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qoH (short story)
hfmudd
Member Posts: 881 Arc User
Trokh, son of Kadesh, stood with his arms folded over his chest and glared at the intruder in his ship's medical bay. At his sides were his science officer, Laska, and the old doctor, Wohalak. For several moments he was still and silent, only the tenseness of his body and small twitches at the corners of his jaw betraying his anger. Then he spoke. "Explain."
"One of the bekks performing routine maintenance and file cleanup found it in the computer core," Laska said quickly. "It must have been left there during the recent... visit. He thought to see what he could do with it, or extract..."
The general held up his right hand, silencing her. His dark eyes, glittering with fury, never left the unfortunately familiar figure before him: a male human in a Starfleet uniform, blue piping across his chest and very little hair on his head. But it was not truly human at all, as demonstrated by the uncannily patient way that it now waited for someone to inform it of the emergency for which it had been activated.
"Delete it."
"My lord, we have tried," Laska replied, looking near but not directly at her commander. "Though it is not sapient, the program is surprisingly resilient, almost stubborn. It has flagged itself as an essential process; we can't purge it or even shut it down."
Trokh considered this. "I want his name."
Laska blinked. "My lord? It does not have a name; it's a simple program, not like the Doctor..."
Trokh turned at last to his science officer, fixing her with the full intensity of his stare. Through gritted teeth, he repeated: "His. Name."
Laska swallowed, comprehending. "Vorok, my lord."
Trokh nodded and turned away, lifting his chin. "Computer. Locate Bekk Vorok."
Bekk Vorok is in the main computer core, the disembodied voice informed him.
Trokh nodded again and marched out of the room, Honor Guard cloak sweeping behind him. Laska hastened to follow, as did Wohalak a moment later, after pausing to grab a medkit from a nearby table.
The unfortunate bekk was indeed in the ship's computer room, bent over one of the consoles ringing the massive core. He bolted to his feet and saluted as the general approached with a full head of steam; in the background, other technicians looked up from their work. "My lord! I'm still trying... I think I might have a..."
Trokh silenced the stammering man with a vicious backhand, knocking him to the deck. Vorok's hand went to his jaw in reflex, but he kept fearfully silent (as did the other techs) as the general loomed over him. Laska and Wohalak came hurrying up, halting a few paces short to await their lord's next action. Trokh stood still for a moment, contemplating the fallen bekk, fingers twitching near his belt... then turned his back on the man, issuing orders to his senior officers.
"Get this fool off my ship before I kill him. And find some way to get rid of it, or a use for it, or lock it in a closet. I do not care, so long as I never have to see or hear it ever again. Understood?"
Laska saluted. "Understood clearly, my lord."
"One of the bekks performing routine maintenance and file cleanup found it in the computer core," Laska said quickly. "It must have been left there during the recent... visit. He thought to see what he could do with it, or extract..."
The general held up his right hand, silencing her. His dark eyes, glittering with fury, never left the unfortunately familiar figure before him: a male human in a Starfleet uniform, blue piping across his chest and very little hair on his head. But it was not truly human at all, as demonstrated by the uncannily patient way that it now waited for someone to inform it of the emergency for which it had been activated.
"Delete it."
"My lord, we have tried," Laska replied, looking near but not directly at her commander. "Though it is not sapient, the program is surprisingly resilient, almost stubborn. It has flagged itself as an essential process; we can't purge it or even shut it down."
Trokh considered this. "I want his name."
Laska blinked. "My lord? It does not have a name; it's a simple program, not like the Doctor..."
Trokh turned at last to his science officer, fixing her with the full intensity of his stare. Through gritted teeth, he repeated: "His. Name."
Laska swallowed, comprehending. "Vorok, my lord."
Trokh nodded and turned away, lifting his chin. "Computer. Locate Bekk Vorok."
Bekk Vorok is in the main computer core, the disembodied voice informed him.
Trokh nodded again and marched out of the room, Honor Guard cloak sweeping behind him. Laska hastened to follow, as did Wohalak a moment later, after pausing to grab a medkit from a nearby table.
The unfortunate bekk was indeed in the ship's computer room, bent over one of the consoles ringing the massive core. He bolted to his feet and saluted as the general approached with a full head of steam; in the background, other technicians looked up from their work. "My lord! I'm still trying... I think I might have a..."
Trokh silenced the stammering man with a vicious backhand, knocking him to the deck. Vorok's hand went to his jaw in reflex, but he kept fearfully silent (as did the other techs) as the general loomed over him. Laska and Wohalak came hurrying up, halting a few paces short to await their lord's next action. Trokh stood still for a moment, contemplating the fallen bekk, fingers twitching near his belt... then turned his back on the man, issuing orders to his senior officers.
"Get this fool off my ship before I kill him. And find some way to get rid of it, or a use for it, or lock it in a closet. I do not care, so long as I never have to see or hear it ever again. Understood?"
Laska saluted. "Understood clearly, my lord."
Join Date: January 2011
Post edited by hfmudd on
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Member Access Denied Armada!
My forum single-issue of rage: Make the Proton Experimental Weapon go for subsystem targetting!
The real fool is probably me, for accidentally unpacking the EMH on a character where I didn't want him, and discovering he cannot be dismissed. It was, quite literally, write this or punch something.
Ah, I see. I pity the captain, in that case.
Load up with aoe damage abilities, put in front of your combat officers, use as bait....
Member Access Denied Armada!
My forum single-issue of rage: Make the Proton Experimental Weapon go for subsystem targetting!
"I am in no mood for jokes," Trokh warned.
"It is no joke, my Lord," Laska assured him. "At first, yes - some of the crew were practicing for the next production, and they thought it would be amusing to have it read one of the parts. They did not expect it to have such... talent. Such passion."
"Bah! What does a hologram know of passion?" Trokh shook his head at the absurdity of it. "It has no heart, no blood... it does not even look like a Klingon."
Laska acknowledged the truth of this with a solemn nod, but pressed her point. "I thought the same, my Lord. But I have seen it... him perform. I think you will be surprised also." When the general merely scowled, she reminded him, "You did order that some use be found for it."
Trokh snorted. "As a wind-up jester? A thing of light and shadow... Very well. You shall have one half-hour, this evening, to convince me."
The general, of course, had a front row seat in the ship's small auditorium. Laska sat beside him, ready to soothe his temper. The leader of the crew's troupe, rather than being intimidated by his commander's presence, promised him "a performance you will not soon forget" before disappearing back into the wings.
For a moment, there was silence. Then the curtains parted, the lights came up, and the hologram - still with its human seeming, but wearing the traditional costume for his role - struck a pose and launched into his aria.
By the end of the first act, Trokh was leaning forward in his chair. By the end of the fourth - as hero, rival and lover lay "dead" upon the stage and the other players raised their voices to the heavens in a howl of warning - tears were streaming down his face. And when the cast emerged once more to take their bows, none applauded as long or as fiercely as he.
~ Fin ~