[USS Vanguard] RPG: From the Past, A Ghost Walks

  • From: "Andy W. Ho" <andywoho@xxxxxxxxx>
  • To: USS-Vanguard <ncv80221@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>
  • Date: Wed, 5 Jun 2002 16:45:42 -0700 (PDT)

OoC: Before you dive into the post, let me explain a little bit about
what's going on. I'm going to try to write enough posts to cover
EVERYONE and embroil them in a little controversy or adventure. Time
permitting, this is all I could do tonight.

I'll be picking all these threads up in the next couple of days and
hopefully, by Saturday, I can have something cohesive going on for

In the meantime, here's a taste of what your character may expect. Read
and enjoy and know that I'm still here making up ideas ;-), but keep
this one in your backpocket until later. Okay for right now, Alexa and
Mel? :-)

FlCapt. Dominic Santos
Starbase Brigadoon
Indeterminate time in the future after all recent posts


"Control, this is passenger shuttle Chrysanthemum. Requesting status,

"Chrysanthemum, we have you on long-range scanners. You're in the queue
behind USS Thomas Edison and frigate Fool's Errand. Have your clearance
codes ready."

"Ah, acknowledge that, and say again, Control. Did you say 'clearance'?
As in 'before we're docked'?"

"That's A-1, Chrysanthemum. We have a new sheriff in town -- the
station commander takes security pretty seriously."

The shuttle pilot laughed. "I copy that, Control. Thanks for the
warning. Chrysanthemum out."

"Right-o. Just get in line and we'll try to have you in under thirty
minutes. Or it's free." Control toggled off communications with an
equipment chirp.

The pilot laughed again. Here's a control operator who enjoys her job,
he thought. And people who enjoy their work usually have supervisors
they enjoy.

Fifteen minutes later, Max "Bags" Loeper eased Chrysanthemum into
Docking Bay 47-E at Starbase Brigadoon. Not bad for a dairy farmboy
from Salinas, California, the pilot thought.

Loeper had woken up that morning and congratulated himself on 30
successful shuttle runs.

Long-range passenger-shuttle piloting was not glamorous work, but Trill
was along his circuit. He passed the symbiotes' home planet every four
or five days and, as luck would have it, had two days stopover each
trip, twice the normal leave after completing a circuit.

And Trill was the reason he had applied for the hyper-learning courses
and tested for his pilot's license.

He had met her almost a year ago when she vacationed at Half Moon Bay.

Dellana was a student from Trill. After a three-week whirlwind romance,
they went through the tearful goodbyes and the promises to visit.

Never one to let go easily, Max had seen the holo-ad seeking shuttle
pilots during an intermission at one of his holo-games.

Now Max enjoyed the best of both worlds: he saw Dellana once a week for
two days and also made the trip home to Earth once a week for overnight

Max tilted the cap back on his head and wiped his brow. He had heard
Brigadoon's architecture was unique, but he had no idea how unique it
would be. The umbilicus linked the docking bay to the promenade, rather
than to the secondary quarters like on Cardassian bases or storage
areas like Federation ones.

Max had a look around and saw throngs of people milling around and a
thousand goings-on: a Bolian barked his wares in front of his exotic
reptile emporium, two Andorian accommodation hostesses sashayed by
Max's field of vision, Starfleet officers walked next to Romulan
officers, discussing their plans or studying their PADDs.

Since it was his first run to Brigadoon, Max couldn't wait to see it.
He had heard there was a Klingon barbecue restaurant that was terrific.

Max stood at the umbilicus and did his job as company policy dictated.

"Thank you for flying with Gossamer Trailways. Thank you, thank you,
bye now, buh-bye."

The last passenger rose slowly from his seat in the back.

He cleared his throat and slowly made his way forward.

Max watched him approach and tried to hide his frown. Why was the last
passenger always the troublemaker?

Then he noticed that the man's Trill spots were..."pale" was the only
word that came to mind. Did that happen to Trill? He glanced quickly at
the passenger manifest on his PADD.

Sachim Delta. What kind of name was THAT?

Max watched as Sachim walked toward him. He opened his mouth as if to
say something then suddenly collapsed in the aisle.

Max rushed up to him and began yelling for help.


Doctor Xristha Droin ran the medical tricorder over her patient's prone
form, shaking her head.

The doors opened behind her with a "swoosh" and Zena Quetan walked in.

"Did you want to see me, Xristha?"

Dr. Droin calmly placed the instruments on the surgical tray before
turning around to face Zena.

"I think you should see my new patient, Zena. Normally, I wouldn't even
discuss patient history with anyone else but the patient, he's carrying
a message for you."

Zena blinked at the doctor. "For me? But...I've never seen him before
in my life."

"There's more. He's a Trill, obviously, but he's joined."

"That's not unusual. We sometimes accept younger candidates like him."

"I was going to say that he's joined...with an artificial symbiote."

The two women stared at each other.

"You...had something to do with the scandal on Trill last year, didn't
you? I have friends on the Commission. I hear things."

Zena turned away and stared at Patient Delta. His chest rose slowly,
but steadily. He had not regained consciousness.

"We need to inform the captain," Quetan replied.

"I already did. He's on his way."

[To be continued.]

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