To travel hopefully is a better thing than to arrive

DEAR WORLD: I AM SO SORRY. SO VERY, VERY SORRY.

Title: Kate of Nine
Rating: This ABOMINATION is rated G, but that doesn't mean it won't scar your soul.
Summary: In which Kate's co-workers discover what she does on weekends, and I make several really awful jokes.



"I came as fast as I could. What have we got?"

Megan, Peter, Curtis, and Ethan all glanced up when their boss rushed into the conference room. Then, as one, they did a double take, each of them staring at Kate Murphy's silver bodysuit, severely-coiffed hair, and the shiny metallic bits attached to her face.

Rolling her eyes, she took a seat at the table. "I was at a convention when I got your text, all right? I've won the costume contest for the past three years."

Sotto voce, Ethan asked Peter, "Do you think I'd get in trouble if I told her she could assimilate me whenever she wanted?"

Peter, who was making very sure to keep his eyes on his boss's face, replied, "I'm pretty sure, yeah."

Kate cleared her throat.

"Well," Megan said, glancing at the iPad in front of her, "the mayor's cousin definitely didn't die of natural causes. We found a blow to the head would've easily killed him. Bruising on the forearms suggests a struggle with his attacker." As an afterthought, she added, "I guess resistance really was futile."

The rest of the group snickered.

Kate looked at Curtis, raising a Borg implant-clad brow. "All right, let's get this over with. I'm sure you have a witty remark as well, Dr. Brumfield."

Curtis shrugged, shaking his head. "I was always more of a Star Wars man myself. Get yourself a copy of Princess Leia's slave costume, then we'll talk."