=/\= Party =/\= Acheson stood at attention with much of the crew of the Chimera around him, as Shane took the lead and spoke: ""Colonel Bretam, I was contacted by Admiral Hunter from SSF Command. He made me aware of fact that there is a serious issue that must be dealt with. Our recent 'missions' didn't remain unnoticed by the SSF Command and even SF Command, and those high ups in Strarfleet Command decided that the rank of Colonel isn't suitable for you anymore." He waited for the follow up to that comment, not entirely sure what to expect. "With authority entrusted to me from SF and SSF Command I hereby..." Shane went on with a stony face, "....announce the promotion of Colonel Bretam Keylor to Brigadier General." Almost instinctually, he clapped his hands together quickly and everyone else continued to do so. Suddenly, a pie struck him in the face and did so with such inertia that some of it landed on Lieutenant Foster. He couldn't help but laugh at that. He looked around and saw the faces of the people on the ship, clearly enjoying the fesivity. He sighed, finding himself still bothered by the recent dream. "I can't sit through this anymore." In a retreat possibly faster than even that of Doctor Summers and Commander Wellingon had made just a few moments earlier, he walked out of the room and into a nearby turbolift. "Holodeck 1" As the turbolift hummed toward the destination, he thought about it. He wasn't gonna sit down and think about this; That would be too painful. He needed to distract himself in something exciting. =/\= Holodeck 1 =/\= He looked at the controls for the holodeck. The question became: what would be exciting enough.... Combat. But not hand to hand. He chose a program and entered the holodeck, as the computer said it was ready. It featured an airfield with a large manor in the background and a watchtower in the foreground. Next to it was a runway and several planes. He walked toward the planes and could hear someone talking: "We've got to stop the bloody Jerries from bombing our bases in London. Your orders are to engage any enemy targets in the air. You have your training." He got too close and the Major turned to him: "Who are you?" "Sir?" The major became impatient. "I want to know who you are, mister." He blirted the first thing that came to his mouth: "Acheson.... Nathan Acheson." As he walked closer, his uniform became apparent to the major: "I've never seen a uniform like that ... I think you're a spy." He drew a pistol in close order. It made a rustling sound against the leather holster. "I'm sure you recognize this, bloody kraut. My brother got one in North Africa, fighting Rommel. You're probably hear to get information on our planes for your Fuhrer. I bloody hell won't allow that. You're coming with me." Acheson could only chuckle at that: "Kraut .. Fuhrer. What are you talking about? OOOohh, right. Germany in the first half of the twentieth century on Ancient Earth. So that's what this fighter war was ... the battle of Britain." The major wasn't amuzed: "I said move. Or I'll shoot your arse before you can sing Deutchland Uber Alles." Nathan became confused: "Sir, I'm from the American continent." He scoffed in contempt: "Americans ..... bloody wankers. The krauts attack us and you sit on your asses." <<I had a friend from England in college who said that ... albeit with a lot more tact>> "Yes, sir. But I want to fight." "Piss off." With that, he turned around and went to his other recruits. "Damn it." Acheson cursed. "Computer, end program. Create appropriate garments." The computer complied and within minutes the same scene had been reproduced. Nathan stood at attention, wearing the uniform of a RAF pilot, a Second Lieutenant. The Major walked and the men stood at attention: "You've got to stop the Krauts here. Her Majesty's bravest is the only thing preventing the damn Germans from controlling our island. You are our future. God be with you, lads." The pilots were dismissed and Acheson jumped into his own plane. Looking at the design, he tried to figure out what it was: The inside of the plane featured a single identifying mark: "BF 109" He thought for a second. "Computer, pause program. Identity Royal Air Force Aircraft, 1940 service, BF 109" The computer responded instanteously: "RAF Plane Registry Number BF 109 has the common name of "Hurricaine." "Hmm, should be interesting." He took the controls and started the aircraft. He taxied onto the runway and accelerated forward, with the rumbling of the plane resembling what really might happen. As he reached the end of the runway, he pulled back on the controls and the plane pushed up into the air. ""Aaaaaahhhhhhh" he screamed as the plane coasted upward on its own accoard. As he reached a decent altitude, he pushed forward slightly and managed to level the plane. It wasn't all that dissiilar from the required manual piloting tests at Starfleet Academy, designed for instances of sensor and navigation failure. He smiled as his airplane flew off, to engage distant targets. =/\= END LOG =/\= <<Anyone who wants to join me is free to do so. Go ahead and log being on another holodeck and linking with my own. Might be fun.>> 1LT Acheson CTAC USS Chimera -- ___________________________________________________________ Sign-up for Ads Free at Mail.com http://promo.mail.com/adsfreejump.htm