Join Date: Jul 2012
Posts: 3,953
# 1 Pear Shaped (Story)
04-23-2013, 01:57 AM
"...Obesity shall not be tolerated, all human officers will comply with Starfleet regulation 210-4A/16 'Regulations for physical fitness' and this will be tested by way of periodic physical fitness testing...body mass index examinations will be mandatory throughout the fleet..."

-Fleet Admiral Szander B. Collins, Starfleet Training and Doctrine Command, 2392.01.15

"...the colloquially named 'Collins rule' is mostly applied to officers in the Engineering and Tactical fields, or officers on a Command Career Path, usually as a means of removing otherwise adequate personnel viewed as having poor career prospects due to external associations, undesirable political, social, or other traits...Note that per the regulation, it requires a failure of the Starfleet Physical Fitness Test to initiate separation procedures..."

-Commander T'shon, Starfleet Judge Advocate, in defense of regulation 210-4A/16 before the Federation High council, 2406.11.15

USS Smedley Butler, Sovereign Class Assault cruiser, Eta Eridani sector, 2410.03.17, 1900 hours

Kevin Monroe never intended to take the position of a Starship captain-he'd been quite comfortable as "guy behind the Science Officer" for most of his career...right up to a nightmare evening on Defera, and the reports and recommendations (and hardcopy records) of his actions catapulted his career in a direction he'd never intended.

"Helm, how many days out from our destination are we?" he asked quietly.

"Sir, we're still seven standard days from Deep Space worried about the PFT?" Lt. Michelle "Gonzo" Gonzales had been one of a dozen officers who hadn't died, or run, during the Borg assault on his position at Hill 123-unlike Monroe, she'd mostly failed to run because an explosion from a stray Plasma Bolt hitting a water cooler rendered her unconscious.

"Of course I'm worried, Gonzo." he said, "I weighed in at two hundered kilos this morning, and the Medical officer on K-7's a big fan of the Collins rule."

Lt. Commander Threll at Tactical had also survived Defera-but she'd done it aboard the USS Samuel Nicholas, during the assault on the Cube. the Andorian snorted, and said one word as commentary-"Remfs."

Kevin looked over at his Andorian Tac, and, with an amused expression, said, "Watch your language or they'll assume you spent too much time with Montoya's Marines, and send you to do diplomatic guard duty at a monument somewhere only those of us who've seen the Elephant whole would visit."

"Sir, did you really an elite drone to death? with a fence post?" Ensign Waller hadn't been to Defera-he was just out of Academy and still awkward.

"It was an I-beam, and yeah, I did-hell of a job interview...and if I had it to do over again, I'd run away like my ass was on fire and my hair was catching-you have NO idea how much paperwork is involved in running a ship this size..." Kevin said ruefully, "If I'd known they were going to stick me with it, I'd still be running away!"

"Sir, I've got a contact bearing Thirteen degrees port minus seventy degrees, range nineteen light years...they're squawking a distress."

Kevin grimmaced, "this is a warzone, Yellow Alert, all hands to battle stations, Shan, get ready to raise shields and warm up the Phasers and Photon banks, Waller, give me a motion plot and analyze the signature to see who is calling for help, Gonzo, keep the preplots for our attack patterns warm and ready to go, and update them as we close."

his Helmswoman smiled, and muttered as she focused on her displays, "they gave you the job because when a fire breaks out, you're the one running at it instead of away, sir..."
"when you're out of Birds of Prey, you're out of ships."

A Festival of Blood and Fire!

Last edited by patrickngo; 04-23-2013 at 02:02 AM.
Join Date: Jul 2012
Posts: 3,953
# 2
04-23-2013, 02:44 AM
...early in mankind's 'Warp Boom', worlds were colonized that were less than suitable for humanity-too dry, too wet, to hot, or too cold, the world of Pegasi in the Epsilon Pegasi system was ideal-except for one, major, flaw-it was a 'super Earth'-that is, an earthlike world, in an earthlike position, with a significantly higher gravitational pull. Survivors of the Colonization mission utilized...genetic modification techniques developed prior to the Eugenics wars to adapt their progeny to their new homeworld. Over the generations, Pegas natives remained 'human' enough not to classify as a new species. Notably, Pegas Natives tend to be, by 'earth standards' overweight, often carrying significant excess mass. For this reason, few are able to enlist in Starfleet, and fewer still, manage to make the cut to officer's training and Starfleet Academy...Epsilon Pegasus 2 has a gravity 1.45 times Earth Standard-sufficient to be classified today as a 'no colonization' zone..."

-A primer to the Federation; Chapter 1,234, "Nearly a Failure", entry Two, "Epsilon Pegasus colony".

"...when he hit the...thing that used to be Commander Gates, you could HEAR the bones being crushed..."

-Petty Officer Jerom N'adir, testimonial statement taken 2410.1.2

"...Commander Monroe performed adequately in maintaining discipline and defense during the attack, unlike his commanding officer. Under KDF rules and regulations he would have been justified in shooting her, as he is under Starfleet control, his actions in not terminating that weak fool are understandable, if misguided..."

-Colonel D'Moj, KDF 9th Reconaissance Squadron, After Action Report, Hill 123 engagement.

"...awarded for uncommon valour in the face of overwhelming odds in defense of civilian personnel..."

-Award citation

"...I should've run away. I didn't, because we had fifteen thousand civilians less than a Kilometer behind me, and Q only knows how many Borg coming down our throats. If the KDF contingent hadn't decided to come in and back us up, the ridge, and the refugees, would've been Borg by the end of the night..."

-Captain Kevin Monroe, interview, Federation Internewsnet Daily, on his award of the Starfleet Defense Cross (with clusters) and Combat Action award.

[b]Deep Space K-7, 2410.03.17...[b]

"He may have won some decorations, but he'll never pass a FitRep." Doctor Selim Halas stated, handing the profile across the desk to Captain (Commodore) MacKenzie Calhoun, adding, "Besides, his politics are...questionable and his conduct!"

"He's a combat officer, Doctor, a Fighter and we Need Fighters-the defection of three colony worlds along the zone, and losses in the Ker'rat salient mean you had BETTER not be trying to rig this guy's FitRep, Lardass or not-I will take a fat-bastard who fights over a svelte and healthy martinet who ****s and runs." Calhoun was in a deep fury today-two more ships had been lost in action, and three worlds along the battle-front were wavering, while Starfleet was sending ships off to Tau Dewa to play nice with the Romulans.

"I'm just saying, sir-his last physical showed a considerable increase in body-fat content, and he's only GOT that promotion for-" Halas began, and stopped at Calhoun's glare.

"Doctor, normally I don't mind that you have a rulebook sitting somewhere up your colon, but today, I ****ing do. I don't care if this guy's a poster of the 'before' picture in a weight-guidance advertisement, I don't care if he spills the cake and sodas on the consoles, I need combat captains and Quinn thinks he's a fighter, so unless he turns out to be a creampuffmallow chicken****, he passes the Fitrep, or you're getting a berth on a Freighter flying Combat Supply support along the war border, understand?" Calhoun stood up, and jabbed a finger into the slim, older doctor's sternum, "You..will...get the worst assignment I can find, if you don't play get your ass out of my office, and back down into MedBay, and start looking up methods to get a fat man thin enough to pass the Collins Test."

Halas scuttled out like a Bureaucratic cockroach, leaving Calhoun alone.

The ******n ghost is out there... he mused silently, the ****** ghost is killing my ships.

"Computer, bring it up again." he said.

"Authorization?" the system demanded in a cool, unemotional voice.

"Calhoun, Zeta Foxtrot One Seven One." He said, adding, "Scroll programme directives, Project Eighty-Six, look for subvertable algorithms on display two, on display three, flight recorder data from the USS Baltimore, last recording prior to her destruction."
"when you're out of Birds of Prey, you're out of ships."

A Festival of Blood and Fire!
Join Date: Jul 2012
Posts: 3,953
# 3
04-24-2013, 10:55 AM
"...You should not fight in a burning house..."

Th'lingon Proverb.

"...Federation officials expressed shock and dismay at the announcement earlier today of the Klingon Empire's expression of diplomatic support... 'I am sure a better solution than having a world of three hundered million humans defecting to the Klingon Empire can still be achieved by negotiation' President Okeg stated in this afternoon's press conference, 'However, special security measures are not in effect in order to prevent another Maquis situation.' Starfleet has declined to specify what special measures are being taken in light of these events. In other news, Federation officers were shown today helping colonists on New Romulus in their semi-annual Epohh Wrangling harvest...coming with the announcement of another increase in Federation aid budgets directed at helping D'Tan's provisional government..."

-Federation News Network

Holding Cells, Starbase 24, near the Neutral zone...

Cham Nguoc stared at the ceiling, and found his mind wandering toward what could POSSIBLY have got him here. "Mister Nguoc, you have a visitor." the guard said.

"My lawyer? the guy bringing the charges? who is it, Chief?" Nguoc snarled.

"A visitor...and quit being prickly about rank, Sir, what your people did..." the Bolian spat, "You're lucky you don't have a number yet."

Cham stood up, my people-what did the Sam do?

The man who showed up on the other side of the force field was a civilian, in formal, Federation-issue civil service dress, the insignia said 'diplomatic corps'.

"Are you being treated in accordance with Federation law and regulations, Mister Nguoc?" the diplomat asked.

"Reg-what?? I haven't even been Charged!!!" Cham exploded, "What the **** is going on?"

The smooth man (cham placed his ethnicity as Ecosian) drew up a chair, and sat down. "My name is Pol Wenger, you're being held as a hostile foreign national-an enemy alien, in possession of classified Federation information during a time of war, Mister Nguoc...oh, that's right, your profile says you tend to be aggressively ignorant about politics...let me enlighten you."

"Please, Mister Wenger, do so, maybe we can clear this misunderstanding up..." Nguoc frowned, do they think I'm a changeling or something??

"While your mission to the Orellius sector was wrapping up, your homeworld of Moab III decided to secede from the Federation for...a list of reasons. The Klingon Empire elected to provide them with Legitimacy and diplomtic cover-as of six weeks ago, they formally annexed the system-Peacefully, as an autonomous dependency, like the Ferasans, or the Gorn, are you tracking so far?"

"son of a *****..." Nguoc knew the post-Dominion war regs had been changed. He knew why, he understood the logic...holy crap, I have just gone from decorated war hero to Prisoner of War...

"Ah, now you're getting it. Mister Nguoc, you were peripherally involved with a number of classified Starfleet operations, some of which involved advanced technology developments we'd rather the Klingons did NOT get, this is why you're in a cell, instead of being transshipped to a prisoner exchange in the Neutral zone at this time."

"Because...there's a war on." Cham sat down. "And my relatives, my family. just signed up for the other why isn't the warden, or a Starfleet Security officer explaining this, why you?" Cham asked.

Wenger's pale, yellowish complexion didn't shift an iota, "You have been personally requested by someone in the Moab government...apparently someone over there didn't forget you. My presence is because it's shifted from a mere Starfleet Security matter, to a matter of interstellar relations that could impact the cease-fire talks on Risa, or (worse) imperil the support for New Romulus."

"I don't even know who'd be asking about me." Nguoc confessed, "I didn't Have anybody in my family with big connections, we were rice farmers for christ's sake-tractors and harvester dealers sometimes, but..."

"I suspect it wasn't their idea, Mister Nguoc, it strikes me as likely that their 'advisors' may have simply done a standard records-search for natives serving in Starfleet, then cross-referenced those with who they got back." Wenger told him.

"'re here to negotiate my release?" Nguoc asked.

"Sort of. I'm here to evaluate your loyalty to the Federation." Wenger told him. "the war-front's moved and Moab's in a great place to gather...information about Klingon fleet movements and preparedness."

"you want me to be a spy." Nguoc told him.

"...also it's likely, given your record, that they may want you in their defense forces." Wenger added, "Specifically because dependency states have to tithe forces to the KDF, and KDF have relatively high standards..."

"you want me to be your Mole." Nguoc amended.

"In a nutshell, Captain, yes." Wenger told him. "Your reactions are being monitored by a...colleague-you can't see them for a reason."

"You have a betazed reading my surface thoughts." Nguoc said bluntly, "Looking to see if I'm going to try to decieve you into letting me go...probably behind a shroud field somewhere..." he waggled a finger, "there-one meter behind your chair and to the left."

"You're just guessing." Wenger said.

Nguoc sighed, frowned, and dragged up a single, recent memory-during the action at Defera, the Samuel Nicholas had been boarded by a borg assault group, and the fighting in the corridors had gone hand-to-hand.

He put that experience right into the forefront of his memories.

There was a gasp from beside the Diplomat, and a young man dropped out of seeming nowhere, looking like he'd been kicked, and kicked hard, in the groin.

"Your answer's no, Mister Wenger. IF I had been treated like a Star Fleet Officer under trying conditions instead of an enemy, I'd have considered it-I claim my rights as a Prisoner of WAR, under Article 232 of Starfleet Regulation 1634, 'treatment of captured personnel in time of war'. You lot can monitor the contact, but I demand a neutral observer to confirm my treatment is in accordance with Federation Law. and the Starfleet Articles of War-now, since YOU have already admitted that MY government wants to see and/or speak with me, under those articles, and under article 53 subsection two, paragraph nine, you'll get me in contact-even if it's monitored, with 'My government', which isn't, per your own statements, the FEDERATION government." Cham paused, "In short, I want to talk to either a rep from Moab, or a Klingon Diplomat, and under those regs, Mister Wenger, that means contact in a couple of days, not a couple of years."
"when you're out of Birds of Prey, you're out of ships."

A Festival of Blood and Fire!
Join Date: Jul 2012
Posts: 3,953
# 4
04-24-2013, 11:21 AM
"...tonite there's gonna be a jail-break, somewhere in the town,
tonight there's gonna be trouble,
so don't be hangin' round..."

-Thin Lizzy

System [Classified].

"They're being held here?" Mouse asked. the robot in the Captain's chair nodded, "To the best that Starfleet's databases and Klingon Intelligence can ascertain, yes." it said.

"How many of our people are in there?" Mouse asked.

"three, along with an even hundered Starfleet, Klingon, and other personnel-the Undine have done a fair job of penetrating security, this is similar to the Terradome deep space nine simulation."

"it's nice you don't mix us up with Federation people anymore, Eighty Six." the turbolift doors hissed closed, and Elizabeth Trac stepped onto the bridge.

"Precision is one of my few advantages. What happens to the Starfleet personnel if we succeed, Miss Trac?" Eighty Six asked.

"They'll get repatriated, Eighty Six. Orders from J'Mpok on that were pretty clear-we do with 'em what we want, and I want to send 'em home with stories that'll undermine any military effort to drag us back into the Federation at phaser-point." The robotic 'interaction unit' stood up and Liz sat down in the Captain's chair.

'You should not be here, Miss Trac-you're an important civilian authority now." the machine pointed out.

"No, I'm a minor lord of a Klingon Dependency-I have to make my bones or we'll get eaten by one of the Great houses-that means proving I can lead and execute a Military mission." Liz grimmaced, "POW rescues are considered one of the toughest you can carry out, getting our people out of that...thing...should shut up some of the grumbling from K'lek about my suitability to sit on the High Council with Di'An and the Gorn..."

"Politics." Mouse groaned.

"Politics. Are the rest of the strike force in position?" Liz asked.

"Yes ma'am...are we go?" Mouse asked.

"We are go." Liz confirmed.

"Eighty six, if you would be so kind as to send the signal?"

"It was nice of them to loan us that squadron of Norghs..." Elizabeth Trac commented, as they began their attack run...
"when you're out of Birds of Prey, you're out of ships."

A Festival of Blood and Fire!
Join Date: Jul 2012
Posts: 3,953
# 5
04-24-2013, 11:40 AM
"...this is the USS Tucker, we are under attack, enemy unknown, Our vector position is (static)...nemy weapons are...(static)roton based and they have {static}icobal{Static} devices-the convoy's scattered but we detected enemy frigate-class vessels moving to intercept. Any starfleet vessels in range, this is the USS Tucker, we are under attac...

USS Smedley Butler...

"reading shows...sir, she's one of ours-a Shi'kahr, USS Tucker and she's in trouble, I'm getting some damn strange readings from what's attacking her-it looks like one of those new Klink carriers, but...these readings are all wrong."

"Activate point-defense batteries and bring us in, attack pattern Delta Two, get us between the Tucker, and the attacking forces." Kevin ordered.

[more later-gotta go to work now]
"when you're out of Birds of Prey, you're out of ships."

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Join Date: Jul 2012
Posts: 3,953
# 6
04-25-2013, 02:11 AM
["Bad Request Error" my ASS...]

USS Smedley Butler...

There was something..wrong..about that Carrier. The shape was one that had turned up as a new Klingon vessel-but this one

Kevin Monroe had ample time to consider this, as they fought it.

"How long before those damn point-defenses are live again, Threll?" he asked.

"One minute, Captain...assuming we don't lose power again from one of those Tricobalt devices."

Kevin touched an override on his console, and sent a series of commands straight into the ship's main computer. "Gonzo, bring us about twelve degrees at half impulse, Threll, maximum shield power between us, and the hostile, I don't care about the flanks right at the moment-that irritation's about to go...away."

The programme executed, and the enemy smallcraft slowed, lugged, and slid backward as an artificial singularity created by the Butler's Graviton generators formed to their port-forward side 5 Km out.

"Threll, you may fire at will, now, I think our bogie's going to pop another one of those big bombs at us...don't let it get close."

"Mark!" Gonzo announced.

Kevin hopped-disproportionally fast, to Waller's console, and keyed in a set of commands.

"ever seen a deflector kick out a sub-nucleonic beam, kid?" he asked conversatoinally, adding, "ever seen what a well-written hueristic virus can do? guess what, this..." he hammered the last command in, "Is your lucky day."

"Solution!" Threll announced.

"Fire all torpedoes, follow up with everything ELSE we have." Kevin barked.

"confirmed contact on the bogie, sir...sir, they...their warp core!" Waller was scared-at less than 3 KM out, the enemy ship losing containment while carrying Tricobalt bombs was the defiition of a 'Bad thing'.

"****, sir, I didn't HIT them that hard!" Threll shouted.

"Compensate to the shields, everything we've got-the Tucker can't run." Kevin ordered.

The explosion was a warp-core explosion on steroids-in this case, tricobalt torpedo warhead steroids. The viewscreen washed bright, searing silver-white, and went dead black.

Not that many noticed as the lights also went out, the inertial compensators and the grav plating overloaded, and (at least on the bridge) everyone was thrown at the far wall....


Legs broke as they were dragged from seated positions, arms and ribs broke as they hit the wall...

and one neck broke.

Under dull red emergency lighting, Captain Kevin Monroe was the first to wake up. he felt like he'd been beaten-rather badly-by a rather large group of men with Cricket bats.

Large men with cricket bats.

Angry large men with Cricket bats.

He spat out a tooth, and tried to stand.

Everything ached, but his legs didn't give way.

about half gravity. he realized. Means power distribution's down...

He checked on his unconscious officers, using a medkit mounted beside the turbolift doors for just this purpose.

As they woke up, a few were able to start helping...

but one was never going to wake up.

"Sir, our FNG's dead." Gonzo annouced dully. Her time on Defera had left in some ways.

"He has a name, Leutenant Commander." Kevin reminded her.

"Okay, Waller is dead. Broken neck, suffocated." she corrected, "or maybe he just died outright...hard to tell."

"Get down to engineering, get us some power in the ship, Gonzo." Kevin ordered, "We need to see where we are, where we're going, and what kind of shape we're really in."
"when you're out of Birds of Prey, you're out of ships."

A Festival of Blood and Fire!
Career Officer
Join Date: Mar 2013
Posts: 977
# 7
07-17-2013, 09:42 AM
This sounds like the weight management regulations and SOPs we had in the Air Force.

Admiral Juda USS Manxman,Admiral Hessed USS Shalom, Admiral S'Motis RRW Sparrow, Admiral Kadosh USS Yisrael, Fleet Admiral Sh'ma USS Shalome, Gen Rerrr IKS K'Rok

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