Danny Amor's Online Library/Danny Amor's Online Library - Volume 1.iso/html/startrek/old-incomplete/fargin

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Article 796 of alt.startrek.creative:
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From: [e-mail] (The Friend)
Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
Subject: Fargin story (old repost)
Message-ID: <[e-mail]>
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: <[e-mail]>
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: <[e-mail]>
To: rcs
Status: R

CHAPTER THREE

    "Get those d
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       Scott Rowin                   ///  [e-mail]
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 - SPACE OPEN FOR LEASE -      \-\_///    Amigas really do it better...