[Return to Archives | Return to Listing | Previous Page]

[Return to Archives | Return to Listing ]

"LATE HOURS"
By Zantus A'Ethers
SD: 9807.19

~~This is starting to get on my nerves,~~ Zantus thought to himself. It
seemed to him that almost everytime he got the tavern clean, something else
turned out to be dirty or unready. He was wearing himself out, even with his
Orion Slavemaster-induced conditioning.
The lights overhead glared harshly in Zantus' sleepy eyes, but he
continued. He soon found himself humming the song that he'd learned on Zeta
Leo IV. "o/~ Alouette, gentille alouette... o/~"
He thought bitterly of the years he'd been trapped on Xenar by the Orion
Slavemasters. The Xenar had been in a war with the pirate race for years,
and the war ended three years before Zantus' birth. He'd been born a slave,
and the Orions never let him forget it. When, late at night, he'd stopped
his work to stare in childish wonder at the stars above, he was beaten.
Then, when he was eight, his father, Lucus A'Ethers, intervened when one of
the Slavemasters beat him. The Orion turned on Lucus and smashed him across
the face with his electrowhip, then continued his brutal lesson until Lucus
could no longer stand or defend himself. Then the Slavemaster let his
subordinates work him over. By the time they were done, Lucus had been dead
for quite some time.
Like many other Xenar, Zantus began then to loathe the Orions controlling
his homeworld, wishing them ill. He sought to escape the oppression by
travelling to the stars, but his petitions to join the Supply Runner crews
were repeatedly turned down. Then Zanthus heard of the rumor that the XSR
Ayair was liberated by the crew of a Starfleet vessel, then granted asylum on
Starbase 51.
He petitioned even more now to join the XSR crews, but the Slavemasters
were wise to Xenar hopes. They sent an Orion on each vessel to ensure there
was no rebellion. Slavelord Jaex Tux'mal sought to bring the Rogue Ayair
crew back into the fold, but his envoys were sent away.
After Cmdr. Jay Winger of Starfleet came to the Xenar Homeworld under the
guise of ex-Rogue Magus A'Sumart, he freed the Sentus [representative] Helen
C'Antwel and the worker Belthasar A'Takerl. Winger, C'Antwel, and A'Takerl
made it to SB51, but Jaex Tux'mal swore to get them back.
More envoys were sent, and Zantus' petition to join one such envoy was
accepted. Then, upon arrival at the Starbase, Zantus and the envoy crew went
Rogue. He spent some time on the Starbase, mingling with the other Rogue
Xenar, before he began to once again yearn to explore the stars.
So, he went to Helen C'Antwel and asked to take the vessel that took her to
freedom (the XSR Manan) on a tour of the Alpha Quadrant. C'Antwel hesitated
to let him go, but finally granted his request. Zantus' tour was a quick
one, but he did manage to see much of the Federation.
Then the news came to him that Sentus C'Antwel's proposal to set up the
Xenar Coalition was accepted. Zantus rushed to Zeta Leo IV in the Manan for
the ceremonies, watching as C'Antwel was appointed Sybilus, and the
government-in-exile was established. He stayed shortly, but his curiousity
got to him once more.
He borrowed an old shuttle from the abandoned survey station on Zeta Leo IV
to explore the Beta Quadrant. Then, as money began to become a problem,
Zantus sought business deals to keep the shuttle running. In his naivete, he
entered into a deal with some slimy Ferengi and lost most of his money. The
Ferengi accepted his shuttle as payment.
So he hitched a ride on Scitar Transports to OPC for a job. And now--
Zantus shook himself out of his stupor. ~~Mustn't dwell on the past,~~
Zantus thought to himself, ~~when the future is so ready for exploring.~~
He wiped down the bartop with a rag and looked casually out the window. He
spotted a Starfleet type heading there. Zantus put on his welcome expression
when the officer stopped and listened to a communication over his commbadge.
The officer turned and headed away.
Zantus sighed. So much for that idea. ~~Ah, well, there'll be other days
with more business. At least, I hope so, or Mr. Bylt will fire me.~~
He continued his duties before fatigue fell on him. He turned off the
lights and headed up to his loft to catch forty winks.

END

[Return to Archives | Return to Listing ]

Agreement of Dispute.
Signed Stardate 9805.01
Deposited with Registrar Stardate 9805.02

This document does confirm that one Lt. Commander Johnathan Realcar Scott
does hereby release one Galex, Owner, Operator, Caretaker, Bartender,
Proprietor, and Legal Counsel of Galex's Resort of any and all liability
regarding incidents that occurred on Stardate 9804.28 within the confines of
Galex's Resort. In exchange for this release Galex, Owner, Operator,
Caretaker, Bartender, Proprietor, and Legal Counsel of Galex's
Resort does hereby grant Lt. Commander Johnathan Realcar Scott one favor to
be defined at a later date and to consist of anything within the confines of
Federation Law.

Lt. Commander JR Scott
Second Officer
Outpost Cousteau

Galex
Owner, Operator, Caretaker, Bartender, Proprietor, and Legal Counsel of
Galex's Resort
Promanade Suites 11-69
Outpost Cousteau

[Return to Archives | Return to Listing ]

One More Day...
a log featuring yours truly and the now infamous....

Freighter Captain!

".... and those who follow the path of the righteous shall have their reward,
and if they fall as Lucifer fell, at the gateway to Paradise!"

0900 hours Stardate 59805.09

Scott leaned back in his chair, putting his feet up on the desk. The chair
gave a small creak under his weight but Scott's eyes remained focused on the
single door watching, waiting. Mentally he replayed how he intended for this
conversation to play out certain that in the end, the objective would be
achieved. The room was small and windowless. It could not have been more
than three meters across and four wide, but it gave
that appearance. The walls were unpainted cold, gunmetal gray. The only
furniture consisted of a tall, plush desk chair, in front of it was
positioned a desk. Strangely enough several crude spot welds bound the desk
to the floor, in front of the desk, equally secured was a small uncomfortable
looking metal chair. Directly behind the chair was the only entrance and
above it a simple digital chronometer.

The chronometer advanced to 0901 and Scott frowned, this was much unlike the
Major to be even the slightest bit late. Suddenly the door slide open,
revealing two security personal and a rather scruffy looking man wedged
between them. Scott fought back the urge to smile at the irony recalling the
normal vocative state this man had formally enjoyed. One of the guards took
the first step into the room and was the first to speak, "I'm sorry Commander
the Major was unaffordably detained, trouble with the Ferengi." Scott nodded
and motioned for them to bring in the scruffy looking man. The younger
security officer led the man into the room and gestured to the metal chair.
After a few moments the man lowered himself into the chair. The security
officers instantly moved to the door and assumed an 'at ease' posture. Scott
waited several moments before saying in a soft crisp voice, "Dismissed
Ensigns." The older of the two blinked in surprise and the younger looked
downright frightened. As the older opened his mouth to speak the Commander
interrupted him, "Dismissed," from the accent placed on both "Ds" the
Ensigns could have no question as to what he wished for them to do. First
the younger and then the older stepped through the door.

As the door swished shut behind them the soft click of the lock mechanism
was audibly heard. Scott waited a few moments before opening the
conversation. "I trust that you slept well Captain?"
For the first time the scruffy man seemed to become animated, "Quite well
Commander, your accommodations here are much better than what I would
expect." Scott nodded and reached towards the items on the desk, "Coffee
Captain?" The man shook his head no and Scott poured a single cup of coffee
and returned the pot to the heating panel.
"Have you had any progress in your efforts to speak with the JAG Captain,"
Scott asked a few moments later. The Captain shook his head before
responding, "As of yet my efforts have been ineffective."
Scott nodded, "And once your affairs with JAG are over have you given any
thought to the future?" The man blinked, that had not been something he'd
expected and he hadn't really given the matter any thought what so ever. "I
have been ... otherwise occupied," the man stammered.
"I suppose you would not be considering such venues as of yet," came the
reply. Slowly Scott sipped his coffee watching the man across from him
carefully as he did. "I won't mislead you, your are charged with several
very serious matters. Failure to properly maintain a Federation flagged
merchantman, Falsifying maintenance logs, endangering the public welfare, and
the list goes on my dear Captain."
The Captain nodded and rubbed his jaw as he listened to the list of charges
Scott was reading off, he'd done them all, no question of that, but he had no
intention of being arraigned in court over it. "Captain how do you like
Outpost Cousteau," was Scott's next question. The Captain thought for a few
moments, "I was here several years ago back when the erected the first dome,
but I haven't been back since ... but as I said, you run a top notch
brig!"
Scott rubbed his thumb over the padd he held in one hand, "Captain I'll get
right to the point, you're a good man, you've made some errors, and you
attempted to take a Ferengi view of the world in sacrificing the saftey of
your crew and passengers; however, despite this there is one single redeeming
factor: you did save around a hundred Thallion civilians from their own
vessel shortly before the destruction of their vessel." Scott paused for a
moment to let his words sink in.
"Your 'ship' and I use that term losely has been towed to Starbase 259 to be
disassembled and sold for scrap, your crew has returned to Orion. In short
you are currenty a man standing at a crossroads, you are about to face the
biggest decsion of your life, and you won't have a single bit of influence in
that decision."
"From what I know of our beloved Captain, it is my belief that if you appear
before her genuinely repentent, then she will let you get by without a prison
term. And that brings us to alternate forms of punishment: as you youself
know Outpost Cousteau is extremely new, and several factors were not taken
into consideration when the outpost was designed. One of these is the dome
system that composes the main outpost, the domes have a tendency to
become dirty, and quiete easily at that."

For the first time the man frowned, "What are you implying Commander?"
Scott Smiled, "I am implying nothing Captain, I"m challenging you, you have
two options to accept a prison term that no one really wants to give you, or
the second option: remain here on the outpost -- in a decent, hard working
job -- you would of course receive a small salary and in a year or so maybe
you and Galex will be rivals over economic surpremecy of the promanade!"
The Captain gave Scott a look like he was insane and Scott simly smiled, "I
await your decsion Captain."
The reply was fast and curt, "Guard!" The Captain instantly stood waiting
on his escorts to return to restore him to his cell. For the first time
Scott rose and looked right at the Captain, directly into his eyes. The two
guards instantly repeared and took hold of the Captain to escort him back to
his home, holding, level eight, cellblock one, cell four."
Scott watched the man go, before stepping from the Security interogation
room with a smile on his face, everything was going as according to plan, if
that continued he could solve to problems, What was the human expression?
Kill two mice with a single trap? He nodded to himself that must be it. By
this time he was out of security and stepped onto the Turbolift nodding
absentmindedly to a Lt. already on the lift.

[Return to Archives | Return to Listing ]

The Chicken Part dos

> The Vulcan/Betazoid XO lay in the middle of the cooridor, surronded by
> mounds of feathers and chicken droppings. He was Signifcantly Less Than
> Pleased.
Scott stepped around the corner and was confronted with a sight straight out
of the annals of history... or maybe cartoons. The coridor was strewn with
feathers and other odd looking... bits of stuff, and right in the middle of
it, with the Chicken perched atop his chest was the XO. Three plans of
action hit Scott at the excat same time, the first involved drawing his
phaser and utilizing it to make KFC look bland, the second involved simply
breaking into laughter, and the third involved turning tail and running
(after all this was the chicken).
And he did none of these, for several seconds Scott and the Chicken simply
stared at one another, apparently attempting to determine which one was more
surprised. By the time they broke eye contact, little x's had begun to form
over Surak's eyes. This visual stimuli spurred Scott to life, unfortunatly
the chicken choose a similar time to react. Scott dashed over the the
chicken and sized it by the neck. The chicken, having won the All American
Three Toed Claw Kicking contest four times, lashed out at Scott with its feet
slashing across his forearm. Instintively Scott released the Chicken, which
hit the floor with a hearty thump.
The Chicken; hereafter refered to as The Enemy, being one sixteenth feline;
promtly landed on its feet, and proceeded to rare back and slam its combat
hardened beak into Scott's leg. Suffice to say, Scott did not take kindly to
this (and neither did any of the rest of the crew) as Scott let lose a howl
of agony that could be heard from the Cathedral, to Akidos's hideout, all the
way through the vacmum of space to the orbital facilities. Scott's
second reaction was to remove the threat, and he did so promtly. The enemy
saw a totally new meaning to the phrase, "kick the Dane's head," as Scott's
twelve kilo combat boot came into contact with the enemy's breast. The Enemy
was sent flying away from Scott towards the wall, which by conincidence
contained a turbolift.
It was this turbolift that the now infamous Freighter Captain emerged, the
enemy was sent flying over the Captain's rather high head, to collide with
the far wall of the Turbolift, a loud squawk was heard as the enemy followed
so many other villians before it and slowly slid down the turbolift wall.
The doors to the lift closed leaving the three men in various states of
injury: Surak with chest contusions, Scott with a bleeding shin and slashed
arm, and the Freighter Captain with feathers in his head (which I might add
did little to aid his already precarious mental status).

next?

[Return to Archives | Return to Listing ]

"Trials and Trails"
Part One
Joint Log - Galex and Lt. Commander JR Scott
Outpost Cousteau - "The Contest" proposed by Lt. Silver
SD 9805.24

Galex is still muttering, "Jahlupar. I try to stay out of the place." He
has not stopped grumbling since the Lt. Commander "insisted" that the Ferengi
merchant be his partner in the Contest. Grumbling again Galex mutters,
"Rustic but charming in a primitive way, hah! It's a backwards little hick
town that has nothing but fisherman and trappers. Not 2 slips of latinum to
rub together in the whole damn town!"
The LtCmdr slaps him across the back, "Relax, Ferengi, you won't need any
latinum out there! And knowing how to fish and trap would come in handy.
You just stick with me, we're a shoo-in! Besides you've got a rather nice
secondary prize coming in if we just beat Nikki and Kitren back my, friend!"
The LtCmdr had already given Galex the pack he was expected to carry. The
squat little Ferengi seemed miserable already. His best suit was stained
with salt from his sweat and from the seawater he'd had to wade through. His
fine sharkskin boots were ruined. He'd send the Federation a bill (inflated
for sentimental value) to replace the boots and the suit, but he would have
to wear these clothes for several days, hiking through the wilderness
of Vantar IV. No one had anything in his size. At least the boots were
comfortable, and partly water resistant. It was the straps from the backpack
that irritated him most.
Scott was worried, but not considerably. They had made very poor time from
the boat, he'd timed it, twenty one minutes to get to their starting
position, and it was only two klicks from the boat. It was a hundred a fifty
klicks back to OPC, and if they expected to get there in any time to compete
with the rest they needed to double their pace. His eyes shifted over to
Galex who was sitting on a rock emptying water from his boots. Scott forced
himself to hide a grin, he might not like the little Ferengi but he could
respect him.
They stood patiently waiting for Mr. Silver's signal to begin. Galex had
suggested they start without the signal, but the Lt. Cmdr. insisted they wait
until the official starting signal. They would not win by cheating.
Galex had let slip his previous affiliation with certain Ferengi Pirates.
When he was younger he'd been quite the bold starfarer, rising through the
ranks to eventually reach Storesmaster onboard the Ferengi Cutter Silverfish.
He'd seen his share of hard times, and he had some survival skills, but all
of that had been decades ago.
Now he was approaching middle-age, growing a bit thick in the middle, and
his personal profit margin had widened considerably (due to some careful
manipulation of the records on the Silverfish, and a few wise investments -
including the Resort at Outpost Cousteau). He was no longer desperate enough
to deal in piracy or to live on the edge like he once did. Arms-trade,
maybe, slightly modified gambling tables, perhaps, underhanded deals,
certainly, but wilderness survival? The hard life?
Scott was sure that Galex might have been quite a formidable opponet in his
youth but then it was aparent that Galex wasn't in his youth any longer,
Galex reminded Scott of some people on his homeworld, so self absorbed, so
foolish that they missed out on life. That was one of the reasons that Scott
had all but ordered Galex to be his partner, he was worried for the little
Ferengi, not everything could be learned back at the Outpost, alot of it was
out here in the wilderness, by this point in time Galex had both his boots
back on and was lying back on a rock, trying to dry himself with the sun.
Scott shook his head as they heard the starting signal in the distance, Scott
pushed himself to his feet and was at Galex's side in a single stride, he
seized the frame of Galex's backpack and hauled the Ferengi to his feet,
before turning and starting out in what he judged to be the general
direction
of the ocean... after all Morgan had never said how they had to get back to
the Outpost, and Scott's instints told him to stay within sight of water.

[Return to Archives | Return to Listing ]

"Trials and Trails"
Part Two: Bloody Ferengi!
Joint Log - Galex and Lt. Commander JR Scott
Outpost Cousteau - "The Contest" proposed by Lt. Silver
SD 9805.24

Galex squirmed in the chest high mud, the worst day of his life had begun
and it was all Scott's fault. The Commander had insisted that they stay near
the water, and that was how Galex had gotten into this mess. Galex had been
walking along the beach about twenty feet behind Scott when suddenly WHAM!!
The sand had colasped out from under him, burying him in mud up to his chest.
Scott hadn't noticed at first;
however, Galex's sudden, "AAAHHH I"m being eaten!!!" Had quickly drawn his
attention.
Scott quickly turned at the cry and spotted Galex floundering in the sand
like a beached whale, what had happened became apparent instantly. An
underground stream had run under that section of beach to the ocean, and in
time it had eroded the sand above it until eventually, when Galex walked
across it, the sand had given way. Scott sat down his pack and jogged back
over towards Galex until he was within about ten feet. By that time Galex's
little
pointed teeth were chattering constantly and he continued to bawl about
"being eaten."
As Scott walked up Galex bellowed, "Don't just stand there you Starfleet
Buffon! Help me!"
Scott frowned at the insult and responded in kind, "Well Mister Fleet of
Foot what would you suggest I do, Walk over there and pull you out?"
Galex's head quickly bobbed up and down and he chattered, "Y-Y-Yes-s, N-N-ow
Hurrrry!" Scott grined strangely and took one step forward, instantly the
ground gave out from under him and he found himself knee deep in mud,
"Anymore bright ideas?"
Galex stared in disbelief at what had just happened, but it made sense, if
the sand couldn't hold him then it most certainly couldn't hold the
Commander. "What are we going to doooo?" whined Galex.
At that Scott grined, "Well Mister Barkeep, as it was only a few days
ago since you informed Kitren, Nikki, and I that you most certainly could
swim, my advice to you would be to do so, but just in case why don't you
shove your pack over here.... just in case...?"
Galex stared at the Commander in disbelief, but some inner force took him
through the motions of removing the haevy pack and shoving it through the mud
to the Commander. Scott quickly grabbed the pack and hoisted it out of the
mudhole as if it weighed nothing. Then Galex took a deep breath and began to
swim for it.
It was all Scott could do not to laugh as he watched Galex "swim" (commonly
refered to as wallow) in the mud. But despite all the apparent incumberments
Galex eventually made it to the edge of the pit, where Scott siezed the back
of his shirt and pulled him, coughing, out of the mud. Galex made a quick
inventory of himself: his fine boots were truly ruined now, his pants were
stained with five different varities of muck, his shirt had been torn by
brambles and was coated in mud, his chronometer had stopped (damned Andorian
quality!), and most importantly he had some strange variant of mud or water
in his ear.

[Return to Archives | Return to Listing ]

"COMPETITION"
By Zantus A'Ethers
SD: 9807.24

The mysterious creature leapt at the armored figure, claws extended to gore
its victim. But the Armored One sidestepped its attack and lunged into the
Creature with a gleaming cane-like staff. The staff punctured the Creature,
which howled with pain. The Armored One concentrated, then chanted in a
strange tongue. The staff glowed, and the Armored One jerked his staff to
the side, tearing a hole in its side.
The Creature shrieked louder, and spun toward its attacker with its claws
slashing. The Armored One ducked and swung his staff low and took the
Creature's legs off. The Creature made a weak keening sound before dying on
the ground. The Armored One stood, holding his staff ready still, like a
sword, before relaxing. He rested the short staff on the ground, then said
clearly, "Computer, end program."
The Creature's corpse, as well the armor, vanished as the holosuite
disengaged. The Armored One was none other than the meek Zantus A'Ethers.
He still held his cane-staff, however. He looked at it with pleasure, then
made a few slashes in the air before chuckling and leaving the holosuite.
He hooked the cane on his arm and took out a padd.
Mr. Bylt, the holosuite is now fully operational. Forgive me for saying
so, sir, but you could have done better business if you had kept the Tavern
clean. I hope business picks up soon, because Galex's Resort is still
stealing customers. I hope you're enjoying your vacation. Sincerely, Zantus
A'Ethers.
Zantus whistled "Alouette" to himself as he stepped into the Tavern's
dining area. He was suddenly startled to see three men standing in the
doorway. He stammered for a moment before finally asking, "Apipoulai,
gentlemen, I'm Zantus A'Ethers, the bartender here at the Any Port Tavern,
how can I help you?"
"We're looking for the owner of this establishment," one of the men said.
"I presume that would be you?"
"Ah, no," Zantus replied. "The owner is Mr. Bylt. He's on Bolias right
now. Can I interest any of you in a drink?"
"Ah, a shot of ale?" said the man to Zantus' left.
"Quit, Reno!" snapped the man who'd first spoke. He turned back to the
Xenar. "We're just here to inform you that you should pack up and leave now.
This establishment will never get off the ground."
"I beg to differ," Zantus said. "We are fully stocked, everything is
clean, and the holosuites are now operational." He walked around behind the
bar. "Now, if you gentlemen aren't going to order anything, I must ask you
to leave?"
"How do you intend to do that?" asked the man to Zantus' right.
"Rude has a point," the first man said. Reno nodded in agreement. The man
continued, "How do you intend to make us leave?"
All three were surprised to see Zantus produce a compact gun of some kind.
He aimed it. "With this."
Rude laughed. "A toy gun? Ooh, I'm scared." He moved forward menacingly.
Zantus quickly pulled the trigger. There was a dull thud sound, followed
by a second as Rude's body hit the floor. Reno and the other man looked at
him, then glowered at Zantus with malicious intent. "He's not dead," Zantus
reassured them. "He's just unconscious. It's a sonic disruptor. It's not
lethal. But, don't make me crank up the setting. I guarantee it gets a
little painful at a higher level."
Reno tugged on the other's arm. "Tseng, let's go. I don't wanna push my
luck."
Tseng frowned and snapped his fingers. Reno moved to Rude and picked his
body up. "We won't forget this, boyo," the brute said. "And our employer
will hear of this." The three thugs left.
Zantus cranked the sonic disruptor down to its lowest setting and switched
on the safety. He replaced it in its storage location under the bartop and
proceeded to modify his message to Mr. Bylt. Evidently, Galex was going to
go to any length to drive the Tavern out of business.
He then smiled to himself. That holosuite program had really given him a
confidence boost. He'd have to try that one out more often.

END

[Return to Archives | Return to Listing ]

Foreword: This log will not contain many (in fact, zero) references to the
Outpost. I include it because the events that take place here will have
repercussions on Zantus' life via Zeta Leo IV.
This log contains references to characters as yet unintroduced into the
Zantus Logs. They come from my other SIM-o-nym: Jay Winger, the Captain of
the USS Lothlorien. Winger is constantly caught up in an investigation into
the villainous Manor Complex (run by his alternate universe doppelganger) and
into the clandestine Clonus Project (run by the Orion Slavelord of Xenar,
Jaex Tux'mäl).
Therefore, a quick list of characters. Eric Cantwell is Jay Winger's evil
doppelganger. Kharver is a Bajoran murderer working for Cantwell. Prime is
a rogue product of the Clonus Project and one of Cantwell's top
lieutenants. Jon Charles is a Grigari-hybrid in Jaex Tux'mäl's employ on the
Clonus Project. Switchback is another Grigari-hybrid in Tux'mäl's employ
there. Project Mojo is Tux'mäl's code name for a new Prime-level
clone in the making. Commodore Carlton Brisk is the Starfleet Security
Advisor, the one to whom Winger answers on his investigations, and the
successor of the Cantwell-murdered Comdr. Forrest Redman. Emmanuel Goldstein
is the psuedonym of an informant supplying information about the Manor
Complex. Mark Dramner is simply a friend of Winger's, an expert with
computers, a hacker, you'd call him.
Whew! That's a lot to write. Don't worry, any future Forewords will be
shorter. Now, without further ado, on with the Zantus Log.
"BAD MOJO"
By Zantus A'Ethers
SD: 9808.04
THE OFFICE OF CARLTON BRISK
"Computer," came the crisp voice of Carlton Brisk, "contact Captain Winger
on the Lothlorien. Immediately, if not sooner."
<<Please restate request.>>
"Nevermind, I'll do it myself." The commodore pulled the commlink closer
and within a minute or two, the dark-haired captain was on the screen.
"Captain Winger, pleasure to see you in one piece."
"Likewise, Commodore," Winger replied. "This isn't a pleasure call,
though, is it?"
"Very astute, Captain," Brisk said. "It's not. There's new data on the
Manor Complex."
"I'm all ears."
"Yesterday, we received a communiqué from the Psi Cassiopea Sector. It
contained sensitive information from the Complex, but not nearly enough for
us to rationalize ignoring Psi Cassiopean protocols by directly attacking
Cantwell," Brisk said. He tapped controls, and Winger suddenly looked
slightly off center, as if at a datascreen. "That's the communiqué. It's
signed 'Emmanuel Goldstein.'"
Winger gave a small snicker. "That's from 1984 by George Orwell. Emmanuel
Goldstein was the name of the leader of the anti-Party Brotherhood. That
means that whoever this Goldstein is, he's not sending this information with
Cantwell's knowledge."
"That's the conclusion I came to," Brisk said. "I've shared this
information with no one, and the only copy of this letter I have is in my
private database, and that's protected by your friend Dramner's firewall
programs."
"Understood. My copy is going right into mine. I'll keep my eyes and ears
open, sir. I'll let you know if I get anything on this Emmanuel Goldstein.
Winger out."
The captain's face was replaced by the ensignia of Starfleet Security. The
Security Advisor leaned back in his synthleather chair and sighed. He had
come into his position suddenly, upon the death of Forrest Redman at the
hands of the criminal Eric Cantwell, and was still adapting to the countless
files of information that poured into his terminal. He now knew that some of
those files may be corrupt, planted or altered by Cantwell himself,
and was taking the necessary steps.
Plus, Goldstein's letter stated that Cantwell had gotten information that
Jaex Tux'mäl's Clonus Project is developing another clone with the psionic
powers on the level of the one called Prime. All this told Brisk that times
were not going to be going smoothly.
"I need a valium," Brisk muttered.

THE CLONUS PROJECT
A leering grin crept onto the face of Jaex Tux'mäl as the cloning cylinder
drained of the orange-yellow fluid within. The form within collapsed against
one of the sides. Tux'mäl activated controls. The flat, yet subtly deranged
voice of Jon Charles pierced the semisilence. "Retracting breathing
aparatus."
The face mask came off the clone's face. The clone was motionless. The
high, also subtly deranged voice of Switchback spoke now. "Activating
quickawake." A small pulse of electricity was sent into the clone via the
electrodes connected to him. The clone spasmed, then smacked a fist against
the transparisteel cylinder. A feral growl was audible through the
microphones secreted in the cylinder. The clone began to beat on the side of
the tube.
Charles looked uneasy. "You sure that tube'll hold?"
"Yes," Tux'mäl replied. "It would take a high-powered phaser rifle set to
maximum ten minutes to punch through.
The transparisteel suddenly spiderwebbed as the clone beat on the cylinder.
Switchback saw it and said, "Better tell him that."
"Release a sedative into the cylinder," Tux'mäl said. "I can't have him
breaking loose before the last bit of programming is put in."
A slightly blue gas filled it, and the clone began to slow, then slumped
against the sides again. Tux'mäl nodded. "Remove the electrodes," he
commanded. They detached from the clone's body and were withdrawn through
the top of the cylinder.
"Vital signs are stable," Charles reported.
"Psionic registers indicate that his brain is functioning at peak
efficiency, correcting for the sedative. His psionic powers register higher
than Prime's original level," Switchback added.
"Good," Tux'mäl said. "Get him a uniform, then get ready to dress him fast
once I release him."
The two lackeys ran off and returned with a drab olive-green uniform and a
dartgun. Tux'mäl looked at the weapon with a frown. "We might need it,"
Switchback said. "Besides, it only contains a concentrated sedative."
Tux'mäl nodded and then depressed the button on his console. The
transparisteel lowered into the cylinder's base, and the clone fell forward,
right into the arms of Charles. The lackey set him down and quickly pulled
the shirt over him and then did the same with the pants. He then moved back
and produced a dartgun of his own.
The clone, unlike much of the others at the Project, was not similar to Jay
Winger, the Origin of Sample 987Alpha. There was a reason for that. This
clone was derived from Sample 867Delta. He was a tad taller than the
987Alpha Clones, with wider shoulders and longer legs. He was not hugely
muscular, but he was well-built. His eyes were a deep green, and his hair
was a dull white. He had a narrower jaw and more angular features. He did
have
the earmarks of a Xenar, so Charles and Switchback knew immediately that the
Sample's Origin was from the enslaved planet.
The clone awoke. He looked right at Charles, then left at Switchback.
Then he turned his gaze up at Tux'mäl. He looked at his hands, then at his
uniform. The Clonemaster chortled. "Mojo."
The clone looked up sharply. "Is that my name?"
"Yes," Tux'mäl said. "Your Project Designation is Mojo. I am your Master.
Jaex Tux'mäl. You receive orders from only one person: me."
Mojo looked at Charles and Switchback again. "And they are?"
"Of no consequence," the Orion said. "They exist only to serve me here in
the Project. Do not concern yourself with them."
"Yes—" Mojo paused, then: "–Master." He took a step forward. Charles and
Switchback raised their dartguns slightly. Mojo gave them a passing glance.
Do not concern yourself with them. He turned his gaze back up to Tux'mäl and
continued forward. The two lackeys moved to block him, but they were
suddenly swept at each other. The two collided and fell to the floor,
unconscious.
"Excellent," Tux'mäl said. "Your psionic powers are functioning. Much of
what you know of them is instinctive; it was programmed into you."
"Programmed?" Mojo asked.
"Yes," the Clonemaster said. "You are a clone, derived from Sample
865Delta. Your Origin's name is unimportant. You are my servant now,
remember that."
"Yes—" Again, a pause. "–Master."
"The rest of your knowledge of your psionics will come with training."
Jaex Tux'mäl arose from his seat to go to the turbolift and meet his new
clone. "Your training will commence immediately."

THE MANOR COMPLEX
The clone designated Prime once looked exactly like Jay Winger, the Origin
of Sample 987Alpha. But since his 'activation,' his psionic powers had
developed out of control. As a result of his concentration to keep them
under control, he'd lost weight, making him appear skeletal. His hair now
seemed to shimmer in the light, and his eyes were no longer the deep brown
that they had been; instead, they were
a glowing greyish blue.
Prime was working on a datapadd, going over Complex finance figures, when
he suddenly gasped and spasmed violently. As his psionic concentration
slipped, a burst of psionic energy swept the room, knocking down several of
the workers. The air around Prime seemed to carry a charge, and the stylus
in his hand heated. The clone dropped it and it burst into flames on the
floor.
Then, as suddenly as it started, Prime calmed. He stopped twitching, and
his blinked his eyes. He put a hand to his temple. A darkclad form entered
the room. A pair of dark sunglasses covered the man's eyes. It was Eric
Cantwell. "Prime, what the hell happened?"
"I'm–not sure," he said. "I was suddenly hit by a force of extreme psionic
energy."
"A rogue telepath?" Cantwell asked.
"No," Prime said. "Something much more powerful and advanced. No, this
was something similar to me."
Cantwell glanced behind him, at the disreputable face of his associate
Kharver. They shared a mutual glance of knowledge, then he looked back at
Prime. "I see...Should we get you to the Medlab?"
"No," Prime said. "I'll be fine."
Cantwell turned to leave, and gave a small nod to Kharver, who nodded back.
This strange occurrence beared looking into. Especially with Jaex Tux'mäl
working on his mysterious Project Mojo. Prime was not stable enough for
Cantwell's future plans.
"We'll have to eliminate the threat he may pose," Cantwell said to Kharver.

END LOG

Afterword: Should you wish full background data on the Manor Complex, the
Clonus Project, or anything else that may require further explanation in this
log, please email me, and I will clue you in. —Zantus A'Ethers

[Return to Archives | Return to Listing ]

"The Secret Life of Dante Surak pt 1"
PL Surak

Surak stepped out of his quarters and looked cautiously down the corridor.
With his duffle bag over one shoulder, he tiptoed down the hall. He quickly
reached an emergency exit which opened to the outside of the main Outpost
complex. Dante deactivated the security alarm with both his Command
Authorization Code and his quick Vulcan computer skills. As the door slid
open silently, Surak stepped out feeling the night wind on his
neck.
The Captain pulled a set of night vision goggles from his bag, and placed
them over his eyes. Walking with the goggles on, he scanned the defense
perimeter. He could see Security guards on the the ridge and even made out
LtJg Kya turning to look his way. Surak quickly somersaulted behind a large
shrubbery.
The shrubbery's full vegetation made a convienent hiding spot. Once safely
behind the shrubbery, Dante began shedding his uniform and unpacking his bag.
He removed his uniform pants and replaced them with a pair of "blue
jeans". The uniform top came off next replaced with a white T-shirt and a
leather jacket. Surak then sat on the grassy ground changing his standard
issue shoes, for a pair of black leather "combat boots". Rising he grabbed
the most important piece of equipment for his "adventure".
Dante removed the small plastic case from the bag. Opening the box, he
removed the latex items and placed one on one ear and the other on the other
ear. The latex pieces attached at the tops of his ears, serving to mask the
Vulcanness of his auditory sense organs. The pointedness disappeared,
replaced by ears that looked human, albeit large human.
With the disguise complete, he opened the bag and stuffed the uniform
inside.
Stuffing the duffle insid ethe shrubbery, the transformed Vulcan emerged
from behind the plant as he slipped his comm. badge in his back pocket. Surak
walked towards the city with a slight spring in his step.

TBC

[Return to Archives | Return to Listing ]

"A Promenade Of Chances"
Written By: Lt. Chase Logan & Ens. Dionysius Xanroux
SD: 9808.04

Taking not nearly as much likely to the next change in the department,
Security/Tactical was looking more and more like a parade of muses than it
did an actual department. Granted Chase had been the one who made stone
muses of the personnel and placed them on the conference lounge three days
ago, he wasn't counting on swabbing the deck with a mop. Perhaps guard duty
for the head or something, but swabbing the deck with a mop? Only Furball
would
give him that duty.
A grin came across his face as he thought about Kitren. Such an
interesting tar-- officer. Always with a pur and a claw. And strangely
there with a mop and a fresh bucket of suds for him. She was gonna rub this
in for awhile, he knew it.
Besides the mopping of the deck, there'd had actually been time for Chase
to relax, if for a little while. That's when he found himself caught up in a
corner on the Promenade doing absolutely nothing but being bored and sulking
for some reason.
"There's the star," a voice seemed to carry itself across to him. Coming
before him was a green skinned man dressed in a medic's uniform. Taking a
better look, Chase noted defined Orion traits.
"Hello. And thanks, I think," the blonde just scratched his head in slight
confusion. "How are you?"
"Okay. A little tired." Giving a pleasant smile, the medic leaned against
the wall. "I am Dionysius Xandroux of Orion Prime," at least Chase was on
key with the Orion fact.
Returning the smile Chase replied, "It's nice to meet you, Dionysius, I'm
Chase...," before he could finished, Dionysius nodded.
"I know who you are, everyone does," he explained, bring Chase to turn a
few shades of red.
"Doesn't always happen like that, I assure you.," stated, silently breaking
into a sweat. "Just guess I'm bound to get some looks for the price of my
actions."
"Your actions?" Dionysius' accent gave a hint of his exotic background,
seemingly to urge Chase to continue on.
"Lets just say I've spent my due time in a counselor's office about my
knack for...how do I put this? Computer spats," he laughed, a grin starting
to show upon his lips. The once rigid mood now far more comfortable.
The medic's tilted his head to the side, listening intently to the
Lieutenant with distinct interest in his words and in him. "You fight, sir,
with computer?" His green eyes focused on Chase, dilating in their confused
gaze.
"Futile attempt, I know, but my luck isn't improving since coming to the
Beta Quadrant. Though practice makes perfect with almost everything," he
spoke with a charming grin in return. Deep in his thoughts a strange emotion
seemed triggered, having an actual conversation with someone who was
interested made him settle and become at ease with his surroundings since
first setting foot on OPC.
Dionysius shifted the conversation, allowing himself to see how much of
Chase he really knew of, and how Chase knew in turn. "Have you read my
files, sir, or do I remain at an advantage?"
"In truth I've yet to see your file, so yeah, you can assume you remain at
an advantage. Though I'm a quick study. I see that you're Orion, and that
youur name is Dionysius."
"Your information is flawed," the medic responded, Chase's grin fading
quickly. "I'm not entirely Orion, but half Human."
Shifting uneasily, Chase tried to think of something. "Guess that explains
why you're the medic and I'm the security guard," he laughed, trying to
recover. "But please do except my apology."
"It's not offensive, sir, I look perfectly Orion. Would take a tricorder
to tell otherwise."
Before even opening his mouth, Chase hoped the next set words wouldn't have
him chewing on his boot later. "You're far from offensive, you don't have
anything to worry about."
The half Orion just looked at Chase with an plain expression. "Explain."
"Uhm." Swallowing hard, Chase cowardly at the request. He knew his face,
in all its reddening glory, had given Dionysius a clue into the uneasiness of
the situation. Something a security officer is not suppose to allow.
Looking down at his fumbling fingers, Chase just breathed silently once
before parting his lips to speak. "To be entirely honest, and since you
asked, you're rather attractive." Chase was known for not having a way with
words.
No matter what they were.
"Yes, I know," Dionysius returned, a possible sign of pride being revealed.
"I was the most attractive teenage boy on all of Trading Post IV. That is why
I was to be sold." The Orion paused a beat before continuing. "I was also
the only one who didn't do an exotic dance for the talent portion of the
competition."
"I can understand that, from what I know of their, I mean, your customs."
Raised with the belief of a Federation which guarenteed freedom among its
populace, the single largest downfall was the limited powers it held for
those outside of that Federation. One of few things that made Chase's skin
crawl. Shaking himself free from the thoughts of injustice, which was easy
enough, he keyed into Dionysius' last statement. "What did you do?"
"I sang an Earth song from the twentieth century."
"Really?" The mood lightened with a bright smile thankful for the change
of pace. "Do tell."
"I doubt you've heard of it... it was called Mon Dieu."
"Doesn't ring a bell, though if duty permits, perhaps I'll get a chance to
hear it?"
"At your nearest convenience," Dionysius replied with a delicate smile.
"I might just have to take him up on that offer," Chase thought to himself.
"So, what part of Earth are you from?"
"Northern hemisphere, though Motreal, Canada to be exact."
"Are you a francophone, then?"
Chase shook his head. "I spent most of my time in global classrooms than
anything else. Couldn't keep away from the water, so I spent a great deal of
time away from Canada as a child. The cultural never sat with me, I guess.
With the transports all accessible it was easy to move around from place to
place, too."
"That is unfortunate, for my song is in the old tongue of French."
"Oh?"
Dionysius just nodded in response.
"Sounds like something I'd be interested in hearing anyhow." Yet again,
the King of Words, Chase found himself tripping over the most sincere moments
with a heart felt reply, but lacking words or structure.
"How...flattering."
It was apparent that Dionysius had taken it the wrong way, or at least to
Chase. "It's because I'm sincere. I would be honored to hear you sing."
Dionysius just looked at him in slight admiration. "You are such a
handsome Human. Your yellow hair is pleasing, if foreign to me."
"Well thank you. I'll take that as a compliment, as I take them where I
can get them."
"As it was intended."
Placing a hand out before the Orion, Chase grinned. "It's nice to know."
Examing the hand extended toward him, Dionysius touched it with his own
green hand, not familiar with the custom as well as the other Humans or
Starfleet personnel were.
Allowing his hand to slide into Dionysius', Chase gave it a light squeeze.
"Just wanted to say that it's really nice to talk with someone."
"As nice as it is to touch someone?"
Staring back at Dionysius, Chase watched as the dark green eyes that
started back at him deepened, though he could have remained there without
complaint, if it hadn't been for this dull ache that'd materialized into his
chest. Giving a weak smile, Chase still seemed to uphold his grasp.
Tilting his head a little, Dionysius returned to studying the full Human
closely. "Yellow hair... I have never seen before... and blue eyes. I have
seen dark hair like mine... green eyes like mine. I have seen humans with
brown hair and eyes." Chase listened intently to Dionysius' voice, feeling a
tad bit embaressed. "You are very different. What is your age?"
"I'm not all that different," his mind went back to his twin, Jacen. "I'm
twenty-six." Dionysius just nodded back. Softening his tone, Chase gave him
a stronger smile. "You're very unique, Dionysius," his voice flowed without
stumbling. Maybe for the first time, but only since he'd held back a great
portion of what else had been on his mind.
"I try." And as if in after thought, he added, "And I have the most
saught after body on Trading Colony IV."
With a dopey look on his face, something along the lines of a word escaped
from Chase's lips. "Oh?"
"I know you may find it confusing, as I was a slave, but I am a virgin. I
did not win the contest until last year, and that is when they sold me. I
never made it to my owner, so I retain my virginal quality, which doubled my
price."
He had to hand it to the Orion, he was confused. But not for the obvious
reasons, or even those that were by chance. "But you're not a slave anymore.
That is something only you can decide," Chase scowled at himself for his lack
of foresight, or was it his stupidity.
Dionysius blushed a hunter green. "I am but sixteen revolutions of age."
Within a flash, Chase's jaw nearly popped itself out onto the deck. He'd
guessed Dionysius was young, but, oh boy. How literal could you get to that
statement? "You're a bright guy to be a medic already."

TBC

[Return to Archives | Return to Listing ]

"The Secret Life of Dante Surak pt 2"
PL Surak

The path to the city was devoid of people at this time of night. For
that, Surak was quite pleased. With his ear pieces and his non-uniform
clothing on, he was somewhat vunerable to being stopped by Security.
Fortunately Dante made it to the city ans was able to drowned himseld in the
sea of people.
He walked past Galex's Resort and Tavern. Rounding a corner, he past
Madame Fortuna's House of "Divination" or "Money Removal" as he thought of
it.
He could see the Any Ports Tavern down the way. Stopping in front of a red
neon sign that read "Merevel's House of Gambling", he looked in through the
glass window. Surak saw numerous people gambling, drinking and flirting.
~~This is what I've been looking for...Games, Girls, and Drinks~~ he thought
entering swiftly.
Walking up to the currency exchange teller he fished a single Gold
Pressed Latinum slip from his pocket.
"I'd like as many circular, plastic tender discs as this slip of GPL
will buy," the Vulcan said giving the blonde teller a wink.
"There ya go....enjoy buddy," the teller said wondering what this cheap
guy's eye problem was all about.
Surak took his one chip and walked to the Black Jack table. Sitting
down, he ordered a beverage from a nearby waitress, "I'll have a cola with
spiced rum," he said and turnrd back to the dealer.
Placing his chip on the table, he received his cards. He got a "10" and a
"5", statistically one of the worst hands possible.
"Hit me," he said his eyebrows raised in concentration.
The confident dealer gave Surak another card.
"Yes!!" the Vulcan yelled. "21. View it and cry severly," he said moving
the chip he just gained to his "pile".
Dante continued playing black jack for nearly an hour, winning every
hand. By the time he was done, he had quite a stack sitting before him and
several empty glasses to his right.

<TBC>

[Return to Archives | Return to Listing ]

"The Secret Life of Dante Surak pt3"

PL Surak

Surak gathered his chips and placed them in a tray the waitress had
brought him. Rising from his seat at the Black Jack table, he looked for
another gaming table.
He walked past the "slot' machines on his way to the "craps" table. A
large hag sat on a stool, dropping latinum into the machine. Surak pulled the
lever as he walked past. The machine stopped on 3 cherries, leting loose a
flood of latinum slips.
Arriving at the "craps" table he placed his tray of chips on the ledge.
The dealer, a balding man in a funky red vest, pushed the dice his way. As
Surak bent over to pick up the dice, a stunning blonde figure in a gold
sequin dress moved in next to him and put her hand on his back.
Rising, he turned and flashed his illpracticed, sheepish SMILE™.
"Well...Hello Gorgeous.." he said giving her the "once over".
"Hello yourself," she relpied likewise looking him up and down. "My name
is Lida DeVitatale..." she said sticking out her hand.
"Pleased to meet you Lida," he said takin her hand and kissing it. "My
name is Joe, Joe...Smith," he said flashing another SMILE™.
"Likewise Joe-Joe...." she said with a somewhat evil looking grin.
"No. It's just plain Joe," he replied letting her hand go, turning back
to the impatient craps dealer.
"Well from the size of your tray, and your..."earnings", I'd say there's
nothing plain about you," she said sipping her champagne.
Surak blushed slightly at that, and moved the dice so that she cold blow
on them.
"Good luck Joe,"
"I'm guided by a force much greater than luck," he said throwing the
dice.
The dice landed on a "3" and a "4". Craps. The assembled crowd clapped as
the dealer pushed the dice and his newly earned chps over to Surak's corner.
Surak placed the chips neatly in his tray and raised the dice to Lida's
waiting lips.
He threw the dice again and rolled yet another "3" and another "4". The
crowd roared.
"Yeah baby!! You are sex!!" she said leaning in close.
Surak tunred and whispered in his ears, "You want to go find out how
"sex" I am?" he trying not to laugh at her gramatical error.
Lida flashed a LOOK™ that answered all of his questions.
The Vulcan walked out of the casino, a tray of chips under one arm, and a
gorgeous blonde on the other. ~~Who could ask for anything more?~~

<TBC>

[Return to Archives | Return to Listing ]

"The Secret Life of Dante Surak pt 4"
PL Surak

Dante awoke to nearly silent low frequency rummble. Before walking
towards the city, he had thumbed his comm. badge to Silent Mode. Groggily
coming awake, he attempted to pull his arm out from underneath Lida's
sleeping body.
With a lot of effort he managed to free his arm. Trying to remain
quiet, he tiptoed, naked, over to the mound of clothes in the center of the
room. ~~What a night!~~
Finding his pants he removed the vibrating comm. badge from his pocket.
Tapping the badge, the turned to face a clock and a slight fear began to
creep over him.
"Uh.... Captain Surak here go ahead..." he said in a whisper as he
scrambled to get dressed.
"Captain...this is Lt O'Reilly. Your duty shift began a half hour
ago....and well we were starting to get worried..." the officer relpied.
"I'm on my way. I aplogize for my unannounced tardiness...I got caught up
in... my morning meditations. I'll be in Ops shortly. Surak out," he said
running out of the building, belting his pants.
He sprinted up the path to "his" shrubbery. He quickly threw on his
uniform top and jumped out of his "blue jeans". Opening the duffle back he
jumped into his uniform pants with the grace fo a gazelle. After kicking of
his shoes he jumped to the ground to change his shoes. At the same time, he
"popped" of his ear pieces and put them in there case.
With all of his "gear" stuffed into the duffle, his uniform in place, and
his comm. badge pinned on Surak walked towards the Emergency Exit he had used
the previous night. Dante quickly deatviated the Security systems and opened
the door cautiously. His luck was with him still and no one noticed when he
just apeared in the cooridor.
After stopping to drop of his gear at his quarters, he entered Main Ops
and sat a this command chair, where a gagle of Yeomans stood waiting with
PADD's for him to review.
"Good morning sir," Lt O'reilly said from his poisition at the Engineering
station.
"Good morning Lieutenant. Thank-you for keeping things together while I
was...detained," Surak replied settling in for a dull day of paper work.
~~~But Oh! Those Summer Nights~~

<The End For Now :) >

Captain Dante Aristotle Surak,
Executive Officer,
Outposct Cousteau,
Vantar IV, Beta Quadrant

[Return to Archives | Return to Listing ]

"Bad Impressions"
Stardate 9807.22

Kya was in a bad mood. Her weekend had been the worst in a long while and
it didn't seem to be getting any better. She had that fight with that
Antican-Selay officer that no one truly believed. The night doctor had
threatened completely pull her off roster if she didn't rest, and to make
things worse the Major had nearly drowned when he opened his office door the
next morning. She growled softly. Her pride had been hurt more than her
body, and
she was still grouchy.

Kya walked along the corridor towards the Security Room where a crowd of
new ensigns awaited a briefing. As she approached the office she could hear
them talking among themselves. She didn't like what she heard.

"Hey, didya hear about the 'accident' this weekend?"
She heard one of them snort in laughter. "If you ask me, that was no
accident. That little furball probably did it on purpose so she could get
the job."
The other chuckled. "A kitty for a boss? I bet she's only four foot tall.
Oooo ... so scary. What kind of security team is this?"

"....The best in the galaxy let me assure you." Surprised, the two ensigns
turned around in fear and stared up at Kya. (boy do I love being 6'4 hehe)
Her face was devoid of any emotion as she looked down at them. She could
sense fear and dread from them. For a fleeting second, she wondered if
Betaziods recieved emotion like she did, if they were as sensitive to those
around her.

Kya scanned the room, studing the new officers. One officer in particular
caught her attention. He sat on one of the breifing tables, and he didn't
seem to be very interested in what was going on. Kya let her mind go out to
him curiously. So this was Lt. Chase. He was rumored to be a candidate for
the Starfleet Rangers. Chase looked up and met her gaze. At the same
instant she was blocked from his mind. Surprised, she turned her eyes
and walked to the front.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to Outpost Cousteau." For the first time
she smiled. One of the Ensign's eyes widened and Kya almost laughed. She
had forgotten how much her smiles were like snarls.

An hour later Kya had finished her first debriefing with the new officers.
She walked around the room, greeting each in turn. As she walked to Lt.
Chase, she couldn't help but feel animosity from him. She remembered a few
comments that she had made after reading his bio. Had he heard these. She
held her paw out to him. "Pleased to meet you Lt."

He nodded and shook her paw, but Kya couldn't help think that something was
wrong. "Thank you sir."

Kya nodded and turned to ther rest of the crew. It was time to take them
out to the obstacle course and see what they had in them. "Let's go people.
Time to see what you have in you."

--Ltjg Kitren Kurrasha Kya
ACSEC OPC
Ltjg Kitren Kya

[Return to Archives | Return to Listing ]

"Surprises"
Stardate 9808.04

Kya stalked along the promenade grumpily, keeping an eye out for mischeif
makers. The Major had the day off and was out on his boat somewhere on
Vantar. As she walked, she thought about recent events that had popped up.
Lt Chase Logan, the new security officer, was getting a little aggrevating.
She had tried once or twice to be freindly, but all she had gotten was the
cold shoulder. She still didn't understand why, and she wasn't about to
second guess.

Kya frowned as she thought about this. Most officers found her to be
freindly and good to be around, although she truly hadn't made so good an
impression at the officer's breifing. She looked down at the lower promenant
and caught sight of Chase mopping the floor. Surprised, she stared. That
was a job for a new Ensign, not an officer who knew what he was doing. She
frowned again, knowing that he was probably blaming that on her as well. Why
did it always turn out that way?

She sighed and turned back to the shops. She knew the Major didn't like to
get close to his officers, although he had started talking to her more often
since her promotion. She felt differently about it though. She still
remembered her captain days on Farydda, and she knew that being close to her
officers often helped in a hard situation. Maybe if I should try being nice
to him one more time .....

Kya started towards the steps to the lower half of the promenant when a
scream erupted from behind her. Surprised, she turned in time to see someone
drop from the balconey. She stared in surprise and leaped off the balconey,
landing on all fours on the floor below and causing a few screams herself.
In an instant she was beside the human civilian. The eyes opened one last
time and Kya gasped as she stared into two bright blue cat eyes.

Kitren ........

The voice rang in her mind as she whipped out her tricorder. He eyes
widened and she tapped her commbadge.

"Lt Kya to Dr. Sheriden, please come to the lower Promenant."

She paused for a second and then slammed her paw into the commbadge again.
"Lt Kya to Lt Logan."

The Lt's voice came over the comm .... "Logan here."

"Lt, report to the lower Promenant, sector C immediately." Somehow or
another, she would make him see she wasn't as bad as he thought, even if she
had to force him to work with her.

Wanna hear more? Too bad ... you'll have to wait.

TBC ......
Ltjg Kitren Kya

[Return to Archives | Return to Listing ]

A DAY OFF
By Zantus A'Ethers
SD: 9808.05

Zantus looked at the neon sign in the tavern window and made a decision.
Since, according to his observations, business tended to be higher in the
evening, he elected to leave the tavern closed for the day and decided to
wander the areas of the Outpost.
He went up into his loft and changed out of his bartender outfit and his
black shirt and dark blue pants. He felt like spending some of his tips, so
he clipped on his 'latinum belt.' His money was carefully hidden in the
buckle of the belt. He checked his face in the mirror, and grimaced. He
went to the shower.
Fifteen minutes later, a refreshed Zantus stepped outside the entryway to
the Any Port Tavern, then paused. He hooked his cane (during his brief visit
to Zeta Leo IV, he'd met Jay Winger, who'd given him a holoprogram on the
selfdefense style called the Art of the Cane) on his forearm and fiddled with
a small remote control.
"Well–hic–well," said a voice behind him. "Some–hic–somebody decided to
take our advice."
Zantus turned and found himself staring at the three thugs who'd come into
the Tavern about two weeks earlier. The one in the middle, the one who had
spoken, had long dark hair—Tseng, Zantus believed was his name—wobbled a bit.
So did the other two. ~~Sweet savior, they're blitzed.~~
"Actually," Zantus said aloud, "I'm taking the day off. Business picks up
later in the day anyway."
"Ri-i-ight," said the baldheaded man to Tseng's left. ~~He must be from a
lowlight world,~~ Zantus thought. Indeed, the man—Rude, Zantus recalled—had
a dark light-filter over his eyes. "You'd–hic–better not leave your store,
man."
"Yeah," said the third one, to Tseng's right. This was the one called
Reno. He had shorter hair than Tseng, also a few shades lighter. Reno
continued, "You might not have a store to come back to."
Zantus said nothing, turned and depressed a control on his remote. A large
door slid to close the entrance to the tavern, and a series of panels covered
the windows. Finally, a lowlevel forcefield went up over the door and
panels. Zantus turned back, then pocketed his remote. "Apipousan,
gentlemen—and I use the term lightly. Give my regards to Galex."
He started off, but Reno stopped him. He had shouldered some kind of thick
rod. "Not so fa–hic–fast, boyo. We don't tolerate dis–hic–disrespect." He
swung the rod at Zantus' stomach.
Tseng and Rude weren't quite sure what happened. Zantus blocked the rod's
swing with his cane and sidled back, in a defensive posture. Reno moved in
again, grabbing at Zantus' collar. The cane moved, and Reno groaned and
dropped the rod, covering his groin in pain.
Tseng and Rude shared a glance, then Rude moved in, fists flying. He swung
at the Xenar, who dodged back. The cane came up behind Rude's knee, then
hooked him there. The thug fell to the ground, and then collapsed as Zantus
delivered a punch to his head. Tseng moved in last, grabbing Zantus' lapels.
Tseng yelped in pain as the Xenar swung the cane over his arms and applied
pressure. "You bother me," Zantus said. He released the thug's arms, then
kicked him in the chest, knocking him down. "You boys are lucky. I'm in a
good mood. I won't press charges, and I suggest you don't either; it was
selfdefense. As I was saying, apipousan."
He sauntered off, feeling good about himself. That holosuite program with
the monster really boosted his confidence. He left the three thugs and
enjoyed the rest of his day off.

END

[Return to Archives | Return to Listing ]

=/\= Personal Log =/\=
Major C.M. Elias
SD 9808.09

Casey stood by the rail of the promenade deck, looking at all of the coming
and going. The hustle and bustle of "normal" civilian activity was something
that Casey had not had much experience with. Being in the corps for almost 30
years, he had spent most of his adult life either taking, defending, or
evacuating some nameless rock that some egg-headed Admiral back on Earth had
decided was worth the cost of the lives of some of the finest men andwomen
that Casey had ever known.

Now... here he was. Most of his days were spent as a "Mall Cop".
Occasionally "The One" would do something stupid and Kit would climb down his
throat. Or he would get a chance to hop a ride the Desi and check out
something else in the sector. All in all, a great life. So much so that Casey
had thought of actually transferring his commission over to the Fleet from
the Marines. His current rank of Major was an O4 paygrade. That would be the
equivalentof a Lieutenant Commander in the fleet. He would put the request in
to the Captain and see where it went.
Yeah... his days of being a front line grunt, leading a platoon of jar heads
into action were, hopefully, behind him. Just then his communicator chirped.
"Major Elias, please report to the Desi, ASAP! You are to join Lt. Commander
Scott and the rest of the team there and he will give you a full briefing."
Casey turned from the railing that he had been leaning on and headed out to
the landing pad.
"Ensign, I'm on my way. Just hit the highlights of the brief for me, unless
it is classified."
"Sir, we have lost contact with the crew of relay station B4 and the station
has gone off the air."
"Very well Ensign, my ETA to the Desi is under 2 minutes. Elias out."

Major C. M. Elias,
SFMC

[Return to Archives | Return to Listing ]

Foreword: Okay, here's how I'll explain the Thugs' future Zantus-bugging.
And by the way, yes, I did borrow the names and descriptions of the Thugs
(Tseng, Rude, and Reno) from the game Final Fantasy VII, after the Shinra
goons called the Turks. And now, on with the Zantus Log:

"REPEAT BUSINESS"
By Zantus A'Ethers
SD: 9808.10

Zantus came down from his loft and was surprised to see the three Thugs in
the Tavern doorway. He moved an errant strand of his blonde hair out of his
face, then said, "Sorry, but we don't serve employees from rival
establishments at the Any Port Tavern."
Tseng, the head Thug, grunted, "Fine. But get us a stiff drink. I need
one bad."
Zantus went to the bar and brought out his sonic stunner. "I'm serious,
boys, leave. I won't serve you."
"'Cuz we worked for Galex?" Reno asked. "That's fine, because Galex fired
us."
Zantus tried to mask his smile. "Did he now?"
"Yeah," the baldheaded Rude grunted. He adjusted his light-filters and sat
down in one of the barstools.
Zantus couldn't hide his grin any more. "Well then, I hope to do repeat
business with you fellows." He stuck his stunner in his belt and poured
Tseng and Rude a synthale. Reno ordered a Rigellian Firebreather. "Enjoy,
boys."
As he proceeded to clean some glasses behind the bar, he casually asked,
"So, why'd Galex fire you?"
"Because we didn't do our job," Reno said.
"Kicking me out?"
"Running you out of business," Tseng corrected. "And don't you be getting
any ideas about turning us in. For one thing, we wouldn't appreciate it"—he
opened his jacket to show a pistol—"and for another, we've been warned to
keep our mouths shut about our past jobs."
"Company policy," Rude said.
"We don't rat on our employers," Reno said, "and they don't rat on us."
Zantus digested that, then commented, "So, basically, you're telling me to
forget connecting you to Galex?"
"Exactly," the Thugs said.
"Fine," Zantus said. "I'm willing to live and let live. You guys were
just doing your job. I can understand that. Just don't be so inept next
time." He looked back at them. "No offense."
Rude looked ready to do so, but Tseng put a hand on his colleague's
shoulder and said, "None taken."
Zantus made small talk with the Thugs while they finished their drinks,
then he sold them a bottle of Bajoran Ale (Nondiluted) and sent them on their
way. He watched them for a moment, then got his padd out.
Mr. Bylt:
I don't think implicating Galex in the attempts to run us out of business
is going to be a good idea. The Thugs who used to work for them (Galex fired
them, apparently) make a point of not 'ratting' on former bosses, and I'm
sure Galex will categorically deny any connections to them.
Anyway, Galex's attempts haven't been successful, so I wouldn't worry.

Sincerely,
Zantus A'Ethers

END

[Return to Archives | Return to Listing ]

=/\= Personal Log =/\=
Major C.M. Elias
SD 9808.09

Casey stood by the rail of the promenade deck, looking at all of the coming
and going. The hustle and bustle of "normal" civilian activity was something
that Casey had not had much experience with. Being in the corps for almost 30
years, he had spent most of his adult life either taking, defending, or
evacuating some nameless rock that some egg-headed Admiral back on Earth had
decided was worth the cost of the lives of some of the finest men and
women that Casey had ever known.

Now... here he was. Most of his days were spent as a "Mall Cop".
Occasionally "The One" would do something stupid and Kit would climb down his
throat. Or he would get a chance to hop a ride the Desi and check out
something else in the sector. All in all, a great life. So much so that Casey
had thought of actually transferring his commission over to the Fleet from
the Marines. His current rank of Major was an O4 paygrade. That would be the
equivalent
of a Lieutenant Commander in the fleet. He would put the request in to the
Captain and see where it went.
Yeah... his days of being a front line grunt, leading a platoon of jar heads
into action were, hopefully, behind him. Just then his communicator chirped.
"Major Elias, please report to the Desi, ASAP! You are to join Lt. Commander
Scott and the rest of the team there and he will give you a full briefing."
Casey turned from the railing that he had been leaning on and headed out to
the landing pad.
"Ensign, I'm on my way. Just hit the highlights of the brief for me, unless
it is classified."
"Sir, we have lost contact with the crew of relay station B4 and the station
has gone off the air."
"Very well Ensign, my ETA to the Desi is under 2 minutes. Elias out."

Major C. M. Elias,
SFMC

[Return to Archives | Return to Listing ]

=/\= PERSONAL LOG =/\=
Major C. M. Elias
SD 0908.15

Casey steps out onto the deck of the Calypso with a small container of
frozen margaritas in one hand and a cigar in the other. He sets the drinks
down and gazes out on the harbor, a bustle of activity going on in the ever
expanding marina. He then sits on the deck chair, pours himself a frosty
drink, lights up is contraband cigar and leans back in his chair, flipping
his sunglasses onto the table.

"Computer open a personal log, Major Casey Elias, current date"

"I miss Nan already... she has been gone not quite a week and the just place
seems a bit less exciting, a bit less provocative, a bit less... Nan. She
will be missed." He stops for a second and raises his glass to Nan's memory,
then takes a swallow.
"On the personal side, I think that Doctor Sheridan has worked through her
misunderstood feeling for me and we are now, officially, just friends. I
think she has had some bad relationships as of late and was just looking for
a friendly shoulder to lean on. I think I have now been successfully
relegated to the "Father figure" and hopefully she will feel comfortable
enough to come to me with a problem in the future and, as a friend, I'll be
there for
her."

A grin slowly creeps across his face as he continues on with his log.

"Lis and I seem to be getting drawn back together and I am looking forward
to possibly getting together on a more permanent basis. My offer for her to
move in with me still stands...
One other item of note, I was assigned as the acting first officer for
Outpost Cousteau, effective 9808.09. It was Nan's last official act as
Commanding Officer."

Casey hears a disturbance on the dock as two workers fight over whose turn it
was to work late that night. He stands and finishes off his drink. Grabbing
his sunglasses he vaults down to the dock.

"Computer, end log. Now, what do you two think you are doing?"

Major C. M. Elias,
SFMC

[Return to Archives | Return to Listing ]

Departing Is Such Sweet Sorrow
personal log entry, Cptn. Sioux Nanaimo

One can never consent to creep when one feels an impulse to soar.
Helen Keller

SD9808.10

CAPTAIN SIOUX NANAIMO FINISHED PACKING the last of her personal belongings
from her office, glancing about to make sure that she had not forgotten
anything.
The soft glow of the dual Vantarian sunset filled the room with a soft
golden light, which make the room look soft and inviting despite the fact it
was now empty. The wood panelling gleamed softly under the suns' caress, and
light reflected off the glass top of Nan's desk, shimmering like wave
reflections on the walls. It was Surak's office now; he would probably have
the forrest-green walls repainted or the mocha-brown carpet replaced.
When she had first arrived at the Outpost, she had been disappointed --
not because of the facilities, but because she had been wanting a ship
assignment. Alas, after the Borg battle at sector 001, and the war with the
Dominion, ships were scarce, and beggars couldn't be choosers.
In the many months she had been here, she had come to love the Outpost.
The buildings were designed to reflect both the planet and system itself, as
well as Federation design and influences. It looked very organic in design,
almost as if it had grown out of the rock, making it blend more easily into
the surrounding landscape. It was a beautiful place, and she would miss it.
The Outpost was a busy, bustling place; neat, efficient. Their spacedock
handled at least two Federaton ships a week; many more smaller local ships
visited either the spacedock or came planetside to buy, trade, barter, sell,
or just enjoy the local facilities -- the resorts that had sprung up around
the Outpost, or elsewhere on the planet.
The Outpost had grown rapidly, but, due to carefully timed requests for
personnel, had never quite gotten out of control -- yet. There were a few
unsavory characters, like the One, to be concerned about, she knew, but she
was leaving the Outpost in capable hands.
She glanced through her brass-detailed doors, not unlike Sisko's doors
on DS9, into Ops. Spotting Silver still at Ops, she tapped her commbadge.
"Nan to Silver; please transport my last boxes to my shuttle."
"Aye, sir." There was a near-immediate shimmer, and the last three
boxes disappeared in a cascade of blue-white light.
Nan glanced about one last time, remembering all the times here. She
was to meet Elias and Surak for a last drink before departing.
"Not farewell, but fare thee well, Cousteau," she whispered, heading
out the doors and towards Gunkey's, where the two men awaited her for last
drinks on the Vantarian beach before her departure.

~ § ~

Captain Sioux D. Nanaimo
COMMANDING OFFICER
OUTPOST COUSTEAU

[Return to Archives | Return to Listing ]

Personal Log: Shane W. Roberts
Outpost Cousteau
SD: 9808.16

::puts guitar in corner of the room:: Computer, begin personal log entery.
Shane Roberts, stardate 9808.16

::sits down in front of screen smiling:: ::glances back at quarters:: I
want to remember this, I truly do. This is one of those historic moments,
you know. A hologramic moment if you will. ::smile deepens:: This, is the
biggest quarters I have ever stayed in since I entered starfleet. Oh.... let
me savor this. Not even guest quarters were like this. And my reg.
quarters..... forget it, not even close. ::strecthes arms, laughing:: I
can actually move around. I can streacth my arms wide, and my hands don't
even touch the wall! ::puts arms down:: I am truely amazed. Shocked.
Stunned. ::pauses:: Anyway. ::turns back around and faces screen:: I've
just gotten situated, sorta. After alot of re-assingments you learn how to
pack light. First day as new kid on the block was kinda fun, and exciting.
I've heard stories of table dancing, and wild parties, and people walking
around nude in sickbay . . . ::chuckles:: I don't know if I should encrypt
this log or not. This is a fun outfit being run here. I still haven't seen
all of the outpost yet, but-- what I have seen is the most beautiful, the
most. . . I'm talking drop dead gorgeuous, woman, that I have ever seen, or
had the pleasure of working with. Her name Alicia Winters, and I intend on
asking her out... soon. But first, their are two things on
my list that I must do. Number One: I have to finish the tour of the
outpost. And two: I must check out Vantar IV herself. ::smiles::

::swivles in chair:: Computer, end log.

[Return to Archives | Return to Listing ]

First Views of Vantar
personal log, FstLt Elana

time: present

FstLt. Elana de Marco watched as the last of her belongings was tranferred
from the shuttle onto the hovercart. She really had not picked up a lot of
items at Nigala; her posessions were small. In between leaving Nigala and
arriving at Cousteau, she had had to report to Starbase 51 for an extensive,
6-week Ranger training program. She had never felt so fit in her life; she
felt like a loaded weapon ready to strike.
And to think I'm going to be in Engineering! She chuckled to herself as she
followed the porter out of the shuttle hangar and into the bright Vantarian
sunshine. A westerly breeze blew over the walkway, and she lifted her face to
the twin suns, taking a deep breath. Even here, nearly a mile from the cliffs
that marked the ocean from the land, she could smell the soft tang of the sea
air tangled in with the scents of the land.
She looked ahead, towards the Outpost that rose majestically from the
landscape, surrounded by smaller buildings. The planet had looked soooo
inviting from space -- she hadn't realized how homesick she was for her own
planet, currently occupied by Dominion forces, until she had seen the
glinting, inviting oceans that circled the planet.
I think I'm gonna like it here......

t b c

FstLt. Elana de Marco
Chief of Engineering
Outpost Cousteau

[Return to Archives | Return to Listing ]

Personal Log: Shane W. Roberts
Outpost Cousteau
SD: 9808.23

::still sitting in chair, yawning, and chuckling:: Computer, begin personal
log entery. Shane Roberts, stardate 9808.23

::laughs:: I was actually nervous. ::pauses:: What surprises me, is that
I was more nervous to confront that admiral, well, rear admiral actually,
then I was on some of my previous missions. ::clarifies:: I'm refering to
those involving high stakes of course. ::chuckles, remembering:: My back
was turned, but I wish I could have seen the startled expression on the
admiral's face when I accidently kicked the Jodie Foster into high gear.
::shakes head, laughing:: I should have been a photogropher. ::clears
throat:: Well, the rumors are true. ::leans forward, smiling:: Is the
Admiral Eccentric? --yes. Potentially doublely so with me? -- yes. ::leans
back:: She's the type that first impressions, go along way with. ::pauses::
I had alittle chat today, with my beautiful co-worker Ally. It turns out
that she's in the position where she's in love with another man, her
ex-husband. ::takes a deep breath and exhales:: Ohh, this always happens.
First it was Amanda, who happened to be married to old best friend Max, for
barely a year might I add. Then, there was the remarkable Alexis from the
Halifax, who was engaged to my superior. ::lets out a slow breath:: And
somehow, I almost got into another situation like I did with..... ::pauses,
then shrugs:: Fates hand? Who knows. After Kit
told me about Ally and the major, I wasn't sure how to take it, you know?
Because Ally never really said anything to me about it. But.... after
talking to her today. ::smiles, then nods:: Kit was right. She's
hopelessly, foolishly, in llloooovvve. ::yawns:: Maybe the reality of her
situation will hit her one day. But it wont be because of me. ::yawns
again:: Nope, nope, nope, nope, nope. ::heads for the bed:: I'm through
doing honesties
handy work. : lays down on the bed, eyes heavy:: And besides .... I'm too
tired ...... :::closes eyes, drifiting away:: too...... too sleepy..... to
even...... to even.....

::after fifteen seconds, the computer automatically closes the log::

[Return to Archives | Return to Listing ]

NEIGHBORS?
JL, Major Elias and FstLt Elana

FstLt. Elana de Marco could have taken the turbolift to one of the lower
levels, and walked out to the docks from that level, but she preferred the
winding path which made its way down the side of the cliffs below the
Outpost, to the lagoon. She could see a few boats tied up at the docks; most
of the
business boats were out to sea, ferrying paying customers to prime snorkling
sites.
Elle checked the slip number, and saw the yacht she was looking for, the
Calypso, bobbing gently, sparking under the early morning sun.
"Major Elias?" she called. Surak had directed her to his second-in-command
for any and all questions she needed answered about the Outpost. "Major?"
Major Casey Elias could hear somebody calling his name, and he emerged from
the cabin, where he had been working on changing the fuel filters.
"Lieutenant de Marco... a pleasure to see you again." He smiled up at her on
the dock, while he wiped his hands clean on a towel.
Elana tucked a persistant stray curl behind one ear and returned the smile.
"Captain Surak directed me to you. I wanted to ask you a few questions about
quarters."
He looked concerned. "Are they unsatisfactory, Ms de Marco?"
She looked surprised. "What? Oh, no sir! They're beautiful, and I have a
wonderful view of the water... it's just..." She glanced longingly at the
water. Not even, Casey noted, at any particular boat. The water.
"Sir......."
"Yes, Lieutenant?"
Elana brought her gaze back to his. "Sir... you'll ahh.... probably think
me strange.... permission to speak freely, sir?"
Elias stood there in a tank top and shorts, barefoot on the warm deckplates
of the Calypso, and chuckled. "Of course."
She dropped into a cross-legged position on the dock, looking completely at
ease, even though her uniform seemed a little incongruous in the
surroundings. "Well you see, sir, one of the main reasons I accepted this
position was that... this--" she motioned around at the lagoon. "All these
oceans... so much
water..." She cocked her head and looked at him. "I'm sure you've seen my
bio file, but I'm not sure you know much about Marriners. Few people I run
into, do. But I come from a waterworld much like this one. And... it's a
peaceful world." She quieted for a moment, and Casey remained silent,
realizing whatever
she had to say was difficult. "Recently, it was invaded by the Dominion. I
can't even fathom what they feel they can gain there!" She ducked her head
slightly, hiding the tears that threatened to well up in her eyes. "Anyway...
I miss home a great deal. And when somebody told me that you were living down
here,
I.... I wondered if it merely was a...."
"Perk of command?" he supplied, grinning.
She lifted her head. "Aye, sir... or if anybody could choose to do so."
She looked at him hopefully.
He laughed heartily. "No, no it's not a 'perk'. I chose to live down
here." He decided to hold off giving his reasons until a later time.
"So, could I do that? Get my own boat and live down here?"
"If that's what you want."
"Thank you!"
She beamed, and Elias was suddenly pleased with the realization he might
have a neighbor. And a damn attractive one at that, he found himself
thinking...

FstLt. Elana de Marco
Chief of Engineering
Outpost Cousteau

[Return to Archives | Return to Listing ]

Captain Surak gently ushered the ancient admiral into her Runabout.
"Thank- you for coming Admiral D'Ville," he said easing her into her chair.
"The pleasure was all mine," said the wizend admiral with a wry smile
creeping across her face.
Several of the Rear Admiral's "aides de camp" or attendants tried to
hide looks of shock as they overheard the admiral and the captain exchange
genuine pleasantries. ~~~She's never talked nicely to anyone!!~~ one thought
as he brought the Admiral her Iced Tea.
"Dismissed Yeoman," the admiral said, her caustic tone returning and then
disappearing. "I hope I'll be able to return soon...." she said.
"That would be most pleasant ma'am" the Vulcan said, trying to return her
smile.
After a long awkward pause, the Admiral picked up her PADD, "I'll be sure
to send you a copy of my inspection evaluation. Dismissed Captain..."
Surak spun on his heals and headed out of the USS Ob. The Vulcan jogged to
the Landing Port Control Center. Entering the control booth, he nodded to Lt.
Silver. "Clear them for launch vector..."
"Aye sir," he said opening the comm. frequencies. "OPC Flight Control to
USS Ob. You are clear to launch..."
"OPC Flight Control this is USS OB....message Acknowledged. We have a
final personal message for Captain Surak from the Admiral.... the Admiral
told me to tell Captain Surak that quote "She'll never forget the night at
Galex's"....USS Ob out..."
Morgan turned to the Captain. "What's that all about?"
Raising an eybrow, "Let's just say that...well...sometimes we are
obligated to go above and beyond the call of duty....."
Captain Dante Aristotle Surak,
Commanding Officer,
Outposct Cousteau,
Vantar IV, Beta Quadrant

[Return to Archives | Return to Listing ]

"DUCK THE GUN"
By Zantus A'Ethers (note to roster guy: it has an 's' on the end)
SD: 9808.26

Zantus was in his usual place behind the bar, meticulously keeping the
glasses and bottles and such clean. Sprawled about the room were the
formerly-hired-by-Galex Thugs: Tseng, Reno, and Rude.
Rude was hunched over a glass of Alvanian brandy at the bar, his
light-filters askew. Reno's normally unruly red hair was even more out of
place as he polished off a Black Hole by the holosuites. (~~I know he used
to work for Ferengi, but how can he stand their drinks?!~~ Zantus wondered.)
Tseng was lying down in a booth, a bitters half-finished on the table next to
him.
"Have the Starfleet types been a bit more jumpy lately?" Zantus asked as he
looked out the window at the officers and such passing by.
"Yeah, I s'pose," Reno commented. "I heard there was some kinda admiral or
some high muckety-muck visiting recently."
"'Muckety-muck,'" Zantus repeated. "And that is a technical term?"
"A big shot," Rude translated. "Some kinda big inspection tour."
"Ah," Zantus said. "They were trying to stay on the 'big shot's' good
side. Looks like they were trying to duck the gun."
Tseng sat up at his booth. "I didn't know you knew Terran expressions."
Zantus looked at him. "I wasn't using a Terran expression. On my
homeworld, 'duck the gun' means to stay on the Slavemasters' good side
(provided they have one, of course) so they don't shoot you. Other times, it
means manuevering yourself in such a way that you avoid their wrath, which is
usually in the form of a nasty pulse rifle, hence—"
"–ducking the gun, yeah, we get it," Reno said. "It's used on Earth in the
same context."
Zantus quirked his eyebrows. "Hmm." He whistled as he cleaned Rude's
now-empty glass. "You guys ever have to duck the gun with Galex?"
"Sometimes," Rude said.
Tseng added, "Of course, we don't always succeed."
"Yeah," Reno said. "Would we be in here if we had ducked Galex's gun?"
"Good point," Zantus said.
Time winded its way through the day. Lowrankers stopped by the Tavern to
have a drink or two, and some civilians dropped by as well. Zantus was
especially proud of the 'civs', since every one civ who visited the Tavern
was one civ who wasn't visiting Galex's Resort.
Finally, Zantus looked at the chrono on the wall. "Last call! Closing
time!"
"Eh?" Tseng said. He looked at his own chrono. "Ye gods. How long have
we been here?"
"Ah...most of the day," Zantus replied.
"Geeze! Rude, Reno, get up! We're late!" Tseng said. He passed his empty
glass to Zantus as he ran by. "C'mon! We'll miss the first hand!"
"What's the story, Tseng?" Zantus asked.
"About once or twice a week, us and some buddies get together to play
cards. And we're late!" He dashed toward the entrance. "Just put the
drinks on our tab; we'll pay tomorrow."
"Yeah," Rude said, "after we win tonight."
"Shut up!" Tseng snapped. "C'mon!"
The Thugs ran out and sprinted down the Promenade. Zantus looked out the
door, then back at a redshirt who was at the bar. He shrugged. "High
rollers."

END

[Return to Archives | Return to Listing ]

Junior Lt. Shane W. Roberts:
Stardate: 9808.28
"Awakening"

Shane Roberts sleep soundlessly in his bed. A smile stretched his face, as
a pleasant dream, became even more so. Suddenly, his eyelids tightened like
a rock, his right hand gripped the top of the sheets, and a scream itched
it's way up threw his throat, in fright.......

Shane looked around him, and the walls that encompasesd the room were slowly
melting away as if something corrosive had been splattered all over it. The
greyish walls disappeared quickly, in a sizzle and bubbling foam, exposing
Shane to the harsh elements of cold space. Shane covered his face, and
eyes, as he was pulled helplessly out of the melted, sodden room, and into
empty space. Shane yelled, and yelled, "I can't breath!" but nothing came
out.

Suddenly, the view changed. He looked around, as he remembered were he was.
He was onboard the USS Halifax, in the old science room. He walked to his
old, familiar station, wondering what the hell was going on. He paused, as
he noticed someone was in his chair. He walked briskly forward, and hurled
the chair around in a furious fervor. "What the hell is . . . "

He stopped in mid-sentence. His mouth wide-opened in shock, and fear. In
front of him stood Alexis, but her face burnt, and her hands melting like the
walls melted earlier. "What's the manner Shane?" She asked, her question
echoing throughout the lab.

"Alexis?" Shane asked helplessly, as he began to walk backwards, trying to
get away. Chunks of flesh began to melt off her face, expose raw bone, and
muscles tissue. "My god." Shane gasped.

"Why weren't you here when this happened?" The question echoing, repeating
itself maddeningly. "Why did you take shore leave?" Alexis moved closer to
Shane. "You should have been here!" She moved her melting hand up to his
face. "You missed the chance, for wondrous scientific study." Another piece
of flesh slid off her check as she leaned forward to kiss.

Shane leaped from his bed, and collapsed to the floor with a bang. His eyes
still shut, and his arms swinging like a mad man. "No! No! No!" He
repeated, then swung opened his eyes as he realized the dream ended. Shane
glanced around suspiciously, sweating, with his heart pounding deep in his
throat. He looked down at his hand, and saw a chuck of something black on
it. "My god!" Shane snatched his hand back, and the bed cover fell on the
floor. It didn't take long for him to figure out that it wasn't a piece of
flesh on his hand, but rather, a piece of cloth. Shane covered his eyes
with his hands. "Christ! What a dream." Shane chuckled. "What a way to
begin a morning."

Taking a long, deep, breath to calm his nerves, Shane got up off the floor
and headed for the bathroom. On the way there, he smacked his foot against a
table, making a loud crunch sound. "Ow!" He grabbed his foot. "Computer,
lights!" The lights came flooding on. Shane rubbed his eyes, trying to
adjust to the brightness, and mumbled. "Thank-you" He went to the bathroom
and rinsed the perspiration from his face. Shane then went to his
computer, and sat down in the chair facing it.

Letting out a deep breath, he hit a button on the table-top computer.
"Computer, access all non-classified material on metallurgical virus,
catalogued as V-76."

"Acknowledged. Accessing." The computer replied, readily.

Shane glanced over at the data, and then recalled, the frightening, horrific
view of Alexis. Shane paused, as a thought began to emerged. "She wasn't
effected." Shane murmured, then leaned forward. "Hell, no one was. That
virus was only after metal." Shane shook his head. "It didn't make sense
then, and it doesn't make sense now." He looked through the non-classified
data, reading over carefully. He stopped at the picture of the virus
itself, and looked at it suspiciously. "You act as if you were some sort of
corrosive acid. But you're not. You're a virus. A virus, that doesn't
attack living tissue, or working cells. But only the molecular structure of
different metals." Shane clasped his hands together, and stared at the
virus, awed. "How do you work?"

[Return to Archives | Return to Listing ]

Quest For A Home, part 1
JL, FstLt Elana and Galex

FstLt. Elana took at seat at the bar in Galex's Resort. It had been a long
day down in Engineering, and following that, she had spent three hours
walking around the Outpost and the outlying living areas, posting a "looking
to buy" notice about a boat.
She knew exactly what model she wanted, what alternatives she'd settle for,
and how much she could afford to dish out. Eventually, she knew, that
somebody would actually come here and build a boat-construction facility.
That had a lot of potential. Maybe she'd do it, and it would give her an
excuse to be on the water all the time. Unfortunately for now, she had to
settle for buying a boat and getting it shipped here.
"One Plumerian fruit juice, chilled, please," she asked the bartender.
The Ferengi behind the bar moved away, then came back with a small ornate
glass, frosted, with a neat serving of PFJ and a twist of lemon in it. Elana
pressed her thumb to the credit pad, and took the drink with a smile of
thanks. The Ferengi nodded and left her alone to her musings for a while.
After about half and hour, and her third PFJ, the bartender leaned in
conspiritorously.
"So, I hear you're in the market for a boat," he opened
conversationally.
"Yes, I am," she admitted, eyeing him suspiciously.
"Galex knows a guy who's friends with a lady who's sister's husband's
cousin's
step-son has this water vessel he wants to get rid of -- too much hassle.
It's a sweet little vessel... and I'm sure it could be brought here in no
time at all."
She looked suspicious. "How much?"
"His friend's friend's sister's husband's cousin's step-son wants 50 bars
of
gold-pressed latinum for it, but will take 20 bars - or trade for 100 kilos
of
unique coral --he's a collector."
Elana chuckled. "And what about Galex's fee?" She was already too
familiar with Ferengi.
He wiped the bar down with utmost casualty. "Ten percent Finder's Fee,
plus 10% shipping and handling, for a total of 4 bars -- 40 strips -- of
gold-pressed latinum. And he doesn't take coral."

t b c

FstLt. Elana de Marco
Chief of Engineering
Outpost Cousteau