RP Log: Offensive Cowboys

Roleplay Log
Participants: Hawthorn	Worthington Fudd (NPC)
Location(s): Ten Forward Replimat - Saucer Transporter Room Three
Stardate: 127155.5
2023-07-30 17:14

Ten Forward <USS Phoenix NCC-170100-A>

Although not specifically separated into three distinct sections, the ten forward lounge is often thought to be that. At the entry way and across the inner bulkhead is a long bar complete with barstools, to which patrons can request nearly any beverage imaginable. There is an open area next to the bar before there is a single step up, which results in the second section which has several two and four person tables. The third section lines the outer bulkhead, where there are several relaxing booths, most built for two, and all of which have a spectacular view out the front of the saucer.

"'A couple of food replicators are also available, one behind the bar, and another near the entry door.

Out the viewport: The yellow hue of the nearby star can be seen.

Fudd is sitting at one of the tables with three other males, all dressed in cowboy attire. Fudd says, "Taking their sweet time organizing this spreading of information. But, you can't knock the food or the drink." He sips at a whiskey.

Hawthorn struts into the lounge, her usual half scowl present on her face. She makes a B-line for a stool at the bar, takes a few seconds to climb up onto the damned thing, and interrupts the bar tender's conversation with another patron to order her drink. She wiggles around a little to get comfortable on the stool, crosses her legs, then scans the lounge as she impatiently waits for her drink to arrive. Her eyes fall on the cowboys and she blinks a couple of times quickly, then squeezes her eyes shut for a second and opens them again to make sure they aren't fooling her. "What the hell?" she whispers to herself. The bar tender sets her drink at her elbow and she turns to him and asks, one hand gesturing to the cowboys, "Those guys just come out of the holodeck or something?"

One of the cowboys slaps his own thigh and wolf whistles, "Now there's a woman." He looks to stand up from the table and approach you at the bar when Fudd gives him the calm down motion. Fudd says, "You'll have to excuse my friend's manners, but none of us have seen the likes of such a beautiful lady, such as yourself."

Worthington enters 10 forward and lets his gaze scan the room. He spots the cowboys and walks over.

"you don't have women where you come from?" Hawthorn asks with some unconcealed sarcasm. "I find that hard to believe." She glances at the approaching Starfleet guy and picks up her drink from the bar.

Fudd himself gets the sarcasm, but one of the cowboys does not. "Of course we do, just none of them look as fine as you." Fudd once again excuses his companion. "My apologies dear lady, we will refrain from bothering you further."

Worthington walks over. "What's going on gentlemen?" he asks. He notices the civilian scientist. "Ah, Doctor Hawthorne. You've met our guests from the surface I take it?" he asks.

Hawthorn eyes the cowboys, then glances at the windows and the long curve of the planet visible below. "From the surface, is that where they're from?" she asks. "I thought they just came out of the holodeck and decided to stay in character for a while." She sips her drink, not looking at the Lieutenant Commander.

Fudd asks, "Holodeck?"

Worthington responds. "We use it for entertainment sheriff," he says. "Imagine a room, say, 30 to 50 feet high and a decent length and width. Inside that room, the computer, that's this device that controls a lot of the other tech on this ship, can use other technology to trick your senses into believing you're entirely within a virtual world. You can create just about anything you can imagine. It's foremost uses are education and entertainment." He turns to Hawthorne. "My apologies if any of them bothered you doctor. Please understand, their society has not had contact with broader humanity for 7 centuries, so their customs are a bit different from our own." He looks between them. "Sheriff Fud, allow me to introduce Doctor Hawthorn, one of the civilian scientists aboard. Doctor, this is sheriff Fud of the town of Duhring, along with 3 of his associates."

Hawthorn looks over the cowboys again. "700 years, huh?" she asks, but doesn't expect an answer. "Well, that would certainly explain some things" She sips her drink while also waving a hand in a dismissive gesture. "I'm not bothered, just confused. Though somewhat less so now," she adds. To Fudd she asks, "What the hell have you been doing for the past 700 years?"

Fudd removes his hat and bows to Hawthorn, "My pleasure to meet your acquaintance, ma'am. My name is Elmer, Elmer Fudd." he returns the hat to his head. The three cowboys chuckle to themselves, "Smooth, Elmer. Er Sheriff." Fudd replies to Hawthorn, "I'm not 700 years old ma'am, I'm only 38. Although we've been informed some on this ship are 600 years old, or better."

Worthington nods. "Their ancestors lived in a colony town called Springfield back on Earth. 7 centuries ago, they were forcibly kidnapped and transported offworld by a kuvassian ship. Their disappearance was written off as a native American attack, as such attacks were common during that time period. It is not until we arrived here that the truth was discovered," he says.

Hawthorn tries not to let her impatience show. "Alright, then what have your people been doing for the past 700 years?" she clarifies.

[Worthington's Commbadge] Incoming communication request from Coil.

Worthington steps to the side. "A moment," he says, pointing to his chirping badge. He taps it, turning from the group.

[Worthington's Commbadge] Opening communications channel from Coil.

Worthington says, "worthington here."

[Worthington's Commbadge] Kellen says, "James, it's Kellen. Can you swing by my office? I'd like to ask a favor."

Worthington considers that. "I can," he says. "Just please give me a moment. I don't want to be rude to our guests and doctor Hawthorn. I will be there soon."

Two of the cowboys chime in, "We revolted against our oppressors." Pleased with their choice of words. Fudd adds, "It is true, when we first crashed on our world, our ancestors, lead by William Duhring, revolted against our Kuvassian slavers."

[Worthington's Commbadge] Kellen says, "Ok, Coil out."

[Worthington's Commbadge] Connection from Coil terminated.

"Oh, well good for you," says the tiny scientist. "It's always good to throw off the heavy hand of oppression." She nods approvingly and sips her drink.

Fudd asks Worthington, "Officer. Is the plan in place yet for spreading the word of your arrival and willingness to take us to Springfield, Earth?"

"You want to go to Earth?" Hawthorn says with some surprise. "What about your lives here?"

Fudd says, "I'm due to retire soon, and would prefer someplace that wasn't so dry and dirty. I've seen pictures of Earth, and it is very appealing." The three cowboys say, "When the Kuvas are all gone, we won't have much fun anymore. Ain't no cattle to rassle, last ones died out a few seasons ago." Fudd nods to Worthington.

Worthington nods to hawthorn. "It's a class H environment doctor," he says, making ready to leave. "The resources are scarce, and in those 7 centuries, there hasn't been practically any technological development. Surface water is lacking as well. Seems their food supplies are shrinking too, given that statement about the cattle." He nods to each. "Doctor, sheriff," he says finally, before making for the door. "I'll be back soon."

Lieutenant Commander Worthington goes Out.

Hawthorn doesn't look at Worthington, only waves him away dismissively with one hand. "Won't you miss the... Kuvas?" she asks.

Fudd says, "The Kuvas are the ones, well their ancestors are the ones that took us from Springfield, Earth in the first place. Our oppressors. Our laws have deemed them less than humans." He looks around ten forward at some of the many non-humans aboard, "I regret we have not treated them kindly. What my friend here means is, he found it sport to hunt for Kuvas."

Hawthorn nearly chokes on her drink. She dabs her lips with the back of her hand and sets her drink down on the bar, then stares at the boastful cowboy. "Hunting them? As in, running them down and killing them?" There's unmistakable ice in her tone.

The cowboy gulps and goes back to his drink. Fudd nods slowly, "Yes, that is exactly what I mean. We had no laws against it." He shakes his head, "But that was no excuse, I knew it was wrong, but let it go under my watch as sheriff." He tips his hat, "My apologies, ma'am. My friends and I will leave you be. We've disturbed you again, and in another manner altogether."

Hawthorn opens her mouth as if to respond, but no words come out. She just gapes for a few moments at the group of cowboys. Then, her face darkens and her jaws snap shut as a grim expression takes the place of her shocked one. She climbs down off of her stool and smooths her coat over her hips. She takes a couple of slow steps toward the table where the cowboys are sitting, shooting a challenging look at each of them in the eyes. She ends on Fudd, holding his gaze for a little longer than the others. Her angry breaths come in a fast tremble and her hands ball into fists. But instead of saying anything more, she turns quickly away and stalks out of the lounge, the doors barely opening in time to let her pass through. A big maintenance engineer in the corridor outside has to jump out of her way to avoid being plowed over by the tiny woman. The doors swoosh closed behind her and she's gone.

Lieutenant Commander Worthington arrives from Deck 10 - Forward Corridor.

Fudd and the trio have been discussing something with themselves. Fudd turns to you two, "I think its time we returned to Duhring, and begin spreading the word."

Worthington enters and nods to them. "Agreed," he says. "We can stop by the replimat and get your people situated with communicators, then beam you back down," he says.

Fudd says, "We will need lots of pictures of Earth as well. The more the better."

Worthington nods. "Follow me then," he says, leading the way out.

Worthington looks around the room as the door opens. "We call this a turbolift," he says. "Perhaps you've seen them already." He addresses the computer.

Worthington says, "deck 9"

Replimat - Saucer <USS Phoenix NCC-170100-A>

This facility exists to allow crewmembers to replicate those items that cannot be replicated in the food replicators that are a common feature of all Federation starships. A number of replicating tables of various sizes are arranged around the room, ranging from a small alcove in a bulkhead to a large table set into the center of the room. Each table is equipped with a console allowing fine tuning of replication procedures, as well as item fabrication subroutines.

Fudd and the cowboys trail behind you. You almost lost them in the mall, "I thought you said we were in space. This is some sort of massive building."

Worthington nods. "This ship is," he tries to put it into terms, "Like, half a mile long or more. It's big, very big." He jestures around. "Computer," he says, "Replicate, how many pictures do you think we need?" he asks fud.

Fudd has no clue, he also has no clue how many people there actually are on the surface. "A few hundred?"

Worthington considers. "There are around 11000 people, close to 12 actually, on the planet. Computer," he says. "Let's start with, 400 pictures of Earth." He inputs the picture from his padd.

"12,000?" Fudd replies, "I had no idea."

Worthington nods. "It's a big planet, and your people seem to have spread out," he says. "We noticed around 12000 or so human life signs."

Fudd shrugs, "If you say so, but no way us four can talk to all them folks."

Worthington nods. "No, but you could recruit other groups that could recruit other groups and so on. Also, you need only ride to a single town once, maybe twice. We could mark coordinates for transport, and getting back to Duhring would be as simple as having yourselves and your horses transported there," he says.

Fudd nods, only partially understanding. "Now what?"

Worthington looks at the giant pile of pictures. "Let's distribute these, 100 each," he says, jesturing. He then replicates 4 commbadges and gives them out to each of the men.

Replicator whirrs and beeps until Starfleet Commbadge (30379) (#30379) appears in the dispenser.

Lieutenant Commander Worthington hands you Starfleet Commbadge (30379).

Fudd adjusts the commbadge and it beeps at him. "What did I do?"

Worthington nods. "Oh, it's now registered to you individually," he says. "Links you to the computer. Granted, your access is rather limited as you're not actually crew aboard, but you will be able to use that as I taught you to communicate with us."

Fudd nods slowly, "Tap it once and speak to it. Tap it twice to turn it off."

Worthington nods. "And just tell it who you want to talk to," he says. "You and your people ready to beam down? We can put you down anywhere in Duhring.

Fudd looks at the others, they all nod. "Yes, we've out stayed our welcome here, and have a lot of work to do."

Worthington nods. "Well then, follow me, closely now, and we'll get you back down," he says.

Transporter Room Three <USS Phoenix NCC-170100-A>

The first feature of this room that catches one's eye upon entering is the large circular dais located to the left of the entrance. The transporter platform is marked with placeholders for six people, and the ceiling above is fitted with a variety of equipment to aid and assist the transport process, as is the platform itself.

Opposite the transporter platform on the other side of the room is the transporter control console, which bestows the system operator with a variety of tools to fine tune the process. The curved console is set into a circular platform, in much the same manner as the transporter system itself.

Fudd and the three cowboys follow you in.

Worthington nods to them and points to 4 transporter pads. "If you gentlemen could stand there please?" he asks. "Anywhere particular in town you'd like to be dropped? Could put you down in main street, the jailhouse, an empty shop," he says. He has a thought, and nods before stepping away. Upon his return, he has the fire arms belonging to each of the men. He returns them their weapons.

Fudd and the others step onto the transporter padd.

Fudd accepts the weapons and checks them over, "Ready"

Worthington locks everything in. "Keep in touch," he says. "If you see anyone hostile, you may want to hide those communicators. You can stuff them in just about any pocket or pin them anywhere on clothing." He waves. "If you need anything, just holler up here and we'll get it to you. Good bye, and may we meet again."

Swirls of energy whip around your deconstructed body. Shimmering lumination dances about your form uncontrollably, dazzling every sense.