Further Down The Rabbit Hole

Posted on Sun Jun 24th, 2012 @ 8:50am by Captain Li Hawke & Commander Oralia Zeferino & https://starbase900.info/index.php/personnel/character/23

Mission: Sections of the Delta Quadrant
Location: South of the Equator

"...yeah, yeah, so's 'den I tells her: 'Naw-uh-uh, honey, 'dats not all the bad nooz! 'da rist is 'dat ol' Lemmy t'aint gots no cr'did chip!" Lemmy, one of the lowest of the low in the district of the Space Station that inhabitants had dubbed 'South of the Equator' because it was so far 'south' of everything else (and certainly south of the station's 'equator'), howled with laughter at his own story of how he'd cheated one of Seyla's girls, even though the story wasn't very funny at all. Particularly since it exposed the fact that ol' Lemmy had a communicable disease. He clapped his buddy on the shoulder and hauled him into a one-armed, amicable hug as he laughed.

Tater, so named because his repeatedly broken nose now was the spitting image of a potato, grimaced at the hug and did his best not to breath in Lemmy's airpspace. It was impossible to do without gagging and insulting his friend was the last thing he wanted to do. He was familiar with this story, having heard it a dozen times, not only from Lemmy, but Seyla too. She was, in fact, the reason he now had his current nickname. He politely disentangled himself from Lemmy and smoothed his ragged shirt.

"Well, look at it this way, Lem, my friend. It's the gift that keeps on giving."

"Wut's da giff 'dat keeps on givin'? If'n you gots sech a giff, you gotta share!" Lemmy rounded on his friend and nearly poked a finger right up Tater's right nostril. At the last split-second before there was skin-to-skin contact, he yanked his stubby finger down. His move wasn't borne of the idea to avoid touching Tater's nose boogers; it happened because he tripped and fell backwards over a lump of clothing someone had left in the alley. "Oick! Augh! M'bones! Oh, I 'dink som'ding broke!" He rolled in the alley's filth for a moment, till he realized that Tater was more interested in the lump of clothes than in Lemmy's pain.

"Git yer ass up Lemmy and look at this!" Tater knelt down and prodded the still, prone figure that lay in the alley. There was a man in those clothes, and even better, a backpack.

"'dath's mine!" Lemmy shot up and snatched the backpack right out of Tater's hand. The action resulted in the two tussling over the bag - Tater gave Lemmy good smack in the eye; Lemmy reinforced Tater's trademark proboscis. The tussle was over almost as soon as it started. Lemmy had won - mostly because the blow to Tater's nose required two hands to stop the bleeding, leaving Tater with no hands on the backpack. Lemmy yanked the bag open and spent the next several moments cursing as the bag was mostly empty - there were just a few crumpled tissues and some lint balls. "Dang it!", he threw the bag aside and kicked at the former owner's body. "Wurdleff piec'a...," he scrambled backwards when the body moaned.

"Oh shit, he ain't dead!" was Tater's profound assessment of the situation.

Light grey colored smoke snaking lazily skyward, Connor woke to see the sky directly above him through the torn ripped opening of a crashed shuttle laying on it's side. His head was pounding sharply and his attempt to move threatened to plunge him right back into oblivion. Remaining still he tried to assess his condition. His right knee burned with pain and attempts to move it only increased it. He could move his arms, they only ached, felt battered and bruised...like the rest of him. Taking another moment to control his breathing, he forced himself to turn onto his side, and he seen her...half buried by debris and unconscious. Then suddenly there was a sharp pain in his side, and he could hear the murmur of voices...

Recovering slightly from the shock, Lemmy leaned forward towards the body and hissed at Tater, "Weez culd make him 'dat way."

"Then we'd get nothing for him," Tater hissed. "He's too clean, not one of us."

"Hey! What color were the monkey's eyes?"

Connor moaned again in the present, his fingers moving as he continued to slowly regain consciousness. "Just let me go," he whispered.

"Clean? He t'aint clean! I kin smell his funkn'ss from here!" Lemmy protested.

"Lemmy, you brainless idiot. That's you, not him. Trust me." Tater prodded Connor to see if he'd moan again. "He's only mostly dead. They can fix him up."

Testing Tater's assertion, Lemmy sniffed at one armpit, then the other then scrunched his nose up at Tater. "I smell jess fine. Less git him ov'r ta Sury's. M'be he'll like his type."

All of Connor's senses returned and the stench in the air threatened to overwhelm him. The numbness was now leaving his fingers, and he could feel the hard floor beneath him. Feeling an urge to vomit, he tried to push himself up only to collapse right back down. The pain was so extreme, his head felt like it was going to explode; as their voices became clearer, they got louder and louder. He couldn't recognize who they belonged to, nor did he know where he was. "Help me", he barely breathed out. "Someone...please help me."

"Well, well, looks like it's your lucky day. The cavalry just arrived. Bring his backpack Lemmy, an' let's get him up." Tater stood and bent down, taking hold of Connor under his arms. With surprising ease, he lifted him, holding him up on his feet.

"G'it," Lemmy said as he shouldered the empty pack and shoved a shoulder under Connor's armpit. Breathing across Connor's face, he said, "Don'w'rry, Sury'll git ya fixt up."

The sewer gas coming from Lemmy's mouth made Connor reel. He tried to turn away, to get out of the pair's grip, but they held fast. Holding fast was to their detriment: Connor lost what little lunch he'd eaten, all over their shoes. That's when he realized that even his shoes were gone. Had he had shoes? He couldn't remember. Whether he'd had shoes wasn't the only thing he couldn't remember.

"Oh, shit. I hate it when they do that." Tater paused to wipe his shoes on the carpet. "Now we're gonna have to hose him off before we take him in. The mood Sury's been in the last coupla days, I ain't making it any worse."

"Ugh!" Lemmy kicked the toes of his boots on the deck. "Now I rally do stink! C'mon, 'dere's a critter warshin' ting 'round da c'rner." He pulled on the arm he was holding, dragging both Connor and Tater with him. "See? S'nic 'n all."

"Just get me to a doctor", Connor pleaded hoarsely as he was dragged, feeling as if he was about to pass out at any moment.

"Oh a doctor he wants. Where's he think he is, Lemmy? Above the equator? Lemme just buzz one on my comm badge." Tater poked Lemmy behind Connor's back and burst into uproarious laughter.

Lemmy tittered along with Tater's laughter. He didn't quite get the joke; to cover that up, he shuffled forward, supporting Connor on his shoulder and entered the sonic shower chamber. "Al'raity den. Tat'r, you hit da bud'on soon's I--! Hey!" Tater had hit the button, causing the chamber to close with him and Connor inside and the sonic cleaning started. Moments later, the chamber opened again and an irate Lemmy gave Tater the stink eye. Fortunately for all concerned, that was now the only stink Lemmy could give anyone. "Funny, arthole," he muttered at Tater. "Lets find Sury."

________________
Connor McKinney, Ph.D.
Not Dead...Just Dazed & Confused

Lemmy Ashim
Comin' Out Smellin' Like a Rose

Tater McPhee
Blessing The Inventor Of The Sonic Shower