Indefatigable's adventures in the Star Trek Universe
Osiris was not happy.
Somebody had gotten there first, and was walking off with her slaves, her new servants.
How dare they defy her her, she was a God, second to none in this thrice cursed universe, a pale shade of her home.
Even more vexing what that she didn't know how the newcomers were, the boxy awkward and aesthetically unpleasing designs for their ships matched none from her universe and appeared totally alien to those designs used by the races she had met so far. Yet, the sensor readings were quite clear; these craft were shielded and surprisingly advanced for such ugly and simplistic designs.
Osiris was thinking hard about what to do, she knew her foothold was tenuous in this universe, she knew if the local races reacted quickly and co-ordinated she would be in trouble so she couldn't afford to risk those ships she had. Yet, in order to build up her power base quickly she needed beings primitive enough to follow her as a God and worship her as was her right. The only race she had found so far that met that bill was currently being gobbled up by these unknowns, should she fight for them or was it in her best interests to seek out another possible race of worshippers?
“My Lord, we are receiving a transmission from the lead ship”
Not even acknowledging the words of her first prime, Osiris tapped once on the crystal controls at her side, allowing her to hear what the newcomers had to say. Maybe she could arrange a deal, then take advantage as soon as they turned their backs? She could use their ships after all, even as ugly as they were.
Her face blanked, then turned red, the Jaffa around her mentally ducking for cover as they noticed all the signs that said their God was about to blow her top.
“You dare? I am your God Osiris and you will die a thousand deaths at my hand for such heresy!”
“Your identity is irrelevant; you will adapt to service our needs. Resistance is futile”
Osiris blew her stack, “launch all fighters, all ships attack!”
Captain Picard grimaced, his eyes not betraying the glare he wished to send at all the pads scattered in overgrowing piles across his desk. Being captain of a ship provided him with paperwork enough, being Commodore of a battle group just added to it. But to be Commodore of a multinational taskforce… The dominion war may have been over for several years now, but there were still Commodores being chased up for war era paperwork that they quite literally hadn't had a chance to complete.
Picard groaned, aloud this time, gaining a sympathetic smile from the petite Ensign who had just dumped another five pads on his desk. But no, he didn't just have the paperwork from a multinational taskforce to deal with, or at least those parts of it he couldn't delegate to somebody else, he also had to explain in terms so simple that even a bureaucrat could understand it, why their intervention at CT895-XC wasn't a prime directive violation, the inhabitants of the world not naturally having any interplanetary spaceflight capabilities, let alone intersystem until Osiris had arrived. Indeed, their scientists only understood small parts of the technology that now littered their world and even that little meant that the damage was done.
Not, Picard privately admitted to himself, that certain Admirals would ever see it that away. But then, certain Admirals had their heads stuck so far up their asses they could see their own necks, from the inside.
Damn it, he needed to get away from this paperwork. It was putting him straight into one of his rare overly cynical moods.
“Come in” he shouted, a little exasperated as the door chimed.
“Good morning Cap…” Ewing's eyebrows shot straight up into his hairline, “please don't tell me you really have to fill this lot out?”
“Unfortunately yes, drink?”
“Tea please, strong and black” Ewing grimaced, reaching over to grab a PAD to glance at its contents. Smirking, he dropped the PAD onto the floor, “we have this organisation technique in the RSS, it's called the piles technique”
It was Picard's turn to raise his eyebrows, “the piles technique?”
“Yep,” Ewing cheerfully reached into the mass of PADs and began sorting “you create five piles labelled Do Yesterday, Do Today, Dump on somebody else, Consider doing if you really have nothing else to do…” Ewing grimaced, looking to the entire world as if he had just steeped in something odious as he dropped the first PAD into pile five, “and consider doing when hell freezes over, maybe”
Picard hid a slight grin; he really should do all this but…
“Or as my Exec would call it, Reports needed yesterday, urgent reports; somebody else's problem, necessary but not urgent and bureaucratic bullshit”
“Nice as it is to see some if this vanishing, I don't think you cane here to help me with mount paperwork”
Chuckling slightly, Ewing nodded, “No, I didn't. My engineering chief wants permission to talk to yours about getting replacements for spares and ammo used fabricated”
“Granted” Picard didn't even need to think about that, “I'll tell LaForge to expect him”
“Thanks, and if you ever feel the needed for a brewed cup, not this” Ewing waved the offending mug of Tea about, “replicated junk, feel free to pop over”
“I will, thank you captain” Picard nodded, smiling amused at Captain Ewing's back as the Tau'ri officer walked jauntily out of the room.
It seemed even across different universes, some things were constant. Back in his Challenger days, they had called it Red Alert, yellow alert, XO's problem, green alert or normal running and fire out a torpedo tube method of paperwork organisation. Picard smothered a chuckle as he picked up a PAD from the ‘Do yesterday' pile. Yes. It was nice to know that some things never changed.