James T. Kolk

"The Dread Pirate Jackford" by Jackford B. Kolk Romulan Warbird, Stardate 63493.9 A formerly very drunk human of Euro-American descent woke rather suddenly when something hit his face hard. There was pain there now. There wasn't supposed to be pain. It's not nice to give someone pain. He looked about but his eyes couldn't focus. Before he could see much more than the vague colors of green, black, and grey, he noticed more pain. As the pain in his cheek subsided, a dull pain in his wrists humbly requested his attention. Thinking about it, he realized he must have been held up by chains attached to his wrists. That wasn't very nice either. Blinking, he was almost able to make out the form of someone in front of him, and a long slender something protruding from their right and coming toward him suddenly. More pain! Yep, there was definitely someone there. Either he'd gotten drunk somewhere he shouldn't have, or someone not very nice had captured him. Given the things he could remember doing in the last few days, and the unkind manner in which he'd been awoken, he was willing to bet good latinum on the latter. Maybe he should've been more careful about where he got drunk last night... A disturbingly sensual female voice whispered at him from about 10 centimeters in front of his face. As it did, he could see pinkish green skin, the vague outline of eye sockets, a mouth with greenish-blue lipstick, and short black hair. "For a Federation Spy, you're even more idiotic than I'd expected." He blinked several times until some of the gunk in his eyes had been dislodged so that he could make out the face. Definitely a woman. Vulcan or Romulan. Judging by the tone of voice, combined with the fact that he'd been harassing Romulan warships just because he could, she was probably Romulan. He did his best to smile, but the blood from his lip that was now playing Plinco with the hairs of his goatee made it look a little odd. "And you're even more ugly than I'd expected," he retorted in a less than convincing manner. She stepped back and slapped him again and he let his head drop. Look at that, there was red blood on the floor. She probably didn't think it was nice of him to bleed on her floor, but he figured it made them even. He looked back up and she'd returned to just in front of his face. "Alright, I lied. You're mildly attractive... for a Romulan." He closed his eyes to brace for another slap, but she refrained. Instead she brought her face closer. As she spoke, her breath was delicious, like the best strawberries he'd ever tasted... and he hadn't tasted strawberries in years. He was tempted to try and kiss her, just to throw her off, but the thought of a real basket of Earth strawberries was too distracting. He opted to plan a route back to Earth to get some instead. As she tilted her head interestedly and spoke again, he found his possible escape plans littered with ideas of how to use kissing her to get away... the taste of strawberries was just too overwhelming. "Who are you? And what makes you think you can harass the Empire without punishment?" He smiled. Perhaps now was the time to kiss her... Andor, Stardate 63569.7 Roughly a month later, in a sector, oh... not too far away, a group of five brownish-red starships glided into orbit around the wintry planet. The Andorian Imperial Guard's database registered them as Vulcan vessels so their presence was accepted without much consideration. After all the Andorians and the Vulcans had been allies since the days of Jonathan Archer and the founding of the Federation. They were slightly less welcoming, however, when the Vulcan ships started bombarding the planet... From a safe distance, the Dread Pirate Jackford (as the Alternate Universe version of Jackford B. Kolk of the USS Ronin decided he was to be called this week) watched and smiled with evil glee. Starting the Gorn/Cardassian war had been a long, slow, beautiful dance. This...? This was just fun. He was fairly certain there'd be Federation diplomats working for peace almost instantly, but with the resources of the Romulan Star Empire backing him, he might still have a chance to devolve the situation into the very first civil war in the history of the United Federation of Planets. Now that would be an accomplishment. Roughly 7 billion dead in both reptilian empires had given him a modicum of vengeful satisfaction, but... he'd learned quickly enough that his soul still longed for more. He couldn't help but feel he was created for a greater purpose than mere revenge. And his new accomplice and lover had helped him find it. Sure, he couldn't trust Sheval, but that didn't mean he couldn't enjoy her passionate side until their plan was complete and they had to see who would kill whom first... As the Imperial Guard pummelled the "Vulcan" fleet to bits, Jackford smiled. Romulans were so predictable. They sacrificed themselves willingly for the prospect of the civil war simply because they saw it as a chance to expand their Empire where the Federation had so long denied them room. They'd demanded proof that their involvement wouldn't be discovered, but their expansionist fever was easily manipulated by the master manipulator. It was child's play after talking and teasing the Gorn and the Cardassians into slaughtering one another. Undisclosed Location, Stardate 63597.4 As predicted, a peace summit had been called, and, although not invited, the Dread Pirate Jackford and his Romulan friends showed up to... expedite the process. In the guise of Andorian Imperial warships this time, they waited for the summit to begin, then charged in, this time with a significantly larger fleet, knowing that Starfleet would be defending. It took some doing, but they managed to kill at least a few of the delegates before retreating. They couldn't afford to assemble an overly massive fleet, and it really wasn't required. All they needed to do was perpetrate a few more random attacks and create enough confusion for their operatives throughout the rest of the Federation to encourage various key worlds to pick sides. Risa, Stardate 65729.3 Little more than two standard years later, the Civil War had escalated into an all-out Galactic War. The Romulan Star Empire had, of course, taken the opportunity to claim several key worlds, including Risa (because Jack and Sheval wished it) and a number of Klingon worlds. With the majority of their work done, Jackford the War-Starter (his new name, for now) and Sheval (with a fleet of Romulan Warbirds watching for enemy fleets overhead) took a sabbatical on the still-coveted pleasure-haven of Risa. Jack, in short shorts and a near-non-existent open-chested shirt, lay on his back sunbathing. Sheval, equally barely dressed in the customary Risan vacation attire, had wandered off to get something special for her lover and co-conspirator. When she returned, Jack opened his eyes at the pleasant breeze that her motion created and smiled like a nigh-slumbering kitten. "What did you bring me, e'lev?" the contented human asked. "A treat you've been waiting years to taste..." "Mmmmm. I love it when you're secretive." He sat up to recieve her gift. As she opened the lid of the dark Risan Mahogany box, a sight he'd only dreamt of for nearly a decade met his eyes. Real, Terran strawberries! "Are they...?!!" Sheval smiled in that disturbingly heartless way she had, "Direct from Earth, e'lev." "Oh, how I love you, Sheval!" Her smile never fading for an instant, she held the small box out under his nose. "Enjoy..." He dug in, forgetting the pledge they had made to pleasure each other until it no longer served their purposes. He had foolishly begun to think that they loved each other and that he was therefore safe. But she had been biding her time, making plans within plans, schemes within his schemes. And now, it was time. The war was nearly over, and the Federation in shambles. It would soon be time to claim her rightful place as Praetor of the Empire, and she would share that glory with no one. Not even the man who'd made it all possible. Though they tasted perfect and were, in fact, from Earth, the strawberries were also laced with Iocane powder, that perfect, millennia-old, tasteless, odorless poison... Jack was enthralled by the luxuriant taste of the strawberries. It had been far too long since he'd tasted them. In his universe of origin, Earth was now only a shadow of itself. Ravaged by the Gorn, no living thing now existed there. It was a barren wasteland little better than a Class Y "Demon" planet. In this universe, he'd warn out his welcome more than once and hadn't been free to go to Earth since he'd nearly killed Captain Mar there several years ago. Even the short time he'd had there had not afforded him the luxury of eating real Earth strawberries. Still, there was solace in the fact that the man who'd kept him busy that trip was dead and crumbled to bits from Acute Cellular Decay. (It was such a shame he hadn't been able to stay and watch...) As he bit into the penultimate berry, Jack finally opened his eyes and gave heed to a sense other than his taste buds to look into the eyes of his one true love... Which was when it hit him: there was something odd about her expectant stare. But perhaps it was merely a vicarious enjoyment of his elation. "Don't you want to try one, e'lev?" Her smile finally struck fear into him as she spoke tauntingly. "Perhaps when I'm Praetor, Jack, and you are no more." "Sheval? I..." Trying to stand up, he noted a distinct weakness throughout his body. "You should've known not to match wits with a Romulan, e'lev. You could not win." The look in Jack's eyes betrayed the sheer anguish and betrayal he felt. Once again, the one person he thought he could trust had torn his heart out with her bare hands. Addy's betrayal on the Alternate DS17 had been painful, sharing their bed with another man, but this... It was so final and... bittersweet. A gift and a curse at the same time... Maybe this was all that love could ever be. He focused all his will on standing despite the poison, his limbs loosing strength by the moment. Taking the last strawberry in his hand, he engulfed it, whole, in his mouth. Then kissed her with every ounce of strength he had left, forcing the final strawberry into her mouth with his tongue. He loved her, in his own way, and if it had to end this way, then he would do all he could to at least bring her with him into death... THE END

Congratulations all. You performed admirably... even if your FO did get himself killed. Welcome to the fleet!

I know I'm in here for the inspiration... ::scribbles down notes and runs off to a secret place to write his story::

It has such all-encompassing implications... One word comes to mind: Inconceivable!

"Sokkan's Fulcrum" by Quinn Reynolds I enjoyed the basic story, and the deception is definitely worthy of a Romulan. However I found the amount of typos a bit distracting, most notably the misspelling of both of the lead Romulans' names at a couple places. We get a lot of reminders to proof read around the fleet, but we all fail more than we'd like to. That being said, this really was a good story. I liked the quote from Marcus Aurelius as the openning. It set a good tone for the story and truly did feel more like a Romulan quotation than a Roman one. (Although I suppose that really just belies how Roman history shaped the creation of the fictional enemies of the Federation.) The piece makes me want to know what Sokkan intends to do now that he's insinuatd himself into Starfleet and I'm curious if we'll get a chance to see that in future competitions. And, as we all know, making your readers want more is always the sign of a well written story. Good job, Quinn.

"Vanished" by Toni Turner Like so many of your stories, this one was filled with passion and commitment and a tone of loving sadness that's almost palpable. I deeply enjoyed it. And her undying hope imparts a quiet serenity that, despite the sadness of a lifetime set apart, brings a soft smile to my face. I'm not sure if I recommend living the way Perin did, although in some ways I do, but I tend to think that there's a... a yearning in all of us for a love as powerful as the kind that you've described in this story. It's perhaps a tad melodramatic and most would tend to think that she should probably have allowed herself to get over her loss after so many years, but... I like the way you validate her hope and counteract that "common sense" objection to it without being preachy or unbelievable. It's a truly well written and uplifting story. Thanks for sharing it with us, Toni.

"Grand Intervention" by Nemitor Atimen As I recently said in a SIM on the Ronin, "The Directive is so clear cut on a PADD, but in real life... it's always a colossal mess." Ever since the invention of the Prime Directive by the Great Bird of the Galaxy, writers, actors, characters, and philosophers have been wrestling with its moral implications. So many times it's a matter of interpretation. At one and the same time it seems to affirm life and freedom and goodness as well as tragedy and hardship and death. You said well, Nemitor, in the words of your captain, that "in the end it's all the same - sentient life is to be treasured above all else, and a species is infinitely larger than a single life. One who lives should never watch idly as a civilization ceases to exist, even if it is not his own." But so often it's hard to see clearly where the line should be drawn. You explore this one man's decision on that point so poignantly. Also, I think it's so helpful to be able to see it more from the "primitive" civilization's (or individual's) viewpoint. Because we get so used to thinking about it from the perspective of Starfleet Officers, that we have a hard time putting ourselves in the shoes of the "victims" of the Prime Directive. I also love that you don't tell us whether the unnamed captain made the right choice, you just tell us what happened and how he justified that decision. You let us consider his logic and come to our own decision. I've always felt the the Prime Directive was meant to be constantly challenged, bent, banged on, and tested. Because if it's just a rule that we follow blindly, it's purpose is empty. But if it's a guideline that reminds us that we are not as powerful and all-knowing as we sometimes think we are, that there may be something we haven't considered, then it has helped us to "better ourselves," as this thing we call Star Trek has always meant us to be doing. Bravo, Nemitor. Keep making us think.

"Dawn Breaking the Night" by Delinda Sharee This story is just plain beautiful. I love the realism and honesty of the story. And I love the way you open it by telling us that it's the best day of your narrator's life and, by then dragging us through the hardship of it and the misery, you pull us into the same mindset of the character (insofar as that's possible for those of us who've never seen real war) so that we're fighting desperately to keep the hope alive that something good truly will come out of it and almost giving up on that hope. And then, you surprise us with the pure, indomitable joy of new life. I noticed one or two typos that slipped through the cracks, but I'm fairly convinced that there's a special demon somewhere just spreading typos through all the best writings, so I'm sure it's not your fault. Regardless, this is an astoundingly profound and powerful story that I'm glad to see was voted the best of the bunch. Well done, Delinda!

Are you sure you posted that in the correct thread, Iolo? This is the Writing Challenge Discussion, not one of the Indy's threads...

I feel for ya man. I mean, don't it always seem to go that you don't know what you got till it's gone?

That's a dollar and a half, actually, Sal. But I agree. Let's put away the DDT. I don't care about spots on my apples; leave me the birds and the bees.

This thread is for Della Vetri's story, "Final Flight."

Just adding the completed icon for Tal.

Tal Tel-ar, Did you mean your Klingon story to be marked as completed? or in-progress? Right now it's marked as neither and thus is not technically competing.

Thanks a ton! I'm really honored. I pretty much was just having fun writing that piece. I love thinking like a Q... Does this mean I can't submit a story for the "Lightning Round?" though? (Just checking)

Does that mean you'll do it?? I'm dying to know if I managed 2nd place or not!

I'm guessing being one of those who entered the competition would disqualify me, right? Salak? You never compete, why don't you judge the rest of us?

Please tell me the Writing Challenge isn't going to die. It's part of the heart and soul of this organization. So many of us love this group because it gives us a place to practice and improve our writing skills. This Competition has always been one of the best places to do that since it gives us both more freedom of context to write from and more direct feedback on what we've written. I think I speak for everyone who's been talking on this forum when I say that we all want this competition to continue as it has for so many years rather than die a slow, languishing death. If there's anything any of us can do to help it do so, please let us know.

((USS Ronin, Sickbay)) :: The gently blinking lights of the nearly empty sickbay covered the man sitting facing the single activated cryogenic tube. The red haired woman inside appeared to be gently sleeping while standing, a slight bluish tinge to the skin the only clue otherwise. Despite which, the man appeared to be holding a conversation with her. :: Walker: ...and then Morgan just ordered us home! Can you believe that? I mean a Romulan Tal'Shiar...and he thought that it would work. :: As he paused, the man began nodding as if hearing another voice speaking. :: Walker: Ok....point, my father did bring my stepmother back, but that was entirely different. I mean it's not like they'd fit in... :: The blush on his face made it appear as if the woman had made a pointed, and all too correct, remark. :: Walker: Well not everyone has you to guide them into fitting in. :: Pulling a bottle from behind him, he filled both of them a quarter of the way full of the amber liquid. :: Walker: You're not supposed to have this yet, but I thought it might make you feel a bit better...restore some color to those cheeks. :: Rubbing his eyes and yawning, he chuckled :: Walker: Yeah...it's been a day. Had to tell Danny that he was first officer, Cara that she was second, and everyone else that I was in charge. :: Had the woman's eyes been open, she would have stared sightlessly down at him, as it was he reacted as if she'd spoken. :: Walker: Yeah I know, crazy isn't it? Admiral Anassasi put me in charge until we can find something to save Captain Mar. :: The woman's face remained impassive. :: Walker: We're going into the Ithassa region, beyond where we've been before. Trying to find the solution. We'll need to be looking into some of the rumors from that region, or even find new ones to search. :: With a slight hiss, the pod lowered itself to a horizontal position. As it did the man almost leaped up, moving to the side as he did. :: Walker: Oh that's my doing. They were going to keep you on your feet every day. I told them that you did that enough in here, that at least sometimes you'd want to lie down. :: Hands stroking the outside of the pod, he continued on. :: Walker: We're going to need your help Ro. There's no way we can find the answer without... :: Finally the facade broke completely as he fell against the pod weeping. :: Walker: *I* need you Ro. I'm going crazy with you like that. How can I lead them...without you with me? How can I do it with my heart in pieces? :: As the tears rolled off the clear seal around her, his sobbing slowed and stopped. :: Walker: You're right...I know you are. You'll be fine soon enough, and then we'll be back together. And if I don't get at least some sleep...Danny will beat me...and never let me forget it. :: Leaning down he blew a kiss to her cold, frozen lips. :: Walker: Until you wake my love. :: Walking out of sickbay as his wife slept, the lights gently dimmed. One light remained, illuminating the bottle and two glasses of scotch untouched by either. :: Cmdr Ben Walker CO USS Ronin

I summarized for a reason... well, a couple, really, but yeah.

Yeah, that's not right. I think we should have the rating be open rather than anonymous. It would discourage malicious rating, and encourage explanitory commenting.

It's the last thing I type. Who looks at the last thing they type?

Right! Forgot about that. Suppose that explains the hangup then...

Speaking of the boss of this comp, shouldn't there be another challenge up by now too? I want to keep writing...

It would be nice to know if we should officially be bowing to the good doctor, though... ::bows to Jophry's greatness anyway::