Discussion in 'Non Star Wars Fan Fiction' started by WarmNyota_SweetAyesha, Jan 16, 2020.
Not at all
A dark-haired percussionist and a red-haired flute player and a petite blonde who juggled 12 balls in each hand took care of the crew members who weren't taken out by the spiked punch. They were in charge of piping the sleeping gas through the ventilation ducts.
They strolled onto the bridge and whisked the snoozing command crew to the brig.
"Ha-ha-ha-ha!" Trayner gloated. "That was too much like taking candy from a baby."
"Oops," said Brannigan, his second, "I have nieces and nephews ... you have no idea how difficult doing that is... a walk in the park is the comparison you're looking for, Boss."
“Trayner sent us here, and what’s here?” queried the dark-haired drummer as they entered the Medbay.
“Two sleeping blue-shirts and easy to lock in their room,” the long-haired woman smiled. “We can seal this office and be gone to the shuttle-bay.” She turned the key sticking outside of the door.
“And that room?” her companion pointed.
“No one can be there. It’s dark. Let’s go before Trayner gets inquisitive.”
“Yeah, the pay is good but he can be a pain in the posterior,” he gave her a light push against her buttocks.
“Lights,” Nick said. His research had revealed that this virus was very benign. Almost no one could get infected. And Spock and Sulu had inhaled a lot getting sick and stuck in medbay for a few days. “I can go out, but first this.” He lifted the lid of the box containing his lunch and began to smile. “It’s delicious, and those cookies. One for Len, one for Christine and one for me. I will join them.”
Carrying the box, he opened the door to meet utter silence. He took a few steps to the office and grabbed the doorknob. The door resisted, and he saw why what and turned the key.
Opening the door, he shouted to the two slumped figures: “Asleep during duty?”
No response had him placing the box on the desk and bending over to McCoy’s face. “I am a doctor and not a wake-up service.” A cookie held under Christine’s nose gave no result either. “I am getting a bad feeling about this.” He reached for a hypospray and programmed a fast working wake-up medicine. A hiss against McCoy’s shoulder and he waited for the almost immediate response.
“Whaa--” McCoy had his arms flying this and that way.
“Easy,” Nick grabbed one arm. “You were sleeping and Christine is.”
“Drugs,” McCoy grumbled. “Christine was first and I followed seconds later.” He activated his computer and became very worried. “Look Nick, that’s a member of Trayner’s crew and that one and hey Sulu is sleeping in the captain’s chair.” He saw another entertainer coming out of the turbolift holding a phaser-rifle.
“The admiral and his party are with the officers in the brig. Jacko and Karl are guarding them. I had to get nasty when that Vulcan objected. But he is alive and cared for by his lover.” “Excellent work, now we have to wait for our way out. The freighter will dock in one hour.”
“We have one hour to get all out of the brigg,” McCoy muttered. “I will wake Christine. Maybe she has ideas.”
“I have one,” Nick pointed at a cover near the ceiling. “That’s leading to crawlducts and if you have seen Die Hard you know.”
“You are planning to go to the brig,” McCoy began to smile despite the situation they were in. “Take a dart-gun or whatever and stun Jacko and Karl.”
“My idea exactly, and I need a map. From here to the brig isn’t far but you can get lost.”
“I will get you one on a tablet,” McCoy fumbled in a cabinet and had soon a map and a dart-gun and the darts in a satchel. “And now up and go.” He helped Nick on his desk and sighed softly when Nick used hands and feet to get on McCoy’s shoulders.
Nick had the cover open. It swung down and he could pull himself up. “And now the map and dart-gun,” he reached down with one arm.
McCoy swung the satchel up and saw Nick and satchel disappearing in the crawlduct.
"How're you doing?" Jim asked Uhura.
“I will be alright soon.) Uhura told the Captain. The wooziness from the drugs was wearing off. Sulu and Chekov and the Admiral were stirring as well.
Admiral Boyce was scowling. "I think this isn't the genuine entertainment troupe. These must be impostors."
"I hope so," Jim said. "Their recent activity will have to be backtracked."
"What was their objective?" asked Spock, looking and sounding fully alert. Uhura gave him a relieved glance noticing this.
"I think it must be the newly rolled-out torpedoes. They're longer range and have the capacity to self-diagnose and adjust any mechanical snaffus." answered the Admiral. "At least that's what the engineering types tell me."
‘The map was essential,’ Nick had that on his mind when he came to a cover and heard voices. Voices that were unheard when he had passed other sections. ‘The entire crew must be asleep.’
“You moron, you have taken his ship. I am asking you for the tenth time. What do you want from me?”
That was an unfamiliar voice. ‘The admiral is quite talkative.’ Nick began to unlock the cover and had a small smile on his face when he saw Chekov looking up. Wordless, he voiced, ‘make noise, make noise.’
“Hey, he was asking you something you son of a deranged cossack.”
“Yeah, turn around so that I can see your ugly face.”
Sulu said: "Can't carry a tune in a bucket, that's what the big cover-up is all about."
Nick saw the two guards turning and headed to the transparant barrier. He waited and took out his dart-gun. One dart flew and a guard gave a soft yelp. His companion started to turn and was hit by the second dart.
Two guards crumbled on the floor.
Nick jumped down and deactivated the barrier.
“Thanks, Lieutenant Roberts,” Kirk grinned.
Nick made a beeline to Spock lying on a cot and started to examine the slight discolouration on the head. He was ready and asked, knowing the answer: "You don't need to go to your friendly country doctor?"
"No, I am needed," Spock stood up
"Handy coming the way you did, has the element of surprise. Let's use that again." Jim said.
He, Spock and Uhura headed towards the bridge.
Sulu and Chekov headed towards the shuttlebay with the Admiral.
The Admiral went to his quarters to compile a report and do some sleuthing about Trayner.
“What are we going to do, Doctor McCoy?”
“Stay here, Marc.”
Nick heard various voices and realized that more of the medical staff was coming around.
Coming to the cover, he swung that down and said, “I am here.”
“Love that duct-crawling?” McCoy – southern drawl prominent – looked up.
“A bit like in those movies and no fighting for me, just the crawling and avoiding obstacles pestering your knees and hands,” Nick – head and hand down – grinned. “I am headed to Ops. Can you give me more hyposprays? I have to get a security-detail to the shuttle-bay.”
“Great,” McCoy collected more hyposprays, set them with a fast-working wake-up medicine and climbed on his desk to give them to Nick. “Here you are, and stay safe. Your hands and knees” McCoy saw the bloody abrasions on the hands “will be cared for by your nice country-doctor when you return.”
“Good to know that there are nice country-doctors here,” Nick disappeared again in the crawlduct and headed to Ops.
‘You have time enough to get the security-detail to the shuttlebay. The freighter will be there; loading the photonic torpedos would require time. Each torpedo has to be handled with care by four men.’ Admiral Boyce had told them.
Nick finally reached Ops and applied the hyposprays.
Kyle Crisson was the first to wake-up and saw who was bending over him. “Hey Nick, what’s up?”
Nick – seeing various guards coming awake – explained in a few words what had happened and ended, “Chekov is waiting for us in the shuttle-bay. He will be in hiding.”
“To get there, we have to use the turbolift,” Kyle stood up and ordered, “Gear up, phasers on stun. We will turn the tables on those so-called entertainers!"
Nick grabbed a phaser-rifle after donning some body-protection and a satchel with emergency-equipment. He hurried with Kyle and his men to the nearest turbo-lift and hoped that the captain had taken back the bridge. He didn’t want to get stuck in a turbolift.
“Chekov, report,” Kyle grinned when he saw the man hiding behind a large stack of crates.
“I have counted 24 followers from that deranged Cossack leader and they are half way loading the torpedos in their freighter. And the freighter has a crew of 12 helping here and I don’t know what’s in the freighter,” Chekov saw the five guards and Nick. “That’s real big.”
“And we have to even the odds,” Kyle grumbled. “Ready?”
“Ouch time,” Jerry fired his phaser, downing the first man.
Phaser-fire erupted, and an intense firefight began.
Nick was firing his phaser-rifle and had downed two men when he heard an anguished cry followed by another. He had to help his friends.
Jim and Spock arrived just in time with 10 Baldovian smoke bombs. They could be used as diversions or as childhood pranks. they made a large bang and created a harmless but obscuring fog.
"Looks like we got here just in time," commented the Captain.
Kyle noticed their arrival and smirked.
“You did even the odds coming from that unexpected direction and throwing those flash-bangs,” Kyle said.
"Those Baldovian smoke boms came in handy," the Captain replied. "They make a loud noise and create a convenient fog."
“I need some help,” Nick shouted. He was pressing a bandage against the abominal area of Barry Carole.
“Captain to the rescue,” Shane Kondic – right hand bleeding and limp – was leaning on the shoulder of Stan Frain.
“Help, Nick,” Kyle ordered.
Two guards – directed by Nick – managed to get Barry on a grav-stretcher.
“And now to the medbay,” Nick began to guide the grav-stretcher to the turbolift. He had to hurry. Barry had taken a hit in the gut and was barely stable.
“Nick, you cannot work with that,” McCoy – dressed in scrubs – said when he saw Nick and the two guards putting Barry Carole on the table in the OT.
“I can,” Nick began to don surgical gloves, wincing a bit when the abrasions began to bleed again. “I am just the sleep-doctor. You have to patch him up.” With that said he donned another set of gloves and began to do his work.
“I will patch you up after we are done,” McCoy took his place at the table.
Admiral Boyce reported on the fact that the genuine entertainment troupe had been grounded due to technical problems with their transport.
"So these were impostors, banking on the fact that no one would be able to tell the difference between the genuine entertainers. They picked members of their group who resembled the entertainers closely."
McCoy was waiting. He had seen Nick headed to the scrubroom after delivering his patient to the ward and heard the soft moans coming from the changing cubicle. The door opened and he grabbed one arm “got you Nick. And now some work on those knees and hands.” He steered him resolutely to an examination-table and ordered “get down, Mister police-officer.”
“Police-officer,” Nick grumbled and did what the doctor ordered.
“Yes, you and your duct-crawling,” McCoy began to clean the knees. “You have as many scrapes and bruises as that guy. You will be stiff and sore for a while but as I tell to almost all my patients, you will recover.” After covering the cuts and abrasions with spray-skin and bandages he continued with the hands and heard a soft rumble. Finished with wrapping the hands in bandages he grinned “a good meal will speed up your recovery. Come let’s go to Florian.”
“Great idea,” Nick stood up with the help from McCoy and followed him to the restaurant.
Discarded glasses some half-full with punch, broken glasses and pastries, sandwiches, various chocolates and other delicacies now all ruined were dotting the floor, chairs and tables. Empty guitar-cases and more instruments were on the podium. And what was most remarkable was the silence.
“No, Florian, or a cleaning crew,” McCoy was the first to enter.
“And no edible things I presume,” Nick followed and halted for the counter. “Now we have to use the food-processor and head that way.”
Tap, ti, tap, tap.
Nick started to turn back from the counter and shouted “what’s that?”
Tap, tap, tap, beng.
“That’s coming from there,” Nick grumbled when his legs protested when he began to walk slowly to the store-room.
McCoy passed him and opened the door.
“Hey McCoy to the rescue,” Florian barreled out of the store-room and collided almost with Nick. He looked this and that way observing the mess in his restaurant. “And where is that Trayner-pest that hit me unconscious?”
“Cared for by the captain and security,” McCoy drawled “after Nick here had his moments in the crawlducts. And I can see you have no nice dinner for us.”
“Just wait a moment,” Florian disappeared in the store-room, rummaged on the shelves and cupboards and came back after some time with two trays, each with a bowl of soup, a sandwich and citrus-mango yelly as dessert. He brought that to McCoy and Nick now seated at one of the tables. “Enjoy your meal.”
Jim, Spock, and Uhura arrived. "Let's help clean up, also." Uhura said.
Afterwards, they enjoyed sandwiches and puff-pastries.
Then course was set for the Starbase to drop off the erstwhile entertainers and deliver the torpedoes successfully.
More trouble that Nick is getting into.
Christine Chapel had had enough of the bureaucracy. She had very little patient contact. Only a month after taking the prestigious position she resigned.
She contacted the Enterprise and asked half-jokingly: "Can I have my job back?"
The Captain pretended to consider, then winked. "Of course."
"I'm sorry--the paperwork." Christine said. "But thank you so much."
He grinned. "Hey, I have the easy part. It's the guys higher up that'll have the hard part of it."
"Can I ask another favor? Don't tell McCoy. I want it to be a surprise."
McCoy's reaction was everything Christine could have hoped. He scooped her up in a most unprofessional fashion and spun her around.
She laughed. "I didn't know you missed me that much."
He laughed. "Neither did I until you were gone. Now you're back I'm not going to forget how valuable you are as a colleague and a friend."
Like the romance between McCoy and Christine here.
And she is back for more fun with the medical department