TITLE: Dear Annie ("Marauders")
AUTHOR: Mara Greengrass
AUTHOR'S E-MAIL: fishfolk@ix.netcom.com. Feedback is better than chocolate.
PERMISSION TO ARCHIVE: Linguistics Database, others, just let me know.
CATEGORY: Gen
RATINGS/WARNINGS: G
SUMMARY: Hoshi writes home after the events of "Marauders."
DISCLAIMER: Enterprise and all its crew belong to Paramount and many other entities with expensive lawyers. I am making no profit from this story.
NOTES: Thanks as always to the incomparable Captain Average, the superhero who encourages. And thanks again to the lovely fanfiction.net reviewers who don't leave me an e-mail to contact them. Please, pretty please, give me some way to thank you personally. I feel terrible for not responding to your lovely remarks.
DEDICATION: Now and ever for Jessica, who's in the US for a few weeks :) Jess-Jess, I miss you when you're gone!
* * * * *
Dear Annie,
I thought of you the other day, and how we always bemoaned the fact people want things to be black and white. I could practically see you stomping up and down and yelling "If you want the rules to be simple, play tic-tac-toe!"
But you'd be surprised how much I've changed in the last year, I think. I'm a lot more bloodthirsty (the result of seeing too many people hurt), a lot braver (the result of so many close calls, I'm running low on adrenaline), and a lot better shot with an energy weapon (the result of fear and intensive training by Malcolm).
Now, I think I understand why people start to see things in black and white. We needed deuterium, you see, so we set out for this mining colony the Kreetassens suggested, and by the time we got there, Trip was looking pretty peaked about our deuterium levels.
When Trip, T'Pol, and the Captain went down, the people refused to sell to us, but they worked out a deal: we'd get our deuterium if Trip and the engineering staff could fix two of their pumps. I figured we had it in the bag--that man can fix *anything*.
So, there we were, sitting in orbit when, out of nowhere, this Klingon ship appears. Turns out the miners couldn't sell us deuterium because the Klingons would kill them if they didn't get it all.
We found that out later. First, the Captain ordered us to keep Enterprise out of the way of the Klingons, so Travis tucked us neatly on the other side of the planet. Meanwhile, Trip finished up with the pumps, and the colony's doctor came on board to pick up some medical supplies we were trading them.
I went down to the shuttle bay to pick her up and drop her off in Sickbay, and she seemed nice, but skittish. I wondered what was wrong, and Phlox was even more suspicious when he saw what she was taking. Mining may be dangerous, but he said she looked like she was gearing up for war. Or maybe just hostile Klingons.
I swear, Klingons are just the universe's schoolyard bullies. I'm sure they must have some redeeming features, but I'll leave it to you cultural anthros to figure out what they are. Speaking of which, at least the Klingons aren't just humans with bumpy foreheads. Why, I ask you, are so many of the races we meet apparently humans with bumpy foreheads? You'd think evolution on so many different worlds would get a little creative now and then, but apparently not. This is one of the great mysteries of the universe, I think.
So, Trip fixed the pumps, the Klingons said they'd be back in a few days to get their deuterium, and the miners told us to take our booty and go--they'd deal with the Klingons.
Well, Captain Archer didn't take that well. (Sometimes I think the man should have a cape like that Superman guy in the comics Trip loaned me.) Telling him to leave a colony of helpless miners at the mercy of a bunch of bullies...it's like wiggling your finger in front of Phlox's bat and expecting it to sit there nicely. Not likely! The Captain and T'Pol had words in his ready room. I'm not sure what they said, but he went back to the planet to talk to the leader.
(I'd give just about anything to know exactly what they talked about, because they seemed oddly in accord when they came out. Usually after one of these discussions, the Captain looks like he'd rather be kicking her out an airlock than walking next to her.)
And somehow Captain Archer convinced him to let us help drive the Klingons off. I'm not sure how he does it, exactly. Maybe it's the honesty and the earnestness--he cares deeply and somehow, many of the species we encounter seem to figure that out the minute he starts talking.
Then came the difficult task of training these people enough that they could actually defend themselves, and setting up the Malcolm and the Captain's convoluted plan. I'm glad I'm not in tactics, because honestly, I couldn't figure it out.
Travis went off to help T'Pol with martial arts, and for a big guy, he looked pretty frightened at the prospect. I went to help Malcolm with shooting practice in the armory, and that was kind of fun. I don't think he'd gotten around to noticing just how much I've improved recently, so when I took the gun away from that colonist and pointed out exactly what he was doing wrong, Malcolm looked pretty impressed. (It was like the time Tracy wowed our Vulcan instructor so much, he actually blinked when she spoke with her vastly improved accent. Remember that?)
Once they left the ship, I was stuck on the bridge, waiting for the Klingons to appear, so we could signal everyone on the colony below. They came, they saw, we conquered. I still don't understand why they were scared off so easily, but I suppose we weren't dealing with the cream of the Klingon High Council, so that might have something to do with it. In any case, another day, another people freed from tyranny.
You know, just another boring day out in deep space.
It worries me a bit that we're going to go around and get ourselves mixed up in every struggle we encounter. Aha! I hear you say. You're right, I guess it's not as black and white as I was saying at the beginning of this letter. You know me so well.
It would have hurt me almost as badly as the Captain, to leave these people to be bullied and injured--but what if we'd failed? What if we'd gotten them killed? What if we'd gotten ourselves killed? Couldn't we have sent a message to their home planet? Asked for assistance from the Vulcans?
Surely even the Vulcans couldn't look down on us for being unable to stay in one place and guard a colony, since that's not our mission.
But it wasn't my decision to make, and the Captain turned out to be correct, and the Klingons turned tail and fled. I just hope they don't come back after we're gone.
Sometimes I wish I'd stayed on Earth, happily teaching Vulcan to the masses, where my most difficult dilemma would be whether to spend a month in Brazil or Argentina.
Love,
Hoshi
AUTHOR: Mara Greengrass
AUTHOR'S E-MAIL: fishfolk@ix.netcom.com. Feedback is better than chocolate.
PERMISSION TO ARCHIVE: Linguistics Database, others, just let me know.
CATEGORY: Gen
RATINGS/WARNINGS: G
SUMMARY: Hoshi writes home after the events of "Marauders."
DISCLAIMER: Enterprise and all its crew belong to Paramount and many other entities with expensive lawyers. I am making no profit from this story.
NOTES: Thanks as always to the incomparable Captain Average, the superhero who encourages. And thanks again to the lovely fanfiction.net reviewers who don't leave me an e-mail to contact them. Please, pretty please, give me some way to thank you personally. I feel terrible for not responding to your lovely remarks.
DEDICATION: Now and ever for Jessica, who's in the US for a few weeks :) Jess-Jess, I miss you when you're gone!
* * * * *
Dear Annie,
I thought of you the other day, and how we always bemoaned the fact people want things to be black and white. I could practically see you stomping up and down and yelling "If you want the rules to be simple, play tic-tac-toe!"
But you'd be surprised how much I've changed in the last year, I think. I'm a lot more bloodthirsty (the result of seeing too many people hurt), a lot braver (the result of so many close calls, I'm running low on adrenaline), and a lot better shot with an energy weapon (the result of fear and intensive training by Malcolm).
Now, I think I understand why people start to see things in black and white. We needed deuterium, you see, so we set out for this mining colony the Kreetassens suggested, and by the time we got there, Trip was looking pretty peaked about our deuterium levels.
When Trip, T'Pol, and the Captain went down, the people refused to sell to us, but they worked out a deal: we'd get our deuterium if Trip and the engineering staff could fix two of their pumps. I figured we had it in the bag--that man can fix *anything*.
So, there we were, sitting in orbit when, out of nowhere, this Klingon ship appears. Turns out the miners couldn't sell us deuterium because the Klingons would kill them if they didn't get it all.
We found that out later. First, the Captain ordered us to keep Enterprise out of the way of the Klingons, so Travis tucked us neatly on the other side of the planet. Meanwhile, Trip finished up with the pumps, and the colony's doctor came on board to pick up some medical supplies we were trading them.
I went down to the shuttle bay to pick her up and drop her off in Sickbay, and she seemed nice, but skittish. I wondered what was wrong, and Phlox was even more suspicious when he saw what she was taking. Mining may be dangerous, but he said she looked like she was gearing up for war. Or maybe just hostile Klingons.
I swear, Klingons are just the universe's schoolyard bullies. I'm sure they must have some redeeming features, but I'll leave it to you cultural anthros to figure out what they are. Speaking of which, at least the Klingons aren't just humans with bumpy foreheads. Why, I ask you, are so many of the races we meet apparently humans with bumpy foreheads? You'd think evolution on so many different worlds would get a little creative now and then, but apparently not. This is one of the great mysteries of the universe, I think.
So, Trip fixed the pumps, the Klingons said they'd be back in a few days to get their deuterium, and the miners told us to take our booty and go--they'd deal with the Klingons.
Well, Captain Archer didn't take that well. (Sometimes I think the man should have a cape like that Superman guy in the comics Trip loaned me.) Telling him to leave a colony of helpless miners at the mercy of a bunch of bullies...it's like wiggling your finger in front of Phlox's bat and expecting it to sit there nicely. Not likely! The Captain and T'Pol had words in his ready room. I'm not sure what they said, but he went back to the planet to talk to the leader.
(I'd give just about anything to know exactly what they talked about, because they seemed oddly in accord when they came out. Usually after one of these discussions, the Captain looks like he'd rather be kicking her out an airlock than walking next to her.)
And somehow Captain Archer convinced him to let us help drive the Klingons off. I'm not sure how he does it, exactly. Maybe it's the honesty and the earnestness--he cares deeply and somehow, many of the species we encounter seem to figure that out the minute he starts talking.
Then came the difficult task of training these people enough that they could actually defend themselves, and setting up the Malcolm and the Captain's convoluted plan. I'm glad I'm not in tactics, because honestly, I couldn't figure it out.
Travis went off to help T'Pol with martial arts, and for a big guy, he looked pretty frightened at the prospect. I went to help Malcolm with shooting practice in the armory, and that was kind of fun. I don't think he'd gotten around to noticing just how much I've improved recently, so when I took the gun away from that colonist and pointed out exactly what he was doing wrong, Malcolm looked pretty impressed. (It was like the time Tracy wowed our Vulcan instructor so much, he actually blinked when she spoke with her vastly improved accent. Remember that?)
Once they left the ship, I was stuck on the bridge, waiting for the Klingons to appear, so we could signal everyone on the colony below. They came, they saw, we conquered. I still don't understand why they were scared off so easily, but I suppose we weren't dealing with the cream of the Klingon High Council, so that might have something to do with it. In any case, another day, another people freed from tyranny.
You know, just another boring day out in deep space.
It worries me a bit that we're going to go around and get ourselves mixed up in every struggle we encounter. Aha! I hear you say. You're right, I guess it's not as black and white as I was saying at the beginning of this letter. You know me so well.
It would have hurt me almost as badly as the Captain, to leave these people to be bullied and injured--but what if we'd failed? What if we'd gotten them killed? What if we'd gotten ourselves killed? Couldn't we have sent a message to their home planet? Asked for assistance from the Vulcans?
Surely even the Vulcans couldn't look down on us for being unable to stay in one place and guard a colony, since that's not our mission.
But it wasn't my decision to make, and the Captain turned out to be correct, and the Klingons turned tail and fled. I just hope they don't come back after we're gone.
Sometimes I wish I'd stayed on Earth, happily teaching Vulcan to the masses, where my most difficult dilemma would be whether to spend a month in Brazil or Argentina.
Love,
Hoshi