From: SomeGod <96906700afk@nene.ac.uk>
Date: Sat, 14 Jun 1997 23:45:56 -0700
Subject: USS CHESAPEAKE: The Night-mare continues
MD 7.2352
Scene: Somewhere in a Jeffreys Tube
Poker game. Hah ! A blatant attempt to rob him of money, clothes and
dignity. An upset, red-haired figure was trudging through the Jefferys
Tubes. On second thought, drop dignity. He'd never had much use for
it. It was a nice thing, but rather impractical in real life. Begging
and groveling were seriously reduced in effectiveness if done with
dignity. Besides, in his experience, the guy with dignity always stood
out in a crowd without. And tended to be the first one shot.
He wanted his jacket back. It was very useful, in general, and for
poker games and escapes in particular. Besides, he owed Michael. The
magician who had been the previous owner had been shot by a Klingon
border control. They had been looking for an Irish young man with red
hair. It had been most unlucky that Michael, too, had been a redhead.
The Great Mandoni, unceremoniously robbed of his possessions, had been
mistaken for a certain undesirable individual presumed to be involved in
the escape of dozens of political prisoners from a high security
prison. Oz was still feeling guilty about it. But how was he supposed
to know that dumping the magician naked in the field, with a spare set
of clothing, which happened to be the ridiculous stuff they had given
him in the hell hole they called prison, would lead to the poor man
being shot ? He wasn't supposed to stumble into the nearest border
patrol wearing those rugs. And the Klingons weren't supposed to shoot
at sight. They had probably been upset about the bomb. He later
learned that the Chief Commander of the sector had been fried by it. At
the time he had thought it was just a good laugh...
Okay. Now, in theory, if he turned left, he should be getting to deck
Alpha. Sure, he had been thinking that for the past two hours, but it
*had* to work sooner or later. Didn't it ? Maybe he ought to have paid
attention to where he was running, but that really didn't fit with his
theory of running. Running, so the gospel according to O'Graeach went,
was sort of Zen like. I run, therefore I am still alive. No attention
ought to be paid to either what was behind, or what was ahead. What was
behind could take care of itself. As he was always running at full
speed, turning around to check on it would do nothing except provide
opportunity for stones to get in the way and cause falling. What was
ahead would take care of itself when he came to it. Where he was was
unimportant because he would get the hell out of it anyway. It didn't
make sense to anyone else, but it worked for him. It had the side
effect of causing him to get lost frequently, but the upside was that
people trying to work out where he went usually made the mistake of
assuming he would *plan* his escape route.
He would have called for help, except that his combadge happened to be
in his jacket. Very inconvenient. He turned left again. He wished he
knew where he was, but right now he could have been anywhere on the
ship. Anywhere at all. He had been up and down more often than he
could remember, and around and around and around. In theory, turning
left all the rime ought to lead to the same place he had come from, but
somehow, that did not work. Every ten minutes or so he did what he did
best. Like, right now.
"Waaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.
Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeelllllllllllllllpppppppppppppppp !!!!! Anybody out
there ? Helpppppp ! I'm looooooooooooooooooooooooooooooosssssttttttt
!!!!"
As usual, no reply. Nobody ever paid any attention. "Typical.", he
muttered. "Man in need, and what do they do ? Ignore it. Bastards."
He trudged on. And on. And on. He wasn't sure how long he had been
walking when he heard something behind him. Tiny, little footsteps.
Actually, not so tiny. And this odd scratchy sound, as if something
scaly or dry was dragged along. Oz turned. Nothing. Maybe it was just
a figleaf of his imagination. Who knew. Maybe he was going insane.
After all, he was talking to Death, which was insane whether she was
real or not.
He trudged on. The noise seemed to follow. In fact, it seemed to come
closer. Oz stopped and turned, listening intently. The sounds went on,
then he saw a pointy, hairy nose coming around the corner, followed by
whiskers, followed by the largest rat he had seen in quite a while.
"Space rats !", he gasped in horror, staring at the three foot long
rat, excluding tail, that came around the corner. It was the size of a
large German Sherperd, and had teeth that made a dog look - well,
wimpy. He hadn't known that SF vessels were carrying Space Rats, but
there was no reason why they shouldn't. The mutated common houserat
from earth had gotten all over the place, immune to radioactivity, and
sometimes growing to the size of a small calf. This one was a small
one, by those standards, but it still had teeth that made a razor blade
look harmless by comparison. Partly because razorblades didn't drool.
Then, instantly, without a further thought, he bolted down the tube at
maximum speed. His feet barely hitting the ground, and that very
rapidly, he shot along the tube, bounced of a wall and sped around the
corner without slowing down. Behind him the rat was trying to keep up,
with moderate success. Having four legs it was, in theory, equipped to
outrun a man. In practice, it was outclassed by an FCO on panic.
He passed an open door. There was a sign saying "DANGER !!! Do not
enter. Working area.", but who ever got anywhere by following orders ?
Slipping through the opening he slammed the door shut behind him. The
next moment there was a loud bang at the door, and then growling and
snarling. Oz backed away carefully, not letting the door out of his
sight. Which was to be filed under 'Bad Ideas'. He managed to miss the
whole in the ground, at least with his eyes. He very successfully
noticed it with his feet, and the rest of his body, when he suddenly
found the floor lacking in existence.
"A
A
A
A
A
A
A
A
A
A
A
A
A
A
OUCH", he grunted, before sliding down an air shaft. Damn, who was
building those things at a 45 degree angle ? Someone with sadistic
tendencies, that was who.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
!!!", he screamed as he accelerated down the airshaft, just before the
ground disappeared beneath him. He took a deep breath to scream in
panic, when suddenly, without warning, the ground began to slope, and he
rolled quickly downwards until he was dizzy. "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA", he
screamed before hitting some sort of grating, which, thanks to the
sloppy work of the maintenance team, had been lacking two screws and had
been rather loose. Now it was lacking all screws and was blasted off
the wall as O'Graeach crashed through it, sailed through the air with a
scream and landed safely on a bed, just as its occupant was going to
enter it.
Shaking his head to get a clearer reception Oz looked up to stare in
horror at the woman, who in turn was staring back. This was the one
woman he wanted to be as far away as possible. Actually, that was not
entirely correct. There were many women he wanted to avoid, but this
one was certainly one of them. She was mad, people said she was bad,
and Clarissa had threatened to do something nasty to him if he upset
her. He opened his mouth, desperatly trying to think of something to
prevent the situation from blowing up.
"Gaaa." Well, no, not good. He tried again. "Gaaaaaa !" No, that
would not do. "Eh - nice weather tonight, isn't it ? I was just
passing - I hope you don't mind me using your bed to avoid bashing my
head in, Dr. Murray ? Um. Nice see-through nightdress..."
NRPG:
I didn't plan it. Honest ! it just - happened. I swear
Masako: If Anne isn't up to this sort of intrusion, one scream and
O'Graeach will leg it :) Otherwise, this would be a good opportunity
for her to 'socially interact' with the crew without having the
counselor look over her shoulder <G>
All: I'm BAAAAAAAAAAAAACK :)
Loved that poker night <G>
As to timing - whenever it fits :)
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