Selected Quotes Sept '24
Posted on 02 Oct 2024 @ 7:33pm by Commander Calliope Zahn
QUOTES SEPTEMBER 2024
Assault on the Compound
Dresden’s jaw tightened. “Agreed.” Though something in the back of his mind felt sorry for what was about to happen to Lake. Dead or alive, her future didn't look good.
~
The marines quickly set up breaching charges on the main entrance as well as two discovered side entrances. Their movements swift and practiced. Dresden and Burns stood ready, weapons drawn, as the charges were detonated. The heavy doors blew inward with a thunderous crash, sending a shockwave through the air and scattered debris across the compound's courtyard.
"Marines, secure the compound. Take prisoners if you can.” Burns ordered as the marines from all three sides began to slowly make their way in.
Timefall
Burns approached; his brow furrowed. “These look like… equations or maybe puzzles. But why?”
Dresden didn’t have an immediate answer. He took out his tricorder and scanned the symbols. The tricorder came back with nothing. “Nothing,” Dresden said, his frustration growing. “And I wasn’t exactly a fan of logic puzzles, so I couldn’t tell ya.”
~
I don’t know how I’m going to explain all this to my superiors. Starfleet Intelligence or even Section 31 will have a field day with me on this one. I’m sending them every piece of data we collected, every scan, every log, and I hope to hell they can make sense of it.
But what I’ve determined, what I fear, is that we have no idea what she plans to do. That’s whats going to keep me awake now.
Debrief
The questioning continued, and Dresden felt like he was being grilled for every scrap of information, every possible angle. His exhaustion deepened, and he found it harder to keep his thoughts straight, his responses became more and more copy and paste.
The Best of a New Generation
…”So, what I’ve got to say is this: My engineers, who are soon to be yours, are a deluded bunch. They think that they are here on vacation - that’s a horrible word that should never have entered our lexicon. There are twenty of them and among them you’ll find experts in electro plasma systems, bussard ramscoop - a fine synonym for ‘boring’ if you ask me - DCA and PDT, even WFC, I’m told.”
~
“Younglings,” The DaiMon went on before Brek could place a word. “These days, they are so arrogant and demanding. They don’t realise they need to shut up for a couple of decades before they can inherit the world. That world, as dysfunctional as it is, it belongs to us now. Yep, it is in our hands.”
Sending Off
They were cuffed partway up the calf and kind of loose and baggy. Ibis had called them harem pants. But when Olivia had asked what ‘harem’ was, Ibis just handed her the shirt. It was a loose sleeveless shirt. “So you can see your new ink. And remember.”
Options to Explore
He’d always taken his fashion seriously, because most people expected Orions to dress in leather, and they never disappointed. Leather arm bands. Leather shirts. Leather pants. Leather underwear. Rit had always hated leather (especially the underwear, which chafed something awful). He’d long preferred top-end suits, the more expensive, the better. No one expected an Orion in a Savile Row suit. Juries tended to look at him more favorably; judges barked at him less. Creamy tones seemed best to compliment his skin shade, but he’d gone for the occasional dark suit, particularly when his clients were accused of some particularly horrible crime.
~
“I kinda figured. I’m talking about how you want to handle the other two families. The whoevers and whats-their-faces. Do you want the kid to have anything to do with them after all this is over or can I go after them, find the dirt they don’t want anyone to know and air it publicly. And I can exploit every loophole I can find to slow this down until the kid graduates high school. Or college. Or retires, for that matter. We can drag this out until every person in those families is deceased.”
Transfer Approved
Wells was a tall, stern figure, his salt-and-pepper hair combed neatly, and his sharp blue eyes carried the weight of years in leadership. His reputation as a strict but fair leader preceded him. Despite his rigid posture, there was an intensity about him that made people take him seriously, a man not easily impressed but also not quick to judge.
Logical Luminaries
Six Vulcan science officers, walking in a cluster, had just cleared customs. Unlike other arrivals, they presented themselves without additional luggages and their expressions were a mix of bewilderment and fatigue. One officer was trying to decipher information on a PaDD, while the others gazed around with a mix of curiosity and apprehension.
“The luminaries seem to have abandoned all logic behind them,” T’Sheng commented.
A Glass Raised to the Unknown
Dresden sat at a corner table, nursing a glass of whiskey as he waited for Burns to arrive. Whiskey in the morning? Might as well be mouthwash.
~
“Cage,” Burns greeted him as he slid into the seat opposite. “You look like hell.”
Dresden chuckled, though there was little humor in it. “So do you, old man.”
“Old man?” Burns replied, “Hey, I’m not the only one drinking whiskey. Looks like all you need is a newspaper, a shotgun, and a rocking chair in front of an old cabin.”
One Last Look Around
Dresden placed the pin in the box with a sigh, the weight of the past heavy on his shoulders. He turned and saw the framed picture on the wall, a photo of his meeting Commander Lake for the first time and being accepted for the position.
But along the way, something had changed. Lake’s descent into fanaticism, Cortes’s betrayal, it was hard to reconcile the people they had become. Dresden had to believe they had been good once, just as he had to believe in the person he still was.
Group Therapy
“Sounds like you’ve heard more than a few lies about me.” He added. “I am not benevolent - what a despicable thing to say of anyone. Just because I chose to live among Hewmon doesn’t mean I lack common sense. I have plenty, including the sense of having prohibitive tariffs.”
Having delivered his line, Brek smiled. That should repel the little beggar. There is no greater annoyance than a complete stranger offloading their trouble on your doorstep, expecting you to do something about it while they put themselves in the bogmire willingly.
“I... I have three bars of latinum,” the Ferengi replied with a humility that was as astonishing as it was repellent. “They are yours if you accept to help me.”
Brek’s grin turned into a grimace. “It’s not a fortune, it’s an embarrassment. Keep them, and by all that is precious, make some decent investments!”
The Last Night
He moved over to his desk, where a stack of paperwork awaited his signature. Last-minute orders, transfer documents, security clearance confirmations—all part of the bureaucratic dance that accompanied a change in assignment. He signed each document with the practiced ease of someone who had done this many times before, though the weight of the moment wasn’t lost on him.
As he finished the last form, Dresden sat back and let out a long breath. It was done. Everything was in order. All that was left was to get some rest and prepare for the journey ahead.
Hard to Get - Quitting Time
Now Jacinta’s workstation rang with a call from the same weird routing number and someone named ‘Marshal’ again. It seemed whoever had her personal commlink had her place of work, too. “G’damn robosalers.” She muttered as she blocked the number, the irony of herself as a recruiter complaining about a solicitor completely lost on Jacinta.
~
Jacinta still preferred the sweatshirt, throw blanket, knapsack, and the mugs she’d garnered when the Fleet had got its hooks in her, back in ‘56 when she’d enlisted on Terra Nova. The new stuff could go to the kids. Starfleet wasn’t the same as when she had enlisted, if she were asked to be honest, which she generally avoided being in her pitches. Times were different. That was just a fact. Better? Worse? Who was she to say? Better to let the kids get out there and figure it out for themselves.
Enroute to Obsidian Command
As he neared the shuttle port, his stomach growled, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten anything yet. A small breakfast spot caught his eye, tucked in the corner of a busy street near the terminal entrance. Without hesitation, Dresden stepped inside and grabbed a booth. The interior was reminiscent of an old diner and he loved it. He ordered his favorite: a bacon, egg, and cheese hero with large coffee. Brand: Bustello, an old coffee recipe that the male lineage of his family enjoyed back in the day. The booth was by a window which oversaw the front of the port. He sat his bags down beside him with a thud. The smell of sizzling bacon and fresh coffee filled the air, and for a moment, the tension in his shoulders eased. This was familiar. This was comforting.
Beneath Burning Skies
For a moment, everything was a blur of pain and noise. Dresden struggled to free himself from the seatbelt, his ears ringing and his vision swimming. He finally managed to unbuckle himself and crawled toward what was left of the shuttle’s exit. Flames licked at the twisted metal, and the smell of burning fuel filled the air.
Experimental Setup
She'd known she should not touch the glittering mass of blackness but the compulsion she'd experienced at the time had been totally overpowering. The battle of wills with the demons had her wanting to throw herself into it and allow her whole self to be enveloped into the void she knew was waiting for her.
Category: General News
RSS Feed