<USS Banshee> Severe Hangover?
- From: EnsnSaraCrusher@xxxxxxx
- To: ussbanshee@xxxxxxxxxxxxx
- Date: Thu, 3 Apr 2003 22:16:15 EST
*Heather's e-mail is being evil so I'm sending this for her..
"Severe Hangover? Well...minus the headache."
By: Ensign Heather Mclouson
I woke up in the Star Fleet personnel building. Looking around I was very
confused. My clothes were back to normal, I was in the same room I had asked
for when Banshee had docked, and as far as I could tell time hadn't moved
from when we first arrived.
What had happened? Was it all a dream? I was getting nervous, my mind was
starting to fuzz on me again. I couldn't lose it now...I had to figure out
what was going on.
I called down to the front desk asking for the date, slightly relieved to
find out it was a few days after Banshee had let us out for shore leave. But
as I looked out the small window in my room I was disturbed. It was night
again.
Wait...again? What was going on? Why couldn't I remember anything that
had happened in the last few days?. I stood from the bed pacing the small
space. Come on...come on...Okay Russia...right I was in Russia. Why?
The answers weren't coming...in fact, they were eluding me. I couldn't
see through the fog enough to make out any details of what I had done the
past few days. General ideas yes...details no.
This was ridiculous, how was I supposed to account for my time on Earth
if I couldn't account for where the past two days had gone?
I checked through my stuff, trying to see if I had brought anything back
from...right Russia, that would trigger my memory. Nope, nothing. Clothes,
all of it. Nothing unusual or anything...wait.
"What's this?" I pulled a long thin tube out of my bag. It was small,
only about seven inches long, and polished silver. There were no markings on
it of any kind.
I sat on the bed looking at it. There had to be some logical explination
as to why I had it...or what I was supposed to do with it. Carefully
inspecting it I found nothing that woud give me any clue.
Frustrated I threw it at the wall, satisfied as it fell and rolled around
on the floor. But wait...what was that noise? I picked it up again wondering
if it hadn't made the squeak that I heard....
Curious, I tapped it on the edge of the desk in my room. There it was
agin. Only this time in a different pitch. I continued the tapping and the
pitches continued to change until my ear caught the initial pattern.
What was this thing? And even more puzzling...why did I have it? I would
deffinately be spending the rest of my 'shore leave' trying to figure out
some of the mysteries I had gathered about me.
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