Topic: A new Story?  (Read 18317 times)

0 Members and 1 Guest are viewing this topic.

Offline Grim Reaper

  • The 4th Horseman, the Lord of Death
  • Lt.
  • *
  • Posts: 577
  • Gender: Male
  • Beyond the apocalypse
Re: A new Story?
« Reply #20 on: February 21, 2006, 02:18:33 am »
Me like! nice and fast past rollercoaster ride.
Snickers@DND: If there is one straight answer in that bent little head of yours, you'd better start spillin' it pretty damn quick, or I'm gonna take a large, blunt object, roughly the size of Kallae AND his hat and shove it lengthwise up a crevice of your being so seldomly cleaned that even the denizens of the nine hells would not touch it with a 10-feet rusty pole

Offline Jaeih t`Radaik

  • "I'm the unknown Commander, who makes the Empire look so good."
  • Lt. Junior Grade
  • *
  • Posts: 238
  • Gender: Female
  • Elements willing, we shall prevail!
    • Federation Starbase 23
Re: A new Story?
« Reply #21 on: February 23, 2006, 09:21:19 am »
Hey Guv, Sorry for being gone for so long, but its sweet that you miss me. *grin*

I really like this story. That's me, I'm done. Next!

Just kidding, here's what I think:

Favourite line of the story so far:
Quote
“I don’t want to talk to them. That’s what I hired you for.”

Your characterisation is really good, Guv. I genuinely like these people, see them as people. I also like your reply to Andy, in that you allow your characters to be wrong about things. This is really good work.
Also, I'm guessing Daniel Neyachev is the TNG admiral's father/grandfather?

Best "I'm a Fred captain, I have morals" line:
Quote
In the end, he liked what he found within himself. His mission was to return captured soldiers to their homeland. He could live with that.

Aww, he really is a Federation captain! Seriously though, I like this line too. Shows he does have a problem with change (as all people do), but finds a way to deal with it and still look himself in the eye every morning and like what he sees.

Biggest "Oopsie, I, like totally didn't see the dichotomy there..." scene:
Quote
“Very well, comm. Begin wide-band jamming of all comm signals. Tactical, lock aft weaponry on the foremost vessel and fire as she bears.”
...
“Lead vessel has begun active targeting.” Came from science.
...
Ford stood and approached the fore railing between ops and the view screen. He looked over the battered, flaming hull of the alien ship. The enemy had set upon them with Lord knew what on their minds. But, Starfleet did not choose men to command their ships who were without mercy. If he could spare these aliens, he would. He glanced back over his shoulder.

Now, now Guv. The Federation never fires first. There could have been a bunch of reasons why the other ships could talk to each other but not the Endeavour. You're firing on them after hearing them close with shields up--in a plasma storm!
You're also ordering them about in non-aligned space. Maybe it's their space. Maybe you're the intruder.
If you'd ID'd the ships and knew them to be hostile, sure, warning shots with proxies. But lethal force on the first shot, when they haven't even targeted your ship? Bad Federation captain! Welcome to the Klingon Fleet! *grin*

Biggest TNG influence:
Quote
“Lateral sensor contact.”
...
“Indeterminate. However the tri-axial array does show an energy concentration at their bow section. Their deflectors are definitely up. Weapons range in one minute.”

The technobabble begins! Nooooooo!!!! *grin*
Just kidding, Guv. This is fine, it allows for the "professionalisation" of the science officer (no more "Space sensors detecting something, Captain!") but you haven't gone into "reconfiguring the dilithium matrix for enhanced  subspace sensor resolution so we can fire the big ray thingie from the glowing thing at the front end of the ship and beat them in this episode" mode.  ;D

See that you don't! *waves big lirpa at you menacingly*

All in all a very good story, but I think your Feds suffer for you being a Klingon at heart. *heh*

Keep this one coming, I'm eager for more.
"I'm just observing. You know, making observations."
"Great. We'll stick a telescope in your head and put a dome over it, and we can call you an observatory."
Paris and Rory, from "The Gilmore Girls."


Offline Commander La'ra

  • Lt. Commander
  • *
  • Posts: 2435
  • Gender: Male
Re: A new Story?
« Reply #22 on: February 23, 2006, 09:40:02 am »
Actually, I gotta say that there was ample justification for opening fire.  Two ships that're obviously communicating with either other, positioning themselves in a hostile manner with sensor data that supports the idea that their weapons are armed are approaching my ship but refuse to respond to verbal challenges or divert course away from me...

Remember, after all, the General Order Saavik quotes in ST II?  "Upon the approach of any vessel when communications have not been established..."
"Dialogue from a play, Hamlet to Horatio: 'There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy.' Dialogue from a play written long before men took to the sky. There are more things in heaven and earth, and in the sky, than perhaps can be dreamt of. And somewhere in between heaven, the sky, the earth, lies the Twilight Zone."
                                                                 ---------Rod Serling, The Last Flight

Offline Grim Reaper

  • The 4th Horseman, the Lord of Death
  • Lt.
  • *
  • Posts: 577
  • Gender: Male
  • Beyond the apocalypse
Re: A new Story?
« Reply #23 on: February 23, 2006, 09:40:51 am »
you are just baised ;)
Snickers@DND: If there is one straight answer in that bent little head of yours, you'd better start spillin' it pretty damn quick, or I'm gonna take a large, blunt object, roughly the size of Kallae AND his hat and shove it lengthwise up a crevice of your being so seldomly cleaned that even the denizens of the nine hells would not touch it with a 10-feet rusty pole

Offline Commander La'ra

  • Lt. Commander
  • *
  • Posts: 2435
  • Gender: Male
Re: A new Story?
« Reply #24 on: February 23, 2006, 09:45:17 am »
Why would you say that?*hides disruptor he was cleaning under newspaper*
"Dialogue from a play, Hamlet to Horatio: 'There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy.' Dialogue from a play written long before men took to the sky. There are more things in heaven and earth, and in the sky, than perhaps can be dreamt of. And somewhere in between heaven, the sky, the earth, lies the Twilight Zone."
                                                                 ---------Rod Serling, The Last Flight

Offline Jaeih t`Radaik

  • "I'm the unknown Commander, who makes the Empire look so good."
  • Lt. Junior Grade
  • *
  • Posts: 238
  • Gender: Female
  • Elements willing, we shall prevail!
    • Federation Starbase 23
Re: A new Story?
« Reply #25 on: February 23, 2006, 09:49:33 am »
That's just it, La'ra. no evidence. Shields up, yes, but no weapons until after Ford locks on his weapons. Admittedly, it is the most probable explanation for the actions of the ships, but remember the start of the Earth-Minbari war? Fancy hull materials and open gunports as a sign of respect on one side is taken by the other to be sensor-jamming and a ship at battlestations by the other.

The principle is, if you're the good guys, you are meant to wait until demostrably hostile intentions are given. The other ships could have been running from raiders themselves which is why weapons may have been armed and the shields up, and we never did find the ship ahead of the Endeavour.

Anyway, it's really not the huge deal I'm making of it, I just wanted to be clear. I suppose it depends on your definition of "demostrably hostile intentions," but the UFPs I'd think would be "do not fire unless fired upon", especially with ships that appear inferior tech.
"I'm just observing. You know, making observations."
"Great. We'll stick a telescope in your head and put a dome over it, and we can call you an observatory."
Paris and Rory, from "The Gilmore Girls."


Offline Grim Reaper

  • The 4th Horseman, the Lord of Death
  • Lt.
  • *
  • Posts: 577
  • Gender: Male
  • Beyond the apocalypse
Re: A new Story?
« Reply #26 on: February 23, 2006, 09:50:01 am »
never mind the disruptor look at that *points to viewscreen that shows the massive Negh'var awaiting La'ra's call*

+ Jaeih has a point imho
Snickers@DND: If there is one straight answer in that bent little head of yours, you'd better start spillin' it pretty damn quick, or I'm gonna take a large, blunt object, roughly the size of Kallae AND his hat and shove it lengthwise up a crevice of your being so seldomly cleaned that even the denizens of the nine hells would not touch it with a 10-feet rusty pole

Offline Commander La'ra

  • Lt. Commander
  • *
  • Posts: 2435
  • Gender: Male
Re: A new Story?
« Reply #27 on: February 23, 2006, 09:57:07 am »
never mind the disruptor look at that *points to viewscreen that shows the massive Negh'var awaiting La'ra's call*

+ Jaeih has a point imho

Oh them....never mind them...just here for the convention...yeah...

Of course she has a point, she's smart.  I just think I'd still have opened fire. ;D
"Dialogue from a play, Hamlet to Horatio: 'There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy.' Dialogue from a play written long before men took to the sky. There are more things in heaven and earth, and in the sky, than perhaps can be dreamt of. And somewhere in between heaven, the sky, the earth, lies the Twilight Zone."
                                                                 ---------Rod Serling, The Last Flight

Offline Governor Ronjar

  • Lt.
  • *
  • Posts: 830
  • Gender: Male
  • 'None Farther...'
Re: A new Story?
« Reply #28 on: February 24, 2006, 01:10:05 am »
For the record, Captain Ford's view:

"Unidentified vessels closing at superior speed in an area that BEGS for an ambush at speeds it would be dangerous to travel through said plasma storm. Vessels are communicating on detectable bandwidths, but like hails from my ship are being ignored. Vessels have their shields activated, not too odd, but this in conjunction with their comm activity and flight protocol smack of FORBODING DANGER. For all I know, these people are packing superior weaponry to my own, and I AM in their territory, which means they have inexhaustible back up where I have but one very expensive starship full of people who would very much like me to take them home ALIVE, not in nifty little plastic coffins. Their first shot may be all it takes to blow me up. I intend to live through this."

Like I said when I posted CH. 1, this departs from what you normally see on Star Trek. These guys mean to live till the next episode. And I don't know how many times in TOS Kirk locked weapons on an unidentified vessel that approached his ship. IE: The Melkot thingy from 'Spectre of the Gun' which I watched yesterday.

The differences in command styles are intentional. I will touch on them in a later chapter that is soon to be posted. In fact, a lot is gonna be different if you wait around...

I'm glad to see the altercation got such a rousing good conversation going! I was hoping it might. Jaeih has noted the main thing I wanted to BE different. Soooo many times did Archer/Kirk/Picard/Janeway/Sisco step their feet in the cow-pie while I sat on the couch saying "don't do that!". And they always paid for it. It was as though 200 years or more of manned space exploration had taught them NOTHING! Just because they're the 'good-guys', does not imply they must be stupid also. Making them thus is simply a poor and unimaginative adventure hook.

The line which you mentioned liking, Jaeih, about Ford being able to live with bringing the Klingons home, this is how I intended to show he was indeed the 'good-guy'.  :soap: :rant: :spam:

Wooo! Now that I'm off of that diatribe, and have explained what the more useless side of me forced me to... I add that I'm glad to see you enjoying my story, all of you, and espescially you Jaeih.

I'll post more laters on. I've already began my follow-up story, which leans into more Trek-ish territory than perhaps this one does. I'm using a race I haven't yet used and am enjoying the outcome thus far.

Please don't take any of the above as anything more than me ranting for the sake of ranting. I do so often!

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

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

Offline Governor Ronjar

  • Lt.
  • *
  • Posts: 830
  • Gender: Male
  • 'None Farther...'
Re: A new Story?
« Reply #29 on: February 27, 2006, 12:09:00 am »
CH. 5




“Open hailing frequencies.” Captain Ford called out to the comm officer. Mister Smith nodded with an “Aye, sir”, then hesitated. He looked frantically back to Ford.

“Uhm…sir…Do you want to…talk to them…yourself, that is?”

“Yes, Mister Smith, I want to talk to them myself. Put ‘em on screen if you can.”

“Aye, sir. Go ahead.”

Ford mentally cleared his throat.

“This is Captain Chevis Ford of the USS Endeavour. We represent the United Federation of Planets. I’m ordering your vessel to stand down its offensive systems. Respond, if you have the capacity.”

A short time passed as Lieutenant Smith worked with his controls. After a few long moments, the captain wondered if the lad was going to be able to raise anyone on the defeated ship. Finally, though, the viewer snapped on with an image of a hair-covered humanoid with a wide girth. The heavy alien had human-like eyes of a green color and flat teeth behind thick lips. It wore only a pair of bandoleers, likely for ammo, crossed about its chest and a pistol holster on its hip.

“I’m Prefan Lodus of the raider Cuunaan.” The alien said in a low, husky voice. A male, then, the captain decided. “How can I help you, Captain Chevis Ford?”

Ford effected a lop-sided smirk.

“Odd reply from someone who just tried to bushwhack my ship. “You can help me by killing your weapon systems. Otherwise, I’ll start killing them for you.”

The alien commander seemed to consider his options, then calmly shrugged. He nodded to someone off screen. Ford glanced back to his science officer. Surall nodded back. The bandit’s weapons were shut down. He looked back to the now smiling commander. “That’s better, Commander—“

“The title is Prefan, Captain. Translates as ‘rebel commander’ in our tongue.”

“I couldn’t care less, Prefan. We’re not trading pleasantries here. I’m going to cut my ship’s jamming long enough for you to send a message to the third ship that you have tucked away. You’ll order them to steer clear of my ship. Understood?”

“Crystal clear, my good Captain.”

“Flatter me and you’ll eat another phaser barrage, Prefan. You send that message.”

Ford motioned for his comm officer to suspend the long range signal jamming they’d been running. “Jamming secure,” responded Lieutenant Smith. The captain continued to glare holes through the alien commander. With another lazy-looking shrug, the Prefan turned to a member of his crew and began to speak in low tones. The translator circuit could not pick it up.

Finally, Prefan Lodus turned fully back to the screen. “I have ordered my final ship away, Captain. Is there more I can do for you?”

“Yes.” Ford answered. “You’re coming over here for a chat.”





The doors parted before the trio of beings and allowed them to enter the main briefing room. Captain Ford looked up from the data PADD he was perusing and eyed the shaggy alien male with aggravation. The bandit Prefan did not look nearly so smug now that he was aboard a hostile alien starship and surrounded by those he’d intended to victimize. Prefan Lodus had been stripped of his pistols and his bandoleers and several pieces of miscellaneous equipment, which was being analyzed by security. The expression in his bright eyes was one of quiet fear.

Flanking the alien commander was Mister Thomas and one of Security Chief Nechayev’s enlisted specialists. Both men bore phaser rifles. Neither treated the alien guest kindly, shoving him bodily through the entrance with the butts of their weapons. Lodus stumbled to the silver table and had to halt himself with both hands to prevent his fall. The alien showed a flash of rage as he glared up at Ford.

“Is this how you treat a visiting representative of an alien culture—“

“This is how I treat criminals, dickhead. This isn’t a damn state visit. I want information and your continued existence is dependent solely upon my whim. Therefor you’re going to answer each and every question I render you to the best of your ability.” Ford motioned to the tall, metallic chair which security had positioned at the farthest end of the table and looked up to Thomas. “Strap him in.”

“If this is torture—“ Lodus began to cry, his voice raising to high levels. Thomas laughed as he and the enlisted man gruffly handled the alien into the waiting chair.

“Not today, fuzzy-boy. Ain’t got the time.”

The two humans strapped the commander down into the chair and began to press lit controls on its control panels. Lodus looked from one to the other with evident fright on his face. His eyes focussed back on the captain.

“I operate only three ships, Captain Ford! I know little about the others in this area! If you’re hunting down the other bandit raiders—“

“We’re not at the moment, but we’ll be sure to look you up if we ever get around to it. No, I want to ask you about a planet near this plasma storm.” Ford paused for a measured amount of time and stared the alien captain down. Lodus remained wide-eyed, mouth agape. “For the record…what is your species known as?”

“Idari… Captain, what is this chair?”

Ford smiled with feigned reassurance.

“Nothing special, Prefan. Just a lil’ toy that’ll assured me that you’re telling the truth. Your bio readings from the transporter have been programmed in and will be compared to the data the chair’s sensors pick up as I question you.”

Lodus looked at the captain strangely. He did not seem to understand his treatment at the hands of the humans. One moment they battered him about, cursing him in ways that even their translators couldn’t relate to him, and then they refuse to torture him for what they wanted. He’d been treated both better, and much worse. But the Idari criminal did not want to press his luck. “I see.”
“Your name is Prefan Lodus?” Ford asked, beginning the procedure. Thomas watched the control remote in his meaty palm with intent. The alien commander looked about uncertainly and then nodded.

“Yes, Captain.”

“You say you are Idari?”

“Yes.”

“You attacked my ship with intent to harm or harass my crew?”

If the furry alien could have flushed, he would have right then. He looked nervously from side to side and then dropped his eyes to the deck. “We’re… pirates, after all, Captain.”

“Yes or no, Prefan.”

“Yes.”

Ford glanced at his first officer. Thomas nodded back. The truth finder was now tuned in to Lodus’s bio readings. The device should be at least eighty percent accurate to begin with, with its efficiency increasing as questioning went on. Ford returned the nod and went on.

“Prefan Lodus, do you know the prison planet in the Kovarn system?”

Lodus’s eyes narrowed.

“Kovarn Six? Yes, I know of it. Why?”

“Have you ever heard of a group of Klingon captives being held there?”
“Klingons… Who are they?”

Ford glanced at his XO. Thomas shook his head. The machine had given no indication that the Idari had lied. Ford went back to glaring at the Prefan. “You’ve heard of no alien captives on Kovarn who come from a warrior society?”

Lodus shrugged where he sat strapped in the tall chair.

“Oh, many, Captain. Various species claim to be warriors. Can you be more specific?”

Ford pressed a series of keys till a hovering holo of a Klingon male in IKF uniform appeared above the metallic tabletop. Lodus studied the image as it revolved before them all. Ford added detail the alien likely could not read from his perch.

“Klingons are a tall muscular race, most standing well over two-point-three meters in height. They are fast, impressively strong and have redundant sets of organs.”

“Sounds like a wonderful workforce.” The Prefan said back, sarcasm evident. He was beginning to return Ford’s glare. Ford ignored it.

“The leader of the group was known as Captain Dath’mar. Is any of this familiar to you?”

“No, Captain…” Acid was beginning to stir within the Idari’s voice. He tilted his head a bit. “What has any of this to do with me?”

It was Ford’s turn to shrug.

“You are familiar with this area and its societies. We aren’t. Simple as that. Maybe I can get some information from you that will help me get these Klingons back, and if so…maybe you’ll profit from it.”

“Profit,” Ford could tell the Prefan doubted his sincerity. “How?”

“You’ll come out ahead when we leave because I’ll only order you to eject your weapons coils rather than disabling all your vessels and leaving you to be found by who ever patrols this God-forsaken route. Sound good?”

Lodus sank in the chair as much as the restraints would allow him.
“Lovely, Captain, just lovely…”

“Good then, these Ya’wenn who run Kovarn. How liable are they to allow us to retrieve our Klingon…friends?” Ford watched the alien carefully for his reactions. Lodus seemed to froth a bit beneath his veneer, but still remained calm.

“How much money did you bring?”

“They would be interested in a trade of cash?”

“You can buy as many of their workers as you bring cash for. The better the worker and the better his health, the more they ask. How many of these Klingons are you looking to purchase?”

“We’re not buying anybody.”

“Liberate, then.”

“The crew of a Akif-Class starship is about three-fifty to three-ninety.”

“Then if they are as good of physical specimens as you say, then they’ll ask a great deal. Fifty thousand dak’tariates.”

“Have y’all ever dealt in gold-pressed latinum?”

“Occasionally. It would translate to…eight and a half blocks or better.”

Ford felt a little bit better about their chances of buying the Klingons’ freedom. Eight and a half was well within their bartering range. It was an exorbitant fee, but how much was a life worth? Ford certainly didn’t mind. It wasn’t his money. He glanced to his XO and the petty officer in his white shouldered enlisted uniform. Thomas seemed assured the truth finder was doing its job. Mister Daniels didn’t seem to care what so ever so long as the Prefan didn’t move a muscle.

“How well traveled is Kovarn?”

“At times, very. Others, not so much. Now is the time of their export shipments of bacinite ore. Their sky will be filled with transports and escorts from various neighboring leagues. There will also be increased piracy and raiding along the system perimeter.” Lodus chuckled as he considered something he didn’t share. “It would be an interesting time to visit, Captain. I envy you.”

“Why aren’t you there instead of raiding hapless vessels passing through the area?”

Lodus’s smile returned full force.
“It is how I make my living, Captain. Yours was a target too tempting to pass up. Its available cargo space alone made it worth my interest, and well worth passing up any of those bacinite transports…” Another shrug, “At least, if I had made the capture, that is.”

“Lucky for you that you didn’t beam in, dumbass!” Thomas chortled. “We really would’a kicked your hairy ass!”




Captain’s Log, Stardate: 9701.2

We have returned the Idari Prefan to his ship and destroyed the weapons they surrendered as terms of their surrender. I have allowed them to go with the warning to never attack a Federation starship again. I also advised them to seek…alternative employment. They’ll… probably become slavers or something.

We are resuming our coarse to the Kovarn System at best possible speed. Helmsman Bronstien is a proficient pilot and I wish I could have had him years ago. He makes Martinez look like a bus driver. We will exit the plasma storm in the next fifty-two minutes and then arrive at destination twenty-seven hours later at warp seven. I’m starting to like the new warp scale. Feels like old times…

I am reasonably confident that we will be able to retrieve the Klingons and bring them home. We’re still ahead of schedule, and I wish to remain so before the vessel we are supposed to deliver the prisoners to decides to get impatient and cross the Neutral Zone. I am expecting all manner of low life on Kovarn Six. Lodus’s very attitude suggested I wouldn’t like what I would find there.

End of Log.


***

Hope that was tolerable enough. The whole chapter was more or less a closer for the previous one and showed that Ford takes any chance to get info he can lay hands on. I have more on the way which I'm reviewing for continuity issues and such. My second story is coming along quite well, and I have finally trained myself in the spelling of course versus coarse... :o

I shall drop by again soon with more. Comment on!
'It's a lot of hard work being a mean bastard...' --Captain Eric Finlander, CO USS Bedford (The Bedford Incident)

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

Offline Commander La'ra

  • Lt. Commander
  • *
  • Posts: 2435
  • Gender: Male
Re: A new Story?
« Reply #30 on: February 27, 2006, 11:50:26 am »
I love it.

I do agree they're not acting like a typical Federation crew...but neither are they being so belligerent to seem like Klingons or Romulans to me.  Ford seems to know when aggressive bluster will get him more than peaceful handshakes, but he hasn't crossed the line into behavior I couldn't see Feddies doing.

And then there's this little bit...

Quote
“The leader of the group was known as Captain Dath’mar. Is any of this familiar to you?”

I knew he went out too easy. :rwoot:
"Dialogue from a play, Hamlet to Horatio: 'There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy.' Dialogue from a play written long before men took to the sky. There are more things in heaven and earth, and in the sky, than perhaps can be dreamt of. And somewhere in between heaven, the sky, the earth, lies the Twilight Zone."
                                                                 ---------Rod Serling, The Last Flight

Offline Grim Reaper

  • The 4th Horseman, the Lord of Death
  • Lt.
  • *
  • Posts: 577
  • Gender: Male
  • Beyond the apocalypse
Re: A new Story?
« Reply #31 on: March 01, 2006, 02:19:03 am »
You spin an interesting captain here m8. I've never been a holier than you zelous trekky from hell which says everything should confirm to his/her ideals for  a fed captain but you are going where no man has gone before imho. Me like. Gimme more.
Snickers@DND: If there is one straight answer in that bent little head of yours, you'd better start spillin' it pretty damn quick, or I'm gonna take a large, blunt object, roughly the size of Kallae AND his hat and shove it lengthwise up a crevice of your being so seldomly cleaned that even the denizens of the nine hells would not touch it with a 10-feet rusty pole

Offline Governor Ronjar

  • Lt.
  • *
  • Posts: 830
  • Gender: Male
  • 'None Farther...'
Re: A new Story?
« Reply #32 on: March 01, 2006, 10:23:11 pm »
You spin an interesting captain here m8. I've never been a holier than you zelous trekky from hell which says everything should confirm to his/her ideals for  a fed captain but you are going where no man has gone before imho. Me like. Gimme more.

I'm gratified. Anything specific?
'It's a lot of hard work being a mean bastard...' --Captain Eric Finlander, CO USS Bedford (The Bedford Incident)

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

Offline Grim Reaper

  • The 4th Horseman, the Lord of Death
  • Lt.
  • *
  • Posts: 577
  • Gender: Male
  • Beyond the apocalypse
Re: A new Story?
« Reply #33 on: March 03, 2006, 02:48:38 am »
mmm. Nothing what I can really bring into words, but it feels different.
Snickers@DND: If there is one straight answer in that bent little head of yours, you'd better start spillin' it pretty damn quick, or I'm gonna take a large, blunt object, roughly the size of Kallae AND his hat and shove it lengthwise up a crevice of your being so seldomly cleaned that even the denizens of the nine hells would not touch it with a 10-feet rusty pole

Offline Governor Ronjar

  • Lt.
  • *
  • Posts: 830
  • Gender: Male
  • 'None Farther...'
Re: A new Story?
« Reply #34 on: March 06, 2006, 06:51:51 pm »
Hello all! I R back. Another week, another chapter.

I enjoyed the comments above, and hope that this and future posts compell more of the same. Sometimes this is as close as I get to having friends over... So, enjoy!



CH. 6




“Now entering Kovarn System outer limits, Cap. Eleven minutes to orbital range.” Bronstien reported. Ford answered him and joined Mister Thomas near to the science station.

“Pre-approach scan, Miss Surall.”

“Aye, Captain.”

Lieutenant Surall leaned in close to her control board and pressed a waiting key. A long, slender viewing scope extended from the console face. Manipulating her keyboards without looking, she scrutinized the images the myriad of sensors and scanners overlaid atop each other in the scope.

“Multiple vessels and energy signatures in planetary orbit. Three high orbit cargo transfer stations, possibly seven mid-orbit fueling stations. There are definent defensive platforms in orbit, they read as…small, unmanned satellites, massing…three hundred metric tons. I am directing an intensive scan on the weapons array of the closest…”

Ford and Thomas waited in silence as the science officer did her job. The quiet, ever-present sounds of the bridge crept into their perception. The captain was beginning to count the pings of the chronometer when Surall finally came across with more intel. “Low yield fusion beam cannon tied directly into their main power reactors. Common technology, if a bit crude. They represent a moderate threat level, but their maneuverability is limited.”

“Evident technological centers on the surface?” Ford inquired.

“Scanning… Three large industrial centers, several notable mining sites. All centers are arranged near a spinal mountain chain extending from the northern tip of the main continent to the eastern edge of a large forested region. The central most facility bears landing platforms for up to mid-size transports. Roads interlink the other centers to it.”

A topographical map of the area under scrutiny appeared on the upper main readout above Surall’s scope. Ford looked the terrain over with the eye of a military commander. He noted areas where defenses would likely be hidden among surface features. He spotted several areas that would likely be impossible to fight in if the worst were to happen. His was the duty to take advantage of all his own advantages and use them to negate the opposition’s capacity to derail his mission. Sharp felt it imperative these Klingons be returned to their Empire to show the Federation’s willingness to further the peace initiative. Ford was not going to fail his former captain.

“We’ll beam down three groups—“ The captain began, but was cut off as a dark skinned hand projected into view. Surall faced him.
“Transporter function will not be possible, Captain. The prison and all of the main continent is covered by an electromagnetic barrier.”
“We could knock the barrier out with a few phaser blasts.” Ben suggested.

“Sharp didn’t want us to start a war with anyone we don’t even know yet. We won’t employ weapons till we have to.” He mentally adjusted his operational plans. “We’ll go in with three shuttles, then. Mister Thomas, you and me will go down in a Type J with a full security party. Two Type L personnel shuttles will fly escort with a full security team each. Security will equip for hostile terrain. Accompanying us in the Type J will be Lieutenants Bronstien and Smith, and we’ll equip with light gear.”

“Weaponry, Cap’n?” Thomas asked. He didn’t want to go down naked.

“Pistols only. No rifles for us. We’ll want to look somewhat reasonable when we meet with whoever runs this place. Hard to do that with rifles in hand.”

Thomas didn’t look convinced, but did not argue. Ford looked past the XO to the inner ring of stations. “Mister Davenport will have the conn.”

“Nearing inner system, Cap.” Helm called.

“Reduce to full impulse.” Ford headed for his command chair. Taking a seat as Thomas conferred with the chief of security, the captain turned toward the comm station. “Mister Smith, hail the prison facility.”

“Aye, sir. Hailing them now.”

“We’ve got somebody’s attention, Cap.” Bronstien commented from his helm console. Ford flicked his eyes from the pilot to the forward viewer. The growing image of the little, brown colored world in the center of the screen suddenly grew in stature as the lieutenant zoomed in on the northern hemisphere. Dozens of orbiting craft were turning away from their previous paths and were beginning to move in on their visitor. Captain Ford knew few of the ships viewed, but several of them possessed noticeable weapon ports. Barrels were turning the Endeavour’s direction and others were already beginning to glow.

Any one of these ships, Ford counted six so far, was not likely to be a match for his ship, but the captain did not want to tangle with any of them. They weren’t here to make enemies of these people. Getting into an orbital starship battle was not going to help their relations on the surface.

“Slow to one-quarter impulse. Yellow Alert.” Ford decided.

“Shields coming up, Keptin.”

As the lighting changed overhead and the alarm sounded, the captain held his breath slightly. The sensation was akin to waiting on a girl’s answer for a first date. Would everything turn out good…or bad? The half dozen vessels eased in closer, assuming as they approached a definite attack posture, their heaviest ship in the lead center of a ‘v’ formation. Backs began to stiffen all about the bridge as the officers manning their stations tensed for what was about to happen.

“I read a wide variety of weaponry aboard the approaching vessels, Captain,” Surall offered unbidden from science. “The most dangerous craft is likely the lead ship, which bears ten accelerated plasma cannon and nuclear torpedoes.”

“Nukes,” Thomas muttered, “…great…”

“Set phaser banks 2, 3, 4, 11 and 12 for point defense and stand by.” Ford ordered his weapons officer. And still the waiting continued. The approaching ships seemed to slow. Was this a good sign?

“Closing wessels are drawing to a halt, Keptin. They are outside standard torpedo range.” Lieutenant Nechayev leaned close over his console, hands braced on either side of his panel.

“Steady as she goes.” Ford was not willing to yield too much. He would approach from a position of strength, which meant not halting or backing down from their weaponry. He would act as though their show of force didn’t concern him.

“Range four million kilometers, Cap.” Bronstien reported. The young man’s eyes were glued to the indicators covering his panel. His hands remained poised over the RCS system.

“Sir,” called out Lieutenant Smith, turning in his seat at whiplash speed. “We’ve got an answering hail.”

“On screen.” Ford was relieved, and hoped it didn’t show too greatly.

The image of the halted defense ships was replaced by the visage of a large, muscle bound mountain of a man standing behind a desk cluttered with junk and data modules. The alien had oily looking skin of a grey-ish color and short black hair. His face bore whiskers unshaven for more than three days and the expression he wore was a mixture of indifference and displeasure that told Ford he didn’t want to deal with whatever the unidentified ship presented. Chevis had worked with many similar folks during his career. These he knew he could work with. They would do whatever they could do to get the visitors to just go away and do so quickly. And they were always looking for ways to profit without having to work for it. This made them dangerous, but predicable.

“Who are you?” The large alien asked as he sat lazily into his office chair and took a long drink of whatever he was carrying.

Ford would normally stand when addressing an alien representative, but would not do so today. Standing would only show this man more respect than he himself had shown Ford. Still seated, he inclined his head to the man on the viewer. “I’m Captain Ford of the Federation starship Endeavour. I represent the government of the United Federation of Planets which lies beyond the plasma string phenomena several light-years back.”

Ford could see that the large man still did not care much. He shifted in his seat and looked more interested in the drink in his meaty hand. Finally he looked back up to the screen.

“And what does your Federation of Planets want here?”

Ford did not answer straight away. He remained silent and forced a small, half smile on his face. “I might tell you once I have your name, sir. You have me at a disadvantage.”

The alien returned the smile. It looked more disgusting on the near-human face.

“More than you know, Captain. But if it makes you feel any better, I am Over Warden Jarn. I run this place for the Ya’wenn Government. What has your government sent you here for? Are you here to buy metals?”

“Maybe in the future…” Now Ford stood and approached the visual pickup. “We’ve been ordered here to negotiate the release of a group of your…workers…to our custody for return to their home planet.”

Jarn seemed absolutely unfazed by the request. It seemed that he bought and sold prisoners on a daily basis, and likely did. He pursed his bottom lip in a manner that showed slight interest. “What specific group, Captain?”

“A group of Klingon warriors.”

Jarn paused a moment. He wasn’t the consummate actor.

“Klingons…good workers those Klingons.” He said, his voice so gravelly that it sounded as though he’d suffered some throat damage in his sordid past. “They’ll cost you plenty, Captain Ford. But I don’t talk money with a ship in orbit. You have landing ships?”

“We carry shuttles.”

“Well, then, bring your cash and a minimal group of men down to the coordinates we’ll send you. I don’t allow matter teleporters on my planet. Too much danger of things going missing, you understand.”

“I figured as much. We’ll make orbit in ten minutes and see you after that.”

“Very well, Captain. My ships will let you pass.”

The viewer shed the link to the Over Warden and returned to the view of the planet and escorting ships. The six little starships were turning to match Endeavour’s flight path, though their weapons remained powered. Behind the conn, Lieutenant Nechayev continued scanning their escorts for defensive weaknesses. Ford heard him working and felt all the safer for it. Commander Thomas gave the captain a sideways glance.

“We’re not really taking the money with us, are we?”

“Hell no. We’ll bluff ‘em on the money, bring it down when we have the prisoners. There’s something not right down there, though.” Ford paused in recollection. “He hesitated when I mentioned the Klingons. They might not even be down there. Or they might be dead and buried. Whatever is wrong, he isn’t going to play straight with us, and we’re going to have to be careful.”
Ford patted Bronstien on the shoulder.

“Assume standard orbit, helm. Then get down to Shuttle Bay One. I want my best pilot on the main shuttle incase we have to hotfoot it out of there.” He looked left to the Ops position. “Ron, you have the conn.”

“Aye, Cap’n.”

Davenport stood and made for the center seat. A replacement NCO took Ops as the captain headed for the after lifts. “Mister Nechayev, ready another shuttle and appropriate security forces for the latinum should we need it. And map out the location of the field generators just in case we need to eliminate them.”

“Yes, Keptin.”

“XO, Comm, y’all are with me.”





“This isn’t the way we do things, Captain…” Ford turned to the sound of the voice behind him. Lieutenant Smith stood at the foot of the personnel shuttle’s boarding ramp, phaser pistol in hand and question upon his face. Chevy gave the boy half a smirk and faced him fully as he pulled the slim, light field jacket over his shoulders. The kid’s eyes focussed for a second on the shiny gold Captain pins on the jacket’s shoulder and arm. Most of his resolve drained from him.

“Something to say, Comm?”

“Well, Captain…” Ford could tell the young officer now wished he’d never spoken up. He shuffled foot to foot, glancing away uncertainly. Commander Thomas thumped up the ramp, passing the boy and slapping him painfully hard on the back. Thomas’s face bore a cruelly sardonic expression as he passed by Chevis. Ford pretended to ignore him. The boy stammered a bit more.

“Well, this isn’t how we were trained at the Academy. I mean, we weren’t trained to negotiate from behind armed phasers.”

“That’s right, Lieutenant. You weren’t trained like this. You were trained in a cozy little simulated environment, negotiating against instructors skilled in playing a role. No one was pointing a weapon at you. No one was looking for a way to screw you and take advantage of all your weaknesses. No one wanted what you had. Right now though,” Chevy smiled a bit, hefting the weight of his own grey-blue phaser pistol, “We’re going to operate on a planet where all of those instances might be true. We have to get our job done, return a former enemy home, and do all that while still protecting our asses. Do you have any idea how many times Captain Archer of the NX-01 was captured in his ten years of command?”

Smith seemed taken aback. This might not be the butt-chewing he’d expected for questioning his captain, but he knew now that Ford wouldn’t tolerate much in the way of scrutiny. Chevis Ford played things his way. “No…uh, no, sir.”

“Fifty times. Some of those were re-captures! Him and his engineer were notorious for getting nabbed. Ever read Captain James Kirk’s history? Not counting the recent Klingon trial where he was arrested, he, Spock and Doctor McCoy were captured times uncountable. Now…any idea how many times Admiral Sharp was captured during his years in command?”

Only a questioning look came back in answer. Ford held up a solitary finger.

“Just once. One time, by Commander La’ra of the Hiv’laposh. Who’s school of thought do we want to emulate?”

“Sharp’s, sir?”

“Damn right! Get aboard.”

Lieutenant Smith stepped quickly past his CO. He was probably very glad to be out of the captain’s sight. Ford, however, stepped back down the ramp and examined the polymer casing of his Type-Two pistol. He did indeed wish for easier ways to get things done. But, often, a good solid weapon was the only tool one could count on. Maybe things would be different for the next generation of Starfleet, but today, one had to remain realistic.

Ford glanced about the cavernous main shuttle bay. Closest by his own craft were two other vessels, filled with security men and rifles. Further away was another cargo shuttle being prepped for launch when the captain called for it. Chevy proclaimed to be no genius, but did everything within his power to protect his ship and crew. He just hoped none of this would be necessary.
Far across the steel and white colored bay, the final officer he awaited emerged from the after turbolift. He came on at a trot, holstering his own phaser and sliding on a field jacket. Ford greeted Mister Bronstien as he neared the ramp. “Ready for a short trip, helmsman?”

“Aye, Cap.” The youth said with a wide grin. His short-cropped black hair made the lad look even younger than he acted. Such children made the captain feel old. Ford motioned the boy to the cockpit and holstered his own phaser.

“Let’s go, kids.” He murmured as he closed the aft hatch.

***

Anyway, that's ch. 6.  :spam:

I actually was thinking of how more traditional Starfleet types might regard how Ford carries on. This is why I made Smith such a young kid fresh from the Academy. He gets to be the moral sounding board for all the differences between my Trek and real Trek. There is at least one more such instance within the story where he questions what he's seeing. You might even see Ford brought to task over it in future stories.

Till them, read on and enjoy if possible.
--thu guv'!
'It's a lot of hard work being a mean bastard...' --Captain Eric Finlander, CO USS Bedford (The Bedford Incident)

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

Offline Scottish Andy

  • First Officer of the Good Ship Kusanagi
  • Lt. Commander
  • *
  • Posts: 1086
  • Gender: Male
  • New and improved.
    • Starbase 23
Re: A new Story?
« Reply #35 on: March 07, 2006, 11:14:24 pm »
Good Chapter, Ronjar! I loved the point about Archer and Kirk being captured so many times. Ties in neatly with your posture on a previous post (the cow pie one). I'm liking the bad guys, and Ford's attitude to them and life in general.

Want more! Giving me ideas for my own stories!
Come visit me at:  www.Starbase23.net

The Senior Service rocks! Rule, Britannia!

The Doctor: "Must be a spatio-temporal hyperlink."
Mickey: "Wot's that?"
The Doctor: "No idea. Just made it up. Didn't want to say 'Magic Door'."
- Doctor Who: The Woman in the Fireplace (S02E04)

2288

Offline Jaeih t`Radaik

  • "I'm the unknown Commander, who makes the Empire look so good."
  • Lt. Junior Grade
  • *
  • Posts: 238
  • Gender: Female
  • Elements willing, we shall prevail!
    • Federation Starbase 23
Re: A new Story?
« Reply #36 on: March 09, 2006, 08:54:33 am »
                        ^
I agree with him  |
"I'm just observing. You know, making observations."
"Great. We'll stick a telescope in your head and put a dome over it, and we can call you an observatory."
Paris and Rory, from "The Gilmore Girls."


Offline Grim Reaper

  • The 4th Horseman, the Lord of Death
  • Lt.
  • *
  • Posts: 577
  • Gender: Male
  • Beyond the apocalypse
Re: A new Story?
« Reply #37 on: March 09, 2006, 08:59:08 am »
Good Chapter, Ronjar! I loved the point about Archer and Kirk being captured so many times.

agree

Quote
and Ford's attitude to them and life in general.

agree

However, i need to see more of the baddies to really say I like them. What I do like is the first impression.
Snickers@DND: If there is one straight answer in that bent little head of yours, you'd better start spillin' it pretty damn quick, or I'm gonna take a large, blunt object, roughly the size of Kallae AND his hat and shove it lengthwise up a crevice of your being so seldomly cleaned that even the denizens of the nine hells would not touch it with a 10-feet rusty pole

Offline Governor Ronjar

  • Lt.
  • *
  • Posts: 830
  • Gender: Male
  • 'None Farther...'
Re: A new Story?
« Reply #38 on: March 15, 2006, 11:40:00 pm »

Here's you a lil' more than a first impression on the badguys. I originally had a longer scene, but it dragged down the pace of the story. Anyway, enjoy...

CH. 7




The forward, starboard facing door of the main shuttle bay droned slowly open to allow the trio of shuttlecraft to exit into open space. Each of the tiny reserve ships emerged from within the structure of the larger vessel’s thick neck and held position before the Endeavour to wait for the others. Once gathered; the smaller escort shuttles flanking behind the single, large cargo shuttle; they slowly descended toward the surface of the rocky little world.

Commander Thomas held solidly to either side of the ops section of the pilot console as he watched the insertion intelligence scroll automatically across his readouts. “Lower atmosphere thirty-percent oxygen, thirty percent nitrogen…the rest a bunch of trace elements. Computer says its breathable, but I figure its gonna stink. Gravity reads as one point two Earth standard.”

“A lot of heavy metals in the core, then.” The Captain commented. For such a small planet to have gravity even greater than Earth meant it was made of some dense material. Ford resisted the urge to order his men to set their equipment accordingly. Twenty years ago, personnel equipment had to be hand adjusted for environmental differences such as gravity, EM fields and terrestrial gasses. These days, however, they equipment they carried was built to adjust itself automatically. Everything from their phasers to their universal translators had some kind of a chip or module meant to set it to operate more efficiently in whatever environment it found itself. Progress.

“Touchdown in three, Cap.” Mister Bronstien reported. The kid’s hands moved across his controls with fluid skill. The cargo shuttle they rode in barely wobbled during the entire entry. He was good. Clouds were parting themselves before the main view port as the shuttle forged its way to the waiting ground.

The captain glanced at the helmeted faces of the waiting security grunts sharing the cargo bay with him. Each sat with his or her rifle held beside their knee and stared back at their CO. The captain gave them an appraising nod. “Your primary role on the surface is to act as guards for this shuttle. I will imply to the Over Warden that we have the latinum on board. Your real purpose, aside from guarding the dummy load, is to act as a backup force should the negotiating team get into trouble. Hopefully, our talks with these people won’t take us too far from the landing sight. If it does, attempt two-man beams ins with the emergency transporter array. Hopefully, it’ll work fine beneath the security field. If not, make your way in the best you can, and call for back up from the reserve units as needed. Understood?”

“Aye, aye, sir!”

“I’m reading a lot of guards gathered around the landing site, Cap’n.” Thomas called back to the cargo area. “Armed with focused particle rifles and well armored. They ain’t slouches.”

Ford looked back to the security team, then to his comm officer. “You heard the XO. Set your rifles to heavy stun to begin with, but jack it up to high disruption if any heavy shooting starts. Mister Smith, check your pistol setting and make sure its locked on level two.”

The officer nodded back without speaking and drew the pistol to check it. Ford noticed with some relief that his finger came nowhere near the trigger as he examined his weapon. He’d served with seasoned comm officers, with ten years experience or better, who did not know the first thing about weapon safety. No Starfleet issue weapon in history had ever been built with a trigger guard, and probably never would be. It was good to know this kid wouldn’t likely blow his CO’s head off on accident.
Satisfied with what his indicators showed him, Mister Smith replaced the weapon in his hip holster. The boy still seemed worried, but the captain thought it pretty normal. This was his first shore duty since exiting the Academy. And worse, he had an unorthodox skipper. It was enough to make any kid nervous.

“Lining up for touchdown!” Bronstien informed. Beside him, Thomas was pointing out the view port at some area below them.

“Set ‘er down with the side door facing the main complex. We don’t want them getting a good look at our empty cargo module.”

“Aye.” The pilot answered. Most of the kid’s concentration was on committing the landing with a powerful side-wind blowing in. Ford held onto an overhead safety strap for support as the landing pads thudded onto a solid surface. The anitgravs cycled through their wind-down and their noise faded into the background. Ford arose with his men and made for the port exit. Two grunts, a blonde human woman and a green skinned Axanari male, took forward flanking positions before their commander and opened the hatch. Beside the captain, another grunt scanned the immediate area with a combat tricorder and pronounced it safe with a curt nod.

“Let’s go.” Chevy ordered. His men filed out, two before him, the rest behind. The security force encircled the officers, creating what, in macabre humor, they called a meat shield around their charges. Two men remained behind to guard the still open hatch to the shuttlecraft. Above them, and still circling the complex and the landing platform, were the two backup shuttles.

The platform about the Starfleet visitors was of a common type. Heavy, polymer laced earthen materials formed the sturdy tarmac surface where vessels set down. It was stained black against the lighter painted markings meant to help pilots align their approach and smelled of a thick petroleum compound. Drab, old steel and concrete structures lined the perimeter of the landing zone and supplied it with various services. The captain and crew could make out warehouses for holding materials, fueling stations, and round topped buildings that resembled old military barracks on Earth. The main structure lay directly ahead of the group, and rose high above them. It led into the main processing station and was also built into the stone of a giant, craggy peaked mountain. Behind them, and past the shuttle, dense jungle pressed up close to the edge of the landing platform. The tops of huge, swaying trees came up almost level to the ‘ground’ of the tarmac they walked on.

Emerging ahead of the team, a group of resident aliens led by Over Warden Jarn walked purposefully their way. As the heavy door reeled back down behind them, Chevis found himself hiding a smirk.

“Everybody walks a little bit faster when money or guns are involved,” he muttered to his XO.

“Yeah,” Thomas agreed, his eyes measuring the faces before them all. “And they practically run when both are involved.”

“Captain Ford!” Jarn was shouting. The tall alien pointed up toward one of the Starfleet craft lazily circling above. “I ordered you come with a small group!”

Ford waved his men to a halt. His forward most grunts raised their rifles across their chest armor.

“I have come with a small group, Over Warden. You didn’t expect me to bring an enormous load of gold-pressed latinum without adequate escort?”

“You defied my instructions! You bring a veritable army to besiege my installation!”

“If my paltry force is all I would need to lay siege to anything on your planet, then you need better trained men, Mister Jarn.” Ford looked at the Warden rather pointedly. “Surely my little unit isn’t going to…usurp your estimable power here?”

Jarn’s jaw worked as his teeth ground.
“Not likely, Captain.”

“Then why quibble? We’re here to discuss a transaction, and I am secure that my cargo is in safe hands. You are also secure that your installation is secure…”

Jarn looked the waiting shuttle over with distaste. This was little more than a primal strutting contest, now. Jarn’s pride had been injured. The Warden glowered back onto the human. “You violated my orders.”

Ford bobbed his brows in feigned disappointment.
“Well, I don’t take orders from you. I’m here at the behest of my government to deal with you…but if you aren’t interested in latinum…” Chevy half turned as if to leave. Many among his party did likewise. This cracked Jarn’s resolve.

“You wouldn’t be here if I weren’t interested, Captain. You may enter, but your soldiers will remain with your vessel!”
Ford felt the concession to be reasonable under the circumstances. He hadn’t expected to get them into the complex, but at least they would be nearby. He nodded back to the Over Warden. “Fair enough.”

The NCO nearest to the captain turned on his heel and directed his men back to the shuttlecraft. Thomas took the lead to the group with Smith beside Ford and Bronstien in the rear. If only the Warden had realized what kind of a tank he was allowing to walk through his front door, he might have ordered Mister Thomas to remain behind as well. Ford felt reasonably safe under the big man’s protection.

The sights that greeted the Federation party upon passing through the loading doors of the main complex were relatively similar to what they had experienced of other mining establishments. Smelters, cracking devices, ore movers and sensor devices of varied designs filled chamber after chamber. Workers culled from many a world filled the rooms, spaces and catwalks above. The noise of all the work was deafening. Shouts and mechanized signals competed for supremacy amid a cacophony of unidentifiable sounds. Ford wished his field jacket had been equipped with ear mufflers.

Jarn gave no pretext of offering a guided tour of any kind. He said nothing as he stalked along, leading them deep into the recesses of the enormous installation. But Ford looked around just the same. Like everyone else in his party, he was looking for Klingons. None could be seen, but these were all low security jobs. Few guards abound, and Klingons would have to be under heavy, constant guard.

“No Klingon biosigns within one hundred meters, Captain.” Smith reported. Chevy looked to the kid beside him and noticed for the first time that he’d been scanning with his tricorder. It was a good bit of initiative on his part, but something their hosts might object to. Saying nothing, Ford nodded and pushed the boy’s scanner back out of sight and closed its top.

They arrived at a flat wall built of concrete and inset with a multitude of doors. Jarn leered back at the bunch and keyed open the closest door, leading them inside. The Starfleet crew followed, with the Warden’s bunch coming in behind.

Within this new section was a sight completely different. A veritable cathouse of scantily dressed humanoids caroused around a wide and spacious room decorated in every manner of decadence known to this sector. Expensive wall tapestries adorned a formerly polished marble floor. Statues of unparalleled skill stood sentry all about the area amid levels of stairs and raised platforms. Women of several species danced in slow, lusty and sinuous fashion, some on poles, and others from chains hanging from the high ceiling. Beings lounged on over stuffed, luxurious pieces of imported furniture and many lay about the lushly carpeted floors in orgy-like masses. The amount of drugs and alcohol one could smell alone within this room led Ford and Thomas to know how Jarn ran things here. He was certainly no warden of any justice system. He was a criminal making a huge profit in a variety of fields. Much of his garnered wealth likely had been founded upon the shoulders of those he worked to the bone.

Jarn did not pause amid any of the wonders moving about the room, but instead led the Feds on a climb through it all. They ascended level upon level of hedonism till at last reaching what one could at least pretend was an official area reserved for business. Guards bearing nasty looking weapons lined the wall, and for the first time in over twenty minutes, Ford could see daylight again. Jarn opened another door, this one a simple wooden design with a turning knob, and led them into the office he’d been in when they’d hailed. A nude female of the Warden’s species lay draped across a black leather couch against the right wall, and two more guards stood at either side of the inner entrance. Jarn made right for a table full of liquid filled decanters to the left and began to pour a drink of red fluid.

“A drink, Captain? You or your men?” The alien’s gravelly voice boomed.

“Not till the deal is done, Over Warden.”

Jarn looked back at the captain with humor in his eyes and a touch of respect on his face.

“Like to keep a crisp eye on what’s going on around you, Captain? Not a bad method. Thankfully, alcohol has little effect of Ya’wenn physiology.” He held up a tall glass of the stuff. “Cheers!”

Downing the bloody brew, the giant lumbered to his chair and sat.

“Alright, Captain, let’s deal. You want a bunch of smelly, violent Klingons.”

Ford felt a bit relieved. At least the Warden had seen a Klingon before.

“Indeed.”

“What the hirruul for, Captain? You have any idea how poor of workers they are?”

Ford approached the desk, lacing his fingers before him almost like a priest.

“I don’t personally want them. But their government wants them home. My government offered to get them there.”

“Are you their servants?”

“Nope. But they would have to cross our territory to get here, and we don’t want that.”

“Why, Captain?” Jarn had the twinkle of pleasure in his eye. “Do you fear them? I know that Klingons are violent, but does their military—“

“I’m not here to deliver you intel, Jarn. How many Klingons were brought to you?”

Jarn paused, looking away to amuse himself by making Ford wait. Chevy continued to stare at him without blinking. Finally the alien returned the glare. “If I recall, I bought over a hundred of those grimy bastards nearly a decade ago…”

“And their leader?”

“Leader?”

“Surely you found out their names.”

Jarn stared in silence, then… “Dath’mar, I believe.”

Ford felt vindicated. Perhaps all this wasn’t going to be a waste of time. He knew the name of the Klingon leader, and there was no way he could have gotten it without having had them here. Hopefully they still remained here. “Any how many remain?”

Jarn shrugged.

“How should I know?”

“You have a prisoner count, don’t you?”

“Oh, yes, Captain. But you won’t find them on one presently.” Jarn was again smiling. It wasn’t a pretty visage. His hand grasped the empty glass on his desk as though it was some child he was taking pleasure in strangling. “You see, Captain Ford, they escaped six months after they were brought here. They’ve been raiding and attacking my operation for years! I would almost pay you to take them away!”

Jarn held up a scarred and bent finger.

“Almost,” he repeated. “But you’re going to need my intel and assistance to capture these Klingons if you hope to take them anywhere. And that…is going to cost you.”

Ford glowered at the man, his forehead furrowing in displeasure.

“Oh, really? Pay you for the privilege of tracking them down myself? Why would I do that?”

“Because if you don’t, Captain, the ships in orbit with you will force you to withdraw. And you’ll have nothing. Save for a blemish on your service record.” Jarn looked overly pleased with himself. He reclined in the seat he occupied and toyed with his glass. Chevis wanted to ram it down his smug throat.

“In the end, it doesn’t matter much,” the captain said instead. “But I won’t pay nearly as much if I have to hunt them myself. How much cash is required for the right to track them and get your intel?”

“Ten blocks gold pressed latinum!”

Ford was stunned by such a close guess. It was grossly over-priced, but at least the Warden hadn’t asked for more than they’d been issued. Latinum could not be synthesized in any way. It was mined and encapsulated into golden containers to be used as money.

There would be no way of acquiring more.

The captain scoffed.

“Ten blocks! You’re full of sh*t, jailer-boy! You’d be lucky to get three!”

Jarn stood in self-generated rage. His gnarled finger jabbed at Ford’s chest. The captain had long ago made a habit of not standing within jabbing distance of anyone he didn’t like.

“You’re damn lucky I’m even talking to you for ten blocks!” The Warden thundered, spittle flinging. “You’ll pay ten or leave.”

“You will take four or you can keep the war-mongering Klingons for yourself!” Ford countered. “Let them wreck your installation. It’ll cost you more than any blemish on my record might.”

Jarn paused a second.

“Eight!”

Ford grinned. This was how negotiations really started. Haggling prices.

“Five.”

“Seven, and not a slip less!” Again the finger pointed.

“Six and a deal.”

Jarn looked ready to argue further. But at last, sensing the captain’s readiness to walk out of the room and go home, he nodded. “Six, then, Captain. Well done.” The big man straightened. “I’ll get you that drink now.”

Ford nodded and watched the alien lumber that way. Chevis shared a glance at Mister Thomas, who was suppressing a small grin at the spectacle. He grew almost giddy when the captain yelled. It happened so little. Jarn returned with a drink both Ford and himself. They raised the glasses together. The warden drained his in a few deep drafts; Ford sipped his. It was stiff, but honey sweet. It’d be easy to get looped on this stuff.

“I’ll be sending my men to acquire payment. I assume the cash is on that larger shuttle out there?”

“You’ll get half now, then half before we leave with the prisoners.” Ford returned. “And no, it isn’t. I’m not stupid enough to come to an unknown planet, looking for people I still don’t know are even here with a ton of currency I can’t defend for any length of time.”

Jarn grunted a laugh to show his agreement. “I wouldn’t trust me either, Captain. I think we may do further business in the future.

Do you like dancing women?”

***

I had a very specific actor in mind when I wrote Jarn. I found him entertaining. I don't know the actor's name, but he played a rebel on Enterprise...

Tell me what y'all think.
--thu guv'!!
'It's a lot of hard work being a mean bastard...' --Captain Eric Finlander, CO USS Bedford (The Bedford Incident)

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

Offline Jaeih t`Radaik

  • "I'm the unknown Commander, who makes the Empire look so good."
  • Lt. Junior Grade
  • *
  • Posts: 238
  • Gender: Female
  • Elements willing, we shall prevail!
    • Federation Starbase 23
Re: A new Story?
« Reply #39 on: March 16, 2006, 07:57:52 am »
Great continuation, Guv! I love Ford's assessment and haggling with the warden. Great scene, keep it coming!
"I'm just observing. You know, making observations."
"Great. We'll stick a telescope in your head and put a dome over it, and we can call you an observatory."
Paris and Rory, from "The Gilmore Girls."