STO Seasonal Infinity

hawku001x

Yoip! Consolidating all my STO seasonal entries so it isn't a scatter of threads all over. These fiction entries are based on each season, starting with Season 19, in much the same vein as the ULCs (rip 2019) and LCs (rip 2014) were, using any elements, whatever's new, or themes from said season. I may also include any new Risa/Winter Wonderland entries.

This was previously meant as the discussion thread and index but this will now be re-purposed in order to centralize everything.

hawku001x

Season #19 | Legacy: Metaphysical Moralizer
Tumultuous Turmoil

The Pathfinder-class with Discovery-class nacelles U.S.S. Ragnarok splurged erratically and spasmodically through space until arriving upon the near orbit of the seemingly barren world of Excalbia.

"Ah, I missed this place. But no satellite repair at Traelus then?" surmised Captain Seifer, a Trill and Starfleet officer from his command chair. "I had my tool kit ready and everything."

Aramaki, a human and the Tactical officer, took notice of the archaic tool box and set at the Captain's feet. "You know none of those would have done anything to fix a satellite, right?"

"Lieutenant Commander, when you're an engineer, I'll listen to your half-cockeyed, bright-eyed, space-mad opinions!" Seifer countered. "And you better have a Scottish accent, otherwise what’s the point."

Suddenly, the viewscreen clicked on, showing a steaming pile of sentient rocks on the surface. "Ragnarok, I am Varnket, and since before your sun burned hot in space, I have awaited your arrival."

"I can tell by the way you’re Guardian of Forever-ing that you’ve grown impatient for a meeting I was not privy to," Seifer observed. "But just pulling people out of nowhere is no way to conduct proper intergalactic relations. Also, that whole rock thing makes us think you’re just mountains."

Varnket jolted in reaction. "We are willing to experiment with good and evil identities and behaviours! What of you, an apparent grey area of both?"

"Uh, the Federation is the epitome of what some alien races have constructed as ‘good’," the Captain countered. "Just last week, we loaded a displaced colony of disheveled Bajorans onto a freighter. Of course, their uprooting was my ship’s fault when we accidentally annihilated their colony world’s atmosphere, but that’s neither here nor there."

The pile of rocks glowed hot. "We need not be lectured by you. We were out saving the galaxy when your grandfather adorned diapers!" Then it relaxed. "We really enjoyed that short stint of your Kirk and Picard crossing paths, despite the anti-climactic old-people brawl in a very hot place."

"Ooohh! One of your own has escaped you, yes? Yes?" blurted a guessing Lieutenant Edwards, a human from the Helm console. "Evil begets resistance! Resistance begets revolution!"

Varnket breathed a rock-breath of admission. "This must be what we have heard as the infamous ‘truth bomb’. For, you see, the one we call Klarvel has run off for reasons we can only assume would reveal a personal truth about ourselves."

"Finally! A banter that gets to the mission-giving part before lunch. The dev episode writers sure are more liberal these days," Seifer relayed. "But what motivation do I have to find this Klarvel and teach him the ways of the Federation, minus the Section 31 part?"

Breathing in excitement, Varnket added. "Perhaps this: To aid you in your quest, we have recreated your most successful explorer ever, Christopher Columbus."

"Live long and get famous!" came the sly, confident remark of Columbus as he stepped through the rear turbolift doors in full 15th century sea navy garb. "That is a new catch phrase I am trying out."

Seifer was taken aback. "Christopher Columbus? He was the American hero who discovered America and that the world was round! It's what I learned in my Intro to Earth's Affectations class."

"Captain Seifer, is this an emergency uniform situation?" Aramaki asked.

The Trill nodded. "Yes. Computer, initiate Multi-Vector Odyssey Dress Uniform Sequence!" Suddenly, white uniforms unfurled from above everyone's workstation. "Alright, everyone. Let's help each other clasp the front pull-over. We’re all in this together. Teamwork, people!"

---

Later, the Ragnarok sped through space, with the crew noticeably dressed up, on the Bridge. Columbus walked around, inspecting everyone's console.

"Sprezzatura! Me gusta! Que bonito!" he commented passed each one. "What nationality am I again?"

Seifer maintained a look out at the screen. "Some European hybrid, I believe. They couldn't get Kahn right either. As for the adulations directed, they are well justified as long-range sensors have picked up the signature of positronic rock!"

"All I did was re-modulate the Federation-mandated constant long-range scans for positronic signature," Aramaki explained. "Hard to believe they make us consume 50% of power resources for that in an effort to boost Argo use."

Columbus slapped Aramaki on the back. "And it was my idea that you do a thing, was it not? It is good to have an expendable crew again!"

"Uh, what is the point of having this guy here? He's not even the real Columbus," Winry, the Chief Engineer and a human, pointed out.

The copy repulsed. "You dare question me? I was the first to travel the Atlantic Ocean!"

"The Vikings beat you to that by about 400 years," Winry countered before the Ragnarok dropped warp in front of the passenger freighter Elysium.

Seifer stood. "Speaking of Kelvin-timeline-level break-neck speeds, our capture of our rock 'friend'," Seifer paused to take a moment to make air-quotes, "is complete."

"Captain, you've repeatedly forbade us to use the term 'friends' in a sarcastic manner," Aramaki pointed out.

The Trill shrugged. "Yeah, but I didn't forbid me from doing it. Also, I want Columbus to learn our ways as he will lead an Away Team to the transport to deal with the situation."

"Sir, no!" Winry objected. "He's a man out-of-time with absolutely nothing of profession to add to the mission!"

Seifer tilted his head, unconvinced. "Um, he can handle it. Columbus historically settled the first European colony in Haiti 1492. A feat none of you took in all the time serving on this 25th century inter-planetary spaceship."

"Captain, when he returned the following year, none of those people were found alive," Tomsin, the Tellarite and operations officer corrected.

His commanding officer pointed a contentious finger. "You dare contradict me with facts? You know there's no room for those in a debate. It's always who's the loudest and who's the most annoying. You're relieved!"

---

Later, Seifer boarded the front-heavy Elysium to join the Away Team and find all of its Bajoran occupants enslaved by Christopher Columbus and the sentient rock creature known as Klarvel.

"Dammit. This failure is a predicable reflection of myself," Seifer clamoured. "The dev writers must be taking a lesson in contrived obviousness."

While unhappy Bajorans continued in procession, carrying cargo on their backs from one end to another, Aramaki replied, "Captain, these are the colonists we liberated from that dying world, remember? Columbus has taken a mentor role of Klarvel and a master role of the refugees."

"It is the way of things— trademarked!" Columbus asserted to both Seifer and Klarvel. "These people will make great stock as slaves and wives for farmers who all day tend to their land."

Seifer was taken aback. "Dude. You're a slave trader? Only the Orions are socially, morally and legally allowed to do that."

"You really did not do any research on who I am, did you? Just like most people, they would not realize that I would do anything to commit a healthy genocide of any inferior species so that I may reign supreme," Columbus claimed. "Perhaps I'm being too revealing of my nature. Is this too revealing?"

The Captain snapped. "Yes! You were supposed to be a delightful treat of the old days! Also, America!"

"You really should try Canada. As for me, it turns out the rocks of the future are quite receptive. I must write the King and Queen of Spain immediately."

Klarvel affirmed. "This simulacrum has taught me the value of subjugation and humanoid acquisition. My own people struggle with the indecisiveness of good and evil, but I assert such concepts are artificial constructs of value with origins in people just deciding what goes where."

"What the Spock's-brain? If value systems are manufactured, then at least construct one that bolsters society through maintaining individual freedom and mutual respect?? Otherwise you get Remans," Seifer explained. "I heard they used to look attractive like Deltans."

The over-active pile of steaming rocks shuffled in response. "That is perhaps far too much work for an entity like myself with no opposable thumbs. Also, where is the Kahn-level control? Is every person just supposed to be trusted to have the intelligence to maintain goals of the greater purpose?"

"Yes!" Seifer bellowed. "That's basically 21st century Earth before World War 3!"

Suddenly, the piled rocks at the other end of the passenger section, placed by the Bajorans, began lighting up until a portal was generated in an open section.

"Unfortunately, Excalbian takes on alien history are always distorted. Did you see that recreation of Kahless? Looked nothing like the clone your Worf discovered," Klarvel established. "I had these Columbus-inspired Bajoran slaves form kemocite-mixed rock in a complex pattern that activates intergalactic portals."

Captain Seifer took himself aback for the second time. "You Guardian of Forever'd??"

"Well, without the time-travel. It's more Iconian-y, really," Klarvel said as he grabbed Columbus and threw him through the portal. "Do not bother looking for us. I can blend in with any of your underground Away Team mission backdrops, and Columbus can do a very good boulder impression when he pulls his knees up to his chin."

To that, the Excalbian leapt through the portal, kicking one of its corners loose to collapse it on his way out. Seifer turned to the Bajoran slaves.

"Good news. You're free!"

Yun, one of the slaves, crossed his arms. "You're terrible."

hawku001x

Season #20 | House Divided: Unending Klingon
Regulatory Reticle

The Negh'Tev-class I.K.S. Kragoth wrangled inexplicably through space until coming to a complete stop. It rendezvoused with the Sojourner-class U.S.S. Viracocha.

"Why are you flying through warp like that?" Captain Aeris, a human and Starfleet officer, asked from her ship via viewscreen. "It must be all spindly and dizzying."

Captain Menchez, a Klingon and Klingon Defense Force officer, sat at his command chair aboard his vessel. "Honestly, we've been at this for so long, any maneuver that derives stimuli is more than welcome."

"Sir, to be honest, I have not looked at my console while using it for weeks!" Lieutenant Kinna admitted from the helm in pure unadulterated fear of her own failings.

The elderly man nodded in approval of the Klingon woman’s folly before he was cut off by Aeris again. "Nevermind that! We have the prisoner, J'Ula's bald cousin Dova'ch, of House Mo'Kai. After his attempt to commandeer a Federation starship, he spent some time being mind-erased of any sensitive information by our never-talked-about Romulan branch."

"What do you even have to hide? The secrets of soft pillows and comforting conversation?" Menchez criticized. "Seems like you guys are always trying too hard. Anyway, just send him back to us, so my crew can all take turns snarling at him. Our teeth have been anxious to bare for a month! And doing it to each other is just weird. Like, dating a Talaxian weird.”

---

Later, the Kragoth was back to warp, and Menchez and a few of his crew stood around a seated and wrist-clasped Dova'ch in the ship's Conference room.

"Talk! Who started the first Klingon war at the Battle of the Binaries!" RaeLuna, a half-human/green-alien and the First officer, snapped.

Dova'ch squirmed. "It was Michael Burnham just for the sake of meaningless drama and action when nobody asked! Ahh!"

"Commander, that was 155 years ago. Stop trying to learn our history through word-of-mouth," Menchez diverted his subordinate. "You are being one of those ancient-hipsters, which was revolutionary in their time, but now old."

The bald Klingon in the chair looked up at his captors. "Don't listen to your petaQ of a Captain. Old is still relevant. The House of Mo'Kai will combine old and new, supreme, and you will all fall into shambles!"

"Honestly, what's the difference between you or any other Klingon Great House on the High Council?" Ulkegh, the Operations manager and a Klingon, parsed. "The point is for a functioning government and a stable economy and we already have one?"

Dova'ch spat. "Yes, but none of you have the high-resolution darkness and severe gravitas of our hardcore, flesh-eating multi-coloured Kahleesssshhhhh love."

"Ugh. Just, please stop saying it like that," Vato, the Tactical officer and a Klingon, necessitated. "We already had a thoroughly developed mythos, accent, look and feel, and you guys just ignored that, shaved your heads and tried to reboot out of what I can only surmise was pure ignorance."

The prisoner tried to spit again, but was out. "You killed a franchise with a terrible budget! The Defense Force one, I mean." He continued, "We brought upon new interest and cultivated a heavy subscription base!"

"Uh, yeah, history records there was a subscription to weekly Federation-hate-rationalizing speeches," Kinna clarified. "I agree, the Humans are soft-Targ-jelly in gagh paste, but to immediately jump to deception through their declaring of peace was conclusion-jumping ignorance of the highest order even for a Klingon."

Dova'ch tried to break free from his chair. "You dare counter your own elderly, grandfatherly, ancestor from days gone yore!? J'Ula brought us forward in time and I promise I will use my presence to guilt-trip you all into submission! Mo'Kai is Kahlesssshhh!!"

"Honestly, I'm not sure why I keep inviting my entire crew into interrogations," Menchez questioned before turning back to Dova'ch. "Also, relax. We're handing you back to your house. You see, your over-dramatization of pretty much everything would drive today's Klingons, even the Rura Penthe prison guards, into Riker-Frame-of-Mind-levels of madness."

Barret, the Chief engineer and a Klingon, shuddered in revulsion. "Or, Kahless-forbid, Commodore-Decker-levels."

---

The Kragoth dropped warp and was then met with the Ba'ul sentry vessel Kaleidoscope. A handcuffed Dova'ch was brought to the Bridge, where Menchez's crew took their stations.

"What the Grethor? This is supposed to be a known Mo'Kai meeting spot.” Menchez observed. "They have a book club on Wednesdays and were recently reviewing Klingon Hamlet."

Dova'ch nodded. "taH pagh taHbe'! That means 'To be or not to be'. Look at me, translating Klingon for other Klingons." He chuckled. "What next, discussing our secret shame, the Augment virus? We all know about it."

"Sir, these vessels are from 154 years ago, so they should pose no threat," Ulkegh asserted. "Just like the Kelvin Timeline Constitutions and the Crossfields."

Menchez was taken aback. "Are you kidding me? Those are all T6'd like they matter now! Nothing makes sense anymore!"

"Oh, I assure you, the significance of these is quite relevant," Dova'ch asserted. "For, you see, I've allied with a Ba'ul to further my advantage in this new century! His sentry mode will automate drone vessels patrolling any sector to assist."

Everyone watched as ten more obelisk shaped Ba'ul ships dropped warp and positioned themselves in an upright stance, surrounding the Kaleidoscope so it could harness their power.

"So, what you're saying is, there are Ba'ul ships in every sector of space, just waiting to be called upon at a moment's notice?" Vato asked, genuinely curious. "And their only way to fare old tech vs new tech competitiveness is to stack their power?"

Dova'ch stood up from his seat in triumph. "Exactly! If one isn’t enough, you pile ten more on and see if that works! Hahaha!"

"Please do not perform a Demi Lovato victory dance," begged RaeLuna.

Before her request could be unilaterally denied by the ambitiously bald Kling-orc, the House Mo'Kai Qugh-class battlecruiser Descent dropped warp to everyone’s collective chagrin.

"This is Hin'jagh of the House everybody loves to hate! Just because some of us like killing without honour, suddenly we're ‘the bad Klingons’," Hin'jagh generously air-quoted from the view screen.

Menchez stepped forward. "We are literally here to hand this Sa'Hut right back to you guys in an effort to avoid having any more to do with you."

"Enough of this white noise contention! You will indulge in Mo'Kai out-group debauchery because we have just the same right to exist as any of the many, many versions of Klingon!" And then, “Many.”

The Captain rolled his eyes. "That's just apologist justification and backward reboot bias."

"You're splitting hairs, Menchez!" countered Dova'ch. "In this case, non-hairs. You see, I cannot wait to further our maddening, high-rage velocity, now with blood wine barrels, head-butting appreciation, and songs of victories in battle!"

Hin'Jagh blinked on screen. "What are you talking about, Dova'ch? We don't do any of that. It's holo-communications, corpse bedazzling hulls or bust!"

"It would not harm us to try the pain stick ceremony, or a Federation exchange program, or perhaps a Dominion war camp where we take down Jem'Hadar after Jem'Hadar," Dova'ch interjected. "There is much hardcore edge to us, that we can afford to facilitate what I believe would be adaptation into this century."

The other bald Klingon regurgitated. "Like colossal piles of Ba'ul towers and starship holo conversions into giant targs?? You did those. You!"

"The Federation did have a go at Wiki-editing this Kling-orc's mind of late," Menchez evoked. "Perhaps the nullifying effect has now decayed extravagance into generic 25th century Klingon conducts?"

Hin'Jagh spat from a heavy reserve. "The absorption into the future is the extravagance! It's just another form of it. What's next? A slew of half-Klingon, half-Human hybrids with attitudes?? Mo'Kai will have no more to do with this man or any of his out-of-lock box thinking!"

"Competition is nothing if we do not evolve into Klingon one-liners and terrible single-fathering stacked with custom hyperbole-infused monologues and multi-cloned offspring!" Dova'ch announced before the Kaleidoscope powered up its Ba'ul ship-dressed antiproton beam at both the Kragoth and a heavier one at the Descent.

Everyone, on each ship, were thrown down in momentary chaos and Dova'ch was transported off the Kragoth and onto the Ba'ul vessel.

"Captain! Forward shields went down for 10 seconds," Vato reported from his console. "The Descent has sustained severe damage and the Kaleidoscope is going to warp."

The screen split to show the Ba'ul vessel and its friends popcorn out of normal space on one side, and on the other, a roughed up Hin'Jagh climbing his upper body onto a console.

"That Yintagh is going to tell J'Ula on us! This is just like the time he make-shifted a barrel of petrified Suliban into a monkey rope!"

Menchez widened his eyes to near-Gowron levels. "I did not know you could do that."

"This is a single Klingon with ideas against a brute-force species with massively wrinkled fore and back heads like never seen before. We are not here to be thinkers or tell good stories. He could destroy our entire house if he spreads a habit of musing and layered characterization," Hin'jagh argued.

The elder Klingon shook his head. "Everyone evolves. We change to adapt. It doesn't matter what that change entails, so long as it ensures survivability. Dova'ch's actions here today are not to destroy your house, but rather strengthen it."

"You dare philosophize us!" the Mo'Kai commander yelled. "Engineering! Get the Jiffy Pop Drive back online and prepare to go full pop!"

The Descent buckled down on repairs, leaving the Kragoth to stew in its House Mo'Kai engagement.

"Fascinating," Menchez surmised. "I believe we are witnessing the amendment of the old-type of Klingon to the new. Indeed, it was an Augment Virus that changed them physically and then back again, but something must have changed them mentally. Perhaps all they needed was inspiration."

RaeLuna perked. "So, they're Canon after all?" And then, to explain, "Canon is the name of a commercial brand of Earth photography equipment that I am serving as an analogy for differing versions of things requiring validation."

"I like it!" the old Captain snapped as he made his way to the back of the Bridge. "Everything we do is Canon. To that, I am off to take a dip in the bloodwine pool on Deck 7 that every Klingon ship has. Qapla'!"

The Bridge crew replied in solidarity, "Qapla'!"

hawku001x

Season #20 | Reverse Summerology
Sea of Artifacts

The Dominion vanguard heavy raider D.V. Lyngon-5328 dropped warp at Risa. Kurok’Tekan beamed down to the resort dock where a whirlwind of excitement and activity by aliens of all species and factions flourished over the Lohlunut Festival.

"First to Feylou. Confirming I have entered the erratic populace without weapons, as ordered," he tapped his wrist device.

The communique was re-routed through long-range subspace. "Excellent! Like we discussed, I want you to experience the festivities and learn to have something the Alpha Quadrantians call ‘fun’. Vorta, out!"

"Fun?" Kurok’Tekan repeated in confusion to himself before he realized a Romulan female in Risian summer-wear was leaning against a protruding dock pole next to him, staring.

She jerked her chin up in acknowledgement of him. "Fun: An accelerated exploration of frivolity and an appreciation for the absurd."

"Jem'Hadar do not have 'fun'," Kurok'Tekan asserted. "We succeed in 'victory' and maintain stone-faced non-reactions when achieved."

The woman tossed him an object. "Would you consider this stone-faced-worthy? A replica Tox Uthat artifact. Whoever finds the rarest objects around here becomes the most victorious of them all." She smirked. "I'm Captain Kitsu of the R.R.W. Sentinel. I could use a man of your bait."

"It would seem you have a misplaced faculty on how to utilize Jem'Hadar, but very well."

---

With Kurok'Tekan now in Risa-appropriate wear, the two had been scanning for hours through the sandy pathways around the tropical island mountains. Kitsu then glimpsed Kurok’Tekan’s settings.

"Ah, well there’s your problem. You have it on Burnham instead of Original Kirk,” she pointed to his tricorder. “She was an earlier, more dramatically flawed incarnation with supposedly Vulcan attributes, but you’re never going to get that retro aesthetic.”

The Jem’Hadar First recalibrated the device and the two were immediately presented with a rapid alert notification.

“Yes! There’s a mound of protruding sand over there, as if someone didn’t understand what burying actually is!” Kitsu exclaimed before tapping his shoulder to indicate Kurok’Tekan to continue while she hid.

The scaly, reptilian-like man approached and dug out the artifact, discovering a collector’s plate. “George and Gracie,” he examined before realizing, “It would appear I had the tricorder set to Original Blouse Kirk.”

"That's the worst one, but I'll take it over any universe-version, any day!" exclaimed the cry of a Klingon warrior dropping a flying kick for Kurok'Tekan out of nowhere, not expecting his attacking leg to be intercepted by Kitsu.

The now-revealed Romulan woman flung him around, repowering his momentum to send him several meters away. "So, there you are, Captain Kadaj of the I.K.S. Zampano. Done addicting to Augment injections?"

"As done as you are with Iconian antiproton cell infusion," Kadaj replied, landing on his feet and taking a fighting stance.

Kurok'Tekan watched as the two opponents ran for each other and began clashing fist after wrist after fist. "It appears as if you are acquainted by some commonality of body modification."

"We used to be in the RP threads," Kitsu explained while blocking a kick and then returning a kick of her own. "Oh, RP stands for Revolution Pangs. We played revolt-for-hire for any Bajoran-like groups that couldn't get themselves out of being stuck in map vectors."

Kadaj dodged and force-palmed her down, simultaneously. "But the RPs fizzled out, so now we compete with each other for artifacts on this pleasure world of unending sex and sexual encounters but-not-calling-it-sex."

"The constant fast-paced action appears to be a by-product of your time in the RPs, as well as your way of relaxation," Kurok'Tekan observed seconds before a Human in a floater zoomed passed over-head, laughing.

The Romulan leapt to her feet and saw him getting away. "You bet it is. And, that man is the fastest-paced-most-relaxed of us all," she explained. "Engage running!"

---

Soon, the three found themselves chasing the man to the sandy beaches to the side of the resort, where he landed with his tricorder, having found a large mound of buried artifact.

"There's nothing like a good six-hour scan in the morning, to start and by-pass half your day," he declared, while his one android arm began digging the mound.

When the three caught up, Kitsu smirked, "Captain Elric of the U.S.S. Amaterasu."

"Why do you always say it like that? We already know who and what ships we command," Elric parsed. "In my case, my last ship was engulfed and near-destroyed by holographic tribble."

Kadaj stepped forward. "She is making it easy on the newcomer! Also, your late arrival dilutes any claim of you being the fastest out of all of us."

"My android implants certify I have enough time to give you two a substantial lead," Elric said as he dusted off the tip of a blue corner. He then used his arm to pull the entire 2.5-meter telephone booth out of the beach.

Kurok'Tekan tilted, confused. "Your implants appear to have uncovered an ancient Earth communications device. The populace used to upload to something they called Instagram."

"You're decades off," Kitsu addendumed. "It's more likely an inter-dimensional time travel device. It at least is in some alternate universes!" Kitsu then sped into Elric's personal space and engaged in immediate multi-punches and redirects.

Elric followed suit and returned her attacks with his own fists and blocks while Kurok'Tekan intercepted Kadaj's advances emulating the convention of kicks and jabs. "This is a universe of high-octane Risa I could get used to," the Jem'Hadar capitulated while using his forearm to block a kick.

"It's true. Uncovering history is just so intense!" Kitsu claimed as she jumped into the air to meet Elric's instigated mid-air attack.

Kadaj and Kurok'Tekan exchanged redirects and spins until the Jem'Hadar hard-punched the Klingon back and into the phone booth. The device began to light up and send lightning currents all around the beach and ocean water. Suddenly, artifacts of all kinds emerged out from energized connections and settled as enriching beach liter for all to enjoy.

"What is it when history uncovers itself?" Elric asked as he and Kitsu landed to take in the unrelenting treasure.

Kurok'Tekan watched as a Ferengi named Sovak approached in pure exaltation. "It's the Ferengi version of kismet, is what it is! Yes, yes! You have found what I was really looking for!" He pulled Kadaj out of the booth and began examining it.

"Grand Nagus Rom?" the Jem'Hadar questioned.

Sovak waved him off. "Why does everyone mistake me for him? In any case, that ancient communications pod is the genius product of the Ferengi Corps of Engineering trying to be as savvy with temporal mechanics as your Crewman Daniels somewhere, sometime. Unfortunately, using latinum for the quantum intermix wiring sent this thing into all kinds of non-profiting crazy."

"Sooooo, you're not that genius Engineer from Deep Space 9 that was suddenly thrust upon the highest throne of the Ferengi Alliance?" Kitsu re-asked.

The poor, money-deprived man slammed his fists into the booth's internal console in frustration.

"I am so sick of hearing how I look just like that unworthy luck-stricken half-man! I mean, Leeta? He gets Leeta, and I get nothing! We have the same teeth!"

Suddenly the booth was powered up again and energized lightning struck out its top to all the artifacts again, sending them into oblivion and Sovak out and onto his back upon the sand.

"NOOOO!" Sovak yelped as he watched the phone booth also disappear in a spectacular, energized flash. "I could have been the one to organize a Union, or catch a meaningless baseball! All I ever did was hold up Picard and it wasn’t even for that long!”

Kurok'Tekan regrouped with Kitsu, Kadaj and Elric. "I must admit, the comeuppance of this Ferengi is more victory than I have ever experienced in the Dominion."

"Dude, and you must have killed a ton of people over there," Kadaj added as Kurok'Tekan nodded in agreement.

Elric turned to Kadaj. "You know Klingons don't say 'dude,' right?"

"I know separate things than you. That's what I know," Kadaj countered. "Also, that Alliance Command wants all of us to join as a fleet. Khitomer Battle Fleet Theta to be precise. I should have started with that."

Kitsu placed her hands on her hips. "Well, that wouldn't be so bad after all. Right, Kurok'Tekan? Maybe even fun?"

"Victory shall be ours," the Jem'Hadar stated after a brief pause. "Query: What is this Dance Party they keep spouting at the resort?"

Kadaj grabbed Kurok'Tekan's shoulders to get his attention. "Ohhh man! You are in for a gathering of oddities! What do you know about the Snake, or Raising the Roof?"

"Nothing," he replied as the group of four began a slow walk back to the summer base. "Although I do have an interest in learning something called the Samba."

Kitsu grabbed him back. "Then get ready for double that, and a chaotic dance off to Macklemore & Ryan Lewis between all four of us to determine who's the best pop-and-locker."

"By the way," Elric interjected. "How are you for body modifications that increase your agility and give you an attention deficit? Ever tried ketracel Suliban?"

hawku001x

Season #21 | House Shattered: Too Much Klingon
Fanatical Online

The Qugh-class I.K.S. Descent sat out in the vast coldness of cold, vast, unfriendly space, next to the Ba'ul sentry vessel Kaleidoscope. The bald Captain Dova'ch, of the revived House Mo'Kai, took a seat in his chair as communications opened to the Ba'ul.

"Now that I have this vessel back, I will do all the things!" he declared.

The dripping, black, creepy form of his Ba'ul companion, John, appeared on screen. "It was a pleasure to assist you. If you're wondering about why I have a Human name, it is because my Uncle was named John."

"For all the time I've known you, I have always wanted to ask you that," Dova'ch admitted. "Anyway, your assistance in apprehending the previous commander of this vessel, Hin'jagh, has been more than honourable. Thank you."

John dripped a pointing finger. "We both have control complexes. It's that commonality with which we have bonded. What I wouldn’t do for a colony of subjugated Kelpiens right now. But, when you were aboard this vessel, you developed your J'Ula's mycelial weapon, without my knowledge."

"To be fair, you sleep a lot," Dova'ch emphasized. "Also, I thought I was going to beat her in the new modifications a-la classic family rivalry, but it turns out said changes bring upon a cesspool of Solanae-copying, mushroom-obsessed Elachi."

The Ba’ul black goo nodded. "Yeah, they creep me out."

"So, I reverted to the previous settings that brought us to the 25th century to begin with," Dova’ch continued. "The difference being that it is now Ba’ul technology, so it will time-jump me in reverse."

John hovered his slimy hand over the button on his console. "That checks out due to our culture being all about transposing situations. Reference: Kelpiens."

"You guys did the best you could before those delicious main courses turned on you. Anyway, that button is pressure sensitive, so when you press it, make sure it's part-way enough to send us to the beginning of 2409 at the height of the Klingon-Federation war, but not too middle-ground so we start at The Vault."

The Ba'ul acknowledged, connecting its exuding appendage to the clean console before a large tear in the Mycelial network engulfed the Descent and sent it barreling through time.

---

Dova'ch awoke in the temporal chamber with Crewman Daniels. 16:9 and 4:3 aspect ratio captured video of events throughout recognizable time flew all around them.

"No. Just, no!" Daniels protested. "You are a bane on the timeline and all events therein! You're responsible for all early Starfleet ships having holographic communications!”

Dova'ch got to his feet. "But at least there are still bald, overly-face-detailed Klingons by the time of Kirk, yes?"

“They're supposed to be ridgeless! The whole thing makes no sense! And why are there holes in the pylons of the original Enterprise??”

The wide-eyed Mo’Kai cousin then pointed behind Daniels. “Hey. Is that a Discovery-era shuttle?”

“You bet it is. They're all over the timeline thanks to you!” gritted Daniels, turning to look. But when he did, Dova’ch took the distraction as an opportunity to flash himself out and back into the time-stream.

---

He then found himself passing through a sea of Daniels’ screens, showing newly rendered visualizations of around the Klingon Empire. A background voice broke through, capturing some random Klingon’s monologue, somewhere, sometime. "For too long we have turned our hearts from the path our father's laid. Now it is your duty to serve the Empire. Fight with passion and earn your place in halls of Sto-vo-kor. By the blood of Kahless, it will be glorious!"

Dova’ch then found himself on night-watch as the Second Officer aboard a Klingon Bird-of-Prey at the Tutorial mission of the past. He approached the Lieutenant below him, to approve duty logs.

"We are warriors! We should be finding glory against Starfleet," the officer rebutted.

Dova'ch widened his eyes. "I agree! And I've done it by going back in time, and it worked! Isn't time travel an amazing concept that is brand new and fresh??"

"NuqneH! Temporal shenanigans is a pitiful excuse to add intellectual complexity to any mission," touted the Captain as he walked in. "Any Worf-schmorf can do it. I relieve you!"

---

But Dova'ch continued on in victorious glee, stopping a Galaxy-class Starfleet ship from intercepting their Section 31 prisoner, besting his Captain for command, and unveiling the Tal Shiar collaboration within House Torg until they were dissolved.

"Now that was a warrior's battle!" bragged Dova'ch to an unsuspecting lower-ranked officer. "I expected the Fek'lhri to return, but not to be sent to and confirmed that Gre'thor exists!"

Antika, his tactical officer, turned to him. "Yes, but a new Dominion almost returning? And the resurgence of the Borg? It is all too much for a single year."

"Or, not enough? I am eager to see what 2410 brings us," admitted the Captain. "And our supplimental goal must also be to re-acquire the 23rd century era vessel, Descent. I've come to learn it is in a Bolian junk yard, being stuffed with all the saved cut Klingon hair from my century."

---

Acknowledging Dova'ch's goals, they got to work in salvaging the Qugh-class battlecruiser I.K.S. Descent, discovering the Solanae Dyson Sphere, assisting the undead Kobali, and entering the Iconian War.

"Auughh!! This is madness!" exclaimed Lieutenant Blotter, a Klingon and the Chief Engineer of the Descent, over comms during a massive Iconian fight around Earth Spacedock.

The ship shook violently from Iaidon Dreadnought anti-proton attacks, but Dova'ch gripped his chair intently. "Madness is part of the game if you want to sit in that engine room! It's the gateway drug to adaptation!"

After Sela-shenanigans, more time-travel antics, administered by a now reluctant Daniels, a Lukari mish-mash and superabundant Hur'q attacks, the crew found themselves now faced with the return of their House's matriarch, J'Ula. But, this time, they would play it cool.

"No, no. I assure you, we have not met before at all," Dova'ch lied to his cousin whilst in the guise of over-grown Klingon hair.

The purple matriarch squinted, nearly confused, from the viewscreen of her imposing vessel. "It is just that hair that's throwing me off. Klingons with hair? It's preposterous! Anyway, back to our attacking of you, whoever you are. Prepare to die even though later I display characteristics of compassion!"

"Query. Is this not going too far?" countered Enzo, the Chief Science officer and Android as the viewscreen clicked off and the similarly Qugh-class I.K.S. Lukara re-opened fire. "Must we not dishonour our own House by firing upon it?"

Dova'ch waved it off. "Disregard that, Enzo. The rules of time travel beget conventional guidelines per disruption of historical events themselves. Such aberration relates to what I've read as the Edith Keeler Protocol." And then, abashedly, "I discovered it when researching time travel mating practices."

---

After several more missions, Klingon Civil War and the dissolving of the High Council, a copacetic J'Ula finally recognized her impetus, trouble-causing re-balded cousin Dova'ch in the year 2411. Dova'ch was now back to the time he originally left.

"Are you serious?" J'Ula lamented. "You could have changed the outcome of everything to our advantage, but you just sat back and accepted absurdity like a crew of Kuvah'magh-worshippers. Also, you lied to me!"

Dova'ch nodded. "We have mastered every mission and acquired our Faction-specific space item set through perpetual grinding and Reputation mark investments. Everything that we are is bigger than any one House."

"By the overly-referenced non-clone of Kahless!" exclaimed Antika from her workstation. "Our battle records have maxed out our database capacities? We have killed millions and millions of people through ship-to-ship combat over these past two years!"

The Captain clutched his fists in triumph. "Victory is life! Literally. Oh, that's a phrase I learned from one of the guys we fought. The Romulans, I think."

"What is this obsession, Dova'ch?" J'Ula squinted. "You know all those missions were free-to-play, right? That it's an older gaming-engine, if you will, of life?"

Dova'ch swiped a random can of gagh onto the floor in passion. "These missions are more than mere bug-induced technicalities built upon patch after patch after enormous patch! They carry nostalgia of what this universe has been with the added bonus of starship builds and cameo appearances."

"The Captain is right," Antika added, stepping forward. "This is a galaxy of fan-service and actual attention to lore. Sure, it has its money-grubbing R&D packs, and to a lesser extent, controversial lawsuit-prone lockboxes, but it's no lens flaring brain-dead romp of canon-breaking counterfeit mythology. That's for sure."

The Captain turned to her. "That was incredibly abstract and nonsensical from any in-universe point-of-view."

"So was that! This is preposterous, Dova'ch!" J'Ula erupted. "You will cease these activities before you've salamandered yourselves into swampy oblivion! The Klingon version of The Farm is Rura Penthe, you know. Mo'Kai out!"

Blotter tapped his console, noticing something. "Oh, would you look at that. We still have reverse-time-mycelial network goo from the Kaleidoscope in the crevices of our hull from two years ago."

"So, we're still on mushrooms? That explains a lot," Dova'ch realized. "What say you, crew? Another time-jump-replay of the latest mission or TFO for the current Event Campaign rewards??"

The Bridge team cheered in approval. "Let's grind away the Event Buyout!" declared Enzo as he energized the mycelial goo to send them reeling through time, overhead a defeated Daniels in his chamber, until the Qugh-class ship spun-appeared over Mars in the year 2385.

Below, everyone could see an evacuation of civilians and workers during the massive Synth attack.

"Seems we've over-shot," observed Antika. "The Federation commander is requesting assistance before the operational areas shrink to explodey proportions."

Captain Dova'ch took a seat. "I could have sworn Burgess had a simulation exactly like this. All the same, we are now more than equipped to work our way back to 2411. And this time, we will dump the excess hair from our cargo hold into the Hobus supernova. Begin the frenzie!"

hawku001x

Season #25 | Shadow's Advance: Alt Something or Other
The Opposite of That

The Crossfield-class U.S.S. Theodosia sat out in empty space, lollygagging and trotting about with no apparent to-do or variable what-nots. Captain Zack, a human male and Starfleet officer from the 22nd century, now jumped-forward into the 25th century, sat on the giant Bridge in a veritable unease and no-comfort.

"Sir, that is the exact same ultra-wide, arm-nubbed chair you had in what we're now calling the Discovery-era, only it's in the here and the now," pointed the tall Doctor Nakita, a Kelpien female and new friend to the Captain.

Zack shifted again. "I know, but it's just so weird. First, being called to defend Starbase 1 in the year 2256 from J'Ula and her mycelial tampering, and then that same tampering sending a bunch of unlucky troopsters barreling top-side into the future."

"What about the whole Undine-y-Klingon War, Romulan Mystery, Cardassian Struggle, Borg Advance, Spockified New Romulus, Spherical Solanae Dyson Orb, Delta Rising is the Best, Sela-Pulted Iconian War, Yesterday's War, Future Proof, Lukari New Frontier, Gamma Quadrant Hur'q Bug Hunt, J'Ula's Mo'Crazy and Rousing Year of Klingon we had to endure after that?" Mason, a part-human and part-cyborg asked from Tactical.

The Captain waved it off. "No, that was fine. Just a hop, skip and a jump of some very long two years. But at least now, in the year 2411, we can just keep it cool."

"Hold on. Are you keeping things below room temperature?" came the sudden on-screen hail from Admiral Janeway. "You know I introduced strict regulations against that word since Ahni Jetal."

Zack tilted, confused. "You also encouraged everyone to get lost in the Delta Quadrant for seven years, for experience?"

"Completely rational that I expect everyone to engage in similarly amazing, law-breaking off-the-charts space-sploits as I have, Captain," she held up a halting palm. "Anyway, I'm calling because there is yet another Mirror Universe threat in the distant Ilea system and I hear you were given an experimental Spore drive after you arrived in the 25th century."

The man nodded. "The Engineers were laughing at us as they were installing it. I'm not sure why no one takes that allergy hub seriously, since it seems to be working just fine?"

"It's a preposterous concept that leans more fantasy than science," Janeway corroborated. "We're erasing any form of its success from the Starfleet databases after every use. But, even so, your unique drive-quirk affords exclusive travel opportunities Voyager would have easily disenchanted for continuity's sakes. What I'm saying is, I want you to spore-hop yourselves to the Ilea system and stop that Mirror ship from doing unapproved Mirror things.

Zack furrowed his brow in acknowledgement. "Very well. We must protect the Prime Universe at all costs, because I am so confused about the Constitution-class design right now. It's advanced-looking before Kirk? Anyway."

---

Later, the Theodosia spun-dropped out of the mycelial network and back into normal space in the Ilea system, where they found the Mirror Pathfinder-class I.S.S. Ragnarok feeding a pulsating energy surge into a quantum fissure.

Zack stood up and hailed. "Terran vessel, such an act will destabilize that fissure and cause untold copies of your ship to appear until a craggy Borg-infested universe version of yourself shouts at you in over-bearded-glee."

"Not to fret," replied the Mirror Captain Oroku Seifer from his Terran Bridge where he stood with his busy-crew. "I actually did one of these last week. You see, if I initiate my warp field and centralize myself, I'll get quantum copies of me only and not my ship and/or crew."

The Discovery-era Captain double-taked in unequivocal response. "But that goes against the Duplication Prime Directive?"

"Oh, like anyone's keeping track of those! When we arrived into what you so egotistically dubbed the Prime Universe, we started doing missions, but we weren't getting proper recognition," Seifer began. "Metaphorically, we weren't a legit playable Mirror Universe character. As thus, I endeavored to acquisition more of my kind. But since you really can't trust anyone from that reflectivision, I ended up getting another, quantum Mirror Universe version of myself: The Inquisitor."

Zack quadruple-taked. "What are you talking about? There can only be one Mirror Universe. Besides, I, myself, am from another type of place, another era, but I would never try to pull more of my kind from my time into this century, effectively multiplying the annoyance of assimilating to constant Red Alerts and daily grinds for, what, Marks and rewards??"

"Don't forget the R&D packs," Seifer finger-gunned before getting to work at a console. "But, seriously, there can be. In fact, that first copy of me betrayed my confidence and ran off back to the Terran Empire and that Mirror Janeway, to do side-missions and talkings with a weird military-voice. So, now, I'm electing to the numbers game even more and am poised to pull a whole herd of Mirror me's out of quantum-air. Point being, at least one of them will have to join me and prove there is some use to all our Mirror hullaballoo."

The Captain shook his head. "Nein! If any of that is true, it's because you made it so by your meddling with the multiverse."

"A contradiction I'm willing to expedite if it facilitates validity," he declared while initiating the warp field. "And don't worry about the thing where Worf's duplicates phased through him. I upped the transparency levels this time around."

Suddenly another Mirror Oroku Seifer to appeared on the Bridge of his Mirror Ragnarok. "Hey. Did you know the Klingon-Cardassian Alliance has and doesn't have cloaking devices? There was a whole kidnapping-Zek plot for no reason!"

"That's an odd thing to open with and divulge all at once but, it's more likely that tech was limited to certain factions," Seifer blinked.

Another duplicate suddenly appeared, similarly diverting attention. "Greetings! So wild the Prime Universe Constitution-class Defiant suddenly had joints added to its pylons in a schematic 100 years later. Right?"

"It's a plausible upgrade after a reasonable period of time," Seifer squinted, sufficiently diverted.

Suddenly, duplicate Mirror Seifer's began appearing onto the Bridge of the Theodosia. Mason pointed. "Uhhh, the contradictioning seems to be spreading, sir."

"Well now! Did you know our eyes are sensitive to bright lights and lens flares preventing any of our kind from travelling to any sort of Kelvin-timeline?" the new Seifer said while shielding his vision.

Zack recoiled at his presence. "That is the dumbest thing I have ever heard— and the eye thing too! Mirror Jennifer Sisko had no problems with that?"

"No, no, noooo," belted the original Mirror Seifer as he worked his ship's controls in the midst of more Seifers appearing. "I can't turn off the warp field without invoking the uncertainty principle."

Zack pinched his nose. "You mean that irritating reset button? I'm going to assume this is a result of your over-Sefer-ing and not poor planning. Don't you see? The risks of continuity discrepancies far outweigh the worth of having more Mirror Universe."

"I refuse to believe there are limits we shouldn't be crossing," the original Mirror Seifer repudiated. "Our way of life is excessive murder-double crosses, mandatory goatees and badly executed bisexual representation!"

The Captain sighed. "Look. I get it. You did this because you don't trust the present state of things. Everything here is so much more low res. Especially the Andorians. But it's where we exist. It's the new now and if that means a spore drive or a mirr-xistence, then we must do so unapologetically."

"Nein! It’s this far and much, much further," Seifer contradicted. He pointed, contentiously. "Don’t you dare use that spore drive to plaster the quantum fissure with all kinds of mycelial goo."

Lieutenant Staggard, the Science officer and human, clutched his hand into a fist. "That’s exactly the thing we were going to do. Like an interspatial messy mortar, it would seal the surface-level space-time crack with an added two-year contractor's warranty. Additional fees may apply."

"Make it so!" Zack initiated. "Did you like that phrasing? I just invented it from my point of view."

The Theodosia then trekked over the fissure and spun-hopped itself from that spot to another, nearby. The Mirror Ragnarok's beam and warp field dissipated and no more new Seifers appeared. A blob of sticky mycelial mucilage appeared in space, holding the fissure together.

"Dammit, Captain," the original Mirror Seifer gritted. "A man isn’t a man unless he’s replicating his sickly virtues all around him. I’m taking all your surplus Seifers as part of mission cleanup procedures and, as a gesture of forcing said ideals elsewhere, you are to keep one."

Zack looked at the Seifer next to him. "Wait. Is this one of those things I have to accept by way of situational diffusion?"

"Yes, that's right," the original Mirror Seifer corroborated as he checked the transport statuses showing all the rest of them had now beamed over from the Theodosia. "As for me, I plan to digress these Seifers to waste transfer barges and dilithium mining colonies, a-la the EMH Mark I's and their eternally deadpan medium-tones until I can properly mirror myself." He turned to one of his duplicates. "Whatever you don't do, don't ask your duplicate operator to run program 47-Beta, Quantums Be Free."

One of the many, many duplicate Seifers popped their head out of a nearby Jeffery's tube hatch. "Did you know the Mirror and Prime Universes will one day distance from each other and cause untold madness in crossed-over people?"

"Ugh! I can't dispose of you soon enough!"

With that, Zack watched as the I.S.S. Ragnarok rotated in space and jumped to warp.

"I suppose the lesson here is that too much of anything too much is too much," the Captain concluded. "What say we go ride giant tardigrades into adventure upon the great mycelial wilderness? I'm feeling science-fantasy all of a sudden. Black alert!"

The crew perked excitedly and the Theodosia spun-hopped itself out of the space-time continuum.