Sadly, there were no entries May/June challenge so this thread continues with the winning entry for July/August - "Lies! All Lies!"
by ColdFusion180
“When you said you’d get me in a captain’s chair, this isn’t exactly what I imagined,” Boimler sighed.
“Dude, what are you complaining about?” Mariner looked at him. “That’s an official Starfleet command chair you’re sitting in right now, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, in the captain’s yacht,” Boimler indicated their surroundings. Rutherford was seated at a secondary control station while Mariner manned the helm. “There’s really nothing special about this chair. It’s just another standard-issue seat. Which doesn’t even matter since I’m not a captain.”
“Well, technically you are the senior officer here,” Mariner pointed out. “And tradition dictates that whoever commands a vessel, regardless of rank, is referred to as the Captain.”
“Well…” Boimler thought for a moment. “I suppose…”
“Plus, I signed this baby out in your name,” Mariner smirked patting a control panel. “So you’ll be responsible for any scrapes, nicks, malfunctions or damages incurred to it during our little jaunt.”
“You what?!” Boimler yelped. “Aggghhh, not again! You tricked me! I thought we were taking the captain’s yacht out for legitimate use, not another joyride!”
“Hey, relax Boims. This isn’t a joyride,” Mariner assured him. “This outing has official permission, clearance, authorization and everything,”
“Yeah,” Rutherford nodded. “Lieutenant Commander Billups had me install a whole bunch of new updates and features to the captain’s yacht. I just need a certified pilot or two to help test them out.”
“See, Boims? It’s all good,” Mariner grinned. “Besides, we couldn’t pass up a golden opportunity like this. We had to seize the day and grab it while we had the chance.”
“And because you needed a way to get off the ship before Ransom found out you trapped him with a fake romantic partner on the holodeck,” Boimler gave her a look.
“That too,” Mariner didn’t miss a beat. “Hope Ranny doesn’t get too attached to the hologram I set him up with in there. Thought it might be kinda hard since I programmed his date to be an overly amorous Sheliak…”
“Oh boy. Sounds like Ransom is going to be making another pain-filled visit to Sickbay,” Rutherford whistled. “Speaking of which, are you sure we shouldn’t have invited Tendi to come with us? I know there’s no onboard medical suite for her to run diagnostics on, but she could have done something like monitor life support readings or take a turn as a pilot…”
“NO!” Boimler and Mariner yelled.
“I was just asking,” Rutherford cringed at their outburst. “Sorry.”
“Ruthy, do us and yourself a favor,” Mariner twitched. “Never give Tendi an opportunity to pilot anything larger than an anti-grav. Ever!”
“Okey-dokey,” Rutherford blinked. “Uh, why?”
“Trust me. You don’t want to know,” Boimler shuddered. “You’ll have fewer nightmares…” He trailed off as an indicator light began to blink. “Hold on. We’re receiving a distress call. Audio only.”
“Well what are ya waiting for, Boims?” Mariner scolded. “Let’s hear it.”
“This the private…ssszzzttt…transport shuttle Ykatza calling any vessel within range…ssskkkttt…” A staticky, panicked female voice crackled over the comm. “Life support failing…whzzztt…require immediate assistance…ssszzzkkk…!”
“The signal is breaking up,” Boimler frowned checking the communication readings. “It’s very weak.”
“Never fear. It’s Lower Decks to the rescue!” Mariner grinned quickly tracing the distress call’s point of origin. “Looks like we’re gonna give the captain’s yacht a real test!”
“Uh, shouldn’t we contact the Cerritos first?” Rutherford asked. “Or let them respond to the distress call?”
“Na. The distress signal is too weak. They probably can’t even receive it,” Mariner waved. “Besides, they’re still busy inspecting that boring old deuridium mining facility in this star system’s asteroid belt. Don’t worry. We got this.”
“Mariner’s right,” Boimler agreed. “There’s no time to lose.”
“‘Attaway, Boims. You’re really making that ol’ captain’s chair proud now,” Mariner smiled. “Course laid in. Waiting on your order ‘Captain’.”
“Okay,” Boimler couldn’t resist a grin. “Engage!”
“Alright!” Mariner whooped as the captain’s yacht leapt to warp. “Now you’re talking!”
“There’s the shuttle,” Rutherford reported a few minutes later. He quickly scanned the slightly-smaller-than-runabout-sized vessel. “Looks like their engines are offline. I’m detecting a small plasma leak in their starboard nacelle.”
“I’m reading three lifesigns aboard,” Boimler worked his control panel. “Opening a channel…”
“Wait. Hold on a second,” Mariner turned to Rutherford. “Hey, toss me your pip, will ya? I’ll give it back later.”
“Uh, okey-dokey,” Rutherford blinked doing so.
“Thanks,” Mariner smiled. “Okay, Boims. Hold still.”
“Hey, what are you doing?” Boimler yelped as Mariner pinned her and Rutherford’s ensign pips onto his collar. “Get off me!”
“Calm down, man. Just sprucing you up a bit,” Mariner soothed. “Hmmm, still need one more.” She reached into her uniform and pulled out another pip. “Ah, perfect.”
“Where did you get that?” Boimler gawked.
“Eh, just a leftover souvenir from one of my many demotions,” Mariner waved as she pinned the fourth pip onto his collar.
“Wow,” Rutherford blinked in surprise. “Do you always carry an extra pip around with you?”
“Sometimes,” Mariner shrugged taking her seat. “Never know when it might come in handy.”
“That explains how you keep getting into the ‘Lieutenant’s Only’ floating game of Roladan Wild Draw on Douglas Station,” Boimler rolled his eyes. “But not why you’re wasting time pinning multiple pips on me.”
“Hey, you’re the acting captain, man. Just making sure you look the part,” Mariner smirked tapping her console. “Okay, channel open.”
“Ykatza, this is Ensi…ooof!” Boimler gasped as Mariner elbowed him in the ribs. “Er, this is Captain Brad Boimler of the U.S.S. Cerritos. We received your distress call and are standing by to beam you aboard.”
“Oh, thank you!” A shaky image of a young female Deltan wearing a revealing skin-tight bodysuit appeared on a screen. “Are you a real Starfleet captain?”
“Uh, well…” Boimler fidgeted nervously.
“Of course he is,” Mariner interjected quickly. “This is the captain’s yacht. My buddy here is wearing captain pips. Who else would he be but the captain?”
“Who indeed?” Rutherford snickered.
“Excellent,” The young woman gave a predatory smile. “That’s just what I needed to know.”
“Don’t worry, ma’am. We’ll have you all out of there in a…” Boimler was cut off as he was suddenly whisked away by an unfamiliar transporter beam.
“Huh?” Mariner did a take as the young Deltan woman abruptly disappeared from the screen. “Hey, what the…?”
BOOM!
“Ahhh!” Rutherford yelped as the yacht suddenly lurched and shook violently. “The shuttle just opened fire on us! Direct hit to our nacelles!”
“What? Are they crazy?” Mariner quickly raised the yacht’s shields. “Man, I’ve heard of ungrateful rescue victims before, but this is ridiculous!”
“Their starboard nacelle is no longer leaking plasma,” Rutheford reported. “They’re powering up their engines.”
“How the heck is that possible?” Mariner glanced back at him. “I thought you said that thing was dead in space.”
“I did! They must’ve been faking it,” Rutherford said right before the opposing shuttle disappeared from sight. “Aw, man! They’ve gone to warp!”
“And they got Boimler!” Mariner cursed. “That lying bald, beauteous bimbo! I’ll tear her shiny yet abnormally attractive head off!”
“I’m having trouble detecting the shuttle on sensors,” Rutherford frowned. “They must have modulated their plasma injectors beforehand to suppress their warp signature.”
“Find them, Ruthy,” Mariner ordered. “We gotta track ‘em long enough for the Cerritos to pick up their trail. We sure can’t go after them with a set of damaged nacelles.”
“Yes we can. Our nacelles are fine,” Rutherford said proudly. “One of the upgrades I did was to the yacht’s structural integrity field. I boosted power to it around the engines right before we were hit.”
“Really?” Mariner blinked. “Alright! Way to go!” Her hands quickly flew over the helm. “Let’s go get Boimler back!”
“Okey-dokey!” Rutherford smiled as the yacht swiftly set off in pursuit.
“Where are you, you hot, hairless little temptress?” Mariner sing-songed while running a set of continuous short- and long-range scans. “Come out, come out so I can strangle you with my bare hands before beating you to a pulp…”
“Hey, I think I found them,” Rutherford said studying some readings. “They must have realized they’ve been detected. They seem to have switched to using a magneton pulse to mask their warp trail.”
“Oh yeah?” Mariner raised an eyebrow. “Well two can play that game. Start having us emit half a dozen warp shadows. Make ‘em guess which one is us.”
“Okay,” Rutherford quickly did so. “I think it’s working. They’re changing course trying to shake us off…uh oh. I’m losing them again. Now they’re using a randomized EM field to mask their warp signature.”
“That won’t save them,” Mariner declared red-lining the warp engines. “I’ll chase them around the moons of Nibia and around the Antares maelstrom and around perdition's flames before I give them up!”
“Aha! Found them again!” Rutherford chirped. “I’m detecting elevated plasma readings bearing one eight mark three four two. They must be using a scattering field to hide from our sensors.”
“Can you penetrate it?” Mariner asked.
“Trying. Attempting to compensate…there! Got it!” Rutherford grinned. “We’re gaining on them…oh no,” He frowned. “Their ion trail is dissipating quickly. They must be using a polaron field to cover their engine emissions.”
“Ha! We got ‘em now! Amateurs!” Mariner crowed. “Try scanning for polarized EM signatures.”
“Scanning,” Rutherford tensely watched a display. “There! We’re closing. We’ll catch up to them in sixty seconds…” The yacht suddenly shook violently. “Oh man, they’re firing on us again!”
“Oh no they didn’t!” Mariner hissed looking very ticked off. She immediately opened a channel. “Ykatza or whoever the heck you losers are! Cease fire and shut your engines down or we’ll blow you out of the stars!”
“Are you crazy?” Rutherford yelped as Mariner muted the channel. “We can’t fire on them. The captain’s yacht doesn’t have weapons!”
“Yeah, but they don’t know that,” Mariner pointed out. “Use a combination of high-energy thoron fields and duranium shadows to make it look like we’re armed to the teeth.”
“Okey-dokey,” Rutherford swiftly tapped on a panel. “We now have a dozen phony photon torpedo signatures armed and ready for non-launch.”
“Great. Let’s make ‘em really sweat,” Mariner grinning unmuting the comm. “Ykatza, this is your last warning. Stop now or we’ll blow your aft off,” She then delayed closing the channel while stage whispering. “Tactical, activate the crimson force field! Deploy corbormite armor!”
“I think they’re buying it,” Rutherford reported. “They’ve powered down their weapons systems and are diverting more power to their engines.”
“Alright!” Mariner grinned. “Now all we have to do is knock ‘em out of warp…” She blinked for a second. “Uh, Ruthy? How do we knock a shuttle out of warp without using weapons?”
“Um,” Rutherford thought for a moment. “Expose their ship to multiflux gamma radiation? Na, there’s no way the captain’s yacht can do that. Aha! The upgrades I did to the navigational array! I can reconfigure it to generate an inverse graviton burst. That will disrupt their shuttle’s warp field and force it out of warp.”
“Great. Do it,” Mariner ordered.
“Okey-dokey,” Rutherford quickly worked his console. “But what about their shields? We can’t beam Boimler back with them up.”
“Don’t worry. The second they drop out of warp I’ll fire a tachyon burst to force them to reset their shield harmonics,” Mariner said. “Prepare to beam Boimler out when they do.”
“Right,” Rutherford nodded. “Initiating inverse graviton burst…now!”
“They’ve dropped out of warp,” Mariner confirmed. “Firing tachyon burst.”
“It’s not working,” Rutherford frowned. “Try firing again.” Mariner did so. “Again.”
“C’mon, what’s taking so long?” Mariner griped firing off several more bursts.
“Okay, they’re resetting their shield harmonics,” Rutherford reported. “Lower our shields. Energizing.” A startled-looking Boimler rematerialized in the yacht’s small transporter alcove. “Okay, we got him!”
“Alright! Good work, Ruthy!” Mariner grinned quickly raising the shields once again. “Now we just gotta avoid being shot at or blown up until the remaining gravitons dissipate.”
“I don’t think so,” Boimler suddenly pulled out a phaser and pointed it at Mariner. “Bring this ship to a stop and power down the weapons.”
“Huh?” Rutherford blinked at Boimler in surprise. “Hey, man. What are you doing?”
“Boims, are you nuts?” Mariner shot him a stunned look. “Put that thing away before you hurt yourself. Or more importantly, me!”
“I said stop the ship,” Boimler coldly pressed the phaser against the back of Mariner’s head. “Now!”
“Ow! Alright, geeze. No need to be pushy,” Mariner winced bring the yacht to a complete halt.
“Good. Now step away from the controls,” Boimler ordered while motioning for Rutherford to do the same. “Hold up your hands and keep them where I can see them.”
“Hey man, what the heck’s gotten into you?” Rutherford asked as he and Mariner moved to stand next to each other. “Is that Deltan lady controlling you somehow?”
“Fool! There never were any Deltans aboard our ship,” Boimler snapped speaking in a much harsher tone. “We used a holofilter to mask our true appearances and play upon your predicable Starfleet inclination to help beautiful, scantily-clad beings in distress.”
“Well, you’re not wrong,” Mariner admitted. “Wait, who exactly are you? A hologram? Shapeshifter?”
“No. We are the Kobliad Rejuvenating Autonomous Cartel,” Boimler sneered. “We help bring vital medical aid to the desperate, suffering and dying members of our species.”
“Translation: you’re criminals who supply black market medical materials to anyone who can pay your price,” Mariner gave him a look.
“That’s one way to put it,” Boimler smirked. “Your starship’s presence and security upgrades to the local mining facility means we can no longer ‘acquire’ deuridium in this sector. But it did allow us to seize your captain as a hostage.”
“What?” Rutherford yelped. “You kidnapped Captain Freeman?”
“Freeman?” Boimler frowned. “I thought your captain’s name was Boimler.”
“It is,” Mariner said quickly while elbowing Rutherford in the ribs. “Nice try attempting to confuse this guy Ruthy, but he’s obviously too smart to be fooled by a pair of poor Starfleet grunts like us.”
“Uh, right,” Rutherford winced rubbing his side. “Wait a second. Kobliads aren’t telepathic. How are you controlling our friend…er, I mean our captain?”
“Coded bioelectrical pulses,” Boimler preened slightly. “I transferred my neural patterns along the glial cells of your captain’s nervous system and easily took control of his simple, weak-minded brain.”
“Eh, can’t say I’m surprised,” Mariner quipped.
“It’s a technique developed by the late, great Rao Vantika,” Possessed Boimler went on. “I was his most trusted assistant. I continued his cellular longevity experiments and greatly refined his revolutionary method of neural pattern transference.”
“Yeah, yeah. Enough with the backstory,” Mariner waved. “So, what’s your plan anyway? Hold us all for a captain’s ransom worth of deuridium?”
“That was our initial intention,” Possessed Boimler admitted. “Well, not you two obviously. Nobody would pay a single Cardassian lek for a pair of dumb, lowly crewpersons like you. You’re not even Starfleet officers!”
“Well, actually…” Rutherford began before being elbowed again by Mariner. “Uh, never mind.”
“Our plan was to hold your captain for ransom until we received a large cargo shipment of deuridium,” Possessed Boimler went on. “Then we’d return him to Starfleet with me in control and use him as a covert asset to ensure a steady, continuous deuridium supply.”
“I gotta admit, that is pretty clever,” Mariner said. “You know, except the part where you tell us all about your sneaky, sinister little plan.”
“Eh, what can I say? I like to brag. I don’t get many opportunities in my line of work,” Possessed Boimler shrugged. “Besides, it’s not going to matter anyway. The original plan was to have one undercover Starfleet asset. Now we will have three!”
“What?” Mariner yelped. “Forget it, creep! I’m nobody’s puppet!”
“You don’t have a choice,” Possessed Boimler grinned aiming the phaser at her.
“Forget it! I’d rather die than be used by some sleazy, brain-possessing scumbag like you!” Mariner declared grabbing Rutherford’s hands. “Ruthy, do your sworn Starfleet duty and kill me!”
“What?!” Rutherford yelped as Mariner began to struggle with him. “Are you crazy? I can’t do that…!”
“Ahhh! Vulcan Death Grip!” Mariner briefly held Rutherford’s spread fingers to her face. She screamed silently for a moment before slumping to the floor in a heap.
“Uh,” Rutherford blinked, confused. “Oops?”
“Ha! Do you really think I’d fall for such an obvious trick?” Possessed Boimler sneered. “You couldn’t have killed that arrogant loudmouth with a Vulcan Death Grip. You’re not Vulcan.”
“Well, no. But my implant is,” Rutherford pointed at it. “See the pointed ear?”
“Really? Hmmm,” Possessed Boimler looked uncertain for a moment before grabbing a tricorder from a nearby supply rack and pointing it at Mariner’s sprawled form. “I don’t believe it. You really did kill her!”
“I did?!” Rutherford cried sinking to kneel at Mariner’s side. “No! Mariner! It was an accident! I didn’t mean it! I’m sorry!”
“Quiet! Get up! No sudden movements,” Possessed Boimler ordered Rutherford with a mixed amount of caution and fear. “Come over here and give me a brief overview on how to operate this vessel. Unless you want to experience a different kind of death grip.”
“F-Fine,” Rutherford choked back a sob as he stood up and slowly made his way to the helm. He sniffed and wiped his eye before pointing to various controls. “Okay, the captain’s yacht is controlled by a single primary main processing core cross-linked with a redundant melacortz ramistat…”
“Fake out!” Mariner suddenly rose up and shot Possessed Boimler with a concealed phaser.
“Huh?” Rutherford yelped as Boimler’s stunned body fell on him. He pushed his limp form aside before staring at his supposedly dead friend. “Mariner?!”
“Nice work playing along, Ruthy,” Mariner smiled getting to her feet. “Just don’t tell Riker you stole his material…accckkk!”
“Mariner!” Rutherford cried hugging her. “You’re alive! You’re alive!”
“Ugh, but I won’t be for long if you keep hugging me,” Mariner gasped. “Leggo, ya big softy!”
“Sorry!” Rutherford sheepishly released her. “But how are you alive? How did you wind up dead? There’s no such thing as a Vulcan Death Grip. Is there?”
“Nope,” Mariner smirked holding up a hypospray. “I secretly shot myself with a short-term neural paralyzer. Simulated death. Enough to fool a tricorder anyway.”
“I see,” Rutherford blinked. “Wait, where did you get a neural paralyzer in the first place?”
“Oh, just something I picked up from Tendi before we left,” Mariner waved taking away Possessed Boimler’s dropped phaser. “Just in case I ran into an escaped Ransom when we got back and needed a way out…”
“Huh?” Rutherford gaped. “A way out from what…?” A chirping comm panel suddenly interrupted him. “Uh oh. It’s the Deltan…I mean, Kobliad shuttle. They’re hailing us.”
“Oh, are they?” Mariner grinned and quickly shoved Boimler’s unconscious body underneath a console. “Okay. Stay out of sight, Ruthy. I’ll handle this.”
“Niltia? What’s going on over there?” A pair of tough-looking Kobliads appeared on a screen. “What’s taking so long…?” They paused seeing Mariner’s unexpected image. “Oh no! It’s some other Starfleeter!”
“Calm down, you dopes. It’s me,” Mariner snapped. “I had to transfer my neural patterns into this body.”
“Huh?” The Kobliads blinked. “You used your backup microscopic neural generator already?”
“Obviously,” Mariner retorted. “Look, there’s been a change of plan. I’ll disable this ship and continue to infiltrate Starfleet using this body. I’ll beam their captain back over to the shuttle so you can continue holding him for ransom.”
“Hmmm, good idea,” The pair of Kobliads nodded. “We’ll build another microscopic neural generator later and arrange to have a different consciousness transferred to him.”
“Whatever. Just lower your shields and stand by to receive their captain,” Mariner grunted before closing the channel.
“Wow, way to fool those guys,” Rutherford stared at Mariner, impressed. “Give me a minute to reinitialize our warp core so we can get out of here before they realize they’ve been tricked.” He quickly took a seat. “Oh man! We pushed the engines too hard. The plasma coolant system is overheated. It will take at least an hour for it to cool down.”
“Figures,” Mariner rolled her eyes. “It’s okay, Ruthy. I’m not quite ready to run from these losers anyway. I want to end this ‘Kidnapping Captain’ plot of theirs before they end up kidnapping a real one.”
“But how? We still don’t have any weapons,” Rutherford pointed out. “And they’ll fire on us in a second if we try getting away at impulse.”
“Don’t worry. I have an idea,” Mariner quickly dug out a medkit from a supply locker and took an exoscalpel from it. She kneeled over Boimler’s prone form and cradled his head in her lap. “Boims is still the acting captain of this ship. And sometimes a captain has to make the ultimate sacrifice…”
continues in next post
What a Tangled Web We Weave
by ColdFusion180
“When you said you’d get me in a captain’s chair, this isn’t exactly what I imagined,” Boimler sighed.
“Dude, what are you complaining about?” Mariner looked at him. “That’s an official Starfleet command chair you’re sitting in right now, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, in the captain’s yacht,” Boimler indicated their surroundings. Rutherford was seated at a secondary control station while Mariner manned the helm. “There’s really nothing special about this chair. It’s just another standard-issue seat. Which doesn’t even matter since I’m not a captain.”
“Well, technically you are the senior officer here,” Mariner pointed out. “And tradition dictates that whoever commands a vessel, regardless of rank, is referred to as the Captain.”
“Well…” Boimler thought for a moment. “I suppose…”
“Plus, I signed this baby out in your name,” Mariner smirked patting a control panel. “So you’ll be responsible for any scrapes, nicks, malfunctions or damages incurred to it during our little jaunt.”
“You what?!” Boimler yelped. “Aggghhh, not again! You tricked me! I thought we were taking the captain’s yacht out for legitimate use, not another joyride!”
“Hey, relax Boims. This isn’t a joyride,” Mariner assured him. “This outing has official permission, clearance, authorization and everything,”
“Yeah,” Rutherford nodded. “Lieutenant Commander Billups had me install a whole bunch of new updates and features to the captain’s yacht. I just need a certified pilot or two to help test them out.”
“See, Boims? It’s all good,” Mariner grinned. “Besides, we couldn’t pass up a golden opportunity like this. We had to seize the day and grab it while we had the chance.”
“And because you needed a way to get off the ship before Ransom found out you trapped him with a fake romantic partner on the holodeck,” Boimler gave her a look.
“That too,” Mariner didn’t miss a beat. “Hope Ranny doesn’t get too attached to the hologram I set him up with in there. Thought it might be kinda hard since I programmed his date to be an overly amorous Sheliak…”
“Oh boy. Sounds like Ransom is going to be making another pain-filled visit to Sickbay,” Rutherford whistled. “Speaking of which, are you sure we shouldn’t have invited Tendi to come with us? I know there’s no onboard medical suite for her to run diagnostics on, but she could have done something like monitor life support readings or take a turn as a pilot…”
“NO!” Boimler and Mariner yelled.
“I was just asking,” Rutherford cringed at their outburst. “Sorry.”
“Ruthy, do us and yourself a favor,” Mariner twitched. “Never give Tendi an opportunity to pilot anything larger than an anti-grav. Ever!”
“Okey-dokey,” Rutherford blinked. “Uh, why?”
“Trust me. You don’t want to know,” Boimler shuddered. “You’ll have fewer nightmares…” He trailed off as an indicator light began to blink. “Hold on. We’re receiving a distress call. Audio only.”
“Well what are ya waiting for, Boims?” Mariner scolded. “Let’s hear it.”
“This the private…ssszzzttt…transport shuttle Ykatza calling any vessel within range…ssskkkttt…” A staticky, panicked female voice crackled over the comm. “Life support failing…whzzztt…require immediate assistance…ssszzzkkk…!”
“The signal is breaking up,” Boimler frowned checking the communication readings. “It’s very weak.”
“Never fear. It’s Lower Decks to the rescue!” Mariner grinned quickly tracing the distress call’s point of origin. “Looks like we’re gonna give the captain’s yacht a real test!”
“Uh, shouldn’t we contact the Cerritos first?” Rutherford asked. “Or let them respond to the distress call?”
“Na. The distress signal is too weak. They probably can’t even receive it,” Mariner waved. “Besides, they’re still busy inspecting that boring old deuridium mining facility in this star system’s asteroid belt. Don’t worry. We got this.”
“Mariner’s right,” Boimler agreed. “There’s no time to lose.”
“‘Attaway, Boims. You’re really making that ol’ captain’s chair proud now,” Mariner smiled. “Course laid in. Waiting on your order ‘Captain’.”
“Okay,” Boimler couldn’t resist a grin. “Engage!”
“Alright!” Mariner whooped as the captain’s yacht leapt to warp. “Now you’re talking!”
“There’s the shuttle,” Rutherford reported a few minutes later. He quickly scanned the slightly-smaller-than-runabout-sized vessel. “Looks like their engines are offline. I’m detecting a small plasma leak in their starboard nacelle.”
“I’m reading three lifesigns aboard,” Boimler worked his control panel. “Opening a channel…”
“Wait. Hold on a second,” Mariner turned to Rutherford. “Hey, toss me your pip, will ya? I’ll give it back later.”
“Uh, okey-dokey,” Rutherford blinked doing so.
“Thanks,” Mariner smiled. “Okay, Boims. Hold still.”
“Hey, what are you doing?” Boimler yelped as Mariner pinned her and Rutherford’s ensign pips onto his collar. “Get off me!”
“Calm down, man. Just sprucing you up a bit,” Mariner soothed. “Hmmm, still need one more.” She reached into her uniform and pulled out another pip. “Ah, perfect.”
“Where did you get that?” Boimler gawked.
“Eh, just a leftover souvenir from one of my many demotions,” Mariner waved as she pinned the fourth pip onto his collar.
“Wow,” Rutherford blinked in surprise. “Do you always carry an extra pip around with you?”
“Sometimes,” Mariner shrugged taking her seat. “Never know when it might come in handy.”
“That explains how you keep getting into the ‘Lieutenant’s Only’ floating game of Roladan Wild Draw on Douglas Station,” Boimler rolled his eyes. “But not why you’re wasting time pinning multiple pips on me.”
“Hey, you’re the acting captain, man. Just making sure you look the part,” Mariner smirked tapping her console. “Okay, channel open.”
“Ykatza, this is Ensi…ooof!” Boimler gasped as Mariner elbowed him in the ribs. “Er, this is Captain Brad Boimler of the U.S.S. Cerritos. We received your distress call and are standing by to beam you aboard.”
“Oh, thank you!” A shaky image of a young female Deltan wearing a revealing skin-tight bodysuit appeared on a screen. “Are you a real Starfleet captain?”
“Uh, well…” Boimler fidgeted nervously.
“Of course he is,” Mariner interjected quickly. “This is the captain’s yacht. My buddy here is wearing captain pips. Who else would he be but the captain?”
“Who indeed?” Rutherford snickered.
“Excellent,” The young woman gave a predatory smile. “That’s just what I needed to know.”
“Don’t worry, ma’am. We’ll have you all out of there in a…” Boimler was cut off as he was suddenly whisked away by an unfamiliar transporter beam.
“Huh?” Mariner did a take as the young Deltan woman abruptly disappeared from the screen. “Hey, what the…?”
BOOM!
“Ahhh!” Rutherford yelped as the yacht suddenly lurched and shook violently. “The shuttle just opened fire on us! Direct hit to our nacelles!”
“What? Are they crazy?” Mariner quickly raised the yacht’s shields. “Man, I’ve heard of ungrateful rescue victims before, but this is ridiculous!”
“Their starboard nacelle is no longer leaking plasma,” Rutheford reported. “They’re powering up their engines.”
“How the heck is that possible?” Mariner glanced back at him. “I thought you said that thing was dead in space.”
“I did! They must’ve been faking it,” Rutherford said right before the opposing shuttle disappeared from sight. “Aw, man! They’ve gone to warp!”
“And they got Boimler!” Mariner cursed. “That lying bald, beauteous bimbo! I’ll tear her shiny yet abnormally attractive head off!”
“I’m having trouble detecting the shuttle on sensors,” Rutherford frowned. “They must have modulated their plasma injectors beforehand to suppress their warp signature.”
“Find them, Ruthy,” Mariner ordered. “We gotta track ‘em long enough for the Cerritos to pick up their trail. We sure can’t go after them with a set of damaged nacelles.”
“Yes we can. Our nacelles are fine,” Rutherford said proudly. “One of the upgrades I did was to the yacht’s structural integrity field. I boosted power to it around the engines right before we were hit.”
“Really?” Mariner blinked. “Alright! Way to go!” Her hands quickly flew over the helm. “Let’s go get Boimler back!”
“Okey-dokey!” Rutherford smiled as the yacht swiftly set off in pursuit.
“Where are you, you hot, hairless little temptress?” Mariner sing-songed while running a set of continuous short- and long-range scans. “Come out, come out so I can strangle you with my bare hands before beating you to a pulp…”
“Hey, I think I found them,” Rutherford said studying some readings. “They must have realized they’ve been detected. They seem to have switched to using a magneton pulse to mask their warp trail.”
“Oh yeah?” Mariner raised an eyebrow. “Well two can play that game. Start having us emit half a dozen warp shadows. Make ‘em guess which one is us.”
“Okay,” Rutherford quickly did so. “I think it’s working. They’re changing course trying to shake us off…uh oh. I’m losing them again. Now they’re using a randomized EM field to mask their warp signature.”
“That won’t save them,” Mariner declared red-lining the warp engines. “I’ll chase them around the moons of Nibia and around the Antares maelstrom and around perdition's flames before I give them up!”
“Aha! Found them again!” Rutherford chirped. “I’m detecting elevated plasma readings bearing one eight mark three four two. They must be using a scattering field to hide from our sensors.”
“Can you penetrate it?” Mariner asked.
“Trying. Attempting to compensate…there! Got it!” Rutherford grinned. “We’re gaining on them…oh no,” He frowned. “Their ion trail is dissipating quickly. They must be using a polaron field to cover their engine emissions.”
“Ha! We got ‘em now! Amateurs!” Mariner crowed. “Try scanning for polarized EM signatures.”
“Scanning,” Rutherford tensely watched a display. “There! We’re closing. We’ll catch up to them in sixty seconds…” The yacht suddenly shook violently. “Oh man, they’re firing on us again!”
“Oh no they didn’t!” Mariner hissed looking very ticked off. She immediately opened a channel. “Ykatza or whoever the heck you losers are! Cease fire and shut your engines down or we’ll blow you out of the stars!”
“Are you crazy?” Rutherford yelped as Mariner muted the channel. “We can’t fire on them. The captain’s yacht doesn’t have weapons!”
“Yeah, but they don’t know that,” Mariner pointed out. “Use a combination of high-energy thoron fields and duranium shadows to make it look like we’re armed to the teeth.”
“Okey-dokey,” Rutherford swiftly tapped on a panel. “We now have a dozen phony photon torpedo signatures armed and ready for non-launch.”
“Great. Let’s make ‘em really sweat,” Mariner grinning unmuting the comm. “Ykatza, this is your last warning. Stop now or we’ll blow your aft off,” She then delayed closing the channel while stage whispering. “Tactical, activate the crimson force field! Deploy corbormite armor!”
“I think they’re buying it,” Rutherford reported. “They’ve powered down their weapons systems and are diverting more power to their engines.”
“Alright!” Mariner grinned. “Now all we have to do is knock ‘em out of warp…” She blinked for a second. “Uh, Ruthy? How do we knock a shuttle out of warp without using weapons?”
“Um,” Rutherford thought for a moment. “Expose their ship to multiflux gamma radiation? Na, there’s no way the captain’s yacht can do that. Aha! The upgrades I did to the navigational array! I can reconfigure it to generate an inverse graviton burst. That will disrupt their shuttle’s warp field and force it out of warp.”
“Great. Do it,” Mariner ordered.
“Okey-dokey,” Rutherford quickly worked his console. “But what about their shields? We can’t beam Boimler back with them up.”
“Don’t worry. The second they drop out of warp I’ll fire a tachyon burst to force them to reset their shield harmonics,” Mariner said. “Prepare to beam Boimler out when they do.”
“Right,” Rutherford nodded. “Initiating inverse graviton burst…now!”
“They’ve dropped out of warp,” Mariner confirmed. “Firing tachyon burst.”
“It’s not working,” Rutherford frowned. “Try firing again.” Mariner did so. “Again.”
“C’mon, what’s taking so long?” Mariner griped firing off several more bursts.
“Okay, they’re resetting their shield harmonics,” Rutherford reported. “Lower our shields. Energizing.” A startled-looking Boimler rematerialized in the yacht’s small transporter alcove. “Okay, we got him!”
“Alright! Good work, Ruthy!” Mariner grinned quickly raising the shields once again. “Now we just gotta avoid being shot at or blown up until the remaining gravitons dissipate.”
“I don’t think so,” Boimler suddenly pulled out a phaser and pointed it at Mariner. “Bring this ship to a stop and power down the weapons.”
“Huh?” Rutherford blinked at Boimler in surprise. “Hey, man. What are you doing?”
“Boims, are you nuts?” Mariner shot him a stunned look. “Put that thing away before you hurt yourself. Or more importantly, me!”
“I said stop the ship,” Boimler coldly pressed the phaser against the back of Mariner’s head. “Now!”
“Ow! Alright, geeze. No need to be pushy,” Mariner winced bring the yacht to a complete halt.
“Good. Now step away from the controls,” Boimler ordered while motioning for Rutherford to do the same. “Hold up your hands and keep them where I can see them.”
“Hey man, what the heck’s gotten into you?” Rutherford asked as he and Mariner moved to stand next to each other. “Is that Deltan lady controlling you somehow?”
“Fool! There never were any Deltans aboard our ship,” Boimler snapped speaking in a much harsher tone. “We used a holofilter to mask our true appearances and play upon your predicable Starfleet inclination to help beautiful, scantily-clad beings in distress.”
“Well, you’re not wrong,” Mariner admitted. “Wait, who exactly are you? A hologram? Shapeshifter?”
“No. We are the Kobliad Rejuvenating Autonomous Cartel,” Boimler sneered. “We help bring vital medical aid to the desperate, suffering and dying members of our species.”
“Translation: you’re criminals who supply black market medical materials to anyone who can pay your price,” Mariner gave him a look.
“That’s one way to put it,” Boimler smirked. “Your starship’s presence and security upgrades to the local mining facility means we can no longer ‘acquire’ deuridium in this sector. But it did allow us to seize your captain as a hostage.”
“What?” Rutherford yelped. “You kidnapped Captain Freeman?”
“Freeman?” Boimler frowned. “I thought your captain’s name was Boimler.”
“It is,” Mariner said quickly while elbowing Rutherford in the ribs. “Nice try attempting to confuse this guy Ruthy, but he’s obviously too smart to be fooled by a pair of poor Starfleet grunts like us.”
“Uh, right,” Rutherford winced rubbing his side. “Wait a second. Kobliads aren’t telepathic. How are you controlling our friend…er, I mean our captain?”
“Coded bioelectrical pulses,” Boimler preened slightly. “I transferred my neural patterns along the glial cells of your captain’s nervous system and easily took control of his simple, weak-minded brain.”
“Eh, can’t say I’m surprised,” Mariner quipped.
“It’s a technique developed by the late, great Rao Vantika,” Possessed Boimler went on. “I was his most trusted assistant. I continued his cellular longevity experiments and greatly refined his revolutionary method of neural pattern transference.”
“Yeah, yeah. Enough with the backstory,” Mariner waved. “So, what’s your plan anyway? Hold us all for a captain’s ransom worth of deuridium?”
“That was our initial intention,” Possessed Boimler admitted. “Well, not you two obviously. Nobody would pay a single Cardassian lek for a pair of dumb, lowly crewpersons like you. You’re not even Starfleet officers!”
“Well, actually…” Rutherford began before being elbowed again by Mariner. “Uh, never mind.”
“Our plan was to hold your captain for ransom until we received a large cargo shipment of deuridium,” Possessed Boimler went on. “Then we’d return him to Starfleet with me in control and use him as a covert asset to ensure a steady, continuous deuridium supply.”
“I gotta admit, that is pretty clever,” Mariner said. “You know, except the part where you tell us all about your sneaky, sinister little plan.”
“Eh, what can I say? I like to brag. I don’t get many opportunities in my line of work,” Possessed Boimler shrugged. “Besides, it’s not going to matter anyway. The original plan was to have one undercover Starfleet asset. Now we will have three!”
“What?” Mariner yelped. “Forget it, creep! I’m nobody’s puppet!”
“You don’t have a choice,” Possessed Boimler grinned aiming the phaser at her.
“Forget it! I’d rather die than be used by some sleazy, brain-possessing scumbag like you!” Mariner declared grabbing Rutherford’s hands. “Ruthy, do your sworn Starfleet duty and kill me!”
“What?!” Rutherford yelped as Mariner began to struggle with him. “Are you crazy? I can’t do that…!”
“Ahhh! Vulcan Death Grip!” Mariner briefly held Rutherford’s spread fingers to her face. She screamed silently for a moment before slumping to the floor in a heap.
“Uh,” Rutherford blinked, confused. “Oops?”
“Ha! Do you really think I’d fall for such an obvious trick?” Possessed Boimler sneered. “You couldn’t have killed that arrogant loudmouth with a Vulcan Death Grip. You’re not Vulcan.”
“Well, no. But my implant is,” Rutherford pointed at it. “See the pointed ear?”
“Really? Hmmm,” Possessed Boimler looked uncertain for a moment before grabbing a tricorder from a nearby supply rack and pointing it at Mariner’s sprawled form. “I don’t believe it. You really did kill her!”
“I did?!” Rutherford cried sinking to kneel at Mariner’s side. “No! Mariner! It was an accident! I didn’t mean it! I’m sorry!”
“Quiet! Get up! No sudden movements,” Possessed Boimler ordered Rutherford with a mixed amount of caution and fear. “Come over here and give me a brief overview on how to operate this vessel. Unless you want to experience a different kind of death grip.”
“F-Fine,” Rutherford choked back a sob as he stood up and slowly made his way to the helm. He sniffed and wiped his eye before pointing to various controls. “Okay, the captain’s yacht is controlled by a single primary main processing core cross-linked with a redundant melacortz ramistat…”
“Fake out!” Mariner suddenly rose up and shot Possessed Boimler with a concealed phaser.
“Huh?” Rutherford yelped as Boimler’s stunned body fell on him. He pushed his limp form aside before staring at his supposedly dead friend. “Mariner?!”
“Nice work playing along, Ruthy,” Mariner smiled getting to her feet. “Just don’t tell Riker you stole his material…accckkk!”
“Mariner!” Rutherford cried hugging her. “You’re alive! You’re alive!”
“Ugh, but I won’t be for long if you keep hugging me,” Mariner gasped. “Leggo, ya big softy!”
“Sorry!” Rutherford sheepishly released her. “But how are you alive? How did you wind up dead? There’s no such thing as a Vulcan Death Grip. Is there?”
“Nope,” Mariner smirked holding up a hypospray. “I secretly shot myself with a short-term neural paralyzer. Simulated death. Enough to fool a tricorder anyway.”
“I see,” Rutherford blinked. “Wait, where did you get a neural paralyzer in the first place?”
“Oh, just something I picked up from Tendi before we left,” Mariner waved taking away Possessed Boimler’s dropped phaser. “Just in case I ran into an escaped Ransom when we got back and needed a way out…”
“Huh?” Rutherford gaped. “A way out from what…?” A chirping comm panel suddenly interrupted him. “Uh oh. It’s the Deltan…I mean, Kobliad shuttle. They’re hailing us.”
“Oh, are they?” Mariner grinned and quickly shoved Boimler’s unconscious body underneath a console. “Okay. Stay out of sight, Ruthy. I’ll handle this.”
“Niltia? What’s going on over there?” A pair of tough-looking Kobliads appeared on a screen. “What’s taking so long…?” They paused seeing Mariner’s unexpected image. “Oh no! It’s some other Starfleeter!”
“Calm down, you dopes. It’s me,” Mariner snapped. “I had to transfer my neural patterns into this body.”
“Huh?” The Kobliads blinked. “You used your backup microscopic neural generator already?”
“Obviously,” Mariner retorted. “Look, there’s been a change of plan. I’ll disable this ship and continue to infiltrate Starfleet using this body. I’ll beam their captain back over to the shuttle so you can continue holding him for ransom.”
“Hmmm, good idea,” The pair of Kobliads nodded. “We’ll build another microscopic neural generator later and arrange to have a different consciousness transferred to him.”
“Whatever. Just lower your shields and stand by to receive their captain,” Mariner grunted before closing the channel.
“Wow, way to fool those guys,” Rutherford stared at Mariner, impressed. “Give me a minute to reinitialize our warp core so we can get out of here before they realize they’ve been tricked.” He quickly took a seat. “Oh man! We pushed the engines too hard. The plasma coolant system is overheated. It will take at least an hour for it to cool down.”
“Figures,” Mariner rolled her eyes. “It’s okay, Ruthy. I’m not quite ready to run from these losers anyway. I want to end this ‘Kidnapping Captain’ plot of theirs before they end up kidnapping a real one.”
“But how? We still don’t have any weapons,” Rutherford pointed out. “And they’ll fire on us in a second if we try getting away at impulse.”
“Don’t worry. I have an idea,” Mariner quickly dug out a medkit from a supply locker and took an exoscalpel from it. She kneeled over Boimler’s prone form and cradled his head in her lap. “Boims is still the acting captain of this ship. And sometimes a captain has to make the ultimate sacrifice…”
continues in next post
