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[Czar Mohab]

Finally decided on a title for this, so thought I'd put up what I have started thus far. Makes a good teaser/intro if you ask me. But since no one did, I'll let you all judge!

Second Chances III: The Trellious Incident


   Cerberus orbited in silence over the sixth planet in the Trellious system. Sunlight reflected off of its red sanded surface, casting an eerie red glow onto the starship’s hull. McDougal found the view befitting the ship’s namesake, and had ordered several pictures taken using the ship’s sensors. Later, he would take note of the best few and have them framed and hung in key locations throughout the ship. Now, however, he waited patiently for the soft beep from the sensor panel, confirming the completion of this orbit’s survey.

   The planet below reminded him of Mars and the cities he’d visited as a young man. He remembered watching out the shuttle’s cabin as they descended towards the “big red dust ball” as he called it back then. He remembered watching as the cities grew larger against the red ground, silvery beacons in the desert like plains. It was always a family visit; most of his extended family lived not on Earth. He wasn’t too sure, but the day he was allowed to pilot the craft (with strong oversight from the actual pilot) on its short journey home might have been the catalyst to his desires of joining the fleet.

   He’d wanted to travel to this planet’s surface, to experience the nostalgia of the trip first hand; the discovery of two unmanned probes on the surface forced them to reconsider, reminding them that this planet was not yet explored by the locals. The Prime Directive was there again, forcing his hand in ways he wished it not to go. Further towards the center of this solar system, twin planets harbored the life that had begun to take their first tentative steps into the unknown. How would they receive the knowledge of a Starfleet issue boot print or two on the surface? It was bad enough that the planet below them was an archaeologist’s dreams come true; someone long ago had lived on the planet; now, the only inhabitants were the two wheeled rovers, scurrying about its surface.

    Finally, the sensor panel beeped its cutesy beep, refocusing his mind. “Last survey completed, sir,” Perkins noted unnecessarily.

   “Helm, break orbit and head for Trellious Three, half impulse; and keep us out of close view of Four and Five. I don’t want them to see us if they’re looking.”

   “Breaking orbit,” the young female ensign at the helm replied. Ensign Sherri King worked the panel like a pro, and after a few silent moments had the new course laid in. She informed her captain of such, and followed his order to “execute”.

   Cerberus pulled away from the red planet slowly, confidently, and proceeded in a port-ward looping course towards the next planet. The red glow on the hull faded to a soft yellow-white cast upon her by the system’s single star. She saw her target planet far off in the distance, a blue-white ball of rock covered with a think layer of superheated gasses. “We’ll be passing close enough for a preliminary scan of Four and Five,” King noted nonchalantly.

   “Sounds pretty good to me, Miss King. Mister Perkins, let’s take a peek, low powered scan. I don’t want to spook them.”

   “Acknowledged, sir,” Perkins replied. He busied himself with his panel, refocusing the ship’s sensors towards the two planets. “This is amazing, sir! Both planets are similar in mass, land to water ratio, atmospheric content… They even share an almost identical day-night rotation, Five is seventeen nanoseconds longer. Wait a second… I’m reading several space craft in orbit of both planets… fusion propulsion drives, minimal sensors from what I can see. I cannot determine an exact number; however there are several life forms on the ships orbiting Five, and very few on most of those orbiting Four.”

   “And yet they send unmanned probes to Six. Do you think that they could make it out this far?”

   “I believe so,” he responded without looking from his panel.

   “Continue scanning the planets as we pass, maybe there’s a key to this mystery on one of them.”

   “I’m reading a technology level equivalent to an early pre-warp society on Five. There are some vestiges of similar technology on Four, however it appears that most of the planet is lacking in technology. These could be landing sites; I should know more when we get a bit closer.”

   Cerberus maintained her sweeping trot across the solar system, finally closing enough on the fourth and fifth planets to get a good view with her down powered sensors. It wasn’t enough, however, placing her captain in a precarious position. Do they move closer? Do they increase the intensity of the scans? The whole covert survey mission could be thrown off if they picked up on the sensors or saw the ship outright. They risked enough, as far as the Prime Directive was concerned, just being in view of the planets. Perkins rattled off what little information he could before the ship’s distance to the two planets opened. McDougal’s mind was focused on the most interesting tidbit: the two planets orbited their sun at such a pace that they would forever be the same distance apart.

   McDougal’s mind chewed the information, possible ideas forming and subsiding at a substantial pace. Most revolved around the vast possibilities of trade between the two planets. He finally rested on something that bothered him greatly, a horrible atrocity from Earth’s own past. He ordered the sensors to a higher level scan, searching through the ships leaving the fourth planet and heading for the fifth. They were not much longer than one hundred seventy meters in length, yet each ship made planet fall on Five with over five hundred life forms on board. In contrast, the ones landing on Four boasted a mere twenty or so. The scans of the twelve vessels that could be detected made McDougal bitter and angry.

   Scans of the life forms were indeterminate, but indicated a similar biology between the two planets, perhaps off shoots of the same species. Scans directed at Five revealed a highly evolved culture, where the native inhabitants seemed to enjoy a status of luxury, while those that were being shipped in from Four appeared to take the route of laborers, farm hands, servants and the like. This set McDougal over the edge. He ordered the ship to hide behind the third planet and left the bridge for the shuttle bay. How could such an advanced culture condone slavery? he asked himself as the lift door shut with Perkins and himself inside.

*****

Czar "Its a fresh approach" Mohab

*Minor edit to: add some things my mind forgot to tell my fingers to add, lower number of slaves per shuttle to be more realistic, flow balance some parts.*

**Another minor edit to correct a lost edit edited before the first edit.**

^This is what three days of turkey will do to ya...^

[Governor Ronjar]

Ah, slavers. My favorite among all bad guys.

--thu guv!!

[KOTH-KieranXC, Ret.]

Me, I tend to go for those lawful evil stellar domination types.

[Czar Mohab]

Here cometh part the nexteth:


   “ffF*CK!” McDougal shouted inside the turbo car. Perkins watched him, puzzled at the sudden outburst. “Computer,” McDougal said while his shout still resonated within the lift, and much forced calmness in his voice. “Reroute to sickbay.”

   “You okay, sir?” Perkins offered as the lift reversed its direction.

   “I’m fine. My brain was working too fast, missed a step or two. We need to get fixed up to look like the locals.”

   Perkins stood quietly beside the man, not desiring to offer up that the species they’d seen, and would soon infiltrate, looked human enough that they should be able to get by fine without the stop off, just a tad shorter. Perkins himself had never been on an infiltrate and study mission, but knew the risks at hand. He’d been studying some of the better known Captains’ and Commodores’ successful and almost disastrous missions. McConnell, Kensett, Washington and Ford, all names that stuck in his mind when he thought of the risks and gains; these were the near misses and almost disasters he’d read that ultimately lead to successful infiltration or first contact situations. Then, of course, were the jackasses like Kirk and Mohab who seemed more inclined to pick up dog mess in a yard with the Prime Directive than to actually follow it. He’d glossed over their reports of blatant interference, keeping a mental note of what to never do, lest he be promoted to a desk job where he could do no more harm.

   When the pair finally arrived in sick bay, Perkins immediately made his way to an available terminal. He accessed the snapshots the sensors had managed to take of a few of the locals. With about one thousand good examples of apparel, faces, hands, feet, skin tones, height, weight, eye color and ear shapes from both planets, he felt assured that the inhabitants could easily set up a colony on Earth and no one would notice them save perhaps their only major outward difference.

   They were tall. Using pictorial references, Perkins estimated that they were an average height of two point five meters tall, which might cause problems for anyone in the away team.

   Perkins studied the files closer while listening to the captain and Doc explain this whole thing to each other; looking for physical and any obvious differences between the two races. At first, he didn’t notice anything obvious, until he saw a slave master and her group of what Perkins had thought was her children. “We’re in like a rabbit in the cabbage patch!” he exclaimed.

   Doc and McDougal both eyed him quizzically. “Mister Perkins?” Doc finally asked.

   “We won’t need any surgery, Captain, Doc. Save for their clothing and adornments, we look exactly like them. The slaves happen to be our height, while the slave masters are taller, about half a meter or so.”

   “Well that actually fits my plans,” McDougal commented. “Replicate appropriate attire for six males and six females from Four and meet me and the rest of the away team in the shuttle bay in thirty. I’ll be in engineering briefing the Engineer.” McDougal left sick bay without another sound. Doc simply crossed his arms and shook his head.

   “Something’s bothering him,” Perkins commented.

   “I know,” Doc said, not offering any more. “Let me help you with the replications.”

   “Do you know why he thinks we need twelve people?”

   “Besides you and himself, he doesn’t know who is going yet.”

   Chief Rankin met the captain as he crossed the threshold into the engine room. “Sir,” he said politely.

   “You ever study lower tech power generating systems, such as first generation fusion reactors?” McDougal didn’t even stop, hoping the chief would follow him for his answer.

   “Of course I have, sir,” Rankin replied, having trouble keeping up with the speeding commander.

   “Good. You’re coming with me.” McDougal kept his pace, twisting and turning through the room. Dissatisfied with his own search, he finally stopped and turned to Rankin. “Where’s the Eng?”

   “Right here,” McCloud said from behind him. McDougal jumped slightly. “Do you need me?”

   “Maybe. I’m taking Rankin with me on an away mission, but I’ll need a command ranked officer to remain behind in command of the ship. I was wondering if you’d be up to it.”

   “Of course, sir,” she said softly.  “If I may ask, why are you asking me?”

   “According to Starfleet regulations, the commanding officer of a star ship isn’t supposed to lead away missions, correct?”

   “Correct, as far as I know, sir.”

   “Doesn’t say anything about observing, not even in the fine print. After this one, they might think to recheck that.” He smiled at her, and started again, “You’ll be stationed behind the third planet…”



   Lieutenant Commander Jones waited impatiently in the shuttle bay for her captain to show up. She eyeballed the three shuttlecraft there, the two standard sized craft Hermes and Odin and the much larger shuttle Many De’Oria. She was thankful of McDougal’s choice of the larger shuttle over the two escort fighters offered them at Hyperion; they most likely wouldn’t help in combat anyway. She did, however, wonder why the fighter ready-racks remained installed, such superfluous equipment might have been better served on a full sized survey ship or even a carrier group.

   She was also thankful that the De’Oria was equipped with transporters, making her the likely choice for the mission ahead. She was never one for traveling in the cramped confines of the smaller shuttles. She didn’t know all of the details yet, but could only imagine that a covert insertion wouldn’t be possible by landing any of the craft planetside.

   Jones had long since donned her “local” clothes, a set of what seemed like sixteenth generation hand-me-downs; they were tattered and stained with who-knew-what and ill-fitting. Her denim-style jacket was much too loose, while her undershirt was at least two sizes too small. She wondered how anyone could live with such tattered rags for warmth as she innocently fingered a hole in the woolen pants she wore. Perkins and Rankin sported similar fitting duds, and looked uncomfortable. She just hoped that whatever her captain had in mind would be something simple and quick, if the locals didn’t kill them, the clothing might.

   No further words were spoken once McDougal’s form split the doorway to the shuttle bay. He was followed closely by Master-At-Arms Second Class Larry Williamson and Master-At-Arms First Class Brenda Larson. McDougal initially wanted Marines for this expedition, but realized that, with helpful prodding from Security Chief O’Kelly, these two from the Special Operations Forces were better trained and less robot-like than any of the handful of Marines assigned to ship’s security. They both offered McDougal something none of the Marines on board had: explicit training in the art of covert warfare. McDougal liked the potential that these two had.

   De’Oria slipped silently out of Cerberus’s shuttle bay and took a long leisurely path to Trellious Four, making certain that Five and the slave trade ships remained out of view. It was a quiet trip; the shuttle’s occupants took in the breath-taking views of the earth-like planet as it grew in size. McDougal piloted the craft to a northern polar orbit, using the natural magnetic fields of the planet to mask the shuttle’s signature. They waited for almost an hour for an orbiting slave transport to land, clearing an opening for the smaller shuttle to scurry to satisfactory transport coordinates and begin beaming down, in pairs, the away team.

   First to land were the security personnel, sent in first to make sure the area was clear. Once McDougal was satisfied, he sent down Rankin and Perkins. McDougal and Jones waited just long enough for the helm to acknowledge the auto pilot orders and beamed themselves down. McDougal had thought this part out rather well. If there was trouble and they needed to be extracted, they would hail the shuttle and be beamed aboard as soon as it came into range. If something happened to the shuttle, the mission was most likely botched at that point, and Cerberus would come sweeping in for the rescue.

   The team landed not too terribly far from the northern pole, allowing for the shuttle to maintain some of its stealth if extraction was required. Twelve kilometers distant from the landing site was a small settlement; their primary objective. This site was chosen for its distance from any of the slaver landing sites, they would most likely not be picked up as slaves themselves if the locals from Five were as far away as they were.

   “Higher levels of background radiation than initially detected,” Perkins said, reading from his tricorder. “Possible nuclear fallout. Well within safety limits, but I wouldn’t want to stay too long.”

   “Any signs we’ve been detected?” McDougal asked.

   “Negative. No humanoid life signs detected within three kilometers. Smaller mammals and other non-humanoid life forms are sporadic and extend the range of the tricorder.”

   McDougal briefly surveyed the grassy plains that they’d materialized in. He could see a young forest in the distance to the south, lazily rolling hills to the east and west, and nothing but grass to the north, the way they needed to go. If they were ambushed by slavers, there’d be no place to take cover. “Let’s move out, we’re burning daylight.”

Czar "How's that?" Mohab   

[Governor Ronjar]

Looks like you're building up to a good one. The flow is slow and steady, but it doesn't slow down to the point that I'm dozing off.

Keep er coming!

--thu guv!

[Commander La'ra]

Yep.  That whole realization of what those slave ships were up too...that's when McDougal probably wishes he was a Klingon, rather than Federation, Starship commander.

[Czar Mohab]

Might have to add that line about being Klingon in later...

Thanks for the responses so far! I hope to keep you all entertained with the next segments, but that may or may not be soon. We'll see.

Czar "Stupid reality keeping me from my happy place." Mohab

[Andromeda]

Who's McDougal?  First meeting in story should give me something to know how to treat him.  As a new reader of Second Changes, I need an introduction. 

silvery beacons in the desert like plains.

desert-like is easier to read.

Wouldn't it be terrible if they weren't slavers.  Besides, where does he get off apparently violating the prime directive because they offend his sense of righteousness?  Great Start and a flawed man in charge.  Oh, well.  I am looking forward to the next part.

[Czar Mohab]

Thanks Rommie! I must point point out to you that you didn't have to swing over and say hi, but I am glad that you did!

Who's McDougal?

The Captain, of course...

First meeting in story should give me something to know how to treat him.  As a new reader of Second Changes, I need an introduction.

You are absolutely right. I wrote this right after chapter 2, so I kinda forgot to get that part in. Apologies.

desert-like is easier to read.

You're right. Didn't see that.

Wouldn't it be terrible if they weren't slavers?

Maybe. You'll have to see, won't you?

Besides, where does he get off apparently violating the prime directive because they offend his sense of righteousness?

All that there is is suspicion. Best way to find out, go talk to the locals. Fed's do that all the time.

Great Start and a flawed man in charge.

His flaws are not from jumping the gun and rushing to find out what's up. His major flaws will be coming in a later installment.

Czar "Thanks again, Rommie. You gave me a lot to look at!" Mohab
P.S.

Oh, well.  I am looking forward to the next part.

Glad to hear that!

[Czar Mohab]

With some inspiration, this has been edited. Enjoy!

   McDougal stopped dead in his tracks. “What if they’re not slavers and slaves? What if this is some sort of strange symbiotic relationship or something?”

   “Having second thoughts?” Chief Rankin asked him. “It’s a little late for that.”

   “Will,” he started, remembering his own standing order to keep this mission semi-informal to allay suspicion with the natives. “I’m seriously thinking about that.”

   “Shawn,” Jones started from in front of the two, “what are you going to do if your first feelings were right? You can’t just emancipate them.”

   “I know. But I have to know for sure.”

   The six continued their trek, security at point, Jones and Perkins in the middle and McDougal and Rankin in the rear. It wasn’t long before the grassy plain left them for the overgrown shrubbery along a dusty path that forced them into a single file line. It turned into a slightly upward climb, and after two kilometers of uphill hiking, the path and bushes gave way to a breathtaking view of a serene valley. Far off in the distance snow capped peaks loomed like sentries watching over their domain. Between them and the mountains were countless kilometers of fertile land. Two different rivers could be seen winding their way through the valley, each passing through the medium sized settlement that was their goal. Smoke from late afternoon fires could be seen, passing lazily through thatch-roofed cottages of stone and clay.

   “‘Ello friends!” a small voice called from behind them, startling the group. McDougal motioned his people to stand down; it was only a boy, after all.

   “Fancy seeing you out here,” McDougal said to the young lad.

   “I was lookin’ for you!” the boy exclaimed. “Pop-Pop’s going to be so happy I found you first!”

   McDougal eyed the small child with fascination. His shirtless form was covered in layers of filth, his tattered cloth pants hung about his waist two sizes too large, tied with an old rope. Despite being alien to them all, he seemed familiar. “How’d he know we were coming?”

   “No time now, we’ve to be going! Come along! Follow!” The boy motioned them along and led them safely into the valley and onward to the village.



   “Rig for ultra quiet!” McCloud passed the ancient order over Cerberus’s 1MC. Long ago, Earth’s submarine captains would pass the same order when trying to evade an enemy. Noisy machinery was turned off in favor of quieter counterparts, unnecessary personnel would head to their racks, unneeded machines were secured… Submarines in this state were virtually undetectable; McCloud hoped that with this ship’s adaptation of the procedure, she, too, would make a hole in space. Lights dimmed. Background ambient noises faded away. Red combat lighting cast an eerie glow about the bridge. Best we can do because of that stupid treaty with the Romulans McCloud thought to herself. It better work, or Shawn’ll be pissed.

   “Similar hull shape to the vessels orbiting Four and Five,” T’Sala reported. “Both vessels are closing to this planet from the far side.”

   “Have we been detected?” McCloud asked. She’d ordered the ship to a southern pole orbit in an attempt to confuse the sensors of the fast incoming ships.

   “Uncertain as to the full extent of their sensors, ma’am. I am reading that they are conducting an active sensor sweep around the planet.”

   “How about the planet? Can we use the cloud layers to mask our signature?”

   “The atmosphere is too dense for entry.” T’Sala’s tactical control panel beeped at her. “We are being hailed.”

   “Let’s hear it.” McCloud was not amused with how this was turning out.

   The bridge speakers cracked to life, emitting the translated message,“Unidentified vessel, you have violated Y’Takki space! Surrender and you will not be harmed.” With a snap, the line closed.

   “Friendly lot. You sure they haven’t seen us yet?”

   “I am certain. They have passed out of line-of-sight, however, they were scanning in no particular area. We are safe, for now.”

   “I wish we were Klingon. We could blow these bastards out of the sky.”



   “I’m glad we’re not Klingon,” Perkins said. “We’d have missed this lovely place. Probably would have leveled this planet and conquered the other.” The boy was well ahead of the group, and out of earshot from their casual banter.

   McDougal smiled at him. “I hope that everyone else is having such a wonderful time. I know I am.”

   They finished the journey to the village in silence. When he felt he was close enough, the boy ran off to one of the larger buildings, crying for his ‘Pop-Pop’ to come out and see what he’d found. A wizened old man came from the building with three younger men. They wore purple robes, without any trim or special adornments, save Pop-Pop’s. He wore a chain about his neck, the end of which held an old style Starfleet communicator.

   The six met the old man not too far from the building, his shuffling couldn’t carry him very far out. “Who leads this team?” he asked in a raspy voice.

   “I do,” McDougal started.

   “Very well,” Pop-Pop started, and then paused. With the speed of a younger man, he struck out with a vicious left hook and struck McDougal square on the jaw. “Take that back to your Starfleet, a special gift from my late wife.”

   McDougal staggered under the force of the surprise blow, but regained his footing. He motioned to his team that all was okay; not to shoot the old man. “How do you know?”

   “We’ve been watching!” Pop-Pop laughed himself into a deep cough, and then continued. “Ninety-eight of our years ago, three of your Starfleet men came to our planets. They chose Y’Takki to live,” he pointed to the sky, “and eventually, to rule over.”

Czar "Clearer yet?" Mohab

[Andromeda]

Clearer yes.  I almost think I don't like it.  The next part will tell.

[Governor Ronjar]

sh*t!

--thu guv! [thou hath surprised me!]

[Czar Mohab]

To keep you all in suspense over the weekend, and possibly all of next week, I post this. Also, I hope to keep the "Rommie" audience, but I won't know until after she reads this. Enjoy!

   
   “So,” Perkins started with a touch of unease on his words, “I have a couple of questions for you.”

   The village’s elder stopped himself from slugging this younger lad. These were a different people than his own, after all, and he didn’t intend disrespect by speaking out of turn. “Go ahead,” he begrudgingly obliged.

   “How were you watching us? I don’t see anything remotely capable of seeing us from space, let alone our orbit or landing here.” Perkins chose his words carefully, unsure whether these people knew of the actual level of technology of the current Federation.

   “What do you think those probes on Inarri are for?” Pop-Pop chuckle-coughed and continued, “we knew about your ship as soon as you entered the system, as do they,” he pointed skyward. One of his younger aides ran back inside the larger building at Pop-Pop’s gesturing request. His aide returned and handed Pop-Pop a bulky box-shaped object that the Starfleet personnel recognized immediately: a one hundred year old tricorder. Pop-Pop opened and activated the ancient device, and to the amazement of the crew, it still worked. Pop-Pop chuckle-coughed again.

   “How did you get these things?” McDougal interrupted the old man.

   “Because, Commander, I was Lieutenant Kermit Gabriel, formerly of the Earth Survey Ship Magellan.”

   “That is impossible!” Rankin started. “You would be…”

   “One hundred thirty-seven? Back then, Earth controlled several of her old navy ships, most had been converted for survey duty, freeing up Starfleet vessels for other things like war and peace. The four of us were disgruntled with the way things were turning out on Earth, so we left when we passed through this system. Commanders Bates and Lewis and Ensign Walker all took to living on Y’Takki, like I said already, while I chose to live here.”

   “What the hell happened then? Even back then there was the Prime Directive!” Perkins grew angry, and his words showed it.

   “Not for us. We weren’t part of Starfleet officially. Funded and supported by, and working for, yes, but for all intents and purposes, we were just humans. Back then, it didn’t apply to us. As for what happened, they infiltrated the Y’Takki government, eventually securing themselves in key positions.”

   Gabriel looked to his tricorder, and then motioned for the group to follow him into the large building as he turned and shuffled towards its door. “During their rise to power, they convinced the government to go to war with us here on G’Haalo. They dropped nuclear and biological weapons from orbit, devastating the planet. When the people here had enough, they unconditionally surrendered.

   “Before we arrived, these two planets knew only peace. In the distant past, they had an empire similar to Earth’s Romans on Y’Takki, but they didn’t stop at ruling their own world, they colonized G’Haalo before the empire fell.” One of the young aides opened the door for the group, and they all entered the cavernous building. Gabriel continued his shuffling towards a throne-like stick built chair at the far end.

   “No longer supported by the Empire, both planets fell backwards in time; forgoing maintaining the advanced technology for survival. Eventually, both regained space travel and learned of the distant relationship. Peace thrived.

   “After the surrender, Lewis used his wartime fame to secure the vote to Supreme Leader, and ordered that we here on G’Haalo be stripped of anything that could take us to space again. He did some good for the people here; he had the Y’Takki clean up this planet after the war.

   “Lewis wasn’t the real problem; it was Walker that was our greatest threat. He assassinated Lewis and took the seat of power. As reparation for the war and clean-up costs, he ordered the enslavement of G’Haalo.” Gabriel finally sat in his massive chair with a creak and a groan that was either the chair or his joints. He shut down the blinking device and returned it to its box-like state. “Since then, we’ve never been free.”

   “Are you the leader of this world?” McDougal asked him. “And what of Walker and Bates?”

   “I am village elder, nothing more. My age has given me centuries worth of engrained respect from these people. They value the old.” He smiled, then continued, “Walker and Bates were both killed long ago. Their children now rule the planet Y’Takki. They do not know my true name or where I came from. The three humans all thought I had died during the war. When the Y’Takki come here for you, they won’t know me from Adam.” He smiled sheepishly. “You have to go with them. We interfered with these people, we can’t change that, but you have an opportunity to fix what I can not, and secure a better future for these people.”

   The door to the lodge building burst open, revealing ten armed guards. They were clad head to toe in black combat armor, including a black helmet with black tinted visor. Their weapons looked viscous, and with a synchronous hum, the guards powered up their laser rifles. “We claim these six for slave duty!” the lead guard ordered.

   “Take them and be gone!” Pop-Pop called back to the guards. They entered and rounded up the Starfleet crew, and forcefully shoved them out of the building. In the late afternoon sunlight, the six could see a small shuttle-like craft in the close distance; it must have just landed, but there were only the ten guards. No one noticed as McDougal grabbed the outside of his pants pocket.



   “Receiving emergency beam out request from the captain,” T’Sala read from her board. “Shuttlecraft Many De’Oria is not responding.”

   “What is our status with the local ships?” Lieutenant Commander McCloud asked, fast becoming disappointed with how her first ‘command’ of the ship was going.

   “They are still searching for us, however they are in such a position that we could get a sizable lead on them before they come around the planet and see us.”

   “Helm, take us to Four, all ahead flank!” She pressed the command chair’s internal communications buttons, hailing the transporter room. “Transporter room, stand by for emergency extraction.” She closed the line shortly after getting her confirmation from the on watch transporter technician. “Restore full power,” she started. Behind her at the engineering panel, young Lieutenant Merten acknowledged her, and ship’s systems started coming back online. “And go to red alert, begin jamming all transmissions.” she finished.

   Cerberus sped from her hiding place, destined to rescue her crew from the botched mission. Half way to the planet, the two vessels sent to find them came into view of the fleeing ship and charged after her in hot pursuit. Their prey had superior speed; they could never catch her in a dead race. They soon learned that they were unable to contact their own reinforcements, and hoped beyond hope that someone somewhere would see their target and intercept.

Czar "Do I go the Kirk “Time Travel®” route or the Picard “Fix the Situation With Words™” route? The Sisko “Blows Stuff Up©” or the Janeway “You’re on Your Own™” route?" Mohab, who might surprise you.

P.S. I'm actually asking, kind of like a choose your own adventure thing, but not. I'd like your input, please.

[Czar Mohab]

It really is dead week....

Anyway, just thought I'd post this, hopefully to get a few laughs. Since no one responded to the question above, I took matters into my own hands:


   Cerberus fell into orbit around the fourth planet a little too fast. In the sky above the away team, a brilliant red flare was visible, distracting the guards just enough for the two Special Forces operatives to draw their phasers and stun six of them before they turned and reacted. The rest of the team was acting in overdrive, and with lightning reflexes, busied the remaining guards long enough for a phaser beam to find each one in turn, crumpling them into limp heaps of flesh. McDougal didn’t have time to deliver a swift kick to the one closest to him as the transporter beam swallowed him up in a shimmer of electric blue-white light.

   The transporter effect faded, and they realized at once they were on Cerberus’s bridge. McCloud filled him in on what had happened since they’d left. “Set a course for free space, Mister Michaels,” he said, taking his command chair. “We need to regroup and get away from those ships for a moment.”


For the On Your Own story, scroll down to JANEWAY

For the Blow Stuff Up story, scroll down to SISKO

For the Time Travel story, scroll down to KIRK

For the Word Salad story, scroll down to PICARD

For the What Really Happened story, you’ll have to wait.


JANEWAY


   Voyager shook with err…
   
   Cerberus shook with violent tremors as the first volley of fire came in from the alien craft. They’d managed to amass their entire solar fleet in the time it took to beam up the away team. Combat lighting illuminated the smoke filled bridge as shot after shot struck the vessel’s shields. With each impact, McDougal’s normally well kept hair shook itself loose; stray fronds of his gorgeous brown lock littered his scalp, giving him the look of a trimmed palm tree.

   Cerberus’s hails to the planet Y’Takki went unanswered.

   He paid his hair no mind, his thoughts only of his ship, his crew. He’d underestimated the capabilities of this tainted race. Surely, T’Sala would soon announce the weakening of the shields; McCloud the failure of a critical system. That’s when he’d strike, with full furry. This ship had seen a lot in the recent past, and this encounter here was just par for the hole.

   “Shields are failing,” Tuvok sai… Dammit…

   “Shields are failing,” T’Sala said above the din. “We can not survive much more.”

   “We’re loosing warp containment fields!” McCloud shouted. “Inertial dampeners are off line! EPS rupture on deck three! No power to the starboard phaser emitters!”

   There was nothing more that could be done here. The ship must be protected! McDougal thought to himself. Besides, they did fire first. “Target the lead ship, weapons systems only, let’s see if we can’t get their attention.”

   “Fire in the galley!” someone cried over the 4MC, the ship’s emergency only communications line.

   “I’m on it!” Jones said as she sped to the already waiting turbo lift. In a flash, the door shut and she was gone.

   Cerberus came about in a grand sweeping arc, bringing her main guns and fresh shields to bear on her harassers. Phased energy shot forth from the vessel, striking the nearest of the pursuing craft. Small fires followed the phaser’s path of destruction on that ship’s hull, followed closely by large explosions. The phasers had gone too far, and in a bright orange flash, the ship was gone. A deep sense of self preservation forced the other fifteen alien vessels further from Cerberus, but the orders to fire kept coming, and one by one, they were either destroyed or crippled with no hope of ever reaching home.

   “We are being hailed,” T’Sala commented from her lightly charred panel.

   “On screen,” McDougal ordered. The view of the debris filled battlefield shifted to that of an older man.

   “Why have you come here?” the man demanded. “Haven’t you humans done enough damage to our society? Now you lay waste to our refugee relocation fleet?”

   “Your slaver fleet, you mean?” McDougal asked as he stood.

   “Well, I suppose you would see it that way. Ever since your human friends took over and ordered the enslavement of G’Haalo… They never saw us as saviors. G’Haalo is fast becoming uninhabitable! We ended the slavery years ago, but our past war so decimated the planet that its climate is changing…”

   “I don’t think you want to be lying to me. All we wanted was to explore your system, see if there was anything worth while, and investigate the possible slave trade happening here. Your ships attacked us without provocation, and we defended ourselves. If there was a slave trade going on caused by our past influence of your planet, we would have offered both planets’ peoples a way to find restitution for our past mistakes. It’s obvious that you don’t want or need our help.

   “We’ll tow your crippled vessels into orbit, but after that, you are on your own.” The comm. line cut abruptly with a small gesture from McDougal.

Scroll to HAPPY ENDING

******
SISKO


   Cerberus shook with violent tremors as the first volley of fire came in from the alien craft. They’d managed to amass their entire solar fleet in the time it took to beam up the away team. Combat lighting illuminated the smoke filled bridge as shot after shot struck the vessel’s shields. McDougal sat in the center seat, calm and collected.

   “Incoming fire from the fifth planet,” T’Sala reported. “More enemy vessels inbound.”

   McDougal fought to straighten his mind. Was that the proper course of action? If he were Klingon, then of course it would be. But he was Human, a member of Starfleet, and a Federation citizen. He was bound by an oath, he couldn’t decimate the entire planet. But they did fire first.

   “T’Sala,” his calm voice filled the bridge over rattles of combat. “Destroy everything that is firing on us, defend the ship.”

   Phaser fire ripped through the unshielded hulls of the attacking craft, destroying most and crippling some. In quick succession, photon torpedoes left their tubes and found their marks on the planet’s surface. One shot, in a totally unpredictable fashion, found a deep fissure in the planet’s crust. The overloaded warhead sped more or less unhindered into the mantle and detonated.

   From her high orbit, Defiant watched as sev… sunnova…

   From her high orbit, Cerberus watched as several volcanic eruptions began to consume the surface of the planet. Cerberus left the smoldering rock, and made for home.

Scroll to BRUTAL ENDING   

******
KIRK


   “Call up all pertinent data regarding Kirk, James T., Spock, and time travel,” McDougal ordered.

   T’Sala looked back at him, clearly unmoved by the decision. Her hands worked her panel, like lightning they flew. It was a short moment before she was through; she had also worked in the obvious calculations in relationship to the local star’s mass, the ship’s mass, available fuel, and distance in time to be traveled. “Calculations complete,” she said without prompting. “Mister Michaels, if you will please follow the course already laid into the helm, we may begin.”

   McDougal whistled approvingly. “I didn’t ask for all that, but I’ll take it. Helm, you heard the lady. Let’s get going.”

   Cerberus spun silently in space about her axis, and made way for the Trellious star. Once she made it to warp, she began to shudder and shake. The star on the viewer grew larger, hotter. Small explosions from overloaded equipment plopped and fizzed on the bridge. The deckplates whined under the strain of warp and gravitational forces. “Now!” T’Sala shouted, a bit out of character.

   Maybe the thought of death is enough to overcome the rigorous Vulcan anti-emotion machine, McDougal thought as the ship sped away from the burning hot globe in the center of Trellious. 

   Silence filled the ship.

   “Picking up faint ion trail,” Perkins said, breaking the silence. “Possible early Earth Naval vessel.”

   “So they’re already gone?” McDougal asked.

   “Picking up a small craft on long range sensors,” Perkins added. “Early Earth style shuttle craft, entering orbit of the fourth planet.”

   “Life forms?”

   “Four, sir.”

   “Intercept and destroy that craft.” McDougal pondered the thoughts about how one or two of them might have done some good in this time. Or even in the future. But he’d dismissed that by thinking that they were rogues enough, and no amount of salvation could save them from the atrocities they would commit.

   Enterprise sped towards the smaller cr… motherless little…

   Cerberus sped towards the smaller craft, and in a small blaze of light, vaporized it without pause. “Let’s get back to our own time and see what good we have accomplished.”

   Cerberus repeated her performance of traveling through time, and with an unheard “pop” reemerged in the Trellious system.

   What they found astonished them all. Combat lighting bathed the bridge in its eerie red glow before the first phaser blast struck the ship. The Kzinti mining operation that they had stumbled into was rather well defended. So they were important, McDougal thought to himself as he ordered the ship to defend itself.

Scroll to BRUTAL ENDING

******
PICARD


   It was a long while waiting, but eventually the assault fleet gave up pursuit of the fleeing Cerberus. It was a brief pause in the moment, a rest for his brain, away for an ever too brief moment from the road ahead. “Options?” he asked them; and waited.

   “We could try to talk to them,” McCloud offered. “We’d have to try to offer them something useful, like a rehabilitation team.”

   McDougal nodded, but wondered, Where do we get one of those?

   “I agree,” Jones started, “but they’ll have to call off their dogs before we can do anything.”

   “I say we blow them all up,” MA2 Williamson added to the mix. “They’re already messed up anyway.”

   “They still deserve the chance to live like they were supposed to,” McDougal countered.

   Michaels spoke up from his helm station, “What about heading to the past? We could stop them from landing before they even get going. Then vwoop! We come back here and everything is fine.”

   “I thought about that,” McDougal said dryly. “It’s too risky.”

   The deliberations continued for almost an hour, finally resulting in what McDougal wanted from the beginning, to try to figure everything out.   

   “Open a channel to Y’Takki,” McDougal ordered, placing his cup of hot Earl Grey down on his chair’s armrest.

   “Emperor’s office,” the young man that now filled the view screen said.

   “I am Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the Fed… did it again…

   “I am Commander Shawn McDougal of the Federation Starship Cerberus. I would like to speak with your emperor, please.”

   “You already are!”

   “Good. We come from…”

   “My family has warned me that the Federation would be sending ships here eventually.”

   “Well, then, I guess you know why we are here?”

   “Hopefully to help us restore the leadership of this planet to the Emperor and strip it from the Chancellor of Peace. She’s been running this planet while the legitimate ruling party can do nothing but sit idly by. You’ve probably run into her ships and her slave traders. All her idea, yet I have to take the fall from that. Even the Great Wars were blamed on us, while she and her cohorts devised the entire thing!”

   “How can we help?”

   Almost an hour of talking finally ended, allowing McDougal to send a team to the planet to extract the Chancellor. The mission itself didn’t go too well, and ended up with the Chancellor’s untimely death. McDougal wrote it off as a step towards progress. The Emperor immediately halted all slavery on the planet and began a program to stabilize the relations between the two planets. Cerberus remained on station until a Federation negotiations team arrived.

Scroll to HAPPY ENDING

******
HAPPY ENDING


   With their business behind them, Cerberus and her crew left the Trellious system, a deep sense of remorse and success interweaving themselves into a bitter mix of emotion. They steadied themselves, squared their shoulders, and got ready for what lay ahead: The journey into the unknown. This, above all else, was their goal.

******
BRUTAL ENDING


   Cerberus plowed through another wave of fighters. Shields buckled and fell, missiles found their way through the defenses and impacted bare hull. The Kzinti assault fleet was merciless with their onslaught. Cerberus faired well, taking down two frigates and a destroyer before the big boys showed up. McDougal never in a million years would have thought that the Trellious system, so deep in the Federation’s frontier, would be claimed by the big cats.

   Cerberus kept moving, kept running. Power failed, two twisted stumps and a burning pylon were all that remained of the warp nacelles, denying them precious freedom. It was never a fair fight, it wasn’t the way of these cats. Before the ship began to disintegrate around him, a stray thought crossed McDougal’s mind: Isn’t there some rule about three carrier squadrons and a super space control ship fighting a lone frigate? He never got his answer, only the loud silence of death whispered in his ear.

Czar "Sorry about the quality, I was worried about space... and time." Mohab, who didn't want to spoil the actual story.

P.S. I'll edit this later, I REALLY need to get going!

[Governor Ronjar]

well... Ford dislikes time travel and would not consider it an option given what might happen could actually be worse...

Ford might not originally go the 'kill everyone' route, but...it might just oops-adentally happen anyway.

The Picard method would be what Ford WANTED to do...but is too cynical to think it'd work...

Thus, he'd likely envoke his General Order One right to bug the hell out and tell 'em, "You're on your own..." Then he'd tell Starfleet and let them handle it from there.

--thu guv!

[Andromeda]

I liked the previous installment.  However, the pick your own ending thing, not funny.

[kadh2000]

I agree with Rommie.  I think you got impatient and ruined a good story.  Although there was an awful lot of expository speech by the old guy in his last installment.  Of course the story is redeemable.

[Czar Mohab]

It wasn't meant as the end. Just some quick filler to "explore the options". I am not 100% sure if I'll be able to post more of the actual story in the next 2 weeks or more, so it was just something for everyone to chew on until I came back to writing and posting. No harm was intended.

By the way, you two didn't say which story you chose...

Thanks guv for the input. Might use that info later...

Czar "Lean, mean and green." Mohab

[kadh2000]

In order from the way I'd pick them top to bottom. 

Janeway - leave them to their mess!
Sisko - blowing things away solves all problems
Picard - only because the time travel thing is so over used
Kirk - well Jim-boy woulda saved the good 'un, beaten the Kzinti, restored peace in the system, and gotten girls from both planets.  So clearly McDougal isn't up to Kirk's standards.

[Czar Mohab]

The story continues! I hope it is enjoyed!


   McDougal led his party within the guards, ever searching, ever looking, for his ship or shuttle.  It was a more or less pointless endeavor, neither would be seen from the surface, but he kept looking anyway. He knew that they’d most likely have to distract the guards as soon as the beam out began; and he kept looking for an opportunity as the guards’ shuttle grew closer.

   The craft’s entry door opened as they approached, emitting an unnatural blue-green light from within. The guards in front of and next to McDougal moved faster towards the craft, leaving six guards for the six prisoners to handle. Sensing an opportunity, McDougal “tripped”, falling flat to the ground. He guessed that the four phaser shots that he heard before he could retrieve and fire his own concealed type one were from his two security guards. He didn’t have time to think more about it, nor fire his own shot, as the familiar tingle of the transporter consumed his body.



   “Four aboard!” came the frantic cry from the transporter room. “Captain and XO are unaccounted for! Readings indicate that the beam was redirected, but I can’t find them anywhere!”

   McCloud quietly acknowledged the call. “T’Sala? Anything?” she asked softly.

   “No readings from the planet or of the shuttle,” the Vulcan replied.

   “We’ll have to withdraw for now,” McCloud said solemnly. “Helm, take us out of system, best speed, any course.” The command chair felt unusually unfriendly to her, cold and callous.

   “Engaging warp drive, heading three two three mark two one one,” Michaels replied. “Entering warp nine point eight six.”

   “Helm, all stop once the system is at the edge of our sensors.”

   “All stop, helm, aye.”

   Cerberus cruised through space, putting distance between her and Trellious. Seconds passed like hours, but eventually she stopped and turned around, keeping a watchful eye on Trellious. Her pursuers stopped the chase, unable to make the faster than light speeds of this advanced vessel.
   


   It was cold in his quarters. Deep chills ran through his body, and pain followed each shiver, pain deep in his joints. He was tired, though. Too tired to adjust the temperature of the room, to tired to simply put on more clothes or add another blanket. Each shiver pushed him further from the sweet release of slumber, pushed him closer to finally giving in and…

   Whatever chance of slumber shattered with the warbling squawk of the alarming chronometer; the one reason he forced himself to endure the torturous cold. It had been a surprisingly long ten minutes.

   In the sonic shower, he washed his body; feeling the scars left from encounters in the recent past. Each old wound  was followed by a memory, a Klingon bar fight he’d started and won, shrapnel wounds left by a lucky Starfleet torpedo that almost took him and his ship with it, claw marks from an angry Lyran female, and so many others, he didn’t have time to explore them all. He watched the dirt and grime of the night wash off his slender, well toned body. The scars, however, stayed. They never come off.

   Following his shower, he dressed himself in his finest uniform. It wasn’t anywhere near the same style as those he’d worn in Starfleet, the reds, golds, blues…. Even the stupid looking red jacket/black trouser combo that someone thought was a great idea would have felt more familiar to him. He let the thoughts pass through his mind as he dressed, one leg then the other into the black slacks; fasten then zip, always it was fasten then zip. Green tunic with a gold leafy pattern followed over the white undershirt. Admiral’s stars found his collar, brilliantly reflecting the room’s dimmed lights.

   He paused to look in the mirror, looking back into his own rugged face, gazing deeply into his own eyes. He hated who he saw, hated the salt and pepper hair and goatee, hated the nasty scar that traced downward on his cheek; had the dagger been a centimeter higher, it would have claimed his right eye. He hated who he’d become, who they had forced him to become. He could have led a fleet during Unity if they hadn’t pushed him away.

   But he was raised to push on, pull through, keep going. No matter what life threw at you, you had to push forward and make the best of it. He’d lost his wife, his sons and his career because of the choices of others. He had been a Starfleet Admiral, Commander of the Third Fleet, but they took that from him. One mission forced him into piracy, earned him a name among the various cartels. It was, after all, Starfleet’s idea. How would it look to rehire a deserter?” one of the admirals had asked him once the praise of success dried up. They were right, of course, even though they had devised the entire desertion story as a guise. At the time, retirement wasn’t an option.

   He played their game, stole his own ship away from the fleet; a handful of his officers had joined him, many more than he’d thought reasonable. Loyalty, it turned out, was more valuable than even the most precious metal.

   He’d decided to be a pirate hunter; like a modern day Robin Hood, he’d raid pirate convoys, or break up pirate attacks on the weak or helpless. Unlike Mister Hood, he kept the loot for himself and crew, steadily building a stockpile of munitions and supplies.

   There had been a Federation starship that caught his eye once; its capture forever erasing the good deeds he’d done, but laid the foundation for his new fleet. Over the last two years, his fleet grew. Federation, Klingon and Kzinti ships were present, if few in numbers, alongside the standard pirate ships of the line. Despite all of his success, he hated every minute. He could never return to who he once was.

   A pirate shipyard ended up being a fabulous prize, on the Federation’s side of the Klingon-Federation-Kzinti borders. He’d set up shop there, outfitting and redesigning old vessels while pushing forth high quality new designs for the highest bidder. This part he did enjoy, if only marginally. There was nothing quite like taking one of his designs for a shakedown cruise. He’d also done the impossible, upgrading many ‘un-upgradeable’ ships to the experimental technology that was sweeping the galaxy. He did, of course, maintain close ties with friends in high places.

   Last night was the first decent sleep he’d taken time to enjoy in weeks. Chasing down the right convoys for plundering had taken its toll on him. Despite the scars and whitening hair, he hid it well. He finally refocused himself, combed his hair, and left for the bridge.



   He surveyed his bridge the instant the lift doors parted. He never found the design of the ‘Old Man’ cumbersome or awkward, rather, majestic and spacious, efficient and warm. He’d long ago replaced the center commander’s gunnery chair with a more simplistic Starfleet pair of command chairs, one for him and one for his First. Hauser, Howerton, Ramirez… They had all served him well during his former career. He continued his gaze forward of the blue grey command chairs, starboard and forward was the combined helm and navigations console. Lieutenant Biklis manned this panel, and to her left was the oft unmanned operations console. Most of the functioning control panels had been rerouted through the tactical and helm stations, and were the only two required to be manned every minute of every day. It wasn’t like the old days he remembered, where the port side science and communications panels were always manned; their Federation design a sharp contrast to the Klingon designed engineering panel, directly across the bridge. This