Post a Scene

[CoffeeCat]

Like we did in that other thread a while back 'cause everyone needs encouragement now and then (plus, I'm nosy and want to see what everyone's writing)

OK - I've got nothing at the moment, but don't let that deter you.

[Distracted]

Okay. I've never done this before, so I hope no one hates it because I don't wanna have to go back and rewrite it... but here's a scene from my season 6 finale.


“Maximum warp!” grumbled Rianna as she monitored the new engine’s readouts. “As if this were some sort of battle cruiser!” Sometimes her oldest son was just too big for his britches.

She brought up the internal scanner’s datastream and set alarms to monitor structural integrity. The engine might be new, but the ship herself was almost as old as her chief engineer and sometime medic, and Rianna knew from personal experience just how old that was. At this speed something was likely to fall right off at any minute.

She picked up a wrench and had to think for a second before she remembered what she’d intended to do with it. Even at warp 3 it was difficult to keep her mind on what she was doing. The subspace message she’d received from Travis had her rattled. She’d expected a message about wanting to see them again now that the Horizon was frequenting the Sol system. Instead, she’d gotten the surprise of her life. She hadn’t known whether to cry or laugh over the vids of her half-Betazoid granddaughter. The child was so much like Travis at that age.

Rianna finished loosening the bolts she was working on, laid aside the wrench, and yanked the access panel free, climbing behind it to lie on her back and perform the necessary maintenance without even having to think about it.

How could he have done something like that? I taught him to take precautions! And then, to leave his own child on an alien planet to be raised by strangers! She sat up again and reached for the wrench, viciously yanking on the stem bolts that held the panel in place to close it, taking her frustration out on the inanimate objects around her.

Guess not all of them were complete strangers... she thought with a rueful chuckle, shaking her head. He hadn’t been very forthcoming about the circumstances of the infant’s conception, but both of the young women on the vids Travis had sent were very beautiful. It was a peculiar situation, but she seriously doubted that he’d been forced into it.

She sighed and climbed laboriously to her feet with a crackle from her creaky old knees and back despite the ship’s point eight standard gravity. The worst part of the situation, she supposed, was never being able to meet her own granddaughter. She didn’t see how she’d ever be able to go to Betazed. Even after this war was over fuel costs would be prohibitive, and even at warp 3 it would take them over a year to get there.

Maybe I should ask Starfleet if I can hitch a ride the next time Enterprise heads in that direction? she mused with a wistful smile. Paul would probably love to get rid of me and hire a chief engineer who’ll take his orders without argument. Try as she might, she never seemed to be able to forget that “Captain Paul Mayweather” was also her baby boy, and their interactions often amused the rest of the crew. She hadn’t told Paul about Travis’ message yet. His reaction was going to be interesting, to say the least. He didn’t think much of Travis’ maturity or stability, and this situation wasn’t going to help matters at all. Maybe it was time for her to retire. She wondered what the weather was like on Betazed.

[Rigil Kent]

Haven't really been writing in the last week or two. Uninspired, unmotivated, and too busy with other stuff (I hate real life.) Broke out the post-Countdown/pre-Zero Hour fic that I've been tinkering with for a couple of weeks and gave it a good dusting off. I know I posted the first part here before so...

Z Minus Ten

The data on the screen in front of her had long since failed to make any sense.

Giving up, T'Pol deactivated the screen with more force than was absolutely necessary and rose to her feet. As she rubbed her temples in a futile attempt to ward off an impending headache, she split her attention between the plan that she and Tucker had devised to disable Sphere Forty One and the odds of the captain's suicidal run against the Xindi weapon being successful. When that did not help distract her sufficiently, she added an additional level of complexity to her mental calculations by attempting to calculate exactly how much fuel would be necessary to reach Earth from the rendezvous point at warp four. A moment later, she discovered that she was pacing back and forth, and forced herself to stop.

In that moment of weakness, her thoughts drifted to Cargo Bay Two and the trellium within.

Anger flashed through her then, hot and fast, and she clenched her hands together tightly. Her nails dug deeply into her palms and she welcomed the distracting pain. She grit her teeth as her control wavered; for a heartbeat, she seriously considered curling up on her bed and allowing the tears to come before discarding the notion. Phlox had helped cleanse the physical effects of the addiction, but she was discovering that the psychological dependency was far, far more difficult to defeat. Visiting the doctor for support was not a logical course of action; he was, after all, still quite busy treating the wounded from their recent battle.

That left only Trip.

He remained oblivious to the true source of her recent emotional flashes, but had indicated a willingness to lend aid, including today. She knew, somehow, that he would not turn away from her if she went to him. Trip cared deeply for her, even if the exact nature of their relationship remained ... ambiguous. Control wavered, and she felt the overwhelming urge to visit the cargo bay once more. Just to look, of course.

Her feet carried her from her cabin even before she realized that she had made her decision.

At the commander's door, she hesitated, suddenly overcome with fear. Would he turn her away? She had treated him poorly in the past, and if he knew how far she had allowed herself to fall, all in an insane quest for emotion, would he be disgusted? Angry? Indifferent? Her hand trembled slightly as she reached for the door annunciator, and she silently cursed herself for her weakness.

She input the override code, fully expecting him to still be awake despite her orders to the contrary. If she were entirely honest with herself, she was hoping that he was awake so they could argue. It would give her something to focus on beyond the intense craving for trellium and she had never denied that Commander Tucker was a stimulating conversationalist.

When the door slid open, T'Pol paused in momentary surprise at the darkness of the cabin and Trip's unmoving form on the bed. Her hesitation was short-lived, though, as she heard the approach of a crewman down the corridor. Stepping forward, she closed the door behind her quickly. As inappropriate as her visit was, it would be even more inappropriate to actually be seen entering.

Trip was deeply asleep, and she took a moment to admire his features illuminated by starlight. In slumber, the anger and bitterness that seemed to hound him since his sister's death was gone, and the innocence that she had mourned the loss of seemed to resurface. Her fingers trembled as the urge to touch his face swelled within her, and she shivered at the force of the impulse. Somehow, he remained unaware of the power he held over her. Most days, T'Pol hoped he never learned of it.

Especially tonight.

Her thoughts drifted once more to Cargo Bay Two, and she looked away from him. A part of her wanted to blame him, to accuse him of being the reason that she was a fool who had voluntarily poisoned her body and mind. It was tempting to do so, but she knew better.

Without allowing herself to think of the consequences, T'Pol quickly shed her uniform and stacked it on a nearby chair. She slid into the bed next to Trip, drawing in a sharp breath when he instinctively rolled toward her and draped an arm over her stomach. Remarkably, she felt her anxiety dwindle, as if he were somehow siphoning it from her, something she knew to be impossible. Control slowly began to return. She could not stay, of course. It would lead to too many difficult questions if Trip woke to find her in his bed after the way she had treated him lately, but, for the moment, she let herself relax into his embrace. He snuggled closer to her, burying his nose in her hair and mumbling something that she could not comprehend.

Only a few moments longer, she told herself as she closed her eyes.

[Shakabutt]

Amazing Rigil ! i really hope you post it soon man .

Pretty please

[tennisgirl]

More, Mr. Kent, more!!!

[Kevin Thomas Riley]

Indeed! More!

I knew you sometimes are a big softie!

[Asso]

Rigil, you had words of praise for my first "fan fiction".
Well, the thought that these words come from a person who write these things provokes my large pride!
Go, Rigil! Go!

[evcake]

Distracted : I hope you will be posting soon. I've been awaiting the development of your saga. I am a huge fan of this story, and very much enjoy the way you flesh out some of the intriguiging minor characters from the series, as well as the ones you make yourself. The Matriarch of Betazed, for instance. The first Frightening Old Lady.

[Bether6074]

Post an entire scene? I might end up posting the whole story if I did that. I'm actually not working on anything at the moment. I have one or two ideas for scenes, but they don't really fit anywhere. It seems like I'm always doing this backwards. I don't want to stop trying, though. It helps keep my mind engaged with life and all. Something like that.

[evcake]

Post an entire scene? I might end up posting the whole story if I did that. I'm actually not working on anything at the moment. I have one or two ideas for scenes, but they don't really fit anywhere. It seems like I'm always doing this backwards. I don't want to stop trying, though. It helps keep my mind engaged with life and all. Something like that.

Please don't stop trying. I was rereading Elvira just yesterday and thought how good it was. It has a kind of healing quality. Small stories have their place alongside epics - relationships and ships of the line.

Backward? You can write backward? Like Leonardo Da Vinci?

[TParm]

Excelent Distracted, I'd love to see Rianna travel on Enterprise.

Rigel Kent you can't end that there, lets see what happens when Trip wakes up and T'Pol is still there.

[Dinah]

Wow! You both set the bar pretty high.

Distracted, you've touched on a part of space travel that is often neglected by writers. I suppose it's possible for grandparents to live their whole lives without ever holding their grandchildren. I always liked Travis' Mom; I thought she was a smart, utterly competent lady who was the backbone of her family. I'm looking forward to reading more.

And, Rigil, what an absolutely lovely scene. I could see T'Pol doing something like that. She was never really comfortable telling Trip what he meant to her. I also like the idea that putting her trellium addiction behind her wouldn't be the walk in the park that we saw on the show. It's something she should have to struggle with.

I'd say we have some outstanding reading ahead of us. Thanks -- both of you -- for the hours of entertainment you've given me.

Oh -- and please keep writing.

[blacknblue]

The spot was about a meter across, and the same color as the dark volcanic sand. Only the texture varied, and that wasn't by much. If it weren't for Trip's Human night vision he might have walked right over it. Which was, after all, the whole idea.

In daylight it would have been perfectly safe to do so. The Marnik withdrew below the surface at the first touch of the sun's rays and let the loose sand at the mouth of its burrow cave in on top of itself. As long as the light shone Trip, or any other animal, could walk, sit, or even lay down and take a nap on top of the spot with perfect impunity. But when darkness fell and the cool night air awakened the creature from dormancy things changed.

Trip grunted. Might as well get it over with. He needed rope to get through the mountains, no two ways about it. Out here, there was only one way to get it. He looked around and found a rock that looked serviceable. About half a meter across, and as heavy as he could lift and toss without getting dangerously close. Trip hugged it to his chest and sidestepped painfully toward the Marnik, watching with paranoid suspicion for any sign of movement.

As he closed in Trip could see the spot more clearly. Roughly ovoid, it was subdivided into quarters by two irregular cracks. The perimeter was bordered by a wide band of material twisted in a pattern reminiscent of a celtic braid. If Trip let his eyes try to follow any single line he started to get dizzy and lose track of himself. He blinked and shook his head angrily. Tired and thirsty he might be, but that was no excuse.

“Get your head out of your ass, Tucker,” he told himself. “You are not here to admire the thing.”

Trip shifted his grip and raised the stone over his head in quivering arms. He bent his knees slightly, took a deep breath, and heaved it straight at the center of the oval spot. Then he instantly dropped and rolled frantically away as fast as he could. Behind him, he heard a dull crack like an huge egg splitting, followed by a snapping rustle.....

[Dinah]

I love your "desert Trip," BnB. You're really creating a grand adventure. You're also doing a superb job of creating a alien environment for Vulcan.

It's a good thing I'm not a Vulcan kid. I never would have passed this test. I'm a big chicken, and I don't like creepy crawlies or things that might be inclined to eat me.

[Bether6074]

Okay. I'll bite. Here's a scene I wrote that fits nowhere. Who knows where these things come from sometimes. It's un-betaed and unread by anyone but me.


Winds blew violently outside the young girl’s home that night. The noise had awakened the Vulcan child from a sound sleep and now she found it nearly impossible to rest.

T’Pol sat atop her bed in the dimly lit room. She bent her knees, brought her legs up closer to her body and wrapped her arms tightly around them. Her solemn eyes widened as she listened to the sound of nature’s wrath knocking repeatedly against the bedroom’s glass windows. Despite the uneasy feeling that she’d begun to notice forming in the pit of her stomach, T’Pol was simply unable to divert her eyes away from the storm outside. Bolts of lightning off in the distance lit up the night sky, revealing shades of red-yellow that had been hidden beneath the darkness. T’Pol felt the unpleasant sensations building. She was quite certain she recognized this feeling…fear.

Fear. An emotion. T’Pol slid off the bed and sat down with her legs crossed in the middle of the floor, assuming the familiar position for meditation. She would have to do it without the aid of candles tonight. Mother was asleep and would never allow her to burn them without proper supervision. This would just have to do. The ten-year-old girl closed her eyes, attempting to discover her white space once more. Where did she wish to visit tonight? She needed to fend off these feelings, learn to suppress them. At times it seemed an impossible task, but it was a task she knew she must accomplish.

I feel the brisk winds and the chill in the air surrounding me now. White ice and skies tinged with blue. I hear the silence of the land. I feel the frigid temperatures cooling my emotions. Andoria, the moon of Andor. Quiet takes on new meaning here in a place so different from my home world. I am alone and I must learn to calm this feeling within me. Mother has told me so. It is the Vulcan way.

The snow is cold and wet and endless. It has proven to be a barrier to noise for I hear nothing but the beating of my own heart. Its sound dulls my senses—a rhythmic pulsing that lulls me into a relaxed state of being. I feel no pain… no anger… no fear. I only know of peace and serenity.

T’Pol opened her eyes, having successfully suppressed her fears for the moment. The storm still raged outside as she crawled back into bed and pulled the covers up to her chin.