Mib Khan, Medical Officer, USS Murgatroid's Journal|
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|Thursday, October 30th, 2008|
|Efficiency, thy name is Murgatroid
"Commander Khan, you may hand over the bridge to me. You are off duty until your next rotation." Khan, relieving Khan, was relieved to see Khan leave the bridge. Khan had clearly been there a couple of hours too long and needed a break.mib_khan
entered the bridge turbolift and stated as clearly as he could (given his state of exhaustion) "Deck Four". The turbolift doors closed, and so did Khan's eyes. The ride to Deck Four wasn't that far, but every second counted when it was a second of sleep he could have. He experienced a sensation of movement inside the lift, and then opened his eyes when he heard the doors open again. Looking out onto chaos, he rubbed his eyes, then blinked again. Nope, it didn't help. Everyone walking around Deck Four was upside down.
Someone walked past the turbolift door. Reaching out, Khan snagged the crewman's elbow and pulled him into the lift. The man did a flip in mid-air and landed right-side-up (per Khan's orientation), feet down on the turbolift floor. Khan sighed. This was clearly going to take more consciousness than he had to spare for the moment. He grabbed a hypospray and self-injected a short-acting sleep blocker. He gave it a second to take effect, then said, "Are you some kind of acrobat? What's going on out there?"
The crewman grinned. "Nope, but my Starfleet Academy alternate-g maneuvers are coming back to me pretty quickly. It's easy to get used to the change once you remember that we're in space. Why do
all the decks have to be oriented the same way when you're in microgravity?"
Khan sighed again. "Crewman, you're making way too much sense. By definition, that means none of the crew's usual sots and imbiciles came up with whatever's going on. Was it ifix
?" The crewman nodded. Khan dismissed the crewman, then slapped his combadge and ordered a point-to-point transport to the vicinity of Ifix. He was less sleepy, but no less exhausted, and he didn't want to have to climb or jump to the Chief Engineer.
The transporter system had either been programmed to orient him right-side up to Ifix or simply included protocols to reassemble transportees perpendicular to the local gravity gradient. Khan didn't care, but was satisfied that his brain wasn't further bent. The Chief Engineer looked up at Khan quizzically; he appeared to be stripping the gravity shielding off a gravstator at his desk in Engineering. A number of similarly-altered stators surrounded Ifix.
"Ifix, I was simply trying to go to bed. Please, for the love of all that's good and hallucinogenic, tell me why Deck 4 has been reassembled upside down?"
Ifix nodded. "Save energy. Improvements!" Khan slapped his forehead. This was going to take a while. Ifix sensed his commander's frustration and went over to a replicator. "Ifix sandwich demonstration display, open-face." He then ordered the same thing, closed face, and pulled a few green plastic soldiers off his desktop somewhere. The sandwiches were a layer of sauerkraut, swiss cheese, corned beef, Russian dressing and rye bread of the type colloquially called a 'Reuben'. Khan's mouth began to water...it had been a long time since food, too.
Ifix pointed to the meat. "Gravstator". He pointed to the cheese, which was on top of the meat, melted and fragrant. "Grav shielding." He pointed to the sauerkraut. "Underdeck, above ceiling. He pointed at the bread on top of the sauerkraut, and said "Ceiling, lower-deck", and at the bread on the bottom of the sandwich, "Floor, upper deck." He then grabbed the sandwich and flipped it over. "Normal state on ship - floor, gravstator, gravshielding, underdeck, ceiling." He stuck a couple of plastic soldiers on the top (previously bottom) piece of bread, and handed the first sandwich to Khan. He then grabbed the open-face sandwich, peeled the cheese off of it (and tossed it behind him, where it stuck to a wall panel) and began to point again. "Gravstator" - at the meat. He added sauerkraut to both sides of the meat, and then stuck bread on both sides of the sauerkraut, mentioning "underdeck" and "floor" in relation to the two components. When he finished his masterpiece, Khan had finished the first Reuben. And the soldiers. He'd been hungry. Ifix stuck soldiers on both sides of the bread, oriented feet-down to the bread.
Khan licked his fingers, then said, "Okay, let me see if I got it. The purpose of the grav shielding on the underside of the grav stators is so that crewmen walking on Deck Four don't get stuck to the ceiling...the underside of Deck Three. The grav stators have to be machined precisely so that the field of the stator on the decks above and below don't interfere with each other, and that requires the shielding...which adds to the mass of the ship and also requires power." Ifix nodded. "So, if we skip the shielding, and simply walk around on unshelded stators, with floor on the tops and bottoms of the stators...?" Ifix nodded again.
Khan blinked. "How much power and mass are
we saving, out of curiosity?" Ifix turned around, pulled the cheese off the display, cleaned it with an elbow, and tapped a few keys to bring up a graph. Khan's eyes widened. Ifix shrugged apologetically. "Only Decks 1 through 5 converted so far. More yet to save!" He tapped the display again, and the graph extended further through time, showing additional improvements.
Khan looked at Ifix. "Did you tell Captain Storvik about this, yet?" The engineer shook his head no. Khan tapped his combadge. "Khan to Storvik. Captain, I recommend you take a point-to-point transport to my location. And bring your appetite." Khan munched gently on a plastic soldier. They weren't too bad, once you added the Russian dressing. Current Mood: creative
|Friday, March 14th, 2008|
A Khan walked into Sickbay. He blinked, and thought to himself, "Is this a joke?" There were four other Khans there, and no patients. They looked at him and said in unison, "Don't bother. Our schedules also say we're supposed to be here." The fifth Khan blinked again, and said, "I see you're ahead of me. Do we need five of us here?" The other four Khans shrugged, then shook their heads.
The doors opened, and a sixth Khan stepped in. "Sorry, my bad. I was rearranging the upcoming schedules and must have glitched it somehow. I'm
here. Y'all are scheduled for Nine Backward." He stepped out of the way as the whooping Khans stampeded out of Sickbay and towards the holoturbolift. Current Mood: giddy
|Wednesday, August 1st, 2007|
|I remember doing the Time Warp
His Royal Multiplicity, King Khan of Khanworld, turned to his Prime Minister and smiled. All the Khans on Khanworld had received an update at the same time regarding the events that happened in the Apollo system
, so there was no reason to talk. Prime Minister Khan passed the smile along to Security Minister Khan, who tapped a button, opening a door at the end of the royal hall. Stepping into the room was a female Vulcan, tsorvik
. T'Sorvik was wearing a nonstandard Vulcan outfit, a jumpsuit with a fractal-geometry pattern on it that seemed to move over time, causing tearing from the eyes of anyone who stared at it long enough. T'Sorvik appeared to have reached maturity, which on a Vulcan meant anywhere from 25 to 85 standard years old.
T'Sorvik raised an eyebrow. "It is done?"
"As per our contract," replied King Khan, "You, your two parents and T'Vit have succeeded in taking the Ankh
and have performed a slingshot maneuver around the Apollo star. You're the one with transtemporal future technology, so you can tell better than we as to whether or not the time-space continuum has achieved all the loops it is supposed to have regarding your own existence."
The pattern on T'Sorvik's jumpsuit flashed and changed, moving to a design somewhat reminiscent of a garb made from chain mail. Some of the loops met with larger numbers of their neighbors than others and seemed to swell or shrink on their own accord, which meant the outfit retained its eyestrain-causing capabilities. T'Sorvik nodded, and held out her hand, palm up. A Federation-standard data chip materialized on it, then wafted out of T'Sorvik's hand and into the waiting hand of the King. "Agreed. Here is your payment. If you put that information to good use, Khanworld should be free of economic concerns in the timespan we discussed."
Prime Minister Khan cleared his throat, and said, "It has been a pleasure doing business with you. I'm sure you'll let us know if we can be of additional assistance." T'Sorvik nodded, then smiled, and faded away. The smile was the last part of her to disappear.
A door opened, and Science Minister Khan stepped into the room. "Temporal anomalies resolved. T'Sorvik appears to be gone."
"Good," replied King Khan. "She may pay well, but her smile freaks me out." He tossed the chip to his Prime Minister and said, "Alright. Let's get to work." Current Mood: loopy
|Friday, November 3rd, 2006|
Murgical Osshiffer Khan...pershonal germeral entree. Statush: drunk. Drunker?
Statush: floor. Drunkest!
Wheee! Current Mood: drunk
|Tuesday, July 4th, 2006|
The System Defense Boat First Khantact
was in orbit over Khanworld. It was the flagship of Khanworld's fleet...well, the only ship they'd been able to afford with their somewhat irregular income. The marketing of potted meat from Khanworld had failed (it had been deemed to be in poor taste) and the microscopic payments from Federation Intelligence were rarely on time. Nevertheless, the Khans of Khanworld had thought that at least one System Defense Boat was a good thing to posess, and had made the purchase. There was a faint but calculable chance that the Vulcans might decide that they wanted to reclaim what resources had gone into the willy-nilly creation of several million Khans. Unlikely, but possible...the Vulcans had done stranger things, at least in the eyes of the Khans.
Captain Khan turned to his crew: First Mate Khan, Science Officer Khan, Medical Officer Khan, Engineer Khan, Communication Officer Khan, Weapons Officer Khan, and Conn Officer Khan. They regularly traded shifts, depending on who was awake. Khan cleared his throat, and said, "Well, I'm beat. Time for a little shut eye. Wake me if you need me." He thought briefly about putting on his chef's hat and firing up the galley, but decided that he was effectively already wearing enough hats, and sleep was the best course of action. He had made it as far as the turbolift when an alarm behind him went off. He turned and scanned the bridge, noticing that Conn Khan's console was the source of the cacophany.
"Well, what is it?" Conn Khan turned to look back at Captain Khan. Conn Khan was white as a sheet. The viewscreen changed, replacing the rolling surface of Khanworld with an image from the deep-space sensors. The shape was a cube. The image grew quickly, indicating rapid speed. As one, the Khans all hit the buttons on their tricorders, uploading their memories to the Khan collective Khansciousness.
Captain Khan turned to Communication Officer Khan and said, "Well, we can't defeat them. Anything we do here will be countered. Let's see if we can have a communication probe launched from the far side of the planet; perhaps it will survive long enough to let the Federation know what's happening to us. Once you've done that, open hailing frequencies. Maybe they'll talk." The image continued to loom on the viewscreen.
Communication Officer Khan tapped a control, and stated, "This is SDB First Khantact
, to approaching ship. Acknowledge." There was a moment's silence, then a snicker. The snicker did not sound like a Khan, and a glance from CO Khan was enough to tell his fellow Khans that it came from over the comm channel. Conn Khan reduced the image to zero magnification. The cube was upon them.
The First Khantact
was miniscule in comparison to the huge cube. The cube, strangely enough, began to rotate. The side that had been furthest away from the SDB faced them...so to speak. The cube had an enormous humanoid face on it...two eyes, a nose and a mouth. The snickering over the comm system grew louder, and a colossal tongue dropped out of the cube's mouth and covered the First Khantact in saliva. All the Khans on board crapped their collective pants.
"It's the Boog! Run away!" Captain Khan's order was too late. The cube's mouth opened, swallowed the boat, and then let out a titanic belch. It was time to have the Khan Collective...meet the Boog. And in their first contact, the Boog had licked 'em...fair and square. Current Mood: doomed
|Thursday, June 8th, 2006|
|In the meantime
In their continuing effort to maintain a positive credit balance
, a Khan arrived at Gorn outpost Gamma XII to become a "magician's assistant". After the airlock opened and Khan stepped out of his shuttle, a pair of Gorn picked Khan up and carried him off to his new boss.
Unsurprisingly, Khan's information had been incorrect. The magician was not human or another humanlike species. He was a Romulan, dressed in (of all things) a grey pinstriped suit with a red necktie. He was extremely tall for a Romulan, more than two full meters in height. The Romulan nodded at the Gorn, who placed Khan on his feet and left the room.
"I'm pleased to see you...you're just in time. My last assistant left rather suddenly. I'm Trem. I perform prestidigitation, a human art which I have been demonstrating for several years at Gorn outposts. They're fascinated by what I do...it's quite lucrative, although keeping in assistants is tough." Trem shrugged, indicating befuddlement.
Khan blinked. "Trem, I have no training in prestidigitation or magic. How am I to be of value to you?"
Trem smiled. It was not a pretty smile. "The Gorn themselves enjoy the show. They're not so much for participating, and they aren't capable of acting surprised. Their range of emotions is rather limited, and that makes for a dull show. I do have a Gorn partner, but he's out on stage right now. He's not much for conversation, so there's no point in introducing you to him prior to your joining the act."
Khan shrugged. "So, when's the next show?"
"In progress!" replied Trem. "Make yourself comfortable. I'll let you know when you're needed."
Khan sat down and fingered his tricorder. It was hard to not feel apprehensive. Gorn were one thing, but their outposts were usually forward sites for invasion fleets. That meant that the staff of the outposts tended to be especially agressive and unpleasant Gorn. His imagination was not good enough to guess why the lizardlike aliens were interested in magic.
Trem popped back into the room. He smiled again, even more widely than before. "We're ready. Come on out to the stage area; I'll call your name in a moment." Khan followed Trem.
From offstage, Khan could watch Trem working the crowd. Trem spoke Gorn, and Khan followed the hissing language through his universal translator. Trem informed the crowd that he and his partner (the translator pronounced the Gorn's name as "Killer", which did not quiet Khan's fears) were ready for the show's big finale. Trem then called for (in Gorn) "My lovely assistant, Khan!" Khan took that as his cue and stepped out on stage.
Killer was small by Gorn standards, and was actually shorter than Trem. He was, amazingly, dressed in a suit identical to Trem's. He was still taller than Khan, of course. Killer was wheeling out a coffinlike box. Trem opened the box, indicating that Khan should hop inside. His head stuck out of a hole in one end, and his feet out of the opposite end.
"And now that you've enjoyed Killer's trick of putting rabbits through a wood chipper, here's his final trick of the night: sawing a man in half!" With that, Trem slammed the lid closed on Khan, locking him in.
Khan looked up at Trem and Killer. Killer was silently hoisting one end of a two man saw. Khan sighed. He hated to be right, when it meant being right like this. "So, this is why your advertisement said 'no experience necessary', right?" Trem smirked, and slotted his end of the saw into the middle of the box. The two 'magicians' began to saw. Khan's hands, inside the box, felt around for his tricorder. He pressed the button that would synchronize his memories with the memories of the Khans on Khanworld, and then gave himself an enormous shot of narcotic painkillers. In a moment the saw would be going through his midsection, and he didn't need the other Khans to remember that part. Moments later, Trem and Killer pushed the box apart, spilling parts of Khan all over the stage to thunderous Gorn applause.
Khan, with his last breath, turned his head to Trem and said, "Starfleet says hi." Trem had an instant to blink, and for shock to begin to spread over his features. As Khan's heart stopped, an electrode triggered a magnetic failure of a containment field on a canister inside Khan's torso. Half a second later, Gorn outpost Gamma XII was obliterated in a matter-antimatter explosion from the photon mini-torpedo installed in Khan by Starfleet Intelligence. Current Mood: dead
|Wednesday, June 29th, 2005|
|Not-so-secret agent Khan
"I can't believe I thought this was a good idea," thought mib_khan
to himself. Although the Federation had been happy to give a planet to the millions of Khans that had been on Vulcan, the Federation was adamant that they could earn their own way. "You Khan't expect a free ride," one political pundit had stated. So, the Khans made do with what they could, and when they needed hard currency (or other specie), they sent some of their number out to earn a wage.
"I can't believe I'm doing this." continued the Khan to himself. It could have been worse, he supposed...it was theoretically possible he could have been sold to a Ferengi for immoral porpoises, or perhaps been sent to law school. Still, this was the stupidest "undercover" assignment he'd ever heard of...and as a former crew of the uss_murgatroid
, Khan knew stupid when he saw it.
"You'll be at the head of the line soon, so you'll need to stop talking to us in a minute or two." The Federation Security officer's voice came through clearly via a communicator implant. FedSec was concerned about this planet, but apparently not concerned enough to do anything effective. Khan knew their efforts were not first rate, because they'd involved him. He wasn't impressed with his controller's skills, and was convinced that this mission would end poorly. He was almost convinced the guy had a bet to make the mission fail.
Khan subvocalized, "So, let me see if I've got this straight. This guy...'wet dirt'...he's president of this planet, and you want to overthrow him?"
"His name is Mudd," replied Khan's khantroller. "He comes from a long-line of flimflam artists. We're pretty sure he rigged the election. We doubt he would have won if it wasn't for the Maquis terrorism." The planet in question was on the Federation/Cardassian border, and had suffered moderately during the recent war. Mudd had gotten himself elected under the banner of "Peace or Else!" It hadn't hurt that he'd brought his own army along, even though (as mercenaries went) they were remarkably stupid.
The controller continued. "When you get to the front of the line, give your ID card to the border guard."
"My alias says I'm Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the United Federation of Planets!" Khan's subvocalizations were so loud, the being in front of him in line glanced back to see if Khan was okay. Khan's frustrations would have been obvious to most...the ID card (though electronic, and thus easily capable of displaying just about anything) had a picture of Picard, and someone had taken a marker and scribbled a beard, moustache, and bushy brown hair on the card with a marker. The ink smudged when touched.
"He won't speak English, anyway." Khan's controller's reply had tones of humor. "This world is full of stupid people. If you get through the line..."
"When I get through the line!" Khan cut off the FedSec officer. "When!"
"...we'll meet you at the mission at midnight. We'll beam you up there." Khan was not reassured. The man in front of him stepped away, leaving Khan as the next person for the border guard to inspect. Khan's universal translator made some indeterminate noises in response to the grunting of the simianlike card, then mumbled "ID?" in his ear. Khan handed over the doctored ID card to the guard.
The guard looked at the card, looked at Khan, looked at the card and squinted, then looked at Khan again. He handed the card back to Khan and said, "Have a good day, sir." Khan blinked, then walked on. Perhaps his day had a chance to improve. Current Mood: anxious
|Friday, January 28th, 2005|
|Deep shit at Deep Space Nine
Interrogation at DS9 was pretty simple. A familiar gravelly-voiced Security officer interrogated me and asked who I was, what I was doing in a shuttle logged to belong to Threat forces, and why my clone ("Pinnochio") couldn't talk.
I replied, "Commander mib_khan
, normally assigned to the uss_murgatroid
. I left Deep Space Nine through the Bajoran Wormhole in your Runabout, Shit Creek
. I suffered equipment failure inside the wormhole
, got thrown into an alternate universe, captured, tortured, escaped, and made it back here with the help of the Prophets. None of this is unusual...events similar to these are logged in DS9's records. My clone here is not a fully-function member of my group mind, due to my loss of ansible memory updating. The tricorder you confiscated from me could normally perform memory updates, but was damaged in the wormhole and has been nonfunctional ever since."
The security officer grunted and held up a tricorder. It was different than the one I'd had with me in the Imperium. "Your story, strangely enough, could have truth to it. There's only one thing that will prove all of it. A Khan left this modified tricorder here prior to going through the wormhole; if you call us from the Murgatroid
after hitting the update button, that will lend creedence to your story. Of course, if you're not really a mib_khan
, it'll probably fry your brain." He deactivated the security field and handed me the tricorder. With pleasure, I hit the memory update button for the first time in a long time. It was...glorious. Current Mood: ecstatic
|Thursday, January 27th, 2005|
|Holy wormholes, Pinnochio!
Strangely enough, mib_khan
(and his defective clone, Pinnochio) made it safely to the Bajor system without being discovered. This was not what Khan had expected when the two of them escaped from the ISS Murgatroid
. After doing some research, Khan figured out the answer.
Ships that fly faster than light tend to need warp engines. Warp engines are powerful and dangerous devices
and their ownership and usage tended to be highly regulated. Ships tended to travel in convoys (so that they could be watched by the Empire) and the advent of molecular replication meant that trade among the stars was now more often information than actual atoms or molecules. Every so often, the shuttlepod's identity was queried by automated buoy systems, but when the buoy IFF systems read that the ISS Catamite
was part of the ship complement of the iss_murgatroid
, no further questions were asked. Whatever chaos
Khan had left behind in his wake had been sufficient that the Imperium's "Identify Friend or Foe" systems were not looking out for him.
Khan took care to not fly close to Bajor on his way to the wormhole. Ship's systems indicated that the sector was very quiet on the subspace channels...this might have been one of the star systems "sterilized" by the Empire. Khan didn't plan to investigate, but instead intended to complete his escape and get back to sanity...or whatever passed for it on the uss_murgatroid
. Without any difficulty, the shuttlepod found and entered the Bajoran wormhole...and then things got difficult.
Khan had done his best to reconstruct his incursion apparatus during their flight, but not everything he needed was available to him, even with replicator technology. He was able to successfully scan the wormhole, looking for the "hole" he expected to find that would lead back to his home universe...but had no success. That only left one option...an option that a Ferengi would approve of. Khan began searching for Prophets.
As if by magic, a planetoid appeared inside the wormhole moments after Khan had made up his mind to search for Bajor's gods. Khan landed the shuttlepod, noted the presence of an M-class atmosphere outside the pod, and exited with Pinnochio. Starfleet records about the Prophets were sketchy, but it seemed as if the Prophets appeared as people Khan would recognise. This made him both pleased and scared.
The two clones walked around the shuttlepod, looking for signs of humanoid intelligence. At first, none could be found...but soon a trio of humanoids walked out from behind some foliage. Khan noted the presence of a Jellico, a Storvik, and a Lothar. Khan's anxiety did not decrease at the sight of familiar faces. After spending what seemed like a lifetime in the grip of a notsonicekhan
, familiar faces only made him wary.
The Jellico cleared his throat and said, "You ain't from around here, are ya, boys?" In unison, Khan and Pinnochio shook their heads. The Storvik nodded, then added, "Fascinating." The Lothar belched. The belch fumes were intoxicating...and more than a little tempting. Khan had been sober too long for comfort. Khan cleared his suddenly dry throat, then said, "O wise prophets, my clone and I would like to go home. We just don't know how to get there." In an unreassuring fashion, the Lothar belched again, fell over, and started snoring.
The Jellico winked at Khan, turned his head, and gave a wolf whistle into the bushes. A squad of green women hurried out, picked up Jellico, and carried him off over their heads. The only remaining (vertical) Prophet was the Storvik. That entity pointed at Khan's feet, which were no longer garbed in standard boots, but were instead sheathed in some sort of sequined soft shoe. It was a style of which Khan was unfamiliar, and was very red and sparkly. "Commander," began the Storvik, "you have had the power to go home all along. Simply return to your conveyance, click your heels together three times, and say 'There's no place like home'." Khan blinked in confusion, then opened his mouth to ask a question. The Storvik sighed an irritated sigh, then said sotto voce
"What is it with these humanoids? Don't they know how to take a hint?" He tapped his combadge, and a security team emerged from the bushes behind the Storvik. They pointed weapons at the pair of clones and said in unison, "Get off our paradise." Khan and Pinnochio now took the hint and beat feet back inside the shuttlepod. The planetoid evaporated out from under the shuttlepod, and Khan looked at Pinnochio, who shrugged. Khan then clicked his heels together three times, said "There's no place like home" out loud, and flew out of the wormhole.
Having forgotten to turn the ISS Catamite
's transponder off, the two of them were shot out of the sky by Federation-armed Bajoran forces within 15 seconds of emerging from the wormhole. Luckily for them, the Bajorans were good shots, and the disabled but not destroyed shuttlepod was towed to Deep Space Nine and its crew complement taken immediately to detention.
In their cell, Khan and Pinnochio looked at each other. Khan sighed and said, "Well, at least we're familiar with the interrogation procedures here. And the food's better...and at least not intentionally poisoned." Pinnochio giggled, then laid down on his cot and dropped off to sleep. Khan pondered Pinnochio's choice, found merit in it, and followed suit. Current Mood: safe at home
|Tuesday, December 28th, 2004|
|Concerns about the Murgatroid and its crew
I had a brief conversation with Commander storvik
about how the ship and crew are doing
. He mentioned retention of most of Captain Jellico's crew and maintenance of most of his policies. I agree that this seems wise, at least in terms of personal preservation; e.g. not starting a mutiny among crew who would be discomfited by changes, and who posess phasers, or are named Lothar. I think it wise for other reasons.
Although I am sad to see him go, I see that the hands-off policy espoused by Captain Jellico really has lead to a turnaround in ship functioning and crew satisfaction. I can project that his retirement (the ultimate "hands-off" situation) has the potential to mean only better and better things for those of us who call the uss_murgatroid
home. Current Mood: pleased
|Wednesday, November 17th, 2004|
|Face to face
looked into the cell of his doppleganger, mib_khan
. He was not wearing a hopeful expression."The time has come,"
began Khan to his prisoner. "I am short on options. You've produced a few ideas, but nothing of sufficient value to save your life. If you've been paying attention, you know that I have no further choices. How do you plan to live past today?"mib_khan
looked up at his counterpart and grimaced. "Oh, I'm pretty sure I know what to do, but I can't do anything about it tonight. I've been working hard, you've been underfeeding me, and the light in here isn't conducive to sleep. Do you think you can wait until the morning for your answer?" After observing notsonicekhan
for some time, mib_khan
was reasonably certain he understood his twin's personality traits
: lazy when he could afford to be, a genius on occasion, and a product of his environment...personality elements that Khan himself was familiar with. His captor was expecting him to save his bacon rather than saving it himself. After all, that was the lazy way out.notsonicekhan
opened his mouth to reply, but mib_khan
cut him off. "After all, there's only so much that I could ask of a yeled mamzer
like you. I can only guess from my own experience: like father, like son." As the one Khan swelled with rage at the insult, he noticed his prisoner wink. mib_khan
continued, "After all, I'm a yeled mamzer
just like you...except that I'm not like you. I know a different set of mamzerim
, and that means I know a few things you don't. I'll tell you in the morning. After all, it does mean my life, right?" Khan leaned back against the cell wall, hoping that his captor would experience a moment of clarity through the rage.
"..." began notsonicekhan
, as he continued to calm down. When he regained the power of speech, he choked out, "Fine. Computer, shut the lights. Give my captive whatever he wants from the replicator. I'll be back at 0600...results or not, you're running out of time." Imperial Khan imperiously turned and exited, shutting the lights as he left. As silence rang across the iss_murgatroid
's Sickbay, a white-toothed smile could barely be seen in the darkness.
"Replicator, give me a raktajino
, extra amphetamines. It's going to be a long night." With that said, Khan hoped that the darkness would hide his plans. He had until 0600; hopefully, that would be sufficient time in the darkness of the Sickbay. What Jellico couldn't see, he might not disrupt...and that might be the key out of this madhouse. Current Mood: industrious
|Saturday, November 6th, 2004|
|Further evidence of timestream changes
on the uss_murgatroid
, assigned to research, noted an unusual fact. He documented the data, fixed it firmly in his head, and hit the memory update button on his tricorder.
Of the remaining Khans on Vulcan, one was sober. He fought his way through the crowd of drunken clones until he located storvik
. Storvik was lying on the desert sand, beer bong in mouth, mumbling something almost incoherent. Khan's Universal Translator picked up the sound and informed Khan that Storvik had just said, "I can feel Vulcan turning. Whee!" Realizing that coherent conversation was unlikely to happen, Khan charged a hypospray with a temporary sobering agent and injected his comrade. It would provide near-instantaneous sobriety, but only for a brief period. While Storvik suddenly came to the realization he was sober, Khan handed the Vulcan a PADD with a display on it.
"What is this?
", asked a sober Storvik.
Khan sighed, and replied, "I don't think Lothar's robot duplicate is fully gone from the timestream. What else could explain this? I mean, you're not Swedish, right?"
Storvik paused in thought, but unfortunately paused long enough for his sobriety to wear off. A grin spread over his face, and he replied, "Flee yorn desh um born der goom, bork bork bork!" The Universal Translator was of no help with this phrase, leaving the sober Khan unenlightened. Current Mood: choppy!
|Wednesday, July 28th, 2004|
|Life sucks, then you die
Personal log: Commander mib_khan
I am the last survivor of an experiment
to try to retrieve Commander storvik
from the Mirror Universe where he was being held captive. We were successful in locating the area of the Bajoran wormhole with the greatest degree of spacial stress. As we activated the device designed to pull Storvik out of the universe he'd landed in, the historical bad luck of the Runabout lent to us by Deep Space Nine smacked us right in the ass. A power surge rippled through the plasma conduits of the Shit Creek
and reversed the polarity of the flux capacitor on the device. We went sideways
through the wall of the wormhole. Most of the circuitry on the ship fused instantaneously. Fortunately, our distress beacon was still functional, as well as minimal life support. We chose not to use up that energy on the replicators and instead ate each other, reducing the load on the atmosphere renewal system.
Carbon dioxide levels have risen to a point where life is unsustainable. If I am not rescued soon, I too shall die. I hope Storvik is well, whereever he is. Khan out. Current Mood: worried
|We can assume the worst
Khan finished writing the script for his fellow clones. He had not hit the memory update button on his medical tricorder in quite some time, for multiple reasons. The first reason was to not have to deal with useless memories from several million Khans on Vulcan
. The other was to reduce quantum mechanical effects while a party of Khans navigated the Bajoran wormhole, trying to retrieve their Storvik
. He finished the script, sent it around to his fellow Khans on the Murgatroid
, and waited for confirmation that they'd all received and read the message. He read it over one more time to fix it in his mind, then performed a memory update. Making the memory heard against the mental din of all the Khans on Vulcan would be difficult, and would be made easier by sharing it among more minds. Several million Khans all received the memory of reading the script, which said:
"My fellow Khans:
It has been weeks since our last memory update. As we all know, several of our number attempted to retrieve storvik
using an experimental device while inside the Bajoran wormhole. We figured that they were unsuccessful, due to the amount of time they were absent...but now that Storvik has returned to us via a different mechanism, we know for certain that the experiment was a failure. Since they have not returned via the wormhole, nor updated their memories to us via ansible, we must assume them lost.
In addition, the millions of Khans remaining on Vulcan are a problem for memory updating. The total mass of memory is difficult for a single brain to hold, and we have to avoid overloading the memories of the Khans on board the Murgatroid
with the memories being generated on Vulcan. We suspect that the Vulcan memories will be easy to filter out, as they will be mostly the same. The complaints we have received from the Vulcan government indicate that the main activity of the Vulcan Khans has been eating, drinking, excreting, smelling, hitting on sentient alien females, and eating each other. We here on the Murgatroid
appreciate and enjoy those memories, but need to remain functional. We will thus be releasing containment on the particles held in our medical tricorders and generating a new ansible network. Good luck on your own. Let us know if you need or want anything that we stand a chance of providing.
Khans out." Current Mood: full
|Monday, June 28th, 2004|
|We have equipment built
As I mentioned previously
, the Murgatroid
and its crew are at Deep Space Nine, doing research on multiple universal theory and cross-universal incursions to try to locate our
out of the uncountable set of possible Storviks.
Using information based on previous incursions, we have built some equipment. That is to say, I attempted to have the Engineering crew of the Murgatroid
put something together, and when that failed I asked the Engineering staff of DS9 to put something together. What they have is clearly a kludge, but it might actually do something.
In this part of space, the area of highest spacial stress may be found inside
the Wormhole. I'm not willing to risk the entire crew on this endeavor (the "Prophets" inside the Wormhole have been known to be quirky), so I have requested that the equipment be installed inside a Runabout and the Runabout be lent to me for the duration of the experiment. DS9 runabouts are normally named after rivers...the name of this particular runabout worries me. It apparently is a 'unlucky' runabout, and is rarely used...part of the reason they had no problem lending it to me. It's had a string of bad luck on even seemingly risk-free missions. It's normal designation has been crossed out, and its new name is 'Shit Creek'. Luckily, I'm only risking a few clones. Whether or not ansible memory updating will work inside the Wormhole is something that no one can tell me...so if this experiment fails, I may never know.
End log entry. Khan to DS9. Permission requested to leave spacedock. Current Mood: worried
|Tuesday, June 15th, 2004|
|My research bears fruit
After correlating information
from the USS Enterprise
and Deep Space Nine, I have determined that it is entirely possible that we could find Commander storvik
But will we find the right Storvik?
Current multiversal theories involve the concept of universal similarity. There is some debate as to whether or not quantum physics plays into the equation (e.g. each time a particle can go one way or another, it goes both ways and a new universe is created) or whether or not there are an infinity of universes already existing, and there is no way to tell similar universes apart until a particle zigs in one and zags in the other.
Either way, without a way to follow where that other Khan went
we're kind of stuck waiting. Oh, we can build equipment or use effects that will take us to other universes...but finding the right universe is more difficult than finding the proverbial needle in the proverbial haystack. What we would need is...hmm...
I just had a thought. The way to find a needle in a haystack is not to seach the haystack for a needle, but to get a freakin' electromagnet and pull the needle out of the haystack. I wonder if equipment exists to pull our Storvik back to us from that other universe? I can see that more research is needed. Current Mood: busy
|Thursday, June 10th, 2004|
|Deep-sixed at Deep Space Nine
After a long detour
, we have arrived at Deep Space Nine. I've ordered Engineering to perform repairs and maintenance, T'Vit (Queen of Supplies) has begun to restock our consumables, and Lothar has taken Jellico to Quark's to get him drunk(er).
I'm using my time productively. 23 of my clones are researching so-called "Mirror" universes, in an attempt to determine how best to locate our missing First Officer. We've also reported to Starfleet on the 'espionage mission'
we just performed. Hopefully their reply will be more coherent than "The Romulans are our friends! Did you get any Hot Romulan Babes for us?" *sigh* Current Mood: busy
|Monday, April 26th, 2004|
|A visit to scenic Vulcan
Once he decided to make the trip to Vulcan
, a half-dozen of Khan readied themselves the best way they knew how: they had dinner.( Dr. Lecter, your table is ready...Collapse )
Six Khans stepped forward, and looked out across the hordes of Khan. They updated their memories one last time, bowed to their fellows, and boarded their ship. The flight back to the Murgatroid
would be a long and lonely one. Current Mood: contemplative
|Tuesday, April 20th, 2004|
|Thursday, April 1st, 2004|
|Out of the frying pan and into the fire
After some difficulties
, we were safely in orbit.
I was feeling stressed out, and asked a yeoman to get me a cup of tea. I then had a feeling, as if millions of voices had cried out and were suddenly silenced. Immediately after, I heard the replicator chirp, "Thank you for using a Sirius Cybernetics Corporation Replicator! Share and enjoy."
Then all the power on the Murgatroid
failed. Current Mood: dark