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Date: 12 Dec 96 Jaz, you're a facking muse! Ah, sweet inspiration. Read on, ya bastards. It's a long one, but the battle is well fought.
-Sully Riker studied Captain Hic'ard's face. Even when he was teetering on the edge of raging intoxication, Hic'ard kept a calm demeanor, and rarely showed signs of being completely hammered. "A sign of inexperience," he would confide. Let the crew see that you were as drunk as they were, and it would be chaos. Let the enemy see that you were more drunk than they, and they would fly into a fierce rage. The strange Klingon Barship on the main viewer puzzled Riker. No records of this type of ship was available in any Barfleet record or known to anyone in the Klingon Council. Long range sensors had picked up the vessel and as duty calls, they had set a course to drink. [Hic'ard]: This is Captain Hic'ard of the Barship Everclear, please identify yourself. Worf's eyes scanned the computer's screen quickly, wanting feverishly to know if the strange vessel carried more alcohol than the Everclear and what kinds they had on board .
[Worf]: Captain, our scans
are somehow deflected from the ship's hull; we detect nothing. Whatever technology
they're using, we are unable to determine what they intend to serve. Before Hic'ard could finish, Data sharply turned his head.
[Data]: The Barship is definitely
Klingon by design, but doesn't resemble any model known. Hic'ard frowned and turned slowly to Riker.
[Hic'ard]: I wouldn't like
to assume, but my first guess is that the Klingons are testing out a new Barship
design. Throughout the Everclear, Red lights flashed as last-call sirens punctuated the smoky, stale filtered air. Every man, woman and child quickly downed emergency pints, taking an extra bottle for later. Corridors filled as crew members rushed to predetermined bar stools as every clean glass was filled in anticipation of the battle to come. [Hic'ard]: Bouncers to Maximum. Within seconds, the Everclear was protected by its own extremely powerful Bouncers.
[Worf]: We have been targeted
by Asshuffer Lock-On. The Everclear tilted alarmingly as something powerful crashed past the Bouncers.
[Riker]: What the hell was
that? The Everclear rocked violently as more shots smashed into the Bouncers. [Hic'ard]: Target their Soda Dispensers and fire Vodka Jell-O torpedoes as a warm up shot. Worf silently cursed the Captain's low-alcohol blood content. Why try to inebriate an enemy's ship, when it could be intoxicated? Humans were not true drinkers. The only good enemy is a drunk enemy. Worf pressed the correct sequence to mix the Jell-O nonetheless. From the Everclear, drinks were served, and sped with vicious speed through dark, cold space. The Klingon Barship sliced silently through the void, but could do nothing to avoid the Jell-O.
[Worf]: Direct hit on enemy
Dispensers, Captain. Their Bouncers held. Hic'ard coughed quietly and reprimanded Riker with a knowing look. Riker read the look as "Hold your liquor, we're ranking drunkards here." [Worf]: Our Bouncers have gone on break! It was Hic'ard's turn to look surprised, shocked and angry. [Hic'ard]: How can this be? Get those Bouncers back up front immediately, Mr. Worf! The lights dimmed to Happy Hour levels as the world around them turned upside down. Sparks danced crazily like a mirrored ball as the console lights flickered off. Data watched without emotion as his drunken companions were tossed like dwarfs in different directions. He remained in his seat as his superhuman-strength arms grasped the console. He watched as one crew member screamed as his drinking arm was severed by a falling barrel of Jim Beam. A woman lay against the elevators trying in vain to stem the flow of vomit from her stomach. Data needed no light to operate his console and luckily his console still had refrigeration . His fingers blurred as he understood the Everclear had taken a multiple straight double shots. Bright violent lights errupted from the Klingon Barship as more doubleshots were sent hellbent toward the spinning, unprotected Federation Barship. Data was unsure, but the shots appeared to bear a resemblance to concentrated Everclear. The sensors must be in error. Everclear was the most pure drink known. Concentrated Everclear was thought to be only theoretical. Hic'ard shook his head in an attempt to stave off the onset of a powerful hangover. Damn Klingon Distillation Technology! What the hell happened? Where was he? One minute he was patrolling the neutral border and then...and then what? Sudden realization came to him, his eyes flicked sharply and searchingly to the Big Screen viewer. Bearing down upon them was the Klingon Barship. What sort of vessel could do this to a Class A, State-Of-The-Art Federation Barship? Oh, my Ghod! It was pouring doubleshots again! He tried to stand as if lying on one's back was not the way a Captain should pass out. Data's electronic mind was not clouded by Fusel Hangover. It scanned the console readouts faster than any drunken human one-eye could. His fingers were a blur of movement as his primary objective was to save the Everclear's distillation nacelles, and insure that the crew had sufficient ethanol rations to perform necessary repairs. Worf heaved on the console that trapped him, nausea evident in his every move. Fear of terminal intoxication meant nothing to him. Drunkenness only made him want more drink. The console budged a few inches, but not enough to allow him to reach the emergency liquor bin. He knew he had a pint of Listerine stashed there. He felt practically sober, a feeling he had never encountered before. He was a Drunkard and at the party of his life. His Klingon blood coursed through his veins. The ship was in tatters and he needed to drink. Drink some thing....Drink anything... Riker looked about himself, not believing what he was seeing. The once-elegant Main Bar was a dark spinning mass of confusion. Brass foot rails were a maze of twisted tubing. The walnutburl Bartop was in splinters. Splinters of shattered crystalline pilsener glasses lay everywhere. Trying to work out which way was up was difficult enough. But several of the female officers were starting to look very attractive to him. Screaming to his left made him turn. He recoiled as a fellow officer held a severed drinking arm out to him, glass still firmly held in hand. Poor Bastard. Riker gasped in pain as he tried to move. He realized one of his legs was caught in something. He turned and nearly fainted when the white of his bone stuck gleam ing from his knee. Riker smiled. His leg was pinned under several cases of Single Malt Scotch. The Klingon's drinks shot through the uncaring and soundless space. The Everclear spun as small splashes of liquor spurted from it's shattered engine carafes. Empties spun and glittered from the abnormal burning hole in the once-contented gut of the hull. If it was possible, the ship would have screamed, not from the pain of hangover, but from the indignity of having fallen and being unable to reach its beer. Reaching for a beer was something that was never programmed into Data's still mysterious electronic mind. What took hours to any normal drunk took seconds as Data connected himself directly into the Barship's computer. Everything was in chaos, alcohol outages on every delivery line. Everything screamed error at him. Using a secondary circuit he uplinked to the main computer.... Nothing had escaped damage. If only he could get ops.... If Data knew how, he would have smiled. Finally, DrunkRat auto-opped Data. All primary controls were now routed to his console. Lights flashed boldly as the control of the Everclear came under his non-human hands. Bouncers were shoved into place milliseconds before the deadly Klingon doubleshots connected, nevertheless the Everclear groaned dangerously under the shock waves. Data negotiated the Bouncers with lightning frequency so the Klingon Barship, however they did it, couldn't convince them to walk off again. He locked the Barship weaponry onto the adversary.... Behind the Bar, Green Lizard phasers were loaded into tumblers and readied for usage. Laser banks searched, targeted and locked onto the enemy vessel. Data paused for a second and then pressed what the crew members nicknamed the Saarlac button. He had never used or seen the button command used before but he knew exactly what it did. To be Continued.... |