Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek. I do not claim to be authorised to
speak for Paramount nor any other person that makes more in one day then
what it would cost to bury me. I am a poor person who is a fan of the Star
Trek phenomenon whom is just trying to keep the dream alive by this
fanfiction. Gene was a visionary whom we should all owe a debt of
gratitude to for bringing us a positive view of the future. I do not
intend to make money by this work of fiction or gain in any material way.
If in the event an emergency landing occurs you can exit this fanfiction
*points* here and *points* there. Thank you for flying Mojo fantasylines,
and remember....when in danger or in doubt, run in circles scream and
shout!
Okay this is the full chapter and not just the teaser....enjoy.....puke.....do what you want to do....but feedback is always welcome.....bad or good......
Star Trek: Dreamweaver
By
Mojo2722
"I understand what Starfleet's orders were and until my dying day will follow whatever command they give me no matter how fool hardy with all of my ability," the Captain paced behind the desk of his ready room, "What I do not understand is why they sent you here."
From her seat across the desk from him she smiled and replied, "I am a prototype series ten holographic recreational design hologram. I have been created with the hope that I will be able to create recreational holodeck experiences that will relax your crew enough to increase over-all ship performance."
The captain slammed his hands and braced his arms against the table, "I don't care if you were born of that glorified-head-of-Starfleet-medical- EMH's egoistical behind!"
She drew back in the chair and clenched her fingers around the ends of the armrest. "Starfleet meant no harm by sending me here to conduct my experiments and trials."
The captain eased back and clenched the small of his nose between his thumb and his forefinger. He turned to the viewport that overlooked the stars flying by at warp and responded, "I understand that. I wouldn't be a Starfleet officer if I didn't take that one thing to be gospel. The simple fact that the brass don't try intentionally do things that would harm the people in the field."
She eased up on her grip of the armrest and asked, "Then why do you hold such hostility for me being assigned to your ship, Captain?"
He turned and walked over to the replicator. After having ordered a cup of chai tea, and taking a few sips of it did he respond, "It's simple really." He walked back to his chair and sat down. He sat the cup of chai down and coldly explained, "You are not real."
She stood up and laughed, "I am not real?"
He had a warm smile as he enjoyed the hot chai, and an icy gaze when he responded, "No you are not. You are a hologram."
She spiraled behind the chair and grasped the back of it. She looked down at him and said, "The Holo-lifeform act of stardate..."
"States that you have all rights that a physically born life form has. I know the act," he calmly cut her off. He took another sip of his chai, stared at the froth for a second, and continued, "Just because the computer calls this chai tea, doesn't by any means make it real. It is real in the sense that it is here, but it will never be chai tea."
Her brows clenched and then she asked, "So you are saying just because I am made of force fields and photons and not flesh and blood that I am not real?"
He set his cup down, picked up a padd, and began to scroll through the days reports. "I am saying that you are not a real person in my eyes and never will be one. I may have to accept you and treat you as an equal due to the Holo-lifeform Act and your assignment here, but don't think for a minute that I feel you are even an equal to the worms used to loosen the soil in the arboretum," he answered not bothering to look up from the report.
She shook her head. Her program had only been online and fully functional for a few months. She herself had only really interacted with the technicians at Jupiter Station, and they all seemed to get along well with sentient holograms. The Captain's reaction just now would make only the third encounter she had ever had with people who were prejudiced against sentient holograms. She reached down and picked up her small suitcase. She opened it's lid and quickly retrieved a hand padd. She tossed it to the Captain.
Surprised he dropped the padd with the reports on it, and caught the smaller hand padd that she had tossed. He quickly oriented it in his hands and began to skim the contents, "So what is this?"
"My orders, and orders for you regarding my mission here and what is expected of you by starfleet," She responded. She turned towards the door to the ready room and began to walk towards it.
The Captain stood up, "I didn't give you permission to leave, Crewman."
"According to you I am not real so I don't think it really matters," she commented. The doors to the ready room slid open, "If you need me I will be on deck 11 installing some new holodeck programs. I would suggest you read carefully just how much power Starfleet Command has endowed me with to ensure the success of my mission."
She stepped out onto the bridge and made her way to the turbolift, ignoring the fuming rants of the Captain that trailed off behind her.Within the span of a few minutes she was on deck 11 and was at the controls of holodeck 2.
"Computer, have the files for Crewman Monet been transferred from Starbase 202 yet?" she asked.
The computer droned back, "Specified files have completed transfer."
"Well that's one thing that is going right today," She remarked. She quickly worked the controls of the holodeck and asked, "Computer, what program is currently being run in the holodeck?"
The computer responded, "Program Zabok Three is currently running in holodeck 2."
"Zabok Three, huh? Sounds like fun," she commented. She quickly tapped the keys of the holodeck controls and turned towards the door. The doors moaned open to reveal a wooded scene.
She walked into the woods the doors to the holodeck moaning shut and dematerializing behind her. The sound of the birds in the canopy seemed to echo around the streams of sunlight that managed to hit the forest floor. The forest before her curved down and finally dished out into a small pond at the bottom. Standing on the banks of the pond was a solo figure dressed in a Starfleet uniform. She made her way down the hill through the trees and when she was within 15 meters of what was obviously a male Vulcan standing with his back to her she called out, "Hello there."
The man motioned with his hand for her to go away. He held in his other hand a fishing rod.
She was within three meters of him when she asked, "Well I am not going away, why not introduce yourself?"
"Shhh," he whispered, "Ol' Pete will here you and get spooked."
His voice was not proper like the information she had been programmed with about typical Vulcans, at least the ones that followed in the teachings of Surak that was. As she came up to his side she asked, "Who's Old Pete?"
He quietly explained, "Ol' Pete is the level 14 adversary of this program and one stubborn flathead catfish that I have spent over 93 hours of off duty time trying to catch. Who may I ask are you?"
"I'm Crewman Monet. I just got transferred here from service aboard the Jupiter Station in the Terran Sector," She replied.
Slowly clicking the reel in he cooly responded, "I am Lt. Zabok, it was nice meeting you Crewman Monet, but my holodeck time I prefer to spend by myself. If you will excuse me I have a fish to catch."
"So did Ishmael and look where it got him," she said with a smile.
He concentrated on the slight vibration at the end of the pole, smiled, and commented, "Moby Dick was a whale and therefore a mammal. A better analogy would have been Captain Quint who commanded the Orca in the 20th century video play 'Jaws'. Am I to assume that you think my obsession with capturing Ol' Pete will result in him eating me?"
She watched as the end of the rod bent downward slightly, the obvious sign of a fish nibbling and trying to take the bait from the hook. She answered, "No I don't think he will eat you. It's just programs like this challenge skill but they do nothing to challenge the mind."
He muffled a laugh, "It took me over 12 hours to conceive of a bait that I thought Ol' Pete would take a liking to. What do you mean this sort of program doesn't challenge the mind?"
"You know the outcome. Eventually with enough trial and error you will catch Old Pete and advance to the next level," she explained.
Carefully studying the gentle bending of the pole he remarked, "I suppose you have a better idea to challange both skill and the mind?"
"Well I have been sent here by Starfleet Command to test my abilities in holographic design. I have been my subroutines were programmed by some of the brightest holographic engineers in Starfleet and it's hoped the programs I come up with will be able to increase crew performance on long duration missions like this ship is on," She replied.
He turned his head towards her and raised an eyebrow. "Programmed?" he asked.
She smiled and explained, "I am a prototype Series Ten Holographic Recreational Design Hologram. The engineers on Jupiter Station spent over 60,000 man-hours in my creation."
The tip of his pole bent down sharply. Lt. Zabok let out a bit of line from the reel causing the tip of the pole to relax back straight. "60,000 hours is quite impressive."
She stepped closer to the bank and looked down where the line from the rod plunged into the murky depths of the pond, "You don't have a problem with working with holograms do you, Lieutenant?"
The tip of the pole stopped moving. Lt. Zabok cautiously began to reel the line in slowly a few inches at a time. "Not at all," He answered, "Three weeks ago I attended a conference on Starbase 183 on holo-novel writing techniques. I am quite comfortable working with holograms."
"That's good to hear."
The tip of the pole jerked violently. Lt. Zabok pulled back on the rod and began to reel furiously. "It would appear this isn't Ol' Pete's lucky day." He continued to fight with the flathead catfish who was struggling in the depths of the pond on the other side of the line.
The line snapped.
Lt. Zabok flew backwards onto the ground the rod flying out of his hand. Crewman Monet walked over to him, extended a hand down to help him up and consoled, "Tough luck. You almost had him."
He grasped her hand and climbed to his feet. "I am beginning to think it's going to take an explosive device to bring Ol' Pete to the surface. Looks like I programmed him with just a bit too much guile," he remarked, "So what were you talking about when you mentioned raising crew morale?"
She let go of his hand. "It's simple really," she explained, "Cataloging nebula and studying composition of asteroids in deep space day after day without a change of pace can have the result of demoralizing the crew and thereby decreasing crew performance. This ship's efficiency rating was unsatisfactory at last inspection, and is the key reason it was selected for me to be assigned to. I have several programs that I have written that I need to test. One of them is nearly complete, it just needs a bit of fine tuning in order to be ready."
He picked up his fishing rod and inspected it for damage. He asked, "What sort of program is it? A training program?"
She called out for an arch and as the control interface materialized in the clearing behind them answered, "No it is a recreational program designed to boost morale." She tapped away at the controls of the arch and asked, "So you have an interest in writing holo-novels and some real world experience in writing holographic subroutines then, Lieutenant?"
He walked over to the arch beside her, "Yes, it's how I've kept sane over the last 3 years of this assignment. When you are assigned to engineering onboard a ship that makes the occasional milk run transporting colonists and spends all of its remaining time studying the composition of already charted gas giants to fill in missing information to the Federation Database you have to do something to keep sharp. If we were studying the unknown perhaps there would be more of a demand on the engineering staff. However as it stands I have spent the majority of my on-duty time over the last 3 years in the Jefferies Tubes preforming redundant preventative maintenance."
The pond and the forest faded as the program ended and the grid of the holoemitters lining the walls of the holodeck reappeared. "Good. I could use the help of a qualified engineer. How would you like a change of assignment?"
He arched a brow and asked, "Crewman?"
She explained, "I have the token rank of Crewman onboard this ship. However, on deck 11 I have full autonomy and control of what happens in regards to the holodecks and the personnel that I require to make my mission work. I can only imagine that the Captain is having an aneurism right now as he reads exactly how far reaching my powers are when it comes to my assignment."
Intrigued by her offer he cautiously asked, "What would I be able to help you with?"
"Well this for starters," she responded. She tapped away at the holodeck controls and the room around them took on the form of a new setting as a new holodeck program began to run. The were standing in the middle of a field of tall grass atop a hill. Two small moons loomed overhead. In the distance smoldering chunks of twisted metal beams and various debris dotted the valley before them.
With his fishing pole in hand Lt. Zabok scanned the panorama of the scene and asked, "Where are we?"
Crewman Monet opened her small suitcase and pulled out what appeared to be a device similar to a medical tricorder. She pulled the cylindrical probe out of the base unit and in the same motion unfolded the display screen of the palm sized device. She began to walk down the hill scanning objects as she went. "That is the question most people will be asking when this program goes online."
Lt. Zabok followed her down the hill, "That really doesn't answer my question, Crewman."
"Monet," she commented.
He grunted, "Okay then, Crewman Monet."
She smiled as they came up to a personal escape pod. "I don't' think you understand," she explained. She scanned the pod with the tricorder. She continued, "By the power vested in me by Starfleet Command deck 11 is mine. So I expect my assistants to just call me by my name, Monet. There is no need for rank designations on my team."
"I see," he replied, "But I still would like to know where exactly this is."
"Maybe you should ask the person in the escape pod," she answered. She stepped back and closed the tricorder.
Lt. Zabok approached the escape pod. It was partially buried in the ground from the impact and sparks were flying off of the controls to open the hatch. He reached out and began to tap the emergency open commands into the controls. A bolt of discharging energy shot through his arm causing him to withdraw his arm and wince in pain. Exacerbating his pain verbally he turned to Monet and asked, "The holodeck safety protocols appear to be offline enough to deliver pain. How exactly do you propose I get the hatch open without shocking myself?"
"I don't know, Zabok," she replied, "However in about 2 minutes the person in there is going to asphyxiate due to the fact life support to this escape pod was lost upon impact with the ground.
He turned back to the escape pod and reexamined the situation. He needed to key in the final three command codes into the controls to get the hatch to open. The only way he knew of doing it from the outside was by using the control panel, however if he touched the control panel he would be delivered with a shocking pain that would not be pleasant.
He needed to isolate himself from the electrical discharge. He needed an insulator. Zabok's eyes darted around the area of the escape pod trying to find a piece of non-conductive material that may have landed in the debris along with the escape pod to no avail. He searched farther around the escape pod trying to find that one key item that most holo- novelists left behind to solve the situation.
No luck.
He turned back to Monet and groaned, "I just want to know where the setting of this holodeck program is supposed to be!"
Monet calmly droned, "30 seconds."
In a last ditch effort to find the object that would allow him to solve the problem he started to throw his fishing rod to the side only to catch it with his free hand. He fumbled with it and turned it upside down so the reel end of the rod was facing up. "Rubber," he smiled looking at the butt tip of the rod. He quickly moved back over to the controls of the escape pod and used the rubber ended butt of the rod to key in the last command codes.
The hatch blew open and a fair haired human male sat up gasping for breath. Several seconds later the human said, "Thank God!" He gasped a few more deep breaths and continued, "You saved me Zabok, a few more seconds in that coffin and I would have died!"
Zabok dropped the rod and reached out to help him out of the escape pod. "Who are you?" Zabok asked.
Stepping out of the escape pod with Zabok's aid the man replied, "Your pod must have landed head first. It's me Tyler! The guy you owe 20 credits to due to your poor choice of wagering at last weeks poker game. The man noticed Monet and spoke up, "It's nice to see you made it, Monet."
"Likewise," she smiled
Zabok laid Tyler to the ground kneeling beside him to check his vitals by hand. The blood stain and corresponding bump protruding in the legging of his uniform was obvious that he had a compound fracture in his left leg. "What ship did we serve on and where are we?" Zabok asked him.
"You really must have taken a bump in the head, Zabok," Tyler laughed. A tear of pain ran down his cheek. "What you see around you is the remains of the U.S.S. Rosetta. As far as where we are your guess is as good as mine. Probably better if the legend holds true that your engineering abilities aren't as bad as your bluffing abilities," Tyler laughed.
"What do you mean, Mr. Tyler?" Zabok asked.
Tyler laughed and coughed up a bit of blood. "You worked on the coaxial warp drive; you knew it's instabilities as well as I did. We could be anywhere in the universe right now."
"Coaxial warp drive?" zabok questioned.
Tyler coughed up a bit more blood, pointed into the sky, and asked, "What is that?"
* * * ...to be continued
(Special thanks to sad and nix for making me believe that I should write again...even if I am no good at it!)
Okay this is the full chapter and not just the teaser....enjoy.....puke.....do what you want to do....but feedback is always welcome.....bad or good......
Star Trek: Dreamweaver
By
Mojo2722
"I understand what Starfleet's orders were and until my dying day will follow whatever command they give me no matter how fool hardy with all of my ability," the Captain paced behind the desk of his ready room, "What I do not understand is why they sent you here."
From her seat across the desk from him she smiled and replied, "I am a prototype series ten holographic recreational design hologram. I have been created with the hope that I will be able to create recreational holodeck experiences that will relax your crew enough to increase over-all ship performance."
The captain slammed his hands and braced his arms against the table, "I don't care if you were born of that glorified-head-of-Starfleet-medical- EMH's egoistical behind!"
She drew back in the chair and clenched her fingers around the ends of the armrest. "Starfleet meant no harm by sending me here to conduct my experiments and trials."
The captain eased back and clenched the small of his nose between his thumb and his forefinger. He turned to the viewport that overlooked the stars flying by at warp and responded, "I understand that. I wouldn't be a Starfleet officer if I didn't take that one thing to be gospel. The simple fact that the brass don't try intentionally do things that would harm the people in the field."
She eased up on her grip of the armrest and asked, "Then why do you hold such hostility for me being assigned to your ship, Captain?"
He turned and walked over to the replicator. After having ordered a cup of chai tea, and taking a few sips of it did he respond, "It's simple really." He walked back to his chair and sat down. He sat the cup of chai down and coldly explained, "You are not real."
She stood up and laughed, "I am not real?"
He had a warm smile as he enjoyed the hot chai, and an icy gaze when he responded, "No you are not. You are a hologram."
She spiraled behind the chair and grasped the back of it. She looked down at him and said, "The Holo-lifeform act of stardate..."
"States that you have all rights that a physically born life form has. I know the act," he calmly cut her off. He took another sip of his chai, stared at the froth for a second, and continued, "Just because the computer calls this chai tea, doesn't by any means make it real. It is real in the sense that it is here, but it will never be chai tea."
Her brows clenched and then she asked, "So you are saying just because I am made of force fields and photons and not flesh and blood that I am not real?"
He set his cup down, picked up a padd, and began to scroll through the days reports. "I am saying that you are not a real person in my eyes and never will be one. I may have to accept you and treat you as an equal due to the Holo-lifeform Act and your assignment here, but don't think for a minute that I feel you are even an equal to the worms used to loosen the soil in the arboretum," he answered not bothering to look up from the report.
She shook her head. Her program had only been online and fully functional for a few months. She herself had only really interacted with the technicians at Jupiter Station, and they all seemed to get along well with sentient holograms. The Captain's reaction just now would make only the third encounter she had ever had with people who were prejudiced against sentient holograms. She reached down and picked up her small suitcase. She opened it's lid and quickly retrieved a hand padd. She tossed it to the Captain.
Surprised he dropped the padd with the reports on it, and caught the smaller hand padd that she had tossed. He quickly oriented it in his hands and began to skim the contents, "So what is this?"
"My orders, and orders for you regarding my mission here and what is expected of you by starfleet," She responded. She turned towards the door to the ready room and began to walk towards it.
The Captain stood up, "I didn't give you permission to leave, Crewman."
"According to you I am not real so I don't think it really matters," she commented. The doors to the ready room slid open, "If you need me I will be on deck 11 installing some new holodeck programs. I would suggest you read carefully just how much power Starfleet Command has endowed me with to ensure the success of my mission."
She stepped out onto the bridge and made her way to the turbolift, ignoring the fuming rants of the Captain that trailed off behind her.Within the span of a few minutes she was on deck 11 and was at the controls of holodeck 2.
"Computer, have the files for Crewman Monet been transferred from Starbase 202 yet?" she asked.
The computer droned back, "Specified files have completed transfer."
"Well that's one thing that is going right today," She remarked. She quickly worked the controls of the holodeck and asked, "Computer, what program is currently being run in the holodeck?"
The computer responded, "Program Zabok Three is currently running in holodeck 2."
"Zabok Three, huh? Sounds like fun," she commented. She quickly tapped the keys of the holodeck controls and turned towards the door. The doors moaned open to reveal a wooded scene.
She walked into the woods the doors to the holodeck moaning shut and dematerializing behind her. The sound of the birds in the canopy seemed to echo around the streams of sunlight that managed to hit the forest floor. The forest before her curved down and finally dished out into a small pond at the bottom. Standing on the banks of the pond was a solo figure dressed in a Starfleet uniform. She made her way down the hill through the trees and when she was within 15 meters of what was obviously a male Vulcan standing with his back to her she called out, "Hello there."
The man motioned with his hand for her to go away. He held in his other hand a fishing rod.
She was within three meters of him when she asked, "Well I am not going away, why not introduce yourself?"
"Shhh," he whispered, "Ol' Pete will here you and get spooked."
His voice was not proper like the information she had been programmed with about typical Vulcans, at least the ones that followed in the teachings of Surak that was. As she came up to his side she asked, "Who's Old Pete?"
He quietly explained, "Ol' Pete is the level 14 adversary of this program and one stubborn flathead catfish that I have spent over 93 hours of off duty time trying to catch. Who may I ask are you?"
"I'm Crewman Monet. I just got transferred here from service aboard the Jupiter Station in the Terran Sector," She replied.
Slowly clicking the reel in he cooly responded, "I am Lt. Zabok, it was nice meeting you Crewman Monet, but my holodeck time I prefer to spend by myself. If you will excuse me I have a fish to catch."
"So did Ishmael and look where it got him," she said with a smile.
He concentrated on the slight vibration at the end of the pole, smiled, and commented, "Moby Dick was a whale and therefore a mammal. A better analogy would have been Captain Quint who commanded the Orca in the 20th century video play 'Jaws'. Am I to assume that you think my obsession with capturing Ol' Pete will result in him eating me?"
She watched as the end of the rod bent downward slightly, the obvious sign of a fish nibbling and trying to take the bait from the hook. She answered, "No I don't think he will eat you. It's just programs like this challenge skill but they do nothing to challenge the mind."
He muffled a laugh, "It took me over 12 hours to conceive of a bait that I thought Ol' Pete would take a liking to. What do you mean this sort of program doesn't challenge the mind?"
"You know the outcome. Eventually with enough trial and error you will catch Old Pete and advance to the next level," she explained.
Carefully studying the gentle bending of the pole he remarked, "I suppose you have a better idea to challange both skill and the mind?"
"Well I have been sent here by Starfleet Command to test my abilities in holographic design. I have been my subroutines were programmed by some of the brightest holographic engineers in Starfleet and it's hoped the programs I come up with will be able to increase crew performance on long duration missions like this ship is on," She replied.
He turned his head towards her and raised an eyebrow. "Programmed?" he asked.
She smiled and explained, "I am a prototype Series Ten Holographic Recreational Design Hologram. The engineers on Jupiter Station spent over 60,000 man-hours in my creation."
The tip of his pole bent down sharply. Lt. Zabok let out a bit of line from the reel causing the tip of the pole to relax back straight. "60,000 hours is quite impressive."
She stepped closer to the bank and looked down where the line from the rod plunged into the murky depths of the pond, "You don't have a problem with working with holograms do you, Lieutenant?"
The tip of the pole stopped moving. Lt. Zabok cautiously began to reel the line in slowly a few inches at a time. "Not at all," He answered, "Three weeks ago I attended a conference on Starbase 183 on holo-novel writing techniques. I am quite comfortable working with holograms."
"That's good to hear."
The tip of the pole jerked violently. Lt. Zabok pulled back on the rod and began to reel furiously. "It would appear this isn't Ol' Pete's lucky day." He continued to fight with the flathead catfish who was struggling in the depths of the pond on the other side of the line.
The line snapped.
Lt. Zabok flew backwards onto the ground the rod flying out of his hand. Crewman Monet walked over to him, extended a hand down to help him up and consoled, "Tough luck. You almost had him."
He grasped her hand and climbed to his feet. "I am beginning to think it's going to take an explosive device to bring Ol' Pete to the surface. Looks like I programmed him with just a bit too much guile," he remarked, "So what were you talking about when you mentioned raising crew morale?"
She let go of his hand. "It's simple really," she explained, "Cataloging nebula and studying composition of asteroids in deep space day after day without a change of pace can have the result of demoralizing the crew and thereby decreasing crew performance. This ship's efficiency rating was unsatisfactory at last inspection, and is the key reason it was selected for me to be assigned to. I have several programs that I have written that I need to test. One of them is nearly complete, it just needs a bit of fine tuning in order to be ready."
He picked up his fishing rod and inspected it for damage. He asked, "What sort of program is it? A training program?"
She called out for an arch and as the control interface materialized in the clearing behind them answered, "No it is a recreational program designed to boost morale." She tapped away at the controls of the arch and asked, "So you have an interest in writing holo-novels and some real world experience in writing holographic subroutines then, Lieutenant?"
He walked over to the arch beside her, "Yes, it's how I've kept sane over the last 3 years of this assignment. When you are assigned to engineering onboard a ship that makes the occasional milk run transporting colonists and spends all of its remaining time studying the composition of already charted gas giants to fill in missing information to the Federation Database you have to do something to keep sharp. If we were studying the unknown perhaps there would be more of a demand on the engineering staff. However as it stands I have spent the majority of my on-duty time over the last 3 years in the Jefferies Tubes preforming redundant preventative maintenance."
The pond and the forest faded as the program ended and the grid of the holoemitters lining the walls of the holodeck reappeared. "Good. I could use the help of a qualified engineer. How would you like a change of assignment?"
He arched a brow and asked, "Crewman?"
She explained, "I have the token rank of Crewman onboard this ship. However, on deck 11 I have full autonomy and control of what happens in regards to the holodecks and the personnel that I require to make my mission work. I can only imagine that the Captain is having an aneurism right now as he reads exactly how far reaching my powers are when it comes to my assignment."
Intrigued by her offer he cautiously asked, "What would I be able to help you with?"
"Well this for starters," she responded. She tapped away at the holodeck controls and the room around them took on the form of a new setting as a new holodeck program began to run. The were standing in the middle of a field of tall grass atop a hill. Two small moons loomed overhead. In the distance smoldering chunks of twisted metal beams and various debris dotted the valley before them.
With his fishing pole in hand Lt. Zabok scanned the panorama of the scene and asked, "Where are we?"
Crewman Monet opened her small suitcase and pulled out what appeared to be a device similar to a medical tricorder. She pulled the cylindrical probe out of the base unit and in the same motion unfolded the display screen of the palm sized device. She began to walk down the hill scanning objects as she went. "That is the question most people will be asking when this program goes online."
Lt. Zabok followed her down the hill, "That really doesn't answer my question, Crewman."
"Monet," she commented.
He grunted, "Okay then, Crewman Monet."
She smiled as they came up to a personal escape pod. "I don't' think you understand," she explained. She scanned the pod with the tricorder. She continued, "By the power vested in me by Starfleet Command deck 11 is mine. So I expect my assistants to just call me by my name, Monet. There is no need for rank designations on my team."
"I see," he replied, "But I still would like to know where exactly this is."
"Maybe you should ask the person in the escape pod," she answered. She stepped back and closed the tricorder.
Lt. Zabok approached the escape pod. It was partially buried in the ground from the impact and sparks were flying off of the controls to open the hatch. He reached out and began to tap the emergency open commands into the controls. A bolt of discharging energy shot through his arm causing him to withdraw his arm and wince in pain. Exacerbating his pain verbally he turned to Monet and asked, "The holodeck safety protocols appear to be offline enough to deliver pain. How exactly do you propose I get the hatch open without shocking myself?"
"I don't know, Zabok," she replied, "However in about 2 minutes the person in there is going to asphyxiate due to the fact life support to this escape pod was lost upon impact with the ground.
He turned back to the escape pod and reexamined the situation. He needed to key in the final three command codes into the controls to get the hatch to open. The only way he knew of doing it from the outside was by using the control panel, however if he touched the control panel he would be delivered with a shocking pain that would not be pleasant.
He needed to isolate himself from the electrical discharge. He needed an insulator. Zabok's eyes darted around the area of the escape pod trying to find a piece of non-conductive material that may have landed in the debris along with the escape pod to no avail. He searched farther around the escape pod trying to find that one key item that most holo- novelists left behind to solve the situation.
No luck.
He turned back to Monet and groaned, "I just want to know where the setting of this holodeck program is supposed to be!"
Monet calmly droned, "30 seconds."
In a last ditch effort to find the object that would allow him to solve the problem he started to throw his fishing rod to the side only to catch it with his free hand. He fumbled with it and turned it upside down so the reel end of the rod was facing up. "Rubber," he smiled looking at the butt tip of the rod. He quickly moved back over to the controls of the escape pod and used the rubber ended butt of the rod to key in the last command codes.
The hatch blew open and a fair haired human male sat up gasping for breath. Several seconds later the human said, "Thank God!" He gasped a few more deep breaths and continued, "You saved me Zabok, a few more seconds in that coffin and I would have died!"
Zabok dropped the rod and reached out to help him out of the escape pod. "Who are you?" Zabok asked.
Stepping out of the escape pod with Zabok's aid the man replied, "Your pod must have landed head first. It's me Tyler! The guy you owe 20 credits to due to your poor choice of wagering at last weeks poker game. The man noticed Monet and spoke up, "It's nice to see you made it, Monet."
"Likewise," she smiled
Zabok laid Tyler to the ground kneeling beside him to check his vitals by hand. The blood stain and corresponding bump protruding in the legging of his uniform was obvious that he had a compound fracture in his left leg. "What ship did we serve on and where are we?" Zabok asked him.
"You really must have taken a bump in the head, Zabok," Tyler laughed. A tear of pain ran down his cheek. "What you see around you is the remains of the U.S.S. Rosetta. As far as where we are your guess is as good as mine. Probably better if the legend holds true that your engineering abilities aren't as bad as your bluffing abilities," Tyler laughed.
"What do you mean, Mr. Tyler?" Zabok asked.
Tyler laughed and coughed up a bit of blood. "You worked on the coaxial warp drive; you knew it's instabilities as well as I did. We could be anywhere in the universe right now."
"Coaxial warp drive?" zabok questioned.
Tyler coughed up a bit more blood, pointed into the sky, and asked, "What is that?"
* * * ...to be continued
(Special thanks to sad and nix for making me believe that I should write again...even if I am no good at it!)