Disclaimer: I do not own any -thing or -one, save the contents of this document. Every -thing and -one (again, excepting only this story) belongs to Gene Roddenberry or who/whichever party he has sold them to. In any case, not mine.
Archive: Yes, but email me first at prouder_reader@softhome.net. Unless you have some sort of permission, you can't archive this anyplace where anybody can make money off it (money made off ads on the same page do not count)
A/N: I use only the characters and setting of Andromeda, so the people don't remember events. As far as continuity goes, this is all taking place in an alternate Andromeda universe.
And on with the story...
Chapter 2 - In which Rommie speaks with Dylan
Rommie should be standing at left, Dylan sitting at a desk at right. There should be some sort of disk player on or in the desk, maybe as little a slot on the top with a button or two. Somewhere on the desk should be a time display and a computer terminal of some sort. A door to the right of the stage should be half-open and show a sink and mirror - this is the bathroom.
Dylan - What's the matter, Rommie?
Rommie - The Prime Minister of Nazbulia just sent me a ... dirty message.
Dylan - Prime Minister of Nazbulia? A dirty message? I don't understand.
Rommie - The Prime Minister of Nazbulia sent an encrypted message -
Dylan - All of the Nazbulian messages are encrypted.
Rommie - Yes, so Harper decided to crack it, just for fun. He then discovered that it was addressed to me, and passed it on to me.
Dylan - Are you sure Harper's not the one who made it in the first place?
Rommie - No. It's genuine. I checked the power-consumption and comm logs for the relay stations. They're all correct. Harper even got me a gauss field-strength report from some sort of line-maintenance droid that confirms a signal of the message's approximate length and content was transmitted from the Minister's desk at the message's departure time. Then I got into public service records, pulled the aforementioned power and comm logs, and traced an unbroken path from the communications center of the Capital Building to a federal courier office. The message was then burnt onto a comm capsule, sealed, write-protected, and ejected from the machine, presumably into the hands of the messenger that then delivered it.
Dylan - Harper got you the gauss-field report?
Rommie - He's clear; I've validated that report.
Dylan - Let me see?
Rommie - [hands over disk]
Dylan - Hmm...well, it bears the full Nazbulian crest, as well as relay watermarks from the Capital Building all the way to ... federal courier office 147b . [inserts into desk terminal]
[silence]
Dylan - Is that even possible?
Rommie - It is for Nazbulians.
[silence]
Dylan - What does ssalithsz'asmnasl mean? It didn't translate.
Rommie - I can't find it in my databanks. It's either new or ... or it's in Harper's folder.
Dylan - [stops recording] What does it mean, then?
Rommie - I said, it's in Harper's folder.
Dylan - Did he put something obscene in that folder?
Rommie - I wouldn't know. I have resolved not to access anything Harper points out with the sort of expression he had on his face when he pointed that folder out.
Dylan - Okay. [starts the disk again]
[silence]
Dylan - Good God, this is worse than high school Health...
Rommie - Keep watching.
[silence]
Dylan - Eurgh! [rushes to Bathroom]
Rommie - Captain! [stops message]
Dylan - [loud vomiting noises]
Rommie - Captain, are you ill?
Dylan - [retch]
[scene cut: 5 minutes later, same set]
Dylan - That was absolutely disgusting!
Rommie - Agreed.
Dylan - [rising]
Rommie - Where are you going?
Dylan - Bridge. I am going to give that pervert a piece of my mind. How dare he harass a member of my crew this way! I am going refuse any diplomatic ties with the Nazbulian Confederacy and exclude it from the Commonwealth until that depraved man is removed and banned from office.
Rommie - That's not necessary. It's okay, Dylan - Captain Hunt.
Dylan - It most certainly is not okay, Rommie. I couldn't even make it through the first [pause, glances at time display] three minutes without heaving! Nobody - nobody - treats any member of my crew this way, not on my watch, Rommie.
Rommie - Dylan, we need the Nazbulians. We might be the Andromeda Ascendant, but they are the chief manufacturers of food, munitions, and space hulls in the entire sector. Their Home Fleet alone can take on a good-sized Nietschean pride, and they've got seven other fleets of equal size, as well as the political and economic influence to rule this sector. Not to mention that they've already got a very good semi-democratic international setup here spanning fifteen empires and several sextillion cubic lightyears.
Dylan - Well, it's your message, how do you think we should handle it?
Rommie - I don't know, Dylan. I don't know. But we definitely need the Nazbulians.
Dylan - Well, I'll try to find out just what sort of a man this Prime Minister is.
Rommie - Thank you. I appreciate it.
Rommie exits. Dylan turns around and starts to use the computer terminal.
A/N: People, if you're going to read this, have the decency to review it. It doesn't have to be good. You can tell me to go take a long walk off a short cliff. Just review. Please, people. It's not that hard. If you're not reviewing because you don't know how, here it is: There is a menu in the bottom left corner of the page (not your screen, that's the START menu). It should be purple and have a GO button next to it. See it? Set it to SUBMIT REVIEW and click GO.
Is the quota is too high? Next chapter is three more reviews, okay?