"Surrounded by Threats"

[Tachyon 0]

The Roaring Chicken was an unusual name for a tavern. But then again, it was an unusual tavern. Earth in the 22nd century was not a paragon of peace and austerity as it has been said in the Martian Tabloids or the Jupiter Lesser-Reputed Gazzette. It indeed has its dark side, especially at night.

 

Rawel arrived precisely at nine o'clock, taking a table within plain view of the door. He tried to order an iced tea, but the waiter became belligerent.

 

"What does this look like?" the waiter proclaimed indignantly. "Is this a sissy joint? We only serve alcoholic beverages here, mister!" He pointed at the sign above the bar which said 'Proudly Drunk Since 2120' with a big arrow pointing down to the intoxicated bartender, also owner, of the Roaring Chicken.

 

Rawel nodded, but was not assauged. Alcohol was not exactly his preference. Why was he even coming to this meeting, it was not like he had to . . . but the clandestine situation, the sneakiness . . . it all appealed to his darker side.

 

"Beer, then," he said resignedly.

 

The waiter humphed and went away. Then Rawel realized that this was a tavern, and normally the waiter--if there was any at all--should not be wearing a good suit. Something was very strange here indeed.

 

The waiter returned momentarily with covered silver platter--again out of place--and set the platter on the table. "I believe that it is open, sir," and left.

 

Confused, Rawel lifted the cover off the platter. There was no beer, but instead another note:

 

The Back Back Back Room.

 

Apparently, the note wanted him to go not to the Back Room, nor to the Back Back Room, but to a room even further behind the bar. Reluctantly, Rawel stood up and looked around. There was no sign of the fancy waiter. The Roaring Chicken was in its normal state of confused drunkenness, with crazy customers all around.

 

The Back Back Back Room was dark. Very dark. Extremely, unbelievably, mindbogglingly, hugely, impressively, defying in description, dark.

 

Then the lights came on, and Rawel yelped as he shielded his eyes. The lights dimmed to an appreciable intensity, just enough to silhouette the figure in front of him.

 

"I always knew you were the curious one, A," she said. Again, she used his middle initial.

 

Rawel called out to the mysterious figure, "Who are you?"

 

The figure walked into the light, revealing the form of his older sister--by one year--Robin. She replied, "I'm the tooth fairy," with the same sort of dry wit she was accustomed to dishing out to her brother when he asked stupid questions.

 

He hadn't seen Robin for seven years, ever since she went to Mars to paint the Martian landscape. He reached forward and embraced his sister. "Robin . . . it's been so long. Why all the secrecy?"

 

"Because I'm a person who must keep secrets. I'm not just Robin anymore, there's more. I know what you're doing, Henry, and you have to stop."

 

"Stop? Stop what?" Any and all tension dispelled by seeing his sister was now back.

 

Robin's voice lowered to a whisper, and silence pervaded the room. "You know what I mean. Not everyone is happy with Starfleet, their exploration, their methods."

 

Rawel was taken aback. "Robin, you can't seriously--"

 

She withdrew from his embrace, whirling around. "Yes! Yes, I can, Henry. You may think that space travel is all that great, but think about the difficulties: the Klingons, the Andorians, the Xindi--not to mention all of those unidentified aliens that Enterprise met out in space! There are too many dangers, maybe the Vulcans are right!"

 

"But just sticking our head in the sands won't do anything! In order to protect ourselves, we have to know our enemy."

 

"Sure," Robin sneered. "You sound like a typical Starfleet lackey. Do you have an original thought in your head anymore, Henry? Do you ever think for yourself, or are you just spouting Starfleet dogma nonstop, propaganda that they distribute?"

 

Rawel just couldn't believe this . . . his own sister. He turned to go, but before he could leave, Robin's voice said from behind, "I know you, Henry. And you have doubts--more than doubts, beliefs! I can't ask you to join us. But I can ask you to keep us a secret. Is that so much to ask, A?"

 

Maybe it was. Rawel was loyal. But to whom was he more loyal, the Earth . . . or his sister?

 

-----

 

I figured we needed some isolationist, xenophobic type rebels. We've got Andorians, Vulcans, Romulans, Klingons even. But we need some human antagonists, other than our bureaucrats. So introducing the rebels, in technicolor.

Edited June 8, 2004 by Tachyon

[Cptn Moose 0]

I figured we needed some isolationist, xenophobic type rebels. We've got Andorians, Vulcans, Romulans, Klingons even. But we need some human antagonists, other than our bureaucrats. So introducing the rebels, in technicolor.

Well done, Tach.

 

Trichon has also written a log about a xenophobic isolationist. Perhaps there is some joing scheming / plotting in your future : )

 

Moose

[Dumbass 0]

Well done, Tach.

 

Trichon has also written a log about a xenophobic isolationist. Perhaps there is some joing scheming / plotting in your future : )

 

Moose

Well, you have to remember that the Xindi weapon just barely missed FredM's Florida house. (Why the Xindi struck there instead of a more obvious military target I don't know, but that's what they did.) It stands to reason that there would be some people violently opposed to venturing out into the unknown as a result.