Excerpt: Shooting The Moon

I freely accept that this might make little sense out of context, but I like it cos it wasn't written while I was thinking 'Oh hell, need words, need words' and is, I think, better for it.

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Upon joining the Alliance, some Ka'trolians had taken advantage of new technology to alter their appearance in order fit in with races such as the Rihannsu and those of Earth. The plan for the Victory was for the majority of the crew to masquerade as altered Ka'trolians, with only a few needing to submit to the lengthy medical procedure necessary to implant a realistic growth of fur. The lucky few had been chosen by lot, and were assured that they would be easily able to remove the hair upon their return. Jim sincerely hoped this was true, for though the fur was soft to the touch and really quite attractive, he found it extremely difficult to keep clean. That, and it tended to scare off most Earth people. Before when he had walked into a bar and the room fell silent, he had taken it for a good sign. Now he knew it was simply shock.

Bones had not ended up covered in fur - to his intense relief, he had managed to persuade Starfleet that it would interfere with his medical work and pose a hygiene risk. Instead he took to ribbing Jim gleefully about his at every chance he got. Jim bore it all with patience, privately wondering how he could arrange for Bones to go undercover as some form of amoeba that would still allow him to carry out his doctorly duties.

When they arrived at Ka’trola in the middle of the night, the majority of the crew stayed onboard to sail the ship on another mission. The rest of the crew beamed down to the surface. Approximately three seconds after arrival, everyone was transfixed by a hacking cough, caused by the desert sand that swelled and billowed around them.

'When they said, 'deserted countryside', I was thinking cornfields or something,' Jim complained, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Sand already adhered to him; it nestled in the folds of his clothing, in the corners of his mouth and the crinkles of his eyes. 'I hate desert planets.'

'You were the one with all the info,' Bones reminded him.

'Well, yeah, but it didn't exactly say, 'You will be beaming down into the middle of the Sahara, please don't forget to apply sun block,' now did it?'