Topic: Cleopatra #2  (Read 14274 times)

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Offline Captain Sharp

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Cleopatra #2
« on: March 29, 2012, 04:53:52 pm »
Not a whole lot of action on the site lately, but here's the second installment.

Book Two     


Prologue


Alicia was running. But she wasn’t running fast enough. The thing was faster. Every time she thought she’d put distance on the thing, it was right there at the next corner. Leering at her. Maw full of fangs. Like some kind of macabre horror show about the monster you could never outrun.

The forest’s dense foliage certainly didn’t help her any. Nor did the moonless night’s blanket of darkness. She slipped on roots and wet fronds. She rebounded off trees. The thin mist coming down chilled her to the bone, soaked her thin shirt.

There were way too many of the things now. The colony’s meager defensive armament just wasn’t cutting it. At first they’d had little trouble controlling the outbreak. Now, with so damn many of them, the little laser pistol in her hand had proven hopelessly inadequate.

Alicia couldn’t even begin to catch her breath, she ran so hard.

She would die tonight. But that was alright. She had their attention, and that’s what mattered. No one else would die tonight. The others would have the time they needed to bring help to Roanal. No one else would die. They’d have 17 hours. Surely the Cleopatra would make it in 17 hours.

A huge snap told her it had ended around her again. The thing peered out from behind a filmwood tree, half-hidden in the darkness and the wispy tendrils of bark from the tree. Its eyes were lit with a vile, secret humor only it understood. It maw snapped quietly. Huge talons flexed. Long sinewy limbs prepared. Its distended gut bulged.
The most frightening thing about them was the utter silence with which they ran. The snap of the branch had been to draw her attention to it, to give it time to gloat for a second before it made the kill. They did sh*t like that when they new they had you. Creepy bastards.

It seemed to wink at her.

Her laser came up just a slit second before it came at her. She hit it. Maybe. She was beyond caring. It hit her so hard. She felt all over the cold-hot, zipping feeling you get when you slip and slice a finger with a knife. Not a nick-on-the-finger cut, though. Those bad ones that bleed like stuck pigs.

Shock hit her brain even before the pain. She might have been glad for that if she’d had the time to think about it. Instead she was caught full of wonder as she suddenly found herself looking down as the lower half of her seemed to just fall apart. Both arms went flying. Guts spilled into the darkness, glinting and looking much like the rest of the ground in her grainy vision. Bones she didn’t even recognize flew out of her. She recognized her heart easily enough. Other parts of her, spinning away.

When the ground reached up to hit her in the face, she realized she’d landed on one of her dismembered hands. The left. The one with the pistol. Her wedding band.

The things always went nuts after a kill, half gorging themselves on viscera and half-throwing bits about for décor. Her head wound up being in the latter category. Good thing. She really didn’t want to see the inside of the thing’s gullet.       
"Jayne?"

"Yeah?"

"You wanna tell me why there's a statue of you here lookin' like I owe him something?"

"Wishin' I could, Captain. "

Offline Grim Reaper

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Re: Cleopatra #2
« Reply #1 on: March 29, 2012, 05:01:20 pm »
Well i'd sum it up as death of a hero. But now I'm really curious about the rest, both the background as the main story. Cause there is more right?
Snickers@DND: If there is one straight answer in that bent little head of yours, you'd better start spillin' it pretty damn quick, or I'm gonna take a large, blunt object, roughly the size of Kallae AND his hat and shove it lengthwise up a crevice of your being so seldomly cleaned that even the denizens of the nine hells would not touch it with a 10-feet rusty pole

Offline Scottish Andy

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Re: Cleopatra #2
« Reply #2 on: April 02, 2012, 08:52:17 am »
Quote
Not a whole lot of action on the site lately, but here's the second installment.
What am I, chopped liver?

I tell you all I've completed a whole story and give you a fresh chapter, with many more to come after, and what do I get? Apart from a comment by Kind Q, neechevo.

Bah. My fragile ego is crushed.
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- Doctor Who: The Woman in the Fireplace (S02E04)

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Offline Grim Reaper

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Re: Cleopatra #2
« Reply #3 on: April 02, 2012, 10:50:52 am »
Quote
Not a whole lot of action on the site lately, but here's the second installment.
What am I, chopped liver?

I tell you all I've completed a whole story and give you a fresh chapter, with many more to come after, and what do I get? Apart from a comment by Kind Q, neechevo.

Bah. My fragile ego is crushed.

Whoopsie, I haven't got the topic on notification so I didn't see it (I hardly ever check the main index, I'm just using the notify for new topics as well). I'll add it to the list to read. But I expect it to be fun to read as always!
Snickers@DND: If there is one straight answer in that bent little head of yours, you'd better start spillin' it pretty damn quick, or I'm gonna take a large, blunt object, roughly the size of Kallae AND his hat and shove it lengthwise up a crevice of your being so seldomly cleaned that even the denizens of the nine hells would not touch it with a 10-feet rusty pole

Offline Captain Sharp

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Re: Cleopatra #2
« Reply #4 on: April 03, 2012, 05:05:04 pm »
Quote
Not a whole lot of action on the site lately, but here's the second installment.
What am I, chopped liver?

I tell you all I've completed a whole story and give you a fresh chapter, with many more to come after, and what do I get? Apart from a comment by Kind Q, neechevo.

Bah. My fragile ego is crushed.
And who are you again?

LOL, YOU, sir, are a lot of activity in and of yourself, sir. I meant OTHER than you. And me. Course, then I gotta include Q. Anyways.

And I hate liver, so no, you are not.

--Guv
"Jayne?"

"Yeah?"

"You wanna tell me why there's a statue of you here lookin' like I owe him something?"

"Wishin' I could, Captain. "

Offline Captain Sharp

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Re: Cleopatra #2
« Reply #5 on: April 05, 2012, 08:41:32 pm »
And yes, there is more...much more...

Chapter One


Ensign Lania was running. Past the impulse intercooler compartment. Past the port injector column. Past Recon 2. Between parting crewmen and their watchful specialist minder. Past Portside Berthing 2. She leapt in a single bound over the spooled conduit being laid to the port phaser room.

She was barely sweating. The cool human air of the ship prevented much of that. Sweat wasn’t essential to a good cardio rhythm, though. And her body fat ratio was optimal for her height and weight. She didn’t need to sweat.

She needed the exertion. And she knew why.

Lania rounded the starboard side, running past duplicate compartments to most of what lay behind her. Ahead of her. Endless circle. The outer most concentric passageway of C Deck made for a good run. 323.7 meters. She made the complete circuit of that length twenty times every morning. Beginning at her cabin door and ending there.

The ship’s gymnasium would have made for a more efficient, less problematic workout, certainly. But that small, enclosed compartment, crowded and so permeated with the lingering scent of human male testosterone… Right now, she would never be able to endure it. Her willpower was weakened. And she knew why.

No, the corridor was a far more practical place to get her exercise. Again, she started the circuit. Round the ship. Past the impulse intercooler compartment. Past the port injector column. Past Recon 2. Between parting crewmen and their watchful specialist minder. Past Portside Berthing 2. Again, she leapt over the spooled conduit being laid to the port phaser room.

Faster this time. Increase her cardio rhythm. 47 beats per minute. A literal rush in Vulcan terms. She needed the rush. The exhilaration flooded her system like a drug. Faster still.

The circuit again. Impulse intercooler compartment. Port injector column. Recon 2. Portside Berthing 2. Round the fore compartments. The same faces looking at her in astonishment as she shot by. Her tabi clad feet making a steady thunking beat on the steel deck. Another circuit. Faster. Faster still.

In three solid steps she came to a halt. Those faces staring at her now, in confused wonder, had brought her back to reality. Why were they staring at her like that? Was she creating that much of a commotion. Sweat trickled down from her hairline. Lania blinked.

I’m sweating, the ensign realized. How fast had she been running?

And for how long?

She checked the deck chrono.

0805 hours.

Late for her shift.

Lania stood there a moment in wonderment of her own. Sweat dripped to the deck. I’m late repeated in her head. With a sudden motion, she turned for her cabin and the shower. She’d never been late before.

Alone in her shared cabin, the junior officer paused before her mirror, trembling in the chill. I must maintain my control. It is not yet the time.

When her time came, what options would she really have? There were no Vulcan colonies out here. Her betrothed was three sectors away, and she’d discarded him, quite against tradition. Her shivering hand grabbed up a towel and she began to strip, still glaring at her reflection.

The comm buzzed.

“Ensign Lania, report to the bridge, please.” Said the voice of the technician she was to replace at her console.

“On my way.” She replied, naked now. She’d lost a kilo. Even for her species, she was not eating enough. She headed for the shower.

Hot water. Lots of it. She wrung out her hair. It was now six centimeters past her shoulder line. No reason to cut it yet. Males aboard seemed to prefer long hair. Why did that matter? She knew why. She killed the shower, dressed.
Uniform? Unisex style with trousers? No. Female dress style. Tan hose. Knee high boots. Hair down. She chose the bra that fit a bit snug. No reason it should fit different than the others. They were all 33-Cs. Machine produced. But the black one did. Perfect. Why did it matter?

She knew why.

Dressed and ready, she considered the time it’d taken her to prepare. She was 14 minutes late. It was completely uncharacteristic of her. But she couldn’t bring herself to hurry either. With a final adjustment to her boots, she headed for the bridge.





“Chrono malfunction, ensign?” Captain Sharp asked in a slightly raised voice as his communications officer stepped off the turbolift. He knew this was likely not the reason. But she was a good officer. And a Vulcan. He would provide her an ‘out’.”

“Yes, Captain.” Was her reply.

Sharp glanced back at her from the conn. Her hair was still wet. Uniform clung to her. Her breast was still heaving a bit from her morning run. She’d nearly run him down this morning. Hadn’t even broken pace. The greenish flush in her bosom and cheeks did her good, though.

“See to it you fix that, ensign.” Was all he said to her.

“Aye, captain.”

Lania took her station, allowing the grateful tech there to leave. He turned his attention back to the science officer.
Commander Susan Ellyson had a large map of their portion of the sector projected on her primary display. They were missing a Klingon warship. Had been for six straight days. Sharp wanted to know where it had gone. The possibilities were endless, and he didn’t like most of them.

“Our recon drones have yet to reach their target areas,” Ellyson began once she was ready to issue a report. “They like another sixteen hours of travel time. But once they’re in place, they’ll give us near total coverage of the areas obscured by the Tellurian Rift.”

“You think he’s just hiding out there behind the Rift?” He asked her. He didn’t think so.

“Negative, Captain. But if he returns to his previous patrol route, we’ll have passive assets in place to watch for him.”

Jon decided he liked her way of thinking. His eye went back to the main viewer. He had that odd sensation that some sort of trouble was coming. It was indefinite as yet. Just a hunch. Nothing to act on. But his Sixth Sense was definitely working today. Did it have something to do with his missing Klingon patrol ship?

“Leaving Section Five for Section Six, Captain.” Came from Ensign Davenport.

The Cleopatra had been out in this sector for three weeks. There wasn’t much here. It was a sector full of small time colonies, following whatever cultural or agrarian mandate their originators had dreamed up decades ago. It was an area of space ships traveled through on their way to more important places. This was why the Cleo was posted here. A less important ship plugging a less important gap leading to more strategic locations.
 
“Captain, incoming distress signal.”

Jon whipped his seat about toward the communications section. Ensign Lania still faced her console, concentrating on bringing in the weak signal.

“Origin, Ensign?”

“This sector…Roanal Colony, I believe. Now receiving audio transmission. They’re patching it in from a hand held device.”

“On speakers, Ensign.”

The overheads erupted into a wash of static that quickly cleared.

“—Come in, please. This is Elan Darvy calling from Roanal Colony. Do you read me?”

“We read you, Roanal Colony. This is Captain Jonathan Sharp on the USS Cleopatra. What is the nature of your emergency?”

“Thank God, Captain! I didn’t know if I was going to get this thing to work! Captain, we’re being hunted and killed off in scores by some sort of…alien creatures. We need immediate assistance! They’ve already killed six people, probably more!”

“What sort of creature, Miss Darvy?”

“I’ve never seen one like it before. And we couldn’t find it in the data banks. But it isn’t native to Roanal. It’s bigger than a man…long legs and arms. Long…wicked claws. It…it just tears you to pieces!!”

Sharp stood. He pointed to his piloting team. Davenport was already inputting navigational commands. Ford’s hand wavered over the warp controls. With his nod, Ford slapped the waiting control.

Cleopatra shot into motion, rending the light barrier effortlessly.

“We’re en route to you now, Miss Darvy. Are you in a safe location?”

“Y…yes, Captain. The sun’s coming up. They don’t hunt in daylight. We’ll be safe till tonight.”

“How long is your terrestrial day?”

“Seventeen hours.”

Sharp glanced to Ronald Davenport. The ensign nodded. They’d be there before Roanal’s day ended. Good.
“We’ll be there before nightfall, Miss Darvy. Till our arrival, I want you to gather as many people as you can into a safe, defensible area and gather me all the information you can about these creatures and your general situation. Anything you can provide us will be useful.”

“I…understand, Captain Sharp. Thank you!”

Sharp headed for the aft portion of the bridge.

“Number One, prepare two security strike teams. You’ll outfit them according to the information Miss Darvy can send us. Mister Ford, head down to the hanger deck. Ready both assault shuttles for deployment.”

“Aye, Cap’n.” Ford said, already sliding out of his chair and on his way.

The captain’s hand found the nearest intercom.

“Engineering.”

“Bornet here.”

“What speeds are we looking at today, Engineer?”

“I’ve got her holding at Warp 4.6. If she’s willing, I might coax point eight out of her. Maybe. Why? What are we running for…or from?”

“Distress signal from Roanal Colony, Engineer. Hostile infesting organisms.”

“Bug hunt, great. How long will we be running her this hard?”

“Seventeen hours or less.”

“Well, I can hold her together that long.”

“Give me everything she’s got, Mister Bornet.”

“I always do, Captain. Bornet out.”

Sharp returned to his conn. He pondered his instincts. This didn’t feel like the worst situation he’d ever run toward, but he felt plenty of possibility for danger. Would he lose any men today? Tomorrow? He decided to prepare everything he could while he waited for the Roanal Colony to call back with what information they could prepare for his crew.

"Jayne?"

"Yeah?"

"You wanna tell me why there's a statue of you here lookin' like I owe him something?"

"Wishin' I could, Captain. "

Offline Grim Reaper

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Re: Cleopatra #2
« Reply #6 on: April 06, 2012, 03:11:47 am »
Goodie, tyranids! ow wait damn wrong sci fi setting again ;)

Really liked the bridge to the previous chapter of Cleo with our Vulcan lady who's thinking not so ladylike thoughts. And I wonder where the Klingon went and what their contribution will be (if any).

Quote
And yes, there is more...much more...
This just makes me happy, so GIMME!
Snickers@DND: If there is one straight answer in that bent little head of yours, you'd better start spillin' it pretty damn quick, or I'm gonna take a large, blunt object, roughly the size of Kallae AND his hat and shove it lengthwise up a crevice of your being so seldomly cleaned that even the denizens of the nine hells would not touch it with a 10-feet rusty pole

Offline Captain Sharp

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Re: Cleopatra #2
« Reply #7 on: April 17, 2012, 06:29:52 pm »
Alrighty, folks (or just Grim, either way). Here's a bit more.
This story started out as a completely different idea, and had to be changed halfway through as my mood changed and...well. Its almost 2 stories in one, but maybe decently meshed. Remember to be forgiving while reading.

Most of all, enjoy.


Chapter Two





Lieutenant Ford ducked beneath the piping and the low hatchway over the briefing room’s entrance. As usual, the entire group of senior officers had gathered here before he could finish prepping the shuttlecraft, and they had started without him. Shaking off his aggravation, he took his seat in the darkened room and swiveled his seat to face the glowing comm viewer on the bulkhead.

“They’re just under three meters tall in most instances.” The viewer showed a slim black man in civilian clothing was explaining, pointing to a rotating hologram of a walking nightmare of teeth and claws and horns. “Heavy musculature. Tearing carnivore teeth and long, rigid talons. They have horns, and have been seen ramming their victims when in a dead run.”

The civy looked like he hadn’t slept a wink in a week and his hand shook as he pointed out each of the beast’s attributes. His workman’s uniform was clean enough, but he had a dried smear of blood on the back of his hand and another on his neck. He’d seen the creatures up close.

Commander Ellyson halted the speaker with a question.

“Are these creatures resistant to weapons fire, Mister Kanly? You’ve killed some of them, right?”

The fellow looked back to the screen sharply, a flash of anger in his eye. “Oh, we’ve killed them, alright, Miss. They die if you can get in a good enough shot on them. Stun pistols are useless. And civilian lasers aren’t very powerful, as you can imagine.” There was unvoiced incrimination in his tone. “The real problem with them isn’t that they’re hard to kill. No… the problem is that every 40 hours or so, their numbers double.”

Captain Sharp spoke up.

“Their numbers double, Mister Kanly?”

“That’s right, sir.” Ford noted the greater respect the colonist seemed to display toward his captain. “At first we thought that they were just converging on us in larger groups. But after a few nights, we began to notice obvious size differences in the creatures we were seeing in security vids. So we started bringing in the bodies of some of them we managed to kill. Tricorder scan showed definite signs of age.”

The biologist assumed a deathly countenance as he leaned in closer to his video pickup. “Captain, none of the specimens we’ve scanned is more than a week old.”

Many of the officers blinked. Creatures that large, that vicious, but so young. The implications of what such an organism could do if not controlled was appalling. Had this been a colony out on an undefended frontier world, with no Starfleet protection…

There would not have been anyone left when a starship finally came looking. Such things had happened in the past. Similar catastrophes. Never like this, though.

“Thank you, Mister Kanly. I’d like you to send us all your tricorder recordings and detailed surveys of your colony site and surrounding ground.”

Kanly nodded back to Sharp. The screen went dark and the room’s lighting returned to normal levels. The gathered officers gazed toward their captain. The captain looked solidly at their chief surgeon, Doctor Goodnight.

“What can you tell me, Doctor?”

The big man shifted in his seat, data pad held close in hand. He never paused from reading it as he began to speak.

“Biologist Kanly is right about them having no sexual organs. They’re not male or female. They have a naval of a sort on the back of their pelvis, just above the short tail. I’d suggest they either have a queen-type progenitor or they come from some sort of spawning cluster, like the Aldaraant Bat. They’re too complex for conventional asexual reproduction, though outer space might just throw us a curve ball there. Anything’s possible.”

“Which theory do your think most likely, Doctor?”

“I’d lean more toward a spawning cluster. In the case of the Aldaraant Bat, the cluster continues to grow, creating more and more gestation pods.”

“So we’re likely looking for some kind of birthing cluster. Somewhere out of the way, and easily defended.” Sharp looked to his exec. “Number One, you will select a command team to oversee operations on the ground from within the colony site. Mister Fujiwara and Mister Ford will lead the hunting parties from their respective shuttle craft.”

Ellyson waited for a pause to step in.

“You don’t want me to command one of the teams directly, Captain?”

“Just consider it a hunch, Commander.”

Ford had heard his captain speak about hunches and gut feelings often in the time he’d served aboard the Cleo. He relied on them quite exclusively and was seldom wrong. The former CO, Captain Pratchett, had often been overheard asking him what his ‘Sixth Sense’ said about many things.
 
“Very well, Captain.” Ellyson agreed. She didn’t like the idea of sitting still while others led the hunt. She wasn’t arguing though.

“We have thirteen hours before we reach Roanal, people. Get some rest. I want everyone on their game when we get there.”

With a chorus of ‘aye, sir’s, the department heads stood and made for the hatchway. Ford glanced back at the holo-projector and tried to imagine what one of those things looked like in the flesh. Suddenly, he was glad for their combat armor.





“The hell you say!”

“The hell I don’t! I told you I had that issue!”

“You’re full of it. Lemme see.”

Ensign Davenport hadn’t wanted to eat alone in the officer’s ward. Most of the junior officers were either on duty, or those like his friend Ford were doing as the captain ordered, and getting some shuteye before their mission to Roanal. Ron didn’t envy any of them, save for the missed chance to join in an off-ship mission.
 
Ron’s want for human companionship, no matter how distant, had led him to the crew’s mess on D Deck. The view out the fore viewports was better here anyway. More windows, wider panorama of the streaking stars and the haze of subspace.
 
The two jackasses he was sharing the mess with, though, made him question his need for human bodies to share a mealtime with.
 
He didn’t know either of the guys. Their ratings showed them to be buck crewmen. Red shirts. Engineers, likely. In the red head’s hand was a folded magazine. Given the scantily clad nature of the Andorian girl on the cover, he could guess as to the nature of the magazine’s contents.

“Don’t know if I should let ya see it, Crewman Shandowski. I mean, the lack of faith you’ve shown in my collection of smut is appauling!”

“She ain’t in there.”

“Guess you’ll never know.”

Shandowski gave the other young man a shove. Ron really didn’t want to break up a fight in the mess. He actually considered taking his tray elsewhere. But then, the officer in him wouldn’t let him. He decided to watch. He leaned back, arms crossed, unobserved.

“Alright, man. Here ya go!”

The one with the magazine finally relented and bent over the table they were horsing beside. He laid open the paper thing like it was the gospel and flipped slowly through pages of ladies bearing their all. Ron watched them with a smirk.

“Holy sh*t! It is her!”

“Told ya, dude.”

“Commander Ellyson! Totally nude!”

Ron was up before he knew he’d ordered his legs to stand. Both ratings looked back at him with a start. With the clean sleeves of an ensign, it was easy to be disregarded as just on of the boys. Now they were looking for his stripes and bars. Once they realized they had a junior officer on their cases, they visibly blanched, minds roaring through their trained lists of excuses.

Davenport crossed the compartment like death on horseback. When he reached the boys, he halted, hand out for the open magazine. The owner of it scooped it up shut and handed it over. He stared at each of them without expression, looking from one to the other.

“Names, crewmen!”

“Norman Waltz, sir!”

“Aaron Shandowski, sir!”

“Have the two of you eaten yet?”

“Yessir!”

“Aye, sir!”

“And how long till your next watches?”

“An hour, sir!”

“Yeah, we got an hour, sir!”

“Oh, I think you’re gonna be early today, boys. Assume your posts. Dismissed!”

Both crewmen left, eyes wide and feet moving swiftly. They cast frightful eyes back his way, and bolted out the hatch. Only then did Ron allow himself a smile. The both of them were probably quite sure he was going to turn them in for having illicit pictures of their ship’s XO. In truth, he just wanted to take it out of circulation.
 
And secondly…he wanted to see if it was true that Commander Susan Ellyson had indeed posed nude. He’d heard of the scandal before even entering the Academy. Then he’d forgotten about it. He hadn’t committed her name to memory then.
 
Suddenly conscious of the item he held in his hand, Ronald looked about the empty compartment and tucked the mag into his back pocket. He’d finish his sandwich and coffee in his cabin.



"Jayne?"

"Yeah?"

"You wanna tell me why there's a statue of you here lookin' like I owe him something?"

"Wishin' I could, Captain. "

Offline Grim Reaper

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Re: Cleopatra #2
« Reply #8 on: April 18, 2012, 01:52:58 am »
LOL, free p0rn ;) The aliens give me a bit of a Alien feel. Would be cool if something like a facehugger would be in your story as well. Or maybe some other way the higher numbers can be explained by the higher casualty count.
Snickers@DND: If there is one straight answer in that bent little head of yours, you'd better start spillin' it pretty damn quick, or I'm gonna take a large, blunt object, roughly the size of Kallae AND his hat and shove it lengthwise up a crevice of your being so seldomly cleaned that even the denizens of the nine hells would not touch it with a 10-feet rusty pole

Offline Andromeda

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Re: Cleopatra #2
« Reply #9 on: April 18, 2012, 02:54:44 pm »
Interesting people on that crew...
this sig was eaten by a grue

Offline Lieutenant_Q

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Re: Cleopatra #2
« Reply #10 on: April 18, 2012, 03:06:28 pm »
I would imagine that the nature of the crew is quite close to what you'd see on a wet naval ship today.  The, ah, inappropriate pictures of the XO is certainly unusual, but it's doubtful that its completely unheard of.  The interactions of the crew makes it very believable story.  Looking forward to the unraveling of the infestation, although it wouldn't surprise me at all if they had to abandon the colony because they can't solve the problem.
"Your mighty GDI forces have been emasculated, and you yourself are a killer of children.  Now of course it's not true.  But the world only believes what the media tells them to believe.  And I tell the media what to believe, its really quite simple." - Kane (Joe Kucan) Command & Conquer Tiberium Dawn (1995)

Offline Scottish Andy

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Re: Cleopatra #2
« Reply #11 on: June 01, 2012, 04:00:52 pm »
Innnnteresting! This story does seem to have two distinct plotlines underway. The Nasty Beasties and the Mass Debaters.

;D

I am very interested in both. Perhaps with more interest being shown, more chapters will be forthcoming?

My major trip-up of this story: I thought Lamia was an Andorian. I have an Andorian zhen character named Lamia, based on there being an Andorian female named that in the early TOS novel 'Bloodthirst' by J.M. Dillard. It was jarring to have her turn out to be Vulcan. I guess that means it is too long since I read Cleo #1. :)
Come visit me at:  www.Starbase23.net

The Senior Service rocks! Rule, Britannia!

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

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Offline Captain Sharp

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Re: Cleopatra #2
« Reply #12 on: June 16, 2012, 07:14:00 pm »
Sorry for the delay. Forgot I was posting these.

And before your blood pressure spikes, Andy, I intentionally misppell Claymore. Think of em as Space Claymores. But I threw a u in it just for you. Enjoy.


Chapter Three





The final coffin gently lowered into the six-foot deep hole to the mournful accompaniment of a bagpipe. About half of the surviving colonists gathered about the graveside, heads bowed as the service robot operated the coffin’s winch. This was the last burial for the day. God willing, it would be the last for a long, long time. The headstone was already in place, settled in by another ‘bot. The name Alicia Silvers shown in the ruddy afternoon sun.

The drone of an operating transporter beam drowned out the shrill wail of the bagpipe. 87 morose figures turned to look, seeing six shimmering swirls of light form into solid beings. At the group’s center was a blue shirted officer, a young redheaded woman with thick, curled locks. More colonists gathered to the sound of the beams. Hope finally began to shine in their eyes.

Commander Ellyson stepped forth from her team. They were all clad in hazardous environment suits, Starfleet’s multi-purpose armor. She’d chosen to remain in uniform, and had also decided on the more manly, unisex version. She wanted to project a lack of fear and professionalism.

“You’re finally here!” One of the younger men in the funeral procession exclaimed. “Are there gonna be any more?”
Ellyson nodded to him. Already, the transporter aboard ship was at work, beaming down the first load of support equipment she’d ordered. Her men began at once to deploy and unpack the gear once transport had finished. Another load began to beam in right after that.

Both the ship’s assault shuttles soared past overhead. The colonists watched them circle round, eyeing the terrain. When they began to drop into landing formation, the civilians were beginning to smile and clap one another on the shoulder.

“How many men did you bring, Commander Ellyson?”

Susan turned about to level eyes on the biologist they’d met over the comm earlier. Mister Kanly looked a little more rested than he had on the viewer. He’d washed off the blood. “Six in my command team. Two strike teams of seven aboard the shuttles. I’ll have additional support when I assess the situation. My men will need a clear place to emplace the modular sensor unit we’ve brought, and I want your help in choosing emplacements for the portable auto-cannon.”

Kanly blinked.

“Auto-cannon?”
Susan smiled.

“You want your colony defended, don’t you? We’ve brought our own on-site generators. What I want is a defendable building with a good clearing around it, large enough to gather most if not all of your people together.”

“I was hoping you’d be beaming us up to your ship till—“

“If it comes to that, we will, Mister Kanly. But I don’t think it’ll be necessary. For now the Captain only wants children, mothers and the elderly beamed aboard ship.”

Kanly nodded soberly. They were walking into the center of the town. A good knot of people had gathered around them as they spoke. Kanly pointed out a large building in the City Square. It had a heavy stone fascia.

“How about City Hall?”

“Not enough clear space around it. I need clear fields of fire in all directions. And I’d like to cut down on damage to the surrounding buildings.”

Kanly smiled at that. He halted and thought it over.

“We have the warehouse. Normally it’s full of farm machinery. We can move it out for a night or two.”

“Show me.”






Lieutenant Ford made the final adjustments on his armor’s chest piece and stepped out the back hatch of Assault Shuttle 2. The colony’s town was a pleasant looking collection of rustic buildings. Were it not for the lack of a highway, it might have passed for any small southern township in North America. He’d grown up in a town much like what this one could have been like.

And he’d hated every bit of it.

The lieutenant (junior grade) paid an eye to the overall size of the place. There were lots of hidey-holes for the beasts to tuck themselves into. It would be all but impossible to wipe them out easily. But then, they’d planned for that. Ford turned to his team for the first time.

“Emplace the peripheral guns there,” he began to point out the corners of nearby buildings. “There…and there. Put the sensor head up on top of the church.”

One of the junior hands blinked.

“How do I get up there, sir?”
“Beam up there if ya gotta, Shane. But get it up there ‘fore nightfall. When you’re done, get with the XO and see if her team needs any help finishing their setup.”

“Aye, sir!”

Ford watched his strike team disperse, hands filled with black equipment packs and plastic cases. He stepped back into the shuttle for his tricorder, intent on a scan or two.

“What’s the plan, Sergeant?”

Ford’s head shot up from where he bent over the pilot console.

“Huh?”

A blonde headed lady of probably 40 stood at the head of his boarding ramp. Her white blouse was rumpled, but clean. It seemed all the colonists wanted to put their best forward in the sight of visitors. Their pride was admirable considering what they’d gone through till now.

The lady had tiny black rimmed glasses pushed high on her nose. She’d even put on some lipstick. Ford tried not to be overly amused at what women thought important at times like these.

“I was just asking what your people’s plan was…Sergeant?”

Ford smirked at her, striving to keep his eyes kind.

“Lieutenant, ma’am. Sergeant’s a rank in the Assault Command.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Lieutenant!” She blushed a bit. It looked good on her. Went down past her neckline. “I’m not familiar with Starfleet…officers.”

Ford stepped down out of the ship, unsnapping his scanner. His huge grin became an infectious thing.

“Me neither! Where’s the highest point I can reach without standing on top of that church?”

Surprised at the opportunity to be useful, the lady glanced about at the buildings she doubtless knew by heart. “You can get all the way to the top of the granary, Lieutenant. It’s almost as tall as the church steeple.”

“Ford, ma’am. Name’s Ford.”

“Elan Darvy, Mister Ford.” She smiled, offering her hand.

“You sent the first signal.”

“Yes, I did. I couldn’t get into the comm center in the mayor’s office. I had to relay through my hand comm. Daniel tried to make it, but they… took him down.”

Ford lost his smirk. He found his hand wrapping about the much shorter woman’s shoulder as they walked across the township.

“Don’t you worry none, Miss Elan. We’re gonna kick them critter’s asses right back where they came from.”

“My god, Lieutenant… We had thought they were multiplying.” Miss Darvy shook her head. Her eyes seemed so care-worn. “Last night…there had to have been a hundred of them. They just kept pouring out of the woods. We fought them. We just can’t handle them alone.”

The hollow edge in Elan Darvy’s voice tugged at the helmsman’s innards. Made him sad and angry at the same time. He was beginning to wish the creatures were here already, that his shipmates were done with setup, ready to fight.

“Well, you wanted to know the plan, right?”

She perked up.

“Yes.”

“We’re deploying robotic, static defenses. Rotary phaser auto-cannon. Nastiest field guns we carry. We’re settin’ ‘em up all over town with sensor support and fire control from our ship in orbit. Then we beam out the non-essentials, and the rest of ya hole up where ever Commander Ellyson decides to set her headquarters. We wait for ‘em to come, and we start slaughtering them.”

Miss Darvy blinked at Ford’s choice of language. She’d expected something a bit more humane, perhaps. Something more altruistic that ultimately would be impossible to carry out. They walked in silence for a bit.

The silo came into view as they rounded the city hall building. It was good and tall. Ford thought a moment about relocating the sensor unit he’d ordered to the top of the church, but thought against it. The church would give the better coverage within the valley’s terrain. The silo was too close to the eastern bluff that helped to form the valley.
“Do you think you can really get them all with that plan?” Miss Darvy asked suddenly, breaking Ford’s train of thought.

“No. That’s why we brought these.”

Ford opened up the pouch attached to his web belt. Within was a holstered air pistol and three magazines full of darts.

“Tranquilizers?”

“Tags. We’re gonna let some of ‘em get back to their den. Then we track ‘em there and take out their hive or whatever the hell they got.”

They reached the side of the silver silo. Ford looked the thing over. The door was shut and pad locked. The helmsman glanced back to his attractive companion.

“Is there a ladder?”

“Around the back is a lift they use. Hope you’re not scared of heights.”

Ford grinned.

“Ma’am, I fly a ship through space.”

They chuckled a bit as she led him around to the back of the granary. The so-called lift was little more than a narrow diamond plate platform with a slim handhold and a simple control panel. It probably had a hover pad on the bottom to propel it up, guided by a rusty rail welded to the side of the silo. Ford looked up the rail, gulped.

“Did I mention I’m scared of heights?”





Lieutenant “Mike” Fujiwara stood at attention as he handed over his scan results to the XO. Commander Ellyson looked the pad over, flipped through the pages of electronic data and field notes.

“I’d say we’re set, then.” She commented.

“Yes, ma’am. Ford’s team is already prepping their shuttle for standby. I’ve deployed his team to the east flank of this building, among the parked earthmovers. My team is on the southwest. When the Deathclaws come, we’ll make short work of them.”

“Deathclaws?”

“It’s what some of the colonists have taken to calling them.”

“Good a name as any.”

“Indeed. Any further orders from on-high?”

“Just a request from our surgeon. And I quote: ‘If ya can, get me a live one.’”

“I’ll take that under consideration.”

“Precisely what I told him. Stun energy doesn’t seem to affect them. And I don’t intend to try and coax one into a cage.”

“I’m actually hoping there isn’t much left of them after the first perimeter line.”

“Amen.”

The two officers shared a short chuckle and turned to gaze out the warehouse’s south facing windows. The sun’s last rays were still caressing the landscape, glinting off the armored shoulders of her men outside. The mass of civilians pressed in behind them amid the few farming rigs that remained inside spoke to one another in hushed voices. They were tense. Worried. Ready. Fujiwara felt much the same.

The security chief unstrapped the helmet from his belt and slid it on. The HUD came up in dim blue lines, showing him the ranges to everything his helmet’s laser range-finder pointed at and the condition of his hazard suit. He hefted his rifle.

“Ready?” Asked the XO.

“As I can be.”

Mike turned and headed outside. His team hunkered behind the bulk of their shuttle and behind a milling machine. A glance showed him Ford and his men, doing much the same amid the farming rigs. More of his security grunts would be positioned behind the warehouse and at other points in town, ready to fight.

Mike’s heart lurched with a concussion he felt quicker than he heard. He looked west, saw a cloud of gray smoke roiling about in the dimness of the tree line. The first perimeter. The Deathclaws had found the Claymours.
A deep howl reverberated from within the forest, and all the foliage about the colony town came alive with motion. Mike hunkered to a half-crouch, rifle ready, as Claymour after Claymour detonated. The howls became screeches of pain and anger. His men moved about nervously, anticipating. Specialist Anderson was scanning with his tricorder.

Mike hunched down beside him.

“What do you have?” He had to shout.

“I ain’t got sh*t, LT! Sum’bitches ain’t showin’ up!”

Fujiwara cursed, tapped his HUD control twice. The darkening landscape devolved into a panorama of muted reds and blues. The woods were a cool pink, save for the sudden heat flares of exploding mines.

Now he could see them. Their shapes weren’t definite, not like a human would have been. More fuzzy and faint, like a Vulcan. Low body temperatures…

“Switch to infrared!” Mike shouted into his tac-comm. “They’re in range!”

Both teams opened up as one, firing into the woodlands in short, concentrated bursts. Mike fired at two of the beasts he could make out, watched them leap and hop away. He couldn’t tell if he’d hit. He switched his comm to the command frequency.

“XO, scanner’s can’t pick the creatures up from here! They’re already here, in force!”

“I’m switching the auto-cannon to visual attack,” She responded. “Standby!”

“They show up on IR, but not out beyond 80 meters!”

“Roger that!”

Mike stood up, moved to the end of his team’s line of cover. HE could just make out the hazy silhouettes of a multitude of waiting Deathclaws, just hovering outside the perimeter line. What were they waiting for?

The auto-cannon opened up just then. They roared and chattered, sounding more like ancient machineguns than energy cannon. The surrounding landscape lit in a fiery crimson of phaser energy that made rifle fire look puny. Trees snapped off mid-trunk at the contact of multiple hits. Fires began to erupt as the underbrush caught fire. The beasts were obscured in the heat of the flames.

Mike killed his IR vision.

What he saw them were three dozen leering, saber toothed maws, lit in the licking tongues of flames that danced before him. The beady eyes burned in the firelight, malevolence amplified by the devilish hue. They were tensed to leap, even as the auto-cannon were taking them down.

“Kill your IR!” Mike shouted into his comm. He lifted his rifle and opened fire.

One shot wasn’t enough to bring them down, even from a phaser rifle. He pumped three into his first target. It never paused in its lunge toward the flaming line of foliage. One jump took it clean over the flames and the remaining Claymour trip-lines.

It was but the first of many.





“Still no alien life signs in the scan area, sir.”

Captain Sharp leaned down over the sensor tech’s seat and tapped a series of controls. His men below were able to see the things on infrared. The Cleo’s IR showed nothing. He grimaced, his own equivalent to a vehement curse, and switched on the ship’s exterior cameras.

“Zoom in on the colony. I want to see what’s going on down there.”

“Aye, sir.”

Sharp buried his anxiety. He had teams on standby in the transporter room should things turn dire down on the surface. One look at the overhead camera angle quelled his fears. His men, despite the creatures’ tenacity and resistance even to phaser rifle fire, were holding their own. The creatures were dropping. Damn they were fast. He caught sight of one as it leapt over an earth-moving vehicle in a single bound. His men and their closest auto-cannon caught the thing in mid-flight. The auto-phaser tore the thing to ribbons as it descended on his men. Till the animal came apart in visceral gore, it never stopped aiming for its targets below.

The beasts faired far worse the closer they got to the Starfleet strike teams. Once within the confines of the town proper, they were fully within the firing arcs of several auto-cannon at once. The combined crossfire cut them down in droves.

Sharp backed away from the science station, letting his technician continue without the weight of his commanding officer bearing down on him. Jon let his mind drift off in thought. His Sense told him that there was more to this situation down there on the planet. The pre-colonization survey had been thorough. Nothing like this animal had been found, either as an existing animal or in the fossil record. Sure, things got missed. But for a yearlong survey to miss something this big? Creatures like this would cause a devastation among the local animal populations that would be recorded for eons.

“Technician, begin an in-depth orbital scan. I want you to map and detail every piece of space debris within sensor range.”

“Sir?” It was a hefty order.

“Get the entire science staff on it.”

“Yes, sir!”

If these things didn’t originate on the planet below, then they had to have come from above…
"Jayne?"

"Yeah?"

"You wanna tell me why there's a statue of you here lookin' like I owe him something?"

"Wishin' I could, Captain. "

Offline Scottish Andy

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Re: Cleopatra #2
« Reply #13 on: June 20, 2012, 10:50:25 am »
Quote
And before your blood pressure spikes, Andy, I intentionally misppell Claymore. Think of em as Space Claymores. But I threw a u in it just for you. Enjoy.
The one time you don't need to... *rolls eyes*

I'll read this later and comment then.
Come visit me at:  www.Starbase23.net

The Senior Service rocks! Rule, Britannia!

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

2288

Offline Grim Reaper

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Re: Cleopatra #2
« Reply #14 on: June 20, 2012, 03:08:11 pm »
I just love the idea of a space ship smashing from orbit... And that's the only crit I have ;) Joking aside, I liked the chapter, still feels like aliens to me. Only better alien killing ;)
Snickers@DND: If there is one straight answer in that bent little head of yours, you'd better start spillin' it pretty damn quick, or I'm gonna take a large, blunt object, roughly the size of Kallae AND his hat and shove it lengthwise up a crevice of your being so seldomly cleaned that even the denizens of the nine hells would not touch it with a 10-feet rusty pole

Offline Captain Sharp

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Re: Cleopatra #2
« Reply #15 on: June 20, 2012, 09:20:18 pm »
Quote
And before your blood pressure spikes, Andy, I intentionally misppell Claymore. Think of em as Space Claymores. But I threw a u in it just for you. Enjoy.
The one time you don't need to... *rolls eyes*



LOL. Just had to do it man. Some cliche's that I use make me think of you and your reactions. Same with my mistakes. I'll be writing this mess and just start chuckling. My coworkers likely think I'm crazy, since I write most of these on lunch break.

Grim, glad you're enjoying. This is far from my best stuff. The first story flowed much better than this one did. I nearly scrapped this one several times, but slugged my way thru and finally managed something keepable. So long as it entertains, I'll consider it a moderate success.

More to come.

--Guv
"Jayne?"

"Yeah?"

"You wanna tell me why there's a statue of you here lookin' like I owe him something?"

"Wishin' I could, Captain. "

Offline Scottish Andy

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Re: Cleopatra #2
« Reply #16 on: June 21, 2012, 11:20:58 am »
Quote
LOL. Just had to do it man. Some cliche's that I use make me think of you and your reactions. Same with my mistakes. I'll be writing this mess and just start chuckling. My coworkers likely think I'm crazy, since I write most of these on lunch break.
It's good that I'm making you laugh. :) And think. Hopefully to change your story and make it better? ;)
In my book, clichés are good to use as long a the characters realise it is a cliché. Clichés become clichés because they are real situations that happen so often as to become ridiculous, so if my characters don't know it is a cliché it seems weak to me. ;)

To the chapter: I re-read the story from the start to regain the feel of it and to remember who did what.

I like the response plan. A colony is under attack by creatures, so they beam down with a full combat support team and weapons emplacements, as well as aerial recon/transportation options. If I lived there, I'd be reassured by this approach.

Nice description of the town too. The characters are all real, if all from Middle America. ;)

The attack is gripping. Very 'Aliens', but different enough. I was hoping you'd not cut off there and leave it for the next chapter. :)

Waiting for more to read.

Including feedback. Hint hint.
Come visit me at:  www.Starbase23.net

The Senior Service rocks! Rule, Britannia!

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

2288

Offline Captain Sharp

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Re: Cleopatra #2
« Reply #17 on: June 28, 2012, 07:11:42 pm »
Chapter Four





“They’re runnin’!”

Lieutenant Fujiwara looked up from his rifle sights. Ford’s shout had broken through his killing concentration. The helmsman was right. The few beasts he could see through the smoke and haze were now running away from the colony.

Dammit! We haven’t tagged them, he realized.

“Ford! You tag any of them?” He projected back to Team Two’s position.

The armored junior lieutenant pointed down to the one lying at his feet. “Just that’n!”

‘That’n’ didn’t have a head. Smoke roiled up from its twitching shoulders. With a curse, Mike panned the area for viable options.

“Did anyone tag one of the bastards?”

“Negative, sir!”

“No, sir!”

“Sorry!”

They were all over us. No one had the time.

Mike pointed to Ford.

“Get to your ship! We gotta get these things tagged!”

“Aye!”

As Fujiwara bolted for his own shuttle, followed by his troopers, the lieutenant whipped out his communicator.

“XO, Strike Team One! Hostiles are escaping into the hills. As yet, none are tagged. Beginning aerial pursuit!”

“Roger that, Team One. Will monitor.”

“Roger, out!”

The captain’s voice broke in.

“Auxiliary teams are beaming down from Cleopatra to support you, Number One.”

“Aye, aye, Captain.”

Fujiwara smiled at the captain’s forethought. He’d just eliminated any possibility of the things circling back around for another attempt on the town while his teams were in the air. He didn’t leave anything to chance. The security chief dodged his way through his assault ship’s interior to arrive in the pilot’s seat.

Preflight had been completed and the ship left at standby. She was ready to go. He had but to wait on his fleet-footed men to get aboard and strap into their positions.

“Open the side doors!” Fujiwara’s second, Chief Gunnery Officer Lo’sii shouted back into the crew compartment. Her Tenatran voice was shrill, hard not to hear. It was part of the reason he’d made her the assistant chief of security. “Mount the heavies!”

As the ship lifted free of the packed earth and grass, the doors on either side rolled back out of the way. Armored soldiers strapped themselves to the doorframes and assembled the standing swing-mounts for the ship’s two heavy repeating phasers. Both guns were in place and drawing power before they had topped the passing trees.

Mike aimed his craft for the still burning foliage his men had set to blazing. He could see the last relief team still beaming in outside the warehouse. His ship hit the wall of smoke from the flames. He dropped some altitude, fired up the search beams.

“You see ‘em?” He shouted back to his guys.

“Not yet, sir!”

“Make sure you tag some this time!”

Fujiwara caught the unhappy grimace of the grunt on the starboard side’s gun-mount. He wasn’t as anxious to just pop a dart into the fleeing Deathclaws as he was to blow them to pieces. But he drew the pistol-like dart gun from his holster and extended its tiny shoulder piece.

“Portside! Portside!”

The left-hand gunner was pointing with vehemence out his window. Mike swung his craft that direction as his copilot aimed the search beams down into the dense tree scape. At first, the lieutenant made out nothing.

Motion drew his eye first. Flashes of gray moving fast. Had to be them. Several of them. Had they really left that many of the things alive?

“Swing right 30! I’m taking the shot!” His port gunner shouted.
 
Fujiwara swung the shuttle, killing the aft thrusters.

With an electric tinged ‘chap-chap-chap!’, the gunner squeezed off a series of shots. Instantly, the shuttle’s geo-tracking systems plotted three moving blips on the screen.

“Good shot!” He called out. “I think you got one of them twice, though.”

“Sorry sir! He had an extra big ass, thought there was two of him!”

“Get a few more into them!”

“Sir,” Lo’sii gesticulated off to starboard. “Another group, moving fast, bearing 340!”

“Starboard side! You got a shot?”

“I see ‘em, LT!”

“Let ‘em have it!”

The door gun began to roar. The muzzle glare lit the entire right-side window to the point of star-lit brilliance. The stream of tracer-like blasts rained down into targets Fujiwara could only trust were really there. He worked to keep his ship steady in the air, near to unmoving, while his gunners worked. More moving blips were zig-zagging along on the map before him. Trees were being shortened and reduced to burning heaps of splintery confetti to his right.
There were days when he loved this job.





“Captain…”

Sharp turned his seat about. Ensign Lania was stepping down from her console, report pad in hand. The junior officer was flushed a slight pea-color. He didn’t know exactly what that entailed, but he had been noticing it for several days now. Stress maybe. He took the pad from her.

“Sir, the reconnaissance drones deployed by Commander Ellyson should have reached their final positions three minutes ago.”

“Are you receiving telemetry from them?”

“No.”

Sharp glanced at the pad. It was a detailed time-table, modified by the ensign to list any normal and expected factors that might have caused the drone’s delay in transmission. None of them looked pertinent to the spatial conditions in the sector.

“Have you determined a cause for the lack in response, ensign?”

“Malfunctions are possible, Captain, but unlikely in this many drones. Jamming is also possible, but it would have to be specific and deliberate.”

“More likely they never dropped out of warp…at least intact.”

The captain gave his comm chief a nod and turned back to the viewscreen. The planet revolved before them blissfully, ignorant of the strife on its surface and the intrigues above it. Sharp eyed the planet’s sole moon, Kratus.

“Mister Davenport, load a Class Two recon drone. I want it to scan the other side of that lunar body.”

“Aye, sir.”

“Science, begin scouring the planetary Grange Points at the north and south poles.”

“Aye, aye, Captain.”

Jon’s Sixth Sense was beginning to burn. Things that shouldn’t have been related were beginning to come together in his mind. And he didn’t like the shape of it all. He hoped he wouldn’t find…

“Drone away.” The tall navigator called out. The little probe shout out from its home ship with a plume of blue fire.
“No elicit energy signatures from the Polar Regions.” Came from the sensor tech. “Beginning visual scan.”

“Contact!” Shouted Mister Davenport, suddenly sitting rigid in his white chair.

“On tactical!”

The monitor to the left of the viewer snapped on to show the Cleo circling slowly around a huge hunk of the globular mass below her, with the much smaller moon off ahead in the distance. A tiny, flashing red blip winked away on the exact opposite side of the dusty hunk of rock.

“He’s been hiding in the moon’s La Grange field!” Davenport said, voice full of accusation.

“ID, Navigator.”

The barest of pauses.
“Klingon, sir! He’s engaging impulse engines!”

Sharp’s hardened suspicion had proven right.

“Red Alert, all hands battlestations!”

The alarm began to wail its repetitious song, accompanied by flashing red tracers. Crewmen who had been standing about flew instantly to stations. The excited chorus of reporting voiced blanketed the bridge. Sharp gripped the hand rests of his conn like the grips of a rifle.

“Shields up, Captain! Full power!”

“Phasers armed and activating. Acquiring active target!”

“Loading torpedoes, Captain!”

“Impulse power at your discretion, warp power ready!”

“Signaling Away Team, Captain. XO is upraised of our situation.”

Sharp listened to it all, watched the little green-hulled ship circle out from around the crater-covered moon to face them. The ship’s design was all too familiar. The long neck ending in a boxy command pod. Thick engineering body flanked by thick wings, holding long engine nacelles. Beneath its main hull, the ship’s heavy disruptors waited for battle. No doubt it was designed to be awe inspiring to its creators. To Sharp, however, it inspired loathing and anger for the work it was known for.

It was a D-5 class battlecruiser. Over a century old, the design could still be found throughout the Klingon military. It was an older design than the Cleo, even. They were still deadly.

“Klingon slowing now, Captain.” Ronald reported. “Coming to a halt outside phaser range.”

“Standard hail, ensign.”

“Klingon vessel, this is USS Cleopatra, respond.” Lania paused, listening studiously for response. “Klingon vessel, stand down your defenses and state your intentions in this sector. Failure to comply will result in the use of deadly force against your ship. Respond.”

The main screen snapped onto a darkened image of the Klingon’s bridge. Blurred-out images of their consoles lined the perimeter of the compartment, framing the ship’s commander as he turned his chair to face Captain Sharp.
The Klingon CO bore the rank of commander. The commander had the traditional, long mustache and a hint of a beard that pointed down like sharpened fangs. Slightly slanted eyes gazed back evenly, darkly, lit with their own humor. He bore no cranial ridges, like many of the Klingons human ships encountered in this day and age.

The man drew Captain Sharp’s full attention. His Sense told him this was a man about whom many important things revolved, despite his secondary rank. Jon stood up, tugging his tunic straight.

“Commander Klingon ship, you are in violation of treaty here. You will withdraw.”

“I have no wish to combat you, Captain Sharp. Our mission is merely one of monitoring and has nothing to do with your Starfleet.”

The man’s voice was silky. Sweet. Sarcastic. Sharp inwardly blanched over the commander’s knowledge of his identity. Jon had no idea who this man was. 

“I’m sure. You can just consider that mission over and remove yourself from this star system.”

“I respectfully decline your offer, Captain. No, rather I will wait till the object of our surveillance has resolved itself. Then we will make our departure.”

Sharp half hid a snarl.

“Commander, might I inquire your name?”

The D-5’s captain shrugged a little.
“I am Rell, Captain Sharp. It is only proper that equals know the name of the man they pit themselves against.”

“And you’re here to pit yourself against me, Commander Rell?”

“Not today, Captain. We’re only here to monitor a situation on the planet.”

“The creature outbreak?”

“A menace, Captain. To be sure.”

“You knew of them?”

“We’ve encountered them before.”

“Did you bring them here?”

Rell smiled.

“Such accusations are beneath you, Captain. Truly.”

I won’t get a straight answer out of this bastard, Sharp knew.

“You knew of these things and of course, have done nothing to stave off their attacks?” He goaded.

“As you’ve said, this system is not currently under the rule of the Empire.”

“If you think wiping out 1200 colonists is going to change that for you, you have another thing coming.”

“Such is not our mission, Captain.”

“Whatever your mission, you’re going home.” The captain added a last note of finality to his words. “If you do not disengage, we will attack you.”

Rell smiled broadly.

“Captain, I did not come here to fight you. And should such a contest erupt, your ship would come out the loser, I assure you.”

Sharp smirked.

“Wanna bet?” He turned, making the cutthroat gesture to his comm officer as he approached her console.

“I take it they’re jamming our transmissions locally, ensign?”

Lania nodded.

“Aye, Captain. Local, targeted interference. I am attempting to break through.”

“Discontinue. Do we still have contact with our lunar recon drone?”

“Aye.”

“Then prepare to relay a burst transmission to it. Send a detailed report on ship’s situation as well as a warning that I believe the Klingons are compromising our patrol zone at this moment in the area we abandoned to come here. Relay that to the drone to be transmitted to Starfleet Command, Starbase 12.”

“Broadcasting now.”

Sharp looked back to the scout-raider floating out there before his ship. Now to see what kind of response the Klingon captain was willing to unleash…

"Jayne?"

"Yeah?"

"You wanna tell me why there's a statue of you here lookin' like I owe him something?"

"Wishin' I could, Captain. "

Offline Scottish Andy

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Re: Cleopatra #2
« Reply #18 on: July 24, 2012, 12:48:35 pm »
Quote
There were days when he loved this job.
Is 'Ride of the Valkyries' playing over the shuttle 'com too? :D

The inclusion of an old D-5 reminded me of our discussion in 'Shuttle Ride'. I'll attempt to come up with another segment of that today.

Nice little chapter of your own, and I'm looking forward to seeing just how the Klunks are involved here. And how Lamia's situation plays out.

I have also been struck with the idea of taking your situation and having one of my crews deal with it. Your guys are border patrol/standard navy. My crews are... not. :D
I'd like to see how the Kusanagi or Falklands crews would handle this situation. Perhaps a second outbreak in the late 2260s or 2270s? :D
I say this because I think for this situation your approach is the correct one to take, so I wonder what would happen to a crew here who tried to follow my pattern... and the people they are supposed to be protecting. Worth a story, do you think?

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Offline Grim Reaper

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Re: Cleopatra #2
« Reply #19 on: July 25, 2012, 02:32:20 am »
Feels kinda like tour of duty meets aliens, Which is a good thing!
Snickers@DND: If there is one straight answer in that bent little head of yours, you'd better start spillin' it pretty damn quick, or I'm gonna take a large, blunt object, roughly the size of Kallae AND his hat and shove it lengthwise up a crevice of your being so seldomly cleaned that even the denizens of the nine hells would not touch it with a 10-feet rusty pole

Offline Commander La'ra

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Re: Cleopatra #2
« Reply #20 on: July 26, 2012, 12:18:41 am »
I say this because I think for this situation your approach is the correct one to take, so I wonder what would happen to a crew here who tried to follow my pattern... and the people they are supposed to be protecting. Worth a story, do you think?

I sorta got the image of that little moment from Starship Troopers where they put the cow in the same room with the bug...
"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 Captain Sharp

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Re: Cleopatra #2
« Reply #21 on: July 26, 2012, 10:51:56 pm »
By all means, Andy. Take it and run with it! You'll get slightly more details later, but not many. Feel free to flesh out the origins of said critters and all the mumbo-jumbo you want. Drive it like ya stole it.

And Grim, as I wrote all those scenes, I got a very similar feeling. I remember the scenes from FMJ...

"How do ya shoot women and children?!"
"Easy...you don't lead em as much!"

Gotta love Animal-Mother. May be remembering the quote a bit off, but it's close.

Hope yall are enjoying. More to come this weekend.

--Guv
"Jayne?"

"Yeah?"

"You wanna tell me why there's a statue of you here lookin' like I owe him something?"

"Wishin' I could, Captain. "

Offline Scottish Andy

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Re: Cleopatra #2
« Reply #22 on: July 30, 2012, 03:48:43 pm »
Quote
By all means, Andy. Take it and run with it! You'll get slightly more details later, but not many. Feel free to flesh out the origins of said critters and all the mumbo-jumbo you want.
Done and done.

Quote
Drive it like ya stole it.
lol...

And yes, I am enjoying it. Keep on truckin', good buddy.
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The Doctor: "No idea. Just made it up. Didn't want to say 'Magic Door'."
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Offline Captain Sharp

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Re: Cleopatra #2
« Reply #23 on: July 30, 2012, 09:00:07 pm »

Chapter Five





“Jam it!”

Rell’s communications officer worked his controls like a man possessed. He knew it unwise to displease this ship’s commander. In the end, the result was inevitable.

“I could not, Commander. The drone’s command signal was on a secondary band. It sent its transmission before I realized what it was doing.”

The comm officer hazarded a glance up at his CO. Rell just stood there, thumbs hooked into his belt, staring down at him. He held the stare for a deadly length of time.

Finally, Rell just shrugged. He looked back at the discolored pile of dilapidation that floated out there ahead of them, its garish running lights blinking with annoying rapidity. First Officer Turak stepped up from his station.

“Orders, Commander?”

“Our job here is done. We leave.”

Turak bristled with outrage.

“We will walk all over that ship!”

Rell paused in his movements to alight in his chair. He glared at his exec with ire.

“That is outside our orders, First Officer.”

“Our orders do not dictate we behave as cowards!”

“No, they dictate we distract this sector’s patrol vessel while weakening Federation colonial efforts. They include the parameter to monitor Starfleet’s response to a Rech’brach outbreak. We have completed all these.”

“None of that precludes our taking a prize on the way back home!”

“General Tor has ordered all ships in this quadrant to engage in no actions to provoke the Earthers unnecessarily. We do not have the ships to waste.”

“Nothing will be wasted in removing that scrap heap from this sky.”

“Possibly. That is my decision.”

Turak crossed his arms. His countenance became predatory. He outweighed Rell by half or more. “And you are a coward.”

Rell drew and fired in one motion. The blue bolt caved in Turak’s face and blew it out the back of his skull. His gore bathed the backside of the unfortunate communications officer.

The commander holstered his pistol with a distasteful movement and took his seat. A junior officer moved to remove the steaming corpse.

“Pilot! Full thrusters. Return to previous patrol section.”





“They’re moving off, Captain.” Ensign Davenport confirmed, eyeing his board as the bird-ship leaned into its turn and accelerated away on the viewer. “He’s going to warp speed.”

“Monitor his progress, ensign. Stand down battlestations, maintain standby alert.” Sharp moved toward the comm station again. “Get me the XO.”





Lieutenant Commander Ellyson breathed a slight sigh as the captain ended his update of the orbital situation.

“That’s good to hear, Captain.”

“What’s the progress down there, Commander?”

“No injuries. Both shuttles currently tagging and thinning down the Deathclaw population. We’ve counted 67 of the things here at the town site. All dead. I was about to signal the recall to let the surviving creatures to go home.”

“Carry on. We may have reason to believe that our Klingon friends introduced the present situation to the colony. If that’s the case, I’d like to have some proof of the matter to take home to Command. See what you can do to acquire that for me, Number One.”

“I’m not sure how good an idea that is, Captain.”

“Explain.”

“Well, sir. My systems show the tagged creatures converging into one location. Their lair or den appears to be within the hilly terrain northwest, near the river six klicks from here. Its heavily forested terrain there, rocky, riddled with caverns. I don’t think any team I send in there will have an advantage over the Deathclaws.”

There was a pause as the captain mulled that over from orbit.

“You’re saying it would be an unnecessary risk.”

“Aye, sir. Sorry.”

“Save the apology, Commander. You’re the ground site CO. Very well, then. Advise me when the creatures have relocated back into their den, and we’ll carry out the eradication.”

“Aye, sir.”

The XO felt like she’d narrowly avoided a bullet. Sending a strike team, even a heavily armed and protected one into that close-in terrain would have given her the casualties she’d avoided today in the firefight against these things.
Whatever evidence the captain wanted from the creatures’ den would have to be collected in the morning, after the den was destroyed.

“Ensign Savoy. Recall the assault shuttles. Time for the next phase.”





By morning, the tagged beasts were all confirmed to be gathered in one large area within the hills near the colony site. As the sun arose over the mountain range to the northeast, the townsfolk gathered to watch as a series of photon torpedoes rained down through the atmosphere to reduce the Deathclaw cavern to a blackened hole in the earth. The impacts of the matter/antimatter missiles shook ever building and set the civilian to cringing, hands held tight to their ears. But their relief was evident on their faces when the all-clear report came down from the orbiting starship.

For Roanal Colony, the long night of fear was over.

Captain Sharp beamed down with the first group of returning colonists. He stepped clear of the older folks as they smiled and thanked him, patting him on the back. Commander Ellyson, Lieutenant Fujiwara and several of the colonists were waiting in a small group as he came near.

Biologist Kanly was the first to speak.

“Did you get all of them, Captain?”

“We’re not certain, yet, Mister Kanly. But I have teams beaming down there to determine whether any of the creatures survived.”

“But you’ll…make sure…right?”

Sharp gave the man a reassuring look.

“We’ll make sure we got them all before we leave orbit, Mister Kanly. My crew is very thorough.”

“I’m sure Cap—“

Sharp’s gaze remained polite, but steely.

“Apologies, Mister Kanly. But I have important details to work out with my executive officer.”

Mister Fujiwara smiled, taking the hint. He slid an arm around the civilian’s shoulder to lead him away.

“No problem, Captain. I need to discuss the security measures we’ll be leaving behind with Kanly and a few of the others.”

“Very good, Mister.”

The two command officers walked away and into the midst of the township. Sharp eyed the simple beauty of the homestead’s design. He had no wish to live in such a place though. His job was to make places like this one safe.

“Our teams are already on-site?” Ellyson began.

“Mister Ford and Mister Davenport are leading two teams. I’m hoping they’ll also be able to find some kind of evidence that the things were beamed or shuttled here by our friends in the sky.”

“So we’ll know exactly who to point the finger at when war breaks out?”

Sharp had to smile.

“Something like that.”

“You could have opened fire on them in orbit. We have almost every reason to believe they’re responsible for the creature infestation.”

“Almost. But nothing concrete.”

“Maybe, Captain. But…it seems like we just let them get away with a crime.”

“Challenging them in orbit would not have solved anything, I’m afraid. And the Cleo is badly matched against a heavily upgraded D-5. Rell had every chance of winning that fight.”

“We could have taken them.”

“Maybe. It wasn’t worth the risk. Especially with our job only half done here on the planet at the time.”

“So, what did they gain by staging all this?”

Sharp halted their progress. They had reached the smoldering area of tree line last night’s firefight had torn to bits. The smoke from the flames was still wafting about thinly.

“While we’ve been here, they’ve been moving something in or out of our patrol zone. I’ve had stellar cartography create a map of the area uncovered by our absence the last 24 hours. The gap is…considerable.”

“Could they have sneaked assets into the Federation interior?”

“Not in the time allowed. They would have been traveling past warp twelve to do so. When my message reached Command, they ordered the USS Constantinople in to cover the interior approaches from this sector. She’ll remain there till we’re done here, and she’ll be our reinforcement should another attempt be made in force.”

Commander Ellyson looked out over the destroyed bit of forest. The desolate ruin they’d created to defend these people stood out in stark contrast against everything the colonists had created for themselves.

“I just don’t feel like we’ve accomplished much here, Captain. I feel like the Klingons got one over on us today.”

“They did, Commander. But those people back there are glad we were in the area.”

Susan looked over her shoulder. More of the young were beaming in from the ship, glad to be reunited with their families. Glad to be back home, and safe. They’d still be in danger were it not for the crew of the Cleopatra.

“Are you telling me to concentrate on the battle we can win, Captain?”

“Something like that, XO. Let’s go see how the mop-up is going.”
"Jayne?"

"Yeah?"

"You wanna tell me why there's a statue of you here lookin' like I owe him something?"

"Wishin' I could, Captain. "

Offline Grim Reaper

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Re: Cleopatra #2
« Reply #24 on: July 31, 2012, 01:35:19 am »
Wouldn't a disrupter to the head seen as dishonourable? It's effective though ;) I wonder if you'll have more though, I still want to know about Ms Vulcan and the possible evidence. Lol, I just made a Freudian slip didn't I. A well, hooray for boobies  ;)
Snickers@DND: If there is one straight answer in that bent little head of yours, you'd better start spillin' it pretty damn quick, or I'm gonna take a large, blunt object, roughly the size of Kallae AND his hat and shove it lengthwise up a crevice of your being so seldomly cleaned that even the denizens of the nine hells would not touch it with a 10-feet rusty pole

Offline Captain Sharp

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Re: Cleopatra #2
« Reply #25 on: July 31, 2012, 03:49:33 pm »
This particular Klingon isn't nearly as worried about honor. Which was the point of the scene. Rell is not the typical Klink, at least, I try to make him different. His personality will unfold in coming chapters/stories.

--guv

And yes...hooray for boobies!
"Jayne?"

"Yeah?"

"You wanna tell me why there's a statue of you here lookin' like I owe him something?"

"Wishin' I could, Captain. "

Offline Scottish Andy

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Re: Cleopatra #2
« Reply #26 on: August 01, 2012, 10:35:52 am »
Rell strikes me as a typical TOS Klingon, as fleshed out by the '80s novels. I'm sure the Guv will be simply delighted with that characterisation. :D
The First Officer annoyed me as being overly argumentative, and since he's just a Klingon I was very happy, nay delighted, that he had his brains blown out/melted away/disintegrated.
Just kidding. But, well, you did set him up for that, so... ;)

Nice ending to the Deathclaw threat, if it is perhaps not the end of the story. You haven't written "The End" yet, anyway.

It seems to me that Ellyson is a little to focussed on the Klingons; they seem to be her primary concern and saving the Federation citizens is distracting her from what the Dastardly Villains (TM) are up to. Not to say she didn't do her job in that regard very well, I guess she's just a Big Picture. (TM) person rather than a "Big Picture is made up of all the Small Pieces" person. (TM).

So, there is more?
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Offline Captain Sharp

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Re: Cleopatra #2
« Reply #27 on: August 01, 2012, 07:23:30 pm »
There's always more. Somewhere.

Yeah, this one keeps on going, though it could have ended there easily enough.

Rell is meant to be a TOS Klingon, definitely. But, being RogTrek (tm), he'll wind up a lot more brutal than TOS Klinks (compared to what you SAW them doing, opposed to what you heard about them doing, such as gunning down 100 Organian hostages). Still writing along with him.

This isn't the first time I've used him, though.

As to 80's novel-Klingons, and 80's Trek novels in general... I get a chuckle from most of em. They were making it up as they went, like any writer. If they'd have been in control of on screen-Trek at the time, their vision is what we would have had. So I'm not un-flattered by the comparison.

The bit with the Klingon XO was definitely telegraphed. You knew it was coming as soon as the scene started. Stereotypical. It was meant to be. I wanted it shown right off the bat, what sort of man Rell is.

And you're right about Ellyson. She got all gung ho about takin down some Klingons, there. Almost like she has something to prove...

--guv
"Jayne?"

"Yeah?"

"You wanna tell me why there's a statue of you here lookin' like I owe him something?"

"Wishin' I could, Captain. "

Offline Captain Sharp

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Re: Cleopatra #2
« Reply #28 on: August 07, 2012, 10:32:24 pm »
Chapter Six





Lieutenant Fujiwara stepped up to the conn, report pad in hand. Captain Sharp glanced his way, prying his attention from the tactical readout to the port side of the bridge. He’d been reviewing the stellar topography of Cleopatra’s patrol zone, paying particular mindfulness to the Tellurian Rift.

“Report from the surface, sir.” Mike said.

“Any findings?”

“Negative, sir. No sensor trace of transporter activity or aircraft landings aside from our own.”

“And the Deathclaws.”

“She’s got you calling them that too?”

“The commander’s even named them Deathclaws in her reports.” The captain shrugged.

“Well, as to the Deathclaws, their den is entirely destroyed. Samples of the gestation sacks are in Medical. The rest we burned. We took samples from the river to make sure no genetic material spread down stream. No traces. And in the last 14 hours, we’ve had no contact with surviving creatures and no hint from remote sensors that any of them have avoided our searches.”

“Just the same, you’ll detail two squads to remain with Roanal till the colonists are satisfied they’re dead. Leave a Senior Specialist in charge.”

“Aye, sir.”

“What assets are still on the planet?”

Mike flipped the pad he’d been offering about to read for himself.

“Both shuttles are back aboard. Strike Team One is aboard ship, as is most of Team Two. Mister Ford and two others remain on planet. Mister Ford is still off duty, I think. Must have decided to spend the night.”

Fujiwara knew exactly what the junior lieutenant was doing down there. He noticed things of that sort. He figured the captain just attributed the occurrence to Ford being a country-boy. He went on.

“Per XO’s orders, four of the auto-cannon are being permanently hardwired into the generators inside the colony warehouse. I have a squad building dura-concrete redoubts around them. They’ll be done by nightfall.”

“Anything further?”

“We’ll be ready for departure by planetary nightfall, if not before. If needed, we could have all personnel back inside of five minutes. Our groundside objectives seem complete. Something on your mind, Captain?”

Sharp nodded, dark eyes drawing back to the tactical map.

“Just a hunch, Lieutenant. Get some sleep.”

“Aye, sir.”

Sharp glanced aft as the lift doors closed behind his security chief. He pondered the uses of the gaseous rift centered in the map he’d called up as he waited for the orders he was expecting from Starfleet Command. By now, they had received a full report from the Constantinople, which had doubtless discovered nothing with her sensor range. Commander Rell’s plan, or at least the plan he was following, was quite good. They’d planned for the Constantinople’s presence nearby.

Time passed slowly as he waited, patiently. Ship operations went on, smooth and orderly. He ordered a sandwich and coffee. The shift changed, finally reverting to the normal selection of bridge officers. Ford reclaimed the helm, looking refreshed from his night of rest beneath a planetary sky.

“Receiving transmission from Starfleet Base, Captain.”

Satisfied, the captain rose and went to Lania’s console as she decoded the transmission. It was a recorded visual from Admiral Minton.

“Put it up on this console, Ensign.”

The Vulcan officer tapped the keys swiftly. The older commanding officer’s face snapped into clear view before the two of them. Several bridge officers halted to watch what the veteran had to tell them.

“To Captain Sharp, Commanding USS Cleopatra. From Starfleet Operations. Captain, your are ordered to suspend your normal patrol duties and leave a suitable force on Roanal Colony to safely handle the present situation during your absence.

Command has reviewed the situation in your sector and the actions of Klingon forces, as reported, has caused us concern. USS Constantinople has pursued every option available to her crew and turned up no evidence as to enemy intentions.

“Starfleet Command has decided that you, as the closest asset, must investigate further in what ever way you decide, to determine Klingon motives in distracting our patrol forces away from that corridor of space. Take whatever procedures you deem necessary to achieve success. Discovery of Klingon intent is considered to be paramount.
 
“This is order is signed by Admiral J. Komak, C-in-C, Starfleet Command. Good luck, Captain. And good hunting. Minton out.”

Ensign Lania’s left eyebrow soared high.

“They were quite non-specific as to the methods they would prefer.”

Sharp almost smirked. Someone trusted him back there.

“Indeed they were, Ensign. Have all crew reported aboard?”

“Save those security personnel ordered to remain on-site, Captain.”

“Then inform the colony that we’ve been ordered out.”

“Aye, sir.”

The aft turbolift hatch gave way before Commander Ellyson. The XO strode near to the captain, and halted with hands clasped behind her.

“Comm sent me a prompt that we’ve received new orders, sir?”

“Yes we have, Commander. We’re to investigate why the Klingons wanted us distracted.”

“Good. How are we going to do that, sir?”

Sharp inclined his head to the still revolving image of the Tellurian Rift on the tactical grid. Both the ship’s pilots glanced that way with them.

“First you’re going to confirm for me that Rell’s ship is still heading off behind the Rift. Then we’re going to make use of it.”

“How, sir?”

“We’re going to bushwhack him, Commander.”





The captain’s words sent a thrill through the bridge and put every officer to work at a frenzied pace. The synergy created by their CO’s assuredness and audacity gave them an anticipation for events that might normally have given them worry. Right now, the prospect of jumping a superior Klingon warship did not seem unduly dangerous. Especially knowing what they’d likely done on the planet below.

Mister Ford glanced aside to the navigator.

“Mister Davenport, looks like we might see some ship-to-ship action.”

“Seems so, Mister Ford.”

“Any comment on that?”

“God help the Klingons.”

Ford’s wide smile had been catching the navigator’s attention since the younger man had returned to the ship this afternoon.

You’re awful chipper since coming back home, Mister Ford. Any reason behind that?”

The two of them kept their voices low as they worked. Behind them, the captain and XO had rerouted to the science station and were scanning to the course of the Klingon Bird of Prey. The enemy ship was still bound for the far side of the gas rift that bisected the sector.

“Could be, Mister Davenport.”

“Hmm.”

The helmsman smiled. The two pilots had become fast friends in the short time they’d served together since Cleopatra’s relaunching. But the bridge wasn’t the best place to talk about romantic interludes with native colonists. The ensign laid in three prospective routes for the Cleo to take when the captain gave them the order to embark on their bushwhack. Ford pointed to the one he’d suggest and Ron nodded his agreement.

“Oh,” said Ron suddenly, voice still at a conspiratory level. “I got a certain Women of Starfleet magazine you might want to see sometime.”

Ford’s face went slack.

“Helm,” Commander Ellyson’s voice projected from aft. “Break orbit. Full impulse power. Mister Davenport, make our course for the Tellurian Rift, Section 515. We’ll narrow down our course as we close in. Helm, stand by maximum warp.”

Both pilots rapidly punched in the orders to their controls. The ship swung out of orbit, leaving the blue and green world behind them. The little gray moon slipped out of sight as they aimed past it.

“We’re clear and free to navigate.”

Sharp had planted himself in the command chair. In his eye was a stony resolve normally reserved for negotiations and battle.

“Warp speed.”





Four hours. Four hours of flight at maximum warp. Flying at a sustained warp factor 4.8 after only having done the very same thing for 16 hours the day before. This ship was old. And the captain was asking a hell of a lot from him.
Lieutenant Jave Bornet was not a person to complain. He might comment and cajole and provide sarcastic narrative…but he was not a complainer. He was a Tellarite, after all. And if nothing, a Tellarite was an honest being.

And to be honest, Jave was quite close to complaining.

He knew Sharp was about to ask him for more speed.

Jave stalked between intermix monitoring panels, brushing aside the occasional impeding specialist from his path to stand between the twin rows of plasma conduits dominating the technological cavern about him. The dilithium intermix chamber, EPS power taps and both monstrous energy converters that provided the ship’s power took up the space of a factory. Encased within the metal hull of the Cleopatra, the dirty, scarred machinery produced the sound of a grinding metal lathe six inches from the ear. The crewmen near to the turbine section usually had to use headphones to blot out the sound and communicate with those about them.

With the exception of the dilithium chamber itself, most of the gear in the engine room was a half-century-old. It was ancient. The warp coils were webbed with hairline fractures, sealed with tender love and care, over and over.

And the captain still would ask for more speed.

He knew it.

Jave fingered his short beard and stalked over to the temperature control panel. The youth there still had not learned to yield the console to the chief engineer when approached, and still had to be gently shoved out of his rightful spot. At least he’d learned to stop lashing out at the engineer for uprooting him. The pup was learning.

“Oominoominoom-a-noonmiinoo.”

Ensign Mianar had crawled up atop the console without Jave’s seeing her. He hated when the Mienieni officer pulled that crap. She was damn sneaky, not having feet or limbs. Or clothes. The yellow, tendril-covered alien wore a red sash about her mop-shaped form, denoting her department, which was adorned with rank striped and the Starfleet emblem. Her bulging cat-eyes, which didn’t blink nearly often enough, were glued on him as her tiny nose-mouth warbled out to him.

“I know core temperature isn’t the problem. It’s the coils. We don’t need any more damn fractures.”

“Ooomi-nooo. Nooonaoominooo.”

“No I am not being irate. My engines just need constant supervision. By me.”

“Ooo-nooo. Nooo-oorinooo.”

“I trust my people to do their jobs. It’s just that no one knows these engines like I do.”

“Ooomiiinooonanoominooo.”

“No, no. The only thing that needs replacing is the damn warp engines.”

“Ooo-noomiinooriinooo?”

“No there aren’t any spare warp engines for this class. At least not in any better shape.”

“Orrinooominoooo-tnnn.”

“Yes I have checked. The least worn out coils are on the USS Cheyenne. And they have more space hours on them than ours do. She’s been sitting in the scrap yard for a decade.”

“Ooomiiinooonanoominooo?”

“As it happens, I do have a way to solve our problems. I can construct totally new nacelles for this ship with minimal cost and a couple months of dock time. But Starfleet doesn’t want to spend the money on a 50 year old starship and the captain doesn’t want to give me the yard time.”

“Orrinooominoooo.”

“Exactly. They just want me to keep pushing a pile of debris that’s already been pushed too long and too hard for too long—“

“Bridge to engineering.”

Jave jabbed the nearest comm control.

“Bornet here, Captain.”

“Engineer, Rell’s ship has passed behind the Rift. We’re narrowing our vector to a more acute interception angle, and we’re going to need more speed.”

Just as Jave had predicted.

“I don’t have much more than this to give, Captain.”

“Then you’re going to have to be creative, Engineer.”

Bornet took the time for a three-count.

“Captain, if I pour any more hot plasma into these over taxed coils, they’re going to start fracturing again. If they fail—“

“Then we’re either crippled or stranded. Just get it done, Engineer. I need factor five point three or better.”

“Acknowledged!”

Bornet killed the comm link and glared at the three-foot high ensign standing atop the console before him. She stared back, blinked once, and event that wouldn’t occur again for two more hours. He smirked.

“Captain wants more speed. Get on it.”

“Oooonooo!”

“Well, you were just complaining about how I don’t delegate responsibility enough. Now you want me to do everything for you?”




“Holding at warp five point three-seven. Course remains steady.”

Captain Sharp nodded to the navigator’s report. The gray-white vapor of the Tellurian Rift was washing past the ship out the left-hand side of the subspace-streaked main viewer. Not far to go now.

If Rell’s D-5 had maintained course and speed, it would be nearly adjacent to the Cleo on the far side of the giant cloud. The two ships were invisible to one another because of the gas cloud. The captain would not be able to finalize his plans till he knew exactly what the enemy ship was doing on its side of the Rift.

“Very good. Drone ready?”

Ford’s head bobbed.

“Aye, Cap’n. Mark 16 deep reconnaissance drone, loaded into tube two. Ready to launch. Its warp boosters are go.”
Sharp took another measuring glance to the display on the left. The tactical map showed them nearing the final quarter of the long, narrow ion-charged cloud.

“Launch drone.”

Cleopatra rocked side to side.

“Drone away.”

The captain did not miss the irony that he had probes aboard that could easily outrun his starship. At least for a few hours. He also had a courier shuttle in the bay that could leave her in the dust.

“Drone entering Rift.” Ford followed up, watching the telemetry. “Steady at warp six point five. Heading for listening post. She’s gone to radio silence. Semi-directional transmitter checks out. Fading from contact now. She’ll reach destination in twenty-three minutes, seven seconds.”

“Steady as she goes, helm.”
"Jayne?"

"Yeah?"

"You wanna tell me why there's a statue of you here lookin' like I owe him something?"

"Wishin' I could, Captain. "

Offline Grim Reaper

  • The 4th Horseman, the Lord of Death
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Re: Cleopatra #2
« Reply #29 on: August 08, 2012, 03:16:34 am »
Nice, I like all those subplots you use, makes me curious without them being too interesting (aka derive attention of the main storyline). As for the main plotline with our Klingon, I STILL wonder what he wants. So kudos!
Snickers@DND: If there is one straight answer in that bent little head of yours, you'd better start spillin' it pretty damn quick, or I'm gonna take a large, blunt object, roughly the size of Kallae AND his hat and shove it lengthwise up a crevice of your being so seldomly cleaned that even the denizens of the nine hells would not touch it with a 10-feet rusty pole

Offline Scottish Andy

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Re: Cleopatra #2
« Reply #30 on: August 09, 2012, 03:18:31 pm »
Oh goodie, it continues! :)

Love the tip of the hat to Star Wars.

A good piece to segue from the Death of the Deathclaws to the Pursuit of the Klingons. Looking forward to more.
Come visit me at:  www.Starbase23.net

The Senior Service rocks! Rule, Britannia!

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

2288

Offline Captain Sharp

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Re: Cleopatra #2
« Reply #31 on: August 10, 2012, 07:45:20 pm »
A lot of tips, conscious and un, to various movies/series.

Aliens.

Fall Out 3.

Battlestar Galactica.

Star Wars.

Various Vietnam movies.

Roger Corman movies (no bug rape, tho).

--guv
"Jayne?"

"Yeah?"

"You wanna tell me why there's a statue of you here lookin' like I owe him something?"

"Wishin' I could, Captain. "

Offline Lieutenant_Q

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Re: Cleopatra #2
« Reply #32 on: August 10, 2012, 11:31:48 pm »
The Cleo vs a D-5... should be interesting.  Time to see how good Captain Sharp is.

I don't find anything wrong with Rell blasting his Exec with a disruptor.  Turak challenged him, he may not have said it in those words, but he challenged him nonetheless.   Rell couldn't let that challenge stand and still be in command next month.

And the magazine continues it's rounds... only now in the senior officer ranks...  I sense either Captain Sharp or Commander Ellyson personally finding out about it very very soon.  :)
"Your mighty GDI forces have been emasculated, and you yourself are a killer of children.  Now of course it's not true.  But the world only believes what the media tells them to believe.  And I tell the media what to believe, its really quite simple." - Kane (Joe Kucan) Command & Conquer Tiberium Dawn (1995)

Offline Captain Sharp

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Re: Cleopatra #2
« Reply #33 on: August 22, 2012, 08:41:39 pm »
This Chapter's a bit longer...

Chapter Seven





The milky glaze that had been growing on the fore viewer now dominated the entire square viewscreen. The star streaks of warp travel terminated, depositing the USS Cleopatra back into real space next to the Tellurian Rift. She floated there, silent and still, as her crew mustered to battlestations to the tune of an electronic klaxon.

“Weapons hot and ready, Captain!”

“Shields up, sir!”

“Engineering reports systems stabilizing. Full power available to defensive systems.”

Captain Sharp glanced to the tactical screen. The last transmission from the recon drone had shown Rell’s ship nearing the intercept zone. The D-5 had slowed to a leisurely warp two as the ship took up its patrol zone again. In another minute, the drone would update the scout’s position and he would make his final adjustments to his plan.
 
“Report coil temperatures.” He projected to the portside stations.

“Temperatures dropping to 1,200 Celsius. Primary and reserve coolant has been directed to the nacelles. Temperatures will return to nominal in seven minutes.”

Would they have seven minutes?

“Drone signal incoming, Captain.” Came from Ensign Lania.

The tactical map updated. The D-5 had moved even closer to the rift’s perimeter. Were they avoiding a navigational hazard or had they begun to pick up the probe’s sensor emissions? Surely they hadn’t detected its directional comm signal…

The Klingon ship would be passing in three minutes.

“Mister Ford, take us to maximum warp. Mister Davenport, your course is 357 mark 010. Watch your deflector readings for debris.”

Again the Cleo shot into warp. The haze before them enveloped the viewer, blotted out even the energetic field effect of warped space. Mister Ford began calling out their increasing velocity, ending when the ship edged back up to warp 5.1. That was all the old ship could bear to give them.

“Stand by to acquire target. We’re only going to be in weapons range for three seconds.”

His officers nodded, eyes on their monitors and control boards. The engines continued to howl. Speed dipped to below 5.1, then returned fully. The deck took on an unstable tremor.

“Estimate one minute to target!” Commander Ellyson reported.

Sharp tapped a predesignated intercom control.

“Stand by.”

“Standing by, sir.”

The ship shuddered. The Rift was affecting the Cleo’s warp field. The cloud before them was beginning to lighten, returning to the dark of space. Soon, the enemy would be picking up their warp signature as they emerged from the Rift.

He tapped the intercom panel again.

“Stand by to energize!”





“Detecting a subspace signal to starboard, Commander.”

Commander Rell descended from his chair and stood beside his comm officer. The soldier pointed out a weak, intermittent energy pattern on his board.

“A communication?”

“Likely. Semi-directional, perhaps.”

“Starfleet?”

The officer began to analyze the signal frequency against known enemy bandwidths. “Not a standard carrier band, sir. Civilian perhaps.”

Rell looked to the area map atop the comm station and adjusted its zoom. The transmission source was close to the edge of the gas cloud. To transmit into the cloud meant a receiver within or beyond that cloud. Suspicion took root in the cagey commander.

“Tactics Officer!”

“Sir!”

“Relay the last known position of Sharp’s vessel.”

A blinking yellow dot appeared at the far end of the cloud, on the other side. It had left the Earth colony and was heading back into the sector core.

“Now estimate his course.”

A pulsing green line shown out before the Federation cruiser.

Sharp had been headed toward his patrol zone, but was skating closer to the cloud than previously. He could have been heading this way…

The Earth captain was planning something.

“Science Officer! Scan for the source of that transmission!”

“Yes, Commander!”

Rell whirled for his command seat. His battle instincts were up. Now was not the time to act. He’d have plenty of time to get his shields up before any attack could materialize from within the cloud, and raising them now would only foil Sharp’s plan, force him into another direction.

He looked to the spot where his First Officer had died yesterday.

Looks like you should have been more patient, Turak.”

“Commander! Recording subspace surge within our ship!”

Rell snapped his head toward the science officer before sitting.

“Source!”

“Unknown!”

“Run an internal scan! Check all ship systems! Call Battle Alert!”

The ship’s klaxon began to bellow out its monotone. All non-essential systems powered themselves down to channel power to the combat systems. The shields came up as weapons charged.

“Sir!” Shouted the ship’s Gunnery Officer. “Ship approaching!”

Too many things had drawn his attention in too many directions in too short a span of time. Rell could only hold on as his peripheral vision saw the blue torpedoes zip in and nail his forward screens. The ship staggered and reeled under the force as the missiles punished its shields. Damage alarms cried out in anger.

“We’re dropping out of warp!”

Rell clambered into his chair as gravity righted itself on the bridge. He could see his adversary; that saucer ship with the red-tipped nacelles slung beneath it and the blue deflector array atop; snap out of warp space and into reality. Its weapon ports glowed angrily.

“Thought to catch me unawares, Captain Sharp? You are guileful.” To his men he said: “Acquire target! Close in and fire from beneath his saucer!”





Again in combat armor, Lieutenant Mike Fujiwara hunkered low in the darkened, spacious corridor and fanned his rifle before him. His team of four kept their lights off. No one had reported their safe arrival. For now, stealth was paramount.

They were deep within the interior of the Klingon battlecruiser, beamed there while still marginally at warp speed and while just coming out of the Rift. Mike could not have been less comfortable with the situation.

A quick scan from his tricorder picked up the energy emissions he was after. He dropped the scanner to dangle on its lanyard and gave the hand signal to move up. His team leap-frogged from corner to corner. They would not go undiscovered long, and had to make distance quickly. Luckily, they were on the right deck.

This was a non-critical area of the ship. With every Klingon soldier at his battle station, no one moved about in the halls. So long as they didn’t encounter an odd guard post or get noticed on internal cameras, they should make it to their destination without witnesses. Mike figured their chances of that as 50/50.

Another 90 degree turn. Fujiwara grabbed up his scanner and probed the way. The compartment they were after lay ahead. Two guards stood in their path. He’d really expected more. He conveyed their number to his team. One readied the electronic infiltration device they would soon need. The other two unbelted two grenades apiece.





The Klingon’s return fire was fierce. Their initial barrage of photons had done little more than destabilize the D-5’s warp field. Dropping out of warp in front of them had made the Cleopatra look like she was spoiling for a fight.

Thus far, the plan was solid.

“Shields holding at 80%!” Davenport called out. “They’re coming in low!”

“She’s faster than us, but we’re more maneuverable,” Ford added, fighting the helm as his phasers lashed out on auto-fire. “I can keep him from getting under our torpedoes.”

Sharp eyed the trade of crimson and blue Starfleet weapons for the blue and red of Klingon. His ship shuddered and pitched with each hit. That D-5 packed some serious cannon. How long could his shields withstand the strain?
Commander Ellyson looked back to the captain from her readouts.

“Captain! Rell’s shields are holding at 90%. Our phasers aren’t going to bring them down at the standard setting!”

As the battlecruiser approached, still trying to bank and turn beneath the Cleo’s saucer, Davenport unleashed his third volley of photon torpedoes. The weapons, combined with Ford’s phasers, punched the enemy craft in the jaw, splashing across powerful force fields.

“Our phasers can operate at twice that output.” He called back to the XO.

“But can the power system sustain it?”

“It’ll have to.” He hit the waiting comm panel. “Engineering!”

“Bornet!”

“Increase charge rate to the phasers, we’re increasing to full power.”

“Alright, Captain. Recharge might be spotty, but you’ll get everything we have!”

“Mister Ford, set phasers to full!”

The ship’s new main phasers were designed for the far newer Constitution-Class starships. At half power, they were still 20% more powerful than the Cleo’s original weaponry. Ford smiled with glee unknown till now as he flipped a series of toggles.
“Full power, aye!”
The next barrage of phaser fire was blinding to behold against the spinning stars and the dull green hull of the Klingon ship.





Rell was hurled out of his chair as the strike slammed into his ship like a cage fighter’s spin-kick to the face. He tumbled down the raised dais to the main deck and glared back to the enemy ship. It had grown new fangs…

“Fore shields down to half!” Called one of his men.

“Reinforce power! Helm, get us under that ship!”

“I cannot, Commander. They turn too quickly!”

Quick on the heels of the last salvo, another began to rain home, and this one did not relent. The ship was battered and hammered.

“Turn us to starboard! Maximum thrusters!”
The D-5 turned, veering away from the surprising armament of the aged enemy ship. The move sent many of the incoming shots wide, but they soon began to trace the Klingons’ path. But now they hit fresher shields.
Rell retook his seat.

“Reroute auxiliary power from engines to forward shields. Gunnery, when I bear on him again, target that ship’s port nacelle. All weapons, concentrated fire!”

“Yes, Commander!”

“Commander! We have intruders near the computer core!”





Both Fujiwara’s subordinates stepped out and tossed their grenades as one. The Klingon sentries reacted quickly, ducking into shooting positions when they saw the humans, then leaping into the corners at either edge of the corridor when they recognized the grenades.

The explosives went off, their thud slapping Mike in the heart. He bolted around the corner. Both Klingons were mangled, the formerly red hallway panels aflame about them. Fujiwara put a shot into the Klingon closest to him to ensure his cooperation and knelt by the completely intact hatch the aliens had just given their lives for.

“Hatch is sealed. Charges!”

The charges were set by the lieutenant’s number two. She drew the zip-pin and the team withdrew 30 feet. The blast was not as terrible as the grenades had been, but no less effective. The hatch caved in nicely.

“Claymours!”

Mike’s number two knelt and deposited her mines at the mouth of the red-marked security corridor leading to the computer chamber. She lined the entire length of the hallway with mines, retreating with her men as she went.
Mike and another man moved into the smoke filled computer room swift as wind. They shot down the technicians operating the controls there, one stun blast each. It would not due for them to wreck the memory banks with too powerful a shot. Another shot to each man proved necessary, however. Klingons were robust.

Fujiwara’s entire team hunkered within the tiny chamber as Gunnery Officer Lo’sii laid out her infiltrator gear and began stabbing its hard connections into several open device ports. The tiny keyboard and screen lit up before the Tenatran noncom and she set to work.

Mike knew better than to ask how long it would take her to penetrate the computer’s security. He merely knelt in behind his other two men and readied to repel enemy soldiers.

“Deploying smoke!”

The man on Mike’s left slid a hockey puck shaped dispenser down the way in front of them. It popped, filling the confined space before them with a localized aerosol meant to foil the eye and infrared scan. Everything that could be done to prepare had just been done.





“They’re targeting our nacelles!” Susan shouted from the science station. Several of her arrays were reduced to static from the interference of repeated weapon hits and enemy jamming. She was working like mad to counter the Klingons’ electronic measures, but the Cleo’s best systems were 20 years out of date.

Another severe hit nearly rocked her out of her chair.

“Port nacelle shields are failing!”

Sharp barely stirred in the conn. His eyes were the only animate part of his being. “Redirect starboard shield power to the port nacelle! We can’t lose warp drive!”

Another brace of torpedoes slammed into the ship, rippling down her flanks and the Cleo’s beleaguered warp engine. The bridge lighting failed, replaced by emergencies. His order had been too late.

“Warp drive offline!”

Sharp shot his eyes to Ellyson.

“How bad?” He barked.

Commander Ellyson turned her console over to her relief and lunged across the bridge. She clung to the railing till she reached the engineering station and began toggling through indicators. What she read puzzled her.

“No direct hull damage to the nacelle, Captain! There’s not enough damage to knock out the drive!”

The tech manning the controls pointed to his main panel.

“Warp drive is down, though, sir! There’s no plasma reaching the engines!”

Captain Sharp savagely attacked his intercom again.

“Engineering! Mister Bornet report!”

“Here, Captain! I’m on it!”

“What’s going on down there?”

“I can’t find a reason for warp failure… I’m looking!”





Lieutenant Bornet cast a wary glance off at the fire across his engine bay, which was being fought by three of his best damage control specs. Turbine gear oil could be messy… He plied his wide eyes to the console again, looking for a fault or indicator.

“I have no pressure to the coolant mains!” He reported through the open communicator in his hairy hand. He traded this console for the next one ten feet away.

“It’s got to be a safety valve, but the valve indicators tell me they’re all open and operational!”

“Engineer, we’ve got to have warp speed to make this plan work! Get it back online!”

“Aye, aye, Captain, sir!!” The Tellarite slapped the comm shut and took off at a run to his damage control team leaders.

“Get moving! Visually check every single damn cutoff valve in this plant! Reset them manually, and make sure they work!”

“Aye, aye, sir!”

Jave’s men and women dispersed. There were 167 coolant main valves within this engine room that could affect the warp drive in this way. A faulty monitor on any one or more of them could have caused this. He didn’t want to die because of a faulty bit of wire.





Captain Sharp clambered forth and took hold of the helm console’s side so he could look closely at Mister Ford.

“Helmsman, we need a gap in those shields.”

“I know, sir. He keeps turning his stronger shields toward us after he makes a run. He’s faster than us and won’t come into point blank range.”

Ford’s phasers were even then chattering away, punctuated by the navigator’s photon volleys. A stray explosion tore away a sensor antenna from the Klingon ship’s dorsal. But still her shields would not give way for more than an instant.

“You’ve got to get us closer, Lieutenant. We can’t beam our team out unless their shields are down.”

Ford squinted, concentrating on the enemy.

“I might have a plan, sir.”

“Do it.”

Ford reached up and pulled the impulse drive throttle back to half power. Combined with the maneuver he was still implementing, the Cleo’s speed fell off drastically. He reversed his turn then, banking suddenly away from the enemy ship.

“This is your plan?”

“Makes us look hurt, sir. When the away team’s ready, I’ll be ready.”

Sharp nodded.

“Reroute impulse power to shields!” He called, returning to the conn. “Begin evasive Delta Five!”





“They lose power, Commander!”

Rell peered closely at the now running enemy starship. The humans had almost lost all their shields, and now they had lost half their speed. The blackened vessel was looking like a target recovered from a long day down-range.

“Plot strafing patterns to run flank to flank from her stern quarters! That class of ship has no aft torpedo launcher and only two aft phasers.”

As the saucer shaped craft ran away, injured, his own nimble ship turned and gained distance, then swooped in, firing hard into the center of the main hull. The Earthers’ maneuvers were slower, totally defensive. Their weapons fire was limited to sporadic bursts from the rear guns. The battle would not be long now.

“Stand by boarding parties!”





Lieutenant Fujiwara ducked low and withdrew into cover as the first shot zipped out from the smoke-filled hall. One of his men returned fire, sparking a general trade of shots back and forth. The enemy was using stun energy, wary of damaging their computer core. The advantage remained with his team so long as the Klingons didn’t get close enough to lob a stun grenade through the open door.

Mike learned out and fired off a series of rapid shots toward likely targets. More azure beams responded, slapping the bulkhead before him. The sound of heavy boots made him and his men pull back quickly.

The Claymour was far more frightening in an enclosed space. Ball bearings ricocheted about fiercely, even rebounding back into the computer bay.

Mike glanced back to Lo’sii. The Tenatran had worked her way through several firewalls and was falsifying pass codes to enter the encrypted data core. She had minutes left. How many, he still didn’t know.

An angry shout and screams of a wounded man came from the smoke. Heated fire poured forth, battering the secondary core control station with stun energy. Leaning insanely low, he and his men returned fire, rifles set to lethal effect. Specialist Stanley hurled a grenade down the way.

None of the intruders had yet noticed the waft of smoke coming from the bulkhead beneath the main computer bank interface. Gunnery Officer Lo’sii continued to work, completely unawares.

“I’m past their security. Got complete control!”

“Good!” Mike shouted back. “Finish up!”

“Downloading all transporter and communications records for the past month—“

Lo’sii’s shout jerked Mike about where he was hunkering. Two arms had protruded from beneath the console she stood at and had yanked her down from her feet. A disruptor stabbed forth as she fought to bring her rifle up. She’d landed on the weapon, and was defenseless to prevent her demise. The blue blast took the top of her head off, helmet and all.

Fujiwara knew what was coming next. He and his men whirled and opened fire on the open hatch the Klingons had diligently cut through from a maintenance tunnel beyond. They opened fire on the tiny opening even as the disruptor’s owner reared back to throw his grenade. The deluge of phaser blasts knocked the Klingon’s upper torso into shreds and the grenade went off in his limp hand.

The lieutenant was up immediately, mad as hell. He stepped over his dead crewmate, comm in hand as he dropped his rifle for the blackened infiltrator on the console desktop.

“Cleopatra! Mission accomplished! Beam us out of here!”





“Now Mister Ford!”

Lieutenant Chevis Ford jammed the throttle forth with meaning and keyed in the turn he’d been planning for some minutes now. The enemy was following, strafing from port to starboard behind them. The D-5 was coming about on another starboard run.

The Cleopatra, suddenly accelerating to full impulse power, lurched out of her reverie and leapt upon the unprepared warship. She fired everything she had.





“Coming to port again,” the helm was calling out. “Increasing to full speed.”

Rell was almost bored with the repetition.

“The enemy is closing!”

He blinked.

“What?!”

The D-5 was hit, this time from close range. The little old cruiser had cleared the distance between them within seconds, and was shown bearing in on the main viewscreen. It’s weapons blazed, several impacting the shields protecting the bridge. The ship lolled and thundered.

“Forward shields down!”






“Energize!”

Commander Ellyson watched the transporter indicators on her auxiliary panel. “Transport complete! We’ve got them!”

“Restore shields! Helm, turn us back to the Rift!”

Ford did so reluctantly. The enemy was taking their first real damage in this fight, and the feeling was glorious. But even then, the Klingons were cannibalizing shield coverage to protect the injured bow. He yanked the Cleo away and accelerated the ship away from her adversaries.

“Reroute all remaining power to the aft shields.” Sharp was commanding. He again found the intercom controls.

“Engineering, we need warp speed!”

The first of the next wave of weapon strikes found the Cleopatra’s rear end.





“All coolant main valves operational, Lieutenant!”

Jave glared at the fearful confusion on the DC chief’s face.

“We can’t find any faults!”

“Did you check every one?”

“Yes, sir! We even looked in the manual!”

Bornet growled. Manuals be damned! The manual on this ship was little more than toilet paper. His mind flashed through the thousands of possible components that could cause warp drive failure. He kept coming up with only one thing that caused a pressure failure without line damage…

Ensign Mianar flipped herself up on the railing beside the snarling engineer. The Mienieni’s little cilia were pointing up and aft.

“Ooomii-na-nooo, la-noorinooo!”

“sh*t! Why didn’t you remind me of that sooner!”

Jave took off at a run. He cleared two runs of stairs and barreled past his damage control team. He was headed for the section behind the EPS grid, at the far end of engineering.

Two years before, he’d found a bit of un-chronicled jury-rigging within the coolant system. Such an innocuous thing, a single valve in the midst of the gas pressure monitor system leading to the EPS array. That same valve was part of the grid of piping that regulated the pressure monitor for the coolant plant. If that stupid valve had flipped closed, the sudden lack of gas pressure would have disabled the entire coolant distribution system.

And that damn valve didn’t have a single monitoring relay on it!

Jave reached the pipe segment, saw the greasy valve. It was just a tiny thing, just four inches wide with a seven-inch long lever. The trigger showed it to be shut. He tried to work the valve handle. It didn’t budge.

“Spanner!”

His men looked up at him, confused. They couldn’t even hear him from so far below him. He pantomimed working a spanner.

“Throw me a f*cking wrench!”

Motion from portside caught his eye as Ensign Mianar flowed down the catwalk on her mop of tendrils. Above her head was held a dirty, colorless pipe wrench. He snatched it up from her.

“You’re getting a raise!”

Turning, he drew down the wrench with all his might.





Rell watched with growing anticipation as the Federation starship limped ahead, running from him. They’d turned tail, intent on escaping into the gas cloud with their reclaimed boarding crew.

Obviously, their warp capability was impaired. Otherwise, this would have turned into a faster than light chase, where his own ship could outrun Sharp’s by four warp factors.

Sharp had penetrated Rell’s shields, reclaimed his boarding party and whatever they’d been after in the computer core. For what good it would do them. It would take them a week to decode it, and in a few minutes, Rell’s men would be boarding that ship to take it back from them anyway.

Blue disruptor bolts flew down on the enemy cruiser, pummeling away patiently at its shields. Do what they may, the humans would not be able to keep them up much longer. Rell knew he could destroy them. But he wanted to know how they’d beamed aboard his ship from a ship moving at warp speed. Such knowledge would be most advantageous.

“Enemy shields have failed, Commander.”

“Prepare tractor beams—“

The human ship leapt away.

Amazed, dumbfounded, Rell sat looking at his viewer and the gray white cloud the humans had just blasted away toward. He kept his mind working.

“I have their course, sir. Ready to overtake.”

Rell made a dark face, sure of what he’d find on the other side of that cloud.

“I think not, helmsman. When we emerged on the other side of that anomaly, we would find the USS Constantinople bearing in on us to reinforce the humans. This Sharp does not act without a plan.”

Rell stood up, his pride tarnished.

“Return us to our patrol zone. I will inspect the computer core and make my report to General Tor.”


(And yes...the misspelling of Claymore is still intentional.)

--guv
« Last Edit: August 23, 2012, 01:47:11 pm by Captain Sharp »
"Jayne?"

"Yeah?"

"You wanna tell me why there's a statue of you here lookin' like I owe him something?"

"Wishin' I could, Captain. "

Offline Grim Reaper

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Re: Cleopatra #2
« Reply #34 on: August 23, 2012, 01:21:48 am »
I read it in one go, I loved the action. Still feels a bit odd that a Star Trek captain would take an action with so many casualties, but a great plan nonetheless. And quite believable Klingon too, not just a pushover or dumb dude, but really a worthy adversary. BTW, I wanted to see how a Tenatran looks, but I can't find on Memory Alpha, you got a link for a species page?
Snickers@DND: If there is one straight answer in that bent little head of yours, you'd better start spillin' it pretty damn quick, or I'm gonna take a large, blunt object, roughly the size of Kallae AND his hat and shove it lengthwise up a crevice of your being so seldomly cleaned that even the denizens of the nine hells would not touch it with a 10-feet rusty pole

Offline Scottish Andy

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Re: Cleopatra #2
« Reply #35 on: August 23, 2012, 01:02:00 pm »
Cool action and I second Grim's comment on Rell. It is always a more satisfying and thus enjoyable story when both sides are smart.
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Offline Captain Sharp

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Re: Cleopatra #2
« Reply #36 on: August 23, 2012, 01:44:11 pm »
BTW, I wanted to see how a Tenatran looks, but I can't find on Memory Alpha, you got a link for a species page?

Nope, made em up. Remember, this was originally an Abramsverse story. That's why the Cleo has 'turbines' (Decided to leave in the tubine reference to imply the ships age even more. And yes, I realize the NX didn't have turbines...).

And thank ya both, sirs. I hate dumb badguys worse than I hate dumb good guys.

And Sharp's plan IS a bit more blood-thirsty than the typical Fed's MO, but again I remind that this was an Abramsverse story. As far as casualties, though, only one person has died on the Fed side, and Sharp is convinced that the Klinks are responsible for far more deaths back on Roanal Colony. Considering what he believes the stakes are, I'd say the USA has launched full-scale invasions for less.

There's a little more to come. I'm hoping this story comes off as entertaining. I was very uncertain, originally. Its almost two stories in one, and nothing like what I'd originally planned upon writing it. (Smart heroes do not a good horror story make...)

--guv
"Jayne?"

"Yeah?"

"You wanna tell me why there's a statue of you here lookin' like I owe him something?"

"Wishin' I could, Captain. "

Offline Commander La'ra

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Re: Cleopatra #2
« Reply #37 on: August 24, 2012, 01:57:38 am »
(Smart heroes do not a good horror story make...)

As you've told me so many, many times.;)
"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 Captain Sharp

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Re: Cleopatra #2
« Reply #38 on: August 29, 2012, 04:15:36 pm »
Not much left of this one. HEre's the last of it. Would appreciate reviews if possible. Comments if not.


Chapter Eight




Captain’s Log, Supplemental Entry.

It seems we were able to evade pursuit far more easily than I’d anticipated. Either Commander Rell was not as driven to follow as one might expect of Klingons or his ship suffered somewhat more damage than our sensors estimated. We have exited the Tellurian Rift and have had no contact with the Klingons in four hours.
We have set course for a rendezvous with Starship Constantinople to render to them our st—captured Klingon computer files. Captain Stovall’s ship has far more modern decrypt facilities at its disposal. After the rendezvous, we will return to Roanal Colony to check on the status of safekeeping operations there.

Repairs continue underway at a steady pace.




Commander Ellyson sat comfortably across from her CO as the latter reclined in his beaten, non-regulation office chair. The old chair squeaked and protested metallically. Sharp only seemed to relax when here in the privacy of his cabin. She wondered if he turned the lights down when she left.

“Can we consider our mission successful?” She asked of him.

“Command seems to think so. Minton mentioned knowing I would commit to immediate action. He just didn’t know what kind.”

“Right Captain for the right job.”

“Maybe. I just hope the intel on that hard drive was worth the three deaths suffered and the 23 injured.”

Sharp never opened his eyes as he spoke. Burdens of command, dealing with the deaths of those under your orders. They grated on him.

“Will Captain Stovall let us know what’s on those files?”

“If he can. He can be crafty that way.”

“And then we go on back to Roanal?”

“If nothing else, we’ll pick up our security force, maybe grant some shoreleave.”

“Oddly enough, Mister Ford was asking about whether he could request shoreleave there during our visit.”

A slight smile crinkled at the corner of his wide mouth.

“Must have enjoyed sleeping under a real sky.”

“Oh, must have!”

“I think we’ll maintain orbit till repairs are complete. Be sure to schedule the repair crews some planet time as well.”

“Aye, sir.”

Sharp straightened and sat forward in his chair. His right hand trailed off the table to the low cabinet beside.
 
“Care for a mood lightener, Number One?”

Susan smiled.

“Only if it’s above 30 proof.”

Sharp smiled slightly, producing a bottle of bona fide Kentucky bourbon.

“I think this’ll do.” He poured them two short glasses. “Any further business?”

“Just an odd request from the Vulcan Medical Association. They want the most recent medical files on Ensign Lania.”

Sharp paused before sipping the dark liquid in his snifter.

“Nothing too odd about that, I suppose.”

“But why not pass the request through the ensign herself? It was passed to us as an order from Starfleet.”

“Whatever the purpose, Commander, we can rest assured there’s a logical reason. Send the records. We send copies to Starfleet every month anyway.”

Susan let herself mold into the plastic chair beneath her, holding her glass. The stiff whiskey practically scalded the back of her throat. She considered the Vulcan commission’s request. The captain was correct. No big deal. She thought back on the colony world they’d rescued from the Deathclaws. Completing that task hadn’t felt like much of a victory when she had all but known that the culprits had gotten off Scot-free. Now that they’d perhaps brought the Klingons to task for their actions, gotten some vengeance for it and perhaps claimed from them the proof of their deeds and the reasons behind them…she no longer felt so rotten.
Sharp again leaned his old chair back and closed his eyes. He looked tired. He had good reason to be, she supposed. Perhaps one day, she would sit where he’d sat, and be able to compare notes.

Taking another drink of bourbon, she decided she’d like to wait a bit for that day.





Ensign Davenport slowed up as Ford popped out of his cabin’s hatch. He had to stop entirely and press up against the bulkhead a second later as the communications officer went jogging past. Both men watched the shapely posterior recede around the corner. Lania’s running attire covered little, clung tightly, and was soaked with perspiration.

“Makes a man wanna take up joggin’.” Ford commented.

“Um-hmm.” Ron agreed.

“What’s that in your hand there, Navigator?”

Davenport smiled and held up the folded up magazine.

“Just some selective reading. Thought you might appreciate such a treasure.”

“Oh?”

“Um-hmm.”

Ford glanced aft to where three red shirts bent, picking through wiring to reassemble the shattered communication hub before them. Ron gave them a look as well, spotting the exact men he’d claimed the booklet from.

“Maybe we’ll take a private look.” Ford said quietly.

They stepped into Ford’s shared cabin. The helmsman turned on the desk light between the two unadorned bunks that dominated the small room. He settled into his chair gently and took the worn magazine.

“Page 37 is where you’ll find her.”

Ford flipped through the pages as Ron looked on. He felt oddly unsettled looking into this with a fellow officer. As though he was being watched. Likely because it contained nude pictures of a superior officer. Chevy’s head bobbed with surprise when he found the right pictorial.

“Whoa! You ain’t a-sh*ttin!”

“Was surprised myself.”

“Damn! Perky! C cups?”

“Think so.”

“Ominooo?”

Ron nearly jumped out of his skin with the sound emitting right beside his elbow. He bumped into Ford’s rack, almost falling over, looking for the source of the sound.

On the other bunk stood a three foot yellow mop with eyes stared at him with open interest, its head cocked aside in wonder.

“What the hell is that!”

“Omina!”

Ford looked over at his alien bunkmate. To Ron’s aggravation, he didn’t look a bit surprised to find the room occupied.

“That’s my roomy, Ensign Mianar. Ensign Mianar, Ron Davenport, ship’s Navigator.”

Ron held up a hand in an odd wave.

Hi.”

“Oo-ni!”

“Uhm… Is that a…”

Ford glanced over at his roommate.

“Mia! Put on some clothes, we have a guest!”

“Oomanooo-nanooo!”

The mop turned and shambled across its bed. There lay a little red sash with Starfleet signage on it. It grabbed up the sash with its frilly cilia and donned the little uniform.

“Mai is a Mienieni. She ain’t completely used to human customs… and loves scarin’ the hell out of people. Sorry, Ron. Had to give her the chance.”

“She did pretty damn good! I thought she was your roommate’s wig or somethin’!”

Mianar shuffled back to the head of her bed and craned to look over Ford’s shoulder. Ford obligingly scooted the booklet closer to her vantage.

“Oma-noora?”

“Yep, that’s the XO. And yep, she’s nekkid.”

“Oma-na?”

“I figure some photographer came along and threw her a pitch that made it sound like a good idea. Caused her more grief than it was worth, from what I hear.”

“On-wa-na?”

“No, I don’t know why they still call them photographers.”

Ron shook his head.

“Why is it she makes no sense what so ever, but I can perfectly understand everything she’s saying?”

“HellifIknow.”

“Oh.”

“Omi-noo.”

“Ah. Okay, I guess that makes sense.”

Ford flipped the page to the next set of pictures.


End
"Jayne?"

"Yeah?"

"You wanna tell me why there's a statue of you here lookin' like I owe him something?"

"Wishin' I could, Captain. "

Offline Scottish Andy

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Re: Cleopatra #2
« Reply #39 on: August 30, 2012, 10:52:35 am »
I like the epilogue here. A few loose ends tidied up, some more left to dangle for possible future stories, and explanations for the rest. A very competent wrap up.

I especially liked the explanation-in-dialogue of the final scene; "hanging a lantern on it" is a great story concept which I need to make more use of it myself, and have the characters reveal the stuff themselves rather than using extended exposition or boring narrative to explain it. I believe my stories will improve once I start using this.
Come visit me at:  www.Starbase23.net

The Senior Service rocks! Rule, Britannia!

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

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Offline Captain Sharp

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Re: Cleopatra #2
« Reply #40 on: August 30, 2012, 01:11:41 pm »
I call it 'hanging a lampshade on it', but stole the term from some of the dvd extras on Stargate SG-1.

glad u enjoyed, sir

--guv
"Jayne?"

"Yeah?"

"You wanna tell me why there's a statue of you here lookin' like I owe him something?"

"Wishin' I could, Captain. "

Offline Grim Reaper

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Re: Cleopatra #2
« Reply #41 on: August 31, 2012, 02:32:24 am »
I enjoyed it as well, makes me think of the wrap ups we would get in the series. Though my memory is rather fuzzy, I can't recall of the warm memories are valid... Ow well, this wrap up was fun guv, so well done!
Snickers@DND: If there is one straight answer in that bent little head of yours, you'd better start spillin' it pretty damn quick, or I'm gonna take a large, blunt object, roughly the size of Kallae AND his hat and shove it lengthwise up a crevice of your being so seldomly cleaned that even the denizens of the nine hells would not touch it with a 10-feet rusty pole

Offline Captain Sharp

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Re: Cleopatra #2
« Reply #42 on: August 31, 2012, 07:57:33 pm »
Awesome! #3 coming soon.

--me
"Jayne?"

"Yeah?"

"You wanna tell me why there's a statue of you here lookin' like I owe him something?"

"Wishin' I could, Captain. "