Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Mar 5, 2007 5:01:32 GMT
The faint songs of tropical birds greeted Melain as she slowly awoke. For a moment she was confused, then remembered where she was With a satisfied sigh she rolled over and opened one eye to see Frek, still sleeping, beside her. A slender sunbeam had managed to sneaking past the drape and across Frek’s face, he twitched faintly as if the light was tickling him. Melain lay silently for a moment relishing in the peace and debated whether or not to get up.
There where many things to do on Risa, almost too many things, but they had a whole two weeks and had not even been on the planet for twelve hours. They beamed in late and headed strait to their rooms for some dearly needed sleep. The days before had been full of debriefing, interviews with media, a celebration held in their honour, and the unexpected announcement of transfers and promotions. Melain was no longer Doctor Lorre, no, now she was Captain Lorre, something that would take a great deal of time to get used to.
When she had first joined StarFleet Academy her prior medical training had left her with a few option, one of which was to take some command training. Those courses had never been of much use, but where apparently enough to make her qualified to take Commodore Jira’s place. The Commodore was being switched to a more prestigious ship in another fleet, Hannah was being given a Command of her own and Frek, Frek of all people was now her first officer. Melain looked over at the blue sleeping form of Commander Thelev and smiled, what was Command thinking?
She lay her head back down on the pillow and wrestled with her thoughts a little longer. What had she got herself into? How could Frek and her possibly run a ship? What where the main differences between a Sovereign class cruiser and an Akira Class cruiser and why could she not remember them? How would she keep her nose out of the new CMO’s business? How was she going to chose crew? Why was she no longer allowed to wear her earring? Harrias had never brought it up, but as soon as she was given command of the Nevada Admiral Lin pulled her aside and informed her that as the ship’s Captain it was her job to serve as an example when it came to things even as petty as the dress code.
No wondered they had been given two weeks leave, she would need two weeks to pluck up the courage to slip on the red collared uniform and start bossing around her former peers.
“Hey beautiful.... I mean Captain.” Frek yawned as he shuffled out of the sunbeam’s piercing light.
’Frek, nothing’s changed. Okay that’s not true.” Melain sighed. “What are we going to do?”
“That beach looked like a great place to start.”
Melain rolled her eyes. “That’s not what I mean. I mean what are we going to do about us. This thing is not exactly encouraged by command. If they find out they might transfer us to different ships. We have not exactly been discreet.” ”Don’t worry about it. We’ll just start being discreet, the others won’t say anything.” Frek assured her before placing a rather mushy kiss on her forehead. “Things will work out.”
“I guess so. You getting up?”
“Yeah, I’m a little peckish and the lady at the desk said something about breakfast.” Frek replied as he rolled out of bed. “Are you coming?”
“Sure,” Melain nodded as she slid out from under the covers. “Just let me get dressed I’m not going down there in my pyjamas and neither should you.”
“Is that an order?”
“Does it have to be?” -------------------------------------- The buffet had been rather picked through and Melain was sort of regretting sleeping in so late. The waiters were standing around anxious to get started with the lunch time crowd and gave her an annoyed look when she asked if there where any pancakes. Frek and her managed to escape with full bellies and a few plans for the day. The rest of the crew was in the same hotel, but they had yet to spot any of them. To be honest Melain was not sure if she wanted to be around them. They had a great deal of time together the past few days and things had been awkward since her promotion. Okay that was not true, they had simply been different which for Melain meant awkward.
“My bathing suite is still in the room, and so is yours. If we cut through the lobby I think it will be quicker.” Melain decided as she turned a sharp corner into the hotel’s lobby which was filled with typical Risan art including far too many horga'hn. As soon as she rounded the corner she regretted it. The lobby was crowded with hotel personal all of whose attention was focused on a solitary figure. A figure whom Melain was embarrassed to admit she was familiar with. Miss Karin Valentine, singer, song writer and inter universal super star. A diva above all divas and Melain’s childhood idol. Okay, to be fair Melain had only been twelve and Miss Valentine was still at the point in her career where she deserved some respect. At the moment however she was regarded as a burnt out has-been who had yet to accept that. Her greying hair was died a bright red and the tint of her face almost masked it.
“...worth more then the entire contents of this hotel put together!”
“I will have everyone look for him Mame, please remain calm we are doing everything we can.”
“That’s not good enough! He has not ran away he has been stolen, kidnapped! You should shut down the entire planet, search every shuttle, search every room!” Miss Valentine screamed, her voice already raspy from poor technique in her younger days now resembled that of an elderly cat.
The hotel manager looked around obviously exasperated. “I can’t do that, talk to the authorities and relax.” as soon as the last word came into his mouth he obviously regretted it.
“RELAX! My precious Lil Prince has been kidnapped and you want me to RELAX!!!”
“Frek, let’s take the back route.” Melain hissed, Miss Valentine was well known to take her wrath out on anything at hand, including any vacationing couple who got in her way.
(120982/1074/1)
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connorstephens
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Registered: Apr 23, 2024 21:47:07 GMT
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Post by connorstephens on Mar 5, 2007 14:21:30 GMT
Memories and images of flying poison darts, originating in dark crannies and spaces of the ship, jolted Connor Stephens awake. It took a few minutes for him to recognize where he was. For the briefest moment, he felt his neck as if checking for a wounding there, and the thought entered his mind that he had perhaps succumbed to one of those darts, and that now he lay in the great morgue of Heaven. The bed was soft, the satin sheets exquisite. A slight breeze ruffled the curtains at the window, driving in soft scents of flowers and sea.
He breathed deeply, stretching and taking in the warm morning air. He wasn't in Heaven, of course, he realized, but not far from it. He was in a great king bed in one of the most renowned hotels on the planet, Risa the Magnificent, the most popular tourist destination in the quadrant, famous for its beauties and its pleasures. Stephens didn't know how lucky a man could be, but he'd have bet that perhaps he was, in this moment, one of the luckiest.
He'd just graduated from the Academy, and, desirous of a good posting, had hoped fervently that he would be assigned to the Nevada, the finest ship in the fleet. His Academy marks had been good ones, and, perhaps owing to this, he was given the posting he had desired, though there were other ships as well that could have satisfied him.
The Nevada had just finished a mission, one crucial with import to the Federation, and her crew had been decorated and thanked for their valor, courage and persistence. And upon meeting that crew, Stephens had been awed by their professionalism, their dedication, and their easygoing manner. He was proud to be a part of this crew, and vowed to be as professional and dedicated as they. They'd been rewarded for their work by being given a fortnight holiday on Risa, and after those whirlwind few days between graduation and posting, Stephens had made ready for the trip.
And now he was waking after arriving the day before. He hadn't seen T'Pren, and wasn't sure if she was here yet, but he hoped so, certainly. He was amazed at his developing feelings for her. Of course, he loved all women, but had never had any particular fancy for Vulcan women, and if he had been asked to list his favorites, by species, Vulcan maidens would have not been anywhere near the top. But there was something about her--maybe because she smiled, or maybe it was the dark coppery skin of her face--that deeply intrigued him, and made him wish to see her more, and to know her better and more intimately. Serving on the same ship together would allow for that, and Stephens would be immensely pleased, as, he imagined, would she.
As much as he might have wished it, he couldn't stay in this luxurious bed all day. He heard his stomach rumbling, and felt really hungry. Checking his chronometer, he saw that it was early yet, but supposed that breakfast would be in the offing nonetheless, and just the thought of specific delicious foods waiting for him made him stretch out of bed. Hurriedly, he showered and put on a fresh change of clothing, and wandered down to the restaurant where he found an immense buffet, populated with the most wondrous of culinary offerings. It wasn't particularly crowded at this early hour, so he relaxed and took some time to look around him. For the most part, the diners were single, as Stephens was. Tradesmen, preparing for their days. Husbands, perhaps, who eschewed the idea of sleeping in with their shrewish wives. Bleary-eyed night folk, who had not, as yet, turned in. Interesting in some ways, all of them, but what most intrigued Stephens was an elderly couple very obviously in love.
The woman was dark, in a dusky kind of way, with full features, dark and silky hair, manicured fingers and a genuinely warm smile. She was perhaps late forties, but appeared in the peak of health, a bloom of color blushing her cheeks as she talked quietly with her companion. In complete contrast to the smooth robustness of his mate, the man was one of the most outlandish beings Stephens had ever seen. Human, certainly enough, as was she, but there all similarities ended.
He was tall and lanky, most likely approaching seventy. He had small, closely-set eyes of an indiscriminate color, a freakishly long nose upon the end of which sat a pair of spectacles, which he would adjust occasionally by simply wiggling them about a bit and then placing them in the same place again, precariously close to the end of his nose. He had on a straw-mesh gardener's hat, a linen tunic-style shirt open in the front, a pair of patchy trousers and a pair of ancient muddy boots. He looked for all the world like some ill-paid landscaper, doting on the munificence of the lovely matron with him.
Stephens chuckled to himself as he watched them, and decided that he would very much like to get to know them better. Finding a seat near to them, he cleared his throat and approached.
"Good morning. I'm Connor Stephens, Science Officer aboard the Federation ship Nevada. I couldn't help noticing you as I came in. I was looking for my companion, but she has not yet arrived. It's a pleasure to meet you."
The woman smiled graciously, and inclined her head slightly in deference to her mate. The man looked up at Stephens and smiled.
"Science officer, eh?" he asked. "You look the part, Mr Stephens. And have you, by any chance, an interest in Botany?"
Stephens confided that he had some interest, but that languages were his specialty. The man nodded in approval, and then extended his hand. "John Henry Holliday, PhD, Botanist. And this," he said, indicating the woman, "is my lovely wife Mikayla. We were just married, and are here for our honeymoon, after nearly twenty years of being separated from each other. It's a long story, Mr Stephens, and perhaps boring for others to hear. But we welcome you, and ask that you and your companion join us for dinner in the next day or two." He produced a card with his room number on it, made a notation, and handed it to Stephens.
Connor Stephens was completely aghast. Sitting before him was the John Henry Holliday, PhD, Botanist, the foremost scientist and botanist in the galaxy, whose work with orchids was known everywhere. Doc Holliday, the final arbiter of all things horticultural.
Stephens had trouble breathing, much less speaking. But he did manage to squeak out, "It would be my pleasure, Sir," before falling into a reverie of possibilities.
1134/1134/1
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fthelev
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Registered: Apr 23, 2024 21:47:07 GMT
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Post by fthelev on Mar 6, 2007 22:34:41 GMT
The manager of the Beach Side resort Risa the Magnificent was not happy. There were several signs that gave that away, and frankly, you didn’t have to be a psychologist to figure them out. His shacking hand could have given it away, like the trembling in his voice or the fact every time the shrill sound echoed through the room he winced seemingly terror-stricken. But the most noticeable fact supporting the notion he was not pleased was probably the source of the shrill sound. “But Miss Valen…” by now the manager was clearly showing a twitch under his right eye. Apart from her fading fame, her voice clearly wasn’t what it used be as well. Or perhaps it had all been a case of very creative studio engineering in those days. A warning finger was lifted so fast you could almost hear a ‘whoosh’ as it moved through the air. “Don’t you start ‘Missing’ me young man,” she said in a voice low and dangerous, slightly hoarse like a bear with bronchitis. The ‘young man’ she was speaking to was at least ten years her senior, but that didn’t seem to occur to her. One look at the manager’s face and it was quite clear he wouldn’t miss her in a million years. “I want my baaayheeeybieeee!” she shrieked turning back to her high pitch and took a deep breath, “Baaaaack!” “Who’s that?” Frek asked watching the display with Melain tucking at his arm. He inspected the wall and ceilings. Was it just his imagination of was there some plaster coming down? I mean, with such a voice you would have more fun listening to a lost band of Transluvian crows on a lonely cemetery during its dual full moons madness. It was a good thing the resort didn’t require any windows with the constantly desirable weather system on Risa; there was a good chance some, if not all, wouldn’t have survived. “Karen Valentine,” Melain whispered pushing the curious Andorian towards the exit, “she was about the biggest star in the quadrant about fifteen years ago, don’t you remember?” Frek stopped and stared at woman with the flaming red hair. Her screams, shrieking and flapping had attracted quite a gathering by now. Connor Stephens was entering from the other side of the lobby and Josh Reo was coming hurrying down the stairs, followed by David Ramsey. Perhaps he thought the resort was under attack. It seemed awfully quiet apart from the grasping breathing from the diva, apparently getting ready for another vocal attack. “You mean that’s…? Wow, does she produce a lot of sound,” Frek laughed, he turned around to Reo who by now joined them. “Heh, well she’s definitely not going to get much jamaharon like this.” He turned around to the other side. “By the way, how do you know so well who she is?” he asked Melain with a raised eyebrow. She grinned somewhat sheepishly and blushed slightly. This time you didn’t need any imagination to hear it. With a clearly audible whooshing sound she spun around. Her speed was phenomenal, there was a reason she was known for having the fastest dance moves. Unfortunately Frek had placed his remark in the moment of relative calm. Even more so, she had heard it. The relative calm was soon to end. “I told you we should’ve gotten out,” Melain hissed. “Youuu,” Valentine mooed like a seasick cow. A long thin finger with a long pointed artificial nail polished and painted in bright pink pointed right at him. It was making small circular motions as if to put a spell on him. He had seen it before, he had been so much younger then, he was older than that now. The situation had been a bit different though, involving a haunted mansion, chickens and someone trying to put the ‘evil eye’ on him. “Yes you, antenna-ed blue boy with the skanky chick,” she looked at him through half closed eyes as if that would make her look more dangerous. Actually it did help, she made quite a scary look. “Where’s my baby, my darling!” she continued screeching. She peered at him judgingly, “I know you took him!” “Took what?” Reo wanted to know somewhat astounded. The manger rapidly shuffled over. “Hehe,” he started nervously eyeing from one to the other. “The pet of our honoured guest, Miss Valentine, is missing.” He pulled out a piece of paper. “Perhaps the gentlemen and lady have seen it?” “My god,” someone exclaimed, “What the hell is that?” It got him a furious look from the faded diva. Frek almost had to force himself to look at the beast on the picture. It was an animal alright, with some fantasy one could see it belonged to the felis silvestris brand, but how anyone could love that thing was beyond him. It was a bright orange kind of red and completely bald. Simply said, it was ugly in every meaning of the word. “I’ve never seen anything like this in my life,” Frek said and hoped from the ground of his heart it would be the last time as well. With some forceful persuasion the manager managed to lead her away, accompanied by a whole series of remark and accusations. “I don’t trust that blue one,” she said quite audible to anyone in a ten kilometre radius, “His antennas are too close together, and we all know what that means and that lady of his…” The little group of Starfleet officers stood gathered outside, having fled the lobby. The climbing suns were spreading a pleasant warmth. “That was quite something,” Stephens said, he was followed outside by some elderly couple, “I hope this isn’t the normal course of action.” The somewhat weird looking man that followed Stephens out stepped forward. “John Henry Holliday, PhD, Botanist,” he said, “Final arbiter of all things horticultural.” “Hmm,” Frek said, “Perhaps you can grow the Witch of the East a new cat.” He looked around. He didn’t see Alexis and Danny, they must have left early. Lucky them. With her new career opportunity she had stepped down from her capacity as a Starfleet officer, but remaining on the Nevada heading a prestigious civilian project. Connor Stephens had been assigned as her replacement. They were expecting another addition/replacement to the senior staff, but chances were she hadn’t arrived yet. “So what are your plans?” Frek informed. He stared towards the appealing water, “Beach?” “We still have to get our bathing suits,” Melain reminded him. Frek grinned cheekily. “Or we could find a quiet spot and we won’t need them,” he whispered in her ear hoping the others wouldn’t hear. [155801/1110/1]
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loki
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Registered: Apr 23, 2024 21:47:07 GMT
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Post by loki on Mar 7, 2007 11:50:33 GMT
Somebody was knocking at the door. It was early yet; Lex wished somebody would let them in so that she could go back to sleep. It was nightime, wherever she was, but it was still warm. She could hear the waves lapping in the background; they were near the sea. She snuggled deeper into the pillows: it seemed strange, to have pillows on the beach, but there was definitely a pillow there. A subconscious smile coated her lips; it was nice to have a pillow. The waves gradually grew louder, her head started to sway gently. She was rocking back and forth. Maybe she wasn’t on the beach, maybe she was on a boat. That might explain the pillow, and the exacerbating nausea in her stomach.
“Get up. Get up. Get up.” Danny hated repeating himself, and thought that if anyone had been listening they would have considered him quite mad. He had been talking to Lex’s unconscious form for well over ten minutes now, and had remarkably little to show for it. When she finally did open her eyes a crack, it took a while to remember she wasn’t really on a boat.
“Who was it?” Was the first thing she said.
Danny opened his mouth as if to say something, closed it briefly, and then said, “Who was what?”
“Knocking on the door.” Lex said, exasperated. “Did you let them in?” She sat up and gazed around the room, searching for the person that had woken her up. Danny looked on with mild concern.
“It’s two hours before sunrise; why would anybody be knocking at the door?” He asked her cautiously. Still sleepy, Lex seemed satisfied that it must have been a dream. That, along with the waves and the boats. Shame. Still looking at her through his piercing blue eyes Danny slipped of the bed and tousled with the clothes he was trying to shut in the backpack. It was so close to sealing, he just needed to be more persuasive – if only he hadn’t packed those extra shoes.
“What’s in there?” Lex asked nosily as she pulled on the clothes she had discarded the night before. She decided it was far too early to choose a new set of attire, and if these had looked okay yesterday then they would be alright for today. In answer to her question Danny stooped to pick up another bag, which he lobbed towards her across the bed. She caught it, cushioned it on the mattress and quickly undid the tight toggles. A huge grin smothered her face.
“Chewy bars!” She exclaimed, grabbing one greedily and hacking off the wrapper. She wasted no time in stuffing it in her mouth, thinking she had made a good choice in picking the chocolate chip flavour.
“You’re doing that back up yourself.” Danny said, slinging his own fastened rucksack over his shoulder, and donning his faithful sunhat. He had nearly left it behind on Earth, given the ‘perfect’ weather conditions simulated on Risa, but even though it was currently dark outside, an expedition just wasn’t the same without it.
They set off down the hotel corridor, Lex still struggling to do up her pack. With it being the Risian equivalent of six in the morning, Danny’s intention had been to make a silent getaway. Lex seemed to be having a great deal of problem with the silent part, and almost as much with the ‘getaway’. She was hopping along on an unsteady leg, the other being required to cradle the bag. Between hopping and fastening they weren’t making much progress.
“Do you want me to get that?” He asked finally, between rolling his eyes and holding out his hand for the bag.
“I can manage.” Lex grumbled, tugging it away from him and heaving at the straps. Disdainfully Danny continued down the corridor, wondering if Lex would try and hop down the stairs when she reached them. This was going to be a long day.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The Risian hovercraft was waiting outside the hotel for them, with two local males occupying the front seat. Lex and Danny climbed into either side of the rear one, and shoved their packs into the storage space behind. The hovercraft was really just a glorified shuttlecar, except the conditions on Risa meant that it could have an open-topped roof. Lex wriggled comfortably into the seat and yawned. The planets two moons were still bright in the sky; there were two more whole hours before the sun would come up. That made it time for sleeping.
When Lex awoke for the second time that morning, it was to a scene quite unlike any she had seen before. The sun was up, and they were flying several hundred feet above a sea of brilliant green jungle, that coated the planets surface like an enormous rich blanket. Above the humming of the hovercraft she could hear the sounds of the habitat, a little running water, Risian bird song, leaves and bushes rustling in the gentle breeze that drifted through the still air. Lex twisted her neck around, looking back in the direction they had come. There was no sign of the hotel. In fact, there was no sign of any civilisation for as far as the eye could see. There were just trees, and green, and undulating towans. The hovercraft began to bank steeply, rising up even higher above the world. The land before them was rising with it, and the trees began to climb the steep hills that lay beneath them.
One of the men in the front, whose name Danny said was Ilmack, turned around to them and pointed across the mountain. “You see that ridge down there? That’s where we’re headed, the clearing in the trees.” He indicated. Lex pushed herself up off the seat, edging to see over the far side of the shuttle. She thought she could see where he had pointed; a small patch of brown among the green, about halfway up the incline. From this great height she thought it looked a little like the outline of an animal, maybe the shape of a giant bear. As their descent took them closer, the shape lost all meaning, and soon enough they had touched down and joined the other expeditionists.
“Ikara.” A Risian woman greeted them, stepping forwards and making it known that she was leader of the group.
“Ikara.” Danny and Lex chorused in return, knowing very few other Risian words. The women seemed disproportionately pleased that they had picked up the simple Risian greeting, and beamed at them as though they were both very smart children.
After a while the group set off, traipsing their way down the mountainside towards the dig-point. Lex counted sixteen people in total, including the leader and their two drivers, who seemed to be helping out with the tour. There were various mixed races on board; only two other humans besides themselves, a five-person strong group of outspoken Bolians, two Bajoran males with a female Andorian that appeared to be a little lost. Lex couldn’t help but smile, fancying that Frek would be wearing much the same look if she had brought him along on an archaeological dig. As they walked, Ilmack explained to them how long ago this mountain had been an active volcano, and that explorers had been working tirelessly for years to uncover what they were going to see today. Lex’s walk bounced with excitement, so much so that she thought the momentum might burst open her already tightly strung backpack. From behind Danny watched with quiet content. It made a change to see her so happy.
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connorstephens
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Registered: Apr 23, 2024 21:47:07 GMT
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Post by connorstephens on Mar 9, 2007 17:01:30 GMT
Connor Stephens was completely aghast. Sitting before him was the John Henry Holliday, PhD, Botanist, the foremost scientist and botanist in the galaxy, whose work with orchids was known everywhere. Doc Holliday, the final arbiter of all things horticultural.
Stephens had trouble breathing, much less speaking. But he did manage to squeak out, "It would be my pleasure, Sir," before falling into a reverie of possibilities
As it turned out, Stephens needn't have worried. The great botanist was easily talkative, and easy in his manner. Before Stephens knew it, they were all three engaged in conversations varying widely, from terraforming barren habitats which would become new colonies, to Holliday's new and astonishing technique for inserting protein sequences into plant DNA, making them more vigorous and nearly indestructible, to his particular fondness for orchids, and the remarkable story of his relationship with Mikayla Swarovskivich, now Holliday, which spanned thirty years.
"I was the Dean of the botany department at the University of Witwaatersrand in South Africa," he said, by way of introduction to this newest topic. "As one of my many responsibilities there, I was required to lecture once each week to graduate students, hopeful of being the new guard in the horticultural field. Among the most brilliant of my students was Mikayla Swarovskivich,"--here she blushed and smiled--"and, I must confess, as I have done with her, that I was taken immediately by the professionalism of her work. This would have satisfied me enough, simply being her mentor. But again, I must confess, as I did with her, that there was much more.
"Twenty years my junior, she was. Mid-twenties, strikingly beautiful, "Holliday squeezed her hand which was on the table between us, "and already an accomplished botanist. I could not take my eyes from her, and she knew it, and always smiled demurely when she was in my classroom. And a rainy Thursday it was, mid-term, that she first approached me directly, after all the covert winking and flirting I had done." Holliday laughed. "I was mortified, afraid she wanted to strike me, or tease me for being a dirty old man." Holliday paused, absorbed in the memory. Mikayla blushed, and squeezed his hand more tightly.
Stephens looked one to the other as she continued the tale. Her voice was deep and rich, like fertile soil, and had the hint of Eastern Europe in it, charming to hear. She was very attractive in her self-assurance, and Stephens could easily imagine why Holliday had felt as he had. "I waited until the other students had left," she continued. "He didn't know, of course, that I had been in love with him since the beginning of the term. All of his flirting excited me, but there were dozens of women who hung on him, and every word that he spoke. I quite imagined that I was only a plaything for him, and that, although he took me seriously as a scientist, he probably did not take me seriously as a woman."
Her face was flushed, and as she gazed at Holliday, it was plain enough to see that she loved him greatly. "The rain was pouring down the leaded panes of the windows in great sheets. We were alone at last, and I wanted to make it plain to him how hotly I desired him, not just as a lover, but as a mate. The room was quiet, I could hear his breathing, and the clicking of my stilettos on the old oaken floor. I walked right up to him, staring into his eyes. I drew my arms about his neck, and leaned up to his ear, and whispered, 'You're a brilliant man, Holly.' I drew back, our faces inches apart.
"We had a torrid relationship for two years. It was exquisite, and earthy, and all I'd ever wanted. Holly's reputation grew as his work with orchids was unprecedented. He was called on by StarFleet to be the chief botanist on a science vessel. The chance to explore new worlds was too much of a temptation for him. He signed on to the Ursa Major, promising to return as he could. I took his old job as the Dean of Botany, and Holly sailed off to the stars."
Stephens was both enraptured and confused. They had separated, certainly, but it would only have been for a few years at most. And yet they were just now having their honeymoon? Stephens wanted to ask, and to continue this lovely conversation with this most engaging pair. He also couldn't wait for T'Pren to join them, so that she could hear this story too. She had obviously been delayed arriving to Risa, and he missed her very much.
They were interrupted by a loud commotion outside in the foyer of the hotel. A woman was screeching at the top of her lungs, and a crowd seemed to be gathering. Without a word, the three of them exited the dining room, and went out to see what was happening. Hurrying along, Stephens saw a couple of his crewmates. Commanders Melain and Thelev were there, as were a couple of other officers Stephens had not as yet met. A dilapidated-looking woman, obviously aged and ripened but trying to look thirty years younger, was screaming to anyone who would hear her.
"Where's my baby? You took him!”
“Took what?” Reo wanted to know somewhat astounded.
The manger rapidly shuffled over. “Hehe,” he started nervously eyeing from one to the other. “The pet of our honoured guest, Miss Valentine, is missing.”
He pulled out a piece of paper. “Perhaps the gentlemen and lady have seen it?” he said to Melain and Thelev.
“My god,” someone exclaimed, “What the hell is that?”
The manager produced a piece of paper, a poster of some kind. Emblazoned on it was a picture of a....something...resembling a cat. It was bright red, and bald as a cue ball. Hideous. Stephens had an image of the thing crawling over him as he slept, and shuddered at the thought. But then he happened to look at the screaming woman, and thought to himself that it could indeed be worse. Stephens heard Holliday snorting behind him.
The StarFleet officers left the lobby, trying to get some fresh air. The Hollidays tramped behind, and as The group reached the front terrace, they were warmed immediately by the soft twin suns. “That was quite something,” Stephens said. “I hope this isn’t the normal course of action.”
Holliday stepped forward. “John Henry Holliday, PhD, Botanist,” he said, “Final arbiter of all things horticultural.”
“Hmm,” Frek said, “Perhaps you can grow the Witch of the East a new cat.”
Holliday laughed loudly at that. "I believe the witch will take more than that to appease her."
2263/1129/2
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Deleted
Registered: Apr 23, 2024 21:47:07 GMT
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Post by Deleted on Mar 11, 2007 2:07:40 GMT
Melain blushed and pushed Frek gently away with a faint giggle. Out of the corner of her eye she saw some of the crew glancing in their direction and a wave of nervous energy washed over her. They needed to be careful, really careful, and thus far they had done a rather lousy job at it. “Bathing suites Frek, they are in the room. Can you go fetch them?” she asked, gesturing with her eyes towards a young human who she recognised as being the Nevada’s new Science Officer.
Frek paused, obviously confused. Melain sighed and pulled him closer. ‘I should go greet the new officer, it’s my job.”
“Yeah, but you are on a vacation.” He pointed out, “You work too hard Melain, take some time for yourself... and me.” He grinned.
“Maybe, but this will only take a moment. I’ll wait here.” Melain insisted. Frek paused for a moment as if about to protest, then bounded towards the turbo lift. Melain straitened her shirt out and took a brief moment to examine her appearance in the polished surface of the stair railing. She looked professional enough all things considered. She was presentable, but relaxed and did not look much like a captain. Then again no one wondered around Risa in uniform. She took a deep breath and headed over to the young man, a Lieutenant Connor Stephans if she recalled correctly.
Alexis would be staying on the Nevada, but was no longer a registered Star Fleet officer, she now held a prestigious civilian title which Melain did not entirely understand. This left the ship in need of a Science officer and shortly after her promotion Melain was handed a PaDD containing the files of a verity of applicants. Connor was newly graduated, but stood out from the rest so the choice was not too difficult. Melain still had a collection of PaDDs in her luggage of other officers and enlisted crewmembers. Most of the old crew was staying on board, but the Nevada-B had spots to fill and it was Melain’s job to decide who that should be. She had been perusing the CMO applicants on the shuttle over until Frek convinced her to put the work away and start enjoying herself, which was not a difficult task.
Lieutenant Stephans seemed to be basking in the glow of an older man Melain vaguely recognised. As she approached Connor looked over momentarily, then back at the older man, then, as if realising who she was, he snapped to attention.
Melain laughed.
Connor Stephens' looks wavered a moment, then he relaxed. “Captain, I’m...”
“... On leave. You don’t need to salute me, I just came over to say hello. I am Commander Melain, I was the Nevada’s CMO, however I was recently promoted to her Acting Commander.” Melain explained, “Although from your reaction I can see you already knew that. Things where getting awkward, how was she supposed to treat her crew when they where on leave? What was okay to talk about? Why where they never taught this in her command training? She settled on an innocent. “Who are your friends?”
“Doctor Holliday and his wife Mikayla Swarovskivich.” Connor replied. Now Melain knew why she recognised the older man. She was not exactly a botanist, but her gardener uncle swore by Doctor Holliday as if he was one of the Prophets.
“Doctor Holliday! What a wonderful surprise. I..” Melain hesitated, not wanting to seem childish in front of her crew. “My uncle has every one of your books, he’s a n avid fan and if I tell him I met you and don’t give him your autograph he will never forgive me.”
Doctor Holliday laughed. “We would not want that. Your uncle is?”
“Lorre Benjel, a gardener working in San Francisco, he does a great deal of work for Star Fleet and designed some of the landscaping.” Melain explained.
“all right then, I’ll personalise it.” The botanist scrawled out a message and then handed it over.
Melain took the autograph and read aloud “From one plant lover to another, keep your knees muddy and your thumb green, Holliday.” She grinned. ‘It’s perfect, he’ll love it.”
“Did I hear someone mention autographs!?” A shrill painful voice resounded in Melain right ear. She turned sharply yo see Karin Valentine leaning over her. “You can’t leave without one of mine I assure you they are worth thousands!” the burnt out star thrust a PaDD in Melain face.
“No thank you I...”
“Don’t be ridiculous, here!” Valentine shoved the PaDD in Melain hand. “If you can find my Lil Prince I’ll give you ten more for all your friends.” Her expression changed at the mention of her hideous pet. “Oh my baby! My poor baby! What have you people done with him!?” With that she fluttered away and into the dinning room to spread her terror elsewhere.
Melain held the Diva’s autograph as if it was a snake about to strike. She was sorely tempted to toss it out, but recalled that less then fifteen years ago she stood inline for hours waiting to have Miss Valentine sign something only to be told when she reached the front that the singer had decided to retire for the day.
“I got the swim suites. Yours was hidden under... please tell me that is not what it looks like..’ Frek pointed an accusing finger at the autographs. “You... you got that witch to sign two after she nearly killed me?!”
“NO!” Melain dropped the singer’s autograph as if it had suddenly caught fire. “She thrust it at me, didn’t you see her?”
Frek eyes her suspiciously.
“And the other one is someone else's. A botanist, for my uncle.” Melain’s voice petered off. It was probably not a good idea to bring up her uncle.
“Who also tried to kill me.” Frek pointed out, punctuating his words by waving the bathing suites in front of him.
“Frek, he thought you where attacking me. Let it go.” Melain sighed, slipping the autograph in her day bag. “Come on, the beach will be full soon and I want a good spot.”
(122004/2096/2)
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fthelev
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Registered: Apr 23, 2024 21:47:07 GMT
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Post by fthelev on Mar 12, 2007 21:47:49 GMT
Frek gave her another quizzing look. You never knew. It could just as well be that she found herself a new hobby. Collecting autographs from the people who tried to kill him. Mind you, that was a list steadily growing since he joined Starfleet. It certainly wasn’t something they mentioned at the recruiting station. Adventurous, yeah, they mentioned that. Exploring strange new worlds and new civilizations. The fact there was a reasonable chance you could get killed on them was wisely left out of the introduction talk. After all, who would still want to join if they mentioned there was the odd chance being chased by some maggot ridden zombies on some boggy planet? It explained the excellent healthcare they provided though, and anyway, if he hadn’t got a promotion or a rais, he would have asked for one.
There wasn’t much time to contemplate on all that though. Melain grabbed him by the arm and let the way to the seaside. It was only a short stroll through the lush gardens forming a low buffer between the hotel and the sea, and it was pleasant enough. Stretched out before them lay the lagoon with its shallow bluish green water, the darker patches indicating deeper water more suitable for swimming, or drowning for those who couldn’t. The suns bounced of it, creating an ocean of sparkles. It was a beautiful day, which on Risa of course that’s nothing new. Frek looked aside to the woman at his side. With her near him it would always be a good day.
He let out a satisfied sigh. “This,” he said, “I can deal with without any problems. Nice, care free and no weirdness whatsoever.” Obviously he had already more or less forgotten about the naked red cat or the washed out diva. The sun tickled pleasingly on his skin as he indeed did Melain. “Stop it,” she said giggling and brushed of his hand. “What you think of that spot?” She pointed towards a stretch of beach with loose white sand, half hidden between some rock formations and backed by some grass and trees. It looked perfect.
“Isn’t this great?” he asked rhetorically with a beatific smile. He was lying in the knee deep agreeable water and wiggled his toes in the white sand that formed the bottom, in the air his antennas did about the same. He squinted into the sun, Melain’s well-formed profile clearly contrasted against the clear sky. Melain smiled and splashed him with some water. “Food and being lazy, huh?” she answered teasingly. She gave out a little cry as Frek pulled her legs from beneath her, effectively landing her in the water next to him. A little frolic followed before Frek put his arm around her and pulled her close. “Not just food and being lazy,” he assured her staring her in the eyes, “Being around a lovely lady helps as well.”
Soothingly the warm water rippled over them as he bended towards her, noticing her lips parting just before they met. Almost immediately he pulled back. “What’s wrong?” Melain asked somewhat bewildered. Frek stared at her for a second. “There’s something horrible in the water here.” He gazed into the water again. “What..? Huh?” Melain seemed a bit puzzled, “You’re not talking about me, right?” Frek returned his eyes to her. “Eh? No, of course not.” He gave her a quick kiss. “No, there’s something nibbling on my toes,” he said and peered intensely in the water near his feet and suddenly gave a yell. “There it is again!”
In record speed he was back unto his feet and hopped up and down on his non-attacked foot, from the other dangled a little crab like creature, its claw in a firm grip around his little toe. It swayed to-and-fro as he tried to shake it off, but it wouldn’t let go. “Come on! Do something,” Frek yelled to Melain. Obviously she didn’t quite know whether to laugh or make a rescue attempt. “It’s severing the toe from the rest of my foot!”
But Melain’s intervention was not required. Two young men appeared from behind a rock. She had spotted them earlier talking to Josh Reo who was enjoying himself further up the beach with some other crewmember she couldn’t distinguish from this distance. The tallest one seemed Risan, the other green. “Can we help you?” The green one inquired. Melain stared at the guy and even Frek for a moment forgot the crab dangling from his toe. Both of them were completely bald and wore what looked like comfortable orange robes hanging loosely on their shoulders. However it was not their appearance that caught their attention, no, it was the manner he spoke. His intonation was odd to say the least. He started sentence at a high pitch, dropping low near the end of it, and holding on to the last syllable a second too long.
Frek made another frenetic attempt to get rid of the crab. “It won’t get off. It almost bit off my toe!” The two men shared a look and nodded. “Relax,” the Risan boy stepped forward. “Picture yourself on a calm ocean, floating…about. Imagine…” “I was floating on the ocean when this thing attacked me,” Frek snapped. “Relax,” Risa-boy repeated as Greeny knelt besides his foot. Greeny carefully took hold of the crab and made some circular motions with his fore and ring finger on the creature’s belly, muttering something with a lilting voice. “What’s he doing?” Frek inquired half intrigued and half suspicious. Risa-boy smiled flashing his teeth. “Mesmerizing the crab.”
It may have been a bit unconventional, but it worked. Within about ten to fifteen seconds the fierce, though not too big, hand-sized crab fell loosely in the sand. “It looks far less dangerous like that,” Frek noticed examining the sea-dweller. “Usually they are rather pacifistic,” Greeny educated in his weird speaking pattern. “Hmm,” Frek said, “This one nearly took off my foot.” Melain looked down and suppressed a grin. “Come now, it’s hardly scratched,” she said, “You want kiss for the pain?” “Well…” “Ouch!” Melain poked his side. “It was meant rethorically.”
Frek smiled at the duo clad in orange, and gave Melain a semi-nasty look. “Anyways, thanks for helping out. If there’s something we can do…” The orange duo exchanged glances. “Well, as a matter of fact…” Greeny started beaming. “We sort of have a barbecue party this evening…” Risa-boy continued. Greeny took over again. “If you want to attend the happening…, we were looking around for suitable people to invite.” His friend nodded in agreement. “Yes, who we think could…contribute to the ambience and fit the profile.” Melain looked to Frek and shrugged. “We could take a look,” she said, and gestured towards Reo. “I saw you talking to our colleagues a moment ago as well.” “Colleagues? Aaahh, interesting,” Risa-boy answered, “We extended him an invitation. He seemed interested. You could come together if you like.” Greeny handed over an electronic card. “Here’s the location and a route description. It might be a bit hard to find, it’s rather remote.” “Anhsirk Erah,” they greeted in choir.
Frek’s eyes went from Melain to the two men walking away. “Weird guys,” he said, “but a barbecue is always nice.”
[157012/2321/2]
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joshreo
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Registered: Apr 23, 2024 21:47:07 GMT
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Post by joshreo on Mar 14, 2007 13:53:04 GMT
Josh awoke with a start. He thought that he was late for duty. He hurryingly tried to dress, but he couldn’t find his uniform. Then he saw two suns rising in the sky. He remembered that he was on vacation with his new crewmates. And that they were on Risa!
He put on a pair of khaki shorts, the kind with pockets everywhere, a shirt that looked like it came directly from 20th Century Hawaii, and some sandals. He decided that he would leave the horga’hn, which he picked up last night, in his room. He had only gotten it as a souvenir anyway.
He was starting to make his way down the stairs when he heard a horrible screaming coming from the lobby area. Being a security officer, he rushed down the stairs to find that the person screaming was none other than Miss Karin Valentine, a person that his mom Idolized. He thought briefly that his mom would kill him if he didn’t try and get her autograph, even though she had gotten it herself at least a half dozen times.
So he was making his way towards her, when she suddenly turned to his new XO and pointed her finger at him. She said, “Where’s my baby, my darling!” she continued screeching. “I know you took him!”
Josh then went into security mode again, “Took what?” he asked kind of astonished that anyone would accuse the XO of the Nevada, even though he didn’t look the part yet, of anything.
The manager of the hotel then piped in, “The pet of our honored guest, Miss Valentine, is missing.” He pulled out a piece of paper. “Perhaps the gentlemen and lady have seen it?” “My god,” someone from behind Josh exclaimed, “What the hell is that?” That got a furious look from the faded diva in that direction.
Josh looked at the paper and then said, “I am sorry ma’am, and I haven’t seen it. But then my crewmates,” Josh said, as he motioned to the four of them standing nearby, “and I only arrived last night very late.”
That seemed to appease the diva for the moment, as she left and went off to bother some other guests. Josh looked around the lobby trying to decide what he wanted to do for the rest of the morning. He heard a commotion and someone trying to thrust an autograph into someone’s hand. He looked and saw that Miss Valentine was trying to give his new CO, who apparently didn’t want anything to do with the diva, an autograph. After Miss Valentine walked away, Josh went over and arrived just after Frek, who was upset that Melain had gotten an autograph from someone who he didn’t like.
Josh then stepped in and asked, “Um, I don’t suppose that you would mind if I took that autograph? My mom is a big fan of Miss Valentine’s.”
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Deleted
Registered: Apr 23, 2024 21:47:07 GMT
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Post by Deleted on Mar 15, 2007 3:12:46 GMT
A noise startled Traks awake; looking around without lifting his head from the table all he could see were empty bottles of Bloodwine. “Well that explains why my head feels like a Gorn is tap dancing on it.” “Colonel Traks you are under arrest!” Traks turned his head; with no small effort and began to take in the rest of the bar; or what was left of it. At the foot of the Star Fleet Security Officer was a large Klingon laying on his back with a d’k tagh sticking out of his chest. Traks just looked at him and said; “Then transport me, stun me or leave me the hell alone. Number one I do not know who he is where I am or how I got here and I think I will just go home.” Traks stood up and promptly fell over back wards loosing conscience even before hitting the floor. The next thing Traks became aware of was lying down in a bed with the distinct smell of a Star Fleet sick bay filling head. The headache was gone so he opened one eye and saw a very mad looking Klingon, in the uniform of a Star Fleet Admiral standing at the edge of a force field wall, and Traks was on the wrong side of it. “Oh Feklar, what did I do this time, Sir? “Great that is what I was going to ask you; here is what I know; so far. One you were found next to the Klingon ambassador’s aid with your finger prints on his d’k tagh sticking out of his chest, quite dead. That was 3 days ago you have been missing for 6 days before that. What is the last thing you rember? “I’m not sure anyone will believe me because I’m not sure I do. But as I was beaming up to the America last week I found myself materializing on a Klingon ship but on the wrong side of the looking glass. It seems they wanted some information about the mission I was suppose to be on. But since I have never been through the mirror; so to speak; that I know of I could not tell them what they wanted to know. The best I can figure is that their Traks didn’t do what they wanted him to do and is dead, loose somewhere in our universe, or some other one. One other question; since I am in a medical detention ward, is WHAT THE FRAK IS GOING ON? ??” “Well during your sleep in there you have been convicted of the death of the Klingon only to find out he is from the other side of the mirror as you call it. But there are several unanswered questions and it seems that they may stay that way for sometime. So I have to get you away from here for a while; I will let you decide. You can go back to teaching, as a civilian, or open a privet practice on some colony and play doctor, or you can take a demotion to Major and do some real work for the Fleet where you belong on a Star Ship where you will be making someone else’s life miserable. There are three sets of cloths there choose one.” Looking at the stacks one a shirt and tie, his death dead shirt and shorts, and a Fleet Marine 2nd Lt’s uniform. Traks picked up the T-Shirt and laughed at the saying “Kill em all and let God sort them out.” Below the shirt was a pad with a set of orders displayed on it, which read; Major Traks you are here by assigned to the USS Nevada B. You are to report to your new Commanding Officer Capt Lorre Melain on Risa. Traks looked at Admiral Arok and asked “Risa why would I go there?” “Because the whole crew is on leave there and you need to get to know your new crew mates. You have two hours to before we arrive at Risa where you get off my ship. If you are half as smart as I think you are you will report to your new Co and try to get your life and career back on track. Qapla’. With that Arok turned and walked away. So as Traks stood in the lobby of a hotel on Risa looking at so me wild woman who looked somewhat familiar screaming at people and accusing people of taking her darling he asked himself; what have I gotten myself into?
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connorstephens
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Registered: Apr 23, 2024 21:47:07 GMT
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Post by connorstephens on Mar 18, 2007 14:38:10 GMT
John Henry Holliday, PhD, Botanist, seemed quite pleased when Captain Melain asked him for his autograph. Stephens didn't know it, of course, but the botanical community was one of brotherhood and all-for-one support, no matter where the botanists might be. When she'd mentioned her uncle, and his work on the StarFleet grounds, Holliday beamed with pride, as if the uncle had been one of his successful students. Holliday's wife, Mikayla Swarovskivich, had the same look on her face as did her famous husband.
The pleasure was dashed and nearly stomped flat, however, when the shrill voice of the overripe diva was heard once more, begging, pleading, cajoling and shaming anyone within earshot to take her autograph as well. Stephens was embarrassed, the Captain looked as if she were being forced to eat uncooked insects, and Frek assumed a defensive posture akin to a challenged Klingon. The entire incident was quite unnecessary, but Miss Valentino, or whatever her name was, insisted on being recognized for what she thought she was, however misguided and egotistically blind she actually was. There was a palpable tension under the warm suns of Risa until Melain decided to take the blasted autograph, holding it as she would a warp core about to breach. The insane jabbering woman, pleased at last, then went on her excruciating way, torturing other innocents with her pleas to find her beloved cat, and accusing anyone who didn't bow down before Her Pompous Majesty.
Outside the hotel, where the suns were climbing in the sky, making everything golden and light, the small crowd which had gathered began to disperse. Stephens noticed the the Captain and First Officer Thelev held up swimming suits, smiled at each other and then wandered off toward the beach. Something in their easy manner together suggested a familiarity that was more than merely professional. His thoughts turned to T'Pren, who had been his academy mate on the Hanson, and he wondered if she and he would develop the same kind of closeness and easy familiarity he had just seen with the Captain and first Officer. But he couldn't be sure. She had been assigned to the Nevada, but as yet she had not arrived, and he wondered if somehow she had, at the last moment, been reassigned to another ship. Strangely, for as little time as they'd actually spent together, the thought of her not joining them dismayed him in stronger terms than he would have thought. He really wanted to see her.
The others drifted off in twos and threes, until there remained only Stephens and the Hollidays. The older man regarded Stephens curiously for a moment, but it was the lovely Mikayla Swarovskivich who spoke. "Mr Stephens, will your lady friend be joining you soon?"
Stephens was quite surprised, as he had not mentioned the gender of his companion who had been delayed. The surprise evidently registered on his face, as the younger, more fair Doctor Holliday teased him by saying, "It is very obvious, Mr Stephens, that you miss someone greatly. As you were watching the pretty Captain Melain and her Andorian boyfriend, the look on your face was both pricelessly sad and hopeful. It is a mate that you miss, or a potential one. It is easy enough to see."
Stephens conceded that it was indeed so, but said nothing more of his fears of a possible change in plans. Instead he asked the doctors, "What are your plans, then?"
The older doctor then said, "It is our honeymoon, and we're here for a fortnight. But there's always work to do, and places to explore. As I understand it, there is a rare and beautiful variety of Terran tulip in the forests of this place; we propose to find them and catalogue them and take a specimen or two. For us it is a sort of 'working Holliday." All three of them laughed, and Mrs Doctor Holliday squealed as she placed her arms around her husband's neck. "Holly, my love, that was quite droll." She rolled her eyes in mock disgust, and they all laughed again. At the last, John Henry Holliday, PhD, Botanist, extended his hand to Stephens, and, bidding farewell for the moment said, "We are off into the forests. But we remember our invitation for you and your companion to dine with us. Perhaps when we return, she will be here." And with that, the Hollidays made their way to the shuttle landing pad, ready to make their journey of discovery in the forests of Risa.
Alone again, Stephens considered what he could do. He was by himself in this paradise, which was decidedly the wrong place to be without a companion. But he'd seen some brochures in the lobby announcing various tours and other events to take place on this day specified, and he thought that he would get a look at those before he went back to his room to freshen up and to prepare for the day. He reentered the lobby, now thankfully devoid of the Grand Inquisitor herself, and walked toward the table holding the brochures. But as he walked across the lobby, he heard his name mentioned in the strongest of tones. But it wasn't a female voice. The voice belonged to a towering Hirogen male, complete with a shimmering bow tie and a smallish vest, from which he produced a PADD. Stephens almost choked with surprise and laughter at the sight of this Hirogen male who was apparently the Risa Hotel desk clerk.
He read from the PADD. "Lieutenant Stephens, I am to inform you of the imminent arrival of one Dr.T'Pren. Her ship is now in transit and will arrive in Risa shortly. She specifically requested that you be notified of this, and to be prepared for..." he paused for a moment, clearing his throat, "...a shore leave you will not soon forget." The Hirogen looked at Stephens dully, as if this were the most ordinary of announcements, slipped the PADD back into his vest, and walked erectly and proudly back to his station behind the desk.
What glorious news this was! Stephens nearly whooped with joy, and imagined what she could possibly have meant. She'd be arriving shortly, she owed him a dinner, and as he passed the brochure table, his eye fell upon a small brochure, unobtrusive and barely visible among the other brightly colored announcements. A Barbeque, to be held that very evening. Stephens snatched the brochure from the table.
A perfect way to spend an evening with the enigmatic and lovely T'Pren.
3356/1093/3
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Deleted
Registered: Apr 23, 2024 21:47:07 GMT
Posts: 0
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Post by Deleted on Mar 18, 2007 17:57:36 GMT
*Back post*
Melain looked up from the horrid photo of Miss Valentine, which featured her in a far too tight, far too low cut and far too gaudy dress, to Josh Reo who looked at her expectantly. “Please do!” she thrust the photo into his outstretched hand. “And tell your mother thank you.”
He looked at her slightly confused. “Captain, I think that she will wish to thank you.”
Melain did not bother to reply, but grabbed Frek and steered him towards the exit bound ideally for a place as far from Miss Karin Valentine as possible. -----------------------------------------------------------------
As the strangely dressed rescuers left Melain felt a wave of... fascination. There was something about them, not many people had the ability to relax a crab like that. They probably had excellent bedside manners... there she was thinking like a doctor again. “How is your foot?” she asked Frek, as she continued to stare after the strangers.
“Still a little sore, I think that thing was planning to feast on my toe for a week.” Frek replied as he sat down on a nearby rock to inspect his injury. Melain knelt down beside him and examined the digit.
“Is it just me, or has this toe been through a lot?” It was somewhat discoloured and bare the marks of having been damaged, patched up, damaged, then patched up again.
Frek sighed mournfully. “I lost count, my record might say something.”
“I’m on vacation Frek, I did not bring people’s medical records with me.” Melain replied, as she grasped the toe in one hand. Frek flinched. Melain continued with the straightest of faces. “Although given your track record that may have been a good idea. I think that maybe it needs to be amputated, once it’s gone it can’t give you any more grief.”
“You wouldn’t! I... I need my toe!” Frek protested, yanking the foot away protectively.
“I’m joking hon, I’m not sure I could have a First Officer who walks around in circles.” Melain’s smile deepened, it had been a long time since she had been so relaxed. “Besides, I’m not your doctor anymore.”
“Oh yeah, any news on who that is?” Frek asked.
“I settled on an applicant yesterday evening. Remember I was talking with that Admiral and you kept trying to pull me away from the computer. Really smooth by the way, he wanted to know why I kept disappearing from view.”
“You’re on vacation, he knows that. What did you tell him?”
“That there was something wrong with my chair. I don’t think he believed me though. Anyway, Lieutenant Jr Grade T’Pren graduated with our new science officer. She was studying in science, but has a great deal of medical experience. I think she will fit in very well.” Melain explained. She was somewhat pleased that the new CMO was a little less experienced, she had been the same way when she first joined the Nevada, and this way she might be able to meddle around in sickbay affairs without feeling too guilty.
“T’Pren... that’s Vulcan right?” Frek stiffened slightly, he tended to be a little... illogical, so Vulcans made him slightly uneasy. To be honest they often had the same effect on Melain.
“She’s half vulcan have human. T’Pren Ironhorse, I think that’s a native american surname. I look forward to meeting her, the Admiral said she would be sent over on the next transport.” Melain stood up and wadded back into the shallows signalling that she no longer wanted to talk about their work. “You coming?”
“Are there more crabs?” Frek asked.
“Probably, but I’m sure that last one spread the word on how horrible your feet so they’ll all leave you alone now.” Melain laughed, splashing streams of water up on the shore where he still sat. “We should get some snorkelling gear for tomorrow, I hear the coral reefs here are incredible”
“Sounds like a plan, but today the only thing I want to admire is.....” Frek declared as he lunged back into the water with gusto, tripping over a submerged rock as he did so.
“What?” Melain asked stifling a giggle as she helped him to his feet. “The sand?”
“No...” Frek paused, trying to recompose himself. “You.”
Melain rolled her eyes and pushed him back over the rock with a splash.
(122723/2815/3)
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loki
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Registered: Apr 23, 2024 21:47:07 GMT
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Post by loki on Mar 23, 2007 22:46:08 GMT
A satisfied ache had worked its way up through Lex’s right forearm, and her fingers had long since become numb as they had spent many hours clasped around her tiny, archaeological toolkit. She flicked away the last speck of dirt with a brush the size of her baby finger, and stood back to admire the wall. Any outsider – as several of the group-members practically were – would have considered her three-hour long effort to have been wasted. Lex, however, was extremely proud of and not at all put off by the fact that she understood nothing of the intricate writings and pictographs that she had uncovered within these ancient ruins.
The temple itself, or what the local archaeologists had decided may once have been a temple, had been uncovered only weeks before by a similar group of amateur expeditionists. The statues and artefacts placed within it had been meticulously marked, photographed and recorded, but no-one seemed to have been interested in the caveman-like markings coating the outer walls. The strip that Lex had uncovered spanned about three feet on the wall in front of her, stretching up as far as she could reach towards the cracked roof. Some of the engravings were pictures, with simple ‘words’ and ‘phrases’ etched around them. Others were great hordes of text, painstakingly chipped a piece at a time into the ancient stone-clad walls. These lines of carvings were interspaced at random intervals along the walls, spanned the inner circumference of the building, all three foot wide and just shy of the ceiling.
“This is fascinating…” Danny cooed, as he stepped up behind her and slipped his hands around her waist. Leaning her weight back against him, Lex held up her notebook, into which she had already pencilled several depictions of the rough stone markings. The two Bajoran males were a little more high-tech then the humans, and were rapidly scanning and reproducing holographic images of the writings they had uncovered. Lex smiled, looking down at her sketches. It wasn’t often one got to practise the old-fashioned way, but one Risa, apparently, anything was possible.
“What do they say?” asked the Andorian female, snaking her way up from the centre of the room where she had been lurking for the majority of the trip.
Lex and Danny exchanged looks. “Well, we’re not sure yet.” Lex explained, looking up and down the wall, already trying to decode it in her mind. The Andorian frowned, her antennae creasing in a particularly Frek-like manner.
“Its pretty useless then” She commented, obviously bored already.
“Not entirely.” Danny interjected. “Part of the fun is being able to establish and translate the language.”
“Really.” She sounded unconvinced. Smiling again, Lex unpeeled herself from the young man and began to gather up her vast amount of tools. Taking the hint, Danny made sure his tricorder could pictographically reconstruct a holographic image of the temple and its writings from every possible angle. Although Lex already felt very attached to her hand-drawn representations, it was always helpful to recreate the image in a three-dimensional environment.
“Ok crew, time to get going!” Announced the guide in her annoyingly patronising voice. Their packs bursting once more, Lex and Danny boarded the hovercraft with Ilmack, and were borne away towards civilisation.
Conveniently, they were dropped off merely metres from the bottom of the hotel steps, and traipsed inside under the midday suns. Back in their room, Lex headed for the shower, but Danny decided a trip to the beach was much more what they were looking for. Swimming in the warm, waveless waters reminded Lex of a summer she spent on a colony named Cavot III, back in the days when she was young and care-free.
When they finally hit dry land again, the skin on Lex’s fingers was beginning to shrivel, in that way it always did when you had been in the bath too long. And so they lay down some towels on the sand and relaxed. Danny dug through his backpack, pulled out some ‘shades’ and promptly went to sleep in the afternoon sun. Lex dug through her backpack, pulled out a couple her notepad and a tightly bound book she had picked up in the depths of Risa’s cavernous library, and began to cross-reference her findings.
It was not long before a most inconvenient shadow slid over her work, and she looked up to see the towering form of Frek Thelev silhouetted against the glaring Risian suns.
“’Lo Frek, Melain…” She said lazily, wondering quickly if she should have called her ‘Captain’. The moment passed, however, as Frek bent down and picked up her book in his hands.
“Wow, books. I thought these were extinct.” He said with a grin, before spotting her pencil. He snatched it out of her hands and adored it as though it were something that he had misplaced a very long time ago.
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connorstephens
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Registered: Apr 23, 2024 21:47:07 GMT
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Post by connorstephens on Mar 25, 2007 16:45:43 GMT
Stephens wasn't exactly sure what he should do, at least with the time before T'Pren arrived. He had been told that she was in transit, but more specific information wasn't forthcoming, and he knew full-well that there were sometimes delays owing to leaving late, paperwork snafus, passenger manifests to check, cargo to sort out, those kinds of things. And although he was incredibly impatient to see her--it seemed to him that it had been forever since he'd seen her last, trying to maintain the neutral Vulcan exterior while smiling slightly with sparkling eyes whenever she looked at him--he didn't want to just sit around in the lobby waiting, or go to his room. He felt the need of exercise, and, after considering options, decided that a walk through the Risan countryside might be just the thing.
He'd dressed that morning casually, and if he stuck to the main roads, he figured that his present clothing would do. He didn't intend to go mucking about in woods or near streams, or do any strenuous rock-climbing or anything like that--just a nice little jaunt down the country lanes of this marvelously sedate and beautiful land, taking in the flora and fauna as they presented themselves to him, and perhaps a villager or two, taking a stroll as he was, in unhurried pleasure.
Remembering his conversation previous with the Doctors Holliday, he smiled as he left the main entrance to the hotel, heading west. Such an unusual couple they were, he older and an accomplished scientist, not much to look at but with an easy grace and charm that was the very antithesis of that fustilarian diva, who insisted snarlingly on elbowing her way into the conversations of other people, wailing and complaining about that wretched cat of hers that any other person with even a shred of aesthetic sense would throw away willingly, as if it were a house afire. The other Doctor Holliday, the former Mikayla Swarovskivich, herself an accomplished botanist like her husband, was a sultry one who carried herself with a dignity and a quiet assurance that spoke volumes about her and the relationship she shared with the more famous Holliday. That Stephens was impressed with the both of them went without saying, and he could hardly wait to see them again, this time in the company of T'Pren Ironhorse, herself an aficianado of the lovely green denizens of the landcape. Stephens would be the only one who didn't know anything, which suited him fine. He'd found it quite a thrilling pleasure just looking at T'Pren, and there would be time aplenty for that exquisite pleasure.
He passed through the town limits, taking in the sights of pristine buildings, white and pink and lavender, lit by the morning suns. He thought of his Captain and First Officer, newly acquainted with him, off at the stunning beach for which Risa was most famous, swimming about, enjoying their shore leave, and of Officer Reo, a hearty young man of about Stephens' age, who no doubt was finding his own pleasure and relaxation, far from the scullion Valentine, who voraciously sucked the pleasure from anyone around her, as if she were a misfitted vampire hot for the blood of innocents. The town limits receded behind him, marked by the scenes of playing children, intent on chasing balls and throwing sticks, which the dogs around them would fetch and happily bring back, only to renew the fetching game again with giggles and pettings and murmured words of encouragement.
The vista which opened before him was both simple and grand. The road wound before him, lined by ancient trees which stood rank upon rank as far as the eye could see. At the bases of the trees, in irregular intervals, were flowering bushes of every description, dazzling the eye with their simple beauty, their soft scents lingering in the nose, not letting go until he had reached the next interval, where his senses were once again gently assailed, a pleasing harmony of visual and olfactory delight. He thought to bring T'Pren here, perhaps for a picnic and an afternoon of shared bliss, this time kissing her with her permission instead of the blundering way he had done it at the Academy, where in one stride he'd been transformed from Irish gentleman to Neanderthal beast, the result of an overload of pheromones administered by the Cadet doctor in the vain hope of recovering her truant tribble, which had escaped her care momentarily and turned sickbay on the Hanson into a zoo of darkness, damages and one hot lusty kiss. That T'Pren had forgiven him was gracious, and she'd accepted his offer of dinner to make it up to her and to show that he was a gentleman indeed, not a rump-fed fleecer with little regard for the feminine. He was grateful for that, and though he had desired her friendship before, he was most enchanted by her manner in the aftermath of that one misstep, and realized that friendship was but the beginning of his feelings for her. He hoped soon to enjoy her company once more without the encumbrance of racing hot blood dictating his interactions with her.
A village stood in the near distance, small but with perhaps only a few hundred inhabitants. Outbuildings there were, like the barns of old Earth, with livestock roaming about, horses, cows and sheep, or at least what appeared to be those. Dogs barked, and birds flew overhead in a cacophony of agricultural vigor. Tanned and weathered men worked diligently at their tasks, the women-folk tending to laundry hanging from lines stretched between posts. Children ran and cavorted in a most idyllic way, and it was only then that Stephens noted something missing from the pastoral equation: There were no cats.
Where were the cats?
A fluttering paper caught his eye, caught in the grass beside the road which led into the village. It wasn't a whole sheet, and the very fact that there was paper at all seemed shocking enough. Stephens leaned down to pick it up, the faded writing making it hard to read. It was, or had been, a poster at one time, advertising for a lost cat. "Wanted: The Return of Pamuk to the Ahali Family. Reward." It was all he could make out, but there was a partial picture. It was a black and white cat with deep blue eyes.
Where were the cats?
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Mar 26, 2007 2:33:05 GMT
Melain was, in single word, relieved that Alexis had not called her Captain. Someone at least had the intuition to see that she was not quite keen on the whole promotion thing. Both Alexis and Danny looked tired, which Melain found odd since a place like Risa was not known for making people feel worn out. “What have you two been...”
“Hey Melain, have you ever seen one of these outside a museum?” Frek asked, thrusting the pencil into her face.
“I... Melain squinted her eyes to get the pencil into focus. “Yeah, I had a elementary teacher who had one framed and on his desk. He kept threatening up with it. He said if we kept misbehaving he would make us use pencils and papers to do all our work. I never liked him very much.” she shivered in grime memory of the man’s flushed face, beady eyes and middle aged women like mood swings. “What are you doing with a pencil Lex?”
“Old habit, sometimes the traditional has a certain charm to it.” Lex replied as she lazily sat up and held her hand out for the antique. Frek handed it over somewhat reluctantly.
“Hey, did you guys get a little visit by some funny guys in orange robes?” Melain asked, spotting a nearby flyer pegged to a rather unhappy looking tree. Closer inspection showed it was not nailed or tacked to the tree but stuck to it with an odd gooey mixture, given their non-violent reaction to the crab this did not surprise Melain.
“Funny robes.... No, can’t say we have. Why?” Danny asked, in his sunglasses he looked like he belonged beside Karin Valentine. Part of her posse perhaps, or waiting to enter into some award show standing on a red carpet being bombarded by camera wielding paparazzi and entertainment newscasters with their fake even teeth and carefully preserved youth. He pushed the shades further back on his nose, betraying his inner scientist in a single gesture.
“They are holding some sort of a barbecue tonight, look.” Melain handed them the invitation. Danny scrutinised it, then handed it to Alexis. “Frek and I are going, it sounds like fun.”
“Might be. We’ll think about it.” Alexis replied as she lay back. Melain had not expected an instant confirmation from either archaeologist. After all they where on a holiday and sometimes it was nice not to make plans you felt obligated to fulfil later on.
“Right, well have fun then. See you back at the hotel maybe.” Melain gave them a half energetic wave and steered Frek, whose gaze was still fixed on the notebook, down the beach.
Frek protested. “Hey I wasn’t done....”
“They want to be left alone, just like us. “ Melain replied as she slipped off her sandals. The sand felt heavenly under her feet and she took a moment to let it seep between her toes. “The tourism guide mentioned something about a sea side cantina around here, let’s see if we can find... Rachael!” She cried out seeing a familiar figure make it’s way toward them, an arm up shielding their eyes from the hot sun.
“Ra...Oh, hey.” Frek waved as the nurse grew closer. She had already managed to secure herself a decent tan, but wore a concerned look on her face. “Hello Commander... Captain.”
“Melain will do, we are off duty and I hate the C word.” Melain replied. “What’s wrong Rachael?”
”Tanet’s lost his cat.” The nurse replied simply. “She was in his room sleeping on the bed and after breakfast he headed up to feed her and she was gone.”
“Gone, was the window open?” Melain asked, until now she was completely unaware that the medical technician even liked pets. He always seemed like a rather odd fellow, more interested in the mechanical then the breathing.
“No, the room was sealed shut. Naturally he’s devastated.”
“Maybe she and Lil Prince ran off together.” Frek offered, in a vain attempt to be both humorous and helpful.
Melain rolled her eyes.
“Lil Prince?” Rachael asked.
“Haven’t you seen those ugly posters posted all over the hotel. Karin Valentine’s cat disappeared, she’s absolutely frantic about it. Some ugly red beast that looks like it crawled out of the depths of...”
“Frek, it’s not the cat’s fault it’s been genetically mutilated!” Melain hissed. She noticed that Rachael hardly responded to the diva’s name. Of course Rachael was from Canada, a country north of the United State known for being a little isolated and backwards....
“Either way, something that ugly should not be allowed to breed.”
“Which is ironic, since it’s a stud.” Melain replied. “What does Tanet’s cat look like, I’ll... we’ll both keep our eyes open.” She gave Frek a look that dared him to oppose her.
“Her name is Meeka, she’s still a bit of a kitten, multicoloured and very friendly, a little too friendly I guess.” Rachael replied. “Anyway, I said I would meet him back at the hotel and that was ten minutes ago.” She gave them a curt smile and then rushed off.
“First Lil Prince, and now Meeka.” Melain wondered aloud. “There must be some sort of feline convention going on around here. I’m getting hungry, let’s hunt down that cantina.”
(123599/3691/4)
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tpren
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Registered: Apr 23, 2024 21:47:07 GMT
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Post by tpren on Mar 27, 2007 9:10:26 GMT
As her transport set down on Risa, T'Pren Ironhorse couldn't help but feel a slight twinge of apprehension. Un-Vulcan though it was, she was actually looking forward to seeing Connor Stephens again, and to working with him in a professional capacity aboard the USS Nevada. She took a few deep breaths and used a Mental Discipline her Master had taught her on Vulcan to bring herself back to centre. She was looking much more forward to starting her career as Chief Medical Officer, and to the final stages of completing her medical training. She had completed most of a Medical Degree at the Vulcan Academy of Science, and was only a Thesis away from that planet's equivalent of a full Medical Doctor. On Terra, this would have qualified her several times over, but T'Pren still felt like an amateur. She had no real field experience in the Medical Sciences, and only her Academy training in the Life Sciences, to prepare her for this posting. Her brief posting to the USS Hanson could never prepare her for the many situations she would encounter as a Ship's Surgeon! T'Pren gazed out of the forward viewscreen and contemplated her future. She knew that she would have to rely heavily on the Ship's Counsellor for bedside manner. As a Vulcan, she would be a very efficient medical practitioner, but she was keenly aware that patients who were not also Vulcan would need more than just medicine. They would need emotional support, and that was something that T'Pren could not give. A small part of her hoped that she had made the right decision, and that her training on Vulcan would be enough to enable her to handle herself.
As she disembarked from the transport shuttle, T'Pren noticed a group of oddly-garbed humanoids in a clearing, all dressed in a striking orange. They were preparing some kind of fire pit, and arranging something over it. If she had had the time, T'Pren would have found it fascinating. Whatever they were preparing was some kind of odd ritual, and she was always fascinated by other cultures' rituals and rites. Unfortunately, she was late already, and had to go and meet with Captain Melain and Commander Frek. Then, she could seek out Connor, and find out how he was doing, and see about that dinner...
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joshreo
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Registered: Apr 23, 2024 21:47:07 GMT
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Post by joshreo on Mar 27, 2007 13:45:47 GMT
Josh took the PADD with Ms. Valentine’s Autograph, thanked Melain, even though he could see in her eyes that she really wanted it, and took it back to his room. He decided that he would spend the day at the beach. So he changed into swim shorts and went back into the lobby. When he got there, Ms. Valentine was still frantic over losing her precious. When she saw Josh coming down the stairs, she hurried over to him.
Josh saw her coming and rushed out of the door, into the crowded Plaza. He made his way down the street and toward the beach. When he got there, he decided to sit at one of the bars that were placed strategically along the beach. He ordered something fruity and sat down to enjoy his time off.
Shortly after he got there, a couple of his future security officers joined him and started making conversation. They had introduced themselves had a few drinks and went to lie down in the sun. Shortly after they left, Josh was approached by a couple of strangers, who were both wearing orange robes.
“Greetings,” the green fellow said. The other one, a tall Risan by the looks of him, then said, “How is your vacation on Risa?”
Josh replied, “Well, this morning was a little weird, but I think that is behind me.”
The Green fellow asked, “Do you have any plans for this evening? If not we would like to formally extend an invitation to a barbecue that some friends of ours are having.”
“You know, that actually sounds good, I’ll be there. Where is it exactly?” Josh asked.
The Risan handed him an electronic card. “Here is the location and a route description. It might be a bit hard to find, it’s rather remote.”
“Anhsirk Erah,” they greeted in choir.
They then went down the beach. Josh sat and watched them for a while. The stopped behind a rock, just within earshot of Frek and Melain.
Josh watched what transpired and then decided he wanted to get a look at this ‘remote place’.
He went back to the hotel and glanced around the lobby, to make sure that the ‘Diva’ was not around. He did not want another confrontation with her. He went to his room and saw that a poster advertising the Reward for finding her cat was affixed to his and everyone else’s doors. He tore it down and entered his room.
He changed into some hiking clothes and made his way out of the resort town.
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connorstephens
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Registered: Apr 23, 2024 21:47:07 GMT
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Post by connorstephens on Mar 31, 2007 17:39:01 GMT
Connor Stephens was either cursed or blessed, depending on the circumstance, with Kipling's 'Elephant's Child's' insatiable curiosity. Of course, Stephens didn't go about asking ever so many questions like the Elephant's Child did, at least not the same sort, such as "What is a nose for?" or "Why does my Aunt the Baboon keep spanking me with her hard, hard paw, and my Uncle the Ostrich keep spanking me with his hard, hard claw?" or any of this variety. He might well ask "What are the common roots of Deltan and Vegan languages?" or "Why can't that artless clapper-clawed gudgeon of a diva Valentine carry herself with a modicum of comportment and grace, thus sparing everyone her beef-witted onion-eyed insinuations?" These latter and the like, naturally, were the questions of an astute inquiring mind, which were, of course, what Stephens got paid to ask, and the answers to and applications of which he had been able to advance through the ranks.
Questions of all sorts. Why would he, a Science Officer on a starship--the starship in question not existing for the moment notwithstanding--and his Neanderthal self both wish to kiss T'Pren Ironhorse on her soft, soft lips? When would the same T'Pren Ironhorse alight gracefully on the planet and spend the next fortnight with Science Officer Stephens, his Neanderthal self banished forever as long as he could stay away from pheromone hypospray-wielding crazed-eyed medics? Where were the cats? That was the thing. Where were the cats?
He had been deep in Risan territory, away from the tourist destinations and steeped in the pastoral countryside, among hillock and byre, bramble and hayfield. Wordsworth and Coleridge would have been proud, clanking their Romantic Poetry together in a toast to Stephens' choice. "Would," they would have breathed dreamily, "that all Science Officers--the starship in question not existing for the moment notwithstanding--advance themselves thus into the true heart of the people, among their wagons and ploughs, children and butter-churns!" They might have added, too, something about cats, for all their love of the natural, but then they had not been here before, nor had they--Heaven be praised!!--been forced to listen to the incessant droning of that beetle-faced puncheon who passed herself off mercilessly and tediously as a famed and important personage. Had they been forced to listen to and observe THAT, they would have dropped Romanticism like a hot, hot potato and gone into scullery-maiding instead, starships in question not existing at that time.
But back to the question at hand. Where were the cats? Stephens' inquiring mind wanted to know. He imagined an episode of Terra Tonight, field reporter standing by with the latest, breaking opinion, Farmer Puk of Risa trying to figure out what to do with his sweaty, sweaty hands as he eyed the camera nervously, his fifteen seconds of fame seconds away, the reporter looking slick and professional, as a reporter or preacher would have, intoning in the standard Risan non-dialect that they all used, "Well, Farmer Puk, where are the cats?" and Farmer Puk, feeling a cold, cold chill, answering stupidly, "Uhh...don't know. Ain't got nary'n," in the non-standard Risan dialect that the farmers all used.
It went beyond the pale of reason to think that there were no cats here. There were dogs and horses and sheep here aplenty, or at least what passed for those in this region of space. There were children and saucers and milk here too, and farmers and farmer's wives and hay and snakes and...
Snakes alive! Stephens was brought up short in his scientific inquiry, just as he reached again the outskirts of the city, the dogs having dispensed with chasing the sticks and now gaily fetching the wiggly, wiggly children. Snakes alive! If facts had been snakes, instead of cats, Stephens would have been bitten on his tender, tender ankle and consequently died from ignorance. A Terra Tonight reporter, perhaps the same one, standing by with the latest, breaking opinion from the heart of Ireland, Ballymaloe, let's say, Farmer O'Leary trying to figure out what to do with his green, green hands as he eyed the camera nervously, his fifteen seconds of fame seconds away, the reporter looking slick and professional, as a reporter or Protestant would have, intoning in the standard English non-dialect that they all used, "Well, Farmer O'Leary, where are the snakes?" and Farmer O'Leary, feeling a cold, cold chill, answering condescendingly, "Now what would ye be after askin' that question for? Ye know there's no snakes in the Blessed Isle," in the non-standard Irish dialect that all the farmers used.
Stephens lit up like a Christmas tree. He felt he was onto something, just as he reached the hotel once more. He was thinking hard, putting those pesky facts into place. An hypothesis was just around the dim, dim corner, when all of that vanished in the blaze of a thousand suns. T'Pren!! She was standing on the front portico, watching him move nearer. He forgot all about those darn, darn cats, and the benighted whey-faced visage of Miss Valentine, and that loathsome death-token pet she claimed was a sweet, sweet cat. Stephens forgot everything except the beautiful almost-smiling face of his Academy mate, the one he'd kissed once under duress and extreme captivity to his base, base self. In all of the pleasure of Risa, there was only T'Pren.
Stephens gave her a broad, broad smile. "Hi," he said, as he walked up to her, wanting to embrace her.
"Hi," she said, giggling. Her face blushed, and so did his.
"Doing anything for dinner tonight?" This time there was a smile--a pretty, pretty smile.
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Apr 5, 2007 0:50:05 GMT
Traks decided he had wasted enough time, ' what in the world was the Admiral thinking, I do not do vacations.'
"Excuse me sir can I take your bags and direct you to your room?"
Traks just looked at him and he scampered away. ' I have to quit doing that.' Traks moved to the registration desk; " You have a room reservation for James Traks?"
"Yes sir right across the court yard from the gym. Level will show you, ah where did that boy go?"
" Ah I think I scared him away. I can find my own way thanks."
"As you wish sir, if you need work out clothes they are available in the shop next to the gym."
"These are my work out cloths." With that traks went in search of his room, only to run into two orange robed individuals. The taller one handed him an electronic invitation card.
"If you are free tonight and are looking for fun follow the directions the food is quite good."
Giving them one of his looks did not even faze them so he took the card; " I'll think about it." "Now for a work out a water shower and then see if I have any civilian cloths that will not stand out and see if I can find my new Co.
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Apr 5, 2007 1:11:29 GMT
The cantina was a very very popular place. There was a line to get in so long it wrapped around the building twice. Melain was not impressed and by the growling sounds coming from Frek’s stomach neither was he. “Should we go somewhere else?” she asked, trying to peer over the crowd and get a sense of how quickly it was moving.
“Are you kidding? If the line is this long the food must be good.” Frek replied, Melain was unsure whether or not to take him seriously. When he was hungry, Frek waited for no one. He placed himself in line directly behind a Bolian family with enough children to populate a lunar colony. The youngest of which stuck his tongue out at the Star Fleet officers. Frek returned the gesture and was given a jab in the ribs by Melain’s elbow. “Oww, haven’t you ever heard of the hippopotamus oath?”
“It’s the Hippocratic oath, a hippopotamus is a terran mammal native to the continent of Africa which became extinct approximately two hundred years ago.” The Bolian father replied. “Jerel, Xenozoologist and father of this brood. I believe your mate wished you to engage in a more mature form of behaviour.”
“I...” Melain began, and was immediately hushed by the Bolian scientist.
“My son Hern is not a decent example of such behaviour, you would be better to model yourself after either my daughter Tren or my other son Klep” He gestured to two older children who bowed their heads respectfully. The entire family waited expectantly.
“I...” Frek began, “I...”
“Or perhaps it is in your species’ nature to simply imitate the actions of others. I would not know. If you where non-sentient I probably would.” Jerel chimed in he was holding yet another child who was sleeping in his arms.
Melain suddenly felt a foreign and unwelcome hand on her head. “You know dear, I’m not sure that cut looks very good on you. I can even it up a bit, add some colour....” She jerked away and turned to see the female, and mother, Bolian beside her. “I’d do it for free.”
“I don’t let anyone but a professional near my hair, I’ve had far too many bad experiences.” Melain replied, startled. She reached one hand up to her hair and stroked it possessively recalling botched cuts performed by her mother back when she was in elementally school.
“I might as well be a professional dear, I trim up this troop every month.” The Bolian mother boasted. Melain looked at the family and could not see a hair in the bunch. Granted, some Bolians had hair, but not these ones. Perhaps having more children then fingers addled the brain.
“Melain, I just remembered that we where going to meet the others for lunch.” Frek insisted, grabbing Melain by the arm and pulling her out of the line up. Once they where out of earshot he spoke again. “No food is good enough to make me stand behind that for an hour.”
“Agreed.”
They headed back up the hotel not entirely sure what there was for food, but certain they would find something. As they walked by a tall wall covered in posters advertising various events Melain spotted a great deal of “lost cat” signed that seemed to have been put up rather recently. What was going on?”
“Look, another advertisement for that Barbecue, I’ll bet there is going to be a big crowd.” Frek said, pointing to a a large poster that resembled the invitation in Melain’s bag. “I hope they have enough food.”
“If not I’m sure they’ll get the crabs to help.” Melain replied, still pondering the lost cat signs. She had a cat when she was younger, it was neglected as soon as she began to study for the Academy.
“Huh?”
”Captain Lorre!” A voice resounded across the plaza. Melain looked around and spotted one of the Admirals who had shaken their hands during one of the many ceremonies. Instinctually she took a step away from Frek and stood tall. “Admiral Hayes, I hadn’t realised you where on leave.”
“I’m here celebrating my wife’s fiftieth birthday, a dreadfully big family affair. I trust you and your crew are enjoying yourselves?”
“We are, It’s been along time since the Nevada crew has had time to relax.” Melain replied. “This is Commander Thelev, my first officer.”
“I know, I know.” The Admiral nodded, not even looking towards Frek. Melain was instantly puzzled, why had the Admiral greeted her and not Frek? Certainly there would be some among StarFleet command who did not support their promotions, but Admiral Hayes did not seem to be one of them.
“Timmy!” A petite women with a garish sun-dress called out from a group of tables being occupied by similarly dressed individuals
“Coming dear!” Admiral Hayes called back. He turned back, an exasperated look on his face. “Duty calls, see you around Captain.” With that he trotted back to his wife and her family.
“Poor fellow, I’d rather go up against the borg then that group.” Frek commented as he dodged a jab from Melain’s elbow. “Isn’t that the new Science officer?” Melain followed his gaze to the hotel portico where Conner Stephens was standing a love struck look on his face. He appeared to be greeting a Vulcan women who looked rather familiar.... Melain sought back in her memory and landed on the file image of T’Pren Ironhorse, the Nevada’s new CMO. “And that, I believe, is our new doctor. Perhaps we should go say hello, I’m sure you’ll be visiting her a great deal.”
“Did it ever occur to you that all my visits to sickbay had nothing to do with being gravely injured?” Frek asked, sidling next to her.
“Frek, you practically write a will every time you get a sliver.” Melain rolled her eyes. “I don’t mind you visiting the new CMO, as long as it’s only for treatment. Let’s go say hello.”
Maybe we should wait. After all we don’t want to... interrupt anything.” Frek advised. Melain saw logic in his point, which surprised her. Instead of walking up to the new crewmembers they hung back awkwardly hoping to be noticed.
(124634/4726/1)
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joshreo
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Registered: Apr 23, 2024 21:47:07 GMT
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Post by joshreo on Apr 9, 2007 13:56:19 GMT
Josh had been walking for about half an hour. He was enjoying the scenery. This part of Risa was very similar to his trips to the Rocky Mountains on Earth. He stopped at a waterfall and sat down to enjoy the view. It almost seemed as though time would stop for him there in that moment.
Ten minutes after he stopped, he could hear a small group of people walking up behind him. He turned and saw that the group included his CO and FO. He decided to wait for them.
A short time later, the group came upon the waterfall. "Good afternoon Captain," he said and then nodded to Commander Frek, "Commander."
<Melain and Frek, also any of the others that might have decided to go with the Captain>
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connorstephens
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Post by connorstephens on Apr 12, 2007 21:47:24 GMT
Myron Smillie was what could be properly called a 'popular horticulturist.' By this it is meant that his professional life was spent encouraging and enabling ordinary non-botanists to have flourishing and eye-popping gardens of which they knew not the first thing. It was a staple of British television, and had been for several centuries. It also meant that darng himself was not the greenest botanist around, at least in the Holliday sense--he had never published in the professional journals, which were the measure of scientific inquiry--and in the eyes of the Federation scientific community, Smillie was regarded as an upstart and a blight upon the profession.
Unlike most TV horticulturists, however, Smillie did have one claim the others could not make--inside his greenhouses grew some of the most spectacular specimens of orchid the European community had ever seen. There were hundreds of varieties he had personally seen to and brought about. In this way he rivaled, albeit in a small way, the work of the great John Henry Holliday himself.
He could not know, of course, how much this accomplishment would make him the rival of the great Holliday in other areas, as well. Although he fancied himself quite the ladies' man, he was not quite prepared for an interlude in which his stem would become woody and he would be overwhelmed with fertilizing by the sensuousness of another great botanist, a Holliday protege, Mikayla Swarovskivich.
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Mikayla Swarovskivich, PhD, Botanist, had labored for a number of years as the Dean of Botanical Sciences at the University of the Withingyersrand, in Johannesburg, South Africa, when she'd first heard of Myron darng and his wonderful orchid greenhouses. Already in love with Holliday, of whom she had been a student, she'd assumed the post when he decided that the galaxy was calling and peremptorily left her and his life's work to pursue a jaunt or two in space. "It's just a few years," he'd said, reassuringly, not knowing of the fascinating things he'd discover, or that the few years would turn into ten and then twenty. It was terraforming, at first, which bored him silly, until he was rescued by the Federation's military and exploration arm, StarFleet. As a civilian, he found a home aboard one of the latest ships of the line, a Sovereign-class vessel based in the Eratis system. It was there that he made his greatest discovery--and it was also there that he realized that when he'd left Mikayla, he'd left his heart behind.
She, for her part, remained loyal to him and his promise for as long as she could. But she was Russian bone, Russian flesh and Russian heart. A Russian woman of a deep sultriness that could not be hidden. Though her work was fulfilling in every conceivable way, her personal life was not. Men of every stripe, every niche, every profession, leered at her, desired her, determined to possess her. Her supervisor, a Dr Cope, made it plain that she would do well with him as his consort. He was so quickly despatched that he had barely time to get out of the door before it closed on him. Her gardener suddenly wanted to show her everything, and he was soon shown the unemployment line. At a coffeehouse one evening, on her way home from work, she was joined at table by a suited suitor, immaculate in white, who, after whispered nothings to her, found himself a stain-suited suitor with the fresh glow of coffee-burned skin for his trouble.
So, though armed with love for John Henry Holliday, PhD, Botanist, she gradually wearied and despaired of his imminent return, and in so doing, opened herself for fulfillment in her personal life. Despatchings grew tiresome. Suitors, suited and otherwise, became more alluring as the years passed by. She wasn't getting any younger, as they say, and by the ripe old age of thirty-six, she determined that she'd had enough of the celibate life, and of waiting for Holliday, and rejecting every man who looked her way.
She'd heard of Smillie by way of his reputation in the orchid business, and had occasion one fine spring day to contact him about something that had been puzzling her, namely the controversial root-propogation method of raising orchids in the wild. He was gentlemanly, he was, said he'd heard of her too, and after a time, suggested they meet to go over this very thing. He was flattered at her acceptance, she was grateful for a venue in which she could let herself go and perhaps show him a new meaning of 'greenhouse effect.' A date was set, arrangements made, and after the slow passage of time in which a glacier could have developed, she found herself at Heathrow, looking in to the eyes of one Myron Smillie, popular horticulturist and man about town, ladies' man deluxe and no match for her.
His eyes bugged, her beauty was unmatched. His hair stood up, her touch electric. His voice squeaked, her presence overwhelming and making him feel like a schoolboy. His conversation faltered, his knowledge like a water drop in her thousand oceans. He could have been an 'ostler, she was a queen. He wanted to cry and seek out his Mummy, she wanted to cry and seek out Holliday. And it was then that she knew why she loved Holliday the most--he was the only one in the galaxy who challenged her, who knew more than she, who made her viscerally alive. Twenty years wasn't so long to wait for THAT. She'd returned to Johannesburg and waited for the day when her love would return to her, despatching all the way. 6268/945/6
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davidramsey
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Registered: Apr 23, 2024 21:47:07 GMT
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Post by davidramsey on Apr 16, 2007 10:35:13 GMT
David sighed as he skirted the frantic pop star and the crowd of managers attempting to appease the boisterous woman. He wasn't exactly intent on sticking around the lobby all day, but in the mean time, he wasn't sure what else he'd like to do. It was the first time in a rather long time that he'd been fully conscious, uninjured, and well rested. It was almost a foreign experience.
David closed the door to his room and pulled his shirt off and stretched for what felt like days. He was still a bit sore, but a part of that was from his morning run on the beach which was somewhat more satisfying than the bruised, "had-to-sleep-in-a-tomb" kind of sore he'd become used to. He looked vaguely at the stack of PADDs near the window and sighed. He'd been onboard the Nevada for several months and had gone through quite a lot and yet, he hadn't even touched an OPS console which was a real liability once they got their new ship. OPS was a position where practice really does make perfect and not having been on the job for months was like a death sentence. So ... he'd have to review everything. It was depressing, but that was the price he had to pay for letting his ego choose his specialization instead of his common sense.
Suddenly, he saw something out of the corner of his eye. It was red and fast. For a moment he considered whether or not it was some hallucination or perhaps a part of his sadistic psyche. Some part of him that relished tormenting him as some sort of vengence for all he'd put his mind and body through in the last few months.
He moved into the next room and looked around, but didn't see anything hairless or red.
He let out a quick sigh of relief before his mind was once again consumed with what he'd like to do for the rest of the day. He could swim, or meet someone, maybe gamble, drink, maybe even meet someone, or even just chill out on the patio ... and meet someone. It was rather annoying, the loneliness that came with the job. Everyone seemed to have someone. He didn't even have a temporary "someone". How depressing.
"Well, I can either sit in here and mope about it, or do something," he said to himself.
He turned around and headed for his closet.
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Half an hour later he stretched out on a deck chair with a pair of shaded glasses he'd bought in the Hotel store. He wasn't in too bad of shape considering the hell he'd been through. He wasn't quite as tan as he once was, but with just his glasses and swim trunks on he hoped to remedy that. He sighed and closed his eyes as the sun's warmth caressed his body and brought him a feeling of complete relaxation that was almost alien.
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Deleted
Registered: Apr 23, 2024 21:47:07 GMT
Posts: 0
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Post by Deleted on Apr 17, 2007 2:35:43 GMT
Melain’s momentary concentration on the fledgling courtship of Connor and T’Pren was interrupted by a slight familiar voice. It was Josh Reo, the new tactical officer. Melain had yet to feel she had got to know the human. She never gelled well with tactical officers, or marines. As a CMO they had always given her more work and she was a strong believer that most conflicts could be resolved without resorting to violence. Of course now that she was a Captain she would have to accept that a sweet word and a compassionate touch did not always work. Who’s idea was it to promote her? Why had she accepted? Then again the other choice was pretty much being assigned to another ship and she could not bare the thought of being separated from the rest of the crew, or rather one in particular....
“Umm, Captain did you hear me?” Josh interrupted.
Melain snapped back to reality “Yes, sorry Commander my mind just wondered for a moment. Please call me Lorre, we’re not on the clock right now.”
‘The clock mame? What clock?”
“Never mind, and old earth saying my Uncle used to use to embarrass me. Our you enjoying the resort? I don’t suppose you’ve come in contact with a Major Tracks? He’s the new marine officer and I suspect you two will be working a lot together. I haven’t spotted him myself, mind you I’ve been a little busy.”
“I haven’t seen him, then again I don’t know what he looks like.” Josh replied.
“I’d try the gym, if he’s anything like the other marines I’ve come across he’ll be there.” Melain smiled, she glanced over to Connor and T’pren, it was still not a good time to interrupt.
“Hey Melain, it’s almost time for that barbecue. We should get dressed into someone a little drier.” Frek pointed out. He was right, time was sure flying fast. “Did you get an invite for the barbecue?” Josh nodded. “Guess we’ll see you there.”
Frek led Melain up into the lobby and toward the turbo lift. “That was rude.” Melain scoffed.
“Can’t blame me if I want you to myself.” Frek replied with a grin. “He was just sucking up to the CO anyway.”
“Hmmm.”
“What? Don’t tell me your having second thoughts hon. Isn’t this what you wanted? I mean who does not want to reach the top like this, and so quickly...”
“But at what cost Frek? I don’t know what I’m doing, I feel like a very small fish out of water....” “You’ll learn, the admirals are all aware of how inexperienced you and I are. I guess they see potential.” Frek insisted as the door to their room opened. They where both using Frek’s room. Melain’s was officially down the hall. She had yet to set foot in it. “Your worried about us getting caught aren’t you?”
Melain bit her lip and nodded. Starfleet could get pretty uptight about inter-crew relations, especially between those in command. “We have not been very good at um... hiding our feelings for one another. I would bet Bajor that Alexis knows, David knows... Things where a lot better before the ship exploded.”
“Yeah, that would make sense. I can’t see an exploding ship being a very good thing. Unless it’s klingon and had it’s phaser cannons aimed up your...”
“Frek, I’m being serious!”
“So am I, I can think of one ship that has a married couple in command.” Frek countered. “We can do this.”
Melain rifled through her bags to find something suitable for the barbecue. “That’s different, they are experienced. I don’t think I could choose between you and Federation protocol.”
“Heh, that’s reassuring.” Frek smiled half heatedly. “So what are you going to do? March up the Magellin and tell him to find someone else to take command?”
”No.” Melain sighed. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
“I’ll tell you what I’m going to do. I am going to relax, enjoy this well earned vacation, the company of a beautiful women and not think about it. Let’s cross those bridges when we come to them. How's this?” he held up a brightly patterned button up shirt.
“So hideous it should be outlawed in every quadrant.” Melain laughed. “Please don’t tell me you spent money on that.”
“No, it was a gift... from my aunt... who is colour blind.” Frek shoved the shirt back in his bag. “I would be easy to find.”
“Hmm, maybe they should have tied strips of that to the tails of the cats.” Melain added thoughtfully. “
(125398/5490/2)
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connorstephens
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Registered: Apr 23, 2024 21:47:07 GMT
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Post by connorstephens on Apr 18, 2007 17:39:22 GMT
When Stephens saw T'Pren standing on the portico in front of the hotel, his heart gave a little leap at the pleasure of her presence here. In fact, he had not felt like that in a long, long time, and he was surpised at the strength of his---how could he say it?---desire to be with her, to just simply observe her, taking in the nuances and shadings of her expressions. He was quite taken with her, and as he arrived to within touching distance of her, he stopped and noted the smile on her face, quite pretty on her, but most un-Vulcanlike. But he knew that the joyous, emotional hot blood of the Native American was a part of her heritage, and though he respected deeply the Vulcan heritage in her, he was thrilled that whenever he was near, the joy of her pleasure won out and shown through as brightly as the twin Risan suns.
They did not embrace, though he dearly wished to do that, but, still embarrassed about the way he had 'handled' her in the sickbay aboard the Hanson, he restrained his desire, preferring the decorous over the physical, at least for the time being. She was full of news, detailing why she had been delayed, where she had been, and expressing regret that he had had to worry that she might not come at all. She promised to make it up to him, which thrilled him again, and set his mind to thoughts of sweet kisses with her, voluntarily this time, unlike the brutish one he had taken from her before. He told her where he had been this day, rambling about the countryside, taking in the lush vegetations and simple charm of the pastoral Risa that few would consider as a holiday destination, given Risa's other charms, but which he found delightful in its simplicity and unhurriedness.
The conversation continued, but with more pauses than words. They exchanged meaningful glances with each other, and were in fact in the midst of one such deep looking into the eyes of the other that they were at first unaware of the presence a few meters away of Lorre and Frek, the CO and FO respectively of the new Nevada, and their superior officers. To Stephens' amusement, he found it impossible to draw his gaze away from T'Pren, even though decorum dictated that he at the very least acknowledge their presence. It amused him more when he heard their whispering with each other, and he was just as sure that T'Pren heard it as well, as the two officers withdrew, leaving Stephens and T'Pren alone in their little world once more.
As the day grew later, they came somewhat to their senses, and, knowing about the barbecue at the beach, they determined to get changed, with new clothing fitting to the excursion. They agreed to meet again in an hour's time, in the same place where they now stood, dressed for the beach and for a cook-out that they'd both enjoy, making provision for blankets and windbreakers, should the evening grow cool.
They entered into the hotel together, got into the turbolift and left for their own rooms. At parting, T'Pren had taken Stephens' hand and squeezed it warmly, flashing a radiant smile as she walked off to change her clothes and to prepare for an evening together. Stephens skipped along the corridor, singing to himself, all glow and smiles at the direction his life had taken. 6850/582/7
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davidramsey
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Registered: Apr 23, 2024 21:47:07 GMT
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Post by davidramsey on Apr 22, 2007 21:25:31 GMT
David wasn't sure exactly what it was that shocked him awake. It could have been the splash of cold water on his chest or perhaps the intense pain that radiated through his body from the epicenter of that splash. He shot up and nearly cried. It was dark now, it seems it had been for quite some time. He'd fallen asleep in the sun, without nearly enough sunscreen and the whole front of his body was on fire. He pulled off his glasses and gingerly got to his feet. He hobbled around his deck chair pitifully and wondered where the water had come from.
He looked around and realized that it was, in fact, starting to rain. At first, this was a welcome dilema considering his whole front side was preparing to mutiny; however, when the torrential downpour began David realized why the initial water splash had been so painful. He was surrounded by a blizzard of water and his body temperature plummetted. Even though he could feel that the water was actually rather warm as it touched his back, his whole body was racked by intense chills and he near fell over trying to protect himself.
Eventually, his feeble mind managed to work out that he had to get out of the rain or he was going to die from exposure and sun poisoning. He all but clawed his way through the rain to the hotel. He staggered inside and hit the floor in a puddle of water.
He felt someone turn him over and saw a rather large blur waving frantically over his head, but David himself had officially checked out of the hotel and was circulating the planet at supersonic speeds.
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"Mr. Ramsey?"
"Grr, umph ..."
"Mr. Ramsey?"
It was a female voice, a rather lovely female voice at that. Unfortunately, David was in no particular condition to appreciate that. He grumbled a bit more and finally opened his eyes. There was a woman standing over him with long blonde hair, blue eyes, and the barest hint of klingon heritage. It was a strange combination and yet, a rather welcome deviation from his previous dream of being burned alive by rain.
"Am I dead?" he asked meekly.
"No," the woman replied with a smile, "Though, I have to admit, you did put yourself in a spot of trouble."
He attempted to sit up and felt his whole chest scream in protest. She pushed him back gently as his face contorted in fiery pain. He whimpered and closed his eyes.
"Sorry, Mr. Ramsey, but we couldn't treat you for the sunburns until we were sure you would recover from the temperature shock," she said calmly, "Just rest for now and I'll have those sunburns healed in no time."
David peered over at her as she stood up and walked toward a medical control panel near his bed. She pulled what looked like a hypospray from a tray and started back toward him.
"That's ok, mystery doc ... I don't fancy sleeping anymore," he said.
"I'm Dr. Fernier and this isn't a sedative," she replied calmly as she ran the instrument over his arms, a faint mist covered his irritated skin.
At first it was so cold he wondered if he'd lapse back into a coma, but gradually as she moved to his chest, he realized that his arm felt much better, in fact, it seemed to have healed itself.
After a few moments of treatment, David was able to sit up and treat the burns on his legs himself. Dr. Fernier was busy with another patient, who seemed to be protesting. Once he felt he could stand, David hobbled off the bed and made his way toward the doctor to see if he could help.
"Miss Valentine, please! I can't do anything about your cat, I was told you were having an anxiety attack and needed treatment," Dr. Fernier said for what may have been the third time, "Now, I need you to calm down so I can administer your medication."
"No, I don't need it! I am not crazy! I don't need any medication! Get off me you misshapen excuse for a physician!"
David was almost shocked that anyone would speak that way to someone that could kill you and make it look like an accident; however, he was a bit impressed with how well the young doctor dealt with it.
"Now, Miss Valentine, you and I both know that you need this medication to sleep," she said softly, "I have given it to you several times this week on your regular doctor's orders."
Before Valentine could issue another barage of denials and insults, Dr. Fernier injected her with the hypospray. The effect was almost instant, Miss Valentine smiled and suddenly hit the pillow. Dr. Fernier stood up and sighed. She turned around and nearly jumped three feet in the air.
"Mr. Ramsey! I thought you were still laying down!" she gasped with her hand on her chest, "you scared the life out of me."
Then she looked at him again and just barely stifled a laugh.
"You were wearing glasses, weren't you?"
"Yea, how did you know?"
She grabbed a mirror from the counter near Miss Valentine's bed and flipped it up at him. He was tan, very tan, everywhere but around his eyes. He glared at himself and sighed.
"Eh, this just adds flavor to the embarassment, doesn't it?" he mumbled to himself.
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