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Literary Challenge #28 : Stranded
pwebranflakes
Member Posts: 7,741
Hello and welcome to another edition of our writers' challenges! :cool:
Today we start the two-week run of the twenty-eighth Literary Challenge: Stranded
This is the writer's thread -- only entries should be made here.
The Discussion Thread can be found HERE.
We also have an Index of previous challenges HERE.
The rules may change from one challenge to another, but I'd like to remind everyone what the base rules are. These may grow as we move on, so also feel free to give feedback!
Today we start the two-week run of the twenty-eighth Literary Challenge: Stranded
Needing some time to yourself, you decide to take one of the shuttles out on a space camp-out for a couple of days. Your ship's current assignment is to chart the Felczer Nebula in the Orellius Sector Block, so they would be able to rendezvous with you as soon as they're done -- it's also important to note that the nebula blocks long-range transmissions while inside it.
A few hours after the last communication with your ship, an incident occurs on the shuttle that leaves you stranded with most systems offline, including Communications.
Write a Captain's Log entry telling us what happened aboard the shuttle and how you made it safely back to your ship.
A few hours after the last communication with your ship, an incident occurs on the shuttle that leaves you stranded with most systems offline, including Communications.
Write a Captain's Log entry telling us what happened aboard the shuttle and how you made it safely back to your ship.
This is the writer's thread -- only entries should be made here.
The Discussion Thread can be found HERE.
We also have an Index of previous challenges HERE.
The rules may change from one challenge to another, but I'd like to remind everyone what the base rules are. These may grow as we move on, so also feel free to give feedback!
- Each Challenge will run for two weeks. For 2 weeks we will sticky the challenge and let you make your entry.
- There are no right or wrong entry.
- The background story, questions I ask, and format requested are only to serve as a platform that you can start your writing from. Feel free to change up the back-story or the way you deliver, as long as the entry stays on topic of the original challenge.
- Write as little or as much as you would like.
- Please keep discussion about the entries in the appropriate Discussion Thread.
- In the Discussion Thread, feel free to write what inspired you and what your thoughts on the topic are.
- A few other important reminders:
- Please heed the rest of the forum's rules when submitting your entry! All of them apply to these posts.
- Each poster can have one entry. Feel free to edit your post to fix typos or add/ remove content as you see fit during the next two weeks.
- After two weeks time, the thread will be locked and unstickied, as we move on to the next challenge.
- We'll have two threads: One to post the entries in and one to discuss the entries. **Cross-linking between these two threads is acceptable for these challenges ONLY!!**
Post edited by pwebranflakes on
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I find myself bored out of my my mind and once again in the dark... at least I'm no longer convinced that there's spiders around me. I ALSO find that I'm pretending to talk to a personal log so that I quit arguing with myself about whether there's spiders all around me.
From guided meditation to banging my knee on that strangely placed console, I've managed to work out that the only system still functioning is life support, as breathing is no problem. I'd try weapons, but the holo interface is still not working, and none of the screens light up. Yes. It's dark. VerAH@#H$TH!#HG% WHAT WAS THAT!??!? *flails*
.... *stays tense for a few moments*
*feels shoulder*
*scratches shoulder*
.... ... . .. . .. .. . . . . . .a-a-aaaa..... and.. this.... is now the THIRD time.... that my hair.. *swallows hard* . . . .. .has convinced me there's a spider on my shoulder.
...I swear, if the crew has locked me in a holodeck and set this up to mess with me, I'm gonna use the self destruct sequence right after I shave my head... *puts it up and holds it there* . ... .. .. *looks around* . ......... . . .... ... *imagines them coming through the door*
....Meh. "You shouldn't go out alone."
But I wanna be alone!
"...but.. stuff can happen when you're alone"
...but I need some time to myself!
"well... you're the boss. Well. You used to be."
*sighs*
Computer, End Log. =/
......I said, COMPUTER, EN.. oh. Right. No power.. *stands up*
*feels the console she was previously leaning against*
*moves toward the back of the ship, inch by inch, trying to match the physical surroundings to the memory in her head*
*gets to the replicator*
Computer... Chateau Picard, 2047 please.
~the sound for something replicating ~
...
...I hate you guys. >=|
The U.S.S. Triton is on a scientific mission to discover the Felczer Nebula. However, I feel it's not logical to send our vessel to map a nebula, this work is more fitting for a deep science vessel, as our vessel is equipped with tactical equipment than sensors and labs for this kind of job. I've decided to leave the ship in the capable hands of my second-in-command, Two of Eight. As a scientist he is more than capable to do this job, but I would like to analize how much 'humanity' he regained since we rescued him from the collective. I've instructed the rest of my commanding officers to take command if a critical situation arises.
I have turned my attention to a nearby system which has an M-class planet in it. It's still uncharted because there is an asteroid belt around the planet which is known to stop ships and leave them stranded. Not much is known of this phenomenon, but some scientist theorize it's not a netural creation, more like an ancient planetary defense mechanism. My engineers modified the U.S.S. Budapest's deflector and installed a minor hull polarization system as I requested. Commander Saziv and Commander Yls and a pair junior officers going to accompany me on this misson.
Captain's Log, supplemental
We have arrived safely to planet Orellius Beta 2H38, or as the scientist named it 'the place of no return'. There is indeed a strange energy in the belt, a tractor field like phenomena surrounds some of the asteroids. Several Federation science vessels were lost near this planet, sadly we couldn't found any of this. According to my calculations the force of the tractor field is so great it could break any ship to pieces, especially if the ship is in the zone of more than one field. Thanks to the shuttle's modifications, we were able to pass the area without diffculty and we are heading for the planet. We will analyze our findings after we returned to the Triton.
Captain's Log, supplemental
The Budapest safely landed on the planet surface and we started to scan the planet. Our surrounding is mostly desert, but not like Vulcan more like Earth's Savannah areas, there is more flora and fauna here. We already registered a few houndred new species and we take a few samples with us, but the shuttle's space is limited. We've also found ruined cities in the vicinity and visited a few. We made thorough scan of the surface and we couldn't find any trace of intelligent life. Cause of extinction unknown. We theorize judging by the state of the ruins that the extinction occured somewhere from five hundred to two thousand years ago. However, the technology found here are match the current technology level of Starfleet, some are even surpass it. Fascinating. We will soon finish categorize our findings and pack up camp and heading back to the ship.
Captain's Log, supplemental
Upon exit of the atmosphere, the shuttle conn station blown up, critically injuring Ensign Darda. I was able to stabilize his condition, but he needs the facilities of the Triton to make a full recovery. Commander Yls will look after her untill we arrive. We also lost most of our power, we got barely enough power to maintain orbit. We've made a thorough scan of the shuttle and found out that the destruction of the conn station cannot cause the power loss. We've also found the shuttle doors warning system has been completly crippled. There is only one logical conclusion. Sabotage.
Captain's Log, supplemental
I have questioned everyone aboard the shuttle but I knew from the start it's unnecessary. Everyone of them are trusterd Starfleet personnel and served with me for years. There is no point in question their loyalty. We haven't got enough information who the saboteur was. Maybe there WAS somebody on the planet surface. We must find out how do we get back to the ship. That's our top priority.
Captain's Log, supplemental
While me and Commander Saziv were discussing our options I heard some noises from outside the ship. Scanners shows nothing, so it's not a ship. Someone or something is outside. 74,3% chance it's a someone. Quite interesting. We did brought EV suits with ourselves in case we have to free the shuttle from the asteriods grasp. But none of them is missing. So the saboteur must have his own suit, but why take the trouble to bring one with himself? My theory is his suit must be a unique one with special capabilities. Also must have means to attach himself to the shuttle. I must think and talk this through with the crew and gather information from the shuttle's computer.
Captain's Log supplemental
I'm sure that our visitor's EV suit is cloaked, there is no other explonation how he could have done this operation without detection. According to our databanks the Tal Shiar were experimenting with personal cloak but as far as we know, they have failed. Maybe they were successful with the bigger power supply of the EV suit? Terrifying idea. Also according to database, there were never been incidents like this or similar in the recent past, so my theory is that we are facing a prototype equipment here. As for the attachment, a simple magnetic clamp and boots would do the job, which is used by any mechanic doing exterior repair work. This leads me to the conclusion that the saboteur entered to the Triton while our visit on Starbase 39 during a diplomatic mission - which wasn't a usual mission profile for the ship also. There is 97.2% chance the Romulans are hunting me for our involvment in the Reman-Romulan civil war.
Captain's Log supplemental
Commander Saziv found the cause of power loss. There is a transmitter inside the power core, which keeps the power level at minimum. My conclusion was right. This operation couldn't have been done while we were on the planet's surface. He or she must have been on the ship since we left Starbase 39. The infiltrator is also a skilled engineer. We are searching for the frequency that disables the transmitter.
Captain's Log supplemental
We've found the frequency, but there is an other problem. The shuttle is gone to proximity alert showing mines in very close to the vessel. The saboteur must be attaching and activating mines on the exterior. So he is not just on any mission, he is on a suicide mission. If we disable the transmitter now he can activate the mines and blow up the shuttle. He also knew we couldn't communicate with the Triton because of the Nebula's interference. Clever. Also he had to do it before we reach the asteroids, or our first action would have been to leave the shuttle and find him/her on the process. The saboteur mustn't be skilled in personal combat. We must find a solution fast. We theorize the timer of the mines set to 4 minutes or less. Judging by the size of the mines we can't escape the blast radius in time on impulse power.
Captain's Log supplemental
We agreed on our plan. We will use the shuttle's computer to activate a series of timed events we've calculated. We have made modifications to the hull polarization device so it will detach the magnetic locks of both the saboteur and the mines. We hope that the surprise effect will give us the few seconds we need. The shuttle is already locked to full impulse power to keep us from falling to the planet. After 4 seconds the computer disengages the hull polarization and the asteroids tractor effect will speed us even further. After an additional 6 seconds we should reach the middle of the asteroid belt where the tractor effect become negative for us. That's when the computer engage the polrization again to be able to pass the belt, but we don't want to give the blast radius any chance.
Coordinates of the Triton's theoretical position already locked in and will automaticly engage after we left the belt, set to 3 seconds. 80% power rerouted to engines, 20% set to auxiliary for the polarization. We don't have much time. Activating the computer sequence in 10...
Captain's Log Stardate 83755.49
Our plan worked perfectly. We have arrived to the Felczer Nebula and the saboteur is dead, blow up by his own devices. We have the Triton on the viewscreen, and we are heading for the shuttle bay. We have completed an important scientific discovery, and found a clear evidence that the ship is being watched and wanted dead by an unknown enemy. Ensign Darda will make a full recovery in a few days.
He Secured his Dislocated arm in a makeshift sling, just enough to relieve some of the pain, then he used a Hypo-spray to inject Hydrocortilene and then take a Numanol capsule. "That should hold me for a while why I figure out what my situation is." Robert started the Standard Systems Check to determine the reason for his sudden planetfall. Pulling the Front Panel-Plate from the Control surfaces allowed easy access to the circuits and their connections. Holding a Flashlight in his mouth while he worked with his Left hand to search around, he found nothing that would have caused the sudden loss of control of the small craft.
"This ol' girl has had her last flight. Far too much damage to attempt repairs on my own, even if I had Two hands, Arms to do the work. I shall put you to rest Galileo Seven." As Robert Pulled the Battery packs and let them drop to the ground with a solid thud. "It's time for me to start taking recordings of my time here." Robert pulled out a PADD from a wall compartment and activated it. "Stardate. Eleven, Fourty-Seven, Fourteen point Eight, One Three. Captain Klein. I find myself almost as damaged as the Small utility craft, but I am not going to put myself out of comission as I did her. I am without communication or Transportation. It is currently dark and cold. I still have my Personal gear for outdoor survival."
Robert Awoke then looked outside a side port into a sunny, Black, and forbidding scenery. He repacked his gear and slipped the rucksack over his good shoulder before pulling the manual release to the access, which made a 'wihshing' noise before it was pushed out of the way. "Good as time as any to get going. Stardate, Supplimental. I am making my way to find a place to set up for a couple of nights, or until my time of Rescue. My ship the 'Badger' is enroute to the Orellius Sector Block for Charting of the Felczer Nebula and should pass by in less than a week. For now...I guess that I have to do what I can. So I will Map this Planet. Well, Mass of Rubble."
It was a few hours before Robert took a break. He found a high spot to get an overall look of the area. "Stardate, Supplimental. I am looking South, and I can see a Sparse Green Area, and according to the Field Glasses, it is Nineteen-Thousand Meters away. I will rest for Half an hour before beginning." Robert's arm needed a rest and he needed to numb the pain once again. After self administering the medicines he started off again, this time with a purpose and hope to be in a place that was several degrees cooler and softer to lay on.
Walking at 4.75 km/h he was only able to make it in a little more than four hours. It was considerably cooler and more comfortable than where he had started out from. It did not take him long at all to set up a campsite and to become comfortable. Suddenly a Large Bird (Hlai-Romulan Bird) came running at full speed through Robert's camp, destroying all in it's path and upending Robert. "Damn!" was all that he could get out before landing on his injured arm. The pain sent him writhing. It had been so intense that he found himself waking in the chill of the Night.
After injecting another Dose and ingesting the pill he struggled to start a fire. Finally resorting to using his phaser to get the fire immediately started. He was tired due to the pain more than anything else. It had become very difficult to move around and seemed to take forever to get himself into the shelter of his tent. A light rain aided in his sleep and all too soon the light of the sun was shining through the side of his tent. He made his way out to the warmth of the Sun.
Upon standing and after a good stretch he witnessed the destruction that the Large Bird had created so swiftly. Sitting on a nearby rock he decided to start the day off with some Field-Rations. Soon he realized that the 'Rock' was shifting. He soon realized that upon his arrival there was no rocks protruding from the Green and Grassy area. Robert was suddenly alarmed because now he understood that he was sitting on a large animal (Veruul) of some form. Looking around he discovered the thing to be about 5 meters in length and to have scaled skin and webbed claws.
Robert watched as the Beasts Head turned towards him slowly. It was definately a Dangerous Animal and with the evidence of Feathers strewn about, it just fed. This Robert hoped would mean that it would be slow now. He slowly lifted one leg at a time to the other side of the beast, and then stood slowly. Making his way to what he thought would be a safe range from the percieved dangerous part, the Gaping Jaws. As soon as he though he was safe, the Beast made a sudden movement, switching it's posture in Robert's Direction. Unfortunately, that meant the Tail as well.
Robert Struggled to right himself before the Beast's Head became too close. He then backed off a meter more to allow room to run if the need arose. The Beast soon turned, and as if was in no hurry, Lumbered towards an opening between two boulders. Robert grew interrested where the beast was going, and for that matter. where the Large Bird came from. So he Followed. Upon breaching the opening he was amazed at the sights. It was a Large an Luscious landscape with a river and a small lake, where he witnessed the beast slip into.
When he regained himself from the amazement he started to hear murmur's in the distance. It was a Conversation, but definately not Human, English or any Common tounge. It was Familiar though. Was there other's here as well? Stranded as he was? He activated his PADD and physically imputed his situation. 'Stardate, Supplimental: Have found a Lake, River and a place of extreem beauty, but also hearing a conversation in a language other than common. I am going to Investigate, leaving my items here in the case they might be hostile.' He soon crept over to where the conversation was taking place, keeping in mind of the Beast that just slipped into the Lake.
He soon discovered several Individuals using instruments, but they were still too far to see by eyes, but one thing that was painfull obvious was a small craft, and it was in shades of Green. The Form of the Small craft was all too familiar. It was Romulan. He soon took out his Field Glasses to get a better assesment of his situation. Whispering to himself, he counted...'Two, Four, Five...Where is the Sixth?' Suddenly a Rock breaks loose from above him. He had his answer. Before him was a Romulan looking down upon him.
The Romulan started down in his direction. Robert quickly started back to his camp, where he left his weapon due to his curiosity. Soon, his pain slowed him, allowing the Romulan to catch up. Robert knew he was now a Prisoner to the Romulans. Struggling only made his Pain grow, and now he was unable to get the Medications to help alievate any further pain. He was already too tired to fight and as the Romulan officer walked behind him, guiding him to the small craft. Soon, the rest of the Romulans gathered and started discussing about Robert.
"Great, No Universal Translator. What are they discussing?" Robert would soon have his answer. Two of the Romulans went into the craft and soon returned with a large light-green box with two handles. "Now what? Are they going to Torture me here? Now?" Another Romulan approached. He seemed different, but still Romulan. "I am Robert Fredrick Klein. Captain. Starfleet. Serial Number Five-Sixty-One-Thirteen-Four-Four-Seven." This had no effect in the Behavior of the Romulans. Soon the Case was opened, but the lid was in Robert's Direction and he did not know if it was a Disruptor Rifle or some Romulan Torturing Devices.
The Romulan soon pulled a device from the crate and scanned him. After some evaluation and some discussion, another set of tools were extracted from the crate. "Here we go. Torture time. Right Fellas?" The Romulan started at Robert with something similar to a Spray-Hypo. "You are not going to inject me with any truth syrum!" Robert started to Struggle, only for Two others, who Remained looking very seriouse through the whole event to come over and restrain him. Robert's Arm once again reminded him of his injuries. Soon the Injection was made, and before too long, the Pain had left. 'What are they doing? Are they trying to make me forget this pain before giving me more?' Soon Robert was feeling relaxed, and very sleepy. "What are you doi...." Soon he was sleeping.
Upon opening his eyes, he Witnessed two Romulans standing over him. The pain in his Dislocated Shoulder was gone, and he felt as though he could move it, but as soon as he tried the Romulan that Administered the Drugs earlier placed his hand on Robert's Shoulder. "Slow down. You will tear the Seutures. I had to Physically go in and repair the Damage because it was so bad."
"Who are you?" Robert enquired.
"I am Doctor E'Lue'a." Was his response.
"You helped me? Why?"
"We are not here on any important mission. There was no need for aggression on our behalf."
"Doctor Lua..." Robert had Difficulties speaking the Romulan Names. "...Then what are you doing here?"
"Tending to the Fauna here. It's a Private little get away, A Zoo. We have to come in to ensure that everything is in order, and you are not a part of this. We have to get you out of here."
"My Shuttle is a wreck. I cannot go anywhere."
The Romulan, E'Lue'a pointed in the direction of the Romulan shuttle, and Robert looked over to see his Shuttle sitting beside it. "How did you get it to operate again?"
"From my understanding, it was easy. There had to be a few adjustments made so your craft could opperate within the properties of this system, mainly this planet. The Technical team is almost done with all of the repairs. After which, you need to leave."
"What of my things?"
"We have collected everything and returned it to your Shuttle." E'Lue'a looked once again at Robert, then his Shuttle. "Seems everything is ready and your Shuttle ready for Departure. We used your Medical Equipment to repair your Shoulder, and your tools to Repair your Shuttle, so it will look as though you have made the repairs yourself. Can I ask why you were here?"
"I was taking a Vacation. Some Personal time to Relax."
"A Great choice, but you cannot come here ever again. Can you guarantee me this?"
"After what you have done to help me, I can Honestly tell you that I will not tell another living soul about this place. But how do I describe my Vacation?"
"Relaxing." was all that E'Lue'a had to offer.
Soon, Robert was off planet and heading for the Rendevous point. He hailed the BADGER and received a welcoming voice of Lieutenant Snnazerrstash, A Kzinti Communications officer. "Well Rrrroberrr, Back sooo sooon?"
"Hello Tasha. I need Doctor Colinger ready to look over my Injuries."
"I will alerrrt him. Did you encounterrr a wild animal?"
"Yes. But that's not how I received the Injuries. I will need to be Tractored in. The Shuttle took some serious Damage as well."
"I will alerrrt Lieutenant Jay-Gee Burtle."
Suddenly the voice changed. "Captain Klein. This is Admiral Earheart. I want a full report of why one of my favorite shuttles was damaged! An what happened to you as well."
"Yes Admiral. I will log it on my PADD for your review."
The PADD...Robert scrambled to find it. Nothing. He rifled through his Equipment, and his Ruck-Sack. Nothing. So he decided to Call it. Nothing.
Meanwhile, on a Small rock in space, a Chirping was signaling it's location.
"Now I have to Explain why I had lost Starfleet Equipment as well."
The Shuttle was placed gently on the deck and Robert exited, dragging his Equipment. The Shuttle bay crew were hustling around and Robert witnessed the 'Red-Alert' lights blinking. He threw his things on an Anti-Grav cart and hustled to his assigned station on the Bridge.
"Mr. Klein. You are Dismissed from this Exercise. Go get that Injury looked at and put your things away." Came from Commander Freelan.
Only a Drill. Robert was relieved, but not for long. "Captain Klein. I am awaiting for the Reports." Came over the Comm.
Robert switched on the panel. "I am finishing it right now Admiral."
"Just get in my Office in Fifteen minutes. We will take it then."
"Fifteen Minutes. Yes Admiral!"
Robert refreshed himself and then made his way to the Admiral's Office.
"Captain Robert Kle..."
"Get in here Captain!"
Robert abliged. "Sir, I have seemed to misplace my PADD. It had my Information on it."
"Please, Sit."
Again, Robert Complied.
"I have already looked ove rthe Damage Report compiled by the Shuttle Bay crew, and I have to say that it was quite extensive. Extensive enough for you to pull the Power Packs."
"Yes Admiral."
"But Alone, you were able to correct the Damage and return it to flight capabilities."
"Uh...Yes Admiral."
"That was quite a task, Had to take up the entire time you were there."
"Yes, It did Admiral."
"So you are telling me that you are Soley responsible for the Repairs to the Shuttle?"
"Yes Admiral. There was no-one els..."
"Now. About your personal Injuries. What a feat i must say. Even sealing the Injuries after the self administered Surgery. I have never seen such work by a self-taught medical professional."
Robert knew this was going to be tricky. How could be explain this? To repair a Shuttle was a possibility within Four Days, but to perform a surgery as well. Not possible. "I did what I had to Sir. There was no-one else to help me." Could this pass? Would she accept this?
"The Medical case suggests that you did all of that, and the Scans from the Shuttle-Bay of the Shuttle say that onlt Starfleet equipment was used for the repairs. I want you to go to the Medical Bay and get checked out. From there I will tell you if I believe your story. You are Dismissed."
Robert left Nervously. He knew the possibilities of being discharged for lying to a superior officer loomed near. 'She knows. I know she knows.' He thought to himself.
"So Mister Klein. You seem to be in good Health regardless of the Injury. I am Impressed with the work. Maybe I should pull you from Captaining this ship and have you work with me. I can always use another set of good hands."
"Thanks Doc, but I have a greater love for Command and want to remain there."
"Well, you seem fit for duty. Just take it lightly on that shoulder. I will send a Report to all departments to Advise them of your work requirements until the next check-up."
"Oh-Kay Doc."
"I have a message from the Admiral here. You are to return immediately to her Office with this PADD of your Medical evaluation."
Robert felt the Dread come over him upon accepting the PADD.
Robert was immediately allowed into the Admiral's Office, where once again he was asked to be seated. The Admiral looked over the Medical report then sat the PADD on her Desk. "Seems that you are Multi-Talented Captain."
"Sir?"
"Your level of Expertise in knowing what exactly to do to repair your Badly Dislocated Shoulder is Amazing. Is there anything that you wish to tell me?"
"Sir...No. Nothing."
"Are you sure? This is your last chance."
"Nothing Admiral." Those words hurt more than his Shoulder ever did.
Suddenly a Different PADD slid across the Admiral's Desk. Robert quickly realized who's it was after a quick glance. "Are you sure Captain?"
"Admiral...I can Explai..."
"You need to check the Navigational Charts for 'Areas that are Off-Limits' to the Federation before going on any Solo trips ever again. You could have been held as a Spy against the Romulan Government. It's a good thing that you only met with the landing party and not the Captain."
"I promised them that I would not say anything about them since they had helped me."
"Did they help you? Or did they use you as a way to track our position?" At that point the Admiral placed a Twenty Millimeter, Dark Grey Cube on the desk that was pulsing green. She then stood and drew her Phaser and shot it.
Robert knew that he was in Trouble for misleading the Admiral. "Sir. Admiral. I am Sorry for Misleading you. It will never happen again."
"I know it won't. You are here by to be removed from Service..."
"But Admiral!"
"...For One day in the Brig and the Following as House Arrest where you will be in charge of yourself and allowed to only leave for Meals and when summoned. And also for any Red-Alert Status. Understood?"
"Yes Admiral."
"I gave you the Second one for interrupting me. You are Dismissed!"
Robert stood and was surprised when Two Guards cam in to Escort him to the Cell where he was to stay a night.
(Meanwhile back in Admiral Earheart's Office) "Thank-You Commander E'Lue'a."
"That should keep him from trespassing into this area again."
"I sure as hell hope so. Thank-You for sending his PADD back and the Prop. He bought it fully."
"How are the projects going to keep an eye on the Dominion?"
"With your Project on course, Very well. Get that Relay on-line and we can start seeing far into their area of space to get an better estimate on their strengths."
"And what of the Breen?"
"They are once again concealing themselves from everyone and we predict that they will be that way for some time."
"That's good to know Admiral. E'Lue'a, out." The Comm link went dark once again.
"GAH! I do so loathe nebulae" I growled to myself, absentmindedly punching the bulkhead.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!" I howled, my knuckles starting to feel numb from an adrenaline surge.
There was a knock at the door, it was Zazhid."You ok, Amuro?"
"Aye... aye. It's just these damned nebulae studying assignments, they grind my gears" I growled, clearly agitated.
"Y'know, there's a quiet little spot on an uninhabited planet not too far off course, we could take a shuttle for a little rendez-vous" Zazhid smiled, stroking my arm a little.
"Can't." I said, shaking my head, "Shuttle won't be delivered til Tuesday. Cagalli had some trouble getting the variable geometry to work in the confines of our vertical hatch." I said, slightly ruining the moment.
"We could take the twins..." Zazhid said slyly, with a glint in her eyes.
How could I say no to those deep, ocean blue eyes...
I caved; "Computer! record message to be sent in 5 minutes to Commander Jelun and tight beamcast to Ra Cailum." I called out.
"RECORDING" buzzed the metallic tones of the computer interface.
"Have taken Alt and Weiss for side trip, Char is to take Pegasus order 69. See you in 3 days. End recording." I spoke to thin air.
"Message encoded, sending in 4 minutes 55 seconds." The computer interface chirped back at me."
"C'mon!" I said, holding Zazhid's hand tightly as I moved with a fervor I hadn't experience in months.
A brief time later, while descending to the surface of the planet...
"GAH! EMP!" I cried out as the Alt lost all power. "This is gonna hurt..."
The atmosphere echoed with the thunderous boom of both machines crashing onto the surface at over 100 miles an hour.
I placed my hand to my head, and felt the warm oozing of blood from just above my temporal lobe, "Aww cra..."
I blacked out...
Amazingly I wasn't dead, as I awoke, I looked around and saw it was dark, and a svelte figure looked over, came limping towards me...
How could I have been so blind! It was Zazhid!
"Amuro!" She blurted out from behind a wall of tears "you're awake." She let out a beaming smile, which brought me to full alert.
"How long..." I began to speak, but Zazhid interrupted me.
"Hours more than me, as far as I can tell. We're pretty stuck here though. Thrusters on both Alt and Weiss are offline, along with just about all the other useful systems. Good news is the beacon on Alt is still working, but at half range, and we still have replicator function for the moment."
"Ah well, guess we'll be here a little longer than intended. Now, where were we..." I said, taking hold of Zazhid and pulling her close
"Oh, Amuro..." Zazhid said, coyly...
WHOA! Let's leave these two lovebirds to it, k? Gotta give them some privacy
[SIGPIC][/SIGPIC]
Cor, it's nice 'ere. No bleedin' idea where we are, though, but at least it's 'abitable. Reminds me o'th' beaches back 'ome in South Wales.
I didn't think I'd ever enjoy peace an' quiet - usually, I'm na' 'appy 'less I'm up t'me elbows in engine grease. Not that engines use grease any more. Bloody modern technology.
So, I should d'scribe wha' 'appened. Ensign Bowker... Tha's wha' 'appened. How that man ever got out o' th' Academy alive is beyond me, 'cos 'e isna' worth th' energy rations 'is uniform. Nice lad, but 'e's got bad luck an' less sense than God gave a turnip.
Let me tell you abou' Ensign Marcell Bowker. 'E's new to th' ship, assigned just last fortnight. He was impressed, intimidated, an' awed by the Paragon's reputation as a home for mav'ricks, ne'er-do-wells, an' nutters who manage t'pull victory from th' saucy seductive bosom o'defeat time an' again.
So, ye might say tha' when 'e got th' rotation t'chauffeur me on my wee 'oliday, 'e was a bit beside 'imself. So much so tha' 'e forgot t' pack th' provisions for me campin' trip, an' then when I told 'im 'e 'ad t'fix 'is error, he went at it bald-headed an' hailed a passin' snake of a fishwife's whor--- *ahem* --a passin' merchant vessel takin' foodstuffs an' survival gear for sale someplace or'nother. That's all well an' good, but 'e traded a couple o'spare EPS reg'lators for it, an' wouldn't y'just know it, ran us smack-dab in'ta an ion storm, fried ev'ry last reg'lator on th' runabout.
I managed t'keep th'engines goin' long enough for us t'crashland on this lovely stretch o'beach. No serious damage, she's nigh-spaceworthy, but wi'out th' parts there's na' a peep outta any o' th' main power systems. Auxiliary's still go, but tha's na' near enough t' put us back in'ta' orbit t'say less o'goin' t'warp before I'm grey an' saggy.
Let me say, once again, tha's there's na' any challenge an engineer can overcome if she 'as two workin' 'ands an' a will t'fix what's broken. I managed t'salvage parts enough to cobble together a few items: Phaser charger, space heater, th' ship's loo, an' get 'alf of comms back online. I canna' call anyone, but at least I c'n listen t'football.
I was also able t'take one of th' warp coils an' make it into a still, so tha' should give me all th' comforts of home.
I'd better put this away now, I think I hear Ensign Cabana Boy returnin' wi' th' materials t'build a proper shelter. There's also no challenge an engineer canna overcome if she's watched old "Gilligan's Island" reruns from th' Twentieth. I just wish I could make power reg'lators out o' coconuts.
The shuttlecraft Oboe and runabout Affirm, both on separate detachments from the U.S.S. Unyielding in the Felczer Nebula, have both been hit by a high-energy surge from one of the asteroids in System Rho-Zeta-2547, after which emergency power was also drained.
The crews of each vessel have had to resort to eating field rations dry, as there is no running water, however, we of the Affirm DID manage to deploy a distress beacon before complete power failure. As all power, including emergency lighting, has failed, we will only be detected by the Unyielding if they scan for life-signs, which will only happen if they are expecting all power to have failed.
Executive Officer's Log, Stardate: today:
The Unyielding has initiated Saucer Separation in order to conduct short-range reconnaissance missions deep in the nebula, and we have managed to absorb some of the energy by channeling it into reserve deuterium fuel tanks, and the rest into the shields, making us more able to withstand the damage that the Affirm and Oboe are supposed to have taken, if they survived.
Executive Officer's Log, Supplemental:
We have detected life-signs aboard the runaboutOboe, and all have beamed to sickbay for emergency treatment for dehydration and undernourishment. However, the configuration of the Affirm has been detected at the very edge of our sensor range, the Chief Engineer has estimated that we will reach it's location in approximately 6 hours at full impulse.
Captain's Log, Supplemental:
A vessel matching the configuration of the Unyielding has been spotted 20 kilometers from our current position, however the helmsman and engineer have fallen ill, and their condition is deteriorating fast. our emergency transmitter was knocked out, but I have managed to patch it up and get it online, just in time to receive a transmission from the Unyielding, saying that they are ready to beam us directly to sickbay for emergency treatment. After almost 4 days, we have been found. True to her name, the Unyielding and her crew never gave up.
Captain George Aubrey, signing off.
Having returned safely to the Endeavour, I can properly detail the events of the last twenty four hours, while I await Commander VanDoren's report on what caused the systems outage aboard the Equinox. Having built most of the Delta-Class shuttle myself, I know every bolt and every weld, and want to know how and why it was disabled, so I can prevent it from happening again. I had been in flight from the conference for a little over twelve hours when there was what I can only describe as an intense brightness outside the shuttle. At first, I thought I'd come under attack, but it was a single one-off burst. Possibly a pulsar, so fortunate that the shields were raised. Almost all primary systems failed, leaving only emergency life-support online, I was just fortunate that there were some spare parts in emergency storage. In a way, I was glad to have been by myself. I didn't have to give orders, or tell anyone what to do. I simply decided on a plan, and made it happen. I know they say the more the merrier, but in this case, I welcomed the solitude and the opportunity to utilize my survival skills. It was clear that whatever the phenomenon was which had caused the systems outages, it had fried the gel packs of the main computer core. Fortunately, I had brought a dozen PADDs with me to the conference, and I networked them together to form an auxiliary computer core. Time consuming, and fiddly work, re-configuring each of the PADDs STAs into a collective unit, but, when I linked the network to the shuttle's systems, it worked, and I was able to discover that both warp and impulse were offline. With limited resources, I considered it illogical and inefficient to try and effect repairs to them. I chose instead, to repair the forward tractor beam emitters. This meant donning an EVA suit to perform the component swap over, but needs must... Once this was done, I launched the shuttle's escape pods on drift mode, before snaring them with tractor beams. I networked my tricorder into the pods on board systems, using them to provider my navigational references and propulsion. To ensure maximum strength for the tractor beams, I remained in my EVA suit and diverted all power from life-support and internal gravity to the tractor beams. It must have looked quite amusing to any observers, witnessing a shuttle being pulled along by two coffin-like escape pods. I imagine it looked somewhat like the pod-racers on Malastare, but it got the job done... I wonder how Admiral Paris would grade my work this time... My plan to use the pods as external engines worked efficiently, although using the tricorder interface to control the two pods was something of a challenge. When I reached the Endeavour, I used my suits comms system to appraise them of my situation, and the main shuttle bay was cleared for an emergency landing... I was glad that my flight instructor, Commander Avon, wasn't present to witness the landing, as to say it was messy would be polite, but I was, as the Commander always said, "Down and safe..."
Stardate 83779.82, my birthday.
I hope to avoid my senior officers the entire day, lest they throw another large celebration in the mess hall. It took a month to refurbish 7th Heaven after Commander Taylor's birthday party, and Lieutenant Orlos and Chief S'rria still aren't allowed back in by Miss Mazan. Once the Felczer Nebula mission is over, we can have a lesser celebration on Defera proper.
The Lord English is being tasked to explore the Felczer Nebula on behalf of the Deferi government. I decided that it would be a good opportunity for Commander Taylor to gain command experience and relinquished the bridge to her. My original plan was to return to Defera and assist in their Borg suppression campaign, but I have just picked up an emergency signal from a Deferi patrol and am changing course to investigate the matter.
Admiral's Log: Supplemental. 1607 Defera Time.
In retrospect, I should have been more careful in responding to emergencies without examining the situation, as the emergency the Deferi patrol required help with was a Breen raiding party. The last thing I remember was being caught in a Breen energy dissipator before a doomed Deferi Cruiser rammed the Breen flagship, causing a tremendous explosion which had apparently knocked me out. When I came to, it seemed as if only the sturdiness of the Becquerel's frame had kept me alive, and that I was the only survivor of the skirmish. I seem to be stuck within a dark matter nebula. Will continue to investigate after a preliminary diagnostic.
1610D
After a preliminary diagnostic, I have ascertained the Bec's status. Power systems across the board are at 0. Emergency batteries are stable, but will only last for around 8 hours. I can't raise Lord English on comms, but I can send a message on Starfleet encrypted frequencies. I just hope it'll reach the right people in time. That should get the message across without attracting attention from the Klingons or the Breen. Now to play the waiting game.
1640D
The waiting game sucks! I have decided to see what I can do to pass the time.
None of the computer systems on the Bec are functional, so that's out of the question. I'm draining the batteries on the PADDs to extend life support. It should add 30 or so minutes to its functionality, but I guess three minutes is a small sacrifice to pay to stay awake long enough to return a message. I guess I can write that fan fiction for Federation Novel Writing Month that I keep putting off.
1700D
Curse the non-functionality of the computers! I was unable to look up a reference to another story to add to mine, and so I put off writing the novel again. I should look into the dry provisions on board the Bec.
1705D
Finally able to break into the dry provisions store. The Breen attack had caused some surges in the EPS conduits to fuse the panels together, but I was able to pry it open with my karambit. There's only a box with a note on it though. The emergency ration packs are missing. The only things in the box are a can of TaB and a bag of Licorice Scotty Dog candies. Dammit, Drevis.
...
Wait, there's some more to this note. Pumpkin? What pumpkin? There's only a can of TaB and candy.
...
...
DAMMIT, DREVIS.
1812D
I have used up two hours of life support and still no Federation ships have responded to my message. The only chance for my message to get through now is if it reaches Defera. I have kept one of the Licorice Scotty Dogs to keep me company. Counselor Scotty has suggested that we keep our minds active using brain-training games, but Ensign TaB is in bad shape. He has been exsanguinating for the past hour and I don't think he'll stay alive long enough for rescue. *sip*
1847D
Despite the best efforts of Counselor Scotty, Ensign TaB has passed away due to fluid loss. Although his career in Starfleet was short, he never lost his bubbly personality or his rose-colored outlook on life. I had planned to keep his body to return to his family once we were rescued, but I just thought of an idea.
1914D
After half an hour of tinkering, I was able to make a makeshift subspace antenna from Ensign TaB and parts of the Bec's sensor probe system. It should allow me to receive subspace communications on my PADD. However, I should run a low-powered application in order to conserve battery life.
TRIBBLE. It's HER. Frakking Orion lieutenant generals. Always making trouble for me.
2114D
Well, whatever is preventing Starfleet from finding me is also preventing the Klingons from finding me. I guess it's time for some end-of-life decision-making. Can't let ol' Bec fall into Breen hands. I'll transfer this log to Bec's black box and shoot it in Defera's direction, and then blow the warp core with plasma grenades. Whatever isn't annihilated will probably be fried by the tetryon-plasma cloud. I think I'll start the process when life support's down to 1 hour.
2345D
It took much longer than I had hoped, but I finally was able to stuff all my plasma grenades in Bec's engine. Now to transfer the log into the the black box and launch it into the
Oh cra- *fwoosh*
Admiral's Log: 83781.51
It turned out that my premature launch of the black box saved me 15 minutes from death, as its exit from the dark matter nebula caused it to intercept the Lord English as it was scanning the vicinity. And by intercept, I mean it accidentally left a hole in one of the shuttles coming to rescue me. Chief Medical Officer Four of Thirteen assures me that Lieutenants Raastz and Sur will survive their bout with vacuum exposure and will be ready for duty in twenty hours.
As for me, the doctor has cleared me for duty and has prescribed for me a shot of Tranya to be redeemed at 7th Heaven. Although his Borg implants prevent him from showing overt signs of emotions, it is apparent by subtleties in his body language and Lieutenants Raastz and Sur's soft snickering that there's something much more than tranya waiting for me in the mess hall. Oh well.
End Admiral's log.
Literary Challenges Entries- Star Trek Online: Lord English
Dramatis Personae of Star Trek Online: Lord English
I figured charting this nebula would be a nice escape from the daily drab paperwork of my job. True to life as it is, this assignment has been an escape. Something happened, some debris or something hit the shuttle and now I'm stuck out here. I mean, I've got life support working, the food replicator is still functioning, and I've got the mater/anti-mater chamber going, but I cant get a stable warp field to form. Top that off, my impulse engine intakes are clogged, so, until I can get into open space, I'm on thrusters.
I wanted an escape, I got it. At least two weeks till I am in open space. Plenty of time to read. You know, I thought having been assimilated by the Borg was bad. I hated voices, and crowds. They just... they bothered me, all the voices... all the noise. However, I suspect, in a few days I will sorely miss voices. I will be happy to be back on Deep Space Nine, having a drink with Shull in Quarks.
Despite my best effort, I will never be the Engineer Roger Teradid is. Despite all my work, I can't for the life of me figure out how to get the intakes clear or how to get a stable warp field to form. It does bother me. I mean, I can figure out how to maneuver a Sovereign class star ship between a cube and a planet with only inches to the atmosphere. I can figure out how many torpedoes it will take to destroy the shields on a Klingon Neigh'Var class battle ship, but I cant figure out how to get moving faster than thrusters.
If Shull were here he'd likely tell me to relax and use the time wisely, to better my self. That is excellent advice, but its hard to relax when you have to limp home and report the job not done due to 'engine failure of an unknown origin'. That looks good on a report. Can't wait to see Admiral Quinns response to that. He'll have my back side tanned for sure for that. I'll be stuck behind my desk forever after this ordeal. Life's not looking so rosy today.
Log End.
I'd never been camping before. Up until two weeks ago I'd never even heard of it. Captain Donovan was a little surprised by this but from what I hear it's a pretty common thing among humans. From the best estimate Dr.E'Saul can figure I'm about six years old so the Captain said it was "passed due". Every one knew that wasn't exactly true though. A day earlier there had been a fight in the mess hall involving Me, Commander Keating, and Lieutenant Morden. They'd been eating lunch and talking "guy talk" as Keating put it when they'd said a few things that didn't sit well with me.
Lieutenant Morden was a new addition to the crew so the Commander was filling him in on certain things around the ship until they came to me. It's no secret that the Commander didn't really seem to like me. I've heard him calling me an "augie" every now and then, he forgets Vulcans have great hearing. I've learned to ignore it because he still treats me as crew, but it wasn't until they began talking about crew when Morden said something rude about Chief Fine being a former Borg. It was about that time the Commander turned and saw the face I was making.
I didn't think so at the time but thinking back on it the look on his face was priceless. Needless to say that they both learned that pulling rank on an "augie" doesn't work since I'm not "officially" Starfleet. Captain Donovan thought it would be fitting punishment to leave us planet side for a week or so while they escorted a science vessel charting the Felczer Nebula and with that we were off in a Delta Class Shuttle. We'd be completely cut off from the ship for the entire time they were in the nebula.
About ten hours into a long and quiet trip when suddenly we were hit. Several consoles exploded hitting the Commander and I. When I came to, the Commander was bleeding pretty bad. I put out the fires and dragged him back to the living area to treat the wounds as best I could, field dressings at best. The only thing i could really do was put him into full stasis and hope Morden could help. Regrettably that would be hard to do as he'd been in the rear of the ship and was hit hardest by the blast. I felt almost sickly over our first meeting and sorry that I would never be able to apologize.
I was dumbstruck for a few moments when I realized that he'd been in back adjusting a few environmental systems when they exploded as well. It took me the better part of a day to get the system as functional as I could, but I'm only an assistant in engineering, so I couldn't do much. Most of the power I had to route to the stasis pod to keep the Commander alive, atmospheric controls were barely registering so it's possible that I would either freeze to death, or suffocate, but being what I am I suppose it was luckier for Commander Keating to be in stasis. I would be able to last much longer than he would although according to the computer it would still be cutting it close.
For the most part it was quite since most power was needed for the pod so that meant no entertainment, no audio or video, most of the screens had blown along with a few conduits which meant i couldn't read either. I left the computer on silent which meant no other voice but my own. It took a while for people aboard the ship to get used to me, so it's not like I couldn't handle the quiet. It was the boredom that was bugging me the most. Since I had minimal air I couldn't do too much physical activity so I did what I could to keep things running as well as see what else could be repaired.
Comms were shot as well as sensor and propulsion so it meant that I was going no where. The only replicator on board was gone as well although I doubt there would be enough power to run it. The shuttle's emergency rations were awful so I didn't eat much and sleep wasn't happening so creativity was called for. What I didn't eat I used to draw on the pod. Each meal I would do something different and take pictures using the holoimager T'Pal let me borrow for the trip to take photos of plant life. With mashed potatoes I gave Commander Keating white hair and a beard like some of the older crew members, an weird brownish paste of something called "meatloaf" made him a Klingon, it made him smell a little like one as well....
At about day five as far as I could tell, a weakened bulk head blew taking most of what little air I had before the area sealed itself. At this point the cold was starting to get to me and it would only be getting worse. I'd keep watch on the stasis pod as best I could but even wrapped in the thermal blankets I'd find that I was having a hard time staying awake. I'd drift here and there, once waking myself with a bad shock while taking power from any other systems I could spare. This meant taking the computers fully offline as well as lights and even shields.
At some point I'd given up on trying to count how much time had passed. I could go for a few weeks with out sleep but the cold was making it happen which meant I wouldn't last much longer. I decided to route the rest of the life support and available power to keeping that pod running. As far as I could figure, the Commander was a good man and far more valuable to the Geist than I was. Dr. E'Saul would be say I made a very "logical" decision, which made sense but I figure I would get one last laugh of him. Once we're found I might be long gone, but they'll hopefully find Commander Keating in tube with a food paste bikini on the glass. I took a photo then went and shut down the rest of the shuttle before finally passing out.
When I woke up in sick bay I was surrounded by the senior staff, kind of like when they first found me. According to Dr. E'Saul I'd been dead for over an hour when they found me. Apparently I'd scared poor nurse Pruz when my body suddenly gasped for air. Sometimes being different from every one else on board has it's advantages. The Commander was fresh out of surgery and sleeping but would be just fine. After telling the story Dr. E'Saul and Captain Donovan had me sit down and do a few personal logs as well as a session or two of counseling just to make sure I was okay. Scans of the shuttle showed that it had been hit by an old cloaked mine from some long forgotten war, a complete freak accident. I regret that I couldn't save Lieutenant Morden, but after the whole ordeal I was still alive and had saved the Commander, something he would hate.... At least until I showed the photos from our "camping trip".
Admiral Quinn was na' ... delighted, let's say, 'bout my bein' marooned nor the events wha' transpired on that lovely wee planetoid. Th' words 'Conduct Unbecoming' were used.
In my defense, let me back up a bit, though... First, Ensign Cabana Boy did'na care for me choice of music while workin' on th' runabout's engines an' such. Me, I'm a fan o'late Twentieth an' early Twenty-First classical music, but even if he did'na like Iron Maiden, Queensryche, Rammstein, Led Zeppelin, th' Grateful Dead, or Bob Seger, he could'a just asked an' I would'a stuck it in me earbug.
But nooooooo, Ensign Smartypants 'ad t'steal me music player. This, o'course, was mutiny. I did'na 'ave a plank handy, but I 'ad plenty o'rope, so I tied 'im to a tree. Serves 'im right, the wanker broke me runabout an' tossed me music player int'a th' ocean. Left 'im there overnight.
So the next mornin', the tosser's got a phaser on me an' is tryin' t'relieve me from duty! Somethin' about bein' a disgrace t'the uniform, a drunken pirate, an' a mental case. This, dear diary, was th' last ****in' straw: I be neither a disgrace to th' uniform nor do I 'ave toys in me attic. He wanted a pirate? I'd give 'im a pirate queen!
Picture this, diary: A stout Welsh lass, lean and muscular but still shapely at about two meters' height, wi' raven-black hair an' cold blue eyes, her uniform cut into a halter-top an' beach shorts, pilotin' a makeshift sailboat across a bay for a fishin' trip wi' a phaser-saw for a cutlass, a plasma pistol for a flintlock, a strip of red uniform for a bandana, an' a disobedient ensign tied t'th' mast.
Good times. What got creepier was when Ensign Scurvy Dog started gettin' into it, like some sort o' fancy dress roleplay thing where people end up all sweaty and tired afterward. Thankfully, after trussin' Ensign Sharkbait up an' makin' me pirate costume, I 'ad enough spare time t' cobble together a power source, a warp coil, an' a jackleg engine enough t'get said coil into low orbit, where th'power source started it oscillatin'. Sure, we did'na 'ave subspace comms, but a 'flare' works just as well as a distress call. The Paragon was there within th' next few days, we salvaged th' Miskatonic, marked the place for th' crew barbecue beach party next month, an' went on our merry way.
Th' Admiral wasn'a 'appy, at all, an' has slapped the entire thing into sealed records. No court-martial, not even captains' mast. He feels that if word got out, it could harm Starfleet's reputation in a time o'war on multiple fronts. I can see the logic in that...
...But I still look stonking good in a pirate outfit. Now if I can just get Ensign Creeper to stop droolin' every time he sees me, we'll be tip-top.
-Commander Moira Stern
USS Paragon, NCC-946478-A
Drem ordered me off my own ship because I raised my voice at my helmsman. I tried to explain to the well-intentioned, but overzealous doctor that I was getting status reports from the Tobarri colonies across the t?O network, but she wouldn?t buy it. Sometimes, I think she?s the one in need of a vacation. That damn woman, I never should have asked her to join my crew. She even had the unmitigated gall to order my security team to escort me to the shuttle bay. But apparently, I?m just the captain, and for some reason Starfleet chose to make Chief Medical Officers outrank captains ? for the life of me, I?ll never understand that decision.
So, there I was, in my shuttle, in the middle of the Felczer Nebula, a dozen light years from the Orellius Sector Block and known civilization. At least they dropped me off in a system near an idyllic M-class planet. And, as much as I hate to admit it, it was nice to get out and stretch my wings for a bit. I picked a campsite along the southern edge of the largest continent with some spectacular sea-side cliffs. The thermals rising up from there was perfect for soaring. The only thing that would have made it better was having Audria to share them with me.
Three days went by much too quickly for my tastes. Did I just say that out loud? I?ve got to put up the pretense that it was inconvenient. I can?t let Drem think that she could do this whenever she felt like it.
When it was time to go, I packed up the campsite, boarded the shuttle and took off to rendezvous with the Tobarrus. I had barely left orbit, when something bad happened.
The shuttle?s deflector stopped functioning and the shuttle began being struck by micrometeorites. I tried to raise the shields, but the forward emitter array took a hit. Without shields and without a deflector, I was stuck in orbit. I transmitted a distress call, knowing full well that the nebula?s interference would prevent the Tobarrus from detecting the signal until they were practically on top of me. It was not looking good, but I had to do something.
Next, I crawled under the forward console, removed the panel, and stared at the isolinear chips in utter confusion. I should have paid more attention to that engineering course at the Academy. I was tempted to start pulling chips, but decided against it. I didn?t want to make the situation any worse. I replaced the panel and crawled out from beneath the forward station. I climbed into my chair and thought for a minute as I looked around the shuttle. My gaze fell upon the transporter. If worse came to worse, I could always beam back down to the planet and extend my shoreleave for a while longer. The Tobarrus would come looking for him once they realized that he wasn?t at their rendezvous coordinates.
I sat back and thought for a moment. Suddenly, it occurred to me that the very thing that had sent me on this little excursion could be my saving grace. I tapped into the t?O?s telepathic network and sent a message across space in a blink of an eye to the Tobarri colony. There was a Starfleet Intelligence officer there that could relay my distress call to command and relay it to the Tobarrus for my rescue. It would take some time for my message to make its way up the chain of command, but at this point, it was my only choice.
I closed my eyes and focused on Marlos.
Marlos, are you there?
Behind my eyelids, I saw the node aboard the Tobarrus before the universe started to blur as I instantaneously transverse a hundred light years to the colony?s t?O node. Marlos came into focus. He was standing at a chalkboard with a complex equation scribbled across it. He stared thoughtfully at it. I materialized behind him. I cleared my throat to get his attention, but he didn?t acknowledge me. Marlos was lost in concentration. As he reachde to solve the equation, it changed. The numbers, letters, and symbols began to dance across the slate board. He scribbled answers frantically, but each one joined its companions in its waltz. Marlos was dreaming.
I reached for him and tapped his shoulder, which startled him awake. The environment that we stood in transformed into his bedroom at the colony. It was dark, but the moonlight from the pair of asteroids that orbited the tiny m-class world shone through the open window as a cool breeze blew made the curtains wafted back and forth.
Marlos was wrapped up a light sheet. He sat up from his bed and looked over at me in disbelief. He rubbed his eyes. When he focused on me again, he slumped his shoulders in disappointment.
Soriedem, is that you? He asked as he looked at the clock on his bedside. Do you know what time it is?
Marlos was the lead Tobarri researcher for the Borg nanite code problem. His role kept him in contact with Richard Stevenson, the Starfleet Intelligence liaison officer stationed on the Tobarri colony overseeing their work for the Federation against the Borg threat.
I?m sorry to disturb your sleep, I replied, but I have a bit of a problem and I need your help to get me out of it.
Marlos grew concerned as his brow furrowed and the expression on his face had shed its annoyance at being disturbed in the middle of the night. He shook the last vestiges of sleep and swung his legs from the bed. A problem? What happened? Is the Borg?
I sent him my memories in a series of telepathic flashes. He blinked quickly as he received and comprehended everything that I had sent him.
Why are you sending this to me? I don?t know a thing about Starfleet shuttles, and even less about their deflectors or shield arrays, he replied.
Next, I sent him details pertaining to my plan for being rescued by the Tobarrus and what I need him to do.
Rich won?t like being roused so early, but I?ll take care of it right now, Marlos replied as he got up from bed, slipped on his robe and slippers, and made his way to the door.
My final message to Marlos before disengaging our link was a simple, Thank you. In a blink of an eye, I crossed the galaxy and found myself alone in the shuttle, orbiting a small m-class world somewhere deep inside the Felczer Nebula.
All I could do now was wait for help to arrive. To occupy my time and stave off boredom, I played games with the computer, listened to music, cleaned up the shuttle, reorganized the compartments, took inventory of supplies, retuned the hand phasers, ran diagnostics on the remaining shuttle systems, and just about went out of my mind in boredom. You couldn?t imagine my disappointment when I discovered that only an hour had passed since contacting Marlos.
I checked in Marlos to find out what the status of the rescue was coming along. He was on the verge of sleep, when I roused him once again. When I asked for a status update, he seemed annoyed as he sat up in bed and began to describe going to Rich?s room, waking him up, and the message he transmitted to Starfleet Command. Marlos had done all he could to help me. It was now in Starfleet?s hands.
Instead of going back to bed, Marlos agreed to keep me company. I brought him back to my shuttle. As his consciousness settled into a chair across from my own, I went to the replicator and produced a three-dimensional chest board and set it up between us. I allowed him to make the first move. As nothing more than a figment of my imagination, he couldn?t influence anything on the shuttle. He would indicate his next move, and I would place the piece in its intended place. We played half dozen games in this manner before the sun rose on the Tobarri colony world. It was time for him to go to work. Reluctantly, I agreed to let him go if he would keep me updated on the status of the rescue. In an instance, he was gone and I was alone in the shuttle again.
I realized that I was hungry and prepared the last ration pack. If the Tobarrus didn?t arrive soon, I?d have to use the transporter to head back down to the planet for supplies. It was uninhabited and didn?t offer much in terms of animal life. However, it did have plenty of insects and plant life that would allow me to survive indefinitely down there. I just hoped that it didn?t come to that. After dinner, I stretched out on the bunk in the rear compartment and tried to get some sleep.
I?m not sure how long I was asleep when my communicator chirped indicating that the Tobarrus had finally come within range. I jumped from the bunk, and took a seat at the center console just as the Tobarrus came within view. I opened a channel and demanded to know what had taken them so long.
?We weren?t in a hurry to interrupt your vacation,? my first officer, Ceathoo replied. ?We?re extending our shields around the shuttle, and then, we?ll secure with our tractor beam. You?ll be back onboard in a few minutes.?
When the blue beam of the tractor beam grabbed hold of my shuttle, the small shuttle shook momentarily before it was pulled towards the Tobarrus. I closed the channel and sighed heavily with relief. It was almost over, and a few minutes later I was back on the bridge of my ship ready to get underway.
Later, after the engineering crews took the shuttle?s deflector apart, they discovered what had happened to it. They discovered a small colony of insects had crawled inside the shuttle?s deflector and made their new home in its warm interior spaces. The bugs had even eaten through the patch cables. Even if I had paid attention in the engineering course, there was little I could have done to repair the shuttle without an EV suit. Hearing that bit of news didn?t make me feel any better though. It just made me wish that Audria was here with me. She was always better with engineering and scientific principles than I was. Me, I was a soldier. I was more comfortable with a gun in my hands than a spanner or whatever they?re called.
The floor is at an angle. That's never a good sign.
I cough a bit and try to stand up. Floor sloping means two things; internal gravity is off, but there's a local grav field somewhere. Not much of one, though, as when I try to stand, I bounce off the shuttle's ceiling hard enough to put a crimp in my antennae.
Once I get over that, I start trying to piece together what happened.
Flying solo in the Felczer Nebula... a break from the normal routine aboard the Sita. I spotted a comet, went in for a quick sensor sweep... there was an unusual subspace rift nearby... I decided, what the heck, turn on the visual recorders, and get a picture of the anomaly framed against the comet's tail... I was just turning onto a new heading when something in the rift flared, sending a shower of exotic particles right in my face.
On the plus side, the snapshots should be spectacular.
On the down side - well, the shuttle is nose down on something big and solid, most likely that comet. That shouldn't normally be a problem, but I can smell the air, and it has that familiar and unmistakable scent of burned-out transtators. Systems damage. So: how bad?
I massage my antennae and set to work on the console.
The answer, it turns out, is plenty bad enough. Comms blown, not that they would be much help in the nebula anyway. EV controls mostly working, except for artificial gravity. Worst of all, thrusters are out. I have impulse, I can even re-establish a warp field... but before I do either of those things, I have to get the shuttle off the ground. And RCS thrusters are offline, and staying that way.
Think, Tylha, I tell myself. Thrusters are out; why?
The shuttle has ploughed into the surface of the comet, nose first, pointing down at an angle of about twenty degrees. Activating impulse or warp in this position will work... about as well as you'd expect, with a rocket motor behind you and a solid wall in front. I need to back myself out, and that means firing the forward RCS thrusters, and they won't fire. Safeties are cutting in. The tubes are mechanically obstructed, says the computer, which is a fancy way of saying they have comet-dirt wedged tight up them.
I think about this for a moment. I could override the safeties, and hope there's enough pressure to blow the dirt right out of the tubes... problem is, I don't know what the comet's surface material is, or how tight it's wedged. If it's too solidly packed, the pressure will come out another way - most likely taking the nose off the shuttle in the process. That falls into the category of Not Helping.
I could find out what the comet dirt is made of... except, there are those burned-out transtators again; sensors are minimal. I amuse myself with some environmental scans anyway. Surprisingly, this comet has a half-decent atmosphere, either from outgassing within itself, or collected from the body of the nebula. There's even an oxygen content; very low, though, and it's bitterly cold out there. Humans would complain, damn whiny pinkskins. Still, I doubt I'll be going outside for a stroll yet.
I take stock of my own personal resources. Fabrication kit... handy, if I need a quantum mortar or a phaser turret, which I don't, much. Perhaps I could adapt a seeker drone to do mining work? It's a thought, and I file that one for future consideration. I have my standard weapons, of course; sonic antiproton rifle and phased-tetryon assault gun. Fat lot of use those are going to be. I can't shoot my way out of a comet. I can't even drain their power cells to recharge the systems, like they did that time on the old Galileo; sonic AP and phased-tet both have incompatible cycles, without a dedicated adapter there's no way to charge or discharge them without a heck of a lot of waste heat.
I spin the command chair around, so I can lean back in it and think.
Establish a reverse warp field? From a standing start to moving backwards at a bit over lightspeed... It's not advised in atmosphere, let alone when partly embedded in the ground, and especially not with amber lights over most of my consoles. I decide to explore alternatives that are less likely to make me explode suddenly.
Tricorder is still working... I could go outside and get a sample of the comet material. Then I could scan it and work out just what my chances are, either firing the thrusters or getting a drone to dig me out. That's a good idea, and at least it would keep me busy. I make for my EV suit...
Damn. I knew that last Tholian back on Nukara got too close for comfort. There must have been a stress fracture in the visor, and when the shuttle crashed, my helmet got bounced around hard enough for it to fail. I look at the broken faceplate and reflect that, after all, I'm lucky; it could have happened on Nukara.
Still, going outside, into 3% oxygen atmosphere and a surface temperature of 197 Kelvin? File that one under desperation measures, I think.
The Sita will find me eventually, of course... I think. The ship will come hot-foot once I miss my scheduled rendezvous. Problem is, space is very big, and my shuttle is very, very small. They will find me - they won't ever stop looking. But how long will it take?
Besides, it's... embarrassing. Being picked up like some kind of cosmic hobo? It's enough to make me do a slow burn....
Something clicks with that phrase. Slow burn.
I need something to push the shuttle out of the comet. I need something that will deliver a sustained thrust - maybe not for long, but something that will be a shove, not a blow. Like the old firearms they used to have on Andoria or Earth, the ones with chemical explosive propellants - compounds that deflagrated, rather than exploded; burning, not blasting.
I start to rummage under the shuttle's helm console. There is a floor panel, which comes out; it gives me access to the subspace radio antenna, which was broken anyway, so no good to me. I set to work. By the time I'm finished, the subspace radio antenna is a lot more broken, and somehow I feel better. There is now an empty space in the front of the shuttle, with just the skin of the ship between it and the comet's dirt.
I wedge the phased-tet assault gun in there, tight. The replicators are offline, but the emergency kit has firefighting gear; I fill the space around it with a couple of spray cans' worth of insulating foam.
Now, I need to seal it in. I reach for the fabrication kit; drone time. I always fancy these support drones quiver when they see me coming at them with a screwdriver in one hand and a purposeful glint in my eye. Some time later, the drone's energy weapon is a fairly serviceable welder. Shortly afterwards, the inside of the shuttle is very hot and smelly, and the phased-tet gun is welded very firmly inside the space where the antenna used to be. And I have comprehensively voided that drone's warranty. Never mind.
I kick bits of antenna out of the way, and they spin lazily in the weak gravity.
Now for the next fun part. The induction charger for the weapon will still work, even through the makeshift box it's sealed up in - but inefficiently, so very, very inefficiently. Normally, that would grate on me, but this time I want inefficiency. Because inefficiency, in engineering terms, always means heat.
I set the charger for a fast discharge - normally, draining the gun's powercells back into the shuttle's system. But, the way I've set things up, I'll be lucky to get a hundred kilojoules out of that gun. All the rest of the charge in its cells will turn into waste heat; lovely, lovely waste heat, right up close against the surface of that comet with only a highly conductive metal plate in the way.
Of course, despite the foam, a fair amount of that waste heat is bleeding back into the shuttle's cabin, too. I can hear the life support system complaining; I feel like complaining myself. The little ship's interior is turning into something only a Vulcan could love. I have to take my uniform jacket off. Damn it.
But that comet dirt - whatever it's made of, it is ice cold, or worse than ice cold. Under the influence of that hot spot, it melts, bubbles, expands -
Pressure always seeks the easiest way out, and the easiest way out for this pressure... is pushing my shuttle out of the hole it's dug for itself.
There are lots of ugly grating sounds, and jolts and jerks that the inertial dampers don't quite catch in time, and the structural integrity system flashes more amber lights at me. But the shuttle is moving, now, in a cloud of exotic steam, and all of a sudden it is free, flying even; the pressure is enough to overcome the weak gravity.
I switch off the charger, but a little too late; there is a bright flash from beneath the shuttle's nose as the overheating assault gun finally melts its way through the skin. Oops. My welds hold, though, so I'm not breathing space.
And - after overriding a few dozen nagging safeties - I have first impulse, then warp power at my disposal.
I set a course, out of the nebula, towards the rendezvous point. So I'll be a little early... but I'll make it there all by myself. And all I have to worry about now is - a large hole in the front of the shuttle, a few burned-out systems, and the paperwork to replace that phased-tet assault gun.
All in all, it could have been worse. I turn off one last safety alarm, and settle down for a sleep. I've earned it.
Starfleet Command has finally pulled the Supernova out of the Donatu sector, and temporarily reassigned us to star charting duties. It will be a welcome respite, to say the least, after three long weeks of wrestling with the Klingons. We were lucky enough to escape in one piece, but we lost four good ships in the Ker'rat and Zibal systems: the Raven, the Brunswick, the Crusader, and the Heartland.
There were two thousand men and women aboard those four vessels, and their captains were competent officers and personal friends of mine.
But this is war, and all we can do is move on.
Starfleet has ordered us to proceed to the Orellius Sector Block and collect samples and data from the Felczer Nebula. To a tactical-oriented ship and crew that spends most of its time on the front lines, this mission could be defined as monotonous?however, monotony is a luxury that is in far too short supply at the moment.
As a result, I have left the Supernova in Commander Calar's capable hands and taken the Captain's Yacht to have a little time to myself. There have been some exotic spatial phenomenon reported in this region of space, so I intend to take a sightseeing trip and clear my head. It'll be a pleasant change to go more than six hours without hearing the Red Alert klaxon.
"Computer, increase the resolution of the lateral sensor array and initiate another scan."
The computer signaled an acknowledgement, and I sat back to watch the analysis flow in. Technically, I was only here to observe with my eyes, but three full-size comets traveling in a group was too rare for me to pass up an opportunity to take some scans.
"Analysis complete," the computer reported. "Parsing sensor data."
Resetting the sensor array, I took a last glimpse at the comet trio and began warming up the warp drive. I was about to set my course, when the sensors beeped an alert. "Warning: Breen warship approaching from sector space," the computer informed me in an impeccably calm tone of voice.
I raised shields, right as a hulking Sarr Theln warship dropped out of warp, almost completely filling the forward viewport. I gazed at the sight, forgetting to breathe for a moment.
"Starfleet shuttlecraft, this is Thot Kek of the Breen Confederacy," a cruel metallic Breen voice announced over the comm channel. "Lower your shields and prepare to be detained. If you do not comply, you will be destroyed."
"Computer, generate a feedback loop and transmit it over the comm," I instructed. No doubt there were more ingenious tricks I could have used rather than trying to assault Thot Kek's ears, but I can't say I was fully prepared to be attacked by the Breen on my vacation. My brain would need at least several more seconds to kick into combat mode.
Swinging the yacht away from the warship, I engaged the impulse drive and headed for the comets. They were my best and only chance of escape.
It took the Breen a moment to react to my maneuver, but their response was a volley of transphasic torpedoes to my aft shields. Upon regaining my posture, I rerouted power to the damaged shield face.
The warship opened up on me with its full array of weaponry, and a shower of sparks exploded from a panel behind me. I knew the yacht couldn't take much more pounding?whatever I was going to do, I needed to do it fast.
After a seeming eternity, my ship finally overtook the comet trio. I waited as long as I dared to gain a safe distance, then reached over to the tactical controls and sent a photon torpedo spread out the aft tube.
It was a shame to have to destroy such a beautiful natural wonder?but in the long run, I valued myself more than a stellar phenomenon. The comets exploded in spectacular fashion, sending fragments in all directions and obscuring the Sarr Theln warship in a thick cloud of dust. I sent the yacht into a dive and fed all power that wasn't supporting the shields or life support into the impulse engines.
For a few hopeful seconds, I thought I had lost them completely. An impact against my stressed shields quickly destroyed that fantasy, but the move did gain me a great deal of valuable breathing room. I was now outside tractor beam range, and I had a better chance of dodging torpedoes at this distance.
On the downside, now that I had proven to be slipperier than they originally anticipated, the Breen were likely to be a little more determined to turn me into space dust. And I didn't have a hope of outrunning that warship.
Searching for inspiration, I checked the sensors. To my surprise, by either pure luck or divine intervention, my new course was taking me near a small planet?Class L, by the looks of it, and it wasn't that far away.
I didn't need a Vulcan to tell me that the odds of reaching the planet intact were stacked against me, but Starfleet officers never say die.
I used every trick in the book to stimulate my shields, and invented a few more on the spot. But the yacht's defensive systems were not designed to withstand a sustained assault by a warship, and the shields finally collapsed as I entered the planet's atmosphere. I diverted my attention from piloting and tried to reassemble the shields, but it was to no avail.
I was nearly knocked out of my chair as a shot from the Breen ship's polaron array struck the yacht's unshielded hull. An emergency siren went off, followed by a dire alert from the computer: "Warning. Structural integrity compromised."
I braced myself against another weapon impact, and then another. My ship bucked and did its best to spin out and roll over. Fighting to maintain control, I continued my reckless dive through the upper cloud layer.
Dodging another polaron blast, I broke through the lower cloud layer and got my first look at the planet's surface. The terrain was mainly forest and mountains, with a temperate climate that looked to be just a little on the cool side. More importantly, the presence of common trees indicated an oxygen atmosphere.
My new and improved plan was to take cover among the mountains and dense foliage. If I could confuse my attackers' sensors long enough to put the planet's mass between myself and them, I would be free to escape to warp.
The tactical console began beeping frantically, drawing my attention to the aft sensors. I glanced at the screen, just in time to witness the Breen warship fire a transphasic torpedo?a fatal proposition for my unprotected yacht.
It took me three seconds to determine that my shields were fried and weren't coming back up anytime soon. It took me another three seconds to determine that there was nowhere to hide; the mountain range I was heading for was still half a minute away. At my current position, there was nothing but forest and hills.
It was over.
The torpedo barreled towards me. At the very last second, I threw the yacht's nose down and to the right, so the impact would occur as far away from the cockpit as possible.
The projectile struck my ship with bone-jarring force. The lights immediately blacked out, and the aft section was filled with the screeching sounds of the hull being annihilated. A chain of explosions resounded against my ears like a thunderclap.
The yacht spiraled downward and slammed nose-first into the ground, crashing violently through the forest end over end. I was thrown clear of my chair, and blacked out upon hitting the floor.
I don't know how long I was unconscious. Not very long, obviously, since I woke up on the floor of my ship and not on the floor of a Breen holding cell.
Light was streaming in through the shattered forward viewport, and a deep silence had seemed to settle over what was left of the yacht. Thick smoke curled lazily through the air, and a handful of still-functional emergency lights pulsated on and off.
I lifted my head and immediately wished I hadn't as pain shot through my temples. I fought through the agony and forced myself to get up until I was in a kneeling position. From there, I took stock of my situation. Aside from a concussion and several intensely sore locations along my ribcage and lower back, I did not appear to have any serious injuries?which meant I still had a decent chance of getting out of this mess, if I moved fast.
I rose to my feet and shakily made my way to the cockpit's stash of emergency supplies. I opened the locker and withdrew a survival backpack, medical kit, tricorder, and a hand phaser.
Loading myself down with equipment probably wasn't the best thing I could have done for my body in its delicate condition, but it was better than being improperly equipped to face the ecosystem of this alien world and the Breen forces that were sure to come looking for me.
I situated everything so it was more or less comfortable to carry, then opened up the yacht's hatch and surveyed my surroundings. The air was cool and comfortably breathable, and the surrounding terrain appeared to be easily traversable. Which was good, because if the engine whine I could hear steadily approaching my location belonged to a squadron of Breen fighters, I would need to beat a very hasty retreat.
I picked a direction at random and began running. After about a hundred and twenty meters, I figured I was at a safe enough distance and stopped to catch my breath.
The engine whines continued growing louder, and I turned around in time to see a trio of Bleth Chaos fighters do a flyby over the crash site. They fanned out and proceeded in different directions, sensors trained on the forest below. The metal content of the trees would protect me from detection unless one of them flew right over me, but I still needed to keep moving. Before I did so, however, I had to ensure that what was left of my ship would not fall into enemy hands.
Opening up my tricorder, I pointed it at the wreckage and tuned it to a wavelength I could use to transmit a self-destruct code to the yacht. I input the code with my personal authorization, and reached for the transmit button.
My finger froze as my eyes locked on the three Breen fighters. They had rejoined formation and were returning to the crash site, probably to use it as a central location to run a thorough scan of the area. They were moving slowly, at a tantalizingly low altitude. If they got close enough to the wrecked yacht?
I watched the fighters intently as they crept closer, estimating the distance in my head. Three hundred meters ? two hundred meters ? one hundred meters?
I triggered the signal, and my ship blew up in a spectacular explosion.
It was all I could have hoped for. One of the fighters was caught directly above the blast and incinerated on the spot. The second one spun out of control and crashed into the forest, detonating on impact. The third one survived the initial explosion and began to fall to the ground, but the pilot regained control at the last second and executed an impressive emergency landing.
As the fighter came to rest, it suddenly occurred to me that my ticket out of here may have just been placed within my grasp.
There was no time to spare. Putting away my tricorder, I sprinted for the downed vessel as fast as my legs would take me. How fortunate that I had not retreated too far from my crashed yacht.
In no time at all, I was approaching the downed Breen fighter. Taking care to stay out of sight of the cockpit viewports, I found a way to climb onto the vessel and did so quickly and quietly. Once I was on, I dropped to my belly and began crawling along the fuselage towards the cockpit.
I could see the Breen pilot now. He appeared to be running a diagnostic on his ship's systems, and was thoroughly engaged in his work. Drawing my phaser, I rapped my knuckles on the cockpit canopy to get his attention and crawled backwards out of sight.
I heard the whirr of hydraulics, and the hiss of pressurized air escaping the cockpit as the pilot, motivated by curiosity, opened the canopy. Within moments, a helmeted head popped up and peered in my direction.
I stunned the Breen with a single shot. The helmet receded, followed by a thud as his limp form tumbled out of the cockpit and onto the ground.
Holstering my weapon, I scampered forward and dropped into the cockpit.
The controls were all labeled in the Breen language, but I was familiar with the basics of their symbols and was able to identify everything with some difficulty. Canopy toggle?there. Cockpit pressurization?there. Engine startup?there.
The diagnostic the pilot had so thoughtfully performed for me indicated minor to moderate damage on most systems, but impulse engines were intact and the fighter's tiny condensed warp drive was still functioning. That was all I needed.
I engaged thrusters and brought the vessel above the treetops. Orienting myself away from the orbiting Sarr Theln warship, I throttled up to full impulse and jetted away.
Predictably, the warship contacted me. "Bleth Chaos 47, what is your status?" Thot Kek inquired. I had no intention of responding.
Angling the fighter up into the sky, I blasted through the clouds and into orbit.
"Bleth Chaos 47, return to the ship. Pilot, do you copy?"
"You lose, Thot Kek," I muttered triumphantly to myself. I set a course for the Felczer Nebula and, with a final look at the clueless Breen warship, I engaged the warp drive.
Join the MAF!: http://mandos.enjin.com/
If you would still like to participate in this challenge, feel free to do so. I'll be unsticking this as I prepare to post up #29.
Cheers,
Brandon =/\=