Topic: Dirt  (Read 26909 times)

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Offline kadh2000

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Re: Dirt
« Reply #60 on: April 09, 2008, 01:11:28 am »
much better!
"The Andromedans," Kadh said, "will never stop coming.  Not until they are all destroyed or we are."

Offline Governor Ronjar

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Re: Dirt
« Reply #61 on: April 16, 2008, 10:24:05 pm »

CH. 12





Kurvis felt the stinging of a harsh slap on the cheek. His first thrust out catching the Gorn in the jaw. The Gorn growled and cursed Kurvis’s mother vehemently…

…in Klingonese…

The First Officer propped himself up on his bleeding elbows and looked Engineer Hekk in the eye. Confusion swirled in his adrenaline filled mind. Battle lust and fear fought for control. He was…in the fore transporter bay.

Commander Kurvis forced himself to focus on the nearest alert flasher as he reasoned out his current surroundings. This was no dream, no trick. He was back aboard Pang. “Status!”

Hekk jerked his wildly maned head back and glowered angrily down at him. “We have brought you back aboard!”

“Our mission?”

“Over…but not as we’d hoped!”

Kurvis stood quickly, noting but choosing to ignore the blood pouring into his boot. The bodies of his men lay gathered about him. They were all accounted for, even those he knew to be dead. All had been beamed home according to the signals of their pattern enhancers. Hekk was bending his aged frame down to drag Orna off the platform.

“The other teams?”

“I don’t know! Help me to drag these carcasses away so I can beam them in!”

Kurvis bent to help immediately and scooped up the slain corporal.

“Why did you not—“

“This is the only beam in operation! We’re lucky it is not tied into the primary array!” Hekk explained. This simple explanation began to shine light on the engineer’s earlier statement.

“What’s happened?”

“The main and secondary transport control systems failed catastrophically. All cargo and combat transporters are dead! We are aborting the mission!”

Kurvis let the corpse in his hands drop with a leaden thud. The gravity of Hekk’s words made the First Officer’s stomach fold. The mission was over. Whatever fertilizer they’d gotten would not be enough to allay disaster. The Galt colony would falter and fail in its next harvest. The Empire would suffer to no end… The misery of Praxis grew compounded even more.

The First grabbed the final Qas Dev and drew him clear as Hekk manned the control panel once again. The machinery beneath the platform began to moan as the shimmering masses of more soldiers, most standing, some not, began to coalesce.








“Reestablish cloak!”

The bark of the stealth alarm shouted within the confines of the bridge and the lighting grew dimmer. Only the flashing alert tracers and console controls provided light now. Commander I’rell swung her seat about with fright on her face. “Something is wrong!”

Dath’mar looked left as though he’d been suddenly slapped. The engineering console was littered with blinking and fluttering indicators, the subordinates standing there useless. The captain looked back to his science officer for answers. “Report!”

“There is no sensor hazing! The cloak is not functioning correctly!”

Dath’mar leapt out of his seat and landed next to the primary gunnery seat. He pointed to the auxiliary maintenance panel and watched as Lieutenant Shenna accessed the cloaking systems through it. His fingers clenched on the back of the gunnery chair like a talon within the throat of tender prey.

The damage caused by the transporter overload had done more harm than Hekk suspected. The cloaking array was nonfunctional. Standing slowly to his full height, the captain returned to his chair.

“Old ship…”

Pang staggered with strikes from ground weaponry all over again. Now the rounds struck unprotected hull. Damage alarms wailed out. Dath’mar dropped to one knee and clinged to the arm of the chair before him.

“Cut the cloak and restore shields!”

“Yes, Captain!”

The cloak alarms called out all over again and the commanding officer counted the moments before the protective sphere of the cruiser’s force fields would once again safeguard them. “Evasive!”

Pang took another blast from the rail gun below even as her starboard wing dipped with a sharp turn. Dath’mar climbed forcefully up to his seat and rightened himself. His only eye found the status board to the right of the main screen. The red circle surrounding his vessel told him the shields were back up. More rounds pounded on the ship’s retreating tail as she plied for safer reaches.

“Maintain evasive turns!”

Rail cannon had no effective range limit in the void of space. Only distance and erratic maneuver would keep them from taking further damage. The navigator looked up from her panels suddenly. “We are clear of orbit!”

“Warp speed!”

The roar of the ship’s drives ascended and filled the deck with its reverberations. Dath’mar sagged in his chair and watched as the stars slid past, depicting his failure.
'It's a lot of hard work being a mean bastard...' --Captain Eric Finlander, CO USS Bedford (The Bedford Incident)

'Jaken...are you pretending to be dead?' --Lord Sesshomaru, Inuyasha.

Offline Governor Ronjar

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Re: Dirt
« Reply #62 on: April 16, 2008, 10:29:54 pm »

CH. 13





“Damage report?”

Twenty hours had not bettered the captain’s mood. The failure of the day before still rode heavily upon his brow. Engineer Hekk looked up from the mass of melted, carbon crusted wiring and conduits that spilled from the bulkhead before them. He and the three men he’d taken from other duties had dismantled much of this section of engineering in their attempted to make right all that was wrong. Their long hours of work had made for little progress.

“The overload affected every subsystem integrated—“

Dath’mar’s kicking boot knocked the old man over onto his haunches. The captain’s palm rested on the butt of his huge pistol. “I know that much! I ask for a status update.”

“Then perhaps you should be more clear!” Hekk risked a bit of indignation as he reclaimed his kneeling position. He and the two men beside him were covered in grit and soot. The whole compartment smelled of burned insulation. “I have yet to replace all the destroyed control modules because I’m wasting all my time tearing out all this…MESS!”

“So you’ve repaired nothing!”

“I have barely enough men to keep the operational systems from joining the inoperative ones! We are lucky to retain flight capacity! The long-range sensor array is dead due to power control malfunctions… The cloaking device is full of burned out conduits and I’m quite sure the field coil is out of phase.” Hekk took a breath and forced himself to calm. He picked through the scorched wiring in his hands almost unconsciously. “With half our control systems destroyed and the other half questionable…we’ll be lucky if we can steer all the way back to Galt, let alone a proper repair base!”

Hekk braced for fresh reprisal from his CO. None came. Dath’mar’s anger had spent. Only his personal misery for a job so badly gone wrong remained. The enemy had not bested them. The limitations imposed by command had not bested them. Pang’s old, worn out machinery had. Control modules not replaced in twenty years and not upgraded in who knew how long had gotten the better of them and made a barely feasible mission nigh impossible. Now Pang slunk back home bearing what little burden she’d been able to steal.

“Will the drive hold up till we regain Imperial space?”

Hekk stopped and looked back up again.

“My engines will see us home, Captain. They have never failed.”

Dath’mar studied Hekk for some time. At least he nodded and stalked slowly away. For the first time, the engineer noticed that damned little Targ following at his heels. It was a comical sight.







Captain Dath’mar leaned heavily against the bulkhead of the turbo elevator. The twin doors clanged closed. He and his pet were alone. The overhead computer buzzed impatiently for a destination. The tired captain ignored it. He closed his eye and focused on breathing.

Dath’mar, captain in his Chancellor’s Empire, did not often fail.

Never had he failed in a thing so important.

His inability to bring back simple dirt ate at his insides. That such a simple thing should help to bring his kinsmen low before its enemies… He could not accept this turn of fate. There had to be more that he could do. He wracked his warrior’s brain, so used to thinking in military terms and equations.

UQ QetwI gurgled inquisitively at his feet and nuzzled his shin guards for attention. Dath’mar pondered where he could turn to acquire the remainder of the ore he needed to save Galt’s schedule. He knew of no other world within range where he could gather the nitrate. No ships were known to be hauling it during this season. The closest supplies in the Empire were beyond range…

There was always the Federation.

The Klingon warrior’s stomach curled at the very thought of appealing to them. The Empire had already come to rely on them…far too much. To ask for more would bring a shame none could live with. The fact that La’ra had not suggested this as a course of action from the beginning told Dath’mar that the Brigadier had likely been told not to seek human help. So, where else was there to turn?

The squall of the intercom broke the captain’s dark reverie.

“Report!” He growled.

“Captain…Federation battlecruiser on approach.”

At the sound of his First’s voice, Dath’mar came once more to a more awake stance and pressed a control stud for the bridge. “Type and distance?”

“Miranda-Type. Identity yet unknown. Distance 400,000 kelicams.”

“I’m on my way.”

The lift door deposited the captain and his targ within the security chamber aft of the bridge. Dath’mar strode through swiftly, chattering to his pet which obligingly hopped high enough for his master to catch him. Carrying the animal like a ball under one arm, the captain entered his command room.

“Slow to sublight!” The captain’s voice was a veritable roar. His consternation had reached new height. The crew noted this and avoided looking at him.

Dath’mar moved to his command dais and took his chair. The Surgeon was present, looking on as the Federation craft approached. The captain handed his targ off to the surgeon who obligingly stepped away. The officers gathered on the Klingon cruiser’s bridge watched as the stars began to draw to a halt. The Federation cruiser slowed to sublight also and angled in to close with the Klingon ship. The captain betrayed no plans as he sat studying the simple design of their new opponent.

The ship was indeed of Starfleet’s Miranda-Class. Based in part on Klingon design, the ship was a straight-forward construction consisting of a saucer, a large engineering and auxiliary craft section built into the rear and two warp pods. A roll bar and torpedo module capped the vessel off, giving it a very adaptable capacity for accepting mission specific systems.

This vessel was well known to the crew of the Pang. She had been included in the sector briefings reviewed three months back. And they had already spoken with this ship once. She was the USS Comanche, NCC-2044. And she was packing serious firepower.
 
“Comanche is hailing.” Called out Lieutenant Jark. “Captain Ramses wishes to confer.”

“On screen.”

The bridge of the Federation cruiser looked no different than it had when Kurvis had spoken with Comanche. Clean. Brightly lit. Gaily painted. The captain sat in a powder blue chair. Captain Ramses could almost pass for a Klingon in build. His left eyebrow arched high in curiosity as he regarded the Klingon captain.

“Captain Dath’mar, we meet at last.”

“So it would seem.” Dath’mar replied in bored fashion.

“You mind telling me why your ship is high-tailing it through Federation space?”

Dath’mar cast a glare at his navigator. Ger’shall shrank in her seat. Little could be blamed on her. Without long range and navigational sensors, she’d had to rely totally on inertial navigation and visual sightings. Such was not widely practiced. At warp speeds, visual sightings on stellar landmarks were unreliable. The captain looked slowly back to his opposite number on the viewer.

“I would mind.”

Captain Ramses developed a rankled look and stood up from his little chair. He advanced threateningly on his own visual feed and jabbed a big finger at the Klingon. “Captain, I cut you slack a while back when your needed to stop for repair. You did your thing, then you moved on. I’ve been listening to distress calls for twenty-four hours telling me about a Klingon ship attacking a mining colony…a damn dirt farm! I couldn’t help but think of you. Now I find you, your ship all shot to hell, trailing smoke from out your nacelles, lost in Federation space… And you’re not gonna humor me with a why?”

“No.”

Ramses glared back with a bemused gleam in his brown eyes.

“You know that I could intern your ship for an unmitigated attack on a peaceful neighbor’s territory?” The threat was an empty one. Both realized this. The Federation and its Starfleet would not initiate any action that would damage the building relations between the two powers. But Dath’mar knew Ramses had to do something. The likelihood of an armed conflict here was quite acute should the wrong actions be taken.

Dath’mar sank into his command chair.

“No one will be interning the Pang.”

“Then what do you suggest, Captain? I have to know what’s going on here.”
***





Captain Dath’mar entered the spacious briefing room buried deep within the core of the Federation vessel. The Klingon had brought with him no guards. Few could be spared from his ship and her repairs. The black clad warrior stood with arms crossed on the far side of the pale blue table that dominated the chamber.

The captain actually thought of this room as far more functional than his own, tiny briefing compartment. Perhaps he’d order his own enlarged…

Captain Ramses regarded the aloof Klingon commander and waved away his security sentries. The armed men stepped out of the room without complaint. The two shipmasters were alone. Silence reigned.

“So…you want to go first?”

Dath’mar remained quiet, then lowered his arms, slipping his thumbs into his belt at either side. “My ship is on a mission for the Empire.”

The Captain’s duty to complete his mission and to avoid conflict were grating, more now than ever before. Dath’mar’s nerves were beyond frayed. He was uncertain as to how to proceed.

“Why don’t you start first by telling me what the problem is?”

This question caught the warrior off guard.

“What do you mean?”

“You said you were on a mission for the Empire, right? Then why don’t you start by telling me what problem led you to violate Gorn space and transport away fifteen hundred tons of fertilizer.”

The earnest cast to the human’s face was beguiling. Dath’mar steeled himself.

“There was a soil contamination on one of our colonies.”

“Galt?”

The Klingon glared at the human. Ramses shrugged.

“That was where you went…”

Dath’mar forced his spine to relax and his shoulders to give way to some fatigue. This human was a watchful one. His ship had spied on the Pang from afar. “Yes. Galt.”

“So you went to the Gorn colony to steal…dirt?”

Embarrassment flooded the Klingons face, reddening his countenance. This ignominy was beyond any limit he might be expected to endure. But it was the will of the Empire. “We went to take what was needed for the survival of the Empire!”

“That’s a lame excuse. I assume you did this when all other avenues turned up dry? Why didn’t your government contact the Federation—“

“We can accept no further hand outs from your--!” The captain’s outburst was quickly checked, but not quickly enough. Ramses sat back in his soft chair and nodded.

“Pride, huh? Well…I can understand that. Pride makes a lot of people do stupid things.”

Dath’mar slowly approached the table and leaned down, planting fists atop its cold surface. “You dare question the intelligence of my superiors?”

Ramses was tense, but he did not back away. Dath’mar could smell the primal energies building within the man. This human would fight him, here and now. He found he liked this human for that trait.

“You do too…” Ramses told him. “I can tell by the way you talk about it. You think the fool who dreamed this little raid up is a complete dumbass. You jeopardized relations with a neighbor, strained peace talks with a possible future ally, got your ship shot up and had to haul a load of sh*t halfway through the galaxy because some higher-up didn’t want his Empire to look weak.”

Dath’mar remained where put. The plan had been his. But the restrictions had been conferred to him by Command. What Ramses had guessed was essentially true. Dath’mar did hate this mission. He hated further the fact that this self-important shipmaster had cobbled together so accurate a portrayal of the week’s events.

“Am I wrong?” The human prodded.

“No.”

“Then what we need is a better solution. Do your orders preclude asking us for help?” The human waited. Dath’mar drew back to his full height.

“They did not cover such an option. Either way…I will not crawl on my belly for help from your people.”

Ramses stared back evenly, without real expression.

“I’m not asking you to. There are other avenues. There’s always a surplus of farming material wherever there’s a Federation colony. Starbase 23 plays nursemaid to three colony sites.”

“This would be no different than groveling—“

“You need to think on a wider spectrum, Captain.”

The Klingon’s eye narrowed. What was this wry human suggesting? A thought niggled at the back of Dath’mar’s military mind. Could he force himself to think as this conniving human did? Realization dawned in him.

“Can there be…a back avenue to getting nitrates…without a formal request?”
Ramses smiled.

“There can be. We have plenty of loose freighters in our sector. One or more can be hired indirectly to run…whatever you might buy…into Klingon space…”

Dath’mar considered this option. Little could be said if Galt’s governor purchased nitrate through a private contractor if Dath’mar could simply provide him one. The warrior’s dire face softened. He felt like a miserable weakling. He stood in silence. Most of his heart refused to accept this measure.

His mind made the final decision in the good of the Empire.

“I will need a contact name and information.”

“I’ll have it for you before you leave.” Ramses replied with a nod. The captain stood up from his blue seat and looked across to his counterpart. “Now, about that colony you raided…”
'It's a lot of hard work being a mean bastard...' --Captain Eric Finlander, CO USS Bedford (The Bedford Incident)

'Jaken...are you pretending to be dead?' --Lord Sesshomaru, Inuyasha.

Offline Governor Ronjar

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Re: Dirt
« Reply #63 on: April 16, 2008, 10:32:23 pm »

CH. 14





Commander Kurvis sat atop the tallest chair on the bridge as the Pang slowed and began to assume her parking orbit over the brown world of Galt. The mighty cruiser did not bring nearly as much dirt as her captain had promised. But Pang returned none the less.

The ship’s First Officer looked sideways as the science officer stood and made for the aft lift. I’rell halted upon note of his stare and turned to face him. “Permission to beam to the ground, Commander.”

“You wish to oversee the drop off?”

The lithe young office seemed to take a careful moment to consider her reply. “Since the Captain will be overseeing the return of the Qas Dev, I thought it wise to monitor the ore transport.”

Kurvis did not go for her thin lie. She wanted to visit that pretty little dirt ball down there. Perhaps there was hulking farmboy down there she had a liking for. The First grinned. “Carry on, Science Officer.”

Kurvis turned the command chair back to the fore position as I’rell stepped past. He looked to port where the tired and dirt covered Hekk bent painfully over the patchwork engineering console.

“Status of beams, Whitehair?”

Hekk shot an irritated glare back over his sloped shoulder.

“Pathetic, First Officer! Absolutely pathetic. But they will do so long as I go slowly…”

Kurvis had a twinkle in his eyes as he looked back to the viewer.

“Just try to not set the bridge on fire this time.”

Growls arose from the engineering corner. Kurvis could only smirk.

His levity broke, though, a moment later when the shift changed. The officers of the previous watch abandoned their posts and gave them up to the next, more rested replacements. Lieutenant Second Motek was among these.

The young warrior did not so much as glance the First Officer’s way as he took over the Gunner One position. Kurvis watched him warily.

The Lieutenant had been back aboard for more than two days. In all that time, the angry warrior had not mentioned or requested time for his duel with the captain. Had the kid simply lost his nerve? Doubtful. No, an impetuous youth didn’t often forget a slight to his honor. Motek had been silent an unobtrusive ever since his shuttle had returned.

Kurvis did not like what this might mean…
***







Lieutenant Commander I’rell materialized before a huge plantation lodge. A great fire pit had been built before the residence, and even as her particles condensed, the science officer could smell the salty tang of broiling meats. Farmers strode about happily, chests thrown out in pride as they prepared a feast of giant proportions. I’rell could only blink in surprise over all the activity.

Coming down the packed mud steps leading from the earth and lumber lodge, Governor Legat was all smiles as he hooked his thumbs into the front of his belt. The older man swaggered with satisfaction.

“So!” He hailed when coming within speaking distance of her, “Our mighty heroes have returned victoriously!”

I’rell’s brows arched.

“We did not procure even half what was necessary for your fields…”

Legat shrugged and offered his hand to her, the palm of his fist pointed down. She took the offered arm and let him guide her to the flaming pit. “But you did bring enough for us to begin with right away, and your resourceful commander secured delivery for the rest. The planning will remain tight, but we will not have to fear failing in our duty.”

The science officer bowed to the elder man’s logic. They reached the side of the stone walled fire pit and looked out over the rows of laid out spits, each laden with targ and flank of hekeed.

“Having a feast to celebrate your good fortune?” She asked him.

“Of a sorts. This meal is to be shared with your men, as many as may come down. The colony wishes to display its gratitude and honor our brave military for doing what had to be done.”

I’rell smiled at the gesture. She crossed her bare arms and looked up to the sinking sun in the west. It had been at twilight on a similar day when she’d last stood on this planet. The sunsets were beautiful. Red mixed with gold and the blue of the sky… It was easy to lose one’s thoughts to the sight. Legat gave her a soft nudge.

“The sunsets are always so on this world. Even the rains cannot dull them.” The governor studied her silent form for a time and then spoke further. “Do you think your captain would join in the feast?”

I’rell could only grin at the thought of it.

“I doubt it, Governor. He is…a private man.”

“Ah. Too bad.”

The drone of maladjusted transporters began to fill the air. A hundred meters south of the plantation house, the first drop of the nitrate ore was being deposited onto a patch of wide open, dry ground. A slight breeze made some of the powdered nitrate swirl in the air in a silvery twister.

“Our transporters are badly out of sync.” The second officer told Legat apologetically. “Otherwise we could put the ore into the storage bins.”

Legat shrugged.

“It matters little. In the open, my machines can get to it faster and the work will get done all the sooner. Till then, let the winds sew some of it for us.”

The two Klingons smiled over that comment and went in amid the people setting up tables for the food that was beginning to appear in the arms of arriving workers. Unlike her first visit, the science officer now got to meet several of the subject races the old farmer had mentioned. There seemed no distinction to how these aliens were treated among these soft and gentle farm folk. They came and went without having to ask permission. They worked side by side with Klingons to erect tables and set up benches. There was a harmony here not found in the core worlds.

Such a place as this was alien in its own way. But it held its charms. The equality may have stunned the commander when she witnessed it. She did not shy from it. She was glad to have been able to help these folk. And by helping them, she and her crew had helped the Empire as a whole.

This had been a good mission.
'It's a lot of hard work being a mean bastard...' --Captain Eric Finlander, CO USS Bedford (The Bedford Incident)

'Jaken...are you pretending to be dead?' --Lord Sesshomaru, Inuyasha.

Offline Governor Ronjar

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Re: Dirt
« Reply #64 on: April 16, 2008, 10:33:56 pm »

CH. 15





Captain Dath’mar listened to the dull drone of his drive as it powered up to full impulse power once more. The day spent in orbit of Galt had been profitable for the engineering gangs. The Pang was more operable than she had been days earlier. Long range sensors were back up. The warp engines were working better. More transporter control had been restored.

The fore torpedo launcher remained inoperative.

The captain lay on his flat bunk, a thick hide thrown over him for warmth. Air conditioning was still down on this deck. In the depths of space, the hull allowed internal heat to bleed away.

Dath’mar thought over the decisions and actions taken by he and his men the last week. Their mission had been a success, but only marginally. They had lucked out. The ore stolen from the Gorn would be enough to get the farmers started. New supplies would arrive from terran contractors a month before more would be needed. Brigadier La’ra had been pleased with the outcome and was already arranging escorts to bring the civilian freighters safely across the border.

The battle fought over Chetell had not been in vein. The warriors lost would be remembered as having died honorable and somewhat glorious deaths. The mission would go down in history as a successful raid. Those dead soldiers had fallen in battle.

The drive increased in pitch as the ship accelerated to warp speeds. Dath’mar allowed his eye to droop closed. He had neglected sleep for far too long. Now was the time to catch up. His senses were lulled by the rhythmic call of the warp drive. He did not feel so much like a warrior as a tired child.

When Pang went in for refit and overhaul, he would take a month leave. Qo’noS had not felt the tread of his boots for far too many years.

The sound of the captain’s door roused Dath’mar partially. The damned Surgeon had come to disturb his rest once again. He thought of just shooting the man. The smell in the air did not belong to the doctor…

Dath’mar looked up to see Lieutenant Motek framed in the light outside his doorway. The young officer had his disruptor out and leveled on the captain’s chest. Dath’mar had no doubts it was set to kill. The CO blinked. His senses truly had been dulled.

“I have come for our duel, Captain!” Said the former first gunner with malicious intent. It was quite obvious he intended no fair battle between them. He had been biding his time since his return, waiting out their time at Galt. Now he’d come here bent on simple murder.

“You have me at a disadvantage, Lieutenant.” Was Dath’mar’s reply. He would not allow the fear and tension he felt now to enter into his tone. He would die with dignity.

“Much as you had me some time ago.”

Motek advanced, but not so far as to trigger the door to close. There were no sentries at the captain’s entry this day. He’d ordered them to join the repair teams throughout the ship. The young warrior would kill him without immediate fear of reprisal. He wondered if his First would avenge him in any way.

“If you have come to kill, then do so.”

Dath’mar lay back down. His own pistol lay years away from his hand, beneath his hide blanket. He hadn’t thought he had covered it, but it was not to be seen. He felt its weight at his right hip.

“You are a weakling, Captain. You do not deserve the title. Your years in prison dulled your brain. It was a dishonor for you to be taken alive. It was worse to reclaim you into the Fleet. Now I put right the wrong.”

“You are wordy, Lieutenant. Have you come to kill, or to talk?”

“To kill, Captain…” Motek raised his weapon. Dath’mar watched, wanting to see his death come for him. His father awaited him in Sto’vo’kor. Shadows played as the junior officer aimed for the killing shot.

Motek’s scream echoed in the small bed compartment as it lit with the burning of his associated atoms. The shout of disruptor fire assailed Dath’mar’s ears. Motek faded away to nothing, leaving only burning embers in his stead.

Captain Dath’mar looked upon the fat Surgeon as he waddled in through the doorway. His pistol was still held ready in hand, even though the threat had vanished. There was a faint amount of shock in the doctor’s eye as he looked up to the captain.

Dath’mar chuckled at the irony of it all, then lay back down.

“You have served me well, Surgeon.”

The Surgeon looked up, a small smile playing across his flabby jowl.

“If you have to shoot, shoot…don’t talk.”


END
'It's a lot of hard work being a mean bastard...' --Captain Eric Finlander, CO USS Bedford (The Bedford Incident)

'Jaken...are you pretending to be dead?' --Lord Sesshomaru, Inuyasha.

Offline kadh2000

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Re: Dirt
« Reply #65 on: April 17, 2008, 12:07:52 am »
I'm sad to see this one over.

1. It's nice to see an old ship act like an old ship
2. Your young science office got to go down to the planet.  I'm sure you'd have rather sent the young officer
3. Somebody did something in vein.  I hope it wasn't drugs.  I'm sure they meant to do it in vain anyway. although that isn't any more fun.
4.  How many times does the doctor get the last word and have it be so true?

Clap clap!!
"The Andromedans," Kadh said, "will never stop coming.  Not until they are all destroyed or we are."

Offline Commander La'ra

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Re: Dirt
« Reply #66 on: April 17, 2008, 11:51:17 am »
You know what I think.  It rocks.  Might be slowly creeping it's way up to 'Larry's favorite Guv' story status.
"Dialogue from a play, Hamlet to Horatio: 'There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy.' Dialogue from a play written long before men took to the sky. There are more things in heaven and earth, and in the sky, than perhaps can be dreamt of. And somewhere in between heaven, the sky, the earth, lies the Twilight Zone."
                                                                 ---------Rod Serling, The Last Flight

Offline Hstaphath_XC

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Re: Dirt
« Reply #67 on: April 17, 2008, 01:43:05 pm »
Most excellent!  As with Kadh, I am sad to see this story end... it was a fun bumpy ride while it lasted.

With any luck, you will catch something like the horrendous sinus cold I've had (for 3 days now) and can get back to work on your "pneumonia/drug-induced" story!   ;D
Hilaritas sapientiae et bonae vitae proles.

Offline Scottish Andy

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Re: Dirt
« Reply #68 on: April 21, 2008, 05:06:10 pm »
Bravo!

Encore!

*throws roses*

That's your best Klingon story ever. Full stop. It is one of your best stories ever, but I'm not currently sure what ranks with it.

It was a brilliant story concept well executed, and I apologise for not being around for the chapter postings so I could comment on each as it came out.

I second Kadh's earlier comments on your overly wordy word choice. It's great that you're spreading your wings and using big words, but as a favour to me and yourself, look 'em up at websteronline.com before posting them. Write it with that word in mind for speed and flow of original writing, but check the actual meaning of the word before you post. If it doesn't fit you can put in the word you thought it meant.

I also second Kadh's earlier comment about the old ship acting like an old ship, though it was a bit off calling the wreck in orbit of Galt at the end a "mighty cruiser" again.  ;)

There were plenty of grammatical mistakes, but I've left it too long and forfeited the right. That should make you happy!  :D

Hsta has the right of it, calling this a roller-coaster ride with its ups and downs. I really thought Dath'mar was going to die there, completely missed the foreshadowing with the Surgeon - but see it now. That means it was done very well!

I loved the Federation 'cameo', though I'm torn between thinking you did that registry from an old RPG or just to annoy me!  :P

A very good story Guv. Be happy to have that one up on my site.
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Offline Governor Ronjar

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Re: Dirt
« Reply #69 on: April 21, 2008, 07:38:16 pm »


I second Kadh's earlier comments on your overly wordy word choice. It's great that you're spreading your wings and using big words, but as a favour to me and yourself, look 'em up at websteronline.com before posting them. Write it with that word in mind for speed and flow of original writing, but check the actual meaning of the word before you post. If it doesn't fit you can put in the word you thought it meant.



There were plenty of grammatical mistakes, but I've left it too long and forfeited the right. That should make you happy!  :D



Yeah, about all that...

I'm very glad for the accoloades and am happy that despite my poor craftsmanship, the tale was enjoyed. I labored a bit over this one and was not sure how good it was.

I'm quite glad you enjoyed it... Really.

It will be a very long time before I post more here.

--thu guv
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'Jaken...are you pretending to be dead?' --Lord Sesshomaru, Inuyasha.

Offline Scottish Andy

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Re: Dirt
« Reply #70 on: April 22, 2008, 08:58:42 am »
Quote
It will be a very long time before I post more here.

*worried*

Why's that then? Did I put you off? Then ignore it! It was a great story that I thoroughly enjoyed. Your grammar didn't spoil my enjoyment, I was merely noting it (you should know by now I'm anal that way). I was trying to be encouraging with constructive criticism. If it came off wrong, then it looks like I needs to work on my phrasing!

If it's another reason, then... what's wrong?
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The Doctor: "Must be a spatio-temporal hyperlink."
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Offline Czar Mohab

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Re: Dirt
« Reply #71 on: April 22, 2008, 08:33:52 pm »
-Tuco Benedicto Juan Maria Ramirez, The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly. Best line in the whole movie.

Just got finished reading this. Sorry I've been away of late.

Seemed a little odd to me, in the resolution, that we would find that Ye Olde Comanche had been well informed and updated on the entire situation, but offered no other assistance until that point. You'd think that being a Starfleet captain, in the Federation, and most importantly, being human, would have had the guy trying to, at the very least, get some sh*t sent to Galt. Seriously, after all the war and strife and struggle that these two nations have had, wouldn't you as said captain want to jump at the chance to fling some sh*t over the border, without any possible repercussions? Without fear of reprisal? And to top it off, he'd probably get some commendation for the far flung sh*t.

I'm also surprised by the number of chapters; 15! Endy, as I recall, had what, 10 each, not counting prologue or epilogue. Really caught me off guard.

Which leads me to the next item. I know that we all can't keep writing a story forever, but after seeing 11, 12, 13, etc... I was kind of hoping for 16-20. Or more.

I don't care what anyone else says about your writing style. You already know my feelings on this, but if you forgot: You write it, I'll read it.

*BUT*

There were a few "extra meaty" portions that seemed to bog things down. At the same time, though, it was usually balanced out by adding small details that some might not notice if this were, say, a movie. Not always in the meaty parts, either. It was a real joy to ignore the boot slowly filling with blood, to have a targ keep staring whilst his owner looked away, and to have Klingon pistols fire a 3 gun salute on Pang's bridge.

If, for some odd reason, your writing has been put off for doing things in that ever terrible "Real World", then I can understand. If, however, a certain critic's criticism is what's got you down, well, keep writing, I've got your back; and I'll stay off of it, too.

All in all this was a splendid tale. I was sad to read that our hero's didn't get enough sh*t for all the sh*t they put up with, and also sad that it had to end.

As soon as I read this:
Quote
“If you have come to kill, then do so.”

I knew I would never let you live it down if you hadn't somehow included:
Quote
“If you have to shoot, shoot…don’t talk.”

That being said, it is one of my all time favorite movies, and lines, and characters. Was my sig, I think, long ago here, and still is on the old KA boards. They didn't take to my writing like you all have, and I didn't know at the time that there were other boards, so it might have been on those, too.


Czar "Probably should have said, 'poop'." Mohab[/color]
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Offline Governor Ronjar

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Re: Dirt
« Reply #72 on: April 22, 2008, 09:26:04 pm »
To Czar and Andy: No, the critique did not 'get me down' so much as make my response a bit sharp. I'd decided a while back that I need to write something other than the endless stream of Trek coming from my fingertips. I DO get tired of the endless BS over grammar for something I do in my SPARE TIME on LUNCH BREAK at work, but that would not , in itself , stop me from posting.

And I WILL still be around, just not posting my own stuff.

For Dirt, and the issues there of, it was a disjointed writing, and I freely admit some sections were bogged down while others zipped by. This comes from the various states of mind I occupied during the various times I was writing. This is why I try to get a story of such length done in a month or less. And editting only accomplishes me so much.

Captain Hiruul Ramses did not so much 'know' what was going on as guess what was going on. Perhaps this needs to be more blatantly stated.

Anywho, sorry for 'scaring' anyone. Roger still wuvz you.

--guv!!
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'Jaken...are you pretending to be dead?' --Lord Sesshomaru, Inuyasha.

Offline Scottish Andy

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Re: Dirt
« Reply #73 on: April 23, 2008, 09:22:19 am »
Glad to hear I didn't bug you too much then.

Personally Czar, I think Ramses' reaction was spot on. I could tell that he was monitoring the situation via long-range sensors (aka "from afar") and he was piecing it together. And the fact that he knew enough about Klingon psychology not to force help on them as Czar is suggesting, letting Dath'mar instead purchase it through back-channels was a great touch. Shows Ramses to be book-smart and street savvy.

I did forget to mention that I loved your Spaghetti Western line for the Surgeon as well. Seen it in Larry's sig for a long time now.

As for being sick of your own stories... well, I've got my Trek on now, with two stories currently in writing, and it looks like Jaeih & Kieran are coming back *nudge, hint* and Tus has started up, so you should be good for a while. Take a break and come back fresh.
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Mickey: "Wot's that?"
The Doctor: "No idea. Just made it up. Didn't want to say 'Magic Door'."
- Doctor Who: The Woman in the Fireplace (S02E04)

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Offline Commander La'ra

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Re: Dirt
« Reply #74 on: April 23, 2008, 10:25:54 am »
-Tuco Benedicto Juan Maria Ramirez, The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly. Best line in the whole movie.

It's my favorite movie.  Period.  And it has a hell of a lot of really good lines. ;)  Changed my sig back to one of them...

Quote
Seemed a little odd to me, in the resolution, that we would find that Ye Olde Comanche had been well informed and updated on the entire situation, but offered no other assistance until that point. You'd think that being a Starfleet captain, in the Federation, and most importantly, being human, would have had the guy trying to, at the very least, get some sh*t sent to Galt. Seriously, after all the war and strife and struggle that these two nations have had, wouldn't you as said captain want to jump at the chance to fling some sh*t over the border, without any possible repercussions? Without fear of reprisal? And to top it off, he'd probably get some commendation for the far flung sh*t.

Andy already answered this, but his impressions mirror mine.
"Dialogue from a play, Hamlet to Horatio: 'There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy.' Dialogue from a play written long before men took to the sky. There are more things in heaven and earth, and in the sky, than perhaps can be dreamt of. And somewhere in between heaven, the sky, the earth, lies the Twilight Zone."
                                                                 ---------Rod Serling, The Last Flight

Offline Governor Ronjar

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Re: Dirt
« Reply #75 on: April 23, 2008, 09:05:10 pm »
*bows to all*

I do have one more Endeavour Story, should anyone be interested. It's the one Larry and Andy have already read. It's really just Book One of a larger story, and I have no idea when I'll get back to it. I don't intend to post it for some time, if ever. If anyone wants to read it, I'd be happy to email it to you. Just leave me a line here, with either an addy or whatever.

--guv
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'Jaken...are you pretending to be dead?' --Lord Sesshomaru, Inuyasha.

Offline Grim Reaper

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Re: Dirt
« Reply #76 on: April 24, 2008, 06:10:14 am »
dude this is up with the best stories I've read and it's a crying shame you need to refuel your star trek muse! However, rather that then you burning out on the trek so I'll eagerly await the next stories. And we get an Endeavour to bridge the gap (or am I misunderstanding things?).
Snickers@DND: If there is one straight answer in that bent little head of yours, you'd better start spillin' it pretty damn quick, or I'm gonna take a large, blunt object, roughly the size of Kallae AND his hat and shove it lengthwise up a crevice of your being so seldomly cleaned that even the denizens of the nine hells would not touch it with a 10-feet rusty pole

Offline Governor Ronjar

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Re: Dirt
« Reply #77 on: April 24, 2008, 03:43:40 pm »
And we get an Endeavour to bridge the gap (or am I misunderstanding things?).

I have another ready. If you'd like to read it, I'll email it your way. Either leave me a addy or I can get it from your Dyna profile.

The new story would have to take place in an alternate universe. There's a few years between Stroy #15 and this one. Got good reviews so far.

Want a copy?

--guv!!
'It's a lot of hard work being a mean bastard...' --Captain Eric Finlander, CO USS Bedford (The Bedford Incident)

'Jaken...are you pretending to be dead?' --Lord Sesshomaru, Inuyasha.

Offline Czar Mohab

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Re: Dirt
« Reply #78 on: April 25, 2008, 10:47:19 pm »
-Tuco Benedicto Juan Maria Ramirez, The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly. Best line in the whole movie.

It's my favorite movie.  Period.  And it has a hell of a lot of really good lines. ;)  Changed my sig back to one of them...

Quote
Seemed a little odd to me, in the resolution, that we would find that Ye Olde Comanche had been well informed and updated on the entire situation, but offered no other assistance until that point. You'd think that being a Starfleet captain, in the Federation, and most importantly, being human, would have had the guy trying to, at the very least, get some sh*t sent to Galt. Seriously, after all the war and strife and struggle that these two nations have had, wouldn't you as said captain want to jump at the chance to fling some sh*t over the border, without any possible repercussions? Without fear of reprisal? And to top it off, he'd probably get some commendation for the far flung sh*t.

Andy already answered this, but his impressions mirror mine.


About that second quote of yours:

Textual sarcasm and I don't get along. Wasn't meant to be serious.

HOWEVER, What's-his-face did piece together enough info to help D'M *AND* know where some "back-door" poop could be found.

Guv, If you could shoot a copy my way that would be great, no promise sthat I will read it in a timely fashion, but definitely before --- 15 May 08. I'm always willing to read your works. Just need to find time lately.

Czar "RL's been keepin me down," Mohab, who will return shortly. Possibly before 15 May 08...
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Offline Grim Reaper

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Re: Dirt
« Reply #79 on: April 26, 2008, 03:52:51 am »
I mailed from my address to your addy, I'd love to have it!
Snickers@DND: If there is one straight answer in that bent little head of yours, you'd better start spillin' it pretty damn quick, or I'm gonna take a large, blunt object, roughly the size of Kallae AND his hat and shove it lengthwise up a crevice of your being so seldomly cleaned that even the denizens of the nine hells would not touch it with a 10-feet rusty pole