Techies en Gray
From: Bureau For the Election of Callisto as Karmic Voyager
To: Field Operative Bureau
Re: Techies in Gray
We recently intercepted this transmission. As you can see it is clearly an attempt by TEG to muddy the water and lead the public to believe that it is a fictional organization. Fiction Expert to give a critique of this missive. -BECKY
Introduction - Techies en Gray
This is Follys fault. Well, not exactly. Maybe its Missys fault. It is not Llachs fault (and I want to make this perfectly plain) but she does rather inspire a great amount of it.
See, I just asked on day, What is the TEG thing on your work signature, Missy? and got the reply It stands for Technical Escalation Group which I found less than informative. So, I thought, hmmm either she doesnt know or its top secret, like the CIA or FBI or NSA or or or...MIB.
So I made it an organization based on a couple of the Pups and Monsters and gave them little adventures based on whatever the weirdest thread djour was. And Folly (this is the part where its her fault) has decided to archive them for future generations to ponder over.
From: Number One: Linguist, Interpreter, Fiction Expert
To: Bureau for the Election of Callisto as Karmic Voyager, Field Operative Bureau
Re: Techies en Gray
BECKY, FOB A feeble attempt. Clearly the work of a third rate hack. Ignore it.
Techies en Grey
(my apologies to the French language. But they're the only ones who spell in with an E)
The mood of the room was pensive. Quiet and pensive as the two forlorn people huddled around the computer's darkened monitor; the absence of the ever-present hum of electronics adding to the unease.
"What now?" Abby said, staring at her reflection in the monitor.
"The guy on the phone said to wait. That they'd send someone," Bob assured her.
"But our... work. How can we re... do our work?"
Before Bob could answer the door to the office opened and two women strode in. They were dressed identically in light grey business suits and wearing mirrored sun glasses.
"Who's in charge?"
Bob raised a hesitant hand. "Me," he squeaked. "I'm Agent Eff, this is Agent Ell. Stand aside." "What's the problem?" Agent Ell asked as Agent Eff began removing pictures, action figures and bus tokens from around the monitor.
"We came in and it was dead," Abby said. "We called the support number and they said they'd send someone. Do you think it's the heat?" Agents Ell and Eff froze; Eff mouthing the word "footwarmer". Making their moves seem casual they drew back from the desk. Whipping aside their suit jackets they dropped to one knee to get a clear view of the underside of the desk.
"Negative," Agent Ell said, returning the cellular phone to it's belt holster.
"It is a footwarmer," Agent Eff said, returning the Palm Pilot to it's under-the-arm holster. "Proctor Silex Toastie Toes and Muffin Warmer Dual Model," Agent Ell continued. "With dual knobbies for controlling the heat..." Agent Eff added. "...for the delicate, even warming of chocolate covered food," Agent Ell finished.
They both turned, left eyebrows rising over the top of the sunglasses as they regarded Abby. "So, can you fix it?" Bob asked. "Negative," Agent Ell said, retrieving the cellular phone from it's belt holster. She pressed the recall button and then the 6. "This is Ell. We do not, I repeat not, have a footwarmer. Send her in." Ell flipped the mouthpiece up and turned to Agent Eff. "On her way." "So you two aren't the escalation team?" Bob asked. "No, sir, we're advance scouts. We ensure that our prime trouble shooter is actually needed. Make sure she isn't called prematurely," Agent Ell said. "So is premature escalation a problem?" "No, sir," Agent Ell said, both eyebrows appearing from over her sunglasses.
"Not personally anyway, sir," Agent Eff added, both eyebrows appearing from over her sunglasses.
"Yo," asked a new voice, "What's up?"
Bob and Abby turned to the newcomer. She was dressed in denim overalls with a brightly embroidered Tigger on the bib. "Busted computer," Agent Ell explained.
"Right," the newcomer said. She reached back with one hand, like a surgeon. "Cone."
The assistant, dressed identically to Agents Ell and Eff, opened a large briefcase which emitted a puff of condensation. She carefully reached into the case and pulled out a waffle cone of ice cream and placed it into the waiting hand.
"Okay," the newcomer said, shifting the cone into her left hand and smacking the computer monitor on the side with her right. Instantly the monitor leapt to life, the browser activating and starting download of the bright blue screen of the homepage.
"My work here is done," the newcomer said, taking a lick of the cone. "Where to next Agent Pond?" "The library. Again." "Figures. Probably feathers in the CD-ROM tray again." Bob, Abby and Agents Ell and Eff watched the two leave.
"Controlled vibration," Agent Ell whispered in hushed tones. "She is a goddess," Agent Ell whispered in an awed voice. Both shivered simultaneously.
"Guess you have to be going," Bob said standing half in front of the monitor. Abby smiled and moved to obscure the other half.
"Yes," Agent Ell said as she and Agent Eff shook hands with Abby and Bob. "Our work here is finished."
"No thanks are necessary," Agent Eff said as Bob and Abby, bodies still obscuring the
screen, herded the two technicians toward the office door.
"Just doing our..." the door shut in their faces "...jobs." "Lets go to Starbucks, your turn to buy," Agent Ell said.
"Okay, but you're driving," Agent Eff agreed.
Both ignoring the excited cries of "update" from behind the closed door.
The Continuing Saga of Techies en Grey
It was nearly midnight. The dark car with opaque windows had been parked outside the NGA for nearly 12 hours. Several DC cops had stopped by but had left quickly when Agent Pond had flashed her NOT-EDS ID.
"How much longer do you think she'll be?" Agent Ell asked from the rear seat.
"Dunno," Agent Eff, who sat beside her, replied. "Last time the NGA 'putes went down it took her 12 hours to get them humming."
"Yeah, but that tall one looked real happy when she walked her to the car."
"Any ice cream back there?" Agent Pond asked, voice edged with irritation.
Agent Eff flipped open the cone box. The dry ice was nearly gone and only one remained, it's waffle cone protected by bubblewrap.
"Just one for the boss when she gets out."
"Fine," Agent Pond said, voice not so much edged with irritation as laced. Agents Eff and Ell exchanged glances.
"PMS," mouthed Agent Eff. Agent Ell merely nodded.
"I heard that," Agent Pond said, voice now dripping in irritation.
"Artemis, I hope she finishes up soon. Did she say what the problem was?"
"Something about drives and disks and dragons."
"Oh," Agent Eff said. Silence dragged on for several minutes.
"How about the radio?"
Agent Pond snapped on the radio, twisting the left nobbie with firm force causing it to emit a squeek of static. With slow, even moves she twisted the right nobbie until a moan of noise came from the speakers.
"And at 12:15 Eastern the score is Lucy 52, Jeri 47."
Techies en Grey
in Flashback Fever
(disclaimer: I'm not mocking Missy or Llach. I am, however, mildly mocking some threads on the lists. Since I can't use italic and bold face and indents I'm using brackets. They work just like they did in grade eight math.)
(when last we left our intrepid heroes they were parked outside the National Art Gallery in Washington DC, patiently awaiting the return of The Boss aka The Alpha TEG. And, other than a quick side trip to a dance club and another so that Agent Pond could keep her fingers limber, they have been waiting patiently for about three days.)
Agent Pond pulled out her cellular phone [the one that looked like the Classic Star Trek communicator] and pressed a series of numbers. About three seconds later there was a flurry of motion from the back seat as the previously peacefully sleeping Agents Ell and Eff were awakened to the sound of five pagers and two cell phones going off simultaneously.
"What!" they yelled into their respective cell phones, again simultaneously.
"I'm hungry. You two wanna order in?" Agent Pond asked from the front seat.
Agents Eff and Ell stared at the back of Agent Pond's head over the seatback.
"Sure," Agent Eff said in the voice she usually reserved for armed terrorists holed up in corporate computer rooms.
"What do you feel like?" Agent Ell asked in the voice that had successfully talked three jumpers off of ledges so far.
"I dunno. Can't make up my mind between Covert Lebanese Caterers or The Stakeout Steakhouse."
"Hmmm," Agent Eff said in her normal voice. "Remember when we were in New Orleans working for that reclusive rock star that everyone assumed was dead?"
(The sun had just set over the Big Easy and the sounds of jazz could be heard from nearby Rue Bourbon. From the patio of the Cafe Monde Agents Eff, Ell and Pond sipped chickory flavoured coffee and gazed sadly at the empty plate. The only clue of the plate's previous content was a liberal dusting of white confectionery sugar which also dusted the agent's hands, faces and jackets.
"That was so good," Agent Eff had said, licking some sugar with a decidedly cat like pleasure.
"Almost as good as sex," Agent Ell had said.
"Almost as good as chocolate," Agent Pond had said. To which the other two agents had merely laughed.
"No where close to chocolate," Agent Ell had said.
"Certainly better than grits," Agent Eff had said with a slight shudder.
(The diner had looked like a dive on the outside but, as is not often the case, looked like a dive on the inside as well.
"C'mon," The Alpha had said eagerly. "This place doesn't look like much but it has the best grits."
Agents Ell and Eff, immediately behind The Alpha were saved from making comment by biting their tongues.
"Word of the day, oxymoron. Good grits," Agent Pond muttered from the rear.
"Have I ever steered you three wrong," The Alpha asked in what was clearly a rhetorical question as she didn't wait for an answer. Which would have been resoundingly positive.
Agent Pond shook her head at one of the memories.
(The trip to emergency had been uneventful although, as always, explaining why a grown woman covered in chocolate ice cream required ten stitches, a knee brace, a sling, a tetanus shot, malaria treatment, three finger and two toe splints as well a hacksaw for the handcuffs had been interesting.)
"I dunno," Agent Pond said, "sometimes your ideas are alittle outre."
Agents Eff and Ell had done the quiet clap thing [aka the golf clap] to show their appreciation of the use, in context, of last week's word of the day.
("Word of the day, outre. The Alpha's ideas," Agent Pond had said, standing in the rear of the army paratrooper plane with only a parachute and several thousand meters between her and the roof of the IS building that needed TEG's intervention real damn fast.
"C'mon," The Alpha had said, "It saves three hours of landing the plane, picking up the luggage and driving to the site."
And she had pushed Agent Pond from the plane but more in the direction of the Ben and Jerry plant than the Information R Us facility next door.)
The waiter had brought four steaming bowls of grits as well as a tray of additives. A brief tussle over the maple syrup and the honey was resolved when The Alpha pulled rank.
"Dig in," The Alpha had said and they had. With looks usually reserved for eating Aunt Minnie's Crunchy Muffens in the pursuit of juciy rumours.)
The three Agents smiled at the memory. Although the event had been exceedingly painful and traumatic they could now look back on it with the cushion of time and the fact that the doctors had used a general anesthetic before pumping their stomachs.
"I love New Orleans," Agent Pond said. "C'mon. Let's go get Monseur le Rock Star's system up and running before his boyfriend gets home from San Francisco.")
The three agents sat in happy rememberance.
"Let's go to that Cajan place," Agent Pond suggested.
The other two nodded agreement and soon the parking space in front of the gallery was vacant.
"Where the heck did they go this time?" The Alpha asked as she and the gallery's IS manager came out the front steps.
"Gone," The Tall One said. "Looks like you're stuck here for a little longer."
"Well, might as well put the time to use. Let's go make some grilled cheese sandwiches in the toaster oven."
Disclaimer. Well, TEG started as an inside joke for the Merpups and then the Monsters and then the just the people who were following the little ditty of Snic and Raven, two American kids in the SoCal... I think there's a song in there somewhere.
Anyway, this is an in joke for me and maybe two others. But hey, when Caffenia (muse of late night writing) speaks...
TEG - When Obsessions Collide
Lost in Time, Lost in Space...And Meaning. (somewhere in the multiverse) "Khat, whatever possessed you to use them to make ... whatever you call this ... " "Bubblewrap" "...stuff and especially, whatever possesed you to make them in *my* quarters?" "My quarters are too full with Betsy (who is visiting from the castle for a vacation!!) and Robo-Betsy (who just adores the real Betsy which isn't to say that Robo-Betsy isn't real or anything I mean of course she's real but she's not the original well she is the original Robo-Betsy but not the original Betsy-Betsy) and there's just no room and besides it's not just your quarters but everybody's quarters but I used your computer in your quarters because you have all those nifty command codes and they let me override and make all the bubble wrap we'll need!!!"
"Oh, god. Khat, what do we need that much bupple-wrap for?"
"Tee-hee, it's bubble wrap. Bumble-bee You Bumble-bee Bumble-bee ell, eee-wrap! It's a 20th century device used to protect things!"
"Oh, god. What are we protecting, Khat?" "The base! From invasion!" "Khat, of all your ideas, and you have had some unique ones, this one..."
"DON'T TOUCH THAT!!
"Oh, God," moaned Ariana in the suddenly dark room.
"Tell me again what we're doing here?"
"Well, the boss is locked in Gryph's office personally fixing the NGA computer system again for the forth time this week. Our Trainee Agents Are and Ess are currently in the Pre-Rapheal exhibit. And we're here."
"Picking up women. Or trying to."
"How's that going?"
"Pretty good. She's worked up to women 5' 11" and age 34. But she really wants to break the six foot mark. There she is now."
"Yo, Eff, Ell. Red alert," said Agent Pond as she approached, Trainee Agents Are and Ess in tow.
"You mean a Not-EDS emergency call?" asked Trainee Agent Ess.
"No, like a red alert," explained Agent Alpha, head of the TEG. Just before the transporter beam took them.
Main Operations, the nerve centre of the Starbase, was dark (except for the subdued red light that pulsed weakly) and silent (except for the quiet sobbing of Lt. Commander Ariana Fung, Second Officer)
"Why, me? First time the Captain leaves me in charge of the base and this happens. Well, next time he goes galivanting around the galaxy he's taking Khat with him."
"Ariana? I brought you some hot chocolate. Except the replicators don't work so it's really just chocolate."
Ariana looked at the chocolate bar resting in the mug, struggling to think of something to say that would give Khat an indication of her feelings without causing her to dissolve into tears when she heard the hum of transporters. Looking up she watched six figures materialize into the open area in the centre of the room.
"I'm Commander Wolf. This is Lieutenant Commander Pond, Engineering. Lieutenants Ell and Eff with Security. Chief Petty Officers Are, Sciences and Ess, Medical. Who's in charge?"
"That would be my bestest friend Ariana. She's only a Lieutenant Commander but the Captain (who is a Captain) and the First Officer (who's also a Lieutenant Commander) are away."
"Thank you, Khat. I'll take it from here. I'm the base Second Officer, Lieutenant Commander Ariana Fung. How can I help?"
"Just answer Agen... Commander Pond's questions," the Alpha said as she took a molecular unsealer and began to remove the front panel of the computer.
"Right," Agen... Commander Pond said. "Has there been a man, age late 50's with a cheesy, curly tupee hanging around?"
"Good. The Kirk virus is responsible for the destruction of at least three planetary computer systems. Any outbreak of obscure diseases that cause crew to act in an uninhibited or ummm, armourous way?"
"Damn. Any contamination of either Federation nanites or Borg nanoprobes? Binar ships in the vicinity? Lost Earth space probes?"
"No, no and no."
"Okay, height and weight?"
"Cm, 27 years old," Fung said, slightly bemused.
"Any evidence of temporal crap?"
Fung arced an eyebrow (left). "Temporal crap?"
"Yeah," Trainee Agent Ess piped up. "For instance, what year is it?"
"2404," Fung replied promptly. "Um what year should it be?" she asked in concern as the five remaining agents all exchanged glances.
"Oh, 2404 works just fine. Just go with 2404 -whatever makes you happy," Agen... Lieutenant Ell assured her.
"Right," Agen... Lieutenant Eff continued. "Don't worry about details."
"So, did Janeway, Seven and Voyager make it back yet?" Trainee Agen... Chief Are asked.
"Voyager yes, Janeway no. Voyager returned under the command of Captain Chakotay. And seven what?"
Fung strained to overhear the whispered conference but only the words "shacked up", "planet", "together" and the fact that Pond was making notations on a padd were the only things she could hear and see.
"Paris? Helmsman, not city," asked Pond, head popping up from the huddle.
"Umm, dead but I never heard an explanation," Fung replied.
Again Fung tried to overhear, this time catching "Clintonesque moral" "Delaney twins" "head popped like a beer cap".
"Last question, favourite type of ice cream, cone and topping?" Pond asked as the huddle broke up.
"Chocolate, waffle, chocolate sauce," answered Fung automatically, slowly coming to the realization that these maybe weren't really Starfleet officers...
"That's got it," Commander Wolf said as the lights and computers all came to life.
....and not really caring a flying fig.
"Cone?" asked Agen... Lieutenant Eff, handing Fung a chocolate and chocolate waffle cone.
"Ariana, isn't it wonderful!! They're going to take all the babble wrap back with them!!"
"That is great," Fung said to Khat. Who held a triple scoop cone with cotton candy, tiger tail and rocky road and sprinkled liberly with nuts and coloured candies. Agen... Lieutenant Commander Pond finished handing out the cones and closed the case with a swirl of dried ice vapour.
"Our work here is done," Commander Wolf said. "Commander Gryph, six to beam back. Plus umm, Pond?"
"456843.2456 metric tonnes"
"Plus 456843.2456 metric tonnes of bubble wrap."
"Gosh, Ariana, wasn't that exciting! If you weren't my bestest friend I'd see if I could transfer to that team! Swooping around the galaxy, fixing computers, popping bubbles..."
As was her habit (nay survival instinct) Fung carefully tuned out Khat's babbling and turned her attention to a new mystery.
Namely the empty mug and where the Snicker's bar had disappeared to.
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