From: crissy@nospam.com Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative Subject: NEW: "Klingon Drama Queen" Part 1/PG-13 Date: Tue, 28 Sep 2004 00:20:03 GMT Message-ID: <4158ac0c.194986075@News2.100ProofNews.com> X-Newsreader: Forte Free Agent 1.21/32.243 NNTP-Posting-Host: 205.215.62.202 Organization: 100ProofNews.com - Unlimited Downloads - $8.95/Month Lines: 317 X-Authenticated-User: 6473009 Path: newsspool2.news.atl.earthlink.net!stamper.news.atl.earthlink.net!elnk-atl-nf1!newsfeed.earthlink.net!prodigy.com!prodigy.com!in.100proofnews.com!News.100ProofNews.com!Opticon.100ProofNews.com!not-for-mail Xref: news.earthlink.net alt.startrek.creative:160927 X-Received-Date: Mon, 27 Sep 2004 17:20:24 PDT (newsspool2.news.atl.earthlink.net) <> Half Klingon, half Human, all drama, all the time. Theresa, Daughter of None: Confessions of a Teenage Klingon Drama Queen! by Christine Francis Part One, in which Theresa leaves home ("for GOOD!") and finds herself on some backwater occupied world ***** Theresa dipped and ducked through tunnels till she found the spot she was supposed to meet Sean O'Connell Her heart was pounding, and not from the physical activity. The note he'd sent said he HAD to see her. This could be either very good, or VERY bad. She didn't have long to wait. A split second before she felt arms reach around her from behind, she smelled that oh so familiar scent. "Sean," she whispered, smiling and leaning back into his arms. "I missed you so much!" he breathed into her hair. "I don't know what I'm gonna do. Ter, I have some bad news." He loosened his hold and turned her to face him. "I had a fight with my dad." "About me?" "Yeah. I mean, sort of. It was about a whole bunch of things. I… I shouldn't have pushed." He lowered his eyes, hardly able to look at her. "Oh, Terry, I messed things up real bad this time." "Tell me. Maybe there's something-" "No, there's nothing we can do. My dad is sending me to go live with my mom on her starship." Theresa felt her heart stop beating and the world grow dim. "No…" she whispered, shocked. Her arms fell to her sides, numb and useless. "I know. I feel like I'm gonna just die." He pulled her close. "I promise though, I'll come back. Whatever it takes. Even if it takes me years. You'll wait for me, right?" "What?" she blinked, trying to clear her head. "I'll be legal in two years, Ter! I can go wherever I want, then. I'll come back for you." "I... Yeah, sure, Of course I'll wait." "Good," he smiled with relief. "And once I get back we can get married. You still want to get married, right?" "We never really talked about that, Sean," she hedged. "I mean, we're still pretty young..." "But you said you'd wait for me. That's almost the same thing." "I-" He pulled her close, looking into her eyes. "We're practically married already. All that's lacking is the paperwork, right? And, well, you know. We haven't, like, DONE it yet." "But we talked about that, and-" "Hey!" his eyes grew big. "That's how we can seal our promise! We have to, Terry. I mean, with all the stuff that goes on, one of us could get killed or something, and then we'd always wonder. Right?" She stared at him for a moment. Something didn't seem right. He was talking about love and promises, but he was rubbing his knobby groin against her and his hands were acting like they had a mind of their own. "Come on, Theresa, you know I love you," he whispered, getting ever more daring. "Sean, slow down." "You want to, too. I know it." "But Sean, we agreed-" She tried to push him away, but her own body seemed to betray her. As his kisses became more and more urgent, her pulse quickened and her arguments fell away. Somehow her blouse was open. Somehow his hands were everywhere. Somehow the taste of his skin was in her mouth. Somehow they were on the floor. Somehow- Somehow everything suddenly became sharp and loud and bright, and somehow Sean's father's face was glaring at her. To relate the accusations and aspersions that were flung about would serve no purpose. Suffice to say the end result was Theresa, alone and hugging her disheveled clothing, weeping bitterly with anger, disappointment, and shame. ** "Honey, I can't do that," Poteet protested sadly. "The whole situation with Jerome means travel is totally restricted. Besides, T would kill me." "But I HAVE to get out of here!" Theresa pled. "Please, Poteet. If you don't help me, I swear I'll just take off and live in the woods on my own. I'll probably freeze to death or get eaten, and it'll be YOUR FAULT." "If you would just talk to T-" "She'd NEVER understand! Besides, all she cares about is control. She'd never let me out from under her thumb!" Poteet frowned. "I think you underestimate her, but... she can be kinda stubborn. And in this case,..." "You KNOW what she'd do. First she'd yell at me for being so stupid, like I didn't already know. Then she'd tell me to suck it up and deal, because I brought it on myself. She'd think she was building character or something, but she'd be killing me by degrees!" Poteet chewed her lip. She had limited experience with teenagers, and had the sneaking suspicion this one was being far too dramatic, but she also had no doubt her threats were real. If she helped the girl, at least she'd know where she was. "OK, look; I'm going to use my connections with Jerome to get you out of here. But you have to promise promise PROMISE to send for me if you need ANY help at all." "I'm not a baby, Poteet," Theresa groaned, disgusted. When the android's expression did not change, she assured her. "OK, if I need help-" "ANY help." "OK, OK, ANY help. I'll send for you right away." "I must have shorted a few circuits," Poteet shook her head. "OK, let's go. The sooner the better, so now's the time. Grab some clothes." "YES!" Theresa flung her arms around Poteet's neck and hugged her. "Thank you SO much!" "Don't thank me yet," the android grumbled. ** There was only one person Theresa felt she honestly owed anything approaching an explanation to, and that was Twyla- her "sister". But Theresa found Twyla with concerns of her own. Bleeding from her finger tips and cursing under her breath, Twyla struggled to sew some hides into something that might be called clothing. "Can you put that down for a minute?" Theresa asked, biting her lip. "I can hear you just fine. Talk." "But you're not paying attention. You're just going to say "uh-huh" a few times and when I'm done ask me to say it all over again." Twyla let her hands fall in her lap and glared up at her sister. "Everything that happens to you is SO important, isn't it! Did you ever stop to think I might have important things going on TOO?" Theresa blinked. "... yeah. OK, look, what's going on?" "No, please, you first. You're the one who came in here with something IMPORTANT to say." "... Fine. OK. Look, I'm leaving." "Don't go on my account." "No, I mean I'm leaving the colony. The planet." The sewing fell from Twyla's hands to the floor. Her eyes grew large with questions. ** That was over a week ago, and the tears still swam behind Theresa's eyes. Ever since Twyla had fallen victim to the evil known as Quinn Renton, she had been smaller and more frail that her "sisters". Naturally, Theresa had begun thinking of Twyla like a little sister, someone who needed protecting and sheltering from the coarser things in life. And now she was abandoning her. She sat back with a woeful sigh, then glared at the back of the co-pilot's head. Apparently the grabby little man had found her irresistibly attractive. Things escalated to a bad level, till the pilot had reminded his compadre of Jerome's most explicit warnings about the fate of anyone who harmed their passenger. That had ended things coldly and completely, and begun the uneasy silence. Her periodic "are we there yet?" questions remained unanswered. Nothing left to do but regret her old life and contemplate her new one. She'd been looking for a translation of her name in the Klingon dictionary and found "wejbe' " to be the closest, but she really didn't think she'd care to answer to it. She'd keep her own name. It was good enough for T, right? She'd been commander of the entire Klingon fleet, and never took a Klingon name. Besides, in a culture that strong one HAD to hold on to one's own identity. "Theresa" she would remain. As for what she could do to earn and justify her keep... She really had no marketable skills. She would have to see if she could apprentice someplace. She was a fair huntress, so eating shouldn't be a problem so long as there was game. Naturally, her predictions of what life would be like were teenager-dire and teenager-dramatic. In the case of life on a Klingon colony though, she just might not be too far from the mark. ** Radekians. That's what the people were called. Rude. That's what Theresa would call them. Oh, she understood the idea of an occupied world. She also understood the concept of racism that ran so deep as to include children. In fact, she remembered once on Versailles meeting a man who believed eradication of the Klingon race meant impregnating as many female Klingons as he could literally get his hands on (luckily Bowden intervened before the man could extend his parameters for what constituted a viable Klingon female). But just because she understood these ideas didn't make her any less irritated with them. "I'm just a kid, for crying out loud!" she screamed at one woman who hastened her children away as Theresa turned on to their street. Damn Jerome's flunkies! They said they didn't dare get any closer to the Klingon facilities, so they shoved her off the ship and pointed her in the general direction. "I'll make a deal," she grumbled, trudging down yet another lane in this confusing maze of urban banality. "Get me to the Klingons, and I'll keep your dust off my feet." Of course, she wasn't stupid enough to say this where anyone could hear. She had a pretty good idea what some (maybe most) Radekians would do to a lone Klingon girl who had no idea where she was going and was expected by no one. She was just a kid, but she knew if she didn't act like she knew what she was doing she could end up just a dead kid. Theresa hitched her little bag over her other shoulder, took a deep breath, and set out down yet another ticky-tacky street in this ticky-tacky world. Already she missed the icy breezes of what was becoming her home. Already she missed the open lonely spaces and the strong moaning winds. Already she missed the hunt. Did they even hunt here? She doubted it. What was the most ironic thing of all, though, was that everything she missed was pretty much everything she'd ignored for the sake of a boy. A BOY. Not even a man! "I'll never think with my hormones again," she swore vehemently, but she knew she was only kidding herself. And as if to prove it, something tantalizing tickled her nostrils and made her stop and take notice. Klingons. Big sweaty male ones. Passed this way maybe two hours ago, maybe three. Some of them were young... and strong... and... "mmmm...." She sighed, her eyes closed. There was a scrape and a thud. Theresa winced open one eye and spotted a disconcerted-looking Radekian backed up against a door like he wanted to press his body through the very fiber of it. His face was full of revulsion, peppered by conditional fear- fear of what the hell this crazy Klingon female thought she was doing alone in the middle of his town. After all, a sane Klingon (now there's an oxymoron for you), so young and apparently helpless, would never venture out alone like this. Any idiot with half a brain would think it was a trap. But it was the quarter-brained idiots she needed to worry about, and the door-hugger was looking none too bright. Theresa resumed her former gait and followed the scent, surreptitiously (she hoped) wiping the bit of drool from the corner of her mouth. It mattered not if she tracked or back-tracked. It all came to the same thing. Klingons would have come from Klingons, and be headed towards Klingons. So when the scent began to fade slightly, she never lost a step- looking like a confident mangbe' as if her life depended on it. And so it might. ** Theresa was mop-wielding warrior queen of the upper hallways. She grinned to herself, remembering the little games she and her sisters would play to pass the time while doing drudge work. It wasn't so bad though. Hell, how long had it been since she had an actual floor to mop? Too long. She'd seen where she was supposed to sleep. Pitiful, compared to the best of what she'd had on Versailles. Luxury compared to what she had in the caves on the planet she'd just left. The planet where she'd disgraced herself, disgraced her sisters, and disgraced the progenitor. T was probably going crazy right now, trying to figure out where she'd gone. She hoped it never occurred to T to ask Poteet, because the android was a terrible liar. Sean... did he even care where she went? Had he ever cared about anything but his own gratification? To be fair he was fifteen and composed entirely of raw nerves and brimming hormones - like most human teenage boys. Maybe she expected too much. But what about what she expected of herself? She'd never had her body overrule her mind like that before. She was also pubescent, true, but shouldn't she have SOME control? It kinda scared her a little, and she HATED being scared. It made her want to chop something... or gut someone... or rip something yielding and bloody with her bared fangs... She had to stop a moment, open the top button on her bodice, and fan herself for a bit. Heat rose, right? Upper levels... bound to be warm... Sure, that was it. Bending down, she pulled the rinsed mob from the bucket and wrung it out. From somewhere behind her was a growling chuckle. Theresa stood and whirled in time to see a young male apparently appreciating the view. But then he looked her over and got an irritated look on his face. He muttered something about "puq" (child) and went on his way. It was on her tongue to protest, to say she wasn't a kid, but she realized only a kid would say such a thing. "loDqan," (old man) she shot back, and went back to mopping. The fading muttered swear words behind her only served to make her grin. Theresa was mop-wielding warrior queen of the upper hallways. ******END PART 1************* <> x-- 100 Proof News - http://www.100ProofNews.com x-- 3,500+ Binary NewsGroups, and over 90,000 other groups x-- Access to over 1 Terabyte per Day - $8.95/Month x-- UNLIMITED DOWNLOAD NewMessage: From: crissy@nospam.com Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative Subject: "Klingon Drama Queen" Part 2 PG-13 Date: Tue, 28 Sep 2004 16:36:13 GMT Message-ID: <41599232.51974805@News2.100ProofNews.com> X-Newsreader: Forte Free Agent 1.21/32.243 NNTP-Posting-Host: 205.215.62.202 Organization: 100ProofNews.com - Unlimited Downloads - $8.95/Month Lines: 252 X-Authenticated-User: 6473009 Path: newsspool2.news.atl.earthlink.net!stamper.news.atl.earthlink.net!elnk-atl-nf1!newsfeed.earthlink.net!in.100proofnews.com!News.100ProofNews.com!Opticon.100ProofNews.com!not-for-mail Xref: news.earthlink.net alt.startrek.creative:160938 X-Received-Date: Tue, 28 Sep 2004 09:36:22 PDT (newsspool2.news.atl.earthlink.net) Half Klingon, half Human, all drama, all the time. Theresa, Daughter of None: Confessions of a Teenage Klingon Drama Queen! by Christine Francis (Feedback wanted) Part Two, in which Theresa mops floors (AGH!), goes on a mission (AGH!) gets drunk (AGH!) and makes a friend. (AAAAAAGH!!!) ****** Something crazy was going on in raDen's office. There had been the thunk of a knife blade biting into the door, as well as lots of shouting. "If someone bleeds on this floor, I'm gonna be REAL pissed," she grumbled. She was concentrating on a particularly bad smudge when one of the young warriors she'd observed earlier came striding by. Maybe he had his chest puffed out a bit too far, and maybe he had his mind on other things, but whatever the distraction he didn't see the bucket and kicked it over, tripping and nearly falling in the process. "Perfect," Theresa slumped. "You IDIOT!" the warrior turned red, then purple. "Hey," Theresa slowly got to her feet. "It's a big bucket. The floor is wet. I'm ON the floor with a scrub brush in my hand. If you're so smart, how'd you manage to miss all those clues and TRIP over the damned thing?" "qoHbe'!" He swung his hand back to strike her, but the move left him wide open for Theresa's boot to connect with an alarming crunch with his groin. That alone was not enough to bring him down, but it was enough to make him pause. Theresa grabbing the offending bucket and swinging it upside his head was enough to bring him down. As he lay stunned she squatted down and grabbed a handful of his hair, pulling his head out of the soapy water. "Two things," she began, a cold smile on her face. "One, I can't abide a bully. Two, I'm smaller, weaker, and less skilled than you. That means I can't afford to fight honorably. That also means I should just kill you, so I don't have to worry about you coming after me later, but I just spent the last hour scrubbing this floor and I'll be damned if I'll spent one more minute on it cleaning up after a loud obnoxious Hurgh-nach like you. But if you do come after me, you'd better do it quietly and from behind. Because every time I see you, I'm gonna be ready to go for a kill before you get the chance to get in many licks of your own. Got it?" The warrior simply stared at her. Theresa stared back for a moment, then dropped his head. As an afterthought, she turned his face to the side so he wouldn't drown in the shallow puddle. Grabbing the mop she spent a few minutes getting up the water. Inside raDen's office the shouting rose and fell in waves, but Theresa's attention was on the warrior. She half expected him to get up and simply kill her, and she didn't want to make it too easy for him. He did no such thing, though. He lay on the floor, watching her work. Once she grabbed the bucket and started to leave, he called out and asked her name. "I am Theresa, daughter of none," she answered, backing away a little. "Do you have a lover, Theresa, daughter of none?" "Already wondering if someone'll avenge my death? No. No lover." "Would you like one?" She stared in disbelief. "Do not dismiss me till I have pled my case," he proceeded in a rush, slowly getting up. "As you can see, I'm very strong and attractive. And I assure you, I have considerable stamina." He held out a hand to stall her reply. "I know poems! Good ones!" "Yeah? Know any about people from Nantucket? No, never mind- this is insane. Look, just stay away from me, ok?" "How could you bid me stay away? How could you deprive me of the sight of your exquisite form?" "I'm gonna treat you to the sight of my exquisite ass!" she spat, turned, and stomped away. "Thank you!" he called after her, happily. "You were right, it IS exquisite!" Her scream of frustration only widened the smile on his face. ** Dressed enough like a Radekian to pass casual inspection, Theresa tracked back through the winding roads that brought her to raDen's house. Her shaggy hair covered her shallow ridges, and most of her face when the wind blew. But more importantly was the medium pace she kept, and the parts of the road she kept too. She forewent the prideful stride of a Klingon, but did not take on a furtive scamper. She basically tried to look as much like she belonged where she was and knew where she was going as possible, and for the most part she carried it off. When she got to the place where Qang found her, she began taking little forays in each direction to see if she could tell where he came from. There were lots of doors, but it was the middle of the day and she didn't feel confident about going through any of them. Down one lane though, the road petered quickly to a dirt trail. As the light was failing, Theresa headed down the track at a brisk pace to check it out. Her hunter's eyes soon picked out dark shadows behind an overgrown bush. When she pulled a few branches aside, the shadows turned out to be the mouth of a cave. The floor of the entrance showed recent passage, so without a backward look Theresa went in. Once obscured by shadows, she peered out to make sure she hadn't been followed. Assured, she turned back and felt her way along the wall. Apparently the cave was actually an adit, a small mine entrance. She didn't go far before her hand found beams holing the walls and ceiling in place. She hadn't gone too much farther before the tunnel opened up to a large cavern, lit dimly by a few small holes in the ceiling that admitted the failing sunlight. To one side was a low table covered with papers. She quickly went over to it, shuffling through the papers with a slow smile. She'd hit, to succumb to the cliché, the mother lode. Shuffling the maps and papers together, she then rolled them up and tucked them under her arm. Not bad for a day's work. Pleased with herself, she headed back out to retrace her steps home. ** Theresa dragged herself out of a strange bed. Most of the previous evening was a blur, but she did remember discovering she had an endless thirst for bloodwine. The room smelled of sweat, bile, and flatulence. She knew with lesser genes she would be violently ill right now, instead of just disgusted. A quick check told her not only did she have all her clothes on, but they had not been disturbed. Now all she needed to know was why. The smell of crudely brewed raktajino reached her nose and enticed her out of the room. An old warrior stood at a table pouring out two steaming mugs. "Well," he barked gruffly, "it lives. Sit down and drink this." "Who-" she began. "Sit DOWN!" he glared from under bushy gray eyebrows. Setting down the pot he took a seat and grabbed one of the mugs. "I'm surprised you have the strength to argue. But never fear, we will have a talk. AFTER a cup or two." Theresa was sufficiently cowed to keep her hackles down and get her ass in a chair. The brew tasted as crude as it smelled, but it was just the thing to clear her head- and allow memories to appear through the mental fog. "Oh, no..." she moaned, finally recognizing the man seated across from her. Eyes lit with a twinkle, the old codger laughed out loud. "Oh, yes," he confirmed. "You are extremely lucky I was sober enough last night to wonder who's child you were and intervene on your behalf, else you would have awoken in a very different condition." "I can take care of myself," she grumbled into her mug. "They would have torn you apart like a feast day targ, then defiled what bits were left. A woman might be able to hold her own with such as they, but you are no woman. You are but a girl, still hoping for hips to fill out your skirts. Still, as drunk as they were, all they saw was female. And don't start thinking their enthusiasm meant you are such a prize. They would have fought over a one-legged targ-faced grandmother, if she seemed available. Amusement is hard to come by in a place like this." Theresa swallowed her pride with her brew. "Thank you," she murmured. "You can thank me by promising not to find yourself in such a situation," he grumbled back. "I don't know what your parents thought, sending you out on your own at an age when you should be home fending off the advances of pimple-faced peers." "I have no parents." He stared at her for a moment. "You ran away from your home," he concluded. "Yeah? So?" "No one will come looking for you?" "No. I told you, I have no parents. No real family. I'm alone." "You expect me to feel sorry for you?" "Feel what you want to feel. It changes nothing." He stared again, then raised a finger and shook it at her. "You see? It's your mouth that will get you in trouble every time, girl." "No surprises there. You could say it runs in the family." She swallowed again, slumping. "Thanks for the help and the bed and the raktajino. I should be going." She set her mug down and slid out of the chair. "I will not see you in that place again," he said. It wasn't a question or a request, it was a command. "You got it, sporto. I'll be doing my drinkin' solo from now on." He gave a gruff half-growl in answer, and nodded her off. At the door Theresa paused, her back to him. "And thanks for not, you know, taking advantage." He growled again. "I may be old, but I am still a man. I have done things that perhaps fall shy of standards of propriety, but never have I sunk so low as to lie with one young enough to be my granddaughter." "Well, ya got that goin' for ya." She turned, rendered a mock salute, and left. The old man shook his head, then gave a little chuckle. He had to admit it was flattering she hadn't assumed he was not capable of taking advantage. Unlike the youngsters he had wrested her from. THEY would readily believe he was as celibate as a monk, and by necessity rather than choice. He would have to endure some wise cracks over this, and perhaps crack a few heads. He needn't have worried. Later Theresa passed by a few of the warriors who had been at the bar. "Spent the night at grandfather's house, did you?" they jeered. "Did he feed you cookies and sing you to sleep?" "Grandfather?!" Theresa scoffed, irritated and their smug disrespect. "That old man wore me out! I begged him to let me stay with him, but he said he couldn't be tied down to one woman! Now if you'll excuse me, I have some reading to do. I'll have to learn a few things before I can keep up with a REAL warrior like him!" The young men stood with their mouths open. For weeks they stole wondering gazes at the old warrior, granting him enough respect to make him suspicious and cranky. ***** <> x-- 100 Proof News - http://www.100ProofNews.com x-- 3,500+ Binary NewsGroups, and over 90,000 other groups x-- Access to over 1 Terabyte per Day - $8.95/Month x-- UNLIMITED DOWNLOAD NewMessage: From: crissy@nospam.com Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative Subject: "Klingon Drama Queen" Part 3, PG-13 Date: Wed, 29 Sep 2004 12:39:43 GMT Message-ID: <415aab95.124017227@News2.100ProofNews.com> X-Newsreader: Forte Free Agent 1.21/32.243 NNTP-Posting-Host: 205.215.62.202 Organization: 100ProofNews.com - Unlimited Downloads - $8.95/Month Lines: 339 X-Authenticated-User: 6473009 Path: newsspool2.news.atl.earthlink.net!stamper.news.atl.earthlink.net!elnk-atl-nf1!newsfeed.earthlink.net!in.100proofnews.com!News.100ProofNews.com!Opticon.100ProofNews.com!not-for-mail Xref: news.earthlink.net alt.startrek.creative:160940 X-Received-Date: Wed, 29 Sep 2004 05:39:59 PDT (newsspool2.news.atl.earthlink.net) Half Klingon, half Human, all drama, all the time. Theresa, Daughter of None: Confessions of a Teenage Klingon Drama Queen! by Christine Francis (Feedback appreciated) Part Three, in which Theresa meets.... BOYS! ***** Three Radekian youths, all carrying sticks. Theresa shook her head sadly. "This is what I get for attempting some cultural exchange." The boys exchanged glances. They had talked themselves into this, each thinking cornering one lone Klingon girl would mean easy prey, but they had time now to re-think it while their intended prey looked not at all as worried and scared as they pictured she would. Instead of begging for mercy, she was actually getting ready to take them on. All three! "Well?" she asked impatiently. "Are we gonna do this?" Were they? "Go ahead," one prodded. "No, you!" another said. None of them were fighters, much less killers. The goal had been to see a Klingon cower and cringe. Beyond that, they really hadn't thought it out. With a sigh of disgust, Theresa stepped toward the trio. She was even more disgusted when they backed up. "You have got to be kidding me. Dammit, what the hell did you start this for? Oh, no," she warned, as the heretofore silent third partner started to back up some more. "I absolutely promise you, if you drop your sticks and run, I will hunt you down and kick your asses up on to the backs of your necks." Apparent strangers to metaphor, the boys exchanged confused and even more worried looks. "You don't even know how to fight, do you?" she more accused than asked. "You don't even make good bullies. But I guess that's a point in your favor. Look, if you're not gonna beat me up, could you at least introduce yourselves and pretend this was all a big ice breaker with a view to a conversation?" Again, perplexed looks tinged with mounting unease. "I'm Theresa, daughter of none." She extended a hand, rolling her eyes when it made one of them flinch. "I promise I won't bite you. Well... not yet, anyway. Come on, guys! You chased me in here. You at least owe me an explanation of what you thought you were doing!" "We..." one stepped forward, lowering his stick. "We really didn't think it through. We just wanted some revenge." "On me?" "On Klingons." "For peeing in your oatmeal?" "What?" She shook her head, leaning against a wall. "Never mind. Let me guess. For some time now you've been hearing adults talk about how bad the Klingons are and how some day the Radekians would rise up and overthrow the tyrants yadda yadda ya." "Something like that," the second admitted. "Klingons are animals," the third finally spoke up. "I got news for ya, kid," Theresa folded her arms across her chest. "You ain't smellin' none too fresh, yourself." The third blushed darkly, shoving back when he got elbowed by his buddies. "You know," Theresa began in a calm relaxed way, "part of becoming an adult is finding things out for yourself and forming your own opinions based on your own observations. Let farm animals follow the herd. You're supposed to be smarter than that. Right?" "Klingons... aren't... animals?" the second tested the waters. Theresa smiled, showing many teeth. "Oh, we're animals, baby. We're the very WORST kind of animals. Don't you ever forget it. But there's one thing worse than an animal, and that's a coward. We don't even tolerate cowards among our own kind. They usually die horribly at the hands of their own families." "So we're cowards if we don't fight you?" the first asked, "or if we do?" "I think you got yourself the classic no-win scenario here, toots. Like I said before, your only manly way out is to turn this whole outing into something different and act like that's what you wanted all along." "Different.... How?" Theresa grinned again. "Oh, I don't know, how about buy me a drink? Maybe treat me to lunch? That'd be pretty damn different." "I don't-" "Buy me something to eat or I kick all your asses right here and now." "So!" The second set his stick against the wall and rubbed his hands together. "Who's hungry for some hot melish sandwiches?" ** Their names didn't exactly roll off her tongue, so she gave them nicknames (which they accepted with a mixture of embarrassment and flattery). The first, most forward of the three started to say his name. It was something like "Sigfjelp", or so it seemed to Theresa, so she re-christened him "Siggy". The other two were easier after that. The second, a taller more well-built boy she dubbed "Biggy". The last, most reticent of the three she named "Wiggy." After they called her "Terry-Sah" a few times, she made it easier on them (and flew in the face of irony) by having them simply call her "T". After lunch, which they brought out to be eaten in the open (since none of them really cared to draw attention), they went to a box canyon with some shallow caves that the boys had discovered and adopted as a sort of club house. Over the next few days they met there. No actual arrangements were made, they just sort of showed up roughly around the same time. Having never been anywhere or done anything, the boys spent most of the time pumping Theresa for stories. A day came, though, when Theresa was unusually quiet. "So what do you want to do?" Siggy asked. Theresa just sat there, not looking anywhere in particular. "We could go tag burrow dogs with rocks," Biggy suggested. "Then we could roast 'em over fire." He turned to Theresa. "We tried to skin 'em and save the skins to make blankets, but they stank something awful. You know how to tan hides, right? Didn't you say you and your sister did that on that snow planet?" "Yeah," Theresa said without enthusiasm. "Maybe she doesn't like burrow dogs," Wiggy suggested. "At least, not roasted. You like 'em raw, right T?" She seemed to slowly wake herself, then looked from one to another. "Don't you guys pay attention to what's going on?" All three looked sufficiently confused to let her know they didn't. "This colony, this planet, was under attack. They missed, but the fact remains someone had us in their sights and they might come back for another go." Again, not a mote of understanding. "Guys," she held her hands out as if begging them to understand. "Haven't you noticed there aren't many Klingons on the streets lately? Haven't you noticed all our shit is locked up tighter than a cheese-eating Bolian's bung-hole? Did it not occur to you to even WONDER? How the holy HELL can you talk about stupid BURROW DOGS?!" "Well..." Siggy's brow darkened with gathering irritation. "How are we supposed to know? Who would tell us?" Theresa slapped a hand over her eyes and rubbed them a bit, letting out a long sigh. "You're right, you're right. Sorry guys. I... I should have said something. Of course you wouldn't know. I just figured a general announcement or ... no, I can see that wouldn't happen." "So who did it?" Biggy asked. "Huh?" "Who attacked?" "We don't know. Or at least, I'm not cleared to know. Either way, it looks pretty bad." "Worse than Klingons?" Siggy scoffed. Theresa shrugged. "They ran away before we could find out, so I'm thinking they aren't much for fighting." "No, I mean if they come and invade us, could they be any worse than being invaded by Klingons?" She gave him a dark look. "There's worse. Trust me. There's a LOT worse." She then gave them a quickie glossed-over run-down of some of Quinn Renton's more heinous acts in the last days of Versailles as she knew it. They didn't seem to want to believe her, until she got to the part about what he'd done to her sister, Twyla. "I always heard Klingons couldn't cry," Wiggy mentioned softly. "I'm only half Klingon, half-wit," Theresa snapped fuzzily. Biggy shoved Wiggy, who of course shoved back, then Siggy smacked the both of them upside the head. "Idiots," Theresa grumbled, wiping her face and getting up. "Anyway, I snuck out and came down here for a reason. You three assholes need to learn how to fight." "Why?" Wiggy looked up from rubbing his injured head. "I mean, if they come back, you'll fight them off." "If we can," she agreed. "But what if all we can do is buy you time? You should be ready." "We'll negotiate, like we did with the Klingons," Siggy shrugged. "Not everyone is interested in negotiating. And if Klingon lives are lost defending your asses, I'll be damned if I'm gonna let you just roll over and play dead when it comes down to it." "We wouldn't," Biggy vowed seriously. "We'll fight." "Yeah," Wiggy agreed, but didn't look half so enthusiastic. "You think they're going to just walk up to us and challenge us to a bare knuckles match?" Siggy scoffed. "If they come, they'll use their energy weapons. We don't have anything that can stand up to that." "There's more to fighting than just coming to blows," Theresa stepped out into the canyon. "You have to learn how to use your environment. You know the terrain and the area. You have the advantage there. And you have to learn how to turn anything into a weapon. You already know how to nail rats with a rock. That's a good start." "Right. We're going to hide in caves and pelt the enemy with rocks." Theresa glowered. "No, Siggy. They are gonna fight. YOU are gonna bend over and spread your hairless cheeks so the enemy can-" "Hey!" Biggy chimed in, anxious to interrupt. "So what about some hand to hand training? I think I could use some practice." She favored each one with a glare, then sighed. "Yeah, ok, let's see what ya got. Line up. I'll take you one at a time, that way maybe the other two can watch and learn." "She'll take us one at a time," Biggy giggled quietly, nudging Wiggy. "While the other two watch," Wiggy shoved back, also giggling. Siggy turned without a word and slapped the pair of them upside the head. "Idiots," Theresa shook her head and sighed. ** Siggy hung back to go last. Biggy was in the front, but at the last moment shoved Wiggy out in front of him. Wiggy began to give protest, but had (unfortunately for Wiggy) been shoved within Theresa's grasp. In short order he was laying in a heap against the canyon wall. "See how I used leverage?" she explained, reaching for Wiggy again. "I used my hip as a pivot point and once I got him off balance, his own momentum did most of the work for me." She stood Wiggy up and brushed him off. Then she backed up and made a "come here" motion with her hands. Looking like he'd rather wear his sister's clothes and parade down the main street, Wiggy reluctantly advanced. He was re-acquainted with the ground in short order. Having had enough for the moment, he crawled off to heal his pride. Biggy was next, feet wide and taking as solid a stance as possible. Theresa faked a frontal attack, but as she spun around to avoid him she gave a vicious kick to the back of his knee. She then jumped up and slung an arm around his neck from behind, adding to his weight and taking advantage of his momentary loss of balance. He staggered, but did not go down. Theresa reached up with her free hand and gently pressed her fingers against his eyes. "If I pushed my fingers in, jabbing at your eyes, you'd have a quick but painful death." At this she let go and slid off. With a slap to Biggy's butt, she sent him to sit with Wiggy. Before she could turn, an arm slid around her waist and a hand closed around her neck. "Not fair!" Wiggy shouted. "Real combat rarely is," Theresa choked, then simply let her legs go to rubber. As she dragged down, she tucked as if to go in a roll and managed to flip Siggy over her head. As he landed on his back, trying to clutch at her, she brought an elbow down and let it rest against his nose. "If I drove my elbow down with just a bit of force, I would drive the bone in your nose right up into your brain." "Or at least knock his teeth down his throat," Biggy added with admiration in his voice. "It's not about being fair," Theresa said, backing off and straightening her clothing. "So much for Klingon honor," Siggy grumbled. "You can't afford honor," Theresa shot back. "The underdog never can. That's you. You're the underdogs here. Whoever takes you on had to have the technology to get here in the first place, so that pretty much guarantees they operate from a stronger position. That means you use anything and everything to stay alive and kill as many of them as you can." "Teach us more," Siggy smiled sardonically. "We can go form a rebel cell with this training, and kick out the Klingons once and for all." "Don't make me kill you." It wasn't a joke, it wasn't a brag. It was a simple request. The look in her eyes let them know it was a serious request. "The Klingons are gonna wear them down so we can handle 'em," Wiggy chimed in. "Right T?" "If they come back," she added. "If they attack. I'm sure raDen is getting reinforcements, so they won't find things the way they left them." An odd smile pulled at her mouth. "Might be a pretty good fight." She stayed that way for a few seconds, then shook it off. "Come on, let's talk Molotov Cocktails." "We're drinking?" Wiggy quietly asked Biggy as they followed her out of the canyon. "Maybe she'll show us how to poison them," he answered with a shrug. "Her breath would be sufficient," Siggy quipped, then ducked as Biggy and Wiggy each slapped him upside the head. ***** x-- 100 Proof News - http://www.100ProofNews.com x-- 3,500+ Binary NewsGroups, and over 90,000 other groups x-- Access to over 1 Terabyte per Day - $8.95/Month x-- UNLIMITED DOWNLOAD NewMessage: From: crissy@nospam.com Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative Subject: "Klingon Drama Queen" Part 4, PG-13 Date: Thu, 30 Sep 2004 15:20:03 GMT Message-ID: <415c23a0.220293835@News2.100ProofNews.com> X-Newsreader: Forte Free Agent 1.21/32.243 NNTP-Posting-Host: 205.215.62.202 Organization: 100ProofNews.com - Unlimited Downloads - $8.95/Month Lines: 392 X-Authenticated-User: 6473009 Path: newsspool2.news.atl.earthlink.net!stamper.news.atl.earthlink.net!elnk-atl-nf1!newsfeed.earthlink.net!in.100proofnews.com!News.100ProofNews.com!Opticon.100ProofNews.com!not-for-mail Xref: news.earthlink.net alt.startrek.creative:160949 X-Received-Date: Thu, 30 Sep 2004 08:20:24 PDT (newsspool2.news.atl.earthlink.net) Half Klingon, half Human, all drama, all the time. Theresa, Daughter of None: Confessions of a Teenage Klingon Drama Queen! by Christine Francis (feedback appreciated!) Part Four, in which Theresa has trouble with the boys (of course!), pretends to get sick, then really gets sick (GROSS!) ***** Theresa was becoming too adept at sneaking in and out of the Klingon compound- and why shouldn't she? Shorter, slighter, and only half Klingon, most warriors saw her without seeing her at all. She simply slipped beneath their radar. But Theresa knew it was lazy and dangerous to depend on such a thing. She also knew what it was like to be hunted in a very personal way. So every time she slipped easily around the periphery, she mentally goosed herself and forced herself to kick her awareness up a notch. The end result was she stayed below the radar, but she also started to get a very overdeveloped paranoia. "Shut up," she snapped at Biggy when he only looked like he might say something. "Just sit here a moment. We'll know in a few second if I was seen." "Maybe you should stop sneaking out here," he whispered close to her ear. "I mean, if it means you could get into trouble..." She shot him a slightly derisive look. "Honey, as they say back home, trouble is my middle name." "I didn't know Klingons had last names, much less middle ones." "It's an expression." "So why do you do it?" "What, use expressions?" "No, sneak out here. Risk getting in trouble." She looked at him for a moment. "Where's the other two?" "Waiting. We thought we'd attract less attention this way." "Smart." Theresa turned to look back out at the streets. "Look, I have my own reasons for coming out here." "And those are?" She looked him over, and saw a strange thing. She saw familiarity there, that precursor to friendship. She also saw some concern. "In the spectrum of things that matter, I'm pretty low on the scale in there. Consequently, I'm not even worth a moment of amusement. I'm pretty much dismissible. But I matter to you guys, even if it's just to relieve your boredom. Plus, I figure I'm doing a little public relations work here. And if you don't get your hand off my ass right this second, you're gonna eat it." "My hand or your ass?" He grinned, but he moved his hand anyway. "Tell me, Biggy. Am I the first girl you ever met who could whip you in a fight?" "You're the first person I ever met who could whip me in a fight. I'm nearly a head taller than my father, and a lot faster." "Uh-huh," she said in a knowing way, got up from her hiding crouch, and headed to their meeting place. "What?" he asked, following closely. "What's that supposed to mean?" "It means you're learning how to find different ways to win a fight." "What? Hey, wait! What? What's that supposed to mean? T! Wait up! T!!!" ** Theresa was almost certain she was being watched. Perhaps the fact that the compound was locked up so tight (to use her progenitor's expression) not even air escaped heightened her paranoia, but she didn't think so. Everywhere she went, the same face popped up. A young warrior, barely much older than she was, seemed to be everywhere. Well, everywhere she was. She didn't even have time to test the weak spots in the perimeter. Not with eyes on her. She was about to give up when she caught sight of Wiggy waving at her from outside a bit of fence at the end of an ally. "What the hell are you doing?!" she hissed. "T, you have to come," he started, his voice cracking with excitement. "SHHHHH! Can't you see what's going on here? We have to scrap it till things cool down!" "But that'll be too late! They'll kill each other! And it's all your fault!" Theresa closed her eyes and clapped her hand over them. "Dead gods, what now?" "Pol- er- Biggy told Siggy about what you did." "What? What'd I do?" "YOU know what you did!" "SHHHH!" Theresa glanced around, her stomach beginning to churn. "No, I don't know what I did, so will you just tell me what this is about? And keep your voice down!" "You and Biggy kissed." "WHAT?!" Theresa clapped both hands over her mouth and looked quickly around. The little alley she was in seemed deserted and quiet. Much too quiet. "I never did!" she whispered back, moving her hands to her stomach. "Biggy said-" "I don't give a flying fuck what Biggy said, you smooth-headed floppy-eared bung plug! I never so much as-.... Oh, that evil little sonofabitch." The situation became clear as crystal to her. "Lemme get this straight," she shifted to get comfortable, taking another glance around. Still quiet, and her stomach still felt uneasy about it. "Biggy told Siggy I kissed him, and this started a fight?" Wiggy gave her a "duh" look and nodded. "You guys are really making me chafe." If she sent Wiggy to deny Biggy's claims, they would both accuse Wiggy of just saying it to end the fight. In fact, Theresa had a sneaking suspicion if she went there in person, Biggy would act like she was simply denying it because she was embarrassed at getting caught. At any rate, Siggy's jealousy (coming from the approximate location of way out in left field) had moved him to violence. A few words wouldn't sooth it. "I feel sick," she sighed, then suddenly froze. "That's it!" Taking another look around, she moved closer to the fence (wary of avoiding any motion sensors). "I'm sick, Wiggy. Desperately ill." "You are?" Wiggy looked very confused. "Oh, yeah. I'm pretty much touch and go." "Touch and...?" "Could be serious. The, uh, doctors are working around the clock. And I.... Uh... Need... Prayers! Right! I need you guys to light a candle, or whatever it is you do, and, yeah. Pray for ... peace. Right. Pray for peace so the... uh... specialist can come and cure me." "You don't look sick," Wiggy mused, full of doubt. "I'm every bit as sick as I am kissed." Wiggy gasped. "Biggy gave you a disease?" Theresa slapped her forehead and dragged the hand down her face. "Just freakin' tell 'em I'm sick and they need to stop fighting and pray. Can you do that?" "I'm tellin' ya, T, you look fine." "WIGGY!" she blurted through gritted teeth. "Don't make me kill you, because then raDen will have to deal with me and I'll be more than sick. I'll be DEAD!" Wiggy backed up a few steps. "You're not sick, you're crazy!" "IT'S A SYMPTOM! Now go, before they kill each other!" Wiggy turned and ran, kicking up dust as he went. Theresa got up shaking her head, and trudged back out of the ally. Just as she emerged, she smelled a now familiar scent. She knew she'd been seen and heard. "Great," she sighed. She didn't even have to look. Whoever he was, he was doing his job. She felt a deep, DEEP temptation to try even harder to slip away, if only to get Mr. Nosey Detective in trouble, but she knew the way things felt on the compound these days meant dereliction of duty was a capitol offence right now. It was bad enough two stupid galoots were beating each other's faces in because of her. To get someone killed would put her in karma debt up to her eyeballs. How the hell did she miss it? They'd flirted, yeah. Just joking. And Siggy? She always thought Siggy was barely tolerating her. Of course NOW she could see he was just reacting to his discomfort and trying to cover up. And Biggy... he always kind of resented the fact that Siggy was smarter and always took the lead. He must have been overjoyed to finally come up with something to rub Siggy's face in. This was silly, all of it. Silly kid stuff. Just the kind of kid stuff that reminded her she wasn't really a kid and never really had been. She forgot that for a while, falling for the temptation to just have fun. She found a broom and started idly sweeping a walkway. It didn't need sweeping, and it wasn't her job, but no one was likely to see her and tell her to do something else. The key to military service seemed to be to look busy, so no one would bug you. So now it was ruined. No more fun. At least, not like it was. Or rather, like she thought it was. The whole debacle with Sean should have told her how miserably off she was when it came to reading people. "Men!" she hissed through her teeth. "Are they really just after one thing?" She paused to rub her stomach, as a wave of nervous nausea hit her. "Crap on a cracker," she sighed. "Wouldn't it be hilarious if I really did get sick?" ** Theresa found herself once more beholden to the elder warrior, the one called ro`baS. He was the only one she felt she could turn to with her sudden embarrassing problem. "You keep coming here," he pretended to complain as he let her in, "an my reputation keeps getting false boosts. raDen will think me vigorous enough to lead troops into battle again, before too long." He didn't exactly sound like he hated the idea. After Theresa told him her problem, he dug a jar of something off a shelf and dumped it into a mug of water. "Drink all of this. It'll firm up your inners." Firming up her inners sounded really good to Theresa, since right now her inners were so loose and flabby they threatened to turn her inside out. "Anything, if it means I don't have to live in a toilet from now on." She up-ended the mug, grimacing as she gulped the medicine down. "You've been eating food from the market. Out there," he jerked his thumb in the approximate direction of the town. "It looked ok! I've never had trouble with anything before. Hell, I've eaten things that aren't strictly food, and been fine." "It's not the food, it's the seasonings. Their diet is heavy on cheese, so they don't notice how the genk root affects them. Balances out." He grinned in a not so nice way. "You think you can just go anywhere and eat anything? You have a lot to learn." He peered at her. "You can't just lie with anything, either." "What? You think I lied to you?" "That's not what I said. Who bought you the food?" Suddenly she saw where he was going. "What makes you think I didn't buy it myself?" His look was answer enough. "Some boys," she answered his question with a shrug. "Just some guys I met." "You don't seem very happy about it." "I'm not. They're being jerks right now. I don't know why they have to be so-" "Male?" He wasn't smiling. "Theresa, daughter of none, you can not choose the reality you live in. People are who and what they are, whether you pretend to know it or not. There's no fault or blame in it, except in you if you expect anything more or anything less." "Oh, is that carved in stone somewhere?" she sneered. "So we can't ever aspire to anything better? Or expect others to?" "Are you a warrior, or a politician?" "Neither. Yet, anyway." She rested a hand on her belly. "I do feel better, though. Thanks. And don't worry, I don't plan to lie with anyone any time soon." Under her breath she grumbled "I learned my lesson on that one before I even got here." "They are no part of us and ours. Never forget that. Rest assured they do not." If she had rebukes, she kept them to herself. "Hang in there, ro`baS. You never know, you might get called up after all." He growled with his mouth and throat, but his eyes were smiling. ** It started very small. Three local boys (two of whom looked considerably chewed up) attended vespers, candles in hand. Then they stayed. Many of the faithful did, remaining after the service to address personal concerns before the icon of their choice. But these boys knelt before no particular icon. They chose dead center of the small space before the sanctuary, kneeling with candles in hand. "We pray for peace," was their answer to all inquiries. What did this mean? Many of the faithful shook their heads, leaving and gossiping as they went. Youth. It was synonymous with idiocy, was it not? But the clergy worried. They knew this kind of thing could attract all the wrong kind of attention. And it did. "You see how it is?" a rebel cried out in the square. "In this very chapel, three of our young men pray for peace, pray for release from Klingon tyranny!" "Nonesuch!" a matronly woman shouted back. "They pray to be saved from the new unseen enemy! I have heard of this! They pray the Klingons can defend us!" "They pray lunatics like you will shut UP!" a grizzled old man shouted. The gathering had all the earmarks of a riot in the making- except a high clear quiet voice somehow made itself heard. Inside, more children knelt. They all held candles, they all prayed in silence, till one youngster began to sing. It was a simple song, about leaves on the water, about clear cloudless skies, about bringing in the harvest. But to many, it was a song about old ways and less complicated times. Other children joined in. Outside, adults joined in the hymn. Only a few sang at first, but soon their voices numbered sufficiently to drown out the arguments. The square began to fill, not only with the faithful, not only with the curious, but with the hopeful. Other rumors had been circulating like a dark undercurrent. Yes, an unseen enemy was rumored to have attacked. Yes, the Klingons had taken on the role of protectors, not oppressors. And yes, pretty much everyone was sick to death of all the shouting and dying. Rumors are like weeds, they can catch hold almost anywhere and spread most proficiently. Theresa paled when she overheard two warriors discussing how they did not envy the warrior who must bring news of this new development to raDen. "I'm toast," she choked, wide eyes gleaming in the dark where she hid. She had to get out. A plan. That's what she needed. And a distraction. Something to get her out from the watchful eye of her "shadow". All she wanted to do was get those idiots to stop killing each other and get Wiggy off her back. She didn't know they would start some kind of non-violent protest. Her stomach gurgled, reminding her she'd had nothing to eat all day. Well, one does tend to lay off food when one's system decides it was all going in one end and out the other in rapid succession. A quick look at the mess hall showed her it was closed up tight. This was odd, since it usually stayed open to accommodate all shifts. She found an unlatched window and let herself in. Once inside, she knew why it was closed. Fumigation. The rodent problem must have gotten out of hand. It was fun for a while. You could pick up a little target practice with your lunch. But if the governor found rat droppings in her raktajino, that would be someone's head. Theresa covered her mouth with her collar and poked around looking for another way out. There was a delivery door in the back that hung unevenly on it's hinges. She could see light around the edges of it. This was probably how the rats got in. But more importantly, this was how she could quietly get out. She crept back inside, watching the window she'd climbed into. After some time had passed, her "shadow" became impatient and entered through the unlatched window. He swore as he shone a light around without seeing anything. Grinning, Theresa rattled a stack of pots to draw his attention. "Shadow" slipped in quickly and quietly, moving to the back. Just as quickly and quietly, Theresa moved a few stacks of pots and pans where they would be knocked over when the swinging door to the kitchen was opened. Then, after checking to make sure he was still headed toward her, she slipped out the back door and ran. She was about a dozen meters away when she heard the crash. More to the point, several other people heard it and ran for the mess hall. She grinned, turning and blending in with the growing crowd. Her "shadow" was discovered trying to unbury himself and explain why he was nosing around in the mess hall. It was all the subject of much amused speculation and laughter. Theresa joined right in, further blending into the crowd. Luckily, her lack of stature hid her from the "shadow's" view. When the amusement wore off, she moved with her section of the crowd. Everyone there assumed she was with someone of the group, even though none of them knew her. That worked out fine, since she was able to slip away once more before anyone had the chance to question her. Now that she was on her own it was easy to get out. She climbed a low roof and scampered down the other side, where the eaves nearly hung out over the fence. Then she simply jumped. A tuck and a roll later, she was out. Now to find those three idiots and get them to quit their little vigil before raDen caught wind of it- or more importantly, who put them up to it. ***** x-- 100 Proof News - http://www.100ProofNews.com x-- 3,500+ Binary NewsGroups, and over 90,000 other groups x-- Access to over 1 Terabyte per Day - $8.95/Month x-- UNLIMITED DOWNLOAD NewMessage: From: crissy@nospam.com Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative Subject: "Klingon Drama Queen" Part Five, PG-13 Date: Sat, 02 Oct 2004 00:10:34 GMT Message-ID: <415df1a9.338586461@News2.100ProofNews.com> X-Newsreader: Forte Free Agent 1.21/32.243 NNTP-Posting-Host: 205.215.62.202 Organization: 100ProofNews.com - Unlimited Downloads - $8.95/Month Lines: 191 X-Authenticated-User: 6473009 Path: newsspool2.news.atl.earthlink.net!stamper.news.atl.earthlink.net!elnk-atl-nf1!newsfeed.earthlink.net!in.100proofnews.com!News.100ProofNews.com!Opticon.100ProofNews.com!not-for-mail Xref: news.earthlink.net alt.startrek.creative:160957 X-Received-Date: Fri, 01 Oct 2004 17:10:45 PDT (newsspool2.news.atl.earthlink.net) Half Klingon, half Human, all drama, all the time. Theresa, Daughter of None: Confessions of a Teenage Klingon Drama Queen! Part Five, in which Theresa and the boy get in some deep DEEP trouble. ***** Theresa had no trouble finding the boys. She was short for a Klingon, but even most adult Radekian males were a little taller, so she slipped by relatively unnoticed. When she got inside and interrupted the boys, though, she was suddenly the center of attention. "Assassin!" someone cried, and many hands grabbed for her. "NO!" Siggy shot to his feet, eyes blazing. "Idiots! Don't you see? It's this kind of small thinking and stupid mistaken assumptions that have kept us down all these years! Now let her go!" The forward edge of the crowd stood aghast, the rest of the crowd straining to see what was going on. Biggy and Wiggy stood as well, to either side of Siggy and one step behind. They formed a pretty determined-looking fighting wedge. If Theresa weren't preoccupied with visions of burning at the stake, she would have been proud. "I said let her go," Siggy repeated. "She's with us." This caused a vast wave of murmurs, some questioning and some downright disbelieving. A few were almost angry, but the hands did release her. "Recovered, I see," Siggy sneered. "Yeah, we had some, um, medicine," she answered, glancing around. "I guess it wasn't as bad as I thought. What about you guys?" Siggy and Biggy exchanged a look, then both shrugged. "We're fine. It would have happened sooner or later; if not over you, then someone else. It's the way of men." This last word he said with a bit of pride. "Yeah, I get it," she nodded. "Where I come from, we'd say it's a guy thing. If I were a normal girl I'd be flattered, but... I was actually kinda pissed." They exchanged a look of disgust, which told her they were not up to speed on her colloquialisms. "It means angry," she clarified. "Nothing to do with actual urine." The boys looked both amused and relieved. "How is she one of you?" one of the pushier adults demanded. "What kind of trick is this? Do you now plan to conquer us further by beguiling our children?" "Beguiling?" Theresa scoffed. "I don't know if you noticed, but Klingons don't do subtle well." She looked back at the boys. "We're friends." Her statement was plain, but her eyes held a question. "Yes," Siggy looked over the crowd, then met her eyes with his. "Friends. It is our friend here who we were worried about. Our friend, who has taught us many things. Our friend, who with her compatriots, is sworn to protect us from unseen enemies." "Why fear the unseen, when we have an enemy we CAN see right on our doorstep?" "Is there a back door to this place?" Theresa leaned in and asked quietly. "They wouldn't dare do anything," Biggy snarled. "Oh, wouldn't they?" She glanced over her shoulder at the growing arguments behind her. "You know how dry wood only needs a spark to burn? Well, what about dry wood with lamp oil on it? Grownups can't handle being scared very well." "It pisses on them," Wiggy grinned. "Pisses them off, Wiggy," Theresa corrected, but didn't laugh. "Pissed off means angry? Then does pissed on mean happy?" "We can discuss golden showers another time, babe. Right now I'd like to-" The noise from the crowd escalated, and the sound of Klingons barking orders pierced through the babble. Siggy grabbed her by the arm and yanked her toward the back. Biggy deftly plucked up an altar cloth and draped it over her. Wiggy elbowed away anyone in their path as they took her back through the sacristy and out the back door. "That way," Siggy pointed to a path between the chapel and the rectory. "Through there and the yard beyond. No one will follow you." "Are you daft?!" Biggy had visibly paled. "That's The Mounds! It's haunted as-" "No time!" Siggy snapped. "Ghosts will show her more mercy than that mob OR the Klingons!" "Finally," Theresa smirked, pushing the altar cloth off her shoulders, "someone who understands my life." "Don't joke!" Wiggy wrung his hands nervously. "Just run!" She didn't really need to be told twice. ** Theresa glared up at Mogue, her "shadow". "Stop speaking tlhingan in front of them. It's rude." It was also a handy excuse, since she didn't have to admit she'd never learned the language beyond a few expletives and phrases. "In fact, let's leave them out of it entirely. Your job is to wrangle me, right? So get ta wranglin'. I mean you act like I have a choice. You're bigger than me, aren't you? A lot better armed, and probably better trained too." She looked over at the boys, then suddenly felt very cold. "Nuh-uh. Don't you even think it. Just go home, ok? I'll see you when I see you." Wiggy looked at Mogue nervously. The other two looked at him like they were still sizing him up. "Tell them they can go," Theresa spoke quietly to Mogue. She didn't command, but she didn't exactly ask. She just sounded... bored. Mogue might have bought it, too, if Wiggy's eyes didn't widen considerably. "Come on," she sighed. "Tell 'em. You wanna be at this all night?" ** It was decided that because of this incident (and near riot), Theresa would be given responsibility for the boys- who in turn were working off their "sentence" on the Klingon compound doing chores. Theresa was beyond angry- not with raDen or Mogue or the boys, but with herself. Time and time again, T`Laera had tried to explain it to her. But had she listened? No. "You're not like other people. You can't try to have a normal life. It won't work. You'll just end up endangering everyone around you." At the time T said these words, Theresa had thought T meant if people knew who and what she was. She thought it was only about history. Now she thought she understood what T really meant. It went far deeper than the past (though that was surely a part of it) or reputations (though that could certainly factor in). It went deep under the skin. It was in the blood. It was down to DNA. And now she had a brilliantly ghastly example of just how true those words had been. She tried to grab on to the last vestige of childhood. Just, you know, be a kid. Something she pretty much never really had. She didn't remember what it was like when she was a baby of course, but for as long as she could remember she had been responsible for things usually reserved for adults. She and her "sisters" had hunted for their own food and sought out their shelter from the time they could walk. The androids who rescued them from termination often remarked that they would at times forget they were speaking to children. And then Versailles. Running, hiding, killing,... There were REAL adults there who were driven stark-raving mad by what they saw in that place. She was different. And she was beginning to see that T meant not just from other people, but from the other clones too. After all, once they left the planet where they were "born", they all had different input and influences. Yes, they had all been curious about the progenitor, but they all had other separate interests they pursued. It was the point of divergence. Twyla had gone mad for fiction. Ondine delved into Earth history and rolled around in it. Fortuna and Fidella became enamored of combat- both historical and present day. And Theresa herself? Survival. Always she was thinking about where she was and where she would be, and how they would all survive. The android's dire warnings of assassins were not wasted on her. She never entered a room without checking for exits. T`Laera had also said Theresa was the one most like her- which did not bode well in the happiness and normalcy department. The current situation more than illustrated that. But she was determined of one thing. "I'm not fucking quitting," she grumbled, pacing her room. ***** x-- 100 Proof News - http://www.100ProofNews.com x-- 3,500+ Binary NewsGroups, and over 90,000 other groups x-- Access to over 1 Terabyte per Day - $8.95/Month x-- UNLIMITED DOWNLOAD NewMessage: