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STARFLEET: ORIGINS
STARFLEET: ORIGINS
==[ORIGINS] USS HOOD: Holding Down the Fort...More or Less==
===by Scott Lusby===
SD: 2261.362
MD: 2.1000
Setting: Bridge, A-Deck, USS HOOD
Lieutenant Commander Gar Th'elenth squirmed slightly in the conn. He had
not quite gotten used to the feel of the chair. Command he was comfortable
with...just not the chair.
At least that is what the Andorian warrior inside of him told him, anyway.
"Any contact?" he asked, more hopeful than a real inquiry.
The answer came back as expected. "No, Commander- none."
Gar sat there for a few moments. It had been a couple of hours now since
the Metrons delivered their sunny message, and in that time they hadn't done
much except take the Metrons at their word.
It was time to find out just how accurate that word was- Gar was tired of
waiting.
His antennae twitched in anticipation as he leaned forward in his chair. "I
think it's time we tried to swing the odds in our favor," he grumbled.
Then, the Andorian engineer turned to face the comm station. "Any idea what
it is that's blocking our signal, Ensign? Dampening field? Radiation?
Yoshi Tamura stuck his face into his scope once more, and after a few
seconds, pulled it away. "None that I can detect, Commander; near as I can
tell, our instruments just don't work."
"Diagnostics?"
"Tried that first, Commander," Tamura replied. Everything is showing
green."
Gar frowned at this. From an engineering standpoint, that shouldn't be the
case: if the instrumentation wasn't working, there should be all sorts of
warning lights and chirps and beeps emanating from the station. Sure,
something between the delivery of the information and the error relays could
have shorted...but for everything? The odds just don't work that way...
Gar's antennae twitched again. "Is it possible that it's not the
instrumentation being affected, but rather us? That there's some sort of
mental telepathy or mind control going on here that is making us BELIEVE
that communications aren't working?"
"I- us...Commander, that's a bit outside of my expertise--"
"I read your service jacket; I know you're more than a competent technician.
If you say that our instrumentation is in good working order, then it is.
Which means we need to find another possible solution...and I am running our
of other plausible ideas."
Yoshi nodded. "I suppose it's possible- I mean it sounds logical, anyway."
Gar nodded. "That's all I wanted to hear." He tapped a button on his
chair. "Bridge to Sick Bay."
The response was nearly automatic. [[[Sick Bay here- what can I do for you,
Commander?]]]
Gar glanced at Yoshi. "Apparently, ALL communications aren't affected- just
the ones that leave the ship," he said.
The, the Andorian turned back to his console. "Doctor, could you bring a
medkit and your tricorder up here? I want you to do a few brain scans."
There was a pause. [[[Brain scans?]]]
Gar's brow furrowed. "Did I stutter?"
Another pause. [[[No sir- on my way. Sick Bay out.]]]
Gar popped the switch again, closing the circuit, and leaned back in the
conn again.
He smiled as he glanced again at Yoshi. "I don't know if it'll work, but
it's better than just sitting around waiting for fate to decide whether we
live or die."
<<TIMELINE>>
MD 2.1000: While the Captain and most of the senior staff have their hands
full on the sphere, Gar looks for a way to re-establish contact with them
again.
<<NRPG>>
Good to be back. I didn't have much to contribute being stuck up on the
ship (I know I needed to be since I was AFK for so long)...but perhaps I
found a way to stir the pot a little.
Harry: used Yoshi; hope I didn't mess him up. Feel free to drop in if you
want, but I know you're not exactly in a posting place right now. But
Yoshi's the only other senior staff left aboard the ship, so Gar's going to
use him. I promise not to hurt him...much... ;)
Respectfully Submitted,
-- Scott Lusby
/\ LCDR Gar Th'elenth
Chief Engineer
USS HOOD NCC-1703
Sixth Fleet
STAR FLEET: ORIGINS
==[ORIGINS] USS HOOD: The Little Things You Find==
===by Steve Apple===
SD: 2261.363
MD: 2.1130
Scene: Sphere’s Surface
The landing party made their way to a slope with an outcropping of rocks that was at the base of a clearing.
“If we make for the rocks Captain we’ll have decent cover and the Gorn will have to move into the clearing to make an assault.” Gene Lowl said scanning the area for tactical advantage.
“I agree,” Merrick added picking up a few rocks the size of baseballs. “Our phasers are out, but at least the area provides some natural weapons.”
“Alright make your way into the rocks and set your men into defensive positions.” Steele ordered. “However, no one and I mean no one is to attack first at least not until we determine if the Gorn disrupters have been drained like our phasers.”
“And how exactly are you going to do that?” Corbett asked pushing his hat to the back of his head.
“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.
Corbett made his way up the slope skirting past a couple of red shirts that had taken up defensive positions. It was bad enough he had to give up his pistol, but he had no idea how the hell he was even going to detect the virus let alone cure it now that his scanner and med-tricorder were out.
“Fraking Trill,” he mumbled to himself as he kicked at the ground. His foot caught against something dislodging some of the dirt from around it. Stooping he used the knife he packed in his kit to pull it from the ground. It was a thin small wooden tube maybe five or six inches in length and possibly two in diameter. Something about its shape and size bothered him. It was a nagging feeling at the back of his head that it should mean something.
“Find something good Doc,” One of the red shirts yelled over at him.
“Very much sar,” Corbett said smiling a toothy grin as its purpose finally dawned on him. “Quite possibly the one thing we desperately needed to thwart these Yankee Metron plan.”
“Unless it’s a fully charged phaser I seriously doubt that.” Zade interjected just to add insult to injury.
“Madam is it too much to ask that you keep your slug quiet.” Corbett shouted back “I dare say he shoul…”
“Let’s have it Stile, what has you so excited?” Steele interrupted trying to keep another fight at bay.
“This sar,” Corbett answered holding up the piece of wood.
“A hollow stick that’s what you’re hollering about…”
“I would have thought that centuries of parasitic piggybacking would have taught you civility” Corbett shot back. “But obviously I…”
“Stile!” Jack shouted.
Corbett turned toward the captain and smiled. “My apologies Captain Jack, this sar is the first step to answer my questions.”
“You want to explain a bit more as I’m not quite following your logic here.”
“You have to have logic to follow,” Zade added.
“Enough Lieutenant,” Steele grumbled.
Corbett looked over at Zade and frowned, but decided against baiting her. “This wooden tube is nothing by itself sar,” he said while using his knife to dig out his tricorder’s little view screen glass. “However, when you add this glass to the top of the tube, and Kiska I’ll need yours as well for the bottom. Well sar in a nut shell you get a primitive microscope. A tool I can use to try and discern just what in the hell kind of virus we are dealing with.”
“The Metrons did say everything we needed was on the planet.” Merrick said looking over at Kiska and smiling.
“Identification is the first stage for a cure.” Corbett smiled broadly. “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.”
Respectfully Submitted,
Steve Apple
Stile Corbett, MD
CMO, USS HOOD NCC-1703
Sixth Fleet

Latest revision as of 05:17, 1 March 2011

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ORIGINS: USS Hood Story Posts
Last Updated: 2262.059



Total Posts: 420+






[ORIGINS] USS HOOD: Conversing with Gods - JP

by Brian V. Mansur & Lena Rose

SD 2261.339

MD 2.0750

Scene: Internal Surface, Metron Sphere

Half a sphere away, Sean and Kiska received the Metron's unpleasant greeting. [You have been infected with a fatal virus ...]

Gritting his teeth to control his shock, Sean immediately motioned at Kiska, but did not taking his eyes off the glowing being. Kiska had already turned her tricorder towards him and was punching the controls with urgent purpose.

[The virus will not yet have multiplied to a level that can be read by your instruments Lieutenant Saxman. But it will shortly. You will begin to feel its effects within 24 of your hours. You will all die between 48 and 72.]

Kiska nearly dropped the tricorder in disbelief upon hearing the final statement. Only having worked in sickbay dealing with many unpredictable emergencies and situations allowed Kiska to recover quickly.

Sean, for his part, felt sick already. The Metron pronounced their a surreal death sentence with all the pleasant equanimity of a doctor describing the natural course of a cold to his patient. But if he were expected to enter some grieving process, he was determined to begin with the bargaining stage.

"Your distaste for violence deserves the utmost respect," he placated. "Please, allow us to leave in peace and never return. We beg you not to kill us. For pity's sake, have mercy on us."

[You're impassioned pleas are misplaced energy. There is a cure. It is on this very sphere. But you must find it before your opponents, the Gorn, obtain it first. They are nearby and by our estimation will prove a great obstacle to you.]

Kiska’s eyes brow rose slightly and then she frowned as she silently continued to listen to Merrick and the glowing being that claimed to hold their lives in their hands.

"What?" Sean asked confused. "We bear no ill will towards the Gorn. Why force us into this competition?"

[Because we will have peace in this region of space.] the Metron state amiably. [This shall be the last battle either of you ever fight in our territory. We will not tolerate any further disturbance to our serenity. So if you beat the Gorn to the cure, you may live and we will destroy their ship for you. If you fail, you will die here, either by their hand or by the disease, and it will be your ship we destroy.]

Kiska’s blue eyes registered a flash of anger as she stepped closer to Merrick’s side, but before she could say or do anything, she felt Merrick give her arm a gentle squeeze. She bit back an angry retort from the insanity of the situation they found themselves thrust into.

Sean wanted to shout, "What sick feint at justice is this?!" but instead he said diplomatically, "I do not understand. You value peace and we offer to leave in peace. Why contend with any further violence by pitting us against the Gorn?"

The Metron did not answer his question, but neither did it leave. Sean felt sure he had stumbled upon an opening here, though he wasn't sure how to exploit it. He tried a another line of reasoning. "You seem to know everything of importance about us so I suspect you are telepathic. Surely you can see into our thoughts. We are not perfect but you must be able to sense our sincerity when we say we will leave and never return if you say so."

[No doubt *you* would not. Others, however, would return. They would test the bounds of our patience. Only if they see their comrades experience the finality of death will they truly reconsider the wisdom of violating our space.]

Privately, if there was such a thing to be had in the presence of these beings, Sean agreed that they might be right. He sensed he was losing the argument again. He begged, "Then let their blood be on their own heads!"

[Our will is decided. This is how it shall be.]

A familiar tingling of impending doom crept up Sean's spine. He had one last, desperate card to play. "If the point of this exercise is to prove your intensions, why not just kill one man? Why must it be an entire ship? I offer myself. Let the others on both sides go."

But before the words had fully left his mouth, the Metron faded away, leaving Sean alone with Kiska.

Kiska turned to her Sean her eyes flashing with indignation, “You offer your self?” Kiska placed her hands on her hips as she continued before Merrick could respond. “Like hell you will! We are a team, what affects one …affects us all. There is no way you will sacrifice yourself for all of us!”

“Kiska…”

“I won’t allow it!” she shouted in uncharacteristic behavior.

Merrick felt Kiska’s reaction was from the pent up emotions of shock, fear and now anger at the situation. He calmly asked, “*You* won’t allow it?”

“Damn right!” she shouted defiantly, protocol flying out the door as she stamped her foot. Furious, she looked away.

He placed one hand on her shoulder and gently lifted her chin back up to him. “Damn right, *sir*." He reminded her with a gentle smile. "It's my job to keep you and the crew alive. That sort of thing is not your call…Lieutenant.” Reminding her of their official positions.

“Nooo…no…this is not right. This is not how this is suppose to happen…we only just….” she managed to barely utter. Her lips battled a response but his calm demeanor and closeness unhinged her further. “It’s not fair…”

"Well, we're not dead yet right? We had better link up with the others in a hurry and get to finding this cure."

"What about the Gorn?" Kiska pressed, worry beginning to replace anger.

Sean looked out at the nearby upside-down horizon. A possible solution was germinating in his mind, but he considered it so distant a shot that he wasn't willing to voice it. Not without discussing it first with the Captain.

"It'll be alright Kiska," he said, infusing his tone with confidence and optimism. "It's just another day at the office."


NRPG: "Kiska turned to her Sean" - That was a touching moment Lena.

Respectfully Submitted Jointly,

Lena Rose

LTjg. Kiska Saxman

Nurse

USS HOOD NCC-1703

ASR: ORIGIN


&


Brian V. Mansur

LCDR Sean Merrick

FO, USS HOOD, NCC-1703

ASR ORIGINS



[ORIGINS] USS HOOD: Offline

by Andy Catterick

SD: 2261.347

<old>

“That flying basketball said the cure could be found here on the sphere.”

“I don’t see that we have much choice. Alright Stile I’ll play it your way. You perform scans every ten minutes until it shows up or 24 hours elapses. If it shows up you better figure out in a hurry what to do to cure it.”

“In the mean time,” Corbett drawled. “Might I suggest we survey the rest of this rock and scan every moss, grass, plant and tree around so I can try to synthesize a cure if it shows up.”

<new>


“Jack?” Stile asked after several seconds of silence from the captain.


“Sorry just some internal bickering with myself about us being dropped into another damn test. What is it with all these apparently ‘superior’ races feeling they can pass judgment on us?”


“It could have been worse I suppose.” Stile replied. “They could have decided summarily.”


“At least we have a chance.” Jack agreed. “It is however getting damned tiring have to continually prove ourselves in this manner.”


“You’re not worried are you?” Stile drawled.


“Beyond the obvious?” Jack chuckled. “No. I’ll put our crew up against anyone at anytime. I just don’t like playing the lab rat and having the crew’s lives threatened by some intergalactic busybodies.”


“Captain.” Cedria said as she apparoached. “I can’t raise Commander Merrick.”


Jack tried his communicator with the same results. Trying the ship was as unsuccessful. “Damn!”


Stile looked up from the tricorder he scrutinized moments before. “Its dead.” A quick glance at the captain’s phaser confirmed all equipment was suddenly useless. “Well that should make the cure a bit harder to find.”


<<<NRPG>>>


Hi gang. Still here, but barely. I’m going to continue to have limited time until first week of Jan but I hope to get one or two more posts in before the end of the month. I’d give you all a poke for not posting but who am I to talk. :-/ Still I hope to see something.


I’m thinking that the Gorn will have instruments that work but no doctor and no expertise to diagnose and cure whatever ails us all. The unnanoucned goal of the Metrons being that we come together, get over our predjudices and work together to save each other. But that is not in anyway written in stone so if someone has a different idea they want to run with that’s good to. So long as we don’t get bogged down with too much as we did in the last mission.


Hope all is good with all of you.


Respectfully,


Andy


Capt Jack Steele

CO, USS HOOD NCC 1703

STARFLEET: ORIGINS


NRPG: The Night Before Christmas on the HOOD

by Brian V. Mansur

Fair warning: Adult Content that will have you falling out of your sleigh laughing. This is a polished version of the one I sent out.


Twas the night before Christmas when somewhere on the HOOD A creature was stirring who was up to no good.

The doc was hung. Yes that's necessary to share To explain why five girlfriends about him would care.

The cowboy was nestled all snug in his bed While a lovely young sugar-babe danced over his head.

And Mother in her scrubs, and I with my gun Outside waited for our trap to be sprung.

At midnight in the hall we raised such a shout, That Stile sprang from his bed to see what was about.

Running in through his door, I flew like a bat, Tossed him back on his heels and knocked off his prized hat.

The girl with fair breasts who'd been doc's private show Presently sought out cover for places below.

Then into Stile's bewildered eyes I pointed, And declared in a cadence that was mildly disjointed,

"You've spoiled your last girl you scoundrelous man. You'll do as I say if you value your brain pan.

See this shotgun and this here fair maiden? Well congrats old buddy cause it is time for your weddin."

Stile looked over at Mother and then blithely did say. "If I have to marry her, Sean, I'd rather be gay."

That's when the old fella learned in a right hurry What hell didn't have on a scorned woman's fury.

For from the little old nurse, so lively and quick, Flashed a switchblade which swiftly cut clean off his dick.

More rapid than eagles his curses then came, He whistled and shouted and called Mother a name,

"Gosh darn it! Gosh dang it! You crazy old Yankee! Someone get me my sewing kit and a sterile white hanky."

The rest of the story you can guess how it went In sickbay was doc's Christmas night spent

Not that this lesson changed his vile ways But at least he lay off girls for a couple of days.

And now that this post has been hammered out right, Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!

~Brian



[ORIGINS] USS HOOD: just one little problem

by David Martins

SD 2261.360

MD 2.0850

Scene: Internal Surface, Metron SphereHemux had been standing a bit aside from the teaam as te Metron message had been delivered. The idea that they where infected with a deadly virus made her feel unpeasant to say the least. ON the other hand, these kind of situations made her brain work overtime. Doing so she let her nails glide over her sharp pointed teeth, wich made a rather terrifying noise.

“Oh hell, woman, do you have to make that noise? It gives me teh shivers!” one of the redskirts shouted. Hemux stared for a second or two to him and then looked to her nail “Sorry, just a bit nervous.” she said to no one in particullary.

Then she narrowed her eyes and turned to Corbett. “Doctor, I am thinking out loud, but help me out.”. Corbett nodded “Always pleased to help a woman, what do you have in mind, Hemux?”

ARr’Hianna looked from one to another “To start with, if we all are infected by a deadly virus, as that Metron said, then I wonder if it is a natural thing.” Corbett blinked his eyes “What’ya talking about, Hemux?” Hemux sighed “Think about it, doctor, whatever this sphere is, there has been no human, Vulcan, Trill, Denobulan or Gorn on it as far as we know it. So what are the changes that a natural evolved virus would infect AND be deadly for all of these species?”

Corbett snapped his fingers “I see what you’re thinking, and I would say that chance is about zero.”

Hemux nodded “Exactly what I was thinking. What if we scann all our bodies, check for any trace of RNA and compare that to the known virusses in our databanks. If we rule out any known or similar type of virus, then we have a good chance to find the modified one seperated from the rest. Once we know the virus, we can start looking for a cure.”

Corbett nodded “Good plan, only one small problem: our tricorders are not working.”

Hemux sighed “I know, that is a small thing I haven’t found a solutioin for.”


<<<NRPG>>>

Hi All,

Long time no see, I know, Family and real life is better now, still I am on only available for sporadic posting. My best wishes to all off you!

Respectfully,

David Martens

Lt ARr’Rhiana Hemux

CSciO , USS HOOD NCC 1703

ASR ORIGINS

[ORIGINS] USS HOOD: A Stroll - JP

by Brian V. Mansur & Lena Rose

SD 2261.350

MD 2.073

Scene: Internal Surface, Metron Sphere

Lt. Kiska Saxman quietly stood beside Commander Sean Merrick as he tried to make contact with the Captain's half of the away team. She felt a little embarrassed about her recent outburst. Normally she remained calm and in control during a crisis. But then again these were not your normal circumstances.

She took some comfort at being with the best officers in Starfleet. At least they would have a fighting chance if they all pulled together … even if it meant somehow working with the Gorn. After all, they had each been thrown into the same predicament. Hopefully everyone could put aside their differences and find a cure so that *everyone* could survive to live, love, laugh, cry and breathe the breath of life for years to come.

"I'm not getting through to the other team." Merrick said finally, a crinkle of annoyance in his forehead.

"Then I guess we will have to do it the old fashion way." Grinned Kiska, finding her sense of humor again.

Merrick smiled in relief at seeing Kiska return to her usual sweet, upbeat self. As the others in their group gathered round, he told them what had gone down and started leading them back towards the landing zone. All the while Kiska continued to run the medical tricorder over the terrain. Hopefully some reading or another would be of use to doctor in finding a treatment.

As they trekked on, Sean occassionally glanced back at his team. Yoshi seemed to be getting on well with Ensign Forrester. More than once, Sean saw her reaching out to touch the young man's arm for a few moments of physical reassurance. Sean privately chuckled at that. If they lived through this, perhaps those two could have a beautiful life together.

That thought made him look over at Kiska. Gosh, but she was breathtaking. Those ice blue eyes, raven hair, gorgeous smile, and model figure were enough to make any man's heart beat faster. He couldn't wait to get to know her better. And he guessed that she'd also be happier for some simple comforting touch on his part. He knew

  • he* would. Trouble was, protocol wouldn't permit it. Not within

eyesight of the junior officers anyway. Maybe down the road. He'd be darned if after all he'd gone through that he was going to lose yet another girl. Not in this life.

Something of what he was thinking must have seeped over the ether to Kiska. She said, "Thanks for being calm about this. You're making it much easier."

Throwing protocol to the wind, he put out a hand and squeezed her arm for a moment. "I've lost track of the number of times I've played cards with the Reaper. So it is kind of hard for me to get too worked up over meeting him again. And so far, we haven't even seen anything to really get excited about. No bad guys are shooting at us. We're not dangling off any broken bridges. No one has fallen through a hole in the ground. Heck, nobody's even sneezed yet."

Kiska giggled. "Yeah, I see your point."

It was, of course, shortly after the warm moment that the first phaser blast splintered a nearby rock to pieces and sent the entire away team diving for cover.


NRPG: Less talk. More action needed here. Hey, is anyone else still playing on this ship besides Lena and me? If you all don't start writing soon, I swear I'll change the ship's motto to "The Loooove Boooat! Soon we'll be making another run!" Don't think I won't do it!


Respectfully Submitted Jointly,

Lena Rose

LTjg. Kiska Saxman

Nurse, USS HOOD NCC-1703

ASR: ORIGINS


&


Brian V. Mansur

LCDR Sean Merrick

FO, USS HOOD, NCC-1703

ASR ORIGINS



[ORIGINS] USS HOOD: Riding into Some More Good News - JP

by Brian V. Mansur & Andy Catterick

SD 2261.360


MD 2.1000


Scene: Metron Sphere


Commander Merrick's half of the away team came bounding across the

convective plain of the Metron worldlet. Judging by the look of them,

they had been in a scrape alright. Sean had a burn mark on his left

hand: minor but noticeable. Everyone in his group had that harried

look of people who'd just been shot at.


The Captain noted that Kiska seemed to be keeping in close proximity

to Sean as they rolled in to a stop, panting for breath. But he

didn't have time to speculate as Sean started delivering his side of

the story.


"Ambush Captain," he began. "A few few close hits, but no serious

injury. Caught a glimpse of them. It was definitely the Gorn and if

I didn't know better, I'd say it was harassing more than anything

else. Don't think they can run fast enough to keep up so we probably

have several minutes to prepare. Did you get the Metron's little

welcome by the way? Any leads on a cure?"


"Doc and Hemux aren't going to be able to make much headway without

their tricorders working."


Sean looked confused. "Ours were doing fine just a few minutes ago."

Kiska pulled her's up to show it was indeed functioning. And then she

started conking it with her palm in the age old "why won't this thing

work" fashion.


"You got to be kidding me," she frowned, then said, "Maybe it is an

area of affect thing. We know it worked back in the direction of the

Gorn."


Jack and Sean exchanged suspicious glances. Surely not a coincidence.

"Jolly," Sean commented. "Orders Captain?"

“How many Gorn?”

Sean shook his head. “Uncertain. As I said. Just a glimpse of two maybe three that were taking cover behind some sort of structure. I think they were trying to flank us. All I can say for sure is they weren’t the ones who were doing the shooting.”

“And your equipment was working then.”

“Appeared to be. Johnson,” Sean nodded over to one of the red shirts, “was able to lay down some suppressing fire which enabled the rest of us to begin the run this way.”

“Ok we head back that way and see if we are the victims of some sort of proximity drain.”

“What about the Gorn?” Lowl asked. “If it is confined to a space might it not be better to head the other way?” He didn’t like the idea of senior officers walking towards the enemy.

“Maybe, maybe not.” Jack answered. “Ideally we could break down into small teams and head off in different directions however we are limited by time. But we know the equipment was working in that direction. Any other direction is just a crap shoot. And even if we get the tricorders working its not to say they’ll find the answers. The Gorn on the other hand may be able to help.”

Letting go of Sean’s hand after he examined the burn Stile looked over at the captain. “It doesn’t look like the Gorn seem to be in an overly helpful mood.”

“I’m sure once they get a sample of your folksy charm that will change.” Jack quipped. “Ok Gene, you and your men will lead the way. Everyone keep checking their equipment. The second anything comes back on line we need to know. Move out.” As Jack began to follow he wondered how Gar and the HOOD were holding up. It been long enough that there had been no contact and he was worried just what the Metrons were capable of.


Respectfully Submitted Jointly,

Brian V. Mansur

LCDR Sean Merrick

FO, USS HOOD, NCC-1703

ASR ORIGINS


&


Andy Catterick

CAPT Jack Steele

CO, USS HOOD, NCC-1703

STARFLEET: ORIGINS



[ORIGINS] USS HOOD: Holding Down the Fort...More or Less

by Scott Lusby

SD: 2261.362

MD: 2.1000

Setting: Bridge, A-Deck, USS HOOD

Lieutenant Commander Gar Th'elenth squirmed slightly in the conn. He had not quite gotten used to the feel of the chair. Command he was comfortable with...just not the chair.

At least that is what the Andorian warrior inside of him told him, anyway.

"Any contact?" he asked, more hopeful than a real inquiry.

The answer came back as expected. "No, Commander- none."

Gar sat there for a few moments. It had been a couple of hours now since the Metrons delivered their sunny message, and in that time they hadn't done much except take the Metrons at their word.

It was time to find out just how accurate that word was- Gar was tired of waiting.

His antennae twitched in anticipation as he leaned forward in his chair. "I think it's time we tried to swing the odds in our favor," he grumbled. Then, the Andorian engineer turned to face the comm station. "Any idea what it is that's blocking our signal, Ensign? Dampening field? Radiation?

Yoshi Tamura stuck his face into his scope once more, and after a few seconds, pulled it away. "None that I can detect, Commander; near as I can tell, our instruments just don't work."

"Diagnostics?"

"Tried that first, Commander," Tamura replied. Everything is showing green."

Gar frowned at this. From an engineering standpoint, that shouldn't be the case: if the instrumentation wasn't working, there should be all sorts of warning lights and chirps and beeps emanating from the station. Sure, something between the delivery of the information and the error relays could have shorted...but for everything? The odds just don't work that way...

Gar's antennae twitched again. "Is it possible that it's not the instrumentation being affected, but rather us? That there's some sort of mental telepathy or mind control going on here that is making us BELIEVE that communications aren't working?"

"I- us...Commander, that's a bit outside of my expertise--"

"I read your service jacket; I know you're more than a competent technician. If you say that our instrumentation is in good working order, then it is. Which means we need to find another possible solution...and I am running our of other plausible ideas."

Yoshi nodded. "I suppose it's possible- I mean it sounds logical, anyway."

Gar nodded. "That's all I wanted to hear." He tapped a button on his chair. "Bridge to Sick Bay."

The response was nearly automatic. [[[Sick Bay here- what can I do for you, Commander?]]]

Gar glanced at Yoshi. "Apparently, ALL communications aren't affected- just the ones that leave the ship," he said.

The, the Andorian turned back to his console. "Doctor, could you bring a medkit and your tricorder up here? I want you to do a few brain scans."

There was a pause. [[[Brain scans?]]]

Gar's brow furrowed. "Did I stutter?"

Another pause. [[[No sir- on my way. Sick Bay out.]]]

Gar popped the switch again, closing the circuit, and leaned back in the conn again.

He smiled as he glanced again at Yoshi. "I don't know if it'll work, but it's better than just sitting around waiting for fate to decide whether we live or die."


<<TIMELINE>>

MD 2.1000: While the Captain and most of the senior staff have their hands full on the sphere, Gar looks for a way to re-establish contact with them again.


<<NRPG>>

Good to be back. I didn't have much to contribute being stuck up on the ship (I know I needed to be since I was AFK for so long)...but perhaps I found a way to stir the pot a little.

Harry: used Yoshi; hope I didn't mess him up. Feel free to drop in if you want, but I know you're not exactly in a posting place right now. But Yoshi's the only other senior staff left aboard the ship, so Gar's going to use him. I promise not to hurt him...much... ;)


Respectfully Submitted,

-- Scott Lusby

/\ LCDR Gar Th'elenth

Chief Engineer

USS HOOD NCC-1703

Sixth Fleet

STAR FLEET: ORIGINS


[ORIGINS] USS HOOD: The Little Things You Find

by Steve Apple

SD: 2261.363

MD: 2.1130



Scene: Sphere’s Surface


The landing party made their way to a slope with an outcropping of rocks that was at the base of a clearing.


“If we make for the rocks Captain we’ll have decent cover and the Gorn will have to move into the clearing to make an assault.” Gene Lowl said scanning the area for tactical advantage.


“I agree,” Merrick added picking up a few rocks the size of baseballs. “Our phasers are out, but at least the area provides some natural weapons.”


“Alright make your way into the rocks and set your men into defensive positions.” Steele ordered. “However, no one and I mean no one is to attack first at least not until we determine if the Gorn disrupters have been drained like our phasers.”


“And how exactly are you going to do that?” Corbett asked pushing his hat to the back of his head.


“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.


Corbett made his way up the slope skirting past a couple of red shirts that had taken up defensive positions. It was bad enough he had to give up his pistol, but he had no idea how the hell he was even going to detect the virus let alone cure it now that his scanner and med-tricorder were out.

“Fraking Trill,” he mumbled to himself as he kicked at the ground. His foot caught against something dislodging some of the dirt from around it. Stooping he used the knife he packed in his kit to pull it from the ground. It was a thin small wooden tube maybe five or six inches in length and possibly two in diameter. Something about its shape and size bothered him. It was a nagging feeling at the back of his head that it should mean something.


“Find something good Doc,” One of the red shirts yelled over at him.


“Very much sar,” Corbett said smiling a toothy grin as its purpose finally dawned on him. “Quite possibly the one thing we desperately needed to thwart these Yankee Metron plan.”


“Unless it’s a fully charged phaser I seriously doubt that.” Zade interjected just to add insult to injury.


“Madam is it too much to ask that you keep your slug quiet.” Corbett shouted back “I dare say he shoul…”


“Let’s have it Stile, what has you so excited?” Steele interrupted trying to keep another fight at bay.


“This sar,” Corbett answered holding up the piece of wood.


“A hollow stick that’s what you’re hollering about…”


“I would have thought that centuries of parasitic piggybacking would have taught you civility” Corbett shot back. “But obviously I…”


“Stile!” Jack shouted.


Corbett turned toward the captain and smiled. “My apologies Captain Jack, this sar is the first step to answer my questions.”


“You want to explain a bit more as I’m not quite following your logic here.”


“You have to have logic to follow,” Zade added.


“Enough Lieutenant,” Steele grumbled.


Corbett looked over at Zade and frowned, but decided against baiting her. “This wooden tube is nothing by itself sar,” he said while using his knife to dig out his tricorder’s little view screen glass. “However, when you add this glass to the top of the tube, and Kiska I’ll need yours as well for the bottom. Well sar in a nut shell you get a primitive microscope. A tool I can use to try and discern just what in the hell kind of virus we are dealing with.”


“The Metrons did say everything we needed was on the planet.” Merrick said looking over at Kiska and smiling.


“Identification is the first stage for a cure.” Corbett smiled broadly. “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.”


Respectfully Submitted,

Steve Apple Stile Corbett, MD CMO, USS HOOD NCC-1703 Sixth Fleet

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