Ryan Horn

Congratulations Julia! A lot of great stories out there...nice job all.. -Ben

Well it's out there. Here'e hoping it can compete with the stories already out there... Good luck all!

“Captain! We're under attack! The Borg have breached decks ten through fourteen. Nothing seems to stop them...what can we do?” Calmly, Starfleet's most renowned Captain turned to the panicked ensign. “Mr. Glottin, calm yourself. Initiate a level 3 magnetic pulse on decks nine through fifteen. That should take care of the problem.” The ensign's frantic typing on his keypad was the only sound for precious seconds as he worked furiously to complete the task. In moments he turned back to the captain a look of awe on his face. “Captain...the Borg...they're...” Suddenly, the ensign’s face changed before her eyes taking on the leaden look identical to the Borg. When he spoke it was a surprisingly pleasant alto “Lieutenant junior grade Allison Cadney, this is your requested wakeup reminder. Lieutenant junior grade Allison Cadney, this is your requested wakeup reminder...” Shaking her head to clear it as she acknowledged the call, Allison sighed. In her dreams she was everything she wasn't awake. She'd joined Starfleet at a young age, her dreams of helping others, of seeing the incredible sights of the universe, of leading people into new and exciting adventures, had seemed well within her reach. That was over twenty years ago, and the dreams had faded. Oh, she was at least accomplishing some of those goals. She was on the USS Excelsior, assigned to deep space exploration. She'd seen amazing sights, from her review of the logs of the away team members, or from the mission reports turned in from the command staff. Sadly, despite her every wish to the contrary, her responsibility was to gather the information on each of these missions, and provide a summary of events. In the grand scheme, she was merely the scribe who reported it all. ------- “Captain's Log, Stardate 2380623.012 We've arrived on a class M planet in the Darvonis sector. Starfleet has requested our investigation of a colony created on this world. Previously a thriving new colony, all contact suddenly ended two weeks ago. With any luck, this will not take us from our primary mission for any significant length of time.” -------- Allison moved through the corridors, as unnoticed as a ghost. No one actually moved through her, but no conversations paused as she moved, no one's eyes did more than flicker in her direction, no one raised their hands in friendly greeting. Continuing her path through the ship, she rang the chime of the counselor's door as she'd done hundreds of times before. “Enter, and be welcome.” came the reply from inside the room. Allison thought back to when she'd first heard that friendly voice...the thoughts that finally someone cared...or at least noticed her. Sadly, she’d quickly learned that even here, she was no more than a statistic. The handsome younger man looked up from behind the desk he sat at, obviously trying to remember who she was. “Ah...Lieutenant junior grade...” “Cadney sir, Allison Cadney. I'm here for my yearly psychological evaluation.” “Of course, of course, let me bring up your file.” Moments passed as the blonde officer read through his report. “Everything here looks normal. If you have no questions, it looks like we are set.” “Ah…Counselor, I still have the problem we discussed before.” Seeing the lack of comprehension on his face, she continued. “It's like no one knows I exist.” “Lieutenant, if you feel that way, simply put yourself where others are. Don't sit back, join a discussion, sit with a group of people.” He paused, looking at the time on his panel. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to prepare for the away mission.” Allison found herself being gently, but firmly, guided out of the room. He'd taken the amount of time required, nothing more or less. She walked out feeling even more transparent than ever. -------- “Captain's log: Stardate: 2380623.542 The away team has returned from the planet's surface with disturbing news. The colony is dead. There was no sign of an overt attack, in fact people were sitting or lying in comfortable locations. The doctor informs me that all died from dehydration, however it appears that they were well on their way to starving to death. We will stay near this planet for another day in order to bury the dead, and attempt to determine what caused their deaths.” -------- “Chief Security officers Log: Stardate: 2380623.600 Our investigation of the colony is inconclusive at best. There are no signs of violence; the only significantly odd event is the number of people hooked up to empty IV tubes in their medical facility. We will continue to look; I just wish we knew what happened.” Ending the log entry, he sat back and closed his eyes. He could almost see the scene on the planet, as if through a window playing itself out before him. His lips, barely moving, mouthed the words “So that’s why…” -------- Allison sat in the ship's lounge. She'd tried the counselor's advice, with the same lack of success as the last time he'd suggested it. She had sat down with a lively group of people talking. They hadn't noticed her arrival...and even hours later...no one had talked to her or appeared to have included her in the conversation. She ended up moving to a corner table, pulling out her PADD. She might not be one of them, but at least she'd complete her work. In moments, she lost track of the events around her, as she began the work of combining the individual logs into a coherent summary for the mission report. -------- “Chief Medical Officer's Log: Stardate 2380624.263 The initial determination of the medical personnel on the colony world was a coma-like reaction. No apparent injury was encountered, nor any symptoms prior to the “infection”. Worse, they were unable to find any means of passing the reaction from one person to another. Some worked daily with the coma victims without incident, while others were affected kilometers away. More interesting, while the bodies remained in a coma, their brain waves indicated they were dreaming. I've completed several autopsies; there are no foreign particles, no failed organs. Our initial prognosis remains, these people died of thirst, mere feet away from a water source.” Shutting off the recorder, she wearily looked around her office. What could be so important, so overreaching, that someone would “forget” to eat or drink? -------- “Captain's Log: Stardate: 2380624.532 The doctor informs me that there is no additional information she can glean from the planet, and the burials have been completed. We are going to continue on our course to the micro quasar in a nearby system. I look forward to the temporal testing that is planned around it. On a side note, I am concerned by the relaxed attitude the crew is taking recently. While we are unlikely to meet significant martial threats out here, I have received multiple reports of crew members not showing up for their duty assignments. The FO assures me that the problem will be taken care of.” -------- Allison paused as she transcribed the notes from the mission logs. She imagined leading the team on the planet, finding the missing link that caused all of the colonists’ problems. After a moment she chuckled slightly. “Or I could imagine that someone would notice me, just about as likely.” She was grateful that the other departments were busy, the lounge was almost empty, a rarity at this time of day. -------- The Chief of Security lay absolutely still on the bio-bed. Doctor Williams checked the readings again, physically the Chief was fine, though dehydrated, but simply would not wake up. Mystified, he walked over to the CMO's office, knocking once before entering. “Melissa, I've got a problem with Jeffries, someone found him at his desk, staring at...Melissa?!?” Sitting there, a slight smile on her face was the Chief Medical Officer of the Excelsior, staring into nothing just as was the Chief in the other room. -------- If there was one thing that the Captain hated, it was being woken up. Not for the loss of sleep, but for the fact that if she'd been awoken, things were in a bad way. The panicked call from sickbay confirmed her fears once more. Recognizing the symptoms as similar to the reports on the planet, she ordered the helm to return there. She spoke the words aloud that screamed in her heart, “Whatever it is, it won't happen here...not on my ship...not to my crew!” For a moment, she thought she saw a window, an old terran style four paned window with worn white trim. It looked real enough to touch...then disappeared. She blinked her eyes for a moment, clearing her head. “Captain. We've arrived in orbit around the planet, what are your orders?” “Helm, how did we arrive so quickly? I just gave the order to turn around.” “Ah...Captain, that was several hours ago. We woke you based on our proximity to the planet.” She blushed, thankful that no one else could see her. This explained the image she’d seen, she'd been dreaming. She'd simply have to ask the counselor what that image suggested. “Thank you Mr. Cotter. I'll be beaming down.” Captain Astrid Solaris wasn't surprised by what she found once on the planet. An entity, showing such pure evil that she shuddered, was revealed before her. The shiny black undulating surface stretched to show the faces of her crew. Somehow it had absorbed their essences into it. Their bodies might survive, but they’d never live again. A tendril reached towards her, pulling her towards the entity. She fired her phaser, hoping to hurt the entity. The creature morphed itself around the beam, unaffected by it. “Don’t fight my dear Captain, you are lost...as is your crew.” Its burbling laughter infuriated her; Astrid stopped fighting the tendril and threw herself at the entity. “Not my crew, you monster! You'll never take them!” She didn't know if it was the purity of her purpose, her righteous anger, or that she’d surprised the entity by attacking, but she could feel every blow release a member of her crew...saving one more person. Finally, the entity fell away to tatters, she’d destroyed it. No more would it trouble her crew, her ship...or even the Federation. She'd won! -------- “Captain? Captain!?” The captain had answered the call, but after a few moments of talking to her, Williams realized she'd stopped talking. “I've got to do something...it's spreading like the plague!” He moved to signal a medical quarantine. An image to his left distracted him, he saw himself stopping the plague, curing it. He saw himself shown to be a hero to Starfleet, and remembered as one of the great healers. Doctor Williams body was found lying a mere foot from the computer pad he’d set out to reach. -------- Allison moved through the ship in a daze. She'd spent most of the night gathering all the information from the away mission, but found herself unable to get in touch with those crew members. She grumbled quietly as she sat down with her tray of food. “I'm not THAT transparent, they could at least acknowledge me.” Raising her voice slightly, she spoke to the young ensign sitting down the table from her. “Excuse me, could you please pass the salt?” Moments passed without a response. Shrugging slightly, she got up to get it. Reaching for it, she frowned at the Ensign who had remained unmoving. “Ensign, it is rude to ignore a superior officer, or anyone who is...Ensign?” Looking more closely, the ensign was asleep, sitting there. “Huh, must have pulled an all-nighter like I did.” Shaking him slightly she tried to wake him. “Ensign, wake up...Ensign!” Now seriously concerned, Allison hit her comm. badge. “Lieutenant Cadney to Sickbay we have a medical emergency in the Lounge.” The slightly shrill echo of her voice echoed through the room. She suddenly realized how quiet it was, no one was moving. Nor had anyone in the room reacted to her announcement. No rush of people, no heads turning. The only sound was the echo of her quickly retreating footsteps. -------- It took her several hours to confirm her fears. She was the only conscious person on the ship. After her initial reaction, she found that this didn't panic her as it would others. She'd felt alone on the ship before, this was just a more literal extension of the feeling. Instead was the sense of responsibility. She was the only one left; no one else could save the ship. Allison began examining the logs from the Captain and away team for clues. Her entire life had been reading other's work and summarizing it, allowing her to quickly qualify her situation. No one had any idea. Nothing anyone in sickbay or on the planet had roused any from their coma-like sleep. There was nothing detectably wrong with anyone affected; they simply were no longer conscious. Life became a dream for them, until their body failed. Allison sat there stunned. Here she was, in the perfect situation to prove herself...and she still couldn't make a difference. No one would ever know that she had not been affected. When a rescue ship came to investigate, they'd be affected as well. The process would continue, again and again. In absolute frustration she screamed. “I...just...want...to make...a... DIFFERENCE!!!” She fell forward, cradling her head in her arms as she cried. -------- Hours later, or perhaps only minutes, she raised her head, and [...]ed it to the side as she heard some faint noise. Then she saw it hanging in midair: a perfect window. She could see in it all of her dreams coming true. Allison saw her shattering the window, releasing everyone from their slumbers. Hailed by Captain and crew for saving their lives. One promotion leading to the next as her worth was shown to all. Perhaps it was just a coincidence, that her desire to make a difference matched what needed to be done. But in that moment, she experienced crystal clarity. She could, knowing from the images she'd seen, destroy the window. She would have made a difference, but might not even be recognized for it. Even if she was she might well fade back into obscurity. Or, she could accept the images, open the window and have all of her dreams fulfilled. Others might claim it wasn't real, but she would never know the difference, nor would anyone else. It came down to that, her decision...perhaps her one chance to make a true difference in the lives of everyone she knew, or perhaps an even larger audience than she'd ever know. Or, to have all of her dreams fulfilled with one simple action. Slowly, deliberately, she moved to the window...

Ok...got it written...now I just have to get past my editors...(friends are fun.. ) I'll be posting it later today..."Transparent Desires"..

I'll have to try something...not sure though.. a lot of the good concepts have been used. What will I write about that's...different...

Great job guys! It's always great to see how others interpret the challenges..and what they write..

The pounding on the door was growing louder. They didn't dare risk a stray shot, hitting something in here, so there was no weapons fire. But even with the reinforced door, it was simply a matter of time. He looked back down at the paper in front of him. Perhaps, the low tech solution would allow him to put a stop to them. Or at least explain his actions. Once again, he scanned the paper, then began writing, desperately trying to ignore the ever growing intensity of the pounding. “If you are reading this, then I am dead. Corny I know, but far too true. I have managed to win the war, only to discover it was simply a battle and in doing so have lost a far greater war. As with many things of this sort, it all started very simply, and with the very best of intentions.” “You see, we were fighting a war. More to the point, we were losing...” He looked at the reports in front of him. They were losing. Perhaps not dramatically, and not without losses on their opponents' sides, but losing none the less. They needed an edge, something to shift the balance back. And based on the newest round of testing, they had it. He just had to convince everyone to use it. He looked up at the rest of the council in the room. He was the only person there without the formal ranking scheme used by the military, although his position gave him a status approximating many there. As the current speaker ended this description of their situation, he cleared his throat to get their attention. “Ah, excuse me Sirs, if I may address the council?” The graying leader of the council nodded. “You may.” He stood up, passing documents out to the council members. “What you see before you is my proposal to the council. As the previous speaker made abundantly clear, we are losing. I provide a way to not only match our opponents, but to surpass them.” He paused, allowing them to read the first page. As the heads of the council members raised up to look at him, he continued. “One of our major problems has been lack of coordination in a fight. Our opponent's ability to scramble communications has allowed them to avoid our traps, and spring their own. Thus, I suggest we no longer use external, and easily jammed communication methods. Instead, we will have a communication network, where even those jammed provide data.” The balding man on his right, his uniform announcing him to be part of the Marines, spoke. “Excuse me, but how will they do that if they are jammed? I thought you were offering a method of communication that couldn not be jammed.” He looked over at the leader of the Marines. “If I could provide that, it would make things easier. However, with this process, there is an immediate notice when someone is jammed. And, with a living “net” of people moving in on a position, we can triangulate the center of the jamming field. Allowing us to either move to engage it, or to avoid it.” “But is it truly necessary to implant it into their bodies?” Came the question from the head of the table. “Unfortunately, yes. For us to provide the updated link, and the firing benefits listed in my proposal, we need to use the soldiers own brain to act as a processor.” He held up his hands, forestalling the mass of questions headed his way. “The process uses the 80% of the brain not fully utilized. There will be no 'bleed through' or brainwashing.” The head of the council scanned the room, receiving nods from all those present. “Well professor, you have a go. Let us hope this works as well as you believe it will.” Initially, it did work just as well as he'd thought it would. Their forces, now formed into "Battle Organizations", were able to stall, and eventually begin turning back the assault. Their soldiers working in an organized and coordinated manner overwhelming the forces arrayed against them. However, as the weeks passed, the enemy became more organized, and if anything, more fanatical. Finally capturing one of the enemy revealed the problem. They had adopted the same process that he had generated, and included an implanted device to auto-inject medicines or painkillers. Working feverishly, he was able to adapt that to the previously implanted device, as well as a new targeting system. Weeks later, the enemy came up with the next round of improvements, the most devastating yet. Their soldiers carried an injected substance that numbed the will, allowing those affected to be turned completely. Suddenly all the captured prisoners were being used against those they used to serve. Weeks passed without him, or his team being able to find any way to counter, or to duplicate that technology. Working late one night, his team used the devices on themselves, suddenly combining their thoughts and intelligences into a mental network. While he wasn't certain this was the best idea, it did allow them to recreate the substance, letting them use it on their captured people. Unfortunately, even what became known as the “brain trust” was unable to find a way to return affected people to their pre-injected state. They were able to turn the situation around once again by linking the “trust” with the men on the field. Strategic decisions were being made all the way down to the tactical level, and implemented with a nearly instant response. He began hearing rumors of disappearances, but thought nothing of them. The members of the “trust” also began speaking in plurals. “We” or “us” instead of “I” or “me” became the pronouns. As all of this was happening, the war ended. A final strike by their opponent, sending a foul smelling gas over much of the population, enraged the populace enough to justify a massive strike. In a matter of days, the battle was over. The Trust, now consisting of the entire military council among others, announced the discovery of the anti-toxin for the plague that had been discovered in the attack. Millions lined up to receive the injection. It was during a standard checkout of one of the captured opponent's men that he made a shocking discovery. He was tied to the Trust's communication network, and had been for a week prior to the launch of the gas attack. Extracting the information, he was able to determine an even greater shock, the gas was simply foul smelling, the “cure” was a means to inject people with the will numbing serum, making them into more people controlled. “It's for the best you know” Startled by the voice, he turned around. The head of the council stood there looking at him in that distant, not quite fully present way. “You will join us, adding your collective skills and knowledges, then we can guarantee our safety.” “NO! I won't be part of some...some Collective!” As he spoke, the body under him reached for his arm, but missed as he yanked it back in fear. Turning, he ran to his lab, and barricaded the door. The pounding started soon after. “Which is where I am now, making this possibly very final entry into my logs. There is hope, for I have found the weakness to them. There is a signal designed to prevent the accessing of higher brain functions. I should be able to send it like a virus through their network. That should force everyone to drop out of the network. However, if this doesn't work, I have included my notes so you can...” As he wrote down those words the door caved in from the repeated attacks. Stepping through the destroyed doorway, the head of the council smiled disarmingly. “Come with us, you are needed to join your knowledge and abilities. We will finally have peace, and be able to explore the stars.” Grabbing the device he'd been working on, he replied. “No, we may have peace, but it won't be your way.” Stabbing his finger onto the button, he watched as those in the room swayed as if an invisible wave had struck them. “Councilor? Are you ok?” Where before a distant look had been in the councilor's eyes, now there was nothing recognizable. “You will join us, you will add your technology and knowledge to our own. Do not resist, it is futile.” Shocked, he simply stood there as one injected him in the arm. Suddenly he felt himself drowning in the rush of thoughts, the cacophony of mental voices. Worse, he felt the effects of the virus that he'd just sent. However, even operating at the speed of thought, he had as much ability to stop it as a cup of water onto a firestorm. His last thoughts were to wonder where he had gone wrong. The units standing in the room filed out. The newly acquired unit, member of Battle ORG 323, bent over to add the Collective's message to the log. “We are Borg, your technology and knowledges will be added to our Collective, resistance is futile.”

Whew! Wasn't sure I was going to make mine in under the time limit. For what it's worth..

Congratulations all, Well done!

“Shuttle craft Blake, requesting permission to land.” Ben heard the pilots words, and sat down as he was requested. All of this was done entirely mechanically, following the instructions without any conscious thought. All of his concentration was with the reception to come. Ben looked down at the letter in his hand once more. He knew what it said, had someone asked he could have repeated it verbatim. Still, he couldn't help reading the flowing script from his captain one more time. “Ben, This letter marks the one year anniversary of your father's death. During this past year, I have done all that I could to convince you of the need to go home. However, one crisis or another has always provided you sufficient reasons to remain on ship. You have made no effort to contact any of your family since that point. And, if the reports I am still receiving from sickbay are any indicator, you have not made peace with his death. As your Hru'hfirh (Head of House) I am responsible for more than simply your presence on ship. Therefore, you are ordered to spend not less than 2 weeks with your family....” The letter continued on, the Captain wishing him well and telling him where his surviving family could be located. But somehow, this first paragraph kept haunting him. Was she right? Yes he trained hard in the holodecks, the closest he could come to the rigorous physical and mental training of his youth, but he wasn't making foolish risks...was he? Had he been pushing to make himself better, or was he punishing himself for his failure to find his father's killer? Ben shook his head slightly to clear it, and sighed mentally. Based on the “coincidental” docking of his ship, he was within a days travel of both his mother and his stepmother. Moments later as the shuttle touched down, he stepped out of the shuttle. This landing area was little used, but was thankfully in the interior of the building, not in the open air. Rationally, Ben realized that it was unlikely in the extreme that the Tal'Shiar would try anything here on Terra. However, years of training would not allow him to drop his guard. Walking out in a seemingly relaxed stride, Ben moved to the front exit of the building. He'd have to acquire some ground transport to reach his stepmother's estate. As he considered the best way to proceed, a shadowy figure moved closer to him. He blindly strode forward, apparently unaware, only to quickly grab the outstretched hand of the assailant. Twisting his body, he began to throw his attacker, only to find his own attempt countered. Turning to face his attacker, Ben groaned. His attacker was wearing a bright pink skirt, a small white domesticated animal visible against the fabric. An equally ridiculous shirt, in Ben's mind, of white frilly material adorned the girl's torso. Her maniacal grin would have sent him running, had he not recognized who was behind it. “Jolan'tru (Formal Greetings) Sister, how has the House been in my absence?” Llunih giggled. “Oh Benny, are you still stuck on that? We aren't on Romulus, last I checked at least.” Ben groaned mentally. “Llunih our customs, our...” “Your customs Benjamin Walker, not mine.” Her interruption was as brisk as the change in her attitude. After a moment she regained her previously sunny attitude. “In any case, Mom's waiting at the house, and I'm the fastest way to get there.” “The fastest perhaps, definitely not the safest.” Ben grinned wryly as he saw the shocked look on her face. “I have picked up a few new tricks as well.” His sister made a face as they got into the vehicle, “Nothing like what I learned, now hold on!” Had Ben not recently been through a mission in a F120, he doubted he could have held back from trying to override the controls. As it was, he managed to look mostly calm as he got out of the shuttle. A look only slightly betrayed by the shaking of his legs. He and his sister had traveled comparatively far into the country away from the bustle of the city something which indicated either great influence or perhaps someone who was simply a great inconvenience. The house itself looked like something from Terra's far past. It had an odd shape to it, mostly rectangular, but with several places where the windows expanded outside of those bounds. At those locations the windows bowed out of the house, obviously allowing better points for reconnaissance. There was a entry point in the front of the building, with a small area for waiting outside. There were several chairs, and a railing around it. Additional support beams held the upper area of the building above it. As he continued examining the building in front of him, a stately woman walked out onto the porch. She moved with a deliberate grace as if each step was choreographed. She tilted her head, acknowledging his presence but the icy coldness in which she greeted him spoke volumes. “Jolan'tru(formal greetings), Son of my husband.” the words were said with no more emotion than could have been said by a machine. “Jolan'tru (formal greetings), Lady of the House of Walker”, Ben replied, his voice cautiously mimicking the tone set before him. “Never that, Benjamin, not in this life or the next by D'ravsai.(Ancient Deity)” A small smile cracked the impassive facade she'd been maintaining. “However, I do offer you the sanctuary and safety of my home.” Ben bowed and replied, “Which I gratefully accept.” He turned just in time to catch the bag he'd packed as it flew through the air towards him. His sister grinned impishly at him as she moved around the shuttle. “About time the two of you got through that, why you can't simply ring the doorbell I'll never know.” his sister quipped as she entered the building. Ben looked in no little confusion as he moved to the room that he'd use during his stay. There was a utility of purpose to most rooms he'd been in, everything in a position to best fulfill the purpose. However, here was many things that seemed inherently contrary to those rooms. There were mirrors, both of silvered metal and fully holographic, placed at many locations. The colors of many of the rooms seemed to be in reds, pinks, and whites, with flowers decorating many of the horizontal surfaces. A glance into his sister's room more than explained the reasons behind that. As he walked, gawking through he house, it wasn't until he reached the room that had been prepared for him that he realized exactly who the former occupant had been. He stood in shock at the doorway as he realized where he was. They'd prepared the room his father had used as a study for his bedroom. Ben felt the weakness rise inside him as he quietly entered the room. All the frustrating hours examining the footage, all the while knowing deep in his heart who was behind it. The endless searches for some additional proof, that final key that would allow him to act in good conscience if nothing else. The number of times he'd violated his oaths to Starfleet in order to try to gain what he couldn't legally. All the while knowing that his father did not rest easily, that he was writhing in Areinnye(Romulan Hell), while his murderer remained free, unpunished. Ben sat down heavily on the portable bed, his head in his hands, while pictures of his father looked down on his sobbing form. Hours later, he moved downstairs toward the dining area. Knowing his stepmother, he'd dressed in his formal uniform. Unsurprisingly, his mother was already seated, her position where it would be if his father were present. He moved to his proper position, hating the silence of the moment. Time dragged on as his sister, apparently continuing a pattern from early childhood, came in late and dressed as casually as ever. “Paenhe(daughter), can you not dress appropriately for our evening meal?” “Mom, it's the three of us, and Ben hasn't been home...” She hastily corrected herself, “hasn't seen us since his graduation. This shouldn't be a funeral.” As the words left her mouth, his sister froze and his stepmother acted as if she'd been slapped. Then, his stepmother turned and glared at Ben. “Obviously we do not have a reason to have a proper funeral yet, do we Benjamin?” The words slid like greased daggers into Ben's heart. He paused a moment before responding. “Mother, I have done my best, but there has not been sufficient proof...” “Hra'vae?!? (Oh Really?)What proof is required? Your father's been dead a year, and there has been no irrhaimehn(reckoning).” Gamely, his sister attempted to intervene. “Mom, please. I'm sure Ben's been doing his best, he's as hung up on mnhei'sahe(Romulan Honor) as you are.” “Lies. If he had done his best, your father would not have died. Or at least rest easily. And if you don't agree, you have no honor.” came the cold reply. “What a surprise, as you have no life.” Llunih got up from the table and angrily threw her napkin down on the table. “Great to see you Ben, you always bring the life to the party.” Suddenly realizing that her sarcastic reply cut too close to the issue, she flushed and retreated from the room. Moments later, the sound of the front door slamming was punctuated by the roar of the shuttle leaving. As Ben turned to look back at his stepmother, she looked as coldly regal as if nothing had happened. “So tell me Benjamin, while you haven't been avenging your father's death, what have you been doing?” Ben cringed at her words as the food was brought into the room. He glanced up as he realized the dishes were those his father had liked best. “I've gathered a great deal of information on the killer, his height and the means used to kill..” “We both know the Tal'Shiar were behind it. What have you done to them?” his stepmother interrupted. Ben paused before responding. “Mother, we both suspect. There is no proof.” She slammed her palms down onto the table, shattering the strained calm. “We both KNOW they have done this.” After a moment she calmed, then in a reasonable voice added, “and if you, or your allies, require proof, then simply create it.” “What?” Ben sat there, completely stunned by her suggestion. “If the only thing holding you back from acting is proof, then create it. Or if you'd prefer not to get your hands dirty, I can create it for you. Here.” Saying this she handed Ben several holographs of a Tal'Shiar leader. “If you look into his travel records, I'm certain it will show that he was in the area that he could have reasonably completed the murder.” “Mother! What have you done?!? This is..” Before he could finish she stood angrily and pointed a finger accusingly at him. “What you should have done long ago. Instead I hear that you are out exploring, and taking some trollop as a mate? Did she have to offer herself to you to get you to stop looking? Or were you simply not interested in fulfilling your obligations?” Fully in a rage now, she glared hatefully at him. Ben struggled to remain calm. “Mother. The woman I will wed is more worthy than I probably deserve. She has nothing to do with father.” “Precisely, so why do you spend time with her and not bring in his killer? Or perhaps you were too involved with her to prevent his death as well?” Those words shot straight to Ben's heart. All the worry, the loss, the feelings of failure welled up again inside him. Only to replaced after a few moments by images of his crew mates and friends from the ship. The anger over what she was accusing them of overrode his own concerns. He stood up, as one part of his mind noted the look of victory turn to a look of confusion on her face. “Mother. Say what you will about me, but not them, and most definitely not my future wife.” “That...” Ben interrupted before she could continue. “No. You will let me finish. Were it not for them I would not be here today. Nor would I have what I need to truly find the guilty in my father's murder.” His stepmother paused as she heard the words. Momentarily she appeared conflicted, her icy calm threatening to shatter. Sadly, the moment passed, and with cold certainty she replied. “Then go to them, you are no longer welcome here.” A sense of loss yawned open beneath him. His rage over her previous words fading as the significance of what she was saying threatened to overwhelm him. “You…you remove me from the House?” For a moment he could see her soften, perhaps had nothing else happened things would have mended between them. Unfortunately, the next course came in, Sesketh, a unique dish from Romulus that his father had enjoyed. His mother looked down at it, and Ben could see a single tear fall from her eyes. Those eyes blazed as she turned to face him. “You are a traitor to this House, and to his memory. Your actions killed him, as surely as if you pulled the trigger yourself. That you fail to live up to the responsibility of those actions only proves how much of a failure you are. Now get out...get out of my sight.” She turned away from him looking up at the picture of his father that Ben, in the tension of the moment, hadn't seen placed behind the head of the table. Ben felt the cold of the moment settling into his bones. He struggled to find something to say, some way to fix the problem before him. As the silence dragged on, he stood and spoke to her back. “As you wish.” He turned and left the room quickly gathering his few belongings. A few minutes later, he entered into the shuttle craft that arrived. His stepmother never spoke another word to him. A few days later, back on his ship, Ben heard his door chime go off. Without looking up he said “Enter”. Ben wasn't very surprised to see the Captain enter into his room, nor was he surprised to see a mixture of amusement and anger on her face. “Mr. Walker, I believe I instructed you to be with your family. I did this as your Hru'hfirh(Head of House), but if you won't listen to that authority, I can have you removed from my ship.” Ben stood up from behind his desk and moved to a comfortable chair, and gestured for the Captain to sit across from him. “Captain, you said I should spend time with my family. That's what I'm doing.” The Captain paused, took a breath, then sighed. “OK Ben, explain it to me.” Ben looked over at her. “There is a reason I named you Hru'hfirh(Head of House). Maybe it was an instinct, maybe it was rushed, but over and over it has been proven true. You are the head of my family. And the people here...even ignoring my betrothed, they are closer to me than anyone else I've ever known. They know me in ways that no one outside of this ship can even comprehend. And when one of us leaves, it feels as if a part of me is leaving with them.” Ben looked up at her, unshed tears bright in his eyes. “Captain, you, and the crew of this ship? They ARE my family.” Ben's Captain looked at him for a long moment, then stood and moved to the door without speaking. As she reached the doorway, she said in a choked voice. “Well said Mr. Walker, well said indeed.” --For good or ill, this piece is dedicated to the crew of the Independence, and those who made me feel part of the family there. May you all know the happiness that you gave me in allowing me into your circle.

“Shuttle craft Blake, requesting permission to land.” Ben heard the pilots words, and sat down as he was requested. All of this was done entirely mechanically, following the instructions without any conscious thought. All of his concentration was with the reception to come. Ben looked down at the letter in his hand once more. He knew what it said, had someone asked he could have repeated it verbatim. Still, he couldn't help reading the flowing script from his captain one more time. “Ben, This letter marks the one year anniversary of your father's death. During this past year, I have done all that I could to convince you of the need to go home. However, one crisis or another has always provided you sufficient reasons to remain on ship. You have made no effort to contact any of your family since that point. And, if the reports I am still receiving from sickbay are any indicator, you have not made peace with his death. As your Hru'hfirh (Head of House) I am responsible for more than simply your presence on ship. Therefore, you are ordered to spend not less than 2 weeks with your family....” The letter continued on, the Captain wishing him well and telling him where his surviving family could be located. But somehow, this first paragraph kept haunting him. Was she right? Yes he trained hard in the holodecks, the closest he could come to the rigorous physical and mental training of his youth, but he wasn't making foolish risks...was he? Had he been pushing to make himself better, or was he punishing himself for his failure to find his father's killer? Ben shook his head slightly to clear it, and sighed mentally. Based on the “coincidental” docking of his ship, he was within a days travel of both his mother and his stepmother. Moments later as the shuttle touched down, he stepped out of the shuttle. This landing area was little used, but was thankfully in the interior of the building, not in the open air. Rationally, Ben realized that it was unlikely in the extreme that the Tal'Shiar would try anything here on Terra. However, years of training would not allow him to drop his guard. Walking out in a seemingly relaxed stride, Ben moved to the front exit of the building. He'd have to acquire some ground transport to reach his stepmother's estate. As he considered the best way to proceed, a shadowy figure moved closer to him. He blindly strode forward, apparently unaware, only to quickly grab the outstretched hand of the assailant. Twisting his body, he began to throw his attacker, only to find his own attempt countered. Turning to face his attacker, Ben groaned. His attacker was wearing a bright pink skirt, a small white domesticated animal visible against the fabric. An equally ridiculous shirt, in Ben's mind, of white frilly material adorned the girl's torso. Her maniacal grin would have sent him running, had he not recognized who was behind it. “Jolan'tru (Formal Greetings) Sister, how has the House been in my absence?” Llunih giggled. “Oh Benny, are you still stuck on that? We aren't on Romulus, last I checked at least.” Ben groaned mentally. “Llunih our customs, our...” “Your customs Benjamin Walker, not mine.” Her interruption was as brisk as the change in her attitude. After a moment she regained her previously sunny attitude. “In any case, Mom's waiting at the house, and I'm the fastest way to get there.” “The fastest perhaps, definitely not the safest.” Ben grinned wryly as he saw the shocked look on her face. “I have picked up a few new tricks as well.” His sister made a face as they got into the vehicle, “Nothing like what I learned, now hold on!” Had Ben not recently been through a mission in a F120, he doubted he could have held back from trying to override the controls. As it was, he managed to look mostly calm as he got out of the shuttle. A look only slightly betrayed by the shaking of his legs. He and his sister had traveled comparatively far into the country away from the bustle of the city something which indicated either great influence or perhaps someone who was simply a great inconvenience. The house itself looked like something from Terra's far past. It had an odd shape to it, mostly rectangular, but with several places where the windows expanded outside of those bounds. At those locations the windows bowed out of the house, obviously allowing better points for reconnaissance. There was a entry point in the front of the building, with a small area for waiting outside. There were several chairs, and a railing around it. Additional support beams held the upper area of the building above it. As he continued examining the building in front of him, a stately woman walked out onto the porch. She moved with a deliberate grace as if each step was choreographed. She tilted her head, acknowledging his presence but the icy coldness in which she greeted him spoke volumes. “Jolan'tru(formal greetings), Son of my husband.” the words were said with no more emotion than could have been said by a machine. “Jolan'tru (formal greetings), Lady of the House of Walker”, Ben replied, his voice cautiously mimicking the tone set before him. “Never that, Benjamin, not in this life or the next by D'ravsai.(Ancient Deity)” A small smile cracked the impassive facade she'd been maintaining. “However, I do offer you the sanctuary and safety of my home.” Ben bowed and replied, “Which I gratefully accept.” He turned just in time to catch the bag he'd packed as it flew through the air towards him. His sister grinned impishly at him as she moved around the shuttle. “About time the two of you got through that, why you can't simply ring the doorbell I'll never know.” his sister quipped as she entered the building. Ben looked in no little confusion as he moved to the room that he'd use during his stay. There was a utility of purpose to most rooms he'd been in, everything in a position to best fulfill the purpose. However, here was many things that seemed inherently contrary to those rooms. There were mirrors, both of silvered metal and fully holographic, placed at many locations. The colors of many of the rooms seemed to be in reds, pinks, and whites, with flowers decorating many of the horizontal surfaces. A glance into his sister's room more than explained the reasons behind that. As he walked, gawking through he house, it wasn't until he reached the room that had been prepared for him that he realized exactly who the former occupant had been. He stood in shock at the doorway as he realized where he was. They'd prepared the room his father had used as a study for his bedroom. Ben felt the weakness rise inside him as he quietly entered the room. All the frustrating hours examining the footage, all the while knowing deep in his heart who was behind it. The endless searches for some additional proof, that final key that would allow him to act in good conscience if nothing else. The number of times he'd violated his oaths to Starfleet in order to try to gain what he couldn't legally. All the while knowing that his father did not rest easily, that he was writhing in Areinnye(Romulan Hell), while his murderer remained free, unpunished. Ben sat down heavily on the portable bed, his head in his hands, while pictures of his father looked down on his sobbing form. Hours later, he moved downstairs toward the dining area. Knowing his stepmother, he'd dressed in his formal uniform. Unsurprisingly, his mother was already seated, her position where it would be if his father were present. He moved to his proper position, hating the silence of the moment. Time dragged on as his sister, apparently continuing a pattern from early childhood, came in late and dressed as casually as ever. “Paenhe(daughter), can you not dress appropriately for our evening meal?” “Mom, it's the three of us, and Ben hasn't been home...” She hastily corrected herself, “hasn't seen us since his graduation. This shouldn't be a funeral.” As the words left her mouth, his sister froze and his stepmother acted as if she'd been slapped. Then, his stepmother turned and glared at Ben. “Obviously we do not have a reason to have a proper funeral yet, do we Benjamin?” The words slid like greased daggers into Ben's heart. He paused a moment before responding. “Mother, I have done my best, but there has not been sufficient proof...” “Hra'vae?!? (Oh Really?)What proof is required? Your father's been dead a year, and there has been no irrhaimehn(reckoning).” Gamely, his sister attempted to intervene. “Mom, please. I'm sure Ben's been doing his best, he's as hung up on mnhei'sahe(Romulan Honor) as you are.” “Lies. If he had done his best, your father would not have died. Or at least rest easily. And if you don't agree, you have no honor.” came the cold reply. “What a surprise, as you have no life.” Llunih got up from the table and angrily threw her napkin down on the table. “Great to see you Ben, you always bring the life to the party.” Suddenly realizing that her sarcastic reply cut too close to the issue, she flushed and retreated from the room. Moments later, the sound of the front door slamming was punctuated by the roar of the shuttle leaving. As Ben turned to look back at his stepmother, she looked as coldly regal as if nothing had happened. “So tell me Benjamin, while you haven't been avenging your father's death, what have you been doing?” Ben cringed at her words as the food was brought into the room. He glanced up as he realized the dishes were those his father had liked best. “I've gathered a great deal of information on the killer, his height and the means used to kill..” “We both know the Tal'Shiar were behind it. What have you done to them?” his stepmother interrupted. Ben paused before responding. “Mother, we both suspect. There is no proof.” She slammed her palms down onto the table, shattering the strained calm. “We both KNOW they have done this.” After a moment she calmed, then in a reasonable voice added, “and if you, or your allies, require proof, then simply create it.” “What?” Ben sat there, completely stunned by her suggestion. “If the only thing holding you back from acting is proof, then create it. Or if you'd prefer not to get your hands dirty, I can create it for you. Here.” Saying this she handed Ben several holographs of a Tal'Shiar leader. “If you look into his travel records, I'm certain it will show that he was in the area that he could have reasonably completed the murder.” “Mother! What have you done?!? This is..” Before he could finish she stood angrily and pointed a finger accusingly at him. “What you should have done long ago. Instead I hear that you are out exploring, and taking some trollop as a mate? Did she have to offer herself to you to get you to stop looking? Or were you simply not interested in fulfilling your obligations?” Fully in a rage now, she glared hatefully at him. Ben struggled to remain calm. “Mother. The woman I will wed is more worthy than I probably deserve. She has nothing to do with father.” “Precisely, so why do you spend time with her and not bring in his killer? Or perhaps you were too involved with her to prevent his death as well?” Those words shot straight to Ben's heart. All the worry, the loss, the feelings of failure welled up again inside him. Only to replaced after a few moments by images of his crew mates and friends from the ship. The anger over what she was accusing them of overrode his own concerns. He stood up, as one part of his mind noted the look of victory turn to a look of confusion on her face. “Mother. Say what you will about me, but not them, and most definitely not my future wife.” “That...” Ben interrupted before she could continue. “No. You will let me finish. Were it not for them I would not be here today. Nor would I have what I need to truly find the guilty in my father's murder.” His stepmother paused as she heard the words. Momentarily she appeared conflicted, her icy calm threatening to shatter. Sadly, the moment passed, and with cold certainty she replied. “Then go to them, you are no longer welcome here.” A sense of loss yawned open beneath him. His rage over her previous words fading as the significance of what she was saying threatened to overwhelm him. “You…you remove me from the House?” For a moment he could see her soften, perhaps had nothing else happened things would have mended between them. Unfortunately, the next course came in, Sesketh, a unique dish from Romulus that his father had enjoyed. His mother looked down at it, and Ben could see a single tear fall from her eyes. Those eyes blazed as she turned to face him. “You are a traitor to this House, and to his memory. Your actions killed him, as surely as if you pulled the trigger yourself. That you fail to live up to the responsibility of those actions only proves how much of a failure you are. Now get out...get out of my sight.” She turned away from him looking up at the picture of his father that Ben, in the tension of the moment, hadn't seen placed behind the head of the table. Ben felt the cold of the moment settling into his bones. He struggled to find something to say, some way to fix the problem before him. As the silence dragged on, he stood and spoke to her back. “As you wish.” He turned and left the room quickly gathering his few belongings. A few minutes later, he entered into the shuttle craft that arrived. His stepmother never spoke another word to him. A few days later, back on his ship, Ben heard his door chime go off. Without looking up he said “Enter”. Ben wasn't very surprised to see the Captain enter into his room, nor was he surprised to see a mixture of amusement and anger on her face. “Mr. Walker, I believe I instructed you to be with your family. I did this as your Hru'hfirh(Head of House), but if you won't listen to that authority, I can have you removed from my ship.” Ben stood up from behind his desk and moved to a comfortable chair, and gestured for the Captain to sit across from him. “Captain, you said I should spend time with my family. That's what I'm doing.” The Captain paused, took a breath, then sighed. “OK Ben, explain it to me.” Ben looked over at her. “There is a reason I named you Hru'hfirh(Head of House). Maybe it was an instinct, maybe it was rushed, but over and over it has been proven true. You are the head of my family. And the people here...even ignoring my betrothed, they are closer to me than anyone else I've ever known. They know me in ways that no one outside of this ship can even comprehend. And when one of us leaves, it feels as if a part of me is leaving with them.” Ben looked up at her, unshed tears bright in his eyes. “Captain, you, and the crew of this ship? They ARE my family.” Ben's Captain looked at him for a long moment, then stood and moved to the door without speaking. As she reached the doorway, she said in a choked voice. “Well said Mr. Walker, well said indeed.” --For good or ill, this piece is dedicated to the crew of the Independence, and those who made me feel part of the family there. May you all know the happiness that you gave me in allowing me into your circle.

I've got one to enter...just gotta get it tweaked. Currently it's more likely to make the judges fall over laughing than anything else..

Um... While I'm glad we have a new challenge...and "the show must go on".... Any chance we could get the judge's reviews for the last one? (no rush...just really want to read the thoughts of the reviewers...*smirk* or at least the printed ones.. )

Hey all, Just wondering about the judge's comments? No rush..just curious..

Thanks all for your kind comments...not sure mine was any better than any of yours...but a little money goes a long way..errr...(just kidding). Nice job Toni...congrats on a great story.. (So...do you guys think beating your ship's first officer here is a good or bad thing? Anyone got a spare ship? *smirk*)

Two men stood in the middle of the galaxy. They could have been virtually any height, with the only points of reference the stars and galaxies around them. An outsider watching them would have noticed the lack of protection, and the fact that they could hear them talk. If such an outsider existed. The younger of the two was shouting at the other. "And I'm telling you, you're wrong! I know these creatures, I've studied them, they will adapt. The harsher the consequences, the more impossible the odds...the more they'll change, the more they'll invent, until they win." The elder of the two in a deeper voice, heavy with amusement, replied. "Would you like to make a wager on that? I'm sure a heavy enough blow, from an unexpected enough source, will reduce them to animals." The first looked over at the second smirking. “The normal terms?” “Acceptable, but this time, how will we determine a victor? I don't want you worming out of this one.” He frowned at the younger one. “None of this ‘Eventually it will work out’” The first pointed through the space around them to a single Federation starship. “That one. That one independent ship will determine their success or failure. Is that concrete enough?” The elder replied, "Done then. Let it begin." ((The event)) Those last three words, so close to the words thought to have started the universe, had a very similar impact, though not nearly so beneficial. With those words, warp travel became a thing of the past. Ships of all types and races suddenly shuddered to a halt. Emerging in real space, their respective crews worked and slaved to find the failed part, item, or device that had caused the crisis. Eventually, all came to realize that some fundamental aspect of reality had changed. The ability to enter warpspace was no more. Whether through considering kindness, or the vilest villainy, interstellar communications remained. As they realized what had happened, some empires rattled sabers and threw forth challenges, while others spoke softly offering submission if only their opponent's doomsday weapon would be withdrawn. And while the diplomats argued, the military despaired. What good a powerful fleet of ships, or unique weapon, when the means to move had been removed. What possible show of strength could be made to an invader who would be gone years or even decades before a response could arrive. As the days spread out into weeks, the ruling forces sent out messages to their fleets. The text changed from source to source, some written with a hopeful mien, military precision, or hopeless abandon. The messages said, "Do what you can. Return if you may, good luck to you all." For when the interstellar distances had been comparatively short, no Captain would fail to heed their superiors. Now, with every ship a comparative giant and none to intervene, only the personal convictions held any Captain to their oaths. The individual planets fared no better. As part of a warp society, each had interdependencies that suddenly could no longer be met. Risa, the pleasure planet, soon fell victim to its own success. Visitors to the planet at first laughed that they were “forced” to remain on vacation longer. However, the seriousness of their situation was all too soon forced upon them. Lacking regular shipments of food, the planet degenerated into a combat zone. Only the lack of weapons on the planet prevented widespread deaths, as the starving people did what they could to survive. Earth, home and center of the Federation, found itself struggling to support the masses as suddenly the infrastructure for adjoining systems was ceased. Terra forming of Mars became a high priority in order to continue feeding the people. Romulus was hit by a revolt as the Remans, knowing the Romulan fleet was no longer immediately recoverable, attacked. Interestingly, the Klingon home world saw the fewest changes. There, where there was the thinnest veneer of polite society, they simply took up the old ways of gathering food, either from others...or by others. ((interlude 2)) "Look at them" declared the elder of the two. "Just as I said, they are turning into animals. They fight amongst themselves, or foolishly bang their head against the walls. They trick and twist, but I see no spark, no invention. Just admit you’re wrong." The other shook his head. "Not yet my friend. First, we agreed on a single ship, and we've not even looked there yet. Things may not be as dark as you believe." The first voice chuckled evilly. "Or perhaps they are darker yet, I don't think you noticed the other ship nearby. " "Wait! That ship wasn't there, that's not fair!" the higher voice exclaimed. "The Fair is in Minnesota, and that's not until summer." came the wry reply. "Now, let's see how your 'inventive' friends respond. " "Indeed" came the surprisingly calm reply, "let's just see." ((The ship)) Captain’s Log: It’s been 3 days since we dropped out of warp. The crew has taken it surprisingly well, just another question to be solved. We’ve already validated that the engines are working correctly, and have tried several of the shuttles as well. We are currently waiting for a response from Starfleet, hopefully they know more about what’s going on. Captain’s Log: We received the message from Starfleet. This phenomenon is affecting everyone. While communications through subspace are still functional, we aren’t getting home anytime soon. The command staff has been told, but not the overall crew. I saw the stunned looks as comprehension of our situation took hold. I have faith that they’ll be able to come to grips in a day or two, then the hard part will come. Captain’s Log: It’s been a difficult adjustment. We’ve had a number of suicides amongst the crew, many after receiving messages from family. We keep looking for a solution, some way to get home. But nothing is coming. We are heading to the nearest star system. Hopefully it will be able to provide us some fresh food and water. We’ve already lowered the oxygen content to extend the life support, and lowered the heat and lights. Not that we needed to lower them, the one thing we have plenty of at this point is power. However, the doctors tell me that doing this will cause people to slow down a bit, lower their level of activity. It should help extend our supplies a bit longer. Captain’s Log: I am beginning to believe our ship has been hit with the ancient Chinese curse, “May you live in interesting times”. As we were continuing our journey, a Romulan heavy cruiser was picked up at maximum range. More surprising was the hail that followed soon after. Despite my misgivings, I admit to being more curious than worried when they asked for a truce. It’s been several days, and they will soon be entering transporter range. We’ve invited them to a meal together to share information. I’ll avoid Admiral Kirk’s mistake with the Romulan Ale however. Captain’s Log: The Ale might have helped. The meal was almost a complete disaster. They had come in with their standard “better than thou” attitude, and admittedly my own officers could have been more gracious. Sniping comments were met with angry responses, leading to backbiting apologies. Short of supplying both sides with rapiers, I can’t see how it would have been worse. We are still in a truce, which does suggest they are desperate. I just hope they don’t realize we are too. Captain’s Log: Well, we’re finally getting down to the negotiations. They want us to form an alliance to defeat the Tzenkethi or Grendellai. Our two ships have more than enough power to shatter all but the largest fleet. And fast enough to run if we can’t win. Obviously we’re not interested in becoming pirates. However, several of my command staff wonder if that was thrown out to test our resolve. In any case, we are already comparing information of local space. Starting tomorrow, we are going to start brainstorming other ways of getting home. Captain’s Log: It’s been a difficult week. No real change throughout. Everyone is getting on the others nerves. We’re going over and over the same things, or wishing for things we don’t have. One memorable plan involved sling shotting around the sun to go back in time. I’m glad I didn’t have to point out that required warp to work. I didn’t want to stop this, partially hoping that someone would discover something, but mostly to give the crew something to do. At this point, I think I’m going to have to stop these meetings. Captain’s Log: I don’t know whether to promote or punish my team. They have an idea…and in theory it could work. A Romulan ship uses a controlled singularity for power. Using that technology, it might be possible to fly through a black hole. Using a number of probes to track the rotation of the black hole, we could plot a course through the center. Then, combined with a variant of the engine shielding placed on the hull, we fly through. Based on the theory, we would nearly instantaneously travel…who knows where. Both I and the Romulan Captain have given permission to start producing the probes. If nothing else, this will give us hope…something we’ve been very short on. Captain’s Log: We completed our first successful test. The probe slipped into the hole, diving through the gravity well like a greased eel. I still can’t believe we’re going to try this. Roughly, we are going to allow the Romulan singularity to expand to the maximum level while being controlled. By removing the normal limits, but having a maximum limit, the rapid expansion will open up a wormhole. At that point, we will thread the unstable wormhole with the materials from Romulan ship’s core. It will temporarily stabilize, and we will fly through. Moments later, the wormhole will completely destabilize, sealing it on both sides. In theory it makes sense, but then again, I’m not an expert on Schwarzschild geometry. Captain’s Log: Tomorrow is the day. We’ve run all the tests, made the upgrades to the ship. Not that the original engineers would even be able to recognize this as a New Orleans class. It’s been about 6 months since we first started working on this refit. We’ve gone through many strange changes, adjusting to the new plans and to each other. We found out far too late that one of the Tal’Shiar was part of the Romulan crew, and lost one of our own in an assassination. His death surprisingly tied the groups together, as the Tal’Shiar responsible was found dead in a…surprisingly painful method with the sign in Romulan and English “Thus always to traitors.” And, equally surprising was the first Romulan-Human wedding, officiated by both myself and the Romulan Captain. Most surprising of all was the meeting between the Romulan Captain and myself. He officially requested sanctuary for him and his crew, and pledged himself to me as a Head of House. After that, many others did the same, as well as an increasing number of my own crew. Well, in case this doesn’t work, we’ve decided to send the information and diagrams to the nearest starbase. If it works, we’ll be instantly transported across space. And I’m told, that with some experimentation, we can modulate the gravitational field of the singularity to better “aim” our jumps. I am intensely proud of this ship and crew, both Romulan and Federation. We have pulled together despite, or even because of hardship. And tomorrow, we’ll truly go where no one has gone before. ((Final Interlude)) “Ahem” “What?” “As I said, they invent, they win. Now pay up.” “Only if they are successful. And anything could happen.” “You’re wrong. Even if they completely fail to transport themselves, they’ve already succeeded far beyond my expectations, much less yours.” “Oh really, and how are you going to twist this one into a win?” “Easily. They’ve found peace and they’ve found hope. Look at them, thanks to someone’s interference, two of the least likely races to cooperate are working together for a common goal. Even more, their example, even as a failure, will encourage others to continue their work.” He gestured across the space in front of them. “Look at the brightening locations. Those are all of the spots that this independent ship’s actions have affected. Over there, a group is looking at sending small amounts of matter through subspace. That group is looking at time travel, there’s even a group looking into cryogenic sleep. And all of them are working together, friend and foe, to get it done. At this point, if the ship succeeds…they are a beacon…if they fail a martyr. Either way, their message spreads, they have already succeeded.” After a few moments, his friend nodded. “Fine, take your money. It’s not worth arguing with you. It’s just a story anyway.” The first laughed. “Ok, how about this. How about a story based on a human, who is raised on Romulus, but chooses to join Starfleet.” The deeper voice chuckled, “Don’t be ridiculous. That’d never work.” “Wanna bet?”

I've got an idea I'm fleshing out on this... Of course, for those interested...there's a book that deals with a similar situation (multiple planet "empire" who suddenly loses "warp" technology). Kind of interesting read. Hyperion, Fall of Hyperion, Endymion, and Rise of Endymion. (Good read either way IMO) Of course their "warp" technology is more similar to an interdimensional teleport system...but... Anyway...good luck all...

Congratulations to all of the winners!

I liked it. Was tempted to write a couple other stories on the plotline..then work had the audacity to require my full concentration....*curses..foiled again* Overall, I'd have to give it a Pi^2 out of 10. (To be REALLY difficult..*smirk*)

Well, I posted my first attempt....to the judges...Please be kind... To my fellow writers...Best of Luck...and may some of it be good...

“Send the shuttle” whispered the voice. Cadet John Williams woke with a start, looking around his quarters. He’d dozed off in the middle of studying for final exams, and especially the dreaded psych evaluation. He looked around further, but, finding nothing out of place, quickly went back to his studies. “Very impressive Cadet Williams. No one has ever used the shuttle in the Koyabashi Maru to create a linked transporter path. You minimized the potential losses, and maintained sufficient distance to prevent a combat. Excellent job!” John was still amazed. He’d heard of the Koyabashi maru of course, but never believed it was still in use. When it became apparent that not only was it still in use, but he was being tested on it, he’d started to freeze. He then remembered the voice from the night before and acted on it. The shuttlecraft was too small a fish to trigger the other ships, he’d even managed to get a lock on the crew before being chased out of Romulan space. “Must have just been my subconscious mind…all of that studying.” John muttered to himself. “Ask her to dinner, Klingon food” whispered the voice. Ensign Williams woke with a start, looking around his quarters. He’d been assigned to engineering on the USS Steadfast. And, as with most ensigns, he’d volunteered for more work than he could reasonably finish. But, the chance to be with the exotic half Vulcan Lt. T’Pree, it was worth it. If only he could think of some way to get her attention out of work. John shrugged and went back to the PADD in front of him, he still had several hours to go and she wouldn’t be impressed if he fell behind. He was asleep within minutes. “Klingon? That’s my favorite!” T’Pree exclaimed in an entirely un-Vulcan show of emotion. The meal proceeded well from there, both sharing at first minor remembrances, then more and more intimate confidences. As their romance continued to blossom in the days and weeks following, John forgot all about the midnight message. After a week, John knew he was in love. After a month, T’Pree was using the same words. Six months and a promotion later, he planned the proposal, arranging her flowers, Klingon food, music. Planning everything to let her know exactly how special she was to him when he “popped the question”. When the door chime rang, he almost jumped to answer it, only to see a very somber medical officer standing there saying there had been an accident. In sickbay, John was sobbing over her body. The burst plasma conduit had mercifully ended her life without any pain. John went over and over the situation in his mind. “We’d checked that location a dozen times, it never even had a twinge. Why now? How could this happen? It should never have failed, it was in perfect order…how could she have died? How?” In anguish he muttered “Maybe it’s better if I’d never even met her.” Later, as the counselor tried pointing out the high points of John’s relationship with T’Pree…he found himself silently repeating “Better we had never dated”. “It’s a trap, pattern enhancers” whispered the voice. Lt. Williams woke with a start, looking around his quarters. His promotion to Chief of Engineering had left him more work than he knew how to complete in time. Additionally, he had to add the frustration of dealing with ensigns who tried taking on more than they could possibly complete. Combined with that, the Captain wanted to transport down to the planet below. There’d been an attack at the outpost, and they were going to investigate when they arrived in the morning. Half asleep, he added pattern enhancers to the list of equipment to bring with them. “Emergency transport, directly to sickbay!” John shouted. The mocking faces of the Romulans who had spread the trap for them, dissolved into looks of disbelief, then dissolved completely as the transporter pulled them to sickbay. “L…lieuten..ant.” Captain Colos whispered. “w…well..done”. The tone from the bio bed became constant as the Captain’s life signs faded completely. John reread the report of the event given by the new Captain, sitting alongside his new pip. The small gold circle, and the position of second officer sat poorly with him. He’d seen the eyes of the Romulans. Had he not been carrying the repeaters, the Captain wouldn’t be dead…Oh they would have been captured…but alive, they could have escaped or been rescued. Now the Captain was dead, and John knew he was responsible no matter what others said. “If only I had just kept a concealed weapon, then we could have escaped safely.” “Do not go down to the planet” whispered the voice. Captain Williams jumped up and looked around. Since his promotion to Lt. Commander he’d waited for a repeat of this event. This time he was prepared for the whispering voice, and turned to see who or what had caused it. However, he was still shocked to see a creature in dark robes standing across the room from him. He raised the phaser toward the robed man. “Who are you? And why are you here?” The creature in front of him laughed harshly. “ No one of importance. Just someone driven to succeed, but doomed to failure.” It paused, “Whatever you think of me though, you know my advice has been sound. You must not go down to the planet.” John gritted his teeth, part of him wanted to accept this creature’s advice. There was something…almost familiar about him. Then he remembered the failures his life had been when he listened. “You! You ruined my LIFE! Every stage, I listened…and at every stage, my life was ruined. Now there are a lot of people down there, and I am going to save them.” “Fine, have your people save them. But don’t go down there yourself.” The creature’s body, seemingly solid moments ago, fluttered and tore as if a great wind blew through it. “John! For all that you care about…donnn’ttt gooooo!” with the final words, the creature pulled the hood of the robe back, exposing hands badly burned, but before it could reveal it’s face, it was gone. John stood there, staring at the spot the apparition had been. After long moments, he put down the phaser, and sat heavily down onto the chair. No matter what else happened, he knew sleep would not be coming back to him that night. John’s body burned. The rescue had been a trap…his own personal, real life Maru. He’d saved most of the people, and all but 2 of the crew, but you couldn’t win a Maru, you could only limit the loss. He was dying. And with his approaching death, he found the regrets that had always plagued him. If only he could go back, find a way to solve the Maru, really solve it. Maybe he could prevent this from ever happening. Or T’Pree…his heart still ached for the lovely Vulcan. There was so much he wanted to fix. Pushing along, blinded by pain and burns, he felt a tingling as he passed through an arch. The pain lessened, still more than enough to make him feel ill, but tolerable. Using a nearby chair, he levered himself up, he looked back and gasped not in pain, but in wonder. Images played across the surface of the Archway. Images of his life, and the times within it. He stumbled over to it, as it played a scene from his academy days. His voice raw and burned spoke barely above a whisper “Two shuttles, transporters” The images in front of him rocketed forward as he saw himself again lose the Koyabashi Maru, but receive an outstanding review for trying a tactic clearly beyond the level of a cadet. He backed away from the image, hoping that he’d be renewed, that he’d prevented this future. But as he watched, he saw his life progressing exactly as he remembered, with the exception of 2 shuttles. Frustrated, he punched the stone archway. Pain, which had fallen back with his excitement rose up with a vengeance and swallowed him whole. When he awoke, he found the images had continued. He was just about to invite the Vulcan to dinner. He whispered to his younger self “She’ll die young”. His younger self avoided the young Vulcan that night, staying as a coworker. This time John watched T’Pree die as a panel exploded, and watched his younger self go through the anguish of loss, without the blessing of brief love. He tried to cry, but the earlier heat had sealed the ducts, so his body gave a horse wracking cough instead, driving him to his knees. By this time, he wasn’t overly surprised at the scene in front of him. He’d played it over and over again in his mind. He whispered “Don’t let the Captain go, keep her home trap” His younger self stammered and pleaded, but the Captain insisted on going. Expecting a trap, he was able to finish off the trap, bursting it from the inside. And no wounded! John breathed a sigh of relief, which ended as on of the downed warriors slide his blade into the Captain. He sat down heavily and watched as the Captain again commended him…and died. “One last whisper” he croaked. This time, instead of leaning, he pushed his way through. In his mind’s eye, he saw him facing himself. How once again the younger him failed to listen. As he felt the vortex that the images of his life had become for him, he saw his broken body crawling toward the archway. He screamed as he realized the loop he had doomed himself to, only to have his younger self pass through the portal. Meanwhile, the machine continued to catalog the attempts of this bipedal, 3 dimensional creature. While sentient, it obviously did not have a grasp of the intricacies of 4th dimensional travel. However, the memories of this creature suggested others might. Perhaps this “T’Pree” would be a good entity to investigate next.

Thanks all.... Alana, I agree with you... after showing it to my sister the english major who promptly showed me the grammar problems...*ewwww* Glad the story was liked though...

Glad someone else cracked before I did.... But now that someone ELSE has asked....When? Huh huh? *grin*

As the door opened, admitting three cadets holding a golden idol in the rough male shape, the Commandant sat back and smiled. It had taken many long years, and constant efforts to bring this class to its completion. They were now a force that would long be respected and would soon go out into the galaxy to make their legends out among the stars. All of them save one. That one would soon prove just how lucky he’d been up to now. His lack of respect, lack of protocol, and, though nothing he could officially take note of, the Commandant secretly added lack of parentage, all stood against him. And today, they would all prove out the truth, that this “Jim” was unworthy to graduate from the academy. As the cadets set it down on his desk, signifying both their success and his, he thought back to the recent discussion with the soon to be disgraced cadet. “Sir.” The Commandant couldn’t believe how such a single word could be filled with so much disregard and sarcasm. But “Jim” knew just how far the rules could be twisted, and when to back off. This was still well within parameters for this meeting, and both of them knew it. “Cadet Jim. As your final task prior to graduation, I want you to bring this idol to your father. On completion of this task, you will have completed the full course of work required for the academy.” He swallowed, disgusted by the thought that this snot nosed…monkey might soon hold such a position. “What’s the catch? ...Sir.” “Cadet, I do not appreciate the implication that this task is any more or less than what I suggested. If you do not feel competent to complete this simple delivery, then perhaps the review board will have to re-evaluate your progress. “He let the glee show on his face, the young pup couldn’t ask in case it wasn’t a trick, the cadet would be thrown out. “Thank you SIR, for this opportunity.” The cadet gracefully pulled the idol out of the bag in the Commandant’s hands, examined it briefly then replaced it and walked out the door, back straight head held high. “Oh no…thank you Jim. After all these years, I’ve got you right where I want you.” The commandant quietly said after the cadet had left. Normally for the last test, it was just as easy as he’d said. It was a mere formality, something to show that you still could deal with people outside of the military. Nothing his vaunted father could make the slightest complaint about. Although, allowing him to succeed…just to pull it out from him at the end…that might be worthwhile as well. “Either way, I win!” he cackled. “Send in the next group of cadets, they have a task to complete for me” On leaving the Commandant’s area, the three cadets split up. One took a casual watch on Jim’s room, making sure no one entered or left. The second used…unofficial…access to the academy computer, getting an image of where each cadet was based on the mandatory communicators. The third, the leader of the group, began planning what to do next. After several hours, watching Jim apparently pacing in his room, they came up with a plan. Dale, the leader had already suggested she simply “stop by” and distract Jim with her feminine wiles. Sandra, having stopped watching Jim’s door for their planning, pointed out that even Jim would be suspicious if Dale suddenly took an interest in him at this time. Mike had suggested a bolder move. They’d start a fire, create an explosion, and open a gas main, something that would force all of them to evacuate the academy grounds. Then, in the confusion, he would ‘accidentally’ crash into Jim, stunning him or knocking him out. Then, either Dale or Sandra would grab the idol, and replace it with something else in a similar bag. As they were working out the details, the klaxon’s starting going off. They turned to each other and all said the same word “Jim”. Moving quickly, they rushed to his room. He looked stunned, too confused by the gasses quickly flooding the building to know up from down, much less notice a quickly done switch. They carried him out the door, and outside the campus. Once there, he quickly regained his senses in the fresh air, and immediately reached for the bag. Smiling they handed him the bag, and allowed him to wander off. They’d won…and the poor fool had thanked them for the assistance! How an idiot like Jim had even been allowed here showed exactly why politics should never mix with academy business. The Commandant, Dale, Sandra, and Mike, all stood looking at the golden statue before them. The Commandant smiling took out a recording device, and began speaking. “So cadets, would you mind repeating what you just told me for the record? “ Dale spoke up first, “Sir, while we were preparing for our final projects as per the manual, we noticed that one cadet had been very depressed and been spending a great deal of time alone.” “And he had an almost obsessive need to be around this statue” Sandra piped up, ignoring the aggravated look from Dale. “Well, we’d better find out what was so important to the young cadet you described.” The Commandant spoke for effect. He already knew exactly what this would do, and while it would be irritating…it would forever disgrace Jim, and the powers that put him into the Commandant’s academy. He pushed the button on the base of the sculpture. “Jim” smiled. It had all been worth it. That he had been able to get Dale and her “gang” to help him complete the job icing on the cake. He typed a few commands into the transporter in front of him, and suddenly felt a lot less bloated, as a golden statue, covered in bloody plastic, appeared in front of him. Cleaning it up, he brought it to his father, Ambassador Scott Walker. His father, on receiving it, pushed the small button on the base of the statue. A hiss of escaping gas was heard as the soft scent of roses and wildflowers filled the room. An image of “Jim” standing there said. “Father, with the completion of this task, I have graduated from the Tal’Shiar academy. I now choose to follow my Federation ties and join the Starfleet academy that I might continue to join our two races.” The image winked out, as Ben Walker, recent graduate of the Tal’Shiar, and soon to be Cadet Walker again, smiled thinking of recent events…and what was transpiring at the academy right now. The press of the button brought forth the hissing that the Commandant had expected, but instead of the nearly lethal gas, a foul smell emanated from the idol causing everyone in the room to cough and gag. Again as expected, an image of “Jim” appeared, but the words were not at all expected. “Greetings Commandant and I can only expect S’anra, Dhael, and Maiek. As you no doubt have guessed, by your words and deeds...I have graduated your precious Tal’Shiar academy. And, as any good host, I’ll explain how I did it.” The image sat down, smirking at them. “I’d love to be there to see the expressions on your faces; although I’m told Terran skunk smell doesn’t go away easily.” He chuckled “especially because someone recently bought out the local stores of tomato juice.” But I digress. You are all wondering how your jihmn managed to defeat you. It wasn’t easy, but knowing the rest of you helped immensely.” The image began pacing “I knew there was a trap when the Commandant gave me the idol, but I wasn’t certain what it was. A message that would humiliate me? Possible. Ordering others to stop me? Almost certain. Something else? Definitely.” “So the first thing to do was, make a duplicate, and examine it. So, I quickly setup a large pendulum in my room, and attached my comm. Badge to it. “He waggled his fingers at the four of them. “Recon 101 people, someone isn’t there until you know he’s there, not just because a comm. badge says he is. Knowing I was now “invisible” I duplicated the device, and examined the duplicate. Imagine my surprise to find out how far you were willing to go Commandant. A gas poisonous enough to nearly instantly kill humans, but not quite enough to kill Romulans? And a message from me saying ‘With this act I remove the stain to the Rihannsu’, killing both myself and the Ambassador from the Federation, my father? Bravo Commandant, bravo.” Maiek had moved to the door, trying to open it, as he approached he bounced off the force field surrounding the room. “By now one or more of you have tried to leave, open a window, or whatever. I simply can’t stand rudeness, and I wouldn’t want you to dishonor yourselves by leaving before your host is finished, so I have convinced the computer that there is a raging fire outside. Now where was I? Ah yes, the ‘tricky part’” “You see, I knew someone would be trying to prevent me from reaching my goal. If it was too easy, I or Federation inspectors after the ‘accident’ would be suspicious. So, I had to be able to sneak it past all of you. So, after preparing both of these, and “he paused” I really enjoyed preparing yours” I entered into a holo-deck, and had holo medical personnel put it inside me.” He winced. “Of course I hadn’t counted on the lack of pain suppressants, which was why I was so “stunned” when you found me. From there, it was an easy fix to reverse the flow of the fans, pulling all the stray smoke from the furnaces into the area.” The image stood up at attention, saluting the Commandant. “I hope you fully appreciate sir, that I could not have done any of this without the training I received here. Oh, and in case you thought I didn’t plan this through…Excalibur!” At the completion of the word, the idol sent out a brilliant flash of light, dimming the lights in the room, and visibly shorting out several items in the room. Not to mention a small golden idol, who didn’t respond further, no matter how many times the button was pressed, or a small recording device that only played back static. Note to the reader: Yup…I intentionally was being tricky. Jihmn: is Romulan for Adversary or enemy…just really easy to switch those And as told in the story above, Dale, Mike, and Sandra are all approximations for their Romulan counterparts… Hope you enjoyed the trick…I’m all out of treats…

Congrats to all the winners! I know they are probably busy, but if the judges could give me some input...I'd really appreciate it. For that matter, if anyone has the time (and willingness) I'd like opinions/suggestions. Didn't figure I stood much of a chance for a first time story...but since I hate losing..*smirk* Thanks for any help, And congrats again to those who obviously don't need help... Walker