Topic: #11: White Rabbits  (Read 18450 times)

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Offline Governor Ronjar

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#11: White Rabbits
« on: August 01, 2007, 09:19:57 pm »
Alrighty...

I've gotten pretty far along in my 'Andy-Proofing on #11. I'm pretty proud of this one, so I hope it doesn't suck.

Also, there is a rather explicit scene of sexual nature in it. I want a poll among y'all as to whether to edit it out or let it stand in the post version. If ANYONE disapproves, I can quite easily take it out without loss to the story itself. Lemme know. But for now...


Star Trek
White Rabbits
CH. 1





Doffed of his rank and even his uniform, Chevis Ford awoke in a strange bed with a strange woman. Ford stretched, his tired limbs reaching across cool expanses of satin sheets. His bunk aboard Endeavour, hell, any Starfleet bunk…lacked the space to stretch in this manner. It felt so good and so…novel.

The light coming through the terrestrial window showed softly down on the wakening starship captain. It felt so odd to see a sun rise up slowly over the far horizon of a planet. So many more times, he’d seen the stars of uncounted systems grow larger on his view screen or pass by a porthole in his cabin. Oft times, he was greeted by a beautiful vista as his ship created an artificial sunrise. But they never looked quite the same from orbit. Ford decided to rise and make it out to the porch of the condo to watch that sun rise up.
Chevy looked aside, laying eyes on the equally beautiful woman that slept sprawled at his side. She was a slim, tall black woman with aquiline features and wide, expressive eyes. He’d been drawn to her instantly when he’d met her the night before. No other time had seen him picking a woman up at a tavern. Last night had been different. He’d followed his desire, his lusts. He’d asked her name. Anya. He had spoken with her for hours. Flirted. Made his move, invited her home with him.

With a lovely, hungry smile, she’d said yes.

His career and the romantic thought of loving a Starfleet officer had probably attracted her as much as his questionable attempts at wooing. He didn’t feel too bad about the realization. She’d been there for the same thing he’d been after. Alcohol and sex.

Ford couldn’t help but smirk at the sudden thought. Yeah, he’d been after cheap, unworthy diversions last night. After what he’d been through in the last year, he’d deserved it. I haven’t had a damn leave in so long, he thought. Not a real leave.

Careful not to rouse Anya, Ford slid himself to the edge of the bed and let the sheet slid aside. He bent to tug on a pair of briefs and then his slacks. He laughed silently as he compared the lovely woman’s youth to his age and skinny-ass legs. She sure looked a hell looked a lot better than him. He shuffled away from the bedroom, passing through open doorways into the kitchen. He gave his Pekinese dog China an affectionate pat. Passing by the appliances, he called quietly, “Coffee.” The machine immediately clicked into action and began brewing the first pot.

Ford eased out onto the wooden planks of the back porch. The rear of the rented condo faced east, giving him the perfect chance to watch as the small blue sun rose over the long expanse of green ocean stretching out into the corona of bright white and yellow sky above. Ford felt nearly timeless as he settled down onto the swing left of the back door. His dark brown eyes gazed out at the spectacle being granted him.

The small star slowly ascended from the cover of calm waves; he could hear Anya rouse and murmur softly. The bedclothes rustled and moaned as she moved across them and pulled on some of her clothing. Chevy privately wondered how long she would venture to stay.

The sun was half risen, blazing in pale azure glory as Anya emerged from within the condo. She was just a breath taking as the sunrise. She wore only the long, billowy dress shirt from the night before. It was the color of the star beyond and came just down to mid-thigh. Her dark complexion contrasted beautifully with the color of the blouse and the effect made her eyes shine like nothing else. Chevis found himself looking from the rising star to the statuesque female posing before him, arms crossed as she looked out over the ocean. Her long, tightly curled hair blew a bit in the light breeze. Her silky blouse fluttered, forming around her curves again and again, teasing his senses.

“You’re missing the rest of your sunrise,” Anya told him.

Chevy smiled, glancing up to the coy, angular eyes dancing back at him.

“Am I?”

She made a laughing, throaty sound and turned toward him. The tails of her shirt blew apart, showcasing her hips and thighs… Anya came close and straddled him. Her face snuggled close as she wriggled in snuggly to him. Her small hands touched his chest atop a mass of scars, palms down. Ford had been shot there twenty years back by an Orion thug. The scars were sooth but wide and obvious. Some things never faded. Anya didn’t seem to mind.

Ford’s hands slid up this woman’s thighs, over her hips and waist. They met at the small of her back and held her tighter. She felt good, and despite the things they’d done the night before, she smelled good too. He kissed her forehead, something that seemed like a very ‘old-man’ thing to do with a woman a third his age. She couldn’t be more than twenty-five.

Today he was fifty-seven.

The Earth Date was January 26, 2294.

At almost sixty, he was beginning to wonder seriously just how much longer he had left. In command, in the service…in life… Such thoughts were not abnormal, especially for a man who routed danger as frequently as any Starfleet captain did. Things would eventually begin coming to an end. And if many more things like his torture at Jarn’s hands came to pass, those endings would come much, much faster.

Sitting with a beautiful, sexy woman in one’s lap made it difficult to dwell on such things. This was the whole purpose behind coming here. To get away from the harsh realities of his service life and forget what had happened only two weeks before. Prescription Zatronex and Apipholine could only do so much. Nothing cured like release.

“Are you enjoying New Plymouth, Chevy?” Anya asked him. Her lips brushed his fleshy Adam’s Apple. She worked her way softly up to his ear and licked it playfully. In response, his hands slid up to cup her breasts. They were just larger than his grip could cover. She laughed, not quite a giggle, as he fondled her.

“Oh-yeah…”

“Why are you so tense?”

Chevy smiled for her, nuzzled in to kiss her neck.

“Stay that way, usually. Been a hellova year so far.”

“How long do you think it’ll take to fix your ship?”

“Don’t have a clue. They might scrap her for all I know. They were barely gettin’ her into the dock when I pulled up stakes and left.” He sighed. She was naturally interested in the Starfleet Captain’s space ship. He really didn’t want to think about it, though. This was his home they were talking about. Endeavour’s fate was very much up in the air. He could return to 23 and find himself homeless.

Anya leaned back, very careful not to put too much weight on his legs or upset the swing that creaked gently about them. The wind again tossled her hair ever so slightly. With the light of Plymouth’s sole star behind her, her could see the entire shape of her upper body through the silk of her shirt. God, this was a beautiful woman! She looked down at him in earnest interest and concern. Her apparent attachment surprised him, but in the good way. He found that he enjoyed the feeling…maybe even needed it…

“You don’t want to talk about it.” She said without a hint of question.

“Not really. Been through a lot. Came to New Prov to rest up.”

Was he putting too light a veneer on it all? Should he confess that he might be mentally unbalanced to a woman he’d known for less than fourteen hours and already bedded down with? Or should he act as though nothing was wrong at all? An old saying came to his mind. ‘Moderation in all things…’

“I need to put some things to rest.” He decided to leave it at that for now.

Anya nodded. Her brown eyes softened, full of understanding. He reached up and caressed her shoulder blades and ran his hands down her smooth sides to her slim hips. She was a goddess. Still smiling, the colonist separated herself from her perch and returned to the kitchen.

Ford remained long enough to realize that the new day’s sun was becoming much too bright for his battered, fleet-officer eyes. He stood slowly, feeling every creek and groan in his joints. He was indeed getting older. Funny, he hadn’t thought about it much before today.

Anya was in the middle of the kitchen as he entered. She was pouring him a cup of coffee. He noted with wry humor that she had claimed his own mug as hers this morning. The Jolly Roger and black flag smiled back at him from her cupped hands. She looked back to him and offered him the spare, plain white cup. “I don’t know how you take it…”

He took the mug with a wink, again feeling old at such a gesture. He moved past and opened the refrigerator. He set about mucking up his java with way too much sugar and cream for the average man and began to stir it all home. He turned back to find her grinning coyly at him over the rim of her cup.

“I thought my brother was the only one who did that.”

“What?”

“Drank his coffee that sweet.”

Ford took a short sip of his hot brew. Yup, it was sweet.

“I don’t really like coffee.” He admitted. “I just drink it for caffeine and the crap I pour into it.”

She just kept smiling and drank her coffee. Ford wondered what it would be like to live with a woman like her for the rest of his life. She was pleasant, understanding and kind. And a vixen. He barely knew her, but felt so at home now he couldn’t help but dream a bit. Both his previous marriages had failed miserably. The first had left him for another man and the second had just considered him too boring when he was home. Someone like Anya, however, might actually be able to put up with him. It gave him something pleasant to consider as he headed for the living room to turn on the holonews.
***


There's a teaser. Different pace and different kind of tale. Hope y'all enjoy!

--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 Czar Mohab

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Re: #11: White Rabbits
« Reply #1 on: August 02, 2007, 05:10:51 am »
In the world of sexually explicit things, it fits into a network primetime show for level of "sexuality"... so I doubt others would have that much of an issue.

Teaser? Yeah, it is. Scrap the E? Better not, still bankin on new toys for that beasty.

Czar "There was a thought about the coffee that goes kinda hand in hand with his new woman" Mohab
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Offline Commander Maxillius

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Re: #11: White Rabbits
« Reply #2 on: August 02, 2007, 06:44:19 am »
I didn't see anything bad there.  But then my limits are a fair bit higher than most...
I was never here, you were never here, this conversation never took place, and you most certainly did not see me.

Offline Commander La'ra

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Re: #11: White Rabbits
« Reply #3 on: August 02, 2007, 07:40:16 am »
I didn't see anything I'd think was objectionable, but then, this is me we're talking about, so mine is probably not the best opinion to follow.  ;D

Liking this so far.  It is a very different pace from your other stories, but it's fun to stretch your legs, see what you can do with a different style.  So far this one seems to suit you.

Incidentally, your descriptions of Anya are sexy as hell.  Made the toes tingle, which probably means my work schedule is keeping me away from the woman a little TOO much, but it's still cool that I can get that from text. :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

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Re: #11: White Rabbits
« Reply #4 on: August 02, 2007, 04:05:20 pm »
Think y'all might have misunderstood me. Said 'sex scene' doesn't appear till the last chapter. I wanted a poll of folks to help me decide whether to keep it in or leave it out. I wasn't speaking of the scene of fondling above.

Said scene isn't so lude as direct instructions on the act itself. But it ain't as tame as the above, either.

And yes, this story is a stretch in a new direction, but as you once have forgotten, La'ra, this is not the first non-combat story I've done. [referring to a comment months back in R/L where you wanted to 'see me do a story without any combat']. Of course, after writing the Thomas-Rell fight, I'd like to work in more fisticuffs...

Thanks all for the comments. Be back soon!

--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 Commander La'ra

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Re: #11: White Rabbits
« Reply #5 on: August 02, 2007, 09:48:08 pm »
I didn't forget.  I said it was different from your usual. ;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 Czar Mohab

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Re: #11: White Rabbits
« Reply #6 on: August 03, 2007, 09:50:26 pm »
When it comes to that sex scene, I think you'd be better to worry about the lurkers then the regulars... I'm always up for a well written and mostly tasteful obscene scene ;)

Czar "What, me lurk?" Mohab
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Offline Governor Ronjar

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Re: #11: White Rabbits
« Reply #7 on: August 05, 2007, 09:47:42 pm »
Good, good. Thus far, unless halted by other, sage advice, the scene will remain when time comes to post it. Till then...

CH. 2





The entire radial corridor stretching the forward length of USS Endeavour’s forward saucer on Deck Eight was full of the noise and signs of heavy work. Droplights illuminated places that were without power. There were many such places. Long winding conduits, cables and hoses ran the span of the floor, looping and crossing amongst themselves. Men hunkered before exposed structural members along the walls, laser torches and gamma welders blazing as they cut away burnt and twisted members to replace them with new material. Entire trunks full of ODN cables and EPS taps were exposed to view as technicians picked through their innards to trace down faulty leads. The work was progressing hecticly and looked like utterly uncontrolled chaos.

To Lieutenant Commander Ronald Davenport it looked like the best celebration he could have wished to stroll into. It meant his home was being put back in order. Both he and Lieutenant Commander Xia Tolin were picking their way across the hot, confined deck, headed toward the ravaged bow as they surveyed the progress of the first day’s repair teams. They paused at various points of interest, or contention, to aid the workers there as they struggled to rework the badly damaged ship around them.
After one such pause along their tour, Xia found herself pressing close to her lover and standing on tiptoes to shout at him. “I can’t believe Sharp okayed the reconstruction of this ship, Ron. She’s in the worst shape I’ve ever seen a starship!”

Ron regarded her with an expression bordering on insult.

“She’s not that bad off. You ever read about the beating the old NX-01 got in Xindi space? She was just as badly hulled and they salvaged her.”

“They didn’t have a choice.” Xia shot back, looking suddenly down to avoid falling over a gas-hose snaking from compartment to compartment. “Archer had to patch his ship up while fifty light years from the nearest help. This one has seen her day. We should pull the working equipment off and haul her to Ralna Four—“

Ron faced the Andorian woman fully, towering over her with his greater height and mass. His finger waved in front of her nose. “Now damn it! You’re the Chief Engineer! YOU are the one that’s supposed to be speaking on behalf of the Endeavour’s defense! Not trying to get me to sign her over to the scrap heap!”

“This is a waste of resources, Love.” Tolin countered with just as much vehemence. Her hands found the swell of her hips and planted themselves. “Sharp can order the Excalibur here inside of a month, or the Excelsior. There are plenty of command ships. We don’t have to pull in every work detail from the station to piece this thing back together.”

“She deserves better than that!”

Xia shook her white maned head.

“This attachment and sentiment you human’s place on ships is way beyond me, Ron. She’s a piece of metal.”

“You want me to go back to the Admiral and tell him I was wrong, we should just scrap her before we have to shed a lil’ sweat?” Ron was becoming pink in the face, and it wasn’t from the heat in the hallway. He looked back to his girlfriend with a mix of betrayal and anger. “Is that what you want me to do?”

“You suggested to Sharp that Endeavour was salvageable? I thought the sector commander was supposed to supervise the inspection and give the final approval.”

“He did supervise the inspection… from his office!” Davenport set back off on their trip through the forward length of the saucer section. “He and Chevy told me to take care of the inspection and render my decision. So I did.”

“And that’s why the inspection only lasted three hours. You sent the okay without really caring how much labor and material it took to rebuild this ship.” Tolin was smiling despite herself. It sounded like such a human thing to do. Like raising a sunken ship from the seabed when you were able to build much superior ones to defend yourself.
“I did, and you should be applauding! She’s not hopeless! I’m gonna see her back on her feet if I have to tow her out of this dock with my bare hands!”

Xia shook her head, letting the subject rest. Ronald was passionate about his ship. He was probably questioning just what kind of engineer she could be if she didn’t want to save her own ship from the axe. The thought made her smile. Seeing this vessel as anything more than a collection of materials and inanimate objects was quite beyond her. It was a machine. A great and glorious one to be sure, but it had none of the spirit that Ron and many of the crew attributed to her. But, looking about at the uncountable heads stooping about her and clambering about the insides of the ship, she saw every bit of that same devotion among the human officers and enlisted. About a quarter of the workers were Endeavour crew. Most had given up reassignment to put this ship back together. Others had also given up leave time to be here.
The crew would see their ship back out in the great beyond, doing her job. They spoke of the ship as though it were a member of some big, 810-person family. A family member in need of their help. Tolin paused mentally as she followed behind the Chief of Operations and thought the concept over. Could there actually be some purpose behind such a mind-set? Was it beneficial?

“Now here’s a man who knows how to treat a lady!” Davenport suddenly exclaimed over the din of the working repair teams. Tolin looked up to see that they had run into the coverall-clad former helmsman, Lieutenant Bronstien. The skinny, unshaven young human grinned back at them from beneath a virtual mask of grease and soot.
“Hey, I didn’t touch her, who ever she was!” Johnathan shot back at them jovially. Tolin could not help but smile. The man’s charisma was infectious. One had to be made of stone to dislike this human.

“That ain’t what she said!” Ronald bantered in return. He clasped a broad hand on the filthy youth’s shoulder. “You deserve a medal for getting our girl back here in as few pieces as you did.”

Johnathan shrugged.

“Hell, all I did was absorb radiation and play with broken equipment for two days. Constellation did the real work. If she hadn’t shown up when she did, this old girl would be all over the place. An’ I’d probably be dead.”

Ron grinned, tight lipped. After tussling the man’s shoulder, he turned aside and led Tolin and Bronstien down the last stretch of corridor to where it ended in a T-junction. To the right was where Whisker’s pub had been. Now, a gaping, razor-toothed maw opened out onto the black of star littered space. Only a dock generated force field kept them from the ravages of vacuum. Johnathan shook his head and averted his eyes.

“That’s why I don’t come over here. That sh*t just messes with me!”

Tolin smiled over to the younger officer.

“The dock’s forcefields are completely safe. You could jump-kick that field and be thrown back into the ship.”

Bronstien shook his head vehemently.

“Oh hell no! Me knowin’ that and doin’ it are two different things entirely.”

“Coward.”

“Hey,” the helmsman held up a semi-threatening finger, then lowered it. “I don’t have a good come-back. But when I do, I’m gonna let you have it.”

The three of them smiled back and forth, then turned back to the gaping chasm of rent metal that yawned out at them. This had been the sight of two separate photonic detonations. The lounge that used to be Whisker’s had been torn to pieces. No furniture or any of the normal wares usually found within could be seen. Only the blackened hulk of the aft bar remained. The plaque bearing the stuffed fish Commodore Ford and Commander Thomas had brought with them was gone.

“How are the outer hull structural latches in your sector?” Davenport inquired of Bronstien. The young man moved closer, hands tucked into his pockets.

“Mostly intact, Commander. We shouldn’t have to replace too many when we rebuild the hull.”

It was Tolin’s turn to interject. “The latching modules in engineering are a different story. They’re severely weakened, and they weren’t built for the mass of the metal you’re looking to employ there anyway.”

“We need the new armor.” Ron returned. He said it as a matter of fact rather than a point of contention. With all of the engagements Endeavour had already been through, the extra protection would be a blessing.

“Then I’m going to have to replace every single buckle and reinforce the main framework. Otherwise we’ll tear the hull open at the first twenty-G turn we make.”
The chief of ops didn’t look happy, but Xia didn’t think it was totally due to what she was telling him. Ron had been slightly more aloof from her for a couple of weeks now. Ever since she’d brought him to realize she wasn’t quite as committed to their relationship as he had apparently been. She could feel the distance between them more acutely than ever before.

“Whatever it takes,” he was telling her now. “I want a good estimate on how long we’re gonna be working on the girl by the time the Skipper gets back from R&R. What systems need the most?”

Xia paused to consider the question. The entire ship was in utter shambles. Where to begin?

“My main concern is the condition of the outer hull, Commander. The Ya’wenn have good weaponry, but their targeting is poor. They just poured on the fire and let their weapons fall where they would. Any vital component they struck was just a stroke of luck. As a result, most of the key internals are still intact. The EPS grid is severed in several locations, but we can get to that before we begin laying in new hull panels.”

“So, hull first.”

“Aye.”

“How long till the Mark Four phasers arrive?”

“They’re still being pulled from the mounts on the station. And it’s going to be hell building the capacitors for them.” Tolin was even more dubious about this last modification to the ship. Such weaponry wasn’t intended for a starship.

Ron turned back to Bronstien. The helmsman was turned toward a flickering computer access terminal that had just sputtered to life. The lieutenant was poking at it like it were a new life form found on a deserted world. “How long are you with us, Lieutenant?”

Johnathan turned back to the commander.

“Till the Tenseiga gets back from patrol, I reckon. She left before we got this bitch pulled back here and I think she has about twelve days left on her route.”

“Then you’re back with Captain Thomas?”

“Yup. I hope the Admiral finds him a full time XO. I ain’t ready for that job yet. I’d as soon let Surall keep it.”

“She is the senior lieutenant on board.” Xia ventured.

Ron nodded to both of them in agreement.

“In the meantime, Lieutenant, you belong to me. I know how Captain Jeremy treats guests aboard his ship. Since you didn’t belong to him, he let you just lounge around. But I’m gonna make you earn your pay. I want you in charge of Tolin’s engineering repair gangs on the outer hull. Start by releasing what’s left of the hull panels and follow her orders on how to replace the buckles. If we’re lucky, we can get those two items totally finished before Tenseiga gets back.”

Bronstien smiled, standing rail straight as he snapped off an archaic salute.

“Aye, aye, sir! Ready to do whatever, sir!”

“Good man.” Ron glanced to Tolin. “He’s all yours, Engines.”


'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

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Re: #11: White Rabbits
« Reply #8 on: August 05, 2007, 09:48:47 pm »
BAH! 20000 characters my ass!

CH.2 [part 2]


Admiral Sharp watched in silence as the long, brown hulled Vulcan ship pulled up to the docking port and made soft contact with the collar. The long, cylindrical-hulled ship was drawn closer to the space station as the final attachments to their hulls were accomplished and docking finished.

A buzz sounded over the inner lock as its doors slowly drew apart. Ambassador Spock stepped slowly past the threshold and bowed slightly to the Admiral. Sharp held his hand aloft in the Vulcan greeting, which was returned. The two made their way into the interior of the heavily armored station without escort or assistance.

“What news from the Ya’wenn homeworld, Ambassador?”

The wizened Vulcan looked sternly back to the flag officer. He looked tired, which one did not often find in a member of his species. Dark circles lined beneath his eyes. “The situation there is one of controlled chaos, Admiral. Our battle with the forces of Kovarn did much to level the playing field for the legitimate government, but the acting Premier is finding that several of his out-lying colonies have fallen in to support Jarn. Government ships have set up a perimeter of control around their system. It took four days of argument to get into orbit of the planet, and that was only under armed escort.”

“Who’s their acting Premier?”

“A Governor-General named Heedis. He formerly controlled a large continent on their world and much of their infantry.” The two of them continued on down the corridor at a fast, measured pace. They came to a series of turbolifts that would have taken them anywhere in the Starbase they wanted to go. Instead, they entered a car and keyed the system to shut it down.

Now they had a place where they could speak entirely in private.

“So Ya’wenn Primus is under military control?”

“In effect, yes. Their system of government seemed built to switch power to the leading military governor upon the death of the Premier. They had no post of vice president or its equivalent. Civilian life seems little affected save for interstellar shipping, which is now being escorted and run through intensive security checking.”
“Do you think this Governor-General can get things back under control without our help?”

“I cannot say. Heedis was quite adverse to telling me many of his plans. He seemed highly distrustful and on the border of paranoia.” Spock seemed to draw within himself in thought. Finally his deep voice continued. “I do not believe he will cooperate with us on any level.”

“So he’s not going to stop Jarn if he hops the border again.”

“No. Heedis cares only for protecting his homeworld.”

Sharp stared ahead into the deep blue lift doors as he thought about how this would affect things in the coming months. Jarn had lost several ships during their engagement with Endeavour; a battle that was now being called ‘The Battle of Tempest’. Some of the more cynical were calling it ‘Ford’s Folly’. The members of the later camp believed Ford’s greatest mistake had been in following Spock’s suggestion of sending away the majority of his fleet when tending to the alien Premier.

Sharp remained apart from siding with either opinion. He had not been in tactical command of the situation and could not say whether he would have followed the ambassador’s lead or not. Either way may not have made much of a difference given the long odds the fleet had been up against.

“We may have to take more direct action against Jarn’s forces,” Sharp stated suddenly. “The Tenseiga’s foray into Kovarn space allowed his science officer to make some detailed scans of the Warden’s outer system. He has an extensive starship construction yard that is easily capable of launching two of his escorts and one of his bombardment ships…per month.”

Sharp silenced as the full intent of his words sank in. Spock’s brows arched in classic Vulcan style as he thought the implications of such tactical capacity over. He seemed to nod to himself a bit, then looked back to the dark skinned admiral. “What are our current estimates of their strength?”

“Between Tenseiga’s scans and the observations of our patrol forces around the Tempest, we know Jarn commands no less than thirty escort size ships and probably two of the bombardment cruisers.”

“Then you are thinking about a strategic strike against Jarn’s fortifications?”

“I am. The final decision isn’t mine, however.” Sharp pressed a key to send the turbo elevator back along its way toward the operations level. “What do you believe the reaction from this Heedis would be?”

The ambassador could not easily answer that.

“I am uncertain as to his ultimate response to such an overture… But it is probable that any action taken against Jarn could only be a boon to his position. Perhaps even give him the edge in his government’s conflict against the rebels.”

“Have the two forces actually engaged in combat?”

The lift came to a rest and opened on the ops level before Spock was able to answer. The older Vulcan crossed his heavily sleeved arms and bent his head low. “I believe they have, at least once. And not to the legitimate government’s favor. I overheard at least one comment from an advisor that Heedis has lost at least three ships. Protecting what…I am uncertain.”

The maroon clad Admiral led his guest through the multilevel control room of the monstrous space station. At length they entered the commanding officer’s office and took seats about the general issue desk. Sharp sighed out a long breath as he pondered how best to proceed in these matters.

The Ya’wenn government did not want to cooperate or even truly communicate with the Federation or its envoys. They didn’t even seem to want Starfleet military support. Had they asked for such, Spock would have been sure to convey that issue. If he were to allow the situation to evolve without Starfleet interference, there was no way to tell whether the legitimate government would win the day or even survive the coming conflict. The Federation might find itself dealing with Jarn as the new ruling Premier…

“How much longer do you intend to remain in direct control of this sector?” Spock posed.

Sharp kneaded his pale, wizened hands together and thought about it. As the Chief of Starfleet Operations, he wasn’t supposed to be out here commanding fleet assets on such a small scale. The movements of the entire fleet were up for his command decisions. Those duties had been heaped upon his subordinates over a month prior when Sharp had decided to come out here for a prolonged ‘visit’.

“As soon as Ford returns from shoreleave and acclimates to the duties I’m going to lay out for him, I’ll head back to Earth. Then he can handle things.”

“You are certain?”

“You doubt the Commodore’s abilities?”

“He is an atypical officer. I am uncertain as to his capacity to deal with the diplomatic demands this sector’s situation will require of him.”

“Then let me set you straight on the Commodore’s abilities.” Sharp said with a stern stare. “Ford commanded an Oberth-Class science ship for six years as he traveled through Klingon and Romulan space to return her home from the wrong end of a terminal wormhole. He had to fight, connive and barter his way through over one hundred sectors of unfriendly space. He and Mister Thomas were able to make more friends on their trip than enemies. And they got home with only three casualties to show for it.”

The exact details of Ford’s command aboard the USS Stephen Hawking were classified, as Starfleet never officially admitted the ship was across the Klingon border. Her being hurled there had been an accident, but the diplomatic situation then with the Empire had been a very tenuous one.

Spock considered the admiral’s words and looked past him out the main view port. Perhaps Ford could indeed handle the situation. He was a surprisingly capable leader. The ambassador eyed Sharp measuringly. “I am unable to remain in this sector. I communicated my reports and advice to the Federation Council during my vessel’s return here. Their decision was for me to make my final report and confer with you my observations in person and depart within the day. The Third Khitomer Conference will convene in seven days and I must return to Paris to speak with my own colleagues.”

The admiral nodded.

“I understand. We’d better get busy with the hard facts then…”
***


I'd always wanted to write a drydock repair kind of scene. The oportunity fell into my lap without planning ahead for it and I reworked an existing conversation between Tolin and Davenport into what you see at the beginning of the chapter. Then I worked in Bronstien to give him some lines [unlike what they ever did for Mayweather and the plethora of Helmsmen from Enterprise-D] and have some comedy.

Working him into the scene also laid the ground work for some of the character development that happens later in this story and stories to come.

Anywho, hope y'all like! Read on!

--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 Czar Mohab

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Re: #11: White Rabbits
« Reply #9 on: August 05, 2007, 10:34:13 pm »
Hmmm... Can you say it with me? Endy gets new toys!!!

Czar "Was hopin so" Mohab

P.S. Good continuance, too. Liked the 'tour' through the damaged section.
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Offline Commander La'ra

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Re: #11: White Rabbits
« Reply #10 on: August 06, 2007, 07:33:02 am »
Also liked the tour and the description of the nature of the damage Endeavour recieved.  The conversation between Xia and Davenport was well done, and underlined the 'distance' you later mention Xia feeling.  I also like the difference between Andorian and human mindsets at play.

As for new toys...heh.  You never did like that whole 'well why CAN'T I mount it on a ship?!?' thing, did ya'? :2gun:

Feed us some more.  Oh, and...

Quote
“Sharp can order the Excalibur here inside of a month, or the Excelsior."

Thanks. ;D :thumbsup:
"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

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Re: #11: White Rabbits
« Reply #11 on: August 06, 2007, 03:27:27 pm »
As for new toys...heh.  You never did like that whole 'well why CAN'T I mount it on a ship?!?' thing, did ya'? :2gun:



Well, in DS9, they mounted a planetary based disruptor cannon on a fre9ighter that was smaller than a B'rel-Class BoP. I think Endeavour can handle a couple 'Phaser-4's' [as SFBers might call 'em]. Besides... I like the TOS and ENT image of those big guns firing from the bottom of the saucer. While the TMP era ships have phasers in those general locations...they were just too close together and different looking for my imagination to employ the same 'effect'. And, like I said in a previous post, Endeavour is my Defiant. Just a really big, slow turning, hard to accellerate Defiant... Like the Czar says, new toys!

And of course I was gonna mention/use Excalibur. Can't go without the Larry/Rog world's sister ship for the 2007... Do you still want the NCC to be 2001? I haven't made it Rog-Canon yet.

--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 Czar Mohab

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Re: #11: White Rabbits
« Reply #12 on: August 06, 2007, 05:36:13 pm »
I haven't a clue as to your background with SFB, but they did develop a 'neat and tidy' work around for ships wanting a Ph-4 but wanting to keep within the rules of the game (Note, I like the idea of bigger phasers. I hate that some SFB/SFC ships could power them but don't have them... so I generally make that happen ;))(I also think that the rule was based on the size of the mount and the force of the shock when fired, I'm not 100% on this one, but I do know that it made sense to me). The solution was the Phaser-M, or mega phaser. Not quite as powerful as a 4, not as weak as a 1. It can be found in module P6, along with micro and heavy photons, and some others I have forgotten. Its just my 2cp.

Seriously, an Exy class with better guns, should tear through ALOT with not much effort. Looking forward to seeing the poor sap captain that thinks hes got the edge over Endy...

Czar "BOOM!" Mohab, who notes that an experimental ship for OP is going to be tested just to see...

P.S. I don't know if you've said so before, but what is Endy's power curve? Standard for the class or is there more? And if more, how much more...?

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Offline Governor Ronjar

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Re: #11: White Rabbits
« Reply #13 on: August 06, 2007, 09:26:10 pm »
P.S. I don't know if you've said so before, but what is Endy's power curve? Standard for the class or is there more? And if more, how much more...?

[/color]

I am not an SFC/B fan by any means, though I have played the hell out of OP and 3. But I'm one of those who wished the phasers recharged in like 2 seconds or so and I play the game on Speed 11. The standard pace of the game aggravates the piss out of me. So I can't give you specifics on what 'power curve' Endeavour has.

I my 'universe' that I write in, Endeavour has a standard 'power curve'. She has a slightly new reactor after the refit at 23, which is more efficient and can help her maintain maximum warp a bit longer. You can say she has more power to play with if you want. So far as charging said "PH-4s", the capacitor system they'll build for them will be good for a few shots [MY capacitors don't just hold a single shot]. But recharge is gonna be a bitch. In game terms, I'd say she'd have to be underpowered for the guns. They'll play around with this more in the future...  With the new armor, Endeavour will accelerate and turn even more sluggishly than before. There'll also be other settling in problems. But I'm not gonna elaborate as that would be 'spoiling'.

Please note [and I could rant on this for paragraphs, and DID in the original draft of this response] that my Excelsior does NOT fit the BCH model of SFC. She'd be more like the BB. In the interest of not seeming like I'm pissing on SFB fans, I'll just leave it at that.

Hope my answer helps.

--thu guv "Who in Czar-fashion notes that he could go on MUCH longer on this, but it'd be a really big rant..."
'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

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Re: #11: White Rabbits
« Reply #14 on: August 07, 2007, 07:37:09 am »
I cant believe i haven't commented yet on this. But I will. Someday not at work with too many bugs on my name....

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

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Re: #11: White Rabbits
« Reply #15 on: August 07, 2007, 08:21:47 am »
Do you still want the NCC to be 2001? I haven't made it Rog-Canon yet.

Indeed.
"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

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Re: #11: White Rabbits
« Reply #16 on: August 12, 2007, 04:36:42 am »
You know, reading it back and musing about it, i found why i like it. It's because a "minor" incident spiraled into one huge steaming pile of sh*t in such a short time AND having a definite effect on people's lives. That's what I missed in most series (not just trek). Big consequences of relatively minor actions.
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

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Re: #11: White Rabbits
« Reply #17 on: August 12, 2007, 10:20:20 pm »
You know, reading it back and musing about it, i found why i like it. It's because a "minor" incident spiraled into one huge steaming pile of sh*t in such a short time AND having a definite effect on people's lives. That's what I missed in most series (not just trek). Big consequences of relatively minor actions.

 ;D


CH. 3





Chevis Ford stretched out on the cool plastic tubing of his collapsible beach chair and looked out over the impossibly wide vista of ocean before him. The empty beach ran for kilometers on either side of him. On a planet composed of long, winding peninsulas and wide islands and archipelagoes, it was easy to find an empty beach. Even during the tourist season.

Boats shot by on the wind-whipped sea, driven by tall white sails as small crews enjoyed the weather. Sun shone down brightly and gave the beach a warm temperature around eighty-seven degrees Farenheight. A squall or storm line was visible on the horizon, maybe twenty kilometers off. It was moving inland and would be near to Ford’s beach within a couple of hours. He was intent on watching it come.

Out on the water, one small sailboat coasted to a near halt on the choppy waves. Its canvas was being lowered by machine. Ford could not see anyone on deck. ‘Must be going to the head’, Ford thought with a wry grin. ‘I’d probably bring her to a halt if I was the only one aboard her and just had to go…’

The commodore thought back on the night before. Anya had made the entire trip out here to this planet entirely worthwhile. After his problems on 23 with Andrea… A frown creased his face. He’d not wanted to think about his CMO.

Ford had been falling in love with her, he was pretty sure of that. They’d spent every off duty moment in each other’s company. They’d made love nearly every night, reveling in the thought of ‘sneaking’ around in front of the crew. Not that they could really keep their affair secret. But the idea of such a romance was enticing and they merely fueled the masquerade for the fun of it.

Then came his return from imprisonment and torture. She’d run away from him. She would not return his comm messages. The one time he’d come to her quarters, she hadn’t answered the door chime. The computer had given her location as being in her cabin, but she’d refused to speak with him.

So he’d given up on her. Whatever problem she had been having with his supposed death and capture had been terminal to their relationship. He was not able to speak with her about it. No one else had been able to either. Chevy could do nothing about the situation. Save brood about it.

These unwelcome thoughts simmered in the resting officer’s mind as he stared blankly at the wallowing boat a kilometer away from him. He couldn’t wait for Anya to get off her shift at the little curio shop she’d mentioned. He thought about dropping by there to see her before seventeen hundred… But he did not want to seem bothersome. Too much attention might annoy her. She told him she’d drop by his condo later that night.

A tiny flicker of light reflected off something aboard that little boat. Ford squinted through the tinted glass of his shades at the craft, wondering what it could have been. He could make out glass windows along the sides of the cabin of the sailboat. But the flash had been from farther abaft. The flicker came again.

The uneasy feeling of being watched came to him just then. Chevis found the sudden thought humorous. Just who the hell would want to watch a pasty fat guy sitting on the beach? That made him smile. He hoisted up a beer from the ice bucket sitting in the white sand beside him and took a long swig. Besides, even if someone were watching him out there, wasn’t that just what he was doing right back at them? His eyes had barely come off that boat since it had sailed up.

But then, why had that boat come all the way out here just to halt? She hadn’t moved inland with the waves in the ten minutes she’d sat luffing… She must have set anchor. But why there? The occupant wasn’t fishing. There still wasn’t anyone on deck… Unless that dark shape at the stern was a person…

Where the flashing was coming from.

Ford frowned, suddenly feeling self-conscious. Was there some kind of voyeur out there taking a strange interest in him? He tugged at the blue, button-up silk shirt that hung over him. He felt like getting up and leaving. Let the person keep watching an empty beach.

‘Bein’ a guest at Palace D’Jarn done made ya’ paranoid, Chevy,’ the commodore admonished himself. ‘No one’s watchin’ your fat ass.’

Finishing off his Killian’s Red, Ford creaked up out of his chair and turned away from the boat. To hell with them out there. He’d watch his rainstorm from the condo back porch. He gathered his folding chair and beer bucket, abandoning the beach for home…
***





Lieutenant Noah Smith bounded down the long stretch of engineering hull to the point where his friend stood. Lieutenant Bronstien, in his white EVA suit and magnetic boots, stood before a naked rift of internal structure, facing the keel of the Endeavour. As a communications officer, Smith hardly ever got to venture forth on work details such as this. He’d never stepped foot on the outer hull of this ship. He’d only ever been EVA three times before; each of which had been a training exercise. He found this exhilarating.

“Hey, Johnathan!” He called out over the short-range comm frequency. The helmsman turned at the waist and looked back ‘up’ at him. He raised a hand in a short wave and turned back to the trio of work pods that were uncoupling a seven-meter long length of duranium hull paneling from the skeleton of metal beneath it. Noah slowed his low-gravity jaunt and tapped the controls on his belt to increase the magnetic pull of his boots. Now more firmly planted to the ship’s skin, he sidled up along side his friend and chucked him on the shoulder.

“Hey, man. Need any help out here?”

“You’ve never done any of this before.” Bronstien replied. His voice was short and tired sounding. Noah ignored the impolite edge to the pilot’s voice and shrugged.

“Neither have you, compadre. All you’re doing is pointing to which panel you want took out next. They’re doing the real work.”

Johnathan looked sidelong at the comm officer. The face staring back from the lightly tinted visor was one of consternation and tiredness. John had been on the work detail for two days now and had barely stopped. This was the primary reason for Smith’s venture out onto the outer hull. Noah had reached an impasse with rewiring the communications data relay and could not continue work till the engineers installed a proper voltage regulator. So he’d come out here during the wait to help or at least entertain his Academy roommate.

“I’m also spotting for tangled components, damaged buckles and exterior maintenance modules…” The lieutenant sighed over the open comm. “…and other assorted sh*t. I love Commander Davenport.”

“I’ll be sure to spread that around, Lieutenant!” Came a voice Smith did not recognize over the comm link. Noah looked up to one of the free-floating work-bees that were hoisting the blackened hull panel up from the ship. The pilot inside was smiling back from behind his control board as he laughed inaudibly. Noah waved up at the unhelmeted pilot.

“Won’t do ya’ no good, Senior.” Bronstien was bantering back to the engineer. “Everyone knows you’re my hot mama.”

“That’s our lil’ secret, Lieutenant.” The man laughed. “You know how the brass views officer-enlisted fraternization.”

“You keep my secret, Senior, I’ll keep yours.”

“That’s affirmative, LT. I’ll be seein’ ya’.”

The enlisted man gave another wave and began to rotate his pod about above them. The work pod towed the hull panel away with it, leaving the other two to continue. Bronstien ignited a work light and walked slowly to the edge of the chasm and bent down to closely examine the long members of tritanium structure which had just been exposed. He let the light linger on each uncoupled attachment buckle.

“Aren’t we removing those?” Asked Smith.

“I’m looking the base pads over. If they aren’t damaged, all we have to cut off is the buckle.”

“And if they are?”

“Then the job gets a little harder. What’s the news on the main computer?”

“Regulator and processor damage only. The mainframe and memory storage system is intact.” Smith replied. “Got lucky there. I hear the Chief Engineer wants to scrap the old girl…”

Johnathan turned suddenly to look back at him again. His displeasure with the idea was very apparent. “Yeah, I was there for part of that conversation.” He confirmed. “Never heard of an engineer that wanted to haul her own ship to the scrap depot. Bunch of bullsh*t!”

“You sound mighty attached to a ship you were transferred off of.”

The lieutenant’s shoulders sagged a bit. Smith realized then that his friend wasn’t entirely happy with his new assignment. “You don’t like the Tenseiga? I thought you’d like a more maneuverable ship to helm.”

“Kinda got used to this ship…” Johnathan paused. Smith remained silent and let him finish. “Now she’s in pieces… And the woman in charge of putting her back together doesn’t want to!”

“You gonna request a transfer back?”

“I don’t know if I can. It’ll be months before I could anyway. Might not want to then. The Tenseiga’s a fine ship.” The helm officer stood from where he’d hunkered and waved up to the nearest work-bee. Then he pointed to the next hull panel aft of where he was. The pods floated that way with puffs of directed gas and lowered themselves closer to the burnt and pot-marked hull.

The pair of lieutenants watched as the pods extended their mandible arms and reached beneath the flat sheets of thick duranium. Flares of brilliant light burst out in cones, causing the visors of their helmets to darken in response. Johnathan took his tricorder from his belt and snapped it open, scanning as the work-pod pilots sliced through the buckles.

“So we’re gonna armor the hull?” Smith ventured, trying to coax out more conversation. The helm officer’s helmet bobbled with a nod.

“Yeah. Diburnium-Bacinite alloy ablative armor.”

“That’s experimental.”

“We’re getting the first run of it, I hear. On its way from Tellar now.” The lieutenant paused, moving as quickly as he could closer to the threshold between the panel he stood on and the one being cut off. He leaned in and lowered his tricorder head to the flat expanse of metal. “We got a problem!”

“Problem?”

“Yeah… I’m reading a deuterium pocket near the hull…”

“What do we do?”

Johnathan was now waving the work-pods away, stepping as close to the edge of the blazing hot metal as he dared. “Break off! Break off!”
***





Commander Davenport watched the resolving simulation over the shoulder of the chief engineer as she ran the computer terminal before them through the program. On the screen, a plate of silver metal was being stuck by a 2.8-megawatt particle beam and boiling away at the flash point. A graphic to the left of the visual representation showed the particle disintegration as the beam burned its way through the alloy. The heat and radiant energy was being distributed over a wide plane of the armor plate even as it was being burned through.

The two officers had been in the Starbase’s main computer chamber for the last seven hours, diligently examining Starfleet’s experimental information on the new armor Sharp had ordered. They had barely taken a breather or even spoken to each other. The tension of the first few moments had bled away as they’d forced themselves into their work. Neither wanted to address the rift that was developing between them.

“The alloy resists the equivalent of a Type-Eight phaser strike for six seconds without penetration.” Tolin observed as the simulation ended its cycle. She dialed up the program that broke down the atomic structures of the metal during the firing sequence. They analyzed the molecular disruption at a much-slower-than-reality speed. “It’d take a Ya’wenn magnetron cannon nearly twice as long to punch through. They rely much more on thermal radiative effects than the particle disruption of a phaser.”

“Yeah…” Davenport leaned back from the screen and tried to stretch the stiffness from his spine. “But how does it stack up against a photon torpedo?”

“The experiments did not focus on missile ordnance. The armor wasn’t designed to fend off Starfleet technology. Our own weaponry…” Xia didn’t hide the extent of her exasperation over Jarn’s forces gaining Federation weapons.

“We’ll have to come up with our own sims on photonic detonations—“

A loud squalling alarm cut Davenport off mid-sentence. He looked toward the ceiling as Tolin tapped the comm key near her wide console. “Yes?”

“Commanders, there’s been an explosion aboard Endeavour!” Said one of the young ensigns assigned to the operations deck. “Two injuries and one fatality reported!”
***
'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

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Re: #11: White Rabbits
« Reply #18 on: August 13, 2007, 09:15:26 am »
Talk about cliffhanger! The bee pilot / our helmsman Bronstien / our communications officer Smith. If you ask me you could have gone for the anonymous bee pilot, but I think you didn't. I do hope to see some anxiety with our couple before they learn who died though.
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

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Re: #11: White Rabbits
« Reply #19 on: August 13, 2007, 10:13:57 am »
Noah's always getting blown up.

Agree with Grim; great cliffhanger.  I also figure Chevy isn't being paranoid.  But that's because I'm paranoid.
"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