FAQing Hostile Created by Twoflower This part by Clint Milton Suddenly, a bluish-white light appeared between Vixen and Kares. Little sparkles, like glitter in water, swirled in the light as a vaguely human outline took shape. Seconds later, and a redshirt armed with what looked like a Glock appeared and took aim at Kares. "Drop it, Kares," the redshirt said, pulling back on the hammer. "Don't make me repeat myself. This is not set to stun. Drop it now." Kares' eyes narrowed in hate. "Don't you pretend to threaten me, Redshirt," he growled, "you have no idea the power I wield." "The name is Cisco and I know all about you, Kares. Everyone knows what happened to your namesake in TNG." "What are you doing this far out from DS9, Cisco?" "Shore leave." Here Kares chuckled, which started Cisco laughing as well. Soon, both men were laughing up a storm. Needless to say, Vixen was confused. But nothing could prepare her for what happened next. "You guys want to get me some soap?" the president asked. "This stuff isn't exactly safe for clothes." Here Vixen fainted. * * * * * Vixen opened her eyes to some guy in a blue shirt running a box up and down her body while making a strange, whirring sound with his mouth. Seeing that she was awake, the man shut the box and turned to the President. "She'll be alright, she just fainted," the blueshirted fellow said. "Thanks, doctor," the president responded, "I'll expect a full report on my desk no later than 0900 stardate 46783.1." The doctor nodded and left. The president then turned to Kares. "Sir, I'm impressed with the results of tonight's drill," Kares stated, his eyes scanning the report in his hands. "Cisco's response time was impeccable and he should be commended." "Agreed," the President replied, "Cisco will be put on the promotion list. How about our prisoner?" "She behaved within perceived parameters for this drill." "And `she,'" Vixen put in bitterly, "is very pissed off. Now does somebody want to tell me what the hell is going on?" "Starfleet Anti-Invasion/Assassination Drill number 36 Alpha," Kares responded without looking up from his report. "Reaction to the President being killed by a hostile `plant.' Number of hostages/scapegoats: one, a female guest." "You folks sure are . . . thorough," Vixen said, shaking her head. "We have to be prepared for any type of attack," the President said gravely, "we aren't exactly . . . well-liked by the many planets around us; especially since we refuse to divulge the schematics of our transporters or Impulse engines." "Why won't you?" "It violates our highest law: The Prime Directive." Seeing Vixen's blank look, Kares stepped in. "The Prime Directive states that we can't get involved or influence other planets and their development." "But didn't you violate that law when you brought us in?" Vixen asked, scratching her head. "You'd think so," the president added, "but we can't very well influence the development of a planet that has been destroyed, now can we?" Vixen had to concede that point. Her head hurt, a side effect from prolonged exposure to Trekkers. She stood up and faced the small group. "Well," she began, "if there's nothing else you need me for, I'll be leaving now." It wasn't what she wanted to say, but she had decided that diplomacy would be better here. Saying "F*** off" to a group of armed Trekkers would hardly be a good idea, especially since she had no weapon on her. The President smiled. "No, you're free to go," he answered. "If you need anything at all, President Kirk is at your command." He gave Vixen a smile that seemed to say "And I do mean anything" but instead of the desired reaction, it only served to creep her out. She left the room, shut the door, took two steps, and shuddered uncontrollably. "Trekkers," she muttered disdainfully. * * * * * "What are you doing, Dave?" Sherman asked in a monotone voice. Dave, who was pouring over the FAQ, looked up. "I'm studying the FAQ, Sherman," Dave answered, checking to make sure Sherman's hatch was shut. He had wanted some privacy, and the tank seemed to be the best choice. When staying in an unfamiliar place and looking for privacy, he reflected, nothing beats a tank. "I could do that for you, Dave," Sherman responded. "You could, but that wouldn't help me learn it." "I see. I shall leave you to your studies then, Dave." Dave lowered his head and returned to the FAQ. As his eyes scanned the page, his brow furrowed and his eyes narrowed. He ran his fingers over the page, separating line from line. "Sherman?" "Yes, Dave?" "Could you scan this page for me?" "That isn't necessary, Dave. I have the entire FAQ in my data banks. Which page is giving you trouble?" "No trouble, I just want you to analyze a program with certain parameters." "Which page, Dave?" "Page 176." "Processing." There was a small whirring noise, followed by a click. "I have the page, Dave. Shall I display it on a viewing screen?" "That won't be necessary, Sherman. Just pick out every seventeenth letter and display them on the screen." "Processing." Another small whir was heard, and the letter W appeared on the screen. This was soon followed by an H, an A, and a T. Soon, another A, an R, and an E appeared. More letters followed these, and Dave was writing them all down like a madman. Finally the whirring stopped. "Is that it?" Dave asked. "Those are all the letters that fit your parameters, Dave," Sherman replied. Dave studied the piece of paper, adding spaces where he thought they fit. Finally, he put the pen down and read what he saw. "What . . . are . . . you . . . looking . . . at?" he read slowly, almost reverently. His heart skipped a beat as he realized that this was truly something special to be treasured. "Sherman, I think we've stumbled upon the greatest find in Otaku history. I need you to run the same program over the entire FAQ, starting with page one." "That will take several days, Dave." Clutching the FAQ to his chest, Dave breathed a sigh of contentment. "I'm in no hurry," he whispered, running his fingers over the front of the FAQ. * * * * * In a deep, underground cave, a ceremony was about to begin. One by one, the strange robed figures filed into the room and circled around the table. One of the figures stepped forward and lit the candle in front of him. "We gather to call our lord," he intoned. A second figure stepped forward and lit his candle. "We gather to dispel the darkness of disorder with the light of unity," he chanted. A third figure stepped forward and lit his candle. "We gather to bring about the next golden age," he drawled out in a monotone voice. A fourth figure sighed and went for the light switch. "For crying out loud," he vented, "do we HAVE to do this every time we get together?" He flipped the switch, and light filled the room. "You're young," the first figure said, "so I'm sure our lord won't hold what you just said against you. We do what we do because our lord wants it. What our lord wants, our lord gets." "Yeah, well, I just don't see why this is so important. It feels so . . . hokey." "Do you see those people around us?" the second figure said, gesturing to the other figures around them. "They're what we call Extras. They don't speak; partly because no one cares what they have to say and partly because our lord decreed that their tongues be removed and used for typewriter ribbons. They questioned the will of our lord, and they paid the price." "Now," the third figure said, staring at the younger member, "are there any other questions?" "Just one," the young man replied as he hastily shut the lights off and returned to his place around the table. "What was my line again?" "We gather . . ." "Oh yeah, I remember. We gather to offer up the world to our lord that he may rule it and there be peace in the land again. Come, our lord! We, your loyal and willing servants, beseech you!" The table flickered, then glowed brightly as the image of a face swirled into focus. "IT TOOK YOU LONG ENOUGH!" the face bellowed. "WHAT WAS THE HOLD-UP?" The robed figures cowered away from the table, trembling. "F . . . forgive us, our lord," the first figure stammered out. "It . . . it's Toby. He's new, you see, and . . ." "SILENCE! I CARE NOT FOR EXCUSES! DO YOU, MY HIGH PRIEST, WANT TO BE DEMOTED TO EXTRA?" Thunder boomed on the word "extra." The high priest cringed and bit his tongue. "N-n-no, my lord." He fell face first to the floor. "Forgive me, my lord, I beg of you. Grant me mercy!" "SILENCE! YOU FAIL ME AGAIN, AND I'LL DO FAR WORSE THAN MAKE YOU AN EXTRA. NOW, REPORT." The second figure hesitantly stepped forward and glanced at his notes. "Ah, yes," he said, glancing at his notes. "We are happy to report that we have Viruses in every known Tribe. All are waiting for your command code, my lord. You say the word, and we will unite the Tribes by force under your Operating System." "EXCELLENT," the face shouted. "NOW, WHAT ABOUT THOSE OTAKU SURVIVORS?" The third figure stepped forward. "We have them in Starfleet," he said confidently. "Our Virus there is keeping a close eye on things." "My lord," Toby stammered, "I'm confused. Didn't you say to leave the Otaku alone? That they didn't pose a threat?" "SILENCE! I WILL NOT HAVE MY WORDS QUESTIONED. THE OTAKU ARE UNKNOWN VARIABLES. THEY MUST BE MADE CONSTANT. IF THEY ATTEMPT TO INTERFERE WITH MY PLANS, THEY MUST BE . . . PURGED." Toby cringed as the thunder boomed on the word "purged." "So what do we do, my lord?" "I WOULD HAVE THOUGHT THAT TO BE OBVIOUS. YOU MONITOR THEM AND MAKE SURE THAT THEY DON'T STUMBLE UPON OUR PLANS. I WANT NO MORE SCREW UPS LIKE THAT ATTEMPT TO FRAME THE EARS FOR THE DESTRUCTION OF OTAKULAND." "But, my lord," the high priest, who had originally conceived that plan, stammered out, "it did work. The Otaku renegades went straight for Epcot without even considering that there were any other options." "SILENCE! THERE WERE TOO MANY INCONSISTENCIES. YOU DIDN'T DO ENOUGH RESEARCH! EVERYONE KNOWS THE RELATIONSHIP THE EARS HAVE WITH AOL! WHAT ON EARTH POSESSED YOU TO SEND THE EXTRAS WITH THEIR OWN CELL PHONES? WHY DID YOU EVEN GIVE THEM CELL PHONES? THEY CAN'T TALK!" Toby couldn't answer, he was too busy trying not to mess his robe. The head paused, and recollected itself. "LOOK, I'M REASONABLE. YOU HAVE ONE LAST CHANCE. DO EXACTLY WHAT I TELL YOU. FAIL ME AGAIN, TOBY, AND YOU'LL JOIN THE RANKS OF THE EXTRAS." Toby fell face first into the ground and muttered uncontrollably for a few minutes. "THE REST OF YOU, LISTEN WELL. THE OTAKU ARE TO BE WATCHED. IF IT IS DETERMINED THAT THEY ARE DETRIMENTAL TO MY PLANS, OUR VIRUSES ARE TO BE ACTIVATED. THEY WILL KNOW HOW TO DEAL WITH THEM IN SUCH A WAY THAT IT CANNOT BE TRACED BACK TO US. UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES IS OUR PLAN TO BE UNEARTHED. THESE OTAKU ARE SOMETHING THAT HASN'T BEEN SEEN IN THIS LAND FOR A LONG TIME." "Belligerent?" the high priest offered. "Gutsy?" the second figure put forth. "Annoying?" Toby said, looking up from the ground. "LUCKY," the face finished. "THEY HAVE NEAR UNEARTHLY LUCK. LUCK IS A VARIABLE WE CAN'T AFFORD TO OVERLOOK. WATCH THEM. THAT IS ALL." The image snapped off, leaving the robed figures alone. "I hate it when he does that," the high priest stated. That pretty much summed up the feelings of everyone in the room. They all filed out, one by one. * * * * * Rachel slumped back in what passed for her chair. Her last dark and spooky candle was smoldering before her. She had long since run out of spooky looking make-up and it appeared that she wouldn't find any dark colors here. The only make-up she had found were too bright or too . . . inhuman. "Some Goth I turned out to be," she muttered. "I can't even develop the most basic level of the Aura of Apathy. If my parents could care, they'd be ashamed of me." She blinked back tears, looking quickly around to make sure nobody was around. The others hated her, she was sure of it. And try as she might, she just couldn't not care about that. Even Dave must hate her after that "attempt" at seduction she pulled. Dave. Why did she do that anyway? What was it about him that . . . affected her? She couldn't think of anything about him that was special. He was a plain old Pop Rocker. She hated pop rock and everything it stood for. Granted, there were a few songs she enjoyed . . . She shuddered at that thought. Back to Dave. The more she thought of it, the more only one glaring thing stood out to her. Vixen. She seemed to have some feelings of some sort for Dave. That was obvious to just about everyone, but since Rachel's a Goth, however bad a Goth she may be, she's attuned to emotions. After all, you have to learn to identify all signs of emotion before you can learn to supress them. She had been watching Vixen for quite a while, and all the signs were there. Oddly, it looked like Vixen was either indeceive or unaware of these feelings. Well, Rachel thought, I can help her make her choice. It's a very Goth thing to do, making others jealous. She smiled darkly. "I'll prove to myself that I can be a good Goth," she uttered. * * * * * The last of the supplies were being loaded into Sherman as probably the last surviving otaku traveling in a tank named Sherman looked on. Vixen went over the list again, then looked over at the president of Starfleet. "I don't know what to say," she said, "you've done so much for us." "Don't give it another thought," the president replied. "It's our way to help those in need. You don't need to thank us." "It's not that, it's . . ." "H3y, s1s," B1ff called from near the tank, "th3 t4nk's 4ll l04d3d up. Y0u r34dy t0 g0 or wh4t?" Vixen sighed. "Be right there. Get everyone inside Sherman and prepare to leave." "G0t 1t." He disappeared into the tank. Vixen looked back to the President. "Look . . ." she started. The President held up a hand. "Say no more," he said, "I understand." His fingers parted right down the middle and he extended his thumb out to the side. "Peace and long life." He appeared to be waiting for a response from Vixen. Her mind raced, delving back into her "Inter-Tribal Relations" classes, which she slept through. "I should know this," she muttered. Finally, it came to her. She shot her hand up in a barely passable version of the symbol he was showing (while his fingers on either side were together, hers had a fair amount of space between them.) and said "Live long and propagate." She smiled and walked away; leaving the President stunned. Vixen slammed Sherman's hatch shut. "Sherman, get us out of here." "Your heading, Miss?" "Anywhere, just get us out of here." "As you wish, Miss." The tank roared to life and sped off out of Trekker territory. Dave turned to Phreakachu. "Man, those were the weirdest people I've ever met," Dave remarked. "Pika," Phreakachu agreed. * * * * * The two redshirt watched as the tank sped off. "Man," one said, turning to face the other, "those folks sure were weird." * * * * * Author's Note: Well, here it is at last. I had no idea this would happen. It's amazing how many things conspire against you when you actually set out to do something. I did learn the value of saving, however. Too bad I had to learn it the hard way. Well, it's done now. See you folks later.