Post by Lt. Commander Liz Sur'Shess on Dec 9, 2013 16:13:11 GMT -8
The planet had seemed distinctly tasteless after awhile, turning into one big smear of colors and loud voices, all of them trying to sell her something or welcome her to the planet or ask her if she wanted to have paint smeared all over her body by some pattern she couldn't begin to figure out. After the third time somebody tried to waylay her, a handful of paint ready to be smeared on her, Liz had given up and headed to the nearest transport site. She'd said not a word to the officer on duty, though he'd snapped to attention so fast when he saw who it was, she was pretty sure he'd given himself whiplash. Hopefully he'd relax when he realized she wasn't going to come back and harangue him about the lack of polish in his shoes or something.
She made her way without even thinking to her quarters, but did an immediate about-face when she saw the mek'leth on the floor and generally messy state of her quarters. She had no desire to deal with that, not right now, not to face the thoughts that she'd managed to almost push away, the discomforting memories and recriminations and endless rehashing of what she should have done but hadn't. No matter how many times she envisioned the bridge on various days, saw herself doing one thing and wished herself to do another, it never worked. The world remained stubbornly the same, and she was giving up hope of wishing a Q into existence who would snap the galaxy back to rights.
Doing an about-face, she headed back out, going she knew-not-where. The thought of reports, waiting on her metaphorical desk to be signed and cleared, came to mind, but that would hardly help her mood. Besides, reports weren't her favorite thing. So she found her steps heading for the holodeck, and finding them empty, she stepped into one and stared up at the framework for a moment before going to the computer terminal and selecting a program.
With a barely-heard fizz of holo projectors settling into place, a new world materialized around her, the terminal and the door disappearing into an unremarkable landscape of scrub brush and reddish shale cliffs that closed her in, funneling her into a narrow space that experience told her would likely lead back to the wider, arena-like flatland. But for now, it didn't only box her in; it was going to bring whatever prey the computer had chosen to set up for her into her path.
Or perhaps not so much prey as another hunter, out for blood regardless of whose it was. She heard the tramp of heavy feet--Klingon feet, or perhaps the feet of one of the many made-up, mythical monsters that were still half-imagined in places like these. "Computer, mek'leth," Liz said, trusting it to know what she wanted according to her former specifications, and sure enough, she snatched up a perfectly-balanced weapon from the sand and stepped to the center of the path, holding herself in a battle-ready stance.
A lone warrior came around the bend, stepping with careless confidence down the rocks that led from the hills. They were dressed in bastardized Klingon armor, bits taken from real weaponry and bits from something other, nightmares and myths. The challenge he boomed was in Klingon, though--Liz was sometimes taken by surprise when the universal translator didn't work, but whoever had designed these programs had really gotten into the whole 'narrative realism' thing, apparently--and Liz answered in the same language, challenge and counter-challenge filling the air between them.
They rushed her first, bat'leth, curved at an odd angle, coming up. Liz dodged to the side, speed making up for their disparate height and weight, and she hit them hard against the back of their neck that almost sent them tumbling. They compensated, though, coming around to face off once more. Liz settled into a half-crouch from which she could go several ways, and the two slowly circled one another, a careful four feet apart, as they sized each other up once more. They were weak on their left side, and this realization came to Liz about the same time they figured out the same thing about her. At least, the two of them jumped together at about the same time, weapons whirling. Liz ducked underneath them, rolling into their knees and bringing her mek'leth up as he fell, pushing away between their legs as they fell into it.
Her opponent crashed to the ground, and the only sound was the distant thrum of the engines, the ship alive underneath her, and the beat of her own heart, the simulated creature's dying breaths gasping fast...and then it disappeared with another barely-sensed hiss of holo technology. "Mute," Liz said, distracted, before the computer could offer its score, or its pronouncement of what level creature she'd fought, or whatever else it might have wanted to interject with. "Pause program," she added.
The world around her stopped, caught in a microsecond. A simulated gust of wind, frozen in time, rustled against the branches of the scrub bushes, and the sand under her hands still gave, just a bit, her fingers drawing idle patterns. She could have stayed on the planet and done just this; gone to some beach or something, sat around and watched the surf. Then again, she could feel the rush of adrenaline, still pumping, and the way her blood heated with the thrill of the fight, and she wouldn't have gotten that on the planet. Besides, this simulated sky was less condemning with its weight, somehow, than the Pelebian one had been; there was nothing demanded by it, no protestation that she should be breathing fresh air and enjoying her life because she was alive or some such nonsense.
No, this sky wanted nothing of her, because it was her own creation, an extension of her will, and she couldn't be constrained by it. Abruptly, she rolled to her feet, nudging a toe under the mek'leth and heading down the narrow ravine for the open flatlands, unpausing the program on her way. If memory hadn't failed her, there were more interesting challenges below.
Tag: Any
She made her way without even thinking to her quarters, but did an immediate about-face when she saw the mek'leth on the floor and generally messy state of her quarters. She had no desire to deal with that, not right now, not to face the thoughts that she'd managed to almost push away, the discomforting memories and recriminations and endless rehashing of what she should have done but hadn't. No matter how many times she envisioned the bridge on various days, saw herself doing one thing and wished herself to do another, it never worked. The world remained stubbornly the same, and she was giving up hope of wishing a Q into existence who would snap the galaxy back to rights.
Doing an about-face, she headed back out, going she knew-not-where. The thought of reports, waiting on her metaphorical desk to be signed and cleared, came to mind, but that would hardly help her mood. Besides, reports weren't her favorite thing. So she found her steps heading for the holodeck, and finding them empty, she stepped into one and stared up at the framework for a moment before going to the computer terminal and selecting a program.
With a barely-heard fizz of holo projectors settling into place, a new world materialized around her, the terminal and the door disappearing into an unremarkable landscape of scrub brush and reddish shale cliffs that closed her in, funneling her into a narrow space that experience told her would likely lead back to the wider, arena-like flatland. But for now, it didn't only box her in; it was going to bring whatever prey the computer had chosen to set up for her into her path.
Or perhaps not so much prey as another hunter, out for blood regardless of whose it was. She heard the tramp of heavy feet--Klingon feet, or perhaps the feet of one of the many made-up, mythical monsters that were still half-imagined in places like these. "Computer, mek'leth," Liz said, trusting it to know what she wanted according to her former specifications, and sure enough, she snatched up a perfectly-balanced weapon from the sand and stepped to the center of the path, holding herself in a battle-ready stance.
A lone warrior came around the bend, stepping with careless confidence down the rocks that led from the hills. They were dressed in bastardized Klingon armor, bits taken from real weaponry and bits from something other, nightmares and myths. The challenge he boomed was in Klingon, though--Liz was sometimes taken by surprise when the universal translator didn't work, but whoever had designed these programs had really gotten into the whole 'narrative realism' thing, apparently--and Liz answered in the same language, challenge and counter-challenge filling the air between them.
They rushed her first, bat'leth, curved at an odd angle, coming up. Liz dodged to the side, speed making up for their disparate height and weight, and she hit them hard against the back of their neck that almost sent them tumbling. They compensated, though, coming around to face off once more. Liz settled into a half-crouch from which she could go several ways, and the two slowly circled one another, a careful four feet apart, as they sized each other up once more. They were weak on their left side, and this realization came to Liz about the same time they figured out the same thing about her. At least, the two of them jumped together at about the same time, weapons whirling. Liz ducked underneath them, rolling into their knees and bringing her mek'leth up as he fell, pushing away between their legs as they fell into it.
Her opponent crashed to the ground, and the only sound was the distant thrum of the engines, the ship alive underneath her, and the beat of her own heart, the simulated creature's dying breaths gasping fast...and then it disappeared with another barely-sensed hiss of holo technology. "Mute," Liz said, distracted, before the computer could offer its score, or its pronouncement of what level creature she'd fought, or whatever else it might have wanted to interject with. "Pause program," she added.
The world around her stopped, caught in a microsecond. A simulated gust of wind, frozen in time, rustled against the branches of the scrub bushes, and the sand under her hands still gave, just a bit, her fingers drawing idle patterns. She could have stayed on the planet and done just this; gone to some beach or something, sat around and watched the surf. Then again, she could feel the rush of adrenaline, still pumping, and the way her blood heated with the thrill of the fight, and she wouldn't have gotten that on the planet. Besides, this simulated sky was less condemning with its weight, somehow, than the Pelebian one had been; there was nothing demanded by it, no protestation that she should be breathing fresh air and enjoying her life because she was alive or some such nonsense.
No, this sky wanted nothing of her, because it was her own creation, an extension of her will, and she couldn't be constrained by it. Abruptly, she rolled to her feet, nudging a toe under the mek'leth and heading down the narrow ravine for the open flatlands, unpausing the program on her way. If memory hadn't failed her, there were more interesting challenges below.
Tag: Any