Topic: Jumping on Kadh's Bandwagon (I liked the tune)

[Scottish Andy]

Hi all, I shall be starting a story in similar fashion to what Kadh is doing with his 'Derelict' thread. Instead of my painstaking attention to detail and story plotting and intense character pieces, I shall be - for want of a better term - spit-balling. Making it up as I go along. Having seen just how good the Guv and Smithy are at their styles, and how prolific they are, I'm going to give it a go.

It is my intention to come up with a few hundred words each day, and have them posted between 5pm and 6pm. I'm not sure how it wiill work out, but here goes. Expect the first section by the end of today.

Any and all constructive commenting is welcome, though I know the theme of "waiting for the meat of the story" runs rampant.

[kadh2000]

Heh, caught one.  I've realized that I can't post it every day, but I do it when I can.  It's been fun finding out where this story's going.

It has inspired me to work on something that has taken a little more prep.  So I've got something in the pipeline.  Probably won't post any of it until it's completely finished so I know that I'll get to the end.

[James Smith]

Having seen just how good the Guv and Smithy are at their styles

  

Cheers for the compliment, dude! Will be reading with interest. I never could stick to a timetable of writing and posting - hence the usual pattern you see of a flurry of updates for a while, then nothing for a couple of months, then another flurry, then nothing.....

[Commander La'ra]

Good idea.  Now where the hell is the bit you wrote today?

[Scottish Andy]

Prologue – Pulling out of the Station

Stardate 8390.45
9th October 2286
2136 hours

Captain Krek leaned forwards in his command throne and stared balefully, fretfully at the viewscreen. Captured there, in all its watery glory, was the homeworld of the most insidious and persistent enemy the Empire had ever known.

Planet Earth.

He switched his gaze to the tactical repeater. It seemed that the Earthers had learned their lesson from their so-called “V’Ger Incident”, as space was literally crawling with Federation starships of all varieties.

His now automatic check of the status boards showed that his D5-class cruiser was cloaked and on minimal power for silent running. No active sensors were powered up, but there was no need for them. The passives were picking up starships, spacecraft, and stations by the dozen. Scores of shipyards, admin stations, cargo transfer stations, orbital factories, aerostat mining facilities over the four gas giants, defensive orbital weapons, active sensor platforms and their coordination stations… the list went on.

Interplanetary traffic was measured in the hundreds. Looking at the status readout for local space, he saw many things: cruise liners touring Jupiter and Saturn; large interplanetary shuttles taking people between stations, moons, and planets; megaton bulk freighters that dwarfed his warship; Federation police cruisers and Starfleet corvettes that he out-massed by four times or more; travel pods and admin shuttles darting around the nearest planets; tankers carrying the refined gasses mined from the giants to starbase fuel bunkers.

Of more interest to him was the plethora of Starfleet starships littering the vicinity. There was easily a score of cruisers in the various docks and on patrol around the system, and a further dozen destroyer-class ships closer to the outskirts of the system. He knew that if his ship betrayed one electronic, gravitic, subspace, or electromagnetic squeak he would be instantly pounced on by five cruisers, with all the others only minutes behind if needed.

Krek doubted he’d get more than one opportunity to surrender – if he got one at all, after they’d scanned his payload.

He also had to be wary of stealthed passive sensor arrays, lying in wait and no doubt scattered in depth within the confines of the solar system. This was why, after making it so deeply into Federation space with judicious use of the cloaking device and naturally shielding terrain and phenomena, he had worked up to 10% of light speed for his final approach to the edge of the Earther’s home system and then shut down his entire ship. The navigational forcefield was on at the barest minimum of levels. The warp drive was stone cold. The impulse drives were likewise. The minimal crew he had for this mission – mainly consisting of engineers and sensor specialists – were huddled at the core of the ship and the outer compartments allowed to cool to almost absolute zero. Krek himself commanded his ship from the auxiliary control centre in the heart of the vessel. All to avoid detection on a mission that would change the course of the galaxy.

His hot yellow eyes flicked back to the image of the planet, still some 4 billion kellicams distant. That planet alone housed some 6 billion people. With all the colonies on other planets, moons, asteroids and orbital habitats, the system likely housed some 10 billion people in total, but those 6 billion were his primary concern.

In actual fact, likely less than a hundred thousand were his targets.

His orders were to eliminate the upper levels of the Federation and Starfleet bureaucracies in a classic decapitation strike. To have any change of success, though, necessitated the extreme stealth measures and the investment of almost a year of approach time. Because of the long mission timeframe, a final go/no-go transmission would authorise the strike, just in case after a year of radio silence the Federation suddenly became either friendly, conquered by other means, or otherwise vital to the survival of the Klingon Empire.

Now that he was here, though, he was beginning to harbour some doubts as to his mission. It could still be aborted, despite the incredible amounts of skill and luck used to get here, and the great suffering he and his crew had endured to place themselves. He had gathered an immense amount of tactical and economic information that could be put to good use. That would only be the case if the status quo remained in place.

He was here to kill off the Federation executive and Starfleet Command. Less than a hundred thousand people would be actively involved in these occupations on Earth, and yet his weapon would scour the surface, and with absolutely no warning.

To kill six billion people while striking like a thief from behind cover did not suit Krek’s sense of honour. As a loyal soldier of the Empire, however, he saw the need for a decisive strike that would eliminate the decades-old stalemate that slowly but surely strangled the Empire even as the Federation continued to grow stronger.

After a year of edging closer to his target and with only his own thoughts to keep him company, he was just no longer sure that this would be that strike. In fact, he was plagued by uncertainty.

Murder a whole planet, without giving them a change for honourable combat? A chance to face their slayer in battle?

The message had already been sent, after much internal debate, to High Command via a stealthed, directional, low-power comm. network Krek himself had laid down as he moved. It had been hours since it was likely received.

And now Krek was like a Tellarite in an Agony Booth, unable to relax or even sit still in his command throne. Once again, he gave it up and paced, ignoring the irritated flinches of his crew as he prowled. He could not share his thoughts even with his XO, as that one had been chosen for his political loyalty to the sponsors of this plan.

Before his thoughts could again turn even more torturous, a telltale lit up on the communications board.

As one, the entire bridge crew turned to face it, then their captain.

“Stations,” he growled, and everyone swung back, surly, simmering with repressed anger. The usual bloodletting had not been allowed on this voyage, as all crew members were considered vital – though ultimately expendable once the payload had been delivered.

“Divert to my quarters,” he snapped at the Comm Officer, who nodded to Krek’s retreating back.

*****

Safely in his electronically-shielded quarters, Krek decrypted the message.

"Go," it read.

Krek stared at it, eyes smouldering.

“Grethor take this flea-bitten targ-carcass of a mission!” he finally roared, all but leaping out of his chair.

It might do the job. It might not. He and his House would gain immortality from this deed, but again was no longer sure that this was a good thing.

He came to a decision. He pulled out his lucky darsek. The well worn coin had often helped him out in difficult situations, as far ranging as battle strategies to gambling instincts. It had never let him down yet. He ran his fingers over the flat, rectangular coin, set it on an edge on his desk, and expertly spun it with a flick of his wrist.

On this turn of the darsek, he decided, rested his honour and the future honour of his house. He would either deliver, or not. Whichever side came up, he would trust that he would retain his honour for preventing a crime of galactic proportions, or lauded for finally securing the dominance of the Klingon Empire for generations to come.

The darsek slowed, then toppled.

* Starting date edited. Decided I wanted an extra scene and direct connections to the movies.

[Commander La'ra]

Nice hook.  Especially liked the details on the way the Klingon ship (unnamed, incidentally) penetrated the Federation's defense, and the Captain's anger and uncertainty in regard to what he's been sent to do.  Klingons don't mope, after all.  They get pissy and throw stuff.

Ending on the coin flip was fun, though most of us who remember the thread know where you're going with this.  Hope to see more tomorrow.

[Scottish Andy]

Especially liked the details on the way the Klingon ship (unnamed, incidentally) penetrated the Federation's defense

Heh. I hope you caught the reference to you and yours in all that, Larry.

Plus, I'm spit-balling. I wasted enough time finding out the distances of the Heliopause and Oort cloud and Pluto's orbit and the current population of Earth and what Klingon money was and what it looked like and... *pauses for breath* ... to name a Klingon ship who may - or may not - become infamous the galaxy over. You may soon know its name.

But you get the point.

[James Smith]

Stardate 8390.45

Hey, I recognise that date.....

[Commander Maxillius]

Stardate 8390.45

Hey, I recognise that date.....

Hmmm...  8390.45....  2286...  which corresponds to 1986.....    hehe sweet

Can't wait to see where you're going with this

[kadh2000]

Not a big fan of alternative history.  I'll read it as long as I can stand it.

[Scottish Andy]

Hey, I recognise that date.....

Yup! It's shortly after the UFP Council session where the Klingon Ambassador storms out after proclaiming "There will be no peace while Kirk lives!"

Can't wait to see where you're going with this

Me either. I have an idea, but I'm not sure if I'm going to go that way in the end.

Not a big fan of alternative history.  I'll read it as long as I can stand it.

Noted. Not everyone is. I love it, though. Harry Turtledove rules!

[Scottish Andy]

Chapter One – Track Change

Stardate 8452.2
10th February 2287
0936 hours

The door to his quarters slid open and his best friend’s head popped in. “You ready?” Sulu asked expectantly.

Why he didn’t just walk in was anyone’s guess, but Chekov favoured him with a suppressed smirk. “I am just gathering some—“

“Forget that, Pavel, let’s go already!” the helmsman urged excitedly. “This was your idea, remember?”’

“Yes, I know, but I don’t want us getting lost while we’re—“

“Pavel,” Sulu interrupted again, mock hurt. “You’re one of the best navigators in the Fleet. I’m the best helmsman in the Fleet. I’m sure between us we can both find our way around the forests of Germany without any technology to help us!”

“Famous last vords, old friend,” Chekov glowered at him. “The reason ve are who ve are is because ve take dees precautions!” Countless similar good-natured accusations from both Sulu and Uhura came back to him from over his years as Security Chief about being over-prepared and it had become something of a running joke between them. Chekov knew that in each case his instincts had been borne out by circumstances, and after the first few times so had his friends, but the habit remained. It was the losses his Security teams had taken despite all his preparedness that still stuck his enjoyment of the joke in his throat.

Sulu’s excited grin dropped to a warm smile of deeper understanding instead. He nodded, acknowledging the thoughts he knew his friend was having, then moved on.

“We only came back up to the Enterprise to grab a change of clothes and give some notification as to our next destination for our shore leave. We’ve told Uhura, and I see we’ve both changed. Now, let’s get going.”

“Wery vell,” Pavel sighed. “Our travel pod is still docked to the bridge? It hasn’t been claimed by Scotty’s engineering teams?”

“Last I heard. We’d better hurry though,” Sulu encouraged him again. “If we lose that pod, we can’t get over to the dock for hours and we can’t ‘borrow’ a shuttle to take us to Germany.”

Throwing on his jacket Chekov followed Sulu out into the deserted corridors of the Enterprise, her crew all on shore leave and the ship herself currently in her Post-Shakedown Availability, fixing the bugs that had shown up during their shakedown cruise. As with all progress, things got worse before they could get better, and the new Enterprise was currently a shambles as Chief Engineer Scott and his teams struggled to strip systems down and piece them back together in the right order.

A short argument with the turbolift later—“Cossack,” Chekov was heard to grumble as they finally got moving—and they were on the bridge, confirming that their pod was indeed still there.

“Well Uhura, off we go again,” Sulu told her jovially, winking at her and tilting his head at his perpetually-dour companion.

“Well, you boys take care now, “ Acting Captain Uhura told her long-time friends. “We wouldn’t want you getting…”

Uhura trailed off as the deck below them all shuddered slightly, her eyes quickly sweeping over the all the bridge status displays. With no one else on duty what with the ship powered down and in dry-dock, there was no one to get a report from.

However, years of training and honed instincts took over. Uhura leapt for the comm. boards while Chekov manned the Science station and Sulu took over Tactical.

Sulu could detect nothing threatening on the scanners, but the longer he looked the more starships and orbital stations he saw go to full shields and begin arming weapons. At a bit of a loss, he exchanged a quick, troubled look with Uhura who was wading through a massive increase in comm. chatter, but neither had the time to do more than meet eyes before Chekov’s horrified, anguished cry sent fear chasing up and down their spines.

“Nyet… Oh for the love of God Almighty, NO!!!!”

“Pavel!” Sulu shouted.

Chekov worked Spock’s station for a frantic few seconds, but he couldn’t speak to them. Instead he activated the main viewer, and before he turned to look, Sulu could see tears streaming down his face.

The main screen came on with the view of a ravaged planet. Sulu’s question of where this had happened died unspoken as he recognized the angle of the view – aft, through the nacelles of the Enterprise herself. Uhura choked off a sob, but then couldn’t hold back the tears as the horrifying, sanity-defying truth became evident.

Sulu’s mind windmilled, refusing to accept what he saw. But it was unmistakeable. All the orbital stations and repair docks, the giant TerraMain spacedock, all in clear view framed what was indisputably his home planet.

And Earth was burning.

Across the entire surface of the world, a ravening fire worse than any ten nuclear holocausts had scoured the delicate whites, blues, greens, and browns and replaced them almost instantly with a brutal, carbon-scored black broken by jagged cracks of vivid yellow orange.

Chekov had dropped into Spock’s chair, his legs no longer able to hold him up. Sulu braced himself as well he could at the Nav/Weapons console, but he too finally had to sit down.

Spock! The Captain! Dr. McCoy! Janice! Christine! Sulu spun around to face the centre seat, then Chekov in the science officer’s chair. He met the eyes of his closest friends and saw the knowledge in there too.

Practically the entire crew was on Earth for shore leave… he thought in empty despair. Chekov looked bleakly back at him and pulled himself up out of Spock’s chair.

“Ve…” he said, his voice breaking. He stopped and tried again. “Ve haf to find out vhat happened. To the Keptin. To our shipmates. And to our vorld.” He looked meaningfully at his friends. “Ve haf to find out who is still alive.”

Uhura had stilled her crying. Tears ran freely down her face still, but with a ferociousness that belied those tears, she meticulously tore apart the overlapping comm. channels with her twenty-plus years of experience. After several minutes, she collected herself and summarized what she had discovered.

“No one knows what happened. One moment all was fine, the next, a massive explosion was observed in France, centered on Paris, and within three minutes had swept over the entire surface of Earth. I’ve copied sensor images of the event. Onscreen now.”

As one, they turned to the main viewer again.

Obviously from a starship on low orbit in the Italian shipyards, the sensor record showed a good thirty seconds of nothing, then—

“A Genesis torpedo!?!” Chekov shouted.

The effect spread over mainland Europe to engulf the European Union, the British Isles vanishing in a flash as the much vaunted Genesis process reorganized the eons-old features of the Old World in favour of its new matrix. Unstoppable, the effect washed over the rest of the planet until nothing was recognisable and the birthworld of their species, the home and hub of the most benevolent union yet encountered in known space, was rendered as hideous to behold as the Genesis planet itself, mere minutes before that world blew itself apart.

“Uhura, Lass, can ye hear me?”

Scotty’s voice came over the intercom and shattered the horrified silence that blanketed the bridge.

”Yes, Scotty, I’m here,” she responded. “Pavel and Hikaru are with me.”

Apparently missing her tear-clogged voice, the burly Scot said, “Ah’ve just run an exhaustive check on that vibration we felt. It wiznae th’ ship or onythin’ we did, so Ah’ wiz wonderin’ if those clods over at dock control had a wobble in their tractor beams?”

“Scotty…” Nyota began, then fell silent. How do you tell someone their homeworld has been destroyed in the time it takes to run a diagnostic?

“Aye, Lass?” the engineer responded patiently.

“Scotty, you’d better get up here.”

******

“Okay Uhura, what’s all this about?” he asked as soon as he stepped off the bridge turbolift.

As designed, he was immediately distracted by the glowing ember of a planet on the viewscreen and the gut-punched look on all his crewmates’ faces.

Montgomery Scott took in the view, eyes narrowing at first in concentration, then widening again in disbelieving shock. There was no mistaking the view past the nacelles of his own ship.

He swung on Uhura. “No,” he stated, his low-voiced denial a question the begged a confirmation.

Maintaining a tenuous control, Acting Captain Nyota Uhura nodded and pushed out, “Yes. Earth. Now.” She hit a button and played the realtime recording again.

Scotty swung back to the screen, then blindly reached for the rail that surrounded the command deck after he recognised the Genesis effect. “Not bloody possible…” he whispered, staring at the back of the command chair. His mind refused to process the enormity of the calamity, but, as with his friends before him, the smaller scale of his own close-knit shipboard community forced it through his denial. “Th’ captain and the others?”

“We have no information, Scotty,” Uhura told him softly. “If they were on the planet ten minutes ago, then…”

“Ten minutes?” Scotty processed that. “You mean this was the cause of the deck tremor?”

“The Genesis effect...” Chekov put in hollowly, then broke off. He looked as if he was trying to go further but couldn't. The science may not be in dispute, but it certainly felt that reason had fled the universe in these moments. Not even decades of training and experience – and even seeing this happen to other worlds – could prepare you for it happening to your own.

“Mah home…” the engineer whispered. “Mah family…”

Uhura spun away and squeezed her eyes shut, unable to block out the images of cousins, aunts, uncles, students, friends, colleagues… literally, billions of people, gone in a virtual instant.

“Who…?” Scotty murmured next, his practical, unsentimental side pushing at him already. There was a problem. An engineer’s job… a Scot’s upbringing… A man’s very nature cried out to fix it! Find the cause. How it was done. How it could be fixed… or reversed.

Or prevented.


* Edited for Larry's suggestion.

[Czar Mohab]

With a writing style of "off the cuff" I can only say, make sure its been Andy-proofed... 

But I doubt that you'll have any issues with that.

Czar "I can't post more because of this 'feeling' I have" Mohab, who notes, Its good so far.

[Governor Ronjar]

See how well you can do without beating yourself over the head for perfection.

I'm glad to see you've bitten onto this project, and can't wait to see where it goes. I am also grateful for the compliment as rendered above about style and proliferation and such. Thus far, you've got me hooked. I'm also eager to see who all appears in this story.

--thu guv!

[Commander La'ra]

The Guv gave some good advice, there, Andy.

As for my critique...cut back on the explanations.  It seems horribly out of place to me for a man who's just watched his home planet burn to explain why the Genesis effect caused the deck tremor felt a few moments before.  I know you thrive on detail, but that's a serious mood-killer in the last scene.  At least for me.

[Scottish Andy]

As for my critique...cut back on the explanations.  It seems horribly out of place to me for a man who's just watched his home planet burn to explain why the Genesis effect caused the deck tremor felt a few moments before.

Noted. I've altered that paragraph to reflect your critique. Thanks, Larry.

Thus far, you've got me hooked. I'm also eager to see who all appears in this story.

Thanks, Guv. I've decided this is going to be fairly widespread, if I manage to keep it going. Lots of passignly and very familiar faces should be making appearances, if not having starring roles.

Anyone else care to offer some commentary? I know you're out there!

[Commander Maxillius]

1. I was wrong about the time.  I thought you were going to have the Klingons encounter the whale-ship and a police cutter discover a klingon ship devoid of power adrift in the Sol system. Looks like you've chosen a darker path.

2. Make them pay.  Let Scotty and the Enterprise hunt them down and and make them pay.