A Meeting of the Mindless

Posted on Thu Sep 8th, 2011 @ 7:31am by Lieutenant Colonel Anastasia DeVries & Lieutenant Chet McChet & 1st Lieutenant Lukas DeVries & Petty Officer 2nd Class Todd Sweeney

Mission: Tomorrow's Arizona
Location: Mess Hall
Timeline: Current

It was hard to explain exactly what it was that kept bugging the Executive Officer in all moments of her waking hours - in fact if she were to be so bold she would have to further admit that her sleeping hours were just as complicated as those that she could remember clearly and without so much doubt. At first she chalked it up to experiencing another time line but considering she had been down that road a few times before she wasn't holding much stock in that possibility. The other forefront opinion could have been the Borg they were currently 'hanging' out with... but those too she was rather familiar with so once again she was left to pushing them towards the side. Realizing she was out of things to blame, she opted instead for an impromptu meeting with her less than favorite people.

"So... there's something wrong. I can't figure it out," she announced to the other three members of her assembly.

From his own seat, on the far end of the table, Lukas S. DeVries raised an inquisitive brow at his mother's words. She was not one to quite so easily admit she was having difficulties in well... anything. "What do you mean... wrong?"

"I mean... with this entire production! It's not the time travel... it's not the Borg... I just don't know. Something is certainly off," she continued, tapping her fingernails in near perfect rhythm against her coffee mug.

Sharing a quick glance with each other, both Todd L. Sweeney and Just Chet C. McChet eyed the woman with wonder. "Section 31," they retorted almost in unison.

Blinking as a wave of creepiness washed over her at what she just witnessed, Stace S. DeVries sighed and nearly demolished the entire pot of coffee that resided in front of her. While there was no use in denying that the involvement of the section and their bastards of agents did indeed annoy her to some degree she wasn't quite sure if that was the problem either. Although... "Did you ever meet the director?" she questioned, eyes locked onto her son.

"Me?" Lukas sputtered. "Are you kidding? I barely met anyone outside of my assignment. They said it was part of the secrecy concerning the organization... and that one day I would be rewarded with those honors."

Stace ran a hand down her face. "Seriously? Who told you that crap?"

"I think his name was... Sucha... Sucka... Sandwich?" the young man shrugged with mild embarrassment. "I don't remember that far back."

Sandwich? Really? "Great..." she muttered as she toyed with the mug once more.

"Although I did overhear one guy mention something about the man of secrets... but I have no clue what the hell that is suppose to mean," Lukas interjected trying to ease his mother's irritation.

Her hand froze then - her fingertips coming to a sudden halt upon the ugly chipped porcelain beverage vessel. Surely, he had been mistaken. "What?"

Straightening himself in his seat, Lukas cleared his throat as all three sets of eyes now came to rest solely on him. "I said... I heard someone mention the man of secrets... but I never saw such a person... and no one really revealed much else. I never got told any of that stuff."

The man of secrets. Just what exactly was going on? "You're sure? One hundred percent positive?"

"Of course," the marine snapped - frustrated by the makeshift interrogation of his memory. "It was odd, so it stuck out. I just never talked about it before because it was vague and didn't offer much substance."

Stace rose from the table then, her hand retracting from the mug with such speed it nearly propelled itself in the direction of Chet's head. "Very well. I suppose I have some sort of answer then. I want you guys to return to your stations and get them ready for... well... whatever. I need to do some... additional research."

She didn't bother to wait for any ifs, ands or buts as she turned abruptly on her heels and made a bee line for the exit door that deposited her quickly into the corridor. Once separated from the others, she calculated things momentarily within her head before she found herself on a direct path to the nearest Borg aboard. Somehow, she couldn't quite believe what she was about to do. Never once had she visualized herself to be that obscene. However, things weren't exactly kosher to begin with she supposed and perhaps that reasoning alone made what she was about to do all the acceptable.

"You, Borg," she greeted mechanically, "we need to 'talk'."