OOC: Sorry about the delay, but I'm in the middle of spring break. Have fun guys, and I'll try to post more often. Besides, there's not much for a cook to do in battle :).

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A line had formed at the security checkpoint on deck 12 when Vincent arrived. Looking over the crew in the line, he noticed that several of them belonged to security, but a few people in the line looked like they didn't belong. Why did security have to call on crewmembers from other departments, Rogers thought. Were they so stretched out that they needed the support of a cook? Vincent thought about it for a moment, but was interrupted by a familiar voice.

"Boss?" Frobo called out as he walked up behind Vincent. Startled out of thought, Vincent nearly jumped out of his uniform to face his blue-skinned co-worker.

"Frobo, what are you doing here?"

"Oh, I was called to help with security. Hey, maybe we'll work together, to save the ship from the enemy threat!"

Vincent stood there in complete shock. Working with Frobo was bad enough, but Frobo carrying a phaser was a daunting prospect. He would have gone on further, but he was interrupted by one of the ensigns passing out weapons.

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Vincent and Frobo walked down the corridor still a quarter of a kilometer from the turbolift. They were stationed to guard the upper computer core in case the Romulans somehow managed to beam aboard and try to take things from there. Nothing about this arrangement made sense to Vincent as he listened to his blue friend's incessant humming of his world anthem.

*Why were Frobo and I called for security? Are our security teams stretched out so thin? Perhaps security is split between the saucer and stardrive, but it doesn't explain having to call cooks into battle. If I only had computer access, I might could find out what on earth they were thinking.*

Frobo stopped his humming and began looking around, which greatly startled Vincent. Watching his little blue co-worker, Vincent realized what he was doing when the fellow pulled off the grating to one of the repair tunnels.

"What are you doing, Frobo?"

"I saw some security guy do this yesterday, when they were looking for a saboteur. He crawled in, and later crawled out. When I tried it out, I found a wonderful shortcut to a service turbolift that should take us right where we want to go."

"Shortcut? What do you mean?" Vincent asked, but it was too late. Frobo had already crawled through the vent and was making his way down the shaft. Vincent thought about this for a moment, then slapped his forehead.

*Frobo's lost his mind. Perhaps he found a repair tunnel that lead to a turbolift before, but this probably isn't the right one. Augh! No wonder the Klingons nearly wiped them off the face of their planet. But, if he gets caught or killed be machinery, it's my head. I should go after him to see that he doesn't get hurt.*

Vincent crawled through the grating, taking care to close it back off so that no one would notice *in case* they managed to pull this one off.

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Vincent finally managed to catch up with Frobo several meters down the tube. Seeing his little blue co-worker, Vincent noticed that Frobo's phaser was strapped to his side, pointing directly behind him. Rogers shuttered to think what might happen if that thing were to go off, when the worst happened.

The disrupter beam struck the stardrive, causing the inertial dampers to falter just a bit. The rocking of the vessel knocked Frobo against the side of the tube...the side where his phaser hung. In a flash of light, the phaser fired an energy blast, which hit the area of tunnel right under Vincent's hands and knees. This atomized the floor under Rogers, and managed to burn his hands and knees quite well.

Vincent fell through the atomized floor and 6 meters down to the flooring beneath. The impact was enough to make his hands give way, and his head firmly collided with the flooring beneath. As everything seemed to dim in Vincent's eyes, his mind held on to one last thought.

*Damn you Murphy. Damn you and your stupid law!* --Ken Domana.k.a. Yeoman Vincent RogersMess Hall CookICQ: 8178648 Try Depends, your answering machine for when nature calls. This message was Closed Captioned for the visually impaired.