Disclaimer: I do not own 'Enterprise'. If I did, that 'someday there will
be some kind of directive' speech would never have happened.
Note: Inspired by Sick Boy having conversations in his head with Sean Connery in 'Trainspotting'. Real people in the story are as the characters perceive them to be, not as they really are (before anyone gets offended). All conversations take place inside the crew's own heads, before anyone gets confused, either.
Set during 'Terra Nova', just after Malcolm's been captured and the rest of the landing party have returned to the ship.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Why?"
"Why what, old fruit?"
"Why did you persuade me to hire him as my tactical officer?"
Dan Dare relaxed in the cosy surroundings of the captain's subconscious. He lit his pipe and sucked on it, thoughtfully. "Seemed the right chap for the job. Dashed nice fellow as well."
"Yes, but he's not all that good at it. Very enthusiastic, since you have to restrain him from blowing every passing asteroid to smithereens, but did you see him down there? No tactical officer should let himself get captured that easily."
"Damn loyal though. Top hole gentlemanly behaviour, lets his captain escape while he gets captured."
"It was stupid behaviour, not loyal behaviour."
Dan Dare's stiff upper lip got even stiffer, which the captain had come to realise meant that he was angry. The captain did occasionally wonder if it was normal to have an interior monologue with a 1950s comic book character, but dismissed the worry. If it had affected him badly he wouldn't have made it to Starfleet captain, would he?
"Course it's normal, old chap. Everyone talks to themselves once in a while."
The other problem with the interior Dan Dare was that he knew exactly what Jon was thinking, which could get rather annoying. "So, what do you suggest we do about getting him back?"
Dan Dare sucked his pipe some more. "Suppose you're going to have to talk to the johnnies down there. Can't blast your way in, might prang our man down there."
The only advantage of Dan Dare was the fact that he occasionally did talk some sense.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Meanwhile, in Malcolm's subconscious Richard, Coeur de Lion, was pacing about irritably, occasionally glaring in the direction of Malcolm's conscious mind, which was having none of this.
"I don't know what you are grumbling about. It's your bloody fault I'm in this mess."
"Ce n'etait pas ma faute!"
"Oh, really. Without your distracting little suggestion about tactics, which I didn't understand, I would have been able to be out with the captain right now."
Richard looked at him doubtfully.
"Alright, so the bullet in the leg would have been a hindrance, but I'd have got further without your interference. In French as well. Didn't you ever learn to speak English?"
"Anglais? Non! Un laungue pour un peasant, pas pour un Roi!"
Malcolm made a guess at the meaning of this from the tone of voice. "So you can understand me, but you won't demean yourself by speaking English?"
"Oui."
"Well, I wasn't taught French in school. How about German?"
Richard looked shifty all of a sudden.
"Aha. You would know all about hostage situations, having been taken prisoner yourself, wouldn't you? Learn some German whilst you were there?"
"Non."
"Scheisskopf."
Richard advanced menacingly towards Malcolm's consciousness.
"So you understand at least some German then. It might have been nice to have known all this earlier, but we never talk do we? Well, that's mainly because I find you intensely irritating..."
"Nous ne sommes pas...!"
"Yes, you are. All you ever do is grumble along in a language I don't understand." Malcolm sighed. He and Richard seemed to have reached an impasse. "Have any suggestions for getting us out of here?"
Richard started talking and Malcolm could tell this was another rambling military anecdote. If anything not understanding French was a relief, since it was probably even more dull if he knew what Richard was saying. He let Richard ramble on to some kind of conclusion.
"I need practical advice, not stories."
Richard opened his mouth and then thought better of it. He began to mime instead, very theatrically, sneaking up behind someone, drawing a broadsword and then hacking them into pieces. Very small pieces. Very enthusiastically.
"So you are suggesting that I, while injured in the leg, manage to sneak up on someone who has been watching me like a hawk constantly, and dismember him whilst I am totally unarmed. Well, thank you very much Richard, I don't know where I would be without your help."
Malcolm had hoped that Richard would go and sulk in his repressed memories, but no, Richard was in fighting mood and began ranting. Malcolm tried to concentrate on the pain in his leg to drown out Richard. It had occurred to him before that having what had to be an aspect of your personality that you didn't even speak the same language as was shading towards madness. He had at one point considered seeking help, but he knew that the first thing they did if they thought you were stark staring bonkers was take away sharp objects. And since this included both guns and explosives he felt that this would certainly drive him insane, so it was probably best not to mention anything.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"I was impressed at the way you took that guy down, kid."
"Thank you Buzz."
"I mean, they really don't appreciate you round here."
In Travis' subconscious Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin were polishing Travis' ego, their main occupation in between bickering with each other.
"Don't they?"
"No. Half the flying is by computer. I mean it's all 'heading this' and 'heading that', and 'maintain standard orbit'. Ain't exactly challenging is it?"
"We are going at warp five you know. You only made it to the moon."
"Only made it to the moon, kid?"
"Do you know how difficult it was? Hell, we were working on about as much computing power as is in your alarm clock."
"Yeah. That's proper flying."
Travis was slightly hurt. "Just because the flying's easier doesn't mean the mission's easier. We are meeting hostile races, strange new worlds, new civilisations... hey, that's kinda catchy."
"Sure is kid. We didn't mean to get at you. It's that captain of yours. Thinks he should be flying this thing."
"Way too much ego. I mean, you should be lieutenant by now. Just think of the lieutenant and the commander. You are way more competent than they are."
"That ain't hard though."
"Hey, I'm not going to sit here and let you badmouth my senior officers!"
"Why?"
"Because I respect them!"
"Why?"
"Because... because... I do, ok?"
"Kid, relax. I was just kidding with you."
"Hell, I wasn't. They really aren't competent."
"Don't burst the kid's illusions, Neil. It's not nice."
"He's gotta learn sometime."
"C'mon, cut him some slack."
"I'm teaching him a valuable lesson."
"But-"
"Who was first, Buzz?"
"That is not the point-"
"I said, who was first, Buzz?"
Buzz gritted his teeth. "You were, Neil."
"Yeah. And dontcha forget it."
Travis sighed inwardly. He did wish that they'd argue less.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
T'Pol was having problems. Vulcans did not have interior monologues, even if they were insane. However, she appeared to have acquired one. A human with cigar, glasses and strange moustache had appeared about two days ago in her consciousness and was refusing to leave.
"It is illogical. You should not be here."
"I'm not here. I'm a figment of crewman Cutler's imagination remember? Who are you going to believe, me or your own eyes?"
"Please return to crewman Cutler's subconscious then."
"She thinks too much. Women should be obscene and not heard."
"Your presence is affecting my ability to work."
"I'm not moving. Those are my principles. If you don't like them I have others."
T'Pol vowed to meditate the... creature into submission. It was having such an effect on her that during a Captain's briefing she had said of Commander Tucker "He may look like an idiot and talk like an idiot but don't let that fool you. He really is an idiot". Although the logic of this was undeniable, it had been inappropriate to say it then.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"I don't think we're in Kansas any more."
"No shit Dorothy. Is there any chance you's stop saying that?" Dorothy shook her head and Toto growled at Trip. "I gotta keep focused. We've got crewmember missin' y'know."
"Ding dong, the witch is dead, the wicked witch..."
"Stop that!"
A pair of red slippers poking out from under a farmhouse twitched a bit. "Mnnmanmnnnnmnmnmn mnmnmn mnmnmnmnm mnmnmnmnn."
"Look, you know I can't understand you when you've got a farmhouse on top o'ya. And even if I could I ain't takin' advice off of a wicked witch."
Suddenly Trip's consciousness was beset by a horde of flying monkeys. "Get offa me! Dammit, every time I so much as criticise you you let out the monkeys. It ain't friendly y'know."
"We'll be your friends" the tin man, the lion and the scarecrow weighed in.
"You already are my friends. Now, is there any chance that you could all go away and stop bothering me? I've got a lot of work to do. You could all follow that yellow brick road over there y'know."
"Why?"
"Whadda ya mean why? To get to the emerald city o'course."
"I may need courage, but green just isn't my colour."
"Fine. Then go play poker."
This was met with general agreement and they wandered deeper into the recesses of Trip's mind.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Note: Inspired by Sick Boy having conversations in his head with Sean Connery in 'Trainspotting'. Real people in the story are as the characters perceive them to be, not as they really are (before anyone gets offended). All conversations take place inside the crew's own heads, before anyone gets confused, either.
Set during 'Terra Nova', just after Malcolm's been captured and the rest of the landing party have returned to the ship.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Why?"
"Why what, old fruit?"
"Why did you persuade me to hire him as my tactical officer?"
Dan Dare relaxed in the cosy surroundings of the captain's subconscious. He lit his pipe and sucked on it, thoughtfully. "Seemed the right chap for the job. Dashed nice fellow as well."
"Yes, but he's not all that good at it. Very enthusiastic, since you have to restrain him from blowing every passing asteroid to smithereens, but did you see him down there? No tactical officer should let himself get captured that easily."
"Damn loyal though. Top hole gentlemanly behaviour, lets his captain escape while he gets captured."
"It was stupid behaviour, not loyal behaviour."
Dan Dare's stiff upper lip got even stiffer, which the captain had come to realise meant that he was angry. The captain did occasionally wonder if it was normal to have an interior monologue with a 1950s comic book character, but dismissed the worry. If it had affected him badly he wouldn't have made it to Starfleet captain, would he?
"Course it's normal, old chap. Everyone talks to themselves once in a while."
The other problem with the interior Dan Dare was that he knew exactly what Jon was thinking, which could get rather annoying. "So, what do you suggest we do about getting him back?"
Dan Dare sucked his pipe some more. "Suppose you're going to have to talk to the johnnies down there. Can't blast your way in, might prang our man down there."
The only advantage of Dan Dare was the fact that he occasionally did talk some sense.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Meanwhile, in Malcolm's subconscious Richard, Coeur de Lion, was pacing about irritably, occasionally glaring in the direction of Malcolm's conscious mind, which was having none of this.
"I don't know what you are grumbling about. It's your bloody fault I'm in this mess."
"Ce n'etait pas ma faute!"
"Oh, really. Without your distracting little suggestion about tactics, which I didn't understand, I would have been able to be out with the captain right now."
Richard looked at him doubtfully.
"Alright, so the bullet in the leg would have been a hindrance, but I'd have got further without your interference. In French as well. Didn't you ever learn to speak English?"
"Anglais? Non! Un laungue pour un peasant, pas pour un Roi!"
Malcolm made a guess at the meaning of this from the tone of voice. "So you can understand me, but you won't demean yourself by speaking English?"
"Oui."
"Well, I wasn't taught French in school. How about German?"
Richard looked shifty all of a sudden.
"Aha. You would know all about hostage situations, having been taken prisoner yourself, wouldn't you? Learn some German whilst you were there?"
"Non."
"Scheisskopf."
Richard advanced menacingly towards Malcolm's consciousness.
"So you understand at least some German then. It might have been nice to have known all this earlier, but we never talk do we? Well, that's mainly because I find you intensely irritating..."
"Nous ne sommes pas...!"
"Yes, you are. All you ever do is grumble along in a language I don't understand." Malcolm sighed. He and Richard seemed to have reached an impasse. "Have any suggestions for getting us out of here?"
Richard started talking and Malcolm could tell this was another rambling military anecdote. If anything not understanding French was a relief, since it was probably even more dull if he knew what Richard was saying. He let Richard ramble on to some kind of conclusion.
"I need practical advice, not stories."
Richard opened his mouth and then thought better of it. He began to mime instead, very theatrically, sneaking up behind someone, drawing a broadsword and then hacking them into pieces. Very small pieces. Very enthusiastically.
"So you are suggesting that I, while injured in the leg, manage to sneak up on someone who has been watching me like a hawk constantly, and dismember him whilst I am totally unarmed. Well, thank you very much Richard, I don't know where I would be without your help."
Malcolm had hoped that Richard would go and sulk in his repressed memories, but no, Richard was in fighting mood and began ranting. Malcolm tried to concentrate on the pain in his leg to drown out Richard. It had occurred to him before that having what had to be an aspect of your personality that you didn't even speak the same language as was shading towards madness. He had at one point considered seeking help, but he knew that the first thing they did if they thought you were stark staring bonkers was take away sharp objects. And since this included both guns and explosives he felt that this would certainly drive him insane, so it was probably best not to mention anything.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"I was impressed at the way you took that guy down, kid."
"Thank you Buzz."
"I mean, they really don't appreciate you round here."
In Travis' subconscious Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin were polishing Travis' ego, their main occupation in between bickering with each other.
"Don't they?"
"No. Half the flying is by computer. I mean it's all 'heading this' and 'heading that', and 'maintain standard orbit'. Ain't exactly challenging is it?"
"We are going at warp five you know. You only made it to the moon."
"Only made it to the moon, kid?"
"Do you know how difficult it was? Hell, we were working on about as much computing power as is in your alarm clock."
"Yeah. That's proper flying."
Travis was slightly hurt. "Just because the flying's easier doesn't mean the mission's easier. We are meeting hostile races, strange new worlds, new civilisations... hey, that's kinda catchy."
"Sure is kid. We didn't mean to get at you. It's that captain of yours. Thinks he should be flying this thing."
"Way too much ego. I mean, you should be lieutenant by now. Just think of the lieutenant and the commander. You are way more competent than they are."
"That ain't hard though."
"Hey, I'm not going to sit here and let you badmouth my senior officers!"
"Why?"
"Because I respect them!"
"Why?"
"Because... because... I do, ok?"
"Kid, relax. I was just kidding with you."
"Hell, I wasn't. They really aren't competent."
"Don't burst the kid's illusions, Neil. It's not nice."
"He's gotta learn sometime."
"C'mon, cut him some slack."
"I'm teaching him a valuable lesson."
"But-"
"Who was first, Buzz?"
"That is not the point-"
"I said, who was first, Buzz?"
Buzz gritted his teeth. "You were, Neil."
"Yeah. And dontcha forget it."
Travis sighed inwardly. He did wish that they'd argue less.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
T'Pol was having problems. Vulcans did not have interior monologues, even if they were insane. However, she appeared to have acquired one. A human with cigar, glasses and strange moustache had appeared about two days ago in her consciousness and was refusing to leave.
"It is illogical. You should not be here."
"I'm not here. I'm a figment of crewman Cutler's imagination remember? Who are you going to believe, me or your own eyes?"
"Please return to crewman Cutler's subconscious then."
"She thinks too much. Women should be obscene and not heard."
"Your presence is affecting my ability to work."
"I'm not moving. Those are my principles. If you don't like them I have others."
T'Pol vowed to meditate the... creature into submission. It was having such an effect on her that during a Captain's briefing she had said of Commander Tucker "He may look like an idiot and talk like an idiot but don't let that fool you. He really is an idiot". Although the logic of this was undeniable, it had been inappropriate to say it then.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"I don't think we're in Kansas any more."
"No shit Dorothy. Is there any chance you's stop saying that?" Dorothy shook her head and Toto growled at Trip. "I gotta keep focused. We've got crewmember missin' y'know."
"Ding dong, the witch is dead, the wicked witch..."
"Stop that!"
A pair of red slippers poking out from under a farmhouse twitched a bit. "Mnnmanmnnnnmnmnmn mnmnmn mnmnmnmnm mnmnmnmnn."
"Look, you know I can't understand you when you've got a farmhouse on top o'ya. And even if I could I ain't takin' advice off of a wicked witch."
Suddenly Trip's consciousness was beset by a horde of flying monkeys. "Get offa me! Dammit, every time I so much as criticise you you let out the monkeys. It ain't friendly y'know."
"We'll be your friends" the tin man, the lion and the scarecrow weighed in.
"You already are my friends. Now, is there any chance that you could all go away and stop bothering me? I've got a lot of work to do. You could all follow that yellow brick road over there y'know."
"Why?"
"Whadda ya mean why? To get to the emerald city o'course."
"I may need courage, but green just isn't my colour."
"Fine. Then go play poker."
This was met with general agreement and they wandered deeper into the recesses of Trip's mind.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~