Danny Amor's Online Library/Danny Amor's Online Library - Volume 1.iso/html/startrek/old-incomplete/st-sw-anewenemy.p1-3

Internet Message Format | 1995-08-20 | 21KB

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From: [e-mail] (William Gracie)
Date: 09 Jan 95 13:57:54
Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
Subject: Star Trek/Star Wars-A New Enemy(1)
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For so long, I have been reading adaptions of a Star Trek/Wars battle,
      so I decided to get in on the racket.  Over the next few days (or weeks)
I shall be posting this story.  Hope it satisfies.  And I have done some
research.  For the Star Destroyer's top speeds (close to, anyway), read Dark
Force Rising (Timothy Zahn).  The AT-ATs came from a quick read of the Imperial
Technical Manual, and the AT-PTs (All Terrain Personel Transports) come from
Dark Force Rising, also.  The Star Wars section takes place just before the
book, Courtship Of Princess Leia.  Somewhere. Sit back, and flame me later...
Also note that the copyright of the story and some of the characters (The ones
that haven't appeared in either Trek or Wars) and colonies remain mine (Raymond
Cooper).  This story can be sent anywhere, so long as I am credited as author,
and this tag remains here...


            A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away...

                        STAR WARS


                       CHAPTER VII
                          A NEW ENEMY...


               It is a time of great celebration for the
               old Rebel Alliance, as the leaders of the
               Rebellion form the core Senatorsof the
               fledgling New Republic...

               But the Empire is not defeated yet...
               In a star system far from the Republican
               seat of power, Coruscant, the Imperial
               forces are regrouping for a counter-
               attack.  Leading them is Admiral Jan
               Tyran, an almost legendary strategist.

               With Imperial Star Destroyers still moving
               out of hyperspace, Tyran hopes to mount his
               offensive within a matter of days...

               Information is still trickling in to the
               New Republic Intelligence Bureau about the
               proposed assault, but no hard news has been
               delivered yet.





   "Admiral on the bridge!" a stormtrooper called out suddenly.  Ensigns
scrambled to their stations, dropping impromptu card games, stashing secrets
away in their uniforms.  Admiral Tyran was well-known to be lax about such
things as discipline, but it wasn't the done thing to have an Imperial Admiral
walk in on you playing cards on duty.
   At the far end of the bridge, the entrance opened, admitting the Admiral.
Standing roughly one point eight metres in height, Admiral Tyran cut an
imposing figure.  His uniform was spotless, Imperial standard creases visible
in certain places.  Medals jangled from his chest, here an Imperial Cluster,
for the strike back at the Rebel scum after the Yavin-4 fiasco, there a
Madillin Star for bravery beyond the call of duty.  That one was for saving the
Emperor.  Hooded eyes swept the command pit, observing the remains of games all
around.  Tyran didn't mind the crew playing games, as long as efficiency
ratings didn't fall below the Imperial standard.
   He motioned to the Star Destroyer's Captain.
   "Larod, how long before the outermost parts of the attack fleet arrive?"
   Larod consulted a Lieutenant in the pit.  "Approximately thirty-one hours,
Admiral."  He went to say something more, then halted.
   "Status, Captain."
   Larod had been waiting for this.  "We have seventeen Star Destroyers here,
each carrying an assortment of two thousand TIE Fighters, TIE Bombers, TIE
Interceptors, Assault Gunboats, forty AT-ATs, twenty AT-STs, and fourteen
AT-PTs.  Engineering reports readiness in deflector shields, cloaking device,
tractors, hyperdrive, and turbolasers.  All Destroyers crewed with
approximately thirty-seven thousand crew."  He paused.  "And we have
Lambda-class assault shuttles on each vessel.  A total of eighty-five assault
shuttles.  Plus thirty-four gamma-class shuttles."
   Tyran nodded.  "Inform the other Destroyers here that we shall be leaving
now.  Coruscant hasn't yet had the chance to prepare itself for any kind of
assault, and seventeen Star Destroyers are more than a match for the three
capital ships the Rebels have in orbit."
   "Intelligence reports two more Mon Calamari cruisers will be in orbit of
Coruscant by fourteen hundred thirty tomorrow, along with a Dreadnought, and
four Corellian Corvettes.  And don't forget Coruscant's orbital defense
network.  The Coruscant ODN was designed to be impregnable.  And Intelligence
also reports that's operational."
   "You have been in contact with Imperial Intelligence?" Tyran asked quickly.
Lorad paled.  "Good, saves me a call.  Did they say whether the Rebels have
found out about this attack yet?"
   Lorad shook his head.  "No.  But they confirm Skywalker, Organa, and Solo
are away.  And they have heard rumours that the Rebels have captured Star
Destroyers under their control."
   "Still, we can have the others join us at the battle, hmm?"  Tyran waited
for Lorad's confirmation from Tactical.  "We will therefore take leave of this
place.  Inform the other Captains we will be leaving for Coruscant within an
hour.  I'll be in my quarters."
   With that, the Admiral turned on his heel, and left.
   Lorad moved to Communications.  "Get me the Doomsday..."
                       ******

   Seeing seventeen Star Destroyers move into hyperspace was not a sight to be
seen commonly, even when the Empire was at its greatest.  The Deathwing led,
with the Doomsday and Spearwatch flying flanking positions, the Runamuck,
Lodestone, Dark Knight and Dark Angel in a rearward position.  Behind them came
the main force: the Avenger, the Stormwatch, the Guardian, the Armadillo, the
Blasphemer, the Blindfold, the Cerberus, the Ominous, the Nightfall, and the
Hammerhead.  All moved through hyperspace at a Star Destroyer's top speed of
one hundred twenty-eight light years an hour.
   But in front of the convoy, something... happened.  Something began to warp
the fabric of space/time, ripping a hole between here and there, between now
and then.  Gravity, for some reason, concentrated itself in this area, ripping
space itself apart.  This anomaly is more commonly known as a wormhole.
   No one saw the seventeen Star Destroyers disappear into another galaxy.  No
one ever found out what happened to Admiral Tyran.  No one in this galaxy...

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From: [e-mail] (William Gracie)
Date: 09 Jan 95 13:58:38
Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
Subject: Star Trek/Star Wars-A New Enemy(2)
Message-ID: <[e-mail]>
Organization: Soft-Tech [phone]
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Please note that, once again, copyright of some characters, colonies, and
                         the story remains mine (Raymond N. Cooper's), 1995.
This story can be sent anywhere, so long as I am credited as author, and this
tag doesn't disappear!


                       CHAPTER ONE

   Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the Federation starship USS Enterprise studied
the reports that had come in since his last shift.  Romulans moving up and down
the Neutral Zone, making attempts to get through the tachyon detection grid.  A
possible Borg sighting near Bajoran space, and a possible related incident of a
Cardassian fleet running from Bajoran space after a Borg battlecube turned up.
Picard tagged that for further reading.
   What else?  He scanned his padd, but nothing jumped out of the screen at
him.  Picard got out of his chair, and headed for the bridge.  The crew sat
calmly, collected, going about their jobs efficiently, as the Captain sat in
his chair.  He turned his gaze from the viewscreen to his First Officer.
"Nothing exciting?" He asked, a smile on his face.
   William T. Riker smiled in return, his child-like face wrinkling under his
beard.  "No, sir.  Nothing.  I would've thought Starfleet would have had us
doing something by now."
   "Mmm.  They usually do, Number One.  But not this time, it seems."  The
Captain stood.  "I think I'll... catch up on some reading."  He began to leave.
   "Incoming message from Starfleet, Captain."
   Picard sighed; it looked like Henry VIII would have to wait.  Again.  "On
screen, Mister Worf."
   The mainscreen's starfield was replaced by the picture of Admiral Karol, a
balding, over weight male human.  He peered out of the screen, as if
short-sighted.
   "Ah, Captain.  I hope you're not doing anything important...?"
   "No, sir, we're not," Picard answered, returning to his chair.
   "Well, then, we have a mission for you.  Have you ever heard of the T'Ruffen
colony, near Hydras-Beta?"
   "Yes," Picard nodded.  "The mining world?"
   "Correct.  We... seem to have lost contact with the colony there,
all-in-all, about three thousand people.  You're the closest ship in the area;
well, Starfleet ship, that is, and we'd like you to take a look for us."
   "Of course, Admiral.  Do you have any idea what we can expect?"
   The Admiral sighed.  "Unfortunately, we can't say.  It could be a faulty
transmitter, a broken power conduit, or it could be..."
   "Something more sinister?" Picard queried.
   "Exactly.  Not only are you the closest ship, but you're also the most
powerful starship within a four sector radius."  Karol glanced off screen, and
picked up a padd.  "If you need help, we can also send the... Faragut, the
Grissom, and the Copernicus.  If you require assistance.  Karol out."
   The picture faded, replaced in turn by the outside starfield.
   "Mister Data, set a course for the T'Ruffen colony.  Warp seven."  He turned
and left the bridge.  "Inform me when we arrive, Mister Data."
                       ******

   The T'Ruffen colony, on the fourth planet from Hydras-Beta, shuddered under
heavy attack.  Colonists ran to and fro, trying to hide from falling chunks of
plastic and metal, sizzling curcuits dropping out of the ceilings.
   Outside, phaser blast after phaser blast fired at the towering attackers.
But, relentlessly, the enemy came on.  Walkers, moving on four powerful legs,
fired laser blasts, one after another, from the head-mounted cannons.
   This was an Imperial All Terrain Armoured Transport, a heavy ground-assault
vehicle.  And it was doing its job just fine.
   "Commander Fawnj to Admiral Tyran.  We have neutralised all defenses.  You
can begin the troop landings."  The Commander stretched out an arm, and
activated the intercom to the rear of the AT-AT.  "Speeder bike group Alpha,
prepare for your attack run."
   "Copy," came the reply.  A door in the side of the AT-AT opened, and four
speeder bikes streaked out of the behemoth, heading for the ground.  Skimming
the surface, they rushed at the colony, firing into crowds, and rounding them
up.
   Five minutes later, two thousand five hundred people had been gathered.  The
rest were dead.  One of the colonists looked skywards, saw something flash, and
tapped the person next to him's shoulder.
   The sparkle resolved itself into a group of shuttles.  Slim wings pulled up
as the lead angular ship nuzzled in close to the ground.  Underneath the
cockpit, a hatch opened, dropping a ramp down to the ground.  Soldiers in white
bone-like armour ran down the ramp, dropping into defense positions until two
AT-ATs moved in covering positions.  A small two-legged walker, an AT-ST,
circled the crowd.
   Slowly, the other shuttles touched down, ramps opened, and stormtroopers
took up their assigned positions.  Guns pointed expertly into the crowd, each
trooper covering the maximum amount of people possible with the smallest firing
arc.
   From the lead shuttle, footsteps pounded down the ramp.  Feet came into
view, then a grey uniform, medals covering the chest.  Then a face, intensely
cunning, wise, and hard.
   "Good work, Major," he murmured to a nearby stormtrooper.  The trooper
nodded acknowledgement.
   "Peoples of this planet," Tyran said, raising his voice so the whole crowd
could hear him.  "You are now under Imperial control.  You no longer belong to
whatever kind of interstellar government you used to subscribe to.  You will
now follow Imperial commands.  Do as you are told, and no harm shall come to
you.  Do otherwise..." Tyran gazed callously around the crowd, staring
pointedly at dead bodies.  He didn't like the sight of human death any more
than the colonists did, but, for the sake of subjugating the colony,rebuilding
- as it were - Imperial territory, building a power base, he pretended to be
callous.  "I am taking my leave of this planet, but I shall leave behind a
Governor, and stormtroopers.  Any form of rebellion will be ruthlessly
exterminated.  Utterly."  He turned, and walked back up the shuttle's ramp.
   "To the Deathwing, sir?" the pilot asked Tyran, as he took the co-pilot's
seat.
   "Hmmm," Tyran agreed.  He stared down at the colonists.  The technology,he
hadn't seen before.  He'd though when they'd come out of hyperspace that they'd
been transported to the Outer Rim territories, but he hadn't heard anything
like this on the Rim.  Astrogation was mapping the stars now, trying to find
out where the fleet had turned up.
   Tyran glanced at his wrist chronometer.  By now, if everything had gone to
plan, the Rebels had been chased off Coruscant.  And why shouldn't it go to
plan?  There where some good tacticians in the ships that hadn't rendez-voused
with the main fleet.  But seven Star Destroyers against five Mon Calamari
cruisers... Coreelian Corvettes... the Coruscant ODN...
   That was something that seemed strange, though.  There was no deflector
shield surrounding the planet below.  No orbital defense stations.  No capital
ships in orbit to protect to mining colony.
   The only thing in orbit that could have been classed as defense was an old
ship, box-like, with large thrusters protruding from the rear.  It didn't have
any noticable weapons, at least, until it fired.  Then, power distribution
nodes, and phased relay systems had been located.  Minimal damage had been
taken on the shields, and impact damage had been taken, but the vessel had been
destroyed, a single turbolaser blast cutting through what passed for shields (a
pitiful attempt at matter/energy shielding), and destroyed an anti-matter
engine.  Or turbine.  Or something.  Anti-matter. An unstable form of matter,
well, not matter, but close enough... The Empire never used it, it was too
dangerous.
   The shuttle docked with the Star Destroyer Deathwing.  The sleek grace and
efficiency of Imperial technology never ceased to amaze Tyran, and now was no
different.  Repair crews swarmed over shuttles and equipment as the shuttle's

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From: [e-mail] (William Gracie)
Date: 09 Jan 95 13:59:22
Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
Subject: Star Trek/Star Wars-A New Enemy(3)
Message-ID: <[e-mail]>
Organization: Soft-Tech [phone]
Lines: 89
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Please note that some of the characters, colonies, and the story is
                   copyright 1995 to Raymond N. Cooper.  This story can be sent
anywhere so long as I am credited as author, and this tag remains here.


                       CHAPTER 2

   "Aye, Captain, slowing to impulse."
   Captain Picard stared out at the approaching planet.  Something wasn't
right.  By now, they should have had even a radio message from the colony. But
nothing.  Silence...
   "Is there anything there?" he asked to no one in particular.
   Data studied his console.  "I can find no subspace signals coming from the
planet's surface, Captain.  There are also no subspace signals from any orbital
vessels."
   "There seems to be a disturbance on the planet's surface, Captain," Worf
growled.  "The colony has been damaged.  Energy weapons have been discharged
recently."
   "A revolution?" Picard wondered aloud.  He turned to Deanna Troi, the ship's
counsellor.  "Can you find anything, counsellor?"
   Troi's gaze became unfocussed.  "There is... something nearby.  I can not
tell what it is, it seems to be hidden... the planet... the colonists are
alive, but frightened."  She turned to the Captain.  "I shouldn't be able to
feel them from here, Captain.  Their emotions are strong.  Something has
happened."
   "I am picking up the remains of a vessel in a low orbit, Captain," Data
reported.  "I am running the debris through the computer... Captain," the
android turned to face Picard, "It is a Federation Antares-class freighter. It
has been fired upon."
   "Red alert, Number One."
   Riker ran through a checklist in his mind, mentally ticking off each part as
he called out orders.  He turned to Picard.  "It's all yours, Captain."
   "Mister Worf, inform the Grissom, the Copernicus, and the Farragut that we
may need assistance.  Ask them their ETAs from their current positions, also."
   Worf replied moments later.  "They stand ready to assist, Captain.  The
Farragut is three hours away, the Copernicus is twenty minutes, and the Grissom
is five hours away from us."
   "I am also detecting some kind of energy field, Captain."  Data tapped out a
sequence on his console.  "It seems to be in the form of three ships.
Correction: it is inside three ships.  The energy field, I theorize, is some
kind of primitive cloaking device."
   Three dots became visible on the main screen.  They grew larger as the
Enterprise moved towards them, as they moved towards the Federation ship. The
dots resolved into wedge-shaped craft of massive proportions.
   "Data, what can you tell us about these... vessels."
   Data glanced at his console displays.  "The upper superstructure seems to be
the bridge.  It has a hangar - possibly for shuttlecraft, or fighters -and runs
on a nuclear reactor of a scale that mankind has not seen before. It is using
some kind of shield technology, the like of which I have never seen before.
The ship matches no known description within Federaion or Starfleet files."  He
turned back to Picard.  "I suggest we try to find out more about this vessel.
The cloaking device is scrambling our sensor readings of the interior, so we
have no way of knowing if this is indeed what it appears to be: a vessel of
war."
   "Agreed, Mister Data.  Mister Worf, open a channel."  Picard stood,
straightening his uniform as he walked towards the main screen.  He stopped
just before the channel was opened from the other side.
   "I am Captain Jean-Luc Picard, of the Federation starship USS Enterprise. I
welcome you to Federation space.  Our intentions are non-hostile." He stopped
suddenly, in the middle of his prepared speech.
   The figure that had appeared on the screen was dressed in grey military
uniform.  Medals hung along his chest, giving the impression of a great many
victories.  But it wasn't the uniform that made Picard stop.
   The face was hard, seemingly carved from stone.  Piercing blue eyes searched
the screen, the gaze sweeping around the bridge.  Blond hair was pulled back
under the military-like cap, revealing even more of the sharp face.  This
wasn't what made Picard stop.  It was the look on the face.  The man was human,
at least that's what he appeared, and he looked around the bridge of the
Enterprise with undisguised wonder.  This was nothing new to Picard, but this
was not the expression one got from a human, most of whom had seen a Federation
starship.  This person, evidently, hadn't.
   "I am Admiral Jan Tyran, of the Empire.  I represent the Imperial Fleet in
your part of the galaxy.  You will surrender your vessel at once.
   "Or, quite simply, we shall blast you from space..."
   The screen closed down.
   "Shields up, Mister Worf," Riker called out.  Picard returned to his chair.
"You seem surprised, Captain."
   "I am, Number One.  But this isn't the time for it."
   The lead Star Destroyer pulled around in a tight curve, presenting its
starboard side.  The other two took up position just behind and under the
first.  Both turned to face away from one another, one preseting its
portside,the other, starboard.
   The lead Star Destroyer fired.
   The Enterprise rocked to one side.
   Picard's ears rang.  In the distance, he could hear Worf yelling that the
shot had cut right through the shields, and Data speaking calmly, informing
everyone that the enemy vessel's cloaks were down, and they were disgorging a
multitude of small attack fighters...