Bar Trek: The Next Generation. Episode 4: Sore Leave

[Gwaihir]

Several hours later . . .

Lt. Gwai opens his eyes blearily and looks around.

"Huh? Whatzs thish? Whereami? Uhgh, sickbay, hrm, I was . . . in the shower . . . no, it was the bridge, and and and . . . there was a pile, a pile of . . . er . . . they smelled . . . i mustve fainted, . . . hrm."

As the remaining 95% of his brain catches up with the rest of his body, Lt. Gwai remembers more accurately what happened.

"Oh, NO! I was undressing on the BRIDGE?! Why do I allllllways do something wrong?! I mean, its not like i'm trying to . . . people always over-react anyway. Especially the vulcan academy. I know I'm supposed to stick to the pure science, but it seemed like it woud be so simple to increase the capabilities of that scanner. I just didn't remember to check that the targeting relays could hold the power load. I really didn't mean for it to change focus during the thesis presentation, and certainly not to the director's bedroom . . . Although I must admit, some of the things she was doing were rather educational . . . if only the rest of the administrative board thought so. And now I'm already ruining my big chance for a new start here at starfleet. I have to work extra hard to make up for my mistake."

Realizing that he had no good reason for that outburst, he looks nervously around, hoping no one really heard nuch of it. Fortunately, S'Katchoo is snoring peacefully, and the Dr. Geo is nowhere to be seen. Although, there are some noises coming from the next room that sound sort of like the ones in the director's bedroom . . .

Lt. Gwai slides gingerly off of the bed, and begins to walk over to investigate, thinks better of it, and decides to go work on the combination phaser/tricorder unit that's been giving him trouble. As he walks out the door, he notices a sign he hadn't seen before.

"To enter here say . . . "

There is a thud and a yelp (that sounds amazingly like a FBW) from the next room, and as he finishes reading, geo appears (in, shall we say, less than full uniform), diving to stop him, yelling "No, don't say-"

". . . onions," Lt. Gwai finishes reading.

**RRRRrrruuuummmmbbbllle**

One shortcoming of the Anti-Sniff devices is their tendency to come off when stuck by hundreds of small, smelly orbs, and this case is no exception. When the outpouring stops, he is sprawled unconscious in the doorway under a pile of the cursed comestibles, which is spilling into the medical rooms and the hallway.

You know, those things probably cause brain damage. Too much exposure might turn a guy into a vegetable.

**Er, i hope you don't mind the slight borrowage of your character, geo. I think its pretty consistent tho. If not, well, you're the one standing there with a whole medlab full of fun drugs and me unconscious under a pile of you-know-whats. Even if you are somewhat informally attired.

[ May 06, 2003, 05:29: Message edited by: Gwaihir ]

[dogscoff]

*In the interests of non-continuity, commander dogscoff issues Gwahir with a uniform from Babylon 5.

Suddenly, a queue of giant sheep in full make-up & chorus girl outfits high-kick their way onto the bridge, baa-ing, whooping, batting their fake eyelashes and flashing their petticoats.

"OK, who ran holodeck program SHP-900C and left the door open?"
*dogscoff consults the holodeck logs.
"Kamog? You have some questions to answer..."

As dogscoff begins to herd the sheep toward Barry's cargo bay, he is struck in the jaw by a woolly can-can kick. Unconscious, the first officer is taken to the sickbay. It falls to someone else to lead the away mission.

[OOC]I As much fun as this thread is, I really don't have enough time for it at the moment. Don't hold the plot up for me...[/OOC]

[Growltigger]

Captain to number 1, please do not direct the chorus line of ovoids to Barry's cargo hold. Please direct them to the captain's ready room for, ahem, more examination......

The sheep head into the captain's ready room, the door closes and the sound of large bolts being drawn can be heard, closely followed by the following song...

"my rhubarb refuses to rise
to its natural size
my baby don't love me no more...
daddle daddle dum
daddle daddle dum
bring on the dancing sheep
Oiii"

Captain Slog, stardate 13.20 GMT - thank heaven for rubgy songs, but we are currently in orbit round Anus IV, my first officer is acting like a big girl's blouse and has backed out of the away mission, it is down to Ensign Power Man or Commander Kamog to go and expore Fart Point as the captain is, ahem, a bit tied up at the moment....

[Power Man]

OK Captain, since I was feeling the "Pressure" I'll help "Move" the plot and command the Away Party-No Away MISSION. This will be ALL work and NO Play. (Ha!)

Power Man activates the Designated Driver Device and heads to the transporter room. He has to turn off the speaker in the Turbolift. It was complaining about Power Man's hair, your suit needs polishing, you never… CLICK !! (what a downer )

As he heads to the transporter he wonders what the Captain could be doing with rising rhubarb, dancing sheep, and getting tied up. (UGH!!)
(Insert Trek Captain's Love scene music track 3 here)

He arrives and finds Taz and some red shirts waiting. One of the red shirts seems to have a hurt foot.
"I am sorry but you can't beam down already injured. That happens After you get there. Go see the Doctor and get that thing fixed."
Power Man looks around for a tricorder to take on the Mission. He spots one labeled "Property of Gwaihir" . "I'll just borrow this one. I am sure Gwaihir will not mind. "

Power Man sets the controls (we really need to get some more crew) on the transporter's PEE tube.
The team is "squirted" down to Fart Point.

They arrive with incredible random accuracy in front of a guy waving a towel. "You must be the new crewman Gryphin. Welcome aboard. Come join my Party-No Mission."

Everyone looks around them. The team has beamed into a large square that sits between "Old Fart Point" and the "New Fart Point Brewery".
The Old Fart Mayor, a Mister Odiferous, is there to greet them. "Welcome, Welcome to Fart Point. We have been waiting for your arrival. Come let me give you the Grand tour."

As the team is lead into the Brewery they see a large sign. "Welcome to Fart Point Brewery. Home of the STRONGEST SMELLING ALE's IN THE UNIVERSE ". They see large Vent Holes belching out clouds of gas from huge tanks of bubbling liquid. Huge barrels of ale are being filled up and stacked away for aging.
The tour ends in the "Fart Point Tasting Room". A huge bar has been set up with samples of all the types of Ale they make. A selection of snacks has been provided.

Power Man reminds the team, "Remember men we a here to Work Not Play. So I want everyone here to Work at getting a sample of every Ale here. That should make for a very "Happy Hour" or so. "
Taz admires the huge bar. He starts making a list of the new ales he will picking up.
The red shirts drink themselves green faced sick.
Gryphin pecks- I mean picks up some free snacks and a selection of ale. He seems to have the appetite of a bird.

Power Man looks around, "What no Tribble wings??" Oh they are. Funny I would swear they were not there a second ago."

"Power Man to Captain Growltigger we may need some more time down here.
There is a lot of (HICK-UP) research left to do."

[Growltigger]

Captain to Ensign Power Man, take as long as you need, but ensure that you com in at 15 minute intervals so that we can ensure that you are still alive, and possibly still coherent.....

I will try and join you shortly but unfortunately, I still have a couple of ewes, I mean, strategy and readiness reports, to go......

Note, Mr S'Katchoo has reviewed Starfleet records on the colonists of Fart Point, do watch out, the original settlers were apparently the refuse and gutter sweepings from the most vicious prisons on Earth, people who could survive in any environment, were resourceful, evil and nasty minded oiks who had a tendency to brew alcoholic beverages out of their own bodily wastes......

Anyway, your captain must go, I am busy helping Miss Baaahhbara here with her starfleet revision (she calls it revision, I call it immorral and illegal)

Miss Flossy, engage the battery operated back scrubber, make it so

Baaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh

[mac5732]

In the dark recesses under one of FartPoints huge mountains, in a subterrainion Fortress, protected against all forms of warfare, an illustrious, suave, sexy, slightly balding, older gentleman, sits in front of a huge console, surrounded by large montior screens. He presses a series of contacts, from far below, in number 12 converter room, massives switches drive home an enormous mass enhanced by methane gas, which in turn propells a small beam of energy that hurls outward toward the alien ship above the planet.
The beam is a pipe like hollow cylinder of intolerable energy which upon striking the ship, clings to the defensive screens and slowly bores a small entrance like hole, thru the screen and then by passes the metal and armor of the ship. The wizen old one chuckles to himself as his spy beam watchs the machinations of those on board the strange craft and the various creatures inhabiting this metal container. As the old one watches, a sexy female clone, who looks very similiar to an old earth celebrity from years past, brings him his breakfast of bacon, eggs, hashbrowns, rye toast and a brewski. "ah, thank you LH#3," he expostulates with a twinkle in his eye. Refreshment while I watch and see what these creatures from nowhere are up to, in the meantime, let Number2 know we have visitors and to put all defensive stations on alert.......

[Gwaihir]

In his unconscious state, Lt. Gwaihir (#%^$ it, I can't remember not to type the 'hir' bit, so *poof* my name is now Gwaihir) dreams of his tricorder . . . he hopes that no one picked up his field test model, he left it lying somewhere . . . Its not that it doesn't work, its just, well, the video games might be against regs, and someone might confuse them with a reading or something. And that self-defense electroshocker bit, well, its really hard to accidentally set it off, but, given his luck . . .
::have fun, guys::