Captain's log, stardate 41235.25.
I almost died yesterday. I almost die every day but yesterday's method would have really sucked. It all started with Fishk. Fishk is our Ferengi counselor and communications officer. She if just awful. The Federation has not had much contact with the Ferengi but I do know that they are a bunch of dicks.
She left her homeworld years ago because Ferengi woman are second class citizens. Supposedly they aren't allowed to own anything or wear clothes. So she leaves her planet, can't make any profit in the real world and joins Starfleet as a last resort. She loves owning things, anything, but she still doesn't wear clothes. I think she is a kleptomaniac. Small things keep disappearing whenever she is around, where would she hide the stolen items?? . . . . Not thinking about it! Not thinking about it!. . . . . . . . . . . . . She is just awful.
Fishk, being the counselor has this idea crammed into her fucking brain that the crew needs some "team building". I fucking hate team building. Fishk thought it would be great if we all participated in a group activity and she knew just the place.
Even though this ship was constructed before my grandfather was conceived, Starfleet, in a gesture of pity, had one of those new "Holodecks" installed on the Hindenburg. I guess they figured we wouldn't have anything better to do. I don't trust the damn thing. It is a room that can simulate anyone or anything and the only thing keeping it from killing you is a simple safety protocol?
The Hindenburg was also gifted with an experimental computer intelligence instead of the standard for the ship's computer. I miss the soothing feminine voice associated with most Starships. Our Constitution class Starship was refurbished at some distant shipyard operated by little pig people . . . I have no idea what they are called. They are crafty little fuckers though. The pigs are the ones who built the computer core. Even with the universal translator the computer's voice still sounds like a talking pig, lots of wet lisping and heavy breathing. Its unnerving. It understands me, but half the time I have to read the terminal to get any clue what the fuck it is saying. Pain in the ass.
Starfleet has been wanting to test the new technologies that these little pigglings came up with, but the theories are so crazy that they are not willing to test it on any ship worth a shit. That's where we come in. Interstellar crash test dummies. The tiny Pig Men attached an insanely modified deflector, an untested warp core design and a cloaking device that supposedly does not break the Treaty Of Algeron. Normal cloaks bend light, this one bends space or some such shit. It all sounds fucking terrifying.
But it is the combination of an experimental computer intelligence and a holodeck where you run into the big problems. So Fishk has the bright idea that the senior bridge officers should spend some time together in the Holodeck. We could play some games and get to know one another. I told her it was an awful idea but she looked like she was going to cry, so I agreed. She was going on and on about how important friendship is and how we all need to learn to love one another to become a functioning unit. Little did we know that the computer was listening and understanding.
So a few of us made our way down to the Holodeck. Fishk chose a program that she thought we would all enjoy. A jungle. A hot, sweaty, horrible fucking jungle. "its gonna be difficult, but it will make us a stronger team" she said. She sounds like her teeth are too big for her mouth. It is not quite a lisp, more of a moist sound.
Everyone immediately begins to complain, Gonzales wants a fucking nightclub, Scrotch wants an Andorian steam cave, Burns wants ice cream, I just wanted them all to "SHUT THE FUCK UP!". Yeah, I yelled at my senior officers and I continued scolding them. It was a bit more excessive than was necessary, I'll admit it. I called every one of them every intergalactically offensive name in the book but it was when I said that Fishk looked like an old leather bag with warts, when it happened.
The trees and branches in the holodeck jungle started wrapping around my body and that mumbley computer voice said "shafety protocolsh dishabled". That is when it started to hurt. All of limps were pulled tight in 4 different directions. The vines had sharp thorns all over them. I started to scream for those morons to help me. Only when Fishk started to panic and scream did the vines stop pulling.
A little holographic pig-man appeared in front of us. In the computer's swine-like voice it said "Doesh thish not pleash you my love? He ish not being a team player. Should I exshterminate him?" It was looking at Fishk. "No! What?! Who are you?" asked Fishk.
It turns out that it is the intelligent holographic representation of our computer, and it is fucking in love with my counselor. Fishk was able to talk the Holo-Pig out of quartering me with razor-thorn vines. It really sucked. It seems that the crew roster and Starfleet protocols were never uploaded into the computer and it took me as a threat to the others and decided to play hero. We explained the command structure and it tentatively promised to not try and kill me in the immediate future.
The computer intelligence has requested a one-on-one meeting with me in a few days. I'll admit that I am scared to death of this thing, it is the ship but it acts like a person. It knows everything the internal censors know. It knows where I am, what I am eating and how big my bowel movements are. It knows what I am entering into my log right this second..... Fuck.
If I've said it once I've said it a thousand times. This Ship is a Death Trap.
Captain Touglas Franklin signing off.
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