Author's notes: This was written in November 2017 as part of the Star Trek Online forums Unofficial Literary Challenge #41. This introduces another one of my Captains. The Orions are playable in the KDF on STO. The Warp-10 salamanders were last seen in LC 67. My bickering Klingon group comes from my original Phoenix-X series.
Unofficial Literary Challenge #41: Prompt #1: You beam aboard Deep Space 9 for some much needed shore leave and find the Department of Temporal Investigations waiting for you. You're under arrest... for something you haven't done yet! You are to be temporally reintegrated with your future self, and then made to stand trial for your future crimes. What is your reaction to the situation at hand? What crime(s) did you commit, and why? How do you react to your future self's deeds?
Unofficial Literary Challenge #41
"Tempus Fugit"
The Ty'Gokor-class I.K.S. Valentine dropped out of warp and approached Deep Space 9. Captain Elektra, an Orion, sat back, slouched on her command chair eyeing the view on the main screen.
"What a spectacular design of slave-constructed space architecture," deadpanned the Orion female, quite bored. "I'd take a holo-image, but those devices are so large and clunky that I very well can never use them."
Kortos, an elderly Klingon, turned from his Science station. "It's odd how dated technology sometimes looks. Ever see those Starfleet tricorders from the 23rd century? You need a bookshelf just to store them."
"Starfleet is one large petaQ-pie!" announced Targon, another elderly Klingon, from Tactical.
Amos, yet a third elderly Klingon, turned from Operations. "Exactly. It almost sickens me that us old Klingons all served on exchange aboard a Starfleet vessel once before; nothing but weird, reality-bending warp bubbles, space jellies and close-up viewscreen communiqués with Ferengis."
"At least they regularly turn rocks into replicators," interjected Bena, another Orion female, from the Helm station. "All we can do is grow hair on our heads and throw metal blood wine cups at each other."
Elektra got up to prepare for boarding. "Didn't Klingons once go bald? Now, a bald man; that would certainly lift my spirits," she smirked to herself.
"What'd I miss?" said the fourth elderly Klingon and Chief engineer, Grath, as he entered the Bridge whilst trying to remove several tangled brushes out of his hair. "I should not have killed our Bolian barber. I see that now."
---
Later, Elektra slung her way into the Operations section of Deep Space 9, with Doctor Kronk, an Orion male, in tow. There, he placed a medium-sized container holding a Salamander-type alien life form from the Delta Quadrant.
"Our haul, Ambassador S'taass," announced Elektra. "A Warp-10 descendant of Kathryn Janeway and Tom Paris who was plotting to over-throw the Empire through some kind of reverse-evolution tactic."
Kronk nodded. "They appear to have some power beyond the laws of nature." He then looked at the Gorn Ambassador. "By the way, weren't you just on Qo'noS? And I could have sworn I saw you on the Jenolan Dyson Sphere?"
"I get arounddddd for the benefit of your crew and your crew alone," reassured the taller alien. "Which isss not unlike your Captainnn. You sssee, Klingon Temporal Intelligenssse iss here to reintegrate you with your future sssself."
Two Klingons approached and nodded to them. "I am Temporal Investigator, Agent Dolkor."
"And I am Agent Lofsky," said the female one. "We're here because an elusive future alternate-you has committed a time travel crime and now must be reintegrated with this-timeline-you so the resulting merged-yous can stand trial. Side effects may include double-head."
Elektra furrowed her brow. "My, my. A duplicate-me? How irresistible. Unfortunately, as she already exists, I posit that both of us has a right to life, separately."
"You think you can dictate the rules of time travel paradoxes! We reintegrate people on a daily basis," claimed Dolkor.
Lofsky crossed her arms. "Besides, if we allowed all time travel duplicates to maintain their existence, the galaxy would have literally double the population," she ruffled. "And don't bring up the disappearing thing. That only happens in alternate multiverses."
"So, you're saying temporal shenanigans is so common, that you're basically committing a form of murder upon the duodecillions upon duodecillions of people for your own unchecked sense of morality?" Elektra asked.
Dolkor huffed. "Hey, Janeway got to end Tuvix! We want a piece of that action. As for you: You were caught sleeping with an Iconian who, immediately after, launched an attack on Qo'noS."
"I knew it!" blustered Doctor Kronk. "Your lust-filled, sleep-with-every-alien ways are nothing but trouble! Just because Kirk did it, doesn't mean everyone has to."
Elektra rolled her eyes. "He just laid the groundwork— or, spacework, that is— for like-minded people to adopt a command interface with the smorgasbord of attractive people that is this galaxy. Such activities are my inalienable rights, as is my rights to remain alive as I am now." She tapped her wrist communicator. "And, I knew you were coming, since her elusive time-travel incursion was, in fact, to inform me of you herself."
"What is the meaning of all this!?" came the sudden flash of a Klingon, Corvok, bald, from the 29th century Temporal Integrity Commission. "Your jobs as present-day-Investigators is not to enforce integrations, but to report what we and your superiors future-past-present-ask of you. This is why Starfleet is always better than us, in any time period!"
Elektra looked him over and smiled. "Well, aren't you enticing. They finally outlawed hair on men in the future, have they?"
"There was an uproar of hair-fueled civil war in the 27th century. The 'skins' eventually won and banished the 'hairs' to Rura Penthe. We look upon those times with great pride as our ancestors from the 23rd century were not as successful," Corvok explained before taking the two Agents and transporting the three of them away.
Kronk turned to his Captain. "But why would the Integrity Commission integrate some people, like Seven of Nine, and not others, like you?"
"Oh, I'll be checking up on his 'integrity' very soon," Elektra smirked. "After I called on Corvok, he separately promised to meet me later as long as I was to never engage with the Iconians again."
The Doctor nodded. "So, instead of ceasing your methods cold targ-turkey, you just learned to redirect them. Brilliant strategy, Captain, in any time."
"Why'd you go there? That's such a faulty time-travelly one-liner. Also, I'll choose how I live, and not some time bureau without a clue." She paused. "Ah well; at least we captured this one abomination."
They looked to the container, which was now empty due to escape. "Orion-bollocks," cursed the Doctor. "Back to the Delta Quadrant?"
"Fine, but I want you to be our Spore drive this time; and think happy, reverse-death thoughts. I'd like to end up close that seductive Kobali homeworld,” she suggested with a grin before the two of them left for the ship.
Author's notes: This was written in December 2017 as part of the Star Trek Online forums Unofficial Literary Challenge #42 and focuses on my Orion KDF Captain, Elektra, last seen in ULC 41. Menchez was last seen in FC 2-3 where he was blackmailed into cooperating with the Children of Kahn. "The Kramp'Ihri" was a new recurring open mission in STO's yearly Winter Wonderland event, focusing on a creature combining the old European Krampus folklore and the Fek'Ihri of Klingon legend. Direct dialogue is taken from the STO mission. The last time we were in a Winter Wonderland was ULC 18 and, before that, LC 69. The devastation on Raatooras involving Sigon, Deloss and Kronen was in ULC 38.
Unofficial Literary Challenge #42: Prompt #1: The ancient tradition of Terran Winter Celebrations is such a festive and playful time less the demonic interference of Earth's own mythological Krampus fused with the demons of the Klingon Empire. Your Captain, participating in Q's Winter Wonderland, is suddenly pitted against the fearsome Kramp'Ihri, a gruesome mashup responsible for kidnapping Gingerbread folks. How does your Captain fare against the massive Gift Stealer, its switch and its loyal minions?
Unofficial Literary Challenge #42
"Face the Kramp'Ihri"
Captain Elektra of the Ty'Gokor-class I.K.S. Valentine stood before the Kramp'lhri Watcher, in disbelief, upon the Ice Gazebo in Q's Winter Wonderland.
"So, you're a hideous fangirl of some kind?" the Orion and Klingon Defense Force officer questioned.
The skantily clad Fek'lhri with sharp teeth continued. "No one but me understands how tenacious the Kramp'lhri is! Challenge the Kramp'lhri with honor, creature!"
"Oh my. You've got spunk, don't you?" Elektra said, impressed. "I was like you once: devoted, faithful. It's not all its cracked up to be."
From behind her, the voice of Menchez, a Klingon and Commanding officer, broke through the reverie. "You were more than that, Captain. I posit that you had more backbone and destiny than an army of Nausicaans. Not to mention, once said-battalion was actually defeated by you."
"Weren't you and your ship last seen being hijacked by Augments?" Elektra replied, turning to face him whilst changing the subject. "You were said to be heard screaming in consternation?"
Menchez refuted. "That was from an Epohh bite! But, yeah, my enemy one-upped me by threatening to not-kill my crew and I in a heat of dishonor. Sufficed to say, we're still hijacked. Though, our captors and I did find a Q-Junior copy under a sewer pipe on Kentar. Turns out that guy is everywhere."
"Well, positioning and self-establishing is how I won all my fights," elaborated Elektra. "Not that I've had much to fight for since the Iconian War. Seems like that thing ended faster than it started without any sense that it was happening in the first place."
Suddenly, the bellowing voice of an extra-dimensional entity rang through the Wonderland. "Kramp'lhri has returned! Today is a good day to cry! Hahaha!"
"He has been spotted heading towards the racetracks! Glorious!" exclaimed the Watcher. "I'll wager you can't save any of the gingerbread folk he has taken. Still, it might be fun to watch you try."
Elektra smiled to her before being transported away. "A woman after my own heart."
---
Confronted by the chaotic violence of the giant Kramp'lhri, Elektra joined several others in firing their winter weapons. The result was a shower of coal flanked by switch attacks.
"Naughty, naughty, naughty!" declared the immensely, 6 meter high monstrosity as he deflected snowballs, gummy blasts, and freeze rays from the various participants.
Elektra smirked. "Oh, dear. Aren't you quite the sight to take in? I can see why the Watcher was so enamored with you. Unfortunately, love is blind."
"Yooouuuu have been naughty this year!" the beast announced as Elektra blasted her Unrestricted Aggression gun and fired an entourage of foam dart bursts.
The attack suddenly caused Kramp'lhri to disperse into a cloud of billowing, spinning dust, escaping into the gazebo and rematerializing upon the snow on the other side.
"Ha! My women's scorn knows no bounds," Elektra said, after she and the others caught up to him and reopened fire. "Men like you care not for others, but rather just yourselves! As attractive as that is, I should have expected as much from a newborn Earth myth and Fek'lhri amalgamation."
Menchez pulled up beside her with his gun and blasted a barrage of icicles into the beast. "Actually, according to rumour, this creature was, in fact, the same one that revealed himself unto legend in 16th century Earth's Europe." And then, to explain, "I'm assuming a time travel predestination paradox through a Q visit, as those are the most satisfying."
"This thing was real?? Well, I suppose we're all aliens, so that shouldn't be surprising," Elektra said. "Not that we see ourselves as the aliens. Point is, do you think Kramp'lhri is kind of hot now? I mean, look at him, right?"
Before the Klingon could respond, the build-up of attacks caused Kramp'lhri to lose several large gift boxes, then-splayed all around the attacking group. Just as Elektra attempted to open her own, the giant ran over and plopped his gift-stealing basket over her head.
"Naughty, naughty!"
Elektra struggled to get it off, realizing now that her presumptuous lowered-defenses allowed yet another man to win her over. "Kramp'lhri, forget the Watcher! Run away with me! I've been a baaaadd girl!"
"Captain," Menchez said in shock. "Perhaps I was right about your backbone, which clearly can support not only your stance but this year's Breen ship in any gravity environment." He watched as Elektra cut through the basket with her oversized Black Nanopulse Mek'leth.
She then threw it into the unrelenting mammoth. It burst into spinning dust once more, releasing the gingerbread folk whilst he disappeared back into his pocket universe. "Nooooo! Not yet! There are still naughty children!"
"What the Gre'thor? Why is that mek'leth so large? I just wanted to appeal to him, not send him away??" denounced Elektra.
Next, the Watcher's voice rang through. "The magnificent Kramp'lhri may be gone for now, but he will return! Wondering how well everyone did? Behold!"
"What?" Elektra said, confused and looking around as there was a long, drawn-out silence. "Anyhow, I suppose I forgot how fun an allegiance could be. I'll forego my previous naiveté." She turned to see Menchez putting his weapon away.
The elderly man nodded. "Qapla'! Nice work, Captain. You truly have the heart of a Klingon warrior; unlike the others in our fleet. I may be forsaken, but that has not prevented me from learning about the insolent dishonour that has occurred most recently upon a planet known as Raatooras."
"I have not forgotten about our fleet, Captain," Elektra said.
Menchez clenched his fist. "Those incompetent petaQ allowed that planet's population to perish in utter failure! Since I'm out of commission, I want you to put an end to Captains Sigon, Deloss and Kronen. That is an order."
"Seems somewhat extreme, but Klingons did go bald once," she said, recalling. "As you command, considering what has happened here today. Or is it still night? The sky has mysteriously stayed the same for days now."
The two looked up and around, curiously. Echoes of Q-Junior's diabolical laughter suddenly rang through the Wonderland. "Hahahaha!"
Author's notes: This was written in February 2018 as part of the Star Trek Online forums Unofficial Literary Challenge #43. Captain Reynolds was last seen on the Risa Resort RP, engaging in promiscuity while her fleetmates raced powerboards. In STO, both the Fek'Ihri and Gre'thor were brought back for gameplay.
Unofficial Literary Challenge #43: Some cultures bond over shared interests like entertainment or technology. Others join forces to help one another through difficult trials. But the most common bonding, if not the most dangerous, is the bonding over a common enemy. From the Cardassian-Dominion alliance against the Federation to the infamous Voyager-Borg pairing against the Undine, history has shown that even the bitterest of enemies can sometimes unite for a greater cause. Write a log about an alliance your captain has made once to ensure their survival. Perhaps you've sought assistance from the Hirogen with a promise of a grand hunt across time with the Devidians. Maybe you've convinced the Kazon to help you fight against a revitalized Dominion sect. But remember, these alliances will not truly forge a lifelong friendship. There may be a moment in these alliances where even your captain must keep a phaser or disruptor pointed firmly to their left. How far can you trust your enemy?
Captain Elektra of the Ty'Gokor-class I.K.S. Valentine stood before the Kramp'lhri Watcher, in disbelief, upon the Ice Gazebo in Q's Winter Wonderland.
"So, you're a hideous fangirl of some kind?" the Orion and Klingon Defense Force officer questioned.
The skantily clad Fek'lhri with sharp teeth continued. "No one but me understands how tenacious the Kramp'lhri is! Challenge the Kramp'lhri with honor, creature!"
"Oh my. You've got spunk, don't you?" Elektra said, impressed. "I was like you once: devoted, faithful. It's not all its cracked up to be."
From behind her, the voice of Menchez, a Klingon and Commanding officer, broke through the reverie. "You were more than that, Captain. I posit that you had more backbone and destiny than an army of Nausicaans. Not to mention, once said-battalion was actually defeated by you."
"Weren't you and your ship last seen being hijacked by Augments?" Elektra replied, turning to face him whilst changing the subject. "You were said to be heard screaming in consternation?"
Menchez refuted. "That was from an Epohh bite! But, yeah, my enemy one-upped me by threatening to not-kill my crew and I in a heat of dishonor. Sufficed to say, we're still hijacked. Though, our captors and I did find a Q-Junior copy under a sewer pipe on Kentar. Turns out that guy is everywhere."
"Well, positioning and self-establishing is how I won all my fights," elaborated Elektra. "Not that I've had much to fight for since the Iconian War. Seems like that thing ended faster than it started without any sense that it was happening in the first place."
Suddenly, the bellowing voice of an extra-dimensional entity rang through the Wonderland. "Kramp'lhri has returned! Today is a good day to cry! Hahaha!"
"He has been spotted heading towards the racetracks! Glorious!" exclaimed the Watcher. "I'll wager you can't save any of the gingerbread folk he has taken. Still, it might be fun to watch you try."
Elektra smiled to her before being transported away. "A woman after my own heart."
---
Confronted by the chaotic violence of the giant Kramp'lhri, Elektra joined several others in firing their winter weapons. The result was a shower of coal flanked by switch attacks.
"Naughty, naughty, naughty!" declared the immensely, 6 meter high monstrosity as he deflected snowballs, gummy blasts, and freeze rays from the various participants.
Elektra smirked. "Oh, dear. Aren't you quite the sight to take in? I can see why the Watcher was so enamored with you. Unfortunately, love is blind."
"Yooouuuu have been naughty this year!" the beast announced as Elektra blasted her Unrestricted Aggression gun and fired an entourage of foam dart bursts.
The attack suddenly caused Kramp'lhri to disperse into a cloud of billowing, spinning dust, escaping into the gazebo and rematerializing upon the snow on the other side.
"Ha! My women's scorn knows no bounds," Elektra said, after she and the others caught up to him and reopened fire. "Men like you care not for others, but rather just yourselves! As attractive as that is, I should have expected as much from a newborn Earth myth and Fek'lhri amalgamation."
Menchez pulled up beside her with his gun and blasted a barrage of icicles into the beast. "Actually, according to rumour, this creature was, in fact, the same one that revealed himself unto legend in 16th century Earth's Europe." And then, to explain, "I'm assuming a time travel predestination paradox through a Q visit, as those are the most satisfying."
"This thing was real?? Well, I suppose we're all aliens, so that shouldn't be surprising," Elektra said. "Not that we see ourselves as the aliens. Point is, do you think Kramp'lhri is kind of hot now? I mean, look at him, right?"
Before the Klingon could respond, the build-up of attacks caused Kramp'lhri to lose several large gift boxes, then-splayed all around the attacking group. Just as Elektra attempted to open her own, the giant ran over and plopped his gift-stealing basket over her head.
"Naughty, naughty!"
Elektra struggled to get it off, realizing now that her presumptuous lowered-defenses allowed yet another man to win her over. "Kramp'lhri, forget the Watcher! Run away with me! I've been a baaaadd girl!"
"Captain," Menchez said in shock. "Perhaps I was right about your backbone, which clearly can support not only your stance but this year's Breen ship in any gravity environment." He watched as Elektra cut through the basket with her oversized Black Nanopulse Mek'leth.
She then threw it into the unrelenting mammoth. It burst into spinning dust once more, releasing the gingerbread folk whilst he disappeared back into his pocket universe. "Nooooo! Not yet! There are still naughty children!"
"What the Gre'thor? Why is that mek'leth so large? I just wanted to appeal to him, not send him away??" denounced Elektra.
Next, the Watcher's voice rang through. "The magnificent Kramp'lhri may be gone for now, but he will return! Wondering how well everyone did? Behold!"
"What?" Elektra said, confused and looking around as there was a long, drawn-out silence. "Anyhow, I suppose I forgot how fun an allegiance could be. I'll forego my previous naiveté." She turned to see Menchez putting his weapon away.
The elderly man nodded. "Qapla'! Nice work, Captain. You truly have the heart of a Klingon warrior; unlike the others in our fleet. I may be forsaken, but that has not prevented me from learning about the insolent dishonour that has occurred most recently upon a planet known as Raatooras."
"I have not forgotten about our fleet, Captain," Elektra said.
Menchez clenched his fist. "Those incompetent petaQ allowed that planet's population to perish in utter failure! Since I'm out of commission, I want you to put an end to Captains Sigon, Deloss and Kronen. That is an order."
"Seems somewhat extreme, but Klingons did go bald once," she said, recalling. "As you command, considering what has happened here today. Or is it still night? The sky has mysteriously stayed the same for days now."
The two looked up and around, curiously. Echoes of Q-Junior's diabolical laughter suddenly rang through the Wonderland. "Hahahaha!"
Author's notes: This is a part of my Ragnarok series posted on the Star Trek Online forums, focusing on Captain Seifer and his new ship. The Deferi are a species created by STO. This story carries on from "Neutraility for Beginners", but still takes place chronologically from Oroku Seifer's last appearance which was in ULCA 5: "From Hell's Heart", where he helped save a Kelvin-timeline ship. Written in March 2018.
Anthology of Ragnarok #4
"Finders, Not Keepers"
The Pathfinder-class, with Discovery-class nacelles, U.S.S. Ragnarok trekked altruistically through space. Captain Oroku Seifer entered the Bridge to begin yet another day of saving the universe.
"You know, I think it's about time the universe owed us one," he said, thinking back to his adventures.
Aramaki looked up from his tactical station. "That's quite a Kirk-level claim, sir. You ready to back that up with evidence?"
"Ugh. The obsession people have with truth and verifiable sources is appalling," the Captain deviated. "It's impossible to make arbitrary assertions based in feeding ones ego anymore." He sighed, before looking over to one of the Tomsins. "I retract my earlier statement."
The Operations officer, and Tellarite, suddenly found himself caught off-guard and fearful he made a mistake somewhere. "Huh? Was I supposed to be taking stenography this whole time?"
"Captain! I'm reading a distress signal from Covalesence! It's been coded just for us!" claimed Moggs from his science station.
Seifer smiled, warmly. "Aw, that means they care. Moggs, return message with a digital Thank You Card; one of those animated ones where our heads are placed over a bunch of dancing Orion slave girls."
"Done," the Caitian and science officer replied.
Edwards turned from the helm. "Uhhh. Shouldn't we go help them?"
"Oh, fine. But remember, I was against this," the Captain conceded.
---
Later, the Ragnarok hung in orbit of the Deferi colony world of Covalesence, while Seifer, Moggs and Aramaki beamed down to the subsurface. They joined the leader, Cassen and several of his scientists who were scanning the destroyed underground pyramid.
"Our intensive scans reveal this to be the work of the Breen, as you can see here with the residual polaron energies in the rubble," commented the lead Deferi.
Moggs did some scans of his own and confirmed with a nod. "It is accurate."
"Well, of course it is!" countered Segg, one of the Deferi scientists. "You think we've been neutral in our actions here the whole time??"
The Caitain turned to them. "That reaction in itself lacks neutrality."
"That's besides the point!" Segg retorted before going back to whatever it was he was doing.
Seifer looked to Cassen. "Strange that the Breen would feel the need to destroy all this after they had already taken their scans here. Have you been able to translate the pictographs?"
"Unfortunately, no," replied the alien man. "This form of Ancient Deferi language appears to be assembled in a way that doesn't adhere to our standards of communicative structures. It's like the words and letters were positioned at random for jocularities sakes. But I'm unaware of our peoples having any senses of humor, nor the understanding of what that would entail?"
The Trill man then reacted to Cassen's meaningful and long look. "There's a Data Stand-Up Comedy program that everyone raves about. It's practically why they wanted him to command the Enterprise-F. Alas, Shon usurped him; that greedy blue-face."
"If the Breen came back here to destroy the evidence, then we won't have much time left to track their residual warp trail," Aramaki spelled out.
Seifer nodded. "Agreed. All those in favor of checking out one of those Deferi neutral coffee clubs and then moving into search mode, say Aye?"
"Doubtful that course of action is anything remotely productive right about now," Moggs interjected. "And 'Aye' has become agonizingly cliché."
The Captain sighed. "You guys need to get out more. It's all I'm saying. Wesley saw more social time than either of you."
---
Later, the U.S.S. Ragnarok dropped warp before the Breen Sarr Theln warship Leinstien. The Breen were hailed immediately.
"Enemy vessel, you are in violation of normal-speak," came the hail from Oroku Seifer. "Oh, and the preservation of Deferi ancient sites and such."
"XXrrrzzZZZkkrrrRRRtTTTT!" Marcel replied.
"Exactly! Also, what do you mean, Cassen is a lair? He's the most trust-worthy Deferi I've ever met. Not that I've met many. But you get my point, which I may have self-defeated through deconstruction."
"What do you mean I don't sound convincing and you think I lack self-honesty as a personal trait? That's awfully specific? Also, our space adventures, which are our livelihoods, hinge on mission-givers like him. Never mind. What are you doing here anyway? Plotting things, no doubt," Seifer claimed, with no evidence what-so-ever. "I mean, just look at you, however you are interpreted to be situated."
"GGDDDVVVvvvKTTtttZch!" Marcel explained.
"Fascinating. Well, I can't argue with that. The mating patterns of the Regulus Eel-bird are highly complex. —Very well, crew, let's help them," the Captain said, turning to his Starfleet officers. "Do the things!"
Aramaki looked almost panicked. "But, sir, we don't even know what he said? None of us have our universal translators updated!"
"Still? Oh, fine: They translated the inscriptions from that Ancient Deferi site which describe an ancient planetoid, hidden here by said people. If sayings of words can somehow be translated into truth, then our mission was a lie and these Breen were the good guys all along. —Dominion War excluded, obviously."
---
The two ships veered off and began scanning around the cold, blank, emptiness of space. Soon, a planetoid was discovered, hidden in a mass of anti-particles. Both groups then beamed into a cavern, with the Starfleet Away Team wearing EV-suits.
"Captain, I'm detecting more Ancient Deferi pyramids," Moggs said, as the group suddenly entered into a large cavern where many more of them existed.
Seifer looked at him. "Mr. Moggs, you know I like to be pleasantly surprised using the classically effervescent 'You better come see this' statement."
"Uh, 'you better come see this' statement," said Aramaki before realizing that Seifer was standing right next to him. "What the? How long have you been right here?"
The Captain waved him off. "Forget that. It looks like more Breen, but I don't recognize this group," he said while examining a second plethora of soldiers inside the cavern with them.
"VVVRRRrKKkkkZZ jjjjjvvrrtt!" exclaimed Kovan, the leader of the new Breen group as he approached and stepped on an embossed stone-tile in the ground.
Seifer translated. "Kovan is the leader of a pack of Breen Rebels, who also want what Marcel and the Deferi are looking for."
"GRRggh!" agreed Marcel as he witnessed the effects of the stone-tile prompting several ejecting spears to be shot out at everyone.
Both the Starfleet Away Team and the two Breen groups scrambled around giant rocks for cover. The ejecting spears continued being fired from the cavern's extraneous internal walls. In the distance, under a giant, blank wall, was a switch and carved images of a man holding a spear.
"Must be the mechanism to stop this," Seifer presumed, his back to the rock, alongside Marcel. "Or, a lever to fire even more ammunition at us. I'm sure it could go either way."
Marcel then declared, "VVrrrKGGgghhTTTK nnKTTt!" ordering he and his men to go for it.
"Captain, no!" Seifer countered, all but too late, as everyone watched the Breen men from the second group, run, dodge and leap over incoming spears. One of the Breen were immediately impaled, and then another: Then another, and another, until Marcel himself reached the end.
The Breen Captain was the last to be impaled before he was able to pull the ancient lever. Everyone watched in awe as the eons-old defense system halted while triggering another mechanism in the wall, causing the blank area to rotate around and reveal pictographs on what was its opposite side.
"VVKKRRRDDDxxzzVVrrtttTTT MrrxsssDDDDdd!" said Kovon, reading the inscriptions. "Vrrt."
Seifer translated for his crew. "This was a city lead by the Druids of the Deferi, who were apparently managers of something akin to being called the Deferi Powered-Man. Also, run." He then attempted to process that last part. "Run from what?"
Suddenly, the entire cavern began to shake ever more. Rocks from the ceiling began to fall, threatening everyone, and prompting Kovon to contact his ship and beam he and his group out.
"Well this is an odd turn of events," admitted Aramaki. "This whole thing was about a man?"
The Captain nodded. "Men have been the movers and shakers of the galaxy for eons and eons to come, as well as women. It's about equal actually, if not, more-leaning on the women-side. Besides, Marcel was right about the Deferi, invalidating our very purpose here, and now he's dead, proving the Breen are much cooler than we thought. Pun intended." He then tapped his commbadge. "Seifer to Ragnarok: KKKVVVvvZZZzzrrk! VVrrrrkkk!! BBbvvvrrt!!!?%$^!!"
"Uh, what?" came the reply from Winry over comms.
Seifer snapped. "You were supposed to learn Breen while we were gone! Anyway, get us out of here. No rush, though. Nothing bad ever happens during a hasty beam-out."
At that, the group dematerialized along with several giant rocks as the cave collapsed all around.
"Aw man, I just got Tuvix'd!" Seifer said as he and his team beamed onto the transporter pad of the Ragnarok, finding several rocks fused to all-over-his-body. "Well, I won't do what Janeway did and reverse it. Rock body stays, everybody," he reassured. "Rock body stays."
Author's notes: This was written in April 2018 as part of the Star Trek Online forums Unofficial Literary Challenge #46. This follows up on orders from Menchez to Elektra in ULC 42 for events from ULC 38. Menchez and his crew were previously taken by the Children of Kahn in FC 2-3. Sigon, Deloss and Kronen were last seen unknowingly crossing Elektra in ULC 43. Takarian poetry was last seen in ULC 11, Part 2.
Unofficial Literary Challenge #46: What was supposed to be one of the innumerable small performances (song, poetry, interpretive dance, Italian Opera, Klingon Opera, German Opera, etc.) to stave off the tedium of deep-space duty seems to have spun out of control. It was bad enough when that new rating turned out to have been a star on his/her colony before signing up, making everyone choose a far more difficult performance than normal, but then said rating was called for a special mission/redshirted.
But the show must go on - as part of Starfleet's efforts to show the return to peace (or the KDF showing the 'poet' side of warrior-poet, or the Republic's efforts to continue culturally reengineering Romulan society, etc.) - they've caught the scent and sent a camera crew to record the performance.
Guess who was the understudy? Does it go well? Humorously? Or is better to set the auto-destruct and beat the rush to the escape pods, the humiliation sure to be less than if the tapes get out?
Unofficial Literary Challenge #46
"I'm a Captain, Not an Actor!"
The I.K.S. Valentine sat in orbit of Archanis IV firing extensively modified antiprotons into empty space, puncturing a hole into Gre'thor itself and opening a giant portal. When three trapped Klingon ships emerged, Captains Sigon, Deloss and Kronen beamed back over to their crews.
"Well, it's about time! It feels like those modifications took months," complained the Ferasan, Kronen, from the view screen.
The Orion, Elektra, crossed her arms. "You know it's still the year 2410, and that we have no down time what-so-ever. Not that you have to worry about as much anymore."
"What do you mean by that? You have come off awfully stand-off-ish ever since we rescued you from that Chieftain monster," came the split-screen hail from the Klingon, Captain Sigon. "Almost like you intended to do something or another once things were wrapped up."
Then the Gorn, Deloss, split the screen three ways. "Yeah! Not to mention the fact you 'accidentally' drove a dk'tang through my chest. Good thing there are Gorn hearts all throughout our bodies."
"Oh, fine. But hidden agendas are a norm and not a surprise in this Empire," she scolded. "The only reason I rescued you petaQ from Gre'thor was so that I could send you back there again— only dead!" And then, "It's redundant now. I see that."
Sigon's jaw dropped. "You insolent fake-news slave girl! You have finally shown your inherent, randomized treasonous ways! I guess there are just people out there who exist merely to be the enemies of other people with no other purpose whatsoever."
"It's far from random ever since you murdered Rukkh! I actually liked him! Not to mention the failure you three exhibited by not saving the entire population of Raatooras from Sage-like destruction," countered Elektra.
Kronen turned to his view screen counterpart, Sigon. "You fool! You were supposed to cover that up! Next time, you're not invited to my worship ceremony of me. I was going to have more gagh-based streamers and everything."
"Oh, great, now I'm going to have Klingon dishonor all over me," complained Deloss. "I'm going to be stress-throwing giant rocks for weeks!"
Elektra rolled her eyes. "Give me a break. You only have yourselves to blame for your ongoing incompetence: Deloss let another Moriarty hologram escape back at our home base, and Kronen has a Mirror Universe double that is more annoying than a Talaxian/Human boy wonder combined! The point is, I have orders."
"—Orders to have fun and party down!" came the fourth split screen hail from Captain Menchez himself. "Remember, Sigon? Like how you used to before you prevented me from an honorable death? Right?"
Everyone reacted on utter shock at the old Klingon's sudden appearance from what seemed like out of nowhere.
"Sir, it was last reported your ship, the I.K.S. Kragoth, its crew and yourself were hijacked by Augments and blackmailed into serving them?" Deloss inquired. "Sure, it was in an RP rather than a ULC, but it still holds." And then, "Oh, the former stands for royal pain, and the latter stands for Unrelenting Loyalty Championship— A week-long test we measure ourselves of quite regularly in the Empire."
Menchez laughed. "Oh, you four are hilarious indeed! It's like some writer from Sto-vo-kor came down and wrote your lives so epically," he mused. "Indeed, I have been preoccupied and unable to lead our little fleet, but it has been wonderful on my own! The Augments have varied entertainment tastes, which I now see align to that of our precious empire. You simply must join my presentation of the Song of the Dead: A Heart-Wrenching Tribute to Those Lost, Not in Battle."
The screen then cut out, and the group tracked his extra-long-range transmission to the previously-thought eradicated world of Raatooras.
"What!? Must've been technology the Augments stole. Oh, and by the way, did he seem different to any of you?" asked Sigon, confused and shocked all at once. "I mean, the hair in a bun was certainly my red flag."
Deloss snarled. "He obviously requires back up. There is something more going on here. Isn't that right, Captain Elektra? I'm referring to your 'orders,' by the way, if that subtext was not clear."
"I don't need to be lectured by you three. I was out saving the galaxy when your grandfather was in diapers!" Elektra said.
Kronen tilted his head in confused. "Aren't you the youngest of us all, and Hell-bent on mate seeking? Never mind. Let's just all agree not to have it out with each other yet and, instead of spectating, we go in and eliminate those mutant-men once and for all."
"Agreed. After Menchez is back, we will have it out, and not in that Starfleet-harmless-brawl kind of way; I mean actual killing and death and such," explained Sigon. "I want blood and screams. Work with me, people!"
Everyone just looked at him awkwardly, before jumping to warp and into the mission.
---
Later, the I.K.S. Baetal, Masamune, Dragunov and Valentine dropped out into normal space, joining the Kragoth in orbit of Raatooras. The four Captains beamed down onto a large opera stage, circled by Augment-audience seating.
"Welcome to the celebration for The Children of Khan!" came the announcement from Hokke who stepped onto stage with them. "You four are in for a delight. This world is now claimed ours, and your Fleet Captain, here, has been so kind as to prepare a little something for us."
Sigon pulled out his disruptor. "You can forget the niceties, Augment. We've come to take Menchez back, despite the inhabitants of this world being lost because of us."
"Only by extension, may I add," Deloss said, taking out his weapon. "A Takarian Sage did the actual work. We were just late to stop him. Did anyone even read ULC 38? Oh, universal library chronicle 38."
Menchez then put his hands together, prepared to recite his rhythmic epic:
"As you may know, our sorrows grow;
We share them high, we share them low.
But what say you, is how we deal?
Why, a brand new society: to help us heal!"
Kronen instinctively aimed his own disruptor out at the Augments, while turning to his commanding officer. "Sir, are you... reciting Takarian-like poetry? Delta Quadrant inspired?"
"A world anew, of beings so strong;
Like the Arin'Sen past, they'll come along.
Feasts of no other, with blood-food to suffice;
Don't you think, think it would be so nice?"
Elektra took out her weapon and turned to her three other counterparts. "You fools want to redeem yourselves? Then we must trust Menchez is doing this for a reason and do our job! You know, that thing you were supposed to do last time?"
"But this time he's acting really strange," said Sigon as he saw an Augment come running for him. "And, let's be honest, he ordered Elektra to have us all killed. I say he dies first! As a byproduct of poetry-slamming, not that whole him-regretting-me-saving-his-life-thing that one time."
As the group opened fire on incoming, attacking Augments, Menchez continued his surly expose:
"The Sages, thee, of past and lost;
I call upon you, to judge with cost.
This world was not yours, of that to command;
You do not belong on this surface, not this land."
Suddenly, the entire stadium began to shake, and an Arin'Sen man, already merged with the Great Sage, floated in from the top striking lightning upon the attacking Augments, giving relief to the four fighters.
"This world belongs to no one but the Arin'Sen," he claimed in an echoed, booming voice. "You are not welcome here."
Kronen looked on in shock. "You lair! You said you were leaving to look for more of your kind?? I could've been the god here— in a mortal way. I had this great story written about where I died and came back to life. It's nonsensical, but people fall for it every time."
"Aha! So, we were right. We knew he was here, which was why we tricked Menchez into calling him out," Hokke said, taking out his tricorder. "We plan to offer him real godhood and leadership among the Children of Khan, for access to his unlimited power. It's pretty obvious the Takarians were too dumb to appreciate it. I mean, they ended up worshiping Ferengi."
The Arin'Sen/Sage floated down to them, with Menchez realizing the situation. "Unlimited power? This world was never really cleansed, was it? You hid the Arin'Sen from the Klingon Empire because we continued to ravage them of their food and supplies? I'd say women too, but Klingons have a strict sexual harassment policy that people are constantly shocked to hear that we do."
"So, now you're not rhyming?" Deloss said, looking to Menchez. "And does this mean you were playing the Augments all along? Because that would be delightful."
At that, the entire stadium began to fill with Arin'Sen inhabitants, thought long-dead, glowing with Sage power, as they outnumbered the sparse Augments in the audience. "No! They're alive?? This was to be our planet!" Hokke countered. "We had plans for genetically modified everything! We love GMOs!"
"The Arin'Sen are resilient people to have put up with the Klingon Empire. The Klingons, nor you Augments, are anything like them," the Sage explained as Sigon, Deloss, Kronen and Elektra turned their weapons' aim at him.
Sigon signaled his compatriots to stand down. "Wait! He's right. I was instrumental in the annual conquering of this world. True honour would be us strengthening our conquered worlds, not absorbing their resources until they're dry. Together, we are stronger. Right, Captain Elektra?"
"An interesting perspective, Sigon," the female Orion said as all the Augments were wiped away from the dimensional plane. "Perhaps we divide ourselves when we don't understand the actions of each other."
The Sage's glow began to dim as he approached the group. "So, you are in fact capable of change, are you? If that is so, I will deal with the Children of Khan, if you five will cease the abuse of this culture. No lies this time."
"Lies or not, this planet still belongs to the Klingon Empire," reminded Menchez. "We've been its custodians since the 22nd century, and it will take some convincing with the Council to change our demands."
The Sage looked to him, before slowly disappearing and taking the glow of the local inhabitants with him. "You will do what is right. The Arin'Sen are yours once again to protect. Do not fail them, or I will be back with my siblings."
"Speaking of failure, we must not falter on our promise to each other— lessons of division notwithstanding," Deloss said as he, Kronen, Sigon and Elektra all aimed their disruptors at each other in standard Klingon practice.
Menchez looked on in shock. "Huh? Oh, the murder and death thing. Ordering my fleet to kill each other may have been a result of my compromised circumstances. Not to mention, conflict and dysfunction is inherent in our instincts, so all we're doing at this point is playing into them."
"Well, I don't want to be predictable," Elektra said taking down her weapon and activating her transport. "But I won't forgive what my fleetmates did to my Chieftain slave. I'm taking 3 million energy credits from our shared bank as payment."
When she dematerialized, Deloss reached over to activate his own wrist communicator. "Finally, a non-Klingon method in taking over a world, I, as a Gorn, can embrace. I will prepare a rock throwing Olympic ceremony that will unite us."
"No Sage, huh?" Kronen said as he watched Deloss disappear. "This bodes well for my coming back to life story. How did you do your undead thing, Menchez? The Calibus VII virus? Interesting."
After he was gone, Sigon crossed his arms. "Your poetry was epic and instrumental. Also, it was catchy. We Klingons know this craft all too well, I now realize, and it does not emasculate us at all."
"Uh, no. No it doesn't. Besides, I did it better than the Takarians! Hah! Also, I do not regret that you saved my life that time from the Kazon-Rokka," replied Menchez. "Come. We will work as a proper fleet, finally. A party, perhaps, on our vessels this time to celebrate."
Sigon nodded. "I would like that, Captain. Qapla!" The two clasped each other's wrists in newfound camaraderie and transported up to their respective ships.
Author's notes: This was written in July 2018 as part of the Star Trek Online forums Unofficial Literary Challenge #47.
Unofficial Literary Challenge #47: Prompt #1: You and your crew have been chosen to escort a Dominion diplomatic team through the wormhole and back to Dominion space while bringing your side's own diplomats with you to further negotiations. Write a log entry about your experiences.
The Negh'Tev-class I.K.S. Kragoth moved to be swallowed whole by the Bajoran wormhole at Deep Space 9. Captain Menchez took a seat in his chair on the Bridge as the ship was then surrounded by the glory of the verteron phenomenon.
"So, it's come to this, has it? We've been relegated to the ULC's," the aging Klingon remarked, staring forward at the fantastical vision upon the viewscreen.
RaeLuna, a half-Human, half-green-alien and his first officer, turned from her stance, standing next to him. "Are you speaking of the underwater love cauldron we are to attend in two weeks?"
"Yeah; that. It's irrelevant, anyway. Our mission at this very moment is to escort Dominion diplomats and Klingon diplomats to the Gamma Quadrant."
Vato, a rugged Klingon male and the Security officer, looked up from a rear console. "Captain, why did you wait until now to tell us this? I have had both groups violently locked up in the Brig for trespassing for hours now."
"Oh, when you've been on the job for as long as I have, you find it more fun to reveal details to your crew through passing remarks and detached indifference," chuckled Menchez. "Also, old age memory loss."
Seconds later, Vato released the two groups from the Brig, prompting them both to rush to the Bridge.
"This is unacceptable behaviour, Captain!" argued Dahar Master and diplomat Gaurantan, who was accompanied by two other of his Klingon aides. "I will have your head on a Klingon Gin'tak spear!"
The Vorta, Feylou, and two of his Jem'Hadar soldiers, entered the Bridge from opposite doors. "We, on the other hand, quite appreciate the experience and study of the inner workings of Klingon jailing processes."
"Did you like the Rura Penthe-inspired Chameloid inmate and accompanying cigar?" smirked Ulkegh, a Klingon female and officer. "It's standard for all KDF containment cells now."
Feylou clasped his hands excitedly. "You know we did! Morphable humanoids are an obsession that extends right into what some may deem for us as inappropriate. Oh, and thank you for the misplaced-aggressive Nygean-style prison violence."
"Am I the only one here who is out-raged??" blurted Gaurantan. "This is merely a symptom of a greater problem with you, Menchez: Coming back from being undead, partaking in Winter Wonderlands, nearly-losing your other ship to the Kazon-Rokka, submitting this vessel to the Children of Khan, and singing Takarian poetry on the planet Raatooras? Evidence of foolhardy, fooly cooly foolishness!"
Menchez stood up to confront the honoured Master. "I submit to you that all those activities are necessary in this universe. That, without the willingness to embrace the absurd, grow, and break the monotony, we would have been truly failures for never having been written— I mean, existed— in the first place."
"I must say, Great Master," began Feylou, "Your unwillingness to read— I mean, be open to new experiences is surely a fearful and grim situation all together. That is the basis of all Dominion principles. It's what drives our invasion forces, powers our killing-weapons, and thrusts our pointy-blades into the hearts of our dear friends. We will have to deliberate on whether it is worth continuing talks with you."
The Vorta then turned to his two ketracel white-addicted soldiers.
"Come. Let us return to the holding cells for the ritual fight with a horned alien," ordered Feylou. "I hear the key is to kick him in the knee-genitals."
As the group left through the doors they came, Gaurantan reached out his palm. "Wait; no! We Klingons invade too! It builds our egos and is the foundation of our reward systems!"
"Well, perhaps it should be more perverse," suggested Menchez as the Dominion delegation left. "Like, maybe we could conquer for sport or the bloodlust?" Then, dreamily, he added, "Mmm. I could go for some tasty humanoid blood right now."
As he realized the crew was looking at him strangely, Menchez sat back in his chair.
"Vato, please take the Dahar Master to our best Guest Quarters. You know, the one with all those bed cushions and chandeliers that don't fall even when we're in battle."
Gaurantan took a few steps back. "What? No! I want to go back to the Brig! I want to fight the voles for my blood cakes! I will not be a failure like you!"
"Sorry, Your Grace. But it's extravagance and pampering here on out. Hope you enjoy giant leaf fans and wiggly gagh being fed to you one-by-one," threatened Menchez as the Dahar Master was gracefully and respectfully led out.
The diplomat yelled as the doors were closing him off from the Bridge. "You'll pay for this, Menchez! You'll regret this for however long we Klingons live, which is an undetermined convenience in itself! Wait? Even that's a luxury! No! Noooo!"
Author's notes: This was written in August 2018 as part of the Star Trek Online forums Unofficial Literary Challenge #47.
Unofficial Literary Challenge #47: Prompt #2: With the release of VIL, do a story where you are assisting the Dominion in a mission, or are a member of the Dominion. Doesn't have to be a Jem'Hadar, could be a Vorta POV.
Unofficial Literary Challenge #47
"For the Dominion!"
The Negh'Tev-class I.K.S. Kragoth dropped warp and joined the Dominion vanguard heavy raider Lyngon-5328 at an asteroid belt in the Torad sector of the Gamma Quadrant.
"It is agreeable to see you, Captain," came the hail from Lyngon-5328 by its Jem'Hadar Honored First, Kurok'Tekan.
Captain Menchez stood from his seat at the Bridge of the Kragoth. "You're thinking of Vulcans! Klingons just start shouting obscenities and falsified claims."
"My apologies, Oh Eternally Angry One," said the Vorta, Feylou, who suddenly walked into frame. "He's new here. Almost like a newborn son to me, considering he still has Dominion birthing chamber goop all over him."
The Kragoth's half-Human half-green-alien first officer, RaeLuna, raised an eyebrow. "Didn't we just deliver you to peace-talks with Klingon diplomats?"
"That was my predecessor, Feylou-6. Your precious Dahar Master Gaurantan broke his neck during a discussion about what snackables to have at the table."
Menchez nodded. "As any Dahar Master in charge of diplomacy would. Also, our gagh addiction is much like your ketrecel white addiction, except we go mad within seconds."
"Klingons and Dominion working together," mused Kurok'Tekan. "Stranger things have never happened, nor will again, nor should have to begin with."
---
Beaming down to a low-gravity cave, Menchez, RaeLuna, and security/operations officer Ulkegh met with Feylou, Kurok'Tekan and Second Wui'Xiau.
"Since it was we who detected the Hur'q here, it us who will lead this mission," declared Menchez.
Kurok'Tekan readied his polaron rifle. "The only reason you were ever allowed in Dominion territory is because your scent repels the Karemma."
"petaQ! How dare you take that tone with me!" countered the Captain. "Then again, we are proud of our odorous effect on an entire species. Their Prime Minister completely lost his lunch last week."
Suddenly, one of the nearby walls opened up, revealing a large group of Hur'q on a level below, celebrating. The Hur'q that opened the wall stopped himself in shock.
"Whoa! Is there a humanoid convention or have the cows gone missing?" the Hur'q quipped. "Seriously, though, my name is Craven."
Kurok'Tekan dropped his aim. "Hold on. You can talk?"
"Oh, please. Talk? Why we're the foremost melodically auditory masters of our generation— meaning, we can siiiinnnnnggg!" And then, after a moment, he added, "But, to clarify, we're a group of Hur'q who circumvented the madness from our dependency on our fungus. Evolution, perhaps? I don't know. I'm just a crystals systems analyst with barely any weekends off. It's crazy at the office some days. My co-worker Jane knows all about it."
Feylou turned to Kurok'Tekan. "Why are you chatting with this Xindi-wannabe? Our mission here is to exterminate him!"
"Yeah, we haven't had contact with the outside galaxy in eons. How are things? Do they still use laser disc?" Craven asked.
Menchez waved those questions away. "Your people have succumbed to the madness previously aforementioned and are running amuck, consuming the cosmos. They specifically attacked my homeworld centuries ago."
"Ha! Oh yeah, that sounds like us," Craven chuckled. "Seriously, though, we do not side with them at all. Our society is one of simple tailors and barbershop quartets— but the bug versions, of course. We refuse to associate with those foam-mouthed vermin."
Kurok'Tekan felt Feylou's eyes burrowing into his face, but diligently ignored it. "Then you will assist the Dominion and the Alliance in opening communications with the enemy."
"Have you lost your mind!?" Feylou snapped at his Jem'Hadar subordinate.
The Hur'q flailed his humanoid arms. "Yeah, we couldn't even if we wanted to. No one remembers the old tongue. There was that one guy, but he was squashed by a giant Spock clone. Came out of nowhere."
"Some progenitor you turned out to be," Feylou continued with Kurok'Tekan before turning to Menchez. "Then you, Klingon, will complete your mission or I will have the entire Dominion fleet descend upon you like a plague of bug-like aliens of some kind."
Menchez quickly and swiftly snapped his neck, allowing the now dead Vorta to fall to the floor. Everyone watched in shock before Wui'Xiau pulled up his weapon at the Captain. Kurok'Tekan just chuckled, prompting his Second to man-down.
"Hahaha! You know they'll just make another one, don't you?" the First reminded Menchez. "Also, they always expect the Klingons to do the head thing. Like, sixty of you have done it since the Dominion War."
The old Captain nodded. "We are compelled to murder Vorta. Perhaps it is their prey-like distinction. By the way, don't ever put us in a room with Kelpian people. We will eat their faces off without even killing them first."
"The Jem'Hadar are not bred to use our mouths to consume, as we only require the White, but we have had Kelpian before and it is absolutely delicious," agreed Kurok'Tekan.
Craven held up his muscular arm. "Hold on. We haven't had official outsiders other than some giant clone and you guys in centuries, but we were able to replace our madness-driving hunger with one thing: a major Kelpian import. Would you care to join us?"
"Would I?? That's probably what I've been smelling since we've come down here!" the old Klingon perked, excitedly.
Kurok'Tekan nodded. "We have drawn blood, so now we will feast."
"Now you're getting us!" Menchez slapped the Jem'Hadar on his back agreeably as the entire group followed Craven into the festivities below. "You know, you Jem'Hadar are alright."
Author's notes: This is the final part of my Ragnarok series, focusing on Captain Seifer and his new ship. The Deferi are a species created by STO. This story carries on from "Finders, Not Keepers" where Seifer became transporter-fused with a bunch of rocks. Written in December 2018.
Anthology of Ragnarok #5
"The Deferi Powered-Man"
The Pathfinder-class, with Discovery-class nacelles, U.S.S. Ragnarok drifted aimlessly in space, rotating endlessly for what seemed like all foreseeable time.
Captain Seifer, laced with fused rocks throughout his body, entered the Messhall and approached the replicator.
"One redbat stew, please," he requested before the bowl materialized and he took it to a table. His left hand was just a rock, causing him to accidentally smash the bowl when reaching for the spoon. "Ah, it's just as well. I heard this stuff was cancerous to non-Andorians."
Aramaki, Winry, and Moggs walked over and sat with the Captain. "Sir, some of the crew and I are worried about you," Aramaki said. "You refuse to reverse a transporter accident, you left the lights on in the Cargo Bay, and our entire payload of replicated chocolate has been depleted."
"What do I eat!? WHAT DO I EAT!??" screamed the Betazoid officer Cetra as she ran by.
Seifer looked impressed. "I'm glad when examples present themselves immediately following the set-up."
"On the other hand, we've been examining our scans of the Deferi Druid wall depictions," Moggs said, while taking out a PADD with their work. "They're just like two other Deferi planetoids, found in the last three centuries with similar depictions."
Seifer grabbed the PADD with his one good hand and examined the data. "This says these are Deferi breakfast menus. It's a recipe for a grey paste with no flavor whatsoever!"
"They're neutral in their foods. Is that surprising?" Winry asked. "Except the portions in these instructions are massive. More than one army of complacent doltish simpletons could ever eat."
The Captain put the PADD down. "The Deferi Powered-Man. All these ancient colonies, were somehow working together to supplicate this thing. Because they worshiped it?"
"Yep! Yep! Thoughts and prayers and paste! Yep!" came the excitement of Lieutenant Edwards as she sat down with a bowl of her own redbat stew and began sipping it.
Seifer panicked. "Edwards, no!"
"It's okay," interjected Doctor Cetra as she sat down with an open bag of coffee beans. "I regularly modify her DNA with Andorian so she can eat that."
The Captain sighed. "Ever since I messed things up by duplicating all those unnecessary Tomsins, I've been stressing about my missions going bad. Losing Marcel just solidified those fears and keeping my transporter accident was going to be my reminder. But seeing you guys come together now gives me hope." He stood up. "Let's find this thing."
"Hey guys, did we miss an impromptu meeting?" asked one of two Tomsins, approaching the table.
Seifer snapped at them. "Yes you did. You're relieved of duty!"
"Dammit, I told you we should've got our haircuts from that Bolian, second," one of the Tomsins said to the other.
The other felt his copy's head. "He's dead now."
---
Later, the Ragnarok approached a derelict, rogue planet, orbited by the Breen vessel Nokoda and the Deferi ship Sannaska.
"Both vessels are completely empty, sir," reported Aramaki from tactical.
Moggs checked his PADD. "It would seem the Breen and the Deferi came to the same conclusion we did. The locations of each wall inscription were pointing to a world in this vicinity."
"Everything is constantly moving in this galaxy," countered Cetra. "How did you extrapolate celestial history without knowing exact dates?"
The Science officer Moggs just shrugged. "Eh, I just pointed randomly at the map. Starfleet! Am I right?"
No one answered him.
"I'm right."
---
A now whole-Seifer, Aramaki, Moggs and Winry beamed down to a large, underground cavern with enormous sections of lower-level areas: One side filled with Breen soldiers and the other Deferi.
"Here are all the lifeforms we detected," said Aramaki as he scanned with his tricorder. "I just love scanning for lifeforms."
The Captain shook his head in disapproval when Aramaki looked at him for permission to sing. Meanwhile, a Breen away team and a Deferi away team on the same upper level as them, hurried over.
"Hold it right there," said the Deferi leader Cassen as he aimed a phaser at them. "Yes, that's right. We have taken a not-neutral stance, and we are not fainting as one would think."
Winry crossed her arms. "You're using Osmotic eels, aren't you? They cure anything."
"Pretty much all of us are," Cassen replied. "As you can see, we have the situation under control."
But the Breen commander, Kovan, felt otherwise. "SKKZZTTkktt!"
"Well, except for them," the Deferi seceded. "You see, you were supposed to take out the Breen and get them out of the way for us."
Seifer tilted his head. "You lied to us Cassen. You used us!"
"I'm pretty sure I just admitted to that," he said. "That you're here now suggests a meddling of unexpected proportions."
The Captain shrugged. "That's pretty much our unspoken philosophy. As for you, it's apparent now that all you wanted to do is bring back your Deferi Powered-Man. But it didn't work out the way you'd have hoped, did it?"
"Some mechanism in this cave transported all of our crews off our ships and into these chambers after we triggered one of the traps here," Cassen admitted. "A force field of some kind prevents us from freeing them."
Suddenly, the entirety of Seifer's crew were transported into an open lower-area section, much to his surprise. "What!? But we didn't trigger any traps?"
"Oh, that's just going to keep happening with any ship that approaches," the Deferi replied. "There are sections for crews for the whole planet. Who knows why?"
Aramaki turned to him. "What's the point of all this? Why bring back some ancient behemoth?"
"Because I'm tired of being the neutral species with no power what-so-ever. It's opened us up for bullying by the Breen and any species that comes by! Seriously, even the Pakleds. They made us dress them??"
Kovan added, "KKrrTTjjjvvvvVVt!"
"He says he just wants power," Cassen translated. "Man, that's one dimensional. Get with the character development, Kovan."
Seifer walked over to a giant stone circle embedded into the side of the cave, appearing to be ancient with engravings and movable sections. "This is how you get him, isn't it? The Deferi Powered-Man?"
"Precisely. But any wrong move, and we could lose everyone," Cassen said. "Not that I care about what happens to the Breen. Hah! This taking-sides thing is giving me an adrenaline rush!"
The Captain pointed to some engraved pictographs. "According to these depictions, rotating these stone parts a certain way will open the forcefields."
"Sir, are you sure about this?" questioned Moggs. "You could literally lose your whole crew! Or duplicate them. I'm sure either scenario is as plausible."
Seifer shook his head. "No, but I can't let that possibility hold me back anymore. I'll make quadruple Tomsins if it means we progress in some way."
"I recognize these engravings. They're the recipes found on the other worlds," Aramaki said in surprise. "We can align them to match the layouts of the other cave inscriptions."
Nodding, Seifer replied, "Make it so."
As the group of three away teams got to work, rotating the interior circles to line up properly, Seifer, Cassen and Kovan took a step back to get a wider view of their progress.
"This is it! We will finally have some gravitas!" belted Cassen. "This is what I was thinking: The Breen gets him Mondays and Tuesdays, the Federation gets him Wednesdays and Thursdays, and we Deferi get him the rest of the week. What do you think?"
Kovan agreed. "FFVVVKKRRTT!"
"Hold on a second," interrupted Seifer. "Those rectangle engravings we just rotated represent the areas our crews are in. They appear below the main creature figure."
Cassen tugged his elongated alien ear. "Huh. It looks like... it's eating them?"
VVVRRRRTTTT!!! came the loud noise of the cave as the stone circle was complete. The entire area shook while the circle moved to the side to reveal a giant 20-foot creature within. It began to move, restlessly.
"Our crews are its meal!" Cassen realized.
Seifer took out his phaser and aimed it at the giant being. "Those areas are probably where your people put your boring grey paste. Only, the one ingredient it was missing was people."
"Haaa! People are food. I like it," said Aramaki. "Oh, but not right now."
The enormous creature stepped out and prompted the away teams to scatter. "RRRRRAAAAAAOOOORRRRR!!!!" came its piercing scream while it flung its fists into the ground, smashing into the floor.
"Open fire. We have to destroy that living piece of history!" Captain Seifer commanded. "Oh man. The Federation Historical Society is going to kill me."
The Breen complied, but the Deferi held back.
"Don't!" Cassen ordered his people. "We must remain neutral until it is in our power once again. Sure, our crews will die, but they have been trained to have no reactions either way when being eaten."
The Deferi Powered-Man moved to the force fielded sections with the crews inside and began smashing his large fists, draining the power of the fields with each attack.
"I have an idea," Seifer said, snapping his fingers. "Can we replicate an equivalent portion of Ancient Deferi grey paste and beam it down here?"
Moggs began running the calculations on his PADD. "That would require all the Ragnarok's replicators running at once until all decks were flooded with that gobbledy-goop!"
"Did I say 'make it so' yet? I think I did. But it's such a good one. I'll have to write Picard a 'thank you' note, wherever he is, whatever he's doing. They should make a series about that. I'd call it Make it So."
---
Suddenly, aboard the U.S.S. Ragnarok, all the replicators were activated remotely and began spewing out grey food-paste, non-stop. The paste poured out of everyone's quarters and onto the decks.
---
Meanwhile, sections of the grey paste began beaming down into the cavern, catching the Deferi Powered-Man's attention and causing him to stop smashing the forcefields.
"GGGrrggg!!!"
It turned and ran off toward a lower-level section where the paste was filling up from transports, and fell in face-first.
"Oh no," worried Winry as she tapped frantically at her own PADD. "The ship is producing more grey, boring content than we asked it to. One of the algorhythms must be clogged in a redundant unofficial literary code net!"
Seifer turned to her. "Are you making this an analogy thing? What the hell? Don't do that!"
"It's too late," said Aramaki as he pointed to the giant pool of grey paste the large creature was previously revelling in. "The Powered-Man is drowning!"
Cassen stepped forward. "No! My return-to-inaction has wrought terrible consequences!"
"VVVffffKkrrRttkk," agreed Kovan.
Everyone watched as the giant creature choked and died on its own gluttony.
The Breen away team opened fire upon the forcefields covering each of the crews until the energy barriers were depleted. All the Breen then transported back up to their ship to go home.
"I guess the Breen stopped being interested after the opportunity for power was gone," Seifer postulated. "A hard-learned lesson for all of us about motivation."
Cassen looked at him. "What are you talking about? We already could predict their actions! That's how one-dimensional they were!"
"Well, then the Breen lesson is that losing someone like Marcel leads to terrible replacements," concluded the Captain.
The non-neutral Deferi leader grumbled as he walked away to tend to his people. Meanwhile, the now-free crew of the Ragnarok began beaming back to the paste-filled ship to open all the bay doors.
"And what's our lesson, Captain?" Moggs said turning to him.
Seifer thought for a moment. "That death accompanies all things from the ancient past, because that's how we got things done back then."
"Yeah, we're much more civilized now," agreed Winry. "Tea earl grey hot has been the Federation's intergalactic drink for twenty years going."
Aramaki put his PADD away. "And what of the 'mission,' sir?"
"The mission to seek out old life and murder it? Yes, that will continue, especially since I have one of the most effective Bridge crews in the fleet," confirmed Captain Seifer. "You should've saw my last crew. They were obsessed with fizzbin for some reason."
Winry put her hands on her hips. "You mean that group of officers you put in our Brig? They were still on the ship when we filled it with paste."
"Hm. Hopefully they're still alive. Either way, everything else relevant is resolved here. Let's leave and not acknowledge that we'll be establishing a Federation presence in this cavern, because the details after the situation never really matter."
The group nods.
"Seifer to Ragnarok. Let's get out there and seek out old life and old civilizations. Let's boldly go where many ancient peoples have abandoned before."
The comm reply from Cetra rang through the air. "Captain, we're all drowning in grey boring paste up here! Don't come up! Don't!"
"Too late. I activated the transport remotely, thus eliminating someone's job," he countered, tapping his commbadge.
Seconds later, the Away Team beamed up and into a mucky, unresolved situation. The U.S.S. Ragnarok drifted aimlessly in space, rotating endlessly for what would likely be all foreseeable time.
Author's notes: This was written in February 2019 as part of the Star Trek Online forums Unofficial Literary Challenge #49. It uses my Romulan faction character from STO, Tressa, last seen in New Romulus RP, Page 4, warping away in her new ship.
Unofficial Literary Challenge #49: Prompt #1: A strange wormhole has been discovered opening into the Alpha Quadrant. Scans show it is artificial in nature and leads past the Delta Quadrant into the mythical "Epsilon Fringe", a small strip of space between the end of the Delta Quadrant and the vast emptiness of Dark Space. A probe sent into the wormhole reveals that there are M class planets on the other side as well as a few warp capable species. Your faction has ordered you to brave this trek to reach the Epsilon Fringe and make first contact with a species. What kind of species does your Captain meet? Are they friend or foe? Is there a large governing body like Starfleet or the Dominion or is it lawless, with every species for themselves? Write a log detailing this event and the journey itself.
Unofficial Literary Challenge #49
"Welcome to the Epsilon Fringe"
The Ar'Kif-class R.R.W. Tetreya was flung, recklessly out of a wormhole and back into normal space upon the far reaches passed the Delta Quadrant. Commander Tressa got back onto her command chair.
"Status report!" the female Romulan called out.
Centurion Lesket, a Romulan male, tapped frantically at his tactical control panel. "Weapons, shields, life support! They're all good!"
"Well, then why are we freaking out like a bunch of n00bs?" Tressa asked. "Anyway, as you all know, the Republic wants to try out this Federation-exploration trend in hopes of becoming more like a people who don't ignore an impending energy-multiplying supernova."
Chupa, a Bolian and the Chef, stepped off the turbolift, carrying a large bowl of ganglia. "Anyone try the Kelpien yet? It's not that bad, actually."
"Ugh! That's not even a thing they did from our universe," argued Centurion Reivf, a Romulan and a female. "But I'll take ten bowls."
Suddenly, Tressa and her Bridge crew found themselves transported onto the surface of an unknown planet.
---
The group was quickly approached by an enthusiastic, tall Kelpien-like alien.
"Greetings. I am Cuva, and we are the Kolpionn. We have just become aware of space-faring species, so as soon as we detected you, we brought you here to meet you," the alien explained.
Sarmin, the ship's Science officer and a Reman, took out his tricorder and scanned the alien. "You are similar to the Kelpiens! Like some sort of offshoot! Also, the name."
"Our ancient myths describe being planted here via distance-traversing vortices, eons ago," Cuva said. "We enter this country every year to engage in The Great Cannibalism: An event in which our underground society, the Kulpiun, goes mad and we eat them before they kill us."
Tressa shook her head. "That sounds terrible. Not to judge your culture or anything, but you're all doing everything wrong, all the time."
"Oh, pish-posh! You'll simply love it! To become one with our brethren is the only way to really live," he explained reassuringly as the distant echo of madly-driven Kulpiun began running straight for the group.
The crew then watched as Cuva ran off and tackled one of the incoming mad-Kulpiuns, feasting right into the creature before both of them disappeared in a shimmering light.
"Commander, there's a force-field preventing our escape, and no indications of any exits anywhere," Lesket said, scanning.
Chupa widened his eyes as he peeked at Lesket's tricorder. "Is eating one of these Kulpiuns the only way out of here??"
"I mean, surely we could map a way off world, or modify the energy-signature of the shielding, or--" Reivf started before the group was surrounded.
Tressa shook her head. "That's what Starfleet would do. I posit we do things the Romulan way! We follow through with our own new version of First Contact procedures, which is to consume these things, like the Kolpionn do."
"But isn't that messed up, yo?" asked Reivf. "Respectfully, of course."
The Commander shook her head. "The Klingons eat people every day. But they won't tell anyone nor celebrate it. We Romulans are different. Sure, we are prim and proper, and will deny all forms of bodily fluids, but we are also game players."
"You don't have to ask me twice," Chupa said as the group watched him tackle one of the surrounding Kulpiuns and sink his teeth into it. Moments later, Chupa and the creature were transported away.
Lesket tapped his chin in thought. "It's not like it's cannibalism if it's another species, right? Humans eat dolphins all the time, I assume, despite the latter having scientifically proven superior intellect." The Romulan tactical officer then ran right into a Kulpiun and ate his way to transported-freedom.
"My Reman brethren ate each other every day," Sarmin said. "It's how we survived the underground mines and kept our population down. Saturdays was Human-clone night."
Tressa and Reivf watched as Sarmin followed suit, tackled a creature, and disappeared.
"I'm having second thoughts about this," Tressa said. "Am I just making speeches to measure up to the Federation and Klingon Captains?"
Reivf turned to her. "You were trying to set us apart from those buffoons, and I applaud you for that. In fact, others in the Republic will applaud you and build statues in your honor. Statues are our thing. It's a huge thing we Romulans do."
"They won't throw up in their mouths a little bit?" Tressa asked.
The other Romulan nodded. "Oh, no, they definitely will. It's going to be at least a week of mental processing for everyone. Prepare to be shamed relentlessly." And then Reivf ran off and tackled a Kulpiun to the ground.
"Alright, let's do this. I did skip breakfast," Tressa said to herself as the last remaining officer. She was then tackled to the ground by a drooling, madly-insane creature. Taking a deep breath, she bit right into its neck, squirting a good ounce of blood before she and it disappeared.
---
Commander Tressa found herself transported into a fancy ball room overlooking the countryside where hordes of Kulpiun and Kolpionn were recklessly engaged with each other.
"The metaphasic properties of the planets in Epsilon Fringe has given our species morphogenic genes," said Cuva as he handed Tressa a glass of champagne.
Lesket picked off a waiter's palette of ganglia appetizers. "It turns out when they bite into each other, the two species merge, or Tuvix if you will, into one being."
"And now it's become a ritual for them," reaffirmed Chupa who scooped a handful of the rest of the ganglia.
Tressa raised an eyebrow. "So, our DNA is now altered?"
"It will last about two days for you," Cuva said. "Your alien genes will likely dominate and push out the Kulpiun. After expulsion, you can then return your Kulpiun counterpart back to us."
The Commander took a sip of her drink. "I am not looking forward to that. But, I must know, have we now succeeded in First Contact procedures?"
"Would I be inviting you back next month for The Great Love Fest if you hadn't?" Cuva raised a glass and winked.
Tressa nodded in understanding. "Now I know why Starfleet is so messed up: All these strange and horrifying cultures easily dilute one's own grasp of reality. Thank you, Cuva, for making me never want to meet new civilizations again."
"As long as I did some good," he replied. "You know, a lot of people actually call this the Epsilon Cringe," he added as the two tapped champagne glasses.
Author's notes: This was written in July 2019 as part of the Star Trek Online forums Unofficial Literary Challenge #51. This was the last challenge they posted, as the ULC's fizzled out by this point.
Unofficial Literary Challenge #51: Prompt #1: Earlier in your captain's career there was an enemy faction captain who was her nemesis. Now we're all allies, right? But your next mission requires your captain to partner with the former nemesis. What's worse is the nemesis is given overall command of the mission. What prejudices and raw nerves are exposed? Can either captain overcome years of hate or will the mission fail?
Unofficial Literary Challenge #51
"Joint Mission"
The Ar'Kif-class R.R.W. Tetreya tumbled haphazardly through space until rectifying its momentum. Commander Tressa got up from the floor of the Bridge to her chair.
"Why are we always doing that??" the female Romulan called out.
Hachi, a young, male Romulan, tapped a few buttons at his Helm console before turning around to address her. "Sorry, ma'am. I just get so bored of regulation flight patterns. Let's throw in some danger every now and then. That's all I'm saying."
"You did the right thing," Tressa replied. "A lack of inspiration out here could get us all killed."
Suddenly, the viewscreen clicked on. The Klingon Captain, Menchez, appeared. "A lack of anything will bring about the wrath of the Empire."
"AH!! Oh, it's you. How did you even hear what we were saying, much less appear on communications without our consent?" Tressa posited.
Menchez slammed his fist onto his command chair. "A Klingon does not tell his secrets! Especially when he does not know himself!!" After a brief pause, he matured. "Ah, that feels better. Honestly, we Klingons need one irrational outburst per day, or we explode."
"I would enjoy that, you veruul! Oh, how much you are a veruul. You are just so veruul. Ugh!" Tressa spat.
The Klingon raised an eyebrow. "Um, what? Are you on some kind of Romulan version of ketracel white? Anyway, whence once we were enemies, now we must work together to track ancient, time-displaced, bald, cannibal Klingons who have stolen Romulan Republic tech to assist J'Ula of the long lost dead House Mo'Kai."
"Ah, exposition. How unoriginal, but expected of a Jolan-veruul. You know perfectly well that you and I will not get along during this mission."
Menchez shrugged. "Nah, we'll be okay. One outburst a day is all my old Klingon eight-chambered heart can take."
"We will tear each other's throats apart!"
He scratched his head. "You need to relax more. It's a good day to be mellow."
---
Later, the Tetreya and the Negh'Tev-class I.K.S. Kragoth approached a seemingly strange energy-spewing anomaly in space.
"There appears to be a breathable atmosphere within it." Centuron Lesket examined readings at tactical.
Menchez clicked onscreen. "This is the Republic signature the transport ship Elysium detected. It appears to be more intense up close! The same way an object appears bigger when you near it."
"You are becoming senile in your old age, old man. We shall beam aboard and investigate," Tressa ordered.
The other commanding officer blinked. "Surely, a probe, or our respective-25th-century-versions of 'Red Shirts' would suffic--"
"You know our mission-tracking camera-drones won't record them!"
---
Moments later, Captain Menchez, his first officer RaeLuna, Commander Tressa and her first officer, Reivf, rematerialized into the corridors of what appeared to be a Starfleet ship interior.
"We will slaughter the Romulans and feast on their bones," said the half-alien, half-Human woman.
Captain Menchez shot her a look. "You've been studying the bald Klingons too much, RaeLuna. Modern day Klingons only cannibalize on the weekends."
"If you Dentist-Horror-Stories would use your brains for once, you would deduce this was the work of the Tal Shiar, as is all suspicious activity of our kind," Tressa established.
Reivf nodded. "I agree. The Klingons have terrible teeth."
"Okay, now that you have positioned us in a mission-jeopardizing situation, I am compelled to report that your hostility is painfully inflated," Menchez interjected. "It is true we speak in visceral conflict, but you're supposed to be more passive-aggressive."
RaeLuna tapped her chin. "Or are those Cardassians?"
"Well, they're definitely not us," said the ominous voice of a bald Klingon, stepping around the corner at the end of the hall. He aimed his disruptor at the group. "But I'm sure you already knew that."
Menchez fell onto his back in horrifying disgust. "OH, UGH!! The hair! There's no hair!!"
"There's no anomaly either, is there?" Tressa cut in, turning to face the out-of-time Klingon. "Secret and experimental Tal Shiar holo-technology has been out-fitted to the hull of this Federation starship and is masquerading as a spatial event."
The revamped Klingon smirked. "A lucky guess since, I'm assuming you're Romulan? You look completely low-quality to my era's versions." He stepped forward. "My name's Dova'ch, of the undead House Mo'Kai, and you are aboard the U.S.S. Ragnarok: A ship I will use to empower our cause of honour-killing the Romulan Republic."
"What did we ever do to you?" Reivf asked.
Dova'ch waved the conflict away. "Oh, I just need to prove myself to my cousin J'Ula, and honor the great Kahlessshh!"
"What? That's not how you say it. And why are you quivering in pleasure?" Menchez queried, confused.
Then, the out-of-time Klingon began stepping around pointing at everyone. "I am Klingon! I do what I do because I am Klingonnnn!"
"Now he's wandering around?" Tressa criticized. "We stand still in the 25th century. Calm down."
Then, the out-of-time Klingon began bobbing his head. "Computer, play Demi Lovato, 'Confident'. I feel like dancing." He then pointed at the group. "All 23rd century Klingons dance to Demi Lovato."
"Computer, belay that order!" came the voice of Captain Seifer, a Starfleet officer and Trill, before kicking through a jeffery's tube hatch that then knocked Dova'ch's weapon out of his hand. "Finally. We got the one intruder."
Everyone else immediately trained their weapons on Dova'ch, who reluctantly raised his arms. "Are you serious?" Tressa started. "This one ridiculous Klingon-- if you can call him that-- took over your ship??"
"Oh. No. We crippled ourselves after installing that Tal Shiar tech in an effort to alleviate boredom. This guy just came along out of nowhere and took advantage," Seifer explained. "And do you know how hard it is to find just one guy? This is why I prefer to be invaded by groups."
Menchez walked over and slapped Seifer on the back. "Hahaha! Look at us. Three factions, and we're all getting along swimmingly!"
"No," Tressa defied. "We hate each other and must only work together when there's a common enemy."
Seifer shrugged. "I could work with Menchez on other things. Tribble hunting? Fek'Ihri horde planning? Kobiyashi Maru-ing those painfully annoying Age of Discovery simulations?"
"Oh my Kahless! I haaaaattte those!" Menchez cried out.
Tressa rolled her eyes. "Fine. You two are best friends. But that doesn't negate that one day we'll all hate each other again. It's base nature for people of differing groups, like those half-white/half-black, half-black/half-white guys. I bet when they cut a sandwich in half, they die a little inside."
"Well, if we did, I wouldn't want to be killed by anyone but this guy right here," Seifer said, pulling Menchez in for noogies. "Come here, you perfect Klingon, you! Hahahaha! You're the right kind! Not that guy!"
The Romulan Commander watched, annoyed, as the two bonded in front of her face. "I'm going to have teams extract this tech while you two.... do whatever it is you're doing..."
"You sure you don't want in on this?" Menchez laughed as he put Seifer in a playful headlock. "Hahahaha! We get along so much!"
Tressa grabbed her First officer and stomped out of there. "Reivf, if we ever have to team up with another faction again, I want you to shoot me."
Author's notes: Because the challenges and RPs were over, I digressed to general entries based on events and things released from whatever the current Star Trek Online season was at the time. This was written in July 2020 as part of Season 19. The Bajorans here were last seen in ULCA #4.
Star Trek Online, Season #19
"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."
Author's notes: This was written in July 2020 as part of Season 20 of Star Trek Online. Dova'ch was last seen being captured in ULC #51.
Star Trek Online, Season #20
"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'!"
Comments
Unofficial Literary Challenge #41: Prompt #1: You beam aboard Deep Space 9 for some much needed shore leave and find the Department of Temporal Investigations waiting for you. You're under arrest... for something you haven't done yet! You are to be temporally reintegrated with your future self, and then made to stand trial for your future crimes. What is your reaction to the situation at hand? What crime(s) did you commit, and why? How do you react to your future self's deeds?
Unofficial Literary Challenge #41
"Tempus Fugit"
The Ty'Gokor-class I.K.S. Valentine dropped out of warp and approached Deep Space 9. Captain Elektra, an Orion, sat back, slouched on her command chair eyeing the view on the main screen.
"What a spectacular design of slave-constructed space architecture," deadpanned the Orion female, quite bored. "I'd take a holo-image, but those devices are so large and clunky that I very well can never use them."
Kortos, an elderly Klingon, turned from his Science station. "It's odd how dated technology sometimes looks. Ever see those Starfleet tricorders from the 23rd century? You need a bookshelf just to store them."
"Starfleet is one large petaQ-pie!" announced Targon, another elderly Klingon, from Tactical.
Amos, yet a third elderly Klingon, turned from Operations. "Exactly. It almost sickens me that us old Klingons all served on exchange aboard a Starfleet vessel once before; nothing but weird, reality-bending warp bubbles, space jellies and close-up viewscreen communiqués with Ferengis."
"At least they regularly turn rocks into replicators," interjected Bena, another Orion female, from the Helm station. "All we can do is grow hair on our heads and throw metal blood wine cups at each other."
Elektra got up to prepare for boarding. "Didn't Klingons once go bald? Now, a bald man; that would certainly lift my spirits," she smirked to herself.
"What'd I miss?" said the fourth elderly Klingon and Chief engineer, Grath, as he entered the Bridge whilst trying to remove several tangled brushes out of his hair. "I should not have killed our Bolian barber. I see that now."
---
Later, Elektra slung her way into the Operations section of Deep Space 9, with Doctor Kronk, an Orion male, in tow. There, he placed a medium-sized container holding a Salamander-type alien life form from the Delta Quadrant.
"Our haul, Ambassador S'taass," announced Elektra. "A Warp-10 descendant of Kathryn Janeway and Tom Paris who was plotting to over-throw the Empire through some kind of reverse-evolution tactic."
Kronk nodded. "They appear to have some power beyond the laws of nature." He then looked at the Gorn Ambassador. "By the way, weren't you just on Qo'noS? And I could have sworn I saw you on the Jenolan Dyson Sphere?"
"I get arounddddd for the benefit of your crew and your crew alone," reassured the taller alien. "Which isss not unlike your Captainnn. You sssee, Klingon Temporal Intelligenssse iss here to reintegrate you with your future sssself."
Two Klingons approached and nodded to them. "I am Temporal Investigator, Agent Dolkor."
"And I am Agent Lofsky," said the female one. "We're here because an elusive future alternate-you has committed a time travel crime and now must be reintegrated with this-timeline-you so the resulting merged-yous can stand trial. Side effects may include double-head."
Elektra furrowed her brow. "My, my. A duplicate-me? How irresistible. Unfortunately, as she already exists, I posit that both of us has a right to life, separately."
"You think you can dictate the rules of time travel paradoxes! We reintegrate people on a daily basis," claimed Dolkor.
Lofsky crossed her arms. "Besides, if we allowed all time travel duplicates to maintain their existence, the galaxy would have literally double the population," she ruffled. "And don't bring up the disappearing thing. That only happens in alternate multiverses."
"So, you're saying temporal shenanigans is so common, that you're basically committing a form of murder upon the duodecillions upon duodecillions of people for your own unchecked sense of morality?" Elektra asked.
Dolkor huffed. "Hey, Janeway got to end Tuvix! We want a piece of that action. As for you: You were caught sleeping with an Iconian who, immediately after, launched an attack on Qo'noS."
"I knew it!" blustered Doctor Kronk. "Your lust-filled, sleep-with-every-alien ways are nothing but trouble! Just because Kirk did it, doesn't mean everyone has to."
Elektra rolled her eyes. "He just laid the groundwork— or, spacework, that is— for like-minded people to adopt a command interface with the smorgasbord of attractive people that is this galaxy. Such activities are my inalienable rights, as is my rights to remain alive as I am now." She tapped her wrist communicator. "And, I knew you were coming, since her elusive time-travel incursion was, in fact, to inform me of you herself."
"What is the meaning of all this!?" came the sudden flash of a Klingon, Corvok, bald, from the 29th century Temporal Integrity Commission. "Your jobs as present-day-Investigators is not to enforce integrations, but to report what we and your superiors future-past-present-ask of you. This is why Starfleet is always better than us, in any time period!"
Elektra looked him over and smiled. "Well, aren't you enticing. They finally outlawed hair on men in the future, have they?"
"There was an uproar of hair-fueled civil war in the 27th century. The 'skins' eventually won and banished the 'hairs' to Rura Penthe. We look upon those times with great pride as our ancestors from the 23rd century were not as successful," Corvok explained before taking the two Agents and transporting the three of them away.
Kronk turned to his Captain. "But why would the Integrity Commission integrate some people, like Seven of Nine, and not others, like you?"
"Oh, I'll be checking up on his 'integrity' very soon," Elektra smirked. "After I called on Corvok, he separately promised to meet me later as long as I was to never engage with the Iconians again."
The Doctor nodded. "So, instead of ceasing your methods cold targ-turkey, you just learned to redirect them. Brilliant strategy, Captain, in any time."
"Why'd you go there? That's such a faulty time-travelly one-liner. Also, I'll choose how I live, and not some time bureau without a clue." She paused. "Ah well; at least we captured this one abomination."
They looked to the container, which was now empty due to escape. "Orion-bollocks," cursed the Doctor. "Back to the Delta Quadrant?"
"Fine, but I want you to be our Spore drive this time; and think happy, reverse-death thoughts. I'd like to end up close that seductive Kobali homeworld,” she suggested with a grin before the two of them left for the ship.
Unofficial Literary Challenge #42: Prompt #1: The ancient tradition of Terran Winter Celebrations is such a festive and playful time less the demonic interference of Earth's own mythological Krampus fused with the demons of the Klingon Empire. Your Captain, participating in Q's Winter Wonderland, is suddenly pitted against the fearsome Kramp'Ihri, a gruesome mashup responsible for kidnapping Gingerbread folks. How does your Captain fare against the massive Gift Stealer, its switch and its loyal minions?
Unofficial Literary Challenge #42
"Face the Kramp'Ihri"
Captain Elektra of the Ty'Gokor-class I.K.S. Valentine stood before the Kramp'lhri Watcher, in disbelief, upon the Ice Gazebo in Q's Winter Wonderland.
"So, you're a hideous fangirl of some kind?" the Orion and Klingon Defense Force officer questioned.
The skantily clad Fek'lhri with sharp teeth continued. "No one but me understands how tenacious the Kramp'lhri is! Challenge the Kramp'lhri with honor, creature!"
"Oh my. You've got spunk, don't you?" Elektra said, impressed. "I was like you once: devoted, faithful. It's not all its cracked up to be."
From behind her, the voice of Menchez, a Klingon and Commanding officer, broke through the reverie. "You were more than that, Captain. I posit that you had more backbone and destiny than an army of Nausicaans. Not to mention, once said-battalion was actually defeated by you."
"Weren't you and your ship last seen being hijacked by Augments?" Elektra replied, turning to face him whilst changing the subject. "You were said to be heard screaming in consternation?"
Menchez refuted. "That was from an Epohh bite! But, yeah, my enemy one-upped me by threatening to not-kill my crew and I in a heat of dishonor. Sufficed to say, we're still hijacked. Though, our captors and I did find a Q-Junior copy under a sewer pipe on Kentar. Turns out that guy is everywhere."
"Well, positioning and self-establishing is how I won all my fights," elaborated Elektra. "Not that I've had much to fight for since the Iconian War. Seems like that thing ended faster than it started without any sense that it was happening in the first place."
Suddenly, the bellowing voice of an extra-dimensional entity rang through the Wonderland. "Kramp'lhri has returned! Today is a good day to cry! Hahaha!"
"He has been spotted heading towards the racetracks! Glorious!" exclaimed the Watcher. "I'll wager you can't save any of the gingerbread folk he has taken. Still, it might be fun to watch you try."
Elektra smiled to her before being transported away. "A woman after my own heart."
---
Confronted by the chaotic violence of the giant Kramp'lhri, Elektra joined several others in firing their winter weapons. The result was a shower of coal flanked by switch attacks.
"Naughty, naughty, naughty!" declared the immensely, 6 meter high monstrosity as he deflected snowballs, gummy blasts, and freeze rays from the various participants.
Elektra smirked. "Oh, dear. Aren't you quite the sight to take in? I can see why the Watcher was so enamored with you. Unfortunately, love is blind."
"Yooouuuu have been naughty this year!" the beast announced as Elektra blasted her Unrestricted Aggression gun and fired an entourage of foam dart bursts.
The attack suddenly caused Kramp'lhri to disperse into a cloud of billowing, spinning dust, escaping into the gazebo and rematerializing upon the snow on the other side.
"Ha! My women's scorn knows no bounds," Elektra said, after she and the others caught up to him and reopened fire. "Men like you care not for others, but rather just yourselves! As attractive as that is, I should have expected as much from a newborn Earth myth and Fek'lhri amalgamation."
Menchez pulled up beside her with his gun and blasted a barrage of icicles into the beast. "Actually, according to rumour, this creature was, in fact, the same one that revealed himself unto legend in 16th century Earth's Europe." And then, to explain, "I'm assuming a time travel predestination paradox through a Q visit, as those are the most satisfying."
"This thing was real?? Well, I suppose we're all aliens, so that shouldn't be surprising," Elektra said. "Not that we see ourselves as the aliens. Point is, do you think Kramp'lhri is kind of hot now? I mean, look at him, right?"
Before the Klingon could respond, the build-up of attacks caused Kramp'lhri to lose several large gift boxes, then-splayed all around the attacking group. Just as Elektra attempted to open her own, the giant ran over and plopped his gift-stealing basket over her head.
"Naughty, naughty!"
Elektra struggled to get it off, realizing now that her presumptuous lowered-defenses allowed yet another man to win her over. "Kramp'lhri, forget the Watcher! Run away with me! I've been a baaaadd girl!"
"Captain," Menchez said in shock. "Perhaps I was right about your backbone, which clearly can support not only your stance but this year's Breen ship in any gravity environment." He watched as Elektra cut through the basket with her oversized Black Nanopulse Mek'leth.
She then threw it into the unrelenting mammoth. It burst into spinning dust once more, releasing the gingerbread folk whilst he disappeared back into his pocket universe. "Nooooo! Not yet! There are still naughty children!"
"What the Gre'thor? Why is that mek'leth so large? I just wanted to appeal to him, not send him away??" denounced Elektra.
Next, the Watcher's voice rang through. "The magnificent Kramp'lhri may be gone for now, but he will return! Wondering how well everyone did? Behold!"
"What?" Elektra said, confused and looking around as there was a long, drawn-out silence. "Anyhow, I suppose I forgot how fun an allegiance could be. I'll forego my previous naiveté." She turned to see Menchez putting his weapon away.
The elderly man nodded. "Qapla'! Nice work, Captain. You truly have the heart of a Klingon warrior; unlike the others in our fleet. I may be forsaken, but that has not prevented me from learning about the insolent dishonour that has occurred most recently upon a planet known as Raatooras."
"I have not forgotten about our fleet, Captain," Elektra said.
Menchez clenched his fist. "Those incompetent petaQ allowed that planet's population to perish in utter failure! Since I'm out of commission, I want you to put an end to Captains Sigon, Deloss and Kronen. That is an order."
"Seems somewhat extreme, but Klingons did go bald once," she said, recalling. "As you command, considering what has happened here today. Or is it still night? The sky has mysteriously stayed the same for days now."
The two looked up and around, curiously. Echoes of Q-Junior's diabolical laughter suddenly rang through the Wonderland. "Hahahaha!"
Unofficial Literary Challenge #43: Some cultures bond over shared interests like entertainment or technology. Others join forces to help one another through difficult trials. But the most common bonding, if not the most dangerous, is the bonding over a common enemy. From the Cardassian-Dominion alliance against the Federation to the infamous Voyager-Borg pairing against the Undine, history has shown that even the bitterest of enemies can sometimes unite for a greater cause. Write a log about an alliance your captain has made once to ensure their survival. Perhaps you've sought assistance from the Hirogen with a promise of a grand hunt across time with the Devidians. Maybe you've convinced the Kazon to help you fight against a revitalized Dominion sect. But remember, these alliances will not truly forge a lifelong friendship. There may be a moment in these alliances where even your captain must keep a phaser or disruptor pointed firmly to their left. How far can you trust your enemy?
Unofficial Literary Challenge #43
"Deadly Alliance"
Captain Elektra of the Ty'Gokor-class I.K.S. Valentine stood before the Kramp'lhri Watcher, in disbelief, upon the Ice Gazebo in Q's Winter Wonderland.
"So, you're a hideous fangirl of some kind?" the Orion and Klingon Defense Force officer questioned.
The skantily clad Fek'lhri with sharp teeth continued. "No one but me understands how tenacious the Kramp'lhri is! Challenge the Kramp'lhri with honor, creature!"
"Oh my. You've got spunk, don't you?" Elektra said, impressed. "I was like you once: devoted, faithful. It's not all its cracked up to be."
From behind her, the voice of Menchez, a Klingon and Commanding officer, broke through the reverie. "You were more than that, Captain. I posit that you had more backbone and destiny than an army of Nausicaans. Not to mention, once said-battalion was actually defeated by you."
"Weren't you and your ship last seen being hijacked by Augments?" Elektra replied, turning to face him whilst changing the subject. "You were said to be heard screaming in consternation?"
Menchez refuted. "That was from an Epohh bite! But, yeah, my enemy one-upped me by threatening to not-kill my crew and I in a heat of dishonor. Sufficed to say, we're still hijacked. Though, our captors and I did find a Q-Junior copy under a sewer pipe on Kentar. Turns out that guy is everywhere."
"Well, positioning and self-establishing is how I won all my fights," elaborated Elektra. "Not that I've had much to fight for since the Iconian War. Seems like that thing ended faster than it started without any sense that it was happening in the first place."
Suddenly, the bellowing voice of an extra-dimensional entity rang through the Wonderland. "Kramp'lhri has returned! Today is a good day to cry! Hahaha!"
"He has been spotted heading towards the racetracks! Glorious!" exclaimed the Watcher. "I'll wager you can't save any of the gingerbread folk he has taken. Still, it might be fun to watch you try."
Elektra smiled to her before being transported away. "A woman after my own heart."
---
Confronted by the chaotic violence of the giant Kramp'lhri, Elektra joined several others in firing their winter weapons. The result was a shower of coal flanked by switch attacks.
"Naughty, naughty, naughty!" declared the immensely, 6 meter high monstrosity as he deflected snowballs, gummy blasts, and freeze rays from the various participants.
Elektra smirked. "Oh, dear. Aren't you quite the sight to take in? I can see why the Watcher was so enamored with you. Unfortunately, love is blind."
"Yooouuuu have been naughty this year!" the beast announced as Elektra blasted her Unrestricted Aggression gun and fired an entourage of foam dart bursts.
The attack suddenly caused Kramp'lhri to disperse into a cloud of billowing, spinning dust, escaping into the gazebo and rematerializing upon the snow on the other side.
"Ha! My women's scorn knows no bounds," Elektra said, after she and the others caught up to him and reopened fire. "Men like you care not for others, but rather just yourselves! As attractive as that is, I should have expected as much from a newborn Earth myth and Fek'lhri amalgamation."
Menchez pulled up beside her with his gun and blasted a barrage of icicles into the beast. "Actually, according to rumour, this creature was, in fact, the same one that revealed himself unto legend in 16th century Earth's Europe." And then, to explain, "I'm assuming a time travel predestination paradox through a Q visit, as those are the most satisfying."
"This thing was real?? Well, I suppose we're all aliens, so that shouldn't be surprising," Elektra said. "Not that we see ourselves as the aliens. Point is, do you think Kramp'lhri is kind of hot now? I mean, look at him, right?"
Before the Klingon could respond, the build-up of attacks caused Kramp'lhri to lose several large gift boxes, then-splayed all around the attacking group. Just as Elektra attempted to open her own, the giant ran over and plopped his gift-stealing basket over her head.
"Naughty, naughty!"
Elektra struggled to get it off, realizing now that her presumptuous lowered-defenses allowed yet another man to win her over. "Kramp'lhri, forget the Watcher! Run away with me! I've been a baaaadd girl!"
"Captain," Menchez said in shock. "Perhaps I was right about your backbone, which clearly can support not only your stance but this year's Breen ship in any gravity environment." He watched as Elektra cut through the basket with her oversized Black Nanopulse Mek'leth.
She then threw it into the unrelenting mammoth. It burst into spinning dust once more, releasing the gingerbread folk whilst he disappeared back into his pocket universe. "Nooooo! Not yet! There are still naughty children!"
"What the Gre'thor? Why is that mek'leth so large? I just wanted to appeal to him, not send him away??" denounced Elektra.
Next, the Watcher's voice rang through. "The magnificent Kramp'lhri may be gone for now, but he will return! Wondering how well everyone did? Behold!"
"What?" Elektra said, confused and looking around as there was a long, drawn-out silence. "Anyhow, I suppose I forgot how fun an allegiance could be. I'll forego my previous naiveté." She turned to see Menchez putting his weapon away.
The elderly man nodded. "Qapla'! Nice work, Captain. You truly have the heart of a Klingon warrior; unlike the others in our fleet. I may be forsaken, but that has not prevented me from learning about the insolent dishonour that has occurred most recently upon a planet known as Raatooras."
"I have not forgotten about our fleet, Captain," Elektra said.
Menchez clenched his fist. "Those incompetent petaQ allowed that planet's population to perish in utter failure! Since I'm out of commission, I want you to put an end to Captains Sigon, Deloss and Kronen. That is an order."
"Seems somewhat extreme, but Klingons did go bald once," she said, recalling. "As you command, considering what has happened here today. Or is it still night? The sky has mysteriously stayed the same for days now."
The two looked up and around, curiously. Echoes of Q-Junior's diabolical laughter suddenly rang through the Wonderland. "Hahahaha!"
Anthology of Ragnarok #4
"Finders, Not Keepers"
The Pathfinder-class, with Discovery-class nacelles, U.S.S. Ragnarok trekked altruistically through space. Captain Oroku Seifer entered the Bridge to begin yet another day of saving the universe.
"You know, I think it's about time the universe owed us one," he said, thinking back to his adventures.
Aramaki looked up from his tactical station. "That's quite a Kirk-level claim, sir. You ready to back that up with evidence?"
"Ugh. The obsession people have with truth and verifiable sources is appalling," the Captain deviated. "It's impossible to make arbitrary assertions based in feeding ones ego anymore." He sighed, before looking over to one of the Tomsins. "I retract my earlier statement."
The Operations officer, and Tellarite, suddenly found himself caught off-guard and fearful he made a mistake somewhere. "Huh? Was I supposed to be taking stenography this whole time?"
"Captain! I'm reading a distress signal from Covalesence! It's been coded just for us!" claimed Moggs from his science station.
Seifer smiled, warmly. "Aw, that means they care. Moggs, return message with a digital Thank You Card; one of those animated ones where our heads are placed over a bunch of dancing Orion slave girls."
"Done," the Caitian and science officer replied.
Edwards turned from the helm. "Uhhh. Shouldn't we go help them?"
"Oh, fine. But remember, I was against this," the Captain conceded.
---
Later, the Ragnarok hung in orbit of the Deferi colony world of Covalesence, while Seifer, Moggs and Aramaki beamed down to the subsurface. They joined the leader, Cassen and several of his scientists who were scanning the destroyed underground pyramid.
"Our intensive scans reveal this to be the work of the Breen, as you can see here with the residual polaron energies in the rubble," commented the lead Deferi.
Moggs did some scans of his own and confirmed with a nod. "It is accurate."
"Well, of course it is!" countered Segg, one of the Deferi scientists. "You think we've been neutral in our actions here the whole time??"
The Caitain turned to them. "That reaction in itself lacks neutrality."
"That's besides the point!" Segg retorted before going back to whatever it was he was doing.
Seifer looked to Cassen. "Strange that the Breen would feel the need to destroy all this after they had already taken their scans here. Have you been able to translate the pictographs?"
"Unfortunately, no," replied the alien man. "This form of Ancient Deferi language appears to be assembled in a way that doesn't adhere to our standards of communicative structures. It's like the words and letters were positioned at random for jocularities sakes. But I'm unaware of our peoples having any senses of humor, nor the understanding of what that would entail?"
The Trill man then reacted to Cassen's meaningful and long look. "There's a Data Stand-Up Comedy program that everyone raves about. It's practically why they wanted him to command the Enterprise-F. Alas, Shon usurped him; that greedy blue-face."
"If the Breen came back here to destroy the evidence, then we won't have much time left to track their residual warp trail," Aramaki spelled out.
Seifer nodded. "Agreed. All those in favor of checking out one of those Deferi neutral coffee clubs and then moving into search mode, say Aye?"
"Doubtful that course of action is anything remotely productive right about now," Moggs interjected. "And 'Aye' has become agonizingly cliché."
The Captain sighed. "You guys need to get out more. It's all I'm saying. Wesley saw more social time than either of you."
---
Later, the U.S.S. Ragnarok dropped warp before the Breen Sarr Theln warship Leinstien. The Breen were hailed immediately.
"Enemy vessel, you are in violation of normal-speak," came the hail from Oroku Seifer. "Oh, and the preservation of Deferi ancient sites and such."
"XXrrrzzZZZkkrrrRRRtTTTT!" Marcel replied.
"Exactly! Also, what do you mean, Cassen is a lair? He's the most trust-worthy Deferi I've ever met. Not that I've met many. But you get my point, which I may have self-defeated through deconstruction."
"TTEEFXXSSSsvvvv GGhhhvvvKttt!" Marcel interjected.
"What do you mean I don't sound convincing and you think I lack self-honesty as a personal trait? That's awfully specific? Also, our space adventures, which are our livelihoods, hinge on mission-givers like him. Never mind. What are you doing here anyway? Plotting things, no doubt," Seifer claimed, with no evidence what-so-ever. "I mean, just look at you, however you are interpreted to be situated."
"GGDDDVVVvvvKTTtttZch!" Marcel explained.
"Fascinating. Well, I can't argue with that. The mating patterns of the Regulus Eel-bird are highly complex. —Very well, crew, let's help them," the Captain said, turning to his Starfleet officers. "Do the things!"
Aramaki looked almost panicked. "But, sir, we don't even know what he said? None of us have our universal translators updated!"
"Still? Oh, fine: They translated the inscriptions from that Ancient Deferi site which describe an ancient planetoid, hidden here by said people. If sayings of words can somehow be translated into truth, then our mission was a lie and these Breen were the good guys all along. —Dominion War excluded, obviously."
---
The two ships veered off and began scanning around the cold, blank, emptiness of space. Soon, a planetoid was discovered, hidden in a mass of anti-particles. Both groups then beamed into a cavern, with the Starfleet Away Team wearing EV-suits.
"Captain, I'm detecting more Ancient Deferi pyramids," Moggs said, as the group suddenly entered into a large cavern where many more of them existed.
Seifer looked at him. "Mr. Moggs, you know I like to be pleasantly surprised using the classically effervescent 'You better come see this' statement."
"Uh, 'you better come see this' statement," said Aramaki before realizing that Seifer was standing right next to him. "What the? How long have you been right here?"
The Captain waved him off. "Forget that. It looks like more Breen, but I don't recognize this group," he said while examining a second plethora of soldiers inside the cavern with them.
"VVVRRRrKKkkkZZ jjjjjvvrrtt!" exclaimed Kovan, the leader of the new Breen group as he approached and stepped on an embossed stone-tile in the ground.
Seifer translated. "Kovan is the leader of a pack of Breen Rebels, who also want what Marcel and the Deferi are looking for."
"GRRggh!" agreed Marcel as he witnessed the effects of the stone-tile prompting several ejecting spears to be shot out at everyone.
Both the Starfleet Away Team and the two Breen groups scrambled around giant rocks for cover. The ejecting spears continued being fired from the cavern's extraneous internal walls. In the distance, under a giant, blank wall, was a switch and carved images of a man holding a spear.
"Must be the mechanism to stop this," Seifer presumed, his back to the rock, alongside Marcel. "Or, a lever to fire even more ammunition at us. I'm sure it could go either way."
Marcel then declared, "VVrrrKGGgghhTTTK nnKTTt!" ordering he and his men to go for it.
"Captain, no!" Seifer countered, all but too late, as everyone watched the Breen men from the second group, run, dodge and leap over incoming spears. One of the Breen were immediately impaled, and then another: Then another, and another, until Marcel himself reached the end.
The Breen Captain was the last to be impaled before he was able to pull the ancient lever. Everyone watched in awe as the eons-old defense system halted while triggering another mechanism in the wall, causing the blank area to rotate around and reveal pictographs on what was its opposite side.
"VVKKRRRDDDxxzzVVrrtttTTT MrrxsssDDDDdd!" said Kovon, reading the inscriptions. "Vrrt."
Seifer translated for his crew. "This was a city lead by the Druids of the Deferi, who were apparently managers of something akin to being called the Deferi Powered-Man. Also, run." He then attempted to process that last part. "Run from what?"
Suddenly, the entire cavern began to shake ever more. Rocks from the ceiling began to fall, threatening everyone, and prompting Kovon to contact his ship and beam he and his group out.
"Well this is an odd turn of events," admitted Aramaki. "This whole thing was about a man?"
The Captain nodded. "Men have been the movers and shakers of the galaxy for eons and eons to come, as well as women. It's about equal actually, if not, more-leaning on the women-side. Besides, Marcel was right about the Deferi, invalidating our very purpose here, and now he's dead, proving the Breen are much cooler than we thought. Pun intended." He then tapped his commbadge. "Seifer to Ragnarok: KKKVVVvvZZZzzrrk! VVrrrrkkk!! BBbvvvrrt!!!?%$^!!"
"Uh, what?" came the reply from Winry over comms.
Seifer snapped. "You were supposed to learn Breen while we were gone! Anyway, get us out of here. No rush, though. Nothing bad ever happens during a hasty beam-out."
At that, the group dematerialized along with several giant rocks as the cave collapsed all around.
"Aw man, I just got Tuvix'd!" Seifer said as he and his team beamed onto the transporter pad of the Ragnarok, finding several rocks fused to all-over-his-body. "Well, I won't do what Janeway did and reverse it. Rock body stays, everybody," he reassured. "Rock body stays."
Unofficial Literary Challenge #46: What was supposed to be one of the innumerable small performances (song, poetry, interpretive dance, Italian Opera, Klingon Opera, German Opera, etc.) to stave off the tedium of deep-space duty seems to have spun out of control. It was bad enough when that new rating turned out to have been a star on his/her colony before signing up, making everyone choose a far more difficult performance than normal, but then said rating was called for a special mission/redshirted.
But the show must go on - as part of Starfleet's efforts to show the return to peace (or the KDF showing the 'poet' side of warrior-poet, or the Republic's efforts to continue culturally reengineering Romulan society, etc.) - they've caught the scent and sent a camera crew to record the performance.
Guess who was the understudy? Does it go well? Humorously? Or is better to set the auto-destruct and beat the rush to the escape pods, the humiliation sure to be less than if the tapes get out?
Unofficial Literary Challenge #46
"I'm a Captain, Not an Actor!"
The I.K.S. Valentine sat in orbit of Archanis IV firing extensively modified antiprotons into empty space, puncturing a hole into Gre'thor itself and opening a giant portal. When three trapped Klingon ships emerged, Captains Sigon, Deloss and Kronen beamed back over to their crews.
"Well, it's about time! It feels like those modifications took months," complained the Ferasan, Kronen, from the view screen.
The Orion, Elektra, crossed her arms. "You know it's still the year 2410, and that we have no down time what-so-ever. Not that you have to worry about as much anymore."
"What do you mean by that? You have come off awfully stand-off-ish ever since we rescued you from that Chieftain monster," came the split-screen hail from the Klingon, Captain Sigon. "Almost like you intended to do something or another once things were wrapped up."
Then the Gorn, Deloss, split the screen three ways. "Yeah! Not to mention the fact you 'accidentally' drove a dk'tang through my chest. Good thing there are Gorn hearts all throughout our bodies."
"Oh, fine. But hidden agendas are a norm and not a surprise in this Empire," she scolded. "The only reason I rescued you petaQ from Gre'thor was so that I could send you back there again— only dead!" And then, "It's redundant now. I see that."
Sigon's jaw dropped. "You insolent fake-news slave girl! You have finally shown your inherent, randomized treasonous ways! I guess there are just people out there who exist merely to be the enemies of other people with no other purpose whatsoever."
"It's far from random ever since you murdered Rukkh! I actually liked him! Not to mention the failure you three exhibited by not saving the entire population of Raatooras from Sage-like destruction," countered Elektra.
Kronen turned to his view screen counterpart, Sigon. "You fool! You were supposed to cover that up! Next time, you're not invited to my worship ceremony of me. I was going to have more gagh-based streamers and everything."
"Oh, great, now I'm going to have Klingon dishonor all over me," complained Deloss. "I'm going to be stress-throwing giant rocks for weeks!"
Elektra rolled her eyes. "Give me a break. You only have yourselves to blame for your ongoing incompetence: Deloss let another Moriarty hologram escape back at our home base, and Kronen has a Mirror Universe double that is more annoying than a Talaxian/Human boy wonder combined! The point is, I have orders."
"—Orders to have fun and party down!" came the fourth split screen hail from Captain Menchez himself. "Remember, Sigon? Like how you used to before you prevented me from an honorable death? Right?"
Everyone reacted on utter shock at the old Klingon's sudden appearance from what seemed like out of nowhere.
"Sir, it was last reported your ship, the I.K.S. Kragoth, its crew and yourself were hijacked by Augments and blackmailed into serving them?" Deloss inquired. "Sure, it was in an RP rather than a ULC, but it still holds." And then, "Oh, the former stands for royal pain, and the latter stands for Unrelenting Loyalty Championship— A week-long test we measure ourselves of quite regularly in the Empire."
Menchez laughed. "Oh, you four are hilarious indeed! It's like some writer from Sto-vo-kor came down and wrote your lives so epically," he mused. "Indeed, I have been preoccupied and unable to lead our little fleet, but it has been wonderful on my own! The Augments have varied entertainment tastes, which I now see align to that of our precious empire. You simply must join my presentation of the Song of the Dead: A Heart-Wrenching Tribute to Those Lost, Not in Battle."
The screen then cut out, and the group tracked his extra-long-range transmission to the previously-thought eradicated world of Raatooras.
"What!? Must've been technology the Augments stole. Oh, and by the way, did he seem different to any of you?" asked Sigon, confused and shocked all at once. "I mean, the hair in a bun was certainly my red flag."
Deloss snarled. "He obviously requires back up. There is something more going on here. Isn't that right, Captain Elektra? I'm referring to your 'orders,' by the way, if that subtext was not clear."
"I don't need to be lectured by you three. I was out saving the galaxy when your grandfather was in diapers!" Elektra said.
Kronen tilted his head in confused. "Aren't you the youngest of us all, and Hell-bent on mate seeking? Never mind. Let's just all agree not to have it out with each other yet and, instead of spectating, we go in and eliminate those mutant-men once and for all."
"Agreed. After Menchez is back, we will have it out, and not in that Starfleet-harmless-brawl kind of way; I mean actual killing and death and such," explained Sigon. "I want blood and screams. Work with me, people!"
Everyone just looked at him awkwardly, before jumping to warp and into the mission.
---
Later, the I.K.S. Baetal, Masamune, Dragunov and Valentine dropped out into normal space, joining the Kragoth in orbit of Raatooras. The four Captains beamed down onto a large opera stage, circled by Augment-audience seating.
"Welcome to the celebration for The Children of Khan!" came the announcement from Hokke who stepped onto stage with them. "You four are in for a delight. This world is now claimed ours, and your Fleet Captain, here, has been so kind as to prepare a little something for us."
Sigon pulled out his disruptor. "You can forget the niceties, Augment. We've come to take Menchez back, despite the inhabitants of this world being lost because of us."
"Only by extension, may I add," Deloss said, taking out his weapon. "A Takarian Sage did the actual work. We were just late to stop him. Did anyone even read ULC 38? Oh, universal library chronicle 38."
Menchez then put his hands together, prepared to recite his rhythmic epic:
"As you may know, our sorrows grow;
We share them high, we share them low.
But what say you, is how we deal?
Why, a brand new society: to help us heal!"
Kronen instinctively aimed his own disruptor out at the Augments, while turning to his commanding officer. "Sir, are you... reciting Takarian-like poetry? Delta Quadrant inspired?"
"A world anew, of beings so strong;
Like the Arin'Sen past, they'll come along.
Feasts of no other, with blood-food to suffice;
Don't you think, think it would be so nice?"
Elektra took out her weapon and turned to her three other counterparts. "You fools want to redeem yourselves? Then we must trust Menchez is doing this for a reason and do our job! You know, that thing you were supposed to do last time?"
"But this time he's acting really strange," said Sigon as he saw an Augment come running for him. "And, let's be honest, he ordered Elektra to have us all killed. I say he dies first! As a byproduct of poetry-slamming, not that whole him-regretting-me-saving-his-life-thing that one time."
As the group opened fire on incoming, attacking Augments, Menchez continued his surly expose:
"The Sages, thee, of past and lost;
I call upon you, to judge with cost.
This world was not yours, of that to command;
You do not belong on this surface, not this land."
Suddenly, the entire stadium began to shake, and an Arin'Sen man, already merged with the Great Sage, floated in from the top striking lightning upon the attacking Augments, giving relief to the four fighters.
"This world belongs to no one but the Arin'Sen," he claimed in an echoed, booming voice. "You are not welcome here."
Kronen looked on in shock. "You lair! You said you were leaving to look for more of your kind?? I could've been the god here— in a mortal way. I had this great story written about where I died and came back to life. It's nonsensical, but people fall for it every time."
"Aha! So, we were right. We knew he was here, which was why we tricked Menchez into calling him out," Hokke said, taking out his tricorder. "We plan to offer him real godhood and leadership among the Children of Khan, for access to his unlimited power. It's pretty obvious the Takarians were too dumb to appreciate it. I mean, they ended up worshiping Ferengi."
The Arin'Sen/Sage floated down to them, with Menchez realizing the situation. "Unlimited power? This world was never really cleansed, was it? You hid the Arin'Sen from the Klingon Empire because we continued to ravage them of their food and supplies? I'd say women too, but Klingons have a strict sexual harassment policy that people are constantly shocked to hear that we do."
"So, now you're not rhyming?" Deloss said, looking to Menchez. "And does this mean you were playing the Augments all along? Because that would be delightful."
At that, the entire stadium began to fill with Arin'Sen inhabitants, thought long-dead, glowing with Sage power, as they outnumbered the sparse Augments in the audience. "No! They're alive?? This was to be our planet!" Hokke countered. "We had plans for genetically modified everything! We love GMOs!"
"The Arin'Sen are resilient people to have put up with the Klingon Empire. The Klingons, nor you Augments, are anything like them," the Sage explained as Sigon, Deloss, Kronen and Elektra turned their weapons' aim at him.
Sigon signaled his compatriots to stand down. "Wait! He's right. I was instrumental in the annual conquering of this world. True honour would be us strengthening our conquered worlds, not absorbing their resources until they're dry. Together, we are stronger. Right, Captain Elektra?"
"An interesting perspective, Sigon," the female Orion said as all the Augments were wiped away from the dimensional plane. "Perhaps we divide ourselves when we don't understand the actions of each other."
The Sage's glow began to dim as he approached the group. "So, you are in fact capable of change, are you? If that is so, I will deal with the Children of Khan, if you five will cease the abuse of this culture. No lies this time."
"Lies or not, this planet still belongs to the Klingon Empire," reminded Menchez. "We've been its custodians since the 22nd century, and it will take some convincing with the Council to change our demands."
The Sage looked to him, before slowly disappearing and taking the glow of the local inhabitants with him. "You will do what is right. The Arin'Sen are yours once again to protect. Do not fail them, or I will be back with my siblings."
"Speaking of failure, we must not falter on our promise to each other— lessons of division notwithstanding," Deloss said as he, Kronen, Sigon and Elektra all aimed their disruptors at each other in standard Klingon practice.
Menchez looked on in shock. "Huh? Oh, the murder and death thing. Ordering my fleet to kill each other may have been a result of my compromised circumstances. Not to mention, conflict and dysfunction is inherent in our instincts, so all we're doing at this point is playing into them."
"Well, I don't want to be predictable," Elektra said taking down her weapon and activating her transport. "But I won't forgive what my fleetmates did to my Chieftain slave. I'm taking 3 million energy credits from our shared bank as payment."
When she dematerialized, Deloss reached over to activate his own wrist communicator. "Finally, a non-Klingon method in taking over a world, I, as a Gorn, can embrace. I will prepare a rock throwing Olympic ceremony that will unite us."
"No Sage, huh?" Kronen said as he watched Deloss disappear. "This bodes well for my coming back to life story. How did you do your undead thing, Menchez? The Calibus VII virus? Interesting."
After he was gone, Sigon crossed his arms. "Your poetry was epic and instrumental. Also, it was catchy. We Klingons know this craft all too well, I now realize, and it does not emasculate us at all."
"Uh, no. No it doesn't. Besides, I did it better than the Takarians! Hah! Also, I do not regret that you saved my life that time from the Kazon-Rokka," replied Menchez. "Come. We will work as a proper fleet, finally. A party, perhaps, on our vessels this time to celebrate."
Sigon nodded. "I would like that, Captain. Qapla!" The two clasped each other's wrists in newfound camaraderie and transported up to their respective ships.
Unofficial Literary Challenge #47: Prompt #1: You and your crew have been chosen to escort a Dominion diplomatic team through the wormhole and back to Dominion space while bringing your side's own diplomats with you to further negotiations. Write a log entry about your experiences.
Unofficial Literary Challenge #47
"Dominion Delegation"
The Negh'Tev-class I.K.S. Kragoth moved to be swallowed whole by the Bajoran wormhole at Deep Space 9. Captain Menchez took a seat in his chair on the Bridge as the ship was then surrounded by the glory of the verteron phenomenon.
"So, it's come to this, has it? We've been relegated to the ULC's," the aging Klingon remarked, staring forward at the fantastical vision upon the viewscreen.
RaeLuna, a half-Human, half-green-alien and his first officer, turned from her stance, standing next to him. "Are you speaking of the underwater love cauldron we are to attend in two weeks?"
"Yeah; that. It's irrelevant, anyway. Our mission at this very moment is to escort Dominion diplomats and Klingon diplomats to the Gamma Quadrant."
Vato, a rugged Klingon male and the Security officer, looked up from a rear console. "Captain, why did you wait until now to tell us this? I have had both groups violently locked up in the Brig for trespassing for hours now."
"Oh, when you've been on the job for as long as I have, you find it more fun to reveal details to your crew through passing remarks and detached indifference," chuckled Menchez. "Also, old age memory loss."
Seconds later, Vato released the two groups from the Brig, prompting them both to rush to the Bridge.
"This is unacceptable behaviour, Captain!" argued Dahar Master and diplomat Gaurantan, who was accompanied by two other of his Klingon aides. "I will have your head on a Klingon Gin'tak spear!"
The Vorta, Feylou, and two of his Jem'Hadar soldiers, entered the Bridge from opposite doors. "We, on the other hand, quite appreciate the experience and study of the inner workings of Klingon jailing processes."
"Did you like the Rura Penthe-inspired Chameloid inmate and accompanying cigar?" smirked Ulkegh, a Klingon female and officer. "It's standard for all KDF containment cells now."
Feylou clasped his hands excitedly. "You know we did! Morphable humanoids are an obsession that extends right into what some may deem for us as inappropriate. Oh, and thank you for the misplaced-aggressive Nygean-style prison violence."
"Am I the only one here who is out-raged??" blurted Gaurantan. "This is merely a symptom of a greater problem with you, Menchez: Coming back from being undead, partaking in Winter Wonderlands, nearly-losing your other ship to the Kazon-Rokka, submitting this vessel to the Children of Khan, and singing Takarian poetry on the planet Raatooras? Evidence of foolhardy, fooly cooly foolishness!"
Menchez stood up to confront the honoured Master. "I submit to you that all those activities are necessary in this universe. That, without the willingness to embrace the absurd, grow, and break the monotony, we would have been truly failures for never having been written— I mean, existed— in the first place."
"I must say, Great Master," began Feylou, "Your unwillingness to read— I mean, be open to new experiences is surely a fearful and grim situation all together. That is the basis of all Dominion principles. It's what drives our invasion forces, powers our killing-weapons, and thrusts our pointy-blades into the hearts of our dear friends. We will have to deliberate on whether it is worth continuing talks with you."
The Vorta then turned to his two ketracel white-addicted soldiers.
"Come. Let us return to the holding cells for the ritual fight with a horned alien," ordered Feylou. "I hear the key is to kick him in the knee-genitals."
As the group left through the doors they came, Gaurantan reached out his palm. "Wait; no! We Klingons invade too! It builds our egos and is the foundation of our reward systems!"
"Well, perhaps it should be more perverse," suggested Menchez as the Dominion delegation left. "Like, maybe we could conquer for sport or the bloodlust?" Then, dreamily, he added, "Mmm. I could go for some tasty humanoid blood right now."
As he realized the crew was looking at him strangely, Menchez sat back in his chair.
"Vato, please take the Dahar Master to our best Guest Quarters. You know, the one with all those bed cushions and chandeliers that don't fall even when we're in battle."
Gaurantan took a few steps back. "What? No! I want to go back to the Brig! I want to fight the voles for my blood cakes! I will not be a failure like you!"
"Sorry, Your Grace. But it's extravagance and pampering here on out. Hope you enjoy giant leaf fans and wiggly gagh being fed to you one-by-one," threatened Menchez as the Dahar Master was gracefully and respectfully led out.
The diplomat yelled as the doors were closing him off from the Bridge. "You'll pay for this, Menchez! You'll regret this for however long we Klingons live, which is an undetermined convenience in itself! Wait? Even that's a luxury! No! Noooo!"
Unofficial Literary Challenge #47: Prompt #2: With the release of VIL, do a story where you are assisting the Dominion in a mission, or are a member of the Dominion. Doesn't have to be a Jem'Hadar, could be a Vorta POV.
Unofficial Literary Challenge #47
"For the Dominion!"
The Negh'Tev-class I.K.S. Kragoth dropped warp and joined the Dominion vanguard heavy raider Lyngon-5328 at an asteroid belt in the Torad sector of the Gamma Quadrant.
"It is agreeable to see you, Captain," came the hail from Lyngon-5328 by its Jem'Hadar Honored First, Kurok'Tekan.
Captain Menchez stood from his seat at the Bridge of the Kragoth. "You're thinking of Vulcans! Klingons just start shouting obscenities and falsified claims."
"My apologies, Oh Eternally Angry One," said the Vorta, Feylou, who suddenly walked into frame. "He's new here. Almost like a newborn son to me, considering he still has Dominion birthing chamber goop all over him."
The Kragoth's half-Human half-green-alien first officer, RaeLuna, raised an eyebrow. "Didn't we just deliver you to peace-talks with Klingon diplomats?"
"That was my predecessor, Feylou-6. Your precious Dahar Master Gaurantan broke his neck during a discussion about what snackables to have at the table."
Menchez nodded. "As any Dahar Master in charge of diplomacy would. Also, our gagh addiction is much like your ketrecel white addiction, except we go mad within seconds."
"Klingons and Dominion working together," mused Kurok'Tekan. "Stranger things have never happened, nor will again, nor should have to begin with."
---
Beaming down to a low-gravity cave, Menchez, RaeLuna, and security/operations officer Ulkegh met with Feylou, Kurok'Tekan and Second Wui'Xiau.
"Since it was we who detected the Hur'q here, it us who will lead this mission," declared Menchez.
Kurok'Tekan readied his polaron rifle. "The only reason you were ever allowed in Dominion territory is because your scent repels the Karemma."
"petaQ! How dare you take that tone with me!" countered the Captain. "Then again, we are proud of our odorous effect on an entire species. Their Prime Minister completely lost his lunch last week."
Suddenly, one of the nearby walls opened up, revealing a large group of Hur'q on a level below, celebrating. The Hur'q that opened the wall stopped himself in shock.
"Whoa! Is there a humanoid convention or have the cows gone missing?" the Hur'q quipped. "Seriously, though, my name is Craven."
Kurok'Tekan dropped his aim. "Hold on. You can talk?"
"Oh, please. Talk? Why we're the foremost melodically auditory masters of our generation— meaning, we can siiiinnnnnggg!" And then, after a moment, he added, "But, to clarify, we're a group of Hur'q who circumvented the madness from our dependency on our fungus. Evolution, perhaps? I don't know. I'm just a crystals systems analyst with barely any weekends off. It's crazy at the office some days. My co-worker Jane knows all about it."
Feylou turned to Kurok'Tekan. "Why are you chatting with this Xindi-wannabe? Our mission here is to exterminate him!"
"Yeah, we haven't had contact with the outside galaxy in eons. How are things? Do they still use laser disc?" Craven asked.
Menchez waved those questions away. "Your people have succumbed to the madness previously aforementioned and are running amuck, consuming the cosmos. They specifically attacked my homeworld centuries ago."
"Ha! Oh yeah, that sounds like us," Craven chuckled. "Seriously, though, we do not side with them at all. Our society is one of simple tailors and barbershop quartets— but the bug versions, of course. We refuse to associate with those foam-mouthed vermin."
Kurok'Tekan felt Feylou's eyes burrowing into his face, but diligently ignored it. "Then you will assist the Dominion and the Alliance in opening communications with the enemy."
"Have you lost your mind!?" Feylou snapped at his Jem'Hadar subordinate.
The Hur'q flailed his humanoid arms. "Yeah, we couldn't even if we wanted to. No one remembers the old tongue. There was that one guy, but he was squashed by a giant Spock clone. Came out of nowhere."
"Some progenitor you turned out to be," Feylou continued with Kurok'Tekan before turning to Menchez. "Then you, Klingon, will complete your mission or I will have the entire Dominion fleet descend upon you like a plague of bug-like aliens of some kind."
Menchez quickly and swiftly snapped his neck, allowing the now dead Vorta to fall to the floor. Everyone watched in shock before Wui'Xiau pulled up his weapon at the Captain. Kurok'Tekan just chuckled, prompting his Second to man-down.
"Hahaha! You know they'll just make another one, don't you?" the First reminded Menchez. "Also, they always expect the Klingons to do the head thing. Like, sixty of you have done it since the Dominion War."
The old Captain nodded. "We are compelled to murder Vorta. Perhaps it is their prey-like distinction. By the way, don't ever put us in a room with Kelpian people. We will eat their faces off without even killing them first."
"The Jem'Hadar are not bred to use our mouths to consume, as we only require the White, but we have had Kelpian before and it is absolutely delicious," agreed Kurok'Tekan.
Craven held up his muscular arm. "Hold on. We haven't had official outsiders other than some giant clone and you guys in centuries, but we were able to replace our madness-driving hunger with one thing: a major Kelpian import. Would you care to join us?"
"Would I?? That's probably what I've been smelling since we've come down here!" the old Klingon perked, excitedly.
Kurok'Tekan nodded. "We have drawn blood, so now we will feast."
"Now you're getting us!" Menchez slapped the Jem'Hadar on his back agreeably as the entire group followed Craven into the festivities below. "You know, you Jem'Hadar are alright."
Anthology of Ragnarok #5
"The Deferi Powered-Man"
The Pathfinder-class, with Discovery-class nacelles, U.S.S. Ragnarok drifted aimlessly in space, rotating endlessly for what seemed like all foreseeable time.
Captain Seifer, laced with fused rocks throughout his body, entered the Messhall and approached the replicator.
"One redbat stew, please," he requested before the bowl materialized and he took it to a table. His left hand was just a rock, causing him to accidentally smash the bowl when reaching for the spoon. "Ah, it's just as well. I heard this stuff was cancerous to non-Andorians."
Aramaki, Winry, and Moggs walked over and sat with the Captain. "Sir, some of the crew and I are worried about you," Aramaki said. "You refuse to reverse a transporter accident, you left the lights on in the Cargo Bay, and our entire payload of replicated chocolate has been depleted."
"What do I eat!? WHAT DO I EAT!??" screamed the Betazoid officer Cetra as she ran by.
Seifer looked impressed. "I'm glad when examples present themselves immediately following the set-up."
"On the other hand, we've been examining our scans of the Deferi Druid wall depictions," Moggs said, while taking out a PADD with their work. "They're just like two other Deferi planetoids, found in the last three centuries with similar depictions."
Seifer grabbed the PADD with his one good hand and examined the data. "This says these are Deferi breakfast menus. It's a recipe for a grey paste with no flavor whatsoever!"
"They're neutral in their foods. Is that surprising?" Winry asked. "Except the portions in these instructions are massive. More than one army of complacent doltish simpletons could ever eat."
The Captain put the PADD down. "The Deferi Powered-Man. All these ancient colonies, were somehow working together to supplicate this thing. Because they worshiped it?"
"Yep! Yep! Thoughts and prayers and paste! Yep!" came the excitement of Lieutenant Edwards as she sat down with a bowl of her own redbat stew and began sipping it.
Seifer panicked. "Edwards, no!"
"It's okay," interjected Doctor Cetra as she sat down with an open bag of coffee beans. "I regularly modify her DNA with Andorian so she can eat that."
The Captain sighed. "Ever since I messed things up by duplicating all those unnecessary Tomsins, I've been stressing about my missions going bad. Losing Marcel just solidified those fears and keeping my transporter accident was going to be my reminder. But seeing you guys come together now gives me hope." He stood up. "Let's find this thing."
"Hey guys, did we miss an impromptu meeting?" asked one of two Tomsins, approaching the table.
Seifer snapped at them. "Yes you did. You're relieved of duty!"
"Dammit, I told you we should've got our haircuts from that Bolian, second," one of the Tomsins said to the other.
The other felt his copy's head. "He's dead now."
---
Later, the Ragnarok approached a derelict, rogue planet, orbited by the Breen vessel Nokoda and the Deferi ship Sannaska.
"Both vessels are completely empty, sir," reported Aramaki from tactical.
Moggs checked his PADD. "It would seem the Breen and the Deferi came to the same conclusion we did. The locations of each wall inscription were pointing to a world in this vicinity."
"Everything is constantly moving in this galaxy," countered Cetra. "How did you extrapolate celestial history without knowing exact dates?"
The Science officer Moggs just shrugged. "Eh, I just pointed randomly at the map. Starfleet! Am I right?"
No one answered him.
"I'm right."
---
A now whole-Seifer, Aramaki, Moggs and Winry beamed down to a large, underground cavern with enormous sections of lower-level areas: One side filled with Breen soldiers and the other Deferi.
"Here are all the lifeforms we detected," said Aramaki as he scanned with his tricorder. "I just love scanning for lifeforms."
The Captain shook his head in disapproval when Aramaki looked at him for permission to sing. Meanwhile, a Breen away team and a Deferi away team on the same upper level as them, hurried over.
"Hold it right there," said the Deferi leader Cassen as he aimed a phaser at them. "Yes, that's right. We have taken a not-neutral stance, and we are not fainting as one would think."
Winry crossed her arms. "You're using Osmotic eels, aren't you? They cure anything."
"Pretty much all of us are," Cassen replied. "As you can see, we have the situation under control."
But the Breen commander, Kovan, felt otherwise. "SKKZZTTkktt!"
"Well, except for them," the Deferi seceded. "You see, you were supposed to take out the Breen and get them out of the way for us."
Seifer tilted his head. "You lied to us Cassen. You used us!"
"I'm pretty sure I just admitted to that," he said. "That you're here now suggests a meddling of unexpected proportions."
The Captain shrugged. "That's pretty much our unspoken philosophy. As for you, it's apparent now that all you wanted to do is bring back your Deferi Powered-Man. But it didn't work out the way you'd have hoped, did it?"
"Some mechanism in this cave transported all of our crews off our ships and into these chambers after we triggered one of the traps here," Cassen admitted. "A force field of some kind prevents us from freeing them."
Suddenly, the entirety of Seifer's crew were transported into an open lower-area section, much to his surprise. "What!? But we didn't trigger any traps?"
"Oh, that's just going to keep happening with any ship that approaches," the Deferi replied. "There are sections for crews for the whole planet. Who knows why?"
Aramaki turned to him. "What's the point of all this? Why bring back some ancient behemoth?"
"Because I'm tired of being the neutral species with no power what-so-ever. It's opened us up for bullying by the Breen and any species that comes by! Seriously, even the Pakleds. They made us dress them??"
Kovan added, "KKrrTTjjjvvvvVVt!"
"He says he just wants power," Cassen translated. "Man, that's one dimensional. Get with the character development, Kovan."
Seifer walked over to a giant stone circle embedded into the side of the cave, appearing to be ancient with engravings and movable sections. "This is how you get him, isn't it? The Deferi Powered-Man?"
"Precisely. But any wrong move, and we could lose everyone," Cassen said. "Not that I care about what happens to the Breen. Hah! This taking-sides thing is giving me an adrenaline rush!"
The Captain pointed to some engraved pictographs. "According to these depictions, rotating these stone parts a certain way will open the forcefields."
"Sir, are you sure about this?" questioned Moggs. "You could literally lose your whole crew! Or duplicate them. I'm sure either scenario is as plausible."
Seifer shook his head. "No, but I can't let that possibility hold me back anymore. I'll make quadruple Tomsins if it means we progress in some way."
"I recognize these engravings. They're the recipes found on the other worlds," Aramaki said in surprise. "We can align them to match the layouts of the other cave inscriptions."
Nodding, Seifer replied, "Make it so."
As the group of three away teams got to work, rotating the interior circles to line up properly, Seifer, Cassen and Kovan took a step back to get a wider view of their progress.
"This is it! We will finally have some gravitas!" belted Cassen. "This is what I was thinking: The Breen gets him Mondays and Tuesdays, the Federation gets him Wednesdays and Thursdays, and we Deferi get him the rest of the week. What do you think?"
Kovan agreed. "FFVVVKKRRTT!"
"Hold on a second," interrupted Seifer. "Those rectangle engravings we just rotated represent the areas our crews are in. They appear below the main creature figure."
Cassen tugged his elongated alien ear. "Huh. It looks like... it's eating them?"
VVVRRRRTTTT!!! came the loud noise of the cave as the stone circle was complete. The entire area shook while the circle moved to the side to reveal a giant 20-foot creature within. It began to move, restlessly.
"Our crews are its meal!" Cassen realized.
Seifer took out his phaser and aimed it at the giant being. "Those areas are probably where your people put your boring grey paste. Only, the one ingredient it was missing was people."
"Haaa! People are food. I like it," said Aramaki. "Oh, but not right now."
The enormous creature stepped out and prompted the away teams to scatter. "RRRRRAAAAAAOOOORRRRR!!!!" came its piercing scream while it flung its fists into the ground, smashing into the floor.
"Open fire. We have to destroy that living piece of history!" Captain Seifer commanded. "Oh man. The Federation Historical Society is going to kill me."
The Breen complied, but the Deferi held back.
"Don't!" Cassen ordered his people. "We must remain neutral until it is in our power once again. Sure, our crews will die, but they have been trained to have no reactions either way when being eaten."
The Deferi Powered-Man moved to the force fielded sections with the crews inside and began smashing his large fists, draining the power of the fields with each attack.
"I have an idea," Seifer said, snapping his fingers. "Can we replicate an equivalent portion of Ancient Deferi grey paste and beam it down here?"
Moggs began running the calculations on his PADD. "That would require all the Ragnarok's replicators running at once until all decks were flooded with that gobbledy-goop!"
"Did I say 'make it so' yet? I think I did. But it's such a good one. I'll have to write Picard a 'thank you' note, wherever he is, whatever he's doing. They should make a series about that. I'd call it Make it So."
---
Suddenly, aboard the U.S.S. Ragnarok, all the replicators were activated remotely and began spewing out grey food-paste, non-stop. The paste poured out of everyone's quarters and onto the decks.
---
Meanwhile, sections of the grey paste began beaming down into the cavern, catching the Deferi Powered-Man's attention and causing him to stop smashing the forcefields.
"GGGrrggg!!!"
It turned and ran off toward a lower-level section where the paste was filling up from transports, and fell in face-first.
"Oh no," worried Winry as she tapped frantically at her own PADD. "The ship is producing more grey, boring content than we asked it to. One of the algorhythms must be clogged in a redundant unofficial literary code net!"
Seifer turned to her. "Are you making this an analogy thing? What the hell? Don't do that!"
"It's too late," said Aramaki as he pointed to the giant pool of grey paste the large creature was previously revelling in. "The Powered-Man is drowning!"
Cassen stepped forward. "No! My return-to-inaction has wrought terrible consequences!"
"VVVffffKkrrRttkk," agreed Kovan.
Everyone watched as the giant creature choked and died on its own gluttony.
The Breen away team opened fire upon the forcefields covering each of the crews until the energy barriers were depleted. All the Breen then transported back up to their ship to go home.
"I guess the Breen stopped being interested after the opportunity for power was gone," Seifer postulated. "A hard-learned lesson for all of us about motivation."
Cassen looked at him. "What are you talking about? We already could predict their actions! That's how one-dimensional they were!"
"Well, then the Breen lesson is that losing someone like Marcel leads to terrible replacements," concluded the Captain.
The non-neutral Deferi leader grumbled as he walked away to tend to his people. Meanwhile, the now-free crew of the Ragnarok began beaming back to the paste-filled ship to open all the bay doors.
"And what's our lesson, Captain?" Moggs said turning to him.
Seifer thought for a moment. "That death accompanies all things from the ancient past, because that's how we got things done back then."
"Yeah, we're much more civilized now," agreed Winry. "Tea earl grey hot has been the Federation's intergalactic drink for twenty years going."
Aramaki put his PADD away. "And what of the 'mission,' sir?"
"The mission to seek out old life and murder it? Yes, that will continue, especially since I have one of the most effective Bridge crews in the fleet," confirmed Captain Seifer. "You should've saw my last crew. They were obsessed with fizzbin for some reason."
Winry put her hands on her hips. "You mean that group of officers you put in our Brig? They were still on the ship when we filled it with paste."
"Hm. Hopefully they're still alive. Either way, everything else relevant is resolved here. Let's leave and not acknowledge that we'll be establishing a Federation presence in this cavern, because the details after the situation never really matter."
The group nods.
"Seifer to Ragnarok. Let's get out there and seek out old life and old civilizations. Let's boldly go where many ancient peoples have abandoned before."
The comm reply from Cetra rang through the air. "Captain, we're all drowning in grey boring paste up here! Don't come up! Don't!"
"Too late. I activated the transport remotely, thus eliminating someone's job," he countered, tapping his commbadge.
Seconds later, the Away Team beamed up and into a mucky, unresolved situation. The U.S.S. Ragnarok drifted aimlessly in space, rotating endlessly for what would likely be all foreseeable time.
Unofficial Literary Challenge #49: Prompt #1: A strange wormhole has been discovered opening into the Alpha Quadrant. Scans show it is artificial in nature and leads past the Delta Quadrant into the mythical "Epsilon Fringe", a small strip of space between the end of the Delta Quadrant and the vast emptiness of Dark Space. A probe sent into the wormhole reveals that there are M class planets on the other side as well as a few warp capable species. Your faction has ordered you to brave this trek to reach the Epsilon Fringe and make first contact with a species. What kind of species does your Captain meet? Are they friend or foe? Is there a large governing body like Starfleet or the Dominion or is it lawless, with every species for themselves? Write a log detailing this event and the journey itself.
Unofficial Literary Challenge #49
"Welcome to the Epsilon Fringe"
The Ar'Kif-class R.R.W. Tetreya was flung, recklessly out of a wormhole and back into normal space upon the far reaches passed the Delta Quadrant. Commander Tressa got back onto her command chair.
"Status report!" the female Romulan called out.
Centurion Lesket, a Romulan male, tapped frantically at his tactical control panel. "Weapons, shields, life support! They're all good!"
"Well, then why are we freaking out like a bunch of n00bs?" Tressa asked. "Anyway, as you all know, the Republic wants to try out this Federation-exploration trend in hopes of becoming more like a people who don't ignore an impending energy-multiplying supernova."
Chupa, a Bolian and the Chef, stepped off the turbolift, carrying a large bowl of ganglia. "Anyone try the Kelpien yet? It's not that bad, actually."
"Ugh! That's not even a thing they did from our universe," argued Centurion Reivf, a Romulan and a female. "But I'll take ten bowls."
Suddenly, Tressa and her Bridge crew found themselves transported onto the surface of an unknown planet.
---
The group was quickly approached by an enthusiastic, tall Kelpien-like alien.
"Greetings. I am Cuva, and we are the Kolpionn. We have just become aware of space-faring species, so as soon as we detected you, we brought you here to meet you," the alien explained.
Sarmin, the ship's Science officer and a Reman, took out his tricorder and scanned the alien. "You are similar to the Kelpiens! Like some sort of offshoot! Also, the name."
"Our ancient myths describe being planted here via distance-traversing vortices, eons ago," Cuva said. "We enter this country every year to engage in The Great Cannibalism: An event in which our underground society, the Kulpiun, goes mad and we eat them before they kill us."
Tressa shook her head. "That sounds terrible. Not to judge your culture or anything, but you're all doing everything wrong, all the time."
"Oh, pish-posh! You'll simply love it! To become one with our brethren is the only way to really live," he explained reassuringly as the distant echo of madly-driven Kulpiun began running straight for the group.
The crew then watched as Cuva ran off and tackled one of the incoming mad-Kulpiuns, feasting right into the creature before both of them disappeared in a shimmering light.
"Commander, there's a force-field preventing our escape, and no indications of any exits anywhere," Lesket said, scanning.
Chupa widened his eyes as he peeked at Lesket's tricorder. "Is eating one of these Kulpiuns the only way out of here??"
"I mean, surely we could map a way off world, or modify the energy-signature of the shielding, or--" Reivf started before the group was surrounded.
Tressa shook her head. "That's what Starfleet would do. I posit we do things the Romulan way! We follow through with our own new version of First Contact procedures, which is to consume these things, like the Kolpionn do."
"But isn't that messed up, yo?" asked Reivf. "Respectfully, of course."
The Commander shook her head. "The Klingons eat people every day. But they won't tell anyone nor celebrate it. We Romulans are different. Sure, we are prim and proper, and will deny all forms of bodily fluids, but we are also game players."
"You don't have to ask me twice," Chupa said as the group watched him tackle one of the surrounding Kulpiuns and sink his teeth into it. Moments later, Chupa and the creature were transported away.
Lesket tapped his chin in thought. "It's not like it's cannibalism if it's another species, right? Humans eat dolphins all the time, I assume, despite the latter having scientifically proven superior intellect." The Romulan tactical officer then ran right into a Kulpiun and ate his way to transported-freedom.
"My Reman brethren ate each other every day," Sarmin said. "It's how we survived the underground mines and kept our population down. Saturdays was Human-clone night."
Tressa and Reivf watched as Sarmin followed suit, tackled a creature, and disappeared.
"I'm having second thoughts about this," Tressa said. "Am I just making speeches to measure up to the Federation and Klingon Captains?"
Reivf turned to her. "You were trying to set us apart from those buffoons, and I applaud you for that. In fact, others in the Republic will applaud you and build statues in your honor. Statues are our thing. It's a huge thing we Romulans do."
"They won't throw up in their mouths a little bit?" Tressa asked.
The other Romulan nodded. "Oh, no, they definitely will. It's going to be at least a week of mental processing for everyone. Prepare to be shamed relentlessly." And then Reivf ran off and tackled a Kulpiun to the ground.
"Alright, let's do this. I did skip breakfast," Tressa said to herself as the last remaining officer. She was then tackled to the ground by a drooling, madly-insane creature. Taking a deep breath, she bit right into its neck, squirting a good ounce of blood before she and it disappeared.
---
Commander Tressa found herself transported into a fancy ball room overlooking the countryside where hordes of Kulpiun and Kolpionn were recklessly engaged with each other.
"The metaphasic properties of the planets in Epsilon Fringe has given our species morphogenic genes," said Cuva as he handed Tressa a glass of champagne.
Lesket picked off a waiter's palette of ganglia appetizers. "It turns out when they bite into each other, the two species merge, or Tuvix if you will, into one being."
"And now it's become a ritual for them," reaffirmed Chupa who scooped a handful of the rest of the ganglia.
Tressa raised an eyebrow. "So, our DNA is now altered?"
"It will last about two days for you," Cuva said. "Your alien genes will likely dominate and push out the Kulpiun. After expulsion, you can then return your Kulpiun counterpart back to us."
The Commander took a sip of her drink. "I am not looking forward to that. But, I must know, have we now succeeded in First Contact procedures?"
"Would I be inviting you back next month for The Great Love Fest if you hadn't?" Cuva raised a glass and winked.
Tressa nodded in understanding. "Now I know why Starfleet is so messed up: All these strange and horrifying cultures easily dilute one's own grasp of reality. Thank you, Cuva, for making me never want to meet new civilizations again."
"As long as I did some good," he replied. "You know, a lot of people actually call this the Epsilon Cringe," he added as the two tapped champagne glasses.
Unofficial Literary Challenge #51: Prompt #1: Earlier in your captain's career there was an enemy faction captain who was her nemesis. Now we're all allies, right? But your next mission requires your captain to partner with the former nemesis. What's worse is the nemesis is given overall command of the mission. What prejudices and raw nerves are exposed? Can either captain overcome years of hate or will the mission fail?
Unofficial Literary Challenge #51
"Joint Mission"
The Ar'Kif-class R.R.W. Tetreya tumbled haphazardly through space until rectifying its momentum. Commander Tressa got up from the floor of the Bridge to her chair.
"Why are we always doing that??" the female Romulan called out.
Hachi, a young, male Romulan, tapped a few buttons at his Helm console before turning around to address her. "Sorry, ma'am. I just get so bored of regulation flight patterns. Let's throw in some danger every now and then. That's all I'm saying."
"You did the right thing," Tressa replied. "A lack of inspiration out here could get us all killed."
Suddenly, the viewscreen clicked on. The Klingon Captain, Menchez, appeared. "A lack of anything will bring about the wrath of the Empire."
"AH!! Oh, it's you. How did you even hear what we were saying, much less appear on communications without our consent?" Tressa posited.
Menchez slammed his fist onto his command chair. "A Klingon does not tell his secrets! Especially when he does not know himself!!" After a brief pause, he matured. "Ah, that feels better. Honestly, we Klingons need one irrational outburst per day, or we explode."
"I would enjoy that, you veruul! Oh, how much you are a veruul. You are just so veruul. Ugh!" Tressa spat.
The Klingon raised an eyebrow. "Um, what? Are you on some kind of Romulan version of ketracel white? Anyway, whence once we were enemies, now we must work together to track ancient, time-displaced, bald, cannibal Klingons who have stolen Romulan Republic tech to assist J'Ula of the long lost dead House Mo'Kai."
"Ah, exposition. How unoriginal, but expected of a Jolan-veruul. You know perfectly well that you and I will not get along during this mission."
Menchez shrugged. "Nah, we'll be okay. One outburst a day is all my old Klingon eight-chambered heart can take."
"We will tear each other's throats apart!"
He scratched his head. "You need to relax more. It's a good day to be mellow."
---
Later, the Tetreya and the Negh'Tev-class I.K.S. Kragoth approached a seemingly strange energy-spewing anomaly in space.
"There appears to be a breathable atmosphere within it." Centuron Lesket examined readings at tactical.
Menchez clicked onscreen. "This is the Republic signature the transport ship Elysium detected. It appears to be more intense up close! The same way an object appears bigger when you near it."
"You are becoming senile in your old age, old man. We shall beam aboard and investigate," Tressa ordered.
The other commanding officer blinked. "Surely, a probe, or our respective-25th-century-versions of 'Red Shirts' would suffic--"
"You know our mission-tracking camera-drones won't record them!"
---
Moments later, Captain Menchez, his first officer RaeLuna, Commander Tressa and her first officer, Reivf, rematerialized into the corridors of what appeared to be a Starfleet ship interior.
"We will slaughter the Romulans and feast on their bones," said the half-alien, half-Human woman.
Captain Menchez shot her a look. "You've been studying the bald Klingons too much, RaeLuna. Modern day Klingons only cannibalize on the weekends."
"If you Dentist-Horror-Stories would use your brains for once, you would deduce this was the work of the Tal Shiar, as is all suspicious activity of our kind," Tressa established.
Reivf nodded. "I agree. The Klingons have terrible teeth."
"Okay, now that you have positioned us in a mission-jeopardizing situation, I am compelled to report that your hostility is painfully inflated," Menchez interjected. "It is true we speak in visceral conflict, but you're supposed to be more passive-aggressive."
RaeLuna tapped her chin. "Or are those Cardassians?"
"Well, they're definitely not us," said the ominous voice of a bald Klingon, stepping around the corner at the end of the hall. He aimed his disruptor at the group. "But I'm sure you already knew that."
Menchez fell onto his back in horrifying disgust. "OH, UGH!! The hair! There's no hair!!"
"There's no anomaly either, is there?" Tressa cut in, turning to face the out-of-time Klingon. "Secret and experimental Tal Shiar holo-technology has been out-fitted to the hull of this Federation starship and is masquerading as a spatial event."
The revamped Klingon smirked. "A lucky guess since, I'm assuming you're Romulan? You look completely low-quality to my era's versions." He stepped forward. "My name's Dova'ch, of the undead House Mo'Kai, and you are aboard the U.S.S. Ragnarok: A ship I will use to empower our cause of honour-killing the Romulan Republic."
"What did we ever do to you?" Reivf asked.
Dova'ch waved the conflict away. "Oh, I just need to prove myself to my cousin J'Ula, and honor the great Kahlessshh!"
"What? That's not how you say it. And why are you quivering in pleasure?" Menchez queried, confused.
Then, the out-of-time Klingon began stepping around pointing at everyone. "I am Klingon! I do what I do because I am Klingonnnn!"
"Now he's wandering around?" Tressa criticized. "We stand still in the 25th century. Calm down."
Then, the out-of-time Klingon began bobbing his head. "Computer, play Demi Lovato, 'Confident'. I feel like dancing." He then pointed at the group. "All 23rd century Klingons dance to Demi Lovato."
"Computer, belay that order!" came the voice of Captain Seifer, a Starfleet officer and Trill, before kicking through a jeffery's tube hatch that then knocked Dova'ch's weapon out of his hand. "Finally. We got the one intruder."
Everyone else immediately trained their weapons on Dova'ch, who reluctantly raised his arms. "Are you serious?" Tressa started. "This one ridiculous Klingon-- if you can call him that-- took over your ship??"
"Oh. No. We crippled ourselves after installing that Tal Shiar tech in an effort to alleviate boredom. This guy just came along out of nowhere and took advantage," Seifer explained. "And do you know how hard it is to find just one guy? This is why I prefer to be invaded by groups."
Menchez walked over and slapped Seifer on the back. "Hahaha! Look at us. Three factions, and we're all getting along swimmingly!"
"No," Tressa defied. "We hate each other and must only work together when there's a common enemy."
Seifer shrugged. "I could work with Menchez on other things. Tribble hunting? Fek'Ihri horde planning? Kobiyashi Maru-ing those painfully annoying Age of Discovery simulations?"
"Oh my Kahless! I haaaaattte those!" Menchez cried out.
Tressa rolled her eyes. "Fine. You two are best friends. But that doesn't negate that one day we'll all hate each other again. It's base nature for people of differing groups, like those half-white/half-black, half-black/half-white guys. I bet when they cut a sandwich in half, they die a little inside."
"Well, if we did, I wouldn't want to be killed by anyone but this guy right here," Seifer said, pulling Menchez in for noogies. "Come here, you perfect Klingon, you! Hahahaha! You're the right kind! Not that guy!"
The Romulan Commander watched, annoyed, as the two bonded in front of her face. "I'm going to have teams extract this tech while you two.... do whatever it is you're doing..."
"You sure you don't want in on this?" Menchez laughed as he put Seifer in a playful headlock. "Hahahaha! We get along so much!"
Tressa grabbed her First officer and stomped out of there. "Reivf, if we ever have to team up with another faction again, I want you to shoot me."
Star Trek Online, Season #19
"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."
Star Trek Online, Season #20
"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'!"