Catch you on the flip side!!

B'Elanna

We have GOT to get OUT of here and NOW!! But . . . . we cannot beam everyone here and outside (if I'm right) by OUR magical/science teleporter . . . .

We do a quick (and nasty) introduction of ourselves and appoligize (but it is not much of one) for "sneaking up on them" after silently "beaming in" around the corner out of sight.

Picky and jumpy people, some of these Redshirts. Might have something to do with the high turnover rate?

. . .

We, not standing on proper protocol, say as much first towards the Redshirt (drawing disbelieving snorts of laughter from the girls dressed up as 20th century students or some such, must find out what their stories are here when I'm not frightened so much!!) we then relay the same message to none other than Commodore Decker himself (did a good selling job to the Redshirts who seemed to have beamed down first).

Thankfully, not everyone from the Constellation has beamed down to this death trap yet. Know not why we have this one mockup building on this barren planet (Oh, we had all left the building to go outside for this next part). Good, considering that the blasted transporters would be knocked out if reality followed the TV script from the Star Trek episode.

What wins a rather taken aback (and doubting of strangers who appear out of the blue) are the technical suggestions made by me and the Doctor to cut through the sensor static the Planet Killer (who's now on it's way back to BDZ--planet kill for those not in the know--this place). They see it coming now and Decker, with my sharp elfin ears, I hear swearing softly to himself in shock.

He realized what mistake he'd almost done, failing life support or not. The ship, as wreck as it is right now, is still MUCH safer than down HERE.

Still, that ship up there cannot outrun the Destroyer so it must outfight it. Inquirer, being the most military minded (besides my husband but it's Inquirer's turn) makes the strategic suggestions of how to best kill the machine. In this case where phasors cannot penetrate the neutronium hull of the Destroyer, a variation of what killed the beast in the TV show is suggested.

Torpedo tubes up there on the ship still work, so it is said that if a photon torpedo of sufficient yeild (one of the more ship busting ones in stock up there) goes down it's throat and detonates . . . it would be game over for the beast.

The destroyer is coming and damnit we just were told by Decker that the interference is going to prevent a safe beamup, so . . .

We're stuck here with the small contingent of frantic looking Redshirts and young women who are wondering what they'd landed into here.

"Understood," Inquirer says after a pause. "WE have our own means of transporting and can get ourselves and your guys to safety. Contact us after the battle at these subspace coordinates and frequencies. Creator speed and good luck! OUT!!"

"Catch you on the flipside," Inquirer mutters to herself as we beam out us and the others without so much as a 'by your leave!'

If nothing else we know that those last coordinates of Dr. Vincent's teleporter were NOT our wanted destination by FAR. Now we need to figure out just WHAT to do . . . after we explain to our disoriented (and now angry) guests who'd come along...

1. Looks like a tough audience....

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