ftp.ee.pdx.edu/2014.02.ftp.ee.pdx.edu.tar/ftp.ee.pdx.edu/pub/frp/stories/startrek/adv2/turn41

Text File | 1994-09-10 | 27KB | 655 lines

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                           Star Trek: Play by E-Mail
                              The Forbidden Years
                               Campaign Write-up
===============================================================================
                                 Adventure #2
                              A Matter of Policy
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
                                   Turn #41
                               The Battle Begins
===============================================================================
              Copyright 1994 Jim Vassilakos / All Rights Reserved
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  Cast & Crew
  ---------------------------------------------------------------------------
  ST-PBeM GameMaster       Jim Vassilakos      [e-mail]
  Lt. T'lar                Ronnie Simonds      [e-mail]
  Lt. Morchainte           Brian Chrisman      [e-mail]
  Lt. Cmdr. Duran          Tony Hayes          [e-mail]
  Lt. St. James            John Brengman       [e-mail]
  Lt. Cmdr. de la Sangre   Carlos Jensen       [e-mail]
  Lt. Cmdr. Hawkins        Tony Hayes          [e-mail]
  2nd Lt. Xelha            Dave Shue           [e-mail]
  Lt. Cmdr. tr'Remas       Dave Shue           [e-mail]
  Dr. Bannister            Jason Stripinis     [e-mail]
  Lt. K'tar                Steve Mays          [e-mail]


Stardate 6003.28 at 1800 Hours: USS Phobos, Captain's Quarters
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Vince paces back and forth in his quarters, watching the Klingon as he stands
at attention. "That's it?"

"The Tricani told me he was with SFIC. That he's watching Duran. And that Duran
is... for lack of a better term, sir... going on a rampage."

"I don't believe this. If Duran is disobeying orders, it's not so he can kill
Sarin. He's had ample opportunity to do that already."

K'tar grunts but says nothing.

"And yet if SFIC really wanted Sarin dead... one should think that it wouldn't
be much trouble for them. I want to talk to this Tricani myself. You took him
back to the brig, you say?"

"No," K'tar scowls as though the pudgy alien isn't worth the honor of a
forcefield. "I left him in the interrogation room."

"You what?"

"He's under guard," K'tar explains. "And I promised him I would rip off his
arm and beat him with the bloody stump if he tried anything... uncivilized."

Vince nods, "Good thinking."

The door suddenly slides open, Kris standing on the other side looking a bit
tired.

"Jesus, don't you people ever knock?!"

Kris weaves her way around K'tar, finally plopping down in the nearest chair.
"The security details are being attended to, however, there is something you
may want to be aware of."

"What?"

She looks toward K'tar, "Is he okay?"

"He's fine. Get on with it."

Kris sighs, "When I told you that my copy of the recorded conversations had
been destroyed, I was lying."

"Why am I not surprised?"

Kris continues, "I was in the midst of reviewing the recording with one of my
staff when the guards picked me up for questioning. I ordered the chip to be
destroyed after he was finished, but he did not do so, just as I suspected he
wouldn't. It's just as well. I issued the order more as an attempt to cover his
ass than anything else."

"Great, fine. I wonder why I don't simply hold all my conversations over the PA
in the first place, seeing as everybody gets a copy of it anyway. Go on."

Kris sighs again, "In short, sir, it was a good thing he didn't destroy the
chip. It seems that it contains evidence that SFIC is here with one mission...
to kill Sarin."

Vince grins, "So try telling me something I don't know, Lieutenant."

Kris looks around slightly confused. "I believe that this puts both Duran and
the alien captain under direct suspicion, and since Duran knows of our planned
moving of Sarin, I'd suggest that unless you have a backup plan that will force
SFIC to show its hand, we had better come up with an alternative to moving the
ambassador to sickbay."

"I am beginning to get confused." K'tar grits his teeth, the veins in his eyes
bulging forth in a rather menacing fashion. "Confusing a Klingon is... unwise."


Stardate 6003.28 at 1800 Hours: USS Phobos, Security Conference Room
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After Duran finishes explaining to Histlin exactly what he wants in terms of
the switch, he glances toward T'lar. "It may be a good idea for somebody to
prepare Sarin. Just so he knows what to expect."

T'lar nods, "On my way."

After she's gone, Duran makes a grim expression at the chameleon. "If there is
an attempt on Sarin, or rather you... you could be at risk."

"I assumed that," Histlin states.

"Here, take this," he hands her a communicator. "Keep it with you. I set it to
call me directly. If you get into a situation... don't hesitate to use it."

"I'd prefer a phaser," she smiles hopefully.

"Sorry," he grins. "I may be crazy, but I'm not insane."

"Where are you going?"

He turns around, "The Captain will be by shortly to make a final check on our
plans." Duran pauses, thoughtfully. "One more thing. The Tricani 'Admiral' that
was in the brig with you... the one I talked to..."

"What about him?"

"He's an assassin. If he approaches you at ANY TIME while you are in the guise
of Sarin, call ME *immediately*. And above all else, don't turn your back on
him. He can't be trusted... nor can anyone on this ship for that matter."

"No one? Not even you?"

Duran smiles, "You don't want me to answer that."

"I still don't understand why you are helping me, Duran."

"Let's just say I'm trying to balance my Corp'ta, my 'Book of Life'. My people
believe that there is a cosmic ledger kept for everyone, a column for good and
one for ill. It doesn't matter why you performed an action, it doesn't matter
if you knew the consequences, only that you did the deed. I have a negative
balance, I fear. So, I'm trying to make things right with the gods."

Duran considers going into a lengthy discussion on Andorian theology, but
finally decides to stuff it back where it belongs. He's never been a
particularly devout believer before, and this is a hell of a time to start.
When he finally reaches Vince's quarters, he finds K'tar and Kris there as
well. He pauses in front of the trio, shifting in his shoes for some manner of
privacy that just won't come.

"What is it?"

"Captain, the Tricani is aware that you know he's SFIC, and that he's an
assassin."

Vince looks stunned, "He does? How did he find out?"

"I told him."

"You did what?"

K'tar rolls his eyes, "If someone doesn't explain to me exactly what is going
on..."

"Look," Duran postulates, "Sarin is a traitor, giving highly classified secrets
to a foreign power. On one hand he deserves to die, or at least be arrested. On
the other hand, he tells me that what he is doing is essential for the
continuation of both the Klingons AND the Federation. I don't know why, but I
feel he may be right. Sometimes people do the wrong things for the right
reasons. I'm not sure if this is one of those situations or not."

Kris gets to her feet, "Did you tell the Tricani about the switch?"

"No, of course not."

"But you told him everything else."

"Kris, just give me a minute."

"Who the hell's side are you on anyway, Duran?!"

"Will you hear me out!?" Duran glares at her, ready to go for his phaser if she
doesn't shut-up.

"Go ahead," Vince states. "And this had better be good."

Duran takes a deep breath, "The biggest problem, right now, sir... and believe
me... this is with all _due_ respect... is not that we have two assassins
onboard with a nutcase traitor for an ambassador. The biggest problem is that
your own crew is filled with idealistic children who seem willing to follow
Sarin to their deaths just because."

"I've heard enough," Kris scowls.

"Not only that, but they are willing to kill for him. Consequently, _they_
cannot be trusted to behave like officers. I am quite sure that the Tricani's
life is in danger, perhaps at this very moment. I know mine is," he glares at
Kris, "and I _know_ I'm being watched. Your people are only amateurs, Kris, and
are quite obvious. I hate to think what might happen if they actually tried to
step in my way."

"Why you son-of-a..."

"Stop," Vince puts up his hand. "If there is to be violence, it'll be by my
hand alone. Is that understood?"

K'tar salutes, "Sir! Permission to space the crew!"

"Not now, K'tar."

"Maybe later, then?" K'tar tries hard not to look _too_ hopeful.

"Maybe," Vince grimaces, staring straight at the Andorian. "So, Duran, you took
it upon yourself to tell him, did ya?"

"Basically, yes. Listen, we need to get Sarin to Rigel alive but not at the
cost of other lives. We need to get Sarin to Rigel so we can _stop_ the
technology transfer. We need to regain control of the situation. Right now
Sarin is in control. He has all the cards. I don't want to see him killed any
more than you do. I also don't want him running off make decisions for my
entire government on his own. This IS a democracy, not a dictatorship, and he
isn't in charge. So, we need to keep him alive AND stop the transfer, at least
until we can figure out what is going on."

Suddenly the general quarters alarm goes off. "What the hell?" Kris thinks to
herself. "Prisoner escape," Turak's voice barks over the PA. "Prisoner escape
in the brig!"

"K'tar, you run to the brig. Try and intercept the prisoners." Vince makes for
the door, grabbing his phaser on the way, "Kris, have security set weapons on
stun. Duran, you're with me."

Once they're out the door, Duran follows Vince down the corridor to Sarin's
quarters. "They'll try to kill the Ambassador, if they can."

"You always have this intuitive a grasp of the obvious?"

A moment later, they're at the newly erected forcefield. Vince hits a comm-port
in frustration, "Will somebody on the bridge please lower this damn thing?"

Higashi's voice sounds through the speaker, "Uh... I'm sorry sir, but without
visual verification..."

"Damnit, Ensign! Lower the damn field!"

"Uh... Yessir!"

They're through it a moment later, Oein, Tsandzia, and T'lar coming out ready
to engage hand-to-hand if necessary.

"Is Sarin alright?"

"Well, he's rarely wrong," Tsandzia nods.

"He's fine," Oein doesn't elaborate about his recent, vulcan-inflicted, deja
vu. "What's going on?"

"I have no idea, but if it turns out that the Tricani busted out and freed his
friends, I'm going to personally punch-out K'tar or die trying."

"My money's on the later," Duran mutters.

Oein's about to calculate fair odds when he is suddenly seized by an idea.
"Captain, this would be an excellent moment to execute our plan."

"What!?! Are you out of your Romulan skull?! On no account is Sarin to expose
himself until..."

"Sarin wouldn't _expose_ himself," Tsandzia makes a confused face, "except
maybe to T'lar, that is." She glances curiously at her friend.

"What about Histlin." T'lar looks worried. "You didn't take her back to the
brig, did you?"

"No," Duran withdraws his communicator. "Duran to Histlin." He blinks
impatiently. "Duran to Histlin! Damnit! There must be comm-suppression on the
field."

Suddenly there are several bursts of phaser fire from down the corridor, the
only thing saving them being the forcefield which Higashi fortunately re-
engaged. Several of the "Iotians" are standing there, each firing on the
forcefield in a concerted effort to overload it and hence force its collapse.
Considering that the field was erected ad hoc, Vince doesn't estimate that
they'll have much trouble achieving their objective.

"Everybody back inside," he bolts back into the Ambassador's room, finding a
comm-port nested conveniently on the wall. "Deck 4, emergency! We're under
attack!"

Tsandzia's yanks him out of the way, "Higashi! Lower the damn field and
transport us out of here."

"And flood areas six and seven with quadrite gas," T'lar adds from behind.
There's no acknowledgement, however, leaving little in the way of hope that
somebody up there is actually carrying out their orders.

Vince runs back to the door, taking a peek just in time to see the forcefield
collapse. He points his phaser and fires into the pack of Iotians, nailing one
in the chest. As the others take cover against the walls, Tsandzia squeezes
around Vince and sprints down the corridor toward her quarters, letting loose
with a bolt of lightning just for cover.

"We actually have quadrite onboard?" Duran looks skeptically at T'lar as he
fiddles some more with his communicator.

"Doubtful, but I'm sure we have something we can use. After all, Kris would be
prepared for this sort of thing, right?"

Duran groans, "We're doomed." Then turns back toward Sarin with his last
vestiges of hope. "Ambassador, got any precognitive ideas on how this is going
to turn out?"

"Your last statement pretty well sums it up."

Suddenly, they all hear the audible whine of transporter beams.

"Yea!"

Then all goes black.


Stardate 6003.28 at 1810 Hours: USS Phobos, Brig
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Calm down. Jes tell me what happened."

Turak takes a deep breath, which is pretty big considering the average lung
capacity of most Tellarites. "I was just standing here, guarding the prisoners,
when I hear somebody shout out in the corridor like they were hurt or
something. I went to look, and before I knew what happened, I was on the floor
with a headache. And all the prisoners were missing."

Hawkins nods, "Somebody must have stunned you."

"No, the alarms would have went off. And I don't think my skull would hurt
quite so much." He rubs his temples.

Just then K'tar arrives, "Where are the prisoners?"

"They escaped. Somebody here ambushed Turak."

"It had the be the Tricani."

K'tar growls, somewhat displeased with himself for underestimating the alien.
It was a mistake he will not repeat, he finally decides. He hits a comm-port,
"Bridge, advise security to run a full sweep for the prisoners. They are not
here, and," he adds, glancing toward Turak, "there are no signs of battle...
yet."

Trozena acknowledges on the other end, "Kris has her personnel organized into
two teams and wants you to organize a third. Take decks... what the..."

K'tar's eyes bulge halfway out of their sockets, "Bridge! Is anyone there?!"


Stardate 6003.28 at 1810 Hours: USS Phobos, Engineering
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Leaning on the edge of the central control console in Main Engineering, Kris
stares at the various crewmembers clustered around her, trying her best of look
something like Dwight Eisenhower on D-Day. Almost the entire security staff is
there, most of them nervous over the report of prisoners loose on the ship.
Likewise, the engineers are busying themselves by securing flammable chemicals
and various pieces of delicate equipment in case of a phaser-fight, and a
number of medics are down there as well, Jake having sent them down on some
pretended detail to get them out of sickbay long enough for the transfer to
take place. So much for the transfer, she thinks to herself. She turns toward
Soroc with a grim look on her face.

"I want unrestricted access to this ship's computer and I want it now. If these
escapees manage to take out the bridge, we'll be the only people keeping this
ship under Federation control." She gets up from her seat, "Ekstrom, you're
with me. Sorrows, take Shannon, Conrad and Archer, find Sarin and keep him
under wraps. The rest of you pair off into teams of two and secure this deck.
Phasers on heavy stun. Now move out.

"Aye aye, sir."

Suddenly there's a giggle from the PA. "Heavy stun? Really now, Lieutenant.
Aren't you being just a tad severe?"

Kris looks toward the ceiling, "P'notto? Is that you?!"

"Correction. The name is Max. Agent Max to you, and I'm assuming control of
this vessel on behalf of Star Fleet Intelligence Command."

Kris scowls, flipping through comm-channels. "Will somebody contact the Captain
and tell him to get this joker..."

"Your Captain is right here beside me, Lieutenant. He'd say a few words, but...
he's rather... er... indisposed at the moment."

"What the hell have you done with him?"

"Don't worry. He's alive. Sort of." The Tricani pats Vince's prone form once on
the head.

Suddenly there's a burst of noise on Kristin's communicator. "Kris, he's got
the Captain _and_ Sarin." It's Tsandzia's voice, and she doesn't sound in the
least bit pleased to be making the statement.

"Max... where's Sarin?"

"Oh, he's beside me too. Resting peacefully. Now... before there is any further
difficulty, I would recommend that all personnel abandon their weapons
immediately... and then proceed to cargo bay one."

"He's got to be kidding," Kris mumbles.

"And before you think it... no... I'm not kidding. If you do not do as
instructed... the consequences will be most severe."

Kris makes a cutting motion across her neck, and within moments, some bright
crewperson has disconnected the comm line to engineering.

"Thank you. He was beginning to get mildly irritating."

"Agreed," Soroc nods, thoughtfully. "It appears their people have control of
root on the ship's main computer."

Kris grits her teeth, "Get it back. First priority is to it get control of
this ship."

"We can start by taking warp and impulse offline," Gardner suggests.

"Fine. And while you're at it, cut the power to the cargo bays. I don't want
them to be able to run so much as a toaster. Ekstrom and Sorrows, stay here and
guard Engineering. The rest of you are with me. Phasers set on heavy stun. Now
let's go."

"Where are we going?" Marc Linanes has the gumption to query.

"To take out the trash."


Stardate 6003.28 at 1815 Hours: USS Phobos, Computer Core
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tsandzia hurtles herself down the staircase from deck 4, almost getting her
head sheared off by a phaser beam as she rounds the last corner. The deafening
roar of vaporizing metal overwhelms the noise of her minuscule "Oh shit!", and
a moment later, she's back behind the corner, firing for all she's worth. It's
a vain effort, however. Her opponent has stationed himself behind a large metal
cabinet, strategically put at the foot of the stairs to block entry. She
glances at the jagged gash in the wall behind her and decides to play on this
guys terms, setting her phaser for disintegrate as is his.

She's so nervous, however, that she misses the cabinet entirely, taking out a
row of hapless computer terminals instead. The Iotian fires back, nailing her
in the center of the chest, and for a scarce instant, Tsandzia imagines that
this is the final moment of her life, bursts of emerald green scattering in
front of her eyes as she slams backwards into the wall behind her. Slowly, she
blinks a few times, wondering why she's still alive. Then she picks herself up,
takes a moment to dust off, checks the fit of the borg belt which just saved
her life, and finally makes a really big grin for her attacker.

"That was neat... can we do it again?"

His jaw drops in utter horror as he goes sprinting back into the server room.

"Oh, no you don't." She pursues the Iotian around the corner, resetting her
phaser on stun. "Stop and drop it!" Before she can fire, however, she suddenly
finds herself being blasted from two separate angles by a pair of phaser beams.
A tingling sensation flutters over her as the personal shield flickers from the
onslaught. Then she's hit again, and again.

"What the hell?"

"Don't ask me. Just keep her pinned while I call the Commander."

Tsandzia rolls end over end, trying in vain to avoid the phaser beams and
wondering how long the borg shield will hold.

"Group B requesting back-up."

"What's going on?"

"There's this woman up here..."

"One woman?!" Laughter is heard from the other end of the line.

"Sir, we just can't penetrate her..."

"You limp weenies! Send me her coordinates and I'll personally beam this ice
queen off the starboard bow."

"Aye sir."

Tsandzia sets her phaser on disintegrate and fires a long stream into the
server chamber, hoping she hits something vaguely important, like the core
itself. A moment later, however, she's just firing into darkness, the dim
outline of the Phobos slouching below her in the black of space.


Stardate 6003.28 at 1815 Hours: USS Phobos, Bridge
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Duran slowly comes around, his body tingling all over as though either he'd
just had the ultimate intimate experience with a certain Deltan back on the
Excalibur, or... what is infinitely more likely, as though he'd been stunned
in the middle of a transporter beam.  As he opens his eyes, he sees the
Tricani's smiling face blurring in and out of focus. 'Shit! Twice in one
freaking day!'

"What's the matter?"

"I was hoping for someone else," Duran confesses. "What happened?" He tries to
get up only to find out he can't.

"We had to incapacitate you... for your own good, of course."

Duran yanks against the sticker-cuffs which effectively hold his hands glued to
the deck. "What the? What are you doing? I had everything under control. I had
just gotten their complete trust."

"And in the process, lost mine."

"Excuse me? I didn't lose yours. We were eavesdropped upon. I didn't tell
anyone who you were." Duran struggles against the cuffs, "Would you let me up
so we can talk? You have the damn phaser, what the hell do you think I'm gonna
do?"

"If the past is any indication of the future... probably slam my face into a
control panel."

Duran groans, "I was just doing my job."

"Yeah, tell it to the Jews, buddy."

The Andorian's eyes cross in frustration. "That was before I even knew who you
were. Ever since then, I've given you nothing but my fullest respect. Ask
them." Duran indicates the others, "They don't trust me one iota. Hell, they
never believe a word I say."

"With good reason."

"They got your identity from the eavesdropping. Remember, I'm the one who told
you they were on to you. You might have gotten yourself killed *IF* I hadn't
warned you."

Maximus thinks back to the interrogation with K'tar. Duran had just allowed him
to be dragged off by that overgrown ape. It was then that he'd decided that the
Andorian was playing with two decks of cards.

"Why am *I* being held?" Duran continues. "And what are *YOU* doing trying to
take over *MY* mission when I had it all under control? Who in the hell do you
think you are? And I don't want to continue yelling our business across the
room in front of these people so will you *PLEASE* get these damned cuffs off
me!"

Oein finally wakes up with a sudden snort, his hands similarly bound. Then he
looks around and spots the Tricani. "P'notto, seyre ulisiat floequat!"

"The name's Max, and before you call me a fool, remember which one of us is
holding a phaser, eh?"

Oein blinks, "You speak Romulan?"

The Tricani smirks, gripping a communicator in his other hand. "Has anyone
shown up yet?"

"No sir."

"Well, maybe they need a little demonstration of authority in action. Tham,
open the airlocks on... deck 7."

K'tar grits his teeth, stepping toward the nearest comm link. "Lt. St. James.
Deck 7 is secure." Suddenly his hears what sounds like an explosion as the
air begins rushing around him. "Lt. St. James. Deck 7 is becoming a vacuum."

Duran feels his blood run cold, wondering how many crew were just killed so
that his counterpart in secrecy could make a point. "You son of a bitch! Those
are Star Fleet personnel!"

Oein tries to tear his hands off the floor, but only succeeds in making the
skin around his wrists chafe and tear. So angered is he, that he again lapses
into his native tongue. "Queus staradus SFIC transtan begal um teleis quemstam
regalat flaxdant?"

"Speak for yourself, Commander. SFIC does know all about Sarin, and my being
here is proof that we don't intend to let him proceed with this treason."

"Why do you think that your petty attempt to kill Sarin would ever work? He is
just a PAWN. It would not matter if you destroy him with the entire ship, the
technology transfer would still take place."

"No it won't. Because Sarin knows that if he doesn't fess-up this very
minute... destroying this ship is exactly what I will do." He stares toward
the awakening Vulcan with as convincing a stare as he can muster for the
occasion. "Tham, prepare to open the airlocks on decks 2 through 6."

"P'notto, hear me." Oein starts. "It's no good to kill this crew while Sarin is
waking up. I'll order them to the cargo bay."

The Tricani rolls his eyes, then opens up a comm-port to the PA system. "You
have exactly one minute."

Oein acquiesces, "This is Commander Oein tr'Remas. I am hereby ordering a full
surrender of this vessel. All crewmembers are to lay down their weapons and
proceed to cargo bay one."


Stardate 6003.28 at 1820 Hours: USS Phobos, Cargo Bay #1
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As expected, the cargo bay is pretty much pitch black when Kris arrives via
turbolift with her squad of hellbent ruffians (i.e. engineers and medics plus
one security officer who looks like he'd rather be anywhere but the Phobos).

"Okay, switch off the lights. I don't want to be too conspicuous when we open
these doors."

"Got it."

"Okay. Now."

They instantly spread out as the doors open, each slithering along the walls
and floor, hoping not to cast a shadow in the icy darkness.

Suddenly the PA sounds. "This is Commander Oein tr'Remas. I am hereby ordering
a full surrender of this vessel. All crewmembers are to lay down their weapons
and proceed to cargo bay one."

"Over my fucking incinerated corpse," Kris whispers, throwing out a set of hand
flares. "Freeze assholes!"

She turns from side to side, aiming at vague shadows as her eyes adjust to the
flickering reddish light. Suddenly there's the sound of carrier ways from up
above. "Shit, they're on top of the crates." She fires a blast, but by the time
she pulls the trigger, the effort is wasted. They're gone. Only they left a
little present behind. A whining noise, rising in pitch like there's no end in
sight.

"Everybody out now!" She races off into the maze of crates, trying to gauge her
odds of finding an overloading phaser before it renders her oath ignominiously
prophetic. 'Over my incinerated corpse, indeed!'

Somebody screams from the back, "Oh shit! The lift is stuck! We're trapped!"


                      _   /|        Jim Vassilakos
                      \`o_O'        [e-mail]
                        ( )         [e-mail]
                         U          Riverside, California

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