Sleeping With The Enemy
2381-01-13 @ 1741
Stardate 56283.11
So you'll never guess where in the hell I've been.
We're crossing through this system that's mostly rock and debris, right? And the brass want to send some jerk-off to scout for cloaked Romulans or telepathic mindfuck rapists or whatever wrinkly nadface we're going to bang into this week like fucking clockwork.
And I get chosen for the job, lucky me. Because I get paid to get shot at a couple of times a month.
Sure enough, there's some comm interference, and then some ship I've never seen before decloaks and kicks my runabout in the nads with a torpedo or two. I get a couple of smacks off, and we both crashland on this hostile moon. Because they can't be fucking friendly moons, can they?
So I thought we were going to kill other at first, but, over the three days we spent down there, we learned to trust one another, and we developed a simple sign language and learned enough words that the other spoke to signal our ships and get the hell out of there. We became tenative friends, and hopefully this will be the beginning of good relations between our two peoples.
Thankfully, this exact scenario has happened a million billion fucking trillion times since the Federation was founded, so I knew exactly what to do.
And then my douchebag boss, that midget Tellerite Napoleon fuck, threatened to take the crashed shuttlecraft out of my pay! I finally had to remind him that we live in a Socialistic society and there is no such thing as money anymore. Otherwise I would have paid a Naussican to kick his curly-tailed ass by now.
I swear, if Starfleet hadn't paid for my college, I'd quit and become a pirate or something.
Stardate 56283.11
So you'll never guess where in the hell I've been.
We're crossing through this system that's mostly rock and debris, right? And the brass want to send some jerk-off to scout for cloaked Romulans or telepathic mindfuck rapists or whatever wrinkly nadface we're going to bang into this week like fucking clockwork.
And I get chosen for the job, lucky me. Because I get paid to get shot at a couple of times a month.
Sure enough, there's some comm interference, and then some ship I've never seen before decloaks and kicks my runabout in the nads with a torpedo or two. I get a couple of smacks off, and we both crashland on this hostile moon. Because they can't be fucking friendly moons, can they?
So I thought we were going to kill other at first, but, over the three days we spent down there, we learned to trust one another, and we developed a simple sign language and learned enough words that the other spoke to signal our ships and get the hell out of there. We became tenative friends, and hopefully this will be the beginning of good relations between our two peoples.
Thankfully, this exact scenario has happened a million billion fucking trillion times since the Federation was founded, so I knew exactly what to do.
And then my douchebag boss, that midget Tellerite Napoleon fuck, threatened to take the crashed shuttlecraft out of my pay! I finally had to remind him that we live in a Socialistic society and there is no such thing as money anymore. Otherwise I would have paid a Naussican to kick his curly-tailed ass by now.
I swear, if Starfleet hadn't paid for my college, I'd quit and become a pirate or something.