EPISODE LXXV - A RIDDLE WRAPPED IN AN ENIGMA AND JAMMED IN A FAT ALBERT LUNCH BOX




Unbeknownst to the celebrants or the dutiful staff remaining on the bridge, the second mole was quite busy.  The capture of his sibling had lent a new urgency to his sinister plan, and he was hard at work adding the finishing touches.  He had assumed the persona of Mr. Jeffy, knowing that the engineering officer would be in his quarters for his nightly rendezvous with that harlot nurse.  Intent as he was on his project, he was mildly startled to find a junior engineering officer studying him from across the engine room.  He stood and glared at the ensign.  "What is it?", he asked impatiently.

"Uh ... nothing really, sir, it's just", Hibbard stammered, "well, I don't understand what your doing here on Christmas."

Catching the note of suspicion in the Ensign's voice, the mole let a warm smile spread across his face.  "I'm just making a few adjustments to prepare for out jump to RF speed.", he replied pleasantly, reaching into his pouch as though searching for a tool.  What he produced was not a tool, however, but a splazer.  He pointed the weapon at the bewildered Hibbard.  "This'll just hurt for a second.", he remarked casually as he pulled the trigger.

At the last possible moment, Hibbard dove to the ground, rolling toward the doorway.  The blast from the weapon impacted on a control console, burning a thin hole into the apparatus.  Sparks flew from the console and a thin wisp of black smoke drifted up from the entry point.  The entire ship lurched.  Hibbard scrambled out of the engineering compartment and ran,  keying his com-link to report the incident.

On the bridge they had their own problems.  The sudden strange shifting of the ship had caught everyone off guard.  Spilled food and drink littered the floor, and more than one crewman was attempting to pick himself up from the floor, Ensign VanTedly among them.  He'd become even more intertwined with the strings of lights, and was now bound tight, rolling on the floor, screaming.

"Status report!", Schultz called over the din.

When no response was forthcoming he stepped up to his console and looked at the data for himself.  The readout was a jumble of incongruent codes and unrelated schematics.  He looked up to see the other crew members having no better luck than he.  A hand clapped him on the shoulder.  It was Proteau.

"I just received a call from engineering.", his voice was thin, "It seems that Mr. Jeffy started shooting up the place."

Schultz shook his head.  "That's not possible.", he stated defiantly, "Jeffy would never do such a thing."

"You're right", Proteau agreed, sighing, "which can only mean one thing."

Not being privy to their earlier confrontation with the security officer's kin, Schultz regarded Proteau with some confusion.  "What do you mean?"

Proteau shook his head.  "Nothing.", he replied, "I'll take care of it."

Schultz nodded slowly as the security officer exited, then turned his attention back to his own problems.  "Get me some information, people.", he ordered loudly, hoping that things weren't as bad as they seemed.