Fic-a-Day #27: Anomaly
Title: Anomalous
Author: JoeHundredaire (joehundredaire@tthfanfic.com)
Rating: R/FR18.
Pairings: Drusilla/T'Pol
Disclaimer: Someone inside Paramount owns T'Pol and someone who's not me (but may be Joss Whedon) owns Buffy.
Joe's Note: Where do I come up with this shit?
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Lieutenant Malcolm Reed scowled as he stalked through the gleaming metal corridors of Enterprise, trailed by an unusually hesitant squad of MACOs. “Sir,” Corporal Fiona McKenzie ventured, “I’m sure T’Pol is perfectly fine. We really don’t need to go invade her quarters. There’s probably just a malfunction with the com system.”
Looking back over his shoulder, Malcolm gave Fiona the same look he gave Commander Tucker when Trip said something particularly idiotic. “She’s two hours past the beginning of her shift, we’re unable to reach her at all, and this section of the ship was damaged by another one of those damned anomalies a short while ago. More than likely, she’s stuck in her quarters and unable to leave. Hence us going to check on her.”
“I’m pretty sure she IS stuck in her quarters,” one of the MACOs commented before the quartet of marines indulged in a fairly unprofessional group snicker. He composed himself when Malcolm leveled a glare at him. “Sir.”
Malcolm came to a stop and turned to face the MACOs. “Does that mean you happen to be aware of why T’Pol isn’t responding to calls for her? And that it’s NOT a technical malfunction of some sort?”
The group looked at each other and nodded in sync. “Sir, yes sir,” Fiona replied. “I’m not at liberty to share that information, but rest assured that what you’re about to do is a VERY bad idea.”
“It’s a very bad idea?” Malcolm replied, and the MACOs nodded again in eerie synchronicity. “But you can’t tell me why?” Another nod. “In that case, I’m still going to have to investigate.” Spinning on his heel, he resumed his trek down the corridor.
Reaching the proper door, Malcolm punched the appropriate override code into the door panel. There was a chirp and he blinked. T’Pol had used her override to prevent even him from entering her quarters. Furrowing his brow, he punched in a command that he hadn’t used since his training with Section 31 before his assignment to Enterprise. It was a master override programmed into every piece of Earth-created starship in case the ship was captured by hostile aliens, or commandeered by their supposed allies.
This time, the door slid open with a hiss and Malcolm peered inside. The interior was pitch black, without even the light that would normally drift in through the exterior window in T’Pol’s quarters. There was a loud groan and he drew his phase pistol before rushing into the room. “T’Pol?” he shouted. He was completely unprepared for the sight that awaited him.
T’Pol was sprawled out on her back on the bed, her wrists secured with thick-chained manacles that were somehow attached directly to the wall. Most of her body was hidden beneath the pale, naked form of a black-haired woman whose face was buried in the Vulcan’s neck, although her tanned legs were wrapped around her paler companion’s waist. “Do you require something?” she wondered. “Lieutenant?”
“What the bloody hell is going on here?” Malcolm shouted, causing the MACOs to shuffle in after him slowly. Malcolm looked from the tableau on the bed to the uncomfortable MACOs. “Well? I’d like an answer. Now! And will you remove yourself from T’Pol and get dressed… who are you, anyways?”
The woman lifted her head and turned to look at Malcolm and he gasped. It looked like Private Drusilla Landau, except her face was hideously deformed. Her brow was heavier and ridged, with golden eyes peering out from beneath. Her lips were stained and dripping with green blood, and he could make out the points of inhumanly long canines between them. “The stars whispered a secret to me,” Drusilla purred, “that my fairy princess wanted to play with me. Sticks and stones may break her bones, but whips and chains excite her…”
Fiona sidled up next to Malcolm even as the rest of the marines turned to face the opposite wall. “T’Pol, how much has she had so far?”
“She still requires another half pint to reach any real coherency,” T’Pol replied, the chains clanking softly as she reached down to run her fingers along the back of Drusilla’s head. “I would prefer to give her a pint and a half total to maximize her usefulness for the upcoming mission. Somehow, she was aware that I was at the peak of an almost unnoticeable hormonal cycle and was more… enthusiastic… than normal. She just began feeding a few minutes ago.”
Malcolm gaped as Drusilla leaned down and slowly licked a trail of green blood from where it was slowly oozing down T’Pol’s right breast all the way back up to the twin punctures on her neck. “What… how… why..?” the normally composed man stuttered.
Pressing on the back of Drusilla’s head, T’Pol guided her down to the unmarked side of her neck. There was a soft growl and T’Pol arched her back as fangs slid into her neck again. “I believe that’s a discussion for Captain Archer and Corporal McKenzie,” she replied. “Please inform the captain that I shall be make my way to the bridge as soon as possible and in the future, I will attempt to schedule Private Landau’s feedings at more appropriate times.”
Malcolm continued to stand there and gape at the spectacle. Tapping two of her marines on the shoulder, Fiona jerked her head in the lieutenant’s direction. The two men quickly grabbed Malcolm, lifting him completely off the floor and carrying him towards the door. “She can hide her condition for over a century on Earth,” she muttered, “but blows it within a month of arriving on Enterprise. Damn vampire.”
********************
“There is a vampire… on my ship…” Captain Jonathan Archer said slowly. After half an hour of explanations from the head of the MACOs on his ship, that was the part he was stuck on. “There is a vampire on my ship and not only were you aware of it, but her presence is sanctioned by Starfleet?”
Fiona winced. “Yes, sir,” she replied. “Private Landau has been with the MACOs since their inception and is our best hand-to-hand combatant. She’s also stronger and faster than anyone else we’ve discovered who’d be willing to work with us. Including the Vulcans AND the Klingons.”
That caused Archer to raise an eyebrow. “She’s stronger than a Vulcan?” he said in disbelief. “The average Vulcan is three times stronger than a human.”
“Sir, we discovered her when she assaulted, subdued, and ATE a Vulcan,” Fiona informed him. “That’s also when we discovered the rather unique effect that Vulcan blood has on her. She was incarcerated and studied at the Vulcan Compound in Sausalito, at which point she met and formed a bond with then Sub-Commander T’Pol. When she heard that we were sending a platoon to Enterprise, she declared she would be coming with us or…” She trailed off, trying to look anywhere but the captain.
Of course, Jonathan wanted to know the rest of the sentence. “Or?” he prompted.
Fiona coughed. “She told us that if we didn’t bring her to her ‘fairy princess’, she’d eat every last MACO that remained at West Point. Which is a force of approximately a thousand marines.”
“And you let her come on my ship?” Jonathan roared, rising to his feet. “With the threat she represented to the rest of the crew?”
Fiona was undisturbed by his shouting. “Sir, do you know what happens when you shoot a vampire with a phase pistol?” Jonathan shook his head. “The same thing that happens when you shoot anyone else. They die. Unless they manage to dodge the beam, which happens nearly 80% of the time, in which case they usually manage to tear your throat out. We haven’t managed to compensate for that problem yet.” She sighed. “Drusilla is an… uncertain… ally at best. Unfortunately, she’s the best we have and so she gets away with murder. Sometimes literally.”
Sinking back into his chair, Jonathan stared at the provisional leader of the marine platoon. “So, let’s recap, shall we?” he said. “You brought aboard a homicidal, mentally-disturbed vampire who regards my science officer as her ‘fairy princess’, and needs regular dosage of Vulcan blood to stabilize her mind. She has a past with T’Pol and T’Pol was actually contacted while we were still on Earth to see if she would be willing to serve as a food source and sexual partner for Private Landau.”
“T’Pol agreed to the arrangement and Private Landau was smuggled aboard the Enterprise in a cargo container because the Earth’s sun can destroy her, which isn’t true of alien suns for some bizarre reason. She’s stronger and faster than a Vulcan or a Klingon, and is dangerous enough that you thought she could actually go through with her threat of killing all MACOs currently stationed on Earth. Which is why you decided to agree with her demands to be included on the mission. Does that sum things up accurately?”
Fiona cringed. “Yes sir?”
Sighing, Jonathan wished that Starfleet had agreed to stock Tums in the sickbay. Sure, they took up nearly 400% more room per dose than the newest chemical antacids, but there was something soothing about chewing on the oddly-flavored tablets. “Is there anything else you’d like to reveal about your platoon, Corporal?”
Fiona cringed again. “Well, sir, there’s something you might want to know about Private Burkle…”
Author: JoeHundredaire (joehundredaire@tthfanfic.com)
Rating: R/FR18.
Pairings: Drusilla/T'Pol
Disclaimer: Someone inside Paramount owns T'Pol and someone who's not me (but may be Joss Whedon) owns Buffy.
Joe's Note: Where do I come up with this shit?
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Lieutenant Malcolm Reed scowled as he stalked through the gleaming metal corridors of Enterprise, trailed by an unusually hesitant squad of MACOs. “Sir,” Corporal Fiona McKenzie ventured, “I’m sure T’Pol is perfectly fine. We really don’t need to go invade her quarters. There’s probably just a malfunction with the com system.”
Looking back over his shoulder, Malcolm gave Fiona the same look he gave Commander Tucker when Trip said something particularly idiotic. “She’s two hours past the beginning of her shift, we’re unable to reach her at all, and this section of the ship was damaged by another one of those damned anomalies a short while ago. More than likely, she’s stuck in her quarters and unable to leave. Hence us going to check on her.”
“I’m pretty sure she IS stuck in her quarters,” one of the MACOs commented before the quartet of marines indulged in a fairly unprofessional group snicker. He composed himself when Malcolm leveled a glare at him. “Sir.”
Malcolm came to a stop and turned to face the MACOs. “Does that mean you happen to be aware of why T’Pol isn’t responding to calls for her? And that it’s NOT a technical malfunction of some sort?”
The group looked at each other and nodded in sync. “Sir, yes sir,” Fiona replied. “I’m not at liberty to share that information, but rest assured that what you’re about to do is a VERY bad idea.”
“It’s a very bad idea?” Malcolm replied, and the MACOs nodded again in eerie synchronicity. “But you can’t tell me why?” Another nod. “In that case, I’m still going to have to investigate.” Spinning on his heel, he resumed his trek down the corridor.
Reaching the proper door, Malcolm punched the appropriate override code into the door panel. There was a chirp and he blinked. T’Pol had used her override to prevent even him from entering her quarters. Furrowing his brow, he punched in a command that he hadn’t used since his training with Section 31 before his assignment to Enterprise. It was a master override programmed into every piece of Earth-created starship in case the ship was captured by hostile aliens, or commandeered by their supposed allies.
This time, the door slid open with a hiss and Malcolm peered inside. The interior was pitch black, without even the light that would normally drift in through the exterior window in T’Pol’s quarters. There was a loud groan and he drew his phase pistol before rushing into the room. “T’Pol?” he shouted. He was completely unprepared for the sight that awaited him.
T’Pol was sprawled out on her back on the bed, her wrists secured with thick-chained manacles that were somehow attached directly to the wall. Most of her body was hidden beneath the pale, naked form of a black-haired woman whose face was buried in the Vulcan’s neck, although her tanned legs were wrapped around her paler companion’s waist. “Do you require something?” she wondered. “Lieutenant?”
“What the bloody hell is going on here?” Malcolm shouted, causing the MACOs to shuffle in after him slowly. Malcolm looked from the tableau on the bed to the uncomfortable MACOs. “Well? I’d like an answer. Now! And will you remove yourself from T’Pol and get dressed… who are you, anyways?”
The woman lifted her head and turned to look at Malcolm and he gasped. It looked like Private Drusilla Landau, except her face was hideously deformed. Her brow was heavier and ridged, with golden eyes peering out from beneath. Her lips were stained and dripping with green blood, and he could make out the points of inhumanly long canines between them. “The stars whispered a secret to me,” Drusilla purred, “that my fairy princess wanted to play with me. Sticks and stones may break her bones, but whips and chains excite her…”
Fiona sidled up next to Malcolm even as the rest of the marines turned to face the opposite wall. “T’Pol, how much has she had so far?”
“She still requires another half pint to reach any real coherency,” T’Pol replied, the chains clanking softly as she reached down to run her fingers along the back of Drusilla’s head. “I would prefer to give her a pint and a half total to maximize her usefulness for the upcoming mission. Somehow, she was aware that I was at the peak of an almost unnoticeable hormonal cycle and was more… enthusiastic… than normal. She just began feeding a few minutes ago.”
Malcolm gaped as Drusilla leaned down and slowly licked a trail of green blood from where it was slowly oozing down T’Pol’s right breast all the way back up to the twin punctures on her neck. “What… how… why..?” the normally composed man stuttered.
Pressing on the back of Drusilla’s head, T’Pol guided her down to the unmarked side of her neck. There was a soft growl and T’Pol arched her back as fangs slid into her neck again. “I believe that’s a discussion for Captain Archer and Corporal McKenzie,” she replied. “Please inform the captain that I shall be make my way to the bridge as soon as possible and in the future, I will attempt to schedule Private Landau’s feedings at more appropriate times.”
Malcolm continued to stand there and gape at the spectacle. Tapping two of her marines on the shoulder, Fiona jerked her head in the lieutenant’s direction. The two men quickly grabbed Malcolm, lifting him completely off the floor and carrying him towards the door. “She can hide her condition for over a century on Earth,” she muttered, “but blows it within a month of arriving on Enterprise. Damn vampire.”
********************
“There is a vampire… on my ship…” Captain Jonathan Archer said slowly. After half an hour of explanations from the head of the MACOs on his ship, that was the part he was stuck on. “There is a vampire on my ship and not only were you aware of it, but her presence is sanctioned by Starfleet?”
Fiona winced. “Yes, sir,” she replied. “Private Landau has been with the MACOs since their inception and is our best hand-to-hand combatant. She’s also stronger and faster than anyone else we’ve discovered who’d be willing to work with us. Including the Vulcans AND the Klingons.”
That caused Archer to raise an eyebrow. “She’s stronger than a Vulcan?” he said in disbelief. “The average Vulcan is three times stronger than a human.”
“Sir, we discovered her when she assaulted, subdued, and ATE a Vulcan,” Fiona informed him. “That’s also when we discovered the rather unique effect that Vulcan blood has on her. She was incarcerated and studied at the Vulcan Compound in Sausalito, at which point she met and formed a bond with then Sub-Commander T’Pol. When she heard that we were sending a platoon to Enterprise, she declared she would be coming with us or…” She trailed off, trying to look anywhere but the captain.
Of course, Jonathan wanted to know the rest of the sentence. “Or?” he prompted.
Fiona coughed. “She told us that if we didn’t bring her to her ‘fairy princess’, she’d eat every last MACO that remained at West Point. Which is a force of approximately a thousand marines.”
“And you let her come on my ship?” Jonathan roared, rising to his feet. “With the threat she represented to the rest of the crew?”
Fiona was undisturbed by his shouting. “Sir, do you know what happens when you shoot a vampire with a phase pistol?” Jonathan shook his head. “The same thing that happens when you shoot anyone else. They die. Unless they manage to dodge the beam, which happens nearly 80% of the time, in which case they usually manage to tear your throat out. We haven’t managed to compensate for that problem yet.” She sighed. “Drusilla is an… uncertain… ally at best. Unfortunately, she’s the best we have and so she gets away with murder. Sometimes literally.”
Sinking back into his chair, Jonathan stared at the provisional leader of the marine platoon. “So, let’s recap, shall we?” he said. “You brought aboard a homicidal, mentally-disturbed vampire who regards my science officer as her ‘fairy princess’, and needs regular dosage of Vulcan blood to stabilize her mind. She has a past with T’Pol and T’Pol was actually contacted while we were still on Earth to see if she would be willing to serve as a food source and sexual partner for Private Landau.”
“T’Pol agreed to the arrangement and Private Landau was smuggled aboard the Enterprise in a cargo container because the Earth’s sun can destroy her, which isn’t true of alien suns for some bizarre reason. She’s stronger and faster than a Vulcan or a Klingon, and is dangerous enough that you thought she could actually go through with her threat of killing all MACOs currently stationed on Earth. Which is why you decided to agree with her demands to be included on the mission. Does that sum things up accurately?”
Fiona cringed. “Yes sir?”
Sighing, Jonathan wished that Starfleet had agreed to stock Tums in the sickbay. Sure, they took up nearly 400% more room per dose than the newest chemical antacids, but there was something soothing about chewing on the oddly-flavored tablets. “Is there anything else you’d like to reveal about your platoon, Corporal?”
Fiona cringed again. “Well, sir, there’s something you might want to know about Private Burkle…”