Lieutenant JG Regan Wilde & Lieutenant Meidra Sirin [JP] "Best in Show" Act 3
David H
((Risa - Grand Key Resort; Main Competition Tent))
“GOOD MORNING, RISA! I’m Vivienne Zavaroni and I’m here at the luxurious Grand Key Resort at the south beach for the annual Tribble Showing Extravaganza - ‘Furs’. Always the pinnacle of showing season, ‘Furs’ has been a staple for Risian culture and tourism for nearly a decade and attracts Tribble owners, breeders, showers and fanciers from all across the quadrant in three action-packed days of competition. We’re seeing thousands of people in attendance this year and the excitement is definitely in the air! ‘Furs’ is judged on five categories including Best Breed, Agility, Obedience, Melody and the coveted Best in Show. ::Beat:: The TFA judges are about to begin the proceedings and this FNS reporter is on hand all throughout the show to capture the highlights and backstage gossip. Let’s cut to the main parade ring and see some of the top contenders for Best in Show!"
Regan had met with Meidra after breakfast to get into the main competition tent early and secure a good spot backstage. Meidra, for her part, was quite excited to be a part of something so different from the ordered life she had on Resolution. She wondered if she’d ask Aine to come along next time, the security officer enjoyed new experiences and made everyone around her just as excited with her infectious smile.
The atmosphere was electric, even for Risa. All around competitors and event staff were rushing around and directing people to the right places in the tent, and the melody of the tent full of Tribbles was both soothing and exciting.
After being directed to their preparation area backstage in the massive showing tent, Regan turned to his new friend.
Wilde: Have you got everything?
Sirin: I think so, this is our first time, so I’m hoping I’m not missing anything. I can see you’re relaxed though. Oo I wonder if anything makes Regan doubt himself. oO
Wilde: What about you, nervous?
Meidra looked around at the various trainers and Tribbles, feeling quite out of her element. She shrugged, grinning.
Sirin: It’s odd, I’ve been in hand to hand combat with Klingons, and yet I feel a bit overwhelmed being here today.
As a former model on Betazed, Regan was used to the limelight and the attention. Still, he had to admit he did have a bellyful of butterflies today. So many people! He lifted Trevors carry cage onto a nearby table and began rooting through his backpack for all the grooming items he’d brought.
Sirin: Is that all for today? ::remembers that she just brushed out Roc’s fur and hoped for the best::
Wilde: What category do you have first up?
Sirin: I think it’s a dance number of some sort. ::watches Roc bounce up and down in her carrying cage:: She seems pretty excited. ::Roc coos at Trevor, trying to get his attention::
Wilde: I have obedience and agility first. I hope we’re ready…
Sirin: I’m sure Trevor is more than ready to shine.
They didn’t notice their Tribbles deep in conversation. Later, they would wish they had.
((Mini-Timewarp))
Regan was with the rest of the competitors in his category and stood in the tent in front of the judges.
Famed Tribble breeder - Clarissa Dickinson-Smythe - was head judge for the competition. She was a prized shower for many years before deciding to try her hand at breeding. Regan found her to be delightfully eccentric. The President of the Tribble Fanciers Association - Duncan Lovejoy - was also on the judging panel. A prim and proper human, he cast a languid eye across the competitors.
Meidra walked up to see the judging after Roc had easily won the dance competition. For a Tribble, it was mostly jumping up and down while trying to stay on the judging platform, but Roc seemed to have it under control, having practiced to old Terran music from Ireland, courtesy of Aine. She saw Regan and Trevor, giving them a small wave of support from her seat nearby.
Trevor was being less obedient than usual, which didn’t bode well for a competition in which you were judged on your obedience. They were standing at their little table waiting for the judges to pass along. Regan smiled when they reached his table and presented Trevor for inspection.
Clarissa administered the standard checks then picked up the fuzzy pink ball of fur.
Dickinson-Smythe: What a beautiful hue. And a mohawk? Such an inventive use of style!
Wilde: Thank you! I do them myself.
Lovejoy: Certainly one of the best styled.
Meidra had the strongest feeling that something bad was going to happen, but she had no idea what it was. Her stomach started to churn, and her vision became a bit blurred. She could have sworn she heard someone call her name, but that was obviously just her imagination.
Clarissa held Trevor up to eye level to further inspect the creature, when suddenly she let out a piercing shriek and almost dropped the Tribble. Regan reacted quickly to catch Trevor as he fell from the judges hand.
Dickinson-Smythe: It bit me!?
Lovejoy: Come now, Clarissa. That’s quite impossible.
Dickinson-Smythe: I tell you it bit me!
Trevor - nestled in Regan’s hands - began emitting a tinny shrill sound as opposed to his usual dull and soothing coo. Tribbles all around the tent began reacting immediately and started shaking and making shrill sounds of their own. Almost like they were in pain. Their owners and handlers looked to each other in shock and surprise as the commotion grew in intensity.
Roc started shaking and Meidra took her out of her cage, holding her close to soothe her. The shaking only became more pronounced, and Meidra started to worry she was ill.
The rest of the competitors were panicking now, and the sound of confused shouts and Tribble shrieks filled the tent.
Wilde: Trevor? What are you doing?
As if in response, a fiery red aura emitted from the Tribble. The squeals increased and even more confusion erupted as the rest of the Tribbles in the tent emitted the same cruel aura. The Tribbles began reacting violently and began attacking and biting their handlers. People were shouting, screaming and running around to escape the chaos now in the tent.
People started throwing cages at each other, growling like Trevor. Meidra heard her name again and was startled to realize it was Roc. She glanced up at the chaos around her as a chair narrowly missed hitting her and Trevor seemed to be laughing. She ducked as a punch bowl sailed past, Tribbles riding inside like they were relaxing on a churning purple lake.
Roc was agitated, and Meidra held her, cooing to her gently. The little creature immediately started humming loudly, a strong, melodic sound that seemed to grow in intensity, as she started to glow. A pure white light started to seep from the Tribble, bathing both itself and the counselor in a cocoon of peace. She could hear Roc as clear as if she were speaking aloud, and watched in horror as the pink Tribble took control of the room.
Roc: ~Pink one! This is not the way!~
Trevor: ~Silence!~
Roc: ~Meidra, do something, he’s out of control.~
Meidra felt the light surround her even as the screams and flying Tribbles surrounded them. She could see the chaos even if she could not move to stop any of it. Two of the larger furry creatures had torn down the **Welcome to Furs** sign that had hung above the main podium and were bouncing around, tripping people as they made their way through the room.
Sirin: He’s attacking, Regan. You have to get him to stop.
Wilde: I don’t understand?
Roc: ~Meidra~
Sirin: Get him back in his cage before he hurts someone!
Regan held the little fiery Tribble at arms length, as if to give him a stern telling off. Trevor moved like lightning, quicker than anyone had ever seen a Tribble move before. He raced along the outstretched arm and up behind the humans neck. Regan let out a terrified yelp as what seemed to be fangs sank into the back of his neck and into his spine.
His eyes rolled up, revealing a deathly white. The same angry red aura that emanated from Trevor moments before now enveloped the security officer. He stood solemnly like a statue, almost regal as the eyes he no longer saw with scanned the room,
Trevor (as Wilde): Attention puny bipeds! Your arrogance and domination of this universe is at an end...
Sirin:: Regan? ::realization hits:: You’re not Regan. What are you doing? These people haven’t done anything to you.
Roc:: ~ Your anger is misplaced, my friend. Let us help you. These are good people.~
Trevor (as Wilde): Prepare to be enslaved!
The winds started to pick up, knocking over a barrel of premium, Grade A Tribble Kibble, scattering tiny pieces of food like a swarm of stinging insects, getting into eyes, noses, ears. It was turning into a blitz of grain that had a life of its own. One judge tried to put the lid back on the barrel, only to have it tip over and chase him out of the tent screaming for his life.
Sirin: ::to Roc:: ~We’re going to have to stop him on our own.~ ::to Trevor/Wilde:: This is ridiculous, you can’t destroy people over a bad haircut.
Roc: ::to Meidra:: ~I don’t want to hurt the pink one. ~
In response, Trevor caused Regan to outstretch his arm, and an energy bolt erupted from his fingertips. A nearby table burst into flames and sent more people scurrying for cover. The tent seemed to moan with pain, and the wind intensified, sending judging PADDs flying in all directions.
Trevor (as Wilde): I will use this pampered, simpering bipeds body to complete my plans for galactic domination. The bipedal age is at an end.
Red lightning hit the top of the tent, splitting it down the center as people continued to scream. One Tribble bit another judge and he spun around, thinking it was the judge next to him. A punch was thrown, prompting a return shot, and soon people were brawling in the midst of the kibble storm.
Meidra sheltered Roc as she faced down the mohawk wearing demon, determined to end this disaster before they were hurt, or worse, thrown into a brig. She did not intend on ending up in another brig. Addison would have her head.
He was about to let another energy burst when he felt the presence of the one who intrigued him. The white creature with a form like his present one. Roc’s calming energy strived to reach the furious ball of pink but he was resisting. She senses something strange about him, like he was more than she was, yet still, not fully a Tribble.
Sirin: Roc, can you talk to Trevor?
Roc: Give me a minute, he’s gone nuts.
Sirin: ::dryly:: Is that your professional opinion?
Trevor (as Wilde): You… the white one. You are not like the others.
To Meidra, it seemed like the pink fluffball was trying to puff himself up like a fish she’d seen in an old Terran biology text. She wondered if she pinched him, he’d deflate. The sounds he was making reminded her of an angry goat, another Terran creature. At this rate, she was going to have to go to Terra because they seemed to have the most interesting animals.
Sirin: What is he saying?
Roc: Again - need a minute. ::to Trevor:: You can’t kill these people, they are not your enemy.
Trevor (as Wilde): Spare me your sympathy for the bipeds! Why do you ally yourself with such basic creatures?
Sirin: Regan, can you hear me? I know you are in there. ::knocks her fist onto his head:: Hello?? Regan? Come out, come out wherever you are.
Another chair flew by and Meidra was startled to see a judge hanging onto it. Shaking her head, she turned back to the chaos in front of her.
Roc: Save your attempt, Meidra. The human’s mind is like jelly right now, sweet but not very solid.
Trevor (as Wilde): I am not from this dimension. Not from this universe. I am a traveller. I took this form to explore. ::Beat:: I despise this universe. The bipeds way of life. I must eliminate it!
Sirin: ::to herself:: maybe if I zap him with a phaser…..
Roc: Meidra! Not helping.
Sirin: Fine, what if I just did a Vulcan nerve thingie on him.
Roc: That is not what that move is called. And no, you might hurt the human’s brain.
Sirin: Like the psychotic shapeshifting Tribble isn’t doing enough of that?
Trevor (as Wilde): ::To Roc:: You have so much power, white one. So many gifts… Why waste them?
Roc: Perhaps I like knowing the universe I live in isn’t going to implode with me in it.
Trevor (as Wilde): It is not that easy. I have…
Eons of loneliness of this unknown cosmic being-in-Tribble-form had taken its toll. Hate was all he knew. It was his purpose. Wasn’t it?
Roc: I feel your pain. That isn’t all that this universe has to offer.
Trevor (as Wilde): What else is there for me?
Roc: I would be willing to travel with you, to show you all that this universe can give to us. And perhaps, what we can offer in return.
Trevor (as Wilde): You would… do that. For me? ::The pink menace pondered. Regan’s eyebrows arched involuntarily.:: Is this a trick?
Roc: It’s an offer. We can be as strong as we’d like, without destroying all that is. What do you think?
Trevor (as Wilde): You are wise, white one. Together, perhaps we shall learn more of this universe. I accept your invitation.
The little white Tribble seemed to gaze up at her friend and sigh. Meidra couldn’t understand Trevor, but she had heard Roc’s words, and knew that this was the end of their journey together. She hugged her Tribble to her, feeling proud and a bit mystified why Roc would willingly go off with a crazed alien - whatever - was now in the form or a harmless looking pink ball of fluff.
Roc: Meidra, I thank you for giving me a home, but Trevor has given me a purpose. I was never really meant to help those on Resolution. They have you. But this one needs me. I must go with him. I hope you understand.
Sirin: I know you are right. I have no idea what happened here today or how we are speaking now, but I know if anyone can help that….::sighs:: Trevor….it would be you.
Meidra glared at the defiant pink ball of chaos and took a deep breath.
Sirin: She’s made her choice. But if I ever hear that you have harmed her, I’ll find a way to find you. ::her voice softens:: Keep her safe, Trevor. And good luck.
Then, as if by the flash of some all-powerful Q, Trevor and Roc were gone. The chaos and madness of the remaining Tribbles died down, and the fires and smoke cleared like fog on a summer's day. The Risian sunshine peeked through the tatters of the ‘Furs’ tent, or what was left of it.
The competitors of ‘Furs’ began clearing up the remains of the competition, and a very confused Regan stepped out over a fallen barrel of Tribble kibble, his clothes partially-singed, his hair looking like he’d taken 10, 000 volts, and ash smeared across most of his face.
Sirin: ::fighting hysterical giggles:: Are you all right? You look like you’ve been through an electrical storm.
Wilde: Where’s Trevor? And Roc?
Sirin: Gone. Together. I supposed it was fate. Or some sort of practical joke of the universe.
Wilde: The little sod bit me!
Sirin: Well, I’m sure there is a first aid kit somewhere in this mess. Let’s find you a bandage.
Wilde: I’m so sorry. I had no idea my pet therapy Tribble was a psychotic being from another dimension. You think you have a connection with someone…
Sirin: Somehow, I think the two of you did have a connection. It was a bit deranged, and probably the least healthy I’ve ever seen, but it was there.
The remaining judges - head of the TFA Lovejoy and famed Tribble shower Clarissa Dickinson-Smythe approached - each looking rather haggard.
Lovejoy: Mr Wilde!
Regan rubbed his scorched sleeve across his face, to try and make himself a little more presentable. He despised being called Mr. Wilde. It always made him feel subservient, like someone was addressing a butler.
Lovejoy: I think it is safe to say your membership to the Tribble Fanciers Association is hereby revoked!
Dickinson-Smythe: And you can forget about a Breeders License, too!
Without further ado, they left. Moments later Risian security poured onto the scene, along with emergency services, fire and rescue and the very frantic-looking management of the Grand Key Resort. Regan saw the end of the phaser rifle press against his nose and he very weekly raised his hands in surrender.
Sirin: Good luck Regan, I’ll see if I can talk someone into getting you out of this mess once I figure out how far I’m into it.
Wilde: ::Side-glancing his new friend.:: Well I must say, Counselor, this has been such fun! Shall we meet up again for next year's event?
Sirin: Regan, if you even think of getting another Tribble, I’ll find a way to blast you out of this universe myself.
The two friends smiled at each other as Wilde was led away.
NT/END
Lieutenant JG Regan Wilde
Security
USS Arrow, NCC 69829
C237708DW0
&
Lieutenant Meidra Sirin
Counselor
USS Resolution
R239707MS0