Sensing that the entities it had been sent to observe had settled down, the entity emerged from its hiding place. It had been months since the entity had last made its presence known amongst the inhabitants of this foreign outpost.
It was quiet. Most of the inhabitants of the outpost would still be in their hibernation phase, the entity knew. It could emerge from the odd statue it had inhabited and move toward a place where it could observe more freely. But where?
It crept along the floor toward a planter where juvenile inhabitants frequently waited in the mornings for their daily ritual. Crawling in amongst the roots of the plants, it waited.
Hours passed. Soon, children began arriving for school. The smelly jelly sensed one with an extremely high esper rating and crawled into her book bag unnoticed. But it was not unnoticed.
As soon as the jelly entered the bag, Tiyanna discovered it. "Hello there!" she said in surprise as she opened her bag. The jelly cowered away from her, fearful now that it had been discovered. "Don't be afraid. I'll keep you safe!" she said quietly as she closed her bag and answered her teacher's summons.
As Tiyanna settled into her seat next to her friend Rachel Ashton, she readied herself for class. Everything was so easy and repetitive that her teacher Miss Aryia Neelle gave her more difficult work without alerting the other students. There was a period of the school day she spent time with just Tiyanna going over what her work was.
Today, as Miss Neelle began walking through the classroom having the children pull out their PADDs and start reading from their most recent 1st grade book, Tiyanna got the sense her new found friend was getting curious. She peered down and saw that as her teacher was walking by, the smelly jelly reached out like a large green hand and under her teacher's skirt.
~No! Don't!~ she thought, but it didn't stop the hand. Suddenly a startled shriek was heard issuing from her teacher as the green smelly jelly hand instantly vanished back into her school bag. Tiyanna inwardly groaned as her teacher looked around as all the children looked at her with wide curious eyes and then started giggling.
Two maintenance crewmen stopped for their breakfast break at MacDonnell's. The porridge had proven to be one of the Scottish restaurant's biggest sellers, and breakfast was their busiest shift.
"Strange about that residue we found here," Bob said.
"Yeah--right around the clown! Always funny how something's always happening to that damn clown! Know what I mean, Bob?"
"Yep. That reminds me," Bob said again as he got up from the table and went to the entrance. He pushed on the clown, which slid out of place easily. For the past several months it had been glued to the deck, absolutely immobile.
"Oh, that thing the Admiral was talking about?"
"You got it!" Bob tapped his combadge. "Crewman Sandusky to Admiral Wallace--all systems are go!"
[Acknowledged. Wait until after the restaurant closes, then deliver the package to me. Be discreet.]
An hour later as Tiyanna was listening to her teacher begin another lesson, she watched for a moment as Miss Neelle walked down the aisle over. Suddenly, she heard her teacher shreik again. It was the same shreil followed by a question of who or what had done that. The kids all stared blankly at her, but at her confusion they all started giggling They just couldn't help themselves. Tiyanna, her face growning a bit pale, looked into her school bag and noticed her new friends gone. As she turned her head to the back of the classroom, just out of the teacher's view, the smelly jelly was being beckoned into David Marrall's bag. Some of the children watched with fascination and smiled.
Tiyanna bent her head down in defeat and knew that this was going to be a long school day.
Paul had finished the night shift on the Command Deck. It had not been an easy night, with four tramp freighters with refugees arriving from the former Nausicaan Confederation in the space of an hour, and a pirate vessel masquerading as a refugee flight. There had been some tensemoments as the pirate tried to hold one of the legitimate refugee ships hostage. Fortunately the Hammerheads had bounced the pirate before it could fire on the refugees, but those ninety minutes had supplied enough tension for a week. He needed a drink.
Returning to his quarters, he ordered from the replicator. "Bourbon, on ze rocks," Paul requested.
In the dispenser slot appeared a bone china teacup. Paul looked at the contents.
"Computer, identify," he ordered.
<Tea, Earl Grey, hot.>
"Zhat eez not what Ah requested!" Paul snapped. "Bourbon, on ze rocks!"
Another cup of hot tea appeared.
"Okay, bourbon straight up!"
Another cup of hot tea.
"Hot chocolate."
A mug of hot chocolate-with marshmallows-appeared. Paul was puzzled as he took the beverage.
"Beer. Dortmunder dark," Paul ordered.
The tea appeared again.
"Computer, display replicator protocol for zhis machine," Paul said. He went to his screen. The code appeared normal. What he didn't know was that the replicator protocol for the entire station had been programmed to specifically forbid alcohol ordered in his voice.
Paul sighed. He'd get something somehow! He headed to Soma.
"I'm certain the Colonel would agree to an interview," Admiral Wallace told Federation News Network anchor Don Saumelson. "We've all been wanting to get the true nature of the situation out here in the Briar Patch to a larger audience. I don't think the general public back in the Federation proper appreciates the precariousness of our position."
"And Colonel Tarik is the best person to present this situation to the public?" Samuelson asked.
"Absolutely," Wallace said without hesitation. It was time Tarik learned to deal with the press on his own, and besides, Wallace hated dealing with reporters. "However, if you could do a favor for me before you go live, I'd appreciate it." Wallace explained what he had in mind.
Samuelson smiled. "Not exactly network protocol, but then again what the suits don't know won't fool them."
"Absolutely true," Wallace said. This was the perfect opportunity for payback.
Ryan and Jake finished their patrol flight. It had been pretty eventful, giving Jake his first kill with the Hammerheads as they destroyed a Nausicaan pirate vessel attempting to extort 'protection fees' from a refugee convoy.
Bastards, he thought. Then again, how many times have humans done that to one another? Coming from a past that he'd found was just as tragic as the one that preceded the world he lived in now, Ryan was a bit closer to the unsanitized truth of humanity's history. He stifled the urge to laugh (or vomit) every time someone told him how 'enlightened' humanity had become. From what he'd seen, there was still plenty of suffering and exploitation to go around.
"Okay, Surfer, time to take this one back to the barn," Ryan said, using Jake McIlhenny's callsign.
[Roger, Cowboy. Drinks at the Gunslinger on me!]
"Sounds like a plan!"
They ran the post-flight checks on their new Yellowjacket fighters (an infinite improvement over the old Hammerheads they'd flown untilrecently) and wrote their after-action report. A quick shower and change into civilian clothing, and they were at the station's Western-themed bar.
Ryan and Jake arrived to find the bar in an uproar. A Klingon heavy-metal band was being booed off the stage as they attempted their show. "What happened to the Pony Express?" Ryan asked the barmaid. The Pony Express was the New Canada-based country and western band slated to play at the Gunslinger that night.
"We don't know-these guys claim they were booked here! Usually they play Soma. But try telling that to a Klingon!"
Moments later, the Pony Express-a quartet of human men and women in Ancient Western attire-arrived, rather upset. "What the hell are these guys doing here?" the lead singer asked angrily. "And why were we booked at the Kolinahr school?"
"This is our rightful show date," the lead Klingon musician bellowed. "Do you dare to insult our honor by insisting we are in error?"
"What honor?" one of the female vocalists snapped. Then the fight ensued.
"Maybe we should check Soma instead," Ryan said. Jake nodded as they left the Gunslinger just ahead of a bottle of redeye being thrown against the wall directly between them.
They arrived at Soma to hear the most insane wailing noise either of them had heard in quite a while. Paul Deveraux was there, grateful to finally get something harder than hot tea into his system. Ryan and Jake piled in beside him.
"Zhat was good work you two did zhis past watch!" Paul said. "'Ave a round on me!"
"Don't mind if I do!" Ryan said. Not often he got two free drinks in one day!
"So what gives with the music?" Jake asked.
"Not sure what happened," Troy said, looking at the singer-a large Latin man in an exquisitely-tailored tuxedo with tails-who stood bellowing something in Italian on the stage. "He says he was booked here, and the booking looks authentic. Calls himself Luigi Bellalugosi, claims to be Earth's Greatest Tenor." Troy said the last with Capital Letters, to Emphasize how Important Maestro Bellalugosi perceived Himself to Be.
Ryan rolled his eyes. "Figures it would happen today."
"Why today?" Troy asked curiously.
"April Fool's Day. Traditionally on Earth people play practical jokes on one another."
"Yeah! I used to have great fun with this one!" Jake added.
"I wonder who could have pulled this one?" Troy asked rhetorically.
Outside, Tarik kept himself as discreet as possible, enjoying a silent chuckle. It had taken some work, and the services of a certain Mr. Liteboulght, to change the bookings. But the results had been utterly hysterical!
Another two hours passed. Tiyanna watched as the smelly jelly had moved from one student's bag to another. The teacher had heard intermittent giggles, but the kids wouldn't tell her what was so funny. But as soon as Miss Neelle had turned her back the Smelly Jelly would rise and copy her movement, or wiggle, or jiggle something around.
Each trick gained it more appreciation from these little creatures on the station. They liked it and it liked them. But the one they called the teacher was getting very frustrated. Finally, right before lunch break, the smelly jelly had taken one last opportunity to reach out,under the teacher's skirt and pinch her bottom. She yelped like before and looked around still dismayed as he had disappeared into another child's school bag. The children had stifled their giggles. As they ate their lunch in a common area where the kids could run around and play, instead they had all gathered around and looked at the Smelly Jelly as it slid out of one boy's bag.
"What is it anyway?" Sara asked as she looked at it.
"I don't know," answered David, "But it's smart and its funny!" As he giggled the others giggled too.
The Smelly Jelly took the opportunity to take a few items and jiggle them around.
"Look!" Julianne said. "It's really amazing! It must me a new lifeform that we haven't learned about yet! Maybe we should tell someone . . ."
Suddenly Tiyanna arrived and interrupted the group. "I don't think that's a good idea," she replied. She looked at the Smelly Jelly. ~Its dangerous for you to do that. You might get caught here . . . You should hide and stay in my bag . . .~
Then, as if on cue, Tiyanna felt a presence.
"Hey, kids! What are you doing over here?" asked a sweet voice. It was the voice of their teacher. But before she could reach the group, the Smelly Jelly immediately crawled into Tiyanna's open and offered bag as the children tried to distract and intercept their teacher. With a sigh of relief, Tiyanna held her bag to her.
~Please stay in here now . . . Its for your own protection, okay?~
But just as she was about to walk back to the class, she felt her teacher behind her.
"Hello, Tiyanna . . ." she said with as smile. "I'd like to talk to you for a moment if I could."
A sinking feeling built up in the little girl's stomach. "About what?" she asked quietly.
"Oh, some strange things have been happening today and I just thought I would ask you if you knew what was going on . . . You seem to know things sometimes . . ."
"Well, I . . . I don't know anything this time . . ." she replied a little nervously. But she knew it was already too late.
"What's in your school bag?" she asked, noticing Tiyanna clutching it to her protectively.
"My school work . . ." Tiyanna replied. Her green eyes looking at her teacher intently.
"May I see?"
"I . . . I don't think so . . ."
"Why?" Miss Neelle asked.
Suddenly, a green shape came out of the bag quickly and the teacher jumped startled. But before she could react further, she felt another pinch on her bottom. She yelped again, only this time when she turned, she saw the green Smelly Jelly.
It reared up as if to get a good look at her. In that moment, the teacher went pale and she collapsed onto the floor. The smelly jelly slinked off and disappeared. Tiyanna watched to make sure no one had seen it, but the teacher fainting had definitely gathered attention.
She was at Miss Neelle's side as her teacher opened her eyes. "Are you all right, Miss Neelle?"
Her teacher looked at her for a moment and looked at all the faces filled with concern. She then turned her attention back to Tiyanna. "I'm going to have to have a chat with your parents," she replied as she slowly got to her feet and straightened her skirt.
Tiyanna didn't like the sound of that, and yet she wasn't afraid. She knew something they didn't. She could help them now, and the Smelly Jelly too!
Jayson Sandoval returned from an emergency call to the Gunslinger to break up a bar fight. Taking on five angry Klingons on top of a barful of assorted drunken aliens was not what he'd call an easy day. And then to top it all off, Angus MacGyver had put in another call regarding the stolen clown at MacDonnell's. Granted, it was important to him, but petty theft compared to a bar fight that had resulted in eight people going to Sickbay was nothing. When will that damn fool learn to bolt that thing down? he asked himself, not for the first time.
He checked in his phaser and stun stick and opened his locker to change clothes. The locker exploded in a burst of foam that filled the entire locker and spilled out onto the floor to a depth of ten centimeters for the length of the bank of lockers. Someone had set an expanding-foam fire extinguisher to go off when he opened the door. It was an elaborate setup.
Ignoring the fact that his clothes were saturated with fire retardant foam, Jayson studied the mechanism carefully, wondering who would or could have done something like that to him. He'd not gotten into any fights with any of the Marines lately, so that ruled them out. Colonel Tarik and Major Jackson had been keeping a tight rein on them lately in any case. Another Security officer? A possibility. Chief Lee was known to be a practical joker although Jayson hadn't seen him much lately. Lee worked on another shift.
Then it dawned on Jayson. There was someone who could have done it, and would have-all he needed was help. And someone like Lee would have been more than happy to join in on the joke.
Back at Soma, Ryan spilled the beans to Jake and Paul (both of whom he was growing to like a great deal with each drink). The fire extinguisher from the cockpit of his old Hammerhead had been perfect for the job. The emergency canopy release mechanism triggered the fire extinguisher to dump firefighting foam into the cockpit once activated. All he'd had to do was wire the locker handle to the fire extinguisher the same way. He hoped Jayson hadn't kept his best clothes in there. The foam could be washed out, but not easily...he couldn't have pulled off the joke without Tara's help.
Ryan smiled as he took another drink at Paul's expense. Life was good.
Katianna arrived at Holo Pursuits and changed into the studded leather mail armor she had taken to wearing lately in her Arthurian battle simulation. It wasn't entirely period armor, but then again the battle parameters had changed substantially. The Saxons now carried halberds, crossbows and match-fired arquebuses in their assault on Arthur's forces, and wore metal breastplates and chain mail-equipment nearly a thousand years ahead of the timeframe of the original simulation. The Saxons looked and behaved tactically more like Spanish conquistadors than the near-barbarians they had been originally. She needed more to protect herself. But not too much more. Maybe next week I'll give the Saxons flintlock muskets and field pieces. Got to keep this challenging! she thought to herself. She emerged from the locker room and entered the holosuite. But what she found inside was far different from what she expected.
A huge 18th century canopy bed dominated the room. Beside the bed was a bottle of champagne in a bucket of ice. On a table was a wide selection of various cheeses and candies. The room was lit dimly by dozens of candles. Katianna immediately knew what was going on. Paul, what am I going to do with you? she asked herself.
Suddenly the door slid open behind her. "Oooh, Margaret-I didn't know you were into that sort of thing!" an unfamiliar voice said with lascivious surprise. "I like the leather!" Suddenly, without warning, he grabbed Katianna's bottom.
Katianna struck the stranger in the solar plexus with her elbow. As she turned, both of her swords were drawn and ready to fillet the stranger. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! If you want to play rough, all you have to do is say so!" the man said, panicked.
She looked at the man. He had bright red hair and looked like nobody she knew. Katianna regarded him carefully as she held her swords back. "Do I look like Margaret?" she asked.
"Actually, yes, a little," the man said, regaining his composure. "Especially with your back turned. But you're not-I am so sorry!"
"We'll get this straightened out," Katianna said. "Sorry about that!"
"But if you're here, where's Margaret?" the man asked.
It dawned on Katianna. "Oh, my God!" she said suddenly as she rushed out of the holosuite, her new companion in tow.
In the next holosuite, they found Margaret-who, Katianna admitted, would be a double for her in low light-clad only in a nightgown in the midst of the assault on the Clyde River fortress. She was obviously panicked and rushing for cover as crossbow bolts and primitive bullets banged into the ground around her.
"Computer, end program!" Katianna ordered. The scene vanished, revealing the yellow-grid-on-black neutral position of the holosuite. Margaret lay cowering in one corner, her nightgown covered with mud, blood, and gore. The man rushed to her.
"Stan, what's going on-and who's that?" she asked.
"Someone mixed up our reservations apparently," Stan explained. "I'm so sorry, dear!"
"I'm Commander Katianna Nadira, with Starfleet Intelligence," Katianna explained. "This was a training simulation you stumbled into. I do apologize for the inconvenience. You two obviously had something planned. I'll make it up to you personally."
Both Stan and Margaret protested. "That's not necessary! You don't have to take responsibility for what this idiot company did!"
"It's not the company's fault. A friend of mine decided to have a little fun with me, that's all. Anywhere you like, just have them send the bill to me," Katianna said. It was no sweat off her back, as she was going to send the bill to Paul anyway.
Don Samuelson was setting up the interview with Tarik in an all-purpose conference room when three maintenance crewmen arrived with a large bundle. The men seemed a bit out of place for Starfleet. One man was completely bald, which was not unusual in itself, but he was somewhat outside Starfleet's weight requirements for humans. Another of the men had a haircut not unlike that worn by medieval monks, while a third man had hair in tufts to either side of his head.
"I'm Crewman Howard," the man with the monk cut explained. "These are Crewmen Fine and DeRita. We were told to see you, sir."
"Ah, yes. The Admiral's special project. Do you have the item we need?"
"Right here," the curly-haired crewman-Fine-said, unveiling the MacDonnell's clown.
"I can't believe someone of Wallace's stature would do something like this," Samuelson said, shaking his head.
"This isn't Wallace's stature-it's MacDonnell's!" DeRita-the bald man-replied. Howard grabbed DeRita's nose and twisted. "Knock it off, you knucklehead! We've got work to do!"
They set up the clown in front of the portable camera unit Samuelson had set up, nearly knocking it over several times. Samuelson wondered how these men managed to stay employed, much less in Starfleet. Wallace probably picked them as his stooges because they were expendable.
Samuelson filmed for a few seconds. "That's all. You can put that thing back where you got it now," he said.
Stumbling over themselves yet again, the three men removed the clown and left.
"Okay, Colonel, you're on!" Samuelson said.
[Acknowledged. I'll be there in ten minutes.]
Tarik found himself satisfied with the interview. Unlike much of the press, Samuelson actually seemed to have researched his topic before conducting the interview. And unlike nearly all of the press, Samuelson didn't try to pump him for classified information. Normally he was very reserved about media exposure, but tonight he couldn't wait to see the delay broadcast to all of FNN's outlets throughout the Federation.
He got home to find out that Tiyanna had gotten into some kind of trouble at school. Kassia had already dealt with the situation, but he felt obliged to talk to Tiyanna about reporting all unauthorized organisms on the station. Things could have been much worse, and he explained that the Smelly Jelly had caused a great deal of trouble with Banshee Squadron last year and nearly got one of them killed. Tiyanna nodded her head slowly but seriously after hearing that. She rarely got into trouble, and never a second time for the same thing. Tarik was satisfied that this wouldn't happen again.
The three of them sat on the sofa, watching the news feed. The announcer-in classic broadcast tradition, an individual with far too much makeup and hairspray and not nearly enough information-read from her script. [And tonight veteran anchor Don Samuelson brings us a long-awaited interview with Colonel Tarik, one of the heroes of last year's Briar Patch War. The Colonel will explain Starfleet's position on the expansion of the Mulluran Empire and the future of the Briar Patch Sector. Now, direct from Starbase 901, is Don Samuelson!]
Tiyanna laughed hysterically as the MacDonnell's clown appeared on screen, introducing himself as Don Samuelson. Tarik found himself answering hard-hitting political and military questions from a fast food mascot!
He groaned as he realized that the entire Federation was watching with him. Why would they do this?
"It's not the network," Kassia said. "It's Wallace. He set both you and Samuelson up."
"But this is going out to the entire Federation-probably farther than that!" Tarik said, for the first time in many years truly panicked.
"I don't think so," Kassia said. Suddenly the comm panel alerted him to a message. Tarik got up and answered the message, expecting the first of dozens of prank calls. Instead, he got Sotok.
[I must commend you on an excellent interview, Tarik. You are holding your own against one of the Federation's most experienced reporters.]
"I'm talking to a damn clown!" Tarik replied.
[Your opinion of the press is perhaps a bit strong, but Samuelson is a serious interviewer. You present yourself well.]
"Are we watching the same thing?"
[I am seeing you, whom I've known since you were born, speaking with Don Samuelson, who is immediately recognizeable.]
"Then we're not getting the same feed. I'll talk to you later, Sotok. Thanks for the call!"
Tarik left for the Commerce Section, where a number of people were watching the same interview on a central viewscreen. "Good job, Colonel!" one of the spectators said. "You're really telling it like it is!"
"Uhh...thanks," Tarik said. The screen showed Tarik with Samuelson. Somehow he was receiving at home a version that had been altered-with or without Samuelson's knowledge. But the panic that he'd felt at first had been incredible!
I don't know how you did this, Wallace, but I suppose we're even now. Tarik chuckled as he remembered Wallace's encounter with the clown. I suppose I had this one coming!