USS
Galaxy:The Next Generation Sim Log Stardate: 50302.03 - 50302.08 |
****
Commander Rebecca von Ernst slumped back into the loving arms of the oversized command chair and wearily rubbed at her exhausted eyes.
~~~Noodles on a half-shell,~~~ she yawned mentally, ~~~Who would have thought there could be so many places to hide on a single ship.~~~
Eight hours of relentless detective work had only scratched the surface of the investigation into the theft of Bhrode's desk. A task made infinitely more difficult by the malfunction of ships internal sensors.
Stifling a yawn for real this time, and idly swinger her dainty feet (which did not quite reach the floor) Rebecca tapped out her signature on the most recent of Investigation updates.
~~~How come I get stuck here with the crime of the century, while Noodle-head Lysander gets shore leave? I bet he's snuggling up to some icky Klingon floozy trying to look at her boobies or something.~~~
Rebecca's freckled nose scrunched into a scowl. Klingons and Commander Hawksley were definitely high on her 'icky' list.
"Computer," she announced to the air, " log all security measures to official record and flag copy to Starfleet Command."
=/\=LOGGED AND SENT=/\=
She peered around the eerily quiet bridge. Not a sound was to be heard save for the quiet chirps of fingers on LCARS consoles.
Hours ago when the incident was first reported the flame haired little XO had been an emotionless mask of professionalism. Her ice hard glare had withered any idle chatter, and her disapproving sighs had dismissed their most stringent efforts as being insufficient.
In fear, the skeleton had learned to keep quiet and instead hunched their aching shoulders over their displays, focused on the exhaustive search.
That was hours ago now, and the only trace of Rebecca the Ice Queen was the occasional pained grimace she made. ~~~Ow ow ow ow. . .my head is going to split open if I look at one more ship's diagnostic.~~~
With the coming of the headache her cool demeanor had faded away back into her typical skittishness.
Fortunately for her, stuttering took a lot of energy so her speech oddly improved when she was exhausted. Wincing against the glare, she lifted her eyes back to the main viewer.
The view screen of the bridge no longer displayed its peaceful view of lanJep from orbit, but instead detailed a holographic overlay of the USS Galaxy's Deck Plans.
Multicolored computer labels detailed the results of the intense bow-to-stern search for clues, and the position of every Security patrol presently aboard the vessel.
Little colored dots move too and fro across the screen as the much-degraded security department struggled to search every nook and cranny of the mammoth vessel.
Unfortunately there was to be no outside help.
Hours ago, Rebecca had initiated a level one Security lock-down for the entire vessel, effectively cutting it off form the outside world, and (hopefully) preventing the intruders from escaping.
Low level shielding prevented anyone from beaming to or from the Galaxy, and massive internal bulkheads had slammed shut around the ship's vital Bridge, Engineering, and Computer centers. Only someone with a portable blowtorch, and a LOT of patience could gain access to these areas now.
Unfortunately this prevented some eager crewmembers from beaming down to enjoy lanJep's resorts, and the resultant grumbling was becoming contagious.
"Status report Ms Ocana?" Rebecca inquired softly of the inexperienced young Ops Officer. The massive shore leave had left the XO with mainly raw recruits to man critical stations, and her own security measures prevented her recalling anyone else from the surface.
"No luck Ma'am" Ocana replied with a frown. "Nobody seems to know where Dr. Quick or Captain Bhrode are at the moment, although some Crewmembers I was able to talk to mentioned seeing the Captain take off with some Klingons in some sort of ground vehicle."
"Con. .concentrate on Quick. . . . We need those internal scanners up and running."
"Aye Ma'am."
Several more maddeningly slow minutes passed in utter silence. Rebecca closed her eyes against her throbbing headache and resumed swinging her legs. ~~~This is ridiculous... I'm not doing any good sitting her making the crew nervous... I need to find Quick personally.~~~
Making up her mind, Rebecca slid off the end of the chair onto her feet, and stretched painfully untwisting the knots in her back. "Mr. Munro, Call Transporter Room 3 and tell them to prepare to beam me down to lanjep. I'm gonna go track down the Doctor and the Captain personally."
The young helmsman looked worried, "Beam down? What about the Security isolation?"
"What about it?"
"Well... Its...uh designed to keep the intruders from beaming off. But if you beam down yourself..."
"That's why I'm the only one going." Rebecca shrugged. "I know I didn't steal the desk, so I'm the only one I can trust. Commander Dallas is still aboard ship and I'll leave her in Command."
The other bridge officers didn't look convinced, but wisely held their peace.
"Very Well Commander," Ensign Munro nodded, "however Ma'am, if I may offer one bit of suggestion..." he glanced meaningfully at Rebecca's crisp black Starfleet uniform.
"W...w..what?" She protested. Even after all these years she was still a bit uncomfortable with stares from the opposite sex. "Is it dirty...or wrinkled?"
"No Ma'am, its just that this is not a Federation planet, and it would not be especially smart for a full Commander to walk around advertising the fact. You'd make a tempting target what with all your security codes and all."
Rebecca gulped. "Oops. point taken Ensign. I'll change clothes."
"Okay... I mean Aye Ma'am"
Ten minutes later in a sparkle of blue light Rebecca materialized on the surface of a quaint looking seaside resort.
Her starched Federation jumpsuit was gone, only to be replaced by a simple but flattering flower-print sundress her mother had sent to her for her birthday. The smooth cotton textures, and the still detectable scent of her mother's detergent brought vivid memories of her farmland home back to her.
~~~Oh Momma.~~ she sighed mentally, ~~~What am I doing way out here on the far end of the universe? Is this the life I really wanted? Alone... and away from home?~~~
The seaside breeze playfully tugged at her dress's hemline, and pulled an errant strand of red hair out from where she had tucked it behind her ears.
Instead of automatically reaching to put it back in place she decided to let it wave, enjoying the soft tickle of the strands against her cheeks. It was not unlike one of those breezy Minnesotan afternoons from her youth.
~~~Except for the temperature... ugh its hot.~~~ Rebecca fanned herself with her hand, thankful that she hadn't chosen to were the stifling fleet uniform.
Scanning the crowded resort, she was at once intimidated by the size and strangeness of the crowd. For several moments there was not a single human to be seen anywhere, as aliens abounded everywhere.
~~~Noodles, what the heck did I get myself into ~~~ she thought nervously. At heart, extraterrestrials still made her nervous.
****
"I'm sorry the evening didn't go the way you planned," Victor offered as he exited the café.
"That's all right dear one," Ar'resh sighed as she took his arm. "It was an emergency aboard your ship; we understand how those things are. At least James..."
"...said it was all right for you to stay with us so we had an escort home."
Rexa took his other arm. "The streets aren't very safe after dark, you know."
~ I pity the thief that tries to rob the two of you - he'd be begging the police to take him away. ~ "I wouldn't have been much use anyway. O'Rourke and her team are aboard and they don't need my help." ~ Or want me within a hundred meters. ~
"It was a good evening though - just think we had dinner with James Corgan...." Ar'resh leaned into Victor and sighed. " We really had..."
"...dinner with him. He's even nicer than we imagined he'd be... and he wears briefs, too. I could tell from the way his cute little butt moved while we..."
"...were dancing," Ar'resh smiled dreamily."
Victor wisely chose to say nothing about that revelation - or think about it for too long.
"Now if you'd just invited that nice Ella to dinner..."
"...everything would have been perfect," Ar'resh pointed out.
"Lieutenant Grey and I are not doing whatever it is you want us to be doing," Victor sighed. "She just... talked to me, that's all."
"Still..." Rexa stopped, and sighed. "Heinrich, dear one, I left my purse inside - can you run get it for me?"
"Yes," he nodded, glad for the escape. "You two are going to be all right?"
"We'll be fine," Ar'resh assured him. "What could happen?"
~ There are so many awful answers to that question that I won't try and think of them all. ~ "I'll be right back," he promised, turning back into the café.
Rexa watched him go. "He really is a good boy, just like our Bernhard was. I just wish..."
"I know," her sister agreed. "But there's no point in it. He is who he is - we'll just have to keep trying until we find the right girl for him, that's all."
Rexa squinted ahead. "Speaking of girls... I think that young child is lost."
"The one by the corner there? With the red hair?"
"Yes."
"Poor thing, she shouldn't be out here alone. Let's go see if we can help her out."
****
Alone in a sea of aliens, Rebecca vainly stood on her little tip-toes trying to figure a way out of this crowd.
~~~Noodles on a stick, this was a silly idea.~~~ she berated herself nervously. From the command chair in orbit it had seemed a simple matter to beam down and locate either Captain Bhrode or Dr. Quick.
Surrounded on all sided by hulking Klingons, Nausicans, and other weirdoes of questionable bathing habits it was another matter entirely.
~~~Ick!~~~ she gasped as one particularly noxious alien accidentally rubbed up against her. ~~~Haven't Klingons heard of anti-persperant?~~~
Hugging her bare, sleeveless arms in disgust, Rebecca shuddered. ~~~A Warrior's Smell.~~~ she mused.
Twisting like a spindle, her head whipped this way and that searching for any sign of her quarry. At one point she thought she saw a Galaxy crewmember about a half-block in the distance, but the crush of aliens cut her off before she could make headway.
(Point of fact, but the crowd was NOT really that overwhelming, but when you are a mere 5 foot nothing amid a sea of seven foot Klingons, the world looks like one uninterrupted wall of armpits.)
~~~Help.~~~ she bit her lower lip and gave a small 'hop' trying to see better.
The effect made her seem more lost and childlike in appearance.
It was then that a soft blue arm reached out of the crowd and grabbed her by her little freckled shoulder.
"EEEK!" Rebecca nearly leapt out of her skin in surprise, as an image of every blue-skinned man-eating alien known to Federation Science flashed through her mind.
(There were times when a good memory was not helpful)
"Arrrr. . . .I smells me the blood of human flesh. . .prepare to be eaten!!!"
"W..w..w.w.wha... huh... who?." Rebecca stuttered intelligently, her teeth chattering.
"I said," Rexa repeated with a sweet smile, "...are you lost little girl? Are you."
".hungry? Have you eaten?" finished Ar'resh with a similar look of concern.
~~~Wha-Andorian. . .Who?~~~
At a moment when it was Klingons as far as the eye could see, the two blue-skinned Federation members was close enough to human for Rebecca's mind, and a wave of relief washed across her features.
The two women towered over Rebecca, both attired in similar white formal dresses, cut both for aesthetics, as well as mobility.
Their azure complexion was set off by silvery manes of iridescent hair, in which one wore a dusting of tiny crystals that sparkled in the resort lighting. The shorter Andorian (they were both tall to Rebecca) wore her own hair long and loose, brushing just below her waist in billowy waves that for a moment reminded Rebecca of her own mothers luscious red locks.
"Oh dear, the poor child is frightened out of her wits," said one her face softening into a look of sympathy.
"... or perhaps she cannot speak or doesn't know he language," the other postulated, and fixed Rebecca with a critical stare, "D-o y-o-u s-p-e-a-k F-e-d-e-r-a-t-i-o-n B-a-s-i-c ?" she asked speaking slowly and enunciating clearly.
Rebecca's brain finally caught some traction, and she furrowed her brows in confusion. ~~~What the noodles.~~~ she thought attempting to withdraw a little, being quite intimidated by the elegant twin beauties towering over her.
"O...o.. of course I s...sp...speak Basic." She sputtered. ~~~Oh great time for my stutter to kick in.~~~ "W...w...w.what do you want from me?... l .l.. let go...please."
"Oh good," The taller woman sighed, still smiling. "I don't have my notebook with me tonight. "are you sure, you're all."
".right?" the other woman completed, the words meshing seamlessly. "No one's tried to hurt you, have they?" She frowned at the idea.
"Ar'resh. I don't think." The taller woman let go of Rebecca's arm. "No, I think she's just a little overwhelmed, that's all."
"Oh, well we'll take care of that," The shorter woman - Ar'resh - reached out and took Rebecca's hand with a friendly smile. "I'm Ar'resh, and this is my sister, Rexa. What's."
.your name?" Rexa asked. She paused, looking closer at Rebecca with the same practiced eye Rebecca had seen on doctor after doctor in her career. "And, I 'm sorry if this is rude, but. how old are you?"
"How old?" For the briefest of seconds Rebecca felt her face flush with a hint of anger. Not at the concerned women necessarily, but rather at her own much-hated features. Apparently she was being mistaken for a child again, something that would amuse Noodle-headed Lysander to no end.
"My name is Rebecca, and. I. I'm twenty seven." She managed with a blush. She awaited the inevitable protest of disbelief.
The women never looked at one another. "I wish that I'd had your skin when I was twenty-seven," Ar'resh exclaimed enviously. "It's so..."
"...perfect, you must spend hours working on it every day," Rexa nodded.
"And your hair is absolutely gorgeous; you must get lots of compliments on it."
In spite of herself Rebecca blushed. Her smattering of freckles were in fact a source of annoyance to her, and as far as her daily beauty regimen went, it merely consisted of a quick shower and a wet washcloth behind the ears. (Momma Ernst was particular about clean ears.)
As for compliments on her looks, she had to her knowledge never received a single one. Heck, she'd never ever been invited out on a date before even.
Her brain interrupted that thought to point out that she had in fact been proposed to once a year and a half ago by Lysander, and that at least ought to count for something.
Her ego argued back however that Lysander was a noodle-head and thus was an unreliable source for compliments.
~~~Besides,~~ she sniffed softly, ~~~Even HE never invited me to so much as a simple dinner-date.~~~
In spite of all these mental calculations, all Rebecca could manage aloud was, "My. hair? Oh... Well... Its red you know..."
~~~Brilliant Einstein. What the heck is that supposed to mean?~~~
Fortunately the azure sisters ignored her silly comments.
Rexa looked around. "Are you waiting for someone? Is there a problem? We'd be glad to help you out if..."
"...you're in some sort of trouble," Ar'resh nodded. "Our nephew Heinrich will be along in just a minute, and I just know..."
"...he'll insist on helping out too. He's very nice that way."
"I'm not in trouble... n. not really." Rebecca shrugged peering up at the pretty women. ~~~Nerts! Even the Blue Alien Women look more like real girls than I do.~~~she fretted with jealousy. "I'm with... uh... well the Galaxy." She made an awkward gesture pointing towards the sky, although she wasn't quite sure in which direction the ship lay. "I'm... I'm a human you know," she sputtered inanely then blushed again realizing what a silly statement that sounded like.
~~~Way to go peanut-head. You're on a roll today.~~~
"Really?" Ar'resh's smile widened.
"So is our nephew, Heinrich. Do you..."
"...know him?" Rexa looked around. "Where is that boy? I told him where I left my purse." She turned back. "Now don't worry, Rebecca, once he gets back..."
"...we'll help you get things all sorted out, no matter what your problem is," Ar'resh assured her with a friendly squeeze of her hand. "He's very good..."
"...at solving problems, our Heinrich is," her sister agreed. With us helping you, we'll have everything straightened out in no time."
~~~Actually, I'm second in command of the United Federations' newest Battleship, and I'm on the surface conducting an investigation into a mysterious violation of bridge security that could have serious ramifications for the entire fleet....~~~
That's what Rebecca wanted to say anyhow. Instead it came out as sort of a muffled squeak. "Uh... sure... whatever... .I'm trying to locate a... uh... Doctor that might help me with a problem I'm having."
"A problem that calls for a Doctor?" Rexa tsked in sudden concern, exchanging a glance with her sister "Oh. Oh, you poor dear, we understand how confusing..."
"...it can be for a young girl in your delicate condition." Ar'resh nodded in total sympathy. "What is it with men these days leaving poor sweet girls alone to deal with an unexpected child?"
"That's why it's essential to take proper precautions." Rexa continued, "Just like we tell our..."
"...Heinrich." Ar'resh beamed. "Always ensure proper protection is on hand before sleeping with someone, lest accidents happen. Of course our silly prattling is doing nothing to help your present circumstances," she added with a sigh.
"Don't worry dear," Rexa patted Rebecca's hand reassuringly. "We'll have our Heinrich."
"...track down a discrete clinic for you."
Being the socially clueless person that she was, Rebecca did not quite catch on to the women's innuendoes. She was not sure how a clinic would help locate Dr. Quick so he could help with the internal sensor problems, but maybe this Heinrich character could help.
"I... uh... guess so." She mumbled. "I... I haven't even figured out who it was who did this." She said referring to the fact the Desk Thieves were still unidentified. The double looks of concern on the Andorians face seemed to convey they understood completely.
"Well sometimes it is hard to keep track..." one said.
"Especially in our younger days, remember Ar'resh?" the other added with a wistful sigh.
"Yeah... well... I think it was two guys working together." Rebecca frowned. "I'm not sure really, but that's what the video showed afterwards."
"The VIDEO!!??!" a shocked exclamation from both women together.
Rebecca shrugged. The Security video of the Theft had been fuzzy, but there did seem to be two perpetrators. "I believe so. Maybe. I wasn't paying too much attention at the time though, because I don't think I saw either ones face."
"Oh dear." Ar'resh's eyes widened.
"Don't worry, Rebecca," Rexa assured her. "It's no trouble at all. We girls have."
".to stick together. If we stood by and let something like this happen to you without helping."
".then we'd be without honor." Rexa's voice was firm and determined.
Ar'resh reached out and hugged Rebecca in a comforting, motherly/sisterly way. "You don't have to deal with this alone, dear, I promise. We'll help you."
****
Victor stepped back out into the street, straightening his jacket. ~ I do not believe that. I don't. First the waiter tries to claim the purse was never there, then, when the owner pats him down, he tries to claim it just 'fell' under his jacket. ~ He shook his head. ~ I haven't seen anything that clumsy in years. ~
Reaching the street, he stopped and looked around. ~ Okay, where are they? Please don't tell me that. ~ He turned, searching the crowds still filling the streets. ~No, there they are. ~ He relaxed, the visions of a repeat of the Ferengi slave market kidnapper incident on Sextus Prime fading from his head. ~ They 're just talking to someone - looks like a girl. ~ He started towards them, relieved. ~ Okay, nothing terrible then. How much trouble can one little girl be?~
****
"Oh, there he is," Rexa sighed in relief. She smiled at Rebecca, her eyes still holding their mix of anger and sympathy. "Our Heinrich is coming now."
Ar'resh smiled and squeezed her hand again. "We'll get all of this taken care of," she promised.
>From down the street, a tall, dark-haired human man in an all-black formal outfit approached, carrying a white woman's purse in his left hand, the crowd parting around him so that there was always a circle of empty space about as wide as Rebecca was tall surrounding him as he walked.
He stopped next to Rexa and offered her the purse. "Sorry that took so long. The waiter took it. Had to get the manager to pat him down to get it back. I checked, and everything's still there."
"Thank you, dear one," Rexa smiled, taking it. "He's such a good boy," she told Rebecca.
"Who's your friend?" Victor asked with a pleasant smile, abruptly realizing that Rebecca wasn't recoiling from him. ~ She's not scared of me. ~ His smile turned to one of mixed relief and greeting. ~ Pretty girl - she's going to be a heartbreaker when she gets a little. ~ His eyes narrowed as he looked at Rebecca, a sudden feeling of horror sweeping over him. ~ Wait. she 's not in uniform, but isn't that. ~
"This our friend, Rebecca," Ar'resh started. "She's in trouble."
". and we told her that the three of us would straighten everything out for her."
~ .Commander von Ernst? ~ Victor's stomach went into free fall.
"She's looking for a good clinic," Rexa began.
"A clinic?" Victor asked, dreading the answer.
Ar'resh sighed. "The poor girl was exploring her sexual boundaries."
".with a pair of men."
".at the same time, but things got out of hand."
".and she forgot."
".to use protection at the appropriate time."
".like we always advise you to do."
".and she's afraid that she might become pregnant by."
".one of the men.. We've got to make certain that."
".she's not going to become pregnant, so that's why we."
".need the clinic, since she was so swept away by passion that."
".she doesn't remember the names or faces."
".of either of the men, and can't ask them for help."
"She's. two. clinic?" Victor tried reconciling what he knew about the Commander with the story. "She doesn't know who they were?" he finally got out.
"No," Rexa sighed. "She tried checking the video they made of their."
"encounter, but the faces weren't in focus," Ar'resh sighed.
"W.w. w.what!?! " Rebecca squeaked in utter confusion. "I d. .d...d...did what with who and h. . . how?"
"There's nothing to worry about, dear," Ar'resh said comfortingly. "Denial is a normal part of this process. You shouldn't be ashamed of your desires, it's."
".not healthy to suppress your sexual urges. If two men at once is what it takes to."
".satisfy you, then you should just do what you did and find two amenable partners. Just remember."
".to use protection next time," Rexa nodded.
Rebecca hardly believed it was possible to shake her head in denial so quickly. "I NEVER s... s-said that!" she gasped, the color burning her cheeks in shame. "I. I. I'm looking for someone to help fix the ship's internal s..s..s..sensors."
"Sensors?" Ar'resh looked at her sister.
"Ship?"
"The Galaxy," Victor explained, still trying to sort things out in his head. ~ Commander von Ernst and two.? ~ "This is Commander von Ernst, my XO. Err... one of my XO's," he corrected.
"Oh, well, "Ar'resh sighed, "that's much easier to help out with. But," she added with a smile, "you really should."
".be more careful when selecting partners. I understand that passion can make you agree."
".to things you wouldn't ordinarily do, but you should always use protection, just in case."
"I've never, never EVER done ANYTHING!" Rebecca insisted shrilly, stamping her foot to emphasize the point. "Never!!"
"Never?" Ar'resh's eyes widened. "Oh you poor dear!"
Rexa looked at Victor, in shock. "She's never.? Not even."
~ I wonder if I can slip away and pretend this never happened? ~ Victor eyed his aunts and Rebecca. ~ No, I can't leave her here alone with them. God only knows what'll happen if I do. ~
".once?" Ar'resh was dumbfounded. "Oh you poor thing!"
"There are those two twin Deltan masseurs," Rexa proposed. "We could see if they would agree to help Rebecca out.."
".with her problem, Yes, I'm sure they would!" Ar'resh nodded. "They'd be perfect, especially considering."
".Rebecca's fantasies about two men." Rexa smiled at Rebecca. "Don't worry dear, we'll."
".take care of everything."
Rebecca glanced at the young man standing beside the two Andorians. In a flash her mental review of the ship's crew brought his face to the forefront of her mind... Victor HEINRICH Krieghoff!!
~~~Great googly-Moogly!!~~~ she realized with horror. ~~~The whole ship is gonna think that I. . .that I. . .~~~
"Oooooo" A small moan escaped the young girls lips as her brown eyes rolled back into her skull, and she fainted dead away in the middle of the street with a soft 'plop'
* * * * * * * * *
"Follow that Vehicle and smash it into dust! Crush them under our bootheels! Suck the honor and marrow from their cracked bones!" bellowed the Klingon General at Lysander, pointing from his Command Seat with an imperious finger at the Federation Vehicle.
"You gave it to them!" repeated Lysander, glaring at Log.
"No." Log grunted.
"Yes you DID! you HAD it and then...'Yoicks!' they have it!" Lys ranted.
"Corgan took it." Log grunted.
"That SMEGGER! He stole my robot! He stole my Princess! And you just GAVE him the egg? It was in your hands and...." Lsyander ranted. He was ignored as usual.
"You say "Indian Giver' and we're gonna have issues." Log promised with a glare. It was the longest phrase Lysander had heard from him.
"But..." Lysander eyed the size of the Indian, who seemed to loom out of his seat at him.
"I hate that joke." Log growled.
"Smeggers! they took our egg!" growled the lanky Alpha Centaurian, wrestling with the steering of the KR-3400. true to Klingon design philosophy, the engines were outsized and the armour was heaped on the vehicle. "Make it bigger, then stronger, then bigger again. And then worry about making it move." was the Klingon Combat Engineers motto, seemingly. The hovercraft moved like a racehorse from the raw power at its disposal, but steered like a cow from its top-heavy bulk. The engines were six times more powerful than they needed to be and the noise was deafening inside the cockpit. Although Klingons never really whisper, so bellowing over the din was par for the course. Of course, it bristled with weapons systems also.
In front of them, the Federation ARGOS vehicle was trunding away at a breakneck rate of speed on its oversized tires. Behind the ARGOS, an enormous jukKa bird flapped it's mighty wings, sunlight glinting off the smei-metallic scales that covered the beast. Again, the double bills of the bird opened and its mighty scream rumbled of the two throats out at the interloping vehicle that had stolen its offspring.
"That Bird." Log grated in his gravelly voice.
"Yes?" asked the General, still admiring the bird himself.
"Which of the two heads do you steer with?" growled Major Log, eyes locked on the bird.
"Smeggers!" Lysander growled again.
"You don't. You sit on the back in a sort of pagoda and shoot, and your Flyers beat it over the heads from another level of the pagoda; until it's flying where you want it to. And you hope they remembered to feed it, so it doesn't get ideas about eating the pagoda it's carrying on its back." the General replied, slightly more calm.
Log grunted noncommitally.
"They're mean, but if you tame them right from the egg, you can ride them. Until they get too big for the pagodas, then they must be killed." the general added.
Grunt.
"When I was a boy, the lan'Jepi jukKa riders were something to see." reminisced the Klingon General.
"I bet." was the Grunt.
"They did arial trick shooting and infantry drops. there was a circus too..."
"Would have liked to try to ride it." was Log's reply, cutting off the General's memories.
"I know where there is a pagoda...maybe some of the old wranglers still work at the Dude Ranch..." the General offered.
"Bareback." Log added.
The General's mouth dropped open.
"Just me." Log added again, eyes still on the bird.
The Klingon turned admiring eyes on the stoic Indian.
Log just shrugged and kept watching the mighty bird with obsidian eyes.
The com screen sputtered to life near Lys' elbow. A Klingon Under-Officer saluted the General.
"Coordinates for the second object!" the Klingon barked, as the data flashed up on their screens. The General grunted and nodded, and the Under Officer disappeared.
Lysander eyed the data, and then did a double take
"Ohhhhhhh ssssmmmeeeeggggg..." he whined, as the memories of his last visit to lan'Jep flooded back.
* * * * * * * * * *
"A TARRGOTH SCALE?" Bellowed Bhrode from the gunnery platform of the ARGOS.
"Correct sir!" Lexa brought up the Targgoth on the computer display, a hideous, ugly, unsightly creature that looked to be a crossbreed of a six legged lizard and a riding horse. It was the cousin of the original Targ, except larger, uglier, and stronger. "One targgoth scale. Under the neck, or neck, or whatever that part is there...or we risk disqualification."
"You mean a damn dirty TARRGOTH?" Bhrode bellowed again. The Klingon communications philosophy was something Bhrode had taken to heart apparently.
"The very same, sir." Lexa replied to confirm.
"I hate Tarrgoths..." Bhrode muttered over the comlink.
Outside the ARGOS, the downdraft from each stroke from the wings of the enormous bird made the windstorm around the viewports dance. Lexa squinted and peered out her porthole and tried to puff the lock of hair out of her face again. Her beauty made James' heart clench.
"Lysand....Commander Hawksley had told me about the time he wrestled a Targgoth." Lexa mused, her clear eyes locked on the view ahead and avoiding James.
"Oh please, not more about that pr*ck." James groaned.
"James! He's not a pr*ck! He's a very nice guy when you get to know him! Sort of sexy. . .he's done a lot!" Lexa responded hotly.
"Yeah... and I bet he's a good kisser too." James muttered sarcastically.
"Actually... he isn't all -that! I'd expected..." She confessed.
"YOU MEAN YOU ACTUALLY KISSED HIM!?!?!?!" James blew up, losing what little cool he had left.
"Welll...." Lexa stammered, "Yes... I sort of ... did. After dinner... But he kept trying to force his tongue down my..."
JUST as James was throwing his head back to scream out at a cold and uncaring Universe.... he was interrupted.
"Shoo! Get oudda here!" Bhrode yelled at the Bird, which took no notice. At his feet, the metallic-ceramic surface of the egg was lashed to the deck. "Corgan! Stop that ticking noise!" Bhrode commanded.
"Right..." James looked around, couldn't see the source of the tickning noise, and decided to ignore everything but the mission at hand. SCrew Bhrode, Screw his ticking noise, and screw Lysander. "Still gotta find that Targgoth scale!" Okay, back to Lysander...." And Lex, you let him kiss you?!? How could you? Him, of all people? I don't care how terrible it was, you should never kiss an @$$hole!"
"He's not so bad... and if I follow that advice... I shouldn't kiss you?" Lexa jested.
Sarcastically, James replied, "Oh... very funny!"
"Relax James. I know you want to protect me... but Lysander is harmless... absolutely harmless! He won't get anywhere with me if he keeps slobbering on me like...."
******************
=/\="...that! Besides, he doesn't even pick up the bill at the restaurant like a civilized person."=/\= Crackled Lexa's voice over the Klingon's advanced signal, sound and voice interception array (ASS-VIA),relayed from in front of a crowd of amused Klingons to the KR-3400 =/\="I thought he'd make me pay for it, that lousy cheat. I think we just LEFT! Oh well... I suppose if I invited him to dinner...=/\=
"What? I smegging well OWN the resturaunt! Or some company I own does...either way.. I just have to sign for it!" Lysander ranted.
"Do they serve ghak?" Inquired the General.
"No. It's more of a Terran French-Theridian 'fusion' cuisine..." lysander nattered.
"I like ghak." Log growled.
"Me too." enthused the General.
=/\="Hey, at least I try to pick up the bill myself. And I don't try to force tongue down your throat unless you want it."=/\= James retorted back, =/\="And Lysander is still a better choice than... me?=/\=
"Yes." three voices in the KR-3400 cab answered him.
"Even Streeley would be." grunted one of them.
=/\="I didn't say that!" Lexa replied hotly, "I thought he might be nice... and sometimes he is... but he... I hate how he acts! So foolish! He's not that dumb. NO one is THAT dumb! And he wouldn't stop looking at me when I wore that dress! You know the one, the black dress you gave me.=/\=
"It was a smegging sexy dress." Lysander admittted.
"Did you want to bite her?" asked the General.
"Oh, rather!" admitted Lys.
"You do act dumb." grunted Log.
"errrr...." Lysander mumbled.
=/\="You let him see you in that!?! Damn, Lex! I still have dreams about you in that dress! Now he's going to... dammit!"=/\=
=/\=He couldn't stop looking at my cleavage! I hated that!=/\=
"Is her cleavage bitable?" queried the General.
"Very!" was the response from Log and Lys.
"You realize it is very dishonorable to stare at a potential mate's cleavage." The General stared daggers into Lysander.
=/\="Well... he is human!"=/\=
=/\="At least you showed some restraint."=/\=
=/\="Why thank you...anyways.. it was only dinner... and then after...=/\=
SPRRRAAAKKKKKKKKGGGLOOOPRRRRRRRPPPP!
+Your Generalship! We have lost the signal. The spy satellites range has been exceeded.+ the snickering Klingons on the com reported.
"You humans have odd courtship rituals. You should have bit her, to show your interest." The GEneral commented.
"I bit her! She was about to admit it!" Lys protested.
*****************
"But i'm still mad at you for Rebecca!" Lexa stated proudly, "I don't trust you with her!"
"Lex, we're not a couple anymore. Why do you care about it now?" James asked.
"Whoever is making that ticking noise, STOP it!" ordered Bhrode from the Gunnery platform.
"Aye Sir. I want to know... if you had a crush on her... or any women... while we were together." Lexa asked.
"Ummm... NO!" James replied, "I never! You were the only one for me until we decided it was time to quit! Watch out!" James pointed at the rock outcropping that loomed into view.
"Ok... fine." Lexa swerved around the rocks with a wrench of the wheel that showed she didn't believe a word he said.
"Do you believe me?"
"Yes I do." she replied through gritted teeth. In a VERY cold tone.
Somehow, James wasn't satisfied with a half sarcastic answer. "And... oh... sh*t on me."
James warily watched the big jukKa bird swoop overhead. It made a ear piercing screech that could have peeled the designation numbers off the Galaxy's hull, then swooped towards the Argos at a speed faster than the vehicle could travel.
"Ummm... sir? I think that's the momma bird over there!" James warned as the bird came closer.
"Of course it is!" Bhrode snapped. "Be glad it's not the mothers of all these women you keep seducing, Corgan! There'd be a swarm of them out here, all shrieking for our blood."
"A horde of mothers?" Lexa arched one eyebrow and avoided James' eyes again.
"Well... you see sir... GET DOWN!!!!!!" James yelled out a warning. The gigantic, two headed jukKa bird dive bombed at the ARGOS, its scything talons raking across the duranium roof of the ATV and missing the crewman's heads by mere centimeters. James finished, "Enough said!"
"That is IT! Override the silly half power rules. I'm going to blast that thing into tiny flaming cinders that used to be ugly assed scales..." Bhrode swore, reaching for the Dorsal Quad Mount Weapons controls, and swinging the transparent aluminum cuploa around, to sight the weapon mount at the bird, circling for another swoop.
"SIR! DON'T!" Corgan waved his arms in terror, "Lanjepi conservation laws! We kill the bird, the Klingons kill us! No exceptions! We have to stun it, and even then we have to make sure the bird doesn't crash land and hurt itself... or... the Klingons kill us."
"Kill them too..." Bhrode was growling, as the weapons mount controls came to life.
"AAACCCKKKK!!!!!" Lexa screamed. She veered the Argos to the right, taking her own evasive maneovers to avoid the jukKa bird's beaks from pecking the tires. The Argos stirred from side the side, the egg bumping noisily around Bhrode's feet, nobody able to get their balance straight. Strangely, the jukKa bird was flying in front of the ARGOS and assaulting it at the same time, "I didn't know... it could FLOAT LIKE A HUMMINGBIRD! Stop it now!"
"We paste it here and the ARGOS will turn it to street meat! We'll run over it" James snapped.
"You don't get rid of it, and i'll crash this thing into a tree... or something!" She stuttered angrily, "Just like you... James! Always trying to tell me what I should do!"
"You too?' Bhrode growled around the stub of his cigar.
"Not like it works either. Didn't I tell you Lysander is bad news? And what do you do?" James retorted.
"Shut up about that! I thought that discussion was over! SOmeone get that Bird!" Lexa yelled.
"Then at least hear me out once in awhile!"
"Ohhh!!!! You're impossible!"
"Likewise!"
"I... ooohhhh! Fine! What do I do?" Lexa caved, nearly begging for an answer.
"Move from side to side. Watch the birdie. Move as the bird attacks. Kinda like shuttle piloting." James advised.
"Not the Bird! about YOU! That's it!" Lexa yelled out in frustration, "The bird is going to... Aaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!"
The jukKa bird, with one powerful thrust of its beak, bashed the ARGOS' front windshield. The reinforced dura-plastic window spiderwebbed at the impact point, left of Lexa's head. Then, the second head whipped out and attacked the window, cracking passenger side windshield, aiming dangerously towards James' chest. The bird hideously howled and flew upwards to assault the vehicle's rear.
"Stings like a bee, too. Fine. Half power loads." Bhrode growled
"Sir! About that stunning blast, is it ready!?!?!" James yelled to the back.
*Tick* even James heard the noise this time.
"Takes time to pre-ignite the phaser cycle. You wanna come up here and tell me about it all Corgan? And stop that damned NOISE, will you?! " queried Bhrode with a scowl.
"Ensign Irwin advised me on animal captures. For birds, we should wait until they are low to the ground. When the bird comes to the level of the ARGOS, that should be the best time to fire!" James suggested.
"Screw him." Bhrode eyed the firing computer and depressed the stud for the phasers on the handles. The Bird was hit square on, and plummeted several meters to the ground.
*Tick*
"What the hell?" James remarked, hearing the scratching, ticking sound that Brhode complained about earlier. He heard another 'tick', then tuned his ears towards the direction of the sound. The 'ticking' was louder, more frequent, and he was getting closer. He climbed into the back of the ARGOS. It was coming from somewhere near the egg.
" Gotcha. Whatever the hell you are doing to make that noise, STOP it!" Bhrode snarled.
Correction, it was the egg! The silouette of a bird like creature was appearant as James shone the battle armor's flashlight on the hard, rainbowlike shell. The silouette's beak made controlled pecks at the shell. Its beak thrust forth, and hit the shell with a tiny 'tick'.
That blow showed the first crack in the egg's armored defences.
"Oh... sh*t!" Corgan screamed, "The motherf**king egg is HATCHING!"
"If it's female, dont' try and date it." Bhrode advised.
Lexa sniggered from the control cabin.
Behind them, the juKka Bird shook its double heads, and clawed at the ground with its razored talons. It shook the dust off its scaley hide and started sprinting after the ARGOS.
* * * * * * * * *
". . . and then the smeggers let loose some worms. IN the mud bath." Lysanader was nattering to the General. Through the open hatch, the smells and noises of the lan'Jepi wildnernes wafted into the KR-3400.
"Yes. taRn Worms. It is traditional. Although the spas are usually for women. And Wounded Warriors. My wives claim these here on lan'Jep are...suitable for offworlders." The General observed.
"Well.. smeg me, but they could warn a chappie. On my homeworld, we just soak in the mud. Not wrestle smegging poisonous worms." Lysander groused.
"How quaint." the General mused, stifling a yawn.
A bellow sounded through the open hatch of the KR-3400. An answering, sharp shout matched it. The bellow was repeated, louder.
The Generals nose wrinkled. "Tarrgoths!" he muttered in disgust.
Lysander shuddered again.
"Did I tell you about the Tarrg..." Lysander began again.
"Yes. Twice this week." the General cut the story off curtly.
The open ramp at the back of the hovercraft jiggled and shuddered and groaned. A sliding rasping noise intruded on the aural landscape.
A stench flooded the cabins of the KR-3400.
"[gack] Just the SCALE from under the chin!" gagged Lysander.
There was a pause, and then a wet, sucking, ripping sound from outside the idling craft's ramp. The ramp juggled again, under a heavy weight. Since it was designed to hold upwards of ten or so battle armoured Klingon Marines, the weight on it must have been enormous. The scraping noise was repeated. The ramp jiggled. The stench lessened.
"I hate Tarrgoths. My uncles used to come to a dude ranch here on lan'Jep and make me ride them, before my Naming." mused the General.
The scale flew into the cabin, easily the size of a coffee saucer, and hit the floor. It was oozing green ichor from one end.
Laughing Horse Log, encased in massive BattleArmour followed the scale up the ramp.
"You didn't kill it, did you? Wild Tarrgoths are..." the General began.
"No." Grunted the Indian.
"Pity." gagged Lysander, memories of a Tarrgoth Pup and several gallons of hiKklo fish oil still vivid in his mind after a year.
". . .endangered. The penalty for killing one is death." continued the General.
"I did't kill it." Log grunted.
"I wrestled a baby one. Once. Although it was tamed." Lysander offered.
Log grunted. It could have meant anything. MOST people took it to mean 'Shut up or suffer' but not Lysander.
"It was oiled." Lys added.
Grunt.
"So was I."
Grunt.
"Stinky smeggers."
Grunt. Grunt.
"How did you subdue it? The Tarrgoth wranglers usually flip them..." the General asked, interested.
"I flipped it. Mine. At the spa. It was a baby. And oiled." Lys interrupted.
"Didn't flip it." Log grunted.
"Hard to flip anything standing on six legs." Lysander observed.
"Didn't flip it." Log repeated.
"How did you get to the chin?" pressed the General.
Log grunted and flexed his massive shoulders. His head rolled on his mighty neck, the thick ropy muscles gleaming under the coppery skin.
"Just did" he grunted.
"I flipped mine. Then tickled its belly. Of course, I was just wrestling it, not taking it's chin scale." Lys offered.
"Didn't flip. Didn't tickle." Log grunted.
The ramp was closed and the whine of the anti-Grav engines pre-ignition filled the cabin.
"HOW DID YOU GET THE SCALE THEN?" Bellowed the General over the din.
"I punched it." Growled Log.
"WHAT?" Bellowed the General.
"Punched it. Unconscious." added Log after a split moment.
The General eyed Log's massive arms and grinned.
"Just the once?" he pressed.
"No. Had to hit it twice." replied Log, nudging the scale with the toe of his boots and scowling.
"Two punches..." admired the General.
"And the kick to the balls." added Log.
"You kicked a wild tarrgoth in the balls?" goggled the General.
"It was asleep." grunted Log.
"WHAT?" screamed Lysander over the Engine noise.
Grunt.
"Why did you wake it up?" demanded the General.
"Had to. To punch it." muttered Log darkly.
"Why were you dragging it into here?" pressed the General.
Log shrugged.
"You didn't kill it?" demanded the General.
"Not me." Log promised with a grunt, before closing his eyes and feigning sleep.
"But you didn't kill it, why bring it in here." pressed the General.
"Dunno." Log squinted through one eye, before closing it again.
"You didn't kill the Tarrgoth?" demanded the General.
"Not me." Log repeated.
"Because the scanners show it dead." pressed the General, pointing at the readout.
"Must be broken." Log grunted.
"You SURE you didn't kill it?"
"Yep. Kicked it. Punched it. Punched it again. That's all." Log grunted.
"It's not moving...and here come the ARGOS people..." Lysander nattered, watching the back scanners.
"Maybe the fall off that cliff killed it, though." Log mused, in a grunt.
"Cliff?" two voices asked Log, in unison.
"It fell off that cliff after I punched it." Log replied, looking shifty.
"The second time?"
"The first punch.It fell. It was trying to get up, so I punched it again. Then dragged it back here." Log answered.
"So it might be dead?"
Grunt.
"But.." the General began again.
"My people try to live in harmony with nature everywhere. To live as one with it and all other creatures. To respect all life as Brothers under the Great Suns. And it was a little cliff." answered Log, avoiding the question.
"That is nuts! You don't respect Raven!" Lysander exploded.
"Who?" scowled Log.
"Raven Darkstar? Your Brother?"
"I have no brother but those in Nature. Especially not Raven. It is a Manitoc tribe thing. You'd never understand. We respect our Brothers."
"By walking up to them, kicking them in the balls and then punching them out over a cliff?" quipped Lysander, shouting over the engine.
"Yes. Some brothers stink." replied Log levelly, closing his eyes again.
"Like Raven." he added moments later.
No one really had anything to say after that.
******************
=/\=Third objective!=/\= Boomed a Klingon officer's voice.
The crew of the ARGOS let out a collective groan. The jukKa bird's assault, and the tense moments watching the jukKa egg roll and crackle around in the ARGOS's floor, sapped the time they needed to find a wild Targgoth, much less take its scale and win the race.
It was down to this. A tiebreaker, a final obstacle that needed to be handled, lest the loser wanted to walk to the capital for the rest of the night (and most likely the next day). James was starting to feel the pressure, his confidence now hanging by a razor's edge. Lexa, always the worrier, was still holding onto the ARGOS' steering wheel in a death's grip.
Bhrode was at the Assault Ramp at the back, as it closed, watching the baby juKka bird sprint towards its mother. A rent and bleeding gash on his leg showed where the newly hatched bird had tried to nurse.
Bhrode eyed the other two and smiled.
"At least we got the first thing. They said 'egg' not 'baby' " Bhrode crowed. "This is getting fun!"
"Copy that, Objective leader. What do... we collect?" Lexa called.
----------------------
"Great leaders are almost always great simplifiers, who can cut through the argument, debate and doubt and offer a solution that everybody can understand." - Colin Powell.
-----------------------
"I grow weary of looking at that mudball." Captain Brhode uttered with disgust, from where he slumped in the captain's chair, his steely eyes locked upon the viewscreen before him.
His fingertips made a rythmic tapping sound against the armrest as he studied the glittering blue, green planet of Ianjep. The intensity of his "thousand yard stare" so severe, one would think he was expecting a full armada of Birds of Prey to decloak before him, weapons bristling.
Then suddenly, without warning Brhode stood up, hands clasped behind his back.
Painfully slow, those eyes that had onced been rivited to the image of the Klingon resort world Ianjep, began to survey the bridge. The officers manning thier station's held thier breaths, some even muttering prayers to thier dieties of choice as the old man's hawk-like gaze finally rested upn a freshly scrubbed Ensign at the tactical arch.
"You. Name." he ordered.
"W..W..Wil W..Wheaton, sir." the terrified youth stammered.
Brhode closed in, staring intently at the young man.
"You look like that snot nosed Crusher boy."
"T..that's what some people say, sir." he said doing his best not to urinate himself in fear. Something deep inside his brain told him the fastest way to the fabled frozen tundra of the Breen outpost would be by taking a leak upon the tactical arch.
Brhode continued to scowl.
"You chose tactical. Why is that? You looking for command of your own starship someday? Perhaps dreaming of rising through the ranks and one day sitting in my chair? Captain Wheaton, USS Galaxy. You like the way that sounds?" he asked relentlessly.
The Ensign paled. tiny little beads of sweat built up along his forehead and it took a herculean effort to keep himself from reaching up and wiping them away.
"Y..yes..I mean No..I mean..Not just yet.."
Brhode raised an eyebrow in such perfect manner that a Vulcan would be proud. "Yes? No? Maybe someday when I keel over dead? Ensign...one thing has suddenly become crystal clear to me...."
Ensign Wheaton closed his eyes and couldnt help but notice his life begining to pass by.
"It has become clear to me that you despratly need a lesson or two in command. Ding, ding. School is now in session." Brhode said crossing his arms across his chest. "Now pay attention...you are the Captain of the Federation's flagship. the grand lady of the fleet herself. Now you are moored on some Klingon run cesspool while your crew, on shore leave, swims around in all unspoken manner of Klingon depravity."
The Captain walked up the short ramp, untill he stood toe to to with the petrified Ensign."There is a whole universe out there in need of protecting and exploring and instead of spear headding that effort, your hull is collecting space dust. What do you do?"
"..I..I'm not..sir..I" Wheaton began before the gray haired Captain barked.
"SOUND OF, SON! THE FATE OF THE FREE UNIVERSE RESTS ON YOUR DESCISION! NOW MAN UP AND GIVE AN ORDER!!"
"I..I'd recall the crew to duty a..and set off again. Sir."
Brhode just stared at the boy.
A long uncomfortable silence hung thickly in the air. Nervousness made officer's skins crawl. Finally the old man cracked what appeared to be a smirk.
"YOU HEARD THE MAN!! OPEN A CHANNEL AND TELL EVERYONE PLANET SIDE THAT THE TRAIN PULLS AWAY IN ONE HOUR!! IF THEY ARE NOT ONBOARD, THEY'RE WALKING!"
A chous of 'aye sir' rang out as the bridge crew snapped into action. Captain Brhode turned to Ensign Wheaton.
"You made the right choice. Congratulations. Now get to work."
The young man nodded rapidly as brhode plopped back down in the Captain's chair, waiting for his ship to fill up again and set sail. Without even taking his attention off the screen, Brhode called out again.
"Captain Wheaton..you may breath now."
NRPG: OK, Kids! Move it or loose it. The order has officially gone out to get your butts back upon the ship. We set sail with my next post in approximatly 2 days so go ahead and wrapup those Ianjep story arcs and JPs.
Brianna was the last one off the runabout, opening her eyes she took a deep breath and looked down at her dog, Peckerwood. Who was sitting at her feet, proudly.
"Feels different being on a large ship, doesn't?" She said then knelt down and placed his leash on the color and then stepped off the transporter pad with the black Scottish Terrier following long behind her, wiggling his snipped tail. The red haired lass nodded to the transporter chief and then ventured out into the corridor. Stepping up to the wall unit she tapped her assignment order and asked for location of her quarters.
Smiling, she looked down at her dog. "Come on, Peckerwood, lets go find our new house." She said then started walking toward her quarters. Reaching a turbolift junction, she reached out and pressed the call button and waited. As she waited for it she nodded and acknowledged them as they passed. Once the doors opened she stepped inside and called out for her deck.
As the lift took off, Brianna knelt down and took the leash off of Packerwood and watched him prance around the turbolift proudly.
"Peter's right, you are a blue blood dog." She said grinning. Suddenly the doors opened and Packerwood bolted down the corridor. Brianna looked up and saw her small dog running hard down the corridor, standing up she took off after it.
"Peckerwood!! Stop!" "Peckerwood, I said stop damn it! You better run cause when I get you I gonna tear up that arse of your!!" Brianna said as she ran down the corridor after him.
As he listened to his father discuss what had been happening. Apparantly some of the other families had begun causing trouble within the council and he would need to go back to Zarahustra and deal with this mess.
When his combadge sounded. "Galaxy to all hands, Report back, to the vessel, general recall."
Charlamagne nodded, "As understood son, you must go."
"Yes father, keep me informed of how this develops, send word to the Galaxy."
"I will."
Rising up he bowed to his father, "Untill I hear from you I will serve..."
Then he left the ship for the Galaxy.
As he walked back on board his mind began to play out certian scenarios. How could he be affected, and how could he come out on top, would it involve betraying his father. Hopefully not but if he must to survive....
Then something slammed in to his leg. Looking down he saw a small dog that had slammed in to his highly polished boot. Reaching down he picked it up.
"Creature, running around Federation starships can be hazardious to your health." Staring at the creature he then said, "Now where is your owner ?"
Jack grunted as he hefted his belongings off the cold, grey floor of one of the Galaxy's docking bays. Techs immediately began buzzing around his loaned shuttlecraft probably to get it back up to specs before sending it back to Starfleet on autopilot. All he owned was slung over his shoulder in the form of a large, military grey duffel bag. The bag jutted out unevenly in places as right-angled belongings intermixed with clothing and uniforms. Before leaving the bay he glanced over his appearance in his reflection. They sure kept these consoles glossy. Captain must be quite the hardass. Good. Jack was pleasantly surprised that he managed to have on a halfway decent looking uniform. And hell, he even shaved.
Jack had scheduled appointments with all of the appropriate people... the list seemed to go on and on... the Captain, Sick Bay, some fool counselor or another, Major Log. Hopefully all of these meetings wouldn't disrupt his ability to get some peace and quiet down on lanJep. Or, at least, war and quiet. Of course, luck being what it is to Jack, no one was quite ready to seem him yet. In fact, when questioning the computer (which seemed to have about twice the personality as the average 'fleeter, in Jack's opinion) it became clear that nobody was quite sure were his quarters were at the moment.
A few muttered swear words later and Jack was lugging his stuff down the corridor heading towards the nearest turbolift. The ship had emptied out nicely since arriving at the planet. Hopefully he wouldn't get caught up in some damn fool conversation while trying to get settled in. Unless, of course, it was with someone mildly entertaining. So, basically, a marine. Valhoun began whistling 'The Minstrel Boy' as he walked into the turbolift, pausing only long enough to drop his stuff and bark a command at the computer. The lift began to hum as it shot through the decks. "Wait, wait, wait... Computer, Deck 16," said Jack, correcting himself. Sometimes the old brain fired on all synapses.
"Acknowledged, proceding."
"Finally, some signs of intelligent life," remarked Jack to no one in particular at the sight of the first marine uniform. The marine mess hall among other things was on this level and Jack was sure that he'd be able to get some information and maybe even rack out for an hour or two until the powers that be decided to throw him a bone. As he meandered down the hall he was given some strange looks by passing enlisted. ~Probably think I'm some idiot just out of drydock here to boss them around,~ he thought, smiling to himself, ~Hell, maybe they're right.~
Now, it was Jack's intention to turn towards the entrance to the marine mess and even to enter the marines mess. However, it was almost certainly not his intention to nearly hipcheck a Sergeant Major in the Starfleet Marine Corps. But, that's exactly what he did. It was only through fast reflexes on part of the SGM but also some inventive twisting of his own vertebrae that prevented disaster. Val could have apologized right then but, being himself and a little embarrassed he decided to shrug it off. "Afternoon, Sergeant Major," stated Jack as he threw down his bag onto a nearby table. His eyes did the stereotypical sweep of a woman's figure. He hoped it wasn't too obvious but it probably was. ~Damn, someone... blessed with that much... beauty and also a marine of that rank. She must be hardboiled. Twice.~
For her part, Betty carefully schooled the displeasure off her face, as she eyed the Leftenant. Such was the bane of the NCO's life, a new Junior Officer. Maybe this guy wouldn't get TOO many of her people killed, before he learnt the way the Universe worked.
She stifled the urge to annoy him, as he checked out her figure. Betty had to stifle that urge quite often. Annoying officers was more of a hobby to her. A Marine NCO really didn't have much to do with the Offficers. In the Marines, the Officers Commanded, but the NCO's Worked.
And Betty had earned the right to be an officer several times over. But she wouldn't take it.
~~Temper Temper Betty...~~ she chided herself, in an attempt to remain calm.
"Leftenant." she replied in what she hoped was a cool and calm voice, as she eyed the slopped stew and coffee on her mess tray in disgust. She cast a practiced eye over his bags and quickly deduced two things. The first was that he must be the Platoon Leader Major Log had asked Personnel for and that second was that she was not going to like this guy.
"Hey Gunny! There you are... Just like you told us, me and East field stripped all them plasma...oh... SIR!" the marine stiffened to attention, noticing the insignia on Jack's tunic, as he was in the midst of reporting to Betty.
"Dahlquist. Show this ....gentleman to his quarters." Betty ordered,, dumping her tray into the reclaimator chute with a sigh.
"As you were, marine. I've already checked with the computer and I haven't been assigned so much as a corner of a cargo bay. Shooting through red tape isn't like popping a few Jem'Hadar... takes a few more stripes than you have," replied Jack, pain quickly fading from Dahlquist's expression. That same pain transferred right over to Betty, it seemed as Jack turned his attention to Betty, "But you look like the type of person who doesn't really acknowledge red tape's existence, Gunny."
"Fine. Sir. I'm on it. Stupid OPS... " she snapped, with an edge to her voice that showed she did NOT think it was a good idea. She dropped the tray with a clatter and commandeered the nearest LCARS, tapping furiously on the keys. She found the time to be rolling her eyes at the enlisted Marine, though.
"Scat." she said to the enlisted man, moments later. . The relieved Marine scrambled off, to do whatever he had been about to do. Betty's ramrod straight posture positively reeked of professional pride and indignation.
"They put you under 'Lieutenant Calhoun' Stupid Nerps. Welcome to the 424th FIST. We muster Three infantry platoons plus a recon/HQ platoon. Ground and Air assault support and attached staff. Standard number of Marines per platoon. Major Log is the CO. Sub Major Phoole is the unit XO." she recited in her clear voice, as she stomped through the decks like she owned them. Most of the Marines saw Betty, and got out of her way fast.
"Fine, fine... that was all in my briefing," said Jack, nearly cutting the woman off. The information was standard and nothing very informative. The usual canned speech. "Listen," stated the officer stopping in mid-stride, "I'm Jack Valhoun, and you are?"
Betty's mind whirled under the neatly braided black hair. Her blue eyes searched out Jack and swept him from head to toes again, something unreadable on her face. "I've heard about you." she stated non-commitally, her appraising glance now deeper than it was before. It was on her face that she hadn't heard much good.
"Yes, well..." Jack sighed audibly, the memories of the past few years weren't the most pleasent. "I haven't heard about you, so you have me at a disadvantage."
Betty blinked her blue eyes. While not boastfull, she was pretty sure half the Fleet and ALL the Corps had known about her tete-de-tete with the Field Marshall after they'd pinned the Medal of Honor on her and tried to send her to the Academy.
~~ like I'd go...~~ she mused.
It is not every Sergeant who can call her Supreme Commanding Officer a "egg sucking, ear slittted sonnava buzzard" and demand she NOT be promoted. Except one who'd helped with the ODDESSY survivors and held the 'Last Stand' there without reinforcements, in what had been clearlya suicide mission.
*For Courage Above and Beyond the Call of Duty... At Clear and Present Danger to Life..." The citation had been rife with phrases to that effect. It still made her squirm, remembering the days after they'd pulled her and the remnants of her squad out. She'd rather be back shooting Jem'Hadar than dressed up and in front of the Cameras with Politicians grinning. Too many people had died for her to feel anything but disgust. But at least all those Nerps had made it too.
"I been around." she mumbled, flushing at the thought that this guy didn't know what the mess of rockers on her rank insignea meant.
~~Stupid medal...stupid promotion. I should have found a cave and never volunteered.~~ she mentally cursed for about the Eight Millionth time.
"Master Gunnery Sergeant Major Goldstein. Pleasedtomeetchasir." she mumbled, avoiding his eye. He was sure to eventually remember where he knew her name from. That, or listen to one of his booze soaked friends. Scuttlebutt had conflicting opinions of this guy.
And Betty DID love scuttlebutt.
"Now, Sergeant Major Goldstein, you can give that same half-assed speech to every 'fleeter that walks these corridors and do so with my blessing which, granted, means very little to you. But that really doesn't tell me anything." Jack squinted as he scratched at his jaw, thinking for a moment. "Show me your hands. Come on, come on, just do it. Don't look at me as if you've just caught me in bed with your husband and your pet dog."
Betty's eyes sparked dangerously. A lifetime in the Corps had only sharpened her usually feisty demeanor. Any one of her older brothers would have walked away from the flinty look after looong experience with it. Most of the Marines who'd served with under her also had seen this look before, and they too avoided it when possible. But on duty, she was nothing but professional. At least in sight of an officer.
"As you wish." she said precisely timing the microseconds before adding the "Sir" to her reply, so as to convey maximum un-amusement.
She stretched out her hands. Callouses were a thing of the past for most Federation members due to medical science. Except Federation Starfleet Marines. Betty's hands, while dainty and small, looked hard enough to crack Thoridian IronOak with.
"I don't have a dog.": she admitted, feeling foolish.
Valhoun studied the woman's hands closely as he took them in his. They were small, but muscular with abrasions and callouses earned through years of continuing hard work. They weren't the hands of a desk jockey. Hell, they kinda looked like his. Betty clearly had a direct hand in making sure things got done, not just supervising. Some NCOs rested on their laurels and their sections suffered. Clearly this wasn't the case here. Jack could guess, and did, that the marines were squared away, "Everything here is up to spec or running as efficiently as the situation allows. Any worries or fears I had about the quality of the leadership here were unfounded. The marines here are in good hands."
Betty appraised him again. "That is Major Log's work. He came up in Recon." she added. The phrase "Is Recon" explained to Marines that the appellant was a member of the Famed Recon Units. The Uber-Marine Marines. So Gung Ho they usually had to be kept in cages, according to Fleet Whispers and Scuttlebutt.
At the expression on Valhouns' face, she wondered if he had been Recon himself. He didn't even blink.
"Ah, those reccy bastards. Tough SOBs. Sometimes wired a bit too tight and could use a drink or three to calm down in my opinion, but hell, no one's perfect. Well, at least I'm not... except in certain areas, o'course. Like bed and such."
Betty met his eyes unblinkingly.
~~did he know? I haven't hinted to anyone about the Major... ~~ she mused, studying the man before her.
"I wouldn't know about the Major in bed. Sir." She intoned in her most level voice. "You are the same Jack Valhoun who pissed off the entire Brass of the Third Fleet and Regiment . Aren't you?" she demanded , to change the topic.
"I was actually referring to mys... ah, nevermind." Bad jokes are best left undisturbed.
"As for the other thing, I just did what I had to do. The consequences were beyond my control. And that Admiral's jaw was made of glass. I couldn't foresee every outcome, ya know. I'm no fortune teller." It was just Jack's luck that a simple punch in the face would turn into so much controversy. And blood. But mostly controversy.
For the first time, Betty smiled.
"Any officer who the others hate is okay in my books. Sir. Come on, let's get you squared away and fed." She replied, for the first time losing a bit of the edge she habitually displayed to strangers.
She still couldn't get the idea of a nude Laughing Horse Log, in her bed ; out fo her head however.
"Yes, that's a fine idea." Come to think of it, he hadn't eaten in about 7 hours. And the various fermentations of grains probably didn't count towards a well balanced meal.
She looked down at the slight stain of stew marring her uniform, with a frown. Great. Another drunk. Memories of her father, drunk and ranting in their cramped mining colony quarters flitted through her mind.
Catching the woman's glance, Jack looked down too. Unfortunately, being an idiot, his gaze lingered once again on a certain part of Betty's anatomy. Alright, he looked but it was only because she did first. I mean, it is her fault. That, anyway, was what Jack thought and he made his opinion vocal, "Alright, you did that on purpose, didn't you?"
Betty's eyes met his again, in a gaze that seemed level, despite their difference in heights.
"Did what, Sir?" she deadpanned, knowing he'd never admit he'd been staring at her bust.
Several long moments of silence followed, and Valhoun seemed to look for an answer. He finally shrugged in defeat. ~Men!~ she added mentally.
"May I suggest the Officer's Mess? The Nerps...err... Our Naval Brethren would no doubt like to see what a true Black Sheep looks like." She added teasingly.
~~And you can run into one of them. Kluttzy drunk.~~ she added mentally. To the everpresent 'To DO" list in her mind, she added 'stock up on Kill Joy Pills' just in case the rumours about Valhoun's taste for non-Synthhol beverages ever meant he'd need one of the alcohol suppressant pills.
Jack smiled, "I suppose that even those Navy-types deserve a look a greatness." His tone was clearly self-mocking as he would never seriously say anything of that sort about himself. But, it was fun to get under the skin of the 'fleeters every once and again. Kept them on their toes, afterall.
Betty had to smile at that. She'd gotten into her share of hot water before.. and if you could smile at being scalded... there might be hope for you after all.
"I don't suppose you'd like to punch Admiral DeMarceau or Admiral Hoth for me, would you?" she asked, only half teasing.
Valhoun shrugged, "I can see what I can do. What did they do that deserves my retribution? Aside from being an Admiral, of course." Come to think of it, there weren't too many admirals that Jack didn't want to punch in the face. Or kick in the ribs. Weird how such a large group could contain such a high percentage of semi-retarded, half-evolved monkeys.
"I caught them in bed with my dog. Isn't that enough?" she teased.
Noting the reflective look on his face, she wondered if she hadn't crossed one of her famous lines.
"I was kidding." she felt the need to add.
"Oh, I wasn't insulted... it's just that I thought you didn't have a dog right now. Or, in a fit of passion, did the said Admirals see fit to smuggle the dog away to Risa so they could live happily ever after? Or maybe you got rid of the dog after he chewed up your medal." Apparently Jack did hear something about the woman, despite what he had said earlier. Or maybe his memory just decided to work once again.
Betty whirled to face him, her usually placid face scarlet. "Leave that damned medal out of this. I never wanted the damn thing, all I did was my job." she growled. 'Let's just say I don't like the two of them under normal circumstances. When two opposites like that team up and start playing footsies under the table, I like them a lot less."
She looked him over again from head to toe.
"I would have thought the GREAT Jack Valhoun would enjoy the political games even less than I do. Isn't that why you've spent the better part of your career trying to get yourself court-martialed? Or did your time behind a desk make you soft? " she demanded, her finger poking into his chest with each word.
"But something is going on in Starfleet. Something BIG. You're blind if you don't see it. And I'll be damned in any of MY MARINES get hurt because of it." She growled, turning her back on him and swaying her ass with more vigor than was necessary.
"You haven't cut loose any of your marines yet, have you? It certainly doesn't look like the 'fleeters wasted any time beaming down. I'm looking forward to going down myself. Klingons, alcohol, ferengi traders. A veritable goldmine of fun. Don't you agree? At any rate, it would look poor of me to be lounging around planetside while the enlisted guys worked their asses off on the ship. So, when do you think they'll get leave?"
Betty stopped and stared at him with total disbelief. She shook herself and drew in a breath.
"Major Log is down at the Embassy right now, picking up new equipment. I have a squad detailed to Disruptor Refresher training at some civilian range outside lan'Jep city, that I'm taking down in an hour. Half the Fleeties on the ship are playing grabass on vacation. But I'm not a Fleetie. I'm Corps. So if you want to continue feeling sorry for yourself, fell free to drink yourself stupider. It IS your perogative. You made your bed, now either wallow in it some, or get the hell out of it and salvage yourself."
Her ice blue eyes met his levelly.
"Maybe that was unfair of me to say. Maybe even insubordinate. But you have a reputation, Leftenant Valhoun. And it isn't good. You know that and I know that. And until I know if you're in my way, or helping me, I'm gonna assume you're in my way. Because in THIS state, you sure aren't helping me," she promised.
Jack erupted in laughter that was more pain then pleasure, "You don't understand at all. You say that you'll be damned if any of your marines get hurt because of some damn fool Admiral's personal games. Well, I AM damned because I HAVE lost marines for that very reason. Trust me, while I breathe no more of my marines will not be the pawns of some idiot who couldn't poor piss out of a boot even if instructions were written on the heel."
Betty blinked in shock. She visibly rolled back. The idea of Marines getting HURT caused her teeth to bare in a rictus of hate. While she understood where this guy was coming from, she never understood why ones like him kept FIGHTING the system head on. Before she could open her mouth, he plowed onwards. "Inability to shut his mouth" was one of the things she remembered from Valhoun's personnel file.
Well, while he was on a roll he may as well go all the way, "And, you have precious little right to lecture me. Miss Why'd-I-Get-Promoted-And-Rewarded-When-All-My-Friends-Died. That was the emotion you were going for, right? You don't fool me, your nights are just as haunted as mine. The only difference between us is that I don't whine, "Why me?" and then get angry at the person I just confided with. No one wants to see your pain. It's disgusting. I have so many scars that won't ever heal but they can only cause pain. And my pain doesn't matter, it is just a ghost, a phantom. It doesn't exist. Do you know what your pain does to you, though? Just a moment ago, when I brought up that damn medal, it turned you into a confused little girl. "
"Little girl...?" Betty mouthed the words and glared. at a loss for words because this guy had just hit her nail right on the head. She shrugged and took a deep breath.
~~Let it go, Betts. Let it go~~ she told herself.
"Here's your quarters. Per Captain Bhrode's orders, you must check and register all personal weapons with the Security Nerps in the Armoury. I'll tell Major Log that you are here. Enjoy." she whirled, ready to stalk off.
"That's odd, I thought that I to dismiss you. I mean, the regs may have changed recently but I always assumed that, me outranking you and all, that you vanished when I told you to vanish." Jack would be damned if he didn't get the last word in. "Oh, and you used up your get-out-of-jail-free card. If you ever act disrespectful towards me again we'll both lose some teeth."
Betty stopped and looked back over her shoulder. "Thank you sir. You're right. And you're wrong. You haven't reported in officially to Major Log, so you're not officially in the FIST Table of Staff. Therefore, I'm not under your command. Yet. You're welcome, for helping you though. Lieutenant Calhoun, wasn't it? And you were right, we would both loose some teeth." She added over the other shoulder, before flouncing off.
~~THAT guy is more annoying than Kreighoff and Corgan rolled up together.~~ she mused.
Jack pressed the console near the entrance. "I don't know what I did to deserve her but apparently I did something right in a past life. She's gonna save my career, maybe more," thought Jack to himself. Or he thought he thought that to himself. In actuality he said the words aloud but, in typical fashion, didn't realize it until far, far too late. Well, maybe she didn't hear him, he reassured himself. Maybe.
The jungle was all coming back to him.
It was a perfect meditation. A state that both lulled the user, and kept his focus, reflexes, and senses at peak efficiency. Every little sense was amplified by his heightened awareness of his current surroundings. He could feel everything that was around him. The thrumming of the idle warp engines as their resonance created minute vibrations on the hull, the buzzing of equipment as electricity was constantly fed to them, the hum of lights in illuminated halls, the timed ‘thump thump’ of feet coursing through the hallways, and the sliding swish of doors that opened and closed….
…The smell of damp earth, the sting of insects, the feeling of rain trickling down his skin, marring his perfectly applied camouflage, and the distant whistle of photon mortars and phaser fire.
This was his home, his environment, and he was the king of this jungle. A tiger, stalking the woods for prey.
More correctly, a prey that had four legs, and one very broad, flat back.
“Those Jem’Hadar scum will pay for taking the captain’s desk.” Marsh muttered darkly to himself, wiping off a ‘trickle’ of rain from his forehead.
He could sense it. The desk was nearby. Those filthy Jem’Hadar! They would do anything to demoralize the crew. Cause dissention in the ranks, turn security into an aimless entity that didn’t know exactly where to start on the search. But he knew. He was a shining exception of efficiency, accuracy, and deadliness. He was the baddest piece of business on this side of the front! That desk… was as good as his.
He heard the swishing sound of a door, preceded by the hum of a turbolift.
*Creak* A floorboard whispered from an intersection in the hall, bewildering the jungle stalker. As far as he recalled, there were no grav plates in the jungle. Then he was right! The Jem’Hadar were near, and not only that, they were stupid enough to reveal their base! And it was underground no less! Possibly top secret!
Patiently, Marsh flattened himself to the wall, dropping his rifle. He slid out a combat knife from a scabbard in his combat webbing, and waited to give the Jem’Hadar sentry the surprise of his short life…
“This sucks.” O’Rourke complained passionately, “First, engineering can’t fix our damn sensors. Then… oh I can’t believe how much this sucks… the Captain’s desk is stolen… right from under our noses! What else could possibly go wrong?”
“I don’t know ma’am.” Lieutenant E’xch impatiently answered, “And frankly, I don’t care.”
Most times, Lieutenant E’xch was usually the one who was willing to talk to his fellow crewmates. There wasn’t a moment that he wasn’t ready to start one of his ripping conversations about news events of the day (no matter how irrelevant), start a debate on the virtues of… anything (right or wrong, on any subject), or try to explain a topic that only his expertise and time honored experience could pick up (even if he was making it up).
However, it was Lieutenant O’Rourke that was monopolizing the conversation, and that annoyed E’xch to no end. For one, since when did O’Rourke consider herself the leader of their small and somewhat crudely knit together group? E’xch knew it in his heart that he was the heart and soul of the group, much less the unofficial leader, expert, advice giver, and overall go-to person. If he wanted to talk shop about Federation Law (which he thought Lieutenant O’Rourke was a hack that deserved to do hospital ship chasing rather than be behind a security desk), he would go to Lieutenant O’Rourke and dazzle her with his expertise. And if she wanted to join his polygamous circle, he wouldn’t mind that either. But for now, she was talking about the situation, and E’xch didn’t care.
“Come on, E’xch. Take this seriously.” O’Rourke sighed. The extent of E’xch borderline incompetence at anything was only offset by the fact that he does have general knowledge of anything was the only reason why she kept the Denobulan chatterbox on her team, and even then, she kept E’xch with her because of fear that E’xch would do something wrong on her own. But it didn’t matter. O’Rourke was fretting enough about the situation out loud to counter E’xch’s verbal output.
Both, as a result, were annoyed at each other.
“I know it’s serious, Lieutenant.” E’xch groaned, “And trust me, I’ll find that desk. Before you know it, I will have found it, and the captain will promote me to Lieutenant Commander while you people are searching.”
“And I’ll become Chief JAG in a week.” O’Rourke sarcastically answered.
“Well… whatever. I’ll find that desk, but in order for me to find it, you must let me search on my own!” E’xch pleaded.
O’Rourke snappily answered, “For the last time, no! You’re with me, like it or lump it!”
“Fine.” E’xch grumbled, “But don’t expect to find that desk with me tethered to you. With the limitations you have on searching anyways, we’ll never find the desk before alpha shift. We should try my suggestion before that desk is gone for good.”
”For the last time, those limits aren’t my fault!” O’Rourke tried to explain herself, “We can’t just issue a general warrant to all crew quarters without any proof of who stole the desk. That would be a violation of sentient rights, which you should know if you’re such a big hot shot on Federation Law!”
“I know Federation Law!” E’xch snapped, “And I know what Brhode will do to us if we don’t find his desk!”
“Look… I don’t care yet what Brhode will do. All I want to do is find the desk and be gone, ok? So let’s concentrate on finding the desk.”
”Ok. I agree. First the desk, then Brhode… and then… the promotion…”
”Shut up about the promotion.” O’Rourke sighed hopelessly.
“Ok, sir.”
Punching the button to the turbolift, O’Rourke then waited one moment, then walked in as the sliding doors parted to the small capsulated elevator. E’xch scampered in with her, closed the door, and set the turbolift for deck 3.
“O’Rourke?” Exch asked.
“Yes?” She wearily answered.
“I was wondering… why don’t I get any respect?”
The loaded question stunned her. She didn’t know how to respond, much less in a way that wouldn’t damage E’xch’s fragile ego (though he would say different to other people).
She answered, while swallowing her tongue, “I don’t know. Euugggg… Honestly.”
“Oh, ok. Sometimes… I feel like nobody acknowledges me, you know what I mean? My talents are not being appreciated enough, that’s all.” E’xch whined, “What can I do about it?”
”I don’t know… I just don’t know.” O’Rourke then changed the subject, “Please, lets get to the storage bay on deck five before Marsh gets to it.”
T’lan felt good to be back in her old position. For some reason, she didn’t feel comfortable being back on Vulcan. It was an emergency trip, brought on by sudden trauma from the Defiant. Involving neural surgeons, logicians, psychiatrists, and the Vulcan priesthood, they managed to piece together what was left of her wilted psyche and make something of a Vulcan out of the remainder.
On Vulcan, there was a very narrowly defined version of normal, logical behavior. Years of living with aliens, and a couple of instances where she suffered some psychological trauma, and gathering strange customs and hobbies had left her somewhat alienated from her family (all straight laced scientists, logicians, and other Vulcan approved vocations).
It felt good to be back on the ship, where being strange and out of place was not a hinderance. In fact, she enjoyed interacting with other alien species on the Galaxy rather than talking to her fellow Vulcans. The transporter officer she was talking to was a charming person, a roguishly handsome terran with a peculiar Antarian accent.
“All I can tell you is the thief didn’t use our transporters… per se.” Ensign Osbourne explained, “But they did use a transporter system of some sort, and used some sort of link to go between the transporter and the desk. Currently, we are still looking for anomalies in our own system to indicate use of our transporters, but nothing so far. Come back in a couple of hours, and I can tell you for sure.”
“I appreciate any assistance, Ensign.” T’lan thanked the young man as the turbolift opened. Both officers exited, walking in separate directions. Only one bothered to glance back, and it wasn’t Ensign Osbourne.
~”The search is going nowhere.”~ T’lan mused, ~”It would be illogical to continue at this point. I better tell O’Rourke I found nothing in the transporters.”~
“DIE, JEM’HADAR SCUM!!!!!”
A camouflaged figure darted out of the corner of the corridor, a large combat knife glinting meanly like a darting tongue of quicksilver. It was a flash of silver, green, gray, yellow and black speeding towards the flatfooted Vulcan security officer.
True to Vulcan nature, her hand was much quicker, and had a hold of the assailant’s shoulder. The camouflaged psycho dead weight crumpled on the floor fast.
“Marsh?” T’lan raised a curious eyebrow. “That was most illogical.”
“I could say the same thing about you, T’lan.” O’Rourke materialized from behind, scolding the Vulcan officer with a tone that didn’t want to take any more trouble.
“A Vulcan nerve pinch on a borderline psychotic. Very impressive.” E’xch clapped jokingly.
T’lan looked down and closely inspected the peacefully snoozing body. It was indeed Lieutenant Marsh, decorated in a lurid pattern of greens and blacks, without a single patch of pink skin to show. He cradled his phaser rifle and combat knife like a teddy bear, shifting his weight to one side, murmuring, and tucking himself in a fetal position.
“I assume Marsh has not found what we are looking for.” T’lan addressed her comrades stoically.
“That’s right, or else he wouldn’t be mugging people for it.” E’xch snidely remarked.
“That’s enough, E’xch.” O’Rourke punched the Denobulan on the shoulder. He winced in offence, but slunk back like a cowardly beast, “Any luck from the transporter nerds?”
“They are not… nerds as you point out.” T’lan defended, “They are knowledgeable people, and they do not yet possess the answers we seek.”
O’Rourke cursed, “Oh, dammit! We searched this ship for hours, asked for help from the Lanjepi authorities until it felt like we were pulling teeth, and still nothing? Great! Say goodbye to the Galaxy, because we’re going on the Brhode boot express to Breen!”
“In other words… all of our options have been exhausted.” T’lan bemoaned.
“For once, somebody has the right answer.” O’Rourke groaned.
“Ummm… guys?” E’xch peeped. His hand was impatiently raised, bobbing up and down for attention. He was standing on his toes to help get himself noticed, and the effort finally paid off. T’lan and O’Rourke faced their Denobulan counterparts with disdain and desperation.
“What, E’xch?” Shelly O’Rourke asked.
“I think if we can’t find the desk… we should replace it.” E’xch suggested.
Immediately, O’Rourke blew up in E’xch’s face. “Are you nuts?!?” She wailed, “We’ll be in deep trouble if anyone finds out! And where are we going to find a captain’s desk at this hour?”
“I’d rather take my chances here than on Breen. How about you?” E’xch argued.
“His logical is impeccable.” T’lan agreed.
Flustered and red faced, O’Rourke didn’t want to cave. But the thought of practicing Federation Law on Breen didn’t appeal to her. She surrendered. “Where do we get it?”
“I know just the place.” E’xch suggested, “However, it will cost us.”
”How much?” O’Rourke asked.
“I don’t know, but follow me to the Promenade.” E’xch waved for them to follow. T’lan and O’Rourke followed, leaving the sleeping Marsh behind…
Until O’Rourke remembered what happened to the Dominion War Veteran. “T’lan… don’t leave Marsh in the middle of the hallway. Wake him up… or carry him. The last thing we need is more trouble.”
Effortlessly, T’lan walked backwards, than hefted the human onto her back with practiced ease and Vulcan strength. Then, the odd party continued their journey to the Promenade.
Brianna hurried down the corridor still calling after her dog, "Peckerwood..." She said as she rounded a corner and saw a rather large built man standing there holding her dog. "What did you do?" She asked as she walked up and then looked at the man. "I'm sorry, he got away from me." Anna said then smiled.
"You would be wise to control your animal better, vessels are no place for roaming pets." Saladin stated to her without even raising an eyebrow, the Nietzchean officer handed the dog over.
Taking her dog under her arm she frowned. "I'm sorry, again." Brianna said. "I wasn't aware that he ruined your day." She replied then started around him to go on to her quarters.
"No he didn't but he could have been injured, and I believe you wouldn't like that."
"Un-huh." Brianna replied. "I'm Lt. Brianna O'Shea, soon to be Chief Engineer of this ship." She said holding out her hand. "Might I inquire who you are?"
He extended his hand, "Major Saladin Bolivar, chief of intelligance and Liason from the Nietzchean confederation."
"Why does that confrederation sound familure?" Brianna asked withdrawing her hand. "I know I've heard that before." She said then hooked the leash on Peckerwood and sat him down on the floor. "Major.. so you the CO of the marines?"
"No, I am chief of intelligance." He looked at her, "my rank is from my home, I am a Lancer officer."
Brianna bit her tongue so she wouldn't laugh, a man chief of intelligence, now that was funny. "So your Intell, who on this ship is the trouble makers and who do I need to watch out for?" Brianna asked.
"Troublemakers, there are many on this ship. However the true troublemakers are not visible." He raised an eyebrow. "Federation rules do not allow the same matter of survey that I would normally have on crew."
Brianna nodded. "I'm sure you know all about me then, don't you?" She said as she pulled the dog away from a passing officer. "sit!" She said, then smiled when the dog complied.
He shook his head, "No, I have not." He examined the creature, "he seems to be more obedient."
"He is when wants to be, thinks he is king of everything. His name is Peckerwood." She said then smiled down at the Scottish Terrier. "I should let you go, I'm sure your busy."
"I do have some work to prepare for the next mission. I don't know what captain Bhrode has in store."
"I need to find my quarters and report in, perhaps we'll talk again later on." Brianna said walking around him and then starting down the corriodor.
"Perhaps." was all he said. Then they walked their sepearte ways.
****
"Okay, I haven't told them what you know - just that you served with this weasel," Victor explained as he and Jeremy entered the club. "I apologize if that wasn't fair to you, but I didn't want to get them worked up before the fact - they can get a little excitable if they try."
"They should be... ah, there they are." Victor pointed to a table in the corner, giving Jeremy his first look at his aunts.
Both women stood up as they saw the two men enter the room, the shorter one waving. They were younger than expected, no older than Victor himself, very attractive - and Andorian.
"Over here, Heinrich," the shorter one called out, her long hair swinging in a loose, casual braid. "We saved..."
"...you some of the pinute dip," the taller one finished so seamlessly it appeared they shared a mind. "We know how much..."
"...you like it."
Victor paused at the table to make introductions. "Lieutenant, these are my aunts, Rexa and Ar'resh." Rexa turned out to be the taller woman with shoulder-length hair, and Ar'resh the shorter one with the waist-length braid. "Ladies, this is Lieutenant Jeremy Savoie, he's the man I told you about who served with Greta's new boyfriend."
Putting forth his best manners, Jeremy extended his hand to Ar'resh first. "Nice to meet you," he murmured in a voice that hinted of a slightly husky tone. "Wish I had aunts that looked like that," he muttered over his shoulder so only Victor would hear. He re-focused his attention to the ladies. "Enjoying your stay on sunny lanJep?" he teased.
"Oh yes," Ar'resh shook his hand warmly, passing it to her sister, who had a slightly crisper but still friendly grasp. "We haven't met many of our Heinrich's shipmates yet, but the ones we have met were all."
".very nice," Rexa continued. "We have hopes that we can convince that nice young Ella Grey from Engineering that she and our Heinrich would be."
Victor's hands tightened on the top of his chair, knuckles white.
".so good together that it would take both their breaths away. It's been such a long time since Heinrich was in a proper relationship that we're worried about him."
Victor coughed. "Ahhh. maybe we can talk about me later? This is really so you can get to know something about Greta's new beau."
"Oh, of course," Rexa nodded, settling back into her chair and setting off a wave of similar motion around the table. "Our Heinrich tells us you've served with Lt. Commander Riordan before, Lieutenant?
"Oh that will never do!" Ar'resh sighed. May we call you Jeremy? 'Lieutenant seems so stuffy and formal."
"By all means," he replied. Taking a seat at their table, Jeremy grinned mischievously. "So you ladies are helping your unfortunate little nephew with his love life, eh? Sounds like a tough job when you can't be on the same ship as him. And how do you find the time? Surely your own love lives must be pretty time-consuming," he said, gesturing to a solid-looking Klingon barmaid for a drink.
For a moment, the two women's expressions were genuinely sad, and a palpable sense of loss filled the air. Ar'resh reached out and took her sister's hand. "Not since we lost our husbands in the War," she explained.
Rexa nodded. "We do miss them so." She looked at her sister and smiled sadly. "Especially on nights like tonight."
~Oh no. ~ Victor swallowed the mouthful of pinute dip he'd scooped up with a chip. ~ I'd better get this back on track before they get any more depressed. ~ "When I mentioned that I thought you'd served with Riordan, they were dying to talk to you," he interjected to Jeremy.
"Oh yes," Ar'resh brightened, but didn't release her sister's hand. "Our Greta sounded so happy with him, we were just."
".dying to find out all we could about her young man. And then our Heinrich mentioned that he thought you'd mentioned him before."
".and we just had to talk to you." Ar'resh smiled, some of the sadness leaving her eyes. "Where did you meet him?"
"Have you known him long?"
"What's he like?"
"Ladies," Victor interceded gently. "Slow down, please. One question at a time so he can answer, all right?"
"Oh," Rexa sighed, we're.
"sorry," Ar'resh finished. "Forgive us."
".please? We're just so excited to."
".meet someone that can answer our questions about him."