Pride and Prejudice to Your House

Posted on Tue Dec 24th, 2024 @ 3:31pm by Lieutenant Commander Emni t'Nai & Captain Björn Kodak & Lieutenant Commander Victoria Cross & Lieutenant Xex Wang & Lieutenant Axod Qo
Edited on on Tue Dec 24th, 2024 @ 3:47pm

Mission: Mean Green Queen
Location: Holodeck
Timeline: Mission Day 3 at 1830

1880. AUSTRALIA IS MODERNIZING AT A RAPID PACE. ON THE FRINGES OF SOCIETY, A HANDFUL OF MEN SKIRT THE RULE OF LAW AND ROB, MAIM, AND KILL TO SURVIVE. THESE "BUSHRANGERS" WILL BE BROUGHT TO JUSTICE - BY ANY MEANS NECESSARY.

In the dead of night, bounty hunter Melanie Collins gazed out into the frigid desert lit by the moon, a Winchester rifle steady in her hands, held long way across her waist. She thumbed her ragged cowboy cap and tried to make out a twinkling in the distant Western Australia hills.

"Fire on the horizon, maybe?" She asked her compatriots, turning back to the campfire, before approaching her horse and running her fingers through her mane.

"Could be," Buck-- Bucko to his friends-- McAllister replied in what he imagined was a drawl, "we did see those tracks only a few kilometers back." He sat on his haunches before the fire, a frankly ridiculously large knife in one hand and a skewer with what maybe used to be a lizard on it in the other. He looked like he was contemplating whether to use the knife or his teeth to tear into the charred remains of the reptile. Eventually settling on his teeth, he bit down on what looked like a fleshy bit of the creature with great gusto. It still seemed difficult to tear from the main body of the creature, and when he started chewing, it was clear that the meat was as tough as the hide. Still, his silvery features were contemplative rather than disgusted, and he said, "Hm! Faintly spicy," by way of description for the meat. With an expectant look on his face, he held out the skewered lizard toward the rest of the figures around the fire. Behind him, one of the hobbled horses shifted uneasily.

Amos "Dusty" Dalton looked up from tending the fire with a thick stick, an eyebrow arched at the lizard on offer. "No thanks," he rasped, the flames catching in his yellow-gold eyes as they slid from the reptile to Bucko. "Appreciate the offer, tho," came the follow up comment. A skeet of spit ejected from the side of his mouth then -- slightly purplish in color thanks to the gummy substance he was often found chewing -- as Dusty then turned to Collins. "The Benham Boys have been operating out of these parts of late. Moonshine Sammy said they've been taking some of the local women to help them...celebrate," he chose a deliberately less expressive description, "their latest bank job in Reddington. Could be them, I 'spose."

As Dusty crouched near the campfire, returning to the tending of the flickering flames, the firelight danced across his rugged features. Beneath his worn leather jacket, he wore a snug, open-collared shirt that revealed a hint of dark chest hair and suntanned skin. The shirt clung to his form, accentuating his muscular chest and arms, while the jacket hung loosely, flapping slightly in the wind. Slung across his back was a long-distance rifle, a testament to his deadly accuracy and formidable skills. The grip of the rifle was a work of art, adorned with intricate pearl inlay and gold plating. An etched design of a bear adorned the grip, symbolizing the untamed beast within Dusty — ferocious, powerful, and relentless. The rifle's presence alone had been enough to send a shiver down the spine of many would-be outlaws. And if Dusty had his way, it would do so again when they caught up with their quarry.

Laying out with his feet resting near the fire and the brim of his hat pulled down to cover his face, Augustus Clay or Gus as he'd been known since he was a child, listened to the conversation happening around him. Gus was still pretty new to the gang, and this was his first bounty. He was eager to prove himself, but found he was getting very tired while travelling during the daytime under the sun. "Wish my mama was here. Sure could go for her berry preserves on some Indian bread about right now."

"Suppose we can camp here tonight. Make our way to whereabouts we see them fires, maybe take turns standing sentry so no critters get the jump on us, mates. Or we could break from dinner, investigate now. Them Benham boys is some slippery bastards, don't want them catching our scent and making trails ahead of us too long or we'll be short a payday."

Swallowing the rest of the edible portion of the lizard, Bucko flicked the last of the charred carcass into the fire and straightened up, slipping the enormous knife into a sheath on his belt, where a pair of revolvers were also holstered. He rested one hand on the worn smooth wooden handle of one and shielded his eyes against the glare from the fire with the other, looking out in the direction Collins had been gazing. While he looked, he told Gus, "I'm thinkin' you're not going to want your mama here the bullets start flyin'." His drawl was punctuated with Xex's normal precise diction, making for a mishmash of accent that was somewhat harsh on the ears. Turning to Collins, he said, "They already gave us the slip once. I'm not keen to let 'em do it again. 'sides," he paused, glancing at the dark bunched shapes of the horses, "somethin's got the horses riled."

As if in answer to Bucko's comment about the horses soft footsteps could be heard as gravel crunched between boots. Isabella "Bel" Sanchez breached the edge of the firelight and slowed, holding up her hands. "Just me gents," she said to the three men before nodding a greeting to Collins. "Don't get your knickers in a bunch. Ain't no one within half a kilometer and the horses are just uneasy 'cause I ain't got no treats in my pockets."

It was only partly true. The woman, tall and lean in a linen blouse and tan slacks had failed to produce any kind of appreciable edibles to complement the diet the horses had maintained and she'd a reputation with them of bringing something back whenever she was out scouting. But the horses had seemed more skittish tonight all the same. Dropping to the ground next to the fire Bel pulled a gunny sack over to her side, pulling it open and rummaging until her fingers brushed the hard knobby feel of a bit of jerky. She pulled the morsel out of the pack and popped it into her mouth, chewing as she addressed Collins. "Definitely fires on the horizon," she agreed. "A couple of 'em. Maybe two or three? Either the weather's made 'em stupid or that's a bigger group than we'd like to see." The sentence, though, understandable, came out garbled even though Bel had pushed the bit of dried meat into her cheek to make it easier to speak.

"That don't comfort me much." Gus said, rolling on to his side to face Bel grunting as he moved. "Could it be deliberate. Multiple fires to confuse or scare any tails." He pushed himself up into a seated position and reached for a bottle that was set near his ruck. He unscrewed the top and took a long swig. He swallowed hard.

"Don't think so," Bel responded around the hunk of chewy meat. "There's folks near each of the fires so they'd have to have made doubles of themselves for that to work. And any kind of weird voodoo ain't something I want anything to do with."

Collins took a breath and dusted her hat on her hand, before turning back to the fire. "Okay. Lantern's off, mount up. Kill the fire. We ride. Not keen on waiting any more truth be told and I just can't shake the feeling that something awful is gonna happen." She wasn't lying. There was a chill in the air, something like the whine of violins up one's spine and a strange feel to the desert tonight. Dread. The fires on the horizon were quiet. No shooting, hooping and hollering of successful desperados, no scent of anything but maybe strange meat on the wind. She approached her horse, stepped up into the stirrup, and swung her leg around the animal's back, straightening up. Taking her rifle from her saddle bag, she circled the horse to look over the others. "Be ready for anything, mates."

"Now we're talkin'," Bucko said, clapping his hands together and rubbing them with anticipation. Without even waiting for Gus to stand, he kicked sandy dirt over the fire, dousing the flames and plunging them into starlit darkness. Satisfied with his hasty solution, he swaggered over to his own horse, a beautiful mahogany colored creature he imagined had some kind of fancy breed name, and clicked his tongue at her. She whinnied softly in response and he ran his hand down her side, checking his riding gear, and most particularly the long-barreled shotgun holstered conveniently at the pommel. Finding his gear to be in order, he grunted as he attempted to swing up into the saddle with the same easy grace as Collins. Unfortunately, he had not practiced nearly as much as she had and he only got halfway before he had to flail out with his hands, catching the far side of the saddle and hauling himself bodily into the seat. To the holoprogram's credit, the horse didn't shy or otherwise unseat him, and he was soon arranging himself in the saddle as his horse began to shuffle, expectant. "Born ready," he assured Collins. "What's our play?"

"Born ready, huh?" Dusty smirked in the wake of the mishap, the expression mostly lost in the darkness that had rushed in after putting out the fire. The moonlight caught in his yellow-gold eyes, however, and a spark of bemusement shone in them as he regarded Bucko and his horse. "That's a good one, right there," he nodded to the equine, "not dumping you off for that. Good choice of horse," the bounty hunter commended as he moved to his own beast -- a white mare who seemed to slightly shine in the soft light of the half-crescent night.

Elsa looked up as her rider drew near. The now-nickering horse shook her head with excitement as half an apple was extended her way, dirty fingertips of no concern as they offered the fruit to her. It crunched as she munched, Dusty patting the side of her neck with affection before anchoring his foot in a stirrup and pulling himself up, over, and into the saddle. Settling himself, Dusty took the reins and pulled sideways, causing the horse to move similarly. As she neared him to Collins, he looked at the woman and said, "We going in quiet? Loud? Or maybe both?"

Bucko's teeth flashed white in the moonlight as he stroked a hand down the warm panes of his horse's neck. "My mama always said I had an eye for the fillies," he retorted. "Ruby here more'n makes up for my shortcomings."

Melanie took the reigns of Bingo, her horse, and ran a few fingers through the nag's mane, before giving her a pat on the neck. She straightened herself and adjusted her cowboy hat to shield her eyes from the moonlight. "We go in quiet, then loud as can be to ambush. Mr. Dalton, please take my flank, some twenty lengths so you can keep an eye on anyone that may try to get wise on us. Ms. Sanchez, I reckon' this is quite different from your time in America, but the song plays the same notes. You and Mr. McAllister, please stay by my flank, we'll make up the main combat force. Mr. Clay, if you would like, please run opposite Mr. Dalton. I want no surprises. Quiet those horses, steady as she goes. We're just midnight riders."

Gus wasn't accustomed to being called Mr. Clay, and it made him smile. He nodded at Melanie's words, understanding her plan and working it out in his own head. He instinctively reached to his hip and felt for his revolver. Even though he hadn't moved it, it was a nervous habit. He never wanted to lose it.

"Aye," Bucko agreed, shooting a glance sidelong at Bel. Though his own eyes were only a glimmer in the starlight, he thought he managed to catch her gaze, and gave her a deliberate nod. They'd ridden flank before, and he didn't think anything else was necessary to determine their places. Clicking his tongue quietly, Bucko urged his mount around to the side, placing himself in position just off Melanie's eight-thirty. He knew Collins liked to used his ambidexterity to cover their weaker left side.

Bel, who had swung up into her saddle as if riding horses were an everyday occurrence and not something she'd only done a handful of times and only ever with holoprogram steeds, raised one eyebrow at Bucko. Her distinctly Vulcanoid ears were unmissable and the eyebrow raise only enhanced the effect creating some incongruity in the moment. She nodded back, though, a quick short jerk of her chin upward and then back down as if to say We've got this.

The comment about the Americas had been an unintended addition to Bel's characteristics. It made sense, even if it meant that she was toying with two cultures rather than one--the benefit being an easy explanation for anything she messed up along the way when it came to fitting in amongst the Aussie locals. She clicked her tongue quietly and shook her reigns the way she'd been taught, tugging on one side to pull her roan's head about until she was settled a few feet to the side of Bucko.

As the group approached the mysterious camp across the plain in the dead of night, something horrible became gradually apparent. The camp was in tatters, with bodies to and fro, with notable members of the Benham Boys gang dead with eyes wide and in shock. Some had been burned by something, some had been cut. The glows of the fires weren't from a campfire - They were from a strange, flickering glow in the rocks nearby some thirty yards away. Something dreadful is in the air. Something is watching the group.

Scattering from under a overturned wagon, a man readied his six gun and with wild eyes, aimed at the riders.

Melanie raised her rifle to meet him. "Easy! Easy," Her horse reared slightly in surprise. "Easy! Put the gun down, boy! You're outgunned six to one, what the hell happened here?!"

"You're not the help Jodie was getting?" The man lowered his gun slightly, before steadying his aim. "Who the hell are you?!"

From her spot in the line Bel was taking in the chaos and destruction around them. It was hard not to revert to the medically trained instincts of a Romulan doctor knowing it would be entirely out of character for her to have any real in depth analysis of the death lying scattered all akimbo around them. When the man from the wagon scrambled in front of them, though, she pulled her horse to a halt, eyes darting over to where Bucko was doing the same on his mount. She caught his eye and mouthed a barely perceptible expletive-filled question that could easily be understood even without hearing.

The eerily quiet camp already had Bucko on edge, his shotgun in hand and ready. The sight of the first body however, had him reigning in, much to his mare's displeasure. She snorted and stamped in place, nearly unseating her rider who had leaned down to get a closer look at the first of the dead Brenham Boys, not nearly as good at staying in character as Bel. At least his horse managed to shift his attention to keeping his seat, muttering quietly to her and allowing her to step gingerly away from the corpses.

This quiet lasted only a moment as the man appeared suddenly. Cursing as he fought to keep his nervous horse from bolting, he snapped back, "Nevermind that son, when you're outgunned you start answering questions quicklike." When his horse finally quieted enough for him to look up from his reigns, Bucko glanced aside at Bel and grimaced in response, the barest movement of his shoulders serving for a shrug.

Gus kept his hand on his holster, ready to draw if anything unexpected popped up. He took few steps to stand behind where Bel was. In truth, Axod wasn't expecting so much violence when he'd agreed to join the group on the holodeck, not that it was off-putting just unanticipated. He began thinking he should have researched the time period more, and made a note to do some research if he was asked back. He cleared his throat, trying to keep in character, he spit on the ground near one of the Benham Boys, before stepping over him.

Dusty'd been riding flank as asked, his rifle unslung and sitting in the crook of an arm as his hands guided the reins of his horse, Elsa. She gave a quiet, cold nicker as the group approached the scene ahead, her body tensing between her rider's legs. "Easy girl," the Chameloid cowboy whispered, reaching forward to gently pat the side of her neck. She calmed some, allowing "Mr. Dalton" to look about the area and start putting some conclusions together, when suddenly the man darted out from the cart, gun raised. The horse stomped a front hoof then -- as if to say "what now?!" -- and began to draw up but Dusty clinched the reins, stalled the lift, and aimed his rifle from his arm crook.

"I'd do as she says," he rasped at the man, the moonlight shining across the gilded body of Dusty's rifle. "That gun ain't gonna do you any good right now. But yer words...those might do," he encouraged cooly, lifting his sharp shooter to train on the wild-eyed man's weapon. He'd shoot if he had to but his intent was to disarm, not injure. This man could provide vital intelligence about what had happened here. Would be a shame to waste that, he thought to himself.

The crook was, in a word, in despair, with a mask of fear painted clearly on his face. He ran a hand through his sweat slick hair and crawled out from his cover, almost paying no heed to the guns of the group. "You- You don't get it. God, damn it, I thought you chaps were help! Jodie- He was gonna get an army, you need an army!" The crook shook his head. "You idiots have got to be quiet! I swear, if they hear you-" Suddenly, a flash of green light. The man screamed, and a radiating field of energy burned outwards from his chest as he was disintegrated from the inside, his smoldering body collapsing to the ground. From the rocky hills behind him..

...A Klingon warrior took aim with his disruptor rifle and howled with laughter. "I am Tark, Son of Keshk! Kill me if you can, you filthy worms!" Melanie scrambled to aim her rifle, but another bolt from the alien's disruptor rifle caused her horse to spook, throwing her to the ground. The bounty hunter hit the ground hard and screamed in pain, her gun thrown some six feet away. The horse ran into the dark of the night.

The disruptor shot was a bridge too far for Ruby, she reared and shied, either one of which was plenty to unseat Bucko, and when combined served to fling him bodily out of the saddle with an inarticulate cry. Following Collins' mount away-- far away-- from the smells of blood and death, the agitated humans, and the bright, frightening lights, Ruby bolted and was soon lost from sight. Bucko meanwhile, who had hit the ground with a grunt of pain, managed to roll closer to Collins. Even if Bucko wasn't technically a doctor, he could at least get her into cover. Hoping the rest of the group had retained their mounts, he fired a couple of wild blasts from his shotgun in an effort to at least make their assailant-- had he been speaking Klingon?-- take cover for a couple seconds, and hooked Collins' shoulder, giving her a tug. "C'mon!" he exhorted.

Mumbling what was surely a curse in Rihannsu, Bel tugged hard to the right on her horse's reigns, making her dance sideways. For a moment she thought she'd lose control of the creature and find herself on the ground with the others, but finally she settled enough to be guided and moved behind a wagon. Sliding gracelessly from the horse's back Bel tied the leather lead to the wagon and crouched, trying to reconcile Klingons with her understanding of the program they'd entered. Somehow she just hadn't counted on disruptor fire and crenelated head ridges amongst the things they might encounter in this story.

With a deep breath she ducked around the edge of the wagon, making shooshing noises as she went in hopes that her horse, who was too worked up to stand quietly, might still... or at least miss stepping on her own toes. A quick scan showed Bucko pulling Melanie away from the middle of things and she turned her head, trying to pin down where Dusty and Gus had landed.

But Dusty hadn't landed anywhere. Disruptor fire, gun fire, whatever -- Elsa was used to being shot at; used to the loud noises of death, the commotion of fear, all of it. And astride his trusted partner -- who'd served as a mobile sniping position many a time -- Mr. Dalton leaned forward and to the side, trusting that the moonlit mare would keep her station as he aimed for the Son of Keshk. Dusty didn't understand why they were suddenly dealing with a Klingon but the surprise of it had quickly dissipated, leaving behind the cold, steely eye of a practiced sharpshooter -- at least so far as the holodeck and the auto-aim settings that accompanied his character's background was concerned. Kodak himself wasn't much of a shot but Dusty? Dusty was legendary.

Looking down the sights of his weapon, Dusty aimed at an exposed shoulder -- barely exposed, but it was there. Just a little sliver but between the slight sway of his arms, even braced atop Elsa, and the Klingon's own movements, it wasn't enough to hit. "Ya gonna hide behind there like a--" he thought of saying 'Romulan' to provoke the Klingon into moving out of cover but thought better of it for Emni's sake, even if such an insult would be a historically accurate way of needling Tark. Instead, he ended with, "--a tribble? Cowering and cooing in the dark?!" He readied himself to fire just as soon as the Klingon moved enough to expose more meat to work with.

Gus surveyed the situation using a plump bush for cover."Who the hell put a Klingon here?" He said to himself in a hushed tone, breaking character and allowing Axod to come out. he held his gun tight, ready to provide cover, distraction, or even the kill shot if necessary. He saw Dusty aiming to where he assumed the Klingon was. From this vantage point, Gus couldn't see whether the Klingon was aiming back.

"Yes, Ha Ha Ha! Yes! Cower in shame, worms, for I, the Son of Keshk, will test your so called fury, you dis-dis-dis-dis-dis-" The hologram sputtered, stuck in the middle of an animation frame. The fire burning in the cowboy's fire pit went to static, and the stars in the night sky began to rotate rapidly, turning the sky into a bewildering swirl of color and streaks of light. "dis-dis-" The Klingon continued to spur, jolting across the plane before returning to his spot, his head rotating three hundred and sixty degrees before he and the rest of the landscape rendered in a flat, crude polygonal design. The world went dark, save for the Starfleet crewmen. Text appeared above them.

"ERROR- HOLOEMITTER SUB-ROUTINE RECYCLING TO PREVIOUS ITERATION. ERROR IN LCARS UPDATE KERNAL 4941-THETA-LUCILLE. RESOLVING. MERGING HOLODECK PROGRAMS."

Victoria removed her cowboy hat dangling from her neck with a leather string. "What?"

Next to Victoria, Xex blinked at the words. "That can't be good..." he muttered, his shotgun lolling in his hand so that the barrel pointed down at the floor.

The world was different in a flash. The group of cowboys found themselves in a green grassy yard, with a large, beautiful English Regency manor before them. A horse-drawn carriage comes to a stop before the manor, and a weathered old man emerged from the back, sitting on a cane. "You there! You five must be the rabble that wish to marry one of my daughters! I'll never approve of it, you hear me? Never!" He yelled, spitting up on his wrinkled chin. As the carriage pulled away, three ladies-in-waiting emerged from the home.

Something was immediately off of the three. One was your typical Jane Austen-style protagonist faire, but one was a rugged cowboy, the same cattle rustler that had confronted them from before, and ...the last was Tark, Son of Keshk.

"WHO ARE THOSE STRANGERS, FATHER?" Asked the Klingon, stopping to adjust his bonnet upon his heavily ridged forehead.

Completely dropping the character of Gus now, Axod rubbed his temple. "What the Hell is happening?" He asked. He was thoroughly confused by the happenings of the last few minutes."Should we try turning it off and back on?" he asked, half joking.

"I dunno Ax," Xex said, peering at the incongruous sight of cattle-rustler-as-daughter beside the even more disturbing Klingon-warrior-as-daughter, "I'm kind of interested to see how well Tark, Son of Keshk fights in a corset." The doctor was fighting a smile, as evidenced by the twitching of his lips, as he climbed to his feet and leaned on the butt of his shotgun.

"Hopefully worse than me." Ax responded, sounding a bit nervous. "I gotta admit I don't have a lot of combat training, certainly not up against a Klingon warrior."

Emni, who had been a bit deeper in the holodeck than the others, walked over to the group, eying Tark with particular amusement. "Computer," she said aloud to the air in front of them, "Access holodeck reservation logs. Advise who was using the holodeck before our group."

A chime from the computer, entirely incongruous with the environment (which... frankly... was already a mishmash of incongruity) confirmed that the computer had heard and was processing the request. A half second later the smooth voice of the computer advised, "Ensign Morgan Porter, was scheduled to use the holodeck at 1700 Hours."

"And what program was Ensign Porter using?" Emni asked, bemused.

"Ensign Porter was engaged in a regency era comedy of manners. These types of storylines were first made popular by Jane Au..." the computer advised before Emni cut it off mid sentence.

"That's enough, thank you," she said to the air and then turned to the now assembled companions. "So... who is marrying Tark, Son of Keshk?"

"That damned LCARS update," Dalton-now-Kodak swore. "Engineers always tell you, 'Oh, it won't be a problem at all. You'll see captain.' And yet," the Chameloid grumbled, "here we are." He was still astride Elsa, whom the holodeck had, quite thankfully, not removed from beneath his chapped legs. The horse nickered as if responding to her rider's sarcasm, shaking her maned head before sputtering out the equine version of a vocal raspberry. Kodak slid down the horse's side, lifting one leg up and over the saddle before twisting to lower it -- and his body proper -- to the ground. Reins still in hand, he walked up to join the main group, golden eyes focused intently on the Klingon. The situation was almost funny, if only he'd let himself laugh. Instead, he was perturbed to have their fun western adventure turn into a pulpy romance novel.

"Computer," the Captain rasped with agitation, "exit please. I certainly didn't sign up for bonnets and slow walks along the lake," Kodak complained to the group with a sigh as he waited for the computer to carry out his command.

"ERROR," the computer intoned all around them, the text also appearing in mid-air.

Victoria gazed at the text, as she listened to the computer. "Blimey. That's ..going to be a problem. What do you lot recommend see do? I'm really not keen on uh. This." She removed her hat. "COMPUTER, OPEN EMERGENCY EXIT. COMMAND OVERRIDE."

Text appeared once more. "MEMORY KERNAL FAILURE. HOLODECK CONTROL SUBROUTINES ARE NOT AVAILABLE."

"Oh. .... Shit." Victoria cursed, planting her hands on her hips, before turning to her shipmates. "So uhm. What do you lot think we should do?"

The Lord of the Manor harrumphed. "No daughter of mine will be betrothed to common rabble! By the manner of your dress you're more fitting for the horse barn than a ballroom!"

The Desperado daughter spoke up. "Come now, father! Please invite them in for tea!"

With a shrug, Emni looked from Victoria to Kodak and back and then, for good measure, tracked the rest of the group meeting the eyes of Xex and Axod in turn. "Tea sounds lovely," she advised the Desperado daughter, offering the woman her warmest doctor-grin before nodding her head toward the manor. "Safer to go along with the story for a few minutes while we try to get ahold of engineering," she advised her crew mates. "If the system is having this much trouble then I wouldn't trust the safety controls as far as I can throw them. And I don't know about any of you, but I'd rather be on Tark's sweet side."

With a flourish of a bow to the Desperado daughter, who seemed not to notice the discomfiture and out of character discussion going on between them, she offered the other woman her arm, straightening her back and rolling back her shoulders. "Please lead the way."

Before Xex could take exception to being called 'common rabble,' Emni was advising them to go along with the scenario. He glanced first at Kodak, then Victoria, and finally to the lineup of regency characters, very much including Tark, son of Keshk. Swallowing, he had to admit his combat skills were not up to 'Klingon Warrior' level, and thus jerked his head toward Emni. "I'm with her," he agreed of being on Tark's sweet side, nudging Axod forward with his shoulder, "Why don't you sweeten the pot, Ax-- er, Gus?"

"Me?!?" Ax said stumbling forward at Xex's push. "I uhh... I would honoured to promenade with one of your daughters sir." He did his best to remember the regency era novels he Academy roommate had told him he 'absolutely must read'. With a nervous hand, he pushed his red hair back from his face in an attempt to make himself look more presentable.

"You're doing great, Ax! Keep it up!" Victoria gave him an exaggerated thumbs up as he approached the lord of the manor, before turning to the others with a downcast, sorrowful shake of her head. She approached Captain Kodak and spoke softly. "Okay. Something is seriously glitched. The original story was we had to battle a Klingon crash-lander, it was this thrilling cowboys versus Klingon kind of thing. Not.. this. I don't know what the story has planned for this. Oh- Hold on! Maybe," Her eyes lit up with an idea. "Computer! Fast forward through this story to the beginning of the next act!"

"ERROR. HOLODECK CONTROL SUBROUTINES NOT AVAILABLE."

The blonde officer bit her riding glove in frustration.

"Computer! Reset Holodeck! Emergency override! Operations control code Theta Iota Theta One Seven Cross!"

"ERRER. HALOBECK CONTRAL SUBROUTINES NOT AVOILABLE."

"Errer?! Halobeck Contral Subroutines Not Avoilable?!" Cross snapped in incredulous shock. Hands on her hips, she turned to the crew. "Okay, this has gone on far enough. Let's feel around for a wall. Eventually we have to reach it, right? And maybe find the proper door controls? Maybe if we split up in teams?"

Any disquiet Xex might have felt at the holodeck's malfunction seemed smoothed by the computer's strange diction and Cross' subsequent annoyance. He hid a smile as he followed Axod at a discreet distance toward the manor. "I'm so turned about now, I'm not sure I'd know which way the door was. But unless you know how to tell a holodeck wall from a real wall..." he trailed off as his fingers brushed a manicured hedge along the walkway up to the manor house. It bent and swayed beneath his touch, illustrating the difficulty of finding a 'real' wall among the holodeck ones. "Probably the controls will be our best bet," he added over his shoulder, "Unless the captain has an override?"

Kodak -- who'd nodded to Victoria's explanation of the original program vs. what they were getting now -- shook his head then at Xex. "I'm afraid not. We Captains are bound by the same holodeck calamities as the rest of you. Which makes you wonder," his golden eyes narrowed, "why the hell we ever chance relaxing in these things?" He smirked at that, though. "Could be worse. At least we aren't mer-people under the sea being chased by a giant octopus or something, eh?" he rasped as he, too, felt around for hidden access panels and controls. Such things used to be restricted to the Arch but after too many failed attempts to summon said Arch in holodeck misadventures, Starfleet had begun building in manual accesses, cleverly disguising them in the holographic environs.

His search took him near Axod, whom Kodak had spied trying to pretty himself up. Kodak chuckled and said, "Try standing up straighter, arms clasped behind your back. Tilt your chin a few degrees higher than you normally would. Regal bearing for a, um..." he looked at the Klingon daughter and then back, "regal woman." His bearded face seemed on the verge of breaking out into a full blown grin but the Captain did well in containing it.

Axod had to bite his lip to stop his smile at the statement about the Klingon's 'regality'. Still, he followed the advice of the Captain, fixing his posture and pulling his arms behind his back. "May I?" He asked, looking between Tark, son of Keshk and her holographic Father.

Emni had been last to catch on to the planned next step as she found herself walking at a slow stately pace and commentating on the flowers along the manor garden to the Desperado Daughter who cooed and battered his eyelashes at her in a move that was clearly dropped directly from the Regency era plotline. It looked awkward on the cowboy whose two day old scruff and craggy cheeks gave more of an impression of leering than of demure flirtation.

"M'lady," she said, stopping them and withdrawing his hand from her arm. "If you would allow me." Stooping she reached for a cluster of flowers, fingers probing along the space in an awkward attempt to pick a flower while also looking for the emergency controls. Xex had, of course, been quite right and the flowers flexed beneath her fingers until she met the earth at which point the solidity of the space became easier to manage. She suspected she must be near a wall. Or at least nearer. They could all only walk in so many different directions before one of them eventually had to run into a wall.

Standing she proffered the bloom she'd selected to the Desperado, one hand behind her back as she gave a small bow. "Beauty for a beauty," she quipped, working hard to keep her face from showing off how utterly ridiculous it felt to say such a thing.

Tark, Son of Keshk, the most lovely of the three daughters, fanned herself with an unfolding fan and giggled as Axod approached. "Oh, Mr. NAME DATA NOT FOUND, would you care to join me in the gazebo for tea and THE DISEMBOWELMENT OF WEAKLINGS?" She bat her long lashes and offered a gloved hand to the man.

The Desperado also giggled, but it was more of a dry chuff of her sandy throat. "You- You don't get it. God, damn it, I thought you chaps were help! Jodie- He was gonna get an army, you need an army!" She repeated a line from earlier, totally devoid of the correct context. Taking the flower, her hologram glitched, causing her to jog in place, a six gun in hand.

After correcting herself, she spoke, this time with an ill fitting Regency actress's voice. "Oh, kind stranger! Thank you most kindly for your gift. As the second daughter, most often people will overlook me. Have you come from the city?"

The glitching of the Desperado raised the hairs on the back of Emni's neck. She knew it was just an error, and a somewhat comedic one at that, but watching the holodeck devolve somewhat as it tried to discern the difference between the two programs and right itself still had an intense feeling of uncanny valley. "I, umm, yes... I have," she told the Desperado, turning to look around her in hopes that one or more of the others had found success in discovering the manual override.

Muttering something about captains and jinxes, Xex left Emni and Axod to the hard work of keeping the unlikely ladies busy while he edged away from the entrance to the mansion, and around the edge of the house, reasoning that most of the action in a holodeck program happened in the middle of the space. His hand strayed once to his belt where his tricorder normally rested but of course, it wasn't there and he scowled. What good it would do him in discovering the manual override, he couldn't have said, but it certainly would have been comforting. “Computer,” he tried, “Alter visuals to provide manual override.” Maybe they just needed to be more specific, especially given the subroutines were unavoilable.

Xex's words barely had time to leave his lips before one of the carriage horses whinnied and hollered with growing horror, as a blue glow ignited around it with arcing bolts of plasma. The glowing horse disappeared, replaced by a switch on a wall clearly labeled "MANUAL OVERRIDE."

Victoria gasped, pointing at the switch. "My god, there it is! Hurry, pull it before Moriarty shows up or something!"

"Excuse me m'lady," Emni said with the best attempt at a regretful tone that she could muster. "I'm afraid I've been summoned. But I shall return anon." Then, without another thought she extracted her arm from the Desperado and made a beeline for the switch/horse throwing it before the horse could reform. To her right the Arch, blessedly, appeared, opening as the door sensor picked up Emni's movement within its responsive area.

"Alright," Emni called to the crew hopefully with as non-urgent a tone as she could muster. "Everybody out."

At the looks of the holographic family standing with them she added, "I mean... just our family... we must... there is an emergency in the city... we shall..." And then, giving up, she offered an apologetic smile and hurried through the arch.

“Qwetha!” Ax exclaimed in his native tongue, pulling his hand away from the Klingon daughter and sped towards the arch. Axod wiped a bead of sweat that was forming on his dusty brow. “Hurry before we’re pursued by Tark, Son of Kesha.” He sounded genuinely concerned.

Victoria fled as fast as her legs could carry her, running through the arc and rolling to a stop at the end of the hall. Inside the hall, she looked back. The sudden activation of the manual override haf created an even more bizarre set of circumstances. The sun overhead flickered, then reset at the dawn, now composed entirely of a Klingon's head, aware and horrified of his circumstance. Tark, Son of Keshk transformed into a horse, and began to stomp a Morse Code.

".... . .-.. .--. -- ." In repeat. A DEEPLY DREADFUL SENSATION FILLED THE AIR FOR THOSE THAT REMAINED INSIDE.

Xex, who had obeyed Emni's calm command, was nonetheless significantly slower than his colleagues-- he really needed to up his cardio regimen-- and was just skidding through the Arch when the strange tapping came from behind him. He glanced over his shoulder-- and immediately regretted it. Tark's strange transmutations were enough to haunt anyone's dreams, and Xex had no intention of allowing him into his own. Grimacing, he turned back forward, trying to ignore the uncomfortable shiver down his spine as the taps echoed out into the hallway.

Emni had remained at the arch, just beyond the door to make sure everyone was out before stepping outside herself. As the doctor and captain exited the space she followed quickly on their heels keying in the door override from the outside. The two doors swished shut on the morse-code Klingon-horse cutting the sound off mid-tap and, if possible, making the quiet hum of the ship's nacelles feel even louder than normal with the removal of the holographic chaos.

Quick fingers tapped the comms link from the exterior of the arch, opening a line to engineering so she could promptly report the issue. She dearly wished she could see the face of the engineer on the other side as she explained what had happened and then sent him the logs from the experience. Closing the comms she added a last few taps to the console and turned to face those assembled. "So... I went ahead and locked the crew out of the holodeck until engineering can come take a look," she said and shrugged. "Who else needs a drink?"

"Three. Three drinks should do it," Kodak rasped, holding up as many fingers. To stave off any potentially questioning looks, the Captain added, "Three drinks should forever obliterate the sight of Miss Tark, Son of Keshk, from my memory." With a warm, affable wave, he gestured anyone interested in joining for an alcohol-triggered memory wipe down the corridor towards the turbolift. "Oh, and Mr. Qo..." he half-turned over his shoulder to regard Axod, "don't take our sudden exit too hard. I'm sure your Klingon belle can be saved in the holodeck memory buffers for another time." His smirk reached his golden eyes as the Captain turned back forward and began to walk.

=/\= Hijinks By =/\=

Captain Bjorn Kodak
Commanding Officer
aka Amos "Dusty" Dalton

Lieutenant Commander Emni t'Nai
Executive Officer
aka Isabella "Bel" Sanchez

Lieutenant Commander Victoria Cross
Chief of Operations
aka Melanie Collins

Lieutenant Xex Wang
Chief Medical Officer
aka Buck "Bucko" McAllister

Lieutenant Axod Qo
Counselor
aka Augustus "Gus" Clay

Guest Starring...

Tark, Son of Keshk
Klingon Castaway
Lord of the estate's daughter
Horse