There are many ways to be creative – artwork, writing, music, working on our favorite television series, etc. We’d love to see your submissions!

To that end, I am going to post a story written by a former member of the USS Kelly. I know he would want to share it with you.

LATINUM TOE, or The Spy Who Stunned Me (a Seventh Fleet Tale) by George Bogler

Quirm smiled to himself. This hand would be the one to make him rich. The one that would give him respect in his new employer’s eyes. He had spent the last two hours carefully cheating, winning just enough to be considered a mediocre player. Now it was time for the kill. the chips on the table represented over 100 bars of gold-pressed latinum, and it was all his.

Trivoy smiled to herself. this hand would be the one to make her rich, as well as giving her the opportunity she had come looking for. The chips on the table represented over 100 bars of gold-pressed latinum, and she was holding four Jacks. It was all hers, yet as much as she looked forward to winning, she also would be very happy to wipe the self-satisfied smirk off the ugly face of the loathsome Ferengi across from her. He had joined the game when she had, two hours ago, and had won only a hand or two. However he had gotten lucky somehow & won the last three hands. Each time his gloating got more insufferable.

The Englishman sitting next to Trivoy signaled for a waitress. “Vodka martini,” he ordered in a suave, but halting voice. “Poured, not replicated.”

The betting had progressed around the table, by the time the Englishman’s drink arrived. The waitress was bumped while serving the drink and her bare arm brushed against Quirm’s ear. “Watch what you’re doing, you clumsy fe-male,” he barked.

The Englishman raised an eyebrow.

“It’s your bet, Ferengi,” grumbled one of the other players – a Bolian.

“Very well,” replied Quirm. “I’ll see your slip, and raise you two strips.”

The Bolian debated a moment, then tossed his cards to the table. “Beaten by the damn Ferengi,” he cursed.

“The bet is to you, Miss Pursuit,” prompted Quirm.

“Right,” answered Trivoy. “Your two strips, and two more.”

The Englishman covered the bet.”Call.”

Trivoy laid down her four Jacks. “Well played, Madam,” the Englishman conceded as he displayed his two pair: tens and eights.

Quirm was the only one left. He was positively cackling as he lay down his cards one at a time, prolonging his victory: one, two, three, and finally four Kings. As he started scooping up the chips, the Englishman stood and moved directly behind the Ferengi. “I wouldn’t celebrate just yet, Quirm,” he said, then grabbed the Ferengi’s ears and pulled hard.

The ears came off, revealing circuitry and wires leading into Quirm’s real, though only slightly smaller, ears. The Englishman explained. “He’s been receiving transmissions from a spotter. Someone was positioned in the room in such a way as to see everyone’s cards. He probably would have been roving to seem less suspicious.”

Shortly thereafter, Trivoy finished giving her statement to Security and noticed the Englishman at the bar. “Thank you for exposing that Ferengi cheat. I would have been wiped out if he had won that pot.”

“Think nothing of it. It was the least I could do.” He gave Trivoy a warm smile.

“Nevertheless, I am grateful. Can I buy you a drink, Mr…”

“Bondkirk,” he replied. “James T Bondkirk.”