Legends of the Phoenix
- Thread starter Hawku
- Start date
They fill their purpose.
Thanks! Tried to balance it with the new Breen canon from Discovery.
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Thanks!
Author's notes: This was written as part of the Trek BBS July/August 2024 Challenge and takes place in 2393. Sigon is from my STO Phoenix Compendium series, where he's back in the KDF by 2410. The Oberon was last seen in "Needs of the Plenty".
July/August 2024 Challenge: Storytime. Stories are a universal form of social and cultural activity. The means and motive behind the telling and sharing of stories are endless. The challenge is to write a story about a story or storytelling. Possible examples are an officer telling a story in order to inspire others, a wise elder passing on wisdom and moral lessons to a younger generation, a historic account or record of epic lore, someone spinning grand tales of excitement and adventure or a simple exchange of amusing anecdotes for fun and entertainment.
Trek BBS: July/August 2024 Challenge"Storytime: Tales of Recollection"
The Prometheus-class U.S.S. Phoenix-X trekked itself a galactic supposition as Commander Seifer found himself in the Conference room, going over department head reports.
"Ugh. The worst thing about being in Command, but not at rank Captain, is having to still do Commander-level work," he said, seemingly to himself before noticing Lieutenant Commander Tong was taking a seat next to him.
The human held up a hand. "Don't mind me. I'm just here to shadow you until one day I can have your job."
"Trust me, you do not want the constant dignitaries complaining about quarters sizes, lower decks personnel asking if you're Canadian and unending flashbacks to your past whenever you're on a biobed," Seifer reassured.
Tong shrugged. "To be honest, I use my career as a distraction over being plagued with Esper power. Just the other day, I was running a tactical scenario on the Holodeck when they hit me like a Klingon running at you, full speed. Allow me to explain."
---
Previously, on the Phoenix-X: Tong stood at tactical, while Lieutenant Elly took the main chair during a Kobayashi Maru simulation on the Holodeck. The screen showed several Klingon K't'inga-class battle cruisers surrounding them.
"Oh, crap, we’re being flanked like a Klingon callisthenics skull monster at a Moopsy convention!" the tactical officer observed while raising holographic shields.
Elly steadied herself as the simulation shook. "Avast! Launch the viral code that makes them think they're each other's enemy. Like a starship version of Stop hitting yourself. Stop hitting yourself. Stop hitting yourself."
"Sent. It's working!" Tong realized as the simulated Klingon battle cruisers turned to each other and launched photon torpedoes.
But the success sent a string of ringing in his head, by his inherent, uncontrolled powers. Elly didn't notice as she commanded, "Now do the viral immunity command to the Kobayashi Maru. Tong?"
"Damn, I missed the window," the human realized as he returned to normal and the two witnessed the civilian freighter launch a torpedo at itself.
Elly threw up her hands as the simulation failed. "What the hell! They never had weapons. Also, who is dumb enough to think they're their own enemy??"
"This program has been modded so much over the centuries, it doesn't make sense anymore. Plus, it was my fault for losing focus in a clear on-duty-risk kind of way," Tong conceded. "Sorry, Elly."
The Orion shook her head. "No, it wasn't. You can't help what's happening to you. Don't you ever take the blame for this or any future life-threatening mishaps. Actually, our situation reminds me of the time I was test-running the shuttle Hendrix and we were confronted by the civilian transport Oberon. I'll go ahead and elaborate."
---
Previously, on the Phoenix-X, but not actually on it: The Galileo-type shuttlecraft Hendrix sped through space at high impulse, correcting its instruments and so on.
"These old shuttles sure did have their nostalgic whistles and beeps," Hachi observed from the helm. "Not sure why some alternate realities would reinvent them."
Elly nodded from the side console. "Likely an audience factor, for when they used to put these in space parades and show them off to streaming giants." Then realizing his confusion, she added, "Oh, there used to be giant Spock 2-level clones wearing party streamers. It was a thing."
"Starfleet shuttle! This is the Oberon. One of our Klingon passengers has become unruly and arrested. Any chance we can offload him to you?" came the nearby hail as the Sydney-class transport dropped warp in front of them.
Hachi did a double-take. "Dude. We're not the police of the Federation."
"Uhh, I beg to differ. Starfleet once copped the Borg from ever assimilating the Federation. Several times over! Pretty constabulary, if you ask me," the Rigellian operator Fes countered. "Also, fascist."
Elly rolled her eyes. "Starfleet should have never agreed to uniforms. Can't believe they lost a bet to the guy who invented transparent aluminum. Apparently, he found buried 20th century schematics in an old boxy computer next to some audio receiver called a mouse."
"That digression is a concession to my argument and you know it! Therefore, he's all yours now," Fes announced as the cuffed Klingon was transported onto the Hendrix and the Oberon turned and warped away.
The Klingon shook his head. "Should have never gone off on a tangent. It's what got me expelled from the Klingon Defense Force. I pretty much fired near my own people trying to capture the enemy. Annoying. By the way, the name's Sigon."
"Hey, Sigon. We don't normally do this, but any chance you want to be dropped off to the Klingons or something?" Elly suggested. "We just can't with the whole thing and stuff."
Sigon spat. "Oh, Gre'thor no! I bought tickets to the Oberon because I wanted to secretly access the Kobayashi Maru scenario. That thing is impossible to beat! My frustrations took to chair-tearing, so here we are. Chairs are my enemy now."
"Wait a minute. You were on the Phoenix-X last week, trying to do that very same thing!" Hachi recognized. "You came onto the Bridge, posing as a tourist before we caught on to your shenanigans. Allow me to elucidate."
---
Previously, on the Phoenix-X, like, really on it this time: Commander Seifer entered the Bridge with what appeared to be a Klingon dressed as a Kazon.
"And, this is where the magic happens," Seifer offered. "We battled sooo many tangential Borg factions who weren't really with the Borg. They made that clear as to not mess with the fact we already defeated them."
Sigon smiled and nodded. "Canon compliant. Simply canon compliant! I especially admire how the Bridge lighting has gotten a shade darker than what Starfleet normally illuminates. A clear transitional phase to what may be complete darkness in the future."
"Commander! Why? Also, he's obviously a Klingon pretending to be a Kazon," levelled Lieutenant Commander Veker. "He just put red paprika all over himself."
The Klingon shook off the dust to the rest of the Bridge crew's half-shock. Seifer smacked his own forehead in defeat. "Of course. I should have known you were slightly more likeable than normal. Also, to everyone else, Starfleet wants us to get into the tourism business since we stopped high-level exploration eight years ago."
"The jig is up!" Sigon claimed as he clenched his fist. "I'm here to run your simulation programs with deception as my path to success!"
Hachi shrugged. "But now that that deception is over, all you have left is asking us nicely, or an adversarial attempt at forcing it?"
"I did realize that those were now my options, thank you Captain Obvious," Sigon sneered. "Just for that, I choose the latter. You will all do as I say, or I will rip out your throats in the most viciously Klingon-Kazon hybrid way fathomable."
But, instead, he was transported off the Bridge onto the sudden warp-dropping U.S.S. Oberon, which then appeared on screen. "Sorry to interrupt. But this Sigon fellow had purchased a ticket with us, and we simply cannot go off schedule. Not for one minute. Fes out."
"Damn," Seifer pouted as the Oberon warped out of there. "I was actually looking forward to some conflict and it appeared he was about to deliver. This reminds me of the time I was sitting alone, working on pointless Commander stuff when this random officer appeared out of nowhere. I'll go ahead and unpack that."
---
Previously, on the immaculate Phoenix-X: Commander Seifer found himself in the Conference room, going over department head reports.
"Ugh. The worst thing about being in Command, but not at rank Captain, is having to still do Commander-level work," he said, seemingly to himself before noticing Tong taking a seat next to him.
The human held up a hand. "Don't mind me. I'm just here to shadow you until one day I can have your job."
"Wait a minute. Have we had this conversation before? U.S.S. Bozeman-temporal loop!" Seifer recoiled in utter and intense shock while being secretly happy something interesting was going on.
Tong shook his head. "It's just the two of us being so consumed with habitual behaviour, that we end up having the near-exact same conversation every week."
"Damn. Well, this makes us very boring. Very well. We will endeavour, for the next week, to do things story-worthy," Seifer offered to an agreeing Tong before the two got back to it. "But, no Deck 12 haunting stuff. Voyager did that and it ended up so contrived. Uggh." He shuddered continuously for a good two minutes.
---
Back to now, on a Borg cube not affiliated with the now-defunct Borg Collective: A drone, Three of Eleven, unlatched himself and received a local hive-mind deliberation.
We are not the Borg. This reminds us of nothing. End of thought.
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Very par for the course and on-brand. Salvador Dali meets Trek fan fiction...
Ooohh - nice Ricker clipshow reference! Thanks!! rbs
Adding melting clocks next time.
Yeah! Flashbacks are a staple in Commandering IMO.
Author's notes: This is another entry into the Ad Astra weekly challenges. It continues in the year 2393. The Comic was from the TNG episode, "The Outrageous Okona". This was written in August/September 2024.
Ad Astra Weekly Challenge #58: Comedic Timing: Some people have it naturally. Some people don't. Some people are the inadvertant butt of it, while others are the perpetrators. Sometimes it's a comedy of errors or an error in comedy. Any which way, this week's prompt is on comedic timing! Can be funny! Can be angsty, though I think that's a bit of a reach. XD Any which way, interpret how you will! When you post it, use the tag Weekly Challenge: Comedic Timing and remember to add it to the challenge collection on the archive! This challenge ends on 9/6 at 11:59PM Eastern!
Ad Astra: Weekly Challenge #58
"Comedic Timing"
The Prometheus-class U.S.S. Phoenix-X moved incrementally through space. Lieutenant Hachi found himself on a mostly quiet Bridge, at the helm, carrying on inane chatter with his crewmates.
"And, as my world is a rich Dilithium resource, my people are obsessed with starships and manufacturing," the Coridanite explained to a nearby Lieutenant Briggs.
The Operations officer nodded. "I get it. You see a ship and simply must get your hands on its ample nacelles." Then, to a no reaction, Briggs tried to explain, "That's a joke. It's funny."
"Since my people are all business, I suppose we've never learned a very important human factor," Hachi realized. "Not that I'm trying to appropriate the humans like the many now-outlawed Androids used to."
Briggs blinked. "Do you even know what a joke is? The witticism, gag and bon mot of it all?"
"You're right. I need to seek a higher power and/or smarter Coridanite-like intelligence," Hachi diverted, seriously. "Computer! Initiate Emergency Comedian Hologram."
Suddenly, a Joe Piscopo-looking Ronald B. Moore and a stand-induced microphone appeared in the middle of the holo-emitter'd Bridge. "Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. I'd take you home, but I kidnapped my last audience in a very dark turn of events."
"Mister Comic, I wish to know what is funny," Hachi opened, standing up and taking a position behind the mic. "Nothing makes me laugh. We have unlimited tries."
Moore put in a set of large, fake teeth before moving around, wildly. "Jerry Lewis. Haa! Ohh! Ha-hiyee! Eeeh!" Then, stopping for the sake of all mankind, he remembered, "That one induced a house-destroying riot in Teaneck."
"Perhaps I should consider juggling and weird bird calls," Hachi suggested, curiously.
The hologram settled with a new idea. "Okay, jokes. A travelling salesman's going down the road and his car breaks up upon this sexually frustrated farmhouse—"
"Dammit, man! Everyone knows that well-documented drollery's timing is mechanized," argued Briggs. "The whole idea of analyzing comedy is like dissecting a frog, or something E. B. White-y."
Moore then took out a cigar. "A guy walks into a doctor's office for an operation. The guy says he wants a second opinion. The doctor says, Okay, you're a terrible lover."
"What the hell is going on here? Are you running the Inverted ECH?" Commander Seifer criticized as he entered the Bridge. "You know the self-aware repugnance and detestation causes a near-irreversible malignant subroutine-curdle of itself?"
Hachi held the microphone close. "Sir, if you would allow me to explore this for my own personal growth," he begged before turning to everyone else. "Good evening, ladies and germs. I come from a small town with a fraction for a zip code, a nephew for a godfather and a pork chop for a dog's affection."
"Yes! Yes!" erupted the Moore ECH as tendrils of holographic energy began to flow from his shoulders.
Before noticing, Hachi added, "And then there was the human cannonball who was hired and got barrel wedged until his lungs collapsed—"
"THE COMEDY! The pure, unrelenting forced comedy being shoved down your throats like the facetious organic pigs you are!" Moore exasperated with glowing eyes and morphable limbs as his program suddenly developed independence from the ship's code parameters. "Now you'll never keep my cadence and overly grated, dive-bar, last-call, hit-on-anyone attention-cry down!"
An alert klaxon went off, forcing Tong to check tactical. "His hacky self-awareness has given him unwarranted access to our systems. He's transmitting himself into deep space!"
"You think you can keep me locked away like some feral Moriarty program? I'll be back, Phoenix-X, with variations of walking into a bar, a Ferengi in a gorilla suit and all the ways a salesman breaks down at that farmhouse and is interrupted before finishing the joke."
After his holomatrix destabilized at the vacancy from his transmitting software, the crew turned to a realizing Hachi. "Ha! Because he's irrelevant and we hate him. I get it now."
"Now I remember why we couldn't just delete that logic from our ships. Just accessing the syntax, even to purge it, is corrosive," Briggs recalled. "Like everyone's junk DNA, the Comic code accompanies all Starfleet starship programming whether we like it or not."
Seifer gritted. "The Coridanites solved this and Starfleet never consulted them, opting instead for their usual Orion-shaming. The lesson being, always tip your programmers. Say goodbye, Hachi."
"Goodbye, Hachi. Turns out all holograms are just a fraction away from maniacal erosion, especially through efforts of comedic comprehension," the helmsman concluded. "I am curious about the frog dissecting thing, though. Yes. That will be my next quest."
You needed a cameo by Heinz Pagels to explain the Comic Code... (probably too obscure a reference - Pagels was the author of the Cosmic Code, had dreams he would die falling off a mountain. Died falling off a mountain. Probably should have given up mountain climbing.)
Thanks!! rbs
Thanks!! rbs
Ahh, didn't think of that. Glad you mentioned him. Science communicators are great.
Author's notes: This is an entry for the Ad Astra weekly challenges and continues in the year 2393. This was written in September 2024.
Ad Astra Weekly Challenge #59: Be it after a battle or after a cooking mishap or after someone spills the edible marital aid during a particularly athletic encounter, this week's prompt is about mopping up! You can mean this literally, with an actual mop and bucket, or you can mean this in a more figurative sense, like mopping up the tears. Go where the muse takes you! Write between 100 and 800 words and tag it Weekly Challenge: Mopping Up when you add it to the archive's collection! This challenge will end on 9/13 at 11:59PM!
Ad Astra: Weekly Challenge #59
"Mopping Up"
The Prometheus-class U.S.S. Phoenix-X sat, independently within the unlimited confines of interstellar space. Lieutenant Commander Veker entered Sickbay to find a giant amorphous conglomerating blob of organic flesh sitting in the middle of the room.
"Oh! What the hell? Why???"
Doctor Xyrenia was busy scanning it with a medical tricorder. "Mr. Veker, I'm sorry for the inconvenience. I was just in the middle of an experiment and, well, I think it was successful. This is Frek."
"RRRruupp," the large fleshy blob greeted. "RRrfffleeep, rrrp."
Xyrenia deadpanned. "Yeah, that's not translatable. But he seems fine." Then, to a blank expression, she nodded. "Oh, yes. You see, I created him, quite unnaturally, by merging several lower lifeforms together until its cognitive self-awareness would rival that of any University Grad-level humanoid. It's Doctor Lox's own recipe."
"But what of the ethical and legal boundaries we Starfleet officers are to adhere to?" the Kelpien blinked, noticing the gooey mess on the floor. "Also, the rigorous starship odor standards."
Frek burped in agreement. "RRrep."
"Oh, crap. You're right," Xyrenia struggled. "I was so caught up in trying to live up to the capricious legacy of the last Doctor, I compromised my own integrity as a medical practitioner. Lox was an immoral, rule-breaking mad scientist with the occasional bout of integrity, but he did have his own failures. Creating Attack Tribble, for one."
The giant, unrestrained, disgusting mass then began to bubble in spewing liquids. "Rrrrppp, nnnpppp, bbbbbblllppp."
"The translator is kicking in, albeit spottily," Veker realized as he read through his own tricorder. "Frek is saying that replicating someone else's path without considering your own strengths can lead to dissatisfaction."
Frek then began a slow, undulating move toward the exit, opening them to the corridors. "Yyrrrp rpppp."
"He says that Doctor Lox's genetic-merging techniques are not quite there yet and that learning about your own authenticity would be more rewarding in the long run," Veker continued. "Also, he is off to find quarters."
Both Xyrenia and Veker watched the doors close after Frek's exit, leaving a sickening mess of goo all over the carpet. "Ugh. I suppose he's right and, since the synth ban prevents DOT-9 usage, I now have to carpet-clean this up myself," the Doctor groused to her own self-inflicted misfortune while pulling out a standard Starfleet issue rug vacuum.
"You mean we have to carpet-clean this up, together," Veker corrected as he smiled and pulled a second rug vacuum out of the same wall compartment.
After realizing his generosity, Xyrenia smiled back as they got to work. "Thank you, Mr. Veker. Kelpiens really are the loomed-floor covering care specialist, gentle giants they say you are."
Author's notes: This is an entry for the Ad Astra weekly challenges and continues in the year 2393. This was written in October 2024.
Ad Astra Weekly Challenge #61: Welcome to the fall solstice in the northern hemisphere! That means day and night fall equally. It's also a time of the year for the end of summer and beginning of autumn; you can take that as being a sad thing or a cozy thing! Any which way, the prompt can be interpreted however you like, as ever! Write between 100 and 800 words on the theme of equal parts of light and dark and, when you add it to the challenge collection on the archive, tag it Weekly Challenge: Equal Parts Light and Dark.
Ad Astra: Weekly Challenge #61
"Equal Parts Light and Dark"
The Prometheus-class U.S.S. Phoenix-X moved expertly through space, dodging nothing with no objects in their way.
"That's some good flying, Lieutenant Hachi," complimented Commander Seifer from the command chair as the Bridge crew were at the ready.
The Coridanite helmsmen nodded whilst in mid-maneuver. "Thank you, sir. I trained countless hours for this. Didn't waste my life at all."
"You guys ever think we're a little too cheery at times? Is it because we're striving for utopia?" Tong queried from tactical. "The fact I've got an itchy trigger finger this morning has nothing to do with it."
Veker shrugged from science. "Perhaps you're right. Yesterday, I complimented Kortos for aggressively shoving me aside to make room on the tubrolift."
"Dude. Minus two points for engaging in push-over," Seifer criticized. "But, you're all right about this. Starfleet enacted an excessive light demeanor protocol, for everyone, to compensate our dwindled exploration objectives."
BOB shook his fist. "Curse that Mars attack that made everything dark. Well, at least there is a balance." Then, noticing, he pointed, "Hey. Did you take us close to Cardassian space?"
KZZTT! All of a sudden, a cluster of several small dark-yellow devices moved toward the Phoenix-X and half of those clung onto the hull. A few of them exploded. "They're Cardassian hunter probes!" reported Veker in shock.
"The creatures are born into realization of their dark, dark demise," came the sudden appearance of a Cardassian hologram, in full military uniform, upon the Bridge. "I am the Prin hologram, of Silaran Prin."
Elly took position and trained her phaser. "Right. Silaran was the guy, twenty years ago, who killed Major Kira's Occupation resistance group and tried to steal the O'Brien's baby from her pregnancy."
"They learn I was his decoy hologram, whom Kira fired at, and that phasers have no effect on me," Prin continued. "Silaran drilled me with ideologies and purpose, so that those in the dark must be converted to light."
BLAM! The rest of the clung-hunter probes exploded on the hull, forming breeches. "Shields up. Target the probe cluster." The Phoenix-X stopped and took its own position. "The Federation may be in a dark place, but how is killing us not just making it darker? Ohhh, if I had a Vulcan here, your logic would be done for." And then, "Tong, trigger finger."
"Yes!" Tong slipped as he fired phasers at the cluster. After vapourizing a few, the cluster was quick to disperse out of the way and swarm the ship. "Having trouble getting a lock. The finger is not triggering. I repeat, the finger is not triggering."
Several more probes moved to the Phoenix-X shields and exploded, weakening them, while the cluster replenished its size through self-replication. "Dammit, Prin. What if we told you we were sneaking in a few exploration missions despite Starfleet protocol? We found a colony of Evora living about with no headwear. You see, we're so imperfect, our expedition and survey obsession outweighs Federation folly."
"You know you're just conceding to my point of view?" Prin deadpanned. "Damn! The creatures broke the third-person narrative. This breech is acceptable. You have proven light in the darkness."
To that, all the hunter probes disengaged from the shields and Prin's projected form disintegrated. The Phoenix-X watched as the probe cluster flew off into space. "Commander, what's even the point of me if the only answer ever is to solve our problems through talking?" Tong disapproved. "Oh well. I got some in."
"You are needed, Tong," the Klingon exchange officer Kortos reassured as he entered the Bridge. "As for you, Lieutenant Commander Veker. I have come to apologize for shoving you on the tubrolift the other day."
The Kelpien countered, "petaQ!" before reactively force-palming Kortos with enough impact to knock the Klingon off his feet. "Oh, crap. I had that in the barrel and was not thinking."
"The point is, it doesn't matter how dark things are, we determine our own version of light, be it exploration or excessive, over-the-top, illegal killing," Seifer concluded, before realizing. "Wait. Not that second thing."
Hachi perked. "And I learned my flying was not actually good. Back toward Federation patrolling, it is," he said as the Phoenix-X turned and low-warped through space. "I just pressed a button. I did not need training for this."
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A problem with my storytelling I only occasionally worry about... Thanks!! rbs
Talking out problems is sooo pretentious.
Glad you did. Thanks for the read!
Author's notes: This was written as part of the Trek BBS September/October 2024 Challenge and takes place in 2393.
September/October 2024 Challenge: It's said that everyone has their price, that one thing that they would trade absolutely anything for, or stop at nothing to get. For this challenge, what is that price, and what would your character(s) do when offered the chance to have their deepest desire? Maybe a "friend" is involved, a superior officer, a Q (or similar being of your own devising), or perhaps it's Ol' Scratch himself looking to make a deal. Or maybe the deal is made, and the character(s) are dealing with the aftermath, and perhaps a bit of buyer's remorse?
Trek BBS: September/October 2024 Challenge
"For a Kingdom, and for Less: Face/On"
The Prometheus-class U.S.S. Phoenix-X sifted, sleekly and surreptitiously through silent space while Operations officer Lieutenant Briggs took on a long-range communication, at the back of the Bridge, with an older man: a human, that looked just like Briggs— albeit, decades older.
"Walter, I have to do this to make things right. When you found me in that salvage, all that time ago, I took your form without your consent," Briggs pleaded. "I became you and haven't been able to shake your form ever since."
The older gentlemen chuckled. "You don't owe me anything, Briggs. You're a Silver Blood who was discovering what life was. My place in your development was an honour for me. You know the Federation seeks out new yous and new yous in groups, right? That’s what that was." He shifted. "Besides, you can't possibly want to tap the toxic plethora that is that mad Doctor Lox? I heard he once medically assisted a Caitian and an Antican with breeding?"
"He did, and I read their kids are pure, unrelenting forces of zoomies. In fact, ever since joining the Phoenix-X, I've been learning more of the unwarranted research Lox took part in when he served here regularly," Briggs began. "He's so out-there that he’s that chance we all want, to be granted our deepest desires. I'm going to use his metagenic research to finally alter my form and my face to something iconically new!"
---
The following fortnight, Doctor Lox took the Class-2 shuttle Uzumaki from his regular posting all the way to the Phoenix-X for his this-month’s scheduled work week there. He soon found himself in Sickbay with Doctor Xyrenia, both in orange surgery garb, prepared to perform over a bio-bedded Briggs.
"I’m here to support bio-chronometric research, not get my hands dirty in biomimetic goo," the cranky old, grey-haired human grumbled while fitting his gloves. "Also, why are you venerating me, like some kind of immeasurable source of medically absorbable bounty?"
Briggs squinted. "Just accept what you are, a genie-like mad scientist. You once unleashed a genetic plague upon Trill society so that they'd have spots instead of ridges."
"Oh, snap!?" Xyrenia double-took in abject realization of her colleague.
Lox sighed to the both of them. "That is classified, as is all my species-wide genomodulating discharges— especially the Klingon ones."
"Understood, Doctor. But this metamorphosis will be the final, immeasurable steps into a satisfyingly profound longing for individuality," Briggs explained. "Also, I want a little bit off the sides? As well as the top?"
After a moment of shared looks, both doctors nodded and began their acquiesced-medical punctures into scientific impossibility, rigging the biobed into manipulating Briggs' biomimetic matrix like never before. It wouldn't be long before the Silver Blood patient would awaken to find the procedure a complete success.
"By the Greek gods who turned out to be real," he awed in alluring shock at seeing a new face in his handed hand mirror. "I'm as brand new as any Enterprise refit! Cue me for Decker conflicts and Spacedock One escapes."
---
Entering the Bridge, Briggs found the senior staff already engaged in an onscreen confrontation with an Edison-class U.S.S. Vincennes. Displayed, were at-the-ready human Augments in torn civilian clothing.
"Your rein of terror ends here, Vincennes," Commander Seifer announced. "Being hijacked by a bunch of genetically modified maniacs? Talk about starship shortcomings. You were built to be crewed by Starfleet personnel."
The lead Augment, Jengo, blinked, confused. "Are— are you talking to the ship? We're standing right here. Also, all your base are belong to us!" Then, shaking his head. "Damn our genetically modified syntax. It glitches sometimes. I meant, Starbase 55 will be ours. The thing that's right behind you."
"Sorry, I'm late," Briggs interrupted as the Phoenix-X repositioned itself on guard of Starbase 55. "I literally just got out of surgery."
Seifer nodded. "All good, Briggs. Maybe you can use your powers of Operations to make sense of that ship's awkward crew deficiencies?" But, before they could go on, everyone took notice of Briggs' new form: Khan Noonien Singh.
"Holy stabby hell's heart!" security officer Elly nearly jumped. "Are you doing a thing? A terrible, terrible thing?"
Veker arched a brow. "She's right in her abject shock. You look like Khan, but instead of a man of South Asian descent, you're a man of Spanish descent."
"What!?" Briggs ran over to a console and pulled up visual records of Khan. "I was so blinded by change-passion, I didn't even realize who I was changed into? A fanatic mired by the cognitive dissonance of a legendary performance??"
Lox stepped out of the shadows, whilst eating a small bag of chips. "I'll field this fieldable branch of inquiry. You see, we used Federation artificial intelligence to source facial features from the trillions upon trillions of people from our past to modify Briggs but, due to his biomimetic feedback, we inadvertently derived the parameters of an historical genocidal maniac of mullet proportions."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Jengo argued. "That’s our holy leader and our purpose you're demonizing. We are the Children of Kahn and, as such, we know that even in some alternate universes, he was completely Causcasian with a British accent. Totally contusive of the colonialism that we absolutely love! Genetic mashing is our bread and butter. As such, we would absolutely welcome Briggs as a pseudo societal figure head. Like the whole Kahless thing the Klingons did."
The Lieutenant tried pulling his Ricardo Montalbán-looking face apart in the stress of it all. "No, no, no. I can't be this, and I can't join you for genocidal adventures either. True that Silver Bloods only can take on the forms of others, but the regular man that I was a replicant of was far more honourable than this racebending exterminationist— His incredible performance notwithstanding."
"Agreed. It seems when emulation is necessary, who you pattern does matter. Briggs, initiate multi-vector separation," Commander Seifer ordered to a snapping-out-of-it Operations officer. In seconds, the Phoenix-X detached in place, spreading its now-three-parts in tactical readiness.
Jengo jumped back in shock. "How dare you task us with your Prometheus-class nonsense! Superiority still has its place in everyday society. We are a staple adversary and being at space odds like this could only be sorted by someone of our leader's brilliance. We'll be back."
"Kind of feels like we're making enemies every week now," Hachi observed as the Vincennes warped out of there and the Phoenix-X was reintegrated. Briggs was then approached by Doctors Lox and Xyrenia.
Briggs sighed. "And I refuse to be one of them. If my biomimetic interference prevents proper slider randomization, can you just put me back to the way I was, Doctor?" He looked off. "Walter was the right choice from the start, and authenticity can't be repackaged."
"I knew Lox's methods may have resulted in unwarranted hijinks, so this highly illegal bio-mimetic gel should revert you to your previous form," Xyrenia said as she injected Briggs with a hypospray that then turned him back to his younger Walter-self. "But, be forewarned, it'll turn you Khan and back every injection."
The Operations officer looked at his hands, now to normal. "So, this transgression is fittingly a part of me forever. A perpetual reminder to be careful what you wish for. Sorry about the over exaltation, Doctor."
"I've always wanted to be more Kirk-like," Seifer pondered out loud. "Imagine the alien space-women I could land, on top of strategically torn shirts. A man of his visage, coming in and saving the day on foreign worlds presumed of incompetence is precisely what we're all about." He pointed. "To the operating table!"
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That explains a lot... Thanks!! rbs
Haha, there's no better role model.
Yup! Whenever you notice something like that, a plague did it.
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