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taxonomites2010-10-03 09:27 pm
icanhaslogic.livejournal.com) wrote in taxonomites2010-10-03 09:27 pm
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001 [holo] veh
This was a room he had never seen before, and hardly where Spock had been expecting to turn up when he had stepped onto the transporter pad. It hadn't been all that long since the crew had formed itself around the incorrigible bravado of James Tiberius Kirk, but there was that element of trust among all of them that only a massively traumatizing and life-threatening encounter could create.
This just rang too close to sloppy work done far too quickly. Hardly what he had come to expect and surprising enough that he spoke to someone not there without remembering that he wouldn't be heard if he didn't say it into a communicator.
"I believe you may have missed, Mr. Scott." It was only after he had spoken the words that he realized that the lack of communication devices would make it impossible to speak to those on board the Enterprise, and yet, when he searched for his, it came up missing (he had been certain that he had put it on his belt next to the phaser that was also gone. It was supposed to be standard equipment after all).
The next logical thing, then, was some kind of practical joke, though he had assumed that the crew members would know better than to try it on him as he would not give them the reaction that these kinds of things always seemed to call for. He arched one angular eyebrow over his alien eyes and spoke again to invisible people that might well have been listening from behind the strange metal walls.
"This is no time to make a vain attempt at humor." This mission was supposed to be important and they were wasting time-
-but there was no response. Hardly unexpected, though still almost-frustrating in that way that only a Vulcan could understand- emotional and not all at once.
"I am afraid that I fail to understand the joke." Hadn't he mentioned that these kinds of things escaped his understanding once before? Illogical and unnecessary, all of it. These things served no purpose, and yet humans seemed entirely fascinated by them. It was rapidly becoming apparent, though, that this was no prank, and that perhaps there was no Enterprise nearby to hear him- even if he had his communicator with him.
All he could do, then, was explore this strange room that he had ended up in. Metal. Nothing he had ever seen before, and his scientist's hands itched to be holding his tricorder and find out what it was. What this was.
He took a few steps and nearly tripped over an object at his feet- his lyre, strange thing to have in the room with him. It served no purpose now and he had left it behind in his rooms. It would have been illogical to bring it with him. Still, he cared for it as much as he could care for an item, and he bent down to retrieve the fragile, stringed thing from the floor where it was certainly unsafe.
"This is entirely illogical. Cease these actions immediately and return me to the planet's surface."
A last ditch effort, perhaps. The feel of wood beneath his fingers as he cradled his instrument gently in his hands made it fairly certain that this was no prank. In which case, his first priority was survival in whatever place this was. And that meant leaving this room.
Though the means to accomplish that were hardly apparent.
This just rang too close to sloppy work done far too quickly. Hardly what he had come to expect and surprising enough that he spoke to someone not there without remembering that he wouldn't be heard if he didn't say it into a communicator.
"I believe you may have missed, Mr. Scott." It was only after he had spoken the words that he realized that the lack of communication devices would make it impossible to speak to those on board the Enterprise, and yet, when he searched for his, it came up missing (he had been certain that he had put it on his belt next to the phaser that was also gone. It was supposed to be standard equipment after all).
The next logical thing, then, was some kind of practical joke, though he had assumed that the crew members would know better than to try it on him as he would not give them the reaction that these kinds of things always seemed to call for. He arched one angular eyebrow over his alien eyes and spoke again to invisible people that might well have been listening from behind the strange metal walls.
"This is no time to make a vain attempt at humor." This mission was supposed to be important and they were wasting time-
-but there was no response. Hardly unexpected, though still almost-frustrating in that way that only a Vulcan could understand- emotional and not all at once.
"I am afraid that I fail to understand the joke." Hadn't he mentioned that these kinds of things escaped his understanding once before? Illogical and unnecessary, all of it. These things served no purpose, and yet humans seemed entirely fascinated by them. It was rapidly becoming apparent, though, that this was no prank, and that perhaps there was no Enterprise nearby to hear him- even if he had his communicator with him.
All he could do, then, was explore this strange room that he had ended up in. Metal. Nothing he had ever seen before, and his scientist's hands itched to be holding his tricorder and find out what it was. What this was.
He took a few steps and nearly tripped over an object at his feet- his lyre, strange thing to have in the room with him. It served no purpose now and he had left it behind in his rooms. It would have been illogical to bring it with him. Still, he cared for it as much as he could care for an item, and he bent down to retrieve the fragile, stringed thing from the floor where it was certainly unsafe.
"This is entirely illogical. Cease these actions immediately and return me to the planet's surface."
A last ditch effort, perhaps. The feel of wood beneath his fingers as he cradled his instrument gently in his hands made it fairly certain that this was no prank. In which case, his first priority was survival in whatever place this was. And that meant leaving this room.
Though the means to accomplish that were hardly apparent.
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