by LTCDR Dakota Harris
USS
Galaxy:The Next Generation Sim Log Stardate: 50302.17 - 50302.24 |
OOC: Those that are/were on the Colorado might recognize this and "It's Fun to be Five", but I figured they were so good at introducing the characters backgrounds - plus I liked them so much - that I had to send them again.
Dakota sat back in her quarters, watching Madison sleep. She did this fairly often. It was very peaceful to watch a child sleep. There was some sort of innocence that clung to them, even if the child in question was the worst terror to walk the earth.
The innocence wasn't fully there when the child was awake. It was only something that could be achieved while they were asleep. Mixed in with the innocence was a very trusting air.
Dakota wished that she could capture that air again. The knowledge that no matter what was going on, your mommy, or daddy as the case might be, would solve the problem. Whatever hurt there was, Mommy could make it go away. Whatever horror there was in the night, Mommy could keep it at bay. To children, parents are the real heroes, as they navigate their children through the terrors of living in this world - whatever world you may be on.
Dakota dreaded the day when Madison would learn that not all hurts would go away. Not everything could soothed with a kiss and a hug and a candy if it was particularly bad.
Some things stuck with you, and being alone in the night only seemed to bring it out even more.
So, she watched Madison, trying to recapture some of that lost innocence.
No matter what Madison was doing, whenever Dakota saw her, her heart was filled with an almost overpowering maternal love, and she knew that she would do whatever she was required to protect this child, to keep her safe and warm, and most importantly, loved. Was there ever a more beautiful, sweeter, more loving child in the universe?
Even though Dakota was understandably biased, she didn't think so.
The room was dark, and the only thing that Dakota could see from the chair she was draped across was the one shaft of light that dropped across her daughter's beautiful face.
She couldn't help but think of the past as she sat there.
******
She had been so happy the first year they had been together. Even the wedding itself had been good. She had felt like the belle of the ball in her wedding dress, a very old fashioned one that had been in the family for many generations. It was carefully kept, and she had barely been able to tell that it was so old. The veil had been about ten feet long, and it swept down past the four foot train of her dress to float along the floor. She had carried a bouquet of white and pink roses, and Charlie, her fiancée, had looked so handsome in his dress uniform. Even though things had ended the way they had, she still kept their wedding pictures out, and looked at them often.
How simple everything had seemed on that day! They had both just graduated from the Academy, and they had the world by the tail.
What Dakota had never had to learn was that sometimes when you have life by the tail, it turns around and rends you with teeth and claws.
They had a wonderful one month honeymoon, skipping around the Alpha Quadrant on credit given to them by all of their family. It was a standing tradition in his family to give the couple plenty of credits, to be used only for the honeymoon. Dakota's family had joined in this tradition whole-heartedly.
Dakota could still remember the thrill the first time a stranger had called her Mrs. Harris. She had flushed pink with pleasure, and Charlie had laughed at her. Oh, how he had laughed.
Things had gone downhill, though.
She had left for her first posting on the USS Farragut, a fresh-faced Ensign in the Science department. Charlie had gone off to Starfleet Medical, and they had been separated for months at a time. Charlie has discovered that Starfleet was not really the life for him as much as he enjoyed being a doctor. He took to drinking, being careful to cover up that fact from the Counselors, who would have taken him out of the Academy so fast, his head would still be spinning.
Dakota tried to be a supportive wife, but she couldn't understand how in the world Charlie could hate something that she loved so much. She felt that she was born for Starfleet. He began to resent her for succeeding so well at something he began to fail abysmally in, and he took it out on her every time she saw him.
When Charlie drank, he was a mean drunk. That was usually when all of his resentment towards hr came flooding out, and it wasn't unusual for Dakota to sit on the couch and watch him in wide-eyed bewilderment as he stalked around their living quarters, flailing his arms and yelling at her. She wouldn't respond most of the time - the couple of times that she had done that, he had become so dangerous, she had ended up barricading herself in their room, leaving him to sleep it off on the couch.
Things became worse and worse between them, until one night in early 2372. She had come to the quarters, after being gone for about seven months, to try and reason with Charlie. Try to have him quit drinking, quit Starfleet if need be, and she would get him some help.
He had laughed at that. "What kind of help could you give me?" he had smirked, already well into his bottle.
She told him she wanted a divorce.
She didn't remember much more of that night. The last clear thing she remembered was Charlie leaping at her, his face frozen in a snarl of rage. The things that she did remember were better suited to a horror movie. He horribly abused her that night, both physically and sexually.
She woken the next morning in the hospital. Her face was a mess. Both of her eyes were black, and there was a gash along her hairline. There were bruises that perfectly fit Charlie's fingers as he tried to choke her. She had broke down crying when she saw the bruises, remembering times when his fingers had lain at the base of her neck in a loving touch.
Two of her ribs had been bruised, and there had been some internal bleeding. Nothing had happened to Charlie, because he told the hospital that she had fallen down the stairs while they had been drinking. She had backed up the story when she had awoken.
It didn't matter. Charlie found out two days later that he had been kicked out of Starfleet, deemed unsuitable for service, and strongly urged to take some counseling.
It had been one more thing that he had blamed her for. Luckily, by the time she had found out, she was already at her parents in Texas, and the authorities had been alerted of the situation.
Two weeks later, she had turned up pregnant.
Both she and Charlie had made the decision, before they had ever been married, that they did not want to have children this early in their marriage. What kind of life would that be for a child, mother on a ship, father on earth, separated from one or the other for months on end. There was plenty of time for that once he was posted to a ship, and she could always get transferred to be with him.
As the bottom dropped out of their relationship, that had been one more reason for her to be glad that they had not had children.
Now, there she was, with a child conceived in horror.
She had cried when she told her parents. She had been strongly considering getting an abortion - how could she possibly bear a child that would remind her of that horrible night every time she looked at it?
Her father, who had always been her strength, took her aside, and had told her that he would support her in whatever she did. Before she made any decisions, however, he wanted to take her somewhere.
The first stop they had made that fateful day, three days after she found out she was pregnant was the hospital, to the maternity ward. She had looked through the thick glass window at all the new babies, so tiny and helpless, and she had begun to cry again.
The next stop had been to an orphanage, where he had set up an appointment for to speak with the head of the establishment, about how easy it would be for her to have the child, and then give it to a good home.
The last stop had been the cemetery.
In a small hill, carefully protected by a large oak tree, had been an area filled with tiny white crosses. An angel carved out of marble sat on a pedestal, watching down over the tiny graves, and he had pointed out one of them two rows up, and three crosses to the left. The name Harris was printed on it, and the year 2345, and that was it.
With a careful voice, her dad told her about the older sibling that she might have had. Her mother had been the victim of a rape when she accidentally wondered into the wrong part of town on vacation. She had ended up pregnant and they had decided together that she would have an abortion. It was better for all concerned, they decided, so that she wasn't forced to remember what happened every day of her pregnancy and afterwards.
"That had got to be the decision that I regret most in my life, agreeing with your mother to kill that tiny little life that she had growing inside of her. It wasn't that one's fault that it's life had been started as the result of a horror. It wasn't that one's fault that we made the decision to ill it before it even got started. I think about the things that it could have done, and I regret it. I regret every single day, and I think about it every single day. I don't want you making that sort of a mistake, Kota," she remembered him saying to her, a strong arm wrapped around her shoulders.
If anything, it was the sight of that hill, covered in tiny white crosses, that changed her mind.
And that ended up being the best thing that had ever happened to her.
*******
Now, she stood up and kneeled beside the bed where her daughter, the love of her life, lay in sleep. She held her daughter's hand lightly, and prayed beside her bed in the dark, tears rolling down her cheeks, thanking God that she had made the right decision.
Dakota sat down on a park bench, enjoying the sunshine on her face, It had been too long since she had been out in the sun. Life on a starship was fine and dandy, but nothing could replace the sunshine, the feeling of thick grass beneath your feet, the smell of summer. The smell of Texas summer.
She had taken advantage of the brief break between ships and brought Madison down to San Antonio. They had visited her parents for a while, gone out to lunch, and now she had brought Madison to the park that she had grown up in. It had been her favorite place to go when she was a child. Most of the time, on nice days, you could find Dakota curled up underneath a tree in the shade (only a fool sat out in the Texas summer heat all day long - too hot) on a blanket, a cooler of drinks set next to her, with a stack of books beside her. She always brought at least two, because she read that fast.
Other times, she would go on an explore. The fascination of this had dimmed as she had grown up, but when she had been eight, nine, ten, she had loved to follow the stream that coursed through the park. After a while, it exited the park and went down through a little ravine, then spread out into small pond. The water had always been running in the pond, with a strong current, so she could splash around without worrying about rash, or leeches, or anything nasty like that.
And she would play pretend. Pretend is a fun game, one that a little girl with a vivid imagination had excelled at. Pretend that she was a princess in Long Ago, and she was being chased by the evil Prince, who wanted to capture her and do Unspeakable Things to her when he did. (In her naiveté, she had not understood what these Unspeakable Things had been. She had thought that maybe he would tie her up and tickle her for hours on end. That was the worst thing she could think of.)
Other times, she had been on a Safari in Far Away Lands, sneaking up on the lion, the tiger, the bear, trying to catalogue their habits.
Sometimes, she was an officer in Starfleet, exploring a brave new world. She would be the first person to step foot on these worlds, and see so many new things! Every time she pretended like that, she would go home and tell her parents everything that she had seen. They would always play along, of course, asking her, in mock horror, what she had done when the lion she had been following had detected her, and turned around to eat her, or how many new species she had seen on this new planet.
They knew that she played down there, and were happy. She was outdoors, she sometimes had friends with her, but mostly, she was using her imagination, not just sitting inside, attached to a computer terminal like so many other children these days were, laying those silly online games, or the online writing simulations. It was so much better to do that outdoors.
And now she watched Madison play, running here and there, playing tag with the wind and the sunshine, racing her shadow. he would laugh in the high tones of a child who is having fun. Dakota sometimes wished that her daughter could have a normal life, here in Texas, out in the sun, playing by a pool, dancing in the rain.
What was considered normal these days, however? Madison was happy with the way she lived - how could she not, when a starship was all she had ever known?
Madison chased her shadow for a bit, dodging in and out of trees to try and beat it. She knew that she couldn't, but it was always fun to try. She watched her mother sitting on the park bench, and thought how glad that she was that her mother was here. Her mama was the center of her life, and she loved being around her. Mama knew some really fun games to play, and she never laughed at Madison whenever she snuck into her room late at night, asking to sleep with her, cause otherwise the monsters in her closet would get her. Every once in a while, they would go on a monster hunt, with pots from the kitchen on their heads, and water phasers as weapons. everyone knew that monsters couldn't stand water - her mama said so, therefore it must be true.
Madison also knew that in a little while, mama would get up and come over to her, and they would have a simply lovely hour of playing in the park. They would play tag, and hide-n-go-seek, and tickle monster, and have lots of fun.
But for now, she played by herself, under the watchful eye of an Adult.
Madison found herself being pulled to the creek. It was calling her name, wondering why she didn't come and play with it? Wasn't it fun? She got closer and closer to the edge, until she stood at the bank and looked own over the stream.
It was about four feet wide at the widest point, and couldn't be no more then two feet deep at it's deepest point. At the point that she was at, however, the water burbled and trickled along at six inches. It was shallow enough so that some enterprising youngster had gone through and put rocks down at easy to reach points, so that one could go across the stream, but not get your feet wet at all.
Madison skipped across the rocks with carefree abandon of every child. The rocks would stay solid, and she would not fall in. Even if she did, would that be such a bad thing? It would give her an excuse to get totally wet, and her mama wouldn't get too mad. After all, you can't control falling in the water.
On the other side, Madison looked back at her mother. She looked so far away now. Her mama waved at her in the come-back motion, and Madison deliberately misunderstood her, waving back at her. Then she turned and skipped away again, careful to keep her mother in sight.
The trees on this side looked different then the other ones. The trees on the other side were kept well-groomed, and pleasing to the eye. The ones on this side were not in the purview of the park administrators, therefore, no need was felt to keep them maintained.
Madison decided that she liked this side much better. There was a sort of wildness to it, one that she hadn't seen since she was four, on that planet the captain had allowed the civilians down to see, to get a break from the ship.
That planet had been int'resting. It was all forest. There were underground seas, so there was almost no break in the overhead canopy. The trees had formed a strong enough bridge that the shuttle had managed to land on the tops of them, and they had been let out to walk around. Carefully. It would not have been fun to miss a step and go plummeting down to the forest bottom.
As she walked through the trees, Madison began to pretend that she was an explorer, that she was the first person to ever see this scenery. It was very exhilarating, and she was following a strange looking creature, one that was half elephant and half dog, but only the size of a terran sheep.
Dakota watched as her daughter deliberately misunderstood her come-back wave. That was okay. Madison knew perfectly well not to go out of her sight, and the girl should probably have fun while she could. No harm was being done.
The little girl looked kind of funny, walking slowly through the trees, hunched over, as if she feared detection. She knew that she had passed on a vivid imagination to Madison, and was glad to see that her daughter felt no shame in using that imagination.
Granted, she was also only five. Not near old enough for any sort of inhibition to set in about her activity.
It was fun to be five.
YES! THIS IS A BACKPOST!!!!! (set before all the lan'Jepi posts start/end !!! JUST to annoy continuity and stuff.)
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"You may NOT pass!" the Klingon shouted, swinging a baK'leth at Sam Widdlestein (aged 10)'s head.
The ten year old dodged the attack easily and rolled to her feet.
With a growl, the Klingon swung his weapon in a backarc at her head, the air hissing around it.
"I said 'Please Grimalkins' three times, you MUST let me pass!" Sam insisted, dropping her head out of the razor edges' way.
"Never! I will eat your heart!" The Kligon spat, coming in for a third try to decapitate her.
Sam shrugged and pulled out a phaser, aiming at the Klingon's head.
"Then die, you ugly, lily-livered son of a honorless..." she began.
"STOP PROGRAM!" came the shout behind her, freezing the Klingon in wide eyed surprise.
Sam blew out an exasperated 'puff' of air, blowing her bangs out of her eyes and eyed Lysander.
"Where does she get the smegging phaser from? There's no smegging phaser in the smegging fairy tale..." he nattered while waving a PADD at her.
"Is so" Sam replied sulkily.
"The SMEG there is! I see a bajilion matresses, a tower, and a Magic Pea, but no smegging phaser!" Lysander nattered.
"It's Arel. She -always- has a Phaser-I handy." Sam replied.
"Smith? I suppose..." Lysander mused.
"Always." Sam repeated firmly.
"I don't see the part in here where she has to beat up a tribe of orcs?" Lysander pressed his point. To no avail.
"In Grimalkin and the Magic Pea? ummm...... creative license. Mummy says that you need to get your audience's attention. Especially Arel's. If she's not able to punch SOMETHING she gets all funny looking and starts to look for excuses to break something." Sam replied even more firmly.
"Where is the Magic Pea?" Lysander demanded.
"I changed it to that Plasma Grenade in Chapter One." Sam replied arily.
"When she is supposed to storm the Enchated Castle to find the Pea? If she already HAS the errr.... Enchanted Grenade, why storm the castle to GET the Enchanted pee..eeerr... Grenade in the first place?" Lysander demanded.
"MEN!" San threw up her hands.
"Now -that- sounds like old Smith." Lysander cackled.
"Did you come here for a reason, or just to annoy me? I have to get this ready for shipment to Arel before she marries whassisname. And shouldn't YOU be getting ready for a vacation?" Sam demanded, hands on her hips.
"Errr.... actually.. yes." Lysander admitted.
"What?" Sam demanded, eyes closed in narrow concentration.
"Err.. remember those hologram personality subroutines we worked on?" He fidgeted.
"Yes."
"The ones where we used real people's psychological profiles in the matrices?"
"I said yes."
"Well... it seems.. I ...err.. smegging sort of.. promised... I wouldn't use them again once I handed them over to Starfleet." Lysander fidgeted more.
"So?" Sam demanded.
"errr... I've to.. err.. this is awkward... err... umm...."
"What?"
"Arrest you. For sending them to Smith on the USS Miranda."
* * * * * * * * * *
"IT IS STARING AT ME AGAIN!" Leo shrieked from cell four of the Brig.
Ensign Tray, the Brig specialist on duty, sighed and left the Security Duty Console to Raven Darkstar's capeable hands. She didn't have much choice, Raven had been clear on "YOU go deal with him" as his orders for the shift. Raven just hunched his massive shoulders and tried to make sense of the conflicting reports from Corgan's Heros' coming in from all over the ship. Something about a desk. . .missing. Or found.
Bhrode had tossed El Leo Magnifico into the brig at the end of the Defiant Mission. AND of course, Leo and Raven will be seen later on lan'Jep! Sooooo... how did Leo get out of the Brig? Let's find out. . . .
With most of the crew off the ship on Holiday, it was a slow day in Security.
"Now calm down... when Major Bolivar found the dog, and was called to other duties.. he gave it to Lieutenant Irwin, who left it here." the willowy Ensign Tray explained, eying the cute Scottish Terrier in the holding cell across the hall from Leo's. The terrier wagged its curly tail and panted, it's head cocked to the side.
"Who?" demanded Leo.
"Major Bolivar, Dr Quick or Lieutanant Irvin?"demanded Ensign Tray.
"Yeah. Him." replied Leo.
"Who?"
"Which one says 'Crikey, He's got me Bong?' alla the time?" asked Leo.
"Huh?" Replied Tray.
"Cause it ain't that one... hey...that's dog!" Leo replied, pointing at Peckerwood, who growled.
"The dog is staring? Or the guy who says something abot a bong? or the aussie guy?" asked a confused Tray.
"Sheesh! Not the DOG! He's cute." Leo flapped his hands in disgust."Hi little fellow! You a prisoner of -the man- too? FIGHT THE POWER!" Leo shouted, waving a pudgy and frankly not-too-clean Solidarity Fist around.
Peckerwood heaved a doggie sigh, turned three times and curled up into a ball to ignore the humans.
"I'll have to ask you again, not to speak to the dog. He coughed up a hairball the last time. Dr Quick will return to take it to its owner..." Ensign Trey repeated, for not the first time today.
"I think he LIKES me!" Leo shouted, under the mistaken assumption that he needed to shout, to be heard through the Security Field, and that the dog did, in fact like him. Peckerwood merely laid his ears flat and growled, feigning sleep.
"Dr Quick? Major Bolivar? Lieutenant Irving? And this bothers you?" asked a confused Ensign Trey.
"Look It's Purring! Awwwwwww.... NO! Not the dog! Or that Bolivar guy! I saw "Boys from Brazil" and I -know- what them Nuttzi guys are up to! Neither of them... SHE is staring at me again!" Leo screeched, pointing a chubby finger at the cell next to the one inhabitated by the dog across from him.
"Me?" Sam Widdlestein (aged 10) asked, looking up from the PADD on her lap.
"Yeah! Never trust a kid with a knife! I heard about you! You tried to flush that Little Red Head guy out into space! I'm ON to you! You can't pull the underwear over MY eyes! Because I don't WEAR Underwear! HAH!" Leo shouted, pointing at Sam again.
"Whaaaa?" Ensign Tray said, her head whipping to see Sam's response.
"Knife!? My Mummy SAID I could keep that knife, if Arel wasn't here to protect me! And I NEVER flushed anyone into space! Although I HAVE been tempted!" Sam shouted, her face scarlet with anger, as she surged to her feet.
"Arel? AREL SMITH? The Man Hater? Hoooo booooyyyyy I can tell you some stories about her!" Leo shouted.
"She's getting MARRIED because she followed MY advice and is getting herself a man! My Mummy says that if you hit age twenty and haven't found..." Sam shouted back.
"Your MUMMY? I can tell you a few stories about HER too!" Leo shouted back, causing Ensign Tray to whip her head around to see him better again.
"What did you say about my Mummy?" Sam shouted back. Tray of course, looked back at Sam.
"Yes!" Leo shouted back, using his Leo Logic.
"What?" Sam asked.
"What what?" Leo replied.
"Grrrr..." growled Peckerwood.
"Whaaaaa?" asked Tray.
"WHAT did you say about my mother?" Shouted Leo, fists curling up.
"NOTHING!" shouted Sam. Ensign Tray was spinning in circles, trying to follow the conversation.
"What?" Demanded Leo.
"What what?" retorted Sam.
"Yip!" added Peckerwood.
"Wrong script, Tubby!" Sam sneered.
"Oh. My bad. Okay.... I said your Mother was a LOUD, OPINIONATED and, may I add U-G-L-Y, Aint got no alibi, UGLY PILE OF STEAMING MONKEY..." Leo was shouting when sudden silence fell.
Total silence from all the cells.
"And this is our Brig. I had to have them double the size of it from the original GALAXY plans. It is SO hard to find good crew these days." Bhrode's voice fell into the silence like a Orbital Plasma Bomb.
Flanking him were the Andorian Aunties and Raven Darkstar. Darkstar released the button for the sound dampening system on the cells with his trademarked scowl. He took a position directly across from Leo, with his mighty arms crossed over a barrel-like chest and glowered at Leo.
"Hi Buddy!" mouthed Leo silently (shut up by the sound suppression field! YAY!) twiddling his fingers in a wave.
Raven just loomed and scowled.
Bhrode strutted, in his Hirogen skin boots and an Auntie on either arm, into the Brig Row. They stopped in front of Peckerwood first.
"How adorable! Look Ar'Resh..." Rexa enthused.
"Yes! A dog! So tasty and yet functional..." Ar'Resh replied.
"Not to eat, it is a PET!" Rexa corrected.
"So cute! He reminds me of the dog that nice Tommy Walker had on..." Ar'Resh tittered.
"The USS Venture! You remember Tommy Walker! Don't you Johnny Wonny?" Rexa asked Bhrode.
Leo's eyes popped and goggled. "Johnny Wonny?" Leo's lips moved silently, repeating the phrase.
The Universe came to a screeching halt.
Ensign Tray whimpered and passed out on the spot, collapsing into a heap. She had only been aboard since Galaxy hit lan'Jepi orbit, but even SHE knew better than to address the Old Man like that.
Even Peckerwood looked up in sudden consternation, ears perked like it was dinnertime. Leo's mouth hung open, making whu-whu-whu noises faintly and Sam even seemed at loss of a smart assed comeback, for once in her short life.
Raven blinked, and his looming seemed to waver for a moment.
"I remember Tommy Walker. Now HE was an Engineer! And he had a cat, not a dog. Someone get this puke out of my sight." Bhrode commented with a scowl, eying Ensign Tray with disdain writ large on his face.
The Andorian Aunties tittered. Raven blinked again.
The Universe went back to it's course seemingly none the worse for the wear. And the Aunties amazingly enough had not been flayed alive for calling JQB 'Johnny Wonny'
"Darkstar! Why is this dog in here? I have an entire Engineering Department who could be rotting away in this cell." Bhrode snapped, pointing at the offending Peckerwood.
"Lost. Someone dropped off. Looking for owner." Darkstar replied in grunts, watching his crew drag a still senseless Ensign Tray out of the Brig by the heels.
"Schnozzle Snootchie bootchies... we can keep this [BLEEP]ing chick... right?" Demanded Security Crewman Jay from Ensign Tray's right heel, as Silent Bob just shook his head in disgust.
"No." replied Darkstar.
"But.. damn.. she's hot!" Jay declared, licking his lips.
"First you let them bring guns aboard, then it's a damn petting zoo. Remind me to address the crew about this. We'll be having Targs in the Engineering Offices next. Fornication on the Bridge. Goatlickers in the lifeboats." Bhrode sniffed, glaring at the dog. Peckerwood wagged his tail and yipped.
"ohhh.. who is this desperado?" Rexa asked, seeing Streeley.
"So strong, so virile and manly!' cooed Ar'Resh, also checking out a beaming Leo.
"That is Lieutenant Commander Darkstar, our Assistant Security Chief and the finest damn Loomer aboard the ship." Replied Bhrode, scowling at Samantha. Sam scowled right back.
Ole Brer Raven, he jest loom and scowl him some.
"Hey hey HEY!" mouthed Leo (silently still) "I'm right HERE!" Raven, ever alert to Bhrode's moods, never took his eyes off Streeley or his finger off the Sound Dampner button.
"Why is there a child in here Darkstar?" Bhrode demanded, still scowling at Samantha.
"Concealed illegal weapon in Primary Classroom Two. Suspected Attempted Murder of Commander Von Ernst aboard USS DEFIANT. Stalking Commander Hawksley. Illegal access to a Starfleet database. Illegal access to Fleet LCARS system. Defacing of Starfleet property. Unauthorized presence in an Away Team. Forgery of Mummy's name on permission slips. Not making her bed. Resisting arrest..." Raven started to recite.
"HEY! LIES! I never resisted, that much...They grabbed me! So I kicked them! Arel would have done the same!" Sam yelled.
"So young and so..." Rexa swiveled her attention to Sam.
"Willfull. Firey even. Rexa, she reminds me of..." Ar'Resh commented.
"Our Heinrich's Ella!" they chorused, smiling at Sam, who glowered pure hate back at them.
"Who is Heinrich? Is that one of my Darling Lysander's middle names?" demanded Samantha, testily.
"Let me at the women, I'll show them the [BLEEP]ing Heinrich Manuever!" Jay boasted. Silent Bob just shook his head in disgust again.
"Is that a HAT?" Bhrode demanded of Jay, his eyes on the offending and non-regulation headwear.
"Errrr... we're just leaving now. Me and my tubby life partner here." Jay said, dragging Tray out the door.
"Yoo hoo! Johnny...Johnnykins!. . ." trilled Rexa
"...let her go! She is so young and innocent. Surely the Fleet has better things to do than punish children." Ar'Resh continued.
"I'm sure that if WE talked to her Mother..."
"...we could straighten this all out."
"Yes, WE could...let her go Johnny?"
"Yes Johnny Wonny Pooh!" Ar'Resh cooed.
"Yeah, let THEM and my Mummy hash it out!" Replied a suddenly interested Samantha.
"My Orders are: Put her in a dress and send her to her parents. This is a starship, not a nursery school. All charges dismissed." Bhrode ordered.
Raven sighed, and had to release the Sound Dampner to access Sam's Cell controls.
". . . and THEN you THROW me in here AGAIN! No trial, no charges. No NOTHING but aggravation and "You Dropped Your Soap" in the sonic showers...Whadda CROCK! Price would never have done that! That Aussie Guy may have been... you know... one of THEM! Even Jii knows better than to bite the butt that he kisses... or something...but Price? Gay! But otherwise he was Okay! This is the SECOND time you threw me in the Brig! ATTICA! ATTICA!" Leo's voice screeched.
"Thank you Captain. But if I have to wear a dress, I'd rather stay here. Even with Uncle Leo Streeley." Sam simpered.
"Get her OUT of here!" Bhrode ordered Darkstar, who hoisted Sam under one arm and carried her out of the Brig, kicking and screaming. Sam was kicking and screaming. Not Raven. He just scowled.
"I am NOT wearing a DRESS!" Sam shrieked, kicking futily, her voice receding in the distance.
"Ohh.. something blue I think Ar'Resh..."
"..Or a cute green Rexa."
"I dunno. I was thinking something in Organdy Tuille bias cut with a princess line with a bow and sort of sporty yet peppy look at the same time....maybe some cute pumps and a lil hat. Somtheing that screams 'here I AM!' in a classy yet kickey sort of way. Maybe something in a petite from from the Winter Line of... HEY! LEMME OUT OF HERE! I'm only INTERESTED in fashion, I am NOT like THAT!" yelled Leo.
"He is SO dangerous , Jonnykins" Rexa shivered, eying Leo.
"Darkstar is mean looking, but would never hurt the child. They adore him, although I have seen him rip people apart barehanded. And he looms like a dream. Nothing like a good loom to put the fear of JQB into someone." Bhrode admitted.
"So virile and manly and strong. Passionate, I can tell by looking at him" Ar'Resh added, eying Leo herself.
"Commander Darkstar does enjoy a certain..reputation amongst the ladies." Bhodre added, while glowering at Leo.
"He does? Oh yeah. . . He DOES! Purely in a 'Leo's side Kick' sort of clingey yet endearing way. I taught the little guy EVERYTHING he knows about everything..." Leo added, thoughtfully.
"Shut up, Streeley! you tubby pervert!" Bhrode snapped.
"Tubby Pervert? Is Commander Thomas in here too? Didn't see you Pal! Someone wave to him for me? How is Breen treating you? Is it true what they saw about blue balls and Breen winters? Huh? Is it?" Leo demanded, stretching to see down the line of cells.
"STREELEY!" Bhrode thundered.
"What? I thought Thomas was in this post! Everyone else is coming back. . . " Leo demanded.
"Ar'Resh! this is HIM! The Journalist! The one we used to read!" Rexa spoke in a hushed whisper.
"Kit Kate here too? Pahk yer Hovah Cah in Bahston Yahd. I could never understand her after six bottles of wine. Except the parts about 'Uncah leo, mahke me a woh-mahn!' THAT came through loud and clear." Leo muttered.
"Can't be! Leo Streeley is a Twelve Foot Tall Naucissian-Zeltorian hybrid, who shoots mental fireballs out of his ass!" Ar'resh replied.
"Fight the MAN! You can lock up my butt, and all the OTHER parts the Ladies Love, but you'll NEVER take away MY FREEEEEDOOOOMMM!!" Bellowed Leo.
"Actually, I can and have." gloated Bhrode.
"Oh. Right. Listen, about that. . . " Leo replied, looking around the Brig Cell again and sighing.
"Leo Streeley wrote that series 'I was a Net-Mail Order Bride' about the Silissian Miners!" Rexa added.
"I couldn't sit down for a week after that. Disguised myself TOO good." Leo interjected.
"You're LEO STREELEY!" The Aunties chorused, in awe.
"Where? oh yeah! Don't yell, or they will ALL want one." Leo muttered.
"You know this pervert?" thundered Bhrode.
"Yes Jonnykins, he is simply divine! He writes like a dream! I remember his coverage of the Kitarian Peace talks..." Rexa replied
" . . . where he disguised himself as a sex-bot to the Yridian delegate and got the scoop on the Yridians attempt to..."
". . .steal the Kitarian Sex-toy production monopoly!" Leo finished with a beam.
". . .trade Kitarian foodstuffs to Ferangal and cut out the Andorian middlemen." finished the Aunties with a frown.
"Oh yeah, that's what they WANTED you to think! It was really all about the dildos. " Leo replied.
Dead silence.
"What? It was. Dang it, that damn Iglom!" Leo insisted.
Dead Silence.
"It was! I'm not like that!" Leo insisted.
"Why is he in the Brig?" demanded Rexa.
"He is almost a hero!" insisted Ar'resh.
"He's a tubby pervert and an offense to my crew. He's saddled on us through some silly Deputy program, but I'll be double damned if I permit his malodorous..." Bhrode began.
"MALODOROUS! IS that somethign about my mother?" demanded Leo.
"No." chorused the Aunties.
"Oh. Okay then." Leo waved a limp hand in airy dismissal.
"Why ARE you in here . . ." cooed Rexa.
". . . Mr Streeley! Are you scooping someone? Investigating?" finished Ar'Resh.
"I'm in here because I am.. err.. investigating! As a Special Deputy! and.. errr... Journalist. yea! AND. . . I can get OUT of here! Watch! Any moment, some goatlicking dude is gonna arrange for me to be cloned!!" Ranted Leo.
"Goatlicking?" asked Rexa quizziclly.
"Cloned?" sniffed Ar'resh.
"It could happen. . . a stray neutron ray...some whale poop. . .it could happen... NOW! No wait... okay... NOW! wait... okay... I feel tingley! NOW! no? wait... NOW! Dammit.. where is that goatlicker? Okay... wait for it....." moaned Leo.
"I am taking the dog." intoned Major Bolivar from the door.
"DOG DOG DOG! What about ME? The fans wanna know! My adoring public is OUT there and I am in HERE! But the dog walks...well.. it's gotta walk or there's an accident, you know? But...but.. I mean. . . " Leo shouted.
"You deserve to be behind bars, Leo! You're not cloning yourself out of THIS one! I should have tossed you into jail two missions ago!" gloated Bhrode.
"Hey man, bad vibes! I'm like trying to... sleep here!" came another voice.
Everyone turned to see Dr Quick shamble out of Cell ten with a yawn.
He eyed the group.
They eyed him right back.
"Hey, why are you taking tours through my quarters? And where's my shag rug?" demanded Quick.
"This is my Brig." Bhrode answered. The Aunties tittered.
"No way!" replied Quick. Then he looked at Bhrode closer. "Hey! I know you! you're that dude... wait.. it'll come to me...Boy, am I hungry...Hey! I know you! You're that dude. . ."
"Hello Jebediah!" the Aunties giggled in unison.
"Hello my sweets... HEY! Hi! I rememeber you ladies! You're women, right? Yes, you are! Why are you in my quarters?" answered Quick.
"This is the Brig." Bhrode repeated.
"It is?" Quick peered around.
"Yes. And I'm taking the dog." Bolivar repeated, doing exactly that.
"What dog?" demanded Quick.
"Wait .. wait.. which of you guys called my Mother a dog? WHo do I gotta punch first?" demanded Leo.
Bolivar exits, a squirming Peckerwood under his arm.
"Whoah, that -was- a dog?" Quick demanded. "I thought I was seeing things. That is the problem with flashbacks, you never know WHICH hallucinations to believe. I wonder if anyone ever looked into a replacement for drugs, like we have Synthahol now. . . hmmmmmm. . . Synthadrug? Synthacrack? And why are there no recreational drugs in suppository form? And, where's my hairbrush?"
"And people call ME confusing!" groused Leo.
"Are you sure this is the Brig? I went to take a nap. . .and some Bolivain guy handed me a talking hairbrush. . . " Quick demanded, spinning in circles to see better.
"Let me show you Ladies the Security Command. You mentioned that you needed to see Victor on the planet later today, and I can't wait to leave this mudball." Bhrode insisted, ushering the Aunties out and leaving his two least-favourite people in the Universe together.
"groovy.. grey walls in a Brig!" Quick enthuesed. "I'd have done candy stripes, myself! Wait, I did do candy stripes. . . I think.. . ."
"Candy Stripes!" guffawed Leo. "Plaid is where it's at!"
"Groovy! Plaid! So righteously contrasting! It's a metaphor for Good and Evil interwoven in Men's Souls and viewed through an individual mindset by society's Id and Collective Ego! AND it hides dirt! I totally dig the way your mind works Little Fat guy!" Chattered Quick.
"You're cool! You're weird too, but in a cool way." beamed Leo.
"I dig you too. Gimmie a hug!" demanded Quick.
"hey hey HEY! Get outta here! No hugs unless you're a slut. You're...you know. . . one of them?" Demanded Leo with a shocked look.
"One of who?" asked Quick.
"THEM! you know... those guys... that hide out and stuff. . . THEM!" hissed Leo.
"Narcs? Where? I was holding it for a friend. . ." replied Quick.
"Not Narcs! THEM! You know, switchhitters!"
"A baseball player? I am a baseball player?"
"NO! That Sisko Baseball thing is SO overdone! BUckeroo Banzai my BUTT! One of them! THEM!" Hissed Leo.
"Dude, you're like totally confusing me, and that is HARD to do!" replied Quick. "Where is my hug?"
" Look! I'm NOT like that! Sure, you may hear rumours. . . but unless they're about me being a sex machine with the ladies, they're vicious lies. Even that holotape of me in a dress is a vile fabrication!" Leo sputtered.
"Spread the love, Little Fat Guy. Love will set you free." Repeated Quick, lowering the Containment Field.
"Errr...and all I gotta do is hug you? " replied Leo, eying freedom.
"Rightously. Love is good, man. Make love, not war." Quick answered.
Of course, just as Leo was gingerly exchanging a hug for his freedom, Raven came back into the brig.
"It's not what it looks like!" screeched Leo, jumping away from a blissfully tripping Quick.
"Have to go to the planet. You're coming with me. Bhrode's orders." Log grunted.
"What planet?" demanded Quick.
"lan'Jep?" brightened Leo.
"Whoah? LanJep? The Klingon Rissa? Cool!" declared Quick, heading for the Brig Replimat and trying to get it to beam him down. Amazingly enough, it worked.
"Yes. Desk is missing. We go investigate." grunted Raven with a scowl.
"Ok ookok. I can do this. Desk. Right. Missing. Got it. Okay. Klingn pleasure planet. Right. House of Payne. Drink specials. But first..." Leo chattered.
"No gun." Raven grunted, heading for the door.
"Come ON! Every great team has a gun! The Avengers! Gun! Rambo! Guns! Sigfried and Roy! Guns! Thelma and Louise! Guns guns guns!" Leo chattered.
"Abbot and Costello." grunted Raven.
"Who?" asked Leo, as the door closed behind them.
"[Grunt] No Gun."
"I never get a gun! Look, if I was packing a BIG gun in my pants, you'd be able to sleep better at night..." leo's voice disappeared and the brig doors closed.
Lieutenant Steve Irwin pokes his toussled head in the doors a moment later.
"Crikey! They've got me Peckerwood!"
For those of you who liked this thread on the original GALAXY. . .
Posted here with the permission of the author and of Joe Ammo, our fearless felching Leader (who simply LOVES NPC's!)
Arel sat in meditation on the floor.
Actually, she was just sitting cross-legged on the floor. Her thoughts were no where near meditative. She felt like beating someone to a bloody pulp. This was nothing new; she usually felt like committing acts of violence every second of her life.
Only this time she REALLY felt like beating someone to a bloody pulp.
No, not someone. Sebastian Davoust.
Arel couldn't really sort out the source of her anger there. Was it that he had abandoned her in the shuttle, leaving her to feel stupid(Arel hated to feel stupid) or that he hadn't told her about his daughter and ex fiancée, which was almost like lying (Arel hated to be lied to) or that she had let herself be vulnerable for starting the relationship in the first place (Arel hated to feel vulnerable) which in turn made her feel stupid(Arel REALLY hated to feel stupid)...
She wasn't sure but somehow she knew it was all his fault.
Arel made a half-hearted attempt at a meditation chant she had picked up somewhere, then growled, spat out some swear words, and layed down on the floor. She looked up and could see the package through the glass table.
She frowned. The package had come yesterday, after her talk with Sebastian and her shift, which had seemingly lasted forever. Samantha Widdlestein had sent her another fairy-tale holodeck program, probably something in the spirit of Valentines Day with love and birds and dopey-eyed princesses.
Arel was SO not in the mood for that.
Still...she had to admit she was curious. Samantha always created interesting holodeck programs and she could use the entertainment.
"Fuck it." Arel said and got up off the floor. She picked up the program and, after a moments thought, her mek'leth, and stomped out of her quarters to Holodeck Four.
A large assortment of flying women whizzed passed Arel, each in various shades of grey. This made it easy to notice the three other women, one in pink, one in green, and a chubby little one in blue. They were bickering among themselves, especially the ones dressed in pink and blue, about the importance of the correct color wedding dress, whether it was better to surround a castle with roses or petunias, and why on earth people insisted on putting fruit in their cottage cheese.
"Okay." Arel said.
She followed after them, down a yellow brick road that she thought was stolen from another story, and towards a castle with a neon sign suspended in the air that read "HOME OF SLEEPING BEAUTY- OR SLEEPING AREL, WHICHEVER YOU PREFER."
Arel groaned as she saw that Samantha had programmed the castle with a number of stairs before the doorway.
"Computer, scene two." Arel ordered.
"Unable to comply." the computer chirped. "Parameters set restricting access."
The neon sign floated down next to her. "EXERCISE IS GOOD FOR YOU, CHUBBY."
Arel growled and began climbing the steps.
The tiny room was crowded with people, most notably the three colorful fairies and couple with crowns on their heads. They were all encircling a fancy looking basket-crib in the center of the room. Curious, Arel pushed her way past the people and peeked inside.
"HI!!!!" Samantha Widdlestein yelled from inside the crib.
"ACK!" Arel exclaimed, jumping back a few feet.
"Nice, very nice." the interactive version of Sam grumbled as she climbed out of the crib.
She looked about, apparently pleased with herself, as she straightened her dress. "Not a bad job." she commented "But I knew it would be great. Mummy says I have a gift."
Arel refrained from comment as she came back over. Samantha's elusive mom was a touchy subject; mainly Arel had never met her yet knew she couldn't stand the woman. "So, who's this Sleeping Beauty person?"
Samantha rolled her eyes and gave her the 'you're hopeless' look Arel was used to by now. "She's the one who falls asleep for a hundred years until a prince kisses her awake."
Arel snorted. "Oh, yeah. The dumb one who decides to start testing sharp implements with her fingers."
Sam ignored her. "This is the beginning of the tale, when Sleeping Beauty is first born. Her parents forget to invite the evil fairy to the celebration-"
"Can't fault them there." Arel commented.
" -and she gets mad and curses the baby, saying that one day she'll prick her finger on a spinning wheel and fall into a coma. And yes, I KNOW, Arel. " Samantha said before Arel could open her mouth. "A curse is not as effective as a mek'leth."
Arel pouted slightly. She was actually going to suggest that the fairy should have sent a dragon or something to roast the princess.
The air darkened and a puff of smoke appeared. The evil fairy stepped from the smoke into the room.
Arel gave Sam an amused look. "You're going to have to stop using Galaxy personnel. You're going to get in trouble one of these days."
Rebecca Von Ernst (aka the evil fairy), dressed in long flowing robes of purple and black and a strange jester-like black hat, gave a high pitched laugh. "You thought you could have a party and not invite me, you no-good noodle heads! Well, I'll show you! I curse Sleeping Beauty to one day prick her finger on a spinning wheel and fall into a coma! And lose all her math skills too!"
"How horrible." Arel said dryly.
"Isn't it though!" Samantha exclaimed seriously.
"Where are we?" Arel asked. She looked around at the surrounding trees.
"In the forest." Samantha answered. "The King and Queen ordered all the spinning wheels in the kingdom to be burned and that Sleeping Beauty should go live with the three good fairies until her sixteenth birthday when she gets to return home."
"Nifty. And I'm outside because...."
"You're picking flowers, singing, and about to meet the man of your dreams."
Arel was about to comment- mainly that singing was not a part of her vocabulary and on romance and men in general- when she heard the sound of a horse approaching. Great, she thought to herself.
Her mouth dropped as Sebastian rode up on a white horse. Her eyes then narrowed.
"I got his image off of a file- " Samantha began but was interrupted as Arel strode over to the horse, pulled him off it, and backhanded him.
"AH-REL" Samantha protested. "You can't just beat up the man of your dreams!"
"Watch me." Arel said as she hit him again.
"Why do you ALWAYS have to be so difficult!" Sam whined, stamping her feet. "I go to the trouble of making you these programs, because you said you wanted to learn more about fairy tales, and I make it understandable and easy to follow. But no, you have to argue with me and do things your way and....AH-REL, DON'T YOU EVEN THINK ABOUT USING THAT MEK'LETH!!!!"
Arel sat in one chair, deeply unsatisfied. Since Samantha hadn't been expecting her to start beating upon her 'beloved,' the holo-Sebastian hadn't been programmed to bleed. He sat there on the other chair with a fixed look of adoration on his face. Bastard.
"Now Arel." Samantha said from her chair. "When Sebastian left you in that shuttle, leaving you to sit there in misery, to wonder if those tragic days of spinsterhood had returned and that you were deficient in some way and unattractive-" She stopped as Arel glared at her. "How did that make you feel?"
"Pissed." Arel said flatly.
"Okay, alright. Pissed is good." Sam said with an overdramatic flair. "So you sat there, pissed, and wondered what went wrong- was it something you said, something you did, were you sexually unsatisfying, did a Targ eat half your brain as a child-"
"Fuck it." Arel said and flew at Sebastian again.
"Well, at least I feel better." Arel commented as they climbed the stairs once more.
"Oh, I'm SO happy." Samantha snapped. The interactive hologram had decided that it would be better if Arel and the 'Prince' weren't in the same scene for awhile.
They made their way towards a room high in the castle and opened the door.
"I thought you said all the wheels had been destroyed."
"Well, there has to be drama, doesn't there? Apart from your psychotic attempts to mutilate your boyfriend, that is." Sam said acidly.
Arel ignored her and walked toward the spinning wheel. She touched the needle and looked at Sam. The girl gave her a dirty look.
"Oh, all right!" Arel snapped. She put the back of her hand to her forehead, rolled her eyes, and dropped to the floor.
"Not bad." Sam said grudgingly.
Evil Rebecca appeared out of nowhere, cackled, and then disappeared again.
Once again, they were enveloped in pink fog, like the time they did the Snow White tale. " I was unsure of what to do while you're asleep for a hundred years." Sam explained. "I suppose I could have programmed something with all the roses overtaking the castle but I thought that was a little overdramatic."
This coming from Samantha?, Arel thought incredulously.
"This is fine." Arel replied as she sat down. She was beginning to feel depressed now and a bit, only a bit mid you, guilty for beating up on the holographic version of her boyfriend.
"You really like him, don't you?" Sam asked.
"Yeah." Arel replied. "I don't know why. He's absolutely hopeless in battle, usually says the wrong things to people and gets hurt for it, and I think he secretly likes romance holo-novels."
"Awww..." Samantha cooed. "You really DO like him. You HAVE to name your first child after me."
"What? Annoying Smith?" I don't think that has the right ring to it." Arel smirked.
Samantha grunted. "Doesn't the child get the man's last name?"
"Sure" Arel replied easily. "When I'm dead."
Arel watched out the window as the holographic Sebastian was about to fight a fiery dragon. The three fairies, flew by his side. Each now had defined faces.
"To win...the...princess..." Electra Reese, the green fairy began.
"Noodles!" Rebecca Von Ernst exclaimed. Apparently, Sam had had a change of heart concerning the identity of the evil fairy. "Y..yyyoouuu haave too.." the woman in the blue costume stuttered.
The pink fairy smiled and pretended to strangle herself.
"Since when did the Galaxy become the home for women with speech impediments?" Arel asked out loud.
A large cloud of smoke formed and John Q. Bhrode stepped forward, cigar in hand.
Arel laughed. This was probably the worst version she had seen of him yet. For starters, the black and purple robes were a bit small, the Captain was showing off a bit of leg, and the jester-hat was a bit large. His eyes glowered behind two puff balls attached to the costume.
"What did he do now?" Arel asked Sam.
"I need an excuse?" Samantha asked.
Evil Bhrode looked at the dragon. "Kill that," he said, gesturing to the approaching Sebastian. "Or I'll ship your worthless bones to Breen, after I skin you for my new pair of boots."
Dragon vs. Sebastian, well, that was promising, Arel thought. She sat by the window, wishing she had some popcorn. Half of her was rooting for Sebastian and part of her knew she would take great pleasure in watching him fry.
"What's this I have to do now?" Arel yawned. The battle had lasted sometime, mainly because she kept altering the scene- sometimes giving the Evil Bhrode a bigger dragon, sometimes taking away Sebastian's sword.
Finally, she allowed him to win.
"He's going to come up here and kiss you awake, so you have to lay on the bed." Sam told her.
Arel laid on the bed and grimaced at its softness. She could hear the sound of armored feet clanking their way up the stairs. Samantha went to hide in the corner. Arel frowned.
The door opened and the dashing holo-Sebastian entered. Quietly, he snuck up to the bed, roses in hand, and slowly bent down to kiss her. It was a perfect moment...which was broken as his head quickly snapped back as Arel punched him in the nose.
"Sorry," Arel told both of the holo characters. "I just had to get that out of my system."
Samantha sighed.
"Captain's Log: Hours after having finally departed from the Klingon resort of Ianjep, we have recieved a cryptic and somewhat fragmented message across subspace frequencies. I have brought to bear all the rescourses of this vessel in an effort to decypher the aforementioned communique and I am confident that this mystery will be unraveled shortly so that proper action can be taken, if needed."
Captain Brhode scowled as he strode back onto the bridge. Commander Darkstar, a few steps behind him, took up his position and clasped his hands behind his back - looming as he usually did.
"I want answers and I want them now. Numbers One and Two...Report!" the gray haired elder statesman of the starship commanded.
The diminutive Rebecca Von Ernst looked across the room at Lysander before speaking. "At this time, Sir...we have nothing conclusive."
The vein on the Captain's forehead began to throb. He sat back down in his chair and breathed deeply, letting the already uncomfortable silence linger a bit longer.
"Let me see if I understand this correctly. Right this very moment we are hovering in space aboard the most sophisticated piece of Federation technology, the brain child of thousands of the free worlds greatest thinkers...and Dr. Quick, with access to one of the most advanced computers of modern day and a vast data base, through which we can even find out what color a Romulan's panties are...all with just a few keystrokes..and none of this is even remotly helpful in translating a broken message recieved over our communications line. Is that correct?" the old man asked.
Lysander shrugged.
"Yes, that's what I thought." the Captain said drumming his fingers on the arm rest of his chair. "Mr. Gelf..replay the message."
Once again the garbled, static filled transmission echoed across the bridge. Afterwards, Brhode steepled his fingers and focused his attention on the stars upon the viewscreen. "One, Two..give me your best guess as to what you think that message says."
"Well...it sounds to me like it is a distress signal. You can hear faintly. It sounds like 'Help me, Obi Wan.'." the Centurian said.
Rebecca shook her head. "I disagree. In all honesty, it sounds like it's saying 'Texas, home of the Alamo.'. Like maybe an ancient satallite that Earth used to send up to introduce other life forms to our culture.
Lysander laughed. "Your people sent up satellites with thier state songs?!?! I'm amazed you have never yet been invaded. What is the Minnesota state song by the way?"
"I COULD GIVE A GORN'S GONAD ABOUT STATE SONGS! I SIMPLY WANT TO KNOW WHAT THAT MESSAGE SAYS!" the Captain bellowed. "HELM..WHAT DO YOU THINK?"
"It kind of sounds like a recipie for some sort of Bolian cassarole, Sir." Jeromy Savoie said.
"SCIENCES..REPORT!"
"I don't know. It almost sounds like some sort of chant: We're fierce, were feminist, and we're in your face." Dakota Harris said.
Brhode's frown deepened. He glanced over to the hulking Indian Security officer. "Meat Truck, do you have anything to add?"
Darkstar just shook his head slowly and folded his arms across his chest.
The Captain closed his eyes in disgust. "Lt. Black, your turn to add to the insanity. What does that message sound like to you? I suppose you are going to say it sounds like an infomercial for a food chopper or some such?"
Lt. Black looked down from the Tactical arch.
"Actually it sounds like a call for help..." he started, "from someone who has injured themself on a food chopper."
"Unbelievable." Brhode said. "Well, acording to my crack staff, that is a distress call by a vote of 2 to 1. We shall procede under the assumption that is valid - if only because I do so hope to get the chance to shoot something or someone. Just to vent my frustrations at this very moment. Frustrations I am keeping well restrained right now, only so that Counselor Dallas does not tell me that I have anger management issues."
Karyn supressed a smile as Brhode stood.
"Helm, plot an intercept coarse. Tactical keep your eyes open. Alert Medical. Tell them we just may have need of thier services. Darkstar, tell Corgan to get the troops ready and have your brother put his Marines on standby. If this turns out to be something, I dont want to be caught with my pants down."
"Coarse laid in. Orion space, sir." stated the Helm.
"Just lovely. Warp 5...Engage." Brhode ordered sitting back down in his chair and crossing his legs.
NRPG: Just to give everyone a little heads up, Brandon was a touch tied up with school issues (Imagine a guy trying to get an education! Sheesh! The nerve!) and asked that I move things along a little.
My next post will be Friday, and we will learn just what exactly the cause of the signal is. Till then, feel free to post about your department preping themselves for the unknown. There is going to be something for everyone this mission in just a post or two.
Corran looked over his plate, out the large bay windows that were part of what made Ten-Forward such a popular spot of the ship. He'd been on Galaxy for nearly a week, and the ship had broken orbit with lanjep that very morning, heading for destinations unknown. Well, unknown to the young Trill Operations Officer, anyways. Still, he had to admit that he enjoyed the view. He'd not met many people yet, only Brianna, who he'd known since the Academy, and that Dakota woman and her child, who they'd flown in with. Them and his boss, Lieutenant Geluf. That was about it.
He speared another bite of his fried komec - a Trill poultry similar to terran chicken - and mused over the the possible destinations.
'Maybe we're off to bust some smugglers.' Vorin's voice crept inside his head. 'Might be good to see some of the old boys.'
Corran sighed. Of all the voices in his head, why did the insufferable smuggler Vorin have to be the most persistently talkative one?
Ella looked out across Ten Forward, but didn't really see any of the people. A darkened night sky filled her vision instead, that and a filthy alley and the sounds of fists striking bone. She felt like laying her head on the table. Ever since she had come back from lanJep it had been like this, a constant struggle against her past.
She could forget every now and then- at work, among friends- Indigo, Curits, and Victor, but otherwise...She just wished Daro would write her back!
Ella needed a distraction. Making herself focus, she noticed a man, a Trill, that appeared to be talking to himself, although he was barely moving his lips. Ella enjoyed people watching; lanJep had been an interesting experience in observation.
Seing as how reason wasn't getting Vorin to shut up, Corran smacked himself upside the head before he thought about it.
This man would do.
Ella eyes widened and she stopped herself from laughing outloud. Good choice there, she told herself. The young Trill's spots flushed in embarrasment, as he noted the dark-haired female officer watching him.
Ella smiled slightly, sorry she had been caught, and turned her attention back to her dinner plate.
Resolving to speak more with people that *didn't* live inside of his head, Corran picked his own plate up and headed over to where the young woman was sitting. "Is this.. umn.. is this seat taken?" he asked, still embarassed.
Ella shook her head and then indicated the seat with her hand. She pulled out her PADD and then typed a quick message. *NOPE, ALL YOURS. I'M ELLA GREY. I DON'T SPEAK, SO DON'T THINK I'M BEING RUDE."
"How refreshing. Someone as strang as I am." he remarked. "I'm sorry, that was.. rude wasn't it?" he asked, spots blushing again. "I"m Corran, Corran Rex."
Ella felt her lips twitch in an unrehearsed smile. *WHY THANK YOU, CORRAN. I THINK*
"It was a compliment, in a roundabout way." he repiled, smiling. "If.. uh.. if you don't mind me asking, why don't you talk? Just born mute?"
She raised her eyebrows *A TRAGIC MISHAP OF MY YOUTH* she typed and rolled her eyes. *DO YOU ALWAYS DISAGREE WITH YOURSELF SO STRONGLY?* Ella tapped her forehead.
Corran, if possible, managed to only look more embarrased. "Well, ermn. Yes, actually."
Ella tilted her head. She noticed again the markings of his species along the side of his face. *ARE YOU JOINED?* She guessed that multiple perspectives bouncing around in her head would make her want to smack herself too.
"Yes... it's part of the reason I ... disagree with myself so strongly, as you put it." he replied. "I've got a condition...my symbiont is very old, at times, my past hosts sometimes... take over, I guess is the word for it. I can usually keep it internalized, but it makes for a lit of voices up here."
Corran stated, tapping the side of his head. "Humans have something like it, I think... Muliple Personality Disorder, or something. Excapt in my case, they're not creations of my psyche, but other people actually living in my head, more or less. Gets a bit confusing at times."
The counselors must love you, Ella thought. *THAT MUST BE DIFFICULT, I COULDNT IMAGINE. JUST MY OWN THOUGHTS ARE ENOUGH OF A NUISSANCE* *
"It is, sometimes. My last host, Vorin, is the one who speaks up the most. He was an almost stereotypical smuggler chief. Hence the smacking. Esanza was a Doctor who, ironically enough, came up with the first basic treatments for my condition. She comes out to play whenever I'm in Sickbay, usually. The Docs don't like her much... she tells them what to do." Corran told her with a smile. He was beginning to asjust to this Ella's mode of communication, though he wondered what sort of childhood trauma had caused her to give up speaking. "Course, I usually think that it's funny as all hell. That's a lot about me and my...selves... though." he amended, worried he was talking too much much. "What about you, Lieutenant Ella Grey? What's your story?"
Ella's fingers paused over the keys as she thought about her response. There were a number of ways to respond to the question, she just wasnt sure which one was appropriate. *NO STORY, REALLY. I JUST LIKE BEING DIFFICULT, TALKING IS SO OVERRATED.*
Corran smiled. That was something his inner prankster simply had to respect. "I think there's a number of people that could learn to talk a lot less - and save the rest of us the aggravation."
Ella smirked. *I THINK YOURE THE FIRST PERSON IN A LONG TIME TO COME RIGHT OUT AND ASK ME. AND NO, I'M NOT OFFENDED.* But I'm not going to answer you either, she thought.
"No point skittering around a topic, I've always thought. Saves time, at the least." the Trill replied. Strangely, talking - if such was the right term - with this woman was enough to keep his head quiet, at least for a while. The young man resolved to think on that idea some more later. "So, you're wearing gold. Security, Ops, or Engineering?" he asked.
*ENGINEERING. I LIKED TO TAKE THINGS APART AS A CHILD. DROVE MY PARENTS CRAZY. WHAT ABOUT YOU? HOW DOES ONE GO ABOUT CHOOSING A CAREER WHEN THEY HAVE SEVERAL LIFETIMES WORTH OF OPINIONS GUIDING THEM?*
"Very carefully." he replied, and speared off the last bite of komec. "Corran - sorry, I was always good with computers. I had planned on being a private sector programmer before I was joined. After the joining process, though, I suddenly had all these memories of lifetimes spent in space, and there didn't seem to be anywhere else for me to go. Starfleet just seemed like the place."
Ella looked confused.
"Well, for example, Mekaela, Rex's...third host. She was an officer in the Trill Expeditionary Fleet. She made first contact between the Trill and Betazed, she spent almost her whole life in space. Had a love for exploration that's still runs strong through Rex, even eight hosts later." he remarked.
*SEEMS LIKE IT'D BE STRANGE. LIKE IF SHE HAD A HATRED OF..OH, PEANUT BUTTER AND JELLY THAT YOU WOULD TOO.*
"Well.." Corran started, and paused again. "Hey, how'd you do that so easily?"
Ella tilted her head.
"Change the subject off of you." Rex stated, fixing a firm, faux-serious stare on the young human woman.
She grinned. *I THINK ITS CALLED EVADE AND MANUEVER AND IM A NATURAL. WELL, ITS PROBABLY MORE LIKE A PRACTICED SKILL UNLIKE YOUR HOSTS MEMORIES...HEY, I'M CURIOUS. DO YOU INSTANTLY GET ALL THESE MEMORIES OR IS IT MORE LIKE THEY SLOWLY COME TO YOU?*
"Pretty much all at once, but that's one of the things the Symbiosis Commission trains you for."
*MUST BE ONE HELL OF A HEADACHE THE FIRST WEEK* Ella typed.
"You have no i-" he started, then cut himself off. "Hey, you did it again. Just because I've got extra voices in my head doesn't mean I'm easily distracted."
*SORRY, COULDNT HELP MYSELF.* Ella responded. *YOU CAN HAVE THREE QUESTIONS, IF THAT WILL MAKE YOU HAPPY.*
"'Allright." the Trill replied, and leaned back in his chair.
'Hey, Kid, ask her if she wears tho..'the lecherous old smuggler's thought's intruded on Corran's.
'Shut up, Vorrin.'Corran thought, in typical annoyance.
"Okay, Why Starfleet?"
Ella also sat back, but gave the question little thought before she typed in her reply. *I WANTED TO BE AN ENGINEER, MY PARENTS WANTED ME TO BE A LADY. IT WAS THE BEST WAY TO GET WHAT I WANTED AND THUMB MY NOSE AT THEM AT THE SAME TIME. THAT'S ONE.*
"Healthy disrespect of authority at a young age. Okay, I get that." he commented. "Let's see... number two.. " he paused, considering his questions. "Allright, I'll make it easy. If I was to ask the real reason that you don't talk, would you tell me? I have to admit - you've piqued my curiosity."
Ella raised an eyebrow. *YES*
Corran raised his own eybrow in response, signalling for her to elaborate.
*YES, I'D TELL YOU THE REASON I DONT TALK, ALTHOUGH I EXPECT YOU WOULDNT UNDERSTAND. THAT'S TWO.*
He gave a look of false hurt, pantomiming being shot in the chest. "Oh, i wouldn't understand. You wound me, Ms. Grey."
She gave him a look of mock-sympathy. *THATS THE WAY THE COOKIE CRUMBLES, CORRAN*
"Fair enough, Ella." he replied. He had to admit, he was enjoying himself a great deal. Corran hadn't met anyone this interesting in quite some time.
Well, outside his own head, at least.
"Allright, Ms. Grey. So, the final question - and you probably see this one coming a few kilometers away - What's the real reason?"
She typed in the word, leaned forward and crooked her finger at him as if she were going to whisper something to him. Ella passed the PADD across the table to him. She smiled and mouthed 'Nice to meet you' before getting up from the table and leaving ten-Forward.
*CONTROL* it read.
Corran looked at the PADD, read the single word response, laughed.
Suprisingly, in some strange way, he did understand.
A young-looking ensign looked at the Commander on the bridge. The Commander tapped at his combadge.
"Skipper, we will arrive at the resort in 20 minutes." Sounding over the badge, Cpt. Savage sounded bugged and a bit surprised.
"Wow, that quick? Ok, I'm almost done here. On my way. And get Lt. Williams on the bridge."
"Aye skipper." He tapped on his badge again with a little anger and slight disgust "Madre Mia--Lt. Williams. Please report to the bridge."
Les walked onto the bridge. He saw a crew at the absolute peak of its performance, and they were predomininantly commanded by at least an Eccentric, and at most a total madman. Also it was strange to see the crew at this efficiancy since a major party had been thrown the night before.
10 minutes later.
The Commander looked a little strained by his captains antics. He tapped his combadge again. "Skipper. What are you doing?" Savage again sounded surprised. "What! Oh, yea. Sorry. Ok, the crew is authorised to beam down at their discretion. Is Williams on the bridge."
"Skip, were aren't there yet. And yes."
"Oh. Sorry, still a little messed up from last night."
"Sir. Don't worry about it. But how did you get that ale." "Thats none of your business."
About a minute later, Savage stepped out of the turbolift like a titan. His ten-gallon hat was nearly knocked off by top of the doorway.
(We now know the First officer as Cmdr. Marco Savali, and the Second officer/Cheif engineer as Cmdr. Alexi Aalim Romanov. Tactical officer as Lt.Cmdr. Nick Marciano, and Cheif Medical officer as Lt.Cmdr. Misha Volkv)
Romanov stepped out of the turbolift. He was a mountain of a man. Infact, alot of the critical jefferys tubes were redesigned and enlarged at the last refit by him. Les had only seen him once before. A 6'8" 240lb cheif engineer. Go Figure. Apparently, Les had heard that Alexi was spaceborne, but definitly not a fleet brat. He was born aboard the USS Krasnaya (Excelsior class), a predomininatly Russian crewed vessel. His thick russian accent tells alot about the enviroment aboard the Krasnaya.
Then theres Marco Savali. Another Spaceborne officer. Of direct mexican decent. Hot tempered, but more along the lines of a Latin Kirk, or Riker. Easily pissed off.
Lt.Cmdr. Nick Marciano, the tactical officer sat precariously at his post, since Savage was a much better tactical officer than he ever was and liked to sometimes, "Bend the odds in our favor." Despite being a hardass Brooklyn resident, he is desperatly trying to live up to his captain.
Not all of the bridge is so totally disciplined though. Misha was sitting in his little chair bent over the back of it asleep. Snoring. Loudly. Savage casually walked over to his Russian friend and pinched his nostrels. With a snort and a gag, Misha awoke.
"Captain. Please....romulan ale."
"Get the hell outta here Misha. And contact me when you sober up. You will be staying aboard a few extra days. Doing odd jobs." Janitorial work. Misha got up and grumpily wandered out, mumbling in russian.
"I heard that Misha. Don't think I don't know what I said." Waiting for the turblift to close, Alexi put his 2 cents in. "Skipper, I didn't know you spoke russian."
"I don't." With that, Alexi let out one of his hearty signature laughs. Some of the kids say it sounds like Santa Claus, until he lets out a swear word or two. "You really think that was funny?"
"To be honest sir. No." He let out another, yet Slightly less sarcastic.
Les continued to stand off on the side. A vicarious stranger. In his opinion, these were the only navy boys worth their weight in gold. The perfect balance of Humanity and service. There were of a tiny group of people to ever break his icy armor. But who was he to think this. His Corps days had been long over. He had sold his left eye, and more importantly his soul, to Starfleet Intellegence. He had but one thought left to console him. Something that a one Cnl. Anderson had told him. "In the Land of the Blind, the one-eye man is king." Les never truely understood it. Not yet at least. But If Anderson was the one-eyed man, who was Les Williams.
"Les. Come over here. You'll be leaving soon. I want to ask you something."
"Yes Captain."
"Please, call me Skipper. You've been here long enough."
"Skipper."
"Think about your descision a little more. Stay here aboard the Sturmovik. I could use a man like you."
"Sorry skipper. It is not my destiny to join this crew. But we will meet again."
"Yea, because according to my schedule, after I drop you and some other crew going on shoreleave off, I'll be back in 4 days. Apparently I'm needed elsewhere..." He raised his voice slightly."...and will be needing my main bridge crew." A few groans were heard.
"Just kidding. But I will still need you Marciano." Marciano had visible signs of stress, but was ready to serve his captain.
"Yea skip. I assume you want to do more tactical drills?"
"You read my mind. Don't worry, you'll get some time off after were done. Infact I may just 'Confine you to quarters.' The Best training is when you are rested. The real training is with stress already there." Marciano smiled sheepishly.
Les was standing on the transporter pad when a cadet came dashing in with a suitcase. "You forgot this Leftenant."
"I was wondering where that was. But if you were a marine, you'd have been here a few minutes earlier." The cadet looked at Les off, then suffered his scowl. He saluted nervously and scurried off. "Lt. Lay off the kid. I guess Until we meet again Les....Marco, whats that french saying?" With a sign and a voice of additude.
"Au Revior, skipper."
The blue clutter of light could be seen within main building of the resort. Les had a few hours downtime before getting aboard the Galaxy and getting settled in. The resort was no Vegas, but it would do.
=/\= =/\=
Les wandered around deck 10 of the Galaxy. Out of his own cold arrogance, he had refused an escort, thinking he could find his way to his quarters. He had found his way to Ten-Forward, but was completely lost otherwise. It was only the second time he had ever been on a Galaxy class. Worst of all, his baggage was already in his quarters, and he had seen ferengi. Les does NOT like ferengi.
off: Does anyone else think its funny their last names rhyme? -Mek
Ella passed by the Chief's office, noticed the new Chief inside. Things had been so hectic lately, getting back from lanJep and after the whole Defiant fiasco, that she hadn't had a chance to introduce herself. She pulled out her PADD, entered the greeting, and then knocked on the door frame.
Brianna was looking over the notes left by the former chief engineer and found her writing, barely legible. Bringing her hand up tossed her french braided hair over her shoulder and down her back, then heard someone knocking on the door frame of her door. "Yes, come in." She said, though she didn't look up until the person approached the desk.
Ella gave the woman the computer PADD. *HI, I'M ELLA GREY.*
When she saw the friendly greeting, Anna couldn't help but grin and look up to meet the woman's face. "Oh yes, you are my assistant. I remember reading over your file." Brianna said. "I have one rule in engineering, I'd rather work with friends then a mess of enemies. So you have permission to address me as Brianna, or Anna." She said extending her hand to the other woman.
Ella smiled and shook her hand. She sat down, wrote on the computer PADD, and passed it to her. *ALL RIGHT, ANNA.*
"Now that we've got that out of the way, I do have a question." Brianna said then gestured to a chair. "Is every man on this ship complete and utter jerks?"
Ella considered. *NOT ALL OF THEM. I KNOW A FEW GOOD ONES. MOSTLY, ITS THE MARINES YOU HAVE TO LOOK OUT FOR. I THINK THEY'RE THE REINCARNATION OF PURE EVIL. OF COURSE, THE CAPTAIN IS AN EX MARINE, SO HE'S NO PICNIC EITHER.*
"God has sent me to hell then." Brianna said then smiled and sat down. "A ship of male chauvinist pokers on a power trip."
*WHERE WERE YOU BEFORE HERE?* Ella inquired.
Crossing her legs, "I was stationed on the Cairo, under command of Captain Tacoma. Good ship, good crew." Anna replied. "I was the assistant chief engineer there, they offered me a my own department." Brianna then reached over and took a drink of her raktijeno. "I met a marine and the holier then thou diplomatic officer. Between you and me, I already don't like him especially."
Ella smirked. *AND HE PROBABLY DOESN'T LIKE YOU VERY MUCH EITHER. I THINK HE THINKS OF HUMANS AS AN INFECTIOUS DISEASE OR SOMETHING*
Nodding. "How about giving me a run down of who I need to watch out for here in Engineering. I really don't want to get into a fight with the Captain on my first week."
*EVERYONE ON THE MIDNIGHT SHIFT, IM AFRAID. THERE ARE A FEW ON THE NIGHT SHIFT AS WELL.*
Brianna shook her head, "Lovely, very lovely. You bring such wonderful news on my first full day." Anna replied then grinned.
*WELCOME ONBOARD, ANNA* Ella wrote and then smiled.
"Yeah, thanks. Suppose we'd better check the warp core since we just jumped to warp. Wonder what new things were chasing after now?"
Ella shrugged and followed the new chief over to the warp core.
Opening the folder on his newest intelligance operative Saladin had to repress a sigh, he had an implant that allowed his left eye to operate as a tricorder.
What sort of damndable fool would allow himself to be mutilated for some Starfleet Bureacrat.
To make matters worse, one bioscan would show it and then he would be in a world of trouble.
So that put him out of any undercover work, that and his pure combat forces background with no cryptography skills, and no actual intelligance gathering experience, all he was a soldier, which wasn't needed in a Starship intelligance office.
Tossing the file on his desk he examined the grooves before making a decision.
=To Lieutenant Lester Williams= =Fr Bvt Maj Saladin Bolivar=
Your new assignment is overnight watch cryptography intercept 0000-0800 deck 22 Cryptoshack. Please be prompt.
=Message ends=
Perfect, that would give him time to be prepared in how to read, anaylize and prioritise intercepts, which was more important then being able to fire a phaser straight.
Les thought to himself as he sat staring at a screen filled with cryptography information. All of which he could understand. Col. Anderson made sure to train Les himself. The room was black save for the screen. Actually a few thoughts were goin through his head. First was that security officer that showed him to his quarters. Second was the damn ferengi creeping around. The Main thought was that he would have to get in touch with Col. Anderson to authorize Major Bolivar clearance to full knowledge of the inner workings of his implant. It was obvious why he was stuck here for a reason.
A PADD lay nearby, a letter shown on it. An old friend and former superior officer had found him.
MESSAGE To: 1Lt. L. Willaims
From: Brigadier General Martin Y. Solace(Ret.)
Finally found you old man. I see you got aboard the USS Galaxy. Nice work, it's pretty hard to get aboard the Galaxy these days. JUST KIDDING! I don't understand why you got involved with Starfleet Intellegence, more importantly, Col. Anderson. I know that you were going to be relieved of duty within the week but I really don't trust him. Something is off about him. Those sunglasses are erie. I see he has you wearing them too. They look better on you. As for the deadeye implant, its an interesting device. Apparently it can't **(Security Filter. Starfleet Intellegence.)**
Well, if I'm right, that last part of the message was intercepted and that last part was censored. Ever since these hawks have been in control, Intell has been like the CIA of the 20th-21st century United States. Whats the matter with me, I must be getting old, telling you this nonsense you already know. Well Chappy, my dog, is barking I'd better end this and let him out. One more thing before I go though, Get in touch with you parents. Your father has recently contacted me. Please. Do it for them. It wasn't your fault. Thats an order soldier.
==*End Message*==
Les was thinking about his past. His pain. His brother. His life.
Suddenly his PADD beeped. He picked it up and read the transmission that lit it up.
SECURE MESSAGE To: 1Lt. Lester Williams
From: F-Col. Lawrence Anderson
I will contact you via real-time transmission tommorow at 1800 hours sharp.
I have information pertaining to your brother.
==*End Message*==
A look of hope entered Les' face. "Could he be alive?"
He calmed down a bit. His cold semi-scowl returned. "Not a chance. But the possibilty is intriuging." "Sir?" Les turned around quickly grabbing his reading glasses. "What! What is it?" "You were talking." "Oh. I was thinking allowed. Now, anyhting else?" "Your shift is up. If I may make a suggestion?" "Go ahead." "Get some sleep and get used to the shift." A slight sign of anger crept into Les' face, but it quickly left. He picked up his PADD and downloaded the data he scanned for his report to Major Bolivar. "I don't sleep much." Les quickly got up and put on his glasses, so his implant would be hidden from view when he stepped out of the darkness of the room. Walking to the door, he noticed the sargeant watching him. Without turning, "Go to your post sargeant."
Les decided he would get a drink, he headed straight for Ten-Forward.
==/\==
"Son of a bitch," Jeremy muttered, his eyes focused on a console deep in the bowels of deck 36. "Lieutenant Savoie to Engineering," he said, tapping his com badge, "I need someone to come down to Main Deflector control and take a look at some sensor modules."
With things a little slow at the moment, Jeremy had run some intense diagnostics and simulation routines with the ship's navigational systems. Repeatedly, some anomalous results pointed to something not being as it should with the main deflector, so he decided to investigate. His initial review seemed to support his suspicions, but he would need someone from engineering to confirm and fix the problem.
"Aye, aye sir." came the reply. "Lt. Grey will be there shortly."
"Stupid ship," the chief helmsman muttered again. He hated having to deal with technological foul-ups. "If I wanted to deal with this kind of shit I'd have become a mechanic," he said out loud.
Ella arrived about five minutes later. She noted the lieutenant and the console he was scowling at. She walked over, set down her kit, and took out the computer PADD. *WHAT'S THE PROBLEM?* she typed and passed the PADD over. She took the liberty of beginning her examination before he could respond.
For a second, Jeremy stared at the PADD in his hand. What was this chick's problem? "Uh . . . something's not right with the main navigational sensor array," he began, a bit befuddled by Grey's peculiar method of communication. "All course readings and navigational settings have been fluctuating anywhere from .0003 to .0011 degrees off the Y axis. It's a pain in the ass to have to consistently correct for. I've run a series of diagnostics and traced the problem to here," he said, indicating a series of sensors displayed on the console screen in front of them, "in this cluster."
She nodded. *THE DECKS WITH EVEN NUMBERS SEEM TO HAVE THE MOST PROBLEMS, WE'VE NOTICED. A QUICK DESIGN FLAW- SOMETHING TO DO WITH LUCKY NUMBERS AND THE LOTTO, I THINK.*
Jeremy closed his eyes in disgust at the mention of Quick's name. "It's a wonder this thing flies at all," he muttered.
Ella smiled slightly. There were days she felt the same but at least she always had something to do.
As Grey continued her work isolating the exact source of the problem Jeremy stood by in silence. Too much silence for his tastes actually. "Uh . . .is there a particular -reason- you refuse to talk to me?" he asked pointedly, thinking her actions were directed solely at him.
Ella's fingers flew quickly over the keys of the PADD, then passed it back to him, and went back to the console. *I DON'T TALK TO ANYONE, LT. DON'T TAKE IT PERSONALLY. THE COMPUTER PADD IS JUST EASIER THAN PANTOMIMING EVERYTHING. I KNOW IT MAKES SOME PEOPLE UNCOMFORTABLE. IF YOU NEED TO, YOU CAN SING OR HUM SOMETHING. NO COUNTRY OR OPERA PLEASE*
Sing? Inside, Jeremy cringed at the thought after having gone through the humiliation back on lanjep.
"What is it with you women and singing?" he muttered. He paused for a second observing the mute woman as she worked. "Can I ask you a question?"
Ella felt like sighing. What was with all these questions lately? She had managed to get through the Academy without people pestering her, why now?
*SURE* she replied.
"What are women looking for? I mean, do you expect all of us guys to be goddamn lounge singers or something? Or traveling florists, ready with bouquet at the drop of a hat?" The helmsman's voice carried a considerable amount of frustration.
Ella looked at him a moment and then laughed. Savoie's frown deepened. She typed for awhile and then handed her response to him.
*HONESTLY, I THINK WE EXPECT YOU TO BE BOTH SENSITIVE AND AGGRESSIVE, THOUGHTFUL, HONEST, AND CARING, YET WITH A BAD BOY SIDE. BE ABLE TO READ OUR MINDS, SURPRISE US WITH FLOWERS AND NOT BECAUSE YOU'VE SCREWED UP- NOT THAT WE'LL BELIEVE YOU, OF COURSE. CUDDLE WITH US EVERY NOW AND THEN BUT NOT FORGET THAT SOMETIMES WE JUST WANT TO HAVE SEX TOO. NOT FORGET THE ANNIVERSARIES OF THE FIRST DATE AND THIRD MONTH AND OF COURSE BIRTHDAYS AND HOLIDAYS. REMEMBER SOME TINY LITTLE DETAIL, LIKE SHE SAID LIKED HULA-HOOPS AS A CHILD, AND SURPRISE HER WITH ONE- BUT LISTEN JUST IN CASE SHE'S TOLD YOU SHE'S ASSOCIATED HULA-HOOPS NOW WITH A DEAD RELATIVE. ALWAYS TELL HER SHE LOOKS BEAUTIFUL, NEVER AGREE WITH HER WHEN SHE SAYS SHE'S FAT. DON'T SAY YOU HATE HER PARENTS EVEN IF SHE SAYS ITS OKAY. IF YOUR GOING TO BE LATE, CALL HER AND LET HER KNOW-CAUSE WOMEN ARE PRONE TO ABANDONMENT FANTASIES. BUY HER SOME NORMAL, NON STRINGY PAJAMAS AND YES, AT LEAST ONCE, BREAK INTO SONG AND SURPRISE THE HELL OUT OF HER. SHE MIGHT HATE IT BUT AT LEAST SHE CAN NEVER SAY THAT YOU'VE NEVER TRIED TO PROVE YOU CARE ABOUT HER...DOES THAT HELP?*
Reading through the lengthy reply, Jeremy's eyes widened more than once. "Sensitive AND aggressive? . . . read your- . . . .tiny details?!" he sputtered as he read. "Give me a break!" The further he read, the more incredulous he grew. "She got her surprise song, that's it, no more of those!" he declared, continuing to the end.
"No! No, this damn well does -not- help!" Savoie argued, shaking his head.
Ella shrugged. You ask a stupid question...
"Let me get this straight . . . you expect us to be strong and honest but lie to you about how you look? You expect us to have a 'bad boy' side but 'sensitively'," he said in a pejoratively gentle tone, "listen to you babble on about dead people and hula hoops?!" he exclaimed even more incredulously, brandishing the PADD in the air and ready to hurl it at the first woman who walked through the door. "And then we sing for you in crowded public places and -still- have to -prove- we care about you?!"
Suddenly Lieutenant Grey was now the proxy stand-in for her entire gender .. . and for Erin Friel in particular.
Jeremy's tone quickly evolved into a rant and his face flushed with frustration -- days of frustration that should have been vented constructively. "You're all sick, that's what you are! What the hell do you do, sit around at your slumber parties and make up the rules you're going to inflict on us?!" Then he started pacing, continuing to wave the PADD around in the air. "Abandonment fantasies! Ha! I've got some fantasies for you . . . when are you going to start acting on -them-? Huh? Tell me that?"
Ella shrugged again. Did he really expect her to answer that one?
Slamming the PADD down on the console, Savoie turned to the door in a huff. "And you know what?" he yelled, pointing his finger authoritatively. "If I buy you stringy pajamas, you better damn well wear them!" And with that, he stormed from the room.
~~Thanks for the offer.~~ Ella signed with a grin.
*WELL, I THINK I'VE FIXED IT. LET US KNOW IF THERE'S A PROBLEM.* Ella passed the PADD to another crewman and started to put her tools away.
The ship was filled with shadows at this time of shift, and that suited Lt. Lester Williams just fine. It allowed him to blend in to his surroundings and observe those around him. One of the many things he had been taught in his life is that one can learn the most by just keeping an eye open to what is around them.
He crept with a slow and steady pace, his bionic eye making tiny inaudiable whirring noises as it refocused it's lenses to accomidate the ships 'night time' lighting cycle.
He heard shouting just up ahead and around the next corridor. Curious, he slinked over to the nearest bulkhead and pressed himself against the wall. He could pick up the voices of two men, apparently arguing and struggling in some fashion.
Lt. Williams found himself wishing he had ear implants as well.
Deciding to hazard a glance, he slowly craned his neck around the corner of the bulkhead and...
BAAAMM!!
..a large piano seemingly came out of nowhere and struck him against his temple.
The two men carrying the heavy instrument never even saw him, and immediatly placed the Baby Grand on the floor and hurried to assist the fallen officer.
Lester clutched his head as his implant began to emit a high pitched whine.
"Back...get back..before.." he started then his implant exploded in a fine red mist.
The intelligence officer's headless body slumped on the floor before the two shocked officers.
NRPG: One of the things we pride ourselves upon here on the Galaxy is attention to canon facts and powerful prose that deals with flawed characters and thier humanity. We DO NOT have the famed UBERMEN that some simms have marching around thier decks.
That and a couple of other issues in mind, Lt. Lester Williams (Intelligence) has met his untimely demise. Andrew, you may feel free to create another character more suited to the Star Trek genra and less James Bond. Please send a new Bio proposal with a more traditional character whose rank is no greater than Lieutenant and who's specialty is a department other than Intelligence, as it is a sensitive department that few people can successfully write in.
- Joe Ammo, GM, USS Galaxy TNG
Evening had set on Earth, leaving the last of the rays of the sun to filter into a room where people stood decked in their dress whites. Given the choice of a slap on the shoulder or pomp and circumstance, most would have just accepted the slap on the shoulder. However, if youve operated behind the scenes so much (some would say anything from scheming to manipulative,) then it was time to step into the light.
On behalf of Starfleet, for invaluable services rendered both official and top secret, and for going above and beyond the call of duty, even when it meant certain death, Admiral Sonia Anquinsos, you are hereby promoted to Fleet Admiral. Fleet Admiral Nakamura announced as he placed the ranking upon her collar. Congratulations, He whispered. I said you deserved it!
Great, She whispered back. I fill like a kid again!
He smiled, more so at the comment, than at a friend advancing in rank. Deep inside though, he wondered how long ago that might have been as everyone clapped around them. In the last decade, he had spent untold hours with her on conversations that had lasted into the break of morning, and figured her very old by the amount of information she held within her vast memory. Despite her late twenties appearance, he guessed she was more than a few millennia and closer to the truth than he realized. However, the El-Aurian never gave an exact age, something he guessed added to this mysterious aliens allure.
I guess the next phrase is let the party begin! She announced with emerald eyes aglow with happiness.
The oldest Admiral in Starfleet by far, and yet still a lovely
El-Aurian. Price finished for Paris. An El-Aurian served under me on the Galaxy, her brother I believe he was.
So, what do you think about the promotion? Admiral Paris asked Price.
Well mate, I think it was rightly deserved. For being behind the scenes, shes proved more than invaluable. She also has the three Cs following her around.
The three Cs?
Cool, calm and collected. And after meeting her interesting mother, He paused, looking over as she approached. She probably has a few more bag of tricks that we have yet to see.
And perhaps Ill let you in on those tricks. The El-Aurian female said, picking up their conversation. And maybe one day Ill show you those tricks of mine. As for my mother, A brow raised with a knowing look. She is a very strong and fiercely determined woman. Within her holds great intelligence and immeasurable wisdom that comes with being nearly seven millennia in age. Daenara Quialla Anquinsos is an El-Aurian of the highest caliber and not to be taken lightly.
Im sorry Admiral, if Ive offended you-
She sensed the Sanguinarians before you met them by a reflection of the past, a temporal echo, extremely faint, but easily sensed by my kind, and an unheeded warning of things to come. Age has not dulled her senses one iota. Shes incredibly formidable, some would say highly dangerous than most and fully capable of protecting herself from all dangers both small and great. She then gestured to the room. Enough about that. You havent offended me in the slightest so all is well. How have you been recently Admiral Price?
Very well mlady Ive become used to using the wheelchair. And you Admiral? Have you heard form your brother lately?
Im doing very well. As for my brother, hes currently aboard the Galaxy, currently a Lieutenant Commander, with his wife and son in tow.
A son! Admiral Price smiled. Well please congratulate him for me.
You mean John Bhrode actually allowed him to have both mother and child aboard? Owen Paris asked, somewhat amused. How did he manage to do that?
Well, you know El-Aurians, we tend to stay out of everyones way. Her eyes narrowed as a mischievous grin caressed her face. And you know what they say Admiral Paris, all roads lead to Breen.
Admiral Anquinsos.
The tall El-Aurian female looked to her left as Fleet Admiral Jurgen Hoth made his way towards them. He seemed to have a smile on his face as he neared them. She almost thought it a scowl, but laid it aside when they shook hands. His still carried the demeanor she remembered during the launching of the Galaxy. And it made her suspicious. Still, given the choice of being locked in a room with either a Borg or him, the vote would be extremely close but she would settle for Hoth. At least he could carry on a decent conversation, not try to kill her as the Borg would. On another note, she found the human somewhat cute in a sinister sort of way.
Understandably, Hoth was curious about the woman. Her service record encompassed five decades and Starfleet Intelligence knew extremely little beyond the general facts. She owned her own vessel, a ship created by her race, integrated with technology borrowed form technologies unaware to them. She had abodes on Betazed, Earth, and QonoS to name a few. From the way she carried herself, Fleet Admiral Anquinsos was clearly very formidable with powerful allies, contacts, and influence within numerous Galactic powers spread possibly throughout the entire Galaxy. This coupled with their racial privacy, mysteriousness, and suspicions that they were than they appeared made this woman interesting or dangerous.
Congratulations on the promotion. Perhaps you should have been made Fleet Admiral in 2367 after Wolf 359. How did you save both your crew and yourself by the way?
I cant reveal all of my secrets Admiral Hoth, where would that leave me? Lets just say I confused them in a way as to rattle their circuits and leave it at that.
If you insist. He said, the lower tone in his voice sounded slightly disappointed. I suppose even a woman like yourself has the right to a secret or two.
Or more if need be.
Admirals Price and Paris began to watch the conversation as they batted back and forth. They knew Hoth was not a man to be trifled with, and in the little time theyve known the El-Aurian, neither was she. Apart from her dark under currents resonating in her tone, something in her eyes indicated that she wasnt playing games. They decided to remain in the background for this one, like spectators waiting for the battle to commence.
Yes, you do tend to keep a lot of secrets, like per-say, the Q.
Admiral Nakamura walked towards the fellow Admirals, about to distract Hoths attention, when Sonia discreetly motioned him otherwise. She had both torpedo tubes loaded and was about to fire.
What about the Q? Their not only known to me, theyre known to you as well.
Intelligence reports that the Q seem to have an aversion, some would say a hatred for your race. Why is that Admiral?
Perhaps we give them sever indigestion? She stated more figuratively than amusingly. Ever asked them?
Neither side wishes to speak on the matter, Admiral.
Prime Directive. She simply stated. It has been said that every race has them, even if they are connected to a greater whole. The El-Aurians have one Admiral Hoth, and we dont break for anyone. If the good of the many outweighs the good of the one, then an El-Aurian may go so far as bend it, but only to a point. And nothing more or less is said, only what is needed to be made known. In regards to the Q, if neither side wishes to speak on the subject, then you must understand that such sensitive material is not for your knowledge, and it may not ever be.
Sonia could tell that the answer did not sit well with Hoth. His face seemed to turn red, as felt as though he was being talked down to, even if the voice was an understanding one.
Well, if the Q will not be discussed, then what about your ship? Could I at least have the general overview of that, or is it forbidden by your Prime Directive? He almost mocked.
I suppose I can give you the general overview Admiral. Her eyes narrowed into twin emerald lasers. If looks could kill, Hoth would have been a greasy stain on the floor.
I suppose I can give you the general overview Admiral Hoth. Her eyes narrowed into twin emerald points. If looks could kill, Hoth would have been a greasy stain on the floor. Its an El-Aurian, Luaashii Class Deep Space Cruiser, designed for extreme long-range travel and intensely high speeds at the very limits of the warp threshold. Slightly larger than the Delta Flyer, it is fully warp capable, but was readily designed to alternate travel methods She paused as his eyes almost widened at the statement. It has very powerful defensive/offensive capabilities and highly maneuverable, I enjoy navigating through asteroid fields whenever I get the chance. She then looked him in the eyes and said. And no, no person is authorized to board it unless given my expressed permission. I serve the Federation, but the ship is mine, all mine, and no one elses, understood?
I would never ask such a question. He said calmly. Her gaze seemed remotely unnerving, and quickly changed the subject. I just never knew what technological capability your race had.
Were highly extensive travelers Admiral, they dont call us the Listener Race for nothing. She smiled pleasantly. As for how technologically advanced we are, well, I leave that to your imagination. I also never said whether or not it all came from my race! She thought. It was her turn to change the subject. I understand you run quite a prestigious school Admiral, She began, genuinely impressed by what she heard. An Advanced Tactical School nonetheless.
Located at Wolf 359, He began, a proud look slipping onto his face. We train only the finest cadets in the fleet.
I quite sure of that. Ive seen the list of students that have graduated from there and I must say I am very impressed.
Why thank you Admiral Anquinsos. Perhaps if you ever get a chance, you could come by. I would personally escort you around.
How gentlemanly of you Admiral. And Im sure you could probably teach a young woman a thing or two on the field of tactics.
I seriously doubt it! He thought. Perhaps so.
She smiled then leaned over to his ear and said with great sincerity. Never doubt what you do not know, only what defies comprehension. And with all the variety of the races inhabiting the Universe, thats not very much. She winked. Good Day Admiral, Admirals
Paris and Price nodded. And watched as he gracefully stepped around Hoth and towards Nakamura.
Quite a woman. Admiral Paris spoke up.
Quite a woman indeed. Hoth agreed, keeping a watchful eye on the El-Aurian.
Jack was sitting at his desk. By desk he meant the third closest table to the wall in the marine's mess. Reports, reports, and reports. All officers, no matter if they were marines or 'fleeters or... well, whatever knew how to do paperwork. Which was useful because, without PADDs, they'd do about a metric ton of it per day. But that didn't mean they liked doing it.
Requisition form R-657-V700 flashed across the PADDs screen. He didn't know he could process these. Time to find out. Apparently someone wanted a grenade. That sounded interesting, maybe Valhoun would actually read this.
"Hmm..." said Jack as he said the important words under his breath, "Dalhquist... grenade... standard issue... recreational purposes..." Oh hell, why not? Approved. Jack was pretty sure that he wasn't really approving it. Experience taught him that he was approving the request so that it could, as some time in the future, be requested. Nothing like red tape.
Another form flashed across the screen. Apparently an anonymous request for some equipment. "Gunny Goldstein... holograms... nude. Hmm, I'll go ahead and save someone's life right now." Denied. But then Jack realized that he wasn't saving his own life, just someone's life who was stupid enough to request that. Better mark that one 'Pending Further Review.'
The next message was from Engineering. ~This oughta be good...~ thought Jack. He read it aloud between sips of some foul protein drink he'd concocted years before, "From Lt. Ella Grey... blah blah blah... requesting training simulators not run a full capacity for longer than 10 hours... blah blah blah... currently running at 150% approved usage... blah blah blah... please comply." Deleted.
Next message, this time it was the ship's computer. Again, Jack read it to himself, "Records indicate deletion of previous message. Engineering Department requested immediate resending of message until situation resolved." Deleted. Next message. The computer. Again. "Records indicate that previous message has be--" Ok, quite enough of that. Jack tossed the PADD down onto the table and beelined towards the yellowshirts. No, not security, the useful yellowshirts, engineering.
:::Main Engineering:::
Now all he had to do was find the woman. ~She'd better be here,~ thought Jack which he thought in almost, but not quite, the exactly opposite manner he didn't think to check if she was on duty this shift or not. However, whatever was left of the luck of the Irish held out and he spotted her tapping away dutifully at a console near the warp core. "Lt. Grey, you have a problem?" His tone wasn't insulting or ignorant... just, well, to the point.
Ella looked up and felt her perfectly neutral expression drop to reveal utter disgust. Not him...Then it was back in place again. She punched in some keys on the computer PADD and tossed it to him.
*SO, YOU'RE THE ONE WHO KEEPS DELETING THE MESSAGES, I TAKE IT?*
"Yes. It must be some kind of mistake." Not a mistake that he was deleting them, mind you, but a mistake that they were being sent at all.
*NO MISTAKE. YOU CAN'T RUN THOSE SIMULATORS LIKE THAT. THEY KEEP FRYING AND WE KEEP HAVING TO FIX THEM.*
"So they need maintenance every now and again... training needs to be accomplished. There are schedules to keep and deadlines to meet. If marines aren't fully trained at any given time, well, the results aren't very pleasant. Training isn't a pleasurable experience, it isn't like we do this solely to annoy the engineers. When--and if--a problem should arise, then I'm sure you can spare one tech to fix it." Why couldn't the universe work right for a change and just let him get what he wanted?
Why was it she always felt homicidal around this man? Oh, right. He was an ass. He was also a marine and she hated marines. *WE ARE NOT AT YOUR BECK AND CALL.*
"Yes you are, you're engineers. When something is broken you and your people are notified and commence repairs. That is what you do isn't it?" Everyone was at someone else's beck and call. The marines were, the engineers were, hell even Captain Bhrode had to obey an order from some Admiral every now and again. No one was truly free on a starship. But Jack had a feeling that stating the obvious wasn't going to work.
*YOU CAN TAKE YOUR LITTLE TRAINING SIMULATION AND SHOVE IT-* Ella began to type calmly.
Jack sighed, maybe he should change tacks and try a different approach. He collected his thoughts for a long, silent moment before coolly explaining, "Alright, this is already going nowhere and I'm not sure if the end of this conversation has been decided already because you don't like me but, please, here me out. Marines are just a means to an end. But, we know this, and we train constantly for whatever mission may arise. This training takes utterly insane amounts of effort and time. Not training will result in deaths. Not just of marines but of engineers, scientists, and civilians. If it means saving lives, don't you think extra repair time given to the sims is being well spent?"
*LISTEN...VALHOUN, RIGHT? ALL IM SAYING IS THAT YOU CANT RUN THE SYSTEM FOR THAT LONG AT THAT CAPACITY. WE'LL HAVE TO REPLACE THEM EVERY DAY IF YOU DO.*
"Yes, I do see your point, I am not... despite what you may think, ignoring you. There must be some solution to this problem. Ok, think on this: First, I can send a couple marines down. You can show them how to make the most common and easy repairs so you won't need to send people down every week. Second, you can assign an engineer to do the voodoo that you do and upgrade the simulators to be a bit more... ahh, robust." Jack should use that leadership quality of his more often. He thought this was a damn fine solution. But, then again, if it was thrown back in his face it probably would lead to a few blood vessels popping in his brain.
That was somewhat reasonable, Ella had to admit. She hated that it was reasonable. *FINE. YOU SEND YOURS, WE'LL SEND OURS AND YOU GET ONE UPGRADE, THAT'S IT. IF ITS NOT RUN AT THE PARAMETERS SET FOR IT AND IT FRIES, YOU GUYS WILL JUST HAVE TO TRAIN SOMEWHERE ELSE.* Preferably in space, Ella thought.
"That's...acceptable. But if it fries I'm requesting that my marines have the use of your quarters for morning exercise. And afternoon. And evening." Jack was joking of course, well, maybe. Hopefully. "Anyway," he added, "Thanks--and please don't send me anymore messages. They're annoying... just tell me things to my face from now on, eh?"
Ella stared at him, wondering if that was a crack about her being mute or if he actually expected her to walk over to Marine Central every time they did something wrong. Either way it annoyed her. *DON'T LET THE DOOR HIT YOU ON THE WAY OUT* she wrote.
As far as she could tell, it didn't as he left.
What a pity, Ella thought and went back to work.
OOC: This post is a bit vague as to when it takes place, but it is sometime after Rebecca meets Victors Aunts, and thereafter returns to the ship. Recall she is required to undergo mandatory counseling due to her role in the Defiant Disaster. (Brief references to Rebecca's vision in that adventure)
The room was a happy tone of beige.
Beige, then being the therapeutic color of choice by the top Psychological minds in the Federation.
Beige was a color that made you feel self actualized.
Beige was a colot that was designed to boost you sence of self worth.
Beige was a acolor that made you want to tell complete strangers about your potty-training habits as a child.
After all, it was amazing what a skilled counselor could do armed with nothing but potty-training details. (It was the subject of a two-sememster course at the Academy afterall)
Unfortunately, Beige was the color that was rapidly getting on the nerves of Rebecca von Ernst, and she was perfectly pleased with her succesful housebreaking thank you very much.
Unfortunately this deprived COmmander Karyn Dallas of a key diagnostic tool.
Karyn regarded the young woman before her quietly, startled more than she thought she would be given what she'd already observed of this woman's behavior and demeanor. It was almost painful to acknowledge, the changes she, more than anyone, recognized.
Dallas was ashamed to admit that if it were anyone else, it would have been evidence that her client had been deeply wounded in some way, enough for Dallas to keep fighting to break the shell until she could access that pain. It saddened her in many ways that this cold exterior, that Rebecca had developed as of late could be viewed as an improvement, even more so given that she had accepted it as being nothing she could change. That was, until now.
Perhaps Karyn was fishing for something she would never receive, something that had been broken within her, this waif of a girl that had shut herself down, but was this really how officers, even tactically gifted officers should behave? And how was Rebecca supposed to cope with these latest events given what she had become? Only time would tell.
Rebecca von Ernst perched primly on the edge of the counseling couch, her back ramrod straight and her eyes narrowed and unblinking.
"Commander Dallas," she began without preamble. "Pursuant to recent evaluation by a Starfleet board of review, I am required to subject myself to your ministrations until such time as you release me to my regular duties.." she paused for barely a moment, "I am scheduled to go on shift in half an hour so perhaps we better begin.
*Required to subject myself?* thought Karyn, *Can't say I've ever heard it phrased quite like that before.* Dallas thought. Beneath the carefully clipped speech Karyn thought she could detect the smallest hint of true emotion: annoyance. Rebecca, it seemed, was fairly typical of her mandated clients in that regard. "Under the circumstances, Commander, your duties are not the immediate priority right now. I've been asked to evaluate your fitness for duty, and that's going to take some time."
With a barely audible sigh, the tiny redhead acknowledged that Karyn Dallas was more than likely not going to let her go that easily. "I should remind you Commander," Rebecca said keeping up the wall of Starfleet formality, "that I have been, in my career, examined by no less than seven separate licensed therapists. Perhaps it would be prudent dispense with the preliminaries and merely get on with your diagnosis."
"Do you feel you need to be diagnosed, Rebecca?"
"What exactly are you needing me to say for your report Commander Dallas?" The Redhead asked bluntly.
Karyn smiled politely, warmly, though it was difficult given Rebecca's cool facade. "I don't need you to say anything, Rebecca. This is an opportunity for you to talk about how you're feeling. Given your recent experiences on the Defiant, it would be natural for you to be struggling with your own emotions."
"The Defiant?" Rebecca replied, "My report on the Away mission is on record Counselor. As for the specifics of my personal visions or the subsequent nightmares, I don't believe that's pertinent to my duties."
Karyn leaned forward. "Rebecca, if you're having nightmares, they could very well affect you emotionally." Dallas shook her head. "I'm not interested in your report. I want to know how you feel about what happened, to see how you're coping with those nightmares."
"The nightmares. . . ." Rebecca repeated the phrase, for an instant her eyes clouding over as if re-experiencing a particularly nasty vision. "Its . . .its just dreams Commander." She replied. Her clipped manner of speech faltered briefly, but the cold façade quickly reasserted itself. "Their effect, if any, would be more suitably handled by Dr. Malgin and some form of sleep-inducer. I suggest we stick to the matter at hand."
"They are the matter at hand, Rebecca. You won't be equipped to fight this as long as you're plagued by these nightmares, and it's inadvisable for you to go through life using sleeping aids. It's also something that will be frowned upon by those at Starfleet Medical." It was not a route she usually went with people, but right now Rebecca needed regulations and directives that would make her see why seeing Karyn was important.
"Let me pose a question to you Counselor," Rebecca said ignoring the previous statement, "While I understand that you feel your function here is important in some fashion . . . and I must admit your presence aboard does seem to have a positive effect on crew efficiency ratings. . . . . why is it you feel the need to insist I am somehow 'impaired' or ‘sick’ when I have neither admitted such failing, nor requested any help with dealing with it?"
"Because it's my job to notice such things, Rebecca," Karyn replied, "to prevent matters from getting to a point where they will affect your duties. You are assuming I think there is something wrong with you, when all I'm doing is asking you questions. Questions that will ascertain how you're feeling and coping with your experiences at the moment."
A small sigh. "What exactly are your questions Counselor? "
Karyn leaned back. "Tell me about your nightmares." she replied casually.
"The nightmares. . ." Rebecca repeated it yet again. "They are. . . I believe, a mental replay of the attacks I suffered while on the Defiant Counselor." She said. "It. . .it happens from time to time with me. A side effect of my memory I suppose. One of my many psychologists told me that dreams are merely the minds way of dealing with extraneous information." She shrugged, "Would it not follow that I just need to wait this out until all my brain processing is done?"
Karyn shrugged. "You might try to avoid the issue for awhile, but I doubt that would do you much good. Besides, not seeing me would mean violating the order of the review board..."
"I didn’t think so." Rebecca replied, "Very well, while I don’t see the significance I will relay them to you.. . . .It starts out with me standing in the front yard of my Momma’s farm back on Earth. . . . . "
The details of the Defiant visions, and the subsequent nightmares came out in increasingly disjointed sentences.
Rebecca described the post-apocaplyptic vision of her childhood home quickly enough, but when the dream moved on to her capture by a vulgar future-version of herself, she began to fidget uncomfortably on the edge of the chair.
Karyn listened patiently to each vision, allowing Rebecca to recount each instance at her own pace and in her own way, fearing if she interrupted, Rebecca would stop speaking altogether. It was somewhat of a relief to know that Rebecca was not becoming more detached as she continued, but instead was tapping into the emotions she kept so tightly under wraps.
As she described how her ‘future-self’ was waging some sort of epic battle with the whole of Starfleet, Karyn noticed how the erect posture was likewise beginning to suffer. The thin shoulders began to hunch over, and her tongue nervously licked at dry lips. ". . .and then she. . . or. . .m. . me. . or whoever it was invited me into the turbolift to t. . talk." Rebecca was saying, her right hand came up to pinch at the bridge of her nose as if warding off a severe headache.
"She. .she began saying how she m.m. .missed being me. How she regretted who she was and how she wanted to be me again.. . .how she . . l. . .l. . l .l oved m. .me." the last part of the sentence came out in a horrible stammer.
"A. ..a.a. and then she. . .uh. . .she k. .k. .kissed me." A horrible blush rose in the freckled cheeks of what only 10 minutes before had been the calm cool collect Ice Queen of the Galaxy.
Dallas leaned forward so that Von Ernst could look directly at her. "A replay of the incident with Khan Nilani perhaps?" Karyn recalled the incident with the former Galaxy engineer in which she'd kissed Rebecca forcefully and suddenly while changing. The incident would have startled any female crewmember given there had been absolutely no warning, but for the skittish Von Ernst, it was an assault on everything she was, and everything knew.
At length Karyn managed to urge Rebecca to continue the tale. She detailed the ghost of Nilani Kahn appearing before her, her neck horribly lopsided, and uttering vulgar sexual insinuations. She spoke of the horrible legions of dead blaming her for their fate. She described how they fell upon her future-doppleganger and ripped her to shreds, how a new vision of her dear mother was swept away by a nightmare version of Lysander.
"L. . L. .last of all I had a vision of m. . .me being p. . pregnant. ..with uh. . .with one of the crewmembers' babies." Rebecca elected not to reveal the exact identity of the ‘crewmember’. The fact she dreamed about James Corgan was too bewildering to describe. She winced slightly, apparently the headache was getting worse. "G. . .Guess I’m c. .c.razy. . huh?"
Karyn Dallas smiled warmly. "If you can ask the question, then you're not crazy, Rebecca." She shook her head. "You have nothing to worry about. As I see it, your mind is just trying to reconcile all the changes that have happened in your life. You may have a new rank and position, but you just cannot expect that to erase all you were. Your family home, your mother, all these things will never stop being important to you no matter whom or what you become, and the fear of losing that part of yourself during all of this change is actually a very normal fear. As for your visions of carrying a crew member's child and your visions of Nilani, they could simply reflect your confusion over any sort of personal relationship."
Rebecca blinked in confusion. That was it?
~~~I'm just 'confused about personal relationships?~~~ she marveled. ~~~Whats not to be 'confused' about?~~~
She just fought for her sanity aboard a demon-possesed starship that seemed to get off on running her crewmates through a Veg-o-matic.
She'd been having psycho dreams about macking down on herself, and she'd been proposed to by a nerp that never botherd to ask her out on a date first.
Whats not to be confused about?
"Uh. . . . .right." Rebecca said at last then made a point of looking at her watch. "Oh. . .shucks look at the time. . . .I think we made progrees Doc, but I gotta scoot now."
Sliding off the end of the chair, Rebecca hastily bounced up the office stairs where Dallas could not easily follow. "I think we should . . .uh. . .do this agian sometime. . . .call my people and I'll have them pencil you in for next month or so."
And with a flash of red hair, she was gone.
=/\=
"Lieutenant Kara'nin, uh, sir," Daniel Scarborough called out from down the hallway when he noticed the winged Fruna'lin science officer, his boss, approach from the other direction. He began to move more quickly to reduce the distance between them, his fast stride transforming into an unsure jog.
"Daniel!" Cutter responded loudly. Daniel's appearance seemed to please Cutter tremendously, his slight, relaxed grin growing into full beaming smile. He threw open his arms and brought his wings forward to his side in a welcoming gesture.
"Danny, Danu, how are you?"
"Wha, uh .... fine," he responded, meeting Cutter in front of his quarters. Danu? "I, uh, I take it your feeling better, sir?" he asked cautiously, remembering Cutter's recent depressed state.
"Ke'lene, Danu, I feel great. And what is with this 'sir' dren? You shouldn't have to display your respect by calling me some title. Call me Cutter. Here, come inside," Cutter said, unlocking the door and stepping inside without giving Daniel further invitation.
Daniel just stood in the hall a moment, caught off guard and looking around questioningly, despite the fact that no one was around. He slowly peeked inside Cutter's quarters. Cutter had gone to his desk and was looking inside a small box. The room had significantly changed since last week. It was well lit, and relatively clean. The old dishes and PADDs had disappeared. Some of the old laundry remained, but it still looked fresh, like the clothing had just been taken off and tossed rather than having been sitting there for weeks. Even the boxes that had been shoved against the walls had been removed. In place of all the grime, pictures and pieces of art were now scattered around the room on shelves and tables.
"Wow," he said to himself quietly.
The noise caused Cutter to look up from his box; he had apparently forgot Daniel was there. "Ohn, hey, Daniel, let me ask you something. What do think about dark red, burgundy carpet and a yellow walls, like the color of champaign? Then I'll bring in an obsidian table to match the black sofa, and, obviously, some other minor things as well. It would look much better than this provided assortment of mismatched colors."
"Uh....," was all Daniel could spit out.
"Ohn! Wait, here, I can show you what I mean," Cutter continued, lost in his own excitement. He went into his attached bedroom and returned holding a large piece of holographic artwork. It was a cityscape. Tall, dark buildings loomed upwards, connected with suspended bridges, growing out of a red, slightly rusty ground, like the dirt was filled with ferric oxide, like on Mars. The city was reflected slightly from above, giving substance and detail to what would normally be an invisible transparent aluminum dome. A large champagne yellow gas giant filled over half of the sky above. Its swirling bands were animated in the hologram and rotated slowly across the face. Some of the figures, winged figures, flying from bridge to bridge were also animated -- tiny, triangular silhouettes gliding from one to another.
"Its a landscape of Cherno, a moon of Ochet, the major gas giant in the Fruna system. These are the colors I'm talking about. This is the inspiration piece. I think I'll hang it here," he said, moving over to the wall that faced the three large windows in the room. "What do you think? Do you like it?"
Daniel had been staring at Cutter incredulously, and now that he had finished talking, Daniel began to move his mouth in a series of half starts. "Wha? Uh ... huh? Uh, yes, I suppose its fine. Um ... Cutter ... if you've been feeling better, why haven't you come back to work?" he asked, fighting away Cutter's distractions and remembering why he had come.
"Work? Work ist. There's too many other things to do. Look, around Danu. I've been working constantly since I came aboard, months ago. I've only just now unpacked," Cutter replied, annoyance covered his features, perhaps even resentment. "Besides, you don't need me, you can do everything I can do."
"No, no, that's not true. I'm not authorized to do your job, sir," Daniel said, but then noticed the Fruna'lin's stare, "Cutter. I've been trying to cover for you, to give you time to ... um, adjust, but I have my own job to do, too."
"Ohn," Cutter said, as his face softened a bit. "Well, then, sounds like you could use a break as well. Come with me to the holodeck!"
"Uh ... I--"
"Sem, come on. I just bought a whole bunch of holo programs from that Ferengi Liaison officer, Cram or Chrome or Crom or something," Cutter responded. He quickly returned to his desk, opened a drawer and pulled out a small container. "Here, pick one," he offered, opening the lid and revealing a number of isolinear chips.
"Uh, si---, uh, Cutter, I--" Daniel tried again.
"Come on, Danu. There are some Earth programs in here! Look: Dungeons and Dragons," he began reading, "Top Gun, ohn, this one looks promising - Vetustas, Unlocking Secrets of the Past, an Adventure/Mystery. You like archeology?"
"Cutter, I can't," Daniel said suddenly. "I have to go write a report for the Captain, about Orion space, uh .... your job."
Cutter shrugged, "All right, if that's what you want to do. I'm going to take this cliffs, mountains and waterfalls program and go fly for a couple hours, then. I'll see you around, Danu." And with that, he left, leaving Daniel alone in his quarters.
Daniel sighed and brushed his hand through his hair. He had come to get Cutter to return to work and he failed. Now he would have to write that report to the captain on his own -- that was probably the worst part of this affair.
He sighed once more and began to make his way to the door, but stopped short when he noticed the box sitting on Cutter's desk. It was a rather nice looking box, and Daniel was curious about what was inside that had Cutter contemplating so much over it, but should he look? He made several alternating steps between the desk and the door, deciding what to do. Eventually, Daniel walked over to the desk and lifted the lid of the box.
The interior was blue velvet, the color of the science department. Inside lay two small golden pips, a communicator badge and the small ribbon signifying the leadership of a starship science department.
Daniel's jaw dropped as the realization creeped upon him. He stood for a long while, regretting his decision to peek inside the box. He closed it, finally, slowly, like it was delicate, and left the room.
Chad Vicenik
Lt. Cutter Kara'nin
Chief of Astrophysics
USS Galaxy
"I have just sent you the information on Rigellian space. Is there anything else you require, Lieutenant?" Tonik stated, rotating in his chair in Astrometrics to face Lt. Scarborough.
Daniel sighed, "Um, I suppose not."
"Very well," Tonik said, turning back to his console. "Lieutenant, may I ask you a question?"
"Uh ... yeah, I, uh, I guess so."
"Why are you writing this report for Lieutenant Kara'nin?"
"Oh, uh ..... he's .... he's taking a vacation. The mission aboard the Defiant really affected him, but, uh, he's been in a good mood. He's been relaxing quite a bit, enjoying it so much that, uh, haha, he doesn't want to come back to work," Daniel said. He didn't think it appropriate to discuss Cutter's true mental state with too many people.
"Ah, I see."
"Tonik, can I ask you a question? You work with Lieutenant Kara'nin on these reports a lot, right? How, uh, how does he write them? Is there a standard format or does he just wing it?"
The Vulcan turned in his chair, his left eyebrow was arched high on his forehead, "If you are trying to make a humorous comment about the lieutenant's species--"
"What? No...what? I, I was ... no."
"Good. I am a Vulcan, Lieutenant Scarborough, I do not laugh."
Daniel sighed, "Nevermind. I'll, I'll just make something up."
==============================================
To: Captain John Q. Bhrode
From: Lt. Daniel Scarborough
Subject: Properties of Orion Space Date:
------
Destination: Rigellian Space
Rigellian space, also known as Orion space, is a collection of star systems between the Federation and the Outlands, a vast expanse of neutral space. Officially claimed Rigellian territory consists of four star systems within the Echo Cluster, known as Rigel I through IV. However, they also unofficially claim a number of neighboring systems, including VDB 874363, a young T Tauri star surrounded by a gas cloud still in the process of collapsing.
The signal, judged as a possible distress call, originated from the first M class planet orbiting Eta Rigel, locally dubbed Eta II. Eta Rigel is an orange K2 star, approximately 4850 degrees K, slightly less than one-third of the brightness of Sol. It is surrounded by three (3) terrestrial bodies and two (2) gas giants and one (1) gas giant core. Below is a table of the major planetary bodies, listed with designation, class, mass, orbital distance from the star and number of satellites:
Name
Class
Mass ( /M Earth)
Orbital Distance (AU)
Satellites
Eta I J (Gas Giant) 310.5 0.065 0
Eta II H (Desert) 1.1 0.88 1
Eta III K (Marslike) 0.33 1.45 0
Eta IV C (Inactive) 0.13 4.34 2
Eta V J 296.8 9.89 32
Eta VI U (Giant core) 16.22 26.76 18
Only Eta II can support life without the aid of artificial environment suits. It is an H class planet, which means it is a terrestrial planet with less than 5% surface water. In fact, Eta II only has 3.5% surface water, 97% of which is found as ice on or near the poles. The atmosphere is breathable: 70% Nitrogen, 25% oxygen, 5% miscellaneous gases including Carbon Dioxide, Neon and Argon. No known colonies exist as of this date, however the Orions did maintain an outpost here near the southern pole between the years 2235 and 2308. The Geology department should be contacted for further information concerning this body.
Eta Rigel is actually a binary star system. Its secondary is a small M8 star, 2680 degrees K, about one-fifth the brightness of Sol. This secondary star, designated Eta Rigel B orbits at a distance of 867 AU. Eta Rigel B only has a smattering of small planetecimals/asteroids orbit it, the largest body, which can be classified as a class C planet, is only 0.08 the mass of Earth.
The local neighbors to this star, or those stars within 7.5 light years, are listed below. Most notably are Beta and Gamma Rigel, two of the four stars officially comprising the Rigellian Consortium. VDB 874363, as stated earlier, is a young T Tauri star which is still surrounded by a formation disk composed mainly of Hydrogen, Helium and light metals and dust. VDB 874787, on the other hand, is a white dwarf surrounded by an expelled planetary nebula. Although the densities are very small, this planetary nebula has many traces of heavy elements formed during the death of a star. This nebula is quite hot, approximately 10,000 degrees K, meaning most of the lighter elements are fully ionized. Entering this nebula is strongly discouraged, as the temperature and electromagnetic anomalies may damage ship's systems and structural integrity.
Star Distance (lt yrs)
HD 203845 2.52
Kappa Rigel 3.29
Beta Rigel 4.23
Gamma Rigel 5.46
VDB 874363 6.52
VDB 874787 7.10
The politics of this region are beyond the scope of this report and the Astrophysics Department. For such information, it is recommended you contact Intelligence, History or the Liaison Departments.
Lt. Daniel Scarborough
Senior Researcher in charge of Astrometrics
Head Assistant to the Chief of Astrophysics
==============================================
Chad Vicenik
Lt. Cutter Kara'nin
Chief of Astrophysics
Caberation@aol.com
The Distress signal was the focus of most gossip on the ship and the curiosity of a lot of the intelligance office.
Bolivar was sipping his usual glass of green tea and examining dispatches on the latest situation. His mind whirled over the concepts and possible permutations.
Could this be an ambush, some sort of plan to elimiate the Galaxy and punish the Federation, or to destabilise the federation, but then the Galaxy was one ship and John Bhrode was just a captian.
Or was he... That confused the Nietzchean, Bhrodie had a nose for conspiracy that would rival the greatest political minds of his world, and a tactical mind that would rival Geronimo Von Clauswitz, one of the greatest generals the Alliance had ever known. It was a pity he was an unmodified human.
He would need to get some information from the Cheka, State Security. To figure out what Brode could have enemies of...
This would be a challenge.
"This is the dawn of a new era for the Orion people!" the man bellowed, gripping the handrails and glancing down at the plump woman who sat in the vessel's control pit.
For what seemed to be the thousandth time, she simply rolled her eyes in anticipation for the flood of ego driven babble that was no doubt heading her way.
"We are on the cusp of the scientific breakthrough that will tip the balance of power in the universe forever! No longer will the Romulans have the edge! Why, in the very halls of the Romulan Senate itself, there will be one man's name whispered into their pointy ears. One shining star who singlehandedly..with your help of coarse, Murial..managed to do what no other race ..even the vaunted Starfleet has been able to do! One man has finally perfected the universe's other cloaking device! And it is here..at this hour..aboard this mighty craft that his name will be etched in history!" the man said.
"Ustus, please! This is an antiquated Bolian shuttle that still smells faintly like urine, who's name translates loosely to 'Mud Hen'. Just hurry up and finish your little experiment."
The Orion scientist looked at her with a look of astonishment etched on his face.
"Woman, sometimes I don't even know why I bothered keeping Uncle Clem from selling you to that little Streely fellow's interstellar brothel." he said with hands upon his hips.
"Now Ustus, let's not forget who it was that saved you from that Thomas fellow who wanted you to pose for holos with nothing but a sign that read 'Breen or Bust'. Now get on with this so I can get home and feed poor Kurage. The little thing is probably worried sick." she said settling back into the seat once again.
The old man just muttered to himself and flipped the switch.
"Stupid dog."
The shuttlecraft began to vibrate violently, which put a look of concern upon the man's face. He watched the readouts of the power output and slowly they began to subside.
"We did it! We did it! We are cloaked! Invisible to everyone around us!" he said howling and jumping with glee.
Over at the control pit, Murial was less than enthusiastic. she pointed to a blinking yellow light. "Will you quit your dancing and tell me what this means?"
The old man shuffled over and glanced over at the panel.
"This can't be right! It says that there is another ship in our vicinity. But I don't see a thing! There's nothing even.." he started until his eyes focused on the window before him.
A brilliant blue light swirled before him in the gases immediately outside the shuttle. Like a curtain they parted and just outside them sailed the colossal form of a Federation Starship.
Literally.
Ustus screamed a high pitched shrill as the leviathan slowed itself, passing inches in front of them.
He covered his face and shouted for Murial to get them out of there before they were run over.
"Well Mr. Genius, I would do so but it seems that the engines won't function with your mighty cloak on!" she hissed.
The man was still unable to remove his eyes from the millions of tons of metal that he could have reached out and touched that still passed overhead. A deep rumble seemed to shake the shuttlecraft, threatening to tear it asunder. After what seemed like forever, the great ship passed like an eagle in flight, thier engines leaving a swirling trail of the gases in thier wake.
Ustus rushed to the aft portal and gazed as the magnificent jewel glided to a graceful stop, nearly casting a shadow on the planet below. Tiny chunks of rock scattered and settled once again after being disturbed by the colossal craft.
"Dis..disengage the cloak and get us home! Now woman now! The dog needs fed!" he uttered breathlessly.
"Humph!" Murial said, then activated the ships engines and hightailed it away from the ship.
"All stopped. We have arrived, Sir." Savoie called out from the helm.
The gray haired captain stood straight, tugged at his tunic then clasped his hands behind his back. "Your damned right we have. Tactical, do you have any ID on the anomaly you detected?"
Donovan Black shook his head. "A two man Bolian shuttle. They are apparently sailing off. we may have surprised them sir."
The Captain frowned.
"Open a channel. Broadcast the following: THIS IS CAPTAIN JOHN Q BRHODE AND THE FEDERATION STARSHIP USS GALAXY RESPONDING TO A DISTRESS HAIL. WE STAND AT THE READY TO ASSIST. RESPOND."
Moments later the comm board chirped in reply.
"On screen!" Brhode snapped in anticipation, then in an instant his scowl deepened at the sight of the face on screen.
"Captain! My good man! You couldn't have come at a better time!" said Harry Fenton Mudd while twisting at his gray handlebar mustache.
NRPG: Here's Mudd in your eye everyone! The source of our distress call is none other than TOS Harry Mudd. This weekend Brandon or I will pen the next chapter, and Monday morning you all will have oodles to write about. And out of curiosity, anyone catch the clue in the begining of the post? Mud hen? Hee hee hee.
The USS Tiberius dropped out of warp for exactly ten minutes. Fleet Captain Angela Dorn knew her job, and she performed it flawlessly, her crew acting as a well oiled machine. Lieutenant JG Elisabeth Henderson said goodbye to her older brother, in the shuttlebay, and he boarded the Type 9 high warp shuttle that would take him to his new assignment.
The shuttlebay doors on the Curry-Class Escort Carrier slid open and the Type 9 shuttle passed through the forcefield and crossed the short distance between the Tiberius and the USS Galaxy, which dwarfed the smaller carrier.
Sitting at the conn of the shuttlecraft, a short young woman with shoulder length brown hair keyed her communications system. "USS Galaxy Shuttle Control, this is shuttlecraft Winterbourne from USS Tiberius. We are carrying replacement officers destined: USS Galaxy and request permission to land.
After a moments waiting while the shuttlebay chief checked her schedule. "This is Lieutenant Selana in shuttle control. Permission granted. Proceed to shuttlebay three and conduct your passenger change.
"Yes, ma'am, permission granted, Lieutenant Black, out." said the young woman on the Winterbourne. With one motion she brought the shuttle in line with the tertiary shuttlebay's doors, which were already sliding open. Evidently, Captain Bhrode ran an efficient ship.
"Welcome to your new home, Casey." the other person in the shuttle said from beside her. He was older than she was, but only by a few years, and had sandy brown, which complemented his eyes. He wore the same uniform that she did, but without the Analyst's pin on her right cuff. Instead, the departmental chief's pin rode there.
"I suppose so.... After being in deep cover for two years, coming back into the regular fleet may be something of an adjustment, but I think it'll be a pleasant one. And what about you, Lieutenant Henderson? Are you looking forward to serving under 'old blood and guts' Bhrode?" young Casey Augusia Black replied.
"Actually yes, I am. He's a tactician, deep inside, and a good one. His personality is a little rough around the edges, but you have to remember that we didn't sign up to like everyone we work with. Sometimes you just have to suck it up and do your job." Cassius Robert Henderson stated, a valid point.
"Well, that shouldn't be too much of a problem, Cass, considering where I've been for the last two years." Lieutenant Black chuckled. She had never gotten along well with any of the people she had been observing.
"Only too true, my dear Casey." Cass replied, jerking in his seat as the tractor beam from the USS Galaxy caught hold of the shuttle, guiding it in smoothly. Casey turned off the thrusters and allowed the beam to bring the shuttle down according to regulations for a safe landing. With a small jolt, they were down.
"You are now free to move about the cabin, Lieutenant." Casey said humorously, then stood up and walked into the back of the shuttle to gather her few bags. Henderson followed her and picked up his duffel and rifle case. Casey keyed the door and then stepped out onto the floor of the shuttlebay. Henderson followed her out.
Greeting them were two Lieutenant Commanders, a terran male who was vaguely familiar and an andorian woman who was not, as well as their accompanying baggage.. Suddenly, the terran man flung open his arms, "Casey!" he cried out, embracing the younger woman who had just disembarked.
"Donovan, it's so good to see you." Lieutenant Black said to her older brother.
"But I thought you were still working for SFI?" Donovan Black, newly promoted and reassigned, said to his little sister, still embracing her. She smiled and shook her head.
"Not anymore. My cover got blown during the mess at Glasgow last month. I suspect that Admiral deMercereau is looking forward to telling you all about it when you arrive on the Relentless." Casey responded, "As for me, I'm done for now when it comes to SFI. I'm back to tactical analysis for now, which is nice, since it's work I enjoy."
"Of course," said 'Commander Black, turning to Lieutenant Henderson. ~So this is my replacement,~ he thought. "You must be Lieutenant Henderson. Your dossier is impressive. The Starburst at your age is nothing to shake your head at. Congratulations, she's a good ship. An odd crew, but a good ship."
Cass sensed many conflicting feelings about the ship's crew from Black, both through his body language and the way he said what he did. After years of observing people, Cass was good at things like that. "Well, sir, I'm glad to be here.... Anything you think I should know going into this?" he asked. Meanwhile, Casey was chatting with Lieutenant Commander sh-Soleri-Black, her brother's wife, and helping her carry their luggage onto the shuttle.
"Well.... I know from your record how you feel about personal conflicts, but they tend to be an issue here. First thing you should know about being a department head here is that you, as head of tactical, may get your toes stepped on a little. Both of the executive officers onboard are former tactical officers, considered the rising geniuses in that department. Unfortunately, that means they tend to try to take over." Black replied honestly.
"I don't think that'll be too much of a problem... you're of course referring to Commanders Hawksley and Von Ernst. I was warned about that." Henderson replied, with a hint of a chuckle.
"And then there are the Marines... there seems to be some sort fo conflict between them and Security. Most likely because of the animosity between Major Log and Commander Darkstar... brothers, you know. I've kept tactical largely out of it, but Captain Bhrode seems to encourage the mess. Oh well."
"Right." Henderson responded, shaking his head, "So is there anyone on this ship that you would consider worth getting to know quickly. People who are reliable." Meanwhile Soleri-Black and the youngest Black carried the departing officer's bags onto the shuttle.
"Commander Corgan and Lieutenant Kreighoff are reliable, if a tad crazy. They're good men, deep down inside. Ella Grey, the Assistant Chief Engineer is a good, if slightly cynical woman. I can understand much of her perspective, and from your dossier, I think you will too." Black replied, "Counselor Dallas is worth knowing... She has a unique perspective on politics. And Gunny Goldstein... you'll want to talk to her. She can give you a more accurate perspective on the Marine-Security mess."
"Thank you, sir. I don't have any more questions, and I suppose you should be getting on your way." Henderson said, leading 'Commander Black onto the shuttle.
"You're welcome, Lieutenant, enjoy your deployment." Black said as Henderson and Casey Black stepped off the shuttle.
"And you as well, sir." Cass said, watching the door close. A few moments later, the shuttle was gone and the shuttlebay doors were closed behind it.
"Alright, have the stewards carry our bags up to our rooms, then head down to tactical. I should go report in to Captain Bhrode. When that's done, I'll head down and meet you in tactical." Cass said to his new senior tactical analyst.
"Yes, sir." she said, then they parted company, heading for their respective duties...
~This should prove interesting... many new people.~ Cass thought to himself as he left the shuttlebay.
As was his habit Saladin was on the bridge, examining the data and the demeanor of the crew, that would usually give him a heads up as to what's going on.
Examining the screen the first thing he remarked when he heard the name Harcourt Fenton Mudd was, he was remarkably preserved for someone who was so old.
Then he silently dissapeared off the bridge and went down to the intelligince office.
"Chief Grant, Pull all Files, confederations and data about Mister Harcourt Fenton Mudd."
"Aye sir." When the Starfleet NCO left the office he began to study the angles. Mudd was a criminal, a low level conman.
Did he have an angle in this one, or was he simply in need of aid
That was the hard thing of this job, the many angles that were involved.
Next thing would be an intelligance briefing for the captain, and he wanted more to tell him then 'proceede with caution'.
475