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1stLt Wes Greaves - Great Balls of Fire

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Just stop.

You've managed to found a GREAT example of a sim. One that have made me smile and chuckle all the way. One that mix the joy and silly parts you sometimes see in a Star Trek show and, at the same time, keeps being AWESOME. And Mister @Wes Greaveshas managed to do this he alone so...








((Ferenginar, Outskirts of Upper Bowog Bay, . Late evening ))
A street race.  If someone had asked Wes what was the very last thing he expected a Vulcan Doctor to suggest, a street race on Ferenginar would have topped the list of “there’s no way”.  Then to find that not only their physician but their chief engineer had thrown down the gauntlet together, well it all made Wes drastically reconsider his assessment on Vulcan spontaneity. Particularly the spontaneity of drunk Vulcans.  


What had started as Alieth’s offhand comment about the crew’s new-to-them grav bikes had quickly spiraled into an opportunity to mercilessly hound the intoxicated woman until she committed to her half-baked idea.  Now in the pouring rain, he began to regret his campaign to ensure the race actually occurred.


The droplets fell like fat, wet, rocks, seeming to ping off the Marine’s sleek black and red racing gear.  The Ferengi he bought the suit from assured him that not only would it match the red racing bike, but it would also decrease drag, protect him from debris, and keep him mostly dry.  Now that he was wearing it, Wes was pretty sure it was just a scheme to get the salesman some extra latinum and drum up a good excuse for others to place bets on the Marine.  He did look fast after all.


From his perch on to the side of the starting line Wes examined his position.  As soon as it became apparent that the pair of Vulcan officers intended to modify their bike, Wes had raced down to the Marine Deck and enlisted the help of the detachment’s combat engineers.  While only half had been around at the time, getting the group to help was simple.  The man simply had to explain that the officers of Medical and Engineering thought they could dare challenge the Marines.  Wes practically had to beat back the number of volunteers with a stick.


Now, kneeling over open panels in the SAG in the soaking rain with eager smiles, two of his combat engineers argued over a modification they were working on.


Cooland:  Are you crazy!  It’s already front heavy as it is. If we throw another power cell in the front the Lieutenant’s gonna be riding a supped-up plow!


Porter:  No way man, we’ll just reroute some of the extra power to front grav thrusters to compensate.  Plus, there’s no way the inducer coil is going to run for longer than a few seconds without it.


Cooland:  Even if we could compensate, he’ll be riding on a freakin powder keg.  Are you going to explain to the skipper how we cooked the Platoon Commander when it goes up in flames?


A shiver ran down Wes’s spine and he chose to walk away from the conversation before he learned so much that he refused to ever get within 20 feet of the bike again.  He instead paced over towards where Alieth and Sirok were finishing their own modifications. Doing his best to look inconspicuous in his very conspicuous outfit, the man eavesdropped on his opponents.


Alieth:  How the modifications progress?

Sirok: For this race, finished. :: He kept to himself his opinion on what should be done with those particular SAGs.::

Alieth:  I see (wiping the rain off her face) what advantage will that give us?

Sirok: I have tried to stay within the basic characteristics of the vehicle, but I have improved the drive system to give a higher cornering speed, as well as more top speed time. I have placed several sensors inside to control all technical aspects, I will be able to guide you if you need to make any adjustments during the run. :: Besides being able to obtain performance data for the future design of a SAG under Starfleet standards.::


Wes frowned given the new information, and upon a sideways glance from Sirok, he turned away as if engaged in enthusiastic conversation with a Ferengi.  Fortunately further off in the crowd, a rabble-rouser hurled some words of encouragement.

Ferengi 1: Hey! Vulcans! I have bet two bars of latinum that you will crash the human into a tree, don't even think about failing, or you will have to deal with my lawyer!

Images of Wes colliding with a tree followed immediately by a plume of orange and yellow flame ran through his mind. Maybe his bike would explode if he hit a tree?  Wes hoped against hope that his two Marines figured out their power supply issue before the race started.  He tried to push the thought from his mind as he strolled back over toward the Red Rocket. Porter has just sealed the last panel as Wes walked up again, with the third Marine nowhere in sight.


Greaves:  Where’d Cooland go?  


Porter:  Ah, he got his feelings hurt and went off to pout. ::Toothy grin:: Don’t worry sir. I got you.  You’re all set.  Let’s do this!


Before Wes could ask whether he needed to change into something more flame retardant, one of his opponents cut him off.

Alieth: Ready to start, Mr. Greaves? Or have you decided to give up?


Sirok raised an eyebrow, it seemed that the doctor was using Sobok's advice not to support a comrade but to undermine the morale of a rival. In any case, he did not care about the result of the race, but about the performance of the vehicle and the data he could get from it and from others.


Greaves : Whoa, Doc. When did you learn how to talk smack? I know you didn’t have time to learn this morning with the migraine you must have woken up with!  We’re ready to rock over here!


Alieth: Response


Wes anxiously glanced over at Porter who gave him two thumbs up and a wink.


Sirok: Do you need me to check your vehicle?


Greaves: And let the competition see what we’ve got hiding up our sleeve? Unless you’re going to let us check your work, there’s no way! Keep your nose in your own SAG.


Sirok: Response


Alieth: Response?


A small drone whizzed by close overhead and the crowd swelled in volume.  It seemed that the call for initial bets had closed and a hurried Ferengi rushed over to the starting line.


Race Organizer:  It’s time to start! The patrons are getting impatient and all of the bets are in.  You’ve got two minutes before we start. ::jabbing a finger toward Alieth:: If you’re not ready to go in time we’ll seek recompense as stated in the contract!


Sirok/Alieth: Response


Another drone soared by and Wes realized the small flying machines weren't courier drones but were cameras.


Greaves: Wait a sec Alieth.  ::exasperated:: It this being televised?!  


Sirok/Alieth: Response


Wes jogged back toward his SAG shaking his head.  A competitive pair of Vulcans. Now he’d seen everything.   Wes snapped his racing helmet into place and a small HUD activated in his visor.  The Marine smiled at the handiwork of the modifications the crew had made in such a short time.  Porter helped Wes onto the bike and got the thrusters started. With a low hum, the SAG hopped gingerly off the ground, albeit with a slight forward tilt.


It took no time at all to finesse the bike to the starting line where Alieth waited atop her own.  A gleeful smile played across his face as Wes revved the engine and winked at Alieth.  The crowd swelled again as an announcer counted off toward the start of the race.  


From behind the pair of racers, Corporal Cooland ran down a small hill toward the starting line waving his arms and shouting something indistinct.  Unfortunately for Wes, he didn’t hear, nor see the Marine behind him. With the wave of a flag, a cheer from the crowd, and a roar of engines, the contenders shot off onto the course.



1st Lieutenant Wes Greaves
Marine Officer
USS Thor - NCC 82607

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Awe, thanks Alieth.  This one had me smiling the entire time I was writing.


Oh, and thanks to the crew of the Veritas for giving Lieutenant Commander Teller the opportunity to take these grav bikes back to the Thor!

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