Toni

For: Heath West Civilian Diplomat/Bartender USS Challenger

Thank you, for taking time to judge our work. I appreciate the 2nd place win, and thank all the judges for it. Although I feel that my work was ripped apart in the feedback unfairly, I do appreciate the fact that not all of you had a hand in doing it. Don't worry Fleet Admiral Wolf, you don't have to ban me from the Challenges. As much as I love the competition, I won't be entering again.

Thank you, Nerreht.

Congratulations, David. Awesome story. Congratulations on your win too, Nerreht. Way to go!

Toni is on Sigma Iota II, where the U.S.S. Challenger's Away team (in a 1920 - early Starfleet theme) is trying to collect the Federation "cut of the Action" from the Iotians. Kassa, however, is on the U.S.S. Triumphant, and we are battling the Gorn ships as they make their way to DS17. Our mission is to destroy the Iguana, which carries biogenic weapons, before it reaches DS17. Hang in there, Cara, help is on the way. *lol*

So, how are things going on everyone's ship these days?

Cara, your new graphic is nice.

Thank you for posting the Judges, Fleet Admiral Wolf.

Yes, because we can always find someone with a like interest to "type" to at any time of day or night.

Oh, okay. Yes it is hard to be timely when so many of us are online at different times, but we get around to it, sooner of later.

Huh?

I understand, Cara. That's why I answered it. Most times, it's good to know that we are not alone.

Great - then my words have made an impression on someone. Hopefully, a good one. Actually, I was speaking from a personal point of view. In the past, I have used my newspaper skills to write my challenge stories concisely. Rocar, evidently, likes longer manuscripts from what he said in last month's feedback. So I had to stretch my talents to the limit and beyond to write the current challenge. It's not 3,000 words, but it is four or five times as long as my usual submission. I have to say this, however . . . each writer has a comfort zone that they enjoy. One in which they convey a complete story, the way they want to write it. Weather it meets the 3000 word maximum or the 300 word minimum, they are valid entries and should be treated as such, and how they should have written it is not up to anyone else to say. If they don't like the style of a manuscript, so be it, but the manuscript is no less the style of the writer and should be considered as such too. It's like telling William Shakespeare in saying, "To give full growth to that which still doth grow?" that he should have said, "Let your children grow up," making the meaning of his words specific only to child rearing. What a loss that would have been to literature and romanticism. By the way, I know you, Julia, will be a judge, but the other judges have not been announced.

But each time we fail, we also learn, and that makes the "so good," so much more. We are only as good as the limits we impose on ourselves. Stretch your talents to the limit and beyond.

Sure you will, Cara. You've come up with some very good takes on all the Challenges.

A Pretender’s Trap By Toni Turner Prelude The door chirped, alerting Captain Erich Vaka of his arriving quarry. Tweaking his moustache, he checked his appearance in the mirror, remembering the steps he had taken to ensnare the delicate creature he was about to welcome into his lair. A successful man, Erich was accustomed to being the center of attention, and it didn’t matter if the adoration came from his status as Captain, or from his mysterious steel gray eyes, his tall muscular build, or his dignified stance. He wanted all the considerations he felt were due to him, and more. Erich was vain . . . an egotistical man filled with self-importance, who would not hesitate to down play any rival’s attributes, male or female, for his own reward. While it was true that he had worked many years to become a Starfleet Captain, it was also true that many officers had fallen from grace with the upper crust by his hand. The very hint of someone, who dared to vie for his position, was enough for him to sentence them to death . . . not by cutting off their breath, but by effectively killing any semblance of influence that they had, or worse, by breaking their spirit. His ambition was all-consuming, and the deceit he had used to rise to his command, had inflicted agonizing damage to many Starfleet careers. His callousness was infamous in the lower ranks, but still he maintained favor with the elites he had deceived so completely. They saw him as the man he pretended to be, and not the evil man he was. The Meeting From the first moment Bree Durham walked onto his Bridge, Captain Erich Vaka knew that she posed a threat when all eyes shifted from him to take in the wholesomeness of the young Ensign. Even he had found the freshness of her features alluring, and her wide-eyed innocence tempting, but he coveted the attention she commanded, and quickly put a stop to it. "Ensign! You never enter my bridge without announcing yourself," he barked, without a sign of welcome. "Sorry, Captain Vaka, I have no excuses. I'll try to remember the next time," she smiled. Her voice was soft, and a little uncertain. Agitated, he asked, "Try? Did you say . . . try?" "Sorry, Sir, I will remember," she said, with complete sincerity. He questioned her terminology again, "Remember? No, you will do it, or be put on report. Understand?" Maintaining her composure, she replied, "Understood, Sir." Erich sat down in his command chair, appraising her visual appeal. "Ensign, come here!" he commanded. When she obeyed, he spoke in low tones so only she could hear, “Ensign, are you trying to be insolent with me?” “No, Sir,” she answered quietly. “Just what are you trying to do?” “My job, Captain,” she returned. Smiling wryly, he inquired, “And what is your job?” “My job is to obey your orders, and do whatever you ask of me without question.” Rolling his eyes, “So why haven't you done it?” Standing at attention, she replied with an answer she thought would please him. “Ensign Bree Durham, reporting for duty, Captain.” Rising to his feet, he towered over her petite frame, narrowing his eyes, and shouting so the entire Bridge crew could hear, "Get off my Bridge! I will not tolerate your insolence. You’re confined to your quarters!" Embarrassed, Bree fled the Bridge without a word in her own defense. Erich smiled inwardly, and summoned his First Officer. "Put her on report. She is not to leave her quarters until I send for her." “Aye, Sir.” With Bree effectively neutralized, Erich once more found his comfort zone in being the center of attention, but unlike the other officers he had taken down, the innocence of the young woman haunted him. At the end of the day, he summoned her to his Ready Room. As Bree entered, she announced her presence, “Ensign Bree Durham reporting as requested, Captain.” Erich smiled, "Ensign Durham, please have a seat." “Thank you, sir,” she replied, sitting down, folding her hands in her lap. Scrutinizing her demeanor, “I hope you have learned a valuable lesson from your confinement today.” “Yes, sir,” she responded, giving him the respect of his rank. “It distresses me to have to discipline new Ensigns,” he lied, “but I find that it puts their attention on the protocol that’s expected. I’m really not the Bear I seemed to be this morning.” “Of course not, sir,” Bree agreed. “All right then,” he said, getting up from his chair. “I’ll look forward to seeing you on the Bridge tomorrow morning.” She smiled, and stood up, “Thank you, sir.” Erich watched as she left the room, admiring her attractiveness, and thinking of the nice trophy she would make if he decided to woo her. The Shunning While most Captains enjoyed the solitude of eating alone, or sharing a quiet meal with the Senior Staff, Erich preferred the Mess Hall as it afforded an opportunity to feed off the admiring glances of the female crew members, and the jealous stares of the men. The next morning when he walked into the Mess Hall to eat breakfast, he fully expected all eyes to fall on him, but the roomful of people was so attentively occupied with Bree, they didn’t notice that he had arrived. The admiring glances were aimed at her purity and beauty, and the jealous stares emitted only from him. Enraged, he left without eating. Later, from the vantage point of his command chair, he watched every move she made at her console, enviously desiring the simplicity of her charm. He had never seen anyone do so little to attract attention, but received so much of it. Yet, he, himself, added to her admiration, and that bothered him greatly. Late in the day, he leaned over her shoulder, speaking quietly as she worked. “Ensign, I need you to go down to the Chief Tactical Officer’s Office, and download the ship’s specifications.” “All right, Captain, I’ll do it now.” “Thank you, Ensign,” he said, smirking behind her back. He watched the Bridge door close behind her, then entered his Ready Room. =/\= Captain Vaka to Security Chief Williams . . . Neal, come to the Ready Room. =/\= =/\= Aye, Captain. =/\= When Lt. Commander Williams entered the room, Erich motioned for him to be seated while he finished reading from his padd. A few moments past, then he looked up grimly. “Neal, I’m sad to say that we may have a spy among us.” Neal gave a puzzled expression. “I don’t see how, sir. We always do an extensive background check on every crew member.” Indicating the padd he held in his hand, “I know. That’s why this Intelligence report is so disturbing.” He continued before Neal asked to read it. “I think the best course of action, since it involves an Ensign, is not to be confrontational.” “Who is it, Captain?” He opened the padd again, as if he were reading the name. “Ensign Bree Durham, but I can’t believe it of such an innocent looking young woman,” he said, sounding as sincere as possible. Neal wrinkled his eyebrows. “I haven’t met her, but I’ve read her Starfleet Academy transcripts and biographical profile, and her background check was impeccable. I didn’t find anything that would remotely suggest that she would engage in espionage.” “I don’t doubt you at all. Intelligence must have picked up something on her recently.” Erich paused as if to contemplate what to do. “I’ll double check with them to make sure the information is correct, but in the meanwhile, it would be prudent to assign a couple of your security officers to keep close tabs on her activities.” Neal concurred, thinking of the blemish that it would be on his record if she successfully past sensitive information to the enemy. “I’ll find her through the computer, and get two men on it now.” “Be sure to enforce that they are not to confront her.” “Don’t worry, Captain. I will. If it’s true, I’d like to have proof positive before we make a move.” After Neal left, Erich mused pridefully. His cunning had been perfection, and soon, the whispers would start to erode her popularity, after all, he was well acquainted with the ship’s grapevine, and if the news of Bree’s treachery didn’t spread fast enough, he knew how to help it along. For the next few days, he quietly sent Bree on mundane errands into sensitive areas of the ship, raising suspicions as to her intent. Finally, tiring of the game, he set her on a final mission. “Ensign, go to the cabinet that houses the main computer core, and bring me the serial number.” When she obeyed, he set up a meeting with Lt. Commander Williams, asking for a full report of her activities the next morning in the Mess Hall. Erich wanted to gage the impact his plan was having on her popularity. Entering the Mess Hall, Erich noted that the crowd around Bree was somewhat smaller, but not small enough for his liking, so he made certain the table he chose was in the midst of the crew. While Neal gave his report, they talked quietly, but Erich made sure that her name could be overheard. His plan worked, and when he arrived the next morning, Bree was sitting at a table alone. When she smiled to greet those who had been her admirers, they ignored her, passing her by to give him their full attention. Erich smiled, pleased with his accomplishment. The Seduction With Bree’s competition extinguished, Erich began to relax, enjoying the hero worship that fed his vanity, but still he craved more - adoration from Bree. Despite what he had done to her, Bree had remained composed, doing her work to the best of her abilities, letting nothing impede her willingness to meet each day with a smile. It vexed Erich that he had never caught her giving him an admiring glance, or even remotely giving him the idea that she was interested in him, so he vowed to find a remedy for the situation. He approached her in an empty corridor. “Ensign, I cannot help but notice that no one speaks to you. Is there anything wrong?” “No, sir,” she answered, “I don’t know of anything wrong, but sometimes it’s hard to fit in right away.” Erich could not believe how naive she was not to notice how she was being shunned. “I believe I can help you fit in faster, if you don’t mind having dinner with me.” She asked innocently, “You mean a date?” Leaning nearer to her, he explained suggestively, “Not a date exactly. I want you to come to my quarters tonight so we can . . . talk.” His stance revealed his full intent. Obviously nervous, she stammered, “Oh, well, um . . . I couldn’t do that. I’m sure things will work out eventually.” Losing his patience, he presented the proposition as an order. “Be in my quarters by 1800 hours, Ensign.” “Yes . . . sir,” she responded timidly, scurrying away. Conclusion The door chirped, alerting Captain Erich Vaka of his arriving quarry. Tweaking his moustache, he checked his appearance in the mirror, remembering the steps he had taken to ensnare the delicate creature he was about to welcome into his lair. “Enter,” he shouted from the bedroom, envisioning Bree’s anxiety as a victory. “I’ll be with you in a moment.” “Take your time, sir.” Adjusting the towel he had wrapped around his waist, he made a triumphant entrance, immediately making advances that were clearly unwelcome. Bree pushed him away, quietly asking, "Captain Vaka, have you met Admiral Glen Pulzer?" "Yes, I know him quite well. Why do you ask?" From behind him a voice answered his question. "I don't think she meant that as a question. It was more an introduction." Every drop of blood seemed to drain from Erich's face. He turned around, hedging, "Admiral . . . nice to see . . ." Pulzer stepped toward him, cutting into his sentence. "Don't give me your rhetoric. I've heard enough of your lies. You’re relieved of duty, and confined to quarters, pending your Court-martial.” Erich was visibly sweating. “Court-martial? For what?” “Conduct unbecoming an officer and a gentleman,” he said. “Article 15 of the Uniform Code of Military Justice states, ‘A gentleman is understood to have a duty to avoid dishonest acts, displays of indecency, lawlessness, dealing unfairly, indecorum, injustice, or acts of cruelty.’” "But Admiral, you can't tell me that you have never tried to seduce one of your subordinates." “I can, and I will, but if I had, I certainly would have the ethics not to make it an order. That's not all you have done, Erich. You tried to discredit this young lady, and in doing so, you've trapped yourself in a plan designed much like one of your own. You see, Bree only pretended to be an Ensign. She’s actually Lieutenant Commander Bree Durham from Internal Affairs.” Erich glanced at Bree with utter contempt, and she returned a knowing smile.

You also have a fan, David. I always look forward to reading your stories.

Thank you, Julia. I really liked your story too. Introspective? Maybe some of it, but I'm still putting pieces together, and someone else broke the window. *lol* I suppose all writers face the question of mass appeal, but as they say, "You can't please everyone..." I just hate trying to please one who can't be pleased with my work. I'm my worse critic, but still feel that writing is the best way to express myself.

Captain Rhys, sorry that you took the quote personally. That quote was used because of Poe's use of the word "subserviency" (which I bolded and underlined). It was not used because of what he had said. Rocar had said that "subserviency" was not a word, and indicated that spell check needed to be used. I did use spell check in Word Perfect (American version), and "subserviency" came up as correct. The word (or non-word) "subserviency" has also been used to describe Jesus's relationship to God. Toni

Quote: There is not a more disgusting spectacle under the sun than our subserviency to British criticism. It is disgusting, first, because it is truckling, servile, pusillanimous—secondly, because of its gross irrationality. We know the British to bear us little but ill will—we know that, in no case do they utter unbiased opinions of American books ... we know all this, and yet, day after day, submit our necks to the degrading yoke of the crudest opinion that emanates from the fatherland. Author: Poe, Edgar Allan

Congratulations Julia and Ben. Great stories, and a pleasure to read.

Just wanted to wish everyone the best to luck in the current Writing Challenge. Terrific work all.

The Broken Pane By Lt. Toni Turner Between failure and success stood a fragile pane of glass, a mere window into the limited Universe that Ensign Talon Lee allowed for herself. Long gone were her visions of flourishing endeavors filled with desire and the promise of prosperity. Life had become mundane with no volume of ambition. She was content with the status quo, dreaming no dreams, nor aspiring to lofty goals. Frustration had taken its toll, and the transparent panel was just that - transparent and fruitless, yet she clung to it as a symbol of the costly demise of her own esteem. Glazed by blindness, her eyes could not see that which shackled her, and in the senseless darkness, her creativity was restricted. Her efforts were stagnating, and no matter how deeply she gazed out the window, she could not see the wealth that lie before her. Each day she did her duty - nothing less than required, but not one thing more than necessary, and while her crew mates enjoyed the pleasures of advancing rank, she remained an underling, not realizing that it was a subserviency of her own making. In frustration, she blamed all but herself for the emptiness of her fate, and when that fault was deemed to be the window’s, she lashed out, smashing it against the stony ground of her idleness. In the horror of the moment, she stared at what she had done. Her one hope was now shattered, and her window closed. She fell to her hands and knees, wailing one question over and over, "What have I done? What have I done?" Then mindless of the shards that sliced into her skin, she wept hopelessly, until no more tears could be shed. Her swollen eyes opened, and she stared down at the blood-stained prisms, mindful of their significance. Broken as they were, they represented her only window, and she would have to find the humility to put them back together. Gathering all the pieces before her, she began to place each one back into the casing. The first ruby segment, sparkled with truth, the reality that she was sole designer of her own destiny. As she slipped it into place, she took responsibility for the kaleidoscope to come. Forgiveness glowed from within each consecutive piece, until she could pardon herself for deeds left undone, and make amends. Using the resourcefulness of the tiny slivers, tasks, before overlooked, were accomplished. With the placement of each fragile fleck came knowledge and honor that she use to right the injustice she had reeked on others and herself, and the restraints that had held Talon’s life prisoner began to unwind. Mending the window with chips of compassion, gratitude, and generosity, the pane became stable, and a more pleasing tribute to the beholder. Through it, she witnessed the goodness of others, felt the joy of giving and receiving loyalty, and experienced the honesty of her emotions. She gave unselfishly, and although she asked nothing in return, the vastness of her portal’s scope replenished itself tenfold in the happiness of serving. When finally, after years of labor, the window was complete, and every shard was in place, Talon gazed through its glistening beauty with wisdom, and saw the validity of pouring blood, sweat and tears into meaningful work. She had become a guardian of peace, a champion of goals, and possessed the insight of true accomplishment. The pane of glass was no longer the fragments of what could have been. It was now the sum total of what Captain Talon Lee had been destined to be, and she was pleased.

*roflmao* Guess the interputation between "poison" and "poisoned" did leave the reader lost, especially if they were looking to be poisoned, rather than finding the poison between the characters, which was found in every description of their words. I can live with that. Thanks for the nice write up.

Congratulations Aresee Ventu and David Cody...WAY TO GO! Totally awesome work. Good Job to all the rest too. I really enjoyed all the stories.