nik

Nikkori sits rigidly on his knees in his quarters with his hands on his thighs. His eyes are closed and he breathes slowly and deeply. Stars streak by out the viewports. The only light in the room comes from six flickering candles on the ancestral shrine at the front of his room. A small bowl of burning incense wafts thin smoke in front of him. A small cup of green tea sits beside him. Shadows flicker mysteriously across his face, and the gentle twang of a shimasen is heard in the background.

Nikkori slowly rises from the tatami mat, leaving his tea-cup. He removes his happi coat and puts on his uniform. He steps off the mat, bows to the ancestral shrine at the end of his room and slips his feet into his boots.

"Computaa," The computer chirps quietly. "Mado o tojite kudasai." The shades on the windows slide shut as Nikkori exits his quarters.

Walking down the hall, he passes Lt. Buzzkill. Nikkori smiles broadly and nods as Buzzkill immediately begins concentrating hard on his PADD.

He steps into the turbolift. "Funabashi...." The computer chirps and minutes later Nikkori steps to the bridge.

Taking his station, he begins working on a little project between him and Lt. Akiko Shimehara, a bright AI expert in the sciences division. As he sits, a quick flash of light illuminates his right eye as it scans his retina.

"Computaa, baiofeedobaku kiken o onegaishimasu." Nikkori leans back in his chair, watching the console in front of him. He watches the console for a few minutes as its touchpads and indicators change, though he does not touch them. In a few minutes, he produces a blindfold from his pocket and puts it on. The indicators and buttons continue to function as though operated by a trained communications officer. Nikkori rises and - still wearing the blindfold - leaves the bridge, strolling casually about the Elusive.

I don't know too much about physics, but perhaps I can make a feeble contribution.

Energy transport takes many forms. Sound and light - both of which transport energy - take the forms of waves. However, while light - which does travel in space - is a self-propagating, time-dependent transverse wave consisting of (usually) orthogonal electric and magnetic fields, sound is a lognitudinal mechanical wave. It requires matter to travel. There's not a whole lot of matter in interstellar space, and even less in intergalactic space, so particles really don't transmit sound very well.

Shock waves, matter jets, and subluminal outflows are also great ways to transfer energy in space as AE said. These are basically "clumps" of matter moving through space - not exactly sound, but the mechanics on a microscopic scale is pretty similar in the case of impingment on other objects.

While sound doesn't travel in space for all practical purposes, the speed of sound is

an important consideration in stellar hydrodynamics (the mechanics explaining how stars work). In the case of things like how carbon burning goes on in massive stars, and especially how matter propagates in a supernova explosion, scientists are interested in the "speed of sound" in this medium, as it affects the outflow mechanics.

One should keep a few things in mind. Electromagnetic waves are not tangible things. They are paradigms to quantify non-zero disturbances in an electric field. Many people seem to be confused by thinking about light waves as little ocean waves bobbing through space along some sort of sinusoidal path. That's not right.

Jorel and his wife were extras on DS9.

Nikkori exits the holodeck and leans against the bulkhead. He wipes sweat from his bald head with his braid and scowls a the wall, considering his hard, yet unfullfilling duel with a bitstream.

"Computaa no kenjitsu wa mazui.... katana ga attara.... " He continues to mutter. The computer terminal at the holodeck console chirps as his words are picked up by the universal translator.

"Doozo! Tetsudaimashoo ka. Nani ga hoshi desu ka." The alluring femine voice requests from the holodeck console. Nikkori glances quickly up and down the hall, leans in close to the console, and tells the computer what it can go do with itself.

"Gomen nasai." The computer apologizes. "Dekimasen." The computer informs Nikkori that his request is outside of the limits of its programmed parameters.

As Nikkori leans against the bulkhead considering his doomed practice sessions, Lt. Buzzkill from the Starfleet Marine contingent approaches with five of his officers. Standing head and shoulders above Nikkori with short-cropped blonde hair, massive chest and arms, and a square face, he glances down at Nikkori. Buzzkill and his officers all wear overly tight short-sleeved red shirts. He flexes his thick neck and sniffs as he approaches the console.

"You done with the holodeck?" His deep voice resonates slightly down the corridor.

"Hai." Nikkori responds absently.

Buzzkill leans down to the console and speaks. "Computer... Combat training program 15.... hand-to-hand... full contact..... "

"Processing.... Please stand by....", the console says sweetly. Nikkori's eyes brighten and he looks at the lieutenant.

"Excuse me," he says, "do you require an opponent?" Buzzkill looks down at Nikkori.

"Heh! You're a bit small for full contact training, aren't you peewee?" The contingent with Buzzkill chuckles.

"Then perhaps you shall be gentle with me." Nikkori smirks up at Buzzkill.

"Ok, pipsqueak.... let's go...." The holodeck doors slide open and Nikkori, smiling mischeviously follows the six hulking marines into the program.

........

An hour later, six marines exit the holodeck walking gingerly. Some are holding their sides, and some are wincing slightly as they move. Buzzkill limps slightly and grunts quietly as he walks. Nikkori walks jauntily out and smiles widely at Buzzkill.

"Thank you for a bery enjoyable practice." He bows to Buzzkill.

'Uhh.... mmmmm... yeah... sure." He grunts.

"Are you in pain?" Nikkori asks, "Perhaps you must see the doctor?"

"NO!" Buzzkill says quickly. "We're fine. Aren't we boys?" The contingent moans slightly.

"Then you shall not be seeing the doctor? Perhaps you should report to your superior that you habe been beat up by the commun-"

"NO!" Again Buzzkill quickly snaps a reply. "We ummm....... hmmmmm.... are fine."

Buzzkill and his men shift somewhat embarrassed as Nikkori smiles back at them for several seconds of silence.

"Bery good then!" He says. "Perhaps we shall practice again sometime."

"Uh.... yeah." Buzzkill says. He nods briefly and walks away. Nikkori bows as they leave, pivots on his left foot, and walks back to his quarters to clean up before his next shift.

Nikkori limps heavily to sickbay, a gash on his right thigh bleeding down his leg. He holds his katana in it's scabbard in his right hand, as he holds the gash on this thigh with his left. He winces with each step, nodding nonchalantly and smiling to crewmembers as he passes by.

Walking into sickbay, he helps himself to the nearest table and sits. An attractive nurse approaches with an anabolic protoplaser and a condescending scowl. She wags her head slowly as she approaches.

"Isn't this the third time this week?" She asks exasperatedly.

"It is important to stay in good practice." Nikkori says quietly with a thick accent as the nurse waves the protoplaser over his wound.

"Stay in practice? How often do you think you're going to use that thing here in the phased version of deep space we're zipping through?" She pulls back the protoplaser and tears Nikkori's pants, revealing more of the wound. Nikkori shrugs at her question.

"Wouldn't it just be safer to use the holodeck?" The nurse asks. She snaps off the protoplaser and admires her handiwork. Nikkori rubs his leg a few times and jumps off the table shrugging his shoulders at the nurse's question.

"The computer images of the holodeck are too predictable. Real opponents are much more satisfying. With the holodeck, one knows that he shall leabe with no

injuries. With a person, one fights with his blade, but also with his heart. It is..... samuria."

"How many today?" The nurse sighs at Nikkori's ancient notions of honor as she places the protoplaser back in a cabinet.

"Two Klingons with bat'leths and an Andorian. I found the ambidextrous Andorian to be bery skilled with the psis, and he distracted me while I took a blow from the Klingons. They habe fought with inspiration!" Nikkori beams as he speaks, and the nurse rolls her eyes.

"If the Admiral finds out about this, she's beaming your sword into space at maximum dispersal, and you're gonna follow it."

Nikkori bows to the nurse thanking her for her healing. "This is a bery good healing. Now I must go. The Klingons are waiting, and I still habe one hour before reporting. Thank you."

Picking up his katana, Nikkori walks briskly down the corridor.

The crew of the Kongou Maru release the moorings of the vessel as she prepares to set sail. Her sensei walks the deck contentedly as he observes his renewed vessel

Proving her seaworthiness again. She casts off and drifts effortlessly for a few moments and her crew begins hoisting the triangular sails of the agile vessel. Several of the townsfolk collect on the pier to see Nikkori off. The fat Chinese man is among them, and he nods smiling to Nikkori, who bows with a smirk on his face. A few of the young women on the pier blow kisses, as Nikkori returns a barely perceptible nod – a smirk on his face. As the Kongou Maru glides deftly into the center of the harbor, an explosion rips through the air. Nikkori snaps his head to the east and sees a large fleet of warships approaching. A cannonball rips through a sail, and Nikkori’s face warps into a tooth-baring frown. He shouts back to the helmsman.

“Higashi! Ano fune no mai ni….” He is thrown to his back as an explosion rocks his vessel. Springing up, he draws his katana.

In a foolhardy gesture, the Kongou Maru turns hard to the overwhelming fleet. Several crewman run to the deck with the newly purchased firebrands. The dragon figurehead spews smoke from a furnace below deck transforming the vessel into a lithe, fire-belching demon of the deep. Three men step to the bow with grapples preparing to board one of the vessels, and several flaming crossbow bolts are shot from the Kongou’s stern. Nikkori grins intensely as he directs the Kongou Maru towards the fast approaching fleet.

As the vessels near each other, a cannonball spashes hard on the Kongou’s portside, rocking her violently. Nikkori slips over the edge of the vessel, hanging by his hand. With his right hand, he grabs his wakazashi, and plants it firmy into the Kongou Maru’s side. With this newly-made handle, he swings upward and lands squarely on the deck. Drawing his katana, he shouts an order. Several of the fireworks are lit and sent screaming towards fleet, now only a furlong off. Three ninja step to Nikkori’s side, as he prepares to board the nearest ship.

Suddenly, a hard east wind blows across the harbor, and the Kongou Maru is swept hard aside. As the helmsman struggles to maintain course, the Kongou Maru is swept rapidly away from the fleet. Nikkori growls his disappointment this sudden loss of course. Travelling rapidly in the wind, a cannonball narrowly screams by Nikkori’s head, blowing his long braid around his neck.

The Kongou Maru is blown headlong towards the scintillating vortex. The crew of the Kongou Maru looks on surprised as they approach ever faster towards the swirling aperture. Nikkori lowers his sword as he slowly walks to the front of the vessel.

“Kami no to deshoo ka…..” He whispers…. The doorway of the gods.

The Kongou Maru is swept into the vortex, leaving behind only a rapidly fading smoke trail.

By morning, the Kongou Maru has been restored to an exact replica of her original self. Her bronze dragon snaking down her hull has been polished, and her lacquered sides shine in the mist. Her cherry deck is clean, waxed, and polished. The vessel is empty, and a bizarre ritual takes place on the pier beside it.

Nikkori kneels on the pier facing the hills. His hands rest on his thighs, and his face is expressionless. He is shirtless, revealing the single scar across his right pectoral muscle. In front of him, one of his crewmembers stands. He wears the armor of the samurai, and his black hair is figured into the traditional topknot. His swords are sheathed, but he holds Nikkori’s bare sword in his hands, it’s point down. A younger crewmember kneels in front of sword and washes it with vinegar, then steps back. Nikkori speaks in a quiet voice.

“Shi o meikimasu…….”

The samurai brings the sword up and faces away from Nikkori. With a shout, he pivots quickly. The sword is a flash as he spins rapidly in front of Nikkori, who does not flinch as his own sharp blade lashes at him.

The samurai stands still again and lowers the sword. A drop of blood can be seen on its tip. Nikkori is still. A cut has been opened on his chest. It is perfectly parallel to and equal in length to the scar already there. It bleeds slowly down his chest, as the younger crewmember moves forward to wash Nikkori’s katana. It is dried, placed back into its scabbard, and laid before Nikkori. Nikkori places his hands on the pier in front of him and bows low. He picks up his sword, and the crewmembers disperse slowly. Some return to the Kongou Maru, while others move to the end of the pier to remove nets of fish. Others stand by and exchange talk. A single crewmember examines the lines holding the Kongou to the pier.

The Kongou Maru has now been cleared of her honored dead, and the crew works meticulously on her repairs. A pile of freshly milled planks sits on the pier, and three of her crewmembers hang over the edge repairing the burned sections. A man wearing nothing but a loincloth in the hot sun painstakingly brushes the dragon winding about her hull - scraping and polishing as he works. A new stern mast is being installed as six crewmen slowly guide it into place. Pulleys have been erected on her cetnral mast and yardarms, and several horses on the pier help to move the mast into place. Beside the pile of lumber on the pier, two shirtless crewmen in black pantaloons pile and count fireworks. The old herbalist examines each one - sniffing it slightly, examining the wick, and looking up the shaft of each of the missiles. A few crates and some large bundles of sheets for the sails also rest. Beside that, Nikkori stands, still in his lacquered armor with his katana and wakazashi girded at his side. He speaks animatedely with a tall, thin Portugese man in a black suit and wearing a monocle, and carrying a black cane with a gold knob at the top. His greying head is covered in a black derby, and he sports a grey goattee. Both gesture as they speak, and Nikkori gestures to the piles of lumber and firebrands. Nikkori reaches into a barrel beside him, and pulls out a perfect, ripe orange and holds it up for the tall man to see. The man waves his hand at Nikkori and laughs. Nikkori frowns briefly, and the

exchange continues. After several minutes of talking and gesturing, Nikkori finally reaches deeper into the barrel, moving several oranges aside as he does so. He pulls

out an exceptionally large diamond, and shows the Portugese man, whose eyes go wide. He holds the diamond close to his face. Pulling a loupe from his pocket, he examines it carefully.

Nikkori stands with his face solid and his arms crossed as the Portugese man examines the crystal.

The tall man smiles, places the diamond in his pocket, and reaches out to shake the smaller samurai's hand. Nikkori grasps his hand briefly and then bows shallowly several times as the tall man in black tips his hat and turns to the shore. He motions to several deckhands, who rush to his side. After a few brief words as he walks to shore, the deckhands begin loading the provisions on the Kongou Maru, while some assist with the movement of lumber and the repair of the vessel.

The repairs of the Kongou Maru continue throughout the hot afternoon sun. Her crew works tirelessly with the help of the deckhands. The deckhands whistle happily, while the crew chants eerie melodies as they work.

A slow precession comes from the pier. At the head of the line is Nikkori. He wears his black armor, which has been shined to a luster. He carries his helmet under his right arm, and his face is solemn. Beside him walks the fat Chinese man he was fighting yesterday. He wears black robes with gold embroidered writing down the lapel. He carries a vase of salt, which he slowly scatters along their path as they walk. Eight stretchers are carried behind Nikkori and his friend, each by the remaining sixteen crew members of the Kongou Maru. The figures on the stretchers are covered in black cloths, and their swords rest upon them. Some of the crew wear their armor and carry their helmets in their free arms. Some are dressed in black robes similar to that of the Chinese man. The precession walks slowly and silently through the town, followed by some of the townsfolk. As they pass through the streets, several of those going about their business stop and bow low to the honored warriors and new friends; some clapping their hands together twice as they do so.

The precession disappears slowly into a grove of trees outside of town.

The Kongour Maru, while still soot covered and charred, has been repaired sufficiently to be barely seaworthy. Her central mast has been rigged with a single square sheet sewn from spare cloths on board, and her leaking has subsided to only a few buckets per hour. She still smells like burned wood and flesh, but she floats. The old herbalist continues his work embalming the corpses lined up perfectly on her bow. Most of the Kongou's remaining 16 crewmembers are gathered on the peer where Nikkori is engaged what appears to be a vicious fight with a much larger Chinese man. Both men are stripped of their shirts and glisten with sweat. The stitches above Nikkori's left eye have popped open, and he is bleeding down his face. The brawl has attracted several locals, who cheer wildly, while the crewmembers of the Kongou Maru kneel in two perfect rows watching. As Nikkori runs to the large man and throws several rapid punches in his midsection, the man grabs him around the upper arms and begins squeezing. The veins pop out in Nikkori's neck as he struggles to break free. Finally, he swings his head about, bringing his long braid about the fat man's face. With a jerk, he yanks his head back, and the end of his braid - bereft of its usual star woven into the end - snaps against his opponents head. The man drops Nikkori, and grabs his eyes briefly as the crown cheers. Nikkori steps back and waits while the fat man recovers. In a yelling rage, the fat man charges. Nikkori sidesteps, kneels, and extends his left leg. With a shout, Nikkori plants his elbow into the man's back, driving him forward. The man goes sprawling. As he rolls over, Nikkori leaps, somersaults, and lands hard on the man's chest with his left hand clutching his throat and his right readied to punch.

Out of breath, the man nods slowly, and the crowd cheers. Nikkori gets off the man, clasps his hand, and helps him up. Taking two steps back, both men bow to each other. Nikkori smiles to the man and motions to one of his kneeling crew members, who brings forward a small ornamented wakazashi in a black lacquered scabbard. Holding it in two hands, Nikkori presents the small blade to his opponent who bows as he accepts it. The man then approaches a companion, who hands him a freshly caught tuna. The man gives it to Nikkori, who also bows as he accepts the gift. Nikkori hands the tuna to one of his crewmembers, who rushes it below the deck of the Kongou Maru.

The crowd begins dispersing, chattering wildly, and Nikkori and the fat Chinese man laugh as they slap each other on the back. The fat man rushes away rapidly as Nikkori watches. As he walks away, he turns occassionally to offer a quick bow back to Nikkori, who quickly returns the bow. After about five bows, Nikkori and his crew walk back to the Kongou Maru to sample their new found feast.

I think the Andorians are fascinating. I heard somewhere that all Andorians are ambidextrous and that their antenae enable them to have superior

depth perception due to the "quadriscopic vision" that they get. True?

No, No, No it's not! Your talking the shotgun approach. My theory is more like centrifical force!! All that's left is P. Understand?

"Centrifugal force" is like a swear word in physics.

What quantum mechanics do is not exactly like the shotgun approach, as each solution is "weighted," but it is pretty close.

You remember the old television show "Knight Rider?" I would put one of those red lights on the front of the Enterprise that scanned back and forth like on the front of KITT.

I would also equip the Captain's chair with a steering wheel, gas pedal, clutch, brake, and a shifter with a nitro injector button on it - hang a few dashboard dice off the screen for fun.

I would also modify the replicators so that they absolutely would not work unless you preceeded every request with, "What do you got on tap?"

Simply  put if you work through the progression of contingencies eventually you will find P, you have to.

You know, this is a problem that has perplexed Quantum Mechanics (both the subject and the actual mechanics - the people who work with quanta - no they don't have grease under their fingernails and tags on their shirts that say "Earl" and "Bubba" but

they do call themselves "mechanics"). Cycling through the set of contingencies is the

easy part. It's knowing what the contingencies are that is difficult. In a general vague sort of way, many quantum mechanics just use all the contingencies they can

think of.

So what you're saying is that rather than throw one dart at a bullseye they throw as many as they possibly can at the wall instead, hoping one of them hits the mark? Is that it?

Yeah, that's a pretty good analogy!

A test signal spectrum with less than 10 mV systemic resolution on the first try!

Lameup, this is when a thread is going along real nice, everybody's leaving nice snappy posts and then someone drops in and posts something really lame and lameups the whole place. I think most of us have done this at least once. No pointing fingers now, and if you're saying to yourself "Well I never do that" you probably do it more than most of us. 

Ok, so it takes me a while to get used to the games threads.... I admit it!

Simply  put if you work through the progression of contingencies eventually you will find P, you have to.

You know, this is a problem that has perplexed Quantum Mechanics (both the subject and the actual mechanics - the people who work with quanta - no they don't have grease under their fingernails and tags on their shirts that say "Earl" and "Bubba" but

they do call themselves "mechanics"). Cycling through the set of contingencies is the

easy part. It's knowing what the contingencies are that is difficult. In a general vague sort of way, many quantum mechanics just use all the contingencies they can

think of.

I would definitely build an orphanage.

I thought the question was what kind of house would you build for yourself ?

Yeah, this is for what kind of "Fantasy" home you would build. Everyone would want to donate and feed the homeless and all of those good worthy things, but for the sake of the thread lets just be totally self absorbed. Pretend that all is well in the world and no one goes without. You now have $120 Million to do with as you please. What would your fantasy home look like?

 

Remember, be greedy. It's just a fantasy.

Ok, in that case, I would build a house entirely out of plexiglass, including the furniture. I think the neighbors would get a good kick out of that.

Have you ever had something that at first appears to be good fortune until you find out the punchline?

Yeah, like when the grocery store sells tuna slad snadwiches at half-off!

While the computer voice is nice, I'd also modify it slightly to talk dirty to me every now and again.

I'd also modify the replicators to send out an electric shock every time some sissy orders Earl Grey.

I'd turn the ready room into my own personal gym complete with increased artificial gravity and hologram spotters who shout things like "It's all you!" and "You da man!"

I would definitely build an orphanage.

How many real women are going to look good dressed like a Barbie doll?

Probably a heck of a lot more than the number of real men who will look good dressed like Barbie.

Ever wake up in the morning with your arm underneath you, and then panic becuase you can't find your arm, thinking you lost it in the middle of the night?

You are what you really are when nobody sees.

You have cable, about twenty feet of it neatly coiled up and laying in a corner.

 

I wish that we were guaranteed 7 seasons of Enterprise....

You definitely get 7 different seasonings of Enterprise - salty Enterprise, hot-n-spicy Enterprise, peppered Enterprise, and even cinnamon Enterprise.

I really wish I understand these new high-speed electronics before I fall asleep tonight.