Commander Stragey stood at attention in the briefing room and mentally began counting down the seconds until the impending response from his captain emerged, it was not a long wait. Seated acrossed the table, Captain Hayden quickly looked up from his padd and asked simply, "Is this some kind of a joke, Commander?"
"No, sir," replied Stragey. Hayden returned to studying the padd once more, and began slowly shaking his head.
This promised to be an interesting conversation, Stragey decided. First off, a random crewman had comitted a minor infraction, one which required that he be disciplined. Normally, this wouldn't have been a serious issue. However, the offending crewman obviously didn't take the lesson to heart because the Quartermaster assigned to the task was now lying in sickbay, with the crewman now looking at a general courtmartial.
To make matters even worse, the Excalibur had put in a requisition for additional duty officers. Even though this selection was completely random, Stragey knew the captain was hoping for additional personnel for the fields of Security and Medical in particular. What Starfleet Command had sent them in return left much to be desired to say the least.
"FOUR civilians?!" Hayden asked incredulously. "Two entertainers, a bartender and...what the hell is this: A refugee?! What the devil is wrong with Command?"
"We did get a new science officer," Stragey offered helpfully.
Hayden slapped the padd on the table and looked his First Officer straight in the eye. "We got a lab technician, Bob," he corrected. "A damned 'lab technician', no specialty even LISTED in their file. I ask Starfleet Command to send us some new officers and instead they me send all the personnel I need to open my own bar on Deep Space 9, complete with the poor devil who lost everything and is ready to drown his sorrows. They literally couldn't have shipped us anyone more useless."
"Agreed, sir," said Stragey. A few moments passed and then he added, "Shall I inform them that you'll be meeting with them for the standard 'welcome aboard' or shall I simply escort them to the nearest airlock and be done with it?"
Hayden allowed himself a small smirk. Stragey's attempts at humor were far and few between, and the fact that he chose this moment to attempt it, Hayden knew, was his First Officer's way of agreeing whole heartedly with him while at the same time saying, "Don't phaser the messenger."
"All right," said Hayden, conceding defeat. "Inform the new arrivals that the "Captain's Welcome" is scheduled for 1100 hours tomorrow. But make a note to request another group of officers the moment Command has some to spare."
"Aye, sir," said Stragey, "Are we keeping the new arrivals, or should I assign them to temporary quarters?"
Hayden picked up the padd once more and studied it for a third time. "Oh hell," he said at last, "Add them to the permenant roster. Who knows? Maybe they'll come in handy down the line. If nothing else, we'll have some fresh entertainment for the rest of the crew to enjoy. Dismissed."
Stragey nodded and headed for the exit, noting that Hayden was still shaking his head and cursing to himself as the doors hissed shut. Only after he was a good thirty feet down the corridor, did Stragey allow himself to begin to chuckle. By the time he reached the turbolift, he had tears in his eyes.
LOL, I never looked that close at the DOFF-s, but now that you mention it, it is indeed hilarious that all those losers are stuck on one spaceship. I have 3 barkeepers on one ship LOL.
The OP forgot to mention that some of these useless crewmembers are glowing green, blue and purple.
ROFL!!!
"Welcome aboard Admiral. Allow you to present my duty officers. They generally work together, and have earned the nickname 'Disco Crew' due to their shiny colours."
These fine up standing members of my crew were obtained using the standard recruitment mission at Starfleet Academy, not the C-store. So EVERY one of these fools was of common quality.
In short, I didn't even get a good bartender. :mad:
=================================
USS Kindjal, Outside the Bolarus System
=================================
Captain James Corgan, after reading the after action report, dropped his PADD in disgust. He paced back and forth across the ready room, alternating his withering gaze between the floor, the aforementioned PADD, and the three crewmen standing at rigid attention, waiting for his response. All three crewmen were covered in bruises. One even had his arm in a cloth sling. All were noticably nervous.
"So let me get this straight." James Corgan grumbled, a hard stare at the highest ranking non-comm, urging the crewman to adjust his stance even stiffer and straighter out of fear, "I assigned your team to beam down to Bolarus to take care of a civil dispute."
"Yes sir." Coughed the non-comm, his lips moved to show missing teeth.
"And you beamed down to talk to the peaceful protestors at the capital city..."
"That is correct, sir."
"The peaceful protesters."
"Yes sir."
"The peaceful protesters that actually wanted to talk to us."
"Yes sir."
"And the same peaceful protestors who wanted to do nothing more than to state their grievances and be heard, correct?"
"Ummm... yes sir."
"Ok, we have that straight." James said with eerie calm.
Captain Corgan returned to his pacing, one lap back and forth from before stopping with a snap of his feet. He retrieved his PADD and took another glance.
His face turned instantly hostile.
Captain Corgan barked viciously, "And yet you stooges managed to turn a peaceful protest on a normally docile Federation member world into a scene from DANTE'S FREAKIN' INFERNO, complete with a full blown riot, looting, destruction of property and the destabilization of the local freakin' government!"
The non-comm peeped, "Yes sir."
"And then on top of that, somehow, without having anything in your psyche profile to indicate that you idiots were aggressive or unruly, managed to incite said angry mob of formerly peaceful protesters to attack the entire away team, putting two in the MORGUE and the rest of you in the damn SICKBAY!!!!"
The non-comm hesitated to respond, "It is as you stated it, sir."
James snarled, "It is as I stated it... no kidding! Honestly, I thought this assignment was so simple even a team of academy washouts could do it, but instead I picked you guys under the false assumption that you could all handle it. Seriously... I have to ask... what the hell could you guys have possibly done to kick off such a monumental SCREWUP?!"
He waited a moment, unsure of what to say. When he did speak, the non-comm was sheepish, "Maybe it was something we said to the protestors?"
James pivots and stops in front of the non-comm, a finger thrust at his face, "You could have called a Klingon a coward while doing unspeakable acts to his pet targ and still not turned the situation as bad as THIS!"
Captain Corgan threw his hands up in the air, tossing his PADD away to let it clatter into his seat, "You know what, fine. You'd all be transferred to the Breen Embassy by now, but the Ambassador over there told me to stop sending my rejects over there to fill up his staff! You are all confined to quarters. DON'T TOUCH ANYTHING until I find a suitable Class Y planet with a functioning Federation Embassy to drop you into! DISMISSED!"
====================================
USS Kindjal, En Route to the Traelus System
====================================
"...and that leave the gaseous anomaly scan in the Traelus System. I recommend Ensign Smith for that task."
The usually acerbic Vulcan, one Commander T'lan and first officer of the USS Kindjal, broke form by offering her suggestion with precautionary air, one which Captain James Lionel Corgan picked up quickly.
"Wait a second." Captain Corgan put down his PADD and looked T'lan directly in the eyes, "That particular task needs a specialist, and the last I checked Ensign Smith couldn't find an anomaly even if we stuffed him in a quantum torpedo and shot him towards it."
The placid Vulcan replied, "Sir, Starfleet Command deemed that reassigning an actual Astrometrics Scientist to our starship was not a proper use of personnel. Until they deem it necessary for us to have one, we will have to make due."
James groaned, "You're right. Assign Ensign Smith. He has a Ph.D in Geology. Surely he can figure out how to operate an instrument panel. What's the next assignment?"
T'lan checked her PADD and announced, "Next, we have to find qualified crewmembers to entertain some foreign dignitaries on our ship."
James answered without pause, "Send the twins."
T'lan raised a sharp Vulcan eyebrow, "The Orion twins?"
James replied, "Yes."
"The Orion Slave Girl twins."
"Did I stutter? Yes. Send the Orion twins. They're the best Diplomats on our ship."
T'lan entered the assignment data into her PADD, then asked, "Sir, what makes these two qualified to lead a diplomatic mission?"
James called up the profile information on his PADD to answer, "According to Ambassador Sugihara... tactfulness, peacefulness and... seduction."
"Seduction, sir?" T'lan questioned skeptically.
"I'm afraid to ask."
"Sir, I have to question their qualifications. According to their crew profiles, their previous diplomacy experience involves the strip bar at Drozana Station. I do not see how Ambassador Sugihara considers this as ground for qualification when dealing with foreign dignitaries."
"Commander, if I asked about half the nonsense that's gone on with half my crew, I would have a skeleton crew of nothing but geologists to run my ship. Just... go with it. Besides, remember trade agreement deal with the Bajorans?"
T'lan drolled, "Yes sir. I'm afraid I do."
"Well it worked. How it worked I will never in a million parsecs ask the twins. Why? Because when the Federation News Service starts asking if our leading diplomats are trading lapdances for political favors, I can at least plead ignorance without outright lying."
"A logical, if disturbing course of action." T'lan returned to her PADD, "It also puts to question Ambassador Sugihara's qualifications as the head of the Diplomacy Corp if he keeps recruiting from Drozana Station."
James shrugged, "He believes in second chances... and tipping well. Now, who can we find to assemble this experimental plasma torpedo system?"
"What the devil am I supposed to do with a chef?"-Vice Admiral Howie asked. "Sir, replicators have been standard issue for quite some time" stated First Officer Nilere, "Do we even have a galley?". "As a Vice Admiral, you would think I'd be in control of personnel. Remind me to put in for my retirement next week, I'm too old for this #$%6 !"
"Commander Eiriani. Care to explain why I have so many Gorn and Leathan on my ship? I specifically requested more orions! I could do with more entertainment around this joint... and get me a better cook than that Gorn working in the galley! Have you seen the slop he calls food?"
The tall Orion sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose in frustration. "I swear it's like the Klingons are toying with me... I knew I should have remained a pirate..."
"You could always go back to being a pirate, sir." Eiriani smiled and blushed, but kept at attention.
"Perhaps... Just see about getting me a decent crew. I dont think I could take another replicated meal."
The more I read this, the more it feels like someone out of one of those "Hitler finds out....etc" videos haha.
You mean the ones that use the Hitler freakout scene from the movie "Downfall?" Those are freekin' HILARIOUS.
I understand that the studio is upset about them but doesn't think it's worth the effort to stamp out every one of them on the internet. But I've heard the director has personally seen a lot of them and that he thinks it's great -- he likes that his work is being leveraged to create a cultural meme.
The most useless duty officer on the USS Beauregard has to be its new Entertainer, the stubborn, aggressive and unruly Tellarite, Zupa. I'm assuming he's an insult comic, but I have yet to find a mission that called for an entertainer that didn't have one of his traits as leading to disaster. If it were a KDF ship, at least I could execute him for incompetence.
Jinx looked down at the two unconcsious bodies in her sickbay. With a rather puzzled expression, she turned to her first officer, Mat.
"Mat, weren't these two officers in charge of the squad I sent out for some R&R?"
"Yes Captain," replied Mat.
"And the rest of the squad carried these two back already unconscious?"
"Yes Captain," replied Mat.
"Where are the rest of the squad now?"
"I sent them to quarters to recover. They were mostly intact, Captain, so I felt it best not to trouble the Doctor's time with them."
"Recover? But that was why they were sent on shore leave in the first place. But that still doesn't explain why I have my best diplomat, and one of my top traders lying in sickbay, when all they did was go out on the town for a couple of drinks. At the Academy no less. They don't even serve alcohol. So, who did they lose to? Please don't say cadets."
"No Captain, not cadets. Civilians."
Jinx turns and walks out of Sickbay, shaking her head in disgust.
====================================================
USS Kindjal, Engineering, Somewhere in the Beta Ursae Sector...
====================================================
Abuzz with activity, two engineers from the Kindjal's fabrication workshop stare down what was, an hour ago, a random assemblage of freshly replicated parts. Now it was a fully functional plasma turret, but as of yet it was not working. Both have a rather puzzled, but determined look on their faces. The older and more experienced of the two slowly starts to smile, as if a plan is forming in his head. With his plan growing in clarity by the second, he starts to furiously launch himself into his task.
"So, you're the new guy?" The experienced fabrication engineer said as he begins to put together the tripod assembly.
The new guy, nervous as ever, responds, "Yeah. I just transferred to the Kindjal yesterday."
"Ah! Welcome!" The older fabrication engineer extends a greasy hand, "I'm Crewman Bubba Sadir Amandeep Gunderson. How do you do?"
The new fabrication engineer shakes the other's hand, "Hiroko Dewey Chen Gonzales. Nice to meet you."
"Heh... we're just too generic, unflavored humans!" Exclaiming loudly, Bubba slaps a large power cell into Hiroko's hand, "Here, I want you to plug this in."
Hiroko looks down at the power cell. He scrunches his face. "Ummmm... what the hell is this?"
Bubba snorts as he grabs a long power cable, "It's a large weapons battery. Geez... they don't teach you kids anything at the academy, do they?"
Hiroko looks around at the partially assembled platform, "Ok.... where and how do I plug it in?"
Bubba groans and facepalms himself, "Christ kid! Just look for the large weapons battery slot on the damn thing and plug it in. Positive to positive, negative to negative. It's real easy. Now do it."
Thought it takes a minute for Hiroko to find the proper battery slot, he double checks the weapons battery, properly identifying the positive and negative polarity symbols on both the battery slot and the battery itself. With a smile, he slots the batter in, affixed with a satisfying snap. Lights start to turn on. The device starts to whir, click and swivel around.
"Hey Bubba! It works!" Hiroko cheered.
That was when the plasma turret's twin barrels whirl and stop in front of Hiroko's face, as the whine of a power buildup sets the barrels to glow an unholy green.
"Ummmm.... sir?" Hiroko gulped, "Is it supposed to do that?"
Laser pointers track and glide over Hiroko's forehead. The turret starts to make the universal 'lock on' sound effects, as its robotic audio kicks in. "Target identified. Human, Starfleet enlisted crewman. Designated hostile! DIE pe'taQ!"
=============================
Starfleet Academy Lecture Hall #37
=============================
"And that..." Captain James L Corgan taps the lecture hall viewscreen with a pointy stick, as images of a plasma turret blazing green death inside the Kindjal's engineering section while crewman run for the exits, "Is why you must always be careful with stolen or contraband enemy electronic components when experimenting with new turret builds."
He continued, to the gazes of horrified academy students, "Enemy salvage can be fun to tinker with, but sometimes it can turn on you. In this case, somebody didn't check out the Identify Friend or Foe programming code in the targeting chip we recently stole from the Klingons."
"Now..." James added, "I'm not trying to discourage you from being Fabrication Engineers. God knows, these accidents happen to way too many of you guys. However, we ship captains don't like it when things malfuction... especially on a ship using one of the few Black Hole creating Red Matter Capacitors available to Starfleet. So that's lesson number two. Don't assemble death machines near pieces of equipment that could kill us all if it's ever damaged or destroyed."
Then, he remarked mirthfully, "Lesson three... positive to positive, negative to negative. Just like the remote control to your holovid player."
OOC: My latest foul up. One dead fabrication engineer, one injured and in sickbay, for doing a simple weapons test. He was a common, so who cares, right? I do. I just got him that day and fabrication engineers don't grow on trees. *L*
0700 hours, ship time
Captain Dan Hayden sat at his desk in his quarters, staring at the man currently displayed on the viewer. It took almost a full minute for him to find his voice.
"ALL of them, sir?" he asked, horsely.
On the screen, Admiral Decker nodded sobberly, "I'm afraid so, Dan."
Hayden sighed and leaned back in his chair, putting both of his hands to his now throbbing head. A particularly viscious disease had broken out on some nearby Federation colonies. In order to help combat the growing epidemic, Starfleet Medical had established a research base from which to study the virus and hopefully generate a cure. Unfortunately, with so many Federation vessels suffering casualties along the various borders, experienced medical personnel were in short supply. As a result, Medical was asking for any and all volunteers any starship in the sector could provide.
The Excalibur had sent five of its people, all of them doctors.
Decker continued, "We don't have the full report yet, but preliminary data suggests the research personnel were accidentally exposed to the virus somehow."
Hayden dropped his arms to his sides. "There were no survivors," he repeated, "All personnel were lost."
Decker shook his head, "I am sorry, Captain. For whatever its worth, I hate being the bearer of news like this, Decker out." And with that, the Admiral's face faded from the viewer.
For a moment, Hayden sat there staring at the blank screen. Morbidly, he wondered how many more of his crew would likewise fade away into oblivion. Angrily, he punched the comm toggle that connected him with the rest of the ship.
"You can't even stage a snowball fight correctly!!??? How the heck does that happen, Nilere?" -Vice Admiral Howie asked?
"Someone brought our new Nausican tactical crewmember. He made a slingshot that delivered the snowballs with the force of one of Earth's old T-Shirt Cannons." Nilere explained.
"Well I'll be tribble @#$%! How are our crew members?"
"They'll be OK, sir, they just precisely 22h and 30 min to recover"-Nilere stated politely.
Doffside Stories #1
"Office Politics"
05:30 Generals of Production Offices, Qo'noS, First City Foundry District
An empty Bloodwine bottle shatters again the wall. Commander Kar raises an eyebrow stepping in the door. Witnessing the all too common event of shattered glass for the past 2 weeks has only ment the something interesting would soon unfold.
Kar snaps to attention, slamming his fist to his chest, smirking, "Good morning General. I take it we won J'mpok's favor with the wine?"
General D'arz looked across his desk at two empty bottles and a dozen data pads scattered across with a look of distant concentration. Kar let his smirk turn to a more serious tone, for he knew when the General mixed his wine with assignment reports, something had gone seriously wrong.
D'arz looked at his First Officer and asked, "How long has the Targ of Grethor's refit been complete? 2weeks?"
"Yes sir," Kar replied. "All diagnostics say we are ready for her shakedown patrols next week. Although we could be underway tonight, if that is what your really asking?"
It was D'arz's turn to smirk. "At ease and look at these", indicating the data pads while producing another bottle of wine from behind his desk. After taking a long drink to clear his throat, he began to inform Kar of the happenings of the past 12 hours.
"The wine vintage J'mpok comissioned for his 'Winter Holiday' was indeed well recieved, but I believe this was more of a political maneuver. He pit us against the House of Bra'thing for his favor."
After another drink he continued, "At 1800 last night, two of our officers were killed in an explosion while working on an experimental Diburnium body armor. The forge they were assigned for use was a 300 year old antique heirloom of Bra'Thing's. The foundry master on duty swears that the forge was in perfect working order, but when I had seen it last week, I would swear it couldn't produce Tin cans, let allow Diburnium"
At this Kar stopped reading and looked at the General, his brow pull tight with understanding. Before he could ask, D'arz continued, "Yes Commander, we won J'mpoks favor from Bra'thing and looks like we willfully destroyed their property, that junk metal maker, to boast of that favor. That foundry master by the way, is a loyalist of Bra'thing's"
Kar's eyes opened wide, not is concern, but in the realization that a break from their stagnant, boring duties may finally be over.
"That isn't all Kar," D'arz said quiter, stepping close to him. "3 days ago, I recieved from Captain Mo'tor, instructions from J'mpoks offices, that he suspected traitorous acts within the House of Bra'thing. The 2 officers I personally assigned for the mission, did not make their appointed check-in at midnight."
At the sound of a scuff and click at the steel door, theirs heads and eyes snapped towards the sound. Disruptor pistol in hand, Kar stealthfully stepped to the side of the door and reached for the door trigger.
Glancing back over his shoulder, he saw the General taking a shooting stance with his own pistol pointed and ready. At a slight nod, Kar tapped the door release, revealling a stout Gorn crouching on one knee, with a listening/recording device in his hand. The Gorns eyes went wide the second before the loud report and bright green flash of a Disruptor Compression Bolt slammed into his scaley face. With his teeth oblitered and smoke burning up out of his throat, the Gorn's body flopped dead to the floor.
Stepping over the body, the two cleared the hallway of anymore spys. Satisfied the way was clear, Kar knelt down to the body and pulled off from it's belt a comminicator with the Bra'Thing crest adorning the front. Showing it to D'arz, who spat and swore, Kar opened it and tuned it's channels.
"Targ of Grethor, this is Commander Kar. Lock onto this signal and prepare to transport." The Bekk on duty sounded, "s-Sir... locking on sir!"
D'arz butted in, "Get aboard and ready the ship for combat. I want her operational as soon as possible."
Kar replied hastely, "Half her crew are fresh Bekks and officers from the Academy, and most of her systems haven't been properly tested, sir. This is gonna be rough."
"J'mpok has set Bra'Thing and us against each other. For whatever his reasons. We must win the day and maintain his favor, at least publically. I need to look in that pa'tuq foundry master's office for proof the forge was ill maintained, to show Bra'Thing is incompotent and unable. I will signal for you when I'm ready."
"Spys, four officers dead, and all we have is Bekks and Bloodwine? I'm not really sure I dislike these office politics", Kar said with a smirk.
Comments
ROFL!!!
"Welcome aboard Admiral. Allow you to present my duty officers. They generally work together, and have earned the nickname 'Disco Crew' due to their shiny colours."
In short, I didn't even get a good bartender. :mad:
Ahh well, my XO is working to rectify the matter.
Oh? Did he have to ask the recipe for gin & tonic?
Now I wanna write a DOff story.
USS Kindjal, Outside the Bolarus System
=================================
Captain James Corgan, after reading the after action report, dropped his PADD in disgust. He paced back and forth across the ready room, alternating his withering gaze between the floor, the aforementioned PADD, and the three crewmen standing at rigid attention, waiting for his response. All three crewmen were covered in bruises. One even had his arm in a cloth sling. All were noticably nervous.
"So let me get this straight." James Corgan grumbled, a hard stare at the highest ranking non-comm, urging the crewman to adjust his stance even stiffer and straighter out of fear, "I assigned your team to beam down to Bolarus to take care of a civil dispute."
"Yes sir." Coughed the non-comm, his lips moved to show missing teeth.
"And you beamed down to talk to the peaceful protestors at the capital city..."
"That is correct, sir."
"The peaceful protesters."
"Yes sir."
"The peaceful protesters that actually wanted to talk to us."
"Yes sir."
"And the same peaceful protestors who wanted to do nothing more than to state their grievances and be heard, correct?"
"Ummm... yes sir."
"Ok, we have that straight." James said with eerie calm.
Captain Corgan returned to his pacing, one lap back and forth from before stopping with a snap of his feet. He retrieved his PADD and took another glance.
His face turned instantly hostile.
Captain Corgan barked viciously, "And yet you stooges managed to turn a peaceful protest on a normally docile Federation member world into a scene from DANTE'S FREAKIN' INFERNO, complete with a full blown riot, looting, destruction of property and the destabilization of the local freakin' government!"
The non-comm peeped, "Yes sir."
"And then on top of that, somehow, without having anything in your psyche profile to indicate that you idiots were aggressive or unruly, managed to incite said angry mob of formerly peaceful protesters to attack the entire away team, putting two in the MORGUE and the rest of you in the damn SICKBAY!!!!"
The non-comm hesitated to respond, "It is as you stated it, sir."
James snarled, "It is as I stated it... no kidding! Honestly, I thought this assignment was so simple even a team of academy washouts could do it, but instead I picked you guys under the false assumption that you could all handle it. Seriously... I have to ask... what the hell could you guys have possibly done to kick off such a monumental SCREWUP?!"
He waited a moment, unsure of what to say. When he did speak, the non-comm was sheepish, "Maybe it was something we said to the protestors?"
James pivots and stops in front of the non-comm, a finger thrust at his face, "You could have called a Klingon a coward while doing unspeakable acts to his pet targ and still not turned the situation as bad as THIS!"
Captain Corgan threw his hands up in the air, tossing his PADD away to let it clatter into his seat, "You know what, fine. You'd all be transferred to the Breen Embassy by now, but the Ambassador over there told me to stop sending my rejects over there to fill up his staff! You are all confined to quarters. DON'T TOUCH ANYTHING until I find a suitable Class Y planet with a functioning Federation Embassy to drop you into! DISMISSED!"
Thank you, 1nONLY_DRock, for making my day.
Seriously, there could be many missions branching off from little screwups like these.
LMAO!!! What a genius comment.
bahahaha
I've got some chefs and bartenders on my BoP. Wtf?
I'll write that one later.
Kinda creepy with all the Letheans and Gorn walking around on your ship, huh?
I got them all. Nausicaans, Gorn, Letheans, Klingons and Orions.
It's alarming how many of these people have Unscrupulous, Aggressive and Unruly as their traits.
What's even more alarming is how many of them are either my diplomats or my security officers. :eek:
Oh yeah, and a couple of Orion Slave Girls as 'Entertainers' (Captain James L Corgan, you are one sick man...)
USS Kindjal, En Route to the Traelus System
====================================
"...and that leave the gaseous anomaly scan in the Traelus System. I recommend Ensign Smith for that task."
The usually acerbic Vulcan, one Commander T'lan and first officer of the USS Kindjal, broke form by offering her suggestion with precautionary air, one which Captain James Lionel Corgan picked up quickly.
"Wait a second." Captain Corgan put down his PADD and looked T'lan directly in the eyes, "That particular task needs a specialist, and the last I checked Ensign Smith couldn't find an anomaly even if we stuffed him in a quantum torpedo and shot him towards it."
The placid Vulcan replied, "Sir, Starfleet Command deemed that reassigning an actual Astrometrics Scientist to our starship was not a proper use of personnel. Until they deem it necessary for us to have one, we will have to make due."
James groaned, "You're right. Assign Ensign Smith. He has a Ph.D in Geology. Surely he can figure out how to operate an instrument panel. What's the next assignment?"
T'lan checked her PADD and announced, "Next, we have to find qualified crewmembers to entertain some foreign dignitaries on our ship."
James answered without pause, "Send the twins."
T'lan raised a sharp Vulcan eyebrow, "The Orion twins?"
James replied, "Yes."
"The Orion Slave Girl twins."
"Did I stutter? Yes. Send the Orion twins. They're the best Diplomats on our ship."
T'lan entered the assignment data into her PADD, then asked, "Sir, what makes these two qualified to lead a diplomatic mission?"
James called up the profile information on his PADD to answer, "According to Ambassador Sugihara... tactfulness, peacefulness and... seduction."
"Seduction, sir?" T'lan questioned skeptically.
"I'm afraid to ask."
"Sir, I have to question their qualifications. According to their crew profiles, their previous diplomacy experience involves the strip bar at Drozana Station. I do not see how Ambassador Sugihara considers this as ground for qualification when dealing with foreign dignitaries."
"Commander, if I asked about half the nonsense that's gone on with half my crew, I would have a skeleton crew of nothing but geologists to run my ship. Just... go with it. Besides, remember trade agreement deal with the Bajorans?"
T'lan drolled, "Yes sir. I'm afraid I do."
"Well it worked. How it worked I will never in a million parsecs ask the twins. Why? Because when the Federation News Service starts asking if our leading diplomats are trading lapdances for political favors, I can at least plead ignorance without outright lying."
"A logical, if disturbing course of action." T'lan returned to her PADD, "It also puts to question Ambassador Sugihara's qualifications as the head of the Diplomacy Corp if he keeps recruiting from Drozana Station."
James shrugged, "He believes in second chances... and tipping well. Now, who can we find to assemble this experimental plasma torpedo system?"
"Commander Eiriani. Care to explain why I have so many Gorn and Leathan on my ship? I specifically requested more orions! I could do with more entertainment around this joint... and get me a better cook than that Gorn working in the galley! Have you seen the slop he calls food?"
The tall Orion sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose in frustration. "I swear it's like the Klingons are toying with me... I knew I should have remained a pirate..."
"You could always go back to being a pirate, sir." Eiriani smiled and blushed, but kept at attention.
"Perhaps... Just see about getting me a decent crew. I dont think I could take another replicated meal."
You mean the ones that use the Hitler freakout scene from the movie "Downfall?" Those are freekin' HILARIOUS.
I understand that the studio is upset about them but doesn't think it's worth the effort to stamp out every one of them on the internet. But I've heard the director has personally seen a lot of them and that he thinks it's great -- he likes that his work is being leveraged to create a cultural meme.
"Mat, weren't these two officers in charge of the squad I sent out for some R&R?"
"Yes Captain," replied Mat.
"And the rest of the squad carried these two back already unconscious?"
"Yes Captain," replied Mat.
"Where are the rest of the squad now?"
"I sent them to quarters to recover. They were mostly intact, Captain, so I felt it best not to trouble the Doctor's time with them."
"Recover? But that was why they were sent on shore leave in the first place. But that still doesn't explain why I have my best diplomat, and one of my top traders lying in sickbay, when all they did was go out on the town for a couple of drinks. At the Academy no less. They don't even serve alcohol. So, who did they lose to? Please don't say cadets."
"No Captain, not cadets. Civilians."
Jinx turns and walks out of Sickbay, shaking her head in disgust.
USS Kindjal, Engineering, Somewhere in the Beta Ursae Sector...
====================================================
Abuzz with activity, two engineers from the Kindjal's fabrication workshop stare down what was, an hour ago, a random assemblage of freshly replicated parts. Now it was a fully functional plasma turret, but as of yet it was not working. Both have a rather puzzled, but determined look on their faces. The older and more experienced of the two slowly starts to smile, as if a plan is forming in his head. With his plan growing in clarity by the second, he starts to furiously launch himself into his task.
"So, you're the new guy?" The experienced fabrication engineer said as he begins to put together the tripod assembly.
The new guy, nervous as ever, responds, "Yeah. I just transferred to the Kindjal yesterday."
"Ah! Welcome!" The older fabrication engineer extends a greasy hand, "I'm Crewman Bubba Sadir Amandeep Gunderson. How do you do?"
The new fabrication engineer shakes the other's hand, "Hiroko Dewey Chen Gonzales. Nice to meet you."
"Heh... we're just too generic, unflavored humans!" Exclaiming loudly, Bubba slaps a large power cell into Hiroko's hand, "Here, I want you to plug this in."
Hiroko looks down at the power cell. He scrunches his face. "Ummmm... what the hell is this?"
Bubba snorts as he grabs a long power cable, "It's a large weapons battery. Geez... they don't teach you kids anything at the academy, do they?"
Hiroko looks around at the partially assembled platform, "Ok.... where and how do I plug it in?"
Bubba groans and facepalms himself, "Christ kid! Just look for the large weapons battery slot on the damn thing and plug it in. Positive to positive, negative to negative. It's real easy. Now do it."
Thought it takes a minute for Hiroko to find the proper battery slot, he double checks the weapons battery, properly identifying the positive and negative polarity symbols on both the battery slot and the battery itself. With a smile, he slots the batter in, affixed with a satisfying snap. Lights start to turn on. The device starts to whir, click and swivel around.
"Hey Bubba! It works!" Hiroko cheered.
That was when the plasma turret's twin barrels whirl and stop in front of Hiroko's face, as the whine of a power buildup sets the barrels to glow an unholy green.
"Ummmm.... sir?" Hiroko gulped, "Is it supposed to do that?"
Laser pointers track and glide over Hiroko's forehead. The turret starts to make the universal 'lock on' sound effects, as its robotic audio kicks in. "Target identified. Human, Starfleet enlisted crewman. Designated hostile! DIE pe'taQ!"
"Oh shi..."
***fffwwweeeeeeeeeeee SSSHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMM!!!!!!!!!***
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Starfleet Academy Lecture Hall #37
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"And that..." Captain James L Corgan taps the lecture hall viewscreen with a pointy stick, as images of a plasma turret blazing green death inside the Kindjal's engineering section while crewman run for the exits, "Is why you must always be careful with stolen or contraband enemy electronic components when experimenting with new turret builds."
He continued, to the gazes of horrified academy students, "Enemy salvage can be fun to tinker with, but sometimes it can turn on you. In this case, somebody didn't check out the Identify Friend or Foe programming code in the targeting chip we recently stole from the Klingons."
"Now..." James added, "I'm not trying to discourage you from being Fabrication Engineers. God knows, these accidents happen to way too many of you guys. However, we ship captains don't like it when things malfuction... especially on a ship using one of the few Black Hole creating Red Matter Capacitors available to Starfleet. So that's lesson number two. Don't assemble death machines near pieces of equipment that could kill us all if it's ever damaged or destroyed."
Then, he remarked mirthfully, "Lesson three... positive to positive, negative to negative. Just like the remote control to your holovid player."
OOC: My latest foul up. One dead fabrication engineer, one injured and in sickbay, for doing a simple weapons test. He was a common, so who cares, right? I do. I just got him that day and fabrication engineers don't grow on trees. *L*
Location: Vulcan sector
0700 hours, ship time
Captain Dan Hayden sat at his desk in his quarters, staring at the man currently displayed on the viewer. It took almost a full minute for him to find his voice.
"ALL of them, sir?" he asked, horsely.
On the screen, Admiral Decker nodded sobberly, "I'm afraid so, Dan."
Hayden sighed and leaned back in his chair, putting both of his hands to his now throbbing head. A particularly viscious disease had broken out on some nearby Federation colonies. In order to help combat the growing epidemic, Starfleet Medical had established a research base from which to study the virus and hopefully generate a cure. Unfortunately, with so many Federation vessels suffering casualties along the various borders, experienced medical personnel were in short supply. As a result, Medical was asking for any and all volunteers any starship in the sector could provide.
The Excalibur had sent five of its people, all of them doctors.
Decker continued, "We don't have the full report yet, but preliminary data suggests the research personnel were accidentally exposed to the virus somehow."
Hayden dropped his arms to his sides. "There were no survivors," he repeated, "All personnel were lost."
Decker shook his head, "I am sorry, Captain. For whatever its worth, I hate being the bearer of news like this, Decker out." And with that, the Admiral's face faded from the viewer.
For a moment, Hayden sat there staring at the blank screen. Morbidly, he wondered how many more of his crew would likewise fade away into oblivion. Angrily, he punched the comm toggle that connected him with the rest of the ship.
"Someone brought our new Nausican tactical crewmember. He made a slingshot that delivered the snowballs with the force of one of Earth's old T-Shirt Cannons." Nilere explained.
"Well I'll be tribble @#$%! How are our crew members?"
"They'll be OK, sir, they just precisely 22h and 30 min to recover"-Nilere stated politely.
"Office Politics"
05:30 Generals of Production Offices, Qo'noS, First City Foundry District
An empty Bloodwine bottle shatters again the wall. Commander Kar raises an eyebrow stepping in the door. Witnessing the all too common event of shattered glass for the past 2 weeks has only ment the something interesting would soon unfold.
Kar snaps to attention, slamming his fist to his chest, smirking, "Good morning General. I take it we won J'mpok's favor with the wine?"
General D'arz looked across his desk at two empty bottles and a dozen data pads scattered across with a look of distant concentration. Kar let his smirk turn to a more serious tone, for he knew when the General mixed his wine with assignment reports, something had gone seriously wrong.
D'arz looked at his First Officer and asked, "How long has the Targ of Grethor's refit been complete? 2weeks?"
"Yes sir," Kar replied. "All diagnostics say we are ready for her shakedown patrols next week. Although we could be underway tonight, if that is what your really asking?"
It was D'arz's turn to smirk. "At ease and look at these", indicating the data pads while producing another bottle of wine from behind his desk. After taking a long drink to clear his throat, he began to inform Kar of the happenings of the past 12 hours.
"The wine vintage J'mpok comissioned for his 'Winter Holiday' was indeed well recieved, but I believe this was more of a political maneuver. He pit us against the House of Bra'thing for his favor."
After another drink he continued, "At 1800 last night, two of our officers were killed in an explosion while working on an experimental Diburnium body armor. The forge they were assigned for use was a 300 year old antique heirloom of Bra'Thing's. The foundry master on duty swears that the forge was in perfect working order, but when I had seen it last week, I would swear it couldn't produce Tin cans, let allow Diburnium"
At this Kar stopped reading and looked at the General, his brow pull tight with understanding. Before he could ask, D'arz continued, "Yes Commander, we won J'mpoks favor from Bra'thing and looks like we willfully destroyed their property, that junk metal maker, to boast of that favor. That foundry master by the way, is a loyalist of Bra'thing's"
Kar's eyes opened wide, not is concern, but in the realization that a break from their stagnant, boring duties may finally be over.
"That isn't all Kar," D'arz said quiter, stepping close to him. "3 days ago, I recieved from Captain Mo'tor, instructions from J'mpoks offices, that he suspected traitorous acts within the House of Bra'thing. The 2 officers I personally assigned for the mission, did not make their appointed check-in at midnight."
At the sound of a scuff and click at the steel door, theirs heads and eyes snapped towards the sound. Disruptor pistol in hand, Kar stealthfully stepped to the side of the door and reached for the door trigger.
Glancing back over his shoulder, he saw the General taking a shooting stance with his own pistol pointed and ready. At a slight nod, Kar tapped the door release, revealling a stout Gorn crouching on one knee, with a listening/recording device in his hand. The Gorns eyes went wide the second before the loud report and bright green flash of a Disruptor Compression Bolt slammed into his scaley face. With his teeth oblitered and smoke burning up out of his throat, the Gorn's body flopped dead to the floor.
Stepping over the body, the two cleared the hallway of anymore spys. Satisfied the way was clear, Kar knelt down to the body and pulled off from it's belt a comminicator with the Bra'Thing crest adorning the front. Showing it to D'arz, who spat and swore, Kar opened it and tuned it's channels.
"Targ of Grethor, this is Commander Kar. Lock onto this signal and prepare to transport." The Bekk on duty sounded, "s-Sir... locking on sir!"
D'arz butted in, "Get aboard and ready the ship for combat. I want her operational as soon as possible."
Kar replied hastely, "Half her crew are fresh Bekks and officers from the Academy, and most of her systems haven't been properly tested, sir. This is gonna be rough."
"J'mpok has set Bra'Thing and us against each other. For whatever his reasons. We must win the day and maintain his favor, at least publically. I need to look in that pa'tuq foundry master's office for proof the forge was ill maintained, to show Bra'Thing is incompotent and unable. I will signal for you when I'm ready."
"Spys, four officers dead, and all we have is Bekks and Bloodwine? I'm not really sure I dislike these office politics", Kar said with a smirk.