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

*Sharpe leaps out his seat, causing several bridge officers to duck reflexively*

WHAT??? Some sort of...some sort of...

HARDAWAY, have you been talkin' to the Enterprise crew AGAIN?

The irascible commander stalks around the bridge, peering at the vidscreen as if taking the rifle range of a distant Frenchman. But at least he lowers his voice

*as his voice is now a loud, menacing whisper, this is not reassuring*

Hardaway. Gentlemen. I do NOT want to hear 'some sort of' on this bridge.

'Some sort of energy field' -ironically* - 'some sort of probe' - *very ironically* - 'some sort of tractor beam' - *most ironically, indeed*...

EITHER IT IS AN ENERGY FIELD, OR IT ISN"t!!!

*He grins at the vidscreen in a way that usually made his enemies run for cover

While you're 'some sort of'-in' at me, we could be in trouble.

FIND OUT WHAT IT IS.

*He turns abruptly*

I will be in my ready room when you have the answer. Say...

*Glances at commlink*

...in about 15 minutes, Mr Hardaway.

*And he strides off the bridge*

*Lieutenant Hardaway appears to have shrunk several inches. He frantically starts Barney-googling for moons and green coronas to no avail and glancing at his chronometer, sighs and decide to take the cowardly way out and call out for a Gael.*

Rory, this is Lieutenant Hardaway.

*In Communications, the day has been fairly slow so far, so Rory, Toirdhealbhach, and Liam are engaged in a three-handed game of tossing helium-filled balls around the office. Rory leans back in his chair and kicks a couple in Toirdhealbhhach's direction while answering the call with the little finger of his left hand*

Good watch, sir. How may I help you?

Rory, please check out the green corona around the moon now and let me know what it is, so I can inform the Captain.

*Rory decides to pay attention, since it's for the Captain*

Right, sir. A corona around the moon.

*He taps the keyboard, since he refuses to voice-activate his console (if he does, Boney, the shipboard computer virus, will simply start gossiping with him in French, which is annoying), and pulls up the same view of the vidscreen that the bridge is seeing

*He gives a low whistle*

Well, sir, either the miners over there are doing something funny - funny peculiar, not funny ha-ha, unless of course it's Remuladian Independence Day or some such, in which case it could always be a fireworks display run amok...

or...

*He remembers to take a breath*

It's an LPVC, a Localised Polar Vent Column. From the colour, it looks like artron energy. If you ask Lt von Koestler, sir, he can confirm the spectrum readings.

*Rory laughs

Nothing to worry about, sir. The moon is venting an energy source you usually can't see. It must be our angle to the moon and sun that's made it visible.

*He thinks - this is a brief activity, as thinking down to officer level gives Gael toms a headache*

You should probably reverse orbit, sir, or the crew might get dizzy. They might get dizzy, anyway, next time we pass the moon for a few hours.

I wouldn't recommend that we redock with Gensis Station till tomorrow, sir - the station is going to be headed right into that energy cloud.

You might warn them to expect some phenomena for a day or two.

*He stops, satisfied that this explanation is sufficient even for Starfleet*

Lieutenant Hardaway snaps.

What sort of phenomena is the station going to experience, Rory? And how long will the dizziness of the crew last? Should sick bay be informed?

*Rory puts his officer thinking cap back on, figuratively and reluctantly*

Hmm...well, sir, the station might experience pockets of temporary microgravity. And they shouldn't oversalt the food, and artron energy gets absorbed by potatoes, so they need to increase cooking time on the pommes frites...otherwise, they might feel dizzy periodically, and the electricity might flicker.

We'll get the same thing every time we go near the moon until the energy disperses, sir - I don't think Sick Bay has to worry, although I'm betting that any hypochrondriacs aboard ship will report that they've come down with Arcturan Space Plague...

*He chuckles*

So you might warn the medical people, sir.

*Hardaway smiles*

Thanks, Rory. Glad to hear that it isn´t particularly dangerous. I´ll let the Captain know.

*Hardaway goes to the Ready room to report to the Captain. He hits the announcer button. *

Captain, it is Hardaway here.

*Sharpe glances at his chronometer, and grunts satisfaction*

Enter, Hardaway, with answers.

*Hardaway enters the room.*

Captain, the gren hat is an LPVC, a Localised Polar Vent Column of artron energy.

*Sharpe raises one eyebrow - they teach this at the Academy, though he learned it from the Duke of Wellington*

And? What does it do, Hardaway? What do we do about it? Is it swirly-thing alert time? Do we need to call out the marines?

*Hardaway laughs*

No, Captain it doesn´t require that response. I suggest that we reverse the orbit and not dock at the station until tomorrow as it engenders microgravity pockets and the station may experience problems with their electricity and dizziness as it enters the artron field.

*Sharpe rolls his eyes - they do not teach this at Starfleet Academy, nor was the Iron Duke prone to it, but the Iron Duke only had to contend with the Peninsular Army, and not with Starfleet's finest*

Very well, Hardaway. Make it so. Reverse orbit, and tell Rory to advise Genesis Station they might have problems, and that we'll be back to spend moeny tomorrow.

*He holds up his hand*

In polliter terms, please. Dismissed.

*Sharpe adds, as an afterthought(

Oh, and well done, Hardaway.

*Hardaway smiles and thinks, thank you Rory*

Thank you sir.

*He leaves the ready room, goes back to the conn, and procedes to mash the buttons that will take them away from the offending moon. He then gets on the communicator and again calls Rory.*

Rory, please call the station and explain that we will dock with them tomorrow and they should pay attention to their pomme frittes for a while until the field disappates.

*Rory takes time from ball-playing to answer*

Right, sir. We'll warn them about the praties.

And we'll keep an eye on the gravity, sir. We've got the tools out an' a'.

*Liam laughs as he tosses another helium ball(

*Hardaway futily tries to imagine what these instruments are and shakes his head thinking I don´t want to know*

You do that, Rory. Let me know if anything more serious comes up.

*Lieutenant Aleister MacAlpine picks up his tray and winces. His headache is getting worse*

*Since there's a racuous group of Smiths enjoying their dinner a little too much near the window, he goes to the table at the opposite corner of the mess.*

*It's already occupied - by two people, who are managing to take up nearly the entire table*

*Miguel Santos has balanced his rice and meatloaf on one corner and spread out a whole pile of epads in front of himself, which he is studying intently*

*Krystoff Biermann sits across from him, reading along upside-down*

*Since there are neither senior officers nor people for whom he has to set an example nearby, he has his right heel up on his chair, resting his chin on his knee*

*Because the mess caters to all shifts, he's procured some cereal - not porridge, but something crunchy and sugary in milk - which he nearly dribbles over the tablecloth every time he takes a bite. It, too, has been pushed to one side*

*MacAlpine nudges the bowl with the corner of his tray, and with a sniff of disapproval*

*Biermann pulls it closer by a symbolical centimetre, but otherwise ignores the newcomer*

...not much use in space, but just think what she'll handle like in an atmosphere!

*Santos' eyes gleam*

¡Si! Eet ees de best.

*Nonetheless, he goes over the specs on two other epads again, just to be sure*

*MacAlpine groans pointedly and massages his temples*

Would you two PLEASE keep it DOWN! Today has been VERY trying.

*Biermann looks up, unaware of being particularly loud*

Headache, huh? Must be the energy field thing.

*Sharpe wouldn't approve of calling it that, but Sharpe isn't here*

*MacAlpine nods, gritting his teeth to demonstrate just how brave he's being to move his head at all*

An energy field? Oh dear, why did nobody warn me? Yes, I'm terribly sensitive to those. Perhaps I ought to go to Sickbay...

*Biermann shrugs*

Oh, don't worry. We're going around it.

*Santos digs in his jacket pocket and holds out a narrow plastic tube, sealed with a stopper at one end*

One of dem. Two, eef eet ees bad. Seeckbay does not have dem.

*He hasn't looked up from his epads once*

*While MacAlpine shakes two tablets into his palm and sniffs at them suspiciously, Biermann, too, turns his attention back to picking parts for the ultimate model spaceship*

*Lt Gugy Larrikin arrives at the table, bearing a tray laden with spaghetti and meatballs (from some unknown source(, Smith food, and assorted fruits*

*He holds the tray high above his head, to avoid Smith forays, and laughs his way to where MacAlpine, Santos, and Biermann are sitting*

Hallo, hallo, you three, mind if I park?

*He doesn'twait for an answer, but sits down at the end of the table and begins to twirl spaghetti with a fork and spoon*

How're they hangin'?

*His large grin is temporarily eclipsed by a large ball of spaghetti. Gugy enjoys his food*