Topic: Story Number 10! Of the Survivors...

[Governor Ronjar]

Firstly, a warning to those with delicate sensabilities... There are graphic scnenes in this story. I've toned them down some, but some may still wish to steer clear of it.


Star Trek
Of The Survivors…
CH. 1





In a cold and dark room, a single man hung, bound at the wrists, from a high support girder. He was naked, stripped of clothes and all his outward vestiges of dignity. Frigid water dripped from the leaking, rusted pipes that crossed the room’s ceiling. The chill drops came down on him with irregular timing. They chased each other down his back, his shoulders, over his stubbly head.

The man’s head hung down in tiredness. Sheer exhaustion led his shoulders to relax, to constrict his windpipe. The girth of his own muscles pressed in on his throat, choking him. He didn’t really care. Maybe this time he’d just let it happen. Give up and die. Maybe he’d find peace in the after life…if there was one. His dangling feet sagged closer, agonizingly closer to the grimy, duracrete floor of the basement chamber he hung in. The manacles about his wrists made a fresh cut. The new sensation almost felt good. At least it felt comparatively warm…

But at long last, when the human thought he was about to give all of this world up, self-preservation kicked in, forcing his straining arm muscles to pull back up, spread out his shoulders again. No, he couldn’t just let himself die. He didn’t know why the hell he was fighting so damn hard. Maybe he was just so damned entertained by all of this…

The grating noise of a heavy steel bolt being drawn aside roused the dirt and blood covered man from the closest thing he’d yet come to slumber. Perhaps his keeper had come to end it for him. Maybe this visit would be the last. He deigned, however, to make sure his host was greatly charmed by his presence.

The gravelly voice, sounding like stone being torn into rubble, came up from behind. Once again the Warden was smiling. He hadn’t been when he’d left the room last time. He circled round the hanging captive, ducking close beneath the man’s sweat smeared armpits. The grey skinned man grinned, looking like true evil amid the dark shadows of this sublevel.

“How are you doing today, Captain?” He said jovially. “I trust the day of rest I granted you has left you refreshed and ready to begin anew?”

Commodore Chevis Ford glared back at the Ya’wenn Over Warden with a sardonic blaze lighting his bleary eyes. “Has it been a whole day already, Jarn? Seems like your stink only just cleared the room.”

Jarn smiled again, this time without the visible teeth. He looked away with a friendly expression as though he were sharing a warm moment with a close friend. As though Ford hadn’t been hanging from his wrists here for three days, undergoing constant torture. He looked back to the twisting human. Jarn was almost tall enough not to have to look up at the suspended man.

“Come now, Captain… Is that anyway to speak to your humble host?”

“My apologies…” Ford tried in vain to refrain from gasping in his exertion. “I’m used to much less evolved company. I’m sorry if I’ve offended your delicate sensibilities.”
Jarn looked at him oddly. Ford’s response had almost sounded cordial. Was the human beginning to crack? “No problem at all, Captain Ford. In fact—“

“Here…” Ford interrupted as he began to swing back to face Jarn more evenly. “Lemme make it up to ya!”

Jarn jerked his gaze down at the first splash of warm urine to wet his tunic. With an animalistic snarl bordering on its own insanity, Jarn reared back with a balled, stone-like fist and struck the area where the offensive stream had sprouted. Ford took the hit one the side of a hastily raised thigh. He tried to kick out at the Ya’wenn warden. But he was too slow. His leaden muscles were unable to catch the quicker, fully rested alien. Jarn’s second punch landed on target. So did the third, forth and final strike.
Ford sagged from the chains, blood and spittle draining from his bubbling lips.

Jarn shook his hands free of trace fluids and circled around the gasping human. He shook his head in disappointed fashion. “What a disgusting display, Captain. It’s a shame you can’t make this whole affair easier for you. There’s no need to go through any of this ordeal. Just tell me what I want to know.”

“I don’t know sh*t.”

Jarn smiled sadly.

“So you’ve said. But we both know better. Come on, Captain… Take the easy road. Tell me where you’ve hidden your ship and all this pain will end. No more beatings, no more hanging from the ceiling. No more defecating on yourself. I’ll even find a place in my organization for you. You won’t be the first of my former enemies that I’ve turned around. There’s profit to be had here, Ford. Just name your price and I’ll give you a fair trade. Where is the Endeavour?”

“Gone. She blew when she fell into the plasma storm.”

“So you’ve said. But that shuttle pod I found you in was in far too good a shape to have come from within a plasma string. Your ship was intact when the shuttle launched. No, Captain…I saw that ship of yours take nearly thirty direct weapon strikes to her unshielded hull…and survive. She just turned away from my fleet and sailed away. I don’t think the plasma storms could claim her. At least not those circulating within that section.” Jarn turned back and stepped close to Ford once more. He didn’t think Ford would chance the reprocuctions to pee on him a second time. “I want that ship. Where is it, Captain?”

“Well…” Ford sighed, readying to get hit again. “If it was up yer ass, you’d know it.”

Jarn’s expression turned to one of sad resignation. He walked slowly away from Ford and knocked on the old steel door. The door withdrew once again, allowing entrance to a pair of dirty dressed prisoners wearing shock collars. They wheeled in a tall cart topped with hoses, electrodes and intravenous taps. Ford recognized the gear. He’d been expecting something of the sort.

The Over Warden seemed reluctant to look back at his prisoner as the two others went about the task of readying Ford to be attached to the mind-sifter. At least they were using alcohol to wipe down the areas they were about to pierce, Ford noted with a sarcastic thought.

“I regret resorting to this thing, Captain. I have seen what it can do to a man that’s been hooked up to one for too long. It was a gift from my Klingon allies, and I’ve been putting it to good use. I’d have rather converted you to my crew, Ford. A man of your skill and tactical knowledge would have made me invincible against those I aim to over throw. But since you will not render me the location of your ship, I must remove that knowledge by force. Save the both of us the trouble, Captain. Tell me where she is.”

Ford forced a wicked smile onto swollen, busted lips.

“Go climb a tree.”

Jarn smiled back, dark and admiring of his enemy’s resolve.

“You were a good adversary, Captain. I’m sorry it has to end this way.”

With that, the Ya’wenn warden turned and exited the sub-level. He left Ford in the hands of less than gentle prison thugs charged with the task of extracting intelligence directly from the neurons of the mind. The commodore was gratified at least that he didn’t have the energy to scream out any more. There would be no piteous echoes to follow the Over Warden back to his elevator.
***

Now that some have finished reeling over the fact that Ford isn't dead...lemme lend y'all a tidbit about my stories, which I've learned from Soap Operas over the years... "No body, no confirmed kill. And sometimes, not even a body is evidence enough..." 

I'll do the CH. by CH. thing again, unless viewership dies off as it has before. I may seem needy to some over the comments, but this is one of a very few sites that I bother with... So I swing by very often. Anyway, hope this little chapter gets some mudslinging going!

--thu guv!

[Commander La'ra]

Ah.  Reminds me of how your RPGS roll so far...you die...you roll the infamous destiny dice...you get those magic numbers and thus your character is alive, but the three numbers were triple-6's, which, in Rog-rules, means you character is probably wishing he'd just kicked the bucket like a good little boy.

Loved Ford's...weapon of retribution, btw.

Need more.

[Governor Ronjar]

CH. 2





Just beyond the outer reaches of the dangerous field known to Starfleet as the Tempest Plasma Region, a small starship decelerated to a near stop. She was a lithe and angular design, with upswept, wing-like engine struts and a sleek saucer profile. She bore obvious armor plating, covering the more vulnerable sections of her warp nacelles and her outer hull. Twin torpedo tubes jutted out from a cleft section in her forward saucer, their size in proportion to the rest of the craft lending testament to the small stature of the ship. She was less than two hundred meters in length, but bore an enormous armament. 

The USS Tenseiga, NCC-3056, was, for all intents and purposes, a warship. Labeled an escort vessel, her official duties were given to the protection of trade ships and patrolling Federation borders. Today, she was on a search mission. Pieces of a week old battle were spilling from the roiling masses of light red gas before the tiny combat vessel. Most of those twisted chunks of burnt metal were alien in origin, belonging to the Ya’wenn. Tenseiga was here for the few pieces that did not belong to the alien fleet.

On the bridge of the Tenseiga, Commander Benjamin Thomas all but clambered out of the command chair to get a good look at the view screen. He halted just aft of the combined helm/navigations console and gawked at the floating bits of metal that were parting themselves from the plasma storm. His blue eyes strained to seek out any sign of Starfleet designed alloys or hull sections. Every piece was blackened or tanned to a ruddy color. There was no outward sign to point the commander to any specific piece.

Ben glanced to the main sensor station.
“Surall?”

“I am scanning, Captain.” The Vulcan officer replied. The console before her, for all the modernistic appearance of the touch-pad controls and computer generated monitors that the station offered, truly was far less advanced than what she’d had aboard the Endeavour. Such a small, uncomplicated combat vessel could not hope to carry as expansive an array of scientific instruments such as what a line explorer possessed. Tenseiga was less than a quarter the volume of their previous starship. And most of her space was devoted to engineering and combat applications.

Commander Thomas waited impatiently beside the helmsman, Lieutenant Bronstien, continuing to watch the main screen. Bronstien looked up at the giant man who hunkered beside him. Ben had been plagued by the death of their former commanding officer, Commodore Ford. He continued to be plagued, in fact. The majority of the first few days since the battle had seen Thomas at the bottom of several bottles of hooch. He’d barely come up for air long enough to hurl hateful accusations at Ambassador Spock for his decisions which had shaped the battle. Were it not for the foresight of Admiral Sharp, Thomas would have remained at the bottom of the bottle.

The Admiral had given Thomas a much-needed kick in the ass. He’d ordered Thomas back onto active duty, told him to put down the bottle. When reinforcements for Starbase 23 had arrived, he’d emplaced Thomas as the CO of this ship. Newly commissioned, Tenseiga hadn’t even been fully manned when she and her sisters had come to the base. Her slated skipper remained in the Earth Sector, and hadn’t been due to take his ship on her shakedown cruise for another two weeks. Till further notice, this ship belonged to Thomas.

The decision had been controversial, especially given Thomas’ proclivity toward rash behavior. The incident involving the supposed Commodore Shiloah was just the most recent example of some very poor decisions. Command had balked at the idea of giving this man a ship of his own. But Sharp had swayed them. As Chief of Starfleet Operations, with words carried weight. Ben had gotten the commission. And it was the best therapy that could be provided the commander. Get back out here…look around.

Maybe even find his friend’s body…

Bronstien knew this last was among Thomas’s top priorities. He hadn’t voiced the concern, but the lieutenant knew it weighed heavily on his mind. The lieutenant could read it in the giant man’s every movement.

“Controls answering All-Stop, Captain.” Johnathan informed him. Ben looked back down at the helmsman and nodded. He still didn’t like being referred to as the ‘Captain’. He was this ship’s master, now, though. He was the captain.

“Alright…” He said absently, then looked back over to the small science station. Surall was laboring over the myriad of controls, gleaning every scrap of information she could from this ship’s scanner array. Finally, with the most subtle shake of her head, the science officer turned to face Thomas.

“Metallurgical scans reveal no trace of standard duranium or tritanium composites as found in Starfleet technology. All hull materials seem to match what we know of Ya’wenn construction methods.”

Ben seemed to sink in his boots. His meaty hand fell from the back of Bronstien’s chair to his side. “Keep scanning. Weapons officer, load a Type Three probe and ready to deploy it into the Tempest field.”

The junior grade lieutenant that headed Tenseiga’s tiny security department nodded back from the starboard tactical console. This ship sported two distinct weapons control stations, labeled Tactical I and Tactical II. Lieutenant Kurita manned the number two station at the moment, where the torpedo armament was mainly controlled. It was not long before the small Japanese man glanced back.

“Probe ready, Captain.”

“Fire.”

The tiny Tenseiga rattled with the expulsion of the two-ton probe into space. One wouldn’t have even felt a shimmer from aboard an Excelsior-Class ship. Thomas had served on ships this size before, but it was still going to take some getting used to again. He returned to the slim, fan-backed white command chair. Could he ever get used to all this? Command of his own ship? It felt so alien and so…temporary.

By his rank, Thomas belonged on a full sized destroyer or better. A frigate or perimeter action vessel such as this was, was technically a billet meant for a lieutenant commander, or even a senior lieutenant who had a great deal of experience. But Thomas had needed something to occupy him lest he turn into an alcoholic, and no larger ships were available for him to command. He thought nothing of the oddity, though certain other officers had made mention of the discrepancy.

“Captain…” The youthful voice of their comm officer, Lieutenant Smith, sounded from directly aft. Beyond the size of the console, Tenseiga offered much the same communications suite as Endeavour had possessed. She was, after all, intended to hear through all manner of fleet generated interference. “I’m picking up a faint signal…”

Ben swung his chair round.

“What type?”

“Not sure… I need more power to the comm array.”

Ben looked to his right, to the portside engineering console. At a gesture, he ordered the noncom there to relay the power management orders to the main engine room. A small ship like this operated under tighter power constraints than their larger cousins. It wasn’t long before Mister Smith had the power he’d requested.
The tall young man bent close to his station and pressed the microphone close to his ear as he listened. After a few tweaks to the transceiver controls, Noah looked back with confidence to his CO. “It’s a ship disaster beacon, sir. Coded to broadcast every ten minutes, and it’s been reconfigured for directional transmission.”

Ben’s eyebrows raised in surprise. He couldn’t help but feel that odd tingle of hope that the impossible might have occurred. That a disaster beacon had been set to directional broadcast meant that the sender didn’t want to be found by just anyone… “What ship, Mister Smith?”

“Endeavour, Captain! It’s the Endeavour!”

“Where away?”

Noah turned fully back to his console as he gathered every crew person’s attention. He manipulated the direction finder’s controls, narrowing down the possible origins of the signal. “It’s fuzzy, sir. But I think we should turn to heading 075 mark 017. I can’t read the distance.”

Ben whipped about the face the main screen. All that really showed out there was a great wall of fiery plasma. “Navigator, what’s out that way?”

The ensign manning the station next to Bronstien read slowly over the readouts before him. “Just a big mass of ionized particles, Captain. The cloud bulges out some four hundred thousand kilometers astarboard of us and goes on for over a parsec. Something might be transmitting on the other side of that.”

Lieutenant Bronstien leaned over and checked on the kid’s monitors himself.

“Confirmed, Cap’n. I think it clears on the other side.”

“Then bring us around, Helm. Ahead full.”

Tenseiga responded, rotating easily on her lateral axis and shot ahead at a quarter the speed of light. Johnathan Bronstien reveled in the maneuverability of this small ship, hardly able to keep the grim little smile from his face. Endeavour had been a huge, lumbering beast, slow to accelerate and hard to turn. In comparison, this ship was the proverbial hare racing before the tortoise. As a born pilot, he could not help but enjoy driving this craft. He did so, however, with a shade of regret.

The lieutenant deftly drove the escort around the circumference of the gaseous outcropping. As it began to recede off the left-hand edge of the main viewer, darker, emptier space loomed out beyond. The vast mass of the Tempest fell away from sight as Tenseiga rushed onward. Within an hour of long, silent bridge operation, the last vestiges of the violent storm had faded till barely a glow lit the viewer.

Bronstien finally allowed his eyes to drift up from the console blinking and chattering before him to study the main screen. Thomas rose out of the conn and resumed his standing space between the two flight control stations. The astonished look on his face made it apparent he thought he’d seen something.

“Interference now clearing.” Surall chimed in. “Lateral sensors have reflected off a solid object…”

“Getting the disaster beacon again.” Smith reported as well. “Signal has now switched to a constant pulse. I think her sensors have identified our transponder…”

Ben looked over to the science station.

“Are you detecting any evidence of active sensor emissions from the contact?”

“Negative. I have focussed the telescopic array onto the contact. On visual.”

The main viewer switched to a picture of a blackened, rent starship whose insides stared out through a plethora of breaches at naked space. Her hull was blasted into a cratered, moon-like expanse of twisted metal. Long stretches of unprotected internal volume shone piteously. She had been blown to pieces by uncounted torpedo hits and then burned till no silver metal remained.

Her basic lines and most notable details remained, however. The USS Endeavour slowly pushed herself through space at a dead crawl, propelled by her own, dim impulse drives. The crew of the Tenseiga stared in open amazement. Ben stabbed a finger toward the comm station.

“Smith, open hail!”

“Frequencies open, Captain.”

“Commodore Ford, this is Thomas on the USS Tenseiga! Please respond!”

The big soldier stood silent, bounding in his enthusiasm as he awaited the impossible response. After seeing the ship, the thought of Ford’s survival did not seem so far fetched. Thomas continued to gape at the viewer. Enthusiasm waned.

“Commodore Chevis Ford, can you read?”

“Now getting massive readings of Theta Band radiation.” Lieutenant Surall reported from the sensor console. “The ship has likely been bombarded by more than three days worth of heavy rads… Any human left aboard, unshielded…”

Thomas looked back to the brown skinned Vulcan woman. He didn’t feel any anger toward her for her words, but he felt as though she had betrayed him. He looked back to the wreck moving across the screen. “Helm, close in on her and pace her course. All sensors to ascertain Endeavour’s condition.”

“Aye.”

Ben faded into the back ground on his own bridge, slipping back and sliding down into his command chair. He did not want to think that his friend had fought to survive the Ya’wenn, then fought longer to save his ship…only to then die as she passed through waves of lethal radiation on her way out to clear space. Was Chevy over there…sitting in his own command chair…manning his bridge in an everlasting vigil?

How would Thomas handle the sight when he went over there…seeing his friend in that chair, or worse, laying in a heap on the deck? Well, Ben thought, whatever’s over there, I gotta see it.

Tenseiga caught up with the chugging hulk and fell in beside her. For all her dilapidation, Endeavour was still impressive in scale. She completely dwarfed the Akyazi-Class escort. The mere fact that the huge starship was still capable of self-motivation spoke chapters on her toughness.

“Theta radiation is leveling off,” Surall stated as they watched in respectful quiet. “I estimate she will be inhabitable within two point one seven days. I also read undamaged internal space. The bridge is compromised, but many sections of the saucer interior remain intact. Endeavour retains low level emergency power. Her impulse drive is operating on a pressure reversal from the phaser reserves.”

“Skipper had to work overtime to pull that one off.” Thomas thought aloud. “He would have needed several hours to rig that kind of system. Any chance he could have took another escape pod after he aimed the ship here?”

“No escape pods appear to have been launched after our departure.” The lieutenant responded. “I am unable to extensively scan the shuttle bays due to the remaining radiation. All bay doors show as closed.”

“We saw the old girl explode, right?” Helmsman Bronstien said suddenly. Breaking through his awed malaise, he turned away from his controls to look at his captain. “She blew up as we were running the hell away.”

Thomas glanced Surall’s direction. The Vulcan retargeted her visual array to the lower slope of Endeavour’s engine section. The hull there was pitted, cratered, and had massive sections missing, marring the once sleek lines.

“Her warp core has been ejected. Likely this was the origin of the blast we recorded.”

“Computer ejected the core...” Thomas said. He drew a challenging look from his science officer.

“The commodore may have ejected it before the automatic system initiated.”

“No…Chevy would have aimed it at the Ya’wenn if he’d done it by choice…” Ben regained his feet and circled his command chair. He halted aft, near the communications console. “Smith, signal Starbase 23. Report that we have found the Endeavour and she’s intact. Advise we’re gonna beam over a survey team to ascertain Commodore Ford’s…ultimate disposition.”

Smith nodded back. “Aye.”

Ben looked over to science once more.

“The radiation bad enough to pierce our EVA suits, Surall?”

“Indeed, Captain. RAD Suits from the engineering department would provide ample protection, however, despite the much shorter life-support resources.”

“RAD suits it is, then. Bronstien, Surall, you’re with me. Smith, you have the bridge. Get engineering to round up two repair teams to look Endeavour over.”

“Aye,” The comm officer said as he stood. He hesitantly took the conn and began to relay the orders down to engineering. Surall finished imputing a series of sensor commands and joined her captain and helmsman at the portside lift.
***

Hopefully this will generate some results

--thu guv!

[Czar Mohab]

I have to, now, go back and read 1-9. BUT, not having done that, I felt up to speed as it was.

Excellent read.

Czar Mohab

[Grim Reaper]

"There are FOUR LIGHTS!",

One of the best (imho) TNG eps. I wonder what has to be bartered for Ford, Picard was worth a cardassian strike fleet.

[Governor Ronjar]

I wonder what has to be bartered for Ford, Picard was worth a cardassian strike fleet.

Bartered?

Ah, you are not totally familiar with my characters. I'm glad to see this has you comparing it to one of your favorites. I liked that ep. too. I couldn't write this one without thinking back on that one. Something about the man who played Gorkon in STVI playing a villianous torture master... Ah...irony.

I'm also glad, Czar, that you didn't feel lost. I typically like to think of my stories as reasonably self-contained, thought these latest do heavily depend on those that came before. Makes me glad to see that someone can jump right in and still enjoy the tale. 1-9 are floating around here someplace...

Any who, I'll leave this one up for a might longer and post another CH. or two in about a week.

Thanks to those who've replied thus!
--thu guv!

[Grim Reaper]

I wonder what has to be bartered for Ford, Picard was worth a cardassian strike fleet.

Bartered?

yes Bartered

Ah, you are not totally familiar with my characters.

I'm not?

I'm glad to see this has you comparing it to one of your favorites. I liked that ep. too. I couldn't write this one without thinking back on that one. Something about the man who played Gorkon in STVI playing a villianous torture master... Ah...irony.

I agree!

Any who, I'll leave this one up for a might longer and post another CH. or two in about a week.

No GIMME MORE!

Thanks to those who've replied thus!
--thu guv!

you're welcome

[Governor Ronjar]

He he! You'll see what I meant about the bartered comment... Glad you're enjoying. Since you're waiting, here's another CH.

CH. 3





“Beam-in point, sir?”

Commander Thomas looked up from the round RAD helmet he was about to don to return the transporter tech’s quizzical expression. He paused for a moment. Beaming in just anywhere was liable to get them killed. He grinned wryly.

“Beam us directly to Auxiliary Control. We’re only gonna have about a minute, maybe two, to disengage the auto-destruct.” He told them.

Surall paused in her own helmet emplacement.
“Auto-destruct? There is no evidence that self destruct has been implemented.”

“No… What we’re gonna find over there is a tricorder set to passive search. As soon as we finish the transport cycle or dock a shuttle, the self-destruct system is going to start its countdown from either one minute, or two.” The captain told them. This information scared three of their engineers into slowing their advance toward the transport alcove. They looked to one another in concern.

Surall’s head cocked aside.

“How do you know this?”

“I know the Commodore…and it’s what I’d do.”

Thomas moved closer to the group of repair techs who were attaching the bulky, round helmets to their RAD suits. He looked over their air lines, bottles and temperature regulators. He checked their equipment, making sure they were as ready as they believed they were. Phaser pistols, web belts with basic gear, med kits, repair cases, flashlights. Everything they’d immediately need when they boarded the derelict Endeavour. Each of the young men and women checked out fine and he gave them an assured grin before putting on his own helmet.

“Alright, everyone. She’s a mess, so be on your toes.” He told them as he and Bronstien became the first to step up to the waiting pads. The smaller stature of this transporter room became nearly claustrophobic with the inclusion of their bulky suits and added equipment. None complained. Ben gave the tech a wave and the subspace gear behind and within the aft bulkhead began to whine, then throb with energy.

The first party of seven Tenseiga crew dissolved into a blue mist of energy, then reassembled in totally different surroundings. The Auxiliary Control room of Endeavour was totally dark for the first three seconds of their arrival. Then crimson tracers began to pulse and monitors flickered to life. Each could hear the general alarm barking. Ben looked to the science station along the starboard bulkhead. There, he found the tricorder he’d prophesied and the hard-wired connections leading from it to an open interface panel the commodore had jury-rigged by hand. A newly lit monitor just behind the standing tricorder showed a glowing counter which was counting backward from 59.

“Whoa, sh*t!”

Ben nearly tripped over a fallen piece of ceiling strata as he lurched into motion. RAD suits were no better at offering peripheral view than any other kind of environmental suit. He bobbled, but recovered, hopping in low gravity over blackened, gritty debris as he neared the science console. Ben was careful not to disturb the tricorder where it sat. Likely, Ford had rigged it with a charge to detonate when picked up. Ben ripped the glove off his right hand and placed it over the security ID panel on the console’s face. The system immediately began to swing into the process of identifying him.

“Thomas, Commander Benjamin R. Executive Officer. Identified.” The garbled computer voice told him. Ben leaned in to be heard.

“Computer, cancel auto-destruct sequence, Authorization: Thomas Beta 6175 Enable.”

“Voice print not recognized.”

Ben growled, then reached up to unsnap the connections holding his cover in place. Hopefully a few minutes of radiation wouldn’t prove too harmful… He laid the helmet on the station top. “Authorization: Thomas Beta 6175 Enable!”

“Authorization recognized. Does the Captain agree?”

“Commodore Ford is not available. Recognize Chief Science Officer.”

Surall, without being told or asked, had already doffed her helmet and right-hand glove. She slid in between Thomas and the console, planting her hand for the DNA scan. The security monitor began to cycle just before the scratchy lady’s voice stated: “Surall, Lieutenant. Chief Science Officer. Recognized.”

“General Authorization: Surall Beta Epsilon 77189 Enable.”

“Authorization accepted.” There was an unusual pause as the counter continued to pass 40 seconds. Tension caused Thomas to stiffen. Was the self-destruct system damaged? Finally the computer went on. “Second Authorization protocol…Implement original Destruct Codes.”

“sh*t!” Thomas cursed. “Destruct Cancel Sequence One, Code: 47-B.”

 A waiting symbol appeared on the console, and Thomas looked to the science officer. This destruct sequence belonged to the original system, and the codes had all been change two years prior when the system had been upgraded... Ford had reprogrammed the system to need both sets to ensure no one but his people reclaimed the ship. Did Surall even know the original code?

Surall surprised him by not pausing even an instant.

“Destruct Cancel Sequence Two, Code: 147-3…C”

“Destruct Cancellation Sequence completed and engaged. Awaiting final code to end countdown.”

“Code: Zero-Zero-Destruct…” Ben had to guess… Which destruct sequence had his friend used? He would normally ordered Code One to set off the warp core and the antimatter containment. But the core had been ejected… “Zero…”

“Destruct Sequence Aborted.” The blaring alarm halted mid-blast.

The counter had halted at 10. This was much closer than Thomas would have liked. Leaning away from the console and wary of further trickery, Thomas began to replace his helmet and glove. He had a wide and sarcastic smile on his face beneath the tinted screen of his visor. “Paranoid bastard!”

“The Commodore did go to extreme lengths to ensure this vessel did not fall into Ya’wenn hands.” Surall commented. Ben looked her over to make sure she had also replaced her helmet. She went on. “Likely we absorbed no more then fifteen rads within this compartment. I would not advise longer exposure, however."

Bronstien carefully stepped down from the upper level of consoles and halted at the slim, modern conn design that dominated the center of the room. This chair had originally been intended for the bridge, but Ford had been adamant about keeping his old chair. Davenport had ordered the yard birds to bring it down here. The young helm officer bent to pick up a coffee cup. Emblazoned on the side was a black skull and cross bones flag and the logo: “Don’t Piss Me Off, I’m Running Out of Places To Put The Bodies…”

“Skipper had the time to have a cup of coffee before he drove the ship out here. Should we search the CO cabin?”

Ben thought of the image of his friend laying peacefully on his bunk, maybe an empty hypo of sedative beside him to ensure he’d sleep through the radiation belt… He didn’t want to believe anything of the sort had occurred.

“Is there any place on this ship that could have withstood the Theta radiation? The nacelle control pods?” He asked.

Surall shook her head within the big helmet.

“Negative, Captain. The Control Pods are capable of withstanding only three hundred million rads. The storm Endeavour would have passed through far surpassed this level.” The woman slid easily into the empty, grit-streaked chair before the science console. She began to access the main systems and power them up.

“All external sensors are off-line. The ship is being guided on inertial navigation only. Internal sensors are dead…however, there is a data entry left by Commodore Ford. He left the ship aboard the shuttle pod Swordfish on Stardate: 9709.9…before Endeavour was likely to have entered the storm.”

“It’s 9710.5, now.” Ben thought aloud. “Chevy’s been gone four days. Could he not get out through another opening in the storm?”

Lieutenant Bronstien was the one to answer that.

“Navigations estimated that no other openings will form within a light year of here for another six days. Without warp drive, the Skipper wouldn’t be able to reach any where else.”

“And the shuttle pod left to him would not have had the deflector capacity to survive exiting through the plasma field.” Surall added.

Thomas repressed a growl and waited as Surall and the rest of his team assessed the condition of the ship. The engineering technicians had halted near the ODN trunks protruding from the aft bulkhead of the compartment. Just on the other side of the semi-circular shaped wall was the central core of the ship’s main computer. This would give them a direct tap into the ship’s governing systems and allow them to more fully diagnose this vessel’s condition.

“Main impulse fuel containment remains intact.” Surall continued with her report. “Half the reactors remain on stand-by status. The remainder have been deactivated. There may be some damage to the impulse reactor system, but the detection grid is damaged and cannot detail their condition. Life support has been shut down. Several air regenerators and regulators are offline. I am attempting to repower them to place them on stand-by. This will give us an onboard system for replenishing our limited air supplies.”

“Good.” Thomas stepped away from the science station. The gravity was spongy at best. The entire gravity array was likely burned up and operating on back up batteries. He hopped up to the conn platform and considered the command chair there.

Bronstien had taken the helm, which stood to the right of the conn, ten feet ahead. Operations was next to that, much like it would be found on the bridge, providing the plasma storm hadn’t claimed the bridge’s trappings. A call from science recaptured the commander’s attention.

“Sir, I have uncovered a recording from the Commodore.”

“Visual.” Ben replied, raising his eyes to the small, round-edged viewer that hung like an after thought on the fore bulkhead.

The screen belched light and wavered to life. A grainy image of the Commodore grew to life before them. He still wore only his white undershirt, bearing no symbol of rank. His clothes were grease stained, his pasty skin sweaty and dirt covered. He leaned tiredly into the science console where he’d recorded the message.

“If you’re watching this, then you’re definitely Endeavour officers. Anyone else would have towed the ship to the base an’ not boarded till the radiation faded. Either way, only Ben, Ron or Sharp knows me well enough to be able to shut down the destruct package.

“The ship is in sorry shape, and by the time you find her, she’ll be even worse off. I’ve linked the impulse drive to the phaser reserves to provide a power source the plasma storm can’t touch. The impulse reactors are too close to the outer hull… By the time she reaches the border, there won’t be an operable sensor left, so I’ve tied the helm to the inertial systems. I haven’t booby-trapped anything, so don’t worry about that. I figure the Ya’wenn would be unable enough just to get past the self-destruct gag. And no, there isn’t a bomb attached to the tricorder…

“I’m setting the old girl for the nearest point of clear space. I’ve gotten the shuttlepod Swordfish together in the time between Ya’wenn sightings. I’m not going to be able to keep the ship away from them. Jarn’s dead set on claiming Endeavour…” A cold shaft of realization pushed its way through Thomas. He saw Bronstien straightened also at the helm. After all their efforts, the Over Warden had survived the destruction of his own ship. “And I’m not about to let him get her. After I set Endeavour for Starbase 23, I’m going to take the shuttle and lead Jarn away. He won’t be able to track the ship…”

Resignation settled on the Commodore’s face as he looked into the camera.

“I’ll do my best to give him the slip. But I’d rather he capture me than get this ship. The last thing we need is his bunch getting this level of tech from the wreck… This is Commodore Chevy Ford…signing off.”

Thomas sat in silence as the recording ended. Ford had said little that they hadn’t already ascertained, save for the reason behind his departure. He hadn’t feared the radiation so much as he’d feared the chances of Jarn obtaining this ship. So he’d set Endeavour off on her own and taken the pod…

A sudden, violent realization took hold of the commander’s mind. He knew where he must look to find Chevis… He rigidly stood up and looked over to his officers. “Surall, get ready to go back to the ship. You’ll help Navigations set up a course for Kovarn.”

Johnathan rose from the helm and faced his captain. Conferring with Navigation was his duty, which meant Thomas had other intentions for him. Without seeing his face, the captain knew what the kid was thinking by his posture. “Bronstien, you’re taking command of Endeavour. Get her home.”

“Cap’n! I’m your acting XO—“

“An’ that’s why I’m leavin’ you here. You’re the one I gotta trust to get the girl home. If the enemy has tracked her here or captured Ford and gotten the intel on her location, then I’m relying on you do deny Endeavour to them.” Ben didn’t include the words ‘however you have to do it’…

Johnathan stood without moving for some moments, staring back. Then he nodded visibly. “Aye, aye, sir.” He replied, then turned back to face the main screen.
The commander left the lieutenant there and joined his science officer at the aft area. Ben withdrew his communicator and flipped it open. “Tenseiga, two to beam back.”



Lieutenant Bronstien watched his captain and the science officer beam away. He didn’t like knowing that Tenseiga was going into harm’s way without him at the helm. He liked being left to command a wreck even less.

With Thomas and Surall gone back to Tenseiga, he was left with the four engineering techs here at Aux. Con. and another seven of them crawling around in what was left of impulse engineering. His eyes fell to the conn at the room’s center. It stared back at him in challenge. This was his biggest command test yet. He looked to the most familiar of the engineers at his disposal.

“McCoy, let’s see if we can get the impulse drive going.”

“Aye, sir.” She replied. The specialist clambered up from where she’d been kneeling and snapped her diagnostic case shut. “I’ll get down there and head up the crew on the impulse deck. From here it looks like the control mechanisms and software are still intact. I’d still feel safer running the fusion systems on manual.”

Johnathan nodded back.

“Whatever you think is best, Spec. Get down there.”

“Aye, sir.”

Bronstien watched her go, then turned to the remaining engineers. They were still running the software through diagnostics and looking for malfunctions. “The rest of you knuckle-draggers get this place runnin’. I’m gonna see if I can get us some sensors.”

The lieutenant headed for the science station. He paused to consider the tricorder, which still sat atop the console’s main control board. It amused him that the tiny device might be their only remaining sensor device. Then another thought struck him. He looked back to the remaining engineers. “Juarez, get down to the shuttlebays and let me know what’s left.”

“Aye, sir.”

Bronstien thought the situation over, then sat down at the station. He picked up the tricorder and detached the wiring that led to it. He hadn’t wanted this duty. But he never turned away from a job he’d been given. He shook his head within the huge helmet and went on to draw up a long list of damaged sensor controls on the console before him.
***

Well, there's more to sate your appetite, Grim. More forthcoming next week. Hopefully some one other than you, me and the Czar will comment on this here gaggle of words in the meantime...

Also...+1 Karma to he who can tell me where the name of Thomas' ship originates from and what it was. La'ra cannot participate in this, as he has foreknowledge. +2 Karma to the person who Doesn't have to look it up on the net to answer...

--thu guv!

[Grim Reaper]

Nice one, the Destruct sequence and the vid message. Not 100% about the leaving the ship with our favorite helmsman though, i'd expect them to wait for an escort. Then again, the Thomas we know from previous stories would not wait so it's consistent. Perhaps a little more from the others (Surall perhaps) over the value and risk of losing the ship (again).

and  I cheated. It's because I'm not into japanese drawn fiction

[Commander La'ra]

Really liked that chapter.  Somehow it just seemed 'on', with lots of those little details I love so much.

The destruct sequence was pretty much what I expected, since that's probably exactly what you'd do.   Also loved the Commodore's assurance that their wasn't a bomb under the tricorder (though he said nothing about the oily rag in the hallway).  Favorite bit, though, was Thomas checking over all his posse's air hoses and such prior to beam over.  The way his inspiration's loyalty level could translate into protectiveness is something we hadn't seen from the big guy yet.

Keep 'em comin'.

[Governor Ronjar]

I would figure in a more real world, checking over their equip before deployment would be a standard thing...not that we ever see it on Trek save for like 1 time on ENT. The idea that Thomas was the one to do it, on the other hand, was my way of both showing that it WAS infact done, and that Thomas wanted to be the one to do it for his own satisfaction.

And I seriously thought about the oily rag...

To Grim, if you ain't cheatin' you ain't winnin'. +1 Karma for you. And, yeah, another CO might have stayed close by Endeavour to ensure her returning home. But, Thomas has a reason to be in a hurry. An upcoming Sharp scene might clarify it for you. Aside from that, he's totaly confident that Bronstien will blow the ship sky high should the Ya'wenn come to get her. And, of course, you're very much right about his concistency. I imagine Andy will have much beratement for him 

thanx both!
--thu guv!

[Governor Ronjar]

CH. 4





Over Warden Jarn looked down with disdain at the heap of pitiable humanity that lay in the metal-framed chair. The chair had been brought in for Ford to support his weight while his men questioned him. He could no longer hold himself up to prevent strangulation while hanging from the chains.

The smell in the dank room had worsened in the hours since Jarn had left. Ford was covered in dried sweat and piss. He hadn’t given up without a fight. The info hadn’t come without a cost. Saliva ran freely down the commodore’s stubbled chin. His glassy eyes goggled up at the Ya’wenn jailer. A wave of anger washed over the human. He spat out a garbled curse and flailed violently.

“I’m very sorry, Ford. I never wanted to see you this way,” The warden crooned mockingly. There was a shadow over his eyes that told that his composure was an act. “Just tell me what you told my boys here and it’s all over.”

Jarn wasn’t sure what the curses the Federation commander hurled out at him meant, but he was sure they would have angered another human. The Ya’wenn leaned in close, despite the smell, and asked again. Ford’s eyes rolled away. One of Jarn’s men cranked up the voltage on the electrodes leading to the base of Ford’s skull. The commodore made a noise likened to a squeal.

“Hhrr-uuhhh--- Not far from the battle sight--- Bearing for Starbase 23---Aaahhh---heading 157 mark 144---hhaaa…”

Jarn looked away in unconcealed disgust. He knew he could figure out the Starfleet navigation standards with the Klingon database he had on hand. The Klingons had gathered a great deal of information about their enemies in the Federation. Jarn would put this intel to good use in the future. He’d discern the majority of the location while en route to the sight of their battle.

“Keep our guest alive until my return. Feed him intravenously. If his information proves to be good, we’ll put him out of his misery then.”

The Ya’wenn prisoners nodded enthusiastically and turned the machines they managed off slowly. Jarn cast a final look upon his adversary, then stomped out of the sublevel.
***





Lieutenant Commander Davenport turned away from the Strategic Command board that dominated the operations center of Starbase 23. The report detailed in his hand was not going to make Admiral Sharp happy. He hoped to have a few minutes to figure out how to present the data PADD in his hand. No such luck was to be had today, however. Jonathan Sharp stood directly behind him as he turned to face the command office.

“Another report from Tenseiga?” He intoned.

Ronald nodded in response, but held onto the PADD a moment longer. Sharp noted his hesitation.

“Further word on Endeavour’s condition?”

“They report she’s salvageable, Admiral.” Davenport replied. At last, Sharp extended a heavily lined brown hand and the chief of operations handed the pad over. He mentally winced as the older officer read the report over. Sharp looked back into Ron’s eyes.

“He’s a mad man.” The admiral said in such a light voice that no one else overheard. Ronald felt the compulsion to agree with the flag officer, but he also understood Thomas’s motives. “Tenseiga won’t last ten minutes in a fire fight against the Ya’wenn Kovarn fleet. What the hell is he thinking?”

“He’s going to get his friend back.”

“He won’t make it…and he’ll take even more people with him. I take it Thomas took advantage of the twenty-five second comm delay between the border and here?”

“Yes he did.”

“And his ship’s already inside the Tempest…” Sharp didn’t require an answer to that last. He knew Ben Thomas wouldn’t have waited around for Sharp to have the chance to order him not to try his rescue operation. He was wondering if he were going to regret allowing Thomas back on active duty after the Shiloah incident. That attack, back when they’d all believed Shiloah was a fleet officer, had shown just how easily he could fly off the handle. “How soon can we send support?”

Ron cleared his throat.

“Comanche is back on patrol, all battle damage repaired. T’pol is fully operational and also on patrol, but she’s without her main sensor pod. Command says we won’t get another of those any time soon. So she’s an under armed fast cruiser right now… Yorktown and Eldridge remain in dry-dock. The Shran, Kiev and Le Resolute are all out on patrol and have been since the day after the battle.”

“Which are the closest to the Kovarn section?”

“Le Resolute is the closest, but since we pulled back to a farther perimeter, it will take her seventeen hours to even reach the plasma boundary. Then over a day to reach Kovarn if the Tempest behaves. And, if we pull Le Resolute, that leaves only the Shran covering a mighty large hole in the patrol grid.”

“Order Le Resolute to move to within three light minutes of the Tempest nearest the Kovarn section. She is not to enter the Tempest unless she receives word from the Tenseiga. Launch the remaining escorts to assist the Shran.”

Ronald reclaimed his PADD and began to take the necessary notes. As acting Strategic Operations Officer, it was his duty to see to the deployment of the ships under 23’s command. He’d taken to the job well after being the chief of shipboard operations for some time already. To him, it really just amounted to relaying someone else’s decisions and offering opinions.

“Tetsusaiga is already deployed and will get there in twenty hours or so.” He told the admiral as he began to move toward the communications deck. “Tokijin and So’unga will take about an hour to ready for launch and can be there in just over thirty.”

Sharp took the travel figures under advisement and remained in silent contemplation as Davenport began to relay operational orders to the comm officer on duty. He looked about the circular operations center at the sea of maroon uniformed officers and white-shouldered enlisted personnel. Sharp was the Chief of Starfleet Operations, but for some time now, he’d been forced by circumstance and necessity to remain here and personally handle things in the wake of the Shiloah incident. He wasn’t used to front line duty any more. He’d grown soft and accustomed to issuing orders from Earth. Now he was back out in the Frontier again. Next to the Klingon Neutral Zone and this area bordering the newly found Ya’wenn. It was somewhat exhilarating to be back out here, even if he was only aboard a space station, directing traffic.

The admiral studied each of the men and women he commanded. They were fine examples of everything Starfleet and the Federation had to offer. His orders, when issued from Earth, often affected people just like them way out here on the front line. He found his experience of coming out here, serving with them, to be a good, learning one. Perhaps he’d issue a mandate that all Staff Officers tour the Frontiers more often. It was well within his sphere of influence.

“Orders relayed, Admiral.” Ron was calling out from the comm section. “Will you want to have a briefing with the escort commanders before their departure?”
Jon nodded back.

“I’ll go and see them one on one. Don’t schedule anything official. Are both ships fully outfitted?”

“Aye, sir.”

Sharp left off without further comment and headed for the turbolift that would take him to the outer docking ring. Ron watched him go, noting the tension that was again growing in the older man’s still broad shoulders. Sharp had been in the fleet a good long time; worn four versions of the uniform, served on a dozen ships and commanded three of them. The age and the wear sometimes showed on him. But he continued on, never slowing.

Davenport wondered if the man would ever get enough of the service. Would Ronald himself be able to serve that long? And if so, what would his view of the world and the galaxy be like? Indeed, what would those views be like once the Ya’wenn crisis was resolved?

The commander shrugged mentally. No one could answer such questions. His most immediate worry was for the crew of Tenseiga and his Skipper, Commodore Ford. Would the commodore be retrieved alive, and if so, in what condition? He worried that Thomas was leading his ship into too great a battle.

Did the newly minted captain truly realize what he was getting into?






Commander Ben Thomas leaned in to rest his great bulk on his elbows, bearing all his weight on the silver conference table that took up nearly all the space within the narrow room. His remaining senior staff was gathered here, ready to discuss the trial ahead. To his left was the ship’s chief engineer, Lieutenant Genevieve LeCreaux. Right was Lieutenant Tomi Kurita, his weapons officer. The two of these, with Lieutenant Surall, represented the highest-ranking officers onboard.

“To clarify the issue,” Ben started out, a meaty hand closing on a coffee mug set before him by the senior yeoman. “Lieutenant Surall is the acting XO till Bronstien returns. She’s the only one I won’t have to move from a critical position to cover the job if I’m not available.”

Surall took the queue and activated a strategic map of the Kovarn star system. The entire solar body was littered with dense collections of asteroids and floating meteors. Drifting masses of the plasma storms wandered in at odd angles to wash into their sun’s gravity. Kovarn was the sixth planet in the system, and swam in the thickest field of the debris.

“Our approach to the Kovarn prison world is going to be one rough bitch.” Thomas told them all. The junior helm officer blanched visibly as she looked at the closeness of the swirling belts. “We estimate anywhere from ten to twenty enemy warships will be in system, with an unknown variable in the number of allied vessels that might assist. We’re gonna need more than vas—“

Ben stopped himself. Many of the young officers before him already knew what he had been about to say. Hell, they all knew it. Even the bland look on Surall’s face had given way to slight surprise in his sudden and profound restraint. Thomas marveled over the change himself. Normally he’d have just spouted the comment without thinking.

“It’s…gonna be tight. A single ship can’t fight ‘em.”

The chief of security was thus far the only one among them confident enough to broach a comment or question. He inclined his head to catch his captain’s eye. “So what do we do?”

“We run all the way in at warp, an’ beam in a team… One single team to break the commodore out and get him to where we can beam him out of there.” Thomas watched as the idea sank in on them. The most obvious problems with this plan became obvious to Kurita first.

“When we slow to impulse for the beam in, the enemy will catch up with us. We will be caught in orbit, and we’ll be without shields when we try to beam our team in.”

Ben looked evenly at the dark haired man. He couldn’t have been more than twenty-five at the most. But he was good. Thomas had read his file. “We’re not gonna slow down from warp speed…at least, not for long.”

Surall filled in the rest.

“Near warp transport, implemented through ‘touch-and-go-down-warping.’”

The helmsman, Bronstien’s number two person aboard this ship, gaped in shock.

“That’s…really, really…very dangerous!”

Captain Thomas didn’t avert his eyes from the girl.

“Can you do it, Ensign?”

“I…”

“Can you do it?”

A certain kind of resolve formed on the young officer’s face.

“I’m the best you have, Captain.”

Thomas nodded to her. He liked Ensign Allison Torres. Her inexperience led to self-doubt, but this was a common enough plague among any newby. She was already dealing with it by admitting she was the only one here capable of the duty.

“According to your file, you’re right. Petty Officer Larami will be on Nav to help out. He doesn’t have the piloting marks you do, but he’s experienced.” Ben assured. Somehow, he was really beginning to feel the part of the Starfleet captain. This was his ship, and though temporary, these were his people. He could get this job done, and these would be the people to help him.

“Now,” With a point to the science officer, Ben drew the officers’ attention back to the star map before them in the table’s center and the line being highlighted leading in toward Kovarn. “We’ll approach from the viscinity of the eighth planet, a gas giant with severe radiation bursts. That will mask a lot of our insertion. With any luck, we’ll be able to get within three light minutes of the planet without detection. We’ll approach slow, both to mask our warp signature with the planet’s radiation fields and to manipulate how the enemy comes in at us if they do detect us. I want ‘em to bunch, start taking up formations. Then we kick it up to high warp and evade them. We’ll maintain best speed till we make orbital approach and initiate emergency deceleration. We’ll be at sub-impulse for about two seconds.”

The engineer wound up the nerve to broach the next concern.

“With this kind of approach, we’re looking at energizing transporters while the ship is still at warp. Timing is going to be everything.” She said. Ben loved her light, almost imperceptible, French accent. It had taken him a while to recognize the sound of it, but, combined with her name, he’d finally made the connection. “We’re going to have to energize four point three-six seconds before decel.”

“That’s why you’re gonna be at the transport console when me and my guys beam down.”

Kurita turned a disbelieving eye on his CO.

“You’re… leading the team, sir?”

Thomas didn’t have to respond. Surall made the most obvious observation on the matter for them.

“Captain Thomas is the only man aboard ship with the experience in combat raids to make this venture a successful one. With him will be two noncoms drawn from your security contingent, Lieutenant. Mathers, a former marine, and Gentry, the most skilled among your riflemen.”

Kurita seemed offended.

“Not me?”

Thomas smiled.

“I need you to make sure I have a ship to pick my ass up off the planet when I get Ford back. The return trip ain’t gonna be so easy. Now…this is what Surall and me have come up with so far…”
***

No barterin' in this story, folks.
Let's see what y'all think of it...

--thu guv!

[Czar Mohab]

All I have to say right now is that it looks as if more than Endeavor will be in a not-so-happy condition when this is over. And they'd better have a nice warm clean change of clothes for Ford, and perhaps some febreeze?

Again, as I said before, I don't feel left out of the loop. Without looking back at 1-9, I know a lot about them already.

This promises to have a great conclusion, and even though I don't think it is written yet, that conclusion might just leave enough open for a great sequel.

Czar Mohab

[Governor Ronjar]

All hail the Czar!

Actually...I'm writing story number 15 in this series. #10 has been done since January 25th. I spit out an average of one story a month. My record was Story #11: White Rabbits, which I started on January 26th and finished Feb 12th. It's almost as long as this one. When I get on a roll...I roll.

And yeah...they gonna need some xtra strength febreeze...

--thu guv!

[Scottish Andy]

Hey Guv,

Sorry for being away for so long recently. Been on another forum, building a couple of shuttlecarriers, and playing Gears a lot.

First off, this story is fantastic. Learning that Ford was still alive... that the huge antimatter explosion was indeed the warp core but it just happened to be outside of the ship when it blew... Thomas being in command of one of those hot little Akyazi-class PA ships... then heading off on a rescue mission where he shows brains...

Su-f*cking-perb!

I absolutely love this line:

Was Chevy over there…sitting in his own command chair…manning his bridge in an everlasting vigil?

Gave me a spine shiver. Seriously.

I really do appreciate Thomas growing up a bit. Instead of merely raging against the machine, he's planning his rage and considering it's implications. Being the one in charge forces you to take more stock of the possible consequences, I suppose. No final layer of insulation when you become Captain.

I have an Akyazi in my shiplist and was going to do stories on her as well, but I can't down and churn out stories like you can. And they're so good! Majorly jealous.

Can't wait to read more.

[Scottish Andy]

P.S. I love the Czar's sig quote from Londo and Vir.

[Governor Ronjar]

CH. 5





Commodore Ford roused to wakefulness under protest beneath the dim lights of his prison. The diffuse illumination shed by the single bulb high above was enough to send torrents of pain through the junior flag officer’s retinas. It hurt to open his eyes.

He hurt. He did not have the energy to move, nor even to rouse himself of his own will. Ford felt ready to give in and die. But something had awakened him. What was different? What had drawn him from the blissful dark, back to this hell?

It had better be damn well worth it, he thought.

His head swam. Was he up side down? Was he being hoisted over someone’s shoulder? Was he moving? Yes, he was. A Ya’wenn prisoner had tossed him over his shoulder. Ford coughed up thick fluid that almost gagged him. The prisoner who had him apparently noticed, and began to lay him on the cold, dirty floor. Ford sagged into a heap of torn flesh and broken bone. He looked up to the grey skinned man.

The alien leered back.

“I almost thought you’d died on me. I was going to lay you on the table…” The alien looked down, as though something interesting had drawn his eye. He withdrew a long, sharp and familiar blade from his belt. Ford gagged again in apprehension.

“Is this your knife?” The prisoners asked mockingly. “I hear you killed several of my fellow Ya’wenn with it. Jarn made it a gift to me…for caring for you.”

He flipped the eighteen-inch Bowie around, looking the ten-inch blade over with begrudging respect. “It’s an interesting design. As much knife as it is sword. I’ll bet you fight with it like it was a short-sword, yes?”

Ford’s head lolled, his right hand tumbled down from his hip to the unforgiving duracrete deck. That was when he noticed what had awakened him. He now knew what the difference was…for the first time since he’d been brought here…

Ford smiled. The Ya’wenn caught the curvature of the grotesquely swollen lips and leaned in close, the gleaming tip of the blade just beneath the commodore’s eye. The prisoner returned the smile.

“You like this weapon? Do you want it back?”

“No…” Ford returned, voice the ghost of a crackle. “You keep it… By the way…you forgot to retie my hands!”

Ford’s right thumb jerked out in a straight-line motion and jabbed deep into the alien’s left eye. There was a gushy pop beneath the thumb-tip even as the Ya’wenn began to scream. Ford’s remaining fingers grasped a hold on the alien’s ruddy face, his left hand grabbed the back of the alien’s shaggy head, and he pushed the thumb ever deeper into the socket. The squealing alien grabbed at Ford’s hands, trying to tear them away as he scrabbled backward. The human’s digit smashed through the thin, honeycomb-like bone behind the eye and shoved sharp debris into the alien’s brain. The prisoner drew stiff, his shrill scream cutting off suddenly. He fell into the human, about to die.

Before the Ya’wenn expired, he plunged Ford’s own knife deep into his guts.
***





Xia Tolin glanced up over her small meal to her beau, Ron Davenport. Her human partner was entirely focussed on the consumption of his own dinner: Italian style meatloaf, mashed potatoes, gravy and green bean casserole. Since the supposed destruction of their ship, duty had been the only thing to keep most of the survivors from going crazy. They’d lost a lot of people in that battle. They’d lost their homes and their skipper.

Admiral Sharp had given every man of them who remained in his right mind a job here on Starbase 23. He’d kept them busy. It was the best medicine. It kept people from dwelling on how close they’d been to dying out there. But, like so many medicines, the side effects were just as trying.

No one had the time to resume even a shadow of their regular lives. Their routines, their trained duties…all of those were in limbo. It made getting up every morning so surreal. Nothing seemed right, from their new duties to their current surroundings. This was not the Endeavour.

All of this had led Davenport and Tolin to spending less and less time together. They had forced their schedules into linking tonight. To make time for the other. But, now that they were finally together at the same table, neither had really spoken a word. Both were too tired to try and come up with conversation. They just ate and gave in to their worn out minds, bodies and spirits. Ron’s shoulders were slumping so much he resembled an Andorian Rijak, a native animal of her world renown for its slim shoulders and long neck. These creatures had such small shoulder mass that one could never build a harness to fit them.

“This is sad.” Xia said when she could stand it no more.

Ron looked up, surprised and worried at the same moment.

“What?”

“We don’t have the damn time to do anything more than eat a damn meal together. You spend all day in Ops while I’m out working on the Yorktown! We had to force Personnel to schedule us together and who knows how long it’ll be before we get even this much time together again!”

Ron seemed to soak this in like a plant drinking water. He just looked ahead, eyes slightly averted from hers, and thought it over. Then he met her gaze. “Yup.”

“Yup? That’s all you can say?”

No matter what species the female belonged to, certain things set each of them off. Short, uninvolved answers seemed to work for the majority of them. Especially when pertaining to issues they felt strongly about. Ron could either take the bait, or think and diffuse the ticking bomb. He decided he was far too tired to twist at the end of her line.

“I’ll talk to the Admiral. When Endeavour’s brought in, I’ll make sure we head the reconstruction crew. Then we’ll see enough of each other to make you sick of seeing me.”

Xia gave him a brittle smile that was ore show than truth.

“You think he’ll salvage Endeavour?”

“If Johnathan’s report is anywhere close to the truth, she’s not in that bad of shape. Mostly needs hull repair and a new core. The coils check out moderately damaged, the impulse drive is operational and the power grid still functions. If the structure is intact, we can rebuild her.”

“And if the structure’s compromised,” Tolin finished with a dark sarcasm in her light voice, “Then we get to rip out all those working parts for salvage and we tow the ship off to Ralna Four Depot.” She looked back up at him suddenly. “What happens to us then?”

“That’s up to Sharp. He doesn’t know about us, so I’d have to tell him so he’d be able to post us on the same ship…”

“Will he do that? A lot of CO’s like to split up dating officers.”

Davenport looked up and out the viewports of the small base restaurant and thought in silence. When he looked back to her, it was with firm confirmation in his eye. And a soft smile. “Well, if they try to split us up, I’ll resign.”

Xia returned the smile, at first thinking that her man was only joking. When the human’s pink face grew more stern and serious, she sobered. Her own cobalt eyes widened. Was he…really saying what she thought he was?

“You’re serious?”

“Yeah… I am. I’d resign.”

“To follow me? Just to be near my post?”

“Well, I was more hopin’ there’d be a more mutual act of support. Like maybe you’d…”

Her smile matched his own.

“Offer the same threat?”

“At least.”

Xia reached across the small table and patted Ron on the cheek.

“You’re cute, Sparky. But you’re not that cute. We can’t go that far. So don’t you dare… Understand?” She stared into his soft eyes and withdrew her small hand. Ron seemed to consider her words, then looked down sheepishly at the table. How serious had he really been in his offer to leave his career behind, she wondered. And had she crushed him by letting him know she would not do the same for him? She decided to change the subject.

“How is Sharp planning to get Endeavour back here? Without warp drive she’ll need a space tow.”

“Sharp’s pulling a ship in from Sector 12 to get the job done. She’s outfitted for the tow.” Ron said. He looked vaguely uncomfortable now, but whether this was due to their earlier conversation or the fact that he was not allowed to discuss sector operations outside of the command staff was unclear. “We’re leery, though, because we don’t have the escorts we’d normally use in this situation.”

Tolin nodded, briefly considering bringing up the other topic again. She did not want Ronald to believe her feelings for him weren’t strong. She envisioned a long relationship with him. Very long…

For the first time, she found herself wondering just what the future would bring the two of them. Did their remaining together rely totally on the resurrection of the Endeavour? If she was to be scrapped, could they find a posting together on another ship? And how accommodating would another commanding officer be to their relationship? How could they have that long lasting relationship she wanted…if she wasn’t willing to give up something that important?

Xia found herself dwelling on this subject as the two of them continued their dinner.





Lieutenant Bronstien settled the small shuttlecraft he piloted onto the forward hull of the wrecked starship Endeavour. He initiated a series of magnetic locks to secure the pod to the cratered bow, just above Whiskers’ compartment. Once assured that his craft was not going to float off into space, the helm officer keyed open the comm link to his comrades within the Excelsior’s ravaged insides.

“Shuttle pod Jet in position. Got the ODN data link ready yet?”

“Affirmative, LT.” Came the scratchy voice from the interior speakers. Johnathan believed he was speaking with Specialist Green. Sounded like him, anyway. “We have a computer link to your shuttle.”

“Tying shuttle sensors into Endeavour’s computer…” Bronstien replied slowly. This was not his forte, but the process was reasonably simple so long as you had all of the access codes. It took him only a few seconds of plunking at the keys on the ops panel beside him to achieve the link. “What’re you reading down there?”

“We have input… Sensor control coming online.”

Johnathan tapped a few more keys to stabilize the link against the radiation’s interference. Done, he stood and detached his small air module from the regenerator in the pod’s after compartment. This auxiliary craft was a tiny one, and it’s rear section held little more than a bench for two passengers and some equipment linkages. It had a roof mounted airlock mechanism for hard docking with larger ships, but the magnetic grapnels he’d needed to secure the pod to the hull were on the bottoms of the impulse nacelles. He would either have to EVA out to an airlock, which was not possible in a RAD suit, or beam back. This shuttle did not have an emergency transporter. Only the newest of the larger shuttles possessed those, and none of those remained aboard the great ship. John flipped open his communicator.

“McCoy, do you have transporter power yet?”

The reply of the senior spec on his team came back swiftly.

“Negative as yet, Lieutenant. We’re still trying to scrape up enough capacitor power to get a pad working.” She told him. He’d been trapped on a devastated shuttle deep within the Tempest plasma storms with this woman some months back. She’d proven her skills as an engineer at that time so solidly that he didn’t even feel frustrated at being stuck out here in the Jet. If she told him she wasn’t ready yet, then he’d just have to wait.

“Understood, Spec. Take your time, I’m startin’ to like the view…” Bronstien’s eye drew out the port window to the sloping stretch of torpedo blasted hull panels and jutting structural girder work. He could see the blackened spider webbing of the ship’s internal frame in one stripped place. He immediately felt a wave of sorrow for the damaged ship. For all intents and purposes, this ship had been his home. Hell, his possessions were likely still inside his cabin. That portion of deck four seemed more or less intact.

Seeing the wreckage of the hull and knowing how many of his former crewmates lay dead within her corridors brought unwelcome thoughts and emotions to the surface. He didn’t want to keep looking out there. But he could not stop himself. It held an almost mesmerizing quality…

A surprising tone from the main panel started the lieutenant and brought him back to the ‘cockpit’. He slid uncomfortably back into the pilot’s seat, setting his big helmet in the ops seat. There was a red, flashing indicator on the sensor relay monitor. A chill shot down his sweat soaked back.

The sensors had just detected the transponder frequency of a Ya’wenn warship.

Johnathan swallowed, again keying his still open communicator.

“McCoy, I need a transporter! We’ve got unhappy visitors coming in!”

“Ya’wenn?”

“Yeah! Beam me the f*ck back aboard!”

“I only have about seventy percent power. Give me two minutes!”

Bronstien checked the sensor monitors. How long did he have till they entered weapons range? The pod had a maximum detection range of just over a light year if the array was pointed right. He queried the system for the accurate distance. Point eight-one light years, approaching at warp factor five. They’d be here in seventeen hours. His initial panic had been uncalled for, but he felt little better of the situation.

He brought the communicator back to his dry lips.

“Go ahead and charge the transporter to full, Specialist. We’ve got more breathing room than I thought. But you might think about gettin’ some guys to unpack a few more shuttle pods from the hangers. We might need ‘em.”
***

You read, you reply...then I post more!
There's ya some more. I'm very glad it has been enjoyed, so far. Also Very happy that Andy approves slightly of Thomas' sudden blooming of maturity. And you're exactly right. He lighted upon the BIG SEAT and had to act the part of Captain. And he'll be a very dangerous one at that.

Well, any way...off to see what everyone else has to say...

--thu guv!

[Commander La'ra]

Movin' right along, I see. 

This is the stage of the story where I really don't have that much to say, it being in the middle and all.  So far though, I'm noticing that, unlike 'normal' Trek, your characters still appear to be capable of functioning when not surrounded by other main cast members.   Davenport and Xia seem unhappy with their new surroundings, but they haven't just shut down...Thomas and Surall and company on the Tenseiga seem driven to rescue Ford, but they also seem to be adapting well to a new ship and crew...especially Thomas.  Interested to see if Commander Thomas keeps his little hot rod after this one...

The 'time together' issue with Davenport and Xia was very realistically done, too.  Liked how you handled that.

[Scottish Andy]

Yeah, I agree with Larry about the Xia-Davenport dynamic, and the separated cast circumstances overall. I think one of the things Trek fiction can do that the shows don't is exactly this: split them up and let them shine on their own or in smaller groups. It's kinda like early TOS where we see Sulu and Uhura's other friends in the Rec Room, bit part players that actually have their own lines. It shows they characters have a life outside of the framework of the main show.

And Guv, I'm don't "approve slightly" of Thomas' command maturity, I approve wholeheartedly! Hell, I may even begin to like the guy now that he's not off in his own ferociously loyal, f*ck everyone else world. He's a good character and plot driver, it was just that his more extreme behaviours rubbed me the wrong way.

I look forward to seeing more of the T'n'T Team! More Akyazi Action! Yeah! 

[Governor Ronjar]

I look forward to seeing more of the T'n'T Team! More Akyazi Action! Yeah! 

Oh, you'll be gettin' some Akyazi-Action! Don't you worry. Tenseiga makes a good showing of herself in this one.

Nothin at all to say about Ford gettin plugged in the guts? The scene actually came from a dream I had, though the dream turned out better.

More 2 cum soon.

--thu guv!

[Czar Mohab]

Great work so far Guv. can't wait to see the conclusion

Czar "more more more" Mohab, who looks forward to more.

[Grim Reaper]

this owns

[Commander La'ra]

It's kinda like early TOS where we see Sulu and Uhura's other friends in the Rec Room, bit part players that actually have their own lines. It shows they characters have a life outside of the framework of the main show.

We once had a Star Trek RPG where a friend of ours wanted to play a complete redshirt.  So we came up with a small 'game within a game' for him.  The Guv, who was running the thing, decided that the redshirt could eventually become a main cast member.  For every game Ensign Ricci survived, he got some new little 'bonus', until, finally, he was main cast, with the slightly greater chance of survival that that entailed.  Until that point, however, the GM would actively try to kill him.

One of the earlier perks (3 sessions survived, I believe) was the 'Nameless NPC friend'.

[Governor Ronjar]

Ensign Ricci was the sh*t. Still got all those characters too. It's ready to go any time we are. But, anyway...

Time for the action to begin...


CH. 6





“We have cleared the plasma belt, Captain.” Ensign Allison Torres reported to her CO. At her side, Petty Officer Jason Larami called out the confirmation in a very by-the-book manner. A more relaxed and well-worn bridge crew might not have bothered.  Despite their very apparent skill, this crew was not timeworn or seasoned.
Captain Thomas didn’t seem to mind or even notice. He just nodded back to Torres with a near undetectable smile and looked back to the main viewer. There, a blue and green, spheroid swirl was growing larger as the Tenseiga moved in at warp factor four toward the eighth planet in the Kovarn starsystem. Small asteroids littered the path ahead and could be seen being batted away by the main deflector field. He’d have preferred to scour the way ahead with his active long-range scanners, but stealth was the key at this juncture of the mission. He could ill afford drawing the Ya’wenn defender’s attention too soon. He’d just have to fly in without a clear picture of the road ahead.

The helm began to draw Tenseiga’s course farther a port in what would have been a classic slingshot maneuver if speed had been a worry. Ben watched as the swirling gas giant encompassed the majority of the view screen and tried not to seem uncomfortable as he sat in the somewhat narrow command chair while wearing his tactical armor. He, like the men awaiting him in the transporter room, was prepped and ready to deploy. All they needed was his order.

They began to slide quickly past the gas giant. The tug of its gravity could be felt pulling at their ship through the artificial gravity fields. That planet was no less than three hundred times the size of Earth.

“Captain,” Surall called out suddenly from her post at the science station. “Now detecting an E/M signature approaching from starboard. Bearing 077 degrees mark 065.” She paused to look at the swirling indicator on her waterfall display. “I believe it to be an active sensor array!”

“sh*t!” The captain blurted. “They get a return?”

“Unknown…”

Without knowing even what was out there scanning for them, Thomas could either be bold and try to continue with his stealth gambit, or he could play it safe by raising his ship’s shields. And there wasn’t a whole lot of time to think about it…

“Shields up! Red Alert!”

The repetitive bark of the alert klaxon sounded as the lighting died down to combat level. The bridge was immediately bathed in flashing red tracers. The crew had already assumed their stations before exiting the plasma storms. Ben waited to see what response their sudden energy increase would spawn.

He didn’t have to wait long.

“Incoming!” Surall called off.

Tenseiga shook hard, plunging to port as a beam weapon slammed into her rear screens. Damage alarms began to wail and an inexperienced ensign at the starboard weapons console lost his seat to tumble to the deck. He got an angry look of disapproval from his senior weapons officer as he clambered back into the chair. Lieutenant Kurita looked back to his CO after the visual reproach.

“Aft shields down to fifty-seven percent!”

Thomas resisted the urge to call for auxiliary power to the shields. This ship didn’t have much extra to go around. He’d just have to sweat it out and hope the shields held. “Helm, increase to maximum warp!”

There went my plan, Thomas groused mentally. Something Ford often said came to mind, about the best plans never surviving contact with the enemy. He didn’t even know what had found him yet. He glared out toward science. “What’s out there, Lieutenant!”

Surall was turning her chair from monitor to monitor as she worked her scanners. Much of her displays showed little more than static or confusing patterns. Her eyes were squinted more than Thomas had ever seen a Vulcan allow. “I have yet to ascertain the disposition of our current enemy, Captain. But given the weaponry employed… Correction! Ya’wenn escort vessel now emerging from the radiation field. They are attempting to match our speed!”

“Now passing warp factor eight.” Came from navigations. Thomas knew the Ya’wenn weren’t nearly as fast as modern Starfleet vessels. The Akyazi-Class had been uprated years ago to keep pace with the newer Excelsior and Belknap-Class starships.

That escort had possessed the advantage for a few moments. It had likely been sitting motionless in orbit, or at the most traveling at low impulse when it had detected the Tenseiga. The Federation ship had been easy to find while shooting through at warp four, even with the Ya’wenn’s less advanced sensor tech. Ben had not counted on an enemy ship being so close to the radiation field orbiting the eighth planet. Jarn, however, had seen the strategic disadvantage there and placed a ship there to cover it.

“Go full active, Surall.” Thomas ordered. “What else is out there and where are they?”

Th science officer turned her chair a bit and focussed on sending out her scan. A screen before her filled itself with flashing red blips and solid yellow counters. “There are over one hundred vessels of various design present in-system, Captain. In our immediate viscinity, three other escort class vessels are turning to engage us and accelerating to low warp to intersect our course. Two others have increased power output and are in standard orbit of Kovarn.”

Kovarn Six, their destination, was nearly halfway across the system from them, but at this warp factor, they’d be there in less than a minute. Ben had to get down to the transporter room. “Helm, take a wide course to give us time.” He ordered as he stood and made for the lift. “Surall, you know what to do!”

“Aye, Captain.” The acting exec replied as she smoothly relinquished her seat to a subordinate and assumed the conn. This would be the senior lieutenant’s first combat command experience, but with no more trepidation than she displayed as Thomas left the bridge, no one would have guessed. “Stand by photon torpedoes.”

Kurita took his queue to move to the starboard tactical console, replacing the junior officer there. He brought up the target tracking controls and began preliminary work on the difficult shot that lay just moments ahead. Surall looked on in silence as the crew did their job. Her eyes remained locked on the port and starboard tactical status boards as their ship took a curving course toward their destination. The two orbiting ships would be the greatest worry. One of them had already rounded the planet and broken sensor contact. The other would in very few seconds. The intersecting craft had been thrown off by their sudden trajectory change that had them taking a parabolic path toward the sixth planet. Reacting to the maneuver was forcing them to spread out…

The Vulcan lieutenant began to count down from twenty-seven seconds.





Thomas rounded the final turn amid his ship’s compact corridors and entered the small transporter chamber. There, his two waiting noncoms were already assembled on the platform. Mathers had his helmet, a thick shell covered in drab grey and flat black digital patterns meant to be effective camouflage in nearly any terrain. Gentry had his rifle. Thomas took his place before the two of them and began to strap on his helmet.

The new captain preferred this newer tactical gear to the older ‘skirmish’ armor typically used by Starfleet security. For on-ship fighting, the skirmish stuff sufficed, but for any other combat, its lack of camo and versatility had severe shortcomings. Security men used to always have to carry far too much extra gear to make up for what their armor was not designed to do.

The tactical gear, however, was more patterned after Marine equipment. Heavy boots, grey camo fatigues and matching armor vest and leg pads were much less obtrusive in alien terrain than Starfleet maroon or even the older black jump suits. Each pocket the gear offered packed a different piece of necessary equipment for the soldier beaming into harm’s way.

“Ten seconds!” The transporter tech assisting Lieutenant LeCreaux called off. The chief engineer was already inputting her commands into the mainframe and activating the buffer systems. Thomas took his rifle from PO2 Gentry. He breathed in one long draught of cool, starship air and prepared himself.

“Five!”

There was no change what so ever in the sound of the warp drive engines only tens of meters away. This maneuver was so damn dangerous…Thomas wondered whether Ford would be slapping him on the back or pointing an accusatory finger at him for chancing it. Tension flared and continued to rise as he heard the transporter mechanisms begin their cycle…






“In range!” Called the acting science officer.

“Begin down warping! Full reverse!” Surall barked, her slim brown hands clutching the armrests of the command chair. “Fire!”

Even as the ship began to jutter and moan as her engines went full reverse and tore her out of warp speed, two new inertial forces caused her to buck as though she’d been kicked in the face. Pictured on the subspace field-blurred main viewer, two photon torpedoes raced down at the wide planet surface below and shot through the atmosphere. They left long, fiery trails as they descended toward their targets. Should those missiles fail, or be half a second off in their timing, then Thomas and his party were dead before they left the ship.

Their transport signals would strike the inhibitor field surrounding the beam down target and scatter. Tenseiga would already be back at warp before the computer could even recognize what had occurred and the ship would be too far away to bring them back...

Surall saw two tell tale bursts in low atmosphere right about where she estimated Jarn’s installation to be located. She hoped that was the place. Unseen by the bridge crew, she allowed her body to tense and also prepared for the ship to reaccelerate. Her science subordinate flung his view her way.

“Transport away!”

Practically gasping from her efforts, Ensign Torres took a hand off the RCS panel to shove the throttle yoke back to its former position of ‘Ahead Flank’. “Down warping complete! Reassuming warp!”

The titanic pressures associated with the maneuver shoved the entire crew back deeply into their seats. The Akyazi’s structure groaned at a high pitch as her members bent and flexed to the extent of their design limits. The acting exec could see a deck panel shake loose of its snap-housing as even the flooring flexed out of shape.
As the ship propelled herself away from the planet at insane velocity, Surall caught just the briefest glimpse of those two escort craft emerging from the dark hemisphere of the planet’s circumference. Tenseiga rattled even more from their parting blasts of magnetron energy. The moan of the warp drive continued to build as they built up speed and hurtled back into deep space.

Thomas and his men were on their own…





Thomas felt as though he was not where his eyes told him he was…

The transport cycle had yet to fully end and he could still feel the reintegration energies pulling his pattern together. His eyes told him he was on the loading dock close to where he’d been months ago when they’d shuttled down here from Endeavour. But his stomach told him he was inside that permacrete barrier surrounding the compound…

At last, after a seeming eternity, the cycle completed itself and he was whole. His head swam, and he could see by the confused and disoriented appearance of his teammates that they felt as he did. Gentry even faltered forward a step but caught his balance short of falling. Thomas hefted his rifle. They had the element of surprise here, for however long it lasted. They had to get moving!

“We’re right on target!” He urged as his unsteady feet chugged into motion. He led his galloping men to the wide, open main loading doors. Various alien prisoners scattered at the sight of their approach. Ben kept his eyes wary, looking out for resistance.

“Up high!” Mathers called off.

Ben looked up only in time to see his senior petty officer shoot the armed work master off the walk overlooking the loading areas. The grey skinned Ya’wenn tumbled over the railing of the walk and plummeted to a bloody crash before them. Thomas stepped over the body without a care and paused at the control module beside the main entrance. He tapped at the alien device, hoping to see something like a main menu come up. No such luck abounded.

“You getting a trace on a subcutaneous transponder?”

Gentry brought his combat tricorder up and made the briefest scan. “Yeah! How’d you know the commodore would—“

“I know Ford.” Thomas said back. “Inside?”

“Aye. Down at least three levels from this position.”

Thomas swung swiftly around the thick corner of the bunker wall and entered the gloomier interior of Jarn’s world. His rifle butt was pressed to his padded shoulder and tracking every moving person within. Most were simply fearful, abused prisoners. All of these turned to clear the way and some just dropped and covered their heads where they lay. The team made their way cautiously but quickly to where Ben remembered the stairs to be.

A flash of blue energy and the squall of a particle weapon told them they’d been found before they reached the first case. The beam lanced out from directly ahead. Thomas dropped to a knee to make himself a smaller target and leaned an eye to his scope. The device scoured the way ahead for infrared traces and quickly highlighted the gun toting alien offender. Ben squeezed off a level five blast, putting the sharp azure beam through the heat center of his target. With his heart bisected, the Ya’wenn guard dropped.

Thomas spared his group a glance to make sure they fared as well as he. Mathers was close, backing his up. Gentry was coming up in the rear, covering their six a bit further back. The big, former linebacker dropped his own target with a whine of phaser fire. His movements were spare and precise. Thomas’s confidence in a successful mission suddenly blossomed. He looked back ahead and led his men to the first bit of stair leading down.
***

Ooo-ha-ha!

Hope that whets the appetite.
N-joy!

--thu guv!

[Commander La'ra]

The Tenseiga's run on the planet was more typical of my type of fight scene than yours!  Loved it, too, you kept that sense of speed and urgency all the way through, even during the disengagement.  Also have great affection for the tightness of the ground team, the way they seem to be moving and fighting as a unit, like real soldiers.  Rarely see that on Trek, that's for sure...even the Jem'Hadar seemed to learn their tactics from watching Braveheart.

The very cinematic 'doom plunge' after Thomas shot the Overseer was cool too.

[Czar Mohab]

Its one of those stories where you go, "man, why'd he stop? There's more, has to be... why's it done for now?"

Czar "one day i'll catch up with 1-9" Mohab

[Governor Ronjar]

Its one of those stories where you go, "man, why'd he stop? There's more, has to be... why's it done for now?"

HAH! Just what I was hoping for!

You can wait a few days. Depends on how fast the crew replies... [Andy, Grim, etc...]

La'ra posted with recond speed, however. Think I might accelerate posting the next on just that account...
I'll go think about it...

--thu guv!

[Governor Ronjar]

Alright...can't wait any longer...

Here's a tidbit more...

CH. 7(pt.1)





Captain Dath’mar stomped loudly onto the expanded metal mesh of the after bridge deck, letting the clomp of his entry announce him to his crew. Lieutenant Commander I’rell looked up from her science array as he came near, and Commander Kurvis rose from the command chair to join them.

“Report.” The one-eyed Klingon almost growled.

“Captain,” I’rell began first. She must have been the one to make initial discovery of whatever had roused them enough to call Dath’mar to the bridge. “A Federation ship has entered the system. They attack the Kovarn outpost!”

The brow above Dath’mar’s right eye rose half a centimeter.

“A Starfleet ship?”

“Yes, my lord. And a small one.” I’rell was smiling at the Earther’s audacity. “Akyazi-Class.”

Dath’mar might almost have smiled. Almost. He was, however, visibly impressed.

“When did the Starfleet develop such gall?”

This was as much as an outburst from the Pang’s eternally stoic commanding officer. He looked to his First Officer, Kurvis. The commander shrugged grandly, but shared I’rell’s smile. “They ran in at high warp, took hits from an escort cruiser and ran straight in at the planet. Then they initiated a hard braking maneuver at mid-orbit altitude and sped away.”

Dath’mar’s face resumed its stone countenance. His eye drifted away from them in thought, focussed on nothing in general. “They beamed in a strike team.” He said after a moment.

I’rell nodded.

“Energy readings might have indicated that. They fired two torpedoes as they braked to destroy the two inhibitor field generators covering the north continent. Their timing was very precise.”

Dath’mar turned to stalk away from them and drop into his command chair. He glared derisively at the blank view screen before him. Fate was a mocking thing. Anything the Earthers did to combat Jarn and his people, he would begrudgingly foster and assist. The enemy of his enemy would for a time be his ally…

His sole eye found the tactical repeater near the fore screen and studied the enemy’s response to the Earth ship. They had deployed three ships to pace the Akyazi as she left the system. Dath’mar knew they would return for their men on the surface. The Ya’wenn were also guessing something similar. They had arrayed another four vessels to cover the orbital approach to their world to catch their prey as they returned. The crossfire would cut that tiny ship to pieces.

The Ya’wenn tyrants did not know that the Pang once again lurked cloaked within their system…

“Cut unnecessary energy expenditure and output.” The captain ordered his officers. “Take us in at full impulse. We shall close with the human ship. Stand by warp drive.”
***





Lieutenant Bronstien watched the blip move closer and closer to his derelict first command. The Ya’wenn escort was only now beginning to enter into range of its primitive sensors. They would be picking Endeavour up any minute. And when they did, they would likely increase speed. Thus far, no one had observed any Ya’wenn vessel perform better than warp seven, and that had been under duress. But any speed was superior to Endeavour’s. The crippled ship would be doing well to push one quarter impulse without a tow. And as for maneuvering…

If they get close enough to fire on us, we’re toast… Bronstien thought.

The lieutenant brought his communicator up and flipped it open. He was the only remaining individual in Auxiliary Control. The rest of his salvage party was spread out about the ship appraising their capabilities to defend themselves. “McCoy…any chance on us getting phasers anytime soon?”

The reply was scratchy from the number of irradiated decks separating them.

“Maybe, Lieutenant. I’ve got the EPS grid leading to the dorsal array re-energized and the forward main capacitor seems capable of holding a full charge. If everything works we’ll have six operational phasers.” The engineering spec told him.

Six phasers… Johnathan thought, out of the ten that encircled the upper saucer and the total of twenty-eight that Endeavour’s armament boasted. Pitiful. He brought the comm back up to his lips and once again found the thing tapping the concave glass hemisphere of his RAD helmet. “And the shields?”

“I’m less sure about those, sir.” Was her reply. Bronstien refrained from cursing or even sighing over the open line. His people didn’t need any more discouragement. “The EPS transfers were severed by weapons fire during the battle. I’m not going to be able to jump past all the breaches in the system in the time we have left. And most of the bypass systems are fused.”

“So that’s a ‘no’ on shields?”

“Yes, sir. I’m afraid it is…”

Johnathan looked at the small monitor that was showing what the Shuttle Jet’s sensors were picking up. The Ya’wenn escort ship, about the same size as the Tenseiga, had just increased her warp speed and was turning her course to a more true interception angle. Endeavour had just been found.

“They know we’re here, Spec. Get back up to the impulse deck and see what power you can give me!” The lieutenant reset his communicator to hail the remainder of his salvage crew and keyed it back on. He wished, not for the first time, that he didn’t have to wear the bulky and restrictive RAD suit for this ordeal.  He moved toward the tactical/operations console as he addressed his men. “All hands, Ya’wenn on final approach. Man your stations!”






Ben Thomas knelt near the bottom step of the shadowed metal staircase, nearly falling as he sought cover from the heavy fire blazing down the walkway to his left. Blue and silver beams sliced handrails and blew holes in the expanded metal flooring of the service walk and staircase. Mathers half crouched farther up the stairs, at the highest vantage of the case and returned fire with long, raking slashes of phaser energy. Gentry hunkered, pinned down on the straight catwalk itself, five meters from Thomas. He’d been leading the team down into the fabrication and smelting bowels of Jarn’s machinations when the attack had occurred. His tricorder lay in smoking ruin in the center of the walk.

Thomas spared the noncom a look to check him out. Gentry didn’t seem injured. The heavy moving case he’d taken refuge behind was pitted and holed through from the withering fire that slapped at it from the foggy gloom at the far end of the walkway. This had been a well-planned ambush. This stair had been the only way to get to the exact level Gentry’s scanners told them the commodore waited. Begrudging respect led the commander to grin grimly as he trained his rifle on the center of the swirling vapor that hid his attackers.

The captain’s scope detailed the stooping forms of the Ya’wenn firing in on his team. Mathers had already dropped one. The remainder had backed up to put a series of crossbeams into the line of fire. Ben smiled at the sight of the yellow and red thermal shape in his sights, squeezing the trigger. His rifle squalled, putting a blue beam straight through the aggressor. The alien dropped. Ben thought he heard the man shout in pain. He was subtly surprised to see two other Ya’wenn move forward to assist when the first had fallen. One man grabbed his fallen comrade, the other took up the slack in maintaining the fire on the Federation team.

A close hit spattered molten metal onto Ben’s gloved left hand. He ignored the burn. Dropping his weapon would mean less return fire. Less return fire meant being overwhelmed. He continued to pour fire down on the Ya’wenn where they knelt, keeping their heads down as much as possible.

We’re pinned down here, Ben thought. Their reinforcements can come from behind, attack from the top of the stairs. We’ve got to move!  Removing his left hand from the fore-grip of his weapon, Ben snatched a phaser grenade from the back of his web-belt. His hand stung and he could barely feel the initiator stud on the top of the weapon. Still, he managed to push it forward on the round top of the grenade just one place, deliberately setting the weapon for stun. Can’t have an explosion bringing down the while damn shebang! he thought with dark humor.

A wide, circling toss sent the grenade into the midst of the group of defending Ya’wenn. Thomas knew there was a better than average chance that the grenade would just bounce down to the next level and cause no effect what so ever. But the white burst of light and the electric thump told him he’d been exceptionally close. The thermal shapes on his scope crumpled.

Thomas wasted no time in rising to his feet and trotting down the remainder of the steps to the level surface of the walk. Gentry arose as well, covering the lane right of the stair. Mathers tossed him the spare tactical tricorder as the trio set again into motion. Gentry extended the head of the sensor and ran a quick sweep of the level they were now traversing.

“We’re clear for the moment, Cap’n.” The younger man told Thomas. “Ya’wenn are descending from the levels above to reinforce the area. And—“

Ben didn’t slow as the noncom petty officer paused. The ship captain grabbed him firmly at either shoulder and pushed him along. “And, what, PO?”

“Cap’n…I’m getting Klingon life signs!”

This did make Thomas halt. Mathers drew aside to the rear, covering their six. He split his attention between the shadowy length of catwalk and his team’s conversation. The captain took up a position close by Gantry, rifle up and panning about the way ahead to make sure none encroached upon them while they spoke.

“Wha’d ya’ mean Klingon life signs? How many?”

“Nine, Cap’n. And I’m picking up residual transport energy. They haven’t been here very long.”

“Near the Commodore?”

“Aye, Cap’n!”

“sh*t,” Thomas surged ahead with renewed vigor as he lead them down the metal plank. “Up the pace folks! Look sharp!” It wasn’t long before they were trotting down the noisy length of walkway.

[Czar Mohab]

And a plot twist too... Didn't see that coming...

Czar "Lets do the twist! "Mohab

[Governor Ronjar]

And now...the rest of the story...

...or chapter, as it were.

CH.7 (pt.2)






Captain Rell sneered in disgust at the bloody display of carnage lying before him in the tiny, dank sublevel chamber of Jarn’s installation. One of the Ya’wenn jailers ruffians lay with his eye gouged out beside the pale, limp form of a naked, dirty human being. The human, Commodore Chevis Ford, lay bent double with a very Terran looking knife protruding from his bowels. Rell believed the majority of the crimson pool his boots trod round in belonged to the Starfleet commodore.

“Medic!” Rell barked, waving the slim chief surgeon over to the human with a flick of his hand. Ford’s chest wasn’t moving, not so far as he could discern. He wasn’t blue, just a deathly white pallor. The medic bent and unslung his scanner. Rell watched with a distasteful grimace as his officer peeled open an eye and shone a tiny light into it.
These Ya’wenn were unprofessional. A true soldier such as Rell could never enjoy working with them. In truth, he could barely tolerate cooperating with this Jarn. And seeing the handy work of the Warden’s henchmen… This display made him sick. Were the guard not already dead, Rell would have slain him.

“He lives, Captain.” The surgeon reported. “The main blood vessel travelling the length of the human’s torso has been lacerated by the blade. Near a third of his blood has left the body and he is in severe shock. There is also the beginnings of septic infection.”

Rell considered beaming this man to his ship in orbit. The Starfleet team that presently dropped Jarn’s men amid the lower levels was obviously here for him. And these prison henchmen were no match for professionally trained warriors. The Starfleet soldiers would be here in mere minutes. Moving the commodore, however, would be problematic with that knife in his guts. Removing it was out of the question. His surgeon did not have near the knowledge necessary to patch an alien together without the support of the Gorvek’s sickbay. Perhaps his transporter chief could beam them up from this chamber without a beacon…

The screech of phaser rifle fire brought any mental deliberation to a halt. Rell looked up to his Qas DevwI’ and waved toward the outer walk way beyond the open hatch. The bumpy headed soldier nodded back and barked for four of the accompanying security men to follow. They raised their rifles to their shoulders and pushed out into the danger grounds, ready to fight.

Rell looked back to his surgeon.

“Is he stable enough for transport?”

“I cannot say, m’lord.” The surgeon replied. He did not look up to his commanding officer as he spoke. His eyes remained on the crumpled form before him, his disgust evident. Rell wondered if all the disgust was reserved for the dying man or for having to call his captain ‘lord’. The surgeon was piteously bad at hiding his disdain for his smooth-headed CO. “Humans are so fragile. They have no brak’lul.”

Rell smirked slightly, though he felt no real humor in the situation. He had no love for humans, but to see wasted opportunities irked him. There had been no reason to treat this flag officer in this manner. The brutality evident was more out of malice than any want of intelligence. Rell had come here to secure Ford for his own interrogations. Upon arriving at Kovarn, he’d found it under assault by a daring but lone Starfleet frigate that had beamed down an assault team.

Ford could die just as easily from the nervous shock of being beamed up in his present condition as from continuing to bleed. Rell did not want his prize damaged any further than he already was. But he could not allow the rescue party to reclaim the human.

“Staunch the blood flow as well as you can and give him a stimulant to keep his heart beating.” The captain decided. He drew his own disruptor and joined the remaining couple of Qas Dev that remained in the chamber with him. He would ensure that the human did not leave this planet alive save with him…





Thomas dropped at the sight of the first flash of disruptor fire up ahead. He’d known they were close to the Klingons. But the vapor that seeped through the air at every odd corner of this dreary complex had obscured the hulking forms that had awaited his men. Gentry lay on his back, his holed armor smoking from the first shot even as the petty officer scrambled back on his butt. Ben leaned out from the jut of rock he’d chosen as cover to unleash a long stream of phaser fire on where he believed the enemy lurked. The swirling white gasses blowing up ahead were obscuring any trace of infrared energy. The rifle’s sight was useless.

More emerald bursts lashed out from the other side of the wispy vapor, smacking everything about the ship captain and his hunkering men. Mathers edged forward, his own rifle laying down azure lances as he came. A stifled cry sounded from beyond. A hit, or a near miss? Gentry scooted up behind Thomas and righted himself. He was fighting to separate his burning hot armor from his scorched flesh and had to slide the thick collar of his vest between them to relieve the pain. The man already smelled of burned meat and hair. The hit would have either blown off his arm or vaporized him had he been unarmored.

“Tricorder!” Ben shouted the order as he continued to lay down fire. His plan of just running through this place was meeting with several quagmires prior to its completion. But he had to reset the pace, kill these guys before someone got smart and beamed Ford away. Thomas knew he wasn’t going to be able to reclaim Chevy from a cloaked Klingon warship.

Gentry pulled Mathers’ scanner up and popped it open. A quick pass told him all he needed to report. “We got five Klinks up ahead, four in the next room up on the right! I’m not reading any human life signs, but the commodore’s transponder is still broadcasting!”

Thomas ground his teeth at the report of ‘no human life signs’. He hadn’t come all this way and done all this to go home with a dead body! Rage surged within him. No, he wasn’t about to be pinned down here anymore. This was it!

With a savage howl ferocious enough to stagger a Klingon in mid-charge, Ben leapt to his booted feet and bore ahead. He squeezed the trigger on his rifle constantly, letting loose a constant and draining torrent of energy that cut back and forth ahead of him. He ran, accompanied after a moment of shock by his stunned security men. Mathers copied his CO, blazing away with his weapon even though his power monitor was already beginning to flash its warning. Gentry fired in more controlled bursts, less than a second each. Together, they pierced the whirling white fog that had separated them from the Klingons.

Ben clenched his eyes from the frigid cold of the gaseous wash he passed through. When he opened them, he found three enemy warriors lying in sprawled heaps on solid metal flooring. Neat slashes of energy had opened them up, slicing through leather armor, flesh and bone alike as the humans had run in. Several barrels and crates were close by, and were all Thomas had time to register before seeing the nearest live Klingon rise and swing his rifle butt down at him. Immediately satisfied, Ben grinned insanely and ducked low of the attack. He gripped his weapon’s handles solidly and stabbed the barrel assembly into the alien’s stomach with all his strength. He ground the trigger home and loosed the remainder of the weapon’s charge into his target. The beam erupted from the Klingon’s back and blew chunks of rubble free of the stone wall beyond him. The alien howled in pain and folded over.

Thomas whirled, guided by instinct and anger as another warrior drove in with a d’k’tagh in hand and raised high. Ben blocked the downward stab with his rifle’s body. Gentry pushed in and butt-stroked the Klingon in the jaw. Thomas heard the mandible snap. Blood flew, painting the rifle in Ben’s hands.

The remaining Klingon defenders here were down. Mathers stepped up and emptied the rest of his own flagging power charge into the face of the Klingon Gentry had stroked. Ben stepped aside, behind one of the heavy crates the Klingons had used as cover, and swapped out power packs while Gentry covered the lit doorway ahead. Mathers did likewise.

“Five down,” Ben huffed, ignorant of the dribbles of sweat currently pouring down his face. “Four to go!”

Mathers shot him a look back.

“That was insane, Captain!”

Ben smirked back with meaty, flushed cheeks.

“This ain’t nothin’!”

And Thomas was off again. The bulky man charged forward, causing his startled noncoms to run after him. Ben knew what he was about to attempt was crazy, and stood an even greater chance of getting him killed than the rush he’d just completed. He forced himself not to think at all, pulling a full breath of stinking Kovarn air into his lungs as he chugged his last couple of strides…

…and leapt out into the open air…





Captain Rell staggered back at the vision of the camouflaged human that sailed past the wide doorway he sheltered behind. The giant man was shouting a courageous battle cry as he flew through the dark, misty air, firing as he lost altitude. Disbelief assailed the Klingon commander. The Earther even seemed to be…smiling!

“Fire!” Rell shouted, falling back over a loose piece of the crumbling ceiling. His trip was what saved his life. As his Qas Dev turned to track the huge Earther with their rifles, they were assailed by two other humans that charged into view and opened up with their own rifles. Turned completely away from the direction the other two had approached from, Rell’s security men were unable to defend themselves. They fell in jumbled heaps before the doorframe, one of them headless. Rell rolled out of the danger zone and fired out through the doorway.

Now knelt beside the open hatchway, the scowling commander glared to his medical officer. “Surgeon! Beam him up immediately!”

The medic nodded, his long grey locks dangling over the human as he practically lay atop the alien in fear. The surgeon fumbled for his communicator as Rell looked back to the door. The Starfleet soldiers had yet to show themselves again and the first one who’d leapt past had evidently landed well out of sight. The surgeon had yet even to activate his comm. That fool is panicked! He realized. I will have to give him more time to get Ford to the Gorvek!





Thomas strained to recover his bulk from the hard, unforgiving metal platform he’d landed on and turned back to the doorway. Gentry and Mathers both hunkered to the right of the entry, covered by the thick stone that comprised the wall. Ben stood fully. His left shoulder cried out in pain from the force of his landing. He couldn’t believe he’d made it past that door without being shot. His foolish stunt had drawn the aim of both armed men inside and allowed for his guys to get the drop on them. But flailing shots delivered from within since showed that the last Klingon Thomas had observed wasn’t going to allow this a second time. He briefly considered leaping into the room blindly, but discarded the notion. He wouldn’t get away with that twice, and he had no idea where the Klingon was hiding now.

The wall behind his security men blew outward with a spatter of high power disruptor fire and the savage crack of bursting rock. Both Gentry and Mathers were hurled into the guardrail lining the walk platform. The rail bent with their sudden weight and that of the stone crashing past, but it saved the two from plummeting down into the depths below. Thomas saw a smear of blood on Mathers’ face as he stared in shock, but he quickly looked back left as something charged out of the half-lit chamber.
A Klingon, with his head completely covered in short, black hair, ran full-tilt toward Thomas and aimed his pistol. Ben didn’t have time to draw aim with his heavier rifle. He just brought it up as quickly as his muscles would move and lurched forward to make the weapon connect with the Klingon’s. The next shot was diverted, lashing straight up rather than into Ben’s face. There came a snap from above when the burst hit. Both Thomas and the Klingon now grappling his rifle looked to the ‘sky’.

Heavy blocks of stone thundered down on them and the platform they were on. The first one struck the metal flooring and tore it instantly free. Only Gentry and Mathers remained in the clear, separated as they were by nearly thirty feet of clearance. Ben tumbled into the empty space below the lofty catwalks, taking the Klingon captain with him.

The two landed on an uneven expanse of stone, an unguessed distance beneath their starting point. Thomas scrambled on all fours away from his Klingon assailant, trying to avoid further raining stonework. Great hunks of granite crashed to the ground around them. Some hit them and sent them reeling. Finally, Ben hunkered in a dark crevice of stone and covered himself to ward off further offending attack. He could no longer see the alien.

The avalanche of rock seemed to fall forever. When finally it dwindled down to hand sized stones, Ben ventured to rise from his hidden position and survey his surroundings. The scape of this pit was strewn with jagged cuts of rock blasted free of the carven chambers high above. No level footing remained. This was a crevasse only thirty feet or so across. Surreal, dusty light filtered down from on high. Ben looked up into the dusty, diffuse light shining down from the overheads. He could barley make out the first face of rock which had torn the platform down. It was jammed five meters up, wedged between two other rock faces, which hadn’t left enough space for the great stone to pass. Had it actually made it all the way to the bottom of this tiny area, Thomas would be dead. The small size of this chasm had saved him.
And across all of this nightmarish terrain, Ben could see his enemy rising from the debris like some kind of chimera. He grinned gleefully, reaching down for his sidearm.
His pistol had torn free. Only God knew where his rifle had gone to.

He looked back up into the eyes of his adversary. This smooth-headed Klingon had to be the one who’d met Ford on the Ya’wenn homeworld last week. Captain Rell. There couldn’t be that many of the mutated ones left in the Imperial Fleet. Ben’s fists coiled into massive hammers. The other could see what kind of melee was about to develop here. His hands came up just beneath his ribs to either side, palms flat down. Mok’bara was a dangerous martial art form. Thomas had faced it before. This warrior did not frighten him.

“Rell.” Thomas greeted his enemy with a grin.

“Commander Benjamin Thomas, I believe.” The captain’s English was untainted by any accent. He’d studied long and hard to perfect the ability to speak Terran without the aid of a translator device. “Quite the diversionary tactic you employed, leaping past my door.”

“I was actually aimin’ to kill ya’.”

“You missed.”

Thomas nodded once in respect to the alien he was about to kill.

“That’ll be the only time.”
***

[Commander Maxillius]

Coming to the last-post in a story like that is like running full force into a wall which has a hallway painted on it. 

I love the allusion that the Klingons are going to help the humans but try to take Ford for themselves instead.

Must have more!!   

[Commander La'ra]

Middle part of the story.  Full of as-yet-unresolved action.  Thus, part of me just wants to say 'You're a bastard' for ending the last post where you did.  But I won't.   Don't have much more new to say yet, but I liked Thomas' Hail Mary tactic, the combat continues to be exciting, and I've wanted to see someone beat the livving [censored] out of Rell for a long time and hope it's coming.

Especially wanna see how Dath'mar's gonna fit into all this...had kinda hoped HE'd be the one to square off with Rell, but hey...you can't have everything.

[Governor Ronjar]

Still nothing from Andy...

Oh well. The rest of can enjoy more.





CH. 8(Pt. 1)





Petty Officer First Class Jordan Mathers clambered over the tops of several dislodged boulders that lay between him and the torn open doorway. His rifle was long-gone, but he’d drawn his Type Two from his left-hand holster and was wary of any sign of remaining enemy. Gentry lay in a jumble behind him, out cold from any one of the thousands of rocks that had come loose when the Klingon had fired straight up. Rocks still tumbled down, and long falls of dirt showered down here and there.

The platform Captain Thomas had been on was long gone. He figured the captain was dead. Gentry was still breathing and moaning. He was still alive. Mathers couldn’t reach him. Now it was up to Jordan to get this job done. Cautiously, he slid over the breadth of a long hunk of granite and eased up to the threshold of the doorway.

“Choo-Haw! Choo-Haw!” The PO1 could make out from within. An old sounding, Klingon voice was repeating the same thing over and over. Mathers chanced a glance within, ready to fire.

An old and wizened Klingon in battered, dirt-covered armor hunkered over a naked form on the cold stone floor. He had a communicator in hand and was shouting into it. Mathers figured what he was repeating was akin to ‘hello’. He wasn’t likely to get a response, however.

The dead light on the side of the comm meant that it wasn’t on.

Jordan boldly stepped into the chamber, ready to reclaim his commodore and get the hell out of here. The walkway outside was near to destroyed, so there was little chance of Ya’wenn reinforcements getting here without a transporter. But Mathers didn’t want to dally any longer than he had to.

“Get up, Klink!”

The surgeon looked up at him in apparent shock. He lowered the communicator and stared up with open eyes. Mathers found this an odd thing. Weren’t all Klingons supposed to be great warriors? Where was this man’s disruptor? Why wasn’t he leering back with blood lust? He was reacting like…a human…

Jordan didn’t waste time sorting it all out. He fired his phaser at point-blank range, right into the side of the old Klingons head. The alien rolled over like a marionette with all its strings suddenly cut and sagged to the debris-strewn floor. Ignoring the now dead alien, Mathers knelt beside the inert form of the nude human. This was what he and his team had come here for. Now they could leave. He hoped it wouldn’t take Tenseiga long to get back to this forsaken place. He reached onto his back and pulled the emergency comm unit he, Thomas and Gentry had each carried here.

He keyed in the preset command and lay the unit down. Within seconds, his ship would detect the subspace pulse and come running.





“XO, signal from Kovarn! Requesting extraction!”

Lieutenant Surall nodded to the communications officer and looked again to the star studded view screen forward. Tenseiga had remained at warp speed, keeping her distance from the trailing warships aft of her and skirting around the edge of the starsystem. Seventeen minutes had passed since the insertion of the rescue team. Very much longer and the Tenseiga would have circumnavigated the entire star system.

“Helm, hard a starboard! Return course for planetary orbit. Maintain maximum warp speed.”

Warp nine point two would see them back to the eighth planet in under a minute. The trailing ships would gain some ground as Tenseiga turned in on them, but would not attain a firing position before the Starfleet vessel outpaced them again. The worry was in the flanking array of starships the Ya’wenn defenders had deployed in orbit of their world. There were now six escort-sized vessels waiting on Tenseiga to come and claim her people. Even with the use of down warping, this ship was in great danger of being caught defenseless by the enemy. She considered making a slower approach, going in at impulse and drawing the enemy into a chase at sublight. With Tenseiga’s greater impulse power and maneuverability, she could conceivably elude those escorts and circle back for the rescue team.

But slowing to sublight would allow those trailing escorts to catch up. Then there would be nine of them in close pursuit. And how many more would join in? She glanced to the tactical displays to either side of the main screen. There were a great number of Ya’wenn ships in this system and all of them were edging closer to the prospective combat zone as Tenseiga raced back in. No, an impulse fight would not do…

She had no time to devise another option. She had to go with the plan in hand.

The blue and brown planet swelled larger and larger on the viewer. Surall could see Ensign Torres tensing as the moment of truth ran steadily toward her. Even the navigator was nervously gazing at the world before them. Lieutenant Kurita half turned from the portside console to look her way.

“Enemy are taking up firing positions. They’ve guessed our transporter range!”

“Stand by phasers. Prepare to cut shields for transport.”

Kurita turned stiffly back to his phaser controls. He obviously doubted their chances of survival. There were just too many odds staring the Tenseiga in the face. Even if they were successful in reclaiming the party from the surface, they’d take horrible damage in the process. Surall mentally counted the seconds down. The orders to return fire rested at the tip of her tongue.





Ben Thomas closed the distance with his adversary. His eyes were locked onto Rell’s. Both men had about the same, dirty little smile on their face. To simply look upon them, one might almost have believed they had met here for some wicked little prank. They came to a rest barely a few feet from the other, stances set and ready to react.

Ben was first to move.

A thunderous left hook led his assault, lightning quick as he stepped in. Rell responded with an easy looking block. His hand waved out before him in artistic style, catching the incoming strike and tossing it aside. Ben’s forearm smarted from the contact but he did not pause to reflect on it. He followed with a straight-line right punch, delivered from the shoulder. Rell danced aside. His movements were skilled though he still bobbled over the uneven footing at hand.

Rell pressed back in, striking low and fast. His extended fingertips drove beneath the dirtied armor the human wore, stabbing painfully into the softer flesh beneath. Ben had some belly at his age of fifty-two and the impact hurt. He cursed and slugged the Klingon full on in the temple. The resounding crack drove the alien to the jagged ground. Memories of assaulting Commodore Shiloah flittered into Thomas’s mind. He’d been delighted as well as shocked to learn he’d been a Klingon… That fact occurred to the giant man just then, making him smile in genuine good humor.

Rell was back to his feet even as the smile cracked Thomas’s face open. The Klingon did not know what had this man grinning so amiably and he decided the human must be battle crazed. He hadn’t thought Earthers capable of it. The Klingon captain took up a new stance on the unstable ground and waited for the big man to come in at him again. He didn’t have to wait long.

Ben led with another left. It was predictable, and Rell countered with much the same block as before. This time the human grabbed Rell’s deflecting arm with a right and cranked it painfully up and pinned it behind, maintaining the hold with his left hand. Rell gasped, surprised at the Terran’s strength. He kneed the human viscously in the crotch as he pressed close. Ben coughed a bit, but seemed undeterred. His right fist found Rell’s hard belly, driving the wind from the warrior and doubling him over. Something in Rell’s shoulder snapped. Ben released the Klingon’s limp right arm and slugged his enemy twice on either side of the skull.

Rell reeled and staggered back from the assault, shaking the stars from his vision as he backed out of Ben’s reach. The uneven ground had removed most of his Mok’bara foot fighting capacity. He was left with hand attacks as his primary defense. And this human was quite fast and painfully strong. The way he’d overpowered Rell’s blocking strike and pinned his arm was unnerving. He sought some other way to combat this ruffian.

Rell bent suddenly, going down so fast that Ben thought he’d fallen. But the avenging Klingon came back up just as fast with a softball-sized piece of stone. Ben threw an arm up for defense but knew he was too late. The jagged edge of the heavy weapon slammed into the side of his head, Rell’s elbow having bent around Ben’s forearm. A warm, wet pain flooded Thomas’s head as his legs collapsed beneath his weight. Rell brought the rock down once more, atop the human’s thick skull. It met with a hollow sounding ‘thock’ sound and Ben toppled senseless.

Rell staggered back, dropping the stone and looked down on the fallen Earther. He was amazed at the human’s strength and tenacity. But all his prowess had been for not. Now Rell could enjoy a coup de grace without fear of return. He looked idly aside for his pistol. Might it have survived the fall? He could think of nothing more satisfying than to shoot this inert beast as he lay on his belly.

The grab of Thomas’s hand about Rell’s ankle told the Klingon that it was far too early to count his victories. Ben howled like an animal as he hauled back on the captain’s boot and felled him. Rell tried in vain to scramble back from the bloodthirsty human as the giant crawled hand over hand atop of him. Ben’s greedy hands groped for Rell’s throat. The Klingon’s right arm was useless and numb. His left could only do so much to stave off the relentless, grasping attack. The desperate, vengeful hate burning in the alien’s eyes drew fear into the smooth-headed Klingon’s heart.

This human being would relish watching him die!

Ben mounted the prone soldier beneath him and bore his weight down on him as he began to wrench his hands closed about the straining neck. Rell’s eyes bulged. Ben shoved in, tightening his grasp all the more. Tendons and small bones gave way. Rell’s mouth gaped, vainly trying to suck air. His tongue protruded.

Rell’s hand fell away and came back with another rock. This one he crashed into Ben’s right elbow, driving it with all the desperate force that remained within him. Ben’s eyes lit with pain and yet still he did not relent. Rell attacked again, this time cutting a jagged hole in the thick sleeve of Ben’s tactical suit and gashing open flesh. Ben shouted, but didn’t let go. Blood from Rell’s earlier rock-based attack dripped down from the ruin of his ear.

Captain Rell summoned up all the remaining strength he possessed, knowing that if he failed in this, he would die. He forced….compelled…coaxed his right arm to move and grabbed the rock in his left hand in a two handed grip. He focussed his bleary eyes on the bridge of Captain Thomas’s nose and swung his stone like and axe-head.
Ben had to block. He had no choice. He released the Klingon’s throat and grabbed the offending rock in both hands. Rell’s knee found the commander’s side as Ben’s weight shifted enough to allow movement. Ben rocked, his balance failing, and fell aside. Rell pushed with his broken right arm and his legs and tried to get above the flailing human. Ben backhanded him in the jaw as he rose, setting him back on his haunches. With both men on their knees and nearly immobile, Rell saw a chance and took it.

Bracing on his folded left leg, the Klingon swung out with his right foot. He was almost too close, but managed to catch the Earther with the top of his boot behind the ear. Thomas toppled yet again.

Rell continued the assault, kicking out with a stomping attack that impacted in the mouth. Ben shouted and scrambled back on all fours to gain distance. Rell sat up to follow and caught a horrendous right cross in the cheek for the effort. The warrior rolled over the knife-edged jumble of earth and granite.

Should he survive this day, Rell resolved to have a greater respect for the physical capacity of the human beast…





The programmed alarm signal sounded from the helm. They had reached the point of no return. Lieutenant Surall watched as Ensign Torres’s hand closed round the throttle lever and began to pull it back. She also saw the shimmer of light forming before the Tenseiga, setting off proximity and emergency alarms throughout the bridge.
“Collision alert!” Larami shouted. He was visibly recoiling, ready for impact.

“Vessel decloaking!” Came from Kurita’s side of the bridge. “Ten thousand kilometers! It’s a Klingon ship!”

Surall locked her eyes on the resolving mirage as it gained substance. It was a D-7-Class battlecruiser, her weapons ports aglow and ready. And she was pointed away from the Tenseiga!

“Hold fire! Helm, secure from warp speed and set a direct course for close orbit, one quarter impulse power!”

The ensign flashed a look back at the acting XO. Her hesitation was not a long one. Her hands began to fly over the controls before her as PO Larami began to report. “We are secure from warp speed, XO. Impulse drive engaging!”

Surall watched as the battlecruiser led the way, slashing from high aport to low starboard on the viewer as her disruptors opened up on the surprised and unprepared Ya’wenn escorts. Several were simply rotating away from this new vessel, not returning fire, just trying to run. Still others hesitantly opened up on the Klingon cruiser. The D-7 shook under the hits, but did not turn aside. She had, simply by appearing, thrown the Ya’wenn into a panic. Now Surall had to capitolize.

“Mister Kurita, target the vessel ten degrees port of the Klingon and open fire, full phasers and torpedoes. Target their engine section.”

“Weapons…locked. Firing!”

Tenseiga jittered as the magnetic accelerators launched one torpedo after the other. The squall of the phaser cannon opening up could be heard, no doubt, in every compartment aboard the ship. The small escort craft under the Federation ship’s guns heeled over with the onslaught. Its shields sparked with electric pulses and visibly wavered. The missile impacts left telltale char marks with each hit. The sharp-nosed ship lurched into motion as she attempted to evade further strikes.

“Hostile going evasive. I’m maintaining phaser fire.” Called out the chief weapons officer. Across the small bridge, his junior officer also reported.

“Torpedoes reloading.”

A final phaser beam penetrated the Ya’wenn’s shielding like a pin through a balloon. It struck a long jagged line of fiery destruction down the flank of the alien ship. The phaser’s partner from the same bank picked up the assault as the first shut down to recharge. It stabbed deeply into the engineering bowels of the starship and shoved it half on its left side. The glow of the craft’s warp pods faded and died as Tenseiga passed it by.

“Close orbital range, XO!” Torres reported.

Surall flicked a look to the starboard tactical screen. The Ya’wenn to starboard of the ship were in full retreat before the Klingon D-7 cruiser. One of them was already sinking into the atmosphere of the planet. Tenseiga’s tactical computers listed that it was heavily on fire and had lost main power. The ships to port and aft of Tenseiga were closer, but had moved away from the Klingon ship. They were at medium weapons range and angled badly to attack. Their escorts had only two aft facing weapons.

“Cut shields.” She stabbed the intercom controls. “Transporter room! Ready?”

“We’re locking on, XO. There’s a lot of interference…but…got ‘em!”

“Energize!”





Ben Thomas raised the heavy rock that served as his impromptu weapon above his head and prepared to drive it down with all his might. Near senseless, Captain Rell put a weak hand up in a paltry attempt at defense. The human was about to end it. This had been a glorious battle. It only pained Rell that he had not been the victor.
There came a beep from the human’s belt and a tiny, blinking yellow light flashed out in the gloom. Thomas heard the sound and his eyes widened. He strained, swinging the rock down as fast and as hard as he could compel it to move. Blue energy consumed the giant human where he’d knelt beside the Klingon. The silhouette of his arms and rock continued their way down onto Rell’s head. The captain felt the tingly, warm wash of subspace energy flush over his forehead and face. He could only smile a bloody, bruise-lipped smile as Thomas’s echoing ‘NO!’ rebounded through the small crevasse that had been their battleground.


The rock came slamming down on the top of the transporter platform with a shattering crash. Ben was up on his feet just a second after, kicking at the busted, glass-like material that had shattered all around him. The curses and explicatives that rushed forth from his battered mouth caused the chief engineer to gawk in open fright.

“Just one more goddamn second!” Thomas thundered at the French woman, finger jutting in her direction.

“Cap’n!” Mathers’ voice compelled him to whirl, mind coming back to reality. “We need the doc!”

Chevis Ford lay bleeding all over the aft section of the transport platform. His own Bowie knife stuck out of him like a fence post. The man was covered head to toe in filth and bruises. Thomas felt himself pale. He could only wave in futility to the nearby transport tech to get to the intercom as he stared in shock.

“Is he alive?”

Mathers looked up and nodded, but his expression told that Ford wouldn’t live much longer. Ben dropped to his bloodied knees and bent over his smaller friend. He cradled the stubble-covered head like a child’s and held him close. He had his friend back. A member of his family. But how close to dying was Chevy? Had he put his ship and crew through all this to get Ford back only t have him die here, in Ben’s arms? Time seemed to stretch out impossibly long as Ben knelt there in the broken glass, holding on to Chevy.

Tears flowed freely down the big man’s face. They were still there when the trauma team arrived to get the commodore. Just as the medics cleared the parted door, Tenseiga reeled from the impact of a direct hit to her shields.
-------


...more to cum...

--thu guv!

[Czar Mohab]

Of all the Klingons, in all the galaxy, in all the universe, why, oh why, must that one live? Not like *I* have any preference to ol' Rell there, just seems a might bit peculiar that he'd get away... Unless of course you plan on letting him rot on the rock, in which case a ST:2 "KAHN!!!!" scream is in order...

Czar "Silly Rell must... have some sort of conclusion" Mohab

[Commander Maxillius]

After reading *all* the Endeavour series, I have to say that I'm *very* eagerly awaiting the next chapter! 

[Governor Ronjar]

Damn, son. You're quick to catch up!

More coming soon.

--rog

[Czar Mohab]

Damn, son. You're quick to catch up!

More coming soon.

--rog

Never soon enough... lol

Czar "Please, sir, may I have some more?" Mohab

[Grim Reaper]

I love this more and more. It has all the blood sweat tears of a Gemmell. And I love Gemmell.


So  GIMME MORE!

(CM: j/k - just liked the sign)

[Commander Maxillius]

When I get hooked on a story I absorb myself in it.  I found myself thinking this would *rock* on TV.  Like a miniseries or something.

[Governor Ronjar]

I was thinking an HBO series...

Nudity, violence, cursing. Short, 9-10 episode seasons.

--guv

[Commander Maxillius]

Star Trek meets The Sopranos with a bit of Jeff Foxworthy and Red Dwarf thrown in the mix...


I like it!

[Governor Ronjar]

Well, I wasn't planning on posting it tonight, but I'm here and I'm bored, so what the hay...

And as Paul Harvey says: 'And now...the Rest of The Story!'

CH. 8 (Pt. 2)




“Direct hit, aft shields!” Called off Lieutenant Kurita. “Deflectors down to twenty percent.”

“We’ve got damage to the port impulse drive!” Came from engineering.

Lieutenant Surall steeled herself to the conn and held on for the rough ride. “Ahead maximum impulse power. Bearing 127 mark 070.” She ordered them. This course would follow the Klingon ship as she herself broke away from the combat. The D-7 had been identified as Captain Dath’mar’s Pang, much as she’d suspected. The much larger cruiser was carving a swath of death through the Ya’wenn ranks and had even fired two volleys down onto the planet surface.

Tenseiga swung round almost like a top and pushed ahead. Her maximum speed was hobbled a bit from the hard hit from those torpedoes, but she was already climbing past point six of light. Three enemy escort sized ships lingered in the Pang’s wake, damaged but operable. Dath’mar opened up with his aft photon launcher, and further reduced that number to two. Without larger ships, the Ya’wenn had been just completely outclassed today. Tenseiga had been lucky.

Would that luck hold out?

Those two escorts lined up on the Tenseiga, traveling at low impulse. Their magnetron cannon blazed with white light as they drew the power to fire.

“Starboard evasive!” The Vulcan XO ordered, her voice high pitched and sounding just a bit savage. Torres threw the ship into a sharp dive and turned her right, bearing away from the two hostiles.

The enemy opened up with a full onslaught. Their heavy cannon raked the length of the Tenseiga. The shields held off several thousand watts of particle energy, but the blasts just kept coming. The seventh hit crashed through the aft shields. Tenseiga shuddered like a car hit by a charging bull and was accelerated ahead. Sparks blew from overheated breakers mounted in the bridge ceiling and the after lighting failed. Another shot sailed through. By the sudden crushing sensation felt through the deck plating, the acting XO could discern that the hull had been compromised.

The next three hits scored damage through the port deflector screen. Decompression alarms wailed as crewmen began to cry out in fear and pain at the punishment the ship was suffering. Surall forced her eyes fully open to look upon the tactical displays. Ya’wenn ships were closing in, and the two attackers were even now following… But the way was almost clear!

“Helm! Come left thirty degrees. Nav! Plot a straight course out of here!”

“Aye!” Came the frightened and unsure replies. Surall had to fight to stay erect in the conn with the continued hits. The starboard shields were about to fail next. Then the dorsal screen. Damage lights were flashing all over the monitors at the engineering station. Alarms assailed the ears.

Tenseiga struggled and fought her way about, making that final turn. Another weapon strike clove the armor cowling from her starboard warp nacelle. Were it not for that extra piece of armor, the day would have ended right then.

“Warp speed!”

Tenseiga leapt ahead as though all the punishment she’d just taken meant nothing. Her warp engines sang in altered key, resonating loudly through the damaged structure. But the ship was making good her escape.

“Report on the Pang?” The XO asked.

The acting science officer slowly turned the seat to face the bridge center. The man there was disheveled and sweating, but relief roiled on his face like the tides of an ocean. “The Pang engaged cloak just a moment before we engaged warp flight. No further trace exists.”

“Maintain acceleration. Navigator, set a return course for the Endeavour circumnavigating the plasma field.” We’re in no shape to dodge around in that storm, Surall added in her mind.

“Status report!”

Surall turned at the sound of the bellow, seeing Captain Thomas emerge from the starboard lift. The slim Vulcan officer vacated the conn and stood aloft, hands clasped tightly at her back. “We are withdrawing from the Kovarn System, Captain. We had the assistance of the IKS Pang.”

Thomas paused at the sound of that fact. He glance up to the black viewer and the traveling star steaks it depicted. The captain’s face was a bloody pulp and half of his right ear hung in gory shreds. He was entirely covered in dirt and chips of stone. His eyes were swelling shut. But he was smiling. Sort of…

“Damage report?”

Surall looked to the engineering officer. The young man at that station turned to them and began to read off the butcher’s bill. “We’ve suffered several direct hits to the after hull. Engineering took a near hit and suffered a fire casualty near the main coolant pumps. Fire is out and the watch detail reports no chance of it flaring back up. The starboard power coupling was entirely severed and is non-operational. Aft phasers are off line. The port impulse drive is badly damaged. Heavy structural damage is being reported along the entire aft casing and we have four separate hull breaches on decks three through five. Main power is stable with full auxiliary power available. More reports are coming in, but that’s the worst so far, sirs.”

Thomas looked from the ensign to his XO. Surall stood perfectly still under the scrutiny. After a long moment of silence, Thomas nodded and smiled again. “Got help from Dath’mar, huh? Don’t figure he’d like a big ‘thank you’, do ya’?”

“Not likely. Given the Captain’s disposition toward his former captors, he was likely more than happy to cause whatever harm he could when given the opportunity.” Surall began to turn toward the science station, ready to return to her post. Ben grasped her shoulder in a rough, but encouraging manner.

“Good work, Lieutenant. Damn good work.”

“Thank you, sir.” She replied, bowing her head in respect as she ascended the two steps to the operations level of the bridge. Ben stepped up to the command dais and assumed his command chair. His body ached and screamed for relief. He chafed at the seams of his tactical uniform. His knuckles and head pounded, competing with each other for dominance. But Thomas felt more at peace now than ever before.

A moment of pause touched him, however. He pondered what the ultimate cost of this rescue had been in terms of mortal lives. His hand descended to the intercom panel on the left armrest and hovered there. Was he afraid to find out? What was too high of a cost to retrieve a Starfleet commodore who also happened to be your friend?

He tapped the key.

“Sickbay, Captain. Casualty report.”

The reply was slow in coming. Likely the low ranking medical officer had his hands full down there. Finally there came a voice at the other end of the circuit. “Seventeen injured, Captain. Three of those severe. That doesn’t include the commodore. Most of the injuries stem from the hull breaches in the after hull spaces. Exposure and decompression damage. Lacerations from flying debris. Luckily we didn’t lose anyone to space.”

“And Ford’s condition?”

“Stable, Captain. Any longer down there and he’d have bled out. We’re giving him AB Positive right now and he’s resting.” The doctor told him.

Thomas drew a slow, relieved breath. While he would still have ordered the mission to get Chevy back at the risk of his crew, he knew neither he nor Ford would sleep well with the death of even one man on his conscious. This had been a hell of a risk. The information Ford possessed would have mandated the attempt anyway. But Thomas hadn’t waited to confer with higher-ups that might have ordered him not to go. He’d made the decision on his own. Had he failed it would all have been on his shoulders. As it was, he’d likely receive a severe reprimand or even lose his short-lived commission.

“Steady as she goes, helm.” Thomas sighed as his ship cruised on. He began to relax burning muscles in his back and leaned back in his command chair. The white upholstery would need a major cleaning tomorrow. But for now, he didn’t care.





Bronstien triggered his communicator.

“Destruct package?”

Spec 1 McCoy’s voice came back more clearly than any time previously. But this only allowed the Lieutenant to hear the uncertainty there even more. “Ready, sir. I’ve got the overload programmed and ready. At ten seconds before the fusion cores go, the upper deuterium tanks will open their purge valves and flood the lower impulse decks and the dorsal.”

Yeah, Johnathan thought to himself, that should just about blow the bitch clean in two...

“Good. Get down to the hanger and get ready to leave.”

“Aye, sir. What about you? It’s a good five minutes down to the shuttle bay from Aux. Con. without the turbolifts.”

Johnathan gave a shrug the Spec couldn’t see.

“You let me worry about that, Specialist. Most of the grav plating is offline in the dorsal section anyway. I’ll be fine. You just get down there and make sure I have a shuttle pod to get to.”

“Aye, sir.”

Bronstien replaced the comm unit to his belt and looked again to the tactical repeater on his operations board. The Ya’wenn were slowing to impulse power and nearing weapons range. His options were badly limited. Without shields, he could not hope to keep the enemy from beaming aboard and taking the ship. Additionally, he didn’t have the weapons capacity to keep them out of transporter range. All he had was three operational shuttle pods assembled from the lower hanger bay and a threat.
The lieutenant decided it was time to use one of those items now. He keyed open the shuttle Jet’s hailing frequencies. “Ya’wenn vessel, this is Lieutenant Bronstien aboard the USS Endeavour. Approach no further!”

He waited a second, knowing the enemy would not heed him. Well, he’d have to give them a reason to… “If you make any attempt to board this ship, I will destroy it! And I swear to God I’ll take a piece of you with me!”

Johnathan blinked. The pulsing icon on his screen altered its approach. Was it slowing? No, the aspect difference meant a course change. The Ya’wenn escort was turning to port… Turning AWAY from the Endeavour! The lieutenant gaped in open amazement at the abrupt turn of events. Were the Ya’wenn cutting their losses? That didn’t make sense. In their place, he would have simply called the Starfleet officer’s bluff and tried to take the ship anyway. The possibility of gaining superior technology through the capture of a wreck was worth the risk of the handful of men it would take to capture it.

Why, then, were they turning away now?

The Ya’wenn escort increased velocity and warped away. Checking the ship’s course, he plotted the craft as headed back to the Tempest. A trick? Plying his hands to the control board that operated the shuttle pod’s sensors. He has to know what was going on. The cone of long range sensor coverage swept to port with agonizing slowness. The answer came through his communicator.

“USS Endeavour, this is the Constellation. Please respond.”

Johnathan paused in surprise. He stared at the glowing images on the sensor screen before him. Yes, there was the transponder of a Constellation-Class starship, approaching from the opposite direction from the Ya’wenn. The identification codes were right… Why, then, could he not believe this?

He snatched the communicator from his belt and jerked it open.

“Constellation, this is Lieutenant Johnathan Bronstien. Please identify who’s speaking.”

There was a muffled laugh from the other end of the link.

“This is Captain Dan Jeremy. We’re three days out from Starbase 12. Admiral Sharp ordered us to lend you a tow home.” The other said. Johnathan still had trouble believing. There was an old saying: ‘Seeing is believing.’ Bronstien’s hand fell back to the sensor controls. He keyed up the telescopic array and focussed it on the location of the approaching ship.

There he saw a thick, wide saucer marked with wide shuttle bay doors and heavily armored casings. Two short warp nacelles stood above the main hull, and two more below. There was no mistaking a Constellation-Class heavy cruiser. Its formation lights flashed back at him like a beacon of safety amid a stormy sea. At last, John found himself smiling.

“I’m damn glad to see your ship, Captain. We’ve got a mess over here.”






Epilogue





There was a grand throng of Endeavour survivors gathered in and about the docking hatch that interlinked Starbase 23 with the newly arrived USS Tenseiga. The noise of the anxious, happy crewmen and officers filled the room as surely as any mass of people would. Jonathan Sharp could hear nothing else as he entered the gangway. Some commanders might have ordered security to clear a path into the area, to free it of the mob. Sharp knew that he could compel them to move back on his own.

He didn’t see the necessity of dampening the elated mood of these trodden Starfleet personnel. They needed this victory after the beating they’d taken. This would do them all good, and would also be good medicine for the man about to disembark that escort.

Sharp had put aside thoughts of taking Commander Thomas to task over his impromptu rescue mission. The outcome had been a tremendous success. Knocking Thomas down for such an action would only compel other commanders to take less initiative when it was needed.

The admiral pushed his way through about ten feet worth of pressed crew. After this distance, the enlisted men notice just who it was pushing through. A call went up, and a path cleared all the way to the cycling airlock doors. Sharp walked steadily up to the hatch and turned to face his assembled men and women. Endeavour’s CO had quite a zealous and loyal following. Sharp held a wizened, white palmed hand up to quite the men. This single action brought the noise level down to less than a decibel.
“Settle down, people!” He boomed at them with a good-natured smile. He turned to the lock and waited with his men for the door to open. After another few seconds, the alarm buzzed and the heavy doors slid open.

Commodore Ford was dressed in service trousers and a clean white shirt. He was clean-shaven, head and face, leaving only his eyebrows intact. His ages old goatee was gone. He was pale and he stooped forward as he led the Tenseiga group out of the airlock collar. Ben Thomas stood close by, a hand out and near to his friend’s shoulder; ready but not quite touching. Chevis looked up with a surprised smile at the huge group of people.

The Endeavour survivors burst out into wild cheers at the sight of his grin. Ford faltered, moved by the applause, and nearly fell. Thomas’s waiting hand found the commodore’s armpit and held him up with little effort. Ford glanced back with gratitude. When he looked back to forward, it was with tears in his eyes. Sharp moved in and held out his hand.

Chevis took the hand and grasped it loosely. He had no grip left. But he gave Sharp a solid shake. Jon leaned in and found himself wrapping his arms completely around his former protégé. Sharp laughed out loud at his uncommon display of friendship and hugged the commodore tightly. Chevy hugged just as tight, his voice slurred with emotion at the greeting.

“I’m damn glad to be back home!”

“Welcome home, Chevy!” Jonathan told him, releasing him after a few moments. He helped Thomas support the returning starship commander as he started toward the waiting throng of greeters and well-wishers. Ford smiled wide and shook hands that stuck out from every angle and direction. Sharp saw Davenport, Tolin, Nechayev and Goodwin among the first that Chevis met and spoke to. Ford thanked each and every crewman and junior officer as he took their hand. The admiral watched the shorter man go, steadily, if slowly, making his way out of the docking port. Another familiar face caught his eye.

She caught Ford’s eye too.

The crowd parted just enough to allow Ford to see Doctor Andrea Keller as she emerged from the after portion of the airlock support space. Ford halted at the sight of her. He couldn’t move. Sharp saw him smiling grandly.

Andrea’s hands were raised to her mouth. Her eyes were red and glistened with tears. She just stood, unmoving, and stared at the man she’d shared herself with. Ford cocked his head aside, knowing she must be stricken. Sharp felt a hollow space form in his stomach. Why was she just standing there?

Ford waved her closer, uncertain.

Andrea shook her head, turned and, wringing her hands, ran from the docking bay.

Sharp’s almond eyes stared in wide-open shock at the display he’d just seen. He looked to his friend. Ford just stared ahead, unresponsive and dumb. Thomas pushed close, the expression staining his stone face one of anger and protective empathy. The behemoth would probably put his fist through her face when next he saw the CMO. Sharp stepped ahead of Ford and looked down at him with sympathy and confusion.

“What was that?”

Ford shook his head and stared at nothing. He stooped so low now that Thomas pushed in and took the commodore’s arm over his wide shoulder. “I don’t know… I guess I did something wrong…”


END.

[Grim Reaper]

I'd think that would be hard yeah, having finally come to terms with losing the one you love and then having that person back alive and relativly well. Shocking.

And I like the cameraderie.

One nit though: Thomas is hurt bad and a) nobody says anything about it and b) nobody does anything about it?
Not even a hypo?

[Commander Maxillius]

Thomas seems like the type that would say, "I'm good" after blowing half his face off when lighting a barbecue with a half can of lighter fluid.  He was probably offered hypos, nearly ordered to sickbay for treatment on the Tensiega, and all refused with an "I'm fine".  He'll probably drink himself stupid later and *then* get treated in the morning.

Great job, Guv, I really got into that one!  Especially where Dath'mar dropped in to assist and fought without saying a word coming or going to Tensiega.  Gotta admit, though, that Thomas's idea would've went up in an anti-matter blaze if it weren't for Dath'mar.  May he always be that lucky!

I await the next story eagerly!

[Commander La'ra]

Yeah, that was a good 'un.  Had an energy to it, from start to finish, that's different from the rest of the Endeavour stories.  That only makes sense due to the fact that we're following a different captain on a different ship through most of it.  Action was well done and never stopped moving.  Loved the aborted confrontation between Rell and Thomas, and as I told you over IM, I think Thomas' transporter 'ghost' still striking Rell was creepy and cool at the same time, and is one of my favorite individual incidents fro your stuff.

Note that I agree with Grim on the 'Thomas is hurt' issue, but I also agree with Maxillus as to Thomas' likely reaction to it.  Not sure I'd slow down the final scenes with a medic suggesting treatment...we probably know enough about Thomas to infer his response by this point.

Dath'mar's silence when aiding the Tenseiga, btw, is the most 'you' thing about this story.

[Czar Mohab]

So the general consensus is that Thomas skipped treatment with an "I'm fine" and a cold one? I don't see it that way... I see it as he snaked past doc just to avoid the issue all together, and then just ignored everyone else's comments about the injuries, then had a cold one.

I'd hate to be the poor sap that has to clean his chair...

Looking forward to #11, would really like to see if Endeavor gets any new toys during the upcoming overhaul. I likes me some new toys

All in all, great tale start to finish.

Czar "Waitin' on 11" Mohab, who notes that a one that is not cold is hardly a one at all.

[Governor Ronjar]

The individual Mr Thomas is based on once had a wreck on my road, late at night. He flipped his Isuzu Pup at least twice and landed in a ditch on the opposite end of the road, facing BACK the way he'd come from. During these flips, Ben was hit in the face and head 3-6 times with a loose basketball he'd had rolling around in the cab.

Ben got out of his vehicle, kicked and cursed it till he woke up the owner of the yard his truck was resting in. He then ensued upon cursing her till she went back into her home. He set out walking back to my house, arriving 20 minutes later. Mind you, 12 years ago, there were no street light on my road at all. He knocks at my door, tells me he'd had a wreck and needs a ride home. Then he sits down on my couch and has a 'cold one' as offered by my Dad.

He remained awake, wary of a concussion [he's a former football player in school (not sissy rugby or soccer mind you, real, full-on football where the object in high school is to hit the other guy hard enough to put him in that nice shiny ambulence at the 50 yard line)] and contiunued to nurse his beer till we could arrange to get him home.

Commander Benjamin Thomas would not give a second thought to any such injuries (hell, they weren't THAT bad anyway...). I try to emulate such in my stories, and quite honestly...the idea of his crew tending to him never once entered my mind. Though, I DID think about the poor sap who'd be cleaning the chair.

I'm very happy y'all enjoyed. I enjoyed writing this 'un, and even though Andy doesn't see fit to post his thought on it (nudging...) even though he's on here every day (nudging further) I think it's one of the better of mine to date. My favorite, thus far, however, is the next one, #11.

I'll be posting more soon!

c ya!

--thu guv!

[Commander La'ra]

Since I got to see the aftermath of the carnage in the above true story, you can see why *I* wasn't surprised by Thomas' behavior.

Let's not forget his propensity for finding deer in that same Isuzu Pup.

[Scottish Andy]

Hi Guv,

Sorry, RL Stuff interferring with reading long posts. I'm finally caught up and I really like this one. I too liked the 'Ghost of Thomas' phantom-hitting Rell. I had in my mind the image of Kirk and Kruge fighting on Genesis, though your descriptions are a lot more brutal than can be shown in a PG film. Thomas' "one more second!" cursing was exactly like Kirk getting beamed up just a little too early from Rura Penthe, too.

As far as I know, the "armour cowling" for the Akyazi's warp engines are a "warp field reflector" to give it a speed boost like the Orion suicide ship had in 'Journey to Babel'. Admittedly, I think I like your idea of armour better.

he's a former football player in school (not sissy rugby or soccer mind you, real, full-on football where the object in high school is to hit the other guy hard enough to put him in that nice shiny ambulence at the 50 yard line)

Yeah well the object of the game in football is to score goals, and to do it with skill and finesse rather than putting on a tank and trying to hospitalise your opponent. Rugby incorporates parts of the "bash through them" approach, though there again the point is not to smash you opponent, but to shove them out the way so you can keep going. I'd take a rugby player any day over an American "footballer" as a bodyguard and a bruiser.

I too like that Dath'mar drops in, blows away a few Ya'wenn, and disappears without saying a word to his "ally". Very "Klingon that doesn't like Feds, but maybe respects them".

Dr. Keller's reaction was shocking, but by doing that you managed not to go for what is known in certain circles as "The Scooby-Doo Ending". I agree with Grim that resigning yourself to having lost someone and have them return from the grave is world-shattering, and if you're an emotionally or socially distant person who was already turning bitter, her reaction was almost understandable.

Good story.

[Governor Ronjar]

As far as I know, the "armour cowling" for the Akyazi's warp engines are a "warp field reflector" to give it a speed boost like the Orion suicide ship had in 'Journey to Babel'. Admittedly, I think I like your idea of armour better.



Yeah well the object of the game in football is to score goals, and to do it with skill and finesse rather than putting on a tank and trying to hospitalise your opponent. Rugby incorporates parts of the "bash through them" approach, though there again the point is not to smash you opponent, but to shove them out the way so you can keep going. I'd take a rugby player any day over an American "footballer" as a bodyguard and a bruiser.

Coolness! Andy replies!

Yeah, I wouldn't want a 'footballer' for a body guard. Hate to have him distracted from keeping me safe by spotting something shiny due to too many concussions. The average football player in the US has had so much head trama that they're delusional and have fits of demensia [as mentioned in a Mike Ditka interview when he persued better medical insurance for NFL players this year].

I never read any of the technical specifics on the Akyazi. I looked at the pretty picture and the deck plans, counted phaser and torpedo mounts and crew compliment. The standard Akyazi is the only one of the designs I liked as the whole hoop thing looked gawky and would make an excellent target. My version of said vessel has armor cowlings on the engines, as I imagine the hull being paper thin in the fashion of American DDs and FFs. And even toying with a fight scene discription in a coming story to better exemplify such.

I'm happy you enjoyed. Yours is one of the opinions I seek after when posting here. You seem to think up thinks in critical fashion that I hadn't even thought of and keep me on my toes. You absence from my stories is missed, though I wasn't trying to be a bitch, or anything  .

And yes, part of my reason for throwing in Keller's reaction was indeed to avoid the 'Scooby-Doo ending'. Given the 'luck' involved in Tenseiga reaching the planet not once, but twice, Dath'mar's arrival and assistance, Thomas' hail Mary leap [and not getting shot] and his plummet into the crevasse [without becoming calk beneath a huge rock], I decided that there was just an extraordinary amount of karma being bent on the successful extraction of the commodore. Thus the jaded ending.

I am behind in editing and 'Andy-proofing' Story #11, so it'll be at least a week before I post CH. 1 of the next episode. More to come, tho!

--thu guv!

[Commander La'ra]

I never read any of the technical specifics on the Akyazi.

The Akyazi, when you take the SoTSF stuff to heart, is more than a little munchkin-ish, so you'd have probably changed it up quite a bit even if you HAD read it.

[Scottish Andy]

'Andy-proofing'

Can I mention again just how much I like this phrase?

It's good to be wanted/needed. I'm glad I make you think of new stuff, Guv. I'm even more glad that you're open to it. Looking forward  to #11.