"Beware of the worrier"
Ops Team
Lt. JG Tarin Iniara (Operations)
Lt. Michael Jamson (Operations)
Lt. Raven Darkstar (Tactical)
Michael McDowell, Civilian Engineering Specialist (Engineering)
2nd Lt.Branwen London (Marines)
Ensign Paulo DiMillo (Intel)
*** Auxiliary Section, DS5 ***
Ensign Dimillo, 2nd Lieutenant London and Lieutenant Jamson were working for the last couple of hours on the emergency power and graviton generators, trying to restore partial power and gravity. Their mission was becoming more and more challenging as time passed by. The mission wasn't anything like the initial plan. Nothing went as smooth as any of them expected. At first, all the away team was supposed to be beamed directly to the Operations Center, but as things go wrong in away missions, they were beamed several decks below it. Secondly, having to climb all the way with their gear, when they've finally arrived, it was clear that activating the stations' reactors from the OPS main section wasn't going to happen. So, eventually, an alternate plan was made to send half of the team to the auxiliary section and power up some of the emergency generators along with the gravity systems, placed right next to it.
The Auxiliary section have seen better days, the room was almost destroyed by energy fire, possibly phasers and disruptors, but was also covered with several types of human and alien blood. Luckily for the team, the controls to the generators, both power and graviton, survived the brutal incident, whatever it was, and repairing them was only a matter of time.
"London, did you reroute power through that EPS conduits we've restored earlier?" Jamson asked Branwen, wiping some of the sweat from his forehead. Although there was atmosphere and adequate breathing gases inside the auxiliary center, it was getting pretty tiresome to walk around with the magnetic boots. The foul smells, in the compressed yet not recycled air, of congealed and smeared blood revealed the fact that the environmental systems were also malfunctioning along with everything else.
"Yes sir.' She said in an almost mechanical voice. She was concentrating hard to do the job and to let nothing distract her. Those voices in her head were getting stronger, telling her to destroy this work and destroy the naval officer giving her orders. For now she was still able to fight it.
"Then it should be working in a few of minutes. I was able to access the local power distribution systems, and restore some of the EPS junctions connectivity next to the generators. Now all we need is to flow some power from the EPS grid to the graviton field energy, the microconduits over there, and back it up. I'm dying to get rid of these boots..." he remarked. The gravity generator was similar to tractor beams in principles. The emitter utilizing no free moving parts, called rotor stator type, generates gravitons from high speed vibrations set up in the force matrix metal composite block. The same block is fabricated single molecule layers of gesselium ayanaminide and duralumin. This Creates the subatomic spaces necessary for the liberation and formation of gravitons, which proved proper attractive force. Focused proton beams with circular collimation patters are etched to the block on it's dorsal surface. This allows the emitted waves of graviton to form crests and troughs for comfortable motion in the selected area. The emitter block us encased in a cured composite resin of semachyl butanide with exposed EPS microconduits that connects to a small EPS step down manifold.
"Ensign" he turned to look at Paulo, "What about the surveillance system? Any indication from the logs as of what the hell happened here?"
"None," Paulo simply replied. He sounded more like a computer then Human at the moment. "The system is more of a mess down here then it was up in OPS," Paulo said with a sly smile knowing what he would do as soon as power was restored. As soon as the power systems where restored and everyone started to relax some he would attack by disabling the power systems (again). He would then terrorize them some. It didn't care what the other thought, he wanted to have some fun with this new body and with all the telepathic potential that is being locked up, he could have a lot of fun.
"Ok..." Jamson said in disbelief. His knowledge with starfleet systems taught him over the years, that logs, always existed somewhere. It what just a matter of finding them. So it was either someone deleted the logs on purpose, or they were somehow destroyed. But there was no time for checking the log, besides, Jamson who didn't usually trust the intelligence department, decided to let Paulo enjoy HIS benefit of the doubt. It wouldn't be 'pleasant', or contribute to their working relations, if he checked up on him. "London...the plasma?"
"I'm having some trouble with the conduits" she said.
Jamson rubbed his chin the wrong way "Must be the plasma constrictors or the controllers. Try to go around some of the second stage conduits, that should do it".
London scanned again "I'm reading increase in power through the distribution network".
"Excellent! Power should be restored in a few moments" Michael scanned away with his tricorder too. Amazingly, the sound of the graviton and emergency generators roared to life, and buttons flickered all around the room as systems came back online one by one. "Gravity is working....90%, should be stabilizing around 99.3%. Temperature power of EPS fifth stage constrictors is around 100,000 kelvins. That should enable the away teams around the station to work until the galaxy sends a permanent engineering team to repair the main fusion generators, and get all the power back".
"I'm reading a 0.03 percent of gravity gradient" London reported.
"That's normal and unavoidable. Don't worry about it" Jamson concluded, the ease and feeling of his feet moving around lightly distracted him and made him feel like he was finally walking on solid ground.
"Paulo to McDowell. We have restored power".
*** Operations Center ***
DiMillo's voice cam through like thunder, or so it seemed to Michael. The Ops center had been very quiet, save for the eerie sounds that came from every direction. Michael tentatively tapped his com. badge while he kept looking around him like some scared kid in the dark. "Ack.., acknowledged." He briefly glanced at the console before him. "Confirmed, power..." again there was a sound like nails scratching over metal. Michael jerked his head sideways in the direction it came from. Nothing. He forced himself to focus on the information the console was showing him. "...Power has been restored. Output at 80% and slowly increasing. McDowell out."
*** Back at the Auxiliary Section ***
"Now all that's left is environmental control and the atmospheric system" Jamson raised a fallen chair from the floor and took a seat.
"How are we going to do that, sir." Branwen said hoping it would not be possible. She was still fighting.
"We're going to accomplish that, by raising the reserve and secondary life-support facilities aboard the station. These are independent loops, and provide backup valving and other capabilities, since the primary systems require more power". Starfleet stations had some 2650 kilometers of ducting and fluid piping that provided grouping life support subsystems, like gas and liquids tanks and airflow ventures. "Multimode sensors are not operational and can't report to the local system controllers and central computer cores. We need to manually program the reactions into the system".
"Environmental specifications have SFRA-Starfleet standard. 104.12 is for class M compatible oxygen breathing personnel" The ops officer explained and added as London and Dimillo moved to away from him "Don't forget radiation protection!". This SFRA standard, 354.32(c,d) levels for RF, subspace and nuclear EM. All primary environmental shielding systems to be doubly redundant.
The atmospheric system about deep space 5 maintains an oxygen nitrogen atmosphere at a prescribed pressure, temperature and humidity. Nominal atmosphere values for the common areas of the station are SFRA 102.19 at 25" Celsius, 45% humidity, and pressure at 99.7 kilopascals. Others compositions can be adjusted for different races, including argon helium and xenon. The same goes to life support, which includes class H,K,L, B, N, and C environments. The starfleet charged stream airflow units are connected to the electrostatic grids with the EPS regulators. The grid devices temporarily charge the air in the unit, apply a motive force to the air mass through an 8 stage magnetic coil assembly. This recycles the charge before the gasses leave the unit. The units pressure is regulated by a combination of physical constrictor valves and magnetic coil power level. Large areas around the station like docking rings and others are designed to handle large cycles power minute, and have larger units. The air handlers also control temperature and humidity via a series of EPS warmers and chillers, water vaporizers and dehumidifiers. Gas analyzers and sensors check the safety of the air being transferred. Temperature levels and humidity are controlled by computers and can configured in most areas by voice command. Specific areas requiring critical environmental control and configurable only by authorized personnel.
Suddenly the alien entity inside Branwen took over completely. She couldn't fight it any longer. Taking up one of the tools from the floor she moved towards Jamson.
Satisfied, the operations assistant allowed himself to call London in her first name. "You know Branwen. You and Paulo did a pretty good job. You might have a future as-", Jamosn turned just in time to see 2nd lieutenant london swinging a pattern enhancer in his direction. Quickly reacting, the alarmed Jamson dropped to the floor in his bulky suit, his fall creating a lead thump on the cold yet sticky floor. Tackling London's feet with his own, he sent her down to the ground as well and rolled away, gaining some new blood marks on his clothing from the greasy looking surface. "What in the name of kahless are you doing?!"
Branwen tried to hit him again. There were seconds as her old personality was fighting for control again and that was the only thing that was keeping Jamson alive right now. The desperate fight inside the marine.
A phaser shot missed his head by inches, causing the astounded officer to instinctively leap, from his position, for cover. The shooting must have came from Ensign Dimillo, who was obviously a part of this too. "What the hell is going on??" He yelled to both Paulo and Branwen, pulling out his phaser. "What are you doing?????" he shouted behind a large console in the middle of the room. Looking for his type IIIc rifle, he saw it lying where he left it earlier. All he had was his phaser and personal force field which was useless against such intense phaser fire.
Paulo simply smiled as he started to fire at the Galaxy officer. This was turning out to be more fun then he would have thought, and a lot more fun then when they tried to take over the station.
Inside Paulo (the real one) was fighting to gain control, but at every angel he was beat. He just couldn't find a way past the mental walls that this thing had put up. He could see everything that was going on and wished he could stop it.
A firefight quickly evolved between Paulo, Branwen and Jamson. It was a 2 against 1 scenario, and Jamson was clearly outnumbered. He couldn't stand his ground for long before they overwhelm him. Returning a few shots back, he pressed his communication badge and tried to get rid of his uncomfortable boots. They were simply getting on his nerves now that gravity was back on line. "Jamson to McDowell.....", he breathed quickly and returned fire once more, "Jamson to McDowell...damn!!! Why isn't he answering!". Another shot flared a plasma conduit next to the console, creating a small explosion. It was time to change a position and gain some tactical advantage if possible. "They must be jamming inter station communications..." the outnumbered officer said desperately and with several bursts towards Paulo and the ceiling above him, produced a small window of opportunity to move and alter his position.
Branwen noticed it as well and started to move from her position to get him from his back.
Moving backwards slowly, the stressed operations lieutenant noticed Branwen was trying to flank him from the right and win some battle superiority. She was a marine after all, and turned to be a worthy adversary. Aiming quickly, sending fire directly to a console next to the posing marine, he stopped her progress and was able to move a bit further. His goal was the maintenance shaft right next to the room's main environmental airflow units. From there he would be able to crawl into one of the parallel junctions and get into a nearby jefferies tube. He didn't have time to understand what was going on. Was this a mutiny? He had to warn the others.
Vowing never to surrender in battle, Jamson didn't see this as a retreat but as an intermission to recover from the unfair situation he was drawn into. He would return and fight those two to the death, if he had too. His anger and adrenaline left little doubts in his mind as who he was fighting against. These were his shipmates, away teams colleagues, maybe that's why he didn't aim to their heads and left the settings on his personal phaser to stun. He was getting soft. In war and love, there were no rules.
Jamson was now pinned down by fire from the renegades, Dimillo and London. It was almost impossible to return fire. Looking, around, he couldn't see anything useful that might help him get away from this grim situation. Viewing the environmental maintenance shaft, he placed an accurate shot that blasted it open. Slowly sitting back, trying to think of a way to get there, he looked at his phaser and thought if this was a good day to die. Would this be his final battle? With his colleagues? Not some ferocious, scum of the universe, warrior race like the Jem'Hadar, or Remans? Would he join his friends in Sto'vo'kor? The honorable black fleet. Of course not...he wasn't klingon. Maybe they would let him in, if he proved himself worthy. Another phaser blast snapped him out of his dying wish. He returned a few more shots, before taking his phaser apart. 30 seconds later, he suddenly cried into the air "Ok...ok...I give up!!!!" and raised his hands in submission.
London stopped firing, and stood up herself aiming a phaser at him. But she was not speaking.
Sliding his phaser several feet away from him, into the center of the mid sized room, Jamson rose with his hands still in the air. "Why are you doing this? You'll never get away...". Slowly, Ensign Dimillo and Lieutenant London complied and stared at him. "Intel must be on this too!!! I knew it..." he said unwillingly and in contempt. "I guess you win...?" These words alone made him feel disgusted. A faint blinker on the floor, coming from his phaser, slowly increased, becoming more and more reddish, as Paulo made his way to Jamson. Meanwhile, the Marine was providing cover by aiming to the proud warrior's center mass. Focused on the flicker, Jamson suddenly closed his eyes and turned away smiling as if he was acknowledging his defeat but didn't want to believe it. Seconds later, he unexpectedly jumped again, this time covering his head with his hands in a nearby corner. The phaser exploded, sending a shockwave, throwing the possessed individuals several feet away in the air and blinding them completely. Still a bit shocked from the explosion, the ops officer felt a burn on his skin. Looking at his belt, he saw his personal force field device was completely destroyed. It must have been Branwen, who took the shot as Paulo was on the move and Jamson jumped. Apparently, the personal force field wasn't that useless - it just saved his life. Running quickly to the shaft, Jamson plunged right into safety. He was now glad he knew a thing or two about weapons. Reverting the phase pulse accelerator on his type 2 personal phaser, he left enough time for the improved sarium krellide power cell to reload, and override the prefire chamber, causing the energy to erupt inside out. He also removed the beam angle cap so that the energy wasn't directed to a certain point, but to spread away, and kept settings on stun. The explosion must have been a side effect since he didn't mean to harm his friends, but only to blind them long enough for him to get into that shaft.
"Now...how the hell do I get back?" he muttered as usual.
Mechanically Branwen turned around and seemed to forget all about the escaped officer. She aimed her phaser at the installation they had just repaired with so much difficulty and fired at full blast.
Paulo stopped his chase and went back and stood next to 'Branwen' as she fired the phaser shot which destroyed the core causing system after system to shut down. "Now," Paulo started, "lets see if we can have some fun."
"Never Have Sex During A Crisis"
Running coughed and shivered as he held Mei. She had coughed till she lay there, barely able to breath. He called for medical, but they had yet to be there.
He considered getting them both dressed, but the semi-consious Mei wimpered whenever he moved away. They had run into each other in the hall.
They had been trying to get to their quarters. Mei, in her panicked state, had found herself on the wrong deck. Bumping into Running Tree had proved interesting.
Her need for safety and meeting a strong-looking man had also proved to cause a hormonal rage. Without thinking, she had kissed him.
In return, his broken heart ate it up. This, for him, had proved a nice solution to getting over 8-Ball.
They soon found themselves in Running's Quarters, giving and receiving sexual healing. Of course, they barely got to enjoy the best part before the air changed. Running could had figured out what, but his brain was trying too hard to get oxygen.
Mei, being an engineer could had figured out how to fix it, had she not gone back to panick stage.
Within fifteen minutes, they both felt like they couldn't take another breath.
Fifteen minutes after the air changed, they found themselves able to breath again. After that, all they could do was hold each other tightly as they caught their breath and tried to gather their wits about them.
Of course, about that time, they were both aroused again, and welcomed the distraction.
"Into the Toy Box 2: School's Out Forever"
(Takes place immediately after 'Into The Toy Box 1: School's Out For Summer')
Principal Characters:
Lt. 8-Ball Hunter
Lt (JG) Victor Krieghoff
****
USS Galaxy
Galaxy Dependent School
Inside Victor Krieghoff's Mind
Unlike the previous two times where Anlaika had forced a telepathic bond with someone using 8-Ball's powers, the merger of thoughts was almost literal this time, manifesting as a visual image rather than the exchange of information that had happened the previous two times. The three of them were standing - still confined to 8-Ball's body - in a jungle, on a trail. The heat was oppressive, and in the distance, animals made sounds as if they were going about their daily business.
~What the holy FUCK?!~ 8-ball thought to herself as she and the others looked around the landscape around them. ~That's it. I'm sick of this shit. My body has been stolen. I've been used to kill and screw people all day. And now I'm in some fucking jungle world. What the HELL is going on?~
For the first time since they invaded, the masculine Dithparu actually responded to 8-ball. ~I believe this is some three dimensional, symbolized form of the mental landscape of Victor Krieghoff.~
8-ball wanted to blink at him but Anlaika was still in control of their body ~Say huh?~ she asked. ~And when did you get so chatty, Mr. Joe Satan, evil possessor scary guy? I thought you didn't talk to your hosts.~
The Dithparu made a sound that expressed obvious irritation. ~We are both prisoners in this body. Neither of us wish to remain trapped here, powerless to do anything to stop Anlaika's whims. So I'm suggesting that we work together, because Anlaika is not the only person we need to worry about.~
"Stop it, you're hurting my feelings," Anlaika said out loud to both of them as she wiped sweat off their brow.
The other Dithparu ignored her. ~The entity that took us into this place was not Victor Krieghoff. If you wish to struggle against that evil and Anlaika on your own...~
8-ball sighed mentally. ~No, no, I need allies where I can get them. Mind you, I still don't like you, and the second I get the chance to kick you out of my brain, you're gone. But in the meantime, you were attempting to explain where the fuck we were?~
~Essentially, I believe this to be Victor's mind. Anlaika successfully engaged the mind meld, but this other entity made this particular connection very unusual. We appear to actually be walking around in a symbolic version of Victor's mindscape.~
~Wow~ 8-ball thought. ~What a day. I had sex with a few different people, killed a few different people, went to school, killed and tortured some more, and then went on a field trip inside of Victor's brain. And Victor's brain turned out to be an African safari. That's just great. I think that just managed to hit number one of weirdest of weird days. No, it's beyond just hitting the number one; it's smashed, torn the legs off, and stomped all over any other weird days I've ever had and soared to the title of 'Weirdest Fucking Encounter of My Life'. But, ah, just one question for you, Joe Satan?~
~Yes?~
~Um, if this is Victor's brain, otherwise known as Victor's tropical furnace, where exactly is Victor?~
A woman laughed, the tone shrill and a trifle mad, in the jungle to the right. Leaves and vines parted almost magically as a figure danced into view, whirling and moving in a fluid motion that caught the eye and held it irresistibly. She was tall, easily over six feet, and appeared taller due to an ornate headdress she wore over her disheveled, long black hair. Other than the headdress, an equally ornate golden collar, and a series of bracelets and anklets, she wore no clothing. Her skin was the black of empty space, and her figure perfect enough to make a Green Orion dancing slave look undesirable. She had either four or six arms - it seemed to change depending on the needs of the dance and the moment - that all moved in counterpoint to the swaying, sensual dance that carried her to the center of the path.
~Oh great~ 8-ball thought. ~Things just keep getting better and better.~ Even Anlaika wasn't entirely unnerved by this new, scary woman. The three backed themselves up quickly as they watched the woman approach.
~Do you know who this is?~ Joe Satan asked nervously.
~Well, I've never exactly been in Victor's head before ~ 8-ball said dryly, her focus locked on the woman's swaying and very multiple arms. ~But she's obviously some figure from Hindu mythology... which unfortunately was never my expertise. Give me Norse gods and I'm good, Sumerian goddesses and I'm fine but this is not exactly my cup of tea. Still. . .naked, tall, black, black, black skin. . .multiple arms, looks sort of sexy and motherly and terrifying all at the same time. . .my money's on Kali.~
The Dithparu quickly scanned 8-ball's mental inventory on Kali. ~Oh, that's really not good~ Joe Satan said as the woman drew near.
"You seek the Victor?" the woman said past slightly oversized fangs, her voice husky, but tinged with a mad, almost desperate loneliness. Her eyes were the red of blood as she looked down at 8-Ball and slowed to a stop. "I too have sought him for a long time, but never found him."
"Well, maybe we could look for him together," Anlaika responded as Joe Satan and 8-ball started shrieking.
~Are you INSANE?!~ 8-ball screamed and then stopped. ~Oh, dumb question. But seriously, Anlaika. You really ought to look into healthy doses of fear. It's a survival skill. People who have it have a less likely chance of being torn apart by the MULTIPLE arms of freaking HINDU GODDESSES!~
Anlaika ignored this. She looked at this new woman only as an interesting piece of a game, nothing more. "What do you know of Victor?" she asked.
"Everything," the woman replied as she whirled in place. "Nothing," she continued as she spun back around, her face still ebon, but now with the features and voice of Ella Grey. "I searched for him, but could not find him."
~Jesus Christ!~ 8-ball swore in her mind. ~That's Ella!~
~Who is Ella?~
~Scan the memory banks. Ella is Victor's sugar momma. Or, you know, will be, when Victor finally pulls his head out of his wannabe Hindu ass. Anyway, that was decidedly not normal.~ 8-ball couldn't help wondering what Victor really thought about Ella, because Ella, while cool, was in no way like Kali.
But then Kali started talking again, and 8-ball decided that there were more important things to focus on. Like not being murdered in Victor's twisted, wacky head.
"He was sleeping," Kali replied, whirling about again in her ceaseless dance, her space-black face and voice that of a Klingon woman when she finished rotating. "He should have stayed asleep," she added as she spun and lifted and posed her many hands sinuously, in a pattern that was as erotic as it was exotic.
~Is this making no sense to anyone else?~ 8-ball asked. ~Because I don't know who SHE is. But she's sort of sexy, in a frightening way. God. This is a bad time to be really turned on, isn't it?~
~Yes~ Joe Satan said as Anlaika stepped forward again. "What happened when he awoke?" she asked Kali. "What changed? Where did he go?"
"He was supposed to be asleep," the goddess continued, her face now that of a beautiful Andorian woman, complete with antennae, "it wasn't time for him to be awake..."
"...but the Other came," she continued after another spin, her face still Andorian and beautiful, but different, less pointed and more rounded. "I was supposed to find him while he was asleep..."
"...but he was hiding, and wouldn't be found," the goddess finished, now wearing the face of a human woman with strong, attractive features and Marine-short hair.
~The Other?~ Joe Satan asked, looking around.
~Yeah, that sounds ominous~ 8-ball replied, growing increasingly uneasy. ~You said there was another entity here, something else in Victor's mind. I thought when Victor got all Death-like, well, he was just being scary and dramatic. You think there's something else here? I mean, something other than Kali-turned Ella-turned a bunch of other chicks?~
~Yes~ Joe Satan said. ~I'm sure of it. Anlaika, we need to find out about this Other. We need to know where it is... so we can get out of the way.~
For once, Anlaika didn't argue. "I need to know about the Other. Where did it come from, and what does it want?"
Kali danced for a moment without responding, winding a sinuous spiral around 8-Ball. "The Other came from Outside," the goddess said finally with Ella's face and voice. "It was not part of him before, while he slept."
~Uh-huh. . .~8-ball thought. It was very strange to see Ella dancing and speaking, especially since she continued to have multiple arms that was very much unlike Ella. She waited for Kali to continue, trying desperately to understand a damn thing that was going on. It was a losing battle.
The goddess danced around 8-Ball again, her face that of the Klingon woman when she reappeared on the Vulcan's other side. "He tried so hard to be asleep, you know. He made himself sleep when he was so young, hid himself away so he couldn't hurt others." She turned about, and was the second Andorian woman again. "That's why I couldn't find him."
"You couldn't find him...why again?" 8-ball took some satisfaction in the knowledge that Anlaika was just as confused as she was.
"Because he was sleeping," Ella-Kali replied, swaying from side to side. "He hid too well, and couldn't be reached."
~So this is a huge game of hide and seek~ 8-ball said. ~Fun. Maybe later we can play mental bobbing for apples.~ Anlaika, less amused, only asked again about the Other.
Kali laughed again, the same musical, painful laugh and danced away a few steps before dancing back, somehow acquiring a belt of human skulls in the process. "The Other came from Outside, and found him," Human Marine-Kali sang. "It tried to make him like it - evil and lusting for pain and death - but it failed, it wasn't strong enough." She spun and became First Andorian-Kali once more. "He ate it up, like a fish."
8-ball stared at the Andorian-Kali for a second and then just started to giggle. She couldn't help it. There was nothing really funny about the situation, definitely nothing funny about Kali's little belt of spontaneously appearing human skulls, but all the same... 8-ball started to laugh, hysterically. ~He ate it up, like a fish... Victor eats the Scary Death Other Thing like a piece of smoked salmon... he... he... just ate it up...~
~Why are you laughing?~ Joe Satan shrieked at her. ~There's nothing amusing in which to laugh at.~
8-ball continued to laugh. ~Oh, honey, you gotta learn to lighten up. Enjoy the hysteria; it's a killer way to pass time.~ She tried to catch her breath, laughing, and then realized something: 8-ball's body was also trying to catch it's breath. For just a moment there, Anlaika hadn't been in full control of their body because Anlaika, unlike 8-ball, was not going hysterical. For just a minute, 8-ball had had an affect on her body. It was enough to slap the hysteria out of her, at least for the time being. Maybe there was some way out of this prison, after all.
But before 8-ball could try to focus on taking her body back, Kali's presence captured the three's attention again.
Spinning about in a dizzying set of turns, the goddess suddenly stopped and swayed her hips suggestively, her six arms fluidly moving from pose to pose enticingly. "I was supposed to be the One," Ella-Kali said, her face changing to that of the Second Andorian as a hand passed in front of it. "He wanted the One," Second Andorian-Kali agreed, becoming Human Marine-Kali as another hand passed over her face. "He needed the One," she agreed. "But now," the goddess continued, as she passed yet another hand across her face and became Klingon-Kali, "after eating the fish, he is Created - and he no longer needs the One."
~Wait, wait, what?~ 8-ball said. ~Were you talking about Ella there? Is Ella the One? As in sappy-romantic-spewy-soulmate-love the one? What do you mean, he doesn't need her anymore? After eating the fish? The Other-Scary-Death-Monster-Salmon-Thing? Well, can't he just regurgitate it or something? I mean, does that make sense?~
~None of this makes sense~ Joe Satan replied morosely. ~We need to find a way to escape this host's brain, and whatever else is a part of it.~
~No,~ 8-ball said. ~What we need to do is find a way to get to Victor, get up to toss his cookies and vomit up the Other-Evil-Salmon-Thing, kill it, and then Victor and Ella can be happy and in love and everything. That's our mission.~ She thought about that for a minute, and then said ~Oh, and to get you two the fuck outta my body. That's also a good idea.~
8-ball tried to wriggle her finger tips and failed. She had no idea how Anlaika's control had slipped, but it appeared to be back.
"Well, this is highly interesting," Anlaika said, "truly, wonderfully riveting, really, but well, I'm bored, and I just really don't care. So if Victor's not going to come out of his little hidey hole, then I'm going to get us back and find those children he cared about so much." She moved past Kali, ignoring her, and raised her voice to scream into the jungle. "Come out, Victor! Stop hiding yourself! There's a little lady here that's most anxious to find you, and I'm sure you wouldn't want to disappoint her!"
There was no immediate response, so Anlaika continued to yell. "Victor! Come out, or I'm going to go back and hurt those children! Every single one of them, I will find and cut open, just to see how long they can bleed before they die. I will track down every child, starting with that annoying one, that Samantha Widdlestein, which you refused to let me play with! Come out, or I'll kill them all, and each one will be your fault!"
Kali's red eyes went wide in Ella's face and she began to dance faster. "You fool," she whispered, whirled about once more, and was suddenly gone.
There was a sudden silence in the jungle, as if everything about 8-Ball was holding its breath.
"No," said a voice that was even less Victor's than it had been in the schoolroom, directly behind them and far closer than it had a right to be. "It would be your fault."
"Into the Toy Box 3: School's Been Blown To Pieces"
(Takes place immediately after 'Into The Toy Box 2: School's Out Forever')
Principal Characters:
Lt. 8-Ball Hunter
Lt (JG) Victor Krieghoff
****
USS Galaxy
Galaxy Dependent School
Inside Victor Krieghoff's Mind
"No," said a voice that was even less Victor's than it had been in the schoolroom, directly behind them and far closer than it had a right to be. "It would be your fault."
~Oh good Christ~ 8-ball whispered in her mind, and the three of them slowly turned to look at what thing could produce such a voice.
The figure standing there was Victor, but not. He was dressed in odd, wrapped clothing and had skin as blue as any Andorian. His four muscular arms were bare, as were his feet. His features were Victor's, or at least had Victor's as their base, but had an added third eye - currently closed - in the middle of his forehead, and were scoured clean of human emotions like compassion and warmth, even to the degree that Victor himself possessed them. It was the face of Death, of Destruction. "I won't allow that," he said in that same terrible voice, the words filled with an undercurrent that sounded like nothing so much as the cries of the damned.
~Anlaika~ Joe Satan murmured from within the back of their mind. ~What have you done?~
~She's killed us~ 8-ball replied dully. She stared at the Other... this strange, terrifying combination of Victor and Shiva... and knew that there came a point when you became so afraid that you couldn't scream anymore. She wanted to scream, she wanted to curl into some suitable, fetal position of abject desperation and fear, but she just couldn't anymore. Where had she once heard that fear accompanies the possibility of death, but calm shepherds its certainty? She couldn't remember, but it was too eloquent for her to have made it up. Either way, it was true. Death was standing in front of her, Destruction and Death and Doom and whatever other 'D' word you could think of that was the mass equivalent of unhappy endings.
Before she had been scared. Really scared, because being brave just wasn't 8-ball's strong suit, but dealing. Not dealing well, perhaps, but dealing all the same by mentally sparring with her alien counterparts and trying to care more about Ella's love life than her own mental state of well being.
Now, seeing this new Shiva-Victor, this god of Death, even that demented form of trying to deal with what was going on was over. 8-ball knew it was over, just by looking at him. She was as calm as she would ever be. Which wasn't calm at all, really. Just accepting. Just knowing. There was no way to escape this. There was only death.
8-ball could only hope that it'd be quick. That there'd be no pain. It wasn't much to hope for, particularly since the thought of even a painless death made her so nauseous she could barely breathe, but since she was going to die, she had to hope for something. She had to hope it'd be quick.
She knew it wouldn't be.
"Please," 8-ball said, and it was 8-ball saying it, not Joe Satan, not Anlaika, but 8-ball through her own lips. Anlaika whirled around in their mind, surprised, but before she could push 8-ball back into her cage, 8-ball took a step towards the Death in front of them.
"Please make it quick," she said to him, praying he would know it was her asking. Tears that were deliciously all her own slid down her cheeks, rolling past her lips so that she tasted their salty bitterness. "I don't want to feel any pain. I'm terrified of feeling any pain. Please."
Shiva-Victor looked at her for a moment in the way that 8-Ball had seen Normal-Victor do, tilting his head to the side as he studied her. "I am not here for you," he finally said in that terrible voice filled with the screams of the damned.
8-ball didn't say anything for a long moment. She still had control over her speech, though Anlaika was frantically trying to get it back. 8-ball stared at Shiva-Victor for a long time, trying to wrap her head around that concept.
~I am not here for you~
~I am not here for you~
"Oh," 8-ball said, and then suddenly it clicked. Shiva-Victor, Death, Destruction, and Otherwise Un-Fun was not here to kill her. "Oh! That's... that's really good."
"No, it is the other..." he frowned, the expression somehow subtly *wrong* with a third eye involved. "No, the others. I am here for them." He regarded her for a moment. "You are no demon. Anything that has been done, they have done without your consent." He looked closer. "Will you fight?"
Anlaika shrieked in their mind, trying to get the control back. Joe Satan also started struggling. ~8-ball,~ he said. ~It doesn't have to be like this. You don't have to let this... this... thing murder us. We can work something out. We can banish Anlaika and share this body.~
~The hell with you~ 8-ball said and then swallowed, looking back at Shiva-Victor. "I'll fight," she said. "But I don't know how."
He smiled then, a terrible, awful smile that promised nothing but cries of pain and madness before the oblivion of nothingness. "Yes, you do," Shiva-Victor whispered, the cries of the damned underlying the words seeming to whisper to her, telling her that this was her mind, too, since Anlaika had fused them, and she had as much power here as she would let herself have. "Even sheep can fight."
8-ball wanted to protest that she wasn't a sheep, but when she was sharing a body with two other beings that really weren't supposed to be, she figured she didn't exactly have a leg to stand on. She was about to mention that no, she really didn't know what to do, otherwise she'd have done it already, but before she could, Anlaika and Joe Satan decided to step in.
"She'll never be able to break free," Joe Satan said.
"She will die if she tries," Anlaika agreed.
"No, demons," Shiva-Victor said to the two unwanted passengers in 8-Ball's mind. "She will not. She will fight." He stepped back and began to move in a dance as exotic as the one Kali had spun about in, but different, darker. "I will dance the Dance of Destruction for you... and you will die." He spun about, clapped his four hands, and sped up, the mindscape around them starting to smoke and blacken, fissures appearing in the ground and trees flashing to ash as he moved.
Anlaika tried to sound calm, but even she sounded panicked as the world around them began to burn away. "You can't do anything," she told 8-ball. "You can't regain your body back. Don't try to fight me; you'll be the only one who dies."
"That'd be more convincing if you weren't metaphysically shaking in your boots as you said it," 8-ball said. She still didn't know exactly what she was supposed to do, but dammit, she wanted her body back, sheep or not. She was sick of these people. "And you might be scary, but I have Shiva-Victor-Death-Destruction-Salmon boy on my side. I think I might make it out alive after all."
Then 8-ball struggled to move her fingertips again, and this time they moved. Anlaika forced them backwards, and 8-ball moved them again, struggling to keep hold on any aspect of her body as the mindscape around them continued to disintegrate and fall apart. Joe Satan tried to gain control of her body as well, but he was so paralyzed by fear that he could barely move 8-ball's fingers at all.
Anlaika tried to force 8-ball's body backwards, away from Shiva-Victor and his Dance of Destruction, but 8-ball forced them forwards, slowly, grudgingly, but forwards. "This is MY fucking body!" she screamed at them. "Mine, mine, mine! I get to decide who I sleep with! I get to decide who I kill! And I get to decide if I want to share with invading alien bastards who make the Borg look like a fun party to kick it with! This is MY body, sheep or not, so GET the FUCK OUT!!!!"
The mindscape around them trembled, portions of the now-burning jungle collapsing into the rapidly spreading fissures and adding fuel to the molten fires that welled up from inside them. The sky turned grey and the air became choked with ash as Shiva-Victor danced his terrible, compelling, deadly way around 8-Ball once while she struggled, and then again and again as she screamed at the invaders in her mind to get out.
Without warning he stopped directly in front of her for a split second, arms still moving, the mindscape a ruined horror about them, appearing like nothing so much as the ruined surface of Trill after the Akula's crash to 8-Ball, lava oozing up to pool like blood on the ground. "Time to die, demons," Shiva-Victor said in his terrifying voice as he smiled and opened his third eye.
The third eye was not pale blue, like his normal two, but green, the pulsating green of a Romulan ship's singularity drive after it had been infected with rot and decay. It had no pupil or iris like a normal eye would, instead being nothing more than a roiling mass of energy that sent small tendrils licking out the sides of the socket that contained it, as if to pull itself out with them.
Joe Satan shrieked in terror and surrendered his attempts to force 8-Ball to do anything, preparatory to fleeing her mind.
Shiva-Victor's smile widened horrifically, becoming almost gleeful, as if something within him were overjoyed to be set free. "Oh no, little demon," he thundered, his words suddenly striking like sledgehammers. "You cannot run."
Green light that had a tracery of black veins running through it shot out from his third eye, as a mountain behind him in the distance exploded, vomiting up a tide of lava that spattered the devastated former jungle like blood bursting out from a wound. The energy slammed into 8-Ball like a bolt of unclean lightning, searing through her in search of the two minds that held her in thrall, scorching each cell of her being one at a time, to find where the two possessors were hiding.
8-ball screamed as the energy hit her, feeling like she was being torn in half. There wasn't time for humor now, or even fear as she stared into that third, rotting eye. All she had to do was hold on through the pain until Shiva-Vic found the two within her and killed them. . .something that was a classic understatement of easier said than done. The energy slammed through her harder and for a minute, all 8-ball could see was dark, shadowy bursts of lightning, coming at her like furious wings from a crow.
~Just a little longer now~ 8-ball tried to tell herself even as she continued to scream. ~Just a little bit... FUUUUUUCCCCK!~ 8-ball her arms tight around her body, trying to literally keep it together. Every part of her being felt like it was being stretched apart.
The energy came slamming through her again, but this time it rushed straight towards Anlaika, and there was nowhere for her to run. Anlaika took one look at that energy coming towards her and quickly pulled Joe Satan in front of her, using him as a shield. Joe Satan screamed piteously and tried to escape Anlaika's grasp but she pushed him forwards into the lightening, where he broke apart into so many charred chunks of thought and feeling. Anlaika took this time to run away again as 8-ball watched what was left of Joe Satan disintegrate past ash into true nothingness.
~He's gone~ 8-ball thought in the midst of everything collapsing. ~He's gone.~
Of course, he was never really the big problem.
With a whirl, Shiva-Victor started to dance again, his head remaining level and facing 8-Ball no matter which way his body turned, as if there were no spinal connection between them, the torrent of energy rushing from his third eye playing over her as the mindscape around them continued to tear itself apart.
8-ball started to shriek again as she watched the world around them explode just as Joe Satan had. In another few minutes, there wouldn't be any mindscape left to stand on. It would all be just ash and dust and debris. ~And if this is Victor's mind~ 8-ball realized slowly through torrents of pain. ~Then Anlaika and I aren't the only ones in trouble.~
~He'll never allow that to happen,~ Anlaika said, and 8-ball was relieved to understand that even Anlaika sounded terrified now. ~He'll stop this or he'll kill himself. All we have to do is wait.~
~Are you fucking kidding me? This is Victor we're talking about!~ 8-ball screamed at her. ~He's not exactly the cowardly type, if that hadn't gotten through in freaking Technicolor yet! Besides, this isn't even just Victor, this is Shiva-Vic, whatever the fuck he is, and that means he's a little less concerned with bodily harm. He's Destruction, for godsake! All he cares about is getting rid of you; if he dies, that's just a casualty, if I die, that's just unfortunate, if not entirely unexpected. This place is going down like the fucking end of times; do you really wanna be around for that?~
Anlaika shied away as a bolt of energy passed by her and thought for a long minute, too long, for 8-ball's liking as the world around them continued to destroy itself by the second. ~You would let me go?~ Anlaika asked. ~You do not wish me dead?~
~Oh, I wish you all kinds of dead, honey~ 8-ball replied. ~I want you so fucking gone that you didn't exist in the first place! But I also want me alive because I'm selfish and evil like that, and if Victor's freaking BRAIN blows up in the next couple of seconds, I won't be able to accomplish that. And then Victor will be dead, and he has to kiss Ella first, everybody knows that, and I'll never be able to see if I could actually make it to Lieutenant un-junior grade, or make it work with Himne, or for Chrissake, have children! I might want them someday, unlikely, but possible. But none of that is going to happen if Shiva-Vic explodes us all first, which is probably what's going to happen in approximately six seconds. So if you want to live like I want to live, get the hell out of my body NOW!!!!"
Anlaika was quiet for a moment as the ground directly under 8-ball literally started to buckle. ~Anlaika!~ 8-ball screamed. ~Go!~
Anlaika fought with herself, trying to come to terms with the idea of losing, and saw the energy coming straight at her again, waiting to kill her as it had destroyed Joe Satan. Anlaika screamed once, in frustration, in rage, and then she was gone, fleeing 8-ball's body before she could be killed.
And then the world stood still.
Shiva-Victor stopped in mid-step, one foot off the ground, and all four arms in different positions. Slowly, as if it took a great deal of effort, he closed his third eye and shut off the torrent of power cascading through 8-Ball. "The demon fled," he observed, as if disappointed that he'd been unable to destroy her.
"Yeah," 8-ball said hoarsely, and promptly collapsed on what little ground there was left. "It's about damn time. I thought I was going to fly apart. You could have fried me up and served me to psychotic Dithparu invaders as little, charred pieces of 8-ball bacon." She sighed and tried to sit back up, only to find that her body just wasn't at all ready for that yet. She was exhausted, and felt just a little bit broken.
With a shake, Shiva-Victor relaxed his posture and dropped his raised foot to the ground, his hands returning to his sides. ""You see," he said quietly, his voice still that of Destruction. "You do know how to fight."
"You should see me with a broken beer bottle and a bar stool," 8-ball said dryly, and tried to stand up again. This time she made it up but she was definitely still shaky. She looked around the mindscape and frowned at the devastation that had been caused. Everything was dead, burned and blistered away.
"It's all gone," she said as she looked around, trying to find something that still bore some resemblance to life. "Everything in Victor's mind, all the trees and the grass and the animals... everything's just destroyed. Gone."
"No." He looked around, and then pointed to her feet, where a patch of green still remained. "Not gone; hidden." He laughed once, the sound echoing across the devastation around them. "There is always new growth after destruction, always something that survives." As 8-Ball watched, the grass at her feet began to spread, and small sprouts appeared in places in the distance as the mindscape began to rebuild itself around them. "Demons," he explained with his terrible smile, "have nothing awaiting them after destruction, so they fear it."
8-ball achingly knelt down to the grass, which looked so green and vibrant in the wake of the desolation around them. "It's beautiful," she said softly, watching the world recreate itself.
Then she thought of Ensign Wheyson and his freckles, his broken neck. Lieutenant Cane was shot the head by the phaser she had held. Samantha Widdlestein, bleeding from a long cut in her face, managed to stay alive, but Azra was still dead, her face burned into melted wax. Azra hadn't been a part of this latest catastrophe, but maybe that's why she hurt the worst, because there was no Dithparu to be held accountable. But maybe there wasn't here, either. Maybe there was no one to blame for herself.
8-ball felt tears form in her eyes as she watched the world rebuild around her. "Some things don't grow back," she said. "Some things just stay dead. And they aren't always demons. Sometimes, even sheep can't come back."
She smiled wanly to herself as she stood up again, brushing the tears back with one hand. "I'd be a very bad Hindu," she told Shiva-Victor. "I don't believe that creation and destruction are two sides of the same coin, that one follows the other, and that reincarnation exists. But none of that matters. I don't belong here, and I need to go home. Can you take me back?"
"No."
"WHAT?! What do you mean, NO! Look, buddy, you've got a very nice, Hindu world here, very creationy, pretty place, but I did not just fight this hard for my body to get stuck in your twisted head." Then 8-ball remembered who she was saying this to. "Um. . .yeah, please don't kill me for that. But what do you mean you can't take me back?"
"Because I didn't bring you here," Shiva-Victor replied. "The demons did, using your powers. You have to be the one to leave." He stepped aside, and started to dance again, the landscape around them speeding up its growth as he did so.
"Oh, that's helpful," 8-ball complained. "I'm going to be stuck here forever, doing the tango with Shiva-Vic. Look, I don't have any idea how I got here. I'm not exactly what you'd call an experienced Vulcan... experienced as in mind melds, that is, and not sex, which I am VERY experienced with... ah... the point being, I have no idea how to get out of here."
He laughed again. "Of course you do. You're just not thinking correctly." He pointed down at her feet with two sets of right forefingers. "Why are you wearing those, if not to leave?"
8-ball looked down at her feet. She stared for about forty-five seconds and then abruptly began to laugh hysterically again. She knew that this hysterical laughter was really going to have to stop soon, but she couldn't help it. This was even better than Victor eating up the Other, like a fish.
She was wearing ruby red slippers.
Tears slid down her face again as she began to laugh harder. "Right," 8-ball said. "Right. Victor is Shiva, Ella is Kali, and I am freaking Dorothy Gale from Kansas. That's just perfect. That's just peachy keen perfect."
With a monumental effort, 8-ball made herself stop laughing (although she could do nothing to stop the twitch of her lips) and focused herself as she closed her eyes. "I always wanted to do this," she said, and lifted her heels.
She imagined the curve of the Galaxy, the beauty of the ship.
"There's no place like home." Click the heels.
Ella in her quarters, frustrated with Victor.
"There's no place like home." Click the heels.
Azra dead, in her arms, the side of her face burned away. Saul in the corridor, scheming as always. M'Kantu in his chair, stern and disapproving. Branwen on the floor, head in her hands. Nara in ten-forward, a smile on her face. Vrih on the bed, waiting for her.
So many faces. So many lives and impressions.
That was what the Galaxy was. This was what a home was.
"There's no place like home." Click the heels.
8-ball opened her eyes.
*****
USS Galaxy
Galaxy Dependent School
Back outside Victor Krieghoff's mind.
8-ball looked around the room, taking everything in. Kid's toys everywhere. Desks thrown around. Dead body on the ground. Victor, less blue, and with two arms, standing in front of her; blood trickling from his nose, ears, and eyes.
Yep. This was definitely the Galaxy.
8-ball grinned. "It's good to be back," she said.
And then she promptly collapsed.
Victor stood still for a heartbeat longer, and then shook once, violently, as if something inside him had released. He blinked, looked around the room, and then down at 8-Ball. "I told her that she didn't want to do that," he said tonelessly.
He took a step forward, swayed, and frowned as he realized he was bleeding when a droplet of blood landed on 8-Ball's uniform. "Hunh," he said quietly as he touched his face and looked at the blood on his fingers.
A moment to check and ensure that 8-Ball was alive, but unconscious, another to shift her into a closet and lock the door from the outside to contain her, and a full minute to wipe his face and hands clear of blood, and he was done. He took a breath and took stock of himself.
His head hurt in ways he couldn't describe, he was still as empty inside as the space he'd crossed to reach the Galaxy earlier, and he was shaky on his feet. None of that mattered. He was possibly one of the few crew that the parasites couldn't possess, and likely the only individual that they couldn't force a telepath to take over. That didn't matter, either.
The only thing that mattered was this: they were hunting I his territory, killing in his territory, and he would not allow that. The Galaxy was his, her crew was his - and no one hunted here without coming through him first. Not if they wanted to live.
As he started out the door, he wondered how long it had been since the Dithparu had been hunted, how long since they'd felt the fear that consumed prey as it ran for its life. How long since they'd been the hunted, and not the hunters.
It was time for them to remember.
"Saulseek"
Lieutenant J.G. Saul Bental
Chief Tactical Officer
Twilight.
Purple-hued light rays infiltrate the small room one by one through the small porthole. The artificial lightning system doesn't increase automatically, so he reaches for the round manual control, to increase it its full power. The light is weak, ghastly, but it is bright enough to illuminate the seven feet by seven feet room, the smaller of two rooms in the house.
The crowded sensation the room gives would persuade anyone to spend his time on the streets instead of at home. Still, Saul didn't mind living in the smaller room. His mother's room also functioned as the kitchen, the dinning room, and the entrance to the lavatory. And you don't want to live next to a bathroom in Utrecht III.
They say you get used to the sulfuric odor from the toilet's unpurified water after a while, but it's a lie. Saul needed to take a deep breath whenever he needed to use it.
Despite alternatives such as the sonic shower and modern toilets, the backwater colony still used antique water system in its washrooms.
"The stench really sticks to your cloths, doesn't it.", Someone said.
Saul swiveled quickly, torn from his daydream. The voice came from the other room, a deep male voice he didn't recognize. Quickly, he drew the illegal Ion Pulse Pistol from beneath the pillow, and stepped into the other room.
As soon as he entered the door, something began to trouble Saul greatly.
It wasn't the fact that instead of a pistol, he was now carrying an Ion Pulse rifle, Utrecht Citizens' Guard standard issue.
It also wasn't the fact that he was walking into a crowded fishburger joint and not his mother's room.
It was the fact that he suddenly recalled that he was supposed to be in Deep Space 5's sickbay, trying to disable a Medical Officer with an abnormal brainwave pattern.
He stood still momentarily, trying to recall when exactly he ceased being THERE and began being HERE. 'HERE' seemed realistic enough. The smoke, mixed with the sulfuric odor – of the fish-like seafood this time – and with the low chatter of the dubious figures populating the darkly-lit diner. The scene was all too familiar, as though it was constructed by his own memory.
Saul instantly recalled the Galaxy's trip to Trill, where the alien species brought their memories back to life, and he walked a long path through the memories of many fellow crewmembers. Could those aliens be back? He was quite sure no one said anything about abnormal brainwave patterns during the mission debriefing at Intelligence, but perhaps they just didn't check it.
Saul frowned.
"I know who you are!", He exclaimed, lifting the rifle's strap over his neck and letting it hang loose. Perhaps it was the transfer to Tactical, but he felt like shooting somebody.
"No, you don't.", Someone said from the table to his left. Saul immediately shifted the rifle in that direction. A single, vaguely familiar person was sitting next to the table. He was a Humanoid, about sixty years old. His pale face were the only portion of his body visible, as the rest was hidden by an oversized raincoat and a hat, as though he was taken out of an early 20th century film noir.
Without asking for permission, Saul pulled the seat on the other side of the table and sat down.
"We saved your people last time. What's the big idea now?", He inquired sourly.
"No, for you have never encountered me or… the others."
Saul leaned forward. "The others who… took over Rena, you mean."
Rena.
He remembered fully now.
The dual brainwave pattern.
The split-second decision, to rush at the Medical Officer instead of taking her out with a phaser set on stun; He made that poor choice hoping to use surprise to his advantage.
The sharp pain. Saul reached for his jaw with his free hand; It seemed to be in order.
On the other side of the table, the man gazed at something behind Saul.
"They're going to make a proposition soon. Remember what your uncle told you, Mr. Bental. Not all that glitters is gold."
Saul frowned.
"Which uncle would that be? They all seem too intent on recruiting me or threatening me nowdays."
The man's facial expression was unreadable, but Saul was certain he was smirking. "Why, your favorite one! The strongest memories are the easiest to pick, your brain virtually bombards the visitor with them. Oh, here they come."
Saul took a glance. Before he could say anything, someone was sitting on his lap. It was a waitress, holding a broad plate and wearing chip makeup and a very revealing yellow attire.
"Oh, HI, pretty soldier! Would you like to hear about tonight's specials?"
"No, he wouldn't.", The elder man said, his expression frozen. Another memory struck Saul when he saw that face. The man was the one who was held in the stasis chamber in sickbay.
"Of course I would.", He said slowly, imitating the elder man's tone without noticing. He then flashed a smile at the waitress. "What do we got tonight, Ditta? Ichiban fish with sour cream and slices of salty Herring?"
"No, Saul Bental.", She said. "Tonight's special is your agenda… and liberation."
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