Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
(seen from one of the holodecks)
"What!? I need to practice for in case of eventualities!"
At last! Boredom made from this spaceship another Westworld!
Good chapter, Jolly!
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Crux Trek - A Taste Of Crucifixion
- Thread starter Jollyrei
- Start date
(seen from one of the holodecks)
"What!? I need to practice for in case of eventualities!"
At last! Boredom made from this spaceship another Westworld!
Good chapter, Jolly!
What???Yeah, yeah Moore. One lucky break doesn't a genius make.
That's an odd pose, Moore. It's like you're talking on a cell phone, but there's no phone in your hand. Have they miniaturized them down to almost invisible? Is it implanted in your head? But I suppose if they've made a transporter that can take the "kinis" right off your tight little, who knows what they will have done with phones?
No!!!
Windar!!
That's her pre demerits strike pose! RUN!
Yeah, yeah Moore. One lucky break doesn't a genius make.
That's an odd pose, Moore. It's like you're talking on a cell phone, but there's no phone in your hand. Have they miniaturized them down to almost invisible? Is it implanted in your head? But I suppose if they've made a transporter that can take the "kinis" right off your tight little, who knows what they will have done with phones?
Smart ass!!!!!!! 
Apart from Wragg. (Demerits, don't you know?
)And.....?
Oh, Jolly
I'd like to have heard that story!
I came up with the line '"What's crucifixion?" asked Phlebas', once.
You just trumped that, Jollyrei! I accept defeat, gladly!
And.....?
Just give me a little while to recover, there's a good chap!
windar
Teller of Tales
Too late, I'm afraid...What???
No!!!
Windar!!
That's her pre demerits strike pose! RUN!
Yes, well my ass is certainly smarting...
Barb, forget the stolen kinis. To life without is very more healty as with. Here 11 good reasons:
https://www.bustle.com/articles/177...-not-wearing-underwear-according-to-an-expert
I hope that this information you will soothed.
https://www.bustle.com/articles/177...-not-wearing-underwear-according-to-an-expert
I hope that this information you will soothed.
There we are. A practical and scientific rationale for not worrying when one's underwear goes missing. Don't catch cold.
You know, Terry Pratchett once said that writing was the most fun you could have in a room by yourself. I don't even have to worry about that. You're never by yourself, writing at CF. It always adds to the fun of a story for me.
messaline
Crucified Amazon
I could revise my opinion, I suppose.View attachment 546833 Hum, are you sure of that, Jolly ?
View attachment 546834
Repertor
Artifex Imaginum
I'd like to have heard that story!
I should learn to be more discrete or I'll burn my tongue. 
Where is my padlock?
Last edited:
Oh dear. Well you really might not like the next section. Or maybe you might. It's really a matter of the right attitude, I find. Anyway, no messages to Starfleet - we don't need to draw attention to the fact that Capt. Wragg has broken regulations by flying into the Neutral Zone. Radio silence, I think, eh?View attachment 547014 Alright. Enough is enough.
I fail to see the humor in this!
I am pissed off and am going to complain to StarFleet command!
Women still wearing bras in the future, are they? How unfortunate.
Chapter 3:
Captain’s Log, Stardate 34-24-30 a tight little stardate if ever there was one. We are approaching the Planet Crux Primus VII, which is in the middle of an interplanetary war with forces from the Dark Zone. We do not know the nature of the conflict, or the weapons used, but the Dark Zone must have some pretty serious stuff, because there’s a whole Neutral Zone between it and the Federation. Now we are arriving in the Neutral Zone, which Lt. Commander Eulalia informs me is bad. Our mission is to see what sort of aid we can give to the Crux Free States here, and get out again before the Dark Zone forces notice we’re here. Lt. Phlebas keeps talking about the Prime Directive, for some reason.
“So all that holodeck stuff has been sorted out, has it?” asked Wragg.
“I think so, sir,” said Jollyrei. “I’ve assigned Messaline and RacingRodent to simulate crucifixions, as a method for determining scientifically what’s going on down on the planet.”
“You don’t think that’s just playing into some sort of fantasy interest of Messaline’s?” Wragg asked. “I mean, what really are we going to learn beyond the fact that people die when they’re crucified?”
“No idea sir,” said Jollyrei. “That’s why I think a scientific study…”
“Not really a scientist, are you Mr. Jollyrei?” asked Wragg. “Best leave that inquiry stuff to chaps like Eulalia and Bobinder in future, eh?”
“Yes, they were certainly learning a few things about the application of a Tricorder in the sick bay earlier today,” said Repertor.
“More of a man of action myself,” said Jollyrei. Barb rolled her eyes.
“If you call drunken transporter tricks with kinis ‘action’,” she muttered.
“Ah, Ensign Moore,” said Wragg. “I trust that the, er, issues with your, um, uniform were satisfactorily addressed.”
“For the moment, sir,” said Barb. “I may be bringing complaints…”
“Well, you are the complaints officer,” said Wragg. “Type them up in the usual way and we’ll deal with them in due course. Not now. We have a bit of a situation going on.”
“We are arriving in the Crux system, Captain,” said Hondoboot.
“Take us out of warp then, Mr. Loxuru,” said Wragg. “Half impulse power, and get us into orbit around Crux Primus VII.”
“Right, sir,” said Loxuru. “Half impulse.”
The streaking stars on the VisiScreen™ slowed rapidly and became stationary points of light that took up about three quarters of the sky. Beyond that, the sky was a sort of murky black colour.
“What’s the murky black area there?” asked Barb. “Doesn’t look too inviting.”
“That would be the Dark Zone,” said Eulalia.
The growing sphere of the planet was situated on the very edge of its solar system, with the black area just beyond it.
“Wow,” said Phlebas. “They aren’t half close to it, are they?”
“I can never figure that out,” said Barb. “Does that mean they are or are not close?”
“They are,” said Phlebas. “If I had meant they weren’t, I would have said they aren’t.”
“You said “they aren’t half”,” said Barb.
“Right,” said Phlebas, “so they are.”
“Now that we’ve got elementary grammar out of the way,” said Jollyrei, “can we address the issue that since we are very close to the Dark Zone here, we should…”
“Put up shields,” said Repertor.
“Well done, that man,” said Wragg.
“Can nobody speak American English around here?” asked Barb.
Repertor’s hands danced over the controls and the defense screens showed a representation of the force field shields going up around the ship. There was a soft reassuring humming noise that accompanied this.
“Don’t you worry yor little head ‘bout nothin’,” he said. “I got them shields right up thar, little lady. Is that better?” Barb glared at him.
“Open a hailing frequency to the Archon,” said Wragg. Barb’s fingers flashed over her control panel and the image of Archon Rommarius appeared on screen.
“Ah, Archon, old boy,” said Wragg. “Captain Wragg here on the Cunnilingus. We’re just coming into orbit.”
“Thank goodness you’ve arrived at last,” said Rommarius. “We’ve been under a barrage from the Dark Zone all morning. So far, our shields are holding.” The scene was of a control centre, full of screens and control panels. Several Cruxians, or Primians, or whatever you call them, were feverishly monitoring things, pressing buttons, and moving joysticks. The screens occasionally showed streaks of green light, as if a laser, photon, or missile attack was incoming.
“I would stay away from the planet for the moment,” said the Archon. “It’s not safe to orbit. We will signal you when we have repulsed the attack and things are secure. My apologies for this, Captain.” The screen flashed off again and showed a tranquil stellar scene, with an ominous but quiet black Dark Zone beyond the growing mass of the planet.
“Does that look like a war zone to you?” asked Phlebas hesitantly.
“Um, Eulalia,” said Wragg, exchanging a meaningful look with Jollyrei, “would you just show us what’s actually going on outside around this planet?”
“Taking special care to highlight any incoming photon torpedoes, missiles, heavy battle cruisers, and so forth…” said Jollyrei.
“Right,” said Wragg. “We’d want to see those.”
The outside view of the planet, green, blue, pink, and yellow (as these TV planets tend to be) was magnified and enhanced by Eulalia’s expertise with the scanning console. There were no explosions, no telltale streaks of photon or plasma weaponry. There were no rocket engines. There were no shimmering bits of space that might indicate a cloaked ship. In fact, it all looked like a lazy Sunday afternoon in space.
“Well,” said Phlebas, after a few seconds of silence.
“Are you registering any sort of attack at all?” asked Wragg.
“No sir,” said Repertor, flipping through his tactical analysis screens. “There isn’t anything out here attacking them.”
“However,” said Eulalia, “there is a lot of sub-etha traffic from the planet.”
“Like communications?” asked Barb. “I’m getting nothing on my station on any known comm frequencies.”
“No,” said Eulalia. “More like raw data streams, as if the computers on the planet were running a joint program with computers somewhere else.”
“And,” said Phlebas, “I have a feeling I won’t like the answer, but where would this traffic be going to?”
“The Dark Zone,” said Eulalia.
“Thought so,” said Phlebas.
“That does not make sense,” said Hondoboot. “If you fight a war with someone, you likely do not exchange computer data with them.”
“It is considered impolite to bomb people while you’re exchanging data,” said Jollyrei.
“I want answers,” said Wragg. “What the hell is going on here? Where’s the crisis?”
The lift doors opened and Commander Rodent scampered onto the bridge. “Hey,” he said, “nice planet. Where’s the war?”
“Did you notice anything strange as we came out of warp?” asked Wragg.
“Nope,” said RacingRodent taking his place perched in a small customized seat attached to the engineering console. From there he could jump out and run onto any part of his console he wanted to reach. There was even a built in receptacle for a bowl of assorted nuts. “I was expecting some sort of warp interference, and Malins was all set to run defensive compensation sequences, but it’s as quiet as the bedroom of a virgin 100 miles in the wilderness.”
“I don’t know,” said Barb. “When I was a virgin, I would…um…” all eyes turned her way.
“Never mind,” she said.
“Nicely colourful metaphor, though,” said Jollyrei.
“I thought so,” said RacingRodent.
“I think what the Ensign is suggesting,” said Eulalia tactfully, “is that one hypothesis is that the Cruxians are doing this to themselves.”
“Really,” said Wragg. “Is that what she was going to say? I suppose it’s a possibility.”
“Actually,” said Hondoboot, “I believe she was going to comment on her personal nocturnal activities, which it seems include…”
“We are getting off topic again,” said Jollyrei. “Seems to be a real problem on this ship. Anyway, I don’t think we’re going to find out what’s happening from up here. There’s clearly no attack going on, but the Cruxians say there is. They are either ridiculously bad at deception, or there is something else that we are not seeing.”
“Quite so, Number 1,” said Wragg.
“What?” said Jollyrei.
“I said, quite so,” said Wragg.
“No, after that.”
“Number 1?” asked Wragg. “I called you Number 1 because you are the First Officer.”
“I see,” said Jollyrei. “Are you going to call me that a lot?”
“Even if he’s First Officer,” said Loxuru, “that makes him second in command. He should be Number 2.”
“I’m not a number,” said Repertor. “I am a free man.”
“We are all free men,” said RacingRodent. “Except I’m a hyperintelligent squirrel.”
“And Eulalia,” said Phlebas. “She’s a science slave. Legally she’s part of the ship.”
There was another moment of silence while all this was considered.
“Are we all quite done with the philosophical analysis?” asked Wragg. There were a few murmurs of assent.
“Then I suggest we put together an away team as soon as we get orbit clearance from the planet, and we go down there and sort out whatever this is.”
“Might I just point out again,” said Phlebas, “that the Prime Directive says we must not interfere in the normal planetary development of foreign cultures. They clearly have no war going, so there’s no real distress, at least nothing they aren’t creating for themselves. That sounds pretty cultural, and we should probably not interfere. Maybe, we should turn back, given that we are already illegally in the Neutral Zone.”
“Nonsense man!” said Wragg. “These people have dragged us halfway across the galaxy on what seems to be a rather flimsy excuse for a war. I want answers and I’m going to get them.”
“As you say sir,” said Phlebas. “I just wanted it on the record.”
“Noted,” said Wragg. Archon Rommarius suddenly appeared again on the screen.
“Hello again Captain,” said Rommarius appearing on the VisiScreen™. “We have successfully repulsed the Dark Zone attack, and launched a pretty heavy counterattack. That should keep them busy a while. We only lost 20,000 people this time. There is some rejoicing going on here, I can tell you, although not among the families who lost loved ones, of course. You may come into geosynchronous orbit over these coordinates.”
Hondoboot nodded to indicate that he had received the coordinates.
“Thank you Archon,” said Wragg. “We are looking forward to meeting you and finding out what is going on.”
“Absolutely, Captain,” said Rommarius. “My daughter and I are hosting a reception this evening. I just need to ensure that the necessary crucifixions and other measures are taken care of, but that’s fairly routine, if unfortunate. I would be happy to host you and your officers just after sunset at the Archon’s Palace.”
“We will look forward to it,” said Wragg. The screen flashed off and back to the exterior view.
“Just take us into orbit, would you, Mr. Loxuru, there’s a good chap,” said Wragg.
“He’s going to see to a few crucifixions and then host a party?” asked Barb.
“Apparently so,” said Phlebas. “Interesting man.”
“Must have a high crime rate down there,” said RacingRodent, “what with all those executions. Only stands to reason, really, since crime rates rise during the chaos of war.”
“There isn’t any chaos of war,” said Repertor. “I’m the weapons guy. I’d have noticed.”
“Yes,” said the squirrel. “That’s my point. It’s all pretty weird down there.”
“So what do we do next?” asked Jollyrei.
“Well,” said Wragg. “RacingRodent, Malins, Repertor, and Phlebas are beaming down to the planet surreptitiously to look around. Try to find their main control centre. I want to know what their computers are up to.
“I would like to lead the away team,” said Jollyrei.
“You, Mr. Jollyrei, are staying here in command of the ship, with Ensign Moore.”
“Hey!” said Barb, “why do I have to stay on board here with Commander Panty Raid.”
“Commander who?” asked Wragg. “Really Ms. Moore, you need to address senior officers more appropriately. I need a command officer on board, and communications working, so the two of you are going to be here on the bridge. Can’t leave a whole spaceship unmanned now, can we?”
“Where will you be?” asked Barb.
“Lt. Commander Eualia, Doctor Bobinder, Yeoman Messaline, Lt. Loxuru, Lt. Hondoboot and I will be dressing for dinner and going to a party.” said Wragg. “I am most looking forward to meeting the Archon and his daughter.”
“Especially the daughter,” said Phlebas.
“I can’t imagine what you mean,” said Wragg. “I haven’t even met her. I merely meant…”
“I believe,” said Hondoboot, “that Lt. Phlebas is simply noting that on the past 12 visits to alien worlds on this tour, you have been found in the company of no less than 12 female members of the cultures in question…”
“I can’t help it if girls like me,” said Wragg.
“…one of whom had green skin,” said Hondoboot.
“One would hardly call me speciesist,” said Wragg. “You act like I just go down to planets to meet girls. She might not even be my type.”
“So far,” said Eulalia, “your “type” has included a woman who had three breasts and skin that sparkled.”
“I think I am safe in saying that my relationship with that particular woman was deeply emotional. You all seem to think I’m some kind of shallow lothario who might be swayed by interesting skin tone and three…”
“For heaven’s sake, Captain,” said Eulalia, “she was practically a fire lighter. The sparkles were naturally occurring phosphorus and you suffered burns to a third of your body. Doctor Bobinder had you in a rejuvenation tank for a week.”
“I don’t think we want to dwell on that,” said Wragg. “All indicators are that the Cruxians are not prone to combustion. In any event, this is an intelligence gathering mission. Everyone get ready to beam down. We’ll meet at Transporter Room 4 in an hour.”
“Good to see this mission is shaping up normally,” said Phlebas.
To be continued…
Captain’s Log, Stardate 34-24-30 a tight little stardate if ever there was one. We are approaching the Planet Crux Primus VII, which is in the middle of an interplanetary war with forces from the Dark Zone. We do not know the nature of the conflict, or the weapons used, but the Dark Zone must have some pretty serious stuff, because there’s a whole Neutral Zone between it and the Federation. Now we are arriving in the Neutral Zone, which Lt. Commander Eulalia informs me is bad. Our mission is to see what sort of aid we can give to the Crux Free States here, and get out again before the Dark Zone forces notice we’re here. Lt. Phlebas keeps talking about the Prime Directive, for some reason.
“So all that holodeck stuff has been sorted out, has it?” asked Wragg.
“I think so, sir,” said Jollyrei. “I’ve assigned Messaline and RacingRodent to simulate crucifixions, as a method for determining scientifically what’s going on down on the planet.”
“You don’t think that’s just playing into some sort of fantasy interest of Messaline’s?” Wragg asked. “I mean, what really are we going to learn beyond the fact that people die when they’re crucified?”
“No idea sir,” said Jollyrei. “That’s why I think a scientific study…”
“Not really a scientist, are you Mr. Jollyrei?” asked Wragg. “Best leave that inquiry stuff to chaps like Eulalia and Bobinder in future, eh?”
“Yes, they were certainly learning a few things about the application of a Tricorder in the sick bay earlier today,” said Repertor.
“More of a man of action myself,” said Jollyrei. Barb rolled her eyes.
“If you call drunken transporter tricks with kinis ‘action’,” she muttered.
“Ah, Ensign Moore,” said Wragg. “I trust that the, er, issues with your, um, uniform were satisfactorily addressed.”
“For the moment, sir,” said Barb. “I may be bringing complaints…”
“Well, you are the complaints officer,” said Wragg. “Type them up in the usual way and we’ll deal with them in due course. Not now. We have a bit of a situation going on.”
“We are arriving in the Crux system, Captain,” said Hondoboot.
“Take us out of warp then, Mr. Loxuru,” said Wragg. “Half impulse power, and get us into orbit around Crux Primus VII.”
“Right, sir,” said Loxuru. “Half impulse.”
The streaking stars on the VisiScreen™ slowed rapidly and became stationary points of light that took up about three quarters of the sky. Beyond that, the sky was a sort of murky black colour.
“What’s the murky black area there?” asked Barb. “Doesn’t look too inviting.”
“That would be the Dark Zone,” said Eulalia.
The growing sphere of the planet was situated on the very edge of its solar system, with the black area just beyond it.
“Wow,” said Phlebas. “They aren’t half close to it, are they?”
“I can never figure that out,” said Barb. “Does that mean they are or are not close?”
“They are,” said Phlebas. “If I had meant they weren’t, I would have said they aren’t.”
“You said “they aren’t half”,” said Barb.
“Right,” said Phlebas, “so they are.”
“Now that we’ve got elementary grammar out of the way,” said Jollyrei, “can we address the issue that since we are very close to the Dark Zone here, we should…”
“Put up shields,” said Repertor.
“Well done, that man,” said Wragg.
“Can nobody speak American English around here?” asked Barb.
Repertor’s hands danced over the controls and the defense screens showed a representation of the force field shields going up around the ship. There was a soft reassuring humming noise that accompanied this.
“Don’t you worry yor little head ‘bout nothin’,” he said. “I got them shields right up thar, little lady. Is that better?” Barb glared at him.
“Open a hailing frequency to the Archon,” said Wragg. Barb’s fingers flashed over her control panel and the image of Archon Rommarius appeared on screen.
“Ah, Archon, old boy,” said Wragg. “Captain Wragg here on the Cunnilingus. We’re just coming into orbit.”
“Thank goodness you’ve arrived at last,” said Rommarius. “We’ve been under a barrage from the Dark Zone all morning. So far, our shields are holding.” The scene was of a control centre, full of screens and control panels. Several Cruxians, or Primians, or whatever you call them, were feverishly monitoring things, pressing buttons, and moving joysticks. The screens occasionally showed streaks of green light, as if a laser, photon, or missile attack was incoming.
“I would stay away from the planet for the moment,” said the Archon. “It’s not safe to orbit. We will signal you when we have repulsed the attack and things are secure. My apologies for this, Captain.” The screen flashed off again and showed a tranquil stellar scene, with an ominous but quiet black Dark Zone beyond the growing mass of the planet.
“Does that look like a war zone to you?” asked Phlebas hesitantly.
“Um, Eulalia,” said Wragg, exchanging a meaningful look with Jollyrei, “would you just show us what’s actually going on outside around this planet?”
“Taking special care to highlight any incoming photon torpedoes, missiles, heavy battle cruisers, and so forth…” said Jollyrei.
“Right,” said Wragg. “We’d want to see those.”
The outside view of the planet, green, blue, pink, and yellow (as these TV planets tend to be) was magnified and enhanced by Eulalia’s expertise with the scanning console. There were no explosions, no telltale streaks of photon or plasma weaponry. There were no rocket engines. There were no shimmering bits of space that might indicate a cloaked ship. In fact, it all looked like a lazy Sunday afternoon in space.
“Well,” said Phlebas, after a few seconds of silence.
“Are you registering any sort of attack at all?” asked Wragg.
“No sir,” said Repertor, flipping through his tactical analysis screens. “There isn’t anything out here attacking them.”
“However,” said Eulalia, “there is a lot of sub-etha traffic from the planet.”
“Like communications?” asked Barb. “I’m getting nothing on my station on any known comm frequencies.”
“No,” said Eulalia. “More like raw data streams, as if the computers on the planet were running a joint program with computers somewhere else.”
“And,” said Phlebas, “I have a feeling I won’t like the answer, but where would this traffic be going to?”
“The Dark Zone,” said Eulalia.
“Thought so,” said Phlebas.
“That does not make sense,” said Hondoboot. “If you fight a war with someone, you likely do not exchange computer data with them.”
“It is considered impolite to bomb people while you’re exchanging data,” said Jollyrei.
“I want answers,” said Wragg. “What the hell is going on here? Where’s the crisis?”
The lift doors opened and Commander Rodent scampered onto the bridge. “Hey,” he said, “nice planet. Where’s the war?”
“Did you notice anything strange as we came out of warp?” asked Wragg.
“Nope,” said RacingRodent taking his place perched in a small customized seat attached to the engineering console. From there he could jump out and run onto any part of his console he wanted to reach. There was even a built in receptacle for a bowl of assorted nuts. “I was expecting some sort of warp interference, and Malins was all set to run defensive compensation sequences, but it’s as quiet as the bedroom of a virgin 100 miles in the wilderness.”
“I don’t know,” said Barb. “When I was a virgin, I would…um…” all eyes turned her way.
“Never mind,” she said.
“Nicely colourful metaphor, though,” said Jollyrei.
“I thought so,” said RacingRodent.
“I think what the Ensign is suggesting,” said Eulalia tactfully, “is that one hypothesis is that the Cruxians are doing this to themselves.”
“Really,” said Wragg. “Is that what she was going to say? I suppose it’s a possibility.”
“Actually,” said Hondoboot, “I believe she was going to comment on her personal nocturnal activities, which it seems include…”
“We are getting off topic again,” said Jollyrei. “Seems to be a real problem on this ship. Anyway, I don’t think we’re going to find out what’s happening from up here. There’s clearly no attack going on, but the Cruxians say there is. They are either ridiculously bad at deception, or there is something else that we are not seeing.”
“Quite so, Number 1,” said Wragg.
“What?” said Jollyrei.
“I said, quite so,” said Wragg.
“No, after that.”
“Number 1?” asked Wragg. “I called you Number 1 because you are the First Officer.”
“I see,” said Jollyrei. “Are you going to call me that a lot?”
“Even if he’s First Officer,” said Loxuru, “that makes him second in command. He should be Number 2.”
“I’m not a number,” said Repertor. “I am a free man.”
“We are all free men,” said RacingRodent. “Except I’m a hyperintelligent squirrel.”
“And Eulalia,” said Phlebas. “She’s a science slave. Legally she’s part of the ship.”
There was another moment of silence while all this was considered.
“Are we all quite done with the philosophical analysis?” asked Wragg. There were a few murmurs of assent.
“Then I suggest we put together an away team as soon as we get orbit clearance from the planet, and we go down there and sort out whatever this is.”
“Might I just point out again,” said Phlebas, “that the Prime Directive says we must not interfere in the normal planetary development of foreign cultures. They clearly have no war going, so there’s no real distress, at least nothing they aren’t creating for themselves. That sounds pretty cultural, and we should probably not interfere. Maybe, we should turn back, given that we are already illegally in the Neutral Zone.”
“Nonsense man!” said Wragg. “These people have dragged us halfway across the galaxy on what seems to be a rather flimsy excuse for a war. I want answers and I’m going to get them.”
“As you say sir,” said Phlebas. “I just wanted it on the record.”
“Noted,” said Wragg. Archon Rommarius suddenly appeared again on the screen.
“Hello again Captain,” said Rommarius appearing on the VisiScreen™. “We have successfully repulsed the Dark Zone attack, and launched a pretty heavy counterattack. That should keep them busy a while. We only lost 20,000 people this time. There is some rejoicing going on here, I can tell you, although not among the families who lost loved ones, of course. You may come into geosynchronous orbit over these coordinates.”
Hondoboot nodded to indicate that he had received the coordinates.
“Thank you Archon,” said Wragg. “We are looking forward to meeting you and finding out what is going on.”
“Absolutely, Captain,” said Rommarius. “My daughter and I are hosting a reception this evening. I just need to ensure that the necessary crucifixions and other measures are taken care of, but that’s fairly routine, if unfortunate. I would be happy to host you and your officers just after sunset at the Archon’s Palace.”
“We will look forward to it,” said Wragg. The screen flashed off and back to the exterior view.
“Just take us into orbit, would you, Mr. Loxuru, there’s a good chap,” said Wragg.
“He’s going to see to a few crucifixions and then host a party?” asked Barb.
“Apparently so,” said Phlebas. “Interesting man.”
“Must have a high crime rate down there,” said RacingRodent, “what with all those executions. Only stands to reason, really, since crime rates rise during the chaos of war.”
“There isn’t any chaos of war,” said Repertor. “I’m the weapons guy. I’d have noticed.”
“Yes,” said the squirrel. “That’s my point. It’s all pretty weird down there.”
“So what do we do next?” asked Jollyrei.
“Well,” said Wragg. “RacingRodent, Malins, Repertor, and Phlebas are beaming down to the planet surreptitiously to look around. Try to find their main control centre. I want to know what their computers are up to.
“I would like to lead the away team,” said Jollyrei.
“You, Mr. Jollyrei, are staying here in command of the ship, with Ensign Moore.”
“Hey!” said Barb, “why do I have to stay on board here with Commander Panty Raid.”
“Commander who?” asked Wragg. “Really Ms. Moore, you need to address senior officers more appropriately. I need a command officer on board, and communications working, so the two of you are going to be here on the bridge. Can’t leave a whole spaceship unmanned now, can we?”
“Where will you be?” asked Barb.
“Lt. Commander Eualia, Doctor Bobinder, Yeoman Messaline, Lt. Loxuru, Lt. Hondoboot and I will be dressing for dinner and going to a party.” said Wragg. “I am most looking forward to meeting the Archon and his daughter.”
“Especially the daughter,” said Phlebas.
“I can’t imagine what you mean,” said Wragg. “I haven’t even met her. I merely meant…”
“I believe,” said Hondoboot, “that Lt. Phlebas is simply noting that on the past 12 visits to alien worlds on this tour, you have been found in the company of no less than 12 female members of the cultures in question…”
“I can’t help it if girls like me,” said Wragg.
“…one of whom had green skin,” said Hondoboot.
“One would hardly call me speciesist,” said Wragg. “You act like I just go down to planets to meet girls. She might not even be my type.”
“So far,” said Eulalia, “your “type” has included a woman who had three breasts and skin that sparkled.”
“I think I am safe in saying that my relationship with that particular woman was deeply emotional. You all seem to think I’m some kind of shallow lothario who might be swayed by interesting skin tone and three…”
“For heaven’s sake, Captain,” said Eulalia, “she was practically a fire lighter. The sparkles were naturally occurring phosphorus and you suffered burns to a third of your body. Doctor Bobinder had you in a rejuvenation tank for a week.”
“I don’t think we want to dwell on that,” said Wragg. “All indicators are that the Cruxians are not prone to combustion. In any event, this is an intelligence gathering mission. Everyone get ready to beam down. We’ll meet at Transporter Room 4 in an hour.”
“Good to see this mission is shaping up normally,” said Phlebas.
To be continued…
“Can nobody speak American English around here?” asked Barb.
I fail to see the humor in that line! What’s wrong with my English? It’s youze guys that talk funny, not me!
What? I don’t get to be on the away team? Shit! No fair! I don’t wanna sit up here while you all are partying down there! And what if there’s trouble? I’m damn good with a phaser, you know! You really are making a big mistake not inviting me along!
Pissed off!
I hereby give notice that these complaints will be duly added to the already quite lengthy official complaints communique I am preparing for transmission to Starfleet Command.
messaline
Crucified Amazon
So true !
But, after all, I was so much glad that she could drop her clothes during our last week-end's Holodeck party !No, my dear squirrel, dont show that on the visiscreen !!!
Not to ask for trouble, but if you're really dissatisfied, there is probably a shuttle bay on the ship, and you might even find the keys to a sporty little shuttlecraft...
messaline
Crucified Amazon
Certainly that it does ! But I'm ready to be sacrified to the "Science" Are you sure of that ? Mmmmmmm ! Perhaps OK, but after a so deep orgasm !!!
Oh, of course ! Just for a "a scientific study…"
View attachment 547014 Alright. Enough is enough.
Which one of you jokers thought it would be fun to project these stills from last week's Holodeck party on the visiscreen?
View attachment 547017 View attachment 547015 View attachment 547016
I fail to see the humor in this!
I am pissed off and am going to complain to StarFleet command!
We must be getting close to our destination, I think I can see the Dark Zone . . . . . . . . . .
“Might I just point out again,” said Phlebas, “that the Prime Directive says we must not interfere in the normal planetary development of foreign cultures. They clearly have no war going, so there’s no real distress, at least nothing they aren’t creating for themselves. That sounds pretty cultural, and we should probably not interfere. Maybe, we should turn back, given that we are already illegally in the Neutral Zone.”
On the other hand, I feel that this is a culture that would merit a closer investigation. Very much closer.
“RacingRodent, Malins, Repertor, and Phlebas are beaming down to the planet surreptitiously to look around."
Excellent! I mean, yes sir!
old slave
FELIS RESPICIENS
MEMO TOP SECRET
FROM Admiral O Slave, Starfleet HQ
TO Ensign B Moore, CFS Cunnilingus.
Permission granted to read the Small Print in your Special Mission Pack. The Federation is relying on you to resolve this situation using all possible methods, with absolute discretion and secrecy. May the Force be with you. (What Rear-Admiral F. S. Girl? Wrong show?)
FROM Admiral O Slave, Starfleet HQ
TO Ensign B Moore, CFS Cunnilingus.
Permission granted to read the Small Print in your Special Mission Pack. The Federation is relying on you to resolve this situation using all possible methods, with absolute discretion and secrecy. May the Force be with you. (What Rear-Admiral F. S. Girl? Wrong show?)