Lt. Commander
Join Date: Dec 2007
Posts: 120
# 41 Lost and Found
05-18-2011, 05:58 PM
The Promenade was bustling on Deep Space Nine ... it was always bustling.
Among the many (and often colourful) aliens walked Jijan Tyr, captain of the USS Caroline. With the ship undergoing minor repairs and resupplying he had allowed some shore leave for himself and the crew. He loved looking at the station’s visitors, or talking to them. It reminded him of why he joined Starfleet: to seek out and explore new cultures.
Seeing as he still had some time before he met up with Thryiss at the Replimat he walked towards one of the newer shops. Undoubtedly she wants to review tactical evaluation reports, he thought by himself as he stepped through the sliding door. The idea of sitting through an hour of that in his spare time sent shivers along his spots. It’s not exactly Starfleet regulation but maybe I should *try* teach her how to have a good time.

The inside of the small store was a mixture of an antique store and a flea market. Many of the items stalled out were esthetically incompatible with the overpowering Cardassian architecture, but the storeowner had gone to great lengths to cover large portions of the walls with tapestries and shelves. Without thinking he began to examine certain objects or simply hold them, Trill hands were always cold and this allowed them to appreciate the warmth of an object along with its other artistic features. As he was musing on all this he let his hands carry on like they had a life of itheir own, they took him to a container filled with ‘paper’ books. As he was shifting through a dozen or so copies of ‘The teachings of Surak’ he felt something … familiar. He looked down and saw an old thick leather-bound book, with loads of extra papers and drawings sticking out from all sides. He looked at it intently for a few seconds and suddenly …

He was a little girl listening to mother telling bedtime stories of the lyriads, a legendary race of aquatic people that lived in oceans and beneath the ice caps near Tenaren. Not unlike Earth mermaids.

She was sitting on a pier overlooking the ocean, the little girl (now a bit older) dreaming of what life would be like under those waves. She reveled as they crashed on the shore and the spray hit her feet while the breeze whipped through her hair.

Another later memory: a voyage at sea inspired a now grown up Esja to start writing a novel. She looked for ages to find a hand-made paper book and in the end had to resort to making one herself.

Writers block, Esja goes diving out of season, the cold water nearly kills her but she has some great stories to tell.

Days and days of sitting locked up in her room and writing, writing, writing … “Must get out, OUT!! Run barefoot through the grassy hills maybe??”

Disaster, Esja goes out for tea and her bag gets stolen, along with her novel. She spends days searching every garbage disposal unit and another week talking to people in order to find a lead. In the end she has to conclude that she will never be able to finish the story she wanted to tell since childhood. Esja spends the rest of the week crying herself to sleep, trying to remember what she wrote down, but knowing it is hopeless, rewriting it from scratch would deprive it of its soul.

The excentric Trill artist paints one of her greatest masterpieces called ‘the Lyriad’, she literally mixes her tears with the paint. When it is done her time of mourning is over.

With a colossal effort Jijan braces himself from the flood of memories. The experience was so intense that his eyes are all watery. He looks down at the little book, wondering what to do. His first instinct is to put the it back. There is a stigma on having any sort of connection with a past life, this novel certainly qualifies as one. Yet as his hand moves slowly back to the container it seems like something inside him is tearing at the walls of his heart, screaming for him to stop putting it away and embrace it.

“Are you alright”.
“Yeah, … sure”, Jijan looks at the Bajoran shopkeepster who looks at him with a worried smile. “I’m sorry but, … could you tell me where you got this?”
“Oh that thing. I bought it from a Ferengi merchant for ten slips of latinum. He *claimed* it was an old religious text in some forgotten language.” She sighed and looked a little embarrassed. “I shouldn’t have believed him. Turns out it’s nothing but an old folk legend written in modern Trill. Are you interested? It’s yours for two slips … I just want to get rid of it.”

He paid the shopkeeper twelve slips and went to his quarters first to put it safely away before arriving a little late to meet up with Thryiss.


“Where did you get this”, T’nya asked as she grabbed hold of something odd and leathery on the captain’s desk.
“Be careful with that, it’s very old!”
“It’s in Trill isn’t it? Why isn’t it written on a PADD?”
“My first host, Esja, believed it would ‘suck the soul out of anything’ if she used electronic recording devices", he answered with a chuckle.
“Wéll that may be so but now I have no idea what it says here, … I don’t read Trill.”
“It’s ok … it’s unfinished anyway.” Jijan gingerly takes the novel back and puts it in a drawer under his desk.
“Why don’t you finish it?”
“Wha …”, the question took him a little by surprise, “because it’s forbidden to pick up a past life. We’d never get done with all our ‘unfinished bussiness’”
“And yet here you have a book written by one of your old hosts.”
“Still, if I were to publish something written by an artist who lived 250 years ago, especially if she was me … the symbiosis commission would freak ... for starters”
“Who says anything about publishing? Do it for yourself!” She pointed at his heart and then, thinking otherwise, pointed at his abdomen. “What would *she* want you to do? … Just, think about it okay? It would be so cool if you did.” And with that T’nya walked out the door.
Captain Tyr stood looking at the doorway for a long time. Eventually he said: “Computer, one fountain pen of Trill ‘Jaladen’ design … and add a large purple feather to it.”
Lt. Commander
Join Date: Dec 2007
Posts: 120
# 42
05-19-2011, 09:05 PM
T'Shani, ever efficient in her duties, had two styluses at hand. Most of the crew who have visited her quarters never took much note of it and simply wrote it off as the usual 'Vulcans are always prepared' excuse. And it mattered less considering she only used one---the more logically updated one for her paperwork as opposed to the other one collecting dust on her desk, looking old enough to be around when the Federation once were allies with the Klingon Empire.

But they had never seen her work privately in her quarters, sitting as primly as possible as she worked on schematics, the old stylus twirling between her long fingers, and if they did, it would be an alarming sight. You see, it was a rather human thing to do, like when someone's leg shakes absently if they sat still for too long. Vulcans have a more stronger control on their bodies to not warrant such a subconscious reaction and yet here was their Vulcan captain, spinning the stylus absently as her focus remained solely on the work in front of her.

There was nothing special about this stylus as far as her crew was concerned. Vulcans do not hold such favors over inanimate objects. It was simply not a logical past time to do. However not logical, it did not mean that T'Shani believed in it.

It belonged to her human lover, who had passed on. A momento of the first time they had met.

“Illogical,” She had said quietly, watching a man no older than twenty-five passing the time away in a cramped conference room by spinning a stylus obscenely fast and with a begrudging precision. “What use do you have with creating arc motions with a stylus?”

If anything, the spinning was starting to grate on her nerves and not even a quiet meditation could quell it. Perhaps it was the lowered temperature of the room to suit the human visitors or the way the young man barely out of the academy seemed so...nonchalant about precious dilithium shipments between colonies?

“I'm bored. This is a dying art for the bored. Not everyone can do this anymore. Takes skill.” The man said with a long suffering sigh. T'Shani raised an eyebrow.

“I am unfamiliar with this practice,” She admitted, not all too familiar about Earth customs. Which was reprehensible. As soon as she returned home, she will have to brush up on it if she was to ever mingle with the Human populous again. “Does spinning an object like a stylus cure your ineptitude to concentrate?”

The man paused and stared at the stylus, as if contemplating the universe before looking back at her and shrugged. “It is what it is.”

“I do not understand.”

“It's hard to explain why I do it, I just do.” He then grinned, which for some reason, affronted her. “Want me to teach you?”

It was a rather eventful thirty minutes.

She was startled out of her silent reverie when First Officer Shelana buzzed and entered her quarters, carrying what looked like a cracked dilithium crystal. “Captain, we're down another one. Orders?” The Andorian's antennae twitched in what looked like irritation. Her First Officer may still be blaming Lorita for the blowout after the long battle with Orion pirates. T'Shani quietly admitted that the Human engineer was a bit too trigger-happy regarding their engines.

T'Shani set the stylus down and rose from her seat, falling into her efficient Captain mode. “Continue course to Sol System for repairs. We'll drop impulse power to fifty percent this time. It would be more logical to move slower than risk another blackout.”

“Affirmative, Captain,” Shelana nodded and paused, halfway out the door, her eyes moving toward the old stylus on the desk. “Uh...were you, twirling that stylus?” T'Shani felt heat rise up in her cheeks, but she wasn't blushing. Vulcans do not blush. And they do not lie either.


“May I ask why?”

Raising an eyebrow, she slowly rolled her shoulders back in a shrug, giving Shelana her best answer. “It is what it is.”
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Join Date: Dec 2007
Posts: 120
# 43 "Patience" Part 1
05-20-2011, 10:44 AM
“Patience” Part 1
By Thermalscorpion

"The Pashtir ambassador is refusing to speak to anyone for the next four hours Admiral," Lieutenant Connors said in a sheepish tone.

"I see. He simply wishes to recapture the initiative in the negotiations. Pashtir are long game players. Let him have his four hours, but at hour three, message the ambassadors’ aides that we will restart the negotiations in the observation deck. I want engineering to check the environmental systems in the briefing room we have been using," the Starfleet admiral behind the desk replied in her even tone.

The lieutenant had a perplexed expression, "Admiral? The environmental system seemed to be working fine."

"Correct. The change of venue will serve to neutralize any initiative advantage the Pashtir ambassador expects to gain. They are a very territorial species and relocating the negotiations will force him to reacclimatize to the physical area. At twenty minutes into the negotiations, bring in a tray of Kitarian chocolates and some Trixian bubble juice. The Pashtir ambassador likes both and it will help settle the discomfort of being relocated with little warning just enough," the Admiral replied.


"Dismissed, Lieutenant."

The door to Vice Admiral Selir Ka’dest’s ready room hissed shut, leaving her alone save for the gently pulsing hum of the ship's systems. Despite her half Vulcan heritage, Selir found herself grasping for patience which remained as illusive as smoke on a windy day. Her other half, the Kelsaati side, urged action. Decisive action fueled by emotion.

After a week of moderating the negotiations between the Pashtir and the Ven'tai, little progress had been made. Each side was recalcitrant and, in the Pashtir's case, downright belligerent. The two species had been fighting for over sixty years and the conflict had drained each power's economy and spirit. They had asked for Federation help in mediating a peace treaty. In response, the U.S.S. Ascendant had been dispatched and Selir had been placed in charge of the mission.

In her long career with Starfleet, Selir had never considered herself a skilled diplomat. The numerous commendations and honors that filled her service record were all tied to her participation in conflicts or exploration. Of course, she had served in a diplomatic role numerous times during her fifty-five year career, but in comparison to her other accomplishments, those assignments had been few and far between.

The dark haired woman rose from behind her desk and crossed the spacious ready room. She paused in front of a small glass and wood shelf that had a few personal items on it and crouched down so she could reach the bottom shelf. Selir ignored everything but a simple wooden carving of a Sehlat that sat on the bottommost shelf.

Slowly, she reached for the pale wooden feline and traced the tips of her fingers along the figurine’s sloping back. The woodcrafter had paid careful attention to the shape of the carving, ensuring that every curve was accurate to the real creature. What it lacked was detail; the eyes were simple indentations, the toes were rounded and lacked distinct claws, and there was no clear shape that indicated the creature was furry.

What it did have were the very distinct fangs that most beings associated with the Sehlat species. Selir carefully picked up the wooden figurine and walked back over to her desk. She placed it in the center of the flat black desktop and took her seat again. Selir's brilliant green eyes focused on the object and then inhaled deeply. With steady control, Selir released the breath very slowly until it was entirely expended. The action was repeated several more times and, as she went through the meditative technique, Selir allowed part of her mind to journey into memory.

As a child of five, she had created the small item for her mother out of a piece of Tishal wood. It hadn't been voluntary. Her Vulcan mother had attempted to use the act of carving the wooden figure as an exercise in patience. Patience Selir had lacked as a child. Physically, she was more Kelsaati than Vulcan, but emotionally, she took after her mother's people. When she was younger, those emotions were very difficult for her to rein in. So much so that she had come into violent conflict with the Kelsaati children she played with more than once.

Selir distinctly remembered how gleefully she carved the fangs of the Sehlat and how much attention she had paid to the accuracy of their curve and sharpness of their points. At the time, she was angry that she wasn't allowed to go play and had imagined the small wooden figure biting her mother. That had been the predatory side of her personality, the Kelsaati side.

The Kelsaati had evolved from a felinoid species that had to compete to survive against numerous other predators that stalked the jungles of their homeworld. Like many of the creatures on their homeworld, they had evolved the ability to change shape and that had allowed them to view other creatures from a different point of view. It was that adaptation that had given them the ability to evolve true sentience and pull themselves out of a brutal existence of simple survival. It had taken them thousands of years to gain that control and then master their world.

As a people the Kelsaati were very harmonious and lived in large family groups that increased survivability on a dangerous world. They worked together as well as played together for the greater good of all. Conflicts were solved by ritual challenge versus warfare but Selir remembered conflicting more often than not.

Her father had told Selir the history of their people numerous times, and of their rise. He made her memorize the tales and take the shapes of the various creatures in them as a means of understanding herself and others. Unlike Selir's mother, her father made the lessons fun.

Selir felt a slight tinge of anger towards her mother, but pushed it away and let it flow back into the river of her mind. It was a holdover from her childhood. The two women had mended fences long ago. There was still occasional tension between mother and daughter but outright anger had been banished. Though Selir had never fully embraced her Vulcan heritage as her mother had hoped, she had taken the best of it and combined it with the best of her father's people.

That thought drew Selir forward in time. She remembered the day she arrived at the monastery on Vulcan as if it were happening at that very moment.

Anger had filled every part of a ten-year-old Selir as she stood before the large stone monastery. She had beamed down from the Kelsaati ship and was immediately struck by how hot and dry Vulcan was. At the time, she considered that the bleak unforgiving nature of the planet had mirrored itself in the people who evolved there, especially her mother. She was sent off with only a single bag that contained one change of clothes and one personal item from each of her parents.

Her father had given Selir his favorite Shrral blade, a short curving blade that was used for utility as much as it was for hunting and combat. Selir's mother had returned the wooden carving of the Shoat to her. At the time, Selir had perceived the gesture as a physical representation of her mother's revenge. The wise Vulcan woman had known exactly why Selir had put so much attention into the Sehlat's fangs and immediately called Selir out about it. Of course, it was a calm, logical, and emotionless discourse, but Selir had applied numerous emotional tags to what her mother had said.

Now, her mother was paying her back by exiling her from Kelsaat under the guise of learning emotional control. It had taken Selir over a year to fit in to the Vulcan monastery’s society. Calm was always elusive and there was never a chance to truly play. She had hated it and hated everyone around her.

It wasn't until Master Talvak returned from P'Jem that Selir found someone she could get along with. The relatively young Vulcan master reminded Selir of her father and displayed patience with her antics and temper just as he had. No matter how angry she grew at him, he would act as if Selir's demeanor were as serene as the desert after a sandstorm. Once Selir realized that nothing she could do would anger Talvak, her own fury seemed inconsequential and ebbed away.

Talvak challenged Selir to understand the Vulcan way and the reasons for why the Vulcan people reined in their own emotions. He had challenged her to be a wise Kelsaati hunter and learn how a Vulcan behaved and why so that she could never be bested by one. It had taken months to accomplish, but once that understanding had been achieved, Selir learned to love the Vulcan people as much as the Kelsaati.

As a reward, Talvak schooled Selir in the martial arts of Ponn-ifla and Kareel-ifla, though in the later she excelled. The more aggressive Kareel-ifla appealed to Selir's Kelsaati blood while the more defensive Ponn-ifla helped her find serenity. Learning the two styles let Selir find the balance she needed. It closed the rift between the Vulcan and the Kelsaati sides of her psyche. For the first time in her life, she felt whole.
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Join Date: Dec 2007
Posts: 120
# 44 “Patience” Part 2
05-20-2011, 10:44 AM
“Patience” Part 2
By Thermalscorpion

After ten years in the monastery, Selir announced her decision to apply for Starfleet Academy. Though Master Talvak understood Selir's desire to move on, her mother did not. Shortly after her announcement, Selir's mother arrived on Vulcan in an attempt to dissuade her from leaving. The argument that resulted was a battle of logic that seemed to stun Selir's mother. For once, Selir was calm and measured in her response as opposed to belligerent and hostile. In the end, her mother relented, acknowledging that her daughter had matured to an acceptable level. Then, Selir presented her mother with the wooden figurine that was as pristine as it had been the day it had been made and exited the room.

It would be years before Selir would see the figurine again. This time, it was at her wedding. Selir seemed to have a talent for disappointing her mother, and her choice of husband was no different.

Tellost Ker was a Joined Trill and a Lieutenant Commander in Starfleet. He and Selir had met on Risa five years prior and their brief but intense relationship had left them both wanting more. However, duty had called both of them away. Later, they had encountered one another on Deep Space Nine shortly before the Dominion War. They were both moving to their new posts on the Akira class cruiser, Helios. It hadn't taken long for each of them to realize that they wanted to make a commitment to one another.

Tellost was charming and funny and brought out those traits in the normally reserved Selir. As charming as Tellost was, he could also be infuriating. The Trill engineer had a penchant for speaking his mind when tact was better served and, in private, he would challenge Selir's patience by injecting chaos into her ordered life. Still, Selir felt more whole with his presence in her life than without.

Their relationship had also caused some contention in Starfleet as Selir was the first officer of the U.S.S. Helios and Tellost was to be its Chief Engineer. There was a worry about conflict of interest and the first officer being unwilling to sacrifice their loved one if it were necessary. Starfleet's regulations concerning officer's being allowed to honor their cultural traditions saved the couple's relationship. The Kelsaati routinely crewed their ships with mates, siblings, and parents, so the decision was made to allow Selir and Tellost to remain at their posts for a probationary period. Selir, in true Vulcan fashion, managed to keep her detachment and Starfleet made the arrangement permanent. A year later, the couple was married on Deep Space Nine.

At the end of the reception, Selir's mother presented her with the figurine once more. It seemed to be their strongest bond. There were few words exchanged concerning the small wooden Sehlat.

“You will need this.” Her mother said simply.

The sound of the ready room's door chime pulled Selir back to the here and now and she looked up from the figurine. "Enter."

Lieutenant Connors walked in and stood before Selir's desk. "Admiral, all of the requested preparations have been completed. I also made sure to add a few food items for all of the participants. Was there anything else?"

Selir shook her head and looked up at the wiry human man. "Thank you, Lieutenant. Take some time for yourself. We'll be in the thick of it soon enough."

Connors smiled warmly. "You should do the same, Admiral. The Pashtir ambassador seems set on causing you as much frustration as possible."

A reserved smile formed on Selir's lips. She picked up the Sehlat figurine and set it to the side of her desk. "I have three husbands, four wives, and eleven children. I believe I am ready for the Ambassador's tactics."

The young lieutenant chuckled. "It's hard to imagine the negotiations that must take place in your family, Admiral."

"Oh, I can give you quite a bit of detail if you'd like, but it may make you hesitant to get married," Selir said. Her eyes filled with mischief as she shifted from business-like Vulcan to playful Kelsaati.

The Lieutenant laughed quietly. "With all due respect, I think I'll leave the details to my imagination." He motioned to the wooden Sehlat on Selir's desk. "I've been meaning to ask, is that present from one of your children?"

Selir looked down at the figurine again, her fingers tracing the spine of it. "It's my patience."
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Join Date: Dec 2007
Posts: 120
# 45 Resistance
05-20-2011, 11:02 AM
U.S.S. Black Isle-C
NX- 92274-C
Reasearch Science Vessel (Experimental Class)

Commander Lilleth James


“Alpha shift has begun”

Lilleth sat up in her ready room as she heard the familiar sound of the computer announcing the beginning of a new day. She tapped her console to life, preparing for the onslaught of reports and requests she knew she was about to receive.

--Door Chime--

She let a small sigh out, knowing exactly who it would be.

“Come in”

“Ah Captain, there you are” the shorter, lithe betazoid woman called as she entered. “You didn't show up for your appointment this morning” she continued, a slight scowl gracing her flawless features. Oh how Lilleth hated those looks.

“I know, I'm sorry Bekah. Quinny's had me filling out these idiotic reports and... I lost track of time” she lied. One of the benefits of being a Joined Trill is that your poker face is impeccable. Unfortunately, due to her sleep deprived state she forgot who she was trying to fool.

“Really” Rebecca replied skeptically, pulling off her best vulcan eyebrow look.

Lilleth wasn't about to give in though. “What do you want Doctor?”

Rebecca was a bit taken aback by this sudden change in attitude and paused for a few moments. Lilleth took this as her cue to return her attention to her console, effectively dismissing the confused doctor.

As the doors slid shut, Lilleth leaned back in her chair, closed her eyes and traced the outline of her new implant. Images flooded her mind, some pleasant, others, not so much.
She knew Rebecca was only trying to help. They all were, but that's not what she needed right now.


“Delta Shift has Begun” announced the computer.

Lilleth hadn't realised what time it was. 'I must have fallen asleep this morning' she thought to herself.
Cursing, she stood, stretched and then padded to the door. Emerging onto the bridge, her bridge, she watched the various procedures and conversations that accompanied the changing of the watch.

“Commander” a soft male voice spoke from behind her.

Turning, she found the monstrous looking owner of the voice towering over her.

“Yes Karatek” She asked of her Reman science officer.

“I have been sensing unease from the both of you all day” He replied, his eyes penetrating her own. For a moment she thought she could see real concern in his usually fierce features.

She knew Karatek was a skilled telepath, potentially surpassing Bekah's skills, but how could she tell her crew what was going on? Or did he already know?

He pulled her aside, back into the alcove that lead to her ready room.

“Lilleth,” he intoned in a calm soothing voice, belying his fierce looks. “I can feel you're pain. I spoke to Dr Sillars earlier. You know you need help.”

She knew what he was saying was true but she would be damned if he thought she wouldn't resist.

Squaring her jaw and steeling her eyes, she stared him down “Stand aside Lieutenant”.

Before he could react, she brushed passed him and walked straight for the Turbolift.

“Deck 2 Section 1” she called as the doors closed behind her. She could feel the dull thud behind her eyes, a tell tale sign of a migraine starting.

The lift slid to a stop. The doors opened.

“Resistance Is Futile”

A scream pierced the dark assimilation chamber. The scream of a mother trying to protect her child. But there was no mother, there was no child. Only the bloodied form of a Trill, strapped to a table, a symbiont half outside of her body, with borg surrounding their forms. The young woman was desperately trying to fight her way out of her shackles, but it was no use. A device was moving slowly towards her head from above, countless sharp, pointed needles and laser emitters protruding from it.


“Captain are you alright!”

Lilleth looked up and suddenly found the usually stoic Liberated Borg's features a picture of concern.

“Three?” She questioned.

“Yes Captain. We should take you to sickbay, you appear most unwell” Three of Four responded, helping Lilleth stand.

“No” she replied with as much force as she could muster.

“But Captain..”

“No Three, help me to my quarters” Lilleth interjected before she could protest again.

To her credit, Three began to aid the Trill, past the small crowd of concerned crew members, to her quarters.

As they entered the slightly chilled room, Three helped set Lilleth down on a lounge chair.

“Would you like me to call Commander Smith or Doctor Sillars?” Three asked.

“No. Thank you Three,” Lilleth replied quietly, absently touching the implant above her eye.

Three nodded and turned to walk back out of the door. Just before she crossed the threshold, the former borg turned her head and said, barely in a whisper “Treasure your memories, treasure your possessions, treasure your new gift. We're here for you captain.”

The door closed behind her.

Was it really a gift?
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Join Date: Dec 2007
Posts: 120
Hello and welcome to our writers challenges!

Today we start the two-week run of the second Lit Challenge: Taking Command
In your time you have taken command of a number of ships and on many of them you walked in with a staff of senior officers to boot! How did you address your new crew? How did you handle officers who disliked you not promoting 'one of their own'? What frictions and what fun moments did you have when doing so?

This is the writer's thread.
The Discussion Thread can be found HERE.
We also have an index page of stories HERE.

The rules may change from one to the other, but I'd like to give a quick recap each time. These may grow as we move on, so feel free to also give feedback!
  • Each Challenge will run for two weeks. For 2 weeks we will sticky a subject and have at it.
  • There are no right or wrong entries. If you write 500 words of 3000: Write what inspired you and what your thoughts on the topic are - with one tiny mention:
  • Please heed the rest of the forums' rules when submitting your story!
  • Each poster can have one entry per character. Feel free to edit you post however to fix typos, add stuff or remove stuff as you see fit during the next two weeks.
  • After two weeks time, the thread will be locked and unstickied. If you wish to write on this topic after this time, there will be a place for this in the "Latecomer" thread.
  • We'll have two threads: One to post the stories, one to discuss the stories. *I will allow cross-linking between these two threads!!*
  • I will index your story by name and title (if you have one) for future reference.
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Join Date: Dec 2007
Posts: 120
# 47 ** First Draft **
05-21-2011, 12:28 AM
Cold Spell

........Damn! That was close. The Borg scan was off by a mere point-zero-two. As such, it passed right over us. In range, we would have been discovered. There's little a Delta Flyer can do against a Borg Sphere. Yes, I knew the risks. But the data acquisition was essential and necessary. The risks were irrelevant. Lieutenant Commander Det Kel, Major Lorixes, and myself hid within an asteroid's crater while having the Delta Flyer on minimum power. Every few minutes, Major Lorixes fluctuated the power modules of the Delta Flyer to mimic natural radiation. It was a trick he learned in his war with the Tal Shiar.

........We sat and waited for the Borg Sphere to leave. I'm pretty sure it hadn't actually detected us. It may have picked up some ionization from our warp trail, but it couldn't have had anything definitive. We just had to wait until the Borg determined their investigation was inefficient. Shuttle missions are risky business. As captain of a federation starship, I do my best to weigh the risks in relation to the officers who accompany me. I use these occasions to get to know crewmen better. Since both Major Lorixes and Lieutenant Commander Det Kel were recent additions to the crew, it seemed fitting to take them with me on this particular shuttle mission to the B'Tran Cluster deep in Borg Territory.

........"Major Lorixes," I said. "Tell me something about yourself." I took a reading of the Borg scan as it passed over the top of the asteroid's crater. Point-zero-one. The Borg have adjusted slightly. It was almost like they knew we were here. Impossible.

........"My wife was killed by a Tal Shiar hit squad," the Reman soldier stated matter-of-factly. He adjusted the power modules yet again.

........"Tell me about her," I said.

........"Hmmm," Lorixes mumbled. "She was a good mate." He volunteered nothing more.

........"Why did the Tal Shiar kill her?" The Breen asked, the tone of his voice sounding synthesized.

........"She knew things," Lorixes stated.

........"The sphere has launched class-one probes," Det Kel warned. He touched the console and it beeped in compliance. "Four of them, to be exact."

........I sighed in frustration, banging my fist on the console--not hard, but enough of a tap to convey my disgust. "Lieutenant Commander," I said to Det Kel. "Tell me something about yourself." I slid the control of the hull plating's polarization from a nine-two-three grade to a nine-one-seven. The gesture was to mimic radioactive decay and fool the Borg's readings, another Reman trick. The probes flew overhead, oblivious to the Delta Flyer.

........"Captain," Det Kel said. "Is this really the time?" His voice was broken and monotonous, distorted by his helmet.

........"Yes," I answered.

........There was silence. Several seconds passed. Then a full minute.

........"That's an order, Lieutenant Commander," I said.

........"Fine," Det Kel said. "I am an outcast, shamed by my thot, and all because I hesitated."

........"What do you mean," Lorixes asked. He adjusted the power modules, increasing by a few microjoules. His touch was delicate and deliberate. I had set to mind to ask him later how many times he had done this.

........"I was ordered to kill a Deferi slave for defying an order," Det Kel stated. "I didn't fire right away. It was a stupid order. My thot then shot the Deferi and ordered me to back to the base. I..." He didn't finish the thought, but shook his head from side to side.

........I studied Det Kel momentarily. The Breen people had no mercy, no compassion, no care for anyone, not even for another Breen. It was part of their culture, to be detached. Yet, I sensed in that moment Det Kel's inner struggle. It wasn't hesitation due to a weakness. It was conscientious deliberation.

........"Well, Lieutenant Commander," I said to Det Kel. "The Superior's officers are apt to see such qualities as admirable." I took a moment to check my readings on the console, and then turned back to him. "Our humanity is defined by compassion, by mercy."

........"Breenkind," Det Kel interjected, "see such qualities as..." He paused. "The Borg have retrieved their probes. Scans have ceased. They are powering their engines."

........I breathed a sigh of relief.

........The three of us watched our consoles attentively and monitored the Borg's retreat from the area. It only took seconds for the sphere's signal to disappear from our readings.

........"Finish your thought, Lieutenant Commander Det Kel," Major Lorixes stated as a formal command.

........The pause was brief. "Cowardly," Det Kel said. "Breenkind see such qualities as cowardly."

........Lorixes said nothing further. I may have observed a shaking of his head from side to side, as if in disapproval. I studied his body language. I saw pride, confidence, assurety of character typical of Reman freedom fighters. I looked over at Det Kel. Not so with him. He was slouched and dejected, his revelation bearing a heavy burden. He was wounded and surrendered, as if he was merely going through the motions and waiting for whatever was fated. So this is why they haven't been able to get along.

........I realized the three of us were going to need more of these types of shuttle missions.

~Vice Admiral Ceol A'Brian, Superior Memoirs
Lt. Commander
Join Date: Dec 2007
Posts: 120
# 48
05-21-2011, 03:30 PM
Taking Command " A Changing of Guard"

Ayesu "Senshi" Togowara. Reporting fresh from Medical Advanced Command Training.
Looking up from the Desk Admiral Quinn's Chief of Personal MAnagement Commander Sulu Thumbed through the PADD and cross referenced with
the Casualty Replacement request of Area Task Force and Theater Commanders.

At Ease Frocked Captain. I see you know a Few Vulcans and some Romulan.
SO I am sending you to support Special Unit in the Sierra System of the Alpha Centauri Block. Report to Admiral Zelle and as a courtesy report to ADM T'nae. Hum. You may sit. We see your crew of 100 includes two tactical Andorians.. How are they around Vulcans.. no need to answer its a rhetorical question. I dont see many request for ship Doctors or Field Researchers in Ancient Mars colonial history. What we dont need is Picards .. Can You be a Kirk? Dont answer that. How is your range score?

Hum Before I attach you from the USS Greece whom are you giving that Nova Class to.. I see you were advancing the Trill or Vulcan.. Why? I think you will need your most experienced staff to remain with you unless there is something your not telling me Mister? Well anyway I see when the Shipyard has finished a Dakota Class Cruiser You were requesting Tactical retraining and a Cruiser then when you changed your mind the Grasshopper Science Vessel was given to another commander..Your Last Battle Group Commander never listed wavering and put you near the top of all their private Promotion tracks. in the Regulated Sector. Section 31 has interesting things to say and if you MAke Flag Rank you'll get the access codes to read them. .Quinn just Told Me I was Making Captain and was Getting some Sexy new Ship.. Can you show up on ESD and take assignment Orders from Commander Wittners or LCDR DeSoto?
So The Ambassador likes you and you Clan never occupied either of our Lands in the old world.
So you go from a Ship of 50 to 100 then jump into a Cruiser of 400 and now are tracking for a Corcoran.. of 200. How are you at dealing with Re Staffing as a Higher rank sent out farther from support? How do you get along with Colonial Klingon Members of the federation UFP fleet? You can talk..Ok Im assigning a new Science and Engineer N'Darun and Kuhlaht.. Adm. Quinn wants to see you then the Stateroom formalities of Promotion.. Get the New Pips on that uniform before i see you next time and say "Hello" to Lt Laurel for me.
A new Area a new Corcoran Intrepid class variant. A Serious Rank. Mars Yards..Home.
Two new Klingon Officers, Pulling their Academy records from Captain Frocked Sulu. Finally out ranking those Rear echelons that played the paper game to get back out into the field.
Touching his Comm badge.. Senshi Signaled Greece his old ship that transported him instead of the Heavy Cruiser Shinkoku that had to remain on watch for Gorn incursions on the Psi Canis frontier. Commander Sezori pack your bags and have Transport Command reach Toni Chatzia and Corspa..Captain Sulu is Changing office and felt generous. .and let Slip they have a New Corcoran for us. EXEC a word of caution we are being sent two fine young Female Klingons.
Im jumping the hoops w Chief Operations meet me at the Tailors the Promotions PIPS are on me. Yes that means your getting a bump too. Senshi Out.
Grabbing the Shuttle to the yards new uniforms and PIPs Senshi had the Dedication and Ships Name Plaque and design pattern Virgo all set with ESD .. The 4th officer Kept the Cruiser on station pending command and the LCDR Senshi recommended was kept on the Greece. The Shuttle approach and docked at MArs Transit Officers Billets and rooms were assigned and retraining with Yards on systems upgrades dropped into place .. The Two Klingon officers arrived ahead of time and were a treat to meet both stepped into the ship tour with glee. Looking at Department and Bridge Chairs.. Like he once did. Time for advise Senshi looked at the Ship deployment board and Signaled "Aquila"
Cousin can you speak are we on a secure channel?
Aquilla- Yes Of Course I am half Vulcan after all. The Sela Arch is a fine Galaxy update and DS9 is a fine post. What about you.
Senshi- Romulan Space.. and a Cochrane with the latest updates to long rang.
Aquilla- Things heated up in the provinces since Sales Ascension Bring your new Ship to the Risa orbit in two weeks i have to sortie now.. cant tell you where but Ive been Promoted to Commodore! Im getting a New Sovey!
Senshi- Dont let that Romulan blood come out too far.. or INTEL may mettle.
Of course cousin . Rotate to Alt Command Codes for next Message.. <Aquilla, Out>

Department Heads Meeting Prior to taking the shuttle to dock with the new ship..
Commander Sezori. Set the goals to improve a Science Capabilities
LCDR Toni Set the standards for Engineering with a priority on survival and speed.
LCDR Corps Were back to a smaller ship So go easy on the boarding parties rituals until we whip things into shape.
I expect more from our new Lieutenants we brought with us and the new kids. We will be first on and walk through the ship wit the Yard Transition crew and Set the Plaque on the Bridge after a Christening in the hanger bay. Lt Chatzia take the two new ensigns with you to coordinate all guest staff parties. We Have a new Ship and her name is ARGO! Lets endeavour to keep her of the sirens rocks ..Shall we.

the Ships Standard duty uniform will be SF2.. Informal Dress will Be Wooly Pully .. I will Wear. Away Team Black OPS SCI. Take all Comm badges and run the SEC 31 nanite scans then seal them and re Issue Variant Comm Badges. After we leave the yards we report to our TAsk Force after screening with Theater Command at SB 39. After That we will operate under local command authority Special Unit.. Priorities will be Undine investigations. An Approved Report form will be loaded into your stations and pass through my Captains system. Ships Computer is set to filter all off ship COMM.
WELCOME to SEAL TEAM Senshi. Now See to you divison staffign Reports Dismissed.
Lt. Commander
Join Date: Dec 2007
Posts: 120
# 49 The Right Captain
05-21-2011, 06:54 PM
Come again, Bob thought to himself as Admiral Quinn handed him the PADD making him the new captain of the USS Huntsville. Bob looked down and it was true:
Ensign Bob Sentell is to take control of the USS Huntsville as of this stardate with all rights and privilege there to.
“Admiral, I’m just an ensign. Why would you make me captain of a ship?” Bob interjected.

“Ensign, I have been very impressed with your service record. And we are short on experienced officers. I think you would make a fine addition.”

“Admiral, this ship has higher ranking people on it. Why make me, an outsider ensign, the captain? There has to be better people.”

“Most of the crew is to be reassigned soon. You will have an opportunity to select a new crew. As a matter of fact, who do you want to be as your first officer?” The admiral grabbed a PADD to start working up the orders.

Bob thought for a moment and answered quite confidently, “Ensign Tala, the Andorian I served with on the Von Braun.” Tala was a trusted friend who help Bob out of a jam on Drozana. It's easy to start a fight with a Klingon; it's harder to end it. Fortunately, Tala prevented one of the Klingons from stabbing Bob in the back. After that, Bob and she became close friends.

“Done,” Admiral Quinn handed Bob the PADD. “You can pick her up after your first assignment. Beam to your ship; here are your orders.” The Admiral slipped Bob yet another PADD. Bob took a quick glance at it and decided he’ll look through it later once he is aboard his ship. His ship; still doesn’t sound right.

Bob walked to the turbolift to head up to the main deck. Once inside he gave his command to the computer and the turbolift shutters as it starts its move. This station is messed up. I like the old design better.

Upon arriving on the main deck, Bob walked to a corner and taps on his com badge, “USS Huntsville, this is the…” his voice hung for a moment, “captain. One to beam aboard.”

“Aye, sir,” the voice on the other end of the communicator responded. “Energizing.” And just as Bob started to feel the tingle of the transporter beam he thought to himself, what am I getting myself into? But the thought was lost as the atoms in his brain were torn apart.


As Bob materialized on the transporter pad, he was met by a young lieutenant. She couldn’t have been that much older than he if at all and she had the look of fear in her eyes. Her cheeks were red from constantly being wet, but at the moment she was able to compose herself. Her voice slightly cracked as she greeted him, “welcome aboard the Huntsville, Captain.”

“Status report.”

“We are currently taking on supplies and replacement weapons. We are finishing up three months of repairs and will be ready to leave space dock in 12 hours.”

Bob’s interest was piqued, “why was the ship in for repairs for three months?”

The lieutenant almost started sobbing, but was able to catch herself. “We were lucky to make it back to Earth. We were on patrol in the Mempa Sector when a Klingon squadron decloaked and attacked us. We didn’t even have time to get our shields up when the first volley hit. They had targeted the bridge and the entire senior staff was killed. We were drifting in space when the chief engineer was able to transfer control of the ship to engineering and we were able to survive long enough to meet up with reinforcements.

“Over 70% of the crew was lost. The chief engineer and I were the only officers to survive and he was transferred to another ship that also took heavy losses. We were surprised when Starfleet decided to repair this ship rather than scrap it. I have lost a lot of friends here, Captain. I… I can’t stay here anymore.” Her eyes were watery and she started to sob.

Bob reached out and put his hand on her shoulder and looked her in the eyes. With a gentle, yet confident voice he said, “I understand. And you will be able to leave after our next assignment if you wish. But until then, I will need everything you can give.”

She nodded her head and said, “Aye sir. I will do my best.”

“I know you will,” Bob said reassuredly. “What is the status of the crew?”

“We were informed of your arrival and so the crew is gathered in cargo bay one to for you to address them. We are understaffed with many departments having no people at all. You and I are the only officers, the rest of the crew are enlisted.”

Bob took in this information and a moment later responded, “very well. Lead me to the cargo bay.” And it was at the moment Bob understood why Admiral Quinn had selected him to be captain of this ship. This was not a Galaxy-class ship. No, this USS Huntsville was a Miranda-class ship with a skeleton crew that was in need of new life. The old crew had been left without a leader and Admiral Quinn saw that only Bob had the ability to lead.

As Bob turned the corner to enter the cargo bay the door slid open in his presence. As he looked at his crew he had the confidence he needed to lead them. He saw the fear in their eyes and made sure they saw they faith in his. He believed in his crew even though he had never met them; because they more he believed in them, the more they would believe in him.
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Join Date: Dec 2007
Posts: 120
# 50 Plant in Charge
05-21-2011, 09:23 PM
Title: Plant in Charge
Aboard the U.S.S. Bazalope-D, Defiant-refit.

“So what do we have here, Ulmek?” Captain Talar Bazran asked as he approached Nirol, his most senior science officer who has also a Reman . A blue plant stood in front of him as Ulmek was in the process of examining it. “I’m just about to a run a series of tests. I’m no Xenobotanist but I’ve got a friend and they’ll be able to us what we’re once I send all the data to them.”

“I still don’t understand why you wanted to bring it aboard. We see new plant specimens every week.”

“There is something strange about this particular plant. Its readings are unusual. As if there’s... something else to it.” He responded finishing up the final preparations for the computer to do its work.

“Computer. Perform a level 1 Xenobotanical analysis on plant sample.” He instructed the computer.

“Commencing Level 1 Xenobotanical analysis. Task expected to be completed in 5 minutes.” The computer responded.

“Alright, well let me know if you find anything interesting.” There was still plenty that Bazran had to do as a captain and not the least of which personnel reports that were starting to pile up. As he turned to leave suddenly the plant seemed to start giving off electrical discharges. “Computer, Cease all analysis.” Ulmek responded stoically and with authority but not before it was too late. One of the discharges hit the Captain and knocked him to the floor, unconscious.

“Sir?!” she exclaimed as she knelt down beside him. “Ulmek to Sick Bay. The Captain has been struck by some sort of energy discharge. Emergency Transport required.”

Moments later, In Sick Bay

“There is no profit in you dying, captain!” Nirol, a female ferengi and the ship’s Chief Medical Officer, buzzed about trying to work out what happened. “His neural synapses are being repressed. It should be fixed by stimulating the neurochemicals but he’s not responding.” She exclaimed frustrated at her inability to revive her commanding officer. “There’s got to be something else happening, what am I missing?” she exclaimed.

Meanwhile, somewhere that has no real location

The deep inky black, it felt like he was swimming in a never ending pool one where breath and time did not matter. There was a ball of something light, perhaps some kind of energy. He could feel it as if it were draining the very energy out of his body.

He futilely tried swinging his fists but it didn’t seem to work at all. He was too far away. “Who are you, and what are you doing?”

There was a moment’s silence before it spoke. “An interesting language you have, Captain Talar of Bajor. So many words so much meaning, so varied and full of life.” It spoke in fluent Bajoran dancing switching between it and the Federation Standard. “Not only language, but your bodies they are so mobile. So... unstable and yet that is exactly how they are meant to be. You are very interesting indeed. I will have fun in my body.” The voice was almost melodic but lacked any real tone. It was as if he was talking to an emotionless thing.

“What do you mean; new body?”

“Never the less despite your advantages you aren’t used to your own psychic landscape. And a dark place it is.”

“Answer my question.”

“Your old body. I’m syphoning off your neural energies and will replace them with mine. Therefore your body will become mine. Don’t worry. I’m not killing in return for your body you shall get mine.”

“Who are you, what body?”

“You don’t have a name for me. To you I am just a plant something to be examined to be studied. Now you’ll get to have the greatest chance to study my body as it becomes yours.”

“This is my body, my earring, my Pagh... You are not taking any of them away from me.”

“Oh, you are a fighter. A man with a strong will. Yes, I can see that. And I see your past the decisions you’ve made. Haunted by some memories but proud of others. I knew it would be difficult and I enjoy a challenge and I am getting so much enjoyment out of this. Pity it’s only a matter of time the longer we fight the stronger I become.”

“Yeah, well I’m used to fighting as the underdog.” Somehow as the words were spoken Talar Bazran changed in form to look exactly the same as this intruding consciousness, however with a slight red tinge.

The balls of energy collided together and they seemed to join the red tinge faded and then so did the whole scene.

Back, in the Sick Bay

“Neural indicators returning to Normal. Captain are you alright?”

The words could be heard but nothing seen though the eyes opened slowly to reveal Nirol. Her short form looming over him on the sick bed.

“Nirol, yes. I’m fine what happened?” he said weakly barely putting much energy behind it.

“It looks like you got struck with an energy discharge the discharge created a psychic link between you and the plant Ulmek was studying. We were able to find it and break it. Are you sure you’re alright. Yes, just a bit groggy it was a bit of an ordeal.”

“Yes, I could tell. I knew you were fighting it because there psychic link was fluctuating it was the fluctuation that allowed us to find it in the first place.”

“Good, don’t mind me. I’ll just pass out a bit.” He said as he sighed and closed his eyes to rest.

“That’s to be expected after all the mental exertion that you did. Also a good excuse to deal with the reports any other time, yes?”

“You read my mind.”

“It does not take a Ferengi’s business sense to know that there is, on occasion, profit in rest. I’ll leave to re-cuperate. Sleep well Captain.”
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