Mission 6.3 - sectorg.org

USS Caledonia
And
StarBase BoB
Season 6
Episode 3
Too Good to Be True
The Omega Scandal
"Too Good to be True"
=/\= CO's Office - Starbase BoB =/\=
When she looked back to the day it all began, what was most remarkable
was how very *normal* the morning had been.
Mulder had risen early as usual, at the insistence of the computer, and
had showered, dressed and taken her normal route to the office through
the main Promenade.
Stopping at Pigs she had collected a cup of Latte as she did most
mornings, and sprinted up the metal staircase to the upper walkway where
her office was situated.
As per normal practice she had switched on her commconsole and whilst the
incoming messages assembled themselves had taken her Latte to drink
standing in her usual spot by the main viewport, looking down on the
station and out at the stars.
She sipped slowly, savouring the view of her territory, as she always
did.
...The slow neat movements of vessels as they manoeuvred in and out of
docking ports. The heavy grey metal of the station's rings. The inky
blackness of space with the tiny lights from the distant stars. The
swirling high altitude clouds and delicate greens and blues of the planet
below...
She sipped her drink.
The planet below.
She paused mid-sip.
The planet...
"WE DON'T *HAVE* A FEKKING PLANET DOWN BELOW!"
But they did, apparently.
She rubbed the window with her hand, and rubbed her eyes. It was still
there. "WHO THE HELL PARKED A BLOODY PLANET UNDERNEATH MY STARBASE??!!"
There was no answer, and it clearly wasn't a mirage. Eyes wide open, she
could only stand and stare as the earth-like planet span on a lazy axis
below. "Where the fek did that *come* from?" she whispered in disbelief.
"It wasn't there last night..."
Wondering if it was all some bizarre hoax she walked out of her office
and looked down on the main Promenade. The two main screens at either end
that usually played muzak videos were now switched to outside viewing,
and groups stood staring and chattering in amazement at the sight of a
planet below them.
Heads turned as she appeared, questions written on every face. All she
could do was shrug helplessly, "I have *no* idea. But I'm going to find
out."
Hitting her commbadge she called, "Mulder to Departmental Officers.
Captain Vaughan, Lieutenants de l'Isle, Mattingly, Omar, Brey, Maru, Doc
Alleir and Ensign Angel - report for emergency briefing, conference room,
fifteen minutes. Yeoman Wilkins, you too. If anyone wants to know what's
up, just look out of any starboard viewport."
She clattered down the stairs, coffee still in hand, and raced along to
the command centre, a look of bemused disbelief still on her face.
"Ops to the Captain - Oh," Morrie Bowers, finishing up night shift,
looked up as she walked in. "Ma'am, I was just trying to comm you. I've
had a message from the planet's surface. They're demanding to speak with
whoever is in charge."
"Speaking before shooting? That's got to be an improvement on the usual.
What did they want?"
"They wanted to know who the hell we were and why the hell we'd suddenly
appeared in orbit above them."
Mulder stopped dead and did a little double-take. "You mean we've moved
somewhere in the night?"
"No Ma'am. We haven't moved anywhere, I can assure you. I checked. All
systems are absolutely normal. I even made a few test comms to Gamma
Command and some of our border patrol ships. We're exactly where we ought
to be. That planet just appeared overnight from nowhere."
Mulder let out a slow breath, trying to get her head round this latest
development. "And yet, according to them, it's *us* that appeared
overnight out of no-where?"
"That's right Ma'am."
Except it wasn't right. Mulder thought for a moment then said, "Give me
fifteen minutes and then call them back and put him through to the
conference room, so we can all see what they have to say."
"Aye Ma'am,"
"And go to Yellow - no, not yellow, go to Nice Green Alert."
Morrie nodded ands the soft pale green lights flickered instead of the
harsher yellow or strident red.
It signalled that something was certainly up and everyone should have
their wits about them, even though there was no apparent immediate
danger. Security would patrol the operational and command-sensitive areas
more intensively, and the marines would ready themselves. Everyone else
should just - be alert.
Mulder walked slowly through to the conference room, her mind at a
complete loss to even speculate what might have happened. It looked such
a nice planet too...
=/\= Pisces Delight - Promenade - Starbase BoB =/\=
Stickleback yawned. She'd had a particularly vigorous roster the night
before and was miffed that Octopus had put her on the till this early in
the day. A customer handed over a bundle of latinum and walked out with a
Space Hopper 2406. Stickleback picked at her nail varnish.
Octopus was dressing the window display in a new line of electric blue
lingerie. She draped a feather boa lazily across the sleek shoulders of a
model and posed briefly in the window as a good looking man walked past.
Harpoon was working in the back room. Since Algaenon had got lost in the
maze, they'd had to take on her clients between them. None of them
particularly enjoyed this. Looking the way she did, Algaenon seemed to
bring in equally unattractive customers.
The bell on the door chimed briefly as someone entered the shop.
Stickleback continued working at her nails. Her eyelids drooped.
"'S a planet out there, innit," said a familiar voice.
Stickleback and Octopus froze, disbelieving. Then Stickleback leapt out
of her morning lethargy. "Algaenon!" she cried. "You're back!" She ran to
hug the other girl. Her arms almost met around Algaenon's girth; she had
lost weight.
"I see you've appeared at last," said Octopus, less enthusiastic,
although she, too, was pleased to see Algaenon. She certainly did not
want to have to deal with any more of Algaenon's nasty clients. "Where
have you been?"
"Just a minnit, just a minnit," heaved Algaenon, who they now saw was out
of breath. She dumped two overflowing carrier bags on the counter. An
array of cornish pasties, cream buns and chocolate eclairs were squashed
inside. Algaenon delved in and extracted the nearest source of pastry,
crammed it into her mouth, and devoured the lot. "Ah, that's better," she
sighed, her mouth half full. "Went to De'Aths. Have one if you want," she
added dubiously, because she was perfectly capable of eating the lot
herself.
"Well, tell us," said Octopus impatiently. "Where have you been?"
"I was in the maze, innit," said Algaenon. "Nothin' to eat or anythin'.
Not even a decent takeaway in there." Her eyes misted over, recollecting
the horror of the past few days. "I almost starved. Then I got put in the
ceiling. Horrible. Was there for hours. Then somebody saw me pants, see?"
Algaenon pointed. Her thighs had been squeezed into a pair of florescent
yellow hotpants. Octopus reeled in disgust. Stickleback nodded
sympathetically.
"I shouted, and they got a crane, or somethin'. Then I saw lots of people
and thought there was a show and there's this planet out there," finished
Algaenon, and instantly stuffed a pasty into her mouth.
"Planet? What are you talking about?" Octopus planted one hand firmly on
her hip and glared interrogatively. "You've gone mad, Algae. Days without
food have turned you into a delusional maniac."
Algaenon shrugged. She didn't understand Octopus.
"Looked kinda blue and green," she said vaguely.
"Where was the planet, Algaenon?" said Stickleback kindly. She had
learned from experience it was wise to humour the little quirks of
strange people. They were more likely to pay well then.
Octopus exploded. "Don't encourage her! The last thing we need is her
wittering on about planets to clients. Planets, I ask you. We're in the
backest backwaters of the last desert of space. This is the end, girls.
There ain't no return ticket." Quite pleased with this little speech,
Octopus returned to the window display and saw large crowds gathering on
the Promenade. "Might just nip out for a fag," she added, and zipped out
of the shop. Curious, Stickleback followed suit. Algaenon and a bag of
pastry trailed after them.
The girls forced their way through the swarms of civilians grouped at the
main viewport. Octopus' elbows jabbed sharply, forging a way through. The
large panes of the viewport materialised abruptly. There were the stars,
looking faintly ethereal as ever, and there was a planet, vaguely
reminiscent of Earth. Octopus was too late to prevent her mouth dropping.
Stickleback gasped.
"Wow! I see it too Algae! Maybe we're both mad!"
Algaenon chomped on a cream bun. "'S still there, innit. I thought it
might have gone."
"Gone? Where would it have gone to?" Octopus demanded, assuming an air of
authority as though she had known about the new planet all along.
Algaenon shrugged.
"Well, it must have come from somewhere," Stickleback said reasonably,
and echoing the general trend of conversation around them. "Maybe it will
go back there."
Octopus regained her composure. "Go and get Harpoon, Stickleback. She has
to see this. Where there's a planet, there's people, and where there's
people, there may be business ventures..."
Stickleback left obligingly, leaving Octopus to glare at Algaenon.
Unconcerned, Algaenon offered her an apple tart.
/\= Arihana Dharma's Quarters - Starbase BoB =/\=
You know that feeling. That feeling of waking up to a brand new day and
having a spring in your step? No me neither, but it looks good in blue
biro. Anyways, someone got up feeling chipper. Arihana was humiming as
she wrapped the red terry towel robe around herself. Had been a good
sleep; she felt refreshed enough to take on the world. She yawned and
rubbed her eyes as she padded in the general direction of the bathroom.
The sleepy lull broken by the sound of the stripey pyjama bottoms
rustling as she moved. Arihana splashed the cool water onto her face
before proceeding to brush her teeth. Felt something of an anticlimax,
given the drama last night of prising herself from her work to retire for
the night. There was the rushing sound for the next three minutes, of the
bristles gliding over tooth enamel. Another burst of water to cleanse the
palatte before reaching for the towel.
The wet brunette mass was being rubbed dry vigourously as Arihana stood
half dressed in trousers and grey undershirt. You know, if she had any
sense of decency, Arihana wouldn't be standing so close to the viewing
port. There was no hurry, no urgent appointments; the counsellor could
take her time for once. Counselling was still standing, should Parvis
turn up from having had his jollies, he still had a department to call
his own. The damp towel was tossed onto the bed, as Arihana reached for
the teal jersey. A department to call his own, it had been brief that
trip into tyranny. Ah, well, all good things must come to an end. Still
half asleep, the counsellor threaded her arms through that of the
garment. The hole in the top gaped as she pulled her head through.
Arihana untucked a couple of damp dresses from under the collar and
rubbed her eyes. Was she still dreaming, had her brain not yet engaged
with the real world? "Bloody hell, we've emigrated. Terra firma. Aint see
that in a while."
No one had said they were moving; there had been no mention of weighing
anchors. Had the captain decided to go off on one again? What was it this
time, gigantic gastropods, fiendish felines? Get a grip, and grow up,
Arihana thought. Picking up the paddle brush from beside the bed, Arihana
brushed through the hair. It was getting long, and starting to curl,
there were a few greys glinting finely. Arihana broke with convention,
choosing to plait the tresses, fingers working away deftly. Hadn't done
that in years. Still Arihana frowned, the orbiting mass looked a lot like
Earth. Odd. Very odd, she thought, fastening tied the end of the plait.
She tossed her hair over her left shoulder, the hair curled like the tip
of a scorpians tail. Definetly needed a cut.
Arihana was still wearing a frown. Wearing it any longer would require
botox. The brows unfurrowed at the thought. The counsellor smoothed down
some of the teal jersey that had crumpled around her waist as she looked
out of the viewing port. Darjeeling. Chai. Assam. Ceylon. Earl 'tastes
like ditchwater' Grey. Some serious tea would be needed to get her head
round this one. The last time she had checked, BoB was somewhere in the
back of beyond. Any huge rocks were usually being traded either in the
jewellery quarter or fought over by junkies wanting a hit. Yet here was
one, on the doorstep. A huge one. Was no one brave enough to set it in
platignum or chip a bit off and get high?
Wonder what it's like, this brave new world, she thought to herself as
she left for the promenade. The counsellor rubbed her palms togther.
White bread. Streaky bacon. HP Sauce.
=/\= Main Promenade - Starbase BoB =/\=
Arihana was sitting outside Café Rouge, feet resting rather casually on
the tabletop. The counsellor was nibbling one half of a bacon sandwich,
in between sipping tea. There were plenty of people milling around, small
crowds milled around the screens, debating between themselves what the
situation was. Her stomach growled, as she took another bite. There was
something about HP sauce and bacon, as she brushed the white crumbs off
her lap. Finishing the one half, Arihana took the mug of tea in her
hands. Chai. The staple of which were aniseed, cardomoms and unrefined
syrupy sugar. Arihana shrugged, and she sipped the tea, still watching.
No doubt there was a perfectly logical explanation. The counsellor
laughed quietly to herself. "Tch, having a blonde moment. Honestly, how
long you been here?" This was BoB. If there was a logical explanation,
perhaps she ought to reconsider her vocation.
=/\= Palmice Quarters - Starbase BoB =/\=
Frank Palmice woke up on something lumpy. He groaned; he hated that.
Twisting his back and wriggling into a more comfortable position, he
heard muffled sounds of protest. His eyes opened slowly, and his vision
caught a strange woman partly next to him, partly below him. What the
hell? How did she get in bed? He noticed he was naked too. Great, now he
was awake. Frank muttered annoyed to himself, pushing the woman away,
turning on his side. Her protests didn't help much to get in a sleeping
mode. And inevitably, now he had to pee.
He put his legs over the edge of! his bed and sat himself up lazily,
scratching his groin and belching loudly. The woman crawled up too, and
he could feel her staring at him.
"How much do I owe you?" Frank asked, disinterested. Absently he dug into
a small bag where he kept some slips of latinum. The usual fee found
itself quickly into his hand, half offering it to the prostitute.
"Screw you!" the woman spat, "I'm not a whore!" But she snatched away the
money anyway, pocketing it expertly beyond reach of her customer.
"Yeah, whatever," Frank responded, getting up on his feet now, staggering
to the bathroom. Why was the floor always ! so bloody cold anyway? He
shivered and stepped on the filthy rug that lay on the bathroom floor.
Fetching his tool, he started urinating merrily. In a thick, healthy
stream, the golden shower poured from his body. Ahhh. It was good to"IIIIIIEEEEE!!!" came the scream from the other room. A startled Frank
lost his steady aim and started spraying urine everywhere around.
Desperately dividing his attention between keeping his penis under
control, trying to find out why the woman was screaming, and emergencystopping the stream of pee, Frank managed to do neither.
"Jesus! What the fek," he muttered, shaking off the last series of drops,
and rushing back to the bedroom, leaving the bathroom floor partially
flooded with his own waste! water. The woman had pulled away the
curtains, which usually were kept close by Frank, he didn't bother using
them, and was staring at something outside. "What the hell is the matter
with you, bitch?" he bit to her.
"It's a planet! It's a planet!" she yelled, hopping up and down like a
fanatic kangaroo with serious brain damage.
"Let me see," he said, shoving her aside to make space for himself. Frank
looked through the window, where between the outer rings of the station,
he could clearly see a sphere of blue and green, that was unmistakably a
planet. Frank shrugged. So? Didn't we have a planet below before, Frank
wondered? He could have sworn they had one. Then again, how often did he
stare out of the window? As if the sta! rs out there were something
special to look at...He'd rather watch the topless dancers in Bronchov's
beachclub, or some holovideos featuring hard action and similar porn.
"Right, it's a planet," he said, turning to her, "What's your name
again?"
"Sam," she responded, still clearly dazed about the overnight appearance
of the planet.
"Look, Sam," Frank started, crossing his arms. "I think you...Sam, is
that short for Samantha?" he asked as a side-thought.
"No..." she sighed and rolled her brown eyes. Her hair was straight and
pretty, with bangs and a ponytail...A shame she was in the business, she
was quite good looking, in a girl-next-door kind of way. "Its short for
Samuel," she said, "It's a long story."
"Yes, yes, I am sure it is," Frank said, holding up his hands. It was way
too early to be hearing some broad yap at him. "Planet?" he reminded her,
which made her immediately flushed and excited once more. "Can you now
get the hell out of here?" he pressed. Quickly, she got dressed and
scurried out of his quarters, as Frank crawled back in bed. He had still
some serious sleeping to do.
=/\= Meanwhile - In Other Parts of BoB =/\=
"Calm down, my brothers and sisters!" the white-haired leader of the
llama cult spoke from his pedestal on one of the lowest decks on the
station. "The appearance of the planet is a great sign, bestowed onto us
by the Divine Being, blessed be the DB in all eternity!" The leader got
up to speed now. "Yes. The weight of glory is upon us! We must
acquire...er...proper transportation! Go forth and sell more books, so
that we may acquire a grand shuttle with which to transport ourselves to
the planet! This might take many months, but remember, the glorious
Divine Being, blessed be the DB in all eternity, is giving us a clear
sign of its wondrous supremacy! Double your efforts. Sleep and hunger
cannot touch you, while you are doing the good work for our cause! Let us
bathe in its presence, so that we will be enlightened, let us pray.
And...er...sell ! more books!"
The members of the Village People Poker Club, minus Frank, were in their
usual hide-out, gawking at the sight of the planet from their hide-out.
It was all over the station's news feed, and their small set displayed
pictures of it to the flabbergasted group of hapless players, who had
been at it all night. "Planet," Jackie the Horse uttered finally, which
broke the spell, and had them all on their feet, excited, sober and awake
within the second, rushing out. Everyone wanted to go down there.
Chief Petty Officer Barker was awake since early morning. Sitting in his
office now, he was one of the first to spot the appearance of the strange
planet. Out of the blue it popped up! How extraordinary...Extraordinary
th! ings made him jumpy. With a few clicks on his console, he directed
the system to check on his personal slush funds that he kept on a
numbered bank account on Risa. Thankfully, everything was still there,
his little capital for rainy days. He looked at the planet and shook his
head. Nothing good could come from this...
=/\= Personal Quarters - Starbase BoB =/\=
Shinandra woke up to yet another day and found that she wasn't feeling
any less confused then when she had gone to bed. She wasn't feeling *bad*
per se, but was certainly not feeling clear on things. Little thoughts
were still running around in fearful circles in her head and making
everything a little foggy.
However, the day was awake and it was time to get to it. She pushed her
way through the small haze and set her fleet to the floor. It didn't take
long before Nandra had taken a quick shower, combed her hair and got in
to uniform. Briefly, she wondered if she should try wearing make up
again. It hadn't been too easy before, but maybe...nah, she cast that
thought aside. She put on her boots, took care of Puggles and then headed
out the door, heading in the direction of the Infirmary.
Stretching her arms over her head, she decided to spend some time on
break tonight excercising. She needed to keep up with it again, she
decided as she walked, taking a slightly more leisurely route today.
She was fairly lost in her own thoughts and didn't look out of the
starboard viewports. As called in the psychological aspects, she was in
her own schema and not quite seeing anything that was drastically outside
of it. Not at first at least. After a moment though, she stopped and
blinked with out turning her head. Had she just seen...No, couldn't be.
However, she couldn't get herself moving again. She looked out the window
and saw...a planet. There was suddenly a PLANET beneath them...Where in
the hell did a PLANET come from!?
Like any mostly rational human being, she quickly recounted through
several memories to assure herself that there hadn't been a planet here
before that she had just missed all this time. No, no, no planets...But
behold, now, down there, a planet! Nothing could ever be simple, could
it...Though, now her personal life seemed a far more minor thing.
"Mulder to Departmental Officers. Captain Vaughan, Lieutenants de l'Isle,
Mattingly, Omar, Brey, Maru, Doc Alleir and Ensign Angel - report for
emergency briefing, conference room, fifteen minutes. Yeoman Wilkins, you
too. If anyone wants to know what's up, just look out of any starboard
viewport."
Well, at least she wasn't the only one hallucinating...She made a mental
note to check the air supply for escaped hallucigens after the briefing,
but for now, she had to head that way. As she did, a Nice Green Alert
started flashing above her head and Shinandra began to debate the
benefits of a boring, predictable life.
=/\= de' Isle-Brey Residence - Starbase BoB =/\=
Paxan Brey had crawled out of the hammock she normally shared with her
boyfriend, Felix de' Isle and was now standing under the hard streaming
jets in her shower. The last several weeks had been hit-or-miss in the
"togetherness" department with Felix, which had been taking its toll on
the young woman and although Paxan didn't consider herself a person
enslaved to carnal pleasures, she was definitely missing the healthy sex
life she'd always had with Felix.
Sighing heavily, Paxan toweled off and applied the fragrant lotion on her
skin as per her normal daily ritual. She felt the relaxation of the hot
water ebbing from her muscles as another day of uncertainty was
beginning. Something was going to have to change, she could not live like
this forever. She needed to get to the bottom of what was going on with
Felix and since BoB had returned to a state of normalcy, this would be
the perfect time to sit down with him and hash it out. Whatever it was,
she needed to know so that she knew where she stood with the pilot.
"Thank god there are no crises going on," she said to her self as she
pulled on her uniform and checked her chronometer. The morning was still
young. Perhaps she could drop by Abode for a cup of coffee before
starting the day, then lunch with Yus to discuss wedding details and
tonight she and Felix could have an evening to themselves where they
could get to the heart of their problems. With any luck, they could be
back together and one-hundred percent by this time tomorrow.
She felt better.
A crackling announcement suddenly broke over her commbadge and Mulder's
voice sounded out, ""Mulder to Departmental Officers. Captain Vaughan,
Lieutenants de l'Isle, Mattingly, Omar, Brey, Maru, Doc Alleir and Ensign
Angel - report for emergency briefing, conference room, fifteen minutes.
Yeoman Wilkins, you too. If anyone wants to know what's up, just look out
of any starboard viewport."
Paxan blinked and wondered what was going on. What could possibly possess
the captain to call and emergency briefing at this hour in the morning?
What could be outside that was so important?
Walking across the room, Paxan peered out the large viewport in her
living room. Her eyes widened like saucers as she looked upon the sight
of the mystery planet that had not been there the last time she looked.
"Oh...bloody...hell..." she breathed.
It took several seconds before Paxan realized that her day was not going
to go as planned.
=/\= Lt Omar's Quarters - Starbase BoB =/\=
She rose early, wanting to get a whole list of things done.
Vacating the bed was the hardest thing about the morning, she reckoned as
she sang and showered, pleased to be over with the angst-ridden process
of awaking in the morning.
She quickly dressed and ran a cursory brush through her hair. Few people
would be up during that hour and by the time the Starbase generally woke
up, her hair would have decided to tame down and settle itself.
But coffee first.
Yus never got that cup of coffee. She headed out of her quarters towards
the general direction of the Promenade and headed for the nearest
establishment that was open at that hour. Strangely, Pigs was though the
coffee hadn't been brewed yet.
She declined to have a seat while waiting for the coffee. From
experience, she was aware that taking a seat could cause her to spend
half the morning in there without accomplishing anything. And she had a
long list of things to do.
Yus sauntered along the Promenade, within view of Pigs, should Mrs
Comfort prepare the coffee earlier than expected. Casually, she glanced
through the starboard viewport before looking away.
Then she stopped short. It must have been her eyes playing games with
her.
She looked again.
There was a..."...planet?" Yus remarked aloud to herself. "There's a
goddamn planet under the base!"
She dashed off immediately to her office to secure some proper equipment,
completely forgetting her coffee in her haste.
Tapping on her console, she did confirm that was an object which looked
suspiciously like Planet Earth sitting coyly under the Starbase. Starbase
BoB at that.
I probably ought to inform Mulder, she told herself firmly. But how do
you explain...
She was saved from having to explain. Mulder beat her to it.
"Mulder to Departmental Officers. Captain Vaughan, Lieutenants de l'Isle,
Mattingly, Omar, Brey, Maru, Doc Alleir and Ensign Angel - report for
emergency briefing, conference room, fifteen minutes. Yeoman Wilkins, you
too. If anyone wants to know what's up, just look out of any starboard
viewport."
"You've seen it too, huh?" she muttered.
"Omar to Mulder. I'll be in the conference room in ten. Over and out."
=/\= Jack Angel's Quarters - Starbase BoB =/\=
In that odd twilight moment before a human consciousness moves from sleep
to wakefulness, the mind dredges up some odd images. Jack's mind was
pretty odd to begin with, but never more so than in those few seconds.
He hadn't slept well to begin with, and having to get up early was not a
prospect that he was adapting to. It had taken Jack some time to finally
drift off to sleep, as he had been worried about the upcoming medical
exam scheduled for that morning. He had spent a considerable number of
hours tossing sleeplessly as his brain ran through different outcomes.
Just as he had begun to get sleepy, his subconscious began to work
through possible ways of avoiding the exam all together. That had taken
another hour or so, and had left Jack with no plan out of the exam and
even less sleep.
He had finally drifted off a few hours before the computer began to yell
at him to wake up. Jack ignored it, as he did most mornings, and decided
to wait and doze until Claire Cartwright came to wake him personally.
That didn't happen though, and somewhere in the back of Jack's mind it
registered. It didn't register enough for him to want to get up
himself...it was just a curious thing. The other curious thing was the
odd lighting of his quarters this morning. There was something different
about it, but Jack wasn't sure what. To discover what, he'd have to wake
up a little more, and that just seemed like a bad idea.
Eventually his body did what his mind was unwilling to do - make him get
up. While Jack could easily ignore the computer alarm, he couldn't ignore
his bodily functions. With his movements completely on autopilot, Jack
dragged himself out of bed and padded off to the bathroom. He opened his
eyes just enough to be able to navigate through the room without stubbing
his toe on the furniture. It was still dark, though the sunlight
reflecting off the planet surface allowed him to see clearly enough.
Several minutes passed before Jack walked back from the bathroom, still
on autopilot. He was just about to climb back into bed when his hind
lizard-brain reared up and smacked him in the back of the head. The
effect was something like having water poured over your head. Jack
paused, his eyes fully open now, and took inventory of his surroundings.
Room, check. Bed, check. Clothes on the floor, check. Breathable air,
check. Windows, check. Planet outside the windows, che...
Jack turned and faced the view outside the station. He slowly walked up
to the window and stared at the planet below, taking in the different
contours and colors. The fact that the planet wasn't there the night
before never really came to Jack's mind. It was there now, and no doubt
there would be questions about its appearance.
"Well ain't that a kick in the teeth..." he muttered to no one in
particular.
Before Jack could decide what to do, his bed chirped and began to speak
to him. Jack turned towards the sound and pulled back the covers in time
to find his commbadge stuffed between two pillows. The muffled voice
exploded in volume just in time for Jack to hear the majority of the
message from Captain Mulder.
"...ru, Doc Alleir and Ensign Angel - report for emergency briefing,
conference room, fifteen minutes. Yeoman Wilkins, you too. If anyone
wants to know what's up, just look out of any starboard viewport."
Yeah, there would be questions. Jack sat on the edge of the bed for a
moment and looked back out at the mysterious planet. Eventually he smiled
and began to get dressed...he didn't care where it came from, or why it
was here, but this pretty little world had just proven to be the best
excuse out of his medical exam he could hope to come up with.
Five minutes later Jack stepped out of his quarters with a mug of coffee
so big that a Nausicaan would have trouble holding it. He sipped it
happily as he headed for the conference room.
=/\= Brig - Starbase Raven =/\=
"So, I take it this bubblegum pinwheel isn't really a pinwheel?" Zerin
said as she stepped out of the holding cell.
"No, Lieutenant, that's Monkfish," Sandrik Celax said.
"Then the soda can next to her is McArnh."
"Uh-uh. It's Harlan."
A few steps behind them, Carsin stopped to glower at the Beeblebrox
cultists.
"I will pray for your salvation...as soon as I have this black eye taken
care of," he muttered.
"On the day of judgment, Beeblebrox will no doubt face off against Yim!"
a cultist replied. "And when they do..."
"Maybe a nice pagh wraith will eat them all up for lunch," Sandrik said.
"Come on, Carsin, let's go."
Des was just getting to her feet, the news of their imminent release
arriving. Garrett headed right out, but she promised to catch up with him
shortly for a better good bye than some brig time. She was about to leave
when she noticed another officer acting...odd. She walked over with a
concerned expression, "Are you all right?" she asked.
"I had something to eat that didn't agree with me," Zerin replied. "You
know, you look like a ceiling fan. What's your name?"
"I'm Ensign Desdemona Sovanae, I'm the Caledonia's new medical officer,"
she replied, "What did you eat?"
"I ate a mushroom," Zerin said. "I bought it at an organic food stall."
Emel the Bajoran hippie chick, added, "And then she blew it up!" Emel was
still pissed off at Zerin, but even more pissed off at the fascist pig
security officers who'd arrested her for selling illicit substances.
Suddenly, Des had a very good idea about what sort of mushroom this had
been. She gave a warning look to the Bajoran before turning back towards
the other woman and observing her carefully.
"So how'd you end up here? Not on the Caly. Here in the brig, I mean,"
Zerin said. Somehow, in her 'shroom-addled mind, she'd figured Desdemona
was not here just to spring them out.
"Just the wrong place and the wrong time," Des smirked, checking her
pupils and listening to the woman's breathing. "I didn't catch your
name...?"
"I'm Lieutenant Zerin Fell, chief of operations."
Des nodded, "Well, Miss Fell, how long ago did you eat this mushroom?"
"Uh...a few hours ago. I think. Some hippie said it was a special
mushroom. It was special all right. And then I blew up her food stall.
But that was a mistake. It looked like a big piggy bank to me. You can
put anything in a piggy bank."
Suddenly, Evar Carsin waltzed up to them. "Welcome to the ship, ensign.
Please, take the time to read this literature. It is all about the
teachings of Yim." Then he walked away.
Holding on to the brochure for a moment, Des watched him walk away with a
quizzical look and then tossed it over her shoulder. The last thing she
needed was some stupid religous brochures. "All right, the effects of
this mushroom should be wearing off soon. If it doesn't pass in the next
few hours, you should probably see the infimary. Until then..." she
hesitated over a suggestion, "Find somewhere, your quarters perhaps, and
stay there til the effects pass."
Zerin rolled her eyes and then scowled. "ENSIGN! I don't want to sit
around in my quarters until the effects pass. I want them GONE! Okay?
GONE! Now! Can't you give me something so that I'm not hallucinating
anymore?"
Unphased, Des just folded her arms and gave a blank, polite expression
and faint smile. "Well, Lieutenant, I'm afraid there isn't anything I can
do for you right now. You are the one who ate the mushroom without
checking its properties," she pointed out, undisturbed by the outburst.
"As the Medical Officer, I have to do what's in the best interest of the
patient and waiting this out is what's best. I don't want to subject your
body to any further chemical substances than neccessary, considering what
it's already been put through."
"WHAT?" Zerin watched Des turn into a column of walking molasses. "EXCUSE
me, ENSIGN, but I thought I was buying a MUSHROOM to EAT. I did not
REALIZE what it was. You DO realize that people do NOT go to organic food
stalls hoping to buy anything other than organic food, OKAY? Do NOT play
blame games here!"
"Yeah! She blew up my food stall," Emel whined.
Des gave him a dry expression, still mostly impassive. "Please, you're
not helping this process. In fact, you're the source of the trouble."
"I went on a groovy mind trip so I wanted to take other people on the
trip," Emel explained. "I'm part of the Mind Trip crew. We sell mushrooms
like that. We've set up all over starbases. My boyfriend, like, wants to
set one up on someplace called Starbase BoB and-"
Zerin burst out laughing.
"WHAT, man?" Emel said.
"You dumbass. First of all, you just told us about dealing in
hallucinogenics with a security guard standing just a few feet away. And
secondly, if you're going to want to do business on Starbase BoB, you're
either a. stupid or b. fried from eating your own mushrooms."
Rubbing her temples, Desdemona laughed quietly. "I'm guessing it's a
combination," she commented to herself.
And then the cultists from Beeblebrox sauntered up. "Let us spread the
word of OUR religious order," the Ferengi said.
"Stay out of this, it's a medical matter," Des said calmly and politely
before turning back to the other woman. "Look, Miss Fell. It does not
matter. You ate the mushroom and now you're having hallucinations. Since
you ate it hours ago and have suffered no other affects, I think it to be
otherwise harmless and the best course of action is to wait it out. If
they do not pass soon, then seek medical help."
Des pushed herself to her feet, "Otherwise, I believe we're free to go.
Would you like me to walk with you back to your quarters?" It was a
curious change in Des, from the vibrant care free attitude off duty to
the medical persona she was now, but she slipped in and out of it as
easily as she slipped in and out of her clothing...
Zerin was seething still. The only thing that made her feel remotely
happy was that Emel was starting to whine and protest and blab about
fascist security guards as they queried her about dealing drugs.
Then the Beeblebrox cultists surrounded them. "Perhaps the word of our
great god can provide an answer," the Cardassian said in a blissed-out
monotone.
"Perhaps it can," Des smiled nicely, "Maybe you all should go over and
sit in that corner and meditate on it. Maybe the answer will come to us
then..."
"YOU go meditate on it," Zerin said. "I'll go back to my quarters if I
can find them." It dawned on her that it would be hard to find the ship
while hallucinating.
Des stifled a sigh, to the hippies she shooed them to the corner, then to
Fell, she gestured out of the Brig. "Whether you like it or not, I'm
helping you to your quarters, come on," she said, starting to walk and
gesturing the other woman to follow her as the medical officer blithely
ignored the others seething.
"Perturbation Problems"
=/\= Chief Counselor's Office - Starbase BoB =/\=
Parvis' head rested on his desk, sleepily.
The unexpected patient prattled on. "I just can't believe it. It is
just...there. So ominous."
"Why did you wake me so early?" Parvis asked, completely oblivious to the
words. "I just arrived. Can't I get one good night's sleep?" He barely
remembered the trip from his quarters to his office, harried along by the
frantic patient, blathering on about something or another.
"Your assistant told me you'd be available bright and early, Sir!"
Parvis drug his face across the desk, towards his coffee. It just isn't
fair, he thought, as he inhaled the strong, steaming drink. Llara must
not do this to me.
"What are you going on about?" Parvis attempted to wake up and pay
attention for a moment.
"The Planet! That fearsome thing. I'm on a starbase in the middle of
nowhere and it haunts me!"
"Huh?" Parvis tried to shake the cobwebs free. "Fear of a planet. That is
a new one." He tried out some words in his head. Geophobia? Terraphobia?
Equatorial Madness? Apogeeal Trauma?
"Hey, I'm not the only one. You should see all the..."
"Kepler's Disease? Sidereal Malady?" Parvis continued his list. "I
suppose it would depend on what sort of planet we're talking about. Sure,
Demon Class, right up there with snakes and such. Class H Planet? Yea,
but it's a dry heat!" Parvis chuckled over the old joke. He was finally
starting to wake up.
"No, I think it is Class M."
"Fine, fine. Class M Night-Terrors it is." Parvis thought for a moment.
"Perhaps it isn't the *planet* that bothers you." Parvis made little airquotes with his fingers to emphasize the silliness of the word. "Perhaps
it is some aspect of planets that you find disturbing. Think back to the
last time you saw one. What about it struck you as particularly
fearsome?"
The patient puzzled over the question. It had been surprisingly recently,
the first and last sighting coming just before he'd gone to bang on the
Counselor's door so early in the morning. "Well. I wasn't expecting it to
be there. It is so big."
"Hm, perhaps a touch of megalophobia. We might be able to treat that.
Start with some small toy balls, work our way up through the medicine
balls in the gym," Parvis mused.
"It has all that water! And open space! And air!"
"Hm. Yes. A potent combination. Hydrophobia, agoraphobia, aerophobia.
Quite a list!" Parvis was excited. This was a worthy case. Perhaps he
could get a scholarly journal interested in the results. "The analysis
and curative method for hydrogoraerophobia. No, hydrogoraerokinesis!"
"You can, you can, you can cure this?" The patient stammered.
"Well, it might take some doing. It will require quite a few sessions.
Perhaps later, on down the road, a visit to an actual planet somewhere.
You know, when you're ready."
Parvis began searching his schedule in the computer. "Tell you what,
we'll find a regular time for you to stop in, get to work on this
problem. In the meantime, try to avoid any *planets* on the starbase, and
you'll be fine." Parvis repeated his mocking finger gestures.
Parvis tried to not to chuckle at the idea. The very idea, someone on
Starbase BoB, afraid of planets. BoB was so isolated on this backside of
the quadrant, you'd have to travel at high warp just to find the edge of
nowhere, much less to come to the middle of it.
The patient left, shakily. The Counselor seemed confident. He didn't
appear afraid. Which contradicted any number of rumors.
Parvis was refilling his coffee when the Captain's announcement sounded.
"Report to a meeting. Fine way to welcome me back," Parvis sneered at the
message.
After refilling his drink, the Nice Green Alert was activated. Parvis
looked in horror at the polite NGA status message displayed on his
terminal. "Oh, crap. Something is wrong! What could it be?"
=/\= Marine Barracks - Deck 124 - Starbase BoB =/\=
Once again, Cade was back in the training area, working out some more of
the bottomless aggression that he was feeling. This time, though, there
was a different method of release.
The computer intoned, 'Eight kay-ten, one kay-five, one miss.'
"Shit," Cade muttered as he worked the action on the replica M-14 combat
rifle and reloaded a ten round magazine. Taking aim on the 75 meter range
that had been constructed, he willed himself to calm his breathing and
relax as he gently squeezed the trigger.
"SKIPPER!"
The shot
position
"Someone
would be
went wild. Into the wall to be precise. He rolled from the prone
and onto his side to eye his NCOIC who had disturbed him.
better be dead, Master Guns." The tone implied that someone
if there wasn't.
"You don't have your commbadge with you, sir."
"There's a reason for that. It's called, 'I don't want to be disturbed.'"
"Yeah. Sorry about that, sir, but there's something you probably should
see."
Shaking his head, Cade got to his feet and slung the rifle over his
shoulder. "Lead on, and this better be good or you'll be a Corporal by
nightfall."
Canowicakte just smiled and started walking.
Just as Cade got to the windows, his badge started squawking about a
senior officer's meeting. Right now, that voice was at the top of his
shit-list, so he silenced the device. And stared.
A planet.
A bloody freakin' planet.
"Do I get to keep my stripes, Skipper?"
"No one likes a smart ass, Master Guns."
=/\= Flight Deck - Starbase BoB =/\=
Felix's head rolled on his desk. Not willing to face the bedtime
experience that would inevitably wake Paxan and possibly lead to several
conversations he did not want to have, he had come back to the office,
changed into his uniform and attempted to shave at four in the morning.
His commbadge beeped repetitively. He thought it was an insect in his
office so slept through it for a good couple of minutes, until he thought
he was having a coronary and sat up dead straight. He took a deep breath,
levelled, and listened to it.
It was a call to the conference room and something about some starboard
windows. He muttered to his feet, crawled around the desk, and realised
he wasn't entirely sober yet from the night before. His hair stuck out in
all directions and he had bits of tissue blotting cuts around his
jawline.
Some early staff made a little way for him as he wandered out into the
bay, wondering why it was brighter than normal but not keen to find out
the source. The fascinating night shift crew had set up the external
forcefield and were gazing at the planet below still. Felix, however, was
faced toward the door, until curiosity got the better of him.
He turned around. The sight took him by surprise. He leapt back a foot,
colliding with the doors, and shrieked.
=/\= Five Minutes Later =/\=
"I think they call that the Parvis Maru manoeuver," someone - possibly
blue, possibly named Takarth - said above him.
"Gerroff." Felix swung out at everything and clocked the dog, who didn't
do very much except for escape. Lester whined as Felix used anything to
crawl to his feet. "What's this about a planet?"
"One just appeared below," Takarth replied, glad to be off her original
subject. She didn't call him boss, or Felix, or anything any more - she
didn't quite know what she should call him, as he was nothing she seemed
to recognise as himself. "You were called to a meeting a few minutes
ago."
One of the BoBCats smirked. Normally, it would have been forgiveable.
However, Felix went mildly mad.
"Laugh at me again and you'll be on cleaning rotas," he hissed at them
all. "Show some damned respect around here."
Red-eyed, slouch-limbed and tissue-scarred, Felix curled out of the
doors, draped in an atrocity of a hangover. To the end of one corridor a
different lift awaited, one that he had come to use lately as it was
normally abandoned.
When he
lately,
planet.
to cram
staring
was in, he rested his head against the wall. He'd felt more quiet
with no emergency schedules or orders to adhere to. And now, a
There were going to be flight runs, things to organise, too much
up his brain with. He felt too nervous and cranky to start
at timetables again.
The lift stopped to collect people on the Promenade, a few that he
recognised. He hung in the rear corner, pretending that he wasn't leaning
on the wall. He tried to plan out where the next replicator was that he
could get a decent coffee. He ignored his reflection, still plastered
with unholiness from the night before.
It hit its destination and Felix spewed out, so unready to face the day
ahead. Everything about this planet occuring spelt a headache. In a fit
he remembered the location of a nearby first-aid kit and raided it for
anything possibly useful. Then he stole a padd from a desk while no one
was looking and armed himself with a stylus.
It was time to be an officer.
It was a shame, of course, that no one pointed out to him that he looked
like an electrified junkie who had just been transported directly out of
bed.
He took a deep breath and entered the conference room.
=/\= Turbolift - Starbase Raven =/\=
Shoulder-to-shoulder with the rich, worn cotton of a pair of Starfleet's
finest yellow-shirts, McArnh looked at his matt reflection in the
polished doors. He wondered what this Commodore Hawk was like. He
supposed he should have found out earlier.
He glanced at the padd he'd had poked
misdemeanours were varied and equally
they wouldn't come across that way to
car reached the right deck and he was
at him below. The crew's
funny, although he could see why
their hosts. Eventually the lift
motioned toward a desk.
"Commander McArnh to see Commodore Hawk," he said politely, attempting to
impress that he and his crew were not capable of the crimes accused. It
failed rather obviously.
"She's expecting you, you can go right in," the Yeoman in front of Indi's
office replied deadpan. If he was already aware of who was standing in
front of him and why he was there, he was oblivious to it.
Indi looked out of her door and saw the Commander standing there.
Grabbing a coke and sitting down with it, she sat down and barely looked
up when McArnh stepped inside. "Commander. I'm Commodore Hawk," she
stated the obvious.
"Commander McArnh," he said, and stood there awkwardly for a moment. "I
suppose I should apologise for the actions of myself and my crew."
"Yes, you should," Indi did look up now at the Commander who had caused
rukus in her Securtiy department. Michael had been all but happy these
last few days and the situation with the Caledonia crew had certainly had
a large part in that. "Sit down," she added, pointing to the chair in
front of her desk.
McArnh frowned, not entirely content with being marshalled around, but
took the seat anyway. "It would appear that everyone thinks me the leader
of a co-ordinated petty crime ring," he commented.
Indi raised her eyebrows in surprise at that. "It would appear that you
are down in Starfleet records as the Commanding Officer of the crew of
the USS Caledonia. And it would also appear that that crew spent the
night in my Brig. Which brings your statement dangerously close to the
truth, though I wouldn't call them a petty crime ring."
"Ah good." McArnh leant back in his chair. "That is a relief. It was a
very comfortable brig, by the way. Had a bed in it and everything."
"It's a pretty new Starbase, we're pretty advanced when it comes to that
stuff," Indi smirked and then let the silence stretch for a few moments.
"Tell me, Commander, how come your entire crew managed to get in my Brig?
And don't give me a smart ass reply that they were stupid enough to let
themselves get caught."
He couldn't deny that it had been one of the earlier answers on his mind.
"Coincidence," he told her frankly. "And we have been on that vessel
during rather an intense mission. It didn't end well." He decided to
spare her the grimmer of the details. "I believe they - er, we - may have
misinterpreted the nature of R&R."
Indi listened with interest, she had to admit it was amused interest
though, at least somewhat. "R&R is never to get yourself into trouble,
you know. And certainly not to abuse the hospitality of the facility
where you're holding your R&R."
"Yes, there is that," he admitted. "I don't think it was anyone's
intention, specifically. It just sort of turned out that way. In fact,
most of these were isolated incidents. I suppose a change of air might
have over-excited everyone a bit, given recent events."
"What are your intentions now to follow up on this situation?" Indi asked
curiously. There was enough she could do as CO of the Starbase where they
had been thrown into the brig, but she didn't feel much for implementing
it if their own CO could do that.
"Well, I doubt we'll be let onto the Promenade for much time, and I
understand there's a low-level assignment awaiting me on my desk." He
wondered if this would be interpreted as the due code, "we won't hang
around too long". "I suppose I could slap their wrists and give them a
good talking to."
Indi had to be very careful not to gape. "A slap on their wrists? For
landing in the Brig all together? Are you sure that's not a bit harsh?"
"I was only joking, Commodore. Speaking figuratively," he tried to
explain. "I do not intend to perform any type of physical punishment on
my crew. It would be especially awkward to do it to onesself."
"I wasn't joking either, Commander. Speaking sarcastically," Indi
countered.
An eyebrow arched of its own accord. It had been a habit Grey had been
trying to stop. "Ah good. Then we'll understand one another well. Perhaps
you should tell me how to run my ship a little more, and account for
natural disasters. Such as a lot of worn-out sailors arriving on a decent
starbase for the first time in a long time."
Indi shook her head. "I don't think we understand one another well. I
want you to make sure that your crew doesn't repeat this kind of
behaviour. You're welcome to return here for more R&R after one of your
next missions, but you better guarantee nothing happens then."
"Let us call it the language barrier. I am not always fluent in
Federation Standard." Indeed, he wondered if his grammar worked at all
sometimes. "I will be sure to inform them of the consequences of this
recent spree. And I should think we will be out of your hair soon."
"I am glad you'll inform them," Indi nodded. "Your ship has been repaired
and restocked for as much as circumstances and time allowed," she spoke
her standard line. Given that it was the Caledonia they were talking
about, it could well be that they had 'forgotten' the ship entirely, but
that wasn't exactly up to Indi to follow up on.
"Very decent of you. Even a few new toothbrushes would be nice." McArnh
found himself regretting his present mode, even if the Commodore slipped
into it well. "I will thank you for our stay here. I hope you will not
find it flippant if I thank you for your hospitality."
Indi grinned slightly now. "Godspeed, Commander. I hope your next mission
will work out better."
For some reason, Grey found himself smiling along with her. "Next time,
I'll take you for a drink. Then I might be able to blame you for not
keeping me in order." He gave her courteous and entertained nod before he
left, wondering just what kind of acquaintance he had made, but rather
certain it might be entertaining if it were one he could catch up with in
the future.
As McArnh vanished, Indi shook her head. Strange person. Not that she had
expected much else. Her gaze straying to the coke on her desk, she turned
back to focusing on that, and the padds laying next to it.
=/\= Still Outside Café Rouge - Main Promenade - Starbase BoB =/\=
He had been minding his own business, as he went to grab an apple Danish.
There were witters here and there of this huge planet just appearing over
night. Dhillon had seen the streaming of images that were displayed on
the screens, and felt slightly homesick. There was probably a logical
explanation, what would he know, Dhillon thought as he shrugged. He was
just a civilian. Standing outside of the doorway of the bakery, he espied
a familiar figure.
She was sat there thinking, just people watching. In no rush to clock on,
the counsellor watched the early morning swell of pedestrians on the
promenade. Shaking her head, Arihana lifted the mug from where it had
rested in her lap.
Arihana was forced to sit up, as her feet were pushed off the tabletop.
"Putting your feet on the table, your mother not teach you manners?"
"Eh?"
Dhillon planted himself opposite the counsellor; she still wasn't looking
him in the eye. Bacon sandwich. Brown sauce. Screw the pastry.
Arihana didn't attempt to stop him as the two slices of white bread, and
two rashers of crispy bacon smothered in sauce were lifted over onto the
other side. She tutted, to catch the pastry. Hmm, apple. Apple was good.
Arihana watched as the mug was also dragged across the surface of the
table. The counsellor wasn't impressed, brushing away the flaky crumbs
that had dropped onto the teal jersey to cross her arms. To glare
straight at him. "At least you're looking at me," Dhillon grimaced taking
a slug of the tea. "You Punjabis make awful tea." He pulled his leg back
grinning, as there was crunking noise. Arihana winced, rubbing her ankle
where it had caught the table leg. Didn't make her feel any better.
Arihana muttered something under her breath, before peeling away a flaky
layer of the pastry. Dhillon laughed quietly, "What was that, us
Gujarati's make freshwater pearls look cultured?"Arihana dragged the tea
back over, dipping a piece of pastry into it. Again, Dhillon grimaced,
before eating some of the bacon sandwich. "Yep, you Punjabis are
definitely odd."
Why was he here? Why couldn't he just crawl back under his rock, and
leave her alone? She didn't want to talk to him, didn't want to see him.
She felt like screaming Go away. I feel bad. Dhillon, go way. That spring
her step from waking up, was slowly disappearing. Arihana's finger had
got half around the rim, before it stopped. Dhillon sat forward, resting
his elbow on the tabletop, his palm supported his chin. This he could
read. Could read the whole guilty feelings, can't look you in the eye,
because I'm ashamed. He could read it all right, been there, done that.
Got the annulment. "You seen the lonely planet? Thinking of running
tourist flights, whadyer reckon?"
Arihana shrugged, as she traced a circle on the tabletop. Still in no
hurry to go do some work. This him and her thing was a bit like a
gravitational pull. The tourist flights weren't going to happen, there
had to be another way to engage the counsellor. He couldn't deal with her
avoiding him, and keeping away 'cause of a stupid hypothesis test.
Dhillon had forgiven the moment she had apologised, even before she
smacked him sometime into Easter. "We should compare notes. Both being
newly single." "You mean notches, Dhil. It's been what, a week, two,
even?" "Notches, notes, same thing."
It was not Arihana, that much he knew. She wasn't the type of girl to
have loose knicker elastic. Despite the accusation that had resulted in
the domestic, Dhillon knew her better than that. The odds of Arihana
working her away around the male population were low, negligible at best.
Negligible. That was probably most accurate.
"Wanna keep score? Missis, you're one nil down." "Well, aint you quick.
Round of applause."
Profanities were whizzing Arihana's head. Quick. The shameless feckwit,
he was sitting here as bold as brass. Why wasn't she moving, why had she
poured the tea over his head, and walked off in a huff?
"I was quick, all right. World don't revolve around you, Arihana?"
"Neither does that the gamma quandrant, gonna tackle that in five minutes
too, Dhil?"
Arihana looked at her watch. She really ought to think about going to
work. She picked up the mug in her left hand to stand up. "As much as I'd
like to stay here, and with you-" The counsellor flexed the fingers on
her right hand, as it was released. "Got work to do. See yer. Or not, as
the case may be."
Arihana left, still sipping the mug of tea, Dhillon even waved. Waved as
the foot found it's way back into the boot.
=/\= Observation Windows - Deck 124 - Starbase BoB =/\=
Having stared at the planet successfully, Cade turned to see that
all of his marines were doing the same. With a touch of pride, he
that the two assigned to guard duty were still at their post near
turbolift bank. He looked back around at the others. "Okay folks,
all seen a planet before. Let's get back to work."
nearly
noticed
the
we've
He started toward the office after one of his armourers relieved him of
the target rifle he still had. As he walked, he stripped off the gloves
and field jacket before glancing to his side to see Gideon keeping pace
with him.
"Departmental officers' meeting, sir?"
"Yeah, Top. Maybe find out what in the hell is going on here." They
reached his office and he went by the desk and through a side door that
led into his quarters. H! e pitched the clothing into a hamper in the
corner.
"Do you want me to attend, Skipper?"
"Negative, Master Guns." Cade hooked a thumb toward the door. "I want you
to keep them from wasting the day." He reached in his closet for one of
the regular ship-board duty jackets only to find that there weren't any.
Apparently Mulder still hadn't returned his uniforms. "Nobody's started
shooting at us. Yet."
"Day's still young, sir."
"That it is. That it is." The officer opted for a fresh set of combat
fatigues and started pulling them on. "Just in case, cancel the morning
training sessions and go light on PT."
"Yes, sir. Captain, what do you want them to do instead of the CCQ
drills?"
Cade smiled at his noncom as he grabbed the gunbelt that was looped over
the top o! f the closet door. "I'm sure you'll find them something
suitable to do, Master Gunnery Sergeant Canowicakte. I have every
confidence in your ability to create some busy work."
"Thank you, sir," Gideon grumbled.
As they walked back through the office, Cade buckled the belt on and made
sure that the pistol was seated correctly on his thigh. "I'm not sure how
long I'll be gone, but you're in charge until I get back." He stopped.
"Oh, and Master Guns?"
Gideon stopped as well, but at perfect parade-ground attention. "Sir?"
"Might be a good idea to have Sergeant Finn make sure that commo gear is
field rated."
"Already planned on that, sir."
Cade smiled and chucked the other man on the shoulder. "So, I don't need
to suggest..."
"To have Sergeant Bastian lay out his gear for a combat insertion? No,
sir."
Cade started to open his mouth again.
"And Corporal Frost and her team will have their insertion kits together
within the hour."
Cade smiled and started walking again. "What did I ever do without you,
Master Guns?"
"Last time I checked, sir, you were demoted for a bar fight, ended up an
Aide-de-Camp, got inserted onto a desert planet, and then taken
prisoner." Gideon's passive face imparted no hint of humour. "And that's
just the last two years, sir."
"You forgot the part about almost getting my ass shot off by a firing
squad and the one about almost getting overrun by a horde of emotionally
overcharged females."
"Just didn't figure I needed to bring those parts up, Captain."
Cade chuckled and kept walking. "Keep 'em warm, Master Gunnery Sergeant."
"Aye, aye, sir."
=/\= Door in between Quarters 1245-A and 1245-B - Starbase BoB =/\=
Lynn yawned as she turned around in her bed with the sound of her alarm
blaring on the other side of her bed. Stupid thing. Reaching out with one
practised arm, she hit the snooze button square on its face, and the
alarm went silent. It was a definite improvement over the ways that
existed to silence a computer, and thus she highly preferred an alarm
clock over being woken by a female computer voice which made her think
her mother was berating her for staying in bed too long.
With the blaring of the alarm clock gone, she sighed relieved and
stretched her arms over her head. The shades were still down, so she
wasn't blinded by the stars - or anything else that could possibly be out
there. Stretched properly, she rolled out of bed and padded over to Bob's
cage to feed him a cookie, a grape and fresh water. That would keep him
happy for a while, and it gave her time to take a shower.
She was about to step in the shower, when The lights dimmed around her, and instead of showing an alert which she
was waiting for, it all changed into...Nice Green. With a groan, and
facepalming her hands, she stepped once more out of the shower and glared
at the lights.
This alert was *not* part of the Protocol! She didn't care if Mulder had
ordered her a long time ago to enter it in BoB's Protocol, but it
*wasn't* Protocol to her! She growled and thwapped the light that was now
shining Nice Green and cursed as the light was hot.
Slipping into her uniform, she exited the bathroom with a yawn,
stretching her arms over her head once more. Nice Green Alert wasn't too
bad usually, but still she wasn't surprised to find that she had missed a
message while she was hopping into the shower.
Hitting playback, she frowned at the message. "Mulder to Departmental
Officers. Captain Vaughan, Lieutenants de l'Isle, Mattingly, Omar, Brey,
Maru, Doc Alleir and Ensign Angel - report for emergency briefing,
conference room, fifteen minutes. Yeoman Wilkins, you too. If anyone
wants to know what's up, just look out of any starboard viewport."
'You too', now that was very inviting to make you feel welcome. That's
how it always went. Somebody had to keep tab on the meetings and save the
records of what had been said, so the Captain always remembered at the
last possible moment that she had a Yeoman for that these days. Actually,
she'd had one in quite a long time by now, but she obviously still hadn't
learned.
Starboard viewport. That didn't sound too interesting either. Rubbing the
last sleep out of her eyes, she pulled up one of the shades, and shrugged
at the ordinary view of the planet. Of the planet. Of the...
Alright, so perhaps it was more interesting after all.
"Meet the Neighbours"
=/\= Conference Room - Starbase BoB =/\=
The shades on the windows were drawn right back, so as the officers filed
into the conference room the view of the planet below was large as life.
Noting with appreciation the speed with which they'd all made haste to
attend, Mulder barely waited until they were seated before coming
straight to the point. She avoided looking at anyone directly, because
the combined body language variants along the theme of 'WTF?!?!?' made
her eyes hurt.
"As you can see, we have company. There are two mysteries here - firstly,
where the hell did it come from. Secondly - which you won't know yet - is
that it is inhabited, and has already made contact, and seems to think
that *we* have suddenly appeared from no-where. To save time on
speculating amongst ourselves, I've asked for the planetary
representative to be put straight through here, so we can all see what's
going on."
At that moment, as if on cue, Morrie Bowers voice came through, "The
Regent of Faylinn is ready to speak to you, captain."
"Regent...of Faylinn?" she queried.
"That's his title, and that's what that planet is called, Ma'am," Morrie
sounded proud to have ascertained that.
"Well done, thank you. Put him through."
The main viewing screen in the room flickered into life, and the male
face that appeared started to speak. "Greetings, Starbase Bee Oh Bee."
Mulder, along with every other officer in the room, looked at him with
open curiosity. Regent Sylas, as she presumed, was standing in the
foreground, although in the background were several other figures that
looked like a committee. They were certainly humanoid, having the same
basic height and build and physical specifics, and yet different in a way
she'd never seen before.
Their features were quite regular, with faint but distinct smooth cranial
ridges on their foreheads. Their hair seemed to be uniformly dark and
straight, some cut short, some worn long. Their ears were elongated at
the tips, not quite to a point but certainly with an elvish cast.
It was their skin that set them apart most, though, having a pale green
tinge to it, and as far as she could tell, being quite coarse and thick.
Not properly scaly, she wouldn't have quite said that, but maybe some
vestigial scales here and there.
All in all, though, they were not unpleasing to look at, and their was a
quiet quality about the simple tunic and pants suits that many seemed to
be wearing.
All that she took in for a few seconds, as the beings on the planet were
likewise regarding the room of assorted Starfleet officers. The Regent
began speaking again. "I understand your leader is called Captain
Mulder."
"That's me," Mulder moved to be seen clearly. "And you are?" She wasn't
in the mod for flowery diplomacy.
"Captain Mulder," he gave a little inclination of the head. "I am Regent
Sylas, the leader of the homeworld of Faylinn. Our people are called the
Felim. From the brief conversation with your underling, I gather you are
now aware of us."
"Regent Sylas, if the Felim had indeed been living next door to us at any
point in the last two years, rest assured we would have noticed."
Sylas inclined his head, "I could say exactly the same, Captain Mulder.
But I fear we would be going around in circles. Still, it is a mystery
worth the solving, naturally. We are all curious and a little
apprehensive, as you can imagine."
"We aren't about to blow you out of the sky, Regent, I can assure you."
She said assuringly. *At least, so long as you don't try any funny
business*
"That is good to know. We have been visited in the past by other
interstellar travellers, and mostly all have been peaceful. Though this
is a very remote area of space, so we do not see many people come by. It
is a shame, in a way. Our population is small, but we have ample
resources to offer the visitor. Wonderful tropical beaches, magnificent
mountain ranges, deep valleys and windswept plains..."
Mulder cut off the travel brochure talk. "Maybe you don't advertise
enough?" she murmured. "Regent, we should like to meet with you, of
course, and start trying to work out this puzzle."
"Indeed. You are most welcome to come down and meet with us, Captain. You
will come yourself, of course, as we would prefer to speak with the
*leader* of any peoples that visit us first."
"Sure I will." *Woo-hoo, Away Team duties, first time in nearly five
years* she silently cheered. Aware of a slight movement of reminder from
somewhere in the room she added hastily, "But our protocol dictates I
must not travel alone, so I will be bringing a small party with me."
"As you wish," he assented readily enough.
"Now, this is going to be like a sort of first contact," she mused. "Do
you have any racial customs that we should be aware of? I'd hate to get
off on the wrong foot."
"Not really, Captain, no. We are a very peaceful and easy-going people.
We do have but one request though. It is culturally unacceptable for us
to be scanned with your medical devices. It has happened before, and we
have always felt most unhappy and insulted, it's as if we were insects in
a display, or specimens in a laboratory. I hope you will agree to that.
We have no objection, of course, to your gathering data from all our
flora and fauna - but our own bodies are considered private and
personal."
Mulder tilted her head slightly. One the one hand, she ought to wonder
what they were trying to hide. On the other hand, she could quite see
their point. "Certainly, we shall not intrude upon your privacy. So,
then, if you'd like to send us co-ordinates, we'll arrange to beam down
just as soon as we're prepared."
"Ah, that will not be possible, Captain. Beaming down, I mean. Once you
fully scan our atmospheres, you will notice that there is a high
concentration of magnetic ion particles in the upper stratosphere. You
will need to fly down in shuttles. There may be some mild turbulence, but
it is far preferable to the alternative. Beaming down is not something we
would advise, as the concentration makes molecular re-assembly distinctly
haphazard. It has been tried in the past and the results were
somewhat...unfortunate."
Mulder suppressed a shudder. Although transporter accidents were
practically a thing of the past these days, the horror stories about
being reassembled inside out, or with your feet attached to your
forehead, were enough to give anyone the horrors. "Right. No beaming
down," she concurred.
"When may we expect you, Captain? If all goes well, we should like to
extend the hospitality of the Faylinn homeworld to all your crew."
"Let's...not run before we can walk," Mulder help up a hand. "Please
understand that we shall need to prepare and to make our own scans and
checks to ensure that nothing in your atmospheres, however benign to
yourselves, will be harmful to us. I shall allow twenty four hours for
this, and we shall visit tomorrow, if that is acceptable to you?"
"Most acceptable, Captain," regent Sylas gave another inclination of his
head. "Until tomorrow." The screen faded to black.
As the screen went dead, Mulder turned to her officers. "Right then,
we've got a lot of work to do before we go pay a visit, and not much time
to do it in. I'll be leading the Away team" she was fleetingly glad there
wasn't an XO at the moment to whinge about it being unsafe.
"Lieutenant de l'Isle, prepare two of the sturdiest shuttles. You'll
pilot one and nominate a second pilot. I say sturdy, since their idea of
'mild turbulence' might not be the same as ours."
Looking around the room in general she added, "I know it's a first
contact, but I don't intent to go all rigged up in stuffy Dress Uniform.
Just a clean normal uniform will be sufficient," she made the last remark
more pointedly to Felix, who was looking distinctly dishevelled.
"Since the only problem appears to be with physical scanning, I won't
take a medical officer along - no need to get them leery right at the
start. But I doubt they will object to a science officer. Lieutenant
Brey, you'll be on the Away Team" she turned to Paxan. "You'll gather
information of natural wildlife, creatures and take geo-samples and
suchlike, to see if anything starts filling in the blanks about who they
are and how they got here."
"I believe it's proper procedure to have a Counsellor along for First
Contact, so Lieutenant Maru, you'll be on the Away Team too. They seem
pretty casual about things, but brush up on general protocols, I want to
be fully briefed. The only experience we seem to have had in the past
with new species is "Surrender or we'll blow the station up" - and that's
only the ones that bother to ask first. So, let's try and make this one
pass smoothly."
"Security," she turned to
Lieutenant Mattingly, and
case anything goes wrong.
guarantees they won't try
Baxter. "I want you to stay on the station,
keep an eye on things from up here, just in
We can't trust them yet, so there's no
anything sneaky. Have your men prepared."
Besides which, as Baxter was a happy man about to be married to the love
of his life, if he *did* go down, there was an 80% increase in the
statistical probability that he'd get dragged behind a rock by some
vicious creature and eaten.
She had an idea, "I'll take Specialist Palmice with me." If any creature
tried to pull that with Palmice, he'd probably rip his leg off and beat
it to death with the soggy end. She tapped her commbadge, "Captain Mulder
to Specialist Palmice. You'll be on the away team at 1600 hours tomorrow.
Arrange your duty shifts to cover this. Mulder out."
Knowing that wasn't enough, she added to Vaughan. "You'll be on the away
team also, with two visibly armed marines. I want to convey a sort of
'we-come-in-peace-but-mess-with-us-and-we'll-blow-yours-heads-off' sort
of ambience. I'd also like a reserve force of Marines to stay out of
sight in the shuttles, in case things get sticky."
"That will do for the away team complement tomorrow. If all goes to plan
and there seems to be no danger, I see no reason why we can't arrange R &
R for all the crew and civilians next week, with suitable safeguards."
She'd started pacing now as preparation ideas came thick and fast.
"Lieutenant Omar, I've just realised - if there's anything we need to do
to keep a starbase in safe orbit around a planet, now might be a very
good time to do it. You might want to consult with Lieutenant Sagi, she
may have some experience in that field. Keep all systems running to
maximum performance - we might need it. I want shields up at all times
until we've cleared the planet for visiting."
"Ops - Ensign Angel," she turned to the newest crewmember. "I want to
know everything there is to know about that place. Scan the upper
stratosphere, see what the problem is in more detail, and if there's
anything that can be done in case we need emergency beam-outs. Scan the
whole planet. I want to know the population, the tides, the climate everything. We'll be asking them ourselves, of course - I want to make
sure the answers tally."
She clicked her fingers, "And before I forget, send out a message to all
ships in the area declaring this a no-fly zone until we've established
safety. I don't want anyone triggering any planetary defences by
accident. That's something else you can check, too - any weaponry or
defence systems." Now she thought about it, there didn't seem to be any
orbital installations of any size around the planet, which was a little
odd.
"Also, send a message to all crew, letting them know that R&R might be
happening next week if all goes well. Be sure to warn them though that
there are to be no unauthorised visits beforehand. Especially warn them
about the dangers of transporting, in case anyone tries to be clever. Use
as graphic a warning as you please."
"Actually, Lieutenant Brey, there's work for you, too, before we go down
there. I want you to scan the entire area, check astrometrics data and
analyse for any temporal activity. Make totally, absolutely sure we
haven't moved anywhere, either physically or temporally. I doubt it, but
I want to be sure. At least it will be something we can eliminate in this
mystery."
"Doctor Alleir, there isn't a huge amount for you to do at this early
stage, but something that would be useful is a picture of the physical
specimens we're dealing with. take the computer images and try to
extrapolate a genetic make-up to the best of your ability. Use whatever
base data you have and try to build up a basic picture. It may be we can
eventually persuade them to allow us some routine testing, but for now,
let's go on whatever we can determine."
Finally turning to her Yeoman, she said. "Petty Officer Wilkins, there's
no-one as methodical as you when it comes to records. I would like you to
go through the Federation database with a fine toothcomb. See if there
are any references, any hints anywhere, the the Faylinn homeworld, the
Felim themselves, or indeed anything about appearing or disappearing
planets. Someone, somewhere must have heard of them."
"Right, that's it for now," she nodded to them. "Brief your departments
thoroughly, I want everybody to be completely aware of the situation
here. I'd like all reports on my desk for review by 1400 hours tomorrow.
Upload all information as you determine it so's we can all benefit. Away
Team report to the main shuttlebay at 1530 hours for final briefing. The
only way we're going to get answers is to go down there. "
As they stood and started filing out she finished, "If there's anything
you need to discuss, you know where to find me. Dismissed."
=/\= Bar - USS Caledonia =/\=
A whisky in his hand, his feet on the table, Grey snored through some
padds while reclining on the lowish couch-chair. He had asked for a
selection of possible candidates from the new Quartermaster, and had been
surprised to find his choice awaiting him within three hours. He didn't
ask how, but chose one and donated it quickly.
His comm-badge chirruped. "Rodgers," came a mid-night-shift voice up on
the bridge. "Captain Callum Duqaq is most displeased to disturb you -"
"I'm sure he is, Crewman." McArnh almost laughed. "Patch him through to
my padd, and feel free to fiddle with our incoming comms devices as you
do it."
"Very good, Commander."
The line cut. Grey filed off his work before a familiar face appeared.
"Ah, Captain. I see you haven't been reassigned yet. Come to think of it,
I didn't smell you when I was on Raven."
"Not for your brief spell outside a forcefield, no," came Duqaq's reply.
Callum detested speaking to this man, and the feeling was clearly mutual.
They had each far surpassed the stage of pretending to mask it. "You have
a job to do, perhaps."
McArnh made sure that his whisky glass was pictured in the frame of the
transmission. "You tell me, Captain. Do I or don't I?"
Callum's look was weary. "You do."
"Most excellent. Pray tell, I'll rally the troops."
"It will be within your range of mission capabilities." Callum deigned to
continue. "The freighter Zanzibar's crew was forced to evacuate after a
recent malfunction in the Kajas system. Unfortunately, their pods were
under-standard. All hands were lost. Our scans are complete and the
Federation, in this instance, seizes the property."
"What would Intel like this time? An unknown device? Perhaps a crossdimensional incursion," Grey suggested, with mirth.
"Commander, I am not informing you all of this because I am bored, or
because I can't find the JAG or Ops heads to do it for me. It is because
you are next in the line after the final Intelligence check. I ask you
nothing more than to do your job."
"Oh, and I will, Captain," Grey remarked. "It is always such a pleasure
winding you up, I'm afraid I can't resist. By the way, are you anything
to do with these supplies we're not getting?"
"No."
"I was wondering about the fact, you see, that we are in an obvious state
of disrepair at a very well-stocked Starbase, and yet we have only three
repair teams assigned. Just crossed my mind."
Duqaq fumed, most of all for letting himself get drawn into this
unprofessional banter. There was, unfortunately, something a little
enjoyable about it, like picking at a scab or taking of a particularly
well-glued plaster, that left him with a satisfying feeling of resentment
for the rest of the day.
"I have no doubt that appropriate resources were allocated. Perhaps you
could take your complaint to the Commodore."
"I hear there are sniper teams trained on the Caledonia's airlock at
night-time now. I shalln't risk it. Unless you'd like to ferry her over?"
Duqaq snorted. "Good evening, Commander."
"Go and have a drink, you old fart," Grey said to the freshly-departed
image on the screen, and necked the rest of his measure.
=/\= Flight Deck - Starbase BoB =/\=
"Just a clean normal uniform," Felix repeated to himself, muttering in a
desolate echo Mulder's words as he rifled through the BoBCat spare
uniform closet, in the few seconds he had before trying to find (and
repair) two shuttles that were (apparently) sturdy.
The BoBCat uniforms had been made to order, and although he'd had a
duplicate of everything kept on a replicator file, both of his had
suffered a few evening's brawls. There was not time to take them to a
Lower Promenade fixing shop before, so he ended up donning the nearest
best fit, changing behind a locker door and challenging, without looking,
anyone to try and sneak a peek.
He marched back out into the bay after a confusing fight with his
bootlaces. "Meeting," he gurgled loudly at the deck, before coughing and
hacking his way to the coffee machine. Normally, someone might have
patted him on the back to clear the phlegm. Nobody did.
The BoBCats arrived in a dispassionate fashion, none of them fixing a
coffee. They waited for Felix to right himself. The clothing had been
changed, that was certain, but he still looked - or seemed - a mess.
"This planet. Down there," he explained, pointing at the still-open bay
doors. "We're going down to it. Two shuttles. I'll take the Boris
Johnson, Splenda will fly the Starfish."
"How long do we have?" Takarth asked, in a monotone that was now de
rigeur. She wasn't happy not to be flying, either, but she was too tired
today to argue.
"Twelve hours. Then we'll run flight tests, taking them up to the
Shuttlebay. Takarth, cross-check the flight paths for the next twentyfour hours, and beyond. Dexter, Charlie. When you're done with repairs,
you're going to prep the Shuttlebay for the launches. We haven't made any
from there for a while - clear the worst of the crap out of the way."
The duo nodded glumly. Felix glared up at the group and continued reading
from his hastily-created padd of notes.
"We'll be running three-hour alternate shifts. I suggest in your breaks
you get some rest, as maintenance on the shuttles is going to be hard
work. Splenda, get onto the cosmetics, have them prepared for 0800
tomorrow. I'll be in charge of the repair team. Dexter, Charlie, you're
with me. Takarth, repair sheet for the Starfish, urgent stuff only. Let's
go."
Takarth marched off to her shuttle, angry-footed. There was something
about Felix's sense of priorities that had change, and made her regard
her boss with something akin to contempt. She pulled the bonnet off the
Starfish harder than was necessary.
When was he going to change back? She mused over this huffily as she
tugged at some wires, analysed a few explosions and then ducked in to
find the auto-diagnostic monitor. She couldn't hear the exact words but
could see the near-violent exchanges with Dexter and Charlie, who nodded
and went about their business, out of obligation and fear respectively.
Her eyes fell to Lester, whose sad eyes looked past an under-cleaned mop
of ear-hair. He needed trimming, and could probably use a good meal, too,
rather than the late-night curry house rubbish he was chucked at three in
the morning.
Takarth gave him an equally pressured gaze back, and felt a moment of
understanding for the poor animal. Felix treated him worse than he
treated his staff, which at present was worse than ever. Unrelated
incidents and accidental crimes weren't laughed or joked about any more,
but rather pounced on and unduly reprimanded.
Her uniform felt tight on her. She needed a drink. She wished, bitterly,
that nothing had ever changed.
She was interrupted by a clapping noise. It was Felix. He was mouthing at
her in a plaintiff and professionally wounded sort of way. It seemed like
he was saying "get on with it."
Takarth nodded hastily and settled back into her console-tapping. After a
split second she couldn't help but look up again to check. He was still
staring at her. There was an instant where she felt all of these changes
the most and where she felt intimidated.
Her head crashed downward into forced concentration and she bit back
something from one of her eyes.
=/\= Counsellor Dharma's Office - Starbase BoB =/\=
"I can't just see it now. You'd make an interesting Mrs.Jones." Arihana
frowned, shuffling the padds. Why he had wandered on overhere was beyond
her. Did he have nothing better than to follow her around? The counsellor
had this horrible feeling that he wasn't giving up, that he had some sort
of agenda. "That's how it all started, way back when. A fresh faced
schoolboy, who got corrupted." She had no idea what he was on about. Or
did she?
The counsellor looked as Dhillon fiddled with the statuette that rested
the other side of the comm.console. Apparently, he had a hypothesis too.
"You see, in being one nil down, Arihana, there is all to play for," the
statuette rested with a gentle thud onto the desk. "I make it sound like
a competition, but it's not about the winning. It's about taking part,
isn't it?" The counsellor wrinkled up her nose, checking what
appointments she had today. "You here for a reason, Dhillon? Told you I
got work to do, sling it." Dhillon shook his head, to take a seat.
"Should send out a warning to the school or something. Now that you're
footloose and fancy free, mothers should be locking up their sons."
Arihana looked away from the console, to look at Dhillon.
Dhillon arched a brow. She hadn't, surely not, oh my- "You didn't? You
did."
The score. What was the bleeding score?
Dhillon sat back in the seat, crossing his arms; Arihana had that smirk
on his face. The counsellor had a fairly light schedule; she could doss
for the day, and get away with it. Why should it bother him, the first
thing he had done after Arihana had cut him loose was...so what if she
was doing the same as him? Dhillon could feel the resentment bubbling up
inside. Arihana was still smiling as she wrote the report."Well, you
leaving? I do have stuff do. Reports, assessments..." Na na na na na.
Notches, notes, same thing wasn't it?
Dhillon exhaled, as he stood up to leave. He hadn't thought twice on his
part, he had though Arihana would. "I was joking, about the notches."
Arihana waved ta-ra, causing Dhillon to tut as he left. Dhillon left her
to it, kicking the doors as they closed. It was like sharing your toys,
having to share something that was yours and yours alone. He had
genuinely meant it as a joke; there was nothing in it. The thought,
thought of somebody else, someone else...Arihana, of all people. Dhillon
stepped into the turbo lift, to go play with Gerty. He clenched his fists
in his pockets, still the blood rushed around his head. You know when you
were little, and you'd have a book, and inside you write something like
this book belonged to whomever?
Man, it hurt, it would have happened eventually.
That page that read this book belongs to Dhillon.
It had been torn out and screwed up.
++The drama that unfolded after Arihana prised herself away from her
work, the night the planet arrived-would also explain the spring in her
step. ++
She'd have to get up soon. Arihana looked at the watch through the
brunette tresses. Six. Her side of the bed was warm. So was the other
side.
Wiggling a foot, she was mortified. Leg. Leg. Toe.
Uh oh.
Pulling up the sheet, she looked down towards the pillow.
No.
Arihana slowly slithered out, so as to not disturb whoever it was. She
couldn't remember.
Bloody hell.
Her mind was nothing but a maelstrom of confusion. She remembered leaving
her office. Coming here. But nothing in between.
Tying the robe around her, Arihana hunched up her shoulders. As whoever
it was, worked a caress down her neck.
"I suggest you leave."
There were sounds of disgruntlement, as Arihana released herself from the
gangly arms and legs.
"Now."
Slapping away the straying hands, that felt like scratchy, and clawy on
her skin.
"Get out."
Still there was discontent. Arihana watched the figure pad with speed to
the door. Arihana cursed loudly, sitting on the end of the bed, there
were some stripey pyjamas around here some place. There was one word that
came to mind after all that.
Stabilisers.
=/\= Throughout the Message System of Starbase BoB =/\=
[Shortly after the planet appeared this message was broadcast throughout
the station, sent to each and every inbox on the ODN line...]
URGENT MESSAGE FROM STARBASE OPERATIONS DESK
As most of you have noticed, there's a planet just outside our station.
The command structure of Starbase BoB is currently conducting an
investigation and taking steps towards First Contact. This is a very
delicate time right now, so in an effort to avoid any problems the
following restrictions are being placed into effect as per the order of
Captain Mulder...
Until further notice, this Station and the space surrounding it for a one
light-year radius has been declared a no-fly zone. This warning is being
broadcasted right now across all frequencies. All ships currently docked
with the station have been clamped down and will stay that way unless
released by order of the Captain.
Before you all start whining about this, understand that it's for your
safety. We have no idea if these people have surface based weapons or
other defenses that might blow you out of the sky. We also have no idea
what type of people they are, so the planet is off limits until it can be
cleared as safe. Captain Mulder has instructed me to inform you all that
the potential for R&R visits does exist, but only once the planet has
been deemed safe. Until then, no unauthorized visits.
And before anyone gets any bright ideas about beaming down, we have been
warned that there is a high concentration of magnetic ion particles in
the upper stratosphere. This makes beaming to and from the planet an
unpleasant experience, especially for the people that have to clean up
the puddle of goo that used to be a living being. And if you think I'm
being overly dramatic...
[The message abruptly stops here, replaced with a video image of a
transporter room that is just cycling through a re-materialization
sequence. The pad glows, there's a shower of sparks, and a big pile of
lumpy greasy flesh comes into being on the floor of the chamber. It
begins to scream and flail about. More screaming and the sound of
retching can be heard in the distance. Eventually the lump of flesh stops
screaming, and moving as well. It just lies there, smoking a little and
oozing gray-brown fluids. The sound of retching continues...]
You see that? That could be you. See this bit here, the grey lumpy bit
attached to the end of this reddish fleshy bit? That's this poor guy's
brain. It's attached to what used to be his arm...
Don't beam down to the planet. Got it?
These measures are only temporary until we can establish who these people
are and how they got here. Until then, your cooperation is appreciated.
MESSAGE ENDS
=/\= Counsellor Dharma's Office - Starbase BoB =/\=
Arihana waited. Waited for Dhillon to leave, before reaching over to the
templer knight and tossing it towards the door. Damn thing bounced off
the doors and onto the floor. The poor knight was decapitated. Arihana
groaned to walk over and pick it up. It was now in two distinct pieces,
jagged edges where the marble had fractured. Walking back over to her
desk, she dropped the broken marble statutette onto the desktop. The
counsellor caught sight of the planet, spinning along on its axis.
Arihana went over to the viewing port, to take in the view. How something
could change over a matter of hours.
The counsellor watched the swirling, candyfloss clouds. Absorbed in the
atmosphere of the orbiting mass. Pondering what it was like. This brave
new world that had turned up. How do planets just turn, turn up with out
so much as 'phone call to see if they can pop. How terribly inconvenient.
Arihana was angry, amongst other things. They were both as bad as each
other. His rebound had probably been immediate, whereas she had waited.
She didn't want to know the details of Dhillon's dalliance, and of her
own, the details were best left buried in the dark recesses of never
again. He had been mistaken. It wasn't so much Mrs.Jones, as
Mrs.Robinson, she hadn't wanted to correct him. Wasn't Dhillons' fault he
was so uncultured. Dhillon was getting his Marvin Gaye mixed up with his
Dustin Hoffman.
Off the top of her head, she had two psychological reports to write up.
An assessment to score and interpret. There was also that extracurricular theory of aggression and violent conduct to look at; her
office was still littered with texts.
Arihana watched the movement of the globe. There was something soothing
about being able to daydream. Just letting your mind wonder, to stretch
its metaphorical legs. Wonder who lived there, was it inhabited? At least
it improved the view. There was only so much octopus ink coloured sky a
girl could take. It was pretty in its own little way. No doubt it was
being dealt with.
Mrs.Robinson. It did make her feel slightly uneasy. She couldn't remember
what had happened. Maybe it was that good, and as for the...well,
stabilisers. Well, we all got to start someplace. She smiled, still
absorbed. Gave a whole new meaning to whether the earth had moved-it
hadn't. Focusing on a longtailed anticyclone of fluffy cloud that had
caught her attention. No doubt it would come to her, who he was, where
she had found him, was he a schoolboy, or some random? Arihana frowned,
as she sat behind her desk, trying to remember.
Arihana picked up a text, still thinking as she flicked through the
pages. She attempted to read the words, make sense of them. It was so
much the finding some random green behind the gills chap in her bed that
worried her. It was the fact that she couldn't remember getting him there
in the first place. There were blackspots, in her cerebral cortex, she
knew that. Came from the anxiolytic abuse. But such a glaring one in her
memory?
Arihana slammed shut the book, resting it on her lap. How could you blank
that out? How? It was probably best not two dwell on it, but to carry on.
Dhillon had, carried on.
The counsellor shook her head, thinking of all the stuff she had to write
up. Putting the text to one side, she did just that. Work.
=/\= Supplies Office - Starbase Raven =/\=
"How many, you say?"
The half-Ferengi requisition clerk's eyes shifted between his padd, whose
figures he could not quite understand, and Commander McArnh. The numbers
did not quite add up, as though the Commander had decided to fiddle his
books - and yet, he couldn't see anyone voluntarily ordering that much
of, well, that.
"Forty-eight crates," McArnh repeated. "There was an ordering error made
by my Yeoman. Very enthusiastic, but alas misguided in her sense of
stock. And marriage."
"Forty-eight crates of slug pellets." The clerk shook his head. "And what
am I meant to do with them?"
"I'm sure Raven will be able to pass them off much more easily than I
can. We have seen many strange animals and aliens invading the Caledonia,
but fortunately, not the Terran-born slug. They are not, generally,
indigenous to the Steamrunner-class starship."
The clerk drummed his fingers. "And what do you need in return?"
"These."
There was a moment's silence as the clerk digested the contents of
another padd.
"You are hoping to trade twenty-seven boxes of slug pellets for a new
warp coil phase variator."
"Yes," Grey said.
"And another six for a replacement transporter unit node."
"Yep."
"And -"
"I know what I wrote, and I do realise it is slightly unusual. Yet, by
the same token, I have a ship that doesn't work and a severe lack of
slugs. I do not believe the pellets will be useful to our border patrol
duties."
The bolbous head gave him a kind of patronising but understanding nod. "I
will beam them over, and the majority of your ship's fund will be
recredited." The clerk, obviously, did not understand that the
Caledonia's expenses packet had not been examined for several decades,
although many had been institutionalised trying. "The rest...I'll see
what I can do."
"Excellent. I'll have them brought over."
That was that, Grey thought, dusting his hands off as he headed for the
lift. It whooshed him up to the right deck in decent time, and he took a
breath of clean air before heading onto the Caledonia, where there was a
curious smell of electronic carnage.
He tapped his comm. "Commander McArnh to all Caledonia crew. We will be
departing for a new assignment at midday tomorrow. Please return to the
vessel and prepare to leave Raven. You will have a short amount of time
this evening to finish up any business."
Translation: if they could be let back on to go drinking, they might as
well take advantage of it. McArnh had a funny feeling that they would.
"You will find a couple of systems updated, so double-check them within
your departments. Any last-minute stocks that we can secure would be of a
great asset, too. The mission will be one of scavenging and shouldn't
involve any large alien forces -" he touched something wooden on his way
past -"but have your underwear cleaned, just in case. McArnh out."
How odd, Grey thought. He was sure he'd meant to go to his office - his
*actual* office - but he'd ended up at the bar. One of the holowaiters
flicked into life as he came in.
"Irish Coffee, Commander?" it asked him.
McArnh was deeply fond of holographic technology when it didn't involve
Gertrude and when it remembered his standard drinks orders. "Please," he
said to it, assuming his seat. One in the afternoon, he mused. Twentythree hours before they'd set off again. At least this time, it would be
simple.
Or so it seemed...
=/\= Infirmary - Starbase BoB =/\=
Shinandra wasn't sure if she should be happy or fussy over not being on
the Away Team.
On the one hand, it could be fun and interesting. It would definitely
change things up and be nice for some real air for a change. Not to be
mistaken, she enjoyed Base life, but could be an interesting change of
pace. On the other hand...there were too many potential problems, maybe
she should be grateful to avoid them. Everything went south more often
than not, she thought.
So, it was time to get to work. Sitting at her desk in her office, she
had her legs curled up. The chair was just big enough to make this a
comfortable position as she leaned her chin against her hand, one elbow
on her desk.
In the time since she left the Briefing, she had gotten the record of the
communication with the Felim. While it was being transmitted, she had
taken a moment to think out this mass hallucination theory. She resolved
to perhaps test the air just to be sure, but had pretty much ruled it out
when the computer loaded the images. Hallucinations did not get *this*
extensive.
Then began the painstaking process of breaking it up in to some of the
best pictures. This took a little while, but soon she had four images
that provided the best view of the leader in the foreground and some of
his people in the back ground. She resolved to go through them one by
one, manipulating the image to get the most information out of it.
Taking the first image and pulling it up, she had the computer enhance it
part by part. She focused on the leader's image. For BoB, the computer
did a good job of enhancing it and giving her some information just from
observation.
Shinandra had a classic physician's eye and a good memory for biological
studies, so she was able to glean something from the first round of
images. They appeared to be basic humanoids and comparable to humans watching the footage over in real time again, enhanced, gave her some
fair hint that they breathed. Scans of the planet would prove just *what*
they breathed, but it was a start. Otherwise, they had the same general
'out line' appearance of a humanoid species.
It wasn't much, but it was a start.
Rubbing her eyes, she continued with the work. The next part was taking
each image, part by part, and comparing the four of them all together everything she saw so far matched up with what she already found. She
noticed something odd when she got to the hands. The nails, which were
thick and looked sharp, were fearful, but it was the rest of it...they
were almost claws. She would have thought they were, but something struck
a chord in her memory. She made a mental note to look further on that some database research.
"Almost like lizards," she commented as she focused in on the face,
noting the skin: thick, green. She couldn't tell much else just from an
image, but they all looked like it. She could compare it to some of those
in the fore front. (She would spend more time on them later.) Some looked
almost scaly...She grimaced. "Maybe they did," she was talking to
herself.
Marking off in her head, she had created a check list of things to follow
up on with some research. Looking up at the Chronometer, she determined
that her eyes needed a break from squinting for a while first.
=/\= Two Hours Later - Infirmary - Starbase BoB =/\=
"Arthritis?"
"Arthritis."
"Arthritis..."
"Arthritis!"
"Do you really think so?" Shinandra asked as she stared at the images on
her computer with Sandra looking over her shoulder.
The two women were both in Nandra's office
the search results of her research. It had
hands and this was what had shown up. They
years ago and an ailment that had long ago
for people.
and had been looking through
started with the study of the
were from a couple hundred
been pushed out of commonality
Sandra shrugged, "Looks pretty similar," she replied, tilting her head in
the other direction.
Alleir certainly couldn't disagree with appearances, and since
appearances were all that she had to go on, then there was little to
disagree with - the way that the hands were curled, the particular way,
made it definitely look just like bad cases of arthritis from the
twentieth. "All right, thanks, Sandra," she told her.
The nurse smiled and headed back out as Shinandra turned to a padd and
started taking down notes and marking what pictures made for a good
comparison.
That was one thing done on her to do list, but she was back on her
research kick. The next part was as much research as conjecture. Dipping
back in to her studies on evolution and a little time line to be played
around with in her computer, she guessed that even if these Felim people
*had* evolved from something lizard like, their skin should have a
smoother appearance by this point - because the rest of them had
obviously evolved past the lizard point...though that was make quite an
evolutionary assumption about them.
Shinandra didn't quite know what to think and she didn't have enough
information to make any serious conclusions and she wasn't really trying
to at that point. She had been told to gather information, so that's what
she was doing. Conclusions could, and hopefully would, come later.
Taking as purely a researcher role as possible, she wrote up this next
line of thought on the padd with the other items she'd discovered:
humanoids who breathe, arthritis like shape of their hands, now their
skin and the evolutionary supposition. If she knew more about the planet
and what its medical facilities were like, she might be able to explain
the hands. Perhaps it was something like arthritis and they didn't have
the technology...
"Ugh," she muttered around a yawn and looking away from the computer.
Already she'd spent a lot of time scrutinizing the images on the screen,
although there had been some breaks to take care of patients. At least it
got her eyes off the screen for a while, she was getting tired of staring
at pictures of these creatures all ready.
It would help if she could get to the planet with the Away Team and get
more information...then again, they wouldn't allow her to scan
them...That would be troublesome, although she might be able to find the
state of their medical abilities and that could help...But, she wasn't
sure she actually wanted to be on the Away Team, but if things checked
out all right, she'd get her chance.
She started to write up the rest of the report, putting her various notes
in to more coherent form for Captain Mulder, before turning back once
again to the screen and staring at the same pictures from many different
angles.
=/\= Mol's Office - USS Caledonia =/\=
"Why are you here?" Mol asked, walking into her office to find Pitt
reclining in her chair, feet up on the desktop.
"Can't get enough of your sparkling personality."
"Go irritate Commander Davidson."
Ken waved a hand airily, "Skye's busy. Chased me away hours ago."
"And you had nowhere else to go?"
"Thought you could use the company."
"Well, you thought wrong. I have work to do."
"C'mon Mol. You need to relax."
"Last time I relaxed with you I spent time in the brig. I'm not
interested."
Pitt gave her a grin, "You know what your problem is?"
She looked back at him with a raised eyebrow, "I'm sure you're going to
enlighten me."
"You're too stuffy."
"Fine, if that's your assessment, then why do you hang around? And get
out of my chair," she said pushing his feet off the desk and shooing him
like one would an annoying cat.
"Because I've made it my job to lighten you up."
"Well, guess what...you're fired. Now go so I can get some actual work
done today."
"Actually, I did have a question."
"Oh, so now we come to your real purpose of being here. What do you
need?"
"Is there any way I can grab a ride back to BoB on the Caly?"
"What about your ship."
"Well, if we're both heading the same direction..."
"In other words you're lazy."
"Some people might describe it that way."
"You're hopeless. And no, you can't come with us. Because we're not going
straight to BoB I believe."
"Well, then, forget I asked."
"Don't worry, I will," Kita turned her attention away from him and
settled in to work. A few minutes later she looked back up. "You're still
here."
"I'm going, I'm going."
Mol shook her head at his retreating back and wondered briefly what he'd
really wanted.
=/\= Fleet Training Admin - Earth =/\=
"Erm...I'm supposed to report for training?"
The clerk behind the desk looked up and found himself face to face with
Zim. He'd seen many people come and go for training, and prided himself
on knowning whether someone would pass or not. This funny looking fella'
had dropout written all over his orange face.
"Name, rank?"
"Zim, LtJG." replied Zim with some trepidation. He had no idea why he was
here. He'd just been told to report to Earth for training. No reason why
had been given. Zim had a feeling he might be getting reassigned...off
the Caledonia!
"Ah yes. You're here for re-specialisation training. You will be taking
basic and emergency medicine, with clinical management."
Zim scowled, "Why? Where am I being sent to?"
"Oh...just back to the USS Caledonia."
"...what?"
"Once you complete your training you will be returning as a clinical
manager."
Zim closed his eyes, and sighed. After a moment he finally replied, "So
you're telling me I've just spent weeks travelling back to Earth on the
smelliest transport I've ever experienced, to train in something I have
no interest in, only to return back to the exact same place."
"Er...yes."
"So I've not escaped the Caledonia? No one from starfleet has felt the
need to put me back on normal duty because of my good work."
"Er...no."
"Just a moment please..." Zim turned away and walked to the nearest wall.
After a few minutes of banging his head against it and quietly weeping he
returned to the clerk.
Zim looked over his shoulder to check they were alone, and lowered his
voice. "If I was to...accidentally deposit some federation credits into
your account, do you think it likely that there might be some
administrative error that meant I was considered already qualified for
this course? Hmmm?"
"What?"
"Well if you were to receive some unexpected credits, maybe in the
excitement you might strike me off that training list and send me back?"
hissed Zim.
"Pardon?"
Zim growled. "I'm willing to pay you to fake my course result. You say
I've passed and send me home, and I give you money. Okay?"
"Oh I can't take money off you." said the clerk with a sadistic smile.
"Well what can you take?"
"This..." The clerk stood up, reached across and plucked off the dull
metal pip on Zim's collar. "All bribery attempts are to meet with
demotion. Standing orders."
Zim gaped for a moment before his brain kicked into gear. "What if you
recieved some latinum, would that make you forget the standing orders?"
"I wouldn't try it mister, or I'll take the other pip too."
"Spoil sport." grumbled Zim.
"Your traing starts tomorrow. 0700 sharp. Have fun!"
Zim left quickly. Grumbling and fiddling with his collar. After the shock
of the demotion wore off, Zim realised with a start that he would
actually rather be on the Caledonia than here.
=/\= Healthcare 101 - Training Centre, F7 - Earth =/\=
"Who can tell me the best way to deal with a deep flesh wound to the leg,
near the femoral artery?"
In the stuffy classroom several hands shot up. Zim's hand wasn't one of
them however. Just because he'd been forced into doing this training by
starfleet didn't mean he had to like it. It certainly didn't mean he had
to take part in class discussions. He had enough of being sniggered at by
the younger trainee's and cadets. He felt like the kid in class who kept
getting held back because he couldn't manage his shoelaces or be trusted
alone with the glue.
The instructor, a weedy looking human with, in Zim's opinion, one of the
most thin, reedy annoying voices he'd ever heard, focused on Zim.
"Mister Zim?"
"Yes?"
"You're proposed treament?"
Zim scowled at the man. He loved picking on Zim. Even though there were
other people who wanted to answer he was homing in on Zim. Trying to
catch him out. He had a feeling the clerk had mentioned the bribery to
him.
"For the leg wound?" he stalled.
The instructor nodded. "Yes..."
"Amputation."
"WHAT?!"
"Amputation, the act of removing a whole limb." reeled off Zim.
"For a flesh wound Mister Zim? A flesh wound! Do you not think thats a
trifle excessive?"
Zim shrugged, "Well the flesh wound wouldn't be a problem anymore."
The classroom erupted with laughter, and for once it was with Zim rather
than at him.
"This is NOT a laughing matter!" whined the instructor, shutting up the
trainee's. "Mister Zim with an attitude like that you will not go far in
healthcare."
"That would be a pity." replied Zim dryly.
=/\= A Few Weeks Later =/\=
The instructor walked along the rows of desks, placing down marked
papers.
"These are the last lot of exams you took. They should give you an
indication of what you will be capable of in the final exam. Some of you
will be pleased, some of you will be shocked."
He stopped as he got to Zim's desk. "Mister Zim...your mark was rather a
suprise. Previously I thought you would have struggled to actually write
you name in the correct box. I was tempted to talk to the dean and ask if
I could give you bonus points for managing. But it seems there was no
need..." He placed the paper on Zim's desk. "73%...I see that you aren't
actually stupid. Merely lazy."
Zim gave a snaggle toothed grin as he read through his paper. Maybe he
would manage to pass this cursed course and get to duty after all.
Although he was disapointed to see his answer of amputation was still
marked as wrong.
=/\= Clinical Management 101 - Training Centre, F7 - Earth =/\=
After months of pouring over documents and training manuals Zim had
finally passed the basic and emergency medicine course. He hadn't got a
brilliant mark but it was a pass. His plans to copy off the other
students had been foiled by the staff putting him in a room of his own
for the examination. It got him out of the horrible class, got him closer
to getting re-assigned to full starfleet duty again and...more
importantly for any future potential patients, made Zim realise that
amputation isn't always an option.
The second part of his course looked to be much easier for him. Zim was
never going to be a doctor, but a clinical manager he
could...well...manage. He could organise and sort, buy and stock and
pretend to know what he was doing with the best of them. This part of the
course was going to be a breeze. It would be easy on the bank balance
too. He wouldn't beed to buy answers off anyone in this class.
"Who would recieve prefential treatment in your clinic or medical
facillity. A sick officer, or a sick civillian?" The instructor, like the
last, paced up and down infront of the class. Unlike the last one though
he seemed to be able to tolerate Zim's presence.
One of the cadet's shot a hand in the air. "The civillian sir.!"
"And why?"
"Because the fleet lives to serve and protect the civillian population."
Zim snorted with laughter. The instructor turned to him and frowned. "I
take it you disagree with the answer?"
With a grin Zim nodded, "Its all very noble, putting the civvies first.
And it looks great in guidelines and course texts, but its not the real
reason why it's done."
"Would you care to tell us all why?"
The rest of the class pricked up their ears. Waiting for Zim to make a
fool of himself.
"Well, if an officer or member of the fleet dies while waiting for
treatment, nothing really happens. Danger is our game and all that.
However if a civillian dies then we can be hit by a lawsuit, or in the
case of non-member civvies worse. Medical staff could be hung out to dry
in order to appease some diplomats of Planet Backwater."
The cadet spoke up, "Thats a very cynical view Ferengi. Why are you even
in starfleet with an attitude like that?" Some of the other trainee's
nodded and murmured to each other.
Zim bared his teeth, "Because when I served in the Ferengi Navy I was
discharged for killing a man who happened to disagree with me, hew-man.
So here I am instead."
"Settle down!" cried the instructor. "Mister Zim, you are completely, and
utterly correct."
There was a stunned silence amoungst the trainee's whilst Zim nodded.
"As clinical managers we are not employed to run things, not care about
people. By all means pretend if you wish but when you get sacked for not
meeting quota's that bullcrap about serving and protecting won't put food
on your table."
Zim folded his arms and sat in smug silence. This clinical management
stuff might not be so bad after all.
=/\= Chapel of Rest - Starbase BoB =/\=
"ORDER! ORDER" Clive Casket, the new and self-appointed Chairman of the
Promenade Traders Guild tapped the side of a casket. "Meeting will come
to order."
Since the astonishing discovery of a planet below them earlier that
morning, and the subsequent drop off in trade as everyone seemed more
interested in staring out of the viewports and theorising and speculating
over drinks in the various bars and coffee houses, Mister Casket had
taken the opportunity to call a meeting to rally the traders and maximise
potential profits.
With the further news emerging that the planet was not only inhabited,
but there was the likelihood of shore leave once it had been deemed safe
by the station CO, the excitement was reaching new levels.
The only venue large enough, and available, at short notice was Clive's
own premises of the Chapel of Rest, which fortunately did not have any
breathing-challenged residents at that moment.
"Ladies, gentlemen and sentients of other or dual gender," he began. "I
propose we brainstorm ideas for keeping our profit levels maximised.
There will doubtless be much trade going on down there, and we would like
to keep as much of it up *here* as possible. So, we need to tailor our
current services to meet the current needs."
"Sell 'em what they think they need," Ferengi Joe from the Fun Emporium
put in."
"Quite," Clive gave a ponderous need. "Would you like to start us off?"
"Suntan lotion," the Ferengi promptly declared. "If they buy it down
there it'll be overpriced with a foreign label and only give half the SPF
it shows. I have supplies that are cheap-ish and will do a proper job. I
know people can get an anti-UVA shot on demand these days, but there's
something comforting about actually rubbing suntan lotion in. Gives a
sense of the traditional holiday." There was a murmur of agreement around
the chapel.
"And sunhats," he continued. "I know people don't usually wear them for
more than a day or two, but there's nothing like a big straw sun hat to
get you in the holiday mood. Sunglasses too. I have a new range, as it
happens, and will put those out on display. If I can get some good
holopics I'll create holocards and other souvenirs."
"Thank you," Clive moved on, "Mrs Comfort?"
"Picnic baskets," the large lady of the lunches declared promptly. "Ready
made picnic baskets, both from a choice of set menus and to to order.
Nice food and properly packed for any climate."
A hand shot up from the De'aths Bakery representative. "Mrs C and I have
been discussing this, actually. She'll handle the upper end of the market
with complete picnic baskets, and we'll handle the snack end. After all,
you can't always rely on foreign food and they might have stuff down
there that isn't compatible with our digestive systems." He clearly
*hoped* this was the case. "So we'll be handling sandwiches, snacks and
soft drinks, all packed in a sand-proof container."
"Excellent," Clive acknowledged. "As for my own business I, ah, have
compiled a special Holiday Fatality Offer. Doubtless there might be a few
small, ah, accidents due to over-enthusiastic deep sea swimming or rock
climbing, and my new offer will arrange for planetary collection, any
necessary re-assembly or cosmetic touches plus the standard onward
transmission to the homeworld of stated choice."
One of the Trill twins put his hand up at that point and received a nod
to speak, "Intransit is working with Mister Casket on a Mortality
Transport Franchise, and we will be handling the actual casket transport.
Also, we are offering special deals for crew who have purchased large
souvenirs or gifts from the Faylinn planet, to send to family and loved
ones at any point in the quadrant. Discounted rates for Starfleet to
Starfleet senders and recipients."
"Most satisfactory," Clive nodded. "Ah, yes, Miss Comfort?"
Shazza Comfort, still looking a little wan from her recent accident, was
waving her hand about. "I'm gonna have a word with Marjane, from the
Boutique. Some of the girls are already wanting new bikinis and I reckon
if she's got any stocks of Hawaiian shirts and bathing trunks and stuff,
she'll probably sell out."
"Good idea, Miss Comfort, thank you," Clive nodded.
"Insurance!" the rather sweaty man from the seedy insurance company spoke
up. "We are pleased to announce a new Holiday Insurance Deal to cover all
instances of shuttles being delayed, lost or stolen personal effects, and
curtailment due to illness. Whilst we cannot cover for the event of the
shuttles breaking down, loss due to carelessness, or recall because of
duty, we are confident that our package will give the discerning
holidaymaker peace of mind."
"Hm, indeed," Clive didn't look so sure, but hastened on.
Miss Celeste Starr of the Heavenly Bodies Beauty Salon announced she
would be doing start-tans on her sunbeds and offering a range of beauty
treatments such an manicures, pedicures and bikini waxing (at which
almost everyone winced) for a complete Beach Babe look. She said she
rather thought that Fraulein Bruisilla van der Totenschmerz from
'Restricted Hair Space' would be offering similar treatments, including
hairstyling, but with the probable demand there was no clash of interests
as they would probably both be extremely busy with clients.
"God, very good," Clive murmured. "I must send a note to Mister Hicks of
Prologue to see if he would be interested in compiling a Beach Reading
display in his shop, should he have suitable tomes to offer."
"I'll be doing magazines," Ferengi Joe put in, "So between us we'll have
the reading market covered. And I must ask my next door neighbours in the
pet shop if they'd like to do an inoculation programme for those wishing
to take pets below, if it is allowed. Or bring pets back *in*," he added
more dubiously.
"MmmHmmm..." Clive nodded, "Now, Miss Sybil, how about you?"
The Sayl'reth manageress of Blooming Lovely gave a little hiss and a
smile. "Will not be ssselling much, probably trade will be slow, but plan
to go down to Faylinn if possible and buy in new ssstock. Flowers,
plants, shrubs, herbs, much new to plant and develop in Arboretum. Very
exciting prosspect."
"Ah, yes, a good angle. Future trade, indeed," Clive beamed his approval.
"I have not, ah, had change to speak to the young ladies who run Pisces
delights..." in fact, he had deliberately not invited them as he felt
that floozies had no place in the Promenade Traders Guild. "But I suspect
they will be enterprising enough to arrange their own offers. I have not
had the opportunity to invite Mister Gamble either," he had simply not
ventured into the Bail Bondsman's business as there were always
undesirable ruffians being dragged in and he didn't think it was entirely
savoury. "But, I am sure he will take care of any felonious business that
occurs..." he finished vaguely.
"Washing! Dirty clothes!" the old crone from the Real Sudz Laundry
cackled. "Going to offer nice laundry deals to get all the sand out their
clothes and uniforms. Horrible stuff, sand. Gets everywhere."
"Holiday holovids to get 'em in the mood," someone from Selection 31, the
holovid rental shop spoke up. "Lots of trashy holiday romance videos and
travel vids."
The various other traders all added in their ideas, and it was nearly an
hour later that Mister casket called the meeting to close, declared no
other business, and the traders bustled off, in happy anticipation of the
planet becoming a little gold-mine for their entrepaneurial efforts.
=/\= Runabout Enroute to Starbase Raven =/\=
The pilot sat in stony silence. Only moving occasionally to make slight
course corrections. Everyone he made was done in an attempt to get to the
starbase as quickly as possible. There wasn't an urgent mission for him
to do, or even time critical supplies to deliver. He just wanted to get
there and out of the way of the annoying little Ferengi he was with.
"Come on...I'm sorry. How about we play double or quits? You could win it
all back. All it takes is a bit of luck." said Zim with a satisfied
smile.
"No thank you. I'll quit while I'm...I'll just quit."
"But how will you ever make that money back? Hmmm?" needled Zim as he
shuffled his cards.
To pass the time Zim and the pilot had been playing a few card games.
After a few hours of playing with no stakes the pilot had suggested some
betting. He'd been winning before and had seen no reason why that
wouldn't continue. They'd started small, and the pilot had won a few
strips of latinum, a few credits. So he upped it somemore. Why not try
and take the Ferengi for everything he had? It'd make some story.
But that was then Zim had struck, in true con-artist style. In one hand
of Fizzbin, and another of Go Johnny Go Go Go Go!, Zim had managed to win
all his loses back and take the pilot for everything he had on him. The
perfect sting in Zim's opinion. The pilot, obviously a little sore over
the matter, had decided to call it a day.
"I'd never win it back anyway. You've probably got the pack marked or
something." he muttered.
Zim pretended to be shocked, "Sir...you insult me. I would never cheat at
a game of cards." Tipping the odds in his favour though and a bit of card
counting he felt were fine though.
"Just shut up!"
A few minutes of silence passed.
"Are we there yet?"
A vein near the pilot's temple began to throb.
=/\= Starbase Raven =/\=
Once the shuttle had entered the base the pilot had muttered something
about being late for an appointment and had ran off. Zim was tempted to
rush about as well. He had been told the Caledonia was leaving soon, so
he needed to get there quick.
Catching the eye of a friendly, fresh shaven and bright eyed security
officer he asked for directions. "'Scuse me, how do I get to the USS
Caledonia?" The friendly look was lost as the officer narrowed his eyes
at the Ferengi. "Why do you want to know?" "Because I'm supposed to
report for duty there." snapped Zim a little impatiently. "Duty? You
can't be part of their crew? I've not seen you in the brig recently." Zim
let that rather baffling comment pass, "Do you know the way or not?"
After the suspicious officer had pointed him in the direction Zim
sprinted off as fast as his little legs would carry him. He was soon at
the airlock, and into the Caly herself. The moment he stepped over the
threshold he stopped and sniffed. Decay, neglect and the slightly stale
aroma of fried onions. Yes, he was back home on the Caly.
For a moment he was caught in two minds. Should he report to McArnh or to
sickbay? After a few moments Zim decided neither. He'd go to his quaters
and have a nap. After checking on the hooch still of course.
=/\= Regina's Quarters - USS Caledonia =/\=
Miserably, Regina peeled off her whisky sodden, crushed and trampled
wedding dress and stuffed it viciously into a shoe box. That
accomplished, she sat on the lid, lashed the box tight with a shoe lace,
and placed it in the centre of her room. She stood on her bed, wincing
and swaying precariously. Her head was complaining with every slight
undulation of her upper body, but Regina was determined.
But wait - she was not quite high enough. Carefully, clenching her
stomach against potential expulsions, Regina piled a number of padds on
top of her duvet and climbed onto them.
She sprang from the newly acquired height. Her stiletto heels shot
straight through the shoe box and punched identical bullet holes into it.
Unfortunately, Regina's ankle twisted on impact.
"EEEEeeeeee-ooooooohhhhh-OW!" she shrieked. She kicked the shoe box into
a spotless corner with her good ankle and cradled the other. "Unfair..."
she moaned. A first aid kit, quite possibly the only functioning one on
the ship, was extracted from a hand bag. She bound the offending (and
violently throbbing) ankle and stood experimentally. Then fell over again
instantly.
"Outrageous behaviour," muttered Regina to herself as she crawled into
the shower, and strained upwards to release a stream of lukewarm water.
This, she supposed, was reasonable success for the Caledonia. Then the
water went scalding. "EEEE!" Regina wailed. She crawled out again and
waited for it to cool. It turned to subzero. "Bbbbrrrrrr," shivered
Regina. Eventually she managed to secure a semi-standard temperature for
around about three minutes, barely long enough to soak her hair.
"Gah," she announced crossly. Dripping and cold, she dressed in an
immaculately ironed uniform, cursing as she did so at the thought of
resuming duty. She could have spent some more time on Raven, but the
brief spell in the Brig and the monstrous headache that had pursued it in
quick succession had given her a hatred of the place. Besides, she had
work to do.
The corridors of the Caledonia seemed oddly quiet, as they had been
before she'd left. She snuck stealthily across the Bridge, ascertaining
whether McArnh was in his office. Fortunately he was not. Sheydra was
snugly curled up on his desk. Regina hoped she would shed lots of fur.
She clambered through the hole into her own office. It was in an
appalling state. What with the wedding - Regina's mouth set grimly she'd barely had time to start the clear up necessitated by the kids'
occupation. But for once, cleaning was not the first thing on Regina's
mind.
She eased into her office chair, removing several padds and some sticky
humbugs from it before hand. In a single sweep she knocked everything
from her desk surface, then raised her bad ankle and rested it. She
picked up the phone and waited patiently for an answer.
"Hello, is that Londres and Lorcas? Yes, could you put me through to Mr
Lorcas please? Tell him it's Ms Monkfish...yes, I'm glad you remember me.
How many times is it now? Well, this will be the fifth...yes, if you
could put me straight through."
Regina felt a certain pride that the secretary of her usual lawyer
remembered her so well.
"Hello, Mr Lorcas. Yes, it's Regina. Monkfish-McArnh. For now. How are
you...? Good...Why, I am - well, to be truthful, I could be better Mr
Lorcas. I have just been through a highly traumatic experience. A
catastrophic wedding. I require an immediate divorce. Yes, I will want to
sue...if you could get the papers to me as soon as possible...oh, and
could we involve a rather unusual stipulation, this time...? I would
like, as part of my compensation, to demand my husband's entire whisky
supply... Yes, I know that is unusual...No, it isn't for me, you know I
don't drink..."
Regina twiddled the phone cord around her ring finger. She was prepared
to be here for some time. "Allow me to fill you in on the details, Mr
Lorcas..."
=/\= Infirmary - Starbase BoB =/\=
Shinandra finally decided that she had gotten as much information as she
was going to get from what she had here. So, she finished up her report
and was going over it one more time - just to be sure that everything was
in order. Pictures were included for the comparison of the arthritis
thing and then the theories about the evolutionary aspects...(She added
that she didn't believe it was all mass hallucination, though that wasn't
yet ruled out completely.)
It was during one of this 'one last time' looks at the pictures involved
that something caught her eye - it was on magnification and
enhancement...
"How did I miss that before?" she asked herself.
She paused and rubbed her eyes, making sure that it wasn't just strain
from staring at all of these other pictures, and then looked at it again
and found that it was still there.
"Huh..."
She had the magnification redone and then enhanced again and looked it
over and indeed, it was still there. It was hard to make out clearly, but
unless her eyes were deceiving her - and she would confess that it was a
possibility - there in the background was a Felim without the tell tale
scaliness of the skin...smooth skin.
Tilting her head, she considered this a little longer. "How odd," she
thought, then added silently, 'If I'm seeing right.'
Still, it could not be ignored. She wrote it out in to the report to the
Captain that she might want to keep her eyes open for something along
those lines - it would probably be fairly obvious, if it were true. All
of the others had this look about it, the green, thick, scaly
appearance...all except this one, she thought.
"I think I need a longer break this time," she told herself and then
noted on the report that there might be a mistake with this observation,
as the picture was unclear, but it was worth mentioning.
That being done, she sent off the report and left her office. She needed
a change of scenery.
=/\= Chief Counselor's Office - Starbase BoB =/\=
Llara watched as the bulky, slow-moving automaton approached. Hissing and
stomping, the fearsome bulk of metal and blinking lights closed on her
position.
Llara yawned.
One beefy, metal-clad arm of the beast whipped up and tossed back the
blast shield on the pressure suit's helmet. A smiling blue face was
revealed beneath the inner visor. A clicking noise announced the external
speaker's activation.
"How do I look?" Parvis' metallic voice scraped its way out of the suit's
external speaker.
"Like a fool." Llara smiled.
"What?" Parvis' static-filled voice shouted.
"Like a fool!" Llara shouted back at him.
Both arms came up and scratched for the locking ring around the neck. A
hiss of escaping body odor accompanied the release of the helmet. The fat
little fingers of his suit's gauntlets quickly fumbled it, letting the
dome clatter to the deck. Harold's tall follicles sprang back to life
instantly as he was released from confinement.
"I'm not taking any chances. Riding with the BoBcats isn't considered a
healthy lifestyle. Neither is drinking with them, or letting them select
your wardrobe, but it is the riding I'm mostly concerned about right
now."
"And you think the Captain and the others will approve of such extreme
prophylactic measures for the mission?" Llara sneered.
"I don't much care what they say. It wasn't easy getting a suit my size
out of stores, I'm taking it. You have no idea the layers of dust I had
to go through to get at it. Besides, they haven't yet offered me any
assurances the planet is even remotely safe."
"I'm sure it is harmless."
"Anyone that can pootle up under the station unannounced and unobserved
is definitely not harmless. And when they pull it off with an entire
planet, it goes double!" Parvis winced at the weight of the armored,
extreme-environments-rated pressure suit.
"Just why is it they're taking you along for this trip, anyway?" Llara
booted a chair, scooting it over towards Parvis.
"I'm supposed to evaluate the natives. Figure out if they're dangerous.
How best to deal with them, that sort of thing. And since we don't have a
doctor along, perhaps help Paxan figure out if they're going to rip off
their slightly-lizardish exterior and reveal their inner, true-lizardy
forms before consuming us. You know, diplomatic support."
Parvis moved to sit down. The aged, metallic joints on the suit creaked
loudly. They were then joined by the crashing noise of the suit's weight
crushing the chair to the deck, depositing Parvis on his heavily-armored
ass.
Struggling like an overturned turtle on the floor on his office, he
managed to turn himself to face Llara again. The now prone, helpless
counselor smiled.
"Of course, given my current state of distress, perhaps I can get out of
this. Miss Dharma could certainly take my place down there, yes?"
Llara walked over and gave his suit a gentle boot, causing him to spin
round on the deck very slowly.
"I know one simple phrase that will help motivate you to go down there."
"Oh, really?" Parvis' arms waved frantically, trying to slow his spin
before he became sick. "And what would that be? What could possibly make
me want to leave this relative safety, and I use that word loosely when
it comes to BoB, for the unknown dangers of the planet below?"
"Mitsuko is no longer in custody." Llara turned and left the office
swiftly.
"What? What's that you say? You're lying! She couldn't! She must not!"
Parvis managed to halt his spin. He resumed profuse sweating for an
entirely different reason.
=/\= Science Lab - Starbase BoB =/\=
Paxan Brey stared down at the scans of the mysterious planets surface.
Her blue/brown eyes danced across the sparking globe that was rotating
beneath the bedraggled station. The last two years of her life had been
spent completely onboard the station and to have the small opportunity to
be on real land seemed unreal. Paxan inhaled and thought about how much
fun it would be the sour through the atmosphere.
Before the away team could meet the planet's surface, work had to be done
first.
Pomgorian Crengarium walked up behind the young woman and smirked, "You
want to orbital skydive...don't you?"
Paxan nodded with a grin, "Maybe I'll get the chance," she said before
standing up and turning towards Pogo, "Have you seen the diagnostic
results from the scans yet?"
The Hermat nodded, "Not yet, what did it say?"
"Basically, that we definitely have not moved," she said, "As far as BoB
is concerned, we're still in the same place as we've always been."
Pogo sighed and furrowed hish brow, "You're positive?"
The young scientist ran a hand through her hair, "Yep...I've also run a
magnetron scan on the surrounding hyper string vibrations. There is no
evidence of temporal disturbances either."
"That's good to hear!" Pogo beamed happily but then frown, "So...what
does that mean exactly?"
"It means that we're in the same time as we always have. The station has
not gone forward or backward in the space time continuum," Paxan said
with a small chuckle.
"Whew. That's a relief," sighed the Hermat, "So...everything is normal
and yet there is a rogue planet that's appeared out of nowhere."
Brey nodded and bit her lower lip, "Well, to say everything is 'normal'
would be an overstatement. I did find some anomalous readings in the
upper atmosphere of Faylinn, though."
The science assistant's eyes widened with worry, "What do you mean
anomalous?"
Paxan shrugged and looked down at her computer console, "That's just
it...I have no idea. There seem to be some kind of unidentifiable
readings floating around the upper atmosphere that we cannot identify."
"Unidentifiable?" asked Pogo, "Not even with the federation database. How
is that possible?"
Looking slightly frustrated, Paxan Brey frowned, "I have no idea. It's
very rare to not be able to identify something in the main database. From
what I can tell, though...it's nothing dangerous. Just damned annoying."
"So, what now?" Pogo enquired as s/he looked into the computer console.
Turning towards her assistant, Paxan brightened, "Well, I now...I'm going
to prepare for an away team mission," she said with a happy smile,
"Captain Mulder has asked me to accompany her and few others to meet the
leaders on Faylinn."
Pogo looked jealous.
"And while I'm gone, I'm going to need to you hold down the fort up
here," she said with a look that was nearly pleading for the Hermat not
to be mad.
Sighing heavily, the young assistant forced a smile, "Whatever you say,
boss."
=/\= Security - Main Office - Starbase BoB =/\=
"Attention important security personnel. Meet at once at Mattingly's
office for a briefing. If you don't arrive, expect to spend the rest of
your days in the brig reading Nancy Drew books."
That was the announcement that had gone out. Baxter Mattingly was now in
his office, somewhat unusual at this particular time of day. This was his
chance to test the abilities of his security crew. He was going to step
back slightly and see what they were made of. He might even follow along
in disguise, but for the most part, he wanted them to make decisions. He
wanted to know who was at his back.
Vega and Palmice were expected shortly. Baxter had efficiently rounded up
volumes of information about the planet (almost nothing) and all
communications, including a fascinating video of the destruction of a
body (edited for the squeamish). There were photos of the menace and
plans for several emergencies which had nothing to do with the mission at
all.
Baxter's voice could be heard over the intercom again. "Well hurry up!"
came over Vega's and Palmice's personal communication equipment.
Baxter sat back, put his feet on his desk and waited.
=/\= Abode - Starbase BoB =/\=
Pausing to brush some crumbs off the PADD he was studying, Parvis
accidentally knocked it to the floor. He bent over, with some difficulty,
to retrieve it.
"What are you doing?" Raoul Wainscoting appeared suddenly.
Thump! "Ow!" Parvis came back up, the back of his head having met the
underside of the table.
"I asked, what are you doing? This is more food than you should be able
to eat in a week!" Raoul waved at the half-demolished banquet spread out
before them.
Parvis emitted a sarcastic laugh, and more than a few bits of food. "The
condemned man's last meal, I'll have you know."
"Condemned?" Raoul slid easily into the opposite chair of the booth at
the back of Abode. "What is it this time?"
"That planet." Parvis stuffed another handful of chips into his mouth.
"I'm going down there. Away team. Certain doom, you know. I mean, we'll
have some expendable marines, but once they go, the little guy gets it.
Trust me, my short tour on the USS Dauntless taught me one sure fact:
away team is the shortest, most brutish path one's Starfleet career can
take."
Raoul glanced away, taking a moment to survey a young lady and offer her
a lavacious wink. Turning back to Parvis, he observed the little
Counselor stuffing his face with ice cream. "What is it about this planet
that has you so worried?"
"There is something wrong with it, I just know it." Parvis stuck his
tongue out to reach for a dribble of chocolate sauce on his chin.
"Such as?"
"We don't know yet, that's why we're going down there. But things that
are perfectly normal and harmless and safe just don't go around showing
up at BoB. Therefore, it is dangerous. Thus, the last meal."
"We showed up at BoB, didn't we?" Raoul smiled.
"And would you say that we're entirely normal and harmless?" Parvis had
been informed of Raoul's latest installation-related madness. A furtive
trip to the highly-unsanitary Pisces Delight had earlier secured for him
a cache of prints of the infamous portraits. For future reference, Parvis
told himself.
"Well, not entirely." Raoul blew a kiss at his intended across the room.
She swooned.
"I'm telling you, giant spheres in careful orbit of faraway stars don't
just up and go walkies. Whatever malevolent intelligence drove it over
here has it in for me. I'm sure of it." Parvis hunkered down behind his
PADD, attempting to resume his study.
"What is that you're reading?" Raoul tugged on the PADD.
"Protocols. First Contact procedures and all." Parvis tugged back.
"Swoop in, seduce their women and get into a few shirt-ripping brawls?
Can I be of assistance in tutoring you?" Raoul grinned.
"You've been watching too many of those early Starfleet documentaries on
the History Holonet, haven't you? We can't all be like that scandalous
Captain Kirk, drinking our way through flocks of horny alien vixens while
beating their leaders senseless with double-fisted hammer throws. But
we'll have along that Marine fellow, Vaughn, I understand that is his
specialty." Parvis shuddered in anticipation before waving for the waiter
again.
"We'll be greeting the natives, introducing the idea of Starfleet and the
Federation, one big happy family. You know. Without saying as much out
loud, make sure they understand there is likely a fleet of large, angry,
planet-bombarding ships out there backing us up, so they'd better be nice
to us."
"I see. And your purpose in going along?" Raoul didn't see the threat
being reinforced by his presence.
"I'm supposed to evaluate them. Decipher their intent and disposition.
Are they a threat? What horrible secrets are they hiding? Generally help
the Captain figure out whether we should make friends with them, or call
for the bombardment. You know."
"So, we're doomed to war, then?" Raoul smirked.
"An unpleasant death, at least." Parvis dove into a fresh dish of ice
cream.
=/\= Pigs in Space - Starbase BoB =/\=
Paxan Brey sat down in a chair at a corner table and looked across
towards Yus Omar. The setting of meeting in this particular eatery seemed
a little apropos considering that this was the place they first met along
with Felix and Baxter. That initial meal had been a difficult one, thanks
to the men acting like animals but since then, Paxan had come to be very
fond of BoB's chief engineer and her chocoholic fiancé, even if she
rarely had a chance to express it.
Yus studied the young woman in front of her. She looked somewhat under
the weather. "Pax, are you alright?" she asked in concern.
The young scientist smiled with a nod, "I'm doing, fine for the most
part," she lied. In truth she was feeling terrible about not only
forgetting her responsibilities to Yus and being so "Emma-Finnish" lately
but also the way she was seemingly disconnected from Felix. She of course
didn't want to burden the bride with her problems and so, acted like
nothing was wrong, "I want to thank you for meeting me and I want to
apologize again for being absent lately. This place has been keeping
busy, you know?"
There was a short silence. Yus hesitated, not wanting to be intrusive. It
was evident from her lack of eye contact and distracted replies that
Paxan was not as okay as she claimed. "You're still available for the
wedding, aren't you?"
She smiled, "Well, I didn't want to presume that you still wanted me to
be your chief bridesmaid."
Yus smiled back warmly. "Of course I still do. What made you think
otherwise?"
The sentiments made her feel good and it was comforting to know that not
all her relationships were going down the tubes, "It's not important.
It'll be my honor to stand with you and Baxter on your special day," she
said a bit emotionally, "How're you doing anyway. Any pre-wedding
jitters?"
"I've probably maxed my quota for cold feet. Changed my mind 50 times
since Baxter and I were together. If I try to pull a runaway bride stunt,
please feel free to have me bound and gagged before the altar."
"I doubt it will get to that. Anyway, I brought something to help you
plan," she said with a grin and pulling out a three-inch thick planner
from under the table, "I've been doing some research on everything that
we need to do before the big day."
"No kidding," Yus exclaimed. "It seems everyone is more informed and
prepared than I am!"
"This is basically the handbook on wedding planning," she intoned while
opening the heavy book eagerly, "There's a lot to do...have you
registered yet?"
"No, I haven't. I thought this was something done sometime during the
wedding or after."
Paxan waved her hand dismissively, "Well, I'm sure some cultures do it
that way, but if you register beforehand, then you get more presents at
the wedding!" said the young woman excitedly, "Oh, that reminds me...I
need to schedule some time to find something to wear."
Paxan jotted down the reminder in her extensive planner.
"We'll need to get you a matching gown, since you're Chief Bridesmaid."
"Ooh! That's right!" she exclaimed, "That shouldn't be too difficult
then. What about you...have you picked out your dress?"
"Actually I have," Omar admitted excitedly. "I found it in Tie the Knot
and I'll show it to you later. But it's only the dress. I still have
other things to pick up. Ornaments and stuff."
She nodded, "Well, I think that boutique on the Promenade might have some
things you might like," she said while furiously writing in the planner,
"We should schedule a time to check it out."
Omar nodded gratefully. "Thank you."
Brey smiled and looked at Omar, "Don't mention it, I'm happy to help,"
she said, "And maybe one day you can return the favor and help me with my
wedding." The tone of Paxan's voice turned a little pessimistic, "If by
some miracle I actually ever get to that point."
Omar sighed. She felt a little guilty for being happy when her good
friend was down. "I'm sure you'll find happiness, Paxy," she consoled.
"But there are always hurdles along the way."
"Hurdles?" she said with a glance at her planner, "I hope it's only
that."
"What *is* the problem, exactly - if you don't mind me asking?" Yus
probed.
Paxan looked up at Omar and shrugged. She really didn't want to bring the
bride to be down with her problems but it was evidently clear that Paxan
wasn't doing a good job in keeping up appearances. And besides, if anyone
would understand her troubles, it was Yus Omar. "It's me and Felix.
Things haven't been very good lately. He's been acting so strangely and
he won't talk to me about it."
"I hadn't noticed any change in him," Yus admitted. "I haven't seen him
in a while - I've been so busy."
"So have I," admitted Paxan with a brush of her fingertips through her
hair, "But, that has never stopped us before. We've always been busy but
we've managed to stay connected. Now, it's all different...and it's
becoming more and more evident that something is wrong. I just don't know
how to fix it."
Yus felt helpless. "You know, I wish I could do something to fix it," she
exclaimed as she frustratedly ruffled her hair.
She shrugged, "I appreciate the concern. Believe me, just having a friend
to talk to is help enough."
"You can talk to me anytime, Paxan," Yus replied sincerely. "I just wish
I'd been there for you before."
"Don't worry about a thing, okay?" she said while a touch of practiced
confidence, "We'll work things out. Right now, what we need to focus on
now is you. This is your special day and you don't need to be worrying
about me and Felix."
"I won't," Yus lied. "He's going to be the best man for Baxter. Is that
okay with you?"
Paxan waved her hand, "No, no...not at all," she stated as if there
weren't worry in the world. Yus had enough stress to deal with, "I
promise, everything will go off without a hitch...including me and Felix.
Let's switch gears now and talk bachelorette party?"
"Okay," Omar relented. "On the list, we need to get a...entertainer."
She tapped the stylus in her hand against her chin, "Okay, an
entertainer," she said thoughtfully, "Any kind in particular?" Paxan had
her own ideas but wanted to see what Yus had in mind before suggesting a
male stripper.
"You know the type that sheds clothing in stages...?" Omar hinted, not
wanting to say it out loud.
"Ah yes!" she beamed happily, "A male stripper...an excellent idea!"
Yus Omar laughed. "Yes, but it's not entirely my idea. I thought every
female on base should have one heck of a party. And male too, if the
rumours about Baxter's stag night are true."
"The
have
need
wait
boys are used to reveling in debauchery and that is why *we* will
more fun," announced Paxan as she began jotting notes again, "We
to only invite a select group of ladies, though. I'm in no mood to
in line for a lap dance," she said honestly.
"Here's the preferred list," Yus offered it to Paxan.
Paxan scanned it quickly, "Wilkins, Mulder, Vega." she said as she looked
through the list, "Dharma, Allier. I think this looks pretty good to me."
"There are more, of course." Yus said.
"Now, the most important part. Who are we going to get to be our
stripper?"
"Actually, that's what I meant by preferred list," Yus turned the page
over to reveal the list of strippers who she would not mind seeing in the
barest. "Raoul tops it."
Paxan blinked, "Him?" she replied, "He's a bit eccentric...isn't he?"
"Bizarrely."
Taking a moment to make a mental image of Raoul, Paxan thought it over,
"Well...he does have a nice chest...and his bum isn't half bad either."
"I knew you could be persuaded." Yus grinned.
She smiled sincerely. Paxan was not one who could be accused of being
prudish. Anyone who had seen her act for the station talent show some
months back could attest to that. "Alright, I'm sold."
"Let's go talk to him now," Yus urged, "I've heard unconfirmed rumours
that he's in The Abode."
=/\= Abode - Starbase BoB =/\=
"Does it hurt much?"
"Not terribly. But there are occasional twinges. I find a vigorous
massage early in the day helps to work it out." Raoul said, smiling at
his buxom blonde companion. He stretched his arm out, gingerly testing
the elbow for movement. His lean, taut muscles played beneath the tanned
skin.
"My fall from grace. The things I do for love!" Raoul threw his uninjured
arm to his forehead. The other was only gently damaged, a bump sustained
when Llara had freed him from his suspension.
"Oh, you poor baby!" His companion snuggled closer to him in their booth
at the back of the bar.
Yus sauntered in with Paxan, intently discussing something when she
noticed the preferred choice on their list unabashedly practising his
skills on a certain female companion. Her eye settled on him for a moment
and returned to meet Paxan's eye.
"What's this?" Raoul perked up, observing the entrance of the officers.
He smiled. "Watch this for a moment, will you?" The artist set down his
glass and gracefully rose. He quickly glided over towards the pair.
"Mr. Wainscoting," Yus greeted smoothly. "I hope we weren't interrupting
anything," she added, meaningfully sarcastic.
"Ladies," he said, eyebrows dancing, as he leaned in.
Paxan smiled slightly but crossed her arms none-the-less. "Hello Mr.
Wainscoting, Yusrina and I were hoping for a moment of your time." The
young scientist was obviously amused and appeared to be undressing the
artist with her eyes. It sure had been a long time since she'd seen a
half naked man, she sighed inwardly.
Raoul dismissed the thought of his other companion from his mind. "I'm
all yours, ladies."
"We have a proposition which may or may not interest you," Omar began,
hoping to reel in the bait.
"Oh? Please. Do tell." Raoul's mind was swimming. Did they wish to be
models for his work? To purchase his work?
Smiling with an arch of her eyebrow, Paxan stepped closer, "As you may or
may not know, Mr. Wainscoting.my friend here is going to be getting
married soon. And as a soon to-be-married woman, she deserves one last
night of fun," said Paxan with a quick wink at Yus, "And we ladies are
needing a little entertainment.like a male dancer."
"Oh, ho!" Raoul smiled broadly as he heard their offer. "Fine ladies such
as yourselves, a little Raoul for entertainment. An excellent plan!"
Raoul paced back and forth. "A dancer, eh? What shall it be..."
Brey grinned, "Something fun?" she said quickly, "Fun for us to watch
and, you know, interact with."
"I have it!" Raoul stopped, and slowly moved his arms in a wide arc
around him. With great drama and angst on his face, he cleared room for
his performance. "I witnessed this particular piece reenacted by a
historical dance troupe recently."
Imagined music began to thump in Raoul's head. His leather-clad hips
began to sway and gyrate in time with it. He stared deeply into Yus'
eyes, before moving on to offer Paxan some eye-lovin'.
A twinge of worry crept into Yus as she watched the deranged apparition
in front of her twist and turn to no music at all. She wondered if he was
right for the job. Perhaps his artistic abilities were limited to
portraits and sculptures.
Raoul's arms began to move. Up, down, around, they swung in rhythmic
unison, drawing a curious pattern. His sensuous hips continued their
hypnotic gyrations. After a short piece, he called out.
"Heeeeeeey, Macarena!" Raoul shouted and spun to one side, facing another
part of the room, while continuing his spasmoidic actions.
Paxan Brey's face dropped as she watched the horrible convulsion that
Raoul Wainscoting was undergoing. "Um.perhaps not," she said.
"You look like you're in desperate pain," Yus commented casually to
Raoul, feigning detached disinterest. Privately, she was undergoing her
own convulsion of trying not to laugh, cry, sputter and cough at the same
time.
"Well, I think we were hoping for something a bit more alluring?"
"I would think so," Yus replied, catching Paxan's eye.
They young woman laughed, "Oh come now, Raoul," she said playfully, "I
think you know what I mean. We all saw the kind of art you did of us
ladies. You get the picture?"
Raoul scowled at their scoffing. Throwing back his arms, he tore open his
shirt. "Perhaps, something else, indeed." His right leg began to gyrate
beneath him.
Paxan put the stylus she'd been using to write in her planner to her
mouth and observed Raoul's movements. There was something strangely
appealing to the slithering of his hips. "Interesting," she mused with
bemusement.
Raoul leapt in close to Yus, dragging one foot behind, slowly. He leaned
in, his head close to hers. "Iiiiiiiiif you want my body," he breathed
near her ear.
Yus could not be sure, but had a niggling suspicion that her body
temperature was soaring a little too high for comfort. For some reason,
her uniform collar seemed to be sticking to her neck. She however,
remained still, only her eyes tailing the gyrating artist.
He quickly switched ears, and continued on her other side. "Aaaaaand you
think I'm sexy," he breathed into her ear, raising more than a few
goosebumps. He then spun around and projected his shiny, leather-clad
backside at her face. "Come on sugar, let me know!" he shouted, as his
hips began to gyrate before her.
Biting her lip gently, Paxan couldn't help but notice the dark hair on
Raoul's chest. She suddenly wondered if the air conditioning had broken
in her brother's bar or if perhaps her uniform was fitted to tightly
around the collar. She also thought of Felix and just how damn much she
missed his naked body.
Arms waving, hips gyrating profanely, Raoul was into the zone. He quickly
spun around and began to nearly grind Paxan with his leather-cladness.
"If you really need me, just reach out and touch me, come on honey tell
me so!"
Two other women at a nearby table fainted, collateral damage from the
explosion of manly heat.
"Now, imagine all that, while I'm wearing the uniform of a security
officer," Raoul panted as he wound down the display. "The very tight
uniform of a security officer."
Paxan looked over at Yus while fanning her reddening face, "I don't know
about you, but I think we found ourselves a dancer."
Yus loosened that collar. Just a wee bit. "I think he could probably fit
the bill," she agreed reservedly.
"Just so you know, I may be easy, but I'm not cheap. I await your final
offer for my, artistic services." Raoul turned and strode back to his
table. The promise of many women was swirling in his mind.
Damn, Yus thought. I'm gonna have to come up with some credits. She
resolved to have another private session with the artist and somehow
persuade him to do it for free. Otherwise, there was some hard-earned
latinum that was going to be exchanging hands.
=/\= Starbase Raven =/\=
"Chief! Wait up!"
"Yooo-hooo...hey Chief!"
"Huh?" Jinti turned to see her two co-pilots haring along the Promenade
towards her, skidding to a stop. "You're freeeee!" Jadi Z'El grabbed her
arm
"Great to see you, Chief," Markus Richards beamed. "Saves us the trouble
of baking a cake."
"A cake?"
"With a file in it."
"Reading matter?"
"No, a tool file."
"Bud, b'lieve me, the state o'my nails were the *last* o'my worries,"
Jinti looked at them as if they were mad.
"No, Chief, it's an old earth gag. When they used to have metal bars on
prisons, friends used to smuggle prisoners in a cake, and they'd baked a
metal file inside it, so's the prisoner could file through the bars and
escape," Jadi said comfortably, tucking her arms through Jinti's.
Jinti looked hopelessly confused, as she could thing of a hundred things
wrong with that particular scenario. But they meant well, and it was good
to be free, so she just smiled and nodded.
"So, Chief, what are you planning to do with your last few hours of
freedom?" Richards fell into step the other side of her.
"Last few hours? Did they schedule executions fer dawn then?"
"Nooo, we've got orders to get back to the ship, going to set sail this
evening." Jadi assured her.
"Well, I reckon I'll probably jist...catch up on some sleep," if Jinti
seemed a little out of spirits, they put it down to her recent
incarceration.
"You sure, boss? Hey, they didn't treat you bad in there, did they?"
Richards gave her a quick look.
"Nah, jist tired," she said casually.
"Want to go for a bite to eat?" Jadi tugged at
We've been hanging around outside the Brig for
let us in to see you, the lousy jobsworths. We
for a scoff when you got out. You know, proper
crap?"
her arm. "We're starving.
hours, but they wouldn't
were planning to take you
food after all that brig
About to turn then down flat, Jinti was suddenly struck by their warm,
genuine attitude and gave a slow smile. "You know whut, guys? A damn good
scoff would be jist dandy right now. Yeah. Not that I wanna stay around
here any longer than I gotta but yeah, lead on. Ya got anywhere in mind?"
=/\= =/\= =/\=
The table in the window at "Phatty Starbuckles Burger & Beefsteak
Blowout" was littered with wrappers and cartons and crusts and remains of
a truly gut-busting feast.
"I'm...going...to...pop..." Jadi groaned.
Jinti could only breathe gently and slowly, for fear of exploding
likewise. "Thass gotta be the biggest burger in the galaxy. Ya could put
it into orbit and declare it M-Class. Crap, there's populations of
displaced Ocampa that could set up home on one of those burgers."
"I think that beefsteak is expanding expotentially inside me," Richards
was still attempting to stuff a few fries into his mouth.
There were siumultaneous rattling sounds as Jinti and Jadi sucked the
last drops of soda from the covered plastic cups and chinked the ice at
the bottom.
"We gotta go," Jadi sighed.
They halved the bill, not allowing Jinti to pay anything, and supporting
each other, walked slowly back to the ship, laughing and groaning at
their own total piggishness.
"Home sweet home," Richards announced, as they stepped through the
docking ring.
"Yeah, " Jinti took an ostentatious sniff in the air, then frowned.
"Wassup, Chief?"
"Weird. Fer a minnit there, I thought I smelt...Ferengi."
"That's hallucination due to burger excess, that it," Richards nodded
wisely.
"Reckon it is, guys. Yeah, I reckon it is."
=/\= Starbase BoB Calling Gamma Command =/\=
There was one thing that Mulder had been putting off that she knew she
had to deal with. And that was telling Gamma Command about the strange
new world that had appeared. After the various bizarre occurrences during
the past few years, she hesitated to have to report yet another piece of
insanity.
Nevertheless she commed through to a Yeoman, and after introductions
said, "I need to speak to Admiral St Clare urgently, please. Don't worry
- there's nothing wrong. Well, not yet at least. It's just something very
strange has happened and she needs to know about it."
Gen was just getting ready to end her shift and go home for the day, when
her Yeoman informed her that there was an incoming communication from
BoB. Uncharacteristically, Geneva swore out loud and then answered the
call. "Put her through," she said tiredly and sat back down, trying to
put on a smile. "What can I do for you, Captain?" she asked.
"Good Day to you, Admiral," Mulder was still wondering how to phrase
things. "Um, I don't suppose anyone has reported a missing planet
recently have they? Like, anyone calling in saying they've lost a planet
in their system or something?"
St Clare would have been surprised to have that question asked, were it
anyone else asking. "No, not that I've seen," she replied blandly.
"Oh, Shame. See that's the thing. We've just found one. A planet, I mean.
Right next door to BoB. It just sort of appeared overnight and we're all
a bit puzzled..."
"A planet?"
"A real live genuine planet."
"As in...a planet...it just appeared beneath your base?" Gen repeated,
now surprised.
"Yes. We woke up this morning - and there it was. Big and round and
*there*. Puzzled us all like mad. I did wonder too if maybe Gamma Fleet
had parked it out our way and forgotten to tell us or something, but
clearly not." Mulder gave a baffled shrug. "And since I'm talking to you
and you're talking to me, then it's true that we haven't moved anywhere
or slipped into a different dimension or anything, so I guess...seeing is
believing."
The Admiral nodded slowly. "I see...and what steps have been taken thus
far? Do you have any information on it?"
"Ah, well, here's the thing Admiral. As it happens, the place is
inhabited, and the natives have already made contact and invited us to
pop down there and see them. Now here's another really odd thing..."
"What, the random planet suddenly appearing beneath you wasn't the weird
part?" Gen asked dryly, but moved on before that statement could be
replied to, "Please, enlighten me."
"*They* think that it's *us* that just appeared from no-where. It sounds
crazy but that's what they think. Still, have a look for yourself, I
thought you might like to see the evidence - maybe you'd recognise them,
because we've never heard of them before. The planet is called Faylinn,
and the race are called the Felim, for what it's worth..."
Mulder gave a command and the computer split-screened, leaving her image
in the top corner whilst the full recording of Regent Sylas's
introduction played for the Admiral's benefit.
Geneva's mood as she watched could only be described as puzzled silence,
but she kept it mostly to herself. When the reply finished, she took a
breath and let it out slowly before responding. "I fear that I do not
have any information to give you, Captain."
"Oh, that's a pity. I was hoping that maybe they were on record
somewhere, maybe they'd done this sort of thing before, or something."
Mulder shook her head, "Then there's nothing you can recall or...?"
"No, I have never heard of the Felim nor the planet. They also do not
quite look like anything I have encountered before," she settled back in
her seat, "It looks like you're discovering new territory, Captain
Mulder, without even having to leave the comfort of home...least not too
far." Dare anyone say it, was that a smirk on Gen's face?
"It seems more like new territory discovered *us*," Mulder said with a
what-can-ya-do? look on her face. "At least, they *appear* civilised
enough, but I guess we'll only really be able to start working on the
mystery once we get to know more about them. Unless you say otherwise,
I'll take the Away Team down and start the ball rolling there."
A slow nod, "I will...trust you to make the best choices in terms of
this, following the usual protocol," Gen said, "Please keep me frequently
updated as to your progress."
"Of course," Mulder nodded her assent. "It's probably not a
in the purest sense of the term anyway, since they say they
contact with other interstellar sentients beforehand. Maybe
tell us which ones, specifically, we might have a few leads
came from." Mulder was musing out loud.
First Contact
have had
if they can
on where they
Suddenly Gen had the feeling that she wasn't really that much a part of
the conversation any more, but she nodded. "Indeed, it is at least a
start."
"The one good thing is, if it all checks out well, this crew is going to
get it's first taste of planetside R & R for many years," Mulder smiled.
"Subject to safety protocols, it'll be a morale boost like they've never
known before. But we'll see what tomorrow brings first. I'll arrange so
that all reports are forwarded to Gamma Command as soon as I file them.
In the meantime, if you could ask around your end, in case anyone has any
information...I mean, someone, somewhere, *must* have heard of them."
"I will see what I can do," the Admiral replied and she meant it,
although this was still just...bizarre, but she was coming to expect
nothing less from that place.
"Thank you, Admiral. I will indeed keep you informed, and of course, if
any others show up, I'll let you know right away. Though I hope not," a
look of consternation crossed her pale features. "One mysterious planet
is *more* than enough to be going on with."
"I should think so," Gen replied wryly, "St Clare out," and with that she
closed the channel and rubbed her temples. She was getting out of this
office and fast. Running away, very quickly, before BoB could possibly
have the chance to call back with any *more* news!
=/\= Counsellor Dharma's Quarters - Starbase BoB =/\=
Having visited her line manager, the assistant chief counsellor had
retreated back to her office. Arihana looked up, the door had chimed. She
frowned as champagne blonde was accompanied by a copper haired young man.
Would make for interesting kids, she thought. They were bickering, as
only couples do. She was wittering on, he wasn't listening. Arihana
smiled. Women had evolved to have larger speech organs for a reason;
males were smaller for an even better reason. They knew better than to
answer back. Arihana slammed shut Vinnie jones' Aggression and the
Aritsan the twelfth edition. "Can I help?"
Dhillon kicked a chock in some random direction, he was feeling riled. It
was one apiece, and they were acting like children. With his back to
gerty, he could see the globe, spinning within the swirls of cloud. Why
did he have to open his big mouth, why did he have to mention notches?
Arihana could probably do it once, maybe even twice. She wouldn't be able
to cope with it all. The whole casual, jump the nearest guy wasn't her
bag.
Dhillon was absorbed in the globe.Wasn't exactly his thing either.
The tourist flights didn't seem a bad idea, perhaps some money was to be
made.
Arihana was gnarling at her lip. Trying, trying so desperately to not
burst out laughing. "She" didn't trust him, had a roving eye apparently.
"He" was a cuckold, who ought to get some...
" 'She'll" be with him. Flaunting her bits in a costume that could pass
for dental floss." "Oh, grow up, Mae. I only got liver bile for you. Her
name is T'artee." "Will, I'm sorry. You and that shameless hussy, she's
been sniffing around you..."
The counsellor bit her lip, to look at the three relevant files. There
was William Imp. Wimp to his friends. Bakewell, T'artee. Arihana's eyes
watered seeing what she looked like. Mae Westonsupermare here had every
reason to be worried. The counsellor let them bicker for a moment. Just
watching the body language, hearing the rise and fall of tone. The
gesticulation, the eye contact, her smile faded. This looked so familiar
form the outside looking in.
Seems like just yesterday You were a part of me I used to stand so tall I
used to be so strong Your arms around me tight Everything, it felt so
right Unbreakable, like nothin' could go wrong Now I can't breathe No, I
can't sleep I'm barely hanging on
-oh, my god.That's what we looked like.Me and- The more you antagonise
him, the further he'll go. You want him close, at heel, but you don't
know how get him there. Then, there is you. You're trying desperately
hard to get within an inch of Mae, but all you get is pushed away, made
to feel a lesser man. You can't go on like this. You'll combust, it'll
end, and it will be game over. Where you gonna be, mae, when you're sixty
four? Wimp, you really have to get a grip, as well as some backbone. Arihana stood up, to lean onto her desk.
Dhillon had no idea where he stood. She probably didn't have a clue
either. They used to be one. Intrinsically linked. Now they were apart.
Separate flotsam and jetsam. Knowing her inside and out, that was the
problem. The rebound had felt odd, alien without the pun. As though you
were putting on someone elses shoes. Then there was Arihana. The idea of
notches, sharing his toys, suddenly it was no longer for his eyes only.
Wonder what it's like. Looks pretty. Like pretty. Dhillon turned around
to look at Gerty, picking up an oil skin. There was work to be done, if
he was going to make a mint. He needed to make gerty worth chartering.
There this to do, that, was the fuel core efficient? What was the use? He
had no idea whether flights were allowed yet; it would be a waste of
time. Dhillon kicked another chock.
Here I am, once again I'm torn into pieces Can't deny it, can't pretend
Just thought you were the one Broken up, deep inside But you won't get to
see the tears I cry Behind these hazel eyes
-You were though. The one. I waited. Two years. Two years for you to come
home. That rainstorm couldn't have come quicker; I couldn't have done a
more efficient rain dance. When you left, it was awkward. It was even
more awkward when you came back. The gawky, tomboy I remembered, she'd
changed. You see no one knows. What happened was this, you shinning down
the drainpipe at four in the morning. You trying to explain to Jevan why
there were a pair of kecks up the flagpole. To this day, no one knows.
You were that undiscovered country and me, I got there first.Dhillon leant against the shuttle, passing his palms over his face. When
you have shared that much, you don't just walk away. You can't just let
it go that easy. He didn't want to know about notches, he didn't want to
know whether she had screwed a novice or an old timer. Dhillon could feel
his skin crawl, crawl at the thought. Didn't want another man playing
with toys. Didn't want another man walking in his shoes. It was bad
enough that some eejit had got up close and personal to create that bust.
Another chock went flying. He had let that one slide. The bust was a
bust, could be crushed back down to plaster powder.
Wimp and Mae looked Arihana, wideyed and surprised. Where had that come
from? Mae nodded, listening. Wimp held out his hand, for Mae to hold it.
Mae was shaking. Wimp was surprised. All the hot air Mae spouted, trying
to crack the whip. This was what it really looked like. The counsellor
told 'em. If they couldn't trust each, they shouldn't be anywhere near
each other. It takes one to push, but they both need to pull, pull
togther.
Arihana sat down, waving as they walked out. Relationships. Who'd have
them?
She was about to write something, only for the door to chime again. If it
was another domestic, she would scream. Arihana smiled as the two walked
in.
"Dude, all them honeys, man. Bikinis and bling." "Yeah, brudder. We gotta
have a plan, 'doh, be cool, and so'fitsticated, innit." "Counsellor, man,
you'll know." "Ye-ah, Arihana, stah. What sunscreen makes the girls git
down, innit?"
The counsellor smiled. First she looked at the caramel haired fella, the
freckles were kind of cute. The other, a purple dreaded pink toned chap.
Some fun could be had with this.
I told you everything Opened up and let you in You made me feel alright
For once in my life Now all that's left of me Is what I pretend to be So
together, but so broken up inside 'Cause I can't breathe No, I can't
sleep I'm barely hangin' on
"Dis the way to do it?" "Dude, you got it the wrong way round, man." "Dem
girls won't know no better, me tells you." "Rufus, dude, we gonna be the
kings of the surf."
Arihana watched through her fingers as Damien pretended to surf, standing
on the chaise lounge. Having freckles in them kind of places wasn't cute,
it was criminal. Rufus was watching the scene from Ten on the holoscreen.
His dreads were distinctly on end. Yep, his dreads, I know what you was
thinking, you with the filthy mind.
The two were shepherded out of the office, as Arihana left with them.
They were to be sensible, if the CO permitted a joyflight. Be proper
little boy scouts, prepared for every eventuality. Damien would have to
have high factor sunscreen, and Rufus was to remain hydrated at times.
That meant eitch two oh, and stay away from the proof rum.
Swallow me then spit me out For hating you, I blame myself Seeing you it
kills me now No, I don't cry on the outside Anymore...
She was standing there. Here in front of him. It wasn't a figment of his
imagination. Was definitely real. She had that look on her face. That
look amongst all the others that Dhillon knew. That look of I don't wanna
fight anymore.
"Why you here? Not got another green behind the gills newt to play wid?
Its open play, sweetheart, go score. Score as many times as you want. I'm
done with keeping a clean sheet."
Here I am, once again I'm torn into pieces Can't deny it, can't pretend
Just thought you were the one Broken up, deep inside But you won't get to
see the tears I cry Behind these hazel eyes
Dhillon was lying. Lying about being done with a clean sheet. That
undiscovered country, the one where he got there first. Good thing he
still remembered the way there and back again. No one was gonna play with
his toys. No one was gonna take a walk in his shoes.
=/\= Briefing Room - Deck124 - Starbase BoB =/\=
Cade stood in front of the assembled marines and looked them over again.
He'd just finished explaining the situation, vis-a-vis the planet
Faylinn. "Team leaders stick around for a moment. Everyone else is
dismissed."
Cade waited for the majority of his troopers to walk out of the room
before he waved the NCO's into their chairs. He walked around the
slightly elevated dais and sat on the table in the front of the room. "I
don't know what exactly is going to come of this Away Mission. Either
everything is exactly as it seems and we've got new neighbors that have
peaceful intentions, or we're walking our senior officers into a trap."
A hand shot up and Cade acknowledged, "Corporal Kresha?"
The Bajoran medic dropped his hand. "Third possibility, sir, is that
these aliens are fekk! ing with us in some sort of experiment."
"Been considered, Corporal, but right now, there isn't any information to
support that theory. In fact, we don't have enough information to
accurately support either of the two, so we're not going in lightly."
Cade tapped a button on the padd in his hand and the screens at all of
the NCO's stations lit up. "Corporals Finn and Kresha will accompany me
to the surface with the Away Team. I want you two to look like your not
only armed for bear, but that you're prepared to skin him and eat him raw
as well. Understood?"
Cade got a couple of nods in response and went down to the next item.
"Sergeant Bastian. You will work with Master Gunnery Sergeant Canowicakte
in forming up a ready reserve that can insert into the planet on a RedayFive status. Gideon, you'll handle the heavy weapons and LZ pacification.
Drake, your team will drop f! arther away and provide long-distance
support for evacuation procedures." That was marine-speak for, 'take the
high ground and snipe any bastard that tries to interfere with us.'
"Staff Sergeants O'Reilly and K'rraz, coordinate your teams as a ReadyTen status in case the first two teams are in danger of being overrun.
Sergeant Borgaz, place yourself and your engineers at the disposal of the
USS Enforcer. They'll give us top cover for the mission and may need
assistance in repelling boarders if this thing goes sideways on us."
Cade rattled off the mission parameters for the rest of his NCO's before
getting to the last one, where he paused. "Corporal Frost. See me later
regarding your assignment for the duration. You and your team will not be
participating in either the Away Team or in support. I've got something
special for you."
He could near! ly see the steam from Frost's head over being left out of
the mission planning, but she was still a very junior NCO and would have
to deal with. And get used to it. "That is all, Troopers. Dismissed."
Cade was the last one out of the door and walked by Frost. "Give me an
hour before you report," he said without slowing down on his way to his
quarters.
He wanted to get his own equipment checked and ready before dealing with
Angel's bruised ego.
=/\= Counseling - Starbase BoB =/\=
Arihana was feeling brave. Feeling brave as she knocked on the door.
Parvis was back. That coup, the one where Llara was a palace guard, it
suddenly seemed so distant.
"Ah, hello, Miss Dharma." Parvis waved her into the office. "Surprise!
I'm back from Ena!"
Arihana gave a rather fake, broad grin, and waved. "Hi, how yer doing?
Had a a safe journey back, didn't get attacked or anything?
She sat herself down onto a seat without so much of an invitation. The
throne of the absent emperor, filled. Filled by the emperor.
"Safe journey. Hm." Parvis quickly tried to change the subject. "I
understand you had your hands full with Mr Wainscoting while I was away.
He can be troublesome, can't he?"
Arihana shrugged, brushing away some lint from her trouser leg as she
crossed them. Apparently there was a bust on the base, with her name on
it. "He's quite a character, Parvis. Amenable in more way than one."
Parvis looked at her curiously. Amenable? What had she been up to with
the artist? "So, you'll be getting another chance to take over
Counseling. The Captain needs me to run down to the planet with her."
Parvis gulped loudly.
Arihana smiled again, a little more genuinely this time, clasping her
hands over her knees. "Ooh, really. Another adventure, you'll be a
globetrotter before you know it. Counselling shall be be fine. Don't you
worry that pretty little indigo head of yours."
Parvis made a mental note to look up the word indigo at a later time. "If
you have any advice on First Contact procedures, I'm sure I could use
it."
"Erm, play nice, don't pull faces?"
"Well, yes. And try not to get eaten, jailed or enslaved. From the brief
communication we received from them, they seemed friendly enough. But,
that is usually the first step in fooling people into trusting you, yes?"
Parvis chuckled nervously.
"Perhaps you should review the footage as well. You know, in the event we
don't make it back, whoever takes command of the station will need a
Counselor wise to the enemy ways. It is in the computer." Parvis thunked
his console on the side.
Arihana nodded, she would, have a look. A counsellor to help whoever was
in charge. With Mulder being away as well, perhaps some random commander
or commodore was going to try his, her, it's luck. There was probably
someone waiting in the wings. Maybe she ought to keep her hypotheses to
herself, as well as that theory of who would be the next XO, in the
absence of that fella from medical.
"In the meantime, though, I'm sure there will be some frightened or
confused people on the station. The docked ships have all been detained,
some of the crews might be rather upset and need some calming or slapping
around. You get the lot of them while I'm off," Parvis smiled.
"A few, you know, the usual my mother's sleeping with my uncle Jim who is
father of my boyfriends sisters twins."
Parvis nodded. "Oh, and if the threat of shore leave materializes,
perhaps a list of personnel most in need of a vacation could be thrown
together? You know, a list of the real nutters or overworked personnel
that would need to be on the first boat down, that sort of thing?"
Arihana listened and nodded. She was overworked, and could also pass for
being a nutter. "Yeah, could do with a holiday. Top up the ol'tan." Would
be fun, may be Dhillon should run some tourist flights, if it was safe.
They'd make a mint.
"Erm, Parvis...I was wondering..." Arihana looked around, hoping that the
Klingon was nowhere within earshot.
"Yes?"
"Llara, she hasn't been telling tales or anything, has she?"
"Well, she did mention you were changing things around a bit. Some new
ideas on filing and such. Why do you ask?" Parvis eyed her with new-found
suspicion. "Got any other plans I should know about?"
Doing her best to look innocent, Arihana wanted to alley any ideas of her
being a usurper. "This is your department, Parvis. Why would I want to
nick it?"
"I don't know. Why would you want it? I have a violent, angry assistant
and a regular troupe of insane patients tromping through. I can't imagine
anyone wanting it. Besides, you're full up keeping track of your child
and husband, aren't you?"
Arihana hmped, or something similar. Maybe she should take out an ad in
SS&U about her newly found single status. Or not maybe as, the thought of
stalkers crossed her mind. "The child has been disposed of, as has the
husband. So I guess my schedule is fairly light and airy. "
Parvis' eyes grew wide. His mouth began to open, struggling to find
words, then paused.
"Don't look at at me like that. As much as I'd like to kill him, Dhillon
aint that bad. No, Suraj is being looked after, well away from here, and
his borderline father."
Parvis had said something about first contact, as Arihana changed the
subject back. "First contact demands respect. Respect in tandem with an
inquisitive mind, Parvis. They are just as scared of us, as we are of
them. Same goes with curiosity."
"Yes, yes, that sounds right." Parvis pondered her comments about the
family. One of these days he really must look into Arihana's background a
bit more throughly. "Just as scared, right."
All she could think of, was getting down there. Getting a tan. She
appeared lost in her thoughts, the thought of playing ball on the beach,
should there be one. The lazy ocean hugging the shore. It had been a
while since her collection of swimsuits had seen the cold light of day.
"They've said something about our not being able to beam out in an
emergency, so there is that to worry about as well," Parvis fretted.
"You'll be fine. Be concerned but careful."
"Yes. Stay behind the marines. Definitely."
Ball. Beach. Play. Her imagination was going into overdrive. Arihana
asked if there was anything else.
"No, nothing else for now." Definitely stay behind the marines.
Parvis, he had to have all the fun. No doubt the residents of BoB wanted
to go down too. Most of them would probably turn up wanting travel advice
or something. "Well, I best be off. Good luck, Parvis."
"Thank you." Parvis called up the image of the alien leader again as
Arihana left. As afraid of him as he was of them?
=/\= Brig - Starbase Raven =/\=
Harlan observed the situation with concentration. He was in a tough spot,
and he knew it. Hell, everyone in there could see it. There was little to
no chance to get out of it in good shape either. He sighed and wiped a
little sweatdrop off his brow. He could feel everyone in the room looking
at him, some with mocking gestures, others almost pleading for him fail.
"I have to focus. Focus" he admonished himself and blinked hard to clear
his already wobbling sight. Everything depended on his last move. The
tension was rising like a fighter being launched out of a carriers tube,
the silence was so intense that even a nervous breath from one of the
present boomed through the room like a hurricane. Even the slightest move
could provoke a catastrophe, and everyone knew it.
Slowly but determined, Harlan swung his arm back, twisted his wrist just
a little to acquire the right spin and thrusted his hand forward in one
flowing motion. He could feel the texture of the latinum strip, as it
slid through his extended fingertips, starting a graceful arc towards the
end of the room, where the guards strip was lying on the ground, almost
touching the beige coloured material of the back wall.
Several pair of eyes followed the ascention of the slip, reflecting the
overhead light with an almost regular blinking pulse. Harlan dared not to
breath, frozen in his last pose, hand extended, fingertips pointing a
little above the target point, one knee almost touching the ground,
almost but not quite. The slip reached the zenit of its trayectory,
spinning around its own axis in slow motion, until it almost aligned
perfectly with the straight line of the oncoming wall.
Then, it began to drop. A collective moment of holding breaths went
through the room, as everyone watched the strip spin again, slightly
upwards, like an athmospheric fighter about to touch ground after a
delicate, yet mathematical precisioned approach to the runway. Nearer and
nearer it came, aiming almost exactly at the guards strip, faster and
faster it went down towards the clean floor until...
A general gasp in unison escaped from several mouths, as the slip touched
ground, just a few millimeters in front of the guards strip. Having
landed on the backedge, the strip rolled forward on its own axis and took
of for a few milliseconds, forming an almost perfect 90 degree angle with
the floor, flying over the guards strip as if it wanted to show it
exactly how it had to be done. With a soft clink it touched the backwall,
with a slight overdrop. The lower edge touched the floor and was held in
place by the guards strip. One last shiver and the strip stopped finally,
leaning triumphantly against the wall, right in front of the losing
strip.
"YEAH!" shouted Conners.
"Piece o cake" grinned Derlith.
"Fekkin shit" groaned the guard looking with disbelief at the strips he
just lost.
Harlan said nothing, but savoured the moment of glory. He had learned
that shot when he was a kid, and didn't think he still had it in him.
Slowly, he went towards the strips on the floor, admired his shot
briefly, then proceeded to collect his winnings. "Anyone up for another
round?" he then asked with that fake casual tone people use to brag and
annoy the hell out of their contrincants.
"No bloody way" grumbled the guard and left the cell with empty pockets,
activating the force field behind him. Harlan sat down and started to
juggle with his newly acquired strips.
"That's how it's done, ladds" he said self satisfied towards his peers.
"Yeah well, I just wonder when we're gonna get out of here. They've let
everyone else out hours ago." grumbled Serwal, leaning on his bench,
looking at the ceiling. At that moment, the guard approached with an evil
smile on his face.
"Hey guys, you know what? This is really funny. I just found your release
orders. You were supposed to be released with the rest of the Caledonia
crew, but somebody messed up on the chain. And your ship's about to
leave, they asked for you, otherwise, who knows how long we'd 've kept
you here. Funny, innit?" he said all in one go, deactivating the force
field.
For a second, no one replied to it. Then they all started at the same
time.
"Son of a bitch!"
"Unbelievable!"
"You're not serious, are you?"
"Bloody Hell!"
Harlan was the first to storm towards the now open gate. He grabbed the
guard by the sleeves and pinned him against the wall. "You think this is
fucking funny? I have to resupply myself and you think it's funny?
Bastard" he said furiously, while Derlith singlehanded yanked him away
from the guard.
"We're going" he said calmly, dragging Harlan by the neck behind him.
"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING. LEMME KILL HIM, THE BASTARD. HAD US HERE
FOR AGES FOR NOTHIN!" roared Harlan, trying to get loose of Derliths iron
grip without success.
"Yeah, we're leaving. Cheers" added Connors and left behind Serwal. The
guard stood for a minute at the place where Harlan had left him, the
blood slowly returning to his face. "
I'll be damned" he muttered then.
"Caledonia crew it had to be. Can't take a joke, fer fekks sake." he sat
down on his chair and sighed heavily.
=/\= Promenade - Starbase BoB =/\=
"A freaking planet," Avery said to him with a laugh and shake of his
head.
It was hard to deny that life here was going to be interesting. Business
had slowed down since the global visitor below arrived, but he ventured
that it was like that all along. He'd heard that most the business owners
had gathered for a meeting on the subject, but he had not attended. He
knew that whether the planet went or stayed, business would pick up again
once the novelty wore off.
Still, it was lovely to look at. He missed Earth sometimes.
Shinandra had left the Infirmary and gone straight to the Third Eye.
She'd had a full evening scheduled for readings, including one over the
time she usually took her break. Everyone was suddenly flooding in and
she had a feeling that it had to do with the planet. Everyone was trying
to see if there were any clues about it to be found, by any possible way
neccessary. She had the feeling she had little information to give from
these many readings, but it was good business.
All the same, she was exhausted once she left for the evening and not
looking forward to another boring night of lonely silence in her
quarters. She rubbed the back of her neck, head hanging somewhat, as she
walked down the Promenade, trying to avoid looking at the planet through
the viewports.
It was hard to miss her as she walked by him, but Avery could tell easily
that she hadn't noticed him in return. She looked exhausted. Something in
the set of her shoulders concerned him. He caught up with her and fell in
step easily, as she did not walk very fast by comparison. "What is it
they say, physician heal thyself?" he asked in a gently upbeat way,
hoping to not over-whelm with ouward concern.
At the sudden voice next to her, Nandra jumped and then looked up.
Rolling her eyes, she sighed with exasperation. "Damn it, Avery, I'm too
tired to deal with you right now."
"Deal with what?" he asked, "That someone is concerned for you because
you look exhausted?"
"It was just a long day with a lot of work. Everyone has those from time
to time," she replied evasively, not willing to give in on the question.
It was Avery's turn to sigh. "That's true, everyone does," he agreed,
"But I know how you used to be and I'm willing to bet money that you
haven't changed *that* much and you're still trying to over-work
yourself."
She gave him what she knew was a petulant look, but she couldn't stop it.
"I'm not trying to do anything of the sort. There's just a lot of work to
be done and someone has to do it."
"Uh hunh," he replied non-committaly. "Look, darlin',"
"Don't call me that."
"Whatever..." He tried again, "Look, *Shinandra*, I know that it's a lot
of work being a Doctor, especially on an under-staffed place like this,"
It didn't take a brain surgeon to figure that one out, "But you are also
a business owner, which is also a full time job. It's a lot of work, so I
think by equal measure, you have to spend a concentrated effort on taking
time off."
She frowned, but didn't reply. This conversation was starting to tread
far too close to her inner thoughts these days. She could hardly lie
outright about it - he would probably be able to tell anyways - but she
didn't want to admit it either. "I do what I can," she replied
unconvingly, although she did think back to that walk with Cade. That had
been a fair diversion...
His dark eyes glittered with a faint hint of amusement. "You never could
lie that well around me," he commented. Using his longer legs to his
advantage, he took the lead and then turned to face her. "How many hours
did you work today?" he asked.
This one took her a moment. "Uhh..." she replied intelligently. "What
does that matter?" she returned a question with a sort of defensive
irritation because she couldn't quite come up with a quick answer.
"This is what I'm saying," Avery said, then smiled. "Come on," he reached
down and took her hand, then pulled her along.
=/\= Forty-Five Minutes Later - Adobe - Starbase BoB =/\=
Avery Bryce was a hard man to resist, and he always had been. Despite her
reluctance and an inner feeling that this was not going to end well,
Shinandra had allowed herself to be brought to a quiet drink and dinner
in the ever over-loaded with atmosohere Adobe. Admittedly, she had never
been here before, but found she liked it. It was quite different from
"The Third Eye" - all for the better, since it helped lessen the feeling
of 'competition'.
With her level of fatigue as it was, it had only taken one drink for her
to feel a familiar relaxation settle in to her.
Their conversation had quieted for the moment while Shinandra looked
around the room another time. He had always noticed that about her, this
need to observe, although sometimes it wasn't there at all. It was a
strange thing, but he wasn't focusing solely on that...just on her. With
his elbow on the table, he rested his chin on his hand and watched her.
Finally, her dark eyes flickered back towards him and caught the stare.
Sheepishly, she looked down. Alcohol usually made her shy. "What are you
looking at?" she asked around a quiet laugh.
"Just you," he replied honestly. "It's been a long time since we had a
chance to enjoy some time together."
This sharpened her focus again, "And just who's fault is that?" she asked
pointedly.
He winced internally. 'Bright move, Avery,' he chided himself inwardly.
With any other woman, he was a lot smoother than this...he liked to think
so, at least. "Mine, and I acknowledge that," he admitted. "It's my own
fault that I forgot what a wonderful companion you are."
The
"We
her
the
combination of the drink and the compliment softened her a little.
all make mistakes," she said quietly. Somewhere inside, a voice told
that this moment was one of hers, but she kicked that little voice in
shin, took its lunch money and sent it running home.
"Some more than others," he said quietly, reaching across the table and
lightly taking her hand in his. "I am truly sorry for hurting you the way
that I did. I make no excuses, but I want you to know that I really am
sorry."
The little voice, regaining its bravery, made a valiant effort at
returning and told her that forgiving him would only get her hurt again.
However, memories of other recent conversations...needing to take
chances...better to confront...it came to her, but how could she be sure
that *this* was the chance she should take? There were other chances she
could easily move on, ones she would not object to certainly and had
thought about, but...this was here, now. Hard to argue with that...
With a faint smile, she looked at him. "We all make mistakes," she said
softly, by way of accepting his apology, and both understood.
After another drink, Avery took care of the bill and they left shortly
after that. Not many words were spoken in between until they began
walking along the Promenade. Nandra was definitely feeling relaxed by
this point. (She had never been a heavy drinker.)
"All right, so what have you been doing the past couple years?" she
asked, wrapping her arms around herself not out of cold, but just to be
comfortable. She glanced upwards and sidelong at him and got caught in
the bright flash of his smile. It felt familiar...
"Until coming here, much of the same," he replied.
She found herself arching her brow, but in good nature...mostly. "Have
many girlfriends?" she asked, a touch coy. A little bravery returning to
her.
He chuckled and looked at her. She was the same Nandra, shy and brazen at
the same time. "None since leaving you here on BoB and not many in
between that. I just did not have as much interest in dating after
you..." He grinned, "You poisoned me for all other women," he joked,
although there was an element of truth.
"I cannot imagine you spending so much time as that without dating," she
teased, although it would be hard to deny that she was surprised at that
and a little more humbled, assuming it was true. She didn't think Avery
would lie to her like that, but bend things perhaps.
"Hard to believe, but true, I assure you," he replied, "And what about
you? Dating much?"
Her own laugh was wry, "You should know the answer to that. I work too
much for most guys to handle. Relationships need work, need presence..."
she drifted off.
Pausing in his strides, he turned towards her. Surprised, she pulled up
short and looked up at him, curiosity plainly to be read in her dark
eyes. He could always so easily get lost in those eyes. Even when dating
her had just been another short term relationship, before it had become
something else, those eyes...
"Maybe you should change that," he said softly, then reached out and put
his hand on her face.
In a weakened moment now, she did not pull away and felt herself
relenting to his touch as he leaned down and kissed her.
=/\= Three Hours Later - Shinandra's Quarters - Starbase BoB =/\=
"Ohh, stars," Shinandra moaned as she sat up on the edge of the bed
holding a sheet around her and trying very hard not to look over her
shoulder at the sleeping form next to her. "Damn it, what did I do?"
All right, all right, so she *knew* what had happened...The real question
was why had she let it happen?
Okay, so she could guess that, too.
She had not drunk nearly enough to have any sort of hang over now,
although she found herself wishing that she had. It would help the
feeling of regret she was battling now. There was a large part of her
mind saying it was stupid to regret something like what had happened, but
after falling asleep for a short amount of time following and waking up
again...it was hard to do otherwise.
"What's wrong?" Avery asked, slowly regaining consciousness himself as he
somehow felt that she was awake beside him. He discovered that he was
right and reached out to touch her back.
"What do you think!?" she exclaimed, whirling on him and looking on the
verge of tears. "We should not have done this?"
Looking at her levelly, he tried to read her but found it not easy to do.
"Why not?" he asked gently.
Of course he could say that, he was just so...male! She turned back
around, wrapping her arms more tightly around herself. She was upset, but
she wasn't. A part of her still remembered what she had felt for him on
604 and wanted to go back to that, she couldn't lie to herself on that
one, but there was still a great deal of herself that thought this was
one of the stupider moves she'd ever made.
"I have to go," she muttered, starting to get to her feet.
"Nandra, darlin, these are your quarters," he pointed out quietly. He did
not realize that it would have this much of an adverse affect on her...He
had thought...well, he hadn't done too much thinking, but enough so, he
thought that it would make things better, not worse. "I'm sorry," he
said, almost too quietly to be heard.
Settling back down to a seat, she bit her lip and looked over at him.
"No... we're adults...I just..." She took a heavy breath, "I don't want
to start up a relationship again. I don't..." She laid back down and
stared helplessly at the ceiling. "I've been very lonely and tonight came
from that, but I'm not looking to start *us* up again...I still don't
trust that you won't break my heart..."
Pushing himself up on his elbow, he looked down in to her face and saw
that she really believed it. He supposed he couldn't blame her, but it
still hurt a little. "I understand," he replied. "I want you to believe
me and I'll do what I can to accomplish that, because I do want a
relationship with you again, Nandra, but only when you're sure you do,
too. I don't know what'd happen, but I can promise that I won't be doing
what I did before...I won't abandon you like that again."
Returning the searching gaze, she nodded shakily. "We'll see what the
future brings then, I suppose," she whispered, "But not now...I'm sorry
for tonight...I didn't mean to lead you on...I've just been...lonely..."
"It's all right," he touched his finger to her lips. "It was...what it
was. We'll leave it at that." He gave her a soft smile and then kissed
her cheek.
She buried her face in the pillow while he got up and headed out. She
didn't know what to think. There were far too many conflicting thoughts
now muddling her mind. She hadn't had just another night alone in her
quarters with just her dog, but somehow, she didn't feel any better.
Falling asleep the second time did not come easily.
=/\= Main Engineering - USS Caledonia =/\=
"Commander McArnh to all Caledonia crew. We will be departing for a new
assignment at midday tomorrow. Please return to the vessel and prepare to
leave Raven. You will have a short amount of time this evening to finish
up any business."
Zeke looked up from his worktable on which he had disassembled part of
one of the EPS flow regulators. "Great, headed out already. Didn't even
give us a full repair crew rotation."
Despite having a larger then usual backlog of repairs, Zeke spent most of
the day alone wandering around Starbase Raven. Of course he probably
wasn't really alone, there was most likely a security detail or two
following him given what had happened to him and the rest of the senior
staff. *Must be the air,* he thought to himself, *to clean...to...
medicinal*
He spent most of the time looking for the Crewman he accidentally brained
with the candlestick holder the other night, wanting to make amends. It
was all for naught, even if he would of spied him, he most likely would
of avoided Zeke like the plague.
Sticking two fingers in his mouth, Zeke gave a sharp whistle to get the
attention of everybody in Engineering. "Alright listen up guys, looks
like we're headed out tomorrow, another assignment already."
Didn't take an expert pair of ears to detect the groans coming from the
Engineering crew. "Yes, yes, I feel the same way, but when 'Fleet says
jump, we jump. Since it looks like we're not getting time for a good
overhaul like the Caly needs, and since our repair crews were...less then
adequate. Considering the uh, incident with the senior staff, it was to
be expected."
"So what I need from all of you is a list of repairs that still need
finished, and give them some sort of priority, since if history is any
indication of future performance, then we'll have some more things to fix
by the time we're done"
=/\= Main Operations - Starbase BoB =/\=
It had been a long time since Jack Angel had had to deal with a sensor
suite. His training in the systems had been over 20 years ago, and the
technology had changed somewhat in the intervening years.
But
bit
had
the
Jack was a lucky man. In this particular case, twice lucky. His first
of luck came in the form of his assistant, Claire Cartwright - who
become something of a shadow to him while on duty. She easily handled
really deep analysis of the sensor readings from the planet.
His second bit of luck came in the form of the sensor systems themselves.
They were about as old as his training was...
Jack sat at one end of the large Operations console and stared intently
at the screen in front of him. It showed an image of the mystery planet
with superimposed sensor details pointing to different sections of the
diagram. To the right was another screen with scrolling data, this being
the input from the sensors themselves and the single probe they had
launched to the far side of the planet. The computer crunched the
numbers, and relayed the findings to the diagram. Jack could already tell
that the computer was working faster than it had been when he had arrived
on the station, but it was still slower than a bunch of networked
tricorders.
Sitting next to him was Claire, staring at another screen with far more
technical data displayed on it. While Jack wasn't up to dealing with the
science stuff, he was certainly capable of reading a basic sensor output.
"Well, they have no orbital weapons systems. Just a few satellites. Looks
like communications units. Their technology looks to be about equal to
Earth, circa 22nd century."
Claire nodded absently and added "That's not surprising. There doesn't
appear to be any indication of a space program at all. No warp
signatures, no ion trails. The atmosphere doesn't show any signs of
rocket propulsion either, though that would only last a short time.
Still, nothing at all."
"Their technology level would allow for some sort of exploration" Jack
muttered. He scrolled through the data until he came across the
geological summery. A lot of it made little sense to him, but the
computer had been programmed to provide the simple and abridged version
for the scientifically challenged.
"It's almost a textbook example of a Class-M world. Very lush, two polar
icecaps, a number of continents. The air scans as clean...sounds too good
to be true."
Claire glanced over at Jack and smiled. "Pessimist."
"Realist." Jack answered. "I expect things to fall apart 'cause they
usually do."
"And when they don't?" she asked, turning back to her own screen.
"Then I'm pleasantly surprised." Jack answered. He frowned as he scrolled
down a little more. "And here's where my pessimism starts to pay
off...look at these population statistics."
Claire turned and leaned into look over Jack's shoulder. "That can't be
right..."
"I've checked it. The total population only numbers around 1 million
people, scattered in small cities with hundreds of kilometers between
them. There's barely enough people to fill a good sized city, yet they
live in tiny clumps all around the equatorial line..."
"How odd." Claire said. She turned back to her own screen and tapped in a
few commands. "No sign of any sort of holocaust to explain the small
population. No signs of nuclear fallout or any sort of large energy
discharge. It doesn't look like they killed themselves off to this level.
Maybe they have a very strict protocol on procreation?"
Jack shook his head. "It didn't seem that way, not from what this Felim
fellow said. I wonder if they are native to this world? This would be
about the size of a standard colony. Any information on that stratosphere
scattering field?"
Claire shook her head. "Not really. There is indeed a high concentration
of magnetic ion particles in the upper atmosphere, but I can't pin down
where they come from or why they are there. It could be a naturally
occurring element of this planet's composition, but it would take a while
to trace that down...and then there's this..."
It was Jack's turn to lean over and share Claire's screen. She pointed to
the readout and said "There are a few unidentified trace gasses in the
upper atmosphere. We have nothing like it in our records and the computer
is having an issue analyzing it."
Jack stared at the technobabble on the display and took Claire's word for
it. "Make sure to send the science lab these readings. Let them deal with
it. What about the transporting issue?"
"Not a chance." Claire replied. "Any transporter confinement beam that
passed through those ionic particles would refract in a million different
ways. Transport would fail..." She paused and shuddered a little. "Did
you really have to add that video to the warning message?"
Jack smiled. "Hey, the Captain said 'be graphic'. That was pretty
graphic."
"Did she really say that?"
Jack thought back to the orders he had been given. What Mulder had
actually said was 'be as graphic as you like', but Jack had always been
of the opinion that to get a point across one needed to do it hard and
fast the first time. "Yeah, she did." He answered.
Claire didn't believe him, but wasn't about to question him on it. "It
might be possible to reinforce the transporter confinement beam. Maybe
jacket it in something that can shield it from the particles."
"Maybe. Take all these readings and send them to Captain Mulder, but copy
Engineering on it as well. Maybe they can work on the transport issue."
"Aye sir."
Claire set about summarizing the report and sending it out. Jack leaned
back and turned back to his own screen with the image of the planet. It
looked innocuous enough, but something in the back of his head was
screaming that this wasn't right...of course the planet did just appear
out of nowhere, so that right there was enough to make most normal people
worried.
But Jack wasn't a normal person. He didn't really have the capacity to
worry about anyone but himself. And for him to be concerned about this
rogue world appearing from nowhere, that would indicate a serious
problem...
=/\= Sickbay - USS Caledonia =/\=
The Caledonia was due to set out soon and Des could not be happier. Her
short stay in the Brig was pretty much all forgotten by this point, as
she saw no reason to dwell on the negative. Her farewell to Garrett had
gone much better the second time around and now that was pretty much a
passing pleasant memory as well.
It was the same with each posting she'd had. As she stepped in to the
Sickbay, a little thrill of excitement ran through her.
Certainly, the Caledonia's Sickbay was a far cry from the ones that she
had worked in on her previous tours of duty, but it didn't really matter
- again, best to not dwell on the negative. It was a new posting with new
people - some of whom she'd now made acquantinces with in the Brig.
With one finger idly twirling a loose curl, she began to make her way
through the room and get a better idea about the place that she would now
be working. The words 'chronically undersupplied and understaffed'
floated through her mind, but again with the not focusing on the
negative, she ignored them. She'd make do with what she could find.
Strange as it was, she was beginning to feel even better about her new
posting *because* of her turn in the Brig. If she had done the same thing
while on her other ships, she would have stood a very good chance of
ending up in seriously trouble. Instead, it had been an opportunity to
*meet other crew of your own ship* - there was a lot to be said for that,
as she saw it.
Briefly, she toyed with the idea of turning on the EMH just to see what
he was like, but she dismissed that idea. It would probably be more
trouble than it was worth.
It didn't take her long for her to get a good idea of what things were
available here, she was a bright enough girl most the time, and while the
prognosis was far from ideal, she felt better for having the knowledge.
Her full turns at duty here would start very soon, she was glad for, and
she felt better having more information going in.
That being taken care of, she headed out again to find where her new
quarters would be.
=/\= Main Security Office - USS Caledonia =/\=
"What the hell is wrong with you!! The guy needed a friggin lesson, and
you know that!" Harlan continued rambling, as he had all the way to the
ship.
Derlith shrugged and just looked away.
"Can you cut it out now?" replied Serwal annoyed in his stead. "You just
would've gotten us back into that cell with that little bully act of
yours" he said plainly.
"Oh because you were just happy for that "funny mistake", were you?"
Harlan snapped back and stepped to the replicator. "Coffee, black" he
ordered grumbling, his back turned to the rest of his team. He was still
fuming in anger, but knew they were absolutely right. Which didn't do
much to improve his mood.
=/\= =/\= =/\=
"Unauthorised my lobes..." grumbled Zim as he made his way to security.
The moment he'd got back on the caly he had headed straight to his
quarters to drop stuff off and well...nap. But once he'd got there the
door hadn't opened. At first he'd put it down to the Caly being the Caly.
But after several minutes of trying to pull the door open and entering
his security codes and not getting anywhere Zim decided he needed some
help.
Seurus leaned against the wall and watched the newcomer, as he strolled
into the room. "Waitasecond. Lt. Zim?" he finally asked with surprise.
"Now that's unexpected, isn't it?" his grin widened. Harlan turned around
as he heard Derliths exclamation. Zim was the guy that had run this
department before his arrival. He had been locked into a stasis tube,
then freed and sent off the ship. Was he doing that bad a job that they
had to call the Ferengi back? Granted, his performance with the M'vrum
kids had not been the brightest, but did it merit being replaced?
"Lt. Zim" he finally said more cooly then he intended. "What brings you
here to *my* department" he added with a fake friendly note, distrust
written all over his face.
Noting Harlan's tone Zim stopped dead. He was used to generally not being
welcome, but had thought the Caledonia would have been a bit different.
Tired after journey Zim wasn't in the mood to be very diplomatic. He gave
a nod to Derlith and then looked at Harlan.
"I tried to get to my quarters but I think certain security codes have
been changed. So I thought I come and see some old friends..." He smiled
at Derlith and then looked back at Harlan, "and get somebody to fix it
for me."
Harlan wondered briefly what this was all about. His experience in SF
told him, that when it came to replacements, there was an observation
period. Maybe this simple code question was some kind of test. "Well" he
said, stretching the word and leaning against the wall, determined not to
loose ground. "Security codes change, y´see. Otherwise, they wouldn't be
very secure wouldn't they." he retorted smugly. "Besides, being part of
the *active* crew helps for that matter, and I haven't recieved report of
any newcomers to assign said codes, now have I" he added on an
afterthought.
Derlith looked with unease towards Harlan. He was being an ass and knew
it. "Would that be your old quarters?" he intervened in a reasonable
tone. "They're just next to yours, Boss" he added, hoping it would help
somehow. Harlan threw a murderous glance towards Derlith and turned back
to the former Security Chief. This was a battle he wouldn't loose,
especially not after that Guard playing that stupid prank on them.
Zim's ugly grin got a little wider. Making it look a lot more like a
pained grimace. "Yes my old quarters." Next to his? thought Zim in alarm.
And as for changing codes for security Zim was kind of impressed. Not for
actual security reasons, more for profit. Change the code, charge a fee
for the new one. A perfect money spinner, but somehow he felt Harlan
didn't have the lobes for that sort of thing.
"I'm am an active member of the crew...well I am now. I've been
reassigned here. I've no doubt that McArnh has a copy of the orders with
my assignment on his desk".
Zim didn't know if Grey had a desk or not but he assumed he would, if
only as an extra place to store whiskey. "If he hasn't chosen to let his
underlings know yet then thats not my problem. I'm sure I can be trusted
with access to my quarters whilst you sort things out." Inwardly Zim was
panicking. Maybe Grey had noticed the demotion and didn't want him
anymore?
Harlan fumed in his insides. Underlings, the Ferengi had said.
Underlings, like some sort of inferior slave? Well, fine. Have it that
way, he thought to his inside, his face turning to a friendly mask.
"Right you are." he said with sarcastic cheerfulness. "You are of course
to be trusted if you say so. Here let me give you an Alpha One Clearance,
just to make up for my mistake, while I go get at once your transfer
orders." he added, grinning like a shark about to swallow a helpless
tourist floating on a palmshaped matress in the middle of the ocean.
No, no, no no! panicked Zim. He hadn't received confirmation of his
assignment on the way. He wasn't really expecting one, what with where he
was being sent, but now he was here...Even if he did have to leave he
didn't want to do it infront of Harlan. "Is that really required? I'm
sure you're busy enough. Can't I go get them later?"
"Not really, no" replied Harlan dryly, watching with satisfaction the
Ferengis face. "Unless I get those orders, or a direct order from Cmdr.
McArnh, I can't assign you any codes. Standard Starfleet Procedure." he
said satisfied.
Meanwhile, Derlith had approached Harlans desk, covered in PADDs. Since
Leslie had taken her LOA, it was quite common to see piles and stacks of
those buggers on it, leaving just enough space for old coffee mugs or
whisky glasses. He started to skim through the PADDs until he found what
he was looking for. Two days in the brig had also meant a lot of
paperwork not being done.
"Sir" he approached Harlan and handed him the PADD without any further
comment. "So, until I get those orders, I am afraid there is nothing I
can do. You know how it is, my hands are tied" Harlan continued with a
fake sympathy. He had no problem with Zim per se, but he would not give
away his post. Not now. Not after all he had been through thanks to it.
He looked down at his hands and found a PADD in it.
Zim wondered how to get out of that one. He didn't want to lose face now.
If he went away and saw Grey on his own, Zim lost. If Harlan contacted
Grey and Zim wasn't wanted, he lost. Maybe he could bribe Harlan? It
might be standard starfleet procedure to wait for the orders but this
wasn't a standard starfleet ship. "Maybe if I was to offer you..."
started Zim hesitantly. He stopped though as he watched Harlan read the
padd. Something was up...
Harlan read it through, his face turning redder and redder. "Errr" he
finally said. "It seems." he tried again, his face burning. "Apparently"
he finally managed to say. "Your orders arrived yesterday. We
were...delayed for two days, so it might have slipped my attention.
Here's your set of codes for your quarters and...the Sickbay??" he looked
up and over to Zim, suddenly wishing for a hole to open underneath him
and swallow him on the hole. This day had started bad and seemed to turn
worse by the minute.
Zim's grin returned. Now he realised what was going on. Or at least he
thought he did. Old department head returns, new one worries about
getting the boot. A Ferengi would have just bribed the old department
head or have had him 'dealt with'. Hew-mans could be so odd sometimes.
"Yes. I'm to be the Clincal Manager. Make sure everyone's had their shots
and had any invasive procedure we might feel like doing." Zim tilted his
head enquiringly, "You seem shocked though..." If this was all a
misunderstanding then there might actually be one less anti-me crewmember
around, thought Zim. Still...he couldn't help but needle Harlan a little.
"No!" Harlan replied immediately, a little bit louder then he wanted.
"I'm good. I'm good" he added hastily, attempting a smile. "Just had a
long day. You know how it is on this ship." he mumbled some sort of
excuse.
Nodding his bulbous head, Zim agreed, "It can be a bit hetic." Zim didn't
add that a long day could mean anything from being on your 8th drink,
trying to stop the ship's resident tiger from breaking into your quarters
or suffering through Jinti's more enthusiastic course changes.
"Yeah, uhm, so, anyways. Welcome back to the Caly and all that, should
you need anything, lemme know, I'll be around on the ship somewhere,
messing up." Harlan replied beaten. If Grey had a word on his behaviour,
it wouldn't look good. And Harlan had enough on his plate with the brig
visit. Although rumors had it, one of the cells had served as shelter for
the McArnh couple, it was not confirmed yet. Harlan thought briefly of
asking Jinti about it, but that would have to wait.
"No I think thats everything, thanks." Zim paused, feeling slightly
guilty. Harlan's reaction had been fair enough...and Zim hadn't exactly
played nice either. "It's Ensign Zim anyways..." said Zim as way of
apology. He hadn't bother to correct Harlan in case his old rank gave him
some advantage. "Oh...I might need to get some more furniture." Zim had
stocked his up last time but some of it was rather frail, and knowing the
Caledonia it had probably had a bit of a rough ride since he'd been gone.
"Right you are" replied Harlan relieved. "Derlith, why don't you go along
with Lt...Ens. Zim and give him a hand with the scavenging. You know
Dereks quarters are off the scavenging list, too, which leaves monkfish
and decks 7 and 8. Anything else you need, Mr. ZIm?" he turned politely
back to the Ferengi.
"Nope. Thanks for the new code." Zim gave Harlan a polite nod and left.
As he walked away with Derlith by his side he sighed in relief. That
could have gone a lot worse.
Harlan watched the huge Andorian walking out the small Ferengi and waited
for the door to slid close. "Scrap that coffee, get me some Janx Spirit"
he muttered and placed the full cup back on the replicator tray. Then he
entered his own office, searching for that dark bottle hidden in the
backpanel behind his desk.
=/\= Bridge - USS Caledonia =/\=
McArnh entered the bridge suspiciously. Had Monkfish noticed the lack of
slug pellets in the stocking rooms? He suspected not, as most of the ship
was still in tact. It was time to leave Raven, before her impending wrath
could hit the base in all its glory.
He eased into the chair, over-comfortable, and tried to settle back into
it. After a while he found that it was indeed welcoming. His muscles
soaked in the warmth of the leather-bound luxury and his hand slipped
down the side, to where an innocent-looking fridge door was concealed by
a command access pad.
He entered the code and it swung open. Nobody had found his whisky there;
they'd have to commit some excellent decryption to do so. It was well
protected. He touched the hip-flask there residing and closed the door
again.
Where was Monkfish when you needed a decent cup of coffee?
Suicide Cat batted at a loose conduit casing, left untouched by Raven's
repair schedulists. Apparently they had not made it as far as the bridge.
Holodiscs of Larry the Lemur, sticky liquorice sweets and other bait
devices still littered certain sections.
Was that, or was that not, a section of chewing gum stuck to the
underside of the plaque? McArnh's face contorted into a brief frown.
"Wretched juveniles," he uttered for the hundredth time, before
concentrating back on his monitor.
"Raven to the USS Caledonia. You are cleared for departure."
"Funny, you make it sound more like an order than an invitation," McArnh
turned back happily. "Very well, we'll be off. Do thank Commodore Hawk
for having us. It was a most pleasurable stay - at least for the last
twelve hours."
"I'm sure she will convey her joy at having you back again, too," came
the voice from the other end.
"Excellent. In that case, we'll be off." He nodded to the helm. "You
might want to have some caution at your end as we leave, too. The
Caledonia has a funny habit of causing turbulence when it arrives and
leaves a place."
He wanted to warn them about any religious buildings in the vicinity, but
refrained.
"I'm sure we'll manage. Your new course is confirmed and your departure
vectors set. Godspeed."
The last word was made to sound like a chore.
The continuous bump and grind of a ship leaving spacedock - a noise most
Caledonians were used to - filled the air of the bridge. Suicide Cat felt
movement and yowled. New pleasures, new pain awaited it away from Raven,
where it had been overly well-treated. It needed new motivation.
And funnily enough, there was McArnh's leg.
"All crew DAMN YOU CAT!"
McArnh tapped his comm again. "All crew, that was a test." He coughed,
and magically, the hip-flask was in his hand. Funny, he hadn't remembered
opening the fridge. Perhaps it sensed when the Commander was in need and
responded accordingly.
"We are now departing Starbase Raven, en route to the location of the
Zanzibar. All departments, prepare itineraries of what you're missing. We
may be able to raid a large portion of this ship, if it permits, to aid
our cause. Security and Tactical, I would rather we weren't ambushed in
any way; run some scans and make sure that we will be safe. A tractor
beam may well be useful, too. Operations, get our cargo transporters
online. Engineering, hold the ship together. Miss Monkfish and Mister
Farlak, prepare our storage space for incoming supplies."
"And Jinti...get us there as soon as possible, and remember that we have
new crew on board." He smirked evilly to himself. "Act accordingly.
McArnh out."
A beep flashed up on his console. "Yes?" he asked it.
"Raven here again. Sorry to say, Commander - but you took off rather
quickly, and you appear to have left your Counsellor behind. One Ensign
I'lilium?"
Grey racked his brain. "Bugger. No chance you can send him on a shuttle?"
The man's eyes thinned. "You still owe us two of those."
McArnh assessed, quickly, how much they might need a counsellor this
mission. Hopefully it would be little. With his right hand he fiddled
with some wiring, causing a mild blurring effect on the screen. He
squinted.
"Ah - sorry - yu - breaking up -"
He yanked the cord out, thereby ending the transmission. He leant back
with a happy sigh. He'd fix that later.
=/\= Lower Fighter Bays - Starbase BoB =/\=
He had picked up something. Something to distract him, before that
something else started to creep back into his head. Dhillon shook his
head, attempting to busy himself with something useful. Wanting to kick
himself for having being pulled in. Arihana watched the globe spin; she
was lost in her thoughts. There was something therapeutic in just
watching the movement of the mass upon its orbit."It's stops, and it
stops now." The counsellor tucked the teal jersey into the waistband,
before tying the belt back up. "Are you listening?" It was quite pretty
really, you could even see the variation in the sea level, where the
surface of the seabed changed from turquoise to acquamarine."I'm talking
to *you*, Arihana."
The counsellor turned around, twirling the hair back into a plait. She
had been momentarily distracted from counselling. "It's stops, Dhillon,
when I want it to stop. Not a second before."
Dhillon arched a brow as she came to stand directly under his nose. He
should really tell her to back off, and vacate his personal space. He had
stuff to, should the green light be given for charters. Gerty was gonna
be good to go. Why was she still here, did she not have anything better
to do then him? Was there suddenly a shortage of fruitloops or something?
"That could be today, tomorrow, next week. Perhaps in three months when I
finally get bored. Besides, you could have said no. You didn't. How easy
that make you, Dhil?"
Damn. That two letter word.Dhillon put the fuel injector to one side,
drapping the oil skin over his shoulder. Looking down his nose at her, it
made his neck hurt. He could either pull in close, or he could tell her
sling her hook. She wasn't here just to make up. She had an agenda or
something. "This messing with my mind, it won't work. You can't win that
way."
He heard Arihana tut as he turned to the shuttle nose cone. Dhillon
rubbed the grease from his finger tips, unscrewing the nose cone. There
were tears in the titanium panels to be fixed. "Messing with me mind,
Arihana, will get you nowhere. I have a much higher score for
pathological sociopathy than you do."
"Dhillon..." The counsellors tone curled liked an elongated
hyphen.Dhillon looked at Arihana, as she leant against the entrance to
the cockpit. When she said his name like that, it made the hairs on the
back of his neck stand up. Don't give in, don't give in. Hold it.
"No. See I can say it."
Good lad. Well done, here's a biscuit.
Arihana absentmindedly, slid the cockpit door open. Causing Dhillon to
walk towards her and slam it shut. It was something of an empty gesture.
Press a button, and the door opened. Only Dhillon didn't quite see it
like that. That was one difference between the male and female brain.
"No. Now sling it."
He had said no. Twice. Only, there was that look. The look that said,
fine, you have no idea what I want. You've said no because you could, not
because you wanted to. Fine then, I'm going. Dhillon watched her slope
off. Slope off, and not even look back. Please, please, look back, he
thought. What ever you want, I'll say yes.
"Hold up, wait a minute."
Arihana had stopped by the viewing port on her way. Again, she was
entranced by it. "It's pretty, aint it. Looks lovely. The head honcho,
she's gone to check it out. See what's like. You might get a chance to
ferry civilans and such like. You'd make a mint. That's what I wanted to
say. That's all." Dhillon, like the audience, was probably lost. Arihana
had wandered on by, on some kind of olive branch exchange. He didn't have
a clue. She kept on pulling him in, and he let her. No, it was enough.
Despite what she said, it was going to stop. Now. He wandered over,
standing behind her. He didn't trust her to be here without a plan.
Dhillon was wary. It was time to stop it, stop his buttons being pushed.
"What you after?" Arihana didn't respond. "You come here to make your
peace, amongst other things. I'm confused. Even after all I've done. Why
do you keep coming back-and to me?"
Arihana hunched her shoulders, and turn around. Any closer, and buttons
would be pushed again. Turned around to face him. His nose was touching
the end of hers. His fists were clenching at his sides, Dhillon had no
idea what to do with them. "All I do is hurt you."Dhillon snatched his
hands back, back and around his back. "It wasn't meant to be missis, we
was like dynamite. Short and explosive." Feet. Why were his feet not
moving, moving back towards Gerty. "Don't love you, Arihana. Never have."
You liar, nose as long as telegraph wire. Liar, liar. Pants on fire.
Dhillon stepped back, and turned towards Gerty. Kicking a couple of
chocks out the way, a panel near to the cockpit was dented. "Go, get
lost. Come anywhere near me again, and I swear-"
What ever he was about to swear to, Arihana didn't hear it. She'd left.
She had no idea why she gone to see him. Maybe it was to make up; maybe
it was just to get her end away. He was lying about not-, that much she
did know. Arihana took the long way around. The long way around back to
her office. Gave her a chance to think. Think of how she was make this
time go by. The time between now, and then.
Dhillon could only rage. Push. Pull. Pull and push. They were going in
circles. She wanted him, didn't want him. He was not here to be jumped on
whenever Arihana wanted. It was her who had called time, why had he tried
to make amends, this was what you got. What you got for, for, for...it
was over. That was it. No more having his buttons pushed, no more asking
how high when she asked him to jump.
Arihana dumped herself behind her desk. It would take some doing. The
plan. But that was for a while; Arihana had time, time to plan how she
was going to cope. Cope with the consequences. Arihana had a life to
lead. A life that was independent of Dhillon. She would do her best, and
live it.
Dhillon slammed shut the door to the cockpit, kicking something. He was a
free agent, unattached and available. He could do what he like, when he
liked. And he would.
=/\= Outside Siyana III Residence - Starbase BoB =/\=
He never should have done anything for that Captain woman, never, never,
never, Frank Palmice repeated over and over, slowly shaking his head to
himself. How could he have been so stupid? Did he make a mistake
somewhere? It seemed to make so much sense, over the last episode of
sorts what they experienced with the negotiations and the murder...Just
do this little thing, and get a bump up, some extra pay, all good and
nice. And now what? He maneuvered himself into the picture, stuck out
when he should have kept his head down. He was breaking the laws by which
he lived.
She wanted him to actually come down that planet! With an away team!
There was a reason why he was glad to be off a starship, and away
missions to alien planets was a whopper. God knew there had been too many
planets he had visited in his days as a mercenary. Too many damned balls
of dust, watery worlds, icy wastelands and even rocky, lifeless chucks of
planetoid that was use to someone. And on every last one of them were
usually some bloody locals being a nuisance, making a fuss about unwashed
the new mercenary neighbors coming to pat them a visit. In the end, and
it always did end the same, it came to violence. Of course, in Franks
book, *everything* ended in violence, sooner or later; that was the way
of the universe.
Oh, well, Frank finally shrugged, and came to his senses. He would go
down alright, even though he did not have to like it. It was kind of
figuring out the odds; most of the team were either physically less
capable than him, or more high-up, meaning he'd not only be better fit to
make a run for it, when things went south, but he'd also be a less likely
target. That was somewhat comforting.
Having still to do some work on BoB was comforting too. Together with
Tony and Fred Petrolli, he responded to a call of a burglary at one of
the richest civilians who for some reason lived on this forsaken place.
There had to be a tax scam in there somewhere, Frank pondered. Maybe
inspectors of the Federal Internal Revenue Service did not even know of
its existence - he couldn't rule out that possibility. Fred Petrolli used
a brass knocker on a rather splendid door with laid-in wood. Actually,
the whole corridor, just outside these quarters, were extraordinarily
clean and bright lit.
If anything, Frank did not look forward to days he had to work with the
Petrolli brothers. Their conversations alone would drive a man insane.
Impatiently listening to their talk about why one liked tomatoes, when
they were just a little too ripe, so the juice would just come out of it,
when you pushed it, Frank tapped his foot and almost lit up his eyes when
the door opened.
"Yes?" a tall figure inside asked, keeping the sliding door on the chain,
peeking to the three strange men outside his doorstep from between the
crack.
"Security business, sir," Tony pitched in, showing his credentials, along
with his brother and Frank - who was the lowest in rating of the three,
so took naturally the lowest spot in the pecking order. "We have a report
of a burglary last night?"
"Burglary?" the man looked confused now, but shoved the chain aside
anyway. "Burglary?" he asked again, disbelieving or lost in thoughts.
"You must be mistaken, gentlemen, that was not here. Perchance it was
with one of my... wretched neighbors? They are more like the kind of
people who are subject to visits of low-lives coming to rob them," the
man smirked. "Oh, I do apologize," he said, stepping aside. "Come in,
officers. I am Richard Siyana III. Mr. Siyana will do," he chuckled as
lightly as a sunbeam on a cloud.
"Hahaha," laughed Fred with him, as fake as he could muster, which caused
Siyana to glare at him callously. Meanwhile, Frank and Tony pressed past
the man, stepping into nothing short of a small palace. Inside, the floor
was made up of wood, with white painted or covered furniture scattered
about, looking like they popped straight from a mail order catalogue. The
wallpapered walls were decorated with pictures, the odd painting, and
large bookshelves and display cases.
"A very nice place you have here," Tony noted merrily, looking around.
Frank glanced at him suspiciously as Siyana instead looked happily to his
colleague, not sensing what Frank was sensing. "A very nice place
indeed."
"You think so?" Siyana said, with the air of superiority people
always had. Frank took a good look at the man; a bit too short,
fat, a bit too bald, and trying to cover all those aspects that
Bah. Frank despised the man. "It's just a little Pied-a-Terre I
here."
like him
a bit too
made him.
keep
"My, is that a real Van Gogh?" Fred asked breathlessly. This comment
broke Siyana's contempt of the man, and made him hurry over to where Fred
was admiring the painting. As if he knew what a painting was if it bit
him in the ass. He just took one look at the massive frame, and spotted
value when he saw it.
"Oh! The security-man is a connoisseur!" Siyana spoke up cheerfully,
clearly happy to be sharing his fondness for art, especially as he kept
this one on his wall, where no-one ever but himself and his probably
stuck-up friends could see it. This must be like a new admirer coming to
his house - of course he was taking the bait like a greedy fish. Frank
just felt sorry for the man. "Its the Red Vineyard, of course, 1888,"
Siyana continued happily. "Did you know this is the only painting Van
Gogh actually sold during his lifetime? Extraordinary, no?"
"Indeed," Fred agreed, nodding with his mouth pulled down in a smile. He
looked to Siyana. "We'll have to take it. Tony! Can you wrap it? Just
fold it."
"Wh- I- You- Th-," Siyana stuttered suddenly, franticly moving his arms
and hands, a panicky look on his face. "You can't take it! Stop it!" Fred
was making ready to take the framed painting off the wall. "No! Stop! Why
are you taking it?!"
"You were robbed, sir," Tony informed Siyana. "We have to make sure
nothing was taken unnoticed, and replaced. We take the painting, and have
it checked by our science department for authenticity."
"And some of these other things," Frank helped now, walking over to an
extraordinary display case that caught his attention. In it were a number
of weapons on display, with small labels next to it. They were all oldfashioned style projectile weapons. 'Mannlicher-Carcano, 1940, used in
J.F. Kennedy assassination', one tag read to the oldest and largest
weapons around. Whoever that Kennedy fellow was anyway. "We have to take
these too," he said with a grin, looking up.
"What- no!" Siyana uttered, still fussing more about his priceless
painting. It made Frank wonder if there were people who knew that there
was this kind of artwork just hanging here for grabs. "Please don't take
my painting!"
"Sir, we have to process it carefully, that can take time," Fred
explained. "We will look after it properly, though the environmental
controls in our safe storage area are not quite up to spec..."
"Oh! Please don't take them! Can't I...have the checking done here?"
Siyana asked, with a stroke of genius.
"Well...," this had Fred wavering. "We have to process this seriously, of
course - for your own good, sir."
"Of course!" Siyana nodded frantically.
"You know, sir, Security is seriously understaffed and underpaid - we
should process this as swiftly as possible, and if you want to have it
done at home, someone has to come by after hours...No. No, I'm sorry, we
just can't do that."
"Oh, but you must!" Siyana said, "Not the picture. I will...reimburse the
officer coming to check the painting. For sacrificing his free time to do
me this favor," he added, licking his lips. "Would 200 credits do?"
"Sir! Are you bribing us?" Tony spoke up, startled. "Some of our
colleagues have real businesses next to their normal job, running a
private investigation office, or alike. There are Starfleet regulations
to be observed here, union wages, insurances, emergency call-"
"2000?" Siyana tried, desperately.
"Should we- Ah, alright, sir," Fred smiled, ceasing attempts to remove
the painting. Siyana laughed nervously, relieved. "How about you give me
the money, and I will see if we can even speed up the process to the
point that no-one has to come here? Maybe the detective can just rubberstamp this, and make it go away, as, like you say, nothing happened
here?"
"Oh, excellent, excellent!" Siyana said, smiling his small teeth,
crawling like the turd he was.
"We still have to take the pieces of weaponry, sir," Frank said,
relentlessly, his eyes fixed on a 23rd century Colt 11mm Kinetic,
identified as the 'last projectile weapon made by Colt'. Its robust
design, lightweight frame and plain masculinity stood in contrast to the
usually relative flimsy looking phasers.
"Is that really necessary?" Siyana asked, without much afterthought.
Frank figured the man was happy enough he still had his picture.
"Oh yes," Frank smiled, lifting the top off the case and collecting the
weapons in a bag. "You have munition with- ah," he spotted it and grabbed
a stack of boxes, putting them away too. He only took a few smaller guns,
leaving the older larger ones.
"Uh...please be careful with that," noted Siyana, at the bag where they
were all grouped in together now. "Those are invaluable, you know." His
eyes shot worriedly to Frank, holding the bag. Shaking the bag a little,
its contents rattled rather jolly.
"We'll take good care of them," Fred responded, from behind their victim,
counting the slips of latinum he received in a pouch. "Goodbye, mister
Siyana." The three security men filed out of the living quarters, the
others bidding their goodbyes too. Inside, they left a mesmerized man,
who started to wonder what just happened. At their back, the exclusive
door closed shut, separating them from him.
"Here, your share," he said, passing on some of the cash to Tony, who in
turn handed a much lighter sum to Frank. Looking around to see no-one was
here, Frank took the money and pocketed it. The IFC still had to come
through with what he won at the tournament, something with problems with
more privileges attached to having won, whatever that was supposed to
mean. Maybe he made just 200 here, but that was good enough for now. He
smiled at his bag. Most would return to the owner quite soon, minus a
little misplaced and subsequently lost weapon, along with the sincere
apologies of the Security department, of course.
"What are the bookies running on chances are away-team members will die
down there?" Fred asked interested, as they walked off to the nearest
turbolift.
"Last time I checked that was 2 to 1," Tony smiled. "I hear on personal
betting level, best survival chances marked on that Marine guy Vaughan, 4
to 1. I don't think they know you that well, Frank. I got myself some doe
on that Parvis guy buying it," he chuckled. "He's the front runner, at
odds of only 1.5 to 1, in category serious maiming or death. Almost a
sure hit, I reckon?"
The others nodded in agreement. Better him than me, Frank thought.
=/\= Vaughan's Office - Deck 124 - Starbase BoB =/\=
Cade glanced up at the knock on the edge of his door. Through the
opening, he could see Frost and her proteges lined up. He lifted a hand
and beckoned them to come in.
Angel had lined up her three infiltration trainees neatly, and was giving
them a final glance-over. She wasn't pleased at being left out of the
initial mission orders- her face was showing a definite sulky pout - but
as with most things that displeased her she affected a martyrs air.
As she saw Vaughan beckong them in she just uttered, "move," and they
filed in to stand at attention in front of his desk. Tennant, Ecclestone,
Pertwee. The three stooges she nicknamed them, though they were all
showing promise.
Davey Tennant was small and wiry with a cheeky wide-boy air about him.
But she had seen the chirpy joker of the pack change quicker! than it
took to click her fingers from laughter and glib remarks to serious,
deadly warrior.
Chris Ecclestone was tall and solidly build with close cut black hair.
Despite his size he was fast on his feet, and his face had a pugilistic
charm, enhanced by a large, oft-broken nose. He, too, could be a
smartmouth, but had a sharp mind and could pull random ideas out of nowhere - ideas that usually worked.
Jonno Pertwee was the quiet one. 'Gentleman Jon' or just 'The Gent' was
his nickname, probably coined by the shock of prematurely white hair that
fuzzed his scalp. He was surprisingly well spoken, and had a reserved
attitude of mild amusement about him.
"Reporting as ordered, sir," she announced.
"Stand at ease." Cade leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers
behind his head. "Okay, you all want to know why I left you off of the !
Away Team planning and contingency listing, right?" He didn't wait for an
answer. "Simple reason is that I want this to be a training situation for
you."
"Training, sir?" Angel's brain clicked into place. Training..."as in,
training fully, with all the trimmings?" A smirk appeared, "In other
words, whilst it would be inproper to sanction undercover infiltration
missions at this early stage of negotiations, if it's just a training
mission then it's more the purview of the Marine CO than station command.
And if our training session is played for real - down there - then who
knows what we might discover?"
He knew at that point that putting Frost in charge of the infiltration
team had been the right call...for all of her arrogance, she was smart
and intuitive. The patience that would make her a superb operator would
come in time. "Yes, a real time exercise. You will all have cover
documents, play! those roles to the best of your ability, and report back
the intelligence that you've gathered on your specific targets." Cade
slid open a drawer and took out a large packet of padds, ID cards,
library memberships, shuttle licenses, and various other documents that
would support the legend that they were about to assume.
There was a little
grins appearing on
or not, they would
privately imagined
sparkle
faces be down
getting
of interest in four pairs of eyes and sly
even Angel's. This was the real-deal. Training
there, doing the job - and every one of them
valuable information that no-one else could.
Angel's thoughts were more tempered by logistical caution, but even she
lost a little of her customary sang-froid as she looked in anticipation
at vaughan.
He grinned at the enthusiasm apparent on their faces. He'd had the same
look on his the first time that he'd developed a false identity. It was a
th! rill tinged with fear of the unknown and the absolute belief that you
were going to be the best undercover agent the galaxy had ever seen.
"Okay, Frost. Yours is last. I've got something special for you, but as
team leader, you get to pick who goes first."
"Alphabetical order, sir. Ecclestone, Pertwee, Tennant and then myelf."
"Fine. Lance Corporal Ecclestone, you are now Cameron Mitchell, long in
the employ of DeBeers Global, LLC as a courier." Cade slid his hands
through the packets and pushed one toward him. "Short version is that you
are paid to personally oversee the transport of the more valuable
gemstones and precious metals that DeBeers uses to grace the fingers and
necks of the lovely ladies of Earth. Your target is economic. Determine
what their currency base is, how their banking system works, chief
exports and imports, etc. Questions?" ! ; "Loveley ladies, eh, sir? Got
no questions there." Ecclestone's mouth quirked into a grin. "Yessir, I
can do that. I'll have 'em eating out of my hands. Merchants and
jewellers, that is, of course," he gave a lift of his eyebrows and picked
up the legend.
"Good. Next up is Lance Corporal Pertwee." Cade tapped his fingers on
another packet. "Jonno, you're going to need a little bit of make-up and
a visit to wardrobe. You are, as of this moment, Jonathon O'Neill the
Fourth, of the Boston O'Neill's, of course. A retired investment banker
who was better at banter than banking. Your target is cultural.
Infiltrate the upper levels of Felim society if you can. Glean
information on any caste or class distinctions, poverty level, art,
music, and in general how the idle rich pass their time. Questions?"
Pertwee nodded thoughtfully, "No sir, not right now. I do hav! e a
cousin, works somewhere in the City," he meant London but didn't say. As
far as Jonno was concerned, there was only one 'City' in the galaxy and
he saw no need to explain further. "I can probably recall a few tips and
tricks, a bit of the language," his voice had become more of a cultured
drawl even as he spoke. "I shall rather enjoy mingling with the hoi
polloi," his cornflower blue eyes twinkled. "Thank you, sir."
"Now then. Oh, congratulations on your promotion to Lance Corporal,
Tennant. Can't have a PFC gallivanting around the countryside as Daniel
Jackson, a junior Interpol detective on assignment to BoB to pick up a
fugitive. Mr. Gamble has graciously agreed to back your legend in this
regard. Your mission is to evaluate their legal system and law
enforcement practices. A rather broad topic, but let's see what you can
do with it. Questions?"
"WooHoo," the irepresssi! ble Tennant scooped up his papers. "Nice one,
sir. I can pull that off. I've had a bit of experience in that department
myself. Wrong side of the fence o'course, but all the same. Hell yeah,"
he tipped an imaginary felt hat, then coughed and straightened. "Nossir,
no questions at this moment."
"Okay, let's see, last but certainly not least..." He fanned through the
documents and came up with a handful with a large grin on his face.
"Congratulations, Corporal, you are now a commodities scout in the employ
of Arzak Imports and Exports of Orion Prime. Officially, your job is to
find new goods to import for your company. Unofficially, your job is to
expand the Arzak Cartel's black market reach. You will be gathering
intelligence on their economy, both legal and illegal, and if you can
find any government officials ammenable to bribery, then so much the
better."
"Orions, sir? Aren't we illegal around here? Though, *they* won't know
that, of course," she nodded, her brain racing. "Do I need to look Orion?
I can book in for skin colouration, if the medical facilities here are up
to it, and as far as I recall there should be no need of facial
reconstruction."
"No, you don't need to look Orion, Frost. Arzak I & E is a legitimate
company that actually does business in the Federation, but is a known
cover for the pirate cartel. No one's been able to prove it, though. And
they have numerous human employees, so Ms. Samantha Carter is not unusual
in that respect." Cade sat back in his chair again. "Now. This is all
dependent on the Away Mission. If the Felim turn out to be wolves in
sheep's clothing, then there will be no civilians going to the surface
and you will return to your status as Marine Infantry to fight the good
fight."
"Asuming that the Away Team mission comes back positive, the whole
station will be trying to get lifts down to the surface. Request
permission to book transport as a priority?" Angel was mentally ticking
off preparations.
"No need." Cade pointed to the padd's. "You a! ll have priority booking
already based upon your status and/or bribes that your alter egos may
have placed."
"Aye sir. And..." she looked at her three team members, "Also, request
permission to book these boobies in for follical enhancements. Their hair
screams 'marine' - even if the Felim don't know what a marine is, they'll
sniff military about them. It shouldn't take more than twenty-four hours
to grow an inch and then it can be re-styled to look civilian."
Cade grinned again. "See Corporal Kresha for that. I believe he lifted
the equipment you're requesting during his last rota in the Infirmary."
"Thank you, sir. And, request light duties for next twenty-four hours to
give us time to study the legends," she nodded to the false
documentation, "And test each other until we *are* those identities."
"Permission granted. In fact, I will advise! Master Guns Canowicakte to
remove you completely from any scheduling." Cade thought for a moment.
"And just in case the Felim try to do to us what you are trying to do to
them, I'm going to scrub your records from the marine database, any
images at least, and starting tomorrow morning, I suggest you all find
civilian quarters commensurate with your covers."
"I'll handle that," Angel was on a roll and anxious to impress.
Cade pointed a finger that took in the loads that they were holding in
their hands. "There are FedBank account cards in there. They are real and
attached to real accounts. The money is also real and there will be
strict accountability of it, which means, you keep the expeditures to a
reasonable.
I will be reviewing the actions on the cards every day, and if I find
something that is out of the ordinary, then I will give you a chance to
explain. If I find a 20! 00 credit purchase at the Felim House of
Pleasure and Leather Emporium, then I will not only yank you off the
planet, but you will find yourself on the receiving end of an Article 32
hearing and a Dishonourable Discharge. Have I made myself clear on that
account?"
There was an audible 'click' as four backbones snapped even more ramrodstraight than before. "Sir yes sir," came the conditioned response to the
tone of authority. A few eyes flickered, maybe it wasn't going to be
quite the jolly holiday after all.
"Good. Now that I've put the fear of me into you, let's go with the fear
of God. We do not know what the Felim are like or how they will react if
you are discovered. In a real life mission, you would be disavowed." Cade
let that sink in for a moment. "However, here, I will do my damndest to
secure your release and to cover your actions. If they have a law that
says to shoot sp! ies on sight, though..." There was no need to say that
it would impossible for a rescue in that situation.
They all looked rather grim, but then relxed again slightly. "Understood,
sir," Frost was still spokesman. "But I don't think they'd want to make
such a bad impression right off," she tried for levity. "Besides, we
won't get caught," she looked at the team. "Not on my watch." Turning
back to Vaughan she asked, "Procedures, sir? Reporting frequency?
Control?"
"Consider this a deep-cover, short-duration assignment. You will not have
Control Officers that you report back to on a regular basis. Whenever it
is appropriate, as in whenever your civilian permit is up, you return to
the station and discretely report in. If possible, make several trips
back and forth, vary the length of stay on the planet, do whatever the
other civvies are doing while still accomplishing your intelligence
gathering.! Here endeth the lecture. Any more questions?"
"No, sir," Angel answered for them. "We'll get sorted, get started, get
learned and get practising. Any questions that arise I shall collate and
bring to you promptly." She tapped the packaet against her hand. "And
we'll be on the first shuttles down, if it all pans out. I'll go first,
with Jonno. Ecclestone and Tennant can take later flights. We'll all be
separate individuals and maybe meet up in persona down there. Ideally get
some of *them* to introduce us to each other where our fields cross, if
neccessary."
Cade nodded his head in agreement, letting the crew think through what
they were going to have to do.
"Actually, there was one question, sir," it was almost an afterthought
but she added it anyway. "Does the captain know about this? Captain
Mulder, I mean?" she detested even saying that woman's name. "In case
there are any questions, is all?"
"The notifications that may or may not have been made do not concern you,
Frost." Cade's face, and tone, were unemotional and stern. "All you need
to know is that you've received your marching orders from me and your
chain of command goes directly to me and nowhere else. Am I clear?"
"Understood, sir. No further questions."
"Good. Dismissed, troopers. Go kick some ass." Cade watched as the filed
out and grinned evilly. Mulder was going to have a hissy-fit when she
found out. If she found out.
"Ten Things I Hate About You"
=/\= Evening - Mulder's Office - Starbase BoB =/\=
Mulder's office was in semi-darkness, with just the desk light on to read
by. But this evening the light was stronger than normal, with the
reflective oceanic lights of the Faylinn homeworld below to bring an
extra soft sheen into the room.
Her work was finished, for the moment, and the arrival at her door was no
surprise. For several hours now, she had half anticipated it.
"I was wondering when you'd show up," Mulder sat impassively behind her
desk. "I expected this."
"Really," Cade asked with a surliness in his voice.
"Yes. Little things," she swung the chair around and stood up, "I know
you too well by now. You're here to have an argument, aren't you?"
"An argument implies two sides to an issued, Captain. I only see my
side," he said belligerently. "And one-sided means ass-reaming, not
argument."
"I hope you're prepared, then, because I've got a whole shed-load of
things to say to *you* too."
"ME!?!?!?" Cade's face was nearly purple. "What in holy hells do you
possibly have to unload on me?"
She looked at him, feeling the anger start to re-ignite inside her.
"Well, here's the first thing. You want to yell at me? You can't. You
don't have that right. Only my XO has a right to disagree strongly to the
point of yelling, and you're not that. So..." she snatched up something
she'd had ready on her desk.
"See this? It's an Acting Major's rank badge." She held up the gold slash
of metal with a cutaway oak leaf up to the dim light. "I'm going to stick
it on you and appoint you my XO for the duration. And then, when our
argument is over and we've stopped yelling, I'm going to fire you from
the job, and you'll throw the rank insignia back at me, and everything
will be as it was before. Except I won't have to slam you for
insubordination. Right?"
He looked at it and couldn't resist saying, "Only an Acting Major? Been
there, done that. I would think that an XO would be an Acting Lieutenant
Colonel at least."
"Screw that, it's all I could find and I can't be assed to get a new
one," she snapped at him, half throwing, half shoving the self-magnetic
insignia onto his collar.
Glaring at him, she began, "Right. By-the-powers-and-authority-vested-inme-as-CO-of-this-base-I-now-appoint-you-Ex\ ecutive-Officer-at-the-rankof-acting-major" she rattled off in one breath, stood back and folded her
arms. "Right. Protocol satisfied. Now what's on the agenda, Number
*one*?" she snapped, sarcastically.
"Okay, so an argument it's going to be," he snarled. "Rank before
insight, so go ahead, Captain."
"Right," she launched in, "What in the HELL did you think you were doing
bloody STALKING me to that restaurant last night? How DARE you treat me
as if I were a child!"
"WHAT!?!?!?!?" The look on his face conveyed one emotion and that one
very clearly...his intense desire to wrap his hands around her throat in
nowhere near a manner that could be considered intimate.
"You heard!
followed me
were bloody
practically
I don't for one minute think that was an accident. You
there, and you arranged for all those little incidents - you
eavesdropping and I expect you had the place bugged. That's criminal."
He practically laughed in her face. "That's preposterous! There's no way
anyone could bug Universal Exports without Dominic serving them up as the
next sausage platter."
"Are you going to deny it? I can prove it, probably. So much for trust.
So much for freedom. What the hell were you THINKING?"
"What was *I* thinking? What about you? Did you actually think that I'd
let you fall on our collective swords?" He snorted, "Because if you did,
you obviously don't know me half as well as you think!"
"So YOU decided that *I* would have to play things YOUR way, did you? I
am NOT some bloody puppet in the great Vaughan Stage Show. I am NOT some
starlet in the great Vaughan Movie Company. I do NOT get told what to you
by YOU!"
"Isn't that the point? Nobody tells the Great Mulder what to do! She just
does what she bloody well pleases, whenever she bloody well pleases..."
"What's this bug up your ass? Why are you so pissy? Hurt your feelings
because I don't tell you every last damn thing I decide to do with my
life, is it? Well, I don't answer to YOU, Vaughan, in case you hadn't
noticed."
"Oh, is that a fact? Maybe it's because you destroyed every reason that I
had to trust you, Captain," he just as angrily declared. "Or maybe it
just slipped your mind to let me know that you were planning on
confessing to crimes that you didn't commit."
"That's MY business, not yours, and MY private decision. I didn't tell
*anybody*...well, I didn't tell you because I *knew* you'd go off on
one."
Flames nearly shot from his nostrils. "But you could tell Palmice? The
Technician from Security gets to know the Omnipotent Mulder's plans, but
the Marine Detachment Commander, well, he's just shit outta luck, ain't
he? He can find out third hand when it's almost too late..."
She advanced on him a few steps. "Where do you get off on trying to take
MY decisions for me? If *I* want to do something professionally for
*your* benefit, then that's MY call. Stop sounding so bloody petulant. It
doesn't suit you."
"I'm not being petulant," he hissed through clenched teeth. "I'm trying
to talk some sense through that thick fekking skull of yours."
"You are, too. Wah-wah-wah...mean Miss Mulder won't tell me her plans,"
she spat at him, scorn dripping from every note. "Know what, Vaughan? You
are just SO damn arrogant."
"Arrogant? Me? That's the bloody pot calling the bloody kettle black to
be sure."
"Yes, Arrogant. Want me to spell it out for you? You like to know
everything about everybody and when you don't, it's like a personal
insult, isn't it?"
"No, it's not, you self-righteous pain in my ass!" He moved around the
desk about halfway. "I'm not the one in the room that feels the need to
play the fekking martyr so that everyone will feel sorry for her."
"Martyr? *Me*? Where the sodding hell did you get THAT notion from, you
jackass? What the bloody hell do you mean?" she yelled.
"Oh, poor Mulder. She took the fall for that bastard Vaughan. Oh, poor
Mulder. She got stuck with running BoB instead of a Border Patrol ship."
The corners of his mouth twitched evilly. "Oh, poor Mulder. Starfleet
found out she was sleeping with her XO and yanked him off the station..."
His hand came up to block the slap aimed at his face.
"BASTARD!" It was as well he'd blocked the slap as she'd aimed with more
force than she knew she had. "Don't you *dare* speak about Doctor
Jerillion in those terms. That was a cheap shot, you scumbag. You have NO
idea what it's like..."
"If you want to be so alone and play the loneliness of command game, then
I won't stop you, but I am going to speak up when you make decisions that
affect my life without so much as an, 'oh, by the way.'"
He took another step toward her. "You need to let someone else in,
Captain.
And I don't care who it is. Cadwallader, Naismith, Duqaq. Someone that is
outside of this chain of command that you can talk to and someone that
can knock some sense into that bony protuberance that you call a head."
She took a step forward too. There was no way he was going to steamroller
her on this. "Sense? You call what I'm doing senseless? You just don't
get it, do you?"
"What I get is that you are trying to protect me at the cost of your own
career, and possibly your freedom, when I. Don't. Want. Your.
Protection." He jaw took on a bullish cant that would have made Winston
Churchill proud. "Do you get that?"
Then something that was niggling at the back of her mind surfaced,
apropos of nothing. "And while I think of it, just how the hell did you
know about my plans anyway? Oh, don't tell me. There's only ONE person I
told absolutely everything to. I guess you Welsh just stick together,
don't you? Hardly surprising. Five million people, just five surnames."
"Resorting to insulting my heritage now? At least I don't come from a
planet where the inhabitants look like rejects from a goth rave." The
muscles along his jaw were starting to get sore from being clenched so
hard.
"You don't want to go there unless you're looking for a bigger fight than
you already have."
"And don't *you* insult *my* heritage, either. What I want to know is,
how the hell did you know I was dining *there*? Because that was a setup, right enough, and you can deny it all you like, but some sad cow or
slimy sod tipped you off. I didn't tell ANYONE *where* I was dining. You
asshole. You real grade-A asshole. You bloody set me up," she shook her
head in furious disbelief.
"Yes, I did. And yes, I am. And I would do it again in a heartbeat."
Clenching her fists to stop herself poking him in the eye she demanded,
"And just what the HELL would you have me do, eh? I. Gave. Orders. for
the interrogation to happen. So, you think I'm just going to wash my
hands of it all, act the little innocent girly and let the rufty tufty
boys take all the blame? Do you?"
"No, I don't!" He threw up his hands in exasperation and turned away from
her for a minute. "CHRIST YOU'RE IMPOSSIBLE!"
"Stop for just one Goddamn *minute* and put yourself in my place," she
yelled after him. "Imagine how YOU would feel if you'd given orders to
your men to do something that crossed the line, and then you let them
take the fall for it. Could you live with yourself? Could you ever look
anyone decent in the eye again?" She was still furious, but willing him
to understand. "And if you know *anything* about me, Vaughan, *anything*
at all - can you imagine me being able to live with myself after doing
something like that?"
"THAT'S JUST IT YOU BLOODY FOOL!" He whirled back around on her. "You
didn't order Palmice or me to cross the line. And you sure as hell didn't
order me to drive a pin through a suspect's hand and break his fingers to
make him start talking, so don't even think about pretending that you
did." He advanced another step. "All you did was tell us to get the
answers. How we went about it was our business. Were you vague? Was there
tacit approval for the methods I was going to employ. Yes. And you will
have to answer for doing that, but you will not answer for what I did as
well."
"Mine was the *worse* crime, you numbskull ignoramus, and all I wanted to
do was take the blame for something I could have *stopped* - no-one else
could have prevented it, so the blame lies with *me* - can't you SEE
that?"
"Yours probably *is* the worse crime since you were in command, but I
will be damned if you..." He stopped, hands resting on hips and head
bowed slightly. "You know what. You know me just as well as I know you, I
think.
You should have come to me."
"Maybe I should have. But I didn't. It works both ways," she said with
deadly calm. "When you discovered my plans, did you come to me? No. You
went behind my back in similar fashion. I *thought* we understood each
other, Vaughan. It seems I was wrong."
"All your talk of trust and respect. All for nought. You destroyed that
bridge of trust that we'd built when you went behind my back with this
plan of yours." He brought his head back up to look her in the eye. "And,
Captain, I would prefer it if you referred to me as Marine Captain or
Captain in the future." His feelings on the matter were laid bare.
There was a quiet intake of breath in the still room and she froze,
unable to believe his words at first. "I see," she managed to say,
turning abruptly away from him, but not before he must have seen the pain
that flooded her eyes.
Fixing her gaze resolutely on the planet below, she fought to regain
control, even though she felt almost physically sick at the way the bond
between them had disintegrated. *It wasn't enough for me to level the
playing field between us to argue freely, was it? You had to win the
argument as well, didn't you? Then you shall have your satisfaction. It's
not as if I have any choice in the matter now you have made the verbal
denunciation.*
Cold as ice, searing as acid rain, her next words sliced through the
tense atmosphere. "You have conveyed your complete contempt in such a way
that only a Jaz'Aarian could truly appreciate the depth of your scorn."
*And only a Jaz'Aarian could be as truly wounded by your words.* "You
appear to know me, and the ways of my people, exceedingly well," she
turned back to face him, "And I shall fully comply with your request."
Cade stared at her for a moment, dumbstruck, although it didn't show on
his face. Truth be told, he knew very little of her and even less of her
people.
"As you have unequivocally stated your wish to reject the Second Name
privilege then I am honour bound to respect that," she said, still numb
with hurt. "According to our most deeply held traditions, what is
rejected can never be regained or reinstated. Second Names may never
again be uttered between us without rank prefix. I am forbidden from ever
making the offer again in this lifetime, and will accept that you no
longer find me worthy as a brother-in-arms. So be it."
It took every effort of pride and dignity she possessed to kept her voice
level. He knew what it had meant in terms of trust and respect when she
first initiated it, back in the insanity of the inspection and murder
hunt. And now, he'd knowingly thrown it back in her face, dismissing any
chance of equal comradeship for all eternity.
As a Jaz'Aarian her heart wept. As the woman she now was, her heart iced
over. That was what you got for trying to treat a human as a Jaz'Aarian.
Her people had the right idea after all - avoid outsiders, they would
take everything you held dear and treat it as a disposable novelty.
"Please have a seat, Marine Captain. There are a few things I wish to run
by you," emotions shut down, her face was blank and impassive, her voice
cool and remote.
*So that's the way it's going to be? Fine.* "I prefer to stand, Captain."
He planted his feet at shoulder's width and folded his hands behind back
at the waist.
She turned the commconsole screen around so he could see it. Neatly and
precisely summarised were a list of the main points of procedure about
the investigation that MacCaffery had discussed with her the night
before.
"After speaking with the JAG officer, and realising that I actually had
far more input and influence in this investigation that I'd realised, it
was obvious to me that I didn't have such a good plan after all. Not that
I'd ever thought it was a *good* plan, per se. But it was the best I
could do."
"Hmm," was the only response that emanated from the marine officer's
impassive face. Thoughts, though, were streaking through his brain in the
neighbourhood of a supercomputer that alternated between being pissed at
her for being such a protocol whore and so mistrustful to downright irate
at himself for spouting off without considering the consequences.
Probably neither one of them bothered to notice that they seemed to bring
out the irrational behavior in each other.
"It's ironic, really, for one who prides herself on her knowledge of
military history, that I made the most basic of tactical errors." Her
voice was still bleak and remote, almost as if she were talking to
herself. "I drew up a battle plan without waiting for full Intel first.
Had I been wiser - or been lucky enough to have had a wise advisor - I
would have done a proper recon, like last night, and then conferred with
my generals in light of the information. Therefore in reality I can find
no fault with your losing trust in me." *I made a near-fatal tactical
error and I'm not afraid to admit it. It doesn't matter any more, anyway.
What is gone, is gone.* she silently added.
*Only a fool thinks he is wise. The wise know they are foolish.* For a
change, Cade kept the thought to himself lest she interpret as an
accusation rather than a compliment. "But you have the intelligence now
and it's not too late?"
"I don't intend to lose *this* battle," she tapped the screen. "I believe
there is now a better chance that I first thought for us all to survive,
with no tricks and no subterfuge."
"Really?" This time, Cade could not hide his disbelief. He had been
planning on reduction in rank and loss of pay and benefits as a best case
scenario. Which fact made him wince even harder at what he may have just
thrown away with his CO.
"We will make our statements, and you will own to everything you did and
I will own to my own culpability, no more and no less. Specialist Palmice
I will still protect as I have promised him. I will not renege on that.
But still, it will be a lesser crime. Then, when I am asked for my own
adjudication, I shall bring to bear all the documents I have been
assembling this evening from the Djelhi-Beybiis.
"Documents? You mean the wormhole treaty?" The contempt could not be
hidden from his voice; not for her, but for the ones that would value the
economics of the wormhole over all else, which got his mind racing on a
different tack.
"Yes. The wormhole treaty. The peace treaty. Their written commendations
on the way we handled the situation. Their willingness to be considered
for Federation membership thanks to our examples. Also, I have a small
holovid they brought with them for their own use, which they showed me
and I requested from them earlier."
"That's all well and good, Captain, but what about our current
situation?" He gestured with his chin toward her window overlooking
Faylinn.
"The planet isn't going anywhere immediately. Besides, I'm good at multitasking when I have to be. The holovid showed the tragic effects of
warfare, the orphans, the loss of life and limb, the cruel toll in
devastation - they said they wanted to watch it every morning to remind
themselves of what they were trying to achieve. I shall also present the
latest reports from their homeworlds. The guns are silent now, and
although the atmosphere is wary, it is clear there is a new hope. We
helped achieve that, and if that doesn't count as mitigating
circumstances, then I don't know what will." She took a deep breath, even
though she had only spoken slowly and quietly.
The 'Hmmm' this time conveyed much more, especially Cade's belief that
mitigating or no, he had crossed a line that shouldn't have even been
flirted with even though, in his mind, there had been no other way at the
time.
"Finally, I shall point out that whatever we
alive and healthy enough to tell their tale.
and circumstances greater than ours demanded
necessary. I shall also point out that there
high in the echelons of Starfleet itself who
did, the suspects were left
We acted out of desperation,
that we use all means
is the mysterious Commodore
instigated this."
"The Commodore," he murmurred. The rank itself had taken on a mythos of
evil for Cade and, by default, his entire detachment once they decided
that the Enforcer wasn't at fault for their CO's predicament.
"Yes. Therein lies the real villain, the real traitor to Starfleet. With
honesty, mitigation and circumstance, I believe we will get the fairest
result possible. Captain MacCaffery seems to be a reasonable man. Now I
understand the situation more, I am willing to take my own chances."
There was still no change in the remote, professional tone she used. It
was as if there was an invisible, unscaleable wall between them.
"There is only one thing that you might still want to consider, Captain."
Cade's vision was focused on a spot just above her head on the far wall.
"My understanding of miltary law is not perfect, but I don't think you
can judge yourself."
"Oh?"
"Meaning, ma'am, that if there are charges concerning you, then you can
not be the Convening Authority." He thought for a moment. "In truth, I
would have thought that Captain Cadwallader would be the Charlie-Alpha
since she was one that first reported the allegations."
"Possibly," she indicated a few notes on the screen. "If Specialist
Palmice goes ahead with his accusation, which I will not deny as I told
him to do it, then accrding the captain MacCaffery then the complaint
against me goes to Gamma Command to deal with. But, as you say there
might be a case to ask Captain Cadwallader to act instead. Knowing how
she feels about this matter and the Enforcer's unwitting involvement, I
am sure the result would be as positive as posible. And even if it went
all the way to Gamma Command, they were the ones that tasked us with the
secrecy and the mission, so in effect we were working with one hand tied
behind our backs. They will have a responsibility there also. So I should
have allies."
He shrugged. "Either way, Captain, seems we now have slightly better odds
of keeping our pensions." *Not that either of us really need them.*
"I believe so." She then switched tack, unwilling to spend any longer
than neccessary on the hateful isue that had torn them apart. "So, is
everything in hand for the Away Team tomorrow? You have your two people
chosen?"
"Yes, ma'am, I have. Corporals Finn and Kresha are my choices for the
Away Team." To head off the next question, he said, "Finn may not look
the part of a traditional marine, but the boy's brain is light years
beyond mine and I want his technical skills, especially with commo
equipment nearby. And Kresha, besides being a medic, at last count, could
fight a winning match in eleven different martial arts styles and he's
got a knack for languages." Cade smiled for the first time since coming
into the office. "And they both know when to keep their mouths shut and
when to pull the trigger until the power pack dies."
"I remember them both," she said, in brief acknowledgment of her time as
temporary marine CO. "And you have back-up teams for the shuttles?"
"Yes, ma'am. I'll have Master Gunnery Sergeant Canowicakte pick a team as
the Ready Reserve and I'll have Sergeant Bastian prep his team in case we
need covering fire during an evacuation."
"As well as yourself and the two visible marines I shall also have
Specialist Palmice from security. If rumour be true he is no slouch in
the fighting department either. I believe we shall be well covered.
Though, it will probably not be neccessary. I have a hunch that tomorow's
visit will go smoothly."
"He's a scrappy one to be sure, Captain." Cade was thinking of the recent
IFC bouts that had netted him a tidy profit. "As for tomorrow, I prefer
to think of the worst case scenario for the simple fact that this station
has been getting the sharp end of the stick ever since I came aboard."
The sentance made him sound like a bad-luck charm, but then again, maybe
he was.
"I'm not so sure. By the laws of statistics so far, *something* has to go
right for a change," a note of bitter resignation crept into her voice.
"Maybe," he said doubtfully.
"By the way, I think I shall wait until tomorrow before I fire you," she
said with cool casualness. "It would be better to be able to present an
XO, for unity's sake. They will be expecting it. I would rather they
understood from the word go that the heavily armed man they see is not
just hired muscle, but an officer with the right to start shooting on his
own recognisance. I might even give them the Duality of Command speech,
just to keep them on edge. It worked well with the Djelhi-Beybiis."
"If the truth doesn't work, dazzle them with bullshit? I've been an
Acting Major before, so I think I can fill the role for you adequately,
ma'am." He sighed slightly. "I'm going to tell my personnel to be ready
for trouble."
"I believe it is customary to regard them as hostile until they prove
different."
"Good." He was about to add something about them being on the same page,
but it was apparent to him now that that would probably not be the case
ever again.
She wondered, briefly, how this conversation wuld have gone had the past
ten minutes not have happened. Ten months worth of built-up trust
destroyed in just ten minutes. *I guess I'll have to find my own way to
Elysium now. Or maybe I won't bother. The exchange rate isn't so good and
I doubt the weather is all it's cracked up to be.* Her thoughts were kept
buried deep inside and she simply said, "Is there anything else we need
to consider regarding tomorrow?"
"I assume you're planning on keeping the pilots with the shuttles so we
can make an expeditious exit if needed?"
Mulder considered that point, "I had planned to take Lieutenant de l'Isle
along with the Away team, as it happens." She'd thought that with his
personal...experience...of less salubrious matters he might be a useful
pair of eyes for anything of that nature, but wasn't about to tell
vaughan that. "I'll ask him to take a second pilot for his shuttle." She
quickly made the comm call to Felix, keeping it short and sweet, simply
requesting a co-pilot for his own shuttle so he could attend with the AT.
"Done," she gave a curt nod.
"What about the Enforcer, Captain? Any chance they could fly top cover
for us while we're down there?" He quickly added, "Discretely, of course.
This station's defenses, while mostly formidable..." Don't even get him
started on the topic of the condom-shield..."...I would feel better being
able to add a starship's quantum torpedoes to our list of back-up"
"As would I. Fortunately, I have heard from Ops that there are apparebtly
no orbital defencesa hidden anywhere to trap the unwary, and have
requested that the Enforcer act as our sky-guards. I've also heard from
the Pendragon earlier, requesting stopover. They're three weeks ahead of
schedule there, but I suspect the lure of a planet might have something
to do with that..." any other time she'd have made a joke about BoB
suddenly becoming the most popular stopover for light years around, but
there would be no more jokes between them, not now.
"That's everything from my end. Anything else you can think of?"
"No, ma'am," he said with a sense of finality. "In that case, I have
nothing more for you."
*Ain't that just the truth* she thought angrily, but kept her face
expressionless as she said, "In that case, I shall see you tomorrow for
the Away Mission. Thank you...Major. Dismissed."
After he had departed with no more than an 'aye aye captain' she sighed
and allowed herseld to lean forward, rubbing her face through her hands
with her elbows on the desk, smoothing back her hair, as if by holding
onto her head she could stop it from feeling like it was going to
explode.
It was several more hours before she left the office to return to her
quarters.
=/\= Infirmary - Starbase BoB =/\=
StupidStupidstupidSTUPIDStupidSTUpid...
Shinandra could not think the word enough times to cover precisely what
she was feeling as she slunk in to the Infirmary the next morning. She
was torn on a terrible line between needing to talk to someone about it
and not wanting to talk to *anyone* about *anything*. Nandra had not been
hung over come the morning, but she might as well have been for how lousy
she felt.
"Stupid, stupid, stupid," she said out loud to herself, very quietly of
course.
Now, the woman had never been very good at this whole interpersonal
interaction thing, but she was *pretty* sure that sleeping with someone
was *not* a good way to tell them to back off.
Making it in to her office without any one noticing her, she tossed
herself in to her chair and slouched back against it as she turned on her
console and checked for any messages. Inwardly, she was continuing on the
same track as they loaded. She didn't blame Avery, at least not any more
than herself, and he had seemed sorry afterwards...but still! This was
not helping.
She was now twice as conflicted: her own actions didn't do much to say
'back off' - did that mean she didn't really want him to back off or just
that the lonliness had finally gotten to her?
"Bleck," she said, leaning forward and clicking off several messages as
acknowledged - they were typically reminders and what not, at least those
ones that managed to remember to remind and get put through. Some were
from Sandra and others were automated - again, at fate's whim entirely as
to if they arrived.
Lonely...yeah, she was feeling that one even more now than before. She
needed someone to talk to...yet there was no one. Cade...she'd probably
die of several versions of embarressment to broach it with him...There
was Lynn, who she'd talked to and was on terms enough with to be nice and
all, but just not enough there for *this* kind of chat...Captain Mulder
was nice, but that said it right there. She hardly knew the woman that
much and she *was* her Captain!
And the Counseling department...well, they just scared her. She'd be in a
much worse off state upon exiting than entering.
Tapping open the next message, she saw that she had a few actual
appointments on rotation. Some physicals and people feeling under the
weather, although that was sometimes a simple state of being around here.
She was sure there was a Hypochondriacs Union somewhere on this station,
although she had yet to find them despite numerous efforts to do so.
Preoccupied, she didn't even hear Sandra knock on the door frame.
"Doctor?" she asked.
Shinandra jumped and flushed, although luckily it wasn't too quickly
noticable with her darker skin. "Yes?" she asked, being as calm and
collected as she could possibly muster. A few minutes of conversation
ascertained that Nandra's first appointment was here and fifteen minutes
early. "Tell him to wait, I'm...doing something," she waved a hand. (The
temptation to have Sandra check for a Union badge was over-whelming.)
Work...There was work to be done and that would provide a good
distraction. Rubbing her eyes as if to clear them, she pushed herself to
her feet and got to work.
=/\= Outside Zim's Quarters - USS Caledonia =/\=
"Thanks Derlith. That chair should do me just fine." said Zim as he took
a squeaky swivel chair from the big Andorian.
As Derlith left Zim smiled to himself and began typing in his security
code. It hadn't been a bad scavenging trip. Derlith had filled him in on
the gossip and Zim had managed to get a chair just the right size for
him. Most of the normal ones has a tendency to dwarf him a little.
With a beep the doors rattled open and one or two of the lights inside
flickered on, and off and then finally back on again. As Zim stepped
inside he was struck by how shoddy it all was, and how it all felt oddly
like home. He had a quick look around. Luckily his quarters hadn't fallen
victim to scavenging. The quarters and the items inside had instead
fallen victim to time and Jinti's flying.
Here and there various chairs and and items had fallen over. One of the
legs on his desk had given way, sending the rickety model of the
Caledonia flying into a bulkhead. One or two of the stored bottles of
hooch had smashed and soaked some of the carpet. Zim wasn't worried
though, the contents of them had probably steralised the area.
Zim pushed the swivel chair to one side and through his travel bag down
on the bed. It only had a few clothes in and travel accessories.
Everything else he owned in the universe (except a couple of credits in
shares) was in this room. He didn't know whether to be depressed by that
or happy that he was back with all his belongings.
Either way, he'd be sure to do a complete inventory of them when he had
time. He was sure nothing would have been stolen but like most Ferengi he
found it quite theraputic to take stock counts. He'd probably make a
start right after his nap...
As he strode towards his bed though he felt a squish under his boot.
Peering down he found the remains of a tube grub! Zim had almost
completely forgotten about them. In the months he had been away they had
been left to fend for themselves here. Where were they?
A few minutes of searching, and few more squished grubs, led Zim to a
small hole in the far corner of his room. "That wasn't here before...I
definately remember my room being in more or less one piece when I left."
Bravely, or foolishly (take your pick) Zim reached into the hole. He was
shoulder deep and still hadn't found the end of it. When he pulled his
arm out again it was covered in specks of slime, dirt and the occasional
grub.
"A burrow...a self sustaining burrow..." Zim grinned from lobe to lobe.
"I'll never go hungry again!"
A few of the tube grubs had come out at the disturbance. Zim considered
them for a moment before picking up a rather long one and popping it into
his mouth. Chewing noisily he left the burrow and threw himself on his
bed. Just time for a quick nap before reporting in.
=/\= Deep in the Burrow - USS Caledonia =/\=
Times had changed since the orginal break for freedom by Zim's tube
grubs. The escape from the 'Bowl of Death' had dwindled their numbers and
caused them no end of suffering.
They ended up back in the 'Bowl of Death' and the constant terror met out
to them by the Orange Beast had continued. The healthiest and most
promising grubs and grublings were singled out. Leaving the weak and
frail.
But one day, out of the blue, the Orange Beast disapeared. When weeks
passed without the Beast's return the grubs rejoiced and began plans to
start like anew. They escaped the 'Bowl' and made the trek across the
'Carpet'. They spent many days travelling. Dodging the 'Hooch Swamps' and
'The Mighty Desk Mountain'. Finally they came to the edge of the Kingdom
of Zim and began to burrow. Once they had made a new home, and many
generations had passed, the journey and the reasons for it passed into
legend. Stories of the Orange Beast were just used to scare young
misbehaving grublings.
Until it returned!
=/\= =/\= =/\=
"My Queen!" Bobo the grubling squirmed into the Queen's court. "It has
returned! The Scourge! The..."
"Speak not the name!" cried the rather chubby Queen. All of the Queen's
cohorts trembled in fear.
"The time has come!" exclaimed the old high priest grub. He was so old he
could remember his father telling him tales of the crossing and the
'Bowl'. "The Scourge has returned. It must be appeased."
"No! Surely not! I will not sacrifce my subjects to that...thing." said
the Queen.
"But..." the high priest was cut off by the change in the light. A shadow
had passed over the entrance to the burrow. Slowly a long, orange arm,
reached in, pusing past the guard grubs. Hundreds screamed and squirmed
away from the terror.
"See! It is angry! It must be satisfied or all will feel it's wrath!"
warbled the priest.
The Queen sobbed, "Very well...send out some volunteers..."
A selection of some of the most noble and/or daftest grubs volunteered
and laid their lives on the line for the burrow. They squirmed out and
into the presence of the Orange Beast.
Time seemed to slow down as each of the grubs waited. Their lives flashed
infront of their eyes, from egg to grubling, to Beast reached down and
plucked one of the grubs up.
"Tell Clive to go on without meeeeeeee!" squealed the chosen one.
Back at the entrance the priest shouted to Bobo, "Don't look lad!"
The Beast turned and left. Taking with it the sacrifce.
All of the volunteers, Bobo and the priest entered the burrow.
"It is appeased...for now." Declared the priest.
The Queen sighed, "It will be back. We must burrow. If we go far and deep
enough, maybe we will find peace."
=/\= Pisces Delight - Promenade - Starbase BoB =/\=
Harpoon stormed into the shop, her face flushed with incandescent rage,
and sparking with a new piece of facial jewellery. She slammed four
coffees moodily onto the counter, splashing Algaenon with hot liquid.
Algaenon squealed.
"Harpoon, that hurt!"
"I'm gonna kill that miserable slimeball, that dirty encrusted black
viper, that coffin hugging necrophiliac!" raged Harpoon.
"Who's a necrophiliac?" Octopus enquired, looking up from a catalogue
with approximate interest.
"That - man - that - funeral director!" Harpoon took a vicious slug of
her coffee and ejected the lot a second later. "Man, that's hot!"
"There's a cloth behind the counter," said Stickleback helpfully.
"You mean Clive Casket? How d'you know he's a necrophiliac?" Octopus
asked, her mind working fast at the prospect of malicious gossip.
"Why else would he own a funeral parlour?" shrugged Harpoon. "Anyway, I
hope he chokes on his next corpse."
Octopus ambled over to collect her own coffee and fixed Harpoon with an
interrogative glare. "What's he done to upset you? Did he reject our
services? I wouldn't have advised you to approach him, looks like the
sombre type..."
Harpoon began unclipping and clipping safety pins at high speed. "I was
wandering down the Promenade, as you do, and I noticed that lizard
weren't in the shop - "
"You mean Blooming Lovely?"
"Oh, I like Blooming Lovely," said Stickleback.
"What about it?" Octopus pressed.
"Well I was gonna buy some flowers to dress up them pants - you know, the
Hen Night confetti pants, the ones that shed petals when you walk - you
know the ones - anyway the lizard weren't there, and then I noticed her
on her way somewhere, sort of busy looking, you know, and then I saw that
Southern Comfort woman headed in the same direction."
"And?"
"And, well, that might not have been fishy but others *weren't there
either*. Y'see what I'm saying?" Harpoon said impressively. "All the main
traders, they'd all hopped off to that miserable corpse trader's House of
Friggin Rest for some meeting without us. Without us! I followed 'em,
see, and I waited outside the Chapel and I listened at the door. They're
all planning stuff for the new planet! And he said he hadn't invited us.
Miserable sod!"
Octopus' eyes glinted at this audacity. "Rejected, once again, from their
vile and primitive society," she muttered. "You're right, Harpoon, they
got no right to shun us. Why, we trade better stuff than any of them. I
bet we make more profits! I bet none of them is as imaginative as us!"
"I'd like to go to the planet," said Stickleback.
"Getta suntan," contributed Algaenon.
"Bikinis," said Octopus. "Sexy Summer Selections for the Sylph like -"
she glanced at Algaenon. "And the not so sylph like figure."
"Sensual Salve," said Stickleback. "For easing newly tanned skin. Let
your partner soothe those aches and pains..."
"How about a beach version of the space hopper?" suggested Harpoon,
excited at the prospect of revenge on the Traders Guild. "Like a beach
ball...hey, what about a sort of volleyball net that isn't used for
tennis?"
"I think some of them blow up floaty things are nice," said Algaenon
dreamily. "Y'know, they used to make floatin whales and crocs and tyres
and swimmy things...Could drift for hours..."
"Floaty things?" scoffed Harpoon, but Octopus thought about this.
"A floating blow up Love Boat...a Love Boat equipped with everything
you'll ever need for a sexy afternoon on the seas...with pockets for
Sensual Salve, a bikini of your choice, *and* a beach ball space hopper.
Think of it girls!" Octopus' eyes grew wide. "And if there's more than
one of you...well...why not take the deluxe Love Boat? For up to - hmmm six people?"
"Six is a reasonable number," agreed Harpoon. "More than that it might
sink, 'specially if there's strenuous activities involved."
"We could offer our clients service in a Love Boat," said Stickleback.
"Love on the Love Boat!" declared Octopus. "Quick girls, knock up a
summer catalogue. This is going to make our fortune."
As happy at the idea of holidays on the beach as the prospect of annoying
Mr Casket, the girls set to work. Harpoon dreamed of Clive Casket's face
when she stabbed him with a safety pin. Stickleback dreamed of a man
wearing a snorkel mask who would identify her namesake off the side of a
Love Boat. Octopus dreamed of a new, larger, greater branch of Pisces
Delight on the new planet. Algaenon dreamed of ice cream.
=/\= Engineering - Starbase Raven =/\=
"No! No! No! NO!" the hapless crewman being shouted at by the just as
hapless Sagi cringed as he saw her coming at a run. "*What* do you think
you're doing?!?! Do you want to crash this base straight into the
*sea*?!"
Not that the engineer really expected an answer. Giving him a good shove
away from the console, she started tapping in instructions. It was nonstop, ever since she woke up the day before. Running here, and there.
Actually...it was non-stop ever since she stepped foot on this base, but
for the moment she was willing to curse just this past day.
This base wasn't *meant* to orbit a planet. She couldn't see why
everybody had such a hard time understanding this small, insignificant
little detail. Especially not a planet which wasn't orbiting anything
either. Finding the right point to be in order to establish an
orbit...why that was something the computer could do quite easily.
Brining the base over to the point...that's where it became harder.
For some reason, she was considered the expert around here. Having worked
on a planet which happened to have a base orbiting it, gave her,
apparently, the expertise needed to make sure this base wouldn't plummet.
"How are we doing, Lieutenant?" Mulder had walked straight in. Not that
she wanted to alarm anyone, but she could feel the station was a little
bit ...wobbly...the last few hours. "We don't need to evacutae or
anything, do we?" It was only *half* a joke...
Sagi wasn't in a joking mood at all. Seeing the CO appear next to her,
though, she managed to rein in whatever sarcastic reply she had in mind.
"For the time being the magnetic forces are not so strong that we're
being pulled in too fast, but we are being pulled in toward the
planet...unless we manage to get into orbit within the next 36 hours or
so..."
She was still typing in data as she spoke, but something caused her to
stop in mid-sentence, frown, look down at the PADD she had prepared, then
back at the screen. A quick look around Engineering and her gaze focused
on yet another crewman standing by a console at the other side of the
room.
"You!" She shouted loud enough to cause people to stare up, note where
she was pointing and get back to work. "Get away from that console!"
After the crewman complied, she turned back to Mulder. "You were saying?"
"Uhhh...run that last bit by me again?" Mulder was starting to look
worried now. "Unless we achieve orbit within the next thirty-six
hours...we crash, right?"
"Ah...yes. We will." Sagi tried to look serious, though actually, being
put that way it didn't sound as bad. They could evacuate ahead of time,
and be all safe and sound when Starfleet came around to save them all.
Definitely didn't sound too bad. Except that you didn't say that to a
commanding officer, especially not one who was starting to look a little
green.
"We've been working on getting the base moving...which, since it's never
been done at all, is quite a project. It seems most of the thrusters have
been stripped clean for spare parts." She smirked, managing to look just
slightly apologetic. "You know...Sir, since nobody ever thought we'll
need them?"
"Yeah...but then again, I guess the chances of us having to create a
stable orbit were fairly slim, so I suppose I can understand it." Mulder
looked thoughtful. "Still, bearing in mind our current record for
emergency evacuation is one hour and forty-five minutes - and that's
without a nice soft planet to land on and the Enforcer to help out, I
don't think we need to worry overmuch yet. I'm sure you'll manage..." she
tried to sound optimistic.
Sagi appreciated the vote of confidence, no matter how reluctant. She
definitely wasn't about to tell the Captain that she wasn't sure she knew
exactly what she was doing. "I'll do my best, Sir."
"I know you will." Mulder sounded more confident now. "Anyone's 'best'
around here, usually guarantees the job will be sorted. And don't be
afraid to use any methods, not matter how unothodox. So long as it works,
and doesn't kill anyone, then do whatever you think works, okay?"
The engineer smirked. "Aye, Sir." She had no idea what she was going to
do yet, but she was certainly going to try her best now. Especially now.
She had no idea why, either.
"Best of luck, I know you'll come up with something," Mulder assured her
with a grin. "And if you ask Lieutenant Omar for anything you need, I
know she'll manage to sort it somehow. She's very good at thinking
outside the box too - as I suspect you are too. I'm going to cross it off
my Worry List!" She gave her a reassuring smile and headed out to her
next appointment.
Sagi's smile just as the door shut behind the Captain's back. Sure... she
could make BoB orbit a planet. She was an engineer, right? A miracle
worker. She shook her head at the thought, then turned back to her
console.
=/\= Kasaki Mai =/\=
Three years she had been a resident of the blasted penal colony. Three
years...of which she was told that the sentence was light considering
what she did. In her opinion, her actions were justified. She honestly
thought that the men were responsible for murdering her parents. She
still did believe that even though they were found innocent. What a
crock! She thought. She should have finished them...she should have made
them feel as much pain as she did.
The pain never went away, not for a moment. It was constant, a reminder
of what was taken from her and she felt no justice had been brought other
than the small amount she inflicted before she was caught. Pausing for a
moment, her icy gaze was brought up to her arm that held a small scar
from where the knife deeply slashed her. At the time of the kidnapping,
she was not aware one of the men were armed. Placing her finger on the
old injury, she traced it, wondering if those two still had there scars
she left them with. You don't study the minds of criminals without
getting a few ideas yourself. That was the whole basis behind her
training, not to bring justice to everyone, just to two individuals.
Once she heard the light foot steps of the female guard, she
instinctively stood up from her bunk. Tugging on the new security
uniform, she smoothed over the rest of her appearance the best she could.
The containment field lowered. The guard entered.
"McAlister, I thought the day would never come." The guard shoved a small
duffle bag of personal effects at Savannah. She welcomed them, the last
remnants of what was a normal life up until three years ago. In the bag
housed beauty products, an extra set of clothes, and a data padd
containing a psychology book on the workings of the criminal mind. The
woman sighed outwardly, and for the first time, contentment washed over
her in a small amount.
"I'll escort you to the shuttle that will take you to the ship."
The ensign paused. "Well, wait...I'm supposed to be assigned to a
StarBase?"
O'Hare chuckled and attempted to stifle full laughter. McAlister cocked
her head in curiosity. "Uh, yes...if you can call BoB a StarBase."
The look of utter disappointment sank deep into her features. "BoB?"
McAlister replied meekly with a nauseating feeling rising up from her
midsection.
The guard smirked. "McAlister, did you really believe you would be
assigned to a real ship or StarBase? With your...history?"
"Yeah, guess so." The nauseated feeling was still present, but was
growing larger by the second.
"This way."
Savannah said nothing. She was attempting to reason why she would be sent
to a base with qualities such as StarBase Bob had been blessed with when
she just finished serving her time to erase her debt to society. Then it
dawned...Society is not Star Fleet. A half crooked smile graced her
features. She had paid her debt to society, but Star Fleet was still
waiting. So, to fufill this requirement, they stick her in the most
delinquent place in space. This base was the bottom of the Ferengi
barrell so to speak. Well, it will be interesting...
=/\= Sickbay - USS Caledonia =/\=
Des was estatic. The Caledonia was off on its way and she was walking in
for her first official duty shift. She was one of those utterly bizarre
individuals who actually liked her job and she was ready to set about it
as she walked in...
"Erm...Hullo? Can I help you?" Zim sat on one of the biobeds with his
short legs dangling over the side. He'd been checking out the sickbay
supply wise and getting use to working in the place. He didn't like the
feel of it but so long as he kept away from the dreaded stasis tube he
reckoned he could get used to a workplace full of drugs and beds.
Now there was another person here though...he was starting to panic. He
couldn't treat someone. He couldn't deal with a patient.
Blinking, Des was only caught by surprise for a moment before she stepped
forward with a grin. "Ensign Desdemona Sovanae," she introduced herself,
"I'm the Caledonia's newest Medical Officer."
Zim sighed with relief. "Thank Zot for that! I thought I was going to
have to do some sort of complicated surgery or something then." He hopped
off the bio bed and grinned toothily at Desdemona. "I'm Ensign Zim, I'm
the Caledonia's Clinical Manager." He held out a sweaty orange hand,
"We'll be working together lots and lots."
Des tilted her head with a curious look in her hazel eyes, but she
grinned all the same once again and took his hand. "Did you just come
around? I was under the impression that there wasn't anyone else in the
Medical Department 'round here 'cept some cranky EMH." She laughed.
Scratching at a lobe Zim replied, "I just got onboard yeah. Well, back on
board. I was posted here before but I was sent away to be retrained." He
looked round sickbay, "I think we might have a Nurse somewhere but I've
never met her."
Zim smiled and took a seat back on the bio bed again. He swung his legs
as he spoke, "So, you met any of the other crew yet?"
Thinking for a moment, there might be some flash in her memory about a
nurse but it was drowned out by the warning regarding the EMH, so she
couldn't quite recall. She'd find out soon enough. "Well, I've not *met*
too many," she replied, walking over and taking a seat on the bio bed
beside him, her long legs stretching closer to the ground than his own.
She pressed the heels of her hands on the edge and leaned on to them, "I
did see a bunch, though," she continued, "Several of us got stuck in
Raven's Brig together for a while," she explained nonchalantly, as if
that were an everyday occurence.
Zim was caught between disbelief and laughter. A bunch sounded like a
lot, seeing as the Caly was crewed by just about a bunch. He laughed, "I
hope they locked Jinti up...wait a second..." He narrowed his eyes
slightly at Desdemona, "What did you do to get tossed in there?"
Des grinned, unabashed although not about to toss out lines on her whole
personal life. "A misunderstanding was all, truly," she waved a hand, "I
was a bit distracted and almost tried to enter the wrong quarters and the
people in them got all huffy and called Security."
"Ah...well, so long as it wasn't anything too serious...what you got
thrown into the brig for, I mean." For a moment Zim's imagination had run
away with him. He had images of having to work with a violently deranged
medic.
"Do you reckon some of the crew could do with medicals?" asked Zim
suddenly.
Bouncing her heels playfully against the side of the bio bed, she nodded.
"I haven't checked the records just yet, but from Medical Officer's
intuition, I'm betting that several crew are probably long over-due." She
paused and looked at the Ferengi beside her, "What's your position
again?"
"Clinical Manager." replied Zim with a wry smile, "I get to er...aquire
supplies and sort paperwork out mainly." He glanced at Desdemona, "But
I've had emergency medical training." He said a little unhappily.
"You don't quite look like you want to use it, though," Des grinned.
"Don't worry about that. I'll manage that part. But, if you want to keep
on top of the rest of it, I think that this could be a prosperous working
relationship. For example...if you want to find out who is over due for a
med exam, I'll happily track them down and drag them in."
"That sounds like a great plan." Zim smiled, ever so evilly. "I think I
might get on that straight away...a few names that are might be over due
spring to mind."
Des laughed. "All ready?" she asked, "This about records or revenge?" she
joked, sort of, "Hey, I don't care which, so long as they are actually
over-due. Who'd you have in mind?"
"Well..."
=/\= Main Engineering - Starbase BoB =/\=
"...and then it all went downhill from there."
Lt. Omar paused, frowned and then nodded before resuming her work.
"Why do all my relationships end up that way?" Marcella Vadai demanded of
Omar.
"Maybe you just haven't met the right one for you," Yus carefully
ventured.
"Damn right you are, boss," said Vadai vehemently, "because they're all
WRONG for me and meant to be LEFT behind!"
"Right," Omar began before hurriedly amending, "I mean, okay. Yeah." The
starbase was in a safe unmanned orbit around the Faylinn planet but she
wanted to monitor the control loops and and make some fine adjustments.
It was difficult to concentrate on the matter at hand - she certainly did
not want to blunder into saying the wrong thing.
But Vadai was not appeased.
"Who gave these blooming Faylinns permission to pay us a visit anyway?"
"I believe they're called the Felim, and we'll know more about them when
Mulder gets back. Right now we just have to avoid ramming into them.
Especially before they send an away team to pay the diplomatic call - I'd
rather it doesn't develop into an apology call."
"Ain't our fault, we were always here."
"I think they have a similar version of the events from their side," Omar
said wryly.
"Betcha they try to overthrow us and take over the command," Vadai
intoned.
"Charming. Do your part then and make sure the shields are up *and*
monitored. Where's Lt. Sagi?"
=/\= Here and There - Starbase BoB =/\=
Reassured that the engineering officers would keep the station from
crashing to the planet below - for now, at least - Mulder was checking
off the various reports from her officers as she walked, making notes and
firing off instructions. The Away Team mission was now five hours away
and counting...
"Captain to Ops. Ensign Angel, since your scans show no dangerous orbital
defences, we shall release docked ships and open up the skyways again.
Send a message to all incoming vessels, please. Those that are scheduled
to dock at BoB, and our Border patrol ships, may indeed dock. Everyone
else is to keep a *wide* orbit away. I don't want the Felim to feel
crowded at this stage. Send them the usual warnings about beaming down,
too, along with your most effective training video..."
Having sorted that,
communication was a
the previous night,
give us cover, just
she commed Captain Cadwallader on the Enforcer. The
little strained on her part following the events of
but they kept to business matters. "You'll be able to
in case?" Mulder was saying.
"Confirmed," the ship captain answered back. We're undocking as we speak,
and will be tracking you." There was a pause as someone spoke in the
background, then, "My CMO has just asked me to remind you all about
standard Away Team booster shots. I don't expect it's something you
usually have to think about."
"Er, no. Good point."
"There's been an addition to the standard formula last month, I don't
suppose it's been sent your way?"
"Fat chance. We never get told anything," Mulder snorted.
"I'll arrange for enough hypos for your away team to be sent over, and
we'll upload the latest formula to your medical database so your doctors
can replicate stocks to replace whatever out of date stuff you currently
hold. And if all goes well, and we get shore leave, we might be able to
help in other ways..."
After a few arrangements were made, Mulder tapped her commbadge again,
"Captain to the Infirmary. Doctor Alleir, if you check your database
you'll see all the standard Away Team shot formula needs to be updated.
Please replicate enough to replace all current stock. If all goes well
this afternoon, you'll need to replicate more, but hold on that for now.
Be sure to give yourself a shot - you'll be getting some R & R yourself,
" Mulder assured her, before ending the call.
Pausing just long enough to flatten herself against the wall as two
Alsatians raced by with a string of sausages in their mouths each, she
rolled her eyes and made another call. "Lieutenant Vega, some of your
dogs seem to have got loose. There appears to be a sausage related
incident to deal with on the lower Promenade also. Please round them up
and make appropriate apologies to the butcher. Thanks."
Stopping back at her quarters, she eyed the pile of marine uniforms still
in the corner of her room, a little abashed to see so many.
"I promised myself I'd get these laundered for Major Asshole, and
laundered they shall be. Because I'm a better person than he is. Ha!" She
stomped over and scooped up three sets, having to leave at least two
other sets on the floor as she couldn't carry all that many and still see
over the top of the pile.
Back on the lower promenade she took them into the Real Sudz laundry.
"Could you do these as a priority for...Major Vaughan, please."
"Ah that's nice, captain." the old crone cackled.
"No it isn't. It's an obligation. I always keep my obligations," she said
icily. "Full launder and deliver to his quarters please."
"Lots of people like my proper laundering. I had that murderer in here
once, too." The crone pointed to a poster on the wall with a picture of
Cayke taken from SS&U and the hand scrawled sign underneath proclaiming:
"Blood? No Problem! Forty two different species of blood removed or your
money back!"
"Charming," Mulder muttered.
"Nice, it is," Crazy meg was still advertising her own prowness. "See,
the automated laundry just steams 'em and they can be a bit scratchy to
wear afterwards. Mine get proper fabric conditioner, makes the material
stronger and feels different against the skin."
"Do you do Essence of Barbed Wire conditioner?" Mulder asked sweetly.
"No, dear, you can choose from Ocean Fresh, Cedar & Geranium, Rose &
Magnolia, Violet & Basil, or Citrus Blast."
"Citrus Blast, please." She was more interested in the 'blast' than the
citrus but knew it was probably too much to hope for to expect it to be
literal.
"I'll deliver them tonight. If you all get back safe, that is," Crazy Meg
nodded and gave a toothless grin.
Tapping her code into the sale-point, Mulder hurried out. Checking the
time, she made for the nearest restaurant for a light snack before final
checks and preparations.
Away Team mission...she let the thought run through her head. Despite
everything that was happening right now, it was quite an exciting
prospect. She looked down at the planet below with an unexpected burst of
holiday fever.
=/\= Counsellor Dharma's Office - Starbase BoB =/\=
The counsellor was leaning against her desk, nose buried in an
assessment, when the door failed to chime. She looked up, they were back.
"Nice legs, Damien."
Arihana tossed the padd to one side. Damien hopped onto the chaise lounge
to surf again. "Yo, Computer, Dude, Hawaii five oh, man." The counsellor
was rather bemused, as Rufus tapped at the comm.console. Again, Bo Derek
circa Dudley Moore's imagination some time last millennium appeared on
the Holoscreen. Arihana watched, her legs swinging over edge of the desk.
The music, lord knows what it was, permeated through the room.
"Fellas, what you here for? You think I got nothing better to do?"
Rufus and Damien lived upto the stereotypes. The surfer dude, who was so
laid back he was almost horizontal. The rude boy Rasta who was too cool
to be running. They were both pretty harmless. Arihana reached behind
her, to turn off Bo Derek and turn down Hawaii five oh. "Counsellor,
Stah, I was enjoying that." Damien stepped off the chaise lounge, as he
and Rufus stood opposite Arihana. "Counsellor, man, we need your advice."
Arihana looked at the both. Damien was dressed in a dayglo pink t-shirt,
and yellow boardies. Rufus had his purple dreads twisted in a black
bandana, and was similarly attired, perhaps not as lurid. Grown men, but
juvenile and couldn't be arsed to grow up in their demeanour. "Well, you
here for a reason, or this my lucky day?" Damien grinned, to look at
Rufus. "Dude, man, told you she was cool." Rufus gave a pearly grin.
Arihana laughed rather disapprovingly to swivel around to the other side
of her desk. Pulling the seat close to the desk, she waited for a
response.
Rufus hopped over to the door, they had come in with a box. Damien
grinned, rubbing his palms together. "Counsellor, dude, we got a plan. A
plan to catch the honeys." Rufus had torn the lid of the box, and was
dragging towards the centre of the room. "Yeah, stah, heard you free
these days, who better to try it on, eh, stah?" Arihana was starting to
look worried. C'mon, it was Rufus and Damien, how bad could it be?
"One limbo stick. For bustin moves, innit" "Dude, that wet t-shirt
getting dry, man."
"Mojito, extra rum for the mojo, stah." "Bond babe costume for the beach,
man, we're good."
The counsellor arched a brow, as the two continued to unpack their little
box of tricks. These two were planning some kind of dawn til dusk beach
party, should the base be let loose to take a holiday. "I'm sorry, boys,
but Limbo? I'm way past shaking as stick at people, and that t-shirt-"
The counsellor recoiled as the wet garment squelched onto her desk. "Nah,
counsellor, stah, it meant to be that small. No competition udderwise,
innit?" Arihana poked the orange translucent mess off her desk and onto
the floor, where is smacked down like a fresh piece of haddock. "Spoil
sport, innit."
Damien reached into the box, grinning, he hoisted out a hula hoop. "Yo,
counsellor, is it true?" He looked at Rufus. "Godda be, stah, us blokes
don't have snake hips." Again they looked at each other, then at the
counsellor. "Dude, you take one end-" "Bruddah, I'll take de udder."
"I'm telling you. Both of you. This gets out-oi, -leave it-"
Arihana was in the middle of the hoop, feet shoulder width apart as the
she held it. "When I said you both need therapy, well, anyways-" Damien
and Rufus watched seated on the chairs near to the desk. "Arihana, dude,
you just show how it's done, we just gonna watch." Arihana hmped,
threatening to boot'em out the door. Rufus protested " Nah, stah,
counsellor, you do it first, innit, we follow." Arihana eyed them both
with some suspicion. Why was she doing this?
"G'won, counsellor, stah. Hula dat hoop, innit." "C'mon, counsellor.
Hula."
"Woah, dude, never seen it done like that before." "You, me both
bruddah."
"That boys, is why you need snake hips. Now, scoot."
The hoop rolled through the door, closely followed by Damien who was
going a brighter shade of red, and Rufus who was now a deeper shade of
aubergine. Arihana perched on the desk, in a fit of hysterical laughter.
Man, she loved her job.
=/\= Main Shuttlebay - Starbase BoB =/\=
Mulder arrived ten minutes early for the Away Team briefing and stood for
a moment looking at the shuttles which were, presumably, the ones ready
for their conveyance to the surface. She'd toyed with the idea of taking
Greased Lightening down, but decided that would wait for another trip.
For now, stick to the main plan.
Felix was going about quietly, prepping the two shuttles, busily engaging
himself in anything possible that was solitary. Occasionally he would
crane his neck and whisper into his comm badge, to ensure that a
permanent comm uplink was present to him. He still felt out of sorts, but
tried to leave it be for the present.
Cade stepped through the threshold and into the shuttle bay and with a
touch of chagrin, discovered that he was the second to arrive. At least
the two marines were with him. "Morning, Captain." Turning to his
troopers, he said, "Final gear check, boys."
Parvis arrived a couple minutes later than planned. His original plan, to
wear the heavily-armored, all-terrain pressure suit had been abandoned en
route to the shuttlebay. It had proven far too heavy for sustained
movement. The abandoned shell was now happily riding in the turbolift
he'd removed it in, bound for parts unknown.
Instead, the little Counselor had his uniform and his traveling bag. An
old, beaten duffel dragged behind him on the deck. It had a light load of
emergency rations, the most essential of hair care products, and a PADD
he believed to be filled with First Contact protocols. However, due to an
error in downloading, it contained merely a brief video montage,
"Greatest First Contact Bloopers Reenacted!"
Paxan Brey walked into the shuttlebay carrying a small kit over her
slender shoulder. Inside the kit were her tricorder, padds, and other
assorted science equipment all ready to be used by the eager scientist.
Flinging her golden blonde hair over her shoulder, she smiled cordially
to the others gathered and approached Mulder to stand nearby, her mind
firmly on the assignment at hand but also feeling the giddiness of going
down to the mystery planet.
Didn't she say 1600, Frank Palmice wondered? It seemed like almost
everyone was already in the shuttle bay, when he imagined he would be one
of the first for once. He was traveling light, with a slight adaptation
of the usual yellow security uniform, making it a little less restrictive
and more suitable for planetary duties. In a chest pocket were tucked
away some shades, and on his head rested a floppy blue booney - not the
camo kind some Marines wore at times, but more like that of a man with a
fishing fetish.
Was about time they got this show on the road. When his mind settled to
the fact he was going down to the planet one way or another, Frank
decided he might as well enjoy it while it lasted. Some fresh air would
be a good change to the usually oppressing scents floating around on
BoB's atmosphere, caused by sweating civilians, visiting who emitted
strange bodily odors from exotic glands, and of course BoB's own distinct
smell of something rotten.
"Right," once they were assembled, Mulder began a short briefing. "I
don't know if you've all had chance to see the latest reports updates but
here's the gist of it. We've ascertained there are no orbital defences to
be accidentally triggered, so whilst we don't know about ground defences
yet, we're taking a chance and having the USS Enforcer fly cover for us."
"Reports so far indicate we are exactly where and *when* we ought to be,
so they are the interlopers, not us - whatever they claim. The atmosphere
down there is allegedly healthy and harmless. Given their distance from
the sun that supports the Sayl'reth system, their equatorial temperatures
should be pleasantly warm, somewhat Mediterranean in terran terms."
"One very odd thing that had shown up - the entire population of the
planet is little more than one million people. Why, we have no idea. It's
something we shall have to ask about. And finally, a few odd
characteristics have been brought to light by medical analysis."
She help up her PADD so they could see the delicate pale green facial
colour of Regent Sylas. "There seems to be some residue scaling on their
skin, in random patterns. It could be an evolutionary left-over from
possibly reptilian or amphibious ancestry, or for all we know, a genetic
skin disease. So don't stare too much."
As soon as she said it she knew that was a mistake. People *always*
stared at things they shouldn't. She tried to drag her gave away from
Parvis's wig - uuhhh...*hair*...
"Counsellor Maru - what should we be aware of as regards etiquette down
there?"
"Well, um." Parvis stammered at the team. "Since we don't know their
etiquette or laws, we need to be very careful to tread lightly. When in
doubt, politely ask our hosts for information about what you see or hear.
Let them lead, initially, and try not to touch things. We have no idea
what they consider sacred. A seemingly-trivial little rock sculpture
could have great religious significance. Or it could be simply filthy and
disease-ridden."
"But, at the same time, we need to show them our ways. Introduce
ourselves, explain our rankings and purpose to them. And learn what we
can about them, again, ask questions. But, be polite. Try not to act too
threatening," Parvis tried to avoid the glare of the marines.
Frank, meanwhile, snorted at the Marines too - as if *they* were able to
pull that off. He hoped he could hide his own despise for the species on
the planet, though. On all accounts, these were some kind of people from
reptilian descent, or just looked icky, which gave him the creeps. Last
time he touched a lizard, he strangled it, gutted it, impaled it on a
stick and roasted it over a low fire for supper. Wisely, Frank refrained
from any comment.
That settled, she looked at Paxan. "Lieutenant Brey, I'd like you to
collect as many geophysical samples as you can for analysis. Rocks,
plants, soil - anything you can easily carry back.
The young woman nodded and glanced towards a small stack of specimen
containers that she had arranged to be loaded on the shuttlecraft.
"Understood, sir," she said simply.
"One last thing before we go." Mulder indicated Vaughan, and noted that
he was still wearing the Acting Major's rank insignia that he had been
given in such bitter circumstances the day before. "I have appointed
Acting Major Vaughan to be my Executive Officer for the purposes of this
exercise, until we have sounded them out more fully. Please act
accordingly." She moved swiftly on, "Are there any more questions or
comments before we leave?"
Cade shook his head and was more than ready to turn the gold oak leafs
back over to Mulder, but in the spirit of their newly chilled dealings,
he wouldn't until properly ordered.
For her part, Paxan tried to not look to surprised. It had not been that
long ago that she had occupied the rank of XO during the recent
inspector's visit and it had quickly become a challenging job that
appealed to her. Now, having someone else taking the position caused a
slight twinge in the young woman. Command was definitely something she
could see herself in.
"Before I forget," Mulder opened a case she had with her. "Courtesy of
the Enforcer's sickbay. Here's a hypospray each, containing a booster to
all your usual innoculations, plus a few extras designed to cover most
known variants of...things..." she wasn't too hot on medical terminology,
and placed the case down on the floor, after taking one out for herself
and pressing it to her neck.
Parvis eagerly took up a hypospray and quickly read the label. A bit less
than he was used to for a few of them items, but it would be a nice
supplement for the little hypochondriac's far-too-frequently selfadministered boosters.
It wasn't the first time Felix had taken a hypospray recently. He pushed
it to exactly the right place without double-checking, just tilting his
head to the left to main the vein more prominent. He blinked as it
hissed, and put it back onto the case slowly.
Well, that was some fine print, Frank muttered, taking a hypospray from
the case and straightly administering the medical cocktail to his system.
It kind of reminded him of his Marine days, where they were used to get
shots of to them unknown substances at regular intervals, by white coated
officials. He never could shake the feeling of being used as a guinea pig
in a lab.
None of the others had fallen over with toxic shock, so the two enlisted
marines the group figured it was safe. Once Kresha saw the label, he
nodded his head. "Standard cocktail for Away Teams," he murmured as he
handed one of the hypos to Vaughan and another one to Finn.
"Let's go." Once everyone had taken the dosage Mulder started walking
towards the shuttles. "We have been given landing co-ordinates for what
is apparently the centre of their capital city." They filed towards the
shuttles. "Lieutenant de l'Isle, how you wish to divide the team as
regards the flight down?
"In the lead shuttle, I'll take Captain Mulder, Lieutenant Brey and
Specialist Palmice. In the second, Splenda will take Captain Vaughan's
team." It seemed the most logical allocation of space. "Time to get in,"
he said quietly, looking for Mulder's nod to go.
"Thank you, Lieutenant," she was glad he seemed to be more alert than the
previous morning. "Ready when you are."
Felix nodded. He didn't say much - he had got to the stage of not
talking. People assumed their places quickly enough and everything was
loaded quickly. The co-pilot controls would be monitored by Takarth, who
he also didn't speak to. When he finally settled down in his own chair
and put through the pre-flight sequence he slipped into the doze of
routine, performing something done a thousand times before.
The door bays open in front of them, and somewhat sleepily Felix
remembered that it would be a planetary descent. It was that they'd been
preparing for, but it had somehow slipped his mind. He snapped himself
out of looking at the colours, the promise of ocean and jungle and places
with which he had not been confronted for several years, withheld to him
by Starfleet duty, captivity, and duty once again.
The pair of shuttles took to the upper atmosphere with relish, riding the
crest of the currents. Felix felt a smile begin to form like a misty
cloud on his face. Takarth maintained the relay controls between base and
destination, her eyes fixed forward most of the time in intrigue. For
them, the view was always the best.
The noses aimed deeper toward the ground, and Felix couldn't help but
grin as the shuttle shook. There was something fervent and self-indulgent
about it that was hidden from his passengers, but Takarth caught it.
Shades of blue and water flushed past the window as though someone were
draining used paintbrushes in a sink. For a moment Felix felt slightly
grim, the turbulence shaking his stomach - something mistreated for weeks
- but weathered it as the ground made its tiny appearance below.
Parvis survived the shuttle ride thanks to his usual procedure. Eyes
tightly closed, extra restraints across the body, and sick bag at the
ready.
Cade glanced across the cargo bay of the shuttle to the little blue
counselor across from him. When he noted the barf-bag, he stood up,
despite Splenda's warning and moved two seats down so that Corporal Finn
was now between him and Parvis. Rank has it's privileges, and in this
case, rank meant not having to shield the walls of the shuttle from
Parvis' projectile vomit.
Shuttle rides were not Frank's forte. It was something about handing out
control, surrender his life, in a way, to a pilot - who were usually of
the same kind; young, brash, noisy - that did not sit well with him. He
shuddered to think about the BoBcats at all, actually, so he tried not
paying attention to that. Space rushed by outside too slow to notice any
change through the limited vision the small window to his side allowed,
though they were speeding to the planet quick now.
Mulder hated being in a shuttle when someone else was piloting - even
someone of Felix's calibre, and she concentrated on staying still and not
being a back-seat flyer.
Felix nodded to himself as he brought the shuttle's speed down. Details
disappeared quickly like actors running off-stage to their sides, and
gradually sank into obscurity. Their stopping point was the main square,
and second by second he was able to see it materialise below him in
greater detail, correlating it to the map on the screen.
Shapes, then vehicles, buildings and people came into fuller view as the
shuttle sank to an infintessimal speed to make a stately landing.
Splenda's vessel still hung on his shoulder. She had tailed him
efficiently enough and had remarked, similarly, that it wasn't often
she'd had the chance to do such a landing. Finally, they came to hover
above their resting point, and drifted down in controlled tandem, before
touching down on the spot, and waiting to open the doors to clear the way
for their first breath of now-still planetary air.
=/\= =/\= =/\=
As they stepped out of the shuttles, the warmth enveloped them. It was a
clear-blue sky day, and the sun was warm and pleasant, along with a
slight breeze that was perfect for keeping the temperature moderate.
Mulder could see that a few of the others were also enjoying the feel of
solid ground beneath their feet.
"Feels like the east coast of Spain." Looking around and studying the
landscape, Cade's fingers trailed along the handle of his pistol, almost
hoping for something to happen just so he could shoot someone and get rid
of some of the stress.
Paxan inhaled deeply, taking the crisp air into her lungs. It had seemed
like a lifetime since her feet were on solid ground. With the warm sun on
her skin, she glanced around-doing a quick visual survey over the
surrounding area.
"It's hot." Parvis squinted his eyes and kicked himself inside for not
bringing a protective covering for Harold.
Absentmindedly poking in his left ear, shooting away some goo retrieved
from said orifice, Frank donned his shades and felt happy to be wearing
what he did. Underneath his light, open jacket, he straightened his back,
stretching the shoulder holster with a compact type IIIs phaser, besides
his regular sidearm, the push dagger he kept on his chest, a tactical
tanto on his belt, and finally his recently acquired Colt, strapped to
his right ankle, for good measure. He had not planned to come unprepared,
that was one sure thing.
Felix wasn't use to the heat either, and took on a swarthy look in its
presence. He stood uncomfortably next to Paxan, not saying far too much.
Somehow, he looked clean and vaguely sober, although inside he felt like
saying very little, his tongue tied with a lack of inspiration. That, for
everyone else, was probably for the best. He felt content to stand at a
vague sort of presence and attend.
Shading her eyes, Mulder could see a welcoming party heading towards
them. They had landed as arranged in the huge central square of a small
town that was apparently their capital city. The buildings were all of
white sandstone, crisp and fresh, with a boxy, cubic design throughout
interspersed with geometric shaped outcroppings for more decoration than
practical, as far as she could see.
The air was invigorating and sweet, and the whole ambiance was relaxed
and extremely prosperous without being ostentatious.
The committee had almost reached them and the BoB group moved forward to
complete the trip. "Regent Sylas," Mulder greeted the man she recognised
from the screen.
Seen closer up, their skin was a more pleasant shade of green than had
shown on the images. A pale, delicate green, the colour of a spring
budding leaf. The scales - or residue scales - were very faint and
translucent and only when the light caught them were they noticeable.
Even then, they were not covered in them, just one or two irregular
patches on their faces.
Along with the pointed ears and long hair, there was an off fragility
about them, despite the fact they were of the same height and built as
the landing party. Almost fey...the fey people of Faylinn, Mulder
whimsied to herself as they reached them.
"Captain Mulder. We are delighted to meet you in person and to offer you
our hospitality," Sylas inclined his head. "Are there any greetings
formalities you would wish us to observe? We are not familiar with your
species."
*How polite. How odd* was all she thought. Then, "We usually shake
hands," she held out her right hand. "You put out your right hand to
clasp mine, and we, er, shake them up and down a few times." It sounded
exceedingly silly when she said it aloud, But Sylas had followed her
instructions, and they were indeed shaking hands.
She looked at said hands, remembering one of the other points from the
medical report. They were very gnarled and the thick claw-like nails make
her withdraw her own hand very carefully. Still, he hadn't exhibited any
sign of pain, or any hesitation at all, so presumably it was natural
rather than infirm.
"Interesting," Sylas said. "Is there a reason for such a custom?"
"There is," Mulder nodded. "It is a Terran greeting. In ancient times the
sword - a popular weapon, was worn by many, on the left hand side, and
would be withdrawn with the right hand to stab and enemy or at least
start a fight. To offer the right hand - the sword hand - was a sign that
you were not going to draw your weapon, but were offering friendship
instead."
"Ah..." there were a few appreciative nods and murmurs from the small
committee behind him. "Excellent. Thank you."
He then indicated a tall younger man who had moved to stand next to him.
This one had the same delicate green skin colouring but his hair was
straight and very long, tied back in a long ponytail. He was dressed
differently too, wearing what could be a decorative but more likely
practical armour plate. "May I introduce my Deputy Regent, Kyran. He is
also the leader of our armed forces."
Mulder gave a small inward smile of satisfaction. Despite
circumstances, it seemed she had made the right call with
"Likewise, Regent Sylas, Deputy Kyran, may I introduce my
Officer, Major Vaughan," she paused. "He is the leader of
Troops."
the
Vaughan.
Executive
our Marine
"Marine?" Sylas murmured, "I am not familiar with the term for military
useage. Amphibious troops?" he hazarded.
"Something like that," Mulder nodded.
She could see Kyran eyeing Vaughan up and knew the marine would be
returning the assessment.
Cade stepped forward and bowed his head slightly for the briefest of
moments. "Deputy Regent Kyran." The marine officer made no move to hold
out his hand, preferring a more formal greeting.
Kyran looked confused for a moment, half holding out his hand, then when
he realised it would not be met, simply nodded, "A pleasure to meet a
fellow military man, Major."
"Likewise, Deputy Regent." Cade had made his assessment. If it came to
blows, Kyran would die first followed rapidly by Sylas, and he was
convinced that he'd get them both before any reaction by the Felim would
interfere.
Expecting more introductions, but seeing none forthcoming, Mulder gave an
inward shrug and proceeded with her own. "May I also introduce our
cultural liaison officer, Counsellor Maru," she gave Parvis a small push
in the back.
"Hello," Parvis nodded slowly to the Regent, before hastily stepping back
out of the way again.
Moving swiftly on she added, "Our chief pilot, Lieutenant de l'Isle, and
our science officer, Lieutenant Brey."
Felix nodded. "Hi," he sort of stumbled. He'd been about to say 'welcome'
but remembered that they thought that the BoB residents were the
intruders, so to speak, so stuck to another nod as he offered his hand.
Paxan stepped forward after Felix and inclined her head respectfully. "An
honor to meet you," she said diplomatically.
"I trust it will be acceptable for Lieutenant Brey to collect some
samples to take back with us? We are hoping to find clues to your - to
the strange phenomena which has brought our two peoples together," Mulder
made a valiant attempt at diplomacy.
"But of course. Feel free. Our town is quite small and there are any
number of open spaces, please enjoy and collect," Sylas waved an airy
hand. "In the meantime, I hope you will all join me in the Council
chambers for some light refreshment and a chat."
Not wanting Paxan to go off on her own, Mulder looked at Vaughan and
flicked her eyes to the two marines behind him."
Cade had caught the look and turned his head to the side to direct his
comments to the two Corporals. "Finn, Kresha. Go with the Lieutenant and
assist with the collection of samples."
"You think you need protection from us?" Kyran looked slighted yet
amused. "I can assure you, there is no danger to your people here."
Cade turned back with steely eyes. "Actually, Deputy Regent, they were
brought because of their interest in botany. Soldiers that study only war
have only their blood to offer a battlefield, in my experience."
Absorbing this for a moment, Kyran smiled, "An excellent philosophy,
Major. I shall remember that. Thank you." Again, the committee made small
noises of approval, as if hearing extreme words of wisdom.
After getting the go-ahead from Mulder, Paxan turned with the two marines
in tow and trotted off towards the town. Casting a small glance over her
shoulder, Paxan eyed Felix and wished that she could have had a few
minutes to talk with him. As usual, everything was going so quickly.
Parvis stole a moment to peek at Paxan as she departed. She looked good
in this light. He quickly averted his eyes, hoping Felix did not notice.
Feeling it unnecessary to introduce Palmice, whose general demeanour
clearly said, "I will hurt people if necessary. Or maybe just for fun,"
she said brightly, "Lead on, Regent."
"This way." he led them across the large open paved square towards a
splendid two-story building on the opposite side.
Parvis considered what they had learned so far, as he walked with the
crowd.
Apparently they had a civilian leader, but with a close second in charge
of the military, deferring to the civilian leadership. These council
chambers, perhaps they are a forum for leaders or representatives of the
people? Or simply a throne room for a more command-oriented leader?
Parvis also appreciated the fact that their hosts were willing to let
them keep their arms for safety, a generous sign of good faith.
With his troopers gone, Cade deliberately slowed his step so that he
became the last in line. With practiced ease and his natural patience, he
made slow, casual sweeps of their surroundings with his eyes. His thumbs
were hooked on his gunbelt in a manner that suggested he was content, but
kept his hands near the weapons for a fast draw if it was necessary.
Being dismissed as he was when the introductions came, was fine by Frank.
He felt a hint of relief to postpone any conversation with these people,
let alone touch those claws in a friendly manner. Maybe they would
consider him as the lowly subordinate member of the team that he was, he
smiled. That was good. As he walked over the square, that was bathing in
sunlight, he made sure he wasn't walking too far to the front, back, or
either left or right side; those were the usual spots where people were
picked off in an ambush.
=/\= =/\= =/\=
On the outskirts of the small village, Paxan smiled and looked into a
thick grassy mound several meters from the path. It had seemed so long
since Paxan was in an environment like this and she couldn't help but
smile at its beauty.
Corporal
reminded
where he
to enjoy
charade,
or plant
Kresha had to force himself to concentrate on his job. The area
him a great deal of Bajor, especially the equatorial region
grew up. The nostalgic part of him warred with the marine part
the scenery, but inevitably, the marine side won. To keep up the
though, every once in a while he would stop and examine a flower
(or appear to) as he checked the ground for tracks.
Kneeling down in the grass, Paxan extended her tricorder and scanned the
nearby area, "Nothing out of the ordinary here," she said under her
breath as opened a small specimen container. Going through the thick
mound, Paxan picked out several odd looking insects and placed them
peacefully in the containers.
Paxan looked back at the marine guards who were standing watch nearby and
smirked. Even in place like this they couldn't enjoy it-always looking
for the worse case scenario, she guessed. Finishing with collection of a
half dozen more samples of flora and fauna, Lieutenant Brey stood up and
headed back to her protectors, "Well...I've got as much as time will
allow for now. Let's get back to Mulder and the others," she said with a
fling of her blonde hair in the gentle warm breeze.
As the trio walked back towards the group, Paxan looked all around and
relished the idyllic setting of Faylinn. She could only hope that this
planet and the people on it were no threat to BoB and that the crew might
get to enjoy there time together.
Across the main square, the Council Building was reached by wide granite
stairs which led into a cool, marbled lobby. Exotic plants decorated the
foyer, and Sylas led them into a large, light chamber with comfortable
seats dotted around a series of low coffee tables.
"Please sit. Welcome to our Chambers. Most of the administration work for
this town, and several in our close sector, is done here. We also hold
functions and meetings here. It is our pleasure to be your hosts," he
clapped his hands and a few servitors appeared, bearing trays of drinks.
"Our most traditional beverage. It is called Slebene," Sylas smiled at
them. "I do not know your protocols, but will suggest that we offer it to
your cultural advisor first?"
Mischief glinted in Mulder's eyes as she nodded, "I'm sure Counsellor
Maru would be honoured."
I'm sure I wouldn't! Parvis screamed inside his head as he smiled and
took up one of the small, earthenware mugs. Parvis carefully sipped a
sample. It was warm and bland. He took a more conventional sip, making a
gentle slurping noise.
"Mmmmmm," Parvis made appropriately-yummy-sounding noises and nodded
vigorously at the dishwater. "Yes, you should definitely try some,
Captain." He smiled back at her.
"We make it from the stewed roots of the Amaurea plant. It is supposed to
be a good digestive." Sylas smiled beneficially as the others took their
own drinks.
Mulder tried to swallow a few mouthfuls. "Interesting. It is...very
different."
Felix downed his fairly quickly as to get rid of it. He had hoped it
might be some kind of equivalent to brandy or gin, but alas he was
mistaken. He looked at Mulder. Clearly, she was lying. It was neither
interesting nor different. He'd drunk better things in prison.
Sitting rather uncomfortably in a seat to the back, with his gun dangling
from the shoulder holster in such a way it either poked in his side, or
popped out of his jacket. For diplomatic reasons, Frank decided just to
suffer. Which did not mean he had to drink this...whatever it was. Only
after smelling the bland substance, Frank abused his slightly out-ofsight position to stealthily pour the contents of the small mug in the
pot of a nearby plant. Innocently he looked on to the officers doing
their first contact business. Digestive, my ass.
Cade tossed the drink back and suppressed the urge to voice his opinion
on Slebene's similarity to the Fur-Fish antidote.
"Now, to business," Sylas dismissed the servitors. "I am sure you must
have many questions."
"We certainly do." Mulder tried to think where the hell to begin. "We
noticed that your population is exceedingly small for such a large
world," she began.
"Indeed, it is, and we have our reasons. We limit our population
voluntarily, the better to enjoy our world. This way, our natural
resources can sustain us indefinitely. We are prosperous and content. We
have superb beaches, wonderful mountains, holiday homes all over the
globe. We want for nothing. And we would be happy to share it with you."
"That's...very generous." Mulder believed that anytime anyone from
'government' said the population did something voluntarily, it was
probably quite the reverse. However, she let it lie for now now and
asked, "You don't seem to be all that worried by our presence, if I may
say so, or even concerned about this sudden appearance."
Sylas shrugged, "Look at it from our point of view, captain. Here we are,
where we have always been, on a large planet, and a small - no disrespect
intended - but a small satellite with a few newcomers appears. It is
strange, yes, and we shall be happy to co-operate in the finding of a
solution. But it can hardly be a problem for us. Especially now we have
met you," he smiled.
Mulder smiled back, "That's good to hear. And, if I may ask further, we
are a curious people and whilst we will respect your sites not to invade
your medical privacy, I'm sure our medical people would be interested in
viewing your facilities. We might learn new things."
Sylas looked towards a female member of the committee by way of reply,
and the woman half stood up and gave a little bow. "I am Doctor Tianna,
the Health Minister for Faylinn. My clinic is in this town, and yes, a
few of your medics are welcome to visit with me."
With a smile that clearly said: we have nothing to hide, Sylas nodded his
thanks.
"Right," Mulder was fed up. This was going too well. "And you say our
people would be welcome here?"
This time Kyran spoke up, "Our military are also our law enforcement. So
long as your people enjoyed themselves peacefully, we are sure there
would be no problems."
"My own people have that sort of system," Mulder said thoughtfully. "You
must have quite busy lives."
"Fortunately, our own citizens are very law abiding, so there is little
by way of trouble. However, it also comes at a cost," he looked at Sylas
who gave a nod of agreement, obviously something discussed between them
in private. He continued, "Our military have no real experience with
warfare, and we might not always be so lucky with our visitors. We would
ask if your own soldiers would be willing to train with us, to sharpen us
in the ways of war."
Surprised, Mulder shot Vaughan a glance. "I have no problem with that,
should Major Vaughan feel it to be appropriate."
"I would welcome the opportunity, Deputy Regent," Cade said evenly. "One
of the mandates of my unit is to work and train with what we refer to as
Indigenous Forces in the hopes that the lessons learned in training will
lessen the casualties on the battlefield."
"Then we shall meet soon and discuss strategies," Kyran smiled. "I thank
you in advance. I know we shall learn much from you."
"Regent, if I may," Parvis spoke up. "Have you heard of us before?
Starfleet? the Federation? Does any of that ring a bell with you?"
"No, it does not," Sylas and his councillors looked baffled. "We have had
guests before, it is true, but none have spoken of such things. But then
again, we do not ask, it would be considered rude. We are who we are, let
others be who *they* are. What matters is the heart inside, not the
outward shell."
Parvis nodded and continued. "Also, Sir, I should point out. Our
organization, the Federation, we come from many different worlds. The
group you see before you represents, um," Parvis paused to look around at
the away team, "at least three or four different species. We have
individuals from quite a few others on the station. Even with your
experience with other races prior to us, are there any concerns you might
have for preparing your people for the apparent invasion of aliens?"
Sylas gave a gentle smile, "No, Counsellor, I can foresee no problems.
Now we have met you, we will trust you to respect our world. Come, and be
welcome. Though, not all at once, of course," he laughed at his own
little joke. "And you, counsellor, might like to take some time to talk
with our Recorder of History, Professor Hellon. As culture is your
interest, he will be able to give you access to our libraries and
records."
Mulder chipped in there, "Just so's we don't make any mistakes or cause
any offence, are there any sacred spots or areas of danger we should not
venture near?" She was thinking, that if he gave a list of places not to
go, that would be the *first* place she'd send teams in to investigate.
"Not at all. We have no deities, or danger spots, that we are aware of.
Those who wish to visit our cities may use our shuttleports on the edge
of each town. Those who wish to venture further afield may out down
wherever your pilots deem safe."
"Excellent. I am sure we shall wish to bring back souvenirs too," Mulder
was almost thinking out loud.
"There is one thing you should be aware of, Captain - one request we
would most strongly make." Sylas looked serious. "We as a people are
vegetarians. Our eco-system is quite fragile and we do not eat the flesh
of fish, fowl or beast. There are certainly species of animals here but
they are not numerous and we do not hunt them or keep them as pets. We
would ask that no animals are removed from our world. It is the nearest
thing to an order we can make, if you would bear that in mind."
"Certainly. That's not unreasonable," she readily agreed.
"So, Captain," Sylas looked happy. "When may we expect your crews?"
"As soon as we can get organised," Mulder said. "Oh, what is your
financial situation? Do you take Federation credits?"
"As we do not know what Federation credits are, we might be reluctant
but...ahh, very well. I am sure you are honourable people. We have our
own currency, which would not be compatible, probably with yours, but I'm
sure our financial institutions can make provision. We would also be
happy to accept latinum, it is as valuable to us as we know it to be to
other interstellar visitors."
"Sounds good," Mulder nodded, then a thought struck her, "That reminds me
- you do not seem to have any space programme yourselves. And yet your
technology puts you well into the capability bracket..."
"The simple answer is, Captain, that we are not interested in travelling
afield. We are content here, and have no real interest in the rest of the
galaxy. Should the day ever come when our people decide they would like
to venture further, then doubtless we shall do so. But no, not now. It
would not suit us at all."
"Oh. Right. But you will come up to our Starbase sometime and allow us to
return the hospitality?"
He shook his head, "I thank you, Captain, but I would prefer to stay on
the good ground." There was a polite but indisputable note of finality in
his voice and he stood, the meeting clearly over.
=/\= =/\= =/\=
After being guided back to the shuttles
back up with Paxan and her marines, the
base passed in no time as Mulder's mind
had learned. Stepping back out into the
round her for a debriefing.
with all due courtesy, meeting
short ten minute trip back to the
was reflecting on everything they
shuttlebay she gathered the party
"That was probably the biggest anti-climax I've ever known. No trouble,
no problems, just - a warm welcome. Did we do something right or
something wrong? So, what say you all - can we allow R&R? We still have
to work out where the hell they came from, but I'm veering towards
letting our people go down there. That's probably where the solutions lie
anyway."
Paxan Brey looked around smiling. She was making no secret about her
desire to spend a little time on the mystery planet, "I, for one can see
no reason why we shouldn't spend a little time planetside. Just because
they've come out of nowhere doesn't mean they're hostile and we all
joined Starfleet to seek out new civilizations and explore, what's the
difference if they come to us instead of us knocking on their doorstep?"
Felix shrugged. "I'll have to make up a flight rota, but I guess it'll
give us some much-needed practice."
Feeling suspicious was both Frank's job, and his nature. There had been
no problems down there, nor any indication of future problems...All nice
and smooth and painless. As if they landed on some happy-go-merry hippie
communion, complete with mostly middle aged women who were singing,
dancing, and wearing spacious clothing as they were frolicking about.
Nonsense. There was no such place. There had to be an underbelly in that
paradise; there always was. But never mind that, he thought. In his mind
he could see pristine beaches, sunshine, scantly clad females and lots of
ice cold beer, and he saw that it was good.
Cade's thoughts were running closer to Palmice's than the others, both on
the suspicion angle and the beach angle. "If it's too good to be true,
then it probably is, Captain. Although, I just don't see the downside
right now.
For the time being, can I suggest that all shuttles and visitors be
accompanied by either marines or security? Just until we know for sure."
"Agreed," she nodded thoughtfully. "I'll draw up a procedures list for
everyone to follow, and subject to a few safety restrictions I see no
reason why we can't start flights to the surface first thing tomorrow
morning. I'll get the orders out this evening." She stretched, "So, I
suggest you all start planning your holiday destinations, people. I know
we still have to solve the whole mystery of how they got here, but for
now - it looks like we've got out own personal Risa...
=/\= Bridge - USS Caledonia =/\=
"ZANZIBAR! ZANIBAAAR! AND WE ALL LOVE ZAN-ZEE-BAAAR!"
The helm crew were having a team sing-song as they pulled away from
Raven. "ZANZIBAR! ZANIBAAAR! AND WE ALL LOVE ZAN-ZEE-BAAAR!"
After the fourth repetition, Jadi Z'El stopped and looked puzzled, "Say,
Chief, are there any verses? I mean, are there any more words?"
"Nope, thass all there is," Jinti assured her.
"And why do we 'love' Zabzibar?" Richards was in a pedantic mood. "I
mean, it's a frieghter that we've got to salvage. It's just...a
freighter."
"Cuz it's the words to the song, silly," Jitni poked him in the ribs.
"It's an ole classic from earth, an' it's called 'Vindaloo'...yeah,
Vindaloo."
"So, it's just one line, only with the word Vindaloo instead of
Zanzibar?" Jadi was trying to catch up. "That doesn't make much sense."
"It useta be a football song. An' football crowds weren't usually very
bright so they had ta keep it easy so's they could remember the words."
Jinti nodded sagely.
"Vindaloo, though? Isn't that a spicy terran foodstuff?" Richards was
racking his brains.
"Yep, I think."
"And it's linked to football *how*?"
"Dunno. I didn't make it up!" Jinti shrugged. "I only used it cuz it fits
with Zanzibar cuz it's got the same three sillybulls."
"Oh, so there *are* more verses..." Jadi said with an accusing look.
"Eh?"
"More verses about crazed livestock. You said there were three silly
bulls in it in."
Richards thwunked his head on the console.
Jinti just blinked.
Fortunately, McArhns' voice issued instructions at that point...."And
Jinti...get us there as soon as possible, and remember that we have new
crew on board. Act accordingly. McArnh out."
"Haaahaahaa..." Jinti crowed, "I reckon the skipper wants me ta show them
that we'z a ship with a pilot thats got *STYLE* - *Yeah!*
Jadi Z'El surreptitiously reached for the sick-bucket she'd stowed away
under the co-pilots console.
"Well, bye-bye Raven, we won't see you again, I don't expect," Richards
yawned and stretched.
Jinti fell silent, her earlier exuberance sudenly gone.
"Chief?"
"Yeh?"
"You going to, y'know, get us going?" Richards shot her a puzzled look.
"Oh, right, yeah," she gave a sharp little shake of the head as if
brushing unknown thoughts away and flexed her fingers.
"Come on then, gang, gimme some encouragement," she forced herself to
perk up again.
"ZANZIBAR! ZANIBAAAR! AND WE ALL LOVE ZAN-ZEE-BAAAR!" the two co-pilots
obligingly roared.
"Yeee-ha, all set fer warp speed...lesss GO..." she slammed the console
and the Caledonia jumped like a maiden aunt being goosed by the vicar.
The warp bubble enveloped the ship out of sheer desparation and the
vessel shot forward in an enveloping blue streak, in which you could
almost see the sparks.
"Warp factor one...two...three..." they chanted.
"Three an' holding. And now we're rollin'."
"Don't you mean 'rocking', Chief?"
"I means whut I sez," Jinto chortled and spun the Caly into a corkscrew
roll, "Woohoo inertial dampeners, dampen *this*!"
They did, too, at least after three or four seconds...
Jadi was glad the sick bucket was thus far empty, as it flew across the
bridge. She scrabbled to catch it as her stomach realised what was
happening, and hid behind the security console, barfing quietly and
happily away.
"Rollin', rollin' rollin', keep that ship a-rollin'..." Jinti and
Richards sang loudly. Jadi gamely tried to join in but her voice was a
bit gloopy and dribbly so she shut up until her stomach had emptied.
"Chief, even *I'm* getting dizzy," Richards admitted after a few minutes
of stomach-churning looping the loops.
"Okay everybody, let's do the BUMP," Jinti turned the Caledonia into a
kangaroo, and was mercifully unaware of the sounds of small objects (and
possibly people) falling off shelves all over the ship.
Levelling out, she had a flush of success, "C'mon Zellers, git up here,
ain't you bin sick enough?"
"I'm all right now," Jadi quickly shoved the bucket out of sight under
the security console, and hoped that Harlan wouldn't trip over it before
she had a chance to empty it.
"Less go fast," Jinti chuckled."
"We *are* going fast," Richards pointed out.
"Okay then. Fast*er*..."
"I'mm hold the console together, you see if you can make warp four. Hold
on, it might get a bit bumpity..." he wrapped his arms round the console.
"And...GO!"
"ZANZIBAR! ZANIBAAAR! AND WE ALL LOVE ZAN-ZEE-BAAAR!" the voices roared
in unison as the ship sped - a litle more smoothly than the past ten
minutes...towards the ill-fated ship of that name.
=/\= Marine Barracks - Starbase BoB =/\=
"That tickles," Davey Tennant squirmed in his seat as Corporal Kreshna
wielded the follicle stimulator.
"Don't complain," Angel was pacing a little, studying her papers as if
her life depended on it. Which, she reflected, it might well do.
Chris Ecclestone was looking out of the viewport and called over,
"...'Ayup, the shuttles are coming back in. Doesn't look like they got
shot up or anything."
Angel's head shot round and she joined him, and stood in silence for a
few moments. "Right, they'll have landed back in the shuttlebay...no sign
of Red Alert yet, so maybe it's a go..." she gripped her papers harder.
Tennat had meanwhile been released from the clutches of Kreshna and
picked up his own papers and Jonno took his place. "Still tickles," he
went to rub his head.
"Don't scratch," Angel said sharply, before Kreshna could say the same.
"That'll be at last an inch long tomorrow if you don't fiddle with it."
Ecclestone snickered, "Maybe you ought to borrow that, Davey-boy, in case
you ever get a date..."
"Oi! shut it, tosser..."
"Shut it both of you," Angel snapped. "This isn't exactly getting into
character, is it? Concentrate, both of you. Because I'm going to grill
the fek out of you tonight and if you aren't perfect - then you aren't
going."
They subsided into silence and she glared at them for a few minutes more.
"I'm going to sort out the rooms," Angel gave them a last warning glance
and returned to her quarters. She was dressed as a civilian when she left
them fifteen minutes later. Her hair was down and brushed neatly around
her shoulders, and she was wearing a charcoal grey suit with a pale blue
blouse, and smart black pumps. She'd dug out a small briefcase and looked
suitably businesslike. It wasn't what she'd planned to wear for the
actual mission, but was quietly smart enough to book rooms.
Given the amount of space available, it wasn't hard to find quarters.
She'd spotted a civilian room allocation service earlier, a small
franchise that had one of the nearly empty decks and paid for rental of
the rooms at a very cheap price, re-letting them for somewhat more. The
advantage was, they were used to casual tourists and the rooms at least
were reasonably well tended, unlike most of the crew quarters on the
station.
No questions asked, and she sorted out rooms for the small 'trade
delegation' she was travelling with, obtaining pass-chips for all four of
them, at different intervals along the deck. Maybe they'd swap again when
it got busier but it would suffice for now.
It had taken only an hour, as she had allowed herself the luxury of a
stroll along the promenade for a while, getting used to walking in
character as opposed to her usual efficient stride.
Returning to the Marine Bay, her cohorts were all follicled, and sitting
quietly reading their papers. "Let's go," she jerked her head and as they
made to follow her she ised the pass-chips. "Get your stuff and get moved
in. One by one, look casual. Get changed into civvies first, and then
we'll go and sort some suitable stuff out from the Wardrobe. Bring a
case. The level we're on is practically deserted, which is good. We'll
meet later and go over the background cover stories. Then tomorrow you're
going to the hairdressers."
"Barbers, surely, corp?" Tennant protested.
"Barbers won't do the job properly. You're not grunts any more. You're
men of stature. And you're going to look right."
Flipping her own pass-chip happily, she left to set up camp in her new
quarters. "Room five-oh-three, nineteen hundred hours," she told them in
a voice that suggested lateness would mean deadness.
=/\= Storeroom - USS Caledonia =/\=
Regina knocked sharply on the half hinged door of the storeroom and
waited for a possible response. None was immediately forthcoming. Then
again, it was late at night, so late that under other circumstances
Regina might have been taken for a covert burglar. She waited a fraction
longer, and then let herself in.
"Mr Dop?" she called. Her surveying gaze took in every nook and dust
ridden cranny. Farlak Dop was apparently elsewhere. "Tut," said Regina to
herself, although she had expressly chosen to appear at a time when the
quartermaster was unlikely to be around. Regina had an inexplicable
distaste for the man. She did not approve of anyone being in charge of
supplies except for her.
Now she strode confidently to the shelf where she had recently seen
stacked her large order of slug pellets. She stared confidently at the
allocated section where each box had been placed, one on top of the
other, ceiling high. She reached a confident hand to withdraw the first
of said boxes - and paused.
There were no slug pellet boxes.
"Drat that man!" Regina muttered. Farlak had obviously reorganised
everything. One couldn't trust a man to do anyone these days, least of
all fulfill their marriage sacrements. She began rooting through various
boxes. The storeroom went back and back, and as she was swallowed further
into its depths it became murkier and murkier, damper and damper, until
at last Regina stepped on something sludge green and squishy.
"Eeeeeeeeeeee-uuurghhhh-EW!"
The flattened slug slimed out of either side of her shoe. Regina hopped
on one foot in disgust. The other foot accidentally hopped on the slug's
remains. "EEWW!!"
She backed away carefully and examined the carcass. Just looking at it
made her feel faint. Regina thought she might detest slugs more than
anything in the world. Still, this clear evidence made her feel rather
smug. She had told McArnh they needed pellets and he had not believed
her. Now she extracted a white piece of chalk from her handbag and drew a
line around the body. It was a rather wobbly line, due to the mode of
decimation.
Thoughtfully, Regina surveyed the murder scene. She took a few thoughtful
photos from her holo-camera before continuing her quest.
Half an hour later, Regina was covered in dust, had discovered four more
slugs oozing up the walls and had a narrow escape from treading on
another one. A far back container revealed out of date bags of salt, but
apparently they were still in working order, as the four slugs were now
zero in sentient form. Salt was not Regina's preferred method. It made a
despicable mess. She had had to scoop up the remains of each molten slug
and scrub the spot of its demise severely with disinfectant.
Still, no slug pellets. Two hours on, she had to admit there were no
boxes in the room. Someone must have moved them. Regina entertained the
brief hope that it might have been for a sensible purpose, like killing
slug outbreaks, then dismissed it. They would have been moved for some
inconsequential reason, like providing a ladder or holding up a wall.
Regina left the storeroom for the relative civilisation of her office.
=/\= =/\= =/\=
'WANTED!!!! MISSING SLUG PELLETS'
ran the sign. Unfortunately, there had been a slight mishap with the font
layout, so the eventual printout actually read:
'WANTED!!! MISSING SLUG
pellets. Please report to R. Monkfish-McArnh if you have seen this vital
piece of equipment. There are slugs on board. Do not give in to their
vile numbers. Return the slug pellets at once.'
Regina took a number of posters and pasted them on department and
individual's doors. Flyers were scattered over the Bridge.
Finally, she printed out several enlargements of the deceased and chalk
outlined slug photograph, and placed them on McArnh's desk with a flyer.
Yawning but still angry at slug related outbreaks, she was about to leave
the office and retire when her computer beeped. The preliminary divorce
papers had come through. Regina checked that her compensation specified
the acquisition of Grey's whisky, and scrawled her signature into the
padd. She added the padd to the collection of goodies.
As the office door shut behind her, she could have sworn she saw
something green and slimy squeezing into a nearby hole.
=/\= Flight Bay - SS Womble =/\=
"These are the birds," offered the man before them all. Tapping at the
nose of the pre-owned Knight class fighter, he continued on with a
painted grin of achievement across his face. "Got five of them, all
fitted with rapid fire pulse canons, state of the art micro torpedo
launchers, secondary torpedo rungs and two-hundred isoton shields. These
ladies can hit nine-point-four at maximum warp and had...i said *had*
twin ITD-970 V fusial thrusters...Don't all drool at once boys, and
lady," he added, winking to the lone woman with the group.
"And," a lanky man began, pausing, "Mr. Verbumbum, why have you hired us
to test them?"
"Ha! That's the question isn't it, the 'hundred dollar' question,"
Verbumbum replied with an excited bounce. "Well, you see, you remember
how i said they *used* to have twin ITD-970's...?"
"Yess..." Answered the lanky man again, nodding as if communicating with
the mentally lacking.
"Well..." Verbumbum leaned in, seemingly about to expose the world's
greatest mystery, "NOW THEY HAVE TRIPLE ITD-220's!!!"
Several of the group exchanged questioning glances with one another - and
a few raised eyebrows in secret intrigue. From the back a whistle emerged
and stepping forth the woman nodded in reply to the employer's statement.
"You know, i heard news that someone was playing with 200's...but 220's.
You know they're not legal yet, right?" She crossed her arms and waited
for his response.
"Oh bah," Verbumbum waved a hand. "That's just paperwork. Once the right
people know they're stable they'll be the hottest thing in the FighterTrader!"
The woman coughed in reply and stepped back. "Stable? Is this why you
hired us," she asked with arms wide.
"Oh you'll be paid enough! You all saw the add and you all signed the
line, including you," he pointed lazily towards the woman. "So don't
start getting twitchy now. Anyway. Let's get down to business..."
The rest was a long, constant blur to Eddie. He'd remained off to one
side, staying quiet due to an uneasy feeling of isolation and a weird
sense of what he could only think of as homesickness. Every now and then
he'd nodded - just to pretend he was listening - and then quickly sank
into the same daydream that had followed him since his departure from
Raven three days ago.
"So!" Exclaimed Verbumbum, snapping Eddie out of his reverie. "Azure, you
take the K-5, Barks the K-1 and you," he motioned to the quite man by the
bay wall. "The K-4."
Eddie looked across to the man then slowly narrowed his eyes and focused
as the words began to form in his mind. "K-4?"
Verbumbum only pointed to the far left fighter with a look that conveyed
annoyance, impatience and 'i only have to deal with these people for a
few weeks, i can handle it...i can handle it'.
With no prepared retort - and no real energy to form one - Eddie
uncrossed his arms and made his way towards the shiny plane.
"You got much experience?" Suddenly asked the woman, stopping him with an
outstretched arm. The question seemed partly loaded.
Eddie stopped and passed a glance between the obstacled hand and who he
assumed was 'Azure'. "I guided a few cargo haulers into dock at a
waystation a few years back, that do?"
Azure scoffed and lowered her hand. "I faught in the Aegis war of ninetynine, *and* passed time as a quadrant courier for two years."
"That's good, well done. Now i'm going to get into my plane," Eddie
replied, passing her with a pat to the shoulder and a nod. Hoping he
could ignore her for the rest of the contract (as he had no intention of
counting her stripes for four weeks), he climbed the steps to his cockpit
and dropped into the seat swiftfully.
He waved to the cropped short, black haired woman as the fighter canopy
slid peacefully over his head; protecting him from the oxygen sucking
space (and people) outside.
The fighter controls were more advanced than he'd been used too, and a
few of the bigger, redder buttons made him feel intrigued and concearned
at the same time. "I, won't press them," he absently ordered to himself.
Shifting in the small space, Eddie clipped the buckled straps across his
chest and re-adjusted as they pulled him sharply into the back of the
seat.
"...don't forget," chirped a distant voice. After a moment he realised it
was coming through the phonics on a helmet wedged between his ankles.
Eddie picked it up and plonked it onto his head. The voice of Verbumbum
continued, "These birds are twitchy, the thrusters need configuring and
fine tuning so don't think they'll be the easiest ladies to control
straight away. Now get out there and let's get started."
"And be careful docker boy," Azure muttered across the internal communit. "This isn't a little waystation in the middle of nowhere, this is-"
Eddie cut the communication with a flick of a gloved finger, "Ahh shut
up." Glancing through the canopy, he eyed the lanky man called Barks and
then the woman as they fired up their respective fighters. Initiating the
start-up of his own, he broke from the control panels and watched as the
bay doors began to part.
Outside, the other pilots - and Verbumbum - had stepped into an overview
room with a large window, watching the three guinea pigs in their planes.
Verbumbum watched on with an excited bounce, the others simply awaited
their turn.
"Okay, forward is down, backward is up..." Eddie repeated, mimicking the
stick control. Beside him a crack of fire suddenly exploded and Azure
bolted from the bay with a streak of red and yellow behind her; soon
after Barks snapped horizontally and disappeared into the abyss as well.
Forcing the thruster controls, Eddie felt the fighter creep slowly
forward. And then, after weighing up what he had to win or loose, he
jammed the controls into place and burst out of the doors like the cork
from a bottle.
A concearned nerve tugged at Verbumbum's cheek as he watched from above,
unsure he'd see the K-4 come back in one piece.
=/\= CO's Office - Starbase BoB =/\=
"Captains Log, stardate 240604.05. I'm in a bit of a quandary. The Away
Team mission was unbelievably successful, and we seem to have encountered
a race of generous, peaceful people who want nothing more than to welcome
us to their homeworld. It seems too good to be true."
Mulder paced as she dictated. "And yet, apart from the obvious mystery of
where they came from, I can see no real reason why not to grant shore
leave. Everyone on the station is practically hanging out of the nearest
airlock hoping for shore leave. It'll be wonderful for morale. Imagine
finishing a shift and then being able to go laze on a beach for several
hours..." she was imagining something similar herself.
"The USS Pendragon has just arrived, and with the USS Enforcer here as
well, we are well covered for support. I mean, there's only a million of
the Felim, and add in BoB's own defences, we could wipe them out if they
tried anything silly. Except, of course, they show no indication of being
anything other than completely peaceful."
"Besides, as Lieutenant Brey remarked, it's the Starfleet thing to meet
new species and make new discoveries. The fact that every new species
we've met so far has been an unmitigated disaster would account for a lot
of my pessimism, I suppose."
"So, on balance, I have decided to grant shore leave to all. If we play
it safe at first, and everyone follows safety protocols, then we can
assess the situation and enjoy ourselves at the same time."
She wandered over to the viewport and looked down at the planet below.
Maybe, for once, their luck had changed for the better.
"Computer, send the following text message to every console in the
station, and forward on to border patrol ships docked."
"To all Starfleet crews and civilians, from the office of the Station
Commander."
"Following the successful mission to Faylinn, shore leave may be taken,
subject to the following safety protocols listed below."
"Everyone going planetside must have an innoculation booster shot. To
ease the strain on our own facilities, the Enforcer has agreed to cover
our civilians, and the Pendragon will do the Marines. All BoB station
crew and officers will be dealt with by our own infirmary. Anyone trying
to go planetside without one will find themselves spending a very long
time in medical quarantine - so don't risk it."
"Shuttle flights to the surface will be running 24/7 initially, and each
planetside visit will last for four hours only. This is to allow as many
people as possible the chance to get down there whatever shift you work and also to start off gradually, whilst we are continually assessing the
situation. Both the Pendragon and the Enforcer are running shuttle
flights likewise to help supplement our own flight department. These
flights are all free of charge, but if you've got any spare strips of
latinum to show your appreciation to the pilots, I'm sure they will be
much appreciated."
"Civilian and privately owned shuttles may also transport passengers down
- but you must register with Flight bay and follow procedures as above.
Feel free to charge a small gratuity for your trouble, I'm sure people
will be happy to pay."
"Please can passengers report back to your shuttle promptly at the end of
your four-hour visit. If there are any no-shows the pilots are under
orders to call it in immediately and we have to fear the worst. Everyone
will be evacuated from the surface and all visits halted. If you are
found alive, you will be named & shamed, and possibly end up the most
unpopular person on the station. Don't risk it."
"One final point - for your own safety, do *not* go off anywhere on your
own. That would be most unwise. Until further notice, all individuals or
groups *must* be accompanied by either a marine or a security crewer.
Stick together, and stay safe."
"These protocols may sound stringent, but remember this is brand new
territory here, people. If all goes smoothly the regulations will be
reviewed in a weeks time, and we will be able to grant longer stays
planetside. But for now - keep alert and keep safe."
"The first flights will begin at 0800 hours tomorrow morning - so go dig
out that bikini or scuba diving suit, and have a wonderful time."
Mulder circled her shoulders and stretched. A bit of beach time would go
down nicely. *If* she got chance.
"Computer, send message to every console on the station. Attach away team
logs to ensure everyone is fully briefed on their protocols. And forward
logs and this order to Gamma Command, to keep them in the loop. Done?"
[Affirmative. Sent]
"Good," Mulder returned her gaze to the planet below, and wondered what
mysteries it might give up over the coming weeks.
=/\= Infirmary - Starbase BoB =/\=
Due to the Captain's recent message, Shinandra was faced with several
terrifying prospects at the moment.
Well, maybe not *terrifying* but certainly nothing to be looked forward
to.
First and foremost, however, was seeing to the inoculation of any crew
wishing to go to the planet. She had already received the earlier message
regarding the upgrades and then dug these out of the computer and begun
the process of making them. However, now she had discovered that the BoB
Infirmary would be responsible for all Fleet crew on board. Thank God
that those border patrol ships were taking some on, but still...
To make this a more efficient process, she had pulled up a roster of the
Starfleet Crewmembers here on BoB and did the count. Now, of course, she
wasn't entirely trusting this to be *accurate*, but she figured that it
could at least provide a starting number. From there, Sandra and she
worked on making enough for that number plus some. Next would be the
arrangement of shifts to make sure there was some one prepared and ready
to deliver the inoculation without any of them chaining themselves to the
Infirmary.
Well, without *all* of them doing so. Nandra, for her part, was
volunteering to take on more time. She wanted to make sure that her staff
got some time off to head down, but she wasn't looking forward to it too
much.
This was the second part of her uncomfortable prospects: shore leave.
Now, really, she enjoyed a vacation and beautiful planet as much as the
next person. She had grown up on a planet that was quite lovely and she
had enjoyed that aspect of it (the family, not so much, but the location
was great). This though...she just wasn't sure about it. It seemed too
good to be true and Nandra had decided long ago, even before BoB though
life here strengthened it, to not trust that too much.
Besides, she might see...more people down there and she was still in the
wallowing-in-guilt phase of things. Then there was that 'marine or
security' officer part of the directive, which opened up fearful doors.
No, no, for the moment, Shinandra was perfectly content to
replication and rotation of inoculations for all those who
enough to head down that way. She had the bad feeling that
be able to resist it for too long, but she planned to try!
perfectly good excuse, after all.
work on
were brave
she might not
She had a
"I think we're almost ready," Sandra announced with a smile.
(The technician was looking forward to this planet thing. Nandra just
didn't understand it. Had she not been paying attention all this time?)
"Well, at least we got a head start before the Away Team headed down,"
the Doctor replied with something of a forced casual smile as she carried
a tray over to a back cabinet.
This would mean, though, that more would have to be made later as general
stock, but that wouldn't been too much of a problem and it was another
excuse to avoid having to face the temptation to take Shore Leave.
"I think that does it for the day, you can head home," Nandra told the
other woman with another smile, this one a little less forced. "I'll stay
on til the next shift comes in," she added.
Sandra nodded, "Thanks, Doc. Take it easy and try to get down there
yourself when you can. I think the break would do you good." With that,
the woman left.
'Not a chance in hell,' Nandra chuckled, shaking her head. She was taking
too many chances lately. It might be crazy up here, but she was more than
happy to remain in the familiar insanity for a while longer before
bracing the unknown. Besides, she had the feeling that there would be a
fair amount of people jumping at the chance for some break time. She did
wonder what was wrong with them all.
Suddenly, she had the realization that maybe her paranoia was growing
just a bit beyond normal...okay, maybe a lot beyond normal. Perhaps she
would make herself take some shore leave time on the planet, after all...
=/\= Promenade - Starbase BoB =/\=
The hour was late enough that Avery had decided to close the shop for a
while. There were no customers, what with all the fuss about the planet,
and he was just not in a people friendly mood. If business was good, he
would've found the way, but as it was, the lack of traffic was just
making it easier to dwell.
In an effort to escape beating himself up, he had decided to take Rocky
for a walk. The Pug was estatic for the chance. In the store, he got to
meet and greet people who came in, but he liked the chance to go out and
meet people. He was definitely a people Pug.
As he walked, he couldn't help a stop by a viewport. It certainly looked
beautiful and the news that people were being allowed to go down and take
a little planet side vacation time should have cheered him up. He wasn't
normally the type to hold on to negative feelings like this, but this
time...he just couldn't help it.
He could not escape the feeling that he'd pushed too far and now might
have lost his chance for good. How could he not feel that way? They spend
the night together and she wakes up almost in tears from regret. How does
one handle that? He didn't know...
It'd never happened to him before.
But then again, Shinandra was always different for him...She was the
reason he'd moved here when he never would have dreamed doing that for
any one woman, yet here he was. It wasn't that it was unpleasant being
here. Most the people he'd met had been nice and the atmosphere was
usually good... when there weren't minor disasters, but even those didn't
seem to linger over-long and business was generally good.
Now though, he had to wonder if he'd just screwed it all up for good...
Still looking down at the planet as he was lost in thought, he told
himself that he couldn't think like that. He would just have to back up
and go about it from a different, slower, angle. He wondered if she was
planning to go down for shore leave. Perhaps that would be a way to make
it up to her. He hadn't forced her to do anything she didn't want to do
on some level, so there was still hope and perhaps the planet could
help...
"Hmm," he thought out loud. That would be worth seriously considering.
Already starting to feel better about things, Avery smiled a small smile
down at Rocky who, in turn, grinned back at him as they began their walk
again. Avery continued to cast glances out the viewport thoughtfully.
Rocky would have done the same, if he would've been tall enough to see
through it.
=/\= Shuttle Departure Bay - Starbase BoB =/\=
"Seven, eight. Oi, you pair, will you sit still? Trying to do a head
count. Don't want to leave you there." Dhillon checked the passenger
manifest. All were present and correct. Gerty was his baby, and that mean
covering the cost of her conversion from a pit pony to a fancied filly.
Flights down were supposed to be free. Dhillon however like the clink of
loose change. Under fives were travelling free. Juniors below sixteen
were twenty slips. Senior citizens were the same.Adults and above sixteen
were twenty five. Students and wastrels were twenty two. There was a
family ticket for sixty. Dhillon cast his eye over the full cargo hold
that had been converted into a flight tube. It was a cheap as chips, but
it was free market to under cut the competition, if there was any.
There were kids, adults, seniors. A couple of security crewman, acting as
muscle should the need arise. Thankfully, no furry animals. There were
however several students who may require some water at some stage. "He
won't really leave us there, will 'e?" "Mummy, Dhil-len Ha-vane l-looks
scary." "Be quiet, girls, and buckle up. Mummy feels a headache coming
on. Yes, he''ll probably have you for dinner if you pair don't behave."
Dhillon stopped to lean on the headrest of the seats. One whimpered, to
recoil. The other was a little braver. Choosing to blow a raspberry, and
stick out a forked tongue. Dhillon chuckled to do the same. The Micksture
twins laughed. "Dhi-len not scary." Dolly wimpered, as her legs are
slapped. "Told you, Dolly, shut it." Dhillon frowned; maybe he had an
alternative view on parenting. He wasn't about to share it, as both Dolly
and Dolores started to wail and wimper. This required something quick and
easy. Dhillon reached into his pocket, for his secret weapon. Kids and
confectionary, never mind the dentist. Dolly stopped gurning. Dolores
hicced herself quiet. They grinned yellow smiles, rather wide eyed.
"Sweeties, Dolly-" "Dolores, he's a stranger, not allowed."
Dhillon shrugged, snatching back the confectionary. He started to walk
towards the cockpit. "Never mind, girlies. Thought your mum could do with
a break. Shall have to find another map reader, and assistant." The girls
looked at each other, then at the mother. The woman was looking strained;
this was meant to be nice trip out. A nice little adventure. This was
just too stressful; she would have to make an appointment with the
counsellor on her way back. Arihana would understand, how *she* managed
to juggle a kid and a husband... "Aww, please mummy. Dhil-len not scary."
"Mummy, please we be good, won't we dolly, please, please."
Dhillon was about to close the door to the cockpit, he looked at his
watch. They really ought to get a move on. Two pairs of mauve legs and
two pairs of black patent shoes were pelting towards him. What had he let
himself into? "'Old it, Dhil-len" "Yeah, w-w-wait a minit, Dhi-len." "Map
reading whatsit, Dolly gonna be de assistant." "Me? Dolores, no, you
gonna be the assistant."
Time was ticking on. Dhillon could only laugh. Laugh as the two sisters
attached to one another, and sought to do serious damage, tooth and nail.
A little toddler sized cyclonic blur of elbows, curls, and black patent
shoes.
"Hh, eugh, watch eye, och, below the belt, Dolly, Doleres, Dolly, no,
Dolores-HOLD IT!"
Dhillon reached into the mess that was red curls and lilac taffeta. The
collar of each four year old at the end of each hand. Dolly dropped at
the end of one seat. "One map. Schup and sit there. Honestly, no one
fights like a pair of girls." Dolores, the heavier of the two was at the
other end. "A peep from either of you, and mommy gets it." Dhillon sat
between them at the helm.
"You *are* scary." "Don't like you, Dhil-len."
Dhillon reached into his pockets, extending towards the girls a lolly
each. "Oooh,kiwi." "Me likes raspberry."
"We like you, Dhil-len." "Yeah, we got sweeties."
Some time later, they were with touching distance. Dhillon was waiting
for permission to land as the twins sat forward. Sit forward and look at
this brave new world, that was for the course of this trip, their oyster.
They were excited. This was their first trip away. The first since Daddy
disappeared on a walk with Mummy. Mummy had to see the brain bending lady
everynow and again, when it got too much. "Girls, sit back, please.
Unless you both want an early bath." The girls did as they were told,
even buckled themselves in. Dolly tossed the map to one side, finding
something that looked interesting down the side of the seat. There was
Dhillon, and Arihana, a long time ago, up close and bit too personal for
a four year old to know about.
"That's her, the brain bending lady, look, Dolores." The one twin reached
across the pilot to look at the image. "It is, and what you doing, Dhillen, you kissing that lady?" Dolly reached over again, much to the pilots
fuss. He took the image in the the middle of the exhange, he'd forgotton
about that, and screwed it up to toss it over his shoulder. The girls
started to chorus, as Dhillon attemped to land. It was an old picture,
one of the ones he'd nicked from the box in storage. "Dhil-len and Awihana, sittin' in a twee, k-i-s-s-i-n-g-"
The shuttle shuddered to a halt. Dhillon looked first at Dolly, and then
at Dolores. "Girls, she's not nice. Not worth kissing, never mind
anything else. Arihana may be nice to most people, but to me, to me she
was awful." This was ridiculous, eliciting sympathy from tweenies. This
could work in his favour. "So if you see her..." The twins listened
intently; they had got a free sweetie. "Floor her. She's mad, bad and
dangerous to know, alright?" The twins nodded. Nodded as Dhillon got
ready for the travellers to disembark.
=/\= Down on Faylinn =/\=
She had been here a while. Just watching the tide come, lap the shore and
go back out again. She couldn't hear it, the gentle sound of the sea come
in and out. She was too busy listening to the bass in her ears. The
counsellor stood up, dusting off the sand that attached itself to the
black and white sarong. The warm sand coated the soles of the Counselor's
feet.Arihana was alone. Alone for once. No Dhillon, Suraj was the other
side of the gamma quadrant. Save for the swimsuit, the counsellor was
stripped bare of all essentials. She was in her own skin, rather than
contained and cosseted in a uniform. She was just her, Arihana, whilst
she was here. The assistant chief counsellor went the same way as the
teal.She no longer answered to Mrs.Havane, and being mummy was also no
more.
The counsellor dropped the white sphere, it landed with a soft thud onto
the sand. Playing on sand stretched every possible muscle you could think
of and then some. Was a bit like running at full pelt as your legs filled
with lactic acid. The electronic sound started to resonate in the
counsellors ears as the track changed. Arihana started to concentrate as
she lifted the sphere up and down a few times with the inside of her
right instep. Other than Psychology, this was what she did. Dhillon
aside, this was what really turned her on, made the adrenalin flow.
Arihana could escape into a world of her own, her own little domain.
Play, come on play that song Play it all night long Just turn it up and
turn me on Play, come on DJ play that song You know that it turns me on
(DJ just play that song) Just turn it up and turn me on
The counsellor wiled away some time. Just catching her own passes,
darting over the sand. Cutting through the sand, it sprayed back in the
breeze. The same way a bow of a ship would in water. She could feel the
gentle breeze from the sea. She was so caught up in her own little world.
It had been such a long time. The music was still playing in her ears, as
she passed and played. The sphere bounced and belted up and down the the
sand. This was what it was like to play on the Copacabana, or in the
Seychelles. On a beach of fine white grain with the sun beating on your
back. You were the centre of your own little universe, in this case,
Arihana's. Arihana's little universe, the world was revolving around her
for a change, and screw the lot of 'em.
DJ just play that song 'Cause I want to be dancin' all night long (DJ)
Just play my, play my, play my play my, play my favorite song
Burning. That's what's the sensation was. The top of Arihana's shoulders,
across the nape of her neck there was an angry red smudge where the sun
had caught her. Would probably be awfully sore later, Arihana couldn't
remember where the sunscreen went. Still she carried on; she was in the
zone for the moment. Her legs were feeling heavy, and the counsellor was
severely dehydrated. The soles of feet were numb. Numb from kicking over
the sand, numb from beating the ground. Arihana was spent. The energy had
been expended, but she wanted more. To carry on, break through that
barrier. Break through that wall, and slingshot out the other side. To
sample, sample the spirit of ecstasy.
I don't care if everybody's gone Turn it up 'cause it turns me on Keep
dancin' all night long (night long) It feels so right that it can't be
wrong (can't be wrong) I get the chills up and down my spine Whenever I
hear that song of mine When it stops better press rewind (play that -)
Let me hear it one more time
Arihana swung around on her left leg to pivot. With her right, she had
swung around to boot the sphere towards the ocean. It landed with a
splash, and bobbed on the surface. Arihana sighed, her legs were very
heavy. Her heart was going like a hammer and tongs. She was severely
dehydrated, as her stomach thought her throat had been cut. Arihana
pursed her lips, to inhale. Inhale the fresh air, to get rid of the
oxygen debt.The ball was getting further and further out. She shrugged.
Suppose she could go for a dip, nothing better to do. The black and white
sarong fluttered to the sand as she padded towards the sea.
Play Come on play that song (Now Mr. DJ) Play it all night long (I've
asked you three times) DJ just play that song Just turn it up and turn me
on (Play my - - song!)
That was better. Nothing like a dip to cool down. She would probably be
sore, from the deeper shade of olive and the lactic acid. Arihana stepped
up the shore, cradling the sphere under her arm. Size fives leaving
imprints quickly demolished by the lazy ocean that hugged the shore.
Still she was in her own little world, as though no one could touch her.
Wasn't quite that feeling of being invincible, but of being whole. Whole,
as opposed to one half of a duo. One third of the triad that had been
him, her and little'un. She was one unit in herself. A standalone
individual, with no strings to tie her down.
"There she is." "D'ats her, the brain bender." "She was nasty. Nasty to
Dhillon." "Yeah, let's go sort her out."
The counsellor put a palm over her eyes; there was movement that
interrupted the glare of the sun. The movement appeared to be two kids.
About fourish, locks of flailing red curls ontop of which there were
straw bonnets. The movement, it was headed straight at her. Uh-0h. Next
thing she knew, the ball had dropped, Arihana was being tackled. The
sounds in her ears had started to crackle and fizzle, the track skipped.
Not tackled, tackled.
But rugby tackled.
By two four year olds.
Play, come on DJ play that song you know that it turns me on DJ just play
that song (turn it up, turn it up,...) 'Cause I want to be dancing all
night long (turn it up, turn the track up)
Arihana sat up, propped up by her elbows. One. Two. Oh, no the Micksture
twins. She was seeing their mother in her professional capacity.
Mrs.Micksure had lost her husband in suspicious circumstances. Selective
memory and trauma. "Hello, Awi-ana." "Us two. Me, I'm Dolly, this is
Dolores. We're the Dhil-len Havane fan club."
Arihana dusted herself off, tying the sarong back on. This was odd. Since
when did Dhillon have a fan club? She tutted at Dolly, the sarong had a
hole in it. "I'll send you the bill, Darling." Arihana rolled the sphere
underfoot, arms crossed as she looked at the twins. Floored. By them,
these two devils in blue dresses. "You know, he'll only break your heart.
Fall off that pedestal you've got him on." Dolly stepped forward, for
Arihana to push her back with an index finger. "Darling, I'm three foot
taller and heavier too." Dolly shuffled back, only for Dolores to step
forward. "Same goes for you, Sweetheart." What was this, an ambush?
"Listen, Havane isn't some budgie or hamster you can keep as a pet. Think
you can keep him in a teapot or something?" Arihana craned her neck
forward, a little painful, but it was for effect. "Now, beat it."
There was was a woman coming towards
before I play the Roy Keane defence.
girls wimpered, as they were scooped
were being a nuisance. Arihana shook
as gold. They're a credit to you."
=/\= Down on Faylinn =/\=
them, the mother. "I said; sling it,
You heard of bone crunching-" The
up by their mother, asking if they
her head, and smiled. "Nope, as good
Arihana sent some sand flying. As the muscle finally turned up from where
ever he hand wandered off to. Despite being in a world of her own,
Arihana hadn't technically been alone. "What? Now you turn up. I get
flying tackled by tiddlywinks,...you are so a waste of time. Could have
been one of them," The counsellor was ready, ready to launch some vitriol
at the security crewman she had had been assigned, "oh, you what you
found?" The chap unfurled his palm; the sea water glistened on the
sufarce of the shell. "Hmm, give." Arihana took the ocre coloured shell
in her hands. "Now that, is pretty. Bit like you, really. Shame 'bout the
brains, eh?" The crewman smiled, even said thank you.
The breeze was starting to pick up, and whatever sun shed it's light here
was starting to dip on the horizon. Arihana rolled the sphere forwards,
as she and the crewman, "What was your name, again?"
"Seb, Counsellor", walked towards what looked like a jetty. The
counsellors black and white sarong fluttered out behind her. Already she
was a little sun kissed looking as they sat on the end of the
jetty,letting their feet dip into the water.
Arihana took the little
a moment, please got no
still damp from her dip
Pretty in a boyish, out
within yelling distance
got tweenied.
blue ear buds from her ears, "Could you hold them
pockets." Arihana untied the brunette locks,
earlier. Seb was alright, better than nothing.
of a Ralph Lauren advert way. He had stayed
whilst she had indulged herself, aprt from she
"Counsellor, you've burned." Arihana shrugged, as the crewman turned his
attention the sphere the counsellor had brought down with her.
"You don't say much, Seb, for a fella lumbered with the shrink. Contrary
to popular belief, I don't bite." Now it was Sebs's turn to shrug, it
wasn't his job to talk, just look intimidating. Arihana laughed, to poke
a freckled but toned shoulder, "Intimidating? As opposed to pretty,
didn't I say?"
Seb grinned again, and asked about the shell that Arihana had set between
them. "Clever boy, change the subject before she jumps your skin." The
counsellor picked up the shell. Looked very much like a conch. "As much
as I'd like to, Seb, the energy and inclination, have depleted of late.
This shell. "Looks very pretty, don't it, Seb. Wonder if it works the
same way." Seb looked confused, As Arihana put it to her lips. The
counsellor blew into it a moment, before coughing a spluttering. Seb
shook his head, "eugh, salt. Try again." Arihana inhaled, deeply from the
diaphragm. There was dull roar; a coupe of other beach bathers looked in
their direction. Seb looked a little surprised. Arihana did too,
surprised as how with her lung capacity she had managed to get as sound
of it.
"Shame, can't take it back." Seb removed his feet, to shake of the water.
They had to get back He held out a hand to help the counsellor up.
"Ta, I'm not that old, but thank you." Shaking her feet dry, Arihana
stood up, her knees clicking. The temperature had dropped a little. She
hunched up her shoulders as they walked back up the jetty. "Tch, four
hours, don't half go quick." Seb nodded, dribbling the sphere along the
jetty.
Seb waited outside what was a beachhut type thing. Waited as the
counsellor changed. Changed back into uniform, she wasn't in the mood to
give anyone the satisfaction of telling her off for not being properly
attired. Arihana had the dark duffle bag slung over her shoulder as she
knotted the brunette tresses into a bun. They walked to the shuttleport
where they had been dropped of earlier. They were one of the last ones to
board. "Sorry, my fault, Seb-sorry, crewman..." Seb looked up from his
daze "Flint, counsellor", Arihana half smiled, "...did say, I lost
track."
They took their seats, as Arihana winced to pull the duffle bag over head
to sit down, having slung the bag over head. "You only have to ask,
counsellor."
Arihana frowned to look at Seb. "Ask, what for?"
Seb smiled, a boyish smile, as he reached into the duffle bag, drawing
the cobalt blue cord. He waved the bottle at the counsellor. "Sunscreen."
The counsellor found herself being pushed back as the shuttle started to
climb. "W-oah...Ta, seb, I'll keep that in mind..."
Seb tossed the sunscreen back. "Should hope so too, Counsellor. Would
hate to rub you up the wrong way."
Arihana laughed quietly to herself. So that is where the sunscreen went.
"I'll have to check the duty rota, counsellor."
"Hmm, what for?"
Seb smiled, as the shuttle got within the reach of BoB. Arihana stood up,
the same time Seb did to reach her bag. Hmm, pretty, very pretty. "Oh,
great, so you'll come with me every time.You're my very own body guard,
aint you Seb?"
"And guard I shall, now that I know what you look like in a-"
"Ach, grow up...no, not like that...,oh, man, I can't win-"
=/\= Shuttle Bay - Starbase BoB =/\=
Gideon went over the equipment strapped down in the shuttle again, not
the equipment itself, but the restraints holding it down. If it was going
to be a combat landing, the ride would be bumpy and he didn't want
several hundred pounds of heavy weapons flying through the air to crush
his skull.
Sergeant Drake Bastion stood to the rear of the shuttlebay checking over
an inventory padd of all the equipment they would be bringing along-
specifically the weaponry. Drake hoped that it wouldn't come to using the
big guns but if it did, he would be ready.
Gideon stepped back out of the shuttle and eyed his team for a moment.
The seven marines looked ready, but two of them had never heard a shot
fired in anger before. He'd have to keep an eye on them. He nodded to
them and sauntered over to the other shuttle. "Sergeant Bastian?
Everything all set for your crew?"
The young marine looked up and stiffened to a formal stance as his
superior officer addressed him. Drake hadn't had much dealing with Gideon
since being assigned to BoB, but in the brief conversations he'd had, he
understood how things worked with him. "Absolutely sir," he said with a
nod to the containers, "Just going over the inventory list one last time.
We should be prepared for just about anything if something should go
wrong down there."
The senior Non-Com didn't smile, he rarely did that, but he nodded his
head thoughtfully. "Good." From a cargo pocket he produced a deck of
cards. "Care to pass the time," he asked as he waved the deck.
Drake looked at the cards then glanced at the padd in his hand, "Sure
thing. I'm just finishing with this," he said as he deactivated the Padd
and motioned to a crewman to load the containers into the shuttles hold.
"What are we playing?"
"Gin rummy. The only good thing that the Anglos ever imparted to my
people." Gideon started shuffling the cards while they were walking.
"Ah, a personal favorite of mine," he said with a grin. In truth, Drake
Bastian had never played the game before as it wasn't a typical Risian
past time. Of course, he was not the kind of man to admit an inadequacy
in front of a superior officer so he decided to just bluff it.
Gideon pointed to a spot along the wall near some storage lockers. He cut
the deck one-handed and started dealing.
Sitting down on a bench, Drake took the cards dealt to him. He glanced at
his hand and wondered if it was a good hand. Biting the inside of his
cheek, Bastian furrowed his brow thoughtfully. He felt this made his
appear to be weighing all his choices as far as the game was concerned.
Inwardly he was cursing himself that he didn't involve himself in the
game when his unit would play back on the USS Australia.
"I've been reviewing the evals that you've sent to Captain
Vaughan...Major Vaughan...whatever he is this week." Gideon sorted
through the cards in his hand, trying to make some of them match up.
"Seems like you've got a couple of decent prospects."
Bastian looked up at the question, "The team is doing well, sir," he said
as he glanced from his cards towards the junior snipers standing nearby,
"I've been conducting tests with them on the holodeck and I can see a few
with a natural ability...some of the others might wash out before the
final exercise but it's still too early to tell."
"Well, Mr. Vaughan has left it up to you to pick not only your three but
another four to form the core of the second team." He scratched the back
of his neck. "I'm assuming that the ones over there are your best?"
He looked towards couple whom he was taking down to the surface with him,
"They're the good ones, I assure you," he said with a chuckle, "Their
names are DaSani and Langdon."
Gideon turned his gaze on the younger soldiers. *They keep getting
younger every day, seems like.* "They seem eager enough, but are they
going to have the patience to get through the qualification course?"
Bastian stared intently at his cards, wondering what all the shapes and
pictures meant, "To be honest, I had my doubts at first but they've
really shown promise. They aren't ready yet but they will be," said Drake
as he looked up, "This is the end of the road for most of them, sir. If
it's not BoB...it's no where."
Gideon watched the Sergeant for another moment before the corners of
mouth twitched upward minutely. "You have no idea how to play this game
do you?"
The younger marine blinked and couldn't muster a good enough expression
to lie his way out of the question. Grinning instead, Drake nodded, "Not
at all, sir."
"Then allow me to teach you the finer points. Maybe later we can move on
to poker." Gideon's left eyebrow arched. "I'm assuming, of course, that
you do know how to play one of those disciplines."
"Poker?" he responded, "Ofcourse I know how to play poker. Who doesn't
know how to play poker?" Again, Drake had no idea how to play poker-he
was Risian damn it. Risian's played games involving titillation and
jamaharon, not silly card games where the only way to win was by means of
deception and trickery.
Gideon was about to reply when Specialist from Ops walked up to them.
"Your missions are scrubbed. The Away Team is on their way back right
now, no problems reported," she added to forestall any questions before
turning and leaving again.
Gideon swept the cards into his hand and straightened the deck before
putting it back in his pocket. "Saved by the bell, Bastian. Guess we'll
work on gin rummy next time."
A wave of relief washed over Drake as he suddenly saw his pride remaining
intact. Standing from the bench, he tilted his head towards Gideon and
smirked, "Looking forward to it, sir."
Gideon nodded and looked over to his own crew. "BREAK IT DOWN! Get all
that equipment back to the armory!"
Heading off back towards his junior snipers, Sergeant Drake Bastian
ordered them to stand down and head back to the holodeck for further
training exercises. Others on this base might be preparing for some R&R
but for his team, they had much work to do if they wanted to remain in
the Corps.
=/\= Main Security - Starbase BoB =/\=
The Ensign was not impressed. The Base looked like it was falling apart
at the seams, she was impressed however, that it had the capacity to
"float" in space. Not only that, but BoB smelled like it had not been
washed in ages. Savannah could have gotten much more graphic, but after
the days she had getting here, she did not have the energy to waste
words.
Crinkling her nose, she took one big sniff and let the smell disperse.
"Well, it's better than where I was." She spoke to herself. Pondering for
a moment, the Ensign continued. "On the good side, I'm sure I could get
easily laid and not have to seek permission to do so." That comment
raised some eyebrows with the fellow crewmembers that were departing the
ship with her. Smirking, Savannah thought that if they can't deal with
me, that's their problem.
Meandering down the corridor, she caught the gaze of a certain older crew
man that was obviously having fun undressing her with his eyes. "God, he
must be a horn dog." It was not that Savannah wasn't pretty, she was a
knock out as all Star Fleet women are, she just had not tended to herself
like a proper woman should in a few years. That was number two on her
list. She needed to go and prissy herself up and from the reading she'd
done concerning the various shops on the base, she would have some fun
doing it. Knitting her eyebrows, she was puzzled when she saw the ensign
emblem on his collar. Wow, thought I was bad.
Not focusing on where she was doing, Savannah turned the corner and
bumped into another younger crewman. He belched his acknowledgement of
the Ensign. She rolled her eyes and went to the first computer she viewed
on the wall. "Location of main security department." The computer said
nothing. Savannah started to get irritated.
"Computer...location...of...main...security...department..." This time,
the computer replied with a sick little "blip". "DAMN." This time the
computer stated. "Request not understood, please try again."
"Screw it."
Procrastinating locating her quarters, she chose to locate the security
department to properly introduce herself. Upon arriving, she glanced
everywhere attempting to find a person to talk to.
In main security, Frank Palmice had gathered some things and prepared to
take some leave days, when the Captain really cleared the planet for
visits tomorrow. More people in his department had that idea, apparently,
as the bay was suspiciously empty. Quite a benefit that it was most
likely to have guards going down with every party of BoB'ers, as that
meant that at one point, most security crew were actually enjoying the
scenery on the planet.
"What are you talking about, 'complaints about your noisy neighbors'?"
Frank asked both confused and annoyed with the civilian calling their
office over a commlink. Sitting behind the central desk where all calls
came in - filling in for the colleague who nipped out for a visit to the
lavatory, or so he claimed, as that was half an hour ago by now. The
bastard. Frank had no patience for nagging civilians at any rate.
"You complained yesterday too? What? Is this some kind of hobby of you?"
Frank asked incredulously, when the civilian responded. It was sad
really, people without a life, sitting in their quarters all day, staring
out a window, if they had one, or at the holovid all day. Take himself,
he thought; how often was he in his quarters? For sleeping, and other
activities made in bed, maybe.
"Being funny? No, I am not being funny. I had just about enough of you,
you cow. You want to know what I think? I think you are a pesky old hag,
and you better pan down, or I'll send down some boys, who'll cut you a
few new bodily orifices faster than you can say brutality!" With a punch
he hammered out the connection, and sighed. This was bullshit. He got up
from the central desk. This wasn't his problem. Just about to make a step
to leave, he was surprised to see a female Ensign he didn't know, wearing
the yellow of a security or engineering. It had to be a new security
officer, he figured; they weren't lucky enough to get another permanent
engineer.
"Yes?" Frank inquired, slightly disturbed. Taking her into better view,
she looked a little worse for wear, but otherwise pretty enough. He put
down the bag with things he got, conjuring up a slight smile. "What will
it be?" he asked with a grin.
"Got any extra men around here I can borrow for a bit?" Savannah stated
seriously. "I'm playing. Ensign Savannah McAlister, new Security
officer."
"I'm Specialist Frank Palmice," he introduced himself. Shrugging to the
nearly empty office around him, he added, "Most people are anxious about
the planet that popped out from nowhere, I am sure you saw it when your
shuttle came in? Well, it wasn't there before." Apparently. "So, eh,
people are looking forward to having a good time, down there. You know, a
little sunshine, some fun...a little skinny dipping?" he chuckled.
"So, the planet isn't holding the StarBase in place with it's
gravitational pull? Huh...I wonder how this thing stays put." Bending
down, she knocked on a deck plate. Standing back up, she winked at the
crewman in front of her. "Skinny dipping sounds good as long as there are
no naked Ferengi running around. I couldn't eat for weeks if I saw that!"
She meandered over to Frank, caught his gaze, and locked onto it. Her
eyes were rather captivating when she locked her gaze on someone. "Soooo,
what are you planning on doing on planet Fun?"
"I, uh," he started, trying to get out of his head the gruesome graphic
image of an exposed Ferengi of either sex. "BoB? Gravity?" the scientific
difficulties surrounding keeping BoB in one piece alone were boggling his
mind already, let alone that he dared consider how they were keeping it
in orbit. "Um...I wouldn't know about that. Oh, my plans?" he shifted the
conversation back on track. "Hitting the beach, of course!" he exclaimed,
merrily. "And your plans?"
"Well, after I officially report in here...I'm planning on hitting a
salon to polish up...3 years in a penal institution and my complexion has
gone to hell." Savannah grinned, waiting for a response.
"On the promenade are some salon's...," he started, but he sure as hell
didn't want to be the one to suggest either Heavenly Bodies, let alone
Restricted Hair Space, if only half the stories and reports that came to
security were true. Thank the universe he was a man. He then frowned,
recalling what she just said. "Ahh," he said, unsure what would be a good
response. "That's a bummer." She was in a prison? You don't say. "Maybe
the girls over at Pisces Delight have some...suitable clothing, and
other... accessories, restoring your beauty," he grinned, folding his
arms.
"I'll have to try them then." Savannah thought for a moment of how nice
it would be to have some relaxing outfits for some down time on the
planet and feel over all back to feeling like the woman that she was.
"Okay then. Frank, it was a pleasure to meet you. I have to get to my
quarters and settle in. It was great meeting you." With a sly, sinister
smile, she edged in closer to his personal space. "If you are serious
about that skinny dipping...let me know." Turning to leave, the Ensign
winked at him as she left. Her eyes flashed as she entered the corridor.
Men are so fun to play with, she mused.
Frank grinned to himself. That was something else. What on Earth did a
girl like that see in an ugly mutt as him? Then again, getting herself
stationed on BoB, and having spent time in prison, for whatever reason,
she had more than likely some psychological issues...What was he
thinking? He had other things on his mind, and packing to do! In high
spirits, he trotted out the Security bay.
=/\= McAlister's Personal Quarters - Starbase BoB =/\=
After her interesting conversation with "Frank" Savannah found herself at
her quarters. They were not the most attractive housing she had viewed,
but they would work. She set out to make them as comfortable as possible
with what little she had. Her uncle, god bless him, had made sure that
Savannah was well taken care of as far as credits were concerned. In the
last year, he and her aunt had sold the pub that her parents owned and
deposited the credits into an account along with her inheritance from her
parents. Basically, in a nut shell, she was set.
However set she was, McAlister wanted or needed little to get by. That's
what life in a prison will do to you. You appreciate every little thing
you have, even if it's a used data padd containing fiction that is twenty
years old.
Giving a cursory glance around her quarters, she sighed as she located
her duffel bag. Unzipping the bad, she reached in and grabbed the first
thing that her hand touched. It was a picture of her parents in a frame
she had made in primary school. The idea of a paper picture was
considered rather barbaric, but to her it was a gentle reminder that in
one part of her life, she was desperately loved. Bringing her index
finger upwards, she traced their outlines.
Physically, she resembled her mother. Mouth and attitude wise, she was
her father. Savannah's mother was graceful, with a small delicate frame
and long flowing hair. When she was quiet, the Ensign's father was loud,
with comments that would make anyone blush and laugh hysterically.
McAlister missed them terribly. So much so that the pain she felt never
truly went away. It was a constant ache that made her soul cry out for
peace. Savannah had gotten used to it, so she was able to cover it up
excellently. However, if one was to look for a long period into her eyes,
they would get the sense of her anguish. The eyes are the window to the
soul, and her soul hurt. The Ensign was skillful at covering it up. Her
comments and crassness at times set people to focus on her words instead
of what she was attempting to say with her eyes. It was easy, after years
of pretending it had became second nature to her. It was these periods of
alone time that sent her into her "dark place". There was nothing she
could do except surround herself with people to ease the pain. Savannah
knew that wasn't normal, but it's what had to be done.
In the quietness of her quarters, she felt alone. Very alone for the
first time in years. Savannah did not know what to do. Sitting on the
makeshift couch, she placed her hands in her lap. Her picture beside her,
she permitted years of pent up sadness flow out. A single tear drifted
down her cheek as she sat in utter silence. Her heart still broke.
Savannah's actions that brought her here were meant to heal her, not hurt
her more. She recalled the day that she heard that the men she kidnapped
and tortured were found innocent. Something in her snapped that day as
she sat in her containment cell. In her heart of hearts, the Ensign KNEW
those men murdered her parents. Hell, she was a witness to the incident.
At the tender age of 15, her parents were everything to her. She reveled
in their beings as they loved her with all their souls. That night still
haunted her, it would for any adult let alone a teen. To see the ones she
loved, phase red execution style was, at times, more than she could
handle.
Wiping the tear from her cheek away, she rose and set to work
straightening what she had. "Computer, Celtic Woman, Track 3." The
strains of "Danny Boy" encoded in her quarters. Taking a minute, she
stood still, closing her eyes and enveloping herself in the music that
surrounded her. Sighing, she felt herself relax. It was going to be okay.
Yes, she would be lonely, and yes, she would still hurt, but she was
finally out of that place. In almost all aspects, she was free. Free to
talk as she pleased, free to love as she pleased, and free to eventually
seek revenge on the men to whom murdered her parents. This time, they
would not go free as she was...they would suffer permanently. Opening her
eyes, the emerald coloring contained a new depth of an emotion. Pure,
unadulterated rage.
Her parents would be avenged...
=/\= Shuttlebay - Starbase BoB =/\=
Harpoon chucked the bulging, oversized backpack into the luggage hold
with a satisfactory thump and took her seat with the other three girls.
Pisces Delight had been shut down for the afternoon. Even Octopus could
not bring herself to make one of them stay behind. Besides which, they
had a new product to try out, and Algaenon's weight would be needed to
test the equivalent of three people.
Octopus settled into her seat, taking
various occupants of the shuttle, all
with emotions ranging from disgust to
children close to their laps. Harpoon
a corrupting sort of way.
great pleasure in eyeballing
of whom were regarding the girls
mild terror. Mothers kept their
grinned at the parental figures in
They were all dressed for the occasion, of course. The girls had donned
bikini tops in violent shades, each marked with a small pink fish, and
extremely wispy sarongs tied loosely around their waists. Algaenon had
had to tie three sarongs together, and one of her arms had already
swollen from the innoculation. She was munching through a bag of cookies.
She also wore a sports cap.
"Want one o'these?" she mumbled, offering a Smartie cookie to an
expectant looking child. The parent drew the child's eager hand quickly
away. "No, thank you," she said primly. Algaenon shrugged and shovelled
it into her own mouth.
Four seats were still empty, and the passengers, impatient at this
unthought of opportunity to get to the nearest Feylinn beach, were
growing irritable. As various sighs and huffs bounced around the
shuttle's shell, Octopus nudged Stickleback. "You got the banner?" she
asked.
"I have it here," Stickleback patted a neat rucksack wedged in between
her legs. It proclaimed Pisces Delight in large letters, just in case
anyone should fail to recognise the girls.
"Friggin hell, can't we just leave?" demanded Harpoon crossly. The next
moment a smooth languid voice filled the shuttle.
"So sorry to have kept you all waiting. I had a little luggage to put on
board..."
Attired in a sleek yellow sundress, with elegant strappy sandals and a
large floppy hat, Emma Finn smiled beneath her oversized sunglasses. She
was not remotely sorry to have held up the shuttle. Nor did she care to
be travelling with such commoners, but Mitsuko's recent delinquency had
made it necessary to observe protocols for the moment. Fortunately
whichever BoBcat was flying had succumbed to Emma's charms. She was not
sure if it had been male or female.
"Oh no," whispered Stickleback under her breath. Harpoon's hand went
tetchily to a safety pin. Algaenon looked ready to faint. Even Octopus
went a mild shade of blue.
"Miss Finn," she said boldly, trying to conceal her shaking. This proved
tricky with so much flesh on display. "So nice to see you - "
Hidden behind those monstrous glasses, Emma's blankness seemed even more
inpenetrable than usual. "Why, girls," she said silkily. "I had been
meaning to...catch up with you."
Algaenon gulped.
The security officer allocated to this flight had been about to reprimand
the latecomers. A dazzling smile stopped his mouth.
"Miss Finn, Miss Finn, it's a shuttle! I'm gonna fly one of these
shuttles!"
The majority of the passengers echoed Algaenon's gulp as Mitsuko bounded
on board. She was dressed identically to Emma, except that her hat,
sundress and shoes were the colour of blood, with a slight tie-dye effect
to suggest splatters. Her sunglasses were the colour of old dried blood.
Mitsuko grimaced universally. "Hello everyone! I'm Mitsuko. I like
tractors..."
"Now, now, Mitsuko, take your seat," said Emma calmly. Mitsuko walked
awkwardly to her seat. She was not comfortable in heels. Two underlings
followed in the Finn train, their purpose as yet unspecified.
Fortunately, the pilot was running to a schedule. They began immediately
to observe the take off procedures, and Ms Finn and the Pisces Girls were
reduced to polite exchanges and shaky debates over their respective
trade.
"I see Pisces *Delight* appears to be doing well," said Emma coldly and
with extreme sarcasm. The passengers were divided over who to support.
Surely the girls were wanton trollops, but Emma Finn and her bodyguard
were satanic. Besides, that Mitsuko had demolished the Promenade not so
long ago.
"Yes, ma'am," stuttered Octopus, hating to be reduced to such a
subservient level. "Very well, thank you for asking, I'm sure it's an
honour."
Mitsuko swung her legs casually and accidentally-on-purpose kicked a
small child. The child began to wail. "Sorry," said Mitsuko, grinning.
"My leg sort of slipped."
The passengers began to side with the girls, especially when Algaenon
gave the child a bag of cookie crumbs.
Altogether, it was rather a relief when the planet began to fill the
viewports. Sounds of excitement hopscotched from group to group. They
began the final descent. Touchdown was accompanied by a medley of
squeals.
"This is it, girls," Octopus said. "Time to hit the beach!"
Emma allowed them to leave the shuttle before her. As Octopus passed, she
only said mildly, "We know where you live."
Octopus chased the security officer hastily outside and gasped as the
sunlight hit her face...
=/\= A Popular Beach - Faylinn =/\=
It took as long to unload Emma Finn's sedan chair as it had to get it
onto the shuttle on BoB. Once clear, however, she perched imperiously
upon it and conveyed the required appearance of extreme wealth as her
minions conveyed her the short distance from the landing area to the
nearest beach. The excavated shuttle, tailed by their security officer,
made an colourful progression, adorned with various hastily purchased
swimsuits, towels and picnic baskets.
A salt wind wound pleasantly through Emma's hair. Mitsuko bound happily
at her side, lurching from foot to heeled foot and frequently colliding
with the chair bearers, who cursed her under their breath.
Ahead, Emma could see the scantily clad figures of the Pisces Girls
trekking down to the beach. They were taking turns to drag a large
haversack between them. Algaenon lost her hat and scampered after it. The
ground beneath them turned steadily to rough, tufted grass, to fine white
sand. The sky overhead was perfectly clear. Emma could not remember the
last time she had seen clear sky.
"Miss Finn, did you pack my spade?" Mitsuko asked.
"Yes, Mitsuko, it is in the hamper," Emma replied. Mitsuko had not felt
the need for a bucket. Assumedly she intended the spade for other
purposes. One of the chair carriers suppressed a groan, reminded of the
hamper's location on his back. Miss Finn was not heavy but the designer
chair was.
"SAND!" shrieked Mitsuko, finally giving up her shoes, tossing them aside
and racing forward, whereupon she began throwing up armfuls of sand and
spraying a few of the passengers ahead of them.
"Don't touch anyone, Mitsuko," called Emma, who intended her bodyguard to
have as little contact with possible with the native Felim. It was better
for both parties. She allowed the carriers to struggle a little way into
the dunes, before stepping elegantly from the chair and removing her
sandals. The heat of the sand on her bare soles was almost scorching.
"Thank you, you may go and do - whatever it is you want to do," Emma
addressed her employees. "Meet me back here when the party regathers."
Emma and Mitsuko
a designer towel
Mitsuko unpacked
sticking the end
dance around it.
found a relatively isolated spot
on the sand and stretched out in
her shovel and began to beat the
firmly in the sand and beginning
on the beach. Emma laid
her designer bikini.
sand with it, before
a sort of pagan ritual
Emma opened one eye and closed it again. Then she reopened it. Something
had caught her attention.
Down on the shoreline, where the waves were throwing themselves upon the
backwater, four girls were gathering around a swelling, pink - floatable
boat. Three were thin and one was decidedly large. The large one was
pumping up the boat.
"Go on, Algae, give it some!" floated a reedy voice up to Emma. Miss Finn
raised herself on one arm and prepared to watch this spectacle.
Jumping in the surf, Stickleback was in heaven. "The beach, the sea, the
sand!" she said in ecstasy. "L'amour!" She tossed aside her sarong with
an epic gesture. The wind captured it instantly. Harpoon skulked in a
black bikini. Octopus was primarily concerned with getting the boat blown
up.
It was a vast affair, six metres square, and a violent shade of magenta
pink. Fishes in a lighter shade of pink swum leisurely around its plastic
hull. In large, bubblegum letters, the floatable boat proclaimed its
name: THE LOVE BOAT!!! Some distance away, Emma Finn did not have to
squint to read it.
"Yes! Almost there!" shouted Octopus in delight. Algaenon was ready to
faint from exhaustion. Harpoon took over the final stint at the air pump.
The boat was ready to launch. The girls heaved their craft into the surf,
where it bobbed in a foot of swilling water. "Jump in!" cried Octopus,
hopping lightly over the side. Harpoon and Stickleback followed suit.
There was a dangerous moment when Algaenon entered and the boat dropped
several inches in the water. But it held.
"Ah, bugger, no oars," remarked Harpoon. They leant over the sides and
paddled violently. One end of the boat reared out of the water.
"STAY IN THE CENTRE, ALGAENON!" yelled Octopus. Algaenon obligingly did
so. The boat steadied. They moved steadily away from the shore.
"Now for the banner," said Stickleback excitedly. From the rucksack, she
unfurled a large, sail like piece of material. The girls raised it
awkwardly.
From the shoreline, those who wanted to could read:
THE LOVE BOAT IS HERE!!!!!!!!!!!! COMING NOW TO PISCES DELIGHT!!!!!!!
EVERYTHING YOU NEED FOR A SExxxxxxXY AFTERNOON ON THE SEA - DON'T DELAY ORDER YOURS TODAY. [[FOR UP TO SIX PEOPLE.]]
"Oh good lord," muttered Emma Finn to herself, raising her sunglasses in
brief disbelief.
In the boat, the girls high fived in satisfaction. "Now what?" asked
Harpoon, as they drifted along the shoreline.
"Oh, we just go up and down the beach for a bit," said Octopus cheerily.
Algaenon stood up. The boat teetered. Everyone screamed. "Just - stay
there," said Octopus faintly.
Emma Finn watched as the Love Boat embarked up and down the beach, its
banner fluttering provocatively. Mitsuko was growing bored of attacking
the sand. "Miss Finn, can I go swim, can I? Can I?"
"Yes, Mitsuko, you may. But don't speak to anyone, or hurt anyone. DON'T
take the spade."
Mitsuko ambled down to the shore line. After a while, her gaze locked
rather fixedly on the Love Boat. Hurling herself into the waves, she
began to swim. Emma rubbed a second layer of sun lotion into her
immaculate body and settled down with a D.H.Lawrence first edition.
=/\= A Beach - Faylinn =/\=
After a while Emma found she couldn't concentrate on her book. Perhaps it
was the pure luxury of real daylight. Perhaps it was worry over Mitsuko's
bobbing head, a little way into the ocean. Mitsuko appeared to be
imitating a great white shark. One hand above her head, she was
pretending to be a fin and homing in on various innocent swimmers. Then
she would hurl her body out of the sea and collapse back into its embrace
with a giant splash.
Most likely, though, it was the material she was engaging with. Reading
about other people's relationships was always accompanied with a derisive
sneer on Miss Finn's behalf, but the curious love-hate relationship
between the two fictional Brangwen sisters had brought her musings to
speculation of her own brother. After the initial out and out hostility,
they appeared to have settled into a live and let live philosophy.
Nonetheless, he was knocking about the base like a loose cannon.
She had not seen him for some time. She wondered briefly if he was
engaged in duty related to this mysterious new planet, and in what
capacity. Somehow, the Marines did not seem quite right for Simon.
Emma shrugged. What did it matter, after all. She had no intention of
revisiting the past. She had killed it for a reason. Really, she ought to
be considering the trading possibilities on Feylinn. But a natural
caution prevented her from leaping into business ventures here. Now was
the time to observe and learn. Now was the time to take advantage of the
various pleasure and beauty spots the planet afforded. Now was the time
to indulge in sunbathing.
She regarded the Love Boat with a new indulgence. As an entrepreneur, she
couldn't help but secretly admire their audacity.
=/\= =/\= =/\=
Mitsuko swam determinedly towards her destination. She could see it
ahead, bobbing in her sea-and-sky vision, like a giant pink jellyfish.
Mitsuko fingered the safety pin lodged in her bikini. She would spike the
girls with their own medicine, and get revenge for Miss Finn!
She heard their giggling as she approached. She held her breath and
slipped under the water, fishtailing the final few metres.
"I never use food," said Harpoon. "Gets in the way of the piercings,
like. Never knew ice cream could cause rust until - well, afterwards."
"I like fishfood," said Stickleback. "But of course my real mastery is
with ice cubes," she boasted.
"The thing is, do we specify services in the brochure?" Octopus wondered.
"I always think it's better to let the client ask. Then they feel like
they have control, but we name the price."
"Innit," said a sleepy voice. Algaenon was sprawled in the centre of the
boat, like a beached whale. Her skin was going steadily pink.
Underwater, directly beneath the boat, Mitsuko removed the safety pin
from between her teeth. She let out a maniacal laugh, but it was only
audible in bubbles. She jabbed once, heard a satisfactory splutter, and
swam quickly out from beneath the boat.
Instantly, air began to stream from the precarious craft.
"What was that?" shrieked Octopus. Harpoon looked violently around.
"Sabotage, man! Someone's trying to stall us so's they can pinch our
idea."
The boat dropped an inch. The girls screamed. Algaenon woke up and
screamed.
Mitsuko's head bobbed to the surface a few metres away. "Ha ha!" she
crowed. "You're going to si-ink, you're going to si-ink!"
"That cow!" screeched Octopus. "She sent you!"
"No one sent me!" shouted Mitsuko, treading water. "It was I, Mitsuko! I,
the great tractor driver and killer of boats! Me, me, me!!!"
Water was invading the boat. "Bail!" suggested Stickleback, using an ice
cream cone to scoop. "Idiot!" glared Harpoon.
"We're sinking!" wailed Algaenon.
"Lighten the load!" Octopus yelled. All three of the girls looked at
Algaenon. "Sorry, Algae," said Octopus. She grabbed a leg. Harpoon took
Algaenon's head and Stickleback took hold of an arm. They hauled her to
the edge.
"Overboard, yesss, overboard!" sang Mitsuko.
Octopus and Harpoon exchanged loaded glances. "One, two, three!" A moment
later, Algaenon's squealing body flew several metres before succumbing to
gravity, approximately over Mitsuko's head. Mitsuko saw the danger a
second before it hit. She shrieked and dived. Algaenon descended.
"I can't swiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii - "
A splash of nuclear proportions was followed by the seething waters
reminescent of an ancient Terran film, where the anxious watchers wait
for Kate and Leo to resurface.
"What did she say?" asked Stickleback.
"Can't swim," Harpoon remarked matter-of-factly.
The boat was now little more than a crumpled carpet of pink plastic,
ridged with sea water. "Abandon ship!" screamed Octopus.
Emma Finn watched with detached interest as three of the girls performed
a synchronised dive into the wake of their fourth...
=/\= A Popular Beach - Faylinn =/\=
The Love Boat had sunk. A little way off shore, Octopus, Harpoon, and
Stickleback were valiantly supporting the seal-like weight of Algaenon,
unconscious.
"Is she dead?" squealed Stickleback, on the verge of hysteria.
"No, she floated," said Harpoon illogically.
"Corpses float," sobbed Stickleback. "They ususally find dead bodies with
one hand sticking out the water..."
"She had her stomach sticking out the water," argued Harpoon.
"Just swim!" gasped Octopus. "We need to get her to shore, and she's so
frigging heavy!"
Further down the shoreline, Mitsuko crawled out of the water. She had
dived only just in time to avoid the dragging weight of Algaenon, who had
crashed into the water like a torpedo. With salt water in her nose and
eyes, Mitsuko was coughing and spluttering. Still, she saw through
streaming eyes, the horizon was empty of Love Boats and their PR banners.
The bedraggled Mitsuko wound her way back up the beach, demolishing
several sand castles on route, to where Miss Finn lay, apparently asleep.
This was not the case, however, as she immediately said, "Well, Mitsuko,
did you have an eventful swim?"
Mitsuko was not sure whether Emma realized she was responsible for the
capsizing of the Love Boat. She thought she had better remind her
mistress of her great prowess.
"I have had our revenge, Miss Finn!" she gloated, her long dark hair
plastered down her back, her bare stomach revealing a minor six pack. She
executed a karate kick and spray flew from her wet skin.
"Don't do that," said Emma. "Tell me. Were you responsbile for the
downfall of that boat?"
"Yes," said Mitsuko proudly.
"Interesting," said Emma. She checked the time. "Come on, now, we must be
returning to the shuttle. We shall come back very soon, Mitsuko."
Emma gathered her belongings together. Mitsuko withdrew her spade from
the sand and slung it over one shoulder like a gun. They ambled up the
beach to where Emma's chair was waiting.
In the surf, the Pisces Girls were attempting to resucitate Algaenon.
"She's dead, she's dead!" wailed Stickleback, grabbing Octopus' drenched
sarong and wrapping it around her head like a widow in mourning.
"She's not dead," insisted Harpoon, who was applying vigorous pumps to
Algaenon's stomach.
"That's wrong, it's her heart you gotta hit!" said Octopus, thwacking
Algaenon between the ribs.
"No! She only responds to her stomach, man!"
"You have no heart! None of you have any heart!" Stickleback moaned. She
began to perform a dance of mourning, which involved strange eurhythmic
movements and writhing in the surf. "You don't care that our sister is
gone, taken by the cruel, cruel sea..." And Stickleback gazed fetchingly
out to sea.
"Sister?" repeated Harpoon incredulously. She and Octopus began a
rhythmical assault on Algaenon's heart and stomach. "We're running out of
time, we might have to leave her for dead," said Harpoon after a few
minutes.
"Leave?!!" Stickleback could not believe such callousness, but was oddly
taken by the idea of being a friend of the beloved deceased.
Fortunately, Algaenon took the decision out of their hands by heaving,
spluttering, and vomiting a large quantity of seawater. "Innit...?" she
ventured dazedly.
"Algaenon!" Stickleback exclaimed, unsure whether to be pleased. She
tossed aside Octopus' sarong.
"Quick!" yelled Octopus. "We gotta make the shuttle!"
Running, gasping, dragging Algaenon between them, the girls careered up
the beach, bumping into various occupants in their haste. "Sorry, sorry,"
muttered Stickleback.
They reached the shuttle just as Emma Finn's sedan chair was being
loaded. Gasping, the four fell into their places. "I'm gonna be sick..."
groaned Algaenon. An obliging mother handed her a bucket. She was
violently ill.
Emma Finn raised one eyebrow in disgust. Mitsuko, opposite the girls, was
disappointed at Algaenon's recovery. She glared evilly at them all.
Harpoon glared back.
"Don't think we're going to forget," she muttered.
"Forget what?" said Mitsuko innocently.
Harpoon and Octopus glared, united. But with Emma Finn and her sunglasses
looking on, they were powerless. "Don't worry," said Octopus, ostensibly
to the girls, but really to their opponents. "We'll get another Love
Boat. That one was only the prototype."
A few passengers hemmed. The return journey passed in silence.
=/\= Counsellor Dharma's Office - Starbase BoB =/\=
The boots, cobalt blue with a silver starbust on the side were positioned
next to the comm.comsole. As was the black and white sphere. Arihana was
waiting, waiting for the babysitter to turn up. Arihana unhooked the the
belt from the hook next to the door, only to put it back. The away team
logs on the mainfraime, and the message from the Captain all suggested
that there was no need take the scabbard. The door swished open, it was
the crewman. Crewman Seb Flint. He was ready when she was. Nodding,
Arihana picked up the boots and ball.
=/\= Faylinn =/\=
Arihana
dropped
no plan
and see
and Seb walked away from the Shuttleport. The counsellor had
the sphere to her feet and dribbled it as they ambled. There was
as to where they were going, "We'll just follow the wind, Seb,
where it takes us."
Seb nodded, the cobaly blue boots tucked under his arm. It was odd. Why
was she referring to him by bame, and not by his rank? What was he, her
new found bestfriend? He was curious. "Counsellor, do you play?"
The counsellor tossed the sphere from foot to foot, before catching it in
her palms. "Used to. Quite a bit actually."
The counsellor and Seb arrived at a square. The perimeter of which housed
shops, restaurants and cafes. Arihana shifted the sunglasses from the
bridge of her nose, onto the top of her head. She looked around, moving
some of the frindge that was going chestnut in the sun. "You got a plan,
Counsellor?"
Arihana nodded, as she proceeded to juggle the ball between her feet.
"Yip. Call it an education. You ever played?" Seb shook his head, he knew
the basics. With the juggling stopped, Arihana asked for her boots. Seb
was happy to oblige and handed them over. Taking off the ordinary boots,
she fastened the cobolt blue football boots. "Right, well, Seb, I'm about
to cause a scene. You may want to step away for a moment. But you will be
needed in a bit." Seb was ever compliant, and moved away to sit outside a
café. He even ordered a drink.
This was probably not the best way to introduce yourself to the locals.
It was Arihana's way of introducing herself. The only thing to suggest
that she was a counsellor, was the colour of her uniform. Starfleet was
something of an alien concept round these parts. As was a certain sport,
for years primarily played by men, in teams of eleven. The
Captain,amongst others, had already broached the idea of Starfleet. The
least Arihana could do was supplement their knowledge. The counsellor
forgot, forgot that she was being watched by an entire piazza. Again,
Arihana retreated into her own little world.
This would be a display. A public display of tricks. In her head, the
counsellor was standing on the centre circle of a pitch. A proper grass
one, as opposed to Astroturf that acquainted you with some relative of
carpetburn. The ball was juggled from instep to instep. The black and
white markings blurred with spin, as the ball graduated to her knees.
From the corner of her eye, Arihana could see that a crowd had formed.
Mainly kids, but a couple of adults. All murmering rather inquisitively.
The sound of studs. The sound of studs on stones. The clattering sound.
It was like music to her ears. So much so, there was rhythm to the
Counsellors movement. It was still there. All that she had learned, the
skills acquired and honed at Queens Claremont. It wasn't just the skills
on the pitch that she had learned. Games and training had been punctuated
by lectures of the glory years of footie through the centuries. From the
Christmas day kickabout dring some war, to the sexy samba style played by
some chap called Pele. Sexy samba style and the team from sixty six. The
counsellor stopped. Rather breathless, as she rolled the sphere
underfoot. The crowd suddenly fell silent. "Hi. Alright?" There was no
response. Arihna looked around, looking for a familiar face.
Seb waved. There he was. He stepped forward through the crowd. A quick
one two, you couldn't play on your own. There were a string of passes
between the crewman and the counsellor. "You lemon. Need glasses, pal."
Arihana had her ankle clipped to land on the floor. She even feigned some
dissent. Some of the kids laughed. Seb winked, a bit of a staged tackle,
kids still laughing at the woman who had been doing so well. Arihana was
helped by Seb, nice arms. It was time for some audience particpation.
Arihana beckoned. Beckoned at some of the kids to come join them. At
first, they were hesitant, didn't want to be drawn in. A few minutes
later, with some gentle persuasion, they came into the centre. There was
a starshaped arrangement as passes were stung together.
Arihana tucked the black and white sphere under her arm as the kids
departed. They had been there a while. Just over three hours. Arihana
sighed, well that had been fun. There was a break at the edge of the
circle that had formed. "Oh, dear, Seb. I think I've caused some
trouble."
Seb shrugged, would see what the problem was. Three individuals stepped
forwards towards them. The one flanked by two others, subordinates
perhaps. Similar to what Parvis had said was on the computer. There was
no stern look about them, they appeared affable, quite pleasant really.
Arihana decided to break the ice. "I'm sorry." The figure looked at her.
"For causing a disturbance, wasn't my intention." She half smiled.
The figure in the centre mirrored the smile, although with a little more
warmth. "Not at all, we've been expecting visitors. Your name?" He
extended a hand in greeting.
A greeting Arihana was happy to reciprocate in shaking it. Her mind going
to overdrive, there was a lot you can tell about a man from his
handshake. Not bad. Not bad at all. The counsellors smile was getting
stronger. "My name is Arihana, this is my colleague, Seb." The crewman
nodded, the nod mirrored.
"I see. My name is Peren. I have municipal control of this town.
Welcome."
Hmm. Municipal control. Made him the mayor. "Perhaps we can show you
around,-Arihana-there are many places of interest here."
Arihana nodded, that would be nice, only for Seb to remind her that time
was getting on. "Yes, I'm sure that, that there are many places...sadly,
I've to return..." Arihana pointed in a skyward direction. "Perhaps, when
I do return, I can take up your offer?"
The Mayor nodded, conferring first with his colleagues. "Very well. We
shall expect a return visit. Nice to have met you, Arihana, -Seb-."
Arihana extended her hand again, this was interesting, as it was shaken
again. "Like wise. Peren. If you don't mind, shall take our leave."
Arihana and Seb left to walk back to their pick up point. Arihana looked
back briefly, to catch the mayors' eyeline. Well. That had been
interesting, seemed a nice chap. A very nice chap. She was intrigued.
Very intrigued.
"Counsellor,if you don't mind me saying. You look starry eyed."
"I do mind, Crewman. So shut it."
=/\= Vaughan's Office - Deck 124 - Starbase BoB =/\=
Cade glanced up from the padd's on his desk. "Ahh, Sergeant Bastian. Step
right in."
Walking into Vaughan's office, Drake Bastian squared his shoulders and
held his hands behind his back, "Good Morning, sir," he said amicably,
"You wanted to see me?"
"I understand your snipers-in-training are doing well?"
Drake nodded proudly, "Absolutely sir. There are few of them that showing
some promise, surprisingly," he said with a bit more relaxation in his
voice, "I must say I had my doubts when I first evaluated but they're
working hard and doing better than I had expected."
"Can any of them pass the Marine Marksman School on Quantico? If so, I'll
see if I can get one or two of them in. They'd be away from us for the
better part of 6 months, but it'd be a hell of resource for us...you...to
have on the team."
The young sniper thought it over for a second as he weighed who might be
the best to go into the program, "Yeah, I think it would be a good idea
for a couple of them," the idea began to grow on him and a small sense of
pride welled up inside at the thought having two of his pupils getting
into advanced training, "I can get you there names and performance
reviews in a couple of days."
"Good." Cade pressed his thumb to a padd and then shuttled it off to the
side. "Actually, the reason that I wanted to see you was Shore Leave." He
brought up a padd. "I noticed in your file that you have more than a
passing interest in botany, so I'm assigning you to Lieutenant Paxan
Brey, the Chief Science Officer, as her bodyguard when she goes down to
conduct her studies. Any questions?"
For the first time in a long time, Drake was actually caught off guard.
The opportunity to go on shore leave was unexpected to say the least but
to actually be assigned to guarding one of the most beautiful bodies
aboard BoB was thrilling. Bastian covered his pleasure at the thought of
being around Paxan Brey as he still remembered the stern warning he'd
gotten when he first came aboard. Pursuing officers was strictly
forbidden.
"So, I get a working shore leave?" he asked with a smirk, "And you want
me to make sure Ms. Brey doesn't get into a trouble while digging around
this mystery planet?" The question was rhetorical but Drake wanted to
make sure he had heard everything right.
"Exactly. And even though Captain Mulder has placed a four hour time
limit on the shore leaves, I'll try to work something out for you and the
others that have to work down there so that you get a little free time to
actually enjoy." Cade shrugged. "But until I can do that, it's got to be
work first. I hope that it's not too much of a burden on top of your
training schedule," the MCO added.
Drake looked pleased, "No problem at all," he said finally, "I have to
admit, it's pretty tough not being in solid ground when you're used to a
place like Risa. I appreciate you thinking of me for this assignment."
"You don't have to thank me, Drake. You've earned it. You've done some
good work with those shooters that you picked out."
"Do you have special orders for me?" he asked. The thought occurred to
him that perhaps Vaughan might want him to do more than watch out for
Paxan. Perhaps do something that only a marine could do. The fact still
remained that Faylinn was not supposed to be there and answers needed to
be found.
Cade smiled slyly. Despite his initial reservations about Sergeant
Bastian, he had to admit that he was good addition. "And what were you
thinking of, Sergeant, besides bodyguard work?"
"I was thinking more along the lines of a little recon, maybe?" he
offered while he clenched his jaw, "I have no doubt that Mulder and the
crew are doing all they can to figure out what these people are doing
here but perhaps a little more covert approach might lend us some
answers?"
"Well, on the covert side of things, I've already got some people in
motion." Cade drummed his fingers on the top of the desk for a moment.
"But, you are a trained sniper, which means you are an exceptional scout
and a trained observer. If you and Brey happened to do some sample
collecting near, oh, say, some government buildings, the perimeter of the
main military base, I would fully expect you to keep your eyes open for
threats and weaknesses."
Drake was grinning broadly now, "Got it, boss," he chuckled as he crossed
his arms, "I'll make sure to be discreet if such an opportunity should
arise."
Cade smiled and exhaled sharply. "I never thought I'd say this, but
Sergeant Bastian, I do believe that we're on the same page here."
"Good to hear, sir," he replied, "I knew it was only a matter of time
before I won this station over," he said with a flashy grin, So...when am
I cleared to depart for Faylinn?"
"Okay. I'm forwarding a list of all the marines to be used for protective
assignments to Captain Mulder and the Department Heads. Once that goes
out, get together with Lieutenant Brey and find out when she intends to
return to Faylinn." Cade pushed a padd across the desk toward him.
"Thumbprint there for weapons' draw from the armory. When you get those
times, inform Master Guns Canowicakte so he can incorporate it into the
main schedule here."
Bastian nodded as he listened, "What about weapons?" he asked, "Am I
going down there armed or would that freak the natives out to much?" The
young man wasn't worried if he had to go down to the planet without so
much as a shiv but he would prefer to be prepared with some sort of
protection.
"Sidearms only for now. But you just signed for the good stuff. Type-V
compression phaser pistol and a silenced .22 calibre slug thrower to hide
under your shirt just in case. Any knives or personal weapons that you
want to add are up to you. Anything else you need?"
The young marine shook his head happily, "No, sir. I don't believe I do."
"Then off with you!" Cade smiled at the young man's eagernes and looked
forward to reading his report on his observations of the Felim.
Snapping to a giving a quick salute, Bastian spun on his heel and marched
out of Vaughan's office, eager and happy at his new assignment. Free time
with Ms. Paxan Brey - things couldn't get any better than this, he
thought to himself.
Cade smoothly returned the salute and watched the Sergeant depart. His
only reservation was that he hoped the Risan could keep it in his pants
long enough to actually do some work...not that he was in a real position
to criticise anyone on their personal lives right now.
=/\= Command Suite - USS Caledonia =/\=
The doors clanked together behind him. McArnh drifted forward toward his
desk. At some stage he would have to transfer from the bar back up to
here. Then, he heard a noise next door which shattered this illusion.
Regina was singing to herself. She was singing in anticipation. She knew
full well that Grey was next door and assumed that by now he would have
received her gifts. The time of her revenge was near!
"It's all coming back, it's all coming back to me now," warbled Regina,
remembering the thrill of previous divorces. "There were moments of gold,
and there were flashes of - " She moved closer to the hole in the wall.
"Monkfish," McArnh said to himself bitterly. He turned. "Monkfish. I hope
you have recovered from your brig spell. I had wanted to catch you, in
fact."
"Liiiight," Regina drew out the last word delicately. "Catch me,
Commander? I daresay you have wanted to catch me for some time...now
however, it is too late, as I hope you have seen."
He regretted the words as soon as they had left his mouth, and reached
for the whisky that would rectify the situation.
Regina's eyebrows lifted. "Whisky, I see! You may wish to enjoy that why
you still can," she said coquettishly, reaching as if to take the glass.
Grey held back his whisky arm. "Come along now. If you would kindly sign
these papers, we can stop this whole marriage shambles. And then, you can
stop using my surname." He said it as encouragingly as possible.
"Your surname? You think I care for your surname? Pah!" Regina made a
little gesture with one hand. "I have six, after all. Besides, I believe
you will have seen *my* papers on your desk. For divorce!"
He snorted. "Don't be so silly, Monkfish. An annulment is far more
appropriate. If anyone were to sue it should be me, for involuntary
marriage." The padd was placed on the desk. "Besides, the Admiral has
already agreed to the annulment."
"Involuntary!" expostulated Regina. "I believe, sir, that it was your
proposal." Regina had a vision of herself in a long, dramatic dress,
perhaps in the era of Jane Austen. "I feel most affronted by your request
for annulment. Now just sign there for me..."
McArnh shook his head sadly. "Monkfish, do you not understand? I will not
agree to divorce. Now come along and put your signature there."
"Your stubbornness astounds me!" declared Regina. "I refuse to sign your
papers."
"Absolutely not!" McArnh replied, just as vehemently.
They glared at each other, locked in stalemate for some time. How long
this posture would have remained is debateable. Luckily, the whirlwind
entrance of Suicide Cat in a bungee jumping dive split the silence.
"I shall take the cat!" shrieked Regina suddenly. "And the tiger!"
"They belong to the Caledonia, not to me. So you can't sue me for them.
And while we're on the subject, that hoverchair in your office belongs to
sickbay." He nodded to the creation, which whirred quietly in a corner.
"No! The hoverchair is mine!" Regina shouted. She was not going to yield
her greatest treasure, even if the vile children had defaced it.
"In fact, there are several things that I'm sure you own that are not
yours. Including much of your inventory, in fact -" he nodded to her
capacious handbag -"which was derived from the ship's stock."
Regina's face grew stormy with the light of battle. She was on
homeground, after all. "Don't you dare think about touching my cleaning
cupboard...I'll sue you so fast you won't know what's hit you until
you're experiencing withdrawal symptoms...with no whisky...in a
gutter..." she thought for a moment. "And I shall sing."
After the recent preview McArnh looked sour at this idea. "I understand
that you are very well practised in these things, Monkfish, but alas you
would still need the Admiral's nod. And I already have it. Trying to
appropriate my drink is clearly a sign of poor manners, not to mention
alcoholism."
"How dare you suggest such a thing," said Regina loftily. "I am not an
alcoholic. On the contrary, it is yo - "
"Don't start," Grey uttered, as the cat attempted to crack its skull or
give itself concussion, ramming its head against his calfbone. "Nothing
wrong with liking a drink, Monkfish. As you demonstrated on our de facto
honeymoon."
Regina hissed through her teeth. She did not care to be reminded of the
horrendous honeymoon. She opened her lungs volubly and began to screech.
"It's all coming baaaaaaaaaaack..."
"I am not amused." McArnh wondered if she had been at the air freshener
again. "Besides, it was not me who proposed. It was those children,
impersonating me. I thought you were aware of this by now, but sadly
not."
"Children. Don't talk to me about children," said Regina, completely
ignoring the issue of proposal. It was a technique which had worked on
her previous victims. She surveyed McArnh. There was something harsh and
ungivable about him, she saw it now. Something hard and callous - almost
cruel. One could do nothing with a Man who was Rock.
"Supposing I sign your papers," she began.
McArnh nodded, stonelike. This was an encouraging sign. "Go on."
"I will sign that - " Regina nudged the anullment disdainfully. "If you
sign this." he waited. No result immediately forthcoming, she unleashed
her throat. "It's - "
"Take it out first." Grey wagged a finger at it. "Or no chance."
"Fine, I'll take out the whisky stipulation," snapped Regina, fed up of
the whole affair. "It shall just be a straightforward split. But I will
have to call my lawyer first."
For an instant McArnh realised that this firm must make rather a lot of
money out of Regina, and she through them. He tapped his foot. "Do you
have a hotline to them?"
Regina picked up the phone, glaring at him. "Hello, is that Lorcas and
Londres? Yes, it's Regina. Yes, put me through. Hello? Hello there. I
have a few amendments for the divorce. Immediately."
Regina ground her teeth and spoke in as low a voice as possible so as not
to give McArnh the satisfaction of concession. She hung up the phone. "It
will take half an hour," she said crossly.
"Then it will be rectified most soon. This is, indeed, good news." Grey
poured himself a congratulative whisky. "And then we can forget about
this whole thing."
"Believe me, Commander, I am no less enamoured of the situation than you
are. Indeed, I am quite put out. I daresay we must use the time for other
matters of import. Such as my pellets. Have you seen them?"
Grey pretended to busy himself in a padd. "There were forty-eight boxes
too many in the ship's stock, so they were transferred off at Raven.
Why?" he asked innocently.
"Trans - trans - transferred!" gasped Regina. She was temporarily
incapable of further speech. She waved a hand that indicated McArnh
should deliver an explanation, and soon.
"Given our mission, I thought we could use the storage space. Besides, I
am yet to see a slug on the Caledonia. They are not one of the creatures
that we entertain regularly. You must be a little more watchful of your
departmental spending, Monkfish. One day we might need a warp coil, or a
new box of phasers."
Regina recovered a degree of composure. She was able to stand upright
again. "I assure you that there are certainly slugs on the ship. Did you
not see the photograph of the dead one I trod on - disgusting! It was on
your desk."
He waved her silent. "Ssh, now, woman. They are slug pellets, Monkfish,
nothing useful. Do you not have enough detergent to keep you happy until
we get some more stock in?"
"Detergent!" she shrieked. "You think that is going to kill off an
epidemic. You underestimate the slug population, Commander, most
assuredly you do. Besides, without slug pellets there are an indisputable
mess to clean up after."
"I agree, there is much to clean. I am sure you will see to it
admirably,"
he said tiredly. "And get rid of this obsession with creepy-crawlies. It
doesn't become you."
Regina bulged. "How dare you - " she hissed. She felt completely at a
loss to express the sheer volume of rage she felt - almost as much rage
as the number of missing slug pellet crates - over her husband's
misdemeanours. Over the phone saved her from lunging at him with a
canister of detergent. She snatched up the receiver.
"With the greatest of ease," he spoke to himself, perhaps glad that this
phrase would go amiss with Regina's legal chunderings. He tapped his foot
and waited.
"Yes," said Regina, speaking to the unfortunate at the other end of the
line, but her eyes fixed laser like on McArnh. "Yes, I see. Good.
Goodbye." She went to her computer, gaze still unaverted, and recovered a
padd. This she flung in McArnh's direction. "The new papers. For
divorce."
He caught it. "Surely you should sign the annulment first."
"I shall not sign until I see you sign," said Regina mulishly.
"Don't be daft," he muttered at her.
"Then we must sign at the same time!" she squawked, pen poised over the
padd to enter her holo-signature. She watched suspiciously to make sure
he was doing the same.
McArnh trailed the stylus over the shiny holopad. There was an impending
sense of relief, despite the fact that Monkfish would be able to call it
a divorce. However, Gamma Fleet could call it the annulment that it was,
so he would rest somewhat easier.
It took Regina rather a longer time to complete her signature, as she had
several more names to fill in. The final one she completed with a vicious
twist. "Outrageous behaviour," she muttered under her breath. She held
out the annulment padd.
McArnh took it off her and pushed hers back towards her. "Well, that's
the end of that marriage. I must say that your wifely skills leave much
to be desired."
He had a suspicion that she would not take this too well.
Regina flounced back into her part of the office. "You were a miserable
husband!" she called back. "I hope never to speak to you again. From this
moment, we are no longer friends."
She hoped he felt the weight of this utterance.
"Too true, Monkfish, you are my Yeoman," he mentioned through the
partition, already sending the papers back to Gamma Command. A stony
silence took hold for the rest of the day.
=/\= Space - SS Womble Exterior =/\=
It had been two days since he'd climbed into the Knight class fighter
like a green pilot on his first launch. Two long days that had given him
enough knowledge to evade blowing himself up - or anyone else for that
matter. He'd come to a certain understanding with the vessel; she would
give him a few spacial bumps and a few comet clatters, and he'd not jam
too many levers and poke too many buttons. As long as he was respective
of the tetchy fighter's character, she would allow him to control her
with ease.
That being said, she still tried to fly him into anything with a
gravitational pull greater than a walnut.
"Whoa!" Eddie muttered, gripping the stick and tapping away at the port
thrusters. Kicking out the back of the K-4, he gave her a little boost
then singed the surface of the asteroid with a near hit and glided away
with a sigh. "I thought we had a deal? Me no pressy, you no killy..."
The fighter retorted with a whine, a beep and some kind of clunking
sound; R2D2 it was not.
Feeling the after-effects of the near hit, one that he should have seen
coming, Eddie drifted a little in mind. His concentration wained from
controlling the K-4 and quickly honed in on a woman he'd known, a woman
he'd been intimate with and one he'd missed for some time. This time
though the face of his dream was not Jinti, but one of a girl who'd lived
on Titan many years ago...
Her name had been Nicky and she'd worked in a bar he knew. He'd been
goaded into saying something by his usual drinking crew.
So eventually he'd gotten up and wandered to the counter. Though he never
reached her elegant side, thanks to Mike the bouncer.
The next night he'd tried again, this time with more success. Although he
hadn't talked to her, he'd gently touched her dress.
On the third attempt he'd finally caught a whiff of flowers on her
wrists. So opening his mouth he said aloud, "One bag of cheese and onion
crisps."
What had happened was unclear, even to his friends. It appeared poor
Eddie had reached, quite quickly, several dead ends.
Then one night, when the failed romeo was on the path to home. He felt
the biggest shake from his little vibrating phone.
"Yeah?" He asked, not familiar with the number. Yet when he heard the
voice, he became quite the mumbler
"Er, hey...how did you, what can i do for you. What's up? He asked. The
simple ability to construct a sentence became a lengthy task.
And that was more or less it, or it was more or less. He didn't recall
specifics, but she'd liked him who'd have guessed.
The rest would have been history - as those movies say. If not for one
ill-fated and heart breaking winters day.
But by that day, the special one with the fire and presents and tree. The
one where everyone echanges big bowed boxes with glee.
They had been a couple for nearly three-six-five. Then she simply
stopped, closed her eyes and ceased to be alive.
"Sleeper you prick, pull up!" Screamed Barks.
Eddie, who'd been completely lost in memory snapped straight as he heard
the callsign blaring in his ears and immediately noticed the K-4 was
drifting towards Barks' fighter from above. Pulling back on the stick, he
pumped the rear thrusters and blasted away with yet another near miss.
"God dammit wake up Sleeper," Barks spat with distain. "That's the second
time today you nearly rolled into something..." The callsign Eddie worked
under hadn't been his choosing, in fact many of the other pilots had
simply started using the word to catch his attention, relating it simply
to how he quite often just stood - or sat - and simply daydreamed. It had
stuck quickly, and so it had become his persona; the man who slept.
Re-organizing himself, Eddie gave a little distance between himself and
the others (including the Womble itself). Coming to a fullstop his mind
saught out the memory of Nicky once more. Why she'd died he hadn't known,
not even the doctor's could say. It was as if fate simply chose her and
that was it, she was gone. He'd not been the same after her passing
either, obviously as no-one would be, and had fallen even deeper into a
solitary travelling lifestyle.
Then a mental image of the most recent woman he'd known faught its way
into his attention. The blonde hair, the odd clothing and the jumbled,
almost perplexing sentences that she formed all swirled about; a
concoction of ingredients that created Jinti Lamarr.
He'd felt reserved on the Caledonia, unsure of how to deal with
everything. Was what they shared something fun but altogether short? Or
was it something deeper, fuller and long-lasting? When Raven had arrived
and his time to leave had come he'd taken it with gusto, almost excited
to get away from what he didn't understand. But now he was away, and far
away at that.
Eddie didn't know what he wanted anymore - he never really had - but what
he hadn't remembered, the one gift that Nicky had left him with was that
anything can happen and it can happen anywhere, and be so fleeting that
when it comes along you have to chase it and grab it and hold onto it
like you never want to let it go. He'd forgotten that, but now he
remembered... everything was for something and in leaving Jinti he'd
realised how much he wanted to stay.
"Mr Verbumbum," he suddenly spoke through the comm with a clear and
present voice. "I'm sorry but i need to borrow your fighter."
"Return of the Prodigal"
=/\= Command Centre - Starbase BoB =/\=
"It's DOCTOR JERILLION! He's BACK!" Crewman Lupha's voice rang through
the Command Centre, causing heads to turn.
"Wow," Morrie Bowers looked up, "When? Where?"
"The USS Apothecary just hailed. They aren't docking as they can't stop,
but they have one long-range transport they want us to approve. Our
Doctor Jerillion..." Lupha beamed.
"It's been, what, eight months since he had to go back to Earth?" Morrie
grinned, "I'm sure the Captain will want to know. Where is she? Can I
tell her?"
"No, I got the call," Lupha stuck her tongue out at him. "Anyway, she
should be back any minute - she only popped down to the Arboretum to see
Snookums and Sybil."
=/\= Arboretum - Starbase BoB =/\=
Mulder had her hand covering her nose and was trying to breathe gently
through her mouth, to avoids the worst of the big Sayl'reth's gaseous
bodily emissions.
"It's a bit whiffy in here," she complained.
From his bed, Snookums gave a little apologetic hiss, and Sybil finished
tenderly wiping his forehead with a damp cloth. "Snookums is a bad
Sayl'reth," she grumbled affectionately.
To which Snookums belched with such force that several small ornaments
shook on the shelf.
"How long has he been like this?" Mulder looked with ary concern.
"Three daysss now," Sybil sighed.
"I would ask the Doctor to call down here, but I don't think we have a
great deal of information in our databanks on Sayl'reth," Mulder shook
her head.
"Isss no need," Sybil assured her. "I can deal. Herbal remedies and much
gentle food and liquid. Has happened before. No drugs can help. Sayl'reth
system copes by shutting down partially to allow healing."
At that point there was a loud PPPRRRFFFFPPPPPPRRRRRRrrrrrr sound and the
bedclothes fluttered ominously.
"I have to get out of here. Take care, Snookz," Mulder bolted from the
pleasant, roomy quarters leading off the arboretum, and into the green
and pleasant land itself.
"That's better," she was breathing the floral and herb scented air with
relief. "So how did it happen?"
"Sing-a-Ding-Ding Club," Sybil said dolefully. "Curry Night."
"Ooof, that can't be good," Mulder pulled a face.
"He goes out for a drink. Then comes home five hoursss later ssstinking
of curry," Sybil's large green claws were planted on her hips. "Next
morning he can't move. Three bowls of targ madras, two bowls of tube grub
vindaloo, and several sides helping of hot chilli beans, and that's what
happens..."
Mulder tried not to laugh. Sybil had changed so much from the terrified,
pitiful bag of bones they had liberated from the Mirror Universe last
year, and Snookums at last had one of his own race after nearly five
years alone amongst humans. She didn't ask about their domestic
arrangements as it was none of her business, but she concluded that
friendship had led to much more, and they were like an old married couple
now.
"I suppose he'll be wanting to get well soon to go down to the planet?"
she said brightly.
"Shhhhhh..." Sybil put a claw to her lips. "Do not mention planet. He
does not know yet. If he knows, he will pretend to be better. And then,
he will go down and start sampling local foods. I hear they are
vegetarians. Imagine the effect of spicy pulses and beans on his system.
He will get well before he goes *anywhere*!"
"Allright, good point," Mulder laughed. "I shan't say a word. I know what
he's like - for some reason he's always been addicted to spicy food, yet
the Sayl'reth digestive system just can't cope. We even got him some
medication for the flatulence last year, but he's still going on
binges..."
"Bad Sayl'reth," Sybil grinned.
"I suppose you'll enjoy a break down there once he's well?"
"Yessss indeed. many lovely new flowers and plants. Have seen pictures
brought up. Maybe buy a few seeds and cross pollinate. Could grow some
beautiful hybrids..." Sybil's passion for gardening shone in her eyes.
"Sounds wonderful." Mulder paused, "Sybil, I know this is a silly
question, but when you were in the Mirror Universe, on the Sayl'reth
homeworld or Starbase SoD, there wasn't any planets appeared suddenly
over there, or anything?"
"Definitely not," Sybil shook her head. "If there wasss, then Sayl'reth
would have invaded them. Or Starbase crew plundered them. No planets, I
regret."
"Eh, it was just a thought," Mulder shrugged. "I'd better get back. Look
after him, and when he's fit to go down there, maybe we can go down
together?"
"That would be nice, yesss," Sybil nodded her thanks. "Maybe three, four
days before I tell him though. Much gas to work through yet. Do not want
to make bad impression."
"Too true," Mulder tried to imagine the idyllic Faylinn world smothered
in lizard farts. "No, better not, indeed."
=/\= Command Centre - Starbase BoB =/\=
After making her farewells, Mulder sprinted back up to the Command Centre
and stopped as she was walking across to her central console. Everyone
seemed to be wearing a big smile and was looking expectant.
"What's going on?" she looked from face to face.
Just then the she heard the doors swish open behind her, and a dearly
remembered voice say with affection, "Hullo, luv. Miss me?"
Hardly daring to breathe, she turned slowly round. "Ron...?" she
whispered, as she took in the figure leaning against the doorframe with
familiar jaunty insouciance.
"RON!" she flew across the room and into his arms.
The next few hours and days passed in a blur of happiness as it seemed,
for the first time that year, that the sun had come out from behind the
clouds.
=/\= Personal Quarters - USS Caledonia =/\=
Finally reaching the sanctity of his private quarters, Zeke let out a
sigh of relief. The departure from Raven was a rush of spare parts,
although of things they really didn't need. *How many floor buffer coils
does one ship need?* Zeke thought to himself as he loosened up his
uniform. Spare parts and lots of shuffling around work crews could only
add up to something going wrong somewhere.
Sitting down at his new, new to his quarters but still very old,
workstation he began typing out the daily repair log. *Repaired secondary
coupling for the starboard power distribution trunk, will need to be
overhauled at next Starbase refit. Replaced three dorsal SIF generators
from Raven stores, no extra parts could be allocated. One standard issue
federation door and door controls were correctly installed in CO's ready
room, computer tie-in successful. Gangway in Jefferies Tube Zed-Alpha
Three is missing, nobody knows where it went, doors sealed for crew
safety. Minimal stores were replenished from Raven stock, should provide
for most non-critical repairs...*
Zeke was interrupted by the beep of the comm system, "Lightwave here . .
"
Who greeted him was one of the maintenance crew on Gamma shift, "Uh sir .
. you might need to come down here. We found something that you should
look at..."
*Great* Zeke thought to himself, "Another IDN circuit in backwards and I
could kill those repair crews myself."
=/\= Harlan's Private Quarters - USS Caledonia =/\=
"Computer, begin private log" Harlan muttered and threw himself back on
the comfortable couch he had scavenged somewhere, a large glass of Janx
Spirit in his right hand and a pair of chinese exercise balls in his
left. A soft beep confirmed readiness, and Harlan took a long sip before
starting.
"Stardate 240604.07, Chief Sec Private Log. So, we've left that shiny
piece of floating debris they call Raven. On one side, it's been pretty
neat to see working stuff once again, but to be honest, it's reminded me
too much of the Archer and especially Aurora. The brig is pretty much the
same, I s'pose they come in standard modules or something. I can imagine
a Starbase CO going: Hey, I need a new brig, can you send me four cells
asap?
Anyways, as I was saying, Raven's history and we're off again to some
bull mission, in this case, go and "rescue" a freighter of some sorts.
The skip is already anxious to get his hands on that piece of wreck and I
can't blame him. Raven repair team hasn't done much on the ship, which
means we're still flying around in a rusty bucket with a new coat of
paint and a pair of fuzzy dice hanging over the Main Screen.
So what's next? I've no clue really. Leslie is still on Luna I think,
getting herself together. I haven't received word from her since her
departure, but knowing her the little I do, she'll be fine. Mostly. Ok,
she didn't look too good when she left, but since she hasn't told me
much, there's just as much guesswork I can do about it. Whatever, if she
decides to fill me in, I'll try to do my best, if not, that's ok too, as
long as she does her stuff right. Dammit, yeah, I actually miss her. She
was good with all that paperwork, and I'm frankly starting to despair
with everything that has to be taken care off. I've requested new
weaponry from Raven, and all I got back was a box with two or three
things and a note...wait, I got it here, lemme read it... Att. Lt(JG)
Harlan de Carabas. Loser. Chief Security Officer yadda yadda yadda.
Unfortunately we're unable to provide the aforementioned weaponry on such
short notice and without the proper authorization from Starbase Command.
We do see your concern though, which is why, after a little research,
we've sent you a few things that might come handy for the USS Caledonia.
Respectfully MCPO Jorgenson Quartermaster Starbase Raven Operations.
And check this out, here's the inventory. One screwdriver with a note
that says, in case you get a decent hull plating; a Magnetronic
Slingshot, I've never seen one of those, bad joke if you ask me, but it
does accelerate anything alot. Made a nice little hole in one of those
steelcrates earlier today. Anyways, let's go on. A massive stainless
steelcomb with a tag that says "For Regina Monkfish". Beats me why they
put it into the box. And last but not least, some Silvertape "for the
Engineering Department" as it says. Really cute, guys, really cute. I
really don't understand why the Caly is such a laughing stock, after all,
we've beat the hell out of them bugs a few months ago. With a ship that
hardly even floats, less then all fires any weapons. That takes guts and
skills, doesn't it? They should be kissing our rears just for what we've
done. What do we get instead? A supersized comb. Just perfect.
Well, at least I get to play with the slingshot, and it's not that bad an
acquisition as I first thought. That's something after all.
On another subject, the guys have an NCO night off next week, I might try
and get some of the Seniors together for a Poker night or something. I
dunno who's in charge of the Bar right now, but it get pretty deserted
during the Graveyard shift. I'll talk to the guys, see if we can get that
arranged.
Anyways, I gotta finish setting up the new schedule tomorrow, and get
some of the phasers down to the Basement, see if they can fix em or
something. Maybe get some new power cells and stuff.
Oh yeah, there's a new bird in medical. Haven't met her, so that's
definitely a must. You never know.
Anything else?... Nah, I think I'm done. Computer, end log, encrypt,
save."
Harlan leaned back and refilled his glass, playing with the settings of
the magnetic field that powered the accelerator of the slingshot. He
definitely would find a use for that.
"The Beginning of Sorrows"
=/\= Starbase BoB =/\=
Complete and utter boredom.
It had been four days since his return to Starbase BoB. Four days of
bliss with Caz, but work was a very different matter. Of course, the
planet below didn't help. One million citizens and not allowed to so much
as wave a medical tricorder in their airspace.
The medical staff had done a *superb* job keeping up with things, and now
just about the whle crew and their dogs - and rabbits, and sheep, and
llamas, and cats, and tamars - had been innoculated. Plus, everyone was
keeping *incredibly* healthy so they didn't have to spend time in the
Infirmary and could go play on the planet below.
Feeling *more* than a little guilty about his long absence, he had
volunteered to take on an many shifts as Mulder would allow him to, in
order to give the rest of the staff a bit of a break. Which brought him
to boredom.
Scanning through another page of the journal, Ron stifled a huge yawn,
turning it instead into a face-contorting grimace. He was *certain* that
the Vulcan doctor must've been the author of the article - there was
absolutely no *way* anyone else could make it that incredibly *boring*
By sheer force of will, he finished the article on treating inhabitants
of silicon words, and continued on to the one he'd been looking forward
to - Ahn'Hekk's dissertation on Transporter-Based Surgery. With all the
trouble that BoB got into, he was certain he could use this kind of
technology on a regular basis. Maybe they could even volunteer to be a
test bed.
The intercom chimed, the communication tech's voice sang out. "Dr.
Jerillion?"
"Yeah. What's up?"
"I have an official Starfleet communiqué for you - just received in the
current download of traffic. It's marked Urgent, sir."
Ron frowned. "'Kay. I'm sure it's just the 'Fleet Medical Services
hounding me to turn in my Education Credits. You can put it in my
slushbox."
"Er. That might not be a good idea, Doctor."
"Oh, really? Why's that?"
"Well, for one thing, its originating header isn't from Starfleet - it's
from Argellius. Isn't that your *home* planet, sir?"
The color drained from the doctor's face as he realized the depth of the
announcement. *They've *found* me!* His mind ran in circles chittering in
fear, urging him to run and hide.
"Sir?" The tech's voice broke through his stunned fear. "What do you want
me to do with the message?"
"Uh." Trying to control the tremble in his voice, Ron swallowed and shook
himself slightly. *Snap *out* of it! You don't even know what this *is*!*
"Send it to my console - I'll look at it from here."
"Will do." The channel snapped closed, and his terminal beeped an
incoming message to him. Despite how much he hated it, he couldn't keep
his hand from trembling as he opened up the message. The screen flared
into the UFP logo, then drifted into the stylized crest of his House House Jerillion, the Serpent of Wisdom coiled about the Scroll of Truth.
The sigil faded into an older man's face - one he hadn't seen in years.
"Greetings, Merchant Prince of the House Jerillion. This message, should
it find you, conveys the respect and esteem of the House Lord, your
grandfather Ilisisone Jerillion."
As the recording continued, Ron sat back in his chair, watching the face
of one of his oldest and dearest friends, House Warder Elises. The man
had aged in the decade Ron had been gone from his home. But despite his
age, Elises still brought a smile to his face and mostly pleasant
memories to his heart.
The House Warder had been the nearest thing to a father Ron had; a man
who worked with him, disciplined him and schooled him to be a proper
sentient being, all the while surrounding him with warmth, pride and love
as only an older male can. Despite the separation laws of the House
Majors, Ron happily called the man Father in absentia of the male who had
impregnated his mother then left.
Something in Elises' face caught Ron awry - a dreadful stiffness
surrounding wounded eyes. Rewinding the tape to it's beginning, he leaned
forward again, listening carefully.
"Greetings, Merchant Prince of the House Jerillion. This message, should
it find you, conveys the respect and esteem of the House Lord, your
grandfather Ilisisone Jerillion." Elises paused here, shifting position
uncomfortably under the weight of his message he bore.
"Young Master, Lord Jerillion begs of you to return to your House, both
in his position as House Lord, and his heart as your grandsire. A
terrible blow has befallen our House in the last few months - our House
Lord's daughter and your Lady Mother, Rak'Hael Jerillion, has died."
The words poured over him in an unexpected avalanche of pain. His eyes
widened, and he gasped for a sound, any sound, to come out, to expel the
grief that was already building in his heart. A gasp finally burst forth
from his constricted throat, followed by a grunt that gave way to a lowthroated moan of misery, as Ron fell forward, head pillowed on his arms.
His body shook with the intensity of his mourning, as the bodiless head
continued to babble above him, oblivious to his emotions.
"Break-In"
=/\= Starbase BoB =/\=
The figure sat hunched over the table in the corner, face turned out
towards the viewport. Stars streaked by, flashes of light twisted by the
ethereal effect of warp drive. Chin resting on hand, elbow propped on
table, Ron switched his view from the window to peering at the bottle in
his hand. The once-full container contained barely a remaining fourth
portion of amber-gold liquid.
He closed one eye, and then the other, trying to determine which of the
many bottles in his vision was the real one. Finally, he gave up with a
shrug, and poured another generous serving into the fluted glass that
once held a small decorative plant. Said plant floated in a small pan of
water, looking rather abandoned.
"G'way." he growled in response to the entry request chime. "Computer,
lock door, refuse entry."
Leaning heavily against the doorframe, Caz felt a small stab of anxiety,
"Dammit, Ron, you've been locked away for eighteen *hours* now. We
thought you were just booking some sleep time - Ethiks know you need it,
but this is a bit much. What's wrong? And don't say 'nothing' because I
know damn well something's up."
Swiveling the chair to face the door, he frowned. "Look - don' take 'is
th' wrong way or anythin', but I'd really, *really* like t'be alone ri'
now."
"When people say that, they mean they really could use some company
because something so shitty has happened they don't know what the hell to
do," came back the brisk reply. "Ron...please...this is *me*, not some
nosey crewman. Are you going to let me in, or do I have to break the damn
door down?"
Rather than reply, he pivoted back to his glass and his portal.
Staring at the silent door, Caz gave a small hiss of vexation, and
concern. For hours now the feeling inside her that something was *wrong*
had been steadily growing, and she simply hadn't been able to explain it
away. There was nothing happening right now to give any cause for
concern. The station was safe, the trips to the planet surface all
passing without incident... but something, some sixth sense, had niggled
away inside her.
Eventually, she had made her way to the Infirmary, hoping Ron would talk
her out of the nonsensical worry. Upon hearing that he had disappeared
over eighteen hours ago and was believed to be in his quarters, the
feelings had crystallized; it was *Ron* who was in trouble of some sort.
Hoping fervently that she had just been feeling reverberations along the
Silver Thread, and permitting herself a mild belief in the Aarian
traditional myth of a bonded pair's wavelength capabilities (rather than
the horrible, quite disgusting notion that she might be empathic in any
way), she had sprinted the length of the ship to his quarters.
And now was locked out. "But not for long," the station CO used her
override codes, deftly flicked a few controls and neatly overrode the
security locks. "So, what the hell has been going on..." She trailed off
as she took in the scene in front of her.
In most ways, the quarters were as
stormy or emotional, times she had
door was a loveseat-type couch and
coffee table. A work desk occupied
she remembered them on the few, albeit
ventured into them. To the left of the
a small easy chair surrounding a tiny
the far wall, all as before.
But - the room was looking distinctly disheveled. Not trashed, however,
except for a trail of dirt leading into the small bedroom, which she
promptly followed, next coming upon Ron's uniform thrown across a small
coffee table.
"Well, here I am," she announced to the former occupier of said uniform,
who was sitting in the corner opposite the couch, at a 2-person breakfast
table, drinking Tequila out of a small plant vase. "Hmm," she made a
disparaging sound, as she looked with disapproval at the impromptu
drinking vessel. "That's real class. Not."
Reflexes slowed to the point of not even responding, Ron simply hung his
head, staring into the glass. "No rees. no rep..., shit." He wiped his
mouth with the back of his hand. "Y'just don' care, d'you?"
"What don't I care about?" the words came out sharply as she realized his
inebriated state, "About you being drunk? *What*?"
"'Bout bein' lef' alone. Y'jus barge in as if y'own the place, don'ya?"
"I didn't barge in," she said pedantically, partly to mask her gnawing
anxiety, "I *broke* in, quietly and efficiently, as is my right to do
so."
"Ya. So?"
"So..." she all but threw up her hands in despair, "So...I want to know
what the problem is. I'm your..." she broke off, suddenly uncertain of
how to define their relationship, and the uncertainty only added to her
sharpness, "I'm supposed to be your *friend* Ron," she countered, "And
I'm here to help you...except I *can't* help you if I don't know what's
wrong. And what's more, I'm staying here until I find out." She perched
defiantly on the small couch.
He pushed himself up onto his feet, wobbling like a small tree in a
strong wind. "Fine. Look." He paused, and then waved his hand in
frustration. "Ah! Here - its ear's far yaw t' jus *watch*." Ron staggered
to the desk in the room, and poked a finger into the LCARS terminal. It
began to play soft orchestral music, and dimmed the lights even further.
"No! Y'stupid Bedge! Th' message!" He pounded the screen, which squawked
at the abuse and responded by elevating the music level to a deafening
level.
"Whoa..." Caz leapt across the room to save the machine from certain
death, "Easy up, Ron...just - just *leave* it, I'll sort it out," she
almost pushed him away, and manipulated the control levels, whilst
demanding in her most official voice the correct message.
The computer conceded defeat on this occasion, and Caz watched with
increasing dismay as the aged retainer relayed his tragic message. After
the face had faded and the screen blanked out, the room was silent for a
few moments. Desperately trying to digest the information, she could only
wonder how she would feel if it had been either of her own beloved
parents.
But worse...this was Ron's mother. The mother that he adored, and had
left so many years ago, slipping out of the family home in the night, to
gain his freedom and seek a new life amongst the stars. But never, ever
forgetting his adored mother, and one day, doubtless, hoping for some
sort of reconciliation.
And now that day could never come.
=/\= Main Operations - Starbase BoB =/\=
Jack was an unhappy lad.
There were two things that Jack hated, truly hated, in life - mysteries
and stupidity. The fact that an entire planet had appeared outside his
bedroom window was something that would have normally left him in a
child-like awe. But now that he was back in Starfleet, he became part of
the mechanism involved in solving the mystery of why the planet had
appeared. He couldn't enjoy the event anymore...now he was required to
figure it out.
And this particular mystery was so far unsolved. The planet ceased being
a planet, and was now a problem, a mystery to be solved. Jack hated
mysteries. It gave him a bellyache and the runs.
The other thing Jack hated was stupidity, and right now he was surrounded
by it. La-de-la, lets all go traipsing down to this world that popped up
out of nowhere and have us a nice lounge on the beach...nothing will get
us here, no sir...just ignore the man behind the curtain. Since when did
Jack have to be the sensible one?
The Operations console showed all green on the docking clamps and
shuttlebays. As per the Captain's orders, the vessels docked with the
station had been released - which at least ceased the incessant calls
from ship owners whining about wanting to leave - and space around the
station had been reopened for vessels with docking permission to the
Station. The Fleet patrol ships were still performing picket duty, making
sure that anyone approaching the area was head for BoB and not the
planet. The station continued to broadcast the warning message about
beaming down, which seemed to be quite effective since there had been no
reports of transporter accidents. And amid all that, Jack sat at his
console with his arms crossed and his mood dark.
"Dumbasses" he muttered to himself.
Crewman Claire Cartwright glanced over from her portion of the large
Operations console and smirked at Jack. "So, when were you planning on
flying down?" she asked. Claire had been listening to Jack mutter about
this ever since the R&R had been approved.
"Never...I can't believe anyone is actually going down there. Does no one
on this station have any common sense?"
"I think we're all a little giddy with the idea of getting off the
station and getting a little fresh air..."
Jack turned to face Claire. "The planet wasn't there a few days ago!
Doesn't anyone wonder that, if it can just up and appear out of the blue,
that it can also up and disappear out of the blue as well? What if you're
on the surface when it does that, hmmm?"
Claire took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Well, if it did that,
then we would at least be safe on the planet..."
"If it took you with it, sure!" Jack threw up his hands as he spoke. "But
what if it didn't? What if it's some sort of dimensional vibration
thingie where it only takes back those that it brought with them, eh?
You'd look pretty silly floating in open space when the planet
disappears, with a really shocked expression on your face."
Jack paused to pantomime a look of utter shock and bobbed around on his
toes in slow motion, as if he was floating in space. He did that for
about 30 seconds, with pretty much everyone on Main Operations staring at
him.
Claire had had enough of the theater. "Sir, are you ordering your
operations personnel not to go to the surface?"
That stopped Jack. He paused, sighed, and dropped back down in his chair.
"No...I'd rather not be knifed in my sleep by my own staff, thanks...Go
on, head on down."
Claire smiled and nodded. She began to stand, but Jack stopped her. "But,
I do want you working on that transporter problem. I want a way to beat
that scattering field."
"I thought engineering would be working on that." Claire said.
"Maybe, but you were the one that suggested the jacketing beam thing, so
I want you helping them while you're on duty. I told you initiative would
get you in trouble. You came up with the bright idea, you get to see it
through."
Claire rolled her eyes a little, but nodded. "Aye. I'll get started on it
when I get back."
Jack nodded, but he wasn't really paying attention anymore. He had turned
to face his console's display screen, where an image of the planet slowly
rotated. He had gotten to a point where he hated the sight of the bloody
thing...one big floating mystery, with really nice beaches.
=/\= Paxan's Office - Starbase BoB =/\=
Paxan Brey heard the announcement from Mulder come over the intercom and
a surge of excitement burst inside her. Going down to Faylinn again was
very appealing to the young woman. A little R&R on a beautiful planet was
exactly what she and Felix needed to get back on track.
Tapping the comm panel, Paxan signaled the shuttle bay and asked one of
the shuttlebay technicians find her boyfriend for her. The young man
sounded nervous as he stumbled through his explanation of how he wasn't
sure where Lieutenant de 'Ilse was at the moment. He sounded fearful and
nervous, she noted to herself - an emotion Paxan was quite familiar with
lately.
Ending the conversation, Paxan disabled the comm-channel and sighed
heavily. The prospect of going down to Faylinn didn't seem so exciting
when the reality of her situation with Felix became more evident. His
behavior wasn't changing for the better and she still had no idea why.
The door-chime to her office sounded from out of the blue causing her to
swivel in her chair towards door, "Come in," she said, hoping that maybe
it was Felix coming to take her down to the surface and begin working out
their problems. The doors parted and Drake Bastian was leaning against
the frame.
"Good afternoon, Lieutenant," he said with his award-winning grin.
Paxan blinked in surprise but smiled, "Drake, what are you doing here?"
she asked, "I haven't seen you in a while."
The young man strolled towards her desk and plopped into a chair across
from her, "Working like a dog," he answered, "I'm assembling a new sniper
team for the marines. It's been tough whipping them into shape."
She chuckled, "No doubt, you're working them hard. Can I get you some
coffee or something?" Paxan asked.
"Nah, I'm good, thanks," said Bastian as he rubbed the crown of his head,
"So, I take it you heard the good news."
"About the planet?" she said, "Yeah, looks like the crew is getting a bit
of shore leave."
"Us too," said Drake with a smirk, "I was just
official bodyguard while you're on the surface
stuff you do." The young man waggled his brows
given express permission to enjoy myself...so,
get packed."
ordered to act as your
doing all that sciencey
playfully, "I was also
I think it's time for you
Paxan looked surprised at Drake's pronouncement. She had known she would
be going down and that a bodyguard might be required but she wasn't
expecting it to be Drake Bastian - renowned Risian flirt. She had enjoyed
her outings with the young man on occasion but with her troubles with
Felix firmly in her mind, Paxan felt a bit guilty at sharing her shore
leave with another man. "I'm not sure this is a good idea," she muttered.
"Not a good idea?!" he blurted with a boisterous laugh, "Why not?"
"Because Drake, I'm in a relationship with Felix de 'Ilsle and I don't
think he would appreciate me spending this much alone time with another
man," she explained with a sigh.
He looked confused, "Well then what about if he comes along with us. You
never know...Felix and I could end up being great friends."
Paxan nearly snorted, "I doubt that. Felix can barely be my friend
lately...let alone yours." It was a statement that Brey hadn't meant to
say but couldn't retract it by the time she realized what she'd just
said.
Drake let his head drop but his eyes stayed on the young woman, "Listen,
I don't pretend to know what you just meant by that but the reality
is...you have work to do down on Faylinn and I'm responsible for
protecting you. We are also allowed to have fun while doing our jobs
so...why don't we just get packed, go on down there and just enjoy the
small time we have on shore leave."
"I don't know...what about Felix," Paxan sighed.
He smiled, "We'll leave a message for him, that way he'll know exactly
where you are and what's going on. When he gets a moment, I have no doubt
he'll come down to meet you. I mean, he'd have to be crazy to pass up a
chance being with you on a beautiful world."
The woman smiled slightly and shook her head at the charming Marine.
Although his reputation as a Risian preceded him wherever he went, Paxan
had no doubt of his sincerity and good intentions. "Alright,
alright...I'll go and get packed I'll meet you at the shuttlebay in half
an hour."
Bastian grinned, "Terrific," he said before heading for the exit. As the
doors parted open with a swoosh, Drake Bastian stopped and looked back at
Paxan with a mischievous smirk, "Oh and Lieutenant...one more thing..."
"Yes?" she asked.
"Don't forget to pack a bikini," grinned the young man before he turned
back and left the office.
"Shared Sorrow, Separate Secrets"
=/\= Starbase BoB =/\=
Fingers pressed to her mouth, she swore with depth and feeling in her
native Aarian tongue. This was all so insane, so wrong. It shouldn't
happen to *Ron*, not after everything he'd been through, everything he'd
suffered the last few years...
Heart breaking with sympathy, she looked sadly at him, and finding no
words that were not either banal or trite, just shook her head in sorrow
and resignation.
Glass gripped firmly in one hand, bottle in the other, Ron lurched to the
couch and flopped onto it, artfully managing to slop nearly all of his
drink onto his shirt. Growling Argellian curses under his breath, he
finished the dregs of the glass, and then smacked it on the coffee table.
Letting out a pent-up breath, Caz moved slowly over to him, "I see..."
she breathed, "Ron, I - " she broke off, "I'm just so damn sorry. That's
- that really sucks. I'm - glad you let me see it though. I'll - try
to..." she gave herself a mental shake. She knew how to handle family
deaths - she'd had to inform enough people of the death of a much loved
family member, usually in tragic circumstances, when she was a cop. But
this was different...this was *personal*.
"I understand why you locked yourself away," she added sombrely, "I don't
blame you...but drinking isn't going to help, not really...I never
imagined it was something as awful as *this*..." the words floated out in
a jumble.
He peered at her moodily, and frowned. "Well, Now y'know, 'Kay? Duzzat
give me leave t' be a bastard?"
"I reckon it gives you leave to be anything you want to be," she said
slowly, "But," her voice took on more definition, "It *doesn't* give you
leave to shut me out of your problems. You'd create *hell* if I did that
to *you*, and you damn well know it," her voice had risen slightly, "So
cut out the macho-man act. You don't have to play He-Man in front of
*me*."
A snort was the only reply. He gazed at the bottle, and then shrugged.
"Sorry. Jus' not rilly m'self." Another snort of irony, and he looked up
at the Aarian. "I've got t' go back. Y'heard Elises - an' I jus'
*couldn'* dishonor Momma's memories like that by no showin."
"I see..." she looked thoughtful, "Y'know...you really shouldn't go
alone. That sort of thing can be very...uhm...difficult," she struggled
to find the right balance between practical and compassionate, whilst
inwardly steeling herself against possible rejection. "It's...I
mean...can you take someone along for...moral support?"
He shrugged. "If I'm gonna go, I hav'ta bring somin else w'me. Fer the
ceremonies, n'whatnot."
"To make sure you use the correct cutlery and don't trip over your robes
and all that sort of stuff? Yeah, I think I can manage that," she replied
lightly. "If you want me to, that is," she tried to make the offer sound
casual.
His gaze slid sideways to her face, then he turned his head to look at
her blearily. "*Would* you? I'd b' *very* pleased, Caz."
"Besides which, you're going to need a damn hot pilot to get you there,
and they don't come hotter than me. I'm in," she announced firmly.
In her mind, she heaved a sigh of relief that he had been amenable to her
offer. The thought of him going off on such a sorrowful mission, alone
and unhappy, wrenched at her heartstrings, and she had been prepared to
stow away if necessary, if he had insisted on going alone. "We're in this
together," she added gently, "I'll be with you all the way."
For the first time in that entire day, Ron could feel a smile creep up
onto his face. "Thank you." He enunciated as carefully as possible. He
held the smile as long as possible before his face crumpled into tears.
"Oh, Creator, Caz. M'Momma's *dead*!" He began to cry again, great
wracking sobs that pounded his body, wringing out groans of grief at the
last of his breath. He felt Mulder's arms wrap around his shoulders, and
she guided him into her lap.
Words were superfluous now, and she let the tears flow unchecked, simply
holding him, smoothing his hair, and making small indistinguishing sounds
of comfort. Eventually the combination of alcohol and exhaustion worked
its inevitable conclusion. She could tell from the change in his
breathing that he had fallen into a deep but uneasy sleep. For a long
while, she simply sat there, staring out of the viewport, cursing the
Fates that had brought this man she loved to such misery.
The more practical side of her was yelling: In the middle of the present
situation?! What the Hell do you think you're DOING?!
And yet - what was to worry about? For nearly a week now the planet had
sat their, quiet and inviting. No accidents had happened, no incidents
had been reported, and everyone seemed in excellent spirits.
As for the journey to Argellius, they could be there and back in a week
at the most. Of course, she'd have to find her own transport now every
shuttle on the station was in constant use, but then again, her very
resourceful father was back in scratchy comm range now, and so a quick
call there might bring some ideas.
As to the rest, there was one person she would have to swallow her pride
and ask for help, but it was a small price to pay, she supposed.
That, too, was pressing on her mind, and in her updates and recounting of
tales to Ron there had, she admitted to herself, been certain incidents
and instances she'd glossed over - partly because she simply wasn't sure
how she felt herself, and hadn't thought it appropriate - or necessary to mention them.
Especially not appropriate. And now, even more so.
Maybe it was a latent guilt that had spurred her to wangle an escort
invitation to the funeral. She stroked Ron's head, glad he was sleeping
at last. No, she told herself, this is what she wanted to do for him.
It's what people who loved each other did. He'd do the same for her. This
was the right thing - the only thing - to do.
At length, her mind drifted off into a semi-sleep state itself, and the
whole sorry business flicked around at random, throwing up thoughts and
plans, and phrases from the comm message. It was funny how some things
only registered much later on, she mused with an ironic smile.
"Merchant Prince, huh?" murmured Lady Ca'assirri Mulder, only daughter
and heir of Sir Reuben Mulder, 21st Baron Mansfield, of Mansfield Park,
Earth. "And here was me thinking I'd hitched my wagon to a
commoner...There's aristos crawling out of the woodwork at every turn on
this station, isn't there?"
=/\= Promenade - Starbase BoB =/\=
Occupying his usual table at the cafe, Cade was people watching and
having his evening tea. Even more than usual, this was becoming a good
time for him to reflect and relax. Tonight, he was thinking about the
Felim. Despite his initial reservations, and against his very nature,
Cade was beginning to like Kyran. The guy seemed to genuinely enjoy what
he did and cared about the people that served under him.
Stephen finished his tour of the station and was going out for a walk as
he began thinking on how to perform this investigation. Going over the
dinner with Captain Mulder in his mind, he realized that she was trying
to tell him something in relation to what happened. He decided to file it
away in his mind and see what else he can come up with.
Passing a cafe his attention caught onto one of the persons in question
and decided to stop and have an informal meeting with the Marine Captain.
He approached him as Cade's attention was else where. Clearing his
throat, he alerted the marine to his presence. "Captain Vaugh, I
presume."
Cade glanced up and saw who it was. He immediately shot to his feet in a
position of attention. "Good evening, Captain."
"Please, no need to get up on my account, please, take your seat,"
Stephen said as he wavied him to sit, "Mind if I join you?"
"Not at all, please do, sir." Cade gestured toward the other seat at the
table. Once McCaffery was seated, the marine sat down and righted the
spare tea cup. "Tea, sir?"
"Hmm, yes, please," Stephen said with a slight smile, " Vulcan spice
tea."
As he waited for his beverage of choice, Stephen took a moment to study
the marine, looking for something that would tell him about the man he
was about to investigate. Thanking the waiter as he pour hot tea in his
cup he quietly took a sip, sampling the taste. Nodding that it was
acceptable he turned his attention to Cade. "Mr. Vaughn, I presume that
you know why I am here?"
"Indeed I do, Captain." Cade spooned a miniscule amount of demera sugar
into the earl grey he was drinking. "In fact, I was beginning to wonder
if you were actually going to talk to me at all before the formal hearing
begins."
Stephen nodded, "Before I begin my formal proceedings, I just want to
know that I'm not here to defend the "honor" of murderers, nor am I here
to find trouble and root it out. I know that if you look for trouble
you'll always find it, what I "am" here for is to find the truth,
wherever it may take me." He paused to take another sip of this tea,
savoring the taste. "Do you value truth?"
"Absolutely, Captain," Cade replied with unwavering conviction in his
voice, recalling his speech to Mulder about truth and honesty when she
first told him of the charges. "There are, of course, times when a lie
does happen to be the best course, but I try to avoid that unless I'm
questioning a suspect. And in that situation, all bets are off," he added
with an ominous ring to his voice.
"I want to ask you a question, How you begin if you were I?" Stephen knew
he asked a pointed question, but he had a purpose for doing so.
"I would want to look in the eyes of the people I was investigating to
find out if they're the type that would lie about their own mother to
save their asses or the type that knows that honesty, no matter the
consequence, is the right course." Cade took a sip of his tea.
Stephen nodded as he listened. He smiled a bit at his words, for he had
to agree with them. He was after the truth and he did want to know if he
was dealing with a pack of liars. He quietly sipped his tea, considering
his next question. "Is there anything else?"
"Yes, I would also interview the accused at unplanned times to keep them
slightly off balance." Cade smiled as if to imply that was what the
current situation was. "It's harder to tell a lie in an unexpected
situation, unless you're practised at it."
Stephen smiled, "Well, I can assure you Captain that the art of deception
is not part of my repitoir. What you see is what you get." He finished
his cup of tea and leaned back in his chair, making himself confortable,
wondering what he should do with this conversation with the accused. "I
have been on many investigations where I have found the "accused"
innocent. You will help you case if you are upfront with me with
everything even that which you think would give a negative impression of
you. The whole story in context is the best judge of whether it is true
or not. Do you agree?"
"Absolutely, Captain." Cade twirled the spoon in the teacup for a moment.
"In the spirit of truthfulness, I'll give you advance warning that
deception *is* in my repertoire, but you have nothing but my word that
I'll be honest with you."
"Now, since we are on an informal basis," Stephen replied, "Tell me about
your Commanding Officer."
"Captain Mulder?" Cade shrugged. "She's a good officer, for a 'Fleetie,"
he said with a sly grin. "No. Despite our disagreements, I've found her
to be a fair commander with an active interest in the well-being of her
crew. She knows how to fight." He snorted once and took a sip of tea.
"St. David knows she can do that, and she doesn't freeze up in an
emergency."
Stephen nodded and he listened.
"She's one of the few that I've met in my lifetime that have that rare
quality that good leaders have in abundance." Cade set the cup down and
look across the table at McCaffery. "A deep conviction that she truly, to
the core of her being, believes that what she does makes a difference for
the better. It's what gets her out of bed in the morning and keeps her in
her office until all hours of the night."
"I see," Stephen said as he nodded once again. "Interesting woman, she
is,and I've only known her for a few days." He let that hang in the air
for a moment as he wavered to continue on or not. "Well, Captain, I sure
we will talk more, and probably under less...desirable situation, but
nonetheless, I'm sure it was equally be as painful, er...painless." He
smiled at his faux paux.
"Of that, Captain, I am sure." Cade stood as the senior officer did and
watched him walk away with a perfect poker face.
=/\= Military Barracks for the Capitol District - Faylinn =/\=
"So, Major. What do you think?" Kyran's tone was questioning and curious,
as if he honestly cared about what an outsider's opinion was of his
military forces.
Cade studied the lines of drawn up infantry, pilots, and specialists; all
in what appeared to be the Felim dress uniform of a burnished breastplate over a loose, belted tunic. The infantry wore almost medieval
helmets complete with nose and cheek guards with the officers being
distinguished by a tall, reed crest that rose from the very top of the
helmet. "They are impressive in parade formation, Deputy Regent, which is
good for aweing the civilians and keeping order, but..."
"...Can they fight?" Kyran finished the question with a smile. "I'd like
to think so, Major, but with only ourselves to practice against over the
last few centuries, I can not honestly say what would happen if we were
invaded." The smile broadened. "But, I hope that is question that we will
be able to answer together."
"I'm looking forward to this, Deputy Regent. It isn't often that we get
the run of a planet to train with friendly forces." Cade noticed Kyran's
smile got perceptibly bigger at that description of the Felim. He turned
his attention back to the stone-still ranks and popped his pipe back in
his mouth.
Together, the pair walked across the front of the formation so that Cade
could get a good look at the officers' uniforms and weaponry. Most of the
sidearms were slug-thowers, conventional firearms, but he noticed that
the pilots seemed to be armed with an early energy weapon that was
reminiscent of the first 'phase pistols.' Shoulder weapons ran the range
of conventional firearms to magnetic accelerators to pulsed plasma
rifles. Most of it was equipment that a 22nd Century Earth soldier could
have operated comfortably. He brought his thoughts back to the present as
he realized that Kyran was talking.
"...just one of ten nearly identical garrisons spread across the
equatorial region of our world. A couple of the bases are located in
mountainous regions and one in a desert, so those three have a higher
concentration of soldiers specialized to deal with those environments."
Kyran looked very pleased with himself as he related his information.
"Yes, 10,000 of my people's finest spread into strategic locations..." He
stopped when he heard Cade chuckle. "Is something funny, Major," he asked
with a slight look of concern.
Cade shook his head trying to wave off any offense and took the pipe from
his mouth. "No, not funny at all. Your description made me remember a
piece of my planet's history. You have your own band of Immortals here."
Kyran's eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "Please explain, Major."
The marine nodded his head and started the history lesson as they
continued walking. "Centuries, well actually millenia, ago, the people of
my planet thought that the world was flat, had no concept of
circumnavigation, and relied on the spear, the sword, and the arrow for
military might."
"Go on," Kyran said softly, sounding genuinely interested again.
"In this time, there was emperor named Darius of a nation called Persia.
The Persian Empire controlled most of what they considered to be the
world. It was actually only a very small part, but that is a different
discussion. Subjugated to the Persians were dozens of other nations that
supplied their best warriors to fuel the Persian war machine as it ground
forward relentlessly, conquering new lands."
Cade paused and struck a match to light his pipe. "The pride of Emperor
Darius was his Immortals. A band of 10,000 soldiers made up almost
exclusively of Persians, many of the officers being kith and kin to the
Emperor himself. They were called the Immortals because if the unit
suffered any battle losses, they were immediately refilled to maintain
the 10,000 man strength."
"And these soldiers were the greatest in the world, yes?" Kyran's eyes
positively glittered at the compliment he thought he was being paid.
"Mostly," Cade said as he puffed a smoke ring from the pipe. "There was a
much smaller nation called Lakedaemon that stood in Darius' way of global
domination. Chief among the people of Lakedaemon was the warrior-based
society of the city of Sparta. Spartan men were hailed by their people,
the Greeks, as the greatest warriors that walked the land, despite there
being only a few thousand of them."
"And they thought to stand against this Emperor Darius," Kyran asked.
"Exactly. They didn't want to be subjugated to any man besides their two
kings, which is yet another discussion for another time."
"And how large was the Persian army?"
"Not rightly sure. Some historians estimate that the army that invaded
the Greek homeland at a million soldiers."
"Madness."
Cade smiled. "The forces of Persia clashed against the Greeks at mountain
pass called Thermopylae." Knowing what the next question was, Cade
continued, "The Greeks were led by 300 Spartans supported by a thousand
allied heavy infantry."
Kyran smiled. "And Darius sent his Immortals to make an example of these
Spartans?"
"Yes, he did."
"And the Immortals lived up to their names and crushed the ones that
challenged them," Kyran said confidently.
As they reached the end of the formation and started toward the officers'
mess for lunch, Cade looked at the Deputy Regent and grinned ferally.
"Our historians say that Darius openly wept on his purple throne as the
Spartans and their Theban allies slaughtered the Immortals."
"Beach Blanket Backlash"
=/\= Restricted Hair Space - Starbase BoB =/\=
During the battle to free Thebos IV she had witnessed the Sargent in her
platoon take an explosive round to his belly, spilling his innards into
his hands. This had not bothered her then, or since.
When a sniper on Thermopilon had opened up three nearby skulls in rapid
succession in the mess tent, she had simply ducked and kept eating.
Overhead, the counterfire-cannon on top of the tent had silently whipped
around and lased the sniper into a crispy skeleton a few hundred meters
away. The stew had been rather good that day, she recalled.
And in the middle of a vicious case of food poisoning during the revolt
in the Thermillion Belt, she had participated with her entire squad,
depositing their tainted field rations on the field of battle in most
unpleasant ways. This too had passed over her like a gentle breeze.
However, in spite of those experiences, Bruisilla van der Totenschmerz,
veteran of numerous vicious and unspeakable wars, was not prepared for a
terror such as this. She stood at the front of her shop, in the small
waiting area, as it threatened to burst from the horrors within.
The clamoring mob around her screamed and cried for her attention. The
damage they suffered was an atrocity. Terrifying burns on their skin,
damaged hair, sand wedged in wildly inappropriate locations. And they
wouldn't stop whining about it!
"Schtop vit ze cryink!" the battle-scarred, cybernetic beautician
shouted, her artificial voicebox cranked to maximum levels. Spinetingling feedback screamed from the overhead muzak speakers, her peak
frequency destroying the circuits, silencing the gentle sounds of Muskrat
Love.
As one, the mob silenced itself, jaws agape.
"Who is havink ze most great distress!" Bruisilla shouted her inquiry as
an order.
The mob erupted.
The towering ogre of beautician in a floral pantsuit quietly tapped the
side of her head, toggling the optics in an artificial eye to infrared.
Scanning the crowd, she isolated a number of sunburns.
"You be zilent now!" The air cracked as her arm shot up violently to a
horizontal, palm-forward crowd-silencing salute. The already-distressed
microservos that lifted the titaniumlastic frame of the replacement arm
gave out. As the scent of burnt relays wafted past her deadened, carbonfiber-lined nostrils, she began triage.
Waving her now-immobile arm before her, threateningly, she directed the
action.
"If you suffer ze radiation, over heeer!" A crowd of sunburned beachgoers quickly pushed their way to one side of the small space. A great
deal of shouting and yelping was required, as their tender, well-cooked
hides accidentally bumped each other.
"Those vit ze distress to ze hair, heeeeer!" Bruisilla mechanically
rolled the last syllable as her arm waved another mob of beach victims to
the other side. The horror wrought upon their perms at the hands of sun
and sand and saltwater was fearsome, indeed.
"Iv you havink ze conzernz uber ze beeeekeeeeneee line, ze vaxing forms
heeere!" A very modest older woman shuffled quickly into place beneath
the threatening arm, trying to hide her face under her beach hat. She was
joined by a tall, handsome artist. Smiling, he winked at a nearby blonde
and nodded, drawing her gaze downwards for just a moment, before she
recovered, embarrassed.
"Zis iz all ve havink time for! Ze rest be gone!" Bruisilla's immobile
salute shamed the remaining, whimpering customers, whose only crime was a
desire for a manicure.
"Burnings! Go zat vay!" Bruisilla spun around sharply and pointed towards
the rear of the shop. "You vill suffer ze dermalplastal abrasion and
herbal wrap! It vill hurt! It vill cure!"
"Hair! You vill vait here for callink!" A sharp gesture quickly seated
the second mob.
"Und," Bruisilla paused as she glared at the remaining pair. Her larger,
unblinking red eye irised to maximum aperture at them. "Ze vaxings. Heh.
You must come vit me. You shall zuffer greatly for your appearance."
Spinning about sharply, Bruisilla marched the pair of victims towards
their private, not-entirely-screamproof booths to disrobe.
"Through pain, beauty!" thundered the stomping beautician, summoning her
small staff to duty stations.
"Bitter Irony"
=/\= Mulder's Office - Starbase BoB =/\=
It was ironic that the last person she wanted to deal with was the first
person she had to turn to.
She looked down to Faylinn below - it had been just over a week since the
mysterious planet appeared, and she was becoming used to the view now, as
if it had always been there.
She was still reluctant to leave at such a time, especially when the
mysteries seemed to be incresing rather than lessening as to the Felim,
but there was no help for it. Ron needed her, and that was that. Though
she did wonder if he would have asked her to accompany him had he got the
message whilst still on Earth. It was as if he was here five minutes, and
now off again.
She sighed and shook the depresing thoughts away. It had been decided,
everything was in motion, and now she had to sort out the last - and most
important - issue.
Mulder knew she couldn't put it off any longer, and set out to track down
her target. Then she stopped, and reconsidered. Since it was official
business, then official it should be. Tapping her commbadge she said
briskly, "Captain to the Major. Please report to my office at your
earliest convenience."
Still, at least her decision not to fire him straight away had been
useful, as it turned out. It gave him status for dealing with Deputy
Regent Kyran, which would have been eroded had she removed the XO status
straight away. And now he was going to have to work even harder...
Two minutes later, Cade was knocking on her office door, annoyed at being
pulled away from preparations for his visit to the Felim military base,
but he wasn't about to let it show. Not to her, at least.
"Thank you for coming so promptly, Major," she was all cool formality,
and neither sat down herself nor invited him to sit. "I hope this won't
take long."
"That would be good, Captain. I'm nearly ready to leave for the surface
with the first group of marines for a visit with Deputy Regent Kyran.
We're going to review their base and some of their equipment before
putting a plan in place for a training exercise." His tone was succinct,
matter-of-fact, and conveyed that he had better things to be doing with
his time.
"The reason I asked you here is to inform you that I shall be leaving the
station for a week, and as temporary XO, you will therefore become acting
CO. It's not as if you haven't done it before..." she added lightly.
"May the Major ask the Captain why she is leaving the station while in
the middle of a...mystery...I guess for lack of a better term."
Reluctant to discuss personal business, yet knowing there was no reason
why he should not know, she said quietly, "Doctor Jerillion's mother has
died suddenly, and he has to return to Argellius for the funeral. As his
closest friend, he has asked me to accompany him for support," she the
look in her eyes dared him to make any defamatory comment there.
"Commendable, Captain," was Cade's only response.
She narrowed her eyes slightly but kept any personal thoughts to herself.
Now was not the time to start picking. "You are clear on what you have to
do?" the haughty trace of defiance was overlaid by a genuine wish to be
clear on procedures.
"Yes, Captain. My understanding of your orders are to oversee the day to
day operations of this base. I do not intend to relinquish control of the
Nomads or miss the joint training that is to be scheduled."
"Nor would I expect you to," she replied promptly. "When Doctor Jerillion
was XO he was Chief Medical Officer first and foremost. That was his
position and his job. Anything else was by the by - except for giving
good advice and filling in when I was indisposed..." she bit her tongue
to stop herself from rattling on. "I expect no more and no less from you
- and you have proven your capability on the command side already," she
added as a begrudging compliment.
He smirked slightly and then quickly suppressed it. "And as temporary CO,
will I be able to appoint a temporary XO and 2XO to mind the shop while
I'm on the planet?"
"Mm? Well, yes, I suppose," she looked a bit harassed, as her mind was
already turning to what tasks she'd need to leave for him. "Yes, that
will be in order." She couldn't think who to select though and it wasn't
something she felt she could deal with right then either. "Do you have
anybody specific in mind?"
"Not yet, ma'am," he smoothly lied. "I will review the personnel files
and pick the best people for the jobs regardless of rank." He quickly
added, "Though, I assure you, I will pick only officers for the
positions."
"Well, fine, whoever you think most capable," she waved a hand, relieved
that his words seemed to rule out appointing an all-marine heirarchy.
"But remember that each officer is busy with various tasks at the moment,
and their taking on the position will *not* mean they can neglect those
tasks. Any temporary command position means *extra* to their current
workload, so ensure they understand that."
"Oh, they will, Captain." *No need to worry about that at all.*
"Make sure they're willing volunteers. Command - even temporary - means
writing reports until your fingers ache, being in ten different places at
once, and not just polishing an extra pip - which they won't have anyway.
And make sure they report regularly and set a good example," she knew she
was fussing now.
"If they don't, I'll toss them out an airlock," he half-joked. After his
questioning of Inspector Cayke, it was anybody's guess if he'd actually
do such a thing.
"Right, right," she said irritably. Why did
wrong way? Still, he would probably be glad
for a week. At least that way they'd have a
there's anything urgent...really urgent...I
he always rub her up the
she was going off the station
break from hosilities. "If
can always be reached and
would come back..." she offered, knowing she had to depart but hating to
have to leave at such a delicate stage in the mission.
"You won't get a call from me, Captain, unless the station is in danger
of burning up in Faylinn's atmosphere. And then it'll just be to get a
list of things you want packed from your quarters." The look on his face
was smugly confident and his words were the best that he come up with for
being amiable.
"Well, thank you," she said, again grudgingly. His words did have a ring
of confidence to them, but all the same..."Be sure to - "
"I'll file daily status reports regarding the on-going investigation with
Gamma Command, Captain. There won't be any issues, though, because I
won't permit them."
"This *is* Starbase BoB," she remarked mildly, "Perfect behaviour isn't
our thing."
"Then you should expect the brig to be full when you get back, ma'am. I
was amiable during the Class-86 rectal probe inspection that the IG's
office gave us because I could afford to be. This is for real and it's
high time that people realized just how different we marines are from
everyone else," he said with a slightly menacing grin.
"I have a sneaking suspicion that you're going to enjoy this *way* too
much," she started to grin, then remembered that she detested him for
being an asshole, so her face became icy again. "Well, then, I suppose
that covers everything."
"I suppose so, Captain." He was going to leave it at that, but changed
his mind. "How soon are you going to depart?"
"Right away," she said with a little smirk. "I have transport and Doctor
Jerillion is finishing packing. We'll be away within thirty minutes."
"No time like the present, yeah?"
"Yeah. And no time for farewells either. Anyway, we'll be back in a week,
if the Ethik of Fate is kind. Now, I supose I ought to make it
official..." she switched on her console.
"All crew, this is the Captain speaking. I have to leave the station for
a week on urgent personal business. As some of you are aware by now, I
have assigned Major Vaughan to be acting Executive Officer for this
mission, and so he will take over as acting Station Commander in my
absence, with my full authority. Don't trash the planet while I'm
away..." she added optimistically. "Mulder out."
"That's it then," she initiated the transfer of command codes. "The
station is yours, Major."
"Just until you get back, Captain. I have no desire to keep it." That was
the truth. Being a station commander conjured up all sorts of images for
him revolving around being tied down to a single point all the time, no
change of venue. As the MCO, he had some freedom of operation and was
basically able to set his own schedule.
"Don't worry, you won't," she assured him bluntly. "By the way," a last
detail ocurred, "Obviously, you will be except from the four-hour
restriction. If you're running training exercises it'd be a bit unhelpful
if the troops had to stop and return to the station every four hours. So
use your best judgement on how long the training sessions last. I think
that's it," she turned off her console. "I'll see you in a week."
"Safe journey, Captain." He turned and walked out of her office; looking
for his first victim.
She nodded as he left. It wasn't the journey she was worried about - it
was what awaited them at the other end that was the problem.
=/\= Sickbay - USS Caledonia =/\=
Zim sat hidden in the grubby sickbay office. The lights were off
(intentionally for once) and he wasn't making a sound. The trap was set.
He couldn't wait to see the victim's face. He'd been tempted to bring a
holo-cam so he could imortalize the moment. The best bit was, it was all
official! This was all being done for the well-being of the crew.
=/\= =/\= =/\=
Jinti flung herself down on her bed and stared up at the ceiling.
Normally she would have hung around the bridge even after shift had
finished when they were flying fast, but today she felt an odd sort of
ambivalence.
Besides, Richards was insisting on having a full shift at going full
speed, and Jadi was bravely attempting to reduce her fear of speed by copiloting, so there was nothing much for Jinti to do.
She *could* do some minor repairs, or she *could* go and tinker with the
Copper Knickers, but even that seemed too much trouble. So, she kicked
off her boots and stared at the ceiling, vaguely restless.
It was sort of like something was missing.
Or someone.
=/\= =/\= =/\=
Des walked in to Sickbay and noticed that it was very quiet. Glancing
towards the office, she saw that the lights were off. Maybe no one was
here..."Zim?" she called.
The top of his orange head popped through the office doorway, "Yes?" He
whispered.
"What're you doing in there?" she asked, walking up closer to the open
doorway of the dark office, peering inside.
"I'm hiding so Jinti can't see me. Don't want to spoil the suprise." Zim
kept his voice low but was still bobbing up and down on his toes with
nervous energy.
"I haven't called her yet," Des laughed, "I was going to get to that
after I checked in here."
"Oh..." said Zim, at a normal volume. He straightened up. "Well...it was
good practice anyway." Zim left the office and pointed to one of the
biobeds and the equipment tray next to it. "I've set out all the normal
stuff you'd need, hypo, tricorder and so on. And some more 'interesting'
tools." Zim picked up a rather spikey looking thing and waved it around a
little, "Not sure what this is for...looks fun though."
Des chuckled, "If you consider over-stimulating brain patterns fun..."
she commented, pretty much lying about what it did.
Zim put it back down carefully, "Right...so we're all set here. You
ready?"
"Of course," she replied. Then tapped her comm badge - she'd been
thinking about this. "Ensign Sovanae to Ensign Lamarr," she said in her
usual cheery voice.
"Huh? Whut? Who?" In her quarters, Jinti sat up and blinked. "Whozat?"
At the sound of Jint's voice Zim snuck back into the office again.
Des grinned, "Ensign, I know we've not met. I'm new to the Caledonia and
trying to meet all the crew I'm going to be working with. I was wondering
if you would mind coming down to Sickbay so that I can learn who was
doing all that...fun flying upstairs." A simple ploy, but it was a mostly
honest one. She did want to meet people, there was just the addition of
an ulterior motive...
=/\= =/\= =/\=
"Down ta sickbay? Funny kinda place to meet new folks," Jinti was talking
to herself as she ambled along the corridor.
Wandering into the appointed area, she stubbed out the cheroot she had
been puffing along the way. "Yo! hullo!" she called out. "Anyone home?"
"Ah!" Des stood up. She'd been checking over something on the biobed to
make sure the thing was working - seemed tempermental, but she supposed
that was to be expecting. Tossing her tool on the table, she dusted her
hands on her pants and then offered one. "Ensign Lamarr, it's a pleasure
to meet you." Des grinned, "Thanks for coming down this way. I'm a
Medical Officer and jus' getting used to Sickbay, so thought I'd manage
two at once."
"Oh, righty, medical occifer, huh?" Jinti gave the hand a perfunctory,
hearty shake. Then she looked at the other woman suspiciously, "You're a
doctor, right? Ya got proper qualifications, yeah?"
Des had to laugh, but she nodded. "Aye, I do. Always good to be cautious,
I suppose, although I usually don't get asked, but I assure you I've got
a shiny, sort of, degree from Starfleet Medical," she assured the other
woman.
"See, we had this Rommie back a year 'er so ago wuz the so-called doctor
round here. But he wuz nuts an' he weren't a doctor anyway. Coulnd't find
a dermal regenerator if'n it wuz stickin' outta his a - his earhole. So
anyways, I likes ta check furst." She tapped the side of her nose.
"Of course," Des nodded with a smile. "I promise I do know a dermal
regenetator from a cortical stimulator," she winked.
"Thass good, then. Yup, there's no knowin' the weirdos ya c'n find in
sickbay sometimes. Cain't be too careful. So ya wanna gimme a check-up,
yeah? Ain't no problem," she gave a shrug.
It was the 'weirdos' comment that Des had to resist another huge grin and
look towards the office at. She managed to hold back the urge, but it
certainly was difficult. "I will admit, I had thought to ask. You're a
bit over-due, but I promise that my first wish was to meet my fellow
crew. Since you brought it up...how about you hop up on the biobed? It's
mostly working now."
"Y'okays," Jinti obligingly swung her tall rangy frame up on the bed and
kicked her legs up. Ready when you are, gal."
Pulling out a tricorder, Des began the usual scans. "So, Ensign Lamarr,
first off, if you're cool with it, you can call me Des. Most people do.
Other than that, I just wanted to ask if that was you at the Helm
earlier..."
"Dezza, yeah, no probs..." Jinti's version of what she heard to what she
translated as was operating at standard efficiancy. "Ya c'n call me
whutever. The ganf call me Chief. The Skipper calls me Miss lamarr when
he ain't too annoyed with me, an' most folks jkist call me Jinti. I
answers t'most anythin', really." Having settled that, she gave a grin.
"Yeah, thass me flyin'. When the ship starts goin' glory-stuff, it'll be
me at the helm. I fly proper, see, not like them Starfleet-taught
pussies."
"I thought so," the Medical Officer grinned again, switching over to
another scan round. "That was...impressive. Have not seen
much...any...flying like that on my last posts!"
"Nah, ya won't have," Jinti looked totally in earnest. "See, I wuz
brought up around ships an' I had my own freighter bizniss once, so I
learned ta fly the mean highays an' byways. None o'that poncy wotsit mark
by point mark thingy stuff. Jeez, whut a palaver. I jist gits in there
an' heads where my nose tells me. Ain't often wrong, either..." there was
only the slightest stressing of the word 'often'.
At Jinti's explanation of her 'flying' Zim couldn't help but snort with
laughter. He tried to keep quiet but it wasn't working. He was starting
to crack up.
Jinti's head snapped round. "Ya got someone else in here? There's
sumthin'... I jist heard sumthin...an' it sounded scummy..."
Zim had a feeling he wasn't so well hidden now. A pity really but he
could still have some fun. He was pretty sure that Jinti wouldn't be best
pleased to see him. He composed himself and entered the main sickbay. Zim
had managed to get one of the blue doctors overcoats but it was a bit
long for him. If he didn't take care when he walked he ran the risk of
getting his feet caught up in and becoming less than graceful.
"Hello Jinti..." Zim grinned evilly. "I see you've met Dr.Sovanee. How
are you feeling today? Any medical procedure you need preforming?"
"YOU!" Jinti sat bolt upright and stared at the apparition. "YOU!" she
repeated, temporarily at a loss for words. "Why'n the hell ain't you in a
stasis tube, ya grubby little scuzzball!"
Zim's grin got wider, "I've moved on to bigger and better things. I just
got reassigned here after a little er...break."
"I knewed I smelt Ferengi!" she exclaimed, jumping down completely off
the biobed. "Whut are you doin' hangin' around sickbay, ya pervy little
grub worm, huh?" She turned to Des, "Hey now Dezza, I knows yer new an'
all, but ya don't wanna let this sort around here. It ain't hygenic!"
"Not hygenic?" Scowled Zim, "I think you should be careful about what you
say, I'm the new Clinical Manager here."
He puffed out his chest, "I get to okay important bits of paperwork, like
medical examinations. And if need be I can operate and...and amputate.
I've been trained in medical stuff."
Jinti advanced on him, "Ya really expects me ta believe that? You? In a
sickbay?? Jeez, I wouldn't sick a dynin' rat onto *you*? Who did ya
bribe, ya li'l toerag, huh?"
Not even the temptation to correct Zim's pronouncing of her name could
get Des to put herself in to this one. She didn't reply toJinti's comment
on hygeine, didn't have the chance, and instead covered her mouth
casually with one hand and tried not to laugh. This shouldn't be funny,
there could be blood shed in her sickbay, but she was naturally
jovial...and also sure she saw sparks flying off the pilot's head...she
hoped nothing caught fire...
"I didn't bribe a soul!" snarled Zim. It was true enough. Trying didn't
count as actually doing it. "I should have though. Might have got myself
onto a ship where you don't have to worry about whether its going to be
crashed by its oh-so competant pilots. What have you been doing when
you've not been crash landing the Caledonia? Stolen any of my hooch?!"
"YOUR hooch?" Jinti yelped, towering over him. "YOUR hooch my ass! I did
all the work an' that hooch wuz GIVEN to me, an' if'n you think yer gonna
git a penny from any sales since ya slunk off like the dog ya are, youz
got anuther think comin'."
"Slunk
hissed
looked
share!
off? I was ordered off! I didn't want to go. Its hardly my fault,"
Zim. "I want my share!" He thought about stamping his foot but
up at the towering form of Jinti and thought better, "Some of my
Even if the still is only small."
"Yeah, well there's double now cuz I liberated a whole job lot from the
Mirror Universe people, whilst you wuz slacking off playing around in a
statis tube, ya lazy workshy numnut!"
Zim would have been rather impressed if he wasn't so angry, "Double? Then
that means double the profit. You can obviously keep the profit from the
second still but from the original..."
"An' ya caint have any profits anyway cuz I spent it," Jinti informed him
triumphantly. "I bout myself a new lot o'clothes an' a Sayl'reth. called
Sybil. An' I gave her to Starbase BoB. Ya ya boo suck to YOU, dribble
features."
"But...I..." Zim sighed
done. But we had a deal
you know whats good for
forms needed for you to
somewhere wouldn't it?"
and then started again, "Fine, whats done is
and we're going to stick to that from now on if
you." He glared at Jinti, "It'd be a pity if the
be passed fit for duty got lost in my quarters
"I reckon youz a fraud, Ferengi," Jinti gave him a last scowl, "An' now
I'm gonna have the rest of my medical exam. An' if'n you so much as put a
grubby paw anywhere near me I'm gonna rip yer ears off an' use 'em as
frisbees."
Zim laughed sourly, "I wouldn't worry about me touching you. Luckily for
me I don't have to do some of the more unpleasant jobs."
He looked at Desdemona and gave her a weak smile, as if to apologies for
Jinti, "If you would please continue, I'll observe."
Zim stood back a few feet so he could continue to glare at Jinti without
getting in the way.
Jinti glared back at him and growled as she hopped back up on the bed.
"Righty then Dezza, lets git this thang done. An' if he so much as
dribbles one tiny dribble I'm gonna sue him fer medical malpractice." So
saying she lay back down, angling her head to keep a watchful eye on Zim.
Finally managing to wrangle her humor back under control, and resisting
the urge to call them children to their faces like an exasperated (but
amused) school teacher, Des walked back up to the biobed after shooing
Zim back a few steps. She turned to the other woman, "Don't worry, we're
almost done, Jinti," she said with a smile.
"Yeah, see *we'z* almost done," Jinti told Zim in a satisfied voice. "And
we don't need *you* gettin' in the way." She gave Dezza an odd look,
"Y'oughtta be careful with this sickbay. Weird things happen here. Like
Ferengi popping back up. It ain't right. he's probably an evil undead
ghoul 'er sumthin'..."
"Indeed," was all she managed to reply with out laughing. This was too
much - her Sickbay was full of kindergarteners and it was hysterical.
Their indignation not withstanding, of course. "So, how've you been
feeling? Any problems?" she continued, then added hastily, "Other than my
colleague in the back."
"In the back? I c'n think of plenty of *other* places he's a problem
besides the back..." Jinti muttered.
"I know you are but what I am?" Zim shot back.
A small laugh escaped. "Hush, both of you, I'm almost done!" she
exclaimed. "Now, seriously, how've you been feeling?"
Jinti was too honest to pretend that her world was fine and huky-dory,
but too private a person to try and articulate vague insubstantial
strange feelings. So she simply replied as frankly as she could. "I'z
fine. The brig wuz pants, but at least we didn't have to stay there long.
I guess I didn't sleep properly there. I'z fit as a fiddle normally,
there ain't nuthin' wrong. But otherwise, I guess I feels fillysoffyical.
Yeah," she experimented wih the word and liked it. "Fillysoffycal. I
guess it's cuz we're off to a new mission an' there's unknown stuff and
people prolly gonna try an' kill us," she added by way of explanation.
Des' brows rose slightly, "Oh?" she asked, still with a slightly amused
smile that she was trying to tame in to something just polite.
"Oh yeah, everyone tries to kill us sooner or later," Jinti said with
satisfaction. "Or eat us," she looked at Zim directly, wishing she could
have parcelled him up for 8472 sushi last year.
That certainly added to Desdemona's 'interesting' prediction for the
Caledonia. She didn't really want to become some aliens dinner, of
course, but with a colleague like Zim, she had the feeling that it would
be patients and crewmates who were more trouble.
"Can I go now?" Jinti sat up. "Coz if'n I stays here much longer, I'z
prolly gonna get a Ferengi allergy an' that ain't gonna be purty."
Zim just bared his snaggled teeth and hissed at Jinti. He was keeping a
record of everything Jinti said, and he was going to get her back for
every single comment somehow.
Losing any sort of professional demeanor, Des rolled her eyes at them
both. "Yes, Jinti, you're free to go. Thank you for coming by."
Jinti reflected that, even if Dezza had a doctoring certificate, she
unfortunately didn't really know much about hygene if she let a Ferengi Zim, to be precise - run about the sickbay, getting onto biobeds and
touching the instruments. Now that just wasn't right. Luckily, Jinti knew
a woman who knew everything there was to know about hygene, and so
resolved to have a word with regina about the situation at the first
chance she got.
Finally starting to let the laugh loose after Jinti made her escape, Des
whorled on Zim. "And *you*!" she exclaimed, pointing, "We're going to
have to discuss patient interference and bedside manner..." she declared,
grabbing the 'brain scrambler' and pointing it at him with a gesture that
would've been a little more ominous if she weren't grinning...
Or maybe that made it more so.
=/\= Faylinn =/\=
Arihana was sitting at table outside a café. Her security baby sitter
watching from a few tables away. Arihana looked at the watch face on the
inside of her wrist. She had been here fifteen minutes or so, and was
back again for a retur trip. Given how only four hour stints were the
order of the day, the counsellor was keen to get the show on the road.
Arihana twisted the brown strap so the bezel was the right way up,
humming quietly she took a sip of the fruitjuice she had ordered. "I
apologise, profusely. Being late is something of a malignant quality.
Particulary when attending to guests." Arihana let the liquid go down,
tryng not to choke. The mayor lowered himself into the seat. There was
still there air of affableness about him as he smiled. Arihana pushed the
tumbler away with a finger "Not at all, I've only just arrived myself."
The counsellor sat back in the seat, scanning the mayors face. This was
his turf, he ought to start first.
They had only given a brief introduction during their prior meeting.
Perhaps now they would elaborate a little more. "The uniform, I assume
that is a uniform.The standard garb of this Starfleet institution that
you are part of?" The counsellor nodded, explaining that different
departments were colour coded. "I'm counsellor. Counsellor Arihana Dharma
is my full name, and sometimes, its prefixed with lieutenant. Junior
grade." The mayor nodded, wanting to know a little more. "My primary aim
is to study mental health, and contribute to its well being. However-"
Arihana looked around the piazza. "My role here, whilst we visit Faylimm
is to observe and interpret. A new culture, and it's phenomenological and
anthropological value." Arihana sighed, and looked around again. "Only
all work, makes me very dull. This offer of being shown around, does that
still stand?"
Seb Flint hovered about six paces behind as the mayor and counsellor
walked. Walked down a cobbled street. "It's a beautiful place, really, I
don' think I've ever seen such a paradise. Honestly, Peren, I'd give
anything for an easy life." There was candid conversation, and it flowed.
Yet, Arihana didn't know this fella, this mayor from Adam. "That would
suggest, that you have perhaps a difficult life, would it not?" The
counsellor shrugged, as the walked down a shingle path. There was a
gentle breeze with bird song, as the counsellor and mayor approached the
lake. "I wouldn't say my life has been difficult, it's been interesting.
Colourful, even. My-." Arihana took in the view, a mass of liquid nestled
in rolling green and fertile hills. "Wow. Now that's pretty."
The mayor had seated himself of on a slate grey boulder, that over looked
the lake. Arihana stopped lake side a moment, to let the cool water slip
through her fingers. "But never mind me, what about you?" Arihana dried
her hands on her jersery, to walk back over towards the mayor. He looked
quite young for a man of office, she didn't want to hazard a guess to age
him, would be poor etiquette. Arihana perched on the edge of the boulder,
tilting her head rather inquisitively. "I want to know about you, Peren,
the felim. Who are you, what do you do?" The mayor laughed a little.
There was pleasantness about his features. "Please, I'm curious. Here on
this little globe of yours, perfectly happy not to venture out of your
atmosphere, I really don't get it."
Arihana stood up, twirling around with her arms held out. "There are
whole new worlds out there." She stopped before she got dizzy, to sit
down next to the mayor again. "This is a whole new world, Peren, I mean,
I'm-well, Starfleet are here, taking an interest." He was no doubt as
curious about her, as the counsellor was about him. Arihana couldn't
understand it, as he explained. "We're happy, Arihana, this paradise, as
you put it. It is our home, our world. We take pleasure in what we have,
and don't miss what we haven't got." In a side thought, there was
something about him. He had a gentleness about him, didn't make him aloof
or distant. But respectful, in a smooth charismatic way. " Arihana
listened, making no further attempt to push. "Colourful, you described
your life as colourful. Please, tell me more."
Seb looked at his watched as he stood next to what he assumed was a tree.
Just watching. She didn't know this fella from a ferengi, and was more
than happy to just talk to him. The counsellor, in his mind at least,
failed to add up.
This mayor chap had been filled in, who Arihana was, why she joined
Starfleet, what that strange sport had been played in the piazza. "I had
thought, Arihana, that it was some new form of dance that we had come
across. Now, having heard the rudimentary rules amongst others, I know
come to appreciate it in a new light." Arihana laughed a little, what
about him? "Oh, that will all come to pass, no doubt you and your
colleagues are very curious."
Seb whistled to gain the attention of the counsellor. "Appears I have to
make tracks. I'm sorry, we fail to get ay further with-". The mayor
simpley shook his head. " No doubt, we shall meet again." Arihana smiled
to meet up with Seb. Yep, theywould meet again, Definitely.
"Enter the KnightMare"
=/\= Upper Flight Deck - Starbase BoB =/\=
Hefting the two heavy duffel bags over her shoulders, Mulder's hand
hovered over the entrance to the upper Flight Deck on Level Two. Disused
and abandoned, she had commandeered it for her little fighter vessel,
Greased Lightening. But Greased Lightening was a two-seater fighter with
no facilities and no room to even stand up, so not exactly suitable for
the 2-3 day trip to Argellius.
"Now, I think I should explain a few things before we go in. It wasn't
easy getting hold of a serviceable shuttle at such short notice, in this
part of the galaxy, but we *did* get lucky. Pa has trade contacts all
over the universe, it seems, and he was able to call in a few favors
and..." she opened the doors with a flourish and stood aside to let Ron
precede her in, "...here she is. My very own shuttle."
Grinning at the look on Ron's face, she continued as they walked across
the Bay, "Mother very helpfully registered her with the Aarian Space
Authority, so she isn't bound by Starfleet regulations, as such. Of
course, every shuttle has to have a name...being second-hand, this one
was already named as..." here a slightly embarrassed look crossed her
face, "...well, the literal translation from the original name was 'Wet
Dreams', uhh, it as owned by teenagers, y'see."
"Mother reckoned she looked more like a *bad* dream, and wanted to change
it to that, but father was adamant that it should have a name that spoke
of medieval gallantry, something to do with white steeds and all that
jazz."
The grin returned, "So, when she went to the Aarian Space Authority,
mother came up with a rather clever compromise," they were standing in
front of the ship by now, "Allow me to present the ASA Knightmare."
There was a pause, and she shot a sidelong look at Ron, "Well...what do
you think?"
"Is it warp capable?" He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to release
some of the tension there as he studied the shuttle. It had definitely
seen better days - and it was very seldom that you saw shuttlecraft with
dents and missing paint. . "Better yet - is it *safe*?"
Mulder chuckled as she regarded her new possession. She could well
understand his hesitation. The Knightmare was about as unprepossessing in
appearance as you could imagine. In fact, if you took the word 'elegant'
and imagine the direct opposite of it, that still wasn't close enough a
description.
Whatever form the vessel had originally been, it had been added to with
cheerful abandon and total disregard for symmetry or style. But, despite
that, after inspecting it a few hours ago, she felt oddly attached to it
already. There was a certain uniqueness to its ugliness, and that in
itself was a kind of style.
"Pa got it from the Denariians," she explained, "They're a few sectors
away from here. He describes them as 'a bunch of genial fruit-loops', and
he's worked with them, so he should know. This is a customized meteor
racer. Apparently meteor racing is something of a national sport on the
Denariian homeworld, and this baby was a winner in several championships.
Allegedly."
"Since the Denariius System is riddled with meteor showers, they have
these races all year round. You have to start at the tail-end, facing
against the incoming direction, and then warp on to the next shower,
until they're completed the entire circuit...sounds insane," she laughed,
"But that means this ship is *totally* customized for speed and
strength."
She patted the hull affectionately, "So, she's got a souped-up engine
that can reach Warp 4, triple-backed inertial dampeners, ablative plating
over the sensitive areas, and goes like shit off a shovel, as they say
back home." She patted the side of the craft affectionately.
"Of course, there are no fancy extras; she's completely basic inside.
Everything that isn't useful to the sport has been ripped out, and all
power systems are geared to shielding and speed. In fact, she's probably
got a better shielding system than BoB." She paused, "Okay, so that's
maybe not the most reassuring comparison...she's got a better shielding
system that most *normal* ships or stations. So yes, she's as safe as it
gets."
A small smile quirked onto his face. "I trust you." Hefting the large
duffel bag's strap over his shoulder, Ron headed up the ramp and into the
shuttle. The inside was not nearly as bad as the outside, fortunately.
Ron scouted the interior briefly before dropping his bag into a drawer
receptacle.
"Like I said, it's basic but serviceable," Mulder commented, looking
around. Behind the screen that separated the pilot's area from the rest,
two long benches ran either side that were wide enough to double as
bunks. Towards the back, a small closed-off section held a basic bathroom
function. Behind this, an archway led into the small engineering section,
and that was about all there was.
"There isn't a replicator, of course, so I hope you've brought the
sandwiches," she held up a hand, "Only joking. Well, not about the
replicator, but about the sandwiches. I've raided BoB's stores and
brought along a whole pile of rations," she undid the top of one duffel
bag and poured a heap of small foil wrapped pouches onto a ledge. "Of
course, as it's *BoB's* stores, they aren't labelled...so for all I know
I could have doomed us to eating oatmeal with blue cheese dressing for
the entire trip."
A small shadow of doubt crossed her face, "I hope this is alright for
you, Ron, I - " but he cut her off.
"Have I mentioned that I'm *really* grateful that you are coming along?"
She relaxed and smiled, "And have *I* mentioned that I wouldn't have had
it any other way?" She slid into the pilot's seat, "You'd better get
aquatinted with the controls," she nodded to the spare seat, "It's a long
trip so you'll need to take the odd stint at the helm for me."
He grinned at her, and sat in the co-pilot's chair next to him. "Wish I
could. I know absolutely *squat* about shuttle piloting."
"What??" for a moment she was stunned into silence. "You've *never* flown
a shuttle before? I thought *proper* Starfleet officers, knew everything
about *everything*."
He mock-sneered at her comment. "Usually, Oh Pilot Divine, I'm in the
back," he jerked a thumb over his shoulder, indicating the larger cabin
area behind them, "trying to keep the insides *inside* my patients. So,
I'll make you a deal. You show me how this shuttle works, and I'll show
you how to prep a patient for cryo-freeze and storage into a transporter
matrix."
She gave him a bemused glance, "I'll stick to what I know, thanks."
"Heh. I thought not."
She shook her head in wry amusement at the thought of *her* attempting
anything medical, and returned her attention to the console, running
through the pre-flight checks. Satisfied all was in order, she commed the
Flight Deck, for the final formalities. "...ASA Knightmare requesting
permission for departure..." Receiving clearance, she swept the squat
little vessel outwards and into the starry blackness outside.
"Of course," she spoke slightly absently as she laid in the course, "We
don't have any weapons systems, as such - they don't exactly expect to
get into a firefight along a race-track. The only thing we *do* have,"
she indicated a control midway between them, "...are blasters. Meteor
blasters, to be precise. Designed to...well, the name says it all. That
will smash a huge chunk of rock the size of a small planet to
smithereens, so it's to be used only in direct emergency. No refined
shots across the bows in *this* baby. One blat and the game's over..."
she didn't look exactly disheartened at that, "So anyone crossing our
path with evil intent would be *well* advised to think again. We don't
play nice - because we *can't*."
Still chattering away, she continued, "What I like about this ship, is
it's designed to be flown manually. That's *good*, in my book. It does
have a very basic autopilot, of course, so you don't really have to worry
about co-piloting, I guess. I don't need all that much sleep, so provided
we make good time, all you need to do is watch the controls and yell if
anything goes cranky."
Ron watched Caz's fingers dancing across the board, playing the console
with the skill and grace of a maestro pianist. "Still and all, I can't
help thinking that it might *help* to know, someday."
"Okay," she agreed after a moment's thought, "No time like the present.
Right," she indicated a slide-lever where her left hand rested, "That's
the speed control at impulse - which is what they use to navigate the
meteors themselves, of course. Slide it upwards until," she flicked her
fingers outwards to a control just to the left of the speed control,
"Until you're ready to go to warp. Hit that," she did so, "and off you
go." The light streamed and streaked as space blurred and the ship shot
forwards. "Simple, really - going at the pace the racers do, it *has* to
be simple."
Pulling the ship back to impulse, she then indicated what appeared to be
a roller ball, set halfway into the right hand side of the console. "This
is *the* all important impulse control. This covers all maneuvering
thrusters, all directions along the entire 360 degree axis." She rolled
the ball sharply forward, and the nose of the Knightmare dived forward,
then repeated backwards and sideways. "Of course, you can always do
*this*" she span the ball sideways abruptly, and the ship spiralled in a
sideways corkscrew.
"Now you see why the dampeners need to be good," she laughed. The joy of
flying never faded, whatever the vessel. "All you have to do is keep this
on an even keel, measure it against the speed you want to go, and...
er...watch out for incoming objects in the flight path. Now, you have a
go." She leapt up from her seat and indicated that Ron should replace
her.
"Off you go then," she instructed when they had changed places, "Go for
it."
The shuttle pivoted on its vertical axis, throwing the pair of them
towards the control board and into their restraints.
"Whoa," she dived across and righted the ship, "Be gentle, Ron. It only
needs the lightest touch, like a surgeons laser scalpel."
Another try and the ship slanted sharply sideways, sloping away downwards
through space.
"Hmmm...Somehow, that doesn't seem quite *right*, Mulder."
"That's because you're not *doing* it right."
"Well, *you're* the one supposed to be teaching me - teach *better*!"
She gave him the sort of look a very prim school teacher would give a
recalcitrant pupil, eyeing him archly over a pair of imaginary
spectacles, "I suggest you *learn* better, young man, or I'll be keeping
you behind after classes for some...extra lessons." She ruined the effect
with a saucy chuckle.
He grinned and winked at her, enjoying the bit of play. It masked the
pain inside, made it easier to pretend that nothing was wrong.
She stared at him for a long moment, and then said quietly, "You don't
have to hide it y'know. Not with me."
"Huh?"
"The look on your face, Ron," she turned back to the controls, watching
the screen, giving him visual privacy, "Don't forget I can read you too
well. Even if I'm not *trying* to."
Ron turned to look out the shuttle's starboard screen. "I'm still getting
adjusted to it, I suppose. Just when I think everything's balanced out,
it hits me all over again."
"Give it time. Ah, sorry, that's such a crap cliché...but it's only been
a few days since you heard, there's no way you can just...get over it.
Let the grieving process happen naturally, as it needs to. You'll come
through when you're ready, and not before."
"I suppose so." He shivered slightly at the feeling inside, and then
pointed at the Nav console. "Okay. So how does this work?"
=/\= Felim Central Archives - Planet Faylinn =/\=
"Greetings, welcome to Faylinn, Lieutenant, is it?" Professor Hellon
extended his arm stiffly towards Parvis.
"Yes, but please, call me Parvis. Thank you for the invitation." Parvis
stared at the outthrust arm. He blinked against the bright light of the
Faylinn noontime sun.
"I'm sorry, I was told this was your custom? The shaking of the hand? Was
I misinformed?" Hellon drew his hand back a bit.
"Oh, yes, of course." Parvis reached up and grabbed the hand, offering a
few weak shakes. The Felim's skin was rough to the touch.
"Let's get you inside and get started, shall we?" Hellon led the way up
the wide steps towards the entrance to the large building. He chattered
with smalltalk.
The cool air inside was a welcome relief to Parvis. His eyes slowly
adjusted to the light as they made their way into the lobby.
"This top level is used for cultural functions, art displays,
celebrations and the like." Hellon waved around him at the vast, open
space.
"Top level?" Parvis asked.
"Yes. The archives are kept downstairs. For preservation of the
documents. Cool, dry, and dark. After you." Hellon bowed before Parvis,
indicating the stairway they were to descend.
Parvis got his first good look at Hellon's Felim features as he bowed.
Small cranial ridges and elongated ears were the most obvious. A faint
streak of dirty gray hair ran along the top of his head, front-to-back,
like a skunk's stripe. As the Professor rose, Parvis saw rougher patches
of skin, running down the sides of his head before the ears, turning
forward along the jaw just so, giving the impression of sideburns.
"Of course." With a glance at his security escort, Parvis cautiously
descended, Hellon and the guard in tow.
Discreet lighting gave the room they entered a gentle, dim glow. Wide
tables ran down the center of the room, littered with texts, large and
small. Shelving lined the walls to either side. Doors led outwards in
multiple directions.
"This is quite something," Parvis nodded at the collection, as Hellon
turned up the lighting in the room. "It would take quite a while to get
through all of this, yes?"
"This? Oh, this is just the reading room. We keep a few frequently-used
items here, but most of what you see was drawn for the archives in
adjoining rooms and the sublevels. We really should refile the items more
frequently, but some of them are so popular with our scholars that they
just seem to stay here." Hellon walked over to the nearest table and
closed a heavy, bound text. "They should be more careful. This is an
older one, leaving it open exposes the pages and might crack the
binding."
"I see. Well, if you could show me how to use the directory, perhaps we
could search for," Parvis paused, spinning around. "Where do you keep
your electronic directory of the collection?"
"I'm sorry? Oh, dear, no. We don't have such a thing. We'll just have to
sort through it by hand. Don't worry, I am the most familiar with the
layout of the archives. I know where most everything is kept. Mostly. At
least, I can find most of it by the second or third try, usually." Hellon
smiled widely at Parvis.
"I see." Parvis made low grumbling noises as his security escort chuckled
and moved to test some chairs for comfort.
"Perhaps we can start by training this." Parvis held up his PADD and
tricorder. "I'll need some representative samples of your writing to
scan. Don't worry, it is a completely passive optical scan, it won't harm
the documents in the least."
"Oh, you have a translation device?" Hellon stared closly at the devices.
"I will. Once I can get some samples, then transmit them back to the
base, and perhaps the Enforcer. They can run the usual algorithms on the
data and produce a translation matrix, plus any custom routines needed
for text recognition, in the event of hand-written documents."
"Remarkable. What is this...algorithm...you speak of?" Hellon asked.
"Oh. It is a word we use for how our computing devices do their work. How
they are programmed. I believe the name originated with a notable
technologist on Earth. This man, Algore, he apparently created their
first planetary communications network. The Interphone, I think they
called it."
"Interesting. Thus he was immortalized with a word in their language? And
other cultures have taken it up?" Hellon asked.
"Yes. The remarkable irony of it all is that the Interphone did not even
last all that long." Parvis struggled to remember the details from his
Terran history course at the Academy. "It was, despite being a powerful
network for the electronic exchange of information, primarily used to
coordinate the distribution of printed texts. They used the vast power of
this planetwide network simply to coordinate the distribution of printed
texts. And music."
"Your knowledge of an alien culture's history is remarkable, you will do
well with our collection, I expect." Hellon nodded in agreement.
"Yes. The end of the story is that the Interphone was eventually
overwhelmed by pornographic content. A few decades after it went
operational, it collapsed under the load. It took them years to rebuild a
more stable system." Parvis nodded gravely.
"Indeed." Hellon shook his head at the folly.
"Perhaps you could select some representative texts for me to scan?"
Hellon nodded. "Yes. A few texts with different styles, some different
printing and writing samples. Perhaps a couple of elementary literacy
tutorials? We should have time for all that, then a quick meal at a local
establishment while your people perform algorithms, yes?"
"Yes, that sounds good." And it takes me safely up to the four hour mark,
Parvis thought.
=/\= Science Lab - Starbase BoB =/\=
The doors opened to science lab and Drake Bastian stepped in,
"Paxan...you here?" he asked as he looked around. Most of the lab was
deserted as many of the technicians had been released for shore leave.
Centered at the main scanning suite, Paxan Brey was bent over staring
intently into the viewer.
"Paxan?" Drake asked again as he walked towards her, "What are you doing?
I thought we were going to meet in the shuttlebay?"
Looking up form the scanner, Paxan tucked the blonde hair that was
normally in her eyes, behind her ear and frowned, "Hey...I'm almost
ready. I just need to do a few more things before I go down to Faylinn."
He sighed melodramatically, "What are you talking about?" Drake groaned,
"I thought you were going to get ready to leave for the surface."
"I was but there are some things that came up, the specimens that I
brought from Faylinn,"
"What's up with them?" Drake asked.
"They're all dead," she stated plainly, "All the insect life I brought
back with me at least," said the young scientist, "I took several insect
specimens from the surface during my first visit and they're all
dead...smashed to smithereens it looks like. Probably from the trip back
though the atmosphere; it was a bumpy ride after all."
"So these mashed bugs are holding up my shore leave?"
Paxan chuckled and looked back at the scanner, "Calm down. I'm just going
to enter them into a stasis field and I should be good to go."
Bastian exhaled heavily, "Finally! I'm ready to hit the beach."
Paxan laughed, "You act like this is all just fun and games," she said
with a grin as she double-checked the status on the dead bugs she'd just
sealed into stasis. The report was also instantly sent to all department
heads. Thinking back to the planet, Paxan knew that although it would be
beautiful it would be work as well.
"Are you ready now?" Drake asked.
Brey grinned as she looked back from the insects she'd collected from
Faylinn's surface, "I think so," she said with a smirk, "My bags are
already in the shuttlebay. Give me a second to send a message to Felix so
he knows where I'm at." Her hands danced across the com-console as she
wrote a short note to her boyfriend and transmitted it via the internal
computer relay.
Looking back at Drake, Paxan walked over, "Okay, all done. I'm ready
now."
The marine grinned, "Let the good times begin."
"Funeral Colours"
=/\= En route to Argellius =/\=
The gleam of warp space flew past the front portal, sparkling with
unimaginable colors, defying name or description. Feet propped on the
console, Ron stared at them, lost in his own thoughts.
Pausing for a moment, Caz stole a quiet look at Ron. For once he seemed
almost peaceful, almost a rest with himself. She knew full well the
stress that was fermenting underneath, but even so, she kept silent for a
full moment longer, willing him to have as much respite as she could
possibly give him from the trials ahead.
Eventually, she spoke quietly so as not to startle him, "Time for me to
take a turn now, fly-boy." She moved to the co-pilot's seat, "You looked
deep in thought - what's on your mind?"
"Hm?" Turning his head, he smiled at her, and dropped his boots to the
floor to sit upright. "Just thinking about the days ahead."
"Yeah," she wriggled into the seat, "It's going to be quite a party.
Sorry. No offence intended. Funeral, then. It's going to be quite a
funeral. So tell me," she maneuvered herself out of any potential
awkwardness, "Do you have to officiate at the funeral in any way? Are
they giving you a welcome-home party first?"
"Well, there will be a number of ceremonies. I take it from the few
dispatches I received before leaving that I'm being treated as the
'Prodigal Son', calf and all, rather than being received in disgrace for
abandoning my family and my House." He grimaced at the sentence, and then
shook his head. "If it were me, I'd rather just skip it. But Grandfather
is insisting upon it before he'll even let me into the funeral."
"Insisting on *what*? Some ceremony before he'll let you attend your own
mother's funeral? You want me to let him have a taste of these meteorblasters to help change his mind?" She glowered at the thought of Ron
having to go through any *more* hassle than was necessary, and was about
to expand further, but curiosity overcame her, "What sort of ceremony are
we talking about here?"
"The ceremony is mainly a place for me to re-affirm my 'loyalties' to my
house - something that we'll have to hash out as soon as we get there.
I'm already oath-bound, as it were, to Starfleet. I cannot take a second
oath that will force me to cross over the first, by Argellian law. So
it's a place in which he'll *have* to bend."
"And if he doesn't?"
"He will. If he doesn't, I'll go to the Parliamental Government and file
against him. Tradition cannot keep me away from my mother's funeral." Ron
swallowed back the grief and sorrow, clearing his throat to prove to
himself and Caz that he was in control. "So I don't think it'll be an
issue."
"I should bloody well think *not*," she muttered. "Sounds a right whacked
out job to me..." Out of the corner of her eye she could see Ron
struggling with his feelings, and in an attempt to level the conversation
again asked carefully, "How do the Argellians honor their departed?"
He cleared his throat, visibly pushing down the "There will be a private
viewing, allowing each family member to spend a few moments with her body
and speaking to her spirit. After each has had his or her turn, the
announcement will be made, and the hall will be opened to the public for
the funeral to begin. As House Jerillion is a House Major, I expect it
will be standing room only." He smirked as various ironic and sarcastic
thoughts passed through his mind, unspoken.
"Once the funeral is finished, the stasis unit will be set upon the
ritual pyre, and it's fusion bottle will be shorted. It will ignite the
pyre, and the body will be destroyed utterly, freeing the spirit to
ascend to the Creator, the Tester and the Comforter. Then, a celebration
feast will commence, for however long people want to be there, during
which I will take another oath to assume the leadership of House
Jerillion once Grandfather Ilisisone passes."
"Three different deities, huh? Ethiks, your people really like to make
things complicated, don't you?" she said with some measure of
exasperation. "I don't mean to sound rude here, but when gods get
involved there's usually trouble. I mean, there's no *guarantee* that
they'll look after the departed in the way you'd like them too, or that
their plane of existence is decent and civilized. They don't take the
trouble to come down and give personal assurances, or allow preview
visits. And yet, they get all this worship and adulation. It's take,
take, take with gods, believe me. I'm glad we don't have any dealings
with their lazy omnipotent asses any more."
She chuckled quietly to herself, her Jaz'Aarian atheism asserting itself
brifly. "I'm surprised, Ron. I thought your people had enough savvy to be
able to fend for themselves as a society without old-fashioned *gods*
getting in the way. A funeral should be about honoring the memory of the
departed, without letting anything distract you."
"Well. I suppose. if you look at it that way. But it brings comfort to us
in a way, I suppose." His stare returned to the portal, introspective.
She made a non-committal noise that could have meant anything, then
changed the subject, "So, what's *my* part in all this?"
Here, Ron grinned and breathed a chuckle. "Poor Mulder. Did *you* ever
get suckered into a bad spot."
"Yeah, the day my bastard Government screwed my career over and kicked me
into Starfleet," came the moody reply as her early years of bitterness
crept briefly in. "Though, I guess it hasn't been *all* bad," she amended
with a laugh, giving Ron a meaningful smile. "In fact, I enjoy my life on
BoB more than I ever thought possible. I wouldn't change the way things
worked out for anything in the world. Funny how a career that starts so
dismally can become the most important and meaningful thing that ever
happens. But I don't think that's exactly what you were talking about.
How bad a spot have got suckered into *now*?"
"The Second Connection"
=/\= En route to Argellius =/\=
It was a good question, so she repeated it, especially since there was no
immediate answer. "C'mon, tell. How bad a spot have got suckered into
*now*?"
"As I have 'broken allegiance' with my House when I ran away from home, I
no longer have a Second."
"A Second what?"
Stretching and rubbing his neck, he shrugged, trying to think of how to
boil such a complex relationship into something that could be explained
in understandable terms. "When a child is born of the House Major
bloodline, another Argellian of non-House rank and same age is selected
to be raised next to him or her. They are called the Second - it is as
close to being part of a House as a non-House member can get. Great
prestige, and whatnot." He snorted at the idea. "Your Second is like your
brother or your sister in relationship - you are raised together, sleep
together, learn and study together, and so on. Sometimes, a House Lord or
Lady will make their Second a Eorr've. A. well, I suppose the Terran
Native American equivalent to a Blood Brother would be the closest
description - though still not quite correct."
Flipping a hand into the air as if to cast the idea away, Ron continued.
"Anyway, as the pair grow older, they begin to separate into their
appropriate trainings: the House child into business, economics,
diplomacy, profitable business strategies and whatnot, as needed to
control a Trade House. The Second trains in a different path; as a
bodyguard, a chancellor, a major-domo, and strangely enough, some rather
unsavory talents such as assassination, demolitions, and so on." He
smirked sardonically, and put his hands in the air as if in refusal. "Oh,
of *course*, everyone *knows* that these are simply *traditional* forms
of training - and *never* used in the modern world." Another snort of
irony, accompanied a lopsided grin.
Understanding was beginning to dawn, "So you want *me* to be your
Second?" she gaped. "Ethiks, Ron...how the heck am *I* supposed to know
what to do? What the hell do *I* know about your people, your protocols,
your ways?"
Ron eyed her studying her face carefully. "You don't have to do it
permanently - I just need you to stand by me in that office, as it were.
After all, you have the appropriate training, Mulder. You are an
ex...what? Cop? Intelligence agent? Spy?" He shook his head. "Doesn't
matter. I'm certain your father, being of some Terran nobility form I
don't *quite* understand, has familiarized you in how to behave in 'high
society'. As to the rest." he frowned, shifting his gaze to the floor,
and then back to the portal, "I don't plan on staying, so I won't need to
worry about governmental procedures."
"Hey," she sounded quite indignant, "I am *perfectly* able to conduct
myself in society, y'know. Despite my usual, uhh, casual attitude I *am*
my father's daughter."
*And you weren't here to meet him a few months ago, and someone else was.
And there is more Terran aristocracy on the station that you might think*
her private ruminations tumbled in without warning. *Oh Ron, why did you
have to stay away so long? Even now, there is so much I can't tell you.
But maybe, just maybe, this is the break we need. Tragic though the
circumstances are, at least it's just us - together - taking on the world
like we always said we would. Time to re-group, just you and me.*
She picked up her chatter, realising she'd fallen silent. "And that 'some
form of terran nobility' as you so dismissively put it, is the *only*
nobility worth recognising, in my book. Anyone elses nobility is usually
the two-a-penny kind where everyone on the planet is an earl or a king."
She turned to give him a mock-glare, then bit off her next words as she
scanned him carefully, reading every line of his body. "There's more,
isn't there?" she asked quietly. "Something you haven't told me yet.
C'mon, Ron. I'm going to need to know *everything* there is to know about
this caper if we're going to pull it off successfully. What's up?"
He refused to look at her, instead focusing his attention to the stars
outside. "I suckered you into this, on purpose, Mulder. It was wrong of
me to bring you along, and then assume that you'd be okay with the setup.
The depth of emotion and connection between a House member and his or her
Second is...incredibly intense. It's so. complex. Some say it's a love as
held between family, others say it is closer to pair-bonding, still
others insist that it is too intricate to even define. Quite often, when
of opposite sexes, and sometimes even within same sexes, the two partnerbond for life, forswearing all others. In fact, it is a favorite topic in
the entertainment arts and writings." He sighed, crossing his fingers
over his stomach. "And I tricked you into it. Everyone will assume that
we are...well...you know. So, if you like, when we get there, we can
simply announce you as my Starfleet escort." Another wry chuckle escaped
his lips. "Granted, it is a social disgrace - Grandfather will squirm
like a F'riez on a hook. But it may be worth a few laughs."
"Oh." She digested all of this for a moment. The reached over and punched
him, hard, on the arm.
"Hey! What's that for?" He rubbed the arm, looking disgruntled.
"For...for being a jerk. For thinking I'd be *offended*at that sort of
closeness. For being too chicken to tell me about it first. For thinking
I'd want to wriggle out of it. For not trusting me. For trying to trick
me. For...for..." She made a sound of complete and utter exasperation.
Ron rubbed his shoulder "Well, I *did*!"
"Uhh? You did *what?" she snapped, thoroughly confused now.
"Sucker you into it. I didn't explain it all. Hell, I *still* haven't
explained it all yet, Caz."
She let out a long breath, and gave a rueful laugh. "Ron, you are a Grade
A idiot. When I said I'd go with you, I meant I'd be willing to face
anything that the...mission, for want of a better word, threw at us.
Trust me, Ron. I want this to work out for you, I want to *help* this
work out for you, and I'll do whatever it takes." She swallowed hard,
"All these years I haven't been able to do anything at all to help you,
don't cheat me out of a chance to be useful *now*." Her voice sank to a
whisper, "Count me in. I'll learn what I have to, and we'll wing the
rest. Let this be my welcome-home gift to you."
He smiled at her, genuinely touched by what she'd said. "Well,
considering we have a while to travel, I'm sure I'll have time to bore
you to death with it."
=/\= Zerin's Quarters - USS Caledonia =/\=
Zerin plodded into the bathroom to fill Sputnik the rabbit's water
bottle. She looked at herself in the mirror and cringed. Her eyes were
watery red. Her hair was a flustered, straggly mess. She ran her fingers
through her chestnut-colored locks and looked at herself again. BLEH!
As soon as she'd given Sputnik his water, she hopped into the shower. She
looked like hell and that wouldn't do. As she stood there, her stomach
felt as if she'd swallowed a boulder and her head seemed to be filled
with microscopic Brillo pads. She silently cursed Emel the hippie chick,
but figured Raven's authorities would deal with the woman. Zerin
certainly hoped nobody would bill her for damages to the now-destroyed
food stall.
*How do you keep blowing stuff up, anyway?* a voice told her. *A shuttle,
the urinals on BoB, and now this.*
She grinned. *Zerin Fell, ops queen and destruction machine.*
And then her stomach contents found their way up the hatch. She hopped
out of the shower, stuck her head in the toilet and then..."HOOOOO-WULP!"
***
Twenty minutes later...
"You know, Carsin, you should put your spiritual crisis on hold," Sandrik
said in a low voice.
Carsin glared. "You heard those infidels, talking about the word of
Beeblebrox. They visited the same station I did, yet they found another
spiritual path. Clearly the *wrong* path."
Sandrik sighed. "Maybe there's room for several gods."
"Maybe, just MAYBE this is a runup to the end times," Carsin replied.
"We already had that," Sandrik said. "Sisko beat Dukat, Dukat is stuck in
the fire caves with the pagh wraiths, Kai Winn got toasted, and-"
"Hello," Zerin said, managing a weak grin. She wasn't nauseous anymore,
but she did feel as if someone had vacuumed out her intestines. Maybe she
should visit sickbay. "Are the cargo transporters operational?"
"Only one is, ma'am," Sandrik said.
"Only one. Cargo transporter. Is operational."
"Only one."
"Have you tried fixing the others?" Zerin asked.
"No."
"Then fix the others," Zerin said.
"The parts are missing," Sandrik explained.
"Have you gone to look for other parts?" Zerin said.
"No."
"Well, you can't fix the cargo transporters without the missing parts.
Are they in engineering?"
"I don't know."
"Did you ask?"
"No."
"Maybe you should go down to engineering and see if they have extra
parts, Sandrik," Zerin said helpfully. She resisted the urge to add a
"duh." "Please go down to engineering and ask for extra parts to fix the
cargo transporters."
"Yes, ma'am," Sandrik said, stepping out of the room.
Zerin managed a small grin at Carsin. "Keep an eye on ops functions at
this level. If you need me, I'll be up on the bridge," she explained. She
returned to the turbolift and felt something weird in her stomach...
She doubled over and then upchucked some more stomach contents. A pink
bunny appeared in front of her. "You know, Lieutenant, perhaps you should
head to sickbay," Gertrude said helpfully.
"You think?" Zerin replied. "Sorry to be sarcastic. Gertrude, please take
me down to sickbay. Please, before...HOOOOO-WULP!"
=/\= Holodeck - USS Caledonia =/\=
The Crystal Tower stood before her, glowing and sparkling in the dim
lighting of the cavern. Kita stood and breathed deeply, the air even
smelled right. And yet, something was fundamentally wrong about the
cavern she was standing in, the world that the holodeck was able to
create. She supposed she should just chalk it up to an imperfect
representation, but somehow she couldn't help but feel that it might not
be just the representation that was off.
She was feeling isolated these days and somehow less than what she's once
been. As if the final line to home had been cut, taking part of her
identity with her.
She didn't want to feel that way...she wanted her memories of home to be
as sharp and perfect as ever. But the longer she was here the less
precise they became. And the fact that she couldn't identify what was
wrong with the holodeck's representation of her home bothered her. She
should have been able to pinpoint the problem in an instant...instead she
was debating it with herself...unable to resolve what was nagging at her
as not being quite right.
Kita was terrified that she was losing who she was and that eventually it
wouldn't matter that her homeworld was so far away. And she desperately
didn't want that to happen. She wanted it to always matter that she was
here alone, she wanted it to always be important that she someday
returned home. And yet, at the moment she couldn't fathom the thought of
leaving this area for the time it would take to journey home and back.
She brushed away tears and wondered when things had gotten so damned
complicated. It was supposed to be easy, she was who she was. But these
days she wasn't even sure she knew who she was anymore. Something had
changed and somewhere inside herself she wasn't so sure she liked it.
It appeared that not all change was a good thing.
=/\= Mulder's Office - Upper Promenade - Starbase BoB =/\=
Here he was. Again. Cade had not desire to be behind the CO's desk, and
certainly not twice in the same year. Having this steaming pile of crap
heaped on him sucked, so he was determined to pull a few others in with
him.
"Vaughan to Lieutenants Maru and Brey. Please report to the Base
Commander's office immediately."
"Heroic ministers. Brave Professor with exciting new theory. Where am I?"
Parvis scanned the article from Ena eagerly, hoping for some mention. Of
course, he wasn't in there. Sitting back in his seat, he knew it was for
the best. The peoples back home couldn't manage the news of a half-breed
being involved in the recent incident.
Parvis' comm badge activated with the summons. "Oh, great. New boss is
cleaning house." He paused. "I can see him getting rid of me, but why
Lieutenant Brey?"
Paxan was about to step onto the shuttlecraft bound for Faylinn when she
got the page from Vaughan. Sighing heavily, the young scientist explained
to her bodyguard Drake Bastian that she would only be a few minutes and
that he could either wait for her or meet her on the surface.
Grudgingly, Drake agreed to wait, although he was now becoming antsy at
being delayed yet again. Smiling graciously, Paxan hurried out the door
and rushed to Mulder's office.
=/\= =/\= =/\=
Instead of asking the two officers to sit, Cade stood. "You both heard
Captain Mulder's announcement about leaving command to me, yeah?" He
waited for a moment and got a couple of head nods. "As Acting Commander,
I have the power to appoint Acting Executive Officers." He let that
sentence sink in for a brief second. "To cut right to the chase, you two
are now on my command team."
Parvis, holding his breath for the news, released a burst of laughter.
Paxan's tried not to look surprised but was probably doing a bad job of
it. She liked the idea of being in a command position but this new
assignment along with her duties Faylinn meant that she would have very
little free time, which was fine considering how bad her personal life
had been of late.
Keeping busy was exactly what the young woman needed.
Regaining control, Parvis grew very solemn. Neither Paxan or Cade seemed
to think it was a joke. "Yes, sir?" he asked.
Pulling her eyes away from the embarrassingly nervous counselor, Paxan
looked back to Cade, "You can count on me, sir," she said confidently. It
was important that she did a good job, it would go a long way in her
hopes of getting into command someday.
"Good." Cade tapped the computer screen. "Computer, begin recording,
Marine Commander's Official Log, Stardate 240604.09. As of this date, I
have assumed temporary command of the station at the orders of Captain
Ca'assirri Mulder of Starfleet and will remain in such position until she
returns. Reference official orders of this date and logged entry of
command code exchange. Also as of this date, I am appointing Lieutenant
Parvis Maru as Acting Executive Officer of Starbase BoB and Lieutenant
Paxan Brey as Acting Second Officer of Starbase BoB. Said positions to be
filled until such time as they are fired and replaced, killed in the line
of duty, or relieved due to the return of Captain Mulder. End recording,
file, and transmit copy to Gamma Fleet Headquarters with daily status
report."
Again, Paxan tried to hide her surprise. This time though it was at the
arrangement of rank between he and Parvis. She had never been the jealous
type or anyone who begrudged a fellow officer's rewards but, HOW COULD HE
POSSIBLY BE CHOSEN TO OUTRANK HER??? Was this some kind of ridiculous
joke?
Clearing her throat, the young woman nodded and glanced at Parvis. She
tried to smile at him but lost focus as she imagined ripping his
horrendous blue wig from his scalp.
Parvis' eyes were wide. Executive Officer? Him? He peered around, looking
for the holocamera that was surely recording the prank.
Cade smiled at the two Lieutenants. "You both know that you're going to
be doing double duty, yeah? In addition to the command assignments I've
given you, you will also have to complete your primary duties in the
Counseling and Science departments. Is that clear?"
"Yes, sir!" Parvis nodded. Arihana had gotten along without him on base,
she could certainly keep it up.
"Be ready for long hours, cramped fingers, and blurry vision from staring
at computer screens." He gestured for the two chairs opposite the desk
and then took his own seat. "At any given time, two of the three of us
will be on the station to maintain command functions during this
investigation. I will be relying on the two of you heavily since I am in
the middle of planning a joint tactical exercise with the Felim military.
The perk, however, is that you two are not restricted to the four hour
time limit that everyone else is. My intent is for us to take 12 hour
shifts on the planet to conduct whatever departmental affairs that we
need to do. Again, being done one at a time so that two of us are here."
Paxan had gotten her emotions under control and was now listening
intently to Cade's game plan. "That shouldn't be a problem, sir," said
the young woman diplomatically. The idea of being locked up here while
there were new discoveries on Faylinn was making her tense, but that came
with the job.
Parvis gulped. How many shuttle rides was that going to be for him in a
week's time?
"This should only be for a week, and then we'll be able to get back to
normal." He smiled at them again. "I promised Captain Mulder that the
station would still be here when she got back. I'm counting on the two of
you to help me keep that promise. Questions?"
"No, sir!" Parvis nodded. As he turned to leave, he considered one
implication of the situation. He was now, sort of, the superior officer
to such people as Yus, Shinandra, and Paxan. Oh, Harold, he thought to
himself, this isn't going to end well, is it?
Glancing at Parvis, already becoming irritated, Paxan turned back to
Vaughan and shook her head, "I think we get the jist of it, sir," she
said, "I will do whatever is needed to fulfill my obligations, though I
must tell you that I have several appointments on Faylinn that I will
need to follow-up on."
"They you get the first shift to the surface. Running the station is my
prime responsibility. Solving the mystery of Faylinn is still yours,
Lieutenant Brey." Cade swivelled in his chair for a second. "And on that
topic, do you have any preliminary results on those samples that you
took?"
"My report was filed on the situation with the insects I brought back
from Faylinn. They all died in transport from the surface. Turns out they
are very fragile.I was actually just on my way back down to the surface
to continue more field study."
Cade leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. "No bullshit,
Lieutenant. Can you handle the additional responsibilities of being the
2XO?"
Paxan nodded again, "Don't worry, I can handle it," she said, "If I'm
needed for anything than either you or Lieutenant Maru can reach me on my
communicator," she said with a quick glance at Parvis.
"Oh, yes, certainly. Yep, call me anytime." Parvis smiled at Paxan, a
gentle leer on his face.
Cade suppressed a small grin and shook his head. "Then I guess that's all
I have for you two right now."
"Thank you," she replied, "If there isn't anything else. I have a
shuttlecraft waiting to take me to the surface."
"Safe journey, Lieutenant Brey. Lieutenant Maru, I suggest you
familiarize yourself with the Command Center as you're drawing shifts
there now. You're both dismissed."
Cade watched them leave and turned to the computer screen to start some
work, but stopped and leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind
his head. Despite trying to hide it, he had noticed the range of emotions
in Paxan's face. And that was precisely why he didn't give her the XO
slot; there was no place for hurt feelings and barely disguised outrage
in 'his' command structure. Beyond that, though, she would be an evening
influence on Parvis' sure-to-be manic behavior.
Parvis. He wasn't necessarily the best one for the job, but more the only
one. Yus would have been ideal, but in addition to trying to plan a
wedding, she had the small matter of keeping the station in orbit to deal
with. Mattingly's plate was full arranging escorts for the shore leave
parties, wedding preparation, and the usual run of incidents that BoB
produced. Felix, besides acting a little off lately, was going to be run
ragged leading the shuttle service between BoB and Faylinn. Alleir was
too junior and too naive. And Dharma, well, he couldn't afford an XO that
threatened everyone with bodily harm and had a track record for
vandalism.
Parvis. The new XO. Cade smiled. Once Mulder found out that he did that,
there was no way that Mulder would leave him in charge of the station
again.
The day was starting to look better already.
"The Quick and the Stupid."
=/\= Starbase BoB =/\=
Red was beginning to get antsy. The bags were full and they needed time
to lift them and get into the tunnels of the base before a security
detail could find them or track them. At this rate they weren't going to
get far. "Come on, how much longer?"
"Done!" Krumble excaimed in unison with a bang on the front of the Bank's
doors.
Beyond the windows of the branch voices could be heard and frantic
movement was painfully apparent. A second bang accompanied the first and
then the echo of someone's voice warning them to give up and come out
empty handed blared forth.
"Go!" Red shouted, jumping onto the rope and winching himself halfway up.
With the commotion outside and her brother still fighting to get out of
the bank before getting caught, Violet couldn't stand to keep quiet
anymore. The painful sight of the bumbling robbers was more than she
could bare, "Ya coudda dun better wit mey, but naaa. Pathetic reallay.
See if'n I come visit ya when yer wholed up!"
Narrowing his eyes and looking down as he swung back and forth, Red
searched for the owner of the voice and honed in on a woman by the
banker. Looking closer as she raised her head a little more, he gritted
his teeth and screeched out in a whiney voice, "VI!"
=/\= FedBank - Starbase BoB =/\=
"Yer such a dumbass Red!" Violet dropped her forehead into the palm of
her hand that lay on the floor with the rest of her body. "Git up da
rope!"
Another bang came at the door outside, this one too big to be a warning.
"Shite, dhere cumin tru!" Red shouted through gritted teeth. Realising
the plan was steadily coming apart at its fragile seams he absailed back
down the rope and eyed Krumble. "Okay, dis is how we're gonna' work it,
you go first, i'll toss'n up der bags and den follow. Dun go to far...and
dunna tink ah stealin' it on yer own!"
"Ah!" Exclaimed the Ferengi with a nod. He was now the first man into the
vents, that wasn't the plan...it was all falling apart, they were going
to get caught. "Okay, vents, bags, wait...i can do that," he added,
attempting to calm down somewhat.
=/\= =/\= =/\=
Gigi Gomez would rather have been working on her suntan, but the party of
Bolians she had been assigned to escort had all gone down with a stomach
bug, and the rest of the shift's flights were all covered, so she'd gone
out on patrol - which is where she was when the call came in.
"Alert from FedBank, Lower Promenade. Suspected robbery in progress," the
voice chirped.
"AH! action," she was thankful for something to do. "Sodov, Trotter - get
your scabby asses down to Lower promenade," she called, and within the
space of a couple of minutes they had congregated outside the doors.
"It's locked," Sodov said helpfully.
Rolling her eyes, Gomez hammered on the door. "Open UP! Security! We are
armed - open up NOW!"
Silence.
Barry Trotter started thumping, with Gomez adjusting the settings on her
phaser.
=/\= =/\= =/\=
"Git up da rope!" Violet repeated through gritted teeth as she looked up
at her brother, who for a quick moment seemed to be looking like a deer
caught in headlights in her eyes. "What da hells wrong wit cha? Ya wanna
git caught? Dun let dat Ferengi go wit da monies!" Violet's head dropped
back down into her hands as she couldn't stand to watch anymore.
Red's eyes darted back and forth from the door to the quickly ascending
Krumble. "Now catch der money!" Grabbing the closest laundry bag, he
tossed it vertically into the air and then reached for the second as his
accomplice shoved the first aside. "Yah!" Red called, heaving the second
to him. "Git movin', i'll be right behind yer."
Turning with a hearty breath, the Irishmen glanced sideways to his
sister. He could have said something more, something to point out how
he'd done the job without her but he didn't. He knew she was posing as
some woman with money - he'd done it enough times with her - and figured
it would be easier on her if security didn't know they were familiar with
one another.
"Who are you talking to?" Loretta whispered to the Pikey woman laying
next to her on the floor. "Do you know those guys?"
Violet eyed the young teenager like a wild woman before checking her
accent. "Are you insane? Those jokers? I don't associate with the likes
of those two, especially a Ferengi and what's obviously a dirty Pikey who
can't even create and execute a decent plan! Pfft..." Halfheartedly lying
through her teeth, Violet turned her face and buried it in the crook of
her arm as the sounds around her began to validate what she knew was
going to happen.
=/\= =/\= =/\=
Taking careful aim, Gomez fired, and the lock melted under her blast.
Kicking the rest of the door open, because she liked doing that sort of
thing, she burst through with Sodov and Trotter close behind.
"Everyone get down," she yelled as she charged through.
"They are down," Sodov was still being helpful.
"Then all innocent people stay down, bad guys stand UP where I can see
you," Gomez decided that was the easiest way.
"YOU!" she yelled as she saw movement. "You! Stay still, get down, and
put your hands in the air."
Red leaped onto the rope once more as the bank doors burst open with a
crash. Swinging around as he attempted to scurry into the vents he lost
control and only kept swinging further in circles.
"Grab him" Gomez said to Trotter and Sodov, who trotted in the general
direction.
"I'm a good shot, don't try anything," she snapped as they approached an
obvious miscreant. At least, she supposed that anyone swinging on a rope
in the middle of a bank robbery was a miscreant. It might have been a
Tarzan-o-gram gone wrong, but that was probably being optimistic.
Through narrowed eyes and heavily breathing nostrils, Red still attempted
to climb the rope. But it wasn't working, it wasn't close to working and
with a heavy snap of the rope he fell to the bank's carpeted floor with a
shuddering whack.
"Cuff him," she said to Sodov, who immediately gave him a slap round the
head.
Red, half conscious, didn't notice the umanly, almost girly smack across
his noggin.
"Cuff as in handcuffs," she sighed. "Restraints. Little plasticky things
to stop people hitting back."
Looking to see where he had been trying to escape to, she motioned
Trotter, "Follow that rope."
"I can't climb, Gomez. I don't like heights."
Gritting her teeth, she made sure Sodov was covering the robber as she
turned to the general assembled. "Right. Someone want to tell me what
happened here?"
Violet slowly looked up from her position on the floor and met Red's
eyes. What could she say? She was mortified to see her brother as the
central character in a Keystone Cop's bumbling script. Hadn't he learned
anything from all of the jobs they had done? Violet gave Red a knowing
glance before bringing herself to her feet, pointing upward to the vent.
"It was the Ferengi who did the robbery. This guy here," Violet
redirected her point to her brother as she approached him with a spiteful
glare, "he's too stupid to pull of a bank heist. He was obviously used as
grunt work. That Ferengi is who you want." With her stinging words, she
ignorantly hoped that the security officers would move their focus off of
Red and let him off.
=/\= =/\= =/\=
Deep in the ventilation shafts of Starbase BoB, Krumble the failed
pickpocket and generally tweaked out scared of everything and everyone
Ferengi crawled towards the promenade laundry shoot with a grin on his
face. He'd done it, and better still he'd gotten away with all the loot.
He'd be able to buy a small ship and escape to wherever. Perhaps
somewhere far away, somewhere hidden where no Pikey's would come hunting
for their half of the dosh.
With an excited bounce he shuffled up to the laundry shoot and dangled
his legs over it's edge. And with a push and a, "Weeeeeee!" He dropped;
the two heavy bags of latinum right behind him.
=/\= Capital City - Planet Faylinn =/\=
Paxan and Drake walked along the stone road that wound through the small
capitol city. The weather around them was absolutely perfect with a warm
and fragrant breeze wafting through every now and then.
The sun shined down and Paxan inhaled the peacefulness as she walked,
even if she wasn't experiencing that peace inside.
Drake for his part walked along side her and listened as the scientist
ranted, "I mean can you believe he made Parvis Maru XO and me 2nd XO?"
she barked, "I mean...have you heard of anything more ridiculous?"
"Well, I don't really know this Maru fellow very well...so I'm not sure I
can comment on his qualifications for XO," said Drake diplomatically.
She blew air through her teeth frustratedly, "He's a buffoon!" she
barked, "Parvis Maru can't even manage his hair let alone the StarBase."
The marine chuckled out loud, "I'm surprised this has gotten you this
fired up. I thought you'd be happy to not have the added responsibility."
"This has nothing to do with responsibility or added work," she countered
as they approached a council office building in the center of the town
square, "How can I prove that I'm ready to excel if I'm overlooked for
people like Parvis?"
"I guess, I never realized how ambitious you were," noted Bastian.
Paxan looked at him and frowned, "Don't make it sound like that. I'm not
some power hungry harpy, I just want more out of life and I believe that
I can stretch myself and become better...regardless of my post. Being on
BoB doesn't mean I don't have goals."
Bastian nodded and smiled, "Point taken, Lieutenant," he said clearly
wanting to change the subject, "So...where exactly are we going now?"
Looking around the stony avenue, Paxan pointed towards the council
building in front of them, "Right here," she answered, "I'm going to see
if there are any local botanist that I can talk to...maybe get some
insight of some of the planet and animal life here. Perhaps get some
clues about what Faylinn is doing here."
Entering into the building, Paxan approached a desk and looked around.
From a back room an old Felim woman hobbled out and greeted the pair
kindly, "Oh...the visitors from the space station. What a pleasant
surprise!" she bleated as he saw Paxan and Drake.
Smiling kindly at the elderly lady, Paxan bowed her head slightly,
"Hello, there...My name is Paxan Brey. I'm a scientist and was given
permission to research some of the wildlife on your beautiful world."
"Yes, yes...I heard we might get some of your people here. What is it I
can do to help you, my young friend?"
Drake eyed the older Felim as Paxan continued, "I was hoping to talk to
someone who knows more about your planet's flora and fauna. Do you know
if there are any botanists or zoologists around here?"
"Ooh, as a matter of fact there is," she said happily, "You've come to
the right place. Merith is the one you want to talk too, for certain."
"Merith?" Paxan repeated.
"Did I hear my name?" said a voice suddenly and then another Felim woman
came from the back room appearing a little older than Paxan. She smiled
at both Paxan and Drake as she came around the desk, "Hello...I'm Merith.
Can I help you?"
Paxan Brey again related the short tale of who she was and what she
needed by way of an expert in the wildlife on Faylinn. Drake stood nearby
silently as he assessed the woman.
Merith nodded agreeably at Paxan's request, "Well, I would be happy to
talk to you for as long as you like. In fact, I have some time now and
would love to take you on a tour personally."
"That would be great," said Paxan before noticing the look that Merith
was giving Drake. It occurred to her that she'd not introduced the young
man and that she probably shouldn't admit that her captain had felt it
necessary to assign a bodyguard to her. "Oh, I almost forgot...allow me
to introduce my...assistant, this is Drake Bastian."
Drake looked from Merith to Paxan and back again. He smiled with
amusement at being suddenly relegated to science assistant in the wink of
an eye. "A pleasure to meet you ma'am," he said.
"Oh, please...call me Merith," said the female Felim, "Both of you, I
insist."
"As you wish," replied Paxan.
Merith smiled, "Very well then...shall we go?"
The trio all turned and left the stone building where they walked towards
a small gate that led into the open wooded area directly to the west of
the town. Merith looked towards Paxan as they left the city, "So, I heard
you say you had some questions for me about our planet's wildlife?"
"That's right," Paxan said, "Especially the insect life. When I tried to
take some insect specimens to our base for study, they all
arrived...well...dead. They didn't survive the trip which leads me to
believe they are incredibly delicate for insects."
Merith stopped in her tracks and looked at Paxan, "You took insects off
the surface?"
Brey was detecting Merith's change in mood and felt a little nervous,
"Um, well yeah. I did," she said quickly, "I hope that's alright." Paxan
began to worry that she had broken one of the Felim's rules of conduct.
She was imagining a terrible outcome to the faux pas.
"Actually, we ask that you not remove any creatures from our planet,"
said Merith with a smile, "Our eco-system is very fragile and we cannot
afford any imbalance to it."
Paxan paled, "I am so sorry then, I didn't know."
"It's alright, no harm was done," Merith said with a slight chuckle,
"Please, just respect our planet and do not take any more wildlife to
your station."
Brey nodded and smiled, "Ofcourse, perhaps I can study it here on the
planet. Will that be acceptable?"
"Ofcourse," said Merith happily as they now hiked a short distance into
the wooded area towards a bubbling stream, "I will show you some very
wondrous creatures now. They are incredibly interesting to observe."
Kneeling down at the stream with Paxan, Drake helped her pull back a
large rock on the river bank. Underneath were teeming with a vast variety
of night crawlers. Merith leaned in and grinned, "Ah, yes...see here a
very good example of our indigenous insect culture. Fascinating, isn't
it?"
Paxan's dual colored eyed darted around as she pulled out a tricorder and
scanned the plethora of insects under the rock, "Very," she agreed, "You
seem to really enjoy your work."
"I do, I really do," said Merith, "I've spent nearly my whole life
cataloguing and archiving the animal species in the area. This one for
instance is called Orphinate Collincluii," she said as she lifted a wormlike creature with at least fifty wiggling legs.
Drake's handsome face was a blend of disgust and boredom as he poked the
damp soil with his fingers, "What about the plant life on Faylinn.
Anything special about it?"
Merith laughed heartily, "Oh, Mr. Bastian...there are wonderfully special
things about the plant life on Faylinn. Too many in fact to show you in
one afternoon," she said with much amusement, "Later on I will show you
some interesting samples of our native plants."
"I meant no disrespect, Merith" said Drake quickly.
"Of course you didn't," said Merith, "Don't worry about it. Anyway,
please, spend as much time as you need and enjoy our world." The Felim
woman was standing now and dusting off her legs.
"You're leaving?"
She smiled down at them, "I need to get back and do a few things but
please come back if you have any questions or need another tour. I'd be
more than happy to arrange anything you need."
Paxan Brey and Drake Bastian smiled appreciatively as Merith turned and
started hiking back to the town. After a brief discussion on the
helpfulness and kindness shown to them, Paxan began the study of
Faylinn's wildlife.
"Malignant Presence"
=/\= In orbit above Argellius =/\=
The shuttle's comm channel stuttered and crackled on the console. Ron
dropped his feet from where he'd been resting them, and gave the small
speaker a smack with the palm of his hand. He grinned at Mulder next to
him. "That seemed familiar."
"Hey, it's gotten us here in one piece." She protested with loyalty
towards her ugly little shuttle. "It's done very well."
"Why don't you answer them, then?"
"I like taunting anonymous clerks," came the flip reply. Underneath, she
realized that she had indeed hesitated, but didn't want to investigate
why too much. "Keeps 'em on their toes," she gave a sardonic smile.
"Unknown shuttle, this is Argellius space control. Identify yourselves."
The voice was clipped with precision - and was obviously irritated to
boot.
"This is the Shuttle Knightmare, registered with the Jaz'Aarian Space
Fleet, attached to the Federation Starbase BoB. I am Starfleet Captain
Mulder, and I bring Lord Ranag Jerillion, citizen of Argellius, to his
homeworld on urgent and grave personal matters." It was quite a mouthful
and she hoped she'd covered all bases. Just in case not, she added, "And
this shuttle isn't feeling to well, go hurry it up there or we might well
drop right through your ceiling any minute now."
"Hold, please." There was a silence perpetuated by sharp crackles and
pops overlaid on the hum of the solar winds.
Rapping her fingers lightly on the helm control panel, she said casually,
"Shall we lay bets as to how long it'll take to process us. My money's on
a chain of three managers, each more senior, and a request for us to go
into a holding pattern."
"Er. ah. shuttle Knightmare - please be advised that the traffic pattern
is cleared, and you are primary descent path to landing pad Alpha One,
with full authorization." The voice was now rattled and shaky, as if even
speaking to them was filling the man with fear.
"Weeeellll," Mulder drew the syllables out with an ironic grin, "Sounds a
little more helpful than your average traffic control clerk. I reckon I'd
have lost my bet."
"Sounds like they know who is coming. Alpha One is the pad my Grandfather
uses in the capital." Ron frowned, unhappy with the conversation. "So
much for arriving anonymously."
"Eh, if you've got it, flaunt it." Mulder gave a cheerful shrug. "If you
want to be a socialist, fine by me - but remember we'll be stuck in a
lousy air traffic jam if we don't queue-jump. Want to take what's on
offer, for now? Your call."
"Yeah, go ahead." He gestured out the window at the planet surface ahead
of him. "If we don't, they'll bring out the entire Planetary Force to
search for the wreckage."
The shuttle spun lazily on its axis, aligning itself with the given
parameters. Ron smiled as he watched Caz's hands, relaxed and sure,
perform a graceful ballet across the control board. Soon enough, the
shuttle slipped through the thin ionosphere, and began to buck against
the currents of wind as it sped down towards the ground.
Soon, the sky gave way to a deep, piercing purplish-blue that would seem
almost nighttime - if it weren't for the sun coming across the horizon
towards them. Ron leaned forward and to his right, peering out the side
of the shuttle, eyes searching as he looked for the place he'd once
called home.
Mulder received more instructions from below, and competently executed
the series of manoeuvres to bring them on-course for landing. She left
Ron to his ruminations and reflections as she concentrated on lining up
the clunky shuttle to the right incoming angle to be picked up by the
cross-hatch of sensory tractor beams, which would activate as she glided
down and bring them carefully in.
Ron leaned forward, eyes scanning the ground in front of him. The part
that had been dreading the reunion was now pushed back in excitement as
the capital city of Sporta. He could catch the sunlight glinting off the
towers that composed the Halls of the Elders. The shuttle nosed around
the city, worming it's way into the traffic pattern. Soon, the buildings
rose up above them, as the craft eased itself gently onto the landing
area, marked by scrolling strobe lights that met under the shuttle.
Powering down systems, Mulder gave a quiet sigh. Phase one complete. Up
until now, it had been possible to convince herself that this was just a
trip, a holiday, a break, and keep the tragic circumstances away from the
front of her mind. Now they were here, and the full force of the tragedy
was about to engulf them. She shot a troubled look towards Ron.
Ron sat stock still, feeling almost paralyzed in fear. His throat felt as
though it was swelling - he couldn't seem to breathe. He could almost
*feel* the man out there - a presence, a pressure that pressed down on
him as though a weight had settled over his entire body, crushing him
into the chair he sat upon.
"You okay?"
"Yes." he breathed out, forcing the words from his lips with great
effort.
"Wrong answer. Let's try it again. You okay?" the words were firm, the
tone incredibly tender.
He turned to look at her, catching her worried gaze with his eyes. The
look on her face, the very warmth and concern that spilled from her,
galvanized him. Her eyes, warm and full of emotions that he couldn't
quite put words to filled him with a peace he hadn't felt in some time.
Holding out a hand to her, he smiled - for the first time a long, long
time, it was a smile he could really say he meant.
Able to read his body language as easily and clearly as if he'd spoken
aloud, she reached over and took his hand in hers. "We can always turn
round and fly the hell back out of here right now, if you don't want to
do this," she spoke lightly, but there was an undercurrent of intent in
her words.
"No. No, I'm all right, as long as you'll stay close with me."
"Yeah, like I'm *really * going to run off and leave you in the lurch.
You doofus," she gave his hand an affectionate squeeze. "C'mon then, get
it off your chest before we step outside. Given the circumstances, I
reckon they won't be hustling us through baggage control any time yet
until *we * are ready. It's. your grandfather isn't it?" she hazarded,
based on the few facts he'd already supplied. "It's the thought of facing
him again after all this time."
Ron sighed, and looked down to study the toes of his boots. "This was a
man who was supposed to be my male role model - my father figure. But
instead, I was a commodity to him; a valued bargaining chip, or an
opportunity to be developed, as if I were some kind of property." He
glanced up at her, then at the airlock to the rear. "I don't even know if
the man *has* any love, except for that of position and power. But as
soon as I step out of that airlock, I'll be the lost child returned, the
Prodigal come home. And I'm *not* - I refuse to be that, to take that
role again. I won't be that man's power play, Mulder. I won't."
"No, you won't" she reinforced his statement. "You never were, Ron. You
stopped any attempt to make it so the day you ran away and left him to
wallow in his own foulness. YOU are the man here, you are a successful
and highly decorated warrior and doctor. He has no claim over you. None."
He pushed himself out of the chair, still holding her hand - clenching it
in his own as if it were his only lifeline to sanity. "But understand -
he is *still* an authority figure from my past - one ingrained deeply in
my mind. I've got to fight that - and he *knows* it. And Ilisisone
Jerillion will take every advantage to use that in his favor and against
me." He looked at her, squeezed her hand and then released it. "And you
being beside me will be what reminds me of the *real* life I have now. So
stay close, eh?"
"Always," the word was whispered so lightly she almost only mouthed it,
but inside the small cabin it was amplified, and seemed, for a second, to
bring a feeling of calm and resolve to them both.
"Superstar"
=/\= Sporta, Capital City - Argellius =/\=
"Right. Deep breath and." Ron cycled open the airlock.
Outside a brilliant barrage of flashes near-blinded them as they stepped
out. When his vision returned, they could finally see what was happening.
In the air, darting about like agitated wasps, hovering cameras swooped
in the air.
She could make out at least one from the Federation News Service, and
doubtless that meant that SS&U would be piggybacking their own satellites
onto the event. Still, if the FNS were broadcasting, that would mean
she'd be saved the bother of sending a postcard back to BoB to say they'd
arrived safe...
In parallel lines facing each other in immaculate deep purple fatigues
trimmed with golden bronze was the House Jerillion Sha'aliir, the elite
guard of a House Major. Although in the current day and age, they were
considered mostly ceremonial, each one was trained with the equivalent of
Starfleet Marines. Quite literally, the carpet beneath their feet was
crimson, leading to a waiting party at the end, resplendent in goldtrimmed white uniforms, quasi-military in their own cut and shape.
"Holy Shit," Mulder exclaimed, wide-eyed and open-jawed. "Now that's what
I *call* a homecoming. Well, whaddya know, I'm dating the most popular
guy on the planet." She suddenly had the absurd impulse to run back
inside the shuttle and change into something black. With shades. And an
earpiece to mutter into. Raising an eyebrow she gave Ron a look that was
half amused, half encouraging. "C'mon then, it's your show. Give 'em what
they want. Go for it."
Ron nodded, and began to step forward, measured paces that fit the feel
of the ceremonial airs around them. But ahead, a short, rotund figure
broke away from the awaiting group ahead of them, and half-sauntered,
half-trotted towards them. A grin split his fair-skinned face, flashing
white teeth as he opened his arms wide to gather Ron in a hug as they met
in the middle of the carpet.
"Ron! My only grandson! My boy!" He threw himself at Ron, wrapping his
arms around the surprised doctor, and squeezed him tight. Ron stood for a
moment in shock, hands held away from his body as if not certain what to
do. Then, slowly, he draped his arms around his grandfather, and left
them there until he was released.
If it hadn't been for the body language she observed, almost screaming
Ron's initial reluctance, the scene would have been almost funny. The
newcomer barely reached Ron's ribcage, and presented the appearance of an
egg on legs, being rotund round the middle and shiny bald on top. The
only hair in any quantity was presented in a beard that came down to his
collarbones. *He sure doesn't get his good looks from his father's side,
then.* she mused sardonically, as she made a small movement closer to
Ron, both to register her presence and to break up the awkward tableau.
Turning to Mulder, the man clopped his heels to attention, placed a flat
palm across his chest, and bowed deeply to her. "My lady. Allow me to
introduce myself. I am Ilisisone A'altebrin Jerillion, Lord of the House
Major Jerillion. All that I own is at your service."
Not to be outdone in the nobility stakes, Mulder made an equally formal
Aarian salute, fingers of the right hand brought up to touch the center
of the forehead, then the arm brought down, palm upwards, to chest level.
"I am Mulder, First Daughter of Sir Reuben Mulder, Duke of Mansfield, of
Earth." * Only daughter actually, but who's counting?* "Also Commanding
Officer of Starfleet's Starbase Bee-oh-bee" she made the initials sound
important and enigmatic. Simply saying 'BoB' sounded *way* too silly. "I
am honored to make your acquaintance." *Thanks for the etiquette lessons,
Pa*.
He smiled and nodded, eyes twinkling, and wrapped his arm around Ron's
waist. "Come! Come, my son - we have prepared a feast in honor of your
return to House Jerillion. Many, many people have come to Sporta to
celebrate your return."
Ron flinched slightly at his touch, but nodded gravely. "Grandfather, I
have come in honor of my mother. I have not returned-"
Ilisisone flapped a hand in the air, as if to bat away some irritating
insect as he interrupted. "Yes, yes. Plenty of time to address that,
Ranag. Yes, a somber, sober time - but first, let us celebrate the return
of the future of House Jerillion!"
A roar went up from the crowd, as Ron was practically drug
grandfather into the group of pristinely dressed servitors
members, and then carried along through the paved entrance
Hall. Ron turned his head, trying to catch sight of Mulder
she entered - frowning at her place in the whole madhouse,
nonetheless to see her behind him.
along by his
and Houseinto the Great
just before
but happy
Mulder had resumed staring at the crowds and muttered quietly, in an
attempt to lighten the atmosphere, "Hey, we could clean up here. If
they're so wild to see you, what say we dive back into the shuttle and
head off back to BoB, just leaving them directions to the base. Yeah,
screw it, let's go for it, yeah?"
Still chattering away she pressed on, "Then, when they all troop in to
see the prodigal son, we set that Horta up on the infirmary door and
charge a bar of gold pressed latinum a peek. That, plus the commission
from selling souvenir Ron mugs and T-shirts, ought to give us enough to
*buy* Starbase BoB off Starfleet and turn it into our own floating gin
palace. What d'you reckon, Ron...Ron?" she realized that she was talking
to thin air, and the leading man in this drama had been swept away from
her side.
She caught his glance over the heads of the crows surrounding him, and
gave a rueful grin as she rolled her eyes. "Catch you later, superstar,"
she gave him a thumbs-up and allowed herself in turn to be swept along
behind.
Once Ron's attention was drawn away again, a more thoughtful look
appeared on her face. For a funeral, and time of national sorrowing - one
would presume - things had a decidedly festive air. Maybe it was just the
Argellians way, to cover sadness with a veneer of festivity, after all
she knew little of their more general customs. But Ron hadn't been
expecting this.show. Yes, it was a show, she decided. Lots of glitz and
glamour, like a stage magician's act.
The thoughtful look continued as she entered the vast Hall. That was the
thing with magician's acts - you always knew, deep down, that they were
trying to deflect your attention from the mechanics of the trick. But
what trick could possibly be involved here? And why?
Since there was nothing practical she could do at that moment, and
because she was well aware that these thoughts could be no more than the
effect of her suspicious nature, she resolved to simply observe, and
note, for the time being. All the same, it was with a vague sense of
disquiet that she allowed herself to be led to a seat as the feast began.
=/\= Bridge - USS Caledonia =/\=
McArnh tried once again to patch a comm through to BoB. He knew it was
personal business, but by now he was beyond caring.
The system came back with the crackling static of Gertrude doing what the
crew was used to as her best, with the inevitable negative chirrup that
sounded like laughter at the end. He leant back in his chair and covered
the small panel with his hand.
He gave himself a few minutes of musing about Adevian, how much he missed
the man and longed for the unique company and love that appeared in their
midsts together, before reaching for a padd.
The padd wasn't there. He sighed. He had wondered, at the time, whether
it was wise to give Crewman Farlak bridge duty to do.
"Mister Farlak, my padd please."
The Quartermaster scurried over. "Sorry about that. I was cleaning up."
"I'm sure you were," McArnh mumbled. "I take it all of our incoming items
have been inventories properly?"
"They're all nicely shelved in the stock room, Commander. Including the
fifty spare fire notices we were given. Although," Farlak approached with
a girly cough, "I think they may have been outsourced, or possibly be
reject stock."
A raised eyebrow surfaced. "In what way, Crewman?"
"Well." Farlak dug out a padd from an improbable hiding place. "There is
one rather obvious one that has been mistranslated. 'It is forbidden to
smoke, except where it is allowed.'"
McArnh coughed. "A wise but not entirely practical piece of advice. Any
others?"
"Ah yes. In case of fire, this one. 'Attack the centre of fire with the
fire entinguishers without exposing yourself.'"
"One rather does hope that the crew will be able to live up to that one,"
came the musing back. "Very well. Do with them as you see fit."
"Yes, Commander." Farlak nodded, and then remained rooted to the spot,
his eyes fixed on a spot some way behind McArnh.
"Something wrong, Crewman?" Grey asked, without turning.
"Slug! There's a slug over there, on the turbolift doors!" Farlak
squawked, flailing a finger which the Commander ducked to avoid.
"Do calm down. You are most certainly hallucinating." But unable not to
look, Grey turned and glanced over his shoulder. There, most certainly,
on the aforementioned doors was one of Terra's most irritating and
persistent pests. He had never seen the point of their life cycle, and
was even less amused to have them roaming his vessel.
"I hear that Terrans enjoy despatching them. Something to do with that
strange compound they put on food. Salt, that's it." McArnh turned around
from it. If that was the best this mission could throw at them, he wasn't
overly concerned.
"Right," Farlak murmured to himself, by way of acknowledging orders.
"Fetch Terrans to kill slugs. Should I tell all other crew to remain in
their quarters?"
McArnh scratched at his temple, which wasn't itchy. "No, Crewman, I'm
sure that the non-human crew will adapt perfectly well to their presence.
They are less of a pest than, say, 8472 or the Ferengi."
Farlak thought for a moment. "So I'll just tell Ensign Zim to stay in his
quarters, then," he said, with commanding enthusiasm.
The Commander's back felt suddenly creaky. "No, Crewman, the slugs will
not stop the crew functioning. Stick to the stock, and acquainting
yourself with the secondary consoles."
"Yes, sir!"
Grey felt a guilty but overwhelming sense of relief as the Quartermaster
tottered off to resurvey the panels, determining what - if anything would need cosmetic upgrading. Perhaps it would increase morale, he mused
to himself, glancing at the viewscreen. It would certainly give Monkfish
something to do on a rainy day.
The Caledonia would arrive at the Zanzibar in six hours' time. The bridge
was suspiciously quiet, only the banter of pilots really interrupting it.
He stretched in the chair as Farlak electrocuted himself on something
briefly. Suicide Cat jumped on his lap, recently mauled by a rapid
descent through a turbolift shaft. It purred loudly, like an electric
razor on the verge of breaking.
McArnh yawned and settled down to some paperwork.
=/\= Bar - USS Caledonia =/\=
McArnh double-checked the last-minute whisky order that sat occupying the
ante-room of his quarters. He rarely used the sofa anyway, opting usually
for the bar, so that it was piled high with whisky like the rest of his
room was no great loss. Instead, he had donated a bottle to the bar, and
then poured himself a liberal measure.
It was safe. He had employed the best encryption routines to safe-guard
his quarters doors from being opened by anybody, Yeoman included. He
forced himself to put the padd down and read the latest memos before Zim
arrived.
He leant back in his chair, the memos swiftly landing next to him. Ensign
Zim. An old-hand Caledonian that had never quite been able to stay away.
He supped more on the whisky.
Zim had been putting this off for a while now, the reporting in for duty.
He wasn't sure what the reaction would be so he had done just about
everything else he could think of before reporting in.
He entered and stood to attention, "Sir."
"Zim." McArnh didn't stand up, but leant a hand over informally. "Welcome
back."
He relaxed and took the hand with a grin, "Thanks, it's actually quite
nice to be back."
Zim's smile faded for a moment, "Although I'm a bit shocked starfleet
felt the need to retrain me."
"Yes, I too am surprised to notice your change in vocation. I had no idea
that the Caledonia had a clinic to manage, unless our new doctor is
anything to go by. Have you met Miss Sovanae, by the way?"
"Oh yes..." Nodded Zim. He decided to keep the medical plans schtum for a
while. "She's seems more than up to the job. Which is more than I can say
for myself. I'm not really sure what I'm supposed to do."
"Well, you've been here often enough. I'm sure you'll work out what to
do." This sounded more like a statement than any sentiment of reassuring.
"Get a drink, I'll buy the first one." McArnh nodded for the holo-waiter
to appraoch.
"Thanks...Tequila please." Zim took a seat as a liberal shot of the stuff
was poured. He then struggled to think of the standard toast, "Cheers?"
"Cheers indeed." Grey tipped the glass in the other man's direction.
Zim slugged back the drink and started watering at the eyes. "So...ahem,
what did I miss? Did we become gods to any bizarre cultures again? Or did
something much more shocking happen, like a full refit and a new pilot?"
Zim glanced at the barman and gave him the none-so-subtle nod to refill
their drinks.
"Nothing so likely," Grey murmured. "Let's see. Attack by children, a
brief visit from the Mirror Universe and 8472, a raging female hormone
virus... nothing too into the ordinary. And the pilot is still the same."
"I thought I recognised the stomach churning rolls and break neck speeds
earlier." sighed Zim. He sipped the drink this time. It was doing nothing
to settle his stomach and he didn't want to drink too much. It was a
slippery slope that he'd been down before.
"Yes, Miss Lamarr did give the new crew something of an introduction.
They seem made of sterner, or much more naive stuff this time around." It
was a bland statement. McArnh supped his whisky. "However, we do have a
barman. Or rather, we did. He was quite good, actually. No idea where
he's gone."
"A new bar man..." repeated Zim with a nod, "What about new er, drink
supplies?" His lobes started tingling. There was potential profit around.
"I did, indeed, order the bar some new stock at Raven. Alas for the
furniture, it is still the dangerous lower-level pick-and-mix it always
was. But the alcoholic range has increased marvellously."
It was true. There were several more shiny bottles at the bar's racks,
perfectly out of place. He was wondering about renovating the shelving
when he had a moment.
"Erm I have a private supply of a rather..." Fine? No. Smooth? No.
Delicate? NO. Abrasive? Yeah..."...Powerful spirit. I'd be willing to
donate a bottle or two. Anymore that was wanted after that I'd be willing
to supply at a special Caledonia price."
For a moment Zim wished he'd filled his hip flask with it so he could
give Grey a sample. But it was probably better that it was safely stored
elsewhere. The combination of Hooch fumes and the fumes from the bar
would probably overpower them both.
"A donation would be most welcomed, as always. I will, of course, have to
taste it before agreeing to purchase any. How much did you say?"
"Much cheaper than you'd be able to get on the likes of Raven." assured
Zim.
"I can't help but wonder from where you have acquired it. You know, it
does make me think that, with the amount of drink we get through on the
Caledonia, if it wouldn't be worth setting up a brewery." Grey shrugged.
"A pipe dream, perhaps. I shall taste this liquor and then see if we can
come to an arrangement."
Zim laughed nervously. A brewery? He wouldn't be able to corner the
market like that. There'd be shares and splits, plus the likes of Grey
(and Zim himself if he was honest) would probably drink the profit away.
"I'll have a sample sent to you soon. But be careful, try to keep it away
from naked flames."
He drained his glass and smacked his lips. "Well I'd best get back to
work. We seem to be missing a few chairs and sickbay's lights only seem
to work when most of the biobeds are switched off."
"Sounds about right," McArnh nodded. "Well, you know the drill. I shall
leave you to it, Ensign. And I am most interested to receive the product
of our other transaction."
Zim got up and left, and Grey ordered a very speedy refill before
returning to his padds, which balanced in a hastily-arranged stack next
to him. As the glass landed promptly in his left hand, he rather hoped
the mission stayed this way. It was most easy-going.
=/\= Fed Bank Sub-branch - Lower Promenade - Starbase BoB =/\=
Gigi Gomez as overwhelmed by the clatter and protests of the bank's
customers and wished she was anywhere but there.
Having sent the alleged robber off to the brig in Sodov and Trotter's
tender care, she started taking a few statements, but found herself on
the sharp end of complaints for reassurances about security and everyone
trying to claim compensation for their traumatic experiences. The Bank
manager wasn't much help, and didn't even seem very eager to press
charges at this point.
So she decided to do what any self-respecting BoB security guard would do
- pass the buck.
"Ladies and gentlemen, one moment please," she held up a hand and moved
away from the rabble. "I will sort this. You shall have satisfaction."
They fell expectantly quiet.
First though was to report in - and she knew full well the station was
under a new command, so what better way to welcome the new CO to the job
than a good robbery? Now Major Vaughan was El Hombre, she would report to
him. Besides, she rather fancied the hot-shot Marine CO...
"Security to the CO. Sir, this is Crewman Gigi Gomez. There's been an
attempted robbery at the Fed Bank and one of the suspects is in the Brig.
You might want to interview him. There is also, apparently, a Ferengi
accomplice on the loose. I'm sending a message to the Security Chief for
to keep an eye out for him. Gomez out."
She then sent a message to Baxter and the rest of her department, with a
description of the footloose felon. "Short, Ferengi, probably carrying
stolen loot."
But that still left the question of the complaining customers...
They had a new XO and 2XO too, didn't they? And the 2XO was a scientist,
and they were supposed to be smart. She could offload the problem onto
someone with brains, and consider her duty done.
"People, listen up. If you go and find Lieutenant Paxan Brey, and make
your complaints to her, I'm sure she'll be able to reassure you and
satisfy your worries. She's an Officer, and that's what they do. Now, if
you go find her and form an orderly queue, she'll be happy to see you."
That might have been
testing it out. They
and she was going to
on a beach somewhere
an exaggeration, but Gomez wasn't planning on
could explain themselves. her duty shift was over
try and find a spot on the next shuttle out to lie
for the next four hours.
"Overstuffed"
=/\= Argellius =/\=
Tossing his dress uniform jacket onto the monstrous bed, Ron flopped into
a large overstuffed chair with a groan. "I think I've eaten half of the
total import of Argellius." he moaned as his feet landed on a chest that
was meticulously inlaid with various metals and gems.
"And the other half of the export stock appears to be stored in this
room," Mulder looked about her as she lowered herself onto a huge couch
that nearly swallowed her up.
Ron nodded, and gazed about the room. The entire room was nearly the size
of a shuttle bay, with a living and sitting room at one end of the
expanse, complete with an ancient but still-working fireplace, separated
by a sliding silk screen that hid a spectacular bedroom, centered around
a bed large enough to sleep six people comfortably. It dominated the
space from its raised pedestal, towering posts holding yard upon yard of
heavy, thick silk-like material. "It's supposed to be overawing - but
it's just gaudy, if you ask me."
Mulder was quiet for a moment, and then observed, "It does seem more for
show than comfort. Not the sort of place you invite the gang round for a
few jars and a game of poker. But hey, isn't there an old Terran phrase
about not looking a gift horse in the mouth? It's not as if we're going
to be given a bill." she sank back and stretched out, easing the
fastening of her waistband - having eaten her fair share and more of the
incredible array of foodstuffs that had been placed before then in a
seemingly never-ending succession of courses.
Smothering a small belch, Ron forced himself upward to grab a boot and
tug it off.
Shifting even further into the comfortable contours of the couch, Mulder
fixed Ron with a small frown. "By the way, My *Lord*," she gave the word
ironic emphasis, "You and I nearly came to blows back there. At least,
*I* had to suppress the urge to kick your ass. What was all that *fuss*
about over the seating arrangements?"
The other boot flew from his hands as he looked up, surprised. "What? You
were sitting three tables down from me - you should've been sitting at my
right hand." He frowned, irritated at the whole turn of events.
"Grandfather is testing me. he's looking to see how I will react, whether
I will give in or not. Hell - I *should've* slugged somebody right then
and there! *That* would've shown them *exactly* how I felt about it."
"Nonsense!" she declared, the little smile in her eyes indicating that
she wasn't *too* displeased. "How could they know I was your.erm.escort
and bodyguard? They obviously thought I was some bit of fluff - classy
fluff, I grant you - but arm-candy all the same. Certainly not worthy to
take my place on the high table. It's not as if I *minded*," she recalled
the scene, and shook her head, "Besides which, I can always keep my eyes
peeled a lot better when not the focus of attention myself."
Yet, even as she was saying the words, the vague sense of disquiet that
had beset her before emerged again. She *had* introduced herself
properly, and purposefully, so her status as off-world nobility, not to
mention Starfleet rank - was clearly established. Maybe they didn't feel
it "proper" for a bodyguard, no matter of what status, to sit at a high
table. Or maybe they didn't believe her. Or maybe they just didn't want a
nosy 'Fleeter hanging around...she shook her head, impatiently this time.
"It's not *right*!" he growled at her. "That bastard! He welcomes me
back, but tries to make me look weak in front of everyone. He's trying to
put me under his thumb. I won't have it. " Ron shoved himself out of his
chair, and stalked over to the window. He raised a fist to slam it on the
sill, but held it instead, forcing himself into calm. "De'gai Mae'lsh.
Teurana wil'dlai me'ehina-eme."
"Are you having a sneezing fit, or is that supposed to mean something?"
she tried to lighten his mood.
The frown lifted slightly. "Sorry. It's a ritual phrase. 'I will be still
and deep, as the waters upon the face of the land.' It's what I should've
said to Grandfather. It would've let him know he wasn't bothering me, and
it would have forced the Ceremony of Intertwining sooner." He tweaked a
slightly maudlin grin. "Look at me. Been home for eight hours, and
already, I'm speaking the native tongue again."
Wanting to pick her words carefully, and feeling desperately tired, she
let a comfortable silence hang for a few moments before she started.
"Ron, I think I need to know a bit more about Argellian customs if I'm to
get through this without any faux-pas. Explain to me how it works - the
whole thing behind Argellian funerals. Everyone seemed more interested in
celebrating your homecoming than anything else - I didn't hear a word
spoken about.your mother.all evening." She inwardly winced, not wanting
to say anything to cause Ron pain, but at the same time needing to bring
the subject up.
"I don't want to say the wrong thing, or enquire why no-one seems to be
paying much heed to the fact that there is a major funeral to happen very
shortly, if it's simply the custom of your people *not* to be in
mourning."
"Mmmm. I can see where that would be an issue. Well." Ron paused as the
thought caught up with him. "Well. I have to admit that it is a bit
strange. but not uncommon, I suppose. Typically, after all the family and
those either attached to the House, or committed to it in other ways,
there is a Feast of Welcome - what we just had, I suppose, was it. But it
seemed. different, somehow, y'know? Usually, the Feast is a very somber
event."
"Tell me about it," she cupped her chin in her hand, "The more
information I have, the better."
"There will be two days and two nights in which to see the body, and make
peace with whatever you need to deal with. After that time, the body will
be shrouded, and brought into the Burial Chamber. There, all will gather,
and watch as her body is incinerated, and her spirit is released to the
Creator. After that, another Feast - the Fest of Remembrance." He paused,
trying for a reference. "Think of it as the old Terran Irish Wake. Then,
it's off to business as normal. Usually, it's the time in which new
relations are solidified, and the cronies do all their behind-the-doors
dealings. Of course, *that* isn't an official part of the ceremonies,
though."
She digested that for a moment, and then spoke again, hesitantly but
insistently, "Did it all strike you as a bit odd, then? Or was the whole
thing so dazzling that you were just swept along with it all?"
"Hm." Finger to mouth, Ron leaned against the windowsill, his mind
churning over her words. "...maybe. I. don't know, Mulder. I really
don't. Remember - the last time I was on this planet was over sixteen
years ago."
"Mmmm," she looked at him meaningfully, "Y'know.this could all be just me
wandering off into laa-laa land, but, something just seemed a bit offkilter. And I've no real grounds for feeling this way. So, maybe I ought
to just shut the Hell up and get some sleep." The large bed *did* seem
inviting as the tiredness started making her eyelids droop. "Blame it on
that course of rather odd-looking animal extremities, if you like," she
grinned and held out a hand. "C'mon. Let's go crash out. There's room
enough for both of us on that bed *and* the Terran Football Team as well.
not that I'm inclined to share," she chuckled. "A decent night's sleep
will probably make *all* the difference."
"Yeah." He eyed the bed for a moment. "Actually, you go ahead. I'm gonna
go for a walk."
=/\= Ops - Starbase BoB =/\=
Lieutenant Maru, Executive Officer? Parvis Maru, Number One? So many
options, and just one office door to have printed with his new title.
Parvis grinned widely.
Giggling under his breath, he paced back and forth as he took in the
grandeur of his Ops floor. All the somewhat-shiny panels, the semi-alert
crew at his command, so many interesting buttons to activate!
He stopped pacing and wrung his hands together. He listened to the voice
from atop his head. He muttered quietly in the corner of Ops, out of
earshot of the crew. "That's right, Harold, we are a heartbeat from the
throne!"
"Now calm down, Harold. We need to consider this. We must only use our
First Officer powers for good." He began to pace again, thinking. "For
now, anyway."
"What can we do to make the station a better place? Something to make our
mark with. Something to endear ourselves to all the little people."
Parvis stopped pacing. "What are the concerns of the people of the
station? What are anyone's primary concerns? Safety! We must do something
to enhance the safety of the station, Harold!"
"I have it!" Parvis shouted loudly and spun about to approach the main
comms panel.
"Computer! Record new orders from the Acting First Officer, Parvis Maru!
For distribution to the heads of Security, Operations, The BoBcats and
the Marine contingent. Also, kindly send a courtesy copy to the rest of
the department heads."
"Ready." The computer dryly stated.
"Text begins now," Parvis ordered. The computer bleeped obligingly,
prepared to transcribe his words.
"New orders for the safety and security of Starbase BoB are as follows.
Order number one!" Parvis pounded a fist on the console. "The individual
known as Mitsuko is hereby banned from Starbase BoB! She was a recent
detainee in our brig, and is in the employ of one Miss Emma Finn and
makes her home on the starship Janus. If Mitsuko is found anywhere on
Starbase BoB, she is to be detained and incarcerated immediately. She is
to be considered armed and very dangerous, do not hesitate to use any
level of force necessary for her detention."
Parvis was rocking back and forth on his feet now, energized.
"Order number two! To ensure the safety of the station's command staff, a
bodyguard shall be assigned to me, correct that, to all three senior
command officers, with instructions to specifically guard against Mitsuko
attacks, round the clock! Correction, make that two bodyguards for each,
drawn from the security and marine contingents, for each of the three
senior command officers: Vaughn, Maru and Brey. Yes, that will do
nicely."
Parvis stood back a bit, thinking. Yes, having bodyguards for all of them
would neatly cover his own self-interest. He ignored the curious looks
from the crew around him. Then he struck again.
"Order number three! Security and Operations shall scan all incoming
ships for evidence of tractors or tractor components in transit. Any such
items, and any large farming devices, shall be subject to mandatory
confiscation and immediate destruction by Qualified Starbase BoB
Personnel. Security shall research and publish for all hands Farming
Implement Recognition Protocols and provide training accordingly. Medical
shall set up a special ward for the treatment of farming implementrelated wounds and injuries."
"Computer, end text." Parvis panted as he scanned the orders, confirming
that it conveyed his intent in a succinct and professional manner.
"Computer, amend addressing of these orders, to include a courtesy copy
for the owner of the civilian starship Janus."
"Yes, this will do nicely. Computer, transmit orders."
Parvis hopped up and down in the middle of the Ops floor, waving his
little blue fists in the air, shouting at the crew around him.
"Make it so! Make it all so!"
=/\= Engineering - Starbase BoB =/\=
Lt. Baxter Mattingly stood just outside the door of engineering with his
arms full of items. A tamar stood at his feet carrying a basket in his
teeth. The doors slid open and Baxter and MacDougal entered the environs
of engineers and headed directly to the chief's office. He kicked the
door by way of a knock.
Yus jumped. The knock sounded like a bull that had more than one point of
contention with the door. "Who's that?" she mumbled crossly.
"It's me Babe," Baxter said. "Open up the door, please. My hands are full
and MacDougal can't get it either."
Yus had her hands full, *and* her mouth as well (with a conduit washer,
not chocolate). "What can you not get? Have you been cast by a spell?"
she mumbled.
"Of course I can get things," Baxter said. "My hands are full. I can't
open the door."
Yus frowned. "But the door's automatic." She'd spit out the washer by
then.
"Automatic?" Baxter asked. "Not for me. The computer hates me."
"Ah." It made sense. She went over to the door and it opened immediately
upon detecting her access code. She planted a kiss on his cheek before
stepping aside to let him and his things in. He was a pain but she loved
him.
Baxter walked in and put the items down in front of her on the desk. They
were a bottle of champagne, a box of chocolates, a large bunch of flowers
in a vase and a small box that could only be jewelry. Then he bent down
and handed her the basket. The cover over the basket was moving slightly.
"Surprise!" Baxter said.
"Oh no!" Omar said faintly.
MacDougal, relieved of his basket, began sniffing around for Nameless.
Nameless, intrigued by the contents of the basket, ignored MacDougal and
peeked behind Yus' legs.
"Oh no?" Baxter asked. "Babe, open the box. These are but small tokens of
my love. What's to worry about?"
"I'm truly afraid of your surprises, Baxter," Yus confessed.
"But I got them just for you," Baxter said. He also handed her the
basket. "This won't wait."
"Fine, I'll open it." She relented and gingerly pulled behind the cover.
Under the cover was a very small animal with lots of fur, big green eyes
and sharp claws. Both tamars looked at it and stepped back slightly.
"It's a limerick," Baxter said. "My cousins sent it. It's a traditional
wedding present. You'll have to take it. I don't think it fits in my
room."
"Goodness me," said Yus fighting the urge to cuddle the little limerick
by thinking of the trouble Nameless and MacDougal were capable of.
The little ball of fur was purring. MacDougal was trying to hide behind
Nameless.
For once the two tamars were united in their oneness. The newcomer was
viewed with caution.
Baxter also revealed a diamond and emerald pin in the shape of an
engineering insignia and then said, "You know this pleasure planet nearby
...well...I got a brochure from them about weddings and we could get
married there. Why don't we go planet-side and check out some of the
landscapes available. What do you say, Babe?"
"That's a great idea," Yus replied, thoughts of work immeditely vanishing
from her mind.
The little ball of fur swatted at Yus with a tiny claw. "Down, Cherub,"
Baxter said.
Yus melted as she kneeled down and stroked the limey. "Aww. She's such a
little angel," she gushed, though it was a lie. Cherub showed promising
signs of making Nameless and MacDougal pale in comparison under the
mischief category.
Yep," Baxter said, "just like me."
"Let's take all three to Faylinn for some rest and recreation," Yus
urged, anxious to see the planet. "Have you been innoculated yet?"
"Inocu what?" Baxter asked. "You mean with a needle thing? No way."
"Yes way," Yus said firmly. "We are going down to the Infirmary to get it
or you're babysitting the base while I'm gone."
Can't we just pop down there without that?" he asked.
"No." She looked at him and then smiled. "Don't be such a baby. It won't
hurt that much. If you cry, I'll give you a chocolate, so are you coming
already?"
"Okay, and yes we'll take all three of the wee beasties, too. We might
need their opinions. Shall we go now? Or do I have to carry you?"
"Ahem," said Yus under her breath, "Now someone has become Mr Macho."
=/\= =/\= =/\=
"Now that wasn't too bad," Yus remarked as she held the alcohol swab
against her newly injected arm. "A pity they ran out of the hyponoculation. They don't use needles for that."
"Ow," Baxter said. "It still hurts."
"Quit fussing," Yus gave him the promised chocolate since he did not
scream. At least not that loudly.
Baxter grinned and ate his chocolate. "Hey, Babe, this tastes just like
my special stash from Planet Hershey. Wait a minute...it IS from my
secret stash. Yus..."
"We'll head to the planet now," Yus soothed. "Come on Nameless!"
MacDougal trailed along as well.
"How did you find my chocolate..." Baxter was whining as they proceeded
to the planet...
"Web of Deceit"
=/\= Argellius =/\=
The garden inside House Jerillion was massive - easily large enough to
build enough housing for a thousand people. It was maintained by a cadre
of gardeners, as benefited the status of a House Major. Acres of
manicured lawns were divided by elegant bush rows, masses of exotic
flowers, and, in the center, a massive maze made of large interwoven
hedges and stone columns.
He smiled at the site - memories of many days of playing in the gardens,
hiding in the mazes, and boyish pranks on the moderately tolerant
gardeners floated across his mind. In the distance, he could see a pair
of stooped forms tending a massive Terran weeping willow tree, clipping
the drooping branches to an even length as they brushed the grass under
the light breeze that wafted through the flowers and trees.
He set off down the central path that bisected the fields of grass,
intent of reminiscing with the couple tending the tree. As he passed one
of the maze entrances, he heard a strange hissing noise. Turning his
head, he caught the briefest of movements just inside the opening. He
turned towards the maze, unsure of what he'd heard, when a face appeared
around the edge.
"Elises! What are you doing?"
The man waved a hand downward, cautioning him to a lower volume. "My
Lord. Please - it is urgent that I speak with you."
Tucking his hands in his pockets, he rocked back on his heels. "Sure.
What's up?"
"Not here, m'Lord. Please - would you come with me?"
Concerned, Ron headed into the maze, following behind the older House
Warder, who quickened his pace. Nearly trotting to keep up, Ron followed
the man through a series of rapid left-and-right turns, growing more and
more confused at each turn. He called out to Elises, but received no
other reply than a quieting motion.
Finally, the pair reached the center of the maze. Elises leapt up the
steps of the huge pavilion lightly, displaying a urgency that belied his
apparent age. Ron followed, watching the man with growing concern as he
fished an odd bit of electronics out of his pocket, and began pressing
buttons on it. As he grew closer, he realized that the device was a
multi-frequency jammer, capable of masking any frequency generated within
its field. He quirked an eyebrow at the Warder as the man gingerly placed
the device on the ground between the two of them. "Is that what I *think*
it is?"
A somewhat embarrassed nod accompanied the reply. "Yes, m'lord. It's a
scrambler. Your grandfather has ears everywhere."
Uneasy, Ron's glance slipped from Elises to look around the area. "What's
with all the cloak-and-dagger, Elises? And *why* would Grandfather have
eavesdropping devices on the grounds?"
"It's not just the grounds - the entire House is monitored in one way or
another." He sighed, and ducked his head in what appeared to be shame.
"Many things have changed since the day you left your House, m'Lord."
"Okay - the 'Sir's' and 'my Lords' have to stop, Elises. Call me by my
name - or better yet, call me Ron, as my friends do. As you used to when
I was young."
Elises grimaced, and looked away. "It's not *appropriate*, m'Lord. You
are a Master of a House Major,"
"Nevertheless."
The older man looked up at him, and paused to study him for a moment.
"You have your mother's gaze. Ron. It commands without demanding, just as
she did."
Ron acknowledged the remark with a sad smile. "Thank you. Now - what's
this all about?"
"It concerns your mother. I fear that. evil, for lack of a better word,
has been done."
The unease grew inside him. "What do you mean? What has happened?"
Unconsciously, his hands slipped out of his pockets, and he glanced
around the pavilion again, eyes searching for danger.
"In the last months of your mother's life, your grandfather began plans
to find you, and return you to the House. His power has grown immensely
since you left - and he trusts no one to within the spider's web he has
created." Elises' face contorted with anger and contempt. "He has
forsaken the honor of our House in return for corruption and manipulation
by threats, scandal and dishonor. His lust for power knows no bounds!"
Realizing the volume of his voice, he glanced about quickly, and
continued in a lower volume. "Your mother refused to assist him in his.
his.*sleaze* - and refused to speak any word of you or your whereabouts."
"When he threatened her, many of the House vassals stood up with her,
threatening to leave his service and spread his dishonorable words across
the planet. Enraged, he had many of them dismissed as disloyal and Wordbroken. Many of them disappeared completely, no doubt murdered by your
Grandfather's less-than-reputable connections, or frightened into hiding
from the examples made of others. As for your Lady mother, he confined
her to her room, where he continued to harangue her, threaten her - even
abuse her, by the marks that were upon her body."
Nauseated at the story, Ron could only nod for the man to continue.
"I was ready to commit my life to destroying his hold on her - but she
begged me to be loyal, if for no other reason than to give her some form
of influence outside of her rooms." Ashamed, the older man looked away,
briefly knuckling tears from his eyes. "I did as she asked, out of
loyalty to her and some small hope that the Honor of this House could be
returned. But then, she began to grow sick."
"Sick?" Ron's jaw worked as he forced himself to speak past the horror he
felt. "What do you mean, sick?"
"Every day, she grew weaker and weaker, until she began to waste away.
She often vomited up everything she ate, along with copious amounts of
blood. The new 'vassals' your grandfather had brought into the House were
told that she'd contracted Boromal wasting - and they would have nothing
to do with her. In supposed 'fear of being contaminated', they would have
nothing to do with her - more likely, though, that their new Lord
commanded them to do so. I tried to bring her medicines when I could, but
they had no effect. Finally, a Tenday ago, she fell into a coma, and
could not be awakened - or would not, I more suspect."
"The Master Physician of the House, whom I also believe to be within the
web of deceit, declared her dead, and her body was interned in stasis in
preparation for her Ascension. And here, your Grandfather finally
achieved his triumph. He'd discovered that you had entered Starfleet, and
sent out a communiqué to return you to the House. He plans to enact the
Debt of Fealty, and force Starfleet to dismiss you as the last member of
the Jerillion line."
Stunned, Ron staggered backwards into a chair. He collapsed into it,
staring at the House Warder's face in horror and disbelief, refusing to
accept the words. "No." he whispered. "You lie. Surely, you lie." But
despite his refusals, he knew, deep inside, that the words were true.
"No, m'lord. Ron. I would *never* lie about something of this magnitude.
And even if I did - what ever would I hope to gain from it?"
But he knew, deep inside, that Elises spoke the truth. Grief welled up
next to anger. Enraged, Ron shot out of the chair, grabbed it, and threw
it across the pavilion. "NO!" he screamed. "NO! NO! NO!"
Elises grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. "Stop that! You risk
us being caught, and much more!" He shook him again as Ron struggled to
break free. Defeated of the burst of rage, he reeled backwards, and began
to weep. Elises gathered him into his arms, and pressed Ron's head into
his shoulder as he whispered, "But those of us who are left - we *will*
restore the honor of this House, Master Jerillion."
"Insinuations"
=/\= Argellius =/\=
Despite her idea of going to bed, Mulder decided in the end to stay awake
and dressed. She dragged a large overstuffed armchair over to the window,
and settled down in it. This way she could relax and keep an eye out for
Ron in his wanderings at the same time.
The excesses of the evening took their toll, however, and she soon
drifted off into a deep slumber. Her body-clock refused to switch off
completely though, and she awoke several hours later, fully alert. "Ron?"
she called quietly, her eyes roving the room to no avail. It was obvious
he'd not returned, and glancing at the chronometer she froze in alarm
when she saw how many hours had passed. "Crap....crap crap crap...where
the hell *are* you, Ron?" she muttered as she darted out of the room.
She almost groaned aloud as it began to dawn on her that she didn't have
clue where she was, or where she ought to start. Figuring that anywhere
was better than nowhere, she tried to make as methodical a search as
possible, corridor by corridor and room by room.
Putting on her most officious tone, she accosted any servants she saw
with an imperious, "Has the Lord Jerillion passed this way?" but met with
negative responses. After several such encounters, she began to feel more
uneasy than ever. There was something wrong with these people - their
body language was giving off all the wrong messages. Hostility and
wariness in the degrees she was reading wasn't normal - not even in a
situation like this.
Coming back in almost a full circle, she had to fight every urge in her
body not to yell out in alarm as she realized she was no longer alone.
From a shadowed alcove, a large man stepped out into the hallway. The
uniform, a blue so dark that it was almost black, was cut to exacting
standards; proudly emphasized his broad shoulders and narrow waist. He
was hatchet-faced, heavy browed, with dark eyes that glared down at her.
"What are you doing, woman?"
"Admiring the scenery - until now," she retorted, not giving an inch, and
staring him up and down with undisguised scorn. She'd summed him up in an
instant, based on her knowledge of similar scumbags she'd arrested in her
time. Bullies and chauvinists roused her to near-homicidal tendencies,
and fear for Ron and the disquiet she couldn't shake off had given her
the urge to break something. "What'sup, Tiny? Closing time at the
kindergarten already? Want me to try and find your mommy for you?"
His glare darkened as he scowled down at her, hands set on hips. "You are
not allowed in this area late at night."
"Shut it, sweetcheeks," she was itching for him to start something. "I am
Ron Jerillion's bodyguard," she drew herself up and tried to out-protocol
him, "And I go where he goes." She only hope he didn't ask where Ron was,
as it would spoil the image a bit to admit she didn't have a bloody clue
where he was.
He smirked at the comment, eyes roving lasciviously up and down her body.
"*Certainly* you are." His comment left no room for misunderstanding of
it's meaning.
"Tush, tush, Tiny. How uncharitable and *low* of you. Didn't they ever
tell you that smutty innuendo is the last resort of guys who aren't
getting any?" Since "Tiny" was being uncooperative in the knock-down
fight stakes, she shrugged it off and finished simply, "I've got a job to
do, and I'm trying to do it. "
"Nonetheless." He pointed imperiously behind her. "You *will* return to
your room."
Behind him came a small noise. The man turned, revealing Ron standing
behind him. The brute between them barely contained a snarl as he stated
flatly, "Lord Jerillion."
"Foester." Ron acknowledged.
Jerking a thumb over his shoulder, he growled "Is this one *yours*?"
Crossing his arms over his chest, Ron quirked an eyebrow at him." 'Is
this one yours, *Lord Jerillion*?' And while she belongs to no one but
herself, Captain Mulder stands in the place of my Second, Foester. As I'm
certain you know."
"Mmph." His gaze returned to Mulder, with an almost leering grin. "You've
certainly chosen well, My Lord."
"Right, asshole." Mulder advanced on him. "You can insult me all you
want, but you insult me in the presence of *him* and you've just asked to
have that sneer wiped off your face and shoved so far up your - "
Ron raised a hand, cutting off Mulder's fury. "You dishonor your House
and your Lord with your words, Foester. Although, I never thought any
better of you, anyways. "
Foester's hand lifted into the air, and his face swelled with fury.
"Go ahead." Ron stated mildly, not flinching away. The hand lowered, and
Foester spun away from him, nearly crashing into Mulder as he stormed
away.
"Who's your charming mate?" Mulder jerked a thumb after the vanishing
figure of Foester.
"Foester. Grandfather's standing Second - and a more brutal thug you'd be
hard-pressed to find." Eyeing the retreating form with a frown, he
stepped over to her. "What did he say to you?"
She gave a dismissive shrug, "Only the sort of thing you'd expect an
ignorant pile of dog-mess like that to say. The usual innuendo and leers.
That's the sort of guy who's just *asking * to have his head kicked in
one day. And I sincerely hope I'm the one that gets the pleasure. He
seemed to want to practice every "you're obviously sleeping with the
boss" variation ever written."
He sighed, and shook his head. "I'm sorry, Mulder. But it doesn't
surprise me at all."
"It doesn't?" she demanded. "Why not?"
"Most people here assume you are...well, my whore, for lack of a better
term."
"Oh for feks sake!" she exploded. "What the hell sort of asshole
mentality IS this?" she whirled on him, the tension and edginess bringing
her to snapping point. "I've a good mind to go back there and - "
"Easy!" He placed his hands on her shoulders. "Calm down. You are dealing
with a society that barely pays lip service to equality of the sexes.
Women have the mandated freedoms, but are still looked at as second-class
citizens." He smiled ruefully. "You see why I left?"
She rolled her eyes and gave a small sound of grudging acquiescence.
"Mmmph." Glowering in silence for a moment, she made a determined effort
to shake off her mood. "Yeah, it's not your fault, I know that. I just " she shook her head and gave another shrug, "Oh, sod it. I can't change
the galaxy's morals single handed, so there's no point in me banging on
about it right now." Giving him a curious look, she recalled what had led
to the debacle in the first place. "Where did you get to, Ron? You were
gone for hours."
"Let's talk in our room." Ron said quietly and urgently.
About to open her mouth to say he could jolly well start to explain right
here, right now, she didn't even get the first word out before Ron
interrupted her. "Come with me." He steered her back down the hallway,
turning here and there until they were within the room. Once inside, he
withdrew the scrambler that Elises had given him, and dialed it on.
Her eyes grew large as she saw what he was doing, and she rubbed her ears
to help relieve the slight tingling that her Jaz'Aarian hearing acuity
was causing, being sensitive to extreme high pitched sounds. Although
unfamiliar with the device itself, she instantly recognized what it was
for. "Scrambling device," she stated quietly.
"Yes. Apparently, Grandfather has the entire House wired to eavesdrop on
whatever conversations he so chooses."
"What a nut-job," she muttered, then looked carefully again at Ron. "But
there's more to it than an old man's paranoia, isn't there? I can see there's something very, very wrong here. Tell me."
Ron sighed, and flopped backwards into a chair. He shielded his eyes with
one hand. "To put it bluntly, Mother was murdered."
Mulder let out a long deep breath. "Holy crap, what a mess. I mean - I'm
sorry to hear that, Ron," she added quickly. "But this is a regular
vipers nest we've stumbled into." Her detective instincts aroused, she
sat herself down in a chair opposite him and settled back. "Let's hear it
from the top."
Ron began to tell the tale that had been passed to him by the House
Warder, explaining Ilisisone's devious plans, his mother's imprisonment,
all the while inserting the details of the inner workings of the House
society as he did.
Mulder listened in silence for the most part, only occasionally
interjecting a pertinent question to aid clarification. She shut out all
personal feelings and tried to listen as dispassionately as if she were
hearing a witness statement from a complete stranger. Absorbing
everything thus far, she then asked, "What have you got by way of hard
evidence?"
"After he told me, I began to inquire on my own, asking after the
remaining vassals that weren't dismissed. I also did some investigation
of the newer vassals my father brought on." He reached inside his jacket
pocket and withdrew a small pile of flimsies, tossing them on the hassock
in front of him. "Among others, the new gardeners are electronics experts
with connections to criminal movements, and many others 'worked' as
mercenaries in the same unit as Foester did. And whether or not their
backgrounds are known by the other Houses, Grandfather has every right to
bring into House anyone he wants. He has told those who inquire that he
is 'giving them another chance to regain their honor' by working for a
House Major." He shook his head, disgust evident on his face.
Mulder picked up the pile of flimsies and looked quickly through them.
"We need to store these somewhere safe, for a start," she said briskly.
Then, her voice softer she asked "Exactly how *did * your mother die?"
"I *think* she was poisoned, Mulder. Elises told me she died of Boromal
fever - something akin to the Terran E. Bolla virus - but the medications
he described that he was able to slip to her *should* have cured any
infection, viral or bacteriological. It could have been given to her in
any number of ways - in her food, or drink, or even within her room as an
aerosol." He threw up his hands in dismay. "I don't know - and unless I
have a body to autopsy, there isn't a damned thing I can do about it."
"We need a damn sight more evidence," Mulder said somberly. For the
moment, she avoided any mention of autopsy. There was the unspoken
thought that there would indeed have to be one, and it would have to fall
to Ron to perform it. "There are so many people involved, someone out
there will know enough to make a case. A confession - if there's enough
meat on it - will be a good start."
"Heh. That's *your* department. I'm not a detective, luv - I'm a
physician."
Mulder gave him a smile, "Then you're in luck, My Lord," she gave an
ironic bow. "Because I happen to be a detective. At least, I was once.
And a damn good one too. I might be a little rusty, but if I can start to
*think * like a detective again, we might get somewhere. On a practical
level, what are the laws on this place around here? I mean, what am I
allowed to do?"
"Not a lot you *can* do, to my knowledge. In order to accuse a member of
a House with a crime, one must assemble the proof first, and present it
with the accusation. And somehow, I don't think Grandfather will be too
keen on letting me perform an autopsy on Mother, either. So, unless you
can think of a way to spirit her body away for about 48 hours without
anyone noticing it, or me, being gone," he waved an encouraging hand at
her, "then by all means - go right ahead."
"Let's start with something a little more straightforward," Mulder said
slowly. "If she was indeed poisoned, the most obvious way to do it would
be to add increasingly lethal doses of whatever it was, to her food. That
would mean that the cook had to be implicated. Either he or she added
poison on direct orders, or at the very least would be aware of someone
else doing so. I suggest our best course of action is to start by
interrogating the cook."
"Hm." Ron rubbed his chin in thought. "Now, *that's* an idea. If we could
find a way around Foester's protection, and make certain that he didn't
inform Grandfather afterwards, it *might* work."
"Simple," Mulder's voice was grim. "Simple - but a bit dodgy from your
professional point of view. Medically induced amnesia would do the
trick."
He looked up at Mulder. "Now, Captain - I'm *shocked*! What you are
suggesting is *highly* unethical." He chuckled somewhat evilly at the
thought. "Can you find a way to get me a few uninterrupted hours with the
cook?"
Mulder muttered half to herself, "Illegal interrogation is a speciality
of mine these days. Well, maybe not me personally but I know a man who
can. But that's a long, long way away." Seeing the look of puzzlement she
shook her head to banish the unwelcome thoughts. "Ignore me. It's just a
touch of Deja Vu. As to the cook, I'm sure I can find a way. Do we have a
go?"
"You're on, m'lady. Can you make it happen tonight?"
She pondered that for a moment, and then asked a question of her own.
"How will you do it? I mean, what do you need by way of equipment or time
or place?"
"I can do it anywhere - perhaps even in the kitchen, if you can keep
people out of there for a few minutes."
Nodding, she said thoughtfully, "I can do that, yes. But I would suggest
we hold for a few more hours. You're exhausted, and this is way too
crucial to allow for any margin of error. It's going to be difficult
enough as it is. Plus, if we start creeping around at this unearthly
hour, it'll only take one wrong move to call attention to ourselves.
Better to wait until the kitchens are quiet, but when it's perfectly
reasonable for people like us to be up and about. Get the first meal of
the day out of the way, then we'll hit."
"Good. We'll do it right after breakfast. 'Til then." he gave out a huge
yawn, and rubbed blurry eyes, "I'm absolutely shot. I need some sleep."
"Yeah," she gave him a gentle smile, and was about to suggest he head for
the bed when she saw that his eyes were already closed and he was asleep
where he sat. Covering him over with a soft blanket, she returned to her
chair to stockpile some sleep on her own behalf.
=/\= Administrative Offices - Upper Promenade - Starbase BoB =/\=
Acting second Executive Officer Paxan Brey stood in front of the broken
door on the second level of the promenade and glared at it pitifully.
This was terribly unfair, she thought. She knew at this very moment
Parvis Maru and his pathetic hairpiece were up in Ops living it up.
Pushing open the semi functional door, the young woman entered into her
temporary office. This was definitely going to be interesting. Aside from
her duties on Faylinn that included researching as much wildlife as she
could, Paxan's calendar for the day was jam packed.
The young woman eyed her appointments and frowned. "United Banking
Customer forum?" she muttered to herself, "What the hell does that mean?"
It took a few minutes for Paxan to recall but eventually, she realized
what the whole issue was about. The newly instituted banking system on
BoB was still in its infancy and with the uncertainty of station security
do to the arrival of planet Faylinn, there were obviously a lot of
worries. Paxan knew the level of fear and anxiety when it came to a
greedy person's money. The image of Emma Finn sprang to mind suddenly but
Paxan brushed the distasteful woman aside.
They would arrive soon to discuss their options and Paxan would have to
allay there worries as best she could. She only hoped the meeting
wouldn't be long. She had far too many things to do today.
=/\= 2 Hours Later =/\=
"I don't care what kind of predictable excuses you've got for us,
lieutenant but we want more than just rhetoric!" growled the Ktarian
merchant, "We want results!"
Several other shop owners that had gathered in Paxan's musty office were
nodding and pumping their fists in agreement.
Paxan Brey sat behind her desk and tried to smile empathetically,
"Ofcourse you want results and I don't blame you. I know exactly how you
feel after all-my own brother is one of you."
"Ah, yes...Adevian Brey of Abode. A good man!" crowed an older female
Bizantian, "He had terrific happy hours."
The young lieutenant smiled happily. Finally, she was making a break and
gaining their confidence. "Now, as I'm aware of the pressure to keep your
hard earned money safe, let me assure you - not as an administrator of
the station - but as a concerned family member of a business owner such
as yourselves, we are committed to securing the banking system on
Starbase BoB."
The assembled group looked around slightly then nodded in agreement. They
liked how this was sounding, which was pleasing to Paxan. She continued,
"Furthermore, I will personally meet with BoB chief security officer and
we *will* do whatever it takes to set your mind at ease. As such, let me
do something to help in easing you anxiety," she said while picking up a
small PADD and typing furtively, "I am hereby issuing free therapy
sessions for each and every one of you with our counseling department."
The group perked and a wave of approving clucked circled the room. Paxan
grinned at the thought of "Executive Officer" Maru being bombarded with
the fears of a dozen frustrated business owners. The young woman couldn't
help but feel a slightly sense of payback. "So, anyway...all of you make
your appointments with either Counselor Dharma or Parvis Maru - although
I would recommend Maru - and rest assured that I will be working on
securing the bank. Does this sound agreeable to you?"
The group nodded, "Oh yes, yes!" said one while another added, "Very
good...very good indeed!"
Paxan stood from her chair, "Excellent then. I will contact you all
shortly with an update on the situation and thank you for coming to me
with your concerns," she said with a smile. A part of her wanted to
recoil from the sound of her own voice as it slightly resembled the tone
Lauren Brey would make when addressing one of her underlings. It would
seem, she had picked it up in her years of being raised by the woman and
was not so immune to her influence as she'd like to think.
As the merchants filed out, Paxan sat back in her chair and exhaled
heavily. She had been successful in sweeping aside their worries but she
knew this was only half the battle. She would also have to follow up on
her promises.
Touching the comm-unit affixed to her desk, Paxan spoke to the air,
"Computer, locate Baxter Mattingly and inform him that Need to speak with
him immediately."
=/\= Beach - Planet Faylinn =/\=
"No, I will not do it. It is dishonorable and unworthy of a Klingon
warrior!" Llara snorted and turned her nose up at the Felim children. She
looked stunning in her one-piece bathing suit, her long hair coiled up in
a complex nest of braids.
"Please! We built this castle, now we need a monster to attack it!"
"A monster? I am a monster to you?" Llara growled.
"Yes, yes, just like that!" they cried, retreating into their little
fortress of sand and sea shells. "Do it! Do it!" they squealed.
"I shall not!" Llara turned away, arms crossed.
Wandering onto the scene, Pomgorian Crengarium noticed the exchange
between the small Felim children and one beautiful Klingon. Pogo eyed the
warrior several times over and grinned widely - hish pointed canine teeth
glistening white in the sunshine. "Oh come now, Ms. To'pah, surely you
can indulge these little children for a little while?" asked the Hermat
as s/he stepped closer.
"Pogo," Llara's voice dripped with disinterest as the horny Hermat sidled
up to her. S/he seemed to be enjoying Llara's scanty beachwear a bit too
much.
Pogo grinned and hish eyes flashed, "From where I'm standing I don't see
a problem with that," s/he said, "In fact, I think these little kids have
the right idea. I mean, I wouldn't mind you conquering my fortress." The
Hermat waggled his brows at Llara.
"You would undoubtedly perish in the act of receiving such an honor,"
Llara sneered.
S/he laughed in response, "I'm only joking of course, okay, not really,"
said Pogo as s/he glanced over at the children. "But just look at them.
Why not indulge there little childish fantasies for one minute?"
"Hm. I have a suggestion. Perhaps if you were to crawl into the fortress
with them. Then I might consider attacking." The children took this
statement as a commitment to action and renewed their giggling.
Pogo was laughing internally as s/he threw hir arms up, "Alright, fair is
fair." Kneeling down, Pogo crawled towards the castle and motioned for
the children to make room for hir.
Llara watched as the slender Hermat wiggled hir way into the crowded
little sandy walls, joining the trio of children inside.
"Very well. I shall now attack the fortress!" Llara shouted loudly,
waving her fists in the air. She stomped one foot heavily on the sand,
digging the heel in for the launch of her assault. The little Klingon's
yellowed teeth were bared, her eyes were wide, and a deep growl was
building in her belly.
Playing into the children's excitement, Pogo whimpered, "Oh, no. There's
a big monster going to get us!" Pogo was thinking of all kind of things
he's like to do to the 'monster'. S/he stifled such thoughts for a more
appropriate time.
"Bleargh!" Llara shuffled forward, lifting her feet high, stomping them
heavily upon the sand. Careful not to kick it into anyone's eyes, she
slowly advanced upon the fortress.
"You'll never take us alive!" shouted Pogo from inside the cramped sandy
fortress as the children laughed uncontrollably.
Pausing for just a moment, Llara held one foot high for an extra moment,
eliciting squeals from the children, before bringing it down upon the
wall of the fortress.
Pogo was grinning as s/he peered out of a tiny opening in the castle
wall. Damn, that Klingon is hot, s/he thought before going back to the
siege of hish domain, "We're not afraid of you!"
"Grrrrr! Kah'less! Bleargh!" Llara shouted, stomping her way around the
wall, circling the helpless ones trapped inside.
"Wait! What is this? An intruder! This one is not of you!" Llara pointed
at Pogo. "S/he is an impostor! You must bury hir body in sand,
immediately, or s/he will eat the ears right off of your head!"
The children squealed frantically as they all turned simultaneously on
Pogo. Knocking down most of the castle themselves, they jumped on the
Hermat and began covering hir with sand.
"Ack!" s/he squeaked as heaps of wet grit was flung onto her face and
chest, "Oh no, I'm being buried alive!" s/he crowed dramatically.
"Watch the eyes there," Llara commented on their work. "Make sure to get
the feet, now."
The children continued to bury the Hermat without hir putting up much of
a fight. Finally after s/he was completely covered, Pogo let hish head
fall back in the sand, "Alright, alright.I surrender!"
The children cheered wildly and ran around in dizzying circles.
Pogo eyed Llara, "I willingly surrender to you Madam warrior and allow
you to take me as your prisoner of war," s/he said as s/he extended hish
sandy hand towards the Klingon.
Llara yanked on the offered arm and launched Pogo to hish feet.
Being pulled out of the beach-side grave, Pogo dusted hirself off and
turned towards the children, "Alright kiddos, you guys won this battle
but I will win the war. Until then, Ms To'pah has taken me as her
prisoner so we must be going." The Hermat smiled and winked at the little
children.
The children continued to lose their minds as they screamed and spun,
breathlessly retelling of the siege to each other as the pair of
Starfleet crewmembers walked away.
The small beachside bar was lightly populated, except for the little
Klingon and the insatiable Hermat. Fresh off their sandy battle, they sat
on stools at a tall table overlooking the beach.
"This beverage is mildly tolerable," Llara nodded at the glass in her
hand. It had begun life as the usual bland Faylinn beverage, but with a
splash of some local fruit juices and a shot of well-fermented fruits, it
almost passed as a proper cocktail. "How is yours?"
"Puurfect" cooed the Hermat, "And the company I'm sharing is also very
enjoyable," s/he said as s/he slurped down more of hish fruity
concoction.
"So, the little blue twerp and your boss got bumped up the chain. Miss
Brey, I can understand, but Parvis?" Llara snorted and took another slug
from the tall cup.
Pogo shook hish head, "Oh lordy. Paxan is not gonna be happy about it."
"And why would that be? Does she not wish to elevate herself to a
position of greater authority?"
"Well, if I know Paxan Brey she's going to be a little irritated that
Parvis was given XO over her," explained Pogo.
"Well, yes. I could see that bothering anyone." Llara finished her drink
and waved the empty glass for a refill.
The Hermat's eyes twinkled in the warm light, "What do you think about
Parvis becoming the XO?"
"Ha!" Llara snorted. "We're all doomed. Did you hear those new orders he
sent out the moment he took the job? He claims he is just looking out for
everyone's safety, but I know better. He's simply trying to cover his own
little blue ass."
Pogo nearly shot hish drink out hish nostrils, "You sound like you're
speaking out of experience when it comes to Maru's backside."
"No, that was just an expression. I desire nothing less than the sight of
his sorry blue ass." Llara accepted a fresh drink from a waiter, who
mumbled that the appetizer they had ordered was to arrive imminently.
Pogo chugged hish drink quickly and sent hish empty glass back with the
waiter along with a request for another one. S/he was on vacation damn it
and that meant drinking as much as s/he wanted.
The platter arrived and was placed between the pair. Based solely on the
recommendation of the waiter, they had ordered the local delicacy,
without asking what it was. Just a name, 'Tilla'.
"What is it?" Llara stared at the mushy pile of orange in the center of
the platter. It, presumably the Tilla itself, was surrounded by some
triangles of bready material, presumably for Tilla conveyance, and a pair
of small bowls with different colors of sauce.
Looking into the dish, Pogo shrugged and took a piece of the bread
triangle and scooped out a bit of Tilla. S/he grinned at Llara, "If I die
from this, tell my family that I died in some exciting adventure, kay?"
"You will be remembered bravely, with many songs," Llara replied, raising
her glass.
Popping the Tilla treat into hish mouth, Pogo chewed for several minutes,
then swallowed.
"Doesn't go down too quickly, does it?" Llara observed.
"Hmm, well the good news is, is that I'm not dead," Pogo said with an
uncertain smirk. It appeared that the Hermat hadn't officially decided on
the experience of eating a Felim delicacy.
Llara eyed hir closely, looking for signs of distress.
"And the bad news is that it doesn't taste like anything I can describe.
Actually, I think it really doesn't have much taste at all," said Pogo as
s/he took more of the Tilla and popped it into hish mouth.
Llara joined Pogo, she scooping up a mass of orange mush and tossed it
into her mouth. She chewed it for longer than should have been necessary,
and then swallowed. "It is, uninteresting. Perhaps the sauces will help."
"Ooh, you are daring!" quipped Pogo as s/he followed Llara's lead with
the sauce, "I knew I liked you for a reason."
Llara dipped a Tilla-coated triangle into the other sauce, a watery
brownish affair with little flakes of something floating in it. Tossing
it back, she smiled. "Yes, this one is worthy. Very spicy." Llara burped
loudly and laughed heartily.
Pogo laughed as well and dived hish third piece of Tilla into the
brownish sauce, "Down the hatch!" s/he pronounced as s/he gobbled it up.
"Not bad," s/he said agreeably, "So, tell me Ms. To'pah, how did a lovely
Klingon creature like you end up on BoB anyway?"
"The usual story. Girl gets job. Supervisor hits on girl. Girl hits
supervisor with his own desk until he passes out. Transfer to BoB." Llara
was surprised, the sauce should have put the little Hermat on hish back,
screaming in agony.
"Oh really?" s/he said, "And you're not married either, how can this be?"
Llara sneered at Pogo. "I have not yet found a suitable male to take."
She made an uncomfortable, upward grasping motion with her fingers. "And,
frankly, the selection on BoB precludes finding such a thing. I need to
be with the Klingons. However, they have mistakenly excluded me from
service to the Empire." Llara shoved another handful of Tilla into her
mouth, chewing angrily.
The Hermat was remembering the portrait Raoul Wainscoting had produced of
Llara and how alluring the Klingon looked in it. In comparison to how she
looked in the framing of the warm sun, that portrait did not do her the
justice of her true beauty, "Well, those silly Klingons back on Qo'nos
are crazy if you ask me. Your certainly the bravest of your race that's
I've ever had the pleasure of knowing." Pogo hadn't really met too many
Klingons other than Llara but s/he decided to ignore that small
inconsequential fact.
Llara noticed Pogo giving her an odd look. She quickly changed the
subject. "I hear rumors that your boss, Miss Brey, is organizing some
sort of scandalous party to celebrate the upcoming wedding of Miss Omar.
What do you know of this?"
Pomgorian shrugged, "Ropes, whips, chains, chicks, you know, the usual
hen party," s/he said with a grin, "Actually, It's going to include a lot
of naked gyrating strippers I think."
"It sounds like a typical Terran affair. Yet, strangely, I am curious
about such an event." Llara mused, wondering if she would be invited.
"You and me both," exclaimed the Hermat, "I'm not even sure if I'm
invited to the little soirÃ(c)e. Apparently my male bits preclude me from
being able to come." For the first time in hish memory, Pogo was unhappy
with hish male genitalia.
Llara belched again. She noticed movement nearby. "I think our
babysitters have come for us." A security officer from BoB was waving at
them. "Apparently our four hours in paradise are up."
Pogo sighed heavily at the officer's approach, "Well, damn.I guess all
good things must come to an end," s/he said as s/he stood from the table
and gulped down the remainder of hish beverage.
"By the way," Llara said, as they strolled across the beach towards the
waiting shuttle. "Your defense of the sand fortress was weak. You should
have launched a counterattack when I was distracted by the walls."
Looking over at the Klingon, Pogo waggled hish brows at her, "Or perhaps
I wanted you conquer me," s/he said with a grin, "Like I told the
children, I am now your prisoner of war and you can do with me as you
please."
Llara growled deeply. She'd walked right into that one. "You should hang
out with Mr Wainscoting, I suspect you would get along famously. Perhaps
we can find you some Klingon pain-sticks."
Pogo laughed as the pair walked down the beach towards the shuttle that
would soon take them back to the starbase.
=/\= Planet Faylinn =/\=
The ground beneath her feet was firm and Paxan felt good to be back on
the planet Faylinn. Most of her young life had been spent in starships
and space stations but there was nothing like being back on a planet's
surface, in the warm wind and bright sky especially after being locked in
a crappy office with a bunch of angry business-persons. Paxan was
thankful to have a brief respite away from BoB, even if it was only for a
short time. Her orders to research the planet, thankfully afforded her a
small window to return to Faylinn and continue her planetary survey.
Drake Bastian had become her constant companion these last few days and
Paxan had become thankful to have him along. Aside from being a good ear
to vent her frustrations on, Drake was funny and helpful. Having been
born on Risa, he had a keen knowledge of all manner of plant life which
was very helpful while she catalogued as much of the area as possible.
Dressed in field uniforms, the pair sifted through a large meadow that
stretched on for miles. The surrounding grass was green and lush, but
speckled throughout the foliage were large grey rocks that ranged from
small to medium to boulder. Running a hand scanner along the surface of
one of the medium sized rocks, Drake chuckled to himself as Paxan related
her story.
"So, after our first session I realized that the hair on his head isn't
real at all. I think it's a wig or something."
Bastian was holding his belly and laughing, "You're sure about this?" he
managed to get out.
Paxan nodded giddily, "At first I thought perhaps it was real and was
supposed to look like that but I did a little digging into his people's
background and history and it turns out that although some of them have
hair, none of them have hair that looks like his."
The young woman was on the verge of a coughing fit as she spoke, "I've
even heard rumors that he has a name for it but I don't think I believe
that!"
The pair giggled but suddenly, Drake sat up and looked around quickly-the
hilarious laughing he'd been enthralled in suddenly ceased. Brey's
laughing ebbed as she eyed him, "What's the matter with you?" she asked.
"I heard something...someone's coming," he said as he stood up and
spotted the newcomer who was approaching from the west. A Felim male with
chin length blue-green hair that was blowing wildly in the wind was
walking closer and the thin scales of his decidedly handsome face were
sparking in the warm sunlight.
Drake was instantly on the defense as he held out a hand towards the
unknown Felim, "State your name and business!" he ordered loudly as he
planted himself between the Felim and Paxan.
The Felim male stopped in his tracked and grinned good naturedly, his
grey eyes shining as he tilted his head, "I beg your pardon, sir. I did
not mean to alarm anyone. My name is Sanel and I was told that I may be
of some service to you and the young woman you are protecting."
Paxan stood up and moved beside Drake, touching his arm and giving him
the look to stand down. She now was worried that an offense could be in
progress. "Please, we apologize for any insult. It's just we weren't
expecting anyone else at the moment," she said with a genuine smile, "You
said someone told you we could use you help...who was it who told you
that?"
Sanel was smiling, "My sister told me. Her name is Merith; she said she
took to you a nearby stream and that you were interested in our planet's
eco-system?"
"You're sister is Merith!" exclaimed Paxan as she moved around Bastian
and held out her hand to Sanel, "Oh, please forgive us for being
rude...we are honored to meet you, Sanel."
"I am happy to hear that," said the Felim male as he shook Paxan's hand
and looking into her dual colored eyes, "And I take no offense in your
cautiousness...I only wish to assist you in your field studies."
Drake regarded Sanel and felt a swell of disappointment. He had been
enjoying the alone time he was sharing with Paxan and now it would seem
that three was a crowd. Sanel on the other was as friendly as could be as
he walked among the two starfleeters. "I'm afraid I can't really help
much in the area of zoology and entomology that is more my sister's field
but I'd like to help in whatever I can."
Feeling more comfortable with Sanel due to his kind eyes and constant
smile, Paxan sat back down on the ground and crossed her legs Indian
style, "That would be great. Drake and I were just taking core samples
from the rocks and sediment in the area."
The Felim joined the pair and lowered himself to the ground, "Rock
samples?" he asked, "Why would you do that?"
Bastian had been wondering the same thing but hadn't voiced the question.
He figured that as a scientist, Paxan had her reason sand he didn't want
to risk coming off dumb. Luckily for him, Sanel didn't seem to have those
inhibitions.
"We can learn a lot about a planet's history based on its rocks,"
explained Paxan as she picked up a baseball sized stone and scanned it
with her tricorder, "Like this one...the concentrations and patterns of
certain composites are very telling."
Sanel grinned at her and ran his lightly scaled fingers through his windswept hair, "You are as intelligent as you are beautiful," he stated
plainly. It was obvious that Sanel had no problem in expressing his
emotions.
Paxan on the other had blushed slightly and looked away, "You're sister
should have warned me her brother was such a Casanova."
"Casanova?" asked Sanel with a tilt of his head.
Sitting nearby, Drake chuckled, "It's from earth," he said as he scanned
several more rock samples, "Casanova was a famous adventurer from Earth's
ancient history. He prided himself on attracting beautiful woman of the
time."
The Felim nodded in understanding, "And earth is your planet?" he asked
quizzically.
"No, not mine," answered Drake with a shake of his head.
"I grew up there," interjected Paxan although she wasn't in the mood to
get into the complete history of her unusual upbringing, "My brother and
I both grew up on Earth."
Sanel perked at the mention of Paxan's family member, "You have a
brother?" he asked, "Is he older or younger than you?"
She smiled at the thought of her beloved brother whom she hadn't made
time to see in the last few weeks. She would rectify that as soon as
possible, she decided. "Adevian is my twin," she said with a grin, "Which
is to say he and I are the same age exactly. We were born on the same
day."
"Ah!" beamed Sanel excitedly, "My sister, whom you met already,
Merith...She and I are also twins!"
Paxan and Drake both looked at him then each other. "Really?" said the
young woman, "What a coincidence!" she chortled as she placed several
small rocks into a container to be scanned; "You and Merith must be very
close...like my brother and I are."
"Oh, yes...very close," Sanel confirmed, "It has always been that way
with us."
The young woman was about to agree when her chronometer began beeping.
Paxan tapped it quickly and silenced the alarm, "Oh no," she said under
her breath.
Moving to her side, Drake looked concerned, "Don't tell me it's time to
leave."
"I'm afraid so," she said sadly and looked towards Sanel, "Sorry,
Sanel...but it's time for us to return to our station. I have other
duties I need to take care of."
Sanel looked saddened but he nodded anyway, "I understand, will you be
able to come back soon?"
Brey smiled, "We'd like that," she said as she glanced at Drake. He
nodded and patted Sanel's shoulder, "Sure, why not." His commitment to
seeing Sanel again was half-hearted at best. The young marine would much
rather spend some time with Paxan all to himself but in the interests of
friendship decided it best not to tell the young Felim to take a hike.
Standing up and dusting herself off, Paxan shook Sanel's hand again,
"Thank you for your help, Sanel. We'll do our best to come back soon."
Taking another moment to enjoy the warm breeze, Paxan Brey led the way
towards the rendezvous shuttlecraft that she knew would be waiting for
them. The day had gone well and her earlier feelings of sadness seemed to
be washed away with all the attention she'd been getting (not to mention
the mountain load of work ahead of her) from Drake Bastian and now, Sanel
of Faylinn.
She only hoped things wouldn't take a turn for the worse as they
sometimes had a tendency of doing when anything became associated with
Starbase BoB.
=/\= CO's Office - Upper Promenade - Starbase BoB =/\=
Cade glanced up at the door chime and then looked at his watch. *Who the
hell is bothering me at this hour?* He taped the computer a couple of
more times before yelling, "Enter!"
McAlister gave her uniform one more tug. One would think, with the
universe at thier disposal, that Star Fleet could at least find a tailor
that was worthy. Her mood was once again, sinister and bitter. Grumpling,
she made her way to the CO's office, mentally noting that she should have
officially checked in a while ago. Upon hearing the officer yelp
"Enter!", McAlister couldn't help but grimmace. One of THOSE officers.
Cade arched one eyebrow. "Can I help you, Ensign?"
"Ensign Savannah McAlister. Officially reporting for duty." She attempted
not to let her eyes wonder, but it was difficult considering the
surroundings. McAlister balked at anyone in authority inwardly.
Outwardly, however, her appearance reeked of respect and humbleness.
"Really? What the hell did you do to get assigned here?" Realizing how
that sounded after it was blurted out, he quickly added, "Uhh, sorry
about that. What I meant to say was welcome aboard and have a seat while
I bring your paperwork up."
Arching her eyebrow in a Vulcanish manner, his initial response startled
her somewhat. She wondered once more if the male sitting in front of her
was the "authority be damned sort." Savannah hoped so. "Sir, I was
incarcerated for a period of three years on Yakasi for...let's just
say...improptu justice." She smiled weakly with not much conviction.
McAlister was possitive that he would respond with a "We don't
apprechiate that here" sort of comment. In all her experiance at the
academy and in prison, figures in authority, especially of the male
gender, were stereotyped as having stick up thier asses. And, the
stereotype was usually true to form. The ensign would give anything to be
anywhere but here sipping on a anything but non-alcoholic beverage. She
patiently waited for a response.
Cade, "Hmmm'd," as her file came up and he scanned it quickly, hitting
the highlights of the charges, court-martial, and prison time. *Another
one? She and Felix can open the local chapter of the Yakasi Mai Alumni
Association.* He turned away from the computer to look at the Ensign for
a moment. "Well, as much as it pains me to say it, Ensign McAlister,
you're probably going to fit right in."
"Um. Thank you sir, I think."
"Have you met Specialist Frank Palmice yet? If you haven't I suggest that
you buy him a cup of coffee and have a good sit-down with him." Cade
hesitated for a moment before continuing. "You two seem to have
certain...skills...in common that are of use to me from time to time."
"Yes, in fact I have." Pausing for a moment, she recalled how she made
him squirm and sinisterly grinned. "I shall do that."
"Talk to Palmice. I don't have anything more to say on the topic until
the JAG investigator leaves the station," he said quietly, but
forcefully. He dug through a pile of padds on the corner of his desk.
"Let's see...ahhh, here we go. New Arrival Checklist and Briefing." He
tapped the screen. "We'll say the briefing is over with..."
Savannah didn't find the stick she was searching for with this guy.
"Okay." Turning to leave, she turned back towards him. "Sir...anything
else?"
"Just a couple of things. Prior to getting set on the duty rota, you need
to have a physical and psychological evaluation. Doctor Alleir can take
care of the physical. If she's not on the planet, you can find her in
Sickbay." He turned his head and tapped the computer. "And Counselor
Dharma is out for a couple of weeks, so your psych eval will have to be
taken care of by the Acting XO, Lieutenant Maru, who is also the Chief
Counselor."
"Yummy. Another counselor to play with." She muttered. Looking up, she
once again grinned. "Sorry."
"Last thing. Quarters. Anything that's empty on Deck 80 is yours for the
claiming. It probably won't have any furniture in it, so you'll either
have to scrounge it or buy it." He settled back into his chair. "If
there's more than a centimeter of dust on the object you want to claim,
take it. Otherwise, it probably belongs to someone who learned
housekeeping from a Ferengi."
He stood and reached across the desk to shake the Ensign's hand.
"Starbase BoB is what you make of it, McAlister. More than a couple of
officers have found their redemption within these creaky walls." He
cleared his throat. "And many more have gotten their government-paid-forfuneral. This won't be an easy assignment, but it's not quite the south
end of a north-bound yak that most people assume it to be." He smiled at
her. "Welcome aboard, Ensign. You're dismissed."
"Thank you." McAlister turned to leave the office. It went much more
smoothly than she expected, which was a good thing. Her eyebrows knitted
for a second. "South end of a northbound Yak? That's just not right."
Clearing her thoughts, she was on a mission. That mission was to find
Palmice and execute some type of communication.
Distraction, however, was just around the corner...
"Interrogation"
=/\= Argellius =/\=
"I think you're nuts - you know that?" Mulder announced calmly.
"Hey, I think this whole *thing * is nuts, but we're in it now and
there's only one way out, and that's straight through it. Just trust me,
okay?"
"Well, okay - it's your show." Tucking the small bag of medications and
hyposprays under his arm, he headed out the door and down the hallways,
meandering slowly with Mulder next to him. As various people passed, he
would point out a trinket or an area, and begin to tell a story about it
from his childhood - whether it was true or not. As the person would
pass, they would continue on, until finally, they arrived at the main
door to the kitchen.
"Damn," Mulder stared at the two doors in front of them. "I can't be in
two places at once. I can keep them out of *one* door . but you're going
to have to sort something for the other."
"Once inside, I can bar the serving door. Almost anyone who would be
coming in now would be various workers who missed breakfast, and are
looking to pick up a snack or an early lunch. If you can think of a
reason to keep them out."
"That's not a problem," she assured him. "Go on in and lock the serving
door and leave the rest to me."
"All right, then. Good luck. With a somewhat somber wink, he ducked
inside the door. As it swung closed behind him, he eyed the area quietly,
picking out various areas in which he or someone else could hide, or be
hidden. Slowly, quietly he began to move along the walls, controlling his
footfalls to make as little noise as possible as he peered in the nooks
and crannies. Before long, he could hear the quiet humming and assorted
pottering noises as the cook went through the different phases of
preparing the next meal's menus. As he maneuvered closer, he saw a trio
of servants, who turned to see him. Quickly, he motioned them to silence,
and then towards the door with a wink and a grin, as if some sort of joke
were about to commence. They winked and giggled silently in return,
giving little waves and titters as they passed by.
As the door closed behind them, the head cook started, turning rapidly
around to stare at Ron, eyes wide. "Ah! M'Lord - you scared me!" He
glanced uneasily at the doctor's face, which was set in somber
contemplation of the task at hand. "Is there something I can do for you?"
Ron nodded, bringing a smile up onto his face - one that did not *quite*
reach his eyes. "Yes, actually." He crossed his arms over his chest, one
hand easing the hypospray into position covertly as he did. "Could you
tell me what will be on the menu for tomorrow's feast? I have become
allergic to a few foods and, considering the amount that has been
available to drink, I wanted to make certain I didn't run afoul of them
beforehand."
"Ah - a wise decision, m'Lord." The cook turned away, pleased at his
sudden importance in the eyes of a new House Lord.
He never heard the hiss of the hypospray as it darted in a snakelike bite
against his neck.
=/\= =/\= =/\=
Looking as fierce and impassive as she could manage, Mulder dealt with a
slow but steady procession of servants as they tried to enter the
kitchen. Putting a hand across the door she announced in a tone of
absolute authority that the Lord Jerillion was inside, making a personal
visit to thank the kitchen staff for all their work at the previous
night's feast, and to arrange the most *important* of menus, that of his
dearly beloved mother's funeral feast.
Faced with the double whammy of sentiment and authority, most withdrew
easily enough, though she knew time was running out before *someone*
started cutting up rough, or worse, started complaining to other servants
elsewhere. If the news started spreading, then they were both lost.
It was with some alarm that she felt the door start to open from the
inside. If it was someone trying to raise the alarm, she might have to
take more drastic action. Drawing her hand back, she prepared to deal a
knockout blow.
Easing the door open, Ron poked his head out. "And?"
Bringing her arm back down with a short huff of relief, she didn't
mention to Ron how near he had come to a swift uppercut. "All clear," she
murmured. "How did your side of things go?"
"I've got what I needed. And no one will know anything the wiser.
Especially when the cook wakes up."
"Good. So what happened?"
Glancing around, he muttered "Not here. Best somewhere that we won't be
overheard."
"Okay," she started to lead the way back to their room, but unable to
contain her curiosity couldn't help asking, "Were we right?"
He frowned. "Let's just say that. the results are positive."
Raising one eyebrow, she muttered "Game on."
=/\= Kajas System =/\=
The USS Caledonia eased to what could be called a halt as its crew was
jolted forwards in spectacular fashion. Its nose was not all that far
away from the side of the Zanzibar, like an untrustworthy dog smelling
something. The space around it eased, as though glad that the vessel was
going on no further.
Three decks tall and a portion wide, the Zanzibar's designers had clearly
been inept and modelled it on an ugly brick. McArnh observed, feeling
sorry for the old thing. It would be no use to anybody as a freighter
now, or as anything else than a shell.
On the outside were economic lumps, like small boxes that a child had
affixed to a cardboard model. The nose was similar to a person's - at
least, someone who had had a considerable amount of breakages.
Nearly alone on the bridge, he wandered to the Ops controls and started
to tinker. The grid plan of it showed countless red glows, bruises where
a system complained. He started to bring the life support systems back
online.
The computer's memory itself was more complicated. Several areas were
fried or garbled. He scanned through the cargo with what the Caledonia
could offer as sensors. There was certainly a fair amount of it, although
a lot looked like junk.
He walked back to the centre of the bridge. Suicide Cat tried to trip
them both up, but this was habitual now, and Grey avoided the animal
without second thought. The cat returned to sitting near the turbolift
doors in idle hope.
Somewhere a little way in the distance, the Typhon Expanse lingered.
Fortunately, they were far away enough that it seemed peaceful. McArnh
regarded it, and the ship in front of him, and folded his arms
suspiciously.
After a moment's consideration, he shrugged and went to sit down. "Never
mind," he muttered to himself, hovering his finger over the ship-wide
comm. It was half way through the late shift; most of them were probably
still in the bar.
"McArnh to senior staff. We have arrived at the Zanzibar. You will be
pleased to hear that there will be rather a lot of undocumented incoming
stock." He let those words hang in the air for a moment. "Monkfish,
Farlak. You will be responsible for compiling all incoming items.
According to records, the actual cargo contains some produce, some spare
parts - simple foreign commodities.
"Ops, Engineering. As always, prioritise what you can use to repair our
various technical problems. There may be working sections of their ship
that we can remove for our own benefit. Mister de Carabas, there may be
weaponary that can be plundered. I'm not sure what medical or scientific
supplies there will be, but any data is useful. Miss Lamarr, there may be
maps or even shuttle parts there.
"The vessel has been cleared by higher powers than us for boarding, so I
see no reason why that cannot occur straightaway. Don't all go at once.
McArnh out."
He pressed the comm off, and then on again.
"Monkfish. Since our recent conversation, it has impressed on me that you
are most adept with legal matters." He considered this remark. So soon
after their annulment she could not misinterpret this flattery, but it
was the easiest way of making her work.
"I wonder if there is a clause that allows us to butcher this vessel for
our own benefit, in light of the fact that our own ship is in such need
of supplies - which you can attest to, I am sure. Please find one. McArnh
out."
McArnh stretched lazily in the chair. At some stage he would go over, but
for now he was prepared to let them get on with it. He had several
reports still to write up, but they faded into the back of his memory.
After a
passed,
for the
himself
few minutes he realised that coffee was required. Then, as time
he realised he still couldn't be bothered to move, and reached
whisky fridge instead. For once he stopped himself, dragged
up and went on his tour instead.
He tripped over Suicide Cat on his way to the turbolift. The feline cried
ecstatically. He muttered something at it and entered the carriage,
wondering if the doors felt like shutting today.
=/\= Counsellor Dharma's Office - Starbase BoB =/\=
Arihana was whistling. Whistling as she walked into her office. So much
so it surprised Holly, the ECH who had appeared in a lilac stream. "Hol,
do me a favour. Cancel everything." The ECH looked at the counsellor. She
was either feeling renegade, or had finally come to her senses. "Please,
Holly. Cancel the lot, and I shall tell you all about it." Holly nodded
his head, to despatch whatever cancellations were required. Arihana sat
the opposite side of her desk to where she would normally, with Holly
taking up the counsellors swivelling seat. Arihana made herself
comfortable, planting her feet on the desktop. "Holly, I got a new toy.
His name is Peren."
Holly crossed his arms, what did she mean, new toy? "He's nice. Very
nice. Got the whole moody, manly mysteriousness thing goin' on." Holly
shrugged. Wasn't she meant to be learning, as opposed to ogling? Arihana
tutted, and laughed whilst nodding. "Yeah, yeah, but I'm only human, Hol.
Anyways, that's what gets me." The ECH arched an inquisitive brow, as
Arihana came over to lift him from his seat. "Yer man Peren, he's the
perfect gentleman. Fellas on this base could learn a whole lot..." Holly
was confused, confused as the counsellor proceeded to twirl the ECH
around, and start the Viennese Waltz or something similar. Maybe she was
reading to0 much into this, it was all a bit novel. With the whole new
world, new people, former husband who she wasn't quite over yet. "Ah,
schup, so over him, I'm seeing stars. No, this is alright, *he's* a bit
of alright."
At least her mood had improved, over the last couple of months, the
counsellor had more or less forgotten how to smile. "It's been good to
get off this base. Get out and out." Arihana winced, for a hologram,
Holly had big enough feet. "With fellas likes that Peren, erhm, hello,
get out and about more often." Holly was still not convinced, she knew
nothing about this peren. "That's the thing though, finding. Has nothing
to say about himself, it's all about me." The dance changed to a foxtrot.
"More interested in me. What else could a girl want? You know, Hol,
should really should change what you look like...ow, that hurt." Arihana
shook her foot, wouldn't change Holly for the world. "Holly, man,
wouldn't begrudge a girl a good time, now would you? Look at all the crap
I've had these last few months."
Holly was still playing devils advocate. This Peren chap may be a
psychopath or something. "Holly, married one, so I know what one looks
like." Ah, yes. Him. He would probably have something to say about it.
Arihana shrugged, still leading the ECH. "I'm supposed to care? I don't.
*Really*." Holly released the counsellor in a twirl. No good could come
of this. Some fine holiday romance, especially when there was work
involved. "Tch, holiday romance. I'm sorry, I'm mar-" Arihana stopped on
her heels near the chaise lounge. Holly was lean against the Counselor's
desk. Eyes narrowed.
"Well, all the more reason to have one."
Arihana returned to her desk. The right side. "He's interested. I guess
my professional curiosity is underpinned by my personal curiosity. But's
he's..."Holly gestured, for the counsellor to continue spinning this out.
" He's charming, he's cool headed, and boy, is he *smooth*. C'mon, Holly,
you wouldn't?" Holly wouldn't. Couldn't, he was an ECH, and by virtue of
cybernetics, not that way inclined. Arihana shrugged. Did she realise how
unprofessional it would be? Arihana nodded, to move the seat under the
desk. "yes, sir, no, sir, three bags full sir. Burst me bubble why don't
yer." Arihana picked up a stylus and twirled it like a baton. "It would b
easy, Hol. To do that. I could. But I won't." The counsellor reached
across her desk to roll towards her the black and white sphere. "You see,
holly, I like playing games." Holly sat in a seat. Why, what was she
going to do? Lull this fella in? Arihana nodded. "Get up close and
personal-"The ECH frowned. "No, smartarse, not like that."
She stopped moving the sphere between her arms. "Peren and his people,
they're interesting. As much as I like one of them, and I do. This is
about all of them." Holly still didn't follow. Cancelling all
appointments meant getting down to Faylinn more frequently. Going down
twice in an eight hour shift. All shuttles that came up, had to go down,
she wouldn't technically be breaking rules. "The more time I spend down
there, the less time spent avoiding power crazed parvis." Holly nodded.
So that was the plan over the next couple of weeks, to flit back and
forward to play with her new toy. Well, toys if you counted the people.
Holly asked what she thought about parvis being given the temporary
remit. Arihana shrugged, as she wrote up a report of her last meeting
with Peren. "What do I think? I don't think full stop. I'm a football
hooligan-remember." Arihana looked at the ECH. "Best of luck, break a leg
and worse things happen at sea." Arihana returned to the report. Trying
to decide whether or not she should include that interesting chat had by
the lake.
"Burden of Proof"
=/\= Argellius =/\=
The sunlight was staring to drop into shadows, and the room grew darker.
Mulder had been fending off solicitous enquiries all day, and was
starting to run out of polite phrases that suggested the Lord Jerillion
was spending the day in private mourning. The atmosphere was one of quiet
brooding, and Ron had barely spoken a sentence to her since they had
returned and he'd filled her in on the result of his interrogation.
She wanted to give him time to get his head around things, but at the
same time was uncomfortably aware of the passing of time.
Ensconced in the large overstuffed chair that she'd dragged over to the
window, Ron stared out into the garden. He hadn't moved much in the past
four hours; in fact, with the exception of the sounds of regular
breathing and the occasional shift of the body, he hadn't done much of
anything.
Unable to bear the silence any longer, Mulder wandered over to him and
rested her arms on the back of the chair. "How's it going, man of mine?"
she spoke over his head. "What's up?"
"Hmm?" He looked up at her, eyes bloodshot and bleary. "I'm sorry - what
was that?"
Moving round to perch on the arm of his chair, she leaned lightly against
him. "I said what are you up to? You haven't moved for hours, and you're
either going to ossify or astound me with some brilliant plan." She gave
him a friendly nudge.
"I've been thinking."
"Damn. That sounds dangerous," she grinned at him. "Let's hear it then."
He smiled at her, and held out a hand. When she fit hers into his, he
squeezed it gently, and then drew her closer. "I believe I've finally
realized what has happened. A power play has failed, and Grandfather was
forced to violently circumvent a coup being started - by killing Mother."
She nodded, "You know more about the politics of this place than I do, so
if that's your reasoning, I'm quite happy to go along with it. So he's a
murderer."
"And I'm going to accuse him of it."
"I should hope so! That'll sort the snide old bastard out."
He smiled wanly at her exclamation, and gently drew her into sitting on
his lap. As she rested her cheek against his head, he murmured, "It's
*so* much more complicated than just that, Mulder. In order to accuse a
member of a House, irrefutable evidence must be presented at the same
time as the accusation, or else those presenting the accusation can be
indicted with betrayal of the House - treason, for lack of a better word.
So the 'burden of proof,' as it were, lays within the responsibility of
the accuser, not the respondent."
"No problem there, then. We can do that straight away now we have the
proof."
"No. We can't - because I didn't 'obtain the confession in a legal
manner,' as the laws of Argellius and the Federation demand." He sighed,
a sound nearing a sob, and burrowed his head under the mass of hair that
fell over him, finding comfort within her arms.
"Then, I guess there's only one way of sorting things out beyond all
reasonable doubt," she said in a heavy tone, knowing this was the crux of
the matter, and hating the fact that she would have to be the one to
voice it. "You're going to have to find a way to autopsy your mother."
She felt him tense up, and
herself off the arm of the
grotesque thing to have to
you are the only person on
wrapped her arms tighter around him, sliding
chair and down onto his lap. "I know. It's a
contemplate. But it's the *only* way now - and
this planet who can possibly do it."
"Sorry. I sometimes forget."
"Forget what?"
"That I'm a Starfleet Doctor as well as a member of House
an Argellian, the sanctity of the dead is something to be
was very little grave robbing on Argellius, historically.
right." He sat back in the chair, gazing up at Mulder. "I
to find out, beyond a shadow of a doubt, what happened."
Jerillion. As
honored - there
But you're
owe it to her
"Yes," she nodded gravely, stroking his head, "I'm sorry, dearest, but
yes, you do, and this is the only way. We're almost out of time. Once the
ceremony is complete, the evidence will have gone forever."
He gently eased her out of his lap, and then stood up next to her. "We'll
just have to sneak into the burial chamber, and examine the body." He
stretched, shaking off the kinks and stiffness. "Tonight, after everyone
has retired, we'll tiptoe in, and I'll have a look."
There was no adequate response to the emotional enormity of what he was
facing, so she simply laid a hand on his arm and stood in quiet
contemplation with him.
=/\= Main Shuttlebay - Starbase BoB =/\=
"Passing through!" Frank Palmice called out. "Security business!" The
long line of people waiting for the - again - delayed shuttles to take
them to the surface for their own stints of relaxation, started bustling
from a clearly formed, orderly organized group, into arguing
monstrosities. As Frank and three of his Security colleagues behind him
pushed past, using Frank as the ice-breaker. "Out of the way!"
People stepped aside, curiously, annoyed, and plain angry. Shouts of
disbelief were followed by cries of terror, as other civilians, in line
behind them, stealthily moved forward too, as the ones before them were
uttering their grief to the Security crewmen. Not to mention the havoc
caused by the civilians who came all from the back, spotting the
opportunity and following the band of SEC personnel on their way forward,
sucked with them, in their wake.
The chaos was complete, and several small fights broke out, besides
various verbal assaults. This went to such a degree, that one of Frank's
colleagues, Fred Petrolli, wanted to sort some of them out, but it was
CPO Barker who held him back.
"We are off duty, that's an order," the man belched. Though the
appearance of this big fish in the small pond Barker was, was sooner to
laugh at - his tight-fitting sports swimming pants, probably bought in
better days, his heavy belly - barely obscured by a white T-shirt popping over the edge, and slippers on his feet, Petrolli took him
serious enough not to pursue it. Probably he was looking forward going
down to the planet too.
Frank straightened his pastel green suit jacket a little, wearing his
sleeves rolled up, and a black, unicolored, shirt fitting tightly across
his bark. Soon they cleared the fray of people, and found themselves
amongst the shuttles that were parked about the shuttlebay. Barker stood
wavering a little, until he spotted what he was looking for. His eyes lit
up and he waggled over to a certain shuttle.
"What's up his ass?" Cool Hand Luke inquired, his limp hand dangling
awkwardly from a shortened, pink sleeve, of a similar suit jacket Oswald
was wearing. His good hand put down a case of fishing tack and pole. Each
member of the small team was decked out with sunglasses, hats and various
accessories that would suit them very well on the beach and in the water.
"Beats me. I just want to get down there," Frank commented, casting his
glance with a slow turn of his head over the assembled mass of people,
and finally to Luke. "Why do you have those fishing gear with you
anyway?" he asked, slightly annoyed with this whole business. This
shuttle traveling was just bothersome; they should be beaming, for crying
out loud, despite the gruesome instruction video advising against it.
"You know your not allowed to take any animal back to BoB?"
"No-one ever said anything about roasting them, and eating them on the
beach for dinner," Luke said plainly. "Mark my words, there is nothing
like fresh seafood. Replicators have a common flaw in this respect," he
believed. "Fish is meant to be caught straight from the ocean, not meant
to be assembled by rearranged molecules. Ruins the taste totally!"
"Don't be daft; you have no taste," Frank snapped at him, with a sheepish
smirk.
"Damn! Guy's, are you ready to hit that beach, or what?" Petrolli
grinned, his white teeth shining like a row of ivory guards. His luggage
for the trip exsisted of a massive coolbox, filled to the brim with beer,
undoubtedly. The limitation on beaming not only hurt their personal
transportation; supply of beverages had to be sorted out too, and by the
reports about said drinks in the local bars, they were better off
bringing their own. "We gonna find ourselves some bodacious bimbettes,
and have ourselves a little bad to the bone shag-o-rama!"
"What the hell are you talking about?" Frank demanded, listening to Fred
babbling on nonsense. "What kind of speech is that?" Somehow, it sounded
familiar. "Don't be a dipstick," he decided on, muttering as he walked
off, to see what was keeping Barker, damn that man. He found him standing
at the loading door of the shuttle he was looking for earlier, looking at
something inside with great pride and joy, like a father looking fondly
at his son doing extremely well on a sporting event, or like a mother who
manages steals the boyfriend of her only daughter. Frank wanted to say
something, but as his eyes involuntarily followed the gaze of Barker. His
jaw almost dropped at what he saw.
"Isn't she a beauty?" Barker asked, nudging Frank lightly. That, she was,
Frank immediately agreed. Blinking in the artificial light of the bay and
the interior fixtures in the shuttle stood a true vintage reproduced
model of a red Corvette ZR cabriolet hovercar. It was as if she was
winking at Frank, inviting him to come and touch him - just like a woman
would, Frank exhaled. Provided he paid for her, of course. Without
waiting for approval, he stepped into the shuttle and let softly his
hands run over the bodywork. "You like that baby, don't you," Frank
whispered, petting the fabric of the seats.
"Excuse me?" Barker said, having popped up besides Frank unnoticed,
shocked at his comment, as if Frank was addressing him, instead of the
car. But he smiled when he saw Frank wasn't even paying attention to him.
"She is something else," he concluded. "That's real calf leather," he
remarked proudly, "They specially bred six calves for it, to work it into
the seating and wheel."
"What is holding up this show, you-...oh, my," could be heard behind
them. Barker turned, all beaming and nodded slowly, all-knowing at Fred
Petrolli and Cool Hand Luke. "It's a car!" he uttered, amazed. It was
indeed amazing, Frank agreed. Barker had must have saved for this thing
for a while, and also have a good hiding place to keep it, for him not to
have come across it once.
"How about I take this thing for a little spin?" Frank suggested lightly,
every fibre in his body ready to jump in the car, and drive it out
straight, never mind the stupid people still waiting for their blasted
shuttles! This baby was meant to be driven, and it had been way too long
since he was behind the wheel of one.
"Well...," Barker started, hesitating now, all of the sudden.
=/\= Surface =/\=
With a honking horn, the fluffy dice dangling from the rearview mirror
dancing in the wind, the Corvette shot out of the shuttle the moment the
gap of the loading door was down far enough to let them out. It surged
forward, and had Frank, behind the wheel, gasping with excitement. He
pushed in the throttle, feeling how she reacted instantly, surging
forward, soaring over the square where the shuttle landed. People, both
visiting and locals had to jump aside, some screaming and yelling BoB'ers - but Frank could have sworn seeing appreciating glances from the
local population.
He could have seen more, if this little woman wasn't so fast. Her engine
purred like a maniacal kitten, warming the hood and his heart. "Maybe a
little less fast," Barker tried, with a worried look, when Frank skidded
on a cushion of air through a particular tight corner to reach a paved
street leading to the outskirts of the town, the beach. His heartbeat
picked up a slight, feeling how lightly the wheel rested in his hands.
This was something! He pressed for more power, and she was eager to
deliver, sending the hovercar racing through the streets.
The three other passengers were in different states; in a certain corner,
Luke had lost the fight with both his stomach and the fishing pole he was
still holding the time they left the shuttle, but which was now dropped
somewhere, a few streets to their back. Thankfully they were in a cabrio,
making throwing up for the man easier, without fouling the car. Fred
Petrolli was in high spirits, cheering on, his hair waving in the wind, a
happy man. And Barker himself got redder and redder, until his face had a
shade to rival that of the car, eating himself out of worry for his
precious car.
But before he could make a final remark, and have Frank pulled away from
his driving position, Frank slowed the car down to cruising speed,
turning up on the broad sea-side boulevard. The sun, warm and bright,
greeted them as a friend, small wind feather clouds in the sky waved at
them cheerfully, and at their new speed - especially in relation to the
break-neck speed they were driving at before - they had the calmth to
enjoy their surroundings. And vice versa; small groups of young native
females - and event he sporadic male - signaled at them merrily.
At the former, Frank slowed down, so they could hear more of the words
they called out to them, and they could give them a better look. At the
latter, Frank picked up speed. It wasn't long until Frank parked the car
at the best spot on the boulevard, that they were beset by half a dozen
native girls - no skanks neither - who were clearly impressed with their
belonging, asking if they could touch it, or drive it. One by one, they
ended up on Frank's lap, holding the wheel whilst he was holding them,
letting them steer at walking-speed. The excited women wriggled their
petite bodies and made small noises of thrill.
Frank gave his place in the driverseat up for Barker, instead taking up
position at a nearby low wall, watching the setting sun. As the lines
grew longer, and the beer in the cooler ran out, Frank found himself
surrounded by two local girls, hanging on his shoulders and playing with
his chesthair as they chatted cheerfully about nothing. How could he ever
think their race disgusting, Frank thought, a little tipsy from the dozen
bottles of beer he downed over the last couple of hours? He put his arm
around them both, and led them away from the others.
=/\= Brig - Starbase BoB =/\=
A bank robbery. A thrice-damned fekking bank robbery. On his watch. Cade
didn't really want to be the base CO, but he was determined to have a
good go of it, if it was possible. And a bank robbery didn't fit into
those plans. As he got closer and closer to the holding cells, his mood
continued to sour; especially as he passed the interrogation rooms that
had figured so prominently in the recent past.
Cade walked into the cell area and looked at the security officer that
was on duty. The Caitian pointed one of her slim, clawed fingers to a
cell along the back wall. Cade nodded his thanks and walked down there,
dragging a chair with him. Once in front of Red's cell, he sat down,
crossed his legs and stared at the incarcerated pikey.
"Ahh here we go," Red uttered to himself, laying on the bunk with his
feet on the wall.
The marine said nothing and just stared, hard, at the young man.
Resting his hands behind his head, the Irishmen shifted to glance at the
man then rolled his eyes. "Bored?"
Slowly and evenly, Cade asked, "Do you know who I am?"
Red shrugged. "Sum Feddy sec-bod who's cum ta start pressin' me fer shite
i dun knows."
"Wrong. I'm the guy that can get you out of here and make all of this..."
Cade waved a hand to take in the cell and forcefield. "...go away." He
planted both feet on the ground and leaned forward. "But, you know how
this works, yeah? Nothing comes for free."
"Whoa, whoa..." He replied, reaching out his hands and sitting up on the
bed. "Look Mr. Marine, i know yers get lonely, i knows yers like to catch
yer man. But freedom or no, i ain't swingin' dat way." Red leaned back
against the wall and crossed his arms, "I heard dhere's sum pretty boys
on der scummy levels, i'm sure yer could play soldier wid dem."
"So that's the way you want to play it, yeah?" Cade stood and pushed the
chair off to the side. "I had been in a generous mood, but that's gone
now.
You've got one chance to start talking about the robbery or things are
going to get even more uncomfortable for you."
Red raised an eyebrow, this guy was a pervert or something. Nothing comes
for free, things getting uncomfortable, hello? "I dun 'ave nuthin' ter
say, i wusn't the tinker or der teif. All yer got was der grunt man, i
gots hired fer me brawn."
"Open the cell," he said softly. As soon as the forcefield dropped, Cade
was through the opening and had a hand clamped around Red's throat. His
muscles tensed as he slammed the thief back into the wall and held him
there. "I'm usually a very patient man." The marine's voice was barely
above a whisper. "But, I've had a very, very bad day. And pissing me off
right now is not the way to live a long and prosperous life."
The Pikey would have coughed if he could have, however the grip wasn't
exactly softly-softly. Not even bothering to wriggle, Red narrowed his
eyes and felt the air in his lungs slowly begin to disappear.
"The next words out of your mouth had better be some information about
the robbery." He didn't add an or else. Cade didn't need to. After what
he'd done to Lieutenant Cayke, slapping around a thief like Red would
barely be a warm-up.
That was ironic -although Red didn't know what irony was. He had to
speak, but couldn't form any words. So with a slight nod as his own form
of agreement, Red waited for the grip to loosen.
Cade relaxed his grip slightly. "Start talking."
"What's ter tell? Ferengi matey from the lower decks found me out one
night, sittin' in a bar and sippin' sum fine whiskey and der lark. Said
he had an idea an dat he needed anodher 'and ter make it work," Red waved
his hand, mimicking a drink. "I wusn't exactly wid it, if'n yer knows wot
i means, and agreed."
The Irishmen rubbed his neck slightly, "Next ting i knows i'm robbin' a
bank and den he runs off. Sneaky little bastard left me widout a bar, or
a chance. Den yer smart Feddy officers got me...Der rest yous know."
Cade listened to the story with patience. When Red was done, he smiled
slightly. "You know what, yeg? I believe you," he smoothly lied. Then he
tightened his grip again and brought a knee up into Red's stomach before
letting go. "And that was a reminder not to piss me off again." The
marine turned and walked out of the cell. "What did you see," he asked
the brig officer.
"See, sir?" She shook her head. "I was reading the latest SS&U. Oh, and
you should probably be aware that the surveillance cams in here have been
a bit quirky, gaps in the recordings, etc."
Cade nodded. "He's a patsy and doesn't know anything. You can release him
on bond until his hearing," he said loudly enough for Red to overhear.
Quietly he added, "Have Mr. Mattingly put little bastard under
surveillance." He turned and waved back at the cell. "Have a good day,
friend."
Dropping back on the bunk, Red angled a middle finger to the back of the
marine and then closed his eyes. "Fekkin' Feddies..."
=/\= The Bowels - Starbase BoB =/\=
Back in the bowels of the station, below the dozens of levels that
seperated the underworldy grunge from the promenade lesser-grunge sat a
Ferengi with a pile of wod bigger than he'd ever seen. "I'm rich...rich,
ahahah, RICH!" Reflected in wide eyes, the bars and bars of latinum
glinted in what little light filtered through the tiny porthole beside
him.
"Oh what could i get...? A ship, no...a house, oh a house. No, i can get
bigger. Maybe an island, an island on that planet down there, with a
giant bedroom and dozens, no, even more than a dozen, TEN! women seeing
to my desires!" He cackled before an idea popped into his little mind. "A
PLANET! AHAhaha, i could buy a planet!"
Before leaving the bank and all of the questioning, Violet had reassured
her young accomplice that she would meet the girl back at her quarters to
give her the money that was owed.
An hour later, Violet found herself creeping along the dark and dingy
corridors where her instincts led her. A little nervous regarding her
surroundings, she puffed away at the cigarette she kept close to her lips
when the faint sound of Ferengi cackling piqued her ear. Picking up her
pace, the cretin's scratchy voice quickly became louder until Violet was
directly outside the door of the gleeful cries. She stopped to listen,
just to make sure it was the same miserable sidekick she saw at the bank.
"Ah!" Krumble eyed the door to his room, someone was outside. There was
no knocking, but he could hear something; a faint shifting of footsteps
just beyond it. "I have to hide this, if someone found it i...i could be,
murdered." His own mind began to create scenarios and forced him to fear
whatever was - or wasn't - outside until he went pale. Well, pale-er.
Violet narrowed her eyes as her lower jaw jutted off to one side as she
could overhear the Ferengi talking to himself loud and clear. "Idjot,"
she mumbled to herself. There was no way she was about to let that smarmy
toad get away with the money that rightfully belonged to her...and Red.
Violet took in a deep breath as she backed up, raising her booted foot to
the door.
Suddenly feeling frightened that someone would steal what was rightfully
his, Krumble began to pack the latinum into a big brown bag. Something
inconspicous that wouldn't exclaim 'I'M STOLEN CURRENCY!" at a thousand
decibles.
Then, as the door burst open, he stopped and froze. Staring at a face he
knew; the woman from the bank.
"Gimme dat money, ya smarmy bastard!" Violet was ready to fight for the
money like a lion defending her young.
"Ah!" Quickly standing to his feet, he attempted to protect the loot with
raised fists. "I'm not a fighter, but i'll, i'll protect what's mine!"
Violet had to be honest with herself, which she rarely was. She couldn't
fight her way out of a wet paper bag if her life depended on it. Yet, the
power of greed propelled her body towards Krumble with her hands flailing
about like a windmill.
Slapping the nobby bald head repeatedly, Violet realized that it wasn't
enough to make the Ferengi go down as he tried hopelessly to get a hit
in. She thought about Red and what he would do. She'd have to give him a
good punch to the nose, but she was worried about breaking one of her
French Manicured nails.
Finally, something inside her spurred her on when she raised her left
hand in a fist and swung it hard at Krumble's nose.
Flying across the room and clattering into the few things that were
collected upon his single unit, Krumble flopped to the floor with a
whine; something akin to a deflating balloon.
"Ahh! Damn ya gots a hard noggen!" Violet winced as she rubbed her fist
in her right hand. "Thuts gunna swell!"
As she whined about her fist, it dawned on her that the latinum was freed
from Krumble's clutches and quickly dived for the bag.
He watched as the woman, who's name still escaped him, packed the
remaining bars into the large brown bag. "Can't i keep just a little?"
Violet grunted at Krumble as she hurried to pack the remaining latinum.
The sweating grime of the place was beginning to make her feel nauseas.
Suddenly feeling as dirty as the walls and flooring, she wiped her
forehead on a sleeve as she tried not to touch anything that wasn't
latinum or a brown bag.
Picking up the last bar of latinum, she surveyed the situation for
moment. The little weasel did get away with the money, which was more
than what Red was capable of. Glancing at Krumble then the bar and back
to Krumble again, Violet fought an internal struggle of overwhelming
greed. Finally, rolling her eyes "Ok," she sighed then tossed the bar
into Krumble's lap. "Dun say I never dun nuthin fer ya, ya nobhead."
With that, she quickly grabbed the brown bag and headed for the door. She
couldn't get out of the place quick enough.
And so sat Krumble the Ferengi, a man who'd come across a Pikey, been
given a chance to make a pile of cash and then been beaten up by another
Pikey. He vowed inwardly, he'd get back at Red - and this woman, and
every Pikey that stood between. S'long as they didn't want a fight...then
he'd have to hire some Klingons.
=/\= An'Rashok Military Barracks - Faylinn =/\=
Kyran's eyes were wide in surprise. "And she just left? And now you are
in charge of your people?"
"Yes, Deputy Regent, for the time being." Cade had returned to the
surface of the planet to continue the planning of the tactical exercise
and to get a tour of another Felim base. This time, Kyran had chosen the
barracks near the mountain 'city' of An'Rashok. The remote location was
extremely defensible and even the village it was near was laid out in an
almost military manner that would give an invading force fits in the
narrow alleys and the wide plazas.
"I don't mean to be indelicate, Major, but," Kyran paused for a moment,
"are all of the females of your species so, ahh, unpredictable?"
Cade smiled. "First of all, Captain Mulder is not the female of my
species.
At least not fully. Her father is human, like I am, however, her mother,
who she takes after mostly it would appear, is of a race called the
Jaz'Aarians. But to answer your question, yes. Men, of nearly every
species I've ever met, have been mystified over the millenia by the
actions of their women." He clapped Kyran on the shoulder. "And if you
can figure them out, then you're a better man than I!"
Kyran smiled, but didn't join Cade or the small party of marines in their
laughter. "Well, these are the mountain troops that I was telling you
about, Major. They are our best. Only after a stringent training regimen
and selection process are they allowed to even attempt the entrance
procedure for the Mountaineers."
"Impressive," Cade said, sounding like he meant it. All of the
Mountaineers were male, most were 2 meters in height or taller, and
thickly muscled. And they looked mean. They were the first soldiers he'd
seen that he thought might be worth a damn in battle.
"Thank you, Major..." He was cut off as they reached the far side of the
parade ground and Cade stopped to stare at the landing pad.
"That, Deputy Regent, is a thing of great beauty." Cade was staring at an
atmospheric military transport that to most people was anything but
attractive. It was blunt-nosed and stub-tailed with an obviously armored
two-man cockpit fronting a large cargo bay that was open on both sides.
At the fore and aft ends of the openings were tri-barrelled rail guns.
The matte gray and green paint on it's hull seemed to absorb the light
streaming from the sky.
=/\= 20 Minutes Later =/\=
"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
Cade grinned at the enthusiasm of the marine next to him. They were
strapped into the assault craft on the port side, facing the opening with
Cade at the forward firing position. The Felim pilot was streaking across
the tree tops and performing the occasional tight turn that left the
outward facing passengers staring at the ground.
As they came up to the air-to-ground firing range, the marines in the
bay, including Cade, locked and loaded the borrowed Felim weaponry. The
craft came in low and slow, giving them all a fairly easy time at the
targets on the ground. The ship rose and started to circle back around
for another pass when Cade pushed the button that activated the intercom.
"What was that, Chief?"
Even through the tinny reception, Chief Flight Officer Second Grade
Gerren, sounded confused. "That was a practice strafing run, Major."
"Well, let's do it again, Chief. But this time, do it like you mean it,
okay, not like your afraid of denting your dad's car on your first date.
This equipment was meant to be pushed to it's limits. If you can't do
that then I'll ask Deputy Regent Kyran to find me someone that..."
Cade was cut off as the craft accelerated violently and began a twisting
series of jukes and bobs that left most of the marines with their
stomachs in their throats.
"Approaching target, Major," was the only warning given as the ship
rocketed across the clearing, barely giving the marines time to fire.
Gerren stood the craft on it's nose and spun and rolled, giving the
starboard side of the craft a moment of stationary fire directly onto the
target below before he shot forward again in a rocking motion that
alternated the side of the ship facing the ground, and alternated the
firing pattern of the two sets of marines.
"NOW THAT IS WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT," Cade screamed into the intercom to
the smiles and shouts of his troopers. "I HAVE GOT TO GET US A COUPLE OF
THESE!"
=/\= Space =/\=
Staring into the limitless abyss of space, Eddie followed the beams of
phaser fire that started to surround his fighter. Verbumbum hadn't
reacted well to the news that he was 'borrowing' the fighter and had,
probebly fairly, ordered Barks and Azure to pursue the K-4 and bring it
back - whatever its condition.
So, in-keeping with wanting to live, Eddie did what he could to evade a
tragic end and got ready for a fight.
Jamming the stick forward, he threw the fighter into a sudden dive then
twitched it to one side; bringing the vessel into spiralling descent. As
the stars began to blur before him, Eddie relaxed his hand and brought
the K-4 into a steady flightpath. Now the fighters were above him and he
was quickly gaining on their position from below. Of course they weren't
blind, and soon the two enemy ships were angling towards him with speed;
again the phasers shredding across the Knight's nose like lightning.
Pulling the controls back, the K-4 started to roll upwards again;
shuddering as the forces pulled on its every nut, every bolt. Suddenly
Azure's fighter broke its forward motion and started to plummit. Eddie
noticed and turned the K-4 portward, escaping the blaze of fire that
burned violently and vertically.
Moving the fighter into a roll he broke
quickly as he'd escape the phaser bolts
and fired his own as they crossed paths
buckled under the few hits that bounced
controllable dive. One she could escape
to chase from.
quickly. Azure followed, and as
he turned back to where he'd been
of collision. Azure's Knight
off its hull and twisted into a
from, but one she'd not continue
That left Barks, a man who seemed less cocky than Azure but meaner on the
guns. He had attitude and something to prove. The beep of his fighter
started to blink on Eddie's sensor and immediately he ran through
possible scenarios. For a man dubbed Sleeper, he was suddenly more awake
than he'd been in months.
Barks was behind him and closing. Taking advantage of the Azure manauver,
he'd been able to hone in on Eddie's fighter and now had him firmly in
the sights of his phaser targeters.
Flipping the K-4, the El Aurian 'amateur' test-pilot burst to full
throttle impulse and headed back towards the SS Womble. Hoping Barks
would follow, he didn't shake the fighter or attempt to do evasive turns,
he simply ran a second collision course for the starship.
Barks took the bait and followed. Eddie didn't know what the man was
thinking, but surely he thought this was an easy kill - or stun whatever his intentions. There must have been barely fifty meters between
the Womble and the nose of his fighter, and leaving the space between the
ever smaller he awaited what he could only think to do.
Ten meters and closing, and Eddie jolted the fighter up, flopped it onto
it's stomach and dove once more. Barks trailed but before he could
initiate a similar move, the K-4 was approaching the canopy with enough
inertia to cause Barks to flinch.
Leaning into the dive, Sleeper truly became what a pilot should be, and
faced the possibility of no return. The fighter below - and before - him
span suddenly; Barks was trying to get out of the way.
Eddie pressed the fighter to its limits and pulled up at the last minute,
letting Barks' Knight to flip and roll until it hit the Womble's hull
with a bump and a smash.
The K-4 craned and put it's nacelles to the ship and its pilots,
Verbumbum and Azure, and with a single click, Eddie vanished in a blink
of red light.
=/\= 3 Hours Later - Kajas System =/\=
Bursting forth in a cacophony of trembles and rattles, a small fighter
with the words 'Fear No Fear, Unless It Has A Moustache' painted across
its side slowly streamed its away towards two stationary ships in the
distance. The bright lights of the K-4's thrusters pushed it along until
the pilot within could make out the details of the foremost ship. One
that seemed slightly discoloured, and battered, and a little shaky. One
he was familiar with and one he'd tracked via three stops in no-mans
space, three re-calibrations of long-range sensors, and three wrong
turns.
Finally he'd found the Caledonia...and the big brown block of a ship
nestling beside it. Depressing the comm button, Eddie took a breath and
spoke into the helmet-mic, "Knight three-one-zero-three to Caledonia...do
you read?"
=/\= Science Labs - Starbase BoB =/\=
Mysteries upon mysteries. It was the usual way of things when living on
BoB.
How did you know that you had been on BoB to long?
The mysterious that came out began to surprise you less and less, that's
how. Or so Paxan Brey thought as she stared into the viewfinder of her
primary scanning suite.
She shook her head and looked back into the scanner, making sure that
what she was seeing was actually there and not just her imagination
playing tricks on her.
Paxan stood up straight again and bit her lip. Taking a moment to collect
her thoughts, she tapped her comm console and spoke.
"Computer begin log entry, Chief Science Officer's log, Stardate:
240604.11;
I have made several trips down to the planet Faylinn and spent some time
among the locals. In general, they have been kind, considerate and very
helpful. On my first outing, I was introduced to a botanist named Merith.
She, along with my bodyguard were given a very interesting tour where I
was able to take detailed scans of various wildlife. It is not from these
scans that I find much interest though.
On my most recent excursion to the surface, I encountered another Felim
who was very helpful. Coincidently, this time it was Merith's brother,
Sanel that I met. I took the opportunity to take intense scans as well as
actual rock and core samples for study on BoB. My analysis has apparently
asked more questions than it's answered.
The core and rock fragments, through a variety of geological,
metallurgical and carbon dating examinations lean towards the fact that
the age of this planet and it's current civilization are somewhere in the
billions of years old range. Secondly, from distribution of larger rock
masses, multi-spectral scans and orbital imaging analysis, it would seem
that at one time in the distant past, the civilization on Faylinn covered
most of the planetary surface which is inconsistent with the relatively
small population that inhabits the planet now. Some of the samples
indicate that there might possibly have been a civilization prior to
those of the Felim or that at one time they were a much larger culture
than what we've come to know but this is still unsubstantiated."
Paxan sighed and rubbed her eyes, trying again to pull her thoughts
together as she mentally processed the information swimming in her head.
"None of this makes sense ofcourse because every indication that we have
of current Felim society is that it is over a billion years itself and
none of the local's I've spoken to have ever mentioned anything about
this. I am scheduled to go back to the planet this afternoon and will
endeavor to answer some of these questions. End Log."
Sending the message into the queue of what seemed like a mountain of
officer duty logs, Paxan signaled Drake Bastian. As acting 2nd XO, Paxan
had been given the authority to return to Faylinn whenever she felt like
it and that time was now. She wanted more answers and she knew exactly
who to ask.
=/\= Planet Faylinn =/\=
Drake Bastian sighed happily and shaded his eyes against the warm sun
that brightened the sky of Faylinn. He and Paxan Brey had returned to the
surface and found their way to this small café that lined a side street
of the capitol city. It was a quiet avenue that was close to the outer
gate that the pair had walked through when they first went to check out
the wilds of the planet with Merith some days earlier.
Now, the Starfleet officers sat across from each other and talked while
they waited.
"I'm telling you, Lieutenant, his hair is dark...like black or
something," he said with a chuckle, "You must have imagined it."
Paxan Brey shook her head and sipped on a glass of water that had been
brought by a kindly old waiter, "You've lost your mind, I'm telling
you...it was like a blue-green color...I'm almost positive!"
"The sun was probably blinding you," he countered with a grin, "I
guarantee Sanel's hair is dark."
Just as Paxan was about to pinch her bodyguard, a pair of Felim's
approached. A male and female who were known to the off worlders and who
they had been expecting, "We hope we're not interrupting anything," said
Sanel who was smiling sweetly at Paxan as he ran a slightly scared hand
through his straight *dark* hair.
The Felim woman, Merith sat down at an empty table and smiled at Paxan
and Drake as she watched her brother with asmussement. She knew him well
and could tell he had become smitten with the newcomer.
"No, you're not interrupting," Drake as he grinned triumphantly at Paxan,
"Lieutenant Brey and I were just discussing how easy it is to imagine
things that aren't there. Nothing major," said Drake as he noted the dark
hair on Sanel's head - he had been correct and Paxan had been wrong. He
would make sure to rub it in later.
The Felim twins, Merith and Sanel looked at each other and then at Paxan
and Drake with a hint of confusion. It was obvious that they had no clue
as to what was going on.
Giving Drake the evil eye, Paxan changed the subject quickly, "Don't mind
him he's not getting a lot of sleep lately," she said with a smile that
hid her bruised pride at having been wrong about such a minor detail.
Letting it go, she leaned into the table towards the Felim, "Thank you
for meeting us. I know you're probably very busy with your every day
lives."
"It is no problem at all," insisted Sanel as he glanced at Paxan like a
love-sick puppy, "We're happy to help in any way we can."
And Merith added, "Yes, what is it we can do?"
Paxan nodded with a smile and set a small PADD on the table, pushing it
gently towards the Felim, "It has to do with the readings I took from the
rock masses and Faylinn's geographical samples. The readings were very
interesting and quite frankly...confusing."
Merith read over Paxan's report and nodded several times. As a scientist
herself, Merith had very little trouble in understanding the terminology
but didn't exactly look too interested. After several minutes of reading,
Merith set the padd down and looked towards Paxan, "I understand what
you're saying here...now what is your question?"
The young woman tried to hide the surprise in her voice. For anyone who
read the proof, the question should be blindingly obvious. "The question
is do you know about any prior civilizations on Faylinn in the past
billion years or so?"
Merith sighed and shook her head, "No, just our own," she said passively
as if she couldn't be bothered with the mystery. "What you see here, is
how it's been for countless ages."
"Then what do you make of this evidence that there was once a much larger
population on Faylinn, a population that covered the entire planet?"
Again, Merith looked uninterested, "Puzzling indeed," she said with a
shrug, "To be completely honest I have no idea but my interest really lie
in plants, not old rocks and people."
"Oh," said Paxan feeling completely stunned by her lack of interest,
"Well...then I guess that's that."
Smiling broadly, Merith stood from her chair, "Well, sorry I couldn't be
more help but I have to get back to my greenhouse. If you have any
questions about our plant life then don't hesitate to contact me, okay?"
Nodding, Paxan forced a smile back, still feeling the oddness of the
situations, "You bet."
Still seated, Sanel rested his elbows on the table and gazed at Paxan.
His expression was sincere and charming. If she hadn't been so rattled by
the complete lack of interest from Merith, the young woman might have
been flattered by what was apparently a new admirer. Sanel was a sweet
person and to say she wasn't flattered would be a lie, especially after
everything that had been going on with Felix lately. Getting more than
the usual attention from Drake and now Sanel was very much appreciated.
Unfortunately, this was the completely wrong time for any of this. Along
with her duties as 2nd XO and chief Science Officer, Paxan had unearthed
a strange new mystery.
Mystery upon Mystery.
Paxan was beginning to hate them.
"Truth of the Dead"
=/\= Argellius =/\=
A pair of shadowy shapes darted down the dark hallway, gliding silently
along the walls until they came to the large door at the end of the
hallway. A few scratching sounds followed by a click revealed Mulder's
face, dimly lit by the lights of the tricorder in her hands.
Checking thoroughly, she reported "All clear." Then, after studying the
readouts again, she added, "There's a power source behind this door. I
think we've come to the right place." After a few attempts at opening the
door, she sighed, "Locked, of course. But nothing a bit of good old
fashioned breaking-and-entering can't fix."
With a grin she produced a small but sturdy iron jemmy. "Don't ask..."
she whispered with a wicked chuckle, and set to work. It took barely a
moment before the door yielded to Mulder's expert onslaught, and she
moved cautiously through, checking the interior again before beckoning
Ron to follow.
Sliding in behind her, Ron closed the door quietly behind them. The large
room was darkened, lit only by the glow of a fairly large tube in its
center. The glass sides revealed the contents; a woman lie on her back,
face serenely composed, hands crossed over her stomach. Age had touched
her, but gracefully - the few wrinkles on her face suggested lines
created by laughter and smiles, not age. Her dark hair lay fanned
underneath the dark green dress, traditional for mourning within the
culture. He paused at the tube, lifting a hand as if to touch her, eyes
wide and scared.
Coming up silently behind him, Mulder was caught for a moment in the
enormity of what they were about to do. Her eyes were drawn to the figure
lying so cold and still inside her tomb. This woman - when she had been
alive and breathing and warm - had given birth to Ron. Had been the first
woman to see him smile, and walk, and hear him speak. Under different
circumstances, Mulder would have been happy to meet her - to thank her
for bringing this wonderful man into the world. Now, it seemed a
travesty, a crying shame hat it had come to this. Her pulse quickened in
anger at the wickedness of the evil deed, and her resolution to bring the
murderer to justice hardened into a cold, deadly certainty.
Seeing Ron hesitate, and sympathizing, she nevertheless whispered in his
ear, "We have to hurry."
He jumped at the sound of her voice. "What?"
"Sorry. I said, we have to hurry." She squeezed his arm in sympathy, not
knowing quite what to say to comfort him. All she could manage was "She
was a lovely woman. At least she looks. peaceful."
"Mmm. Yes, she does." He studied her for a moment, and then sighed. "I
was wrong."
"What about?"
"Wrong not to have contacted her. Wrong not to have let her know that I
was doing well." He waved a hand at the tube, eyes tight, voice clenched
in sorrow. "I haven't seen my mother since I was sixteen years old - and
the first time that I see her is after she's died. Tell me *that's* the
sign of a good son."
Closing her eyes tight shut for a moment, Mulder wondered what she could
say to make him see things differently. "It wasn't like that, Ron. And
you know it. You shared sixteen years, together, facing a damnably
difficult situation, and you were always there for each other. What would
have made her happier, do you think? Knowing you were suffering every day
under the mantle of enforced servitude, growing old and miserable and
lonely? Or following the path of freedom, finding out for yourself who
you were, what you were capable of, and living a life that was full and
free? That's what every mother who loves her child wants - for them to be
happy and free."
For a moment her face clouded as the personal significance of her words
hit her. Maybe she would never know that, personally. If things had been
different...but now was not the time to be selfish, she told herself. Now
was the time to concentrate on Ron's problems, not her own miseries.
She drew a breath, and continued, "She loved you, and that bond would
have stayed in place. She would have known, and felt, that you were still
alive out there. A mother *always * knows. And she would have rejoiced,
every day, knowing you were free of the fate that awaited you here. I'm
quite certain that she could have tracked you down if she'd have chosen
to. Even with the situation as it was, she was *your * mother, so she
must have been a resourceful woman. But she didn't - because she knew the
dangers it might place you in. She gave you the gift of freedom - be
thankful for it, as she was thankful for you."
He smiled, and covered her hand with his. "Thank you." He wanted to say
more, but there was nothing to say - nothing that would come out
properly, at least. Instead, he turned to the control panel on the stasis
tube. After a few moments poking and prodding, he announced quietly "Got
it. C'mon, now. No. there, that's - no! Damned machine - open!" Finally,
with what almost seemed a sigh of defeat, the tube's seal cracked, and
quietly rose into the air. A few wisps of smoke trailed off, making the
scene in front of them all the more like a fairy tale.
"Better." He muttered, opening his medical case. He selected the medical
tricorder and a hand-held probe. He began in-depth scan, mind already
detached into a more clinical mode as his mind began processing the
information that the 'corder presented to him. And as he continued,
something began to bother him. "Something's not right here." he muttered
to himself.
"Huh?" Mulder gave a worried start, afraid that some alarm had been
triggered somehow. "What do you mean?"
"Hm?" He looked up from the tricorder at Mulder. "Sorry. Talking to
myself. How's the situation outside?"
"Still clear. But anyone could come by at any second." She looked at him
seriously, the unspoken urge in her eyes to hurry, hurry, hurry.
"Good. Shouldn't be much longer." He returned to the scanning, face stiff
as the screen played multiple colors across his face.
Alternately peering carefully up and down the corridor outside, and
checking with her tricorder, unwilling to trust either technology or
plain eyesight fully one hundred per cent, Mulder still managed to keep
an eye on Ron. She could barely imagine what he must be going through,
and seemed to feel the shock and sorrow and fury inside him. She shook
herself. Jaz'Aarians don't get "feelings" she told herself firmly. They
have instinct, and read body language. Yes, that was it; she was reading
his body language all too clearly.
Suddenly, there was a dramatic change in his posture. She dare not leave
her post, but watched in dismay as his face sagged, and he cropped the
hand holding the tricorder to his side. "Ron," she hissed urgently,
"What's the matter?"
"I." He stood staring, face whiter than usual, mouth open in shock. "I
just can't believe it."
"Believe *what*?"
He turned to her, face drawing away from it's stunned expression down
into anger. "Creator *damn* the man!" he whispered. Jerkily, he began
stuffing the tools back into the bag.
"What the hell is happening?" she insisted, wondering how anything could
be worse than death itself. "Ron, for Ethiks sake, speak to me."
"C'mon. I'll tell you about it - but not here."
=/\= Space =/\=
The woman approached the store front with apprehension. It needed done,
better yet, she needed done. Stepping up to the small desk, she was met
by a woman that reeked French femininity. This woman was amazing to
Savannah, and had Savannah been turned on by women, this one would have
done it for sure. Big doe eyes met her emerald hued eyes for a mere
second, and then softly replied. "Come vith me." McAlister sighed, she
felt instantly out of place.
Couture
and her
led her
What it
guard a
and feminine she was not. Her nails were bit, her hair scraggly,
uni brow was bordering on crawling off her fore head. The woman
to the "special room" that resembled nothing like a calming spa.
did resemble was a medical bay, which frightened the security
bit.
Doors opened again, this time a somewhat over the top woman entered.
"Savannah! I'm so glad to see you!" Taking her by the air, the woman
looked her up and down. "God, dear...where have you been...under a rock
for the past five years?" Leading her over to a screen, she shoved her
behind it and ordered her to "Undress dear."
"Completely?"
"Why yes completely!" The woman laughed boisterously. "Hurry now dear, we
have enough work on you to keep us busy for a year."
"Oh great." Came the curt reply.
Once completely in the nude, Savannah came out from behind the screen.
"What's the point of having one of those anyway?"
Helga chuckled. "Absolutely none what so ever. Now...hop up here."
McAlister eyed the cold table in the center of the room with a disdain.
"Hopping" was something the security woman did not do unless it meant
hopping up to kill something with a phaser. Crinkling her nose, she
proceeded to sit on the table. To her surprise, the table was warm.
Reclining, she watched as Helga's assistant brought something waxy out.
Inserting a stick into the substance, she extracted the goo from the jar
and bent over to place it near McAlister's unmentionable.
"HEY!"
The assistant recoiled in fright as Helga came to the rescue. "A lady
never yells." She stated calmly.
McAlister just glowered at her. "For your information, I'm no lady."
"Obviously." Turning her attention back to the goo, Savannah pointed.
"What's that for?"
"You stated you want the whole package."
"Well, yeah...but I'd prefer to keep some wrapping in place."
"Now honey...come on...a Brazilian wax doesn't hurt that much."
"Much being the operative word here...Go ahead."
Nodding to the assistant, Helga reached out to hold McAlister's hand.
"God." She moaned as she felt the 'stuff' ooze on her. Next, the
assistant placed what felt like cloth on the goo.
The sound that cut through the air of the promenade next could only be
described as if someone had opened the seventh layer of hell.
"There...that is finished." Helga tipped her head to the side. "Looks
nice too."
"Well, it feels like I've been ripped to shreds."
"All beauty comes at a price dear."
Savannah pulled her feet over the side of the table. "Yeah, and from what
you charge..."
Grinning, Helga motioned McAlister to head over to the machine that
looked like a Borg assimilator. Cocking her head to one side, Savannah
didn't move.
"Tanning dear, then we works on the rest of you."
In the booth, the red glow of the lamps relaxed her to a point. She
recalled her initial meeting with Palmice, and part of her wondered what
he was doing at this moment in time. Mix a guy, with beer, and a beach,
and the combination could be deadly. Hell, mix Savannah, beer, and a
beach and the combination could be down right cataclysmic. She grinned
slightly. Her next stop would be locating him on the planet and having a
little "chat" with him. For that, it shouldn't take too long and her
uniform would be appropriate enough. No sense giving the boy a heart
attack on their second meeting.
'DING'
"Okay, outcha go." The busty woman arched an eyebrow as Savannah exited
the both of color. Nodding her head, she motioned to the screen. "You can
get dressed now."
"Thank god." McAlister muttered. Turning, she went behind the screen that
was basically useless and came out in a minute, fully dressed in
regulation uniform.
"Don't be thanking god yet, I'm not done with you."
Motioning towards a chair, McAlister was silently ordered to sit. Three
more hours passed as she was plucked, primped, and salacked. She didn't
feel like herself, she felt like a painted cow. The three hours gave her
plenty of time to reflect on her life so far. It wasn't much of one at
all.
Perhaps, as Vaughn had stated, Bob could be her saving grace. Snorting,
she wondered how much fun behaving would actually be.
"Finished."
McAlister's interest was perked. "Really? Finally?"
Helga stood in front of her, with one hand on the chair ready to turn it
towards the mirror. "I have out done myself this time." The pride in her
voice was as abundant as her breasts. Spinnning the chair around,
Savannah came face to face with the woman that she was meant to be.
"Wow." The woman that glanced back at her was polished and fine. Gone was
the pitiful excuse for a woman and in her place was a female that any
male would be proud to call her his.
"Your boyfriend will be happy." Helga clucked with a certain contentment.
"I don't have one." She chided back.
"You will soon."
"Highly doubt it. No man alive could put up with my crap." Arching her
eyebrows, she slid out of the chair and headed to a shuttle to find a
certain male.
=/\= Shuttlebay - Starbase BoB =/\=
Newly found as a hive of activity, Felix wilted sweatily at the
congregation of people. Several landing papers and scrawled signatures
later, he wondered when it would stop and he could go and have a drink.
The thought was never far from his mind.
From a near-view window he could see the planet below, where in half an
hour another transport would tear upwards, ending the four-hour sanctuary
for certain BoB inhabitants, many of whom would be reluctant to leave. He
muttered something to himself and nodded blithely to any familiar faces.
A certain familiar face that probably at some point haunted his dreams
materialised. "Your enthusiasm for work is overwhelming, de l'Isle," Yus
Omar remarked drily, a comment provoked by observing him pace restlessly
within a 3-foot radius.
"Ah, Omar. Nice to see you back in your own colours. Although I hear that
white might be more the thing for you at the moment." Felix folded his
arms. "Unless the engagement has been annuled over issues of chocolate
and our fearless leader?"
"Hardly," Omar retorted. "Chocolate will be the theme of our wedding and
our fearless leader," she cleared her throat pointedly to express her
disapproval, "is invited to share in our joy."
"I'm sure you weaned it out of him most subtly," he muttered. "An art in
which you master."
"I've mastered everything," Omar said airily. "But do tell, how is life
treating you?" She studied his face and expression.
"Fine, thanks." He ignored her, grumbling along. His head was sweaty and
a couple of drops splashed down onto the console. For the most part Felix
tried to forget that he was under the scrutineering eye of Yus Omar.
"Overworked and underpaid." It was his usual answer.
"Aren't we all?" Omar agreed. "But the weather is not all that warm and I
don't think I'm intimidating enough to make you sweat like that." It was
more of a question than a statement.
"Atmospheric conditions. Heats up the cockpit. Too much coffee." Felix
muttered over various whirrings from the computer. He was changing the
schedule to try and get out earlier for the day.
Omar looked a little concerned, but quickly hid it. "Are you okay?"
"Fine." He closed his eyes, holding them closed firmly. "There's just a
lot to do."
The pilot in front of her was anything but okay. Omar thought quickly. "I
could use a drink. When do you finish with this madding crowd?"
"You? Omar? Inviting me out for a drink?" It was an expectable quip, but
there was a bit of a sadness in his eyes that negated it. "There's an
offer you don't refuse."
"Then let's go," Omar was anxious to get to them bottom of it.
"Give me a minute." It was taking something out of him to concentrate on
the screen, but he was nearly done. He tried to pick up where he left
off. The words danced slightly in front of him.
Dear God, thought Omar, he's in worse shape than I ever thought. She was
thankful she'd sent Baxter off with Nameless, MacDougal and Cherub, not
expecting to run into de l'Isle. "You can do it later, Felix," she told
him.
"No, just let me finish," he growled, tapping away at the last few
symbols on the screen. "Didn't think you were much of a drinker, anyway.
Where do you want to go?"
She hadn't thought about that. Racking her brain, she suggested, "How
about Coda?"
"One of your places. Not one of mine." There had been a big fight in Coda
the night before over someone trying to scam free flights. He had
refused, as had the bar chair he'd been holding. He didn't want to go
back there in the next twenty-four hours - for once.
She clenched her teeth in annoyance. "Fine. We can go anywhere *you're*
comfortable with."
"Somewhere that isn't on the Lower Promenade," he clarified, waiting for
the computer to catch up with his roundabout machinations.
"Alright. Are you done?" She tapped her foot impatiently as she waited
for him to finish up.
He slapped his hand on the screen. "Yes, sorry to hold up your timetable.
Come on, let's go then." Felix marched out a few paces ahead of her,
shouting something across the bay to one of his subordinates.
Omar uncharacteristically trailed behind, not saying a word. Ordinarily
he'd have received a tongue lashing but this time there was some
vulnerability about him that tugged at her.
"So what is it you want? Something on your mind?" He said this with a
huff. He didn't know what he had to do with Omar's personal problems,
except for garnering them as a source of gossip.
She hesitated before speaking, wondering if she was too hasty in
confronting Felix with his problem, whatever it was. "You don't look too
good," she said quietly.
"Me?" He snorted. "Don't be ridiculous. If you're going to join the gang
of people that asks why I'm tired, then look at my schedule and bug off
again."
"This is definitely more than tiredness. Is something bothering you? Work
...personal relationships...?" Omar flailed desperately, grasping at the
wind at what might be the source of Felix's distraction.
Felix glared at her as they took the lift. "I see. So, what's Paxan been
telling you?"
"This is not about Paxan, Felix," Yus replied firmly. "This is about you.
I don't know why I haven't noticed it before, but you've definitely
changed."
He exhaled mutinously. "No, I haven't." He folded his arms. "If you hung
around me more often, you'd see that." Not, of course, that she would
want to.
"Yes, you have," she flatly contradicted him. "You looked so...listless
at the last meeting. You used to be so full of zest for life."
The lift stopped and they left. He frowned inexplicably at the lighting
on the Promenade, ignoring the irony of what she had just said. It was
too bright and colourful.
"I'm still full of zest for life," he said, with paramount tones of the
opposite. "It's most that life doesn't have much but pips in it at the
moment."
She stopped outside the Abode and surveyed it before turning to Felix and
said, "Shall we?"
Felix huffed as they went in. A couple of the BoBCats loitered, propping
up the bar. He nodded to a holowaiter, who, if he accessed his memory
data, might recognise the chief pilot.
He pointed disheartenedly at a table. "That'll do. Unless you want to
discuss either your or my private life at the bar."
Omar cast him a glare that could freeze hell over.
"Thought not." He took a chair. Any sense of chivalry was long gone. "A
strong Long Island," he asked of the attendant light-trickery, who
nodded.
"And whatever she wants."
"Today's special," she requested. When they were alone, "Aren't we the
gentleman?" she dripped with sarcasm.
"Be grateful. Besides, you invited. You pay." He shrugged and leant back,
resting his feet on the table supports. "So."
"So what?" Omar was still riled.
"Apart from burrowing through my private life, of course, I expect you've
been pretty busy. Have you started using your nearly-marital status to
access the security cameras yet? You'd be able to follow my movements
much more easily." Felix scratched at a loose bit of the tabletop and
glared at her, somewhere between bored and irritated.
"Felix," she began in clipped tones, enunciating every word as if he were
a
5 year old, "I have better things to do with my life than monitor your
movements. In fact, you're so predictable, I can bet I can find you in
some bar after work every day."
Felix shrugged, defiant. "Along with most of the rest of the crew."
She continued, ignoring him. "And you probably get back completely wiped
out in the morning."
"If I get back at all." It wasn't far from the truth.
"You're alcohol-dependent, aren't you?" she asked sadly.
"Aren't we all," Felix said, with a hazy grin.
"No. I'm not. And I can think of 50 other people on this base that I know
who aren't."
Felix figured that this was a safe tack to keep her on, so let it
continue. "Say I'm drinking a bit more lately. Is that the reason for
this particular natter?"
"Well, I'd like to discourage you from this particular habit of bingeing
before you completely overload and kill yourself."
He allowed a sharp intake of breath. "I'm nowhere near overloading. A
man's allowed to be stressed out by his job."
"Yes, he is, but it's preferable he doesn't kill himself stressing out."
She glared at him. "If you get what I mean."
"Let me summarize," he said, not lowering his voice as the waiter
delivered the drinks, left the bill and scurried away. "You brought me
here to give me an ear-bashing. I thought I should give you the courtesy
of informing you it's not working."
"Then tell me what will, because you desperately need help, Felix."
Felix wasn't really listening. He felt suddenly queasy, a spell he had
noticed coming on more lately. Out of nowhere his stomach would moan and
behave like he hadn't eaten in days, with a sudden pain that made him
catch his breath. He sat upright afterwards, ignoring the incident
completely.
"What?" he asked, by way of requesting that she repeat herself. It came
out as a snappy bark.
Yus watched him, aghast at how ghostly grey his face had become, and the
leathery lines snaking across. He'd never looked this old or haggard
before. Where was silly old Felix, the one who annoyed her crew, made
silly jokes, checked out girls and basically loved being himself?
The man in front of her was a complete stranger. A tired, ill stranger.
"Never mind," he said, crossing tracks of thought, as though it had been
him that brought something up in the first place. He sipped at his ice
tea.
"Are you on anything more than alcohol, Felix?" she asked him upfront.
She was certain he wouldn't tell the truth, but they were close enough
for her to read his body language.
"Donuts? Kebabs?" Felix's pupils had expanded like an over-stretched
piece of cloth, and his jaw was set on edge. "Drop it, Omar."
"You're on drugs," she whispered in horror.
Felix crossed his arms. "Think what you like, woman."
His defensive body language confirmed that she'd hit the nail on the
head.
It suddenly made sense. The irritability, the ill-health, his perpetual
relationship issues. He'd always been a pain, but a tolerable one. She'd
never admit it, but she enjoyed the banter and insults which were
inevitably exchanged - she even enjoyed being teased by him. "You need
help," she repeated for the umpteenth time that day.
The pilot sagged in his chair. "Fine, Omar, think whatever you like. Then
tell it to Vadai and let the whole station hear about it. You know what?
I really don't care." It sounded more general than a musing on a state of
gossip.
"Do you really?" asked Omar, "Or are you just fed-up with the way your
life has turned out?"
"I can give you a list of things I'm fed up with." He sounded venomous.
Felix sucked some more of the cocktail out of the glass. "But you
probably know them all already, so what's the point?"
The end of the question was choked as something below him rumbled
aggressively.
"The point is you *can* get help. But you must want the help, otherwise
it's all futile," she said earnestly.
The sigh was drawn out. "If you want to get me into the infirmary, you'll
have to sedate me and drag me there. And I'd dare you to try and get
close enough."
She was in a quandry. Omar was torn between reporting him to the relevant
authorities and dealing with the relevant repercussions which could
include a demotion or a jail-term. And yet, not getting him the help he
needed but was oblivious to could cost him his life.
"I won't, Felix," she said with dignity when she had finally decided.
"It's your life, and your decisions to make. But if you need someone to
talk to or lean on, you know where to find me."
Felix eyed her, still catching his breath. He didn't go to speak. He
regarded Omar for a moment and then leaned back in his chair, gazing
across the room as if nothing existed.
She stood up and keyed in the credit for her drink and Felix before
wondering if she was inflicting harm on him by asking him out for a
drink.
Without a word, she walked out of Abode.
=/\= Main Operations - Starbase BoB =/\=
"Tractors?"
Jack Angel sat at his console and scrolled through the new "orders" that
had been sent to him by the acting XO, Lieutenant Parvis Maru. He didn't
know what the hell this was all about, but he assumed that a Counselor
would be more stable than this. Then he remembered where he was and
wondered why he expected the man to be anymore stable than the rest of
the staff.
He opened the orders and appended his own message to it, and programmed
it to be sent to all Operations personnel. The message read "These socalled orders are to be ignored. This department has better things to do
with it's time than scanning for farm equipment. Any future orders are to
be ignored as well, unless counter-signed by Major Vaughan or until such
a time as I'm convinced that he's not an idiot."
Jack filed the orders under "crap" and turned back to what had become his
obsession, the mystery planet. As it had been since the day it appeared,
the bloody thing was displayed on his screen. He stared at it, as he did
most days, and waited for it to up and disappear...but it never did. It
just sat there, in space, with this annoying solidity about it.
Unlike pretty much everyone else on the station, Jack had yet to venture
down to the surface. The idea had begun to creep up in his mind a few
times now, but he kept forcing it back down again. There was a very
primal instinct tapping away at the back of Jack's brain telling him not
to go down there, and Jack had long ago learned to pay heed to those
instincts.
His eyes ran over the details of the planet, picking out the now failure
landmarks. He watched the atmosphere twist away below him, and the clouds
float by. The few communications satellites in orbit gleamed in the
sunlight...
Jack arched an eyebrow and focused his attention on the satellites. They
were fairly simplistic devices, standard for the technology level of
these people. Most likely they emitted radio signals in every
direction...
"Computer, access the sensor logs from the time the planet appeared to
today. Analyze and isolate all comm signals from the orbital satellites."
The computer bleeped to indicate it had crunched the digital numbers and
spit out the required info.
"Collate the data into standard communications protocols and display on
my screen."
Again the computer bleeped, and this time it spit out a nice neat table
with several categories based on signal frequency and specific word
association, such as personal communiqués and computer signals, etc. Jack
leaned in and began to scroll through the list...
The first thing that struck Jack as odd was the almost total lack of
mention of the arrival of the Starbase. While some of the signals
certainly contained mention of the new visitors, it was remarkably small.
You'd hardly realize that anything unusual had happened to these people
by reading these records.
Jack spent the next 30 minutes skimming through the messages, looking for
something more than mild surprise at the current events - he found none.
To the Felim people, this was no more worthy of comment than a rainy day.
The attitude did seem to mesh with the reported cultural norms...the
Felim were an exceedingly polite people, and very much aware of personal
space. Prying into the affairs of others was considered culturally rude,
and this seemed to be reflected in the communications logs. But even
cultural taboos had their limits...this lack of interest was just down
right weird!
"My god, it's like finding a planet of Canadians." Jack muttered. He
cleared the record on his display and filed it for further analysis. He
then turned back to the display and stared at the image of the
planet...there just had to be more to this. He just knew it.
"Masquerade"
=/\= Argellius =/\=
The morning of the Ascencion ceremony dawned bright and clear, belying
the grave and quiet atmosphere that surrounded the House. Standing in
front of the mirror, Ron twitched the cuffs of the heavily-starched
cream-colored shirt inside the sleeves of the fitted formal jacket,
trying to find an acceptable fit.
Mulder just stood a little way back, watching with some bemusement as the
familiar Ron she knew was transformed into a picture-book hero. The pants
and jacket were a deep purple-black, fitted in a body-conforming fashion.
The coat ended just at the hips, with brasswork buttons, gold epaulets
and slight trim at the cuffs. She rather thought it suited him - he had
the build and figure to carry it off. She noticed all the little details
- the stiff collar ending just under the neck, which looked somewhat
uncomfortable.
A doubly wrapped sash around his waist of some cream color with a black
leather belt and scabbard hanging from it completed the ensemble.
Ron fumbled with the interior hook and button of the high collar. "I
*hate* these things - always have. I'm glad Starfleet has passed beyond
this stage of barbarism and into comfortable uniforms." He grimaced and
hissed as he pinched his neck again.
"Here, let me do it," she swatted his hands away and deftly finished off
fastening it for him. Standing back to survey the finished result she
nodded approval. "Rather tasty, actually, in a fairy-tale prince sort of
way." She grinned at him, with a cheeky wink.
"Regardless of how it *looks*, I still think I should've worn my 'fleet
dress Medicals. I don't want certain people getting the wrong idea about
my affiliations with this House.'
"But this *is * still your House - regardless of what has happened. It's
your heritage, after all."
"My attachments to this House died with my Mother. I have no love for
that manipulative son-of-a-bitch that runs it now, nor for any of his
cronies, hangers-on or other forms of lower life that seem to orbit
around him. The Name of my House needs to be purged in blood and honor but that's just a *bit* archaic nowadays. So, instead, I'll do it *my*
way."
"What do you mean?"
He smiled down at her as he took her hands into his. "Just. be flexible,
and ready for my signal. I don't know *what* will happen today - but I
plan to bring that man to his knees, once and for all."
"Ron. now you're starting to scare me. If I'm to do a decent job helping
you I need to know just what you've got in mind."
"Ah." He waved a hand in dismissal at her semi-protest. "You *worry* too
much, Mulder. What could *I* possibly do?" A mischievous wink accompanied
the bland protest.
"That's *precisely * what worries me," she said in fond exasperation.
"'Sides - you look absolutely *lovely*, m'dear." Ron had specifically had
another set of motorcycle leathers hand-crafted for her in the same dark
wine red he'd originally selected for their first date. The effect was
something out of his dreams - ones that he wouldn't have admitted to
anyone.
The deeply colored leather, pale skin and raven hair combined into
something that was sensuously dangerous - and gave the Aarian an aura of
sinister threat that he hoped he could capitalize on later today - if the
need arose, of course.
"Hmm," she gave him a reproving look. "I'm not so sure about that. I look
like one of those warrior-chicks from a holo-Dungeons and Dragons
campaign. All I need is a sword that turns into a blazing dagger of fire
and a fighting ability level of one thousand, and I can go hunt the evil
mage-paladin of Azeroth accompanied only by a troll called Ugg and a
small pixie of indeterminate gender. Ron, I look like a fantasy-babe with
big bazookas!"
Ron gave her a surprised, look, and burst out into laughter. "Well,
perhaps I *like* you that way!"
"You're impossible, Jerillion!" she leapt on him, amused despite
everything, trying to land a few hits. "I'm going to slap you SO hard."
More chuckles, as he ducked the swats that came within inches of
connecting. "Hey!" He chortled. "Knock it off, now - I was- Ow!" He
grabbed an arm, grinning. "Look, Mulder - right now, you look dark and
dangerous - and everything a woman *shouldn't* be in the High Houses of
Argellius."
Mulder nodded, starting to comprehend - although she didn't like the
ethos, she could understand the logic behind it.
"I *need* that, as much for psychological warfare as to show I am
separate from my House. You're my ace-in-the-hole - and I want them
wondering about you, watching you, from the moment you walk in. Fear,
concern, curiosity - they'll distract attention from me, and put the
focus on you." He paused a moment, looking into eyes as deep and dark as
space itself. "Can you handle that?"
The moment stilled as she smiled slowly and tenderly, "Of course I can.
Don't doubt it for a moment. I understand what you're doing here, and for
what it's worth I agree. We need *every* last whisper of help we can get.
Just so long as you *never * show anyone the holo-pics of me looking like
this." Giving him a heartfelt look she whispered, "We'll win, Ron - you
and me. Together, there is *nothing* we cannot do. Whatever the odds, I'm
with you."
"Good." He pulled her in close, pressing his lips against hers, drinking
in the smell, the taste, the *feel* of her next to him. "We should get
going."
"Yeah." she murmured, giving another kiss for luck.
A knock sounded on the door. "Lord Jerillion? Your place has been
announced, sir."
Ron cleared his throat, and stated quietly, "Thank you." He gently eased
himself out of their embrace, and paused to stare into Mulder's eyes
before holding an elbow out to Mulder. When she took it, the pair headed
out the door.
=/\= Felim Central Archives - Planet Faylinn =/\=
Parvis slogged his way through another dusty tome. Waving a tricorder
over the page, his PADD lit up with the image of the document, then it
overlaid a translation of the words and phrases it found onto the image.
"This one isn't so bad. The translation matrix is working very well on
this text," Parvis said.
"Yes, that one is one of our older volumes, from a similar era to one of
the ones you scanned to train your device." Professor Hellon leaned in to
see what Parvis had found.
Parvis' security escort coughed in the ever-growing cloud of dust the
books were giving off. He moved back a few more seats. Parvis' newlyretained pair of extra bodyguards had gone in search of evidence of
Mitsuko elsewhere in the facility. Which meant they were playing cards up
on the surface level of the building.
"I take it you are a specialist in this sort of research?" Hellon asked.
"Oh, no. Officially, I'm a Counselor on the station. Sort of a
psychologist, doctor for the brain, of sorts. But, you wouldn't know it
from what they have me doing most days. The boss seems to enjoy
reassigning me to different and unpleasant tasks on a whim."
"Well, you must be important. For all of these guards to escort you."
"Yes. Indeed." Parvis turned back to the text, flipped the page and
scanned again. This one had very little writing, just some names
inscribed below a portrait.
"Ah, one of the leaders from a bygone era. I don't recognize the name."
Hellon studied the portrait for a moment before reaching to turn the page
for Parvis.
"Wait. This is odd. He doesn't seem to have, um, some of your features.
The ears seem more rounded, and no hints of the, um," Parvis motioned at
Hellon's face indicating his cranial ridges.
"Surely you don't think we'd all look the same, do you?" Hellon stared at
Parvis, mortified.
"Oh, of course not. And this yellowish tinge to the portrait, maybe it is
aged and damaged." Parvis turned the page quickly, embarrassed over the
apparent insult.
Parvis scanned a page of text. "It is just that, well, the features I see
in you and the others here today seem to be in more of the modern
pictures, but not so much in the older ones. Curious."
"Yes, well, artists do improve through the ages, yes?" Hellon offered.
"Well, in general, perhaps." Parvis recalled some of Raoul's works.
Perhaps, being a student of centuries of artistic expression, Raoul was
the modern pinnacle of artistic vision?
"Ah, now this, this is interesting." Hellon pointed at the page Parvis
was reviewing. "This is some of the earliest documentation of what you
might call our early technological age. The first artificial lighting
devices. It really shook things up, as I'm sure it did on most worlds.
The combined influences of having light on demand, plus the necessary
infrastructure to ensure power to the devices as they spread. They were a
turning point in our culture."
"Of course, as they should have been. When was this, again?" Parvis
tapped his PADD to scroll back through scanned pages, looking for
timeline references.
"Oh, I'm not sure, really." Hellon turned the page again, hurrying
through the text.
"Here it is. This isn't too long ago, perhaps six or seven hundred of our
standard years. Remarkable."
"Is that fast, by your, what did you call it, Federation, standards?"
"Oh, not too bad. Some cultures move faster than others. You appear to
have done well," Parvis smiled. He picked up his PADD and flipped to the
timeline data he was collecting. Tapping, he put in the indicators of the
move from medieval to technological society into the appropriate place.
"This is amazing. Such a lengthy history, evidence of written records
documented so many millenia ago."
Parvis looked around the table at the other volumes. "The other thing we
should be looking for, where are the records of the peoples that have
visited this world previously? Perhaps we could find something in them to
give us some clues about where you came from."
"That is to say, where you came from." Hellon smiled at Parvis, waggling
a finger. "Remember, it is your station that appeared in our sky."
"Of course. Maybe you ran into the Romulans. Or the Ferengi. Oh, I do
hope it wasn't the Orions. Or the Sayl'reth, those are big scary lizard
monsters..." Parvis noticed Hellon flinch.
"Sayl'reth?" Parvis asked.
"That word is familiar. We pronounce something like it, it varies a bit
by region. It is an old tale told to the children. The lizards will get
you if you misbehave, or stay out too late, that sort of thing. Mostly in
the rural areas anymore, some of the tales they conjure up to associate
with it are rather grotesque and crude."
"This is something, we should investigate, perhaps there are some records
to give this legend some foundation." Parvis scanned the table, looking
for a likely book amongst the anonymous volumes they had hefted from the
archives.
"Here, try this one," Hellon eagerly pointed at a smaller tome.
"Yes," Parvis opened it and stopped short. He stared, bug-eyed, at what
was on the page. Hellon peered over his shoulder.
"What have you, oh. I'm sorry, that appears to be from our collection of
antique erotica. I wonder how that got out here? I'll just take that to
refile downstairs," Hellon reached for the book, smiling innocently, only
to have Parvis twist his body to block.
"No, no, let me consider this for a bit. There might be important
cultural clues in here." Parvis flipped the page to study another exotic
portrait, the documents on his PADD forgotten.
=/\= 2nd XO Office - Upper Promenade - Starbase BoB =/\=
Paxan sat behind the desk to her dingy office and stared at the PADD in
her hand. Her eyes ached dully at the illuminated words that she seemed
to have been staring at for what felt like days. She rubbed her temples
and flexed the muscles in her back - was this really what being apart of
Command was like?
Although she was tired and mentally sapped, the feeling felt good in a
strange way. She knew it wouldn't always be this simple but she was
beginning to realize that their was more to life in Starfleet that
analyzing astrometric readings and genetic codes. Dealing with people and
making the big decisions was also a factor.
A knock at the door interrupted Paxan's contemplation and she looked up
to see the partial view of Baxter Mattingly standing on the other side of
her broken door.
Baxter yawned. "Hey!" he called out. "Anybody home? Anyone who wants
chocolate?" He glanced around the door and held out his hand which held a
chocolate bunny.
"Baxter, Hey...thanks for coming by so quickly," said Paxan as she stood
and hurried around the desk to help pry the door further back, "Come on
in."
"What's cooking?" he asked. "That door needs some work. Have you asked
engineering to get damage control over here?"
Paxan smiled and shook her head as she eyed the door, "Engineering has
more important things to do that worry about a broken door. From what I
hear, your fiancé' is working like crazy just keeping this old station
from falling into orbit of Faylinn. I think I can live with a busted door
and this office is only temporary anyway."
"Yep," she's sure been busy, "But we're going to be relaxing a little to
talk about the wedding. That's the always talked about, but never
happening wedding. That's going to change really soon."
"Everyone is looking forward to the wedding," she said with a grin as she
ushered him inside and motioned to a seat before alighted into her own
chair on the far side of the desk, "I needed to talk to you about the
station's bank."
Baxter went in and sat down after she did. He kept looking back at the
door. "What about the bank?" he asked. "People don't in general trust me
around them."
"Apparently we have some very squirrelly merchants onboard who feel their
money isn't as secured as they'd like, what with the appearance of a
mystery planet below us and some other unfortunate incidents at the
FedBank already," she said with a sigh, "...I can't say I blame them."
"But things are just as secure as they ever were," Baxter stated. "Yes,
there's a new oddity in the vicinity, but that doesn't mean security is
completely blind. Still, I suppose we do have to keep the customers
satisfied, so to speak."
"Right, so with your help I would like to get something in the works to
calm their fears."
"Hmm," Baxter said offering more chocolate.
Paxan smiled and accepted the offered bit of chocolate, "Thanks," she
said with a smile. Mattingly sure loved his chocolate and wasn't afraid
to show it, "So...what kind of options can the security department offer
me in bettering the banking system?"
"Twenty armed Klingons with mega-zapper rifles and brute force on guard
duty 24 hours a day," Baxter said without blinking. "Or I have tiny
little robo ants that patrol the bank night and day and beam signals to
an alert security staff of any movement in the bank and vaults. There are
also the hidden spies in the plants trick, but that hasn't worked well
since 1897."
She thought it over for a moment. The idea of twenty armed security
guards seemed a bit obsessive. One perhaps would be more reasonable but
she wasn't completely sold on the tiny-robo ants idea, although she
should have expected Baxter to think outside the box - after all, he is
the one who came up with the now famous inflatable donut defense system.
"I like the idea, more or less. It might work," she said, "What about the
money itself...I'm concerned about thieves who think up unimaginable ways
to get at the large stock of money on the other side of the vault."
"I suggest hidden micro-tracers be placed in certain credits, funds and
valuables in the bank so if anyone does grab something, we can find it,"
Baxter stated. "How does that sound?"
Paxan nodded and furrowed her brow, "It sounds expensive."
"I could offer you a mean accountant," he added.
The young woman sighed, "I have the feeling we'd need an entire
accounting firm to balance the budget it would take for these kinds of
changes," she said with an exasperated sigh and a nibble from her
chocolate rabbit. "What about if we go back to basics?" she asked as she
skimmed through the PADD.
"Basics are good, however, I can provide those things from my ever ready
stash of stuff, at no additional cost," he grinned. "What did you have in
mind?"
"Things like super reinforced bulkheads, ultra sensitive surveillance
systems and transport inhibitors," she said as she tapped the stylus to
her chin, "Also, we could relocate the bank to a closer area near
security and I like the idea of a full time security guard."
"Just relocating the bank would make it safe," Baxter said. "No one could
find it for awhile. Still, relocation does have its downside. What if
someone trailed us?"
Paxan smiled, "It's not a perfect solution but it would be more effective
than what we have now. Not to mention, I think the FedBank customers
would feel better about leaving their money. And if all goes well, then
we could certainly upgrade in the future with your robo-ants," she said
with a hopeful grin.
Baxter looked at Paxan. "It was the ants that caused you to doubt my
plan, wasn't it?" Baxter said. "You have the same look Mulder gets when I
tell her about my security systems. Okay, we'll do it your way. But
sometime, let me show you the ants."
The young woman grinned from behind her PADD. The comparison to Mulder
was definitely a compliment and a welcome one considering her injured
pride at having Parvis promoted over her during this temporary situation.
"It's a deal, Baxter," she said, "But we still need to get this approved
by Vaughan first. I'll let you know how it goes."
=/\= Cade's New Office - Starbase BoB =/\=
Paxan Brey stepped into Cade Vaughan's office, or at least the office he
was using while in temporary command of the station. The marine CO had
always seemed like a fairly reliable man, to the young woman but based on
his choice in XO she was beginning to rethink her position on the
subject.
Acting XO Maru had issued orders for a bodyguard to remain with her at
all times while aboard the station which meant that she had spent even
more time with Marine sniper Drake Bastian than she had intentionally
planned. It wasn't all bad though, Drake had proven him self to be very
easy to talk to and a trustworthy friend. With him waiting outside now,
Paxan smiled as she approached Acting Commander Vaughan.
"Afternoon, Lieutenant. Have a seat." Cade waved her toward one of the
chairs opposite the desk from him and finished tapping away at the
computer before looking back at her. "How's everything going?"
She sat in the chair offered and crossed her legs, "Doing fine, sir.
Thanks for asking," she said with a confident smile, "I stopped by to
talk to you about the bank situation."
"Bank situation?" Cade thought about the visit to the brig and his
'interview' of that pikey bastard for a moment. "Besides the robbery,
there's something else?"
The young woman wasn't surprised that he didn't know about it as she was
fairly certain he had much more pressing problems to worry about without
having to referee a bunch of shop owners. "Apparently some of the
customer who had been using the Federation bank feel that their latinum
is not secure enough," said the young woman, "I've held a meeting with
the concerned parties as well as with Baxter Mattingly to discuss ways of
fixing the problem."
"You have?" Cade's first reaction was to be impressed. He wouldn't have
thought that Brey would show such initiative. "And did your little cabal
come up with any solutions to the concerns?"
Paxan nodded, "Actually we do have a few ideas," said the young woman,
"Basically, the bank customers want security. BoB may not be the most
advanced station but the business that comes through this place
is...well, let's just say, there's a lot. So, we feel that we need to
reinforce the security measures around a free-standing bank space on the
Promenade."
"Okay," he said but the tone said, "Please continue."
"Namely, we will need a whole new space...preferably somewhere centrally
located and as close to security as possible," se said while handing him
a small PADD that had been in her hand, "You'll also notice reinforced
bulkheads around the entire parameter and transporter scramblers
installed inside the bank-to avoid theft or break in."
"Very impressive," he murmurred as he reviewed the information she left.
"So, it looks like you have just about everything covered here."
Lieutenant Brey smiled proudly, "I was hoping I could get your input on
the project. Perhaps you have some thoughts on improving the plan?"
"Three things that I can see." He set the padd down. "One, we need to
find an actual location, but that shouldn't be too hard. There's a few
unused spaces on the Upper Promenade that should be large enough. Second
is engineering. For a project like this we should probably outsource the
construction to a civilian firm that is familiar with bank construction.
Lieutenant Omar and her people are very good, but you don't have a
renowned pastry chef cook prime rib if you know what I mean."
The analogy caught Paxan as funny as she chuckled good naturedly, "Very
true, sir."
"Last thing is the sentient element. No matter the construction, no
matter the automated security, sentient beings are still going to be
needed to protect the premises." He scratched his chin. "Appropriate
measures will have to be taken doing background checks on employees,
especially security personnel. Until people are found to fill those
slots, and I can't believe I'm saying this, we should look at contracting
the internal security of the new bank location. And the only security
contractors on the station belong to Badger Gamble."
She blinked, "Badger Gamble...the bounty hunter?" she asked. Paxan hadn't
had very many dealing with the man but the stories were well known. Her
brother had fought along side him during the Trinn occupation (or was it
the arachnid invasion?) and he had spoken highly of his fighting
techniques but was still a little unnerved by his character.
"I've had...dealings...with Mr.
approach him about the idea and
"It'll probably be an arm and a
bill, not us," he finished with
Gamble in the past," Cade started. "I'll
see what he would charge." He sighed.
leg, but FedBank will be footing the
a smile.
"That's good to hear," she said, "There are also several addendums on the
list of other things that Baxter and I talked about-one being tiny roboants that would patrol the area twenty-four hours a day. It might be
something to consider down the road."
"Robo-ants?" Cade glanced at the padd again. "I'll look forward to
reading the full proposal on that one..."
Paxan nodded and stood from her chair, "Alright then," she said as flexed
the tense muscles in her fingers, "I'll begin getting quotes from some
independent contractors and also scouting out possible locations for the
FedBank, if that's alright with you?"
"Consider the project yours, Lieutenant." Cade sat back in his chair.
"I'll back you on your decisions as long as they are within reason and
you can justify them to me. As for the locations, I would think that
there's really only one or two on the Upper Promenade that they'd be
interested in. I'll put a block on them until FedBank decides which one
they want. Anything else?"
The young woman turned away and walked several steps towards the door
then stopped suddenly. It had been a nagging question in her mind but
Paxan had wanted to not bring it up. Dwelling on the fact of Parvis
temporary promotion over felt childish and out of character for the young
woman. Paxan didn't like the feeling of jealousy she was experiencing but
couldn't help the way she felt about it.
Cade could tell there was something eating at her, and he thought he had
a pretty good guess as to what it was. "What's on your mind, Lieutenant?"
Turning back, Paxan looked at Cade, "Oh, just one thing," she began, "I
was just wondering if I should send my report on the FedBank through
Lieutenant Maru or just bring it directly to you, sir?" She chickened out
in broaching the subject at the last minute.
Cade smiled. "I think we can dispense with going through Mr. Maru on this
one. He's got enough on his plate right now, I think, with his antitractor measures."
Paxan couldn't help but laugh. Cade may not have good sense in who he
assigns to temporary executive officer status but at least he had a sense
of humor.
"Yes, straight to me." He nodded his head to emphasize the point. "I want
to be kept close to this situation, understood?"
"Absolutely, sir," she affirmed, "I'll keep you posted on further
developments."
"Good." He waved a hand to shoo her out of the office. "Now go and be
useful someplace other than my office, if you please."
Turning to leave once again, Paxan allowed a feint smile to break across
her face. Her earlier impression of Vaughan hadn't been that stellar at
first, but she was quickly changing her opinion. Perhaps he had
underestimated her and was now realizing his error, she thought. It
certainly had been that way with her.
Brushing thoughts of imagined inadequacy aside, Paxan Brey headed out the
door to tackle the numerous problems that had sprung up this week.
=/\= Infirmary - Starbase BoB =/\=
Alternating chewing on her bottom and top lips, Shinandra went through
the small bag she'd packed one last time. She still really wasn't sure
she even *wanted* to go down to the planet, but a part of her was feeling
that she had no choice. To further convince herself of this, she decided
that maybe a 'working' vacation was in order. It would help get her mind
off... everything and accomplish something useful.
The knuckles rapping on the door jamb belonged to a burly Trill with
Sergeant's stripes on his arms. The sewn nametag over the fatigue shirt's
breast pocket said, "DREXER." The marine smiled. "Doctor Alleir? Sergeant
Kam Drexer. I'm one of Major Vaughan's combat medics."
The knock made her jump slightly, as on edge as she was. Forcing a weak
smile, she glanced at the man standing in her door way. "Ah, yes, hello,
Sergeant," she greeted a little absently, trying to pull herself back to
respectable. "You're a medic?" she asked, surprised suddenly to recall
that fact, since he was going as protection escort and all.
(She hadn't seen Vaughan in a while, both circumstance and fear of dying
from embarressment after recent events, but the 'Major' part still
sparked a note, but she just went with it.)
"Yes, ma'am. He thought that in addition to the bodyguard work that I may
be able to assist you with some of your research since we speak
'medicalese,' I think is what he called it."
To this, she couldn't help a quiet laugh. Medicalese..."That sounds like
something the...Major would say," she said with a slight smile. Looking
down to check her back again. 'Nandra, quit acting like an idiot.' She
forced herself to close it and put it over her shoulder. "Shall we head
out?" she asked, trying to seem like she was looking forward to this.
"After you, ma'am. The shuttle's waiting on us." The marine, who topped
Cade by nearly 6 inches, seemed to fill half the hallway as he plowed
toward the shuttlebay.
After a few minutes of walking, Shinandra glanced towards the marine
she'd be spending the next couple hours with. Something stirred in her
mind, but she ignored it. "Since we're going to be traipsing about down
there for a bit, you're welcome to call me Nandra if you like. Most
people do," she said, starting to force herself to relax a little.
He shook his head emphatically. "Wouldn't feel comfortable with that,
Lieutenant, you being an officer and all; even though we're in separate
branches."
"Truly?" Nandra asked with simple curiosity, glancing sidelong and
upwards at the man walking beside her. She was finally starting to feel
herself relax, if only a little and despite that the marine she walked
beside was taller than her by over a foot - she'd gotten used to that. "I
trust it's nothing personal," she joked faintly, with a smile.
"No, ma'am, it's just that protocol and formalities get ingrained pretty
good during basic training." The following shrug was as if to imply that
it was a perfectly natural social divide.
She nodded, "I can understand that. I went in to Starfleet late, and even
so, never really had much care for protocols that I thought weren't vital
to my work." She chuckled lightly, "Though I'm getting better at it." She
paused thoughtfully. Finding that actually talking to someone was helping
her, she tried to find a way to keep it going. "So...if you don't mind my
asking, how'd you come to join the marines?"
He smiled down at the diminutive (comparitively) doctor. "My intent had
been to join the marines, see the galaxy, and then go back to school, but
after a couple of years, it kind of gets in your blood. I got sent to the
medics school and a year later came out a Combat Triage and Trauma
Stabilization Specialist."
"Back to school?" she asked curiously, "What were you interested in
studying?"
"I was at a university for a year as pre-med, actually xenobiology with
the intent of medical school later." He paused and let her walk into the
shuttlebay first. "But, campus life bored me and I wanted adventure."
Her smile was one of interest and understanding. "I went to Medical
School, the whole nine yards, and believe me, it was boring." She laughed
quietly as they went through the process of boarding the shuttle and
walking to a pair of seats. "Then I went through Starfleet Medical some
years later and it was more of the same, although over all worthwhile."
She paused, "Do you ever think of going back?"
As they sat down in the shuttle, he took her kit and stowed it under his
seat next to his own. "No, ma'am, not anymore. I enjoy what I'm doing too
much to stop and go back. Maybe when I grow up," he added with a wide
smile.
Nandra laughed lightly, "Growing up is optional," she stated. She felt
the tension start to return a little, but ignored it. "Besides, the
training you have now is basically the same, just a different
subspeciality - though just as vital."
"So, I'm told," he said quietly. "I just like the fact that I've got a
specialty in the marines that allows me to be useful even when I'm not
pulling a trigger."
She smiled and then let the quiet hang for a moment, before determining
that she didn't like the quiet too much right now. "What do you think
about this whole planet business?" she asked, "I haven't actually had the
chance to talk to many people about it. Quite frankly, it weirds me out a
little, but...hard to resist the opportunity."
"Well, Lieutenant, I can only speak for myself, but I think it's going to
go one of two ways." He leaned back against the wall of the shuttle,
trying to get comfortable in the turbulence. "Either this is exactly what
it appears to be and we're the next DS-9 with a Risa chaser or the planet
is going to turn into a giant space slug that's going to swallow us
whole."
"Aye, I had that in mind, too," she grinned this time, liking the way he
thought. "I'm not allowed to scan them, but am allowed to take a look at
their hospital. It's always good to be able to do stuff like that every
now and then, broaden horizons, gather information and all that." She
chuckled, "Plus, I've an occasionally curious nature and this seems as
good a target as anything..." Her smile became wry, "I just hope it
doesn't all go south on us."
The Sergeant winked across the shuttle at her. "If it does, that's why
I've got my best friend with us," he said patting the phaser pistol in
his thigh holster.
"Always prepared for anything, eh?" she asked with a faint smile.
Normally, she didn't like weapons, but events in recent history had shown
her their use...and the use of preperation.
He shrugged. "Just a precaution. In the absence of having an actual
Intelligence detachment on board, we're doing the best we can, compiling
our observations, but so far, no threats are showing up on the board."
Shinandra nodded thoughtfully. "It's at least a start, I suppose. Perhaps
things will continue in a good direction..." Then she smiled, "At least a
girl can always hope, right?"
=/\= Short While Later...Faylinn =/\=
On firm ground for the first time in a long while, the Doctor couldn't
help but take a deep breath and smile. "It is beautiful," she commented
quietly, "It's prettier than Erris II."
"Erris II?"
"Where I
too, but
although
thinking
I wasn't
was born," she explained, "New Babel Colony. It's nice there,
much warmer. You're accustomed to it if you're born there,
I never really liked it." She chuckled, wondering why she was
of home so much now. Must be the planet. "Maybe that was a sign
meant to be there."
"I'm a firm believer that you are wherever you were meant to be at any
given time, Lieutenant, whether by fate or by choice." He handed her back
her medical kit and started walking toward the edge of the landing pad.
She shrugged and then looked around. "Have you been down here yet, or
this your first time, too?"
"Third time, ma'am. First one was with the group that came down with
Major Vaughan to see the local Felim garrison in their version of Parade
Formation and to start making some initial plans for a joint tactical
exercise. Second time was escorting a Bajoran family to the beach...the
parents were nice, but their three kids were absolute terrors to keep an
eye on."
Not being able to help it, Nandra laughed faintly at that. "Kids often
are," she replied, "I just hope that your trip down here with me won't
prove to be as troublesome."
"Oh, if you gave me that much trouble, Lieutenant, I'd just stun you and
drag you back to the base," he deadpanned.
"Oh my, if I am that much trouble, I may just end up shooting myself for
you," she joked lightly. She didn't really plan on getting shot by anyone
today, although who does...Either way, she planned to be little trouble.
She still wasn't sure she even wanted to *be* here.
He scratched at an imaginary itch on his cheek to hide the grin. "If you
say so, ma'am."
Smiling back at him, she settled on her hand on her hip. "Well...since
you've already been down here, perhaps you know the direction of the
hospital? I was told that I could go take a look and I'd like to do so
while I'm here."
"No, but..." He led her toward the road/path that was the direct route to
the heart of the city and got the attention of a patrolling law
enforcement type. A brief, very friendly exchange and they were on their
way.
"Fabulous," she said and the two began their journey towards the
hospital. "Since I've no idea what I'm actually looking for," she began
after a few moments, "If anything at all, I hope perhaps you'll be able
to help me in general observation - catch anything...interesting...that I
might miss?"
"That what I'm here for, Lieutenant." He chuckled softly. "And the small
matter of fighting our way to safety if it becomes necessary."
She smiled, "It's much appreciated. There's only so many directions I can
look in at once," she chuckled. "I've heard that the mothers of small
children have eyes in the back of their heads, but that's not something
I'm granted with: children or the second sight."
"Nor I, ma'am, nor I. I guess we'll just have to make do with one pair
apiece." He patted his belt. "Although I think a tricorder will help even
the score for us."
As they made their way to the edges of the main section of town, she
laughed quietly. "So at least we're ahead of the game in that, then," she
replied, then saw a large white building ahead of them. "Is that the main
clinic?" she asked, because it looked like one...for more lovely than any
she'd seen, particularly in having started her career at Mortigo, but
still...
"Must be..."
"Must be," she repeated quietly, running one hand through her hair as
they made their way to the front of the building.
As they walked up the short steps, Kam's hand dropped to hover just over
the pistol's grip from force of habit. "Nice airy building." The combat
side of the combat medic noted the wide open doorways and windows that
provided firing lanes and the thick pillars of the courtyard that could
provide cover if needed.
She glanced at him side long and couldn't help but recognize the look:
intense, catching all details, planning..."Plotting an escape route?" she
asked, half in earnest and half in jest.
"Just thinking worst case scenario, ma'am." He glanced around and saw a
Felim with a broad smile on her face coming out to meet them. "Welcoming
committee?"
Putting on her best professional smile, she nodded. "It would seem so..."
she said as the rest of the steps between them and the Felim woman were
crossed.
"Hello, I am Doctor Tianna, Health Minister," the Felim greeted with a
smile and open _expression. She was quiet for a moment before extending
her hand. "Your custom of greeting," she said, half in question and half
in statement.
"It is," Nandra agreed, stepping forward and taking the proferred hand
for a moment. "I'm Doctor Shinandra Alleir. I'm a Medical Officer on BoB.
This is Sergeant Kam Drexer, a friend of mine who's come down with me to
take a look and see what we can learn," she explained with only the
slightest hesitation over what to title the man beside her. Saying, 'This
is the marine they've sent me down with to make sure you don't all turn
in to scary monsters and tear me limb from limb' probably wasn't the best
way to go.
"I'm a medic," Kam explained. "A lower level of medical provider from
physician that trains for emergency treatment of trauma and severe
illness."
He, in turn, shook the diminutive Felim's hand. *What was it with every
doctor around here being about 5 foot nothing?*
Tianna dipped her head, "It is an honor to meet you both, especially
those knowing of the medical realm. It is always enjoyable to get to know
fellows of my profession," she continued.
As far as Shinandra could tell, the woman seemed as open and friendly as
she presented herself to be. "Indeed," Shinandra agreed. "I was wondering
if you would have some time for us to talk to you about your facilities
here?" she asked, moving right to business. "I understand about the
restriction of taking scans of your people, I assure you, but perhaps you
could answer some questions?"
"Of course," Tianna waved them in to the hospital, turning and walking
in.
He winked at Nandra and patted the tricorder holstered on his web belt.
Exchanging the glance with Drexer, she had the feeling that they were
somewhat thinking on the same line, or at least close. So far, so good,
but caution...
It was certainly a beautiful building and quite large. Spacious and airy,
there were even some windows open along the corridor that allowed the
fresh air in. They walked down along a long white corridor and Nandra
couldn't help but notice that even though they passed rooms that looked
somewhat like the average hospital rooms, there were no patients.
There was one room that looked to Kam to be a surgical suite, but the
equipment was neatly stacked along the walls and the bed in the center
devoid of anything except a clean, white sheet. It was bizarre to his
mind, almost like the building was newly constructed and not in use yet.
Finally, Doctor Tianna led them in to an office. Like the hospital, it
was large and decorted all in light shades: white, pale greens and blues.
The windows were open and a gentle breeze passed in through thing white
curtains. They were waved to a pair of seats and Tianna offered them
something to drink.
"Thank you," Nandra said, accepting the cup although drinking from it
with concealed hesitantcy.
"Bottoms up," Kam intoned before swallowing a mouthful. It wasn't bad.
Some sort of tropical fruit juice if he had to guess. A little too far on
the tangy side, but enjoyable.
"I'm not entirely sure where to start," Shinandra laughed quietly. "You
have a lovely facility here." As she said this, she took a moment to
observe the Felim woman sitting across from her and wondered again about
the things she'd discovered in her research. Maybe she could ask, but it
would have to be later...
Tianna smiled, "Thank you. We feel that one should be comfortable during
treatment, it helps the process, although we are a very healthy people,
so much of our building is given to research."
"Healthy is an understatement, Doctor," Kam said with a smile on his
face. "I...we...haven't seen a single patient here. Is this typical or
just a slow day?"
"This is typical," Tianna replied easily, "Like I said, we are a very
healthy people. We do have patients - they are just seen to on the upper
levels."
Kam's eyes narrowed slightly. The response was too easy, almost like it
was practiced. What was wrong with the other patients that they were kept
hidden from view?
Shinandra nodded slowly. 'Wow,' she thought to herself. Starfleet people
were pretty healthy, too, but still not quite anything compared to this.
"You mentioned the upper levels," she continued, unsure of exactly what
path it was she was jumping on here, but she was following it, "Would it
be possible for you to show us around the building?"
The other doctor shook her head, still with that serene smile, "I'm
afraid not right now, as I have some meetings scheduled after our talk
here, but perhaps another day? Tomorrow, or the day following?"
Not exactly the answer she expected, but not a total surprise either...
Nandra nodded, "Sure, that would be fine." She smiled, too.
"Wonderful, then, I look forward to it," Tianna said and rose to her
feet. "I fear that I must apologize for my tight schedule today. I am
glad I was able to meet you, though."
Surprised but endeavoring not to show it, Shinandra took the hint and got
to her feet.
Once they were outside again and the Doctor was gone, she looked over at
Drexer. "Did that seem a little quick to you?" she asked.
"She wasn't very interested in a long conversation, that's for sure,
Lieutenant."
She nodded, "She was perfectly nice about it...and we did show up
unannounced..." she thought out loud.
"But still..." Kam looked around. "This place is just a little on the
creepy side of too nice."
Chewing on her lower lip for a moment, Shinandra still wasn't satisfied
with that. She wasn't going to fuss over it too much until she saw how
the tour went. "Well, looks like I'm just due back," she chuckled
faintly, thinking of how she hadn't even wanted to come down here in the
first place at all, let alone more than once.
"On the way back to the shuttle may I suggest a trip through the central
plaza?"
"You know, I think that sounds like a good idea," she decided, "Perhaps
we should use a little of the time for some actual shore leave, since
we're here anyways...
"Good. When I was down here earlier, ma'am, I noticed a few things that I
wouldn't mind picking up as presents." He patted a pocket that caused the
strips of latinum to jingle before glancing down and grinning. "I can
float you a loan 'til we get back if you need it, Lieutenant."
Shinandra laughed quietly, "Don't worry, I've got it covered - but
thanks," she replied as they started their trip back. A quiet voice,
which was really getting damned annoying just showing up like that all
the time, told her that it wouldn't be a problem as she didn't have
anyone to buy presents for...except maybe Puggy. Yeah, she'd find
something for Puggy and worry about the rest later.
=/\= Sickbay - USS Caledonia =/\=
Des bounced in to Sickbay with the usual vibrancy. "Zim!" she called,
looking around. It was just now the beginning of the Duty Shift, but at
least there were no patients. Plus, there was indeed a nurse running
about somewhere, so she had the idea that there might be something to be
found on the ship now next door.
Having become acclimated to the lack of most things here, she knew that
it was worth going and seeing if there was anyhting to be found. She had
the feeling that this might just be right along her Ferengi crewmate's
alley. "Zim!" she called, wondering if he was in. She walked in to the
office and checked under the desk. Hm. No go.
A pair of legs poking out a hatch at the far end of sickbay gave a little
wiggle. The owner of the legs cursed, bumped his head attempting to
wiggle out, and cursed again. Finally Zim dragged himself out of the
hatch near the rougue stasis tube. He'd been trying to shut it off
somehow. "Doc?"
"There you are!" she walked out of the office with a cheerful brisk step
and grinned. "How would you like to go on a scavenger hunt?"
Rubbing at the bump on his head Zim was a little confused, "Scavenger
hunt? What?"
She chuckled, "Did you hear the Captain's message? Looks like we're
cleared to go raiding on the ship...Zanzi-something, I think."
"Oh yeah, the Zanzi-thing. I remember now." Zim pulled himself up and
then dusted himself off. "A little raid might be just the thing." His
greedy eyes lit up at the thought of all the things they might be able to
get, not just in the way of supplies and equipment for sickbay.
"I've got an anti-grav sled hidden somewhere that might come in
useful...any idea if they had a sickbay?" asked Zim as he headed for the
doors.
Des shook her head, working to make her normally leggy strides (both by
nature and by practice) match his. "Nah, I don't know much about it
except that they've given us a green light to go find what we can." She
paused, "You've got an anti-grav sled?"
"Er yeah..." Zim grinned slightly, "Only a small one mind. I borrowed it
off Engineering ages ago. For shifting warheads and furniture around."
"I see," Des replied with a quiet laugh and a shrug as they made their
way through the corridors. She could only guess that it was in his
quarters, as that was the direction they were headed.
As they got to Zim's quarters he scurried in and dragged out the small
sled.
It was exactly as he'd described it. "That'll probably be of use," she
declared with a grin, then looked up and couldn't help a curious glance
through the open doors.
Zim blushed slightly, "I've been meaning to clean up for a while.
Anyway..." He closed the door and led the way to the cranky transporter
rooms. "They must have some supplies. I'm sure there's a regulation about
first aid kits and stuff."
"One would think," she replied, "But I'm not going to count on it over
much. I mean...not everyone listens to regulations, or even can. You do
what you have to, when and how you have to," she grinned again, "Isn't
that like a Caledonia motto or something?" she joked, sort of.
"If its not already, it should be." Said Zim as they entered the
transporter room.
He pushed the sled onto the transporter pad and then hopped across behind
the control console. A few moments later he'd entered in what he thought
were the right co-ordinates. "All set?"
"Yep," she announced, standing on the transporter padd and beginning to
prayer that maybe it worked better than the rest of the ship...at least
enough to not scatter her across the galaxy. That was very much not the
way she wanted to depart existence!
"Okay then..." Zim pressed the timer. Nothing happened. He gave the
console a slap and it started to count down. He managed to get onto the
transporter pad just in time.
Once they rematerialized, Des laughed in relief and then grinned at her
comrade. "Good jump, I almost thought I'd be coming over here alone."
Zim shivered slightly, "You almost did. I hate that machine."
Rubbing her hands together, Desdemona quickly began a quick visual
survey. "All right, so where should we start?"
"Well theres not many decks so I don't think it matters too much..." Zim
glanced around, trying to get his bearings.He shrugged his bony
shoulders, "Shall we try from the top down? That'd mean the bridge, crew
quarters, any sort of sickbay they've got, engineering and then
storage...if it's a normal ship."
Des laughed. "That theory being prefaced on the idea that this is a
normal ship, you never know," she pointed out.
"Yeah...suppose we should try though. We might find all sorts if we're
lucky," said Zim as he set off into the gloom, hopefully towards the
bridge area.
Shrugging her own not quite so bony shoulders, she smiled to herself and
followed. They passed a few other crew members along the way, but
everyone just seemed to have their own thoughts on how to go about it, so
Des wasn't too worried. Everyone would have different priorities anyways.
The Bridge was a bust for anything medical, as far as Des saw, and
someone had already been through it. She definitely had to give points to
the crew of the Caledonia for being good with the scavenging.
Eventually, they walked in to a room that looked to have beds...not quite
biobeds, but more than cots. "I think we found Sickbay," she commented,
looking around as they stepped through the doorway.
"Looks a bit basic." said Zim with a sigh. It looked small and low tech.
Zim had a feeling it was no better than a first aid station. Still
anything they could find was better than nothing, just.
"For sure," she replied, still looking around. "Well, let's see what we
can find. Anything remotely basic will be particularly useful. I'm going
to assume you've noticed the same thing in terms of medical stock on the
Caly is that things of that nature are pretty low at the moment. I'm
guessing they've been used up and not restocked."
"Yup..." Zim took one last look and then dived towards one of the sets of
drawers, "Race you!"
"Devil!" Des exclaimed, but wasted no time heading to an area of the room
that looked like it would produce some useful finds.
Zim had taken one of the drawers out and turned it upside down, emptying
its contents out onto one of the cots. It was full of broke scalpels,
scraps of bandage and other medical items. Sorting this out was going to
take some time...
Looking over her shoulder, she laughed. "Don't make such a mess, Zim,"
she said in a light hearted manner.
=/\= An Hour or So Later...=/\=
"Well, what we've got so far is better than nothing." Said Zim as he
threw the odds and ends he'd recovered onto the sled.
Zim poked at some of the items. He'd gotten a few laser scalpels (mainly
limited use or without the batteries), gathered a few rolls of basic
bandages and a collection of small vials that Zim thought might be
painkillers or anti-biotics. They'd have to test those later. He had a
few more doubtful objects like the broken medical tricorder and a rather
exotic looking dermal regenerator. He'd try fix them later.
The pride of Zim's hunt so far though was a small airtight jar, filled
with an off green liquid and...something. Zim hadn't done enough medical
training to work out what it was but he thought it might look good in
sickbay, even if it just scared a few people off.
For
too
she
her
her part, Des was examing the jar. She wasn't about to mess with it
much, but she was perfectly willing to look for the moment and see if
could figure out precisely what it was. Giving up, she straightened
back and stuck her hands on her hips to take a look at their finds.
"Not a bad haul so far, considering." He peered at some of Desdemona's
items, "Nice going."
Des grinned at him, "Coming from a Ferengi, I'll take that as high praise
indeed," she commented, "You've got yourself quite a bit here. I don't
know yet what half of it is and that scares me a little, but what's life
without some chances?"
For her own cache, she had managed to find mostly first aid stuff - some
more bandages and a gel that looked a little like dermaline, burn
treatment, gel, but she couldn't quite be sure. There were also a few
vials and something that resembled a hypo.
"Reckon we should try and take some of the cots?"
She nodded slowly, "I thought about that, but only one or two - cause
there's only one or two that look like they hold any weight at all
without crumbling. Besides, our space in sickbay is limited for stuff of
that size."
"Yeah we would be a little short on space...we could always pack them
away until we needed them." Zim went to the nearest cot and gave it a
little shake. It creaked a little but stayed in one piece. He threw the
old and dodgy looking bedding out and started dragging it to the sled.
Coming around to the other side of the sled, Des looked at the cot then
to Zim. "You need a hand with that?" she asked, but didn't really wait
for an answer, instead just grabbed the other side.
"It's heavier than it looks." said Zim with a grunt.
She laughed, "Things usually are," she replied and then the pair managed
to wrangle that cot and one other up on to the sled. Dusting her hands
off before putting them on her hips, she gave a satisfied nod. "I think
that's a fair haul for the day, don't you agree?"
Zim bobbed his head and grinned, "Every little helps, and this is more
than a little."
"Right," she grinned, "Let's get back to the ship and find where to hide
some of this stuff for the crew doesn't come scavenge us!"
=/\= Faylinn =/\=
"I want to thank you again," Nandra said to Tianna with a smile as the
pair walked through the front doors of the hospital.
Two days had passed before Shinandra finally convinced herself to return
to Faylinn for the tour of the hospital. She realized that she herself
had asked for it and it wasn't that she'd had an unpleasant trip down
last time, but she was still distrusting. Yes, yes, it was true that no
one had had an adverse visit in all the time the planet had been here,
but still...
(The fact that she had hidden a scanning/recording device in her bag
didn't help her nervousness. It wasn't that she wanted to sneak around on
the people who were seemingly so nice, but sometimes she didn't know if
they had an ability to hide anything, so best not to let them know...at
least that's what she kept telling herself.)
"It is no trouble at all," Tianna replied, "I'm more than happy to speak
with a fellow physician."
The pair walked down the bright corridor with Nandra's security escort
close by, although not saying much today.
Nandra tried to figure out exactly how to go about asking what she wanted
to ask without sounding like some sort of interrogator. "I was wondering
if you could tell me a little bit about your population control." That
was the ticket, just spit it out.
"Ah, yes," the other Doctor said, nodding, "It's simple, really. When a
couple wishes to have a child, they are permitted to have one child. At
the same time, they supply a fertilized egg that is kept in complete
security in our clinic's vaults."
Tilting her head slightly in curiosity, Nandra asked, "If a couple is
only allowed to have one child, why the second egg?"
Tianna bowed her head slightly, "Well, although we do not like to dwell
on the unpleasant, the second egg is a precautionary measure. If a couple
suffers the tragedy of losing their child, the second egg is given back
to them and they are allowed to have another baby."
"What happens if they don't lose their child? What happens to the other
egg?" Nandra asked, questions coming easier as her curiosity grew.
"If the child reaches their eighteenth year, it is an adult and the
second egg is destroyed," Tianna glanced towards Nandra, "It is done in a
small and private ceremony for the parents."
To this, Shinandra nodded thoughtfully. She couldn't imagine a Terran
society accepting such a protocol so serenely, especially if it was just
to maintain an 'idyllic' state and not out of emergency, but perhaps if
they'd been raised with it. Either way, that sort of thinking wasn't
going to help this moment much.
Shinandra and Tianna made their way through the second level and then the
third. Between the two, Nandra couldn't help but notice that there were
probably only two or three patients. True, Tianna had explained that last
time, but with a hospital of this size...it was remarkable.
"I can see that you are still puzzled by the small number of patients,"
Tianna commented, looking at Nandra as they passed the last room on the
hall, which contained two patients, seemingly happy and talking to one
another.
Nandra laughed quietly, "I didn't realize I was so transparent. It is
impressive," she replied.
"We strive to be happy and healthy. That's our primary goal here," the
Felim Doctor continued as they made their way up to the fourth level. "As
you have seen from some of the lower levels and will see more on this
one, most of our building is given over to research so that we can seek
to eradicate as much illness as possible. It's how we maintain such a
healthy population and keep the hospital from housing too many patients."
The pair next walked in to the main room of the fourth floor.
It was a huge room, entirely open and airy, just like every other floor
had been. There were long tables on either side with a single aisle in
the middle, each one with a pair of Felims appearing to be very hard at
work. She couldn't tell what the work was, but the laboratories were more
impressive.
It was definitely not like anything she had on BoB - it was even better
than what she'd had on 604, which was a nice base all on its own.
"This is remarkable," Shinandra said honestly.
Tianna smiled, "Thank you."
Moving on, she turned her attention from looking around and turned back
to the other Doctor, "If you've eradicated most illness on Faylinn, is
there much left for your scientists to do?" she asked curiously.
"There are sometimes new diseases popping up or other problems that we
like to work on. We also study the results of diseases, even already
eradicated ones, so that we know more and are better prepared in the
future."
It sounded convincing, although she still imagined that there couldn't be
all that much for so many of them to be working on.
Tianna turned and started walking back out and headed downwards.
Shinandra was surprised, as this building looked taller than four floors,
as spacious as it was, but she wasn't going to ask. Tianna had been very
kind as it was.
Back on the first floor, Shinandra smiled and Doctor Tianna. "I
appreciate your showing me around. You have a most remarkable hospital
here."
"That means a lot coming from another Doctor and one who has seen as much
as you have," Tianna replied, although there was no hint of envy or
wishing to see those things herself in her voice.
Shinandra smiled again, gave a nod of farewell and left the hospital,
headed in to town. There was something bothering her in the back of her
mind, but she wasn't sure what it was just yet. Maybe getting back up to
BoB and studying her scans would help...
Otherwise, maybe she was just overly tense for no reason. Maybe a little
more shore leave would help...
Like so many other things, she'd just have to figure that one out.
=/\= Beach - Faylinn =/\=
This time around, the major debate for Shinandra had been to make herself
go to the beach. She decided to put duty aside for a while, a very short
while mind you, but a little while none the less, and take advantage of
the serene setting of the Faylinn beach...before things went south. She
was still convinced that something was going to go horribly wrong any
moment now, but she was able to ignore that thought for the time being
and take some beach time.
She decided not to think about either of her visits to the hospital or
the data that was currently being transferred out of her recorder and
waiting for her to study it. She'd do that later, after this forced
period of relaxation.
For the Doctor, going to the beach was not an extravagant affair. She had
her bathing suit on under her clothes - the outer layer consisted of a
skirt that reached her ankles and was made from a light weight crinkled
fabric of pale purple with a white button down shirt she had tied at the
waist with the sleeves rolled up. Otherwise, she had a small bag with a
towel, novel, sun glasses and suntan lotion.
Her guard of the day was not far behind her, but keeping his distance. He
didn't seem quite as friendly as the last, but she wasn't quite feeling
up to drawing him out, so it all worked in the end.
She found the beach to be pretty busy by the time she arrived, but not
overly crowded, so she wasn't going to complain. Finding herself a
relatively quiet area, she took out her towel and laid it over the sand.
The bag took perch beside it while she slid out of the shirt and skirt to
reveal the simple light blue bikini underneath.
As she lay on her stomach on the towel, taking up her novel, she couldn't
help but think that Puggy would have enjoyed this, but she didn't want to
chance bringing her down here. As far as she knew, the rule stood as
don't take any animals from the surface to the station, but not the other
way around...still, she didn't want to take any chances.
The sun and breeze felt insanely good upon her back. Without even trying,
she felt herself relaxing in to it, the heat sinking in to her muscles
and easing the tension there.
Slowly, she found her thoughts beginning to wander on their own, drifting
away from the story she was reading. (It didn't help she'd chosen a
romance novel to bring down with her, but it struck her as a good beach
read.) Even thoughts that she wouldn't normally consider entertaining
were allowed in for a visit as she continued to relax.
She thought about Avery, although she tried to push those thoughts out.
She thought about Cade...after a few moments, she tried to push them
away, too. Both endeavors of thought control were not thrillingly
successful. She even had thoughts dance through her mind of tossing
herself in to some fling with some good looking man just to help erase
thoughts of what happened with Avery. It didn't matter that some time had
passed, she still couldn't believe she had done that...or what she was
considering now.
No...No...She wasn't really considering anything - it was just a passing
thought due to the overly comfortable nature of the beach.
Surprisingly, she even found her mind wandering back to New Babel and
Erris II. Folding her arms over her novel, she leaned her head down and
closed her eyes. She would have been married by now, had she remained. It
probably would have been an arranged marriage, had she not found someone
she *wanted* to marry by the age of twenty-three.
She probably would have been ruling New Babel...She probably would have
children...
She certainly wouldn't have been married to anyone like Avery or Cade or
just about any other man she had met in her years away. The men of Erris
II were not quite like the most men in other places. Any man she'd have
wed would not have been very strong...strong of body, perhaps, but not of
mind or of will. New Babel was terribly matriarchal and her mother's
rather domineering nature only cemented that. Shinandra thought about how
she probably would've been tied to some nervous creature who she could
'rule' like she did the population.
Despite the warmth, Nandra could feel an involuntary shudder run down her
spine. She would never want to be with a man like that. Equality was a
valuable trait to her - she wanted someone equal to her in more ways than
not. Leaving Erris II had shown her that they existed, although she never
had time for them until now.
Did she really have the time or inclination for it now?
That was another unwanted thought she tried to push under the rug.
Suddenly, a deep male voice above her caught her attention. She opened
her eyes to see her guard. "Ma'am?" he asked. He was kneeling beside her
towel. "It's time to return to the station, Doctor Alleir."
"Ah, yes, thank you," she forced a smile and blinked. Four hours had
already passed! She didn't know where the time went. Pushing herself to
her feet, she slipped back in to her skirt and shirt, stuffing the towel
and novel in to her bag and then she followed the man from the beach back
to the awaiting transport.
=/\= Pitt's Treasures - Starbase BoB =/\=
Things had certainly piled up in his absence. Not that he'd expected
otherwise. A layer of dust (which he was determined to ignore
indefinitely) had gathered on the glass cases in the display portion of
the shop and a stack of messages and deliveries where in the drop box.
More messages awaited him on his computer terminal.
There was a rose, which had dried itself admirably while waiting for his
return. Idly he slipped it into a cobalt glass vase as he walked past a
rack, arms full of other items that had also arrive during his stay on
Raven. He stacked the boxes on a table along the back wall of his office
and went back for another stack. Three trips later he finally had
everything where he could sit and work on it in a more leisurely fashion.
Several of the boxes contained pieces he'd purchased, including a 500
year old golden pocketwatch on a matching chain. He'd bought it to send
to his father for his birthday which was a few weeks away. Ken always
made a point of purchasing something expensive and highly appropriate for
his father for the major holidays. His way of letting the old man know
that he was still successful and still not coming home with tail between
legs. Chuckling he sat the watch aside, he'd write a nice note later and
send it on it's way.
Other boxes contained items he'd taken on as commissions. He piled those
together so that they could be properly catalogued and added to his
public inventory. He was overdue in updating his available inventory on a
number of the major antiques announcements boards anyway. Between what
he'd purchased at the auction and the new commissions he'd received, he'd
have to set aside an entire day for the task. Pitt turned to his calendar
right away and blacked out a day a couple weeks away. That gave him time
to get everything off his ship and into the workspace he'd set up for
storage and authentication.
With the bulk of the deliveries out of the way and a queue of over 500
messages still waiting, he took a break to retrieve the yellow rose from
the store area, after a moment's hesitation he brought the vase along as
well, sitting it on the corner of his desk. The two really were very
striking together. He grinned as he read the attached note and then
jotted off a message to Mulder, thanking her for the gift and inviting
her to help him in a few weeks when he did a major inventory addition. It
was always helpful to have a second pair of hands when one was paging
through endless volumes trying to find information on some obscure,
practically undocumented piece.
Pitt took another look at the list of messages and contemplated ignoring
them until tomorrow. Then he remembered the very large planetary surprise
that had greeted him on his approach to BoB. Curiosity got the better of
him and he scanned the list for messages that might pertain to the planet
and it's appearance.
Several minutes later he sat back, the decision to ignore all his other
mail made for him by the shoreleave announcement. Happily he shut off his
terminal and closed up shop. There'd be plenty of time for work after
he'd had himself a small trip to the planet.
"Funeral Trumpery"
=/\= Argellius =/\=
The hall was both magnificently dressed in gold and brass, and somber in
draped silks of black and deepest purples. Each column that supported the
long hallway was wrapped almost completely covered in the cloth, as were
the majority of the hanging tapestries and ornate furniture. The
traditional guards, dressed in overlapping thin plates of ceremonial but
functional armor, long-bladed spears in hand. The seats that normally
populated the House hall in rows during court, or along tables during
feasts were now pushed back to widen the aisle, and in the center of the
hallway was a pyre of seasoned logs, hiding the much more modern plasma
generator inside. Rice paper overlaid the dark wine-colored carpets that
led from the double doorways to the funeral pyre.
With the exception of the processional way, the entire area was packed
wall-to-wall; the generous heart and love of her people had made Rak'hael
Jerillion a name well known throughout the planet. With the exception of
the retainers and House members in their already dark purple House
uniforms, the assembly was clothed and covered in the purest of white, as
was appropriate for the mourning customs of Argellius. They waited in
somewhat orderly rows with heads bent in quiet conversations, or staring
about the hallway.
Ron quietly closed the door he'd cracked open to look at the hall. He and
Mulder, along with a few other higher-ranking retainers in the House
waited at one side of the hallway, with Ilisisone Jerillion and the other
members on the opposite side of the hall. "The mourning party will come
in each side of the hall and gather at the base of the pyre." Ron
explained as the majordomo chivied them into their places. "Each person's
placement in the line is based upon the rank and placing within the
House, as well as within the circle of the Powers That Be on Argellius."
He sneered as he gestured at the door. "Grandfather placing me at the
front of the line is just a set up. How much d'you want to bet that he
announces my Regency for the House before the funeral ends?"
"Easy, tiger." she shot him a quick look. "There's no point in getting
worked up about that. It's not going to happen, anyway, not once we've
done what we're going to do. Relax - stay cool - and focus."
Ron forced his teeth to unclench, his fists to relax. "You're right." He
sighed, giving himself a physical shake as well as a mental one. "See?"
he asked sunnily. "What would I do without you?"
Giving a suppressed snort she replied, "Do? Exactly as you damn well
please. It's what you do with *or* without me, you stubborn ass."
"Probably."
For what it's worth, I'd probably do the same."
He winked at her, and then set his face in a more somber expression as he
worked his way to towards the door. Just before he stepped through the
threshold, Elises plucked at his sleeve. Frowning, he stepped aside to
bend his ear towards whispering lips.
Mulder saw his face harden into hatred, then impassivity as he nodded,
and then he headed out with her right behind him.
The first thing that struck her was the vastness of the room. It was
simply *huge*, reminiscent of some of the more magnificent terran
cathederals, but this was all in white. Along each side was a massive
group of people standing, wearing mostly white with a few somber colors
scattered in the crowd. Although there must have been over five thousand
people there, the atmosphere was hushed and reverend.
The long walk to the front, or nave end, of the massive room seemed to
last forever. At the end a neatly laid pile of various perfumed woods lay
upon a raised dais. Standing on the highest step wass Ilisisone Jerillion
and his Second, Foester. She gave the Second a sneering glance, her hands
itching to slap him after his behaviour towards her the other night. He
was scum, and she hoped to be able to witnes his downfall - if Ron's plan
worked.
That was the trouble, though. She didn't know what Ron's plan *was*...
Ron walked quietly, face passive, towards the dais. He could feel Mulder
beside him, strengthening him and buoying him up with her presence. He
wanted to twine his fingers around hers, to feel the warmth of her skin
against his as he approached the man whom he'd feared and even hated for
the majority of his life. And now. now, he was afraid. Afraid of what was
going to happen. Afraid of what he was going to do, and the consequences
thereof.
But mostly. mostly, he was afraid of what would happen if he failed.
He forced himself to climb up the steps, raising one wooden leg after the
other until he could about-face himself, turning his back to his
grandfather. He faced the crowd of faces - some sad and mournful, others
ranging from envy to adulation. He bit the inside of his lip to keep
himself from frowning at them, from yelling at them, telling them to all
go to Hell as other members of the Great and Major Houses filed in to
take their places in a semi-circle around the ceremonial platform. He
concentrated of the slight, brief glimpses he could catch from the corner
of his eye; it was all he could do right now to not throw himself into
Caz's arms and scream out his rage and sorrow. Instead, he caught it all,
trapped it deep inside, where it would stay until the time to unleash it
came.
Almost simultaneously, she felt a momentary wave of compressed fury, and
shot him an anxious look. Whatever he had up his sleeve, he needed a cool
head to pull it off, and for a moment she felt a flash of doubt, as
warning bells sounded. But, just as soon as it appeared, it was gone. She
knew the anger was still there, but her sixth sense told her he was
holding it in, and for a fraction of a second, she relaxed.
Part of her was feeling the anticipation of the hunt. Once, many years
ago when she had been a cop back on Aarius she had dealt with a
particularly tragic case. A small child had disappeard, and his father his only living relative - had been distraught. There had been a ransom
demand issued, which the father had paid "before * he had contacted the
police, and too late they were trying to pick up the trail. Mulder had
worked day and night on the case, and eventually made a horrific
discovery.
The child was dead, they found his small carpe, and it was clear that the
father himself had been the murderer - the "ransom money" a clever tax
evasion. About to go on planetary holovid to beg for any information
about his son, the murderous father had not seen Mulder quietly enter the
back of the transmission studio. She had watched, detached, as he
accepted the fuss and sympathy of those around him, knowing that any
moment she would pounce and accuse him of being the evil murdering
bastard that he was.
But that was then, and she had had a whole unit of armed law enforcement
officers waiting outside, and the law was on her side. Here, she felt
that same sense of anticipation, of vengeance and justice about to be
enacted - but it frightened her, as she was not the one in control.
She didn't even know the plan - if there was one - and it made her feel
vulnerable. Knowing she would back Ron whatever happened, she still felt
uneasy. Whatever he did, she hoped he would do it quickly - and
thoroughly. Dimly through the fog of remembrance she jerked herself back
to a state of alertness and became aware that the proceedings were
beginning.
Behind him, his Grandfather cleared his throat as the crowd settled into
a quiet murmur of voices. "Thank you all for coming." He announced in an
imperious voice. "We have gathered here today to celebrate the passing of
my daughter, Rak'hael Jerillion. and, the return of her son, my grandson,
Ranag Jerillion. In fact, I will bring joy to this celebration with the
announcement of my grandson assuming the Regency of the House in the
place of his mother. He will-"
"STOP!" The shouted command rang through out the great hall, echoing in
the silence it had created.
=/\= Main Engineering - Starbase BoB =/\=
Cade strolled through the doors and into uncharted territory, for him at
least. It was his first visit to Main Engineering since the furr-fish
incident and things were a little more hectic then. Or so he thought. It
looked as if a maelstrom had struck the deck, but he didn't know if it
was a normal state or not.
"Enter at your own risk," a voice rang out. "If you fall over anything,
we'll laugh at you, but if you look suitably annoyed we'll offer a hand
to help you up."
"Ahh, Lieutenant Omar. How goes the battle with forces of gravity today?"
"I'm winning, as always. At last count I weighed 65kg and it's still
rising." She winked.
He smiled. "No, I'm genuinely interested. If I was trying to make small
talk, I'd be asking about your upcoming nuptials. Captain Mulder left me
in charge, and I'd like to hand the station back to her in more or less
the same condition that she left it." He shrugged as if to say it wasn't
very likely.
"Ah," Omar said. "We're still tweaking the orbiting, but for now, we've
selected reference coordinates which will keep us from nudging any errant
planet."
"That sounds like it would be optimal," he intoned in his best Spock
impersonation, which wasn't that good.
"So how come you're not abusing power and making a beeline for the
beach?" Omar asked resignedly. She certainly wished she could take some
time off.
"Actually, I will be heading for the beach, but I wanted to get some
abuse in to tide me over until I got back," he shot back at her.
"But of course. Once a marine, always a bully," she deadpanned. "So is
Engineering the practice or warm-up session?"
"Well, I thought I would try it down here, but you have too many ways of
injuring me and making it look like a complete accident, so I think I'll
curb my tyrannical ways for the moment." The smile never left his face
while he was talking.
"A wise action indeed, Mr Vaughn," she broke into a smile in spite of
herself. "Delinquents get sent here." She had Godard in mind. But for
some reason, Engineering department appeared to be a representation of
Starbase BoB on the whole. The screw-ups found their niche there.
"To change the topic, why haven't you taken any shore leave yet? I
checked the records and I noticed that you and Lieutenant Mattingly have
yet to leave the station." He figured that it was his job to see to the
welfare of the other senior officers until he could appoint an XO. And
truth be told, he liked Baxter...against all odds, the chocolate swilling
officer was interesting to Cade. And anyone that was going to marry the
guy was definitely going to need some R & R.
"Firstly, I've not had the time - what with keeping the base on orbit and
my wedding. And secondly, Baxter's been busy as well, though we might
actually consider it later today." Yus Omar truly hoped she'd get some
rest if that wasn't asking for too much. She had not seen the sun since
she could remember and she was almost vying with Mulder in the paleness
category.
"As the man used to say, 'Make it so.' You guys should get away." He
grinned. "You don't want to be the only ones to not enjoy Shangri-La.
You've heard the stories, I suppose?"
"Quite a few have gotten their innoculations and are roaming the planet.
For instance, the Pisces Girls. Perhaps you know them?" Omar asked coyly,
implying that the marine would have had resorted to engaging their
services at one point or the other. She watched carefully for his
reaction, interested to see how he would respond.
"Nice try, Lieutenant, but you need to have better bait than that to get
me to bite," he said with a smile. "I know of the 'ladies,' but have not
had the need to see them professionally, since I know you're wondering."
"Who me?" Omar feigned innocence. "Wondering? Never." She wondered why
not. The girls were somewhat attractive, after all.
"I prefer my women to have a little more between the ears than they do,"
he replied quickly.
"I see," Omar began before remembering that she wasn't wondering at all.
Damn the man for reading my mind, she thought. "That's lovely, Mr
Vaughn," she amended, "but I have information that those ladies in
question have a new business venture, albeit a rather wild and dangerous
one - and I'm not talking about anything in bed. Yet."
"Uh-oh." Deciding he better get comfortable, Cade crossed his arms over
his chest and leaned against a clean spot on the wall. "Now what have
they done?"
"I think they're planning a love fest on a boat - at a price, of course.
The boat in particular is undersized and one of those four ladies," she
cleared her throat, "rather oversized, I'm afraid. It could lead to a
'man overboard' situation. Or in this case, 'ladies overboard'."
With a sardonic grin he responded, "And just why, Lieutenant Omar, do you
think that this information is of vital importance to me?"
"Well, for one, they reside in BoB and it would be of your interest to
know. And perhaps to avoid any unwarranted accident?" she suggested, with
a hint of a smile.
"Well, all I can say is that you need to update your intelligence
sources." He winked at her. "One of my marines was on R&R on a beach down
there and happened to see four women pile into an inflatable boat
complete with advertising banner."
"What?" she couldn't help herself. "They've already gone and done it?"
His smile got wider. "And that's not the best part. Apparently there was
some sort of 'incident' and the boat capsized and spilled them all into
the ocean. Someone reported that that psycho Mitsuko came out of the
water with them."
"And capsized too??" she echoed belatedly in surprise and dismay. She was
certain the presence of the boat in question would be fruit for more
gossip.
"Rumor going around now is that they're working on something 'bigger and
better,' which I shudder to think about the ramifications."
"They're fast." There was hope in the horizon.
"Too fast," Cade agreed. "Our own band of sexually perverted Alexander
Graham Bells." He would have used Zephram Cochrane, but Bell was safer
...they didn't use the telephone anymore.
Omar narrowed her eyes at him. The nerve. A part of her had to admit he
was rather an intelligent fellow, contrary to her expectations that
marines weren't the brightest bulbs in the Christmas tree - presumably
due to the knocking around they received in training.
Cade kicked his toe into the floor for a moment. "There was something
else that I wanted to talk to you about."
"The command positions." He looks a little uncomfortable and it could
only be that, Omar thought.
"Yeah," he sighed. "I, for some odd reason, feel that I owe you an
explanation. With the trouble you've been having maintaining the orbit
and preparing for your wedding, I didn't want to heap more trouble on
your plate." Despite his conviction of not wanting bruised egos around,
he thought it was a good idea to explain to Yus why he hadn't selected
her for either of the command positions.
Yus studied him expressionlessly for a moment and then decided to cut him
some slack. "Don't worry about it," she laughed, "in fact, I think it's
considerate of you to let me go about and do my thing without the added
responsibility. The truth is," her face showed a slight haggard paleness,
"I do need some rest and plenty of time to plan for the upcoming
wedding."
Cade exhaled in relief. "Good." Then he smiled. "And I also figured that
if Parvis wants to try to order you to do something abnormal, even for
him, that you'd put the hydrospanner where his mouth is."
"Sure thing. That's if I can get his foot out first," she grinned.
"Good. That's what I was hoping for." He straightened back up and rubbed
his hands together. "Now that the serious stuff is out of the way, do you
have time to give an ignorant marine a tour of how a starbase's
engineering section works?"
"Well, you asked for it," Yus warned before adding, "It would be my
pleasure."
"Excellent. Lead on then, fair lady." He started walking after her and
added, "And if at any point I'm in the way, just tell me."
"Tell you?" Omar echoed with a slight twinkle. "I'd shove you out of the
way - not tell you!"
"Yeah, I didn't think you would..."
"Just satisfying my quota for love and sunshine in the world, Captain
Vaughn," she choked back her laughter as she keyed in some access codes.
"So, this is where the magic happens," he asked as he walked into the
room behind her and looked around at the banks of controls and screens.
"You're getting there, my man," she turned to the life support monitors.
"This is what keeps the base alive. It's high security, and I'd think
this would be the first place to overthrow to gain real control."
"All of the environmental functions can be controlled from down here,
then?"
"Yep," she agreed, "turn these off and it's hasta la vista to Starbase
BoB."
He was uncomfortable with the thought of a single room with that much
importance to the base. Especially a base that looked as though shedding
hull plating was a natural thing. "So what controls the orbit you're
trying to keep us in? Is that here, too?"
"Nope, it's further up," Omar replied.
"Then let's go. I want to see everything." He paused. "Okay, not
everything, I don't think it will be necessary to inspect the waste
reclamation system today."
"Damn, but they'll be so miffed you're passing them up. Are the Jeffries
Tubes in your agenda for today as well? Some can be really narrow and
half of those on the base don't go anywhere," Omar grinned
mischieviously.
He laughed. "Okay, add 'Really Narrow Jeffries Tubes That Don't Go
Anywhere' onto the list as well."
"Done deal. Any more preferences for the Tour De 'Base?" Yus quipped.
"Oh, and that's where the shield controls are. I always have someone
monitoring it," she returned the salute by one of her crew.
He just shook his head at the mention of shields for BoB. Despite the
evidence of how well it worked against the MU 8472's, he still retained
very little respect for the 'donut.' "Anything that you think that I
might find interesting." He checked himself. "You know what? Let's just
stick with the orbital controls and maneuvering things."
"Okay, here we are. Orbit controls. That's very similar to PLC used in
the 21st century," she pointed to an immense system purring quietly in
the room.
"Hmmmm," was the only reply as he studied the impressive array of pipes,
tubes, control panels, whirring thingies, and flashing lights.
"Penny for your thoughts? Or in light of inflation, should I say 'latinum
for your thoughts'?" Omar murmured.
"Oh, I was just thinking that I was little surprised to find something so
well maintained on this station." He quickly smiled at her. "No offense
intended. I was referring, of course, to the perpetual shortage of spare
parts."
"Ah. In this case, some of the credit actually goes to Baxter Mattingly,
Smuggler Extraordinaire. When I desperately need spare parts in a hurry,
he manages to spirit them out of the Starfleet warehouse. At no cost. But
you didn't hear that from me." Yus put on her most innocent expression.
"Well, I thank you for your time, Lieutenant. It's been...educational."
"Anytime."
"Blood Cries Out"
=/\= Argellius =/\=
"STOP!" The shouted command rang through out the great hall, echoing in
the silence it had created. Mulder had to stop herself from giving a
noisy exhalation of relief. It had begun. Even Ilisisone looked down upon
Ron, startled.
Turning slowly, Ron caught Mulder's eye, and then looked towards Foester.
Keeping her face impassive she just flicked one eyebrow upwards a
fraction to signal that she understood. He wanted her to keep Foester
from interfering in whatever happened next. Subtly, she angled her body
away from Ron and towards Foester.
Ron studied the man in front of him, his face only a foot or so higher
than his own. As Ilisisone opened his mouth to speak, Ron's hand darted
out, bringing a sharp, resounding 'crack' as it spun the older man's head
around. Foester's face lit with rage, flushing red as he stepped forward.
Mulder was already there, right in front of him, and he had to stop
momentarily to check his balance, or canon straight into her.
She pointed straight towards his eye with a short, air-jabbing movement which again caused him to hesitate. "Fool!" she hissed at him, "You would
interrupt the sacred family bonding rite of Fr'acxi Alid'oc Ious. Stay
back or forever dishonor your master."
The Second stopped, confused by her response. There was no such rite and
the name made no sense - which was only to be expected as she'd just said
the first load of gibberish that popped into her head. But the
authoritative tone in which she'd said it, topped by her startling and
unusual appearance, had given them a much needed confusion-break.
Spinning round to face Ron again, she gave a slight bow. "Proceed, my
Lord," she said in ringing tones. Ron merely nodded, and then announced
in a calm voice "Ilisisone Jerillion, Master of House Jerillion, I accuse
you of dishonoring your House, your name and your family." The collective
gasp of shock was a near tangible thing, as if wrung from each person's
dying breath.
Unaffected, Ron's hand shot out again, delivering a stinging slap on the
other cheek, again nearly spinning the older man completely around. As
Ilisisone turned back, a trickle of blood tracing from the corner of his
mouth and down the split in his cheek, Ron stated clearly and quietly "I
accuse you of T'raeleinst - Kin murder."
The law enforcement officer that still lurked inside Mulder was yelping
in dismay at the accusation with concrete, admissible evidence. The
maverick inside her was murmuring approval of the bold, straight-for-thethroat attack. The practical female inside of her was hoping that things
wouldn't get too rough, too quickly, before she'd had time to suss out a
quick escape route.
Ilisisone's face fell from anger into a rather shocked dismay. "Ranag,
wha...whatever do you mean? I never-"
"Shut *up*!" Ron snapped, hands clenching into fists. "You have brought
shame and disgrace upon a Great House with the murder of your daughter!
You have led the people under your roof, under your protection, into a
Hell which they cannot escape - and then killed my *mother* to cover it
up when she discovered it!" He trembled with rage now, his entire body
visibly shaking. "I demand satisfaction! I *demand* that you leave this
House, and never enter again!"
"HOW DARE YOU ACCUSE ME!" Thundered the older Argellian, spraying his
grandson with blood and spittle as he roared. "YOU BASTARD! YOU
UNGRATEFUL WHELP! I HAVE OFFERED YOU *EVERYTHING* - AND YOU THROW IT BACK
IN MY FACE!"
Beside him, Foester grinned evilly, and stepped forward, impeded only by
Mulder's body standing between him and Ron. Straightening, Ilisisone
dabbed his face with the handkerchief his Second had given him. "Ranag!
Take this all back, right now!" Looking over Ron's head, the House Lord
spread his hands in supplication to the crowd of witnesses in front of
them. "This poor boy - he has come home to find his mother dead! He is
*mad* with grief - you *must* forgive him."
Behind them, the crowd collectively sighed in relief and sympathy. Ron
waited until an expectant silence returned before announcing, "I will not
rescind my accusation, Ilisisone Jerillion. I accuse you of T'raeleinst.
You have murdered my mother. Her blood cries out for justice!"
"What? Are you *insane*, boy?" Ilisisone laughed, a genuine belly laugh
of amusement. "Have you forgotten Argellian law, having been away from
your home for so long? Where's your proof? In order to accuse a member of
a Great House, you must bring *proof* of the crime!" He paused, a hand on
hip while he waved the bloodied cloth in the other. "Where's your
*proof*, Ranag?"
Ron struggled to keep his face impassive. "The proof that I would bring
would endanger others to your wrath. Because of that, I envoke the right
of Vre'Denai."
This
from
time
want
brought a startled chuckle from Ilisisone, and a rolling grumble
the crowd behind them. "Vre'Denai? That's an ancient custom from a
long forgotten, Ranag. You can't bring that up here - not if you
to be taken seriously!"
Ron's face slipped, disdain and anger showing out from behind the
inexpressive mask. "Why not? Do you fear the possibility of justice being
served upon you from the Old Ways? Are you afraid that my Second will
take the head from your body upon victory?" He crossed his arms over his
chest, the shadow of a sneer at the corner of his mouth. "It is an old
law, yes - but it was left in place to prevent tyrants from crushing
those beneath them. And it is my right. Will you yield?"
Foester grabbed at the House Lord, bending to whisper into his ear. The
light in his eyes was nothing more than murderous glee. Ilisisone shook
him off, and glared down at his grandson. "You don't even *have* a
Second, Ranag! You have no one close enough to you. You must have one who
has suffered trials with you, spilt blood with you, one who had forced
you to learn and grow whilst growing and learning from you! You never
*had* a Second selected for you, Ranag."
Ron turned slightly, angling his body to include Caz, who took a step
forward. "Where * I* come from, sometimes Seconds select themselves," she
growled as fiercely as she possibly could.
Ilisisone looked from Foester to Mulder. "You. you *surely* must be
*joking*, boy! A *woman* can't be your Second! It's. it's just wrong!"
"And why not?" Ron asked quietly. "Captain Mulder has suffered many
difficulties by my side. She and I have spilt the blood of enemies
together. I have learned much, and become a different person, simply from
having her in my life. She is closer to me than any other sentient in
existence."
"What he said," she lounged nonchalantly against a pillar, and then
wondered if a little more passion would be in order. Dammit, she was used
to operating without seeing the script, but this was like operating
without knowing the name of the play, the type of scene, or any of the
other actors either.
So she re-arranged her face into a haughty glare. "Lord Jerillion and I
are as One. Our bodies, hearts, souls and minds have mingled and become
more than the sum of the two parts. Together we live, and when I fight, I
fight with his shield of honour to protect me. Deny me the right to slay
oppressors of Argellius and you deny your own birthright."
As he knelt, Ilisisone's face contorted in fury. "You are a *fool*!" he
hissed at them. "Foester will devastate her - and he will take your head,
just for the joy of it! You have gone too far, bratling whelp!" The older
man shook a fist under Ron's nose. "I should've drowned you at birth!"
He spat again, then rose, his face transforming from wrath to sorrow.
"Very well," he announced into the air. "If I cannot satisfy you in any
other way, Beloved Grandson." He sighed heavily, shoulders slumping as if
he were deflating, ".I will give you what you want." He clapped his hands
together solemnly once, twice, thrice.
"Prepare the circle for Vre'Denai!"
=/\= A/CO Office - Starbase BoB =/\=
Cade slapped down the computer screen with a satsified, "Done," to no one
in particular. Particularly since there wasn't anyone else there. So far,
he'd managed to avoid Yeoman Wilkins and the ever present threat of more
paperwork that she represented. Maybe he should of told her that he was
using a different office than Mulder's...
It had been a productive day. Sort of. At least he was caught up on the
reports he had to review and was current on his own reports to Gamma
Command. He'd even managed time to find Mr. Angel's addendum to Mr.
Maru's first orders. It had made the marine in him smile, but as CO he
was going to have to pull Jack aside and have a little chat regarding
protocol and the command structure. Maybe he'd get to that tomorrow. Or
put it off until Mulder got back and let her deal with it.
Still, Angel's action had prevented the Ops and Flight Ops departments
from doing a load of unnecessary busy work. And Cade's own actions ending
the embargo on Mitsuko and stripping the extra bodyguards from the
command team were just as undermining, if a little more proper. He would
have liked to tell Parvis to his face, but the little blue guy seemed to
have gotten himself lost in the Felim's Hall of Records or whatever they
called the place.
Cade glanced at his watch and made his last command decision of the shift
and day. He would skip evening tea in favor of a pint or three. A healthy
walk and turbolift ride later, he was walking down the Lower Promenade.
He spent far too much time on the upper two promenade levels, and thought
it was time to revisit the bottom level. It was a bit darker and smellier
than the other two, but had it's own ambiance just the same.
He made to pretense to enter the Sing-A-Ding something or other,
especially from the sounds - of what he supposed was singing but actually
sounded like cats being tortured by the dozens - coming from within. A
newer bar had opened up down here that he'd heard was decent. Not a pub.
A proper pub with a somewhat respectable publican and decent Anglo-Celtic
decor would not be confused for this place.
The neon Budweiser sign in the front window beckoned patrons into the
Black Hole Bar & Grill, which was a misnomer since there wasn't a grill
anywhere to be found in the premises. A replicator that was barely
capable of producing a bowl of peanuts was the establishment's sole
contribution to nutrition. Cade stepped inside and smiled. What it lacked
in solid foods, it more than made up for in the liquid variety. He
estimated there were at least 30 taps running along the bar and the wall
behind it.
A pool table lit by a single hanging lamp occupied the far back of the
bar and was kept company by a half dozen viewscreens that were spread
around the place and set to various sporting events and news channels.
Cade nodded to a couple of patrons at one of the few scattered tables.
The return from one of the elderly men was a nod and a tap of his brow
with two fingers. The marine dropped himself onto a stool and glanced at
the taps again as well as the wall rack of liquor bottles.
"Snakebite," he ordered in response to the bartender's raised eyebrow.
As the Guinness oozed into the pint glass, she poured a shot of Jose
Cuervo and waited. Cade watched for a moment before his eyes flicked to
one of the screens. The box scores of the Six Nations Challenge didn't
look good for Wales this year, but he took solace in the fact that at
least France was last.
The bartender returned and dropped the shot glass into the pint. She
smiled brightly when she advised him that, "First round is on the house
for the CO." Despite being in her mid to late twenties, her voice sounded
like she'd been slugging whiskey and smoking unfiltered Pall Malls for
the past 40. Which didn't make it unpleasant, just unexpected.
He thanked her and as she walked away, he guessed at the reason that the
old timers were hanging around. He had a pang of guilty conscience and
willed his eyes to change views from her posterior back to the screen. He
was half-watching it and half-watching his beer glass as the bartender
began the flipping the channels. Something caught his eye in mid sip and
he set the beer down. "Go back for a second."
"No, back another one," he said as the screen paused on an advert for
Klingon female hygience products. The next one was what he'd seen. FBC-7
was broadcasting a massive affair that he wouldn't have paid any
attention to if it hadn't been for the caption across the bottom that
said, "Live from Argellius."
"Turn it up." The volume came up just as Ranag Jerillion bitch-slapped an
elderly gent in front of about a billion viewers. It was at that point
that he noticed Mulder, or more to the point, noticed her outfit. He
drained the rest of the pint and tapped the empty glass on the bar. "Keep
'em coming. I think I'm going to be here a while."
"Point of No Return"
=/\= Argellius =/\=
"Prepare the circle for Vre'Denai!" The words echoed in her head, almost
surreal.
Up until that very moment Mulder had been playing the part of the Second
as she had promised - had even been enjoying it. For some wild reason of
self-delusion, the fact that she was talking about dueling violently to
the death seemed all part of the charade. But now, in that moment, it hit
her - she would be fighting for Ron's honour, and her own life.
*Ah...Ron. Every time I go on holiday with you we end up in a situation
so far beyond our expectations it's just crazy.*
*A simple holiday to Starbase BoB two years ago has led to all this time
in Command, and now attending a family funeral leads to fighting a duel
to the death.* "Never a dull moment, eh?" she murmured lightly, trying to
untangle the knot of fear and confusion that was lying cold in her
stomach.
Ron stood quietly, his shoulder brushing hers. "I know that this is the
time that I am supposed to say 'You don't have to so this, Caz.' "
"No," she said with a reproving tone. "The time to tell me I didn't have
to do this was when you first thought of making a public challenge for
your second to fight for your House. That would have been helpful."
Battling with conflicting feelings, she shook her head and gave a
fatalistic sigh. "So, since we're already so far out of sequence you
could say it now. You could rescind the whole thing if you wanted and let
us try another way. It seems a bit. barbaric, no disrespect an' all that.
Maybe you ought to call for a more civilized way?"
"But
both
face
will
this
I can't. This
Starfleet and
troubled. "If
not only have
madman!"
is the only way to bring justice in this society. And
the Federation have respected it." He turned to her,
I don't do this. if *we* don't do this, a travesty
occurred, but will continue to occur by the hands of
"I know. I understand." The look on her face was troubled.
Gently, he captured her hand in his. "You have no idea how much I hate
myself for maneuvering you into this."
"Well, don't'" she replied promptly, "What's done is done. Because in a
way I'm glad you trusted me to actually win the fight. I can't say I
approve of the method, but I'm letting you lead on this one, it's your
world after all. But what a circus," she finished with a sigh.
"Mmm." He muttered non-committaly. He watched as the other members of the
Houses pushed back to form a circle some fifty feet across. The remainder
of the crowd pressed in, careful not to touch those of the Houses in
front of them, but working hard to gain sight into what is going to
happen. "You understand what is going to happen here, right?"
"I get to kick bad-guy butt."
"Yes. Essentially, it's an ancient form of gladiatorial combat, in which
the common man could overthrow a ruler by one's champion besting the
other. It was assumed that the Creator would show favor to the one who
was right, or most just, or whatever." He shrugged. "As I said, it was
something that the majority population of Argellius insisted stay when
the charter was written with the Federation. It was a safeguard against
tyranny." His eyes grew sad, and he murmured, "You don't have to do this,
you know."
"Yes, I do. I made a pact with you, and if you try and stop me now then
everything we've done so far - everything we've discovered - will all
have been in vain.You trust your honour, your mother's honour and your
whole House-nobility thing on my fighting skills. Which means you either
think of me as some sort of blood-thirsty homicidal maniac, or you love
me and respect me enough to believe in me at the ultimate level. Call me
an optimist, but I'm going for the latter explanation," she tried to give
him a cheerful wink.
He squeezed her hand. "I love you. I wouldn't trade you for anything. Not
justice, not even my mother, Caz." He sighed, and hung his head. "What
have I done?"
"The Right Thing, I guess..."
He looked into her eyes, allowing himself to bathe in the warmth and love
that poured out of them. "If you are certain."
Wordlessly, she nodded, and held his gaze for a full moment. Then she
spoke, "Right then, my Lord." The last two words accompanied by a playful
nudge to the ribs. "I'm presuming we don't to bare-knuckle fisticuffs
here. Who gets to choose weapons? What sort of weapons do we have?
"You will use my weapon. Foester will use Grandfather's weapon of
choice." Ron drew the blade from it's scabbard. The long, curved blade
mimicked that of Ancient Terra's samurai sword - except that it had no
handle. Instead, mounted at the rear of the blade's spine was a loop, and
almost a third of the way up the sword was a handle, perpendicular to the
blade itself. Ron demonstrated its use, sliding his forearm through the
loop to grasp the handle.
"This is a Mae'nda - an Honor Blade. It's something of a cross between a
fending weapon and a katana. It may be a bit awkward at first, because
you don't use it as a sword - more as an extension of your arm. Make
sense?"
"Couldn't I just shoot him instead?" she gave a wry grin. Taking the
weapon, she flexed and extended her arm experimentally for a minute. She
was good with a blade, that much she knew. But her forte was rapier and
broadsword.
This was a whole different weight and style. "I'll learn on the job," she
said briskly, not liking to add that it was a pity the job in question
involved trying to keep a hulking brute of a thick-headed bully boy from
slicing her up into tiny pieces.
"So, what does Dogbreath get to fight with? The same?"
Ron pointed across the ring at Foester. The man was wielding a blade that
was fairly wide from cutting edge to cutting edge, something like a
broad-bladed bastard sword. The blade was slightly wavy, as if it had
been bent repeatedly and not straightened out. "That's a Vre'kai Death's Whip."
"I definitely want to shoot him instead," she said with a merry grin, the
sardonic humour masking a deeper fear that she would not, could not allow
to surface right at that moment. "Looks a bit kooky, but pretty basic.
Why the fancy name?"
"Watch." Foester swung the weapon experimentally a few times, then
whirled it up over his head to snap it out, almost as if throwing it. The
blade separated into multiple segments, each connected at it's center by
a chain. In effect, the sword blade became a whip, which Foester whirled
around his head, then snapped out again, creating a near supersonic
'crack' before the chain retracted, drawing the segments back into a
bladed shape again.
"It's the favored weapon of my House - and it's *quite* nasty. It doesn't
stand up too well as a hacking instrument, but it's ability to change
shape and use makes it quite difficult to fight against." He turned back
to Caz, worry in his eyes. "I recommend you stay inside its reach, and
force him to use it as a sword."
"You don't say." she murmured, then gave him full wattage smile. "Ron, I
have to be honest, I'm scared. Not because I'm afraid - if that makes
sense - but that I'll try my best and not succeed. I know how much hinges
on this, and I know what I must do, and I wish with all my heart I could
stride into that ring with a merry quip on my lips and a jaunty air,
relishing the challenge. But...it's not like that. I want to give that
asshole a slap, sure enough. I want to feel the adrenaline rush of
battle. Doubtless I'll get cut and injured - that sort of thing doesn't
bother me. It's what all this symbolizes that scares me - and what it
means to you."
She took a quick breath and rattled on, "I want you to take me in your
arms and hold me, but you can't do that as it would make me look
vulnerable. Right now, we're not even looking at Foester. This is good,
because it makes him think we see him as an enemy unworthy of even
studying. He'll want to make an impact to settle injured pride, which
will make him less controlled and may give me an advantage. But know that
if I could, I would."
She hesitated to continue, fearing it was making Ron uncomfortable. "What
are you going to be doing whilst this party is happening?" she realized
that she hadn't considered anything else at all except her own part in
the proceedings.
"I will stand at the 'foot' of the circle as the challenger, and
Grandfather will stand at the 'head', as the one being challenged. Each
second will approach from his or her Lord's right hand. Combat will begin
when each of you leave the edge of the circle to approach each other."
Ron raised a hand to run fingers through his hair, and then stopped the
nervous gesture. "I guess it's so the feuding Lords have front row seats
to the carnage."
"My, my...it's not what you know, it's *who* you know..." Mulder couldn't
resist a little sarcasm. Since she was facing mortal combat, she figured
it was allowed.
Ron opened his mouth to answer, when three sharp claps again broke
through the murmuring of the hallway. Elises, the House Warder, now stood
in the middle of the circle. His uniform was hidden by a great cape made
of links of chain so fine that they seemed to glitter, despite being
colored the same darkened purple-black of the uniform. He turned to face
Ron, and bowed. The cape hissed and tinkled across the floor as he did,
whispering a sibilant song as he spoke. "Lord Ranag Jerillion, will you
renounce your accusation?" He spoke in formal tones, words dramatic in
their pronunciation.
"No."
The reply sent a silent shiver down Ron's spine. His eyes flashed to
Mulder's face.
*Point of no return* she thought. Whatever the cost, now there could be
no turning back, or Ron would have to live with the consequences of
abandoning his mother for ever. She gave him looked him straight in the
eye, and willed him to continue. Ron nodded, and clasped his hands behind
his back, assuming a formal resting stance. Elises released his hold on
the cloak, and drew its hood forward, obscuring his face into shadows.
"Then let the Vre'Denai begin - and may the Creator, the Tester and the
Comforter bring the truth to light and death to the false witness." He
spun on one heel, and walked out of the circle. The crowd parted to let
him go through, then closed quickly.
=/\= Black Hole Bar & Grill - Starbase BoB =/\=
Cade was staring at the screen and didn't even realize that he'd finished
the second pint until he tried to sip from an empty glass. Glancing down
at it in mild irritation for having the nerve he looked around to see
that the bartender and the two old-timers were also watching the news
feed. Cade tapped the glass again.
The bartender, to her credit, just grabbed a new glass, slid it under the
tap, and turned the flow of stout on; all without taking her eyes off of
the screen. It was obvious to anyone watching that whatever was happening
was a monumental event.
She slid the pint over to him with a smirk before returning her gaze to
the channel. "Hey, isn't that...?"
"Yeah, it is," Cade answered as they stared in rapt fascination at the
screen.
"Then let the Vre'Denai begin - and may the Creator, the Tester and the
Comforter bring the truth to light and death to the false witness." They
guy who had spoken walked from the center of the crowd.
The
big
few
the
two obvious combatants stood on the inside edge of the circle. The
guy swung his funky sword around in one more circle and Mulder made a
test swings with her new weapon. "This can't be good," both Cade and
bartender intoned under their breaths.
"Manic Fate"
=/\= Argellius =/\=
The Federation News Service announcer spoke into the microphpne concealed
in his immaculate suit. "And so, what should have been a sombre and
dignified funeral of one of Argellius's most important citizens, hes seen
an *incredible* turn of events. I can't remember, in my lifetime, such a
barbaric and yet traditional combat ritual ever being performed."
From the FNS studio, the female anchorwoman's voice said over the air,
"Indeed not. It's shades of Captain Kirk and the Vulcan Rite all over
again. Except of course, we don't want to see any ripped shirts today. In
fact, we don't want to see anything ripped today. What are the chances of
this being cancelled. Is it just sword-rattling, do you think?"
"No, Selena, it isn't. Speaking to one of the family retainers, I can
tell you that this really is going to be to the death, unless something
happens that we can't yet foresee."
"And what of the consequences if - and I say a big *if* the Starfleet
captains kills her opponent?"
"Then it will probably be a JAG matter, Selena - something I understand
this particular Captain is no stranger to."
Their words were cut short as the cameras panned to the circle that had
been hastily cleared. "I think it's about to begin." The purient
excitement in the report's voice was completely undisguised.
With a sharp intake of breath, Foester stepped forward, rotating his
wrist as the sword began to make wide circles in front of his body. He
approached the center with a haughty look of arrogance on his face, eyes
smouldering as they locked with Mulder's.
For her part, she flicked him the most disinterested look she could
fabricate, on the assumption that nothing would insult him so much as not
being taken seriously by *her*. Keeping a slightly bored look on her
face, she made a patronising "you first" gesture.
He snapped the sword out with an over handed stroke, bringing it up and
over Mulder's head. Her eyes narrowed she she tried to second-guess him,
but she made no retaliatory move except for a slight shift away. Tucking
his elbow to his side, Foester turned his shoulder into the Jaz'Aarian,
swinging away to dance to her left, completing the turn by swinging the
sword around again. This time, it snapped loose, extending the blade into
the deadly segmented whip, which nearly doubled its length.
Remembering Ron's hasty advice she stepped quickly and casually right up
to him, almost face to face, and gave him a sweet smile. He couldn't
implement the deadly effect without moving much further than was possible
in that split second, and the sword re-connected.
With a quiet growl, Foester stepped back, giving his blade a shake to
make certain that it had reassembled properly. He'd expected some form of
resistance - Lord Ranag wouldnt've chosen a Second with *no* experience
whatsoever. But the casual calmness in this one in front of him puzzled
him. There appeared no fear, no concern - in fact, she seemed as though
she were completely disinterested in the contest completely. *Well,
she'll scream a different tune soon enough* he thought to himself,
gracing the woman in front of him with a leering smile.
Mulder loosely flexed her own weapon, still affecting disinterest. Her
tactic at the stage, with unfamiliar weapons and an unfamiliar opponent,
was to let him make some moves so she could get a measure of him. More
importantly, from a JazA'arian point of view, to gain a measure of
prowness at reading his body-language. That would help her immeasurably
with the fight. She was adept at reading Argellian from all her time with
Ron, but each person had their own variances, and for one of her race, it
was as vital an ingredient as the weapon itself.
Her advantage was that Foester did not know of this. Casually examining a
nail, she was as taut as a bowstring inside. She knew only too well that
one miscalculation on her part would bring serious injury - or worse. But
she had to hold off, at least for a little while longer.
She couldn't resist a backwards glance at Ron, hoping to to able to take
strength from one last look at him. Turning lightly on her heel as if
just stretching her muscles, she glanced in his direction, and saw the
man she knew as Elises whispering to him. Unable to hear, or even see
properly from out of the corner of her eye, she could not even begin to
guess what they were discussing.
Hoping he would be quick, it was with distinct alarm - not to mention a
touch of chagrin - that she saw Elises slip away - and Ron follow him.
"Well, don't mind me," she muttered under her breath. "I'll just start
the party without you, shall I? I'll give you a shout if anything
interesting happens."
It was manic fate. There she was, on an alien world, about to join in
hand-to-hand combat to the death with an oaf she'd only just met - and
Ron was wandering away. "Bring me back an ice-cream" she murmured. Deep
down, she knew it had to be something of vital importance to the case.
But all the same...
She was brought out of her reverie by the realisation that Foester was
moving again.
He sidestepped, allowing the movement to take him somewhat farther away
from Mulder. Giving the sword another turn of the wrist, he shrugged his
shoulders and rolled his neck, returning the apparent disinterest in his
foe before him. Another leering grin appeared as he swept the blade
overhand again, aiming the last third of it for her skull.
She was so intent in trying to discern his body-language that for a split
second she was caught indecisive, and only moved at the last possible
moment, believing that this time she could leap out of range, and so she
darted sideways.
But the strike was a feint. At the last moment, he let the blade extend
again, its tip arcing over her back. As she'd side-stepped the blow, he
cut it towards her, letting the segments bounce off the ground. With a
normal blade, the inertia supplied by pulling the weapon towards her
wouldn't strike its target - but extended, the segments ricocheted off
the ground and sped up towards her legs.
It was like a deadly metal snake of immeasurable evil,
of metal against ground gave her a sudden flashback to
the mutant arachnoids back on BoB. The reaction caused
upwards and forwards - taking the fight *to* the enemy
swooped almost lazily towards Foester.
and the skittering
the deadly time of
her to jump
now. Her arm
He was counting on the segments bounding up from the ground to bite his
enemy in the leg. He'd lamed many a strong man with the move - but this
she-bitch leapt *forward*! He could see the curved blade darting for him,
and he ducked himself, raising the handle of the sword in a vain attempt
to divert the incoming blade. The awkward move forced him off balance,
and he half-fell, half-skittered away from her.
For a second she felt nothing, then a red-hot searing pain burned through
the back of her leg and she realized that the last few segments had
sliced through the leather and cut her. Silently she thanked Ron's choice
of costume - anything less robust would have meant a deeper wound. She
recovered as positively as she could and gave him an "is that the best
you can do?" look, all the while aware that a tiny trickle of dark purple
blood had smeared the ground beneath her foot.
"Hah!" he barked, jerking the segments closed again. "First blood,
offworlder whore!"
"Think again, little boy." she said with a lazy smile, flicking her eyes
to his hand and forearm where her own weapon had made it's presence felt,
without him being initially aware of it. "What stings more - the cut, or
being bested by a woman?" she taunted him deliberately.
Eyes snapped to the wound - were blood seemed to pour out in a small
trickle from the heel of his hand and half the forearm. Foester's eyes
widened and he hissed in reflex pain before letting fury contort his
face. "I'll have your head for that, filthy slut!"
"My dear chap, unless your aim improves dramatically, you'll have a job
finding the stadium, let alone my head. Do try again. I'm feeling
generous." It was calculated psy-ops, and she had no way of knowing how
susceptible he was. At the very least, she had the advantage of being
female and therefore not taken seriously as a warrior.
He swept the sword up into the air, and let the tip fall towards the
floor, holding the blade in the position commonly known as the 'High
Guard'. He advanced with short, powerful steps, intent on crowding Mulder
backwards. She went with it - it was a different move and she frankly had
no idea what he was planning next.
The sword 'swished' out, preventing her from dodging. When in danger,
attack, and she brought hew own blade out and across in a short stabbing
sweep, aiming for his throat.
In response, he crouched into a duck, parrying the thrust. The Death Whip
bowed against Mulder's blade, segments disjointing themselves against the
solid steel she held. This was sudden danger, and she knew that if she
was disarmed now it would all be over in seconds flat. Again she moved
in, trying to get some slack.
"Death Blow"
=/\= Argellius =/\=
Catching her intent, Foester reversed the blade and drove the hilt at
her, intent on knocking the wind from her lungs. Instead, he caught a
glancing blow to shoulder. He growled at her, raising a hand to shove her
back. "Get away from me, bitch!"
"You're so *mean*," she gave a sultry grin. "But so cute." And she leaned
in and did something she would have nightmares about for a long time
afterwards. She kissed him full on the lips, then with a sharp jerk of
her head, butted him viciously hard on the nose. It was ludicrous,
absurd, and - she hoped - so baffling that it might free her from the
impasse.
Pain blossomed across his face. Eyes watering, Foester couldn't help but
bring a hand up to his now smashed nose. A torrent of blood sprang out,
running over his cupped palm to splatter on the floor. He yelped in
surprise as much as pain, and back-pedalled away from her rapidly while
his mind tried to come to terms with what had just occurred.
"Suckerrrrr..." she sang at him.
He flung his head, whipping blood around him in a flat stream,
splattering the crowd to one side with his blood. They shrieked and
pulled back as he crouched, again growling like a giant mongrel dog
preparing to spring.
Whirling around, she stabbed in earnest, the anger in her rousing to a
familiar ice-cold Jaz'Aarian fury. She almost danced across the ground,
her face cold, her movements staccato and emotionless.
Foester side-slipped, ducked and weaved away from the onslaught, hardpressed to do anything but defend himself. He swallowed the fear that
tried to break forward. This woman was *good* - perhaps even better than
he was. She'd been playing with him, he realized; gauging his abilities,
judging his weaknesses before pressing a serious attack.
She advanced implacably, wondering to herself where the well of icy anger
came from in a sentient being, marvelling at the feeling that consumed
her, revelling in the hatred of this creature, this object she saw as a
blockage to justice and right. He was not a person, he was a thing to be
destroyed and sliced open, and only when he was no longer breathing could
she tell Ron the job was completed.
There was nothing surrounding her but a blur as he was on the retreat.
She wanted to call to him to stop, to accept her blade, to surrender to
the death that was coming and so end this wasting of time, this
unnecessary prolonging of the inevitable. She was not human in those
moments, and even as a detached part of her knew it, it willingly
surrendered to it.
He slipped and fell, feet scrabbling on a floor now slick with blood. For
the first time, fear escaped to cross his face. He lashed upwards and
outwards with the Death Whip, snapping the links apart as he did. He knew
the segments would wrap around and hit him - but the damage they would do
would be *much* greater to his victim.
Her detachment was her undoing, she had been so scornful of the time and
effort that needed to be expended, and as she snapped back out of the
dark place her soul had been, she knew she was too late. The blades
wrapped around her upper arm and raked across her back.
She could see the tip continue on around to hit Foester in the shoulder,
and her nose wrinkled at the smell of more fresh blood, it's metallic
tang biting corrosively through the heavy air.
All this registered in the fraction of a second it took for the blade to
do it's work on her. Jagged chunks of flesh were seared from her back
with juicy relish as the blade devoured her pale, soft skin. Sinew and
muscle tore apart at it's insistent pull, and dark purple blood
fountained out, spraying the ground and settling for a steady pulse in
places where veins had been torn out of her skin. They dripped the
precious life-blood in wanton waste on the filthy earth, and she bit her
lips, ground her teeth together and willed herself not to shriek at the
hideous pain that ripped through her.
The feral part of her was urging the death blow against Foester, but her
arms refused to move, her muscles sobbing in agony as she tried to lift
the Honour Blade. She stopped, tried to freeze her mind, and took a deep
steadying breath, then another, then another.
Foester snatched the reprieve immediately - he rolled over to scramble on
hands and knees away from Mulder, dragging his weapon with him. By the
time she had recovered from the assault, he had returned to his feet. He
panted, exertion, pain and blood loss already starting to take their toll
on him.
Seeing him moved galvanised her into action, and with supreme effort of
will she forced herself to continue. The implacable death-lust was gone,
but the anger was burning still and she used it, cursing softly at her
own lack of concentration and missed opportunity.
Wary, she circled him. She knew his tricks, and gauged his reactions. he
was tiring too. She calculated, how much could she hurt him before she
disabled him. The murdering madness was still there, but sullen and
vengeful now.
Still the showman, she stood as tall as her lacerated body would allow
her, and reached over her shoulder to her bloodied back, filling her
fingers with blood. She drew bloodied trails across her face in a sort of
eerie warpaint, and gave a grunting laugh, from some primeval place deep
inside.
"Let us finish this. Now I will kill you," she breathed softly as a lover
over the dusty, iron-stinking air. "Breathe your last, and surrender. I
will be kind..."
He released the blade again, and began to swing it in intricate patterns
that swirled and dipped in front of him, occasionally lashing out in her
direction with blinding speed.
She smirked now, as she had the measure of the Honour Blade, and
sidestepped and darted, not retreating but following, waiting, playing
almost. She could read him now, and it felt good. To keep her muscles
active she swung the Honour Blade gently and widely, not even deigning to
attack him, but to show it was there, waiting to slice sweetly through
his throat and stop his breath for evermore.
With Herculean effort, Foester lashed out with the Death Blade, intent on
driving it through his foe with a whip-like snap of its tip. Men had been
disembowelled easily by this manoeuvre - and he wanted it over and done
with.
It was a death-blow and she knew it. Dodging as far as her body would
allow, she thrust outwards in a desperate, calculated attack. Not at
Foester - but at his weapon. There was an unearthly screech of metal upon
metal that rent the air as even the blades seemed to be injured. A pull,
and tug and a jarring that shot up her spine, and the Honour Blade wedged
itself between the links.
The strain was too much and the Death Blade shattered and snapped, it's
pieces shooting outwards like deadly arrows. One lodged itself in her
thigh, so cleanly it was a second before she felt it's fire. The other
took her under the ribs, but the leather gave her some small measure of
protection and it hung precariously half in and half out of her body.
Even as it happened, she realised that Foester was disarmed, and
bubbled up inside of her, trying to freeze out the pain, knowing
must kill or doe herself. With a high, banshee like howl of pain
and victory she used the last remnant of strength in her to fall
Foester, the impetus knocking him to the ground.
the rage
that she
and fury
into
Her bloodied face loomed over him as she knelt on his chest, her thigh a
mass of blood and metal. "Party's over, filth," she spat, almost
caressing his throat with her razor sharp blade as she drew it slightly
back to slice clean through his windpipe...she would sever his head as he
lay there, and she would have won...
"Resurrection"
=/\= Argellius =/\=
"Party's over, filth," she spat, almost caressing his throat with her
razor sharp blade as she drew it slightly back to slice clean through his
windpipe...she would sever his head as he lay there, and she would have
won...
A gentle hand lit upon her shoulder. Snarling, she spun round with her
weapon raised, almost ready to strike, her emotions and reactions reduced
to feral, primitive killing mode. "I will finish this! Leave me alone.
This must happen."
Ron looked down on her, his expression a mix of somber sadness and
concern. "Let it go, Mulder."
Something in his voice halted her death strike. "Why? He must die. Only
one can leave alive. That is the way it must be. why do you stop me? Why
can I not do this?"
"Trust me." His eyes searched her face, concerned at the wild anger that
burned in her eyes.
She held his eyes for a long moment, her breathing fast and shallow, her
normal reason battling with instinct and blood-lust. Then she drew a deep
shuddering breath and lowered her weapon. Giving Foester a last look of
disgust and a sharp kick in the ribs, she contented herself with spitting
on him contemptuously before moving painfully away.
"What's the meaning of all this?" Blustered Ilisisone, as he shouldered
his way into the ring. The look on his face mixed displeasure at his loss
with relief that his Second was still alive.
"I'll show you what this is all about, liar!" Ron snarled at his
grandfather. He spun on one heel, and strode up to the crowd encircling
the fighters. "Make way! Get back!" As the crowd parted before him, a
gasp sounded from its rear. It continued, repeated and louder as the
reactions of surprise and shock rolled its way through the crowd.
Standing there with a somewhat smug look on his face was Elises, still
wearing the ceremonial chain-mesh cape of Vre'Denai. But that wasn't what
brought the reaction.
She stood there quietly, demure and appearing somewhat embarrassed at all
the attention. Rak'Hael Jerillion looked up briefly at the crowd, then
turned to walk towards her son. She smiled at Elises as she passed, and
stopped by Ron. He returned her smile, and looked to his Grandfather.
"Not quite as dead as you made her out, is she?"
Ilisisone faded to a pale skinned, open-mouthed statue. He staggered
briefly, then caught himself. "Wha...Wha..."
Turning to the crowd, he raised a hand to quiet the murmuring crowd.
"House Lord Jerillion demanded of my mother to diverge my location, with
the intent of bringing me back to the House to become the successor. But
she didn't know where I was - in fact, as you all know, I'd left
Argellius to join Starfleet. But he didn't believe her - and slowly,
painfully poisoned her. But not to death." He turned to glare at
Ilisisone, venom slashing through his voice. "No - the Lord of your House
poisoned her to a state of complete and total unconsciousness."
The crowd gasped as the connotations connected. "And this *man*," eh
pointed an accusatory finger at Ilisisone, "would have burned her
*alive*, without a second thought!" Angrily, he strode across the bloodslicked floor, and rammed a finger into his Grandfather's chest. "Deny
it, bastard!" He growled. "*I* have the proof of your House Warder, the
so-called 'cook' you hired *and* that of my Mother." Another poke, so
hard he shoved the smaller man back a step. "Deny it!"
Ilisisone stammered, his mouth flapping like a beached fish for a moment
- and then he fainted dead away, collapsing to the floor. He landed as
boneless as a corpse, not too far from his dying Second.
Standing next to Caz, Rak'Hael bent down and touched a hand to her
shoulder. "My dear...are you all right?"
Startled, Mulder looked up with a grimace of pain and read the concern in
Rak'Hael's eyes. Torn between uttering some stoic comment and some flip
remark, she came down on the side of levity. "Hullo Mrs Ron. You and your
son sure know how to throw a party. Are family gatherings always this
much fun?" She reached out a hand in mute appeal for help.
Gentle, deft hands helped her to stand; careful not to touch the wounds
that seeped vermilion blood. "You're very brave." She murmured with a
smile.
Even through the pain Mulder was fascinated to meet the woman so long
absent in Ron's life - the other woman who shared his love. "Brave? Nah,
I'm just a crazy Jaz'Aarian who loves a good fight. Especially when the
stakes are the happiness of a man I adore. I'm glad you're okay," she
offered lamely. "It was one helluva fight," she winced as she tried to
stand upright, "But you should see the other guy." she gave a dismissive
wave of the hand towards the fallen Foester.
Ron sneered down at the man, then motioned to the ceremonial guards.
"Take them both away, and hold them for their trial." He motioned to
another, who trotted over quickly. "Call the House Lords Major and Great,
and advise them that they shall assemble for Judgment."
As the two unmoving bodies were dragged off, Ron mounted the dais. "You
are all witness to what has happened here. And you shall be witness to
the realignment of House Jerillion. But for now..." his gaze fell to the
two women who mattered most to him. "For now, leave us in peace..."
The camera panned back to the face of the FNS reporter, who's
astonishment was written clear. "Incredible! A murder, a bout of mortal
combat - and a resurrection. Where this leaves House Jerillion now, I
have no idea."
The anchorwoman's voice came over, "Indeed, Alan. The political
repercussions must be monumental."
"That's right, Selena. And you can be sure that FNS will be bringing you
the first news once judgement is reached. This is Alan McNab, Federation
News Service, on Argellius."
The camera panned back to the studio and the immaculately coiffeured
Selena Forest smiled at the billions of viewers. "After the break we'll
be back with political commentary on todays incredible events on
Argellius and a fight analysis by an official of the Interstellar Fight
Club. But first, a word from our sponsors..."
=/\= Main Promenade - Starbase BoB =/\=
Exhausted and overpowered, Felix motored down the Main Promenade, zigzagging blithely as though the maze were still there. The late evening
spell of the Lower Promenade had proved the lethalness of Bar Coda and
its kinsmen, but already sozzled, Felix had ejected himself from that
area a while ago. Now he eyed De'ath's, which was closing; the way people
moved and chattered as they finished up.
He would stop and stare for a few seconds at each intricacy before
stumbling along. Lester paused for a second or three too long at any hint
of food, causing Felix to turn and curse him. The dog would follow out of
endurance, body low in its lightly withered casing.
Out of pity, a passer-by donated the end of a hot dog to the animal's
cause. Lester, aching for something real to eat, wolfed it in a second,
not stopping for a second to emit the charm or grace he had had not long
ago.
Felix spun. "My dog, all right? My dog. I'll feed it, thank you, and not
your crap."
"You might want to feed him more, then. He's wasting away, poor thing."
Lester received a sympathetic stroke of the beard.
"Stick out of it." Felix sounded fanatical. Lester recognised this tone
as one of particular proximity to the state of shouting and shuffled off
to one side with the vaguest of loyalty.
A long final look was all he got back in return. He turned, a path
clearing before him. Lester might have kicked his heels if he was a bit
older, and human. "My dog, my business." He repeated and clung to it for
a few moments, eventually walking to the phrase's rhythm.
Succumbing to the mantra, he didn't notice he'd walked all the way to the
end, somehow. Perhaps his less-than-lucid brain had found or created a
shortcut. The large walls and turbolift doors in front of him, he ended
up in the middle of queue. His head nodded, only the sense of people
beind to close to him. Lester's hair bristled through his trousers,
irritating his legs. He kicked one of them out and caught the dog's hind
leg. Lester emitted a subdued mewl that was lost in the chattering of the
crowd.
It never made it to Felix's ears. His brain had shed the art of tuning
into conversation a few minutes previously. Instead he stared dumbly past
the razor-cuts on his face, still not properly blotted.
There were too many people. The woman in the green polo-neck who looked a
little like Paxan, a married couple, a shop-owner heading home. Each of
them burned against him as they swayed too near or nattered too loudly.
He felt an unforeseen desire to be rid of them all and exited in a
whirlwind of dirty white and denim and dog.
He and his rage marched onwards, looking like a bad day, snapping his
head to double-check the identity of someone. In the faces of strangers
he looked for hints of colleagues, Paxan, Emma, old friends, family,
Mulder. They were all memories whose tenacity he couldn't manage to gauge
- simple realise it and look away immediately.
Felix slammed head-first into an advertising brochure. Lester had had
some foresight and lingered back and winced away from the approaching
explosion.
"What son of a mother-buggerer put all this crap here anyway!" he
exclaimed at it, laying into it with both fists. Each way felt like the
way he used to hit someone, but better. The slogan crumpled to the floor
like a withering boxer.
He stood backwards and gazed. "Bog off," he remarked to the rubbernosers, and headed onwards. Felix had the impending feeling of bursting
with too many thoughts. Lester chased at his ankles, invariably getting
in his way.
What wasn't on his mind, of course, was that everything was going to
change. He had no idea. All he knew was that this was the last high he'd
have unless he could get some more, which was becoming difficult. He
swallowed, tasting his dry mouth, and stamped onward.
=/\= Not Far Away - Starbase BoB =/\=
"I cannot believe we are back on this wretched heap," bemoaned Ethel
Clenchbottom. "Push faster!"
"Yes, dear," the tired voices of Enid Straightrod and Eunice Tightpurse
chanted as they leaned into the handles of the wheelchair.
This year's Annual Discrete and Proper Outing, as conducted by The Ladies
Club of Lower Tighten, West Midlands, England, was proving one fiendishly
improper disaster after another.
First, an unscheduled stop on Starbase BoB where they were set upon by
ruffians and perverts and very little in the way of proper lace doilies
in the guest quarters. Then it was off to their next stop, a rather
quaint little spa in an out-of-the-way and charming little colony near
the Romulan Neutral Zone. Their baths were legendary. Their young, blind
towelboys were more so: tanned, buff and starved for attention.
But, alas, it was not so. Engine troubles, a collision with a rogue
asteroid, then months drifting in space. Becalmed in the infinite black
with insufficient quality towels, they suffered mightily. Nearly as much
as the crew that serviced their needs. Today, even the burliest,
sweatiest, most illiterate warp coil scrubber on that vessel struggles
mightily to forget the proper manner of folding a cloth napkin into a
decorative goose.
And poor Ethel, their leader, returned injured. Her right leg was
strapped up and perched high on a strut protruding from her wheelchair.
The Ladies Club believed that hovering was for the young and impetuous,
the properly dignified injured must be grounded with proper wheels. Or so
Ethel had convinced her peers.
From a different avenue, Felix hurtled to the same place. Sounds and
crowds seemed to appear wherever he went. The dog bouded next to him.
He really didn't notice many of the figures now as they went past him. He
collided clumsily with a couple of blurry outlines that he tried harder
to distinguish. One of them was part of a shop front, and caused some
disturbance as a table rocked noisily.
"Was there a planet here last time? I don't remember a planet!" Enid
gasped over the labor of pushing her wounded companion.
"Be quiet and push. We need to get to the restaurant before it opens.
Otherwise we'll have to wait in line!" Ethel clucked.
The passageway seemed to be blocked by something large and maintained by
the elderly. Felix peered at it and tried to get his bearings, wobbling
on his feet. He leant backwards against nothing as Lester tried to
predict his next movement, gazing dozedly at the device.
"Are we going the right direction?" Eunice pulled up, leaving her half of
the wheelchair unmanned as she dug into her purse for her guidebook.
"Compensate! Compensate!" Ethel screamed, waving her cane, as the chair
veered off course. A beach-bound family of four was scattered, shouting,
as she careened towards a storefront, Enid frantically in tow.
With the clamouring of attention surrounding the rickety wheelchair and
its rolling course, Felix came to slightly more. For Lester it was a
different sense that awakened him.
Felix, not being a dog, did not smell nearby that De'ath's bakery was
laying out fresh sausage roll tasters on the terrace section, but Lester,
being one, did. His eyes gleamed their reflection as a moment's
hesistation disappeared, and he bounded forward.
Realising he needed a pick-me-up, he fumbled for an innocent-looking
hypospray in his pocket, and released its dose surreptitiously into his
wrist. Being the last, it was well-loaded. He stooped into a familiar
place, looking up with new-found alertness. Where was the dog?
"Right then, back on course! The early-bird buffet awaits us!" Ethel
poked her cane furiously at her intended course as her fellows resumed
the march.
"Stupid animal!" Felix shouted at Lester, and the dog cowered mid-flight,
suddenly motoring backwards instead.
"What is that? A runaway mop? A tribble?" Ethel clawed for her
spectacles, bringing the chained optics to her eyes a moment too late.
The little furry torpedo emitted a yelping noise from beneath the
conveyance, startling the entire Ladies Club into breathless silence.
"Asteriod!" Enid cried out, shell-shocked from their earlier troubles, as
she gingerly attempted to crouch for cover.
Had it been displayed on a sensor relay, it would have looked like a
rather obese grey-haired mechanical torpedo hitting a much smaller
unfortunate interstellar object. The dog yelped as the wheel hit his
ribs, sending him scuttling across the Promenade.
Felix watched as the dog disappeared off the side of his vision and the
collapsed chair replaced him. His eyes bulged as the final hit of the
present, strongest-available drug took hold more rigorously. His body
trembled mortally and his lungs grasped for any surrounding air.
He overheated with a loud clamour. "LESTER!"
"Compensate! Compensate!" Ethel waved her directing cane again, as the
chair began to spin, victim to Enid's attempts to seek cover. Her
protruding leg swung freely. Eunice screamed loudly as the ponderously
large yellow uniform blundered towards them.
Felix tripped over Ethel's less-good leg on his way past and fell flat to
the floor, about a metre away from Lester, whose body curled in on itself
like a hairy prawn. His head had taken a slight impact and the dazedness
returned. Everything was pounding; unknown muscles, and his head. Lester
phased in and out of his vision as the dog himself stepped in and out of
life.
"Man down!" Ethel screamed from her chair. "Man down! Go around him! To
the buffet, ladies! To the buffet!" Her eyes watered from the impact to
her injured leg, but she persisted, waving her cane to apply a swat to
Felix's backside.
"What a cute little doggie!" Enid left her cowering position and moved to
help the poor stricken pup. "Perhaps we have a biscuit for you?" She
swung her heavy purse round to dig inside.
The dog
watched
Not far
pilot's
panted a slow, miserable approach to an exhausted howl. Felix
with his eyes gripped open, muscles clenched, unable to budge.
away someone commed the vet, vague words passing through the
ears by way of recognisance.
One of the emergency sous-vets under Sesquip Edalian tumbled past a small
group of people. "Is this your dog?" he asked, and not getting a response
of the pilot, glanced at the train of ancient women.
"Indeed not! The poor thing belongs to that man!" Enid shot up from
hiding and waved an accusatory finger at Felix.
"Well, we need to get him back to the shop. Are you taking responsibility
for him?" he asked them, trying to clarity. Felix tried to say something
but it got lost in the hubbub. "Someone needs to. I have to send the bill
somewhere," he expressed as politely as possible.
"Indeed, someone needs to, as that man is clearly incapable! Look at him,
he can barely walk. And where was the mongrel's leash during all this?"
Ethel harrumped from her chair, momentarily distracted from her journey
by the opportunity to harangue someone. "You there, get up and care for
your filthy pet!" Ethel gave Felix another swat with her cane.
"It's not filthy! It is just hungry. Aren't you little sweetie?" Enid
kept digging through her purse, certain that she had a packet of biscuits
somewhere within.
The vet comm'd back to the Pet Shop and cleared an emergency transport
with security. It wasn't long before Felix realised that his dog, his
Lester was gone from the ground in front of him. It pushed him in an
electric start to a crouched position.
"You!" A finger struck out toward the ladies. "You are responsible!"
The trio harrumped as one, staring cruely at Felix.
"We should think not, young man!" Ethel wheezed.
"Indeed. You should be ashamed," Eunice chided.
"I was sure I had some biscuits," Enid whined.
"Off we go, ignore the rubbish in the corridor!" Ethel raised her cane
once more, indicating their course. With a groan, her friends leaned into
the chair handles and began pushing, making a slow, frowning circuit of
Felix's body.
Felix remained stock still as the wheels of the ancient craft churned
away behind him. Finally it disappeared, and his mind hunted for
something else to concentrate on. It couldn't settle, so his feet worked
for him.
He began to run. Darting at first, and then into a paced determination,
frenzying through and around clusters of people. Eventually he found a
stairwell and propelled himself up it, hunting for means of escape.
Before long a turbolift was propelling him past decks, numbers and
destinations, none of which appealed to him. Fear came into it, making
all the senses blur until they were alone.
More people filled up the carriage as it plunged through Starbase BoB.
Feeling claustrophobic, he made his exit. Felix sprinted, a clumsy dash
of dark blue against the under-maintained lighting. Fortunately no one
was around to witness him tripping over his feet or bashing a wall,
staggering against it for support.
Sweating as though under equatorial sun, he came to his knees and
searched for the next place to go. The brightness closed in on him and he
drove himself into the wall, wanting something darker. His fingers found
a hatch and he grappled with it inefficiently.
Eventually it relented, and with shaky swiftness he threw himself in,
slamming the metal closed behind him. He managed a few metres before he
fell down, jaw slamming against the surface. He whined as it ached, but
the rest of his body joined it in a clamour. His ears filled with sound,
selected and elevated until the crackling sounded like music, an ancient
radio eventually tuning to sound.
Music. A tune not thought on for years, reemerging from nowhere to join
the present continuum. A muted guitar strummed at a walking speed beat.
Felix's heart provided an arhythmic drum.
And then, the voice, formed as he struggled for the words to feed it. He
listened to this private ensemble as his pupils disappeared, and his eyes
streamed and closed, and he shook and underwent the consequences he had
always known he should have left unfindable.
=/\= =/\=
Saw my life go flashing past
In the eyes of a faithful friend
Four legs four lives
And the screeching tyres never seem to end
I will change if Lester lives
Not mess him round just cause I own him
He was nearly wiped away
But he had good luck and strong bones
You make me clench my teeth
Us humans ain't got dignity
Eat my plants and steal my things
You're the head of security
I will change if Lester lives
Not mess him round just cause I own him
He was nearly wiped away
But he had good luck and strong bones
Inside and behind him
I will change if Lester lives
Not mess him round
Just cause I own him
=/\= =/\= =/\=
In a second or a day, a period of time he would never be able to
identify, he lived it out over and over again until eventually, the mind
shut down. The body went with it, staying in a locked position, curled up
next to panels and wires. He would resurface a while later, feeling as
though hell itself had collided with his private world, and with a
destroyed sense of reality. He had known it was coming.
For now, a solitary heartbeat drummed out the remainder of the black.
=/\= Main Security Office - USS Caledonia =/\=
Things tended to creak, squeak and otherwise complain rather much during
daytime flying, namely when either Jinti or Richards had the conn. That's
why Harlan enjoyed the night shift over everything else. There was a
certain calmness to it that wasn't to be found on any other time of the
day.
Glass readied on the table, next to the iced bottle of Janx, he leaned
back on his seat, put his feat up and started sorting out some PADDs in
front of him.
"Ok, lets get this started" he muttered and tapped on the first of the
pile. "We're all overdue for a medical checkout? Hell I can't even
remember when I had my last one and that´s how'll stay, Sir" he continued
after reading the first lines with a smirk.
"Looks like the new doctor wants to try and do things right. Welcome to
Madhouse Caledonia, girl." He grinned and took a long sip from his glass.
=/\= Meanwhile - Somewhere in the Bowels of the Ship =/\=
"Swear to god, I've seen her coming along here. And now, it's that little
Ferengi too! I tellyah, there's definitely something going on here, and
we're gonna find out what." Connors hissed and waved Serwal on.
Serwal grumbled and moved into the darkened corridor. "So what?" he
protested on his way. "People are allowed to go wherever they want.
What's the big deal about that?" he explained.
Connors shook his head with discontent. "Aren't you curious? What's Jinti
got to do with a Ferengi? Besides, we're Security aren't we?" he replied
looking important.
"So?" cut Serwal in unimpressed.
"So? So we have to know if there's something fishy going on. It's our job
after all, were would we stand if we didn't do our jobs alright?" Connors
said half offended.
"In a dark corridor in the middle of the night, that's where." Sighed
Serwal. "Ah, what the hell, now we're here, lets just see what's it all
about" he mumbled and walked on.
=/\= =/\= =/\=
"Ow..." Zim grated his teeth and resisted the urge to kick the loose pipe
he'd just stubbed his toe on. That hadn't been there last time he'd made
his way to the still. Then again the last time he'd been had been many
many months ago.
He scuttled along quietly.
=/\= =/\= =/\=
Jinti was pottering inside the secret still. The little room, so neatly
hidden behind the loose panel, the in-between bulkhead secret corridor,
and the depths of who-knew-where was her haven and sanctuary.
She'd done it up nicely, in the last six months too - if a few rickety
tables, a selection of odd chairs, and the old sleep-it-off matress
(which she avoided looking at for reasons that she didn't want her brain
to discuss), and the stubs of candles. It was almost cozy.
And of course, in pride of place, the wall filled with barrels and
barrels of hooch, from both the stores original brewers and the Mirror
Universe supply. A few jugs and glasses and beakers stood on a makeshift
wooden bar, and the sweet pungent scent of dangerous alcohol was music to
her senses.
"If'n I didn't have ta fly tonight I'd git well and truly hammered," she
told herself, settling at a table and staring moodily at nothing in
particular.
"Give it a go. I doubt anyone would be able to tell the difference."
"I wondered when you'd show up, rat," she grated her teeth. "I 'bin
expectin' ya. Git yer skinnny ass out here an' stop hidin' like the
coward y'are."
Zim stepped out of the shadows and flashed Jinti a toothy grin. As he
brushed some of the dust and dirt that had acumulated during one of his
more unorthodox shortcuts he quickly inspected the place.
"Nicely set up." he murmured in appreciation. The memory of the previous
meeting with Jinti was still rather fresh so Zim decided to tread softly.
"Hmph," she muttered. "No thanks to you. I did all this work all by
myself. An' thass why I'm keepin' the profits so far." At least, they
weren't shouting at each other yet.
Zim shrugged his bony shoulders, "Meh, I think I might let you off with
that. With all the stuff we've got here there should be plenty of profit
for all." He eyed the hooch greedily.
Half wanting to tell him to get stuffed, but half wanting to show off her
skills at hooch-stealing, she indicated a set of older barrels. "Thass
the MU stuff. Go on, have a chug. I'll take the cost outta yer next lot
o'profuts. careful though, it might be too strong fer the likes of you,"
she smiked, hoping to goad him into taking a bigger chug than neccessary.
"We'll see." replied Zim with a leer. Jinti obviously didn't know about
his rather alcoholic past which Zim thought might give him a slight
advantage when it came to tasting the hooch. One slug and a coughing fit
later he was proved wrong. "Tha's not bad." rasped Zim.
"Not bad?" It's damn red-hot sexy stuff, that is. With the right outlet,
it's worth a fortune," she told him with smug satisfaction.
Wiping the tears from his eyes Zim turned to face Jinti, "I might have
found someone, well, somewhere that could do with a regular supply of
booze..."
=/\= =/\= =/\=
"I swear, there was something. I've heard it clearly" hissed Connors,
ducking behind an old, half rotten crate.
"Right" replied Serwal in a mocking tone. "As if anyone else was bored or
stupid enough to walk around these corridors at this time of the night"
he added with a bored undertone, kicking about a small, crushed can.
"What did I do to deserve you as partner?" despaired Connors and
inspected his surroundings for the noise he was sure he had heard. "HAH!
That should teach you to trust me!" he then said pointing at a half
closed panel, a few meters in front of them.
Serwal whirled around and eyed the panel with distrust. It looked just
like any other panel, were it not for the fact that it was held against
the inner wall on two parallel railings. If whoever was there wouldn't
have left it open, they would have never seen it. Serwal stepped towards
the panel and pointed at the floor.
"Dammit Connors, for once you were right. Look at this" he said and waved
his mate towards him. On the floor, two sets of footsteps were clearly
visible on the thin layer of dust. A few others, but definitely older
steps were barely visible, too.
"Somebody's been coming here quite often, it seems" grinned Connors.
"Shall we then?" he added and invited Serwal to pass through the panel.
"I hate it when you're right" grumbled Serwal and stepped into the dark
corridor behind the loose panel.
Once through, they both stopped. Two voices could be heard, faint and
muffled but clearly audible in the reigning silence.
=/\= =/\= =/\=
"She said 'cause nobody believes me the maan was such a sleezy ain't
neeever gonna be the sa a ame" sung Harlan more or less in tune with the
sound coming out of the speakers. Throwing the fifth PADD on the out-tray
(which was just a part of his desk he had designated that way and marked
with little plastic storm troopers he had replicated for that specific
matter.
Needless to say, it looked quite good, even with the
soldiers due to an overenthusiastic PADD throw) "How
other seniors manage this kind of crap?" he wondered
have to ask somebody bout that" with that he let out
stretched his arms to almost impossible limits.
one or two fallen
the hell do the
out aloud. "I really
a huge yawn and
"Janie needs a drink yeah yeah, Janie needs a drink" he continued
singing, while he stepped through his office door.
=/\= Secret Still =/\=
"I was talking to McArnh earlier..." said Zim as he took a seat, "...and
it seems the Caledonia has a barman and such. I suggested supplying some
of the hooch and he seemed interested. What do you think?" Zim wasn't too
bothered by Jinti's answer. If she thought it was a good idea then great,
if she didn't Zim would go ahead with his share anyway.
"There ain't a barman no more," Jinti said morosely. "There wuz, but he
went. An' he wuz already a customer. So..." she seemed disinclined to
discuss the matter any further, but then something alerted her and she
jerked her head up. "Didja heer sumthin'? Like, voices?"
Zim cocked his head for a moment and concentrated. He could have sworned
he'd heard something then. After a moment he shook his head and continued
listening to Jinti. He still wasn't used to the background groans and
creaks of the Caledonia.
=/\= =/\= =/\=
"..." whispered Serwal.
"What?" whispered Connors back.
"Shhhh!" Serwal hushed Connors down. "You're standing on my foot, you
idiot!" he then hissed, his face turning a delicate shade of grey in the
twilight.
"Oh" Connors looked down. "Sorry" he said quickly then leaned back
against wall. In a short distance, the conversation stopped for a few
seconds, then went on.
"They almost had us. Now shush. I'll try to get nearer" whispered Connors
almost voiceless.
=/\= =/\= =/\=
"I *did* hear voices," Jinti whispered urgently. "I hope you remembered
to close the door behind ya" - she broke off. "You didn't, did ya?"
=/\= =/\= =/\=
Connors glanced quickly into the room, then scuttled back to Serwal.
"It*is* them!" he hissed in an urgent whisper. "They're having an
argument. And there's lots of stuff in there"
"I'll be..." muttered Serwal impressed.
=/\= =/\= =/\=
"I...er..." Zim thought for a moment. He might have done..."Maybe it fell
off? You know how old everything is round here." He said unconvincingly.
"Ya dumb clumsy li'l toerag - ya fergot t'close the door," She groaned.
"Jeez, I shoulda shoved ya back in that statis chamber the minnit I saw
ya!"
"Its a good job you didn't." said Zim with a low hiss, "Otherwise you'd
be defending the still all on your own."
=/\= =/\= =/\=
"What now?" asked Connors voiceless.
"We find out what's going on, that's what." replied Serwal resolutely and
moved forward.
"Wait" stopped Connors with a hiss. "Shouldn't we have phasers or
something?" he the asked unsure.
"Coward" grumbled Serwal. "It's our shipmates, how bad can it be. Now
lets move" he then added.
=/\= =/\= =/\=
"Well if'n we got visitors they'd better be folks we know, or else they
ain't gonna be welcome," Jinti became very territorial.
Zim nodded his large head in agreement, "Nobody is taking our profit." He
growled and picked up the chair he'd been sitting on, brandishing it like
a lion tamer would.
=/\= =/\= =/\=
Harlan reached his quarters and opened the door. "and everywhere I go,
People know the part I'm playin' " Harlan hummed and stepped into the
room, just to stop dead in his tracks.
"NO! MY PRECIOUSSS!!!" he then roared and hurried towards the fallen
panel, behind which he hid his stash of Janx, which was now covered with
pale, squishy tube grubs en masse. A quick glance revealed a series of
tunnels that led to the room next door.
"ewwww" he exclaimed as he reached into the moving goo pile and removed
the metallic containers with the precious liquid. Angrily, he tapped his
badge and barked in a few words. "ZIIIM, YOU LITTLE !&$*#*&$!!!"
=/\= =/\= =/\=
Jinti picked up another chair and looked at Zim, "Okays, bud," then she
bit her tongue - my no stretch of the imagination could he be classified
as her 'bud'. "Right, you. Let's git ready..." she motioned him to hide
one side of the door.
Zim let the bud comment pass, after all stress did strange things to
people. He crept over to the other side of the door and gave Jinti a nod.
He was all set to protect the still.
"Here they come," she mouthed at him. "One...two...three..."
Zim's combadge squawked with Harlan's message, setting off the rather
jumpy Ferengi.
"Take that!" growled Zim as he swung his chair at the shadows. He swung
again and hit something soft. "Let that be a lesson to you!" Zim hissed
and prepared to swing again.
Connors saw the chair coming in the last possible second and jumped back
hastily. Unfortunately, another occupant of the shadows was not that
fortunate, and a surprised, but delighted Suicide Cat absorbed the
skullcracking blow with a loud, screeching scream, being thrown by the
resulting force directly on Serwals face.
Serwal, not expecting the live ammunition, fell to the floor, feeling
four set of claws burrowing deep in his face. His screams and furious
exclamation came out somewhat muffled under the amount of fur covering
his mouth.
Connors ducked behind a barrel and raised his hands. "STOP! OR I'LL
SHOOT!" he yelled, unable to think of anything better.
=/\= =/\= =/\=
"WHY ARE THERE GRUBS RUINING MY QUARTER. THEY ARE COMING FROM YOUR ROOM
YOU LITTLE MAGGOT!" Harlan shouted angrily into his badge. "I'M GONNA
THROW YOU INTO THE BRIG IF MY JANX IS RUINED" he continued.
=/\= =/\= =/\=
"Crappin' hell!" Jinti swore, not knowing who to hit first or who to yell
at next. "Whut the frolickin' hell are you guys doing here?" she rounded
on them.
"We should be asking that, Miss Lamarr" replied Connors, still ducking
behind the barrel. "We're Security, mind you. And you're obviously doing
something illegal here...whatever it is" he ended a bit lame.
"Oh yeah, *real* tough-guys," she said sarcastically, eyeing Serwals's
struggles. "Yeah, I'm terrified. Like, NOT."
"GET IT OFF ME! GET IT OFF!" yelled Serwal inbetween, rolling around the
dusty floor, beating the feline with every single ounce of strength he
had left, trying to get her off his face. Suicide Cat was definitely
enjoying this. She hissed and meowed with delight, while burying her
claws deeper into Serwals skin.
"ZIM! Tell that there pimp ta belt up, it's givin' me a headache!" Jinti
yelled over the dim.
Not sure who to have a go at first Zim shook the chair viciously. Then he
tapped his badge, "Erm...Harlan? Just shut up for a second. Okay? Just
shut up."
Back to Serwal and Connors Jinti growled, "You two had better have a damn
good explanation. I've got a chair an' I knows how to use it."
"GET IT OFF ME!" continued Serwals screaming. Connors turned around and
realized his mates rather difficult situation.
"Oh" he said, somewhat surprised. Then he kicked the cat with a swift
movement off Serwals face,who screamed in pain, as the claws left large
bloody trails on their way out.
"As I said, as part of the Security Crew of this ship, it is our duty to
follow up any suspicious activity. This here definitely falls into that
subject, don't you think?" Connors finally replied, standing up in full
height and giving as much as authority to his voice as he could. He was
rather good at it.
"Bloody cat, I'll kill her" swore Serwal as he wiped the blood of his
face, which, he realized quickly, wasn't a smart move, as the wounds
started to burn with the dust accumulated on his sleeves.
Zim prayed that his less than diplomatic messge to Harlan would keep him
quiet for a bit. He had no idea what Janx was anyway.
He waved his chair at Connors and hissed, "Thats harrassment! You've no
reason to go snooping about hew-man! If I remember my security training
you've got to have just cause."
Connors measured Zim up for a split second. He probably had a point
there, but Connors wasn't one to give in that easily. Besides, his
trained eye (trained for cons and scams, but trained nontheless) had
spotted the still and his brain was quickly picturing together the
situation. A situation that suddenly seemed quite appealing if used the
right way.
"I s'pose your
what Starfleet
agree" he said
with a knowing
it?"
little experiment over there" he pointed at the still, "is
would definitely define as "just cause", I'm sure you
slowly, stretching the last words and crossing his arms
grin. "Which puts us in a slightly akward situation, don't
Serwal tried to ignore the pain and watched Connors. They had worked long
enough for him to know that his mate had something in mind. Whatever it
was, it usually didn't play out in their benefit, which Serwal expressed
by letting out a resignated sigh.
=/\= =/\= =/\=
"THE HELL I WILL, FERENGI! GET YOUR ASS TO MY ROOM AND EXPLAIN THIS MESS
OR I'LL USE YOUR REAR TO CLEAN THIS UP AND EVEN IF I HAVE TO CUT YOU IN
PIECES" yelled Harlan furiously, watching the grubs wriggle along the
floor towards his bathroom, leaving a gooey trail behind them. "Gertrude,
where in hell is that little worm?" he uttered into the room through
clenched teeth.
The magenta bunny appeared, a mocking gesture on its rabbit face. "Not
within the reach of my sensors, but if it helps, they're waaay down on
the ship, Lt." she smirked and disappeared again.
=/\= =/\= =/\=
Jinti was on a short fuse and didn't know who to punch first - Zim, for
leaving the door open, or these pair of goons for threatening her hardearned little set-up.
Slamming the chair down onto the floor, she said in the (surprising)
sudden silence. "Security? You two ain't *proper* security," she told
them off. "I bin around BoB and here long enuff to knows you ain't, cuz I
knows who's who. Youz a coupla engineers from BoB what are moonlightin'.
I bin there lots, an' I knows their Chief Engineer ain't gonna be too
pleased prolly. In fact, she'll prolly kick yer asses. So there!"
"..." managed to interject Connors, completely ignored by Jinti, who
seemed to be on a streak.
"*AND* impersonatin' a security officer is a bit of a crime where I comes
from," Jinti was on a roll, and believed it was true. It *sounded* pretty
true, at any rate.
"..." started Connors with the intention to shut Jinti up, only to be
ignored once more.
Zim nodded, "Yeah thats right." Absent mindedly Zim gave his badge a
little tap and said in an aside, "I've no idea what you're on about
Harlan, and I don't care. Goodbye!". He turned his attention back to
Jinti.
=/\= =/\= =/\=
"ZIM! ZIIIM!!" yelled Harlan furiously into his badge, but a static
silence was the only answer. "Gertrude, where did ENSIGN Zims last
transmition come from? And don't gimme that "no sensor" crap, or I'll
unleash Engineer Lightwave on your wires." He bellowed.
Gertrude appeared, with a genuinely offended expression on her face. "My
my, we want to watch that temper of ours, don't we? No need to get ugly,
Lt. Here's the coordinates you want." She grumbled, while a screen on the
wall lit up with a ships layout.
"You're lobes are mine, you miserable grub infester." Hissed Harlan and
left his room.
"You wont call Zeke, will you?" Gertrude shouted behind Harlan in an
unsure tone, only to get no response. "He's nuts, you know?" she muttered
to herself and disappeared in a puffy magenta cloud.
=/\= =/\= =/\=
In her stride, Jinti started brandishing the chair about, "An' you know
whut? Lass people I got inna fight with were two Naussicaans. TWO! Yeah.
On Starbase Raven. *An'* I got thrown in the brig fer it." That was,
surprisingly, absolutely true more or les. "So I'm well hard, me, an' I
reckon I could have the pair of youz fer breakfast. An' short-stuff over
there will bite yer ankles too!"
"Yeah I'll bi...what?" Zim said, flashing a scowl a Jinti for a moment.
They could clear that up later. Much later if the Naussicaan thing was
true.
"..." Connors tried it again, now with a little more emphasis. Fat
chance, thought Serwal amused, watching the interchange, smirking against
his will.
"When I kicks yer sorry asses I'm gonna pour hooch all over youz and
leave youz out cold reeking of alcohol on dooty and then you'll be in
reeeel troubble," The chair was just within poking distance, and Jinti's
temper was just within exploding distance. "So why don't you guys make it
easy on yerselves? There's plenny o'hooch fer sale..."
Connors waited for a few seconds with crossed arms. "You done?" he then
asked pleasantly. "First off, we've been Security for this ship since the
8472 incident, which you have seemed to miss, since you are usually too
busy trying to crash the Caly. Second, you can have a Pizza Party with
Lt. Omar for all I care, she ain't my boss anymore. Deal with Lt. de
Carabas if you have complaints."
"Third of all, there's two ways for you guys to get out of this. One is
easy and..." he sideglanced at Zim, "profitable. The other, well, lets
just say, the law is on our side. And as for the Nausicaans, we've dealt
with a bar full of drunk Irish during St. Patricks. So bring it on, we
can take whatever you got" he finished defiantly, his jaw set, his body
changing to a more combatant posture.
Serwal watched the interchange with a mix of annoyance and amusement.
Connors did know how to talk his way out, he just hoped Jinti would buy
the bluff and ease off. Besides, that still wasn't bad workmanship, but
could be definitely improved. And Serwal was really in need of something
strong to kill off the pain caused by that bloody cat.
"Oh yeah?" Jinti folded her arms, "Right them, clever-ass, listen up.
One, you ain't no security officer whutever you sez, coz you ain't got a
cer-tiffy-cat. Two, I dunno the lootenant on BoB but I here she's got
long reaches, an' once an engineer, always an engineer an' the only way
ya check out is in a casket. An' three, y'all are talkin' blackmail. An'
that's a pretty dangerous thing t'do when there's a Ferengi in the room."
She looked at Zim.
He scowled at the others and let out a hiss, shaking the chair again. "We
Ferengi invented a special whip for people who try and blackmail or
doublecross us. Its designed to remove flesh while keeping the victim
concious..."
"See, he might not look much, but when ya tries t'cheat a Ferengi outta
profits, ya takes yer life in yer own hands," she gave a menacing grin.
"Mebbe not today, mebbe not tomorrer, but soon, sumthin will happen when
ya least expects it. An' ya better be ready to say goodbye to life as you
knows it..."
Connors buffed and crossed his arms again. "First of all, am too. You can
go check the roster by yourself, if you really need to. Second, as I
always say, life's full of surprises. Engineers are known to be quite
more versatile then pilots, which is why you probably can't grasp the
picture. "
"Third of all, blackmail is an ugly word and far from my intention. As it
happens I...we do know quite a lot of people on BoB who might be
interested in new stuff. I'm just showing you certain possibilities to
keep the still *and* expand the business...for a reasonable percentage,
of course. As you can see, blackmail is far from my mind, and I'm
honestly hurt by the very thought of it." he ended theatrically."
Serwal remained silent. The Engineering part of Jinti's speech had hit
him a bit harder then expected. He kinda missed the Basement as
ungrateful a job as it was.
Perching herself on the bar Jinti said firmly. "This stuff is mine. It
wuz owned by Doc Jerillion, the CMO over on BoB - coz he brewed it. An'
he gave it to me. Now, when we next goes there, I c'n jist go tell him
that folks have been stealin' it, and he'll take it back. All of it. So
there won't be no profits fer anyone, an' there won't be no drinks fer
anyone. An' since there's quite a few crew on the ship now wot are
reg'lar customers, you guys ain't gonna be popular. So, ya can either
become customers yerselves, or face a profit-deprived Ferengi, an' a mad
doctor, an' and angry crew. Your call."
Connors waved Jinti off. "As if you would ever do that to yourself.
Besides, you're off the point, lady. I am being reasonable here, more
than I really should. This *is*, wether you like it or not, illegal. Now,
I'm not trying to be a moralist here..." he waved his arms soothingly
around and tried a winning smile. He was sure the Ferengi would recognize
this change as a business oportunity, even against the hard headed Chief
Helm "...I'm just trying to offer a solution that's best for us. For
*all* of us" he finished, showing a big, fatherly smile.
"Ya know whut? Ya c'n get screwed," Jinti
hard work, an' I haveta share the profits
she gave a sly smile, "Now, if'n he wants
profits, then no worries. But if he don't
buy hooch at the same knock-down price as
stuffed."
told him bluntly. "My still, my
with short-stuff as it is..."
ta give you a share of *his*
then tough titty. Ya c'n either
everyone else, or ya c'n get
She meant it - she wasn't going to share her profits with a couple of
wasters who had an eye to the main chance. "O'course, I c'n always take
my chances an' go straight to the Skipper," she added softly, almost as
an afterthought. "He'll prolly hand it straight back to the owner on BoB
anyways, an' I'll be tellin' him about yer blackmail attempt too."
Zim finally put the chair down. Almost shaking from the prospect of
losing out profit wise Zim folded his arms. "Yeah...I don't really feel
like sharing. So we might have to go to McArnh and I don't think he'll
look too kindly on you trying to blackmail us. Us on the other
hand...well we were just trying to provide a service for the ship." He
sneered at them, "The way we've done it might be a bit of a grey area
legally, but blackmail is much more black and white."
He pulled the chair up to the still and sat down, turning his back
slightly to the intruders, "And so far it is blackmail, a business
opportunity would involve benefits for us all. I don't see any yet."
Connors laughed dryly and turned to Zim, waving in a fake defeated way.
"Alright, if you insist on it, we can go and talk this over with the CO.
I doubt he'll be too pleased to know there's a highly volatile operation
going on in the belly of his already quite battered starship, with a
potential of exploding anytime and send us all to oblivion. Besides, once
he gets over his tantrum, he'll probably want free rations for himself
and that bar of his." He said calmly, leaning against the wall.
"Yes, I can see how that's gonna benefit the lot of us. You're probably
right, in my duty as Security Officer of this ship, I might have to
report this at once and forget about saving your hides." He added
ironically.
"We do have contacts on the base, and we do know lots of save places to
stash the surplus." Intervened Serwal for the first time, trying to
mediate between the two parties.
"Forget it, Serwal. This is the first Ferengi I ever met that skipped a
chance to make more bucks. I'm sure he has his reasons, as does the Queen
of Hooch here!" Connors said mockingly.
Zim laughed humorlessly, "You two would only be good for the grunt work.
Me and Jinti are the brains of this. We've got the lobes, the
contacts..."
"For what exactly, Mr. Zim?" came a cold voice from the shadows at that
moment.
"For grub infestations ruining my best bottles, coming from your room?"
Harlan added harshly stepping into the light. His sight wandered around
the room, taking in the whole situation. There was Jinti, normally in
good mood and with a drink in her hand, now brandishing a chair towards
his subordinates; Ens. Zim sitting on another chair frowning his already
ugly face, and Connors and Serwal, the latter with his face covered in
blood.
"What the..." he started looking at Serwal. Then he spotted the still.
"I'll be..." he started again, his face lighting up this time. Then he
turned to Jinti. "That thing yours?" he asked with clear approval in his
voice. Forgotten were the grubs, what he had in front of him was far more
interesting.
Reining in the last of her patience, Jinti decided to give the
explanation one last time. It was that or go completely chair-leg on
someone's ass. As calmly as possible she explained how the former
Caledonia CMO and chief brewer, Doctor Jerillion, had given her the
contents of the still for her to enjoy, and do with as she pleased. How
she, along with Zim, had decided to share the wealth - for a very
reasonable fee - and how she was in the process of setting up a small
exclusive drinking den for the crew down here.
Then, clutching the chair tighter as her hands were itiching to swing it,
she bluntly explained how the bumbling duo had followed Zim and proceeded
to demand a cut into the business and a share of the profits,
blackmailing them with the threat of security action.
"I kin stand a whole lotta bad behaviour, but blackmailers is jist the
lowest sort of scum. Especially when it's yer own crewmates. That jist
sucks. This is a small private biznizz an' if'n other folks poke their
snouts in, then it's jist gonna go wrong an' no-one is gonna enjoy
anythin'. It's tupid of them, an' greedy. Blackmailers ougtta be thrown
out the nearest airlock. Dirtballs!" she finished in disgust.
"Blackmail?" Harlan asked frowning and turning to Connors. "Explain
yourself, mate. And pronto" he crossed his arms.
Connors face turned to stone. "It appears, Jinti got it quite wrong, as
it is. Y'see, we followed up on some suspicious activity and found a
clandestine still operation on the ship. I know, we should have reported
it at once, but I wanted to give them a chance to make up for their
mistakes." He then explained with a straight face.
"Aye, by blackmailing them?" Harlan looked with disappointment at
Connors. He would have understood a bribe, but blackmail was a much
trickier business and dangerous on top. He'd expected better from
Connors.
Connors instead shook his head.
"We didn't blackmail them, Sir" cut Serwal in. "Connors just pointed out
that we can expand their business. He might have been a bit demanding,
but in essence, that's what we did. I'm sure he had no intentions of
blackmailing anyone." He explained briefly, knowing he was lying bluntly
to cover his mate.
"Dimwits" grumbled Harlan. "And how in hell did you get cut like that?"
he pointed at Serwal. "You know I can't let violence between us pass just
like that" he turned accusatory to the Ferengi and the Pilot.
"It was the cat, Sir" Serwal cut in once again. "Just an accident,
right?" he turned to Zim.
"Yeah...just an accident." said Zim with a nod of his head. As much as he
didn't appreciate the intrusion, Serwal didn't seem too bad.
"You know what? I don't even wanna know." Grumbled Harlan, then turned to
Jinti. "Is that stuff good?" he asked curiously.
"It's four year old hooch brewed by a doctor who knew *just* when ta stop
at the lethal alcohol content level, an' an Ops guy who wuz, I think,
crazy. It's been fermented by battle and settled in the dark. It's magic.
An' that's jist the stuff from *this* galaxy..." she nodded.
Zim poured a shot into a grubby mug while Jinti replied. He held it up
for Harlan. "There you go...it's not poisoned." He flashed him a snaggled
toothed grin. Hopefully a shot of this would help smooth the situation
out, and whatever the grub situation was. He knew the burrow was deep,
but he hadn't realised quite how deep.
Harlan took the offered mug and sniffed carefully, regretting it
instantly, as his eyes began to water. He closed them and lifted the cup.
"Cheers" he muttered and downed the content in one go. Liquid fire seemed
to burn down his throat and toast his esophagus. Alcohol raced into his
bloodstream like a herd of horses during a thunderstorm and hit his brain
with the speed of a deranged quantum torpedo on collision course with a
kamikaze bajoran fighter.
It was almost as good as Old Janx Spirit, yet less sophisticated. "Not
bad" he finally muttered with a throaty voice. "Not bad at all"
"Now ya wanna try some of the stuff from the other universe - an' don't
ask how, and don't sniff it first else it'll strip the linin' off yer
nostrils." Jinti re-filled the mug from the other selection.
Harlan
within
out of
joked.
nodded and downed the second mug. His brain started to tapdance
his skull, not an entirely unpleasant sensation. "IF we ever run
Antimatter, we have plenty of material here to burn instead." he
"Solid stuff, what's the price?" he finally asked.
"This is the sitooation," Jinti perched on the edge of the table. "Ya c'n
buy a bottle fer fifty strips o'latinum each. An' there's a helluva lotts
shots in a bottle, an' ya jist *cain't* drink too much in one go. One
bottle per customer cos it *is* a limited supply. An' elsewise, this here
is gonna be a private drinkin' club. See that jar on the bar there? That
wuz my idea fer an honesty bucket.
"If'n ya needs ta slip away, quiet like, an wants ta drink, then this
here's the place to come. Ya sticks five strips o'latinum in the jar an'
ya helps yaself to a shot. If'n ya gits drunk enuff ta fall over, thass
whut the matress is fer. Simple."
Very simple thought Zim with a frown, and open to abuse. But he thought
it best not to say anything about it just now. Not with the temper Jinti
was likely to break out in.
Harlan grinned. "You got it all figured out, don't you?" he smirked. "I'm
game with that. Just bear in mind one thing and I'm iron on that. If this
ever comes out in the open, I had absolutely no idea about it, and I'll
act the way I'm supposed to. I wont take any regards, nor will I admit to
have known of the existence of this still. And if any of you cross me on
that point...Trust me, you don't wanna know what I'm capable of, with or
without uniform. Are we clear on that?" he said seriously.
He was quite aware that he was placing himself into a difficult position,
but the place was just too grand to ruin it.
"Suits me fine," Jinti nodded emphatically. "Ya don't know nuthin', ya
weren't never here, we never had this conversation. Sorted."
"An' I don't want any help with contacts," she said added firmly. "Thiss
is a small biznizz an' it ain't gonna expand."
Harlan shrugged. "Fair enough" he stated and turned to Connors. "That
meant you, mate." he looked at him grinning.
"One more thing," Jinti jerked her head towards Connors and sSrwal. "Cuz
they behaved real bad, they is banned from the drinkin' club. An they
isn't allowed t'buy a bottle from here either. If'n they want hooch they
c'n buy it from the proper bar upstaits cuz the barman there had a few
bottles too. So thass that."
Zim gave a curt nod of his head and then leered at them, "Bad Connors."
Harlan turned his head to Zim. "Don't do that" he said sharply. "They
made their move and lost. Punishment's fair, but chiding is not
necessary. Although..." he turned to Jinti.
"Maybe you wanna put a time limit to that. Just a suggestion. On my
behalf, if that's worth for anything. Would be really cruel to leave them
out for one mistake." he smiled. "Think about it, willya" he added and
turned to his subordinates.
"Fellas, I believe there's a few bathrooms to be cleaned. And Serwal" he
pointed at his face. "Get your ass over to infirmary and get that seen.
You're dripping all over your uniform."
He turned back to
wrap for me. Zim,
gonna sleep there
rescued, Got me?"
the unlikely pair formed by Jinti and Zim. "That's a
you have some explaining to do in my room. I'm not
till that whole shit is gone and MY personal hooch
he said half grinning, half serious.
"We got ya," Jinti spoke for both of them. "Ya c'n come here any time ya
likes an' put yer latinum in the bucket. Then two clows of yours is on a
ban 'till after we clear this Zanzibar, and they they gotta apologize and
them mebbe I'll sell to 'em. An' short stuff is gonna clear off now an do
whut ya wants him ta do an leave me in PEACE!"
She was looking forward to a *really* hefty slug of hooch herself now...
=/\= Beach - Faylinn =/\=
In a shallow hole on the beach, protected as such from the soft breeze,
and some of the clamor from his more noisy accompanying Security
brethren, Frank Palmice reclined on a beach chair. From under a straw
hat...the only occasion he worried about being bald, was when the sun was
shining too brightly...and glancing lazily over the sagged down
sunglasses, Frank took the beach into full view. He sighed of happiness
in a dozy state, feeling too lame to even get up and reach out for a beer
kept in a cooler next to him.
This was something. In the light breeze, the sturdy, tough grass fighting
the sand on the frontiers of the dunes behind him, were waving friendly,
and with heavier gusts of wind, floated past small, low clouds of loose
sand, the occasional hat or bikini-top that the wind caught. The two
dozen or so Security people around him were all enjoying themselves
greatly, along with some locals, who joined their partying and lounging
soon enough, inspired by their enthusiasm.
The time had come to attack her prey. She initially noticed him, not from
the hat, but from his facial features. Despite the sunglasses on his
face, she knew who it was. Palmice had a certain swagger about him, even
when he was sitting his butt in a beach chair. Frowning, the spray that
Helga gave her was not helping the pain from the earlier wax. At this
time, it was all she could do not to just go jump in the water to try and
help the of discomfort that her bare skin was experiencing from parting
with her hair. But hey, in the end it was all worth it, maybe. It's the
first time she had ever really "groomed" herself in her life time.
Everything had been so focused on her career and other things, she just
really didn't care.
What prompted her to make herself over, she didn't know. Perhaps it was a
new start, or perhaps she just wanted to attract someone for a little
fun,...it didn't really matter.
Something that she wasn't used to was having the male population gawk at
her. She was attractive before, but with the improvements such as the all
over body waxing, two eyebrows instead of one, hair that actually was
able to have a comb run through it, and some makeup, the woman was a
knock out. However, enjoyment at her would have to wait. What Savannah
failed to notice was the dress code for a sunny day on the beach. That
was the true reason she was receiving the stares. Someone in a Star Fleet
uniform perusing the beach would catch anyone's attention.
Ensign Savannah McAlister, Frank observed, as he could make out the
visitor blocking the sun. He pulled his mouth into a grin, stretching out
a little. Absently he noted that he was gaining weight again, pushing the
200 pounds, after the gap in the severe exercises he pushed himself
through, when he was in the IFC tournament. Even so, his bare chest,
tanned both by his genes and the sun, dotted with islands of hair, was
still muscular, despite his age. He took a good look at her, and added,
"We are on vacation, ma'am."
"Sir, considering where I've been, Bob is a vacation. This,...is heaven."
She shifted her weight between her two feet. "I was told to buy you a
coffee and sit and chat about what we share in common." She paused.
"Honestly, I haven't a clue what that could be. We seem to be polar
opposites."
"A coffee?" Frank asked bemused. That was Vaughan's problem; he was an
officer. In the end, they all ended up like uninspired, humorless, old
hags, male/female. And what was up with the 'Sir' business? Even at a
rank of Ensign, she outclassed him completely. "A coffee in a place like
this?" Frank shook his head. "Why don't you have a beer?" he offered,
gesturing to the cooler. Several shouts could be heard from the
coastline, as a small group of enlisted raced to the water, diving in it
with great audible pleasure. "You are enjoying yourself here, Ensign?" he
asked, tilting his hat backwards, so he could talk to her better.
"Yeah, uh. I don't drink Frank. It wasn't pretty the last time with ten
vials of Bloodwine and seven Klingons is close quarters." She shuttered
recalling the memory. What was meant as a leave during three weeks had
turned into a...well Clearing her memory, she gingerly rubbed her thigh
that still ached every now and then. Walking over to the cooler, she
retracted some flavored water. "I guess I should go require some
different attire then, huh?"
"When in Rome..." grinned Frank, spreading his arms to the largely
scantly clad people messing about on the beach, sunbathing, playing with
a ball, everyone clearly enjoying themselves. Meanwhile, he kept
wondering why the hell he had water in that box, taking up beer-space.
"...don't do anything about what the Roman's are doing
"Okay, be right back." McAlister replied. Turning back, she spoke. "Any
particular style Palmice? I mean, if I'm going to be in your presence, I
don't want to involuntarily repulse you or anything like that." She
giggled.
"I'm a sucker for the one-piece swimming suits," smiled Frank broadly,
putting his hands behind his head and admiring the beautiful woman. He
coughed a little and shook his head, sitting up more straight. He was
thinking with his wrong head again; that temper of his would land him in
trouble one day..." she was an officer, for heaven's sake..." his boss,
to a large degree. Too greedy.
Shaking her head, she spoke. "Okay...be right back."
Thirty minutes later, a scantily clad officer approached the man that
still had his ass in the beach chair. The white one piece high lighted
her tan, as well as show off some other parts of her through slits near
the breast line and naval. Reaching over, she playfully went to tip his
hat off his head thinking that he was sleeping...
Mischievously, throwing all reserve in the wind, he surged forward,
reaching out-bear like, throwing his arms around her petite frame,
grabbing her, and falling backwards, so she was on top of him. "Raaah!"
he roared, humorously, his eyes twinkling lightheartedly, teasingly
tickling her sides. Maybe it was the sun, or the sea, or the beer, but he
admitted to himself he had more fun like this than he had in a long time.
He laughed at full volume.
Shrieking, she fell on top of him laughing as well. Lifting her head up,
she punched him on his bicep, which she doubted he felt at all. Still
grinning, she stayed put for a moment. "Sooooo, Mr. Palmice, I assume you
like your women on top?" Upon finishing the comment, she scurried to get
herself to a standing position.
"What in gods name made you do that?" Brushing sand off of herself, she
smirked as she realized she had her bathing suit ride up. Since he didn't
appear to have a problem with her, turned around and offered her bum to
him. "Care to get that?" She stated laughing uncontrollably.
"Don't mind if I do," Frank chuckled, reaching out a hand.
Savannah playfully slapped his hand. 'Geesh, I was just kidding!'
Plopping herself down in the sand beside him, she looked over. "What do
we have in common?"
"Besides our good looks?" He laughed merrily at his own joke. Contently,
he let himself drop back in his chair, but not before utilizing his now
active position to get himself a new beer. The bottle was wet and cold to
the touch, promising a minute of joy and refreshment to his heated up
body. He cast a glance at her. "So Vaughan thinks we have something in
common, eh?" he asked, shrewdly putting all the pieces of information
together.
He unscrewed the cap from the bottle, and gulped some of the fluid down.
"Why don't you tell me about your time in prison?" If there was anything
he would have in common, it would be connected to that part of her life,
he considered. Anything else, he could not think of; a pretty young
Ensign, versus an old dog.
"Ohhh, that." She replied curtly. "You want the whole version, or the
short one?"
"The whole shebang," Frank demanded, certainly. There had to be a good
story behind this one. He twisted a little, settling in his chair more
comfortably, sliding down a little.
Sighing, she started her story. "I was a witness to my parent's murders
when I was 15. They, they owned a little pub on the outskirts of
Edinburgh." She looked at him, an almost gentleness about her features
appeared for a sheer second. "You would have liked it..." "Anyway...I've
been haunted by their deaths...I need some sort of closure, and had
thought I got it until the men that I had kidnapped were found guilty."
The anger rose in her voice somewhat.
"You found them?" Frank asked, curiously, and thoughtful now. He had
expected her to have gone down for shoplifting, or indecent exposure, but
this was a whole different league. Her parents killed? Frank never felt
much for his own, so he couldn't exactly share what she must have felt.
Running a hand down his chin, he wondered what he would do, when he put
his mind to it.
"Yes...I had my resources that I used upon graduating the academy. On my
way to my initial assignment I finally was able to put the pieces
together as to their whereabouts and tracked them down...of
course...missing my ship."
"You had something else on your mind." It would have been the least of
her worries. But why...˜kidnap' them? What the hell for? This day and
age, people got killed either by their spouse or other loving family
members, or for money; just like it had ever been. Why not simply return
the favor?
"Kidnapping them was rather easy, they weren't the sort that had too much
upstairs if you know what I mean." She glanced over, and held her hands
up to her face to block the sun. "I had everything set up before hand.
The location no one knew about, the equipment I'd need to get the truth
out, and my plan on turning them in after I got the confessions."
Sighing, she continued. "However, with all the evidence I had against
them, they were found not guilty."
Ahh...She turned them in. It was all he could do not to smirk; she
followed the usual way of Starfleet..." and what-da-ya-know; it worked as
well as a dead slave. Another nail in the coffin of pacifism.
She glanced over, it was rather obvious she had peeked his interest.
"With my training at the academy and at Harvard, I had a handle on how to
do things...if you know what I mean."
"Hmm," Frank hummed, though he did not understand. Harvard? Academy? Did
she bore them to tears? But then again, succeeding at either place must
mean she had a kind of resourcefulness that could be put to good use in
any field of choice.
"The confessions didn't take that long to come to light...which surprised
me. I have expected that I'd end up killing them...but...I did the job
well enough to get the information I needed without going to that
extreme."
Frank, meanwhile, reflected about his own recent adventures along those
lines, and gave a nod in decided agreement..." he didn't go that far with
his subject neither. Yet he expected she exercised more subtle ways,
instead of reverting to blunt threats of violence.
"I was caught, of course, for missing the ship and then when they told
their story, I ended up in deep poop so to speak. That's how I ended up
at Yakasi. I guess I have certain 'abilities' that normal people don't
have.
I understand the workings of a criminal's mind...and because of that, I
became one myself."
"That is quite a story," Frank broke the silence, a few seconds she
finished relaying her tale. "You got three years for abducting and
torturing the murderers of your parents?" he shook his head. He wasn't so
naïve to expect laws to protect the average good person..." he worked
too long in the line of enforcing law, and before too long in breaking
it, to know how to exploit laws to the fullest. "What happened to them?
Ended up as your neighbors in jail?" That would be slightly ironic.
"Hell if I know..." She paused for a moment, glancing over at him
narrowing her eyes. "I will find them...count on it."
"I think we are on the same page with a lot of things, indeed," Frank
observed quietly. He leaned back comfortably, downing the last bits of
his beer. "You know, there is more to BoB than meets the eye..." its
people, places...A whole dark world only visible for those that want to
see it. The filthy junkies, the rotten scumbags, the crooked dealers, the
gaudy pimps, the offi..." eh..." the degenerate gamblers, the rats..."
well, everybody sees those." Not to mention a certain llama. "Keep your
eyes open on BoB," he spoke, semi-induced by the alcohol. "Unlike this
place around here," he nudged to the planet around him, "BoB does have an
underbelly, and boy, it ain't pretty."
=/\= Yeoman's Office - USS Caledonia =/\=
"NO!" shrieked Regina, as the ceiling light in her office flickered off
for the seventh time within the hour. Regina had tried changing the
florescent strip (a difficult job involving standing on her desk). She
had even tried poking at stray and visible wiring with a long wooden
stick (whose purpose was unspecified and presumably indiscriminate). The
replacement bulb had failed. The poking had ignited sparks, some of which
still smouldered in her hair. Regina had resigned herself to a lighting
system which provided light approximately thirty per cent of the time,
but she was overcome by outrage each time she was immersed in darkness.
"Disgusting what Management will sink to," Regina informed her new
companion, the darkness. "Why, even in my years working in archives, I
was not expected to work without light."
Regina's computer screen, harsh and emitting a pale blue aura which sat
ill which the portions of Yeoman's hair that it reached, sighed wearily.
Regina slapped it. "Do not fail now," she hissed, although she half hoped
the entire system would crash. Regina was not interested in the contents
of the screen. The only aspect of the law which interested Regina was the
area loosely defined as Compensation. And this was, sadly, not
compensation.
Or was it? wondered Regina vaguely.
Surely if the Caledonia had suffered to the point of near extermination,
it was qualified for compensation? And if this other ship, this Zanzibaba
or whatever ridiculous name it had, if this ship was now useless, they
had every right to claim compensation from its miserable hull. The
Zanzibar, decided Regina, was clearly a misogynist husband. The Caledonia
was a wife done out of her conjugal rights.
"We shall take everything you own!" shouted Regina.
She brought up the legal clauses on divorce settlements. "Must it be
proved that the ships were married?"
Apparently a marriage certificate was necessary to undertake divorce, and
the consequent reparations. "Damn," muttered Regina. The light flickered
on. "EEEE!" she shrieked.
Unbeknown to Regina, an errant slug had taken advantage of the darkness
to slither onto her desk. Its feelers blinked, turning this way and that,
surprised by its sudden entrance into the spotlight. The feelers
continued to swivel until they were dissolved by a vast snowstorm of
salt. Presently, the slug had no more coherent thoughts.
Regina shook in her hair. "They enter the ship...and now this! Nowhere is
safe!" She glanced wildly around. The office light glimmered hopefully
and switched off. "NO!" shrieked Regina.
She navigated sulkily around the legal site. This was a ridiculous
assignment. Regina could be far better employed ascertaining whether the
other ship had any slug pellets on board. That would be useful to the
Caledonia's progression into the twenty-fifth century.
"Planetary harrassment...Grievous corporate harm...unlawful interaction
with a spaceship..." Regina yawned. "Appropriational rights...sanity: a
matter for the sane or the insane?...appropriational rights...oh!"
Regina leaned a little closer. The ceiling light flicked on. A slug
slimed onto the right side of her desk and was decimated by salt. "The
Right of Appropriation..." Regina's lips moved softly. "Section seventeen
point fifty-four subsection twenty-five B...Interesting. I wonder if it
covers my rights to McArnh's whisky store? But I suppose that is not
relevant to the Zanzibaba. Hmm, is this strictly speaking a Starfleet
protocol?"
The ceiling light flicked off.
"According to the Rights of Appropriation, sponsored by Captain - "
Regina scrutinised the text, which also supplied a holo-photo. "Captain
Jack Sparrow. Why, he looks an interesting creature. But that parrot
ought to be taken to a rescue centre. I am sure its feathers are
moulting. In need of a vitamin boost." Regina read a paragraph of small
print. "Too late now. It evolved without natural enemies and was shot
with its family on a small remote island. This one escaped to lead a life
of yo-ho - what is yo-ho?" The yo-ho life was puzzling but not explained.
Nevertheless, it appeared that Captain Jack Sparrow had proposed the
Right to Appropriation, that was, if a deserted ship was come upon by
another ship in dire need, that ship had the right to appropriate (and
preserve, was the argument) anything of value. The 'ships' in question
seemed to be ancient, waterbound affairs. Appropriation was designed to
prevent Sinking of Valuable Objects. Nobody had bothered to dissolve the
law because it refered to redundant modes of transport.
"But it only says, ship," murmured Regina. "It does not say, 'water
ship'."
She studied the portrait of Captain Jack Sparrow a little closer. "He
looks a suspect case. I daresay he bribed some irresolute official to
make this law. An outrage." Regina paused. "It will suffice very well for
us. Computer!"
The pink bunny appeared, crouching on her desk, ears cocked mockingly.
"Send this to McArnh," declared Regina, trying to assume a dignified
posture. The bunny smirked. "Certainly," it declared. "Shall I give you
some light?"
The ceiling light flicked on.
Five slugs, back to back in close formation, were working their way up a
desk leg.
"NO!" shrieked Regina. "Darkness! Darkness!"
Gertrude cackled faintly as the lights clicked off. Only a faint, squishy
noise prevailed.
=/\= C'Rahn Primary School - Faylinn =/\=
How he had gotten himself into this mess, Frank Palmice still really
didn't know. Or actually, he did know; it was that young teaching girl,
when she asked him, with that smile of hers, and those eyes...How could
anyone refuse her, when she asked him, oh-so-please, to come and tell the
children in her small school about his job in law enforcement on BoB? Of
course he would, he bragged to her, as she was sitting next to him, at
the counter of a freshly installed, oversized shed on the beach that was
the newly established local presence of Bronchov's Beachclub - for this
one time really on the beach.
And when she actually came to pick him up, in the same place, the next
day, what was he supposed to do? Refuse her in her face? He came along
willingly. She led him into a building down the street that could easily
have been a residence. Inside, however, it opened up in a single
classroom. In his mind's eye, classrooms looked dark and smelled of
unwashed children and sweaty teachers, combined with blackboards and a
padd spewing endless streams of lessons, sums and assignments. Then
again, he never went to school himself, so what did he know?
But the school here was completely different. Tall windows lined the
walls, allowing in masses of sunlight, bathing something like a dozen of
desks in neat rows. Cool wind wafted from the environmental regulators,
and through the open window, the sounds of the distance surf could still
be heard. On either side of the room, beneath the broad window sills,
were standing small tables, on which were displayed various items of
undoubtedly educational value; a skeleton of some creature, an aquarium -
though it seemed empty, but for some plants, quite a few technical
models.
Throughout it all, each behind a desk, were sitting
these...excruciatingly polite and nice children. Like all the people
around here. When Frank put himself past the niceties of the people and
local police officers he met, he wanted to scream: get a life, argue, do
something to counterbalance all this courteousness! He walked in, looking
over the quiet children and the ever-so-neatly arranged room. There was
something odd going on here, yet he couldn't get his finger behind it.
Frank saw the smile of the teacher, and everything was alright again.
"This is very thrilling, class," the teacher said, clasping her hands as
if to mimic excitement. "We have a *real* security officer, from the
Starbase I told you about a few days ago. He will tell us about his job isn't that exciting?" The kids agreed cheerfully, but silently, their
approving only visible by the look on their faces.
"Uh...hello, children," Frank boomed, his hands quickly fetching the
leaflet he got from the database, back on BoB, especially designed for
these coincidences, with all the handy tips for the security crewmember
to explain and offer. "I am not really an officer, but that is
alright..." The children had to be around ten years old. Quickly he
fetched the leaflet, his eyes scanning for something useful. "Er...Be
cool, stay in school," he read. Judging by the frowns upon their faces,
the message didn't really get through.
"Erm...Well, I am Frank Palmice," he started again anew, putting his
hands in his sides, when he considered something. "Hey - do you want to
see my gun?" This was eagerly greeted upon by cheers from the children,
but an even deeper frown from the teacher. With a I-know-what-I'm-doing
look on his face, he took his side-arm from his holster and handed it to
the closest kid.
"Hand it around, and take a look at it." And sheepishly at the teacher,
"The safety is on, and its empty, nothing can happe-" The blast went
straight through the classroom, missing just barely a child at the end of
the line of desks, cutting through a mechanical construction of plastic
blocks, and went upward angled through the window, leaving a neat hole in
the loose drapes. Everyone was too shocked to say anything.
"Maybe you have something less dangerous to hand around, Mr. Palmice,"
the teacher said, still managing to smile. Even the bloody children were
hardly scared, more relieved, or somehow graciously handling the mishap,
as if he misspoken once in a speech. Frank retrieved his weapon, and
agreed quickly. "Alright. Well, if we catch a bad man, we usually cuff
him, so he can't struggle. You know what a bad man is?" he asked, rifling
through his pockets for his cuffs. Didn't he have them on him? "A bad man
is someone who hurts people, who don't ask for it - otherwise its
masochism, and - well, never mind that. Maybe the bad man really hurt
someone physically, or instead stole something, or did something else you
are not allowed to. You don't have many bad people here, don't you?" he
asked puzzled.
"Ah, here they are!" he broke the silence that followed, showing metal
cuffs, on which with red, soft fur covered the insides, to make wearing
them more comfortable. They were *not* Starfleet issue, but more
something he picked up from Pisces the other day, when he won that giftcoupon at that game of poker. "Um...maybe that's not a good idea
neither." He tucked them away, as he caught the teacher winking an eye at
him, and then looking at the cuffs with a smile.
"I trust the class is safe with an officer of the law?" she then said,
making ready to leave the room. "I have to run a quick errand. I will be
back in a minute," she promised. Confused, Frank just nodded, and she was
gone before he realized.
"OK, children," he said, not knowing what to do, but again, the leaflet
bought him a way out. "Why don't you tell me what you would like to be,
when you grow up? You, there, little fellow, yeah, you, with the weird
nose. Do you want to be a big and strong policeman like me?" he asked
hopefully. The boy shook his head, seemingly shy. "No? What than? A
fireman? A spaceman? Come on, tell us, don't be ashamed! Its not like you
want to be a poledancer in a gay bar, now do you?" The kids eyes almost
rolled out, watery, got up and stormed out of the classroom in tears.
"Right...ok."
"Maybe a small story then?" he tried, feeling he was losing his grip,
though most of the children were still smiling. "Lets see...Once upon a
time, there was this little piggy, smaller than his brothers and sisters,
but it was a very happy little piggy, because he had his mommy and his
daddy, and he could play all day, suck on his mommy's tits, and spend
with his dad. But then, one day, when the piglet wasn't so little
anymore, the farmer came, and killed the fat mommy and daddy, because
they were ready to be eaten."
"But the piglet wasn't unhappy, because he had still he brothers and
sisters, who played with him now more, and he could wriggle around in the
mud all day. He really liked that, you know, all lying in the mud and
such. But that went on only so long, when all his brothers and sisters
were taken away, except for the still slightly smaller piggy."
"But still, he wasn't unhappy; for he could play in the pen all by
himself now, having all the space he ever wanted, and all the food he
could eat, now he didn't have to share anymore. He was so happy, all on
his own, and grew big and fat." Triumphantly, he looked around the room,
to see somewhat disturbed faces. "Who knows how the story ends?" A few
wavering hands showed, just when the teacher came back in.
"Sorry I was running so late!" she apologized, mainly to Frank. "Come no
kids, you can go - we took enough time of Mr. Palmice - he has to go back
to his important job." Frank had never seen a room clear so fast - though
they still managed to thank him, almost exclusively, in person, on their
way out. Bloody kids.
"So, Mr. Palmice," the teacher smiled to him, when they were alone. "I
hope they were nice to you?" she said, with that wonderful smile of hers.
So different of the girls on the boulevard. So much..."Those...cuffs, Mr.
Palmice, can you show them to me again?" she asked, putting a playful
finger in her mouth, and coming slowly his way.
=/\= Several Hours Later =/\=
In the darkness, after hours of x-rated pleasure in the classroom - after
all the kiddies had vacated the premises, and only Frank and the lady
teacher remained, Frank was strolling back to the beach merrily, smoking
a cigar from his personal collection. Ahh, life was good. An unexpected
turn, since joining BoB. Everything was so peaceful around him; the
street still warm, the night sky filled with sounds of insects.
Everything was just"YYYYAAAAIIIKKSSS!!!"
The scream cut through the night terribly. Frank dropped startled his
cigar at the horrible cry in the not so far distance. Good God, what the
hell was that? The sounds Mr. Fuzzybum had made were nothing compared to
it; he had never heard something like it. Quickly, Frank pulled his
pistol and rushed to where the sound came from, weapon at the ready.
"Who is there?!" he demanded, looking around as best he could, in the
darkness, only the light of the stars to shine his path. There was
nothing here. Nothing. He looked around in the bushes of the small park
he landed himself in. Nothing...Putting his pistol back, and blaming it
on his own state of mind, Frank decided to let it go.
But when he, in the next day, asked local policemen, who - according
their schedules, had to have been in earshot, or at least close, of the
scream - they looked at him with that eternal smile of them, stating they
heard nothing, but that they were willing to accompany him, and search
the area, or keep a good look out in that neighborhood.
Right.
He didn't imagine it.
Somebody had screamed.
Frank started to worry.
=/\= Faylinn =/\=
"We got her..." The Cardassian glanced over to his comrade with a rather
wicked smile. He brought his hand up, slightly rubbing the scar that he
was gifted with after a certain altercation with a certain security
officer.
"I told you they would put her on BoB you moron." The other whispered
sinisterly. Their position of observance was just off to the left of the
young ensign that was enjoying the breeze. The two eyed the ensign as
leopards just before the pounce. The stance they held was low to the
ground, but not obvious to draw any UN needed attention. The day of
payback had come rather quickly for the two. "What are we going to do?"
"Kill her." He hissed venomously.
This environment was something McAlister could get used to. The breeze,
however light, lifted her spirit to a height that it had not gone in a
long while. Squishing her toes in the sand, she gazed at the sunset, and
just thought about her life at this point. Perhaps, just maybe, BoB was
exactly what was needed right now.
She grinned slightly as she thought about Palmice for a mere second. The
guy was mad...in some capacity or another. Their conversation on this
very sand consisted of her talking and him listening. For some strange
reason, she hoped that he didn't think she was too strange. It was the
first time Savannah had ever wondered what another person thought of her.
Usually, she just did not give a fart so to speak.
With the suns sinking quickly, she decided that it was best to head back
to the base. A duty shift was fast approaching, and for some reason,
McAlister didn't want to be late. Shaking her head, she stood up, brushed
the sand off of her yet again, and proceeded to walk to her destination.
Glancing down, she noticed the sidewalk was rather pity. This in itself
was something that was odd seeing how the place had been kept so nicely.
To her right, a primary school was present. Odd, she thought as she
viewed one light illuminating from one of the upper classrooms...at least
she thought it was a classroom.
Turning to the left, she didn't realize that she was heading in the wrong
direction. The alley was rather small, but, being trained in martial
arts, McAlister's heart did not start to accelerate. Many training
sessions with such a scenario had her secure in the fact that she was
safe just by herself.
The two moved swiftly through the partying crowds as they hunted their
prey.
Upon viewing her entering the alley, the held fast behind a pillar
located diagonal of the entrance of the alley.
"Hmmmmmm." McAlister always had a horrid sense of direction, which was
not good for a security officer. Approaching the dead end, she sighed.
Something wasn't right...there was a sense of urgency that immediately
pulsed through her. Before she could turn around, one grabbed her.
Viewing her abductors, she screamed just as the Cardassian phaser whipped
her.
"Revenge is sweet McAlister..."
=/\= Somewhere on the Planet =/\=
McAlister was still out cold as they locked her in a sitting position in
the chair. The cuffs bit into her ankles, yet at the moment, she did not
feel a thing. The procedure was repeated with her wrists behind the back
of the chair. The click from her cuffs had bounced off the walls of the
room, signaling her possible demise. Her head hung to her left side,
slightly touching her shoulder as her mouth continued to hang open. Eyes
remained shut as a trickle of blood from the open wound on her forehead
danced down her eyelid. The drop was one of several that eventually made
it's way to the tile floor and pooled at her right foot.
With out care, her capture brought a hypospray to her arm that made her
wake from her peace. For McAlister, it was a peace that she would soon
forget. Jerking her head upwards, her eyes rolled back wards to expose
their whiteness. The brightness of the lighting made her continue to
loose focus.
A sharp slapping noise resounded through the crisp air of the room. "Wake
up!"
Her eyes rolled forward ominously. She
large form in front of her as she felt
on her cheek. Starting to focus took a
a icy shiver of fear crept through her
managed to squeak out.
was still not able to focus on the
the wicked pain of the rigged hand
minute, but when she was able to,
body. "Whhaaa..." Was all she
This time, a smoother hand grabbed her chin, forcing her face upwards and
closer to her captors. "Hi there McAlister...remember us?" The hand
dropped, and with it went Savannah's head. With a forced strength, she
shakily rose her head, attempting to support it with her neck. "You"
"Yes...." Motioning towards a table covered by a cloth, the larger of the
two spoke sweetly. "We brought you several presents...I think you'll
remember them." Walking over, he yanked the cloth off the table. Turning
her head slightly, she viewed the 'equipment' she had used on them 3 and
a half years ago.
"Granted, they aren't the same...but they resemble what you used."
Holding up a large, serrated knife, he brought his fingers up and gently
touched the sharpened blade. Anger, shot through him like a bolt of
lightening as he viewed her perfect complection. He had waited three
years for this...for this day...for this time...for her blood to be
spilled...as she had spilled his.
"Nooo." Her breath ragged as she sat, feeling the pinch of the cuffs on
her wrists and ankles. "Please..."
A minute pasted of sheer silence. The sound of his footsteps echoed on
the tile as he walked slowly around her, surveying where he should start
his revenge. The walk of death...Savannah thought. The dull sound
captured the thick air around her, and wouldn't let go. It would be so
easy to kill her now...however, that would bring no relief to him. He had
to do it slowly...with grace and thoughtfulness. The Cardassian wanted
desperately for McAlister to feel what he felt when he was sitting where
she was. The feeling of power, for him, was orgasmic as he stopped dead
in his tracks.
She glanced upwards, catching his demonic gaze upon her. Savannah knew he
decided. She knew then and there, that if something did not change within
the next day or two, she would be dead. Flashing backwards, she viewed
the same look on both of them the mere seconds before they shot her
parents. Fear...fear the likes of which she had never felt before
entwined its way around her, squeezing her like a tight vine. Her
breathing continued to quicken as he leaned forward with the knife. The
light of the room flashed violently on the blade as she felt it touch her
flesh. Closing her eyes, she did the best she could mentally to prepare
for the pain that was to follow.
McAlister felt the coolness of the blade slice through her flesh rather
quickly. Surprisingly, there was no pain, a sign that the cool steel was
dangerously sharp. Bringing her head over, she felt the warm liquid start
to drip down her leg and pool once again at her feet.
Pulling her head up, she stared icily at the Cardassian. "You'll pay."
She hissed.
The baritone laughter was humorous to Savannah for some reason, and she
didn't know why. Grinning somewhat, the grin turned to a frown that
etched itself on her features. "What's going on?" Confusion had slapped
her across the face as she sat there, perplexed by what they where doing
to her.
"Table." Was all the smaller of the two said. Moving her head to the
left, she sucked in her breath as she viewed the chrome table that
ominously waited for her warm body. *Click*...her feet were free. *Click*
her hands were free. Her limbs were free to feel again after becoming
numb from the cuffs that had entrapped them for so long.
"Get up."
She tried...but the wound on her thigh and the numbness in her legs and
arms permitted her no such execution of that order. "I...can't" She
whispered.
Rolling his eyes, the Cardassian hoisted her up her up by one arm,
practically dragging her over to the table. With strength that was normal
for him, he lifted her up with a not too gentle nature, and laid her down
on the icy table. Sucking in her breath, she felt the chill of the table
turn warm at her feet. Knitting her eyebrows, she frowned. That wasn't
right...she thought to herself. A flash of light caught her eye as she
felt the coolness pierce through her abdomen.
Nothing verbal was exchanged from that point, just the work of two mad
men as they silently put an end to McAlister's life. The reason for the
tile for was apparent now as they left her still body on the table. The
small drain in the middle was accepting a mix of McAlister's blood and
the water that it was washed away with. The walls were washed with the
same water as were the table after the ensign's body was un carelessly
stuffed into a black bag.
She felt warm...extremely warm as she was jettisoned through a long
tunnel with a brilliant white light...No pain, just an over whelming
sense of joy.
Savannah knew she was going to meet them. Her parents at the other end of
that tunnel waiting for their raven haired daughter to return to them.
"Savannah..." The voice was unlike anything she had heard before. It was
angelic, with tones that instantly sent relief to her. She knew who the
voice was, before she saw the spirit that it belonged to. "Mom!" The
ensign's hear felt as if it was going to bust as she experienced the joy
that only a daughter can after viewing her mother for the first time in a
long time.
But then, that damned feeling came back to her feet once more. Confusion
was apparent on her features. This isn't right, she thought. Looking
upward, she brought her hand up to shield her face from the heat of the
light she was in. "What's going on..."
A tenor voice cut through the whole scene. "Miss...are you okay?"
Something in her body stirred, and she felt instantly different. Then,
the realization hit her. She felt the sand underneath her body as the sun
beat down on her resulting in little beads of sweat. "Miss?"
Sighing, she opened her eyes and glanced up. The worried face of a
stranger hovered above her. Waving him off, a sense of relief and sheer
longing sprung up deep within her. The experience she had wasn't an
experience at all as she sat up. "I'm fine." She croaked out.
"Okay..."
"Thanks." The ensign muttered. Standing up gingerly, she brushed the sand
off of her. Looking to her right, she smirked as she viewed the remains
of the cooler Frank had forgotten. Grabbing it so she could return it to
him, she started to walk to catch a ride back to the station. She
wondered when exactly, the nightmare was truly going to end.
=/\= Lower Promenade - Starbase BoB =/\=
Aidan watched the green sign with the orange letters and nodded
satisfied. He had come a long way, done a lot of things, but ultimately,
having that sign with that name, over this little, humble store made him
feel prouder then he had felt in years.
"Try 'n take thas from me, yeh silly bollocks" he muttered and took a
small wooden pipe from his chest pocket. "Yeh jus´ try!" he mumbled with
a smile and filled carefully the precious tobacco into the hole.
He looked around and observed several overnight customers being thrown
out of the nearest bar. Nearest bar was a saying, since he had chosen on
purpose the last corner store of the still not even quarter filled deck.
Far away from anybody. Close enough for interested, selected clients. It
was almost perfect. The only thing left, was to get the extra EPS taps he
had requested, as well as the clearance to start using the Industrial
Replicator in the backroom. He could have set everything up by himself,
but in all honesty, he was determined to avoid any unwanted attention,
and the kind of power usage he required would definitely ring a bell or
two at the Ops Station.
And after all, for the first time in many, many years, he had all the
time in the world. Aidan smiled pleasantly and drew out a small wooden
bench and small, complex device with no clear purpose. Drawing deeply on
his pipe, he inhaled the sweet smoke and enjoyed the taste on his tongue.
He sat short, heavy body down and took the device lovingly into his
stubby fingers.
"Ah righ'" he muttered caringly. "You are goin' ter be my special
surprise ferthe nex' battle, yeh know" he added and took up a customized
Microspanner.
=/\= =/\= =/\=
"Ey, baldy" a dragging voice made Aidan look up from his creation. In
front of him, three young men stood, shadows on their chins and under
their eyes, two of them holding bottles in their hands and sneering. The
third one, obviously the one in charge by their gestures, pointed at the
sign. "You know, I don't like that sign. Why don't you do yourself a
favour and get lost, before I find it too offensive to leave anything in
place." the man said in a mocking tone.
Aidan looked up to the sign. "Magic Box. Gimmicks and Curiousities." it
said in large orange delicately knotted letters. "Owner: Aidan Lynch" it
said with smaller letters just underneath. The letters were surrounded by
a fine white border with gold filigrams, all on fresh green background.
"I can' see wha's wrong with i', ladd" he finally turned back to the
youngster, smiling pleasantly.
"I can' see bubbabubba" imitated the young man Aidan, turning to his
peers. "He can't see what's wrong, guys. Mebbe we oughta show him." he
turned back to Aidan, suddenly holding a short knife in his hand.
"I don't like it, that's what's wrong, oldtimer." he threw the knife
playfully from hand to hand. "And if there's something down here I don't
like you be a nice old codger and do as I say. And while we're at it,
where's your credits, man. I don't think you'll be needing them on your
next trip" he hissed menacingly.
Aidan looked mildly interested at the knife, then back at the young
criminal. "Y'see, I really suggest ter put tha' blade away, laddie. Yeh
migh' ge' a wee bit hurt, and we wouldn' wan' tha', aye?" he stated
calmly, remaining in his seat.
The three of them burst out in laughter. "You suggest that I..." snorted
the first man and turned to his peers. "*He* suggests, that *I*..." that
was as far as he got. That moment, Aidan jumped out of his seat at
incredible speed and seized the hand with the knife. With a trained
movement, he spun the youngster around and locked him into a choke with
his his left arm, while placing the knife, now in his right hand, exactly
over the heart.
"I tol' yeh, laddie" he said in the same pleasant tone and looked up to
the other two, who had frozen on their spots. "Now. If all of yeh kindly
remove yer sorry arses from me presence, I'd be truly grateful. Yehr free
ta come back anytime, jus' make sure yeh do it with proper respect,
alrigh'?" he stated and closed the arm carefully over the trachea,
cutting the airstream off and effectively blacking the young man out.
"I'm afraid he's no' goin' ter be able ter walk, y'see. Yeh'll have ter
take 'im along, mind yeh." he informed them calmly and sat back on his
bench. "And din ferget the knife, ladd" he added and threw the blade in a
gracious arc into on of the youngsters hands.
As on cue, they grabbed their passed out leader and dragged him as fast
as they could towards the nearest Turbolift.
"I'm gettin' ol' for 'em kids these days" Aidan grumbled and wiped the
sweat of his bald head. "When yeh think yer out, yer really not" he added
and took up his pipe, refilling it. "I migh' have ter see that Commander
after all" he then grumbled and turned back to his store. No engineer had
shown up to install the taps, and Aidan really wanted to finish
everything for the prescheduled Opening Day.
"Cruel Instrument"
=/\= Argellius =/\=
It had been nothing short of a madhouse; people clamoring about the duel,
the arrest of the House Lord, the return from supposed death. The media
was already going wild, each trying to one-up the other to get 'the hot
scoop' on the newest scandal on the planet.
But they had all been fortunate enough to avoid it all, so far. Secluded
inside the quarters Ron and Caz had been given, he'd seated his mother
into a chair. He was concerned; she'd been returned from a state so close
from death, and he had stood her up and drug her immediately into the
Vre'Denai to save Caz's life. Of course, he hadn't known that he would
have walked in to find her 'on top', so to speak. But it was a risk in a
series of risks he was willing to take.
But now, she was showing a frailty that concerned him; that, along with
Caz's wounds had secured the decision to bypass the soon-to-be mandatory
decisions that would have to be made. After all, they had just deposed
the head of one of the largest, most influential Houses on his home
planet - and Nature abhors a vacuum. A number of things needed to happen;
Ilisisone had to stand the Judgment of his peers, a new House Lord must
be appointed, his mother must be cared for - and Caz as well. So he'd
dealt with what he knew first.
Carefully, he directed her to the bed, and helped her to lay on her
stomach. "You actually seem to have come out of this rather well, Luv,"
he remarked as peeled away the slashed and dirty leathers. Both top and
bottom of the tight-fitting suit had become soaked with blood, matting
themselves to her skin. As gently as possible, he wet the area with a
sponge, and peeled the leather away from flesh.
"I told you the gothic biker chic look was *so* last season," Mulder
gasped, biting her lip to stop herself from crying out. "Okay Doc, tell
me how bad it is - and then get me patched up so's I can limp out of here
and kick some more butt. I've gotten quite an appetite for it." The
sardonic chatter helped her cope as fiery agony shot through her limbs.
She wasn't fooling Ron, and she knew it, but it was her way of dealing
with it. Even so, tears sprang to her eyes and she flinched unwillingly
with every touch.
His eyes filled with hurt as he gazed upon the flayed flesh on the back
of her legs. The Death Whip was a cruel instrument; it's edges serrated
and razor-sharp. They had torn through the back of thighs, shredding
muscle and vein to the point that he could see the dull ivory-white of
bone in some areas. "I have my medical kit here, fortunately - I won't
have to do some form of primitive surgery on you. But I don't have neural
stunners, and very little medications that shall relieve the pain to any
significant degree."
His gaze traveled the length of her body, and shook his head guiltily.
"Poor Caz - I've used you in a most dreadful way, and haven't even
offered the briefest of apologies." He reached out and gently brushed her
hair back from her face, and caressed her cheek. "I am truly sorry,
Ca'assirri Mulder. You have been the instrument that has saved my House
from spiralling down into barbarism - but yet, I have used you like the
basest of tools." He leaned forward and kissed her cheek.
Across the room, Rak'hael got up from the chair she was sitting in, and
crossed over to the bed. Kneeling down beside it, she gently stroked the
hair back from Caz's cheek. "You are such a brave woman." She murmured.
"I, too owe you my life. If it weren't for you standing up to Foester, I
would have been..." her voice dropped to a whisper, "burned alive."
"Hey, you're family, right? You're *Ron's* family, and since I'd quite
happily give my life for this man, then it stands to reason I'd do the
same for you. I am Jaz'Aarian - and we believe in the family unit as much
as you believe in family honour." She gave a weak smile, "Besides, it was
worth it to meet you. Though next time - just an offer of a cup of tea
and a slice of cake will suffice."
Ron pressed the hypospray against his patient's neck, then leaned forward
to grip Caz's shoulder. "This is going to hurt, I'm afraid. I've given
you something to dull the pain, but it won't be enough to stop it
completely."
"Pain is nature's way of telling you you're still alive," she ground out
through gritted teeth. "And y'know. somehow I'd rather be conscious and
hurting than out cold." Her mind wandered back to the last time she had
been injured, only then almost fatally, when the Trinn had shot her. The
last despairing moments of consciousness still gave her nightmares,
sometimes reliving the seconds when she truly believed she was dying and
would never see Ron again. "Go on then, Doc. Do whatever you have to do."
He nodded unhappily, and bent over her back. Grabbing a pair of
hemostats, he began to pick out the small bits of leather still remaining
in the deep gouges.
The pain hit her like a stab with a red-hot iron. Even through the outer
layer of anesthetic she could feel the probing deep in the raw painful
nerve endings and she gripped the pillow, trying to bite it in the
attempt not to scream.
Rak'hael yelped, falling backwards from the bed. Her arms strained and
scrabbled at her own back. The sound made Mulder forget her agony for a
second, and she looked around despairingly, hoping it wasn't some delayed
reaction to the drugs Rak'Hael had been pumped with. Ron jumped slightly,
turning to his mother. For a moment, he'd thought she herself was hurt.
"Mother? Are you all right?"
"Intrusion"
=/\= Argellius =/\=
A flush crept across Rak'hael's face. "Yes, Ranag. I'm sorry. I just
wasn't...prepared..."
Understanding dawned upon Ron's countenance, and he nodded. "Perhaps you
should...wait outside."
Rak'hael nodded in return, embarrassment oozing out of every pore of her
being. She touched Caz briefly on the elbow, and then scampered out of
the room. As the door clicked closed, Ron sighed. "Sorry 'bout that." He
stated quietly as he bent over to resume his work.
"What was all that about? Is your mum squeamish about medical procedures?
That's a bit of a bummer, what with you being a doctor and all..."
"I should have warned both of you," he muttered as he moved closer,
blotting the slight welling of blood from the gash he was working on.
"Mother's an empath - and the sudden pain-"
OH SHIT NO!" Mulder jerked upwards. "An EMPATH? So she wasn't *reacting*
to the medical treatment - she was bloody well FEELING it - she was
inside my feelings!" Every Jaz'Aarian phobia and loathing of mind-messers
activated in her and she wanted to escape.
Ron pulled back just in time to avoid hitting his face on her back.
"Hey!" he protested. "Lay back down."
"Ron...she's an *empath*!" Mulder was almost incoherent, the tears
falling freely now as this latest shock dashed the last barriers of
resistance to the ground. "I can't...I'm sorry...but you *know* how I
feel about that. It's like I've been." she was going to say 'violated'
but bit back the word, knowing it was too harsh for Ron to hear. "It just
feels...wrong," she amended.
Gently but forcibly, Ron pushed her pack to the bed. "I know. But let's
get these wounds closed. That is more important at the moment." He shook
his head as he bent back to work.
Sniffing her tears back, Mulder groaned as she lay back down. She knew
that Argellians had a reputation for being empaths. *Every* Jaz'Aarian
knew all the races in the galaxy which were telepathic or empathic, so
they could avoid them wherever possible. It was the biggest social and
cultural taboo of her people, to allow someone to be inside their mind.
At least, it hadn't infected Ron too. She remembered clearly asking him
about it on the very first day they had met, and he had assured her that
he was no empath. Funny how even back then she'd maybe known,
subconsciously, that this man was special, and it had been important to
establish that fact from the very start. She would have to ask him some
time how he had managed to avoid it. Maybe it was from his mysterious,
absent father...
"I can't deal with this right now," she sighed. "I guess, it's not
something we can solve here and now. Let's forget about it, okay? Just
for now. Let's...get this over with."
Rather than comment, Ron focused on his task. Fortunately, the wounds
were mostly clean from the copious amount of bleeding that had occurred
during the duel. Finally, he tugged the wounds closed with a specific
chemical glue that wound not only hold the tissue together, but would
also promote healing. "I'm done."
"So am I." Mulder muttered, hating to sound ungrateful but feeling as fed
up now, as it was possible to be. "So, when will the Doctor allow me to
get the hell out of here? And if it's anything like last time, forget it.
Prolonged infirmary stay I need like a hole in the head right now."
"Actually love, the Doctor prescribes bed rest. You've lost a great deal
of blood, and I don't have any way to re-infuse fluids without resorting
to archaic methods that include puncturing the skin with needles. So rest will do you good." He hung his head. "I'm sorry. I should have
brought a more advanced medkit than what the shuttle stocked."
"Eh, you've done the best you can." She was shocked at a subconscious
level how cranky she was sounding. "Alright, if sleep it must be, then
that's what I'll do. I'm not staying in bed forever, though. Now this is
sorted, we've got a starbase to get back to. Ethiks only knows what
disasters have happened while I've been away..." she was mumbling now as
fatigue was starting to drain her last reserves.
Gently, he helped her underneath the sheets of the bed. Once she
painfully adjusted herself to a position of some comfort, he gave her one
more injection. "This will help you get some rest."
"Thanks, dearest man of mine. Sorry to be so grouchy. It's just been one
of those days, y'know?" she tried to muster up some final bit of spirit.
Smiling at her, he placed a careful kiss on her bruised lips. "Sleep, my
love."
"Yeah. For a bit," she closed her eyes as the mild sedative started to
affect her system. The last thought she had, surprisingly, was not of the
battle, or the empath issue, or even of the pain - but of a clapped-out
starbase far far away, and a quirky, eccentric crew. Even the ones - or
maybe just *one*, singular - that could be a pain in the ass...
She wanted to go home.
=/\= Main Engineering - Starbase BoB =/\=
"Speaking of the devil," Omar commented as she saw Lt Sagi.
Sagi barely looked up at the words, being too busy reading up on her
console. "Which devil might that be?"
"The one with eyes glued to the console, maybe. So how's the orbiting
looking like?" Lt Omar enquired.
Sagi finally turned to look at Omar. "We're not there yet...but I have an
idea how we can do it."
"How?"
Sagi picked up a nearby PADD. "It's like this...this base wasn't meant to
move anywhere...first attempts to fire off whatever thrusters we do have
didn't have the expected results." (though that of course depended on
what "expected" meant around this place. In their case, it meant having
to manually go and rewire half a deck.) "We're slowly but surely being
pulled in...and so we need to find a way to get into orbit, first, and
achieve rotation, second."
"Go on."
"Well...physically speaking, we don't really need much thrust. We just
need to get into the right position, taking into account the magnetic
field etc of the planet below. It might be enough if we apply outside
thrust at just the right point...from a ship, for example."
Omar mulled it over for a while. Perhaps this new deputy of hers wasn't
such a bad idea after all, surly and ill-tempered as she may be.
Sagi waited, though not really patiently. Seeing that the CEO was
thinking, she turned back to her console, to bring up the calculations.
Overall it was pretty quiet in Engineering now, especially as they'd
stopped playing around with the thrusters.
"Alright," Yus approved. "Let's go with that idea for now. We've got
boosters which will be good enough to thrust us into Faylinn's magnetic
field."
"We do?" Sagi asked, surprised. She had no idea the station *had*
boosters. It wasn't on any spec at least that she saw.
"I've got authorisation for it," Omar assured her. "Only a matter of
minutes to load and launch." She hit a few commands to her underlings to
get the relevant work done before leaning back in her chair.
Sagi glanced at all her calculations then shrugged. Boosters could do the
job, she figured.
"So how did it go that day with Palmice?" she asked her deputy.
Sagi smirked, now that the responsibility for getting the base into orbit
was off her shoulders. "Somebody installed the wrong firmware...I told
him I'll get in a request for the right version."
Omar rolled her eyes. "He get pissy on you?" she asked. "Docking is a
little stressful, especially when people keep coming over and bugging you
to hurry."
"I'm sure." Sagi tended to agree, though she couldn't really care much
whether this or that crewman were having a bad day of it.
"The morale should be better now that there's plenty of R&R available,"
Omar smiled dreamily. "I heard rumors that it's beautiful down there.
Hoping to head down there later."
A quick frown appeared on Sagi's face. Omar was about to take R&R?
"You planning to show up there?"
Sagi smirked. "I'm planning...I just don't see how I would. With all the
work around here..." she twirled a hand around to encompass the entire
engineering bay. "I don't think I've been able to stop running around
ever since I got there," she continued on, just in case her boss was too
slow, "Run, run, run, run, run. Fix this, fix that...I barely see my bed
at night."
Omar gazed at her in surprise. "I was just kidding, y'know, when I said
it's all work and no play. You've gotta take some time out to chill."
"But who would take care of the base?"
"The base can take care of itself. We'll have to set the orbit first and
then get our playtime. Someone from Ops would probably be monitoring all
movements."
Sagi somehow did not trust Ops. She did not trust her engineering staff
much either. She had this feeling that if she wasn't personally watching
evertyhing these nincompoops would mess it all up. "But-"
"Its R&R for you, Lt Sagi - and that's an order!" Yus said with a hint of
a smile.
Sagi was about to argue, but then she caught herself. *She* was about to
*argue* over having to go on shore leave?! She nodded quickly. "Aye, aye,
sir" with a quick flourish of a salute to boot.
Omar just shook her head.
It was one of those obscenely manic days and she had an anonymous message
that some of her staff were moonlighting. She hoped that if they were,
they had saved her some. Either that, or they'd just have to get their
asses kicked, whoever they were.
=/\= Starbase Raven =/\=
"What do you mean, they left?" asked Lt. Ethan Greywald annoyed, stroking
nervously his moustache.
"What's with the message I left for Cmdr. McArnh. Did you deliver it?" he
pointed at the Brig Master. "I did" answered the latter. "He was probably
too drunk to take notice of it." he added apologetically. "And they've
been ordered off the base rather quick, seeing that the entire crew spent
a night here." he tried to justify himself.
"Drunk?" Greywald could barely believe it. The brigmaster had probably
forgotten to deliver his message and was trying to excuse himself, but on
the other hand... What kind of crew was that, that was thrown into the
brig, CO included? That was too far fetched too be a lie, and could
easily be checked out.
"Was a Harlan de Carabas between the prisoners?" he asked, still stroking
his moustache. "As a matter of fact, yeah, there was." answered the
Brigmaster checking his screen. "Claimed to be CSec on the Caledonia. Got
into a barbrawl with his entire detachment. Oh, that's the guy who was
stuck in here for an extra day." he grinned, remembering the group and
the furious Lt.
"So he really made it. At least that's cleared" muttered Greywald to
himself and turned around. "Sorry I couldn't help more. Are they in in
trouble?" asked the Brigmaster curiously. "That remains to be seen"
answered Greywald absentminded and left the brig.
=/\= Cockpit - USS Independence =/\=
"Computer, dispatch message to the USS Caledonia, mark as Urgent Level 3.
That should draw their CO's attention." Greywald indicated and leaned
back on the comfortable pilots seat.
"Begin recording" he then said, waiting for the confirmation.
"Commander McArnh, this is Lt. Ethan Greywald, Chief Security Officer at
Trigel Waystation. During certain events that I will explain in detail as
soon as we meet, your Chief Security Officer, as well as several of your
Security Crew have been present or involved in the murder of a Starfleet
Officer suspect of acts of piracy and smuggling amongst other crimes.
It is imperative that I meet and escort said Officer back to Trigel to
clarify this situation. It could either help unmask a murderer and give
the final blow to a pirate ring that has cost many Federation lifes.
Lt(JG). de Carabas could be either key witness or criminal; in both
cases, I can't stress the importance and delicacy of the matter at hands.
I will be heading to your location now, and I hope for your full
cooperation with our problem. I act with full support of my superior
officer, Cpt. Jerome Cardenas.
Respectfully Lt. Ethan Greywald of Trigel Waystation. End record, encrypt
and send." he closed his monologue and entered the Caledonias last known
coordinates into the nav system.
=/\= Black Hole Bar & Grill - Lower Promenade - Starbase BoB =/\=
"Will ya look at that..."
"It's true! I thought mebbe sumone was messin' with us..."
Cade ripped his eyes from the spectacle that was the news to see that the
bar had started to fill up. Most were just staring at the screens, but a
few were buying. He glanced over to the closest one, a merchant sailor by
the looks. "How'd you hear about this?"
The young man pointed back over his shoulder. "It's on all the screens on
the Promenade."
Cade didn't even swear as he spun from the bar stool and charged into the
Promenade. He looked around at all the screens and sure enough, they were
all broadcasting the fight. "Son of a..."
"OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" The cheer echoed from the various establishments and
onto the Promenade causing Cade to look up and see Mulder plant a kiss on
her opponent. The follow-up head-butt received a resounding,
"YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYYYYYY," from a variety of inebriated and nearinebriated voices.
He tapped his comm badge. "Vaughan to Ops."
Ops, Major. Specialist Richardson.
"Care to explain why all the Promenade screens are set to the news feed
featuring Captain Mulder?"
We...uhhh...thought it would be a good idea.
"I think you meant, 'a good idea, *SIR*" didn't you?"
Yes, sir!
"Good. Now get that fekking feed off of the public monitors, right the
fek now!"
Working on it, Major.
The screens flicked back to the usual advertisements and entertainment
holos, but not before the damage was done and 90% of the base had seen
the happenings on Argellius. And not before Cade saw the shot, a close-up
courtesy of the newscam operator, of the opponent's weapons wrap around
Mulder's leg and tear a few chunks of flesh out.
"Rest assured, *Crewman* Richardson, that we will be discussing this
later. Vaughan out." He closed the channel without waiting for a reply.
He walked back into the bar to see the end of the fight and the arrest of
fat guy that Jerillion had smacked around earlier.
People began filtering out again as he regained his stool. The bartender
raised a well-manicured eyebrow and he nodded in response and tapped an
empty shotglass near him. The bar was back to almost empty again by the
time the drink was put down in front of him. He tossed back the shot of
tequila and chased it with the Guiness. "St. David in heaven, Mulder,
what did you get yourself into now," he muttered under his breath before
chugging the rest of the pint.
=/\= Bridge - USS Caledonia =/\=
"Knight three-one-zero-three to Caledonia...do you read?"
Jinti's head shot up so quick her vertabreae almost crackled. That voice
- crackly although the comm was, it sounded like...someone she knew. But
it couldn't be, she told herself. he was long gone and he wasn't coming
back. Was he?
She turned to look at Grey, having to almost physically restrain herself
from yelling, 'Well, *answer* the freakin' thing, willya?!' so impatient
was she to be put out of her misery.
The voice was familiar to the Commander as well, but he couldn't pinpoint
it. "Commander McArnh here. Identify yourself, shuttle." It was plain to
see that Jinti was anxious, and although she was - in no uncertain terms
- a bit of a freak, she did seem to have a bit of a sixth sense
sometimes.
Relaxing into his seat as the voice of a man he'd breifly met echoed
through the helmet, Eddie smiled inwardly, "Commander, this is Eddie
O'Reilly."
"Well, why didn't you say so sooner," McArnh said flatly. "Rather an
over-dramatic entrance, Mister O'Reilly. And what exactly is that
vessel?"
Eddie looked around himself; at the shiny knobs and buttons. "Knight
class fighter...i think it's state of the art." Then he paused and eyed
the Federation vessel in the distance. "Can i dock?"
McArnh shrugged to himself. Having another craft on board was always
useful, and he had become very adept at denying things in reports as far
as stock went. "Very well. Miss Lamarr, the state of our shuttlebay," he
asked gently.
"Fan-bloody-tastic!" she exclaimed before adding quickly. "The
shuttlebay, that is. Fastastic clean, it is. An' tidy. An' yeah, we c'n
always use another li'l speeder. I'll make room fer it myself, if'n ya
likes?" She was holding onto the console to stop herself from bouncing
around in her seat.
In observing the pilot, McArnh noticed an aura of eagerness, a brightness
that he wasn't often used to seeing in her. "Perhaps, on this occasion,
it would be best for you to verify a safe landing from the bay itself,"
he said to her quietly.
"Yah-thanks-I'm-on-my-way-Skipper," she gabbled, leaping out of her seat.
"Be back in a bit," she bounded over to the turbolift door. "Zellers,
keep an eye on the helm," she called over her shoulder as an
afterthought.
Once the lift started it's descent she slapped the side of it. "Hot damn.
He came back. Don't mean nuthin' though, so stop yer bubblin' and jist
act nat'ral."
Entering the shuttlebay, she activaed the forcefild and then swung open
the bay door, allowing the sparkle of starlight to be revealed in the
black inkyness of space. "Git along in if'n yet gittin'" she called,
trying to sound casual.
Drifting the fighter ever nearer to the ship, he waited patiently and
controlled the landing with a concentration he'd not seen for years.
Powering down the K-5, he depressed the canopy button and felt it swoosh
open above him. Then silence, he waited, unsure how to react, how to feel
now that the moment was before him.
"I don't know whut's the more welcome sight - you or that purty l'il
machine," Jinti's voice broke through the reverie. "Git yer ass out here,
flyboy. So's I c'n be sure you ain't some appyrition."
A smile broke his face, and in standing from the small cockpit he
unclipped the helmet and exposed his helmet hair. Grinning like he so
rarely did, Eddie literally leapt to the deck below and opened his arms.
And she walked right into them, not really knowing what she was doing or
where this was going, but just more glad than she could say that he was
back. "I missed ya," was all she said, hugging him. "Dammit, I missed
ya."
Embracing her, he smiled again. "I'm back. I don't know where we're
going, what we're doing or how things are going to work...but i'm back.
And i know i care about you." Leaning back and locking his eyes on her's,
he nodded, "That much i do know."
"I ain't never cared fer anyone before," her voice and smile were softer
than anyone would recognise. "Come ta think of it, I ain't never had
anyone ta care fer me, either. So I guess I dunno whut's gonna happen
either. I'm jist real glad I'm gonna be findin' out with you, Eddie
O'Reilly."
He stapped back and tugged gently at the flightsuit he wore. "This is all
i have. Well...and that," he pointed to the fighter. "But if you'll have
me, i'm yours."
"Youz all I wants," she assured him. "An' I ain't got much above a good
suit, a carton o'smokes an' a still full o'hooch. So if we ain't got
nuthin' together, I guess that means we got everything."
"Heh...you know, i think you're right Miss. Lamarr." Wrapping his arm
around her side with more ease than he'd expect, he began to walk towards
the corridor beyond and mused aloud, "I guess this means i'm playing
bartender again, has much changed...?"
=/\= Turbolift - USS Caledonia =/\=
Harlan had remained silent since the two of them had entered the lift. On
one side Jintis poison was awfully strong, with a special aftereffect
that made the colours look brighter and the sounds louder. On the other
side, his head was spinning around his subordinates. In an ideal case
both of them should have informed him at once about the situation,
instead of acting as they did.
He hadn't known them for too long, but he had had the sensation that they
had become friends during the last months. One tough situation after the
other did that to you, it either tore the team apart or banded them
together. Harlan had a shrewd idea about Connors opportunism, hell, he
had seen the man in action more then once.
But one thing was to try and take advantage of some moron on a far out
Starbase, and the other was to try and con one of his shipmates. That was
definitely crossing a fine line of decency that Harlan had not imagined
he would cross. And Serwal. Connors eternal sidekick. The man with common
sense and the wrong friend. Harlan wondered if he would have to sit down
with his crew and start to take their business a bit more serious.
Difficult as ever on this particular ship with this particular crew, but
hell, somebody had to make a start. At least a start and then see what
was next.
"Erm...are you alright?" asked Zim. Since entering the turbolift Harlan
had seemed kind of out of it. Zim had a feeling the potent hooch had
something to do with it. Truth be told he could still taste the shot he'd
had. Maybe that would work out for the best though. Zim wasn't sure what
he'd done to aggrivate Harlan, aside from arrive on the Caledonia, so
maybe the after effects of the hooch would mellow things out.
Harlan turned and looked at the short Ferengi. "Sorry" he muttered,
"yeah, I'm good. You on the other hand" he placed his hand on the
Ferengis shoulder. "are going to explain me why there's a tunnel from
your room to mine, ending just where I stash my personal belongings and
filled with grubs that seem to think my bathroom is *the* place to be."
he said grim, but not angry anymore.
"Oh...so that's where the burrow leads." Zim was starting to see what was
bothering Harlan. A room full of unwelcome grubs could be rather off
putting, especially if you were a species that didn't quite enjoy the
fine dining that such grubs provided.
He gave Harlan a side-long glance as the lift haphaxadly made its way
along. "You see, when I left for training on Earth, I was in a bit of a
rush. I only had time to pack a bag before I had to leave. So a lot of my
belongings were left in my quarters, one of them being an dish full of
tube grubs."
At this point Zim flashed a toothy grin at Harlan, "I'd gotten tired of
hew-man food see, so I'd started to grow some of my own. Years of
starfleet food had kinda left me with an urge for some proper Ferengi
cuisine." He licked his lips absent-mindedly, "Anyway, in my absence
they'd escaped and burrowed into one of the bulkheads. Which I guess
leads to your...bathroom."
"Ewww" Harlan felt really disgusted by the thought. "You *eat* those??"
he asked with disbelief.
"Of course! What else would I do with them?" Zim picked up on Harlan's
tone. "They're full of nutrients, and the taste...well good grubs are to
die for."
"Ey, a hamburger is tasty, not very nutritious, but tasty nontheless. And
it has the advantage of being dead already. I can't picture a burger
trying to escape from my plate, whereas those... yuck, man. How can you
do that without throwing up??" Harlan replied, trying to get rid of the
mental picture. He failed.
Zim frowned at Harlan, "Them being alive is part of the point. The
fresher they are, the tastier they are. Plus, they give a nice wriggle as
they go down."
Harlan punched mentally his imagination to stay put and avoid drawing the
scene of a tube grub wriggling around his teeth. He was too late.
"Dammit, Zim" he protested weakly, feeling his stomach dance rumba at the
mental picture, his face distorted into a mask of disgust.
Noticing Harlan's reaction Zim smiled, "You're more than welcome to try
some. I've heard tube grubs compared in taste to pagh. You know, that
Klingon dish of live worms."
"Remind me to avoid that too. I don't eat anything unless it's been dead
for enough time, frozon, cooked, grilled, cut, properly dressed and
chewed before it reaches my stomach." he said resolutely. "Or at least
replicated close enough to that" he added on an afterthought.
"Meh." Zim wrinkled his nose slightly more than usual. "Cooking. I can
stomach it but ..." He shook his head.
Now it was Harlans turn to grin. "What's wrong with a good, well-done
steak with fries on the side, Zim? You're free to try that anytime and
see how good it tastes. Who knows, it might even throw you of your
wriggly worm diet." he said maliciously. "Besides, that would ensure that
my room remains nice and clea