(no subject)
Jan. 6th, 2007 01:21 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kiffieI like John Denver.
I like Star Trek:TNG.
I like being warm in a cold room.
So I've got John Denver playing on my laptop, am wrapped in a soft, blue robe that my aunt bought me for Christmas, and have decided to once again write TNG ficlets that I'll never complete. Whoo!
Voices
"Hello, brother."
"Hello, B-4."
"Why are you here, brother?"
"Because I have no where else to be. And because I must ask you to do something for me. It is... it is very important that you do this for me, B-4."
"I will attempt to do as you ask, but it will depend on the complexity--"
"That is sufficient. ...I thank you."
B-4 gasped, sitting up straight from his position slumped over a work station in Engineering. Geordi was there immediately, hand on his shoulder, concern plain but only getting out a worried "B-4-- ?" before having a PADD shoved in his face. B-4 was a quick writer.
Geordi took the PADD. He gave the android a confused look before reading it, aloud.
"Ferengi are Yankee Traders. Treaties mean little. Use caution, stay safe."
Standard Faire
There had always been something a little ridiculous about their holodeck adventures. Even something as simple as a game of Parrises Squares could quickly degenerate into an entire roomful of giggling, chuckling, and amused (for Klingons do not laugh) crewmen if the mood was right.
So when William Riker came through the holodeck arch in a costume that, he could only assume, was standard faire for the adventure the others had picked out, he wasn't quite sure if he would have been more or less disturbed if the others waiting in the currently deactivated holodeck weren't similarly dressed.
He paused a moment, looking first at the assembled bridge crew, then back at the fading holodeck arch, and finally settling on Data's costume. Or, more precisely, the pea-green bowler hat he wore. When Data met his gaze, the android propped the side of the bowler up with the oddly-shaped top of his gold cane, and nodded in greeting.
If Riker hadn't been wearing a mask, the others might have noted tears in his eyes as he collapsed onto the floor, laughing.
Stars
Worf could only stare at the stars that passed by.
Somewhere, a thousand lightyears away, Alexander's ship had been damaged, perhaps fatally. The distress signal was still transmitting, but they would answer no hails. Even as the Enterprise warped to give aid, Worf could do little but wait.
Unexpectedly, something orange brushed against his leg.
Spot, usually loud and obtrusive and barely tolerable by the Klingon, now sat a meter away, quiet, calm, and watching the passing lights with as much contemplation as her new owner.
Worf gave a soft grunt in acknowledgment, and turned back to the stars.
I like Star Trek:TNG.
I like being warm in a cold room.
So I've got John Denver playing on my laptop, am wrapped in a soft, blue robe that my aunt bought me for Christmas, and have decided to once again write TNG ficlets that I'll never complete. Whoo!
Voices
"Hello, brother."
"Hello, B-4."
"Why are you here, brother?"
"Because I have no where else to be. And because I must ask you to do something for me. It is... it is very important that you do this for me, B-4."
"I will attempt to do as you ask, but it will depend on the complexity--"
"That is sufficient. ...I thank you."
B-4 gasped, sitting up straight from his position slumped over a work station in Engineering. Geordi was there immediately, hand on his shoulder, concern plain but only getting out a worried "B-4-- ?" before having a PADD shoved in his face. B-4 was a quick writer.
Geordi took the PADD. He gave the android a confused look before reading it, aloud.
"Ferengi are Yankee Traders. Treaties mean little. Use caution, stay safe."
Standard Faire
There had always been something a little ridiculous about their holodeck adventures. Even something as simple as a game of Parrises Squares could quickly degenerate into an entire roomful of giggling, chuckling, and amused (for Klingons do not laugh) crewmen if the mood was right.
So when William Riker came through the holodeck arch in a costume that, he could only assume, was standard faire for the adventure the others had picked out, he wasn't quite sure if he would have been more or less disturbed if the others waiting in the currently deactivated holodeck weren't similarly dressed.
He paused a moment, looking first at the assembled bridge crew, then back at the fading holodeck arch, and finally settling on Data's costume. Or, more precisely, the pea-green bowler hat he wore. When Data met his gaze, the android propped the side of the bowler up with the oddly-shaped top of his gold cane, and nodded in greeting.
If Riker hadn't been wearing a mask, the others might have noted tears in his eyes as he collapsed onto the floor, laughing.
Stars
Worf could only stare at the stars that passed by.
Somewhere, a thousand lightyears away, Alexander's ship had been damaged, perhaps fatally. The distress signal was still transmitting, but they would answer no hails. Even as the Enterprise warped to give aid, Worf could do little but wait.
Unexpectedly, something orange brushed against his leg.
Spot, usually loud and obtrusive and barely tolerable by the Klingon, now sat a meter away, quiet, calm, and watching the passing lights with as much contemplation as her new owner.
Worf gave a soft grunt in acknowledgment, and turned back to the stars.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2007-01-06 12:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-07 12:40 am (UTC)http://memory-alpha.org/en/wiki/B-4
no subject
Date: 2007-01-07 01:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-08 05:34 am (UTC)I think I spend an unhealthy ammount of time at Memory Alpha, just looking at stuff. :3
Look at the very bottom of the 'Brent Spiner' page to see all the different people he's played -- the ones from A Fistful of Datas are hilarious.
no subject
Date: 2007-01-08 06:37 am (UTC)