Mib Khan, Evil Bastard|
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|Tuesday, October 5th, 2010|
|It came to me in a dream
Khan sat up from his bed in a cold sweat. He picked up his personal tricorder, muttered "Personal Log" into it with a few other words, and got up to grab a quick sonic shower. Clean and mildly refreshed, he picked up his hypospray, dialed it for a stimulant, and used it to wake fully up. There would be no further sleeping tonight.
He then sat down at the console in his room, switched the mode to a higher personal level of security, and began to design what he had seen in his mind. As it was a combination of a couple pieces of existing technology, it did not take long. He requested a prototype to be created, and after a moment's processing, it appeared within the replicator.
Khan picked up the new tricorder out of the replicator. He looked down at it, and pressed his finger against the biometric recognition panel. It activated and a voice spoke out of it. "Self-test complete. Mode of operation?" Khan spoke quietly into the device, "Holographic toolkit." A holoemitter on the device activated, creating an item that Khan had preprogrammed in the design process.
Khan picked up the item, one of the things he generally wanted to have at hand no matter where he went. The blade was a thing of beauty, double-edged and deliciously sharp. It had the right heft. Khan turned in one fluid motion and stabbed upwards, as if to execute a subordinate. He held his final pose for ten seconds. His new tricorder bleeped once; it was quiet for a moment and bleeped twice; after another moment it bleeped three times and the holomatter knife in his hands dissolved into the nothingness from which it had come.
"Battery life is limited," Khan muttered to himself. "Sufficient for the element of surprise, though. I look forward to someday using this for a promotion." He tapped the new tricorder to deactivate it, then queried the computer for a list of items under 500 grams that he might wish to add to his tricorder database. Current Mood: creative
|Tuesday, December 28th, 2004|
|Concerns about the Murgatroid and its crew
The current status of Captain Jellico (sequestered in his quarters and pouting about not being able to kill Commander Storvik) is a near ultimate "hands-off" situation for me. Of course, his mismanagement of his own policies is causing problems in crew efficiency and ship maintenance, but that will be correctable if I can escape his wrath for not being able to hand him Storvik trussed up like a sehlat
ready for roasting. This need for revenge is incredibly unwise on his part...I will be happy to see him gone.
hopefully will lead to my personal preservation. If not, I can see permanent "retirement" in my future...and worse and worse things happening to the iss_murgatroid
. With luck, whatever he's planning will happen soon...I don't even think a stampede of invading aliens would be enough to get Jellico out of his quarters right now. Unfortunately, his quarters are where he is strongest. Let's hope he remains ineffectual and dysfunctional, if I am to survive.
I am being paged from the bridge. Close personal log and encrypt. Current Mood: anxious
|Wednesday, November 17th, 2004|
|Personal log: the orders have arrived
Although I have not yet seen the message instructing me to kill Jellico
, I can tell that the crew already knows. They are beginning to divide themselves into three camps: those whose loyalty to evil_kyjellico
cannot be broken; those who believe me to be the next captain, and are thus kissing my ass; and a third camp, the fence-sitters.
My rigged combadge
vibrates every so often. This lets me know that it is not yet safe to openly plot against Jellico; he still has the Tantalus Field, and is not so insane as be totally unaware of events. Now is the time to find my counterpart and see what they have to say for themselves. Current Mood: cautious
|Monday, June 7th, 2004|
|A private moment with kind Captain Jellico
As we stepped off the transporter platform and headed towards the bridge, Captain Jellico murmured to me, "If this turns out to be your fault, I'll make an example of you. Not to the ship, and not to the fleet. To the Empire." Current Mood: worried
|Sunday, May 16th, 2004|
|First Officer's log, Personal
If I knew this job was going to be this fun, I would have killed evil_storvik
years ago. Perhaps I shall soon ensure that both Storviks suffer an "accident" during their torture, so that there is no chance that evil_kyjellico
can find any reason to pardon him and restore him to this position. I'm not certain why he spared their lives in the first place, but Captain's prerogative (and the Tantalus Field) means he gets to do what he wants.
Once we have reconquered my homeworld, I'll look in on the Vulcans and put my plans into effect. Current Mood: predatory
|Tuesday, May 4th, 2004|
|Mib Khan's Personal Log: TGMR
I sent Captain Jellico a report about my ongoing humiliation of the Storviks
, who had been having sex, transforming sexes, and having sex again. That ponn farr
is a bitch. I named the transforming agent TGMR. It clearly is communicable, as both Storviks switch, when before only one of them changes sexes.
I failed to define the term to Captain Jellico, who wrote a comment in my report and sent it back. The report only said, "That Guy's Male, Right?" I couldn't decide whether or not to correct him. Sadly, due to his protections, I cannot infect him with the Trans-Gendering Mutational Retrovirus, so that Beefcake can bugger him. Current Mood: angry
|Sunday, May 2nd, 2004|
|No More Dr. Nice Khan
I had considered helping unpleasant_ifix
with the torture, but I decided it had been too long since I had caused unwarranted mental anguish. Oh, yes, I had executed a member of my Sickbay staff
, but executions are hard to undo so that you can enjoy them again later. So, I decided to interrupt Ifix at work
. Torture can always be followed up with more torture.( Whistle while you torture...Collapse )
I handed Ifix a isolinear optical chip. "This chip contains specific rehydration solutions for them. There are two different solutions, each optimized for the Vulcan metabolism. Do not drink either of them! Both taste horrible, and may cause digestive problems for you. Give the first solution to both of them until their mucous membranes are 75% back to normal, and then give the second solution to the female Vulcan. She will be needing more...fluid...than the other. If they refuse the fluids, you have my permission to tube feed them. At that point, you should throw them into the same cell and turn on your data recorders. That should prove...instructional." He saluted, and I walked out.
The Mib Khan of the Federation had received a patent for a drug called "extendenafil". It was interestingly useful for many species, but had the additional side effect of causing ponn farr
in Vulcans. This would prove amusing at least, and could prove informationally useful. And the video would sell for pleasing quantities on the gray market... Current Mood: experimental
|Wednesday, April 7th, 2004|
It took more than a day for me to catch up with Storvik's ship
after it emerged from subspace. Luckily for me, it didn't seem like it was going anywhere.
I approached it slowly in the Revenge
. They seemed to be recalibrating their sensors to deal with their sensor-resistant hull. The hull was sensor-resistant, but not weapons resistant. I powered up the Revenge
's disruptor cannons and severed their warp nacelles from their hull. I then destroyed their weapons pods and cut away enough of the asteroid for me to get a sensor fix on the interior.
TWO Vulcan lifesigns? Well, this was a little problem. A fixable problem. I switched over to the phaser cannons, set them to stun, and fired. I held them on for several extra seconds, just to make certain. When sensors confirmed unconsciousness, I reconfigured the holocabin into a operating suite and jail cell combination, and beamed them aboard.
TWO Storviks? I couldn't tell them apart. Even testing quantum signatures proved an imperfect way to determine if one was a native of this universe and one was from my universe. I had to go over to their ship and investigate their logs.
Conveniently, a terminal had been left active. I could determine that one of the Storviks in question was mine...but I couldn't tell them apart. Hrm. Guess I could bring them both back to Captain Jellico. That wouldn't be a problem, as far as I can see. I locked up both unconscious Storviks into their respective cells. No point in putting them close enough to each other to cause mischief.
I started to compose my mind for interuniversal travel. Current Mood: calm
|Friday, April 2nd, 2004|
|Tuesday, March 30th, 2004|
|Keeping my distance
The asteroidal ship that I was following entered the defense perimeter of a heavily protected base. The Revenge
captured the handshaking of the codes exchanged between the ship and base, but could not decipher the contents. Surprisingly, their encryption was up to what I would consider the standard. That was something I could expect from the Empire, but not whoever he was meeting here...apparently, not everyone was as trusting and simple as the Federation.
The ship's computer warned me about the defense perimeter. It was operating on both passive and active sensors, and had enough power to fry everything to atoms. No reason to go in...because what goes in must come out. I settled in to wait again, and set the computer against the encryption to see what it could come up with. Current Mood: waiting
|Sunday, March 28th, 2004|
|What the hell?
The ship that my former colleague Storvik left the Risa system in is a very unpredictable ship. The ion emissions indicate that it is grossly overpowered...but not well balanced. Its speed is completely capable of outrunning the Revenge
, but it does not look like its helmsman can steer it very well. It accelerated from Warp 1 to above Warp 9.9 in under 6 seconds on four occasions
, but then dropped out of warp entirely shortly thereafter. After the third time this happened, I overshot its previous course and powered down to silent running mode. As I suspected, although it had high warp and fast acceleration capabilities along with its cloaking, its sensors were not spectacular. Diving that deep into subspace was causing the ship to outrun its sensor capacity...which meant that even though it could go fast enough to outrun me, it could not do so without having to "stop and ask for directions" every so often...which would allow me to keep up, and would undoubtedly gall Storvik to no end. I am amused. Current Mood: amused
|Wednesday, March 24th, 2004|
|Take the slow boat to Risa
took its own sweet time getting to Risa
. That made them easy to track. According to Starfleet's data, the Defiant
class puts out a minimal ion trail and can operate at extremely high warp. Nevertheless, the trip there put no strain on the Revenge's
engines and they made no efforts to mask their trail. They also did not take a direct route, but communiques from Starfleet indicated they were to be searching for Voyager
and Janeway along the way. It took me a while to search through recent records to discover the reasoning behind this, but I did sort it out of a morass of unorganized reports...some of which were written in crayon and scanned as image files. What kind of crew am I following???( A week's worth of surveillanceCollapse )
The transporter beam trace led to an asteroid, of all things. The asteroid was very difficult to spot with sensors, as it was rich in sensor-dampening material. It then began to move under impulse power, out of the Risaan system! I risked a full power scan of the Murgatroid
, and noted no Vulcan lifesigns. This 'asteroid' must be a ship, and Storvik escaping on it! I quickly set course to follow the ship's ion trail, and I hope to be able to keep up with it. This should prove fascinating. Current Mood: pleased
|Tuesday, March 2nd, 2004|
|A Job Well Done
I was able to tell shortly after my illicit transport
that some effect had been had. Internal comm traffic volume went up, presumably as it became necessary to take crew to Sickbay. I didn't want to perform a direct scan...and I had already maxed out my minimal computer linkage to the computer of the Murgatroid
, convincing it to fail to record the illicit transport on internal sensors, and putting in a false record of a air-repleneshment function during their aerobraking. I'd need better access if I was to do more, though.
Then, wonder of wonders, another open broadcast! Turns out that Starfleet prefers to chew out its officers over open com channels, rather than cracking their shields and bodily removing the officer for agonizer treatments and other sundry tortures. What an odd universe this is! I had the pleasure of seeing my quarry
be verbally abused on screen. I didn't feel safe in attempting a direct scan to see if I could determine whether this was my Storvik
or some other Storvik
. The large collection of ships surrounding the Murgatroid
backed off as the transmission ended, and I continued my download of data from Starfleet HQ. I was theoretically done, but had faked some additional computer problems to be able to stay in orbit near the ongoing drama.
Then my quarry turned and headed out of Sol System. I asked the computer for a best-guess on their route, and it guessed Risa. After a few more hours, I'll attempt to follow, on a different route so that I don't seem to be directly tailing them. I'm curious how Risa is in this universe...at home, it was the seediest house of prostitution in known space. A nice place to visit, but I wouldn't want to live there. Current Mood: accomplished
|Monday, March 1st, 2004|
|Everyone should be allowed to have a little fun
I suspected that if the Khan on the Murgatroid
was at all like me, he'd made some interesting organisms, ones to which he wasn't susceptible. So, I took that and ran.
I sampled Earth's atmosphere for viruses that stood a chance of attacking us, and beamed some into the Murgatroid
. Let's see how things go, shall we? Current Mood: notsonice
|Sunday, February 29th, 2004|
|The waiting game
of this dimension remained active, while information traveled back and forth between them and "Starfleet Intelligence". I had instructed the computer of the Revenge
to crack it, highest priority...but it seemed that SI's cryptographic abilities were so far beyond that of the Captain's Gig to crack their codes. No worries yet...because while they were chatting, I snuck in through a back door.
Yes, I wasn't so stupid as to hail the ship, introduce myself to the Khan on board, and try to work things out. No, I tried doing subtle things, and succeeded in making the computer of the Murgatroid
recognise that they should hail me on a computer-to-computer linkage. Subtle changes in our holographic hull design can signal things to a computer, and that's something they weren't shielded against. And the beauty was, it was invisible to the naked eye.
It asked for a signon...it wasn't willing to do much more than shake hands with the computer on the Revenge
without further authorization. I tried "Mib Khan", which is an alias, and my current password. No dice. Then I realized there would be one thing I could try that would probably work. I used my real name, and my oldest favorite password. Just like that, I was in...but only partially.
It seems that the portion of the system I was in was linked to old data. At some point, this Khan had been given some privileges for system access, and although he'd been booted off that ship
, the privileges hadn't been revoked properly from all ships. This old data was from a worm purge of the records of his previous experience with Starfleet...he'd eliminated his name from the database. A wise choice, especially if there were people after him. And he'd been able to plant records using the worm...useful, that. I copied his program and set about making some changes. I didn't have access to this Khan's data, but I might be able to grab something much greater... Current Mood: devious
|Thursday, February 26th, 2004|
|How very odd
of this universe does not entirely match that of my home universe's ship. The design is slightly different, especially concerning the exhaust ports and airlocks. It looks like this is designed as a standalone vessel, and not as a dockable/detachable component for an Annihilator
-class planet-buster. If this "Starfleet" didn't build the Defiant
-class as the masthead for a 2.5km vessel (as it is in our universe), I wonder why they created it? Current Mood: puzzled
|Crazy women drivers!
I had been in Earth orbit for some days, holding a geosynchronous orbit above San Francisco. The Revenge
was wearing a holodisguise as a runabout, and we were downloading all sorts of useful data under the guise of correcting memory problems from a corrupted computer core. While here, we were tapping communications and breaking encryption on any messages that shook hands between ships in orbit and Earth. I was waiting for someone with a sufficiently high clearance to broadcast their passwords for the taking, so that we could move beyond the basics and get into the real meat of the espionage game. It was only a matter of time.
Suddenly, the sensors indicated a near-collision. Some ship had flown through Earth space at high warp (something that in my universe would mean slow painful death for its crew if they had caused any serious damage to the throneworld of the Empire), dropped into full impulse, and caused heavy-duty ionization in the upper atmosphere. I admired their style, while being irritated at nearly being killed. What kind of maniac was in charge of that ship? Shortly after finishing its flashy maneuver, it rose to a parking orbit very near the Revenge
. It opened a channel...and it was a fully open channel. No encryption at all. And I wouldn't have paid attention, due to the lack of encryption, except that I had focused on the ship due to simple curiosity. It was the Murgatroid
The screen flicked on. Sitting in the Captain's chair was...me! In the navigator's seat was a blonde female lieutenant, which explained the near collision. Over the open channel, my doppleganger sweetly asked to speak to Starfleet Intelligence...regarding the matter of a missing Storvik! I could tell from his tone that the sweetness was fake...and I could not believe my luck. Now, if only I could get out of this in one piece... Current Mood: surprised
|Sunday, February 22nd, 2004|
|We want information
A chime woke me up from my nap. I sat bolt up, disruptor in hand, and scanned the area. Everything was as I'd left it, and it registered to me that the chime was not a collision warning nor intruder alert, but was the computer letting me know that its data analysis was complete.
I looked at the overview. Local political boundaries in this quadrant were laid out on a holomap for my perusal...it looked like something called "The United Federation of Planets" occupied the approximate space that the Empire did back in our universe. The Klingon Empire and Romulans, Cardassians and Ferengi still had their approximate places, although the threat levels detailed on the map indicated that there were major differences in how things worked here rather than at home. There was also one corner of the map closest to galactic center that said "Borg", which was something I was unfamiliar with. Odds were good that I wouldn't encounter "Borg", whatever they were, because they were so far away from anything Storvik would find familiar.
The computer had listed some details about the Federation, including their version of the Fleet. It had raided nonclassified archives, and tapped into several archives with minimal security. It would have been happy to go after other, more secure archives, but was waiting for instructions. I asked it for recent news. The first item on the search, ranked in order of priority, showed me something shocking. It showed me.
Oh, it was clearly not me. It was some other Khan
, accepting a commendation at "Starfleet Headquarters", an unimpressive building due to its almost total devastated state. Khan turned to the camera and publicly thanked Storvik, Lothar, and some others, and wished all who had been harmed in the attack (including Captain Jellico!!!) a speedy recovery. He then tapped his badge and said, "Khan to Murgatroid
: one to beam up. Energize."
Clearly this reality is a close analog of our own. I wonder how it is that Storvik's escape here meant that he could live a pacifist life? With analogues of all of us here, surely the level of violence and destruction means pacifism is a no-go. I'd have to research more before drawing further conclusions.
I told the computer to find out everything it could about our dopplegangers and doppleship, and to head to Earth, maximum warp. This requires closer study. Current Mood: confused
|Thursday, February 19th, 2004|
The advantage to packing for a trip is taking what you need. Granted, Storvik took what he needed...his life. I took a ship, because I'd need to find him.
Captain Jellico had assigned me the best ship he had available...the Captain's Gig. Normally, a Defiant
-class warship wouldn't have been equipped with such a luxury, but Jellico's status meant that he could customize his vessel in any number of ways. Being the baddest badass in the entire Fleet meant getting what you wanted.
The Gig (innocuously named Revenge
) was not designed to mesh with the hull the way that the Gig on a Galaxy
-class ship would. The Gig took the place of the attack sleds in the docking bay, but more than made up for their missing capacity. It had the same ablative armor as the Defiant
-class, but had additional technology incorporated into the design to allow the hull to absorb not just weaponry, but most forms of radiation...including light. When the power was on, the Revenge
was so dark that it caused the eyes to slide off of it...almost like a blind spot, but 10 meters long. The weapons pods included holoemitters, so that the Gig could mimic a larger ship...and since it had weaponry to match a ship twice its length, it had little to fear. The holoemitters also meant that it had espionage capability on a par with the Murgatroid
, although their means were different. The interior was nothing special, to those who knew Jellico...the usual program that controlled the holointerior set it up with bondage and discipline equipment, in gold and onyx. I was careful not to replay any of the Captain's Logs.
Jellico gave me very clear instructions: "Bring Storvik back. Lose the Revenge
and you'll lose any chance of reaching your goals. I'll make sure of that." He stalked off, leaving Stormtrooper Beefcake behind. I snarled, "What do you want, bitch?" Beefcake's mascara was ruined as a tear ran down his cheek. He whimpered, "I wish he hadn't given you our ship. We had such good times there. You'll ruin everything!" Beefcake bolted out of the room as I raised my disruptor. I didn't have time for the histrionics. Jellico's capture of a rogue Q was legendary (and amazingly, true)...and Beefcake's existence was proof of that Q's powers. Once its hoarded energies had run low, Jellico had tired of dealing with a capricious, stupid being, and let Security play with it until there was nothing left. A pity. I'd always been curious about the Q, and having one to experiment with would have been lovely. But I digress.
After the self-repair circuitry had repaired the damage the Gig had suffered from our cross-dimensional move, I set it to begin preparing a data summary for me of this universe. Between the long-range scans, the decryption-specialized computer, and the Revenge
's natural stealth, I settled in for a nap. The computer would wake me when it felt it had enough to get me started. Current Mood: working
|Sunday, February 15th, 2004|