dipped into his extensive knowledge of wines and spirits and promptly replicated some good old Irish rotgut. The kind that made chemists squeamish. And drunk. And made their prudish assistants seem like Risan sex goddesses.
Jack ate in silence perusing the crew manifest of the USS Galaxy. He hoped that there would be at least of few officers who still subscribed to the old school of doing things. The corners of his mouth curled into a bit of a smile as he discovered that a marine was in command. Skimming the file he muttered, "John Q. Bhrode... quite the hard-ass. Hell, he has even gotten in more trouble over the years than I have but, instead of getting his ass in a sling, he gets promoted... I'll need to learn his secret."
"Computer, scroll the crew manifest and brief bio information slowly, along with pictures, preferable nude. Well, except for Captain Bhrode."
"Cannot process last request."
"Yes, yes, it was a joke. I bet you were programmed by a Vulcan." Anyway, the information scrolled across the console as the marine ate his food. Commander Von Ernst, Commander I'm too good for the normal amount of names Hawksley. "Heh, more names than years in Starfleet, that one. I bet he's the guy that would sleep with your girlfriend just to enjoy the beating afterward. It looks like he majored in getting promoted at Starfleet."
Thoroughly pleased with himself at his wit, or lack thereof, he continued down the list. Corgan, Darkstar, Curran, Grey... the list went on and on. Jack noticed that even the brief, rather informationless bios he was privy to stated Ensign Grey's problem. "They go and create the perfect 'fleeter and they go and stick her in Engineering. I always thought that those navy types were always good blokes, just so long as they weren't talking..."
Wondering, obviously, the status of the marines aboard the Galaxy, Jack queried the computer, "Computer, display a list of marines aboard the USS Galaxy that have not been reprimanded at some point." The list was small, very small. "Well, looks like everything is pretty much running to standard there. I can just picture their Sergeant Major... some grizzled old war horse that's fifty going on seventy-five and has had his pipes cleaned by a different woman on every planet." The short bio of the real Sergeant Major flashed on the screen just as he spoke, "But a woman in her thirties would have been my second guess, computer... really." Being a woman didn't really bother Jack too much, afterall, looking at her war record she probably has a set of balls of her own.
"Computer, time to destination."
"7 hours, 47 minutes, 32 seconds."
"What? It was 4 hours 2 hours ago!"
"The USS Galaxy has made a course correction and is now heading for the planet lanjep."
"What the hell is the planet lanjep?"
"Planet lanjep: Klingon Diplomatic and Resort planet. Class M. Population of-"
"Alright, alright," Jack interrupted. He remembered hearing about a bunch of what he would call 'crazy crap' occuring on the planet during recent times. At least he could probably get drunk and then mostly likely get beat up in peace for a change. "Actually, a resort planet must me shore leave. Not a bad way to start an assignment." It was also not a bad way to try to convince himself he still had what it took to lead troops. As the computer chimed its acknowledgement Jack laid back in his seat. This assignment might be damn near tolerable.
The time of celebration had come. Not a celebration of just life, but that and
death.
To clear things up for the unfamiliar, not every death on the Galaxy brought a wave of mourners standing in front of a photon torpedo, having it shot into space twenty some times over while the entire universe watched over the Federation News Service. Sure, it was a tragity. Sure, a lot of people died on that ship.
But there was a time for mourning… and a time for celebration. Because for every reason there was for mourning the loss of a life, there was a reason for celebrating all the good and joy that the dead brought while they were living.
Hence was the purpose of the wake at the Jam Club, a smokey, dark den in the middle of the Galaxy’s Promenade district. The marines and Starfleet officers who lost good friends on the Defiant had their time to cry. Now it was time to remember the good times, and raise a toast for the dearly departed. Each table was filled with officers and marines, segregated into little groups that didn’t mingle with any other group. Raising, clinking glasses, making toasts, jeering, cheering, recalling the fun times with their former comrades, drinking, eating, drinking some more, bragging about their former friends’ past performances, and doing even more drinking. This was the goings-on in the Jam Club, a din of chaotic activity, a bizarre mix of sadness and happiness, all under the dim lights and soundtracked by the music of the Galaxy’s resident Jazz band, the Nick Kimmel and the Nicktones. Their music was peppy and upbeat, and specifically requested as such. Anything to boost morale and not turn the wake into a total drudgery. Any excuse for being happy.
Even if it was a lie.
“I’m not in the mood to celebrate.” James whispered to himself. He sat alone at a two seated table, in the dark corner of the Jam Club. The rest of the crew could have the time of their lives, for all he cared. Escape from reality all they want. To James, it was all the same in the morning. When he woke up for duty shift, he would still have the weight of all those deaths on his shoulder.
The security department, besides the marines, took some of the heaviest casualties. There were many security officers at the Jam Club to show this off balance comparison. However, that was what they expected when taking up the golden uniform. ~”Was it?”~ James asked himself in doubt. The reality was, most of the officers under his command were inexperienced. They signed up because of the glory of exploring strange new worlds and seeking out new lifeforms and civilizations. How were they supposed to know a bunch of their comrades were going to die on board a haunted starship?
Morbidly, James thought of changing the recruitment poster to better reflect Starfleet, a skull and crossbones that said ‘One of us…’. It might have saved himself from Starfleet, a messed up life, and his predicament.
~”F**k it. I’m here. Wherever I go, death follows. Should have told the kids.”~ He grumbled inaudibly, taking a bitter sip of his Absinthe. ~”What went wrong? We did our job, and professionally. Could the disaster have been averted? How the hell should I know? How the hell was I supposed to know? Crap… now these kids are scared out of their wits, Brhode’s even more pissed off than usual, and my @$$ is on the chopping block! All because of the Defiant….”~
“Do you mind… if I sit with you?”
Startled, James pushed up a seat for Lieutenant Commander Reece. She graciously, but silently, accepted the seat, and slid herself towards the table. In her duty uniform, Electra was still a beautiful, amazing sight. Eye to eye with the Chief of Security, she was also a daunting sight. Her eyes were cold and haunted, a woman too used to seeing ghosts. In a way, James thought she was a kindred spirit. They were both subjected to all sorts of horrors during their time at Starfleet. Probably the basis of their relationship, and the reason why it crashed.
“You are… not celebrating.” Lexa pointed out to James’ glum face.
He finished off his glass of vile, wormwood flavored liquid in one bitter gulp. Dismissing the synthaholic effects, James muttered, “Don’t want to. I came here as a token gesture. For the boys and girls at security, you know. Keep the morale up, don’t let them know that something is wrong.”
“Then something… is wrong?” She asked, her voice like a frozen statue.
Lifting a decanter of Absinthe, James poured a measure into his glass. Then, taking a slotted spoon and a cube of sugar, he placed both on top of the glass, then slowly poured water over the cube, melting it. “You could say that.” Corgan sighed as the last of the sugar was evaporated away, “I’m in an @$$load of trouble, Lex. I’m lucky to have kept my job after the last mission.”
“What could be wrong? You… did well. Saved our lives, remember?” She argued. Somewhat confused.
“No… just got the word.” James removed the spoon from his drink, and then took an experimental sip, “Darkstar’s been promoted to Brevet Commander.”
Lexa looked even more confused, “Shouldn’t you congratulate him?”
“Oh, I should. In fact, Darkstar has more experience than I do. He should have his own department somewhere. Maybe the Enterprise, or the Sovereign… but that’s not the case. He should be department chief on another ship, but Brhode promoted him to Brevet Commander and kept him here.”
“So? Why are you worried?”
“Because…” He stared vacantly into the neon green liquid, “I swear Brhode’s lining Darkstar up to take my job.”
One of the waitresses walked up to Electra Reece and requested an order. She asked for coffee, black, double strong and extra sweet. The waitress took one look at Electra, perplexed, but then ran off to fulfill her request.
Commander Reece confessed mournfully, “I know how you feel. Brhode wasn’t… pleased with my… performance.”
“At least your department got off easy.” James countered, “Despite the situation on the Defiant, my department performed to the best of their abilities. I reviewed all the performance records and everything on that mission. They did pretty damn well. I found no fault of their own. Hell, his pet marines did worse than WE did! And did they get bawled out? No… we did. Because we’re security, and we were born to be b*tchslapped…”
“I heard…” Lexa tried to sympathize, “Brhode doubled your training, and didn’t do a thing to the marines. And what about you?”
“Oh… nothing much. Made my assistant chief a higher rank than I am. Set me up to be fired at any second. Disgraced me in front of my department. All that, even after all I did for him. I mean, my squad retrieved the fraggin’ Captain’s and Security Log, and retrieved his pet first officer for Christ sakes! And still that wasn’t worth sh*t to him.”
“Lex…” James shook his head, sinking it in self defeat, “To him, I can’t do anything right. So now he’s lining me up to be booted out.” He sighed, like he accepted the inevitable, and quaffed the green liquid down his throat, “Oh well. Here’s to a fine and short career.”
“It doesn’t… have to be that way.” Lexa stated in intervention. The waitress came back with her coffee. Accepting it graciously, the took a sip and argued her point, “I’m thinking about… leaving. I can’t take this ship anymore. The nightmares… come back. The Defiant… brought them back. I can’t… go on this ship anymore. I’m reminded… too much…”
James’ voice softened, “That ship affect us all, Lex. Where are you going to go?”
“There is a place… on Earth… I could go. I used to be… and administrator… for Starfleet Medical. I can… go back if I wish. There was a doctor… who understood… what was wrong with me. I want to go back… to him… maybe he knows how to help me. I can’t find help… on the Galaxy.”
“Then what can I say? You should go. Get off this ship, away from Brhode. Maybe you’ll be able to make more for yourself than Brhode would ever allow.”
“I don’t… know.” Lexa was wracked with indecision, “I… don’t know if I should. James, you should transfer. Brhode… hates you. You hate Brhode. Do what’s best for both of you!”
The fire burned in James heart. He wanted to stand up and scream, but choose to speak up slightly, “I don’t want to leave, Lex! That may be all well and good for you, but I want to stay!” James spoke with a fire that was up until now void, “This is my home. Brhode isn’t going to evict me from my home. Not now, not ever. I fought for this ship… DIED for this ship, busted my ass off to be the Chief of Security, and I’m not going to let some two bit @$$hole chase me from something I worked hard to get.”
There was a long and awkward pause, where Lexa and James didn’t know quite what to say to each other. Both caught up in their frustrations and problems, it was some time before one had the bravery to speak up.
James was the first. He asked, “So, that’s the way it is. Hate to say it, but this ship is my home. My friends and family are all here. Sad thing is, Brhode wants to tear me away from that family. I guess to stay here, I have to find out what I’m doing wrong and correct it, otherwise… I’m gone. You’re lucky, you know. You can go somewhere else. But for me, I’m stuck here.”
”That’s… not true… any of it.” Lexa objected, “I have… friends here too. I’m going to miss them.”
“Me too.” James glumly mumbled.
Lexa spat, “Don’t say that! You’ll stay if you want to. You are… a good officer… and a… good man. You just… don’t know it… yet.”
“Maybe you’re right. I am my own toughest critic… unless you count the Captain. I wish the Captain could see what you see. I wish he would for once… be proud of me. I would do anything for him, no matter how much I hate him, just so that he’ll finally say ‘good job’.” He shrugged, “But… that’s impossible. I’m resolved to do the best I can. Maybe someday, I’ll tell him to kiss my ass. That’s the best I can settle for.”
“Yes… we settle for the next best thing…” Lexa agreed, nodding.
"I don't know. The way I see it... i'll have the last laugh. I just don't see why... i'm being punished yet. I know I'll do great. I know i've done my best. What does he see that I don't? That's what bugs me. I don't know whether he's right... or wrong... about what he sees in me."
She finished off her coffee, then got out of her seat, put the seat back under the table, and started to walk away from the table. Her conversation with James was disappointing. She was seeing the once proud, confident, joyous ex-boyfriend she used to love turn back into a dour, self destructive whelp. How people changed.
Then again, didn’t she? Didn’t she used to have the say joy for him as he had for her? She admitted her insecurities were always the same, but before her tragedies she used to be… human. She used to be able to forgive and forget. She used to be strong and beautiful. Now when she looked at herself, she was plagued by visions and doubt. It was not what she used to be. James used to know what he was and what he would be. Now he wasn’t sure of his place, and didn’t know how good of a person he really was.
How they both changed, for the worse.
There was a question that plagued Lexa, and it demanded that she step her foot down, turn herself around, and confront James, just like she was trying to do in the first place before she was sidetracked by James’ discussion.
“James… did you really do it?” She shakily asked.
“What?” He raised his eyebrow, alarmed at her question, “Do what, Lex?”
”You know… with Princess… Dev’OraH?”
James closed his eyes. Recalling the strange incident with the enamored Princess, and the time when Lexa walked in unexpectedly, the guilt of the event that lead to their separation was unbearable.
He answered, “No. She was trying to seduce me, Lex. It may be hard to believe, but it’s true.”
Her response back was a choked sob, with a single tear down her cheek, “I hoped you were right all along. I hoped that what you said was true. But how do I know for sure? You hurt me that day, James.”
“Then what else can I say? You’ll just have to believe me, or find the strength to forgive me Lex. And what does it matter anyways? We don’t hate each other… right? We’re still friends, right? I still consider you my friend, no matter what you think of me. Not only that, our breakup was coming. We barely saw each other. We both changed so much that we didn’t recognize each other. You can believe me or not about the Princess, but that only speeded up the inevitable. We couldn’t go on like that anymore.”
“So… does that mean… it was for nothing?” She despaired.
“No! Most definitely not!” James argued right back at her, “What we had was too special for words. I’m glad we shared that experience together, because it was wonderful. And even if it fell apart, for the rest of our lives we can be on friendly terms.”
“Friendly terms? But you…”
”I didn’t. You’ll have to trust me.”
Choking back her bitter tears, she cried, “I… believe you.”
James wanted to get out of his table, and he did so. He wanted to comfort Lexa, but was unsure how to appropriately do it. Her tears were down in droplets, her testament of pain and sorrow for what they lost. James too felt the insides of his heart tearing down, the walls breaking up and crumbling, the walls he used to defend himself from heartbreak. Excuses and lies it’s mortar and brick. All crumbling down.
The chief of security gave a comforting hug as the chief of operations shed tears on his shoulder, “It hurts… I know. I was hurt too when we broke up.” James confessed sorrowfully, “But you know what? We had a great time… and look at it this way. If we didn’t work out, that means there’s someone else out there for you.”
“But…” Mumbling from his shoulder, she said, “…I can’t. Nobody will want me… I’m too old… too screwed up.”
“There will be someone for you. You have an entire lifetime to meet him, Lex. Don’t sweat it. You’ll be ok. I know you’ll be ok…”
For a minute, Lexa could not move away from him, but then she gathered the guts to pull herself away. Her eyes were puffed and red, her emotions contradicting the celebrations at the wake. She didn’t want to be here. She had to get out!
Though hit hard by sadness, she felt strangely comforted by James words. Like he saw no failure in their relationship, but the chance at a new opportunity. ~”How did he do that?”~ Lexa wondered. James was more secure in his future that she could imagine. It was his strength, to roll with the punches, to go where he needed to go, because in his mind (at least, what Lexa thought), he would get to where he wanted to go… it was just a matter of when.
“Are you ok?” James asked in concern.
Lexa smiled, “Yes. I will be.” Then, she weaved through the crowd, escaping from the Jam Club.
”I know you will.” Corgan whispered, watching her leave for what could be the rest of his life.
Rose who was dress in an "Gone With The Wind" type black dress enter
sickbay while an bunch of giggling, no good nurses was talking about James.
The young woman rolls her eyes at then, ~Children~ then walked past then towards
wear James is laying.
The soft plucking of an accoustic guitar was heard from further inside the sickbay. Nurses and doctors went about their daily tasks of experiments, tending the sick, and (a staple of their routine) daily gossip.
"He is kind of cute, you know." A blonde, human nurses with a peculiar accent giggled, hushed as she tried to keep the conversation in the general area of the water cooler... and three other nurses who were joining in on her gossip.
"Who?" Asked a younger Andorian nurse, rather naively.
"You know... the new guy that came in." A dark skinned terran nurse with a semi-loud voice and cheerful demenor 'whispered', "Suffered from exposure. Crazy fool went out into space. Dr. Malgin fixed him up reaallll good! Didn't think there would be a handsome guy underneath all that damage."
"Come to think of it Ensign Tarwandi... for a terran he is..." The Andorian stuttered to find the words.
"Cute, Ensign Sorti?" The blonde nurse chuckled as the Andorian blushed a bright red (difficult, considering the Andorian skin pigment).
"Yes... cute, Ensign Skjolddottir." Ensign Sorti laughed from embarassment.
"If you ask me..." Ensign Tarwandi chipped in, "By the way he plays that guitar, he can play me anytime!"
Ensign Tarwandi and the blonde nurse slapped hand and giggled to their heart's content.
"Excuse me, are you women going to stand around and giggle or do something that so you don't have to stay an Ensign for the rest of you life." the young Betazoid science officer said while walking towards James with an gentle smile on her face, but Rose wish she looked better but no...all black for an widow the young woman hates black.
"Ok..." Ensign Tarwandi sighed. ~"Meow..."~
James was kind of bored in sickbay, being trapped there for a long time, so he was relieved to have some company. Oblivious to the amorous Ensigns gossip, he stayed in sickbay, isolated. Other than the lack of human contact, James seemed rather content to play his guitar. A strange, zenlike peace fell over him whenever he played his instrument.
*Plink plink plink plink... PLUNKKKKK...*
The last note strummed discordantly. The song was lost as the new distraction arrived. James, cross legged on the biobed, his wooden accoustic guitar resting on his lap, raised his head up from his guitar strings, and flashed a arm hearted smile.
"Rose!" James cheerfully greated his friend, "I'm glad you could show up! Dr. Malgin chases away the visitors, so I don't get many. Glad you could make it through him and the ring of nurses."
"Oh, it ok Dr. Malgin hates my guts anyway, like I f**king care anyway so how are you doing love?" Rose asked as he try to sit on the bio bed with him in her 1800's Southern style dress.
James blinked once. Then he blinked again.
Though he couldn't make a positive guess, he could swear Rose was acting rather peculiar. For one, Rose rarely (if ever) swore in front of Corgan's face. It wasn't like her to drop a liberal sprinkling of F words in her conversations. The best explanation was that she was actually emulating his behavior, right down to the spacer's salty tongue. Though James was flattered by the mimicry, he found it quite strange.
Then there was the antiquated dress. A nice crimson red, a neckline that teased, the dress hugged the waist and poofed out along the legs. His theory was that she came out of the holodeck. A romanticist, perhaps? She did have the southern belle look that was popular in all the romance holonovels of 2379.
Then she said 'love' when she was talking about himself. Himself! James L. Corgan, and 'love' in the same sentence. On the Defiant, it was excusable. On the Galaxy, there was no interspacial madness or near death experiences to explain away everything.
But still, something was not quite right.
In fact, it was very... very wrong. ~"Dammit, the woman's married! Mom would freak if I found out some married woman is hitting on me!"~
~"Mom's also dead."~ The voice in his head replied, ~"Oh, and don't forget about Rashid."~
~"Oh... right."~ James thought, but then spoke frankly, "Are you ok, Rose? You've been acting odd since the Defiant. Well... actually, since Rashid... hit you." Corgan the got out of his biobed, resting the guitar down on the floor, "Come to think of it, he was acting odd on the Defiant, and I wouldn't say it's the madness. Tell me what's going on. Maybe I can help." ~"I'm the chief of security, of course I can help the damsel in distress!"~
Rose bit her lip for an minute and then spoke in an soft voice, "It wasn't Rashid, it was Victor made to look like Rashid. Victor and some of his friends killed Rashid an few months ago, my aunt Captain Angel MacAllen's ship found his body just an few days ago. His body was very badly torned apart, they cut his head off... I going to Betazed for his funeral I will be back in an day or two if the Captain will let me go. If not I have to have do something in the holodeck to honor his memory. Damn! I'm an widow at 26, I was only married to him for a year. The gods must really hate me."
"Whoa! Hold up!" James piped, but then he was halted like a man barreling into a brick wall. ~"Sh*t... i'm not to good at this. I f**ked over Rebecca real good trying to give advice. Don't want to do the same to Rose..."~But then, James shrugged, ~"F**k it. What do I have to lose?"~
"Why would the Gods hate you? Honestly? Did you do something to purposely piss them off?" James asked inquisitively.
"I don't know James, all my life I been looking for a man to love me with an passion, and now when I found him the gods took him away again. I want to marry again and have more children I can't live without love in my life."
"Look. Bad things happen to good people. I know. Rashid was the kindest, gentlest person I knew, and hell... I should have been more sure when I saw him hit you. But look... the point is your Gods don't have a reason to hate you. You have a wonderful little girl. You have a great job, and you are blessed with friends." James stammered, "That is... if I am a friend."
The young Betazoid touched his hand gentle, "You're more than that love."
~~"Excuse me?"~ James paused, then continued, "Most
importantly... you had a husband that was nothing but perfect towards you. He
may be gone, but that love you have for him can't be forgotten. You have a love,
Rose!
Dispite the tragity, you are blessed."
He finished, "You... have a full and rich life. You'll be ok. Don't worry."
"If I can't go to Betazed will you come with me and little
Karyn in the holodeck, I will think of something to honor is
memory."
"I promise, Rose. I'll even get the guys together for a wake. Deal?"
Following her own heart Rose reached over and started to kiss him deeply on the mouth, not knowing what he will do next.
Corgan's eyes widened like saucers in surprise. Rose's lips came in contact with his own. Her soft lips pressed firmly, finding no resistance on the other end. While she kept on with her romantic attack, James didn't move. He didn't know what to do. He didn't want to resist, in fact, he wanted to give affection right back at her. But somehow, it all seemed very wrong.
Slowly, firmly, gently, James pushed Rose away, saddened by what he had to say.
"Rose, you just lost your husband." He spoke, frankly, "You should give yourself some time to mourn. Then you should ask why you are so desperate for someone to love. Don't push like this. I know... it will only ruin everything."
Turning back to his guitar, James picked it up and plucked a few strings. "Maybe in few months. Maybe not. I don't know myself, because i'm at an indecision at this time. But after awhile, I think we'll be more sure about what we want."
Rose looked down trying to hide her feeling of saddness towards him then looked up at him with her dark eyes, "I will let you know when to meet me in the holodeck, get your men ready on stand-by." then before the young male officer can say anything she just walked off as fast as the young Betazoid feet will take her.
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