"Innocence" - Part III
"I like this place and willingly could waste my time in it" (Shakespeare - As You Like It)
[Risa, 2397]
Commander George Ryan was glad he had taken shore leave on Risa. The climate was fantastic, the food excellent and the sights nothing short of lovely. But the loveliest sight of them all had to be the two young women he saw when he looked across the little pond behind the bungalows. Two Betazoids by the looks of it, one of them with a mass of dark, curly hair, her sky blue skirt flailing around her long legs as she was racing across the grass, obviously participating in one of those ‘piggyback’ races because on her back she carried another young woman. That one was a little shorter, with long and wavy auburn hair, wearing a bright yellow dress that accentuated her curves rather than hiding them, and right now she was whooping with delight and glee. As well she should be, George thought, because they were winning. By several lengths, too.
“Wheeeeeeee and the VALIANT VULCAN - Sorry ‘Kara, HALF - Vulcan did it AGAIN! Gentlemen, I believe the correct phrase is ANTE UP!” Olixinna Tyrax jumped off her beloved cousin’s back and twirled happily while Sakarra gave a small sigh of relief. Not that Lexie was heavy, but having inherited much of a Vulcan’s touch sensitivity wasn’t exactly helpful with such a lively passenger. Still, she couldn’t help but chuckle at the embarrassed faces of her “challengers” as they came trotting across the finish line and ran right into her cousin’s good-humored taunting.
“What did we win anyways?” Sakarra suspiciously eyed the bottle that one of the two Risians who had organized the race was holding.
“You mean other than our contestants’ underwear? Saurian brandy, I think and - oh, there’s the cake!” Olixinna snatched a green-ish looking something from a stunned Risian after smooching him on the cheek and presented it to her cousin with a ceremonial gesture worthy of the Holy Rings of Betazed.
“Under - WHAT? Lexie, you did NOT. Is that pistachio?”
“THEY were the one’s who suggested it. Thought the stakes weren’t high enough or something. Serves them right. And yes it is. You like?”
“Tell you in a second” Sakarra had to fight hard to keep a halfway straight face and turned back to the grinning young Risian who had been robbed of a cake in the most charming way he could ever have imagined “Be a dear and get me a fork or something please”
“Oh, yes, I mean, here…” still grinning and unable to tear his gaze away from the happily bouncing Betazoid who had begun collecting her bounty, he held out two spoons to Sakarra. “Good?” Lexie was triumphantly waving something that probably qualified as underwear on Ferenginar. “Mfmmfff” Sakarra nodded. It was actually rather tasty, a bit too sweet maybe. “Great. I promised Lan I’d see to it you eat right.” she had finished collecting her trophies and came walking over, three utterly enchanted Risian males in tow.
Before Sakarra could ask how a cake could be considered eating right, one of the young men held out his arms towards Olixinna “Would you like me to take your ... things to your room?”
“Oh, yes dear, thank you.” she giggled and handed over the brandy and assorted fabrics.
“Are you ladies free to attend the Luau tonight?” another of the Risians asked with a hopeful smile.
“Lua-what?”
“Luau, Lexie” Sakarra said between spoonfuls. “Terran custom from the Polynesian region, music, drinks, and I think dancing, too.”
“Now just HOW do you know that?”
“You can’t go surfing here without tripping over humans every other wave. And Kahoku happens to be from Hawaii.” she put down the cake, feeling that if she’d eat just one more bite she’d start feeling sick.
“That doesn’t mean I’ll have to get on one of those pieces of wood and meet my untimely demise in Risa’s waters, does it? And who is Kahoku?”
“No, Miss, the Luau takes place on the beach, you’ll be perfectly safe” the younger Risian answered in Sakarra’s stead “And Kahoku is our surfing teacher.”
“I seeeeeeee” Lexie gave her cousin what she probably considered a meaningful look, then remembered something else “you said music? As in, there’s going to be a band playing?”
Sakarra shrugged, both at the look and the question “I think so. And stop grinning like that, I have no intentions of that nature concerning Kahoku”
With a grin of her own she added “But I could introduce you, he IS rather attractive…”
“Huh, I’ll stick with people who prefer dry land if it’s all the same to you. But a band? Oh ’Kara you HAVE to sing!”
“For a bunch of strangers? Absolutely NOT!”
“It’ll be FUN ‘Kara! Oh pretty pleeeez?” Olixinna was giving Sakarra her best ‘I’m too adorable, you can’t say no to me’ look and the young Half-Vulcan couldn’t help but chuckle. She did have a point, too. It might be fun. And even if the two of them somehow managed to cause a little mischief again, grandma and auntie Lwanissa were always there to straighten things out.
Looking at three hopeful faces, two Risian and one Betazoid, she gave an exaggerated sigh. “Fine. But don’t even THINK about requesting the Donkey Song!”
“Spoilsport!” Lexie laughed happily “How about the one with the guy punching the Klingon? Or that other one, you know…”
“Lexie, I should NEVER have introduced you to James. He’s a bad influence!”
“Why, because his people know a thing or two about drinking and funny songs? Which reminds me, why does he call you his ‘Galway Girl’? You’re not a Terran.”
Putting on her best ‘I will not dignify this inquiry with a response’ face, Sakarra said “How about we just ask someone what kind of music they’ll be playing and then figure something out.” “A-HA I knew it. Good idea, though. You think your pal in whom you’re not at all interested might have an idea?”
Groaning inwardly, the young woman had to admit Olixinna was right. Kahoku was one of the organizers of the Luau and had already asked Sakarra if she wanted to participate. He would probably love Lexie’s idea.
She nodded at the two Risians who had followed the exchange between the Betazoid women with a mixture of confusion and amusement “Very well dears, we’ll see you this evening. Lexie, let’s go find Kahoku. If he’s not riding a wave, he should be at the beach this time of day.”
George watched the two Betazoids run down towards the beach, hand in hand. Well, one was running, the other had gathered up her dress in her free hand and let herself be dragged along, shouting something that sounded both amused and mildly scornful.
After a while they came back, walking slowly this time, deep in conversation with a tanned human male. His tattoos identified him as most likely Polynesian and he was exhibiting all the signs of a man with a minor headache. Gesturing with his arms, he was obviously trying to explain something of great importance to the young ladies who listened intently but radiated confusion all the same.
The group reached the small open air bar located by the pond and the Betazoids settled in rattan chairs while the human steered towards the counter, apparently in dire need of a drink. George decided to walk over and introduce himself, noticing with a chuckle that the lovely women were exchanging what could only be described as ‘puzzled glances’.
“Lexie?”
“Hm?”
“I think he lost me there somewhere with the royalty thing”
“Yes, me too”
“Lexie?”
“Hm?”
“What’s an ‘Elvis’?”
FlyGirls and The Dress
[Arandel]
Two of Betazed’s three moons were gleaming over Arandel, bathing the continent in their gentle light. To the ancient -and some modern- Betazoids those moons had a great spiritual significance, much like on many other worlds. In any case, if they were indeed silent watchers of the scenes unfolding on the planet below them… they just might have been a bit surprised. And quite possibly miffed. For there, on a roof belonging to a beautiful old house nestled among the hills right outside Arandel’s only larger city, were two shadowy figures moving about stealthily. Alien, too, by the looks of them, one with wildly swinging antennae and the other with pointed ears, clad in dark jumpsuits and quite obviously up to no good whatsoever.
“You know, I’m starting to think that this was NOT such a good idea, Sehlat.”
“Huh, the woman used to blast holes into Borg ships and now she gets nervous about a little nightly climbing?” Sakarra chuckled.
“Borg ships don’t have slippery, rounded roofs with no handholds. And what’s with Moshe locking that door anyways? That’s NOT very Betazoid of him!”
“He probably guessed we might try something like this.”
“WE? My dearest Sehlat, YOU are the one who lost the bet, fair and square. I don’t even know why I got myself involved in this” the Andorian muttered. “Watch that shingle there, it looks loose.”
“Fair and square my … anyways, he cheated. And Olixinna was in on the conspiracy.” Sakarra inched her way towards the little window looking out at the nightly sky “She was the one who bought that crimson red thing she calls a dress when it should actually be called a health hazard and got the invitation to the ball from her friend the Starfleet Commander. AND she gave Moshe the hints to win the stupid bet.”
“So…” Sirta grinned with perked antennae “it’s NOT true then, that after your performance on Risa a Ferengi offered your weight in gold pressed Latinum for you, and your grandmother shoved a mango in his ear for his troubles?”
“It was a pineapple, SnowFox. Don’t get your fruit confused.” The young woman carefully tried to open the window, but it wouldn’t budge. “And he was NOT serious about it for crying out loud. Blast it, he locked that, too!”
“So it’s back to breaking and entering, I assume?” Sirta removed a rather sharp looking knife from her boot and gave the window an appraising look. “I thought Moshe proved that he really was serious? He had that Ferengi at twice your weight before your aunt came down on him like a ton of bricks. Must have been some song, Burning Love or something?”
“Yes, I’d found it in the database. Funny you mention that, apparently humans on Hawaii once believed aliens were blue, cute and fluffy. And liked Elvis. Now will you please open that window already?”
The Andorian gave her friend a nonplussed look and then carefully got to work on the window’s lock “Cute and fluffy, huh? And what’s an Elvis?”
“Believe me, I wish I’d never found out,” Sakarra sighed. “And it’s not breaking and entering” she added when the window sprang open with a satisfying click “We didn’t break a thing, see?”
“Somehow I don’t think that explanation would satisfy the authorities, Sehlat” but Sirta was chuckling “Hop in, if Moshe shows up I’ll hoot or something.”
“Hoot? You might as well do the Rumba on his roof. Just lay low until I got the dress and hope like hell that the others keep Moshe occupied. It’s going to cost me dearly to pay for all those ales as it is!” The young woman slid into the room and scanned the dimly lit interior. Where would a man hide a dress?
“If I were you I’d be more worried about ‘Wellington’ catching on to your little scheme and sending Moshe home early. I have a feeling he’s been part of that so called conspiracy and was rather looking forward to taking you to the ball. And if all else fails we can still haggle with a certain Ferengi to settle the bar tab.”
“GOT it” Sakarra stuck her head out of the window “Typical. In a box under the bed. You were saying?”
“Never mind… so what’s wrong with that dress anyways?” Sirta helped her friend climb back onto the roof and then closed the window again, trying to push the lock back into place.
“You mean apart from the fact that I have no idea how one is supposed to get into that … thing? Well, it seems specifically designed to reveal more than it covers. No matter how you twist or turn, someone is always going to be treated to an interesting view. And it spells ‘common cold from breezes where you don‘t want them’ all over.”
“Ah, one of THOSE. Yes, they’re a health hazard alright.” the two women started their perilous climb back to solid ground “To assorted males in the vicinity at least. But Sehlat, what if Moshe or Lexie simply buy another dress?”
“They’d have to go back to Risa to find another one of his kind” Sakarra grumbled “No self respecting Betazoid would have something like THIS for sale unless it’s lingerie. And even Olixinna won’t go THAT far” she thought about that last statement for a second “at least she better not.”
They had almost reached the soft grass of Moshe’s lovingly tended to garden, when the sound of footsteps and two male voices - unfortunately VERY sober ones - reached Sakarra’s sensitive ears. Muttering a word under her breath which her grandmother would have disapproved of most strongly, she jumped and fell right into a Tarna bush. “Ow” she scrambled out of the thorny plant, while an Andorian with twitching antennae was doing her very best not to laugh out loud.
“SEHLAT” came Moshe’s booming voice “This better NOT be you!”
“Oh SH…” Sirta took off, only to be overtaken halfway through the garden by a half-Vulcan clutching a very red dress . “SnowFox I can SEE you” James shouted “Shame on you girls!” Sakarra grabbed on to Sirta and accelerated. She jumped the fence in one long, graceful stride, but failed to take into account the downward slope on the other side. It was a long roll to the bottom of the hill, but at least Sirta caught her footing in time and came away entirely unharmed. And the dress was by any definition ruined. “Small favors…” the young woman muttered, rubbing her scraped elbow, before she and the Andorian took off into the night. No point in waiting to see whether someone was coming after them.
[A few days later at the Annual Interstellar Trade Guild Ball, Great Plaza in Dalaria]
“You know, it’s a good thing those bruises have healed in time.” James ‘Wellington’ Kelly gave the young woman next to him an appreciative look. She didn’t look too happy, but she didn’t seem inclined to hit him with something, either. In his opinion she looked rather stunning, with her hair done in an elaborate Betazoid style and with the long, elegant, but still revealing enough burgundy red gown that her cousin had been able to procure, only the Saints knew where, and that kind of made the collar of his dress uniform feel tighter than usual. “Knockout!” had been his initial comment but for some reason that hadn’t gone over well. Whenever Sehlat was giving heavy objects a certain ‘Look’, one was better off lying low. But the plunging neckline made it unusually difficult to NOT notice that there was indeed a female under that red fabric.
“I mean, it would have spoiled the effect a bit. The dress looks good on you. It really brings out your… uh, eyes.”
Look at her eyes look at her… Oh DAMN
“James…”
“Yes, Sakarra”
“Shut up”
“Shutting up Ma’am”
Sakarra scanned the crowd - they were all there, Betazoid dignitaries, Starfleet, ambassadors and merchants from the Trade Agreement Conference, Olixinna with a huge grin on her face and a certain Commander at her arm and of course her entire squadron BLAST THEM in their dress uniforms. And they were probably expecting her to pout all evening.
Right…
James winced when he saw a devilish smile appear on the young woman’s face. But he’d braved worse things than a Betazoid-Vulcan hybrid out to get even. He really hoped he had. Really.
“James…” she purred “.. about that ’Donkey Song’ …”
‘Oh, Saints preserve us’
"Innocence" Part IV
[Vathax Mountains]
“Dammit Sehlat, you’re gonna fall and your doctor buddy isn’t here to patch you up!”
“Stop fussing, Mira, and hold the bag open. I almost got them.”
Mira “WrongWay” (don’t ask!) Ryxthen felt slightly foolish, dancing around under the tree with something vaguely resembling a bed sheet, while her friend was up there reaching for some flowers. About to break the branch she was climbing and subsequently some bones. Again. Rolling her eyes, Mira held open the sheet, inexplicably designated “bag”, and waited for either flowers or a half-Vulcan to drop.
This was Moshe’s payback, volunteering the squad for the job of collecting flowers and such for the Grax wedding. Like it was their fault things had gotten a little out of hand on that blasted ball. Or that Moshe got a bit banged up in the process. It had been boring, anyways, and if Sehlat hadn’t had that funny idea… well, to Mira it had been funny. And to Sirta and Renn and the others, too. Even to the Klingon ambassador, who had ended up laughing so hard he had spilled Romulan ale all over the first minister of some weird backwater planet. They hadn’t meant for any of the tables to get knocked over or the flower arrangements to be eaten … “Stop dreaming, here they come!”
Mira stepped sideways and managed to catch most of the fragrant blue blossoms without damaging them. If they messed them up too much, Moshe would probably get sarcastic again and Mira certainly had had enough of that for the moment.
“You got them? WHOA!”
The young Betazoid woman jumped at the sound of breaking wood ‘I KNEW it!’ and saw her friend come crashing through the tree’s canopy.
At just about the last moment, Sakarra grabbed hold of one of the lower branches and was left dangling, her pretty spring-green dress sporting a few holes that hadn’t been there before. ‘So much for borrowing that one for my date’ Mira thought before carefully setting down the sheet.
“You need a hand?” she asked, grinning at the nonplussed expression on Sehlat’s face. “Bit late for asking that, don’t you think?” Sakarra answered dryly “Just get out the way so I can finish my crash with dignity”
“Hey, is that a new subspecies of green Nightwind in that tree?” Renn “WiseGuy” and Kolan “FORD” (If you must know, Found On Road Dead callsign bestowed after a particularly long party at the “Drunken Spaceman”) came walking through the trees, laughing and pointing. “You know, I always wondered what that Vulcan name of yours meant, Sehlat. I’m starting to think it’s ‘Runs with bruises’ or something.”
“Very funny, WiseGuy. Mira, will you kindly MOVE?” Sakarra let herself fall and rolled into the soft grass. Getting up, she tilted her head at Renn “Actually, it means ‘Falls out of trees a lot’. There goes that dress…” she looked at the rather bedraggled fabric with a frown.
“Really?”
Kolan punched his friend, chuckling “Yea, really. Come on, Wellington and SnowFox should be on the way back to the shuttle by now. You comin’, girls?”
“In a minute, Sehlat’s seen some Toyar over by that cliff. Or do you have any red?” Mira cast a look at the bag a mildly confused Renn was holding.
“Nah, couldn’t find any but we got tons of blue and pink”
“Right, we’ll catch up with you in a few, then” Sakarra said, already heading towards the cliffs. Mira followed, huffing. “Don’t even think about another stunt like this one, though. James is gonna have a fit if …”
“Then he should have come along with us.” Sakarra chuckled.
“Right, so I can collect flowers and the two of you can… never mind” Mira returned her friend’s sharp look with an innocent grin “I’m not asking for details, mind you. So, where to?”
Sirta had just finished stowing their precious cargo away safely (Moshe had threatened to send them out again if more than five of the flowers were ruined) when her antennae started to feel funny. “Uh, Wellington?” “Yes?” Renn and Kolan had just emerged from the tree line and made their way across the small river via some stones. James was hoping the girls would not be far behind, the usually soft pink clouds were starting to look sort of funny. Not in the laughing way for sure. “I think we should hurry up a bit” Sirta said thoughtfully and James nodded. They’d both been on Betazed long enough to know how startlingly fast the weather could change here and it was the season and region for rainstorms. Sure enough, the two ‘natives’ walking towards them cast glances at the sky and, by unspoken agreement, picked up their pace. Where were the two women?
“There, that should do it” Sakarra jumped off the boulder with a satisfied expression, but then something caught her attention. There was an odd scent on the wind. “Mira?”
“Not sure” the young Betazoid answered “But we might want to..’
“Right.”
The started running downhill, Sakarra grabbing on to the bag and dragging Mira along, but halfway to the shuttle the rain came pouring down. Within seconds, both of them were soaked. “Just what we needeeeeee….OW!”
Sakarra couldn’t help but laugh at her friend, who sat on the muddy ground with a most indignant expression on her face, water dripping off her nose and from her dark brown curls.
“Alright, hop on board WrongWay” she giggled “just make sure you hold on tight to that sheet, I’m NOT going back up there tomorrow.” “You sure?” “Want to stand here and argue?” Mira looked at Sakarra with her torn, wet dress, tangled hair and muddy feet, figured she probably didn’t look any better and besides, her friend wasn’t supposed to get too cold… she got up and jumped on the back of the fastest runner she knew, holding on for dear life. “Cleared for take-off, Sehlat”
They came racing out from the trees and stopped abruptly in front of an unexpected obstacle. The small river wasn’t all that small any more. In fact, it was raging with rainwater from further up the mountains. At least the others had made it back already, crowding the shuttle’s interior and waving towards them.
“Vathax, we have a problem” Mira muttered.
Sakarra didn’t reply but gave the river a long, thoughtful look.
Oh, boy…
James knew what she was going to do even before he saw her grin.
“DAMN that woman, she’ll turn my hair gray before my time” he muttered, standing helplessly in the shuttle’s door as he saw her back up a few steps and then start running, picking up speed at an amazing rate.
A heartbeat later they went flying, Half-Vulcan, Betazoid, flowers in the bag and all. And much to his relief, they made it across. Barely, but they made it. The landing, though, was not exactly elegant. Significantly less than elegant, considering both women now were covered in grass and mud from head to toes.
Stepping out of the shuttle he made way for a mildly disgruntled Mira still holding tight to the - thankfully waterproof- bag and stopped Sakarra, carefully wrapping an arm around her waist.
“Miss Tyrax…”
She grinned at him, the delight over her little adventure still clearly twinkling in her eyes.
Not caring about the rain or the most amused audience inside the shuttle, he pulled her closer until his lips were level with her ear “Sehlat, you are incorrigible.”
“Took you long enough to figure that out, Wellington” Sirta shoved a grinning Renn out the way and made for the controls, shouting back over her shoulder “If you’d care to come inside now, I wouldn’t mind getting out of here…” seeing Renn and Kolan elbowing each other and pointing towards the door, the Andorian rolled her eyes “Oh, why do I bother…”
Of Jewels and Valkyries
Always acknowledge a fault frankly. This will throw those in authority off their guard and give you opportunity to commit more.
(Mark Twain)
[Observation lounge USS Potsdam, outskirts of the Betazed system]
“I thought they said ‘squadron’, Commander. Where’s the rest of it?”
“This would appear to be it, Admiral” the dark haired Vulcan looked out the window, then back at his PADD. “Designated ‘Jewel Three’, based out of Arandel. I believe I mentioned the Betazoids do not precisely adhere to..”
“Yes yes yes you did. But this is barely a flight and a half and just LOOK at that gaggle!”
Commander Sorak looked. “According to a Mister ‘Daddy Chicken’ Moshe, this is all they have, sir.”
“Daddy what?” Admiral von Bruegge was not having a good day. Training exercises could be anything from brilliant displays of tactics to utter disasters, but for THIS you had to invent an entirely new word. Out of the 24 brand new interceptors they had delivered to the Betazoids months ago, only 18 had pilots so far, and while the first squadron they had been training with earlier had performed admirably, von Bruegge thought it might be less of a headache to just station a bunch of Starfleet pilots here and be done with it. And speaking of headache… “Daddy Chicken, sir” the Vulcan said, giving the Admiral one of those looks through which the amusement was absolutely not supposed to show, but did.
“Apparently a misunderstanding involving some Terran idiom.”
“Ach du liebe Zeit…”
“Sir?”
“Never mind, Sorak. Are we ready?” rubbing his temples, von Bruegge cast another weary look at the ragtag band of … something out there.
“Potsdam to Jewel Three leader, please acknowledge” the Commander touched a blue panel on the strategic display and was immediately answered by a cheerful voice “This is SnowFox. Go ahead, Potsdam” “We are ready to commence the exercise. Please confirm you wish to train against a full squadron.” “Confirmed.” The woman sounded strangely confident, given the state of her, for lack of a better term, squadron. “Unless you’re afraid we might bruise some egos. In that case, by all means, call your kids back to the nest.” “Very well,” the Vulcan’s brows seemed intent on climbing above his hairline “Red, Green and Blue leaders, proceed at your discretion. Potsdam out.”
As the Potsdam’s interceptors streamed past the starship and bore down on the Betazoids like hungry predators, the Admiral was not surprised to see them scramble. Two of them actually made a run for the outermost J-class planet in the system. He nodded to his adjutant “Tie us in, Sorak. And have medical stand by in case they manage to hurt themselves.”
“… watch your six there, Ford”
“No worries, grandma” the laughing voice of a young male made the Admiral shake his head, but Sorak suddenly looked rather thoughtful. The Betazoids’ behavior did not correspond with their attitude. Illogical, unless…
“You think I didn’t notice they’re trying to lure us into a little trap?” von Bruegge smirked at the Vulcan “and if I noticed, don’t you think…”
“Sir?”
“Yes, what?”
On the tactical display the two Betazoid interceptors appeared to be returning from behind the planet, but two of their four pursuers showed up damaged “it would seem the ‘little trap’ was a little successful, sir”
“Status, Wellington” the leader’s voice was suddenly all business-like
“In a minute, grandma”
“WrongWay?”
“Khrysaros got ‘em good, SnowFox but I’m kinda … HEY that was NOT nice!”
With hands clasped behind his back, Admiral von Bruegge looked at the ‘Furball’ of various dogfights outside the window. A second one of the Betazoids had just been ‘shot down’ and broke off. Astonishingly enough, they had somehow managed to disable two more opponents. But their home advantage would not help them much longer, from the look of things they were merely hanging on by sheer determination. He gave them three more minutes. At the most.
“Khrysaros, Commander?”
“The Betazoid designation for their outermost planet, sir. Apparently it has properties that are inconsequential to a starship but…” the Vulcan looked even more thoughtful, if such a thing was possible. Before he could ramble on about the precise nature of those properties, the Betazoids’ leader’s voice interrupted and von Bruegge sent a silent ‘thank you‘. “NOW would be a good time, Wellington!”
‘Good time for what?’ the Admiral scanned for the interceptor with the bright green cow playing a harp painted on it. Strange sense of humor, these people. What did an ancient British Duke have to do with… there it was, performing a near perfect Herbst maneuver, while another interceptor with a … what? giant image of Einstein? painted on it shot down it’s pursuers. “They’re crazy!” he muttered “A flying circus, that’s what they are!” “Sir, I must point out that the term ‘Flying Circus’ was also used in referring to the human ace Manfred von Richthofen and…’ “THANK you Sorak.” His headache sure wasn’t going to get any better.
“And NOW it is, SnowFox”
The Admiral had barely time to wonder what “it” was and why this Betazoid was speaking with an Irish accent, when the comm link was suddenly flooded with music. Very loud music.
“WHAT THE HE…”
“WAGNER, SIR!”
“WHAT? SHUT THAT … off. Thank you. What WAS that?”
“Wagner, sir.” Sorak absentmindedly rubbed his ear. “Ride of the Valkyries.”
“Yes, I know. I mean what… what?” The tactical display now showed more than half of their own fighters either shot down or disabled, and the three remaining Betazoids were suddenly not flying so clumsily any more. Still crazy, but there was method to the madness. “It would seem, sir, that all comm channels are jammed. Ours and the interceptors. With Wagner, sir.” Sorak still looked a bit like a Vulcan who just had gotten hit behind the ears, but he was fussing over the comm panel with an almost admiring look on his face.
“What? But that means their own communications are out, too, right?” “Unless they’re listening to the music, yes, sir. But I must point out, they ARE telepaths.” “Oh, now THAT is… WHOA!” von Bruegge jumped as one of the interceptors, in hot pursuit of Red Three, made a high speed pass right in front of the windows, “That cocky SON of a …” “Sir?” “Sorak, I want that bouncing … pilot’s head on a platter, are we clear?” “Yes, sir.” Sorak assumed for the moment that the Admiral was speaking figuratively. And he decided that this might not be the time to point out, that the pilot in question was in fact a ‘daughter of a …’. The animal painted on the offending interceptor’s hull had looked rather familiar to the Vulcan. “Get me communications back, Commander!”
But it was too late. The pilot designated “SnowFox” had drawn away three of the four remaining attackers and together with her wingman “Sehlat” disabled two, before the latter took a simulated hit that in a real scenario would have made her craft go up in a ball of flames. In the meantime, the one called “Ford” -‘interesting, what does an ancient Terran vehicle have to do with a glass of ale? And why would one paint an alcoholic beverage on …’- had disposed of the fourth. The lone ‘survivor’ of Potsdam’s interceptors fell prey to the Betazoids’ leader and the Admiral’s face had turned a quite disconcerting shade of red.
“Himmel Arsch und Zwirn!”
“Admiral?”
Werner von Bruegge wasn’t a man who lost his countenance in front of ANYone. But those Betazoids were sure pushing it, huddling together right back where they‘d started in something not even vaguely resembling a formation. “Extend my congratulations to Jewel Three. And tell them if they EVER pull another number like that, I’ll either have to have a word with their superiors or draft them.”