Topic: Story #4: Tribulation

[Governor Ronjar]

Hi all! Here to bug y'all some more. Figured I'd go ahead and post this now. Y'all can get to it after the holidays settle. I don't chirstmas or much of anything else, scrooge that I am, and have little more interesting to do at various times than write miscelleneous Trek stories.   Holler back if ya like.

Star Trek
   Tribulation
   CH. 1
   
   
   
   
   “Phasers locked, Keptin. Ready to fire.”

   Ford glanced up at the sound of Lieutenant Nechayev’s report. He looked, then, left to the engineering stations. Lieutenant Commander Tolin looked back at him, her dark eyes impassive.

   “You’re sure nothing else can be done for ‘em?”

   The chief engineer shook her shaggy, white-haired head.

   “Nothing, Captain. They’re totally wasted.”

   Captain Chevy Ford shrugged a little and looked back to the viewscreen and the targets floating helplessly before his starship. “Very well, then. You may fire when ready.”

   The enunciator sounded on the primary weapons console just a split second before a brilliant crimson beam of phased energy whipped out to spear the floating collection of damaged warp drive coils. The fractured crystalline material of the round devices superheated and began to glow under the assault. They then imploded, bursting inward upon themselves and hurtling tiny particulate mater in all directions against the backdrop of storm-filled space.

   Chevis hated destroying equipment, even if it was faulty. But he couldn’t really just leave it laying around, either. Anybody could happen across them and take them home. Even damaged warp coils could teach alien engineers things that the Federation might not wish them to find out. Now all that remained of them was an expanding cloud of particles.

   Satisfied that one more task had been completed, the captain turned his beaten command chair about to face the weapons console. Lieutenant Daniel Nechayev gazed back at him with light colored eyes. The man only ever seemed to stand up straight when at his station. Any other time one looked at him, he was slumping. Perhaps manning the guns was the only thing that made him happy…

   “Any contacts on long range scan, Lieutenant?”

   “Negative as yet, Keptin.”

   “Good. Keep a sharp eye out.” Ford tossed a look toward the science station. “Surall, you have the conn.”

   “Aye.” As the skipper stood, he winced at the sharp squeak that projected from his bullet-riddled chair. He looked upon his science officer with a beleaguered expression. He’d been sitting in that haggard thing for over a week now. Nearly every other station on the bridge, and indeed the rest of the ship, had been repaired of its post-Gorn damage. Surall stopped close by and pegged him with a puzzled expression.

   “Captain?”

   “If you can find a small team of maintenance personnel who are not otherwise pressed…have them fix my chair.”

   “Certainly, sir.”

   Ford headed for the after hatchway, shaking his head as he went. Before leaving the bridge, he paused and caught the comm officer’s attention. “Mister Smith, a word in my ready room please.”

   The round faced young lieutenant whipped his head about to face Ford so fast it might have snapped his neck. With an absent-minded nod, he fell into place behind the captain as a junior NCO took over his post. Both men were silent as they filed through the confines of the security office aft of the command compartment and entered the CO’s day cabin.

   Ford left the junior officer standing at attention before his polished oak desk as he went to the synthesizer station for refreshment. “Coffee, Mister Smith?”
   Noah looked to his skipper with a mixed expression. Ford wasn’t even looking his way. He just stood there with slumped shoulders before the drink panel. The captain was passed tired, juggling between overseeing repairs, the ship’s tactical situation and his afflicted friend down in sickbay. Chevis had even let his beard and head stubble go this morning.

   “Uh…aye, sir. Extra cream and sugar, sir.”

   “Like a lil’ coffee in your cream an’ sugar, eh?” Ford joked as he waited for the machine before him to complete its cycle. He turned around with two cups in hand to find the lad still sticking his chest out at attention. Chevy shook his head.

   “Oh, have a seat, dammit. I’ll let you know when I want you at attention.”

   Smith looked about himself in mild shock and then finally…relaxed. Taking the offered cup, he found a seat and settled into it. Ford reclined into his synthetic leather lounger and sighed openly. He seemed lost in his drink. Noah blew on the contents of his own and cautiously sipped it. The captain’s synthesizer was set to a very hot temp. He seemed to like everything in extremes.

   After a few moments of quiet reverie, which made Smith want to get this meeting over with before he said something stupid before his commanding officer, the captain seemed to take notice of him again. He sat forward a little bit in his chair and managed a tired grin.

   “Lieutenant, I just wanted to recognize your contribution last week with the comm probe modification you helped with. That idea took some innovation, and you’ve done very well for such a fresh officer.”

   Noah swallowed.

   “Thank you, Captain. But much of the innovation was Commander Davenport’s.”

   “Well…he’s been with me for a while. I expect miracles outta him every week. You out did yourself, though. I’ve made a notice of commendation in my log. That plus a Purple Heart on your first patrol will look pretty decent on your record.”

   Smith smiled broadly and nodded to his commander. He then looked thoughtful and glanced out the aft viewport. “Thank you, sir. I just wish all my work had been for a better cause.”

   “A better cause?” Now was the captain’s turn to look confused. After a moment, though, he had a clue what the boy meant.

   “Aye, Captain.” Smith clarified. “I mean, saving somebody worthwhile, I guess.”

   Ford was quiet for a moment, staring at the boy. Moments ago, he might have thought the same thing to himself, within the privacy of his own mind. But to hear that come from a fresh-faced lieutenant; the kind of kid that was supposed to be wet-behind-the-ears and starry eyed; it made him reflect on his own feelings on the subject.

The Gorn had opened fire on them during a humanitarian mission…saving that species own children… But knowing the Gorn would have reacted this way in advance, would this have influenced their decision to act? Should it have? How much risk or personal sacrifice was another life worth?

“Mister Smith…” Ford went slowly, his voice carefully attenuated to be calm. He didn’t want the kid to think he was bawling him out. “Every life, even that of a…so-called enemy, is worthwhile. Don’t let the Gorn’s actions cloud that knowledge for you. To forget that ideal is to forget what it is to be human.”

Smith eyed him back, the depth of his captain’s words sinking in. At first he was worried that he’d indeed said something to offend Ford. But after another spell of consideration, Smith just decided to take the advice for what it was. He finished his coffee at a gulp and set the cup on the smooth grain of the desktop. “Yes, sir.”

“Don’t let me take you from your duties any longer, Lieutenant.”

“Aye.” The boy stood with the archaic hand salute. Ford returned it, sitting though he was, and watched the young man leave. He feared his own anger toward the alien Gorn might have rubbed off on his crew. Some animosity, hell…a bunch of animosity, was understandable. But to let their anger taint their future actions would be a crime greater than what the Gorn skipper had committed.

Chevy stared at the closed blue door of his ready room, thinking on how he might have handled it all as a junior officer. How would the Gorn attack have maligned his view of the world? What kind of captain would he be now if it had happened back then? And what affect would it have on his judgements tomorrow?

Ford drew another sip from the hot, chocolate brew in his hand and mused over his ship’s situation for a time. He had loads of data work he needed to tend to. PADDs were piling up all over his desk. He also had his XO’s share, as Mister Thomas was now far too ill to even pretend to tend to them. Each module detailed a small part of their current situation.

Endeavour was far removed from her home territories. She had no backup, no main propulsion and no communication with home base. They were in a dangerous area of space, filled with gravity flux and plasma phenomena. Their only hope of resolving any of these issues was to transplant half of the warp coils remaining in the port engine nacelle to the damaged starboard pod and thereby, restoring warp drive.

Endeavour currently rode a close orbit above a Class D planetoid in a barely stable starsystem, having been towed there by their former adversary, Captain Dath’mar. His men had been in the process of undergoing the ‘coil swap’ for some five days now. Chief engineer Tolin estimated another two before they could test warp propulsion.
It was hard not to hate the Gorn for their present predicament. But the entire Gorn race hadn’t conspired to bring this about. Only a single captain’s volatility had done it. And the tiny beings within those eggshells surely hadn’t been to blame. Allowing his anger to influence him would lead only to corruption, he decided.

At length, his mindless reverie now put aside, Ford reached to the data PADD atop the tallest mound and keyed it on. He was just about to bend his mind to the dealings of the fuel consumption rate of a Mark Seven engine when an emergency alarm filled his cabin with noise.

“Medical emergency, Code Blue! Doctor Keller to sickbay, stat!”
***

Well, there's ya a start. See y'all in a few weeks.

--thu guv!

[Grim Reaper]

Ow! Nasty! That a good solid if somewhat slow character piece with a huge cliffhanger!

[Governor Ronjar]

Slow! Arg!

Mostly I wanted Ford to seem tired, like his mind was starting to wander. But thank you for the complement!

Has anyone else been having trouble getting FanFic to load? Takes me forever...

--thu guv!

[Commander La'ra]

Been working fine up here, except that it's been timing out a lot lately.

And yes, I read it. I'll comment after I get back this weekend.

[Governor Ronjar]

Been working fine up here, except that it's been timing out a lot lately.

And yes, I read it. I'll comment after I get back this weekend.

Yup...
...expectin' that comment ANY day now...

Thankfully, I'm not making the rest of the world wait on you...


CH. 2




Ford passed between the opening sickbay doors at a run, only slowing enough to get through. The far corner of the intensive care ward was crowded with medical staff. Each of them was encircled about his executive officer’s bed; each was helping to save his friend’s life. Ford staggered to a halt, his booted feet catching clumsily on the carpeted deck.

He could go no farther. His presence would only hinder his people as they did their duty. And he could not bear to see a friend die. Not again. He stood, staring, mouth agape as another nurse charged by him with a heavy bag of surgical equipment. Ford remained still, listening.

“Set cortical stimulator for two-twenty!” That was Keller’s voice. The small woman could hardly be seen amid the much taller members of her staff.

“Stimulator set.”

“Clear!”

A shot of neural energy echoed through the medbay.

“Still flatl-ine. No cortical reaction. Slight attenuation of the hypocampus.”

“Again! Clear!”

That sound again. It made Ford’s gut lurch. Ben’s feet jerked spasmodically from the burst.

“Still nothing, Doctor!” Nurse Tyler reported. Her voice was filled with concern and fear. It was nothing compared to the churning in the captain. He fought to remain still.

“Reset to three hundred! Clear!”

And then, again, there came that sound: The electric snap of high voltage neural energy being applied to Thomas’s frontal lobe. The commander practically jumped up from the table. An arm fell from the upper surface to hang limply beside it.

“Still no appreciable reaction, Doctor!”

“We’re losing him!”

Ford felt his heart and mind settle into an unnatural sort of detachment. He could feel the change happening within him. He mentally commented on it, challenged it as though it were not a part of himself. But it presided over his consciousness, accepted or not. It was almost as though the outcome of what went on before him would not affect him. He couldn’t summon up the correct level of pain anymore. Why was he feeling this way?

The drama continued to unfold before him, and he watched as though it were a holodrama. It all felt so…unreal… Was it really even happening?

“Set cortical stimulator to maximum.” Keller seemed suddenly calm now, herself. She stood a fair distance back from Thomas, looking down at the big man’s face. “Clear!”

The burst was louder now, louder than Ford had ever heard it. The sound made him jump, despite his undead malaise. Ben sat straight up on the table amid all of the medtechs and looked around. Ford’s eyes opened as wide as they possibly could. Ben’s met them. Pain and confusion clouded the XO’s expression. With a mighty fist, he backhanded the nearest nurse, sending her reeling to the floor.

The remaining medical staff grabbed the mountain’s arms and began to shove him forcefully to the bed. Thomas struggled against them, growling some inhuman oaths in slurred speech as he pushed at them. Ford rushed over there, then, stepping over the fallen nurse and helping Keller to hold the XO’s shoulders down.

“Sedative!” Keller was almost screaming. Ben was actually lifting himself from the table now. Ford absently wondered if a sedative was such a good idea from a medical standpoint, but never got to voice his musing. Nurse Tyler, the one Thomas had smacked, jabbed her hypo deep into Ben’s neck.

As Thomas sagged back to the comfortable confines of the biobed, Ford stepped back and away. Keller stepped close to the bio-monitor and read off what she saw there.

“He’s stabilizing.” She said.

“What the hell caused that, Doctor?” The blasé was fading from Chevis now. Business was taking the fore front of his mind. Thomas’s rapid decline and violent outburst had stunned the captain. He found himself breathing hard despite the little he’d done to assist.

“The bacterial infection has taken hold in the cerebral cortex. Material from the infected mass is interfering with neural activity, and threw him into what looked like cardiac arrest. He’s alright for the immediate future, but I’m going to have to remove the diseased mass surgically.”

Ford caught the inflection in her last words. He looked sternly into the redhead’s blue eyes.

“And that’s really not going to help in the long run.”

Keller looked back at him fully for the first time, taken slightly aback. She, too, had been frightened by Thomas’s turn. Behind her, Nurse Tyler was being taken care of by the junior techs.

“No. It will only allay the present symptom. And it may not solve that problem for any length of time, as the healing material of the cortex will be even more prone to infection.”

Ford was no doctor, but what he was hearing at least made sense. His jaw jutted in frustration.

“And none of your treatments have made a dent in this infection?”

“No, sir.” Andrea replied. She sagged tiredly back onto the bed behind her. She had been working as tirelessly as he had been. “I’ve tried every known and available serum meant for bacterial disease. I’m now trying to adapt non-related treatments to the current situation.”

“He’s running out of time.” Ford didn’t say it as a question. By now, it was a statement, an observation that needed little evidence.

“Yes, sir. He is. And even if we were to make way now for Starbase, Number One would not live to see their medical ward. I must emplace him in the suspended animation unit.”

The suspended animation chamber required an enormous amount of power, and its long-term benefits were minimal. Often it caused as much damage to living tissue as it prevented if used for too long a period. But his friend had little choice left to him. Ford glanced back to the swollen, red fleshed man and his bruise encircled eyes. A brief ache filled his stomach and he looked away.

“Whatever you have to do. I’ll authorize it. But don’t abandon your research. We’re bound to be stuck in this soup for a might longer…”

Andrea shook her head in professional defiance.

“I certainly shan’t, Captain. In fact, I was about to request a member of your bridge staff to assist me.”

“Anybody you need.”

“Lieutenant Surall. She is a remarkable physicist, and I’m planning to expand my research into radiation treatment.” The doctor’s eyes were searching, studying her captain for any hint of surprise or resistance. Ford had to admit he was a bit of the former.

“You’re going to treat it like a cancer?”

“My simulations have indicated that this strain of bacteria may be susceptible to various radiations. I intend to pursue whatever may lead to a cure.”

Ford was quiet for a moment. He looked back to Mister Thomas. It took only one more look to convince him. “Do whatever you have to, Doctor. I’ll head to the bridge and order engineering to fire up the SA chamber systems.”

The British doctor tilted her head and nodded graciously as Ford turned and left. She watched the slumping skipper go, feeling her own tiredness all too acutely. With a final glance over at the Number One, laying in a heap on the biobed, Keller stood and headed for the starboard intercom panel.

“Doctor Keller to bridge. Lieutenant Surall?”

“Yes, Doctor.” There was inquiry in the Vulcan’s demure voice. The two of them had barely shared ‘hello’s since their boarding the ship a month ago.

“Might I have a word with you in my office. I have a task for which you are imminently suited.”

There was only a second’s worth of pause from the other end of the comm circuit.

“On my way, Doctor.”
***





Captain Ford killed the comm link to engineering and settled into a tired mass into his cabin chair. His quarters were nearly dark, with only the intercom lighting and the standby indicators on the main computer terminal providing illumination. Chevy’s dog, Chinasing, stood on his bunk a few feet distant, patiently awaiting his attendance. Ford spared the Pekinese a soft pat on the head, and returned to his desk. There, he uncorked a long-necked bottle of rum and poured it over a waiting glass of ice cubes. The frozen cubes at the bottom of the snifter began to pop and crack with the sudden temperature change.

Briefly, Ford considered weakening his chosen poison with some cola. He decided against it. He wanted the full effect. Sadly, he was unable to enjoy it.

“Yellow Alert, Captain to the bridge!”  Cried Davenport’s voice from the intercom.

For a second, Ford’s concern for the cause of the alert was overridden by his wonderment at Davenport making the call in the first place. When he’d left the bridge, he’d left Lieutenant Nechayev at the conn. Davenport hadn’t been on duty. The captain looked at the antique chronometer hanging on his port bulkhead. It was 1800 hours. He’d lost track of time entirely. By now, Ron would have come on shift, and the tactical officer would have resumed his station. The captain should have been on the bridge by now, following his usual pattern.

His left hand fell to the intercom.

“Bridge, Captain. What you got, Ron?”

“Sir, tactical has picked up a vessel with a very minute sensor profile. She’s incoming at low warp velocity and appears to be making maneuvers to remain unseen.” The voice from the speaker said back.

Ford considered the probabilities. He had a pretty good idea who this might turn out to be.

“Maintain Yellow Alert and order the helm to accelerate our orbit around the planetoid. I’m on my way.” Ford laid his drink back on the desktop and turned for the hatch, snapping up the open front of his maroon duty jacket. A frustrated groan came from the direction of his bunk, compelling him to look back.

“Don’t you give me that.” He chided the agitated, love-deprived old Pekinese. The small dog tilted his almond and ash colored head to ponder his owner’s words. “You signed on for this gig. Don’t complain to me about it now.”

China huffed a complaint at him as he attempted again to move for the door.

“No, you can’t come to the bridge.”

Ford’s companion half-groaned, half-growled another comment. He bounded up onto his hind legs to amplify his statement. Ford leaned in and gave him a nuzzle. “Sorry, buddy. Duty calls. I’ll be back later. The yeoman will be in soon to take you to the arboretum for a walk.”

Giving his faithful critter another affectionate pat, Ford exited his cabin and joined the throng of crew passing through the corridor, headed for their posts.

[Governor Ronjar]

CH. 2.5


“Report.”

Lieutenant Commander Davenport looked at his skipper as he exited the portside lift. Ford walked briskly over to join both the Chief of Operations and the weapons officer in the tactical section of the bridge.

“Definitely one ship, confirmed as one of the Ya’wenn combat ships we encountered at Kovarn.” Ron told Chevis. Ford halted and was quiet for a moment, looking over the monitors spread out before them. The look adorning his ruddy face seemed to suggest that he was not surprised by the Ya’wenn’s appearance.

“Jarn’s people tracked us down.” He commented, glancing up at Davenport.

“Seems so, Cap’n. Maybe that last ship we detected before entering the plasma storm did actually scan us.” That occurrence was well over a week behind them, two days before their run-in with the Gorn. But it had been the last time they’d seen a trace of the aliens. Perhaps they’d scanned Endeavour the very day she’d entered the plasma field. Just knowing where the ship had gone would go a long way toward tracking them here.

“Doesn’t much matter. They’re here now and taking great pains to go undetected.”

Lieutenant Nechayev tapped the monitor depicting the incoming vessel’s profile and energy emissions. “They’re a wery noisy ship at varp speed, Keptin. They cannot know the extent of our sensor enwelope or they vould have slowed to impulse long ago to awoid detection. At sublight, they might have gotten into veapon’s range.”

Davenport noted the slight twitch of a smile in his captain as they both listened to their Russian security chief’s accent. Few could detect the skipper’s grin when he aimed to hide it. Ron had only learned to see it a few years back. Nechayev likely had know idea the he was providing entertainment.

“I don’t think this guy’s here to throw any shots at us.” The captain began. “I think this feller is part of a larger party. He’s just slipping in here to see what condition we’re in so he can report back to base. So we’ll give him a show. Keep a close, passive eye on him…and cut shields.”

“Sir?” Daniel Nechayev did not like the sound of that order. “Vith out our shields—“

“You can bring ‘em back up if he enters Ya’wenn weapons range. Till then, keep them down.” Ford paused as he watched the tactical chief begrudgingly lower the deflectors. “I don’t think he’ll get into shooting distance, and I want to look as though we haven’t seen him. What’s the status of the repair team out on the nacelle?”

Ronald glanced over engineering’s way, even though he knew their progress by heart.

“Chief Tolin is leading Beta Party right now, with four Workbees and one Type J shuttle. Coil number seventeen is being fitted into the starboard nacelle’s number eight cradle. After that, it’s just three more coils to go.”

After that, though, they would still have to reattach the outer hull bracings, the exterior casing and the EPS power leads to the structural integrity grid. All in all, they liked another two days of round the clock work. The captain knew about how long all of this would take and Ron didn’t bother adding his estimate. Ford seemed to mull everything over.

Endeavour was quite vulnerable out in the open as she was. The inner workings of her nacelles were exposed to space and a good-sized repair team floated alongside with no protection at all. Only her shields would keep enemy blasts from ruining their chances of getting home, and Ford was gambling on leaving them down. But he was also gambling that more ships would soon be on their way to deal out some revenge for stealing back their money and causing some appreciable damage before leaving Kovarn. The more in the dark the Ya’wenn were about Endeavour’s preparedness, the better.

“Like I said, we’ll keep our shields down. Helm,” Ford inclined his face to see the dark haired Bronstien at the forward console, “reduce to standard orbital speed.”

“Aye, Cap.”

Ford laid a reassuring hand on the blonde security chief’s arm. “Keep a close eye on ‘em, weps. If they twitch, bring up the shields and we’ll give ‘em a whippin’ they won’t ever forget.”

“Yes, Keptin.”

Ronald left Nechayev chewing nails at tactical and paced the captain as he headed for the conn. Davenport continued on to his own post as the skipper took his seat and relieved the junior ops man there. Ford made a puzzled, but satisfied sound, causing Davenport to turn around after he seated himself at operations. Chevy was trying to rock his freshly installed captain’s seat front and backwards, looking it over. Ron grinned.

“So… Is this my same old chair?” The captain asked.

“No, sir.” Davenport answered, not giving any extra detail. Would Ford guess where it’d come from? “Freshly installed.”

“Freshly synthesized?”

“Nope.”

Ford glanced up at him.

“I know we didn’t have one of these in spare parts…”

“No, sir.”

“Then where’d it come from, Mister Davenport?”

“Miss Surall found it in Auxiliary Control. She surmised that no one used it when manning that section, and it was only there for the commanding officer in the event of catastrophic bridge damage… In which case she says the CO can just stand till we get another replacement.”

Impressed, Chevis pursed his lips in a comical expression and nodded with pleasure.

“I never noticed the Aux. Con chair was just like the bridge model… Remind me to give the Lieutenant a raise.”

“Aye, Cap.”





Lieutenant Nechayev listened to the CO and Ops Chief’s idle banter with dismayed disbelief. The two of them acted as though there was not an armed warship closing in on them at warp velocities. Daniel could understand a restrained amount of comradeship, but how the captain and the senior officers carried on was unbelievable at times.
Daniel forced himself not to dwell on the matter. After all, the two of them had proven their skill several times since his coming on board. He focussed his attention on the closing contact and tried to allay his growing apprehension.

The Ya’wenn space vessel showed no sign of having discerned any of Endeavour’s earlier actions. Or they’d not given it much thought. He wondered vaguely if the alien’s sensors could even detect Federation shielding at that distance. They reacted as though their sensors were of poor resolution in addition to being short ranged. There were no indications that the incoming ship had activated either its shields or its weapons.

Daniel turned to the two senior techs that manned the after facing tac sensors console. Both men were evaluating the Ya’wenn ship’s sensor details and engine emissions. Their drive showed signs of low power strain. They would not be able to maintain their stealth profile for much longer. After who knew how many hours of low current feed, the aliens’ warp coils would begin to overheat. Likely they had already begun to build deposits of carbon within their plasma guides. These people were not a professional group. He wondered if they had been through any sort of organized service training. With the signs he’d observed, he doubted it.

Finally, after three or four minutes of bird-dogging, there came an aspect change in the target. He turned to face the tired CO. “Keptin, wessel is slowing. They have reduced to impulse power.”

“Still incoming?”

“Aye, but they have altered course to a less direct route. They have begun, also, to power down many unnecessary systems.”

“Time to weapons range?”

“Two minutes at their current welocity.”

“Now on visual.” Davenport reported from operations. The alien ship centered on the viewer against a backdrop of roiling plasma clouds. She was one of the more angular Ya’wenn craft, with a sharp nose cone and a wide fantail. Nechayev could count the particle cannon without the need of sensors.

Ford stood again, rising from the new conn and circling back around to the weapons console.

“Estimate on vessel’s tactical proficiency?”

“Seven EM pulse guided particle cannon vith a large coverage gap in her aft ventral arc. Two launchers for impulse powered nuclear veapons. In a stand-up fight, she’s no match for us.”

The weapons officer watched the captain for obvious reactions to his report. He could not read this man. The short, round-bodied man could be a stoic as Russian heroes of old. His face betrayed little he did not want conveyed. This was one of the things he actually liked about Chevis Ford.

At last, Ford nodded and turned back to watch the slowly enlarging warship slowly grow in stature. Daniel continued to count the range to target, growing more alarmed at it came closer to weapons range.

“Now at two million, five hundred thousand kilometers, Keptin.”

“This apparently, was close enough for the captain.

“Alright, we’ve given them enough false misinformation on our sensor resolution. Bring the shields up and run an active scan over them.”

Lieutenant Nechayev was so very glad to hear those orders. Waving a gesture to his sensor techs, the tactical officer re-raised the deflectors. “Shields up, Keptin. Target continues to close on us at low impulse.”

“Scanning now,” Came a voice from behind Daniel.

Nechayev watched the sensor graphics suddenly begin to wheel through a series of changes just after the active scan wave passed over them. “Target has noticed our scan. They are slowing to minimum speed… I read tactical systems powering up.”

Ford nodded again, moving, then, back to the conn.

“Hail them, Comm.”

The young Mister Smith’s voice called back from near the port bulkhead. “You’re on, Captain.”

“Ya’wenn vessel,” The skipper began, his voice loud and full of assumed authority. “Halt your approach on our ship or you will be fired upon.”

“Keptin,” Daniel watched as the indicators beside the flashing red blip on his screens began to rise. “They are powering their varp drive engines. They are disengaging at varp factor three.”

“I didn’t think they’d frighten so easily.” Davenport commented.

Ford shrugged.

“I think they were originally here to scout for us. When we looked defenseless, he decided to cruise in for a sucker shot below the belt. I figured he’d have been smarter than that. At least he has a false idea about our sensor capabilities.”

Nechayev nodded along with the rest of the agreeing officers. The captain’s ploy might prove to be a useful one if the time comes. Bobbing along without shields in place before an armed ship, however, made him nervous. He hoped no other demonstrations would be necessary.

“Maintain Condition Two till we’re sure we’re alone out here.” Ford arose from his seat and made for the ready room. “Ron, you have the conn.”

***


Well, there's y'all a bit more. I have to admit that the medical scene was nothing more than a cobbled together compilation of what I've heard on previous Trek episodes and some stray terms I heard watching ER with my mother. Knew all those long ER marathons on USA would pay off... If it didn't come off convincingly, well...I'm no doctor, and certainly not one from 300 years in the future.

Hope it was enjoyed!
-thu guv!

[Scottish Andy]

Yup, that was enjoyable Guv. I actually thought you might have been killing off #1 in the first scene, especially with Ford disassociating like that. Kept me guessing until #1 actually hit the nurse. The medical jargon of the scene was well done. I'm no doctor either, but no obvious "that doesn't sound right" flags went up for me, so you can check that one off your worry list.

I was wondering about keeping the shields down until you revealed the lower sensor range of the Ya'wenn ship. I thought that keeping the shields down would allow them a good scan of your current condition whereas having the shields up would deny them any data. But that was competently explained, and I realised my own preconceptions there.

Nice segment. Keep them coming. I, at least, am stll reading.

[Commander La'ra]

Very good.  The whole story is moving along nicely, but hasn't developed enough for me to comment on 'as a whole' yet.  That said, I like the pace, and the sudden shifts between different kinds of action...there's a tension in the air that makes me think something is about to happen, and I like that.

Scene wise, I really like both the medical bay scene and the Endeavour's reaction to the Ya'wenn's approach.

The technobabble (medbabble?) in the treatment scene wasn't overdone, and did, in fact, sound like a slightly Trekked-up version of an ER sequence.  Thomas smacking the nurse was one of those great little realistic touches....believable reaction to what must've been immense pain.  I also like that the nurse got right back up and did her job, displaying that 'medical fanaticism' we've all seen but that usually doesn't show up on Trek.

Best part was, though, that you make the threat to Thomas' life seem real.  In some 'sickness' scenarios presented in Sci-Fi and Trek in particular, it never REALLY seems like the disease they're dealing with would challenge their extreme levels of medical science.  That's not the case in this one...the doctor's explanation of what's going on makes the seriousness of Ben's condition more real.  I also like the Doctor's clear frustration and annoyance at only being able to stave off, rather than fix, the problem.

I've got less to say about the Ya'Wenn's approach.  Ford proves to be sneaky and deceptive.  You know I like sneaky and deceptive, so you probably guessed that I liked that scene.

[Governor Ronjar]

Hot Damn!

Them were some good replies!

Thank you both. I honestly thought I wasa out of my element writing with the medical stuff, so I tried my best, but didn't expect much. La'ra's comment was much more than I figured it'd ever get, and probably the longest comment he's given anything I've written in a WHILE (pretaining, that is, to the story presented...). It must've been better done than I believed. I honestly was JUST hoping y'all wouldn't hate it.

That makes me happy as heck!
Y'all get more story!







CH. 3




Chief engineer Tolin halted in her booted tracks on the curvature of the outer hull of the portside warp nacelle and answered the beeping comm signal at her chest panel. “Yes, Captain,” Her whisper-ish voice responded.

“Status?”

“We’re fitting the next to the last coil now, Captain. Coil alignment will take some time, but the final coil should be installed by this time tomorrow.”

Above her slim, white EVA suit, a team of thruster suited engineers, flanked by two workbee repair pods, escorted coil number eighteen into its new position within the nacelle. The nacelle itself was open to space. Its armored cowl had been removed for the swapping operation and the entire inner structural framework and internal components were vulnerable to whatever may come their way. The engineer had been informed of the possibility that a Ya’wenn warship was about to come in and trade fire with them. She’d been more than relieved when the bridge officers had updated the situation and told of the scout’s withdrawal.

The captain’s calling so soon after the incident told that the scout’s visit had changed some things.

“I need you to accelerate coil installation and get the nacelle cowling back into place. We’re gonna have more company within the next twenty-four hours.”

Tolin’s balled fists found their way to her waist even though there was no one about to hurl her angry scowl at. Crammed within the bowl-like confines of her EV helmet, her antennae cramped as they tried to coil in response. “Captain! The coils must be aligned! Trying to align them after the structural stem-bolts are in place will take forever. There’s no freedom of movement!”

“I’ve got to make sure this vessel can out maneuver multiple Ya’wenn warships, Commander. She has to be in one piece with all her parts covered. I can’t even shield the open warp nacelle without that cowling replaced. Get it done, Engineer.”

There was no vehemence in Ford’s voice such as there had been before when disagreeing with her. In fact, her sensitive hearing almost made her sure he’d been smiling when he’d spoken. He was enjoying aggravating her. And she’d risen to the bait.

“Very well, Captain. I’ll order all structural members set in place immediately and get the final coil settled within the next two hours. The cowling will take another seven hours to reattach.” She privately vowed never to be such an easy target for him again.

“Carry on, Commander. Ford out.”

Clumping her way up the long expanse of duranium alloy to her working team, she keyed for their local work frequency. “Tolin to Alpha Repair Team.”

Her eye caught the motion of each of her suited men halting in mid-activity to turn their helmets her way. Even the workbees descending with the waiting coil fired their station-keeping boosters to stop what they were doing. One suited man, Hershey, judging by his size and the phasic scanner head in his hands, reached up to key his own communications.

“’Sup, Boss?”

“Captain’s ordered us to install the final two coils now and get the armor back up.”

Hershey’s helmet and shoulders tilted in confusion.

“He knows how long it’ll take to—“

“Captain says we have hostiles inbound within twenty-four hours. He’s getting us ready for combat. Our job is to get this nacelle ready for that action.” Tolin gave them a stern look even though probably none of them could notice it. “You have your orders. Carry them out.”






“Theleron radiation!” Doctor Keller’s jaw sagged open at the Vulcan scientist’s suggestion. Her English accent echoed slightly within the chambers mostly empty confines. Surall, for all of her audacity, merely stood there without preamble, watching the doctor intently. The two were alone. “Are you joking?”

“Vulcan humor is hard to master, but rest assured, Doctor, I am serious.”

“Theleron radiation is deadly to all manner of life!”

“Including the bacteria. The simulations have proven this.”

Keller paced around the length of the laboratory’s main table. Computers and holo-simulators lined the entirety of the workspace, along with all manner of chemicals and test modules. She looked back to the dark skinned woman, incredulous. “It will kill the Exec. Even in the smallest dosage…the particles would poison every living cell they encountered as they traveled through the blood stream.”

Surall nodded, having come to the same conclusion and thought past it.

“Yes it would. However…Commander Thomas’s blood is not currently circulating. He is in stasis.”

Andrea stopped in her tracks. That thought hadn’t occurred to her. She’d assumed that any treatment rendered would be done outside the stasis barrier. If they could alter the chamber for surgery…

She shook her head.

“The radiation would still destroy every bit of living tissue in the infected areas. And Thomas’s blood is saturated with the bacteria.”

“Then we remove the blood from Mister Thomas’s circulatory system and transfuse him after the procedure. Precise targeting will reduce the danger to living tissue. Lieutenant Nechayev is an expert designer in targeting systems. I’m sure he can assist.”

“There’ll be residual radiation within the body…”

Surall approached the red haired doctor and tilted her head as she studied her.

“I did not say that this method was without risk. I am stating that it is likely Commander Thomas’s best hope for survival.”

Andrea stepped over to a seat by the aft bulkhead and eased into it. The prospects for killing Ben in this procedure were staggering. But if done correctly with absolutely no mistakes… She looked back at the science officer dubiously. “Theleron radiation can only be created within laboratories.”

“My department has been studying the affects of Theleron radiation on solar bodies for two weeks. Our prototype emitter is in its final stages of planning. Were this not a viable possibility, I would not have suggested it.”








Captain Ford snorted in mid-snore at the sound of his intercom. He roused from the ready room couch and sat upright, calling out to the ceiling mounted comm receiver. “Ford here.”

“Doctor Keller, sir.” Responded the English accent. “Am I disturbing you from rest, Captain?”

Chevy had crept into his office just over an hour earlier, after having told the bridge officers that he was going to slip in some shut eye. He had been close to shutting down. He knew the crew understood. But he still felt as though he was cheating them.

“No, Doc. Go ahead.”

“I believe Lieutenant Surall and I have discovered a viable treatment option for the Number One.”

Chevis roused to full wakefulness.

“Go on, Doctor.”

“It will involve the use of carefully controlled doses of a lethal form of radiation. I am patching your terminal the info right now.”

With a grunt brought on by his fifty-six years of age, Ford arose and stepped around his desk. At the tap of a key, he called up the details of the treatment and read over what was involved. He was silent for some time.

“Do you concur with our findings, sir?” Asked the doctor when she decided enough time had passed. Ford slumped into his seat, feeling the leather stretch beneath his weight. He felt just about as stretched as the synthetic hide. He would push for some major shoreleave when Endeavour got home.

“Theleron radiation was developed in weapons research, Doc.”

“Yes, sir. But I fully agree with the Lieutenant that it may be our only hope of destroying this virus in time.” There was a plea in the surgeon’s voice. Ford shook his bald head and rubbed the bridge of his nose. This was not an easy choice. But given the capability of this disease to strip away Ben Thomas’s health and totally incapacitate him, it had to be made. He could still hold Thomas in stasis till reaching Starbase. But there was definitely a battle coming up in their near future. The stasis unit or the ship’s engine could quite easily be damaged in this conflict. Should either happen, then Thomas was dead.

“Doctor, you’re the one in charge of treatment. If this is what you came up with, and you believe in your capacity to render results without killing Mister Thomas…then by all means, do it.”

“There is also the ethical question of undergoing this procedure without the Commander’s direct consent…”

Ford found himself smiling.

“Trust me, Keller. If given the choice between agonizing death by disease or a quick death from a lethal radiation, Ben would choose the second choice.”

“Very well, then Captain. I’ll require the participation of Mister Nechayev, engineering and the fabrication departments.”

“You’ll have it, Doctor. Ford out.”
***



Hope this was as enjoyable as the last was!
--thu guv!

[Governor Ronjar]

I have a question for everyone.

Since y'all don't seem to come to this sight to reply or post so often, and seem to hit it real good 'bout once a month, would it be more efficient for y'all if I posted the entire story rather than a chapter at a time?

 At the current rate, it'll be 20 years before I get everything I plan posted. (Yes, I did the math...No sh*t, 20 years two months...Longer if I plan even more stories.)

I'm writing them much faster than I can post at this rate. I've finshed the 9th story in what I consider Endeavour's 1st season. But I am only getting started on posting #4... By the time I've finished posting this one, I'll likely be up to story 13 or 14 if I keep it up...

Let me know, folks!

--thu guv!

[Scottish Andy]

If you have that much to post, I'd be quite happy to see a full story every two weeks or so, Guv. Give me time to sit down and read it all through.

I have tons of stories too, but they're all still in my head, and I can't seem to stick out writing them any more. *sigh* I wish I had your problem...

[Governor Ronjar]

*sigh* I wish I had your problem...

It is...unique, is it not?

90% of my writing is done on laptop while on lunch at work. I've actually got my cowrokers to the point that when they see the laptop come out, they get quiet. Tho, I do pacify them with music from my mp3 collection... Might have something to do with it...the muzak they play over the PA there is crap.

If there are a few more votes soon, I may post the remainder of this story all in one whack. Then I can post more or less as past as I finish them, which averages at 1 per month.

More feed back on question, y'all...

--thu guv!

[Commander La'ra]

Post the whole damn thing at a time.  For one thing, your stories run at a more constant flow than some other folks (especially mine, which I usually write with serialization in mind).

For another, it's a lot easier to critique a story than a scene.

Let us have it.

[Governor Ronjar]

Alrighty, y'all. Might have only heard from 2 folks, but, what the hell. Here it comes...

...now, Mr. Spock (STII:TWOK)



CH. 4




Captain’s Log, Stardate: 9704.6

Twelve hours have passed since our last contact with the Ya’wenn scout vessel. Our nacelles have been secured and are ready for combat. Coil realignment commences with Miss Tolin reporting that we’ll have warp drive within thirty hours. I expect more enemy starships before that time.

Doctor Keller and Lieutenant Surall have begun their treatment of my XO. I’m staying the hell away from the medical ward. It was on my decision for him to undergo the radical treatment. If he dies…it’s on my head. I may have consigned one of my best officers and closest friends to death… But I still think it was the only way. Only time can tell…



“Captain to the bridge!”

Chevis was on his feet and out of his office in an instant. He passed through the doors onto the bridge and made for his chair with practiced quickness. Those few hours of sleep he’d stolen had done wonders. “What we got?”

“Multiple inbound contacts, Keptin.” Reported the weapons officer. Lieutenant Nechayev looked ready to head out the nearest airlock and face the new comers himself. “Four confirmed Ya’wenn varships, three light and one heavy.”

“ETA?”

“Twenty-three minutes at their present speed of varp four.”

Ford nodded to himself and looked down at the pop-out tactical screen on the right arm of his chair. He’d expected even more ships than this, but he’d take the blessings he’d been given. “We’re sure these are the only ones?”

“No other contacts on long-range sensors, Captain.” Came from the science console. Ford glanced over to nod back at the ensign taking Surall’s place. He was only familiar with the boy’s face, recognizing him from the late night duty shift. If Surall had left him in charge in her absence, then his skill was not in question.  “Understood. Helm, break orbit. Come right to 035 mark 327 and engage at maximum impulse power.”

“Lieutenant Bronstien and Commander Davenport both plied odd looks upon their CO at the sound of the order. The helmsman simply shrugged, however, and replied. “Breaking orbit, make my course 035 mark 327, aye, aye, sir.”

As the planetoid pictured in the center screen peeled away and left only the swirling vision of tortured plasma beyond, the chief of ops made known his unspoken concern. “Cap’n, this course takes us inside the system core. This starsystem is tightly packed to begin with, with stellar debris littering every arc of our scanners.”

“Good,” Chevis replied with an assured nod. “The more the merrier.” The captain tapped the intercom control on his left armrest triggering the ship-wide intercom. Officers and crew alike straightened at the sound of the boson’s whistle.

“Attention all hands, this is the captain. We are presently being approached by four Ya’wenn warships. Our warpdrive remains off line, though theirs is unimpeded. I am therefor taking Endeavour into the system core to negate the enemy’s warp speed advantage. Prepare all stations for erratic maneuvers. Maintain Yellow Alert.”

Ford killed the comm system and gave everyone a quick glance.

“That answer everyone’s questions?”

Ronald smiled back and continued to monitor the operations panel. There were a few nods from the remaining bridge personnel. Ford smiled grimly and rose from the conn. Rounding the tactical console, he stood beside Nechayev to confer. “Threat assessment?”

The Russian soldier placed a finger atop the largest of the closing alien vessels. Where the other three starships were narrow and angular in configuration, this ship was wide and blocky in design. This ship was not built for speed and maneuverability, but brute force and firepower. The tactical sensors pinpointed more than ten energy weapon emplacements and at least eight missile launchers. The later did not worry Ford so much. Modern weapons technology had rendered the standard missile device obsolete. They were sub-warp weapons with limited maneuverability, making them ripe targets for a short phaser burst.

“This wessel…” Nechayev was saying about the warship, “Is the primary threat, Keptin. Her shields are stronger and she has three times the reactor power for her veaponry. Her veapons array is much more impressive than its escorts. I vould vorry about taking this one out first if possible.”

Chevy nodded as he considered his tac officer’s opinion. “You think this is the command ship?”

“It is a safe bet, Keptin. She is the best suited to the role.”

“Any chance they know we’re scanning them?”

“At this distance, it likely looks like intense background radiation. Their sensor array is definitely not wery sophisticated. Nor do they have our previous location vithin range. They have yet to change course.”

Ford chuckled. His earlier ploy seemed to have paid off. The Ya’wenn had a poor idea of Endeavour’s scanning capacity and were behaving accordingly. Even Endeavour’s absence from orbit would tell them nothing, given that their previous scout had been spotted. This misinformation could prove beneficial far into the future.
The captain began to formulate his battle plan, taking the suspected command ship’s prowess into account. Likely the escorting vessels would be placed between Endeavour and the larger craft to soak some incoming fire. If the man in command of the attackers were whom Ford suspected, the commander would not be a brave man till provoked to rashness. That fact might prove difficult to work into his combat strategy, but not impossible.

“Show me the combat recordings of the escort ships we fought over Kovarn.” Chevis said to his weapons officer. Daniel brought up the flight data recorder and found the requested information. Nechayev had been reviewing the recording also.

Ford watched the energy measurements of each of the ships that Endeavour had struck with her combined weaponry. Each of the Ya’wenn targeted retreated in turn when their shielding had been breached. He wondered if this was a standard tactic to the aliens. It was nothing to count on, however. And if it were a standard procedure, then it could spell out a very long battle. Ford did not set strategies for long battles. Not unless he was forced into one.

“This is a winnable fight, Lieutenant…” Ford commented aloud. “Let’s do a few simulations and go over the weak points of their ships. Link with the ops console so Ron can assist.”

“Yes, Keptin.”
***




Lieutenant Surall glanced over her raised data PADD to watch as Doctor Keller initiated the radiation sequence over Mister Thomas’s inert form. They were just beginning their treatment of the XO’s condition. The news of the imminent battle disturbed her. Should power fluctuate to this deck at any time during the fight, it could have tremendous adverse effects of Ben’s treatment and chances of survival. Should the targeting apparatus designed by Lieutenant Nechayev and built by Chief Engineer Tolin bobble or lose focus, then the exec was dead. The form of radiation they were utilizing here today was the most destructive ever experimented on when subjected to living material. It literally caused living cells to disassociate and decay within moments.

It was exactly this aspect which they were hoping to capitolize upon in this experiment, by targeting a very thin stream of radiated energy at the infected areas of tissue they hoped that this pattern of disassociation would irradicate the bacterium. Given the variables, Surall had calculated their chances of success in this procedure at near to 57.37196 %. However, given the fact that much of the operation may now be performed during the tumult of space combat, those chances had sunk to an abysmal 32.13 %.

“I’m targeting the second of the infectious masses…” Keller called out as she manipulated the bulky Theleron projector to a different point above Thomas’s chest. The targeting profiles being used were quite involved. One must target the infection, destroy it, and not destroy any necessary intervening tissue in the process. As it was, Thomas would require hours of reconstructive surgery to correct the unavoidable damage caused by the procedure. They had already made a multitude of incisions in the XO’s anatomy so the beam would not have to just pass through the entire body. But there was only so much they could do with starship based facilities.

Surall reviewed sensor data of the first target area.

“Your removal of the bacteria in Zone 1 appears successful, Doctor.” She reported, checking both the medical array and the PADD in her hand. “Theleron spill over appears to be within acceptable limits. I am going to adjust the firing protocol to limit spillage even further.”

As the Vulcan scientist moved to the main control board to do this, Keller moved on to a third incision in the glandular area of the neck. “Now beginning with Zone 3.”
Nurses moved in and out between the Theleron apparatus and the med sensors. Only two assistants had been allowed in the operating room for this procedure. Should the radiation emitter malfunction, Keller had wanted to keep the collateral damage to a minimum. The fewer dead, the better.

The treatment was, thus far, going exceptionally well. At the doctor’s current rate of progress, the entire procedure would be finished within half the original allotted time frame. Surall considered this prospect in a revised success percentage for the XO. Then the lighting in sickbay dimmed save for those in their immediate area. Red tracers ignited and began to flash a moment before the captain’s voice rang out through the corridors.

“Red Alert! All hands stand to battlestations!”

[Governor Ronjar]

CH. 5.0




Over Warden Jarn leaned in closer to the view screen from his languorous command couch. He wasn’t seeing what he was after. Centered in the viewer was a plasma lit ball of rock, a mere planetoid within the limits of this desolate, unmarked starsystem. Its craggy, brown surfaces were littered with impact craters and long stretches of plasma scoring. For uncounted centuries, that little hunk of rock had been taking a beating.

The planetoid wasn’t what Jarn was looking for.

Endeavour wasn’t there.

The warden’s teeth ground. He swatted the unclad leg that lay across his lap. The woman laying across him; one of his many…employees; groaned lazily and pulled her long legs back to her and rolled onto her side. The warden ignored her as he usually always did. Where was that human ship?

“Technician!” Jarn’s gravelly voice growled out across the ship’s command center. “Where is that ship?!”

The small, spectacled Ya’wenn manning the ship’s scanners trembled beneath his loose-fitting uniform. He knew well that the Over Warden’s displeasure often led to pain…or worse…

“I’m scanning. The ship doesn’t exist at the area the Charma detected it.”

“Obviously!” Jarn had the voice of a man who’d smoked harsh plants all his life. It sounded like an avalanche of stone. His aggravation made it even more terrible. “Where is it NOW!?”

The tech practically froze in place at the sound of his employer’s outburst. Other members of the crew were beginning to steal coy looks his direction. They reveled in his misery. They were here by choice. The tech was here because he owed Jarn money. Self-preservation won out over gripping fear. The technician’s hands began to flow over the contours of the console before him.

“Th—Uh…The alien ship has moved off… I’m reading an ion trail.”

“Impossible. The Charma’s captain reported their engines were splayed open like a whore’s nethers.” Jarn scoffed. “It would take them days to get them back together.”

The tech chose his reply very carefully.

“They had to have…fixed them… They’re not in orbit and there are no ship components remaining in the area. They’ve moved off and they left nothing behind.”
Jarn breathed a resigned sigh. His large mass reclined back into the leather comfort of the huge couch. The barely clothed female rolled back into his lap and his hand stroked all it might wish to.

“Track their ion signature. Ford won’t be escaping at warp. Even if he put his nacelles back together, they can’t be usable yet.” His cold eyes bore holes into the fore screens. “Give the steersman a course. We’ll track the aliens down and claim our payment.”
***





“They’re coming in, Cap’n.” Signaled Commander Davenport.

Captain Ford rounded the main weapons console to reclaim the conn. His eyes glanced from the operations officer to the debris-strewn, plasma-lit space that his ship presently occupied. The fight he’d expected and planned for was about to start. Ford steeled himself for what was to come. He forced all other concerns, even that of his friend lying in the infirmary, completely out of his mind.

“Begin targeting on Hostile One. Time to weapons range?” He said.

Nechayev was tapping in targeting parameters upon his console. He looked up from his preparations as a junior tactical officer stepped in beside him to assist. “Ya’wenn wessels vill be in range vithin six minutes if they do not diverge on their present course.”

“I think they’ve finally spotted us, Cap’n.” Ron called off again; himself looking up from ops to look at the plasma lit screen. “They’re increasing speed. Incoming at point seven c.”

“Revised time to contact now three minutes.” Came the tactical officer’s voice.

Bronstien’s voice came next. “We’ve still got a point two velocity edge on them at maximum impulse, Cap.”

Ford found himself smirking grandly. This kid never ceased to amaze him...

“You think you can pilot this big girl that fast in these quarters? She turns like an ox cart at high impulse.”

The dark haired youth turned halfway in his chair to flash his CO a winning smile. “I can manage it, Skipper.”

Ford shrugged, adding his helmsman’s confidence into the equation.

“Maintain station-keeping and stand by…”

“Aye.”

The voice the captain had been waiting on suddenly piped up. “Incoming hail, Captain.” Lieutenant Smith reported, “Coming from the larger ship.”

“On screen.”

The swirling patterns of pink-red clouds and whirling debris was instantly replaced by an opulent lounge filled with a grotesque array of finery, décor and furniture. Laying here and there about the room’s furnishings were a group of un-uniformed Ya’wenn males manning what might have been consoles. Many had drinks and food dishes sitting atop their workstations without regard for safety or any kind of procedure. Many women of various species lay or sat about, accompanying the men but contributing little more than expanses of unclad flesh.

Sitting on what looked like a leather couch in the center of it all was the grey clothed, slouching form of Over Warden Jarn. The oily looking being’s grey skin looked darker than the last time they’d met and his brow was far more furrowed. A small grin curled the corners of his black lips as his evil eyes glinted out through the viewer at Ford.

Ford knew that if he did not solve his problems with this creature today, and in a final fashion, that Jarn would be a headache for him and his ship till they were ordered out of this sector. He did not have Admiral Sharp’s acclaimed ‘sixth sense’. He didn’t need it to recognize a monster when he saw one.

“Captain Ford.” The granite, stone-grinding voice grated out from the speaker overhead. “We have some unfinished business between us…”

Ford forced an unworried smile and leaned back into the cushions of his new chair.

“Oh, really? I thought we were settled up.”

Darkness flashed in that stone colored face. Jarn was a brawny, muscle packed man. He could likely hold his own in a fistfight with a Klingon. Any semblance of a smile fell from his face as he leaned just a bit closer from his couch. “You don’t amuse me, Captain. I lost seven hundred kevats of trillium ore and ten full wave converters when your torpedo came blasting down on my loading dock. My men are still rebuilding that dock. Add that to the fact that you reneged on our deal!”

“Deal? You mean the facade where you opened fire on my ship and ground team even though we paid you a more than fair price to remove a problem from your planet?”

“You stole back your damned latinum!” Jarn’s forehead blossomed with pulsing veins and he spat out toward the viewer on his end. Ford refused to show any emotion over the matter, all to further infuriate the alien commander. The madder he became, the better.

“I removed our payment after you sent warships to attack the Klingon caverns. If you had held up your end of the bargain, there would have been no hardship on either side.”

Jarn seemed to suddenly solidify. His jaw jutted with offense, or perhaps resolve. He, too, leaned back in his command seat. A pair of womanly legs stretched lazily across his lap.

“I misjudged you, Captain Ford. I had thought you would be a man more easily exploited. Either way, you cost me a great deal of money. I’ve come for your ship and your crew.”

Ford scoffed, his smirk losing its mirth.

“Well you just came barkin’ up the wrong damn tree, Hoss.”

“Come now, Captain.” Jarn suddenly took on the tone of a man trying to preach reason to the unknowing. “You cannot truly mean to fight me. Your ship is disabled. You have no light speed drive, and the last time you encountered my ships, we drove you from our world!”

Ford’s glare became a warning one. His eyes did not waver or blink. “Overstating your accomplishments won’t intimidate us, Warden. You’ve got more of a fight on your hands than you know.”

“I would have preferred to have taken your vessel and crew intact, Captain…” Jarn’s gravel finally trailed off, as though his voice of reason had failed to convince the stupid. “But if you care for neither…”

Finally, the communication ended.

“They’re assuming an attack posture, Captain.” Said Davenport. “Diamond formation with Jarn at the tail end.”

Ford could hear the disembodied voice of his XO from the chair beside him chiding: “Pussy!” The captain found himself grinning despite himself. He began to address his men in turn.

“Distance?”

“Fifty million kilometers, Keptin. Firing range in one minute, twenty seconds.” Was the weapons officer’s reply. “They have fully armed their weapons and are beginning to acquire target.”

“Helm, all ahead flank! Maximum impulse.”

“Max impulse, aye, Skipper!” Came from the helm.

Daniel Nechayev’s voice from the gunnery station was heard again. “Weapons range now in thirty two seconds, Keptin.”

“Comm, begin broadband jamming of all frequencies! When I call engineering, I want to hear static in Tolin’s voice!”

“Aye, Captain.”

“Engines now show all ahead flank, Cap.” Reported Mister Bronstien. The dark haired man glanced up to the images of the four closing attackers that were only now becoming visible. “Course, sir?”

“Right down their throat, helmsman. Bear on the one directly between us and the command ship. Engineer, divert full emergency power to forward screens.” Chevis tapped the ship’s address control. “All hands, brace for contact.”

On the big forward screen, the images of the approaching Ya’wenn warships continued to grow in size and detail. Open, glowing weapons ports stared out across the shrinking distance, backed up with banks of missile batteries. All five ships were racing toward each other, a knife in their teeth and loaded for bear. Time inched away, going along so slowly that it pained the nerves, but so quickly also that it seemed to disappear in an instant.

“Torpedo range now, Keptin!”

“Hold fire as planned.”

“Aye, Keptin.”

A moment later, while an agonized weapons officer’s finger stood poised over the initiator key, the quartet of Ya’wenn opened up with their combined batteries. Missiles, being of far greater range, launched first. The foremost of the four ships emptied their entire missile armament all in one terrific display of chemical fires and contrails. The command ship unleashed hers as well, though she never came out from behind her covering escort to do so. Those missiles had simply been preprogrammed to arc around the obscuring friendly craft and head in toward Endeavour.

Nechayev’s head snapped up from his sensor boards.

“Incoming missiles, Keptin. Counted forty-eight weapons in total!”

This was an imposing number, even with modern defenses. Starfleet had learned back in the days of the NX-01 class of starship how easily dismissed a standard, sublight missile could be. They could be shot down by a single phaser blast or just plain outrun by any impulse powered ship. Warp evasion rendered them less than useless. Modern torpedoes launched from their ship at full speed, and had sustainers built in for warp speed firing. Their tracking was too fast to watch, let alone easily out- maneuver or shoot down.

Never-the-less, the Ya’wenn had just put a wall of them in the sky…

“Forward and flank phasers to point defense!”

“Aye, Keptin! Set to one third power.” Chevis had to appreciate a weapons officer who understood how to conserve critical phaser energy. One didn’t need a full power phaser to cut a missile body in half. “Coming into range now…firing!”

Short, quick bursts from the forward phasers lashed out like whip strikes, slapping at incoming weapons. The slow moving missiles went down one by one. Some were detonated at the warhead, creating billows of nuclear fire and brilliant surges of light. Others were snapped in half, separating from their drives with a fluff of smoke and sparkling debris. First one died, then three and seven and still more. The blossoming detonations and spiraling patterns of junk filled the main viewer. But still more weapons came through. Soon, the enemy’s launchers would be reloaded for a second barrage…

Endeavour bucked with the impact of the first warhead to get through. Nuclear weapons weren’t ideal for space deployment, but were very sufficient when scoring a direct impact. Warning alarms sounded in key compartments, including the bridge and engineering.

“A hit on forward shields!” The staff engineer called from his post. “Reinforcement holding!”

“Evasive, Skipper?” Offered from the helm.

“Negative, Mister Bronstien.” The CO responded with far too much calm for the situation. “Weather the storm, steady as she goes—“

Another missile angled in on the great Excelsior and rocked her to port. The helm corrected just as quickly, avoiding any deviation in their attack course. The ships centered in the visual display continued to enlarge. One could now see the red trim of their paint schemes. A third weapon then impacted. The overheads dimmed against the power drain and some fuse or another blew out aft of the conn with a flurry of sparks.

“Forward shields now showing strain, Captain!” Came from the engineer. “Down to ninety-four percent! Emergency capacitors nearing depletion!”

“Reroute from port and starboard grids, but keep those forward screens strong!”  Davenport added his voice to the torrent. “Coming in on phaser range of target ship, Cap’n!”

Three missiles remained from the opening salvo. The enemy released its second. Another forty-eight speeding weapons launched out from the warships and made their way toward Endeavour’s phalanx of defenses.

“More incoming!” Called from science.

“First barrage destroyed, Keptin.” The tactical officer then reported. He and his staff were sweating from the building heat on the bridge and from their efforts in prioritizing targets. “Ve are not likely to intercept nearly so many of this next onslaught.”

“Understood. Helm, cut impulse drive! Ron, direct excess impulse power to shields!”

“Skipper,” Johnathan warned from his pilot’s seat, “going in without the main drive is gonna cut reaction control to zilch!”

“Thought you could handle it!” Ford countered, his eye glancing down from the viewer to the tac display on his left armrest. The missiles were screaming in, the distance to travel even shorter for them this time. Phaser reserves were down to thirty-two percent: eight or nine full-power blasts. Torpedoes were waiting, but now was not the time…

“Range now two hundred thousand kilometers!” The science tech signaled.

“Lock in full phasers on the lead ship! Target the shielding over her weapons banks!”

“Ready and firing!” Responded Nechayev. Daniel unleashed the full remainder of the ship’s drained phaser energy into the target’s defense fields. Those fields flared and buckled under each hit, the armor and hull composites beneath blackening. Lightning arced around the impacts. The lieutenant measured his timing to allow for the maximum recharge time for the reserves. It would not do to run the phasers dry, leaving the ship without weapons for agonizing, long seconds. At last, after ten solid hits in the same location, the Ya’wenn’s heavily reinforced shielding gave out. A blast tore away a long stretch of hull paneling.

Then the enemy missiles landed home.

Four hit all at once, throwing standing crewmen to the deck and into support railing. Damage alarms began to wail even before those manning the monitors could assess their meaning. Then came a series of five more hellish impacts. Ten-megaton warheads pounded at Endeavour’s protective shielding, and battered the men within. Ford felt mighty glad for the harness across his lap, but pitied the men at the free standing weapons consoles. No matter how good the inertial dampners in the decks beneath them, it was still a trial to remain on your feet.

“Strikes on fore, starboard, dorsal and aft screens!” Called off Nechayev’s most senior sensor tech, clutching the aft console for relief. Daniel himself was also clinging to his station, nearly wrapped around it to stay aloft.

“Shields down to forty percent overall!” Came from engineering. The lad there sounded frightened, but steady. “Forward screens nearing failure!”

“Some of the incoming missiles have lost their target,” Reported the acting science officer, bringing the only good news. “Comm’s jamming has them confused! EM bursts have scrambled lateral arrays seven and ten!”

“Course, helm?”

“Stable, Skipper!” Bronstien’s voice was strained through gnashed teeth. He was literally fighting against the kinetic forces of the weapons hitting them via the ship’s RCS thrusters. Their vector wobbled and jerked, but their bow remained pointed right for the alien escort. “I’ve got some thrusters offline!”

A final missile stab slammed Endeavour on her side. The secondary tactical and engineering teams picked themselves up from the blue carpeted deck. Mister Nechayev looked up from his board.

“Ve’re through the barrage, Keptin. Ten seconds till next firing.”

“Maintain fire on that escort!” Ford projected, feeling like standing and grabbing the surrounding bridge rail. “Distance?”

“Ten thousand kilometers!” From the helm.

Beside Johnathan, Ronald eyed the formation of enemy ships suspiciously. “Outer escorts are drawing further out. They’re gonna flank!”

Energy blasts of concentrated white energy leapt out and began to assail the Federation ship. Endeavour shook and rattled anew. The already beleaguered shields took an even worse pounding, inching closer and closer to failure. Ford held his breath, waiting for the final moment.

“Five thousand kilometers!” Called Bronstien. Helm control had to be almost impossible with all of the weapons blasts.

“They’re hitting us with a mixture of fusion cannon and magnetron beam weaponry!” Reported the science officer. The engineer was next to call out.

“Forward shields ten percent and failing!”

All at once, the enemy weapon discharges halted, relieving the great starship of her torment. Having fired off everything all at once, the enemy had exhausted their weapons capacitors. Endeavour had some breathing room.

“One thousand kilometers…mark!” Reported helm.

“Fire torpedoes!”
***

[Governor Ronjar]

CH. 5.5




Jarn watched with growing excitement as the Federation cruiser roared in. He’d give Ford this much…he was a brave man. Without thought for the safety of himself, ship or crew, the human commander was tearing straight in to get at Jarn’s command ship.

What amazed the Over Warden the most was the fact that Endeavour hadn’t yet been blown to atoms. He’d rather be able to keep the ship for himself, of course, and would like to add at least half the crew to his mining staff. Ford’s aggression was making that an impossibility. But, despite the suicidal nature of Ford’s assault, his ship was still out there. He’d defeated or taken ninety-two missiles, two-thirds of what Jarn’s force could carry with them. The science tech reported that the human ship still had shielding! Now she’d shrugged off a full barrage of energy fire!

“Crefane is still taking fire from the human ship!” The nervous, pathetic little voice of the tech reported. “She’s lost forward shields and is taking hull damage!”

“That’s what the Crefane’s out there for!” Graveled Jarn back at the man. He glanced anyway to the image of the lead escort on the viewer.

The small, arrowhead-like Crefane was shuddering and rolling side to side. Fire roiled from her bow over the contours of her outer hull. Plasma leaks and atmosphere were trailing behind her now, along with glowing bits of metal debris and what might have been bodies. Jarn hoped there would at least be enough left of Endeavour to pay for repairs to Crefane…

Jarn’s ship suddenly rocked.

Confusion passed over the huge Ya’wenn’s granite face. What had that been? A blinding spear of red light flashed from…no…through the Crefane. An energy beam had just stabbed through his escort and struck his command ship for a second time!

“The human ship fires missiles!”

Jarn looked from the screen to the sensor tech, then back again. In that amount of time, the Crefane had burst into slowly spreading wreckage. A growing plume of flame expanded out from her devastated remains. Jarn’s eyes went wide. Then the undetonated human weapons came through.

Jarn’s command ship lurched violently forward with the first hit. Damage alarms cried out through the previously mundane engine and system noises that filled the bridge. The ill-clad lady across the warden’s lap hurtled forth from the command couch and thudded sickeningly against the forward helm console. Jarn slid off the plush couch, grabbing onto pillows, the couch frame and anything else that might help him remain seated. Three more horrendous blasts ripped into the ship. Anybody else who was not yet restrained in place now lay in a heap on the floor. Jarn clawed his way across a myriad of furnishings, pillows and cushions to make it back to his seat. Fires were consuming silken wall hangings at the aft of his bridge. Rage exploded within the warden, but also fear.

“Turn us aside, Steersman! Turn us the frell aside!”

Jarn cast a look back to his viewer, to make sure his pilot did not steer them into another of his own ships. He was greeted by a visage of the silvery human ship passing mightily through the expanding remains of his forward escort. There was not one mar on that ship’s skin! Her shields still glowed with the flame of the Crefane’s innards.

“Get us the frell away from that ship!”
***





“Hostile One destroyed, Keptin. Heavy damage to command ship’s shields.”

“Thank you, Mister Nechayev.” Ford replied with a pseudo-calm voice. “Target Jarn’s engines and prepare to—“

“Ya’wenn command ship has engaged warp evasive, Captain.” Came from the science console. “She didn’t go far…too much stellar debris.”

“She is now outside phaser range.” Followed the tactical officer. He could not disguise the disappointment in his voice. “Photon torpedoes still reloading.”

Ford’s eyes were down on the tac monitor on his armrest. Swinging the after photon tubes to bear on the command ship would allow Hostile Three to come in from Endeavour’s rear. He didn’t want that to happen. No matter how good Johnathan was at helm, that escort would be the devil to shake loose. But there was another option, given the spreading trajectories of the two remaining escorts…“Lock tractor beams on Hostile Two to portside! Helm, refire the engines and come right to 106 mark 070. Maximum impulse!”

‘Aye’s’ came from both officers even as the rhythm of vibrations in the deck suddenly lugged down with the new, added pull of another mass. Nechayev had snared the second escort vessel. On the viewer, the pattern of diffuse looking stars and swirling clouds spun as Endeavour turned and closed on the other escort ship.

Endeavour shook with three successive strikes from below and aft.

“Ventral shields taking hits from the tractored ship.” Said the engineer. “Shield holding at fifty percent. Forward shields rebuilding to twenty.”

Davenport was watching his proximity sensors, then began to count down. “Distance to Hostile Three now two thousand kilometers…one thousand five hundred…Three sees us and is going evasive!”

The aft of the retreating escort dipped on its left side, skirting around a large asteroid and passing through a charged field of tiny micro-debris. Endeavour possessed the higher sublight speed, and was closing the distance swiftly.

“Staying with ‘em!” Assured Mister Bronstien. No matter what kind of turn the escort pulled, Johnathan managed to close the gap with expert manipulation of the impulse controls. Several times during the chase, the tractored escort wailed away with her magnetron cannon, trying to break free.

Davenport went on counting off distance.

“Five hundred kilometers…two fifty…one thousand meters, now!”

“Mister Nechayev, put her in the hole!” Called out the captain.

The weapons officer had yet to take his eyes off the telemetry monitors.

“Helmsman, hold course…on my mark, increase pitch by twenty degrees with seventeen degrees starboard yaw.”

“Ready.”

“Mark!”

“Viewer aft!” Ford ordered.

The main viewer switched to a scene of the captured warship trailing behind them. Another mass loomed into view as Endeavour passed over the other Ya’wenn escort. The bow of the captured craft stabbed brutally into the depths of her sister ship. The main body of the untractored craft split with the force of the collision and rolled on her side. This action forced the captured ship to be dragged along the bottom of her ally. Their obliterated deflectors flared against each other, igniting plasma that spilled from within them both. Both interconnected vessels were racked and shattered by torrents of internal detonations as Endeavour dragged them along.

“Cut tractor beams. Restore viewer ahead.” Said the captain. Ford unlocked his harness, standing to stride around to the back of the weapons console. “Condition of escort vessels?”

The science officer glanced back with a deviant grin ghosting across his lips. “Both ships intact, but adrift. They’re gonna have fun cutting them apart.”

“And Jarn?”

The science specialist looked back to his boards. “The command ship is at her best impulse speed. She bore our direction for a few seconds…but now she’s breaking for open space. He’s withdrawing, Captain.”

“Smarter than I thought he was…” Ford commented. He wasn’t at all sure letting Jarn escape was a good idea. But the command ship was still fully operable, and had warp drive. If he wanted to flee, Ford could do little about it.

“Ve vill have further troubles from this man in the future, Keptin.” The weapons officer told him.

Chevy looked back at the slim man, offering a smile of agreement. He suddenly felt hot, felt the uncomfortable pressure in his chest that told him it was time for his meds again. Ford unsnapped the front flap of his duty jacket and patted his tac officer on the shoulder.

“What more can we do, Lieutenant?”

Daniel nodded back. Endeavour was hobbled, however victorious she may be at this moment. They couldn’t push their luck. Ford returned to the center of the railed bridge section, but did not take the conn. “Mister Smith, relieve local jamming. Let’s see if Jarn has anything to say…”

“Incoming hail, Captain.” The young officer replied immediately.

Jarn’s angered mug again popped up on the screen. Ford allowed himself a smug feeling smile. Jarn deserved it. It also relieved the pounding of is weak heart valves for a moment. “Parting comments, Warden?”

The Ya’wenn criminal attempted a belligerent scoff to show his lack of concern.

“Where ever you go from this day, Captain, I’ll be waiting for you. You won’t like what you started…You might have preferred employment back on Kovarn…”

Ford glowered at the grey skinned ruffian.

“Well you just come see me again, you sum’bitch! I’ll be waitin’!”

The screen returned to the view of surrounding space. Ford tiredly lowered himself back into his seat. He observed his command center. Most of the signs of the Gorn’s assault had been removed. Only a little wear showed, giving the bridge more character…showing what she’d suffered and done in her life. Now a few strained circuits smoked, soot sketched a squiggly line from a vent up to the machinery in the overhead. A few lights had gone out and not come back on. Otherwise, the bridge faired pretty well today. Sweaty officers followed their captain’s example and opened the fronts of their jackets, revealing the color of their department shirts beneath. The enlisted men had no such relief in their jumpsuits, but at least their undershirts were lighter. Chevis ran a hand over the ruff stubble of his shaven head.

“Stand down from battlestations and assume Yellow Alert. Helm, get us some distance from those crippled escorts in case they get the ill-advised notion to take some potshots at us.”

Ford silenced himself for a while, allowing his crew to do as he’d directed. The emergency was effectively over. Now he had the time to worry over the other things that had been depriving him of sleep in the last few days…
***

[Governor Ronjar]

CH. 6




Captain’s Log, Stardate: 9704.8

It’s been an hour since our battle with Jarn’s warships. One was destroyed outright, two crippled. Jarn exercised the finer points of cowardice. His ship went to high warp on a course deeper into the plasma storm. We have taken a position near to this system’s star to further mask our location.

Our damage was incredibly light, mostly overloads from the electromagnetic bursts of the nuclear weaponry the Ya’wenn use. The ship should be back in order within six hours with warp drive restored in two days. I recommend Chief Engineer Tolin for commendation and a promotion. Also commended is Lieutenant Bronstien’s piloting skill.
When we put in at Starbase 23 I’ll authorize two full weeks of leave time. For now, though, I must attend other matters…





Sickbay was dimly lit as Captain Ford and Commander Davenport entered from the corridor beyond. A sole bed was occupied, a very good sign just a few hours after battle. It was also a good sign that it was occupied at all. This was the recovery ward.

Doctor Keller silently padded in soft soled shoed toward the two officers. Still attired in the white coat of infirmary duty, she bore a tired look and a warm smile. The captain returned both while Ron looked happily hopeful.

“He’s going to be fine, Captain.” Was all the doctor said. No self-congratulations about how hard it was to pull him through. No technical babble the captain wouldn’t understand. She only told him what he wanted to hear.

“Thank you, Doctor. He’s a good friend.”

“Thank you for making it a quick fight.”

Ronald smiled and clasped his friend on the shoulder.

“Chevy doesn’t fight long fights. He gets it done, quick, fast and in a hurry!”

Ford smiled and stepped past the two of them.

Ben lay in a great bulk atop the biobed. A regulation color sheet lay over him, rising and falling as he rested. The indicators above his head were all in the high yellow fields. Color had returned to normal on his friend’s face. His head was shaved save for the top. Now he had what had once been called a high and tight.

Thomas would be here for some days longer likely. Maybe when he came to, Endeavour would be warp capable again. Things would be normal to greet him back to the world of the living. Ford would read the entire after-surgery report when Keller presented it in the morning. For now, he was just thankful Ben was alive.

With that thought, and a smile on his face, Chevis turned and left with the doctor and his chief of ops, headed for the officer’s ward. He had a bottle of blackberry Merlot to break open for them.

END


Well, that be the end of it. I enjoyed writing the battle scene quite a lot. And before the obvious questions about it arise, be it known that my intention was to show how utterly outclasses the Ya'wenn were versus Endeavour. This plays a big role later on, espescially in Story #9, the climax of what I consider Endeavour's 1st season...

lemme know what ya thought.

--thu guv!

[Jaeih t`Radaik]

I also would like to see your stories posted all at once. I'll come back and read the rest of this when I have more time.

Good storytelling though. I like your characters, as in "I'd be friends with them in real life".

Keep them coming. I'm working on (as you may have already twigged) my first ISC story. Or rather, my first story involving the ISC. Centres on my Fed character.

[Scottish Andy]

Guv, that was a very entertaining story. The battle scene was well done, and you showed that the Ya'wen were totally outclassed while still making it believable that they didn't know that.

Glad to see the XO made it. You had a great set up for his surgery, with Engineering, Science, and Medical all combining to put together a radical but believable treatement. Very "in the spirit of TOS". McCoy would approve. 

I am toying with this idea as well. That is, outclassed opponents. SFC tournaments aside, you almost never come up against a new race whose ship has comparable weapons and tech. Old enemies, sure. But even in deep space warfare, sometimes you get unlucky and yoru light cruiser ends up being run down by a battlecruiser. I'll take this story onboard in my planning. if I get that far. 

Looking forward to the next one.

P.S. Does anyone have the game 'Bridge Commander'? I was going to get it for the movies I've seen made from it on YouTube. Can anyone tell me if its any good to actually play and make movies?

[Governor Ronjar]

I thank you very much for the kind summation, Andy. The battle scene wasn't very hard, oddly enough. I knew just how Jarn would react to what happened, and I always write Ford as a straight forward, take her down their throat kind of captain. Another trade mark of Ford's from the old RPG was grabbing up an enemy and ramming him into another ship. So I had to include such a maneuver.

Also glad that I've inspired even the smallest idea for one of your stories. I'll find it gratifying to recognize it in your work, when and if posted (Hint, Roger needs more Trek stories to read... I'm still Jonesing for new Trek....)

We'll see a different side in Jarn come Story 10. While he's new to space combat and a bit of a coward, he's no slouch on the ground. That's all I'll say...

To Jaeih, I'm very gratified and happy by your statement that you would like to be friends with my cast... Most of them are, after all, directly based on myself and my own friends. Save for La'ra, who doesn't totally have a direct personallity based on him in the tales... Bit hard to explain. (Surall is based on how La'ra plays a Vulcan character in one of our Trek RPGs... Only this incarnation is female and is younger. To me, it was one of his best and well-played characters)

Well, keep commenting, all who have not read. I still await the patented Larry's Big-Ass Review.

--thu guv!

[CaptJosh]

Great stuff, Guv. Well done on the technical details and battle tactics. The characters, as usual are excellent and interact well. A very engaging story.

A minor nit, though. In the first two chapters, the XO's condition is described as stemming from a bacterial infection, but in chapter 3, the doctor calls it a virus while pleading her case for the radical treatment with the skipper, but afterward the story resumes calling it a bacterial infection.

[Governor Ronjar]

Great stuff, Guv. Well done on the technical details and battle tactics. The characters, as usual are excellent and interact well. A very engaging story.

A minor nit, though. In the first two chapters, the XO's condition is described as stemming from a bacterial infection, but in chapter 3, the doctor calls it a virus while pleading her case for the radical treatment with the skipper, but afterward the story resumes calling it a bacterial infection.

Yup, yer right!

Oopsy!

Oh well, worse things slipped by the TNG cast and crew during their run. At least Endeavour's bridge isn't plagued by phantom microphones descending from the sky...

I'll fix that one later. It is supposed to be consistantly bacterial. BTW, glad to see you're still posting. Don't think I'd read from you in a while...

--thu Guv!

[Commander La'ra]

Let's see...where to start...

...well, first off, I really enjoyed the overall pace of the story and the tension in the air prior to the battle (and the operation).  I said that previously, but since it's probably my favorite part of this particular piece, I'll damn well mention it again.   Throughout the initial stages, you've got a very, very good sense of matters approaching a critical point in both of the main plot arcs.  And, following the confrontations with both the Ya'wenn and Thomas' disease, you get a very deep sense of relief.  Unlike the other stories in this arc, there's a big sense of 'that's it, we won, we're free and clear at least for now'.  That's rare in a Rog story.

Now, on to the confrontations themselves...

The battle with the Ya'wenn, as Andy said, was very well done and convinced me that the Endeavour's attackers didn't really know they were overmatched.  You also convinced me the ship was in danger despite their opponents not quite being on the same level...Jarn isn't exactly Stephen Decatur, but he's smart enough to A: Bring more friends to the party and B: Attempt to overwhelm what he knows is a superior, if hobbled, ship.  I liked Ford's 'choosing his ground' to nulify a possible advantage on their part, too...never see that on Trek.  And, in the classic sign of a good battle scene, I kept thinking of what La'ra would do in a similar situation.

Of course, since I have some inside info, I knew precisely what was going to happen when the Endeavour tractored the escort ship. 

The operation seemed a little glossed over to me at first...and still does, but I decided I liked that.  When you get right down to it, the procedure, as described, would've been tedious to describe fully, and probably the sort of thing that either works or doesn't, so a 'crisis' really wouldn't have been believable.  I think you should us about what I think you should've, and no more.

I also liked the lead-up to the medical procedure...the multiple departments working on the plan, the bizarre method of treatment, etc, Surall's estimation of the odds, etc.  Much like the initial encounter with the Ya'wenn scout, it went into building that tension I liked so much.

Now, on to characterization:  In this story, we probably saw the least 'development', character wise, when compared to the other tales.  But that's okay.  This one is more of a set-piece, to me.  The characters, by this point, are known quantities, and the point of the whole endeavor (bad pun!) is that we see them blend together to work as a crew.  We've seen that in the other stories, yeah, but not so much as we did in this one.  This encounter seems to actually be what you titled it:  Their tribulation, their real test where they show us what they can do when they're together and in tune with each other.  And when they meet said test and conquer it...warm fuzzies all over.

And, as always, the events of previous stories are not forgotten.  Ford's continual attempts to sneak in just a little sleep...the repair difficulties...the physical effects of all the crew has been through are there and evident, though not hammered into our skulls.

Weak points are few and far between in this story.  There are parts where your dialogue sequences could be a little crisper...hard to explain, exactly, but lemme find an example.

“I misjudged you, Captain Ford. I had thought you would be a man more easily exploited. Either way, you cost me a great deal of money. I’ve come for your ship and your crew.”

Ford scoffed, his smirk losing its mirth.

“Well you just came barkin’ up the wrong damn tree, Hoss.”

I'd eliminate the 'Ford scoffed' part and just cut right to the punchline, here.  We know Ford well enough by now we KNOW what kind of expression he's got on his face, and I love the 'barkin' up the wrong tree' line...I want it to have the ol' immediate impact it ought to.  There's a few other places like that.

Note that I'm applying some of my own sense of style here, though, but that's probably a given since I'm writing the review.  And even if you agree with me, it's a minor point.

And now, the traditional end of Larry's Big-Ass Review(TM)...the 'little things I liked' that didn't seem to fit anywhere else.

The captain's chair and the 'repair' thereof, Surall stating that Vulcan humor is hard to catch, Davenport just being Davenport, Bronstein's convincing confidence, Tolin's irritation but understanding when she's told to close up the nacelles, Keller seeming tired enough to have run a marathon, the captain's dog, the Endeavour being all theatrical and flying through the debris, etc, etc.

There we go.  How's THAT for a reply?

[Governor Ronjar]

*Returns from pleasuring self in the head*

Oh, yeah. Aboot damn time.

Yeah, I said aboot.

Why thank you ever so much.

I'm glad that the combat and operation scenes were enjoyed by you and everyone. The operations scene was written as being longer, but as you said, 'more is tedious'. So a lot of that wound up on the cutting room floor. I thought glazing over the scene to hide my ineptitudes in medical scenes and to not over-cloud the crisis issued with yet another problem would be a benefactor. Glad to see they were not missed!

So far as the whole 'Ford scoffed and his smirk' blah-blah-blah part before he gives his response: I hadn't even thought of it on that one till you mentioned it. But as I endeavo(u)r to always throw in facial expression, even if it does get tedious, in hindsight, simply switching the order in which the two sentences appeared would have made us both happy. You'd get the direct response, I'd get to describe Ford's changing expression. I'm very big into that last one. Seems very important to me, somehow, though I'm always at odd on how to deliver it time and again without rerunning the same sentence structure...

The structure could have come out as thus: "Well you just came barkin' up the wrong damn tree, Hoss!" Ford scoffed, his smirk losing its humor...etc...

Given the speed at which I write these, and seemingly I am FORCED to write them at said speed, such little things I would have liked to have noticed...fail to get noticed.

I've been happy as heck to write this series of Trek stories. It's been too long since having a regular, forthcoming series that I enjoyed writing. Interesting how it always seems to be with this ship...NCC-2007.

Anyway, I have started Story #10! It shifts into a whole new gear in this story, which I would consider to be the first episode of a 'second season', were it a TV show. With such a season run, and its graphic content, this series would be the first Trek aired on HBO...

Anywho, I amble! Thank you much, oh La'ra!

--thu guv!

[CaptJosh]

Sorry I've been AWOL, Guv (and everyone else). Hopefully I'll have another chapter of mine done soon. Though not from the computer at work. This keyboard sucks.

Larry, your review mirrors my own feelings on the story now that I've read through it again without being too tired to see straight. Good to see you have as discerning an eye as ever.