Star Trek: Waystation
Episode 1: Prime Real Estate
There were stars to be seen, but they were quite dim. All except for one, that is. There, surrounded by an inexplicable void hundreds of light years larger than normal distance between star systems, was what the Federation scientists classified as a Rogue Star. Officially it was referred to as celestial body A-340.552, but those scientists had only seen it through the imaging sensors of their observation arrays. They knew little about the celestial body, and that is how it mistakenly became classified as a rogue star.
A rogue star has a velocity contrary to the natural rotation of the galaxy. Celestial body A-340.552 moved in a sinister harmony with the rest of what the humans called the Milky Way. Maybe it was because the star lay outside the boundaries of the Federation, maybe it was because the war with the Dominion that had been raging when the rogue star had been observed, classified, and filed away. Whatever the reason, the first pair of eyes to see it unassisted by technology belonged to a Ferengi whose entire holdings were contained within a pathetic shuttle equipped with a faulty navigation system.
He could see stars, but they were dim, with the exception of the one standing in all its brilliance before him. And orbiting it, unnoticed by the Federation scientists, was a metallic object containing a renewable artificial oxygen environment, a power source compatible with alpha quadrant technology, and best of all: location, location, location.
**********************
The shrill alarm yanked Vince into consciousness. He sat up quick and took a minute to get his bearings. He then pressed the control next to his bed and flopped back into his pillow. He really should have set it for an hour later, seven was too early. He closed his eyes.
Fifteen minutes later, the alarm went off again. This was getting tiresome. Vince hit the snooze again, but this time sleep escaped him and he lumbered out of bed. He wiped the sleep out of his eyes and ran his fingers threw his sort curls of black hair.
He walked over to his dresser and caught a view of himself in the mirror and slapped his paunch. He would have to do something about that, but not today. He opened the dresser, picked out a shirt, and pulled it on. He cursed under his breath when he realized he had no clean trousers.
He picked up the pair he has worn a day earlier off the floor and put them on. His comm. was still in his pocket. He set it next to him as he sat on the bed and laced up his shoes. The comm. automatically downloaded the latest figures and beeped when it was complete. Vince glanced at the screen, bracing himself for the bad news. Odd, he though. He added another sum to the tally and listed it as ‘Other Sales’. Were these numbers right?
Vince kissed the comm. He had done it. Not on schedule and not on budget, but none of that mattered now. The Rogue Star Orbital was out of the red and into the black. Even someone as incompetent as his boss Gleb could appreciate that they had turned a profit. Vince was actually looking forward to the next subspace transmission from the fat little troll of a Ferengi.
“Orange Juice.” He commanded the replicator as he slipped the PADD into his pocket. The device responded with an unpromising bleep. On any other day this would have deflated Vince’s good humor, but not today, he had done it. He hit the replicator with his hand, and a glass finally materialized.
“Vince.” A female voice called as he left his quarters.
Vince turned, but did not stop walking. “Jendi, looking beautiful, is it the hair? Did you do something different with the hair?”
Jendi’s hair was tied up loosely with a strip of fabric, though some stray strands hung free, just enough to hide behind when she looked down. While not the most flattering hairdo, it did a fair job of displaying the dark brown markings of a Trill running down either side of her neck. The hair also somehow matched her frumpy rust orange jumpsuit. She self-consciously tucked some of the stray strands behind her ear, and tried to fight off a small smile. “Oh, uh, thank you. No, though, not really.” She said as she matched Vince’s long stride.
“I’m just messing with you, what do got today?” Vince asked, raising his glass of juice to his mouth.
The smile left her lips and she felt overwhelmingly plain again. “There have been reports coming in from all over the station that the replicators—“
“Lord that is foul!” Vince cried as he spewed juice out of his mouth. He gagged and spit on to the floor, then looked dubiously at his glass. “It’s kinda brown. And that taste, that taste is… I dunno, you taste it.” He offered the glass to Jendi.
“Chocolate.” She said, gently pushing it away.
“That’s it, chocolate and orange juice, how did you know? Did I get some on you?”
“For some reason the replicators are putting chocolate into everything. I’ve gotten two pages of complaints in the past hour.” She held out a PADD. Vince failed to take it.
He pulled a comm. out of his pocket. “Banho, you there?”
“Veence?” The shrill voice of the Rogue Star Orbital’s engineer replied. “Veence, is dat you?”
“Sure is Banho. Why does everything taste like chocolate?”
“OOOh… Weeell, Rizzo knows how much eeverybody likes dee shocolate, and she want to geeve eeverybody what dey like.”
“Yeah, that’s really cute how you made R-S-O into Rizzo, and you treat the station like it’s a person, but I need an engineer, not a physiatrist, just get the food tasting like it should.” Vince sighed and dropped his glass of chocolate orange juice into a trash disintegrator.
“These were a good idea.” He said. “Remind me to give a raise to whoever thought of these if we ever make any money.”
“They were my idea.” Jendi replied.
“Well good news, then.” Vince pulled the PADD out of his pocket and handed it to her. “We made money this month. So once Gleb pays us out of this hole of dept, we might be able to afford that raise.”
Jendi took the PADD and scanned over the data. “This doesn’t make sense.”
“Let’s go on down to the mall and see if Dell has anything that doesn’t taste like chocolate.” Vince snatched the PADD back.
“Oh, uh, that reminds me…. I have some bad news.” Jendi said.
“We made money this month, even Gleb will be happy.”
“Gleb… He sent a message, he’s sort of on his way.”
“Here?” Vince asked.
Jendi nodded. “Today.”
“Today? The trip takes two weeks at high warp from the edge of the void. When did he leave?”
She shrugged. “The message didn’t say, only that he would arrive today.”
“You know what? I don’t even care. I can’t wait to tell that big eared Ferengi freak that I actually made money for him.”
“That’s not the bad news.”
“It’s not? There’s something worse than Gleb coming?”
“Not exactly worse, I guess.”
“Then it can wait until after breakfast. We’re in the black, we should celebrate. Let’s go down to the mall, I’ll buy you breakfast. That kid of yours on solids yet? I’ll spring for her too.”
“Tama is six.”
“Good, she won’t eat that much.” Vince liked good news. He stopped and sniffed the air. “Do you smell something?”
“Well, actually…”
Vince smelled again, inhaling more deeply. The aroma made him wince. He couldn’t decide what was worse, the taste of chocolate orange juice or the wonderful new smell he had discovered. “It smells like rotting hair.”
“Vince, I really should tell you...”
Vince walked through the door to the mall and came to a stop.
Episode 1: Prime Real Estate
There were stars to be seen, but they were quite dim. All except for one, that is. There, surrounded by an inexplicable void hundreds of light years larger than normal distance between star systems, was what the Federation scientists classified as a Rogue Star. Officially it was referred to as celestial body A-340.552, but those scientists had only seen it through the imaging sensors of their observation arrays. They knew little about the celestial body, and that is how it mistakenly became classified as a rogue star.
A rogue star has a velocity contrary to the natural rotation of the galaxy. Celestial body A-340.552 moved in a sinister harmony with the rest of what the humans called the Milky Way. Maybe it was because the star lay outside the boundaries of the Federation, maybe it was because the war with the Dominion that had been raging when the rogue star had been observed, classified, and filed away. Whatever the reason, the first pair of eyes to see it unassisted by technology belonged to a Ferengi whose entire holdings were contained within a pathetic shuttle equipped with a faulty navigation system.
He could see stars, but they were dim, with the exception of the one standing in all its brilliance before him. And orbiting it, unnoticed by the Federation scientists, was a metallic object containing a renewable artificial oxygen environment, a power source compatible with alpha quadrant technology, and best of all: location, location, location.
**********************
The shrill alarm yanked Vince into consciousness. He sat up quick and took a minute to get his bearings. He then pressed the control next to his bed and flopped back into his pillow. He really should have set it for an hour later, seven was too early. He closed his eyes.
Fifteen minutes later, the alarm went off again. This was getting tiresome. Vince hit the snooze again, but this time sleep escaped him and he lumbered out of bed. He wiped the sleep out of his eyes and ran his fingers threw his sort curls of black hair.
He walked over to his dresser and caught a view of himself in the mirror and slapped his paunch. He would have to do something about that, but not today. He opened the dresser, picked out a shirt, and pulled it on. He cursed under his breath when he realized he had no clean trousers.
He picked up the pair he has worn a day earlier off the floor and put them on. His comm. was still in his pocket. He set it next to him as he sat on the bed and laced up his shoes. The comm. automatically downloaded the latest figures and beeped when it was complete. Vince glanced at the screen, bracing himself for the bad news. Odd, he though. He added another sum to the tally and listed it as ‘Other Sales’. Were these numbers right?
Vince kissed the comm. He had done it. Not on schedule and not on budget, but none of that mattered now. The Rogue Star Orbital was out of the red and into the black. Even someone as incompetent as his boss Gleb could appreciate that they had turned a profit. Vince was actually looking forward to the next subspace transmission from the fat little troll of a Ferengi.
“Orange Juice.” He commanded the replicator as he slipped the PADD into his pocket. The device responded with an unpromising bleep. On any other day this would have deflated Vince’s good humor, but not today, he had done it. He hit the replicator with his hand, and a glass finally materialized.
“Vince.” A female voice called as he left his quarters.
Vince turned, but did not stop walking. “Jendi, looking beautiful, is it the hair? Did you do something different with the hair?”
Jendi’s hair was tied up loosely with a strip of fabric, though some stray strands hung free, just enough to hide behind when she looked down. While not the most flattering hairdo, it did a fair job of displaying the dark brown markings of a Trill running down either side of her neck. The hair also somehow matched her frumpy rust orange jumpsuit. She self-consciously tucked some of the stray strands behind her ear, and tried to fight off a small smile. “Oh, uh, thank you. No, though, not really.” She said as she matched Vince’s long stride.
“I’m just messing with you, what do got today?” Vince asked, raising his glass of juice to his mouth.
The smile left her lips and she felt overwhelmingly plain again. “There have been reports coming in from all over the station that the replicators—“
“Lord that is foul!” Vince cried as he spewed juice out of his mouth. He gagged and spit on to the floor, then looked dubiously at his glass. “It’s kinda brown. And that taste, that taste is… I dunno, you taste it.” He offered the glass to Jendi.
“Chocolate.” She said, gently pushing it away.
“That’s it, chocolate and orange juice, how did you know? Did I get some on you?”
“For some reason the replicators are putting chocolate into everything. I’ve gotten two pages of complaints in the past hour.” She held out a PADD. Vince failed to take it.
He pulled a comm. out of his pocket. “Banho, you there?”
“Veence?” The shrill voice of the Rogue Star Orbital’s engineer replied. “Veence, is dat you?”
“Sure is Banho. Why does everything taste like chocolate?”
“OOOh… Weeell, Rizzo knows how much eeverybody likes dee shocolate, and she want to geeve eeverybody what dey like.”
“Yeah, that’s really cute how you made R-S-O into Rizzo, and you treat the station like it’s a person, but I need an engineer, not a physiatrist, just get the food tasting like it should.” Vince sighed and dropped his glass of chocolate orange juice into a trash disintegrator.
“These were a good idea.” He said. “Remind me to give a raise to whoever thought of these if we ever make any money.”
“They were my idea.” Jendi replied.
“Well good news, then.” Vince pulled the PADD out of his pocket and handed it to her. “We made money this month. So once Gleb pays us out of this hole of dept, we might be able to afford that raise.”
Jendi took the PADD and scanned over the data. “This doesn’t make sense.”
“Let’s go on down to the mall and see if Dell has anything that doesn’t taste like chocolate.” Vince snatched the PADD back.
“Oh, uh, that reminds me…. I have some bad news.” Jendi said.
“We made money this month, even Gleb will be happy.”
“Gleb… He sent a message, he’s sort of on his way.”
“Here?” Vince asked.
Jendi nodded. “Today.”
“Today? The trip takes two weeks at high warp from the edge of the void. When did he leave?”
She shrugged. “The message didn’t say, only that he would arrive today.”
“You know what? I don’t even care. I can’t wait to tell that big eared Ferengi freak that I actually made money for him.”
“That’s not the bad news.”
“It’s not? There’s something worse than Gleb coming?”
“Not exactly worse, I guess.”
“Then it can wait until after breakfast. We’re in the black, we should celebrate. Let’s go down to the mall, I’ll buy you breakfast. That kid of yours on solids yet? I’ll spring for her too.”
“Tama is six.”
“Good, she won’t eat that much.” Vince liked good news. He stopped and sniffed the air. “Do you smell something?”
“Well, actually…”
Vince smelled again, inhaling more deeply. The aroma made him wince. He couldn’t decide what was worse, the taste of chocolate orange juice or the wonderful new smell he had discovered. “It smells like rotting hair.”
“Vince, I really should tell you...”
Vince walked through the door to the mall and came to a stop.
