A 4-post collection

Challenge #02609-G052: To Each Their Aptitude

A Havenworlder version of Sherlock Holmes who is accompanied by a Deathworlder version of John Watson (a human seems logical but a Vorax sounds more interesting) -- Mterrazas

The entire Galactic Alliance is large enough for everyone to find their niche. Even the truly bizarre ones like a Havenworlder who finds fascination in solving murders and mysteries. Her name is Aprat Mont. She is a consulting detective and is naturally attracted to anomalous details. Of course, a Havenworlder literally can't survive everywhere and will find it necessary to have a Deathworlder escort to keep them safe and, in the case of Mont, from blithely walking into hostile territory to ask antagonising questions. This, more or less, explains Vorax U'att Sen.

U'att has long since surrendered to the Vorax title, even though ze is from the Maker Caste and therefore not a Vorax. Things get complicated and most Galactics prefer to make it simple. Calling hirself Maker-Vorax only confused things further, since Maker was also an occupation and ze was an escort-guard and also an assistant. Therefore, 'Vorax' was simpler and served the dual purpose of making others back off from any hostility. Keeping up with, and keeping track of Mont was a full-time job that came with a free education.

Which, today, included standing underneath Mont as she scrabbled around some support struts with a grav-reduction net in case she fell. The reptilloid Havenworlder was more absorbed in peering at something up in there than any harm that might come to her if her grip slipped. "Interesting. Interesting. Yes..." She peered down at the lingering blood spatter and back up into the tangle of cables and more support structures. "Tell me, U'att. What travels in a direct line and leaves parts of a cogniscent being in the ceiling works?"

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Challenge #01770-D309: One Aggravating Evening on a Space Station

Everyone’s translators break down at the worst possible moment. -- TheDragonsFlame

Someone had sabotaged the Universal Translator. Someone for whom the peace negotiations meant only trouble. Unfortunately, there were plenty of parties who could fit that particular motive.

The negotiations room on Deep Space Nine had become a tower of Babel. Bajoran, Cardassian, several Terran dialects, Ferengi and Vulcan and Breen. All at once. Dax knew Vulcan, Ferengi, and all of the Terran tongues, but there was only one other person

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Up and down...

I’m back down to 92.4, today. I did it by not eating very much, and yet, I also didn’t eat very much of anything that’s good for me.

I doubt I’m going to make it to 80 kilos subsisting solely on peanut-honey sandwiches, as I have been yesterday. [FYI: You mix almost-equal portions of honey and peanut paste/butter together and spread the results on a sandwich. Tasty and filling.]

I really should

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