[Baldanara System, Near Klingon Border]
Kaen tapped his fingers on the armrest while studying the viewscreen. The Quantum Fury, cloaked amidst the stars, lurked just a few hundred meters beneath a Ferengi freighter and a Klingon BOP. "I wonder what they are doing?" The Cardassian smirked and leaned forward and turned looking at his Romulan Captain "maybe the Ferengi are just delivering a supply of gourmet Gagh? With some crates of bloodwine to wash it down with and a few grubs for dessert?" He flashed his teeth in a grin "ah, the thought makes me hungry."
"Hungry?" A disgusted voice rose from behind them at the base of the turbolift. The fiery red headed chief medical officer crossed the bridge until she stood next to Khiy- her green eyes angrily focusing on the Cardassian next to him "that is one thing the Klingons and Ferengi have in common- nasty eating habits and as for you commander... If I smell another plate of fish in the mess I think I'm going to vomit."
"Why doctor- now that you mention it. I had a little for breakfast and washed it down with a nice cup of Kanar." He lifted his head, let out a breath of air, and rotated his hand wafting the odor towards the young doctor. Savannah abruptly pressed her wrist against her nose forming a disgusted expression as she stepped back "you be careful Onarin- I'll remember this the next time you lose a leg and I'll be damned if you ever find it again." She huffed and then looked at Khiy "Captain- you need to get your injection."
"It can wait." Khiy stated plainly. He stood up and took two steps forward to get out from between the doctor and his executive officer. "Have they completed the transfer?" Khiy asked looking at his Selay tactical officer.
The reptilian shook his head "one lassst container captain." He hissed.
Khiy waited quietly- his gaze set on the viewscreen. Behind him his executive officer and the doctor continued their verbal offensive against one another. The enitre bridge crew seemed tuned to the pair save for T'Ern with her steadfast vulcan focus and Nik Nok who was too busy preparing a decent firing solution.
"Last container transsssfered ssssir." Nik Nok hissed.
"Decloak and disable the freighter." Khiy ordered and watched silently as the Klingon and Ferengi ships' abruptly began to turn- but it was too late for the Ferengi freighter as a red-hot beam cut into their engines causing the yellow glow of their exhausts to flicker out. As the freighter drifted out of the viewscreen the Quantum Fury twisted until its mass of gun-ports were directly in line with the Klingon Bird-Of-Prey. "Open a channel." Khiy ordered.
The viewscreen flashed from the external view of the BOP to the dark red glow of a Klingon bridge. The Klingon Commander was clearly agitated as he flashed a disruptor at the viewscreen. "How dare you spy on us! You..." His eyes squinted "Vulcan PetaQ!"
"Vulcan?" Khiy frowned "do not insult me." In front of him he could see T'Ern raise a single eyebrow at the comment.
"It would wise not to annoy him too much mister Klingon commander." Kaen said and stood up walking next to his little Captain "he might be tiny but he will kick your ass. You seem to have forgot the import question however." He looked at Khiy "may I explain to him what the proper response would have been Captain?" Kaen looked at Khiy who nodded his head.
"You see Klingon." Kaen said "it would have been much more appropriate if you had addressed us in a kinder-gentler manner. Something like 'good evening Captain, why would the Federation trouble this poor old Klingon businessman on this bright and vacuumed filled day?' A little manners go a long way you know. Hell, we may have even cut you some slack..." Khiy shook his head at that comment and Kaen rolled his eyes "well maybe not- but it certainly would have been nice. What can a crew do to get some respect around here?"
"What the hell are you blabbering about Cardassian!" The Klingon Commander slammed his fist into the armrest of his chair "How dare you threaten us!"
"Me? Threaten?" Kaen looked at Khiy "why I never..."
"Shut up." Khiy sighed "you talk to too much Commander." He turned his attention to the Klingon "arm shipments within Federation space is strictly prohibited and illegal. Please lower your shields and prepare to be boarded and have your cargo inspected. Failure to comply result in the disablement and impoundment of your vessel. "
"PetaQ" He shouted and the view screen cut out to a picture of the BOPs front gun-port glowing bright red.
"Red Alert." Kaen chuckled and retreated to his seat. Khiy however remained standing as a torpedo was launched towards the fury.
"Evasive maneuvers." Khiy ordered and the ship lurched away from the torpedo. "Target their engines and fire." With the order the Fury unleashed hell on the Klingons. Red breams crisscrossed blue torpedoes as explosions ripped across the Klingon's shielding. Sparks and flames could be seen within their nacelles as the shielding keeping the Fury's weapons at bay quickly faded and with them any the chance the Klingon's had of escaping. It took only a minute for the Fury to overpower the ship. Once the shields were down and the engines gone Khiy checked his sidearm and then turned towards the turbo lift "Lieutenants Nik Nok organize two security teams for the inspection. T'Ern, and Alia- with me." Khiy started towards the lift as the junior's hurried to follow but was stopped by Kaen's voice.
"Sorry Captain, no playtime today. You just received a communiqué from Earth. I don't think you want to blow off the President." Kaen leapt out of his seat "I'll go play with our Klingon buddies instead." He grinned "this should be fun!"
Khiy shook his head as Kaen and the others disappeared into the lift. He looked at Savannah "doctor you have the bridge." She looked a bit stunned at the order but gleefully plopped down into the plush Captain's chair as Khiy headed into his ready room.
[USS Quantum Fury, Ready Room]
The President's image was already waiting for him on the holographic viewer as he entered the ready room. He nodded at her "madam President. What do I owe the pleasure?"
"Let's dispense with the pleasantries Captain." She smiled "I know you are very business so let's get down to business. I'm not going to order you- I've read your history so I don't want Starfleet to force you to do anything you don't want to do- but Captain. The Federation needs your help. It hasn't been announced yet but Admiral Enor was killed on Romulus."
She paused. Khiy noticed the hint of distress in the President's voice and the tension that pulled the wrinkles deeper towards the corners of her lips. While Khiy did not know the Admiral very well he knew the Trill was well respected- such a loss would certainly be felt across Starfleet. "The Charon was dispatched to Romulus. Are they unable to deal with the situation?"
"Business." The President appeared to snap back into her rhythm "yes- the Charon is local but Captain Rehu has taken a leave of absence to deal with more personal matters."
During such a crisis? Khiy was stunned considering her nature but he hid it well beneath that stoic veneer of his fitting of a Vulcan. "And you believe my insight into the Romulans will benefit this mission?"
"You read my mind." The President quipped with a sly smile "if you succeed you may make full Admiral within the next ten years. No need to even ride your mother's coat tails."
A wince shattered his veneer "very well."
"Ah, good. The USS Hayden will rendezvous with the Quantum Fury. Mission details will be provided once you arrive on the Charon."
[End]
Captain Khiy Kanryth
Act Commanding Officer
USS Charon
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Sunday, June 26, 2011
[USS Charon] SD 2400606.26 || Character Story || "Die Tonight, Live Forever", Part VII || Ens. Landon Neyes, NPCs
=/\= SD 240605.02, The TCV Nodlan, Du'Ji Cluster (five LYs from Trill) =/\=
The Nodlan's engines roared to life and the ship turned on it's axis, thrusters firing small bursts from the hull. She was remarkably agile for her size, and once Landon punched the acceleration, it shot out at full towards a planetoid.
"They're getting closer, Landon! I can't get a clear reading on their signature though. They just show up as some kind of unmanned probe to the computer."
"They're proximity drones." Neyes said plainly, his eyes not moving from the ship's controls.
Odalla moved from her position on a sitting bench to an actual position, deciding it best to man an ops station. She was cleared on basic ship functions, after all. "Why are we running from them? And where's Daeryx?"
Neyes continued to work the controls. This woman was obviously not grasping the nature of this little adventure they'd followed him on. "They have about four quantum torpedo warheads in their hull, Odalla. They' re designed to target ships and hunt them down. This ship isn't fast enough to outrun them." He looked quickly from one sensor reading to another as he worked. One of these had to be big enough for what he had in mind. "The Ferengi no doubt had them commissioned to track and destroy us once we left dock.
"Ferengi? Why? How do you plan to outrun them, then?" Greg asked, a little more than interested in why the Ferengi would be chasing them.
"You two. Worry about getting the ship ready for concussive impacts to the shields and hull. I'll need as much power to the engines as you can spare, otherwise. This isn't going to be fun, or terribly simple. So please, if you could, let me work." Neyes said, finally raising his voice a little.
The two members of the little trio looked to each other and then back down to their instruments. There was no reason to keep asking questions, they supposed. Especially if things were about to get a little bumpy.
"One's within 1 million kilometers and is closing WAY too fast! It'll intercept in about 20 seconds, Ensign." Odalla said, rising to the occasion. "We need to lose it!"
Landon nodded and worked the helm with a resolute intensity. His fingers graced the controls, hitting each command exactly when it needed to be done. The Nodlan banked to starboard, it's small winged-nacelles turning over each other, and then it dove down into a massive planet-sized asteroid. Smaller debris rushed past the vessel as Landon continued to pick up speed as they plummeted downward. A small but extremely well-armed , probe-like ship raced down after them, only deviating to sidestep obstacles. Greg clutched onto the controls, suddenly stricken by anxiety. The asteroid was coming up too fast to be safe, and the ship's Trill-designed deflectors weren't intended to repel any crash damage.
"Donny, slow dow--"
"If we do that we're dead." Landon cut him off.
"6000 meters!" shouted Odalla, a little panic creeping into her voice. She hadn't signed onto this assignment so she could be chased by suicide bombs, and now all she wanted was to get the hell out of there and go home.
The ship careened down toward the planetoid until it overtook the entire screen and then Landon bucked the ship upwards. It sho t from it's dive into a path parallel to a ravine about 2 kilometers wide, and slipped down inside. Alarms sounded on the helm, and Neyes quickly silenced them. The probe seemed to follow above them for a moment, then also took a quick turn and followed them into the canyon. The Nodlan's engines burned fiercely as Landon pushed them to their limit. The jagged walls of the canyon loomed closer and closer as the width of the chasm seemed to diminish. Greg tried not to look up at the viewers or the windows, since he worried he'd lose all sense of calm if he realized just how close they were to being crushed, then vaporized. Rocks and ships of metallic ore clipped the hull and pelted the shields. The sounds filled the cabin where the three crewmen worked to outrun the death-dealing machine. It still seemed to come after them, however.
"Hold on!" Neyes cringed as he executed the next maneuver.
The Trill ship fired a few thrusters, turned to port on it's axis, and the primary engines cut entirely, leaving the ship to turn to the side while still moving forward with the force of it's own momentum. She was too large to simply 'go' in one direction without inertial drift, but Neyes had a plan.
"Doesn't this ship have weapons?!" Odalla yelled out from the back.
Landon laughed. "Of course. Lets shoot a bomb that's nearly scraping away at our hull." He began to calculate as the few seconds he had left to think started ticking away. "All power to the shields, covariant f requency, and reinforce the wingtips on the nacelles.
"Computer. Activate helm manual interface. Setting 'Ki'djual dai heq'." The helm controls shut down and the panel rolled back into a recession at the bow, and they were replaced with a a few pedals and two complicated looking handle grips.
Greg's face lost some color. "Landon. You wouldn't."
A deviously thin smile lit up in the corner of the pilot's mouth.
As a split in the ravine came into view, Greg closed his eyes. Neyes breathed a heavy exhale through his teeth as he took the grips and slammed down into two of the pedals with his feet. The Nodlan practically screamed as her engines flared to life and accelerated at the opening. The small ship's hull moaned slightly and Odalla yelped as she was thrown from her seat by the torque. With a spin and a bright burst from the impulse thrusters, the Nodlan rushed in a new direction.
"Hold on!" Neyes cried.
The turn was proving too much for the ship, and the wall of the ravine was coming up far faster than it should have. With the inertial forces sliding her in the previous direction they'd headed, they were going to hit. Greg clutched onto his seat and braced himself for the worst.
A sharp deceleration and terrifying screech of metal against rock filled the cabin as the very tip of Nodlan's nacelle wing dove into the rocky wall of the canyon. Rocks split open in their path as the meat of the wing carved a line into the canyon, sending a flurry of debris cascading outward behind them. A sea of spar ks lit up the side of the ship and inside the cabin a conduit ruptured, pouring residual steam as it waved about the quaking deck. Landon had one of his feet braced against the helm, but cried out as he felt something give in his knee, and Greg was thrown against the primary controls.
Neyes bared through the pain in his leg and pulled them starboard, up and out of the collision. The Nodlan's engines hesitated at first, then met him with an abrupt response, yanking itself free.
The small probe giving chase swiftly fired it's maneuvering thrusters, diving out and away from several of the massive rocks that Neyes had ripped out. It's tiny, steely shell reflected the rocks and shards that leapt past it, but even as fast as it was it was unable to avoid them all. It clipped a smaller asteroid, tearing a piece of it off, and the probe immediately lost attitude control. Spinning out of control, it collided with the wall and exploded. With a deafening crack, the concussion ripped through the planetoid, and an explosion billowed up and outward, filling the rear viewers of the Nodlan with an intense mixture of blues and greens. A soft white line of fine dust shot out in a wave over the planetoid's surface, displaced by the massive explosion.
Greg pulled himself up and brushed a little blood from under his nose. Seeing the shockwave, he dropped power from the reinforcements at the wingtips and rerouted it to the aft defenses. Moments later, the Nodlan was bucked forward, its shields afire as they kept the destructive energy at bay. Landon managed to regain control of the ship, and took them up and out of the ravine.
"Now we can use weapo ns." He sighed, cringing for a moment as he nursed his knee.
Odalla practically hissed as she slid herself back into her seat after being tossed about the cabin. "They're all offline! Two more probes headed our way!" She threw a piece of severed piping at the back of Neyes' head. "What other recklessly bright ideas do you have up there?"
=/\= TBC =/\=
Landon Neyes
NPCs
Sunday, June 12, 2011
[USS Charon] SD241106.11 duty log, CSci Commander Arcos
ON: //---Science Office---// ON: Commander Arcos sat at his desk preparing his schedule recommendations for the week. As the week had progressed some of the important labs went from the critical point of observation to completion. The biology lab had produced some overly zealous data about a common bolian coffee substitute. The chemistry lab too had done its part to isolate the chemical compound of its effectiveness. The medical teams would now have thier go at it in clinical trials for the stimulant presumably, but it was unclear wiether or not it was going to be utilized in natural state or not. Given enough time, it could be an effective herbal remedy served in the ships lounge. "You know, I ought to thank you, Ensign." The commander looked over to his administrative assistant. "You've given me an answer to what I should drink besides coffee when I am up late. I'd say this herbal supplement tastes rather odd, but I am certain the ships chef will come up with a great malt or blended drink with its extract. Plus you've kept the train going on our departments research and utilization of encountered edible plants. I'd say our newest Botany chief, Petty Officer Smith will have her hands full keeping the plant from dying." "Oh?" The ensign raised an eyebrow uncertain what could be the problem. He hadn't done any research on how to keep the plant alive. "Bolian's have a very unique planetary ecosystem. The terrain from where this plant was cultivated is… in a sea cave in the west part of the largest continent. The potassium salt content is interesting to say the least. You know the drill, potassium chloride solution trickles into the cave…" He started, but vorn finished the sentence. "And the plant filters out the water… until the pods burst leaving a potassium Chloride salt ring around plant, so?" "Are you aware of the danger of the bursting pods in close proximity to some of our nitrate root stimulants also present in the lab..." "ah… I think I will tell Petty officer smith to isolate the plants." "It's already been done, but the bursting pods have to spread the potassium far enough from the central stem in order to keep the next growth from dying… it's a sticky situation… as shoots of the herb can not tolerate that high of concentration of potassium chloride…" "I never noticed that in our experiments…" "Molarities of the solution must be kept at ideal levels… it has to trickle down to the new shoots in less substantially less quantity then the bursting pods with the seeds taking root elsewhere in the cave after washing away… long story short, she will have to trickle down the quanities to the center and remain in utter darkness… except during the seeding process." "wait seeding process?" "The pods 'burst' and a inner pod is released, the waves in the caves take them through the inner channels of the cave where light is shown half their trip as the succeeding tide brings them in and out of the opening. As they are placed in the planting area." "Can't we duplicate this?" "I hope so… that's the best coffee I had in a long time." --OFF— Commander Arcos Darye And |
Thursday, June 2, 2011
[USS Charon] SD241106.01 || Personal Log || "Buried Treasure" - Lt. Leon Athalla, Pilot
U.S.S. Charon
“Buried Treasure”
________________________________
“Give me a hand with this would ya”, crewman Vaan shouted over his shoulder. “It’s heavy.”
Lt. Leon Athalla sighed and helped the struggling crewman lift the heavy crate onto a nearby antigrav.
“Is this what you do all day”, Athalla asked wiping beads of sweat from his forehead.
“Yep. Not all of us are out here for the glitz and glory like you pilots. Besides, my chances for living a long life are far better in this cargo bay than in the cramped cockpit of those death machines you fly. You my friend are getting the sharp end of the stick let me tell you.”
The two men grunted as they lifted another heavy crate onto the antigrav sled. “Is that so”, Athalla stated. “Sorry, I’m not having fun unless the candle is burning from both ends. If you stuck me in a predictable, stable, job like this I’d go insane. No offense.”
“None taken”, Vann replied lifting a smaller crate and scanning it into inventory. “So if all the action and excitement is in piloting then why are you here in the cargo bay?”
Athalla chuckled with a sheepish grin. “Yeah…well let’s..just say I had a disagreement with a certain superior over proper flight procedures. A skilled pilot can safely land a Valkyrie fighter without automation systems. Tractor beams and computer auto-pilots are for trainees and cadets. A true pilot should have no problem correcting for pitch, roll, angle of approach, speed, attitude, and orientation. The Charon sits in empty space. It’s not like this is ship is a carrier pitching and rolling on the high seas – which consequently is also an excellent place to test a pilot’s true mettle.”
Vaan stared at the pilot with a blank expression. “Not following you.”
Athalla sighed. There were too few pilots aboard that could appreciate his prodigious, piloting prowess.
“I landed my bird on the Charon after a practice mission without using the auto-pilot systems. My superior was having a bad day and I got chewed on for it. He kicked me down here to think it over. If he would stop quoting regulation rule books and just fly he might be a decent pilot, but he’s far better at playing the clean marine if you know what I mean.”
“Not sure that I do, but I’ll take your word on it.”
Athalla put his face into his hand. Why couldn’t he have landed a gig on a heavy cruiser or carrier with actual squadrons? Why had Starfleet stuck him on the Charon with a pitiful band of ragtag outcasts with aging fighters and only a handful of them at that. Where was the latest or fastest fighter? He’d kill for a slot as a test pilot at one of the fleet yards and yet… Testing new tech was fun, but if one never got a chance to use it, where was the fun in that?
“What’s this”, Vaan asked brushing off a large crate that was unusually dusty. “This isn’t on any of the manifests. I can’t find it in the inventory anywhere.”
“What”, Athalla responded dryly. “What are you agonizing over?”
“I can’t find this container anywhere in the system. Do you think it might be contraband? Perhaps someone is trying to smuggle something? What do you think is inside? Weapons? Treasure?!”
Athalla slowly closed his mouth which was hanging open. This crewman was getting this excited over a single crate?! Athalla shook his head. This boy needed to get out more or have his head examined…or both.
“It might just be empty”, Athalla muttered deflating Vaan’s sudden burst of excitement. “Why don’t we open it and see what’s inside?”
“OPEN IT? ARE YOU KIDDING”, Vaan shouted.
“No. Not at all. Why?”
“That’s a violation of protocol! What if it is booby-trapped or contains a deadly poison or an alien lifeform. It could endanger the ship! No! We have to report this immediately so that the proper precautions can be taken according to section 134 paragraph 17 of the….HEY!!!”
“Hmm…it’s a Type 2, RNX-72. It’s a Romulan locking mechanism. These babies are fairly good, but if you know what you’re doing…”
“What..what are you doing”, Vaan shouted. “You can’t open that! Step away from the container now!”
“Or you’ll what”, Athalla asked tinkering with the lock and a tricorder he had grabbed.
“I’ll call security on you.”
“Really? Pulling rank on a superior officer, crewman? I could have you put on report for insubordination. You sure you want to call security?”
“You pilots think you own this ship!”
“No…we don’t own it. We just put our asses on the line to keep it all nice and safe for you here on the inside. Until you put yourself and your life in harm’s way for others why don’t you leave the threats to the big boys, eh? Oh, and could you take a step to your left? You’re in the light.”
“But sir, this…”
“Ah! There we go!” The container emitted several loud beeps as the electronic locks disengaged.
“How? How did you do that?!”
“A misspent adolescence I’m afraid”, Athalla replied. ‘Learned a few things I probably shouldn’t have”, he said with a smile.
There was a loud hiss as the container unlocked itself with a satisfying metallic snap. Within seconds a fine, white mist began flowing from the unlocked seals that had been released.
“SEE! It IS dangerous! Don’t breathe in the vapor! There’s no telling what that is!”
Athalla nudged the container’s heavy lid open with his boot as he peered inside. A thick cloud of mist rose into the air before dissipating revealing a chest full of treasure.
“Bottles? What is this? Romulan Ale?!”
“A small fortune in Romulan Ale”, Athalla answered sifting through the various chilled bottles. “Sunnuva, this stuff isn’t just good, it’s fantastic! 2297? Wait, 2265? Athalla’s eyes grew in size. “There must be several thousand credits worth of ale in here! I’ve only heard about some of these vintages!”
“Contraband! Contraband pure and simple. Wait until I tell the bay master about this! Can you believe the nerve of someone trying to smuggle illegal merchandise aboard a ship of the line? Security will want to have a look at this as well. I suspect they will want to know who this belongs to and arrest them for the half dozen crimes they have committed…”
Athalla carefully looked through the bottles until he spied a single symbol that instantly identified the owner of the illegal merchandise.
“Oh, you sly dog”, Athalla muttered under his breath. “You sly, sly dog. Must be nice being able to pull rank.”
“What? What are you mumbling about”, Vaan asked.
Athalla slammed the lid of the container, re-engaged the locks, and lifted it onto an unused anti-grav sled.
“What, what are you doing? Where do you think you’re going?”
“Crewman, I’m taking this with me. You can finish up here without me. You’re far better than I at keeping the cargo hold safe from the evils of disorganization, clutter, and chaos.”
“Just a moment! That’s illegal contraband! You can’t just…”
“Take it”, Althalla replied. “Yes I can. I think I know who this belongs to. They might want it returned. And besides if they knew it was here they might just blame those responsible for watching over it. You did say it was an oversight right? That it had been forgotten? Misplaced? And who around here is in charge of keeping the manifests and inventory ledgers in tip-top shape? Oh wait, that’s you. If I were you I’d just keep this to yourself. The owner of this crate isn’t someone who is typically blessed with copious amounts of patience and understanding. I’d hate to see them storm in here demanding answers or someone’s head – if you get my drift.”
Vaan swallowed. “I thought you were on report yourself?”
“Reports come, reports go. My superior is probably off chewing someone else out for not polishing their flight stick or if he had any sense he’d be drinking the time away seeing as there hasn’t been any action on this tub for an eternity. Just keep your mouth shut, ok?”
Athalla looked at the crewman doubtful the runt would stay quiet.
“Look. Drop by pilot country sometime. I’ll make it up to you. Let ya sit in my fighter or something ok?”
“REALLY?! YOU MEAN THAT?!”
Athalla inwardly cringed. What had he gotten himself into?
“Sure…whatever. Just keep this on the down low. None of us want any trouble. Right crewman?”
“Yeah. Ok. I can do that. When can I drop in? Can I meet the other pilots? You think we could…you know hang out?”
“Yeah…well let’s play all that by ear. Ciao.”
Athalla activated the anti-grav and pushed the container out of the cargo bay thankful to have escaped. Attacking a squadron of Tholian fighters single handed was less demanding than dealing with that crewman. But on to the task at hand. He had a delivery to make and perhaps a small finder’s fee to claim.
Anything bearing the crest of the Federation Diplomatic Corps was sure to have some intrinsic value to a certain individual aboard the Charon…
[ To Be Continued… ]
________________________________
Lt. Leon Athalla
Combat Pilot, USS Charon
And
Crewman Vaan (NPC)
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