Danny Amor's Online Library/Danny Amor's Online Library - Volume 1.iso/html/startrek/old-incomplete/hypernovelproject.ch1

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From: [e-mail] (Sascha M. Busch)
Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
Subject: ST:TNG Hyper Novel Project - DELAYS CHAPTER ONE
Date: 6 Jan 94 11:55:52 GMT
Organization: Universitaet Paderborn, Germany
Lines: 257
Message-ID: <[e-mail]>
NNTP-Posting-Host: pbhrzx.uni-paderborn.de


Hi!
Perhaps you remember the 'ST:TNG Hyper Novel Project'. I've
posted an invitation to join us, the plot, and the prologue
some weeks ago here. This now is the first chapter. Enjoy!
===================================================================


                            CHAPTER ONE

Sutek sat contemplating the absence of the moon.  The starlit skies
above Vulcan cast a faint light upon the ground, illuminating his seated
form. One may not know the lack of a thing, yet still feel its absence,
he thought to himself.
    *Brother?*
    Sutek replied to the mind-touch wordlessly as his sister came up the
slope.
    >Do you intend to spend the entire evening here?< Sh'hul asked.
    >Perhaps.  I have not yet decided.<
    Sh'hul remained standing behind him, her arms folded.  >Have I given
offense?  I sought only to know your opinion.<
    >I have not taken offense, Sh'hul.  You forget yourself.  I simply
find your arguments without merit.  There is no logic in removing Vulcan
from the Federation.<
    >And yet is it logical to remain in a conflagration of worlds
devoted to illogical principles?  Is this what Surak intended?  That the
purity of our logic be diluted by necessity?<
    Sutek turned and looked up at dark outline of his sister.  >We
cannot be isolate.<
    Sh'hul knelt down beside him.  >There is no need,< she said, with
the barest hint of excitement in her voice.  >It is true that we rely on
the Federation.  Yet if we were to unite with others of our kind, others
that could know the value of logic, we would be complete.<
    Sutek lifted an eyebrow.  >Of whom do you speak?<
    >The sundered kin of Romulus.<
    >Indeed,< he replied.  >I was not aware that the Romulans were
interested in a peaceful reunification with Vulcan.  Their habits have
shown them to be rather... aggressive.<
    >They cannot prevail.  Even the mightiest mountain can be worn down
by gentle winds.<  Sh'hul gazed at him closely.  >We would have this
thing.  Surely you can see the logic in our way.<
    *Ah,* thought Sutek.  >Am I to assume that you are attempting to
draw me into your alliance, Sh'hul?<
    The Vulcan woman stood.  >I ask only that you consider your
position, Sutek.<  She glanced up at the night sky.  >Do you look for
something? Perhaps you have missed something that waits elsewhere.<
    He watched as she strode back down the slope toward their dwelling.
Have I missed the moon? he thought.

                                * * *

"Dammit!"
    Geordi hit the graviton output control panel very hard. But neither
the panel nor the gravitons seemed impressed by his shouting and the use
of brute force.  At least his hand showed a result, albeit unintended:
It hurt.
    This must be one of the famous everything-seemed-to-be-fine-until-
you-jump-off-your-bed-and-bruise-your-head-because-of-a-partial-SGG-
failure days, thought La Forge.  And, of course, as Chief Engineer, his
job was it to repair the Synthetic Gravity Generators as soon as
possible.
    Well, he had done his best for the last eight, no, nine hours.  He
checked the four seperate Gravity Modules and, thank God, only one
was playing jokes on him.  So far so good.  The bad news was that the
computer had not noticed the attraction field degradation.  So, he ran
a diagnostic on the computer that showed that the tractor beams were not
functioning either. None of them. All seven emitters, as dead as a dodo.
Eventually, with Data's help he tracked down the computer error that
they thought was responsible. But when they found that correcting the
fault created nine others, Geordi realised that it was NOT going to be
a good day.
    "Why are these spin tins not working?" exclaimed Geordi.
    Data pondered his remark. "Ah," he suddenly retorted, "spin tins!
You are referring to the Synthetic Gravity Generators, because they
contain superconducting stators rotating at a rate of 125,540 rpm and
are shaped like ancient containers made of tinned iron or another metal,
in which foods or other perishable products were sealed for
preservation. Is this what you would consider funny, Geordi?"
    Geordi thought of raising his eyes questioning to heaven above but
decided not to.  If there were a heaven it certainly did not know where
above was on the Enterprise.  "No, Data, it is not. I'm just tired of
calling them Synthetic Gravity Generators."
    "So it is a nickname!"
    "No, it's more a... call it what you want, yes, it is a nickname for
God's sake! Please, Data, can we get this done!"
    "I have hurt your feelings."
    "You certainly did not."  Geordi looked back at the panel and
pointed with his finger at the output efficiency control statistics.
    "This, this is wrong. The electro plasma system of the second Saucer
Module is running at only 73 per cent every 19.3 seconds for 7 seconds.
Exactly the same thing is happening if we activate any of the
tractor..."  Geordi's voice trailed off. Suddenly he grabbed his VISOR,
took it off his head, and threw it on the flor.
    "Nooo!" he screamed.
    He took a step backwards, stumbled, and was caught by Data.
    "What is the matter, Geordi?"  Data tried to sound alarmed. He did
a good job of it.

                                * * *

Picard took a deep breath. He had just finished the red tape for
Starfleet concerning the casulties of the last incident.
    Some years ago someone had been so kind to indroduce him to the
greatest danger to humanity. A race that had the blood of billions of
humanoid life forms on their hands, a race so dangerous that it nearly
had subdued the whole Federation. And now they had left them behind,
bereft of their power.  The Borg he had met were only a shadow of the
collective they once belonged to.  They would need years or decades to
become a race of their own.
    This is strange, he thought, there had been times when I wanted to
execute them for what they had done to me and now I pity them.
    Picard put down his cup of tea and leaned back.  In front of him he
contemplated the line of four empty tea cups.  He should have put them
into the recycler, for they were energy from the ship's gererators and
were of no use in their material form for anyone on board.
    He did not recognize how much time had passed when Riker's voice
came over the speaker in his ready room.
    "Bridge to Picard."
    Habit pulled him upright in his seat. "Yes, Number One?"
    "We have received a message from Starfleet Command.  I've sent it to
your terminal.  By the way, I think it is the answer to our request for
shore leave."
    The captain called up the new information and read the first few
lines.  "Indeed; how did you know?"
    "It was not sent on a secured channel."
    "Then, Mr Riker, you can spread the good news that we will will be
spending our next three days on..."  He read the screen a bit further.
    "Yes?"
    "Vulcan" - he concluded.
    "Uh, Sir, was that Risa I just heard?" asked Riker lamely.
    "No, sorry.  But Vulcan is famous for its architecture."
    "... and temperatures in the hundreds."
    "I'm sure the Vulcans of our crew will be glad to visit home.
Although I doubt they will show any signs of euphoria. Thank you, Number
One, I'll inform Counselor Troi. Picard out."
    Now that is good news, thought Picard. He would ask Troi to include
him in the shore leave schedule for one day. He would visit the Vulcan
Archaeology Museum and some friends. Poor Riker, he thought, the logic
will kill him.

                                 * * *

Data handed the VISOR back to Geordi who hesitated a while.
    "There is absolutely no evidence for a modification of the VISOR in
order to receive E-band emissions. I could not detect any changes at
all."
    La Forge put the device on.  "That means, you're saying that I made
it up, just as Troi did.  I'm howling mad, gaga.  Ain't there a room on
board with snuggly walls somewhere?"
    Troi put a comforting hand on Geodi's shoulder.  They were in her
office.  After the incident in engineering no one could have pesuaded
Geordi to use his VISOR again.  Data suggested that Geordi should have
a talk with the ship's counselor while he ran some diagnostics on the
device.  La Forge was not very glad about this perspective, but he
surely knew nothing better to do.
    "Geordi," Troi said, "I think you're overreacting a bit. You are not
mad.  You are just overworked.  You imagined seeing the Romulan signs."
    "And what do you think I should do now?  Talk about my experience as
a killer again?  Or about Romulan conditioning techniques?"
    Data, who was still standing near the door, pondered the situation.
"Would that be of help, Counselor?" he finally asked.
    "I don't think so.  Geordi, what you need are some days off."
    "What do you mean?  Some days off duty?"
    "I think I mean some days off the Enterprise.  I advice you to take
shore leave on Vulcan."
    "Vulcan?  That is the most boring place I know."
    "No, Geordi," Data interupted, "it is a facinating planet. You can
do a lot of interesting thing there: Study their history of space
flight, visit the Vulcan transwarp project, join a seminar about logic,
examine..."
    "Okay, it is not the least intersting place. Although it's not a
holiday colony."  Geordi let out a deep sigh.  "All right. But you and
Lieutenant Barclay have to work on the SSG-network. And don't forget to
implement my new program for the warp engines. Oh, for that I have to
show you the second module of the fusion preburner.  Come on let's get
going."
    Deanna gently laid her hand on Geordi's arm as he attempted to
stand.
    "Now, I did advise you to take a rest, but I can order you to do
nothing concerning engineering, lock you up in a holodeck simulation of
Professor Wagner's famous philo-biology seminar until we reach Vulcan
and then let you be beamed directly to the Forge with only a bathing
suit on, if you would prefer that."
    Geordi considered his options, slowly rose from the couch, patted
Data on the back and said "You'll have to do it alone, Data. I have a
very sensitive skin."

                                * * *

Gazing at the P'Serk Picard stood in the center court of the archeology
museum.  The multi-bladed weapon blazed in the afternoon sun streaming
through the gothic windows.
   "Captain Picard.  Greetings."
   Picard turned around.  "Well met, Setok.  I suppose this isn't a
coincidence," he said to the head of Vulcan security.
   Setok inclined his head in acknowledgement.  His eyes moved from the
Starfleet officer to the weapon beyond him.  "You are interested in the
P'Serk?"
   "I am curious why a people so dedicated to logic place a weapon of
war in the entranceway of their museum."
   "You are correct that it is highly valued, but not as a weapon. It
was brought to Surak as a challenge...

    >This weapon has killed many.  We wish it to be destroyed.<
    Surak looked at the crowd.  >Do you all wish it so?< he asked.
        >Yes!< they answered in unison.
        >Then you believe that logic can only be served through peace?<
        >Yes!  Destroy the weapon!< they shouted.
        >You are incorrect.< Surak responded.  >It is not the object,
    but your minds that have made this an instrument of destruction.<
    He took up a cutter and began to engrave the shining blades.

...Look at it, Captain."  Each blade bore an inscription in ancient
Vulcan script.  "Serenity, patience, meditation," Setok read them one by
one.  "A weapon of war thus became a token of peace."
    They took a few steps away for the P'Serk and entered a small room
with only a carpet and a window. Setok closed the door behind them.
    "I have a job for you, Picard.  You may not like it, but the
Federation security commision agreed on the plan.  It is a plan of
peace, a plan dictated by logic.  You might not recognize it at once,
so please be as open-minded as you can."
    Setok handed a isolinear chip to Picard.
    "There are only few things I can tell you right now.  We have heard
of growing stress within the Romulan Empire.  The reunionist movement is
gaining power.  But research based on data colected by Ambassador Spock
showed that the empire would not survive a change of the system.
Reunification is possible.  The price on the other side would be civil
war on nearly all colony planets of Romulus."
    Picard turned the chip over in his hand.  "What could the Enterprise
possilby do about that?" he asked.
    "Nothing.  But we have offered to help the Tal Shiar strengthen the
government's position."
    "Strengthen the Romulan government?" Picard interupted him. "What do
you mean?  Helping them maintain power in order to continue oppressing
the people of the empire?  You can't be serious.  This is not a
Federation world, Setok.  We can't just go about interfering in their
private affairs."
    "Hundreds of thousands of people will die if we do _not_ interfere.
The Romulans have agreed to a meeting in the Neutral Zone. Your job,
Picard, will be to stop at Werion II and take aboard Special Ambassador
T'Vaa. She will tell you how to proceed."
    "I understand, although not fully. When shall we depart?"
    "After the crew's shore leave. Check the data on the chip and you
will understand the logic in this."
    After that Setok left Picard alone.  Jean-Luc wondered if his new
asignment would merely be a delay to reunification or the end of it.


+-------------+----------------------------------------------------+
|  _ _  _ __  |'Remember I have done thee worthy service,          |
| <_ |\/| |_> | Told thee no lies, made thee no mistakings, served |
| __>|  | |_> | Without or grudge or grumblings...'                |
|             | Ariel in Shakespeare, The Tempest, I.2, l.247 ff   |
+-------------+----------------------------------------------------+
|       Sascha Michael Busch: [e-mail]       |
|                    Aeca - Ars est celare artem                   |
+------------------------------------------------------------------+