Dr. Strangeborg
Or, how I learned to stop drinking and travel faster than light
Disclaimer: It has been years since I wrote a story. Considering that this is my leap back into writing, a little constructive criticism is more than welcome.
Prelude: Or, making you wait, but within my authority as author.
It was dark for a moment, but Picard knew where he was.
As if some kind of switch had turned him on, he immediately gained knowledge of his surroundings. He was among the Borg again. The unwelcoming atmosphere, the cold wires and machines, and the drones, the countless servants of the Hive filled the cube. He could hardly remember his last time here, but it all came back to him in a flash. His old buddies, 6 of 9, 7 of 11, AS of CII, and Cop Killa, all were among him. The cold atmosphere was punctured by the sounds of millions of voices, all communicating at once. The mass communication still bewildered him.
"We are the Borg. Lower your weapons---" "We are striving toward a state of perfection---" "I told the bitch, that phaser followed me home! ---"
He was home again.
Chapter 1: They are the Borg.
Picard awoke. Violently. Slamming his head on the low ceiling, he cursed Federation architecture as he straggled his way to the sink. The dream wasn't crazy, it was familiar. Too familiar. He had buried his past, and put it behind him.
The water was cold. It always was. Engineering had yet to fix the boiler, or else the whole engineering crew would have their ass on a Bat'leth.
Something felt wrong. The side of his face began to throb violently. He started wishing the water had numbed his face. And he was hoping the engineering crew didn't get around to fixing that boiler. Because just then, something terrifying happened.
**RIP**
"BEEP. This is an automated message. Welcome to the Borg Flower. Because this is a delusion based on the past, our domination of you is based on the honor system. Please proceed to saw off your hand, and place a rusty pair of hedge clippers in its place. Please hold as nanites begin raping your bloodstream."
*~*
Picard awoke again. One last time, less violently. Ignoring the wet spot and smell of rotten eggs emanating from the sheets, he proceeded to prod his cheek where the flower was.
Unexpectedly, Picard's custom-made Alienware laptop started ringing. Yea, it's total pimp juice.
"Picard? Picard!" the screen yelled out.
"WOMAN, I'LL GET UP WHEN I'M DAMN WELL READY!"
"Captain Jean-Luc Picard!"
"Admiral," said Picard, doing his best not to sound more embarrassed than he already was.
"Catch you at a bad time, Jean-Luc?" Admiral Hayes looked like he the Captain to act odd.
"Umm..of..course not." Picard had just finished changing the sheets.
"Good. Because we've just had a disturbing report from Deep Space Twelve. Long range sensors have picked up-"
"Yes I know. The Blog."
"Well, no. The Blog have not been updated for over 3 months. The teenage Goths of North America are still in hibernation. I'm talking about the Borg, Jean-Luc."
"Wait, why tell me this when my job is to stay the hell away and patrol the neutral zone?"
"No reason. Just felt like spiting you. HA!" Admiral Hayes got the last laugh in as the screen shut off, leaving Picard fuming on the other side.
Or, how I learned to stop drinking and travel faster than light
Disclaimer: It has been years since I wrote a story. Considering that this is my leap back into writing, a little constructive criticism is more than welcome.
Prelude: Or, making you wait, but within my authority as author.
It was dark for a moment, but Picard knew where he was.
As if some kind of switch had turned him on, he immediately gained knowledge of his surroundings. He was among the Borg again. The unwelcoming atmosphere, the cold wires and machines, and the drones, the countless servants of the Hive filled the cube. He could hardly remember his last time here, but it all came back to him in a flash. His old buddies, 6 of 9, 7 of 11, AS of CII, and Cop Killa, all were among him. The cold atmosphere was punctured by the sounds of millions of voices, all communicating at once. The mass communication still bewildered him.
"We are the Borg. Lower your weapons---" "We are striving toward a state of perfection---" "I told the bitch, that phaser followed me home! ---"
He was home again.
Chapter 1: They are the Borg.
Picard awoke. Violently. Slamming his head on the low ceiling, he cursed Federation architecture as he straggled his way to the sink. The dream wasn't crazy, it was familiar. Too familiar. He had buried his past, and put it behind him.
The water was cold. It always was. Engineering had yet to fix the boiler, or else the whole engineering crew would have their ass on a Bat'leth.
Something felt wrong. The side of his face began to throb violently. He started wishing the water had numbed his face. And he was hoping the engineering crew didn't get around to fixing that boiler. Because just then, something terrifying happened.
**RIP**
"BEEP. This is an automated message. Welcome to the Borg Flower. Because this is a delusion based on the past, our domination of you is based on the honor system. Please proceed to saw off your hand, and place a rusty pair of hedge clippers in its place. Please hold as nanites begin raping your bloodstream."
*~*
Picard awoke again. One last time, less violently. Ignoring the wet spot and smell of rotten eggs emanating from the sheets, he proceeded to prod his cheek where the flower was.
Unexpectedly, Picard's custom-made Alienware laptop started ringing. Yea, it's total pimp juice.
"Picard? Picard!" the screen yelled out.
"WOMAN, I'LL GET UP WHEN I'M DAMN WELL READY!"
"Captain Jean-Luc Picard!"
"Admiral," said Picard, doing his best not to sound more embarrassed than he already was.
"Catch you at a bad time, Jean-Luc?" Admiral Hayes looked like he the Captain to act odd.
"Umm..of..course not." Picard had just finished changing the sheets.
"Good. Because we've just had a disturbing report from Deep Space Twelve. Long range sensors have picked up-"
"Yes I know. The Blog."
"Well, no. The Blog have not been updated for over 3 months. The teenage Goths of North America are still in hibernation. I'm talking about the Borg, Jean-Luc."
"Wait, why tell me this when my job is to stay the hell away and patrol the neutral zone?"
"No reason. Just felt like spiting you. HA!" Admiral Hayes got the last laugh in as the screen shut off, leaving Picard fuming on the other side.