Here, There and Everywhere.

Posted on Fri Dec 11th, 2020 @ 12:00pm by Lieutenant Orin Sempton

Mission: End of Line
Location: Starbase
Timeline: MD 02
2220 words - 4.4 OF Standard Post Measure

"How... Do I... Keep getting... Myself... into these... Situations?" Orin asked himself, huffing and puffing. He was ducked down, holding onto a tree in what appeared to be the stations Arboretum and hiking area. He could hear laughing and the sound of people around, but not close, to him. Closing his eyes and concentrating, Orin attempted to get both breath and heart rate under control, managing to get slow them to a normal rate after a time. "No," He grumbled. "I know exactly how this keeps happening. Bad luck and a computer that wont take no for an answer." He took a sip from his water bottle, which was getting low, before putting it back in his messenger bag and thought back to earlier in the morning, where it all started.
____________

Orin stepped out of his room, and stretched. Still a little sore from his holodeck adventure yesterday, but in a surprisingly good mood. He strolled out into the mass of people heading hither and yon. Those like himself, looking for something to do. He never really got a chance to look at the schematics of the station, so he'd basically just wandered till he found an information kiosk.

"Computer, station layout?" As the map brought itself up, his eyes danced around the map, taking it in. He let out a low whistle and remarked "Something for everyone. Computer, bring up areas for challenges and adventures."

///SYS-ACTIVATED!
passive-keyword-scan=true”
;challenge
/GENERATE:
;char-T'gorr=true
:activate

With a rapid shimmering, an immense Klingon phased into existence. He stood tall behind the young human, eyes glowering with a programmed and inaccurately stereotypical rage of a Klingon. T'gorr shoved the human, hard enough for him to stumble forwards but not enough to fell him. "You seek challenge!" T'gorr boomed. The Starbase AI had fed the hologram with the hacked data from the Majestic manifest, which told him that this puny human specimen was unlikely to seek any serious challenge or difficulty.

"Oh come o-" Orin began, whipping around to face his pusher and was immediately confused. "qaStaH nuq jay’?" He found himself saying more aloud than he meant. It had asked about challenges. Maybe it would point him to them? "Uh... Yes?"

T'gorr snarled mockingly at the pathetic man before him; "perhaps I can find you a good book...?" he teased with derision; "something large - surely a challenge for a man of your....height...." T'gorr boomed a mocking laugh; his personality subroutines telling him to behave in such an arrogant, mocking and bullying way to a physically inferior man.

Orin's eye began to twitch slightly. He was rather sensitive about his height. He'd come on board the station expecting a good time, not this. A Klingon proverb passed through his mind at that moment, and he nearly spat it at his annoyer with a half smile. "Suvlu'taHvIS yapbe' HoS neH."

T'gorr glowered at the small man in front of him, his lips curling into a cruel and not entirely false smile; "we shall see...." he rumbled, drawing a D'ktagh knife.

Adrenaline dumped into Orin's system and his body moved before his brain had time to catch up. His left hand shot downward while the Klingon still drew the knife across his body, aiming to trap the arm against the Klingon's body. His other, shot upward into the Klingon's throat, striking with the thenar. He didn't wait to see the resulting stumble backwards or coughing fit that would usually follow. Instead, he turned and ran as fast as his long legs would take him. Direction be damned.

As the simulated reactions to the officer's attack lessened, the Klingon rushed after him, blade in hand and polished battle-ready teeth gleaming. It would be against the behavioural honour protocols in his program to simply access the sensors and find the sniveling targ, instead he opted for a more traditional hunt. Sheathing his dagger, he moved slowly forwards, sniffing the air and looking for small telltale signs, like carpet patches trodden down, or minute marks on the walls. He would find this starfleet coward and publicly disembowel him...

---------------------------------

Orin gasped for air, hands on his knees and nearly doubled over, using a tree for support. Sweat poured down his face and coated his glasses and he shook from the, now diminishing, adrenaline energy boost . "Crazy" gasp "Damn" gasp "Program." He slowly got his heart rate down, pulled off his glasses to clean them, moping his face with the sleeve of his shirt and stood to look at his surroundings. He was in some sort of mountainous area marked by different colored trails. "A hike. Now that might calm me down a bit." He didn't bother to look at which trails went where or their difficulty, just opting for the first one he saw. It looked like it took him up a mountain, and he could see a rope bridge spanning a gap. With a smile, he pulled the bottle he kept in his satchel and took a long pull. The honey and vinegar mixed water gave him some spring back into his step. "I wonder what the view is like on the bridge?" He said aloud as he hiked on.

It took an hour, but soon he was standing in the middle of the rope bridge admiring the view. While it was only a small part of the station, out in a far away region of space, Orin closed his eyes and let the wind blow around him while thoughts of home and happier memories played through his head like a well loved film. He could almost believe that he was back on Earth, taking one of the old trails in the Rockies or the Adirondacks. A wave of contentedness filled him before a familiar growl made it come crashing down like a tsunami. He looked over to see the Klingon on the opposite site of the bridge, advancing with his knife out.

"Oh come on." Orin answered back, looking up to the simulated sky before asking; "Why me?" He expected no answer, and received none. Instead, he turned and ran back the way he came, pausing only to look back at the Klingon crossing the bridge. "I'm going to feel real bad about this..." He grumbled, sliding his hand into a hidden pocket and removed his knife. He turned back to the Klingon, already a quarter of the way onto the bridge. "I'd turn back if I was you." And pressed the knife to one of the main supports.

It didn't deter his opponent, who just cocked an eyebrow and continued forward.

"Thanks. Like I don't hate myself enough already." Orin yelled at him as he cut the support, dropping one side of the bridge. The Klingon held fast and gave Orin an unhappy glare as the latter turned and quickly descended the path at a run.

---------------

An hour of random paths, turns and double backs later Orin came to what appeared to be some sort of day spa and swimming area. His legs felt like they were filled with hot iron and he could smell himself, and it was not a pleasant scent. A shower, a swim and a massage. That would be nice and relaxing, especially after his day so far.

He purchased a pair of trunks at a kiosk and changed in the locker room, dumping his stuff in a locker. Jumping in a shower stall, he let the sonic waves wash over him, peeling off layers of dirt and sweat. He turned the lever to change the pitch of the shower, making it higher, and felt his body tense up with the sudden shock before turning it off. "Better than a cold shower." He mumbled, exiting the stall and heading for the pool. It had the appearance of a stone rimmed lagoon, and was huge. A variety of people were in it, playing or relaxing on floats. Orin chose to just float on his back, closing his eyes and shutting out the world around him.

"Found you, PetaQ."

Orin nearly got a lungful of water as he twisted around looking for the voice. Finally after a frantic search, he found the Klingon standing at the side of the pool, scowling disapprovingly at him.

"You think water will stop my hunt?" The Klingon asked, before jumping in after him. Orin couldn't help but stare at the now sinking Klingon with confusion. Their bodies were extra dense, making swimming hard, but he'd not even stripped himself of the armor before jumping in...

Then Orin remembered that as a holoprogram, the Klingon didn't need to breathe. Horror washed over him with the realization, as a hand firmly gripped his ankle and pulled him down. This time, he did inhale water, as he gasped in terror. His body reacted violently and he kicked downward, feeling his heel strike something dense and bony. The hand gripping his ankle let up just barely and he managed to wiggle out of the Klingon's grip.

Swimming to the side of the pool, Orin near leapt out of the water, and without drying off, ran to the locker room for his clothes.

---------------

Orin grumbled unhappily, as he finished pulling his shirt over his head, only to find out he'd put it on backwards and inside out. He stopped his jog long enough to flip the shirt around and put it back on. "Stupid malfunctioning program. All I wanted was a bit of fun. Not play cat and mouse." He noticed the people side eying him rather quickly, and clamped his jaw shut hard enough to make his teeth clack. He looked around at where his feet had taken him this time, and noticed he was in the bar and games district. What luck. He thought. What better way to disappear than in a crowd? He picked up his bag and looked round for a decent pub style bar. With he day he'd had, he'd earned himself a drink... Or two. Maybe two.

The Pub was fairly packed and smelled much like a place his father's worked had gone to in southern Ireland. He gingerly picked his way through the crowd, attempting to jostle as few people as possible. He'd been accosted by a crazy program with a wish to knock his head in, the last thing he needed was to be accosted by a real person with the same wish. So he slowly and methodically made his way to the bar, finding an empty stool with a view of the front door. The bartender slowly made his way over and eyed Orin up.

"What'll it be?" He asked

"Whiskey, neat, at least 12 years." Orin rattled off his normal order, pushing his glasses to his forehead and rubbing his eyes. "And Sheppard's pie if you have it." With a nod, the man turned away, and as Orin shifted his glasses back to his face, a glass filled with amber liquid was sat before him. Picking it up, he inspected the contents, first with a sniff and then a small sip. It burned all the way down his esophagus and Orin enjoyed every second of it. As he breathed in, he could still taste the remains of the smokey flavor playing on his tongue. When he'd opened his eyes again, a plate sat before him. A steaming helping of ground lamb and vegetables, topped with mashed potatoes. When the smell hit him, his stomach loudly growled and he realized just how hungry he really was.

After a satisfying meal and an even more satisfying drink, he slowly made his way back out of the pub and disappeared into the crowd of people going to and fro. After another hour, he thought he'd finally lost his pursuer, and turned into a park. After the meal, he just wanted to indulge in some people watching, and the park was the best place to do it. Not too crowed, not too empty.

He'd gone a dozen steps, when a familiar laugh broke him out of his revelry. Orin turned to bolt, but instead turned back and pointed at his adversary.

"No more!" He shouted at the Klingon. "I'm tired of this Rat race! We've done this all damn day! Just hit me and get it over with!" He walked right up to the adversary that had dogged him all day long. He watched as the Klingon's eyebrow raised, and his expression changed from one of elation to one of disgust. Orin cared not one bit, as his came eye to eye with his pursuer. "Do it!" he yelled in the Klingon's face. "Hit me!" When the Klingon still made no move, Orin fully lost his temper. "Hab SoSlI' Qu-"

He never finished the insult.

Twenty minutes later, Orin awoke on the ground, his jaw aching. He looked up at the Station's high ceiling and adjusted the glasses that had become askew back to their proper position. Laying there, he couldn't help but laugh. The first real laugh he'd allowed himself in a while. He couldn't help it, even with the obvious bruise on his chin from the Klingon's fist throbbing, the absurdity of the day made him laugh to the point of tears.

As people walked by him, whispering and pointing, Orin laid there, holding his stomach and laughing.