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Article 796 of alt.startrek.creative:
Path: ariel.unm.edu!news.cs.indiana.edu!widener!iggy.GW.Vitalink.COM!pacbell.com!ucsd!usc!apple!bionet!raven.alaska.edu!milton!amigo
From: amigo@milton.u.washington.edu (The Friend)
Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
Subject: Fargin story (old repost)
Message-ID: <1991May26.061619.2424@milton.u.washington.edu>
Date: 26 May 91 06:16:19 GMT
Organization: University of Washington, Seattle
Lines: 794
CHAPTER ONE
Captain's log: Stardate 10001.2. Captain Pavel Checkov
Reporting. We have been assigned patrol duty along the
Romulan neutral zone. While the crew of the INTREPID is
a bit nervous about the prospect, we have been keeping
high spirits.
They call it the Neutral zone, a buffer between the United
Federation of Planets and the Romulan Star Empire. The name is ironic,
however. There is nothing neutral about the zone. This single area
of space, thrity light years across a worthless region, has been the
one single ring of destruction known in the galaxy. The mere mention
of the Zone instills fear in even the most courageous Federation
officers. This buffer acts as a staging ground, a battlefield for
two very different opponents. For six score this region was known as
the enternal battlefield.
The Zone recieved its reputation since the early days of the
Federation. It was within this so-called neutral zone that the first
contact with the Romulan Empire ended in disaster. A cargo ship from
the Federation wandered into their territory and was obliterated. The
executioners never attempted a dialogue, but just kept raiding vessels
until eventually war was declared.
The Romulans had poorer equipment than the Federation, but
were relentless in their assaults. The Federation lost half of her
fleet in that section of space before the war ended. And none of those
ships ever saw their executioners.
Eventually more was revealed about the Romulans. Apparently
they are Vulcanoid, but warlike and higly emotional. They are highly
efficient in the art of war, striking fast, furious, and hard. When
the giant warbirds that symboled the Romulans appeared in Federation
viewers, there could only be one outcome, war.
The Zone can never be called neutral, it more resembles an
arena of fire when the death within is considered. And, after all of
this, it has been demmed the most dangerous tour in Star Fleet, and
Captain Pavel Checkov has now assigned to it.
Checkov couldn't help but feel nervous about his duty. Not many
captains would be assigned to the neutral zone during their entire
carrer. But Checkov was special, he had confronted Romulans. Not many
in Fleet could say that, not many in Fleet would wish to knowing what
could happen to them.
Romulans were the ultimate unknown. The Federation could not
comprehend what or who the Romulans are, what they fight for, how they
relate to others, what their culture consists of. Checkov had seen
a few face to face, and had fought against them. Fleet offered him a
captaincy patrolling the Zone for all he has done, and he readily
jumped at it.
Checkov now regretted this decision. He had, for the past few
weeks, been sitting in this primarily Vulcan starship as captain,
Wishing for something, anything, to occur. "Like the RELIANT, boring
with the promise of great excitement," Checkov muttered. "Kelak, sensor
scan report, see if there are any energy irregularities."
"Sensor scan indicating no bizarre energy readings. No cloaking
patterns evident." The science officer was, like the majority of this
crew, Vulcan. Checkov felt a disdain over that, he didn't like the idea
of commanding a bunch of Spocks all day. They were all so damn boring.
"Thank you, Commander Kelak." Checkov sat back into his chair.
"Set course to outpost seven, warp three." Another six hours and this
rotten month would climax into some R&R at starbase, Checkov thought
to himself, maybe there I can see some nice human females for once.
"Now scanning an energy reading, high concentration of ions,
from astern at four thousand kilometers, closing fast." Checkov quite
quickly regained his intrest. "Definately a Romulan cloaking pattern,"
Kelak continued.
Checkov clinched the grips on his chair, almost anxiously. "Can
you match the cloaking configuration?"
"Negative, cloak configuration matches no known Romulan or
Klingon vessels specifically, but the pattern resembles that of the
Romulan cruisers, higher energy levels being the major difference here,
sir," the Vulcan said.
"Raise shields, go to yellow alert." Checkov's voice showed an
edge of nervousness. The klaxxon sounded and the crew scattered into
their defense positions. "Open hailing frquencies."
The communcator's response was a wailing of static energy."Sir,
alien vessel is jamming our communications attempts." The Vulcan tried
a few more of his bottons to no avail. "Confirmed, sir. Alien vessel
closing in on one-eight-zero mark zero. All attempts of communication
has thus far failed, communication with Fleet impossible."
Checkov looked at the viewscreen. "That is an attack posture!"
Checkov stood as he yelled. "Arm torpedoes and circle enemy vessel."
The Russian could not help but wonder just what exactly he was getting
himself into.
"Torpedoes armed." At that very same moment, there was a
rupture on the viewscreen, space ripped itself apart as stars began to
distort their images and color asserted itself upon a black canvas.
The rupture spewed the wings of a Romulan Eagle, their bird of death.
Checkov clinched his seat in a death grip. The less-controlled Vulcans
gasped. Even the most-controlled Vulcan could not easily conceal their
fear. The science officer tried, and failed to compose himself. "Sir,
Romulan NOVA class battleship in sector, she is arming torpedoes."
Checkov weighed options to himself, but he knew the Romulans
well enough not to trust them to withold fire. Checkov rubbed his chin.
Outside the battleship screamed toward the INTREPID. The science
officer spoke with an obvious nervousness, "Romulan vessel bearing on
attack pattern."
So, even the emotionless Vulcans show their fear of the giant
Romulan bird, Checkov thought to himself. "Launch torpedoes!" INTREPID
fired two balls of red-hot energy from her spine. The torpedoes crashed
into the Romulan's sheilds in a fiery glow that illuminated the black
sky. The giant vessel refused to so much as shudder.
"Arm all weapons." Checkov sat back into his chair. He hadn't
expected to go up against a Romulan Battleship, not this soon. These
battleships were used for defense only, so intelligence had assumed,
and there were no battleships with cloaking devices. At least, there
weren't until now.
The INTREPID rounded the Romulan craft to the port side. Even
from this distance the size of the battleship was imposing. The Romulan
ship unleashed a stream of light into the Federation cruiser's hull.
Bits of metal merged with fiery streaks of phaser energy to produce
a brilliant glow of hell on the cruiser.
Checkov cursed to himself. "Status report."
The Vulcan looked over his console. "Shield two is out on our
vessel with minor damage, the Romulan vessel has sustained thirty
percent damage on their number one shield." Checkov looked at the
viewer at the image of the Romulan battleship.
The Romulan ship spat forth another torpedo from its beak. The
energy-ball impacted into the formerly soft-blue sensor dish on the
INTREPID. The dish ruptured into engineering, and the resulting energy
lit the lower hull of the INTREPID ablaze. Explosions rocked up her
spine as glass, metal, flesh all were blown out the rear of INTREPID's
slender neck.
The bridge went aflame, Checkov felt his stomach lunge into
his throat as consoles around the bridge exploded in their operator's
faces. The death screams of Vulcans filled Chekov's ears. Almost
instantly crewmembers ran into the bridge and sprayed foam to put out
the fires. The remaining bridge personell ran past the charred bodies
of their former comrades to find out just what exactly had happened and
what they could do now.
Checkov looked down. "Status report, anyone." Checkov noticed
that he himself was bleeding from a piece of glass stuck into his arm
from what was the navigator's station.
"All sheilds have collapsed, major damage on all decks," the
Vulcan spoke as cooly as he could, but nervousness etched itself on his
tone. "Sensor scan damage makes reading of enemy vessel impossible. We
have lost both impulse and warp engine control." Checkov grimaced. The
Vulcan continued, rattling off countless reports and figures. "All
weapons systems are nonfunctional."
The lighting had already changed to bright red, but the drain
of power already caused the lights to flicker. Checkov slouched back
into his chair. "Are the hailing frequencies open yet?" He muttered.
A Vulcan stood up, "Aye sir, the Romulan vessel is responding."
The Vulcan pressed a few toggles and the harsh image of a Romulan
Commander.
The Romulan examined the scene carefully. "You are the captain
of the NCC-1717 USS INTREPID?" Checkov nodded in the affirmative. "I
assume you have called upon me to surrender. Truly pathetic of you, I
do say, ecspecially for a ship of my Vulcan kindred."
Checkov didn't reply, he couldn't reply to the cool, collected
Romulan. His crew gathered around him, almost begging for reassurance.
Checkov composed himself. "What is the meaning of this attack? You are
in wiolation of the neutral zone treaty, your presence is an act of
war."
The Romulan laughed. "You are in no position to dictate terms
to me. You are alive merely because I have not hit the torp controls
again. I will, of course, as we do not take prisoners, but I thought
that you should at least have to opportunity to see your executioner."
The Commander relaxed into his seat. "The meaning of this attack is
simple to undersatnd. You have lain in our path for too long. Our path
through the stars must be completed."
"Now wait just a minute, the Federation will not -"
The viewer cut off to show the Romulan battleship launch a
single torpedo from its beak toward the INTREPID. The ball of fire grew
larger in Checkov's eyes, and it would be the last thing that the
Russian would ever see.
The torpedo impacted into the already tattered neck of the
INTREPID. The two hulls parted in a brilliant explosion, and spun away
from each other. The saucer burned, and the letters of the INTREPID
slowly faded amidst the blackening hull.
The Romulan Commander smiled. Which was itself a rare sight.
But none of his minions would dare say it to him. This Commander was
very much unlike all other Romulan Commanders, he was dangerous to
cross, even more so than the standard. He was not the kind of Commander
who actually had to display his power to enforce it. He merely was
imposing by his presence. This fact pleased him to a point, it meant
that all of his men were deathly loyal to him. This is a stata that he
fully was comfortable with. <Kela, new course.> The navigator readied
herself for her orders nervously. The Commander felt her fear and
sympathized with it. He bent over to her and put his hand on her
shoulder. <Relax, Secundam. I want you to lay a course to Federation
territory, specifically the Federation defense outpost six.> The woman
nervously toggled some switches and turned the astrogation dial. The
tall Commander continued, <Proceed at warp four.> The female Romulan
shook her head quickly.
The helmsman looked over, <Engage cloaking device, lord?>
The imposing figure replied, <After we have left this section
of space and are underway. I wish to see the remnants of my prey.> The
helmsman nodded in response and readied the cloaking device.
The RISS FIERY RAVEN burned through the remnants of the late
INTREPID and flew off into space in a ribbon of red light before
seemingly rippling out of exsistance.
>From rcs Wed Jan 31 17:43:34 1990
Received: by expert.cc.purdue.edu (5.61/1.14)
id AA05798; Wed, 31 Jan 90 17:43:32 -0500
Date: Wed, 31 Jan 90 17:43:32 -0500
From: rcs (Neale Davidson)
Message-Id: <9001312243.AA05798@expert.cc.purdue.edu>
To: rcs
Status: R
CHAPTER TWO
"Enterprise to Captain Riley's shuttle, you are cleared to
dock port side primary hull torpedo bay." The little shuttle pod
skimmed alongside a giant EXCELSIOR class ship, reminding Riley of a
bee flying alongside an annoyed human. Riley sat back at the controls
and guided the petite craft around the rear of the sleek vessel.
Riley smiled at the new ENTERPRISE. From the outside at least,
the new ship was the most imposing craft he had seen. "This is Riley,
confirmed docking status, will comply in three minutes." He looked at
the vessel again. "You know Saavik, if all ships are female then this
one is a mean bitch." Saavik looked at him quizzicly. He cracked a
smile at her. "I'd hate to see her come barrelling at me."
Commander Saavik studied the vessel over as the shuttle
maneuvered over and above the call letters. USS ENTERPRISE, NCC-1701-B.
"I understand, sir. To an emotional species, this class could be quite
imposing." Of course, the ship was imposing. It was designed as the
heaviest piece of hardware in fleet, and she flaunted it. The primary
hull was round like her former ship but was broader, heavier looking,
the connection between the hulls wasn't a slender neck but more like
a trunk, the secondary hull had the familiar bulge in front, but the
sensor dish was pulled inside the ship, protecting it, and the lower
hull jetted back to a slender rear. The nacells were at right angles
and looked as if they could take an incredible amout of power flowing
through them.
Riley studied over it again. "I like the way that the neck was
expanded, it keeps the connection between the hulls much better. And
the way that the sensor dish is kept inside the hull like that, really
covers up that weak spot to engineering."
Saavik considered the Captain's words. "Which ship did you
serve on before this, sir? You sound as if you were on a CONSTITUTION
class vessel." Saavik suddenly realized that she hadn't actually
studied over the material she was given about the new crew and ship.
She would remind herself to do that when she got to her cabin.
Riley spoke without taking his gaze away from the vessel. "I
was on the USS HOOD for a few years. Served in the Triangle because I
was an expert on the Romulan people," Riley spoke distantly, trying
not to remember things as he spoke.
Saavik nearly showed a smile, "And what do you know of Romulans
then, sir?" She was wondering if he knew about her heritage, about her
mother's Vulcan life, her father's Romulan heritage. She looked at him
with a curious eye but decided not to ask him about.
Riley maneuvered the craft to point away from the ENTERPRISE on
the port side, and slowed the craft to a stop directly in front of a
docking ring. "I know quite a bit about Romulans, Saavik. Maybe someday
I will expand upon it for you." Riley spoke matter-of-factly, nearly
instilling a fear into Saavik.
The shuttle slowed back into the docking ring. "Commencing dock
sequence," spoke some unknown voice. Riley tapped a few buttons on his
console. Saavik readied herself for her entrance into the battleship
by straightening her dress uniform and taking a deep breath.
Riley merely stood up and walked to the door. After pressing a
few buttons, the doors opened into the torpedo room of the ENTERPRISE
and the new Captain and First Officer walked in.
The three-note played and everyone in the room came to. "Sorry
for the lack of personell for your greeting ceremony sir, but we're
having a hell of a time getting the ship ready." A Commander walked
in the room, past the three ensigns on hand for the ceremony. "Anyway,
welcome aboard, Captain."
"Thank you, Commander." Riley replied. "You are the engineer,
Commander Paula Grissom if memory serves." He offered his hand for a
handshake, she didn't accept it, but instead strode over to Saavik.
"I see they've put another woman in a good position on this
ship, about time Fleet started to act responsibly," the engineer said.
"Can't let these men take my ship to do god knows what for their egoes
now can we?" Riley considered for a moment that this was some feeble
attempt at humour, but decided against it after seeing Grissom's fiery
expression. Saavik raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
Well, Riley thought to himself, this one's going to be a
trouble maker. He decided to maneuver in between the two women,
somewhat unsubtly. "Commander, may I remind you of the fact that
I am the captain of this vessel and highly expect to be regarded as
such. Is that understood?"
The Commander folded her arms. She could be considered somewhat
attractive, Riley thought to himself, red hair, soft brown eyes, petit
body. Too bad she seems to be such a pain in the ass. She looked up at
him. "You just take good care of my ship, sir."
Riley didn't miss a beat. "I was going to say the same thing to
you, Commander. But I do suggest you drop that attitude. This isn't the
old ENTERPRISE, and I am not James Kirk. I do things by the book, lady.
I do not enjoy having my authority questioned." Riley left the chat end
at that and strode out of the torpedo room with Saavik following.
The two went to the turbolift, and found it nonfunctional. "I
guess this is what the engineer meant by getting the ship ready," the
Vulcan female noted.
"Well, this ought to be an intresting trip," Riley replied. "At
least the major systems are on line." He frowned at the lift once. "I
hope so, at any rate."
Saavik pointed down the cooridor. "I believe that turbolift
also will take you to the bridge." Riley looked and frowned. Saavik
started to walk to it. "You do know that it always takes a few days to
get all systems on line in any new ship. Of course the worst example
was the former ENTERPRISE which took..."
"Nevermind, Commander." Riley walked into the turbolift with
Saavik. "Bridge." Riley felt his weight shift in two directions before
this doors opened to the bridge.
"Captain on the bridge," someone called as the rest of the crew
stood at attention. The bridge wasn't in too bad of shape, there were
some missing panels however, but all he could see were missing systems
whose redundant systems were already on line. Riley let out a breath
of relief.
"At ease, everyone." Riley paced around the bridge once before
heading for his chair. "Now then, I want a status report of all the
working and nonworking functions of the ship," Riley said. "Make it
within the next hour." He sat into his chair and noted that none of the
command functions were set up. "Get a team to work on this chair also,
I would like to have my systems functional." Funny thing about needing
to call the ship to alert if neccessary, he thought.
The communications officer piped up, "Incoming message from
Star Fleet command, Captain." Riley almost let out a look of disdain.
There was usually a few days given before ships would ever be given
anything to do. Saavik was right about all new ships needing the bugs
worked out.
Riley sat back. "Ok, put it on screen." He thought again. "If
you can." Of course, if it doesn't work work, then... The young captain
found himself wondering just how bad off the old ENTERPRISE really was.
"Message on screen," the officer replied. Fortunately, the
viewer did work and the standard Federation symbol appeared on the
screen, along with a voice-over. "Federation personell assignment
officer Admiral Drake. Message reference stardate 10002.992. Delivery
to USS ENTERPRISE, EXCELSIOR class, NCC 1701-B."
The screen changed to show the battered image of Admiral Drake,
a grey-haired old fogey with no sense of humor. The man's voice was by
no means attractive either. "Greetings Captain, I hope you find your
new ship satisfactory."
Riley sat back and smirked. "Yes, Admiral , just so long as
I don't have to make her leave spacedock for a few days. You didn't
exactly tell me that the ship wouldn't be space-worthy for me." The
first officer began to wonder if Riley should check his tone with the
Admiral.
"Well, I thought that it would be a pleasant surprise for you."
The Admiral actually smiled at that remark. "Feel well off, Riley, the
HOOD is having trouble with life support right now. Do you know what
it is to work in no gravity, no light, no air on a battleship of that
size?"
Riley nodded in the negative. "Well, sir, can I assume that
this is not a pleasure chat then?" The old man nodded yes in reply.
Riley frowned. "Well, what is the bad news, sir?"
The Admiral looked down at some of his papers. "You have been
assigned to the Neutral Zone, sector six. Sorry about that, but we've
lost several ships in the aera recently and Fleet Admiral Kirk is not
exactly looking on the situation with a friendly eye."
Riley folded his arms. "Kirk eh? What's he want with us? I was
hoping to avoid dealing with him." This was a massive understatement.
All I need is for my crew to compare me with him now, Riley thought.
The Admiral smiled. "I'm not sure, but you are to rendevous
with flagship UNION at outpost three in six days. You will have to fix
your ship en-transit, just like the old days."
"Understood, sir." Riley faked a salute to the Admiral and
signalled for cutoff. The viewer went to slate grey.
Instinctively Riley went for the "Address ship" button on his
chair. It was, of course, not present, so he motioned to the Lieutenant
to patch him up. I really want my chair fixed, he thought to himself.
"ENTERPRISE, this is your Captain speaking, we have been dispatched to
the Neutral Zone effective immediately. If anything's not working blame
our engineer, she seems to have all the answers to this ship." He let
out a small smile and signaled termination of communicae. "Helmsman,
aft one-quarter impulse power."
The ENTERPRISE slowed out of her parking space inside space
dock. Her hull slid by the hulls of the smaller ships, including the
now decommissioned NCC-1701-A awaiting transit to the Star Fleet
Museum on Memory Alpha.
"Spacedock, open bay doors." Riley studied the screen. "Viewer
ahead, Mister O'Neil." The navigator complied and the screen changed
to show the center of the giant dock, with people in the various decks
waving, saluting, and praying for the craft. Riley felt a small glow
about the sendoff, nothing fancy, just a wholesome compassion from
fellow beings.
"Opening spacedock doors." The doors pulled back inside the
mammoth dock, revealing the sleek battleship ENTERPRISE, pulling itself
backwards through the door. Slowly the ship crawled backwards into
the black sky.
"We have cleared spacedock," the helmsman answered, "free to
navigate system."
Riley motioned to the Navigator, "Set course and proceed at
warp six." The was an immense weight of anticipation in the crew's
stomachs at this moment.
"Aye, sir. Course setting in, readying warp drive and transwarp
systems. Power-up time ten seconds." Riley felt a fear build up within
him. The transwarp drive system was mainly untested beyond speed of
warp nine, too many things could go wrong.
The ENTERPRISE brought herself around away from the spacedock.
And inside, the powering up of engines was the dominant noise. "Power
will be at nominal levels in six... " the computer counted.
Riley waited impatiently for the next five seconds before the
ENTERPRISE raced into warp space. "Warp one achieved, sir," the
navigator answered. "Warp one point five, Warp two..." Riley stopped
paying attention to the warp count and instead concentrated on the
"Warp three, Warp four, Warp five, now at Warp six and have cleared
Sol system."
Riley sat up and reasserted his command. "Standby transwarp
drive, engage at warp eight, accelerate to warp twelve." The ENTERPRISE
accelerated and flew past Neptune in a flash of light.
"Captain, computer reports transwarp system fully functional.
Present velocity on course at warp seven, entering warp drive." The
ENTERPRISE accelerated more, and then shook violently, metal began to
bend, and the new EXCELSIOR class ship dissappeared into a wormhole.
>From rcs Wed Jan 31 17:43:38 1990
Received: by expert.cc.purdue.edu (5.61/1.14)
id AA05804; Wed, 31 Jan 90 17:43:37 -0500
Date: Wed, 31 Jan 90 17:43:37 -0500
From: rcs (Neale Davidson)
Message-Id: <9001312243.AA05804@expert.cc.purdue.edu>
To: rcs
Status: R
CHAPTER THREE
"Get those d
--
///
Scott Rowin /// amigo@milton.u.washington.edu
*********** ///
- SPACE OPEN FOR LEASE - \-\_/// Amigas really do it better...