Incommunicado – Yeth Mathter
by Lieutenant JG Lance Murdoch & Alderman Yolanthe Ibalin
Post Details
::ON::
"Lance Murdoch!" The sneering tones, condescending and smug floated across the promenade, crawled up the surgeons spine, and breathed down his neck.
"Fredrick Templeton." Lance said, turning around with an expression on his face that was not dissimilar to one you would have after stepping in targ droppings.
Templeton inclined his head, still wearing a smug smile. "Practising on a border outpost lightyears from civilisation? I thought the great Dr Murdoch was destined for better things?"
Lance tiltied his head back ever so slightly so that he could look down his nose at his former med school rival. "Didn't you hear Templeton? The frontier is where all the exciting things happen." He sniffed and wrinkeld his nose in distaste. "But I suppose hack like you wouldn't know much about being on the cutting edge."
But the smug smile remained. "Actually, I know quite a lot, and tomorrow night, the Daystrom Institute will formally acknowledge it when the grant me, Dr Frederick Maxwell Templeton, the Daystrom Prize for Medicine. If you bothered keeping current with knowledge, ou would have seen the article in the latest Starfleet Medical Journal. The young man who interviewed me was very complimentary."
Lance frowned, 'How the Hell did an idiot like Templeton win the Daystrom prize?' He thought to himself. Aloud he said, "No, guess I was too busy saving lives, performing extraordinarily difficult surgeries and bedding an endless stream of women to notice." His frown deepened, "So what brings you to our little border outpost? Has the rest of the Federation gotten as sick of your face as I have?"
"I doubt it, I suspect they'll be quite keen on it after tomorrow. When I pick up the Daystrom Prize for Medicine." The smugness hung in the air. Templeton obviously wanted him to seethe with jealousy
"Well" Lance replied with a carefully contrived bored yawn. "I suppose in an infinite universe with infinite possibilities somehow, somewhere there must be a planet where pigs fly."
"Oh, look, theres a herd of swine requesting flight clearence." Templeton pulled an embossed card from his jacket. "Why don't you pop by, see for yourself."
The card said: "Dinner and Presentation in honour of the appoint of Dr Frederick Maxwell Templeton, MD, FIS, SFMA to the roll of Daystrom Laureates, for his work in the field of Neuropolaric Induction"
Lance frowed at the card, this didn't make sense, Lance had been top of the Class in Neuropolaric Induction. he recalled Templeton barely scraping by. This was arousing his suspicions.
"Well, well, old murdoch finally lost for words." Templeton found this amusing, obviously. "Hope you come along, old chap. toodle-pip!" and with that he turned and headed down the promenade.
Lance watched him go then slapped his comm badge, "Murdoch to Merigor Drull." He snapped.
"Yes sir?" The Bolian said from right behind him.
Lance almost jumped with surprise but managed to control himself. "How long have you been standing there??" He demanded.
"Oh, I find myself on the promenade at this time most days," Drull waved the question away. "how might I assist you?"
"How much of that did you hear?" Lance pressed.
"I couldn't possibly comment," Drull murmured, "But enough to know that Doctor Templeton's imminent elevation is a surprise to you, sir."
"You're damn right it is," replied Lance, marching towards sickbay as Drull fell into step beside him. "That little troll couldn't cut his way out of a paper bag and now he expects me to believe he's won the prize for (X type of surgery)'. He's up to something."
"Undoubtedly, sir." A the next few steps passed in silence. then, "If I may say sir, perhaps a closer look at Doctor Templeton's credentials may prove informative? if such are publicly available, of course..."
"And if they're not?" Asked Lance.
"I couldn't possibly comment, sir, though I'm sure a suitably creative solution may present itself to you shortly."
Lance stopped walking suddenly, he pulled Drull into a nearby alcove out of earshot of any passers by, "You're going to break into his quarters..." He hissed.
Drull gave a wicked little smile. "As I said sir, creative. What should I be looking for, specifically?"
"Anything...Everything!" Lance replied, then frowned, "No belay that. I need his original notes. The ones he based his thesis on." The head surgeon looked thoughtful. "I have a feeling they aren't his..."
Drull nodded. "Then I think I shall go for a stroll round the VIP quarters. I'm sure that you sir will have a very pleasant evening somewhere public."
"I'll be in the box of delights." Lance replied already thinking of a few very pubic displays he would be able to create.
"Indeed sir," Drull observed. "Do have a good night
TBC...
PO Merigor Drull
Medical Technician
DS5
Lance Murdoch
Head Surgeon
DS5
by Lieutenant JG Lance Murdoch & Alderman Yolanthe Ibalin
Post Details
| Title | Yeth Mathter | |
| Mission | Incommunicado | |
| Author(s) | Lieutenant JG Lance Murdoch & Alderman Yolanthe Ibalin | |
| Posted | Mon Feb 13, 2012 @ 9:42pm | |
| Location | The Promenade | |
| Timeline | SD 55 1200 |
"Lance Murdoch!" The sneering tones, condescending and smug floated across the promenade, crawled up the surgeons spine, and breathed down his neck.
"Fredrick Templeton." Lance said, turning around with an expression on his face that was not dissimilar to one you would have after stepping in targ droppings.
Templeton inclined his head, still wearing a smug smile. "Practising on a border outpost lightyears from civilisation? I thought the great Dr Murdoch was destined for better things?"
Lance tiltied his head back ever so slightly so that he could look down his nose at his former med school rival. "Didn't you hear Templeton? The frontier is where all the exciting things happen." He sniffed and wrinkeld his nose in distaste. "But I suppose hack like you wouldn't know much about being on the cutting edge."
But the smug smile remained. "Actually, I know quite a lot, and tomorrow night, the Daystrom Institute will formally acknowledge it when the grant me, Dr Frederick Maxwell Templeton, the Daystrom Prize for Medicine. If you bothered keeping current with knowledge, ou would have seen the article in the latest Starfleet Medical Journal. The young man who interviewed me was very complimentary."
Lance frowned, 'How the Hell did an idiot like Templeton win the Daystrom prize?' He thought to himself. Aloud he said, "No, guess I was too busy saving lives, performing extraordinarily difficult surgeries and bedding an endless stream of women to notice." His frown deepened, "So what brings you to our little border outpost? Has the rest of the Federation gotten as sick of your face as I have?"
"I doubt it, I suspect they'll be quite keen on it after tomorrow. When I pick up the Daystrom Prize for Medicine." The smugness hung in the air. Templeton obviously wanted him to seethe with jealousy
"Well" Lance replied with a carefully contrived bored yawn. "I suppose in an infinite universe with infinite possibilities somehow, somewhere there must be a planet where pigs fly."
"Oh, look, theres a herd of swine requesting flight clearence." Templeton pulled an embossed card from his jacket. "Why don't you pop by, see for yourself."
The card said: "Dinner and Presentation in honour of the appoint of Dr Frederick Maxwell Templeton, MD, FIS, SFMA to the roll of Daystrom Laureates, for his work in the field of Neuropolaric Induction"
Lance frowed at the card, this didn't make sense, Lance had been top of the Class in Neuropolaric Induction. he recalled Templeton barely scraping by. This was arousing his suspicions.
"Well, well, old murdoch finally lost for words." Templeton found this amusing, obviously. "Hope you come along, old chap. toodle-pip!" and with that he turned and headed down the promenade.
Lance watched him go then slapped his comm badge, "Murdoch to Merigor Drull." He snapped.
"Yes sir?" The Bolian said from right behind him.
Lance almost jumped with surprise but managed to control himself. "How long have you been standing there??" He demanded.
"Oh, I find myself on the promenade at this time most days," Drull waved the question away. "how might I assist you?"
"How much of that did you hear?" Lance pressed.
"I couldn't possibly comment," Drull murmured, "But enough to know that Doctor Templeton's imminent elevation is a surprise to you, sir."
"You're damn right it is," replied Lance, marching towards sickbay as Drull fell into step beside him. "That little troll couldn't cut his way out of a paper bag and now he expects me to believe he's won the prize for (X type of surgery)'. He's up to something."
"Undoubtedly, sir." A the next few steps passed in silence. then, "If I may say sir, perhaps a closer look at Doctor Templeton's credentials may prove informative? if such are publicly available, of course..."
"And if they're not?" Asked Lance.
"I couldn't possibly comment, sir, though I'm sure a suitably creative solution may present itself to you shortly."
Lance stopped walking suddenly, he pulled Drull into a nearby alcove out of earshot of any passers by, "You're going to break into his quarters..." He hissed.
Drull gave a wicked little smile. "As I said sir, creative. What should I be looking for, specifically?"
"Anything...Everything!" Lance replied, then frowned, "No belay that. I need his original notes. The ones he based his thesis on." The head surgeon looked thoughtful. "I have a feeling they aren't his..."
Drull nodded. "Then I think I shall go for a stroll round the VIP quarters. I'm sure that you sir will have a very pleasant evening somewhere public."
"I'll be in the box of delights." Lance replied already thinking of a few very pubic displays he would be able to create.
"Indeed sir," Drull observed. "Do have a good night
TBC...
PO Merigor Drull
Medical Technician
DS5
Lance Murdoch
Head Surgeon
DS5