USS Galaxy: The Next Generation Sim Log
Stardate: 60808.03 - 60808.09 |
Logs |
"Sons of Capella Pt. 2" "Precious Cargo" The slender, pretty vulcan woman waited in a dark alley of the Terran city Her sharp hearing picked up the sound of footfalls approaching. Her Once again, she heard footfalls. She pulled up the hood of her vulcan "Do you have it?" she asked, without ceremony? "Of course!" said the jovial trader. "Do you have the credits?" The vulcan woman tapped her PADD a few times. "The credits have been With a flourish, the Terran male produced a small box. "Then this is yours, Distractedly, she said, "Please do," as the fat man walked away. She turned What, though, did one do with it? "Skips and Sparkles, Part II" Lt. Cutter Kara'nin "Yeah...doppler shift is part of how we pick up incoming ships. So you saw her "What I saw," Cutter began, then stopped, pausing for a moment to gather his Chris looked back at Cutter. "Dude, I shoot weapons and study fleet movements The avian frowned at the lack of shared experience, and he attempted to describe Chris finally lowered his phaser, realizing that any threat there was wouldn't "Unlikely. For that optical effect... to blue shift that much, she would had to "Riiight...I'm no scientist, but that just doesn't seem entirely normal." Cutter stared at the human, somewhat shocked. Normally, it was only him who "I do, but if all three of us go away, then the Galaxy has to send more people "No, I agree," Cutter replied. He started to move towards the center of the Chris jumped back in surprise. Cutter had been walking forward and all of a Daniels grabbed the slanted ceiling of the room for a support and looked at The avian squinted at him, "What are you talking about?" "What do you mean 'what am I talking about?'?? You just skipped like a record The avian frowned, a trained reaction and began to spout, 'I'm certain I don't His mind flashed back to the moment before his return to the Galaxy, when he "Then, perhaps we should heed your advice, and get out of here before any other Chris relaxed ever so slightly and put his phaser away. "Good, now I don't have "Daniels to Galaxy, two to beam up." The transporter tech responded, saying to Chris looked around the room one more time, looking at nothing in particular. "Hang tight, 8-ball, we'll be back to get you." "McAlister's Mafia" Faylin McAlister Location: Breen ship - Undisclosed Location ====================== "No...." McAlister growled. "Nothing." "Give it time to work. It's only the second injection." The mechanical voice from behind the mask interjected. "I don't have time!" Fay lurched forward, grabbing the beakish protrusion with aggravation. "Get that?" She hissed. "No time....no time to perfect. It has to be perfect now!" "I do....However....." She released him, forcing herself to push the being backwards. "We are arriving within the vicinity of Alpha KS - 128 within a few days. I need this to get on board you pathetic excuse for a doctor.....now....get back to the lab and make IT WORK!" Her eyebrows lowered as she watched him slink away. 'Try it again.' Fay thought to herself. Screwing up her face, she glanced down to see her Terran arm transform into a scale like projection. "Damn it!" "It takes time....we are not positive that this will even work. It's a brand new chemical chemistry this time around. It's taken us years to be able to see some result...and the fact that you need it now is not helping matters." The baritone voice interrupted, causing McAlister to glance to her right. "I don't have time.....I have...a week at best. Knowing Krieghoff, he had the scanners set to pick up my Chameloid DNA. The whole point of this was to be able......" "I know. And I sympathize to your cause...believe me." "Spare me. Is everyone gathered?" "Yes, everyone is. We are just awaiting your arrival." Fay smirked before sliding down of the gellish bed. Clearing her throat, she found her place among the corridors of the familiar ship. The doors slid open to reveal an oblong table complete with several beings from various races. Her eyebrows instantly arched as they stood when she entered. "Sit down." Fay barked. They did as she commanded. "It's been a while, I am aware of that fact. And, after one last small job, I will be able to take over my father's place as the head of this syndicate. It is unfortunate that his death had to occur....but as we all know, I had a job to do back then and he was an expense that I was able to afford." The quietness swept through the room before her voice was heard yet again. "I do have to commend our friends the Hydrans here for their wonderful connections. The kidnapping went off very smoothly down to the Starfleet Security vehicle. Nice touch. I assume Sophia is comfortable in her new surroundings for the time being." He nodded with a bit of pride. "Yes." "Dead yet?" She asked him. "No Ma'am." "Good....I want that pleasure myself. It seems you have redeemed yourselves after that sad little attempt at impregnating on of my former crew mate. I'll give you an A for creativity, but an F for execution. Idiots." The Hydran just studied her. Rumors of her insanity had spread far and wide, and here she was before them. Something had to be done, or else she would run amok much like her father before her. The syndicate had grown under her command, that much is certain. Yet, he had to figure her out. "Now, that being said....after this side job, I want the focus to be on the Risa colony. Crime is up a total of 20 percent over the last 18 months and Starfleet has been doing nothing except putting morons in command making it all the easier to transport our goods all over the universe. I want to move our main operations there...not keeping them on Olrion Five." "I doubt that choice is a good one...." He spoke out verbally what all the others were thinking. "Olrion Five is secure, we've been transporting for years from that spot and no one is none the wiser. Transfer to Risa, and we have to star................." The knife ripped through the major artery causing a spray of fluid to cover the beings opposite of where he was sitting. Grabbing what was considered his shoulder by Terran terminology, she sent him flying backwards onto the floor. That motion in and of itself caused his wound to open further...the result was the remnants of his body fluid flowing onto the floor. "Any more objections?" Fay muttered as she wiped the blood off of her face. Her eyes cruised the table, satisfied with a bunch of negative responses to her question. Several of the others found themselves looking into the face of a being that was truly insane. Taking a small napkin, the Breen leader smudged the blood that covered his vision. 'Dark days.' He thought to himself. "I think that handles it. I want reports in the morning as to the whereabouts of our transport ships. And they *better* be on their way to Risa." Fay paused, taking a sip of the latte she had her assistant bring her earlier. "By the way...." She motioned to the blood pooling on the floor. "Watch your steps...we wouldn't want to have any more accidents....would we?" "No...." Came the group response. "Good." Glancing down at her arm, she contorted her face once more. The arm grew silver scales, yet stayed in Terran form. "Excellent." McAlister whispered. "One step closer....." "The Man for the Job" Lieutenant Victor Krieghoff **** USS Galaxy What did he think he was doing? That was, Victor decided after a moment's reflection, a good question: He was supposed to be locating a bodyguard for Lieutenant Ophelia They problem was, none of them were right for the job, and he knew it. And he knew in his gut that Faylin McAlister would kill each and every And no matter how many times he varied the settings, the software wasn't That was what he should be doing, thinking with his gut, his instincts, His hands danced across the LCARS panel as he reconfigured the search, The search returned three selections, ranked in order of preference by --Lt. Victor Krieghoff.-- Nice to know he was still Number One at something. --Lt (JG) John Morris-- Only on the list due to an accusation of cowardice in the face of the --Chief Petty office Jack Callahan-- Callahan? Victor frowned and leaned back. Callahan. He was a friend of Morris? Callahan? He rolled the two over in his mind. Callahan? Morris? And today, Victor was going with his gut. =/\=Krieghoff to Callahan, report to my office in thirty, please.=/\= **** "You gonna answer that?" Ensign Martin Weaver asked as he circled to his "Hadn't planned on it." Chief Callahan said. His left hand jabbed out Weaver chuckled. "I donno know if it's wise to keep 'the Creeper' waiting. He ain't as "If he wanted me that bad, he would have beamed me over." Jack said The Ensign's eye wandered to the beauties and with a quickness that his The kid instinctively looked down and...........POW! "Dames..." Jack said taking off his headgear, grabbing a towel and ***** Thirty three minutes later, hair still disheveled, Jack strolled into "Chief," Victor nodded, stopping work on the report he was filling out. "I'll pass. That stuff gives me heartburn." Jack said waving his hand "Just to get it out of the way, Chief," Victor started, "because I've Jack chuckled. "Well now I guess that just leaves a promotion. I'll be honest, Vic. If Victor looked at the mosaic and smiled. "Since my girlfriend made it for "Because of my taste in art?" "Because there are maybe - maybe - five people in the department that "You do seem to have my number." Jack quipped. "Good," Victor nodded. "I know that you're friends with the Commander, "Yeah you and I are just a couple of swell guys. I'm assuming we're "We're doing this dance, Chief, because I need a man for a crappy, Jack leaned forward...but not too forward as to pass the newly installed "Whadda ya got?" Jack asked with a grin. "Moving Day (Please Don't Drop That!)" The slender Vulcan woman had been well pleased to receive her desired posting, on board the USS Galaxy. When the communique arrived, she had been alone, reading one of her precious Terran Novels. To say that she was excited would be to add an unfortunate and human quality that she did not understand to her interpretation of the matter. It was satisfactory that events had unfolded as she had intended, no more, no less. However, immediately forthwith, the puzzle of packing up her belongings...her extensive collection of Terran artifacts, loomed overhead. Immediately, she opened a file and began a directory structure for the boxing methodology. First, the items would be sorted into large boxes based upon their time of origin, and then further subdivided into categories based on art, literature, or cultural significance, and further subdivided based upon size.... Her eyes rested on the puzzling "Beanie Baby." It seemed to defy logical classification. Resignedly, she decided that each time period would have to contain a "Miscellaneous" category. Furthermore, the container for such a category should, logically, be rather large. ---------------- T'risia had decided to wear civilian clothing for her arrival upon the USS Galaxy. Her garments were traditional vulcan attire, which she thought made a far better impression than the Terran designed Fleet Uniform...which she never quite felt comfortable in. Logically, she knew that it was due to the habit of wearing more flowing, desert garments for most of her life on Vulcan, and she chided herself internally for the attachment to habit, a lack of discipline. Her green eyes were complimented by her flowing green tunic, embroidered with Vulcan sigils, and her hair was held back by a green headband. Close fitting black trousers and boots completed the ensemble, and she felt that she was in fact the picture of a dignified vulcan. She had attached a combadge to her tunic, as well as a Terran artifact from the 1960's of old Earth dating. The legendary "Happy Head", a bright yellow emblem wishing the viewer peace and prosperity. T'risia was not entirely sure of happiness, but felt that it might project an air of willingness to learn from others. T'risia had requested a shuttlecraft, as her collection required the utmost care, and she did not trust it to the transporter grid. The vulcan woman knew this to be illogical, and struggled with the concept, but in the end, the sanctity of her collection prevailed. Even now, as the shuttlecraft came to a landing in the Galaxy's bay, she was mildly concerned about the handling of the meticulously packed boxes. Upon landing, T'risia rapidly departed the shuttlecraft, with cool, Vulcan efficiency. Immediately, she was met at the ramp by a pair of Landing Bay Support Personell, by their uniforms, Cadets of some sort. She raised her hand in the Vulcan salute to both, saying, "I am T'risia, reporting for duty. Peace and Long Life." The sandy haired young man on the left was first to reply. "Um...yeah. Peace and all of that. We have orders saying that you have..." he paused and checked his PADD. "A cultural anthropology collection that needs a lift to your quarters? Is that right?" The somber vulcan woman nodded, her emotionless face treating the collection as if it were pure latinum. "Indeed, it is quite correct." The second young man, dark haired, interjected. "I'm, um...Joseph Franks. I...I don't know how to say this...are you wearing a happy face?" The vulcan woman paused for a moment, and then nodded gravely. "Yes, Joseph Franks, I am. Do I not look happy to be here?" The two human males exchanged a look of puzzlement. As they did so, T'risia said simply, with no expression on her placid features, "If you would help me apply antigravs to my collection, I am certain that you would in fact see that I am most surely happy to be here." Although they did as asked, the two young men never saw her emotionless expression change, and neither could either say that she had seemed happy at all. "Stuck With You"
Lt. JG Ophelia Zamora and Location: Ophelia's personal Quarters ====================== She thought it best to send Logan to a friends for the afternoon. It left the task of explaining who the new room mate was until the new room mate was actually around. Her quarters were spotless, the kind of environment that would make any neat freak stand with proud posture. Sighing, Ophelia gracefully sat on the edge of her couch. It had been a while....a long while since she had shared quarters with an adult. A sharp pounding on the door to her quarters startled her. The left eyebrow shot up in defiance at his appearance. In quick fashion, Ophelia crossed her arms in a defensive stance. "Krieghoff...sent...you?" She watched his affirmative nod while a wave of uncertainty hit her. He did look like he had knowledge through the years, but what kind of experience was the question she was asking herself. Her first thought, considering his appearance and sad attempt at a lame smile, made her think of gaining experience in a brothel on Risa. How was that going to help her? "Well....um...." She inched past him, giving him the once over before raising her head to meet his gaze. "I've moved my son into my bedroom....so....you can have his room for the time being." The sleeping arrangements would okay. Logan's bed was small enough to fit in her bedroom so it would work until this thing with McAlister blew over. To her surprise he didn't seem as though he were even paying attention to her. Instead he was shuffling around the quarters looking at everything. He nodded, then finished his inspection of in the master bedroom and was apparently satisfied that he wasn't going to break a hip stumbling around in a power loss. Lia bent at the waist, picking up a data pad and handing it to him. "This is what I have on her. Her history, her training...what we know of it, and the many people that she has killed along the way including my uncle and ex husband. She's an expert, trained, deadly, and beautiful. She's escaped from a maximum level prison and she's coming after us. She's a shape shifter....so I don't know who I can trust, or who I can't. She's fooled me before...." He held up a hand and took a long moment and read the pad before speaking again. "Also, I just received this message and photo thirty minutes ago...so yes....she is coming." Lia handed him the picture and print out of the note. "To say I'm scared is beyond the truth. To say that I'm not leary of your 'skill' as a bodyguard would be an understatement at this point in time. You look like you don't know which end is the business end of a dog let alone know how to kill a Chameloid. So pardon me for being blunt. but unless you can show me how your going to protect me, I feel more alone now than ever before." Jack shot up from the couch and hooked both hands in his belt. "Safe signal? What the hell?" Lia tilted her head as she reminded herself she had a pumpkin spice latte that was awaiting her attention on the end table. Grabbing the mug, her eyes raised towards his direction. A motion she wished she hadn't had done. 'It is a nice butt." She thought before growing audibly at herself. "Disturbia" Lt. JG Ophelia Zamora Faylin McAlister Location: Breen ship, undisclosed location ============================================== "We ready?" "Yes, Ma'am." McAlister cleared her throat. Her eyes scanned the damp room in a critical manner making positive that everything, and everyone was in place. "They will not be able to trace this....correct?" She posed the question again as she pressed a button on the wall. The bright spotlight shown down on the captive who was overcome by all the motion around her. With that done, she cut off the end of an ancient Cuban cigar, lit it, and with satisfaction took a long drag off of it blowing the smoke into the air. "They will not know where the feed is coming from. We have it rerouted several times, and if they are fortunate enough to figure it out, we will be ready for them." Fluffing her long, blond hair, McAlister tugged on her replicated Starfleet uniform. "Let's get this show on the road." ====================== "Incoming message. Urgent." The computer console droned. Glancing around, Zamora took note that her 'bodyguard' was sleeping in Logan's room. What ever it was referring to, she could take it in relative peace. The screen flickered before a grainy image came into view. The moment her brain registered who is was, Ophelia gasped outright her face turning the color of a white Orchid. Waving her hand in a non challant manner, Fay spoke with a rather large demented smile. "Hello Lia. Let me give you a few minutes to escort your son out of the room. What we need to converse about is not for little ears to hear." "Logan.....go take your trains to my bedroom." Her voice was shaking as well as her hands. "But mom, I want to." He protested innocently. "Now!" Lia barked before turning back to Faylin's face. "Ok." Came the whisper. "Sorry...." He gathered up his trains, going into his mother's bedroom with depressed body language. "Tsk tsk Ophelia, children need patience...and it appears you are lacking in that right now." "Fuck you." She responded in jest. "Now now, Ms. Zamora. Would you talk to your mother with that mouth? Oh wait....." McAlister backed up slowly, revealing Sophia strapped into a steel chair under a bright light. Viewing Ophelia's new expression, Fay smiled yet again. "I guess not. What a predicament we have here......daughter....and mother." Fay's eyes narrowed in a challenging manner. Having the upper hand in situations caused her great delight. The inner torment always settled when she felt in control. After this, would be a different situation all together. "How? Victor assured................" "Oh yes, Victor. Brand new Chief of Security on board the famed USS Galaxy...isn't he now? It's a shame, I did wish to play with Corgan a while...but....life gets in the way at times...." She circled Sophia, placing her right hand on her left shoulder. "Victor...failed to double check his information! It is a pity....just ten minutes earlier and he would have been able to save the day!" "Let her be! She's done nothing wrong!" Lia pleaded. "That's where your wrong Zamora. And you want to know why? I'll tell you. She gave birth to you....she created the little whore that tried to set *me* up." McAlister squeezed Sophia's shoulder gently as she extracted the blade that she hid in her waistband. "No!" Ophelia gasped as she viewed the blade inch it's way towards her mother. "No one bests me Lia!" Her tone grew angered, inflamed as Fay continued. "No one! Not you, not Krieghoff, and not Starfleet. How's it feel Lia? Cause, I tell you what, it feels *good* on this end....let me tell you. It's a wonderful feeling, knowing that I hold her life in my hands." She leaned towards Sophia's face, drawing the blade of the knife across her cheek, indenting, but not cutting into the older woman's flesh. "Faylin...please!! Leave her be!" Ophelia's voice wept with desperation. "Ya know...we are not that different you and I." Her posture became lazy as she leaned her arm against the back of the chair. Taking a long drag on the cigar that rested in her free hand, she leaned over and blew the smoke directly in Sophia's face. Lia's mother attempted to keep a straight face, but coughed frantically through the cloth gagged that was in her mouth. "Are you freakin kidding me Fay? We are totally different in all aspects. I don't go around killing people for sport!" "Well...ya got me on that one...however....you send people to prison...that's a death sentence right there. And besides, let me ask you one little question." The knife was pressed firmly into Sophia's cheek. The woman winced as she felt the slight beading of blood on her skin. "Oh my god! Please...don't do this!!!" Ophelia cried out. "Mom?" The small voice erupted. "Get that kid under control Lia...or he's going to see his grandmother....." McAlister calmly made the suggestion as she pressed the knife into the flesh deeper watching the blood flow with fascination. "Stay in my room Logan! NOW!" Ophelia barked out before pressing her hands on the screen. He turned back to the room breaking his mother's heart with the hiss of the door. "Good girl. Now what's the first thought that comes into your head about me Lia? Tell me...what is it?" "Your dead. If I ever get my hands on you, your dead. I'm going to kill you, chop you up into little pieces and feed you to a Cardassian dog....you worthless bitch!" Lia screamed. "Oh very good. See? You want to kill now, don't you? Believe me Ophelia, it's so easy to see the line of justice and revenge blur once those sticky things called emotions come into play.....It's all part and partial...and once you accept that fact....you'll be so much more happier Ophelia. It's freedom...to be able to.............." "Mom? Mom....." Her hands grasped at the image of her tired mother, attempting to find something to hold on to. "So sweet Lia. You care so much for your mother.....touching. So touching in fact...that I'm just going to allow her to speak to you one more time. Arn't I great? Go ahead Sophia...talk to your daughter for the last time....." Fay tugged on the gag, allowing Sophia the ability to speak. "Ophelia..." Her vocal tone scratchy from the lack of fluid she was given over her time in captivity. "Mom....I'm so sorry. God...oh my god...." She slumped into the chair, her legs weak from worry. "Lia....it's okay. I do not fear death.....for it takes me to a place more beautiful and peaceful that this earth." McAlister rolled her eyes while clapping her hands slowly as she circled the chair. "Oh man...it's just too sweet!" "Ma'am...." A voice cut into the transition. "They are getting closer." "Damn.....Well, Lia. I guess your going to miss the big show.....the 'prestige' as it's called among the fellow assassins. The climax, the time where I'll look into Sophia's eyes here, and watch her soul leave her body. I'm sure she'll head to Heaven where she will look down upon you and smile. But, if you are a very good girl, I'll record it for you and send it to you as soon as possible...You have to *promise* to be good though......" "NO! MOM!!! PLEASE!" She sunk to the floor, her tears wetting the console as she screamed in horror. "NO!!!! GOD NO FAY!!!" McAlister's right hand raised, with her index and middle finger dipping several times as that demented, satanic smile emerged one more time. "Bye bye now Lia....." "GOD DAMN IT!!!" Lia screamed outright through her tears as her fists pounded the console until her flesh turned crimson red. "MOM!!!!!!!!" Logan emerged from the bedroom yet again, only to be found cradled tightly by his shaking mother in the matter of seconds. Her warm tears hit his face, and although he did not fully understand what was going on as of late, he did know that someone just hurt his mother very badly. Reaching up with his hands, he patted her on the back the best way a six year old boy could do in the midst of his world under attack. In a whisper, he attempted to comfort his grieving mother. "It's okay Mom.....it's okay......" "Eye of the Beholder" Lt. Commander Th'Khiss K'a Operations Center, USS Galaxy ~By the Fire, she's beautiful.~ At the present time, to tell the truth, she was more than simply Whenever he caught glimps of her, the small hair in the back if his K'aa tried to shrug the feeling that his nerves were being lit on fire Bitter adhrenaline flooded his mouth when the emergency channel =/\=Krieghoff to all Away Team members.=/\= The Ops chief kicked his chair forward and began to monitor the scans =/\=Be advised that there has been an Away Team fatality due to action The Gorn closed his pale grey, all-too-human eyes and sighed, then ~Soon, precious. Not now, but soon~, he thought as as he began ro ~Be patient~ "Leadership and Crap" --- Bunch of SFFC and SFMC blobs (NPCs, respectively) "Seriously," the lithe form of the Betazoid tech mumbled painfully as "You should really gain some mass, Ra," the stumpy Terran Systems tech Ra shot a glare at the man, a mixture of depression, fatigue and "Do you think there's any chance they're going to let me smoke in the "I think they are preparing to 'overtake' the boat with some makeshift From the whole collection of four techs, who had been stranded with All in all, Rheay understood why most of them got picked for this away "Ow!" she yelped violently, dragged away from her inner conversation, "Anyone got a clue as to ?where- we're supposed to be moving, though?" The word was uttered with decisiveness and flare rather alien in Ra's May the leading commence. "Welcome to the Jungle Pretty Young Thing" Faylin McAlister ======================================== "Again!" McAlister barked! The crisp sound of the Hydran barreling towards her, and she did not cringe. Her head tilted slightly down as she braced her face. *POW* Fay wavered, shaking her head back and forth gently as the pain drilled into her. "Again!" McAlister growled out of anger. He came at her repeatedly, relishing the fact that he was given permission to beat the hell out of his boss per her request. "Good!!!" She weezed. "One more......" Her head lowered slightly as he came towards her. The grotesque sound of soft flesh hitting steel resounded throughout the space provided them. "That should leave a mark...." She muttered grabbing the chair for balance as the fresh blood dripped on to the floor. "Along with the others, Ma'am." McAlister glanced at herself in the mirror. Still in her 'Fay' appearance, she studied the welts, forming bruising and caked blood. "I'm not sure.....what do you think?" Being a woman at heart, and given the chance to look at herself in a full length mirror, she checked her bottom. Fay nodded with satisfaction. The Hydran studied her bruising. "Your butt looks great...for a Terran. I think we need to concentrate on your left arm. Break it....compound fracture of course....messy is best." "I knew I liked you for some reason." McAlister smiled, wagging her index finger at her 'punisher'. "Okay then. I need to transform one more time." "You do realize that after you are on the planet, make *sure* that you inject yourself with the last dose. Your right arm has the implant that will disingrate after you press that area on your forearm. The form you take will solidify and you will not be able to transform until a while after you get on board......then.....if they scan randomly, your caught. They will most certainly pick up on your DNA and your screwed." "That I'm not worried about. Catch me, catch me if you can......" Fay laughed before transforming. Wide deep set blue eyes sparked of innocence as she looked at the Hydran. "Nice....." He nodded approvingly. "Think it will get the attention of a group of dumb ass Marines from a certain starship?" She posed the question as she leaned back slightly on her heels, presenting her left arm on the wooden table that stood between them. Fay rocked on the balls of her feet for a few times before planting them firmly on the ground. She nodded, bracing herself with a coolness that was extremely eerie. He raised the mallet, "If you don't, your injuries most certainly will." Her smile hid the pain she felt coming even before the tool collided with her forearm. *Crack* "Holeeeee SHIT!" McAlister's scream of pain cut through the dimly lit room. A little dance commended from the pure in appearance being as she dealt with the pain. Her head turned defiantly, taking in what looked like the bone as it pierced through the pale skin. Taking a few moments to compose herself, Fay glanced over at her dangling arm. "Good job....I mean really, really good job. Can't feel a thing...." With her right hand, she wiped away a few tears of pain that lingered on her face and sniffed. Her head started to really swim at this point, a fact that she rather enjoyed. Better than drugs....alcohol....or raunchy sex. "Transport ready?" Fay paled, weaving a little on her feet. "Yes Ma'am....." "Good. Just make sure you put me a little ways out. That way it's not so obvious that I was *planted* there." She slurred her words a little, the impact of the beating sinking into her body. "The shuttle.....Federation?" "Yes. It will look like an accident......" "Remind me...how did you guys get your hands on a nearly destroyed shuttle?" She slurred yet again, with her eyes rolling back into their sockets. "We are not as dumb as they believe we are....Ma'am?" He paused and watched as she fell to the floor. Leaning over, he poked her with his large hand. "Ma'am?" No response. Sighing, he picked her bruised body up, flinging it over his shoulder and made his way to the large transporter padd they had rigged earlier in the hanger bay. Why someone would go through so much for revenge was beyond his comprehension. What ever her reason, he respected her in ways that no one else did. "Pay No Attention to that Half-Vulcan Behind the Curtain" "No, I agree," Cutter replied. He started to move towards the center of the Chris seemed to relax as he put his phaser away. "Good, now I don't have "Daniels to Galaxy, two to beam up." The transporter tech responded, saying to Chris looked around the room one more time, looking at nothing in particular. "Hang tight, 8-ball, we'll be back to get you." "Debugging" Computer Core Operations, NX-19 The hatch into the core room opened as the Adrian, Daniel, and finally Aina slowly crawled into the cramped ODN control system. Still on the lookout from snakes, Aina pointed out a short round corridor - "That should get us to the core. Hopefully there will be some diagnostic stations working to access the data." The Lieutenant Commander nodded, crawling out and into the corridor, thanking every deity across the Alpha Quadrant that he wasn't claustrophobic - yet. Taking a few steps, he stopped and smelled the air; it was musty, perhaps a bit mustier than it should have been. He looked back to the exit way with a frown, and then scanned the corridor from his location and finally the floor, which was covered in fair coating of detritus. And then he felt the urge; time seemed to slow as everything in the universe told him not to look up, just to keep on going, and forget the fact that he could hear noises other than them. Unfortunately, not being totally connected with the universe at that moment, they sent a message to his answering machine as his head lifted upwards, something unintelligible pouring from his lips and then ducking as what appeared to be a swarm of bat-like creatures descended. Their piercing screeching was enough to drown out a Klingon Keg Party, "Right…" He said, straightening up, and considering how many centuries he just aged at that moment. "The core…" Aina had ducked as the screeching and the fluttering of wings got her attention from the exploration of a broken panel. She looked up and watched as the creatures fluttered out, farther into a darkened corridor. Daniel looked up at the cracked plasma display panel. "Uh, maybe it's, uh... um, just, um... maybe there's just, uh, um, damage to the, uh... the, um, monitor. If you just, uh, you know, just, just, uh, plugged in a, uh... a new one--" "That's basically what we'll have to do," returned Aina. "The panels are too badly damaged, but I can get a signal from the old low freq em system used on these things. Might be able to make..." Aina started tapping on her tricorder, "a...connection...come on you...what do you mean access is denied...you piece of sh...what the..." Aina looked at the tricorder and looked at a barely discernable hatch at the bottem of a panel. Kneeling down, using the tip of a piece of broken metal, she pried off the panel and peered inside. After a few second s of study, she rested back on her haunches and gave the panel a hit with the flat of her palm. Dust and some caked on dirt, fell to the ground as Aina turned her attention back to her tricorder. "Now, who's the boss?" Aina said with a smile on her face as she watched scrolling code, "Right...now, we can get somewhere. I've set up my tricorder as a router/controller, if you connect to it - I can give you access to any of the core. You'll be able give orders through your comms and any video data will appear on a padd." "Um, can, uh, can you, um, access their, uh, their, um... uh, their sensor logs?" Daniel stuttered. Aina smiled, "I can give you access to what the ship's chef made for breakfast for the captain - and whether it was real cream or mock cream on the pancakes. As long as there is a connection and power we can talk to any system on the ship." The El-Aurian was half-listening as he scanned the area visually, looking for any more signs of possible disturbances. Technical work such as this wasn't his forte, and besides, after all, too many cooks were bound to spoil the… what did humans call it… stew? Taking out his tricorder, he began a more detailed scan; the winged 'rodents' had already left, and from what he could find, there was nothing else indicating other life forms, aside from insects. Putting away the tricorder, he slowly looked up, an overriding sense of need, followed by relief washing over him as there was nothing else… except maybe dirt. Turning his attentions back to the motley duo, Adrian walked back over and observed what was going on. "Uh," Daniel drawled, while poking vexedly at the oversized PADD he held, "I, uh, I'm getting, um, a, uh, connection error 505, um, when I, uh... when I, uh, try to, um, access the, um, uh, EM recorders." Aina crawled on her hands and knees, her head and upper torso were deep inside a maintenance hatch as she wriggled in looking around the core. "Anything yet," she called out after a few minutes. "Uh..." he hummed for a long time, "um, no." From inside the hatch, Aina muttered something like okay and twisted her body around. Suddenly, the error box disappeared. "Oh! Um, okay, it's, um, it's connecting, now," Daniel said as he looked down at Aina as she wriggled her way out of the confined space, "What, um... uh, what was the, uh... uh, what was wrong?" Aina shook her head after wriggling out from the core hatch, "I'm amazed anything is still working - but then, it's all solid-state tech. But this 'moth' was a problem, it was across the Aiken Two-Seventy Relay. A real 'debugging.'" Aina flicked the dead multi-winged thing, that looked like a moth with eight legs off her hand. "That should be it." Daniel nodded and unplugged the small silver box that was wired to the PADD, a portable hard drive. "Yeah, I, uh... I, uh... um, me too. I, uh, I've copied all their, um, their sensor logs from, uh... you know, from just before, uh, they stopped working." "Cool," returned Aina nodding. "I'll, uh, have to, uh... I have to, uh, to, to take them, um, back to the, uh, the Galaxy. Uh, I, uh, I'll need to, um, you know, cross, uh, cross, um... look up all the, uh, the old, um, sensor read out protocols, you know, before I'll, uh, be able to, uh, um... read them," Daniel explained. Adrian was amount to comment when an emergency call came out over the comms, =/\=Krieghoff to all Away Team members.=/\= =/\=Be advised that there has been an Away Team fatality due to action by the local predator life-form. Said fatality occurred from well-executed ambush in open terrain when the individual was separated from the rest of their team by no more than five meters. No general recall is announced at this time, but all Away Teams are instructed to tighten their perimeters and exercise extreme caution. If surrounded, or under attack, then beam out at the first opportunity. Krieghoff out.=/\= All three officers looked at each other, there had been no evidence of any animals of predatory nature here in the core... Tapping his badge and giving the order to be beamed up, Daniel's form slowly disappeared in a flash of blue. Adrian nodded to Aina, "I'd think it best that we stay in sight of each other." Aina nodded, as the two officers returned to the studying of the computer logs. "CLICK" click === Welcome back to Big Brother XXXXIV ====== click ===Stay tuned for scenes from next weeks program.... ===== click === Today on Oprah...I'm carrying a Hydran Love child. ====
click After the umpteenth 'click' Allison rolled her glitter speckled eyes and glared. "Mary, drop to sublight with the channel surfing girlfriend. Stop to see whats on before switching to something new." "Sorry luv, but as you told me last night when you wanted to watch 'Real World: Breen'....she who holds the clicker, controls the world." After a hard days work, the two roomates were curled up on their respective sides of their tiny shared cabin ready for a lazy evening watching the boob tube. Mary the Horta was atop her polished granite perch, clutching the channel changer in a molten pseudopod and sipping on an adult beverage. Across the way, young Allison von Ernst lazily strummed her purple guitar and wiggled her toes in her pink fuzzy slippers. "Whatever, girl.....All Im saying is pick something already....go back to that Hydran love child thing. That sounded weird-a-licious." click ===....and if you put your hand right here you can feel them squirming their tentacles around in my belly....==== click Rolling her eyes and popping her gum, Alli strummed a different chord. The sound muted and dull without the amplifier...she was just goofing off really anyways. Pausing she grabbed a handfull of Jiffy-Pop from a bowl balanced on her nightstand and crunched happily. It took real skill to chew gum and eat popcorn at the same time without making a real mess, but she was an expert. Mom may be the cats pajamas at blowing starships out of the sky.....but Alli knew her bubble gum.
For herself, Mary clicked the controller again and quietly sipped on her after-dinner drink; a beaker of chilled mercury with little tungsten sprinkles on top. Just the thing after a hard day at the office. click === Here we see the ravenous Bugblatter beast in its natural jungle environment. We see it stalking its favortite prey in the form of young Ensign Redshirt. The ensign stiffens and sniffs the air sensing danger. The Redshirts defensive adaptations are many however hs colorful plumage does not camoflage him in the arboreal background. The predator considers his prey, and With a swift lunge, the beast leaps through the air....====
click
====Yowza yowza yowza!! come on down to Crazy Streely's Military surplus emporium. Thats right we have Tricorders...phaser pistols, photon tubes...and lots of those little circuit thinga-ma-jigs that seem to go in everything! That's Crazy Streely's for the highest quality starfleet surplus. Stuff so good you'll wonder where he got it all....==== click Crunch crunch....Alli munched quietly and narrowed her eyes. "That guy looks familiar somehow.....hmmmmmmm."
"All in your imagination luv." Mary waved a pseudopod dismissivly. "Too much conspiracy theory nonsesnse in your genes."
click
==== He's dead Jim...====
"Blah....reruns." "No wait thats a good one...." click ==== ....Leave you as you left her....buried alive at the center of a dead moon...buried alive!....KHAN! KHAN!!! KHAN!!!! ===== "What channel is this anyways? Sci Fi?" "No dearie...this is the history Channel....shame on you for not knowing your founding fathers." Alli struck a discordant note on her guitar with a sharp TWANG!! click ====....new from the fashion capital of the Federation. Paris, France come a bold new statement in women's clothing. Its the Bare essentials Collection from designer Jean-Claude Fabrique'. Why the Term 'Bare Essentials sir? "Their naked!" Alli snorted. "That aint fashion!" "Naked?" The rock-alien leaned forward to study the tube. "Sorry luv, I never can tell with you humans....naked...clothes.....so confusing."
==== Thats Right General Karg!!! You really didnt get promoted to the Klingon High Command....you just got PUNK'D on Galactic TV........RAAAAAAARG!!!!!!!! Ouch stop...dont kill me....CRASH!!!!======
"Ouch...that totally had to hurt." Alli winced. "Yes indeedy." Mary Agreed. "Like the old klingon Proverb says....Fool me once...Shame on you.....fool me twice....prepare for Doom!!"
click
===== next....on a very special Blossum....===== click ==== .....I'll take wacky starship crews for $1000 Alex...==== click ==== .....Order now for you very own HORATAS GONE WILD SPring BREAK video!!! ....===== On Screen the images of jiggling rocks prancing around with certain pseudo pods blurred. "Holy Zark! Mary." Allison sputtered, leaping from her bed. "Thats....thats....YOU!!!!" The Horta merely shrugged, "We're all young once dearie. I was a naive little rock working my way through school....it was easy money." Allison knelt before the TV in open mouthed shock. One part of her brain was struggling to connect the blurred out portions with the fact that the Horta went around naked anyways. She asked Mary about this. "You worry about your dangly bits dearie...let me worry about mine." "Hel-lo! First of all rock-head, My bits arent dangly....I prefer the term perky." "Dangly...perky...whatever luv." Mary flipped through a few more channels. "Alien anatomy isnt my strong suite." click
====.....My social life is more active now that I have my adult undergarment.....==== "Ewwww...." Allison retreated back to her bed. "Thats the sort of thing you just dont need to advertise." "How so?" "Trust me Mary....if you need a diaper....you'll go out and find one somehow.....you dont need TV to encourage you."
"I never thought of it that way dearie...true true." click
=== Mork from Ork...Nanoo Nanoo.... ==== "Oh I met him once." Alli observed. "Who....The actor?" "No silly...Mork from Ork....Uncle Lysander took me once. Zarky place Ork.....A bit touristy though." "Ork...got it."
click
===== Next on History Channel....The Manchurian Cantidate...The 2008 Presidential election and how the winner destroyed the world....Right after these messages from Masengil.......Do you ever have that not so fresh feeling? ===== click
"Ah yeah...we studied that guy in school last year....can you beleive the idiots back then?" "Ancient history luv....those were the Dark Ages you realize."
"Still....hel-lo the warning signs were everywhere right?" "Hush dear and eat your popcorn." click "Galaxy Bound" On board the USS Zeus, on his way to his assignment on the Sighing deeply, he remembered his last day on Ferenginar.... Hok was staring at the digital clock on the wall. The white Hok was almost fully of age, when Zek created the reforms Moogie... Hok sighed and looked at his moogie's face. Her eyes were Hok gently ran his fingers across the back of one of her hands. "I wanted to tell you, Moogie, that I'll be leaving "I'm going to try to get a fresh start so I can care for you Glosh had wanted to enter into a marriage contract with Hok grew silent, not knowing what else to say. Lovingly ***Earth, Months Later*** Hok sat in the chair, rocking nervously. He stared at the Hok turned his attention back to the Starfleet Admissions Turning off the computer console on his desk, Travis looked Hok swallowed. "Well, Mr. Hok, your file isn't something I normally see. Hok didn't say anything. He didn't know what to say. What Travis studied Hok for a moment before continuing. "Your test scores are high enough for you to be accepted." Hok felt hope inside, but he held his grim expression. "But there are just some things in your background, that Hok's shoulders slumped. Travis drummed his fingers on his desk. Leaning back in his "Are you willing to work hard and accept the ideals and "Yes, sir. I am," said Hok. "Because your citizenship papers have arrived. You've been Hok began to feel hope. "All right, Mr. Hok, you're in. It's against my better Hok smiled. ***4 1/2 Years Later*** The Zeus was less than ten minutes away from the Galaxy. The Great Material Continuum could certainly be "The Quickening"
Bringing Back the one and only: Dr. Jebediah Quick
Where the heck is Tomball, Texas?" "Sorry?" "Tomball...never heard of it." "Oh that.....uh...little town on the Northside of Houston. Rustic...big trees. You'll like it." Lt Dan Mathers scowled at his control panel and tried to ignore the rumbling in his stomach. As a member of the Diplomatic Courier team, Mathers was used to the occasional unannounced assignment which is why he kept his shuttle on a 15 minute hot pad at all times. Still...to be handed a Top Secret PADD halfway through the Chow line on Surf and Turf night was a little above and beyond the call of duty. "Been looking forward to this all week." he grumbled to himself, carefully guiding the shuttle through the crowded atmospheric traffic. "They had fresh tartar sauce and everything." At his side, Lt Commander Javanshir smiled. "Better not let the Admiral hear you talking like that...people from him planet got a racial aversion to any sort of fish platter." Mathers frowned. He didn't care if Admiral Hooosk looked like a 6 foot walking Halibut. He could go and take a flying leap back into the watery ocean that spawned his scaly ass...Mathers wanted his Tartar sauce. "Coming up on Houston traffic control." Javanshir noted, subtle altering his course and activating the transponder beacon. Suborbital flights were always a little bit crowded, especially with rush hour traffic, but their Starfleet registration gave them a little leeway on airspace restrictions. "So who is this guy anyways," Mathers asked again, "…and why does he deserve a 'stretch' at this hour?" The 'Stretch' referred to the plush limousine type diplomatic shuttle the pair was flying. Faux leather seats, ice chest, and tri-D reception right in the back. 'This hour' of course referred to the aforementioned Surf and Turf night that the hungry lieutenant just would not let go of. Javanshir...a vegetarian to whom the menu made no difference anyways...read off the small PADD. "Says here a Doctor Jebediah Quick...Specialist in Biomechanical reproduction, Starship propulsive Psychology and Interior Design. needed for some sort of special Top Secret Project." " Interior Design? Propulsive Psychology?" Mathers frown deepened. "What does he psychoanalyze the warp Core or something?" An answer would have to wait as Traffic control crackled to life, and vectored the 'stretch' into a gentle landing in the midst of a North Houston neighborhood. Outside of the City megaplex itself, the large 3 acre lots were beautiful homesteads surrounded by tall trees, lush fields and barking dogs. "Quaint." Javanshir observed, squinting his eyes against the late afternoon sun as the hatch hissed open. "Nice neighborhood it looks like." "Hot." Mathers countered tugging at his collar, "Damn hot...how do people live in this humidity?" The arrival of a shiny Starfleet shuttle in the middle of the road had attracted the attention of the local neighborhood children. Huddling around on bicycles and makeshift skateboards they poked each other in the ribs gushing at 'how cool' this was, and how 'all the kids at school wont believe this.' "Hey mister....what kind of shuttle izzat?" called one skinned-knee kid licking an ice cream cone. "This Shuttle...uh....its a Type 14 Diplomatic kid." Mathers answered. "This is Green Arbor Street right?" "Yah....how fast does it go?" the kid continued with a sloppy lick. "Very Fast....." Mathers stomach was rumbling again looking at the ice cream. "Say...you kids know where we could find a Doctor Quick? he's supposed to live on this street." "That aint a fast shuttle." another kid put in with a scoff. "Thats one of 'dem fancy diplomatic shuttles...its for girls." The two officers winced a bit....the elimination of sexism aside, it was a kinda 'girlie' shuttle. "Yeah...ha ha...very funny...now about Dr. Quick?" "He dont wanna see you." said yet a third child. A little 5 year old sprite in a dirty sun dress, and clutching a headless Barbie. "He dont...er he doesnt?" Javanshir asked. "Why's that princess." "Not a princess!" the girl retorted. "Im a vet-n-arian!" "A vetenearian?" the Lieutenant Commander smiled. Funny how little girls either wanted to be fairy princess's or Vets. "Well how about you just point out the house where the Doctor lives?" As a group the neighborhood children pointed off to a rather run down looking abode with a messy lawn badly in need of a mowing. Various bits and pieces of old vehicles dotted the landscape ranging from old motorcycles, to what appeared to be a disassembled Romulan shuttlecraft up on blocks. "What's that....an old Delorean?" Mathers pointed out a wreck half hidden under a tarp as they walked up the walkway. "Yeah....looks like he modified it to run on fusion power...." A quick ring of the doorbell, and the two Starfleet officers were surprised to have the door answered by a man with no head. Literally. Other than the fact that it had no head, the body was quite ordinary in every other sense. A bit on the skinny side , and quite tall.....that is if you allowed an extra foot or two for the missing noggin. It was clad in raggedy old shorts, flip-flops, and a tie-dyed t-shirt that apparently had a hole for a neck...if one had been present. "Yes?" inquired the headless body. "Are you boys selling Starfleet cookies already this year? Very well I'll take some thin mints and a couple boxes of Peanut Clusters." Being a highy trained officer who was trained to'boldly-go' Lt Mathers recovered first. "Dr. Quick?" he inquired, "Dr. Jebediah Quick?" "Yo." came the reply, and the headless body quickly shook hands with all present. An eerie experience. "What can I do you for dudes?" "Uhhhh....what happened to your head Doc?" the question had to be asked. "doh!" came the reply, and the body proceeded to slap its forehead....if it had been present. "I totally forgot I had it on." Reaching up the hands made as if to lift something off, and presently a wild-haired human head appeared exactly where it was supposed to be....the hands now cradling an odd assortment of wires and springs attached to what looked to be a large salad-bowl. "My invisible Helmet." Explained Dr. Quick. "Totally still working out the kinks and bugs in it.....only manages to hide what its actually sitting on." "Oh." Mathers was terribly confused. "I tried sitting in it once.....totally disconcerting dude....couldn't find anything to take a whizz with right? There was an awkward silence for several moments before Quick added, "Y'all want to come inside and grab a beer?" "Uh....sure...uh...no sir." Javanshir waffled, "We're here by order of Starfleet Command to recruit you for a Top Secret Project. We're instructed to brief you and convey you to a waiting ship in orbit." "Suit yourself, let me grab a brew ski first though." Quick retreated back into the house....a cluttered dungeon of books....disassembled computer parts, and little animal cages. Against one wall was a photo of Jimi Hendrix at WoodStock, and against the other was a chart of the periodic table of elements. Across the bottom of the chart somebody had scrawled....'you'd think so...but you'd be wrong.' Retrieving a Schlitz Beer from a filthy refrigerator, Quick cracked it open and considered the pair with a odd gaze. "So...top secret project and all that....righteous. Starfleet finally got my memo about the hamsters and baby oil thing right?" "Uh....no sir...its about something else." "Oh?" Quick looked crestfallen, "Uh...better forget what I just told you then. What's this all about then?" Javanshir produced a PADD. "Hydran bioweapons project....cloning of humans and impregnating them with gene-spliced fetuses." Quick was scanning the details, making gagging faces, "Oh dude....that just aint right. We get a paternity test on this chick?" "A what?" "Paternity test dude....shows who the father is." "The father was a test tube Doctor. She was rescued from a Hydran Bioweapons lab." Quick shook his head. "Ah yes....the old test tube baby to take over the Federation trick." He seemed lost in thought for several moments. Taking another deep swig of his Schlitz, Quick nodded. "Very well....I'll take the case. However what I'm gonna need from you guys is a case of Microwave burritos and two dozen copies of The OMEN and Rosemary's Baby on video cassette." The two officers looked at each other. "Huh? Rosemary's Baby?" "Think man." Quick tapped his wild haired noggin. "Its classic infiltration tactics.....true one is merely a tripedal life form from planet Hydrax , and the other is the living spawn of the Prince of Darkness, but the methodology is the same."
"Sure Doc....whatever you say....can we go now?" "Totally...just let me grab my invisible helmet and throw a bunny rabbit into the snake pit, and I'm good to go." He flailed around a bit searching for his helmet which seemed to have actualy turned invisible on him. "Aw dang-it…forget it…Lets go meet this Branwen London and her satanic brood." "Ummmm she's only pregnant with Hydrans Doc....not the Antichrist." Mathers corrected. Again Quick looked hurt, "Oh...really. I rather liked the other way round. Mind if I take a crucifix along just in case? " "The Truth is..." Lt. JG T'Pei "If there were a reason, a Vulcan is quite capable of killing-logically and efficiently." –Spock, Journey to Babel 1907 hours It wasn't surprising, really. Breathe in, breathe out. Six. Lieutenant Hunter had been late for the first four sessions, and it seemed she would be even later this time. Breathe in... Logically speaking, of course, T'Pei was indifferent to her lateness...breathe out. Seven. She could continue her private meditation until the Lieutenant arrived, and have the session then. Breathe in... Moreover, T'Pei was forced to conclude that the more she was able to meditate before having to deal with the woman, the less likely she was to say or do something...unfortunate...such as stunning her and packing her away in a box on a shuttle bound for Vulcan...breathe out. Seven. Wait, eight? She started over at one. It was now 1912. And meditation, for the first time, was not focusing her thoughts. It was not helping at all, in fact. As the minutes ticked by, the imaginary shuttle's destination had been upgraded to Hydran territory. The doors slid open. Clearly, she was not taking this seriously. If you kept your eyes below her waist, the half-Vulcan looked like she had taken T'Pei's words about 'appropriate' apparel to heart, wearing practical black shoes and pants that were easy to meditate in. All of your illusions were shattered the moment your eyes strayed up, however, when they were assaulted by a pink glitter tee shirt—clearly homemade—which proclaimed "Kiss the Vulcan Reject" in large letters over an equally large bosom that was straining the extra small shirt beyond any reasonable capacity. If she was endeavoring to communicate her distaste with the entire situation, she had succeeded. It didn't take Vulcan hearing to pick up on that message, loud and clear. "Lieutenant Hunter," T'Pei began, with typical Vulcan calm. "It is eighteen minutes past the hour. In the future, please do not be so late for our sessions." Needless to say, the Lieutenant's response lacked any semblance of Vulcan calm. "I'm sorry. I never meant for any real work to get in the way of these little playdates, T'Pei." T'Pei hardly thought she deserved that level of ire. She knew the Lieutenant's duty schedule, and her shift had ended just over three hours ago. Not breaking eye contact, T'Pei clasped her hands behind her back. "I hardly view these sessions as 'play' Lieutenant, and I suggest that you do not either. Now, let us begin—" "Oka-ay!" the Lieutenant barked. "But it is ridiculously hot in this room. Like, I woke up in Hell hot." She wiped her forehead dramatically and thrust her hand towards T'Pei, presumably to display sweat, although the Vulcan certainly did not see any. T'Pei paused to consider the puzzling complaint. Physiologically speaking, the Lieutenant, as a half-Vulcan, shared many of the genetic traits which should have made the current temperature of the room tolerable, if not even preferable to those on the rest of the ship. Having lived among humans for her entire life however, it appeared she had become acclimated to the lower temperatures they preferred. With a raise of her eyebrow, T'Pei filed the thought away for future consideration, musing that it would be...impolitic to turn this example, however appropriate, into a lesson on how the mind can exert influence over the body. "I apologize, Lieutenant," she said quite reasonably. "The temperature controls are set to match the ambient temperature on Vulcan; which, along with a higher gravity, can be beneficial for meditation. I had taken only your physiology, and not your upbringing, into account." T'Pei started across her quarters to the environmental controls. "I will lower the temperature to—" The other woman had clearly stopped listening the moment T'Pei opened her mouth. "—Whatever. I can't work like this." Hearing rustling, T'Pei turned back to find that the scenery had grossly changed. Now, her field of vision was dominated by a pair of breasts, trying to escape from a sports bra that clearly favored form over function. The Vulcan tried to decide if she should still turn the temperature down, if only to stop this woman from taking off any more clothing. The Lieutenant was speaking. T'Pei wrenched herself back into focus. "Your...rack?" The question slipped out just before T'Pei registered the other woman's smugly significant look down at her chest. Oh. "I was not—" T'Pei stopped herself. 'Debating this would be inefficient and illogical. Which is precisely Lieutenant Hunter's goal.' "Let us move on. Since we last met, how has your progress been in isolating your thoughts during meditation? Have you been able to ascertain what it is that you focus on?" Thwarted in her attempt to elicit a suitable reaction, the other woman rolled her eyes dramatically and switched tactics. "Boys," she chirped, ticking her fingers off one by one. With each item, she tilted her head in one direction and thrust her hip in the other, turning the list into a somewhat spastic dance maneuver. The overall effect reminded T'Pei of the flighty blonde crewman in the armory. "Chocolate. Boys. Science. Boys . . .hot chicks. Eptgac. And, yeah, boys. Would you like details?" Before these sessions had irrevocably altered her world view, T'Pei would have thought 'Most unusual', and pondered if these were the subjects that concerned most humans. No doubt, though, the list bore no resemblance to the Lieutenant's actual thoughts. It was intriguing that this woman had once been Chief of Sciences. She concluded with a particular tawdry thought, shooting T'Pei a lascivious smirk and waggling her eyebrows. 'No,' T'Pei mentally amended. 'What is intriguing is that this woman was allowed into Starfleet at all.' "I believe we should begin a new meditation today. Previously, we have focused on identifying those things which distract your thoughts throughout the day. I believe we have...successfully identified a wide range of topics which fit this description." That was certainly a diplomatic way of putting it. T'Pei bent and lit the single candle sitting in between two meditation mats. "Sit in a comfortable position. This meditation trains you to both become in tune with yourself physically, but also to move past distractions, focusing on your thoughts in an orderly manner. You do not need to actively redirect your natural flow of thoughts off of...boys and chocolate. Instead, focus your mind upon your katra. By stepping outside of conscious thought, you will develop the ability to identify those deeper thoughts which underlie consciousness." Apparently anything above monosyllabic was beyond her student's attention span. Lieutenant Hunter's eyes had actually glazed over, focused somewhere in the vicinity of T'Pei's left knee. "Lieutenant Hunter," T'Pei said, trying to keep the frustration out of her voice. There—actual eye contact. Sacrificing explanation for brevity, she seized the opportunity to get her student to actually listen. "Breath in and out at your normal pace. One breath in and out constitutes one cycle. Continue until you reach ten breathing cycles." "Great!" The falsely perky armory crewman was back again. "I get to learn how to count. Do I get to use my fingers?" "If you lose your place," T'Pei continued austerely, "start over at one. Once you have finished ten breathing cycles, start over." The Lieutenant grunted, but plopped down into a cross-legged slouch on one of the mats. T'Pei knelt on the other mat, as the Lieutenant gave an exaggerated sigh, expelling the air from her lungs, in preparation for the exercise. It was only when she let out another sigh, even more plaintive than the first, that T'Pei realized this was the Lieutenant's attempt at the meditation. If, that is, a grand total of two 'sighing cycles' could be called an attempt. "All right. I'm focusing on my consciousness, and all my consciousness is saying is that it's hot and I'm bored." "Lieutenant." "Yes?" "Be quiet and count." This time, what the Lieutenant did actually resembled normal breathing. And her patience lasted all the way to five repetitions before she muttered "This is ridiculous. What is this really supposed to accomplish?" T'Pei took a moment and conducted her own brief breathing exercise. How was it possible to teach someone who was incapable of listening, and when she did listen, deliberately ignored what you said? The Lieutenant was getting warmed up into a full-fledged rant. "Maybe I shouldn't be here at all, if this is your idea of making progress. I could get the same amount of insightful knowledge working in the little kid's classroom." Being around this woman was like being stuck in the ice cream parlor of attitude problems—so many flavors to choose from, you could have a new one every day and the only progress you would ever make would be getting brain freeze. T'Pei could feel a seed of anger threatening to take root in her throat and strangle her. Which was a completely illogical reaction; T'Less had taught her more control than this, surely? It was just...fifteen years among humans had not rattled her to the extent that five hours with this woman had. And the smirk on her face told T'Pei that she knew it. "I mean, come on. I know this isn't exactly a plum assignment for you, right, having to train that wacky human in the ways of the Vulcan Master, so, let me guess? You decided to come up with the most bullshit meditations possible, not to teach me but just to drive me even more crazy? Maybe I'll go so batshit nuts that I'll land up in a coma again and I'll be out of your hair for good. How's that sound, T'Pei--does that sound good to you?" Enough was enough. T'Pei's eyes flashed with barely controlled anger. In just two minutes, the Lieutenant had made a mockery of her efforts to help her, and the customs and history of her people—their people—the very customs that had pulled the Vulcans back from the brink of self-annihilation. Was she really so desperate and stubborn that she would let herself mentally implode just to prove a point? 'She might be.' T'Pei closed her eyes, the anger suddenly gone. If she truly wanted to martyr herself to her emotions, then nothing, not T'Pei, not the captain, not all of Vulcan, could stand in her way. Fine. T'Pei would step aside, after she tried one last time to make the other woman stop and think. Lieutenant Hunter could mock Vulcan training until the end of the Triad war, but the fact remained that nobody, nobody in the universe had enough attitude to outstare a well-trained Vulcan. So she stared. It took exactly seven sentences before her student noticed that she hadn't responded at all. Something was afoot. "The silent treatment, huh?" she said. "Gee, we really are reliving grade school." T'Pei stayed silent, watching as rising anger spread a splotchy red blush across the half-Vulcan's face. This was a risk, and she recognized that there was a good chance that the other woman might get up and leave permanently. Or maybe spit in her face. She kept staring. She could do nothing for someone so bound and determined to resist half of herself. If the Lieutenant decided to try, then they could keep working. If not...she would inform the captain that the lessons had no logical potential for success. The woman across from her fidgeted slightly, but did not back down. She wore a petulant mask, but her face flickered with the barest hints of other emotions. T'Pei wondered what she was thinking about. Presumably not boys. The entire battle of wills took 42.8 seconds. Then even the mask fell off and the flickers of emotions became clear. She looked like she was going to cry. "Fine," the other woman yelled suddenly, shooting to her feet. "I lose, all right? You win; you're the top dog around here. I just--I'm not going to waste anymore of your time, okay? I'm not going to waste either of our time!" She was pacing, waving the tee-shirt like a sad, glittery flag, until she dropped even that and it fell to the floor next to T'Pei. The disdain, the anger, and the smugness—gone. Which left a crumpled, broken, scared woman. T'Pei realized she was meeting T'Pol Hunter for the first time. "You clearly can't help me—clearly, you don't want to help me—and I can't take anymore of your bullshit. I've got enough on my plate as is. So, why don't you meditate on your numbers—maybe, if you're really advanced, you'll make all the way to twelve!—and leave me the hell alone. I do not need this crap." With that, she rushed towards the door, snatching her shirt as she passed. T'Pei heard the whisper of the door closing, and it felt like thunder. Except it couldn't be. The hurricane had just fled. 'Is that not what you wanted?' a little voice asked her. T'Less' voice. 'An end, no matter the result?' T'Pei shook her head. "It was her choice, Osavensu. I cannot help her now." 'You were so eager to let her go, T'Pei-kam.' T'Pei stared into the candle. Another contest she would win—it would melt, and then it would just be her, sitting in the dark, talking to a woman who had been dead for eight years. She breathed in, and then out, letting her shoulders slump. One. " . . . Out There" 8-ball had given the matter some due consideration. "Boys," she said honestly, holding out a hand and ticking off her fingers one by one. "Chocolate. Boys. Science. Boys . . .hot chicks. Eptgac. And, yeah, boys." It didn't exactly paint her as the deepest and most contemplative member of the Galaxy (that honor probably went to Mr. Broody McBrooderson himself, Victor Krieghoff) but it was a sincere assesssment of her thoughts, so she didn't know why T'Pei had to get all pissy about it. 8-ball offered details--partially out of sincerity (who knew--maybe the Vulcan master had to know every sexual fantasy in order to properly "heal" her) but mostly because she was irritated and tired of the way this woman was looking at her. ~Sunday in the Wood with Ulrich~
PO2 Ulrich Ossuary Ensign Relsta Lt. JG Artim Shivar
This was not shaping up to be Petty Officer Second Class Ulrich Ossuary's favorite away mission of all time. Shannon had told him to bring sunscreen, three times as she would no doubt remind them when he got back to the ship. But then she'd given him that wicked little lopsided smirk, and said we don't want to burn that sexy bald head of yours, do we Ully? and well, sunscreen had frankly slipped his mind. The memory cheered Ulrich up considerably, as did the sight of the river. He hooked his machete onto the belt of his fatigues and headed back into the thick bushes to retrieve the scientists he had been assigned to accompany. The Denobulan ensign, Relsta, stumbled by him first, immediately pulling out her scanner and making a beeline for the river. Artim followed close behind and he was in an equally grumpy mood. Apparently those who were walking ahead of him seemed to neglect the fact that some of the branches they were casually brushing aside were smacking him square in the face. One of the great disadvantages of the rest of the team having two feet on you. A moment after yet another branch that was allowed to fly back sent the diminutive lieutenant flying backward landing in pile of mud he couldn't help but speak up. "Um, Petty Officer, you know if career advancement is your long term goal it's generally not a good idea to let your mission commander get beaten up by branches! Makes him quite grumpy and gives him the urge to write bad reports." Artim wasn't shouting, but he really didn't need to. The sting was quite present in his voice without raising it. Ulrich gingerly touched his lobster-red forehead, now complemented with a budding headache between his eyes. 'Glorified babysitting...that's what this is. What's next, changing Short and Grumpy's diaper?' The petty officer immediately regretted the thought as he glanced back at the other member of the away team 'On the bright side, at least I didn't get hit with monkey shit', he ruefully conceded, watching as Relsta apparently concluded the river was safe to enter and plunged in, furiously scrubbing at her sleeves. Artim had already started scrambling over the broken, slippery-with-moss rocks towards the river. Ulrich hesitated, giving one last look at the thick foliage. He wasn't thrilled with the prospect of spending the hottest part of the day by a river in the middle of an all encompassing blind spot; it didn't take an exobiology degree to know that even on unknown planets, the large toothy jungle critters liked the local watering hole as much as the small cuddly ones. 'Oh well', he mused. 'No use crying over milk that may or may not be spilled sometime in the future.' The now somewhat cleaner Relsta was gesturing animatedly at a layer of moss that was surely far more exciting than its appearance—which was, as far as Ulrich could tell, decidedly mossish—suggested. Beyond her, he had a clear line of sight downstream for at least 200 meters, and could see the river curve back on itself in a tight zig zag before continuing on south east. Upstream was far less clear. The river curled around a cluster of trees and Ulrich could see nothing beyond roughly 25 meters. That was certainly undesirable. Machete once again in hand, he sidestepped a cluster of reeds and cleared his throat loudly at his companions, who had moved on to scanning...a pile of rocks in a puddle. Of course—how fascinating. "I'm going to go check out the area upstream just beyond the turn. I'll stay within comm range--don't leave this area, and stay aware of your surroundings!" The beeping of his commbadge interrupted his scrutiny of the bridge's foundation, and he tapped it absentmindedly. Short and Grumpy, or Tall and Toothy? he wondered. Whichever it was, it was perfect timing—he needed to get them up here to see this bridge. "Krieghoff to all Away Team members..." Away team fatality...local predator...well executed ambush...separated by no more than five meters... He'd left them alone. Blindly surrounded by jungle. Ulrich ran. 6423 |