| Home
Characters Logs Specs Rules Join
|
"New
News"
Spencer shuffled back to his quarters. He didn't feel like being around anyone right now and he still had the unwelcome task of contacting Doctor Finnley's family. He entered his quarters and sealed the door behind him with satisfaction. He paused a moment to enjoy the solitude. Finally he crossed to his desk and stared at the blank video monitor. This was not a task he looked forward to, for any crewmember. Taking a deep breath, he finally called up the Doctor's personal records and looked up his family history. After several minutes of scanning he found that there was no one. Although it was kind of a sad place to find satisfaction, the Captain welcomed not having to make that call. Finnley had been raised by his grandmother; Spencer grunted at the irony, he had also been raised by his grandmother, but now that he knew of the link he shared with his Chief Medical Officer, there was no way to share it with him. But there was still the report that needed to be made to Starfleet Command. In some ways the cold, detached description he would have to make for the official document was worse than the emotional outpouring he would have to face when contacting the family. Bracing himself, he called up a blank form from the ship's database and began thinking about how he needed to word his report. Subconsciously looking for a distraction, Spencer scanned his desk to see several new pads and reports piled in one corner. He flipped through them to see if anything needed his immediate attention. One item stood out, however. A small holoemitter was mixed into the other files. Picking it up and examining it, he saw that there was a note etched on the base. It simply read, "I'm sorry, I love you." Spencer raised an eyebrow suspiciously before activating the emitter. A small image of Marie appeared from the device. She was quite naked and was running her hands over and around her naked body in an obviously sensual show for the camera. Her eyes seemed to look at him with a disinterested distance that seemed to draw him in even more. He smiled at his memory of the feel of her body. God, he could sure use her comforting presence right now. It seemed like an odd move for Marie, sending naked pictures of herself didn't really address the issue keeping her marriage secret during their relationship. If anything it seemed a little arrogant to think that she could distract him through the erotic display. But he continued to stare at the repeating display. He did miss her... Suddenly he was startled by the chime of the ship comm. He should have known that his solitude wouldn't last. It never did for a captain. He activated his screen and an image of Sonya Williams appeared. "Sonya?" David replied, clearly stunned. "I didn't think I'd be hearing from you again." "I read the report," Sonya smiled. "You're forgiven. It's not too hard to figure out what really happened, you're not the first captains whos yeoman had a crush on him." "I wish it was that simple." David shook his head as he remembered her response when he tried to return her attention. "She's one odd little alien." "Look, David, I'm actually calling on official business." Sonya's tone shifted slightly to a more official tembre. "Oh?" he asked. "We've been going over the crime scene where your doctor disappeared, and we believe there may be more to this than we thought." It was amazing how Sonya was able to sound professionally detached yet sympathetic at the same time. "What do you mean?" David sat up straighter. "I don't think your doctor is dead." Sonya said. "In addition to a complete lack of organic residue, we have been able to find some alternate energy signatures that we're still trying to isolate and identify." "Oh," David stared at her image for a long moment as the news settled in. "Are you sure?" "We're really coming up with more questions than answers; but, yes, we're sure." "I'll
be right there" Spencer stood and darted out of his quarters.
"Tastes
Like Pear"
"What happened to the pears?" Jonothan asked after scanning the bench in the mess three times. "You ate them all, sir," replied the Caitian steward, Petty Officer Mo'La. "Not possible," Jonothan retorted in his playful tone. "I've only had about a half a dozen in the past week." "Why don't you try this," Mo'La said, picking up a very grey looking fruit covered in fuzz, not unlike Kiwi. "It's a Pala fruit, from Andoria." Jonothan took the fruit as though it were an explosive that could go off at any moment. It felt very dry, and the fuzz was beginning to make his hand itch. "What's it taste like?" he asked, sceptically. "Would you believe me if I said it tasted like pears?" Mo'La asked. The human chuckled and said, "Mo'La, I don't believe a word you say. Much like when you say there are no pears." The Caitian laughed out loud, exposing his canine teeth. "You've got me, Fitz," he said before reaching down beneath the bench and producing a small bowl with four pears. "I tell you what. I'll let you have a pear, if you try the Pala." Jonothan squinted at the steward as he considered the proposition. "I could always just order you to hand over a pear," he said slyly. "There's a lot of paperwork involved in an insubordination charge, I hear," Mo'La replied. "Hmm," Jonothan considered his options again, looking from the bowl of pears to the Pala and back to Mo'La. "Alright, Petty Officer," he emphasised the rate, "you win." "I'm glad you're expanding your horizons, Lieutenant," Mo'La said, placing the bowl on the bench. Jonothan grumbled as he brought the Pala to his mouth and bit into it. Under the dry, fuzzy skin was rather juicy and sweet. "Tastes like pear," Jonothan noted with a smile. "But not as sweet." Mo'La grinned, "I told you so." "You did," Jonothan replied with a laugh before he finished the fruit. "Now," he said as he wiped his hands. Then he pointed to the bowl of pears, "Hand me a pear." Mo'La caught sight of Jonothan's hand as he pointed and immediately grabbed it. "Oh dear," he said. "I didn't expect this." Jonothan looked at his hand to see it was quite red. "What the ...?" he said as he pulled his hand back and examined it more closely. The rash covered most of the palm of his hand and his fingers. He looked at his left hand and saw that the rash was there too, though not as severe as on his right. "That damn fruit," he said, looking back up at Mo'La. "Looks like you're allergic to Pala, Lieutenant," Mo'La said. "Thank-you, Doctor Mo'La," Jonothan said, somewhat sarcastically. "I'd better go to sickbay." "Yes, you should," Mo'La said. "I'll have pears waiting for you when you return." Jonothan
didn't respond as he quickly strode out of the mess and toward the nearest
turbolift. Once inside, he started to chuckle at his misfortune. "That'll
teach me," he said.
"SOS"
It had been about a week, as far as Baxter could figure. He'd been working very hard on finding the answer that Kvor wanted, and the Klingons weren't mild task masters. The equipment he had to work on was state of the art, which made Baxter wonder where the hell they'd been able to acquire it. The only answer he had was that this ship was definitely being funded by the Klingon empire. He'd tried to refuse to do the work he'd been requested to do - developing a biological weapon as massively destructive as Bio-mimetic gel was completely banned by the Federation - but Doctor Telvek had quickly shown him that refusal, passive resistance, and even working too slowly, was unacceptable. "Human PTaH!" She'd said as she'd backhanded Baxter out of his seat. She walked over to him and placed her boot-heel on his wind-pipe. "You will DO WHAT YOU'RE TOLD. I would kill you now if we didn't need you. What do you think Commander Kvor will do with you if he finds out? You will suffer much more at his hands then you will at mine, and one of those children will die. You should consider yourself lucky he isn't here. Now get up and get back to work." She took her foot off as Baxter began wheezing and coughing, drawing air past his bruised windpipe. She walked back over to her terminal without looking back, as Baxter shakily rose to his feet. So the doctor did the only thing he could. Every time he balked at what he was told to do, Telvek would give him another not so gentle reminder of exactly what was expected of him. He had no choice but to comply with the demands of his captors and continue their research into the fabrication of the hideous biological weapon that the Klingons were working on. Fortunately, he didn't have Telvek looking over his shoulder every moment of the long days spent in the laboratory, which gave him the opportunity to explore just how much of the Klingon's computer system he had access to. After several careful attempts to circumvent their security measures, the doctor noticed that his access wasn't nearly as restricted as Starfleet would have made it if the situation had been reversed... *Yeah, right... since when did Starfleet kidnap Klingons and put them to slave labour?* After a few more days of grueling work with the task master doctor Telvek, Baxter had an epiphany. He knew how to send a message to the Republic. *I hope Ensign Trevors is on the ball...* Baxter went through a backdoor into the deflector grid control system - not normally considered a system which required significant security, as it had nothing to do with a Klingon ship's fighting ability. The doctor stared at the readings. *I'm surprised this ship hasn't been ripped apart by space debris by now, with all these fluctuations in the grid!* Baxter tapped a few quick controls and shut down his terminal just before Telvek rounded the corner to check up on him. Baxter stood up and stretched. "I'm all done here. I guess my next job is to work on the delivery system?" he bluffed, as he backed away from the terminal. Telvek just pointed at the next job and glared at him. *Now
lets see if they even pick up the hyper-space SOS these Klingon deflectors
are emitting...*
"Goings
On"
Tarrah whistled to herself as she strolled down the corridor of the Republic. Everything was going along beautifully. David and Marie should be rushing back into each other's arms any minute now. Perhaps she should concentrate on hooking up some of the other members of the crew. Remembering her last performance review with the first officer, Tarrah certainly thought that Lt. Commander d'Veccio could use a good... hook up. As she passed by sickbay, her thoughts turned to Doctor Finnley, he had been really super nice to Tarrah from the beginning. Maybe she should share her good feelings with him. So, she decided to stop in and ask if he could get away for lunch. With a bounce in her step she popped through the door of the medical labs. The atmosphere in sickbay was thick; nurses and orderly's went about their business in a detached mechanical way that suggested that it hurt too much to think about what they were doing. Tarrah froze as she took in the somber scene. She glanced around frantically for the Doctor, he could explain what the problem was. "Excuse me," she said to a nurse who passed nearby, "Could you please tell me where Doctor Finnley is?" Tarrah's voice was barely a whisper. It was as if she was afraid that breaking the silent oppression would be damaging to them all. "Oh, Honey," the nurse gasped and gulped before answering, "Didn't you hear? Doctor Finnley... He... He died during his shore leave." The words hit Tarrah like a sledgehammer. Unable to replay, she was knocked back against the wall. She just stared back in horror at the nurse's words. This was insane; people don't die on shore leave. "I'm sorry you had to hear this way." The nurse continued, "Is there anything I can get you?" Unable to do anything else, Tarrah just turned and ran from the room. She had no idea where she was going or how long she ran. She just ran. Crewmembers stepped aside as she ran back and forth between them. Finally she saw Captain Spencer heading toward the transporter room. Focusing on him she sped up and threw herself infront of him. "David, what's happening?" She beat on his chest in a total disregard for rank. "Not now, Tarrah." He tried to push her aside, oblivious to her emotional state. "I just heard about Doctor Finnley," She was clawing at his jacket, "What happened to him?" This brought the captain up short. He turned to look at his yeoman. "I don't know yet, Tarrah." He put his hand on her shoulder. "The nurse said he was dead." Tarrah was becoming more and more confused. "I know. But I'm going down to the station to see for myself." He struggled as he tried to decide how to calm the girl without giving any potentially false hope. It was a delicate balance. "I'll let you know as soon as I find out anything." "Promise?" Tarrah looked up at him, not stopping the tears that slipped out. "I promise." David vowed. With nothing else to say, he turned to go. "David," she stopped him, he turned. "He was my friend." "I know." He nodded, "I recently heard someone say 'there are always possibilities', I don't remember who it was, but it's a good thing to remember. Why don't you go back to my office and clean up my files, I'll get to them later." "Yes sir." Tarrah wiped away her tears as she turned to go. David took two steps toward the transporter before he remembered the hologram of Marie sitting on his desk. "On second though," he cried after Tarrah, "Why don't you take the rest of the day off." Tarrah was confused by his sudden nervousness, but then she remembered the "gift" and smiled once again as she turned down the corridor. "There
are always possibilities." She repeated to herself.
"Investigation"
The security guards stepped aside as Captain Spencer approached the scene of the accident. As he stepped around the corner he could see why the public was being kept away. The blast had completely destroyed this entire corridor. Black, charred remains extended to the limits of the curving hall. It was no wonder no organic remains existed after this plasma conduit ruptured. Yet in the middle of this carnage, Sonya Williams stood waiting for the Captain's arrival. "Damn..." Spencer couldn't stop the exclamation from slipping out as he strolled up to her. "Yeah, I know." Sonya replied encouragingly. "It's no wonder you couldn't find anything." David continued to gaze around in amazement. "I think that was the idea." Sonya pulled out a small canister. "But we did find a small portion of the bulkhead that we believe was near the plasma conduit." She nodded her head toward the gaping hole in the wall. If that wall had been near the outside of the station, everyone in this sector would likely be blasted into space. "How did you arrange that?" David asked as she dumped the contents of the canister into his open palm. "Pure luck. We found it imbedded in the wall on the opposite side." "Hmm." If it had shot straight across, it could have shot right through Doctor Finnley. Spencer examined the shard closely, looking for any sign to confirm the grisly image. But the piece of metal didn't seem to reveal any information. It had been burned completely beyond recognition. Even the original wall color had been blasted away. That's when Spencer began to notice the difference; he flipped the shard back and forth several times before he confirmed his observation. While both sides of the metal were burned and charred, they didn't quite match each other. One side held the normal greenish black scar typical of a plasma explosion, but the other side had a warmer, almost maroon burn. "This was blasted from both the outside and inside wasn't it?" he glanced up at Sonya as realization dawned on him. "Yes, David. This wasn't an accident." She smiled back in encouragement at his revelation. "But why? If you're going to kill someone, why blow out a plasma conduit and not just vaporize..." Sonya smiled as David continued to follow the same line of reasoning that they had already gone down. "A phaser couldn't have done this, could it?" "Not this kind of molecular disruption, no." Sonya crossed her arms as the final pieces of the puzzle came together for Captain Spencer. "A disrupter..." He snapped straighter, now it was clear. Now he could act. The doctor was alive and now he would be able to do something about it. "Klingons!" "That's what we figure." Sonya replied coolly. But Spencer ignored her as he pulled out his communicator and flipped it open. "Spencer to Republic." He snapped into it. "Mr. Fitzgerald, prepare the ship for immediate departure and begin scanning for cloaked ships! Mr. Hargraves, retrieve what crew you can and tell the rest we'll pick them up later. I want us out of here yesterday." He caught Sonya's smile as she watched him leap into action. "Thank
you, Sonya." He said before he raised the communicator back to his mouth.
"Beam me up now, Republic!" And the glowing energy enveloped him.
"All
Nighter (Almost)"
Tomoe slouched over the desk in her dim quarters, chin resting on folded arms. The darkened surface of her computer was shifting gently in its screen-saver pattern, having been sitting there unused for the better part of 4 hours. She'd felt similarly blank in the last week, ever since Dr. Finnley had disappeared. It was one thing to lose a crew member to a clear hazard, quite another to have someone simply vanish under mysterious pretenses. Although it was simpler to consider the doctor dead and that was the official word being spread, Tomoe knew neither she nor Captain Spencer would be satisfied until they knew the whole truth. The debris pattern was clearly indicative of a fatal accident, but the lack of biological residue and relative ease of masking a successful beamout behind a planned "malfunction" (if such were the case) raised questions. Unfortunately, all the questions led to dead ends. Who would go to the trouble to surreptitiously kidnap Doctor Finnley and stage his death? How far could he have been beamed? What was their motive and why had they not demanded a ransom already? A rumbly feeling in her stomach reminded Tomoe that she hadn't eaten anything for quite a while. She pressed the door control and poked her head outside. The hallway was clear and quiet, meaning it was probably well past the midnight shift, and only a few crew members would be on duty, boredly watching the bridge monitors for any signs of activity. Tomoe figured it was safe to venture out in her current state, much different from her usual well-groomed self. Black hair was arranged in an obviously haphazard fashion, sticking out from her head at the back. A simple t-shirt, baggy jeans and stocking feet completed her "working late" attire. The mess hall was empty and dimly lit when she arrived, only the nighttime blue glow from beneath the cabinets giving her a view of the kitchen. Thankfully, someone had the foresight to make sure the kitchen was well-stocked for snackers in between regular meal hours. Tomoe easily found a loaf of bread and a package of turkey in the refrigerator, making for a very nice little sandwich when garnished with sprouts and a slice of cheese. She sat down at a table by one of the windows and took a bite, but looking out at the stars only reminded her that someone was lost. LOST. Dammit. Forgetting she had only socks on her feet, Tomoe kicked the post under the table in frustration, eliciting a shock of pain from her big toe. Okay, that was enough of the mess hall. Tomoe picked up her plate and limped (overly dramatically for a stubbed toe, but no one noticed her) back to her quarters to continue thinking. The sandwich was a help for her nutritional needs, but eventually human biology won out. She barely remembered to collapse into bed before falling fast asleep. |
