Today I feel like some crummy sciecne fiction. Mind you Entropop isn't exclusively a crummy fiction site. I will be incorporating other things in the future. This is just the kick I am on. So today's search will be "she held the phaser" because it incorporates both futuristic weapons and a female. Any author of grade f sci-fi's wet dream.

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Okay, I am starting to get tired of Fan Fiction. In the future I will make a policy of excluding it. This is pretty good stuff though. In that the female, Janeyway, wants to kiss her phaser as well as hold it. The site seems to be dead but I pulled it up from the google archives.
The original site was here

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"Have the Voyager originals been brainwashed yet?" the elder
Neelix clone asked.
   
"Not yet, but two of them have been give us trouble."
   
"Two?  Just two?  Kill them and be done with it."
   
"Yes, sir."

Harry stared at the woman in front of him.  He had an idea of what
was going on.  He saw the Janeways, and knew that they must have been
clones.  So the woman sitting with a phase in front of him was a B'Elanna
clone.   She held the phaser to her cheek liked she wanted to kiss it, and
sometimes she would tap it against her forehead.  Harry decided not to
move since he saw her setting the phaser to maxium.  The situation was
beginning to irritate him.  They sat like that for hours as Harry's anger slowly
built up.  He had decided that it was better to die than to sit here doing
nothing.  He began to get up, but suddenly his body twitched wildly and the
room spun away.







"I think I got main power back on line..." Kes murmured from her
station.
  "That's good, now at least we have something to fight back with,"
The doctor said.

   


When Harry awoke he found a familiar face staring wide-eyed at
him. <> He didn't know which was
worse--not knowing what was happening or doubting what he believed was
happening.
   
"What do you want?" he snapped, hoping a brave and confident
facade would protect him from whatever he might face.
   
"Don't just lie there, Starfleet, now's our chance."
   
He stared at the proffered hand; his eyes followed the arm
connected to the hand to the shoulder, then to the neck and finally to the
face. <>
   
"How do I know it's you? What if you're another clone . . . another
trick?"
   
"Harry, we don't have time. Those damn clones will be here any
minute, and I have a feeling they won't be as patient as last time."

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Allright, that's all for now, I'm off to buy the wednsday advertiser (crummy sensationalist local source of news) because it includes an employment section. The problem with sleeping in till 2 is that one is often haunted with disturbing dreams whose subjects primarly revolve on the horror of unemployment.