h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

*Sam looks at Jack for a moment, slightly confused, then returns to her console*

*There doesn't seem to be much point in talking to him*

*Krystof Biermann is sitting in the officers' mess, fishing the melon out of his fruit salad*

*Since he still prefers beer, he's given his wine ration to Santos, and as a reward, is having his ear talked off by the small pilot, who is once more complaining about the injustices of not getting to modify his shuttle the way he wants, though he'd found a shade of metallic purple paint just *perfect* for racing stripes*

*Finally, Biermann can't take it anymore*

The problem is, it's not your shuttle, it's Starfleet's... But I've got an idea. You done with your dinner, Michi? Come on!

*Santos didn't seem terribly interested in what's on his tray, so Biermann simply drags him along to his quarters*

*Santos stands just inside the door, marvelling at the chaos inside. It's not that Biermann didn't tidy up - the floor is clear, the bed is made, there's not a dirty sock in sight - but the room is stuffed rather too full for Santos' liking*

*Besides the usual furniture, there's a sofa by the viewscreen, a long workbench all along one wall, and several stacked metal crates in a pile beside the wardrobe. There's a black electric guitar leaning on a stand beside the sofa, plugged into a pair of headphones, and a beat-up acoustic guitar hanging on the wall just above it. A football has been kicked into the corner beside the door, next to a stand holding a few small dumbbells in various sizes. Rather than framed pictures, he mostly has posters taped up*

*Santos doesn't quite understand why he keeps so much of his clothing hung on the walls - mostly red and blue shirts and scarves, though there are other pieces. If it's stinky, why doesn't he just send it to the laundry? Or does he have so much to wear that there's no room in the wardrobe? Keeping it out in the open surely isn't a good solution; people have even written on some of the things! He suspects those pesky Gaels*

*Biermann, meanwhile, has been rummaging around among the little pots of paint and glue, the bent wires, and the sheets of plastic and metal on the storage end of his workbench*

Here! See - you should do something like this.

*He holds up a model spaceship*

http://rails.josephbales.com/pix/enterprise_model.jpg

That's just a plastic one from a kit. But you could learn to make your own... Look. I'll show you mine.

*He grabs Santos' arm and pulls him over to the box on top of the dresser, carefully lifting it to reveal his nearly-finished model of a not terribly remarkable suspension railway*

http://www.monorails.org/webpix%202/CPHielscher03.jpg

See, that's a model of the train I always saw out my window... Here, see the little cogwheels?

*He points them out on the carriages*

http://cdn.fotocommunity.com/Eisenbahn/Modelleisenbahn/Schwebebahn-a18371121.jpg

There's a spring in there. You just need a little key to wind it, and away it goes! And it doesn't even need any energy from the Mariposa.

*He pulls the key out from its place at the front of his sock drawer and demonstrates*

You can build any spaceship you like. And then decorate it however you like. And then the best bit is that you can pretend it has any engines and weapons and whatnot that you want, see?

*Santos isn't convinced. He arches one eyebrow*

¿Pretend eet has?

*Biermann grins at him*

Sure. Write your own data sheet with whatever things you'd like. They don't have to *work* - but it can be the ship you'd have if you could have anything! Cheaper, too. If you take a toothpick with some beads on it and paint it grey, that's a perfectly good laser cannon...

*Santos looks thoughtful*

*Sam Larris pushes open the door to the Supply mess. It's automatic, of course, but this particular one always drags its heels a little when opening, as though it's rather tired of doing so*

*Inside, it's eerily quiet. For the Supply mess, that is - you can almost hear yourself think!*

*The beer's cheaper here, though, than it is on the station. There's even some Mucklasbräu left, which is by far superior to the thin, bitter stuff they serve in clay tankards there*

*For once, Sam has her choice of bar stools, but she climbs on the wobbly one anyway, out of old habit*

*It's nice to just sit here and think about nothing in particular, helped by the GV screen, where nothing particular is on*

*Brunhild and Charlotte are in Brunhild's office, staring at the screen after they let some data run through a new program they just got from the Romulan Fleet.*

*Brunhild wrinkles her forehead*

What do you think?

*Charlotte takes a moment before she replies*

Oh, you know... it's interesting. I guess.

Yes. Yes, it is.

Yes.

*They stare at the screen again, saying nothing. Then Brunhild clears her throat.*

I am sure you are familiar with this new technology?

Yes, yes of course.

Yes. Of course. I was sure you were.

*She stares at the screen again which shows a sequence of changing patterns again and again, then glances at her assistant.*

Charlotte?

Yes, Frau Unterweltraumführerin?

You don't have the slightest idea what this is, do you?

No. I'm sorry.

Thought so.

*Brunhild nods while Charlotte feels slightly uncomfortable.*

So... what is it?

A really good question. But looks quite nice, doesn't it?

Yes.

Yes... hm...

http://www.zefrank.com/dtoy_vs_byokal/

*Brunhild finally turns away from the screen and calls Lt Biermann on her comlink*

Lieutenant Biermann? Here is Unterweltraumführerin Brunhild von Forchtenstein zu Hinterpfuiteufel. We have a little... problem here. Please come to my office if you have some time.

*Biermann hadn't been doing anything important, just going for a run in the Arbo, but that doesn't mean he wants to *stop* doing it*

*He's never too sure how to act around Romulans, either, or even which language to speak*

*Still, she doesn't usually call him, so there must be a reason*

Yes, ma'am. I'm on my way.

*He dries his face with the sweatband on his wrist and jogs toward the exit, grumbling to himself*

*When Biermann arrives, Charlotte stands up*

Good watch, Lieutenant.

*Brunhild nods at him*

Guten Tag.

*she gestures at the screen, where the program is still showing patterns*

We need your help, Lieutenant. Can you explain to us what this is?

*Biermann snaps a salute at Brunhild*

*He's aware that he's out of uniform and unshowered, but if she calls him at odd hours, she'll just have to live with it*

I'll take a look, ma'am...

*He sits down in the empty chair, running his hand through his hair*

Oh. How'd you get to that? I didn't think it'd be enabled on your account.

*Charlotte sits down after Biermann and listens, Brunhild notices Biermann's outfit but decides that it does not matter at the moment*

The Fleet sent it this morning and I am obviously expected to know what to do with it. You know what it is, it seems.

*Biermann squints at Brunhild. They couldn't possibly...*

I *think* I know, ma'am. And if so, I think there must be a mistake.

*He drums his fingers on the tabletop, thinking*

It looks to me like a program for modelling HDEs in three dimensions. I've used something similar for training.

*His hand suddenly stops, index finger still in the air, as he has an idea*

Maybe you're just meant to pass it on to Engineering, or the Energy Office?

*What the Romulans are using it for is anybody's guess*

*Brunhild frowns at the screen*

HDEs? That is interesting. I never had anything to do with it and the message said nothing about sending it on to anybody. If you have similar programs already that does not seem to make much sense anyhow.

*she nods*

It was certainly a mistake.

*she thinks about why the Romulan Fleet would send their officers programs for modelling HDEs. Was there anything going on that she was not told about?*

*Biermann flashes Brunhild a quick grin*

Maybe they just want you to play with it. Look, it's pretty. Kind of...hypnotic.

*He watches it spin for a while. The random scribbles the ladies have added don't add up to any of the HDEs *he* knows, but that doesn't mean it's not a valid one*

*Brunhild nods*

Yes, you are right. We thought so, too. I will keep it, maybe we will need it some day.

*Maybe she should ask the Fleet some questions? Would they be answered?*

Thank you, Lieutenant. You were a lot of help.

*Biermann takes it that he's dismissed, and bounces back up out of the chair*

You're welcome, ma'am.

*With a glance at Charlotte, who's been sitting by mutely the entire time, he adds*

Have fun playing with it!

*Charlotte gives Biermann a smile*

Thank you, Lieutenant. I think I will get a copy. Have a good watch.

*she blinks a few times, the pattern really *is* hypnotic, she gets up and salutes*

*Brunhild nods at her assistant, then looks at Biermann again*

Auf Wiedersehen, and have a successful sports training.

*Biermann makes his escape, but he's lost the desire to go run - he's cooled down by now, and it seems like too much effort*

*Instead, since he's got his towel with him, he goes to lounge around in the hot tub on the Observation Deck*

*It's more serene up here when the ship isn't in hyperspace. Watching that always gives him a strange, prickly feeling*

*He sips coffee and watches the planet hanging above and to the left - blue-green, for the most part, but with entirely unfamiliar continents*

*The station is in geostationary orbit, so little by little, a moon edges into view, and lights twinkle on in the cities*

*In our daily routines, life goes on*

*Our little planet, orbiting a small, yellow sun in an unregarded corner of the galaxy, continues to turn, and we continue to be occupied with all sorts of things - birthdays, school/work, ever-annoying doctors, etc...*

*Meanwhile, we ask, what is going on aboard the CSS Mariposa?*

*There is no meanwhile, folks*

*Have you ever tried to sew two pieces of cloth together, when one was larger than the other? If you sew at all, of course you have. And you know what happens: They don't match. In that case, you make tucks, folds, or gathers, so that the larger piece of fabric starts and ends at the same place as the smaller*

Thus it is with the fabric of space/time*

*Therefore, Dear Reader, please assume that, in the absence of actor/recorders from these pages, NO TIME has passed on the Mariposa - or, at least, as little or as much time as the observers wish, as they can dip into this well of space/time at their leisure, rather like Tavaron and her tardis (she may drive her passengers to chocolate when she 'lands', but she can choose her space/time at will)*

*In other words, the CSS Mariposa is STILL orbiting the lovely, sunny planet of Remulad, where people wear togas and engage in virtual swordfights, and where the 'meat' grows on convenient trees*

*They are having fun, mostly*

*We say mostly, because at this moment, Captain Sharpe is irritably glaring at his vidscreen, which shows what he considers an unpleasant view of Remulad's moon, which is doing something funny*

*Not funny ha-ha - funny peculiar*

*Captain Sharpe regards the phenomenon balefull and demands of his conn officer*

HARDAWAY! Why is that moon sportin' a HAT?

*He drums impatiently on the arm of his command chair, causing the tannoy to develop a feedback hiccough*

*Lieutenant Hardaway is at the conn. He gazes at the readings of the senSOR*

It appears to be some sort of energy field, Captain.