Of Harpers, Deserts, and Councils

[OdileCondacin 0]

I utterly hate Charlotte Harper. Yes. I know that she prefers Charlie. Or Medusa. But right now, I have half a year's irritation built up, and I feel like calling her Charlotte and thus, irritating her, too. Because she's done many nasty, mean, and downright evil things to a poor, poor Xenexian enlistee since I joined onto Agincourt.

 

Thanks to Ms. Charlotte Harper, I'm an officer now. And not just an ensign. No. Not just an ensign. Not a junior lieutenant. Not a lieutenant. A lieutenant commander. The woman, clearly, wants to make me as miserable as possible. Lieutenant-fracking-commander Odile Condacin. Why? Why?.

 

And I'm not just a commander-in-the-back-corner-working-on-a-bunsen-burner. She made me chief of sciences. Chief! Chief!! This is torture! This is inhumane! She knew what she was doing! She's not innocent... or ignorant of what she was doing.

 

Not that the dog helped any. Corizon's on the same list as Harper.

 

But in spite of all that, I still, somewhat, liked Charlotte-darling. I mean she had excuses, even if I didn't like them. But this... this... this is utterly unforgivable. A week in front of a bunch of bureaucractic, nosy, hard-headed, dull, self-righteous, brassy L'k'nth'zs who know nothing about Science and will ask a thousand stupid questions. Why me? For that matter, why poor Kitty? And Rieve? And Casper? Couldn't Harpy have done this herself -- or best of all, dropped off a bunch of data tapes and let Admiral Naht-so-bryte and Admiral Dum-bee figure it all out on their own?

 

Walking down the sandy path, she kicked a rock. At least Vulcan was homey. Deserty. Not quite vegetated enough to be Xenex, no, and too red... but that "blast furnace" feeling you got upon arrival... that was familiar. Comfortable.

 

Odile sighed. At least the Council didn't set up on Andor. Thank the gods for small favors.

[Kansas_Jones 0]

A week in front of a bunch of bureaucractic, nosy, hard-headed, dull, self-righteous, brassy L'k'nth'zs who know nothing about Science and will ask a thousand stupid questions. Why me? For that matter, why poor Kitty? And Rieve? And Casper? Couldn't Harpy have done this herself -- or best of all, dropped off a bunch of data tapes and let Admiral Naht-so-bryte and Admiral Dum-bee figure it all out on their own?

 

Sin, here's the plan: meet me out in back of the Council chambers during the lunch break. After we dump all our data with some boyishly good looking yeoman type aide guy who can pass it along, we totally bolt. Two words: Sand Surfing. w00ters!