Thread: Endgame Redux.
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Old October 12 2012, 12:01 AM   #8
Guy Gardener
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Re: Endgame Redux.

Part 6.

Conference rooms are almost standard no matter the size of the Star Ship. The Admiral has been brought somewhere more civilized to explain her mysterious conduct to a man not significant enough to clean her boots. GOOD LORD Kathy self assesses had to do something with this rampant entitlement before it gets her hung by the yard arm. She just has to talk to them like they’re people and not war criminals responsible for detestable acts of genocide. C’est la vie. “Imagine this rank decaying monster out of nightmares comes to get you, but not all of you, but just pieces. Some of you is rubbish, and some of you is valuable. This fetid stinking decaying, rotting walking tumour cluster, so much larger than you, holding your neck down with a boot, cutting from here” Kathryn points at her own turkey waddle, slipping down her torso like human custard, then draws a line from there slowly past bosoms which have seen better days, a stomach still as flat as a 19 year olds, to then finally her once much talked about naval “To here. No aesthetic. Peeling you open like banana. An Orange? A person is not a piece of fruit. Heh, reaching inside through last night’s dinner to extract everything until you’re nothing but an empty sack. This is a future I can promise to most of your crew, who will come to grasp these experiences as their happiest days in the Delta Quadrant if you don’t listen to me carefully and with respect.”

“You’re a depressing woman.” Ransom snarls like pumas shaving dead skin off feet.

The Time Traveler ignores his sandtrap wit and plays through, “The Vidiians are victims of a very virulent plague. They’re also assholes who will do anything to survive that plague. There’s no cure. No cure they deserve. As a stopgap, they have become masters of organ transplantation, even though there’s very little point in transferring just barely less infected dying puss drowned organs from one patient to the next. Even their children are born sick. Pirates or privateers, whatever you want to call them, trek out into space to find healthy substitutes, from unwitting “volunteers”. Their government condones, encourages the systematic rape of free space and for that, deserves to have their sun blown up because they AUTHORIZE these attacks on foreign unaligned ships too far from home, transforming vibrant explorers into offal, then pay off any officials or family back home that ask too many of the wrong questions. Murder and conspiracy on a galactic scale.”

Ransom is massaging his temples “And you want to bargain with these Vidiians?”

“I do not naturally see them as allies, but our circumstances are hardly ideal. We can’t avoid dealing with them as less than terrifying and deadly, or they’ll cut us off at the knees. The Vidiians are between us and where we need to be. There will be a conversation. It’s just a question of how many pieces we’re in when they offer a counterproposal to the kings ransom I brought with me… This ships weapons are a joke. You weren’t built to fight. You can’t strong arm anyone. Equinox needs to rely on blackmail, leverage and graft. A Vidiian Abattoir can take on a Galaxy Class Starship easily, you would be hard pressed to repel their shuttle compliment. We have to be more valuable in one piece than in hundreds stapled and stitched into their patchwork puzzelpiece potluck physiologies. Their boarding crew will fillet your face, cut it into 12 pieces and give each segment to 12 desperate people who are the least likely to have any sexual contact. That is the limit of their concern for the ethical treatment of your remains, that they don’t make you accidentally have sex with yourself after you’re dead… Although, no bureaucracy is perfect.”

Rudy isn’t sure what’s fact and what’s pageantry intent to scare the willies out of him. Obviously she’s playing him, it’s just a question of how well… “But you think giving these heartless butchers seven thousand LIVE Klingons will make us firm allies enough to guarantee our safety for how many hours? Can we trust them? If they’re as awful as you claim, how can you possibly consider an alliance with such outright evil and not expect them to turn on us like the scorpion with the frog.”



“It’s the parable of the Scorpion and the Fox.”

“No it isn’t.”

“Yes it is.”

“It’s Aesop. I’ve read the story to my granddaughter dozens of times. Scorpion and the Frog.”

“Frog? Really? No, that doesn’t make sense.”

“And a fox does? How does that make sense? Can foxes even swim?”

“Well it’s not like Frogs can talk, and I seriously doubt that there were any frogs in ancient Greece either, the climate is all wrong. Ransom. I’m from the Future. I’m in charge of a wealth of knowledge you couldn’t even begin to imagine. You don’t want to test me on this.”

“And I’m from the past, so I’m much closer to ancient history than you are. You don’t want to test me. It’s a damn frog.”

“It’s a damn Fox.”

“I said, that it’s a damn Frog.”

“Scorpion and the Fox. I’m adamant” She crosses her arms and all the age lines on her face interlock like the mesh webbing of a suspension bridge used to hold unimaginable weights of freight out of rivers.

“Well, as long as you’re adamant, Computer? …Access the Terran historical cultural database. ”

“Are you calling me a liar?”

“You can be wrong without lying.”

“I’m going to take this ship.”


“I thought I could use you as a puppet. Sit back and let you do the heavy lifting. But if you can’t even admit that you’re wrong when you clearly are in error, I don’t see how we can maintain this alliance when I’m not sure why I haven’t put you in the brig.”

“I’m not sure where to start.” Captain Ransom needs a hug.

“You’re a very indecisive man.”

“1. I’m no-ones puppet. 2. You can do your own damn heavy lifting. 3. It is a bloody Frog. 4. This is not an alliance, between us, you and me, you are my prisoner, and 5. You can’t put me in the brig because I already put you there, re #4: YOU ARE MY PRISONER and It’s my brig and you’re in it.”

“How you identify the world around you is a little bland and barely 3 dimensional Rudolf.”

“Do you want to spend the next 70 years in stasis?”

“You don’t have the stones.”

“I have plenty of stones.”

“Then you’re an idiot who hasn’t been listening. The universe left you alone to roll the dice once by yourself and it all finished sub par. I’m here to hold your hand and make sure that you don’t cock everything up again. You need me and you will do what I say or you will not end well. That’s not a threat or a promise but just an observation from someone who has absolutely no faith in you to look after yourself because I’ve seen you die. It was embarrassing. I’m still laughing on the inside thinking about what a bloody lemming you are.”

Is she trying to start a fight? Is it cool to hit an old lady? Sexual equality is a given, he can hit women, there’s nothing wrong with a fair fight, but picking on a 90 year old is hardly sporting even if they’re mostly cyborgs stewing in amphetamines, twice as strong as a Gorn on heat. Maybe she’s senile? “You can’t provoke me. We’re both reasonable people, I just want to understand what you think needs to be done and why. You don’t have to be such a… We can work together as equals, it’s not impossible. We can find common ground and everyone benefits.”

“Who the hell is going to benefit if just one of those klingons make it back to the Alpha Quadrant with 10 or 20 years of Foreknowledge enough to control the rise and fall of empires? Qu’noS would be the seat of the Alpha Quadrant in less than a year and the entire galaxy 10 years after that. They’re dangerous. Your granddaughter will be reading Aesop in klingoneese to her children. They’re too dangerous to remain on the playing field even if they didn’t command warships powerful enough to push around the Organians. There’s no where to send them back to because our future doesn’t exist anymore, we don’t have the facilities to guard them ourselves, and we can’t trust anyone in this backward quadrant to more than half ass it. I’m not averse to outright executing the lot of them, they were out to kill me first after-all, quid pro quo, but it seems like such a waste of resources. They are an answer to a threat which we should be very well be concerned about.”

“God. What did they do to you?”

“The Klingons of the Vidiians?”

“The Vidiians.”

“I watched them kill me.”

“You can’t get more personal than that.”

“Sure you can. They watched me kill them.”

“So this is some sort of grudge?”

“Everything I do is very logical, it’s just too big picture for you at the moment.”

“I don’t understand what is motivating you. Kirk always went back in time, in the history books, to forestall the end of all civilization; I just don’t see those stakes here. What am I missing?”

“You need to select a special task force to revive, cull and chord the klingons. We don’t have all day.”

“Why didn’t you just bring weapons back with you so that we could fight the Vidiians without all this underhanded duplicity?”

“There’s light at the end of the tunnel for the Vidiians.”

“Are you talking about daylight or an oncoming train?”

“Kurros was vague; there is a final solution to the Vidiian question we don’t have to be involved with, I’d just prefer not to wake up on one of their tables listening to my internal organs being thrown into a bucket before it happens.”

“This doesn’t seem wise.”

“You’re sitting on a mighty high horse.”

“My uniform stands for something.”

“They’re not evil. These people, the Vidiians are just intense. I’ve only met thousands of them, an unfortunate experience on every level, but there are billions more who might not be bastards, so I’m confident Rudolf that given the same pallet of undesirable choices that you wouldn’t be any less mercenary. It’s this, be a toxic poison to everyone who crosses your path, or swallow a phaser after mercifully drowning your children first.”

“Considering what you want to do to those klingons, how does that make you any different from these Vidiians?”

“Because those Klingon’s will never be born. They don’t exist. You can’t kill people who don’t exist.”

“I could say the same of you. Sure there’s a Kathryn Janeway out there, somewhere already, but that woman is never going to be you unless you screw everything up so magnificently that you make zero impact on the timeline and your younger version of yourself still has to go back to avenge the same misdeeds as you have… If it’s alright to do any horrible thing to those innocent Klingons just because they’re temporal refugees, then it’s equally justifiable to do the same horrible thing to you Admiral since you don’t exist either.”

“I’m better than them.”

“I’m sorry, but I thought that you were wearing a Starfleet Uniform.”

“Some people are scum. Even some specific Klingons can selectively, rarely be decent human beings, but these actual klingons are scum, and I am not. I can be trusted to act responsibly with time, they can be trusted to rape and pillage if you leave them alone with enough strong drink. They’re thugs working for a warlord. If I don’t know someone, a species, I’ll give in to the benefit of my ideals and sacrifice my life for theirs if the situation calls for it, but these criminal bastards I already know, intimately, and there is not going to be any noble sacrifice to defend their right to be living sociopathic monsters I'm willing to commit to.”

“Good lord woman, Is there any one you don’t hate intensely?”

“You live longer if you chose not to use your heart so much.”

“That’s a lie.”

“We are the result of everything that’s been done to us.”

“I completely disagree with your assessment on EVERYTHING.” Ransom signals security to take Janeway back to her cell in the brig. “Our EMH is going to begin prepping you for long term stasis. I’m sorry Admiral, but I just don’t believe that you are stable or morally sound, and I can’t stand you. You’ll be Earth’s problem in 7 decades, and they can figure out what to do with you. Goodbye.”

“Then I’m going to have to take your ship.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

“No, no you wouldn’t.”
"Glitter is the herpes of arts and craft."

Troy Yingst. My Life as Liz

Last edited by Guy Gardener; October 12 2012 at 12:20 AM.
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