From: Jerome McKee (parakeety_at_hotmail.com)
Date: Mon Apr 23 2007 - 12:13:18 PDT
"TINKER, TINKER"
(Continued from "Imaginary Post")
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Location: Starfleet Academy
Stardate: [2.7]0421.2000
Scene: Lieutenant Arn's Office
Solomon Arn lifted his feet up and rested them on the edge of his desk,
leaned back in his chair, and cast his eye out the window. It was another
beautiful day - the sun shone down upon the sparkling bay waters, glinting
off the centuries-old bridge - and in the distance Solomon could see many
dozens of Academy students down by the water's edge, waving up at the
hoverbugs and shuttles humming around overhead. Across the bay, San
Francisco stretched up and down the coast, home to teeming millions of
people from all corners of the myriad worlds of the United Federation of
Planets.
The door chime interrupted his reverie, intruding into his daydream. He
started, remembering that today was tyhe day that his new Cadet was
beginning training. "Come."
The door hissed open, admitting Heath Carr. The younger instructor slumped
down in the seat opposite Solomon. "Thomas Varn. A pilot." He produced a
PADD from behind his back and laid it on the table. "Ourt latest ACT
wannabe," he smirked.
"We were all wannabes once," remarked Solomon, activating the PADD to peruse
Cadet Varn's particulars. INSERT DETAILS HERE. "By these accounts, he's a
fine pilot. Since his fleet posting will probably take him into starship
piloting, I'm thinking we give him a hotdog run on a Runabout."
"Not as big as a starship, but bigger than a shuttle," nodded Heath. "You
want to simulate an alien attack or asteroid field or something?"
"We'll randomise the program. Make it so that anything might happen."
Solomon shrugged, an oddly Human gesture that he'd picked up. "Let's both
travel in the Runabout with him, put a bit of pressure on. Where is he now?"
"Probably in the admissions office getting his dorm assigned."
"Make no contact. Send him a text message to whatever dorm he's in - tell
him to show up at holodeck one at oh-nine-hundred tomorrow morning. Let's
say a twenty-four hour exercise?"
"You're the boss. I have a date tonight anyway."
Solomon rolled his eyes. "Is he Nausicaan? I bet he's Nausicaan. You'd love
that."
"I prefer Trills," quipped Heath, rising. "See you in the morning, then."
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Scene: Outside Holodeck One
Time Index: Later that evening
Petty Officer David Stahl pursed his lips as he called up the scheduled
holodecks activity for tomorrow morning. It had apparently been booked by
Lieutenant Solomon Arn for a cadet training session. Twenty-four hours, too.
Good.
This corridor was deserted at this time of the day - classes didn't run too
long into the evening, and the automated cleaning droids were meticulously
regular in doing their rounds.
Stahl reached into his belt-pouch and withdrew the Bynar circuit scrambler.
Activating the device, he watched as a small spark leaped from the scrambler
into the holodeck's wall control pad, interfacing with the program therein
almost instantly. He gave it a moment to boot up its own viral program,
eyeing the display.
It wasn't as if he had anything against Lieutenants Solomon Arn or Heath
Carr, or even Cadet Thomas Varn. This was just business - actually, it was
more like revenge - and they were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Oh,
he wasn't planning on killing them or anything, but when Starfleet Academy
began to see that all its flight control cadets were failing the simulated
exercises (due, of course, to the introduction of advanced traps and puzzles
in the program - the Cartaxian Minefield was a beauty), they'd be forced to
conduct a review to see what was going wrong. When he had leaked the news to
the predictably excitable media, it would probably force the resignation of
the Academy's ACT director, Commodore Minurrva Ranirre, who had failed Stahl
seven years ago when he had tried to go through the Advanced Command
Training program. Now it was his turn to twist the screw - as the Klingons
said, revenge was a dish best served cold.
A light beep from the scrambler notified him that the viral program had been
uploaded into the holodeck database. He deactivated it, turned and walked
away, whistling a merry tune to himself.
Tomorrow morning Cadet Thomas Varn, whoever he was, was in for a lot more
than he bargained for...
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NRPG: Nobody, of course, has seen the despicable Petty Officer Stahl carry
out his sabotage on the program. All three participants in tomorrow's
supposed debacle are sleeping soundly in their beds, unaware of the tricksy
situations that lie ahead. If justice ever finds David Stahl, it'll happen
after Thomas Varn's cadet simulation.
JUSTIN: Welcome to your training mission! For your first post, feel free to
write anything up to Tom's arrival at the holodeck, but don't start the
program - I'll do that in my next post. Ideas for your post could be Tom's
difficulty with the notoriously bureaucratic admissions office, calling home
with any news, his thoughts on arriving at the final step of his journey
into the fleet, his last meal before it begins, meeting and greeting NPC
cadets, or just about anything else you like. Stay tuned for an NRPG email,
which breaks down this post to show you how to construct your own.
PETER: How'd that date go? ;)
Jerome McKee
the Soul of Lieutenant Solomon Arn
Senior Instructor
Starfleet Academy
"He speaks an infinite deal of nothing!"
- Shakespeare's "The Merchant of Venice", Act 1, Scene
1.113
"Futile is resistance. Assimmilated you will be."
- Yoda of Borg
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