Tonx listened to Perdita as she rotated her champagne flute. Every so
often she'd look around the table to observe her fellow crew members.
She was always observing. It was a trait she couldn't just turn off,
much to the annoyance of some of those who knew her. The dynamics
between their newest crew member and the ensign were curious and
somewhat amusing. She realized Animo had finished their story, and the
Chief Security Officer flashed an amused smirk, "While Lt. Commander
Animo might have one of the more unusual stories of a previous Lone
Star's demise, I might know the tale of one of the most amusing
reasons."
Pausing to take a long draw of her champagne, McKenna set her glass down
and looked around the table before looking to Felix, "The year was
2319, if I recall correctly, and if you read the official reports, the
ship was on a diplomatic mission. If you dig a bit deeper and have the
proper clearance, you would learn that all was not as it seemed.
"The relationship between the Federation and the Klingon Empire was
anything but peaceful. The official report shows our illustrious crew
was off to try and mediate a conflict around resources between a Klingon
outpost and one of our Federation colonies in territory that was. . .
well, disputed. As the ship neared the location of the colony and the
outpost, it received a distress signal from the Klingon outpost. The
official report says there was an outbreak of a virulent strain of some
type of flu. The report is partly true," Tonx paused to take another sip
of her champagne.
Her smirk grew, "The flu, though, jumped species from tribbles to
Klingons. Now. . .the cute, fury pests are not known for their love of
Klingons, and if you find the unofficial report, you'd find that some of
the Federation colonists were. . .rat bastards, really, and snuck into
the outpost so they could drop off about 20 or 30 of the fur balls. They
apparently left their colony with two, and that is how fast the things
multiplied.
"Now it was bad enough our colonists infected the outpost with tribbles,
but the tribbles were more than a typical plague on the world. They
carried an odd strain of flu that jumped species. The strain of flu was
bad enough that it was deadly to the Klingons. They hadn't gotten
vaccinated against different flu strains," Tonx explained. "When the
Lone Star-C arrived, they found the outpost had been decimated. They
found two survivors who were close to death, and beamed them aboard. One
of them wouldn't let go of a bag. . .it contained their father's
bat'leth or some otherwise important weapon. The bag also contained a
couple of tribbles.
"This was the beginning of the downfall of the Lone Star-C," Tonx let
her smirk turn to a grin as she looked to Edie. "These rat bastards can
breed faster than Edie can run a level 3 diagnostic, and somehow. .
.don't ask me how, some of the critters managed to get into the
manifolds and antimatter chamber. They set off a chain reaction the
engineers could not stop, and the Lone Star-C went off like a roman
candle," she started to wrap up her story. "Now, we had two Klingons
aboard when this happened, which created a massive headache for the
Federation, never mind the paperwork. Though the two Klingons were
celebrated for their bravery... in facing death by tribble." As she
finished her story, servers came in carrying what looked to be the fish
course of their five course meal. Tonx licked her lips and smirked,
"Mmm, time to eat!"
“Edie,” Felix suggested, hoping to lighten the mood. “You’ve heard most
of the ballads of Lone Stars past. Is there a tale you’d like to share?”
Edith cleared her throat, slightly caught off guard by the Captain’s
gentle verbal prod. She welcomed the distraction from the whirlwind of
her own mind, if only for a brief time.
“Oh yes… Captain.” She gave Felix a wicked grin before taking a large gulp of champagne.
“Ladies, gentlemen... gelatinous beings.” Edie took a moment to make
brief but awkward eye contact with each of the guests. “What I am about
to reveal to you is the long lost story of the Lone Star-J. It must
never be repeated. In fact. This conversation never happened in the
first place.” She looked around once more, making sure to receive some
sign of agreeance from each of the participants. A large holographic
image of an ugly Oberth-class vessel appeared above the dining table.
“The year the Lone Star-J went missing was 2367. Over fifty-two years
ago now. I was a third year cadet at the Academy. The Federation had
received a devastating blow from the Borg at Wolf-359. The Klingon
Empire had entered a state of civil war. Even with all that going on, I
still remember hearing the rumours that plagued the hallways of the
Academy about its disappearance. Some said the ship had been lost to the
Borg, others suggested that there had been a fatal warp core breach in
some remote sector. The official reports, however, state that the ship
is simply missing in action.”
Edie had gone against her promise and successfully hacked through the
classified protections that hid the true events behind the Lone Star-J’s
disappearance. What she had found was both perplexing and disturbing.
“The Lone Star-J never existed.” She gave pause for a moment, to allow her peers to react to the blatant and cryptic statement.
The captain, who had heard this one before, allowed his eyes to gleam
and his lip to curl, but gave nothing else away. Others in the crowd
reacted with suspicion, surprise or – in Regina’s case – glee.
“You see. People remember there being a Lone Star-J. On paper, there are
reports and crew logs from apparent members of the Lone Star-J, but in
actuality the fictitious ship and crew were all part of some Federation
wide social-black-psi-ops program. It never actually existed. It was an
elaborate ruse which has fooled all of Starfleet to date. Until now that
is. There are apparently several other vessels and events that never
took place either but I dare not get into those. I may already be marked
for death by exposing this.” Edie’s eyes shifted across the room. She
had been ruthless in her attempts to make her hack untraceable and could
only hope her efforts were not in vain.
“Seventy years old and my undoing may be due to a dinner party.” Her
facial expression was rather serious but only for a brief moment.
“There’s worse ways to go I suppose.”
A few of them chuckled. “Life hasn’t caught up with you yet, Edith
Freelove, and experience tells me that it won’t today, either. Who was
the captain of that fated vessel?” Felix asked.
“Captain BJ Cobbledick. Not a very convincing name, is it?” Edie stated
this rather flatly and then turned her attention to a lonely dill-pickle
on her plate. She picked it up with vigour and took a loud bite off of
the tip. As she did this, her eyes made contact with Harun and she gave
him a playful wink before chewing, enjoying and savouring the crunch of
her pickle.
Harun watched with a sort of morbid fascination as Edie bit into the
pickle. To Edie’s credit Harun had to admire the technique although he
personally could have done without the biting. He merely favored her
with a raising of both his eyebrow ridges in a silent question he wasn’t
certain if he wanted answered.
Burgundy chuckled and poured himself some more champagne, from a new
bottle as he’d already emptied one. “Good story, at least,” he mumbled.
He didn’t believe it for a second, of course. The old lady was clearly a
bit off the rails.
Felix had ripped through his plate – seared tuna on a bed of alpha
quadrant sea foliage, something dessicated and a pleasing but not
perfect foam sauce – rapidly during his engineer’s story. His senior
staff, while incomplete at this gathering, was coming together. No doubt
the non-human members of his top team might struggle with enforced
society, but the others would know the importance of cohesion and
familiarity when the chips were down.
The plates were cleared and the bubbles switched out for a choice of
delights from the wine cellar. In one corner Lester, who had been
hitherto unnoticeable, stirred slowly in Felix’s old hammock. The smell
of its accompaniment, a goulash that had been cooked over several days,
began to fill the dining room of the apartment. The captain’s
able-bodied but aged terrier jumped calculatedly, before strolling
demurely toward the table.
“Petty Officer third class Lester on deck!” giggled Regina Monkfish into
Harun Touvoy’s ear. The availability of champagne had a tendency to
make the Chief of the Boat’s abnormal defensive system fall by the
wayside.
It was impossible for Harun not to notice the canine with Regina
practically shouting it into his ear. The Cardassian tilted his head
away from the Chief’s lips with a slight hooding of his eyes while a
grimace touched his lips. “Lester?” he inquired at a more reasonable
tone.
Lester, quite apart from this, took his place next to Ensign Burgundy,
where a place setting had been provided. The dog glanced once at the
Prepondrian before ignoring him and turning to the source of his name.
Around them, the bustle began and the new course laid out as the
helmsman took over the story-telling.
-= [to be continued] =-