W. A. Carrington

I like the idea of a writers choice topic, once a year would be fine. As for Ben's comment, even with the current way it is we could end up withthe worlds best comedy and the worlds best tragedy with the way it is set up, that depends on the writer and their style. I feel that an open topic would encourage more participation.

Oh, ok, how many enterants are needed for a second place? Case in point Nov-Dec 06 had just as many and it had a Runner up.

Congrats to the winner, nice story....on a related subject who came in second?

I am resubmitting this, due to finding several errors and thinking that the contest ended on the 9th, not realizing it had been extended, enjoy the less error filled edition, ..............without further ado enjoy: Confusion was his normal state, little did he know of his life before his capture, it was a haze, he did not even know his name only his number, test subject 3528. 3528 used to be free; he knew that, at least he dreamed he had been; now he was a captive a test subject in some unknown experiment. He was being moved yet again, he never stayed in any one place to long, his captors never revealed themselves to him, always behind the one way window, they said it might be for the last time. “We must prepare him, it is time to start weaning him off the drug, we cannot have any trace of it in him when they find him...” he overheard, that explained the confusion he was drugged, but how, it had to be in the food or the air, no it had to be the food, it was the only constant. “You idiot the translator is on, he might hear you!” “Relax the drug will make him forget.” They had relaxed and let something slip, this gave him hope, and he prayed he could remember to use it as he drifted off to sleep…. “Wake up 3528, time to eat, you must keep your strength.” 3528 stirred, his food was before him on the lone table in his room, he stayed in his room most of the day, but his captor allowed him to exercise an hour each day. At first he had not wanted to but, he was forced through electrical stimulation. He decided not to fight; it was better and provided the few moments of clarity in his long captivity. It was during one of these times that he figured out that he had not always been a captive; that he had been free at one time. Now was the another one of those instances, he remembered the food was drugged, he was caught in a dilemma, how long could he not eat before the drug wore off, he did not know. Not knowing and realizing that a clear mind might help him, he decided to reduce his intake of food perhaps that would help. He ate sparingly then threw his food on the floor. “3528, you are a savage. Why do you continue to test our hospitality?” The voice said. Savage, no I am Savich, his name, or at least part of it he remembered it! His memory also lifted his spirits, he tried to remember more but it was too fragmented, bits and pieces flashed in his mind, soon he had a massive headache and had to stop. He suspected the headache was the drug’s effect on his body, for soon after he stopped trying to remember the headache went away. This fueled his desire; he pushed to remember more, as the door to his cell opened and a maintenance robot entered to clean up the mess on the floor, returning the cell to its antiseptically clean condition. Days merged with each other as he struggled to remember, fragments of his former life becoming clearer. He knew three things now; his name Thomas Savich, that he was a Starfleet officer and that he had been betrayed. Other images flashed in his mind form time to time but he could not put the fragments together. “Up and about 3528, time to move you again. Put your arms forward.” He hated that they referred to him as a case number, but Thom put his arms forward and the shackles were put on him. He had done this countless times in the lost years that were his captivity. He was led to a large hangar bay, cut from the living rock that was this station, the shuttles were lined up in neat rows, and one stuck out like a sore thumb, obviously of different design, a Federation design, a type 9. The others were Tzenkethi! Now he new who his captors were! If only he new why, the charade what was their purpose, why did they need him alive and in good health? His questions were interrupted by the sudden sound of a claxon, and the scrambling of Tzenkethi all about, he could not understand their language but he knew this place was under attack. The small station was rocked with energy weapons fire and shook violently, a support column nearly crushed him, his escorts were not so lucky. Crushed by the fallen column they died almost instantly. Thom dove for cover in a small niche in the wall, pulling rubble around him to hide. He knew this was probably his one chance to get out of here; to go home! First he must find a way to remove the manacles that bound his hands. Briefly leaving the security of his hiding spot he searched his guards for a key. Not finding it on the first one, he searched the second and almost gave up hope when he found it. Freeing himself he retreated to his niche, and surveyed the situation. He decided to try to make it to the shuttles, his only hope of getting out of here, lay on the hangar bay. Stealing the hooded cloak of his captors as a disguise he inched his way to the Hangar Bay avoiding direct contact with everyone. His progress was halted be the sudden beam in of twelve figures. Savich dove for cover not wanting to be captured again. “Legh vad` ghah` d`ah,” Savich knew the language, it was Klingon, look for him the leader said. Who are they looking for, Savich held back and watched as the twelve Klingons break up into three four man teams and began searching. His hiding place was suddenly blown as four Tzenkethi entered into the hangar immediately behind. As he tried to make a break for it, when one of them grabbed the cloak disguising him and pulled it off. Shock appeared across the face of the large reptiles, then they lowered there rifles at him. Savich dove out of the way, as disruptor fire from some of the Klingons mowed down his attackers. In English the Klingon leader spoke: “Commander Savich, we have been sent to retrieve you, you have nothing to fear. An old friend has sent us to fetch you; it is a matter of honor he told us to tell you.” “Who sent you?” “K`Vas sent us, do you not know him?” K`Vas….the memories, almost blinding him as a reaction to his still drugged mind, but he knew that name at least once he did. “I knew a K`Vas once a long time ago.” “Good, than let me take you to him, you will be free Commander, and my guest. I am Durrat.” Still confused, Savich new one thing, if this was true then he would be free of the Tzenkethi. “Ok.” “Qapla’ ” The Durrat spoke into his communicator. “Over here commander.” Looking at the returning teams, “Any more prisoners?” “No, commander, and the station is secured, the charges have been set.” “Good it is time to leave this place.” At that the transporter beamed them on to the orbiting Klingon warship, dark and gloomy, “this way we have prepared some quarters for you.” Thom followed Durrat through the gloomy corridors of the Klingon ship. They entered the quarters set aside for him, small but functional. Another Klingon waited for them, he held a hypodermic needle in his hands. “What is this Durrat?” Durrat obviously angered at the Klingon, “H`Gat can this not wait.” H`Gat, “Unfortunately not, pardon me Commander Savich; let me explain, we know from intercepting the Tzenkethi communications that you have been drugged. So we must get a sample of your blood, one to ensure your safe being and two you will need it as evidence upon your return.” Durrat, “Relax Commander Savich, all will be explained in good time.” Angered “Oh, very well!” Thom rolled up his sleeve and extended his left arm. H`Gat worked quickly like a starving vampire he drew Thom’s blood into three vials. H`Gat, “There all done, this will help, Commander Savich I suggest you get some rest, you are going to need it.” With that the tall Klingon left. Durrat, “Yes Commander you need your rest, for soon you shall be tested.” With those ominous words still hanging in the air, Thom found himself alone in the small room. A test, what test, what would be required of him, what did these Klingons want with him. The questions flooded his mind and the effects of the drug kicked in, his head throbbed with pain as the neural synapse fired. Yes perhaps he should rest, he thought to himself and with that he laid down on the room’s shelf like bed. Thom slept hard his dreams were vivid memories that he had long forgotten, he woke spent and sweaty like he had a hard work out. Leaving his small room he was immediately greeted by what he took to be a guard. “Am I under arrest here too?” “No Ambass…I mean Commander Savich, I am your escort and aide while you are aboard the Emperor’s Hammer. I am merely here to aide you, that is all.” Curious he almost called me something else, Thom wondered but he put it aside, “Very well were can I get something to eat and drink I am famished? And what do I call you?” “I am Garras, Sub-Lieutenant Garras, Commander I will take you to the mess decks sir, we all eat together on Klingon ships sir.” “Ok, Garras, lead on.” Garras led Thom to the mess decks several warriors were eating, and cajoling when he entered which suddenly stopped as he entered. Thom felt all eyes on him. Thom remained sullen and ate his food quietly. He was almost finished when a warrior shouted. “I don’t care who he thinks he is he needs to be tested first….” With that the overweight warrior approached Thom. “So, this is the one who claims to be Thomas Savich, the one who was declared a defender of the empire by the Emperor, ptah.” Spittle hit Thom in the face; Thom noted that the Klingon’s hand hovered over his blade. Standing “Look I don’t want any trouble with you, all I wanted was something to eat.” Something was wrong, and he could sense it, the Klingons hand moved to closely to his knife tipping off his move. Reacting Thom grabbed the Klingon by his long hair and driving the Klingon’s head into the table he had just vacated, a resounding crunch was heard as the Klingon’s nose broke; the overweight Klingon fell to the floor in an unconscious mass. Spinning around, “Anyone else, how many more tests!” Garras, “Relax Commander, No one will harm you, K`Vas has ordered it.” The last bit was obviously for the others in the room as well. “Commander if you are up to it Ambassador K’Vas will see you when you are ready, he can explain everything.” Savich, “Let’s go see him then, get this test over with!” They left the mess hall and proceeded to another section of the huge Emperor’s Hammer. They entered a small ante-room, large double doors led to another room, emblazoned on the doors was the symbol of the Klingon Empire with crossed stylized war-hammers superimposed on it. Beyond must be K`Vas, always one for the dramatic he remembered. The doors opened slowly and silently this was it he thought his test, and if he knew the Klingon’s, and he did, it would determine if he lived or died. Savich entered the dark cold room; a single bright light lit a dais with a lone Klingon sitting atop it. Another light lit a single point in the large room, illuminating the same symbol that had been on the doors. Savich knew there were others in the room in the shadows out of sight, ready to pounce. Savich waited, the lone figure upon the dais turned around his brilliant blue eyes seemed to glow, “Come forward old friend, and let me see you with my old eyes.” Cautiously Savich strode forward; he stopped just short of the ring of light in the center. “I will go no further.” He announced, memories of K’Vas told him to stop. “Why, is that Commander? Afraid?” His hand rose, giving the Klingon warrior’s sign language to stop. “No, because the K’Vas I know will see me the same whether I am in the bright light or in the dark, for the K’Vas I know is blind!” A lone laughing cackle broke the darkness. The lights equalized bringing the room to normal illumination. Six Klingon warriors ringed the room each holding a bat`leh, a lone Klingon stood to one side of the dais along with a lone Starfleet Admiral, his service color was grey, intelligence. “Thomas Chandler Savich, good to hear you old friend it has been too long.” K’Vas walked forward confident as usual, “I need no help Admiral I know every inch of the Hammer.” Stepping firmly forward K’Vas extended his arm Thom grabbed it and they greeted each other in Klingon fashion grabbing each others arms. “It is good to finally be with you again friend, this is Admiral McKee with Starfleet Intelligence.” “Finally, why finally?” “Always the questions, eh friend very well you may as well hear it from me. Seven years ago while commanding a reconnaissance mission in Tzenkethi space you were captured and held, in the mean time a doppelganger, a Face Dancer has replaced you in the Federation. Upon your return you resigned from Starfleet and entered the diplomatic corps you are know, or your doppelganger is the Ambassador to Tzenkethi and about to introduce a new treaty with far reaching effects chief amongst them is the severance of diplomatic ties with the empire. One can only guess what would follow. It is a dark time and we must stop this before war breaks out neither of our governments can withstand another all out war.” “If I was replaced by this face dancer, why was I kept alive?” “Well, friend they needed you alive, for the face dancer to appear to be you, it needs regular samples of your DNA, fresh samples, the fresher the longer it can maintain your form. We suspect your ex First Officer, Leland Rush, is also a traitor, for you two, pardon the expression Thom, are inseparable, also soon after you returned you divorced Catherine, she has had a difficult time these last few years. It is unfortunate you destroyed the Winter Hawk.” Memories flashed through Thom’s mind, “That [...], Catherine my love….but, I didn’t destroy the Hawk, we used the engineering section for a life boat, and separated the saucer section I sent it on, what of the rest of my crew?.” “But, sir you are quoted as initiating the destruct sequence in the last log entry sent, only you and Rush survived.” The Admiral said, pulling a PADD up, “And I quote, Initiate Savich security breach protocol one. Destruct, destruct, destruct, send last log and this message to Starfleet.” Laughing his head hurt, but it was only a dull ache, “Yes, but that did not destroy the Winter Hawks saucer, only it sent it to a safe place. Only Rush and me, that [...], most of us survived, I know this know the memories are coming back.” “What! The saucer is safe we must get it where is it?” “Well only two people know that’s, me and K’Vas.” K’Vas, “Me? How no you wouldn’t….no you would.” Laughing out loud, “All these years we thought she was gone and she is right under our noses… Commander lay course for the Tong Beak Nebula maximum speed! Only you would put it there! Ha Admiral all is not lost with the computer core of the Winter Hawk we can blow this conspiracy wide open.” “Why, why there Ambass…I mean Commander?” Admiral McKee inquired. “Well, through my foggy memory, soon after we started the mission I realized it was compromised and not knowing who I could trust I sent it to where the only person I knew I could trust without a doubt.” “Why, how did you know that?” “K’Vas would never betray me, for I hold a debt of honor for him. K’Vas when this is over the debt is paid. I just hope Catherine can forgive me.” K’Vas, “Why not ask her yourself, Thom. I have had her in my care for several years.” “What …care what are you talking about K`Vas.” “It is best she explains it to you. Commander send in Catherine the final test must be passed.” Shocked speechless, final test sweat poured down his face what was this. A side door opened and Catherine entered gracefully her elbow length black hair glistened in the light, his heart skipped a beat his throat was dry as the first time he had met her so many years ago, her eyes though did not show any indication that she recognized him though. He stepped forward, “Cath….” He stopped dead as she raised a disruptor aiming it at him. “What is this, it’s me Thom…” “Stop, I know you look like him, you have one chance and only one chance to pass this test if you fail I will kill you...” Her words were cold and steely. “What is our word?” “Our word?” confused Thom was sweating the woman he loved, the woman he had forgotten and now remembered had a disruptor aimed at him. “OUR WORD!” She demanded. “Uhhh,” stopping Thom did not want to fail this, a word his head ached, his vision dimmed from the pain…..it had to be…. “Tw….Twitterpaited, that’s it Twitterpaited!” He fell to his knees, Catherine rushed in, dropping the gun, joining him on her knees, grasping his chin she pulled his face to hers and kissed him as tears rolled down both their cheeks, tears of joy, tears of redemption……

Please note some words in this post are made up, and while the Klingon in this pot is a real as I could find on the web it is not gramaically correct, for those that do speak it. I only put it here for the dramatics.

Confusion was his normal state, little did he know of his life before his capture, it was a haze, he did not even know his name only his number, test subject 3528. 3528 used to be free; he knew that, at least he dreamed he had been; now he was a captive a test subject in some unknown experiment. He was being moved yet again, he never stayed in any one place to long, his captors never revealed themselves to him, always behind the one way window, they said it might be for the last time. “We must prepare him, it is time start weaning him off the drug, we cannot have any trace of it in him when they find him...” he overheard, that explained the confusion he was drugged, but how, it had to be in the food or the air, no it had to be the food, it was the only constant. “You idiot the translator is on, he might hear you!” “Relax the drug will make him forget.” They had relaxed and let something slip, this gave him hope, and he prayed he could remember to use it as he drifted off to sleep…. “Wake up 3528, time to eat, you must keep your strength.” 3528 stirred, his food was before him on the lone table in his room, he stayed in his room most of the day,ut his captor allowed him to exercise an hour each day. At first he had not wanted to but, he was forced through electrical stimulation. He decided not to fight; it was better and provided the few moments of clarity in his long captivity. It was during one of these times that he figured out that he had not always been a captive; that he had been free at one time. Now was the another one of those instances, he remembered the food was drugged, he was caught in a dilemma, how long could he not eat before the drug wore off, he did not know. Not knowing and realizing that a clear mind might help him, he decided to reduce his intake of food perhaps that would help. He ate sparingly then threw his food on the floor. “3528, you are a savage. Why do you continue to test our hospitality?” The voice said. Savage, no I am Savich, his name, or at least part of it he remembered it! His memory also lifted his spirits, he tried to remember more but it was too fragmented, bits and pieces flashed in his mind, soon he had a massive headache and had to stop. He suspected the headache was the drug’s effect on his body, for soon after he stopped trying to remember the headache went away. This fueled his desire; he pushed to remember more, as the door to his cell opened and a maintenance robot entered to clean up the mess on the floor, returning the cell to its antiseptically clean condition. Days merged with each other as he struggled to remember, fragments of his former life becoming clearer. He knew three things now; his name Thomas Savich, that he was a Starfleet officer and that he had been betrayed. Other images flashed in his mind form time to time but he could not put the fragments together. “Up and about 3528, time to move you again. Put your arms forward.” He hated that they referred to him as a case number, but Thom put his arms forward and the shackles were put on him. He had done this countless times in the lost years that were his captivity. He was led to a large hangar bay, cut from the living rock that was this station, the shuttles were lined up in neat rows, and one stuck out like a sore thumb, obviously of different design, a Federation design, a type 9. The others were Tzenkethi! Now he new who his captors were! If only he new why, the charade what was their purpose, why did they need him alive and in good health? His questions were interrupted by the sudden sound of a claxon, and the scrambling of Tzenkethi all about, he could not understand their language but he knew this place was under attack. The small station was rocked with energy weapons fire and shook violently, a support column nearly crushed him, his escorts were not so lucky. Crushed by the fallen column they died almost instantly. Thom dove for cover of a small niche in the wall, pulling rubble around him to hide. He knew this was probably his one chance to get out of here; to go home! First he must find a way to remove the manacles that bound his hands. Briefly leaving the security of his hiding spot he searched his guards for a key. Not finding it on the first one, he searched the second and almost gave up hope when he found it. Freeing himself he retreated to his niche, and surveyed the situation. He decided to try to make it to the shuttles, his only hope of getting out of here, lied on the hangar bay. Stealing the hooded cloak of his captors as a disguise he inched his way to the Hangar Bay avoiding direct attempting contact with everyone. His progress was halted be the sudden beam in of twelve figures. Savich dove for cover not wanting to be captured again. “Legh vad` ghah` d`ah,” Savich knew the language, it was Klingon, look for him the leader said. Who are they looking for, Savich held back and watched the twelve klingons break up into three four man teams and began searching. His hiding place was suddenly blown as four Tzenkethi entered into the hangar immediately behind. As he tried to make a break for it one of them grabbed the cloak disguising him and pulled it off. Shock appeared across the face of the large reptiles, then they lowered there rifles at him. Savich dove out of the way, as disruptor fire from some of the klingons mowed down his attackers. In English the Klingon leader spoke: “Commander Savich, we have been sent to retrieve you, you have nothing to fear. An old friend has sent us to fetch you; it is a matter of honor he told us to tell you.” “Who sent you?” “K`Vas sent us, do you not know him?” K`Vas….the memories, almost blinding him as a reaction to his still drugged mind, but he knew that name at least once he did. “I knew a K`Vas once a long time ago.” “Good, than let me take you to him, you will be free Commander, and my guest. I am Durrat.” Still confused, Savich new one thing, if this was true then he would be free of the Tzenkethi. “Ok.” “Qapla’ ” The Durrat spoke into his communicator. “Over here commander.” Looking at the returning teams, “Any more prisoners?” “No, commander, and the station is secured, the charges have been set.” “Good it is time to leave this place.” At that the transporter beamed them on to the orbiting Klingon warship, dark and gloomy, “this way we have prepared some quarters for you.” Thom followed Durrat through the gloomy corridors of the Klingon ship. They entered the quarters set aside for him, small but functional. Another klingon waited for them, he held a hypodermic needle in his hands. “What is this Durrat?” Durrat obviously angered at the klingon, “H`Gat can this not wait.” H`Gat, “Unfortunately not, pardon me Commander Savich; let me explain, we know from intercepting the Tzenkethi communications that you have been drugged. So we must get a sample of your blood, one to ensure your safe being and two you will need it as evidence upon your return.” Durrat, “Relax Commander Savich, all will be explained in good time.” Angered “Oh, very well!” Thom rolled up his sleeve and extended his left arm. H`Gat worked quickly like a starving vampire he drew Thom’s blood into three vials. H`Gat, “There all done, this will help, Commander Savich I suggest you get some rest, you are going to need it.” With that the tall klingon left. Durrat, “Yes Commander you need your rest, for soon you shall be tested.” With those ominous words still hanging in the air Thom found himself alone in the small room. A test, what test, what would be required of him, what did these klingons want with him. The questions flooded his mind and the effects of the drug kicked in, his head throbbed with pain as the neural synapse fired. Yes perhaps he should rest, he thought to himself and with that he laid down on the room’s shelf like bed. Thom slept hard his dreams were vivid memories that he had long forgotten, he woke spent and sweaty like he had a hard work out. Leaving his small room he was immediately greeted by what he took to be a guard. “Am I under arrest here too?” “No Ambass…I mean Commander Savich, I am your escort and aide while you are aboard the Emperor’s Hammer. I am merely here to aide you that is all.” Curious he almost called me something else, Thom wondered but he put it aside, “Very well were can I get something to eat and drink I am famished? And what do I call you?” “I am Garras, Sub-Lieutenant Garras, Commander I will take you to the mess decks sir, we all eat together on klingon ships sir.” “Ok, Garras, lead on.” Garras led Thom to the mess decks several warriors were eating, and cajoling when he entered which suddenly stopped as he entered. Thom felt all eyes on him. Thom remained sullen and at his food quietly. He was almost finished when a warrior shouted. “I don’t care who he thinks he is he needs to be tested first….” With that the overweight warrior approached Thom. “So, this is the one who claims to be Thomas Savich, the one who was declared a defender of the empire by the Emperor, ptah.” Spittle hit Thom in the face; Thom noted that the klingon’s hand hovered over his blade. Standing “Look I don’t want any trouble with you, all I wanted was something to eat.” Something was wrong, and he could sense it, the klingons hand moved to closely to his knife tipping off his move. Reacting Thom grabbed the klingon by his long hair and driving the klingon’s head into the table he had just vacated, a resounding crunch was heard as the klingon’s nose broke; the overweight klingon fell to the floor in an unconscious mass. Spinning around, “Anyone else, how many more tests!” Garras, “Relax Commander, No one will harm you, K`Vas has ordered it.” The last bit was obviously for the others in the room as well. “Commander if you are up to it Ambassador K’Vas will see you when you are ready, he can explain everything.” Savich, “Lets go see him then get this test over with!” They left the mess hall and proceeded to another section of the huge Emperor’s Hammer. They entered a small ante-room, large double doors led to another room, emblazoned on the doors was the symbol of the Klingon Empire with crossed stylized war-hammers superimposed on it. Beyond must be K`Vas, always one for the dramatic he remembered. The doors opened slowly and silently this was it he thought his test, and if he knew the klingon’s, and he did, it would determine if he lived or died. Savich entered the dark cold room; a single bright light lit a dais with a lone Klingon sitting atop it. Another light lit a single point in the large room, illuminating the same symbol that had been on the doors. Savich knew there were others in the room in the shadows out of sight, ready to pounce. Savich waited, the lone figure upon the dais turned around his brilliant blue eyes seemed to glow, “Come forward old friend, and let me see you with my old eyes.” Cautiously Savich strode forward; he stopped just short of the ring of light in the center. “I will go no further.” He announced, memories of K’Vas told him to stop. “Why, is that Commander? Afraid?” His hand raised, giving the klingon warrior’s sign language to stop. “No, because the K’Vas I know will see me the same whether I am in the bright light or in the dark, for the K’Vas I know is blind!” a lone laughing cackle broke the darkness. The lights equalized bringing the room to normal illumination. Six Klingon warriors ringed the room each holding a bat`leh, a lone Klingon stood to one side of the dais along with a lone Starfleet Admiral, his service color was grey, intelligence. “Thomas Chandler Savich, good to hear you old friend it has been too long.” K’Vas walked forward confident as usual, “I need no help Admiral I know every inch of the Hammer.” Stepping firmly forward K’Vas extended his arm Thom grabbed it and they greeted each other in Klingon fashion grabbing each others arms. “It is good to finally be with you again friend, this is Admiral McKee with Starfleet Intelligence.” “Finally, why finally?” “Always the questions, eh friend very well you may as well hear it from me. Seven years ago while commanding a reconnaissance mission in Tzenkethi space you were capture and held, in the mean time a doppelganger, a face dancer has replaced you in the federation. Upon your return you resigned from Starfleet and entered the diplomatic corps you are know, or your doppelganger is the Ambassador to Tzenkethi and about to introduce a new treaty with far reaching effects chief amongst them is the severance of diplomatic ties with the empire. One can only guess what would follow. It is a dark time and we must stop this before war breaks out neither of our governments can withstand another all out war.” “If I was replaced by this face dancer, why was I kept alive?” “Well, friend they needed you alive, for see for the face dancer to appear to be you it needs regular samples of your DNA, fresh samples the fresher the longer it can maintain your form. We suspect the your ex First Officer, Leland Rush, is also a traitor for you two, pardon the expression Thom, are inseparable, also soon after you returned you divorced Catherine, she has had a difficult time these last few years. It is unfortunate you destroyed the Winter Hawk.” Memories flashed through Thom’s mind, “That [...], Catherine my love….but, I didn’t destroy the Hawk, we used the engineering section for a life boat, and separated the saucer section I sent it on, what of the rest of my crew?.” “But, sir you are quoted as initiating the destruct sequence in the last log entry sent, only you and Rush survived.” The Admiral said, pulling a PADD up, “And I quote, Initiate Savich security breach protocol one. Destruct, destruct, destruct, send last log and this message to Starfleet.” Laughing his head hurt, but it was only a dull ache, “Yes, but that did not destroy the Winter Hawks saucer, only it sent it to a safe place. Only Rush and me, that [...], most of us survived, I know this know the memories are coming back.” “What! The saucer is safe we must get it where is it?” “Well only two people know that’s, me and K’Vas.” K’Vas, “Me? How no you wouldn’t….no you would.” Laughing out loud, “All these years we thought she was gone and she is right under our noses… Commander lay course for the Tong Beak Nebula maximum speed! Only you would put it there! Ha Admiral all is not lost with the computer core of the Winter Hawk we can blow this conspiracy wide open.” “Why, why there Ambass…I mean Commander?” Admiral McKee inquired. “Well, through my foggy memory, soon after we started the mission I realized it was compromised and not knowing who I could trust I sent it to where the only person I knew I could trust without a doubt.” “Why, how did you know that?” “K’Vas would never betray me, for I hold a debt of honor for him. K’Vas when this is over the debt is paid. I just hope Catherine can forgive me.” K’Vas, “Why not ask her yourself, Thom. I have had her in my care for several years.” “What …care what are you talking about K`Vas.” “It is best she explains it to you. Commander send in Catherine the final test must be passed.” Shocked speechless, final test sweat poured down his face what was this. A side door opened and Catherine entered gracefully her elbow length black hair glistened in the light, his heart skipped a beat his throat was dry as the first time he had met her so many years ago, her eyes though did not show any indication that she recognized him though. He stepped forward, “Cath….” He stopped dead as she raised a disruptor aiming it at him. “What is this, its me Thom…” “Stop, I know you look like him, you have one chance and only one chance to pass this test if you fail I will kill you...” Her words were cold and steely. “What is our word?” “Our word?” confused Thom was sweating the woman he loved, the woman he had forgotten and now remembered had a disruptor aimed at him. “OUR WORD!” She demanded. “uhhh,” stopping Thom did not want to fail this, a word his head ached, his vision dimmed from the pain…..it had to be…. “Tw….Twitterpaited, that’s it Twitterpaited!” He fell to his knees, Catherine rushed in, dropping the gun, joining him on her knees, grasping his chin she pulled his face to hers and kissed him as tears rolled down both their cheeks, tears of joy, tears of redemption……

Being a judge in the last contest and having to judge the entries I too have to juggle RL but found time to submit my feedback as directed for further transmittal to the respective authors. Its unfortunate that you all had to wait this long. For this I am truly sorry.

I agree, atleast with judges you have some quality control over the voting, and a means to address any concerns...but as for the lack of feedback, how about judges submitting their reveiws directly to a forum on theese boards that way they would be posted faster instead of the current method and provide a means of a little peer presure for those that tend to be late......

Tears should be a good one, and once again congratulations to all the winners of the last writing challenge Toni, Nemitor and Hawk great job all of you.

Congradulation to Toni, Hawk and Nemitor great job all of you....

Thanks all agian, Toni looks like dem fingurs struk again...lol

thank you, for the compliments.

So what she's saying is that she is late, I'm just delayed, congrats...

Good catch, but I would expect nothing else from a vulcan.

There edited down to just 2998 words, sorry for being so long winded.

((USS Hunley, Ceremonial Quarterdeck)) ((Stardate 238105.01 1400 hours)) Crewman 2nd class Trevor Olsen entered, he was the last to arrive, he was the accused, escorted by two security crewman. In the center stood a podium behind it the ships captain, to his right the First Officer, to his left the Ship’s legal officer, Ship’s Councilor, and a yeoman to make an official record of the proceedings. He marched in dressed in his best dress uniform, as was everyone else, for this was a formal ceremony, not a medal presentation or citation for bravery, no this was a legal preceding, this was Captain’s Mast. Not as formal as a Courts Martial, it was a step down for minor infractions and used solely on enlisted members, Officers where held to even higher standards. “Quiet in the vicinity of the Quarterdeck while Captain’s Mast is being conducted”, blared over the ships announcing system. Now everyone knew he was at Mast, it seemed to the young crewman just twenty-one years old. “Crewman Second Class Olsen front and center!” The Captain barked, Captain Jones, a tall Terran of African decent, skin so dark it was almost blue and a voice that was low and full of bass orders boomed from his mouth when he raised his voice, but he was most intimidating when he didn’t raise his voice he had a look that would stop you in your tracks, Olsen receiving that look now. Olsen shakily steps forward, he found his step to be heavy as if his shoes where filled with concrete. Saluting he reported: “C…Crewman S..Second Class Trevor Archibald Olsen, re…reporting as ordered, Sir.” His voice cracking, as he fought with all his will not to break down, under the weight of his emotions. “Commander T’Kel read the accused his charges.” The captain ordered softly, but the words thundered through Olsen’s head…ACCUSED. The Vulcan Legal Officer began: “On stardate 238104.15 Crewman Olsen is charged with willfully disobeying the Commanding Officers Verbal Orders by entering an off limits gambling establishment while the USS Hunley was visiting Kenga V, in addition he is charged with disorderly conduct, assault on a civilian, assault on security personnel, and disrespect to a commissioned Starfleet officer. On stardate 238104.16 he is charged with reporting to duty while intoxicated, missing assigned detail, missing assigned watch, disrespect to a senior non-commissioned officer, and conduct unbecoming a member of Starfleet.” Olsen lowered his head in shame, suddenly the First Officer Tomlinson, was in his face, his nose just a mere centimeter from his. “YOU, are to be at attention, CREWMAN!” He barked, and just as quickly returned to is spot next to the Captain. Olsen regained his composure and returned to attention. The captain began and questioned all the witnesses, first those that where against him and they recounted the events of the charges there where at least two people per charge sometimes more, then those on his behalf, only one a fellow crewman. Next came the charter witnesses, members in his department making statements on his character as a member of Starfleet. Finally it wound down, everyone who had something to say had said it. “Before I pass judgment, crewman do you have any thing to say for yourself and your conduct?” The captain inquired. “I..I’m sorry for the disgrace and damage my actions caused, I have disgraced my…myself, the Hunley, and my shipmates, Sir.” Out of the corner of his eye he saw Chief Hansen, his division chief, give him a half smile, a quiet good job keep it simple he had warned him earlier. “Hmmph.” Captain Jones closed is eyes in contemplation, slowly he opened them his voice was low and rumbled through Olsen. “Crewman the charge of assaulting a civilian are dropped. As for the other charges; on all charges, except for the charge of assaulting a security crewman, I find you guilty and reward you with the following, reduction in rate to crewman third class, forfeiture of one-half months pay for two months, restriction to the ship for 30 days with 30 days of extra duty. On the remaining assault charge I find you guilty and reward you with 10 days confinement in the ships brig. Administratively I am removing my recommendation for promotion, retention and reenlistment, you have till the end of your current enlistment to change my mind on this crewman. This Captain’s Mast is now closed, guards escort Crewman Olsen to the Brig.” It was done, his eyes watered, as he was escorted down to the brig, the guard yelling: “Gang way prisoner coming through.” Everyone flattened themselves against bulkheads or halted in cross passages giving way to the trio, giving a wide berth almost as if they feared catching whatever he had. ((Brig USS Hunley)) ((Stardate 238105.01 1600 hours)) His brig cell was small consisting of a single bunk, toilet and fold down table, there was no privacy, just three bulkheads and a confinement force field for a door and fourth bulkhead. On the bunk was a change of uniform, already reflecting his rewarded new rank. Reward, odd choice of words, but he knew he had been rewarded for his merits or lack there of. The ten days in the brig, dragged on he was directed in exercise, allowed to shower. He was visited everyday by Chief Hansen to check how he was doing. The Ship’s Counselor visited him several times also. It was during this time he did a lot of self-inspection, trying to figure where he had gone wrong. During this time that he talked with Chief Hansen about what he could do, chief suggested to Olsen that he get a mentor, someone that could help him and guide him, also to give him a swift kick in the backside when necessary, Olsen liked the idea. Restriction required that he check in with security 4 times a day, regardless, unless the ship was in red-alert then immediately after the alert secured. Failure to comply would be a violation of the CO’s restriction orders. Olsen ensured he set an alarm fifteen minutes early so he could check in on time. His last muster of the first day he was greeted by Tactical Senior Chief Petty Officer Maxwell Bennington, a grizzly of a man, who stood a full 15 centimeters taller than him. “Your, late Olsen.” Bennington quipped. “I got here just in time, Senior Chief.” Olsen quipped. “Rule, number one: if your not ten minutes early to your appointments your late.” Bennington barked his voice horse and gravelly. “Olsen, your chief told me you wanted a mentor, so if you can keep up with me I will volunteer my services. For now we need to get your extra duty out of the way, so I have some work that needs to be done in my division, you up for this?” “Yeah, Senior Chief.” Olsen regretted his use of slang the minute it left his lips. “Yeah?!, Don’t you mean ‘Yes, senior chief. Bennington’s rule number two speak properly when addressing your superiors, it show respect, don’t use slang they may think you’re an idiot, understand?” “Yes, Senior Chief.” Olsen quickly corrected. “Call me Senior. Lets get out of here these security apes drive me nuts.” They walked the passages of the Hunley, they quickly arrived at the forward torpedo control complex. Inside, it was darkened as personnel in tactical manned tactical repeaters keeping track of the ships tactical situation. “Welcome the forward torp. This is Petty Officer Jenkins; he will show you what you need to do. Jenkins this is Olsen from auxiliaries.” Olsen was tasked with assisting in the renovation of a space. When the two hours where up, Senior Bennington told him to get some sleep, they where going to be up early. He drifted off to sleep wondering what had he gotten into…… 0430 was early even on a starship; Olsen was woken up by Bennington and told to get in PT gear. He quickly dressed and followed Bennington to the gym, the workout was fairly intense, and Bennington recorded every exercise asking him to judge how he did. After an hour they where done, Senior Bennington gave him his log, and some dietary recommendations, explaining that too truly change he would need to redo his foundation, and that started with nutrition and exercise. Olsen absorbed everything intrigued with the infectious attitude of the older man. Each hour of the day occupied Olsen found that his thirty days of restriction and extra duty went by quickly, he also noted that he was getting in better shape and had bounds more energy. Professionally his dedication carried over, it was if he was a new person, eager to learn again and he took to each job eagerly. He attacked each assignment with a new vigor and commitment to excellence his superiors noted this and rewarded him with greater responsibilities. Though the stigma of the mast still affected him, he had intended to make Starfleet a career, but without a recommendation his tour and career was quickly coming to an end or so he thought…. ((USS Hunley Stardate 238210.15)) Olsen went about his rounds, checking the tractor beam equipment. The Hunley had responded to a distress call from a wounded cargo vessel and was towing it and its vital cargo to its destination. He went about adjusting circuits to maintain the tractor at peak efficiency, a job normally assigned to someone more senior than him . But despite all he had accomplished his fate in Starfleet rested in the hands of the ship’s captain, Captain Jones. Suddenly, his self reflection was interrupted by the undeniable sound of red alert. The ship went into high gear; Olsen secured his work, and took off at a quick pace to his assigned station, forward weapons deck. He moved forward along the port passage ways as crewmembers who had to move aft used the starboard passages. Olsen quickly reported to the repair locker he was assigned to and began dressing out in an engineering EVA suit. The entire ship shuddered for weapons fire, lights flickered off, and emergency lighting came on. It was time for him to do his job; Olsen was lead investigator, there were two investigating teams each composed of three men each, with one of them assigned to lead. The investigators had the dangerous job of finding the damage, reporting, beginning initial repairs and rescues. Olsen looked at the other team, fear and determination mixed in there faces. “You guys start with the after section and work forward. We will work forward to aft, report to the locker every 5 minutes, watch your air.” It felt kind of funny, everyone on the team outranked him, but they took his orders. His team moved quickly using portable scanners and tools to find the damage, soon they could see the damage as bulkheads had warped and deformed. Clearing each compartment of survivors they moved forward, finally arriving at the impact sight… Forward Torpedo was a mess, Olsen judged that the weapons had hit here. The door was jammed shut. Indication from the outside of the compartment was that it was decompressing and that was not good. “Baker report to the locker that we have decompression in the forward torpedo room and we are beginning entry to assess the damage.” Baker had to take the message himself due to communications being down in this section. “Report back here ASAP.” The second class petty officer took off as quickly as one could in an EVA suit. Olsen and the remaining investigator started the difficult task of securing the area and preparing to enter a decompressing compartment. They set up portable force fields to limit the decompression of the ship. Next they started worked on the Torpedo compartments heavily armored door. They forced open the door with the hydraulic spreader and entered the dark and damaged maze of the torpedo room. Crewman where strewn about broken and injured, amazingly though none where dead, yet. “Get the injured tagged with transporter tags.” Olsen and Prichard went about quickly tagging each person. “OK let’s isolate the systems and get some power to at least one of the control panels.” They worked quickly isolating the environmental controls in this section from the rest of the systems restored some functionality, more importantly they had restored communications. “Repair 1 Fox this is investigation team one, we are in compartment 03230, Forward Torpedo initiating Site to Site of six tagged injured personnel to medical, now.” Olsen did not even know that Petty Officer Jenkins and Senior Bennington where among those he transported as he initiated the transport. “Prichard lets shore up the bulkheads.” They started the process of carefully removing the damage, and shoring up the overhead and bulkheads. Suddenly they stopped dead in their tracks; a warhead had holed the hull and the port torpedo launcher, with a torpedo in the tube, both unexploded. Very dangerous either could kill them and seriously damage the Hunley. Olsen quickly reported what they found. The ship shook from another attack, communication with the repair locker was lost. He switched to the tactical station on the bridge. The frantic tactical officer informed him that the torpedo in the tube had been launched and was counting down thinking it was in flight. It would detonate soon, destroying the forward section of the ship unless it was freed. If it was freed it could cause the other warhead to detonate with the same result. “Sir, I could beam them both out at the same time, I just need transporter controls routed to here, this panel is still functional.” Olsen heard Captain Jones growl to give him control now! Olsen tossed two transporter tags to Prichard, “Get one on each of them!” Olsen took control of the system along with a tactical repeater, he noted that they were under attack by two ships one of which had no shields and was heading straight for them. Ram us he thought, he locked onto the strongest energy source from the attacking ship and transported the deadly cargo to the attacking ship. Prichard fell due to the sudden loss of pressure and slid toward the hole. Olsen dove to help his fallen shipmate, jagged edges played havoc on EVA suits. Prichard was helpless as the ship banked hard in combat. Olsen reached Prichard just before the gapping hole, Prichard had a large gash in his suit and was fading fast, Olsen felt something sharp hit his side. He grabbed Prichard with all his strength and activated the suits emergency beam out. He passed out. Olsen woke he ached from decompression, most of his body bruised and beaten. He heard someone say, “Tell him he’s awake.” Still struggling to focus a large dark shadow crossed the bed he rested in, “How are you, son.” The Captain’s voice resonated a true concern for him. “I’ve felt better sir, but I guess I’ll make it, what about Prichard and the others, sir?” “They are all fine, resting some have even returned to duty. You saved a lot of people today.” Captain Jones looked at the head of the medical bed, frowned calling the medical officer over, “Doctor, I want you to take good care of Crewman Olsen, and the next time I visit him you had better get his rank correct. He is a Petty Officer Second Class, not a third class. You listen to the doctor, son, I’ll stop by later as for now I believe the good doctor has ordered you to rest and recover.” Olsen was shocked, had he heard right, Petty Officer Second? Was he dreaming? Olsen thought so and drifted back to sleep. He stayed in medical for a few days, visited by several, and the Captain kept his word and visited again and everyday. The day he was discharged he noted everyone was in there dress uniforms, a doctor told him that the crew was mustering in the shuttle bay in sixty minutes he had better hurry. Olsen went to his division office, Chief Hansen, shocked told him to hurry and get changed. He trudged off to his berthing; his uniform was once again laid out for him, with a note from the captain, simple and to the point, “Congrats on Second!” He quickly dressed ensuring everything was in order and returned Chief Hansen congratulated him on his new rank and they walked together to the shuttle bay, the entire crew was there. Olsen noted that sometime during his covalences the ship had docked at a repair station. “Olsen get up front with the XO, you’re not going to be standing with the division today.” Shocked Olsen went up front, in front of the entire crew. This was where awardees went during these quarters. The XO spotted him, “Olsen, good you made it! You stand here.” Nervously Olsen walked to the spot indicated; this was the spot of the first award. The first award was always the highest, Olsen swallowed hard and was poked in the back. Turning around he was greeted by Senior Chief Bennington. “Relax Trevor, you deserve this. Enjoy it.” “Crew, attention to quarters.” The second officer started to read the first award “For conspicuous gallantry above .....The rest was a blur. The Admiral pinned first one medal, the Starfleet Medal of Valor on him then another, the Grankite Order of Tactics. Captain Jones leaned forward, “Olsen, don’t worry about your re-enlistment, though you might considered applying to the academy again, they might be interested in you now.” After the ceremony he went to a reception hosted by the admiral. Senior Bennington strode up to him “Heard the captain say, you should consider applying for the academy again, I think he is right.” “Senior, I been thinking on that and I think I will.” Olsen replied. Smiling, “The engineering school is tough you know.” Bennington quipped. “Engineering? No I think I’ll shoot for Tactical.” Laughing Bennington. “Tactical god help us all.” They both laughed loudly.

Thanks

As earlier discussed, could someone be so kind as to start a thread for my for my entry. I have completed my little story, edited and ensured it met the word count...That was the hard part, had to edit out a few thousand words, a still keep the general idea straight. Oh, title for the thread would be Revolution on the Hunley a personal account... Thanks in advance... Tom aka...

Good maybe the ships can do a joint sim, and yes heard from him yesterday, just trying to work me into the plot.

Congrats to all my fellow students, RO and Max. I look forward to hearing form you in the future. Additionally thank you for al your help goes out to my two instructors, Commander Turner and Lieutenant Dickens thank you so much. And with that I will anxiously await confirmation from the Big Bear himslef, Ursa Major's CO. Best wishes,

Thank you, will do

I have a question, being new to the group and not having enough posts to start a new thread how would I submit an entry, since the instructions say to start a new thread in the writing challenge forum? confused, but not dazed