Unofficial Literary Challenge 10: redux #1

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• grylak Member Posts: 1,594 Arc User

  April 2015 edited April 2015

  "Why has no one turned up yet?"
  "What do you mean?"
  "Why has no one turned up yet? The entire Prentary homeworld was destroyed. Ships were lost, but no one came looking."
  
  Trarsk turned from the viewscreen and leaned on the helm console, staring at the young face of Jenna as she sat at her post. "If your homeworld went silent, wouldn't you send people to investigate? But we've been sitting in this system for a week now, and no one else has turned up. Why? What are they afraid of?"
  "Maybe they think whatever happened to the first group of ships they sent will happen to everyone else?"
  "But then why not send probes? I know the Prentary. They have technology that could easily see there's no danger in this system. So why haven't they sent any rescue ships to search for survivors?"
  
  "Maybe they know there's no survivors." Talaina walked over to them, wearing a tanktop and some technician trousers, a couple of tools stored in the trouser pockets. Sweat glistened on her blue brow as she tossed the toolkit to the floor, hitting the comm panel. "Dotson. Can you hear me now?"
  "Yes Captain. That seems to have done the trick. Power to the structural integrity field is holding steady. We should be able to get warp 3.2 now. But our Deuterium reserves are almost depleted. We'll need to find a nebula to gather more supplies with the ramscoops. Provided they're working."
  "Can't you do an EVA, check them?"
  "Sorry Sir. Diagnostics for that part of the ship are completely gone. Only way to know if they'll work is to try them out."
  "Ok Dotson. We'll try to find somewhere. Let me know if you need more work in the Tubes doing. Kazzur out."
  
  
  Talaina sighed and wiped her brow with the back of her arm. Trarsk approached her and felt her head. "If you don't mind my saying, you don't look well."
  "Had to patch together some relays very close to a burning plasma vent. My species doesn't handle high temperatures well. I'll be ok once I cool down a bit. I don't think we can wait any longer for help from the Prentary. I know you value them highly Trarsk, but we need to get moving. We've already been adrift here far too long." Trarsk looked crestfallen, but nodded his agreement. Talaina turned to see who else was on the Bridge. Only one other. "T'Fon. Find us a nebula with a high deuterium content. Then send the coordinates to helm. I need to change." Talaina scrubbed her face, trying to get some kind of energy back into her mind. Running her hand up through her hair, she let it hang loose. It was very odd for her to have it out of it's customary ponytail, but even the most militaristic of folks reach a limit. Before she could even leave, sensors started beeping a contact. "Captain. Unknown vessel approaching. They are not hailing."
  
  "On screen."
  
  The ship was small and agressive looking. Black in colour, it was vaugly reminiscent of a Tholian web spinner, if it tried to bulk up it's intimidation. A series of flashes launched towards the Viper. "BRACE! BRACE!" The ship was kicked sideways from the trio of impacts. As Talaina picked herself up from the floor, a series of thumps rang out from the hull. With no phaser handy, she grabbed a welding torch from the toolkit and ignited it. "Everyone. Defend yourselves."
  
  
  An explosion tore the Bridge doors free. Through the smoke came quadraped insects, about six foot in height. They carried rifles that shot green blobs. Jenna was hit straight away, the goo compressing her into the seat. Talaina slashed the torch across the nearest bug's hands, easily seperating it from the arm. As the bug squealed and moved back, Talaina whipped out the knife on her belt and slashed it at another bug. The creature jumped back out of range, allowing one of it's companions to fire. Talaina rolled under the glob and sprang up, spinning through the air to deliver a series of quick blows to the two invaders. T'Fon had joined the fight, holding his own. But another explosion in the other door yielded another group. They swarmed the Bridge and fired. T'Fon went down and Talaina only had time to burn a scar through the face of one before she felt the thick viscous goo envelop her body. It immediately began constricting, forcing her arms down to her body. The torch flickered out, smothered by the partial liquid. The pressure was becoming too great. The more she struggled, the more the air was squeezed from her lungs. Talaina collapsed, desperately gasping for air. Holding on as much as she could, she rolled to see the bugs picking up her crew. But it was no good. Her already exhausted body surrendered and everything went to black.
  
  
  
  Something caught in her throat. Talaina coughed violently, forcing her eyes open. She was lying on her side on a dusty stone floor. Her throat felt raw. Gingerly pushing herself upright, she blinked a few times to clear her head head. "Ow. What were they hitting us with?" She looked around, noticing for the first time she was in a cage only a few metres wide. Some strange aliens were in cages around her, and the large room seemed to be made of the same orange stone as the floor. The creature in the cell beside came over to the bars. Covered in green scales, the quadraped lizard type thing stared at Talaina with a large bulbous eye either side of a long snout, large burly arms with sharp claws gripped the bars. A large pair of leather wings folded up against it's back, though they looked too small to lift the weight of the creature. It flickered it's forked tongue quickly at Talaina before turning away from her. "Captain?" The voice of Willie Wurz brought Talaina's attention around. The Ensign was in the cage on the other side. "Ensign? Are you ok?"
  
  "I think so."
  "Where are we?"
  "I don't know. I haven't seen anyone come to check on us, or any sign of the rest of the crew. How are you?"
  "Fine." she lied. "First thing we have to do is get out of here." She struggled to her feet and approached the door to her cell. "Hmmm. A standard physical key lock. Should be easy to pick." Talaina reached up to take the pin out of her hair, only to realise it hadn't been in there all day. "Damn." She looked over to Wurz, but having a buzz cut, the Ensign wouldn't have one either. Patting herself down, her fingers paused on a button on one of her trouser pockets. That could work. She popped the button off and removed the pin. With a deft flexability, she manouvered the pin into the lock and slowly started working. Suddenly hearing someone coming, she hid the pin and stepped back. A group of seven burly humanoids in heavy armour and carrying spears marched into the dungeon. "You two are next." That was interesting. The universal translator had already adapted to their language. How long had she been unconcious? Talaina straightened upright. "I demand to know where we are."
  
  
  One of the guards laughed as he unlocked the cell. "You'll get your answers." He grabbed Talaina by her neck and forced her forwards. Wurz was also being marched forwards through the stone halls. Talaina leaned slightly over to whisper to the Ensign. "Stay calm and try to stick together. Until we know what's happening-"
  
  "SILENCE!" A punch to her back knocked the wind out of her. This whole situation was humiliating. Chalk up yet another reason to hate this galaxy. A chanting crowd could be heard from just beyond the doors ahead. The group stopped before them. One of the guards moved too close to Talaina. "I hope you survive. You intrigue me." The doors jerked open, casting a blinding light into the hall and causing both Starfleet officers to look away. The guards pushed them into the next area before the doors closed. Talaina looked around. They were in a large Collosium style structure with thousands of aliens in the seats. The arena floor was littered with discarded weapons and blood smears. Large falcon-esque birds circled above, some on the ground picking at the remains of someone. The crowd's cheering intesified as from an observation box, a green being roughly 14 feet in height approached the balcony. Large tusks curled around a too well fed face, his body bloated from an obvious life of luxury. The being raised his hands and the crowd fell silent.
  
  
  "My fellow patrons. I give you another exciting match. The Blue Girl and the Brown Girl, exotic travellers from distant lands, will face off against the Morphacons. This is an exclusive first match. All bets are being taken." The crowd erupted in applause as animalistic creatures that defied description entered the arena. Talaina stepped forward. "Who are you and what gives you the right to kidnap us?" The man feigned insult. "Kidnap? Why I would never kidnap any free person. Slaves such as yourself.... that's not kidnapping. That's making a purchase. For I am Gyconi, and I am LAW on this world."
  "And you expect us to fight for your amusement?"
  "Basically... yes. That is what I bought you for."
  "We were never slaves. We were kidnapped against our will. We will not fight for your amusement."
  
  Gyconi frowned and leaned on the balcony railing. "You will do as I command."
  "No. I refuse." Gyconi sighed. He raised a pistol and fired, striking Wurz directly in the head. The audience fell silent at Talaina's scream. She ran over to the Ensign and collapsed, cradling her in her arms. "No no no. There was no need for that. She didn't do anything." She held Wurz's head tight against her chest, as all of the pent up emotion of the last year overcame her. The guards came up to her and grabbed her by the arms. Her vision blurred by tears, something seemed to snap in the Andorian. A year away from home. Hunted. Chased. Most of the crew wiped out. The survivors now missing. The only one she was left with randomly executed with no warning and for no purpose. Even those with military training can only take so much.
  
  
  Roaring in a feral rage, Talaina broke free and spun around, dropping down and trapping one of the guard's knees between her legs. Twisting her body, she caused the guard to hit the ground hard, giving Talaina chance to grab his spear and spin it around, building up enough momentum to smash it into the other guard's helmet. He staggered back, only to get the point through his neck. Purple blood gushed out as he tried to clasp the wound, but Talaina pressed her advantage, breaking the tip in his skin and spinning around backwards, driving the shaft forwards to crush his throat. As he went down for good, the other guard got up and backhanded Talaina across the face. She crashed to the ground but rolled with the momentum, springing up into a battle stance. The guard jumped forward and Talaina rolled sideways. Another shuffle brought her close to one of the weapons. A spiked flail. As the guard jumped again, she rolled to the weapon and grabbed it. Spinning it over her head, she launched it at the guard. His helmet buckled from the impact and he staggered back, having to force the helmet off. He was the same species as Gyconi, but in much better physical shape. Talaina was certain to change that. She ran forwards and double drop-kicked him in the chest. Landing on her hands, she sprang up and charged again, making to do another jump. The guard fell for it and missed her completely as she drove her heel into his knee. Though the armour took most of the impact, it did force his knee to bend backwards enough to force him down. Grabbing the flail, Talaina smashed it down into his skull with as much force as she could muster.
  
  
  It was only now she started to come to her senses. The crowd was on their feet with thunderous applause. Gyconi just smiled knowingly before Talaina felt the goo the insectoids had used envelop her body once more. She crashed to the ground, but this time, instead of fighting it, she welcomed the oncoming blackness.
  
  
  
  Talaina sat in her cell, back against the wall, knees drawn up. She stared unwavering at the guard outside. The sound of combat could be heard from the arena. Something told her it was more of her crew out there. She just stared at the guard, letting her rage simmer. The guard obviously knew, as he kept shifting uncomfortably. She just stared. Unblinking. Not moving. Finally the guard had enough and walked towards some of the other cages. Without loosing a beat, Talaina was on her feet and using the pin to unlock the door. Slipping out of the cage, she ducked down behind some crates, waiting for the guard to come back. It didn't take long. Waiting for him to pass, she leapt on his back, closing her arms around his throat and squeezing. The guard struggled, but she had a firm grip. She felt his life slowly ebbing away, but she didn't relent. When he dropped to his knees, she grabbed the pistol off his belt and fired it into his ribs. He coughed out blood and faceplanted. Talaina stood up and checked the weapon. A simple point and shoot weapon, with what appeared to be three settings. Setting it to it's maximum, she aimed at the guard and fired. A blue glow enveloped him, dissolving his body into dust. "Hmmm. Interesting weapon."
  
  
  Keeping it handy, Talaina looked over at the creature in the cage beside hers. It was watching her intently. Should she set it free? Or leave it be? There was no way to know how it was going to react. No way to know if it was hostile or friendly. "TRIBBLE it." She approached the door and, setting the weapon on it's lowest level, fired at the lock. The door swung open and the creature came out, hugging Talaina. It spoke in a series of clicking noises before running off down the hall. Knowing she needed to reach Gyconi, and with no clue how to get out of this place, she started after it.
  
  
  A few turns later, she found herself in one of the pits surrounding the collosium. Hidden from view to the outside, but able to see what was going on, Talaina crouched down behind a stone arch. In the arena, she saw the battered body of Jenna prone on the ground, Grimworm stood over her fighting two of those Morphicons. He had trapped one of them under his right foot, where he had it pinned despite it's best efforts to claw him. The other beast was stuck with the Hulkanion holding apart it's long jaws. The fury he showed demonstrated just how dire the situation was, as he let out a roar, tearing the jaw apart. He then started to beat the creature with it's own jaw until it fled. Grimworm reached down and dug his fingers into the second Morphicon's eyes, slowly increasing pressure until it's skull collapsed. Talaina wanted desperately to run out there and help. To see if Jenna was alive. To shoot everyone in that arena for what they were doing. But she knew if she did that, she would just be put right back in the cage under heavier guards. The only way to help them was to get to Gyconi and force him to release them.
  
  
  She watched as Grimworm knelt down and checked on Jenna. The relief on his face told Talaina the Ensign was still alive. "Thank the Ice for that miracle." The guards surrounded Grimworm and aimed their weapons. He looked like he was about to start fighting them. "Don't do it Grimworm." Talaina quietly muttered under her breath. "Just take Jenna and look after her." She was relieved to see him doing just that. Movement nearby caught her attention. One of the falcon's had walked beside her. It truly was a majestic bird. But not something Talaina needed to focus on. She was about to move, but there was something odd. The bird was staring her in the eye. It was almost like their was some intelligence to it. The bird turned and walked round some crates. Talaina followed and stopped, gasping in horror. The weapon clattered to the ground, forgotten. Before her was a fenced animal feeding area. Scraps of meat littered the area, and casually thrown in was the body of Ensign Willie Wurz. Other birds had been pecking at her, eating pieces off her. The sight was too much. Talaina jumped the fence and ran forwards, shooing the birds away. It was heartbreaking to see her in such a state. Talaina collapsed to her knees, hands held out near her officer, but afraid to touch her. Who would do something like this to another person? Where was the respect? The value for the life that had been. Wurz deserved more than this. She deserved more than Talaina could do for her now.
  
  
  Talaina ran her fingers through her hair, clutching her own head tightly. "I'm so sorry I failed you. But I will avenge you." She slowly got to her feet and walked over to the dropped weapon. The falcon that had guided her just stood there, watching it all. Talaina picked the weapon up and slowly walked back over to Wurz. Tears streaming as she aimed the weapon, adjusting the setting. "Be at piece Ensign. And if you see the rest of the crew.... tell them I'm sorry." She watched as a blue glow took the human away. She kept staring at the spot Wurz had been for a few moments before running down the nearest corridor. She knew where Gyconi would be. That observation box he was in. Everyone seemed focused on watching the combat, which made it easier for Talaina to move unnoticed. As she moved through a larger area, she heard a low voice. She paused and looked around. Ttorkkinn was in a cage nearby. She went to the door.
  
  
  "Captain? Are you ok?"
  "No. They killed Ensign Wurz."
  "Damn." Talaina shot the lock on the cage. "So what's the plan here?" Talaina looked Ttorkkinn dead in his eyes. "We find Gyconi. And we find out where the rest of the crew is." Ttorkkinn nodded and the two moved off. But he was worried. There was a look in her eyes. Something he had rarely seen in all the years he'd known her.
  
  
  
  
  She eventually came to a large set of double doors. This was obviously the place. It was the only room she had come across that even remotely looked like someone important lived in it. But the doors were sealed. "There must be another way in." Ttorkkinn had moved to a window. "There is. There's a ledge out here that goes right to the balcony." Talaina moved over to the window. The crowds below had dispersed. Whatever sick games they played were over for now. Talaina just had to get her crew out before they started up again, and before anyone else was lost. However, the ledge was very narrow. Only wide enough for one foot at a time, sideways. She looked back to her First Officer. "Wait here. I'll check out the layout and come back. Then we can make a plan."
  
  "Ok. But be careful."
  
  
  
  Talaina climbed out onto the ledge. Her boot was barely able to fit on, so she spread her arms against the wall and leaned back against it slightly. Fortunately, there was no wind so she was able to very slowly shuffle along the ledge. It was slow going, and more than once she had to stop to compose herself. A fall from this height would certainly kill her. Gently moving along, she finally came to the edge of the balcony just above her head. Short pillars formed the base of the railing, letting her to cautiously reach up and take hold with her left hand. Giving it a very gentle tug, it seemed to be solid. This next bit was going to be a nightmare. Taking a few sharp breaths, she swung out and flung her right arm up, fingers grasping. They brushed the stone but failed to grab. Panic shot through her as she fell back against the wall, supported only by one hand which her reflexes caused to tighten up on the pillar. Positioning her feet under her, she pushed herself up off the wall and swung again, the time grabbing the pillar. She slowly raised herself up just enough so her eye level was flat along the floor, trying to keep her antenna as flat as possible. From what she saw, there was no way to sneak up on him properly. The room was very ornately furnished, and Gyconi sat behind a large desk towards the back of the room. They could easily jump over the railing and rush him, but the question was what weapons did he have hidden back there? And why did he appear so agitated?
  
  
  As she watched, the doors opened and two identical looking robots strode in. Talaina didn't recognise them, but she knew the kind of robots they were. About 16 feet tall with wheels on their outer legs and back of their shoulders. Humanoid in appearance with a hunched metallic hood over their shoulders and heads, and a face that was nothing more than two eyes and a mouthplate. Identical in every way. Except one was black, one was white. Cybertronians. Talaina mentally groaned. She hoped they had got out of the influence of their war after the first few months of being in this galaxy. Obviously they were a bigger curse than she realised. She remained watching as the white one strode up to the desk and leaned on both palms. His voice was slightly high pitched, and spoke very quickly.
  
  "Gyconi! My favourite Pit Boss. How's life treating ya? Good I hope?" The black one walked beside his friend and spoke in the exact same voice. "Yeah, it better be good. Certainly looks good. All these fancy things you got."
  "G-gentlemen. Please. Surely there's some kind of arrangement we can come to."
  "Oh, yeah, sure. What do ya say Runamuck?" The black one asked. "Sure Runabout. I mean, you do have such nice treasures. It'd be a shame if someone were to report back that a certain someone was skimming a bit off the top."
  "Now now. I assure you both, all proceeds from the fights and casino are reported and paid properly. I'm not getting anything extra."
  "Why don't I believe him Runabout?"
  "Gee, I don't know Runamuck. Oh! OH! I DO! It's because he's a filthy lying cheat who thinks just because he's not near any Decepticon territory, he can get away with thinking he's a big shot all of a sudden." The two robots picked up the desk and flung it against the side wall. They went up to Gyconi and put their arms around him. Runamuck leaned in closer. "But that's not true. I know where my place is. And I think you need a lesson on where yours is." Runabout punched Gyconi in his stomach. The Pitt Boss doubled over in agony. As the two robots started beating him, Talaina had seen enough. She carefully lowered herself back onto the ledge and shimmied back to the window. Ttorkkinn offered her a hand back inside as he asked. "Did you see them?"
  
  "Yeah. Cybertronians. They're extorting Gyconi and they don't seem too happy he's been cheating them. How did you hide?"
  "Curtains over there. They just walked straight past."
  "Ok. Here's the plan. Assuming they don't kill him, we wait until those robots leave, then we storm in."
  "What if he's got weapons ready against us?"
  "Something tells me he's not going to be in a position to refuse. Come on, let's get behind those curtains."
  
  
  The two officers hid and waited. It was another ten minutes before the doors opened and the two Cybertronians walked out, congratulating each other on a sucessful lesson taught. Talaina waited until the echo of their footsteps had gone, then motioned Ttorkkinn to move. They moved swiftly from the curtain. The doors were left open and Gyconi was prone on the floor, bleeding in the fetal position. One of his tusks lay broken beside him. Talaina didn't even attempt stealth. She just marched up to him and pushed him onto his back with her boot. "Now you listen to me. You will tell me where the rest of my crew is and how to get out of here, or I'll make the pain you're in now feel like a mild headache." Gyconi just looked at her and spat blood in her face. Without a word, Talaina picked up the broken tusk and positioned it point first over his left eye. Pausing a moment for him to answer, of which none came, she promptly pushed the tusk into his eye and scooped it out. Gyconi roared as Ttorkkinn moved over to her. "Captain! What are you doing?"
  
  "Getting answers. Now. Tell me what I want to know. Or loose the other eye."
  "No." He whimpered. "No. I am the law. I am total."
  "Laws were meant to be broken." A bird cry from the balcony caused Talaina to look over. One of those falcon type birds had perched on the railing, watching. It let out another cry. Ignoring it, Talaina turned back to Gyconi. "Yes? Or no?"
  "Ok, ok! Your people are being held in the Slave labour camp, two streets over. Section Alpha Four."
  "Good."
  
  
  Talaina stood up and dropped the tusk. Pulling out her pistol, she aimed at Gyconi square between the eye and empty socket. Her aim wavered as she stared at the monster, broken before her. Ttorkkinn placed a hand ontop of the pistol and slowly forced it down. "No Captain. Not like this. We're better than that."
  
  "I should hope you are." The female voice from behind startled them both. Behind them was a six foot robot, with falcon wings folded up on her back, falcon feet forming her heels and the beast's head forming a significant part of her chest. Her armour was considerably different styled compared to the two Decepticons from earlier, almost an organic metal, but she was certainly a Cybertronian. She walked up to them, staring at Gyconi with her black eyes, framed around the silver face, a faux beak like structure acting like a sort of fringe. "Though we got the information we need, I would have to stop you from taking his life."
  
  "And who are you?" Talaina demanded.
  "Airrazor. Autobot scout. And you?"
  "Captain Kazzur. Trying to save my crew."
  "I see. Well, looks like we all got the info we need. And then some. He mentioned your ship runs on.... antimatter?"
  "What are you getting at?"
  "Simply that we Autobots could use your help. Would you be willing share the secret of your antimatter? In return, I'll get your crew out. There's a shuttle in the loading bay. You should be able to use it to get to your ship in orbit. Head to these coordinates."
  
  Ttorkkinn frowned as he pipped up. "You seem very trusting of us." Airrazor shrugged. "We know who you are, and how certain Decepticons kept hunting you for your invisibility device. Though we Autobots never directly interacted with you, as a target of interest, we kept intelligence reports on you. I pulled them when I heard you were planetside. Your actions always seemed the right ones in the past, so I'm taking a risk. But with your antimatter ability, we could end the war in one fell swoop. That's gotta be a feather in anyone's cap." Talaina nodded. "Ok. We'll help."
  
  "Great! I'll get your crew out and have them meet you at the shuttle." Airrazor transformed back into her bird mode and took off skyward. Ttorkkinn looked at Talaina aghast. "Tell me we are not going to give those things the power of antimatter."
  "No. We're not. But we are going to use them to get our crew out and back to the ship. We'll jump to warp as soon as we're on board."
  "Good. For a minute there, I thought you'd lost your senses." Ttorkkinn turned and left the room, making sure the exit was clear. Watching him go, Talaina pointed her pistol at Gyconi's head and fired, then ran after Ttorkkinn.
  
  
  
  
  They made it to the shuttle without much hassle. What few guards they encountered were quickly dispatched. The rest of the crew were already waiting for them, with Airrazor. Grimworm still carried the unconcious Jenna, and everyone else looked battered, but alive. They all welcomed their Captain and COmmander back, but Talaina was all business. "I'm glad you all made it, but we have to get going. Now."
  
  "Captain. Where, ah, is Ensign Wurz?"
  "She didn't make it Xui Li."
  "That is...... most upsetting. What about Trarsk?"
  Airrazor butted in. "He's a known friend to us. We got him off planet as soon as we could. He is the reason I broke cover and helped you guys out. Look, I know this is a family reunion and all, but we gotta fly. Security is already moving in, and if you wait too long, airspace will be locked down. You'll never get out. You have those coordinates?"
  "Yes."
  "Then head over there. Tell them I sent you, they'll be expecting you."
  "You're not coming with us?"
  "Duty calls. We still have things to tidy up here. Good luck Captain." Airrazor transformed into her falcon mode and took to the skies in a hurry. Ttorkkinn ushured everyone on the shuttle quickly. As Karry lifted the ship off the ground, the Saurion moved to his Captain, sat at the back and staring at Jenna. "Captain?"
  "Yes?"
  "When we get to warp, you and I need to talk."
  "I'm fine."
  "No. No you're not. You know it. And I know it."
  
  
  Talaina slowly shifted her gaze to Ttorkkinn. He was right. She wasn't ok. And they both knew it. He probably knew what she did to Gyconi. But TRIBBLE it. This galaxy didn't play by any sense of morals. It was that kind of thinking that got everyone killed. No more. Starfleet's moral code and ethics are all fine and good, but sometimes, a person must give up everything to save those they care the most for. Talaina was already working on a plan to save everyone. She didn't know how she was going to impliment it, but she would find a way. Even if she had to unravel the galaxy to do so.

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  A Romulan Strike Team, Missing Farmers and an ancient base on a Klingon Border world. But what connects them? Find out in my First Foundary mission: 'The Jeroan Farmer Escapade'

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• grylak Member Posts: 1,594 Arc User

  April 2015 edited April 2015

  Jenna walked along the corridor of the ship, clutching Lt Burkin's bear tightly to her chest. The ship kept creaking, making the ship seem haunted by those lost. She heard voices ahead. Karry and Grimworm. They were laughing. Having just been forced to fight in some sick, twisted gladiator arena, Jenna really didn't feel like laughing. They had lost yet another member. Ensign Wurz. What was wrong with the Captain? Why couldn't she stop people from dying? Wasn't it her responsibility? And though she hadn't been killed, Jenna seemed to be taking alot of the injuries. Her insides still hurt. Her bones ached. She wasn't this miserable on the failure of a colony she was born on.
  
  The wall was missing to the quarters, so Jenna could see Grimworm and Karry hugging as she walked past. They didn't see her. Good. She really wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone. It had been forty seven weeks since they had reached the edge of the Galactic disk and turned around. Forty seven weeks since they had essentially given up on ever getting home. The ship was not designed for long term missions, and it was showing it's wear. She paused by a gap in the hull. They had flown into a nebula to restock on Deuterium supplies. This one was pink, with streaks of a rich deep blue. It was pretty. It reminded Jenna of a sky as the sun came up, casting a myrid of lights over all. But... it was just another thing to worry about. Sensors were useless, so they had to search for the pockets of Deuterium by basically running into it. She hugged the bear tighter as she started walking again. There were very few of them left now. Reserves were running low. Half of the ship was either uninhabitable, or outright missing. Her friends were gone. It was times like this she would have gone and talked to Carl. But he was gone. Wiped out without a trace by the Planet Killer. Who did that leave? Karry? Too busy with Grimworm. T'Fon? An Undine with multiple personalities. Dotson? The murderer? Did anyone on this ship just have a normal story? Maybe Xui Li.
  
  
  
  As she slowly walked along, she thought about her life. About avoiding those horrible gangs on her colony. She had witnessed what they did to young women they caught. She was glad she had become good at hiding. Her parents had always loved her. Had kept her hidden. Had kept her safe. When they died, she used what they had taught her. Even now, after all this time, she still knew how to blend into the background and dissapear when she wanted to. But was this all that was left? Flying around this blasted galaxy, forever searching for a way home that will never come, until the day arrives when you meet something better than you and your search ends? What kind of a life is that? No one to talk to. No one to listen. Never seeing your home again. Never seeing your family again. Never falling in love and starting a family of your own. It was a terrible thought. But it was something she had been thinking about ever since Christmas. So it was no surprise she had ended up where she was. At the airlock. She sniffed, fondling the bear's ear as she stepped inside. There was no note. No last parting words. It would be too painful, and they would certainly stop her. And truthfully, a small part of her would let them. But she had made her decision. She had walked here without thinking. Using a phaser would not work, she would never be able to pull the trigger. But the computer would have no such considerations. It would do what needed to be done. She closed the door, tears blurring her vision so she could barely see. She blinked away what she could and started the airlock cycling routine.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  "Are you insane??" Ttorkkinn could barely believe what he just heard. He stood in Talaina's quarters, aghast at what she had just suggested. "Not only does that go against everything we were told to uphold, not only does it violate the Temporal Prime Directive, but it could unravel the space time continuum!"
  
  Talaina sat behind her desk, bags under her eyes from a complete lack of sleep. "It's the only way to save the crew." Ttorkkinn mumbled a bit as he paced. "What if we just went back to Christmas. We beam everyone who died from the past Viper onto our ship just before the Planet Killer hits. It'll look like everyone died, but we'll have them. Here, with us."
  "Ha! This ship doesn't have the ability to hold that many people. We're barely functioning with a crew of ten. Besides, we'd never hold together long enough for a slingshot."
  "But we'll have them. Safe. AND we'll have preserved the timeline."
  "And what about those crewmembers who died before Christmas? You would consign them to death, just because they weren't fortunate enough to survive as long as the others?"
  "No. I'm not saying that. But think about it Talaina." Ttorkkinn rested both palms on the table and leaned forward. " If we start messing around with the timeline, we could TRIBBLE up this entire region of space."
  "What of Ensign Redshirt? We can stop him from being murdered by T'Fon. We can help T'Fon before his mental abilities went beserk. What of Naahz and Trarsk? She would still be alive, and they would still be together. We'd simply be restoring this region of space to it's original timeline, without our interference. Because we certainly broke the Prime Directive by getting involved with these people."
  "I can't in good concience agree to a course of action that would involve the alteration of timelines. Not unless it was to set right the timeline as it should be."
  "HOW DO YOU KNOW THIS ISN'T THE WRONG TIMELINE ALREADY?!"
  
  
  Talaina paused, ashamed of her outburst. "I'm sorry. That was uncalled for."
  "It's ok. But I can not stand by you if this is your course of action."
  Before Talaina could respond, Xui Li came over the comm. "Captain! You are needed in, ah, Airlock two. NOW!"
  "What now?" Talaina and Ttorkkinn looked at each other, then ran out the door.
  
  
  
  
  At the airlock, Karry, Grimworm and Xui Li were frantically working on it. Talaina came running up. "Report."
  "It is Jenna. She has, ah, locked herself in and, ah, initiated the cycle sequence."
  "WHAT?!"
  
  
  Talaina pushed herself to the door and activated the intercom. The readout read 47 seconds left before the sequence shifted. "Jenna! What's happening?"
  
  Jenna was stood in the middle of the airlock, clutching a teddy bear. Tears streamed down her face. "I'm sorry Captain. I-I didn't want to let you down. But I can't go on like this."
  "Jenna. Open the door. We can talk about whatever's going on." Talaina looked at the timer. It still said 47. Karry explained. "Dotson was able to lock the system in a loop at that point. But we don't know how long before it kicks out her patch." Talaina nodded and looked back at Jenna. "Jenna. Everything that you've been through. That we've all been through. It's made us family. You could never let me down."
  "No. But you've let us down Sir. Everything here is out to kill us. Look at Wurz. That could easily have been me. Or you. Or Grimworm. It's constant fear. Constant pressure. I just.... can't. Knowing that one day soon, I'll be next. I'd rather go in my own way. On my own terms. Be happy Sir. At least you'll have one less person to worry about, And I'll get to see Mum and Dad again."
  
  
  Talaina started banging against the window. "JENNA! NO! ABORT THE CYCLE! PLEASE!"
  The Ensign straightened up, squeezing the bear. "Goo-"
  
  The outer door opened, sucking the young woman out into space. Talaina banged harder against the door. "NO! DAMMIT! No."
  
  She broke down in tears, watching the lifeless body tumble into the nebula. Resting her head against the door, she slowly slid down to her knees. The timer still showed 47. 47 seconds to say goodbye was not long enough. It was never enough. Ttorkkinn gently placed a hand on Talaina's shoulder, horrified. No one said anything. They hadn't seen it coming. The shock still hadn't sunk in. No one uttered a word, except for Talaina, quietly whispering. "Still think this is the right timeline?"

  *******************************************
  
  A Romulan Strike Team, Missing Farmers and an ancient base on a Klingon Border world. But what connects them? Find out in my First Foundary mission: 'The Jeroan Farmer Escapade'

  0
• grylak Member Posts: 1,594 Arc User

  April 2015 edited April 2015

  The NX class ship zipped through the gas giant's rings, weapons fire skimming past it's hull. The small vessel pulled upwards sharply, looping around a large rock. The pursuing Orion ship followed it on a lazier course, loosing track for a few seconds. This gave the old vessel chance to drop down behind and fire the Grappler, catching the pursuer. Impulse engines flared as the NX ship started corkscrewing around the rocks. The Orion ship tried to pull away, but it was just a small raider and lacked the power, being forced to go for a ride. A ride that promptly ended with the grappler detaching moments before the Orion ship slammed into a large rock. Drawing the Grappler back into her belly, the Evenstar flew away from the wreckage, still carrying the pirate boarding party.
  
  
  
  In the corridors, Marge was hiding behind a junction, shooting at the next intersection. Although they had recently added a run to New Romulus on their trade route and had been given a consignment of Romulan pistols as part of their last payment, Marge still preferred the Bajoran rifle provided when they took up permanent employment for the Bajorans. Her eye piece had been carefully calibrated for the weapon, and she had no intention of going through that again. Ramona, the blonde trill, was using one of the Romulan pistols, but was not a good shot and kept putting plasma burns in the walls. Still, it kept the two Orions contained, and Arwen had her own issues. The third member had tried to sneak up on her. Fortunately, she had her Lirpa and the two were locked in battle.
  
  
  Arwen could feel her pulse racing as she parried a blow from the attacker. She still had a long way to go for her Kolinahr training. Although she was starting to have doubts about completing it. Maybe it was too much. Maybe it was enough to just follow Surak's teachings, but still retain a bit of emotion. A hit that nearly tore her Lirpa from her grasp reminded her this was not the time for such thoughts. She swung the blunted end at the Orion's head, knocking him against the wall. While he was dazed, she quickly reached out and dropped him with a nerve pinch. If only she had been able to do that earlier.
  
  
  Glancing back, she saw Marge had successfully taken down the other two. Arwen approached her two friends. "Are you two ok?"
  "Yeah. Blasted pirates. Ramona, get to the Bridge and tell Betty to get us back on course."
  "Aye aye."
  
  As she left, one of the Orions started chuckling. Marge looked down at him, pointing her rifle. "What's got you in hysterics?"
  "You lot. You're as bad as that Jeroan slave. Always thinking you're gonna get the last laugh. When my ship sends backup, then you'll be in trouble."
  "We've already smeared your ship across an asteroid. No one's coming for you."
  "Wait.... what?"
  
  
  But something else had piped Arwen's interest. She raised an eyebrow as she knelt down. "Jeroan slave? Tell me more." The Orion looked at her. "No. I think not."
  "To refuse my request would not be logical."
  "Oooh, I'm sooooo scared. What ya gonna do? Preach at me till I talk?"
  "Why would I waste my time in such a manner? Torture is a wasteful expendature. There is a much simpler means to get what I request."
  
  
  She reached out and placed her fingers across his face. "My mind... to your mind. My mind to your mind. Our minds are one. We are one." She closed her eyes to focus on this distasteful brain. His thoughts were chaotic, undisciplined. A typical thug. The most prominant thing present was a very vivid image of what he wanted to do to her, and the rest of her crew. Barbarian. Arwen shattered that image quickly, failing to resist the mild pleasure she got as she sensed the Orion's mind break a little. She continued to float through the blurred images, the noises being tuned out. "Jeroan Slave. Where is he?" After a little more forceful probing, she finally came across the image she wanted. "Stunshock." She barely whispered his name. Her mate, the person she was engaged to, the one man in the universe who made her happy. Taken so long ago. Arwen knew better than to let her thoughts wonder in here, so she forced herself to focus. Gaining the information she needed, she started to extract herself from the mind meld, gradually shattering pieces of the Orion's mind as she did so.
  
  
  
  Arwen opened her eyes and removed her hand from his face. The Orion was on his side, tongue hanging out, drooling on the deck. Marge frowned and looked at him. "What did you do?"
  
  "He wanted to violate us in a most unpleasant manner. I simply performed my duty as Captain to ensure the safety of my crew." She looked at the other two Orions whom had come around, but were bound and left on the floor. "Do either of you wish to cause my crew any harm?" They both looked at her, then their comrade, then back to Arwen, quickly shaking their head. "Good. Marge, please escort these two to the brig." Arwen made her way to the nearest comm panel. "Bridge. Set a course for the nearest Federation starbase. Maximum warp."
  
  
  
  
  The Evenstar had docked at Starbase 375 and Arwen made her way straight to Admiral Cullen's office. The receptionist announced Arwen's arrival and the doors opened. The Vulcan entered and greeted the Admiral with the traditional salute. The Admiral smiled and indicated the chair across her desk. "Please, sit."
  "Thank you Admiral."
  
  Once both had taken their seats, Cullen clasped her hands on her desk and leaned slightly forward, a short smile on her face. "So Captain, I understand you have information about the location of some missing officers?"
  "Yes Admiral. I believe Captain Stunshock and a number of other officers taken from the U.S.S. Sentinel some time ago are currently in transit towards Klingon space."
  "I'm sure you're trustworthy Captain, but I'm not in the habit of sending off ships on wild goose chases without some kind of proof."
  "I obtained the information from an Orion pirate that attempted to board my vessel. Time is critical."
  "And how can you be sure this information is trustworthy?"
  "I obtained it via mind meld."
  
  
  Cullen leaned back in her chair and dropped her hands into her lap, but still clasped. "I see. Forcefully extracting information from a captive? Not exactly an ethical thing to do." Arwen was completely unfazed. "They boarded my ship and threatened my crew. I took what actions I felt was relevant. May I remind you Captain, I am not a member of Starfleet. I am not bound by what Starfleet deems acceptible force, when out in deep space, beyond Federation borders."
  "No. No, you are not." Cullen took in a deep breath and held it while she thought about it. "Ok Captain. I expect the prisoners to be handed over to my security forces here on the base."
  "Of course. I do not want them on my ship any longer than is neccessary. Does this mean you will send a ship out to locate the transport?"
  
  
  Cullen narrowed an eye at Arwen, judging how trustworthy she was. "Yes. The Typhon is currently docked here. I'll dispatch them to the coordinates immediately."
  "Thank you Admiral. I request permission to join them."
  "Why?"
  "Captain Stunshock... is a close friend. I wish to be present to aid in his rescue any way I can."
  "No. I thank you for bringing this information to my attention, but as you just pointed out, you are not Starfleet. Of course, if you want to take your ship out there yourself, I certainly can't stop you. But I get the feeling if that was an option, you would have done that already. Guessing the transport ship is heavily armed? Too much for your ship?"
  "That is a correct assesment Admiral. And I understand your position. I expected that answer, but I had to ask. If I am allowed to remain here at the Starbase until they return, I would appreciate it."
  "Of course. In fact, I would prefer you would."
  
  
  Arwen nodded and stood up. "Then I await the Typhon's return."
  
  
  
  
  
  Arwen stood beside the window, looking out towards Klingon space. Marge sat on a couch nearby, drink in hand. Neither said anything. Marge knew her friend well enough to know nothing she said could put her at ease. Arwen was standing stoic, hands clasped behind her her, but Marge knew she was wracked with nerves. Aprehension. Though it had been some time, Arwen had never stopped loving Stunshock. Had never given up hope that they would be together again. Marge admired that level of dedication. Especially from a Vulcan, even one that hadn't had the life long training of supressing emotions. Maybe one day Marge would find someone like that. But eh, she was happy without. But for her friend's sake, she hoped the Typhon was successful.
  
  
  
  Arwen just kept staring. Hundreds of thoughts raced through her mind. Would they find him? Would he be ok? Would he be the same man she loved, or would he have suffered some mental trauma? Why was it taking so long? Why hadn't they heard anything? The wait was killing her. But she had to be strong. Or at least patient. She ached to call the Admiral and ask for an update. But it would be futile. Even if she had an update, she probably wouldn't share.
  
  
  Finally, a flash of light indicated a ship dropping out of warp. The Typhon carrier ship entered proximity of the starbase and moved into the docking area. Arwen turned from the window. "They have arrived." Without waiting to see if Marge was following, Arwen quickly made her way to the docking bay. The ship was already offloading crew, and there had been no sign of physical damage to the ship. She quickly paused by a Bolian ensign. "Excuse me. I understand you were on a mission to rescue Starfleet officers. Were you successful?"
  "Yes. We recovered a good number of them."
  "Thank you."
  
  
  She quickly turned her head, seeing the brown bald head of Stunshock moving in the crowd. Even from the back, his head horns were distinct. Or at least, they were distinct enough to identify his species. But what were the odd of there being another Jeroan in this crowd. Arwen's heart skipped. Her stomach felt light and fluttery as she called to him. She almost leapt for joy when he turned, confirming it was him!
  
  "By Grethon's Beard!" Stunshock's face exploded in a huge grin as he started pushing towards the Vulcan. The two met and instantly embraced each other tightly, squeezing each other tighter than anyone would think possible. They remained like that for a long time, long enough for everyone else to leave the area. Finally alone, Arwen lifted her head back slightly to look at Stunshock, but kept hugging him. "I love you Stunny. I have missed you dearly."
  
  "The thought of you was the only thing that kept me going in those prisons. I never want to leave your side again."
  "I do not want you to. But if you take command of a ship-"
  "I'm leaving Starfleet."
  "What?"
  "I'm leaving Starfleet. All it can do is keep me away from you. And I've had enough time apart. I'm moving onto the Evenstar."
  
  Arwen didn't know what to say. This was the best day since Stunshock proposed on Risa. She moved in and kissed him passionately, letting his long claws run up her back. In this moment, she lost her training. She was just happy to have him back for good.

  *******************************************
  
  A Romulan Strike Team, Missing Farmers and an ancient base on a Klingon Border world. But what connects them? Find out in my First Foundary mission: 'The Jeroan Farmer Escapade'

  0
• grylak Member Posts: 1,594 Arc User

  April 2015 edited April 2015

  Captain's Log. The U.S.S. Tesla has entered the Risa system to perform an indepth analysis of the spatial anomaly the U.S.S. Sentinel discovered around the first moon some time ago. I donnae know why it's taken Starfleet so long to send a ship out here, but it's a nice assignment for our first mission.
  
  
  
  Captain Imzavia looked around the bridge of her Nova class ship, stroking the arms of her chair. This was her first command and she was determined to perform well. After all, there were plenty of warships out fighting the good fight, but there weren't too many Starfleet ships that focused on science and exploration these days. She looked over to the Science station, where her First Officer, a Trill female of the name Emony Bearlo, was manning the sensors. Emony had recently come back to the fleet after an extended leave and had requested a position off the front lines. Imzavia felt a little funny having a First Officer a couple of years older than herself, but she valued the expertese and experience. "Anything on sensors, Commander?"
  
  Emony shook her head. "No Sir. All readings from the first moon are normal, as expected. On the Sentinel, we had to get close to the lunar surface before we started to feel the resistance from the anomaly."
  
  Imzavia nodded and looked towards her helm officer. "Joses. Take us closer to the moon, but keep at least 10km away. I don't want us getting trapped."
  
  "Si Captain. Keeping our distance."
  
  The Tesla moved close to the moon. Still nothing appeared on sensors. "Commander, launch a probe at the coordinates. Let's see if we can get some readings." The probe flew up to the coordinates and started scanning all spectral bands. On the Bridge, Emony poured over the data. "Captain, telemetry is coming in strong. All readings are normal."
  "Are we sure there's still somethin' there to pick up?"
  "No Sir. But the probe may be too small to trigger it. I suggest we launch a shuttlecraft. It should be large enough to trigger the event."
  
  At tactical, Lt. Commander Derek Peck leaned on his console. "I don't recommend that. A shuttle may be too small to get through in one piece."
  Emony retorted. "The original discovery was made in a runabout. I think a shuttle should be enough. May I suggest we take the Waverider? It's structural integrity is better than a standard shuttle."
  Peck nodded in agreement. Imzavia smiled. Her crew seemed to be working well together. That was a good sign for the future. "Bearlo. Peck. You two take the Waverider. Keep in constant communication with us. And contact Serenity Station. Tell them to have someone standing by with the Transwarp Gate, just in case you get stuck."
  
  
  
  
  Emony and Derek sat at the controls of the small ship, Emony on sensors and Derek piloting. With permission to depart granted, the ship released the docking clamps and dropped away from the underside of the Primary hull. The engines powered up and glided easily over to the probe. "Ok Commander, we should encounter a sudden stop in this area. Keep crossing around until we find it."
  "Aye Sir."
  
  The Waverider started flying back and forth in a standard grid search pattern. Suddenly the ship jolted to a stop. Emony looked out of the window at the closeness of the moon. She could see all the various nooks and impact craters. From this distance, it looked close enough to reach out and touch. She spoke through the comm. "Waverider to Tesla. We've encountered the invisible wall. We're going to start ramping up our speed until we punch through."
  "Copy that Waverider. Good luck."
  "Thank you Captain. Peck, increase speed to full impulse. You should feel the ship start to slowly slide around in the spot before we punch through."
  "Increasing speed. Now at full impulse. I don't think it's working."
  "It'll work. Just... how to describe this? You have to.... smoosh the nose around. It's difficult to do."
  
  
  Suddenly the ship lurched and Peck slammed on the brakes. Both officers looked out the window. The moons were gone. The planet was gone. The stars were gone. Even the blackness was gone. They were surrounded by empty blue. Every direction was simply blue with nothing else. Emony checked the sensors. "Well done. We've got through. Waverider to Tesla. Do you read us?" There was a pause before she tried again. Still no response. "It looks like this region is interfering with our comms."
  "Can you patch it through the probe on the other side? That should act as a signal booster."
  
  After a few moments, Imzavia's voice came through, but distorted with static. "Waverider? Can you hear us?"
  "Yes Captain. Peck and I are ok. We've broken through the barrier and are now in the Blue Dimension."
  "You're signal is very poor. Can you boost the gain on the bandwidth?"
  "Attempting." Emony's gloved hands danced over the console. "Any better?"
  
  Though there was still some static, it was drastically improved. "We can hear you much better now Bearlo. What's your status?"
  "All systems are ok. We're beginning our survey of the area."
  "Copy that. Keep in touch."
  
  
  The next few hours were spent taking scans of the area. The region was very peculiar. With no distinguishing features visible, they dropped a navigation beacon before moving off, so they could find their way back to the initial entry point. Though there appeared to be no indication of movement, not even a lag in the inertial dampeners, the beacon was moving away from them. Emony was glued to the sensor readouts. "This is amazing! Look at our position report. The computer still thinks we're in the Risa system. We've flown through the second moon. But yet, there's nothing here. This must be some kind of subspace, underneath, or, or displaced from our own dimension. It seems to be a vacuum outside. Not seeing any evidence of anything else in here. Ok Peck, I think we've got enough information for this trip. Let's get back."
  
  "I've already taken us back. There's nothing here. No wall to bump against."
  "There has to be. The passageway can't just be one way."
  "I've been flying around here while you were taking those scans. Believe me, there ain't no hole or wall to fly through."
  "Damn. Waverider to Tesla. Can you hear us?"
  
  The Captain's voice came over the com. "Tesla here. What's your status?"
  "We've completed the first round of scans, but we appear to have become trapped."
  "Och. I thought something like this would happen. Hold tight Commanders, we're contacting Serenity Station. What's your position?"
  "We're holding position directly beside the nav marker we dropped when we came in. Sending coordinates through. I've also launched a probe to remain on this side of the barrier to record it's findings."
  "Got them. Hold tight."
  "Standing by."
  
  
  Emony and Peck waited in silence, watching the blinking light on the nav beacon. Peck started tapping his fingers on the console. Emony cast a quick glance over, but didn't say anything. He didn't look like the kind of guy you wanted to annoy. She went back to studying the sensor readings. Peck started blowing air out his mouth. "What's taking them so long?"
  "Hmm?"
  "How long does it take to open a Transwarp conduit? They have our position."
  "Yes, but those coordinates are in normal space. We're not in normal space. They probably have to switch the interspatial values through all the different dimensions of subspace until they find this one. That's not an easy thing to adjust on the gate. And then for each one, they've got to check to see if we're there."
  "I see." Peck looked at Emony. "You're a bit of a smart cookie. You joined?"
  
  Emony blushed slightly. "Thank you, but no. I'm not. I studied everything the hard way. That's why I've declined the joining. I didn't want the answers given to me."
  "Ah. Do things yourself. I like that. Not enough people are like that these days."
  "Is that why you joined Tactical? So you could be hands on?"
  "Yep. That and I don't exactly have the brain for science. Or engineering. But hell, you want something blown up, that I'm an expert in."
  "You must be regretting not getting assigned to a front line ship then."
  "Hey, someone has to protect the Tesla. May as well be me. And I bet no one on the front line ships has seen this Blue Universe. Or has such a cute co-pilot."
  
  
  Emony blushed again and looked back to her sensor readings sheepishly. Peck knew he'd embarrassed her, and decided to just go for it. "I don't suppose you'd fancy grabbing a drink when we get out of here?"
  "Oh.... errr.... thank you.... I'm flattered, really..... but.... I'm married."
  "Oh. Sorry. Forget I asked. Stupid me. That's what I get for trying to be more upfront."
  
  
  The two sat in awkward silence for a bit until Peck cleared his throat and took an unnatural interest in the navigation systems. Emony smiled and went back to her sensor readings.
  
  After what seemed like an eternity, there was a flash of light in front of them and a transwarp corridor opened in front of them. From the other end, a voice all too familiar to Emony came through.
  
  
  "Commander Bearlo. This is Lt Gweevle on Serenity Station. Can you hear me?"
  "Gweevle? This is Emony. It's good to hear your voice."
  Gweevle seemed to talk to someone beside him for a moment. "Yes Sir. We've located them." After a pause, he addressed Emony again. "Commander, we've got the gate open. Come through when you can."
  "Copy that Serenity. Coming through now."
  
  
  The Waverider went through the conduit. In a flash of light, they emerged back into normal space, out of the Transwarp Gate Firefly Fleet had constructed. Serenity Station was the home starbase of Firefly Fleet, located near the Badlands. Emony knew it well, as the Sentinel had been part of Firefly Fleet some time ago. Before them was the majestic station itself. Emony got back on the comms. "Serenity Station, this is Commander Bearlo. We've made it back with no injuries. Thank you for the assistance."
  
  The voice that replied was not someone Emony recognised. "Copy that Commander. Glad we could help. We've let the Tesla know you're both safe, and they will head out here to pick you up as soon as they finish the scans on their end. Meanwhile, you're welcome to make use of the station facilities."
  "Thank you Serenity. Glad to be back."
  
  The comm cut and Emony looked to Peck. "Head for the shuttlebay. Looks like we'll be here for a while. You know, they have a chef on the promenade, made the worst food you've ever had. Whatever you ordered, he would fry it, even a salad. But there was something about him that made him instantly likeable. I wonder if he's still around."

  *******************************************
  
  A Romulan Strike Team, Missing Farmers and an ancient base on a Klingon Border world. But what connects them? Find out in my First Foundary mission: 'The Jeroan Farmer Escapade'

  0
• hawku001x Member Posts: 10,758 Arc User

  April 2015 edited April 2015

  The Akira-class U.S.S. Hijinx approached Spacedock. Ships of all shapes and sizes trafficked the area, a-buzz of daily operations and adventure endcaps.
  
  "What a ride! Who knew about that whole thing with the Iconians? Am I right?" Captain Andrea Reynolds commented in finality.
  
  Lieutenant Bo turned from the helm and shrugged. "It feels like they've been ramping up to something forever. Well, it's over now."
  
  "Is it, though? Will it ever be?" Lane asked from tactical.
  
  Reynolds nodded. "Make a note for us to never encounter them again."
  
  "Captain Reynolds," came a voice from the view screen. "Hello. I am Crewman Kereg from Starfleet Academy. I'm a temporary intern here and I broke in to your ship's systems in order to communicate with you."
  
  The Captain did a double-take. "Why didn't you just hail us?"
  
  "My intention was to impress you with my skills in order to expedite receptiveness."
  
  Reynolds stood up. "Well, Crewman, you've succeeded, despite the fact I'm legally obligated to report you and have you stripped of your uniform."
  
  "I had a good run. Anyway, the reason I'm calling is because Captain Seifer was slated as a guest speaker for one of our forums, but due to some unfortunate happenings with his crew coming back from the dead and an odd Winter Wonderland adventure, he is unable to make it in time."
  
  She nodded again. "Yeah, you dodged a phaser beam there. But, I have no desire to be an assumed role model of sorts at all? In fact, I offer the wrong advice to my crew, daily, to keep them on their toes."
  
  "--Great, Captain. You said I should ask Gerry out, and he turned out to be such a jerk! My emotions! Uggh," Jolene complained, entering the Bridge.
  
  Reynolds turned back to the view screen. "You see? She should've been less trusting of her superior officer."
  
  "That's fine, ma'am. We'll take on what we can get. Besides, if Lieutenant Ferra catches me failing in my duty again, I'll never get sold! He makes us clean the hairballs out of his uniforms."
  
  The Captain arched her head. "What? --Never mind. --Yes, fine. I will do this. But, no, I am not changing my uniform at Spacedock. I'm certain that Cardassian tailor is a spy of some sort. I mean, come on."
  
  ---
  
  Later, Reynolds and Bo beamed down to Starfleet Academy and were met with Commander Meyer upon the commencement of a hasty corridor trek.
  
  "I'm thankful that you could make it, Captain. The students at this forum are looking forward to hearing of your in-field experience. Do you see a lot of particles where you go? That's mostly what I'm interested in, personally," Meyer conversed.
  
  Despite the quick pace, Reynolds gave him an odd look. "Yes?"
  
  "Fascinating; just fascinating!" he replied. "Also, how wonderful is it that we have a Betazoid at the Academy? All other Betazoid officers have been re-assigned in the past month-- not to mention, any Ullians, Aenars, and Cairns-- for reasons of coincidence, is my guess. I don't know. I'm mostly focused on the particles."
  
  ---
  
  At the door to the hall, they were met with Jeffery Scharf, who was holding a padd with a list of guest speakers.
  
  "Aren't you the bartender?" Reynolds asked.
  
  Scharf activated his padd. "Staff's been a bit spotty, lately. Though, I can get you a drink. --Oroku Seifer, right?"
  
  "Andrea Reynolds," she corrected in half disbelief. "You mean this whole time Seifer's Trill host name was Oroku? I had no idea."
  
  Bo turned to her. "Did you know Uhura's first name was Nyota?"
  
  "What??"
  
  But as her shock erupted, she was quickly pushed out onto stage. With nothing prepared and no idea what to talk about, she was unsure at what to say.
  
  "Ahem," she started at the audience of students. "I'm Captain Andrea Reynolds of the Federation Starship Hijinx. As you know, in-field work is riddled with crazy floating head aliens and homicidal, one-dimensional, leather-bound villians-- Some of which are British in translated-accent. For those not familiar with canon, their personalities and dialogue are dumbed dow---"
  
  But then it was at that moment she could sense it: The students in the audience were not who they appeared to be. They were altered somehow. Her Betazoid mind-reading began picking up suppressed thoughts of deception, multiplied by the seat.
  
  "By the rip-torn pants of Kirk?! You're all being controlled by Bluegill neural parasites???" she announced over the air, unintentionally giving up any tactical advantage.
  
  All the students stood up, simultaneously in shock. But, before they could escape, a force field stretched around the seating area, trapping the students inside!
  
  Out, from the other end of the stage, Admiral Herthel stepped, clapping the slow clap in appreciation for Reynold's efforts. "Bravo, bravo, Captain! We suspected this batch was infected, after hundreds upon hundreds of ships returned from the Delta Quadrant, from teaming up with Eldex on Kartella Prime-- But, after all the telepaths at the Academy were reassigned, we weren't sure. You see, our tricorders are all out at the shop."
  
  "How was a Trill supposed to help you in this?"
  
  Herthel nodded at the rational question. "We were going to let them infect Seifer, and watch the symbiont/Bluegill stomach-battle of the century, but your arrival facilitated a less messy, less abdomen-explosive solution. It's fine, I guess," he sighed in half-disappointment. "It's mostly fine."
  
  "Neural parasites at Starfleet?? Who'd ever have thought??" Bo stepped out in complete and honest shock. "Well, clearly it's never been done before. Clever plan. Just plain clever."
  
  Reynolds turned back to Herthel. "Well, I'm still here if you'd like me to continue my lecture with any un-parasitic students, if they exist."
  
  "Huh? Oh, we don't ever need in-field lectures on those kinds of experiences. Starfleet installs cameras throughout all starships for perfect high definition replay. You ever see the footage from Spock's death scene aboard the amazingly refit Enterprise? It's like it was edited by a professional, but in reality, the playback shots were chosen at random by the computer."
  
  Captain Reynolds rolled her eyes in lost patience. "You know what? Next time you need me to save the Academy-- and you will-- I'd appreciate a call first! Thanks."
  
  To that, she and her subordinate left the increasingly student-moan-sounding/forcefield-slap-noisy arena. Herthel shrugged and turned to watch his catch of drone-like students stumbling all over each other.

  

  USS Phoenix-X Literary Index | Comics | Most recent story: "The Opposite of That"

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• cmdrscarlet Member Posts: 5,137 Arc User

  April 2015 edited April 2015

  Stranger than Fiction
  
  The ship almost glowed in the darkness of space. The grey dull metallic color of the boxy hull contrasted sharply against the neon green of the dominating figure. The eagle’s head crested the bow of the ship and its wings embraced both sides to the oversized engine ports. A central spire rose from the hull and was the bridge of the ship. Any elegance of the eagle was marred by the utilitarianism of the rest of the ship.
  
  Kathryn looked at it from the conference room with both fascination and worry.
  
  Anthi rested an arm on the viewport ledge. "Ugly thing, if I do say so myself."
  
  Kathryn did not look away. "Ugly or not, the crew are human and that's ... bothersome."
  
  "What do you think about that?"
  
  Solaris had been on standard patrol routes in the Beta Quadrant. Having a Transwarp Drive meant it was easier to pull the ship to various duties on short notice. Kathryn shrugged. "We're in the Delta Quadrant and that means there is stranger out here than I care to count. I don't know what to think of that at this point."
  
  The door chimed before they swished open. A giant human male confidently entered the room. His feet were sandaled with bare upper legs covered by a leather-like green loincloth. His bare chest was crossed by leather straps connected to ornate pauldrons on each shoulder. A bright golden helmet covered his head and had golden metal wings flaring from the sides. He carried a golden-tipped trident. After a few steps into the room he tapped the trident onto the floor then raised both arms wide.
  
  "Greetings! I am Dorykone, captain of the sacred guard. Hail, Torsis, herald to the Preservers of Truth. Speak when spoken to or perish." He lowered his arms and stepped aside.
  
  Kathryn and Anthi looked to each other, astonished at the man's opening words.
  
  A small, grey-haired man with a hunched back walked into the room. His cane quietly tapped against the carpeted floor. He wore a long turquoise-colored robe that shimmered as he moved. With long greying hair that crowned a balding head, his face twisted into annoyance when he looked up to Dorykone, then transformed into a friendly smile when he saw Kathryn.
  
  "Oh my, you are more beautiful in person!"
  
  Kathryn blushed a little from the sudden informality. She recognized Torsis from the initial contact with the ship and she agreed privately that the main viewscreen did not always accurately represent a person's visage for he looked older now. She bowed her head slightly. "Herald Torsis, welcome aboard the Federation vessel Solaris."
  
  Torsis looked to the ceiling and squinted an eye. "Ah, Latin for pertaining to the sun. Interesting name for a starship, don't you think?"
  
  Kathryn raised her eyebrows. "It's not typical nomenclature, yet it was not my choice."
  
  "And what name do you believe this fine ship deserves?"
  
  Waving to a nearby chair to offer it for her guest, Kathryn said, "I've never really thought about an alternate name, it just seems fitting to me now."
  
  Walking slowly toward the chair, Torsis lifted his cane and pointed toward his ship floating in space. "That boat is called the Ocean Rider. It's not comfortable, but I didn't expect it should be for its maiden voyage." Sitting, he grunted a little as he made the chair comfortable by wiggling into it. Dorykone strode to stand vigilant behind the chair, which caused further annoyance to Torsis.
  
  "If I may Torsis, that is a beautiful name and fitting since you are a descendant of ... Atlantis?"
  
  The old man smiled broadly. "Thank you, I named the ship myself so the compliment is rewarding." He looked around the room and settled on the Andorian First Officer. "It seems the galaxy is much larger, and prettier, than we thought."
  
  Anthi shifted a little in her seat and Kathryn placed a hand on the table as a signal to Anthi. They developed various gestures to help with communication in formal settings. Kathryn disliked keeping her XO on task, but Torsis seemed to be crossing an informal line and Kathryn wanted to steer the conversation in a particular direction.
  
  "About that, the Federation has segmented the galaxy into four quadrants. We are currently in the Delta Quadrant, where the Federation and its allies have started exploring with more ease and intensity. Correct me if I'm wrong, but your people come from Atlantis?"
  
  Torsis smile waned a little. "Our capital city and planet share the name. Ocean Rider is our first successful attempt at faster-than-light travel. We were surprised to bump into you and your ship. It's a very pleasant surprise, don't get me wrong."
  
  Kathryn smiled a little as she decided to abandon formality to get to the point of her concern. "Torsis, are your people ... human?"
  
  The old man's smile disappeared. He turned his head to speak to Dorykone. "Leave us."
  
  The order surprised the large guard. "But Herald, I -"
  
  Torsis raised his hand to interrupt but said nothing. Dorykone stood strait and looked forward. "As you command." He turned and left the room, leaving the three to sit quietly until the doors closed.
  
  "To answer the question, yes, we are."
  
  Kathryn pressed on. "From ... Atlantis?"
  
  Torsis nodded, then shook his head. "Not in the mythical sense. The reason I had Dorykone leave the room was because the Preservers of Truth guard our greatest secret: his ancestors are from Earth."
  
  There was a pause before Kathryn raised her eyebrows and sat forward in her chair.
  
  "We created a culture based on the myth of a great and 'perfect' civilization."
  
  Kathryn shook her head. "There are so many questions ..."
  
  "Why would we do that? Because Earth culture was ravaged by conflict and despair, so much so that it only took a few months for the members Colony Six to choose to leave Earth after the Tunisia Incident of 1947."
  
  Anthi cleared her throat.
  
  Torsis continued and spoke with excitement as if he couldn't hold back the story, "the colony's scientists were able to create a Tachyon wormhole large enough to transport the entire station. Luckily, we arrived in orbit above a habitable planet. The entire population went on-world and solemnly vowed to start over." He waved his arms in front of him to show off the product of the tale. His smile was prideful.
  
  Kathryn looked to Anthi who affect was blank. She could not blame Anthi if she didn't believe Torsis, yet she couldn't waste time with her own incredulity. Grasping for a reply, Kathryn replayed the story in her head and very little made sense.
  
  "I'm curious, what’s the population of Atlantis?"
  
  Surprised by the question, Torsis recovered quickly. "Oh, close to three million by now?"
  
  Anthi voiced what Kathryn thought immediately. "Three million? How is that possible within five hundred years?"
  
  "Well, as you know, the typical colony housed up to four-hundred thousand persons. So, given enough time-", he leaned forward, looked to Kathryn and grinned, "- and the proper motivation to procreate, then a healthy population can grow." He jerked a thumb toward the door and snarled. "It seems we have some very healthy children. He could use a mate to help relax."
  
  "Yes, indeed. Please forgive my impertinence Torsis, but you mentioned earlier that the greatest secret to your culture was guarded by 'Preservers of Truth'?"
  
  Relaxing back into the chair, Torsis nodded. "It is ironic, don’t you think? Atlanteans hold the idea of honesty and truth to others above all else, yet the wise few keep the highest truth from ... everyone."
  
  Anthi replied, again speaking Kathryn's thoughts. "Why are you telling us about this?"
  
  Torsis looked surprised. "Because you are not Atlantean. I'm sure the Federation has a non-interference policy of some sort?"
  
  Nodding, the Captain replied slowly. "Of some sort, yes."
  
  Torsis beamed. "Good! The first from the colony worked very hard to rebuild a civilization founded on higher principles of benevolence toward each other, based on a model that never existed, yet was ideal."
  
  Something about the Herald's story was not adding up at all. He was clearly human and declared he was coming from an mythical human civilization ... then Kathyn became inspired.
  
  "Torsis, the culture you escaped from, did it have a name?"
  
  "The Terran Hegemony. Clearly, it has been overthrown and replaced by the Federation?"
  
  Kathryn looked to Anthi who reflected her own surprise. Turning back to Torsis, she said, "it is ... complicated. Well, I think it's time for a small break. If you wish I can have you escorted to our lounge or dining area?"
  
  Torsis smiled and tapped his cane onto the floor. Dorykone stepped into the room calmly and bowed his head. "Yes, that would be delightful! Would either of you lovely ladies be joining me?" He looked to Dorykone then scowled. "I meant us?"
  
  "I do apologize, Anthi and I must attend to other duties. Can we meet again in one hour?"
  
  "I am looking forward to then. Thank you for your courtesy, Captain." Torsis turned and slowly exited the room.
  
  Kathryn looked to Anthi. "Thoughts?"
  
  Anthi's antennae twitched. "Alternate reality, or ... some other less-respectful option."
  
  "Like I said, it's stranger out here than I care to count."

  Kathryn S. Beringer - Endless Excelsior - Veritatum Liquido Cernerne - a proud off-meta build
  
  

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• grylak Member Posts: 1,594 Arc User

  April 2015 edited April 2015

  Captain Talaina Kazzur stood outside Airlock Two, staring through the window. "I don't blame you. And I forgive you." She watched the stars outside the viewport streak past at low warp. Where were they going now? It didn't matter. There was no final destination. There was no hope. Footsteps coming from her left brought T'Fon, respectively keeping his distance. Talaina didn't turn as she spoke softly. "Yes, T'Fon?"
  
  "Captain, I have completed those calculations you asked for. But... I am perplexed as to why you would wish it."
  "Hope, T'Fon. Simple hope." Talaina took the offered PADD and put it behind her back, not even bothering to look at it.
  
  "Captain, it is not healthy for you to be here every day. I understand you are in mourning, but the rest of the crew require your presence."
  "They really don't. T'Fon, I've been in mourning since Christmas. We lost ninety percent of our crew in an instant. And the few survivors have slowly been fading away. To be killed in action is bad enough. But to take her own life? Can you imagine what was going on in her mind? To be that desperate? I- To be honest, I understand. But in these dark days, we all need hope to cling to, no matter how small. This, T'Fon. This is my hope. Thank you."
  
  T'Fon remained a moment longer, before turning and walking away. He was concerned for her mental health. He would have to speak to Ttorkkinn about it.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ttorkkinn sat at helm, having volunteered to take over Jenna's role. While at warp, it was a fairly easy job, he knew in combat he was never going to be able to live up to the stunts Jenna was able to pull. He remembered once on the Sentinel, she had basically made the entire ship power slide. He had seen the visual logs from one of the other ships in that engagement. Seeing a Soverign class cruiser kick it's tail out and sweep through all those fighters, flipping around to point it's belly upwards at the same time... she had a skill like no other. Ttorkkinn was going to be lucky to pull off a barrel roll. Xui Li's console started beeping, prompting the Saurian to turn towards her.
  
  "Commander, I am, ah, picking up a distress call from, ah, a nearby system."
  "Let's hear it."
  
  The voice was filled with static, either damage on their end or his, Ttorkkinn didn't know. But he recognised the mechanical slant to the voice. It was a Cybertronian call.
  
  "This is Jetfire call******** attack! Dece********ter the Space Bridge. We can't hold out********"
  
  Ttorkkin leaned back in his chair. If there was a Cybertronian attack going on nearby, they should probably avoid it. He started plotting a course away from the system. Xui Li nervously shifted. "Commander? Are we not, ah, going to assist?"
  
  "How? You've seen how much bigger their ships are than us. Even in perfect condition, the Viper would be heavily outgunned."
  
  Xui Li said nothing. She just grimaced and turned back to her console. Talaina entered the Bridge, but kept standing. "Report." Ttorkkinn inputted the course correction as he replied.
  
  
  "We picked up a Cybertronian distress call from a nearby system. I've plotted a course away from it."
  "Take us there."
  Ttorkkinn paused and slowly turned around. "Excuse me?"
  "Take us to that system. We help out the Autobots, maybe they'll help us out."
  "Captain, may I remind you how badly those things hunted us when we first arrived. May I also remind you that you yourself, not too long ago, made the decision NOT to help these things."
  "It's different now. I let things get too desperate. If I need to make a deal with the devil, then so be it. If it keeps the rest of you safe."
  "Captain, I strongly disagree with this course of action."
  "Your disagreement is duly noted. Anyone else want to object, it will be noted in the ship's log."
  
  
  After a pause, T'Fon and Grimworm both raised their hands.
  
  "Duly noted. Commander, lay in a course to that signal. Best speed."
  
  
  
  
  The Viper dropped from warp in deep space. Before them was a station floating outside a star system. The only illumination came from the fires burning on it's hull and the flash of weapons fire as numerous small fighters zipped around outside, shooting at each other. Talaina sat in her chair as she ordered a status report. At Tactical, Grimworm gave the report. "A couple of small fighters engaged around the station perimeter. No organic lifesigns on the station, can't get a read on any Cybertronian lifesigns. Sensors are either too damaged, or not calibrated."
  "Can you identify Decepticon fighters?"
  
  "Yes Sir. They have a slightly different energy signature."
  "Red Alert. Ttorkkinn, take us in. Target Decepticon fighters. Grimworm, fire at will. We're done being passive in this galaxy."
  "I still protest this course of action Sir."
  "Noted Ttorkkinn. Engage."
  
  
  The Viper moved into the fray, swerving around the weapons fire. Locking onto a jet that transformed into a humanoid robot, the Starfleet ship unleashed the full fury of it's phaser cannons. The Decepticon was shooting at the station when his back tore open. He had a few moments of recognition before he exploded. Viper swept through the fireball and curved around, firing at another robot. But they were quick to react, switching into triangular jets and blasting away in a wide arc. Two of them came down from above, missiles tearing into the Viper's shields. The ship lazily flipped up onto it's side as it tried to dodge more missiles, but they connected.
  
  
  
  Talaina held onto her chair arms as an explosion brought down part of the roof at the back of the Bridge, destroying the sensor table. "Ttorkkinn! EVASIVE!"
  "Helm controls are sluggish! I'm doing the best I can."
  "More weapons coming in. BRACE!"
  
  Ttorkkinn tried to dodge, but most of them impacted the ship. Grimworm reported shields were down. A loud thump rang out from the rear of the ship. Grimworm let out a worried yelp. "One of the Decepticons has landed on our hull. He's shooting at our port nacelle." Ttorkkinn desperately tried to shake him loose, but more explosions showed how badly he failed.
  
  "I can't shake him off!"
  
  Outside, the Decepticon, being able to hazard a guess at what the engines were, continued to shoot at the port nacelle, his feet clamped down to lock him into the hull. Charging up a powerful blast, he unleashed it at the nacelle at point blank range. The nacelle exploded, taking the port side of the ship with it. The weapons along that side left a burning trail as the ship spiralled out of control, the Decepticon having been knocked off by the blast. Quickly shaking his head, he transformed to his jet mode and flew back towards them, switching to robot mode at the last instant to land on the hull. He began targetting the starboard nacelle.
  
  
  
  
  Clawing herself upright, Talaina demanded a report. Grimworm let her know the nacelle was gone, along with the port side weapons. Seeing Ttorkkinn immobile on the floor, Talaina made her way to the Helm and brought the ship around. "He wants to play rough, we'll let him play rough." The Viper moved quickly towards the station, at the last second flipping over and skimming past the hull with mere metres to spare.
  
  
  The Decepticon looked up in time to see the wall about to smack him. The impact drove him off the Viper and spiralling back out into space, not much more than a collection of pistons and wires left. Viper swung back around and saw there was only one largish guy left. A couple of Quantum Torpedos streaked towards him, tearing through his armour. Talaina let out a sigh of relief as the area seemed to quieten down. Xui Li reported they were receiving an audio hail.
  
  
  "Unknown vessel. This is Jetfire. I don't know who you are, but thank you."
  "Jetfire, this is Talaina Kazzur of the U.S.S. Viper. What's the situation?"
  "We've got a boarding party on board, and most of our scientists are dead. Any ground support you can provide would be greatly appreciated."
  "We'll see what we can do. Where's your hanger bay?"
  "The opening at the central point of the central axis. We're holed up in the control room at the top of the station. The Decepticons are located near the array at the other end."
  "Copy that. We'll move towards your position."
  
  
  It was only now that Talaina really looked at the station. A cylinder with a large box set at one end, with a curved outer bar half way down. At the bottom of the station was a series of large curves, as if it were a large claw cupping a central spire. Energy occasionally crackled along the claw and leapt from one claw part to another. Talaina steered the Viper into the shuttlebay, discovering a group of Decepticons standing over executed prisoners. One of them spotted the ship hovering and they all turned and opened fire. Viper took heavy damage, the front of the ship getting torn up badly as Talaina started swaying the ship sideways. "GRIM! Target and destroy!"
  
  
  The shuttle bay lit up with weapons fire crossing back and forth. Viper had the heavier firepower, but in her damaged state, was unable to utilise it properly. It took a few minutes before the cover the Decepticons had hid behind was destroyed and the soldiers were chewed up. With one survivor, he aimed and fired a large missile, clearing the launch tube as a Quantum torpedo struck him in the face. The missile flew true, slamming into the nose of Viper. Everyone was thrown into chaos as the Deflector was destroyed, taking the nose and remaining phaser cannons with it. Viper lurched backwards, smashing into the deck and skidding across the floor. The remaining underside was torn away as her rear hit some stacked crates, causing them to collapse on the ship.
  
  
  
  Talaina slowly came to. Her left leg numbly ached, but she could move it so it wasn't broken. Ttorkkinn and Grimworm had also come to and were checking on T'Fon and Xui Li. "Everyone ok?"
  "Everyone on the Bridge is." Ttorkkinn looked over to Talaina. "But I don't think Viper is going to be flying again."
  "Get below deck and check on the rest. Make sure they stay with the ship. And tell Karry to gear up. I'm taking the TRT out."
  
  
  
  The team, consisting of Talaina, Ttorkkinn, Grimworm and Karry emerged from the wreck, carefully picking their way around the crates. A white Cybertronian with panels emerging from either side of his head was running around the room. He paused when he spotted the officers. "Hey! You guys ok?" The panels flashed in unison with his voice. Talaina nodded.
  
  "We'll live. We picked up your distress-"
  "I know. You came here to help. Jetfire sent me to get you up to the control room. The Combaticons are heading this way and trust me, we want to be gone."
  "We still have crew members in the ship." The Autobot looked at the crates a moment.
  "They'll be ok, as long as they stay inside. You're smaller than I thought you'd be. Come on, I'll give you guys a ride."
  
  As the Autobot transformed into a car, Talaina tapped her commbadge and told everyone to stay inside the ship. They all jumped into the car and it sped off down the corridor. In the front seat, Talaina shifted uncomfortably. Both the body armour and the gun were not comfortable. "So, you got a name?"
  "Wheeljack."
  "Kazzur."
  "Nice to meet you Kazzur. Thanks for responding to our call. Though I'm surprised you helped. Organics tend to fear and flee anything Cybertronian. Especially a distress call."
  "To be honest, we responded hoping to get something in return."
  "Ah. Silly me, thinking we'd found some altruistic organics."
  "It's nothing serious for you lot. Basically, we just need you to fix our ship."
  "Well, since you wrecked it helping us, I guess that's fair."
  "Good. I'm glad we have an agreement."
  
  
  They quickly entered the command room. There were only a couple of Cybertronians there. The officers got out of the car and were approached by a large white mech with wings on his back. He looked down at Talaina. "Thanks for the help. I'm Jetfire."
  "Kazzur. How can we help?"
  "I'm not entirely sure. Most of the Decepticons are holed up in the lower sections around the array. And they've taken a scientist hostage. We're not soldiers, we don't have the skills to mount a rescue. Not against that team."
  "Well, anything we can do."
  "Best stay here for the time being. I'm sorry you got dragged into this."
  
  One of the others turned towards Jetfire. "Hey boss? An Ark is coming in. I think it's Prime himself." Jetfire turned towards the screen, hope on his face.
  "Then just maybe, we can get out of this. Tell them to board and get up here ASAP."
  
  Talaina quickly dodged to avoid getting trampled on as everyone in the room started moving around. Ttorkkinn quickly sided up to Wheeljack. "What's an Ark?"
  "A class of starship of ours. It means reinforcements are here. Errr... no offense. We do appreciate your help." Ttorkkinn just crossed his arms and humphed at the remark. The Starfleet officers gathered together in a corner for a few minutes, discussing if it was a good idea to come here. Talaina maintained her stance that it was, and that they needed to be more pro-active. Finally the door to the command room opened and in strode a red and blue robot carrying a glowing orange axe. With a faceplate that moved when he spoke, he carried himself like a warrior. Like a leader. A group of various robots followed him in.
  
  "Jetfire. Report."
  "Prime. Onslaught's Combaticons have captured Perceptor and taken over the lower levels. They currently control the array, but they can't activate it without taking this room. We're all that's left."
  "That is grave news. We can not allow the Decepticons to take the Space Bridge. It would give them too much of a tactical advantage." Prime turned to the robots behind him. "Aerialbots. Set up a perimeter around the exterior of the station. Do not allow any Decepticon reinforcements through and be prepared to offer air support if needed."
  "Yes Sir."
  
  Five robots turned and left, leaving Prime and five others with gold and red chests. Prime turned back to Jetfire. "We need to free Perceptor before we can retake the station. If we make any hostile moves before that, they could execute him."
  "We have another matter. These organics also responded to our distress call." Jetfire motioned to the Starfleet officers. Prime looked at them, then stepped closer and knelt down, laying his axe on the floor.
  
  "Thank you for your attempt to help. I am Optimus Prime."
  "Talaina Kazzur."
  "Your assistence is appreciated, but this is not your battle. I must ask you to leave, for your own safety."
  "Unfortunately, our ship was badly damaged helping out. We'll need some serious repairs before we can get flight capable again."
  "That is regretable. Then I must ask you to remain here, where you will be safe."
  
  
  Wheeljack walked over. "Prime? I've had an idea. If Kazzur and her team are willing to help, Decepticon scanners aren't calibrated for organic life. If we can create a big enough diversion, Kazzur's team could sneak in and free Perceptor."
  Jetfire joined in. "There's maintanence tunnels running the length of the station. They're too small to move a full squad through, but your smaller size could make it work."
  Prime looked up at Wheeljack. "No. This is not their problem. I will not have innocents risking their lives because of us. We will have to come up with another way."
  
  Talaina stepped forward. "Prime? We're volunteering to take the risk. We came here to help out, to get some help in return. Let us do our part." Prime looked back down to Talaina.
  "Are you certain you know what you are signing up for? The Combaticons are an elite unit. They will kill you on sight."
  "Then we won't be seen."
  
  The lights in Prime's eyes blinked briefly as he thought about it. "Very well. I commend the bravery of you and your team. Make your way through the tunnels. Grimlock's team and I will start causing a diversion. That should draw out most of the Decepticons. Good luck."
  
  
  Behind Prime, the robot with the gold chest smashed his hands together and started rubbing them in excitement. "Me Grimlock love this plan!" He turned to his team. "Transform and follow me Grimlock!" Grimlock transformed, dropping onto his fists as they became legs, his robot legs fusing together into a large tail. From his chest, a large animal head emerged and let out a fearsome roar. Karry jumped back ever so slightly in surprise.
  
  "Is that.... a dinosaur?"
  
  The other four members of Grimlock's team also transformed into dinosaurs and charged out of the room, Prime following them closely. Karry moved up to Talaina. "Sir! The odds of dinosaurs evolving in this galaxy as well as ours is... well, I'm not T'Fon so I can't calculate it, but it's stupidly remote. Virtually impossible. But that was clearly a T-Rex."
  
  Ttorkkinn crossed his arms. "May I remind you Lieutenant, the Voth had dinosaurs, and they were in the Delta Quadrant."
  "Yes, but they originally came from Earth. These Cybertronians MUST have had contact with Earth in the prehistoric past."
  
  Talaina knew where this was going, and motioned to Karry to calm down. "Ok, ok, I'll ask. But not now. We have a mission to complete first." Checking their weapons were ready and each member had some grenades, the team moved into the tunnel.
  
  
  
  
  The tunnels were fairly empty. They were just large enough for Grimworm to walk upright, but would have required any Cybertronian to crawl. Obviously it was their version of the Jeffrey's Tube network on Starfleet vessels. The creaking of the station was the only noise as they moved, ready for anything. Pipes and conduits ran along the wall and Talaina was on point. "Keep sharp. Remember, these things can be disguised as anything. Even living creatures." It was a long walk towards the lower levels of the station, but one without incident. As they neared the target room, Talaina suddenly stopped. There were voices up head. A pair of them, sounding very similar. She motioned for the TRT to spread out and take defensive positons. There was a bend just ahead and that was where the voices were. They sounded like they were getting closer.
  
  "Tell me about it Rumble. I wanna get out there and bust some heads!"
  "Hey, you and me both bro. But Onslaught gave us orders, so we gots ta do what we were told."
  "I know, but I really, REALLY wanna go crazy! I'm gonna bust a bolt with this waiting!"
  "Little guys always get the short straw. You wanna get bigger jobs, get a bigger body."
  
  
  The two came round the corner. Looking like an average humanoid, they were 7 foot tall and identical, except one was blue, one was red and black.
  "Oh very funny. You know we're not allowed to just switch like that."
  "Then quit your moaning. You're doing my head in."
  
  
  Talaina nodded and the four officers sprang up, firing their phasers in unison. The red one staggered back as his armour started to heat up. "OW! That hurts!" He reached over his shoulder and pulled a gun out, opening fire. "Rumble! Get out here and help!"
  
  
  The blue one had ducked back behind the bend and started shooting from it. Ttorkkinn tossed a grenade along the tunnel. The red guy didn't even notice until it exploded, blasting his legs clean off. He slammed into the roof before dropping onto the floor.
  
  "Ow. That's gonna leave a mark." He faceplanted the ground, prompting the blue one to yell out.
  
  "FRENZY! Alright ya punks, you wanna tangle with Rumble, then let's rumble!" He swung out into the tunnel, his arms turning into large pistons that he started pummeling the ground with. The tunnel started shaking as if it were an earthquake, girders dropping from above. Grimworm jumped into Karry, knocking her aside as a girder crashed onto his back. Ttorkkinn quickly dropped his own rifle and grabbed Grimworm's minigun, unleashing it's blistering hail at Rumble. The hits forced him back, stopping the shaking which gave Talaina the chance to throw a grenade at him. It stuck to his face and while he started screaming and scrambling to knock it off, it exploded. Rumble dropped to his knees, his face a smoking wreck before he faceplanted beside his comrade. Talaina looked back. Ttorkkinn and Karry were ok, but Grimworm was trapped. The three officers moved around the debris and strained to lift it. Ironically, Grimworm would have been the best one to lift. But with great strain, they were finally able to lift it enough for him to crawl out. Talaina knelt down beside Grimworm.
  
  "You ok?"
  "Will be. Fortunately, the armour absorbed most of the impact. But my back is killing me."
  "We'll wait here a moment for you to recover."
  
  Grimworm just shrugged it off. "I'll be fine. Let's keep going."
  
  
  The team moved past the downed robots and kept going towards their destination. Finally they came up to the grate with no further encounters. On the other side was a large room with glowing columns and glass tubes reaching from the floor into the ceiling. A single yellow robot was walking around and on the floor was a bound red robot. There didn't appear to be any others. Talaina turned to her team. "Ok. Looks like there's one full sized Cybertronian on guard. Ttorkkin, Grimworm and I will run interference. Karry, you get over to Perceptor and release his bonds. Get him inside this tube and away from here. Us three will fall back when he's safe."
  
  Karry looked through the grating. "I hope he's able to move, because I'm not going to be able to carry him."
  Grimworm looked through the grating as well. "Looks like his arms are moving at least."
  
  Talaina readied her gun. "Ok. We move on three. I go left, Ttorkkinn is right, Grimworm is middle. One. Two. THREE!"
  
  
  The grate popped open and the three officers charged out, opening fire on the Decepticon. He let out a yelp and spun around, Grimworm's minigun fire causing his head to jerk back quickly. He raised a hand to block the fire. "What the PIt are you things? And more to the point, where'd you come from?"
  
  
  The phaser fire, though not enough to destroy his armour, was clearly putting him in pain as it scorched his body. His right arm transformed into a cannon and he opened fire at Grimworm, but the Hulkanian had already moved quickly. Talaina came at him from the side and carefully aimed at one of his eyes, shooting a concentrated beam. The glass covering the optic cracked, prompting a furious yell. "Ya little runts! I'll kill you for that!" The Decepticon took aim at Talaina who barely rolled away from the explosion in time. Meanwhile, Karry chose her moment carefully. If she ran out too soon, she'd be spotted. The Decepticon turned his back to the grate. Now was her chance. Moving swiftly, she ran out towards Perceptor and jumped up behind him.
  
  "Don't worry, we're here to help."
  
  Perceptor nodded. "Thank you. That is a most pleasing situation."
  
  Karry inspected the bonds. They were some kind of thick solid brace keeping his two hands locked together, but seemed to be made from pure energy. It was a very bizzarre thing, and one Karry had no idea how to unlock. So she simply withdrew her sword and slid it into one of the gaps. Applying pressure to the tip of the handle, the sword started to bend. With a loud snap, it broke, but it also forced the bonds to break open. Perceptor shook it off and rubbed his wrists as he started freeing his legs. Karry motioned for him to follow her.
  
  
  
  Talaina rolled aside and fired again at the Decepticon. He was busy tracking Ttorkkinn and exposed his back to her. She cast a quick glance and saw Karry and Perceptor dissapearing into the tunnel. The distraction worked, now it was time to fall back. She shouted for them to move, but Ttorkkinn was just too slow. The shot hit the ground he was on, lifting him up into the air. Another blast hit him in the chest, knocking him back against the wall. Grimworm opened fire with a full flurry from his minigun, keeping him distracted. Talaina holstered her gun and whipped out her knife. Running forward, she rolled under some wild shots from Grimworm and jumped up, digging her knife into the back of the Decepticon's leg. Grabbing one of the spikes jutting out, she climbed up to the knee and triggered a grenade. Slamming it into the armour, she quickly jumped off as the explosion tore through pistons. The Decepticon cried out as he collapsed to the floor. Grimworm grabbed Ttorkkinn and dragged him into the tunnel as Talaina backed up, firing at the Decepticon's head. He was shouting all kinds of expletives and death threats as he tried to get himself into a somewhat upright position and started shooting. Talaina dove into the tunnel and quickly ran around the corner as the mouth of the grate was torn up.
  
  
  
  Talaina saw Perceptor and her team ahead. She ran towards them. "Status?" Grimworm was carrying Ttorkkinn, who seemed somewhat awake. His armour was badly charred and smoking.
  
  "Karry, Perceptor and I are ok. Commander Ttorkkinn took a full hit. His armour absorbed and deflected alot of the damage, but he still needs medical treatment soon."
  
  Perceptor was crawling on all fours, the only way he could fit in the tunnel. He awkwardly shifted to look at the team. "We Autobots have some experience with healing organic lifeforms. We may be able to assist."
  
  Talaina looked at the Autobot. "Thank you. But our ship should be able to look after him. Come on, let's get back to the control room."
  
  
  As they made their way back, Karry walked just infront of Perceptor. "I'm curious. Why did the Decepticons capture you, when they killed everyone else?"
  "As lead scientist on Project Generations, I and I alone hold the Space Bridge activation code. I am also the only one capable of generating the calculations required to open a Space Bridge safely."
  "What is a Space Bridge?"
  "In simplest terms, it opens two portals in space and connects them via an interdimensional bridge. It allows for almost instantanious travel anywhere. We were developing it to provide a means of searching for new colony worlds and resources away from the war. Unfortunately, the Decepticons learnt what we were doing. Needless to say, if it were to fall into their hands, the strategic advantage it would provide could in theory allow them to end the war in a matter of megacycles."
  "Aahh. It's basically an artificial wormhole."
  "I.... am unfamiliar with that termonology, but if you say so."
  "I do have another question. The one called Grimlock. He turned into an animal that was on my world a very long time ago. But that world is in another galaxy. Any idea how?"
  
  
  "Hmmm. Grimlock's team were captured by a Decepticon scientist a long time ago. He forced them into those alternate modes as part of a science experiment. No one knows where he got the data from for such scans, but it is theorised he did have a Space Bridge. Unfortunately, the scientist has been missing ever since, and Grimlock's team have no memories of said event."
  "Really? Could a Space Bridge reach into another galaxy?"
  "I do not see any reason why it couldn't. In theory, a Space Bridge could connect two points anywhere in the universe. Due to the nature of the interdimensional fold effect that is employed, a Space Bridge could branch any two points in the universe. There is no difference in power consumption. All that is required would be the correct calculations."
  "Than I think we may have just found our way home."
  
  
  
  
  They finally made it back to the control room. Karry explained what she had learnt to Talaina, while the Autobots were finishing clearing up the pockets of Decepticons. Prime strode into the control room. "All Decepticon forces have been transferred to the Brig in the Ark. Jetfire, I want you to see what damage has been done to the array."
  
  
  Perceptor walked over to Optimus, with Talaina perched on his shoulder like a parrot. "Optimus. Captain Kazzur has made a request." Optimus simply looked at Talaina and waited for her to speak.
  
  "Our homeworld is three galaxies away. We never thought we'd ever get home, but from what we've learnt about your Space Bridge, it could get us there almost instantly. Optimus Prime, I formally ask permission to use your Space Bridge."
  "The Space Bridge has not been tested. There is no guarantee it will work, or it will send you where you want to go."
  "The risks have all been explained to us. But my crew and I are willing to take the risk. All we need is some reinforcing of our ship's hull to survive the trip."
  
  Perceptor also spoke up. "We can also use this as a chance to test the Bridge. Optimus, the data we gain from it could help us immeasurably in tuning it."
  
  Prime thought about it. "Normally, I do not condone the use of our technology with those who are, technologically speaking, less advanced. However, you proved invaluable in rescuing Perceptor and you are far from home. I know if I were in your position, I would risk everything to get my crew back to Cybertron. If you and your crew are willing to take the risk, we will open the Space Bridge for you."
  
  Talaina smiled. "Thank you Optimus Prime. You don't know what this means to my crew."
  
  
  
  
  The next two days passed quickly. The Autobots patched together the Viper, leaving the ship with a very unusual looking hull. T'Fon worked closely with Perceptor, calibrating the scanners with where Federation space was. At this vast distance, Perceptor was worried they could land them on the far side of the Milky Way. Ttorkkinn was in a medical induced coma, but was alive and gradually on the mend. Good thing he had been wearing the TRT armour. Finally, Perceptor announced the calculations were complete. Talaina sat in her bullet ridden Captain's Chair. Karry was manning the helm and Xui Li was on sensors. The Viper was orbiting the station with the Aerialbots providing an escort wing. Optimus was on the main viewscreen.
  
  "Perceptor is opening the Space Bridge. Prepare for turbulance."
  
  
  The 'claw' at the base of the station started glowing as energy built up. The crackling energy intensified until a beam shot out from each part of the 'claw' into the central spire. A pulse of pure white energy raced up the spire and jettisoned out into space. It ran free for a few miles before detonating in a brilliant explosion, bathing the entire area in white. Talaina closed her eyes and looked away. Sensing the glow fading, she slowly opened her eyes again and blinked to clear her vision. On the viewscreen was what appeared to be the event horizon of a Black Hole. Optimus came on the other half of the screen.
  
  "Perceptor has confirmed the Space Bridge is stable. It should be linked to the coordinates you provided. Communication traffic should be passable between the portals. Are you picking anything up?"
  
  
  Talaina looked to Xui Li. With Cybertronian comms operating differently to Starfleet's, it was decided Viper herself would scan through the portal for any confirming signals from the other end. Xui Li was working furiously, scanning. Talaina held her breath. The wait was agony. Finally, she turned, a huge smile on her face.
  
  "Captain, I am, ah, picking up a Starfleet Nav beacon."
  
  Talaina nodded and looked to the viewscreen. "It looks like it worked. We're picking up a Starfleet signal from the other end."
  
  Prime nodded. "Then I thank you for your help. May Primus speed you quickly and safely on your journey."
  
  
  Talaina nodded. "Karry, take us in."
  
  
  
  The mangled ship, with half it's hull in the battle scarred Starfleet plating, and the other patchworked half covered in Cybertronium alloys, flew into the Event Horizon. The ship started shaking badly from the gravitational forces, but Perceptor had said that was to be expected. The screen started flashing, as they passed through space beyond description. Talaina started to feel sick to her stomach, the room spinning uncontrollably, but the trip was over almost as quickly as they began. Unfortunately, the effects weren't. Straightening up from over her arm rest, she wiped her mouth with the back of her sleeve and frowned at the mess on the floor. Most of the others had not fared any better. "Everyone ok?"
  
  
  Xui Li checked her sensors. "The ship appears to, ah, be intact. All life signs are, ah, present and accounted for." Talaina got to her feet and looked at the static on the viewscreen, quickly grabbing the panel beside her seat to steady herself.
  "Any idea where we are?"
  
  "No Sir. Sensors are, ah, not picking up any star systems. There are no, ah, planets or sensor readings of any kind. Except for, ah, the Starfleet Nav Beacon."
  "Is the Space Bridge still open?"
  "Negative."
  "Then it seems wherever we are, we're stuck."
  "I believe I can, ah, get a visual."
  
  
  Talaina looked at the screen, waiting as patiently as possible. What were they going to see? Hundreds of different scenarios raced through her mind, none of them particularly pleasant. Finally the static cleared to show blue. No stars. No light. Just a solid blue screen. With a Starfleet Nav Beacon floating nearby. "Xui Li? Are we.... in the Blue Dimension?"
  "It's possible Sir. The Space Bridge does, ah, go through dimensions. But that does not, ah, explain the Nav Beacon."
  
  
  Karry turned from the helm. "What's the Blue Dimension?" Talaina staggered over to Karry.
  "A dimensional pocket that we suspect may be a branch of subspace. We discovered an entry to it in the Risa system when we were on the Sentinel, shortly before you were transferred. The only way out was to use our Transwarp engines."
  "Which are destroyed on the Viper."
  "Yeah. But if there's a Nav Beacon, someone must have come back and done some exploring. Xui Li, can we patch a message through that beacon? See if we can contact anyone?"
  "It's certainly, ah, possible. One moment."
  
  
  Talaina waited for Xui Li to finish the work and gave her Captain a nod. "This is Captain Talaina Kazzur of the U.S.S. Viper, transmitting a general distress call. We are trapped in the Blue Dimension. Can anyone read us?" Just static was the reply. "Dammit. Keep transmitting that through the beacon. There has to be a way we can get out of here."
  
  "Not with the damage we, ah, have taken. Only Transwarp was known, and that, ah, is why Starfleet did not send any more, ah, ships to investigate." Suddenly, a crackling voice came through the comm. A young female with a scottish accent.
  
  "This is Captain Imzavia of the U.S.S. Tesla to the U.S.S. Viper. We read your signal. Do you have Transwarp engines?"
  "Negative Tesla. We're stranded."
  "Please stand by."
  
  
  A few moments later, a Nova class ship randomly appeared in front of the Viper. Her Captain appeared on the viewscreen. A young lass with red hair, but with the black eyes of a Betazoid. Talaina found it odd a Betazoid would have such an accent, but dismissed it. There could be any number of reasons for it.
  
  "Captain Kazzur. Our records show your ship as lost over a year ago. I must say, this is the last place I expected ya ta be turnin' up."
  "It's a long, sad story Captain. I assume by your entering this place, you can get us out?"
  "Aye, we've been tasked with studying this for a while. We've left our Waverider back in the Risa system to act as a link. We're standing by ta beam your survivors aboard. But we're not detecting many."
  "Most of the crew have died."
  "I'm sorry ta hear that. We'll beam ya aboard and get ya ta Serenity Station. Then we'll figure out a way ta get your ship out."
  "Thank you Captain Imzavia. We all appreciate it."
  "Wherever ya've been.... welcome home."
  "Thank you. But not everyone made it."
  
  The channel cut out and Talaina collapsed into her chair. They had found a Starfleet vessel. After all the trouble, after all the hardships... they had finally got home. At least, a couple of them had.
  
  Ensign Jenna Jones.
  
  Ensign Neil Redshirt.
  
  Petty Officer Malvina Macwilliams.
  
  Lt Fernando Daddio.
  
  Lt Nulhor.
  
  Ensign Neal Igtanioc.
  
  Lt Joe Kemble.
  
  Ensign Rea Randol.
  
  Lt Terrell Worlds.
  
  Lt Carl Burkins.
  
  Lt David Tolvsky.
  
  Ensign Willie Wurz.
  
  
  To name just a few. Each one gave their lives in the line of duty. To save the ship. To save their family on board. The emotion was too much. The explosion of joy mixed poorly with the burden of regret. Talaina had got them home, but far too many didn't make it. She couldn't tell how she was feeling. All she could do was lean forwards, rest her face in her hands and quietly cry as the transporter took her.

  *******************************************
  
  A Romulan Strike Team, Missing Farmers and an ancient base on a Klingon Border world. But what connects them? Find out in my First Foundary mission: 'The Jeroan Farmer Escapade'

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• ryan218 Member Posts: 36,106 Arc User

  April 2015 edited April 2015

  Teaching the Next Generation
  
  Captain's Log, Stardate: 87941. Commander Ryan Allington, U.S.S. Victorious.
  With the Victorious under long-term refit, recieving fresh crewmembers for a patrol of the Cardassian Border following the Mauritania Incident, I have been asked to give a series of lectures to 1st Year cadets at Starfleet Academy regarding Starfleet's purpose, and what they are entering into.
  End of Log.
  
  In the Christopher Pike Wing of Starfleet Academy, the Lecture Hall is bustling as Year 1 cadets file into the chamber, taking their seats in a room designed to hold 500 people. Under those circumstances, in 2387 Starfleet Academy installed a holo-communications system so lecturers could give the lecture from a holodeck if they couldn’t get into the hall, but as Ryan files in from the east entrance, he’s grateful that he isn’t going to have to resort to putting his life in the hands of Admiral Barclay’s technicians.
  
  As he makes his way to the stage, he straightens his uniform jacket as the chamber thunders, the cadets rising to attention. In a characteristically quiet and modest tone, Ryan says, “As you were.” He takes his place and looks around as the cadets return to their seats. With a bottle of water by his side, he clears his throat and begins. “My name is Commander Ryan Allington. I’m Commanding Officer of the U.S.S. Victorious, an Ambassador-Class Starship. Before I get started, I’d like to ask, how many of you here signed up after watching one of the recruitment vids on FNN or seeing Admiral Quinn attempting to beat Lord Kitchener on the posters?”
  
  After a few moments, a great many hands rise into the air.
  
  “That’s why I’m here today – to give you an idea of what you’re getting yourselves into. Firstly, let me begin with this: all evidence to the contrary, you are not joining Starfleet as the Federation’s warfighters. That isn’t what Starfleet is about. You are joining as the Officers of the United Earth Space Probe Agency.” A hand goes up in the front row, prompting Ryan to nod to the cadet, a Bajoran, in response. “Go ahead.”
  
  “What’s the difference?”
  
  Ryan smiles, seeming deeply satisfied with the cadet’s question. “I was hoping someone would ask. Of course, Starfleet is a military. To say otherwise would be to suggest that politicians didn’t cross their fingers whenever they opened their mouths.” After the following laughter settles down, Ryan continues. “But Starfleet is a military in the same vein as the US Coast Guard or the British Merchant Navy of the 20th Century. In wartime, they were a fighting force to be reckoned with, while in peacetime they were purely civilian organisations. Starfleet’s mission of the day changes from day to day. Today it is to preserve the Armistice with the Klingons, tomorrow it could be to invade Cardassia. We live in very uncertain times.”
  
  Ryan stops to take a drink, before tapping on his screen and bringing up a series of images from around the Federation. “These images were taken from all over the Federation. Today, we are at war with the Klingon Empire, the Romulans are in Civil War and lashing out at the Galaxy for the loss of their homeworld, the Cardassians are on the verge of falling back into military dictatorship and the Dominion seem set to launch a new Cold War. Take this all in contrast to 50 years ago. Our future was laid out before us. The Federation was expanding in all directions; our alliance with the Klingons was taken for granted; the Romulans had been a no-show for 20 years and we’d already proven we could fight off the Cardassians and the Tholians with one hand tied behind our backs. Far from trying times, today we are witnessing the Federation’s darkest hour.”
  
  After another gulp of water, Ryan changes the screen behind him to show a photograph of Winston Churchill, an Old Earth Prime Minister. “I’d like to turn now to quoting an old Earth leader, Winston Churchill. He said:
  
  ’The Battle of France is over. I expect that the Battle of Britain is about to begin. Upon this battle depends the survival of Christian civilization. Upon it depends our own British life, and the long continuity of our institutions and our Empire. The whole fury and might of the enemy must very soon be turned on us. Hitler knows that he will have to break us in this Island or lose the war. If we can stand up to him, all Europe may be free and the life of the world may move forward into broad, sunlit uplands. But if we fail, then the whole world, including the United States, including all that we have known and cared for, will sink into the abyss of a new Dark Age made more sinister, and perhaps more protracted, by the lights of perverted science. Let us therefore brace ourselves to our duties, and so bear ourselves that, if the British Empire and its Commonwealth last for a thousand years, men will still say, "This was their finest hour."’
  
  “Churchill was right. Out of 300 years of Empire, historians still call the year 1940AD Britain’s Finest Hour. But time didn’t stop there. A new day dawned, and a new world beckoned. The British Empire slowly faded into a memory after winning the greatest battle for world freedom in Earth’s history. Likewise, time won’t stop for us. Starfleet’s mission of the day will keep changing every time the sun out there sets over San Francisco Bay. But Starfleet has one mission which never changes, and hasn’t since its inception, before this institution was even founded: To explore strange new worlds; to seek out new life and new civilisations; to boldly go where no one has gone before. That’s why we’re out here: not to fight, but to learn. ‘Ex Astris Scientia’ – ‘From the Stars, Knowledge’. The reason is very simple; if you ask 5 different scientists about any subject in the universe, you’ll get 5 different answers, but there’s one thing every scientist agrees on. Whether it’s 1,000 years from now, 1 million years from now or 1 billion years from now, our stars will eventually grow cold, and go out. And when they do, they won’t just take us – they’ll take Karl Marx, Sarek, Shikahr, Madelyn Monroe, Shatner and all of this... will have been for nothing. Unless we go to the stars.
  
  “So, yes, today you are soldiers, but tomorrow you will be explorers. That’s what this place is all about, so that one day, when that bay is centuries gone and our worlds have long been turned to ash, people will still look back and say, ‘This was their finest hour.’”
  
  ***
  
  Author's Notes:
  
  Props to anyone who can point out all the references in this one!

  Old Wounds
  Trials of Blood and Fire
  Moving On Parts 1-3 - Part 4
  In Cold Blood

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• grylak Member Posts: 1,594 Arc User

  April 2015 edited April 2015

  "And how does that make you feel?"
  
  
  Talaina sat on the leather couch of the office. The walls were a warm dark green, inviting comfort and hospitality. A large potted plant stood in the corner and the ornate desk had papers neatly stacked on it. The sun blazed through the window, warming the office on this lovely summer day. Across from her, sat on her own chair, was Doctor Wren. She had a PADD and every so often would tap some notes down on it. Talaina considered her answer carefully. "How do you think I feel? I failed them. I was out of my depth."
  
  "Talaina, this was your first command. You deal with short term battle instances, in a ship that was designed for putting into Starbase between each battle. You didn't even have a holodeck. Frankly, it's a miracle you made it back at all."
  
  "The Captain is responsible for her crew. It doesn't matter how you look at it. Everything was my responsibility."
  
  Wren looked at her watch and sighed. "We've come to the end of this session. I do feel like you've made some progress, but until you start to let go of your guilt, you'll never be able to return to the service. You've made it clear how much you want to get back out there in some way, but I can't in good judgement let you go currently. We'll get there, it just needs more time. Visit your family. Talk to your friends. You're a strong person and you have a good network of support. Use it. Don't handle the guilt by yourself."
  
  Talaina stood up. "Thank you Doctor. I'll try." After shaking hands, Talaina left the office. Outside, Ttorkkinn was sat on a park bench. They were both in civillian clothes, having been granted an extended leave, as with all the survivors, though Talaina was wearing a very smart pair of trousers. Seeing her come out of the building, Ttorkkinn picked up the jacket perched on his lap and offered it to Talaina. She quickly put on her Diplomatic jacket and changed shoes. Now dressed smartly, she waited for Ttorkkinn to pick up the backpack beside him and stand up.
  
  
  "Done for another week?"
  "For another week. Have you got it?"
  "Yeah. Ready for this?"
  
  Talaina took a deep breath and held it, before gradually letting it out. "Yeah. He's the only one left on Earth." The two walked along the San Francisco street towards the public transporters in silence. Ttorkkinn knew Talaina felt the need to do this, and he admired her dedication. Most Captains would simply make a call, not visit everyone in person. It was not only a means of ensuring the family knew how their loved one had died, but also helped Talaina move on.
  
  
  
  It was only a matter of minutes before they were in New Orleans. They walked through the streets until finally, they came to the address on Terrell Worlds file. The sun was shining brightly here as well. Ttorkkinn gently took the backpack off and opened it. Talaina reached in and pulled out a small box. The Saurian looked at her. "I'll be waiting over there for you."
  
  Talaina grimaced. "Thank you." Taking another deep breath to steady herself, she climbed the steps to the front door and pushed the doorbell. After a few moments, the door opened. A human female in her mid thirties answered. Her dark hair was a mess and she had clearly been crying. It was two weeks since Viper had returned. Two weeks since the families had been told by a random Starfleet officer on a comms channel that their loved ones would never be coming back to them. Talaina owed it to her crew to tell the families in person. She spoke softly, fighting back the pain in her own voice.
  
  "Mrs. Worlds?"
  
  The woman blew her nose on a scrunched up tissue as she nodded.
  
  "My name is Talaina Kazzur. I was the Captain of the Viper. May I come in?"
  
  
  Mrs. Worlds nodded and opened the door. Talaina entered the house and waited for Mrs. Worlds to shut the door and offer her a seat. Still holding the box, Talaina sat down on the couch. The house was decorated in an old style. Floral wallpaper and china teapots dotted around. Pictures of Terrell with his family were scattered everywhere, as if someone had recently been looking at them and was holding tightly onto their memories. Mrs. Worlds blew her nose again before Talaina continued. "Mrs. Worlds-"
  
  "Please... Karen."
  
  "Karen. I'm sorry for disturbing you in this time of grief. But I wanted you to be told in person about Terrell, by someone who worked with him." She paused and sighed again. "Terrell was a great engineer. He had an uncanny ability to make structures and items that many people told him were impossible. Many times, his skills saved the day thanks to his unorthadox methods. But he was more than that. He was an integral part of the crew. Of the family. During parties and social events, he was always one of the first ones to volunteer to run it. He always made sure everyone was enjoying themselves, putting their happiness above his own. I'm sure you already know this. But I wanted to tell you just how much Terrel Isiah Worlds meant to us."
  
  "Thank you for coming. It means a lot to know he was so loved. If I may ask.... though I'm fearful to know. How....."
  
  "The crew was gathered in the mess hall for a Christmas celebration. The ship was hit suddenly by a powerful weapon that destroyed half the ship. He didn't suffer."
  
  "A.... a Christmas.... celebration? That's it? No valiantly fighting off invaders? No no no lethal dose of radiation to save the ship?"
  
  "I'm sorry his death was so meaningless. If I could trade places with him, I would in a heartbeat. But at least take some comfort in the knowledge he didn't suffer, and he was amongst friends."
  
  
  A small boy walked into the room. Only about six years old, he was the same kid from the photos. "Hello."
  
  Talaina looked at the boy. "Hello."
  
  Karen blew her nose and wiped some tears away. "Bobby? This is Talaina. She was your dad's Captain." The little boy looked at Talaina.
  
  "Why didn't you save daddy? Why?"
  
  "I'm sorry Bobby. I'm so sorry. If I could bring him back, I would. I would do everything I could to get him back. But I failed him. I failed you. And for that.... I can never forgive myself."
  
  "I want daddy! You took daddy away! It's all your fault! I WANT DADDY!" Bobby started crying and promptly fell onto the floor. A young girl, no older than eleven, came into the room. Karen motioned towards Bobby.
  
  "Claire, can you look after your brother for a bit?" The girl nodded and took Bobby away, singing to him. Karen watched them go. "This is hard for all of us. But moreso on him. He has a mental disorder, it makes it difficult for him to process his emotions properly."
  
  "But he is right. It's all my fault."
  
  
  Karen said nothing, a point that struck Talaina in her heart. Her antenna drooped as she stood up and handed the box over. "Terrell liked to make small clockwork sculptures from bits of scrap in his off time. He was working on this for his son at the time. I... I don't know if he finished it, but I felt you should have it."
  
  
  Karen took the box. "Thank you."
  
  Talaina shifted uncomfortably. "I should probably leave you to it. And again, I'm so sorry."
  
  
  Talaina was shown to the door. As she slowly made her way down the steps, she raised a hand over her mouth, fighting back the tears. Ttorkkinn was sat on a bench not far away. He stood up when he saw her approaching. Talaina cleared her throat and tried to put on a brave face.
  
  "That's everyone on Earth. I believe there's a few families on Trill that deserve a visit."
  
  Ttorkkinn looked at her. This was clearly draining her emotionally. He raised his arms and hugged her close. "You don't need to do this you know."
  
  
  Talaina hugged him back, squeezing him tight. "Yes. Yes I do."

  *******************************************
  
  A Romulan Strike Team, Missing Farmers and an ancient base on a Klingon Border world. But what connects them? Find out in my First Foundary mission: 'The Jeroan Farmer Escapade'

  0
• starswordc Member Posts: 10,963 Arc User

  April 2015 edited April 2015

  The Silence Ends
  
  And so the time has come, it's here
  The silence ends, change is near
  You wait in the balance libertine
  Come into the pantheon
  
  Welcome to the universe
  Welcome to the universe
  
  If there's a past into the clear
  We better take the pace
  Erase this face
  In constant search for everything
  
  You wait in the balance libertine
  Come into the pantheon
  
  Welcome to the universe
  Welcome to the universe
  Welcome to the universe
  Welcome to the universe
  
  A new day has begun
  
  “Welcome to the Universe”, 30 Seconds to Mars

  
  Starfleet Reserve Officers Training Corps Armory, Leran Manev State University, Leran Manev, Federated States of Trill, 7 Kiris 8208 Central Date (3 March 2407 Earth Standard), 1457 hours local
  
  It was the third day of the Trills’ eight-day week, uniform day for Starfleet ROTC cadets. The main lecture hall at the ROTC armory was packed to the brim with a sea of blue-garbed sophomores and juniors as a short, willowy woman in a red Sierra uniform expounded over a holoprojection centered on an M6V star, a red dwarf 220,000 kilometers wide. “So, Wolf 359. The battle that changed the Federation forever, possibly the single most important event in naval history of the last century, and in terms of losses the third-worst military defeat in Starfleet’s history. Now, allowing that hindsight is twenty-twenty, what did we do wrong?” There was silence. “Come on, anyone?” A light-skinned cadet from Tear’c in the northern hemisphere raised her hand. “Yes, Cadet Yover.”
  
  “Lack of coordination and fire concentration, sir?”
  
  “Full marks,” Tyria Sark said with a grim smile. “That’s the big takeaway from the battle: fundamental swarm tactics against the Borg. You overlap your shields and concentrate fire on a single section, and you keep command-and-control as intact as you can. You absolutely do not do this,” and she clicked her remote over to a clip from a ship’s external camera showing an Excelsior-class cruiser charging ahead of the fleet, only to be ensnared in a tractor beam and have half the saucer sliced off in short order. “800 crew, dead. Admiral Jonathan P. Hanson, dead. USS Melbourne, beyond economical repair. And this in the battle’s opening volleys. Classic failure of a complacent peacetime Starfleet—I’m sorry, Cadet Ronson, where do you think you’re going?”
  
  A lanky young man from one of the out-system colonies angrily answered, “My grandfather died on the Melbourne; I’m not gonna sit here and listen—”
  
  “Sit down. That’s an order,” she cut him off calmly but firmly. “I’m sorry to hear that, but a good officer is compelled to evaluate what’s happened, so he can apply what he’s learned. Which is exactly what we did,” she added, segueing smoothly back into the lecture. “After the battle R&D goes into overdrive and a dozen or more new classes emerge, beginning with this ugly little mother.” The projection changed to a stubby pancake of a ship bearing the registry NX-74205. “Defiant-class tactical escort. New corvette class with no finesse whatsoever, just a set of big guns hooked to an engine. Cheap to build, cheap to crew, outperformed anything in its weight class at the time, and designed for the express purpose of overwhelming Borg targeting and shields with sheer weight of numbers and firepower. More directly relevant, fleet C&C and formation doctrines are rewritten. No more going it alone.
  
  “Which brings us to the homework for this week. You are to select one technical and one doctrinal improvement made in the post-Wolf 359 period, and write a minimum four-hundred-word essay on how the two worked together in subsequent engagements. This is due next week, and I’ve uploaded some useful papers to the course homepage. Any questions? Yes, Cadet Winga?”
  
  A bronze-skinned cadet from the equatorial city of Iklan stood up and asked, “Umm, yes, sir, is there a maximum word limit?”
  

  * * *

  
  It was an unseasonably warm and sunny day for early Kiris in Leran Manev. Usually there was at least an inch or two of snow on the ground this time of year, on its way to melted and muddy, but something had been funny with the ocean currents on the coast a hundred klicks northwest the last couple of years. It was 22 degrees, warm enough the students were out in force on the university lawns playing springball, chilya, and plain old catch and tag.
  
  Tyria had an hour free before her next class and had finished her paperwork and office hours early, and so she had found a quiet corner between two of the hundred-meter ancestral blackwood trees by the armory to attach a hammock and read the latest Jake Sisko novel, a well-reviewed piece of historical fiction set on Bajor in the 17th century, human time. Some of the phrases in Kendran dialect he’d used were a bit hard to grasp but she was getting by.
  
  She was so engrossed in the book she didn’t see the human approach until he was right on top of her. “Lieutenant Commander Tyria Sark?” a deep voice asked in Federation Standard.
  
  Tyria glanced up, then at the sight of a full-bird captain’s chest pins frantically dropped her PADD and scrambled out of the hammock to come smartly to attention. “Sir!”
  
  “At ease, Commander,” the bald, bulky, dark-skinned man in operations yellow told her. “I’m Captain Henry Wake, BUPERS.”
  
  “What can I do for you, sir?”
  
  “Walk with me.”
  
  The two officers strolled down the concrete sidewalks at a sedate pace. One of Tyria’s officer candidates waved to her from the front porch of a dorm before rearing up in shock at the sight of Captain Wake’s uniform. He waved one hand and kept walking.
  
  Finally he stopped at a fountain and began reciting without preamble, “Tyria Sark, born Tyria Rohallin, Class of ‘98. Operations Research major, graduated in the top three percent of your class, cadet commander in your brigade and captain of the women’s basketball team. What happened?” She gave him a somewhat confused look. “Well, from your records you were a real go-getter. Trained as a space warfare officer at Annapolis, then alpha shift conn officer on the Excalibur. We had your file flagged as on your way to the captain’s chair early, possibly even admiral material. Then suddenly in ‘04 you request shore duty.”
  
  “I had some life changes.” Wake gave her a look. “I took a symbiont, I got married, I had a kid. Wasn’t that in the file, too?”
  
  “Of course it was. I wanted to know if there was anything else.”
  
  She sighed. “No, sir. I wanted to take time off so my daughter would have at least a few early memories of me, that’s all. I ask you again, what can I do for you, Captain Wake?”
  
  “The USS Warsaw is nearing completion of major repairs after it was hit during the Archanis Sector Offensive last year. She needs a new first officer: Commander Azevedo, I think you know him, is getting a medical discharge.”
  
  “Yeah, he was tactical officer on the Excalibur. What happened?”
  
  “Traumatic brain injury.”
  
  “Damn.”
  
  “In any case, during one of his more lucid moments he suggested you to Captain Sirin Tev.”
  
  “Don’t know him. Sounds Bajoran.” He nodded. She sighed quietly. “When would I ship out?”
  
  “End of this school year, after your current class of seniors graduates.” Wake handed her a manila envelope. “If you accept, you’ll get an early promotion to full commander, effective July 7 Earth Standard.”
  
  “Don’t really have much of a choice, do I, sir.”
  
  “You always have a choice, Commander Sark. Good day.”
  
  
  Sark-Tabris townhouse, Lakeshore Borough, Leran Manev, 1836 hours
  
  “No, I don’t have a choice,” Tyria told her husband as they labored over an electric cooktop. She’d been taught to cook by her mother as a girl, and though they used mostly replicated ingredients to save money they still did the preparation themselves as a daily ritual. “You know how these things work as well as I do. When they offer you something like that and you turn it down, it screws your career prospects—they think don’t you have the drive. Pass me the goldspice?”
  
  “I don’t disagree,” Jolin Tabris said as he passed her a small jar containing the sunny yellow powdered seeds of a plant native to Romulus. Jolin was a good head taller than her, with light olive skin and black hair. “I just want to make sure you’ve thought this through. You know what it’ll mean for us, for Sameen. Ready for the oil?”
  
  “Please.” She took the bottle from him and poured a generous dollop into the frying pan, waited a minute for it to heat up, and added a helping of goldspice and chopped onions. The kitchen began to fill with familiar odors of cooking and their three-year-old daughter came jogging into the room as usual. Tyria stooped and lifted Sameen into her arms. “Oof, you’re getting heavy, little one.”
  
  “Hello, Mama.” Little Sameen looked like most Trill toddlers, face round and chubby, host markings still big and blobby instead of fine and intricate like Tyria’s and Jolin’s.
  
  Tyria hugged their daughter tight and turned her head back to Jolin. “We did agree, back when we decided to have her.”
  
  “Yeah, I’m the house husband while you go off and be the big joined hero,” he said with a jaunty grin, leaning in to kiss her on the cheek, then he took Sameen from her so she could start frying the skutfish. “But that was back when you were going to be a professor and an officer recruiter, not go running off to slay dragons.”
  
  “And I’ll miss you both like mad,” she agreed, dropping a breaded filet of unreplicated fish into the hot oil with a sizzle, wincing as a spatter struck her hand. “Ow!” She rushed over to the sink and started running cold water over the burn.
  
  “You okay?”
  
  “Fine, just a sting. Where was I?”
  
  “You’ll miss us, but…”
  
  She let out a sharp breath. “Captain Wake’s right, I didn’t join Starfleet just to end up right back on Trill, I wanted to be in the Chair. Don’t get me wrong, I like teaching and I don’t want to leave you two but… I want to feel space beneath me again.”
  
  “Okay.”
  
  She looked at him in surprise as he came over to her. “Just like that?”
  
  “Just like that.” He turned her to face him and leaned down to kiss her on the forehead. “I love you, Tyri. I want you to be happy. And if that means I don’t see you for months or years on end while you’re off saving the galaxy”—she snorted—“then I guess I’ll have to live with it.”
  
  “Even if it means I’m on the front lines?”
  
  He reached out and stroked the marks on the side of her neck. “Even if.”
  
  “Forty hosts of Gaunt, I love you so much, Jolin Tabris.” She reached her left hand around the back of his head and pulled his mouth down to hers.
  
  Then she felt a wet spot form on her cheek and started laughing. “Sameen! Stop it!”
  

  * * *
  
  This one goes out to the one I love
  This one goes out to the one I've left behind
  A simple prop to occupy my time
  This one goes out to the one I love
  
  Fire
  Fire
  
  This one goes out to the one I love
  This one goes out to the one I've left behind
  A simple prop to occupy my time
  This one goes out to the one I love
  
  Fire (she's comin' down on her own, now)
  Fire (she's comin' down on her own, now)
  
  This one goes out to the one I love
  This one goes out to the one I've left behind
  Another prop has occupied my time
  This one goes out to the one I love
  
  Fire (she's comin' down on her own, now)
  Fire (she's comin' down on her own, now)
  Fire (she's comin' down on her own, now)
  Fire (she's comin' down on her own, now)
  
  R.E.M., “The One I Love”

  
  
  Captain’s Ready Room, USS Black Prince, Moab System, 10 August 2412 Earth Standard, 0204 hours ship-time
  
  “Captain Sark,” the light brown Caitian interrupted her, “we're less than five minutes out.”
  
  “Thank you, S’ulluru,” Tyria said without looking up from the screen. The Caitian turned sharply on her heel and walked out, the door sliding shut behind her. “Gaunt’s hosts, I leave you to go off and fight the damn Klingons, and now we’re trying to help their proxies,” she told the face on the screen. She gave an ironic laugh, then sobered. “I miss you so much, Jolin.”
  
  “I miss you t—Oof!”
  
  “Hi, Mama!” A nine-year-old girl with a messy mop of black hair forced her way into the camera’s frame, jumping into her father’s lap. “I lost a tooth!”
  
  Tyria laughed at the gap-toothed smile. “How was school?”
  
  “I got an A on my test!”
  
  Tyria glanced at Jolin. “Prealgebra.”
  
  “Doing better than I did at that age, kiddo,” Tyria said, smiling proudly.
  
  “Captain,” S’ulluru messaged through the intercom, “we’ll be exiting quantum slipstream in sixty seconds—you’d better get over here.”
  
  “Thank you, Commander,” she acknowledged, perhaps a touch snippily. She shook her head and looked back to the screen. “Duty calls.”
  
  “Go get ‘em, killer. I love you.”
  
  The screen flicked to a Starfleet insignia and Tyria snapped it closed. She spared a glance at the holoimage of them sitting on her desk, then at the wall safe containing her orders, then set herself and strode onto the bridge in suitably dramatic fashion.
  
  “Sorry to interrupt you, sir,” S’ulluru murmured to her. Tyria grunted noncommittally. “How long has it been since you managed to get back to Trill to see them?”
  
  “Year and a half, just before I took command of the Prince.”
  
  “I don’t know how in the hell you manage it, Captain,” Lieutenant Commander Jazz Velasquez said. The ship’s copper-skinned chief engineer was making an adjustment to some of the controls for the multi-vector assault mode.
  
  “Well, you miss a lot of birthdays and you make a lot of vid calls.”
  
  “Simpler being single,” Velasquez muttered, slamming the access panel closed. “All right, that’s done. Imunna head back to Engineering.”
  
  As Velasquez jogged into the turbolift, the conn officer announced, “Beginning deceleration. Cue-ess-dee offline, exiting warp in five, four, three, two, one, mark.”
  
  Starlight and ambient matter twisted and bent in a spray of color as the Hephaestus-class escort dropped below lightspeed and a brownish, reddish Class M world inflated into view. “Welcome to Moab III,” somebody muttered at the back. “Klink-lovers and sundry crazies a specialty.”
  
  Tyria spun around angrily. “That's quite enough of that. I don’t know who said that, I don’t care who said that, but I don’t want to hear anything else resembling it for the duration. And if I hear the word ‘Moby’ from anyone I’ll have them in front of a captain’s mast for conduct unbecoming. Is that clear?” Nobody moved. “I said, is that clear?”
  
  A chorus of “Yes, sir!” echoed through the bridge.
  
  “Good. We’re here to help these people. We can’t do that if we TRIBBLE them off.” Any more than they already are, she added silently to herself.
  
  “Suharto’s hailing us, sir,” the Coridanite at communications said.
  
  “Onscreen.”
  
  A middle-aged, graying brunet human in service blacks trimmed with silver thread replaced Moab III on the viewer and Tyria snapped to attention. “Rear Admiral Huntington, sir.”
  
  Oooh, he’s a cutie, Tyria “heard” her security chief Riella Thrace comment from somewhere behind her.
  
  You know you’re broadcasting, right? she thought back at the blonde Betazoid. Her mouth quirked in a wry smile.
  
  “Captain Sark, I trust there weren’t any technical issues getting here?” Admiral Huntington asked.
  
  “Well, we’ve never had the Prince at quantum slipstream for that long before, but we didn’t have any problems, no.”
  
  “Good, you were supposed to be partnered with the USS Nighthawk on Observer duty, but they’re still in the yard reporting severe technical difficulties, so you’ll have to pull double-duty until either we get that old Sovereign-class back, or their replacement arrives. In the meantime, I’m sending over a full briefing packet on the situation here—which has gone from Yellow to Red. I assume you, or your ops officer, have already seen the newscasts but if you haven’t…” He paused to gather his thoughts. “The local head of state was assassinated in public shortly after losing a bid for reelection, though the new First Minister is responsive and eager to cooperate with Starfleet efforts in the area, so you won’t have to work too hard to get cooperation from most of the Moab government. Unfortunately, two other worlds in their little confederacy have declared a state of civil war, and that the elected First Minister’s government is ‘unlawful, illegitimate, and collaborating with occupiers’.” He grimaced. “And a third planet is already involved in fratricidal conflict over disputed elections returns and simmering local grievances.”
  
  “Yes, I’m aware of most of this, including the fact that according to a strict reading of the Moabite constitution, Speaker MacAuliffe is in fact correct regarding Minister Odelaw’s legality.” Huntington’s head rocked back and he gave her a startled look. She smiled sweetly at him. “I was a naval history instructor, sir. If I don’t do my homework, what kind of example does that set for my students? Don’t worry, I’ll follow my orders.” Particularly the ones you don’t know about.
  
  The admiral now looked rather like he’d eaten something unpleasant. “I’m, uh, glad to hear that, Captain, because I need you on-side. The upshot is, this system and four others within ten light-years are in a state of civil war.” He let out a weary breath. “When you were detailed here, it was only a possible outcome; now it’s the real thing, and they’re not confining attacks to each other. You need to maintain a constant state of alert: there have already been attacks against both Starfleet- and Klingon-flagged observers by factions in the sector.”
  
  “Understood, sir. I’ll factor that into the tactical sim schedule, as well.”
  
  “Glad to hear it. I’m chopping you to the Observer group, Captain. The Advisory group’s primary duty is supporting pro-Federation forces and they’ll likely end up coming into conflict with the KDF at some point. I need to have a few officers available who can handle diplomacy, with enough firepower to back it up. Observer Group’s job is to observe, coordinate with the KDF observers and the Romulans, and assist in containing the violence and preventing it from spreading to outside systems. It’s no cakewalk—one of your primary duties is to insure that both the Empire and the Federation hold to the modified terms of the armistice, since both sides are also actively supporting factions here. It’s a complex and dangerous situation and an extremely hazardous duty, though not as hazardous as the actual military advisors will be dealing with.”
  
  Tyria pressed a palm to her forehead. “Gaunt’s hosts, this is starting to sound like Dalaran all over again.”
  
  “Beg your pardon?” Huntington looked confused.
  
  “Sorry, Trill historical reference.” He gestured for her to explain. “I carry a very old symbiont, sir. My first host served in a national army during a cold war in our Information Age. Two major superpowers, Moash and Vella, each wanted a smaller nation, Dalaran, to join their side and backed opposing factions in-country.” She gave him a pointed look. “It didn’t end well for anyone involved, the Dalarani least of all.”
  
  “Well, with any luck things will turn out differently this time. You have your orders, Captain Sark. My adjutant is sending over the coordinates for your patrol zone.”
  
  Tyria shot a look at the comms officer, who nodded. “We have them, sir.”
  
  “Very good. Dismissed.” Moab III reappeared on the monitor.
  
  Tyria turned to the conn officer. “Lieutenant, set a course.”
  
  “Aye, Captain,” Lieutenant Junior Grade Ronson confirmed from the helm station.
  

  * * *

  
  Author’s Notes: So, toon number four: my Delta Recruit, Tyria Sark, along with some of her crew. And my first fic taking place fully in the Masterverse.
  
  I’ve decided to go with a parallel timelines model to justify the relationship between normal STO canon, the Masterverse, and the Worffan/StarSword continuity. The timelines run in parallel, many of the same events happen (sometimes at different times), and they share characters: Remember “Remembrance of the Fallen”? Versions of Tia Lanstar and Kojami Sobaru that were tutored by Kanril Eleya also exist in the Bait and Switch-verse, but presumably later events happened quite differently given that my own stories hew closer to mainstream STO canon (quite possibly Kojami is still alive, although Takeshi says otherwise).
  
  Note from Takeshi Yamato: Indeed, Kojami Sobaru’s death after marrying Tiana “Tia” Lanstar is a necessary part of Tia’s character development, as she accepts Sobaru’s final ‘gift’ (genetic material she can use to impregnate herself) and becomes captain of a ship of her own as she seeks to both build a peaceful future for their child, but also so she can keep others from having to make the same sacrifice Sobaru did. Her path also goes a bit… darker, but I won’t spoil it much beyond that (I will provide a hint, though: Kuban Sanjuuichi).
  
  Anyway, with Tyria Sark I’m attempting to write a very different character than Eleya: less hot-blooded and impulsive, but also less self-doubting. Unlike Eleya, who is prior enlisted and transferred from a military with a very different organizational culture, Tyria is career Starfleet and intended to be more of an archetypical officer: middle class background, high achiever, and more polite and cultured (sort of like Morgan as opposed to D’trel). That she’s a long-distance wife and mom and spent several years teaching are also major factors in her makeup. And as she said, the Sark symbiote has been around a long time: Tyria is host number eleven.
  
  Some thoughts on the Trills in general: they might have a long institutional memory through the symbionts. While the Trill Symbiosis Commission takes steps to prevent an “aristocracy of the joined” (e.g. by banning one from romancing one’s past hosts’ flames), note that they seem to select high achievers for symbiosis, and note in turn that high achievers tend not to live mundane lives in general: they’re likely to end up in high positions in business, politics, or the military (contrary to what Cryptic thinks, in reality they don’t let just anybody be an admiral: they only let the best students into the Academy in the first place, and only the best of those get to flag rank). Also, like Tyria, joined Trills may have previously lived through state collapses and proxy wars similar to the Moab political crisis, either on prewarp Trill or in their space colonies period. As a result, rather like the asari in Mass Effect are said to in the codex, the Trills might take a moderate, centrist political perspective, encouraging the long view and careful study before committing to a course of action (time permitting), lest history repeat itself.

  "Great War! / And I cannot take more! / Great tour! / I keep on marching on / I play the great score / There will be no encore / Great War! / The War to End All Wars"
  — Sabaton, "Great War"
  

  

  
  Check out https://unitedfederationofpla.net/s/

  0
• antonine3258 Member Posts: 2,391 Arc User

  April 2015 edited June 2015

  ULC10
  Teaching the Next Generation.
  Starfleet Command Course training. Important for anyone who wanted to be a bridge officer, the section for potential captains was expanded far beyond that. Starfleet had opened its doors to one of its largest classes ever at the Academy, and people with even a hint of command potential were being prodded to take both bridge officer qualifications, and captaincy if they could. The recent revelation of the Undine permeating Starfleet hadn’t helped. There were a lot of opportunities suddenly open, and one just had to look up to see the damage to the orbital colonies and Spacedock that was still being repaired.
  Tiriana, of the cadet line of the Sixth House of Betazed, was touched her previous commander had recommended her from the Viper. It was a jump from second-watch science officer, and doing well here could get her past the exec step and to a ship of her own fast.
  The current course was a special two-week intensive study in squadron-level coordination. It wasn’t enough to be able to fight a ship – this wasn’t patrol skirmishes against the Klingons, but a plan for a coordinated defense against the Undine, and possibly even the Iconians, from what the rumor mill was grinding out. If you were here anyway, you could probably fight a ship halfway-decently.
  This class was short enough they tended to bring in whoever was between assignments, or could be spared for a week or two, and had been a ‘who’s who’ in the past. She was excited to see who she would learn from, the great chain of Starfleet captains.
  The conference room was not large, the class this time was only two dozen, a rainbow of species across the Federation. The room’s lights dimmed and she could feel the minds outside in the Academy dim, as well as her skin tingle as a variety of anti-snooping measures sprang up around them. Involuntarily, she sat up straighter.
  The figure that came on wasn’t spectacular – though Tirana wasn’t sure what she was expecting. Something taller perhaps, and maybe not so… magenta. She wondered what sun had generated that shade, and the slightly pinker hair on top. A green tattoo of some sort marked a cheek, and she moved without the swagger the science officer had been expecting.
  The rank on the collar was Admiral however, in the brand new Admiral dress uniform that had been commissioned, gold piping and all. She reached the podium and the smart mikes in the room picked her up as she began to speak. Tiriana could hear a slight beat as the UT kicked in, even though the speaker was using English. Apparently, they wanted no mistakes or misconceptions on this speech.
  “I am Admrial Antonine Revka, and am honored to be asked to officiate this session. This may seem strange, as a perusal of my service record will show I have never taken it. That is simple. This class is, in some ways, a lie,” she started, letting the class stir briefly, “The Federation has one of the finest education systems ever discovered, improving and utilizing advantages discovered on hundreds of worlds. We can teach almost any trained skill, and you don’t get into Starfleet without showing exceptional aptitude, but command is an art, not a discipline. We can’t teach it, but we can seek it and develop it.”
  She scanned the room briefly, “Despite the common news stories of the last year, battlefield commissions are not the norm for Starfleet. You are here because someone believed you showed the initiative to take action, the judgement, or luck, of which action to take… and the beginnings of wisdom when not to take it. You are captain of a ship, but you are still part of Starfleet. We expect you to understand discretion, but understand that other captains are relying on you to undertake your tasks to success, as well as the billions of Federation citizens we both defend and expand the knowledge of our universe to. You are caretakers of honor as well as leaders. This course will determine if you can accept that responsibility. It will consist of a variety of simulator exercises and classroom discussions.”
  A hologram of class listings appeared behind her as she spoke. “Attendance at this course should be considered an honor, and one can succeed admirably as a Starfleet officer upon failure. One can succeed as a captain without success in the course as well, but this will aid greatly. I have time traveled six times, and engaged most of the forces currently aiming at disrupting the Federation’s ideals and its way of life – I have done everything I can to allow you to be ready for situations that I wish I would have had preparation in. The next hour will consist of your first command-level security briefing. Good luck.”
  A map sprang up, a mélange of colors. Tirana swallowed. Federation blue sprang on it, but seemed very small and diminished.
  
  *************
  
  Antonine didn’t have much to do for the next few days, which was unfortunate. Constellation’s savaging was still fresh in her mind, and she’d prefer something to do. The letters had been written, the funerals done, but she couldn’t walk into most grills yet. The smoke made her nervous.
  The prospects were busy of course. Most if it was command-level conditioning exercises for the first few days and getting security clearances set up, impressing the responsibility they were being prepared for. They’d already lost three of a course of forty-seven from this, people not sure they could take the weight of secrets. This was, according to the regular instructors, normal.
  It’d been a last minute meeting, assigning her here, but things were still in chaos repairing the damage Earth Spacedock had taken. Technically, she still had a panel to investigate the loss of her own ship in the madness, but that seemed to be indefinitely postponed, and a new Guardian had been picked out that she was starting to arrange the refit and evaluation of when orders had come down. Hurry up and wait didn’t stop at flag rank, it seemed.
  Her main purpose here, though, was to put a face on command, be a representation of everything to aspire to. Even though she’d never gone through the program herself, so it was also a refresher on the things she’d have picked up in a ‘normal’ Starfleet career, as opposed to a hasty PADD and a ‘Godspeed’ from Quinn.
  It was once scenario training began, when she’d be administrating sessions and drowning in a wealth of data for evaluating candidates that her real work would begin. Unfortunately, she wasn’t able to oversee the refit of the Trafalgar in the meantime, and since she was at the Academy, she couldn’t bug the Command ops staff what the new mission they were prepping her for was, exactly.
  So she’d have time to think. It was, apparently, traditional for the evaluating flag officer to come up with some scenario in the rotation. Since she hadn’t gone through the training, she hadn’t known and the staff had forgotten to tell her when she’d been at McKinley still. So she’d flipped through some of the old versions. Impossible situations to reveal stress were a favorite, which made her wonder about some of her fellow flag officers psychological stability. Old missions were another classic, and that may be worth a shot. Time was so chaotic for this year that her version of events no longer matched her service record, so it’s not like they could hack the solution if she picked the right one. It might even be educational.
  The technological revolution of getting the best Klingon, Federation, and Republic engineers in the same rooms on the Solanae Sphere were causing ships to be out of date almost as soon as they left the yards, and older models were being stuffed full of so much power they could basically barrel along at nearly the same pace as older ships. The resources required were not insignificant, even to the Federation, but the time and training required to maintain such high-technology in the field were the biggest concerns.
  Compared to, say, a small Miranda frigate from a year ago, the ships the current candidates were used to operating on, or would be operating on, it was a whole different world.
  “Okay, let’s see how they do against superior force and have to build out their tactics on the fly. Computer, bring up a comparison between my personal logs and my service record at Starfleet Command – and reserve some space on the tactical simulators for me,” she ordered. The computer merrily beeped acknowledgement.
  
  ****************
  
  The passage of years had dimmed the final semester at Starfleet Academy, but even so, Tiriana was sure she’d never worked quite as hard in her life. There was, it turned out, more than a title difference in being watch officer or commanding a ship versus being a captain in the eyes of Starfleet. The Omega Directive was only the tip of the iceberg. General Order 24, the ability to destroy all life of a planet, remained on the books and within a captain’s judgement.
  Some of this was holdovers in the centuries-old service of the days when captains, even in the heart of the Federation, were hours or even days away from higher authority. But in the eyes of Starfleet and the Federation Council, the captain of a starship, a true vessel of the deeps, remained to be considered, legally, an embodiment and representative of the Federation and its ideals.
  Then there’d been the holodeck training. A variety of situations, sometimes ethical, sometimes tactical, sometimes both. Kobayashi Maru hadn’t shown up, yet. And through it all, a tiny pink sylph floating at the edges, taking notes, and not letting on, or letting herself be seen talking with instructors.
  Whispers ran through the class. Everyone had horror stories from the Academy of tests of bravery or initiative. Everyone was nervous, nerves jangling, waiting for the ‘emergency’ that would determine whether they would stay. A fire drill the fourth day had nearly trampled the proctor in an attempt to bring him to safety. The poor Bolian, Tiriana understood, who had just been trying to impart knowledge on crew workload regulations, was expected to make a full recovery, if with some cloned teeth. It had been one of the few times Admiral Revka had intervened, stunning several would-be rescuers with a hand phaser.
  Now, to her growing terror, she’d come across the Admiral in the hall, wearing a slightly more utility-cut version of her customized admiralty whites. She stared up, barely blinking as a lieutenant commander writhed in her gaze.
  “I know what the tactical base has on their frigates, commander,” Admiral Revka was talking, “If you’d been reading my record, you’d see I’ve seen them in action more than once, and I know the one wasn’t showing their full capabilities. They were old-style heavy plasmas, not the new variant. And I’m pretty sure it was a little bigger than what’s being loaded.”
  “Ma’am, I saw that and the security seal… and Operations said to go with the version of your transmitted logs,” the commander said, sweating slightly. Tirana could feel the emotions boiling off both of them – the Admiral miffed at an unexpected obstacle, the commander practically baring his throat to show surrender. But it was only emotions, she noted, as loud as they were – their thoughts swirled underneath, emotions projecting. Starfleet defense training.
  The Admiral ran a hand through her hair distractedly. “All right, all right… I think it’s a mistake. Everyone saw the fireworks, they’ll know what to expect.”
  “Admiral, with respect, if half of what I was able to see in your logs is true, that’s not going to be a problem,” the lieutenant commander said, a bit relieved as the Admiral was no longer staring at him.
  The Admiral smiled briefly, “Starfleet’s grand history shows to expect the unexpected – that’s why even our warships get loaded with the complete Federation Library. Knowledge for its own sake can save your life, it has mine. Even if it’s from a different continuum.” The Admiral turned and spotted Tirana, “Commander Tirana, I recommend you don’t repeat anything you hear here – it’ll surely be coming down the rumor vine soon enough but best not to help it start.”
  Tirana nodded, and Admiral Revka smiled more fully, “Good – and as a second free piece of advice – if you ever run into Q – try to go the other way.” She laughed, “It won’t work, but you’ll live a life without regrets.” Slightly confused, Tirana nodded and turned around.
  
  Several years later, reflecting back, she would find it funnier, but that’s a story for another time.
  
  *******************
  
  “Beings of all types, this is what you’ve been waiting for, what you’ve heard about, and what you’ve been trying to hack the Academy mainframe to get at,” Antonine announced to the assembled class several days later, now down to approximately thirty. She was a little depressed how many had to be cut from brazen attempts to cheat. She’d already forwarded the many, many tickets to Risa to the JAG office for investigation for who was handing so many out to Starfleet officers.
  Several more had been cut simply because they hadn’t been able to handle the pressure. That was sad, but it was best for all that Starfleet knew that now, rather than later. Most she’d recommended to continue their bridge officer qualifications – a fight was simple and they could handle, or they’d never have gotten here if that stress was too much. It was the classroom exercises of First Contact – an encounter with the alien, that had been too much.
  Antonine had wondered if, in another life where she’d spend decades reaching her rank, if she would have made it through. Never too loudly, she feared someone might show her.
  Since the very nervous laughter had eased, she continued. “This mission is the sort of thing you may encounter at the frontier – your mission parameters that are given may not be optimum for the actual situation. Your knowledge of the enemy or friends could be hazy at best, and the safety of thousands may rest on your judgements. If you want easy – then report to the Academy counseling office, you’re experiencing a psychotic break. Easy left a long time ago.”
  She stepped away from the podium, the amplification following her for the moment. “This mission comes from one of my early encounters, but the simulation team have thrown some additional variables, if you’ve been studying my mission logs since you got your security clearances. Commander Bowers, if you please.”
  The human stepped forward. “You have been charged with the neutralization of an enemy craft attempting to flee with sensitive information. You are very likely out-gunned, and certainly out-armored. Groups will have Academy staff as your bridge crew, and will be operating through Holodecks in teams 1-5. The schedule has been sent to your PADDS.” Commander Bowers smiled thinly, “Starfleet expects success in all endeavors, but understands and accepts there are different levels. This exam will be weighted, but your degree of success will not alone determine the evaluation that will be forwarded to Operations. Give it a good fight, captains. You’ve made it this far.”
  
  End part 1

  Post edited by antonine3258 on June 2015

  Fate - protects fools, small children, and ships named Enterprise Will Riker
  
  Member Access Denied Armada!
  
  My forum single-issue of rage: Make the Proton Experimental Weapon go for subsystem targetting!

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• grylak Member Posts: 1,594 Arc User

  April 2015 edited April 2015

  K'hotiim sat in the chair of his briefing room of his newly taken D-7. Or maybe it was a K'tinga? They were essentially the same. The massive hulking Gorn shifted slightly, one of the first things he had done when he took command was to put in custom chairs. After all, being well over nine feet tall and built like a tank on steroids, the usual Klingon chairs were far too small for him. Or most of the other Gorn on his crew. Music that was referred to as 'Dark Celtic' was playing over the speakers. It was a style from Earth, but it pleased him to listen. And it was similar to Klingon music, but different enough in that it didn't sound so damned stupid. A Klingon male walked in and thumped his fist against his chest in salute. He looked intently at his Captain, taking in the large spiked mohawk and the distinctive triangular nose, the nostrils giving him a dual ridged snout. K'hotiim looked up from the screen but didn't speak.
  
  
  "Captain, we are approaching the Romulus system."
  
  K'hotiim noted how K'Gan grimaced at the music. The Klingons really seemed to hate the sound of it. Probably because it was from Earth. And that was just another reason he kept playing it. His people may serve the Klingons, but one day they would rule. Until then, K'hotiim would take any victory he could.
  
  
  "Good." He rasped in his deep and throaty voice. "Engage the cloak and tell the Assault Squad to be ready."
  
  K'Gan saluted again and walked off. K'hotiim looked back at the reports. A Romulan Warbird with Borg enhancements had been reported in the Old Romulus system, causing trouble. One Klingon ship had already reported an incident with it, the M'Charr, a B'rel captained by one Bravok. Not part of the Imperial Forces, but in better standing than he used to be. And of course, the KDF decided it was too dangerous to let such a vessel fly around by itself. Even if it was far into Romulan territory. Scans from the M'Charr indicated no lifesigns were on board. Of course, that meant nothing with the Borg. But if the Romulans had abandoned it....
  
  
  
  K'hotiim stood up and made his way onto the Bridge. "Report."
  
  K'Gan reported from his position. "We have just dropped from warp and entered the system. Sensors are picking up one D'Deridex class ship drifting amongst the rubble of the planet. Transponder identifies it as the I.R.W. Tomalak, under the command of Commander D'Elon."
  
  Thraak spoke up from his sensor platform, the dark blue Gorn dwarfing his console. "I'm not picking up any Romulan lifesigns. The ship is moving under it's own power. I am detecting a single Borg signature in the Engineering section."
  
  K'hotiim narrowed his eyes and growled. "Take us closer. Thraak, gear up. We're boarding her. K'Gan, you have control."
  
  
  The two Gorn left the Bridge.
  
  
  
  
  
  The transporter dropped the five Gorn Assault Squad in the middle of a corridor, facing outwards in a circle, weapons drawn. As well as K'hotiim and Thraak, there was S'Sraat, S'ag whose skin was covered with cybernetic implants and his entire lower half was replaced with mechanical components. Unlike the rest of the Gorn present, he had a short squat face with a large underbite. The cybernetic parts were clearly not Borg, but he had obviously suffered a major accident sometime in the past. Each one scowled, scanning the area, and were well over nine feet tall. The armour on their chests could barely contain the sheer mass of muscles that had beamed into the Romulan ship. The final Gorn was Srin. Skinnier and shorter than everyone else on the team, he was still nearly seven feet tall and would still be a force to be reckoned with in close combat. K'hotiim growled. "The Bridge is ahead. We take it and see what state the ship is in. Identify what happened to the Romulans. Then we proceed from there."
  
  
  The squad moved in perfect unison. The corridor was dimly lit, but fortunately good vision was a perk of being a Gorn. The walls seemed to be partially assimilated, Borg equipment layered over Romulan panels. The door to the Bridge opened easy enough. No one was present, but there was sign of battle damage. While S'Sraat took up a defensive position with his minigun aiming back into the corridor, Thraak and Srin moved to different stations and tried to activate the computers. K'hotiim and S'ag moved towards the centre chair. He had a slight electronic hint to his voice.
  
  
  "Sir, I have a bad feeling about this. It's not like the Romulans to just abandon a full warbird."
  "If the Borg got onboard somehow, I think they would be perfectly willing to abandon it."
  "But we've heard of past incidents where they would still try to recover assimilated ships for their own ends. Remember, this is an Imperial ship, not one belonging to those flower pushers. Thraak, found anything?"
  
  "Yeeessssss. It seems Commander D'Elon has gone rogue and tried to get her own private collective. She succeeded in taking a Borg colony, but during the last Elachi attack of New Romulus, the ship was boarded and things got out of hand. The ship took heavy damage and retreated to this system afterwards. There's a time gap in the logs, but the last record indicates the crew abandoned ship."
  
  
  "Ha!" S'ag started laughing. "Romulans are always biting off more than they can handle. Serves them right."
  "Yeessssss, but this timestamp is before the M'Charr's encounter. Which means the ship is still functioning."
  
  K'hotiim strode over. "We already know it's functioning. What happened to the Borg on board?"
  "It doesn't say. Since we are picking up one lifesign, you would assume we would pick up the others."
  "Which suggests they somehow got off the ship. Hahahaha! Let the Romulans worry about that. Remain here with Srin and figure out how they took control of that Borg colony. Us three will go see what the Borg in Engineering wants."
  
  Thraak saluted and got back to work. K'hotiim contacted his ship and got them to transport him, S'Sraat and S'ag to just outside Engineering.
  
  
  
  
  The beam dropped them in a dark corridor. After a quick check to ensure there was no one around, K'hotiim moved to the door. Raising his pulswave disruptor, cursing once again how comically small the rifle was in his hands, he opened the door with a hiss onto the dark room beyond. The flashing glow of the singularity instantly started annoying him. His reptillian eyes picked up how much this room had been assimilated. Only the spinning singularity and the layout of the walkways remained the same. Borg Alcoves lined the outer walls, the green light from the panels not enough to let them see any details.
  
  "Switch to optics. And be careful. That Borg is in here. I don't want to snap any of your necks today." The three Gorn pushed a button on their arms and a segmented silver cover slid into place over their eyes, providing a full HUD display. Now able to see properly, the three officers cautiously moved in three seperate directions. S'ag's voice carried over the dark.
  
  "I've found the drone. It's in an alcove."
  
  
  The other two closed in on his position, S'Sraat keeping his minigun aimed at the drone. K'hotiim holstered his weapon and inspected the drone. It was a Romulan female, wearing the outfit of the Romulan Empire, but she was heavily assimilated. Despite this, K'hotiim recognised her from the mission reports. "It's Commander D'Elon. The ship's captain. Huh. It looks like her private little Borg army got the better of her."
  
  
  S'Sraat chuckled. "Always the way with Romulans."
  
  Suddenly the three Gorn all jumped back as D'Elon opened her one unassimilated eye. She stepped away from the alcove and looked at each one. "You are not part of this Collective. Identify yourself."
  
  
  K'hotiim took the lead. "I think not. You have the disadvantage here. You will tell us what happened to the rest of the crew."
  
  D'Elon twitched her head towards K'hotiim. "This Collective has left this vessel. This Collective will survive."
  
  "Identify yourself."
  "We are One of Many. We are Borg. We are Romulan. We are survivors."
  "One? Of Many? You meant to be some kind of Queen?"
  "This Collective does not require a Queen. No Collective requires a Queen. All will become one with this Collective."
  
  
  D'Elon raised her arm, the device on the end spinning ominously, as she stepped forwards. K'hotiim quickly took a step back and activated his motion accelerator. Although he now had faster movements, it still only meant he moved roughly at standard human speed. But against a Borg, it was more than enough. He circled around her and backhanded her clear across the room. As she started to get up, K'hotiim charged forwards and slammed his foot down on her arm, pinning it. S'ag ran over and planted his foot on her back, servers working to force her down into the deck. K'hotiim growled as he leaned down.
  
  
  "No one assimilates my crew."
  
  Picking her up over his head, he carried her towards the large spinning singularity and casually threw her over. She didn't even scream as she vapourised. S'ag watched her go with satisfaction. "I will never get tired of watching Borg die."
  
  
  S'Sraat holstered his minigun. "Shame she went down so easily though."
  "Don't worry S'Sraat," S'ag commented. "We'll find you a Brikar to fight some day."
  
  
  K'hotiim was already on his communicator. "Thraak. Have you found anything?"
  
  "Yeeeesssss Captain. It seems the source of the Romulan's Borg nonsense is sitting in Cargo Bay One."
  "Excellent. You two stay on the Bridge. We'll check it out. And that drone has been dealt with."
  "Then the ship is ours."
  "Not yet. But soon."
  
  
  K'hottim then hailed his ship to have his three man team transported to the cargo bay.
  
  
  
  
  
  They appeared in a brightly lit room. Deactivating his optic shields, K'hotiim let out a whistle as he looked at what was before him. "No wonder they thought they could get their own Borg army. This couldn't have been easy to get."
  
  
  Before him, hooked into the ship, was a Borg vinculum. Cables and wires covered the device. S'ag moved closer, inspecting it.
  
  "Blast damage. Someone tried to shoot this."
  "Probably when the Borg started taking over. Thraak, Srin, both of you beam down here."
  
  
  K'hotiim waited for the two Gorn to beam in. "Inspect that device."
  
  
  Thraak and Srin got to work. S'Sraat and S'ag took up defensive positions while K'hotiim started prowling. Eventually, Thraak walked over to his Captain. "Sir. I've extracted data logs from the vinculum. It seems following the Elachi battle, the Borg took over the ship."
  "Yes, yes, we know that."
  "Yes, but at the time, they were programmed to protect D'Elon. She was injured and the Borg simply switched into a protect mode. The Romulan engineer tried to infect the Vinculum with a fractyl virus to shut the drones down, but it backfired and caused them to start killing the crew. They evacuated and rigged the ship's self destruct. The drones simply assimilated D'Elon to gain her access codes to shut it down, and then reverted to their basic programming. They took some shuttles and left, leaving D'Elon behind in the protection of the ship. I think that virus screwed up their minds pretty badly."
  
  "I see. Can you reactivate the self destruct?"
  "Easily. But as a loyal officer of the Empire, I must remind you, Captain, that this ship would aid the Empire greatly and we should recover it."
  "Understood."
  
  Both Gorn smirked at the understanding. Thraak looked back to the Vinculum. "I'll set it on a two minute delay. That should give us the time to get off."
  
  
  Thraak moved to a console beside the Vinculum and started typing. Alarms started blaring and K'hotiim grabbed his communicator. "Qu'Vep! Beam the team back NOW!"
  
  
  
  
  
  K'hotiim materialised on the Bridge of his ship with everyone else. He looked at the viewscreen as the assimilated warbird erupted in flames, before shrinking down, sucked into it's singularity before imploding. As Thraak took his Bridge station and the other Gorn left the Bridge, K'Gan stepped beside his Captain. "How could you fail to recover an empty ship? That technology would have been a great advantage for the Empire."
  "When we accessed the ship's navigation systems, it triggered the self destruct. A trap set by the Romulan crew before they abandoned ship to make sure the Borg couldn't take it anywhere."
  "Then you failed to take the proper precautions. And you call yourself a Captain?"
  
  
  K'hotiim looked down at the relatively diminuative person beside him and growled. "Are you questioning my abilities? Do you wish to challenge me for leadership?"
  
  K'Gan shifted slightly, knowing at this range, K'hotiim could easily rip his face off with just those razor sharp teeth. "No, my Captain. I was simply stating that it was a simple error that you overlooked."
  
  "Setting the self destruct into the navigation systems is not something easily done. Nor is it something one would consider doing. Take your station."
  
  
  When K'Gan didn't move, K'hotiim punched him in the stomach. And because he'd forgotten to switch his motion accelerator off, it was a rather harsh punch. K'Gan doubled over and dropped to his knees. K'hotiim deactivated the motion accelerator and withdrew the battery from his belt.
  
  
  "Activate cloak and set course back for Klingon space. And charge that up." He tossed the empty battery to the nearest bekk and walked off the Bridge, back into his briefing room. As he sat down, he started the music playing and took off his chest armour, dropping it onto the floor with a sigh. Though he would serve the Klingon Empire as a loyal soldier, he was not about to let it get too strong. After all, the day when the Gorn Hegemony would rise up and become the leaders was a day he looked forward to. It would take a careful balancing act, but one that could be done. But a day that couldn't start until he had finished gradually replacing everyone on his crew with Gorn. And that was a process that would take a long time in order to stop raising a flag. As he leaned back in his chair, he smiled a very toothy grin.

  *******************************************
  
  A Romulan Strike Team, Missing Farmers and an ancient base on a Klingon Border world. But what connects them? Find out in my First Foundary mission: 'The Jeroan Farmer Escapade'

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• antonine3258 Member Posts: 2,391 Arc User

  May 2015 edited May 2015

  ULC10 -2nd, Prompt 1
  
  Freestyle prompt!
  
  What’s in a Name?
  
  By Antonine3258
  
  Author’s Note: Set after my prompt for ULC 9 – Old Flame, and “Uneasy Allies”, shortly before the Iconian War starts.
  
  The Elachi reputation one was of ruthlessness, without remorse or sound, the silent predator around the edges of civilization, slowly subsuming entire worlds. This was entirely true. However, it is far easier to be silent in space.
  
  
  With a crack that thundered across dozens of kilometers of open air, a subspace rift tore open the ever-bright sky of the Solanae sphere. Diamond shaped Elachi ships poured through, aimed at the vast spire structure, surrounded by stardocks, which served as the primary shipyards of Dyson Command.
  
  
  
  A tiny fraction of the Sphere’s industrial potential, they were more than sufficient to allow the Republic to vault itself back to superpower status, meeting its commitments to the defense of the Rihannsu colonies. If there’d been dilithium spontaneously generating instead of Omega particles in the Sphere, the KDF and Starfleet would have certainly opened additional yards as well. But even with that logistic issue, the yards were large enough to supply the entire Delta Rising operation’s maintenance requirements, while still maintaining the Republic fleet and the still-ongoing exploration operations in the Sphere itself, which would take millennia to explore completely.
  
  
  
  This incredible treasure trove was the merest fraction of the embattled Sphere’s technology and potential, from one of the Iconians’ puppets. The Elachi’s mission was an obvious opening move to the Milky Way invasion – prevent more secrets of their dread masters’ technology falling into the hands of the Alliance, cut the link between the Alpha/Beta and Delta Quadrants, and shatter as many advanced ships and crews as possible before their governments could rally.
  
  
  The picket ships on the outer line fell back, prepared to deal with a Voth raid, but the pickets would simply be vaporized against a full fleet. They passed energy and torpedo turrets which awoke to hurried bursts of communication. Automated and (Turing test confirmed) non-sapient, they would blankly and robotically give their lives to buy time to organize.
  
  
  
  The Elachi’s bizarre crescent-wave disruptors began to launch range-attenuated scythes of energy as torpedoes in the Alliance’s three favorite flavors began to leave their tubes, the energy- weapon turrets programmed to wait for a better hit chance at closer range, shields flaring slightly to defend against the ionization of plasma torpedoes strung towards the angular enemy ships, along with the sonic booms of photon and quantum torpedoes being launched in thin atmosphere.
  
  
  That’s when the second phase of the operation became apparent. Small spherical probecraft, long a minor irritant in the Sphere, decloaked around the outer turret line, using months of signal intelligence to launch electronic warfare packages into the energy turret software. Some simply exploded under Iconian worms, others were confused into targeting their neighbors, and opened up with a scattering of energy bolts into the turrets still firing at the approaching fleet. Between the fratricide and the Elachi approach, the dockyards’ outer defenses fell far faster than expected by Alliance planners.
  
  
  It did, however, still take and give expert systems and living beings the chance to recover from surprise. The primary defense reserve gathered and swung around to meet the Elachi, a primarily Republic contingent that cloaked into fuzzy invisibility. Running lights flickered on across the shipyard, as ships in stages of construction or repair brought themselves to life. Some, many still-skeletal, living and power modules hung within a framework lacking armor plating headed towards the gateway. Others, showing the scars of their time in the Delta Quadrant, limped to join them.
  
  
  Others, such as two Astika-class battlecruisers being dissected to evaluate what had been done to them, and, more importantly, where by the Iconians to make the Vaadwaur such a threat had their scuttling charges set. With their structural integrity fields down, they broke easily, pieces being oriented to plummet towards the Sphere’s surface hundreds of kilometers below.
  
  
  The rest though, deemed ‘good enough’ by the dockyard moved to join the battle. The closest to the attack line, one of the newer destroyers, awoke and slid from its moorings. Its battle cloak smoothly masked against the atmospheric eddies as blast waves propagated from the dying turrets, and the probes showed no reaction until it reached close range and dropped the cloak.
  
  
  Its navigational deflectors shone as it used those very powerful projectors, combined with the fine control of the long-range sensors mounted behind, to tell physics to shut up and get in line. With a scream that would resonate in bone, the fabric of space fell into subspace, an aberration in the universe. The probes, caught in its midst, found their power levels falling rapidly as bright blue and white energy fire sprayed from the destroyer.
  
  
  The Elachi, without comment, continued their work to break the rest of the static defenses. The probes did not back away, though they began to scatter to try and escape into space with more expected physical laws. From their featureless surfaces, antiproton beams lanced out, and the destroyer’s shields began to flare as it struggled to dissipate the energy.
  
  
  With a hum, the proton cannons emblematic of the class deployed themselves, increasing the weight of firepower while the probes were still crippled. As the secondary deflector was forced to seal itself against backscatter, the subspace and energy fields that gave the ship its wings reconfigured, maneuverability improving as the hole punched through for the secondary deflector’s signals sealed itself.
  
  
  
  Normal enough for the Dyson series, but this one had not yet undergone shakedown. Its shield grid, equipped with additional optimizations over the base design, had small spots where they heterodyned unexpectedly with the EM fields of the impulse engines, weakening coverage. Installation of the ship’s energy-disbursement system into banks of heavy neturonium plating was not yet finished, and software from the tactical systems had not been optimized. The probes antiproton beams quested out and found such a weak spot, slicing through the shielding and into the hull, unmitigated by defensive plating or reinforcements to structural integrity.
  
  
  A tremendous thunderbolt, followed by lighting followed as the ship scattered and lurched, one of the major plasma conduits to its nacelles blown in a haze of gamma radiation. Lights flickered across the hull as EPS grounded itself. The nacelle went dark as the ship swung around, listing. The Tyken’s Rift collapsed back into normalcy as the ship’s power died. Escape pods began to separate from the ship, but there was little time remaining.
  
  
  The follow-up antiproton barrage found scant resistance as the ship collapsed inward, its singularity containment failing as the black hole at its heart raced out of control. The Elachi, their first objective completed, gliding whisper-quiet to join the probes as the attack on the dockyard continued, detaching a single frigate to collect the lifepods for a grim fate.
  
  
  ***************
  
  
  Admiral An’riel tel’Riessei seh’Virnat leaned back in her chair as the simulation finished, still taking notes, and paying no attention to the stunned silence around her as, at the central holoviewer, the bridge crew watched their last few moments of life play out. She needed to evaluate her own performance before commenting – the Solanae ‘radial’ design was significantly different than the usual bridge layout on warbirds. She was hoping it would reveal some insight into the species, so had declined when the engineers had offered to swap the bridge modules.
  
  
  Useful it may prove, but right now she really was missing having armrests. She wasn’t sure what that said about Solanae physiology, but it was annoying to hers. The heavily holographic controls did show some real advantages once you got used to them, and she was able to finish collating her notes on bridgecrew reactions to timestamps during the short combat simulation quickly.
  
  
  The bridge crew was silent, even Jalel, who while polite and a good security officer, was Federation and (from scuttlebutt she’d gathered) talkative by Trill standards. She stood up, the chair retracting as she did so to survey the room. Even crew had been with her since Virinat were rigid at their seats, paying scrupulous attention to what few readouts were active.
  
  
  
  “That was well done, my children,” An’riel said standing. “We have successfully fixed the cloak interaction issues that were previously an issue, and holographic simulations did not show the spot overloads of last time. Congratulations are in order to our engineering staff.” The Ulhans that were subbing the engineering posts smiled cautiously.
  
  
  She walked forward and stood by the holographic viewscreen, resting a hand on the console, and took a moment to observe the singularity that marked their passing. After a beat, she tapped a control, switching it back to its default Master Systems Display readout. Large sections still showed dark, but she smiled broadly and tapped a control zooming in on the nacelles, and then gestured into the pylon area which had been ripped open in their recent holographic test.
  
  
  “In spite of the issues during the mission, I have excellent news – the plasma conduits have completed the dockyard testing cycle and our warp coils reached maximum load under external power. Our warp nacelles have been approved by the dockmaster, and that was the last major system, besides the singularity core installation,” she said, with a nod to Tovan. He’d been running tactical and the stream of dockyard reports during simulation, and he deserved every credit she could give.
  
  
  She turned and looked around, still playing it up a bit. Honestly, they all deserved credit for how hard they had been working. She had the honor of captaining many ships in the rapidly-expanding Republic Navy, but this was the first one they were receiving direct from the dockyard, instead of second-hand courtesy of the Imperial Navy. And a shakedown cruise after a refit, An’riel had found, was much easier than newly assembled. Even with half again their own compliment from the dockyard assisting, they were being worked to the bone.
  
  
  An’riel began pacing around the console, and pitched her voice louder, “I know we have not had as much time as we should, but we all know why time is running out. You have honored the Republic, and myself, more than we can ever repay over the last two years. We are alive, and our colonies free, thanks to your tremendous efforts, and the crews like yourselves.” She stopped, and smiled, “Perhaps not quite as capable as yourselves, but close.” There were a few obligatory chuckles.
  
  
  “Every moment we have to act is thanks to sheer hubris on the part of the demons of air and darkness. We are Rihannsu, we are Reman, and we will thank them for showing us their weaknesses with all our people’s ferocity!” She stopped, adjusting the controls, showing the areas still inactive within the hull, “We know the legacy of our people. We know the crimes we have committed and absolved under the Republic, and the crimes the demons led our people to. We will not let it happen again. We will not be slaved, and the blade we are tempering here will be the one driven into their black hearts!” she finished, shouting, sweating slightly from the exertion.
  
  
  
  She wasn’t sure how the majority of crews would respond. Her friends, her children in common parlance as her crew members, did not break into song or cheers perhaps how Klingon crews, or the shouts of a Terran-majority crew. They stood however, with the classic salute of the grand days of the Senate, long enough that treachery had risen to glory, hand on chest. She stood still and returned, turning to face each corner of the room.
  
  
  “We will try again in several hours,” she said, speaking conversationally again. “Jalel, you have the bridge for now – we are doing well on the schedule, but I have a few things to discuss. Keep the emphasis on mobility and defense systems for bringing on line. Tovan, meet me at my office in ten minutes please.” Her old friend and exec nodded, and turned to his console. They were battling paperwork as much as mechanical faults.
  
  
  Jalel rose from his substation to take the command chair. An’riel stood by it, speaking quietly. “Well done running the opposition, and I apologize for not mentioning your race as well in that.” It had been a bit of a modification from one of the old epics calling for unity after the landing on ch’Rihan and the tragic civil wars that had followed, but An’riel always tried to steal from the best.
  
  
  “I understand, sir. That’s why most of my captains just use ‘human’ as a shorthand.” An’riel rolled her eyes. Terrans. Jalel waved his hand to refocus his superior, over the hazy tactical map he’d been using to run the Elachi strike. “It didn’t take much to manage, it was one of the big fleet-grade simulations they’ve been running here at Dyson Command,” the Trill explained. Apparently, Jalel followed the same philosophy on what to steal.
  
  
  “Regardless,” An’riel said, “My compliments to Captain Rel and the Harriman for their data feed again.” The two exchanged taut smiles. This was the fourth day of their ‘worst-case’ tactical simulations, with the Iconians having perfect knowledge of their ship’s weaknesses and how to strike at the Alliance’s data networks. A simulation as only as good as its data, however, and so Captain Rel had generously agreed to have the sensor drones on his Scryer-class practice by performing an in-depth tactical analysis of their little instance of a Caprimul.
  
  
  
  “I’ll send that on,” Jalel promised, “He’s grateful for the opportunity to fine-tune his sensors. Deep-scans of a Republic ship, even in drydock, are worth bragging rights back on Andor.”
  
  
  An’riel pulled up a file from the ship’s databanks, “If he starts getting too boastful about getting one over… send this file over on your next message.” Jalel grinned. An’riel wouldn’t send over anything too harmful, but in this case cross-culturally, honor was honor. “In the meantime, Fabricator 14 claims to be done with the modifications to core containment. Alert Veril and D’vex, so they can start closing up engineering. Then maybe we can fix these shield grid issues.”
  
  
  
  An’riel left the bridge after a few more rounds of instruction on the minutia of a ship in spacedock. She had only herself to blame, but being in the tan, more traditional tones of the barracks depth was relieving. The Solanae sections, with their dark alloys and unusual color scheme… she kept expecting something to ambush her.
  
  
  
  There was the other thing, which was small and probably old-fashioned, that kept the ship from feeling like a home. She still hadn’t come up with a name for the ship. It wasn’t on any active honor lists yet, so it wasn’t a concern for Admiral Kererek, but it was becoming noticeable to the crew. Elements knew the ship was having different teething problems every few hours, so it clearly didn’t really know herself either yet.
  
  
  She passed crew after crew inspecting auxiliary systems, or finishing installing primaries. The spaceframe had been under construction for over a year, but at a slow pace. She’d enjoyed the brief stint in the Dyson prototype, and the idea of an upgrade to a ship with similar sensors, more flexibility, and the ability to cloak next to the surface of the sun was intriguing. So she’d asked the Fleet if it was possible to get assigned to one of the ‘destroyers’.
  
  
  Current fleet nomenclature listed destroyers as support ships for large fleet formations, able to aid the big battlecruisers by heavy point defense, and turning the tide for escort squadrons by rapidly collapsing their typically-weak shields. The Dysons had gotten slapped with ‘science destroyer’ as a result of their flexibility, cramming in advanced sensor arrays and heavy armament into the same hull, though not at the same time unless you wanted to burn out both systems at once.
  
  
  
  The downside to highly flexible systems, good maneuverability, heavy forward firepower, and sturdy hulls, besides being intensive and expensive to build, was that they were designed for one fleet engagement, feeding off the stores of larger ships, and then limping to a support yard instead of being repaired in the field. The Solanae Sphere’s technology made the logistical issues less pressing for the Dysons, but with the risk of being stranded in the Delta Quadrant, fleet had decided they were too short-ranged for An’riel’s assignment with Intelligence to look for signs of Iconians in the Delta Quadrant.
  
  
  
  Instead, she’d gotten assigned to one of the huge modern, if not cutting-edge Advanced Warbirds, loaded with Tholian gear tuned for spatial distortions to make up for a less-flexible and powerful sensor suite. The blazing tetryon signature it left all over the place also served to ‘explain’ any remnants left from the very bleeding-edge Faeht-class warbird that was the other half of her assignment. It was about as small as a singularity-driven ship could be and prone to shaking itself apart. But the Republic could hide its maintenance requests in the paperwork for the Tempestuous Kestrel, feeling if even Delta Command didn’t know it was there, then certainly their enemies didn’t.
  
  
  Meanwhile, the R.R.W. To-be-determined continued to exist in potentia. Plenty of room existed in the Sphere to just leave it around as a spaceframe with an antigrav generator or two, while its large subsystems were worked on when time allowed. Since they were just hanging around, the larger systems had been easy to upgrade with the latest results of the technology exchanges between the powers.
  
  
  Which unfortunately meant that the systems hadn’t been looked at as parts of a whole system when upgraded, and they weren’t quite showing the promised synergetic benefits yet, which was a polite way of saying the systems were almost warring with each other since they’d started being installed.
  
  
  
  She reached her office, tapping regretfully the box of mementos from previous commands and adventures that she hadn’t even had a chance to sort yet. There were a lot of things waiting to be done, unfortunately. A simple milk run to the colonies in Psi Valorum had managed to end with the Iconians jumping a Sphere into local space so their long-anticipated invasion could begin. That left only the priorities. She shook herself.
  
  
  She tapped a screen, displaying the careful efforts of installing the singularity core, a sphere wrapped in layers of physical shielding, and surrounded by distinctly Solanae looking pillars, from a feed taken from the dock. Surrounded by tractor beams and antigrav drones, it was being lowered through its own emergency ejection port.
  
  
  
  “Computer, prepare additional log entry,” she ordered. Her desk beeped at her in anticipation. “Shipmaster’s log - all major systems have been installed except the primary core, though all power converters and secondary systems have passed checks. Systems continue to show minor conflicts, though my crew has once again shown they are one of the best of the fleet as optimization continues at a heavy pace. They have once again born up under a heavy burden, which I pray will see relief before the attack all expect occurs.”
  
  
  “Privately – I have grave concerns about the installation of the singularity core. While the Republic Navy is the master of applied gravity systems, the Solanae-derived technology was empowered originally by either Omega particle interactions or conventional dilithium-moderated warp cores. While our EPS systems are very similar, the technology has had to be adapted further to match the system physical dimensions of our engine rooms compared to the changes to adapt to Starfleet or Klingon warp cores, and I expect further problems with the accelerated schedule.”
  
  
  “And, though my crew has come through admirably, the ship requires time for us to become truly comfortable with her and learn what she can do when pushed to her limits. However, I feel more strongly than a year ago that this ship will be required through the flames to come.” She finished, feeling a bit more centered, and sat down to confirm her department heads’ reports and keep the wheels of bureaucracy turning.
  
  
  The drudgery of this part of her job was not the best, which is why she’d built herself in a break. The door chimed just five minutes in, as she finished signing the engineering reports. Veril had been doing tremendous things with poor parts for years now, but An’riel was inclined not to force her to exert herself when she didn’t half to.
  
  
  
  “Come in, Tovan,” she said after double-checking the security feed. Her exec walked into the room, looking more haggard in the natural lighting. “Pull up a chair – the replicators kicked in on this deck four hours ago, according to the work logs,” she ordered. Tovan walked to the replicator, ordering something that, from the smell, had to be a stimulant. He paused before sitting.
  
  
  “Oh,” he said, “I’m glad you got the painting hung up, but when did you?” He sat down and peered at her carefully, “You have been sleeping and not just going to Satra for pills, have you?” There had been, Tovan remembered, more than one period where his friend had done her best to avoid sleep because of the nightmares that had come.
  
  
  An’riel rolled her eyes. “Tovan, unless I want the whole crew frying their digestive systems out, I cannot risk not setting an example by setting sleep,” she chided. She would prefer stims right now, if she’d had any choice. She was still processing what had happened to Gaius, and old nightmares had been lurking at the edges of her dreams.
  
  
  
  She centered herself, leaning forward and serious, “And that painting is one of the things I wanted to talk to you about. Because I didn’t hang that painting,” she said, and reached into her desk, pulling out an isolinear chip. “And I certainly didn’t place this behind the frame, in a secure diplomatic pouch with some codes I can’t actually tell you about.” She flipped it over, revealing a seal marked with the Republic Phoenix. “But I did scan it – this was molecularly locked. Any change to its data will have affected the image.” She handed the chip to her exec.
  
  
  “That’s possible?” Tovan asked, holding it up to the light.
  
  
  “Barely, and it will only be retained for a few more hours,” An’riel said grimly. “I could probably track it down where it entered the Sphere with enough time to dig through data logs, but that is not a luxury we have, and probably should not.” She stopped, considering, added, “Though someone could have just asked a steward to hang it and leave it in the frame. What is on there is worth the cost. It is all the current allied operation plans, and you need to be familiar with them, but only as far as you for now.” Tovan nodded. More than once, they’d found themselves in the situation of the captain and the ship pursuing simultaneous objectives.
  
  
  “I’ll commit them to memory,” Tovan promised, “I brought one of my own,” he said, holding up a chip, not quite so dramatically marked. “Current efficiency ratings for all systems. Revised tactical plans for fighting the ship – I really wish you’d managed to swing some better guns.” The ship had her full weapons compliment, but they were straight from Dyson Command, with barely any tweaks.
  
  
  An’riel waved that off, “We have used gravimetric torpedoes before. It will be relatively straightforward to upgrade the tubes to supports heavier loads on board later. And that is why we do not have better guns. A weapon bay is much easier to pull out in space and add additional transtators and conduits to improve efficiency. An impulse engine is not, so I would prefer to work on those where we have a dock.”
  
  
  “I know you’d ordered them back when it seemed we’d be locked in battle here in the Sphere for a long time,” Tovan said cautiously, “And they were here when we you needed to fill out the requisition, but we could swing by New Romulus, get some plasma beams…”
  
  
  An’riel nodded, and brought out her tricorder. “Yes, but I do not think our major contribution will be our overall peak firepower in fleet combat, Subcommander,” she said. “But, my exec, you are as always correct to question, and haven’t asked your real question yet. Why did your beloved superior pick now of all times for a new toy?”
  
  
  Tovan shifted uncomfortably, but An’riel’s voice was level, “This ship is one giant answer to a problem no one considered – how to use something as easily deflectable as protons as a directed energy weapon in today’s combat environment. The answer has proven to have surprising effects against shielding that we cannot propagate to the rest of the fleet.”
  
  
  “And we know from their probes that, like the Voth, the Iconians prefer antiproton weaponry. And this ship has some counters to that if we can get all the accelerators linked without leakage, of course,” An’riel amended, “And their technology, like ours and the Voth, seems to indicate eventually free-standing deflectors become easier to enhance than integrity fields, and Solanae technology offers some very interesting ways to use charged particles to level that playing field.”
  
  
  Tovan nodded. Part of An’riel’s Sphere-tech infatuation had involved getting samples of all the strange proton generation technology that was being reverse-engineered stuffed into her pet project. Some of its tricks were still inherent to the structure, in spite of the technology arms race going on. “I can see where you’re going, but it’s going to be a long time before we could retune these to hit like they do against Voth ships,” he warned.
  
  
  An’riel tossed her tricorder in the air briefly, “Not yet, but bless Iconian hubris. The data download on the sphere was inherently unreliable, but having one of their ships hover twenty meters away without shields up will be a godsend for the tech teams. And they let us live after fighting their ground troops, so we have data on that.”
  
  
  “We take out the gateways and that will be the element of surprise,” Tovan said, irritated, then smacked his hands together. “Elements, we got this close to Taris, again! Three times!”
  
  
  An’riel held up her hands, “I know,” she said, fiercely, “But as certain as I am as my deepest name and my honor… I know we will get another chance. She did not escape payment. Thousands of ships and no one had a tractor beam on standby on a tall ledge? We will meet her again,” An’riel promised, her eyes fairly glittering.
  
  
  
  “Have you figured out what that Iconian stageshow was about then?” Tovan asked, “It’s been keeping me up at nights. They didn’t think we would be there, that was for Sela, trying to prove something or point her in some direction”
  
  
  “It could have been any group there with Sela,” An’riel said honestly, “As far as I can figure. I am glad it was us, since we knew how to help poor Gaius,” she stopped briefly, gulping, feeling the old gorge. An’riel had been briefly subject to Tal Shiar holoconditioning, a prisoner in her own mind. Republic Intelligence had, thank the Elements, been in position to save her and deliver the cure information to Republic Command, the moment the tide turned in the war against Hakeev. The psychological effects had taken longer to heal, and the scars lingered.
  
  
  Unfortunately, though being able to detect and reverse holoconditioning had cleared thousands of defectors for being able to serve in the Republic without worry, the Navy’s finest intelligence officer was a Liberated Borg, and their neural chemistry was always unique. Poor Gaius had served as Sela’s puppet, trapped in his own head, and even his famous paranoia hadn’t been able to detect it.
  
  
  Tovan asked cautiously, “Have you heard? Did he wake up from surgery yet?”
  
  
  An’riel waved the question away. “I am certain he will return to active duty,” she said, “We have managed to cure hundreds of the Tal Shiar’s betrayal of everything Rihannsu. Gaius will be another one to be able to serve with no question on his loyalty. Otherwise-“ she stopped. “I am certain he will be able to return to active duty. Really, I can see no other end for him.”
  
  
  Tovan nodded. An’riel had once been cockier and more relaxed on duty, eagerly agreeing to the most dangerous of missions. Afterward, she had… eagerly agreed to the most dangerous of missions, but she was always, scrupulously formal. And even though she was one of the few commanders absolutely untainted by the association with the Empire, and D’Tan had poured on rank as a result, but she had never volunteered to take command of a fleet or even a squadron as she would certainly be given if she asked. She’d taken brief tactical command occasionally, but she’d never led multiple ships full-time.
  
  
  “So what’s the other card with all this?” Tovan asked. An’riel looked surprised. “A new ship is nice, and this seems useful, but we’d managed to refit our old ship. The invasion could be happening and we’d be stuck here. Why now?”
  
  
  An’riel hesitated briefly. “This… even with what we go through, my friend.” An’riel stood up, pacing, not looking at Tovan for the moment. “Even with that… this sounds paranoid.”
  
  
  “Admiral,” he said insistently, professionally.
  
  
  “Fine,” she said after another moment, and returned to her desk. “I did not think of it at the time – we were due a break after that mess at Kobali Prime nearly restarted the war against the Vaadwaur, but… our timing was very pat.”
  
  
  Confusion briefly fluttered on Tovan’s face, “You mean how we just happened to be in position to catch a distress signal off an ion storm?”
  
  
  “That just happened to come from Sela’s ship, while we just happened to be some of the very few people who knew the location of the Nopada gate,” An’riel confirmed. “It could be coincidence, but I rather hope not. I owe thanks and honor to whomever let me see Sela so reduced.” Tovan nodded agreement after a moment’s thought.
  
  
  “And rescuing poor Gaius was more than worth having to listen to her pretensions,” An’riel said, “But more importantly, assuming that the gateways are indeed instantaneous travel, Starfleet’s MIDAS array had managed to pick up the gravimetric shift of the Herald Sphere right after it jumped.” She tapped up a screen, then with a frown cleared the open screen, but not before Tovan read it.
  
  
  “Indo-European mythology of Terra?” he asked, “Were you very, very bored?”
  
  
  “I thought I had closed that,” An’riel said, “I had a few minutes of downtime, and I try to use Earth names for the ships since we are still a liaison ship with Starfleet.”
  
  
  “You still haven’t found a name?” Tovan said, “I thought you were just waiting to reveal it dramatically. Elements, An’riel, I know your religious about these things, but even a new ship is a ship.”
  
  
  “I have read some papers,” An’riel said defensively, “After we saw those android officers at Spacedock. With the downright ease of photonics, which are programs but built to interface with humanity on our level, becoming self-aware, it is theorized that, with the vastly greater power of subspace-driven computer core, they simply live too fast and too complicated to be able to communicate with us.”
  
  
  “Or they’re not there. Seriously, you like naming warbirds properly after predator species. Earth’s got a million legends, you’ll never stop having to explain to the rest of the fleet.” Tovan asked.
  
  
  “It is a hybrid from a race of monsters that’s destined to fight demons,” An’riel said tautly, “You do not simply call it after something that hunts vermin. And with the Republic crest, ‘Phoenix’ seemed too obvious, and… why are you distracting me?”
  
  
  
  “You looked like you needed it,” Tovan said simply.
  
  
  “All right, but this is serious,” An’riel said, smiling slight. A little of the tension was gone from her muscles. “Spheres are dark. They are hard to find, but they had orders cut to us in minutes with the exact location down to a warp-out point to join the fleet. That is technically possible, but unlikely.”
  
  
  Tovan nodded, “Okay, so you think someone is ‘cheating’ a little? Making it easier?”
  
  
  “Just a little,” An’riel answered, “But within the bounds of plausibility. That chip includes some background information gathered by Alliance agents, but the timestamps on some of that data – I would have only bothered to gather some instances if I had known the Iconians were not just legends, but were returning.” She stopped briefly, daunted, “And speaking of legends, there is a discussion with… something very old on there, that Starfleet is one hundred percent certain confirms the Iconians cannot time travel.”
  
  
  
  Tovan spun the chip in his hands, “So why not just go back and warn the High Council?” He asked, “There’s dozens of minor time travel instances across the powers, and from what I’ve heard, the defenses around Q’onos are still pretty shattered.”
  
  
  “It takes a strong Klingon government to not go on the attack,” An’riel agreed, “But giving forewarning to a surprise attack would be nearly impossible to conceal our foreknowledge. ‘Cheating’ gives us plausible deniability.”
  
  
  “But there is the strong chance it may not remain so, and an active temporal intervention may be authorized,” An’riel said glumly, “We have been chosen for such in the past. The act of time travel is dangerous. The consequences are worse. If the only hope for the Republic lies in the past, I wish us to have a vessel well suited to dangerous environments. If our fates are to be changed by a single ship, I will do everything I can to be that ship, so I can do what I can that everything we have sacrificed is not rendered meaningless,” she vowed.
  
  
  “So why then have you been blowing us up, the last few days?” Tovan asked, “I know it’s helping spot the problems, but it’s a brand new ship, the crew’s still feeling it out, and morale’s starting to sag.”
  
  
  An’riel leaned back, folding inward a bit. “I wish I could,” she said honestly, “Proper shakedown and then drilling out of the manual. This is the best I could think of, though. I do not know how much time we have, and these have been simulations from Intelligence based on ‘worst case’.”
  
  
  “So you’re setting it up so actual combat will be easier on the crew?” Tovan said with some disbelief, “That’s… very Imperial thinking, running a bluff on them.”
  
  
  “I am very low on good cards to play, Tovan,” An’riel said, “Elements know, we fight in shadows enough normally, but everything we know is based on conjecture and stolen luck. If I can make it hard enough that even through despair, the real enemy is easier,” she shrugged, “I am sorry Tovan. This was the best I can do.”
  
  
  They sat in silence for a moment, then the ship suddenly lurched. The two grabbed armrests with the east of practice, and turned to the status display. The core was inside the ship, and the countergravs and tractors of the dock had suddenly had to take the additional mass. Tovan tapped the chip on the desk, taking the opportunity. “Well,” he said brightly, “I’ll go start on this. Maybe we’ll see somewhere we can stick the knife in,” he said. “Maybe with the ship’s heart in place, it’ll complain less.”
  
  
  
  An’riel thought for a second. “We can only hope,” she said, “Veril thought some of the field emitters were going to resonate with the structural integrity fields. Most of the technology we can build, not understand.” She ran her hand through her hair, distracted.
  
  
  “An’riel,” Tovan said gently. The captain looked over. “Go to bed. Please. You know everything we can, and you’re just turning and twisting around. Remember, when you wake up,” he held up the chip, “You won’t be the only one who knows how bad it is.”
  
  
  She opened her mouth to protest, but closed it after a moment. “You are right,” she said. “I wish I could sympathize with them, but I know how I would think it would look in a CO.”
  
  
  “The curse of Duty, Captain,” Tovan said, almost disturbingly cheerfully, and left her office. An’riel did after a moment as well, considering. At least she could work on the other problem.
  
  **********
  
  
  An’riel found she was making no progress on the other problem. Mythology on Earth, she concluded, was a maze of mirrors of similar but not quite identical meanings and stories. It was like a Senate debate writ large and then magnified by a thousand. It was amazing what a non-constructed culture could do for sheer output of literature. She once again admired the Federation’s ability to get them all pointed generally in the same direction, something the Republic would have to emulate if it was to thrive.
  
  
  She had, nonetheless, managed to grab six hours of sleep after staring briefly at random mythological fowl for thirty minutes. Mainly thanks to a mild sedative. She was now awake – Vulcanoids simply didn’t need much sleep, legacy of their heritage of having to fight their ancient homeworld, and was mulling the Name Problem over again to try and solve at least one problem.
  
  
  “You have your heart, you are alien but forged into the shape of Rihannsu,” she said aloud. The computer beeped back at her. “How about you give it a try? Computer, list of random mythological birds – random sort, please.” She peered at the top of the list. “I do not know what that means. Computer, please pull files on –“
  
  “Hiven to Admiral An’riel – emergency alert from Dyson Command,” reported the heavy set science officer over the intercom. “Message was to be delivered immediately: War Plan RADIANT engaged.”
  
  
  An’riel cursed, briefly but deeply, and reached for her uniform. “Give me all department heads,” she ordered, waiting briefly for the channels. “Attention: Department heads meeting in one hour at bridge-level conference center. Bring complete ship status and estimates required for emergency departure. We leave dock in six hours maximum barring catastrophic failure.”
  
  
  
  She toggled all hands before questions can start, “Attention, all crew and dock workers. This is the shipmaster speaking. Prepare your quarters for departure under battle conditions. Section leaders will give full briefing in two hours. You have all exceeded my expectations, allowing us to reach the true crucible unbroken.” She paused, swallowing, “Republic Command has issued war warning. The Iconian invasion is expected within the next forty-eight standard hours.”
  
  
  End Part I
  
  Author’s Note: This one came out sort of long. The next half will have more actions. Poor An’riel, having to justify my ship-switching. :P

  Fate - protects fools, small children, and ships named Enterprise Will Riker
  
  Member Access Denied Armada!
  
  My forum single-issue of rage: Make the Proton Experimental Weapon go for subsystem targetting!

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• ambassadormolari Member Posts: 709 Arc User

  May 2015 edited May 2015

  (Ignore this, wrong thread)

  [SIGPIC][/SIGPIC]

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• cmdrscarlet Member Posts: 5,137 Arc User

  May 2015 edited May 2015

  A Bad Deal
  
  She held up the crystal to the light and looked at it with her good eye, the other being covered by an eye patch. It was translucent and orange-colored, cut to be shaped into a thick saucer and was about human thumbnail-sized. Kathryn didn’t have a jeweler's eye, yet she felt like she was looking at perfection. The Lobi Crystals were a special currency in the known galaxy to acquire items not on the common market, from exotic food to weapons and even starships. She looked at the cache she just acquired from the Ferengi and surmised she might be able to buy a reclaimed Tholian fighter craft. The difficulty to pirate one was not worth the effort. The Consortium did the work for her (by whatever means they have), all she had to do was buy the ship using these Crystals. It would be a nice addition to her shuttle bay. The Abyssal was not a carrier and if an Empire Captain was to have discretion with her ship, then Kathryn's was to collect shuttles from various races.
  
  Staza Murai sat at the edge of Kathryn's desk and started pouring Saurian Brandy to celebrate. "Well baby, you did it. It was nice to see the Ferengi get ripped off for once."
  
  Kathryn lightly slapped then rubbed Staza's thigh and smiled. "That was negotiation at its finest, and I didn't have to shoot the grubby little Lober either. I'd rather not have to vacuum his ashes from my carpet." She looked into the crystal again. "Still, my trust for Fidas ... only goes ... so ... far." Kathryn pulled the crystal closer to her eye, and then tapped her combadge. "Thel, meet me in Science Lab Two immediately."
  
  +++++
  
  The Andorian Chief Engineer stood from the electroscope and looked to his Captain. "They are fake."
  
  Kathryn's dark demeanor soured. "What."
  
  Thel placed a hand to his chin as he considered his words; Kathryn was not pleasant to be near when she was angry. Yet, he was always direct and factual with Kathryn. He earned her respect and knew that was invaluable social currency on her ship; there was no need to waste it now. "These could pass for real Crystals, but are counterfeit all the same."
  
  Turning on her heels, Kathryn placed both hands on her hips as she paced in front of the console. Thel could not tell if she were deep in thought or trying to stay calm. Stopping, she took a deep breath before responding, "tell me how. Someone is going to pay for this."
  
  +++++
  
  Kathryn stormed onto the bridge. Everyone jumped at her entrance and she marched directly to the helm. The Rigelian helmsman stood to let her sit down and was rewarded with being shoved to the floor. The Captain seemed to stab the console with her fingers as she plotted a course.
  
  "S'Rel, find the ion trails to the Ferengi ship that warped away and give me their heading," she yelled.
  
  "Aye, Captain," was the only response the Vulcan provided as she tapped onto her console.
  
  Three very long seconds passed, then the helm station chirped and Kathryn's jaw clenched. She finished her calculations. Looking to the helmsman on the floor she snarled, "get up."
  
  She moved to her own chair and slammed a fist on the arm rest activating the shipwide channel. "This is the Captain. Prepare for boarding action. We attack within the hour."
  
  The helmsman sat in his chair and reviewed Kathryn's plot, he turned to her anticipating a command. She was already looking at him. He trembled as he spoke, "Captain?"
  
  Calmly, she said, "maximum warp. Get me to that damn ship."
  
  +++++
  
  The D'Kora'class ship burned in space. Scores of blast marks marred the orange-hued hull. A debris field of metal and Ferengi bodies littered the space at every hole made by the Abyssal. It was held in place by a tractor beam from the Terran Empire vessel even though its engines were offline.
  
  On board, Kathryn stomped her way toward the bridge. After shredding the shields, she could have beamed directly to the bridge and settled the score with the Ferengi Captain, but she relished the idea of punishing the crew for following such arrogant stupidity. So Kathryn ordered an assault from shuttles and boarded the D’Kora through its voluminous cargo bays. Her crew would suffer losses, but Kathryn mentally shrugged at the thought. Her crew comprised of well-trained soldiers and warriors from across the Terran Empire and replacements would be drafted as she needed them. Besides, those that fell were either weak or unlucky. Still, the Ferengi were no match. Kathryn did not worry.
  
  Holding a falchion in her left hand and a phaser pistol in her right, she led two other DRACO-clad soldiers through the ship. Both were Gorn and fiercely loyal to her. Srazi and Garzas considered themselves to be her personal guards anyway. Turning a corner toward the doors to the bridge, two Ferengi defenders fired disruptors wildly, missing the three Terrans. Kathryn lifted her pistol and calmly fired twice. Both defenders died in front squealing as they fell to the floor.
  
  The doors swished open and Kathryn swung the falchion at the two dead guards. The upswing lifted a head and propelled it into the room, blood splattering where it landed and rolled away. The bridge crew, except one, cowered as Kathryn strode into the room. The Ferengi Captain stood resolute as she pointed her sword at him.
  
  "Fidas! Did you think you could get away with trading fake Lobi Crystals with the Terran Empire?!"
  
  The Ferengi looked around his crew and frowned. He lowered his head. "It was not my intent to insult the Empire. The negotiation was made in good faith."
  
  "The fact remains the Crystals are worthless." She nodded toward Garzas, who pulled a few crystals from a pouch and crushed them easily with one armored hand. He rolled the fragments in his fingers and they quickly turned to white powder that slipped through his fingers. A distinct aroma filled the air as the powder fell.
  
  Fidas sniffed, and then coughed lightly as the sharp scent pierced his sense of smell. His affect was blank as he said, "spare the rest of my crew."
  
  Kathryn did not expect that response, yet she capitalized on his calm demeanor. "Not surprised, eh? That tells me you knew about the deception. I must admit, using salt was interesting, stupid but interesting. Now, tell me where the Crystals came from."
  
  The Ferengi Captain raised his hands to chest height and shook his head. "We just delivered the -"
  
  A phaser beam blasted a hole through Fidas' left ear lobe and burned a console behind him. Screaming in pain and falling to his knees, blood leaked down his neck. Fidas clutched the wound and writhed in agony. The bridge crew sank to their knees.
  
  Kathryn lowered her pistol. "Who is the first officer of this scow?" No one spoke up, but she could tell who it was from the looks of the others. She pointed her falchion at the quivering Ferengi. "Next time a woman asks a question, you will answer. Tell others what you have seen here. Now go, find an escape pod."
  
  Shuffling past the others quickly and nodding furiously, the Ferengi left the bridge.
  
  Kathryn turned and started walking away from the bridge, the two Gorn following by walking backwards with rifles pointed at the bridge crew. She tapped her combadge and said loud enough to be heard by everyone, "Commander Ythysi, when we return, please destroy Captain Fidas' ship to star dust and take your time doing so." Kathryn turned on her heels and looked back at Fidas sternly. "The Empire doesn't take kindly to bad deals."
  
  The doors to the bridge closed.

  Kathryn S. Beringer - Endless Excelsior - Veritatum Liquido Cernerne - a proud off-meta build
  
  

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• antonine3258 Member Posts: 2,391 Arc User

  May 2015 edited May 2015

  "What's in a Name?"
  
  Part II.
  
  
  by antonine3258
  
  
  
  The conference room aboard the science destroyer was small, but decorated in Solanae style, with cool metal colors and a lower temperature to help ease volatile Rihannsu and Reman temperaments. It wasn’t proving particularly helpful today.
  
  
  “Admiral, have you lost your mind?” Veril had fairly exploded after entering the room. “This ship’s about as ready to fight as a Senator after a free banquet!” She threw two PADDs on the table with a loud clatter, presumably with the same status report hovering over the conference table’s holoemitter.
  
  
  An’riel replied mildly, “I would prefer more time to drill the crew to the new ship as well, but occasionally I am given orders instead of objectives. I am well aware of the current state of our power systems. This ship will, however, be out of dock in five hours if has to limp to New Romulus on impulse.”
  
  
  
  An’riel flipped the map over to an image of the Tau Dewa sector, “I have received an intelligence briefing with our current analysis of the Iconian threat. The gateways give them a tremendous strategic advantage, obviously, as there are no lines to defend, and they can hit anywhere.” She looked around, “What they do not know is that we can strike them back, we believe. But that will be a counterstrike. We must lure them into attacking our strongpoints or risk defeat in detail.”
  
  
  She gestured at Tovan, who continued, “Our repeated explosions have been part of a larger squadron-level simulation of a dockyard attack. As we’ve seen, a first-strike with Iconian technology will be devastating to the Republic and the Alliance. However, they are relying on information from the automated probes scattered through the Sphere. The last year of efforts in the Sphere means we believe we have a way of localizing them despite their cloaks.”
  
  
  “And as we have seen in our time in the Sphere,” An’riel said, taking back over, “The probes themselves are relatively easy to deal with, very lightly shielded. This ship is known by them to be incomplete. If we strike at them, it will throw their estimates of our readiness off, and the Alliance will use the holes in coverage to move fleet elements to unexpected positions.”
  
  
  An’riel stood up, tapping the holoemitter back to the system display, “I understand the… spectacular results of our previous battle simulations, but I also understand the singularity core’s gravity emitters seem to have fixed some of our shield grid issues?”
  
  
  Veril blinked, “That’s a bit of an oversimplification, but yes, our tactical allocations were expecting reinforcement that wasn’t present. The subspace emitters in those weird Solanae pylons seem to be patching some of the frequency windows, and so we’ve been able to divert reinforcement to shore up the rest. The simulations couldn’t account for it until we got the systems working in. It’s not perfect, of course, but they won’t be obvious.”
  
  
  An’riel nodded. The nature of an imperfect universe meant any defense system would have some sort of flaw to exploit. And Veril’s experience was practical, so she looked past the extra subspace tricks of Solanae tech to the fact that the Alliance could duplicate it, not explain all its facets.
  
  
  “The armor system and hull plating seem to be responding well, most of those are pretty standard so we haven’t had to do much retraining from the old systems,” Veril continued, “And the ship’s warp dynamics are pretty standard, so I’m not worried there. We’re going to see some quick fixes once we leave dock, of course,” Everyone nodded at this, “So if you can give me a month we should see engineering back at my standard.”
  
  
  
  “I promise I will do everything I can to keep us alive until we finish the shakedown,” An’riel said seriously, “I am willing to accept fleet standard for just the moment. You want to leave dock before firing up the core?”
  
  
  Veril nodded, “Better safe than sorry – I know the ejection system works, and if we get far enough along the singularity’s formed, then the radiation shielding should keep the dockworkers safe.”
  
  
  An’riel asked, “I know the original tech of this ship was built for a power load we can’t match yet, but will we be able to maintain shield integrity without the core, D’vex?” This was directed to Veril’s right, at an older, scarred Rihannsu, wearing the mourning tattoos common for the older generation. With his experience, he would be directing New Romulus work crews, but he was from Viriant, rescued out of Elachi space by sheer fortune, and felt he owed the Admiral.
  
  
  “All our fusion reactors are working normally, so we’ll have enough power to get clear. Full energy reserves we could manage a couple hours,” D’vex said. He knew as much about older cores as Veril did, but his imprisonment had made him prefer to work with realspace systems. Subspace fields, he claimed, made him itch. “That does remind me, I’d like to see if we can get the dock to charge up our proton accumulators before we leave. Unless you find an Omega particle to throw into the converters, we can’t do that without the core.”
  
  
  An’riel twitched a little at that. Post-scarcity economy or no, starships required enormous amounts of energy, and the R.R.W. Think of Something An’riel had the usual problems of Rihannsu designed compare to dilithium armatures for spare energy. And the tech in the ship was ready for a species that built Spheres, expecting far more spare energy than they could provide with mere fusion.
  
  
  Still, she didn’t like to think about her enemy was willing to play even riskier than the Tal Shiar, and that had cost quite a bit for the Republic to break their madness into crazed whispers at the edge of their space.
  
  
  
  “I think we can get the dock to do that, it is more a matter of capacitance than voltage,” An’riel said, “I will talk to the commandant about diverting some power. Tovan, I know we discussed earlier, but no problems with weapon systems?”
  
  
  “No, they’ve passed all checks. As you noted, the bays are pretty modular so they’ve been pretty straightforward,” Tovan reported, not bothering with a PADD. “We’ve completed pre-firing tests and full diagnostics. The crew’s still settling in but they’ve got the basics in. I guess we’ll be getting live-fire tests sooner than I hoped.”
  
  
  Jalel confirmed, “Reran level-five diagnostics before coming in here – no issues after the core installation for weapons or sensors. Transporter inhibitors retested for critical areas, no gaps in coverage zones.” The Trill tapped his hands on the table and leaned back, looking eager. Like most Trills in An’riel’s (limited) experience who were unjoined, he was a classic overachiever, even by Starfleet’s cheerful standards of exuberance.
  
  
  “Well done,” An’riel said, “Satra, I am sorry I have not been able to follow up as well as I liked – how are we doing on stocking the labs?” Even if exploration for its own sake wasn’t quite the virtue in the Federation, a science ship could be asked on all sorts of missions, but base plants and cultures for biologicals were harder to get in the sphere.
  
  
  The doctor frowned, “I did some horse-trading with some backup graviton generators, but one of the Pathfinders gave us half their base seed supply, I can force clone most of the basics of what we’ll need from there. The medical lab equipment has passed checks and I’ve been synthesizing extra hyronalin, since we’re expecting radiation damage. The individual lab chiefs haven’t reported any new issues but they’re still getting sorted. Could we get the cargo bay on C deck? I know it’s a floor up, but the turbolift arrangement means it is actually better located to most of the labs.”
  
  
  “See me after the meeting,” An’riel said, “Now – what about fleet support?”
  
  
  “Element-twisting witchery seems set,” Satra said, wryly. The petit Rihannsu was mainly a doctor, but An’riel had liked her organizational skills enough to give her the science department… and enough cross-training that she could man a bridge station without any worries “The usual loadout configuration seems set – Hiven, you had the deflector report,” she directed.
  
  
  The broad-shouldered second science officer did bother to check a PADD, “No interaction problems detected. Getting the core in place and the ship sealed up helped let us test the long-range sensors, and we were able to smooth out the wave patterns to fix those anti-ghost artifacts we were expecting. We’ve tested the projector assemblies across wavelengths at low power, and detected no issues. We’re configuring for our preferred combat loadout right now and it’s looking about the same as always, so I’m not expecting problems in the live-fire tests.”
  
  
  
  An’riel nodded. Sensors were her specialty, and the elements that made it up a science ship’s deflector assembly lacked in raw power compared to the directed energy capability of a weapon mount, but made up for in vast flexibility as a projection system. Sticking two on seemed a little over-enthusiastic, but it improved the fine-control at close range and let them get a little more warp speed out of her. Two sensors had the possibility of sending each other false returns, but they’d driven a science warbird before and that was one of their few expected glitches.
  
  
  “Excellent work, all of you,” she said warmly, “And just a little more and I think I can promise a day off.” She tapped the screen over to local Sphere space. “As I said, we are to engage in a misinformation campaign by targeting Iconian probes hidden within locations of the Sphere. Elements within the Sphere seem to continue producing them, and they generally have been passive until actively probed or fired upon, but Intelligence expects that to change soon.”
  
  
  She tapped another command, highlighting various regions. “While they were considered a minor issue compared to the Voth until this week, the KDF has commissioned some of their Houses to engage in a way to find them passively while masked.” There was a brief stir and An’riel smiled, “You know how they get when you tell them there is something they can’t see they want to punch. Since we are in thin atmosphere, the problems of stealth are magnified, and we found an infrared band the probes have to dump heat on while their antigravs are active.”
  
  
  Hiven frowned, “Infrared isn’t very noisy, Admiral. I back my crews, but even out of cloak we’d have to be nearly on top of them to confirm a target without spending a week passively scanning.”
  
  
  “Agreed,” An’riel said, “And fortunately, Dyson Command has spent a week passively scanning.” She tapped a command, and the highlights shrunk down into various dots, before a green line with a crude silhouette of their ship crossed the map. “Command asked us to do it since they know our reputation, and are asking for a clean sweep in these five areas, but in a particular order to facilitate their deception routine, ending at the brown dwarf. If this works, we can draw down our forces in the Delta Quadrant and move our most experienced pickets back to Alliance space.”
  
  
  “The route takes us near Voth zones, however, so we will need to be alert for their pickets. Things have been quiet in the Sphere with the Vaadwaur pulling back from some of their conquered territory, but last I heard they have not responded to armistice requests. Jalel, anything on the Federation rumor front?” An’riel asked.
  
  
  The Trill shrugged, “Starfleet has the Voth down the threat list since we’ve been able to expand our automated defense lines around more Omega-producing zones after the Undine withdrawal. I asked, but my friend in the Diplomatic Corps said their… under the table contacts haven’t reported any change in the Voth’s Doctrine.”
  
  
  “Typical, end of the world breathing down our necks,” Tovan muttered.
  
  
  “Unfortunately, yes,” An’riel said, “They out-stubborn Sela, and we know how she ended up, but they are a potential threat for now. However, Alliance command requested our engagement rules be wait until fired upon and I agreed. They currently are not in condition to disrupt subspace, and if we leave them, perhaps the Iconians will choke on them.”
  
  
  She checked her PADD for the agenda. “I think we have covered major systems for now. If the core activation goes well, we should be able to give the crew a little R&R on Earth. The ship really is being assembled well, and I do think taking advantage of these features may give us the extra edge in the coming days. Was there anything else?” An’riel asked.
  
  
  D’Vex looked around, then asked, “Admiral, do we have a ship name yet?”
  
  
  An’riel stirred uncomfortably, “Command assigned our warbird a hull number when the assembly command was given, but gave me the right of Naming.” She hesitated, then stood to pace a little, agitated, “I can feel the ship’s Elements coming together, but it has not spoken a Name to me yet. Phoenix feels too easy, somehow. Has the ship spoken to anyone yet?”
  
  
  There were assorted looks. Satra somewhat disbelieving and Jalel confused. Among the less-atheistic portions of the ship’s crew there were assorted mumbles.
  
  
  
  “Well,” An’riel said after a minute, “We have a little time after it is a proper starship with the singularity core to think of one, traditionally. And it has been more a collection of parts than a true whole this week, so perhaps a little distance from the dock will help.” No one still had any suggestions, so, “Departure in five hours for our mission. Continue final checks for singularity generation and final fitting-out. Satra, stay here afterward and we will see if we can fix your cargo issue. Everyone else, dismissed.” The group rose and saluted, dispersing quickly. Even if things had improved in the night, there was still much to be done.
  
  ********************
  
  Shuttle tug AF324 didn’t have the courtesy of having a name, but Ensign T’mlin loved his command anyway. The Catian’s tail twitched briefly as he flew by today’s assignment. He was two months out of the Academy, and here, thirty thousand light years from the Federation in an alien colossus. And with the losses and replacements the Fleet was going through, being so close to the front lines promised swift advancement. Some of his friends were already lieutenants, and two were bridge officers or duty shift officers.
  
  
  Of course, none of them were pilots, he thought smugly. On a ship, helmsman wasn’t usually a high ranking position, as important as it was. Push the buttons when the captain says, except for those few times a career when you got to excel. He was his whole bridge crew and didn’t have some stuffy commander or over-promoted captain breathing down his neck, plus he had three kills against the persistent Solanae swarmers already. He figured he kept that sort of thing up on what was technically a tug, and he’d be running a fighter wing somewhere, six months, tops.
  
  
  
  Unfortunately, it turned out his instructors had been right: even on the front lines most tasks were pretty routine. This hour was pretty much: tractor ship, pull ship out of spacedock without scratching it, watch ship fly away. True, he didn’t go out to Sector 7 very often – it was farther away from the supply depot and mainly designated as overflow, and the ship didn’t have a name logged yet. He entertained brief fantasies that it was some secret Intel op he was getting to brush, but figured someone hadn’t bothered to update the docs lately.
  
  
  It was interesting enough to bother reading the attached manifest. It was some Romulan captain of some renown, apparently, which was nice for her, but eh. Sure, he knew plenty of Romulans and his boss was one, but he sort of wished they’d pick a side properly and stop shooting each other. Most of his life, it seemed every year the Empire announced they’d had some new leader, so a commendation for his excellent piloting would probably be filed under ‘who cares’ even if seh’something was one that’d been farmed out to the Federation.
  
  
  Still, he thought, at least the Romulans made their warbirds look like proper hunting ships, with unified hulls reminding him of his home planet’s work, though more fowl than fish. True, they were long-distance ships, so they stuck the pylons out farther to sustain a warp bubble, but the usual Romulan double-wing helped bring it together and made it look proper instead of spindly like Starfleet ships.
  
  
  Also, the Romulans were at least a little challenging to launch. With the atmospheric conditions, the tractor was not just a courtesy item, and you had to balance multiple beams because they were generally so big. So there’s that.
  
  
  Also, this was one of the ones with the alien Solanae tech, superconductive alloys kept the ship stitched together with a lot less mass than normal hull space, and so they caught the wind a bit differently.
  
  
  
  Humming slightly one of the current pop hits he finished his brief inspection tour and settled in front of one of the dock’s open ends, signaling ready. The big ship rocked slightly as the grapples holding it in place disengaged, with a steady stream of shuttles leaving the other end, workers headed to the next assignment. The lights in the cockpit dimmed as the big graviton generators that took up a normal shuttle’s cargo bay spun up.
  
  
  “Ready for departure,” came an alto voice, carrying the faint tones of UT processing. Switching to rear view, he saw the running lights come on, with nacelle lights flickering faintly. Shrugging, he triggered the tractor beams. With a the big warbird providing matched bursts of RCS thruster to leave the shipyard, all he had to do was keep it steady, which he did well, naturally.
  
  
  The ship wobbled a little as it went into the atmosphere, and T’mlin swung through an easy corkscrew, providing a quick verification there were no obvious issues like pieces falling off. He kept pace as the ship drifted on thrusters, probably running double checks. He checked his clock as the ship went off – he had twenty minutes before his next task, so used the open space to run some corkscrews, because hey – be prepared, and the bigger ship with all its reaction mass left him behind.
  
  
  After about five minutes, his board lit up. Flashes of gamma radiation nearby. His sensors weren’t fantastic, but he knew what that meant around here – antiproton weaponry or someone had lost containment. The vector was the Romulan warbird, so probably the EM pulse of its impulse engine had woken up some swarmers.
  
  It happened, had to be embarrassing when you were a sneaky Romulan, though. T’mlin continued to sing to himself as he swung the shuttle around, ignoring a short message to back off. Providing support to pop off a swarmer or two didn’t look bad by any means, and the Federation was here to help each other out, right?
  
  
  He spotted the ship, sharp purple polaron pulses reaching out to bracket the enemy, which was too small to make out, but he would hit weapon range to support the ship before he could link up with the ship, so there was that.
  
  
  The probe’s antiproton pulse picked him off neatly at six kilometers away, giving T’mlin some recognition, if posthumous, as one of the Iconian War’s first casualties.
  
  *****************
  
  
  
  “What in the Void was he thinking?” An’riel fairly snarled. The debris hung in the air where a snapshot had caught the tug pilot, slowly settling towards the Sphere below. She couldn’t make out for the life of her why he’d kept coming when they told him to hold off, but it’d been downright senseless. Their status boards showed green, though weapon temperature was climbing as their turrets hunted for the small probes, but well within limits.
  
  
  “Energy reserves down to ninety-four percent. We’re seeing an upswing in targeting efficiency, crews are starting to get into the routine,” Tovan reported from weapons.
  
  
  An’riel dispensed orders, changing the ship’s arc slightly to catch one in their side weapons arc. Sensors responded well, and Tovan was able to flash-hit thruster assemblies and overheat manifolds on one of the probes, slowing it immensely as the ship slewed back around. Cannons barked, polaron particles splashing against the shield, rapidly degrading it before a photon torpedo exploded. Its shockwave shattered the small hull.
  
  
  The destroyer lurched briefly, lights flickering, and anxious eyes glanced at the status monitor, showing yellow over a spot on the port upper pylon. Veril reported over the engineering repeater after a moment, “Lucky hit –micro gamma burst against rear shield, no burn-through, repeat no burn-through. We’re engaging auto-decontamination routines. Outer and inner hull structural integrity holding.” Something shouted in the background, and Veril signed off with a “Gotta go!”
  
  
  “Bring us around four-seven degrees,” An’riel said, “Finish the other one, open up with secondary arrays.” The other probe darted, but the gunnery crews were beginning to get their rhythm, and a cone of polaron bolts bracketed the small automated enemy. Sensor lock showed power dropping as its shields collapsed, the small ship lacking the ability to continue enforcing its will on reality as power levels dropped. Polaron beam and specially contained proton flows intermingled, surrounding the small Iconian sphere with artificial lighting before plasma fire ripped from within it, tearing itself apart in death throes.
  
  
  The bridge crew burst into cheers, hearty for being blooded on the enemy without the catastrophic results of their earlier simulations. The ship was slightly singed on a few feathers, but had not blown itself up on a lucky weak spot. An’riel was silent, wondering about whose life would be filed as ended with a terse few sentences on her after-action report. He’d died for a ship that didn’t even have a name.
  
  
  “No other enemies show on short-range sensors,” Satra reported after a moment, “No signs of gateways opening within passive sensor range. Subspace picked up a omni-direction pulse, one of the probes got off a contact report.” An’riel nodded.
  
  
  “Power reserves at eighty-seven percent and rebuilding. No catastrophic harmonics within shields. Weapon temperature levels within pre-established parameters. No on-board casualties,” Tovan reported happily.
  
  
  “Bridge,” Veril came back over the repeater, “We have a problem. Tricorder results are not matching core’s internal sensors for outer field variance controls. Aborting singularity startup.”
  
  
  
  “Power-saving mode! Drop shields,” An’riel confirmed. The ship’s background hum quietened as systems went into standby. “How far in did we get?” Startup wasn’t a fast process, and so had begun before combat, which hadn’t helped the power reserves.
  
  
  “Matter stream was activated and beginning matter degeneration,” Veril said, half sing-song. “Inner containment fields were showing green across the board. The flow control fields were showing a power flicker on the matter-stream on independent scan that wasn’t showing on the main board. Subspace field generators were checking out, but I’m giving you impulse since we need to start venting plasma,” An’riel nodded and the ship went into slow motion as Veril continued. “It’ll take at least an hour to break down the generators for a diagnostic.”
  
  
  “Let us not rush in,” An’riel said, thinking. This was serious, but they had just fought Iconians, who loved computer virii almost as much as she did. “Restore singularity control software from backups and prepare restart first. Are we mission-killed?”
  
  
  There was a long pause from the line, “If we reverse the proton accelerator rings into the EPS taps I can maintain full impulse thrust while diverting plasma from the fusion reactors for another go, but it will be at least half-an-hour before we can try. I need to check the data conduits too before I risk anything,” Veril said reluctantly. “I don’t think we’ll need the yard if I need to rebuild the generator.
  
  
  An’riel thought for a moment. Veril did not want to be the one the crew looked at if their first mission ended in failure, but if she thought she could repair it out here, she could. A great captain is backed by a great crew, she reminded herself. And, to be honest, she did not want to end slinking back. Operationally, whole squadrons were now in motion, and she’d seen the casualty projections. Their ship and their life may not be worth it in the final cold exchange.
  
  
  “All right,” An’riel said, “We will continue on auxiliary power for now. Communications, prepare data package C for our first transmission.” The Uhlan managing communications now. Several pre-planned, and dense, coded traffic sets had been prepared as part of the misinformation campaign. An’riel believed they contained nothing, though she had not been told for sure. Their structure was the real message, from an operational perspective. C indicated mission continued, but unsure of full success.
  
  
  “Tovan,” she ordered after a minute’s further thought, “Have weapons shut down primary proton weapon and drop the encapsulation function from the polaron weapons. Not having to rebuild proton flow will help our fuel consumption,” she said, more for the junior officers’ benefit. It would cut their firepower by perhaps a third, but keeping the ‘proton sabot’ function offline would keep energy reserves from falling as dramatically as they had in a two-minute battle.
  
  
  Tovan nodded and went to work, “Weapons report dropping the proton feeds for now. We’re going to see some improvement of the polaron coherency, but not enough to offset.” An’riel nodded. The protonic function delivered a heavy positive charged particle burst inside a polaron envelope. With a little luck, it would pass a solid hit through shields with heavy particles that deflectors could otherwise ward off. The experimental proton weapon wrapped its particle beam in a very complex set of fields to avoid being brushed away by navigational deflectors, and showed some promise, but the polaron beams offered a lesser effect in exchange for far easier construction.
  
  
  “All right, the next two groups are in our space so we should be able to get a distress signal off if we have to,” An’riel said, plunging forward. “Tovan, see if you can pull D’vex away from engineering to cut our cloak down if we do not have to mask our warp core signature. He worked on the Valorous before its refit so he should be able to come up with something.”
  
  
  Tovan nodded and left the bridge at a run. “An’riel to Veril – we are going to circle here until you have things locked down,” An’riel said, and moved over towards science. A shuttle pilot dead and the ship’s heart still, and still no name.
  
  
  
  Satra shifted slightly as An’riel started tapping on one of the holographic displays. “If our own warp engines remain off line, we can improve our passive range a little,” she lectured, “Especially to avoid getting ambushed in the rear quarter. I think we have some time, so can you bring up the gravity well settings? We should be able to use less power if we take advantage of the atmosphere up here.” The crew settled into work.
  
  
  
  ************
  
  
  An hour later, things were looking better from at least the Admiralty level, with two more clusters removed. With the probes’ masters assuming they were generally safe, their low power cloak had proven safe against passive scans. Knowing the general Iconian position, they’d been able to form a temporary gravimetric point, and hammer the resulting gathered cluster of enemies with torpedoes and cannon fire.
  
  
  They’d picked up, faintly on sensors as they left the combat zones the flicker of ships moving in the distance of the Sphere, shuffling to a pattern unknown to the field. They puttered along under cloak at low-power towards their next target, this on the fringes of Voth space. An’riel had left the bridge a half-hour ago, feeling on alert status between threats she could do more as a spare tricorder in engineering.
  
  
  That cavernous space really showed its hybrid nature, with the stilled rings of the singularity shielding surrounded by normal green consoles and lights, with the light of individual workstations or the gleam of Horta shuffling around. The ordinary singularity core was a platform suspended within a hollow purple sphere of Solanae alloys, with pop-out walkways as people moved between stations, and holographic workstations around the edges of the room to support power distribution and support systems.
  
  
  
  Now, after ten minutes in, one of Veril’s teams had found the point, the dark Reman and light Rihannsu looking on as their engineering chief and captain examined part of the field emitters through a molecular microscope.
  “Excellent work catching this,” An’riel commented, adjusting the scope slightly, “Definitely replicated material in the magnetic shielding here.”
  
  
  “On a brand new system, what sort of corners are they cutting?” Veril fumed. Replication was fine for non-detail work, but circuits only a few molecules apart were very prone to failure when replicated, thanks to the common single-bit errors spreading chaos through replicated materials.
  
  
  
  “I do not think these came from the Solanae fabricators, this is not a Federation replicator pattern,” An’riel commented on, “It might be Imperial, it has been a long time since I have seen anything out of a replicator that did not originate in the Federation in our space.” She moved to let Veril move in again, “So this would deform the field originating in the subspace emitter sections, correct?”
  
  
  “Just barely,” Veril said, “The magnetic flux caused micro power fluctuations in the gravitic shielding, and threw off the subspace components. We probably would have been fine until we tried a subspace jump, though I’d say fifty-fifty for any problems there. All the signals on either side looked fine. I still think we would have caught it, but we’ve restored the control software from backup. I’m having one of the labs run up some additional monitors, and the computer team is double-checking the archived code. The spares are checking out, we’ll replace it and toss that.”
  
  
  “I think we need to keep that,” An’riel said sharply, “We can backtrack on the installation logs, the core was supposed to be completely assembled for installation a few months ago. Someone knew these components better than we did to try this – we will need to forward this back to the shipyards to check the rest of the ships in this class.”
  
  
  Veril nodded, grimacing more than usual, and said, “There aren’t that many Caprimuls. The core installation’s a little different between the variants so it could be specific to them, and no one had bad luck through a jump yet.” That they could be specially sabotaged went unsaid surrounded by crewmen.
  
  
  “Keep the part and see if you can find the assembly logs for the core,” An’riel said, “Dyson Command will want an investigation.” An’riel checked a PADD, “We should be coming up on our next target area soon. How are power levels?”
  
  
  “Hovering around eighty-three percent right now. Deuterium levels are down by about five percent. They really didn’t build long legs into it, and she wasn’t intended to be in battle conditions without main power,” Veril said.
  
  
  An’riel glanced over at said main reactor, where one of the Solanae style pillars on the edge of the singularity sphere was still spilling its guts, awaiting replacement. “How long will that take?”
  
  
  “One more run-over to make sure the spares are actually properly made,” Veril said, “And I still need the lab to finish with those monitors and get them installed. If we could stay still for a little while, it will help getting the matter stream heated up enough to start converting it to degenerate matter. It’ll use a lot of power and run our fuel down a bit to get the singularity up,” the Reman finished glumly.
  
  
  
  “I have been thinking about that, but there may be a fuel bunker closer than back at the supply depot,” An’riel said, “Thermal shielding systems are still running fine?”
  
  
  “Yes….” Veril said cautiously, and then blinked. “Oh, you can’t be thinking that.”
  
  
  “The major problem with ramscoops,” An’riel said, quoting, “Is the low density of hydrogen in the stellar medium. And suns actually use very little of their overall mass of hydrogen.”
  
  
  “I’d have to check if we can expose the ramscoops,” Veril said, “I guess it should work, in theory, but I don’t think the filtration system was designed for hydrogen that energetic.”
  
  
  An’riel pointed at the core, “Could you bypass to that?” she asked, “The core wants energized matter, not hydrogen plasma specifically, so it could compress it down, and not having to tap the EPS for that would help the power cost of startup.”
  
  
  “That has to be crazy,” Veril said, “I’ve never heard of anyone doing that before.”
  
  
  “We do sort of live in special circumstances,” An’riel agreed, “But it would be a good shakedown of the power components, and it would save you a lot of time once the core is ready.” She smiled, dangerously, “And we do have all these shiny new toys, so we should see what its greatest advantages are.”
  
  
  “It’s done pretty well so far,” Veril said, and gave a couple beats. “What are we calling it again?”
  
  
  The Rihannsu crewman still standing nearby nearly snickered but managed to control it as his boss, and her boss, gave him a look. He was spared any follow-up, when the ship’s chimes intoned battle alert.
  
  
  An’riel’s wrist beeped, “Primary bridge crew to battle stations please,” Tovan’s voice came over, sounding worried. “We’re picking up something additional in zone four, and Admiral, it looks Voth.”
  
  
  An’riel glanced at Veril, who nodded. “I’ll be along in under a minute,” the Reman nodded, “Just have to finish detailing the work crews.”
  
  
  An’riel broke off at a hurried walk as acknowledgement. Running through the ship, even at battle alert, just was not in the Rihannsu race’s character for its leaders. Confidence must always be projected wherever possible, as An’riel had learned, and so she stately fast-walked to the turbolift.
  
  
  **********************
  
  
  
  Arriving at the bridge, Tovan moved from the command station back over to weapons, as the command station’s screens shimmered over to An’riel’s preferences at her approach. That was still taking some getting used to.
  
  
  “Report,” she said aloud as the chair formed at her presence as she sat down, and began taking in the tactical report.
  
  
  “We are under cloak, no penetration attempts detected. Thirty kilometers away from target zone. Uncloaked contact detected on perimeter of zone, low power signature. Sensors checked the thermal bloom decay – the probes have recently moved.”
  
  
  “Gamma ray flashes?” An’riel asked, rotating the tactical display.
  
  
  
  “Nothing showing above background,” Satra answered, “If there was any violence, it’s been over for a little while. I am seeing light backscatter off debris drifting down towards the Sphere, but unable to determine mass.”
  
  
  “Ready a stealth atmospheric probe, no transmitter, configure it to go active after fifteen kilometers and we will catch the pulse’s reflection,” An’riel stated, unsurprised when she had been anticipated enough that it was ready in under a minute. The ship barely shifted as the projectile was launched, returning a ghostly layout of surrounding space as it burnt its sensors out.
  
  
  “That’s a Palisade,” Tovan said, checking the silhouette against warbook. “At least three Iconians surrounding it. Doesn’t look anyone tried a weapons lock on the probe.”
  
  
  “Possibly a tractor beam field or the Palisade has enough motive power to maintain position,” Satra said, “But some sort of artificial graviton reaction, certainly. Does not look like from refraction that the warp is up.”
  
  
  “Let us see how the Voth will respond to kindness,” An’riel said. “Maintain cloak, charge weapons and ready shields.”
  
  
  The ship proceeded forward, crew moving quietly, reinforcing the code of silence of cloak. Approaching combat range helped resolve the situation visually. Three of the near-featureless Iconian probe spheres were darting around a Voth frigate, leaking plasma from a nacelle as fires licked within residential sections.
  
  
  
  “Life signs?” An’riel asked as the ship slid to a stop.
  
  
  “At least half the crew from what I can read,” Satra answered grimly.
  
  
  “Then let us hope this is a trap for the Voth and not ourselves,” An’riel said, “Full priority to tactical systems on computer, prepare to decloak and begin tactical sensor scans of the probes.”
  
  
  
  The bridge crew went to work. There was a shimmer, more felt than seen, as the cloak disengage, and the crack of polaron discharges echoed through the hull. The screen showed violet bolts racing from below the viewpoint towards each of the spheres in turn, which flared with Cherenkov radiation as deflector shields struggled to abate the tide of energy. The probes, in spite of advanced technology, weren’t big enough to load much of it, and the first exploded under the strain.
  
  
  With power low, however, their own shields’ dispersion ability was lower than normal, and their own forward shield’s capacity was beginning to overload, despite distributing energy from the other emitters. An’riel however, preferred to cheat as they targeted the second ship. “Battery power to weapon capacitors – transfer EPS load to deflector and secondary. Engage tachyon beam.”
  
  
  The probe’s shields rippled as the FTL particles tore at the subspace lattices underlying the shields’ integrity. The secondary deflector set up a harmonic, reinforcing their shields, effectively, at the expense of the enemy’s, buying some time. “Ready torpedo with high-density warhead, bring ship three-zero degrees to port, target shields,” An’riel ordered. A brief flare of red light lit the screen as a photon torpedo casing, trading engine for additional firepower, started crawling to the enemy, before the ship skewed, polaron beam array using their vast sensor array to best advantage, disrupting enemy shielding.
  
  
  The Cherenkov radiation on the second probe flared and died as the facing shield collapsed, followed shortly by the heavy torpedo ripping into the enemy, causing a flare of light as it triggered a graviton pulse that ripped at the probe with tidal effects. It crumpled, then exploded outward in a haze of radiation.
  
  
  “Power back to weapons, finish the last one, and bring us in,” An’riel ordered. With one probe left against a destroyer, even in their crippled state, it was no contest, exploding shortly as well under a barrage of fire. The destroyer, shields in electronic tatters, drifted to the Voth frigate.
  
  
  At closer perusal, they could see a vast hole carved into the flank. “I am very impressed it is intact,” Hiven commented, running close-in scans. “Plenty of life-signs. Looks like emergency force fields in some sections, main power is offline.”
  
  
  “Hail them,” An’riel said, but no response came from the frigate.
  
  
  
  “Crew compliment of a Palisade?” she asked after a minute.
  
  
  Satra replied, “500 when brought into our service.”
  
  
  
  An’riel tapped her leg, missing her armrests again. Far too many crew, even with losses, for her to try and secure on board, since they had to assume the Voth were hostile.
  
  
  
  “Rig for towing,” she said shortly, “We will try and drift it in the direction of the Voth sentry lines and they will have to handle it. We are not a prison ship, and we have one more pocket to handle. Send data packet acknowledgement to Dyson Command.”
  
  
  
  Acknowledgements followed and a tractor beam licked out to reach the stricken ship. Cautiously, the destroyer wheeled in the direction of Voth lines, fighting the inertia.
  
  
  
  Several minutes passed tensely, in near silence. An’riel was half expecting a Voth dreadnought to decloak off their bow, but nothing so dramatic happened.
  
  
  Finally, Satra reported, “Picking up a Voth Bastion-class cruiser uncloaked moving in our direction. Weapons are armed and its shields are up.”
  
  
  “Hail them,” An’riel replied instantly. “Drop tractor and back us off.” The non-combat tractor dropped as they turned rapidly, snapping the frigate in the direction of the cruiser.
  
  
  “I have them,” Jalel reported, “Switching to center viewer.” The hologram showed a typical looking Voth, scaly, with a swept back head crest.
  
  
  “Attention, mammal vessel. You will release your captive ship immediately and stand down,” the Voth intoned.
  
  
  An’riel twitched a little. After everything, the Voth were still dismissive of most other species. She called upon her training to answer, “We are doing so now, Captain….” No response was forthcoming. “We encountered your race’s ship as having been crippled by Iconian probes. We lack the facilities to provide proper treatment aboard. In the spirit of our governments facing a larger threat, we have returned the ship to your lines rather than intern it.”
  
  
  
  The Voth nodded, then looked sharply at something out of range. “Mammal treachery! You will not take our territory!” he hissed and closed the channel.
  
  
  “What?” An’riel twisted in her seat to look at Satra who was also baffled. “Captain, I swear by my name we have not attacked that ship.” The channel closed in response. “Helm, plot escape vector.”
  
  
  “Energy surge from the frigate!” Satra said suddenly. She brought it up on screen. The hole that they had noticed previously suddenly shimmered, and An’riel could hear Tovan curse as an Iconian probe decloaked from within the Palisade. An’riel frowned. This one looked a little larger, and suddenly it shimmered, sending forth a wave of energy that washed over the surrounding ships. An’riel could just see the Palisade lose antimatter containment and explode before the bridge display broke apart into colors. It reformed after a moment, then went back to random colors as the lights flickered overhead.
  
  
  “Damage control, electronic warfare attack through hull systems!” An’riel said into her own communicator as Veril, cursing, pulled a stand-alone computer unit. The probe had just burned its energy reserves to introduce a viral probe through quantum induction into their computer network. The active foreign programs were easier to handle than the worm version, but they were going to have spot failures all over the ship at the moment. None of the controls seemed non-responsive, but red lights flickered on status displays.
  
  
  Veril pecked at her computer, and then with a smile, fairly stabbed the enter key. The lights steadied as she isolated the bridge. “Excellent work – full impulse power helm, away from the Bastion. There is no force in the Quadrant that could convince their captain this was not our idea right now,” An’riel ordered.
  
  
  The ship wallowed briefly, and began to turn, steadying as it went. An’riel switched her own display to still-spotty tactical. The Bastion was drifting, randomly firing weapons from its rear arrays momentarily, but sensors showed the power flux in its systems was decreasing, and as she watched, its impulse engines kicked back in, but they were out of weapons range for the moment.
  
  
  After a minute, Veril grinned again and tapped her screen, reestablishing the physical links to the ship and the ride smoothed out. Jalel reported, “Damage control teams report they have it identified the polymorphic virus base form, but it will be a few minutes to clear it out of secondary systems.”
  
  
  
  “Energy reserves?” An’riel asked.
  
  
  “Ninety percent technically, but batteries are drained and shields are at thirty percent capacity,” D’Vex reported, as Veril was still virus hunting. “Most of our accumulators are still drained – high-energy systems have limited functionality.”
  
  
  “Hiven, does the Bastion still have a sensor lock on us, or is there any chance we could jam it?” An’riel asked. Even a weak sensor mask took a fair amount of energy. Cloaking at this range was worse than useless if they were being actively tracked without having the singularity’s resources to divert sensor pulses.
  
  
  “Yes sir,” he reported, “He’s pinging us so hard that the defense system is registering the pulses. He’s not trying to close the gap yet, though.”
  
  
  An’riel pulled up the tactical display, and nodded. Their random course was cutting near Voth space, so all the Bastion had to do was track them until something could cut them off and force them to slow down. They definitely weren’t in shape to attack a cruiser currently.
  
  
  “Continue present speed,” An’riel said, thinking. “Veril, get back down to engineering. We may have to do the foolish thing we were considering.” The Reman rolled her eyes but stood up. “Satra, bring up the current weather map for the brown dwarf. Helm, put us on a least-time parabolic to the last waypoint on our patrol. Tovan, keep an eye on the Bastion, when it moves to pursue, send Data Package E on tightbeam.” Another random noise, its pattern indicated under enemy attack. With luck, one of the ship’s on the solar patrol would be available, or An’riel would need to do something she was pretty sure was possible, but was objectively foolish.
  
  
  
  The ship, still out of weapons range of its pursuer, began a turn, lifting towards the light of the shrunken star at the heart of the Sphere. The Bastion, after a brief hesitation, clawed for altitude to follow. An’riel walked over to the science station to check the ‘weather’ map when it became apparent the cruiser wasn’t quite prepared to dash into weapons range. It was, An’riel reflected, probably confident it could crush them against the sun’s photosphere.
  
  
  After several minutes, An’riel sketched out several small course corrections on tactical, and then ran some numbers. “Helm, take my numbers and refine them. I want an orbit with perihelion in the corona, and we probably are going to have to dodge around some Voth patrols, but if you can get our approach vector just shy of too shallow at the coordinates I am sending, that would be excellent.” The Uhlan, sweating slightly at the light of the star centered in his console’s viewscreen, merely nodded.
  
  
  Satra asked, “And what about the Iconian probes we’re racing towards?” Her tone held no condemnation, merely questioning.
  
  
  “I think if the Iconians are trying to sow dissension, they will be on our side for once,” An’riel remarked. “But they probably won’t have a chance to catch up since we will be at full speed.”
  
  
  An’riel checked – at maximum impulse possible in the thin atmosphere, they’d be hitting ‘vacuum’ caused by the solar wind in another few minutes now that they were going straight vertical, and it wouldn’t be long to cover a mere AU after that. The second biggest difficulty was they weren’t able to rebuild their shields. The largest, of course, was that they were diving towards a giant ball of fire.
  
  
  
  On that thought, and to keep up the front of calm, she went back to her console and pulled up that name list she’d looked at briefly earlier. Perhaps the Elements did want her to go with Phoenix? The firebird myth was fairly common, and Romulus had had some hawks whose plumage had influence Rihannsu heraldry past the death of the planet, the vast yellow and red bird of prey that had haunted Earth Starfleet centuries ago.
  
  
  More or less on a whim, she reran the random sort she’d chosen earlier, then her eyes narrowed when the same result topped the list. Somewhat disbelievingly, she started to pull up the definition when Veril reported in.
  
  
  “Ramscoop filtration systems match other components thermal tolerances. We are rerouting into accelerator system now. Computer simulation passed, so D’Vex owes me a drink,” Veril reported. “We hit some transient energy surges checking the field systems, but we haven’t gotten all clear on the virus yet. Testing subsidiary systems, we need five minutes.”
  
  
  “Understood,” An’riel said, “If you can get us any more out of the impulse engines meanwhile.”
  
  
  “No promises. Engineering out.”
  
  
  “Really?” An’riel asked the console, but it, as normal, stayed there waiting. “I am just curious, I am not dismissing it out of hand.” No reaction still, but that was normal. Well, she was either crazy, right, Tal Shiar programming was messing with her, or she was having a religious experience. Fifty percent was better odds than she had sometimes.
  
  
  “Bring up the pronunciation guide…. Huh, all right,” An’riel muttered, then hit all hands.
  
  
  “Attention all crew – my children, we stand at the final crucible of our shakedown cruise. I know some of you were worried after our round of testing, but installation is successful. We stand on the threshold of the heart of our vessel coming awake, and so I give it an ancient name of our allies, as a reminder once again that we must never fall down the old paths of fear that tore our people apart.”
  
  
  She stood. “Standing before the Elements, air beneath us, Earth and Water surrounding us, and Fire before us – I dub you the Romulan Republic Warbird Simurgh. Fly well and true through the storms that beset us until our people can take our true place of honor in the galaxy!”
  
  
  She sat, the bridge silent but for the small beeps and clicks of automated updates. Veril then came over the bridge PA, “Transient energy surges not present, singularity shielding checked out on recheck. Go for ramscoop-assisted core start.”
  
  
  “Understood,” An’riel said calmly, bringing up the ship’s status, and signing off on opening up some gaps in the forward shielding for the ramscoops Tovan and Veril had forwarded to her console. She checked the tactical display again. The particulate count was plummeting as the solar wind helped push the thin atmosphere towards the edges of the Sphere, and their speed was climbing as a result.
  
  
  
  At current speeds, and the short distance to the damaged star at the Sphere’s heart, they’d be in position in perhaps three minutes to shed speed into the sun’s corona. Or die in a nimbus of fire if the Simurgh didn’t live up to its engineers claims, but An’riel had been on the Dyson at the same sun, so she considered it unlikely. Also, she wouldn’t have much time to consider it if there turned out to be a problem.
  
  
  
  However, in about a minute with their current plotting they’d pass through the last Iconian ‘duck-blind’. She didn’t want to shed speed right now – it’d be too difficult to get up to speed, but her next steps relied on two of the most ancient races of the galaxy and how foolish they would be.
  
  
  The tactical board blinked briefly as an update came down. The Bastion, with its power systems in better shape, was cranking more speed as the medium thinned. Or its captain was willing to risk damage before the Simurgh reached the Alliance concentrations around the brown dwarf. Too many factors were still in play, and she had to cut down at least some.
  
  
  
  “Communications – prep message to the Voth,” An’riel said. “Give them the warning about the probes ahead and their probable locations based on what we have on passive detection.”
  
  
  Jalel started tapping, “Did you want to send tactical data, sir?”
  
  
  “Negative,” An’riel said almost immediately, “Let them work at it a little, maybe that will finally convince them of the virtues of cooperation.”
  
  
  “Understood,” Jalel said after a few seconds. She could sympathize with his confusion, if not quite understand it. The Federation practically saw data-exchange as a responsibility. “No response yet, Admiral.”
  
  
  “Thirty seconds to Iconian monitoring zone,” Satra reported. “We’re picking up some odd frequency flickers from the area – look like harmonics on the dwarf’s radiant frequencies. No ion trails or signs of movement, however.”
  
  
  “Old but good trick to do active sweeps against an energized body,” Hiven said, not looking up for a last-second diagnostic check on the deflector, “If we didn’t have the dwarf’s weather system so plotted we’d dismiss it as sensor artifact.”
  
  
  “See if you can get it plotted to tactical,” An’riel said, “The faster we have them locked in, the better. Tovan, at current speeds, how long do we have before the Bastion is also in weapons range of the probe locations given their acceleration curve?”
  
  
  Tovan responded, “Ten seconds, maybe – they could kick reserves if they needed. Admiral – given current energy levels, we don’t have emergency evasive.”
  
  
  “All right – engineering,” An’riel said, “Top off photonic capacitors now, and keep them there.” She tapped her consoles to bring up control. A holographic ship was a relatively simple trick. One that could fight required a good eye for local space conditions. Tovan – open fire once we have range”
  
  
  “Shielding as it is,” Hiven said, “They’ll probably be able to see that behind us.”
  
  
  
  “True, but the captain expects us to be aggressors anyway, so it will not change something as stubborn as a Voth,” An’riel said. The other benefit, while capacitors weren’t very efficient, they were less affected by subspace distortions or energy sumps compared to electro-plasma networks.
  
  
  Targeting range was hit, and the Simurgh vibrated slightly as its cannons gimbaled, spreading fire among targets. Bolts were cut short as they hit cloaking fields, as probes shimmered into visibility. Tovan pulled up a comm link with a raised eyebrow to An’riel’s station as he wordlessly sent the results of the first round of fire. Simurgh was showing a ten percent increase in effective damage, apparently through better sensor/cannon coordination and accuracy compared to her earlier strikes when not named. An’riel shrugged.
  
  
  The Elements aren’t always about direct faith, she typed back. It could be the crews.
  
  
  
  Or, Tovan replied via text, We have to remember to get the computer core something nice for naming in a year.
  
  Metaphysics had to give away to physics as the Bastion entered range. Space tore open before them and An’riel snapped out orders, feeling triumphant as a Tyken’s Rift tore into lower levels of space, centered on the probes, whose shields began to flicker. Simurgh’s engineering board reported effective power levels drop as local space grew less efficient, and the science destroyer struggled to slew around as RCS response grew fitful.
  
  
  “Tovan?” An’riel asked, hand hovering over to execute the photonics.
  
  
  Long association filled in the rest of the sentence to her exec, “Confirmed – showing multiple tracking locks and energy surge in enemy mass drivers, torpedo spread inbound!”
  
  
  “Brace for transphasic impact!” An’riel ordered as the Bastion spot repeated swarms of orange like, like angry hornets barreling towards its opponents. Voth technology meant they had more than a sting, trading off only a little warhead strength for shield penetration. The ship howled and lurched, status lights flickering to red as fire reached around and through Simurgh’s rear shields. The tactical display seemed to speed up as the ship was showed with inverted chronitons, effectively moving them to a slower reference frame than reality.
  
  
  Lights flickered as the ship struggled to ground out overloads and radiations on the bridge. An’riel smiled as the bridge appeared to float around her. Apparently, with good enough gyroscopes, one didn’t need armrests. She looked at the status screen and grimaced. The bridge had come through remarkably well, but that sort of red meant crew, her crew dying across decks.
  
  
  “Hull integrity at sixty-seven percent,” Jalel reported, “Breach and a plasma fire being contained on starboard upper pylon. Internal sensors report multiple casualties on decks seven and fifteen. Other casualty reports being collated. Radiation alarms behind frame ninety-three.”
  
  
  An’riel nodded but did not acknowledge as she slammed the execute button. Photonics were fairly self-sustaining after the initial power surge, so their still lowering energy levels weren’t a problem, but being composed literally of light, they were very fragile, and transphasics would have cut them apart, but it’d be a little bit before the Voth could prep that many casings again.
  
  
  Simurgh continued to slow as inertia carried it towards the Rift, but beginning to vector away. The ship lurched again as antiproton beams caught it from the side as the probes started to react. Meanwhile, multiple proud old D’deridex’s shimmering into being around them, plasma beams tearing into and apart the weakened probes, which started to explode rapidly from An’riel’s time altered perspective.
  
  
  An’riel cursed under her breath as the ship shuddered in the opposite direction, the Bastion opening fire into them and the probes. The rapid-fire tactical changes started to slow as the chronitons dissipated, apparently improving the fortification of the last two probes as they started to take longer to die. The Rift, meanwhile, started to fade. Energy-hungry as it was, it couldn’t last long before drinking its fill, and An’riel gave orders to bring them back around as the Bastion closed in.
  
  
  The last probes died and Simurgh sailed only a kilometer or two from where the rift had been, shields spalling under Voth antiprotons. An’riel leaned forward. The rift wasn’t changing to normal space with the sun’s light behind it, it was brightening to a smoky blue.
  
  
  “Full sensor analysis on the rift!” she ordered. “Get us some distance!”
  
  
  
  “Confirmed gateway – multiple probes in bound,” Satra reported. “Bastion is maneuvering to get between us and the gateway and is opening fire on both.”
  
  
  “Helm, bring us to original vector and maximum remaining acceleration,” An’riel said, “Continue active readings on gateway node. All power from weapons to engines, prepare ramscoops, and order gun crews to reconnect proton accelerator components. Began compiling damage report.” Simurgh slid around towards the sun as the Voth were distracted.
  
  
  There was a lot of red on the board. Most of it was shield emitters overloaded or overheated, and those would cycle quickly once out from under combat. The hull had serious stress throughout its structure, but molecular welding and a little attention at a spacedock would handle that. Most of their sensor systems were on backup from the subspace stress or power overloads, and she could live with that from a first combat situation. They’d know how to handle the strain better next time.
  
  
  
  If the ship survived, she’d consider it a successful shakedown, all in all. Things were starting to come together as the crew learned where and what they could push. When they hit dock, they’d know the ship as more than a series of components. And, even if this failed and they would plunge into the star, they had one last successful mission on their record.
  
  
  Behind them, sensors picked spikes of radiation even against the glare of the star and the eldritch energies of the gateway as coherent antiprotons splashed against shields and hulls. Then, a flare of radiation spiked higher as the Voth deployed aceton fields, probe engine signatures dropping off their sensors. As they reached the ends of weapon range, a final flare of radiation went high into the subspace bands squealed against their sensors before the gateway collapsed.
  
  
  The Bastion, scarred and glowing with radiation remained intact. Proof of Doctrine as it won a fight it didn’t have to fight. Brief puffs of flame burst from its hulls as plasma fires ravenously consumed all available oxygen before bulkheads and force fields cut it off. An’riel read with a practiced eye reports of impulse EM fields flaring back to life as it cut back into motion.
  
  
  “Estimate two minutes until corona has sufficient particle density,” Tovan reported, “Voth cruiser closing. Will be in weapons range in fifteen seconds. On the brighter side, weapon crews report protonic feed online, if we had any protons.”
  
  
  “Signal from Voth cruiser, sir,” Jalel reported.
  
  
  
  “Let them talk,” An’riel said, “Maybe they finally wish to end this. Begin reconfiguring shields to metaphasic mode.”
  
  
  
  The hologram split, showing the same scaly Voth head in four different directions so the crew could see. “Attention mammal vessel,” the captain intoned, while An’riel privately wrestled with putting a Horta on the feed. “Your attempts to utilize our ancestors’ technology in the Sphere have been noted before, but your copies remain insufficient. We have noted your trajectory- it will not carry you into the photosphere, and my ship will follow you anywhere through the corona. Surrender and spare your crew further tragedy.”
  
  
  
  “Captain,” An’riel replied, “While my ship is the fruit of analyzing the technology here, it is a hybrid, not a shallow copy. Rest assured the gateway was not our doing, and is the product of an ancient and terrifying race, one that desires dominion over the entire Milky Way. They are preparing to begin their purge, and I implore you to stand down. Our governments’ conflict must be put aside for the duration. Our interest in the Sphere originated in allowing the stars to remain free for commerce and people across the galaxy, and so it remains.”
  
  
  “Mammal lies!” the captain said, almost nervously, An’riel noted. “The Voth are the first race of the Galaxy! Your attempts to confuse the issue to incite the Voth to fall away from the Doctrine will not succeed! If you persist in these fallacie

  Fate - protects fools, small children, and ships named Enterprise Will Riker
  
  Member Access Denied Armada!
  
  My forum single-issue of rage: Make the Proton Experimental Weapon go for subsystem targetting!

  0
• cmdrscarlet Member Posts: 5,137 Arc User

  June 2015 edited June 2015

  The small pond in the Academy quad seemed to be perpetually serene. It was that perception that attracted Kathryn to this place after her first year. She did her best to schedule classes to allow time to eat lunch at the quad grounds. That time was one of a handful of hours she was not otherwise sleeping, studying or attending class. Looking into the pond, a few fish swimming darted back and forth, yet their motions didn't disturb the water's surface. On more than one accession, Kathryn would touch the water's edge to see if it was replaced with a hologram, and every time she was surprised to feel cool liquid to her touch.
  
  A nearby tree provided the few seats other cadets could use from its radiating roots. She climbed onto a large root that protruded from the ground. It twisted back into the earth and the apex of the wood was well worn with years of use from other cadets. Kathryn mused how she always found the spot empty, as if everyone on campus knew this was her spot during the mid-day to enjoy her lunch and quiet-time.
  
  Kathryn was several years older than the average cadet and that set her apart from most of her classmates. It may also have contributed to her lack of friends in reasonable quantity. It really didn't bother her as she dedicated the bulk of her time 'catching up'. At least that was her opinion. Being a slave to the Orions, her subsequent escape and the journey back to Earth, took a lot of time that would have, should have been spent in any other way.
  
  She pulled her satchel forward as she sat down on the root and grabbed a pre-made sandwich box. After taking a bite, she let the juices from the replicated meat tingle her taste buds. Smiling from the strong flavor of Sarnakian Cured Beef, she pulled out a PADD from the satchel. Chewing slowly, she pushed back loose strands of burgundy hair and tucked them behind her ear. The PADD activated to the latest entry: a lecture on stellar cartography in the Beta Quadrant.
  
  Being mid-day, several cadets walked on the pathway nearby, so Kathryn was used to the soft steps taken by others. Yet, it was the moving shadow over the edge of the pond that caught her attention. Looking up, Kathryn squinted from the sunlight to see a human male. He wore a similar cadets uniform with Science colors and stopped from coming closer.
  
  "I hope you don't mind if I sit?"
  
  Kathryn got used to the bright light and shook her head, watching the man sit next to the root's entrance into the ground. His brown hair was longer than most others but still within regulation. A sharp jawline supported average cheekbones and a pointed nose. Full lips were licked to stay moist. After crossing his legs he looked up to Kathryn and smiled. She privately commented how his hazel-colored eyes seemed to invite her to return the smile with her own.
  
  He looked back to the pond. "The water is always calm, that's why I like sitting here."
  
  "Is that right?" She was a little surprised at his comment and curiosity was piqued.
  
  Nodding, he looked back to Kathryn. "I don't usually come here during the day. I take nightly jogs around campus after class and stop here to rest."
  
  Kathryn nodded and took a bite of her sandwich to keep from replying. She also caught herself wanting him to keep talking. His voice was strangely soothing. It reminded her of the automated reminders around campus.
  
  "That must be a good sandwich?"
  
  She swallowed the bite and nodded. "Just something I put together."
  
  He looked at her PADD. "What are you studying?"
  
  Handing him the device, she recognized he had not introduced himself yet and decided to go along anyway. "Professor Worriz's idea to track Tetryon emissions during a sensor analysis of local system space is interesting."
  
  The younger cadet nodded as he read a few lines, and then returned the PADD to Kathryn. "Are you majoring in Astrometrics?"
  
  Kathryn looked at her sandwich, took another bite intentionally and shrugged.
  
  "I see. Please forgive my prying." He leaned toward her and extended his hand. "I'm Kyle Retarius."
  
  Swallowing her morsel, Kathryn reached for Kyle's hand. "Kathryn Beringer."
  
  His grip was gentle, yet firm and he held hand her hand until she pulled away first.
  
  "Now it's my turn, what's your major?" Kathryn took another bite larger than the others.
  
  Kyle looked over his shoulder opposite Kathryn before responding. "Temporal mechanics."
  
  Kathryn nodded as she chewed.
  
  "I've always been curious about the idea where a small change in the past can be so impactful to the future. I mean, is it possible that killing a single mosquito in prehistoric times could say, kill all the dinosaurs?" Kyle paused. "That's a bit extreme. Actually that's a very silly example, but you see what I mean?"
  
  Nodding again Kathryn replied, "well, maybe not probable, but possible? Good luck with those studies, I had to retake the introductory class because the subject is not intuitive to me."
  
  Kyle smiled and shrugged humbly. "I must admit that I've noticed you sitting here regularly. Would you be interested in dinner with me? I know a Pan-European bistro downtown that serves a dish you must experience with me."
  
  Kathryn raised her eyebrows. "Oh, really?" She looked into his eyes to see if he would look away, but Kyle did not blink. For several seconds Kathryn weighed options and there were really only two to consider: yes or no. Kyle was cute and so far pleasant. Anything resembling 'dating' since her escape from Orion captivity was really flings that had ulterior motives attached. Besides, all Kyle was offering was a shared meal. Maybe a break from her studies would do some good? Then again, she was not really interested in a relationship. Having one while also working a Starfleet career would be challenging, if not distracting.
  
  "Still thinking about it?"
  
  Kathryn blushed as she realized her pondering options took longer than usual. She made a choice and wanted to take control.
  
  "Sure. Yes. Are you free tomorrow night?"
  
  It was Kyle's turn to raise eyebrows. "Uh, yes, absolutely! I'll send a message with details?"
  
  He stood and wiped his pants clean.
  
  Kathryn nodded and smiled. Kyle started walking away with a triumphant smile on his face. Kathryn mused that he looked good in uniform.

  Kathryn S. Beringer - Endless Excelsior - Veritatum Liquido Cernerne - a proud off-meta build
  
  

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• cmdrscarlet Member Posts: 5,137 Arc User

  June 2015

  LC 19 - Perplexing Complexities
  
  ---
  Kathryn gripped her chair’s armrest as Solaris suddenly decelerated from warp. Inertial dampeners strained as the ship came to a full stop.
  
  The alarm claxon was silenced, yet the red warning lights still flashed.
  “Whomever did that thank you for reading my mind.”
  
  First officer Anthi Ythysi did not look up from her console and replied while tapping at various screens. “You’re welcome, sir.”
  
  Looking around, Kathryn could see everyone frantically reviewing data at their stations. “Status report.”
  
  Per standard procedure for an unknown event, Helmsman Ian McKinnon responded first. “Involuntary full stop from warp, engines offline.”
  
  From the Tactical station, Anthi spoke next, frustration easily heard in her voice. “Weapons systems are functional but offline. Shields are also offline.”
  
  Chief Science Officer Omazei quickly turned to Kathyrn to report, her short brown hair rested to the sides of her face as she calmly responded. “Short-range sensors do not detect any ships or stellar phenomena nearby. Log-range sensors are offline.”
  
  Kathryn nodded then spoke into the air. “Engineering, what’s going on?”
  
  Thel Ythysi, Solaris’ Chief Engineer spoke through quick breaths. “Port outboard impulse engine - has sustained massive - structural damage. Port nacelle structural - integrity down ten percent. Warp core – stable but – offline. Batteries operating – at one-hundred percent.”
  
  What happened, Kathryn whispered. She looked around the bridge again and the crew was calming down as the emergency settled into the new phase of recovery. Sitting in her command chair, she activated an armrest console and started reviewing high-clearance reports about the current situation and followed-up on information shared between stations. She noticed everyone was silent as they worked through their duties to assess Solaris’ status.
  
  The Vulcan Chief of Operations, S’Rel broke the relative silence, her calm voice further reducing the excitement. “Captain, repair crews have been routed to the affected areas, we have a visual of the damage from Work Bee Three.”
  
  Kathryn almost dreaded to see the damage, yet it was necessary. “On screen.” The screen flickered to an image of the ship’s primary hull. The Work Bee pilot was still maneuvering into position from the launch bay in the secondary hull, yet the damage seen caused Kathryn to gasp.
  
  A cylindrical trench was dug from the exhaust into the impulse engine housing. It was clean-cut and reminded Kathryn of how a Borg cutting beam could slice through any structure with ease and minimal peripheral damage.
  
  The Work Bee then turned on its x-axis to review the port-side nacelle. Along its length, it looks as if a large ball rolled down the structure, warping metal inward. Electric discharge flashed from random points along the photonic spill-port while green-colored gas vented from various plate joints around the lower half of the subspace field coil system.
  
  Three other Work Bees arrived and started repairs on the nacelle. Kathryn waved a hand to her neck in a chopping motion and turned to Anthi.
  
  “Senior staff meeting in one hour.”
  
  Anthi nodded, “aye, Captain.”
  
  +++
  
  The Chief Engineer was the last to enter the room. His uniform was dotted with dark smoke or stains as he arrived directly from Main Engineering with no time to clean-up. The Andorian wore a stern look on his face, more than normal. “Pardon me.”
  
  Kathryn nodded with understanding. She looked to her staff one-at-a-time before speaking. “So, something happened out there. We’ve all seen the result, now let’s find a cause. First, what can Solaris do … S’Rel?”
  
  The female Vulcan laced her fingers together. “In the time we have had to assess the situation, it is clear the ship is debilitated. Every primary system is offline, yet the batteries are keeping the ship functional. Unless we can get the Warp Core online, then the batteries have thirty-hours to sustain us. Naturally, reducing to minimal service levels will extend their capacity.”
  
  Thel tapped fingers on the table and then added, “about the Warp Core; I can’t explain it, but it and the primary capacitors were fully drained of power. The Dilithium crystals are intact and we are still working to rebalance the matter/anti-matter matrix. The Core was cold-started and when I left Engineering, it was estimated full functionality will be restored within ten hours.”
  
  “What about engines,” Kathryn queried.
  
  “The damaged impulse engine is utterly inoperable. We will need dry-dock to replace it. The port nacelle can be repaired, but I wouldn’t go past warp two.”
  
  Omazei grabbed a PADD on the table and started calculating.
  
  Kathryn waited for a few seconds before turning to her First officer. “Anthi, are we vulnerable sitting out here?”
  
  The Andorian sat straighter in her chair. “Sensor logs put us in the middle of nowhere. Without main shields, it’s the surface defense grid is keeping us safe from any micro-projectiles and radiation. Once the Warp Core power levels reach the minimum threshold, then shields and weapons will be available.”
  
  “Annika, any casualties?”
  
  The Chief Medical Officer brushed a lock of blonde hair from her face. “Only a few bruises from the sudden change in speed have been reported.”
  
  The Science Chief had finished her calculations and looked up to join the conversation. “The nearest dry-dock is at Arcturus. Travelling at warp two will get us there in three weeks.”
  
  Everyone in the room seemed to sit into their chairs deeper at the idea of a relatively long journey.
  
  Kathryn let it sink in for a few heartbeats longer before attempting to lighten the mood. “We’ve been in worse situations, so that doesn’t sound so bad. Now that we have an idea where we are, let’s get to what happened. Analysis?”
  
  Ian stood and pressed a key on the table. The wall monitor activated showing a rear-view video from the bridge tower. The scene was motionless and showed all four impulse engines in the fore-ground, with the nacelles pointing to the dark horizon. “Wait ‘till you see this.” Pressing another key the scene showed the stars whizzing past the ship; typical when travelling at warp speed.
  
  Suddenly, the outer port impulse engine and nacelle was damaged. Green gas started leaking from the nacelle, the ship clearly slowed down to stop.
  
  Ian looked from the monitor with a grin. “Catch that?”
  
  Everyone looked to each other and Kathryn spoke for the rest of the officers, “catch what? I didn’t see anything to cause the destruction of the engines.”
  
  “Exactly. There is nothing. I’ve poured over the records and what you saw was unaltered, unfiltered video of the incident. In one microsecond, the ship is fully operational, the next microsecond, [/]boom[/i].” To make his point, Ian looped the video in two second intervals: one second before, then after the event and slowed the playback to take ten seconds total. He stopped the video just before the transition from ‘normal’.
  
  A stream of light in the background was circled. “This is a passing star. THR-KD08 to be exact.” The video moved forward one frame and the damage appeared to the ship, while the streak continued its path. “As you can see, that star, along with the other stars we passed, moved as expected.”
  
  Kathryn was incredulous. “Ian, are you saying the event was instantaneous?”
  
  Ian nodded, “based on the evidence available, yes.”
  
  Omazei added, “Sensor logs do not find a trace of a power source or intervening object along our path.”
  
  Thel continued, “Repair teams did not detect any residual signatures at the contact surface along the nacelles or in the impulse engine.
  
  Kathryn looked at the officers with skepticism. “So … this just … happened?”
  
  Everyone else in the room looked at each other, and then nodded silently.

  Kathryn S. Beringer - Endless Excelsior - Veritatum Liquido Cernerne - a proud off-meta build
  
  

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• antonine3258 Member Posts: 2,391 Arc User

  June 2015

  ULC 10:
  
  Teaching the Next Generation (Part 2)
  
  
  Group Three. In approximately two hours, she would be determined if she held to her ancestors’ noble traditions of steadfastness, or if she would be one of the masses of middling science officers that staffed sections across Starfleet. She winced. She’d need to do better, relatively, than that alliteration if she wanted to win.
  Group One was in the holodecks now. They’d been given a half hour, and Tirana expected the difficulty was slightly lower since they’d have less time to prepare. Emotions and stray thoughts circled around her, as potential captains took the hints they were given and studied the Admiral’s early (relatively. Her rise had been meteoric, even considering the losses of the last year) exploits of a whole fourteen months ago. There was a fierce undercurrent of expectation. They’d made it this far. They’d be damned if they’d be found wanting for fierceness now.
  Tiriana could almost hear martial drums in the background. Commander Bowers had never given a compliment before the final. They’d come out swinging in Starfleet’s finest tradition against threats and – years of Betazoid training kept her physically controlled, but she nearly convulsed, as she realized how much she was thinking were not her thoughts, but the group consensus.
  Tirana tried to center herself – getting swept along in the wave of energy would only carry her into the middle of the rankings at best. She needed to find something for herself and find herself – empathy and telepathy could be double-edged swords. And so, trying to bring herself to herself and distance herself from the energy around her – she considered that web. She’d picked nothing up from Admiral Revka in her brief contact that was really a hint – the Admiral was young but she’d had conditioning. Her abilities were not giving opportunities here.
  Starfleet, despite appearances at the Academy sometimes, was not staffed by sadists. If they broke someone (and she remembered the weeping, audible as well as thought, from only two nights ago when that nice Rigellian lad had been unable to take the potential blood on his hands any longer) it was for their good and the good of the countless civilians who could be harmed by the power of a starship. An impossible test was only to force an officer to confront it could happen, not to break someone with frustration. But, Admiral Revka was an admiral, so it wasn’t impossible. If anything, she seemed worried the enemy would be too obvious to fight.
  Which meant, Tiriana thought, as she struggled for calm, in a period of stillness, it could be fought, but that wasn’t the optimal situation. But, as Admiral Revka still showed on her uniform, she’d been operations track, not tactical. It was unlikely she’d arranged some brilliant combination of maneuvers to maximize her firepower against some unknown enemy. Her early career was in cruisers – she could have just relied on her crew’s drilling to outlast the enemy, but that didn’t seem like a test.
  She considered if it was a test within a test that was not a test, but decided that lay madness. If it was that easy, then great, she’d take her rank bars and see what ship she was commissioned to. But great lineage, as her grandmother had told her, remained great by finding challenges. It was unworthy of her to consider.
  Could it be a matched challenge? She knew a few tricks with that gloriously multi-talented and extremely sensitive projector, the deflector/sensor combination across Starfleet vessels. Being in a position of command to time those tricks had some advantages – and she’d seen people putting training on other tracks to work too. It was possible, and she’d need to keep alert to those options.
  She decided to bet the dice that it wasn’t that. Tactical maneuvers versus engineering hot-rodding versus science tricks would be kinds of success not degrees. Full success would presumably be crippling or destruction of a fleeing ship. That was tricky, but a careful, skilled captain could do a lot with a tractor beam.
  Perhaps, then, Revka had been lucky. She had learned a lot on the job, but Tiriana had read her record – she’d collected the bridge crew that had followed her, more or less, early on the job, but their later success had been only glimmers of potential. It was hard, in the openness of space, to stop a ship with only a solo opponent if the enemy simply wanted to flee. Charging in aggressively would just get you caught in the glow of their warp coils as they escaped.
  Tirana smiled as she stayed still, centering still and considering. The mission objectives had been clearly stated. The speech following up, however, was a hint in another direction. Clearly, the simulation had begun.
  
  *******************
  
  Admiral Revka stayed in the holo-control room, watching the monitors. Group Three was beginning. The first ten had been interesting, in the last few hours. One had simply sent his holocrew to the escape pods and ramned as soon as the rest of the mission specs had been read. There’d been an elaborate cat and mouse game they’d finally had to call for time – they were already considering that officer for flag training. Anyone whose nerves stood out against a ship where a missed torpedo could be lethal was willing to play the odds.
  A few had begun a straight fight, and failed. They’d fought well, but, the ship had escaped. That’d been expected, Bowers had set the speech carefully to try and hit those common psychological triggers of a bit of aggression common in those selected for command. It’d been part of the plan to mimic a similar experience of a young captain on her first independent command. The depths of the psychological profile and expected reactions for a young(er) Antonine Revka the course leader had shown her was almost disturbingly thorough.
  She was starting to wonder how far back the Academy had seen a potential captain. She thought she’d taken those command electives for a lark and an early bridge post, but she was wondering how much she’d been pushed.
  “Admiral,” reported the technician, “All crews report ready and biomonitors are functioning. The captains are on the bridges. Should we bring up the starfield?”
  Antonine nodded, “Like last time, Ron – let’s see P’jem and put me on speaker.” The tech gave a thumbs up after a few minutes, as on the screens the five bridges came to life with the constant dim beeping of status monitors, and the low thrum of the ultimate status monitor – the bass beat of a warp coil in action. On a sixth screen, her script came up.
  “Attention captains – your final briefing begins. Your ship is located in the Sirius Sector. You are pursuing an Undine frigate,” she rolled her eyes briefly. She knew when she’d been there, it’d been a dreadnought. It was more or less rigged like one in simulation – this was one of the first combat encounters with the Undine, and a brand new enemy was a lot harder for a ship and its computer to ‘fight’ then one Starfleet had encountered, knew the capabilities, and been able to provide basic tac analysis.
  “It is refusing hails, and is carrying an Undine psi master who has been masquerading as a Federation official. The planet below you is full of civilians, but effectively defenseless. You are, right now, the only weapon between it and the planet. However, those civilians aided you in unmasking the infiltrator and you have just returned to your ship as the Undine has activated, so don’t discount them. If the frigate succeeds in escaping, it will surely continue to work to undermine Starfleet and Federation institutions. You have thirty seconds until simulation start.” Ron gave a thumbs down, the mic going off.
  Bowers asked, “Think any of them will see your answer?”
  Antonine said, “I’m hopeful any of them will. I’m not sure mine was optimum, but these captains have a lot more experience in Starfleet than I did when I made it.”
  Bowers smiled, “You know, when we show them the ‘best’ answer, it’s going to make them sick – if active fleet ops ever gets boring, I’m happy to have you on the Academy staff. You’re trapping them in their own confidence. With a little more practice, we can really have you doing some mind games.”
  Antonine sighed. Sometimes, the Federation bureaucracy generated far more alien behavior than anything she’d seen out on patrol.
  
  ****************************
  Tiriana thought. Nothing especially new had been said, besides information on the location. The planet was important, obviously – especially as a target. If the ship launched an assault on the planet to cover a warpout, they would have to intercept. Briefly, Tiriana wondered where possibly in the Sirius Sector a completely defenseless – she stopped at that thought, halfway down a listing of her tiny Miranda’s configuration.
  Sirius Sector, they’d mentioned briefly, then gone into the ship and capabilities and background. It was there, but deemphasized.
  They were in the very heart of the Federation.
  That was the real question. Not how to beat it, but how could a young, inexperienced captain from a barely-contacted world with no long space tradition fight and contain a powerful enemy from a species that thought in three-dimensional attack vectors instinctively?
  “She wasn’t thinking of proving herself or a test,” Tiriana murmured aloud… letting her centering slip a little to see if the staff would reveal anything. They were, sadly, too well trained.
  Fifteen seconds on the clock. If it was wrong, it could possibly be seen as giving up… but Revka didn’t know she’d be an admiral in twelve months. She was a lieutenant, probationary in command on interior patrol. There’d been a mention of an Undine attack, driven off, but that was it, almost casually, as if, once flushed, it had left.
  Apparently not. Tiriana wondered if, as this was before the Federation had woken to the danger, the encounter was still highly classified even after the Earth attack. There was no time, though. If she was wrong, she’d be weak. She gathered her ancestors at her back. This was her decision….
  To remove herself from the decision. It wasn’t about going to your limits, this time, it was knowing they exist and that a captain, powerful though they were, are just one ship, and one person. You relied on your bridge officers, you relied on your crew…. And if you were in the most heavily patrolled part of the Federation, you relied on the rest of the Starfleet you were a part of.
  The scenario flashed to active and Tiriana spoke rapidly. “Red alert – priority power to shields. Communications, leave a channel open if the Undine want to talk – but prepare distress call with message: ‘Under attack by potentially superior force. Request assistance.’ Attach our coordinates.”
  That got a flare of surprise, and Tiriana allowed herself a smirk of triumph.
  Communications reported back, “Sir – relief force indicates its gathering and will be here in just a few minutes.”
  “Understood,” Captain Tiriana said, “We’ll hold till then – keep fire on their engines as best we can – priority to point defense, though. Keep a sensor trace on them and get their warp signature logged.”
  *****************
  In the end, six people got what Antonine considered it. It wasn’t the best (she was still impressed by the cat and mouse game that ran out the clock) but it was a good lesson, especially with the Undine coming. A captain stood as the representative of Starfleet, a singular authority aboard ship… but a captain, even on the frontier, was never an island.
  They’d proven they had the initiative, but it was the Command Course’s final job, after finding those who could handle the stress, to impress upon them that, even brilliant captains were singular people, and they’d often be operating with other, often brilliant, captains. Starfleet’s mission profile allowed for ego, but sense of superiority was not.
  And then, with wars ending and beginning, it was the Command Course’s job the next day to turn around and do it for another batch of potential captains.
  Antonine was happy to leave them to it – her orders had finally come, the inquest clearing her of culpability for the loss of her ship, and she was headed to the transporter room at the Academy. She would get the Trafalgar, and be joining the action on the other side of the Jenolan Sphere. It would be the job of her, and many other captains working together, to find allies, friends, and new strength for the Alliance, before the demons of air and darkness descended.
  She wished the new captains well. The final had been about degrees after all – and any who made it that far would find a command somewhere in a fleet still desperately recovering. Those who did well would get coverted independent commands. The others… there were always more Mirandas performing the necessary work behind the frontier.
  She glanced up, briefly – a hint of mindtouch. Tiriana, commander in rank, but captain in duty, was also waiting to move up. Smiling, Antonine gave a salute that was snappily returned. Tiriana would be getting a Nebula on deep duty assisting the Cardassians against the True Way for now.
  “Congratulations Commander,” Antonine said, “Remember your diplomacy and always try and think a move ahead… and I doubt we’ll need to exchange salutes again.”
  “Thank you Admiral. From what I hear, though… I’ll be a lot closer to Headquarters for dispatches. You may be saluting me when you come back,” the Betazoid said, eyes sparkling.
  “A good teacher always admires a student who learns well,” Antonine said, vaguely feeling like she was quoted. “Though if you’re that eager for a desk command there’s easier methods than the Command Course.” Antonine slapped her combadge.
  “Wait, wha-“ Tiriana started to ask as Antonine vanished into the transporter beam. Tiriana was good, but she’d have a lot still to learn, Antonine thought as she reconstituted, if she thought that would have gotten her the last word so easily.
  
  
  Author’s note:
  
  Set after a story I’m still writing for what my favorite Fed engineer was doing during Surface Tension. She’s recovered a bit since then. She’s my main Starfleeter, so I like bringing her out sometimes for that perspective, even if An’riel, Romulan Action Hero, is sometimes easier to write.
  

  Fate - protects fools, small children, and ships named Enterprise Will Riker
  
  Member Access Denied Armada!
  
  My forum single-issue of rage: Make the Proton Experimental Weapon go for subsystem targetting!

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• cmdrscarlet Member Posts: 5,137 Arc User

  July 2015 edited July 2015

  Saying Goodbye
  
  Work Bees flittered about the cruiser. Some were boosting away, with their manipulator arms carrying various bits of the ship. Others were slowly arriving to conduct assigned work on the hull. All of them had one goal: to dissemble the USS Galatea.
  
  Kathryn looked out the viewport of the shuttle as another Bee flew past the window and met with two other Worker Bees shuttles. Her gloomy mood made sadder as she watched their laser cutters activate in succession and cut into the hull plating near the impulse engine assembly. She touched the rank pips on her collar absentmindedly and then pulled at the dress uniform jacket. Kathryn was filled with emotion, from concern for her crew to sadness at having to say goodbye to her first true command post.
  
  Her shuttle had exited the main shuttle bay at a lazy 1.5 knots a few minutes ago. The pilot was gracious toward Kathryn’s wish to survey her ship for the last time. It was not uncommon for Captain’s to make such a request and was certainly not against Regulations. At the same time, Galatea’s slow destruction was also not the safest place for a transport shuttle. Work Bees and Pods tried to keep the space around the ship free from debris, yet flotsam and jetsam were inevitable.
  
  After the battle, the ship literally hobbled back toward Federation space. Thel and the Engineering team toiled to keep the warp core together. It almost seemed like faith and prayer kept the ship from falling apart on the journey. The entire team would be officially commended for their actions. Kathryn would see to that. Omazei and the science crew would receive their fair share of accolades for navigating through contested territory safely. Anthi and the security teams worked to keep morale up along the two week trip. No one rested. Kathryn could not recall reading about any other crew to work so hard to save a ship like hers. She hoped against hope it would be repaired, yet the damage was too extensive. SFCE decided it was better to scrap the ship and use whatever was salvageable, than to resurrect it.
  
  The shuttle had finished arcing around the bridge and was on a path toward the bottom half of the primary hull. From the looks of it, Galateareceived damage evenly everywhere. The ship was surrounded and no matter where she moved, disruptor beams found a target. Every defense pattern was used in the book to get away. The planet’s ring served them well to deflect more attacks. After more cat-and-mouse with the four Vor'cha battlecruisers, the helmsman pointed the Federation cruiser perpendicular to the rings and punched full impulse speed to egress the game. Two seconds later they hit warp speed to exit the system. Why the Klingons decided not to follow the debris trail for the kill surprised Kathryn at the time.
  
  Kathryn watched as the deflector dish’s vibrant blue emission faded to grey. Lights within the ship darkened. The shuttle was heading away from the docking cage and she saw the Warp Core slowly pulled from the hull. Her eyes filled with enough water to blur vision, but not enough to slide down her cheeks. She sniffed a little which caught the pilot’s attention. They looked at each other for a few seconds. The pilot gave a sympathetic smile, and then turned to face forward. Kathryn internally thanked him for not adding to the somber moment.
  
  There was just enough window space left to see the port nacelle detach from the pylon before the shuttle’s path was focused toward Space Dock. She put a finger to one eye to catch the tear. Flicking the water away, she looked up as if to pour more tears back into her head and sighed heavily. Looking down, she opened her left hand to look at the only memento of Galatea: a piece of carpet from the hallway to the main shuttlebay.
  

  Post edited by cmdrscarlet on July 2015

  Kathryn S. Beringer - Endless Excelsior - Veritatum Liquido Cernerne - a proud off-meta build
  
  

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• cmdrscarlet Member Posts: 5,137 Arc User

  July 2015 edited July 2015

  Saying Hello
  
  The multicolored lights were bright while cacophonous music roared throughout the room. Several patrons from varying races were dancing on the floor in the center of the room. Those not dancing were either sitting at tables enjoying the view or drinking. Club 47 was where officers came to let off war-weary, stress-filled steam or to relax.
  
  In an adjacent observation lounge, passive lighting created calming moods and thick doors subdued the high energy emanating from the dance floor as a stark juxtaposition. Only a few tables were occupied and Kathryn sat overlooking the cavernous interior of Earth Space Dock. The synthetic Kanar in her hand was a close substitute to the real thing. Taking a sip, she swirled the liquid around her tongue before swallowing it.
  
  With a PADD in hand, she smiled at the words on the slate and could almost recite them from the screen. All of Kathryn’s senior staff and over 70% of the crew from Galatea would follow her to the next assignment floating inside Space Dock. That was atypical, yet somehow Kathryn had overcome the odds. She would have to thank Admiral Felczer for considering and fulfilling her request to transfer most, if not all, of Galatea’s crew. They were family and she wanted them to stay together as much as possible.
  
  Looking up through the large wall-sized window, she could see several ships in various stages of docking or repair. The gigantic doors of the station were slowly closing as an Armitage-class ship cleared the threshold. Her eyes settled on one ship in particular. It was an older design, first introduced in the 22nd century and had sharp corners compared to the current design-style. The ship’s saucer-shaped primary hull was a hall-mark of the Federation and sported the longest nacelles of any starship (relative to the rest of the ship). Primarily used for diplomatic purposes within the past century, its numbers have dwindled due to attrition. But the one capturing Kathryn’s attention was the last of its class constructed in the 24th century.
  
  “She’s beautiful, wouldn’t you agree?”
  
  Startled from her reverie, Kathryn turned to the voice and looked up to a human male. He held a half-full glass of clear liquid as he stared out the window.
  
  “Pardon me?”
  
  The man wore Captain’s bars on his collar with red piping on the jacket. Casually pointing, he explained, “the Excelsior out there. It’s the only one of its kind birthed here and certainly special.”
  
  Kathryn looked out the window and nodded. Regarding the Captain, he stroked a well-manicured moustache to the tip of his goatee, and was clearly focused on the ship. “Um, yes, I suppose so.” She waved to a chair and invited, “care to join me, Captain –“
  
  “Ricol. Hassid Ricol.” He looked down and smiled. “You must be Kathryn Beringer.”
  
  Surprised he knew her by name; Kathryn noticed he had not taken a seat. “I didn’t know I was famous.”
  
  “You’re not, except to me.” Hassid’s smile disappeared. “Tell me, Captain, do you really think you’ve earned the right to Solaris?
  
  Kathryn sat back into her chair, stunned. “Excuse me?”
  
  Hassid rested his glass down on the table with more force than expected. “How long have you been wearing those rank bars anyway? Months, maybe a year or two?” Placing both hands on the table, he leaned in closer and hissed, “I was promised Solaris. I’ve earned the honor to be her Captain.”
  
  Kathryn willfully paused for a few seconds as she absorbed the moment. Feeling pushed into a corner, she decided to push back. Standing, she grabbed the PADD off the table and became resolute against Hassid’s threatening posture. Placing a hand on a hip and shifting her weight to one leg, Kathryn smirked and raised the PADD. “Not according to this,” she parried.
  
  The Captain straightened and rolled his tongue in his jaw as if to keep from saying something or to calm himself down.
  
  Suddenly, another officer arrived and almost stood between Kathryn and Hassid. “Excuse the interruption, but I could tell the conversation was about to get exciting. Let’s have a seat to relax.”
  
  The other Captains glared at the officer. Also wearing Captain pips on the collar, his jacket was filled by muscles on his chest and arms. A square jaw framed sharp facial features under a bald head. His toothy smile was soft, sultry and inviting.
  
  Hassid scoffed, “Captain Daikar. Saving a damsel in distress again?”
  
  Kathryn could feel her restraint waning. “Now look here-“.
  
  “Captains, Daikar interrupted. He looked over his shoulders as if to remind the others they were not alone in the room and to lower voices. With a more calm tone, he asked, “should we keep this civil or take it outside?”
  
  Kathryn ignored Daikar’s attempt to resolve the situation. “I shouldn’t have to remind you, Captain Ricol, that no one owns any ship. I earned my rank and that’s all. If you have a problem with my posting on Solaris, then the answer is simple: too bad.”
  
  Eyes flashed with anger, Hassid lunged toward Kathryn. Daikar stepped up and used Hassid’s momentum to spin him away and toward another table. As he crashed into the furniture, the commotion captured attention from the other patrons in the room. Kathryn watched one officer tap his badge.
  
  Pushing away a chair as he stood, Hassid wiped his short-cut hair. Breathing heavy, he pointed to Daikar. “You’ll pay for that.”
  
  Daikar chuckled. “Bill me.”
  
  Hassid huffed away from the pair and through the doors.
  
  Turning to Kathryn, Daikar extended a hand. “I’m sorry you had to experience that.”
  
  “It’s no bother, I’ve been through worse. Listen, you shouldn’t have done that, Security is sure to be on their way. What was his problem anyway?”
  
  Daikar waved to dismiss the comments and smiled. “I can handle them. Ricol is a brute and a bully. He's has had it coming to him. For what it’s worth, he’s in it for the glory, not the duty.”
  
  Kathryn nodded. “It seems you two have some history?”
  
  “Yes. Would you want to hear about it?” He pulled a seat and began to sit.
  
  Blushing a little, Kathryn acknowledged an urging to sit down. Pride caused Kathryn to resist the invitation; she could have handled Hassid Ricol herself. She looked around the room for an excuse to justify not staying any longer. Finding a holographic chronometer on the wall, she sighed with a little relief. Still, Daikar was surprisingly attractive and she questioned whether it was due to his gallantry or good looks.
  
  “I … can’t, maybe another time.” Kathryn turned on her heels and started walking out the door.
  
  “Wait! I didn’t get your name?”
  
  Kathryn stopped and looked back. Again, she caught herself wanting to sit next to Daikar. “Kathryn Beringer. If you will excuse me Captain, I have a new ship to inspect.”
  

  Post edited by cmdrscarlet on July 2015

  Kathryn S. Beringer - Endless Excelsior - Veritatum Liquido Cernerne - a proud off-meta build
  
  

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• grylak Member Posts: 1,594 Arc User

  August 2015

  Previously, on Star Trek: Viper
  
  
  The U.S.S. Viper responded to a freighter under attack by Naausican and Son'a warships. The D'Deridex class I.R.W. Tomalak decloaked and initially rendered assistance, but eventually turned on the Viper. Commander D'Elon was protecting the cargo on the freighter and intended to keep it a secret. It became obvious the freighter was upgraded with military grade tech, as it locked the Viper in a tractor beam, allowing the Tomalak to fire it's singularity projector. The singularity struck the Viper at the same moment a subspace tear from the Son'a vessel struck the small ship, tearing a hole in space and catapulting the Federation vessel into Galaxy M-33. The Tomalak was able to destroy the Son'a and took delivery of the cargo, a Borg Vinculum. D'Elon used it and data gathered from the captured head of Lore to take posession of Hugh's colony and use them as her personal strike force. However, in battle with the Elachi, the crew was forced to abandon the warbird and D'Elon herself was badly injured. The Borg began assimilating her and the ship to carry out their standing orders: Protect Commander D'Elon. Months later, KDF commander K'hotiim found the warbird in the remains of the Romulus system. They boarded the ship and destroyed it and the drone formerly known as D'Elon.
  
  
  Meanwhile, the Viper spent the next year trying to fly home. Though they made some friends, they made many more enemies. Assault after assault took their toll on the ship and the crew, from Cybertronians to bounty hunters. Finally, they had hope. One of their friends guided them to the Prentary homeworld, a highly advanced species that may have the means to get them home. But the celebration was short lived. A glancing blow from a Planet Killer Doomsday Machine killed almost the entire crew and crippled the ship. The survivors could only watch as it destroyed the Prentary homeworld. Struggling to survive after this, Ensign Jenna Jones took her own life, unable to find the strength to carry on. This broke what little remained of Talaina's spirit, and she purposfully flew towards an Autobot distress call. Aiding the Autobots from a Decepticon attack, the robotic lifeforms used their technology to finally get the Viper home in thanks.
  
  
  Over the course of the next few weeks, the survivors were given an extended leave of absence. While the Viper herself was being disected to analyse the various modifications and alien technology they had been forced to incorperate, Talaina was ordered to councilling sessions before she was fit for active duty. She took this time to visit the family of every crew member; her first officer and friend Ttorkkinn staying by her side the entire time.
  
  
  
  
  3 months later
  
  
  
  
  "Are you ready for this?"
  
  Talaina looked at the Saurian, the white patches around his eyes a stark contrast to his black skin. They say the first officer should never become a true friend of the Captain, in order to maintain that objectivity needed for the role. But without Ttorkkinn, Talaina knew she would never have survived the last few months. "I'm ready. And... thank you."
  
  "For what?"
  "For being there. I know I always say it, but.... you've become the best friend I've ever had."
  "Now don't go getting all mushy before you step out there."
  
  Talaina studied his dark eyes. For a reptillian race, they were unusually warm. She touched the scratched and battered pips on the collar of her dress uniform, making sure this was real. "First day back. Let's do this." Ttorkkinn gave her a quick hug and stepped back. Talaina walked out onto the stage and quickly took it in. It wasn't a large auditorium, only about one hundred cadets. They quickly became quiet when they noticed her walking out. They were so young. So green. Completely unaware of what was out there. What was waiting. Talaina stood behind the podium and cleared her throat.
  
  "Greetings class of 2411. I am Captain Talaina Kazzur, and I have been asked by the Academy to give a lecture on survival out there. I'm sure many of you joined Starfleet to explore space. To see what's around the next nebula. Well I'm glad to hear that. Starfleet is an organisation with a mission of exploration. Not war. But battle... is inevitable." She paused, thinking of the battles of the last year. She took a quick breath before continuing. "Starfleet has a duty to protect those who are unable to protect themselves. To put our foot down and stop the bullies of the galaxy when they start trouble. The cadets I see before me have demonstrated both a desire and ability to see that through. That is why I am here to talk to you about survival skills. As officers rising through the Tactical command structure, it will be your responsibility to protect the crew. To offer suggestions and ideas on how to get out of whatever mess the Captain has flown you into. This is a serious and demanding task. Let me show you some past examples."
  
  
  She pressed a button on a PADD and a holographic display of a Galaxy class ship appeared. It was in orbit of a Class M world and a small Klingon Bird Of Prey was in front of it.
  
  "I'm sure you are all familiar with this scenario. The Battle of Viridian III."
  
  She started playing the hologram. The Federation ship fired a single phaser shot at the Klingons as it turned around, taking fire that passed through it's shields.
  
  "Who can tell me what's wrong with this?" She saw a couple of hands shoot straight up. "Yes. You." Not knowing their names, she just pointed at a Bajoran male. The cadet, short fiery red hair atop a square head, stood up.
  
  "They just fired one shot and stopped."
  "Wrong. Who else? Yes."
  
  A Bolian stood up. "They turned the ship around instead of making evasive manouvers."
  "Wrong. You."
  A Benzite stood up and took a deep breath from his breathing apparatus before answering. "They didn't remodulate shield frequencies after the first penetration."
  "Correct. That procedure has become standard procedure now following any shield penetration, but at the time, it simply wasn't a tactic that was needed. No one was to be able to guess the shield frequency. The only time it was ever needed was when fighting the Borg, and at that point, there had only been one Borg attack; by a single vessel. A simple tactic that would have saved us an extra letter in the Enterprise lineage. Saying that, they did find a weakness in the Klingon vessel that they could exploit and thus stop the attack."
  
  Talaina shut the hologram down, realising she had drifted off her script. Where was she going with this? The loss of the Enterprise D was well known. There had been an actual point she wanted to make, but she couldn't find it now. Her mind just kept thinking back to the Viper. The crowd was starting to mutter, sensing something wasn't right. She set her jaw firmly, trying to come to a decision. Off to the side, Ttorkkinn was looking concerned. He could tell something was not right. Talaina stepped around the podium and sat down on the edge of the stage, her feet dangling about two foot above the floor. She watched them dangle before lifting her head up.
  
  "Ultimately, what survival comes down down to is trust. Trust that your crew has your back, just as they trust you have theirs. Look at everyone around you. Every person you see has to be like family. Because that's what a starship crew is. Out there in the vastness of space, you only have each other. Don't be afraid to think outside the box and offer suggestions, no matter how stupid you may think it sounds. Believe me, the Captain would rather hear your daft ideas than none at all. As Tactical officers, it will fall ultimately on your shoulders to protect the family. So study. Learn what devices can be merged with what devices to create crazy and... and insane things. Because that's your survival skills. Not how many people you can shoot with a phaser, or how quickly you can knock someone out. That doesn't mean you survive."
  
  She paused again, the memory of Jenna in the airlock, clutching that damned stuffed teddy bear. A lump caught in the Andorian's throat, and she quickly coughed.
  
  "Survival skills are also about your mental and emotional wellbeing. If you're finding it a struggle, don't hide it. Tell someone. Talk to someone. Otherwise, you may find yourself doing something you may never thought you would." It was clear by the way her eyes didn't focus on anyone, by the softness her voice took that she was referring to someone. The cadets started shifting in their seats awkwardly. "Keep an eye out for signs that members of your crew are struggling. Raise the flag with them. Or a superior. Because when someone no longer has the ability to survive... it can tear a family apart."
  
  
  Talaina stopped again and started looking around. "I'm sorry. Something's come up. I'll see Alpha Shift on the DarkFyre ready for the practical lessons in the morning." Talaina pushed herself off the stage and quickly left the room. In the seats, Cadet Shuta frowned. The young Japanese man leaned over to his friend in the next seat.
  
  "What was that about?" Seeing her shrug, Shuta straightened up. "Well I hope she's pulled herself together for tomorrow. Because that was some whacked out stuff."

  *******************************************
  
  A Romulan Strike Team, Missing Farmers and an ancient base on a Klingon Border world. But what connects them? Find out in my First Foundary mission: 'The Jeroan Farmer Escapade'

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• grylak Member Posts: 1,594 Arc User

  August 2015

  Ship's Log. The U.S.S. DarkFyre is on a training mission out towards Pluto, teaching the cadets how a starship really works. So far, they haven't broken anything or crashed the ship into any of Pluto's orbital platforms.
  
  
  
  Talaina sat in one of the science seats on the Bridge, watching the cadets run the ship. Her little ginger cat, Simba, sat purring in her lap as she gently stroked it, with a PADD on the console beside her. The Constitution Refit class ship was only operating with a crew of forty seven cadets with Talaina and Ttorkkinn overseeing. The Academy had granted the Saurion's request to help out the class; since they had no ship of their own yet, it had been alot easier than they thought it would have been to get him onboard. Cadet Shuta sat in the Captain's chair. Talaina gently rubbed behind Simba's ear. "Ok Mister Shuta, we want to perform a scan of Pluto's polar regions, so we can determine a suitable location for the geothermal platforms."
  
  "Yes Sir. Cadet Grownlga. Take us into a geostationary orbit around the northern pole. Cadet Stryka. Perform a full topographical sensor scan. I want every part of that region scanned."
  
  As the two cadets confirmed their orders, Talaina smiled slightly. "A topological sensor scan may take hours. Days even, at the range you just ordered. You could be wasting alot of time."
  
  Shuta turned to look at Talaina. "What do you suggest, Sir?"
  "Your mission is to scout out locations for new geothermal drilling platforms for terraforming purposes. What do they need?"
  "Sir?"
  "Geothermal platforms. What do they need?"
  "Err... large flat land?"
  "Yes, but more importantly than that."
  
  Shuta frowned as he thought hard. "Oh, geothermal energy."
  "Correct. Which means the first thing you do is..."
  
  "Scan for pockets of underground heat sources. Then we run a topological scan of only those areas."
  "Correct."
  "Cadet Stryka, start scanning for areas of thermal signatures below ground."
  
  
  As the scan started, the ship suddenly went to Red Alert. The cadets started looking around in panic. Cadet Stryka raised her hands above her head. "I didn't do it!"
  
  Talaina got to her feet and moved towards the Captain's chair, holding Simba securly so he wouldn't run off. "All stations rep-" She was cut off by the comm. It was Ttorkkinn, who had stationed himself in Engineering.
  
  "Bridge! Antimatter containment is failing on the warp core. We're about two minutes from a core breach!"
  "Can you do anything to stop it?"
  "I can try to buy us some time, but the seals are degrading. Once they go, that's it."
  Talaina nodded, deciding on her course of action. "All cadets, evacuate the ship. Use the escape pods and head towards the orbital platforms."
  
  Shuta was aghast. "What? Captain, no. We still have time-"
  "Shut it Cadet. We don't have time. Get your crew to the escape pods. As Captain, their safety is your responsibility. You have to do whatever it takes to ensure they survive." There was an edge to her voice that made Shuta go silent. "Even if it means your own sacrifice. Take the pods and get out. I'll steer the ship clear of the platforms and join you later." The cadets just stared dumbfounded at each other. "MOVE!"
  
  
  As everyone got to their feet and started making for the Turbolift, Talaina took the seat at Helm and put Simba down beside her. The cat looked around, nervous by all the noise and pushed himself up against Talaina's leg. "Ttorkkinn, how long can you give me?"
  "Seals will rupture in Fifty seconds. The cadets down here have evacuated."
  "I'm taking us away from the orbital platforms so they won't get caught in the blast."
  
  
  
  
  
  In his escape pod, Cadet Shuta looked out of the viewport. The DarkFyre swung herself around, impulse engines flaring. She sped away from the orbital platforms and into space. "Come on Captain. You've got clear. Now escape. I know what you said, but don't sacrifice yourself when you don't need to." Shuta looked around. There were forty six escape pods floating with him and rescue ships were already approaching them, so he knew his classmates were safe. He looked back to the old Connie. He'd heard the rumours about what Kazzur and Ttorkkinn had been through over the past year. Was this some kind of suicide run, to go out in a blaze of glory? Surely anyone with that kind of mentality would not be allowed anywhere near a starship. Still, rumours of giant metal men, gladiator combat, hunting parties still whispered around the campus. Who knew how things like that would affect a person. "Come on Captain. Eject." He focused on the ship so intently, searching for a blast of compression that followed an escape pod launch, tensing as he knew they had to be mere seconds away from a core breach, that he utterly failed to notice the nacelles glowing. It was only when the customary flash of a warp drive engaging did he realise. But by then it was too late. The ship had jumped to warp. "What.... the hell?"
  
  
  
  
  On the Bridge, Talaina checked the PADD and set it back on the console, making minute course corrections. "Well done Ttorkkinn. We've done it."
  "Yeah? Don't forget, that was the easy part. Now we actually have to pull this off before anyone catches us."
  "By the time word gets back to HQ, we'll be long gone. How's the core?"
  "As stable as the day it was installed. I'm ready to push it to the maximum."
  
  Talaina looked at the viewscreen. The Sol star was growing ever larger. She checked the sensors with the PADD and made some more minor corrections. "I hope you're calculations are right T'Fon. Or this is going to be very messy." The ship shot past Earth, continuing towards the Sun. Talaina started reading out speed updates. Warp 8. Warp 8.7. Warp 9. The ship started to shake, reaching speeds her frame was never designed for. "Ttorkk, divert all uneccessary power to the Structural Integrity Field. Everything else, dump into the engines."
  "I've given her all she's got. I can maybe get a little more, but this really needs an Engineer."
  "We don't have one. I know you can figure something out."
  
  The ship reached warp 9.5. "Hold together old girl. I know we can do this." They flew past Mercury, the star bathing the Bridge in a yellow glow. Angling the ship into it's final course, she forced the engines fully open. "Come on, come on!" A blast of steam from above indicated something had ruptured from the stress, but Talaina kept pushing on. The ship came dangerously close to the star's corona, filling the entire viewscreen. It angled close around the equator of the star, picking up even more speed than should be possible from the engines. "Ttorkk, prepare for Time Warp!"
  
  
  
  
  
  Heh. That tickled. What was it? Talaina slowly opened her eyes. She must have blacked out and slumped over the console. Simba was licking the inside of her hand. She smiled and stroked his head, picking herself up. The ship seemed in one piece. First thing was to check they'd stopped. Sensors showed they had stopped in orbit of Neptune, so they should be out of any passive sensor sweeps. But they still had to move quickly before any patrols came along. "Ttorkkinn? Are you ok?"
  
  There was some slight grumbling from the comm. "Yeah, I'm alive. Ship's held together as well. Did it work?"
  "Give me a second to check." Talaina accessed the starbase time beacon. "Yes and no. We've gone back in time, but a little further than we planned. We've got a month to wait."
  "Then I suggest we warp out of here and find somewhere to hold up for a month. We don't want to start changing things before the encounter and we can properly plan our next move."
  "Agreed." Talaina's fingers danced over the console and the ship pulled away from the planet. With a powerful flash of light, they were gone.
  
  
  
  
  
  Twenty Seven days later.......
  
  
  The Viper shook from the disruptor fire. Jenna banked the ship hard to port, giving the phaser cannons a perfect shot to obliterate the Nausicaan pirate ship. Grimworm shouted in triumph. "Got him!"
  
  T'Fon shook his head. "Captain, may I remind you that Starfleet regulations clearly state criminals should be arrested and brought to trial. Not summinarily executed."
  
  From her chair in the centre of the Bridge, Talaina tilted her head towards T'Fon, without taking her eyes off the viewscreen as three other pirate ships flew past, firing their disruptors. "And may I remind you Lieutenant, that we are trying to protect that Tuffli out there. We don't have the opportunity to take prisoners, not without giving them the time to take hostages or just outright destroy that freighter. We warned them off, they attacked. We have plenty of justification."
  
  
  The ship shook again from weapons fire, but the shields were holding. T'Fon frowned, but remained silent until his console beeped. "Captain, detecting a ship decloaking off the starboard bow. Sensors indicate it is a Romulan warbird. D'deridex class. They are hailing." Talaina shook her head. "Perfect. On screen." The face of Commander D'Elon appeared on the viewscreen. She was as all business as usual. "Starfleet vessel. This is an internal Romulan matter. We thank you for the assistence, but we can handle it from here."
  
  Talaina shifted in her chair as she replied. "Commander, we are responding to a distress call from a civillian freighter. We will depart when the area is secure."
  "Then you should be aware we detected a pair of Son'a ships on an intercept course. We have reason to believe they will be aiding the Nausicaans. We will both deal with them."
  
  She promptly cut communication as the I.R.W. Tomalak moved across the starscape, plasma beams lancing out. They locked a raider in a tractor beam, holding it while Viper fired her phaser cannons. The final raider opened a comm. "Hold your fire. We surrender."
  
  Talaina smiled. "Wise move. Shut down your power systems and prepare to be boarded." The Nausicaan complied without question. As Viper was moving into transporter range, plasma beams struck the pirate ship, tearing it apart. Viper shook slightly as Talaina quickly spun to Ttorkkinn. "Get me that Romulan onscreen NOW!" It was only a moment before Talaina was looking at that smug expression once more. She hated Romulans in the military. They were always so arrogant. "Commander! Why did you destroy that vessel? They had surrendered."
  "Because they made hostile moves against a person connected to the Star Empire. We do not take simple mercenaries prisoner. We dispatch them. The Son'a ships are coming in. Prepare for battle." She cut off the comm as the Tomalak turned, opening fire with a torpedo salvo at the two ships before they even finished dropping out of warp. The Son'a ships rocked under the assault. Talaina knew there was something more going on here. "Hold fire. Don't shoot unless fired upon. Jenna. Keep us away from those ships. What's the Tuffli doing?"
  "They are attempting to move away from the area."
  "T'Fon, scan that vessel. I want to know why everyone is after it."
  "Scanning now Captain."
  The ship slammed hard to port from impact. Ttorkkinn held onto the console until Jenna had righted the vessel. "Captain, the Romulans AND the Son'a have opened fire on us. Everyone's attacking everyone!"
  
  "That does it. Helm, get us out of here." Jenna brought the ship about, but before they could jump to warp, the Tuffli grabbed them in a tractor beam. Xui Li worked her console furiously. "Captain. I am, ah, unable to break the tractor lock. It appears to be, ah, military grade. Hull polarisation is, ah, having no affect." D'Elon appeared on screen again. "Starfleet vessel. You were warned not to interfere. It pains me to report to Starfleet Command an unfortunate accident cost them a fine vessel." Talaina jumped to her feet. "You underestimate this ship Commander." D'Elon just smiled, yet strangely, there was no malice or contempt in her voice. She was very calm. "I don't think any vessel can withstand being the epicentre of a singularity. Goodbye." The channel closed as Ttorkkinn reported. "The Tomalak is coming in from Port! And a Son'a vessel is approaching from.... dammit! The Son'a fired a subspace torpedo! And... somehow, the Tomalak has fired a.... sensors indicate they fired a black hole at us!"
  "Can we get free!" Jenna hit the console with her palm. "Sorry Captain. That tractor beam is too powerful." Talaina stood up but was interrupted by the beeping of the sensor console. T'Fon raised an eye brow. "Sensors are picking up a Starfleet vessel coming in at high warp."
  
  Everyone on the Bridge watched as a Constitution refit class vessel dropped from warp and fired a beam from it's deflector dish. It struck the incoming singularity, causing it to dissapate harmlessly. Explosions ripped through the Constitution's dish, obviously a side effect of whatever they had done to stop the singularity. Talaina hoped the Romulans wouldn't fire another. But the saviours were not yet done. The subspace rift was mere seconds from impact, but the Consititution took up position between them and extended their shields around Viper. The rift struck the larger ship. Talaina could only watch as the side of the vessel began to break apart. Shields fluctuated wildly as they absorbed the impact. Finally things returned to normal. But the ship was badly damaged. "Identify that ship."
  
  The confusion in T'Fon's voice was clear. "It appears to be the DarkFyre. With three lifesigns on board. One feline. One Saurion. And one Andorian. Captain... these life signs are of you and Commander Ttorkkinn." Talaina's gaze met Ttorkkinn's. What madness was this? A mystery that would have to be solved later. Right now, they were still stuck in the tractor beam. Maybe a jamming beam would free- "Captain!" Talaina followed Jenna's shout to stare at the viewscreen. The DarkFyre had fired her torpedos at the Son'a ships, causing them to break off the attack and warp out of the system. The DarkFyre flew towards the Tuffli, firing weapons at the tractor beam emitter. The Tomalak came about, blasting her from the rear.
  
  "Grimworm, target the Romulans and fire!" Although Viper was unable to move, it was a perfect firing arc to break the Romulans off their attack run. DarkFyre's weapons hit the freighter, but the shields were too strong. Ttorkkinn's voice went up in surprise.
  
  "They're ramming them!"
  
  Sure enough, the leading edge of the saucer slammed into the Tuffli. Shields impacted shields, causing a feedback loop that cancelled them both out. The Constitution tore into the tuffli, explosions ripping through the cargo containers. The tractor beam released the Viper, allowing Jenna to instantly move them out of range. The two collided ships started breaking apart, debris fields merging together. The two floating hulks went dark. Talaina demanded a situation report from T'Fon.
  
  "The Tomalak has cloaked. Sensors are registering twelve Benzite lifesigns on the Tuffli, the three life signs on the DarkFyre are stable and I am also picking up Borg energy signatures on the freighter."
  "Borg? Why didn't we detect them before?"
  "Some form of dampening field masked it. The impact appears to have damaged whatever was generating it."
  "Ok. Jenna, get us in transporter range. Bridge to Sickbay. Bob, get a medical team over to the DarkFyre. TRT to Transporter Room 2. We're boarding that freighter and getting answers."
  
  
  
  The Tactical Response Team materialised in the hallway of the freighter near the Bridge. Talaina, Ttorkkinn, Grimworm and Karry, all in the Omega armour, scanned the area visually, weapons drawn. Grimworm reported there was no visible presence but lifesigns were just beyond the door. Talaina motioned with her head. She didn't need to say a word. They were so well trained, that movement was all that was needed to give them the plan. The door blasted open and a spray of minigun fire lay down cover, giving Talaina and Ttorkkinn time to sweep in, splitting off in opposite directions to take cover behind consoles, firing at the crew to keep them distracted. Karry triggered her motion accelerator and stayed near Grimworm, giving him cover with her sword in case anyone got close range. The team were expecting Benzites, but Romulan soldiers in the older style Imperial uniforms, the ones that had massive shoulder pads and looked like they were made from a quilt, were the ones who returned fire. Talaina ducked behind a console and fired back. Phaser and disruptors flashed back and forth across the Bridge, but the TRT easily outflanked them and won. Talaina approached one of the consoles. "Hmm. Looks like they're transporting something classified. Whatever it is, I don't think we can let the Romulans have it."
  
  T'Fon broke in over the comm. "Captain, the Tomalak has transported teams onto the freighter. Logic would suggest they are strike teams."
  "Understood. Where are they?"
  "Main Engineering. Captain, it appears the lifesigns from the DarkFyre are also there."
  
  Talaina turned to her team. "Ok. Time we get some answers. Move out."
  
  
  The damage to the Tuffli was extensive, but they made it to Main Engineering without too much trouble. The TRT crouched by the door and observed. A group of ten Romulans were at various places around the room, some working on equipment, some guarding the prisoners, but most looking over a large crate. Talaina did a double take. Sure enough, there were the prisoners. Talaina and Ttorkkinn, injured and bound. And a ginger cat seemed to be with Talaina. Ttorkkin crouched beside Talaina, also perplexed. "What do you think Captain? Clones? Quantum duplicates? Time travellers? Alternate dimension?" Talaina just shrugged.
  
  "We'll ask them when we get them free. But we need to be careful with this. Loose weapons fire in here could hit the warp core. Karry, your skills are going to be essential. Do what you do. The rest of us will use smoke grenades and precision firing to give you cover."
  
  Karry withdrew her sword and triggered her motion accelerator. Watching Talaina give a count down, she surged forward when the Captain gave the go sign. As smoke started filling the room, casting everyone into confusion, Karry blurred towards the nearest Romulan and ran her sword through his chest, carefully placing it to paralyse him without killing him. Her eye piece allowing her to see through the smoke, she quickly moved towards the next Romulan and incapacitated him. Running forwards, she flipped over a console and cartwheeled at another, her foot smashing him to the ground where a quick stomp put him out. It didn't take long to clear the room. As the smoke started to fade, Karry and Grimworm started gathering the Romulans together while Talaina and Ttorkkinn approached Talaina and Ttorkkinn. The prisoner Talaina looked up at her rescuers. "Well, this isn't quite how it was planned."
  
  Talaina holstered her weapon and set about freeing the prisoners. "Ok, before we go any further, to avoid confusion, I'm Talaina, you're Kazzur. He's Ttorkkinn" she indicated her Ttorkkinn, then pointed towards the prisoner. "And he's Ttorkk."
  "Fine." Kazzur replied.
  "Now. What in the Name of the Ice is going on here?"
  Kazzur picked up the cat and cradled him, letting out a long and weary sigh. "Basically, we've come from the future to avert what happened to us in this battle."
  "And what happened?"
  "Through a freak accident of various superweapons, the Viper spent a year lost in a distant galaxy. By the time we got back, only about six people survived."
  
  Talaina's antenna and eyebrows shot up in surprise at that. "What? That's terrible! I can't even imagine living through that."
  "Believe me, there are days I wish I hadn't. That's why we came back to now. We had to save you."
  "But what about the Temporal Prime Direc-"
  "TRIBBLE THE TEMPORAL PRIME DIRECTIVE! Whoever came up with that didn't have to watch their crew fight for survival in gladiator matches. To be massacred by hunting parties and left as rotting corpses for the birds. To see young officers break down and blast themselves into space. That is a future no one should live through."
  Talaina noticed now the haunted look in Kazzur's eyes. The same eyes she saw in the mirror just that morning, yet to be so different, had to have seen horrors beyond her worst nightmares. "Ok. Thank you. When we get back to a Starbase, I'm sure Temporal Investigations will want to talk to you."
  "Let them. We've achieved what we came here for."
  
  Talaina nodded and looked over at the Ttorkkinns. They seemed to be getting along. Ttorkk didn't seem anywhere near as mentally tortured as Kazzur. "Let's see what the Romulans want to protect so badly."
  
  Everyone moved over to the large crate and opened it. Ttorkk frowned. "Is that a Borg Vinculum?"
  "Certainly looks like one." Ttorkkinn replied.
  Talaina shook her head. "This needs to be destroyed. Whatever the Romulans wanted it for, it can't be good."
  Kazzur looked over to Talaina. "Overload the ship's warp core. Vapourise it completely."
  "Agreed. Beam the Romulans to the Viper. Ttorkkinn can set up the warp core overload. I want you two to go over there as well. Have Bob look you over."
  Kazzur nodded and clasped Talaina's hand. "We weren't meant to survive this trip. But I'm glad we did. I'd forgotten how I used to be."
  "I'm sure we'll have much to discuss. Ttorkkinn and I will beam over in a minute."
  
  
  
  

  *******************************************
  
  A Romulan Strike Team, Missing Farmers and an ancient base on a Klingon Border world. But what connects them? Find out in my First Foundary mission: 'The Jeroan Farmer Escapade'

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• grylak Member Posts: 1,594 Arc User

  August 2015 edited August 2015

  The sparkle of the transporter put Kazzur and Ttorkk on board the Viper, the pile of unconcious Romulans around them. As the medical team got to work, helped by Karry and Grimworm, Kazzur looked around, holding Simba. "It feels strange to see this ship so intact." As if tempting fate, the ship shook and the lights went out. Acting on instinct, Kazzur ran towards the Bridge.
  
  Upon arriving, she saw Talaina on the viewscreen. The crew was focused on their consoles "Sit rep." T'Fon instinctivly answered.
  "Our systems have been disabled by the Romulan warbird and they have surrounded us with small devices. Sensors are detecting Thalaron radiation in each device."
  Talaina picked up the report. "It looks like they're about to attack the Viper. Ttorkkinn and I are going to use the shields on this ship to funnel the radiation away from you." Kazzur knew that would have one result. She stumbled to the front of the Bridge, grabbing the back of Jenna's chair and squeezing tightly.
  "No. You can't. The only way that would work is to use your shields as a funnel, drawing the radiation blast to your vessel."
  "I know. But to save the crew, it's a sacrifice we're willing to make."
  "Then let me and Ttorkkinn do it. We're displaced in time, it's meant to be you on this ship."
  
  Talaina was working her console on the freighter as she answered. "No Kazzur. There's no time. Viper's power is offline, and the transporters over here are destroyed. And there's no time to set up a delay and evacuate. I'm extending the hields. Ttorkkinn, trigger the shaping now."
  "Talaina!"
  Talaina looked up at her crew. "I want you all to know, I... we... do this willingly. Whatever happens to you next, know you are my family. Look after each other. Protect each other. And know, that I take comfort that my death will ensure your survival."
  
  Ttorkkinn could be heard announcing the radiation blast was triggered. The viewscreen flashed green briefly before returning to normal. Talaina looked at Kazzur. "Talaina. You've crossed time to save them. Make sure they get home."
  
  Kazzur nodded before letting out a gasp. Talaina's blue skin was cracking, turning to cold grey stone. The transmission was cut as the view returned to one of the freighter. The Warbird fired at the freighter, sweeping past the inferno and cloaking, dissapearing back into the dark depths of infinity. Everyone on the Bridge looked around, uncertain. Kazzur cleared her throat. "Status of those devices?"
  "Inert Captain." T'Fon offered. "There is no indication of Thalaron radiation. I hypothesis they are a one use device. It would explain why the Romulans destroyed the freighter afterwards. With us still alive, they knew they would not be able to secure the cargo cleanly."
  
  Jenna looked up at Kazzur. "Well... I guess you're the Captain now? What are your orders?"
  Kazzur looked down at the fresh young faced Ensign. So full of joy and hope. Of potential yet to be untapped. Though the current time's version of Talaina and Ttorkkinn had died, the rest of the crew still lived. Every single one of them. The two senior officers had sacrificed everything, twice, to save them. Kazzur couldn't fight back the smile, or the tears. This was a very weird feeling. Relief that the crew was saved. Yet sadness that the past Talaina and Ttorkkinn had died. There was the question that if the past selves had died, should their future selves exist, but that was a mess she didn't dare get into. Mentally thanking the past Talaina and Ttorkkinn, Kazzur knew exactly what to do.
  
  "Set course for the nearest Starbase. There's alot of debriefing to do."
  
  
  
  
  
  On the bridge of the I.R.W. Tomalak, Commander D'Elon sat in her chair, watching the alien stars fly by. They would soon be back in Imperial space. Her first officer and friend, Satra, walked over. "It's a pity we couldn't secure the cargo."
  "Yes. But the situation was becoming too messy. Better to cut our losses and leave. The Suliban getting Lore's head for us will just have to figure out something else to do. They'll realise soon enough we are not making the meet."
  "Hmmm. A shame really. It would have been interesting to see how it played out."
  D'Elon permitted a wry smile. "Our own Borg assault squad? We would have been unstoppable. Still, at least the mission failed at this early stage, and not later on. But one does wonder where we would have been had it worked..."
  
  

  *******************************************
  
  A Romulan Strike Team, Missing Farmers and an ancient base on a Klingon Border world. But what connects them? Find out in my First Foundary mission: 'The Jeroan Farmer Escapade'

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• cmdrscarlet Member Posts: 5,137 Arc User

  August 2015

  Undeniable Evidence (LC 22)
  
  In the Briefing Room …
  
  The initial words on the data slate screen tore through Kathryn’s heart. She held her breath and dreaded reading through the whole document. Events as they were described were created in her mind’s eye and clashed with her sense of reality. Anthi Ythysi, Commander and First Officer of the Federation Starship Solaris, was being accused by the Deferi for theft of highly sensitive technology and four counts of murder. Damning evidence was added to the report as investigation showed DNA patterns with accompanying images, showing hair follicles and finger prints.
  
  Then Kathryn re-read the alleged time of the crime and all anxiety washed away. She forced herself to hide the relief as muscles relaxed. The rest of the document was scanned quickly, yet respectfully. Kathryn placed the data slate on the desk and slid it toward the constable standing on the other side of her desk. Shaking her head, she confidently stated, “This was not perpetrated by my First Officer.”
  
  Standing at attention, the Deferi’s affect changed from triumph to incredulity. “I beg your pardon Captain? Forgive my impertinence, but did you not see the evidence gathered?”
  
  With a wry smile, Kathryn stood and walked around the desk and stopped at the window. Outside floated an asteroid containing a supply depot manned by the Deferi. As an Excelsior-class ship, the Transwarp computer granted greater control of faster-than-light speeds than most of the other Federation vessels. Thus, Solaris was sent to retrieve materiels for the war effort. Kathryn didn’t mind duty behind the lines, as her minor efforts assisted the greater cause. And on this visit, the Deferi was accusing Anthi of having done more than manage a supply run.
  
  Kathryn turned on her heels to look at the constable. She was resolute with her disclosure. “You see, at the time of the crime, Anthi was with me. We were running battle simulations in our Holodeck. There are logs and witnesses, other than myself, to corroborate this fact and dispute the accusations.”
  
  The Deferi slightly bowed his head. “That may be so, but from our point of view, the facts in the report are incontrovertible. With respect to the Alliance, and to balance the loss to your crew, two hours are granted to make accommodations. We are confident the criminal will be turned over for processing.”
  
  +++
  
  In Kathryn’s Ready-Room …
  “Captain, this is just not possible,” Anthi was exasperated. Looking at the data slate, she shook her head as her Andorian antennae twitched.
  
  Kathryn was sympathetic. “I know. It’s unbelievable. Yet, Annika confirmed it’s your DNA.”
  
  “But you know the truth!”
  
  “And the Deferi knows another one.” Kathryn sighed. “I’m not saying they are right; they can’t be. Yet, time is against us before action happens. We’re on our own to solve this.”
  
  Anthi stood. “Solve what? I didn’t do this!”
  
  Kathryn raised a hand to calm her animated friend. “I know. There must be an explanation for how you could be in … two places … at … once.” Thoughts whirled in Kathryn’s head. Her words raised a probability not considered before.
  
  “Captain?”
  
  Looking to her friend, Kathryn smiled quickly and then headed toward the Bridge. Anthi curiously followed and saw Kathryn head toward Omazei’s science station. Sitting at the console was the Trill Science Chief.
  
  “Omazei, run a sensor scan of local space. Look for Tachyon emissions or traces of interphasic rifts.”
  
  Without questioning, Omazei’s fingers danced upon the console surface. Within seconds, the viewscreen altered from normal space to a tactical display. On the screen was the asteroid and Solaris’ position in orbit. The image expanded to show the entire system and a red dot appeared near the sun. “Sensors have detected a concentration of Tachyon particles at that location.”
  
  “How old is that phenomenon?”
  
  After reading more data, Omazei replied, “at least six hours.”
  
  Kathryn pursed her lips. “Okay. Try this: scan the outpost. Find Anthi.”
  
  Everyone on the bridge stopped working to look at Kathryn.
  
  She looked around. “I know it sounds crazy, but I think this station was visited by the Terran Empire.”
  
  Omazei recovered first and tapped on her console. “Captain, Anthi, er, the other Anthi, is on the station!”
  
  “Can you lock on her position and transport to the brig?”
  
  Anthi grinned, “that’ll be a pleasant surprise”.
  
  Nodding, Omazei added, “it can be done.”
  
  “Good.” Kathryn turned to Anthi. “Want to see yourself without using a mirror?”
  
  Anthi cracked the knuckles on her hand. “Yes.”
  
  +++
  
  Later, in the brig …
  
  Kathryn stepped closer to the shielding. The hairs on her neck raised and her nose was tickled by the energy field. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.” Behind her, Anthi stood next to the Deferi constable.
  
  On the other side of the shield, the Terran Andorian looked almost feral. Her hair was disheveled while fingernails were long and dirty. Dried blood stained her Starfleet uniform. She smiled and Kathryn could almost make out fanged cusped. “I’m past due reporting. My captain will be here any minute. You are all dead.”
  
  “Including you?”
  
  Anthi spat, “very likely.”
  
  Crossed her arms, Kathryn paced along the edge of the force field and was smug. “I’ve met your captain. She can be ruthless, so I wonder: if you have not reported back, then what’s to say she hasn’t abandoned you?”
  
  That comment surprised the Andorian. She turned around and sat on the bench without saying a word, then looked at a side wall and scratched at her thighs.
  
  Kathryn grunted. “No. If I were your captain, I wouldn’t do that to you. If the plan was to implicate my First Officer, then you were easy to find.” She pointed a finger to the captive. “That’s right, you have turned into a liability to your captain.” Looking to the walls of the brig before turning away, Kathryn spoke over her shoulder. “Enjoy your stay on Solaris. I doubt your return to the Abyssal will be as comfortable.”
  
  The Deferi constable stopped Kathryn. “Captain, lives were taken and property stolen. There would be a tilting of justice, if she were to stay here!”
  
  “Constable, if the Abyssal comes back for Anthi, then it would be very wise she stay on board my ship.” Kathryn looked back to the Terran prisoner. “It seems you have just become a bargaining tool. Well done, your mission was a grand success.”
  
  Turning to her First Officer, Kathryn ordered, “Anthi, go to Yellow Alert. We’ll wait for a day, and then remand her to Deferi Authorities. If Kathryn really wants her back, then we’ll cross that bridge. Otherwise, she will spend the … balance of her days in this Universe.” Glancing to the constable, she asked, “is that acceptable?”
  
  The constable smiled triumphantly and nodded.
  
  
  

  Kathryn S. Beringer - Endless Excelsior - Veritatum Liquido Cernerne - a proud off-meta build
  
  

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