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Old March 27th, 2006, 02:04 PM   #15
startrek76
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Stargate 14.0

For his part, Wesley hadn't wasted any time upon arrival aboard Galactica. The Galactica side now looked a lot like a large closet, crammed full of things. Boxes, jugs of various liquids and fresh raw produce. For the moment it was deserted, but from somewhere through the wide entry came the sounds of voices and happy laughter. Wesley spied a dark corner of the alcove and slid into its
cloaking emptiness just as a pair of women rolling heavy trays of covered dishes on a cart walked through a door at the other end. He watched and listened to their speech, acknowledging his friend's wisdom in procuring for him one of her father's military grade Universal Translators. Starnat's father was a member of Enterprise's marine platoon that regularly supplied security for Away Missions, and so had access to more complex and miniaturized translators. These needed no language references like the civilian versions did to function, and they were self contained in a tiny button earphone that was virtually invisible unless someone were searching for it. The women were yammering on about cooking and what gourmet delicacies the aliens might have. Wesley had to surpress a snicker
as he thought of Klingon Ggaahhh, which the Klingons certainly considered a gourmet delicacy. At least he knew the Universal Translator was working with the Colonial dialect.

Wesley's curiosity got the best of him and he leaned out a bit, eyeing the trays, smelling strange, but enticing food on them. He regretted not being an officer, which would make it far more likely he would have a chance to taste some of those delicacies. Instead, he was just a kid and would have to settle, at this the boy smiled widely in anticipation, for exploring the Galactica without permission, and keep his activities secret -- or face some of those same officers on their terms. Wesley shivered, thinking of Worf again and the Rite of Ascension ritual he had witnessed. THAT would not be a good thing. Not good at all. However, with typical 12-year-old bravado, Wesley took a
step out of the shadows.

Something growled. It was a low, tense warning, something like that which Worf frequently issued to members of Wesley's school class as they traversed the corridors of the Enterprise en route to various locations. The hair on the back of the boy's neck obediently rose as a shiver passed along hisspine, and then spread out through his body, following the boy's autonomic nervous system. Worf
was not here ... But whatever that was didn't seem any more tolerant of his presence than the stern Klingon Warrior.

"Muffit! Quiet!" The growl ceased immediately.

Wesley peered into the room with renewed suspicion. The women had left nearly a minute ago. He was certain this was not the voice of someone with proper clearance. The timber was way too high. It sounded like a kid, a Colonial kid as curious about Enterprise as he was about Galactica? In that
case, Wesley reasoned, they'd have nothing to lose if they knew about each other. He stepped into the dimmed light of the transmat room.

No response.

Wesley stepped around the waiting trolleys and pretended to proceed for the door.

The growling began anew and a dog sprang out from behind a stack of crates to the left of the door.

"Muffit!" A boy slightly younger than himself jumped out and snatched the ... ? ? ? ... away from Wesley's leg where the creature had tried to get a hold of him with it's small mouth. Hey, wait a minute, Wesley thought, something is not right about that -- dog?

"Muffit! No!" The boy held the -- dog -- protectively and eyed the stranger.

Whatever the creature was, it emitted a low, unhappy whine, followed by a very dog-like yelp.

He doesn't look like an alien, Boxey thought. He wasn't three cubits high, had no horns or tail, his eyes were blue-gray instead of red and he didn't even have a pitchfork. In fact he looked like a kid!

Muffit still wasn't sure of that though and tested Boxey's restraining hold on him. No luck, the boss was serious about not attacking the strange smell.

While Boxey was sizing him up, Wesley was also trying to gage the Colonial boy.

About 11 years old, 1.48 meters tall, 37 kilos, wearing a blue, gray and gold jumpsuit like thing that was not too different from Wesley's own Enterprise playsuit. Brown hair and eyes. Wesley noted the width of his shoulders, he might be difficult to take in a fight if it came to that. Well, what
would Picard do?

First Contact Protocols of course. Deciding to take the initiative, as the visitor and potentially the one who could be in deep doo-doo if this went badly, Wesley offered his hand. "I'm Wesley," he said slowly.

The Colonial boy was startled by Wesley's voice. Seeing the boy's shocked expression gave Wesley pause to wonder which aspect of the situation had caused it. This First Contact scenario was not going like it usually did on the holodecks. Were his manners at fault? Maybe kids were not as
free to start conversations here. Wesley had been on worlds where kids were expected to only
speak if spoken to by an adult. Was handshaking appropriate, here? Or was it a sign of agression, like smiling could be viewed as a snarl showing the "fangs".

But that was in non-human cultures, THAT shouldn't apply here. Perhaps it was his jumpsuit? No, that couldn't be it, the Colonial kid's outfit was virtually the same, except for colors ...

"Your from the alien ship, aren't you?" Boxey asked, watching Wesley carefully.

"Err..." Wesley stammered, caught by surprise by the other boy.

"C'mon," Boxey coaxed. "I saw you when you came through the light thing. AND you can understand what I'm saying. Nuclear!"

Wes reached into his pocket and brought out the extra Universal Translator he had brought -- just in case. His movements got him a startled look from the boy and a tense growl from the 'dog'. The Terran boy tried to make his voice pleasant. "If you use this," he offered the earpiece to Boxey,
"We'll understand each other."

Boxey eyed the device, not sure what he should do. Wesley,
moving slowly to

appease the 'dog' reached up to his own ear and pulled the UT out of his own ear, then reinserted it, indicating that the Colonial boy should do the same.

Shrugging, Boxey put the alien earphone in his ear. There was a soft "sluuusshh!" sound in his ear and a tiny tickle in his inner ear. The sound and the sensation were almost instantly gone. Boxey waited to see what would happen.

Nothing happened.

Wesley smiled, "You have to talk to see how it works."

The boy's eyes widened and he smiled. It wasn't a Cylon trap, or a weapon, and it did indeed translate what the alien boy said. Boxey jumped to his feet in excitement. "I'm Boxey! You're from
Enterprise? You're human! That's amazing! You're not an alien' at all!"

Wesley was surprised he could keep up with Boxey's words. They tumbled over each other like drops of water in the holodeck's Niagara program. He found himself squelching the same expression he'd seen on his mother's face a thousand times.

Boxey paused to breathe.

"Yes, I'm from Enterprise. My father was from Earth, and my mother is from another world. Yes, we're humans. I was surprised because you guys look so ...so ... human ..."

"Hey! We are humans!" Boxey said, a little insulted. "My grandpa says you're the Thirteenth Tribe of Kobal."

"No, I don't mean that. There are humans spread all over the galaxy. We say your human if two people from different cultures can have sex to produce a baby."

"Really?" Boxey giggled. Muffit growled again, still not convinced that Wesley was indeed a friend. "This is my daggit, Muffit," Boxey continued. "Don't worry, he's harmless. C'mon. You wanted to see Galactica? I'll show you." The boy walked through the alcove entry and out into the sprawling Axial
Core. "C'mon. Muffit, here boy." The daggit scurried happily behind Boxey, glad to be out of the confined area with all the alien smells in it.

A daggit?" Wesley asked as he followed Boxey out into the well lit seemingly endless expanse of grass, trees, bushes and paved walkways that crisscrossed the Axial Core. He glanced at Muffit with curiosity.

"You don't have daggits?" Boxey was surprised. Muffit growled as Wesley leaned in for a closer look. "He's a robot of a daggit, actually. We don't have a lot of animals on Galactica, there was not enough time -- or space to save many animals. But Apollo says he's an exact copy of a real pet daggit that would live on some of the Twelve Colonies."

"You mean a dog, right? We have those on Enterprise. Not enough for all of us to have one, but we have a few in the school where we can all take care of them."

"Real daggits?" Boxey's eyes bugged out. "Wow! Light bridges, weapons that can destroy Cylon raiders in a flash! Lots of other aliens! AND live animals?"

Wesley smiled , "And other animals, too." Looking again at the daggit, Wes continued, "The more I look at Muffit, the more I think that its a totally different animal from a dog, though he does look a little like a fat French Poodle ..." Seeing an opportunity in the boy's excitement, Wesley made a
proposal. "I could show you around Enterprise... if you want?"

"Would I?" Boxey nearly jumped out of his skin. "That would be nuclear!"
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