Star Trek Fan-fic

[Shatnerpossum]

Columns of armed and armored Cardassian troops moved reluctantly and without a sense of purpose along a dusty road. The occasional vehicle would move along as well, larger troop carriers rolling by, the smaller command vehicles hovering by. Overhead various craft circled to provide cover while others carried away heavier equipment too valuable to leave behind. Twilight was coming on, and the lights in nearby villages were glowing. Raucous laughter rang out from those Bajoran dogs, cheering in their hovels as his troops trudged along to their waiting ships. His eyes stared hollowly at a passing Gul in his command vehicle. Hollow eyes stared back.

“Sir?” something pulled at the edge of Bekam’s memory. With a rush, he reoriented himself. This was not Bajor, or even Terek Nor. This was his ship. He thought back. Why did I have a ship? There had been an attack on the troop ship… he’d taken command. The attackers had been… destroyed, and he’d been rewarded with a promotion. And with a ship. These flashbacks were getting worse, sometimes he couldn’t tell the difference between reality and memory anymore. But pure force of will would keep him to the task at hand.

He turned to the helmsman. “We have come out of warp, what heading sir?” Gul Bekam recited the numbers he’d memorized, they led to a tiny Class M moon of a gas giant. Within ten minutes they’d closed the distance and entered standard orbit. He shot a glance at his first officer, “Kemar, man the bridge.”

The Cardassian materialized in section of thick jungle. Immediately his predator’s instincts kicked in. Each sound became amplified, the smells wafted through the air. Once again Gul Bekam felt alive. He had a sense of purpose. And at the moment, that sense was deadly. But there was more to hunting than instinct and action, there was planning. He’d counted on his “business” partner to be deceitful, and he had factored that in by beaming down fifteen minutes early.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Precariously, Alec MacDuff climbed up the final leg of what had been a six mile hike. The terrain had shifted from moss and ferns to steep rocky hills. He had to using his arms, otherwise he’d slide down the hillside and have to start over again. He dug his toes into the loose soil and rocks to make sure he could take another step. Step after step, he kept trudging upward. He paused to wipe sweat from his face, and just as he felt like he couldn’t go further, he reached the top.

He took a few steps forward and sat on a rock, then looked down on the water, and felt a salt breeze stinging his cheeks. He stood on a precipice high above the ocean, with pine trees and rocks behind him. And before him was a calm sea that ran for miles. In the distance he could make out a few recreational sailors. It was miraculous. Nothing had changed in so many hundreds of years. The cliffs stood, passively watching as they always had. The trees swayed gently in the wind, gnarled after the years of storms, but standing strong. The waves beat upon the shore far below, flowing in and out. The shuttlecraft- Shuttlecraft? What the hell?
Sure enough, from the trees overhead a Starfleet shuttle whined overhead. It set down in a narrow space between trees and the hatch opened. “Commander MacDuff!” an insistent voice was yelling at him. That wasn’t really new, but it was unwelcome. “You were supposed to report to the transfer station two hours ago!” The woman yelling at him was about forty-three, short, and more than a little grating. MacDuff wasn’t quite sure how to respond, so he started with a tentative excuse.
“I’m sorry, I seem to have lost track of-“
The wave of a hand cut him off. “Don’t say you’re sorry, just stop wasting time!”

With that, she practically dragged him back to the shuttle. As the hatch closed with a hiss and eclipsed the view of his home of British Columbia, Commander Alec MacDuff muttered to himself. “So much for shore leave.”

What he didn’t know was that he wasn’t headed back to the USS Hood, the time had come for his own command.

[Spock]

Well done brother. Spock approves.

[Shatnerpossum]

Yes! Then logically I must be doing a good job.

More is on the way friends.

[Spock]

I actually really enjoyed reading it. :) I would be delighted to read more.

[Shatnerpossum]

Ensign Sykla X’dactya sat at a table in the main galleria of Starbase 67. She was dressed in civilian clothes of her own personal choice, which was rather unusual for the surroundings. Most people wore jumpsuits or purely functional garments that Sykla despised. Orion tended to have a different sense of style than most Federation races. Her own choices were equally functional, but had more character. Utility pants, a black shirt inscribed with a humorous Orion saying, heavy boots she’d picked up from a Tellarite trader a year ago, and a leather jacket she’d picked up through less-than-legal means, you can take the girl off Orion II but you can’t take Orion II out of the girl. Besides, a real leather jacket would probably have given some Federation bureaucrat a heart attack. But, on the whole, it was a style that blended in reasonably, though her emerald green skin didn’t.

One of the downsides to being an Orion female was that there would always be certain… interruptions. Clumsy advances by various species who’d gotten the impression that her species had one gender and one function. Ferengi were the worst, always pinching.

As she sipped along on her second drink, she had the “first catch of the day” as it were. One very tipsy human staggered out of a disreputable back area of shops, and decided to stink up the chair in front of her.
“Hey toots!” His breath reeked and his eyes were still glassy. “Wanna head back to ma place?”
Sykla glanced up briefly, and disdainfully looked back to the datapad she was reading. “Tempting, but no.”
The drunk was obviously put off, seems like he’d be used to rejection. But he wasn’t deterred. “Mebbe ya didn’t hear me…”
He started to reach across the table to touch her, but halfway through the clumsy motion Sykla swiftly and precisely raised her heavy boot and kicked over his chair. He fell backwards and spilled out onto the floor. He staggered to his feet with a vengeful look in his eyes.

“Oh, looks like you fell over there. I’d be more careful if I were you.” She grinned a little at that.

“I’ll teach you to be careful!” The drunk man picked up the chair and was holding it over him when a hand tapped his shoulder. He turned with surprise, dropping the chair.

“Excuse me sir, but you seem to be intoxicated. It would be logical for you to leave now.”

The drunk didn’t seem to take that advice, and instead started to swing a punch. Before he could finish, the newcomer applied the slightest pressure to the right spot on the neck. The drunk man immediately fell to the ground like a sack of potatoes. A few bystanders dragged him off to the seedy corner from which he came.

“Given the circumstances, may I join you?” Sykla gestured to the seat. The Vulcan righted the chair and sat in it.
“My name is Sabak.”
“Sykla. Good to meet you.”
The Orion took another sip of her drink and the Vulcan sat with a neutral expression on his face.
“Does this constitute a regular occurrence for you?”
“Probably about twice each time I’m at a Starbase.”
An eyebrow arched.
“I usually have to break their noses, thanks for saving me effort.”
The eyebrow arched again.
“Generally speaking violence is illogical. However in this case I concede that it may be necessary.”
Sykla nodded. “It is, and its a part of my work.”
Sabak tilted his head slightly. “May inquire what field you work in?”
“I’m a Security Officer in Starfleet.”
“Indeed. I see we have something in common, I am Lieutenant Sabak, an engineer.”

Sykla blinked once out of surprise, a common gesture among her species. While it wasn’t shocking to see a Vulcan in Starfleet, it was unusual to see one in engineering. They gravitated more toward science or even medicine. But then again, engineering was logical. And it wasn’t any more unusual than an Orion in Starfleet, most people seemed convinced she’d try to steal everything but the kitchen seat and waltz off with it. That thought provoked a little chuckle.

With typical dry, Vulcan curiosity Sabak tentatively asked “I am sorry, is something amusing?”
------------------------------------------

As the sounds of the jungle became more regular to his senses, Bekam was able to make out the subtle differences that marked the presence of his quarry. With a minimum of stalking he was able to spot his first catch of the day. The Ferengi stood obliviously with a disruptor rifle, eyes gazing toward the clearing. The fool wasn’t aware that danger could come from any direction. The Cardassian came up from behind and snapped the neck like a child breaking a twig. One down…

Careful attention to detail found two more guards, each of whom was easily dealt with in the same manner. Then after that it was easy. A little spot to spot beaming placed him directly at the meeting place at exactly the right time.

He stepped out of the patch he materialized in as if he were oblivious to any danger. Without even a glance to the flanks he headed straight for his contact.
“Hello Damon Moka.”

The perpetually-sneering Ferengi stared at the Gul with a discerning expression. Probably guessing how much latinum I brought.
“Yes, welcome Gul Bekam. I take it you brought the… payment?” He let the last word drag on as if savoring it.

“Of course Damon. I uphold my agreements.” He tossed a bag of latinum over. The Ferengi pawed through it eagerly.

“This is half of the agreed sum!” The Ferengi spoke with false surprise in his words.

As if he hadn’t known they’d agreed for two payments.
“You’ll get the rest when you fulfill your end of the bargain.”

Moka appeared to weigh the option. “How do I know you have the rest of it?” he asked warily.

The Cardassian held up another jingling bag, and Moka began to laugh.
“Oh, this is rich! You were foolish enough to bring the whole sum with you!” He continued to cackle, pausing for breath and the chance to continue gloating. “Rule of Acquisition ten: Greed,” he paused for an emphasis, “is eternal! Now toss over that other bag and you can leave unscathed.”

Now it was Gul Bekam’s turn to smile. “You must take me for a fool. Do you think I’d walk into an obvious trap?”

Moka looked befuddled, but quickly called out an instruction. “Farek! Fire a shot past his head!”
Nothing happened.
“Farek you lazy oaf! Stop sleeping or I’ll cut your share of the profit!” Moka continued to curse while Bekam moved closer, and by the time the Damon tried to back up the Cardassian had him by the throat.

Bekam switched his grip and began to pull on the ear. That elicited a squeal of pain from the greedy Damon. “I am no fool Moka, now listen closely.” The Ferengi managed to nod eagerly. “You will complete your end of the transaction, and only then will you get your final payment.”

The Ferengi started to form a question, “But the Romulans, how will I-“ Another yank on the ear earned a louder squeal.

“You’ll get creative. And besides, Rule of Acquisition 16: A deal is a deal.” He released the squirming Damon. He stepped back to the arranged coordinates. “Remember Moka, you have two months.”

[comedianmasta]

Nice, now I think characters are comming out a little better. Again, I feel bad I don't fully understand your world. Keep writing, it's pretty good now.

[Shatnerpossum]

Alec MacDuff leaned back against the bulkhead of the transport shuttle and silently prayed for a hull breach. In space, no one can Ensign Zach Lebowicz talk about his soccer game, mother’s enthusiasm for knitting, bad jokes, and his relentless prattle about Tirelian Crystal formations.

Instead of saying any of this, MacDuff decided to pound the back of his head into the bulkhead of the shuttle in time with the rhythm of the warp core. It wasn’t so bad really, the pain almost distracted him from Lebowicz. But now Lieutenant Jacobs was humming some obnoxiously catchy tune. MacDuff started to hit his head in time with the beat. Damn this flight is too long.

As if addressing his unspoken complaint, the pilot turned around in his seat. “We’re dropping out of warp now, the shipyards is ahead.” And true to his words, the shuttle flickered out of warp and the “shipyards” came into view, if “shipyards” is the right term. The Starfleet Long Term Fleet Storage was more of a junkyard scattered around a massive dry dock. Ships probably dating back to Captain Kirk littered the facility. MacDuff wondered silently which hunk of junk he was doomed to command. He stared out at the scene with a bizarre mixture of curiosity and dread all the way into the main operations center.

When the shuttle had offloaded and the crew were heading off for drinks between flights, Commander MacDuff looked around for some sort of station personnel in the drab corridors of the landing level. In the absence of anyone obviously in charge, he decided to ask an Ensign in a greasy uniform who was holding a datapad. “Excuse me Ensign, I’m Commander MacDuff and I’m looking for my ship.” The Ensign looked around. “Sir, didn’t you come in on it?” MacDuff tried not to sigh. “No, I meant the ship I’m here to take command of, the USS Liberty . The Ensign took a glance at the pad, and scrolled down it. “Right, Liberty. Docking slip B on deck one.” MacDuff walked off without thanking him.

The Ensign looked back at the pad and up again. “You’re welcome… jerk.”

MacDuff kept walking through the dated corridors, rather disdainful of them in fact. Then he realized that whatever ship they’d assigned him probably looked equally bad. Or worse. He grimaced and kept moving, this time trying not to notice the style. As it happened, the main deck was a lot nicer and up-to-date. It also had a fine set of viewports. Before he had much chance to look around, he was intercepted by a balding man in a Captain’s uniform, who redirected him to a office. “Ah! You must be Commander MacDuff!” The rather pudgy officer grasped his hand warmly. “I’m Captain Brandy, welcome to Fleet Storage. We’ve been expecting you, but I’m afraid it will be another two days before you can leave the shipyards, in the meantime feel free to use our facilities…” Brandy kept helpfully gushing a flow of trivial information.

“Excuse me, Captain. I haven’t been able to receive information on my ship, I can’t even find records of a USS Liberty in the fleet.”

Brandy looked puzzled for a second, and then something clicked. “Ah! You didn’t go back far enough.” He dug around on his desk and finally produced the right datapad. “Here you go, USS Liberty. Refitted and modernized Constitution Class. Laid down in 2250, refitted in-“

MacDuff’s jaw dropped. “Constitution? 2250? You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I am. We’ve been refitting older ships for the past year, it’s a real cost saver.”
“But a Constitution class? As in a ‘Captain Kirk’ Constitution class?”

Brandy kept the same jovial expression on his face. “Yes. But its all right, she was refitted in 2285, and decommissioned in 2302. And besides, we’re fixing her up nicely.” He beamed with pride in his work, MacDuff wilted.

“Oh buck up, its not that bad!”
MacDuff sank down and covered his forehead with the palm of his hand.
“How could it be worse?”
“Just last month we sent a new commander off with a Miranda class!”
“I meant for me.”
“Well for starters we could have left you the original systems!”
Brandy laughed at his own humor and slapped the Commander on the back, oblivious to his utter dejection.

“Captain, how do they expect an antique starship to do anything?” MacDuff tried to press a point as if it were a topic up for debate. Brandy made clear it wasn’t.

“Its just fine. The technology hasn’t changed all that much, which makes it easy for us to update it. We’ve totally reworked the systems, reinforced the structure in a dozen ways, upgraded the shields, the armament, and anything you can think of.”
“A holodeck?” MacDuff asked hopefully.
“Anything other than that.”

[Shatnerpossum]

Damon Moka rematerialized on the transporter platform, still nursing his bruised ear. Immediately his anxious first mate raced over to him. “Well? Did you get the latinum?”

Moka shoved him off. “No Kono!” He snapped angrily, “We walked into a trap. They snuck up on the others and killed them.”

Kono grimaced. “Then the plan didn’t work.”
“Of course it didn’t you oaf! Now we’ll have to actually do the job.”

Moka started toward the bridge, stomping all the way and hurling epithets at anyone who provoked his ire. He still felt helpless, and that made him all the angrier. When he reached the bridge he sat down in his lavish chair and started thinking. Kono hunkered next to the chair like a begging dog.
“Let me think…” Moka started to scratch at his lobe.
“Maybe we could-“
“No.”
“Well how about-“
“No.”
“Then-“
“Blast it Kono! Stop interrupting me!” Damon Moka reached and shoved his first mate back a few feet.

“I’ve got it now!” Moka leapt to his feet with inspiration somehow gleaned from abusing his underling. “How could I have forgotten my old… business partner…”

“You mean him?” Kono was incredulous. “But he isn’t trustworthy!”
“You idiot! Neither am I!”

---------------------------------------------------

MacDuff was still miserable, but now he had to hide it. He’d made the mistake of sending a communiqué to command along the general lines of “Good God! Why me?” Needless to say command had returned an equally brusque message along the general lines of “you’ll accept whatever we give you, and you’ll like it.” End of story.

So now he had to put on his best false smile, usually reserved for formal occasions with people he didn’t like. That usually meant Uncle Carl, but today it was more difficult. Generally Carl left the next day, but this situation wasn’t going to change. Unless I jumped out of an airlock… The thought had some appeal, but it wasn’t practical. They had safety measures. He set aside his reservations and walked across the gangway toward the Liberty. He paused and looked out the window at her.

She was a pretty ship; the nacelles sloped out at just the right angle. She did have nice lines. Under the lights of the dry-dock, she looked just like Enterprise must have looked for Kirk. Almost immediately, he reprimanded himself for being a sentimental fool. If he wanted to be in command of anything at all, he had to stay on task. He stepped through the gangway and onto the ship.

Though they’d been working on Liberty for a little over a year, it was still hectic inside the dated corridors. Technicians sped by with armfuls of tools or cables. It was obvious that there’d be no one to give him a convenient guided tour. So he glanced down at the pad Captain Brandy had given him.

USS Liberty, Constitution II Class.
Crew Complement 200 (revised from 430)
20 Decks (revised from 23, extra space used for hull reinforcement)
1. Bridge
2. Science Stations
3. Environmental systems, computer core
4. Crew Quarters
5. Crew Quarters
6. Sickbay, Transporter rooms, recreation facilities
7. Support systems
8. Forward- Phaser banks, torpedo bays 1 and 2 Aft- Secondary impulse engines
9. Forward- Sensors Aft-Maintenance
10. Maintenance
11. Fire control center, armory
12. Inertial dampeners
13. Torpedo bays 3 and 4
14. Engineering deck 1
15. Engineering deck 2
16. Engineering deck 3
17. Engineering deck 4
18. Main Engineering
19. Shuttle bays
20. Cargo

So it seemed pretty straight forward, get onto a turbolift and start from the top. He glanced around the corridors and chose a direction. He started to walk down it, avoiding various station personnel in the process. About fifty feet down the corridor he found the turbolift.

The doors opened with a reassuring and gentle whoosh that he was accustomed to. He stepped inside and they closed again. “Bridge.” The turbolift remained still. “Bridge.” His second try was more insistent. He also accompanied it with a kick to the access panel. That got the lift moving, which was rather surprising really. A little while later it came to a stop and the doors opened onto the bridge.

It was a bit like walking into the past. It couldn’t have been further from a modern Galaxy class. The rear section was raised, and it was a step down to access the Captain’s seat and the helm/navigation console, which, unlike a new ship, was one single unit. A guardrail separated the two sections. The rear consoles all had seats, which was a nice touch. But the biggest difference was cosmetic. This bridge was metallic, and gray. The screens on the back were the old pattern, full of greens and blues. It was a massive change from the warm earth tones of the new bridges. But MacDuff liked it, it had a sort of formal dignity. Of course maybe he was saying that because it looked less like his grandma’s living room.

At the moment thought it was especially hectic. There wasn’t a single console that didn’t have a pair of legs protruding from underneath. In the center was an officer directing the chaos with one hand, holding a cup of coffee with the other, and managing a clipboard under one arm. MacDuff waited until the man stopped talking to take a sip, then approached him.

“Hello Lieutenant, I’m Commander MacDuff. I’ll be commanding this vessel.”
After a swallow of coffee, the officer gave a nod of recognition. “Right. We’ve been expecting you Sir. If we stay on schedule, you’ll be ready to depart tomorrow morning. The consoles are functional now, we’re about to replace the console tops-“

MacDuff intervened. “Keep them in, I like the old style.”
“No skin off my teeth.” He turned to the other technicians and yelled over the din. “HEY! LEAVE THE OLD INTERFACE IN!”

He looked back to MacDuff. “No problem sir, its cosmetic so it won’t make a big difference and it saves us time. Now I can finish installing the replicator in the corner.”
“Replicator?”
“Sure, how can you live without coffee on your duty shift?”

[Shatnerpossum]

After two hours of discussion with Ensign X’dactya, Sabak excused himself and headed to his temporary quarters. It had been a productive conversation, touching upon their occupational specialties. Though a tactical officer, she seemed to appreciate warp theory to an extent. She lacked mastery of containment principles. But it was entirely possible this was an oversight at the academy since the retirement of Professor Dowell.

Sabak was rather deep in thought when he turned the corner at an inconvenient time, and collided with a uniformed Starfleet officer. Sabak was barely able to maintain his balance, and the other man was less fortunate. He fell backwards onto the deck. Sabak immediately offered a hand up and his apologies; if he had been human he may have blushed slightly.

“Please pardon my carelessness. I have inadvertently caused a collision.”
The man on the ground took the proffered hand and rose to his feet.
“That’s okay, it was my fault just as much as yours.” He grinned a little behind his beard.
“Indeed Lieutenant Commander…” he fished for a name.
“Latif Amalsi. And you?”
“I am Lieutenant Sabak. I am pleased to meet a fellow officer.”
Amalsi chuckled a little. “There are a lot of us on this starbase. I gather a fair number of us are destined for a new ship.”

Sabak silently pondered the probability of meeting two shipmates in the same day. It was low given the size and population of the starbase ,and the wide vicinity 200 crewmembers could occupy. He tentatively asked which ship.

“USS Liberty, don’t tell me you’re-“
“An officer stationed to the same vessel. It is most improbable that I should meet two fellow officers in the same three hour period, yet it has occurred.”
“Well, its all the better to meet you then. I’ll be the first officer on the ship, and I’ll also be doubling as science officer.”
“I have been assigned as Chief Engineer. May I ask why you will be performing two duties?”
“The reasoning is that since we’ll be a patrol craft, we won’t have much need for scientific personnel. They wanted to keep the crew complement low, so double duty is required to have the minimal scientific knowledge we’ll need. They had me do it because I spent four years as a science officer before I switched to command.”
“I find this policy to be most interesting. Would you care to discuss it in further depth tomorrow?”
“Gladly, how about the observation deck at 0900?”
“That will be a suitable location.”

------------------------------------------

The station crew labored all night to meet their deadline, but by morning all the access panels were in place, the brand new computer was installed and running, the engineering systems were fully functional, and USS Liberty was ready for launch.

MacDuff and Captain Brandy were standing at the viewing area overlooking Liberty and going over the final preparations. Only a skeleton crew was present, about 25 crewmen from the station. The remainder would come onboard at Starbase 67, only a few hours away. This was also where the supplies would be loaded; a crew of 200 needed to be prepared for a yearlong patrol. A crew of 25 didn’t need anything for a three hour trip.

After one year of preparation, there was only one thing left. The bottle of champagne spun weightless through the vacuum, and impacted on the hull just forward of the registry. It shattered and the liquid scattered before freezing, tiny gold droplets that shone over USS Liberty, NCC-1706.

And a mere 45 minutes later Commander Alec MacDuff sat in his command chair for the first time. His chair, his ship, his crew. So what if it was old, what mattered was that it was his trust. The other officers settled into their stations as well. MacDuff glanced at the displays on the arm of his chair, and looked around the bridge. It was time. He reached down to the intercom switch and flipped it. Immediately across all decks the electronic chime of a Bosun’s whistle sounded. “Attention. All hands to your stations, prepare for departure.” He cut the channel and swiveled to face the crewman manning the engineering console. “Bring the engines up to standby.” The crewman nodded and started to do it.
“Open a channel to dock control.”
“Channel open.”
“Control, this is Liberty. Requesting permission to depart.”
“Permission granted Liberty. Godspeed.”

MacDuff smiled. “Thanks Control.” He closed the channel and stared at the main viewer. “Helm, take us out at one quarter impulse.”

Slowly the view ahead crept closer. The massive enclosed facility dominated the view. Various ships littered the interior, each in individual slots. Some were lit with the flashes of arc welders while others sat in cold silence. One by one, they were passed by, by one of their own risen from the dead as they might be one day. And at last, Liberty passed into the blackness of space, punctuated by the shimmering diamonds that were millions of stars, surrounded by countless worlds. And on them millions looked up at the same diamonds scattered across the deep blackness.

Though he’d left dozens of facilities like this before, this time was different. This time it was his ship, his free reign of the stars. No longer was he a mere observer, he was now the Commander of his own starship. As the drydock behind him shrank in the distance, he gave another command. One he’d been savoring for many years. “Set your course for Starbase 67, warp four. Engage.”

---------------------------------------


“Hey Park! How ‘bout this one: How many Vulcans does it take to change a light bulb?”

Ensign Park Dae-Jung closed his eyes and massaged his forehead. “Two, one to change it and the other to ask what’s so funny. You already told that one.” He spoke evenly and politely concealed his exasperation.

Ensign Hanover failed to notice that his jokes were not appreciated. “Okay then, how about this. What do the Klingons do to a burned out bulb?”

“Do I dare to ask?”
“They execute it for failure!”

A crewman at a nearby table heard it and started to chuckle. Park obligingly tried to laugh. The crewman turned his chair around and faced them. “And you know what they do to the Klingon who changes it? They execute him for cowardice!”

In the midst of the riotous laughter, Park stood up and excused himself. It wasn’t that he disliked Hanover, it was just that more than ten minutes of Hanover’s “light bulb” jokes was too much. He looked around for a table as far from the lousy jokes as possible. He settled on a window booth with a Vulcan and bearded man, there was no chance that he’d try to tell jokes. “Excuse me sirs, may I join you?” he politely asked.

The occupants gestured to an empty spot and Park filled it. “Hello, I’m Ensign Park.”
“Lieutenant Sabak.”
“Lieutenant Commander Almasi. Good to meet you.”

The conversation continued again, revolving around their different specialties and duty assignments. Sabak was finally starting to accept the haphazard encounters with shipmates, and trying to figure out where exactly his calculations of probability had gone astray. He decided his time would be better-spent gaining familiarity with his coworkers.

Almasi was doing everything a first officer should, gaining familiarity with his subordinates and doing his best to put them at ease. He was doing this mostly by making small talk, and the other benefit was learning more about them.
“Tell me Mr. Park, where are you from?”
“I was born in Kaesong, in Korea. But my parents were in Starfleet and we moved around frequently. I spent half my life on ships or starbases. Can I ask where you’re from sir?”
“Beirut. I also lived in the Bekaa valley for a while with my uncle. I almost became a farmer, but that was before I was interested in astronomy. After that I knew I wanted to join Starfleet. What made it your decision?”
“It was my life, what I knew. I couldn’t see myself doing anything else.”

Almasi nodded in understanding. “And how about you Lieutenant Sabak?”

The Vulcan cleared his throat. “I demonstrated mechanical proficiency at an early age, and found the apparatuses used for scientific activities interested me more than the activities themselves. Many of my peers saw this as unusual or undesirable, but my uncle Spork-“
Immediately the humans’ faces became distorted with suppressed laughter. A few giggles started to slip out.
“Do you require medical attention? You seem to be suffering from some sort of respiratory distress…”
Park and Almasi failed to suppress their laughter, it gushed out, provoking a raised eyebrow.
“I fail to see what is so humorous-“

Park grimaced when he saw that the laughter had attracted Hanover. The ensign had walked over with a grin. “What was it Park, did you tell them the one about the two Romulans at the shuttle stop?”

Mercifully, they were spared by an announcement from the PA system. Attention: All crew of USS Liberty, gather your belongings and form up at docking port Two Alpha.

[comedianmasta]

Ok, hold the phone. Now, I can officially say that I can tell it is well written, and you have a very good udnerstanding about your characters. But I want to warn you now, that I am SO LOST because of my Star Trek-less knowledge that I am having a really hard time following. I feel so BAD! I'm going to look around online for an episode or two... I'm sure the orriginal Series 1 is free SOMEWHERE! I feel so bad because I can't comment any more and it is so ahrd to read because I just don't GET what you are talking about. Sorry!!

[Shatnerpossum]

Well, its not as good as watching for a year or two, but try this: Star Trek Wiki - Memory Alpha (http://memory-alpha.org/wiki/Portal:Main)

If its confusing, type it in.

[Shatnerpossum]

Ferengi vessel, state your purpose in Klingon space.
The voice crackled through the speakers in the front of Moka’s bridge. The Ferengi preferred not to have visual contact. Those Klingons are so disgusting. Moka grimaced as he replied.

“Ah! Commander Kras, my old friend. This is Damon Moka, I was in the area and I hoped we could have a drink together. You know, like old times.”

Onboard the Klingon ship Commander Kras looked to the Communications officer. “Keep him off visual, Ferengi are repulsive creatures. Without honor.” Then he motioned to transmit a reply.
“Yes Damon, I remember you. But after your last visit you should be grateful we haven’t blown your garbage scow to bits!”
There was a chortle of laughter among his crew.
“I thought you might be interested in discussing our mutual friends, you know the ones.”

Kras debated internally. Would it be better to blow him out of space, ensuring secrecy was kept, or would it be wiser to hear him out. After some thought he decided on the latter, the shrewd bastard probably had someone else ready to reveal the past “business arrangements.”
“Very well, you will follow us to the nearest system. Then YOU will pay for the drinks. End transmission.”

Moka scowled on the bridge of his ship. That demanding bastard, and those drinks will probably cost me all I made on that delivery of Romulan Ale to Coridan.
“All right, follow them.”

The Ferengi merchant vessel turned and followed the Bird of Prey.
---------------------------------

The thirty officers of USS Liberty were standing by with their gear at the designated docking port, gazing out at the viewing window at the approaching starship.

“It appears to be a Constitution class vessel, most remarkable.” Sabak took the news in stoic and unemotional Vulcan fashion. The others expressed more surprise. It hadn’t been announced to them what class of ship they were posted to. They’d just heard “re-commissioned and refurbished vessel.”
“It looks… nice.” Almasi tried to put a positive spin on it.
“Are you kidding? It looks like Captain Kirk should be flying around in it.” Ensign Hanover was less convinced.
“Ensign, Starfleet would not be so lax as to launch any ship not prepared and suited to its task.” Sabak’s confidence made up for Hanover’s doubt.
“Lets hope you’re right Lieutenant,” was Park’s contribution.

A few feet away Ensign X’dactya was standing next to another security officer.
“I hope she’s got it where it counts.”
“Oh, she will. You can even see the extra torpedo bays and phaser banks.”
“Hey, you’re right.”
“I always am, Janssen.”

The 70 NCOs seemed more stoic than the officers and more confident than the enlisted crewmen. They’d been through tougher postings, and they had enough fleet experience to not judge a book by its cover.

The ship docked, and shortly the temporary crew disembarked. Most seemed to be happy, they’d had the chance to man a ship instead of loiter around a dry dock. And now they had recreation time at a starbase.

When they had left, the Chief Petty Officer supervising loading waved on the crew. “Engineering crewmen, head to Deck 5 Aft. Tactical crewmen, Deck 5 Forward. Science and Medical crewmen…”
The voice droned on, listing the locations of each section’s living quarters as crewmen and officer walked into the ship in a slow and steady trickle.

Due to the lowered crew complement, each officer had his or her own quarters. They were Spartan, but of decent size. Sykla tossed her duffle down onto the bed and surveyed the features. It was pretty standard: a table with a few chairs in one corner, a bed, a closet, and bathroom. Adequate. But it was dated and blank of course, everyone would have a lot of customizing to do. She did have the additional bonus of a large window. She walked over to it and stared out. Some technician in a window of the station waved genially. She waved back.

Sabak entered his quarters and glanced around. The raw material was there for what he needed. He could devote his quarters to meditation. There were no windows to distract. All in all, he was quite satisfied with the accommodations.

All across the ship, officers and crew were settling into their quarters. They’d had enough time to stow their belongings, and that meant it was time for Commander MacDuff to assemble his officers.

[Shatnerpossum]

Gul Bekam sat in the corner of his favored eating establishment and waited for the right hour. He ate sparingly, making his main course last as long as possible. Eating too much or too fast would be suspicious and could draw unwanted attention. So he dipped his spoon into his soup slowly, without hurry, and as if he did not have a care in the world. His efforts were rewarded when his contact sat across from him.

He didn’t know his name or who he was, only that he was his connection to the secretive Obsidian Order, the government’s secret police and elite.
“I’m glad to see you came Bekam. We’ve been hoping you would have something to report.”
“I’ve started the process moving, the Ferengi will obtain the supplies we need. And then the pieces will be ready to reclaim what was ours.”
“Rest assured Bekam, if you succeed the government will be grateful to you. You will be a hero. But if you fail, you will die and we will disavow all knowledge of you.”
“I understand, but death is a small price.”

Bekam’s contact chuckled softly. “Good. Then you know what we expect. Stay in touch.”

He rose and walked out of the restaurant, entering the streets and taking a complex route to ensure he was not being followed. After fifteen minutes, and when he was certain, he reached his true destination: the headquarters for the Obsidian Order. Here he would submit his confidential report to the highest authorities. For now he only had to submit a few simple words: Operation Reclamation has begun.

-------------------------------

“Welcome to USS Liberty. I am your commanding officer, Commander Alec J. MacDuff. I do not yet know all of you, but in the coming days and months, I plan to get to know you. On that topic, how about a little ‘get-to-know-you’ activity? Say, name, favorite color, and birthday?”

Most of the assembled officers laughed. Sabak was merely confused.

“In all seriousness, let me make our mission clear. We have been assigned a one year patrol of this sector-“
A map of the sector appeared on a screen in the conference room.

“As you can see, to the top of our patrol is the Cardassian border. To the bottom is our border with the Tholian Assembly. Since this zone covers such a large expanse and so many sectors, its been decided we are to be part of a network of patrol ships. There are five ships patrolling along the Tholian border, and six along the Cardassian border. There are only three in between, the Wilcox, the Brannigan, and the Spruance. That’s why we will be patrolling along the entire expanse with the Jefferson. We are to be on call to assist any vessel that needs reinforcements. Since you are my officers, this knowledge will help you lead your subordinates. Now all of you are dismissed, but my department heads are to stay. “

The officers filed out and left the room emptier. As they did, MacDuff smiled a little. He’d done better than he’d thought. Public speaking had never been a strong spot for him, especially not with large groups. Small groups were always better for him. And now there were just four people to talk to. Easy enough. He scanned the conference table they were seated around. There was a Vulcan in a gold uniform, an Andorian in a teal uniform and doctor’s jacket, a bearded human in another teal uniform, and an Orion in a gold uniform.

He decided he’d go down the line, starting with the Vulcan. “All right, lets start with you. Name, rank, and position.”
“Sabak, Lieutenant, Chief Engineer.”

“ErketHull zh’Hara, I’m a Doctor and Chief Medical Officer.” The Andorian paused for a moment, then said, “You may find it easier to call me Dr. Hara.”

“Latif Almasi, Lieutenant Commander. I’m your first officer and your science officer.”

“Sykla X’dactya, Ensign, Tactical and Security officer.”

MacDuff didn’t like the sound of that. “A department head should be higher than an Ensign. Congratulations on your promotion Lieutenant Junior Grade.”

Sykla was obviously surprised, “Thank you Commander,” she tentatively responded

“You’re welcome Lieutenant X’dactya.” I hope I’m pronouncing that right…

“Now all of you: go to your sections now and get acquainted with your sections. Lieutenant Commander Almasi, I’d like to have a chat with my first officer.”

The others vacated the room and left the two officers together. Almasi stayed in his seat while MacDuff stood and paced. “So, I can’t say I know where to begin with this Almasi-“
“Please call me Latif, sir.”
“Right. Sorry to be so formal. You know,” he stopped pacing and glanced back to his first officer. “Just a few months ago I was in the same position you are now? I was first officer on the Hood. I’d gotten too used to it actually. But now I’m here and learning to do a new job.”
“Never the easiest thing to do sir, but if your Captain felt you were ready for this then you probably are.”
“Nice of you to say that Latif, but I still make mistakes. When I do make ‘em, just throw something at me and yell ‘no’. Worked on my cat when I was 15, so I figure it should work well now.”

Almasi laughed at that. “I know what that’s like, it reminds me of when I was little and my uncle would tell me to go do chores. I never did it fast enough, so he’d smack me on the side of the head and say ‘yella!’”

MacDuff looked a little confused.

“It means ‘come on’ or ‘hurry up.’”
“Oh, I get it. My grandma used to do the same, but she used a shoe.”

That prompted laughter and the two men proceeded to find more in common.

[Shatnerpossum]

Damon Moka sat uncomfortably in the corner booth at a Klingon tavern on Bortas. It was miserable for several reasons; the most immediate was the horrible seat. It was so uncomfortable without padding or even simple upholstery. But even worse, Bortas was a small planet in the hind end of Klingon space. It was so boring out here that violence and drinking served as the only recreation. Or maybe that’s just common to all Klingon worlds…

He stifled his qualms and got to business as Commander Kras sat across from him.

“What is it you want Moka, I don’t have time for foolishness.” Kras spit out his words, obviously full of contempt for the little scavenging worm before him.

Moka delved into the business proposal he’d been carefully formulating. “Commander, I represent a very wealthy party who have a few… needs you may be able to assist with. You may find them very… profitable.”
“There’s more to life than profit Ferengi,” Kras grumbled. “There is also honor.”
“Oh, don’t delude yourself. If you had any chance to regain prestige you wouldn’t be here.” Moka took a calculated risk by baiting the Klingon commander.

Kras slammed his fists into the table. “You miserable petaQ! I should wipe the floor with you here and now!”

“Then you wouldn’t have the opportunity I’m offering you… for honor, and a second chance.”

Kras stopped mid-swing. “What do you mean, ‘second chance’?”

Moka tried to smile benevolently, and as usual for his species, it came across as a sneer. “First you help me, then I help you.”

Kras weighed the options in his mind. After a few moments he decided that even if Moka betrayed him he would be no worse off, and then he’d have an excuse to snap the filthy taHqeq’s neck.

“What do you need,” he spoke through clenched teeth.

Moka lowered his voice. “Contact with our friends with the pointy ears.”
Kras’ eyes widened slightly. “You ask for much. It will take several days.”
Moka nodded in acceptance. “Do not take more than a week, my client isn’t a man of patience.”
------------------------------------------

The officers onboard Liberty had spent roughly four hours getting acquainted with the ship and with their sections. All the crewmen had settled into their quarters, met their section leaders, and were now on duty schedules.

Sabak had finished his inspection of the antimatter containment units, fuel storage, warp nacelles, and main engineering. He’d pronounced everything functional and in excellent condition.

And now that meant it was time. MacDuff left his quarters and headed for the lift. He felt confident for a change, he’d met his officers, he’d remembered their names, and he’d done the briefing well. He stepped into the lift and ordered it to the bridge.

It arrived in no time at all, and he stepped onto the bridge. His officers were there. Ensigns Park and Hanover on Navigation and Helm, a crewman he didn’t know at the communications station, Lieutenant (JG) X’dactya sitting at the tactical console toward the rear of the bridge, Lieutenant Sabak seated at the engineering console, and his first officer at the science console. The bridge was full and ready.

MacDuff walked down the bridge, his boots clanging on the metal deck. He stepped down from the upper ring into the pit area. His chair sat there, beckoning him. He obliged it and took his station. Now the bridge was ready.

“Contact the Starbase and request clearance to depart,” he politely commanded the crewman at the Communications station.

“Starbase has granted us clearance Sir,” the crewman swiveled around his chair to deliver the news, then, promptly swiveled back to his console, slipping his headset on again.

“Excellent. Ensign Hanover, take us out slowly. Thrusters only.”

Hanover glanced down at his console and started to move the nearly thousand foot long ship forward.

Across the Starbase interior some stopped to watch. For many of the civilians it was a novelty to watch a Starfleet vessel leave port, some of the pointing teens and children probably built models, which had now come to life. Most of the station’s crew continued to bustle about with business that couldn’t wait, but here and there, a technician or an engineer stopped to admire an old warhorse heading once more unto the breach.

“Kick it up to one quarter impulse Mr. Hanover.”

“Aye sir, pedal to the metal.”

Liberty moved forward with panache now, leaving with impulse engines wasn’t exactly endorsed, but it wasn’t prohibited. It was generally the commander’s prerogative, and some of the greats had that same style.

The ship was out now and the Starbase floated like a massive jellyfish in a black aquarium. Looking back was tempting, but now it was time for looking ahead.

“Ensign Park, lay in a course for Starbase 214, warp factor 4. Its time to start the first leg of our patrol.” The engines throbbed slightly as the nacelles drew power to create the warp field. Then the stars turned into lines, and the journey began.

[Shatnerpossum]

It took about half a day to reach Starbase 214 and the other patrol vessels. That gave them time to treat it as a real shakedown cruise. Sabak ran the engines up to 10% past redline, which he described as “sufficient for 95.783% of possible scenarios.” Lieutenant X’dactya had spent most of the time running speed drills on the weapons systems and practicing with targeting sensors. She seemed to be enjoying it a little too much actually. Latif seemed to be contented by playing with the all the science sensors and the console, probably imagining Spock doing the same thing so long ago.

Even Ensign Hanover had warmed up to an old ship. He’d taken a real liking to the way Liberty handled, and had some humorous suggestions about wearing old uniforms and feigning ignorance of the stardate. Park had spent most of the time sitting stiffly in his seat.

MacDuff had imagined the others were testing out their own stations as well, but he had only paid heed to his bridge crew. But he hadn’t been so fixed on their activities that he couldn’t have his own. He’d mastered all the buttons on his swiveling chair, from the intercom down to the emergency bridge controls. And after that, he’d figured out the replicator… and learned that the espresso was lousy, but the French roast was okay. And then he’d sat there and skimmed personnel bios he’d been ignoring. He’d discovered that Ensign Alverez was born on Rigel and liked botany, Ensign Price was from Alpha Centauri and studied warp theory at the Academy, and even that Master Chief Petty Officer Breckinridge was the Quartermaster who came from Louisiana. That had made him sit up, he didn’t even know they had a Quatermaster.

And after getting bored of that he’d silently prepared his own little speech. Space, its very large and vast. The lucky ones can travel endlessly and always see new sights. The unlucky ones only see the same sights.

Incidentally, he’d realized that sounded horrible, he’d have to get a speechwriter if he wanted to do anything like that. And then, even though he’d felt as if time froze on the bridge, they were suddenly there.

One Starbase was pretty much like any other from the outside. Some floated alone, and some were orbiting a planet that had graciously offered to host it. Starbase 214 was the latter. It was built at the request of the Terradin people, known for little besides numerous hot springs. Apparently, they figured it would help their economy and traffic. It did, but its real value was close proximity to Cardassian space without getting close enough for trouble. So naturally, most of the traffic was Starfleet.

There were a few other ships there, including the Wilcox and the Jefferson. Wilcox was taking the closest patrol section and Jefferson would head in the opposite direction from Liberty. But for the meantime, there would be three Federation starships here. But that wasn’t a problem. The base was large enough for three or four times as many ships if needed, and they wouldn’t be here longer than a few days anyway.

-------------------------------------------

Commander Kras had arranged a pretext to allow him to visit Balduk, a small planet near Romulan space. It hadn’t been a great challenge for one of such former glory. They were willing to extend him courtesy and the appearance of honor while at the same time they relegated him to obscurity. It had taken him three days to arrange the meeting, faster than a hungry targ after a bone. Should he have felt guilty for dealing with Romulans? Maybe, but his level of duplicity was no more heinous than any influential Klingon’s power plays. Sure, the Romulans had attacked Khitomer so many years ago, but what did it matter? No, Commander Kras vestai Trag had no regrets, reservations, or guilt.

He stepped out of the boisterous gathering place into the damp night. It had been raining for almost four hours now (a common occurrence during the rainy season), which ensured that idle spectators would be inside and the meeting would be unobserved. He walked across the plaza and ducked into a small alley. Sure enough, he was there. The cloaked figure walked over to him nonchalantly. When he was close enough that whispers would reach only Kras’ ears, he spoke.

“Tell me Kras, what is so important you called me here on such short notice?” Centurion Velus of the Romulan Star Empire asked.

“A deal that will get me glory and can get you whatever you wish.”

Velus looked wary, he was paranoid as only a Romulan can be. “You’ll have to tell me more than that.”

“That’s all I know. Meet him yourself and find out.”

“Very well. I will discuss this with my associates. Tell him to meet at these coordinates. If we choose to listen we will be there in two days.” He produced a data card from under his cloak.

Kras took it and watched the Romulan slip away into the darkness.

[Spock]

Gah, just saw the additions, I'll be reading it tomorrow. :)

[Shatnerpossum]

Please do. I've been meaning to add more, but I've fallen behind with my writing.