Spooky Action At a Distance/Missouri Loves Company

Posted on Sun Nov 4th, 2018 @ 2:17am by Lieutenant Samuel Clemens XV
Edited on on Fri Nov 9th, 2018 @ 5:44pm

Mission: Escaped Pantheons
Location: USS Hera, Intel Chief's Office
Timeline: 2395 Post-Mission: Hera! Pre-Luncheon Briefing

Sam hated reports. All reports, his entire life through.

Being in Starfleet hadn't really changed that.

But delivering briefs to the Commodore wasn't bad at all, really. The towering Scotsman had a sense of humor almost as tall as he was.

But that accent, though...

It really made Sam wonder how the hell anyone could make sense of the the man.

The wiry man from the Show Me State went over his briefing notes one last time, before activating the heavily-encoded Intel comm channel. Everything looked to be in order, so he started the encryption handshaking protocols.

After a few moments, during which his biometrics were checked, and quantum signature comparisons were made, the holographic imaging systems synchronized, and Commodore Jackson Turnbull Raster appeared, sitting across the desk from the Gregarious Gambler, sipping a bubbling brown liquid out of a massive glass mug, with some sort of white blob floating on top of the concoction.

"Ah see yeh bagg'd n'tagged yon harrrigan, lad. Tell me th'storry, an' dinnae leave oot ennahthin'. Ah hae ah feelin' yeh saw sum serryuss shite, eh?"

Sam shook his head, suddenly feeling as though he were 11 years old, again.

"Aw, suh- thuh briefin' didn't do it all justice. This 'goddess' stormed in, demanded a whole planet drop everythin' an' wuhship huh, an' wiped out entyuh continents when they didn't jump fast enough. Then she stahted breedin' pepuhl, an' changin' theah babies inta monstuhs," the normally-collected spymaster reported to his mentor.

Clemens went into great detail on what he'd discovered about the power collection and transport system he'd discovered in the caverns, and how they'd wrecked it. The n-dimensional aspects were of great interest to the Scot Of Many Worlds, and he took great care to counsel his mentee and try to assuage his guilt over the loss of one of his team, and the severe injuries of others.

At the end of it all, Raster had one more piece of advice to give his man in the field:

"Samuel- ah knoo that 'Fleet taught us tae be th'shinin' light o'frreedom to th'galaxy at large, an' try tae rredeem enemies when 'tis possible. But 'tis imporrant tae unnerrstand- some arre irrreedeemable- an' 'tis those that rrequirre th'sacrrifice o'good men an' wimmin' tae stop. This thing is a galactic warr, an' stoppin' it soonerr, rratherr than laterr, is vitally-imporrtant. Just as imporrtant, howe'er, is that we may hae t'git in bed wi' snakes tae end this. Rrevenge is a luxurry we'll hae ta delay until afterr th'dust settles.

In th'end, we'rre all fictional, somewherre, somewhen. What's imporrtant is tae hold ourr Authorrs t'theirr prrinciples, an' make surre we make it a storry wirrth rreadin'."

As the channel closed, the USS Hera's Chief of Intel stared at the logo for a long time, contemplating.

When he'd finished his reverie, he set about preparing for the Luncheon Briefing. He'd decided a personal change of pace might help get everyone's mind off the terrible prices they'd each paid for the victory they'd achieved.