Crewman Annamae Barberra - We Are The Carnies
Wil Ukinix
((??? aka “Wackiest Wildest Extravaganzastic Extraordinaristic Wonderland of Joy!”))
Expressionless J’naii: There is a *storm* coming.
tr’Khev: Wonderful, that is another warning.
Kivik: It would seem so. But a warning about what? ::Considering:: What sort of ‘storm’ might these slime entities be concerned about that would compel them to warn us?
Unsatisfied with the expressionless Jnaii’s response, and to get an answer to her superior’s questions, Annamae went on the assertive/provocative offensive to illicit an answer.
Barberra: ::to Expressionless J’naii:: Look, I don’t know if you’re on felicium or something, but-
Suddenly, there was an explosion in the centre of the carousel. That was followed by one of the J’naii on an ostrich in front being hit and falling to the ground, not “looking very well” – that’s code for oO Dead Oo.
The carousel began to slow, as Annamae got off the elephant and squatted down, trying to get some sort of cover while reaching for her phaser holster… except she didn’t have one.
tr’Khev: Get down!
Kivik: Can either of you see where they are?!
The ostrich in front of her exploded into a mess of sparks, destroyed by disruptor fire. She took a quick peek over the elephant to see the source.
Several armed uniformed Romulans were making their way towards their positions.
Kivik: Better yet, any ideas for where to hide?!
Barberra: Uh… Duck shooting stand?
tr’Khev: Now. ::nodding his head to the side:: This way, around the back and then we can move from here. Stay low and follow me.
Annamae immediately nodded, and followed tr’Khev’s instructions.
Kivik: Quickly, quickly! Get to cover.
Romulan 1: Hevam, yikh, u’ryakna draes! Kroiha!
((OOC: “Human, alien[both derogatory] and Garbage person! Stop!”)
The crewman cursed quietly to herself. Apparently, the UT in combadges didn’t work in the fantasy world they were in. She had no idea what they’d just said.
tr’Khev: Lets go. Over here.
Annamae followed her superiors, ducking and weaving through the people at the carnival, who seemed none the wiser to the incoming Romulan threat. In fact, she wondered if they saw them, or aware of the present danger, at all. When Kivik looked over nir shoulder, she could see the look on nir face. Rather than looking back herself, she knew what the meant – the Romulans were still in pursuit.
As they approached the duck shooting stand, the first thing she noticed was that it wasn’t ducks – it was starships. From the roof were tricorders, hypos, and type 2 phasers tied to strings of elastic. But that was where the differences ended.
Because also from the roof were many typical types of novelty headbands. It reminded her of the exact same carnival in Muncie, when as a tweenager, discovering how ridiculous they were and made her look, which made her determined to shoot as many ducks as she could to get as many of the head bands as she could.
Two things happened that day: she became good at shooting the fake ducks, and she discovered a penchant for wearing ridiculous headwear. The uncomfortableness and awkwardness of them made her feel comfortable in her own weirdness, for possible the first time in her life.
Kivik: Well, we’re here now. ::To Barberra:: Do any of these items seem familiar? Or useful? Aside from the obvious ones, that is.
A slightly pleased smile permeated her lips, which to the casual observer could be confused as a wicked one. Was there a difference…?
Barberra: ::small please, wicked smile:: Very much so, Sir.
As Giellun took point and they got closer, Annamae noticed the familiar fake phasers that were set up, ready for the game. It was *just like* the duck shooting stand from the Muncie carnival.
tr’Khev: We need to get the weapons and deal with them.
As they reached for the weapons, crouching Klingon hidden petaQ appeared from the stand behind to surprise them all.
Klingon: You dishonour yourself, little one! In order to win these fabulous prizes, you must demonstrate your skill as a warrior!
Kivik: EEP! ::Dropping back a few steps:: I must… What?
The Klingon retrieved three more of the replica phasers, and *slammed* them down on the counter.
Klingon: Prove your worth. ::Eyeing Barberra and tr’Khev:: Both of you as well. There’s a storm coming, and you three must be ready.
tr’Khev: Of course another game.
Annamae picked up the fake phaser, and flipped it in her hand like a pro.
Barberra: Don’t worry Sirs, I’ve got this.
The Klingon male laughed heartily at them, then pointed at the moving starship-ducks.
Klingon: Shoot three targets successfully and your honor as a warrior will be confirmed. Only then may you receive a fabulous prize.
Kivik: Very well. ::Picking up the replica phaser:: If any of us hits three targets we will receive the, err, ‘prizes’?
tr’Khev: We do not have a choice or much more time.
Annamae looked down the line of the phaser at the ship, and exhaled, releasing any tension she had in her body (which was virtually nil).
Barberra: I’m serious, I’ve got this.
Klingon: Quickly now! ::Looking into the crowd:: The storm approaches. Will you be prepared?
Kivik took aim and fired once, missing the targets completely.
Kivik: That… That was a practice shot!
Klingon: Only three shots left, little one. ::Grin, chuckle::
tr’Khev: So we get four shots total. That is information.
Barberra: Four shots? ::Turning to Klingon:: Hey! It’s meant to be six! I know this, I played this game for *hours*.
The Klingon gave Annamae a devilish, knowing sneer. She simply screwed her nose up at him, and lined up once more.
tr’Khev: Crewman, take your shot, Lieutenant slow down, breathe. This needs to go off as quickly as possible but we can’t be without gear.
Annamae lined up a slowly moving Galaxy class starship, and instinctively moved the weapon slightly to the right of the sight. She fired.
And missed spectacularly.
Kivik: Response
Barberra: It’s okay, I know what I’m doing. Klingon or not, I know how to deal with carnies.
She saw out of the corner her eye Giellun turn to line up his shot.
tr’Khev: One of you two keep an eye on them while I go.
Barberra: Lieutenant, the sights aren’t aligned.
Kivik: Response?
Keeping an eye on the approaching Romulans, she heard the ping of two shots being fired – the second one denser as a starship fell.
Klingon: You are all making progress but you are still behind in time.
Barberra: Oh yeah?
After a turn, another calming breath. Annamae spotted an Intrepid class, an old Constitution class, and a Defiant class.
After a long pause, she fired three shots in rapid succession. All the three ships fell like… well, ducks.
The Klingon didn’t seem happy. Annamae immediately pointed at the Starfleet equipment.
Barberra: You’ll give me one of each, veQ.
(OOC: veQ – Garbage)
Kivik: Response
Klingon: You cheated! That is impossible to knock down all three so quickly!
Barberra: No, buck-teeth, *you* cheated. The sight is deliberately off, by a factor of several degrees to the left. I’m an expert at this game. Give. Us. The. Starfleet. Equipment. Oh, and so I don’t have to report you to the managers of this carnival? ::pointing: I also want the cat’s ears. *Now*. ::to Giellun:: More information for you, Sir.
Kivik/tr’Kev: Response
With a grunt, the Klingon reluctantly handed over the equipment to the trio. And without hesitation, Annamae initiated the type 2 phaser, and set it to heavy stun.
She turned over her shoulder to see the Romulans much closer. She ducked (OOC: lol!) down and immediately fired on one, hitting one of them in the leg, making them collapse in a heap.
Barberra: ::While somehow managing to slip on the cats ears headband:: One down!
Kivik/tr’Kev: Response
Barberra: Covering!
During the fire fight, Annamae noticed something was wrong. One of the carnival goers, holding his daughter by the hand, stopped and turned to look at Annamae, with a stoic, expressionless stare.
Carnival Dad: We are the Borg. We will add your biological and technological distinctiveness to our own. Your culture will adapt to service us.
The man suddenly transformed in front of Annamae’s eyes, as if assimilated out of thin air. His eye became an ocular implant. Components violently erupted from parts of his face. His clothes replaced by the suit of armour built by nanoprobes.
When he spoke again, it was as if an echo device had been implanted into his throat.
Carnival Dad: Resistance is futile.
Annamae changed her phaser to the strongest setting she could, and fired it at the Borg dad. He vaporised into nothingness.
She turned to see another transforming carnival goer, this one a mother. Annamae fired once more, but this one simply took the hit, its shields glowing to absorb the phaser’s shot.
Barberra: ::Loudly:: They’ve adapted!
Kivik/tr’Kev: Response
Tags/TBC!
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Crewman Second Class Annamae Barberra
Science Specialist
USS Kitty Hawk
V239511WU0