ORIGINS: USS Hood January 2011: Difference between revisions

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[ORIGINS] 6th/12th Fleet: The Year Ahead
==[ORIGINS] 6th/12th Fleet: The Year Ahead==
===by Andy Catterick & Alton RIchter


SD: 2262.001, 0908 hours - Starbase 12 - RADM T'lar's Office
SD: 2262.001, 0908 hours - Starbase 12 - RADM T'lar's Office
Line 263: Line 264:
CO, USS HOOD NCC 1703
CO, USS HOOD NCC 1703
STARFLEET: ORIGINS
STARFLEET: ORIGINS
==[ORIGINS] USS HOOD: Medical Factors==
===by Brian V. Mansur===
SD 2262.015
MD 2.1010
Scene: Metron Sphere
"Watch the boulder cluster on the left," Merrick said over his comm line.
Whatever was causing their tricorders and communicators to blink out, they were
far enough from it now to send signals to each other. And something told Sean
that meant they were probably close enough to be fired at by some Gorn.
"Not seeing any movement," the redshirt reported. "Tricorder is still not
getting much range. I think I'm probably reading clear up to about 12 meters or
so."
"Peachy." Sean said, "I'll take it." He looked behind him to Kiska who was
following close at his back and trying not to be a target. She held up her own
device to scan him. After a few moments, Sean asked, "Well, will I live?"
Kiska flashed him a "that's not funny" kind of glare and then frowned at her
readings. Sean took note of her reaction and realized he'd have to be a bit
careful with his quirky sense of humor when the object her affection was in
mortal peril. He put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "It'll be okay," he
assured her.
This time she glanced up at him with softer eyes. "Thanks, that's better," she
said. Sean suppressed a laugh. He felt like he was owed a doggie biscuit or
something. Maybe if he'd been this responsive with Jeri …. He ruthlessly
shut down that line of futile thinking. All he needed to do, all he could do,
was make sure he did things right from the beginning with this girl.
He saw the worried shift in her expression before she could hide it. "Like I
said, it will be okay," he said again, but the words held noticeably less
conviction.
Kiska took a deep breath. "You have it. But in a few minutes," she added
quickly, "I should have its DNA code mapped." They both knew that the biochem
algorithms would then take their shot at modeling a cure.
"Team," Sean ordered over the net. Hold positions. We're getting things
figured out over here. Even as he said it, Kiska began scanning herself. After
a few moments she looked up, puzzled.
"I don't have it," she seemed both frightened and relieved. Sean could
understand the later emotion but wondered at the former. Maybe she was worried
about being left alone if everyone else died?
"Let's scan the others quick," he said. Moving from position to position, in
short order they had their answer. She was the only one clear of the damned
thing.
"Okay, so why then?" Sean asked aloud.
Kiska started running through the possibilities as they came to mind. "Blood
factors? Some genetic trait? Maybe some gender difference? I'm the only woman
here to scan. Maybe I have an antibody to something similar."
"Shouldn't the tricorder be able to analyze all that?" Sean wondered.
"Maybe. I'll give it a try."
Respectfully Submitted,
Brian V. Mansur
LCDR Sean Merrick
FO, USS HOOD, NCC-1703
ASR ORIGINS
Sent from my iPod

Revision as of 23:06, 28 February 2011

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ORIGINS: USS Hood Story Posts
Last Updated: 2262.059



Total Posts: 420+






[ORIGINS] 6th/12th Fleet: The Year Ahead

===by Andy Catterick & Alton RIchter

SD: 2262.001, 0908 hours - Starbase 12 - RADM T'lar's Office

Admiral T'lar sat at her desk drumming her fingers on her desk while the Starfleet logo glowed in the middle of the display in front of her. She browsed the information on the tablet in her other hand between glances at the display. After a few minutes, the display flickered and she saw Vice Admiral Mitch Corrigan, in his bathrobe settling in his chair.

"Good morning Admiral Corrigan," T'lar said, "did you forget about our weekly Wednesday morning conference?"

"Morning T'lar. It's New Year's Day," Mitch replied. He was nursing a pounding head and was wondering if he’d make it through the meeting without having to rush to the head.

"I am aware of that Mitch. I lit some incense last night and meditated on the events of the past year. The birth of my daughter Vehla was foremost in my thoughts. Then my partner and I engaged in coitus."

Leave it to T'lar to make something intimate sound like docking a shuttle. "Last night, I was at a party where there was wine and hors d'oeuvres. And some other things that I'm not clear on. I'm not operating on much sleep here."

T'lar glanced at the chronometer and did some math, "You should be operating on approximately 9 hours and 5 minutes of sleep."

Mitch thought briefly about arguing with her, but remembered their long association and knew it was futile. When he was a freshman at the Academy, T'lar was an upperclassman and Cadet officer. She had a well deserved reputation as a ball buster.

T'lar looked at Mitch and knew that he was considering arguing with her. He was not always logical, but he had done well by following his gut.

An arm reached into the picture and placed a steaming mug of coffee on his desk. Mitch looked up and said, "Thank you." He looked back at T'lar, "Ok, let's get this done."

"Border outposts 16 and 17 came on line this week. There are still some holes that I am plugging with picket ships, but the entire network is scheduled to be operational within 3 months. It will provide us with a marginal ability to detect a cloaked ship attempting to penetrate our border."

"You're really concerned about the Romulans attacking."

"It is the only logical thing for them to do. They are aware that at some point in the future Starfleet will contribute to the destruction of Romulus. A first strike is inevitable."

Mitch nodded. “The damn LEXINGTON fiasco surely won’t help the situation.” Mitch growled before taking a gulp of his coffee. “And I am still praying that Rafe will be able to pull it out of the fire.” Currently LEXINGTON was being used as a high profile diplomatic courier as she ferried the out going Romulan Ambassador to the Federation to rendezvous with a RSN ship in the neutral zone. The problem was that the ambassador had been murdered in his stateroom. Mitch involuntarily checked the chrono though he had no need to do so. He had not heard anything from Captain Rafe in twelve hours and LEXINGTON was due to make the drop off in another two. He didn’t envy Captain Rafe’s conversation with his Romulan counterpart.

“I take it Romulus still has not been informed of the events that have transpired.” T’lar asked dryly leaving Mitch with a sense that she was enjoying this predicament.

“No. Command has clamped down on it and is leaving it to Captain Rafe to deal with. They actually ordered me not to make any contact on my own. Officially they are worried that communications might be intercepted and this could lead to instability.” As if the shock of finding out at the last second that one of your top ambassador’s, one who was indirectly related to the praetor, was murdered aboard a Starfleet vessel. Mitch had a firm suspicion that someone in command was looking to make this a crisis rather then diffuse one. He also chose to ignore the next logical step in that argument.

"This development makes the INTREPID's mission even more important. Ambassador Thompson must succeed in convincing the Arcturans that it is in their best interest to allow us to place outposts along their border with the Romulans," T'lar said.

"What do you think the odds of success are?" Mitch asked.

"It is difficult to say," T'lar said grimly. "I sense that they know I consider their cooperation vital. Without them, our flank is exposed to a Romluan attack that comes through Arcturan space. They will undoubtedly want something significant in return. I can only hope that it is something we can afford to give."

Mitch leaned back in his chair and glared at the ceiling. “I don’t like this T’lar. I don’t like this one frakkin bit. Romulus is a powder keg waiting to blow, the Klingons tried that unofficial probe, the Arcturans are at best trying to cut their most favorable deal with us and at worst playing games, even the Orions are getting uppity now that they seem to have some sort of back channel dialogue with the Tholians and now we’ve gotten the Gorn getting restless on the border out by Cestus.”

T’Lar’s eyes narrowed slightly. “The Gorn?”

Mitch nodded, his eyes returning to stare at his monitor. “Long range sensor buoys picked up a large object crossing over the border from Gorn space. I sent HOOD out for a look around. Their last report confirmed it was a derelict space station of some type and they were making preparations to board and explore. No updates since and the same sensor buoys intercepted increased Gorn transmissions in that sector before they went offline.”

“That is troubling.” The Vulcan conceded.

“I’ve sent FEYNMAN and CALLISTO to investigate but they are three days away and if HOOD can’t handle it I don’t know what a couple of tin cans are going to do.” He paused and drummed his fingers along his desk. “Too many balls in the air T’lar. Something has to give.”

If she were human she might have sighed. “Mitch we were aware of the explosive nature of this region. That’s is why our fleets have been placed here. It, and regions like it, were the impetuous for the CONSTITUTION program. We need only use them to their potential.”

For a moment Mitch looked like he was going to explode but in the end he chuckled. “I will not be drawn into this argument with you again. While we agree on the advantage of these ships I don’t think we will ever agree on their potential.”

Respectfully submitted,

VADM Mitch Corrigan - CO 6th Fleet - Andy

RADM T'lar - CO 12th Fleet - Alton



[ORIGINS] USS HOOD: Ready for a Fight

by David Kiel

<from The Little Things You Find>

"Zade is going to use that antique you keep strapped to your leg to let them know we're not push over's."

Corbett's mouth opened in response, but Steele beat him to it. "Stow it doc, she's the best shot we have and you need to focus your attention on a cure."

"Give it up Texan," Zade said sharply as she held out her hand.

Reluctantly Corbett pulled up his left trouser leg and retrieved his prize colt from its ankle holster and handed it to her.

"Don't worry your precious toy will be safe." She smiled knowing this was killing him.

"First my hat and now my pistol - soiled by Yankee hands. I just hope my great granddaddy is not turning over in his grave." With as much grace as he could muster Corbett turned and headed up the rocky slope.

"We're seriously not trusting our fate to his finding a cure are we." Zade whispered to the captain.

"As scary as this sounds," Steele responded as he watched Corbett make his way up the slope.

"Right now he's probably the only one who can figure this out."

"We're doomed," Zade mumbled as she went to take up a defensive position. <end snip>

Zade turned back to the Captain after the good Doctor had mumbled his way out of range of hearing, and a Vulcans hearing at that, just to be extra sure. She handed him the strange weapon he had made Stile give her. "By the way I can't hit the broad side of an agro-dome with a phaser much less this thing."

Stile looked flummoxed. "But, if you can't use it why did you take it?"

"Did you see the look in his eyes, it was classic. Next time make him give me his hat." Cedria smirked and chuckled to herself, deep green eyes flashing with mischief.

"I thought you were a triple rated shot, academy champion?"

"With ship's weapons yes, that's arc, gravitation, magnetic interference and subspace drift. Simple differential mathematics, I've been practicing that for a couple hundred years. I saw those things in the year I spent fighting the Alamo, they have kickback and make a lot of noise. Id be as likely to shoot any of us with that thing as a Gorn."

Steele pocketed the weapon and considered, "perhaps you can better help Corbett then?"

"No, no, no. Let not get crazy." Cedria reached over her shoulder and drew the meter long blade she had strapped to her back. "I'd wager I can do more damage with this then you can manage with that peashucker of Stile's."

"Peashooter."

"Whatever, I tried not to learn Texas slang while I was stuck there."


NRPG: Here's the right one. I blame it on the shiny new Christmas computer that doesn't have all of my old favorites and programs and also on the ship's Doctor and Texans in general.

Respectfully submitted;

David Kiel

Lt Cedria Zade,

NAV, USS HOOD NCC-1703

ASR: ORIGINS



[ORIGINS] USS HOOD: Back to the Line

by Brian V. Mansur

SD 2262.006

MD 2.1132

Scene: Metron Sphere

<NRPG: Picking up from "The Little Things You Find">

The Metrons did say everything we needed was on the planet." Merrick said looking over at Kiska and smiling. He wondered if she caught his oblique meaning.

Corbett smiled broadly as well. "Identification is the first stage for a cure. Saxman and I can rig up crude plates to view blood samples under. From now on we shall have to do things the old fashion way."

"One question though doc," Sean put in. "Viruses are too small for light microscopes to resolve. Even very hi-mag ones as I recall."

"True," the cowboy winked, "But you can still tell a lot about a bug by what it is doing to a specimen. In any case, it gives us a way to test cures. Maybe the stuff growing around here will inhibit the bug's growth. We'll just have to test things and find out."

"With only 24 hours before we start getting symptoms," Sean mused.

"I know it sounds absurd, but I have an idea cooking that just may make it possible to get a handle on what we're dealing with." Corbett responded more for himself than anyone else around him.

"Any half-decent ideas are welcome now," Steele said coming over to join the conversation.

"We could send a scouting team back to where the equipment was last working," Sean proposed after deciding the doctor was not going to elucidate on his idea just yet.

"That means confronting the Gorn in the open," Steele pointed out warily.

"Maybe," Sean admitted with a nod, "But then again, they haven't followed us this far yet. Perahps they've even pulled back."

For several moments, Sean wasn't sure the CO would agree to the plan. Then Jack looked between Zade and Corbett and sighed at the thought of having to ride herd on them while the XO went off with his new girlfriend. "Aw hell," he finally said. Whatever you do, don't get killed. And don't fire first if the phasers start working. Take Saxman to run the medcorder along with four of the redshirts."

"Right," Sean said, grinning at the chance to stay with the lovely Kiska.

"And try flanking your way into where things last worked. At least you might be less likely to be spotted."

NRPG: Rearranging things.

Respectfully Submitted Jointly,

Brian V. Mansur

LCDR Sean Merrick

FO, USS HOOD, NCC-1703

ASR ORIGINS


[ORIGINS] USS HOOD: Desperate Times

by Andy Catterick

SD: 2262.015

Scene: Derliect Station


"Report!" The Gorn commander ordered as her subordinate returned from the observation post.

The executive officer's eye lids flickered quickly at the tone in his commander's voice but he chose to ignore the tone. Not that it mattered, he was the subordinate and his commander could address him in any fashion he chose. "Their advance guard has stopped and taken up what appears to be a defensive position. The main body is grouped together." He said in clear derision at the enemies foolishness. "One motar would kill them all." He hissed.

The Gorn commander turned to look in the direction of the Terrans before turning back to her executive officer. "I will remind you again we are not at war with these beings." *Not yet* she added to herself. "There will be no more attacks unless I authorize it. I will not remind you again."

The exec lowered his head. "Understood commander."

"Besides," She relented a little understandting her subordinate's frustration. "We do not have a mortar."

He looked up at her again and both smiled. Neither could admit there growing frustration at their current situation was slowly turning into worry. They had been snatched away from their warship more then 48 hours. They had no food and no weapons save for their personal side arms. And already two of their group had fallen into a coma from some sort of illness that these mysterious Metrons had afflicted them with. The Metron had told them they must find a cure or all die. But they were not scientists they were warriors. Unfortunately they were warriors who were going to die. He turned his head to face the unseen Terrans certain that this was some sort of trickery on their part. He knew his commander did not share this belief. It was unlike her to be so trusting. He turned back to her as she began to speak.

"I will go and see these Terrans. You will be in command while I am gone. If there is any treachery, kill them all."

"Yes commander!" He acknowledged. He knew she was walking to her death. These Terrans could not be trusted. But no matter once they killed her, and surely they would. He would avenge her and feast on their meat.


<<<NRPG>>>


C'mon guys things were on a roll after the holidays lets not let it drift off again.

Respectfully, Andy CAPT Jack Steele CO, USS HOOD NCC 1703 STARFLEET: ORIGINS


[ORIGINS] USS HOOD: Medical Factors

by Brian V. Mansur

SD 2262.015

MD 2.1010

Scene: Metron Sphere

"Watch the boulder cluster on the left," Merrick said over his comm line. Whatever was causing their tricorders and communicators to blink out, they were far enough from it now to send signals to each other. And something told Sean that meant they were probably close enough to be fired at by some Gorn.

"Not seeing any movement," the redshirt reported. "Tricorder is still not getting much range. I think I'm probably reading clear up to about 12 meters or so."

"Peachy." Sean said, "I'll take it." He looked behind him to Kiska who was following close at his back and trying not to be a target. She held up her own device to scan him. After a few moments, Sean asked, "Well, will I live?"

Kiska flashed him a "that's not funny" kind of glare and then frowned at her readings. Sean took note of her reaction and realized he'd have to be a bit careful with his quirky sense of humor when the object her affection was in mortal peril. He put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "It'll be okay," he assured her.

This time she glanced up at him with softer eyes. "Thanks, that's better," she said. Sean suppressed a laugh. He felt like he was owed a doggie biscuit or something. Maybe if he'd been this responsive with Jeri …. He ruthlessly shut down that line of futile thinking. All he needed to do, all he could do, was make sure he did things right from the beginning with this girl.

He saw the worried shift in her expression before she could hide it. "Like I said, it will be okay," he said again, but the words held noticeably less conviction.

Kiska took a deep breath. "You have it. But in a few minutes," she added quickly, "I should have its DNA code mapped." They both knew that the biochem algorithms would then take their shot at modeling a cure.

"Team," Sean ordered over the net. Hold positions. We're getting things figured out over here. Even as he said it, Kiska began scanning herself. After a few moments she looked up, puzzled.

"I don't have it," she seemed both frightened and relieved. Sean could understand the later emotion but wondered at the former. Maybe she was worried about being left alone if everyone else died?

"Let's scan the others quick," he said. Moving from position to position, in short order they had their answer. She was the only one clear of the damned thing.

"Okay, so why then?" Sean asked aloud.

Kiska started running through the possibilities as they came to mind. "Blood factors? Some genetic trait? Maybe some gender difference? I'm the only woman here to scan. Maybe I have an antibody to something similar."

"Shouldn't the tricorder be able to analyze all that?" Sean wondered.

"Maybe. I'll give it a try."

Respectfully Submitted, Brian V. Mansur LCDR Sean Merrick FO, USS HOOD, NCC-1703 ASR ORIGINS


Sent from my iPod

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