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Wed, Oct. 11th, 2006, 09:53 pm
Mission the Second

{Disclaimer: The fic herein, The Europa Incident, is the property of Elf/Vampire/Vulcan/Jedi/Saiyan. The PPC belongs to Jay and Acacia. Star Trek belongs to somebody who isn't Alania. Lócë and Infinity, however, belong to somebody who is Alania.}

The Europa Incident

I’m afraid that will be quite impossible, said the Sunflower Official sternly.

Agent Lócë grimaced. “I figured it would be. You Flowers delight in making life miserable for us, don’t you?”

The SO ignored the question and continued, The Minor Fandoms section of the DMS is drastically understaffed. We cannot afford to transfer any agent to another department on a whim.

“This is not just a whim,” Lócë tried to explain, forcing himself to remain calm. “Have you been listening to anything I’ve just said? My partner is a pacifist. It’s against her moral code to kill! Whose bright idea was it to assign a Vulcan to the Department of Mary Sues, anyway?”

Is your partner physically able?

“Yes, but—"

Then she will remain where she is. If she refuses to be an assassin, then it is your job, Agent Lócë, to make her one. Is that understood?

Lócë sighed and nodded, though inwardly seething. “Yessir. Whatever you say, sir.” If the SO noticed the hint of sarcasm in his voice, it showed no sign of it.



Lócë wandered the halls of PPC HQ aimlessly, grumbling to himself. Teach a Vulcan to kill! They might as well have assigned him to teach a hobbit to go on a diet. Without paying attention to where he was going, he stumbled back into Response Center #27 and slumped into a random swivel chair.

The moment her partner came through the door, Agent Infinity jerked her hand guiltily back from the backpack on the floor, a partially-unwrapped chocolate bar falling from her hand.

Lócë blinked a few times, trying to figure out whether he’d just seen what he thought he’d seen. “What are you doing with my stuff?” He walked over, picked up the chocolate bar and looked at it blankly. He looked at Infinity. Something clicked into place.

For a couple of days now, Lócë’s supply of chocolate had been mysteriously vanishing—or at any rate, he thought it was. Each time he noticed this, however, he had managed to convince himself that it was a hallucination brought on by a Bleeprin overdose—he had surely eaten the chocolate himself and forgotten. Now he realized he hadn’t been hallucinating at all.

“Have you been swiping my chocolate?” he demanded in disbelief.

Infinity opened her mouth as though to say something, and closed it again. She was blushing bright green.

Lócë rolled his eyes. “Just what I need right now—a Vulcan with a chocolate addiction.” He sighed. “Look, kid, if you wanted more chocolate, you could have just asked. You don’t need to get embarrassed about it just because you’re a Vulcan and Vulcans aren’t supposed to want stuff like that. You’re in the PPC now, and there aren’t too many other Vulcans around. Who’s ever gonna know?”

Infinity didn’t answer. She was now determinedly looking away from him. Lócë rolled his eyes again and put the chocolate bar away. If she wasn’t going to talk about the matter, then he wouldn’t either. But, he decided, she seriously needed to learn how to swallow her pride and just ask for something that she wanted, or she was going to get herself into a lot more trouble than just having a disgruntled partner.

Lócë looked back at the Vulcan and noticed that there was something else different about her. Then he figured out what it was. She’d gotten a proper haircut, or at least a hair trim, in an attempt to neutralize some of the damage that he’d done by hacking most of it off on her first day in the PPC. Now, although it wasn’t fantastic, at least her hair no longer looked as though huge bunches had been ripped out. He thought about commenting on it, but decided that Infinity was probably too embarrassed right now to bear any more conversation. He walked back to the swivel chair and dragged it so that it was right next to the console. There he sat and stared at the display for many long minutes.

At long last, he heard his partner approach him from behind. “What are you doing?” asked Infinity timidly.

“Waiting for the console to go off,” Lócë explained. “When in the PPC HQ, if you ever decide to lie down and have a nice rest, or take a break, or do something otherwise cool or fun, the console will immediately go off—Laws of Narrative Comedy and all that, you know.” The look on Infinity’s face made in quite clear that no, she didn’t know, but Lócë ignored this and continued. “So after having that happen at least half a billion times I’m fed up with it all. I’m not going to play along anymore! I’m not going to even try to do anything relaxing—I’m going to sit right here and stare at this console until it goes off.” And with that he resumed his unblinking glare at said console, as though he were trying to stare it down.

Infinity blinked, clearly not following anything her partner had just said. She opted, therefore, to retire to the other side of the room and read up on the latest PPC technology.

Lócë stared at the console for what felt like hours, but what Infinity knew to be closer to 41.6 minutes. Nothing happened. The offensive bit of machinery was completely silent.

At long last, Lócë leaned back in the chair with a sigh. “All right,” he muttered ruefully. “You win. I’m going to go take a nap.”


“baQa’!” Lócë looked at the monitor and sighed. “Whadaya know. It’s another Vulcan!Sue. Written by someone called Elf/Vampire/Vulcan/Jedi/Saiyan. Sounds like she’s got some identity issues.” He turned to his partner. “You can set the Disguise Generator while I get some things together.”

Infinity nodded and moved over to the Console, manipulating the controls with some clumsiness; she’d had very little practice.

Before they entered the fic, Lócë thrust a phaser into his partner’s hand. “This time,” he told her, “you are going to use this.” Infinity started to shake her head, but he insisted, “Yes, you are. I went to the Sunflower Official. It said that you can’t transfer; you’ll simply have to learn how to be an assassin. And you’d better start now.”

Infinity hesitated for another moment or two, and then reluctantly accepted the proffered phaser. Lócë nodded in satisfaction and gestured toward the Portal. “Ladies first.”

Infinity gave him an exceedingly odd look and stepped through. Lócë grinned and followed.

In another moment, the two agents were floating through the ether of the pre-story Author’s Notes.

Of Lost Ships and Old Friends
by Rachel (a.k.a. Elf/Vampire/Vulcan/Jedi/Thingy)

“You forgot ‘Saiyan,’ put in Lócë sardonically.

The Disclaimer rambled on uninterestingly until: I've only been watching Star Trek since 8:30 PM April 15th this year, so don't expect me to sound like an expert or anything, but it's the coolest thing I've ever seen.

Lócë rolled his eyes. “Here’s a hint: if you know next to nothing about something, don’t write fanfiction about it!”

If you love my story,

Lócë laughed derisively.

or it's awful,

That’s a lot more likely.”

please tell me.

“Don’t worry, we certainly will.”

Chapter 1: An Old 'Friend'

“What is the purpose of those quotation marks?” inquired Infinity.

Lócë shrugged. “Apparently the ‘Sue is not actually a friend, but a ‘friend.’ Whatever that—ack!”

They had just been thrust into the body of the first chapter.

“Paragraphs… all… smashed… together…” whimpered Lócë, rubbing his head.

“The paragraph situation improves in the fifth chapter,” Infinity commented.

“That’s an awfully long time to wait,” Lócë grumbled.

The agents were once again on the bridge of the Enterprise, which was looking perfectly normal aside from the rather generic “older middle aged human male” who was talking with the captain. Lócë discreetly pulled out the C.A.D. and pointed it at the man. The nice thing about missions in the Star Trek continuum was that any PPC technology would easily blend in with the generally sci fi-ish atmosphere.

[Staitaka. Human male. Non canon. Bit character.]

Lócë made a mental note to dispatch the bit character at a later time. He wandered, grinning, around the bridge, content to wait until the ‘Sue arrived aboard the ship. He noticed that Infinity had set the Disguise Generator to make him a random security guard. Now, since there were nearly always two or three generic security guards lurking at the back of the bridge, this was obviously the most logical disguise she could have picked for him.

Unfortunately, in the original series, security guards always wore red.

Lócë grabbed Infinity by the arm (she had been eyeing her own miniskirted uniform uncomfortably) and dragged her into the turbolift.

“What—?” Infinity began, but Lócë interrupted her.

“What did you think you were doing?

“Excuse me?”

“You’ve turned me into a redshirt!

Excuse me?” Infinity looked just as bewildered as before.

Lócë groaned and rolled his eyes despairingly. He would have been pulling his hair out if he’d had any. “I never thought I’d get stuck with a partner who didn’t know one of the most basic laws of Star Trek fandom. Wearing red on the Enterprise is the quickest and easiest way to get yourself killed!”

Infinity attempted to remain calm in the face of her raving partner. “I fail to see the correlation between the two.”

Before Lócë could reply, the turbolift doors opened and Kirk and Spock entered. Startled, Lócë glanced at the Words and saw that the two were heading to the shuttlebay to check out the mysterious shuttlecraft that had just landed there… and would, of course, contain the 'Sue. Forgetting his argument with the Vulcan, he tried to convey to her through wild gestures and facial expressions that they would follow the canon characters to the shuttlebay. The characters, of course, were oblivious, and Lócë realized that he might as well have spoken aloud; it would probably have done something to prevent the exceedingly strange look that his partner was now giving him. Oh well.

Soon they were in the shuttlebay and watching the Enterprise technicians break into the mysterious shuttlecraft. Lócë readied the C.A.D. in anticipation of the Sue’s imminent arrival, setting aside his distress over the color of his uniform for a more convenient moment.

When Kirk, Spock and McCoy went through the newly-created hole in the side of the shuttlecraft, the two PPC agents snuck in after them.

They found Kirk hunched over a body. He got up and revealed what looked like a Vulcan female.

Lócë raised his eyebrows. “What ‘looked like’ a Vulcan female? I would think that the pointed ears would make it pretty obvious whether or not she’s a Vulcan! Or are they in doubt as to whether she’s female?”

“Not entirely obvious; she could easily be a Romulan,” Infinity pointed out reasonably.

She was absolutely beautiful, at least by human standards.

Lócë gritted his teeth. Infinity raised her eyebrows. “‘Human standards’? As far as I am aware, Vulcan standards of beauty are no higher than human ones—though there are some who consider our ears shapely…” She said that last bit as though to suggest that she couldn’t understand humans’ aesthetic preferences, that ears were ears, and what did it matter what they were shaped like?

She wore a blue Starfleet uniform, and beside the sharply pointed ears and slightly greenish cast to her pale skin, she looked almost like a human.

“Well, that’s a shock,” Lócë sarcasmed. “I mean, most Vulcans look completely different from humans.”

Her most noticeable feature

“What, aside from her breathtaking beauty?”

was a large green gem she wore around her neck.

“Hauling around Conspicuously Mysterious Jewelry™ for no apparent reason,” muttered Lócë, adding the gem to his mental charge list.

All three men (yes, that includes Spock) had expressions of complete shock on their faces.

“Pointless and intrusive authorial interruptions,” muttered Lócë. “She hasn’t even woken up yet and I already hate her.”

"T'Kaia," Spock whispered softly in disbelief.

“T’Kaia,” murmured Infinity. “Her name is oddly similar to that of the previous Vulcan!Sue we dispatched.”

Lócë considered. “T’Kana… T’Kaia. You’re right. Further proof that Suethors have no originality.”

The two agents sat down in the back of the shuttlecraft in order to watch the ‘Sue’s introduction scene unfold in front of them. It transpired that the young Vulcan was known to both Spock and Kirk, and that, like the canonical Vulcan, she was half human.

“Yet another one of the universe’s great mysteries: why do Suethors like half-breeds so much?” commented Lócë.

After the ‘Sue’s life story was discussed by the three canon characters, it was finally decided that she should be moved to Sickbay. The two agents then had several hours to kill before the ‘Sue would awake, and Lócë immediately dragged Infinity out into a Random Corridor to finish chewing her out. Then he decided that further discussion of the nature of redshirts was likely to have little effect on the skeptical face before him. The best course of action at the moment would be to fix the problem and get on with the mission. He set the Remote Activator to change him into a blueshirt and conjured up a Portal as Infinity looked on in amazement that he would treat such a ridiculous superstition so seriously. Until now he had seemed like a fairly balanced individual—well, aside from the hair-mutilation incident. But she had been doing her best to forget about that.

Lócë had set the Portal to the same location they currently occupied; that way, he could change his disguise without being transported somewhere else. Just as he was stepping through the Portal, however, the Remote Activator emitted a loud popping sound and a stream of sparks. Infinity started.

Lócë stumbled out the other end of the Portal looking just like he had when he entered it. He looked at his still-red outfit, swore, and snatched up the faulty Remote Activator, resisting the urge to hurl it against the nearest wall. “va! ghay’cha’! baQa’! Hu’tegh!

Infinity kept carefully out of the way of her enraged partner as he stormed across the corridor, swearing profusely in Klingon and ranting about the PPC’s cruddy technology. At length he turned and glared at Infinity. “Now I’m stuck like this until the end of the mission! You may have just gotten me killed—I hope you’re happy. Kahless, I should have chucked you out of the RC and demanded a different partner!”

He continued raving like this for some time, long enough for his anger with her to wear through Infinity’s Vulcan detachment just a little. Enough that she started to feel a bit uncomfortable—and maybe a little guilty. Not so much that she had gotten him “killed” (she still didn’t believe any of this Curse of the Redshirts nonsense) as because of the sheer distress her actions seemed to have caused him.

At last Lócë calmed down enough to sigh and mutter, “No matter. I’ve got to put the mission first. That’s the important thing. Gotta kill the ‘Sue. Kill the 'Sue or die trying.” He glanced at Infinity, who shrank away instinctively. But he only said, “Forget it, kid. I know it’s not your fault. There’s no way you could have known… but never mind.” He paused for a moment, then said, “Come on, let’s go back down to Sickbay. The Words were pretty vague, but it appears that darling T’Kaia is due to be waking up sometime soon.” Without another word, he turned his back and walked off down the corridor. Hesitantly, Infinity followed.

The two agents loitered around Sickbay for about half an hour before their target awoke. While they were waiting, Lócë pulled out the C.A.D. and pointed it at the unconscious Vulcan.

[T’Kaia Jackson. Human/Vulcan female. Mary Sue.]

“‘Jackson’?” wondered Lócë. “She’s a Vulcan!”

“Her father is human,” Infinity reminded him quietly, hoping that he wasn’t about to start biting her head off again. However, he just nodded shortly.

Kirk and Spock wandered into the room right before the ‘Sue woke up, for no logical reason other than the ‘Sue’s desire to wake to see them surrounding her biobed.

She looked up in shock to see two old friends and an old flame staring back at her. And yes, T'Kaia is capable of such, she is more emotionally like her human father than her Vulcan mother, who died when T'Kaia was very young and didn't have an opportunity to turn her into a logical robot (or a normal Vulcan, depending on your viewpoint on the issue). Anyway...

“Ouch,” gasped Lócë, clutching his head. “It’s the Revenge of the Random Tense-Shifting!”

The ‘Sue was speaking.

"First I'm imprisoned in a shuttlecraft by my own captain, now I wake up to see Bones, Spock, and JIM???"

“And excessive punctuation,” Infinity added.

She said these last few words a bit louder.

“As though the CAPSLOCK didn’t clue us in,” muttered Lócë.

Lurking in the back of the Sickbay, the two agents watched the short conversation between the three canon characters and the ‘Sue. Lócë had to admit that at least the spelling, grammar and style were decent, until…

At the sound of the name 'Europa', T'Kaia gave a start. "Nn...nno, I mean, I...I don't know." She began to shake. She made a face, as if swallowing liquid nitrogen.

“Liquid nitrogen?” wondered Infinity.

“Now, that’s a good idea,” said Lócë.

McCoy walked closer to her and rested his hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry, T'Kaia, just try to get some rest."
She smiled up at him. "Okay, Bones, just give me time."

No,” hissed Lócë. “Only Kirk calls him Bones, idiot!”

The ‘Sue was still speaking.

"My oldest friend, my classmate back at the academy, and Jim Kirk all on the same ship." She shook her head again. "It should be impossible. At least all my other old friends aren't here."
"And who would they be?" Kirk asked half-heartedly.

“Gee, I wonder,” said Lócë sardonically.

I know about half the galaxy...but let me see. Well, there's Uhura, she and I shared a room at Starfleet Academy; then there's Montgomery...oh, yes, Scott was his last name. Never met a fellow with better taste in liquor. Then there's old Pavel Chekov, and of course my old sparring partner, Hiraku Sulu. But then again, the odds of me meeting any of them again are approximately 103987508 to one."

There was a short silence, in which the only sound was that of Lócë banging his head against the wall. Infinity quickly grabbed his arm and stopped him, lest the ‘Sue notice the strange behavior of a security guard who really had no reason to be in Sickbay to begin with.

The next semi-important scene would take place a vague, indeterminate time later in some vague, indeterminate briefing room. The two agents decided to head straight there and wait for the characters to show up.

On the way to the briefing room, Lócë seemed unusually clumsy—first he caught his arm in some electrical wires where an engineer was busy fixing part of the corridor’s ceiling, nearly electrocuting himself; then he tripped over a high-tech wrench that somebody had left lying on the floor and nearly bashed his head against the wall. Infinity silently helped him to his feet, wondering silently why he didn't pay more attention to where he was going.

Lócë roughly pulled away from his partner’s helping hands, glaring at her. “You know what this is, don’t you? It’s the Redshirt Effect starting to manifest itself. Fortunately, the interior of the Enterprise normally isn’t a very dangerous place, or I’d probably be dead already. I’d go straight back to HQ and demand Makes-Things to fix the Disguise Generator right now, but I know Upstairs would murder me for leaving a fic without completing the mission. They usually aren’t very logical about these sorts of things.”

Infinity did not bother pointing out that fearing to wear a certain color uniform was hardly the epitome of logic either.

The look Lócë was giving her now was more stern than angry. “Just let this be a lesson to you, kid: when in the Star Trek continuum, never wear red. Neither is it permissible force your partner to wear red. That clear?”

Infinity gave her head a sort of irritated jerk, which could have been interpreted as a nod but which was actually a gesture more along the lines of: I don’t have time for that sort of superstitious nonsense. You’re just in a bad mood because you don’t want to admit you’re naturally clumsy.

Lócë, however, accepted this as an agreement and said no more about it. The two agents reached the briefing room shortly, and found that they were just in time—no sooner had they taken up a position outside the door than Kirk, Spock and McCoy showed up, the ‘Sue in tow.

“That’s the nice thing about Vague, Indeterminate Periods of Time,” Lócë remarked. “You can dawdle all you like and still get there JitNoT.”


“Just in the Nick of Time.” He pulled out the See-Through and set it to look through the wall of the briefing room, so that the assassins could see inside without being noticed by the ‘Sue.

After a few minutes of boring conversation, the talk turned to the subject of T’Kaia’s former captain. “Uh oh,” said Lócë. “I sense a Tragic Past coming on.”

"Well, the ‘Sue was saying, he once beat up a yeoman for questioning an order, he called me a 'half-breed witch' on a regular basis, and kept the crew living in fear. The ship's medical officer was his brother in law and they basically ran things. Oh yeah, and he could beat me in single combat."
This meant nothing to Kirk, but Spock raised his eyebrows and McCoy did a double take at the last comment. T'Kaia, unbeknownst to Kirk, had a reputation for being one of the best fighters in the fleet. In self defense classes at the academy, she had been undefeated.

“Of course,” said Lócë dourly. “Just like every other ‘Sue to grace the USS Enterprise with her presence.”

The chapter ended a few sentences later, and Lócë skimmed ahead in the words. “You know what? Let’s skip this next chapter. Nothing important happens, except that T’Kaia reveals her pet cat…” he grimaced, “named Spock.”

The two agents then portaled into the fourth chapter and found themselves again on the bridge just in time to see T’Kaia’s archenemy, the infamous Captain Ghol, appear on the viewscreen.

“He’s another one we’ll have to get rid of somehow,” muttered Lócë. “After this chapter ends, let’s just portal onto the Europa and kill him. Then we can come back and take out T’Kaia along with that other bit character, Staitaka.”

At that moment, T'Kaia and Spock chose to re-enter the bridge. Spock the Cat was still perched on T'Kaia's shoulder.

Lócë raised his eyebrows at the ridiculous sight. “Listen, ‘Sue, do you have any idea how big cats are, really? They can’t ‘perch’ on anybody’s shoulder that easily!”

The ensuing conversation was fairly dull, other than the occasional moment of hilarity caused by the Writer’s exceedingly odd choice of words.

Ghol faced Kirk and addressed him with a voice like honey and razorblades.

The agents watched with raised eyebrows as the enemy captain opened his mouth and sweet, gooey razorblades came pouring out.

"I commend you on your patience, Captain Kirk. As far as I can tell, you have put up with the witch and her furball for about a day without having to slap her back in her place. Now try it for seven years."

“Interesting,” said Lócë. “He seems to be the only character who sees T’Kaia as she truly is. Then again, he’s known her for seven years; he ought to know what she’s really like.”

The rest of the scene dragged on monotonously, despite a brief interruption when the communications console exploded, until…

"Captain, where should I sleep?" T'Kaia asked.
"Everyone is already sharing with one of Staitaka's people," Uhura commented.
"Yes, and they're even using sick bay," Kirk remembered. A smirk crossed his face. "Since he and I are the only people onboard not already sharing our quarters, you have the choice sharing with me or Spock. Sorry, but with these colonists, the ship is double it's full capacity."
As T'Kaia noticed the look in Kirk's eyes she automatically said "No, Jim. If you're thinking of restarting what we finished about nine years ago..."
"It was the furthest thing from my mind, T'Kaia. Feel free to stay with Spock then. According to most sources, you seem to like each other quite a lot." Kirk's smirk returned with this last comment.

“Oh, how convenient,” muttered Lócë. As soon as the ‘Sue got into the turbolift, he used the Remote Activator to summon up another Portal. The two assassins stepped through it and onto the bridge of the USS Europa.

The officers were too startled to react as a big, burly human and a round-faced Vulcan with strangely uneven hair appeared out of nowhere in the middle of the bridge. In an instant, the human had clapped a phaser to the head of their captain.

“Captain Ghol,” said Lócë, “you are charged with being a Starfleet captain who turns evil for no reason, being an accomplice to a ‘Sue by giving her an Angsty Past™, and for inexplicably having, ah, ‘silvery-violet’ eyes. For these crimes you are sentenced to death. Any last words?”

“This is an outrage!” Ghol growled. “You—“

Lócë fired the phaser. The bit character glowed brightly for an instant and then vanished.

A second later the phaser began to emit a high-pitched whining sound. Lócë cursed and flung it across the bridge, where it exploded in a burst of white sparks.

Startled, Infinity stared at the smoking hole in the Communications console until Lócë grabbed her by the arm and hauled her back through the Portal.

“What happened?” she questioned as soon as they were back on the Enterprise.

“Redshirt luck,” he said simply. “We’ve got to end this mission and get out of here fast.” With that, he strode right into the nearest rec room, where T’Kaia was in the middle of a late-night heart-to-heart with Lieutenant Commander Staitaka. Infinity hurried after him.

T’Kaia looked up in surprise just as Lócë grabbed her arm with one hand and reached for his phaser with the other. “All right,” he said, “We’re—“ He paused. His phaser was gone. Of course it was gone—it had overloaded on the Europa!

All these thoughts had barely had time to pass through his head when T’Kaia twisted out of his grip and flung him against the far wall. Not for nothing was she considered “one of the best fighter in the fleet.” Neither was Lócë assisted by the canon’s determination to kill off any character in red. The ‘Sue hurled Lócë so hard that as he slammed into the wall there was a loud crack, and then he fell onto the floor, motionless. Pain stabbed at him all over; he was sure he’d broken several bones, and it felt as though a rib had punctured a lung. He gasped for breath. “Infinity…”

Infinity who had watched all of this transpire, stood rooted to the ground in shock. Then, coming to her senses, she reached for her own phaser with lightning speed and pointed it directly at T’Kaia. “Don’t move,” she said coldly, sounding a lot more Vulcan than she felt. Staitaka was standing by the back wall, his gaze darting from Infinity to T’Kaia to Lócë’s crumpled form, apparently unsure of what he ought to do.

“Infinity…” coughed Lócë again, struggling not to lose consciousness. “Kill her.”

For a long moment Infinity stood frozen, not knowing what to do. Centuries of Vulcan teaching warred with the present moment, in which her partner was lying helplessly on the floor, dying perhaps. He need to get to Medical now.

But she had to finish the mission first.

“Commander T’Kaia,” she said in a flat voice, utterly devoid of intonation, “you are charged with poor paragraph alignment, misuse of quotation marks, improper tense-shifting, describing yourself as ‘absolutely beautiful,’ possessing Conspicuously Mysterious Jewelry, use of ludicrous similes, calling Dr. McCoy by his nickname, having extremely improbable connections to all of the major canon characters, having a reputation for being ‘one of the best fighters in the fleet,’ naming your cat Spock, and,” her face paled, “attempting to murder my partner.”

“Lieutenant Commander Staitaka, you are charged with being her accomplice. Both of you are sentenced to death.”

Without waiting for last words, Infinity swiftly vaporized both OCs and then compulsively jerked her hand back and dropped the phaser as though it had burned her. Trying not to think about what she had just done, she hurried over to her bleeding and unconscious partner, face white and eyes wide, and picked up the Remote Activator that lay on the floor next to him. She knew that, superior Vulcan strength notwithstanding, she would not be able to lift him—even leaving aside the fact that she was rather out of shape. So she opened a Portal into Medical in the floor of the rec room and, with help from Dr. Fitzgerald, lowered Lócë into it.


When Lócë awoke several hours later, he was lying on a bed in Medical and, interestingly enough, didn’t seem to be dead. In fact, he'd never felt better. Amazing what modern medical science could do.

Infinity was sitting in a chair next to his bed, quietly reading a manual of PPC technology. She looked over at that moment and saw that he was awake. He noticed that her face was unusually pale and drawn. “Lócë!” she gasped, plainly upset. “I am so sorry. It was my fault—I set the Disguise Generator—”

“S’okay, kid,” Lócë murmured. “This is the PPC; stuff like this happens all the time.” He smiled weakly at her and then closed his eyes and slept.

Infinity watched him sleep for a little while, wondering at how worried she had been that he wasn’t going to make it. It was rather surprising how fond she had become of Lócë in the short time that she had known him. It was terribly un-Vulcan, certainly… but perhaps that was not such a very bad thing after all.

{A/N: This fic was abandoned years ago, and its writer has since vanished without a trace. I did, however, leave a review of helpful criticism on the off-chance that she ever returns to the world of ff.net.

I must admit, I'm having more fun with this PPCing thing than I ever expected to. I welcome comments, nitpicking, whatever. Tell me what you think!}

Mon, Oct. 16th, 2006 03:23 am (UTC)

Cool! Just one question, though: is Loce a human or a Klingon?

Mon, Oct. 16th, 2006 08:59 pm (UTC)

He's a human... he just thinks that Klingons are very cool.