18.8.21

Trek BBS 4

Trek BBS: July/August 2021 Challenge
"Lies! All Lies!: I Ain't Callin' You a Truther"

The Prometheus-class U.S.S. Phoenix-X drifted listlessly until coming into a face-to-face alignment with the Cardassian Galor-class Roltekk.

"This is your last chance, Phoenix-X!" clamored Krane from the viewscreen. "Surrender your ship or suffer the consequences of Cardassian might!"

Commander Seifer took the center of the Bridge. "Your reign of terror ends here, Krane. We'll do whatever we can to terminate such madness and general all-around craziness, if that's what's going on, medically." And then, realizing, "You know what? I'm being insensitive. Let's start over."

"Uh, sir," Tactical officer Armond raised a confused hand. "What terror? Who is that?"

Seifer turned to him. "Didn't you do the briefing on the renegade-Roltekk's mission to occupy outlying Bajoran colonies?"

"Yeah, none of us did that due to the Klingon Grok'Moga ritual we were compounding for Lieutenant Commander Red," Operations officer Kayl deadpanned. "Just a room made of active pain-sticks from all angles."

Klingon Exchange Officer Red turned from the Helm. "Thank you all for participating. As requested, I have submitted a query to the Empire for them to explain to us what we all just did."

"Uggh. So, everyone just lied about staff meeting attendance?" Seifer struggled.

Ensign Dan offered, "We didn't lie. We just omitted certain details."

"You're relieved!" the Commander snapped.

Krane interrupted. "What is this about 'occupying' colonies? Admittedly, that sounds enticing, but those worlds are chock-full of Bajoran-hijacked Miranda-class refits."

"You're not even supposed to have refits!" Seifer began. "The Cardassian military was disbanded due to the Dominion-annihilating of half your resources?"

The other man slammed his fist into the arm of his chair. "Well, I kept mine and ran away! It's a pirate's life for me! Yo, ho, ho and a bottle of kanar! The only Cardassian thing you know of us!" He then reset. "Anyway, what about you? Our Intel states you plan on picking off all ex-military, one by one?"

"Picking out, in point of fact," corrected Seifer. "In addition to overall aid, we're picking out new suits for all of you, per Garak's suggestion that a new look might make everyone feel better." He lifted his gaze. "That was supposed to be a surprise."

Krane stood in outrage. "Well, I would love a new suit! I would look very dashing!" And then, "This means only one thing: My Intel is full of lies, much like Alexander Rozhenko and his claims of a complete lizard model collection." Everyone watched as he tapped at a nearby console, calling up his contact. The screen split on both ships to include the new guy. "You will tell me what is up with your 'whole thing' or I will speak in that sly, sneaky, annoying Cardassian vocal tone all over your speakers!"

"Ew, no! You know how I hate that," the squiggly human with a mustache and pirate hat shuddered. "Alright, fine. If you must know, I lured you both into the same space because I require you in drawing out a local threat."

Seifer was taken aback, unimpressed. "Lured us?" He then called his own Starfleet Intelligence, and the screen split a third way, but just duplicated the other man's transmission.

"The name's Horace," the human continued on now two feeds. "Horace T. Mudd. I planked and walked your Intelligence frequencies to feed you both false information, which I do apologize for, in-so that we may come together to stop the Android uprising against all organic-kind."

The Commander pinched his nose in frustration. "Aren't you a lie-splurging, Mudd-descendant, rip-off swindler, convicted of accidentally releasing power-cable-consuming vermin on Deep Space 9 which was oddly Memory-Alpha-archived as an obscure comic book?"

"And I would've gotten away with it too if it weren't for that meddling smarty-pants crew!" he snapped before re-composing himself. "I mean, your science-obsessed brain-hogging isn't annoying. But, more importantly, such an understanding means that if we can dismantle these sentient robots, we can sell their parts on Freecloud, three-way-split."

Seifer pointed a casual gun-finger. "There it is. Your true, non-fib motivation."

"I'm in!" Krane popped, excitedly before reading the Commander's deadpan reaction. "Well, it's not like I'm rolling in the leks since the disband. I do have a few quatloos, though. Used them in a bet once."

The Commander sighed before initiating mandatory air-quotes. "No. These 'metal men' are to be investigated by the Federation, and likely dismantled in accordance with the ban. Because who could prove that an Android is sentient? Who would ever take the time for such a stimulating and engaging court room spectacle?"

"Uh, Judge Advocate General Phillipa Louvois?" Armond pointed out.

Seifer waved it off. "Clearly that was stricken from the records, because I've been told to stop remembering that."

"Well, helllooooooo!" came the Robin Williams-like hail from an Android after three Miranda-class refit starships decloaked in front of the Phoenix-X and Roltekk. The viewscreen spliced in three more feeds with identical Horace Mudds. "We are the Horace Mudd Androids, and are here for your hull components and delicious isolinear chips!"

Krane did a double take. "Wait. What? You lied to us, Mudd!"

"I omitted certain truths of me trying to make decoy copies of myself and them back-firing with their insurgency," the human Horace Mudd explained. "Only because the copy-thing had been done before by my 1-inch-shorter-version grandfather. Their motivations of metallic supremacy notwithstanding."

Seifer gritted his teeth. "Dammit, Mudd! Is there anything original about you at all, or are you a 100% ancestral rip-off??"

"Don't listen to the terrible Section 31-hoarding Federation," Krane argued. "You have to emulate others as a starting point before going off into your own thing. It's the fake-it-til-you-make-it template. Like, seven of us are a Gul Dukat gyp, who himself was a Gul Macet clone."

The human Horace furrowed his brow in protest. "No, Commander Seifer is right. I've amounted to nothing new, haven't I? Escaping the Klingons, the Federation, Bajor and even a separate colony of next generation Soong-like Androids with twins that has nothing to do with these Androids and it's just a coincidence."

"Am I just a rip-off Will Decker?" Seifer looked at his own hands.

The other Horace Mudd Androids flinched at the human Horace Mudd slamming his fists into his console. "We're all a something! I'm going to self-destruct all the me's as a transformative display of personal arcs! That metamorphosis being I'll take over what's left of Cardassia! Hahaha!"

"You're lying again and just stalling so you can clean up your evidence, aren't you?" Seifer straight-faced. 

Horace up-rooted a triumphant finger before all the Miranda-class refit ships began to explode. "I'm staying ambiguous to cast doubt and awe upon my future." His double-feed clicked off.

"So, is that guy a thing now, or just a one-off?" Krane said, confused as all the Horace screens disconnected and both the Roltekk and the Phoenix-X moved out of the explosions range.

Seifer shrugged. "It's likely that obscurity is his new character trait."

"Great!" Krane sarcasted. "Now I have to prepare or don't-prepare for this new insanity that may or may not come. Uggh. This is all your fault, Phoenix-X. Not knowing things is far more annoying than explaining the Cardassian neck trick!"

The crew watched the screen blink out to the exterior view of the Roltekk jumping to warp. "Well, we definitely don't ever want to be an undefined grey mush of uncertainty," Armond suggested. "Sorry about not taking the briefing earlier, despite the content being false and a would-be waste of our time."

"No, I get it," Seifer reassured. "We've all been together for so long, protocol shadows in and out and spewing-informality bleeds over service. We all lie. Whether it's to protect someone's feelings or slow your peers to get away, falsifying data is the slick, new cloaking field of the conversational world."

Kayl hesitated. "But shouldn't the lesson be to do the opposite of that?"

"Pfft! Lessons are so Enterprise-D," Seifer accentuated as he made his way off the Bridge, into the turbolift. "But, in the spirit of revealing fraudulence, you should know I shortened my shift by 15 minutes for a Fantasy Football thing and not a Gamesters of Triskelion thing." 

After he was gone, Red's console indicated a communication from the Klingon Empire, diverting everyone's attention. "Ah! Here we go. They say the Grok'Moga is a ritual to celebrate treachery. Seems a bit off-brand. Clearly, we will celebrate anything now."

No comments:

Post a Comment