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Thread: Star Trek Section 7G: A Private Little Clusterfuck

  1. #51
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    Terence stared at the light blinking at him on the console. He knew it meant something, but his tired brain was so fogged that he couldn't remember what it might be. What had he been doing before that light came on? Let's see, they had just taken off, he'd sent a message to the Nix', telling them that they were on their way, and then the light came on. Wait! The light was tied in with the message, somehow! That was it! Still didn't tell him what it meant, though. The light was red, that usually meant something bad, so something about the message was bad. Oh, it was the "Delivery Failure" light, that's what it was. So, did he screw up the message somehow? No, everything looked okay. Well, why would they get a "Delivery Failure" light, then?

    If it wasn't something he'd done, or any of the shuttle's systems, then it would have to be something wrong with the Nix's system. But text messages almost always went through, and if there was a failure, he wouldn't necessarily know about it. So, why was the light on? The only other reason it could be on, would be if they were being jammed. For that to happen, that would have to mean ---

    "Fuck!" Terence shouted. "We're being jammed! There's goddamned Klingons in the system! Get us out of here!"

    T'ocha, Terence remembered her name now, jabbed at the controls, activating the evasive maneuvers subroutines in the shuttle's systems. The shuttle veered up sharply in response to the program.

    "Tell the others." T'ocha said.

    "How?" Terence was wide awake, adrenalin having kicked in as he scanned the instruments for information as to where the Klingons might be. "We just have to hope that they've noticed we've changed course."

    "How many Klingons? And what's their heading?"

    "Looks like two ships, and they're heading in our direction. It might just be that they're on their way to Neural and haven't noticed us yet."

    "We can't take that chance. How long 'til the defense system goes operational?"

    "Maybe fifteen minutes."

    "What are the other shuttles doing? Have they figured out what's going on?"

    "Looks like it. They've each peeled off in a different direction."

    "Good. Now, let's hope we can make it to Neural's moon before the Klingons can catch us!"



    "Shit! hard to port!" Lincoln cried out as image of the drifting Klingon ship filled the viewscreen as the plasma began to dissipate.

    Chi-Chi's fingers did the appropriate dance, and the crew felt themselves jerked as the ship rapidly changed direction and the underpowered dampeners failed to keep up with the demand placed on them. Lincoln's mind raced as he tried to plot their next move. He hadn't expected that they would be within collision distance of the Klingon ship when they emerged. If that ship was still operational, there was little the Nixon could do to successfully outrun it, and no chance that they could successfully repeat their surprise maneuver again.

    "Sybok, status of the Klingon ship." Lincoln said.

    "They might be fucked, captain. Their shields are down, and they appear to have lost main power."

    "Chi-Chi, back off to a safe distance, and then blow them out of space."

    "Captain?" Chi-Chi's voice was shocked, with no hint of a double entendre.

    "Dat's murder!" Cornrows shouted.

    "That's an order, Chi-Chi." Lincoln turned his chair to face Cornrows. "Its survival. Klingons don't believe in surrender. If they can't repair their ship, they'll try and lure us in to approaching their vessel, then self-destruct once we get close enough that they can be certain they'll take us out.

    "If we leave them here, they'll do whatever they can to get their ship operational again and come after us. There's two more Klingon ships in this system that we have to deal with, and we have four shuttles with crew members out there, somewhere, just sitting ducks.

    "Those Klingons," Lincoln gestured towards the screen. "Are dead already, its merely a question of who kills them. I vote that we do it, and we do it now. Fire, Chi-Chi."
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  2. #52
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    "Where's the Klingons now?" T'ocha asked, her fingers still rapidly moving over the controls.

    "They've split up. One's following the Yugo, and the other one's after us." Terence replied.

    "Shit!" T'ocha said. "I don't know who's bright idea it was to have keyboard controls for a small ship like this, but if we make it out of this, I'm going to kill the bastard. Goddamned hard to fly this thing using just arrow keys. Fucking joysticks are good enough for airplanes for hundreds of years, but some asshole at Starfleet thinks that shuttles should be flown by keyboard! How far are we from Neural's moon?"

    "About a million kilometers. While you're at it, kill whomever decided not to arm this thing. Even a gravitic mine would be handy right about now."


    Chi-Chi fired a spread of torpedoes at the Klingon ship. They struck in rapid succession, ripping the ship to pieces. Most of the crew died in seconds, the rest struggled valiantly to get to spacesuits, with many failing to make it as the ship's artificial gravity disappeared. Those that successfully managed to suit up, quickly began to wonder if they hadn't chosen the more dishonorable way of dying. They had no way of knowing when, or if, they would be rescued, and there was no honor dying adrift in space.

    "Sybok," Lincoln said as the glow of the exploding Klingon ship faded on the screen. "What's the status of the two other ships?"

    "Both of them seem to be in pursuit of our shuttles. One of the shuttles is heading towards Neural, the rest are heading in different directions away from Neural. The shuttle heading to Neural is being pursued, as is the one headed towards Galactic North. Its not entirely clear what the other two shuttles are doing. They might be circling back around, or they could be heading out of the system."

    "Are any of them outside of jamming range?"

    "The Vega and the Pinto are."

    "Lieutenant," Lincoln swiveled to face Cornrows. "Tell those two shuttles to head to the location of the last beacon we deployed and to wait for us there. If they don't hear from us in 30 minutes, or their long range sensors pick up Klingon vessels coming towards them, they're to get the hell out of here, and inform Starfleet command as soon as they think its safe to send a signal.

    "Helm, lay in an intercept course for the Klingon ship headed towards Galactic North."


    "Damned Klingons!" T'ocha snapped. "Fuckers are just toying with us! That ship's got the speed and the range that they could have taken us out by now, if they wanted to."

    "They're probably just waiting to see where we go. Neural's moon is dead ahead."

    "How long until the defense system's operational?"

    "Any time now, if it's not already live."

    "Okay, I just have to figure out how to get them in range of the defense system without getting us killed in the process."

    T'ocha stabbed at the controls and the shuttle dove down to almost the surface of the moon. The terrain hugging algorithm kept them a few meters above the ground, as T'ocha kept them barely on the far side hemisphere, which was just outside the sensor range of the defense system. The Klingon ship remained several thousand kilometers behind and above the Edsel.

    "Where's that opening? Where's that opening?" T'ocha muttered absentmindedly to herself as she scanned the view out the windows. The Klingons wouldn't calmly pursue them forever, and either they would have to find a way to escape the Klingons, or hope that the Nixon would come to their rescue. T'ocha wasn't about to rely on the Nix' coming to save them at the last minute. She knew that there was a better chance of the Nix' breaking down, than being useful at this moment. That meant if she couldn't find the opening, they were probably dead. No way was she going to allow the Edsel to be captured by those bastards. She'd blow up the shuttle first.
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  3. #53
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    "Mr. Aphroodle," Lincoln pivoted his chair to face the Chief Engineer. "We're going to need something to take out that Klingon ship quickly. Right now, they're toying with our shuttle, but we get close, and the Klingons will use it as a bargaining chip against us. Unless we can take them out with our first shot, they'll open up on the shuttle, and her shields are no match for Klingon weapons."

    "Aphroodle have idea!" He was nodding his head excitedly. "Dangerous, but will work!"

    "Can you explain it to me, or is it just easier for you to do?"

    "Easier me do. Need full control."

    "Okay, everyone, turn over control of your stations to Mr. Aphroodle."

    Aphroodle's fat fingers began a surprisingly delicate dance over the buttons at his station. He first set the ship's computer to calculating a projected course for the shuttle and her pursuer, then he began slowing the Nixon. He would need the distance between the ships to be relatively wide for his plan to work. This had the additional benefit in that it wouldn't spook the Klingons into doing something rash, like blowing up the shuttle, and then turning on the Nixon. Then he began working on some subroutines for the engines necessary for his plan to work.


    "There's the opening!" T'ocha shouted. "Now, let's see if I can manage to get this bitch inside!"

    The opening T'ocha was referring to was one of the tunnels they'd made. It was just barely wide enough for the shuttle to fit in, assuming that she could finagle the controls properly. It would have been so much easier to do this if she'd had a flight yoke to work with, instead of keyboard controls. The tunnel would afford them considerable safety. It was far too small for the Klingon ship to follow, and by the time the Klingons were able to angle their ship into position to fire a shot down the tunnel, the Edsel would be either out in space or hiding in the cavernous space which used to be the moon's core. T'ocha hadn't made up her mind what she was going to do, all she could think about right now, was getting the Klingon ship off her ass.

    T'ocha began seemingly slapping the controls in rapid fire motion as they got closer to the opening. The Edsel arced up, and then dove bow first into the tunnel, her roof grazing the tunnel walls slightly as T'ocha and the automatic controls fought to get the shuttle into the center of the tunnel.

    "So, now what?" Terence asked.

    "I dunno," T'ocha replied. "Up until now, I was mainly worried about getting into the tunnel."

    "Well, we can't just stay here for the rest of our lives! I'm supposed to be getting my legs waxed next week!"

    T'ocha gave Terence the hairy eyeball.

    "I'm kidding!" He said and T'ocha relaxed slightly. "I had my legs waxed a couple of days ago, so there's plenty of time before I have to worry about waxing them again."

    T'ocha would have glared at Terence again, but they'd emerged into the center of the moon, and she wanted to move the shuttle out of the direct path of the tunnel, in case the Klingons decided they wanted to drop a torpedo or two down it. Once they were safely away from the opening, an idea began forming in her head. It was risky, but they really didn't have much choice. They had no idea what the status of the Nixon was. All they knew for certain was that there was a Klingon ship out there, somewhere, and that they had very limited rations if they wanted to stay down here in the depths of the moon before trying to escape.
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  4. #54
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    Aphroodle finished entering the last of the commands into his console and turned to face Lincoln.

    "Ready. Should grab before we go."

    "Okay, folks," Lincoln said. "Everybody grab hold of something. Mr. Aphroodle, do your thing."

    Aphroodle turned back to his console, punched a button, and the sound of the warp engines engaging filled the bridge. Lincoln was immediately concerned. One had to be very careful about how they engaged the warp drive within a system. Done wrong, and you could shift the orbit of planets or other bodies with disastrous effects. Then there was the matter of Cherenkov radiation. Go too fast, and the collisions caused by particles being moved around by the distortion of space, would emit enough radiation to kill all life within a system. Did Aphroodle really know what he was doing? Or had Lincoln made a mistake? If he had, it was certainly too late to do anything about it now. He wished that Aphroodle had installed seatbelts on the bridge, and not just the shuttles. Aphroodle promised him that they'd have the seatbelts installed soon, but didn't offer a good explanation as to why they'd done the shuttles first. Then again, Pakleds weren't known for their logic. Or much of anything at all, so the fact that Aphroodle had accomplished so much was rather remarkable in and of itself.

    Almost immediately after the warp engines had engaged, they cut out. Lincoln might have wondered what the point of such a short trip was, if the collision alarms hadn't started going off.


    "Okay, I've got a plan." T'ocha after they'd spent several minutes floating in the center of the moon. "If we're lucky, the Klingons are still above the North Pole's entrance."

    "You do realize that being in Section 7G makes us very unlucky by default, don't you?" Terence's voice shifted upwards with nervousness as he spoke.

    "Yeah," T'ocha spoke as she turned the shuttle to take them out the East tunnel. "But I figure if even you can manage to get laid every once and a while, we stand a chance of making it out of this alive."

    "Hey!" Terence's tone was hurt.

    "Shut it!" T'ocha snapped as they entered the East tunnel. "I need to be able to concentrate!"

    The shuttle pushed towards its maximum speed as it flew through the tunnel. Upon exiting, T'ocha rolled the shuttle, and then dropped it down to within a few meters of the moon's surface, heading back towards the moon's North Pole.

    "Let me know if you pick up the Klingons." She said.

    "They're still over the North entrance." Terence said after a few moments.

    "Good." T'ocha then ordered the shuttle into a vertical climb. "Have they spotted us?"

    "Looks like it."

    "Right then, down we go!" T'ocha jabbed the controls and the shuttle immediately dipped down, heading towards the moon's South Pole. There wasn't much gravity on the moon, but T'ocha wanted the boost to try and keep them just out of sight of the Klingon's sensors. "Let's hope they still want to keep at this cat and mouse game."

    Flying a shuttle is technically not terribly difficult to do. The Federation generally thought of them as the 23rd Century version of pilot boats. They weren't designed to be anything more than a simple way of getting from one place to another, at modest speeds. They had minimal shielding, and were generally considered mostly useless in a society that had transporters. Starship crews often considered them excess baggage, until the transporters failed, or they needed to impress some silly diplomat or planetary leader. Much better to take a recalcitrant leader on a slow ride around a group of starships, so that he could get a good look at their imposing appearance, than to beam him directly aboard one, and hope that he comes to his senses about joining the Federation, after getting a tour through the non-secure areas of a starship.

    Smart crews, like those aboard the Nixon, recognized that their lives might one day depend upon the shuttles, and enhanced their capabilities. Unfortunately, for the Nixon, they were unable to do the kinds of modifications that they really wanted. Not only could they not get the parts they needed, but unlike ships like the Enterprise, if during an admiral's inspection of the ship, it was discovered that they had significantly modified the shuttles, they got a black mark on their record. Never mind that these modifications might mean the difference between people surviving a mission or not, if it wasn't in the regs, they got blasted for it. Terrain hugging software could be easily hidden, and it was that which was allowing the Edsel to hopefully escape the Klingons.
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  5. #55
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    "Klingon ship, 5 kilometers to port!" Sybok shouted. "They're headed directly for us!"

    "Aphroodle!" Lincoln screamed.

    "Wait. Sorry!" Aphroodle ducked his head repeatedly as he spoke.

    "We've got a tractor beam lock on the shuttle!" Sybok said a second before the sound of the warp engines kicking in again was audible.

    Lincoln looked at Aphroodle, concerned. Aphroodle smiled to indicate that this was all part of Aphroodle's plan. There were numerous jerks, as the Nixon dropped in and out of warp rapidly, each time they dropped out, the ship changed course, slightly.

    "Tractor beam off!" Sybok said after about the fifth time they'd dropped out of warp, and then they found themselves thrown into warp again.


    "South Pole entrance coming up!" Terence said.

    "No shit, Greebowitcz!" T'ocha snapped. "Any sign of the Klingons?"

    "Nope."

    "Well, let's hope that means they're still following us just out of sensor range." T'ocha sent the shuttle into the opening. This time, instead of pausing in the core of the moon, they continued on up the tunnel to the North Pole entrance and then arced high on a course which would put them passing over Neural's northern pole by millions of kilometers. That was safely above the area covered by the defense systems on the moon. "Give me a view of the moon."

    Terence switched the display to the aft view. The Klingons had failed to notice that the Edsel had gone into the southern tunnel and were heading northward up the face of the near side of Neural's moon. The defense system had detected the Klingon ship the moment it had crossed over to the hemisphere facing Neural. It soon let loose with a brace of photon torpedoes that headed directly towards the Klingon ship.

    As soon as the ship detected the torpedoes, it attempted to evade them, something which was essentially pointless, since the torpedoes had been programmed with the standard Klingon evasive maneuvers and could anticipate every move of the Klingons. The torpedoes were enough to wipe out the Klingon's deflector screens, and as the screens collapsed, the defense system fired its disruptor cannon.

    Onboard the Edsel, both Terence and T'ocha watched as the disruptor beam blasted the Klingon ship to pieces. Sections of debris blown towards Neural quickly became visible fireballs in the planet's atmosphere, while other portions rained down on the moon's surface.

    "Okay," T'ocha said as she programmed the coordinates for the rendezvous point in the shuttle's computer. "At least we know it works. Let's hope that the Nix is still around and waiting for us."


    The Nixon cycled in and out of warp in two rapid successions and then returned to sub-light speed.

    "Klingons dead ahead!" Sybok shouted as the viewscreen was filled with the aft section of the Klingon ship.

    "Shit!" Lincoln gasped. "Chi-Chi, all weapons fire on that ship now!"

    Chi-Chi's quicksilver fingers alternated between launching torpedoes and firing the phasers. The Klingons barely had time to notice that the Nixon was behind them before the first barrage hit. While they were attempting to get a weapons lock, the second barrage overloaded their shields, the third barrage tore the nacelles off the ship. The fourth and final barrage penetrated the hull and destroyed the control system for the warp core. The liberated particles of matter and anti-matter began annihilating one another at a furious rate, and the Klingon ship quickly decomposed into high energy particles.
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  6. #56
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    "Congratulations, Mr. Aphroodle," Lincoln relaxed back into his seat. "It seems your plan worked flawlessly. That's twice on a single mission. Quite impressive."

    Aphroodle ducked his head bashfully.

    "Now, let's see about finding that other Klingon ship." Lincoln was fairly beaming with pride as he spoke. "Sybok, any sign of it?"

    "Nope." Replied Sybok. "Judging from the readings I'm picking up on the long range sensors, I'd say they got their ass fried by the defense system we installed on Neural's moon."

    "Excellent. If the shuttle's are all on their way to the rendezvous point, then I suggest we go join them." Lincoln said.

    "All but one, captain." Sybok replied.

    "What happened to it?"

    "Judging by its current course and direction, it appears to be the one we picked up and dropped off before we attacked the Klingon ship."

    "Lieutenant," Lincoln turned to Cornrows. "Try contacting them."

    "They ain't answering." Cornrows replied after a few minutes.

    "Sybok, any signs of life inside the shuttle?"

    "Nope."

    "Helm, lay in an intercept course, full impulse."

    "Aye, aye, captain." Chi-Chi and Hussein said simultaneously.

    "Oaks, snokes, poke!" Chi-Chi quickly added as he affectionately jabbed Hussein. "You owe me a Coke!"

    "May Allah send a thousand camel spiders to feast upon your testicles." Hussein replied. "That was a stupid saying when my great-great-grandmother was alive."

    "Get a room, you two!" Lincoln snapped and then turned back to Sybok. "Analysis, Sybok."

    "You got me, captain. I've remotely shutdown their engines, so we can safely bring it aboard when we get to it. But there's no signs of life, and I don't detect any indications of a booby trap. I tried tapping into the interior cameras, but they don't seem to be working. Until we get it onboard and have a team examine it, we've no way of knowing what happened to the crew."

    "How long to intercept, Mr. Chi-Chi?"

    "I'm bringing it into the shuttle bay now, captain."

    "Lieutenant," Lincoln said to Cornrows. "Have the shuttle bay crew contact me as soon as the get a look inside that shuttle. Chi-Chi, as soon as you get that shuttle in the bay, head for the rendezvous point at full impulse power. Mr. Aphroodle, any ideas of what might have happened?"

    "Uh, no, no, no, no, no, no!" Aphroodle shook his head rapidly, but there was a hint of a guilty expression on his face.

    "Damn!" Lincoln muttered. "If they abandoned the shuttle, where could they be?"

    "Heading to the rendezvous point now, captain." Chi-Chi said.

    Lincoln thanked Chi-Chi and returned to his chair. His mind whirling over what might have happened to the missing crew members. They lost enough crew members as it was, what with them having substandard equipment and having to make jerry rigged repairs on everything.

    "I gots the lead shuttle tech on the comm for you, Cap'n." Cornrows interrupted his thoughts.

    "Talk to me," Lincoln said after punching the button on his armrest.

    "Yeah, this is Bukowski," the voice spoke with a thick Brooklyn accent. "We got inside the shuttle, and it appears to be a classic case of what's known as 'liquefaction.' You see, the shuttle's inertial dampeners weren't up to handling the forces put upon it when we were jerking it around, so the crew got to experience probably several hundred gees every time we changed direction with them in tow. Frankly, I'm surprised the shuttle survived at all. We won't know if there's any internal damage to the thing until we can get a hazmat team in there to hose it all out. I think that we might be able to save it, though you'll probably want to have the carpets replaced and the seats reupholstered. Some folks like to claim you can shampoo that stuff out, but I don't know. I ain't never had much luck with that."

    "Thank you, Mr. Bukowski." Lincoln buried his face in his hands.

    "Hey, no problem, captain. Anything else you need? I want to get out of the bay proper before the hazmat guys start spraying things down. Stuff has a tendency to go flying all over the place, and the last thing I want is to wind up with some guy's brains all over me. I have enough trouble holding on to my own, without worrying about somebody else's. Ya know what I mean?"

    "That will be all, Mr. Bukowski. Thank you." Lincoln cut the connection with his elbow and breathed heavily for several minutes.
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  7. #57
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    "Mr. Aphroodle!" Lincoln rose to his feet, shouting. "You killed those people on that shuttle! If I had known that's what you were going to do, I never have allowed you to do your plan! What do you have to say for yourself?"

    "Me sorry! Me sorry!" Aphroodle was bowing deeply and repeatedly as he spoke. "Me fix! Me fix!"

    "How, Mr. Aphroodle?"

    "Need list who died and need to be in beamer room." Aphroodle continued to bow.

    "How can I trust you? Your last plan got members of my crew killed!"

    "Didn't know that would happen, but can fix. If I fail, you can kill me."

    Lincoln stood silently for several moments as he weighed his options.

    "Okay, Mr. Aphroodle. You'll get your chance." He said finally. "Sybok, you have the conn. Doctor, Mr. Aphroodle, let's go to the transporter room. Cornrows, see if you can't figure out who was on that shuttle, and then get the information to us in the transporter room."

    The three of them stepped into the Turbolift and rode in silence to the transporter room. There was a patchwork of panels laid across the hole in the floor, where the Klingons had cut their way through to get to the lower deck. Aphroodle had chosen to do only minimal repairs to the transporter room in order that they could devote most of their time to building the defense system for Neural. Now that they were underway again, Aphroodle and his crew would be working nearly as hard at doing correct repairs on everything that had been damaged during the fight. For the engineering department, it was going to be a while longer before they could relax.

    "All right, Mister," Lincoln's voice was cold. "Show me how you're going to 'fix' the problem of the dead crew on that shuttle."

    "I show. Follow me." Aphroodle gestured for Lincoln to join him at the controls of the transporter. Lincoln watched as Aphroodle pulled up the list of names that Cornrows had found of crew members on the shuttle. Aphroodle then cross-referenced it with the transporter logs, and pulled up the files associated with the deceased's most recent trip via the transporter. Next, Aphroodle tricked the system into thinking that it had just dematerialized those people by loading those files into the pattern buffer. He then started the process to materialize them on the transporter pad.

    The crew members were confused by the site of Lincoln, Hatfield, and Aphroodle standing at the transporter controls. All of them had stepped into the transporter at different times, but none of them had done so when the captain and Hatfield were in the room. Each one of them stood silently, trying to figure out what had happened.

    "Now, I understand why McCoy hates transporters so much!" Hatfield exclaimed. "An old quack like him would be quickly out of business if other people knew how to do this! There's an old saying, 'Doctors get to bury their mistakes.' Well, not any more McCoy!"

    "Aphroodle," Lincoln was amazed. "These are really the crew members who died?"

    "Ah uh!" Aphroodle nodded enthusiastically.

    Lincoln quickly grabbed Aphroodle's face in his hands and kissed him on the forehead.

    "I think I love you!" Lincoln said, and then turned to face the bewildered crew still on the transporter pad. "Good news! You're no longer dead!"

    "What do you mean, sir? And why aren't you still down on the planet? What's happened to us?" One of them asked.

    "Its a bit difficult to explain, but the short answer is that all of you were killed fleeing from a Klingon ship. Mr. Aphroodle, was very cleverly able to use the data from the last time you were transported to bring you back. For some of you, its weeks, or days, since you last used the transporter, so you'll need to be brought up to speed on what's happened, and how you died. Dr. Hatfield will take you to sickbay to help you get adjusted."

    "Follow me," Hatfield said, stepping through the door. The puzzled crew members stepped off the transporter pad and began to follow him out.

    Captain's Log: Stardate 4257.5 All is well. The crew members Aphroodle restored are adjusting to the changes that happened during the time that they were "dead." We've commenced repairs on the Nixon as we race to catch up with Kirk and the Enterprise, based on his transmissions to Starfleet, he doesn't have appeared to have screwed up too badly, so hopefully our next mission will go better. Once we've checked out Triskelion, we'll be heading to the nearest Starbase and turning over the Klingon components we pulled from the wrecked ship to Starfleet Intelligence. I recommend full commendations for everyone involved with this mission, every member of this crew has done a remarkable job, and I don't think that there's a finer crew in the fleet, even if we are in Section 7G.
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  8. #58
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    Questions? Comments? Criticisms? I apologize for the length. I had no idea going into this that it would wind up being quite so long. Has to be one of the longest "fuck you's" ever written, I think. I hope that it didn't drag too much in spots, and that I didn't screw up continuity. Writing in ~600 word blocks is harder than I thought.
    Proud member of the '09 Phanters! K.I.L.L. S.M.U.R.F.S.
    Have you ever wondered if your mom kissed you goodnight after giving your dad a blowjob? You are now. "To be second in space is to be second in everything," LBJ

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