"Do what?"
"You know what."
"No I don't.... whoa.... wait a minute. What's going on here?"
"I beg your pardon."
"What, I mean how... I mean... shit...."
"I beg your pardon?"
"The last time I checked, you were an action figure. Sitting on my
desk, attached to a rather silly little stand in the shape of Star Trek
Communicator pin. Shit. Too much coffee."
"Watch your language. And you drink decaf."
"How do you know that? Hey. Don't change the subject."
"I gave you an order."
"You gave me an order? I heard your order. As a matter of fact that's
the problem, isn't it.... I heard your order."
"Speak clearly, don't mutter."
"Yes Ma'am. Yikes. I've got to get a grip. I'm obviously spending far
too much time in front of the computer."
"You're avoiding the matter, aren't you?"
"I'm avoiding the matter? I've got a nine inch plastic doll talking to
me and ... How did you do that?"
"Do what?"
"Get your hands onto your hips? I've been trying to do that for ages
but you won't bend..."
"I've been told that before."
"I can imagine."
"Enough. I've given you an assignment and I want you to carry it out.
Now."
"Look. I don't know what you're talking about. And the fact that you
are talking to me is a bit bizarre to say the least. Give me a minute
to figure out exactly what's going on, will you... Maybe if I reboot...
I could try running a disk defrag..."
"Young woman, whether you run a disk defrag, as you call it, or a
complete diagnostic doesn't change the fact that I expect you to carry
out my orders."
"Now I know this is an hallucination. I'm older than you are."
"And you are obviously unused to following orders."
"Well... yes, I usually give them. And expect them to be carried out."
"Well then...you know exactly how I feel, don't you?"
"How you feel? You're plastic, for goodness sakes."
"I've been told that too."
"...Mind you, that's not really your fault, is it. What was it Jessica
Rabbit said? "I'm not bad, I'm just drawn that way."
"Jessica Rabbit?"
"She was a cartoon...never mind. This is ridiculous."
"It is. So. Let's get back to the matter at hand. How are you
planning to do it?"
"Do what?"
"Kill Seven."
"Kill Seven?"
Must you repeat almost everything I say?"
"Sorry. I guess I'm still in a bit of shock. I've never had a
conversation with an action figure before."
"I used to be an action figure. I used to get all kinds of action."
"You did? I must have missed those episodes."
"Not that kind of action. Unfortunately. Although I wouldn't have
minded...."
"You wouldn't? That's not what I read."
"Yes. Well... don't believe everything you read. They used to call me
Action Kate. I used to be deadly with a compression phaser rifle. But
since that misshapen bundle of flesh and hardware arrived on board my
ship, I haven't gotten off the bridge more than half a dozen times. And
when I do manage to find something interesting to do, she's either
fighting me all the way, making me look like an incompetent moron, or
monopolizing the rest my crew. She even has Naomi Wildman following her
around like a puppy. Mind you, that's not such a bad thing. I was
constantly tripping over the child. She tends to pop out from around
corners."
"Yes... well...Naomi is helping Seven regain her humanity."
"That drone has been working on her humanity since the moment I made the
mistake of severing her from the Collective. She is Borg. She is
supposed to be a highly intelligent being. How long should it have
taken her to figure the whole thing out?"
"Oh, I agree with you there. Not this long."
But the latest development is the worst. She has invaded my territory."
"Chakotay."
"He's mine."
"I'm glad to hear you say that. We all think so."
"We?"
"All the J/C writers."
"All the J/C ... there are more?"
"Hundreds."
"And you all write about us?"
"Oh yes. Now I have a question for you."
"Go ahead."
"Why me? And what is it, exactly, that you think I can do to help you?"
"It has been brought to my attention that you have written several
stories about me and my crew over the years. I believe the genre you
work in is known as fan fiction. I didn't know that there were
others...."
"Oh no. How did you find me? I thought I'd done everything I could to
stay anonymous. If this ever gets out I'm toast. Damn it, those new
search engines are deadly."
"My methodology is not important. I have found you, and you will
comply... no, I hate that word... you will obey my orders."
"Or? What could you do to me? You're nine inches tall. You've got a
plastic pony tail, for goodness sakes..."
"No hair discussion. That's an order."
"...And from what I can see, you might be able to wave your arms around,
but you haven't moved from your ... your... communicator pin."
"Believe me, I can make your life miserable."
"So I'm beginning to see. Don't glare at me like that."
"It seems that you are, to some small degree, able to manipulate our
fate. I have noticed, over the past several seasons, that there have
been some... incidents that seem have a occurred as a direct result of
your work."
"Yeah. Right. So far as I can figure, those bloody writers have done
just about everything possible to aggravate me, and the rest of the few
Star Trek fans left in the universe. Most of the story lines are
totally opposite to anything any of us ever want to see. Or what we
write."
"Exactly."
Okay... So... You want me to kill Seven. Do you have any suggestions?"
"I will leave that completely up to you."
"Gee. Thanks."
"I have read some of your files. You are more that capable of finding
an imaginative way of getting rid of her."
"Well, if you had read all of my files, you would have noticed that I
killed her off last week. I had her implants explode."
"Nanoprobes."
"Shit."
"Yes. Those damn things are constantly saving the day."
"And you figure that if I can come up with something directly opposite
to what TPTB would do..."
"The what?"
"Oh... TPTB... the Powers that Be. You know. The writers, producers..."
"I see. Yes. That's my theory."
"Well... it just might work."
"How so?"
"There have been a fair number of writing challenges floating around
recently. I've been wracking my brain trying to come up with responses.
Your... ummm... request fits right in. All right. I'll try it."
"Good."
"But I'll do it in my own way."
"Fine. Just do it."
~*~
"I want you." she cried with passion absolute.
"This is hard." He complained with some impatience.
She stroked as he worked and she heard a quick pop
He lowered her down to the cargo bay floor
She grasped him between her strong thighs securely;
~*~
"So... There you go, Captain. I've done it. Actually he's done it.
Now...what do you think? Hey? Talk to me. Are you ....? Oh. Never
mind."
(the end... thank goodness)
Explanation: Another response to the Die Seven Die challenge.
Disclaimer: At this point, I'm not sure just who owns what any more...
Challenged
by Cybermum
"Do it."
"I'm yours." he replied as he tackled her suit.
"But tell me" she asked as he tugged at the zip
"How long will it take?" And she bit at his lip.
"Ouch." He responded as he undid a strap.
"Is this right?" She asked. And she sat in his lap.
"That's fine." He groaned as he worked at a button.
And hoped she wasn't a sexual glutton.
"I hope so." She answered. "I'd like relations."
"I meant" He explained with a suffering sigh.
"I cannot quite remove this hook from this eye."
She wiggled a bit and she smiled at his moans
"Seven, you have studied erogenous zones."
"Oh yes, Commander." And she licked at his brow.
"My finger is caught in your stomacher. Ow."
"You like that?" she asked him. "Oh yes. Please don't stop."
"Well what are you waiting for, do something too -
The manuals I've studied say sex includes two."
"Wait one more minute, I'm stuck at your corset"
"Chakotay" she panted. "Why not just force it."
"You're right." he exclaimed and grabbed at his blazer,
Reached in the pocket, and pulled out his phaser.
She hardly noticed. She'd begun to explore
His hard manly body (or so he believed)
But she only wanted her tension relieved.
He took careful aim right before he acted
It wasn't his fault that he was distracted
When Seven began to writhe and to spasm
"Oh my God" she screamed. "I've had a Borgasm."
The phaser fired a bit prematurely.
And unfortunately when cocking the gun
He'd neglected to reset power to stun.
"Commander" she gasped as she fought for a breath
"I did not believe that sex lead could lead to death."
"I'm sorry." He sobbed at what had transpired.
"Irrelevant." she said as she expired.