The Barrow-Downs Discussion Forum - View Single Post - WW LXXVII: The Metamorphs of Wolf-562-e

Nerwen · 06-10-2010, 11:23 AM

Sensor Technician Isabellkya had been unable to get the subspace communication system working. "Ma'am, it looks to me as if it's been deliberately tempered with– and by a real expert, at that."

"Well, you're an expert, aren't you, Technician?" Ensign Blind Guardian asked her. "Sure you didn't do it yourself?"

This was greeted with a few chuckles from surrounding members of the crew.

Surely, the captain reflected, Metamorphs would have taken it all a bit more seriously? But then, perhaps not. Metamorph humour, if there was such a thing, was as veiled in mystery as the rest of their culture.

"Ensign Guardian," she said coldly, "you will in future refrain from making a Rigellian tree-ape of yourself in front of the enlisted men. Technician Isabellkya, I want the subspace system functional by 0300 hours Galactic Time tomorrow, and in that time you will concentrate on your work and make no further wild statements about sabotage. The rest of you, go about your duties. Watching Technician Isabellkya perform routine maintenence is not a form of entertainment."

The captain turned on her heel and stalked out of the room. It had, she realised, probably been useless to expect the crew to believe nothing was seriously wrong. There was nothing routine about this– everyone knew subspace systems did not just break down without warning.

What gave her an even greater sense of futility was that she had made no progress whatever in finding the enemy. All of the crew were acting like their normal selves– just as the intelligence agent had predicted. According to the agent, Metamorphs had a specialised form of telepathy that let them absorb memories from those they killed, allowing them to pass undectected except by someone who had known the victim extremely well. And on this ship, the captain thought bitterly, that meant no-one at all, when so many of the Lothlórien's current crew were replacements for those killed in the disastrous Battle of Fomalhaut.

"There must be something," she muttered aloud. "There must be..."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Still Night One.

06-10-2010, 11:23 AM	#3
Nerwen Wisest of the Noldor Join Date: Oct 2007 Location: ˙˙˙ssɐןƃ ƃuıʞooן ǝɥʇ ɥƃnoɹɥʇ Posts: 6,694	Sensor Technician Isabellkya had been unable to get the subspace communication system working. "Ma'am, it looks to me as if it's been deliberately tempered with– and by a real expert, at that." "Well, you're an expert, aren't you, Technician?" Ensign Blind Guardian asked her. "Sure you didn't do it yourself?" This was greeted with a few chuckles from surrounding members of the crew. Surely, the captain reflected, Metamorphs would have taken it all a bit more seriously? But then, perhaps not. Metamorph humour, if there was such a thing, was as veiled in mystery as the rest of their culture. "Ensign Guardian," she said coldly, "you will in future refrain from making a Rigellian tree-ape of yourself in front of the enlisted men. Technician Isabellkya, I want the subspace system functional by 0300 hours Galactic Time tomorrow, and in that time you will concentrate on your work and make no further wild statements about sabotage. The rest of you, go about your duties. Watching Technician Isabellkya perform routine maintenence is not a form of entertainment." The captain turned on her heel and stalked out of the room. It had, she realised, probably been useless to expect the crew to believe nothing was seriously wrong. There was nothing routine about this– everyone knew subspace systems did not just break down without warning. What gave her an even greater sense of futility was that she had made no progress whatever in finding the enemy. All of the crew were acting like their normal selves– just as the intelligence agent had predicted. According to the agent, Metamorphs had a specialised form of telepathy that let them absorb memories from those they killed, allowing them to pass undectected except by someone who had known the victim extremely well. And on this ship, the captain thought bitterly, that meant no-one at all, when so many of the Lothlórien's current crew were replacements for those killed in the disastrous Battle of Fomalhaut. "There must be something," she muttered aloud. "There must* be..."* ~~~~~~~~~~* Still Night One. __________________ "Even Nerwen wasn't evil in the beginning." –Elmo.