Path: newsspool2.news.atl.earthlink.net!stamper.news.atl.earthlink.net!elnk-atl-nf1!newsfeed.earthlink.net!border2.nntp.dca.giganews.com!border1.nntp.dca.giganews.com!nntp.giganews.com!newsread.com!newsstand.newsread.com!POSTED.newshog.newsread.com!not-for-mail Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative.erotica.moderated Approved: ascem@earthlink.net Organization: Better Living Thru TrekSmut Sender: ascem@earthlink.net Message-ID: From: "roctz" MIME-Version: 1.0 Mailing-List: list ASCEML@yahoogroups.com; contact ASCEML-owner@yahoogroups.com Subject: New:TOS "The Russian Always Screams Twice" 1/3, humor [PG-13] Content-Type: text/plain; charset=ISO-8859-1 Content-Transfer-Encoding: quoted-printable Lines: 384 Date: Tue, 28 Sep 2004 04:55:04 GMT NNTP-Posting-Host: 209.198.142.218 X-Complaints-To: Abuse Role , We Care X-Trace: newshog.newsread.com 1096347304 209.198.142.218 (Tue, 28 Sep 2004 00:55:04 EDT) NNTP-Posting-Date: Tue, 28 Sep 2004 00:55:04 EDT Xref: news.earthlink.net alt.startrek.creative.erotica.moderated:84864 X-Received-Date: Mon, 27 Sep 2004 21:55:08 PDT (newsspool2.news.atl.earthlink.net) Title: The Russian Always Screams Twice Authors: Jane Skazki, Arctapus, Ventura33 feedback@ventura33.com, Britta britta54@hotmail.com, Rocky roq@iname.com, Wildcat Wildcat7898@yahoo.com, Jungle Kitty, Laurel laurelstk@yahoo.com Series: TOS Rating: PG-13 Part: New 1/3 Codes: Humor, all TOS regulars, plus some guest appearances Date first posted: 9/27/04 Archive: ASC yes, all others please ask first Disclaimer: Star Trek and its characters don't belong to us, which is a pity because we have so much more fun with them. Summary: This ingenious story finds Detective Sulu constantly on the The Russian Always Screams Twice Part 1 (by Jane Skazki) It was a dark and stormy night, the kind of night that makes meek little tribbles wish they could grow teeth. I decided to stop by the Nexus All-Night Diner for a donut, a cup of joe, and a bit of flirting with Uhura. Harry Mudd was in the parking lot as usual. I waved him off, and made like I didn't see Janice standing under the diner's neon sign, wearing a fake Starfleet uniform that didn't even cover the gap between her nylons and her red panties. Inside, I sat down at my usual table by the door to the men's room and slid a five credit piece under the dirty plate the busboy was about to collect. "Later, Pavel," I said, like I always did. It was past midnight, and the diner was quiet. Nyota was polishing glasses behind the counter, but Sawbones' McCoy, the owner, threw a cigar butt at her ass to get her attention. "Get the deputy a donut and a cup of joe," he drawled. She glared at him, but by the time the coffee was slopping over into my saucer, she was all smiles. "You're working late, Deputy Sulu," she said. "Someone lifted a crate of D from the cargo pad down at City Hall," I said, "and vaporized two deputies and a data input clerk. There were three force fields with their own backup generators around that pad, but whoever did it walked straight in." I thought about some of the characters who'd been hanging around the scene of the crime when I arrived. "Or maybe slithered." "A crate of D... that's not something you can sell to a bunch of high school kids. Sounds like someone from off station," she said. "Someone bigtime." "We don't have a thing to go on," I said. Then I lowered my voice. "Is Jim here tonight? We need some help on this one." ***** Part 2 (by Arctapus) She sighed. I noticed. Her eyelashes fluttered just so, like butterflies alighting on milkweed. That led to impure thoughts and I had no time tonight to diddle. So I watched her mull over my request, considering whether to tell me or not. It bugged me just a little but then this whole thing did. Bugged me, that is. "He's out back." I started to rise. "But he's not alone." I sat. A frown formed on her smooth brow, the one that I wanted to touch for so long, that perfect blend of mocha and L'Oreal. "What?" "He won't like it. You coming here. After..." She let it hang there, like laundry on a clothesline.=20 "It can't be helped. I need him to look this one over." "He won't be up to it. You know... since that time..." She let it dangle there, twisting slowly in the wind of her rhetoric. I had a premonition that things were going to go from bad to worse but there was no other way. I had to do what I came here for. "I'm going back there." She shook her head then nodded slightly, her full red lips pursed just so. I felt it in my inseam, that old sensation pouring back into me like buttermilk. I quashed my thoughts, focusing on my footsteps as I walked past her, moving toward the back room. The door opened and Janice walked in, her cold gaze sizing me up, one professional to another. Go ahead, sister, I considered, moving past her, squeezing by as she stopped close to the counter. I could see down her jacket, the fabric straining to hold her in. She was hot and she was cold, a woman with a cash register for a heart. It had been that way since... I didn't continue the thought, pushing it back into the in basket of my brain, another piece of unfinished business for later. She smiled a cold smile, the 'warmth' never reaching her eyes and I continued on, the smell of the artificial hormones she wore as a 'business necessity' wreaking havoc with my libido. Such is the life of a lawman. The door was cracked partially and I could see a vague outline within. A man was kneeling and another was standing, the two of them working out something between them. I flashed on Chekov, the steamy image of that piece of steak tartare splayed out and ready to carve coming to me against my will. I pushed the door, the two men freezing into a tableau that I had seen too many times in the past. The taller one, a handsome man with a nice body sighed, shaking his head, a look of disdain forming on his perfect lips. "What the hell, Sulu? Why don't you knock?" The other, a disheveled drunk-looking hobo glanced up, his watery eyes blinking as if to focus. "What the--do you want, Sulu?" he asked, as if knowing I was there for him all along. "I need to talk to you, Jim," I said, watching as he lurched to his feet unsteadily. "Oh," I said, "you can let go of that." I pointed and Jim blinked, staring down at the salami in his hand. He handed it over and staggered toward me, pausing by the door. "I want mustard on mine," he said with a belch. Then he stepped out and past me, leaving the room to Fireman Bob who would have to make sandwiches for the two of them by himself. ***** Part 3 (by Ventura33) I told Nyota to bring some strong coffee to sober Jim up, although I suspected nothing short of a photon torpedo would penetrate his pickled brain. Couldn't be helped. Nyota was still scowling when she brought the coffee, although her shapely ass waggled ever so temptingly as she walked away, as if to let me know that she might just be willing to consider forgiving me later. It was a delicious thought indeed. Unfortunately, I had a crime to solve first, and a conversation with Jim that couldn't be avoided. I knew Jim still blamed me for what happened last time I was here, when I phasered a lowlife bimbo named Antonia who had been dealing quadro-triti-cocaine in the back alley. Although I hadn't wanted to do it, the dumb dame left me no other choice, waving around a Klingon disruptor in front of her chest like it was her latest boob job. Anyway, if I hadn't shot her, Harry Mudd's gang would have--they claim this side of town as their turf. Not my fault Jim has such lousy taste in women. Steam rose from the coffee cup as Jim stared morosely into it. "We were going to spend our golden years together, riding horses on a ranch in Idaho." His lower lip quivered. Pathetic, I thought. Even a crummy movie script couldn't come up with something this pathetic. Probably the best thing was just to pretend I hadn't heard a word of his pitiful tale. I bit into another donut that Nyota had thoughtfully provided, the powdered sugar falling to the countertop around my saucer like tasty drifts of virgin snow, and started to explain why I was here. "I'm working on a tough case, Jim. Someone found a way to get through the force fields around the cargo pad at City Hall, lifted a crate of D, and disappeared, leaving no sign that anyone had ever been there. Nothing but a few smears of organic paste where they blasted two deputies and a data input clerk, that is. There's nothing at all unusual in the computer logs. I need your help with this." Jim blinked, rubbed his eyes, and took a long gulp of the scorching coffee. Piercing hazel eyes then stared toward me with great interest from beneath his furrowed brow. Or maybe it was just an expression of pain from drinking hot coffee too fast. "Tell me more." ***** Part 4 (by Britta) "There's not much more to tell; there wasn't much left of the victims," I said. I dipped my donut into my coffee so I could watch the sugar float around. "The new station manager, Baris, is putting on heavy pressure to get this solved fast. That amount of D is worth a fortune, and he wants to look good. I was hoping you could help." He was interested, I could tell by the way his body language changed as he thought it over. Nyota topped off his cup with more steaming liquid clarity and I watched him subtly transform into the super-spy playboy I had always suspected him of being. He let out a deep sigh and straightened his spine. He looked at me hard, and in his glare I saw that he knew that I knew his position as a fry cook who waxed poetic about Federation-issue spatulas was only a cover. And it was a damned good one. I didn't know exactly what else he did but I knew he had contacts everywhere. Before he could speak, we were disturbed by a commotion. I turned around and spotted Kevin Riley, the town drunk. He had waylaid the new waitress just as she'd begun her shift, and was singing loudly as he tried to cop a feel. "Kathleen--" "I told you, my name's Christine!" she said as she tried to evade his imitation of an octopus. He obviously thought the way to Eden was up her skirt by the way he was dancing her around. She twisted in his grip then dropped a coffeepot on his foot, and he let go of her just as Bones McCoy came surging out of his office shouting about getting his shotgun. Just what I needed, a guy who was hot under the collar brandishing a heater. I wondered which deity had it in for me that night. Kirk and I watched as McCoy threw Riley out. Our tension level dropped, and while everyone else was still focused on the drama by the front door, he murmured, "Janice tells me things, you know. She's not one of Mudd's women." I mentally flinched at his mention of Rand. She was a sole proprietor in a world of corporations. He continued quietly, "She was with Cyrano Jones earlier tonight." Damn, that meant I'd have to talk to her. I dreaded it. After once overhearing her refer to me as a 'minute man', which I'd thought had something to do with the station's militia until Scotty set me straight, I tended to avoid her if at all possible. She didn't know that I had learned how to stretch time so to speak, and I had no intention of showing her. However, Cyrano Jones was an information broker notorious for wanting his own piece of the action, whatever action it might be, and he just might have some new information--for sale, of course. I stirred the sludge in the bottom of my coffee cup and replied, "I'll buy her a sandwich. She has to eat sometime." With a spark of speculation in his gaze, Kirk said, "I'll pick Spock's brain in the morning." "Spock?" I asked. The name was familiar but I couldn't place it right away. "He's an investment banker who stops in for breakfast every day on his way to work. He might know who would have liquid assets of the magnitude needed to acquire that much D." We rose from our seats, the conversation over. "Thanks, Jim." He nodded and we went our separate ways. ***** Part 5 (by Rocky) I was halfway across the parking lot to my flitter when it hit me: I remembered who Spock was, all right. The bit about the 'investment banker' had thrown me; the guy I remembered was an arrogant, cold-blooded little prig, who'd used his daddy's connections to get his position. It may have been the first time the ambassador, one of those high-profile politicians who seemed to get his name in the papers at the drop of a hat, stepped in to help out his boy, but it certainly wasn't the last. I remembered hearing rumors a few years ago: about how Spock, jilted at the altar by his equally stuck-up (and probably frigid) fianc=E9e, had gone absolutely apeshit and tried to murder his best friend. The whole thing was hushed up like you wouldn't believe, but I've got my sources. I was surprised Jim was even on speaking terms with the guy afterward, but he's always been too soft-hearted for his own good. I was even more surprised ol' Bones let Spock in his diner, but I suppose a little latinum goes a long way toward forgiveness. What I didn't understand was why Jim insisted on bringing Spock into all this. Like most Vulcans, he was as logical as all get out, but that didn't always translate into common sense. And like I said, he was just too cold-blooded for my taste. I'd seen him in the diner, now that I thought about it, on more than one occasion. That new dizzy blonde waitress, Christine, seemed awfully taken with him. He used to act like she wasn't even there, most of the time; the rest, he treated her worse than sehlat crap on the sole of his boot. But she just ate it up, kept coming back for more. Some dames just have no self-respect. I couldn't imagine Uhura ever acting like that. Then again, no man in his right mind would ever dream of ignoring HER. I expected to find Kyle dozing in the flitter, like he'd been when I left him. I thrust the sack of donuts at him and was surprised to see his eyes were already open. That should have been my first clue something was wrong. The second was he didn't immediately start stuffing the Nexus Patented Super Saturated Fat Specials in his face. "What's up, Kyle? You been replaced by your evil twin again?" Kyle didn't even grin. His eyes shifted around nervously like a tribble on a sugar high. "We've got problems, boss." "Problems?" I snapped. "You think a case of D gone missing isn't enough?" Kyle jerked his head toward the comm unit in the console. "HQ called. Harriman wants to speak to you right away." I'd thought my evening couldn't possibly get any worse, but now my mood plummeted like a shuttle locked in a decaying orbit. "That so?" I demanded, fumbling around for my tri-cigarettes. I'd quit the previous week (for the thirteenth time), but some things are just too much to take without any outside assistance. Harriman was one of them. The 'Loo', as he was called (ever since someone walked into the john to take a leak and caught him in a red thong and tasseled pasties), had taken command of the precinct about eight months ago. Under highly suspicious circumstances. Jim wouldn't talk about it, wouldn't say one damn word, but it was an open secret that he'd walked away from the job, leaving this lowlife, who wasn't even fit to wipe his boots, to step into the center seat. Rumors said the higher-ups were behind the move, that they'd made Kirk step down, but I didn't believe it. Nobody ever made Jim Kirk do anything he didn't want to, and they sure as hell weren't going to start now. Getting back to Harriman, he was a mean son of a bitch, jealous of anyone who showed a glimmer of ability greater than his, and believe me that was just about anyone. "If Harriman wanted to talk to me," I said now, "why didn't he just comm me directly?" Kyle shrugged and struggled to swallow. I knew he couldn't resist those donuts for long. "I asked him the same thing, but he said he didn't want to comm you while you were in there." Kyle jerked a sticky thumb in the direction of the brightly lit diner. Typical Harriman. He really gets off on this cloak-and-dagger stuff, even if he is a rank amateur. I looked back at the diner, and noted absently that Janice wasn't anywhere to be seen. Maybe she was off doing some business or maybe she had gotten cold. I did see Christine, standing by the side of the door, obviously on break, exhaling a thin plume of smoke. She caught me looking, glared, and vanished from sight. I turned back to Kyle. "Might as well get it over with." Kyle obligingly punched in the code for me. "Sulu," I said, when Harriman's mug appeared on the cracked monitor. "About time you checked in," Harriman grumbled. "We don't pay you to sit around flirting with waitresses, you know. What you do on your own time is your business, but we've got a situation." I felt, as so often when dealing with the guy, like punching his face in. (That was how the flitter monitor had gotten cracked on a previous occasion, if you want to know the truth. Though Scotty kept promising to replace it when he'd get around to it). But I kept my cool, and said, "What do you think I was doing?" You dumb wart, I added to myself. "I was tracking down some leads." Harriman looked skeptical. I decided to rub it in. "Talked to Jim Kirk; he's agreed to help." I was disappointed when Harriman didn't react. Normally just saying Jim's name guaranteed him going off like a Klingon in full berserker-mode. But now, nothing. Not even a twitch. Kyle stared as well, a chunk of jelly donut suspended halfway to his mouth. Harriman just shook his head and looked numb. More numb than usual, that is. "What's this situation?" I said, a cold shiver starting to work its way up my spine. "What's going on, Harriman?" Harriman cleared his throat. "We've found a body. In HQ itself. Sulu, it's not a pretty sight." I had a bad feeling about this. "Who?" Before Harriman could answer, I heard a high-pitched scream. And it was coming from the back seat of my flitter. To be continued... ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ ASCEM messages are copied to a mailing list. Most recent messages can be found at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ASCEML. NewMessage: