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[Governor Ronjar]

I'd intended to get this one up alot sooner, but I actually just forgot to. Sorry.
Anywho... Hope Y'all like this as much as #1. I don't know how it stacks against 'Brave New World', but at the very least maybe it'll give more character insight on my cast.

So...

Star Trek
No Good Deed…
CH. 1




Captain’s Log, Stardate: 9702.6

Endeavour is nearing the end of her second week mapping and cataloguing the outer membrane of the plasma string region of Sector KL-115. I wasn’t too impressed with Command’s orders to remain in this area for exploratory and mapping duties…not originally. But I’ve never had a happier science officer than Lieutenant Surall has been these last few days. Her analysis of the stellar gasses in the region alone is worth some merit in itself. She’s localized at least one new element and possibly an undiscovered compound. She’s taken direct command of astrometrics and has the engineering staff working over time enhancing sensor clarity.
On the tactical front, we’ve detected no trace of Ya’wenn vessels in the last two days. If they’re still looking for us over the Kovarn prison thing, then they must be off on the wrong scent. The last ship sighted was little more than a cutter in size and we were well outside her sensor range.

We’ll continue our mapping detail for another three days, providing the Ya’wenn stay gone, and afterward will probe further into the gravimetric phenomena near the denser center of the region.

End of Log.


Captain Chevis D. Ford handed the log recorder over to his yeoman and nodded at the muscular, black skinned man. The yeoman,  Petty Officer Devon Gossport, was a giant. He practically bulged out of the white-shouldered enlisted uniform and had hands so wide he could probably pick his bald captain up by the top of his head.

“Hold up there, Mister Gossport. You ever wrestle in college?”

Devon returned his captain’s smile. He’d been wondering over the scrutiny.

“No, Captain. My sports were rugby and American football.” Understanding flooded into his angular face. “Are you still looking for try-outs for the ship’s wrestling team?”

“Yup. Mister Thomas says he’s too old and fat to rassle anymore, so I need a new star team member.” Ford glanced humorously over to his executive officer who lounged of the ready room’s sofa. Ben flipped his commanding officer the bird, out of the eyesight of the noncom. Ford ignored him and looked back up at the hulking form before his desk.

Devon shrugged.
“I’ve never wrestled in any kind of match.”

“We’ll have plenty of time for training before we ever get back to the command bases. Mister Thomas is a hellova teacher. He won Fleet Championship once in ’79. Against a Vulcan!”

Devon looked back with admiration at the XO.

“I know the XO’s record on the mat. Forty-two wins, seven defeats, two draws,” there was a toothy smile, “and one knock-out.”

That last got a wry expression for Thomas.

“The ref’ had it coming. If it wasn’t for the fast three count, my record would read 43-6 and 2.”

Devon laughed a bit and looked back to his captain. “Sure thing, Skipper. I’ll shoot for the team.”

“Excellent. We’ll try and set aside time for next week. That’ll be all.”

Gossport exited the captain’s office, recorder in hand. Meanwhile, Thomas grunted his way out of his seat and joined Ford at the desk. He handed over a data PADD. “Final repair report on that hit we took from the defense satellite. The final inner hull member has been welded and replaced. We’re back up to a hundred percent integrity in that area.”

Ford reviewed the report from engineering and pressed a thumb to its scanner.

“Didn’t take ‘em very long. That hit went pretty deep into the impulse deck. We’re lucky their targeting scanners aren’t more advanced.” He commented. Ben nodded agreement.

“They could’ve took out the auxiliary reactors or even destroyed a nacelle rather than synthesizer equipment. So, how long are we gonna be here haunting this burning cloud?”

Ford grinned back at his friend.

“Don’t like exploration?”

A shrug. “Like it just fine. Just don’t like scanning floating gas when we can be wandering around on brand new planets, meeting strange new people and getting in trouble with them.”

“All in due time, Ben. Join me in a drink?”

“Whatcha got?”

Ford produced a long, goose-necked bottle from beneath.
“Aldebran whisky?”

Ben eyed it circumspectly.
“It’s green, Cap.”

“Well, yeah. But I’ve heard its—“

The boson’s whistled ended any ideas of trying the new drink out. “Captain to the bridge.” Said Lieutenant Commander Davenport’s voice from the desk intercom. The two key officers exchanged glances as they arose.

“On my way.”




Lieutenant Smith turned expectantly from the comm station as Ford and Commander Thomas stepped back onto the bridge. “Report,” called the bald headed CO. Noah glanced to the chief of ops, Lieutenant Commander Ronald Davenport. Ron nodded back his way, which led the captain’s eyes to the communications officer. Smith swallowed, clearing his throat.
“Captain, I’m picking up what I think is a distress call.”

Ford seemed a bit surprised, though suddenly wary also.
“Source?”

Smith almost stammered. Dammit, he thought, I’m better than this. Why am I feeling so damn inadequate? The captain and XO just seemed to rattle him most of the time. “Unsure at this time, sir. Source relatively close to us, within the plasma string bearing 345 mark 025. Distance unknown.”

“Language?”

“Nothing discernable, Captain. Automated computer signal. Repeating every ten seconds. Very faint. I doubt anyone would pick it up outside a half lightyear.”

Ford glanced away from the comm officer. Smith was very glad for the temporary reprieve. Now the captain’s gaze centered on the helm. “Mister Bronstien, what’s up that way? The string particularly dense in there?”

Noah looked left to the forward main screen. The viewer showed a long, glowing trail of pink, ionized matter. Except for the roiling, rotating nature of it, the formation might look like a terrestrial cloud at sunset. It took up most of the screen, leaving very little area for it to show the natural blank of space beyond.

“Not too bad, Cap.” Lieutenant Johnathan Bronstien reported, studying his thermal imaging scanners. “There’s some maneuvering room in there, but some pretty wild gravity shifts. I’d recommend taking it slow.”

“Slow and easy then. Ahead one quarter impulse power.” Ford looked aside to the Russian weapons officer. “Yellow Alert, Mister Nechayev. Full shields.”

“Aye, Keptin,” the tall blonde replied. The repetitive call of Condition Two sounded as the lighting dimmed. Behind Smith’s bulkhead could be heard the noise of the deflector generators spinning up. Ford was eyeing Noah again.

“Think you can guide us in to that signal, son?”

Smith nodded back.
“Aye, aye, Captain!”

Ford only nodded back as he turned to take his seat in the depressed command section. Smith was turning back to his own console to begin tracing the energy pattern of the distress call when he heard the captain call off: “Steady as she goes.”


***

This is just a teaser to get things rolling. See ya soon.

the guv'!

[Grim Reaper]

consider me teased. Now gimme more !

[Governor Ronjar]

Thought eventually more than just 1 person would reply. Mayhap y'all just need more...

CH. 2




Lieutenant Commander Davenport eyed the forward isothermal imaging monitor in the center of his control panel. Lieutenant Bronstien, who sat to the right of him, was guiding the massive Excelsior-Class starship through a dense terrain of moving clouds of destructive plasma with all the care and precision of a surgeon performing an open-heart procedure. The kid had already, two weeks prior, piloted this ship through a similar field of string phenomena, but this was much more densely packed than that one. There was no flying through here at warp speed. Edging the velocity gauge up to just half-impulse power would likely get them fried.

The string Ron currently monitored was at least seven A.U.’s long and nearly forty million kilometers in width. It was passing at a tenth the speed of light beneath a smaller, but equally dangerous formation, which criss-crossed its path. Arcs of ionized energy passed back and forth between the differently charged banks. The space behind the ship, after ten minutes of traveling through this storm, was crowded with many such energy strings, each of them moving and obscuring their exit. This was a dangerous place to traverse. And the space separating the two strings they had to pass between was becoming tighter. These phenomena should have been repelling one another. But the gravimetric fields of this sector kept hurling them and many other plasma clouds together in riotous ballet.

“Widest point of separation now ten thousand kilometers, helm.” The ops chief called to the pilot. Johnathan nodded his understanding without reply. His eyes danced from his own nav controls and to the forward viewer.

Endeavour shook with a thunderous clamor. Warning lights ignited in a small corner of the operations console. The shields had taken an energy discharge from a string passing to port. It wouldn’t be the last they took. “Shields holding at eighty percent, Cap’n.” He reported to the conn.

The ship then began to tremble, then vibrate like a joy-buzzer from the gravitonic sheer she encountered. The oscillations came through the hull and the deck plating in waves, fore to aft. The image of the clouds ahead began to rotate as Endeavour rolled on her port beam.

“Attitude control becoming treacherous, Cap’n.” Ron called off further. He looked back at his range values. Those clouds were beginning to merge at their farthest end. “Widest point of separation now eight thousand. Twenty-five seconds to contact.”

“Reading increased energy discharges ahead.” Said Lieutenant Surall, freshly back to the bridge from the lower decks. Her favorite sensor scope was distended before her eyes. “Magnitude increasing to ten to the third power Cochranes. A direct hit from any one will obliterate our deflector shields.”

“Understood,” came the captain’s voice. “Helm, increase speed as you see fit. Get us through there as quick as you can.”

“Aye, Cap.” Bronstien’s hand fell to the throttle controls governing the sublight engines. The moan of the impulse drive increased dramatically. Ron eyeballed his indicators.

“Speed increasing to one-half impulse power. Helm is correcting our yaw, but the gravimetric forces are increasing as we near the strings. Separation now five thousand kilometers, still decreasing.”

Mister Nechayev spoke up from the tactical board. His hands gripped either side of the board in front of him to brace himself against the growing tremor. “I would not suggest going through there, Keptin. We’re bound to get hit!”

“Our path astern is closed, Captain.” Surall informed from science. She looked Daniel’s way, her face as even as if she were reading him a textbook. “There is no where to return to.”

Ford tapped the control for the intercom.
“Engineering, divert all reserve and auxiliary power to the deflectors. We’re gonna need it.”

“Yes, Captain.” Came the Andorian chief engineer’s reply.

A moment passed as the clouds grew on the view screen to an all-encompassing size. The arcs of electricity shooting back and forth were as wide as starships. Davenport found himself gaping. He glanced at Bronstien. The lieutenant wasn’t looking at the viewer anymore. He stared coldly at his readings, fingers poised over his controls. He boosted speed once again and the rattle of the hull became like to an earthquake. The deck plating was literally banging up and down in their mounts.

“Shields now register at one hundred and twenty percent, Keptin,” Nechayev was reporting.

“Speed increasing to full impulse, Captain.” Davenport said, recovering from his awe. “Distance to gap now six thousand kilometers, contact in three seconds. Separation now two thousand kilometers.”

“Hold on!” The XO called out unnecessarily.

All that could be seen now on the main screen were the bursts of ions as they arced in front of the Starfleet ship. Several altered their courses to intersect Endeavour as she darted by them. The reverberation of their near impacts smashed into the ship from all sides. The impacts were innumerable. Light and shadow danced across the bulkheads from the illumination provided by the depicted entertainment.

“Shields falling to forty percent!” Called from the weapons station. The inertial micro-dampeners in the deck beneath Nechayev were barely helping him remain afoot. The ship heaved from another thundercrack. Lighting flickered and extinguished in areas of the main deck, and likely across the entire ship. The hair on Ron’s head began to fell as if it were standing on end.

And just as soon as it had begun, the tumult was passed. Swirling masses of further strings danced before the ship on the other side of the two they’d bisected. The tremor of the deck lessened to a background vibration. The ops panel showed no real damage. Ron glanced back at his pale skinned captain.

“We’re through the worse of it.”

“Sensors reading a clear area six A.U.’s in diameter with a ceiling height of forty-two thousand kilometers. Gravimetric patterns suggest this area shall remain stable for the next hour.” Surall reported. She stood and came down into the command center to stand by the captain. Her subordinates retained control of the science station in her absence. “Signal strength to the distress call has yet to grow in any discernable fashion since our entry into the zone. I am uncertain as to whether we are getting any closer to it.”

This comment drew a look from their comm officer. His command microphone was still plugged into his ear and the look of consternation on his face showed he remained steadfast as to the bearing that he’d supplied. “The scanners may not be reading clearly in this storm region. But I can hear a steady increase in signal strength as I listen to it on my link. We’re closing in.”

Ford played with his short beard as he looked noncommittally back to the Lieutenant.
“Any idea how much further to go?”

“Not yet, Captain. We’ll probably know within the hour.”

Surall altered her stance on the conn podium uncomfortably.
“Within an hour, this empty field amid the plasma may decide to draw closed. I cannot predict how the fields will begin to move when the next gravity front moves through. I do not suggest remaining inside this phenomena very long.” And with that, the young scientist clasped her hands behind her and returned to the science deck. Ford watched her go, then glanced back to Smith.

“Tie in with science and see if you can’t get a better idea of where our phantom signal is coming from.”

An idea popped into Ronald’s mind as he stared at the thermographic sensors and the white-hot blobs of plasma drawn there. He turned to face the conn. “Cap’n, we could try triangulating the signal’s true direction using comm probes set to different courses away from the ship. That might give us a better idea on range too.”

Ford seemed a bit skeptical.
“Would unshielded comm probes be able to function in this region with all the EM and ionic interference?”

Ron shrugged back.
“They could be modified to filter out the interference from their readings and engineering might be able to shield its operating systems with modified tactical shield units.”

Ford’s brows raised, figuring the plan had some merit. He nodded his ascent to the ops officer.
“Get down to the photon bay and ready your probes. Mister Smith, you know exactly what interference will degrade their readings the most, so you’re going to assist. Go with Ron.”

“Aye, Captain,” the both of them said.

Commander Davenport left the ops station to a noncom from the engineering section and stepped in behind the young officer. Smith was walking a bit stiffly, and somewhat wobbly along the vibrating deck. The kid was good, Ron thought, but had yet to fully earn his space legs. He’d adapt.

Following Smith into the port turbolift, they left the coziness of the bridge behind.


***


If this still is not enough, I can post further. However, I'd like to hear SOMEONE'S opinion at least beyond a whip-crack...*wink*

[Commander La'ra]

No whips?

Grim, fetch the Cat'o'Nine-tails.  Seems the Guv isn't satisfied with our less challenging motivator.

[Grim Reaper]

As you command, Master!

And More == More while dealing with fanfiction of your level.

[Grim Reaper]

BTW Guv, got a smiley specificly 4 u:

[Governor Ronjar]

I friggin LOVE it man!

--thu guv!

[Governor Ronjar]

Despite there being almost no one around to post...seemingly...I'll just go ahead and keep on without waiting for everyone...or no one...

I'd still like some feed back if anyone likes or dislikes my stuff.

CH. 3




Lieutenant (senior grade) Noah Smith could not believe what he was helping to do. He was a trained communications officer. This was true. Working with comm probes and beacons was certainly within his training and job description. And yes, he was expected to find ways to improve the efficiency of his equipment to aid in cutting through interference.

Not once, however, had he ever considered the idea of being down in the photon torpedo bay of a starship, installing planetary based defensive shielding on a comm probe, in order to track down a distress beacon in the midst of a plasma storm. There was nothing about this duty that was outside his training. He knew the basics of all the equipment at hand. He could probably have cobbled together the thing by himself if given enough time. But the simple idea of all these factors thrown into a single situation had the boy smiling. This was what it was to be in Starfleet!

“Pass me the mag spanner.” Davenport was asking of him from his side of the opened probe body. Each of the module’s maintenance and access hatches stood open for inspection as they did their work. The main body of the field generator was already in place. Now they were just tying it in to the probe’s mini-fusion reactor. Noah looked over to the blue duffel containing all of their tools and selected the required spanner and handed it over. Ron bent in low over the machine and put his arm deep into its inner workings.

Behind them, Lieutenant Commander Xia Tolin, the ship’s engineer, was reviewing the schematics as they were coming together on her data PADD. The blue-skinned Andorian tilted her head as she read over something that drew her attention. “We are not shielding the EPS leads to prevent radiation?”

Ron shrugged as much as he could with his arm in such an uncomfortable position.
“Not much time on our hands to get this done. We have another half-hour in our window before this cloud formation starts really moving. We might have to abandon the mission at that point. We’ll scrub the photon bay down for rads after we launch.”

Xia raised an eyebrow. Funny, thought Noah, her antennae mimicked the motion.

“We’re not planning to recover these drones, then?”

Ron shook his head.
“That would be a ‘no’.”

Smith glanced up at the superior officer. “They’ll likely be fried anyway.”

Tolin placed hands upon her slim hips. “I thought that was what the shields were for in the first place, Lieutenant.”

“Well, the operating systems might be okay, but the sensors and telemetry equipment will likely be overloaded after about ten minutes in all the interference. The shielding is mostly just to ensure we get that ten minutes.”

“We’ll perfect the design the next time…” Davenport withdrew his arm from the aperture and closed down the maintenance hatches. “Add stuff like radiation baffles and insulated relays.”

Noah stepped clear of the drone and picked up a remote control and access PADD. He checked over his final rewrite of the operating code and programming for the sensors. He was pretty sure his design could beat the ionic interference that was blasting through space out there. But it was always good to double check.

Ron was cleaning grease off his hands with a red towel. He came around the butt of the drone they’d just finished, eyeing the youth speculatively. “You sure these things will be able to scan out there?”

Noah nodded back. Now all they had to do was duplicate their work on the second probe and deploy them. Endeavour bucked as a small gravity wave passed over her position. Xia had turned her attention to the team of engineers she had brought down here to set up the second probe, ignoring the two bridge officers for the time being. Smith stepped closer to his friend.

“Was she questioning my idea, sir?”

“Not really, son,” Davenport replied in a slow drawl. “Andorians are slow to give anyone or anything all their trust all at once. She’ll let these things prove themselves before she gives it her endorsement. Don’t worry about it.”

“Okay.”

Noah watched as the techs pulled the factory installed components and began to move and replace them. The job took twenty one minutes the first time. Now that the trial and error phase was over, maybe they could knock that down to about fifteen or so. Ron nudged the lieutenant.

“Wanna call the bridge and report our good news?”

Smith smiled.
“Sure.”




It had been twelve minutes since Mister Smith’s first report from the starboard torpedo bay. Now the smiling boy was emerging from the turbolift and resuming his station with all the pride that a good plan can achieve. Ford believed that Mister Davenport brought out the good in the young officer. And by the smile on Ron’s face, that was his opinion also.

“Probes ready and loading, Captain.” Smith reported.

Ford gave as warm a smile as he could smear on his face and nodded back. “Good work, y’all. Mister Nechayev, clear bay two and prepare for launch.”

“Bay cleared, Keptin.” The Russian had probably ordered the bay devoid of its crewmen as soon as he’d received word the drones were in position. “Systems activated and standing by.”

“Set their exit vectors for twenty degrees down either beam of our flight vector.” Ford sat upright in his blue seat. “Launch drones.”

Mister Smith turned fully to his seat and began to monitor the action of his children. Both modules were operating as expected, and their scans were remarkably clean. He pushed his command link into his ear and began to listen to the squall of noise that was coming through on subspace.

“I think we’ve got it, Captain.” Noah called out. “Coming in at a faint 300 hertz… On bandwidth C… Definite triangulation. Bearing 051 mark 014…distance fourteen million km.”

“Any idea on identity of the sender?”

“No, sir. Still too badly distorted. The computer cannot put ID on it. It doesn’t sound familiar to me, either.”

Ford nodded.
“Helm, how busy is that flight vector?”

Bronstien shrugged as he bobbed his black haired head.
“A bit tight out there, but I think our shields can take what’s ahead this time. But if you have a hankerin’ for a hot cup of coffee, get it out of the way now, ‘cause its gonna be bumpy.”

Chevy found himself grinning at the reply.
“Now there’s a professional report if I ever heard one. Take us ahead, helm. Best speed.”

Commander Thomas stood from his executive station and closed on the bridge railing near to comm.
“Can we get a hail through to whatever ship’s out there?”

Smith turned to face the exec. “I replied with a standard hail upon confirming it was a distress beacon, sir. No response.”

“Was our signal even strong enough to make it in here?”

Noah looked over the graphics on interference strength that glowed back at him on his monitors. “I don’t think so, sir. Not unless they were keyed to just our frequency and had a fully operational comm suite.”

Ben Thomas looked back to his friend at the conn. Ford pointed a ‘go-ahead’ finger back Smith’s direction. “Put me on general frequencies.”

“You’re on, Captain.”

“Ship in distress, this is Captain Ford of the Federation ship Endeavour, do you read?”

Nothing but computer muted static came in answer. They all watched the glowing plasma clouds linger closer as Bronstien jockeyed the ship for a way through.

“I say again: This is the USS Endeavour, Captain Ford commanding. We have come in answer to your distress signal. If you can hear me, please respond.”

Smith looked back that way with doubtful dismay.
“No response, Captain.”

The captain made a gruff face as he looked to the junior officer.

“Alright. Repeat message in all standard frequencies and languages. Let me know if there’s a response.”




Endeavour rattled like an old pickup truck on a dirt road as she passed through a final eddy of plasma and entered a channel of calm, ion-free space between strings. Beyond a few rumblings from the shields and the occasional jolt, this fresh area was as smooth as canoeing down a gentle river. Three strings moved along the same direction here, all of them heading the direction Endeavour had just come. The space between the clouds was tight, no more than a few thousand kilometers, but it seemed stable.

Bronstien slowly keyed back the throttle controls and looked back at the conn.
“Slowing to one-half impulse, Cap’n. Steady on course 171 mark 337.”

Ford looked back to the science station. Surall and two of her support techs were bent over the console, gleaning every bit of information they could out of everything they’d passed. “Are we still closing on the signal, Lieutenant?”

“Aye, sir,” Surall answered, not taking her eyes off the scanners before her. “Estimate approximately ten thousand kilometers more. I am attempting to establish a visual.”

Ford waited with idle anticipation as the main screen remained fixed on the jetting masses of gas outside. He could make out very little else in the pink and blue haze. Finally, the viewer seemed to shift and a small, angular mass occupied the center of the feed.
 
“Magnification twenty.” He ordered.

The object in the middle of the screen resolved instantly into a small, pointed-nosed warship built of brown and green alloys. It bore two darkened, half-globe warp drive pods on either side of its aft hull, and a doubled play of armor which turned the needle like craft into a bulky looking construction. The ship’s bow was a duel-forked design, one point held above the other. And it was quite familiar to Starfleet’s intelligence bureaus.

“A Gorn ship.” Ford murmured. Despite their relative close proximity to Gorn space, he was still surprised. They almost never ventured beyond their own borders. Yet, they were here…

“Indeed, Captain.” Surall’s voice said evenly. She pressed her eyes into her scope and keyed a series of controls without looking. “A small escort and scouting vessel, equivalent of our frigate designs. It is unpowered, having only minimal systems operating on battery power. It has sustained hull and system damage, likely from contact with a strong plasma string or ionic discharge. I believe its course is being dictated on automatic, though its impulse drive has been damaged severely.”

“Lifesigns?” Asked Thomas.

“Scanning…” Surall seemed to hesitate. “I am uncertain as to the prospect of survivors aboard that ship, sir.” Her hands adjusted the intensive bio-scanners. She stood to make some of the finer adjustments. She then returned to the protruding monitor.

“I am receiving a bio signature, Captain. However, I am unable to locate an exact source.”

Ben looked back Ford’s way with a shrug.
“Could be storm interference, Cap’n.”

“Negative, sirs.” Surall’s voice sounded definite. “My system is altered to filter out ionic and EM variants. I am unable to ascertain the location of the lifeform reading I am encountering.”

Ford stood and approached the science console. The deck beneath him was more or less stable.
“Are the readings you’re picking up indicative of a healthy Gorn or group of Gorn?”

Surall straightened and considered the idea. Her brown eyes found those of her CO.
“Not likely, Captain.”

“And if this ship continues as it is?”

It wasn’t often Vulcans shrugged.
“They will be destroyed in the next plasmic shift in this area.”

Chevy pursed his lips and nodded to himself. He tended to be a man of straightforward action. And this was the time for such. He turned to the comm station. “Mister Smith, put me on general hail once again.”

“You’re on, Captain.”

“Gorn vessel, this is the USS Endeavour. If you can hear us, we are about to render assistance. We will stabilize your course using tractor beams to clear you of the plasma strings near by. This is not an attack. Stand by.”

Now the captain looked to his weapons officer.

“Mister Nechayev, lock tractors on the Gorn and draw them into transporter range,” he then looked forward. “Helm, once we have the ship securely, set us a course out of the plasma field at whatever speed it can handle.”

“Aye, Cap.” Replied Bronstien. He began to lay in gentle directional corrections to edge them in above the alien vessel. The pointed craft began to loom larger on the center screen.

“What are the on-board conditions over there?” Ford asked his science officer. He knew the lizard-like Gorn evolved on worlds with much higher gravity than most. Their observed strength was astounding. He didn’t fancy getting on board that ship and being crushed flat to the deck by the regular gravity.

Surall faced her console and read over several monitors.
“Very little heat, temperatures below zero Celsius and decreasing. Gravity off-line. Oxygen within human limits in all intact areas. There are several areas containing intense neutron radiation where their warp core has vented.”

“Alright, Davenport, Smith, Surall and Doctor Keller will suit up in EVA suits and prepare to beam over. XO, you have the conn—“

“Bullsh*t!”

Thomas stood up from his seat and stared down the Captain. The uniformed mountain looked ready to squash his friend, though oddly enough, the look possessed no hint of anger. He was a man who’d smack Ford in the face and laugh at him, but do it as a friendly gesture. “You’re not goin’ over there, Cap’n. I over looked all your gallivanting over the years because I wasn’t your XO. Now I am. You condemned me to the second seat, so now I’m gonna make you pay for the promotion. Regulations say you’re staying here.”

Ford felt a bit betrayed and more than a little let down. He was jumping at the chance to go see a Gorn ship first hand, but now Ben was stopping him. “Et Tu, Brute?” He had to smirk over it, though. This was what a good executive officer was supposed to do, though not so forcefully on the bridge…

“Alright, you go have all the fun. But the next time I find a way to have some hair-brained fun, I’m goin’!”

Ben returned the smile.

“Deal…if it isn’t too dangerous.” The hulk began to wave his people toward the starboard side turbo elevator. “We’ll take level three security equipment. If we find the source of those readings, we’ll call in and render assist. If we meet resistance, we’ll beam the hell back out.”
***

Well there we go. Maybe La'ra will like where this is going...

Lemme know likes and hates. At least sling some indifference this way...

--thu guv'!

[Commander La'ra]

La'ra will give it a good read when he gets home from work in the morning.

Bastards called me in.  Again.

[Commander La'ra]

I like that you've tossed in my favorite cackling lizards, of course, and I'm intrigued by what's going on, but what's really getting me are some of your metaphors.

Endeavour rattled like an old pickup truck on a dirt road

Love it.

[Scottish Andy]

Hi Guv!

Sorry for not commenting earlier, but I've been off in my own little world again. I kinda stopped coming when the stories stopped getting posted and people didn't comment--only to realise now that I've contibuted to ths ghost town we now find ourselves in.

I hereby return! *picks up dusty Starbase 23 sign leaning against the motel wall, dusts it off, and rehangs it*

Now, to your story:

I just have to say again that I love your character interplay:

Ford glanced humorously over to his executive officer who lounged of the ready room’s sofa. Ben flipped his commanding officer the bird, out of the eyesight of the noncom. Ford ignored him...

I love that these guys are not only friends, they're buddies. Good friends pull that kind of crap with one another. It's slightly weird to see it from CO and XO on a Fred starship, but it works.
Not only that, but the minor character interaction--as carried on from the previous story--is well done too.

I really liked your description of the Endeavour's trip through the plasma storm, it was exciting and sounded real. Well, apart from the deck plates "bouncing up". What, your shipwright can't tighten a self-sealing stem bolt? *grin*

The scientific dialogue is very well done. Im reading this and I'm just listening to specialists at work. It doesn't sound like a load of TNG treknobabble. You are striking the balance just right, and you should be complimented on a difficult task pulled off perfectly--and made to look easy. I shall be emulating you when the time comes for my people to get that far into the 23rd century.
The solution to pinning down the location of the distress signal is plausible and worked well.

Oh, and I second Larry's approval of your metaphors. Showing your hayseed, farmboy upbringing, but it's nice to see these. They seem right, even though the crrew of the Endeavour have never likely had any experiences like that. They're your metaphors, those of the narrator, so as long as none of the characters use them you're doing good.
Mind you, yo ucould have one character say them, and have them come from an old-fashioned colony, only settled 20 years or so, and have the others stare blankly at their metaphors, as they have no similar experiences to relate to....

Hmmm. I'm going to use that myself, so just forget what I said, k? *grin*

Now, the nitpicks. *smiile*

Your technical skills are still a little off. No conventions used for character thoughts and formatting is a biit helter-skelter, but not enough to detract from my enjoyment of the story. Like I said, it's slightly off. Minor stuff.

I have a slight problem with the main characters doing all the work, but I understand it from a dramatic standpoint. It is actually well done in this instance too, as you explain it well. Like I said, with a crew of 650-odd, maybe you have another comm specialist, a senior enlisted type who knows his stuff from his decades of experence, but as I said, this scene with Smith works well.

The Gorn ship: your discription sounds like no Gorn ship I've ever seen. Is it a FASA type?

The Gorn presence: From your last story, Sector KL-115 is on the far edge Federation space but close to the Klingon border. Are you using the Starcharts layout of Stellar nations, as the SFB layout has the Gorn widely seperated from the Klingons by the little matter of the entire Romulan Star Empire.

The two Gorn issues are more a matter of sources. It's slightly jarring t me because of my SFB/C upbringing, but it may be more natural to you if these are the FASA layout, or some other resource I know little or nothing about.

So, a whole lotta good, a couple of very minor nitpicks, and a couple more which depends on which Gorn you're using: SFB or FASA/Other

All in all, a great read. Different from the norm, with great characters and interaction, and a good and interesting situation to muddle through. Keep it up! Can't wait for the next installment.

PS: Say, anyone heard from Jaeih recently? No one's commented on her 'Kestrel', poor sod...

[Governor Ronjar]

Well, the Gorn ship was my impression of the SFC 3 'Generations at war' add-on frigate, which was just a teched up version of the SFC frigate. Perhaps my wording did not ring true... While I don't use tech crap from SFB or C, I blatantly steal ship designs I like. So for a mental pic, just imagine the Gorn FF.

As for my main characters doing all the work...well, that's why they're the main characters. Don't want any Mayweathers on board my 810 crew ship.

Metaphors... The captains name is Chevis D. Ford. or Chevy-Dogge-Ford. Yeah, the Ford parents had some humor issues with their boy... He would in fact use them, as would the XO. They joined the enlisted service together, grew up in the same town. When Ford got rank, he found Mister Thomas and got him posted close by.


As for what map, grap yourself a copy of Star Trek Starcharts: The complete Atlas of Star Trek by Geoffrey Mandel. In that, Mandel places the Gorn Hegemony right underneath the Klingon Empire and near to the Fed border with them. I never liked the SFB map. Don't like SFB when you get right down to it. To my knowledge, there is no FASA map, and I wouldn't use it anyway. FASA was just watered down SFB.

I thank you for the long post. That's exactly what I wanted as a review of what was posted. +Karma for you! I hope to continue to entertain you with the character interactions. I'd say more, but I'm running shy on time here.

--thu guv!

[CaptJosh]

I liked this so far, myself. No specific critiques save an agreement with Andy's comment about character thoughts. You should standardize how they're noted. It detracted from my enjoyment not at all, though. It's just something that'll make a story easier to follow.

BTW Andy, how about some more feedback on my story. I posted Chapter Six a while back. Please, have a look, laddie.

[Governor Ronjar]

I do jump from character to character at times without a break in the writing. I've thought of it at times and wondered how hard it would be to follow. Hard to say when re-reading your own stuff. I'll try not to do that as I write story 5...

BTW, a modification to an above reply...When I spelled Ford's middle name, I did a typo. Its Dodge. Chevy Dodge Ford. I thought about having his friends call him CD...but decided against it...

--thu guv!

[Governor Ronjar]

Here's sum more soup for the bowl. Maybe the toilet bowl, who knows...


CH. 4




Commander Benjamin Thomas checked the power level on the phaser rifle in his hands and set it for maximum stun. There was no intel on how much stun force was actually required to bring down a Gorn, but he was quite sure light stun wasn’t going to do the job. He looked across the transporter room at the other members of the away party who were busy getting into their own EVA suits. None of them had yet picked up their weapons, let alone check them out. Ben was very proficient, after three decades of service, at getting into a space suit.

“When you claim your Type Threes, check ‘em out and set for level two.” He glanced at the redhead who was just strapping down the last bit of her shiny white suit. “You got any experience with reptilian lifeforms, Doctor Keller?”

Keller looked back at the huge XO with little emotion showing on her pale face. She had dark brown eyes, almost black, and seemed to prefer darker lipsticks. “Only more common terrestrial animals, Exec.” Her British accent told him. “Few scientists in the Federation have had opportunity to examine the Gorn species.”

“Well, you’re gonna be one of the first. How good are you with a phaser?”

“I don’t prefer rifles. Too ungainly.” She picked out a Type Two from the open arms locker and strapped its holster to her belt. “But I practice at level eight with the pistol unit.”

Level Eight was better than most marines could best on the range. Vulcans and Andorians were the only species that possessed the hand-eye coordination to consistently score better than seven. Thomas decided that he’d check out here marksmanship file before becoming too impressed. He didn’t begrudge the doctor a pistol, though.

“That’s just fine, Doc. I don’t intend to have a running firefight with these guys anyway. We’re a rescue op.”

The XO looked his team over, watching as they turned to double check the suits of their neighbors. When all were ready and armed, he led them out into the main section of the transporter room. PO Goodwin was manning the main controls within the booth, supported by a gold collared engineer. Ben’s team assembled upon five of the six pads in the alcove. Goodwin looked back at them all.

“Commander, the sight I’ve picked is deep within the interior of the ship. I’m not reading any active transport beacons, if they even use them… The temp in the chamber you’ll beam into is twenty bellow freezing. There shows to be plenty of O2 on sight, but our scanners could be wrong in all of the interference. Be careful.”

Ben nodded back at the NCO. Goodwin was a good hand with plenty of experience under his own belt. Thomas had picked him personally for security four years back. He felt a bit more secure with him on the controls.

“Sounds good, Dawayne. Keep a sharp eye on the sensors and pick us up if you hear a peep out of us.” Thomas turned in his bulky white suit to face his men. “Helmets on and visors down till I order otherwise.”

Each of them slid their round helmets over their heads, obscuring any hint of who they’d once been. Only the patched attached to the shoulders of their suits held any clue to the identity of the person within. Ben looked back to the control booth.

“Energize.”





Within a darkened and frigid compartment of the stricken vessel, five shafts of azure light formed and split into glowing humanoid forms. As the energy of the transporter beam faded from around the group of rescuers, they each activated their shoulder and rifle mounted lamps and flooded the room with garish light.

Thomas took a few trial steps forward from the beam-in point and panned the channel of his lights about the interior of the space they’d found themselves in. The room was large and spacious for such a small space going ship. Modules that might have been computer banks lined one of the walls facing the away party, its screens dead. There were no chairs to be had, nor any other furnishings. A single lighting device occupied the center of the compartment’s ceiling. It too was dead. Various items like to data pads floated in the weightless environment, bouncing from obstacle to obstacle.

Eerie sounded filtered through the dampening of their thick helmets, and their lights played grotesque shadows upon every surface. The gravity felt squishy, but it was nothing their magnetic boots couldn’t solve for them.

“Alright, tight formation, we don’t know how stable this thing is after all the damage it took. Keller, how’s the air?”

The lady doctor had her tricorder up and taking readings. Through her tinted visor, her eyes scanned the information displayed. “Atmosphere is filled with bio-toxins. Something on this ship has decomposed and flooded the air with microbes.”

“Deadly?”

“Not while the temp remains below freezing, but the moment these buggers meet body temp, they’ll cause rampant infection. Our helmets stay on.”

“You heard the lady! Helmets stay on.” Ben told the rest of them. He pointed to the chamber’s only door. “Let’s prize this hatch and have a look at the rest of the ship.”

Commander Davenport slowly trudged his way to the hatch and began to run a thorough scan over its mechanism. “No power to the system, but there is a manual release.” He handed his tricorder over to Lieutenant Surall.

With a quick flick from a small pry bar from his belt kit, Ronald detached a foot long wall panel from beside the door. After a brief examination, he tried the lever within. It wouldn’t budge. After a few more grunts, the former engineer shrugged and stepped back.
“Too tough for me. Gotta be at least an eighty pound pull on that thing.”

Surall stepped in closely to Davenport and slid her hand into the crevasse. After a swift jerk, the lever came down and the door opened. Surall turned and might have nodded to the XO, though it was hard to say due to her suit’s bulk. Both she and Mister Smith stepped out into the corridor beyond, rifles raised and scanning the way. Ben chucked Ron on the shoulder.

“Gotta let the girls open your doors for ya?”

Davenport shrugged again.
“Turnabout’s fair play, XO.”

The corridors they passed through were littered with debris and the wall panels and overhead conduits showed remarkable signs of damage. This ship had taken a beating. Smoke hung thick in the chill air in several places. Thomas led his men on, hoping to lead them toward what science had decided was the bridge.

“Reading a bio mass ahead, Number One.” Came Keller’s voice over the helmet comms. It took Ben a second to realize she was referring to him.

“I go by XO round here, Doc. What kind of bio mass?”

“Reptilian. Inert.”

Around a thirty-degree bend in the debris-filled, grey-brown walled hallway they came upon a crumpled form laying face down on the deck. It was obviously a Gorn male, well over two meters tall. Its green scales were dull and without luster, and many of them were cracked. The alien was wearing a military uniform and possessing no weaponry beyond what nature had equipped him with. Its great green muscles sagged in dead weight and its slender tongue hung stiffly between a row of needle thin carnivore’s teeth. The creature’s normally reflective eyes were without shine.

Keller’s suit bent low as she ran a palm scanner over the corpse.

“This body has been through partial decompression at some point, but that wasn’t the cause of death.”

“What was?” Asked Smith. Ben stood just behind the doctor, rifle held at the ready.

“I believe he froze to death. There’s evidence of tissue laceration at the cellular level, as though ice had formed in its body. It’s wide spread, so I’d say this corridor got a lot colder than it is presently. There is also evidence that after it froze, the body was then subjected to intense heat.”

Thomas found himself nodding, though there was no one able to catch the gesture.

“This ship’s been on a roller coaster ride since it got disabled. Let’s get to the bridge and see what we can salvage. Hopefully there’s a compartment somewhere aboard with survivors.” He remembered Surall’s phantom bio signature. It seemed more and more likely that whatever had caused the reading was not a lifeform.





Captain Ford sat uncomfortably in his totally comfortable chair and resisted yet again the urge to stroll around the bridge. The small warship held aloft by his ship’s tractor beam still dominated the main viewer. It was a constant reminder that his comrades were out there, without him, sharing all the risks and the adventure. Hoarding it, one might say…

“Keptin,” Nechayev’s uninvited voice broke off Ford’s melancholy reverie and called him back to reality. “Long range sensors now detecting traces of an active varp field.”

“Where away?”

“Approaching from directly ahead, Keptin. And growing in strength.”

“ID?”

“None as yet, Keptin. Too much subspace interference.”

“Keep an eye on it. Mister Bates, hail the XO.”






Commander Thomas’s communicator beeped within the confines of his helmet; a message from Endeavour. With a tap to the key on his suit’s chest panel, he opened the line. “Go ahead Endeavour.”

“Ford here, XO. Be advised possible incoming vessel. Maybe even a Gorn rescue ship.”

Ben stopped in his progress toward the bridge hatch they’d found.

“What are our orders if it is the Gorn?”

“We’ll beam you the hell off of there and back off. It’s their ship.”

Thomas had to agree with the idea. The Gorn were territorial and protective of their property. Snooping around on their ship was a good way to get shot at. But till they got here, this ship was open to inspection. “We’ve reached what is likely the bridge, Cap’n. Mister Davenport is making entry.”

Ahead of him, both Ron and Surall were peering into an open control panel and figuring out its workings. There came a flurry of lit indicators and the door reeled up into the ceiling. “We’re in,” he told Ford.

“Understood. Keep me upraised.” Said Ford as he killed the connection.

The bridge of this craft was akin to many of the other compartments they’d looked in on. It was spacious, with a lot of overhead. There was still not an over abundant amount of lighting within, but the fixtures were at least functional here. Each of the team in turn killed their own lamps and spread out to examine the interior of the room.

Ben stepped up to a central control station, which was ringed with panels and displays. The monitors were dead or showing red default messages. Static showed on several screens. Very little was online aboard this escort. The keyboards of the alien designed station came up to the XO’s chest area.

Some of the differences in this bridge stood out from other races’ designs. The first was the lack of chairs. No space built on this craft showed any evidence of a place to sit down. Not even the few cabins they’d examined along the way had any sort of seat. Only giant cushions placed on the decks that might have been meant for sleeping. Their mentality seemed to be either to stand or lay down.

Another difference was the apparent lack of a main view screen here on the bridge. There were plenty of visual displays on the console spread out within the compartment, but no central viewer. Ben found that an oddity. He looked over to Surall, who scanned every millimeter of the room with her tricorder. Davenport was near to her, doing likewise and also poking at various consoles and interfaces.

“You two get all the intel you can from this bird. Fleet intelligence would give its left nut to be in here with us.”

“Ouch…” Came from Ron, whose suited figure faced Thomas. “We’ll get every thing possible. We need to get Mister Smith working on translating these panels for us. I need to find an engineering station.”

Thomas looked for the tallest among them. Finding him, he waved the kid into action. Lieutenant Smith lumbered over to Davenport and eyed his tricorder while referring to his Universal Translator PADD. They went from station to station till halting at an after console.

“This one mentions antimatter relays, XO.” Smith called. He had halted at the only console that actually had an occupant. The dead Gorn officer lay in a heap before the station, still crumpled where he’d fallen. The two Starfleet officers dispassionately stepped over the corpse.

Ronald began to confer with the Smith in quiet tones as they began to decipher the meanings of the readings listed there. Surall stepped nearer to Thomas. “XO, I have examined the readings taken of this vessel’s available battery power.”

“And?”

“The system is depleted to within two hundred terawatts of its capacity. The rate of drain also suggests it has been this way for some time. I do not believe we will find any survivors aboard.”

Ben looked more fully at the white clad science officer.
“It was your sensor scan that led us over here.”

“Agreed. However, having been unable to localize further readings of the bio signature since our arrival, I must conclude that the reading was erroneous. Possibly due to interference.”

Ben decided not to mention that she had vehemently ruled out the idea of interference being a problem while aboard Endeavour. “Well, we’re here and it won’t hurt to look around some more. Key your sensors for life readings only and see what you can find.”

“Aye, sir.”

Surall stepped away, joining the form of Doctor Keller. Both began to scan for life signs. Ben remained silent and let his teamwork. He wondered why there weren’t more bodies on the bridge. What had been more important than remaining here? Davenport was the next to call out to him.

“Hey, Commander! We got something.”

Thomas stomped their way, halting behind Davenport and Smith.
“What is it?”

“The computer lists the reason for main power failure,” the chief of ops told him, pointing at the lit graphic in the center of the monitor in front of him. The schematic was definitely that of an EPS type power grid. “An ionic surge overloaded their entire EPS relay and blew the sucker out. Every thing from life support to main armament. It destroyed the power conversion system in their warp core and destroyed nearly all their reserve systems. All they’ve got is a few backup battery modules built into their secondary equipment.”

“I assume they tried to repair it?”

“Yeah, but they weren’t able to finish their repairs before the ship encountered another series of plasma discharges. They were able to tap what little battery power they had and direct it to the maneuvering systems to correct their flight, but that just drained even more power.” Ron tapped at the image on the screen, “Odd thing is, they could have routed the power they had left to life support and kept several compartments safe for at least a week…but they didn’t.”

“Ran out of time?” Ben offered.

“No, they seem to have chosen not to. The time index on the modifications is well in advance of life support failure. They chose some other system over keeping themselves alive…”

Ben could think of very little that he would have opted to keep running over life support. But then, he was thinking as a human. Who knew what a Gorn thought of as being more important? Maybe they’d been on an important intel mission, or some kind of defensive deployment.

“Could the system they chose be related to life support?”

“Can’t tell. The UT doesn’t make the translation. There’s some kind of symbol that isn’t repeated in any other context.” Smith explained.

Ben leaned into the console, examining the image before him to see if it might jar some memory. Nothing came to mind. “Can you locate this system?”

Ronald began to slowly tap at the controls. The image on the monitors began to change, resolving outward into a side view of the forked ship, then zooming in again. The symbol Noah had mention blinked in blue above a compartment highlighted. “Three decks down, three sections aft. A heavily armored area in the belly of the ship.”

Ben grasped the two officers on the shoulder.

“That’s where we’re headed folks.”

***


And I leave off again for more response, like an adulation/nit-pick junkie!

Gimme! SNORT...ahhhh.

Seriously, tho, I hope y'all that actually still visit this site enjoy whats posted.

--thu guv!

[Grim Reaper]

You don't have to hope, you know I do. I don't know if you were aiming for it, but I did not get a sence of urgency of that strange new contact. Feels a bit odd imho: you tell there is something coming, but that's all in this part.

[Governor Ronjar]

Don't guess I was aiming for anything in particular. Took about 2 weeks to write this one, I think...

I wasn't feeling any particular urge to forbode at what that something was. Everyone who knows Murphy's Law should know who's coming. Should have even guess it when they found the escort ship... I don't try to pretend my audience is dumb. I hate it when authors do. I've stopped reading books because of it.

Kepp 'em comin!

--thu guv!

[Scottish Andy]

Another good installment, even though your speeling mistooks drive me nuts.

(Bellow: he bellowed across the valley; below: "Look out below!"; Sight: the phaser beam is a line-of-sight weapon; site: "Come visit my bloody website, you slackers!; etc)

I did want to point something out, though:

The monitors were dead or showing red default messages.

What, exactly, do Gorn default messages look like? I do know what effect you were going for, and it worked well. I got an image of the abandoned Regula I station in STII:TWoK. However, it was jarrng as it seemed you were telling it from the point of view of the boarding party, who later had to use a UT to translate screens.

May want to have made that as a narrator-style text, or use another method.

[Governor Ronjar]

Not really sure what to say bout that, Andy... I've rewritten this reply twice and still don't know how to come across.

Maybe I suck, but I don't see what the apparent POV problem is...

I went ahead and reread the post of the chapter. Maybe the format it gets posted in takes something away. La'ra might be able to answer that one since I e-mailed him stories 1-4... 

About the monitors...

Does it really matter?  I've seen worse faux paux (sp?) make it onto the screen, let alone into a novel. I imagine a default screen universally has some commonalities thru any species... A blank screen...Repeated flashing of one single digit/symbol... A picture of a pissed-off Gorn...whatever...

I'm glad you got what I was going for. I was trying for a bit of TWOK mixed with a bit of 'Event Horizon', minus the horror angle. Even wnet looking for a point when Mister Thomas would just stop and say: "This ship is f*cked!" But decided against it.

And yes...I can't spell. But, so far as I am concerned, no one for the Ilses can either. Y'all spell armor with a 'u'... Seems like something learned from the French...

Don't stop nit-picking my stuff...and don't take my response as an angry one. I'm just not getting your point. The POV seems fine to me. La'ra will undoubtedly agree with you here, maybe he can explain it tomorrow when I see him... 

So far as my spellin' goes...I'm from Arkansas. You're lucky I CAN spell... Even just enough to get the point across! You should see the school La'ra and I came from. We call this town 'Mount Ignorant'!!!! For a reason. 


y'all toss me some more comments! Hell, gripe at me over the points above. Maybe the rest of ya can beat some smarts into me.

I have been enjoying writing these, though life has a way of draining the fun outta near every thing at times...

[Commander La'ra]

About the monitors...

Does it really matter?  I've seen worse faux paux (sp?) make it onto the screen, let alone into a novel. I imagine a default screen universally has some commonalities thru any species... A blank screen...Repeated flashing of one single digit/symbol... A picture of a pissed-off Gorn...whatever...

That's what I was thinking, too.  Some things are probably universal...or at least universal amongst races similar enough in outlook to use screens and similar starship designs, recognize some of the same concepts ("I'll be merciful and quick!"), etc...and I imagine an 'oops' screen might be obvious even if you didn't speak the language.

One of the dumbest moments in Star Trek is when Kruge's XO in ST III doesn't recognize a countdown.

So far as my spellin' goes...I'm from Arkansas. You're lucky I CAN spell...

You can spell.  You're just have the same patience for proofreading your own stuff that I do (ie: none whatsoever).  Nine times out of ten when I say 'you spell this that way', you look at the word I'm indicating and say "Oh yeah.  Was writing fast then.  Don't give a damn."