USS
Galaxy:The Next Generation Sim Log Stardate: 50301.17 - 50301.24 |
*Backpost- about a week after destruction of Defiant*
Sickbay was busy this morning and for that Ella was grateful. People had been tiptoeing around her for the past few days, not realizing that it was more of a comfort to be around sound than in complete silence. She liked listening to the hum of the machines, the varied voices of the complaining patients, and even the irritated voice of Doctor Malgin, as long at it wasn't directed at her. She did not like the quiet, where it was easier to lose herself.
Ella sighed and shifted a bit in the biobed. They would be releasing her soon from this safe little world. The wounds she had acquired on the Defiant had healed awhile ago, as before, but they had been keeping her for observation, probably at Karyn Dallas' request. The counselor had been by her bedside when she had awoken (sometime after destroying the Defiant and giving Victor a friendly hug, she had passed out) and had come to visit her everyday since. Ella had been annoyed at first but had come to see the counselor's visits as another comfort, not that she'd ever admit it to the woman. She wished her own parents had been as dedicated as Dallas seemed to be to the entire crew.
She didn't want to leave. For days now, she had awakened with dread knowing that she would have to. Ella knew that she needed to go, that she needed to get back to work (who knew what state Engineering was in now?) and into a routine that didn't have her laying around and contemplating how things could, should, or might have been, but she didn't want to. Dallas had been polite, slightly pushing every now and then about what had happened, but otherwise leaving her alone to work out her demons.
Of course, Ella didn't want to work out anything. What she wanted to do most these days was sleep. She had been lucky. No nightmares had plagued her throughout the night. Only the day.
She sighed again and picked up the computer PADD besides her bed. Dallas had suggested that she take a few more days off and Ella wanted them. Right now, she doubted her ability as an engineer and she wasn't sure she even wanted to be one anymore. That wasn't what Engineering needed. An engineer had to be on top of things, be ready to anticipate problems, know and understand their ship. Right now, Ella didn't even know herself. She sure as hell wasn't sure of anything. A few days more to recover would help her figure it out. She typed the short memo requesting the time off. It was short, sweet, and to the point, Ella decided as she sent it. Surely, they couldn't deny her just a few more days.
Ah the clarity of vision at seventeen, Ella thought. I knew how to pull myself out of this ...slump then. Of course her parents were a big help then. Nothing could have motivated Ella more than her parents complaints that she was going to miss her next concert. She remembered the disbelief she had felt. I've been attacked and you want me to go on like nothing has happened? She had decided then and there that she was never singing again and, to further ensure her control, she wasn't going to talk either. It was all too simple. Ella had decided to take back her life, her way. The rest of the world be damned. It was time to get what she wanted.
But what did she want now?
Sleep, a part of her yawned. Too much thinking, it complained. Get some rest and we'll discuss it later... Much later.
Ella yawned. She supposed it could wait a bit.
Lieutenant Tom Jordan, 4 year veteran of Starfleet’s Judge Advocate General
Corps, snapped shut the little brass fasteners to his patent leather briefcase,
and scanned his tiny desk one last time to see if he forgot
everything.
~~~Lets see. . . .Case briefings. . . .After action reports. . . .Appropriate Fleet bios. . . .what else do I . . .oh yeah.~~~
Smiling in chagrin he slid open his laptop drawer and removed a well dog-eared paperback novel and tucked it under his arm.
~~~Might as well have something to read while I’m waiting.~~~ he thought.
Much like the military, the judicial system was one of ‘hurry up and wait’. The wheels of progress alternatively spinning quickly, or not at all.
Today would no doubt be the same.
Exiting his office (translated: barely adequate hole in the wall), Jordan nodded in greeting to the bored looking Ensign stuck behind the Secretary’s desk. The poor lad was originally assigned as part of the lanjep Security detail, but had quickly been drafted by the JAG to shuffle papers in the understaffed office.
The recent lanjep trade agreement was still relatively new, so Starfleet’s presence was rather limited here in the Klingon Free Trade Zone. Less than 100 Federation personnel made up the current contingent, and everyone from Supply, to JAG, to the Diplomatic Corps was scrambling for warm bodies.
“Calling it a day already Lieutenant Jordan?” The Ensign inquired barely stifling a yawn. If the El-T cut-out prematurely, then the ersatz secretary could likewise hit the bar scene early.
“Don’t start ordering drinks yet Frank.” The Attorney smiled. “I’m heading down to the receiving bays to pick up our new client. We have a debriefing at 0800 tomorrow, and I need to get the preliminaries taken care of.”
Frank the Secretary let his hopes falter in disappointment. Debriefings usually meant a lot of filing work for him. Looks like another working weekend. "Sure thing boss." he said, "Good luck with this client by the way. I had a sister serve with her a year ago, and she told me she was a real Ice-Bitch. Cold as Breen and Twice as Mean."
"Lovely." Jordan sighed. "Don't worry I'll be a regular Mr. Personality."
= = = = = =
Leaving his dejected draftee behind, Tom Jordan made his way quickly through the station, hailing a passing turbolift for a quick ride down to the gigantic docking bays 50 levels below.
The slowly spinning orbital facility was one of many that hung in low orbit above the Klingon resort world of lanjep. With the new treaty, many governments had obtained license to maintain small orbital facilities in the area to serve as warehousing and administrative facilities for associated starships.
The Federation station, like most, was still in the stages of construction, but enough of the mid-sized base was operational to serve as an interim HQ for Starfleet affairs.
Housing for Federation Ambassadors, support staff, and facilities for visiting Starships were all available on the station.
With a soft ‘ping’ of arrival, Tom Jordan stepped from the turbolift in to a circular multi-windowed reception area that one side looked down upon lanjep’s swirling cloud patterns, and on the other, out into deep space.
Whistling idly to himself, the Attorney threaded his way through the ‘airport-style’ seating towards the latter. Glancing curiously out the huge floor to ceiling bay windows, Jordan scanned the deepness of space for any sign his prospective client’s ship. Nothing.
Not that he really expected anything. He had intended to arrive early anyhow, but it was a human habit to check anyways.
Glancing up at the conveniently placed Tele-monitor he noted that USS Galaxy was indeed on time for arrival not 10 minutes from now.
In his minds eye, Jordan could picture the star-going behemoth slipping down out of Warp Drive and re-entering the domain of Newton and Einstein. Sparkling showers of cosmic light reflecting off her pristine hull as the Warp bubble collapsed back into the tri-Nacelle design that had all of Starfleet talking. Jordan was no Engineer, but even JAG candidates had to take basic warp theory classes at the Academy, and the odd-numbered engine configuration was supposed to be impossible as far as he remembered.
~~~Oh well, maybe a knack for ‘bending the rules’ is something Engineers and we lawyers have in common.~~~ he mused, while idly whistling a random tune.
A rather grumpy looking Klingon Janitor glanced up from his cleaning, and glared at the whistling human.
Feeling the glaring eyes, Jordan gulped and swallowed his tune.
~~~Didn’t even know Klingons had janitors.~~~ he thought giving the craggy-foreheaded alien a small wave of apology. ~~~Probably see’s dirt as an enemy to be conquered.~~~
The waiting are was not very crowded for its size. Here and there a few clusters of people clustered about chatting softly, or reading holo-magazines. Off in the corner a lone gentleman reclined in a chair watching a ceiling mounted monitor broadcasting FNN (Federation News Network)
Just like airports all over the universe, intermittent overhead announcements would occasionally offer some useless advice, in a multitude of languages.
++ CHIS MICH’MEH POL POL’BE NEH ++
The announcement blared in guttural Klingon.
Jordan idly waited for the translation a few seconds later.
+++ THE WHITE ZONE IS FOR LOADING AND UNLOADING ONLY+++
Jordan chuckled. . . .
++ GALAXY’EJDO POH ’DAH ++
Jordan perked his ears up recognizing one key word out of that phrase.
~~~Galaxy. . . .What?~~~ he wondered waiting for the translation. ~~~Galaxy. . . is going to be late. . . Galaxy just blew up. . . .Galaxy is infested with tribbles?~~~
~~~Yay~~~
Moving back to the huge windows (along with a few small children who wanted to watch the ‘space-ships’ come in) Jordan could now see the gleaming bulk of the USS Galaxy banking in for final approach at one quarter impulse.
Spotlights for the station played over the bare-metal skin of the ship as it move closer, and Jordan was able to get his first real look at the new starship variation that everybody was talking about.
~~~Ye Gods that’s that thing’s a monster.~~~ he whistled low in appreciation.
First ship of her class, the Galaxy was already a large vessel, conceived and built in the mid 60’s when Starfleet was at the pinnacle of its age of exploration.
Now however after years of war and conflict, she was reborn, transcending from an angel of mercy to an angel of death. The bristling gun ports and torpedo bays proclaimed her status as one Starfleet’s newest Battleships rather loudly.
Idly Jordan wondered what he local Klingons thought of her.
~~~ What would I think of a Klingon Battle cruiser parked in orbit over my home town?~~ he reasoned.
As he watched, Galaxy pulled herself slowly into a smooth parking orbit 2000 meters away from the station. A veritable fleet of personnel and maintenance shuttles disengaged themselves from their respective cubby holes, and descended on the starship like a swarm of gnats.
Starfleet was no doubt anxious to get a quick once-over of its newest acquisition following her trials.
~~~Speaking of trials~~~ the JAG officer reminded himself, ~~~ I bet that’s my appointment right there.~~~
A solitary shuttle had disembarked from the Galaxy, and was now heading away from her, and towards the station.
Jordan traced its smooth route across the sky, and moved closer to the boarding gate to his left where it was scheduled to arrive.
++ OPAKA’DUJ POH ’DAH. WA’LOJMIT ++
Through the windows, Jordan watched shuttle settle neatly against the external hatch.
The hatches hissed open after a few moments, and a trio of Fleet personnel strode out.
Two burly security types wearing standard looks of disapproval were flanking a tiny little girl between them that Jordan at first mistook for a teenager.
A second glance revealed that the characteristic red hair, and freckled face did indeed match the holo he had been given of his prospective client.
“Commander von Ernst? “ He inquired stepping forward. “Lieutenant Tom Jordan, Starfleet JAG Corps at your service Ma’am.”
The Commander seemed to start slightly at his introduction, before avoiding his eyes and mumbling something that might have been an affirmative.
“Good to meet you Ma’am. I apologize for interrupting shore leave, but we have a few bureaucratic matter to take care of first.” He glanced at the two security officers. “You. . .ah . . .wont need a body guard here ma’am. . .the station is totally secure.”
The Girl blushed visibly, and the guard to her left spoke up. “We’re not bodyguards Lieutenant. We were ordered to keep an eye on the Commander and all her movements. She’s been restricted to quarters by order of Captain Brhode.”
Jordan gaped, “Restricted to. . . ? This is only a simple post Away Team Inquiry, not a criminal trial.”
The guard shrugged. “Nevertheless, Brhode’s orders.”
“Ridiculous.” Jordan snapped, “The good Captains jurisdiction ends at this hatch Ensign. The Commander is free to come with me, and you may return to the Galaxy.”
“But. . .”
“That was not an option Ensign.”
Sighing the guard acquiesced. “Yes Sir. Seemed kinda silly to me anyhow.”
Not bothering to watch the shuttle leave, Jordan took his new charge in tow and headed swiftly off down the walkway.
Trotting awkwardly at his side, the small girl had difficulty matching his large strides, so he adjusted his gait.
“You’ll be surprised to see all the changes since your last visit to lanjep Commander.” He said conversationally. “The Station itself is about 80% complete, and there’s a new human recreational area in the works on the surface for those of us that are not fond of Klingon-traditional relaxations.”
Again she mumbled something inaudible. . . .her eyes watching outside the window as they walked.
“Pardon Ma’am?”
“I. . .uh. . .I w.w..w.wasn’t here last time. I. .I transferred to P. . .Prospero for a year.”
The soft stuttered voice at once surprised and dismayed the Attorney. ~~~This is the famous Ice Queen? Geez, that crack in her voice makes her sound guilty as hell. . . . . this isn't going to be fun.~~~
“Oh, my mistake,” he said aloud. “My secretary is still in the process of updating your Fleet Bio, so I must have missed that detail.”
The Commander shrugged awkwardly and blushed.
“So. . .in regards to the Defiant Away Mission,”
he began, “Any insights beyond your official log entries. . . .bad bit
of business there
apparently.”
Her stride faltered a bit and a shadow seemed to pass over her pale features.
~~~Yes~~~ he thought ~~~ Definitely a bad bit of business.~~~
The Commander’s jittery personality was worrying the Attorney. As a Starfleet Officer he was used to representing people who already possessed a strong sense of professionalism and self-confidence. He was spoiled in that respect perhaps.
This stuttering XO however looked to be a bit of a challenge.
~~~How the hell did she get a job like this?~~~ he wondered. ~~~And whatever happened to those file entries that listed her as some sort of Ice Bitch?~~~
Obviously his data was wrong on several levels.
Sighing he wished not for the first time, for a real Law-Assistant rather than some Security Draftee.
The Commander stopped dead in her tracks, causing Jordan to almost run into her.
“Oh no. . . .” she whispered softly.
If possible, the pale skinned girl turned even whiter, and Jordan wondered for a moment if she was gonna be sick.
“Ma’am? You okay?”
~~~The Sommersby?~~~ he wondered ~~~What does that name mean to her?~~~
“I. . .I. . .I. . .I” she stuttered crazily, her tiny fists clenched and shaking visibly.
“Geez, Commander what’s up?” Jordan worried, “What’s the Sommersby. . ..someone you know, or. . ..”
“HOTH!” she spat out.
“The S. . .Sommersby is Admiral Hoth’s p. . p. . p. . personal warp sh. . sh. . shuttle.”
Something in the way she said it made Jordan’s spine tingle.
~~~ An Admiral. . .uh-oh~~~
lanjep.
Klingon resort world.
A place where everyone can kick back and wind down on a targ hunt, or drink bloodwine they puke. Thus was the fates of the crew of the Galaxy. Save one. Well, perhaps save two.
"What do you mean we cant relax, Crom?" Curot whined at his Ferengi counterpart as Crom walked down the aisles of Curot's shop on the promenade. "This is lanjep! Everyone has a remotely good time..."
"Well not us this time, now shut up and pack. The Nagus wants me to do business with a very prominent klingon house hold. The house of..." Crom glanced at a padd in his hands as he spoke over a weapons rack. "....The house of K'alling. Our contact is a FEMALE named Av'on."
Curot perked up. "A.... FEMALE?"
"Yes, a female. They apparently are allowed to do business here. But it doesn't matter. Latinum is Latinum, and in the eyes of the Nagus, it doesn't matter where it comes from."
"I suppose. Well, what does she want?"
"I have no idea."
"Theeenn.....how do you expect to do business?"
"Just like any other Ferengi. Professionally." Crom gave Curot a curt smile.
"Soooo...if you're going to do all this business, why cant I go off and enjoy myself!!" he stamped his feet a number of times. "I wanna see the great Has'kirpa exotic show lounge!!! I want to drink bloodwine until I cant see!!! Well, maybe not the bloodwine bit, but......"
"I am making you my assistant." Crom said as Curot's eyes lit up brighter than a shiny piece of latinum. "Now before you get out of hand, lame brain, it's not by my choice i have you as an assistant. It was the Nagus' idea."
Curot was practically beaming. "You mean the Nagus wants ME, specifically ME, to be your assistant!?"
"Yes, that way there is someone to take the blame and fall in case things get ugly." Curot turned nearly pale. "But don't worry, They won't do anything to you! Well, not without my permission. The klingons wouldn't want to start problems with a Federation Liaison now would they?"
"They better not!" Curot called out from the back office amongst a clatter of merchandise. He came out a moment later with a large already packed bag. "So what is it the klingons want again?"
"You're an idiot."
TBC.....
ooc: sorry for the shortness, but i am at work as i am writing this.; Stay tuned for more Ferengi Frolics!
OOC: Since when did we loose the capital J and ' in lanJep', eh??
Screeching in annoyance at the Klingon official she was talking to over the comm channel, Brightspot snapped, "NOO! I did not give approval to your cargo handlers to start chopping branches and squish things in. And it was listed as a tree for the facility arboretum, not an impulse manifold. Why would a stationary geosynchronous station need an impulse engine??"
The Klingon shrugged, "Well, maybe you should label your cargo better, Lt."
"It was!! Do all Klingons have trouble distinguishing tree shaped objects from rectangles??"
"If you fill out the correct forms that I am sending you, the Klingon government will arrange for a replacement if possible or compensation if not. Good day, Lt."
Groaning when the large packet of documents arrived, Brightspot sighed and pressed delete. She quickly typed up a request to the Sivaoan council rep to have another tree shipped to lanJep' with strong warnings to not leave it to Klingon transports.
Her console beeped and she answered it, "Lt to-Srallansre here."
[ Long-range sensors have detected the USS Galaxy incoming. ]
"Thanks!"
Jumping up, Brightspot grabbed her duffel bag which she slung over her shoulder and raced out of the temporary quarters.
Arriving ahead of the ship, Brightspot was waiting inches from the airlock door when an ensign unlocked it from the inside. He jumped three feet in the air when he saw Brightspot's smiling face and she laughed.
After he checked her boarding passes, she hurried on in. She was pleased that her previous quarters had been empty and her request to have the same room was approved.
******************************
Entering the room, she noted that it had changed a bit, most likely due to previous occupants.
Shrugging, she murmured to herself, "Guess it won't be too hard to modify it back the way it had been. First thing that can go is that damn sofa. What kinda of sicko orders a wooly plaid sofa?? My claws will get caught in that."
Dumping her stuff on the table, she decided to head to the security office to check in with her new CO. She remembered James from her early time on the Galaxy, but wasn't really sure if he would remember her. In fact, she could remember ever one of the brief conversations she had with him, albeit a very small number. Mostly, she had stuck around Sanchez, who was quite unusual for a human and intrigued Brightspot, and some of the others though.
Reaching the turbolift quickly, she waited and entered. She was about to request the Security office when she stopped and decided a quick detour would be okay.
"Arboretum, Deck 19. Time to check if my tree is still there."
The moment the transporter beam put the two Ferengi down in the Bot'Jak district, they knew they were in a very unfriendly place.
"Uhhh Crom?" Curot mumbled behind a box of beetle snuff.
"What is it?" Crom said without looking at his counterpart. He was too busy orienting himself in the city. After a moment of no response, he turned and glared at Curot. "What?!"
"Do you think it's safe for us here? I know this is a resort and all, but..."
"It doesn't matter if we think it's safe or not. We are here to serve the Nagus. Whatever it is, you can be sure if the Nagus has anything to do with it, it has everything to do with profit and latinum." Crom smiled a toothy grin. "I think it's this way." he walked on in some direction leaving Curot standing by himself for a moment before he ran to catch up.
"So where is our contact, Crom? Nearby?"
"I honestly have no idea."
"You've never been honest!" Curot called out a little too loudly, and a few Klingons took a bit of notice.
"If you don't keep quite Curot, we will Both be skinned alive here." Crom told him matter of factly. Curot gulped loudly. "The house of K'alling is in the JipKaJooc district. We are not that far from it, only a few more minutes." Crom told his counterpart.
"Well, the sooner we're off these streets, the better in my opinion!"
"I know what you mean."
The JipKaJooc district was a rough place on the resort world where usually the dregs of society end up, either alive or dead. Anything could be found there from drugs to illegal arms, it was a regular black market mixed with a little 20th century Bronx. It was not a district most visitors to lanjep would even think of going near, unless they had a reason.
The two approached a modest shack that looked as daunting as a crystalline entity. They slowly made their way up to the front doors of the house, where a broken klingon Bat'leth was hanging. On the door was the head of a targ with a large metal ball hanging out of it's mouth. Crom pushed the ball against the door with a deafening crash.
"Well, looks like no one is home, time to go!" Curot said exaspirally and bolted for the furthest reaches of the district before Crom grabbed him by the collar and hauled him back. "I DON'T LIKE IT HERE!! I WANT MY MOOGIE!!!!!"
Suddenly the giant wooden doors creaked open to a dark maw of a room. A woman dressed in Klingon battle gear was standing there holding a terrifying blade. She glared holes through the two Ferengi without saying a word. There was a fire in her eyes that frightened Crom. He swallowed and spoke softly.
"Av'on K'alling?"
*You are late.* she spewed in Klingon.
*My apologies* Crom replied in Klingon, *but if it weren't for the idiocy of my colleague we would have arrived long ago.* He turned and smiled at Curot, who smiled back happily. *We understand you have a need for us.*
She strode over and spat some Klingon profanities into Curot's face before walking back into the depths of the House.
"Uh, Crom?" Curot asked under his breath as they entered after her. "What did she just say to me?"
"She's initiating a mating ritual." He said curtly.
"BUT SHES WEARING WAY TO MANY CLOTHES!!!" Curot blurted out, drawing the attention of Av'on and two male Klingons in the room. He tried to hide behind Crom, but Crom stepped forward into the room. Av'on took a seat in a lavish throne.
"So" she said. "You are the representatives of the Grande Nagus?"
"I am" Crom replied. "This is my aide and attaché, Curot. He will be assisting me in whatever it is you require of us. What that is, we are still curious to find out." He grinned. "My name is Crom, Ferengi Delegate of the FedLiason corps, and Alliance dealer extraordinare." He took a slight bow, not taking his eyes off the two male Klingons.
"I require three things." At least she was to the point. "First, there is a contact in the North section of the city named RuBla. He has a small package i need from him. He may not want to give it up, but i am sure your, diplomatic ability, can convince it from him." She smiled at Crom and played with her weapon. "Second, I require a barrel of bloodwine vintage 2288. There are only 3 barrels of this spirit on all of lanjep. Third....." she paused, "I require a XM31-22D5 Federation desk. They are superior computing components. When All three things have been finished you will be paid handsomely. As will your Nagus." She stood and pointed her blade at the two. "Failure means death."
"Not with that!" Curot blurted out with his characteristic good timing. "That's a fake!"
The sound of blades being drawn around the room came from all directions. "What?"
"That Rutarian Blade in your hands is a fake. I'm a weapons dealer and i have one in my store. That one is a fake. The knuckle spikes are far too short and the blade looks flimsy!"
"This blade has been in this household for generations....." she swore in klingon. "MAKE IT FOUR THINGS!!!! KILL THE HEAD OF THE HOUSE OF DU'PONT!! THEY ARE THE SLIME THAT HAVE WRONGED US WITH THIS PATHETIC EXCUSE FOR A BLADE!!! I WANT HIS HEAD!!! NOW GET OUT!!" The two Ferengi were more than happy to oblige the last request.
As they were walking down an unnamed street, Curot turned to Crom. "You do know that there is only one XM31-22D5 Federation desk on the whole USS Galaxy."
"I am aware of that Curot."
"Well, I don't think Mr. Bhrode is going to GIVE us his desk."
NOTE!!!!!:::::BACKPOST! Occurs right after 'Ghosts of a Galaxy Past' during the DEFIANT Mission.:::::
* * * * * * * *
Bhrode sniffed his disgust and spat on the floor next to Price's hoverchair.
"So you show me some damn party from years ago?" Bhrode sneered. "Big fricking deal. I saved them. Whoopde doo!"
Price remained silhouetted and silent against the otherworldly light that streamed into the counseling office from behind him.
"Robert?" Karyn asked, nervous around her former friend and commander. She had not spoken to Price since the return from lan'Jep and her retirement from the Fleet.
"What are you doing on my ship? What does the Brass want with my people? Tell me or I'll shoot you where you sit!" Bhrode demanded.
Silence.
"I saved the asses of the crew of USS YUKON, Commander Dallas got her dolly. Big goddamn deal. I suppose this is where you show us 'what if we had never existed now...' ??" Bhrode continued.
"Fuggedabout it." came a familiar voice from the hoverchair.
Leo Streely, dressed in the uniform of an Admiral, popped out of the chair to his pudgy feet.
"Didja think I was Price? Didja?" he crowed to Bhrode, who recoiled in disgust (and at the odor of feet and cheap cologne that washed over he and Karyn.)
"No." Bhrode declared with great feeling.
"Yes you did! you thought I was Price! All I had to do was say 'Crikey' and 'No worries' and you bought it! Whadda Schmuck!" Leo crowed.
"In the Human tradition, the ghosts of Christmas Past, Present and Future represent the collective longing ..." Karyn began.
"Yah yah yah. Hey toots. Looking good red! Want Uncle Leo to sit on your lap and tell you what he wants for Xmas?" Leo leered.
"You fat little pervert! I should shoot you!" Bhrode raged.
Leo held up one pudgy hand. Suddenly, John Q. Bhrode was behind a cage of steel, that had materialized around him.
"I said fuggedaboutid! In this future, I kept my Q powers. I can see everything... nice panties by the way, Red." Leo announced, with a leer. "I know everything. I do what I want! You gotts to respect mah authoritaty!"
"So we should call you 'Q-Leo?'" Karyn asked, brow creasing in thought.
"If you want , Red. HEY! Like Coolio! Rollin wit' mah homiez..." Leo bopped and jived for a moment his Admiral's uniform changing to an oversized rap star outfit in denim. Gold chains draped his neck and Bling Bling rings adorned his pudgy fingers.
"Where mah beeytoches at, yo?" he demanded.
Suddenly, Raven Darkstar pops into view, dressed in a breech-cloth and a layer of bear fat over his muscles.
"How." Raven says.
"How? HOW! Sheeessssshhh! Getoudda here! Errrr... you didn't see that." Leo says, making Raven disappear with a snap. Bhrode and Karyn forget the entire exchange.
"You believe that guy?" Leo demands.
"What guy? Who?" Karyn asks, looking more puzzled.
"NO! How!" Leo screeches.
"I see omniscience doesn't make you any more understandable." Bhrode declares rom his cell.
"What? Was that something about my mother?" Leo demanded.
"No, he said..." Karyn begins to try and soothe over each of the two men.
"Never mind. I knew that." Leo announces.
"Are you sure you're a Q?" Bhrode demands.
Leo rolls his eyes to the readers.
"You believe this guy? It's ME! Leo!" he announces.
"Don't remind me." Bhrode announces.
"GEEZE! Okay look. it is simple. You and the GALAXY get sucked into this Rift thing. Right? So the Tholains go apeshit. They don't want GALAXY, they just don't Want DEFIANT coming out and confusing their thoughts. Because you know, like when I'm thinking during sex, and wondering "is the midget tired' or "how many licks to get to the middle of..." " Leo nattered.
"So Galaxy is in the Rift." Karyn prompts, seeing Bhrode's forehead vein start to throb.
"What? Oh yeah! And the Klingons go nuts and go to war against the Romulans. And they catch you napping, and the Federation is fighting on two fronts now. THEN the Borg go nuts. No more GALAXY means no more treaty with them...so they beat up on everyone. THEN the Dominion comes back and... The rift awakens my Q powers, and the Continuum goes nuts. So I'm like, saving ALL the dimensions, see?" Leo chatters.
"No." Bhrode announces.
"Oh fer chrissake! Do I godda do EVERYTHING myself? You are all NUTS! Really! Even this conversation is only happening because you're nuts and I am a Q! All you godda do is: Get oudda here, don't shoot the Tholians and push Defiant back into the Rift before it eats everyone's brains! Is that So HARD????" Leo screeches.
"Why aren't you insane and seeing things, then?" Bhrode demands.
"Hey! this is ME! Leo! " the fat man announces.
"Why do I feel cold? Why can't I tell what is real and what is merely..." Karyn demands.
"Maybe a lil Leo Lovin will help that.. and the legs. HEY! Can you like, move them behind your ears?" Leo demands as Karyn looks green.
Bhrode rattles the bars of the cage.
"Oh geeeze... you people are hopeless! I only am here for the fans! MY fans! You're not gonna remember any of this, and I'm going back to the Continuum. The other me, this time-space-event me will be in the hot tub, if anyone needs me. Him. Whatever. " Leo announces, disappearing with a "poof."
Moments later, his head re-appears.
"Forgot the cage and the chair." he announces, as those objects blink out with the balding head.
Bhrode looks at Karyn.
"I don't know why we are immune to this, but I want to take command back of MY ship and get out of here, before anything happens to the rest of MY crew." He announces.
"I'll find someone else immune, and we'll get started on recovering our people from Defiant. Sickbay should be mobilized, and my staff will be ready to help with the psychological scarring that surely will result." She says.
Bhrode eyes her for a long moment.
Karyn, digging deep to find the strength to deal with his caustic criticism again, eyes him back.
"I know I don't say this enough... but damn good work Dallas. I'm proud to have you here." Bhrode admits.
Karyn starts in her hover chair, almost leaping.
"Is it THAT surprising I have respect for someone who does their job well, and that I'd tell them? I am NOT an Ogre! I simply want people to realize this is the STARFLEET and the only line of defence for BILLIONS of sentients!" Bhrode began to yell at her.
"I..."
"My crew is MY business! I like them all, which is why I don't want to see them die! I would stack THIS crew, which I hand-picked, over ANY on the Fleet!"
"It is not that, Captain...I... It...did someone just...goose you?" she asked, eying her chair and numb legs warily.
Both heard a distinct replicator rumble, almost like a Streely chuckle.
=/\=
OOC: from some rough notes between lori and I...the end of GHOSTS got confusing...and this helps wrap SOME of those ends. And of course.. it is NOT a GALAXY Mission without Streely showing up ONCE!
Lanjepi wilderness. Breathtakingly beautiful. So pristine you could even drink the water without dropping a single decontaminant tablet into the trickling streamlets. Although the saber toothed gar-Pikes would like you to try.
The skies were crystalline blue, and the clouds were sporadic and rare, whispy little white lumps drifting lazily in a wind kissed sky. The sun beamed down on them in an unalien yellow, warming Lanjep at a comfortable spring temperature similar to Earth. Forest creatures chirped and bellowed softly in the distant forest. Besides the insects and the occasional wild targgoth shambling past, it was dreadfully quiet.
So nice and beautiful. Pastural. Serene.
Not for long.
"PULL!!!!!!!!" James L. Corgan boomed, into the wilderness scene.
*P-CHAM!!!!!!!............* Went the skeet drone launcher to his left...
*Fffffffsssssssssswwwwwwww...* Went the saucer like clay skeet (Made with Lanjepi clay, so that the environmental nitpickers at Starfleet wouldn't b*tch)
*FRAAAAKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!* Went the phaser rifle in Corgan's hands...
*POOF!* Went the skeet drone.
So far, James was enjoying the new day. This was the first time he had an opportunity to try out the new ARGO all terrain assault vehicle outside the simulator. Taking the Argo for a light drive out in the country was not easy, considering Klingon Inperial alien vehicle regulations, the antsiness Starfleet felt whenever one of their new toys was taken on foreign soil, and the time it took to craft a perfectly logical excuse to go out and kill some time with one of the toys.
Plus, Log and the Marines seemed to take a totally un-needed proprietary view of the ARGOS weapons platforms.
So...according to James, he was taking the ARGOS out for a test. He wanted to try its off road capabilities, so he had to go out on lanjep to do so. And because Lanjep was the closest planet and the ARGOS wasn't modified yet to run in space vacuum, Lanjep was the logical choice (though it was a Klingon world, and Starfleet didn't like the idea of the Klingons checking out their new toys)
And the phasers? James was merely testing out the new updates on the type 3-D Fleet phaser rifle. Sure, they were minor changes, but it did give him an excuse to pack some heat. As long as he was in the wilderness (and not a populated center), the weapons were allowed. Although the Klingon snooper-drones and spy satellites were surely soaring overhead, watching everything, James' scattering signal could take care of any privacy concerns.
Everything was taken care of. James didn't disclose his exact location, but everyone knew he was on the surface. The equipment was made legit to take to Lanjep. Hell, the skeet shooter he replicated and modified to fit on the pintle mount where the photon grenade launcher was supposed to be was ready, and his lunch and a six pack of synthale were cooling in a ice packed cooler, nestled deep between the hydrogen fuel cells.
He went through a lot of hoops to get his moment of relaxation on the planet, and he was enjoying every minute of venting he could get!
"PULL!" James ordered the voice activated launcher. Another saucer of clay was sprung out of the skeet shooter, where it whistled into the distance. Corgan took careful aim with his rifle, and pulled the trigger.
To his satisfaction, a red phaser beam turned the unfortunate skeet into dust, hitting dead center, again.
"Hell yeah..." He muttered in satisfaction. This is the kind of moment James felt should be put in the recruitment videos. Shooting skeets in the wilderness, with a six pack of beer and some tunes playing on the Argo's speaker system. This was the life.
A transporter signal broke his twisted Norman Rockwell fantasy, killing any idea of him being alone. The beam solidified, formed up a body, then disappeared as a sparkle of bluish energy.
Lt. Commander Electra Reece was re-formed, the tall brunettes Ops Chief looking more peeved than she normally let on to the rest of the Universe. She strolled up to James, then passed him, and climbed into the back of the ARGOS.
"Mind if..." She stuttered, "I... join you?"
James surrendered in defeat. There was no way he could be alone now! "Knock yourself out. There's synthale and sandwiches in the cooler. There's another rifle in the back if you want to join me."
"Expecting... company?" Lexa opened the cooler and grabbed herself a can of beer. She then picked up a phaser rifle and gracefully leapt off the ARGOS and landed catlike, right next to James.
"Yeah. Could say that. Everyone wants to see the ARGOS. Finally had to make a schedule for my staff to take turns. By the way... did you approve of the requisition schedule?" He asked, a mischievous grin on his face.
Lexa cracked open the flip top on her beer can, with a satisfying fizz. She drank deeply, then set the drink on the Argo's rear bumper. "Yes... but... you owe me. The marines... wanted to use it too. They won't... use the ARGOS... until the last few days on Lanjep. And the Federation Embassy was... reluctant.. to...l.l.let it go."
Laughing unconcerned, James commented, "Yeah... well they suck my..."
"PULL TIMES 5!!!!"
Loud enough for James' ears to ring, Lexa commanded the skeet shooter. Tensing up, she cracked shot after shot at the flying skeets. Five flew, and four were brought down by ten rapid fire pulses of her rifle.
"Damn..." She curses as the last skeet crashed into the tall grass, interrupting a stalking sleen in pursuit of a jik'jiK bird. The predator lashed it's dual tails in frustration, mirroring that of Lexa, who stared it down.
"Scat!" she told the dusty coloured predator, which started and slunk away.
"Pull!" James yelled, the skeet shooter firing off a drone disc. He lined the rifle up for a shot, "Can't help but notice..." His rifle tracked the disk, his finger closed around the trigger, "You seem annoyed today. Want to tell me about it?"
The skeet exploded from James' shot.
"Brhode...He... I... PULL!" Her expressionless sigh when mentioning the Captain's name then turned into an explosion of frustration, the skeet hurrying out of the shooter out of fear. Lexa pulled the trigger, then sent another skeet to its timely death. "He is so... critical!"
"Touche. Can't breathe without him pointing out a mistake. Hell, if he's going to scream at me... might as well give him an excuse. PULL!!!" Another skeet shot out, and the shot missed worse than before, "Dammit! I can't shoot as well with my left eye ever since the right was buggered up by that damn Hirogen. Maybe I should just cave and get an ocular implant."
"I... don't know. The glasses... look nice..." Lexa grinned, then ordered, "PULL!" She blew away the skeet a second later.
"You think so?"
"Yes... I think so."
"Thanks. That was nice of you to say that. So... we're friends?"
"Yes..."
"Excellent. PULL!"
A sizzling disruptor bolt came out of nowhere, smashing the drone into atoms.
"Oh for f**k sakes..." James groaned, dreading new arrivals, as he turned slowly
A shimmer of cloaking energy revealed the Klingon KR-3400 ARGOS Assault vehicle, a sleek, bug appearing roadster in a garish disruptor-resistant purple paint job. Major Laughing Horse Log was coolly handing an Assault Disruptor back to grinning Klingons, as Bhrode glared at Corgan through the open top gunners hatch hatch of the Klingon vehicle.
"I was looking for my ARGOS. Embassy said it might be here." Log deadpanned, the matte black Feddie Assault Armor looking out of place in the warm pastoral sunshine.
"That shot was nothing! Do you all shoot at clay discs? How do they fight back?" sneered a Klingon Marine in full regalia.
"YOUR ARGOS?!?!" James yelled, exasperated and offended, "We called them first. Nest time, try to get there before we call them!"
"It belongs to the Marines, not your people, Little One. Unless you enlisted in the Corps?" Log replied, looming and casting a long shadow over Lexa.
"The Argo belongs to the ship, not the marine department." Corgan flatly argued, telling the truth.
"CORGAN! It is MY ship!" came the cry of Bhrode, through the Klingon vehicles open hatch.
Just when James couldn't imagine the situation getting worse, Brhode had to prove Murphy's law right and appear. Sporting his infamous and scarred Starfleet Marine battle helmet, and smoking a cigar, Brhode had a sneer locked on Corgan that could peel his skin to the bone. Identical cigars were in the mouths of the Klingons present... and the sneers they sported looked a lot like Bhrode's too.
But since James actually knew what being skinned alive FELT LIKE during the last mission, he wasn't as easily intimidated.
~"Ohhh... for Christ sakes...."~ James groaned.
"We are... in trouble..." Lexa pointed out.
"No kidding, Lex. Are you sure that paperwork went through. My request to use the ARGOS did go through... just like you said. Right?" He begged for a yes to get out of trouble.
"Ummmmm... maybe." She responded, shakily and unsure.
"Maybe?"
"Maybe...Umm...I don't really... umm.. have anything to do with... ummm.."
"Oh for f..."
"CORGAN!" Bhrode bellowed again. "If you're done chit-chatting with the girls over there....I wanted to show the Klingons the new ARGOS, with Log's people in full kit. Imagine my surprise, when I find the ARGOS was transported down here, for a picnic, under your orders." Bhrode declared, scanning the horizon. A Federation Battle Armor helmet sat perched squarely on Bhrode's bullet-shaped head. A dent showed where the helmet had saved the Old Man once before.
"I love the smell of phaser fire in the Morning!" Bhrode told the Klingons, who all nodded.
James asked for clarification, "So what your saying is that testing some phaser modifications on the rifles by shooting skeets if purely entertainment? You're saying that testing the Argo to evaluate the uses for my department is also not good? And you're also saying that I can't bring down a lunch if i'm going to be testing the new equipment for the afternoon? So... i'm not supposed to use the Argo, even though i'm authorized to do so, and even when the schedule for use of the Argo was clear for the entire week?"
"Exactly Son. No more Pickey-Nicks, no more playing with Marine stuff. You can't HANDLE the Marines!" Bhrode scowled. "Glad to see you talking sense, instead of to some touchy-feely shrink crapola. You should get skinned more often, toughens you up."
Log scowled, his usually impassive face looking mightily pissed off.
"A warrior who fletches another's' arrows, usually ends up farting feathers." Log declared.
"And a warrior who doesn't know his tools doesn't know his job. A quote from Kahless's Chronicles. I can quote the page if you like." James countered. ~"Got any more timeless classics?"~ he thought to himself, half expecting Death to make a reply.
"This is your assault vehicle, Bhrode? Why does this worm quote Kahless? And it was K'Tank who said that, Human! HE was skinned alive by Kahless the Unforgettable." Sneered the Klingon General next to Bhrode.
~"For christ sakes... I did the report and learned freaking KLINGON to find that out!!!!!!!!"~ Corgan was tempted to scream.
"Never rub another man's rhubarb." Bhrode told James, with a smirk.
~"Was that a masturbation crack?"~
There was no way out of the argument now. James was used to the idea of being wrong no matter how right he was. Being under Brhode's command was like taking a daily serving of humiliation, pain, and hardship, and being right was irrelevant. So finally, James decided it was time to give up, hand the ARGOS over, and let it be.
But then, he came up with a foolish idea.
"Excuse me... great General K'taga." The security chief called out, "I know a couple of officers doing target practice is not as impressive as a squad of our elite marine detachment.." He said, while thinking ~"like the Klingons would be impressed by a bunch of armored goons anyways..."~, ...but for the lack of a great show of martial prowess, I apologize. But I do think you will be suitably impressed by the Argo's performance. With your permission... Captain... I would like demonstrate the Argo's abilities to you all..."
"Why does this mewling peon babble at me, still? Flog it." declared the Klingon General with a nonchalant wave.
~"Great... this isn't looking good."~ James dreaded, thinking about taking Brhode up on his skinning offer instead.
"You cannot, H'OdAram... the Chancellor has invoked the Diplomacy acts here on lan'Jep and..." an under-officer declared.
"Oh. Well... flog him then." The General pointed at the correcting Under-Officer, who was dragged into the interior of the KR-3400, up the ramp that would normally spew a company of Imperial Marines.
"Denied Corgan. LOG! Let's take this back to the Embassy Compound, load up your Marines, and then you and the Generals boys here will...." Bhrode said, around his cigar.
"Captain, Perhaps Corgan has a ...point." Log said, his normally impassive face sporting an evil smirk through the open visor of the Armour.
Bhrode eyed the group before him. He beckoned Corgan closer to him.
"See those Klingons? You make me look bad in front of them, Son, and You're gonna wish that whassit on DEFIANT had kept your ass. You UNDERSTAND me Corgan? I'm pissed. ARGOS is Marine property. You don't test weapons or vehicles on alien territory with your little girlfriend. If you wanted it to screw in, you should have said so. Everything out of your mouth is pure ass-polish. Play nookie-cookie on your own time. Screw up again, and I'll make boots out of both your guts and hers."
Then, a voice James knew and hated came pipsqueaking from the Klingon ARGOS...
"Smeg! I thought that was the lighter.... damn near set off the smeggin' flamethrower...oh.. Little Jimmy." Lysander VanderPuls-Hawksley piped up with.
~"OH FOR F**K SAKES!!!!!!!!!!! DOES GOD HATE ME OR WHAT?!?!?!?!?!"~ James screamed in his head at the heavens, his face turning a bright red, his mouth permanently etched in a dissatisfied scowl.
"THERE is a human who knows Warrior ways! Come and join us... we found your ARGOS.... although our KR-3400 is bigger...." bellowed the Klingon General around his cigar, pointing at Lysander VanderPuls-Hawksley.
"Smeg. Me?" Lysander asked, looking lost in his Federation BDU's.
"You served as Gunnery Officer on an Imperial Cruiser. You were rated on the KR-3400! BHRODE! If I cannot flog your insolent puppy, I would have you pit your ARGOS against ours! I am so sure of victory, I will even put two HUMANS into the KR-3400! This one as driver and the big one as Infantry!" The General bellowed, slapping Lysander and Log on their shoulders. Log just swayed with the buffet, still glaring at Corgan. Lys ended up on the ground in an explosion of dust.
"Smeg me! Drag racing Little Jimmy..." Lys declared to no one, from the ground.
"The girl drives. Corgan as Infantry." Log grated out, hate oozing off him like the heat shimmers on the Lan'Jepi desert.
"WHAT?!?!" Lexa spat out in shock.
"General... I know I have offended you..." James tried to be as understanding as he could without whipping out a phaser, "But she..."
Bhrode smiled and took the cigar from his mouth, silencing James. "I don't think they like you, Son. GENERAL! You're on! You ride in your ARGOS.. I'll ride in mine! Loser's people walk back, and the winner gets a bottle of hooch. Better not lose, son. I'll be breathing right down your neck." He told Corgan with relish.
"What? You expected me to lose, sir?" James boasted falsely, "We're going to win it. To prove my point, if I lose... not only will my department leave the ARGOS alone, i'll swallow my rank pips in front of the entire marine detachment and the Captain. Deal?"
"Don't... dig yourself... deeper." Lexa stuttered.
"I'm only giving them what they want, and they want me to go through utter humiliation." James said, off to the side.
"Stop babbling, Son. Makes you look dumb. Klingons eat dummies for breakfast." Bhrode muttered.
"Alright then." James flicked on his glasses. A tap of a button on the side, and the shades instantly darkened. "Let's do this. Oh, and Log..."
Log looked over from the ramp to the Klingon vehicle. The General and his staff officers were clustered around the area between the two vehicles.
"If I win, i'm formerly requesting that security gets their turn on the ARGO. If we have to train like you, we should get the same perks too."
Log considered it a moment. Then he grinned again. It was NOT a Pretty Sight at all.
"Agreed. But if I win, you will have to train EXACTLY like my people. We go easy on you already, and this breech of discipline and honor is our reward." Log grated out, his chiseled muscles making the armor seem swelling to contain him.
"Shocking... I think he should flog the losers." The General commented, to great growling approval from his staff.
Confidently, James saddled up in the rear end of the ARGOS. He detached the skeet shooter, threw it in the back, and then re-attached the Argo's rear energy weapon. He tried the pintle mount with a few experimental turns and twists. Working to his satisfaction, James grinned at Brhode, and gave him the thumbs up.
Bhrode was webbed into the Rear Gunenr's chair. A few traverses of the weapon by Bhrode, and he gave James a nod of approval. He pointed silently at the Standard Issue Marine Combat Rig in the Locker. James started to wriggle into it.
"Lex, start the ignition sequence." James hollered from the back. He went back to checking the suit, setting it to neutral standards. The Argo had yet to make its bestial engine roar for well over a minute.
"Lex..." James hollered again, "Crank that motherf**ker up! I'm feeling very lucky today!" As he was running a power check on the Armour's internal power systems.
Another pause. Still, the Argo didn't start.
"Gaddamit...." Bhrode announced from his perch in the Gunner's platform.
"Lex?" James asked, this time very worried.
"James?" Lexa stammered. Her arms were shaking, the micro-electronic ID keys to the Argo in the ignition, in her hands, but not turned to start the engine. She looked very nervous.
"What? What's the matter?" He ventured to ask, feeling his luck drop exponentially down.
But then again, he had no idea how far it could really go. Finally, Lexa gave him the answer he didn't want. "James... I can't drive...."
"What?!?"
"I can drive a hopper... but this... is different. I can't drive... the Argo...I don't know HOW!"
Commander Rebecca von Ernst. . . . the so called Ice-Queen of the USS Prospero. . . .the infamous killer at the Battle of Nar Hallas. . . . .and the rumored developer of Starfleet's new blood-thirsty anti-Borg tactics. . . . .
. . . . .was literally shaking with fear in her little size 5’s.
Lieutenant Thomas Jordan, representative of Starfleet's JAG Corps was having a hard time reconciling everything he had heard about the famed ‘Red haired she-devil’ with the freckle-faced little kid in front of him.
To be sure he’s heard rumors of some new up and coming Tactical hot-shot, before he had gotten assigned to her case, but he couldn’t possibly see how this skittish girl was the same person mentioned in all those rumors.
“Ms. . .ah. . .von Ernst,” he offered gently, “Are you quite alright? Is there something I can do for you?”
The young Commander seemed to ignore the question, instead focusing on the newly arrived Warp Shuttle now in the process of final Docking directly outside the great floor to ceiling bay window.
“S. ..s. .s.s. .sommersby.” she stuttered in a soft whispery voice that was barely audible. “W. . .w. ..whats it doing here.?”
Frowning, Lieutenant Jordan glanced out the window himself, trying to assertion the significance of the shuttle and its relationship to his clients sudden anxiety.
~~~Warp Shuttle USS SOMMERSBY.~~~ He read the name off the side.
~~~Whats
the bid deal?~~~ He had to admit the Shuttle looked impressive as hell. It looked
like a sleek stylized Runabout with an amazing four-nacelle design. Much too
small to be of practical everyday use, it probably made one heck of a fast courier,
handy for zipping VIP’s back and forth from the border at high Warp.
~~~She did say that this was the personnel ship of Admiral. . . Hoth was it?~~~ he thought. The name didn’t sound familiar, but then again he wasn’t too aware of the upper Starfleet echelons unless it pertained to the JAG.
As it turned out, Jordan did NOT get an opportunity to meet with Hoth, for the only person who stepped off the Sommersby was a very disgruntled looking Starfleet Commander.
The 40-ish human male halted just outside the airlock frowning, and took a moment to gather his bearings.
Instantly his eyes lighted on the shivering young redhead, and if he was surprised to find the object of his search waiting for him at the door his face didn’t betray it.
Eyebrows narrowing he strode over and planted himself imposingly over Rebecca.
“Commander von Ernst.” He sneered the title as if loathe to share the same rank as the tiny girl.
“C. .c. .c.commander Zaletta. . ..sir.” she replied. The added ‘sir’ was in recognition of the fact that despite the fact they were of the same grade, Commander Zalletta had many many years seniority over poor Rebecca. “M. . . .m may I introduce. . . um. . . .” she fumbled with the name.
“Lieutenant Tom Jordan, “ the attorney stepped in offering his hand, “Pleased to meet you sir.”
Zaletta shook his hand, but didn’t offer a similar sentiment focusing his apparent ire on Jordan’s client alone.
“Um. . . .Admiral Hoth isn't. . .he’s not here with you?” she trying to nonchalantly peer around Zaletta’s shoulders.
“The Admiral is otherwise occupied, Commander.” Again with the sneer. “Despite what you think, you are not the darling of Starfleet, nor the only thing of importance in the Federation.”
~~~And yet. . .obviously important enough to get YOU on a cramped warp sled all the way out to Klingon space. . . ~~~~ Jordan thought silently. It was his job to spot inconsistencies.
“The Admiral is very busy with other projects, and for that matter I should be as well. . . . except for your recent rather poor performance.”
Gulping, Rebecca sought to explain things to Jordan. “See. . .. uh. . . Commander Zaletta here administers the day to day functioning of the new 359 Tactical school. . . .”
~~~And yet he had time to zip way out here.~~~Jordan nodded smiling innocently.
“How interesting ,” he said aloud, “Well you are in luck Commander, for Ms. Von Ernst and I were about to discuss the particulars of her Away Team debriefing tomorrow and. . .. “
Zaletta interrupted with a wave. “Yes yes, that’s all fine and good. Look Lieutenant, you just handle the details and make this as smooth as possible for von Ernst here. “
He turned to Rebecca, “YOU on the other hand Miss have been severely negligent in your duties to the School. “ he chided. “The top Federation tacticians work hard to provide you with almost daily tactical briefings, and special computer-aided learning opportunities, but its OBVIOUS that you have been neglecting them!”
Rebecca shrunk back. It was true that recently she had allowed a huge stack of PADDS to pile up on her desk untouched. She was supposed to review them all for tactical consideration and training, but found that the glowing displays typically gave her a splitting headache.
“I. .. I’m sorry, but. .. . “
“I thought so.” Zaletta was on a role for interrupting people. “Well that is a situation that will be remedied as of this instance. Come along with me Commander.”
And cruelly taking the girl by the arm he started to march off with her before Jordan protested.
“Hey, wait a second Commander, I need to debrief her. . .what about the hearing?”
“That’s your problem Lieutenant.” Zaletta tossed over his shoulder not breaking his stride. “Do your Lawyer stuff and get her past this mess.”
The attorney could only watch open-mouthed as the brisk Commander dragged the redhead off like a child, leaving him all alone in the corridor.
~~~What the Hell was that all about?~~~ he wondered.
The Major examined the data. Since he had that unfortunate accident with the Klingon ship, and finding out that in Klingons mak'tah herb mimics a massive coronary and doesn't show up on an autopsy he pretty much decided not to see the sites, mainly to avoid pissed off relatives.
He examined the communication intercepts when an enlisted crewman brought in a letter.
An honest to god old fashioned written in ink on paper letter.
It meant something official, and sent by messenger meant one thing, Family business.
Nietzchean clans always sent letters, on paper, less trouble that way. Plus it was back from the days of clan wars hand messengered letters couldn't be intercepted. This one was short brisk and to the point.
"Report to the NDV Rights of Man tomorrow for luncheon."
From his father, Charlemagne Bolivar, something was up....
What could it be...
*Backpost
Ella stared at the door across from her. Granted, it wasn't much more interesting than the ceiling she had stared for a few hours but she figured a change in scenery might help a bit. So she had climbed down from her bunk and had sat on the chair by the little table/desk area and was now engaged in deep contemplation of the door.
It was utterly un-fascinating.
But she couldn't really think of anything better to do. She didn't want to go to the gym, library, or arboretum, didn't like the holodecks to begin with, had been kicked out of Sickbay, didn't feel like going to Engineering- from which she was on temporary leave anyway- and they wouldn't arrive at lanjep for a few more days. Not that she really wanted to go. Dallas thought it would be a good idea but Ella wasn't sure.
And so she watched to door, hoping some inspiration would come.
It wasn't inspiration but instead a call over the comm that ultimately came. =Yeoman Angelene to Ensign Grey. The Captain would like to see you in his ready room=
A slight irritation was felt but otherwise blocked by the feeling of being weighted to the chair. The door looked so far away now.
=The Captain would like to add that if if takes you longer than five minutes to get up here...he'll be forced to send you on a permanent vacation to Breen, as well as have several Marines drag you to the Breen shuttle wearing only a blue towel...=
It was a pink towel, you ass, Ella thought dully.
There was some noise in the background, which sounded like Bhrode barking at his yeoman before she got back on =Belay that. He says he'll kick your ass there himself , wearing a pink towel. Err... Your towel...not that he'll be wearing it...errrr...you will... yes Sir.. I am Sir... err... hurry!= she amended, as the barking noise increased in the background of the com link.
Ella sighed, then got up from her chair. She walked slowly, as if in a slight daze, but managed to make it up to the bridge with twenty seconds to spare. Not surprisingly, the ever-odd Commander Hawksley was perched on the Command Chair.
"Who the smeg are you? Are you Commander K'Etlaynna's replacement?" he demanded, seeing her Engineering Yellow.
~~No~~ she replied in sign, without realizing it. She hadn't even been aware that K'Etlaynna was being replaced. ~~I'm here to see the Captain.~~
"What?" he demanded, not having seen her finger-talk before.
The ensign sighed, whipped out the PADD, and typed the message for him. He took the offered PADD and studied it for a moment.
"This isn't the Deuterium Fuel report I asked for." He announced, several agonizing moments later. "What the smeg sort of Engineering report is this?" he demanded, not aware that she couldn't type her reply into the PADD if he still held it.
She stared at him. ~~You're a moron~~ she signed.
The stalemate was finally broken by the harried looking Yeoman, scurrying from the Briefing room to the Ready Room. The Human female was back in a moment, looking even more frazzled.
"I'll take it from here Commander." the Yeoman announced, steering Ella towards the Ready Room.
"Fine... but I'm still looking for the smegging Fuel report! Someone tell the new Chief Engineer that..." Lysander was telling, as the Ready Room door cut him off. Blessedly.
What was this about a new chief, Ella wondered.
The yeoman announced her and Ella walked into the room and stood before him, although she eyed the chair enviously.
Bhrode looked up from the Desk, Commanding Officer (model XF-345983) he was behind and eyed the slight girl in the Yellow and black uniform before him.
"Who're you?" he demanded.
She wasn't in the mood for this. Ordinarily, she wouldn't mind being unknown to all but twice in under five minutes was a little annoying. She stood there silently. If he wanted to know who she was, he could check his damn schedule. He had called HER after all.
"Well, I can see you're an engineer... don't act as dumb as the others... say something!"
~~I don't speak sir.~~ Ella signed to him with barely suppressed annoyance. She remembered he could sign as well as she could.
~~Oh, you're the one who won't talk, aren't you? Still playing sulkie-wulkies?~~ Bhrode snapped, in his surprisingly fluid Uni-Sign.
She frowned. The man was on the verge of ruining a perfectly good depression. In fact, she felt the beginnings of anger, even more so than her feelings towards the Defiant before they had destroyed it. What right did John Bhrode have to insult her?
Bhrode glared back. Why did this pipsqueak of a girl insist that her personal battles were SO much more important than saving the Universe?
"Wake up and smell the caffeine drink. SO you're feeling put upon since DEFIANT? Big deal. Grow the Hell up." Bhrode snapped.
That did it. ~~How dare you?!~~ Ella interrupted, her eyes flashing ~~How dare you sit there and presume to.. You have NO idea what it was like.....you CANT understand...but you can sit there in your stupid little chair and say these horrible things at me just because you have never known fear or felt...weak. Well, I'm sorry. I'm not like you...I have feelings and...and~~
Where the hell did that come from?
Ella's fingers ached, probably the protests her brain was sending that were finally catching up to her hands. Her face paled. She had been contemplating earlier about not returning to Engineering. Well, it looked like she had just guaranteed that option. It was strange. It wasn't until she had kissed her career goodbye that she realized that she still wanted it. Oh well, Ella thought tiredly. It's too late now, you have to sign-
~~Go to hell, Captain.~~
Bhrode fixed her to the spot with eyes that seemed capable and able to peel paint from a starship's hull.
Oh God, she thought. He's going to kill me.
~~Sit your ass down.~~ he signed, indicating the chair bolted to the bare deck in front of his desk. Ella sat down.
~~ Let me tell you about fear, about feeling weak...~~ he signed. ~~Have you ever had people's lives entrusted to you....had to write a letter to someone's parents or siblings or family, that they would not be coming home to them? Have you ever known the feeling, that ONE little mistake is going to not only kill you, but possibly lots and lots and lots of others?"~~ he signed, his fingers sharp and brisk...as annoyingly precise as his barking manner of speech.
~~ I and other Fleet officers have to feel that way every day. What we all went through the last few weeks made us ALL feel that way. So this one time, I'm not kicking your narrow ass back to Breen. I had a reason for calling you in here, and it's not to recruit you for Breen service.~~
Ella rolled her eyes. ~~Well, what then?~~ her fingers snapped.
Bhrode seemed almost human, as he spun a small black velvet box across his 'Desk, Command' at her.
She watched suspiciously, then felt her eyes widen as she got a good look inside. Nestled on the black velvet insert was a gold rimmed black pip, denoting a Lieutenant Junior Grade. She involuntarily felt the pip she already had at her neck.
"I hereby promote you one grade, for meritous services rendered in neutralizing the threat from the USS DEFIANT. I'm also telling Commander Corinna to leave you the hell alone in Engineering. You'll talk when you're ready, although I don't know why the blazing nebulas you keep up this act." Bhrode announced.
~~I don't expect you to, Captain~~ Ella signed, her calm returning. Confusion took its place however. ~~Why?~~
~~ I want you promoted, you're promoted. I get pissed with you and Daddy can't save the Little Princess. You're on your own, for most likely the first time in your life. THIS promotion isn't being given to you for being cute, or for patting my cheek and smiling those dimples... it's for you doing what had to be done, even if you were pissing your pants when you did it. I'll deny I ever said this, but nice work. ~~ Bhrode signed.
~~I...~~ Ella's fingers began. What could she say to THAT? Here she thought that he wasn't capable of thanking anyone.
"Dismissed. Oh, Lieutenant? The next time I waste my time seeing you, leave the chip on your shoulder outside. You tell me 'Go to Hell' again, and I'll make sure you're waiting for me at the door to the place, with one of my boots up your ass."
Now that was the Bhrode she knew.
Bhrode bent his head back to the paperwork, effectively shutting out the woman before him. He didn't want her to see him smile.
Ella stared at him a second, shook her head. ~~Thank you, Captain.~~ she signed and then left.
"SONNVABITCHING GADDAMN WHOREMONGER!" screamed Victor Wilson, a.k.a. Rashid Ibn Al Corrina as his glass decanter flew across the room to shatter into thousands of pieces.
He stalked from one end of the tiny cabin to the other, rubbing the still tender scars on his face.
"It was the perfect plan... the perfect plan. So where did it go wrong?" he demanded of the thin air.
##Not Wrong...Not Logical## the ethereal fingers tickled his brain gently, as his Medusan partner made its presence known again.
"It was logical. Kill her pathetic husband... take his face and his place at her side... it was PERFECT! Damn Raven Darkstar to the pits of hell! " he screamed again, his hold on sanity periously close to descending into the red rage again. The last time he'd gotten this worked up over something ( a perceived insult from a hovertaxi driver) ten prostitutes had been sliced to death on Nova Secundus.
##Not Logical## continued the energy being, cape able of bending sentient minds to its will. A rogue Medusean was a dangerous thing, and this one had almost satiated itself on the DEFIANT. Now, it was content to do Victor Wilson's bidding... for the moment.
"SCREW your logic! I will have Rose! I will kill Raven!" Victor screamed.
One of the two Nausicaans in the room made a derisive noise. Victor smiled a tight lipped smile, almost a smirk.
The blood soaked the walls, before the red haze left him this time.
##Not Logical## repeated the Medusean in Victor's twisted mind, as he hunched over the bloody body of the Nausicaan.
The ships Sensor Net was still offline (THANKS LEO!) and no one had any idea he was squatting in the almost-empty Diplomatic Quarters. Of course, now, he'd have to leave this room. It was a abattoir of blood.
The Medusean could clean it up, and remove the memory from the minds of any who encountered the mess... but the Medusean could NOT give him his Precious Rose.
"I should have eaten his body, instead of tearing his face off for that plastic surgeon to duplicate... damn Rashid..." Victor ranted, eyeing the box that held Rashid's mummified head.
Then, pure genius struck him. Again. As it so often did after he'd killed someone.
"Is there a plastic surgeon aboard?" he asked the Medusean.
## Your Physical Shell IS Nothing.## he was told.
"GADDAMN IT, is there one with that skill aboard?" He shrieked at empty air.
## Yes. One NAmed Anna Haggerty.##
"She will change my face again... to something new... and I will use Rashid's name still... and You will have Rose forget that her husband is dead... because I will be the Chief Engineer here.... and woo my Precious Rose all Over again..." Victor promised himself.
"And I will have her." He promised the flat, cold stars in the wide porthole before him.
Then he cackled for an hour.
Daniel pressed the large button on the small pad next to the door, causing a loud chirping sound to ring inside the room. He withdrew his hand, and waited for a response. When none came, he pushed again, this time folding his arms. Again no response. He sighed and turned away, but then changed his mind and faced the door once more. He brought his knuckle up to his face and began tapping it against his chin, thinking about what he should do.
He pressed the door chime once more and waited again. After another moment of silent waiting, he brought his hand up to the pad next to the door, his fingers dancing back and forth in indecision. Finally, he pressed a button and held it, "Lieutenant? I, uh, I know you're, uh, in there. I need to talk to you. Uh ... hello? This is Daniel Scarborough."
"Fine!" was the response, and the doors opened. The room Daniel entered was dark, almost black, except for the dim light reflecting off the planet Ianjep below. Daniel stood while his eyes adjusted to the dark. The room was a mess, clothes covered all the chairs in the small living area. PADDs were strewn about the floor, thier displays shining like stars in the dark. Plates of less than half eaten food were also scattered about the chamber, some of it clearly beginning to rot, and the odor of an unwashed male pervaded the room. After a bit of searching, Daniel found who he was looking for, huddled over a desk covered in computers and PADDs, with his head buried in his arms.
"Uh .... sir?" Daniel asked, approaching the figure. It did not move, only muttered, "What do you want?" under its breath. It was wearing a very wrinkled Starfleet uniform, without the jacket. The feathers on its wings were ruffled, twisted and split.
"Captain Bhrode came by today," Daniel began, pulling out a handkerchief and covering his nose. The musk and dirt in the room were beginning to fight with his sinuses. "He asked, um, where you've been. He, uh, he, he didn't say anything about the reports that, um, you haven't been filing. I ... don't think he cares, but noticed that you haven't been reporting for duty, and, uh, well, made several threats to you."
Cutter raised his head from the table, and stared off into the distance, giving no sign that he was listening to Daniel's words. "I, uh, I told him that you were ... sick, and he asked why you hadn't gone to see a doctor ... uh, that damn Russian of a doctor, in, uh, in his words. I tried to explain that, uh, eh, that, uh, well, that it wasn't a, a, uh, a physical problem, and he asked why you hadn't gone to see a, uh, why you hadn't gone to 'get a hug from a hippie head doctor?'"
Daniel paused, spitting out a few more half sounds as he contemplated his words. "Why haven't you gone to see Counselor Dallas?" Cutter did not respond, he did not even move. "We, uh, we've kept your experiments set up for you, and we can probably get along without you ... I mean, well, there have been, you know, a few problems that would have been easier to solve if you were there, but we've solved, uh .... them. Look, sir, uh, Cutter ... Lieutenant, you should really go talk to Counselor Dallas. I, uh, I can set up an appointment for you ... if you want?"
Cutter sat there, like stone, causing Daniel to become afraid his words and requests had fallen on deaf ears. He stood silently, fidgeting only slightly, giving Cutter ample time to speak, to respond in anyway. Finally, Daniel gave up, not knowing what else to do, and left the room.
Outside, Daniel noticed someone leave the neighboring quarters. "Excuse me," he called out.
Curtis was going out for a walk to try and enjoy his last day without the command duty shift assignment that came with his promotion to Chief Ops. Which effectively meant he was serving from 3:00 in the morning to 3:30 in the afternoon. He didn't mind too much, the command experience would be useful, but he knew his home life would suffer, especially his time with Kiora.
The lieutenant was thinking about all these things when he heard the weak voice of someone calling after him. Swinging around, he addressed the man.
"Can I help you lieutenant?"
"Um, I'm Daniel Scarborough. I, uh, I work with Cutter Kara'nin ... your neighbor. He's not ... he got, um ... he's been f-- ... he was on the Defiant" Daniel finally said, and understanding fell across Curtis's face. "Would, uhh, would you happen to be friends with him?"
"Cutter?" Curtis asked. "Well, I suppose you could say that. He really keeps to himself a lot though so I wouldn't say that 'friend' is quite the right word."
"Oh," Daniel replied, a little disappointed. "I, uh ... I'm only really a colleague of his. We, we've only had, like, uh, five conversations that didn't pertain to work, since, well, since the Galaxy left space dock. He, uh, hasn't been coming to work; he, uh, really needs help. I've tried to get him to go see a psychiatrist, but I haven't been successful. Could you try?"
"Hmm..." began Curtis, "It's not really my business, but I certainly don't want him getting in trouble with the Captain over his absence. I guess I can take a minute to talk to him, Mr. Scarborough."
"Thank you," Daniel nodded. He stood for a moment, distracted, before spitting out a couple sounds and nodding again, then turned to leave.
"What a strange man." Curtis said to himself as he watched Daniel walk down the hall.
Turning toward the door, Curtis stopped for a moment to compose himself, then rang the chime.
No response.
Waiting a few more moments, he decided to give it another try. This time, from within the room, came a rather irritated voice.
"What now?"
Curtis tugged on his uniform and stepped into the room.
Inside, he was greeted by darkness. The entire room was pitch black but for the glow given off by the window.
Approaching Cutter, Curtis put forth his best diplomatic speak.
"Cutter? This may be a bad time, but I was just talking
with your friend Mr. Scarborough and he's a bit worried about you. I hear the
Captain has noticed your absences. Don't you think you should get back to work?
You're killing your career Cutter. You have a responsibility to this ship, to
Captain Brhode, to the fleet. Yeah, so maybe Brhode isn't the greatest guy in
the universe to work under, but it's you JOB for tri-tones sake! Take some pride
in it! You used to be really dedicated. Now I don't know what the hell happened,
but you'd better figure it out quick."
Cutter stood suddenly, after remaining still during Cutis's speech, shoving
his chair away from him. "Ka ist chanit! Is that all you people can say?!
Come to work! Do your thekh-ing job! Look at this desk!" he screamed. There
must have been fifteen PADDs on the desk, each lit up with a different display,
some running programs, animating a continually evolving picture on the screen.
All were filled with equations and charts Curtis couldn't even begin to decipher.
"I have been working, chanit!" Cutter cursed, picking up the closest device and flashing it to Curtis before he hurled it across the room. It spun across the small space before smashing into a pitcher of red liquid with shocking force. The pitcher shattered, letting loose the beverage to flood across the table and run onto the carpeted floor. The broken PADD sparked and popped as it drowned in the blood red drink.
"I have been working," Cutter repeated, defeated, "but nothing's coming. I can't figure out anything."
"Well for the love of Cressendo man, take some time off!" Curtis said. "Some LEGAL time off I might add. When is the last time you really had a vacation? When's the last time you had some fun? You can't keep yourself in here all the time, banging away at whatever it is your doing. It'll drive you mad!"
Cutter stared at his neighbor, silently. His jaw began to twitch, but he didn't speak. He turned and walked across the room, away from Curtis, and leaned against the wall, with his head hung low.
Shifting his attention for a moment, Curtis looked upon the cluttered desk of the science officer. Scattered PADDs and broken glass abounded. In the middle of it all, Curtis noticed a holopicture of what seemed to be Cutter with another of his species. Picking it up, he showed it to Cutter.
"Who is this here next to you?" he asked.
It took several minutes before Cutter responded, Curtis was about to give up when Cutter turned to glanced at the picture from across the room. His head returned to its former position before he began to speak, "That's Zan. She came to visit when I was posted back home, on Fruna ... between the two Galaxy missions."
A broad smile crossed Curtis' face.
"You never did show me your planet like you said. You know, I do have some holo time later today. I was going to take in Mozart's 'Magic Flute' but that could change easily."
Slowly, Cutter's head lifted from the floor to look out his window. His eyes were focused on the planet below, but weren't looking at anything. "I have work," he spit out, quietly, almost inaudibly.
"Unacceptable Mr. Kara'nin." Curtis stated, matter of factly. "I am the operations officer on board this ship and I allocate the resources, INCLUDING personnel. You're taking time off. I assure you I have just as much authority in this matter as any medical officer, and I would hate to have to find Dr. Malgin to confirm my observation. My time is in about 90 minutes. I'm going to go get a shower and clean up a bit, I suggest you do the same."
Then, glancing about the room, he added, "As for all these PADDs, I'm taking them with me for now. You are not to do any sort of work for the next few hours at least."
With that, Curtis gathered all the PADDs and any other sign of work he could find.
"I'll see you in a little while." Curtis said, smiling again as he walked out the door.
Cutter seemed to pay him no heed.
OOC: I hope people are getting a kick outta this little
side story
"Rule 203. New customers are like razor-backed Greeworms--they can be succulent, but sometimes they bite back! Never was a rule more true!"
"Shut up, Curot. We need to concentrate right now. I am guessing this RuBla isn't a friendly sort." Crom scolded over his shoulder at Curot. "The last klingon i spoke to claimed that he could be found in the Duk MaH'nyf, some bar just up the road here." Crom stopped in his tracks. Rule #111. Treat people in your debt like family--exploit them (ruthlessly).
Curot bumped into his shoulder and stumbled around the front of Crom. Crom smiled. "Curot?" he queried.
"Uuuhh yes Crom?"
"I am going to entrust the success of this negotiation to you. I think it would be a good test of your negotiating skills." He smiled again and dusted Curot off a bit.
"You really think I can?"
"ABSOLUTELY." Crom ensured. "Tell you what, i'll even be just outside the bar here, just in case things get a little out of hand." Curot smiled with glee, Crom smiled with success.
Curot handed the three bags he was carrying to Crom and grinned. "I won't let you down, Sir!" and scampered off into the bar. Crom sat down a rock and leaned against the side of the establishment and waited. He didn't expect Curot to take very long.
He popped open his beetlesnuff container and took in the scenery of lanjep, a place he wished to never return to again already. Too many klingons, too many bad attitudes and not nearly enough profit. Well, there must be vast profit, if the Nagus wants anything to do with it.
Curot came bursting out the front door, being hurled through it, and landed six feet into the street. A number of klingons boiled out of the bar after him and Curot took off like the Galaxy at maximum warp. One lone klingon stepped out of the bar after the mob, and Crom approached him from the side.
"RuBla?" he stopped as the Klingon whirled on him. "I understand you have something that a client of mine requires."
Crom could hear Curot scream all the way out of the city. He assumed a Ferengi on a Klingon planet wouldn't be too hard to find, so he tapped his comm badge with the ship. "Transporter Room, ProConsul Crom requesting transport."
=/\= Right away ProConsul =/\= came the reply and moments later Crom was standing in the transporter room. "Welcome aboard."
"I seem to have lost my Attaché somewhere in the North section of the city. If you could find him and transport him back to the ship, it would be most helpful. Just send him to my quarters." He placed a small slip of latinum on the console and the man smiled as Crom left for his quarters.
***
When Curot arrived at Crom's quarters, he was a tattered individual. Having nearly all of his clothing stripped from him, Crom could see Cuirot was in a bad mood. "Curot," he said. "I have a spare set of clothing in my quarters, go change into something suitable for business. We aren't finished yet."
Curot huffed at him and stomped off into the next room as Crom went over the ship's personnel files. "Curot?" he called out. "Do you still have that medical duplication algorithm in your master files at the store?"
Curot came running back in half dressed. "How do you kn....."
"Never mind, found it." Crom took a double-take at Curot. "Well, go finish getting dressed. Chop Chop." Curot walked back into the next room muttering something in Alpha Centaurian. Crom shrugged and activated the algorithm. He matched a personnel file with a medical file and copied some figures into a Ferengi Oscelobioduplicator, a very expensive and rare piece of equipment. When Curot came back, Crom was ready.
"So what is the plan, Crom?"
"You still have that old equipment transporter you got from Brunt?"
"Yeah, it's in the back of my storage room." Curot's face lit up. "Oooo good idea...."
***
Over an hour had passed since they got to Curot's shop, and Crom's rear end was getting sore from sitting on it for too long. "Come on Curot, I thought you knew where it was? This is taking forever!"
"Well, if I wasn't doing this ALL BY MYSELF it would happen faster!"
"Curot! How could you say that?" Crom said, mocking pain. "Would YOU trust ME to go through your storeroom on randomly searching?"
"Well, no....ah here it is!" Curot pulled out a rolled up mat and two attachable components. He rolled the mat out flat on the floor and fumbled with the buttons at the edge. After a few moments he stood up and looked at Crom. "It's ready." He smiled. He attached one of the Accentuators to the mat. "These will keep a lock on each other and will transport to each other, so we need to attach this one to Mr. Bhrode's desk and it will come back here. As long as you are still touching the Accentuator while it is on the desk, you will be transported with it."
"That seems simple enough. I'll go, just to make sure nothing goes wrong. You stay here and make sure that thing keeps working." Crom made sure he had the Oscelobioduplicator stepped onto the mat. "Send me away."
Curot punched a couple of buttons and as Crom was vanishing, called out "Good Luck!"
***
Crom appeared in the bleak office of John Q. Bhrode. He quickly fumbled with the Oscelobioduplicator to mask his biosigns from the sensors. A green light came on as the piece of equipment kicked in. He placed the Accuntuator on the desk and glanced around. Taking the Oscelobioduplicator, he flipped a switch and a small button popped up. He walked around the room and sprayed a clear mist onto a few surfaces in the room. He chuckled to himself.
He held onto the Accentuator and tapped a blue button on the top.
Both he and the desk vanished.
"So now what?"
"Well, Curot," Crom said in a proud tone. "Now we go find this bloodwine she wants. How we are going to get the head of the Head of the House of Du'Pont, I don't know."
"How long until Mr. Bhrode gets back and finds his desk missing?"
"It doesn't matter Curot. We already have someone to take the fall. Or as the Hoo-mans would say, "We got a Stooge."
TBC.......
*backpost, takes place after Bhrode or the Tiger*
Ella ran her fingers over it again, finding it difficult to believe that the new pip was actually there. She'd been rude, told Captain Bhrode off, and he had given her a promotion. He's insane, she decided. Hasn't recovered from the past mission either. Certifiable.
The image of Bhrode prowling the decks, slobbering and talking in gibberish, made her mouth twitch into a sort of smile.
Moving into the bathroom, she stopped as she saw her reflection in the mirror. While the new pip at her neck looked good, the rest of her was looking pretty horrible. Her face was still pale, with slight shadows under dull blue eyes. Her hair hung in limp curls on her shoulders. She looked shell-shocked.
Well, that would never do, she thought.
She carefully removed the pips and then the uniform, stepping into the sonic shower.
When she was clean, she stepped out. Ella did not feel like being in deep contemplation while in the shower. She grabbed her bathrobe- another pink bathroom accessory that she would eventually have to get rid of- and tied it securely. She stood there for a moment, eyed the improved appearance, and walked out to her drawers to find something to wear.
Her drawers, as always, were overflowing with clothes. Daddy's little girl indeed. She frowned at them and then scooped them out and threw them on the floor. What better way to contemplate change than to re-arrange one's wardrobe? Sitting on her knees, she began to sort through them, casually flinging apparel she knew she was never going to wear over her shoulder. Like the pink sweater her mother had given her last year. When was she EVER going to wear that again. Perhaps Indigo would have some use for her old clothes. She'd probably shred them though or at least stick them full of pins and such.
This felt better. For the past week and a half, Ella had been suffering. And the captain was right. What good was it to sit in misery? She wasn't the authority on fear. There were people out there who were, or had been, worse off than she was. It would be better to shut it all away again.
Ella set aside a strappy blue dress she adored and flung over her head a white silk blouse that she had worn only twice. Still....she paused over a pair of black slacks. The promotion helped, that was for sure. It made her believe that it was possible to go on with her life again, to take it back. Again. But she couldn't help but feel that she couldn't continue until the past was buried. For good. The Defiant had been destroyed, she'd had her revenge there.
But somewhere on Earth there was a man still probably obsessed with the perfect record.
Still obsessed because she'd let him live.
Ella bit her lower lip. It had seemed the right choice at the time but now she mentally kicked herself. If she had just gotten it over with then, it wouldn't be so difficult now. Daro Cole had told her as much but she had not listened to him.
Perhaps she could make an inquiry into his whereabouts, at least. That wouldn't be too expensive. It would have to be done carefully though, and through Daro if possible. If Mr. Daro could be found, and he could find her kidnapper, she would decide what to do then. That sounded reasonable.
She looked over at the substantial pile behind her. Too bad that if she did decide to go down to lanJep she'd probably go shopping for more clothes.
OOC: BACKPOST. BEFORE ELLA'S PROMOTION
The hustle and bustle of sick-bay was quite a sight for those who happened to walk through it. Defiant survivors were scattered all over in various states of health. Though the activity had died down a bit, there was still quite a bit of noise.
Curtis used this opportunity to sneak through the area, hoping that Dr. Malgin didn't detect him. He didn't want to face a lecture from the already grumpy physician, especially considering the current situation.
Maneuvering through the crowd, Curtis spotted the object of his visit. Over in a far corner was Ella, laying on a bed, eyes open, in seemingly deep thought.
"Ella?" he whispered, not wishing to startle her.
It was a moment before she drew her attention away from whatever she was thinking and turned to Curtis. She looked pale, tired, but her eyes suddenly came to life as she recognized her visitor. Ella moved to grab the PADD from the side table.
"Wait, wait!" said Curtis, who then began to wave his hands in a somewhat sloppy manner. He was signing. But his inexperience in the area was obvious. He was TRYING to say *how are you feeling* but Ella's amused expression afterward suggested that he had not quite hit the mark.
"Hmm...I guess I need to work at it a bit, I only just started learning a few days ago." he said, slightly embarrassed.
Ella smiled, the first real smile she'd had in days and slowly showed him how to sign *how are you feeling* correctly. Curtis followed patiently, mimicking the gesture. Then she answered him. ~~I am good~~ she lied. She reached for her computer PADD again, keyed in a quick note that would have been difficult for him to follow in sign, and handed it to him.
*IT'S SWEET OF YOU TO TRY TO LEARN :) ARE YOU LEARNING BY HOLOPROGRAM OR FROM SOMEONE?*
"Holoprogram. So I'm afraid its a bit impersonal, and not too forgiving when you mess up I might add." Curtis replied, noticing that although Ella claimed to be ok, she looked anything but.
"Ella, are you sure your OK?" he asked.
Ella nodded her head slightly. ~~I am okay~~ her hands insisted. She took up the PADD again. *GLAD TO SEE YOU WERENT HURT. I HEARD THAT GALAXY WAS NEARLY AS BONKERS, PROBABLY MORE SO, THAN ON THE DEFIANT*
"Well, things *were* a bit nuts over here, but the worst thing that happened to me was suddenly giving the whole bridge crew a musical interlude. Felt kind of good to start singing like that." he said, smirking a bit.
Ell felt her cheer begin to falter as she was reminded of her own singing onboard the Defiant but she was determined not to let Curtis see that.
"And I might add, it was a very GOOD rendition." He quipped.
*YOU'LL HAVE TO DO AN ENCORE SOMEDAY*
"But what happened over here is nothing compared to what you went through. At least none of our hallucinations turned out to be....well, real." he said, looking concerned.
Ella looked away, unsure of what to say. As much as she liked Curtis, who was probably the closest thing she had ever had to a best friend, besides her maid Laura, she wasn't about to go into a lengthy explanation of what had happened. Finally, she picked up the machine again and typed *IT WASNT REAL. IT WAS AN ECHO, NOTHING MORE.*
"Well, maybe. But I've seen the report, something doesn't have to be real to inflict real wounds." said Curtis, still concerned.
*WOUNDS HEAL, SEE?* Ella crossed her eyes and made a silly grin
to
prove her point.
"Very cute Ella." Curtis said, smiling slightly. "Look, you've been through a lot I'm sure. You're made of some pretty tough stuff. I'm not a counselor and I know you probably don't want anybody prying into anything, so I won't pester you about it. But you know, I'm here for you if you want to talk about it."
~~Thank you~~ she signed.
"Hey, its nothing, don't mention it." he answered.
She smiled at him, then grabbed the computer PADD again.
*SO, ABOUT THIS BRIDGE INTERLUDE OF YOURS....*
Curtis laughed, "Well, I'll have to give that to you another time I think. I'd better get going before Dr. Malgin notices I'm here. I'll see you later."
Waving goodbye, Curtis began to make his way, stealthily, out of sick-bay.
****
Victor stopped at the bow of the second shuttle, noticing that the remaining
engineers had drafted one of the Marines into helping them bring a third shuttle
up from storage and were trying to prep it on the pad in case it was needed.
At the moment, it wasn't looking likely as the craft had exterior maintenance
hatches open all over it and the Marine was arguing with the engineers about
some type of power coupling. ~ Doubt we'll need it. From the looks of things,
everyone that's going to make it is either already here, or out of luck. ~
Slipping the improvised bandoleer off his shoulder, he settled down into a crouch and started to work on the phaser he'd gotten from So'ka. ~ Okay, disable the audible overload warning... check. Now to set the overload to start on receipt of a signal... check. ~
A shadow occluded his light. "You get a better blast if you scrape the contacts at J7 and B2 and cross wire the phase synchronizer."
~ Log. No one else sounds like that except Raven - and Raven wouldn't give me advice on making a better bomb. ~ "Thank you, sir," Victor replied, following the advice and setting the channel for the incoming signal before looking up. "I appreciate it."
The huge Marine looked down at him, saying nothing.
"Something I can do for you, sir?" Victor asked pleasantly, his hands closing the phaser's case and threading it on the bandoleer.
"No." Log looked at him for a moment longer. "Not your job."
"I'm making it mine." Victor took up one of the other phasers and started making the modification Log had suggested to it. "Someone has to."
Log frowned darkly. "The mouse does not challenge the eagle."
"You know someone has to do this," Victor continued, ignoring the expression on the Major's face. "You'll never get away without it. If it can open doors, it can fire phasers, and anything we leave it'll just make stop working." He nodded towards the shuttle behind him. "These shuttles aren't shielded for even the output this antique has in its phasers."
Log's expression never changed.
Victor looked up then, hands still busy on the phaser, his eyes cold and feral. "It told me it couldn't die, but it was wrong, it's just forgotten how." He smiled, a wolf about to go down and meet the hunters that had him at bay, knowing the outcome and not caring. "I'm going to help it remember."
"Don't screw it up." Log grunted before he turned away and moved off, feet soundless despite the battledress he was wearing.
~ Well, that went easier than I expected. Maybe I can get this done before anyone else figures it out and gets someone to order me to stop~ He finished the last of the rewiring, slung the phasers back on the bandoleer, and stood up. ~ Already have my communicator wired to send the signal, I just need a rifle and I'm set. ~
Walking back towards the two engineers and the Marine, still ensconced in their argument, he stopped, picked up one of the plasma grenades attached to the kit the Marine had removed to work on the shuttle, and smiled. ~ Might as well shoot for the biggest bang I can. I wonder if this thing can be set to detonate on a timer after a signal? ~ He moved a few meters away, opening the grenade's actuator up and looking at the wiring. "~ Looks like it can. Let's see, the overload cycle takes.... ~
****
~ Didn't turn out perfect," Victor made his was down the corridor, stopping
to check each doorway for possible attackers, phaser rifle sweeping the way,
its movements synched to his eyes. ~ It turned out good enough, though. O'Rourke
hates me, the others think I'm psychotic and are scared of me... but they're
all alive to do it. That's all that matters. ~
He checked a branching corridor, decided it was as clear as it was going to get, and crossed it in a single movement. ~ Maybe not all that matters. That thing has to die - and if it was right, if it's the ship, or has fused itself with the ship... then the ship has to die too. ~
~ If only Log hadn't come up with that last-minute revision... ~ Victor paused to check the time. ~ Got to make certain that I meet the timetable that I gave the Gunny - at least as far as I intended to. She's a solid soldier, she'll leave when she's supposed to whether I'm there or not... which is a good thing. ~ He checked the time again. ~ A damn good thing. ~
Running his hand over the collection of hand phasers he'd accumulated from the rest of the security team and the lone grenade he'd lifted from one of the Marines back in the Shuttlebay, he nodded. ~ Four Phaser 2's wired to overload on timers and a plasma grenade. Not the best choice for the job, but you work with what you have. Maybe it'll work, and maybe it won't - but I have to try. If I can get them to go off at all, it'll know that something happened, anyway. No way is this thing walking away from this. Not after what its done to us... and to the original crew. No way. ~
He frowned, identifying an uneasy feeling that had crept up on him. ~ The Gunny. I wish she'd had gone back with Log and the rest. She's as stubborn as they come - she might be tempted to wait just a little longer than she's supposed to for me... ~ His frown deepened. ~ This would've been so much easier if she'd just gone. I can't call her, the interference is too strong - and I can't leave the bomb and come back - the entity will just dump it out of the ship or stop the timer or do something equally bad from my point of view. Dammit, why the hell couldn't she just go? ~
He paused at another corridor, checked it, and started to cross. ~ Not much further now, if the damn entity will just stay disrupted for a few more minutes, then I can plant these and... what's that? ~
He stopped, listening, trying to pick out the sound that he'd heard. ~ Did I hear anything at all? Maybe it was just a normal ship noise, or my imagination.... ~ He waited for almost a full minute, and as he was about to dismiss it, heard it again. ~ That's no ship's noise - it's a person... or a good imitation of one. ~
He started to take a step forward, looked down at the improvised explosives hanging off him, and stopped. ~ What if it's a trap? What if... it... is trying to lure me away? What if... Oh hell. If the damn thing knew where I was and wanted me dead, I'd be dead. That means that either it doesn't know - or it doesn't care. ~
He took the step, then another, and another, slowly working his way down the hall with a slow, careful stride. ~ With as many folks unaccounted for as we have I can't take the chance that it's not real, that this isn't one of them. No one's staying here where that thing can play with them if I can help it. ~ Victor worked his way down the hall, the soft, almost inaudible sound repeating only once more before he reached a door labeled 'Chief Engineer's Office' and the small inset to the side of it that gave access to one of the ship's Jefferies Tubes - and the source of the sound.
She was curled up into a fetal position at the base of the ladder leading into the Jefferies Tube, almost as though she had fallen from within it. She was - or appeared to be - a slender Galaxy crewman, still in her EVA suit except for the helmet and gauntlets which were nowhere to be seen, and a with PADD on the floor beside her. Her hair, brown and curly, was pulled back and gathered at the nape of her neck, and what Victor could see of her face was marked by terror, her eyes seeing nothing but whatever horror the Defiant-entity had summoned up from within her. As he watched, she made the sound he'd heard again, a tiny, wordless noise of fear, barely more than an exhaled breath.
~ Damn. ~ Checking behind him, Victor carefully moved to the side and checked up the Jefferies Tube with a quick movement of his head. ~ That's clear, anyway. ~ Crouching down next to her, he frowned, looking at her terror-filled face. ~ She's one of ours all right. I remember her from the investigation back when Kragg was killing crewmen. Name's a color if I recall right... White or Black... Grey, that was it, Grey. Ella Grey. I cleared her back then without ever having to interview her. She's the one that doesn't talk. ~
Checking the Jefferies Tube again, he reached out and touched her on the arm gently. ~ If I'm lucky, then she'll snap out of it easily and I can still drop these improvised bombs off... but I'm damned if I'll leave her here, regardless. She's small enough that I can carry her out of her without a problem if I have to. ~ "Grey? Can you hear me?" ~ Please God, if she's going to be affected, let her faint rather than scream and fight me - she's been through enough, she doesn't need me knocking her out too. ~
It wasn't like awakening from a dream or nightmare. The magic fog didn't thin to reveal the real world beneath, glistening and beautiful. If anything it was like a cold slap. One moment Ella lay huddled on pavement, among trash and other filth that she really didn't care to identify. The sounds of someone approaching had driven off her attacker but the damage had been done. She was bleeding. She was broken. She could barely breathe. And then a sharp tug on her arm and she was back on the Defiant, almost like she had never left. The deck was still darkened and quiet, although she could have sworn she heard the faint echo of laughter.
She was still broken. She was sure her body was covered with dark purple bruises as before. Ella could feel the broken ribs, fractured leg. Her stomach felt like a human punching bag and, of course, her throat was probably surrounded by a necklace of bruises.
Ella blinked, tried to focus. The man beside her was talking to her again. She was having a hard time following his words.
Victor saw Ella's eyes flicker once before opening, the pupils struggling to refocus on him and not whatever terror she'd been seeing. ~ No screams yet, that's something good anyway. ~ As he watched, her eyes flicked around the hall before she locked in on him and managed to focus enough to recognize him as a fellow crewman, a tiny bit of the tension leaving her body. "Can you walk?" he asked, hoping the answer would be affirmative, but not expecting it. ~ I'm going to have to carry her, and that ends my run against the warp core. ~ A curious mixture of relief and regret filtered through him for an instant before he crushed it out, and he forced the frown on his face to smooth out.
She shivered. It was strange how history could repeat itself. Weren't those the exact words she had heard the first time she had been rescued? Ella tried to move, found her body unwilling. Screaming. She shook her head, coughed a bit.
~ Damn. Too much to hope for, I guess. ~ Victor nodded once. "No problems, Grey. I'll carry you. There's a shuttle waiting back in the Shuttlebay to get us out of here." ~ Looks like I'll be seeing the Gunny again after all. Hope she *stays* now - I don't want this kid getting dead because of me. ~ He paused, and then asked in a gentler tone. "You okay with that?"
No, Ella thought dully. I want to be able to walk out of here on my own. But she had to accept that she couldn't. She nodded slowly.
"All right," he nodded. With a single glance at the door to their left that admitted into the top of the three-deck rise at the forward end of the warp core, he stripped off his improvised bandoleer and stacked it at the base of the ladder. As he turned away he paused and looked up into the Jefferies Tube again. ~ Hell, can't hurt. These things usually access into something important. No time to track it down on the plans, so... ~
He picked the bandoleer up and tapped each of the phasers and the grenade, activating the timers. They blinked, acknowledging that they were ready to receive the signal that would start the phasers on overload and sync the grenade to that cycle for simultaneous detonation. He leaned in and loped the bandoleer around one of the ladder's rungs, leaving it hanging there. ~ Hope you're a little busy and miss that you bastard. Might not be the warp core, but at least this way I'll get to see if it works. ~
That accomplished, he turned to the ensign and, moving slowly enough that she could see what he was doing, crouched down next to her again, and helped her into a more normal sitting position. "You might want this when we get back," he offered, placing her PADD in her lap. "Ready?"
She picked up the PADD and, for some reason, felt the sudden urge to burst into tears. The metal felt cold and foreign to her. She pushed away those feelings away and typed a quick response on the machine. Ella turned it around for him to see. *YES*, it said
"Okay, let's do this." Still moving slowly, he gathered her into his arms, letting her settle against his chest. ~ All right, just back the way I came, and take the emergency stairs back in the lounge mess and we're out of here. ~ He stood, careful not to bang either of their heads on the Jefferies Tube, and started back the way he'd came.
He'd gotten three steps when a vibration in the deck beneath his feet stopped him. ~ What the...? ~
\\Ahem\\
Victor glanced down at his feet, then at Grey. "Did you...?"
She could feel the vibration even in his arms. She nodded and then looked around them, wondering if a new terror was about to be unveiled. Before Victor could respond, the vibrations started again.
\\Goooooooooood Morning DEFIANT!!! Air Quick is now in service on the Main Shuttle Deck. Anybody left needs to boogie on down here to get out, or we are in mucho trouble-o\\
~ That has to be for real, there's no way the entity could come up with something as bizarre as Quick being useful. ~ Victor stared moving again, doing his best to keep from jostling Ella to much as he picked up his pace. ~ Guess we're covered even if the Gunny left a little early - as long as I get there before the entity figures out what's happening. ~ "Sorry for the bumpy ride, Grey. Hang on."
Ella gave a jostled shrug. It hurt like hell.
\\Again I say... Last Call for getting the hell out of here. So let's go!!\\
~ I'm moving as fast as I can, you lunatic. Now stop doing that before the damn entity decides to show up and smack all of us into someone's version of Hell for giggles when we're gathered together! ~ The corridor slid by quickly, giving way to the observation lounge and then the mess area attached to it. For an instant debating whether or not to risk a glance out the observation window, Victor decided against it. ~ I don't think I'll be looking into any mirrors for a while. I might not like what I see looking back at me. ~
The stairs moved by in a blur, and then they were at the door that let out into the main cargo bay. "Hold on," Victor whispered as he edged up to the door. "We need to check the bay and make sure it's clear - there were some Marines shooting at... whatever it was that they were seeing... in here when I came through last. Can you look in while I work the door control?"
She nodded her head again as he shifted his grip so that she would have a better view.
Victor nodded. "Here we go." He shifted his grip and worked the controls swiftly, the door opening long enough for Ella to see into the Cargo Bay, and then closing quickly.
The Cargo bay had been torched. Huge burn scars were embedded in the cargo containers; dark spots had darkened the floor and walls. Equipment lay broken and scorched and she might have seen a few bodies. Of course, who really knew at this point?
"Anything?" Victor whispered.
*FIREFIGHT* Ella keyed in and then showed him.
"Damn," he sighed. "I was hoping they'd snap out of it before it got that bad." He listened for a moment. "Doesn't sound like there's anyone still shooting in there. Maybe Log pulled them all back to load onto those shuttles he had a team prepping." ~ If that's what it is, I hope he disarmed them. I still don't hear anyone, but they might be thinking they're hiding from... something. So how do I handle this? She's not in any shape to walk - from the way she's moving and breathing, she's got to be black and blue inside her EVA suit. Don't know what her chosen fear was, but whatever it happened to be, it involved her getting knocked around a lot. ~
Ella watched him, wondered what he was thinking. He was probably worried about getting out in time. Ella didn't blame him. She would have gladly run if she could have.
"Okay," Victor sighed. "Here's what we're going to do: You hit the door control, and I'll start moving. I don't think anyone's still in there reliving their version of the campaign to liberate Betazed, but just in case I don't want to stay and have a cup of coffee with them. I'm going straight for the cargo bay doors that let into the Shuttlebay. Once we're past those, we ought to be clear." He paused, and then added. "No matter what happens, I'm not stopping for it, and I'm not dropping you."
Victor caught Ella's eye and smiled reassuringly. "We're getting you out of here, I promise. That thing's not going to get its hands on you again." A flicker of determined resolve flashed through his eyes. "No matter what happens," he added softly "I promise you - I won't let it get you again."
She bit back the insane urge to giggle. Three times the charm, Ella, she thought. You thought you were safe before, why should now be any different? But the man was doing his best so she gave him a small smile, hoping that it didn't seem to forced. If they got off the ship alive, she'd have to buy him dinner sometime.
"You ready?" He shifted his grip on her, taking a series of deep breaths. "On three. One..." ~ Do not mess this up, Krieghoff! ~ "Two..." ~ You're not losing another one! You're not! ~ "Three!" ~ Go! ~
The door swished open with the characteristic sound that the actuators possessed in the era of the Defiant's design, and Victor went into motion, feet pumping and his phaser rifle slapping against his back. He zigged to the left around a crate that had been blown open by phaser fire, passed another one that was absolutely untouched. No fire ranged their way, and Victor took a chance to cut down the distance and zagged back to the right past a crate that had been clawed open from within, traces of green fluorescent blood still dripping from the ruptured metal petals that had been its sides.
Behind them something moved, a shadow larger than the two of theirs combined rearing up on the wall ahead of them. ~ Dammit! Why couldn't the idiot that this is left over from be scared of something small? ~ Victor leaned forward, trying to shield Ella from a potential attack as he sidestepped once to the right again, using his shoulder to take the impact of striking a stack of crates as he threatened to lose his balance.
Ella tried to tighten her grip around his neck and not choke him at the same time. Over his shoulder she could make out the creature behind them, although to her it was more of a mass of shadow then anything definite. It appeared to have hands and fingers though and those were stretching out for them. Ella took a quick breath, no mean feat in her condition, and stopped herself from screaming.
~ Don't look back. Do *not* look back. Keep running! ~ Breath loud in his ears, he tightened his hold on his charge and deliberately ran his shoulder into another crate to give himself the chance to keep on his feet. "Good - that worked. Kept Grey from getting hit too. Not doing my shoulder any good though, felt like something started to give that time. ~
As the door to the Shuttlebay loomed in front of him, Victor realized that he was still going too fast, that he couldn't stop in time. "Hold on!" he panted, then spun about, taking the impact on his back, sparing Ella.
Ella's eyes widened as she was spun about. Falling backwards, she was able to get a better view of the thing. The shadows had dropped to reveal a thing out of science fiction. She couldn't help but give a quick shriek, even though it came out hoarse. They landed hard, although he took the worst of it and Ella rolled off of him and made her way to the door.
Momentarily shaken, Victor's mind wandered for a split-second as he got his first look at the creature behind them, automatically cataloging it. ~ Francosian Land Kraken. Armored skin. Sixteen tentacles with organic steel grasping tips. Distributed circulatory and nervous system. Carnivorous. Only hunted successfully six times in the wild with less than vehicle-mounted energy weapons. ~ He blinked, absurdly trying to decide if he could get to his rifle, then discarded the idea. ~ We are in trouble... ~
Just under three meters tall, and easily that wide, the Land Kraken shambled forward, flattening a cargo contained in its path absently. A group of tentacles reached for them, the rest writhing in the air or steadying the remains of a Marine dangling from the beast's clacking beaked maw. Victor looked down, realized his hands were too far out of position to reach the door controls - or a weapon - and grimaced. ~ Hope Grey's in position to open the door, because I'm not... ~
Ella pushed the button.
The door whirred but remained closed, something jamming the mechanism.
Shit, Ella thought.
~ No, dammit, no. ~ Victor looked at the ensign as she worked on the controls, the shadows of the Kraken's tentacular graspers looking larger against the wall around her. ~ She's not going to make it, not unless I...~
"Hey!" His voice was loud in the open space of the bay, echoing and making it sound as if he were a giant. "Over here!" He straightened up, moving away from Ella and waving his arms to attract the Kraken's attention. "I'm the one you want!"
The Kraken's tentacles halted, a few turning his way, but more than enough to tear Ella apart remaining undecided.
Ella couldn't help but pause and watch, wondering if she would be able to throw her body clear if the tentacles decided to move her way again.
"Get the door open and get out of here, Grey!" he snapped, shrugging the phaser rifle around and thumbing it on. ~ Can't use anything powerful enough in the way of settings to really hurt it or I run the risk of blowing a hole in the side of this relic. All I can do is irritate it. ~ "I'll keep it busy as long as I can." He fired once, from the hip, the pulse of energy scorching the Kraken's body plating. "Go!"Ella fumbled with the controls again.
The attack had the desired effect, as the creature turned its full attention to Victor, a lashing nest of tentacles snapping out at him as he dove to his left, drawing its attention further from Ella. Several missed outright, and a few more tore through crates and debris, scoring the floor and wall as Victor kept rolling, sparks flying behind him as the organic steel graspers missed again and again.
~ Glad this thing has poor depth perception... of course with all those arms it doesn't need much.... ~ He scrambled up and suddenly dove forward, sliding on his stomach as the Kraken's tentacles swooped back for another go at him, firing the rifle as he went. The bursts were more accurate than he'd had a right to expect, most of them striking the Kraken or just missing it, but none of them doing any real damage. ~ At least it's worrying about me and not her. ~
She made a frustrated noise, slammed her fist upon the control panel. Why won't you open, she wanted to cry. She couldn't concentrate, the pain, the creature...it was just too much. Too much. I can't...think...I just can't...God, concentrate, Ella. It's just a door. You used to be able to override locks on shuttlecraft, for Pete's sake!
Another crate disintegrated under the impact of the Kraken's tentacles, and then another as Victor doubled back, panting with the effort of staying ahead of the creature's grasp. ~ C'mon, Grey - I can't keep this up much longer. Get yourself clear so I can... ~ His foot struck some debris, and he lost his balance, sprawling onto the deck. ~ ...die. ~
The Kraken clacked its beak and let out a whistling cry, a group of tentacles rising to punch down and pin Victor to the deck. Thick legs thudded against the deck as it moved forward for the kill, their fall like peals of doom.
Ella forced herself to breathe, closed her eyes, and punched the buttons. The door whirled once again, sparks flew, but it opened clumsily. Ella threw herself against the retreating door, making sure it wouldn't slide close. She turned back to motion the lieutenant and cried out as she saw him pinned underneath the monster. Ella did the only thing she could think of, she chucked her computer PADD at the thing's head.
~ Or not. ~ As the Kraken turned, the PADD bouncing off its head enough of a distraction to interest it, Victor twisted and kicked off with his feet, shoving himself back towards the Kraken. His rifle came up as he slid, and a beam lanced out, tracing a line of fire across the creature's front - and over one baleful eye.
The beast screamed like a berserk steam engine, tentacles lashing in all directions as the eye exploded in a cloud of superheated steam and gore. Crates were knocked aside and crushed in its agony, one tentacle embedding itself into the deck with such force that the grasping tip remained wedged in it despite jerks by the Kraken until, with a wet tearing noise, the tentacle finally ripped free, the organic steel grasper remaining behind as it tore away in a spray of luminescent green blood.
As the Kraken's cries reached for new heights following the act of self-mutilation, Victor finished scrambling away, dodging desperately as the lashing tentacles whipped around in frenzied arc. One dipped low enough that he had to dive under it, the muzzle of his phaser rifle flying free as the weapon jerked and a grasping tip passed through it.
He discarded it, rolled, and started running again, eyes on the door that Ella was holding open for him. ~ Don't look. Run. Looking will get you dead. Run. ~ He glanced over his shoulder anyway, almost tripping over some debris. ~ You looked! Idiot! ~ With a final burst of speed, he turned his stumble into a slide like a baseball player and passed through the door feet-first as Ella closed it behind him, flipping the lock.
Victor lay there for a second, breathing hard, ignoring the protests from his legs and buttocks. ~ Durasteel has a higher coefficient of friction than dirt. Remember that. ~ With a sigh, he sat up, and glanced at Ella. "You okay?"
She could feel the blood draining from her face, the broken bones, and the heartbeat in her throat. Still, she wasn't out there. She nodded.
"Good." He got to his feet carefully. "Now let's get you out of here." He eyed her critically. "You okay to walk, or would you like a shoulder to lean on?"
~~I think I want a very large alcoholic drink~~ Ella signed with stiff fingers.
Victor nodded slowly, trying to remember the class he'd taken years earlier in sign language. ~ She wants a... drink. ~ He brought his hands up and awkwardly signed agreement. ~ Can't blame her, there. ~ "Let's get you home," he added aloud.
The shuttle that Log had promised to leave was sitting on the pad, waiting. As they approached, Victor made out the ring of pattern enhancers that Quick must have brought with him - and something else that brought him up short. ~ Where's the Gunny? Did she get smart and head back already? Wait, what's that by the... Oh hell. ~
"Wait a second, Grey." He made certain she was able to stand on her own. "I need to check something."
With a cautious step, Victor moved up to the figure he'd spotted, discovering that it was not *in* the deck as he'd first thought, but transformed and spread across it. ~ Dammit, don't be the Gunny. ~ Careful not to step on any of the errant worms, he felt a tinge of relief as he looked down and realized who the figure was. ~ That has to hurt. ~
Crouching down on his heels, Victor waited for the head with its sunken eyes to turn towards him before speaking. "You've looked better, Doc. This whole larva-thing is not a good look for you."
"Krieghoff..." The head's brow creased with a frown. "You... never joked... in my game..." Jebediah observed distantly, the mass of larvae that comprised his body squirming obscenely.
"Who said I was joking now?" Victor's forehead mirrored Quick's. "What happened? What did it do to you?"
A larva crawled out of Quick's nose and into his mouth. "Nothing... everything... All for nothing... Everything nothing..."
~ Everything's nothing? What is he? Life - that's it. Life is nothing, pointless. ~ "It told you that everything was pointless? That this was all for nothing? That life was meaningless?"
"...yes..."
"And you *believed* it?" ~ How can anyone that smart be that stupid? ~
Quick's eyes closed and he cried tears of mucous-covered larva. "...was right. Everything... pointless... no beauty..."
~ I'm never going to get him out of here if I don't snap him out of this. ~ "Bull" Victor shook his head. "That's bull, Doc. I don't know what it told you - maybe it was the truth, maybe it was a lie - but whatever it was, it doesn't matter."
"Exactly... nothing matters..."
"The hell it doesn't." Victor's voice dropped, becoming softer but no less urgent. "If you quit trying, if you give up, *then* everything's pointless. If you let that thing win, let it do this to you, that's when everything you've ever thought, or seen or done or dreamed will all have been meaningless."
"No... it's already pointless... No Heaven... just blackness..."
"The hell it is, Doc. That's just what it wants you to think. It's eating your despair and pain up like candy; it'll say anything to get another bite." ~ C'mon, Doc, throw me a bone here. Give me something to work with. ~ "You're a smart man, Doc, know a lot about physics, right?"
Jebediah laughed weakly. "I thought I did... but what does it ...matter?"
"Bear with me, Doc. If we accept that physics describes the way our universe works, if the basic concepts are correct - because we can prove them - then there has to be an opposite, a counter reaction, to every force or reaction, right?"
"Yes..."
"The how the hell can you think that there's no Heaven with this thing screwing around with your head? If there's anything that fits the description of a demon in the universe this thing is it. How then, can it exist without an opposite? Without Heaven?""I..." Quick frowned.
"How can something like this thing exist without a greater light to cast the shadows that it hides in? How can something so evil and twisted exist without beauty to stand in counterpoint to it? For there to be ugliness and fear, there have to be beauty and love to compare them to." He paused taking a breath. "Don't you see, Doc? Ii can't exist without an opposite to define it - and that means that for it to be what we know it is, there is purpose, there is beauty to the universe."
"I...I think," the Quick/thing paused pondering for a moment, "I.. think the existence of evil such as this...would preclude the existence of a good in the universe..."
"You mean how can God let us suffer?" Victor scoffed, "Come on Doc that's a mental trap and you know it. I don't know what bizarre theology your crazy brain has come up with, but you ought to know where suffering comes from."
Quick stared Victor in the eyes, considering his words for the first time, "Ourselves." He said, "We are the authors of our own personal hells."
"Exactly."
Quick continued, "From the legends of Orpheus and Eurydice, to Dante's visions of Inferno, the sufferings of hell lay in the constructs of one's personal sins and insecurities." He glanced at Victor curiously, "We suffer in the manner most horrifying to each of us individually. Our fears and regrets giving power to our torturers."
Victor nodded, "Absolutely Doc, you wouldn't expect an agnostic Vulcan to go to pieces over a sterile god-less universe like you have. . . . Just like you would not be bothered by having an 'unduly emotional' hell. Hell is what you make of it."
The Doctor glanced down at his wormy self as if trying to evaluate what in his drug-crazed mind had produced this wormy form of oblivion.
"I had a...bad trip once...little spiders and critters crawling all over my body..." he mused.
~Is he getting more solid? Is that my imagination? How the hell could I tell? ~ "C'mon, Doc. You've got to get over this. It's eating your dreams, taking them away from you. Fight back, don't let it. If you let your dreams go, then it's over, the thing wins."
Quick shrugged... ~shrugged? He wasn't able to do that a minute ago, or was it merely an illusion created by his squirming shoulders ~
"Why... shouldn't I... let go? Why... try?"
Victor leaned closer, his voice firm. "Because if you don't fight for your dreams full of light and beauty, Doc, then the only dreams left will be like mine... and I don't want to wish that on all the children yet to be born." He frowned, trying to will Quick to understand. "Fight back, doc. Fight for your dreams. Make them real. Fight."
With those words, Victor leaned back, spent, his voice suddenly tired. "Pull yourself together and stop lying there, squirming like a bad bowl of Klingon breakfast food, Doc. We've got to get home" Then, an incongruous thought hitting him, he added, "Besides, if you don't, then I'll never find out if my damned elf will see his forests again." ~ Hell, stupid as it sounds I suppose that's true - and I guess it can't hurt.... ~
Quick let out a brief laugh. "Ha! Your forests! Dude, what your Elf doesn't realize is while he was away exploring King Villa's Castle he..."
Quick stopped himself, shocked a bit to find he had been momentarily distracted from his predicament by something as trivial as a game.
Victor was swift to recognize the change. The Doctors whole 'body' seemed to shimmer for a second there as he had spoken.
~The game? All of this, and it's that damned *game* that snaps him out of it? ~"What?" he urged, playing along with the theme. "What's going on back in the forest? If you messed with my homeland Doc, I promise that someone's going to pay, so help me. . ."
A mischievous smile actually crossed the Doctors face. "I guess you'll just have to find out Mr. Ranger. . . "
And with that. . .Quick 'pulled himself together' and stood. The transition from one state to another so subtle and smooth that the onlookers had to wonder if their eyes had been deceiving them.
"Klingon breakfast food indeed." The Doctor sniffed, "Such comparisons will cost you dearly my good lad."
He smoothed back his wild hair, "If there is nothing to live FOR," he said, At least I can live AGAINST something. Worms...Ha!"
Victor nodded once, and stood up, only realizing that Ella and Gunny Goldstein had been standing behind him for the entire conversation. The Gunny, having appeared out of the shuttle at some point judging by the open hatch, was supporting Ella, and both of them were looking at him oddly. "Time to go," he announced tiredly, starting for the ring of transporter enhancers so he didn't have to answer any questions.
He stopped outside the ring and waited for the others to enter before he tapped his communicator and sent the signal to start the phasers building to overload. The device chirped once, and he took it off, looking at it. ~ What if it didn't get through? What if I need to... ah. ~ Popping the small cover, he jammed the contact down, setting the device to constantly loop the broadcast and skimmed it back into the hangar. ~ That ought to do it. ~
"Just leaving a wake-up call," he explained in answer to Quick's curious glance as he stepped into the circle with the others, "Gunny, can you call for a pickup?" ~ Dammit, what if it doesn't work? I need a back up plan? I need... ~ His eyes skimmed over the shuttlecraft and stopped. ~ I need a shuttle. ~ "Try one of the aft transporter stations, see if they're taking visitors today."
As the Gunny's voice snapped out a request for the beam-out, Victor smiled once, coldly. ~ One way or another, you're going down, you bastard, One way or another. ~ The familiar hum and lights of the transporter sounded around them as he turned and said, "Gunny, weren't you supposed to leave when I didn't make the deadline?"
****
"What the hell do you mean, 'supposed to leave?' Betty snapped as they
exited the Transporter Room, the momentarily lucid Transporter Chief breaking
into song behind them.
"Love to stay," Jebediah interjected, "but there's lots to do!" He started down the corridor, adding over his shoulder, "There has to be another spaghetti strainer on the ship somewhere!"
"No need for both of us to get killed, Gunny," Victor pointed out calmly, as he watched the revitalized scientist depart. ~ Just as weird as ever. Shuttlebay, I need a Shuttlebay... What deck are we... Fourteen. Good - the Auxiliary Shuttlebays are right above us on Thirteen, there'll be something there I can use. ~
"No need... So you *were* just going to ride off and blow yourself up like some cheap holo-hero?" Her eyes flashed through her open visor. "What kind of plan is that? What were you thinking? Or *were* you thinking? If I'd thought that..."
Ella listened to the two of them, a faint amusement slowly trying emerge from the massive shutdown that was building. With the Kraken gone and her attackers gone, she was beginning to feel herself go numb and welcomed it.
"Gunny," Victor interrupted, stopping when he turned and got a good look at Ella. ~ She's not in good shape, but...~ He stepped up, giving the ensign an arm to hold. "Gunny," he started again, "I'm about to be a little busy right now. Can this wait?"
"Busy?" Betty snapped. "What do you mean, 'busy?' This isn't another one of your great plans, is it? Because let me tell you, the last one wasn't so hot."
Victor ignored her for a second, doing nothing to improve Betty's mood. "Grey," he asked carefully. "I need your help with something. I'd do it myself, but I'm not good enough with computers. I won't lie; this isn't authorized, and if you help you may wind up in a lot of trouble - but it is necessary. We have to stop that thing before it gets out of the interphase and loose in our universe. Do you understand?"
Ella swayed for a second on Victor's arm, caught herself, and nodded in agreement. What did she care for rules and regulations now anyway?
He turned back to Betty. "What about you, Gunny? You up
for some payback? I could use your help, too." ~ Even if you're not going
to help, don't stop me, Gunny, please. It has to die, we have to stop it...
~
The Marine looked at Victor and Ella and snorted. "You nerps would just mess it up if I wasn't there to stop you."
Victor felt something inside him relax. "Thanks." He turned, stopped when he realized how awkwardly Ella was moving, and reached down to pick her up. "Sorry Grey, but we're short on time," he apologized as he situated her and started for the nearest turbolift. "We haven't got to go far."
Ella sighed and, since she was in no position to argue, relaxed in his arms.
"What's this great plan?" Goldstein demanded as followed Victor, easily keeping pace with him. "Where are we going?"
Before he could answer, they reached the nearest turbolift, and Victor awkwardly keyed in a Security priority override with one hand after shifting his hold on Ella. ~ Hang in there, Grey, not much longer now and them we can get you to sickbay. ~ "Sure you want to know, Gunny?" He looked up. "If I tell you, then you lose plausible deniability if this goes south on us. Right now, you're just following orders that you think are lawful." He glanced at Ella. "Both of you lose it. Your call."
Ella let go of Victor's tunic with one hand to sign assent.
"The day I need someone to protect me is the day I lay down and die," Betty snapped. "Stop acting like an idiot and spill it!"
"All right," Victor said softly as the turbolift car arrived. He started to step in; stopped when he realized that there were four crewmen dancing to music only they could hear in the car, and sighed. ~ Dammit, I don't need this now. ~ "Gunny, can you get them out of there so we can get going?"
"Damn right I can." Betty stepped up, gauntleted hands reaching for the crewmen and spilling them out into the hallway one after the other. "Ask for something difficult next time."
"It gets better from here, Gunny - I promise," Victor said, stepping over the sprawled crewmen. "Auxiliary Shuttlebay Two," he announced as the turbolift doors closed.
~~Shuttlebay?~~ Ella signed.
"I need a shuttle," Victor explained. "One of the runabouts will do, and they're in Auxiliary Two."
"Shuttle? What do you need with a... You're *not* going back there!" Betty informed him, crossing her arms. "Not unless you can get through me, first."
"I wasn't planning on going anywhere." The turbolift doors opened, and Victor moved out into the corridor, making the left to the Shuttlebay doors.
~~I don't understand~~ Ella's fingers flashed. ~~Why do you need a shuttle then?~~
"Because it's bigger than a rock."
"Bigger than a..." Betty's eyes were flashing again. "What the hell are you talking abou...?" The doors to the Auxiliary Shuttlebay opened up in front of them, revealing the shuttles lined up on their pads, a runabout queued up on the pad to launch. As she looked at it, her eyes widened as she got it. "The Odyssey," she breathed.
~~Odyssey?~~ Ella questioned. ~~What?~~
"The USS Odyssey," Victor nodded, heading towards the runabout at a trot. "Galaxy Class. Lost with all hands in the Gamma Quadrant at the start of the Dominion War."
~~What does that have to do with us?~~ Ella asked, shifting positions so she could use both hands.
Victor didn't answer until they were inside the runabout, and he had Ella seated in front of the ship's controls. "The Jem'Hadar killed the Odyssey by ramming one of their fighters into it while under warp," he explained. "Since we don't have any Jem'Hadar handy," he waved a hand to indicate the vessel they were in, "we're going to have to make do with this, instead."
Ella's eyes widened. ~~You're going to ram the Defiant with this?~~ her fingers stuttered. ~~You'll be killed!~~
"Actually..." Victor looked over his shoulder at Betty, who was alternating between starting the runabout's warm-up sequence and watching him to make certain he didn't try to pull anything. "No. I wasn't planning on any of us being inside her when she made her run against the Defiant."
"Damn right!" Betty exclaimed, glaring at him.
~~What do I need to do?~~ Ella signed.
"What I need is the map of the interphase that Helm put together. We've got to get that uploaded into the runabout so it will be able to navigate a course to ram. We've also got to disable some safety interlocks so the computer will let us program that ramming course in the first place - that's what I can't do. Can you handle that?"
Ella looked at the board. Before, she had come out of her attack by wanting to be independent, which had lead to her wanting to fulfill her childhood dreams of becoming an engineer. Vengeance had come later. This time around, she didn't want to wait. She wouldn't rest until she knew this ship was in pieces. ~~Yes,~~ she signed fiercely. ~~I can.~~
"Good." Victor looked back at Betty, who was working at the Engineering console. "If you two can get this going, I'll go deal with the launch controls and get things ready out there. I'll be back fast as I can."
Betty nodded, her look telling him that if he did anything other than that it was going to be his ass. "Go."
Victor nodded once and moved for the door.
****
Forgotten by everyone, a combadge lay at the back of the Shuttlebay, constantly
sending its signal over and over again, trying to punch through the interphasic
interference.
Around it, the Defiant twisted and groaned like the thing alive that it was, systems coming online as the vessel started to turn and move out of the interphase slowly.
For an instant, as the position of the ship shifted, the interphase lifted - and a deck above the lonely device sending out its call, another device answered it.
****
"Okay, did we think of everything?" Victor asked, looking from Betty
to Ella. "Grey has the navigational data loaded and the safety interlocks
off - and she thought of locking the systems out so the runabout can't be called
back or diverted after we kick her out. The Gunny has everything else on the
runabout prepped and ready to go outside that." He glanced at the runabout
and the freshly painted words Betty had marked across her bow. "And she's
got a message for that thing out there added to the ship. Have we missed anything?"
The two women looked at each other and shook their heads. "No," Betty frowned. "Unless there's a problem on your end, we're set."
Ella nodded her agreement.
~ They're both good people. I hope this doesn't go wrong and drag them down with me. ~ "Then let's do it," he nodded.
He turned to the console and tripped the switch that started the launch sequence, the landing tractors pushing the runabout forward and through the field holding the bay's atmosphere in. As they watched, the starfield outside the bay began to shift, the tractors automatically compensating for the motion.
"We're moving." Victor checked the panel in front of him. "Looks like someone on the bridge has decided that this is a bad place to be."
"About damn time," Betty observed, slightly more relaxed now that it was apparent that Victor couldn't change anything and try to pilot the runabout on its suicide run manually.
The Galaxy pirouetted gracefully, the view from the open bay swinging around until the aft end of the ship was pointing at the Defiant, affording the three a good view past the nacelles. The runabout finished exiting the ship and hung there, an arrow poised in the bow, as the navigational sensors watched the ever-shifting interphase for the moment's opening they needed.
~ Well, that's going to make things easier for us. Now if the Defiant will just... ~ Victor's thoughts stopped abruptly as the older vessel's shields came up, sparking and reflecting particles from a hundred universes. "That's not good," he observed.
"She's coming after us," Betty noted, looking at the display in front of them where Ella had patched into the sensor readouts to let them know when the runabout was about to go. "Weapons powering up."
Ella's hands danced from her position in the control chair. ~~Can she hurt us? The ship is so old.~~
Victor had to signal for her to repeat herself, the looked up at Betty. "Gunny, you got any idea if that relic can hurt us? The specs say no, her weapons are too weak compared to modern shielding, but... What does your gut say?"
"My gut," she glared, "says that if we're stupid enough to sit here and let it shoot at us in order to find out, we deserve to get hammered."
"I don't know that we can do anything though - whoever's flying the ship has their finger on the guns." Victor glanced at the readouts. "That's why I didn't take the easy route and just shoot a torpedo at it, Gunny - I don't have Bridge Certification and the required Tactical codes, and this required fewer explanations." He looked up at the two women. "Before the fact, anyway."
"So we just sit here?" Betty demanded
~ Something, there has to be something I can do. Slow it down, keep its attention away from shooting..." He smiled suddenly, coldly. "I think I can distract it for a few seconds anyway." He tapped a few keys. "Can you route a signal through the runabout, Grey? Filter it; make it look like it's coming from it and not in here? I'm going to talk to that thing for a minute."
Ella looked at the panel, avoiding displaying the thought that Victor was losing it that shone from her eyes, and nodded, her fingers establishing a direct laser-based link to the runabout. ~~That should be invisible to the Defiant~~ she signed.
"What the hell are you doing?" Betty grabbed Victor's arm. "You're going to talk to it?"
"It's not omnipotent," he replied, looking down at her gauntleted hand for a second before meeting her eyes. "It makes mistakes, or we'd have never gotten away. That means it can be distracted - an every second it talks to me, it's not shooting at the Galaxy."
"How do you know it'll even respond?" she demanded.
Victor's cold smile never wavered. "I don't." He shifted his gaze to the communications pickup. "Hail it, full visual."
Ella touched the key, still uncertain that this was a good idea.
For several seconds nothing happened - and then the small screen on the console lit up to reveal... Victor's own face, slightly distorted from the interference. "Well..." the image said, smiling. "This *is* a surprise."
~ Not as much of a one as you're getting in a minute. ~ "Just wanted to offer you a trade," Victor offered. "Me for the rest of them. I take a shuttle back - I've got it waiting right here - and you let them go."
"Interesting idea... and so noble too. Does it hurt? Being that noble I mean?" the image asked. "Knowing that they all hate and fear you, and *still* offering to die for them?" It laughed, a hundred screaming souls crying out in the peals. "How marvelous."
"Is that a yes or a no?" Victor asked.
"Oh..." the image leaned closer. "I think a 'no' - there's a whole universe out there, and you're just one soul. Interesting, but just one soul. I can live without eating yours."
The Defiant rippled, and a beam of something green that wasn't quite phaser fire speared out, narrowly missing the secondary hull.
"Hmm... that's harder than I thought," the image mused. "I'll have to compensate a little."
~ Come on, come on - if it can shoot at us, then the runabout should be able to... ~ A light flashed on the panel, signaling the runabout's course was being computed and locked in. ~ Yes! ~ Victor leaned closer to the pickup. "You remember what I said to you over there?" he asked suddenly, his voice as cold as the emptiness outside the hull. "Do you remember what I promised you?"
The image frowned. "What? That you'd kill me?" Its laugh was more demonic than before. "Yes, I remember. Pitiful and hollow as the threat was, I remember." It smiled, too many teeth in its mouth. "Let's see if my aim is better this time, shall we?"
Another beam lanced out, striking the shields and clinging to them tenaciously for a moment before punching through and tracing a scorched line along the hull.
"That answers that," Betty spoke up. "It can hurt us. No real damage, but if it ups the power..." She shrugged. We're sitting ducks."
"Oh good," the image said cheerfully. "I was so hoping that would do the job. Now, just a little more power, and..."
****
The phasers on the bandoleer almost vibrated with the force building up inside
them, the power building and building in response to the signal they had received,
warning lights flickering on their surfaces. Beside them, the plasma grenade's
warning light abruptly switched to red as the internal timer reached the correct
point, just as similar lights went red on the phasers.
****
Victor braced for the impact of the next shot, aware that the Gunny had locked
one gauntlet on the console and used the other to anchor Ella in her chair.
~ This is it, come on, finish the warp calculations... ~
The Defiant's phaser banks glowed, about to spit forth another streamer of green fire...
~ Damn. ~ "Brace for it!"
...and a gout of blood red energy burst free from the Defiant's secondary hull like a knife had just been stabbed into her.
"Yes!" Betty cried out, as the green beam went wide, the Defiant lurching like she'd been broadsided, another spurt of energy spraying out into the void.
~ The bomb, it must have been the bomb ~ Victor's thoughts scattered as another light lit up on the console, his smile returning. "Hey," he snapped, leaning close so his face was filled the pickup. "You're not listening to me!"
The image there, still recognizable as Victor's face, but now twisted in pain, looked back. "You... you did this to me!"
"You're a smart guy." Victor's face fixed, his eyes reflecting the cold certainty at the end of all lifetimes. "You should have listened to me," he said carefully. "But you didn't." His voice dripped frozen hydrogen. "I always keep my promises."
Outside, the runabout shifted position, her nose tracking the Defiant, the movement shifting the runabout out of the shadow of the primary hull, exposing the words Betty had written in the glow of the Galaxy's running lights: 'Damn The Defiant.'
The image cringed from what it saw on Victor's face. "No, wait..."
"No." Victor pronounced the word with the weight of the gates to hell slamming closed in it. "Time to die."
The runabout's nacelles sprang to life, she seemed to stretch - and she vanished.
"Noooo!"
The image's cry was cut short as a sun burst into life outside the open bay. A thousand colors strong, the sphere expanded, grew - and they tore into a thousand pieces, one for each color, and spiraled away as the fabric of the universe collapsed for a second. Each color siphoned away to a different universe, tearing the new star apart and spreading it across the sum of the universes that met at that one point, irrevocably rending it apart.
Now that's beautiful, Ella Grey thought.
In the Shuttlebay, the light washed over the three like the dawn of a new day, coruscating lights changing the color of their eyes, their hair, even their skins for a moment - and then leaching away to leave then as they were before: three tired, dirty people.
"I told you," Victor said tiredly to Ella in the silence that followed the death of the Defiant, "that I'd get you home, didn't I Grey? I always keep my promises."
* * * * *
"You what?!?" James hollered from the back crew cabin to the 'driver', Electra Reece. "You can't drive the ARGOS?"
"No... I can't." Lexa's hands quivered at the controls, staring at them in confusion. "I can't drive it....James... you drive."
"Well... I may be new at this, but I can take the wheel. Anything to beat those cocky little bastards Hawksley and Log into the next quadrant!" James said.
"BELAY THAT!" came the shout from the gunner's platform, where Bhrode was clenching the controls of the Dorsal Quad Phaser-Flechette-Chaingun-Flamethrower mount, with a dangerous glint in his steely eye.
"The scaley headed klingon bastards wanted HER to drive. So she's gonna drive." Bhrode announced, pointing a finger at Lexa from his perch.
Bhrode's rant was interrupted before he could threaten them both with Breen. The Com screen next to Lexa lit up, and the face of the Klingon General appeared there.
~"Oh dear god..."~ James felt the pit of his stomach sink to his bowels, ~"My 'we're f**ked sense is going through the roof! The General's communication can't be a coincidence..."~
"This is how we shall do this... I have instructed my staff to secret several items in the vicinity... 'flags' if you will. Your ARGOS and the KR-3400 will then race...errr...proceed to each of the checkpoints, disembark your infantry, collect the flag there and move to the next one. Simple, isn't it?"
"Too simple. What's the catch? Where is the challenge? HEY! You know where all the items are already! " Bhrode snarled,raking the gun chassis in a violent swing and sighting on the spot he knew the Klingon General to occupy, outside the ARGOS.
"Oh...do I? As we agreed... you have only the one infantryman and two crewmembers. If anything...happens.. to the infantryman, either the driver or gunner will have to go collect the flags. And of course, if anything happens to THEM... without crew, your ARGOS can't move....and then you lose. Did you want to give up now? " The Klingon sneered.
"Kiss me. You have two of my people in your contraption..." Bhrode began.
"They volunteered. Apparently they both wished to teach your ARGOS crewmen a ..lesson? What is the human idiom?" The General turned to someone off camera.
"Rub the Smegger's nose in it." Came the off-com reply.
"Crush them like dust under my horse's hooves." grated the other, at the same time.
Log and Lysander, though not in that order.
"Yes. I am reminded how much I like you humans... your ability to hold grudges is almost Klingon." The General smiled, in warm satisfaction.
"If I am gunner here, who is your third crewmember in the KR-3400 ?" Bhrode asked.
"I am." The General replied, turning his full attention back to the com link, with the smirk intact.
"Tell me when you're ready to begin. Unless you prefer to forfeit now. Bhrode out." Snapped the Old Man. He turned his glare to the two officers, looking at him from the Control Cabin.
"Pickey-Nick is over, kiddies. We're gonna have to look sharp to beat these Klingons." he snapped.
Both James and Lexa's faces turned an ashen gray. Both knew the odds right away, and Brhode had it spelled out clearly. They were destined to fail. In fact, it was all a set up, ready to spring the two into a trap.
After analyzing the situation, James came to a conclusion. "Well suck me sideways... we're f**ked." James threw up his arms in dispair.
"You want your girlfriend to go toe to toe with Log? Let her drive, dammit!" Bhrode thundered.
"HEY! She'll learn quick enough! And she'll clean the floor with Lysander's wagging tongue! Am I right, Lexa?"
"No... not yet. And leave Commander Hawksley out of this. We're not... as you say... f**ked." Lexa defiantly stated. Her hand closed around the key, twisted the key in the ignition, and started up the Argo's engine with a hearty roar of it's big block engine, and the buzzing whine of its turbo electric generators igniting the solid fuel cells. It was a beast that was part carnivore, part insect, and all business.
"About time..." Bhrode yelled over the clatter. The entire area near the gunner's perch lit up. The area, aside from controlling the weapons support and fire systems, was also dedicated to the twin drives of shielding your force's electronics emmissions and the ability to intercept or disrupt your opponents'.
The ARGOS boasted the latest and best in Battle Communications relays. Designed to be used with a Starship or sensor net overhead, the ARGOS could also support the Intelligence Coordinations and Communications needs of a full Company of Marine Infantry. Seated in the rotating cupola with the Main Quad Mount, the Gunner commanded a 360 degree view and had access to the sensors and jammers roughly equivalent to an old ANTARES class starship. While nowhere near the range or power of the GALAXY class ships and their sisters, the ARGOS was still a technological marvel.
"I'm ready... if anyone can tell me... what is this thing?" Lexa gripped the steering yoke with a nervous grimace.
"Frikkign Ferrengi Lawyers on pogo sticks..." muttered Bhrode, busying himself with the mapboard.
"She never drove this thing sir! Ease up! I'll give her a crash course!" James snapped back.
"Do you like living? NEVER CORRECT ME AGAIN! She has a higher security clearance, and more common sense than you do, SON. Get hell out of her way and show her which doohickey to press. I should tie your tongue to this things bumper and....tell ME to 'ease up'... I'll make a wallet out of your liver...." thundered Bhrode, traiing off to a grumble.
Shooting a hostile glance, James looked at the Argo's controls, and feeling the panic surge within, James was feeling a bit antsy himself. Calmly, like a man who accepted his fate, he tried to explain the Argo's controls. "Ummm... it's like a one dimensional yoke in an old school shuttle or aerofighter ship. You turn it left or right. The harder you crank the wheel, the more the Argo turns. You don't have to worry about up or down like in space flight. Just turn left and right... and worry about avoiding the obstacles in your way." James orientated her on the basic functions of the wheel, demonstrating the turns.
"Screw the obstacles, I bet this baby can plow right over them! Grind them to dust! Crush your enemies before you, THAT is living!!" Bhrode yelled from the Troop Compartment.
"It's not as easy as that sir! The Argo can only take up to an 80 degree climb for up to twenty meters! And the shocks can only take a boulder a quarter of the vehicles size without flipping over!" James corrected.
"No Klingon is that tall. Mister Reece! Drive over obstacles within Corgan's little parameters! Especially Klingon shaped obstacles." Bhrode ordered.
"Aye Sir, but there are plenty of rock formations that are! Ok... how does it ..err...accelerate?" She asked, unsure. then she hissed "I need to talk to you!"
"We are talking, but I'm sure it can wait. Press on the fuel bar-pedal down by your right foot. The harder you press, the faster it goes." He explained, pointing down at the shining chrome bar by her dainty foot.
"Right. Got it. And stopping? I-need-to-talk-to-you!" She asked through clenched teeth.
"We are talking, I'm right here for you, but can it wait until the race is over? The other foot pedal to the left of the fuel pedal is the brake. If that doesn't work... emergency brake on a handle to the right of you, pull that."
"And inertial dampners? Still-need-to-talk!" she hissed wildly.
"We are talking, about the ARGOS. Hold your horses. Oh, and we don't have inertial dampners. We have airbags."
Exasperated and sweating profusely, Lexa tried to make sense of the controls. "Whaaaaa??? you're kidding? Airbags? Bags of air? I thought shuttles were difficult! Complex? Who the hell would design a vehicle like this?!?!?!"
"Gaddamit, it's good enough for the Marines! All it's gotta do is move a company into some shithole, let them kick ass and survive long enough to give them some covering fire! Doctor Quick busted his ass to re-design the ATVs for the fleet, the least you can do is what Jimmy Boy tells you to!" Shouted Bhrode.
"SIR!" Lexa snapped, "It's difficult enough... to learn this vehicle..."
"You'll like Breen, Reece. You won't be able to sit for a month, because of the bootprint I am gonna leave on your ass... but you can park that ass on an icicle and cool it...." Bhrode was muttering.
"SIR! We're going to need cool heads to win this! I'll get Lexa ready! Let me handle it!" James rose to defend his friend, not caring about bootprints, Breen, and whatever order he received them!
"DEAD Corgan! You and your lil girlfriend are DEAD! Someone turn the power on to this thing!" Bhrode shouted.
Lexa couldn't believe what happened, like James was taking a phaser blast in the chest for her. ~"Unbelievable..." she murmered.
"Lexa.. this is not the time... deep breaths.... for me?" James asked, eyes wide in supplication.
Lexa stared at him, clearly frustrated, yet bemused at this reversal of their usual roles.
"He is your commanding officer...I suppose you have to listen to him. But.. only for you..." she replied, eyes on the controls.
"He's your CO too, Lex." James blinked in amusement, "You're going to have to do what he says. I can only stand up for you so much."
James eyes meet Lexa's on equal ground. There was no resistance or disgust from the Operations officer, nor fear from the Security Chief. He wanted their eyes to meet this way all the time. Again. But Corgan's eyes turned mournful.
Then, Lexa broke away from the stare. "James...this is not...how..." she replied, still refusing to meet his eyes.
"I know..." James muttered, "Besides... we talked about this before. And Lex... I have something to say as well..."
"James... I..."
A map came up on the overhead console near Lexa's head.
"We're the pretty little blue dot. The KR-3400 is gonna be the red dot. The 'neutral' Klingon observers are gonna be the yellow specks. If they get antsy or cute, aim for the yellow specks Mister Reece. Everyone know their colours?" Bhrode demanded.
"Yes... sir..." James and Lexa said flatly, in unison.
"Mister Reece....Move the ARGOS in line with their piece of crapola." Bhrode ordered.
On Lexa's viewer, the KR-3400 sat silently on its anti-grav cushion, hovering almost a meter off the ground. The vehicle was rounded, smooth. Anything shot at it would most likely be deflected. Being a Klingon vehicle, a lot of things might get shot at it. It was in stark contrast to the huge-wheeled and boxy appearance of the Federation vehicle.
"Here goes..." Lexa muttered, gingerly taking the controls James had indicated. She moved them like she thought they would bite. To a hideous screeching noise, the ARGOS lurched and jerked to the position, shimmying and shuddering like a thing possessed. It bucked, shucked and jived like Leo Streeley with a crotch full of itching powder and a head full of disco tunes. She stopped at the finish line, her heart thumping like Leo's heart at the sight of a hottie like herself.
A Klingon Under-Officer appeared on the comlink, saving us from further Leo similes.
"Here are the coordinates of your first 'flag' You will have to find the egg of a juKka bird there." The Klingon commanded, as the data showed up on Lexa's map, along with a course. The terrain elevation markings were there in 3-d grey, with Bhrode's 'paints' of enemy and friendly units as well.
"Is this a race or a gawd damned Scavenger Hunt? Start it already!" Bhrode yelled.
"Oh....did I mention... Begin!" The Klingon announced, as the KR-3400 suddenly skewed wildly in a cloud of dust... disappearing behind the shimmer of a portable mini-cloaking device.
The ARGOS sat idling noisily at the starting line still, as the shields came up and online around it.
Birds chirruped. Klingons guffawed.
Lexa turned wide, clear but troubled eyes up to Corgan. "I thought you said THIS was the accelerator?" she asked, practically standing on the brake bar with her looong legs extended fully.
"The other one! Step on it!" James panicked, slapping at her long, luscious legs.
"Don't YELL!" Lexa shouted in his ear.
Lysander's grinning face suddenly filled the screen.
"Hellloooooo ARGOS! smegging problem getting started?" he smirked, the cramped cockpit of the Klingon vehicle clearly visible.
Lexa blew a lock of hair out of her face and grimaced.
"Commander. No problems." she replied cooly and levelly.
"I knew I shouldn't have taken you out to dinner last night...made your reactions slow Lexa. You ate too much and will never fit in that dress again...smegging nice dress by the way... you should wear black more often.. especialy lo cut and backless black..." Lysander taunted.
Lexa's eyes flickered to James. She suddenly looked... guilty?
"What? That dress?" James looked absolutely hurt, "The dress I bought for you? You let Lysander see you in that?"
"Oh...I thought... you....err... smeg... told him." Lys nattered, catching James' face, before Lexa muted the channel.
"Ummm..." she began, still staring at the console.
"Dinner?" James sputtered, surprised beyond expectation, "You went out for dinner with Lysander?"
"It is not like that... we just had dinner." she replied, still pushing the brake to the floor.
"Hi Jimmy! Didn't see you there old chappie! The nurses liked that song you seranaded them with in Sickbay. They were all twittering on about the smegging thing." Lysander added brightly, overriding the mute.
Lexas eyes narrowed dangerously.
"Song? Seranade? Nurses?" she asked in a dangerous tone.
James, still trying to wrap his brain around the concept, spat out, "So? I killed time at sickbay by playing my fraggin' guitar! At least I didn't go out for dinner with Lysander! I mean... him?! Of all the @$$holes in the Galaxy... you picked him?"
"Yes, dinner in that resturaunt on the Ships Promenade. with Commander Hawksley. I know ...his... reputation. Nothing happened. Just dinner. Civil discourse. He... asked... about you and Rebecca." she replied, flushing. Was it the heat or...???
"Wait a second. You went out with that lovemonkey... and he asked about me and Rebecca? What did you tell him?!?!" James demanded.
Lysander gave an inane giggle.
"Lexa, I hope you liked the roses. Here's something for you, Jimmy." He tittered.
The Federation ATV suddenly bucked, as a series of half-power disruptor bolts raked across her shields. The KR-3400 re-cloaked and sped off at breakneck speed, the roiling clouds of dust betraying its' location the entire time. Bhrode replied with a salvo of lo-power phaser fire, which splashed off the KR's shields.
"LYSANDER YOU STUPID MOTHERF**KER!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YOU DO ANYTHING TO MY FRIEND AND I'LL DEEP FRY YOUR F**KING @$$!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" James fired a middle finger and dropped a few f-bombs for his salvo, penetrating shields and striking Lysander's ears painfully.
Lexa closed the channel with a guilty look, not meeting James' eyes at all.
"FU*K! Roses? Where did that lovemonkey find live roses this time of... I HATE HIM!" James shouted, punching the back bulkhead repeatedly.
"Seranade? Sonnava.....oh wait..." and Lexa switched the pedals. James was thrownbackwards, to slide the whole length of the Crew Compartment. He slammed into the rear ramp, retracted of course. If it hadn't been, he'd have slid right out of the ARGOS!
The ARGOS lept forwards in its own dustcloud, over powered engines sending the wheels spinning and the wheels throwing gouts of lan'Jepi soil into the air.
"Yeeeeeeeeeeehhhhhaaaaaaaaaaawwwwwwwwwwww!!!!!" Shouted Bhrode, firing at the Klingon's dustcloud, already streaking for the horizon as the ARGOS slewed out behind it, Lexa clearly over-compensating with the manual steering.
"I think I got it!" she shouted back over her shoulder.
"Uhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!" James shouted from the deck, frantically, James was pointing to the left.
"What?" Lexa questioned, turning to better see him.
Even more frantically, Corgan's arms pointed like crazy! "Eyes on the road!!!"
"No one likes a backseat driver, Corgan." Bhrode sniffed. "EYES ON THE ROAD! " he shouted at Lexa, noticing her looking back at both of them.
"Men!" Lexa sniffed icily, but under her breath, as she turned back to the controls.
"Women!" Bhrode and James said, in flat chorus.
TBC...
****
"Damn," Jeremy Savoie muttered as a string popped on his fiddle.
This evening was one of those rarest of occasions when the helmsman was actually going to engage in a session of old-style Cajun fiddling. Although he avoided almost everything that even hinted of the heritage for which he held such disdain, its music was the one thing he had inexplicably held on to. Perhaps it was because it reminded him of good times with his grandparents back on Earth when he was a child. His grandfather had taught him to play, the older man's world so far-removed from the one Jeremy's parents had chosen. Having been raised most of his life on one starship or starbase or another, the time Jeremy spent on Earth had been rare and was something he, like his siblings, cherished, at least when he was younger. As an adult, Jeremy had long since focused on the here and now, but every now and again, pulling out the old fiddle was a source of comfort, even escape.
And escape wasn't a bad thing for him right now. Having finally arrived at lanJep, things were calm again on the ship. Miraculously, Jeremy had only mildly been affected by the ship-wide lunacy that seemed to engulf everyone until recently. During his more lucid moments at the ship's helm he had managed to keep the ship in position, something he hoped Bhrode had even bothered to notice. At other times, when the craziness did get to him, he just hid in his quarters, sobbing uncontrollably and feeling utterly worthless. It was a situation he hoped never to have to endure again.
Completing the re-stringing of the old fiddle, Jeremy pulled it to his chin, closed his eyes, and drew the bow smoothly across the strings. Barely three notes into an old Cajun waltz his grandfather had taught him years ago, he stopped suddenly when he heard the door chime.
"Come in," he groused with great annoyance.
"Lieutenant Savoie? Sorry for interrupting, sir - do you have a minute?" Victor waited in the hallway outside patiently for an answer, reluctant to enter and find out if the Helm Officer was one of the people affected by his presence. ~ He sounds like he's in a bad mood; maybe I ought to do this later. ~ "If it's a bad time, I can come back later."
"What is it?" The irritation in his voice came through loud and clear, partly due to the interruption but just as much for being seen with the fiddle. Playing Cajun music was generally a very private affair for Savoie.
~ Nothing ventured, nothing gained, I guess. ~ Victor nodded, stepping forward. "I wanted ask you a few questions about someone you served with, sir; a man named Flint Riordan?"
Jeremy's eyes narrowed at the name, one he hadn't heard in long while. "He was a pompous ass," he stated flatly. "Anything else you need to know?"
Victor paused, not moving any further into the room in the hopes of keeping Savoie's mood from getting worse. ~ Pompous ass? Well, I guess that's better than 'accused rapist' like the last one Greta picked. ~ "Let me explain, sir," Victor offered. "Our family didn't do well in the War - there's just my cousin Greta and I left of the younger generation and well..." He spread his hands. "She's talking about bringing him to the family reunion next year. For our family, that's the step that comes right before picking names out for the kids."
Resigning himself to the fact that he wasn't going to be doing any playing now, Jeremy let out a disgusted sigh. "C'min," he instructed, setting down the fiddle and plopping into a comfortable chair.
"Does your cousin like guys who are convinced they know everything about everything and don't mind telling you as much? 'Cause that's the kinda guy Riordan was when I knew him back on the Farragut," Savoie related, sounding as if he were dredging up a bad memory.
"She has bad luck with men," Victor sighed as he moved far enough into the room to let the door close behind him. "The last guy she got serious about was back at the Academy. When I checked him out, he turned out to be under investigation for three sexual assaults - all of which were confirmed by forensics." He paused by a chair and shook his head. "I'm just trying to stop another disaster in the making."
"Pfft, Riordan doesn't have the balls to be a rapist," Jeremy casually scoffed, directing Krieghoff to sit with a wave of his hand. "The closest the prick could probably get would be to -brag- that he's a better rapist than anyone else just because he couldn't stand the thought of anyone being better than him at something." Savoie paused for a moment, taking Victor in with suspicion. "Do you usually go around having guys checked out on your cousin's behalf? What are you, fuckin' Section Thirty-One?" Jeremy wasn't sure he believed the clandestine group even existed, but if they did they certainly weren't much of a secret these days.
Victor sat with a smile. "If I were, I wouldn't need to ask these sorts of questions, would I?" His smile faded. "But yes, I do. She's... The odds on my having children are so poor that they might as well be nonexistent. She's all the family has." He sighed. "It isn't like she asked me to. In fact, in the aftermath of the incident at the Academy she threatened to perform a biologically improbable act on my person with a plate of Swedish Meatballs if she caught me doing it again."Even Savoie couldn't help but laugh at that one. This guy didn't seem so bad.
"So who the hell are you anyway?" the helmsman asked in a less terse yet still direct way.
Victor blinked. ~ He doesn't...? Well, I did neglect to introduce myself. ~ "I'm sorry, sir," he offered, standing up to extend a hand. "That was rude of me. I'm Victor Krieghoff, from Security." ~ Can he *really* not know who I am? ~ The idea pleased Victor in an odd fashion.
"Ooohh, so - you're - Krieghoff," Jeremy stated, casually returning the handshake and almost sounding impressed. "Heard about your hotshot maneuver to get the Defiant off our tail. Smart thinkin'. Didn't have a face to put with the name. I don't hang out with security much." Truth was, the helmsman didn't really hang out with anyone much.
"Neither do I." Victor shrugged. "I'm not the most popular guy in the department - or the ship." He seemed comfortable with the statement - or at least appeared that he'd made it often enough that any sting to the words had long since left him. "Better for everyone that way.""So," Victor leaned forward. "What else can you tell me about Riordan? What did he do to land on your list?"
"I was transferred to Ops for a year when I was on the Farragut, let's just say for 'political' reasons." Jeremy didn't talk about his past much, and he certainly wasn't going to supply any more details than were necessary. "Riordan was in the department at the time as well. He basically decided that I was beneath him and not worth his time." He chuckled bitterly. "The bastard did nothing to help me and in fact actually went out of his way to make me look like an idiot." Jeremy paused for a moment, reliving the unpleasant experience in his mind. "Liked to make sure the department chief and the XO knew every little detail of what I did . . . every not-by-the-books move, every tiny mistake, every millisecond I was late for a shift, that kinda shit. Every word that came out of my mouth went directly to whomever it would do the most harm to have hear it. Before I knew it, I had at least a quarter of the ship hating my guts thanks to that guy."
Then he leaned forward, his eyes narrowing as he spoke, "And you know why? 'Cause he perceived me as a threat. He was buckin' for assistant chief and didn't want anything or anyone to potentially get in the way." He chuckled again as he leaned back in his chair. "I didn't even want to be in that goddamn department, let alone be assistant chief, and anyone with half a brain knew I didn't have a shot in hell at it anyway. But that didn't matter to him. I was there and I could count past ten, that made me threat enough in the jackass's eyes. Fuckin' prick," he muttered, looking away in disgust.
~ If he's this bad, he'll never survive the family reunion. If Rexa and Ar'resh don't kill him, then Mama and Papa or Aunt Miranda and Uncle Kalvin will. Literally if he's actually this bad. ~ "So, what I'm getting here is that he's so concerned with himself and looking good personally in front of his superiors that he'll ruin members of his own department to do so." Victor winced. "The family *might* be able to tolerate that - and that's a big 'might' - as long as Greta was happy."
He leaned back, thinking. "What about his life outside the office? Can you tell me anything about that? Will he treat her well?" he held up a hand. "I won't ask if he could actually love her - the man you described doesn't sound like he loves anything more than himself. Just... will he hurt her?"
Jeremy's brow wrinkled just a little. "Well, if that's good enough for you. . . . I stayed away from him like the plague off-duty. Hmmf, took everything I had not beat the shit out of the bastard a couple times," he said, his fist clenching ever so slightly. "Never saw him around women in a social setting. In fact, I wasn't even sure he -liked- being around women, if you get what I mean."
"Really?" Victor's frown deepened. "So why, I wonder, is he all of the sudden interested in my cousin? Greta's a wonderful person, but she's the sort that you'd have to approach if *you* were interested - she's not assertive in that way." He stared at the floor by his feet for a moment in thought. "Can you think of a reason why he'd approach her?"
"Is she in any position to advance his career or make him look good to somebody?" Jeremy replied without hesitation. "'Cause as far as I know, everything he did was for one purpose only: to make him look good."
"I don't know," Victor admitted. ~ Well, is she? ~ "She's only a Lieutenant Junior Grade, and it doesn't seem likely that he's going to try and ride *her* coattails up the ladder. They're not even in the same department - she's in Medical, not Tactical. Besides, the man you're telling me about doesn't sound like he could stand something like that."
~ Okay, not her personally, maybe the family? ~ His frown deepened again. "We're a small family - less than sixty-five of us after the War - and even though we have a strong Starfleet tradition, there certainly aren't any Admirals in the woodpile or anything like that. The family looks after itself, true, but Greta's parents both retired out of the fleet as Lieutenant Commanders in Security, so there's not going to be much string-pulling from their end. Heck, there are only four of us still serving in Starfleet: me, Greta, and my aunts, Rexa and Ar'resh."
"Aunts?" Jeremy asked. "In Starfleet?"
"Rexa and Ar'resh?" Victor smiled. "They're great people." ~ When they aren't trying to 'fix' my love life. ~ "They're on the Venture over in Cardassian space. Rexa's an MD and Ar'resh is in Security. Unless they got promoted and didn't send messages to everyone - which isn't likely - they're both Lt. Commanders and handling the number two spots in their departments." He blinked. "The Venture *is* a Galaxy Class, and that's a step up if he transferred there - plus if he was married to Greta they might throw a little weight behind getting him a slot - but that sounds awfully iffy." He raised an eyebrow at Jeremy. "What do you think?"
"Ha! Wouldn't be surprised," Jeremy answered with disgust. "If the little bastard knows about them and sees them as having any connections that could be to his advantage, he'll do whatever he can to take advantage of the opportunity. I'd bet my commission on it."
"Anyone who spends any time around one of us knows about them - especially if they're around Greta. They really like Greta." Victor winced and sighed. "I really was hoping that this guy wasn't another loser, but from what you're telling me he's the king of losers. At least the rapist was honest enough to admit it when she confronted him, I doubt this guy could be honest if there was a phaser to his head."
"It would depend on what was in it for him. If it somehow made him look good or advanced his career, he'd squeal the truth like a pig on crack."
"If it weren't for what it would do to Greta, I'd really be tempted to just let him go ahead and reap the consequences of his plan. Rexa and Ar'resh would eat him alive once they realized he'd used Greta that way." ~ But that gets Greta hurt - and it'd hurt her relationship with them - and I won't let that happen. ~
Victor leaned forward again. "My aunts are supposed to be meeting me on lanJep - they're taking some leave time while the Venture's going through baryon decontamination. Would you be willing to sit down with them and repeat what you've told me? Maybe answer some more questions?" His smile was decidedly cold. "I can promise you that they'll make his life a living hell if you do...."
Jeremy's eyes narrowed briefly. He'd been waiting for this chance for years. A wicked grin spreading across his thin lips, he extended his hand to Victor. "When do we leave?"
~ I wonder if there's a regulation that permits me to waive mandatory shore
leave and just go back up to the ship? I'm not sure I can take much more 'relaxing'
than I already have. ~ Victor closed his eyes and sighed, wishing he could get
away from the sounds and smells of the resort surrounding him as easily as closing
his eyes had shut out the sights.
The lounge was quieter than the rest of the resort's main level, with fewer people jammed into it than usual because of the gorgeous weather outside, and a series of personal combat championships being conducted in the open-air arenas nearer the beach. In one corner, a small band of imported Bajoran musicians was playing some reinterpreted Terran jazz on a selection of native instruments, and doing well enough at it that they had another one of the Galaxy's officers - Lt. Geluf, out of Operations - nodding his head in time with them one table over.
~ Who am I kidding? Counselor Dallas would freak out if she found out I had refused the shore leave she mandated for all the Away Team survivors - and I don't want to wind up assigned to any more counseling sessions than I've had to sit through already. ~ The memory of the last session surfaced for a moment before he shoved it aside. ~ I wish she'd understand that I *don't* need to talk about what happened. It's over and done with. The Defiant tried to eat my soul and the souls of the people that went over with me. It failed. I killed it. End of story. ~
He smiled thinly, opening his eyes to regard the cup of black coffee in front of him. ~ Dr. Solek back at the Academy understood. At least, he understood eventually. There was that whole thing with me walking around with him in my head before he got there though. Creepy, but it got him to sign off on my suitability for service. Maybe I ought to suggest that she contact him? That might get these sessions stopped.... ~
He reached out, snared the cup, and sipped at the coffee. ~ That might work. It doesn't solve the real problem for today though: dealing with this girl that Rexa and Ar'resh are dragging out here to meet me. ~ He took another sip, and leaned back, still holding the coffee. ~ I know they mean well, that they're really just trying to find someone that'll make me happy - but that doesn't make this any easier to deal with. ~ He glanced up. ~ Please, God, let this one not be like that poor girl they tried to fix me up with when they visited while I was laid up after that fight at the Idran System Shipyards. ~ He shuddered. ~ I'm sure she was nice enough, but that third.... ~
"Bad coffee?"
The question derailed his line of thought, more for the identity of the speaker than the words themselves. ~ Lieutenant Angelienia. Again. ~ "No, the coffee's fine. Bad memory."
"Oh." The Ktarian pilot moved around from behind him. She'd taken advantage of the shore leave to shed her uniform for a short, belted tunic made from a green silk that matched her eyes. The outfit made Victor think of the fanciful images of Ancient Greece he'd seen as a child in his grandmother's books. As she walked, the way the fabric clung to her made it clear that she wasn't wearing anything under it.
"I'm sorry," she offered with a sympathetic look." Would you like something to take your mind off it?" Her green cat's eyes flared slightly as she smiled. "I'd be glad to help you out...."
~ Out of my clothes, you mean. ~ "Thank you, but I'll be all right, Lieutenant. It was just one of those difficult adolescent memories everyone accumulates and then lies about not having." He smiled to try and take some of the sting out of the refusal. "Maybe another time would be better." ~ How many times is this now, six? Seven? I don't want to just smack her down - I have enough problems with her little coffee klatch already, especially after what happened to O'Rourke on the Defiant - but I'm running out of options here. ~
She blinked once, a tiny frown flickering under her brown bangs, and then smiled. "It's a date then." She cocked her head to one side, shifting position to show off her long golden legs, and looked at Victor carefully. "You're not waiting for someone... are you?" she asked too casually.
"Yes." Seeing the flash in the Marine pilot's eye, Victor added, "My aunts. They wrangled some time off and came out to visit when they found out I had shore leave." ~Please, God, I know I'm asking for a lot today, but do not let her pull some silly-ass possessive jealousy crap on Rexa and Ar'resh. They wouldn't put up with it even if she *did* have a claim on me, and they surely won't as things stand. I don't need to pick up the pieces after that. ~
"Your... aunts?"
"My aunts. They're stationed on the USS Venture."
"The Venture?" She thought about that for a moment. "Galaxy Class. She's currently on station in Cardassian space, right? Isn't that a bit far to travel for a vacation?"
Victor nodded. "Normally yes, even for them. But the Venture rotated back for a scheduled baryon decontamination sweep and they cut the crew loose for leave." He shrugged. "We're a small family; keeping up with each other is important to them." ~ Can't blame them, really. We're their clan now after the rest of the Idrani were wiped out when the Dominion scrubbed their colony world for the Cardassians back in the War. I just wish they weren't trying to marry me off to everyone in sight. ~
"Ah." The Ktarian woman's smile seemed more genuine this time. "They're right, family is important." She patted him on the shoulder, fingers brushing the side of his neck in graceful accident. "I'll stop by later," she promised. "Maybe you can introduce me."
~ You have no idea how bad an idea that is. ~ "I'm sure you'll have the chance, they're supposed to be here for a few days." ~ And I will pray daily that you never meet them. ~
"I'll be looking forward to it," she promised, squeezing his shoulder once as she slipped away.
~ I most assuredly will not. ~ Victor looked down at his coffee, tried another sip, and made a face. "Cold." Across the way, Geluf looked up, shared a sympathetic smile and nod with him, and turned back to the music.
Setting the coffee down, Victor checked the time, sighed, and closed his eyes again, listening to the music for several minutes. ~ Why am I doing this? Why don't I just cut and run? It's not going to work. It never works. But they just keep trying anyway. ~ He thought about that for a second. ~ Maybe that's the point. They keep trying, because I've given up? ~
"Heinrich!"
~ Oh God, they're here. Please God, let it be over quick with whoever they've dredged up this... ~ He opened his eyes - and his brain blanked. ~ A green Orion woman? ~
Across the lounge, his Aunt Ar'resh was waving at him, her taller sister beside her. Between them, however, her dark emerald skin contrasting with the sky blue of her two companions, stood an Orion woman with a lean dancer's build. All three women were in casual travel garb, but drawing appreciative - and interested - glances nevertheless.
~ A Green Orion woman. ~ Victor slowly stood, brain numb as the only possibility for the third woman's presence beat at his brain. ~ My aunts are trying to fix me up with a Green Orion. ~ He waved mechanically, watching the trio as they wove their way through the crowd. ~ I know that there are guys that would kill to be in this position... but a Green Orion? What are they thinking? ~
The trio passed by several tables, attracting more looks, several sounds of admiration, and one groping Klingon hand as they did. Rexa slapped the hand aside absently, drawing a laugh and a proposition from its owner. Ar'resh didn't even slow down for the incident, and the Orion girl only hesitated for a moment, until she was certain that the Klingons weren't going to react poorly to the put down.
Victor moved around the table just in time to brace himself before Ar'resh dashed forward the last few meters, waist-length hair flying behind her, and threw herself at him in a hug. ~ Why is it that someone three inches shorter and seventy pounds lighter than I am threatens to knock me over every time she does this? ~ He let himself soak in the feeling of being held for a moment, unaware until that moment how much he'd needed it. "Hello, Aunt Ar'resh," he said softly in Andorian, returning her embrace.
"Heinrich," she smiled, pulling back, "you're still dropping that second syllable. Haven't you been practice...? One look at his face, however, and her smile turned to a frown. "What's wrong?"
"Later," Victor said, adding 'I promise," after she glared at him. ~ Much later. ~ "Bad mission - but it's over now." He looked up, smiling again, and opened an arm out to Rexa. "Why are you standing over there?"
"Just making sure I wouldn't get run down," she laughed, stepping up to embrace him fiercely, her equal height making it a bit easier to manage. She kissed him on the cheek as she drew back, then frowned, and glanced at her sister. "He's lost weight and he's..."
"...not doing well," her sister finished. "I know. We'll talk later." She reached out and took Victor's hand. "He promised, this time, so..."
"...he'll really do it," Rexa nodded. "Good." She glared at Victor. "We were very upset with you for leaving the hospital that way without telling us. We waited for..."
"...three days after you were supposed to call and then checked - and you were gone." Ar'resh shook her head. "You should have called."
"I was a little rushed, the doctors there were making noises about moving me to some other place for observation and I had to leave before they got the paperwork finished. If I hadn't, I'd probably *still* be trying to sort it all out. ~ And Kragg would have maybe killed the Galaxy, and those people wouldn't have gotten off the Defiant... ~
"Well..." Rexa conceded, "I do know how Starfleet doctors can get." She smiled suddenly, "Just don't let it happen again, all right?"
"I... I promise." ~ How can they make me feel like I'm thirteen without *doing* anything? ~
"That's our Heinrich," Ar'resh squeezed his hand and leaned against him, putting her head on his shoulder.
~ And three seconds later, make me wish I'd been the one to marry them instead of Uncle Bernhard? ~
"Oh!" Rexa blinked, "we're being rude." She smiled, turning to beckon the Orion girl forward. "Henrich, there's someone we'd like you to meet. This is our shipmate..."
"...Seeva," Ar'resh picked up, pulling back and turning to face their companion. "She works with me in Security. Seeva, this is our nephew, Heinrich, the one we've..."
"...told you so much about," Rexa concluded, as the Orion girl started forward. "Heinrich, this is Seeva, she's been looking forward to meeting you."
Somewhere between Rexa and Ar'resh in height, Seeva moved with the glide of someone who was intimately aware of their body and were it was at all times, like a master dancer. Her hair was pulled back and gathered at the nape of the neck, but determined curls had escaped on either side of her face, and they swayed with her hips as she moved, her smile open and reaching her eyes. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you after all your aunts have told me."
Victor noted that both his aunts took a breath and held it as the girl stepped up. ~ Can't blame them after the last three tries. I wonder if... maybe... ~ "You might want to take it with a grain of salt. They do tend to exaggerate a little once they get going." ~ Maybe.... ~
Seeva shook her head, moving closer, well inside the range of where his aura normally affected people. "You're every bit as handsome as your pictures said you were," she offered huskily. "Maybe even a bit more so. I hope they were as accurate about everything else."
"Ahhh..." ~ What in God's name did they *tell* this girl? ~ "Thank you - mmmph!"
Without another word the Orion girl stepped up, Rexa and Ar'resh releasing Victor's hands as she did, and kissed him.
~ What? I... ~ Victor tried to concentrate, but Seeva was insistent, and as her hands slipped around him his thoughts scattered. "Mmmmm..."He was dimly aware of his aunts trading smirks behind Seeva, but couldn't concentrate enough to do more than that.
Then, just as he felt himself starting to respond to the kiss, Seeva abruptly stopped and stepped back. ~ Now what? Did I do something wrong? ~
"I'm sorry," the Orion girl said with obviously genuine regret. " I... I can't. It won't work."
Ar'resh and Rexa exchanged glances. "What's wrong, Seeva? Is it..."
"...the thing we talked about?" Rexa frowned. "I thought you believed it wouldn't bother you?"
"I did." Seeva looked at Victor sorrowfully. "But I was wrong. It wasn't so bad when I walked up, but... when I kissed him, when we were touching... I was screaming inside." She stopped, her skin darkening in a blush. "I'm... I'm sorry, Heinrich. I can't."
"It's all right," Victor assured her. "I'm used to it - and it wasn't your fault." ~ Why did I even let myself hope? Why bother? ~
Seeva ducked her head. "I... I wish it had worked," she offered, meeting his eyes. "I... I'm sorry." She turned suddenly, her blush deepening. "I'm sorry, Ar'resh, I..."
"Go on," Ar'resh told her softly. "It's all right, Seeva. We knew it might not work."
The Orion girl's head bobbed once, and she took a step away before turning back on last time. "Heinrich... I'm sorry," she whispered again, and then she was gone.
"Well," Rexa said after a moment's silence as patrons all around them found other things to look at. "That didn't go too well." She smiled sadly. "I'm sorry, Heinrich, we really thought..."
"...that Seeva would be the one," Ar'resh finished sadly. "She was so interested in you, asked all kinds of questions when we had duty together, and..."
"It's all right," Victor interrupted, reaching out to pull his aunts close and hold them, drawing strength from their touch. "It's really all right," he whispered as he held them. "You don't have to do this you, know - but thanks for trying."
"You're family," Ar'resh protested as he released them. "Of course we have to try. It's not right for..."
"...us to just let you be all alone, Heinrich," Rexa admonished him. "Family helps family. That's the way it is."
Victor smiled, relaxing for the first time in months as he let the familiar presence of his aunts fill the empty places inside him. "Is she going to be okay? Does one of you need to go after her?"
Ar'resh shook her head. "We'd already talked about what to do if it didn't work." She smiled sadly. "We just..."
"...didn't want to have to do it," her sister added. "She'll be fine. Disappointed, but fine."
Victor nodded and looked around, meeting eyes with Lt. Geluf for a moment. ~ Well, I guess it'll be all over the ship by nightfall that my aunts tried to hook me up with an Green Orion woman and even *she* wouldn't have me. As if the rumormill about me wasn't exciting enough. ~ He smiled pleasantly at the Lieutenant. "Sorry for the disturbance, sir."
Geluf waved the apology off and shook his head. "No trouble. And better luck next time."
"Thanks." ~ Why do all of the people I meet on the Galaxy keep trying to be nice to me? What's the deal with that? Is it a game or something? ~ "Well," he turned back to his aunts, "what now? Are you up for a walk? Maybe swapping some family gossip?"
"You're taking this too well," Rexa frowned as Victor started to lead them off. "How long has it been?"
"How long has what been?" ~I don't know if I like
where this is going...
~
"How long has it been since you had a night of really hot, steamy sex?" Ar'resh prodded. "You know, the kind where you scream out..."
Rexa picked the line up without missing a beat."...her name every time that she makes you..."
"Rexa!" Victor got out as his face turned red. Behind him, Lt. Geluf was making noises like his drink had gone down the wrong way. "Ar'resh!"
"What?" the two said at the same time, looking at him.
"It's perfectly natural, dear," Rexa protested. "Healthy
for you too.
Especially if you..."
"...have three or four orgasms in a row," Ar'resh added. "The really good ones, where your spine turns to jelly and..."
"Stop," Victor choked, trying to hurry them out of the lounge so Lt. Geluf could remember how to breathe again. "Stop. You know that it drives me crazy when you talk like that!"
"Now Heinrich," Rexa protested. "It's perfectly natural for you to be embarrassed, especially if it's been a long time..."
Ar'resh nodded agreement. "...or if you haven't had a partner that was good enough to really push you to the limits, but..."
"Stop!" Victor tried one last time as they reached the doors and he hustled them through. ~ That demon on the Defiant was wrong. *This* is really hell.... ~
****
"I still don't see why you're so embarrassed, Heinrich." Rexa shook
her head as she paused at an intersection in the road. "It's a perfectly
natural process."
~ I'm going to die, right here. ~
"Perfectly wonderful, too," Ar'resh chimed in from Victor's other side, leaning against the arm she'd refused to release since they left the lounge. "At least it is when it's done right."
~ That damn Klingon over there is laughing at me, I know it. ~ "Ar'resh, please, you know that's not what I want."
"Want?" Rexa peered at him. "We're talking about *needs* here, Heinrich. Basic ones. You *need* this, even if you don't want to admit it."
"I do not need to spend an entire day shopping, Rexa. There are too many people here, and sooner or later I'm going to piss one of them off by breathing and there'll be a fight." Victor looked down at Ar'resh. "You know that's true, Ar'resh."
"Well..." she hedged. "Maybe. But you probably need that too."
"I do *not* need to get into a fight!" ~ I can't believe I'm having this conversation - even with them. ~
"Of course you do, dear one, just listen to yourself." Ar'resh smiled understandingly. "All that tension has to go somewhere, and since..."
"...you haven't had a lover to help you release it in so long, a fight is the only other option," Rexa agreed. "A lover would be much better, of course..."
"...and much more pleasurable for you," Ar'resh conceded. "But a good fight might do the trick anyway - at least until we can find you someone who will wring you out the proper way."
The Klingon who'd been smiling at Victor's discomfort barked out a laugh and doubled over, leaning against a wall for support.
Victor winced. ~ And this was supposed to help me relax? Maybe if I introduced them to the Counselor, then... ~ The horrible potential inherent I that thought struck him. ~ Ahhh... no. I think I'll just not do that. Things are bad enough already, at least no one else from the ship besides Geluf has... Oh God, that's Grey coming this way. ~ "Maybe this way?" he tried to steer his aunts out of Ella's path.
"That way?" Rexa peered at the signs. "No, no interesting shops there, I think..."
"...we should go this way," Ar'resh pointed - straight at the side street Ella was emerging from. "There are some clothing shops that way."
"All right," Victor surrendered. ~ Maybe she won't stop? Maybe I can warn her off... ~ He caught Ella's eye and signed with his free hand: Run. Save yourself.~~
Ella considered. There were more shops to hit along the way, more fun to be had with her father's credit. But the look of desperation on Victor's face and the pair of Andorian women practically dragging him spiked her curiosity. She shifted her bags to one hand, she'd purchased a Klingon necklace that looked like a sadistic dog collar for Indigo and leather pants for herself at H'ah T'pek the Klingon clothing chain, and signed back. ~~But I have to meet whatever is bad enough to scare you~~
Victor started to sign back, realized that both of his aunts were looking at him, and stopped. ~ Busted. ~
"Heinrich?" Rexa looked at him suspiciously. 'What are you doing?'
"I think..." Ar'resh said slowly, her head turning in Ella's direction. "That he's talking to..."
"...a girl!" Rexa said brightly, following her sister's gaze. "Heinrich, you sneak! You know a girl...
"...and you didn't tell us!" Ar'resh poked Victor in the side. "Who is she? Where..."
"...did you meet her?" Rexa added. "How long have you known her? Is she good in..."
"Rexa!" Victor surrendered to the inevitable and waved Ella over. ~ You should have run, Grey - it's too late now. ~ "She's just... someone I worked with last mission. She's not... I'm not... There's nothing there."
Ella smiled. The two women looked at her with interest as she approached. She got the impression of being seized up and was grateful she had chosen to wear the purple sundress instead of the sweats she had almost chosen.
"Now that's more like it." Ar'resh said. "Why aren't you interested in this one, Heinrich? She's lovely, and she's not scared of you. What's your name, dear?"
Ella tried her best to bite back the smirk she felt forming. Heinrich?
"Ella," Victor said with a resigned sigh, "I'd like you to meet my aunts, Rexa and Ar'resh." He pointed to each in turn, Rexa nodding with a smile and Ar'resh grinning openly from where she held Victor's arm. "Ladies, this is Ella Grey, she's in Engineering aboard the Galaxy. She... doesn't speak, so don't think she's being rude."
"We're pleased to meet you, "Ar'resh said brightly, offering Ella a hand to shake. "Have you known our Heinrich long?"
Ella shook her head.
"Lovely, and she's mute too." Rexa exclaimed. "Well, really, Heinrich. What more could you ask for?"
~ Relief from this? ~ "Rexa, please!" Victor winced.
Ella couldn't help but instantly like them. This was not like her mother, who would always list the qualities of a man beginning with his financial history. 'That's Frederick, darling. He owns five shares in blah blah and drives the new model fill-in-blank-here.' Victor's aunts seemed genuinely concerned about him and plus, it was amusing to watch the poor man squirm.
"Men!" Rexa said exasperated. "If we left anything up to them... Now, Ella, you really should get to know Victor better. While it's true he hasn't been with a woman in some time..."
Victor winced again. ~ God, please, a little help here? A meteor strike? Terrorist assault? Something? ~
"...you shouldn't hold that against him. He really is a wonderful boy," Ar'resh finished for her. "I'm certain that you'd find him a very considerate lover." She smirked. "And the Krieghoff men are all...""...large men," her sister picked up, ignoring Victor's strangled cough and Ella's attempts to smother her laughter. "I'm certain that you'd find him to be quite..."
"Why don't I just take her now in the street." Victor muttered to himself.
~~Well, that would be interesting~~ Ella signed back at him and then winked at him when she saw the look of consternation on his face.
"They're so cute together." Rexa commented to her sister. "Look, she's already figured out how to make blush with just a wiggle of her fingers - imagine what she'll be able to do after they..."
"Rexa!" Victor groaned. "Please! You're embarrassing her."
"Of course not, Heinrich," Ar'resh said with a consoling pat on the arm. "But it's good that you're concerned about her." She glanced at Ella. "You have no idea how long we've been waiting for him to find someone. His last lover was wrong for him, poor girl. We knew it was doomed..."
~ Oh God no - not this again. ~
"...when she told us that she was intimidated by his needs." Rexa peered professionally at Ella. "But you look to be much sturdier than she was; you have a much better hip structure and longer legs. You shouldn't have any problems accommodating..."
That mental picture did have a faint blush rising to her cheeks but it was nowhere near the color that Victor's face was turning.
"Rexa!" Victor's cry was a touch desperate.
"Yes, Heinrich?" she asked, calmly.
"I... Why don't we find someplace where we can sit down and talk?" Victor offered. ~ At least I won't be amusing the whole damn street that way. ~ "Maybe get some lunch?"
"That's a good idea, Heinrich," Rexa nodded. "See how thoughtful he is?" she pointed out to Ella. "I think you'd find him to be..."
"...considerate of all your needs," Ar'resh continued. "He's such a dear." She patted Ella on the arm. "So, where shall we eat? What kind of food do you like? Has he tried to kiss you, yet?"
Ella smiled, tried her best to answer the questions that flew her way as Ar'resh lead her over to a Klingon version of a Terran deli and Rexa followed with Victor in tow. Ella ordered what she hoped was the vegetarian meal, since she doubted the Klingons would cook any of their meat, and politely listened to the aunts advice on sexual positioning while Victor varied in shades of color and looked like he wished a band of wild targs would come forth and drag him away.
~~I think they're wonderful~~ Ella signed to him, while the pair went to pick up their meals.
~~I'm so sorry~~ Victor apologized, with his fingers. ~~I tried to steer them away, but...~~ He sighed, switching to voice when his command of sign failed him. "It's like being related to a Solitron Wave - nothing stops them, they just keep going and going and going..."
~~They care about you.~~ her hands replied. ~~Although, I admit, if my mother were to be so candid with me....your aunts would probably get off your back if you just tell them what they want to hear.~~
"I.... can't," he sighed. "I..." He stopped and switched back to sign. ~~I promised them I wouldn't.~~ He looked over one shoulder. ~~Besides, they'd know. Somehow, they'd know.~~ He sighed again. "They always know."
Ella shrugged. She would have just lied to them but that didn't seem like Victor's nature. ~~It's a big ship. I'm sure there's someone on it who could satisfy those overwhelming needs of yours.~~ Her hands seemed to shake with laughter.
Victor's face, barely recovered from the last volley his aunts had launched before leaving the table, darkened again. ~~Not you too?!~~ he tried to sign back, but bobbled the gestures in his embarrassment and produced, instead, ~~With you too?!~~
Ella let out a giggle she had been suppressing the entire afternoon and was rewarded with a warm smile from Ar'resh and Lexa, who were at the condiment cart, trying to decide which squiggling things went best atop their squiggly food.
He looked down at his traitor fingers for a moment, then groaned and shook his head. "Every time. It's like this every time they visit. You have no idea what their trip to Deep Space Nine was like while I was there." He shuddered. "It took three months for Commander Kira to stop laughing every time she saw me. I couldn't walk into Quark's for the last six months I was there it was still so bad."
~~The worst part,~~ he admitted, ~~is that they really are just trying to help. They really do care, but...~~ he shrugged helplessly. ~~You have to know what happens to most people around me - the fact that it doesn't happen to you just means that they're going to try that much harder to...~~
"What are we talking about so seriously, Heinrich?" Rexa asked, sitting back down. "Are you and Ella here are planning to get together later? Maybe for an evening of..."
"...getting to know each other better?" Ar'resh sat down, picking up the thread without pause. "Just remember to start slowly, it's been quite a while for Heinrich, and..."
"I'll be right back," Crimson, Victor excused himself and fled to the bar in search of something that wasn't moving to put on his plate.
"So," Ar'resh asked. "What do you think of our Heinrich? He's really a good boy behind all those dark looks and growls."
"Unless, of course," Rexa asked, hopefully. "You like that sort of thing? Many people do in bed you know."
Ella held up her index finger and then rummaged in her purse to find the pen and tiny notebook she kept for emergencies. *I think he's a nice guy* she wrote, ignoring Rexa's question. *He saved my life, you know*
They both made appreciative noises. Ella gave them a brief synopsis of the affair, evading the questions as to why she needed help in the first place. The aunts were most impressed when she told them that Victor carried had her most of the time.
"That's soooo romantic." They cooed together.
Ella probably wasn't helping him out much but perhaps they might back off a bit if they thought someone else appreciated Victor. Of course, she didn't know him very well but anyone who had bothered to save her couldn't be that bad. And it was cute when he blushed. She didn't have many friends on Galaxy; it might be nice to make a new one.
~ Oh Lord, now what? ~ Victor eyed the three women at the table from the bar. ~ They're being quiet, and... oh, okay. ~ He relaxed slightly. ~ Grey's writing out answers, that's it. They weren't about to...~ He stopped and looked down at his plate and the escaping gaak work that had crawled there and was investigating his fingers. Shaking it free to fall into a vat of some reddish sauce, he started back. ~ The last thing I want now is a fight on top of everything else. ~
"Ladies," he nodded politely as he sat back down. Dreading the answer, he continued, "Did I miss anything?"
"Ella has been telling us how you swept her off her feet and carried her out of danger on your last mission," Ar'resh explained, smiling. ""I don't know why you keep insisting..."
"...that things like that only happen in stories." Rexa shook her head. "But she tells us you didn't even try and kiss her." She looked at Ella critically. "I don't understand, Heinrich. She's much prettier than that poor little Bajoran girl..."
Victor's mouthful of food went tasteless in his mouth. ~ Not Rissa again, please. I know it was a mistake, but do you have to do this? ~
"...ever was," Ar'resh agreed. "Plus she's not afraid of you the way she was, and you've already started off so well with this rescue." She leaned forward, a hand on his arm. "You really need to start thinking about these things. Just look at all the time you've wasted. Why I bet that Ella here would have just..."
"...been swept off her feet if you'd kissed her properly after that rescue." Rexa smiled at Ella. "Then you could have spent all those days on the way here together, getting to know each other and making love until you were..."
"...both exhausted and you'd managed to get rid of all that pent-up tension you carry around, Heinrich." Ar'resh frowned as she speared a worm with her fork. "Your Uncle Bernhard was just like you when we first met. It took us almost a year to finally get him to relax after we were married." Her frown faded, a sly smile replacing it. "Not that there was anything wrong with that year, mind you. In fact..."
"...we'd spent so much time in bed with him that we received warnings that our performance - work performance, mind you - was starting to suffer," Rexa sighed, her smile echoing her sister's. "Bernhard was a man of very large appetites and he had a *lot* of tension built up - just like you do"
"Oh yes," Ar'resh agreed. "Why, some nights it took both of us to..."
"I..." Victor got out in a slightly strangled voice, praying to stop the conversation before it went any further awry, "think I just saw them put out a fresh batch of worms on the bar. Didn't you say that the ones you got were old?"
~~Did I ever say 'thank you', Victor?~~ Ella signed to him when Rexa and Ar'resh had turned away for a moment to examine the waiter at the bar as he restocked. ~~My memory is kind of hazy~~
~~I don't remember, either.~~ he signed back. ~~But we were busy - and you don't have to.~~
~~Well, thank you.~~ Ella smiled and then turned back to listen to more of Rexa's lecture on Krieghoff men.
Victor blinked, unused to the idea that anyone would thank him for anything except leaving. He looked down at his plate, concentrating on his food and trying to not hear what his aunts were saying. ~ Please let this be over before they finally come up with something worse than they've already managed. ~
She tilted her head, studying his expression. She wondered if he got thank you'd often.
"You really are a treasure, Ella," Ar'resh interrupted the thought, patting her on the arm. "Is there anything we can do to help things along between you and our Heinrich? I know he doesn't talk about himself much - all the Krieghoff men are like that - but if there's anything you'd like to know..."
"...just ask and I'll be glad to tell you," Rexa nodded. "What he likes to eat, what his hobbies are, and which ones his favorite colors are - anything like that." She chewed a grub thoughtfully, studying Ella. "For instance, if you wore your hair loose instead of pulled back, he'd like that a lot. That was the only thing...
"Victor looked up, wincing.
"...the poor Bajoran girl managed to do right," Ar'resh sighed. "She just wouldn't listen to us at all. It must have been Heinrich's strong protective instincts that got them together at all. She just wasn't right for him, no matter how hard we tried to help out. Why, they hardly ever made love..."
"...from what we saw. Not," Rexa smiled at Ella, "a problem that I think you'd have with our Heinrich. You might have to be a little forceful - just to get his attention, mind you. The Krieghoff men are like that, all wrapped up things in their heads and trying to keep people at arm's length. But once you got his attention, it might be days before you found time for anything else."
Ella grinned, couldn't help throwing a speculative look Victor's way. After all, it had been a long mission and a little flirting couldn't hurt anyone. From what the aunts had told her, she didn't think it would amount to anything. He caught her eye and for a moment there was something there, but whether it was amusement, sadness, or lust she didn't know, before he returned his attention to his aunts.
This must be a questioning of his loyalty.
He was being tested.
There was no other explanation.
First, his patience is strained just by being inserted into the human infestation on the supposed flagship of the Fleet. It was said he was relocated here to discipline this vessel's Captain, but how? He is surrounded by chaotic thought and dissented dementia. There was no order, no logic to the daily tasks of this vessel. It was akin to gathering water in your hands as you cup it and it flows through the seams of your fingers. You cannot grasp it as it is too slithery.
This desire for 'freedom of thought' wil destroy them all. Do they not see they are but just children, needing to be led through their existence? Bah!
Secondly, he was suspect in a series of murders that took place on board the Galaxy. These inferiors have the gall to accuse him of murder? It wouldn't be murder to put these wasteful carbon-based forms to rest. It would be merciful for all. As a result he was beaten and damaged almost to the point of death, but still no reprieve.
Thirdly, his struggle for resolution of his original form. The quagmire of human thought and emotion saturated him so. This will continue to assail him.
Then, the mental test over the Defiant. As a result of the breaking of his disciplines due to the human plague of emotions, he experienced true horror of exile from his Kelvan peers. If he were in his true Kelvan form, he would not have fell victim to the madness that took his linear thought away. He was manipulated into attempting to destroy the Defiant by his own broken logic.
Thankfully, this was defeated by one whom he felt was a step above the cellular mush of humanity. The Andorian Tactical officer. Soleri, was it? Thew wife of a human. How disdainful. Yet, she had not become infested with the 'feelings' (sneer).
Brhode, in his so-called infinite wisdom, deemed fit to imprison her within her own quarters. Now, they were in a location where she and her aggressive efficiency would possibly be most needed.
lanjep.
The centralized location of all the major powers in the Federation and beyond. The place where that human female almost single-handedly destroyed the very bastion of peace so many before her had struggled so hard to attain. He so hoped she was not being beamed down to the surface. Karyn Dallas was a piece of work, alright. Here's to you, Counselor and your superiority complex that you hope disguises your true simpleton nature.
Back to the issue of the Andorian. She was only performing her duties to the Federation as cannot be said for Brhode. He left the bridge at a high point just sink into his feelings. Singing in the hallways, hugging personnel. That is not the duty of a Captain. He sets a poor example.
Therefore, utilizing the powers of the Judge Advocacy Office, all charges drawn up against the Andorian female have been dropped and she has been released. Brhode will not get the better of the Liaison Office.
He sat back in his chair, the glow of the small planet serving as a backdrop to his sinewy silhouette. Signing off on his journal, he spun the chair to face the dull bluish planet, embellished by the rings of the nearby satellite emitting its soft burgundy tint. They were on the day side of the planet. The actual outpost where all the activity had been the year past had passed around to the dark side.
He had decided not too long ago to go down to the planet and visit the Kelvan Embassy based in the upper southern hemisphere, since the Diplomatic Center was off-limits, due to the ineptitude and subsequent expulsion of the Federation parties. It was their version a Terran summer. Hot, humid, sun pouring down 18 hours a day.
chal blQ. There was a shuttle going out in twenty minutes, and he had passage booked on it.
Kylar exited the shuttle into a bright promenade filled with all sorts of people, places, and things. He was set upon instantly by wandering vendors, whom he shrugged off without thought. Of course, they were used to the ignorance and jumped on the next victim.
Moving out from under the shaded pavilion where he had docked, the sun beat down upon his shortened hairs. Sweat immediately began to glisten from his pores. The temperature was at least 96 degrees Fahrenheit (about 35 celsius). Almost like home.
The sky was a lighter blue than Terran, few clouds above. Kites flew in the hot breezes, flying low due to the barometric pressure. lanjepi seagulls soared above, flocking to the crowds who left their garbage and food laying in the streets ripe for the picking.
Kylar was dressed in a simple white short-sleeved top, bereft of any logos, and knee length leggings with leather sandals. They were not for aesthetics, but practicality. Shifting his pack, he slipped onto the somewhat crowded sidewalk, stopping occasionally to watch the arena battles that took place every few meters on the sandy beaches amidst the shopping bazaars that littered the opposite side of the sidewalk promenade like a flea market.
*****
“I’m telling you Frank it was like something off of an old X-Files:3000 episode.” Lieutenant Thomas Jordan, Starfleet JAG shook his head at the memory of his brief run in with his newest client. “You got the mysterious damsel in distress, whose nervousness obviously means she is hiding something. Next you have the uber-gestapo Section 31 turd swooping in out of nowhere to ‘detain’ the heroine for reasons of national security or some nonsense like that. I swear it was that creepy.
Security Ensign Frank Valerio (currently doubling as Jordan’s makeshift secretary) leaned back in his chair and chuckled.
The way his boss described his meeting with the poor stuttering Rebecca von Ernst, and her subsequent detouring by the ultra-grumpy Commander Zaletta made for an amusing anecdote in an otherwise boring day. “Only catch is that if this was a holo-episode, the damsel in distress would be some half-dressed blond bombshell instead of this squirrly looking redhead.” Frank said frowning at an unimpressive holo-record of the young Galaxy XO “How are you gonna finish your trial prep without the client?”
“I don’t know when I’m gonna see her again even.” The Attorney sighed with exasperation. “This Zaletta character mentioned something about having her review some PADDS on Tactical considerations, and zip they were gone.”
He spread his arms to indicate frustration. “I admit its only an informal hearing, but I’d like to at least interview to lady before I represent her tomorrow morning.”
Ensign Valerio nodded, but something else was bothering him. “Real odd the way you say that Ernst girl was acting. I had a sister serve with her on the USS Prospero, and let me tell you, I got a letter every week about what a major Bitch the Commander was. She called the team of Brhode and Ernst, ‘Fire and Ice’ if you can picture that.”
Jordan frowned. The skittish little thing he met at the Airlock was more ‘slushy-girl’ than an ‘Ice Queen’. Maybe the episode aboard the Defiant was worse than the official report stated.
“Maybe. . .” Jordan allowed, but whatever he was about to say next was interrupted by the door chime.
Odd. There were no more scheduled appointments for the day.
He nodded towards Frank who buzzed the door open.
In the doorway there stood a slim redheaded woman of perhaps 25-27 years of age wearing a crisp Starfleet uniform. Alight dusting of freckles adorned her snow white cheeks, and a pair of hard brown eyes started out from under long crimson bangs.
It was the Commander from the Galaxy. . . . .at least it looked like her.
Jordan’s Lawyer instincts immediately set off alarms, for even without saying a word, he could tell that the entire demeanor of Commander von Ernst had changed.
She held her pert body erect with shoulders squared, and her gaze was no longer nervously avoiding that of others, but instead seemed to consider Jordan and Valerio as if they were some sort of curious insects to be studied.
“C. . .Commander von Ernst?” he found himself verifying, despite the fact he had seen her not two hours before.
“Who else would you be expecting Lieutenant?” the girl at the door replied. Her voice still soft and whispery, but now containing a chilly edge to it that hadn’t been there before.
Her brown eyed gaze flicked over to Valerio who busily found himself avoiding the glare.
Jordan frowned, “Oh, of course.” He blathered, “I just wsant sure when you would be done. . .or when Commander Zaletta would be done. . .well. . . .”
“My involvement with the development of Starfleet’s Tactical Regimens are beyond the scope of you and your little office Mr. Jordan.” Von Ernst stated flatly. “Suffice it to say that the best use of your time now would be to prepare for this hearing tomorrow so that I may return to the Galaxy as soon as possible. Otherwise do not waste my time.”
~~~’Your little office’~~~ Jordan gaped ~~~What the fu--~~
“Uh. . .yes of course Ma’am, uh. . . . I’m sorry did I introduce you to my assistant Ensign Frank Valerio? He said he had a sister that served with you on the . . . . .”
“Lieutenant Janice Valerio, Engineering Specialist USS Prospero.” Von Ernst interrupted smoothly. “Starfleet Class of ’75, overall GPA of 2.9, and an officer efficiency rating of 76%”
She stared down at Valerio.
“I hope you make a better secretary than your sister does an engineer.”
“Now hang on just a min—“Frank started.
“Mr. Jordan.” Rebecca interrupted turning her eyes back on the Attorney. “If you are done with the chit chat, and the review of family records, then I suggest we proceed. The Galaxy is on skeleton crew currently, and I want to get back before somebody starts making off with the furniture if you don’t mind.”
There was an awkward silence as Jordan and Valerio gaped at the intense little redhead.
She may have been half their size, but she was as headstrong as a snow avalanche, and twice as cold.
Jordan sighed. At least the hearing was gonna be a snap with this change in attitude.
“Of course Ma’am. Lets begin by reviewing the Defiant Mission Logs.”
TBC.......
The hearing, in fact, went much quicker and easier than JAG Officer Thomas Jordan could have predicted.
The various questions into the failed Away Team mission aboard the USS Defiant were efficiently and accurately answered by the stone faced Commander Rebecca von Ernst who seemed almost casual in her vivid descriptions of the interdimensional slaughterhouse that had once been a proud Starfleet vessel.
“So what you are saying Commander,” one of the inquisitors droned while perusing a PADD, “Is that the effects of the documented Interphase madness took a hold of your away team and caused these various delusions of ghosts and such nonsense?”
“No Commodore,” von Ernst replied in her soft, but emotionless voice, “The visions were real and quite tangible. If you will note in section 3 of my After Action Report you will note that several of my team members were literally peeled like a grape, and had their various internal organs aesthetically draped about the room. Illusions don’t turn Starfleet Personnel into Potpourri.”
There was shocked tittering throuout the chamber at the generally callus remark, but Ernst had been making such statements all morning.
Jordan himself was initially shocked at his clients bald statements, but gradually realized that she was not using them for shock value, but merely to quickly and accurately describe the situation at hand.
~~~She really does not seem to realize the horrible things she is saying.~~~ he thought. ~~~She’s just approaching this like some damn tactical exercise.~~~
“Order. . .Order!!!” the Chief of Inquiry admonished the gallery with a firm stare. “I need not remind the witnesses that this is not a civilian court, and as such those present are subject to military discipline. Any more such outbursts and I’ll have the chambers cleared.”
The tittering died immediately.
The questions continued. “Your descriptions are quite frank Commander. I admit that they serve the purpose of clearly defining your position, and yet I cant help but feel confused,” the inquisitor paused to lift a PADD from the desk before him. “I hold here your aforementioned After Action Report. While the essence of the AAR bears out your present testimony, I cannot help but note the remarkable difference in tone between today and the incident two weeks ago. If you’ll permit me. . . . . . “
The Inquisitor quickly tapped in a sequence of computer commands and unseen speakers concealed in the ceiling crackled to life with the recording of the First Officers Log as recorded by Rebecca following her return from the Defiant.
==== “. . . . . . fficers log, Stardate 78596.2 C.
. .c.. c.ommander Re. . .R . .Rebecca von Ernst in t. .t. .t.emporary command
of the Galaxy. Pursuant t. .t.. . to regulations regarding . . . . fitness for
duty, I . . .I have b. . .been forced to relieve Captain Brhode of Command pending
his r. . .r. .r.ecovery form the effects o f the interphase Madness. . . ..
Witnesses are Lt Comamnder Electra Reece, and Lt. Donovan Black. . . . .”=====
There was a short high pitched warble of noise as the recording fast forwarded for several moments to a different section of the log.
=====”. . . . . . been removed from my d. ..dduties by Captain Brhode. . . .h. . . h. .he’s not happy a. .a.bout all this. . . . The Away Mission. . .. my actions. . . .Oh. . . .noodles so many d. . .s.,. .died. . .. . Ensign Wanner. . . .ripped apart. . .the blood. . . . .. James Corgan exposed to vacuum. . .. .My momma. . . .oh n. . .n.. .ooodles.”======
The recording clicked off at the inquisitors command, and he considered the young redheaded officer with a wan grimace.
“You see my problem Commander.” He sighed. “It took several hours of wading in and out of your apparent . . . .shall we say unusual speech patterns, before we could piece together an accurate picture of what happened aboard the Defiant. As a matter of fact despite your rather crisp answers today, or perhaps BECAUSE of them, I am forced to wonder if perhaps you were in fact under the effects of some altered mental state. I have a brief from your Dr. Malgin to the effect that the Theragan derivative was not as successful as initially surmised. Do you deny this possibility?”
Rebecca didn’t blink. “Of course. You’re wrong. . . .I’m right.”
Jordan groaned inwardly, only barely able to keep a neutral expression on his face.
= = = = = = = = =
The hearing lasted well past the noon hour in much the same manner. The board questioning the wisdom of Rebecca’s decision to take along such a large away team. . ..the wisdom of splitting up. . . .the apparent malfunction of the hangar bay doors that left the team stranded, and the sudden intervention of the odd Dr. Quick in the whole affair.
In fact, someone had actually managed to locate the esteemed Doctor on one of lanjep’s many nude beaches, and drag his sunburned skinny butt back up to orbit to explain his involvement.
“Oh the DEFIANT!” Quick repeated with a shudder, “Totally bad vibes man. . . .that was one wicked trip.”
“A Trip you say?” the inquisitor asked, “DO mean to say that the effects were of a hallucinatory nature, and not actually real?”
The Doctor shook his shaggy head fiercely, “Not even bro. It was like this psycho starship demon from the pits of heck itself. It was like this evil she-beast. It was a witch!”
“A witch?”
“Totally dude. . . .and like she turned me into a pile of worms even.”
Eyebrows were raised. “Worms?”
Quick paused and glanced about sheepishly. “Well. . .. I got better.”
= = = = = = = = =
“And so in conclusion, we the board of inquiry for Starfleet’s lanjep sector of operations do hereby clear Commander Rebecca von Ernst, Starship USS Galaxy from any direct negligence in the handling of the events aboard the USS DEFIANT. “
“However in regards to the removal of Captain John Q Brhode
from Command we find there to be contradictory evidence regarding the nature
of the Captain's impairment. In light however of the fact that Brhode was not
currently present on the bridge, and the critical nature of the situation, we
will limit discipline to the placing of a mild reprimand in Commander von Ernst’s
career file.”
“On the final note of the unprofessional nature of the First Officer’s Log following the incident, we also recommend an ongoing psychological evaluation of the Commander to be undertaken by members of the Galaxy’s Counseling Staff as soon as feasible. Court is adjourned.”
The onlooking audience let loose its collective breath in a rush of air. True this was only a minor hearing and not a true trial, but the details had been interesting for the fledgling lanjep base nonetheless.
Jordan likewise sighed in relief. Things could have gone much worse, such as filing of criminal charges, and referral to a full court martial.
“Well Commander, “ he looked over at his diminutive client, “We really dodged a bullet on that one. Sorry about that reprimand though. . . . .”
“The reprimand is irrelevant to my career.” Ernst interrupted without so much as batting an eyelid. “My plans and duties to Starfleet remain unaffected by this little interruption, save for the time it has cost me in missed hours.”
“Little interruption. . . ?” Jordan gaped.
Ignoring her attorney, Rebecca crisply tapped her communicator with a flick of the wrist. “Von Ernst to Galaxy. My responsibilities are fulfilled here. . . .Status report please.”
=/\= BRIDGE HERE. LIEUTENANT VALDEZ REPORTING. . . .HOW’D IT GO COMMANDER> DID WE WIN? =/\=
Rebecca’s eyes narrowed and Jordan could swear he felt the temperature drop a few degrees. “My affairs are not of your concern Mr. Valdez. I requested a status report.”
=/\= UH. . .UH. . .YES MA’AM. UM. . .STANDARD GEOSYNCHRNOUS ORBIT MAINTAINED. ALL PRIMARY SYSTEMS POWERED DOWN FOR MAINTENANCE, AND SKELETON CREW ABOARD WHILE SHORE LEAVE PARTIES ARE BEING ROTATED TO THE SURFACE. CAPTAIN BRHODE AND COMMANDER HAWKSLEY ARE LIKEWISE ON THE SURFACE.=/\=
“Indeed?” Rebecca mused, “Very well Mr. Valdez, beam me aboard and set us up for a series of tactical drills. We will be using the absence of the crew to simulate operations under massive crew casualties. Initiate drill once I am aboard.”
=/\= GULP. . AYE MA’AM. . .ENERGIZING NOW.=/\=
As Tom Jordan’s perplexing little client disappeared in a shower of light, the attorney could only grunt and mutter to the empty space. “You’re welcome for getting you off.”
OOC: Bonus geek-points to anyone who identifies the movie I stole a line from in this post.
********************
"...though the Federation was once considered to be behind in the development of ground based assault vehicles, having chosen instead to focus on shuttlecraft, pods, and hoppers for their away and assault missions, the ARGOS (Away/Assault Response Ground Operational System) Weapon platform brought the Federation more than up to speed in the Ground Based ATV arena. The ARGOS system holds true to Starfleet doctrine; a versatile, modifiable, high tech vehicle that can do anything, anywhere. It can be modified aboard any Fleet ship aand deployed where needed. Although reliant on custom designed 'packs' and plug ins, the modular design gives the lightweight vehicle an agility and 'surprise' advantage over its closest rivals, such as the Klingon KR-3400 Light Assault APC (Ground) or the Gorn K'sha ZTL series tractors. The ARGOS more than compensated size and brute power with superior speed and handling..."
Quote from Jane's "Fighting Ground Vehicles of the Alpha Quadrant Galactic Powers" Circa, 2380.
*******************
The dust was already kicked up. The race had already begun. The KR-3400 was blasting towards the location of the first flag, it's shimmering mirage a distant memory, the dust that was settling down the only sign of it's presence.
The Argos was still barreling along behind it, the mighty engine now screaming like a Denevian Hellcat. The huge wheels gouging deep into the skin of lan'Jep and throwing the vehicle forwards. The vehicle lurched to the side, driving on two wheels to avoid a large and forboding rock. The Argos landed back on its feet, tearing mud and ass towards the first objective.
"Ummmm... Lexa?" James ventured to shout over the noise.
"Yes?" She quivered quite nervously, wrestling with the steering controls.
"Please... STEP ON IT!!!!!!!!" James panicked, "They're getting away!!!!!!!!"
"What?" she demanded, letting go of the controls and turning to him, as much as the harness restraints would allow her to. The ARGOS slewed wildly, out of control, her foot still pressing the accelerator for MAX speed to the floor,as she turns. The Steering wheel jittering on its own, as the mighty wheels transferred every jolt and bump on the ground, to it.
"EAT THIS!" bellowed Bhrode, sending futile shot after shot at the Klingon ATV.
"EYES ON THE ROAD!" shouted James, seeing a huge boulder loom into view, and quickly dissapear
"Don't yell at me. And there is no road. " Lexa replied in a frosty manner, taking control of the craft again.
"Touche... but look at the yellow markers! Don't go on the other side of them!" He pointed out at the screen.
"James.. you don't own me.. if you are.. upset about Lysander... I can explain.." she shouted over her shoulder, still wrestling the wheel.
The Argos crushed a large rock under its cloven hooves, jostling the crew inside. James bumped his head on the rollcage inside the Crew Compartment. He swore venemously at the vehicle and went back into the conversation. "Look Lex, date whoever you want. It's over, remember? But of all the people... Lysander? You have to be out of your f**king mind! Lysander's not only a moron, but a bonafide @$$hole! HARD TO THE LEFT!!!"
"Don't you DARE YELL AT ME JAMES LIONEL CORGAN!" Lexa yelled at James.
"Told you." Bhrode smirked from his perch.
Lexa jerked the wheel, avoiding a thick Lanjepi Colossi Cactus. James breathed a sign of relief. He looked for the Klingons, but they were nowhere in sight. The dirty bastards didn't even show a shimmer in their cloak! It was frustrating James to no end! "You don't expect me to be somewhat concerned, right? Besides, Lysander is married to Rebecca's mother for Christ sakes!" James tried, in a calmer tone of voice.
"He is not! He's as single as you or I! Married to who? Rebecca's mother? How would YOU know? Still 'friends' with Rebecca? it is funny, how your and my friendship seems to be so shallow and ONLY coming from me, but your other 'friends'.... ...Commander HAwksley had...depths. and... you and Rebecca? He LOVES her... and he's insane with jealousy about her...being.. in.. your quarters!" Lexa shouted back at James, not knowing he had made his way behind her control chair.
"WHAT?!?!?? How does he know about that!!!! She asked for freakin' guitar lessons!!!" James defended himself, "At least she doesn't try to drool all over me like Commander C*cksmith! Hell, that crazy, half assed horndog wants to have sex with every sentient female in the Galaxy! Have you ever thought that he may just be hitting on you and trying to pick up Rebecca at the same time?!?!?! Like I said, date whoever you want... but not HIM!!!!!!!"
"Don't TELL me what to do! Both Lysander and I out-rank you! And Rebecca does too drool over you... what was all that stuff about YOUR BABY she was mumbling?" Lexa screeched, with feminine logic.
"Errrrrr..." replied Lysander, whose bemused face was on the comm screen. "I'm not married to anyone...holograms don't count... and it was just the one time..."
"SHUT UP!" James and Lexa screamed, hard and in synch, at the comm-panel.
A small ravine lay ahead of the Argos. The KR-3400 hovered over the crack in the earth with ease, the antigrav cushion reaching the bottom and buoying teh craft over the divide with ease. Lysander didn't even slow down for it. But for the Argos, it would be a very long fall!
"I see a patch of dirt to the right! We can ramp off it!" James relayed the information, and got back to the real important topic, "Lexa, please don't date him! He's bad news!"
"I'm on it! And butt out of my personal life. You had your chance..." Lexa veered to the right, hitting the pile of dirt on time. The Argos vaulted in the air, her tires spinning dirt and roaring like a leaping stallion at a steeple chase. The Argos crew felt weightless as it launched horizontally, and then felt their stomachs hit their bowels and their mouths simultaneously as the Argos plowed back into terra firma.
"Nice landing." Bhrode commented, staring at the bitten off plug of his cigar ruefully.
"This has nothing to do with you and I...I ...I ..I came down to say...to see... you... to see your face and...." Lexa stuttered over the words, clearly not liking having to deal with the ARGOS and this emotional minefield at the same time.
A bump and jarring whine came from the underside of the ARGOS.
"Mines." Bhrode announced in his all-knowing tone, from his perch.
"Yours? I am NOT yours anymore James Lionel Corgan!!" Lexa shouted, her usually calm demeanor clearly stressed out, as she misheard. "If I want to go out to dinner with a FRIEND, I will! The same as YOU will entertain Klingon Princess Friends, and Rebecca friends in YOUR quarters at all hours!" she shouted at James.
"HEY! I never said you were mine. I was yours until we broke up! Always has been!" James objected, "I'll have you know that Rebecca is my friend, and I don't give half a sh*t about that Princess!"
"Then FINE! I don't love Lysander! Although even if I did, it'd STILL be none of your bees-wax! Although you still haven't said anything about this seranade to the nurses! " Lexa snapped. "There's a tree ahead!"
"What?" James tried to follow the chain of logic.
"Tree ahead!" Lexa spat out.
"Whaaa? Where!"
"AHEAD!" Lexa and Bhrode shoutred in chorus.
James spied the tree with the sensor suite of the ARGOS. He saw the tree, and he saw what was inside. A juKka nest! His heart was elated! The first object was found! "Fine! I'm cool with that, but I still hate that f**king bastard!"
"Errrr.... I can still hear you. And she kissed me Jimmy." Lysander added unneededly.
"FOR THE LAST TIME, SHUT UP!!!!!!" Lexa and James screamed in unison at each other.
"Bad sports!" Lysander pouted. "Errr... smeg... what do you mean you're getting out? Log! Close the hatch! I'd doing 120 Kilos per hour! At least let me slow down...Lexa, I'll call you right back...." Lysander nattered.
"Bye Lys." Lexa absently blew a wisp of hair out of her face and glared at James.
"Alright Lexa. Drive me to the side of the tree. Slow down a bit, get me close enough to grab the nest! Then when I get the nest... gun it!" James requested.
"Gun it? Isn't the Captian in charge of the..." She asked, unsure.
"Darn tooting I am." Bhrode announced, sending a fusilade of shots under teh now-visible KR-3400's skirt and watching the flurry of dirt and rock make the Klingon vehicle dance.
"Step on the accelerator."
"Oh... right." Lexa eyed the two bars nervously. She giongerly pressed the accelerator further and sighed a sigh of relief as teh ARGSO surged forwards faster.
"That's it Honey..." James said absent-mindedly.
"Don't CALL me that anymore" Lexa snapped.
As the Argos decelerated near the tree, the KR-3400's armor shield shimmered off, as a slablike piece of the invisible body seemed to fall off. It left a wide, rectangular hole, showing Major Log scrambling madly out of the KR-3400's rear hatch. He glared in teh direction of the approaching Federation vehicle and seemed to visibly swell inside his Marine Battle Armour.
James turned to a more apologetic tone. "Lexa... you have a point. If he's a friend... then he's a friend. I shouldn't have got mad like that at you."
"Why... thank you James. I apologize as well." Lexa responded positively.
"Yeah... i'm mad at Lysander." JAmes added as an afterthought.
"WHAT?!?!?!"
"Lex, I don't want to see you hurt again! I did it once and totally f**ked our relationship over. I don't want Lysander to do the same to you."
"He won't... because he's a friend. Just like how you and Rebecca are friends, or just like how you and Rose are friends, or how we are friends. How come all your friends are women? Lys used to be your friend..." Lexa started to calm down, in synch with the Argos deceleration.
"Yeah... well about that Lexa..." James nervously sweated. Log was now dangerously close to the juKka nest, and Lexa was close to calming down completely. "I need to talk to you later about that... But for now... gun the engine when I give you the signal."
"Gun... oh accelerate? Right. What signal? And what do you need to talk to me about?" Lexa grilled her ex-boyfriend suspiciously.
"Oh... you'll know it. And Lexa... since it's been six months... we can call it officially over, right? We can move on?"
"Yeah? Why? And what Signal?"
"Well... you see..."
**********
Laughing Horse Log studied the approaching vehicle with nonchalance.
No worries. Except that Captain Bhrode might shoot him in a rage for beating them all this easily.
Stifling a bored yawn behind his tinted faceplate, he tilted his head to study the tree.
~~Big tree.~~ he mused to himself.
"...I mean... she's a pretty girl... all I did was say 'Wanna get some smeggin' dinner?' and she said yes! Then, all of a sudden, she suggests that French place on the Promenade. I just had meant replicators twosies!" Lysander was nattering over Log's helmet link.
Setting his gauntlets on the massive tree trunk, Log studied the girth of the tree.
"Umm hmmm" he grunted to Lys, hoping the Centaurian got the hint to shut up.
"So she's wearing this loooo cut drerss. VERY not Reece-like! Although it looks smegging great! I mean.. she is a BABE! Boobs fallign out... no back WAyyyy down...Leo saw us on teh promenade and about had a stroke..." Lys enthused.
"Ugh.....mmmmmm" Log grunted, starting to use his massive arms and shoulders to pull himself up the rough, iron-like surface of the tree. Mighty thighs wrapped around the trunk and squeezed.
"...so I bought her smegging roses... ARGOS 120 metres.....what woman doesn't like Terran roses? Except smegging Princess... she prefers unwashed laundry or something...." Lys babbled.
After shimmying the tree, log stood on the branch and Log studied the nest, not too far off the ground. It was bigger than the KR-3400.
"juKka bird. How big?" Log grunted, cutting off a rant on the price of terran roses.
"Smeg! err...the General says they can have a 14 metre wingspan. SO Streeley says 'Buy the BEST roses, and you score!" and I ask him..." Lys babbled, after a whispered consultation.
"Tell him to keep an eye on the sky." Log grunted, arms wrapped around the massive egg, thick legs almost buckling under the massive weight.
"Streeley? Your brother tossd him in the Brig under Bhrode's orders."
"No..brother..." Log grunted, wondering if he could drop the heavy egg on Lys.
"I wouldn't admit a Streeley relation myself..." Lys
babbled.
"Is this the same fool that tried to blow up the lanJepi Orbital Battlestation
last year?" the General demanded.
"I...have...no...brother...anymore..." Log grunted with each straining step, under teh weight of the massive and dense egg.
and then....
...the egg escaped from Major Log's hands.
"YOINK!" James Corgan taunted as he snatched the egg out of the Logs' grasp, the ARGOS barely clearing the underside of the branch that Log and the nest perched on.
Standing on the upper hatch of the ARGOS, Bhrode and James wrestled the massive egg back into the ARGOS.
Log, having been knocked off balance, rolled in the dust, after fallen the five metres from the nest to the ground. He dusted off his armour and loped back to the open hatch of the Klingon vehicle.
"You GAVE it to them!" Lys screeched from the hatch.
"Just about." Log grunted, hiding a limp. No tribesman of his people would admit a brised bum from a tumble like that.
"What?" demanded the Klingon General from the Co Pilot's seat.
"Not 'what'... 'How' My people say 'How' " Log grunted, grabbing the rollcage as Lys closed and sealed the hatch.
"Very well.. How?" The General snorted.
"How." Log replied.
"How smeggign what? And why are you holding on like that? I haven't engaged the drive yet." Lys snorted, settlign back into the drivers seat.
"How did I know the juKka bird was coming back? I saw it." Log replied.
"ohhhhhhhh K'RepAc!" The General moaned, as a huge shadow eclipsed the lanJepi desert for several moments.
"We don't have its egg." Log said, studying the massive talons flexing over the KR-3400's upper gun platform with interest.
"Smeg....." Lysander breathed in awe.
"Big juKka Bird. Two warriors could ride that one. Assuming anyone could ever train one of the things without them ripping your head off. They're carnivores you know." the General commented.
A growling roar broke the silence of the high desert, as the juKka bird flapped off in pursuit of the ARGOS.
"Follow that bird." the General commanded.
TBC
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