Topic: Second Chances II: The Long, Dusty Trail.  (Read 16306 times)

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Offline Czar Mohab

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Second Chances II: The Long, Dusty Trail.
« on: September 14, 2007, 03:38:05 am »
Well, I guess its time for the next story. I hope this assortment of thoughts through words is well recieved.

Proud to present: Second Chances II: The Long, Dusty Trail:



   Captain’s Log, stardate 11606.2:

   It has been almost two months since Cerberus started her conversion, and I am very pleased to say that, after extensive trials and tests, we are more than ready to begin on our journey into the great unknown.  Our first stop is the remote Trellious System, which hasn’t been visited by Starfleet for almost one hundred years. Cerberus’s new sensor suite will greatly aid in charting this little known system.

   All of the personnel that were injured during our encounter with the ‘Masters’ have finally fully recovered, the last of them being Security Chief Lieutenant O’Kelly. He’s finally adjusted his newly constructed arm, and was eager to return to duty.

   There is a tension aboard ship, but I am fairly certain it is just the crew’s eagerness to return to space. It could also be the fear of the unknown we are about to explore. Time will tell.

   End entry.




   “You can call it the ‘Elevator Evacuator’,” Lieutenant Perkins said, exiting the turbo lift. McDougal looked over his shoulder and watched as Perkins and the helm officer, Lieutenant Michaels, walked onto the bridge and to the forward stations.

   “It did clear them all out in a hurry,” Michaels replied, a playful smile on his lips. He sat at his station and briefly perused the readouts. Perkins sat at the port auxiliary console, and set it up for sciences.

   “Do either of you care to elaborate?” McDougal asked them. He could feel the eyes of Lieutenant T’Sala and Lieutenant Commander McCloud, at their tactical and engineering stations respectively, gazing curiously at the pair in the forward part of the bridge.

   “I spent some time at one of the Klingon food kiosks last night,” Michaels began, turning to face his commanding officer, “and it has had an adverse effect on my, uh, internals, sir.”

   McDougal and McCloud nodded in understanding, while T’Sala stood in silent contemplation. “And this elevator…?” McCloud queried.

   Before either one of them could respond, the lift door swooshed open, depositing Lieutenant Commander Jones and Doc Johnson onto the bridge. “Someone needs to go to sickbay and have a complete intestinal exam,” Doc started. “I just hope it wasn’t one of ours.” McDougal turned to the new voice and smiled as the pair walked towards him. “One of the lift cars on the station reeked of flatulence,” Doc explained to him. “‘Montezuma’s Revenge’ hardly does it justice.”

   McDougal fought hard to return to a straight face, and added, “I’m sure whoever it was didn’t do it on purpose.”

   “Nor would this person have intentionally done so to clear the elevator of starbase personnel so they could get where they were going faster,” Perkins added.

   Yeah I did Michaels thought to himself, smiling ear to ear and keeping his face turned from Doc.

   “I’m also certain,” McCloud added, “if this person was on the bridge, he or she would be able to contain themselves.” She shot the Vulcan beside her a sideways glance to allay suspicion.

   The turbo lift door parted once more, allowing O’Kelly onto the bridge. Those already on the bridge turned and watched as he silently went to the starboard replicator, ordered himself a coffee, black, and walked to the starboard aux console, setting it up as a security station.

   “I’m sure,” Doc continued the bantering, “if this unhealthy soul were on the bridge, he or she would know to head to sickbay as soon as possible.”

   “Message from Hyperion,” T’Sala said, changing the subject. “We are clear to undock as soon as we are able. They also add that a combat readiness drill is about to occur, our participation is not required, but we are invited.”

   “Who is attacking the station in this simulation?” McDougal questioned her, not taking his gaze off of the view screen. The massive doors leading them to the freedom of space opened slowly, the pin points of starlight began to shine through as the opening grew.

   “Starfleet Assault Squadron Seventeen, Rolling Thunder, sir,” T’Sala replied.

   “I’d assume that the local defense force is all that the station has?”

   “Aye, sir, along with a small handful of ‘non-locals’, the station has sixteen defenders.”

   Perkins added his part, “Sensor feed from Hyperion, sir. New Jersey class U.S.S. City of Corpus Christi and Excelsior class U.S.S. Repulse have dropped from warp fifty thousand kilometers from the station, bearing two-six-five mark zero.”

   McDougal watched as the doors finally opened wide enough to allow them egress from the station. A Klingon C-7 battle cruiser that had shared the bay with them for the last two weeks slowly began the crawl to open space. As the station rotated around its axis, it allowed them a view of the newcomers. “Clear all moorings and service umbilicals. T’Sala, signal the station, tell them we’ll play on their team, and go to red alert, but do not charge weapons or raise shields. Helm; take us out as soon as we are underway. Perkins, give me a tactical readout on screen, lower left corner.”

   A series of ‘Ayes’ swept the bridge and Cerberus fell in line behind the cruiser before them. Main lighting about the ship dimmed, replaced by red flashers and solid red lighting, accompanied by the shrill barking of the alert klaxon. Crewmen swiftly went to their battle stations, their travels hastened by the fear of the unknown reason for a red alert in space dock. Quietly, the two ships exited the station into space. “Computer,” Jones ordered from beside her CO, “set all combat systems to simulation mode, and run combat damage simulation program.”

   The computer chirruped and beeped, and finally acknowledged her with its friendly female voice, “Combat systems set to simulation mode. Damage control set to simulation mode.”

   “Klingon see-seven Deposer has raised shields and is engaging Repulse,” Perkins read from his console. “New contacts warping in, bearing one-one-four mark zero, it’s the rest of the squadron, sir.”

   “Confirmed, sir,” T’Sala added. “Communications being jammed, Hydran Paladin H.M.S. Hand of Fate closing on Repulse. All ships maintaining combat impulse speeds.”

   “Helm, set course zero-zero-nine mark zero-one-zero, all ahead standard. T’Sala, raise shields and charge the phaser capacitors.”

   “Aye, sir; phasers charging, shields up.” Two armed security guards entered the bridge and took station at the lift door.

   “New telemetry from attack force,” Perkins interrupted.

   “Keep it simple, Mister Perkins,” McDougal replied. He could see the blips on the screen, each of the attacking and defending vessels were labeled on the smallish tactical display on the main screen; both with class and name.

   “Three frigates, two destroyers, two heavy cruisers, one scout and one command cruiser, all are new technology variants. Range to station forty-five thousand kilometers and closing, range to us fifty-two thousand and opening.” Cerberus closed on the two battle cruisers. Both had exchanged long range photon fire with the station, and were beginning to exchange phaser fire with the Hydran and Klingon ships.

   “Clearing defensive minefield now,” Michaels added to the battle chatter after a few moments.

   “All defender ships are clear of the mines,” T’Sala added. “There is a high probability that the station will ‘simulate’ activating them; it would be prudent to not head back that way.”

   “Very well, then.” McDougal watched as the smaller Cerberus closed in on the photon laden battle cruiser. Low power phaser fire shot out from the Corpus Christi and licked the Deposer’s shields. “Helm, change course to two-nine-eight mark three-five-zero, all ahead flank. T’Sala, fast load all torpedoes as full overloads. At a range of eight thousand, open fire with all phasers in arc.”

   “Sir,” Perkins interjected. “Repulse is moving away from Corpus Christi and is changing course towards us.” McDougal watched the screen as the massive Excelsior changed her course, pulling out from her counterparts starboard side and crossing in front, closing the shrinking gap between her and Cerberus. Both vessels fired simulated photon torpedoes into the downed aft shield of Deposer, but the ship continued its own turn to port, unshaken by the ‘damage’; firing simulated phasers into Repulse’s undamaged starboard aft shield. The shots were followed up by the Hydran vessel, who had managed to close in to point blank range on the now weakened shield, despite the wicked onslaught of the two Starfleet ships. If Repulse would take a lesson away from this, it would be ‘never let a Hydran get that close.’ Fate unleashed simulated hell into Repulse, collapsing the shield and causing severe simulated damage.

   The commander of Corpus Christi was no fool. He knew that Cerberus would soon have a fair shot at her relatively weaker rear shields. The massive ship turned to face the smaller vessel, to take the brunt of the attack on her still intact front shield. McDougal knew he’d only get one good and safe shot as the battle cruiser’s weapons recycled. “Helm, change course to two-two-four mark three-five-zero, stand by to go to warp two. McCloud, reinforce shield three and eight with all available power; T’Sala, fire all weapons as we cross arcs, same range as before.”

   “New energy reading from Hyperion, Tholian defense web rings two and three activated,” Perkins said. “Dreadnought Agamemnon simulated destroyed. She finished off two of the attacking cruisers when she blew, the combined simulated explosion crippled the command cruiser and a Tholian cruiser that got too close. Repulse is crippled but still in the fight, Corpus Christi is charging weapons, we will not clear their forward arc in time to avoid a direct hit.”

   “Understood,” McDougal replied. “O’Kelly, send a hit and run team to transporter room two, target Corpus Christi’s main bridge. Tell them to tell her skipper that I send my regards.”

   “Aye, sir,” the man said, and with a smile on his face he set about coordinating his security teams.

   “Range eight thousand, firing phasers one through four.” Four beams of low power phaser energy set out and found their mark upon the battle cruiser’s front shield. Despite the assault, it remained up, though damaged. One of Cerberus’s enhancements for traveling through the dangers of unknown frontier space was an increased phaser and photon suite. The added section of hull added four new phasers, two primary and two defensive gatlings, and while one of Cerberus’s original photon tubes had been removed, two more were added to her belly with a wider arc than the two originals. The ship’s two missile racks had been removed as ‘obsolete equipment,’ but she retained her impressive anti-missile defense systems, which had been augmented with increased capacity.

   “Firing phasers seven through eleven,” T’Sala continued. Two simulated main phasers and twelve simulated gatling bursts impacted the battle cruiser’s already battered shield, slamming it down. “Firing all four torpedoes.” Cerberus continued her turn down and to port as the four simulated overloaded torpedoes impacted. Corpus Christi’s lights flickered, indicating that she had taken simulated damage. Cerberus’s turn to port and down took the belly mounted phasers out of arc, but let her last upper two come to bear.

   “Hold fire,” Jones called. McDougal eyed her, but didn’t question the counter to his order. No need for the weapons to inadvertently strike down the soon to be deployed raiding party.

   “Shield two lowered, transport away,” O’Kelly said. They all waited a tense moment, hoping that the attack team would come back before the ships changed shield arcs. “Boarding party returned. Captain Tenaga sends his regards, and is simulated dead, sir, along with most of the bridge crew. Two of our men are likewise simulated dead, the others injured.”

   “Guess that’s my cue,” Doc said, turning to the bridge’s only exit.

   “Corpus Christi weapons recycled!” Perkins shouted.

   “Helm, warp speed!” McDougal shouted back. Cerberus would have shook as the phasers impacted the starboard aft and dorsal shields, but instead shook slightly and almost unnoticeably as she jumped to warp.

   “Shield three down to ninety six percent,” McCloud said from her engineering panel. “Shield seven is down to sixteen percent. Going to warp robbed them of reinforcement.”

   “Helm, set new course, one-two-three mark zero-four-two, all ahead two thirds.” Cerberus dropped from warp speed underneath the Deposer and began turning as the two ships passed in opposite directions. Fate had managed to turn around behind Repulse, bringing the deadly Hydran weapons back to bear on the stricken vessel.

   “Hyperion is signaling all ships to stand down,” T’Sala reported. “They also report Rolling Thunder has signaled that they are withdrawing.”

   “Stand down from red alert.” McDougal paused, and pressed his ‘1MC’ button. “All hands, good job in the simulated battle. We are now standing down and continuing with our mission.” McDougal closed the circuit and stood. “Computer, secure from combat simulation, restore all systems to normal.”

   “All systems returned to normal,” the computer responded to him after a brief series of chirrups and beeps. The ships lighting returned to normal and all the red lights turned off. “Congratulations, people, we damaged one of Starfleet’s best. A couple more rounds out here with the help of our Klingon and Hydran friends, we’d have had both ships.” He walked over to the starboard replicator unit and manually input the order to create one long, brown cigar, match, and ash tray. He had to sacrifice one ‘VICTORY’ and one ‘DEFEAT’ to get the computer to make them right, but it was a good sacrifice.

   He removed the recreated items from the unit, and looked back at all the eyes on him. “Simulated victory, simulated cigar,” he said. “Helm, lay in a course for Trellious system, warp six.”

   Michaels turned back to the helm and input the destination and speed on the navigation console. “Trellious, warp six, aye, sir,” he said while he and the computer worked. A brief moment passed as the navigation computer fed the helm the course and all the corrections that would have to be made en route to avoid stellar phenomena and other bodies. “Course laid in, sir.”

   “Execute,” he said to Michaels. With a burst of disrupted subspace, the stars on the screen blurred from normal to mottled tunnel to streaks as the ship leapt to warp. 

   Jones smiled at her CO, and he returned the smile. “You want one?” he asked, gesturing to the replicator.

   “No,” she replied. “But I’ll take some of yours, if you don’t mind.” McDougal placed the stogie to between lips and was about to strike the match when O’Kelly interrupted him.

   “Sir,” he started, “I don’t know why we didn’t see this before, but internal sensors indicate we have a stowaway.”

   “Oh?” he replied, sharing the look of surprise with the rest of the bridge crew.



Czar "+1 Karma for any 'Lurker' that leaves a comment" Mohab, who adds, with jest, "SLACKERS!" :whip:

*Edited posting icon to "thumbs up" to maintain continuity between stories*
« Last Edit: November 24, 2007, 11:15:03 pm by Czar Mohab »
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Offline Commander La'ra

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Re: Second Chances II: The Long, Dusty Trail.
« Reply #1 on: September 15, 2007, 02:59:04 am »
Great start, and the exercise was a nice way to give us a 'fight' scene.  I must admit though, I got a little thrill when you mentioned the C-7.  I need to get back to working on my La'ra story, just to get that 'Klingon' charge.
"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: Second Chances II: The Long, Dusty Trail.
« Reply #2 on: September 16, 2007, 09:18:37 pm »
Am here for the +1 karma...

Oh look...there's a story up there too...

Funny to find a stow away in a simulation situation... Hope it aint an Andromedan...

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

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Offline Commander La'ra

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Re: Second Chances II: The Long, Dusty Trail.
« Reply #3 on: September 17, 2007, 01:31:21 am »
Funny to find a stow away in a simulation situation... Hope it aint an Andromedan...

It's an Andromedan.  He's hiding under the captain's bed, plotting his takeover of the USS Endeavour.
« Last Edit: September 18, 2007, 01:22:34 am by Commander La'ra »
"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: Second Chances II: The Long, Dusty Trail.
« Reply #4 on: September 17, 2007, 07:07:52 pm »
Funny you mention that... I'm currently writing a scene for #15 with intruders onboard ship...

Anyone who wishes to try said take over knows where Endeavour docks at...

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

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Offline Czar Mohab

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Re: Second Chances II: The Long, Dusty Trail.
« Reply #5 on: September 18, 2007, 11:17:20 pm »
Was actually hoping to attract 'lurkers'. Guess I failed.

Guv, La'ra, neither of you are lurkers, but you both got the +1 anyway.

The C-7: Perhaps my personal favorite vessel in all SFC/SFB/Trekdom. Wicked, versatile, maneuverable... Its big without being too big. My last "main" toon, Mohab, flew one for those very reasons, and more, including its highly modifiable structure.

The stowaway was found post-simulation. I assure you, no Andromedans in this part of the story.

Capture the Endeavor? Naw, that would involve time travel, and some other things I'm not willing to do. Yet.

Czar "Next part next week, doing things like work and moving." Mohab, who just bought a house.
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Offline Governor Ronjar

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Re: Second Chances II: The Long, Dusty Trail.
« Reply #6 on: September 19, 2007, 12:33:40 am »
Congrats, Homeowner. Nice, ain't it?

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

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Offline KOTH-KieranXC, Ret.

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Re: Second Chances II: The Long, Dusty Trail.
« Reply #7 on: September 19, 2007, 01:14:48 am »
Man, I'd forgotten that Blyre beat me to the punch with the name Hyperion. Kinda weird to see it and not automatically think K-Fo. ;)
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Offline Scottish Andy

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Re: Second Chances II: The Long, Dusty Trail.
« Reply #8 on: September 24, 2007, 12:20:03 pm »
Good start to a new story. I have to say that I really do like that whole cigar mannerism. I like it so much I'm tempted to steal something like it for my own stories...

...if I ever manage to get back around to writing them.

Not sure about the first scene being a simulated battle, though. It went well, I'm just more of a Star Trekker despite my SFB/C background. Starfleet wouldn't have "Assault" squadrons. One of the fights I have with Ady Jones of The Interim Years is whether or not they'd have destroyer squadrons! (I think they would, he thinks they wouldn't).
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Offline Governor Ronjar

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Re: Second Chances II: The Long, Dusty Trail.
« Reply #9 on: September 24, 2007, 09:05:45 pm »
Seeing as the only time you see Starfleet organized into squadrons or groups of anything was during DS9's Dominion War, one can safely imagine anything for their fictional universe. The Czar's 'Verse seems to revolve around a slightly more militant version, and the idea of an Assault Squadron fits as well as anything.

I myself liked the idea of staring the story off in a training scenario.

--thu guv, who has run out of things to say...
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Offline Czar Mohab

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Re: Second Chances II: The Long, Dusty Trail.
« Reply #10 on: September 24, 2007, 10:30:01 pm »
Well, thanks for coming, all!

Like them or not, in the time period I am writing from, the Andromedans are a major threat. There is a galaxy (well, maybe alpha-beta quadrant) wide war going on to eliminate them as a threat from our galaxy. That being said, an assault squadron wouldn't be that out of place, no matter who owned them. For me, it is hard to picture Starfleet without such things, even in peace time there are border skirmishes and bad things attacking everyone, et al. Just think of it as something that you don't usually see on screen because Star Trek itself isn't based around war and conflict, but rather overcoming those same conflicts through better means.

Destroyer, cruiser, and frigate squadrons probably appeared throughout the time line. Heck, I'd even guess that they would have been operated similar to PF squadrons of SFB, with a leader and scout variant; possibly even a small carrier with an escort or two. What they did, however, could be anyone's guess. Defense? Assault? That should be your debate, my friend. They did exist.

As to Hyperion, as far as I know, Blyre was the proud papa of that brain storm. Starting with the destroyer of the same name, then the station that was born out of the Hyperion Incident.

Well, back to unpacking. There will be a story update before Thursday afternoon.

P.S. +2 Karma to anyone who can guess who the 'stowaway' is.

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Offline Commander La'ra

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Re: Second Chances II: The Long, Dusty Trail.
« Reply #11 on: September 25, 2007, 01:08:49 am »

Destroyer, cruiser, and frigate squadrons probably appeared throughout the time line. Heck, I'd even guess that they would have been operated similar to PF squadrons of SFB, with a leader and scout variant; possibly even a small carrier with an escort or two. What they did, however, could be anyone's guess. Defense? Assault? That should be your debate, my friend. They did exist.

Andy's not saying they don't appear in SFB material, I don't think.  He's referring to the fact that Star Trek: TNG style Starfleet might not label something as an 'assault squadron'.  Most of us on here aren't as familiar with SFB stuff anyway...no one's going to be picking at ADB timeline details. ;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: Second Chances II: The Long, Dusty Trail.
« Reply #12 on: September 25, 2007, 06:10:59 pm »
I care nothing for SFB or its timeline material. Nor am I particuarly fond of Trek's evolving timeline and the way their quasi-military is usually handled. So I'm game for anything. Bring it on. You say Assault Squadron, I say fine.

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

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Offline Commander La'ra

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Re: Second Chances II: The Long, Dusty Trail.
« Reply #13 on: September 25, 2007, 08:05:32 pm »
What the Guv said. ;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 Scottish Andy

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Re: Second Chances II: The Long, Dusty Trail.
« Reply #14 on: September 26, 2007, 12:22:43 pm »
Larry hit the nail on the head. I don't doubt there are contingency plans, but I'm of the opinion that the terminology of a happy-clappy socialist state wouldn't include "destroyer", "assault", "strike", or other such nasty, aggressive terms.  ;D

I think it's unrealistic, personally, but that's the universe Gene created for TNG, so... ;)

I missed the "we're at war with the Andros across the quadrant" subtext. I thought these were isolated incidents of subterfuge and SpecOps. With the war as a background, your storytelling style makes more sense now. I withdraw my comments. :D
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Offline Commander Maxillius

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Re: Second Chances II: The Long, Dusty Trail.
« Reply #15 on: September 26, 2007, 12:45:30 pm »
I have always found it odd that the Federation had "destroyers" and not "heavy frigates". 
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Offline kadh2000

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Re: Second Chances II: The Long, Dusty Trail.
« Reply #16 on: September 26, 2007, 11:27:22 pm »
No comment on the stowaway.  I know the SFB timeline so go ahead and keep it!  The Feds and everyone else in the SFB universe eventually got a heavy frigate.  Kinda silly if you ask me, but if the Klingons get an F6 then everyone wants to copy it.  We're innovators that way.  The SFB Federation would use assault squadrons since they base their starfleet on a much more realistic military model.

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Offline Governor Ronjar

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Re: Second Chances II: The Long, Dusty Trail.
« Reply #17 on: September 26, 2007, 11:27:51 pm »
Destroyers sounds cooler. More aggressive. In any genre, era or context.

Frigate means a sailing ship or a ship built so thin that missiles pass through them without detonating.

Something with the name Destroyer...that's out to kick somebody's ass for them. Even if it really is another small ship meant to be strategic fodder...

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Offline kadh2000

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Re: Second Chances II: The Long, Dusty Trail.
« Reply #18 on: September 26, 2007, 11:47:54 pm »
I always felt frigate had a nice connotation of romance that you can't find in destroyer. 
"The Andromedans," Kadh said, "will never stop coming.  Not until they are all destroyed or we are."

Offline Czar Mohab

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Re: Second Chances II: The Long, Dusty Trail.
« Reply #19 on: September 27, 2007, 01:28:48 am »
Didn't realize that this would spark a debate ;) No worries. And yes, I did realize what Andy was talking about. Should have made that clearer. Anyhoo, on with the show!


   There was no need for the security team that followed them. O’Kelly, however, insisted that he be present when the culprit was apprehended; it was, after all, his job. Cerberus’s internal scans had revealed that the unwanted guest was not wielding weapons in the traditional sense, but had enough born into him through several million generations of evolution that of the six other life forms that O’Kelly and Perkins had detected, only two of them remained. “Two meters ahead,” the man in charge of security said. McDougal and Jones nodded and duck-walked along the contour of the ship’s hull as they trod through the bilge, careful to duck below the occasional pipe or support beam that was hung too low.

   A loud screech up ahead caused the four of them to stop in their tracks. O’Kelly looked to his security counterpart, a young woman with short blond hair and aspirations of promotion beyond the junior grades of officer-ship. Fear had shown in her eyes, only momentarily, as she forced it from her. She looked at O’Kelly’s tricorder and noted with still shaky breath, “Two life forms remaining.”

   They continued their pause, listening at the scraping of clawed paws against immovable hull plating and similarly stationary machinery. Suddenly, a large gray rodent burst forth from its temporary hiding place and scurried past the quartet and towards the only ladder on this, the starboard side of the ship, out of the bilge. In a flash, the large animal that had been hunting these rodents on board the ship sprang from his own hiding place, pouncing on the rodent. Another blood curdling screech ensued, but was abruptly halted by the soft wet snap of the rodent’s skull being crushed in the jaws of the large feline. “Impressive,” Jones said as they watched the cat play with the twitching form of its prey.

   “Mouser,” McDougal added. “The rodents look to be Romulan or Vulcan; the cat, however, is of earth origin.”

   “Vulcan or Romulan?” O’Kelly questioned. “You mean they share more than just looks and blood types with their common backgrounds?”

   “Oh, aye,” Jones added. “Those that left Vulcan to find a different existence took more than people. Vulcans find the rodents a nuisance, but logical, the Romulans use them as target practice.”

   “Whoever they belong to,” McDougal interrupted, “will have to be a debate for Doc to solve. Get a cleaning crew in here and remove any and all bodies to sick bay.” McDougal duck-walked over to the cat, who was now bored with its lifeless prey, and extended a hand in a gesture of friendship. Feline instinct took over and the cat sniffed, then rubbed, the offered fingers with his bloody face.

   “Meorwlf” the cat chortled in a high pitched voice as he began to parade himself proudly before his audience. His gold-green eyes looked back at each of them, and a small smile played about his feline lips. For a Terran feline, he was huge, most of his bulk was muscle, covered by a thick coat of tabby stripes over most of his top half, and bold white everywhere else.  A brilliant white ring circled completely about his tail a few centimeters short of its very tip, adding to the already playful aura of this beast.

   “You belonged to someone,” McDougal said as he hefted the cat into his arms with a grunt. “Best get you to sickbay. Jones, you’re with me.” The pair left the bilge bay with their bounty, hearing O’Kelly call for reinforcements to clean the bilge of rats.


   “I’m a doctor, not a veterinarian,” Doc Johnson said as McDougal set the purring mass down on a bio bed, “but I will see what I can do.” Doc pulled out a medical tricorder from the bed’s storage compartment and began to scan the feline.

   “Merowl!” the cat snarled at the whirring device, but continued his purring all the same.

   “He’s nine point nine kilos, Shawn. Whoever had him kept him well fed. He’s been altered, but no other signs of major illness or surgery. He does have the insect repellent dermal implant, along with an identi-chip. Let’s see who he is.” Doc passed the scanner over the cat’s shoulders and waited for the tricorder to translate. “His name is Oscar, his owner was a Ms. Juliana Quincy. He was donated to Hyperion after her passing to aid in eliminating a small rodent problem.”

   “Must have been some problem,” McDougal commented. “I know that occasionally stations still get infestations, but usually security and the computer’s internal systems can handle it. I wonder how many other ships were infested.”

   “We can call the station and ask,” Jones suggested from beside him. “Maybe arrange for him to return and finish his job?”

   “What do you think, Oscar?” McDougal asked the cat.

   He stood and circled around his spot on the bio bed, and sat again, and looked into McDougal’s eyes. “Mewooowl,” he said as he laid down and rolled onto his back, exposing his snowy white belly to be scratched. Doc obliged the cat, and Oscar began to purr louder.

   “Computer,” McDougal said, looking slightly upwards, “at this time, recognize feline named ‘Oscar’ as an honorary crewmember until such time as he chooses to disembark this vessel.” The computer simply beeped in acknowledgement. McDougal left the trio behind him as he sought sickbay’s communications board. After finding the panel, he keyed the ship’s 1MC, “All hands, this is the captain.” He paused before continuing, allowing crewmen to pause from their tasks and hear what was to follow. “We have found on board this ship a Terran feline. His name is Oscar, and from this point on, is to be treated as one of the crew. We have also found evidence that station Hyperion had a rodent infestation, and they graciously left us with a gift of some of these rodents. Should you encounter any more of these pests, please bring it to the attention of the command staff at once, and we’ll send Oscar to deal with the problem. Carry on.” He closed the line and sighed.

   McDougal walked back to the bio bed slowly. It was bending the rules to keep the feline, this much he knew, but he’d fallen for him, and wasn’t about to let him go. “Miss Jones, please escort Oscar to your quarters, and make sure he has access to both mine and yours.”

   “Aye, sir,” she acknowledged, scooping up the still purring cat with a slight grunt. She turned and left sickbay.

   “Shawn,” Doc said calmly. “It’s fine to keep him. This ship needs a mascot anyway.”

   “That isn’t what is bugging me, Doc,” McDougal replied. “Starfleet can go pound sand if they think they have anything against us keeping him. Many other captains in the fleet, past and present, have their own pets. I’m not worried about that, though. I’m worried about you.”

   “Hah!” Doc laughed. “What I get myself into now?”

   “It’s your promotion.” McDougal sighed and produced two black velvet boxes from his trouser pockets. “I know that you’re the only current enlisted doctor in the fleet; that is, the only one that can legally be called ‘doctor’ because you went through all the right schooling. ‘Fleet wants me to promote you to lieutenant commander,” he handed Doc the first box. “I protested on your behalf, knowing how much you like being an enlisted man. I fought hard to give you this choice,” he handed him the second box. “No one will think any different of you whichever way you go.”

   Doc stopped in his tracks, everything seemed to pause around him as he opened the boxes to reveal the insignias of lieutenant commander and master chief, respectively, in each box. “How long?”

   “As long as you need, Doc. ‘Fleet also mentioned that going officer won’t hurt your combat billeting in the least, I know that has always been one of your major concerns. They’ll still let you go play with the ground pounders.”

   Doc smiled. “You know me well, Shawn. Thank you for getting them to let me choose. It’s a small victory for me, and I very much appreciate this.”

   McDougal suddenly had a flash of insight. “Put on the Master Chief stars,” he said. “If they don’t fit after a few days, try on the other one. If that one doesn’t fit, we’ll have to find something else.”

   “I don’t think I could ever get used to being called ‘sir’ all the time,” Doc said, affixing the new emblem onto his uniform collar.

   “I know,” McDougal said, finishing the old joke for him, “you work for a living. Come, join me on the bridge, we’ve a few victories to celebrate.” With that, the pair left sickbay and headed for the bridge.



   “Cats were considered a token of good fortune on Earth’s ancient sailing vessels,” T’Sala’s voice greeted the pair as they entered the bridge.

   “Indeed they were, Miss T’Sala,” Doc said as he and the CO strode to her spot in the center seat. “They helped keep the rats out of the food.” McDougal motioned for the young Vulcan to remain seated as he retrieved his not forgotten cigar, match and ashtray from their place perched on the chair’s armrest. He made a motion to Doc to head behind the ‘big chair’ so they could observe the bridge crew at work.

   The turbo lift door silently swooshed open and emitted the ships XO onto the bridge. “Oscar’s found your bed,” she started, “and is sleeping. I’ve had a litter box, some cat food and a water dish replicated for him. He seems at home.”

   “Excellent!” McDougal exclaimed. McDougal placed the cigar between his lips and was about to strike the match when the communications panel at the tactical station beeped a warning.

   “Incoming distress call,” Lieutenant Perkins said from the panel. “Ship in distress, U.S.S. Delaware.”

   “Lets hear it,” McDougal ordered. He returned the stogy, match and ashtray to their prior perch as he assumed the command chair from T’Sala. The screen flickered from the streaking star field to a static filled view of the distressed vessels bridge. Flames shot through the scene, sparks fell from the overhead and smoke billowed freely from a destroyed console behind the ship’s captain.

   “I say again, this is the Delaware calling to any vessel within range. We’ve suffered a catastrophic explosion in our engine room. We’ve lost… propulsion and … systems. Trans… inoperative… empting emergency land… ” The screen blanked out momentarily, then returned to the visage of streaking stars.

   “That’s all we got,” Perkins reported. “They managed to launch an emergency beacon, automated message only.”

   “Helm, change course to intercept, maximum warp,” McDougal ordered.

Czar "More later" Mohab, who has pictures of the cat "Oscar" is modeled after, for anyone interested.

P.S. Look at the "avatar" picture I have to see one of them. And despite having a slight 'fat sack', the real Oscar is almost ten Kilos (22 pounds) and is very muscular.
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