Apparently, regulations in this city never get repealed. I attempted to get my replicator to make me a pack of cigarettes.
Computer: According to general statutes 123987(c) passed in 2010, all smoking is prohibited in San Francisco.
Terminal: You're telling me, I can't have a cigarette because of a several hundred year old law?
Computer: That is correct.
Terminal: ARRGH. ~kicks the replicator~
They've been keeping me here days now and they haven't gotten back in touch with me since they siezed the Mustang. I've got no contacts in this time line. My only possibility is Admiral Dillon. But they apparently have him on some sort of undercover mission. He can't be reached on Starbase 42. And I'm sure they'd monitor any communications I sent to the
uss_murgatroid. Plus, I don't want them investigating them too thoroughly right now. Hopefully, Dr. Khan, noticed the control I gave him and Starfleet hasn't.
I'm not used to being planet-bound. My time in the rebellion, it was much easier to hide out the entire ship, than take time on a planet. I wish they would just let me know what they want from me.
~pulls out the bottle of Cisco he had stashed away~
Well, at least I have some real alcohol...