A Halloween Special - inspired by FCanon's creepy challenge.
Rating? er bit of strong language - it's the thought that counts.
Disclaimer - come on tptb - where's yer sense of humour?
You own it - we pay for it ... er ... play with it.
NIGHTMARE ON TRILL STREET
by
There was a red glow before the darkness.
"Crap." Said Dax, in a moment of clarity, before the turbulence among the hosts presaged the sudden and unexpected arrival of another to the collective consciousness. "That spoonie shithead’s killed Jadzia."
Then it was darkness of the most profound kind. A darkness, a peace that was undisturbed by physical sensation, or outward stimuli.
The darkness ebbed.
Consciousness slipped in, almost shyly.
Dax felt the hosts emerging from their deep and timeless slumber, the balance shifting and reforming to envelop Jadzia.
"I hope that Skrain’s balls shrivel and Worf feeds them to him without any yamok sauce.!" Jadzia’s host memory boiled in rage. "I hope his ridges sink and his scales fall out … I …"
"Language … Jadzia … language." Emony chided.
"Oh shut up." Jadzia snapped. "YOU haven’t just been murdered in the prime of your life, leaving behind a potent and studly Klingon warrior to practice babymaking with have you … Fu…"
"JADZIA!" Emony spoke with her sharpest maternal thought tone.
"Oh shut up the pair of you." Curzon grumbled.
"This is a nightmare." Jadzia complained. "A fucking nightmare." She finished triumphantly feeling Emony’s disapproval through the hosts shared consciousness.
"No." Dax’s grave thoughts distracted them. "No … it’s not … but this is."
The collective consciousness, blind, deaf and dumb to the outside world suddenly became aware of Dax absorbing another host, a living host, a tactile, feeling, sentient host.
The hosts hovered in anticipation waiting for the tentacles of consciousness to reach them.
And then they realised.
They felt it.
They knew what had terrified Dax.
"Oh Fuck." The collective consciousness gasped. "We’ve been joined with a ratings ditz."
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!" Dax howled in agony as the new host Ezri’s sweet, cute thought patterns reached into the symbiont’s substance and sugared them to the point of saturation.
The collective consciousness felt the worm turn, roll, attempt to crawl back out of the host’s belly, then to ascend up her throat, then to try any other orifice – but it was to no avail.
The nightmare had begun … they had an entire season of playing cute and ditzy ahead of them.
"Worf might kill her?" Jadzia suggested hopefully.
"Too much honour." Curzon negated her gloomily.
"We’re doomed … doomed …" Dax intoned miserably, as it found itself carted around Deep Space Nine grinning inanely at people.
"At least it’s only for one season." Jadzia said encouragingly.
Or … is it …?????????????????????????
SCENE CHANGE
=/\= CUT TO THE PRESENT =/\=
THE BOWELS OF PARABORG STUDIOS
His creation lay strapped to the table, stepping back he admired his handy work. After nearly three seasons the spandex costume still had the appearance of having only been freshly spray painted. The two co-stars that rose majestically from her chest still looked as massively monumental as the day that they had emerged from the Hollywood filling station.
And his plan … his plan to populate the world of trek with pneumatic blondes and ditzy twits was proceeding according to the timetable.
The new vehicle was almost ready to be rolled out and he had the perfect crossover character … the character that would link DS9 and Voyeur-ger …
Thunder battered the roof of the isolated hut on the Paraborg lot, lightening flashed through the windows …
He turned and spoke to his creation.
"Arise Seven of Dax."
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