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"Oopsy Daisies"
Rating: PG Sacred Ground (3) Trip was reclined in the Captain’s chair. He had been mindlessly playing his harmonica for the last three hours. Travis had tuned him out, Hoshi had discreetly turned on music in her earpiece and Malcolm was tolerating it. So when he suddenly stopped playing all three looked at him. Trip was staring at the view screen. The three looked at the view screen. They could barely make out what appeared to be three dark planets. While they were too far away to make out any real details, they could tell there was something not right about them and that there was debris floating around them. “Hoshi, get a tighter shot,” Trip ordered. Hoshi turned to obey and turn off the music at the same time. She looked up at the view screen, watching the image zoom in until they could see the planets better. The planets looked like they’d been blown apart. They weren’t much bigger than Earth’s moon and chunks of them littered the area around and between them. They were positioned in such a way that they formed a sloppy triangle. “Where’s the nearest system?” Trip asked. Hoshi turned to a monitor. “Three point seven light years. It has nearly six billion in habitants.” Travis obeyed and they quickly came up on the moons. Travis stopped Enterprise at the edge of the debris field. Trip cocked his head to the side. “This is a good mystery. What the hell are three planets doing in the middle of space blown to pieces?” The three had no answer so they said nothing. Trip looked back when he heard Archer’s ready room door open. T’Pol and Archer walked out, both looking at the view screens. Trip rose to his feet. “I’m just trying to figure out why they’re out here in the middle of no where and why they look like someone took a twelve gauge shotgun to ‘em.” “Any ideas, T’Pol?” Archer looked back at her. “No, Captain.” Archer looked back at the screen. “See what you can find out about it. Travis, take us in but be careful.” T’Pol walked over to her station and began scanning the debris. Travis moved Enterprise into the debris field, easing around the large and small chunks of the moons. “What’s that there?” Hoshi said. “Full halt, Travis,” Archer ordered. “What is what, Hoshi?” “There.” Archer moved around helm. “What are you talking about?” Hoshi got up and walked to the view screen, putting her finger on it to point out what she saw. Now they could all see what she had. There was an object, much smaller than any of the debris, hidden in the deep shadow of one of the moons. “Throw some light on that, Travis,” Archer ordered. Travis turned on external lights and lit up the darkness. Hoshi fell back several steps when the light revealed thousands of coffins. Archer walked up to the screen, staring at them. They were decorated with a variety of colors, images and shapes. Hoshi returned to the screen, tilting her head to the side. “This one says,” Hoshi pointed to one, “His honorable governor…Heall Huald.” “You can read it?” Archer asked. “It’s almost a cross between Denobulan and Klingon.” “The occupant has been deceased for some time, Captain,” T’Pol reported. “I’m reading thousands more beyond what we’re seeing.” “I think we just walked into a cemetery,” Archer thought out loud. “Shouldn’t we leave?” Travis asked. “Not just yet. What do the one with blue markings say, Hoshi?” “Captain Pere Fortun. Beloved father and husband. He was born in thirty-nine seventy-two. They must be a pretty advance civilization if that’s the right date. He was honored…honored for his service in forty-two twenty-three. He died in forty-two eighty-seven. Wow. He was three hundred and fifteen years old.” “Do you want a corpse transported to Sickbay for identification, Captain?” T’Pol asked. “No. What’s that orange one say, Hoshi?” Archer crossed his arms across his chest, waiting for her to tell him. Trip smiled, sitting back down in the Captain’s chair. He picked up his harmonica and started playing. Travis, T’Pol and Malcolm looked at him. Trip stopped, asking them, “What?” “What are you doing?” Malcolm asked, motioning to Archer with his eyes. “We’re going to be here a while,” Trip said. “He likes to read headstones. Fascinates the hell out of ‘im.” “They’re history, Trip,” Archer corrected. Trip chuckled. “History. I always forget. They’re history.” “We could learn more about the civilization if we could identify the corpses and visit them,” T’Pol suggested. “That would take away the fun. Didn’t you want to finish that report I pulled you away from?” T’Pol raised an eyebrow, looking back at Trip. Trip smiled, shrugged and went back to playing his harmonica. |
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