Literary Challenge #28 : Stranded
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Join Date: Sep 2012
My Secret Vacation (Unexpected Holiday Part II)
09-24-2012, 08:24 AM
Personal Log, supplemental:
Admiral Quinn was na' ... delighted, let's say, 'bout my bein' marooned nor the events wha' transpired on that lovely wee planetoid. Th' words 'Conduct Unbecoming' were used.
In my defense, let me back up a bit, though... First, Ensign Cabana Boy did'na care for me choice of music while workin' on th' runabout's engines an' such. Me, I'm a fan o'late Twentieth an' early Twenty-First classical music, but even if he did'na like Iron Maiden, Queensryche, Rammstein, Led Zeppelin, th' Grateful Dead, or Bob Seger, he could'a just asked an' I would'a stuck it in me earbug.
But nooooooo, Ensign Smartypants 'ad t'steal me music player. This, o'course, was mutiny. I did'na 'ave a plank handy, but I 'ad plenty o'rope, so I tied 'im to a tree. Serves 'im right, the wanker broke me runabout an' tossed me music player int'a th' ocean. Left 'im there overnight.
So the next mornin', the tosser's got a phaser on me an' is tryin' t'relieve me from duty! Somethin' about bein' a disgrace t'the uniform, a drunken pirate, an' a mental case. This, dear diary, was th' last ****in' straw: I be neither a disgrace to th' uniform nor do I 'ave toys in me attic. He wanted a pirate? I'd give 'im a pirate queen!
Picture this, diary: A stout Welsh lass, lean and muscular but still shapely at about two meters' height, wi' raven-black hair an' cold blue eyes, her uniform cut into a halter-top an' beach shorts, pilotin' a makeshift sailboat across a bay for a fishin' trip wi' a phaser-saw for a cutlass, a plasma pistol for a flintlock, a strip of red uniform for a bandana, an' a disobedient ensign tied t'th' mast.
Good times. What got creepier was when Ensign Scurvy Dog started gettin' into it, like some sort o' fancy dress roleplay thing where people end up all sweaty and tired afterward. Thankfully, after trussin' Ensign Sharkbait up an' makin' me pirate costume, I 'ad enough spare time t' cobble together a power source, a warp coil, an' a jackleg engine enough t'get said coil into low orbit, where th'power source started it oscillatin'. Sure, we did'na 'ave subspace comms, but a 'flare' works just as well as a distress call. The
was there within th' next few days, we salvaged th'
marked the place for th' crew barbecue beach party next month, an' went on our merry way.
Th' Admiral wasn'a 'appy, at all, an' has slapped the entire thing into sealed records. No court-martial, not even captains' mast. He feels that if word got out, it could harm Starfleet's reputation in a time o'war on multiple fronts. I can see the logic in that...
...But I still look stonking good in a pirate outfit. Now if I can just get Ensign Creeper to stop droolin' every time he sees me, we'll be tip-top.
-Commander Moira Stern
USS Paragon, NCC-946478-A
Last edited by evilbenfranklin; 09-24-2012 at
. Reason: Correction to last paragraph