December 13th, 2007

T'Lothvik
  • tsorvik

T'Sorvik Is Pooped

As the robohamsters attacked T'Sorvik, Lothar began to jump up and down and squeal in a high pitched voice. Because they were still connected by a (deteriorating) mild meld, he was feeling the pain along with her.

Outside of Lothar, there was confusion – but at the same time, all of those present made the same decision upon the most logical course of action: They began to back away outside of Lothar's range. Or, at the very least, to back away; it was not always easy to know what Lothar's range was. Mib Khan continued to scan with his tricorder, but it was still unable to tell him what was happening inside the counsellor.

Inside of Lothar, there was also confusion. The robohamsters, acting under very simple directives, were attempting to sample and analyze the intruder, while at the same time attempting to either drive it out of Lothar's internal workings or incapacitate it. Their analyses were confused, since their nibbles were sampling both the blood inside her body and the oils and other substances from Lothar's machinery on the outside of her body. They weren't sure, but they suspected that the intruder might be a cyborg of some type, possibly even a Borg drone. They continued to nibble, while they conferred.

Meanwhile, Lothar was also in pain from the attacks (albeit minor so far) upon T'Sorvik. When the robohamsters detected pain coming from Lothar, they naturally assumed that the intruder was fighting back and hurting their host. They redoubled their efforts. T'Sorvik managed to grab and smash one of them, but lost a finger in the process. Finally, as what remained of the merged "T'Lothvik" realized what was happening, it voluntarily severed the mental connection. T'Sorvik and Lothar were individuals once more, and it was time for the girl to leave. She dragged herself to the access port leading out, kicking and crushing a few robohamsters on the way.

With a grunt and groan, T'Sorvik plummeted out from underneath Lothar's dress into a twitching lump on the floor. She was covered with scratches, small bites, blood, oil, and dirt. Storvik grabbed the medical tricorder from Khan and ran to his daughter to check on her, as Khan smacked his commbadge and ordered an emergency transport for four (T'Vit also moved into position) to sickbay.

Muttering "show over", Ifix turned to the turbolift and returned to engineering, hoping that he would be able to read the girl's report about Lothar's inner mechanics later. This left a rather cross and now fully-functional Counsellor Lothar alone in the corridor with a rather petrified ensign.

"Help...?"

South Park Lothar
  • notchad

Oh Crap.

Lothar stood there for a minute, not really sure what was going on or how he had got there. He had some dim memories that were trying to assert themselves into his consciousness but his brain was rebelling; and as with all things Lothar, it was rebelling violently.

It killed the idea that he had had a child inside of him that was controlling him.

It destroyed the idea that he was currently eating a chess bishop and had won several games of chess by thinking.

And it completely annihilated the very thought of any kind of hint that there might possibly have been even the slightest chance that he had just given birth to a seven-year-old Vulcan girl that was swept away by Storvik, his wife, and one of the doctor's clones. Not only did Lothar's brain annihilate that idea, it wanted to annihilate everything that could possibly have been a witness to the events that really really really didn't happen.

His eyes turned to the ensign that was still in his grip. Lothar grinned.

The Ensign, having never before seen a grin on Lothar, let alone had one directed at him, promptly passed out...

Above him in the Jeffries tube, Alabama Picard was wondering what the heck was going on. Something about Lothar eating T'Sorvik, eating a chest, and gambling. He needed to get closer to the source of the voices. Just as he got there, he received a shock...

Lothar quickly removed the pink dress, noting that he was now only wearing a very uncomfortable thong. He put the dress on the ensign and launched him into the ceiling.

Alabama was shocked, surprised, and then enthusiastic. Shocked that the impact of the ceiling directly to the skull of an ensign had not shattered it like a walnut (this was a space-faring vessel, after all); surprised that the pink dress really went well with the blood and bruising on his neck; and enthusiastic that he had finally found a winter!!!

Lothar stomped around the corridor for a minute. He wanted to kill, he wanted to hunt down the people responsible and hurt them in ways that he hadn't even thought of yet, and he wanted to sit down and discuss in full the ramifications of altering a person's dress while they were functionally immobile.

Er … What?

He stood still for a few minutes and thought about what he was just thinking. Kill, hurt, discuss. Something didn't belong. Something wasn't right, but right now he needed to find Storvik and ask him why he wanted to call him "daddy."

Lothar ripped a door from its tracks and carved a tartan pattern into it with his finger. He then fashioned a kilt for himself so that he wouldn't be trudging around the ship in just a thong. Again.

"Discuss? What was I thinking...?"