Alleran Tan

IC Riley: =/\=Negative on leaving the ship Lieutenant, I don't want anyone out there with those distortions until we determine what they are.=/\= Townson: =/\= But....Captain?=/\= Riley: =/\=You and Kobylarz suit up and look for wounded in or near the hangar bay=/\= Townson: =/\= Understood. Townson out. =/\= ::Tracey looked towards the Chief Tactical Officer, who had also heard the message from the Captain, and shugged. The two then headed to a nearby storage unit and removed two EV suits and put them on. Tracey tested her com setup with Lieutenant Kobylarz then they headed back to the sealed door. Through her helmet, Tracey spoke.:: Townson: =/\= Any ideas as to how to open this door Lieutenant? Kobylarz: =/\= We could always just manually open the door. Pry it open. =/\= Townson: =/\= Good thinking Lieutenant. =/\= ::The two got to work and within a few minutes the doors parted open and a rush of the air within the corridors was being sucked into the hangar bay. If Tracey and Lieutenant Kobylarz were not holding onto the edges of the doorway, they too would have been sucked into the hangar bay, and possibly into deep space, through the gaping hole in the hull which stared them in the face.:: ::Without warning, through the corner of her eye, Tracey noticed a human in normal StarFleet attire fly by and round the corner into the hangar bay. It was a human male. Tracey flung her right hand out and grabbed the ankle of the man as she held onto the doorway with her left. But the body of the man was flailing and Tracey was losing her grip on the doorway. The gloves of the EV suit were not designed to stick to anything. So, within a few seconds, Tracey lost her grip.:: ::While sliding along the hangar bay floor, still firmly holding onto the ankle of the officer, and heading for deep space, Tracey looked desperately for something else to grip onto between her spot and the hull breach. With her free left hand, she reached out to a nearby shuttlecraft and this slowed their progress. But it didn't stop it. Her gloved left hand was sliding across the hull of the shuttlecraft.:: ::Meanwhile, Tracey could feel that the flesh of the man, under his pants, was becoming firm, much like an icicle. Tracey looked up, for the first time, at the now blue, frozen face of the man and not only noticed the frozen look of surprise on it, but she also recognized the face.:: ::With her com unit still on, Tracey screamed the word...:: Townson: =/\= NO!!!! =/\= Kobylarz: =/\= Townson! respond you ok your suit ripped talk to me=/\= Townson: =/\= ITS SEARGENT MAHLOR! I CAN'T LET HIM DIE AGAIN! =/\= ::Tracey's worst nightmare was happening in front of her eyes. She made a terrible mistake by not scanning the corridors before opening the hangar bay doors. And once again, by acting without thinking, Tracey was once again going to be responsible for the death of Gary Mahlor. The same way she felt responsible for Seargent Gary Mahlor's death from her universe of origin, once again Tracey, due to her lack of foresight, would be responsible for the death of Ensign Gary Mahlor in this universe.:: Kobylarz: =/\= Again? you sure you don't have a rip in your suit are you losing O2? =/\= ::As she slid along the side of the shulttlecraft, to her horror, Tracey could now feel her grip on Ensign Mahlor's frozen body now loosening, as the pressure of the air blowing in from the corridor began to wane. Tracey was hoping she bought enough time to keep the man from being lost into deep space. But the hull of the shuttlecraft was only so large and Tracey had passed it. She was now, once again sliding quicker towards the breach with the frozen body of Ensign Mahlor leading the way.:: ::Even though, in the part of her brain which was still processing reasonable thoughts, was telling her that Ensign Mahlor was more than likely dead by this time, Tracey still felt a strong drive to try her best to keep him onboard this ship. By this point, the body Tracey was holding onto was no longer flexible, but more like a block of ice. And with her free left hand, Tracey grabbed another part of the same ankle. But even with both gloved hands on the ankle, Tracey was still losing her grip. So Tracey, with her left hand on top of the right, yanked off her own right glove and quickly gripped the Ensign's ankle with her bare hand.:: ::Focused primarily on her grip, Tracey could see the blood vessels bursting and her hand turning blue. At close to zero degrees Kelvin, the first 2 or 3 seconds the pain was unbearable, but afterwards she had lost all feeling in her hand, as well as control. For her hand was now frozen to Ensign Mahlor's ankle.:: ::Tracey looked up at the gaping hole into deep space, which was inches now away and she saw a few other bodies floating in space. And Tracey realized that she was headed out there too.:: Oo I'm not going to let you go alone this time Gary oO ::Tracey closed her eyes and waited for the inevitale. And then she heard a huge crash as her arms were yanked down by the force of gravity, and her progress stopped. Tracey opened her eyes to that of the shimmering hue of the force-field and she then looked down at the shattered body of that which was once Ensign Mahlor, while still gripping the ankle of the man.:: ::In anger and frustration and sadness, Tracey flung herself down and landed on her own frosen hand. Much like that of Ensign Mahlor, her hand shattered into a million pieces as tears of anger and sadness welled up in her eyes.:: Riley: =/\=Riley to Lieutenant Townson.=/\= ::Tracey sat up and crossed her legs in front of herself, as she tried to get a grip on herself. She tried to remember where and when she was as she rocked back and forth trying to comfort herself.:: Oo You are a StarFleet Officer. You have sent thousands to their death in your career fighting the Dominion. This is no different. oO ::Tracey repeated the words in her head over and over. But this was different. This was not a war. This was a meaningless, avoidable death.:: Townson: =/\=T..Townson here. J...just to let you know, C...Captain. The f...force-fields are reengaged.=/\= ::with sadness in her voice.:: Riley: =/\=Lieutenant, I want you to immediately implement your former plan. You and Kobylarz are going to scout and lead the ship through this mess.=/\= ::Looking down at the stump where her right hand used to be, and which was now beginning to melt, as drops of blood began to appear, and then to the now melting pieces of Ensign Mahlor.:: Townson: =/\=Yes Captain. Townson out.=/\= ::Instinctively she reached for her belt, as the pain where her hand used to be got worse. But she quickly realized that in this universe, the belts were not equipped with pain-killing medication that could be released directly into the body.:: -TBC- Lt. Tracey Townson Chief of Operations USS Independence-A

There's usually a bunch of last minute entries. Good turnout this time though!

Woo hoo- welcome to the fleet, congrats on graduating!

I don't know if you could or not! *sobs* I don't know, okay?! :'( Hehe. Okay. When the tags are filled out, I'll post a new version in this thread.

((USS Victory, Deck 9, Katy's Office)) ::It had been the toughest meeting of her Starfleet career so far; she'd had to say things that she hated hearing come out of her mouth. She had not dared hope for the level of support she'd received from both men, and it was making her a little emotional. She did her best to stay in the moment, the better to ensure that she held together through the remainder of the meeting.:: Orman: Questions, gentlemen? Rais: Only one. Are the Romulans going to be solely confined to Deck 9? Moving the armoury should be easy- I can get offduty helmsmen, along with at least a couple of Operations officers to help with that- it's just grunt work. Heck, some of them could use a little exercise. Orman: ::steepling her hands in front of her as she leaned back in her chair:: I am going to recommend that they be confined to 9, plus the cargo bays. I might be overriden, but that's the plan. I think it's safest for all that way. Shepard: As soon as you make assignments of crew quarters, I can begin the move out of Deck 9. In the mean time I can help move security. Rais: And... what about our failsafe, ma'am? If there is a large scale riot? I was thinking... I was thinking of an anesthetic gas. Problem is... if we have sick, injured, elderly- it'll probably kill them. But the same dose... well, a healthy young adult female or male will probably be able to still function. Alternatively, we can crank up the gravity- to much the same result, unfortunately... forcefields work well, but if there's a stampede they'll just get crushed... ::He shut his eyes. Katy noted with approval that he seemed very unhappy with the means he was suggesting, but was willing to offer them up anyway.:: Orman: Let's consult with Medical on the gas idea. ::she stared into the air near one of the top corners of the office for a moment, considering.:: Perhaps they can come up with a breathable sedative that would be broadly safe but effective.... ::looking back down at Radi:: My, preference, though, is to use a low dosage released if things get heated; dosed not to disable but to make them sleepy, sluggish. A riot can flare very strongly, but it needs fuel to keep it burning, and if we pinch the fuel hose, so to speak, I'm thinking it should burn out quickly as well, before it gets too much inertia. :: Radi nodded. :: Rais: And... as long as we're not at warp there's also the option of selectively venting parts of the deck to space. Decompression renders a typical humanoid unconscious in thirty seconds to a minute, and brain damage sets in at five... we have six transporter pads, six seconds per site-to-site transport, that's one per second... a max of one hundred and eighty people in three minutes, with a minute to spare. Not a bad idea as long as there's not too many... ::Anger flashed in Katy's eyes for a moment, but she reminded herself of the situation and that Rais was trying to help and it faded.:: Orman: The normal mammalian response when faced with sudden lack of oxygen is to try to hold their breath. Trying to hold your breath in a vacuum causes severe lung trauma. ::she shook her head:: No. Not unless there is absolutely no other way. ::Her eyes once again stared into the corner as she pondered.:: Orman: Again, we'll have to check with Medical on this, to find out Romulan hearing range and volume tolerance, but loud noise can be an excellent weapon of deterrence; one that won't cause any dangerous injury. Some might sustain injury to their eardrums, but we can treat that with no permanent effects. ::she shrugged, a little bitterly:: We've got all these speakers everywhere so the ship's computer can talk to us, we might as well use them. Rais: There's also provisioning for up to a thousand extra crewmen. Space will be at an absolute premium and it will affect us, too... I've heard horror stories from the USS Tiger. They shipped a huge component of the command staff and support crew from Starbase 118 to Deep Space 17, over three times the standard crew provision, cooped up for three months straight at high warp... no stops. They had people quartered in waste reclamation, in the shuttle bays, in the shuttles, torpedo rooms... everywhere. These were Starfleet personnel, too, not civilians... by the time they got to us at Deep Space 17 they were stir crazy. You'd think the ship was about to breach its core the way they just poured off it... and then, less than twenty four hours, the Vaadwaur attacked and the whole [...] ship became a giant lifeboat-slash-hospital with far too few doctors to treat the injured. ::Katy was quiet for a moment, then looked the man in the eyes and spoke up with a certainty in her voice that she wished she felt inside.:: Orman: That's not going to happen here, Radi. Rais: I know, ma'am. The crew of this ship are the best Starfleet can offer... we can handle a thousand or so Romulans. ::Katy knew better, but didn't want to say it any more than she imagined he did.:: Rais: ::with a shrug:: That or die trying, I guess. ::Scott spoke up at that point, and Katy turned to regard him.:: Shepard: What I do suggest is to have regular patrols throughout Deck 9 simply to maintain order. Security members are trained for this, they can handle everyday police work. I also propose an aide on Deck 9 as a base of operation for Deck 9 security giving refugees a place to go to call for help, get food. Also we can talk to medical to have a small presence as well. We have to also think about disease. I know medical is working on the prevention of that. One more thing, I suggest lightening up on security patrols until we get to Romulus and schedule riot trainings. ::She hadn't thought about that aspect much. She nodded slowly.:: Orman: Yes, you're right. Every single member of Security should have riot training fresh in their mind, just in case. ::she frowned thoughtfully and shifted her weight:: Let's also replicate some riot gear and have it on hand in the... umm, in wherever the armoury ends up. I agree with your recommendations about deck 9 as well... as long as we manage to keep them from overfilling us. 500 is the magic number. If we get loaded up with any more than that, I don't want anyone but Romulans on that deck, period. We'll seal it off with plenty of access to the necessities of life and keep the deck sealed, if possible, the whole trip. With that kind of numbers it's too dangerous to allow the possibility of a riot spilling out onto other decks. ::She sighed quietly and leaned forward, putting her elbows down on her desk as she propped her chin up on her hands and regarded the two men sitting across her desk. Doing her best to let the gratitude she felt show in her expression, she spoke to them both.:: Orman: OK, we know what to prepare for now. Let's get it done. Dismissed. Rais/Shepard: response Orman: No sirs, no ma'ams. If we weren't already comrades, we certainly are now. Call me Katy. And once we're through with this I'm buying you both a drink. Rais/Shepard: response ::Katy watched them leave, and watched the door for a few minutes afterward in silence. Then she stood and stretched, surprised at how stiff her joints were. She went into her lavatory and watched her reflection in the mirror for a minute. What she saw didn't make any sense.:: oO She looks like such a nice person. Sweet, even. Not the sort who would ever, could ever tell hundreds of people that they have to stay behind and leave them to die. Not that sort at all... Oo ::She had only a few moment's warning, enough time to buckle, hand reflexively held over her mouth, and move a few feet over to hunch over the loo as she lost the contents of her stomach.:: ::When it was over a few minutes later, she stood with great care and flushed. She took a minute to wash her face and rinse the acrid taste from her mouth, and then she went back to her desk to keep working.:: oO Not that sort at all... Oo TAG Rais/Shepard Lieutenant Katy Orman Chief of Security USS Victory

Hehe, you mean the original Photoshop files? Yes, of course! Drop me a private message and I'll pass 'em along.

Whee! We have to find a way to JP sometime! Tan is coming back eventually- he'll wanna chat!

Hooray, welcome to the- wait. Darren Shan? o_O Anyway... welcome, Sienae Lyndsay... and welcome back, Darren Shan! And Thelev's active again! Yay!

I stand by my original statement.

Makes sense.

----- Doctor Fiona Shelley Currently on Leave http://wiki.starbase118.net/wiki/index.php?title=Shelley,_Fiona ----- (( Earth - White Rock, British Columbia )) :: The sleepy coastal town of White Rock was swathed in a cold grey mist that was rolling in from the ocean. The mighty Pacific had been angrier than usual this winter, so it was no surprise to Doctor Fiona Shelley that the beach, especially crowded during the summer tourist season, was entirely deserted. :: :: Leaning forward, resting her forearms on the balcony railing, Shelley looked out over the quiet street and beyond that the empty beach and beyond that, the grey wintry waters of the Pacific Ocean, its small whitecaps crashing onto the sands. Everything looked grey in the early-morning mist, the could cover too heavy to allow the sun to break through and burn off the fog. It had been a relatively temperate winter in White Rock and Shelley was happy to have been able to spend time here with family. Her father Norman, himself a retired physician, had bought the three-level house with its oceanfront view here in B.C. just prior the death of his wife in 2378. She’d grown up in the small town of White Rock and Norman had wanted the last months of her disease-ravaged life to spent in a place she loved, away from the hospitals and doctors who really couldn’t do anything for her but keep the pain manageable. And he could do that on his own, in the comfort of their home. :: :: Shelley tucked a stray lock of strawberry blond hair behind her ear as a slight smile tugged at the corners of he mouth. Her mother had loved those final months. Fiona and her family had spent a great deal of time here in White Rock during that time, as had her younger sister Regina and older brother Johnny. Despite the circumstances, it had created a lot of fond memories... and it seemed that after her mother had passed away, everything started to go downhill. It was only a year later that Shelley’s daughter Anna had died and two years after that her husband Rick Souray had accepted a deep space assignment with Starfleet, putting a huge distance between them. :: :: She sighed again. And of course, that had led to her giving up her fairly prestigious civilian position as Assistant Director of Emergency Care at Starfleet Veterans Hospital for an enlisted position in Starfleet. It was supposed to be a way for her and Rick to spend time together, but an administrative foul-up had seen her assigned not to the ship on which her husband served, but to the USS Tiger. Which, of course, led to her becoming acquainted with one David Whale... :: :: For the third time, she sighed. :: Regina: Hey. Thought you might need this. :: Shelley turned at her sisters voice and forced a smile. Regina had always been the “wild child” of the family, but in the last few years, she’d changed so much. She’d become the kind of sister Shelley could confide in and it had been quite the relief when she found that Regina was going to be around while Shelley was on leave from Starfleet. :: :: Shelley took the steaming mug from her sister, the rich smell of the coffee already warming her up. :: Shelley: Thanks. :: Taking a sip, she smiled. :: Shelley: Dad is right -- he makes coffee so much better than a replicator. :: Regina laughed. :: Regina: What a shock, Dad was right about something. :: pause :: Have you heard anything yet? Shelley: Yeah. Apparently there’s some kind of probably with the Constitution’s warp drive -- I don’t have to report until they complete repairs, which doesn’t look like it will be until the new year. Regina: So you’ll be here for Christmas? :: She smiled and nodded. :: Shelley: Looks like it. Regina: The kids will be thrilled to hear that. You know how much they love their Aunt Fi! :: Taking another sip, Shelley chuckled. Her niece and nephew were good kids, but had almost limitless energy reserves. Spending time with them was exhausting. She had a hunch they may have been powered by dilithium. :: Regina: And... this guy you mentioned... :: Shelley quickly turned back to the ocean view, avoiding her sister’s gaze. :: Shelley: David. Regina: Yeah, David. He sounds like a good guy. :: Shelley kept silent. :: Regina: And he serves on the Constitution now, you said? :: [...] it. She should have know Regina would make the connections. Whatever differences Fiona and Regina had had over the years, Fiona had always known and been willing to admit that her sister was extremely bright. And at the moment, Shelley kind of wished she wasn’t. :: Shelley: Yes. He transferred there a little while ago. Regina: Just before you did. :: Closing her eyes, Shelley took another long sip of coffee, feeling the liquid warm her insides and hoping the caffeine jolt would hit soon. She hadn’t been sleeping very well. :: Shelley: What’s your point, Reggie? :: Taking a sip from her own mug, Regina sidled up beside her sister to share the view. She shrugged. :: Regina: I don’t have a point, just making conversation. :: There was a long, long pause... :: Regina: Does he make you happy? :: Shelley snapped her head around to stare at her sister. :: Shelley: What?! Regina: Does he make you happy. This David guy -- are you happy when you’re around him? Shelley: I don’t... I just... Reggie, I... Regina: Fiona, I’m not judging. :: beat :: The other night, when we were talking, when you were telling me about the things you’ve done in Starfleet, the things that involved David... you were happy. You were smiling -- the kind of smile I remember seeing on the OLD Fiona. I haven’t seen you smile like that -- I haven’t seen you HAPPY -- since Anna died. :: Reaching up, Regina smiled sadly as she brushed a windblown strand of hair from her sister’s face. :: Regina: Fi, that means I haven’t seen my sister happy in eight years. :: beat :: When you joined Starfleet, I thought you were an idiot, giving up a great job here on Earth to live in one of those space-faring tin cans. But now? I think it was the best decision you could have made. :: Shelley swallowed heavily. She knew there were tears welling up in her eyes. :: Shelley: I’m just scared, Reg. I just... I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know which way is up, I don’t know which way to turn... Regina: That’s how I spent my twenties. Dont’ worry, Fi, you’ll figure it out. You always do -- that’s why you’re such a great big sister. :: Shelley closed her eye for a moment, then downed the rest of her coffee. :: Shelley: I hope so. Regina: Look, I’m going to go make some breakfast. You hungry? Pamquakes? :: Shelley nodded and smiled. For some reason -- probably some childhood mispronunciation that caught on -- the entire family continued to refer to pancakes as pamquakes. :: :: Regina disappeared back into the house and Shelley turned back to the sea. :: ((Starfleet Veterans Hospital - Emergcy Care Ward)) ((Stardate 237911.06 - Eight years ago )) :: Doctor Shelley arrived just as the three survivors of what many people were calling ‘The Ackerman Event’ were brought in on anti-grav gurneys. None were conscious. The CMO who had been caring for the patients in the seven days since their discovery was there and he stepped up to Shelley with a curt nod. :: Mohinder: Doctor Shelley, I presume. Doctor Asad Mohinder, USS Robert Peel. You’re read my latest report? :: Shelley smiled briefly. :: Shelley: Doctor Mohinder, it’s good to meet you. Yes, your reports have been a great help. Impressively detailed. :: pause :: There were… just the three? :: Mohinder looked at the floor. He was clearly saddened by the answer he had to give. :: Mohinder: Yes, just the three. All bodies have been identified. The entire crew has been accounted for. :: Shelley nodded. It was a sad, but necessary part of a doctor’s job to deal with death. Soemtimes it was an expected death – an elderly person succumbing to the ravages of age – but all to frequently, it was what Mohinder had encountered. People struck down in the prime of their lives. She tapped her padd to bring up some information. :: Shelley: Alton Vines, age fifty-eight. Tina Thoresson, age twenty-four. David Whale, age twenty-eight. Are any of them lucid? Mohinder: Mister Whale comes and goes. The other two have been sedated. :: She nodded, then brought up Whale’s medical history, then waved over Nurse Barlan. :: Shelley: I’d like to see Whale first. :: The nurse nodded and led Shelley and Mohinder to one of the private rooms the hospital staff had prepared for the Ackerman’s survivors. It was a bit of a shock at first to see the man lying there, still wearing a uniform Starfleet hadn’t worn… well, certainly not in her lifetime. But the most surprising thing was that the man – Whale – whose Starfleet medical records said was twenty-eight, still LOOKED twenty-eight. :: Shelley: Amazing. Born over a hundred years ago, but… Mohinder: But he hasn’t aged a day since the ship vanished. :: The two doctors glanced at each other, then bent close to their patient as he began mumbling. :: Shelley: I can’t make it out. Mohinder: Sounds like… jee ahn… Gianna? A name? :: Frowning, Shelley placed a hand on the side of her patient’s face and leaned over him. His eyelids fluttered and it appeared that he was looking at her, but she couldn’t tell if his eyes were focusing. :: Shelley: Mister Whale. David. Don’t worry, David, we’ll take care of you. ::pause:: Can you hear me? :: But his eyes had closed again as he drifted back into unconsciousness. :: (( White Rock - Present Day )) :: Shelley wondered how she would have behaved that day if she’d known how intertwined her life would become with Whale’s when the encountered each other again aboard the USS Tiger two years ago. At the time, those eight years ago in the SVH, she’d thought she was treating just another patient. But now... now Whale was a friend, to be sure, but not just a friend. There was more there, she knew there was, but she was also still furious at the man. As much as she cared for him, the hurt he’d caused was still very raw. :: :: When she finally reported for duty aboard the Constitution, she would confront Whale. He owed her some explanations for what he’d done. :: ======================

OH GOD THEY'RE TIED AT SIX VOTES EACH! It's nailbiting!

Welcome to the fleet! Looking forward to simming with each of you if I get the chance!

I'll give you a hint: UNION! Also, you apparently have good taste in sims!

KHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAN...YE!

Union's gonna win. That's why it has the biggest trophy.

Hmm- I went to vote, but apparently it's a public poll? I thought the polls were all meant to be private... I don't mind people knowing that I voted for "Union". I mean, a photoshopped copy of KANYE WEST supports it. If that's not endorsement enough, I don't know what is!

Woohoo! Grats, Dantin-Vex- welcome to the fleet! If you need help getting set up on the wiki or a character picture, let me know and I'll help set you up!

"At the rate science proceeds, rockets and missiles will one day seem like buffalo -- slow, endangered grazers in the black pasture of outer space." -- Bernard Cooper ***** 2293, in a universe identical to our own... almost. The woman shuffled the papers in front of her in silence. The crowd before her vast podium stretched out as far as she could see. Above her, a huge holographic representation of herself floated in the air- now, viewers many kilometers away could make out her every gesture. The crowd elated, begging her to begin. "We, humans... " Her voice was impossibly loud, amplified by an impressive audio system which blasted her voice to the masses. They instantly fell silent. "...went from first powered flight in 1903 to landing on their moon in 1969. In sixty six years, the human race- OUR race!- went from barely reaching out of our cradle... to visiting other worlds." Silence reigned. Every woman and man attending was enthralled. "At this rate, scientists predicted humanity would be permanently colonizing the moon by 1984, Mars by 1999 and would have spread through most of the solar system by 2010!" Another pause. The only sound was the faint breathing of four million people standing in a vast ocean of uniformed flesh, staring intently. "Was this true? Of course not. Why? Did Humans figure the moon was far enough, then lay down their burdens... rest on their laurels?" Murmurs of discontent. "The answer to this question... is obvious! Examining the period in Earth history between 1903 and 1969 will find one constant among the years... war." ELATION! The crowd roared as one. War! WAR! She calmly waited, holding her thin stack of papers. When the time was right she spoke again. "War inspired humans to leap from cloth-covered biplanes in 1915 to steel-skinned jets only thirty years later. War inspires men to reach greatness- to seek out new ideas. To push the boundaries of the technology beyond what is merely 'acceptable' or 'adequate' and into the fantastic." The serving men and women below her drank in her every word as though inscribed in stone by a deity. "Yet... from the end of the 20th century through to much, much later no other celestial body was landed on by humans. What dominated the period of time between 1970 and 2010?" A pause for effect. "... A period of peace. Oh, yes, there were wars and conflicts- but the countries involved were not involved in total war. They did not hurl their energies into the sole business of slaughter." Murmurs once more. Pleased, elated murmers... "The operation to destroy Praxis... the filthy moon of the Klingon species... was not successful." Gasps! Shock! No doubt each of them felt painfully, personally responsible. Had they not put in their very best? That one sick day a year ago, when they were delirious due to fevor... if they had been strong enough to overthrow it, would the operation have succeeded? No more laziness! The human spirit will overcome such things! "They redouble- quadruple!- their efforts, using Praxis's power to fuel their war effort..." She held her fist in the air. Four million human beings mimicked the gesture. "With the Klingon empire posing such a clear and obvious threat, will humanity now, again, rest on their laurels? Will humanity shy away from sacrifice? Will humanity fail to do what is needed?" The crowd roared again. Too many voices to hear their exact phrasing, but their intention was plain and wordless. NO. ***** 2387, the edges of Federation space Captain Ishtar Sabeen sat on the command chair of the USS Apocalyptica, drumming her fingers impatiently along the console. A woman from Syria, Earth, her collar was an olive green and she commanded this ship. These days, fully forty percent of Starfleet were Marines- whole warships were Marine-only vessels, crewed stem to stern, from Crewman Third Class to Captain, by Starfleet's most highly trained soldiers. Sabeen's vessel was a Prometheus-II class, an ancient vessel whose retirement date had been and gone. The old rustbucket was nearly a century out of date, but the sheer volumes of the things produced in the last great skirmish with the Klingon Empire meant that nearly ten thousand of the vessels were still in service in the Alpha, Beta and Gamma quadrants. The Prometheus-II class used to be the latest and greatest ships- a grand spectacle. Multi-phasic torpedo banks, over forty type XXVI disrupter banks and the "hull-cracker"; a massive singular beam that could annihilate most ships in one or two strikes. It used to be very impressive. These days, more of a joke. "Do you remember when Qo'noS burned, Lau?" Her Mandarin first officer raised a grey-haired eyebrow, looking down at her curiously. "Of course," he said, "I remember walking on the ashes of the planet mere hours after the bombardment ceased. I saw our soldiers raise the Federation's flag on the ruins of the high council chambers... not that we should have bothered, it was uninhabitable anyway." "Mmm," she answered. A pleasant memory. She stroked her lips idly with the tip of her finger. "Then Betazed, then Trill..." Lau inclined his head thoughtfully. "I thought we scoured Trill first, *then* Betazed... it's hard to keep track of your victories." They both laughed. "Filthy alien pigs," she said. Sabeen glanced down at her armrest, fighting to stifle a yawn. "So, Lau- what miserable rock is this anyway?" The man smiled. "I honestly forget... It's on the very outer edges of our claimed space." The communications officer gave a polite cough. "These... 'Bajorans'... are hailing us again, Captain. They, once again, plead for mercy." Sabeen nodded her head, thoughtfully. "Right, right. 'Bajor'. When they're taken care of, we're meeting with the rest of the fleet to press on to Cardassia, then onto Romulus, then into Breen territory..." Lau gave a low chuckle as his confirmation. Sabeen waved to her tactical officer. The green collared man stiffened his back. "Lieutenant, fire up the hull-cracker and begin scorching this planet of its unwashed inhabitants. Inform me when the task is complete..." she turned to her first officer, giving a dark smile. "I'm starving. Lunch?" ***** The two officers politely ate together in the Captain's war room. Live lobsters- the Captain's favourite- were transported by Vulcan slaves to their ship on a daily basis. The Captain gently twisted the legs off her prize, the shell creaking as they were removed. She sucked out the insides. Ahh...! Exquisite. "Do you enjoy our work?" Lau asked, watching her as she ate. He was less enthused by white meat, but he was forced to swallow it down. Sure beat field rations. Sabeen laughed, nodding her head. "Of course! We're serving humanity up here. What if these Bajorans were to rise up like the Klingons? Do you think Klingons so innately infused with the warrior spirit that nobody could equal them?" Lau pondered this, popping some of the salad into his mouth. "I don't know. They appear to be poets, singers, artists... hardly a threat." Sabina put down her fork, her dark eyes narrowing dangerously. "Hardly a threat *now*," she retorted, wrinkling her nose in anger. "Even the cutest, timidest little kitten will scratch and bite if provoked enough... and kittens grow up. We must end the threat now, before it challenges us. Don't you remember how much progress the Klingons made when Praxis was established?" Lau remembered very clearly. "If they were to find another power source like Praxis..." Sabeen answered only with a snort. That's why they were there- to prevent "what ifs" from occurring. "Crewman Michaelson had given birth to her sixth child last night," Lau remarked, changing the subject. "A strong baby girl. A shuttle will arrive tomorrow to take the child. She gave her the name Lisa... " "Is her name really so relevant?" asked Sabeen, smirking and breaking off another leg, "I never name any of my children. I mean, does it matter? They all go to the barracks anyway." Lau nodded. "Producing soldiers is a woman's duty." "It is," Sabeen agreed. "And a man's to service her." The Syrian female reached for the nutcracker, holding out the claw of her meal and shattering the tip. With her forefinger she pushed the meat from the tip of the claw out the larger open end, using a small spoon to dob a brown sauce on the white flesh. "It's been three months since my last child. I'm due to begin the process again." Lau raised his eyebrow. "Your fourth?" "I barely keep track," she answered with a laugh. Lau nodded. "Will you visit Captain Fraser again?" Sabeen rolled her shoulders, using her fork to place the claw meat in her mouth. She let it roll on her tongue, savoring the delightful taste. "Mmm- no, I think not. His vessel is busy cleaning some of the filth away from the neighboring planets to this one." Lau nodded. Fraser's dedication to duty was admirable. "Perhaps someone from the crew, then? They are bound to serve you, if you wish it." Sabeen's eyes glinted in the darkness of her war room. "As are you," she remarked, pointing her fork at his chest. Lau folded his hands in front of him. Sabeen's implication of his next duty was... obvious. He didn't find Sabeen attractive at all, but his duty came before all other things. "I serve the Federation of Nations in whatever task they wish." Sabeen nodded, reaching up and tossing her hair, then casually unzipping the zip on her green collar. "The Federation requires more soldiers for coming battles. Come- let us serve it, then see how the cleansing of that planet is going... oh, what was it again?" "Bajor," Lau reminded her, shrugging off his jacket. ***** An hour later, the Captain and her First Officer returned to the bridge from the Captain's Ready Room. Sabeen threw Lau a glance, breathing a little heavier than normal, a sly grin on her face. "And as of the end of your duty shift, consider yourself confined to my quarters." "Aye, ma'am." Lau, sweat still on his brow, returned to his chair. He was not looking forward to that particular duty at all. "Status?" Sabeen asked, placing her hands on her hips. The tactical officer chuckled lightly. "Their atmosphere ignited as usual," he remarked off-handedly, "This... Bajor... should be exhausting its breathable air presently." Sabeen gave a nod. "Well done Lieutenant," she remarked, "See to it that your rations are increased for the next twelve days." The Lieutenant nodded. "My duty is to serve, Captain." The fires slowly climbed up from Bajor's southern pole, like a hand grasping the planet with fingers of flame. The hull-cracker contained an energy beam so powerful, with heat so intense, it caused a fusion reaction of nitrogen nuclei. Early Terran physicists had worried about such a thing when building their atomic bombs, but their devices were not powerful enough. The hull-cracker, however, was. This ship may be ancient, but it could still serve. Sabeen studied the viewscreen, pleased by what she saw. The Bajorans would be practically extinct, soon, and this was good. They would never threaten humanity like the Klingons had done. This was a necessary act... purging their world of life. Their actions were all about the survival of the human race. The Klingons were the first real threat to the Federation. Their cloaking ships, their physical prowess... only after so many defeats at their hands had the Humans thrown off the shackles of pacifism and embraced a truly militaristic society. Then they had turned the tide. Planet after Klingon planet was reduced to ash, the powerful hull-crackers igniting their atmospheres and burning them dry. The Klingons offered the Humans no quarter and received none in turn. Their species was wiped from the face of the galaxy, save for a few million slaves, and humanity had learned its valuable lesson. War necessitated so many things. The suspension of practically all liberties, the communal raising of children in the millions of unnamed military facilities scattered all over the whole Alpha quadrant, compulsory military service... but necessity was the mother of invention. Of technological progress. The Federation of Nations was in perpetual, total war... every edge they could gain against their countless enemies would be a triumph. This new, brave society was much to their benefit. Humans had conquered over half the galaxy. There were almost a trillion of them scattered throughout most of two quadrants and they bred incessantly, forged vast ships for war and ruthlessly purged the galaxy of any species they could not be bothered to enslave. Humanity lived under an iron sky- a shield that protected them. Hardened their minds and their bodies against the alien hordes that could threaten them. Sabeen watched with growing pleasure as Bajor burned. "When the fires have died down, send an assault team down to plant a flag, then let's move on. We have a lot to-" The tactical officer spoke up. "Captain- a ship is inbound." Sabeen turned to him, grinning eagerly. "That would be Captain Fraser. On screen." A strange sight greeted her. A large cube, green and black, obviously vast in size was rapidly closing in on them at an impossibly high speed. How...? Lau frowned. "Bajoran defenders, too late to save their planet? I've never seen a vessel of this configuration..." A voice came through their communication systems. It was a trillion whispering voices overlaid, tainted with the mechanical and sythetic. "WE ARE THE BORG. LOWER YOUR SHIELDS AND SURRENDER YOUR SHIPS. WE WILL ADD YOUR BIOLOGICAL AND TECHNOLOGICAL DISTINCTIVENESS TO OUR OWN. YOU WILL ADAPT TO-" Sabeen made a 'throat cutting' gesture with her hand and the communications officer severed the link. "Turn the hull-cracker on these dogs," she roared, jabbing her finger at the viewscreen. "And inform Starfleet Command we have a new enemy for them to face! Red alert, tactical- fire at will!" ***** Epilogue: 2391, four years after the assimilation of the Apocalyptica and her crew Ten thousand vessels dropped out of warp over the course of two days. Ships of every class and make, each painted in the black hue of the Federation. It was the largest fleet made by the Federation of Nations since the war against the Klingons. Their enemy was vast... a species known as the "Borg" who occupied half the galaxy. They seemed to be invincible. Every time the Federation lost a ship, the Borg gained one. Every time the Federation lost a soldier, the Borg gained one. The Klingons had Praxis, the Borg had transwarp and an unending source of manpower- besting even humans by many, many orders of magnitude. Admiral Fraser's voice echoed throughout the now assembled fleet. His speech echoed the famous one from history's past, calling humanity to once again throw away the comforts of their lives for the greater good. This enemy was just as the Klingons... another foe to be vanquished. Destroyed. Crushed beneath their heel... It was the beginning of a long campaign- longer than his natural lifespan, perhaps, but one that was necessary. The human population, now well over a trillion, needed an enemy to fight or it would become complacent. The Borg were exactly what humanity needed. Admiral Fraser nodded to his first officer, signalling him to move the fleet into Borg space. For humanity to grow, there must always be war.

Woo hoo! Welcome to the fleet! I've already seen some of Pierce's sims- they are excellent! Looking forward to Thomas's as well!

((Starbase 118, Deck 1010, Holosuite ) ::Unky translated himself to the holosuite about twenty minutes early; he wasn't certain if he would encounter any obstacles getting through the starbase's systems, and it simply wouldn't do to have the Lieutenant Commander see him appear. Far too many awkward questions to answer that way. He set the holosuite to mimic a laboratory setup, the better to excuse his not leaving when she did, and settled down at a lab table looking busy until she arrived. He stuck with the same blue shirt he'd projected on the call, with added trousers and his usual white lab coat. When she did arrive, a couple of minutes before the prearranged time, he stood and smiled at her warmly. She stepped forward, her demeanour uncertain.:: MacKenna: ::with a smile that was obviously pasted on for his benefit:: Hello...uh....Katy's uncle. ::He met her false smile with his most relaxed and easygoing one.:: Unky: Call me Hayt. It's a pleasure to meet you. MacKenna: Oh ah...Nice to meet you then. ::She shifted her weight uncomfortably.:: ::He mentally sized her up. Plenty of intelligence behind those eyes. No shortage of strength, either. She gave the impression of a banked fire; smouldering for the moment but ready to flare to life when needed. Unky decided that he liked her.:: Unky: I'm terribly sorry; this must seem very odd to you. As I mentioned, Katy was going to ask you herself, but... needs must when the devil drives, eh? ::She didn't seem impressed. Unky sighed inwardly. No one appreciated a good turn of phrase nowadays.:: MacKenna: So um, what's this project that Katy has going? ::Unky sat back down onto his lab stool and motioned for Ash to sit as well. He picked up a PADD (he'd been pleased to find that the holosuite came with a replicator, saving him the inconvenience of explaining why he needed a PADD delivered) and used it to gesture as he spoke.:: Unky: The purpose of the project is... well, it's to create something that Katy needs. ::He didn't elaborate on that; best to let her assume that the equations she would be doing would be for a computer model or somesuch.:: I don't really want to elaborate any more than that. I'm sure she'll fill you in if you ask, but it's not my place. What you'll be doing is maths. Very complex and unusual maths; it's a sort of base-six modelling mapped onto eleven dimensions. ::He handed her the PADD:: The equations are on there. You'll find it's strange, as it doesn't use the Hindu-Arabic numerals you're used to, but rather a set of intonations that represent 0-5 in each dimension, sixty-six in all. Well, sixty-seven, really, but that one's just a modifier for fractal dimensions, not really a numeral itself. ::He glanced at her, hiding a smile; her interest in the maths seemed to be overriding her bewilderment about their nature. He could relate to that.:: The first section is basically a primer; I suspect you'll recognise the mathematical logic very quickly. After which you begin the actual project. Now, this is important - First, don't try to convert them to any other numeral system or any other base in your head. If you do, problems will creep in no matter how accurate you are. Stick to the intonations, either vocalised or mentally sounded. You can note down solutions in any format you like, however, to help remember them from session to session. Second, don't use a computer of any sort to help with the solving... if an abacus would help you, though, feel free. Third, and perhaps most importantly, don't use this system of maths for ANYTHING else. It's designed for a specific purpose, and only to be used for that purpose. ::he looked thoughtful for a moment:: In point of fact, if you could avoid even describing it to anyone other than Katy or myself, I would take it as a great favour. This sort of maths really isn't something that would be good for your culture... any of the cultures in your galaxy, really... to have at this point. ::He gave her his most winning smile to try to counter the strangeness, the smile practically identical to Katy's--as it should be, she having picked it up from him--and it seemed to work. Either that, or the prospect of tackling strange new equations was enough motivation for the young woman to ignore all manner of strangeness.:: I project it will be about thirty hours of solving. If taken in four hour shifts, that's about a week. Are you up for that? MacKenna: Well, I don't mind doing it. ::glancing down at the PADD as though wondering how it had gotten into her hands:: I'll get started tomorrow if that's ok. Unky: Absolutely perfect. I'm immensely grateful, and I know Katy is as well. MacKenna: Alright. ::She turned, then turned back in afterthought:: Oh, so do I give this to Katy when it's done, or is there a way to reach you? Unky: ::smiling gently:: Katy will know when it's done. You don't need to return the PADD at all; in fact, I'd appreciate it if you deleted the information when you're done and recycle the PADD completely. MacKenna: Sure. Uh...bye. ::She waved a goodbye, clearly feeling awkward, and left.:: ::Unky watched the doors for a while after they closed, wondering if he'd just handed a blaster to an australopithecine. Not Ash herself, but he had no confidence that the Federation would use the technology well if she let it slip somehow.:: oO I suppose I shouldn't worry. Other than MacKenna, I can think of only one or two people in Starfleet who could tackle those equations. And I think one of them was already snatched up by that fellow from Tau Alpha C. Still... Oo ::He shrugged. What would happen, would happen, and he would deal with the consequences. It was necessary that Katy receive this protection if she was to be ready for what was to come.:: oO And if it makes her more confident and less frightened of that betazoid fellow in the meantime, so much the better. Oo ::He snapped his fingers and the scene around him abruptly changed. He was still on a stool, but now it was in an artist's garret. Light filtered in through the window, illuminating dust motes on the way to its destination - an easel with a blank canvas. He picked up a pallette of acrylics and a broad brush and began to paint. As always, he started painting with no picture in mind, and as always, the image that formed under the brush was the face of a woman; blonde, bold of feature, with eyes full of equal measures of humour and determination. It took him about two hours to finish, during which his only thoughts were on brush strokes, lighting, outline, blending... when he finished, he set the brush and easel gently down and regarded the painting with a still, quiet longing. The pain in his eyes as he stared at the woman whose name he could not even frame in his mind was so acute that it seemed more real than the face it existed on. For perhaps ten minutes he sat like that, perfectly still. Then with a grimace and another slap of his fingers, the holosuite shut down, leaving nothing but an empty room.:: PNPC Unky USS Victory

((Tyriden's Quarters, USS Independence-A)) ::Going through the list of names of personnel working in the science department for the umpteenth time, he rubbed his tired eyes. He fell backwards onto his firm bed, gazing blankly at the ceiling.:: Tyriden: oO I wonder if I am allowed to choose who works with me in my sub-department.. Oo ::He went through the list of names once again. He realized he was merely stalling, and heaved a sigh. Forcing himself out of bed, he walked to the computer console and sat down in front of it. He drummed his fingers atop the desk.:: Tyriden: Computer, please open a secure communications channel to Earth. Buenos Aires. Mr and Mrs Frederick. Computer: ::after a brief pause and customary chirp:: Secure communications channel now open. ::The screen went black for a fraction of a second and when it came on again, a seated elderly couple was smiling back at him.:: Tyriden: Hello, Mother. Hello, Father. ::He felt his heart swell.:: Mrs Frederick: Hello, Tyriden! How are you? It's nice of you to call us. Mr Frederick: We weren't expecting you to call us back so soon. Is everything all right? Tyriden: Everything is all right. How have you been, Father, Mother? Is Dr Braden paying you regular housecalls? Mrs Frederick: Oh, he's just a darling, that man! Even when we told him we feel absolutely fine, he still insisted on continuing his housecalls till you returned. Mr Frederick: ::cheekily:: I think Dr Braden only comes back often because he's fond of your Mother's home-baked shortbread. Not that we mind. ::Mrs Frederick elbowed her silver-haired strapping husband in the ribs.:: Mrs Frederick: Oh, Charles! Tyriden: It is reassuring to know you are both in good health and well looked after. Mr Frederick: How's everyone treating you, Tyriden? They giving you a tough time for your absence? Tyriden: Not at all, Father. My shipmates have been most welcoming and understanding. ::He recalled fondly the conversation he had had with Lt JG Sudra just the other day.:: LtCmdr Ehlanii is now the chief of science. She is putting me and Lt JG Sudra in charge of a sub-department each. I am looking forward to this new responsibility. Mrs Frederick: That's wonderful news, Tyriden! It'll give you ample time to work on that alien spider report. Mr Frederick: They were insects, Lucy-Ann. Not spiders. Mrs Frederick: ::rolling her eyes:: What's the difference? They're all bugs anyway. Mr Frederick: ::mocking frustration:: Tell your mother spiders ain't insects, Tyriden. Tyriden: Technically, spiders are arachnids which are made up of a cephalothorax and an abdomen, whereas insects are made up of three distict parts--- Mrs Frederick: Oh, do be careful out there, Tyriden! Who knows what these... insects are capable of? Tyriden: I am always, Mother... ::His smile quickly faded.:: Has there been any development in the investigations? Have the authorities found a lead? ::Tyriden's foster parents paused momentarily before exchanging glances. Finally, Mr Frederick spoke.:: Mr Frederick: ::exasperation evident in his voice:: They've been calling us less and less often. Nothing substantial so far... I think we all know where this is going to lead. Mrs Frederick: Your father and I just want to forget this horrid incident and retreat to the mountains. We have land there we could work on, keep ourselves busy. Buy a couple of horses, some sheep, chickens. I believe we'd truly be happy there, Tyriden. Tyriden: ::trying to hide the anger stirring in his heart:: Are you sure that that is a wise decision? What about justice? Mr Frederick: Family takes precedence over everything else. And that includes justice. I know you won't understand all this right now, Tyriden, but one day you'll realize that it can the best decision to just walk away from a situation. One day you will. ::The Andorian was thankful that his foster parents could not see his hands under the desk, for they were balled into tight fists.:: ====================== Lt JG Tyriden th'Dani Science Officer USS INDEPENDENCE-A with Mr & Mrs Frederick Tyriden's foster parents as simmed by Lt JG Tyriden th'Dani

A draft of my submission is up! It needs more work, but it's there!

"At the rate science proceeds, rockets and missiles will one day seem like buffalo -- slow, endangered grazers in the black pasture of outer space." -- Bernard Cooper ***** 2321, in a universe identical to our own... save one little moon. The woman shuffled the papers in front of her in silence. The crowd before her vast podium stretched out as far as she could see. Above her, a huge holographic representation of herself floated in the air- now, viewers many kilometers away could make out her every gesture. The crowd elated, begging her to begin. "We, humans... " Her voice was impossibly loud, amplified by an impressive audio system which blasted her voice to the masses. They instantly fell silent. "...went from first powered flight in 1903 to landing on their moon in 1969. In sixty six years, the human race- OUR race!- went from barely reaching out of our cradle... to visiting other worlds." Silence reigned. Every woman and man attending was enthralled. "At this rate, scientists predicted humanity would be permanently colonizing the moon by 1984, Mars by 1999 and would have spread through most of the solar system by 2010!" Another pause. The only sound was the faint breathing of four million people standing in a vast ocean of uniformed flesh, staring intently. "Was this true? Of course not. Why? Did Humans figure the moon was far enough, then lay down their burdens... rest on their laurels?" Murmurs of discontent. "The answer to this question... is obvious! Examining the period in Earth history between 1903 and 1969 will find one constant among the years... war." ELATION! The crowd roared as one. War! WAR! She calmly waited, holding her thin stack of papers. When the time was right she spoke again. "War inspired humans to leap from cloth-covered biplanes in 1915 to steel-skinned jets only thirty years later. War inspires men to reach greatness- to seek out new ideas. To push the boundaries of the technology beyond what is merely 'acceptable' or 'adequate' and into the fantastic." The serving men and women below her drank in her every word as though inscribed in stone by a deity. "Yet... from the end of the 20th century through to much, much later no other celestial body was landed on by humans. What dominated the period of time between 1970 and 2010?" A pause for effect. "... A period of peace. Oh, yes, there were wars and conflicts- but the countries involved were not involved in total war. They did not hurl their energies into the sole business of slaughter." Murmurs once more. Pleased, elated murmers... She held her fist in the air. Four million human beings mimicked the gesture. "With the Klingon empire posing such a clear and obvious threat, will humanity now, again, rest on their laurels?" The crowd roared again. Too many voices to hear their words, but their intention was plain and wordless. NO. ***** 2387, the edges of Federation space Captain Ishtar Sabeen sat on the command chair of the USS Apocalyptica, drumming her fingers impatiently along the console. A woman from Syria, Earth, her collar was an olive green and she commanded this ship. These days, fully forty percent of Starfleet were Marines- whole warships were Marine-only vessels, crewed stem to stern, from Crewman Third Class to Captain, by Starfleet's most highly trained soldiers. Sabeen's vessel was a Prometheus-II class, an ancient vessel whose retirement date had been and gone. The old rustbucket was nearly a century out of date, but the sheer volumes of the things produced in the last great skirmish with the Klingon Empire meant that nearly ten thousand of the vessels were still in service in the Alpha, Beta and Gamma quadrants. The Prometheus-II class used to be the latest and greatest ships- a grand spectacle. Multi-phasic torpedo banks, over forty type XXVI disrupter banks and the "hull-cracker"; a massive singular beam that could annihilate most ships in one or two strikes. It used to be very impressive. These days, more of a joke. "Do you remember when Qo'noS burned, Lau?" Her Mandarin first officer raised a grey-haired eyebrow, looking down at her curiously. "Of course," he said, "I remember walking on the ashes of the planet mere hours after the bombardment ceased. I saw our soldiers raise the Federation's flag on the ruins of the high council chambers... not that we should have bothered, it was uninhabitable anyway." "Mmm," she answered. A pleasant memory. "Then Betazed, then Trill..." Lau inclined his head thoughtfully. "I thought we scoured Trill first, *then* Betazed... it's hard to keep track of your victories." They both laughed. "Filthy alien pigs," she said. Sabeen glanced down at her armrest, fighting to stifle a yawn. "So, Lau- what miserable rock is this anyway?" The man smiled. "I honestly forget... It's on the very outer edges of our claimed space." The communications officer gave a polite cough. "The Bajorans are hailing us again, Captain. They, once again, plead for mercy." Sabeen nodded her head, thoughtfully. "Right, right. Bajor. Then we're meeting with the rest of the fleet to press on to Cardassia, then onto Romulus, then into Breen territory..." Lau gave a low chuckle as his confirmation. Sabeen waved to her tactical officer. The green shirted man saluted. "Lieutenant, fire up the hull-cracker and begin scorching this planet of its unwashed inhabitants. Inform me when the task is complete..." she turned to her first officer, giving a dark smile. "Lobster?" ***** The two officers politely ate together in the Captain's war room. Live lobsters- the Captain's favourite- were transported by Vulcan slaves to their ship on a daily basis. The Captain gently twisted the legs off her prize, the shell creaking as they were removed. She sucked out the insides. Ahh...! "Crewman Michaelson had given birth to her sixth child last night," Lau remarked, "A strong baby girl. A shuttle will arrive tomorrow to take the child. She gave her the name Lisa... " "Is her name really so relevant?" asked Sabeen, smirking and breaking off another leg, "I never name any of my children. I mean, does it matter? They all go to the barracks anyway." Lau nodded. "Producing soldiers is a woman's duty." "It is," Sabeen agreed. "And a man's to service her." The Syrian reached for the nutcracker, holding out the claw of her meal and shattering the tip. With her forefinger she pushed the meat from the tip of the claw out the larger open end, using a small spoon to dob a brown sauce on the white flesh. "It's been three months since my last child. I'm due to begin the process again." Lau [...]ed his eyebrow. "Your fourth?" "I barely keep track," she answered with a laugh. Lau nodded. "Will you use Captain Fraser again?" Sabeen rolled her shoulders, using her fork to place the claw meat in her mouth. She let it roll on her tongue, savoring the delightful taste. "Mmm- no. His vessel is busy cleaning some of the filth away from the neighboring planets to this one." Lau nodded. Fraser's dedication to duty was admirable. "Perhaps someone from the crew, then? They are bound to serve you, if you wish it." Sabeen's eyes glinted in the darkness of her war room. "As are you," she remarked. Lau folded his hands in front of him. Sabeen's implication of his next duty was... obvious. "I serve the Federation of Nations in whatever task they wish." Sabeen nodded, reaching up and tossing her hair, then casually unzipping the zip on her green collar. "The Federation requires more soldiers for coming battles. Come- let us serve it, then see how the cleansing of that planet is going... oh, what was it again?" "Bajor," Lau reminded her, shrugging off his jacket. ***** An hour later, the Captain and her First Officer returned to the bridge. "Status?" Sabeen asked, breathing a little heavier than normal. She placed her hands on her hips. Lau, sweat still on his brow, returned to his chair. The tactical officer chuckled lightly. "Their atmosphere ignited as usual," he remarked off-handedly, "This... Bajor... should be exhausting its breathable air presently." Sabeen gave a nod. "Well done Lieutenant," she remarked, "See to it that your rations are increased for the next twelve days." She studied him for a moment, a sly grin on her face. "And as of the end of your duty shift, consider yourself confined to my quarters." The Lieutenant nodded. He did not find Sabeen attractive at all, but that was irrelevant. The Federation needed soldiers. "My duty is to serve, Captain." The fires slowly climbed up from Bajor's southern pole, like a hand grasping the planet with fingers of flame. The hull-cracker contained an energy beam so powerful, with heat so intense, it caused a fusion reaction of nitrogen nuclei. Early Terran physicists had worried about such a thing when building their atomic bombs, but their devices were not powerful enough. The hull-cracker, however, was. This ship may be ancient, but it could still serve. Sabeen studied the viewscreen, pleased by what she saw. The Bajorans would be practically extinct, soon, and this was good. They would never threaten humanity like the Klingons had done. The Klingons were the first real threat to the Federation. Their cloaking ships, their physical prowess... only after so many defeats at their hands had the Humans thrown off the shackles of pacifism and embraced a truly militaristic society. Then they had turned the tide. Planet after Klingon planet was reduced to ash, the powerful hull-crackers igniting their atmospheres and burning them dry. The Klingons offered the Humans no quarter and received none in turn. Their species was wiped from the face of the galaxy, save for a few million slaves, and humanity had learned its valuable lesson. War necessitated so many things. The suspension of practically all liberties, the communal raising of children in the millions of unnamed military facilities scattered all over the whole Alpha quadrant, compulsory military service... but necessity was the mother of invention. Of technological progress. The Federation of Nations was in perpetual, total war... every edge they could gain against their countless enemies would be a triumph. This new, brave society was much to their benefit. Humans had conquered over half the galaxy. There were almost a trillion of them scattered throughout most of two quadrants and they bred incessantly, forged vast ships for war and ruthlessly purged the galaxy of any species they could not be bothered to enslave. Humanity lived under an iron sky- a shield that protected them. Hardened their minds and their bodies against the alien hordes that could threaten them. Sabeen watched with growing pleasure as Bajor burned. "When the fires have died down, send an assault team down to plant a flag, then let's move on. We have a lot to-" The tactical officer spoke up. "Captain- a ship is inbound." Sabeen turned to him, grinning eagerly. "That would be Captain Fraser. On screen." A strange sight greeted her. A large cube, green and black, obviously vast in size was rapidly closing in on them at an impossibly high speed. How...? Lau frowned. "Bajoran defenders, too late to save their planet? I've never seen a vessel of this configuration..." A voice came through their communication systems. It was a trillion whispering voices overlaid, tainted with the mechanical and sythetic. "WE ARE THE BORG. LOWER YOUR SHIELDS AND SURRENDER YOUR SHIPS. WE WILL ADD YOUR BIOLOGICAL AND TECHNOLOGICAL DISTINCTIVENESS TO OUR OWN. YOU WILL ADAPT TO-" Sabeen made a 'throat cutting' gesture with her hand and the communications officer severed the link. "Turn the hull-cracker on these dogs," she roared, jabbing her finger at the viewscreen. "And inform Starfleet Command we have a new enemy for them to face! Red alert, tactical- fire at will!" ***** Epilogue: 2391, four years after the assimilation of the Apocalyptica and her crew Ten thousand vessels dropped out of warp over the course of two days. Ships of every class and make, each painted in the black hue of the Federation. It was the largest fleet made by the Federation of Nations since the war against the Klingons. Their enemy was vast... a species known as the Borg. They seemed to be invincible. Every time the Federation lost a ship, the Borg gained one. Every time the Federation lost a soldier, the Borg gained one. Admiral Fraser's voice echoed throughout the now assembled fleet. His speech echoed the famous one from history's past, calling humanity to once again throw away the comforts of their lives for the greater good. This enemy was just as the Borg... another foe to be vanquished. Destroyed. Crushed beneath their heel... It was the beginning of a long campaign- longer than his natural lifespan, perhaps, but one that was necessary. The human population, now well over a trillion, needed an enemy to fight or it would become complacent. The Borg were exactly what humanity needed. Admiral Fraser nodded to his first officer, signalling him to move the fleet into Borg space. For humanity to grow, there must always be war.