USS
Galaxy:The Next Generation Sim Log Stardate: 50301.25 - 50302.02 |
~ Killkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkill! ~ The single thought pounded into Victor's brain with sledgehammer blows, driving out any other thought before it could form. His entire universe had narrowed to encompass only himself and the entity grappling with him; everything else including his surroundings and the presence of his crewmates was forgotten in the red haze that filled his thoughts.
The entity that had masqueraded as him, although startled at first by Victor 's escape from the mirror-realm, adapted quickly to the change in situation. The fight had gone badly for it in the first few moments, but Victor, even in his towering, mad rage, lacked the power to do any real harm to his opponent, and once its initial surprise was over, the tide changed quickly.
Some small rational part of Victor's mind realized this, and started to struggle to the surface of the red ocean of anger that filled his thoughts, desperate to assert some bit of control before it was too late.
"Interesting," the entity whispered, the words finding their way through the crimson haze covering Victor's thoughts. "Such focus, such rage - you really are more like the animal the woman named you than a man. Can you even hear me now, or is there nothing left of you in there to realize you're about to die? That I'm go to do wonderful things with your companions afterwards?" As it moved, the entity's mouth twisted, jaw reshaping itself monstrously as row after row of teeth punched up through newly emerging bone and flesh until the grotesquely enlarged mouth took up fully half the space of its head.
The speck of rationality that was left inside Victor swelled at it absorbed the entity's words, swimming faster as talons sprouted from the ends of the entity's fingers. As the talons reached for his throat, brushing aside the hands that delivered blow after meaningless blow to the thing pinned to the floor beneath him, the spark made a final push - and burst free of the surface.
"No." The single whispered word left Victor's throat as his hands caught the entity by the wrists and pushed the talons away from his throat.
"Oh, you *are* in there somewhere!" The reflection's smile widened again, a narrow, lizard-like tongue tracing what was left of its lips. "That makes things so much better - we can play some more now!"
Victor didn't answer for a moment as he dragged them to the side, rolling out from behind the table to prevent the reflection from snapping at him with its rows of teeth. He risked a quick head butt, more to startle the entity and buy him a second of time than out of any expectation of hurting it, and then used the time to roll again, opening the way for O'Rourke and the others to open fire.
"Ah, ah, ah." the entity whispered. "Not so easy to get rid of me. Their weapons won't hurt me, but they can kill you - and if you're dead, what's stopping me from taking them?"
"Maybe. we. both. die." Victor panted, jerking his head back from another bite.
"Both?" The reflection's laugh was sharp and edgy as broken glass. "I can't die - I'm immortal, eternal. I will always be here."
"Anything. everything dies. You just. forgot." Victor jerked the entity up when he peripherally saw O'Rourke about o take a shot, but So'ka stopped her and the entity threw itself to the side again. "Be glad." Victor added past gritted teeth, blinking away a dribble of saliva that had fallen from the entity's mouth into his eyes as they rolled, "to. help you. remember. how."
"Oh you're so much fun - so determined, so focused. It's so refreshing to have someone that isn't afraid of me to play with!" his reflection laughed softly, shifting appearance again as they rolled back and forth, this time into a true mirror-image of Victor. "Let's play a game with your companions, shall we?" it whispered. "Do you think they can tell us apart? Does the girl hate you enough to shoot no matter what? What do you say, shall we find out?"
"As long as you go too, she can shoot us both."
"Oh, but I won't, you know - die, that is. This is just a small part of me, like a single finger or toe - even if your companions were able to disrupt it, there would be all those others to keep on working. As many as I wanted."
The pair rolled back into view of the others as Victor jammed a knee into the reflection's groin, drawing another smile and no other reaction. "What? You expected that to work?" it mocked.
"It did," Victor panted as he rolled one more time, exposing the reflection' s back to the others - and O'Rourke fired.
The reflection started to respond, then spasmed as O'Rourke's shot drove into the center of its back, splashing slightly before digging in. The beam from the phaser rifle didn't pulse as usual, but remained on as O'Rourke held down the trigger, emitting a constant flow of energy pouring into its target that caused it to ripple, then distort as the energy matrix holding it together started to break down.
Writhing, the reflection tried to escape but couldn't pull free of the beam Cutter had modified, tried to reach for Victor but failed as it's limbs twisted and rippled like they were made of water and he kicked free. Finally, ultimately, it threw back what passed for its head and gave out a single wail like the scream of dying hydrogen atoms at the event horizon of a black hole - and was gone.
O'Rourke dropped her finger off the trigger as the beam started to eat into the floor, glanced at the power indicator, and swung the weapon to cover the figure lying on the floor. "Is that you?" she snapped shrilly. "Or did I kill the wrong one?"
~ Well, that's one finger that got stuck someplace it shouldn't have. ~ Victor lay there for a moment, forcing her to repeat the question before he answered, "Depends, O'Rourke, which one of us were you trying to kill?" He paused for a second, before adding, "Or did it really matter?"
"Damn you," O'Rourke hissed and raised the rifle halfway to her shoulder, stopping when So'ka laid a hand on it. "You're the real one, then."
"How can you tell?" Victor asked, slowly sitting up and draping his arms on his knees. "Besides the light show, I mean? We *did* both look just alike."
She glared at him for a moment, and dropped the rifle into So'ka's hands as her own started to shake suddenly. "I didn't want to shoot . it. as soon as its mouth opened." Her voice cracked in the middle of the sentence and she abruptly sat down, heavily. "Oh God," she whispered, sounding like a lost child as she wrapped her arm around herself and started to shake violently. "Oh God."
~ Damn. I didn't mean for that to happen. ~ Victor got to his feet and glanced at So'ka and Cutter, both of whom were eyeing him warily. ~ After what the thing did to them, I can't blame them. ~ "Thanks - I owe you," he nodded at O'Rourke, "all of you."
"You're welcome. sir," So'ka nodded, shifting his grip on the rifle to more casual one, "but we couldn't have done it without the Lieutenant here." He indicated Cutter. "He was the one that really made it work."
Cutter shifted on his feet and looked down, embarrassed. He shrugged, trying to indicate his small amount of help.
"No, sir," So'ka's voice was gentle but firm. "You were the key. Neither of us could read the tricorder and interpret the results correctly, much less modify the rifle. Without you. well, without you it wouldn't have been possible."
"I." Cutter flushed. "It. it wasn't anything special."
"If So'ka says they couldn't have done it without you," Victor offered, walking up slowly as the last of the rage flowed out of him and left him weak and shaking from his exertions, "then he means it. Thanks."
Cutter nodded once, unwilling to speak, and shifted positions again, almost like he was unconsciously looking for a route that would let him fly away. "Y-you're. welcome.."
~ Can't tell if he's still in shock from what the entity did to him, or if that's a reaction to me - or both. Probably both the way this mission is running. ~ Victor nodded again, and moved a step back to give Cutter some space, turning to So'ka. "Think you can get Hanley and Marsh down by yourself? I'm. not up to par at the moment."
The ensign looked penetratingly at Victor before he nodded in agreement. "I think you should sit down for a minute, sir. I'll go on and get them down."
~ Best suggestion I've heard in a while. ~ Victor swayed once, caught himself, and demonstrated his agreement by sitting down with the deliberate precision of a man afraid he'll fall without devoting his full attention to the movement. "I'll be all right, go on and help the others."
So'ka's expression clearly revealed his doubt, but he turned to the task of cutting Hanley and Marsh free without further comment.
~ Okay, what now? ~ Victor looked around the room. ~ O'Rourke's wiped out, Hanley and Marsh are still out, and I'm not sure that Lieutenant Kara'nin here isn't right behind O'Rourke. We can't go through anything like that again - we have to get out of here. ~ He glanced at O'Rourke, arms wrapped around her chest and shivering. ~ She's going into shock. I need to give her something to do, get her mind off what that thing did to her and onto something else. ~ "O'Rourke?" he sighed. When she showed no sign of answering, he repeated her name. When that failed, he leaned over slowly and touched her on the arm, saying softly. "Hey, O'Rourke?"
"No! Don't touch me!" Her voice was shrill and her eyes wide as her head snapped up at the contact. She jerked away from his fingertips, sprawling across the floor as she scrabbled backwards until she reached the wall, terrified eyes still on him. "Don't ever touch me!"
Victor stayed where he was for a moment, arm outstretched, as So'ka and Cutter stared at him. "All right," he said softly and evenly, drawing his arm back. He blinked once, the door to a tiny room so lost in the back of his mind that he wasn't consciously aware of it slamming closed with finality and fading away to nothingness. "I'm not going to touch you, O' Rourke," he continued softly, "but we have to get out of here before that thing comes back. We have to leave."
"Leave?" she repeated, eyes still on him, wide and panicked.
"Leave," he repeated, peripherally aware that So'ka had turned back to extracting Hanley from the extruded manacles holding him to the wall. "Go home - back to the Galaxy. Get away from here."
"Leave?" she repeated again, her voice less questioning and more hopeful this time. "Go. home?"
~ She's messed up bad - I hope the Counselor can get her head screwed back on straight, I'd hate to see this bastard win even after I. ~ He paused, hesitant to admit to himself what he was thinking, knowing what it would mean. ~ After I kill it. ~ "Yes, home, O'Rourke."
Slowly getting to his feet, he looked over at Cutter. "See if she'll let you help her up, all right? So'ka and I can get the other two, but she's going to need to make it out of her under her own power."
"I." Cutter stalled before nodding under the pressure of Victor's gaze. "Esema," He nodded, moving forward slowly, tentatively reaching a hand out to O'Rourke.
She didn't take it. Cutter continued to stand there, arm outstretched, not knowing what else to do. After a minute, he sighed, and reached down and wrapped his hands around the base of her arms and jerked her upwards. She stood, barely. O'Rourke turned and stared at Cutter's wings muttering something under her breath, "Ang--- angel."
Weak as Victor was, it took a few minutes to get all the gear scattered around the room gathered up and hung on himself or So'ka. With the ensign's assistance, he got Hanley, the lighter of the two, on one shoulder, and started for the door after Cutter and O'Rourke. ~ Got to get them to the Shuttlebay and those shuttles the Marines were fitting out; Log's people will get them home. Then. then I see what I can do about this bastard. ~
"Make certain that she sees Counselor Dallas when you get back to the Galaxy," Victor instructed So'ka. "Even if she doesn't want to. No one has something like that happen to them without needing some help afterwards."
"Aye-aye, sir," So'ka nodded. "I'll make sure that she does."
"Good." Victor looked around the interior of the shuttlecraft at the wounded - Marine and Starfleet alike - that Major Log had loaded her up with. ~ Looks like just about everyone got chewed up by this damn thing. ~ He smiled thinly, ignoring So'ka when he stepped back a little. ~ No sense putting this off any longer, then - So'ka's a good man, he'll make sure O' Rourke gets in to see Dallas even if he has to stun her and carry her. ~ "Two more things; first, do you have the tricorder with the full data records with you?"
The ensign nodded. "Yes, sir, and I've copied the information off to several of the other tricorders in each of the shuttles - if any of us get back, someone will have the data."
"Smart thinking," he nodded. "Second, I need your phaser." Victor held out his hand.
So'ka eyed the three Victor had already collected and slung on a strap lifted from a Defiant-era issue tricorder that had been left in the shuttle by a souvenir-hunting crewman during the refit and hesitated fractionally. "Sir, when you said."
"Phaser."
Reluctantly, the ensign handed the weapon over, eyes troubled as he watched Victor check the charge to ensure that it was full. "Sir," he tried again, "when you get back."
"Sounds like you have everything under control here," Victor continued, cutting So'ka off. He turned to leave, stopped, and turned back. "You're a good man," he said softly, "and you're going to make a good officer. And I have never, not once, thought you were a coward." He held the junior officer 's eyes for a few seconds, nodded, and turned to leave.
So'ka watched him leave in silence. When there was no one but the unconscious and sedated wounded present, the ensign balled up his fist, slammed it into the metal side of the shuttle once, hard. He started to follow Victor, but stopped and squared his shoulders instead, sitting down next to his three companions; all sleeping under the effect of the sedatives the Marine medic had given them to whisper a single word. "Damn."
Victor stopped just outside the shuttle and took a deep breath, letting his thoughts go blank for a second as he closed his eyes. When he opened them, the emotions moving behind them were gone, leaving only a serene, deadly calm. ~ Time to go to work. ~
He took two steps, turned - and stopped, the calm in his eyes disturbed by the sight of a winged figure standing back out of the way to one side. ~ Can 't blame him for not wanting to stay in the shuttle - with those wings it'd be hell cramped up in there for any longer than necessary. ~ He started to turn away, changed his mind, and crossed the distance to Cutter in a few steps. "Lieutenant?"
"What are you planning to do?"
~ Short and to the point - maybe he's getting himself centered again. ~ Victor regarded Cutter for a moment. ~ No point in hiding the truth - he's a smart guy; he'd figure it out in short order anyway. ~ "Right now? Thank you again - I couldn't have gotten the others out if you hadn't come through foe us. After that?" He shrugged. "Kill it."
Cutter stared at Victor's jaw, still unable to meet eyes with him. "Kill what?" he asked. "I thought ... I thought that the phaser destroyed it already."
"That wasn't the whole entity. Just the part that was... for me." Victor looked up for a moment. "We're standing in the entity, on it. It's the Defiant. Possessing her anyway. The ship's... alive. That's what I'm going to kill."
"What are you ... How?"
Victor's voice was calm, even pleasant. "I'm going to Engineering." He shifted position slightly; the bandoleer of phaser 2's looped over one shoulder swinging. " Did you know that you can't eject the warp core on a Constitution-Class ship in an emergency?" he observed. " No provision for it. If it goes critical... well..." he shrugged. "Alive or not, that should do the job."
Cutter sat silently for a long while. He stepped to the side, in an attempt to get past Victor, who stood in the center of the hall. He stopped, against the wall, and asked, "Why can't you just destroy it from the Galaxy?"
~ Fair question. ~ "If it can do what it's done inside the ship, it has to be able to make the Defiant move as well. and fire her phasers. The shuttles won't make it if the entity decides that it's being cheated by your leaving - and that's not acceptable." His eyes remained calm, despite the self-destructive intent in his words. "Even if it doesn't work, maybe having someone to play with will distract it long enough for you to get away. If that's what it takes to get the rest of you off this ship and back to safety, then I can pay that price."
The Fruna'lin sat silently for another long while, unmoving. Then, slowly, he lifted his head and looked directly into Victor's eyes. He stood in that way for several moments more, his eyes locked on Victor's, for the first time since they had met. Cutter nodded, then stepped past Victor, brushing his shoulder with his wing and reentered the shuttle bay.
NRPG: Guess the secret Trek Reference in this story! Hint: You have to read the novels, and the reference comes from a Trek novel classic!
Delta Shift. Silent. Listless.
Unimaginably boring.
Such was the dilemma of the security four (formerly the security six, then the security five). It was bad enough that the last mission, a ripping, touching story of five security officers running scared for their lives like frightened rats in maze that made The Running Man look like a high school track meet. Not as bad as losing two friends in two missions, (hence, the security ‘four’), but still downright rotten.
But to be dumped in the dullest duty they could find? All while other officers were enjoying Lanjep’s nightlife? The nightlife that rated the colony as the Klingon answer to Ibiza? They were starting to learn quick that not only was life unfair, but so was duty on board the USS Galaxy.
To make it all worse, each security shmuck had their own quirks to contend with after the mission.
Lieutenant O’Rourke, the unofficial leader of the group (though she tries to step out of that responsibility). When she wasn’t burying her head in a thick PADD of Federation Laws or watching over her shoulder for someone to come in, she spent her duty shifts worrying about… anything! There was much anxiety packed into the Galaxy’s resident lawyer. The Defiant was the least kind on her out of all the others, choosing to stray within inches of violating her mind and body. Ever since, she stayed away from people whenever she could, and when she couldn’t avoid it, she tried to chase them away. The worse came when she relieved Lieutenant jg Krieghoff from duty. The tension in the room was thick enough to laser scalpel pieces away.
Lieutenant jg. E’xch, the unofficial clown of their group, (though he often thought of himself as the leader), hummed and hawed during his shifts. He made the most annoying sounds, akin to a whistling Selphi Bear Piranha being strangled by and orgasmic Scandinavian opera singer. Though on the Galaxy at the time of the Defiant incident, he picked up the annoying habit of singing after he stripped to his briefs in Ten Forward and decided everyone should learn the ‘Macarena’. The incident thereafter (classified) cost him one rank and a reprimand. The only thing that cheered him up, unfortunately, was singing.
Lieutenant jg. Walter Marsh, the resident expert on all things shootin’ and killin’, started to waft a strange, wet funk that smelled like mud, clay, and sweat. His visions (though he didn’t confess to them), gave him the impulse to go out and bring out his old war gear. That included his trophies, such as a string of Ketracel White vials on a necklace, a pouch full of Cardassian rank insignias, field camo makeup that covered his face and hands in greens and blacks, and a strange modification to his phaser rifle that nobody but a marksman could identify. Of course, his headband, stained with the mud of a dozen Cardassian colonies, was tied tight to his forehead.
Nobody knew what exactly happened to T’lan after she left the Galaxy for Starbase 164. All they knew, from her explanation, was that she was ‘undergoing that special time in a young Vulcan’s life… against my will… so don’t ask’. Nobody could guess, but when she came back, she seemed greatly refreshed and relieved. She wasn’t sweating, turning red, or causing first degree burns whenever she touched someone, but she was back to normal. There were people that could argue, claiming T’lan sometimes had a lusty twinkle in her eyes… but those were all dismissed. Vulcans never did ‘that’.
All were strangely silent. Marsh was patrolling the halls, his phaser rifle as steady as a rock, his feet slinking like he was in Chin’toka trenches. E’xch was doing the night’s paperwork, humming a ripping rendition of ‘Sailors of P’mata’. O’Rourke buried herself in the new revisions of the Federation Starship Leash Laws, and T’lan manned the still glitchy sensor net, trying to make sense of the quirky system by using her Vulcan intellect.
Her conclusion was swift and decisive. “The sensor net does not work within expected parameters.” T’lan announced.
“Damn. Again? But we just had it fixed.” O’Rourke popped her head out of her PADD in annoyance, “Well… get Engineering to fix the damn thing in the morning!”
“I can attempt to fix the sensor net.” T’lan offered coldly.
“I can help too! I’m great at programming sensor grids!” E’xch piped up excitedly, glancing at the beautiful Vulcan with hope and longing in his wretched mind.
O’Rourke gave both officers a sidelong stare, “No. The last time you two tried to do that, E’xch was found sleeping…”
”It was a Vulcan nerve pinch. He made an… unacceptable offer.” T’lan corrected.
“Ok… he was found unconscious on deck eighteen… right next to the relays you two were trying to work on… behind Engineering’s back. Forget it. Never again.”
“It was not an unacceptable offer. In Denobulan society, we cherish polygamy.” E’xch defended himself.
“That’s enough you two.” O’Rourke sighed dispairingly. Oh, how she wanted this shift to end! “Leave the sensor net. We’ll get the Engineers to finally fix the stupid thing.”
“There is a 94.58 percent chance that Engineering will not be able to eliminate all glitches in the sensor net the next time they come over to repair.” T’lan pointed out, “It has been noted that after the Quick Virus, the sensor net equipment was disrupted by the interspacial radiation. After that… hardware and software conflicts. By my calculations, factoring in the sub-par performance of other faulty systems such as the Particle Projection Cannon, we should have stayed in space dock until stardate 58999.84.”
“I say its stardate 70825.34.” E’xch retorted jestfully.
“58999.84.”
“70825.34.”
“Dammit you two, don’t you ever stop!?” O’Rourke snapped, throwing down her PADD in a huff.
“Do you ever stop with Krieghoff?” T’lan icily replied.
O’Rourke blushed. Her lips quivered and her face contorted into a mask of rage. Just when she was about to blow her stack, she willed herself to cool down. “OHHHHhhhhh! Don’t ever mention that bastard again! Hmph!” She promptly spun her chair around snatched her PADD, reading and facing away from her friends.
“Oh well…” E’xch sighed.
“Your outburst was unnecessary. I was merely trying to point out the precarious relationship you share with Lieutenant Krieghoff.” T’lan walked away from the sensor net controls, and walked to the replicator, “N’gann Milkshake. Cold.”
The replicator swirled and materialized a pink mixture in a clear cup. It smelled like strong peppermint.
*blip*
A sudden spike on the sensor net alerted T’lan’s sensitive Vulcan ears. Tossed her milkshake to the side, spilling the fluid into the carpet, and ran up to the panel of complex controls and multiple monitors.
“What’s going on?” E’xch enquired.
“Yeah, what’s up?” O’Rourke repeated the same thought.
T’lan hunched over the console, her pointed fingers pinpricking the keys enough to activate them. On the monitors, a plethora of information appeared, scrolling downwards, showing all sorts of charts, graphs and other sensor information. None of it anyone else but T’lan could translate at the current setting.
“Ummm… Lieutenant?” O’Rourke stared blankly at the flooded screens, “What is going on?”
“I don’t know!” T’lan announced, worried in the ‘Vulcan’ fashion, “Scanner one indicates that there is a power spike on deck 1. However, it won’t say what.”
“What do you mean?” E’xch asked.
“Well… according to the EM-spectrometer, it was a magnetic flux from a replicator… but the communications interceptions grid thinks it’s a love letter to me!” At that point, T’lan was losing her Vulcan serenity, “This system IS FLAWED!!!”
O’Rourke asked, “A love letter, to you?”
“It has the sexual innuendos and everything!” T’lan spat out, pointing to the one screen that showed the intercepted transmission.
<Text of love letter not explained for PG-13 reasons>
“Hmmmm…. I knew that looked familiar. So that’s where it went.” E’xch nodded, his smile defying the human concepts of face muscles.
“Love letters and confusing readings aside,” T’lan yelled over the din of an activated sensor warning, “All I can say is that there was a power reading coming from deck 1, section 3… the captain’s ready room!”
The type of moment had come for O’Rourke. It was that kind of moment where she froze up in terror, where the consequences of anything involving the Captain and his possessions was an indication of certain doom. It was a moment where horror movie music and cold sweat trickled across the body.
“Oh no. Oh no no no no nonononono! NO!” Hurriedly, She fisted her comm.-badge in a futile effort to get the device to communicate faster, “MARSH!!!!!!!!!!!!”
Meanwhile, on deck 2, lockerrooms.
“Here… spoony spoony spoony…” Marsh called sweetly out to the Cardassian that he swore was stalking him ever since his patrol though the jungles. The sweat, the damp earth, the chirping jungle birds… it was all back. He was home! God how he missed home. Stalking a spoonhead across the jungle… this was the life!
=/\=”MARSH!!!!!!!!!!!!”=/\= Trilled a screeching voice that panicked and begged for attention.
The jungle birds flew away in a rush of feathers and chirping. The jungle canopy parted and left an open sky… until the sky parted too and it revealed a beige roof. Jungle trees of dark brown, and lush green ferns and bushes receded deeper into itself, until there was nothing but beige walls with black wall panels.
“Dammit.” Marsh cursed, tapping his badge, “Marsh here. What do you want, O’Rourke?”
=/\=“Captain’s ready room…. power spike! Check it out! QUICK! Oh god… security alert!!!!!!!!!”=/\= O’Rourke panicked over the comm.-channel, no doubt the security office becoming a flurry of activity at this point.
No jungle threat could strike fear into Marsh’s heart like a direct threat to security from an irate Captain Brhode. Power surge at ready room meant… something going on. Secret transmission? Transporter signal? Assassin? Bomb?
More spoonheads?
”Alright! Let’s roll! Marsh out!” He enthusiastically cheered! He loved the taste of his own fear; it let the adrenaline give him a hell of a buzz! The happy thoughts of roughing up Cardassians or intercepting a transmission led to fantasies of saving the Federation singlehandedly, by way of beating the hell out of the mastermind.
In short, he rushed into the turbolift, rapid typed the co-ordinates to the bridge, and waited anxiously for the turbolift to take him to his final destination.
“Come on… hurry the hell up already!” Marsh swore at the turbolift.
Three seconds after he entered, he ran out full tilt, his rifle swinging left to right, the necklace clinkinging, the entire bridge crew looking at Marsh in a confused state, wondering if he was emitting that strange jungle smell. Marsh paid the graveyard shift bridge crew no mind. He was on a mission (in his own mind) to get some personal glory (to make up for the lack of kudos the Federation didn’t give him during the war!).
His fingers danced on the door’s console, deactivating the auto lock. The door opened with a swish, showing off darkness in the ready room. Marsh jumped in, tucking his body and rolling into the middle of the room. He bellowed, “LIGHTS! HANDS DOWN ON YOUR HEAD…” As dropped out of his roll and rapidly went down on one knee, his rifle fanning the ready room area.
He was the paragon of alertness one moment. The next, he was absolutely astonished. Instead of captain’s desk, he was staring at a blank space.
Uneasily, he tapped his badge to give the unfortunate news. “Ummmm… O’Rourke?” Marsh stuttered, “The captain’s not going to like this… but his desk is gone.”
Beads of sweat poured off Curot's bald head as he and Crom stood in the incredibly hot House of K'Alling, staring an irate woman Klingon in the eye. Av'on was looking through the small package attained from RuBla a few hours earlier. After a few moments that seemed to be entire eternities, she barked something in Klingon and smiled at the two ferengi. One of the Bat'leth weilding men came foreward and took the box from Av'on. He exited into an adjoining room behind a dark curtain.
Av'on stood and strode towards the two alien males, one quaking slightly, the other staring at her showing a total lack of emotion a Vulcan would have been envious of. She approached until her face was a mere inch from Crom's and breathed deeply, seeming to smell him. "And my bloodwine?"
"It will arrive in less than two hours, Federation Standard time." He turned away from her and took a step around the room. He could feel her tension from behind and smiled to himself. He was still in control. Absolute control. And that kept him on the top of the whole situation. So far.
"TWO HOURS!?!" she bellowed and swore in Klingon for a few seconds. "That is the BEST you could do?!?" She fumed and slumped into a large chair, muttering something in her native tongue.
"I can always see what I can do to speed up the process." Crom lied blatantly. "I am sure I could get it a little sooner."
Av'on seemed relieved by that. "And the third? My desk?"
"Well," Crom looked at Curot. He rolled out the transport mat and connected the Accentuator. "Ready."
"Do it." Crom said flatly and watched as Captain Bhrode's desk shimmered into view with the other Accentuator attatched to the top. He walked over and unattached the Accentuator mere moments before the two Klingon males picked the desk up and shuffled it out of the room quickly. Curot rolled up the mat and Crom turned back to the smiling klingon female.
"I must admit," Av'on began. "I am impressed with the speed at which you were able to aquire these. You make a good thief." She nodded a mock of respect towards Crom. "However, I seem to recall demanding FOUR items?" she grabbed Crom by the ear and he shrieked in pain. "Where is the Head, ferengi?" She grasped him around the neck, gently for a klingon, and glared into his eyes.
"Oh..." he managed to gargle out. "You...eh...were SERIOUS about... that..."
"I am always serious, thief." She glared at Curot who was shaking like a leaf in the wind. She let Crom go and looked down at him. "The Head. Go."
She stalked out of the room in the same direction as her men had. One of the males came back in and 'escorted' the two Ferengi out of the house and tossed them into the street.
Curot was the first to his feet, and was already complaining. "Crom," he said. "Now what do we do? We can't exactly kill a klingon! Certainly not me! I doubt you could either!"
Crom sat on the dirt for a moment and thought about their plight. Curot was right. A child Klingon could probably tear the two of them asunder. Besides, why dirty your own hands with a terrible task like that. There had to be a diplomatic way. A way that he could negotiate for it. It dawned on him like the brightest latinum in the universe.
"A hired Assasin. There has to be someone in this forsaken city who's greed outweighs their honor. Money or promises of power are all we would need." He stood sudenly, nearly toppling Curot. "Curot! I need all the latinum you currently have on you!"
Curot nodded and sighed. "Well, as long as it will get us out of this mess, and I hope you are throwing in too, you cheap worm!"
"Don't worry Curot." Crom coddled. "I'ts a small price to pay for practically starting a war between two Klingon houses."
Fixing his uniform before a mirror Saladin knew his father would be there, and this hearing must be important for him to be summoned like that.
Seeing his father would be a mixed blessing, it was obviously something on his mind, a commander of a Nietzchean ship of the line does not summon his son for tea and biscuts.
"Inform the officer of the deck that I am out for the NDV Rights of Man."
"Yes sir."
It was amazing how much it looked like a giant shark, sleek, lines cut against the glass of the station. The image was powerful, a ship of the line of the Nietzchean alliance was always powerful, at the gate was a guard, one visible but there was always backup not visible.
He approached and the guard never wavered, "business on board?"
"I have a meeting with your commander Charlamagne Bolivar."
The guard examined him like he was a small animal under glass. In the end the door opened and he walked in to the hallway, a clean well lit area. It was tradition and it served two purposes, one to look good and a second one to make sure no one is hiding to stab you in the back.
OUtside the captain's quarters was a second set of guards, again tradition, things were more civilized these days.
However tradition was not to be ignored at our peril. Something that had been hammered in to him as a child, and he waited as he was cleared for entrance.
Stepping in, he looked around and remebered this quarters from when he was a child. WHen ever his father was home he would visit the ship.
Walking in to the antechamber, he saw his father, greyer then he remebered, not as strong, more frail. "Father. I am here."
OOC: I have been planning this post for some time now, and had originally intended to work on it jointly with Liam and Olga.
In light of present events, I decided that it would make a suitable tribute to Lysander. It is meant to be light hearted. Thanks Liam for things that never quite came to be. Its been a blast.
"N. . .no. . no. . .not this." the soft sleeping face of REbecca von ERnst protested against the dreams that were once again assailing her.
"G. ..g.way. . ..leav me alone.. . "
Every night since the affair with the Deifiant, the young Commander ahd been plagued with nightmares about her future, and that of those around her.
"No. . .no" She struggled in her sleep, tossing twisted sheets aside, and getting tangled in her own midnight blue pajamas.
TOnight however was different. . . . .
Just as she was crying out against the possibility of a horrible violent future, the dream suddenly changed.
Visions of burning Starships faded away to be replaced with that of oddly soothing music, and afternoons sipping sweet Peppermint Milkshakes.
"Mmmmm.. . .giggle. . . .hee hee"
Her worried tossing and turning calmed into a deeper sleep, and her frowning lips turned up at the corners into a simple smile.
". . . .Love. . .it happened so fast"
Maybe it was not a vision of things to come. . . . .maybe it was a vision of the way things ought to have been. . . . .
". . .giggle. . . .oh you. . .shape up. . .yes. . .hee hee."
Lets step closer and into the dreamlland of a simple girl, and see what she sees.. . . . . .
Liam. . .this is for Lysander. ;)
“I find your solution insufficient Mr. Munro,” Rebecca said coldly from he r little perch atop the Bridge’s central command chair. “You have failed to take into consideration the recent revelations in the Streely Law of Inverse Vectors Dynamics, as applied to Klingon Tactical Philosophy.”
“Aye Ma’am” came the hurt reply.
“In addition, your maneuvering to present a fresh shield face, while perhaps saving lives of your crewmates, caused an needless delay in resolution of the exercise and prohibited your form following up on potential advantages.”
“Aye Ma’am.”
The mood on the Galaxy bridge was somber. Temporarily staffed with a skeleton crew of jr officers and raw recruits, those present had expected nothing more than a few boring hours of watching lanjep roll by underneath them while the rest of the crew was off on shore leave.
Unfortunately, the ship’s XO, von Ernst, had apparently cut her own leave short and deigned to run the short-staffed bridge through a never-ending series of tactical drills of impossible odds.
“Very well Mr. Munro,” Rebecca sighed in disappointment. “I realize you are limited in your abilities, but try not to let your sensibilities get in the way of at least pretending like you know what you’re doing.”
The Crew of the Galaxy was used to having a low morale. They were used to violent, and unfair treatment at the hands of their chronically grumpy Captain, John Brhode, but in many ways, the quiet, icy remarks of their mysterious XO were as equally bad.
Where Brhode screamed, von Ernst whispered. Where he beat you senseless with the weight of his words, her sharp comments seemed to slice straight to the core, devastating confidence and self-image.
It was no surprise that the most popular Command officer was the perpetually cheerful and sometimes goofy, Commander Hawksley. His bridge shifts were the most popular assignments aboard ship, and crewmen actively jostled to be assigned to his watch.
“Re-set Combat simulation please Mr Munro,” Rebecca ordered smoothly, “Simulate major structural damage to Engineering hull, and set adversaries as trio of Vor’cha class Klingon Cruisers approaching from polar orbital plane. . . . . .”
The rest of the statement was cut off as the aft turbolift swung open, and a swearing security officer dashed out and ran across the bridge.
The bridge crew was startled to say the least, but for the most part remembered their training and did not panic.
Idly, Rebecca’s photographic memory supplied her with the ID of the guard from the crew roster files she memorized. . . . . ~~~Lt j.g. Walter Marsh. . . . .from Earth~~~ she thought curiously.
As Marsh reached the locked door to Brhode’s office, a small beep drew the attention of Ensign Ocana.
“Internal Security Alert Commander,” the novice Ops officer gasped. .” It looks to have been triggered by a Watch Station on Deck 38!”
The doors to Brhode’s office hissed open and Marsh leapt inside tucking himself into a roll with his phaser ready. . . . “LIGHTS!” he bellowed, “HANDS DOWN ON YOUR HEAD…”
The emotionless little redhead in the center of the bridge merely raised an eyebrow. “Initiate bridge and engineering level lockdown procedures, Ms. Ocana. Full internal sensor sweep.” Her own hand howered over the secret compartment in her Command chair that concealed a tiny hold out phaser. . . . .if necessary.
There was a flurry of soft bleeping as the Ops officer tapped at her LCARS. Security was not her specialty, but unfortunately the Tactical station was currently vacant due to the mass shore leaves.
Due to the fact that the bridge and Engineering sections of a starship were two of the most vital sections aboard, a standard lockdown procedure was initiated during alerts to prevent any unauthorized access. Independently powered anti-transporter shields snapped into place, and triple-thickness duranium plates slid down over exposed hatches turning the rooms into self contained vaults more secure than Fort Knox of old.
Starfleet didn’t allow easy access to weapons powerful enough to obliterate entire planets.
While she was working, the eager security Guard was heard to mutter to himself and slowly strode back out of the office.
“Lockdown complete Commander.” Ocana announced at length. ”Bridge and Engineering Secure.”
“Too late.” Marsh sighed with a small shrug. “The Captain isnt going to like this. . . . .but his desk is gone.”
Even the Ice Bitch had to raise an eyebrow at that one. “Indeed? Yellow Alert Mr. Marsh. Security search all decks. Ms. Ocana, extend Lockdown procedures to entire ship, and cut off power to all transporters and shuttle bays. Raise minimal shields to prevent beaming.” Sh turned to another nervous recruit, “Mr. Palmer, hail the Klingon docking contraol and inform them of our actions. We don’t want them to wonder why our shields are going up.”
“Aye Ma’am.”
Turning back to the viewscreen which still showed holographic Attack cruisers from the Tactical exercise, Rebecca wiped it clean and called up a new display.
“Computer, Recognize von Ernst, Commander Rebecca Catherine.” She said.
=/\=RECOGNIZED=/\=
“Display on main viewer, Bridge Flight Recorder.Focus on Captain’s Ready Room. Time index Present minus five minutes.”
=/\=WORKING=/\=
The screen darkened momentarily before displaying an image of the Ready Room. The image was full of shadows due to the fact the lights were off in the office, but it they could easily see that the furniture in question was still in place.
The little time counter in the corner of the display rolled forward quickly and soon the unmistakable sparkle of a transporter beam lit up the otherwise dark office.
“Two figures.” Marsh mused to himself as they watched.
The little hunched over figures scurried about the room chittering to themselves in soft voices, before approaching the desk and affixing a small device too it.
“Some sort of transporter beacon.” Ensign Ocana surmised, before Rebecca shushed her.
At length the figures and the desk all vanished ina puff of light leaving the office empty until a little holographic Marsh rolled inside not 30 seconds later.
“LIGHTS. . . . .HANDS ON YOUR. . .”
“Freeze playback.” Rebecca interrupted Marsh’s moment of glory, “Replay Time index 02:34:45. Enhance upper left of display.
The image danced backwards for a few seconds, and once again the two scurrying intruders were the center of attention..
“Enhance further.”
The image was still shadowy, but the zoomed in view suddenly focussed on the faces of the two intruders.
There was a collective gasp on the bridge.
“Good Lord . . . . “swore Munro, “Its. . .its. . . “
“It’s a computer glitch.” Grated Rebecca through clenched teeth. “I thought this was fixed.”
Apparently not. . . . for on the view screen the two thieves were revealed to be. . . .DR. Jebediah Quick. Both of them.
Rebecca sighed. “Unless the Doctor has an evil twin, I think we have yet another manifestation of the Quick Virus here. Computer. . . .identify persons entering Ready Room via illicit transporter?”
=/\=INTRUDERS ARE DR. JEBEDIAH QUICK, AND HIS ACCOMPLICE DR. JEBEDIAH QUICK=/\=
“Noodles.”
=/\=
OOC: Attention anybody aboard. . . .have fun with the full security alert. ;) Transporters and shuttles are temporarily down.
One would think that with five centuries - eleven lifetimes worth - of experiences crammed into one's skull, a body would have figured out ways around being bored.
Particularly on long shuttle flights to a new assignment.
This, however, was not the case.
Lieutenant Junior Grade Corran Rex was absentmindedly bouncing a stylus against his PADD, staring out the stars through the Runabout Graymalkin's rear viewport. They were streaking by and behind, as stars are wont to do when one is traveling in excess of the speed of light.
That was even more boring than the PADD in his hand. He'd reconfigured the diagnostic-based PADD to display a number of simplistic video games, but the challenge there had been programming the games, not actually playing them. The joined Trill dropped the PADD next to his gear, and eyed the other passengers heading for the USS Galaxy, in orbit of the Klingon resort planet, lanjep.
A Klingon resort planet? Now there's a concept worth looking into, one of the voices - or was it ghosts? hard to tell really - in Corran's head mused.
Be quiet, Vorrin, Corran strictly ordered the voice. I've got enough on my mind with out having to deal with your philandering ass.
Yeah, yeah, kid. Whatever you say. You're the host now, so that makes you boss, right? the voice of the grouchy old man replied.
Briefly, he remembered what had happened on the Kelvin, when Doctor Alani had said that he wasn't really talking to the past hosts of Rex, that Corran was merely having an internal monologue, whereas his subconscious was manifesting personality traits based on the memories of the Rex symbiont.
Doctor Esanza Rex, the diminutive eighth host of Rex, has promptly become the dominant personality, and proceeded to lecture the Starfleet doctor on the ins and outs of Trex's Syndrome.
Doctor Alani had not been amused, even if Corran had found the whole situation tremendously amusing.
Sighing, Corran picked up the PADD. Maybe he could configure the PADD to function as a remote for the runabout. That was an idea that had some potential......
"If we play this right, Curot, this won't cost us a thing. A Klingon Head will be easier to procure than that forsaken bloodwine!" Crom spat as he remembered a few nights Entertaining the Klingon shopkeepers on the Galaxy. Bloodwine made his head swim. He fumbled withthe clasp on his beetlesnuff container.
"What do you want me to do?"
"All you need to do is shut up, look devious and convincing. Let me do the talking and we may live through this ordeal yet. This Klingon resort is more like.....like....." Crom looked over at Curot who was staring blankly back. Crom sighed. "Nevermind." They strolled down the lan'Jepi streets looking for the right 'Associate' to begin negotiations with. Crom was sure he could will his way with one of the Houses. He needed the Head of the Head of the House of Du'Pont, and he needed it today.
"This better be worth it." Curot mumbled.
"Of Course it's worth it! The Nagus is doing business here, it HAS to be worth it!" Crom berated Curot without much success. "Did you sell the Transport Mat?"
"No not yet. It could come in useful again, you never know."
Crom looked apprecietically at Curot. "That's the first smart thing you've done all day!" He smiled a toothy grin. "Well Done." Curot smiled.
Up the road a ways, a ruckus broke out as a dozen well armed Klingon men strode up the street reeking of Victory and blood. Crom heared someone mutter in Klingon "Ah, the House of Ma'Buut destroyed the House of Ur Dah'Mahn in battle. HURRAH! HURRAH FOR MA'BUUT!"
The Klingons strode past giving the old man who called to them a nod. The apparent leader, a Klingon of no less than 7 and a half feet tall glared down at the two Ferengi in his shadow briefly before returning to the party with his House.
"Now THATS the House we will engotiate with! Did you see the SIZE of that monster!?!" Crom was getting excited." He turned to Curot. "I need you to trail them and find out where the House of Ma'Buut is. Don't screw this one up! This is beyond important!"
"I can be VERY sneaky...."
"This I am aware of. Now get!" Crom pushed Curot in the back, and the Ferengi Arms dealer scurried off down the street.
Crom smiled at the back of his counterpart disappearing into the crowd. with a flick of his thumb, he popped open his beetlesnuff container and too kout a large pinch. He cranked it back with a rock of his head and walked over to a Klingon cafe to have a Raktijino and wait.
Raktijino. Bah. Sure wasn't Slugjuice....
******
******
Curot came walking back to where he had left Crom, who was still sipping on some drink. "Crom," He said to get his attention, which it did. "You have GOT to see their house! there are skulls everywhere, it looks perfect!" He grabbed Crom by the hand and stood him up. "Come on, they are just getting into a large party. It would be an ideal time to make an appearance."
"You're right. Let's get going." Crom tossed his glass over his left shoulder and strolled off down the street in the direction of the House of Du'Pont.
******
******
The two ferengi snooped around an embankment at the back of the compound of the House of Du'Pont trying to hide in the shrubberies. As Curot had said, Skulls adorned most of the circumferance of the compound ,and standing in the middle surrounding an extremely large barrel of Bloodwine, were the Warriors the ferengi had seen before. The monster of a klingon stood leaning against the barrel, dipping his cup deeply.
"Something is wrong." Crom mentionned under his breath.
"What do you mean?" Curot replied.
"Weren't there twelve in the procession on the street?" Crom leaned on his elbows to get a better look.
"Uh..." Curot stated. "Yeah, there were twelve."
"Well, there are only nine in that party right now." Crom counted again, just to be sure. He was right, there were nine.
"Well, where..." Curot never finished the sentance as the two ferengi were lifted four feet off the ground and carried head long through the underbrush, branched and twigs getting jammed into their lobes and faces. Something was carrying them by the backs of their necks.
They came out of the brush into the clearing at the back of the House of Du'Pont, being carried by a very, very wide klingon. He came directly over to the party of klingons and dropped the two ferengi into the middle of a circle.
+Look what I found spending time with the razorworms+ the klingon who dropped them said in his native tongue.
"Curot," Crom stated coldly. "We are in BIG trouble."
Crom and Curot were kneeling in front of the entire Du'Pont Household, quivering in mortal terror at their error.
"CUROT you IDIOT!" Crom hissed in Ferengi. "These are NOT the same Klingons!" Crom turned instantly to who he hoped was the Head of the Household. An old, greying Klingon missing his left hand. Crom's mind swam with panic, fear and a handful of languages. He glanced back at Curot, who was wringing his hands and smirking slyly at the Head of Du'Pont.
The sound of blades being drawn nearby made Crom's heart skip a few beats. A bead of sweat glistened as it rolled down his head and face before dripping to the ground below. The moment lasted an eternity.
"What in the name of the Latinum Angel are you DOING!?!?!" Crom shrieked in English in a panicked hysteria at Curot. The klingons began to smile as they realized the new toys they posessed. Crom span around on his heel and was face-to-chest with a giant klingon warrior, the one he mistook for the monster he saw in the streets. Crom backed off in terror and bumped into another Klingon.
Visions of beetles descending from the skies filled his mind as the beetlesnuff played with his brain. He felt things crawling on his legs and tried to swat whatever it was away. The klingons began speaking amongst themselves as it all meshed together in a massive murmer of noise. Sweat poured off of Crom as if he were draining all of the liquid in his body. His clothed were soaked and klingons were everywhere. It was madness.
Suddenly, everything was klingon. His clothes, his own thoughts, every sound he heard seemed to have a klingon ring to it. He spoke. He couldn't understand a word of what he said, all it was was a jumble of klingon blabber in Crom's perception. He couldn't even comprehend the words in his mind. His mind felt as though it were up in the skies, looking down in a spiral at the ground. The wind rippled by and shimmered through his vision, blurring the images he saw. The Nagus.....the Nagus was clsoe....He could almost hear him now. Crom...... Crom..... CROM........
"CROM!!!!!" Zek screeched into Crom's face. "GET AHOLD OF YOURSELF, BOY!!!" Suddenly, he was being shaken by someone huge, then violently tossed on the floor. Faintly he could hear Zek and Curot talking, there was another voice too.
"I honestly don't know what is wrong with him!" Zek said bluntly.
"He had some weird drink when i found him last...." Curot said in a hushed tone.
"I just want to know WHY he is here!" The third voice demanded.
"I can explain EVERYTHING, don't worry!!! It is all so very simple..." Crom's eyes fluttered open, staring up at the ceiling. He sat bolt upright, and felt his brain lag a foot behind his head. A wave of nausea came, but Crom held back, barely. "Oh, look....He's awake..." Zek sounded thrilled.
"Nagus!" Crom yelled out, evidently making his head ache worse.
"You know I gave that up years ago now...." Zek shook his finger at Crom. Maihar'du, Zek's servant handed Crom a large glass of slug juice. "Drink up!" Zek smiled. "Freshly squeezed!"
Crom tossed the drink back in a gulp and felt a little better. The old klingon from before loomed into view. "WHAT were you doing skulking around my House like some Romulan dog?" Crom was totally confused.
"I told you I could explain that!" Zek cut in. "You see, I needed a certain Household to look the other way while we conducted business here, Arg'Lo. So I sent them to deal with the House of K'Alling as My Official Representatives, that way everyone is looking at the House of K'Alling instead of You! Brilliant!"
"You......what?!" Crom managed to stutter.
"I sent you, my boy" Zek coddled, "To do whatever Av'on K'Alling wanted you to do, just so no one would be watching ME come here. And you and Curot did SO well, Crom!"
The genius of the plan unfolded in front of Crom like it was a simple game.
"All fine and well," Arg'Lo said. "Get them out of here. Now." And before Crom could blink twice, He and Curot had been shuffled outside of the side door to the House of Du'Pont.
"It was all pointless distraction." Crom said blankly. "I feel so... USED...."
****
Victor sighed inwardly, trying not to think about the potential consequences of what was about to happen. ~ I suppose it was inevitable. I'm just surprised that it took this long. ~
"He has a very nice set of buttocks, doesn't he?"
"Oh yes," Rexa nodded to her sister. "Much better than when he was on tour - those outfits he wore then just didn't do anything for him at all." She looked accusingly at Victor. "You never told us..."
"...that *he* was part of the Galaxy's crew," Ar'resh frowned from his other side. "You know we have all his albums - even that bootleg holo of the nude performance from the Rigellian teahouse the Ferengi promoter made without telling him."
"He's really much better looking in person, too." Rexa glanced at him again. "He must be working out more, he's lost that little roll of..."
Rexa, please! "He's my Department Head," Victor protested, knowing it was a doomed effort. "Could you not talk about him like he was a side of meat? Please?"
His aunt blinked, and then continued blithely, "You have to introduce us, Heinrich. I've wanted to..."
~ Don't say it! Do not say it! ~
"...meet him for years," Ar'resh sighed. "He's such a good musician."
~ Thank God, I thought she was going to say... ~
"He has such a reputation with the ladies, too," Rexa added. "Of course, after that illicit Ferengi holo recording, I can see..."
"...why those stories got started. He is a fine figure of a man," Ar'resh grinned predatorily. "You will introduce us, won't you, Heinrich?"
Victor closed his eyes and sighed. "I'm not certain that's a good idea..."
"Nonsense, he's not married, is he?"
"No, Rexa, he isn't." ~ But if I didn't think you'd check, I'd say he was to save him. ~
"Then what's the problem?" She leaned in. "He doesn't like..."
"...Men that way, does he?" Ar'resh finished in his other ear. "I'd be so ..."
"...disappointed if all those stories were some sort of publicity thing." Rexa looked over the balcony rail again. "Such a waste," she sighed.
Victor considered the idea of confirming his aunt's suspicions for a moment, then reluctantly discarded it. ~ Corgan has enough problems without *that* rumor getting started. ~ "No," he sighed. "To the best of my knowledge he's not wired up that way."
"Then why are we standing here?" Ar'resh said, brightening. "Introduce us!" She tugged on Victor's arm, towing him towards the stairs.
Victor eyed the fall fro the balcony as they started to pull him away. ~ No. I might not die. ~ "all right ladies," he admitted defeat. "I'll introduce you." ~ I hope God's looking out for you, sir, because I don't seem to be on his list today... ~
****
The James L. Corgan that wasn't shown on all the illegal holofilms was not the famous, dashing young rogue that he used to be. In fact, he was older than he was when his 'side project' at the academy turned into the beginnings of the resurrection of rock and roll in the 24th century.
For one thing, instead of wearing lots of tight leather and face shrouding garb, he was a somewhat handsome young man in his late 20's. The glasses on his face and the scar that went from his forehead to his cheek (intersecting the eye) was the only mar in his features, and it only served to give him a more 'distinguished' look.
The skinny youth angrily playing riffs on an archaic Terran instrument known as the guitar was replaced by a lean muscled, hawk-like, well trained security officer. Years of conflict curbed his rebellious nature, turning him into an alert, fatalistic machine that Starfleet could mould.
But one thing was for sure. He did have a better butt than in his youth, now that he was subjected to the Starfleet Marine 'work out or die' regiment. It was quite apparent in the Mok'bara uniform he wore, after stepping out of the complimentary marital arts class. Toweling off his sweaty forehead with a towel, he then went to the replicator and ordered some water.
"Frag... that hit the spot." James sighed contently, chugging down an entire bottle, and then ordering another. Mok'bara claimed to cleanse the spirit. If total exhaustion and the release of endorphins and adrenaline after working his frustrations over the captain out on a sparring dummy were releasing the spirit, then he considered it a great release.
His shoulder felt a tap. Was it his muscles knotting up? Nonesense, it couldn't be. He didn't work out enough. But when he turned around, it was anything but the protesting twitch of a muscle spasm.
It was two relatively attractive Andorian females... and his subordinate, Lieutenant Krieghoff.
"Lieutenant..." James eyed the ladies and his trusted officer, "Why... great to see you." James blinked twice. Two ladies? He never took his subordinate as a ladies' man. In fact, the women of the Galaxy were deathly afraid of him. He looked at the bizarre Andorians, wondering what possessed them to pick Victor, "Ladies, I hope I'm not interrupting anything."
"Actually we're doing the interrupting," Victor started, a look of resignation - and, oddly, apology - in his eyes. "There are my aunts, Rexa and Ar'resh Idrani..."
"Idrani-Krieghoff," the shorter of the two, Ar'resh, prompted from her position holding Victor's arm. "We took..."
"...the Krieghoff name a few years back," the taller, Rexa, continued seamlessly. "But Heinrich always forgets." She tousled Victor's hair with casual familiarity.
Looking like he was struggling to restrain a blush of embarrassment, Victor continued, "They're big fans of your music and insisted that I introduce them. Rexa, Ar'resh, this is Lt. Commander Corgan, my boss - and the star of those holos you've worn out." After speaking, he mouthed silently, hoping to spare James a problem, "The Ferengi ones."
Confused and bewildered, James tried to respond to the overwhelming presence of the Andorians. ~"Ferengi ones?"~ He kept thinking one thing...
(Truthfully, James didn't know about the lucrative holofilm piracy trade. Though he knew of it, he didn't know the culture behind it. He also didn't know that his decently tone physique, one he tried to hide to look inconspicuous, was there for every alien to see. For more info, see the holofilm music video 'Hentai Burn', based off the 'Anime' version of the 'Burn' music video.)
... but his mouth said another, "Well... thank you. I'm glad to see there are still fans... even after the band broke up."
"We're so pleased to meet you!" Ar'resh started, reaching for James' hand to shake it. "We've been fans of yours for years. And we're even happier..."
Victor's attempts to restrain a blush failed as she spoke.
"Mwa?" James, however, wasn't as well practiced as Victor. His cheeks were extremely red. A drop of sweat materialized on the side of his forehead. The next question hit hard and fast. Kind of like the Mongol hordes... except the Mongols lacked shock value.
"...to hear that you're not married," Rexa continued. "Tell me, are you seeing anyone at the moment, or are you free?"
He was at a loss of words. The two adoring Andorians had him trapped, surrounded, and cornered with no way of escape. There was only one person that could save him from the mess he found himself in.
~"REASON?!?!"~ Corgan cried for help.
For a moment, there was nothing. But then, as if from thin air (how true), Reason basked lazily under the lanJepi sun, a two piece swim suit hugging her voluptuous body. Her com badge was still pinned to the top of the suit. Her strawberry blonde hair was blundled up in a teasing ponytail, while the top of her head was covered by a wide brimmed straw hat. When she heard Corgan's distress call, a foxlike grin split across her freckled face.
"YO JAMES! I was wondering when you would call!" Reason waved excitedly, sloshing around a Sereppian Starduster in her one hand as the other frantically signaled.
~"No time. I have two seconds to..."~
"No, I'm not married or dating at this time." He blurted out the truth.
"Ohhhhh dear god." Reason slapped herself on the forehead, "You shouldn't have done that. Next time you want to pull me away from a well oiled Klingon shield maiden, don't f**k up the situation before I get there."
~"F**K!"~ He berated, ~"Note to self... find a way to delay..."~
"Really?" The taller Andorian's smile grew suddenly predatory. "How... delightful." She glanced at Ar'resh. "So..." she examined him with an intensity that rivaled that of the worst command inspections. "What were your plans for..."
"...later tonight?" the shorter one continued without a discernable pause. "It seems like I already know you, I've seen your holos so many times. I'd love to see if I'm..."
"...right," Rexa finished with an appreciative glance at James' exposed chest where he'd pulled the practice uniform open to cool off. "I'm sure Heinrich wouldn't mind if we left him alone for a while - he could use the time to find that lovely girl from Engineering..."
~ Oh no. ~ Victor's stomach sank.
"...we met earlier and see if she was interested in a night making love on the beach with him," Ar'resh smiled, patting Victor on the arm. "Our Heinrich is so shy; he just won't do anything unless pushed into it."
Suppressing a giggle, James' newest figment of his imagination looked the Andorians down and up. She wagged her finger and shook her head, commenting, "Straightforward, aren't they?"
~"You can say that again. Reason! Get me out of here!"~ James panicked.
His face crimson, Victor coughed, and his eyes cut from side to side as if seeking an escape route. ~ I can't let them do this to Corgan - I'll never be able to look him in the eye again! ~ "Ahhh..."
"Ummmm... ladies?" Corgan peeped nervously, "As much as I would love to spend some time with you all, I don't think now would be the proper time to... I mean... we just meet... and fixing up Victor may be a problem..."
"I'm sure you never have that sort of problem," Ar'resh continued on with a smile, as if Victor had never started to speak. "Maybe you could give him some advice? It's been so long since he had..."
Victor's looks grew more frantic and he actually started to take a step backwards, but the two women refused to relinquish their hold on him
"...a lover that we're really worried about him," Rexa carried on the explanation. "It's been over a year since that poor Bajoran girl, and she was just... well..."
Corgan took a step back to avoid the Andorian's clutching claws, "Wait a second... Bajoran girl? How long? Ladies... that's none of my..."
Victor's eyes closed and he tensed up, like he was waiting for a bullet.
"...all wrong for him," Ar'resh nodded. "She was intimidated and frightened by him when they made love." She shook her head. "Can you imagine? Our Heinrich? Why he's the gentlest boy we've ever known. He'd never hurt anyone..."
"...unless they deserved it," Rexa concurred. "He's so shy and quiet. He just needs a good role model to help him be more assertive and find a lover that will appreciate him." She smiled. "Maybe we could talk about you helping him out tonight? Say..."
"...over dinner? There's this lovely little open-air club where they play Andorian Blues down by the ocean," Ar'resh suggested. "It's not as good as *your* music of course, but..." her voiced dipped huskily, "it's perfect for making music of our own...."
Catching the suggestion (he wasn't that naive!), James backed another step. Reason tsked at the two women, walked over to James, and patted him sympathetically on the shoulder. "James... swallow your pride. Have a little fun with the ladies. I mean, it's the 24th century, for crying out loud! Besides... I can tell that you wouldn't mind a little... female company."
~"I think I should back away... slowly... then I should bolt to the nearest transporter pad and demand they beam me to the Galaxy before those two catch me."~ James suggested.
"Actually... that's my second idea. A night with these women and they'll already consider you married to them." Reason grinned.
"Alright then! Let's..."
James' slip of the tongue was too late to stop. He closed his mouth, looked down at his mouth in shock, and kept quiet.
Reason shook her head in shame. "Sorry, pally boy. You're on your own." A second later, Reason disappeared, and two Andorians had James by his wrists.
Victor, seeing a familiar hunted look in Corgan's eyes, stepped forward. "Rexa, Ar'resh, shame on you," he chastised, wishing his face had faded more. "The Commander just got out of a class - he needs to shower and freshen up if you want him at his best." He looked back and forth between the two. "You *do* want him at his best, don't you?"
The Andorians exchanged glances. "Well, of course we do..."
"...Heinrich, dear," Ar'resh smiled. "You're such a thoughtful boy." She leaned over and pressed her cheek to his shoulder - releasing James' hand as she did so. "We want to be at our best too."
"Yes..." Like a hostage, James spoke blankly, "Yes. Shower. I need a shower."
Rexa nodded, releasing James' other hand with a gently squeeze. "You will excuse me, won't you?" she asked Corgan. "I just got carried away at finally meeting you." She smiled, "Shall we say seven then? At the stairs down to the beachfront?"
"Ummm..." Despite a million years of human instinct, and all the gut feelings ringing red alert simultaneously, James didn't have the testicular fortitude to turn the two Andorians down. Besides that, security had to stick together, and he didn't like the idea of Victor being left alone with his 'Aunts'.
"Seven it is. Moka'cha Cafe, at this resort." He announced, while thinking, ~"What have I done?"~
"Oh good." Ar'resh favored James with a smile that made the sort of promises men killed for. "I'll be..."
"...looking forward for it the rest of the day." Rexa's smile echoed her sister's, making it plain they came as a matched set.
~"Ohhhh... sh*t. Better ask the doc about that 'interspecies relationship thing'. I'm not getting out of this one!"~ James dreaded.
~ They're going to eat him alive if I don't do something to save him. ~ Victor waited for his aunts to move away from Corgan, not speaking until Ar'resh leaned against him one more. "It's actually good that we ran into him, since there's a problem with one of the people in the department that I need to talk to the Commander about. Why don't you two go on and finish shopping and I'll catch up to you later?"
"Why YES!" James piped up, "I too have business to attend to... with Victor..." He glanced from side to side warily, "Right now... at this resort... right here..."
Rexa looked at her sister. "Well, since you have a work issue to talk about... There was a dress I wanted to go back and..."
"...look at." Ar'resh nodded. "Maybe we could go see about it." She looked up at Victor. "You'll be all right, Heinrich?"
"I'll be fine. Go on, you'll get more done without me tagging along."
"Will..." Ar'resh hesitated, then turned to James. "You'll make sure that..."
"...our Heinrich gets back to the resort without any problems?" Rexa tousled Victor's hair affectionately. "We worry about him so."
"Uhhhhmmmmm... that's my job!" James made a mock salute, "To serve and protect and whatnot. Hehehehehe.... *oh god...*."
"Then we'll see you at seven," Rexa agreed, smiling at James.
"Be sure and call that nice Ella Grey, Heinrich," Ar'resh prodded Victor with a finger before she turned to go. "I know she'd like to hear from you again."
The sisters both waved once more, walked a few steps and simultaneously looked back over their shoulders at James with smoldering eyes, smiled again, and moved up the stairs.
Victor watched them go, turned, and sighed. "I'm sorry, sir. I tried to divert them, but after they saw you in that Mok'bara class there was no stopping them."
"I can tell." James grumbled sarcastically, "A word with you? Real quick?"
"Of course, sir - and I *am* sorry." Victor fell into step beside Corgan. "They're a lot like a Solitron Wave - once they start moving the only defense is to not be in their path."
The two men strolled into the public sonic showers. There, James produced a key from his pocket, and with it he unlocked one of the gym's lockers. He then pulled a duffel bag out of the locker, dug through it, and whipped out a white towel. He then made his way post haste towards the sonic shower stalls.
"Victor.... I'm worried to hell and back!" James stated. He locked the sonic shower stall and threw his workout shirt over the top, "Watch the door, will you? I have a feeling those two will... you know... but anyways! I hope I'm doing the right thing, humoring those two. I haven't been on a real date in over two years, much less one where I was coerced."
"You sort of get used to it around them," Victor sighed. "They've been like that as long as I've known them." He glanced up as the door opened, a Klingon entering and moving to another set of lockers. "Remind me later, there may be some tips I can give you that'll help. They're..." he shrugged, "they're who they are."
"Ok... but don't tell them I'm a briefs guys. They'll go nuts. Let's move on, shall we?" James then removed his pants and underwear, flinging them over the side of the wall, "You wanted to talk to me about someone, correct? I bet I can already guess who." But before Victor could say, James interrupted, "I know that you've had some difficulty adjusting to the security department on the Galaxy. Or more specifically, security has had a hard time adjusting to you. Especially your unit leader, Lieutenant O'Rourke. She quotes you as a 'brash, reckless, ruthless, morbid and overall unstable officer who would be better suited for a mercenary unit than a career at Starfleet.' Sounds like her, doesn't it?"
"Yes." Victor smiled thinly. "Not without reason, I suppose. Even before the Defiant." He shrugged. "I didn't read her report on what happened, but everything I know about was in mine. There's plenty there to justify her opinion." ~ He's going to transfer me. That's what this is about. ~
Victor met James' eyes squarely. ~ I don't want to go. The Galaxy is... home. ~ Unaccountably, a montage of faces ran thought his head: Corgan's, Gunny Goldstein's, So'ka's, Hanley's, Ella Grey's, Counselor Dallas' and even Dr. Quick's; and he was struck by the realization that he would feel lessened in their absence. ~ Why? Why is that? They're not my friends - I don't have any, not really. I just... talk to them, that's all. Just talk. ~
"I understand, sir," he heard himself say quietly. ~ Damned if I'll make a fuss over it, even if I want to stay. ~ "I can be packed and have a request for transfer on your desk in the morning." Inside him, something he didn't understand started to wither and die, losing what ground it had gained on the loneliness he carried with him.
"Victor... you have to stop interpreting everything as a signal to transfer." He jested, "Yeesh... no wonder you get around so often. Are you always letting some imagined shame get the better of you? Besides, I'm not finished. Her comment was from a report before the USS Defiant incident. Want to hear about the report afterwards?"
"Ten transfers in ten years?" Victor shrugged, disturbingly unemotional about the topic. "What am I supposed to think? That people *like* me?" He shook his head. "We both know that's not the truth, sir. Unlike whatever's in that report you're talking about. O'Rourke might hate me, but she'd never lie in a report, even if it meant getting me off the ship."
"Well... lets just say that it takes a stranger twist." James activated the sonic shower. The high pitched shrill pierced his ears. He winced as his ears vibrated and his skin was sandblasted with sonic waves. "After the Defiant incident, she commented on a... darker side. She seemed less angry and more afraid. I'm talking about a cold terror here, Victor. Normally... she's too damn stubborn to be affected by it, but the Defiant changed all that."
~ Afraid? ~ Victor replayed the scene of O'Rourke screaming and cowering away from him in the Observation Lounge of the Defiant in his head, the indistinct feeling of loss that accompanied each repetition less noticeable this time, as if it were fading with time. "She has reason to be afraid. They all do that were there with me."
"Now hold on a second more. The last interesting part was... there was a contradiction. Despite her opinion of you, she was thankful that you saved her. The details on the situation that brought this out were... sketchy, but then again, so was everything on that clusterf**k of a ship."
"I can tell you if you want." Victor didn't blink as he looked at James. "It's a repeat of what was in my report, though. I didn't leave anything out when I wrote it." ~ What would be the point? No one else would leave anything out. ~
James thoughtfully shrugged as the last of the grime was screamed off, "I read your report. Don't worry, you're clean. O'Rourke... she doesn't know what to think of you. Kind of like a two-sided slip of latinum. On the flat side, she thinks of you as a reliable, noble, and dedicated security officer. I mean, she wasn't blind to what you tried to do to save her, you know. But on the embroidered side, she saw you try to mentally abuse her on the Defiant too. She's having a hard time making a distinction between the two."
~ Because there isn't one. The only thing separating me from the version of me that thing portrayed is just a push at the right time. ~
Corgan collected his duffel back, and started dressing into his uniform, "Look, you better talk to her. I get the feeling that she... how can I say it? She... admires you, but she's scared of you too. A sort of a love/hate relationship, so to say. During the last couple of weeks, she's done nothing but give you a hard time, and you've been dishing it out in kind. After the Defiant, its been worse, especially on her end. You two have the potential to have a great working relationship... as long as you two can sort this sh*t out. You hear me? Straighten things out with O'Rourke and yourself. That's an order."
Victor nodded once, expressionlessly. "Aye-aye, sir, I hear you." ~ The nice thing about giving orders like that is that you don't have to make them work - just hand out the punishments when they don't. ~ "Fair warning sir. The last time I went to straighten someone out was you - and you remember how that worked out."
"Ohhh..." James recalled, a lump forming in his throat, "Eeeuugggg.... that's right. You're not a people person, I forgot. Hence all the delta shift patrols. It did work... but it won't work on everyone the same way. If you try what you did to me on O'Rourke, I will personally b*tchslap you, among other things. I'm serious."
He flicked on his glasses and activated the black tint, smiling to lighten up the mood. "A little advice for you, Victor. What you did to me was for special occasions. Don't try it on just anyone. You're not a soldier, you're a security officer, and being a security officer means you have to sometimes use those rusty interpersonal skills. And that means not trapping O'Rourke in a room and bawling her out until she phasers you to death. Be nice this time, you hear me?"
"I'll do my best, sir. Just remember that she's not like you - you're not one of the ones that tries to jump out the window when I walk in the room." Victor blinked once, changing the topic. "You're really going to go to dinner with them, aren't you?"
"With who? OH! THEM! Sh*t, they're serious?!" James panicked, the seriousness of the mood brought crashing down, "Well, what can I say? I made a promise, and I intend to keep my promises... whether it's a b*tchslapping for insubordination or dinner with two lovely women. By the way, you don't think I can worm my way out of it, do you?"
"No, sir, I don't."
"I thought so." James begrudgingly sighed, "They seem like the persistent type."
"It wouldn't have been so bad - even with them liking your music so much - if it weren't for that series of holos released two years ago. After those hit the market, there was nothing anyone could do."
"Wait... what holos?" James inquired, "The San Francisco Sessions? Deux Ex Machinations?"
Victor looked at him. "No, sir. The ones of you performing naked."
"Well... wait a second! I never did a holovid naked! What the hell are you talking about!?!" James sputtered.
"Yes, sir, naked. I think their favorite is one of a concert you gave in a Rigellian teahouse. Some Ferengi promoter has a whole series of them out now. I think they're all from the same tour, but different locations."
"Wait..." James face turned white, then a color impossible for a human to turn (though it may be green), "So... there's holos out there of me... naked? On the stage?"
Victor waited for James to wind down. "No, sir, not on stage - they're all in private clubs or venues of some sort. I gather you didn't know you were being recorded, sir?"
"Ohhh... god. Not only are my copyrights infringed..." James groaned, "But I primed your aunt's pumps, if you know what I mean. I'm never going to live this down..."
"Ah, then you didn't know. That would explain the thing with the waitress behind the potted plant then. I wondered"
"Say what? Victor, you better not be leading me on. What waitress?!?" James spat out.
"Blonde. Green eyes. Very attractive. Alpha Centauran from the way her hair was styled." He shrugged. "I can't say anything about the music, but you looked like you were enjoying yourself."
"I... what?" Now James' face was red, "They saw Lil'Jimmy come out to play? Oh.... my... god. Tell the aunts I'll be there for dinner, and don't mention this conversation with anyone. Please? I'm in enough sh*t for joyriding the ARGOS."
"I won't, sir- but you might consider locating that Ferengi and putting a halt to the distribution before someone aboard ship gets a copy."
"A halt will be the least of their worries." James grumbled, fantasizing a very visual instant where he pulled a Ferengi bootlegger's ears until they tore.
"I believe that you can get his name easily enough from them tonight." Victor paused, looking at James as his superior's face slowly returned to a more normal color. "I gather that you don't want to find yourself in the position of being my uncle, sir?"
"Well... no." James spoke frankly.
Victor nodded, his face expressionless. "Would you mind a few suggestions, then?"
"Dear god! It's been ages since I've dated. Anything!" James begged.
"I can't advise you on the dating part of things, sir, but Ar'resh works in Security; she's the Venture's security second. If you talk shop with her - especially investigation techniques - you should be able to keep her thoughts focused on that. Rexa's an MD, but she's fascinated by unarmed fighting styles. A good discussion of those would hold her attention as well." He paused. "And you might sing for them. A private concert would mean more to them than anything."
"Ummmm... I don't think singing would be such a good idea, Victor." James blushed, the thought of "Lil'Jimmy" on display making him seriously consider not doing music again, "But talk shop... why not? Just do me one favor."
"Yes, sir?"
"Keep them away from the booze. Please?"
"That shouldn't be a problem, sir. They're going to be dressed up for dinner, and they wouldn't want to drink heavily in that kind of environment. You should consider going formal, though - something non-uniform."
"Thanks." James threw the duffle bag over his shoulder, and stuttered, "I have to be going, and I want to go discretely. My final orders for the day are for you to intercept your aunts so that I can make a run for it. Tell them I have some security duties... I have to get ready for the date... second coming of the Dominion... anything! Whatever it takes. Oh, and Victor?"
Victor paused on the way to the door. "Yes, sir?'
"You better be there with them. And bring a date if you can."
"My being there shouldn't be a problem." Without addressing the second part of the request, he held up a hand and started for the door again. "Wait and let me check, sir."
Less than a minute later, he returned. "All clear, sir." As James passed him, Victor nodded. "Have a good afternoon, sir. I'll see you tonight."
The program was very beautiful as well as very religous, it was an Ancient Egypian style temple made of gold the same kind of temple where the families of the second and third houses of Betazed worships their gods and goddess.
In the middle of all the gold and ancient Betazoid writings on the wall was an holodgraph body of Rashid, his real body have already been sent to Betazed plus the body itself was dismember very badly after what Victor did to make himself look like Rashid.
Kay MacFarland was dress in an see threw Betazoid gown, it was also white for the color of her been an virgin where other women who work and live in the temple wear along with alittle crown on top that was made of gold. It was the young woman task to make sure Rashid's body was free from blood while it on display for the Betazoid wake.
An another room with her only daughter Karyn Shinta, the young widow Rose Isis MacAllen all dress in the same "Gone With the Wind" style dress while both Betazoids looked outside towards the beautiful waterfall thinking about what her future holds for her.
"I don't want to be here." Commander Corgan, garbed in an elaborate dress uniform, decorated with ribbons and medals from his experiences on the frontline, entered the holodeck a handsome, if forlorn image. His glasses, freshly polished lenses that gleamed in the light, saw the temple in its' lush, almost Romanesque setting, and the mourners that came alone to the cemetary. Rose MacAllen, still dressed like a southern belle, her face staring down at the stone floor, must have had more sadness than a widow could take. Not after what James had to do in sickbay. Counselor Dallas, a person he shyed away from ever since Lanjep (he questioned her qualifications to negotiate the trade treaty) must have been stung when her perceived failure seemed to agree with James' worries at the time.
Not a very comfortable situation. And worse yet, Little Karyn was in the middle, as sad as her mother.
~"Geez... what I wouldn't give to be out of this now..."~
Rose looked up at James with an happy look on her face, "James can we go for an walk together before we start?" the young woman said while Kay took little Karyn, then Rose walked towards the young man as both of the officers walked down the golden halls.
"Yes... lets." James agreed.
The young woman took the young man by the arm while both of the walked slowly down not talking much.
"So..." The chief of security looked idly at the tranquil setting, "This is a Betazoid wake? Peaceful... considering a human one involves a lot of heavy drinking and celebration."
"Don't worry I be the one doing the heavy drinking tonight after all of this crap I been though." the young woman said in an bitter voice as she wants to say how much in love with him.
James allowed the young woman to walk ahead, her features twisted in dispair and hurt. Giving the two of them a berth of a few meters, James then piped up assertively.
"Some drink to remember. Some drink to forget." He reasoned passionately, "The Eagles... Hotel California. A real famous song. But it does have some interesting insight. Rose, please. You better not be drinking to forget."
She looked at him with her dark eyes and also with an puzzle look on her face, "Why?"
"Seen it too many times, my friend." He answered gruffly, "Dominion War vets... they just want to drink to forget all the horror they suffered through. Some people get so upset that they... they just want to escape. And they'll do it by any means. Some drink. Some do drugs. Others escape into a holodeck where everything's all right. They do it all to forget all the sorrow that's been dumped on them. Rose... please, don't do it. You'll hurt yourself even worse."
"I have to forget James, don't you understand?"
"Rose? How do you try to forget? You know, about losing your love? In fact, why do you try to forget?"
She sighed and sat by the window looking out on to the sunset that forming over the hill, "That how I always did it. That how I forgot my two rapes, my loveless affairs, from the men I lost to other woman."
James placed his hand on her shoulder, in a firm grip. The woman's tragedy felt heartbreaking, and he felt powerless to help. "I don't know, Rose. It's too much to forget. I tried to forget the war. All the killing and violence. I can't just forget about all that. I still wake up screaming at nights, seeing my old comrades faces even though they are buried on some planet in the Cardassian Union. There's no way to forget, and if you try... it will get worse. I know."
He concluded, "But it has been a great source of strength. Not to forget, but to rebuild."
"How can I rebuild? Would you please help me with that?" the young woman begged James while looking into his eyes.
Thoughtfully, James replied with a warm smile. "Sure. I mean... you're going to need some help for awhile, especially with Little Karyn. And since I am a godfather, I should do something."
Then she got to be alittle sick, it was like she wanted to get sick all over the floor.
"Excuse my love!" Rose told him while running towards the nearest bathroom.
"Huh? What's going..." Before James could finish his sentence, Rose shoved him aside and ran straight out of the holodeck.
He tried to keep pace, amazed at how fast the woman could run when she needed to, and was stopped when she ran into the ladies lockerroom. He halted immediately, turning his back to the door and blushing profusely. ~"Geez... I almost stepped into a... what's going on?"~
"Hey Rose!" James yelled audibly enough to hear through the door, "You ok in there?"
After throwing up alittle the young woman yelled back while cleaning her face alittle, "Yes I'm fine love."
"Look.." His eyebrows knit with concern, "If you want, I can get a doctor. Sickbay will take better care of you than I can."
"No need James I think I know what going on, I did this before with Karyn." Rose told him with stepping out of the woman lockerroom.
"Oh..." James gasped (he wasn't that naive!), "You're... my god... you're... you're..."
Rose took his arm and smiles alittle sadly, "Look like I'm prenacy again..if I going to keep them I don't know yet." then the young woman sat back down by the window with James and layed her head gentle on his shoulder.
"Now what in the hell am I going to do since I get nobody to love? How can I support Karyn and twins without any help from an man who can be like an father to then."
"Look..." James patted on the shoulder, "You'll be fine. Honest to God, you'll be more than fine. I'll help you out, being a godfather and all. But you'll be fine, even if Rashid is gone. I'll make sure of it."
"Honest, James." the young woman replied
"Honest. You'll be ok, Rose." James thoughtfully extended his hand out, "Ask, and i'll do what you need."
Rose told James hand gentle was both of then walked back towards the guests.
Near by while holding little Karyn, Kay smiles at James and Rose hoping that some how if this is the will of the gods thenself they will be together.
Ella ran her hand over the leather dress enviously. Klingon vendors were horrible, they had no sympathy towards poor mute girls. The Ferengi were worse. She doubted she was going to be able to get anything less than the asking price and that price was just a tad too expensive, even with her fathers credit card. Pity. The leather pants however were cheaper and, as Ella reasoned with herself, every girl should at least consider buying leather pants once in their lifetime.
Ella had been searching the shops on lanJep for some time now and was curious as to what time it was. None of these shops seemed to have a clock and her Klingon was very limited. Looking across from her she spotted a man that appeared to be from Galaxy. She took out the notepad from her purse and wrote a short message. She walked over to him, tapped him on the shoulderand gave him the paper.
*Do you know what time it is?*
Jack narrowed his eyes at the note. Somewhat perplexed and also somewhat intrigued. He glanced down at his left wrist which his chrono was fastened. Also fastened to his left wrist was his left hand in which a flask of some alcohol or another was equally fastened. After a brief pause spent panning his eyes over the young woman he said, "Oh, about 1500, maybe 1515 hours or so. Or do you want me to write my answer down too. Ya know, for uniformity's sake."
Without giving the woman time to respond Jack added, "My name's Jack Valhoun. One short piece of advice: If you have to ask what time it is during shore leave, you're doing something wrong." Valhoun handed Ella back the piece of paper and decided to stand around in the hot sun for a response. He wondered to himself that if it had been some random guy approach him for the time if he would have even given him the proverbial time of day. Probably not.
Ella couldn't help narrowing her eyes as well. Ten bars of gold press latinum said this ass was a marine. She wrote out a quick note at then tapped him again, than gave him the note. She turned back to contemplation of the leather pants.
*Ella Grey. Not that it's any of your business but I have a massage in an hour, so I wanted to be sure of the time. And no, you don't have to write anything down. I wouldn't want you to show off your illiteracy or anything. Thanks for the time*
Jack smiled. Nothing wrong about getting what one deserves. He probably was being a bit of an ass. Well, at least the whiskey was and who was Jack to argue with an old friend such as that? "Well, it's good to see some fight left in Starfleet. I thought you people were above petty remarks."
"At any rate," added Valhoun, as he sized up the pants and visualized them being worn. Not by him, by the woman, mind you. "Those pants look a size too big and aren't double stitched. The seams are shoddy. Look there...and there. And across the back. While I might enjoy seeing those pants split as soon as you bent over I dare say that you would not."
She looked up from the pants. ~~Oh really~~ she signed in irritation.
The man didn't give her fingers a second glance. He continued, "Attention to detail is unfortunately a trademark of a marine. Though usually not with something so peaceful as fashion, which is equally unfortunate." Jack barked some slightly slurred insult at the Klingon shopkeep who smiled back and barked a few of his own. Apparently aggressive bargaining was part and parcel of the lanJep experience.
Ella held up the pair and frowned. God damnit, he was right. At least she was right about him being a marine. She scanned over him quickly and then wrote *You're right, you marines do have a limited fashion sense.* She handed it to him sweetly and went to the next rack of clothes.
"More's the pity." Jack scanned the merchant's wares for a moment and picked out some gaudy bikini top which certainly didn't take much material to create. It was some sort of neon polka-dot pattern and on top of that it was sheer. He held it up in front of her and pointed with glee as if he thought it was a good choice.
This was becoming annoying. And she had thought she would never find a marine that irritated her more than the three who had dragged her from the shower that day and then parade her down the decks of Galaxy in her towel.
*You started it*
"I can read, you know. A nasty little habit I picked up from my mother, that. But I find talking much more effective. You should try it sometime." Valhoun put down the top and took a swig from the flask. He tossed the flask tot he old klingon shopkeep who greedily drank. The klingon smiled, well, for a klingon and tossed the now empty flask back. "So, why exactly do you write all that nonsense down?"
~~Because you can't read sign~~ her fingers flyed.
Valhoun mimicked Ella's finger motions... badly. "What's all that business then? If you want me thinkin' your insane, don't worry. Just tell me and I'll take your word for it. You don't need to prove it. Well, speak up lass." Jack was growing weary of the woman's peculiarities. If she didn't want to talk she should just slap him like any decent woman would. Not play games with paper notes.
Play games? Lass? Ella made a disgusted noise. She looked down at the paper and realized she was running out of room. *I'm mute, you idiot.* She crumpled the paper up into a ball and threw it at him.She walked briskly past Valhoun and towards the next shop. She glared at the owner as she left, who looked at her happily- an angry customer is a good customer after all.
Jack caught the paper, managing to uncrumple it with one hand. He stared at it momentarily before realizing it was upside-down. He raised his voice so the woman could hear as she brushed past him, "What? You can't be mute. Ever hear of doctors?" Mute? That's unheard of in this day and age. Certainly the girl must be lying.
Ella spun around, and stamped her foot ~~Stop annoying me !~~
"Jus' tryin' to be nice, ya know? Join the marines, they said. See the Galaxy they said... Sheesh." Jack shook his flask, empty as usual. He tried to remember if that was a bar a half block back.
~~What, still coherent?~~ she signed with a slight sneer, eyeing the flask in his hand.
Valhoun smiled, seeing the woman eyeing his flask. He held it up to eye level and gestured with it, "Oh, this? It just a wee bit of breakfast. It's a shame that it's empty, a sip of this might cure you of your condition. It's pretty much a cure-all, come to think of it." Jack put the flask back into a pocket. He was wearing civilian attire, khaki pants with a plain blue shirt. They looked like he just had them replicated before beaming down to the surface. "This is going to turn out completely misunderstood but, what the hell are you doing down here? Half of the fleeters I've seen here look like they would rather be with Mommy right now. Klingon entertainment is a bit... coarse. Mix that with the Ferengi's here and you have a safe bet that half the crew will be coming back broke... in terms of latinum and body."
Ella scowled. ~~Mandatory shoreleave~~ she signed. She let out an irritated breath, walked over to him, before rumaging around for another piece of paper. She was really going to have to remember to stick the computer PADD in her purse next time. All she could find was an old sales receipt. She started to write but realized that she must have broken the pencil the last time. Ella shook her head before looking back at Valhoun, who was eyeing her curiously. "Man-da-tor-e Shore-leave" she mouthed at him, hoping he would understand because she certainly didnt intend to repeat herself. It was too bad his flask was empty. She might have enjoyed a drink right now.
Jack squinted as he scratched his jaw. What was that crazy chick saying? Mandatory Whoreleave? Hmm, Captain Bhrode really got to the point. But then his fantasy world collapsed as another few neurons started to fire. "Oh, mandatory shoreleave! For a second there I thought you said... actually, nevermind it's not important." He glanced up at the hot sun once again.
"Well, it appears that you are at a crossroads, Ella. You can go to your massage appointment now OR, on the the other hand, we could get out of this hot sun and get piss drunk at the nearest dive bar." Valhoun motioned to a particularly uninviting establishment by an intersection down the street. It looked to be nothing more than a hole in the wall and the small sign was far too dilapidated to be easily read. However, it appeared to make reference to some female anatomy. Or, at least, that's what Jack's underused Klingon thought it said.
She blinked, looked to where he was pointing, and then smiled. Yet another marine she'd insulted and this one was inviting her to go get drunk with him. Strange week, she thought to herself. Ella shook her head. As tempting as it was, she didn't want to 'piss drunk.' She really didn't trust herself that much.
Ella picked up her purchase, finally finding a pair of pants that were stiched correctly, and waved goodbye to Valhoun.
"Heh, 'fleeters. When will they ever learn how to have fun? Probably never." With that Valhoun turned towards that dive he pointed to earlier. Should be some excitement there.
Corran had long finished configuring the PADD into a remote control for the Runabout. The challenge, of course, was not actually testing it out once he'd done. The Trill didn't suppose that Lieutenant Conway, their pilot, would appreciate that too much.
'Ah, come on, Kid, it'd be fun. Lieutenant probably wouldn't notice - he's one of those uptight human types. Whaddya call 'em - Bratish?' Vorrin's voice whispered in the back of his skull.
With a long suffering mental sigh, Corran replied. 'It's British, Vorrin, and shut up.' Then the operations officer looked to the forward compartment. Out the viewport, he could see the Klingon resort planet of lanjep turning in it's rotation below, and directly in front of them, the Starship Galaxy. "Lieutenant Conway? What's the holdup?"
"Some kind of Security alert on the Galaxy - no one's going on or off the ship. I'll inform you when it's time for you to go aboard, Lieutenant." Conway replied.
Corran sighed. "Yeah, thanks." Then he returned to the aft compartment, where his traveling associates - also bound for new duty stations on the Galaxy, were sitting.
Sitting by herself was Brianna, soon to be new Chief Engineer on the Galaxy. Beside her laying on the seat was her Scottish Terrier, Peckerwood, sleeping as if he didn't have a care in the world. Looking up from her gray haired pet she saw Corran walk back into the passenger compartment. "How much longer we gonna be, Lieutenant?" She asked, a slight Irish accent to her voice.
"Only two people know, Lieutenant." Corran replied, placing the emphasis on Brianna's rank in a somewhat mocking tone. "And neither of them is me."
The pair were very familiar with each other, having been on opposing ends of a prank war back at the Academy that started with Corran participating in, of all things, a panty raid against O'Shea's quad.
And she had never let him forget it either, in all the time they'd been in contact with each other.
Brianna looked at him for a long moment before grinning, "You know since I last saw you, I've taught Peckerwood the kill command." She said. "So just tell me what little you do know."
"Some kind of Security alert going on, though." he finally revealed. "No telling how long it'll take, so we just get to sit here and look pretty." he replied, and cast a glance over to the Lieutenant Commander and her daughter. "But then, some of us are doing quite well in that area already." Corran said with a bit of a grin.
Yeah, Rex thought, there was more than a little Vorrin in that remark. He was a subtle bastard, that host. Subtle like a Borg Cube.
Dakota looked up in surprise as the Trill ...did he just hit on her? It had been so long that she almost couldn't remember what it sounded like when someone did that. She thought back and decided yes, he had just hit on her. She colored a little bit, and smiled tentatively at him, She would have responded, but by the time she thought of something to say, the moment had passed.
Lucky for her, Madison was asleep, otherwise she would be at her wit's end by the time they actually got onto their new ship. Not that Madison was annoying or anything. Actually, she was a very good child, very advanced beyond her years in most things. But she was also a five year old who didn't like to be cooped up in small spaces - relatively - for very long without something to do.
The small child had, in fact, told Corran so - repeatedly and at great length. He could relate.
Brianna leaned forward and turned to look at Dakota and Corran, "Careful, 'Commander, he's only sweet talking to to steal your panties. He's chased about every girl alive at the academy, including some men too, wasn't it Corran?" Brianna asked seriously then leaned back in her chair and grinned devilishly.
Rex snorted. "There were no men and you damn well know it. There was one Hermat, but I'd never heard of the species before. How was I supposed to know that they were fully functional in both ways?"
"Uh-huh, sure." Brianna said as she crossed her legs. "Just got to ask, love, s/he still call you?" Anna asked with a cocked grin as she looked back over her shoulder to see if he was getting riled.
Dakota watched the batner between the other two, feeling slightly self conscious as they spoke. They obviously knew each other, and she had barely spoken with either of them the entire trip. Madison hadn't been so encumbered; she had practically talked their ears off.
"No, thankfully. S/he was a little too clingy." Rex replied. "S/he kept talking about chil..." he started to say before he looked over at Dakota. "Chili. S/he kept talking about chili. Disgusting food."
"I happen to like chili." Dakota replied. She couldn't resist pushing the Trill's spots, so to speak.
'Oh, smooth, Kid.' Vorrin thought at Corran. He could heard the last host's laughter. Corran, for his part, merely started studying a very un-interesting bulkhead. Brianna didn't bother to hide her laughter.
Dakota looked at the pair, and sighed.
If the rest of the Galaxy's crew was like this pair, it was going to be a very long tour aboard the Starship Galaxy.....
A mystery rooted in not one, but two PBEM SIMMS!! Brought to you by ol' Joe! Back again and posting regularly!
The suspects....the man mountain himself! The irresistible force in Security gold, (Br) Commander RAVEN DARKSTAR!!! And where the big man travels, his ever loyal sidekick and deputy LEO STREELY!! And rounding out our trio..none other than the man who's mere name strikes fear in the hearts of ensigns! The man who once made a promising young cadet named Thomas urinate himself in terror...no not Liam..I'm talking about CAPTAIN JOHN Q BHRODE!!
The crime? Read on....
"I don't know how I let you talk me into this. I must have Karen Dallas examine my head." Raven Darkstar deadpanned from the overstuffed, purple, sheepskin covered chair he and Leo Streely were currently sunk into.
The little man was all smiles. Bedecked in his finest leisure suit, medallions shimmering like the stars in the sky, the former journalist patted the Indian's knee.
"You'll love it! I swear on my stolen pair of Von Ernst's panties! Nothing takes a man's mind off his problems like an evening with Ros'ana the 3 breasted Klingon stripper!" he said, nearly out of breath in anticipation. "Last spin through here, even Jii himself cracked a smile. Ros'ana came jiggling out and he forgot all about that Kit Kat chick of his. Wonder what she's up to now?"
Raven, looking distinctly uncomfortable, shifted in his seat. "Must we sit so close?"
"WHADDAYA, SOME KIND OF WISEGUY?!?!" Leo asked. "This is THE primo spot! The pole position. People kill for these seats - literally! We catch the thongs, the sweat, everything! You do have to keep an eye on the legs though. I once saw a man get kicked right in his head. Too funny! Imagine explaining that to his old lady."
The light's dimmed and a deep, throbbing music began to revertabrate throughout the crowded stage. Leo scooted to the edge of his seat as the strobe light came on and the smoke machine hidden off stage began to set the mood.
Raven folded his arms over his large chest and began scanning the crowd looking for trouble. That task was made even more difficult when a statuesque Klingon female strutted out onto the stage. The crowd exploded into a frenzy of whoops and clapping as the woman took to the big brass pole with skill and grace.
The Indian paid her no heed. He was instead focusing on the raucous crowd. More specifically a chuckle.
He tilted his head to hear better and listened to that laugh. A laugh heard once before. A slimy, grotesque laugh.
Immediately the Security officer stood, leaving Leo wearing a three cupped bra on his head and a huge lopsided smile, and began to swim through the crowd of revelers in the smoke filled room until there before him was the creature that had nearly ended his life.
Iglom, the Yiridian.
The overweight slug had seemingly grown more robust since their last encounter, and as always, his hand was once again moving under his jeweled loincloth. His twin associates were nowhere to be seen, but in their place were two Bolian women in dog collars, the chains to their leashes attached to the rings in Iglom's nipples.
A wicked grin split the Yiridian's mottled face as recognition set in.
"Ah..if it isn't the Human man-woman. Where is your little mascot, grub slime? And tell me..how did they manage to piece you back together again? I didn't think you would recover from your little...accident." he hissed, large ears flapping proudly.
He snapped one of the chains and the Bolian woman lifted her leg and urinated on Raven's boot.
"I taught her that myself. Don't you just love it?" Iglom gloated with glee.
Darkstar bristled and took a step foreword, his fists clenched dangerously.
A Gorn nearly twice Darkstar's size stepped between the two. The Yiridian chuckled again. "Oh, where are my manners? I seem to have forgotten to introduce you to Kimo, my new body guard. Always use protection. That's my motto. Especially with so many deranged Starfleet officers looking for revenge after being soundly trounced beneath my awesome might. Dust beneath my chariot wheels, if you will." he said, scratching his ample behind and licking his fingers.
Kimo snorted and glared down at the Indian.
Darkstar seemed unimpressed.
"Your breath smells like a rotted corpse. You will move, or I will move you." he said simply.
"Oh my dear broken man, Kimo only moves when I tell him to. Let me show you. Kimo..space." Iglom ordered. On command, the Gorn shoved the Security officer backwards into a table of patrons too busy watching Ros'ana pop ping pong balls out of her bodily orifices.
Raven moved foreword and locked arms with the gargantuan reptile, crashing to the floor in a struggle. The crown now forgetting Ros'ana (who was busy shelling peanuts with the cheeks of her behind) had turned to the conflict.
Iglom laughed at the two until a flicker of movement caught his attention.
Leo Streely - a flash of crushed purple velvet was charging him with what appeared to be a broken table leg hoisted high.
"YOU SONOFABITCH!!! YOU SONOFABITCH!!! YOU ATTACK ONE OF US YOU ATTACK US BOTH YOU STEAMING PILE OF MONKEY SHIT! I'LL PISS IN YOUR SKULL FOR WHAT YOU DID TO HIM!!!"
Panic crossed Iglom's brow and he reigned in his slaves as shields until a booming voice called out from the crowd.
"BELAY THAT SWING, DEPUTY!" John Q Brhode bellowed. His Hirogen skin boots echoed on the tiled floor as he marched briskly, hands clamped behind his back. Two armed security guards flanked the gray haired Captain - their hands on their still holstered phasers.
"MEAT TRUCK, TO YOUR FEET." he snapped. The Indian reluctantly released his grip on the Gorn's throat. The reptile hissed and crouched to attack again. Brhode spoke, a scowl etched deeply over his face. "YOU SO MUCH AS BLINK YOUR BEADY LITTLE EYES AND YOU WILL FIND YOURSELF PICKING MY HIRGOEN BOOTS OUT OF YOUR SCALY ASS."
The Gorn hissed at the human, baring his teeth. Iglom was furious. "Kimo, attack! Damn you, Zonhieb! I said attack!"
Leo momentarily forgetting his rage to the Yiridian, turned to the Gorn. "Zonhieb? Your a relation to Seth? Big, green and scaly? Breath as bad as yours?"
"S.ss.seth is my cousin."
"Well, what the heck is a Zonhieb doing with a schmuck like him? Geez! Tell your cousin Leo from the Galaxy said Hi!" the little man squawked.
"The Galaxssssy?"
"What is all this chatting like a woman? I want you to eat them all! Now!" Iglom shouted from his throne of pillows.
Leo turned to the bulbous Iglom. "Hey sunshine, you always talked about wanting to take Seth's momma, paint her tits red and white and paddle her till she called you Big Hoss. Maybe Kimo here will let you do that to his momma!"
The Gorn hissed loudly and reared upon the Yiridian. "Aunt Xena! I will feast on your bones before this night is over!"
"I..i..i NEVER said such a thing! The litle rat is lying! I swear!"
"It dont matter what you said! I know what you did and its time to take your fat ass to the Leo Streely woodshed!"
"ENOUGH OF THIS NONSENSE!!" Bhrode thundered. He walked within inches of the obese, gray skinned Iglom.
"You are the bastard who attacked Lt. Commander Darkstar. Nearly killing him. That was pretty nice. Compressed air projectiles. Very innovative" he said in a low, flat and lethal tone.
"Why thank you. You know, I also have.."
"SHUT YOUR MOUTH." Brhode snapped. "In exactly 180 minutes from now, I will have the entire sensor net on the USS GALAXY brought to bear on this planet. They will be searching for life signs. Yiridian lifesigns. If they find one still here, I will order a torpedo launched to end your misbegotten life where you stand."
Iglom's jaw dropped.
"Y..You can't do that.."
"Like hell I can't. My men are the best. I give the order and they could singe your nipples off with a phaser blast. I suggest you vanish and fast." Brhode spat.
In what appeared to be uncertain panic, Iglom gathered himself and stopped short of Brhode.
"Do watch your back, Captain. This place can be very dangerous." he hissed. "Ask Darkstar."
Brhode calmly turned to the Ensign to his left. "Phaser."
Iglom broke out into a run, hitting the doors and racing out into the streets just as Brhode's phaser bolt cut through the air. Handing the phaser back, he turned to Leo and Raven. You two have three hours before you are ordered to return to the ship and we leave this mudball. You may want to make sure your last hours are...funfilled. " he said looking over his shoulder in the direction Iglom had ran.
He turned to leave and Leo shot a paw out to grab his arm.
"Waitamintute..waitaminute! What the hell were you doing in here? You could have told us about returning on the combadge. Why did you wanna come down here?"
Brhode's grim face relaxed ever so slightly. "Same as you Mr. Streely. I wanted to see her." he said nodding at the three breasted stripper. "Just because there is snow on the mountain, doesn't mean there isnt fire down below."
Instantly his face stiffened again.
"And if you tell anyone we had this conversation, I will see you both shipped out to Breen. CARRY ON!!." he ordered marching out the door.
The hulking Darkstar turned to Leo, who's jaw was dangling open.
"Hell must have frozen over. I swear to Christ! Satan is taking slapshots from the blue line right this very minute." Leo uttered. " I think I actually am begining to like that guy."
Raven snorted, still looking around dangerously as Leo began to babble to the Gorn.
"Lee'am to Olka. Come in!" the Klingon security guard shouted into his communicator as he kicked the body with the tip of his metal clad boots. He squatted down in the dimly lit hallway, careful not to step in any of the dark puddles or piles of rotted food that filled the narrow alley.
[Security..what is it now, Lee'am? That crazy federation Captain shooting again?]
"I found a body in the service corridor near the Bloodwart. It appears that his neck has been broken." he said.
[And what makes you a forensic expert?]
"Maybe it is the way his head is twisted that indicates that. Just get someone down here and take care of this before his fat carcass begins to dray maggots." he said looking down at Iglom's lifeless face.
The night was growing long as the two Ferengi took in a meal at Rowz'Ta'Duk, one of the fine dining facilities in the lanJep'i capitol city. A fantastic meal of grubworms, leurvve and slugjuice hit the spot more than either ferengi realized.
"So why can't we go back to the ship yet? My store needs to be reopened for business and I have to go over the inventory reports YOU ordered me to get done." Curot stated and burped a fishy belch. "And you still owe me 10% of the profit from this trip!"
"Considering we both lost out on profit, perhaps you should owe me."
"WHAT?!?" Curot yelled and flung a spoonfull of grubworms across the room.
"I'm kidding." Crom sighed. Profit. He was supposed to have earned massive amounts of profit.
"So let's go backto the Galaxy! There is aalways profit to be found there...." Curot said bluntly.
"I know, I know...it's just... just...." Crom seemed to be searching for the right words. "It's just not the same!" He folded his arms across his chest. "Besides, there is some kind of security alert going on aboard. No transports or shuttles, no one gets on, no one gets off. Wonder what the problem is?" Crom stood up. "I'm heading outside for a bit. I need some air."
He strolled towards the door in the usual ferengi manner, and walked through the swinging gates into the cool lanJep'i evening. The star were beginning to show and Crom could almost swear he could see the Galaxy from where he stood. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a communicator.
"Crom to Galaxy" he said as he tapped the pad.
=/\= Galaxy Here =/\=
"When can I expect transport for myself and my Attache?"
=/\= Unknown sir. There are still some problems here that must be addressed first. I will contact you when we are capable of transport. =/\=
"I do have an assload of work that i need to get done, chief. Make it fast." Crom said impatiently.
=/\= Of COURSE Sir, I'll make sure I tell security to hurry up with things for you =/\= came the snide remark back. Crom expected it. Curot came out of the diner a moment after Crom finished putting his communicator away.
"What was that about?" Curot querried curiously. He stil had some leurvve on his cheek.
"Just checking with the ship. Still nothing."
"Crom, i had an idea."
"What?"
"Well, i am sure the security alert is because of that thing that happened," Curot was careful not to mention anything in particular, he knew his Ferengi counterpart would get the jist of it.
"Well, that is more that obvious, you ninny!" Crom grew quickly agitated. "What is your point?"
"So, why don't we sell it BACK to security?"
Crom could do nothing but blink in amazement. Suddenly he began walking swiftly down the road muttering "....brilliant....utterly brilliant...glad I thought of that......" The House of K'Alling was not very far. There must be some way to negotiate for the desk back. He stopped in his tracks as Curot bumped into him from behind. Crom span o na heel. "CUROT!!! Tell me you still have the Transport mat!"
The ungency of the case made Curot tell the truth. "Of courseI do, it's in my packhere..." he patted his small backpack he had been carrying.
"Well, set it up!" Crom said triumphantly. "We are going to acquire something from the Klingons, but there is a tremendous danger to it. I'll go and meet with Av'on K'Alling and try to attatch one of the Accentuators to the desk. The moment I do, I'll be relying on you to get me out of there. The Klingons won't take this one sitting down." Crom smiled. "I'll somehow lay the blame on the house of Du'Pont, and they should be off our tracks." His eyes grew with envy of his wonderful idea. "We also need to find someone in Security on the Galaxy we can TRUST, or buy, one of the two."
425