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Is Bobeck the Chubby Bolian really an imbecile?

Posted on 09 Jul 2016 @ 8:52pm by Lieutenant Jonathan Kilmartin

Mission: Risky Business
Location: Holodeck 1
Timeline: MD2: 1930 Hours

USS Trent
Runabout Cockpit
0434, 5th July 2387


Runabouts had been in service for a relatively long period of time with Starfleet and were now a common sight travelling through the space lanes of the Federation, transporting minor cargo or personnel to different destinations. Their lack of a high warp speed or multiple, high powered weapons systems made them a bit of a risk when travelling in potential hot zones, but this particular Runabout, the USS Trent, faced no such problems as she was travelling through the Cor Caroli system in the heart of Federation space. Her cargo consisted of two humans, a Bolian and a rather intriguing human/Vulcan hybrid. Her destination; Starbase Five-Sixty-Five near the Alpha Centauri system.

At the helm of the Runabout, sat in the relative dark and alone in the early hours of the morning with only the ships controls to light the room, Lieutenant Nicole Windsor watched the LCARS display and monitored the ships speed and course. She had drawn the short straw of the early shift, but it presented her with a chance to contemplate the future that awaited her.

Rubbing her eyes and letting out an exhaustive yawn, the Starfleet Lieutenant hoped that her relief would show up so she could get some down time. She pulled the hair tie from her wrist and ran her hands through her brown, shoulder length hair, pulling it together at the back and tying it into a ponytail.

Further back in the runabout Sytar Jackson glared at the Bolian. The idiot had attempted to flirt with her, once verbally and the second time resulted in him sporting a sprained wrist. She left him alone with the medkit and joined their pilot at the front of the ship. “Men,” she said to Nicole, as if that was reason enough. And it was.

Windsor craned her neck to look towards the person who had entered the crafts cockpit and gave a slight smile in acknowledgement before turning back to look out of the forward window. “What’s he done now?” The petite woman queried as she lifted her feet and placed them upon the console, leaning back and getting comfortable. She was happy to have the company.

“What has he not?” Sytar muttered. “However, I am happy to report he will no longer pose a problem. At least not for the duration of our journey.”

“Jesus, you killed him?” Nicole questioned, looking across at the woman who had joined her. Bobeck had annoyed her a few times too during the journey but she hadn’t resorted to such measures.

“Nothing so dire, he is merely incapacitated,” Sytar assured her. “How long until we reach our destination?” she asked, not sure yet if she were looking forward to the next phase of her life.

Windsor smirked at the thought of Bobeck rolling around in the back, writhing in agony at whatever punishment Sytar had dished out. Planting her feet firmly on the decking once more, she tapped the controls and let out a sigh, “Seven hours and forty-three minutes.”

The half-Vulcan closed her eyes and exhaled slowly. On the one hand that was a long time to be cooped up with a sullen Bolian, a rather attractive human male and the pilot she was now conversing with. But on the other… that was arriving at the unknown. Her first foray into a real life outside of Starfleet. Even though she would be working among many Starfleet officers on a Starfleet ship. The irony was not lost on her and perhaps that was why the former Commodore Geiger had arranged a Lounge on the USS Scorpio for her to manage. His sense of humour was rather wicked.

“Perhaps this was not the best idea,” she said almost to herself.

“Excuse me?” Windsor raised an eyebrow as she turned in her chair to focus on her travel companion, “what wasn’t the best idea?”

Sytar studied the human woman as she considered her answer. “Putting my faith in a man,” she replied.

“A schoolgirl error, as we say on Earth,” Windsor grinned.

“Not that kind of a man,” Sytar told her. “This one is helping me start a new life. As a Lounge Manager of all things.”

“We’re not all that bad,” a voice came from behind them. The pair looked over their shoulders to the human male accompanying them on their voyage. He stood motionless, gazing at the women, a phaser leveled at their heads. “Some of us are worse.”

“You have GOT to be kidding me…”

“I kid you not,” he said.

Sytar raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Humans, she thought to herself.

The diminutive human female folded her arms across her chest and frowned. “What the hell are you playing at?”

“I can assure you madam, this is no game,” he said with a slight bow of his head. “I have a new heading for you.”

The Flight Controller listened to the man’s instructions and considered her course of action; would she do as he requested or would she refuse? “What speed would you like?” She asked sarcastically.

“Fastest possible speed,” he said. “Thank you for your cooperation. I didn’t want to make a mess.”

Nicole exchanged looks with Sytar and turned back to the conn. She placed her hands gently on the console top and increased the ship’s speed. “You do know that the Helios is waiting at Starbase Five-Sixty-Five and if we don’t show up, they will come looking.

“And the Scorpio is awaiting Ms Jackson,” he added.

Sytar arched a slender brow. “Do I know you?” she asked.

“No, but I know you,” he said with an enigmatic smile. “Heard of you at least. Your reputation precedes you.”

“If I’m in this because you, you know… 'did the deed' with him and didn’t call afterwards, I’ll kill you,” Nicole frowned, looking across at her fellow hostage.

“I can assure you I have never met this man before, Lieutenant. Let alone 'done the deed' with him.”

The man chuckled. “No, now that would be something I would brag about. You are a hero of mine, Ms Jackson. Stealing a starship and aiding in the deaths of so many people. Truly a work of art.”

“You did what?” Windsor exclaimed, a distressed expression filling her beautiful face. What the hell was going on? “You did kill Bobeck didn’t you?”

Sytar’s face was pale. It had been an episode in her life that she wanted to delete from her past. “I was acting under orders,” she said through gritted teeth. “I did not kill anyone.”

“Be that as it may,” he said with a glint in his eye, “Every person on Starbase 50 was eradicated and you stood idly by.”

“Woah, hang on a minute!” Windsor ordered loudly as she threw her arms in the air to stop them. “You killed the entire population of a Starbase? What the hell have I got myself into?”

“I just said--” Sytar said but cut herself off, not wanting to waste the energy in correcting her.

“You know, you should join me,” he told her, ignoring the pilot for the moment. “We could use someone with your obvious skill.”

Nicole pushed herself up, out of the chair, her hands on the arm rests either side of her and stood in front of the man in protest. “So, what now?”

“Well, I could always kill you,” he said flippantly.

“I’ll sit back down and shut up then…” the human frowned, returning to her seat quickly.

“Good girl,” he told her.

Sytar glanced at the Lieutenant trying to catch her gaze, but the woman steadfastly ignored her. With an internal sigh, she focused on her attention on the man with the weapon. “What is your cause?” she asked. At the questioning look he gave her she continued, “That you wish me to join?”

“I work for a group seeking to return a once glorious empire back to its rightful place on the galactic stage. The Federation has exploited the peace, they’ve made territorial gains at the expense of those who suffered greatly at the hands of the Dominion,” he declared, going all idealistic on their asses.

Her eyebrow raised at his words. Her time reluctantly spent with Starfleet Intelligence meant she had knowledge of recent terrorist groups and one stood out in particular. “The Order of 12,” she breathed.

“The who and the what now?” Nicole interjected, reminding the two that she was still there.

“The Order of 12,” the man responded, his focus turning to the pilot. “The Federation has taken Cardassian systems, has taken Cardassian worlds and not returned them. They have taken control of territory they have no business being in…”

“You are right,” Sytar told him. “The Federation and Starfleet have taken advantage of the currently vulnerable Cardassians. I do not, however, understand your involvement. What can you, a human, possibly hope to achieve with one runabout?”

“We’re not as vulnerable as you may think…” the man smirked, the thought of the missions taking place across Cardassian and Federation space amusing him. “We are working to provide our Cardassian colleagues with intelligence and manpower from inside the enemy camp. With this lone Runabout, we can rescue seven stranded operatives and return them to a safe haven. That is what I hope to achieve.”

Sytar nodded. “And how can I help?”

“You already have…” he threw his head back towards the aft compartment, a silent gesture at their missing companion. “Bobeck is just one of the seven. As for your role, do you think you could assist in rescuing some of my comrades from the confines of their cells?”

She rolled her eyes in a very un-vulcan like manner before rising to her feet. “I stole the same starship twice. The energy barriers of a brig will not pose a problem.”

He grasped the headrest of one of the aft chairs and turned it, slowly lowering himself into the comfortable seat. “The barriers to the brig will be the least of our worries. Penetrating the defences of a Federation Penal Colony, now that’s a challenge…”

“That is not a challenge,” she told him haughtily. She gestured to the seat beside him and asked, “May I?”

The man nodded, but kept his phaser trained on her, his attention no longer focused on the pilot

Sytar sat and raised an eyebrow. “Guards are fallible and easy to evade. You just need to apply the right pressure--” she said as her hand darted quickly forward and grasped the pressure point near his collar bone and shoulder. The nerve pinch she administered was rough and painful and the man struggled briefly before succumbing to its effects.

Sytar grabbed the phaser, adjusted the setting down to stun before looking across at the pilot.

“I was beginning to wonder when you would try that…” Nicole had produced a phaser from beneath the conn whilst Sytar had expertly drawn the man’s attention away and now waved it in his direction. “So, shall I kill Bobeck or do you want that privilege?”

The half-Vulcan arched her brow. “Sometimes I wonder about Starfleet Officers,” she said.

Before Nicole could retort the door behind them swished open and said Bolian jumped in. “Ha hah!” he yelled.

“Oh how I have been waiting to do this…” the pilot grinned as she aimed her weapon at the irritating Bolian. He’d hit on these women for the last time, at least for the rest of this journey. With a single press of a button, she fired a single phaser blast at the blue dude’s chest.

As he collapsed into a heap on the cold deck, Nicole turned to Sytar, her grin still very much in place. “Shooting him… felt strangely satisfying!”

“It always does.”

Suddenly, the cockpit of the Runabout disappeared, it's occupants disappearing with a slight shimmering effect as the grid lines of the holodeck re-appeared and the sole person in the room lay on the floor. As if by clockwork, the man sat up and let out a grin. The holo-novel his engineering friend had begun developing wasn't bad at all.

Lieutenant Kilmartin, or Sunbeam to his friends, had played the part of the aspiring terrorist/revolutionary and was interested to see where the story of the political movement in the Gavarian Corridor would go. Would the Runabout's crew get back to the Starbase? Would the hijacker succeed?

Was 'Bobeck the Chubby Bolian' really as much of an imbecile as he seemed? Sunbeam couldn't wait to find out.

 

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