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<div style="float:right; margin-top: 5px; padding-right: 200px;">[[Image:FEYNMAN PATCH DRAFT2.png|450px|FEYNMAN Shoulder Patch|center]]</div>
<div style="float:right; margin-top: 5px; padding-right: 200px;">[[Image:FEYNMAN PATCH DRAFT2.png|450px|FEYNMAN Shoulder Patch|center]]</div>


<font style="font-size: large; font-stretch: expanded; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">TOTAL AUGUST 1997 POSTS: *TBD*</font>
<font style="font-size: large; font-stretch: expanded; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">TOTAL AUGUST 1997 POSTS: 18</font>
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Kytan Duandir XO HRSS St. Jude<br>
Kytan Duandir XO HRSS St. Jude<br>
mdawe@islandnet.com<br>
mdawe@islandnet.com<br>
<h3 style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">USS FEYNMAN: Tallyho!</h3>
<h4 style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">by
Andrew Catterick 8-4-1997</h4>
SD:90804.1430<br>
<i>
>For an instant everyone remained still, most had never heard the low<br>
>pitch whine before, but then a calm voice confirmed the alert. "Red<br>
>Alert! Red Alert! All hands to battle stations, this is not a drill, I<br>
>repeat, this is not a drill." The admiral moved to the podium. "It<br>
>seems some of our new neighbours have come calling and they don’t seem<br>
>the friendly type. You have enough time to beam out to your ships.<br>
>Make it fast."<br>
</i>
Zane hit his commbadge. "Zane to FEYNMAN. Begin emergency beamout of
all FEYNMAN Personnel. Lock on to my signal and the eight around me and
beam directly to the bridge."
Materializing on the bridge of the FEYNMAN Zane was met with controlled
chaos as junior officers made way at their stations for their
superiors. "Status." Zane ordered as he lowered himself into his
chair.
"Multiple inbounds emerging from the sack at gridpoint 38-ai2. Variety
of classes ranging from fighters to corvettes."
"Close the distance Mr. Jerran."
"Aye sir, coming round to 313 mark 79 increasing speed to full
impulse." In the background the chatter of fighters and Starfleet
vessels filled the bridge.
"Tactical." The main viewscreen flashed to show the graphic
representation of what was happening. "They don’t seem to be heading
for the base." Zane said.
"Decided to get us out of the way and then have carte blanche on
ZINDERNEUF?" Maril didn’t sound convinced. The enemy was going to have
a hard enough time dealing with TFZ, the DEFENDER and various fighter
wings. If by some act of the gods a sizable portion managed to survive
a victory against the Starfleet ships they would surely find the
defenses of the outpost formidable.
Already the lead elements of the two forces had smashed into each other
and small explosions flashed amongst the twisting and turning fighters
trying to gain the advantage on each other. Any semblance of order that
the two fleets might have had had already been lost.
The ship rocked as an enemy fighter trying to get away from a pursuer
deflected off of FEYNMAN’s shields Before being impaled by phaser fire
from two marine fighters.
"No damage, shields holding." Allard confirmed from his station.
"Concentrate on the larger craft for now Mr. Allard. Fire at will.
Mr. Jerran try not to get in the way of any shots from the DEFENDER."
They all remembered what one shot from the vast Husnock ship had done to
an AGAMEMNON Battlecruiser. FEYNMAN wouldn’t stand a chance.
As if to emphasize his understanding Jerran took the ship into a tight
corkscrew bringing the nimble destroyer behind the closest corvette.
Before the smaller ship’s gun turrets had even finished spinning around
to meet the new threat precision fire at the hands of Lt. Allard had
removed it from the battlefield. "Next." He said with a satisfied
grin.
<<<NRPG>>><br>
Have fun<br>
Respectfully,<br>
Andy<br>
--<br>
<nowiki>___________________________________________________________</nowiki><br>
-Captain Zane, Commanding, USS FEYNMAN<br>
-Commodore Robert Steele, Commanding TF ZINDERNEUF<br>
-Commander Horatio Sinclair, Fleet Intelligence, BLUE Fleet<br>


<h3 style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">SB EPSILON: Bad Start to a First Day</h3>
<h3 style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">SB EPSILON: Bad Start to a First Day</h3>
Line 362: Line 441:
-Commodore Robert Steele, Commanding TF ZINDERNEUF<br>
-Commodore Robert Steele, Commanding TF ZINDERNEUF<br>
-Commander Horatio Sinclair, Fleet Intelligence, BLUE Fleet<br>
-Commander Horatio Sinclair, Fleet Intelligence, BLUE Fleet<br>
<h3 style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">USS FEYNMAN: NRPG</h3>
<h4 style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">by
Kevin Thigpen 8-5-1997</h4>
All-<br>
Once again, I am preparing to move back home (after living so close to the
Big Apple for the entire summer, I don't know if I can readjust to the
small town of Hattiesburg, MS).
In short, I will be away from the land of e-mail for about two weeks
(probably a little less than a week actually, but I'm allowing time for
the development of any unforeseen troubles).
Of course, use Loren as you see fit.
Later,<br>
Kevin Thigpen<br>
USS FEYNMAN CNS<br>
Lt(jg) Loren Landers<br>
<nowiki>***********************************************************************</nowiki>
"Nature uses only the longest threads to weave her patterns, so each small<br>
piece of her fabric reveals the organization of the entire tapestry."<br>
---Richard Feynman<br>
Is there evil in the universe?<br>
---Anonymous<br>
<nowiki>***********************************************************************</nowiki><br>
<h3 style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">USS FEYNMAN: IS This Good For Those Ulcers?</h3>
<h4 style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">by Kristen Gant 8-10-1997</h4>
Stardate: 90810.1514<br>
Scene: Bridge<br>
>"Five fighters destroyed, damage to three others."
"Sir!" Jenn called from Ops, "Two fighters inbound on a collision course!"
"Initiating evasive maneuvers," Jerran called, his attention fully focused
on his console as his fingers tapped in his commands.
"Locking phasers," Koroth echoed. "We need more distance to fire phasers or
the explosions will take out our remaining shields."
Krysa eyes were glued to the front viewscreen as the two fighters barrel
toward them.
"It's a bluff," JC said tightly.
"I don't think so," Loren said.
"They don't care about themselves," Krysa agreed, "Only their final objective."
"But what is it!"
"Lt. Jerran you've got to put more space between us and those attackers,"
Zane ordered.
"Trying, sir," Jerran spoke calmly.
There was silence as the attacking enemies met and matched each of
Jerrran's maneuvers, not allowing the FEYNMAN to get any further away,
"What is the projected outcome if they both hit us."
"The first will knock out the remaining shields. The second will have a
clear shot .. and depending on where it hit's .. and with what force .."
Koroth began.
"Total destruction," someone finished as all mental energies were focused
on finding a way to avoid getting Kamikazi'd.
"30 seconds to first impact," Jenn reported.
"How about going to warp?" Zane asked.
"We are too close to the outpost for that ."
"Full stop to heading 668 point 73." Zane ordered. Jerran took his eyes off
his console to look back at his commanding officer, first with surprise,
then with understanding.
"Aye, sir." Jerran said, "Full stop. Course heading 668.73"
"10 seconds to first impact," Jenn reported. "9 .. 8 .."
"Mr. Jerran, give me a 3 second impulse burst on my mark."
"Ready, sir."
"7 .. 6 .." Jenn continued to count, "5 .. "
"Now!"
The engines groaned as Jerran executed the 4 second impulse burst, pushing
the FEYNMAN away from the course of the enemy fighters. The first fighter
blew over them, missing the FEYNMAN completely and shooting past them.
"Lock phasers and fire when safe."
The second fighter had time to compensate and the FEYNMAN shook as it hit
the ship's shields at an angle, bouncing away slightly before exploding.
"Shields at 23%," Koroth said somberly.
"Status on the other fighter."
"Beginning to turn and head back." Krysa interjected.
"Phasers's locked and firing," Koroth finished as the orange beam shot
from the FEYNMAN's phaser array, nearly destroying the first attacker.
Regards,<br>
Lt. Cmdr. Krysa Jenn<br>
Ops/2O USS FEYNMAN<br>
***
NRPG: Okay, you will not hurt my feelings by telling me this post is
extremely impossible :) I know nothing about battle tactics. Scott tried
once to teach me Starfleet Battles and I failed miserably ..
Kristen
<nowiki>*************************************************************</nowiki><br>
.^. Kristen Gant
.-----' `-----. (AKA: Lt. Cmdr. Krysa Jenn, OPS/2O, USS FEYNMAN<br>
| [##' `##] | Cmdr. Y'lonna Dyvian, XO, USS VICTORY<br>
`---' __ `---' Capt. Gabriel Faison, XO, TF ZINDERNEUF<br>
| .-' `. | Dr. Janna Swansen, CMO, USS PHOENIX<br>
|' `| Lt. Faith Donaven, Inst., Camp Venture<br>
Cmdr. Ainese Kev, (unassigned)<br>
Lt.(j.g.) Roana Shan, (unassigned))<br>
http://homepage.interaccess.com/~sgant/Kris/kris.htm
<h3 style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">USS FEYNMAN: NRPG: Happy Birthday!</h3>
<h4 style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">by
Michael "Mike" Dailey 8-14-1997</h4>
Happy Birthday to our ship and Jason! Now, I wonder
exactly HOW close in age we REALLY are to our PC's??? <BG>
Inquiring minds...??? (heh heh heh)
As always,<br>
Cheers!<br>
Mike<br>
+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=<br>
= "But that dread of something after death, the undiscovered country from whose +<br>
+ bourn no traveler returns, puzzles the will, and makes us rather bear those =<br>
= ills we have than fly to others that we know not of..." Hamlet +<br>
+ =<br>
= Lt., j.g. J.C.M. Allard - CSO USS FEYNMAN Alt.Starfleet.RPG +<br>
+ Lt. [Dr.] D'doj Zzawj Ckorji - UNASSIGNED SILVER FLEET =<br>
= Lcdr. Jordon Kabreigny - CNS USS BURKE GREEN FLEET +<br>
+ Lcdr. Ion Steiner - L.C. SFDITF TEAM ALPHA-1 Star Fleet Diplomatic Task Force =<br>
= Capt. Johan Bauer - COMSFDITF "All I ask is a tall ship..." +<br>
+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=<br>
<h3 style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">USS FEYNMAN: NRPG: Happy Birthday!</h3>
<h4 style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">by Melanie Pocknall 8-15-1997</h4>
>> >Does anyone know exactly what day the commisioning was?<br>
>> >If it's on the 20th then I can celebrate my birthday<br>
>> >along with the Feynman <G><br>
>FEYNMAN was commissioned on SD: 70815... close!<br>
>Happy Birthday Jason!<br>
That goes for me too! And happy birthday, today, to the Feynman. I think
I've been here since 80718, so I think I've well and truly broken the SCI
curse :)
Melanie.
<h3 style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">USS FEYNMAN: NRPG: Happy Birthday!</h3>
<h4 style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">by Kristen Gant 8-15-1997</h4>
>Happy Birthday to our ship and Jason! Now, I wonder<br>
>exactly HOW close in age we REALLY are to our PC's??? <BG><br>
>Inquiring minds...??? (heh heh heh)<br>
Right close in age of course :) Who would want to play a younger character
... Hmmmm :)
Hey, you don't really expect me to tell you my age now do ya!! Suffice it
to say that I believe I am the grandmother of players .. though in no way
am I a grandmother in real life!! My oldest is only 3 (okay 4 next month ..
boo hoo my baby's growing up :)
Kris
<nowiki>------------------------------------</nowiki><br>
Kristen & Scott Gant<br>
http://homepage.interaccess.com/~sgant/gant.htm<br>
<h3 style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">USS FEYNMAN: Back In The Saddle</h3>
<h4 style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">by
Kevin Thigpen 8-16-1997</h4>
Stardate: 90816.1459<br>
Scene: Bridge<br>
MD: During the intense battle<br>
Loren gripped the sides of his seat as the FEYNMAN rocked violently. In
the background, Loren could hear and feel the voices of his fellow
officers focusing on the battle in which they were mired.
Koreth, shouting something about the shields and SIF, couldn't drown out
Captain Zane's booming commands. Maril, off to the side, calmly punched
up schematics on his display.
Outwardly, both Zane and Maril projected that tension free look, but Loren
could feel the turmoil underneath. To varying degrees the rest of the
crew also projected the same facade.
The counselor could feel the stress mounting, but also the sense of flight
or fight the crew was experiencing. Right now, the FEYNMAN was more in
line with the fight mode of that particular syndrome, and fighting well as
far as Loren could determine.
Then, he felt the presence of the massive craft and the beings it
contained before Krysa even reported it on the sensors. Without even
thinking, Loren reached over grabbing Zane's forearm as the sheer
malevolence of the craft's intent washed over him.
Zane's eyes darted quickly over to the youthful counselor as the he felt
the man's grip close over his arm. Loren, eyes closed, took a sharp
intake of breath, as if he'd been suffocating for a few moments.
"Counselor?" began Zane, taking a very short reprieve from tossing orders
as the FEYNMAN tore frantically at it's current top sublight speed back
to the base.
Lost in the mind's eye, Loren shuddered slightly as the psychic phenomenon
of the alien craft passed over him. Coming out of the strange trancelike
state, Loren licked his lips before speaking.
"We've played right into their hands," quietly spoke Loren.
Respectfully submitted,<br>
Kevin Thigpen<br>
Lt(jg) Loren Landers<br>
USS FEYNMAN CNS<br>
[NRGP: Well, here's my two cents :). So what's going on with this
attack? I'm just dying to know, you know <BG>. Also, why do I feel there
should be some sort of ominous music playing in the background?]
<nowiki>***********************************************************************</nowiki><br>
"Nature uses only the longest threads to weave her patterns, so each small<br>
piece of her fabric reveals the organization of the entire tapestry."<br>
---Richard Feynman<br>
Is there evil in the universe?<br>
---Anonymous<br>
<nowiki>***********************************************************************</nowiki><br>
<h3 style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">USS FEYNMAN: Dogs of War (fwd)</h3>
<h4 style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">by Joseph Baker 8-19-1997</h4>
SD: 90819.0035<br>
Scene: Interplanetary Space Near Starbase Zinderneuf<br>
"PLUTO, CHARON," 1st LT Stark said over the Runabout THAME's comm unit.
"Two fighters coming up on your 3. Kaz, watch your wing leader and check
your six. Don't let anything slip by."
The Bajoran Militia officer brought the Federation runabout up behind a
nearby corvette that was about to come about for a run toward the FEYNMAN
while the Nausicaan in the co-pilot's seat opened fire with the phaser
arrays beside the cockpit. The shuttlecraft ASIMOV came in firing it's
phasers at the same spot, causing them to flare angrily before going out
completely, allowing one of the THAMES' torpedoes to get through and
detonate against the vulnerable hull. A final phaser shot from the
FEYNMAN's aft phaser array finished the corvette off as the two shuttles
banked off sharply to find another target.
"COCHRANE, ASIMOV, there's another wave of fighters coming towards the
FEYNMAN. Keep them off her back as they try and get back to the base.
CHARON and PLUTO, break off and head toward the LEXINGTON."
"This isn't right," Harkone said as he looked at his scanner display, his
large jutting teeth clicking together as he spoke. "How come they're
sending wave after wave? They'd be much better off sending them all in at
once."
"And they barely have a chance with just these fighters and a few
corvettes. There's got to be something more to this."
"Well, we've got another corvette to worry about first," Stark said as he
pulled the runabout around, the phasers blaring into the oncoming attack
craft.
<nowiki>*******************************************************</nowiki><br>
Scene: DELPHI Control Room, USS FEYNMAN<br>
ENS Jevadi Davon watched the sensor display as the powerful DELPHI array
recorded the battle. Every ship in the area was easily identified by its
various emissions and active sensor scans. The science officer wondered,
though, just as a certain Nausicaan pilot was also now wondering why the
enemy had only sent in a bunch of fighters and a few corvettes. Then, as
if on cue, something new popped into the field of battle. It only
appeared briefly at first, the sensor display crackling slightly as the
ship rocked from a hit from one of its attackers. In and out the small
dot faded, until finally it appeared steady, the word "Unknown" flashing
beside it an angry red as the dot moved towards the starbase. From the
space/energy matrix sensors, Jevadi could tell that whatever it was, it was
pretty big.
<nowiki>************************************************************</nowiki><br>
Scene: Bridge, USS FEYNMAN<br>
"The THAMES' just took a bad hit from that corvette," Jenn announced as
she glanced over to Jerran and saw no reaction from the Vulcan pilot.
"Come to 15 mark six, fire upper and lower starboard arrays. Prepare to
drop port shields as we fly by. Bring us in between the corvette and the
runabout, Mr. Jerran."
Jerran brought the ship into a tight right turn, adding a double roll to
avoid a couple of phaser shots from a pair of fighters behind the FEYNMAN.
The starboard phaser arrays threw out orange lances of fire towards the
corvette.
"We're in transporter range," LT Allard said.
"Drop shields," the captain said calmly. "Transporter room, energize."
As the port shields were down, the two fighters managed to get off a
couple of shots from their small phaser arrays, doing some slight damage
to the dorsal section of engineering. After what seemed like an eternity,
the transporter chief said, [THAMES' crew aboard].
"Shields up," Allard announced.
"Bring us back on course for Zinderneuf, LT."
[DELPHI to bridge], ENS Jevadi's voice came over the intercom, eliciting
an ever so slightly raised eyebrow from the Vulcan pilot at the helm. The
only one who noticed the gesture was the OPS officer sitting beside him,
who just smiled very slightly in spite of the battle raging around them,
and filed the information away for future use. [We've got another contact
coming in towards the base. It looks pretty big.]
"Felani and the beast of Korza," Maril said as he looked at his sensor
screen.
"Can we make it, Jerran?" Zane said as he sat at the edge of his seat.
"Not at the speed they're moving, sir," the pilot said as the ship rocked
with another torpedo hit from the corvette pursuing them. "And not with
these ships on our six."
"We're in over our heads."
<nowiki>**************************************</nowiki><br>
<NRPG><br>
I'm still alive :)<br>
<nowiki>***************************************************************************</nowiki><br>
* jobaker@chuma.cas.usf.edu * jbaker@deans2.cas.usf.edu *<br>
<nowiki>***************************************************************************</nowiki><br>
* Joseph Baker *<br>
* University of South Florida *<br>
<nowiki>***************************************************************************</nowiki><br>
* Daisemi'in rhhaensuriuu * Of the Chief parts of the *<br>
* meillunsiateve * Ruling Passion only this *<br>
* rh'e Mnhei'sahe yie ahr'en: * Can be truly said: *<br>
* Mnahe afw'ein qiuu, * Hate has a reason for everything *<br>
* rh'e hweithnaef * But love is unreasonable *<br>
* mrht Heis'he ehl'ein qiuu * --Rihannsu Proverb *<br>
<nowiki>***************************************************************************</nowiki><br>
<h3 style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">USS FEYNMAN: Charcoal Man</h3>
<h4 style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">by
Kevin Thigpen 8-21-1997</h4>
[NRPG: With title, no disrespect intended towards burn-victims.]
Stardate: 90821.2331<br>
Scene: Bridge--->sickbay<br>
MD: [NRPG: Not too sure about the MD. None on Jason's last post, and the
others have gone to the digital afterlife :).]
The FEYNMAN eased into place to the port side of the DEFENDER as the last
of the enemy fighters fled the immediate area of space or were mopped up
by the remaining Star Fleet fighters.
Zane glanced around his somewhat damaged bridge. One of the science
consoles aft had taken a beating and showed some severe charring as a
result. Other than the that, the only evidence on the bridge that a
battle had just taken place were the sharp, alert looks the bridge crew
possessed.
Koreth was already in the turbolift heading to 'his' engineering section
to effect what repairs he and his team of miracle workers could. J.C.
remained standing solidly at his station, not even the slightest hint of
anxiety present on his face. Maril looked just as impassive in his seat
to Zane's right.
The faces of Krysa and Jerran were obscured as they focused on the main
viewscreen communicating with the DEFENDER and various other fighter
squadrons.
The ship's counselor, Loren Landers, was doing some one-way communication
of his own. Calming his mind, he evicted the tremendous tension of the
crew from his own mind. Unlike Vulcans, Betazoids, lacking sheer
telepathic power, made up for this shortcoming with their range. Right
now, the tense feelings and pent up anxiety of the entire crew was
crashing down on Loren's mind.
Training prevented him from succumbing to the debilitating effects of
these emotions.
"Captain, permission to head to sickbay. I'd like to see if there's
anything I can do with the captured enemy pilot," quietly asked Loren.
Zane shifted slightly, taking note of the counselor's quiet tone. He knew
of the hardships endured by many strong Betazoid telepaths when the
feelings of those around them were peaking. Zane could imagine that what
Loren was enduring now wasn't pleasant, but then again there was
absolutely nothing pleasant about what had just transpired. Nodding, he
gave his silent assent.
[SNIP]
Loren stepped gingerly in sickbay, rubbing his temples. Straightening
himself physically and mentally, he moved into the main sickbay area. No
sense in presenting himself as another possible patient for Mary. She and
her staff already had their hands full as it was. He wasn't about to give
them more to do.
Sickbay was more of a triage center than a real sickbay. Injured bodies
covered all of the available bio-beds. In a glance, Loren took note of
those bodies with sheets covering them from head to toe.
"Hand me that dermal regenerator!"
"Doctor! Over here!"
"Give him this and move him over there."
Quiet moans of pain punctuated the hurried voices of the medical staff,
who were doing an admirable job in the face of tremendous difficulty.
Flashes of green moved from bio-bed to floor to corner, wherever lay a
patient a green form hovered over it for a few minutes before moving on to
another. Those in pain received a quick hypospray before bliss took them
off to the painless land of unconsciousness.
"I'm a little busy right now counselor..." began Mary as she moved to a
patient next to the door through which Loren had entered.
"I know...I just want to see the pilot that was captured."
"In a moment," Mary pressed the hypo to the groaning man's neck after
determining that his wounds were not life-threatening. "Damn," she
muttered as the hypo sputtered, notifying it's user that it was completely
empty. "Dr. Scully! Another sedative over here!"
No answer, as Scully was busy with patients of her own. Loren leaned down
to the man propped against the bulkhead, next to Mary. For half-a-second
he caught a whiff of her perfume. Funny, he'd never noticed it before,
but he put these thoughts aside as he smoothed the man's hair, trying to
impart some of the calm in his mind to ease the man's suffering.
Less than half a minute passed before the man's groans became mere
whimpers. "Can I see the pilot now?" queried Loren to an on-looking Mary.
"He's over there," gestured Mary to the far corner of sickbay, before
moving on to other injured parties.
Lithely, Loren moved among the med staff and injured approaching the
blackened body that was the enemy.
There was no way to even visually identify the man's race the dermal
damage was so bad. Quietly, Loren stepped up the man, looking carefully
over the damaged flesh that was his face.
Calming his own mind some more, he reached out, hoping to catch a whisp of
something that floated free of the man's mind. Just as quickly, he felt
the nothingness that comes from a species whose minds are closed to
telepathic contact. But somehow, this closedness was nothing like the
Ferengi, a race whose brain structure prohibited telepathy. This
'closedness' seemed almost artificial.
Loren would have to talk to someone who was far more proficient at dealing
with mental blockages than he, a Vulcan, or half-Vulcan even. Loren
reached to tap his comm-badge, just as blackened hand grasped his own.
Nearly jumping onto the adjacent bio-bed, Loren instinctively tried to
twist his wrist away from the charred man. No avail, as the man's grip
was tremendous, even in his condition.
A wicked smile played across his flaky lips, as he muttered, "No
use...we've won." A slight, weak laughter followed that stood Loren's
hairs on end.
Success! Loren twisted his wrist free leaving the man's hand hanging
limply at his side. Taking a few steps back, Loren moved away from the
horrible visage of the pilot.
"Counselor?" spoke Scully whom Loren had just nearly run into in his haste
to back away from the enemy pilot. Immediately, she caught the direction
of Loren's gaze before he could reply. "He'll be up and about in no time.
We just haven't had time to run the regenerators over him. Right now,
he's in no harm. Furthermore, he can't get far with the force field we've
thrown over him."
Swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat, Loren nodded. "Thanks
Dr. Scully."
"No problem," she added winking an eye as she glanced from him to Mary.
Loren nearly opened his mouth, but she was off before any words could come
to mind. Instead, he left sickbay for the bridge to report, in person,
what had been passed along to him about the enemy pilot's condition as
well as his own encounter.
Respectfully submitted,<br>
Kevin Thigpen<br>
Lt(jg) Loren Landers<br>
USS FEYNMAN CNS<br>
[NRPG: Just a little something to move us along a very teensy weeny bit
:). Also, I was just going through my files (cleaning up my account
actually) and I realized that Loren never finished the BrOT tests. I know
we got busy towards the end, but I was wondering: Are we going to assume
that he passed or do we have him finish up the last parts now that we are
back at base?]
<nowiki>***********************************************************************</nowiki><br>
"Nature uses only the longest threads to weave her patterns, so each small<br>
piece of her fabric reveals the organization of the entire tapestry."<br>
---Richard Feynman<br>
Is there evil in the universe?<br>
---Anonymous<br>
<nowiki>***********************************************************************</nowiki><br>
<h3 style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">USS FEYNMAN: Robbing From the Rich</h3>
<h4 style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">by Kristen Gant 8-25-1997</h4>
Stardate: 90825.1833<br>
Scene: Corridor to the holodeck<br>
Krysa walked with great ceremony through the corridor, nodding to those
'peasants' who passed by. This was indeed one of the best constumes yet,
she thought as she smoothed the velvet greet brocade. Course the corset
wasn't the most comfortable, but she had to admit it did make her look
stunning. So all in all it was certainly worth it.
She stepped in front of the holodeck, and watched as the door opened to a
lovely grassy road. Situated just in front of her was a carriage drawn by a
decorated white horse. "Milady Krysa," a handsome young squire stepped to
the door of the carriage opening it for her. "The nobles await you at the
castle."
Krysa grinned, "Do they indeed. Then lets not keep the handsome gents
waiting." She took his hand and pulled up her heavy skirts just enough to
keep from stepping on them as she entered the carriage.
She 'oohed' happily at the soft padded interior, "This is indeed lovely!"
She turned to the squire shutting the door to thank him, when an arrow shot
out, shooting the squires hat right off his head. The man put his hand to
his head and then promptly fell over in a dead faint. Krysa watched with
wide eyes as the man hit the floor.
Suddenly a man dressed in forest green tights and another dressed in church
robes stepped out of the forest, "Hand over your gold, milady."
Krysa's eyes narrowed, that voice was familiar. "What is the meaning of this!"
"There are people in need of your gold, milady. Surely you wouldn't without
food from the mouths of starving farmers." The man drew nearer, and a smile
landed on Krysa's face. "Why you must be that rogue, Robin Hood."
Jerran grinned, taking his hat from his head and bowing low, "At your
service fair lady."
"You know I don't think the Sheriff would be very happy to see you robbing
my carriage."
"Oh," Jerran said, "And is the Sheriff a personal friend of yours?"
"Indeed," Krysa said. "And I think you should hurry on your merry way
before he comes along and arrests you."
"He couldn't catch me." the would be Robin Hood boasted. "And to prove it,
I think I'll take the whole carriage. Certainly he couldn't miss a missing
carriage?"
"Have it your way," Krysa said sitting back in the carriage.
"But Master Robin .. we *can't* take an entire carriage!" The rotund friar
said.
"Why not," Jerran asked. "Climb aboard my good man." He stuck his head in
the window of the carriage and whispered to Krysa, "I hope the horse knows
where he's going."
Krysa giggled, "I've confidence in you Lieutenant."
"You realize you're my prisoner now," he added with a grin before swinging
up onto the drivers seat of the carriage.
Regards,<br>
Lt. Commander Krysa Jenn<br>
OPS/2O, USS FEYNMAN<br>
***
NRPG: Well, we're on our way .. but what awaits our intrepid Rogue and his
fair prisoner .. or what chases them ??
Kris
<nowiki>------------------------------------</nowiki><br>
Kristen & Scott Gant<br>
http://homepage.interaccess.com/~sgant/gant.htm<br>
<h3 style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">USS FEYNMAN: Swimming Against the Tide
</h3>
<h4 style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">by
Andrew Catterick 8-28-1997</h4>
SD:90828.1700<br>
Scene: Medieval Fort, Holodeck<br>
<I>
>"Aye, the Lord sends his due compliments, but cannot attend due to <br>
>matters with the regiment. In leiu, he sends his trusting second, <br>
>at your service." Rory returned his sword, and bowed to the staff, <br>
>moving to take a seat beside at the food laden table beside Mr. Landers.<br><br>
</I>
"Mr Heywood do you want to run that one by me again? Just exactly why
is the senior security officer not at the senior officer’s briefing as
he was ordered." Zane asked more calmly than he felt.
The security officer seemed a little less sure of the situation. "Lt
Allard asked me to go in his place as part of my training I am to be
graded on how I represent security at the briefing and my presentation
of it at the security briefing tomorrow at oh-eight thirty."
"Did you have any idea of this commander?" Zane asked sure that his
FO would have cleared it with him before authorizing it.
"No sir. I did not."
"Mr. Heywood I realize you’re here because your immediate superior
ordered you to be here. However the senior staff briefing is
specifically for senior officers, hence the name. Would you please go
back to security and inform Mr. Allard that if he is in this briefing in
the next five minutes I will consider him late rather than disobeying
orders."
"Yes sir!" Heywood replied before making a dash. Maril took pity and
called for the arch allowing him to bypass the scenario imposed
distance. The look on the first officer’s face seemed clear that he
would not be as lenient with the CSO as his captain was being.
<nowiki>-----------------------------</nowiki><br>
10 Minutes later.<br>
With all the senior staff and FEYNMAN’s three guests sitting at the oak
table Zane began. "Before the briefing gets underway I’d like to
introduce our guests. They will be remaining on board and will be
participating in the mission to varying degrees." He gestured to the
two temporal officers. ‘First, are Major’s Flint and Stone of the
Federation Temporal Division." That name got everyone’s attention.
"And to my left, Lt. James Cardiff."
He paused before continuing. "The gist of it is this. Even though we
beat the attacker’s back we did not win the battle, the real battle.
Neither did they but they are certainly on the edge of doing so. The
whole thing was a diversion for one action. They wanted the DEFENDER to
fire on them. They needed the massive amounts of energy that DEFENDER
had to trigger their plan. To power a jump back in time." Again the
captain paused to let the magnitude sink in. "They have gone back in
time to disrupt a trial of a Starfleet admiral, their god. If they are
successful then this time-line will end. We are going back in time to
stop them." He gestured to Cardiff. "Lieutenant." All eyes turned to
the older officer for the details.
<<<NRPG>>>
There ya go Mike.
All: As you know Time travel is frowned upon in ASR and meeting
anything or anyone having to do with trek canon is even more so (at
least one unit has been disbanded for doing just that). Mike feels we
are up to the challenge and I agree with him. So lets not let him
down….
Respectfully,<br>
Andy<br>
<nowiki>___________________________________________________________</nowiki><br>
-Captain Zane, Commanding, USS FEYNMAN<br>
-Commodore Robert Steele, Commanding TF ZINDERNEUF<br>
-Commander Horatio Sinclair, Fleet Intelligence, BLUE Fleet<br>
<h3 style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">USS FEYNMAN: Swimming Against the Tide - Part 2</h3>
<h4 style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">by
Michael "Mike" Dailey 9-1-1997</h4>
SD:90828.1700<br>
Scene: Medieval Fort, Holodeck<br>
<I>
> >"Aye, the Lord sends his due compliments, but cannot attend<br>
> >due to matters with the regiment. In lieu, he sends his<br>
> >trusting second, at your service." Rory returned his<br>
> >sword bowing to the assembled senior officers.<br>
>"Mr. Heywood do you want to run that one by me again?" Zane's peevish and<br>
>bitter, razor-edged tone sliced through the merry composure of the young man.<br>
> "Just exactly why is the senior security officer not at the senior<br>
> officer’s briefing as he was ordered." Zane asked more calmly than he felt.<br>
</I>
Like any green Ensign on his first posting, Rory had heard of the strange
quirks and oddities abound the FEYNMAN and of her commander, but a vivid
image of Captain William Bligh appeared to him. Feeling quite vulnerable,
Rory came to attention.
"Lt. Allard asked me to go in his place as part of me trainin, Sair."
Maril's menacing look offered no reprisal. "I'm ta be graded on how I
represent security at the briefing and the presentation of it at the
security briefing tomorrow at oh-eight thirty, Sair." His struggle to
maintain his confidence withheld, barely, in spite of feeling as thought
he was the main course for a Klingon Rath'kli dinner (e.g., LARGE tiger).
<I>
> "Did you have any idea of this commander?" Zane asked sure that his<br>
> FO would have cleared it with him before authorizing it.<br>
><br>
> "No sir. I did not."<br>
><br>
> "Mr. Heywood I realise you’re here because your immediate superior<br>
> ordered you to be here. However the senior staff briefing is specifically<br>
> for senior officers, hence the name. Would you please go back to security<br>
> and inform Mr. Allard that if he is in this briefing in the next five minutes<br>
> I will consider him late rather than disobeying orders."<br>
</I>
"Ulp.." Rory swallowed hard. "Orders received an' understood, Sair!"
Barked Rory. A nod from Maril released him, fleeing from the Holodeck.
> Maril took pity and called for the arch allowing him to bypass the scenario<br>
> imposed distance. <br>
[SNIP]
Leaving his quarters, J.C. tugged at the sword belt that had moments ago
rested upon Rory's hip. Glad they were of nearly identical stature, Rory
had suggested he don the his costume rather than wait to replicate another, so as
to be properly attired.
The lift doors opened onto the holodeck corridor, as J.C. started to exit,
slamming himself into the form of Bat Durensten.
"Sorry, Bat. I wasn't looking." apologized J.C. The unofficial rec. officer
harrumphed, indicating to the holodeck 2 behind him.
"Don't worry yourself, Justin. Just watch your back in there! Quite a few
ungrateful sharks with big heads in circling for prey in there." J.C. shot
him a confused and curious look,
"Are you o.k.. Bat?" inquired the CSO? Many times Bat had provided much
needed console for a down-trodden J.C.
"Oh.. nothing you can do, but thanks." mumbled Bat. "Something I need to
work out between myself and someone else. For now, it's off to the Station."
"A little R&R, huh?" asked J.C. jokingly, but the grave look upon Bat's eyes told
a much different story.
"Afraid not, Justin. I've been given the 'official boot'." Shaking his head as he
turned for the lift, "You know, if I could just turn the clock back a few years.
Justin, I wish we could trade places." The words trailed as the lift swallowed the
older CSO up. J.C. inwardly laughed at the irony of his last comment, *I wouldn't
be so sure of that,* he thought.
Glancing at his wrist chrono, he saw a full seven minutes had passed. A glimmer
of haste filled J.C., but quickly vanished with anger. *To HELL with the bloody
TYRANT! There's no pleasing his royal ARSE!* After the briefing, J.C. looked
forward to having it out once and for all with Captain Ardik Thorsen! Make him
look like a fool in front of his people, will he. Blast him, anyway. If the
game is hardball, J.C. had ample fuel in his logs to throw into the fire.
Frustration fed his anger, until reaching the deck door, J.C. paused to take a
few deep breaths.
> -----------------------------<br>
> 10 Minutes later.<br>
Taking a seat beside Loren, J.C. felt reminiscent of a human pin-cushion,
as daggers and spears were looked upon him by Maril and Zane. Indifference
returned, J.C.'s concentration was focused upon the three unfamiliar faces
in the room.<br>
<I>
> With all the senior staff and FEYNMAN’s three guests sitting at the oak<br>
> table Zane began. "Before the briefing gets underway I’d like to<br>
> introduce our guests. They will be remaining on board and will be<br>
> participating in the mission to varying degrees." He gestured to the<br>
> two temporal officers. =91First, are Major’s Flint and Stone of the<br>
> Federation Temporal Division." That name got everyone’s attention.<br>
> "And to my left, Lt. James Cardiff."<br>
</I>
He had heard the station FCO's name here and there before, but never actually
met. As for the other two, their names and titles were equally mystifying.
<nowiki>*Temporal Division?*</nowiki>, what was SFE up to now? he wondered.
<I>
> He paused before continuing. "The gist of it is this. Even though<br>
> we beat the attacker’s back we did not win the battle, the real battle.<br>
> Neither did they but they are certainly on the edge of doing so. The<br>
> whole thing was a diversion for one action. They wanted the DEFENDER to<br>
> fire on them. They needed the massive amounts of energy that DEFENDER<br>
> had to trigger their plan. To power a jump back in time." Again the<br>
> captain paused to let the magnitude sink in. "They have gone back in<br>
> time to disrupt a trial of a Starfleet admiral, their god. If they are<br>
> successful then this time-line will end. We are going back in time to<br>
> stop them." He gestured to Cardiff. "Lieutenant." All eyes turned to<br>
> the older officer for the details.<br><br>
</I>
J.C.'s mouth momentarily held agape, as were most of the senior staff's.
All other thoughts instantly diminished in one breath. The Academy class in
Temporal Mechanics (which he barely had scraped through,) re-envisioned itself,
as were the strict regulations regarding the practice that had been drummed and
drilled into every Cadet's head for the past 150+ years.
In theory, the slingshot effect could be used, but the slightest miscalculation
on any one of a hundred variables would send the ship into the heart of the star
instead of skirting it's gravity field. Partial shock, partial inquisitive
amazement focused J.C. on Lieutenant Cardiff's report.
Submitted,<br>
Mike Dailey<br>
splatter2@qtm.net<br>
<nowiki>********
* NRPG *
********</nowiki>
On with the show. Dawe, great mission premise! This one will go down in ASR history!
Cheers!<br>
Mike Dailey<br>
+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=<br>
+ But that dread of something after death, the undiscovered  +<br>
= country from whose  bourn no traveler returns, puzzles the =<br>
+ will, and makes us rather bear those ills we have than fly +<br>
= to others that we know not of..." Hamlet                  =<br>
+                                                            +<br>
= Lt., j.g. J.C.M. Allard CSO USS FEYNMAN Alt.Starfleet.RPG  =<br>
+ Lt. [Dr.] D'doj Zzawj Ckorji - UNASSIGNED SILVER FLEET    +<br>
= Lcdr. Jordon Kabreigny CNS USS BURKE GREEN FLEET          =<br>
+ Lcdr. Ion Steiner L.C. SFDITF TEAM ALPHA-1 SFDITF          +<br>
= Capt. Johan Bauer COMSFDITF "All I ask is a tall ship..."  =<br>
+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=<br>
<h3 style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">USS FEYNMAN: It's A Tough Job</h3>
<h4 style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">by Kristen Gant 8-30-1997</h4>
Stardate: 90830.1053<br>
Scene: Holodeck<br>
It was a pleasant trip back to the castle and those who had been in the
scenario were brimming with smiles. This was the best part of these
staffings. Krysa walked in and flashed a smile at a sour-faced Captain as
she turned to taste Bat's faire.
She stood looking at the delicious treats and began sampling, as her eyes
scanned the room for Bat. Where was he? He was usually nearby to hear all
the compliments about his food. He wouldn't miss those!
Finally still unable to find him, she moved stealthily behind Zane, reaching
out to poke him gently in the ribs. He jumped a bit and turned to look at
her. "Don't."
She frowned at the dark look on his face, "What's wrong?"
"We have guests."
"I know, I saw them." She grinned, "But the meeting hasn't started yet ..
don't be a fuddy duddy. By the way, where's Bat? Is he hiding in
preparation for some amazing surprise?"
Zane looked even unhappier and Krysa frowned, "Zane .. what's up?"
"He's going to spend this mission at Zindernuef."
"Bat!??"
Zane nodded, "I .. had to put him off .."
"Oh dear," Krysa whispered, "I bet that wasn't easy."
Zane shook his head, "No."
She looked up at him with a comforting smile, "I'm sorry."
Zane shrugged then turned to see the ACSO walking in .. without Lt. Allard ..
***
'Back in time' .. the concept seemed so ludicrous. Sure it had been done
before.. but it was highly frowned on .. and extremely dangerous. Squash
the wrong disease carrying bug and you save people who should have died ..
who in turn create people who never existed ..and then the whole timeline
as they know it changes.
It was no wonder Zane had to put all unnecessary personnel off the ship.
Not that Bat would understand that ..
Regards,
Lt. Commander Krysa Jenn
OPS/2O, USS FEYNMAN
***
NRPG: I just wanted to get one last fluff post in .. and Krysa's reaction
to Bat being put off :)
Kristen
<h3 style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">USS FEYNMAN: Evil Thoughts</h3>
<h4 style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">by
Kevin Thigpen 8-30-1997</h4>
Stardate: 90831.0256<br>
Scene: FEYNMAN Holodeck<br>
MD:<br>
Loren sat quietly, consuming the information provided by Lt. Cardiff. He,
too, had heard stories told through certain channels of an old FCO who had
remained a Lt. all his career.
He had thought them only rumors, but now right here at this mission
briefing was the rumor, bygone hearsay no more.
As soon as the words time travel were mentioned, Loren immediately felt
the tension in the room seize him. Overlaying the emotions he felt,
though, were those of his own.
The thought of time travel, going back over 40 years, captivated him. For
a split second, Loren's mind turned to thoughts that since yesterday, he
had given up on. But here before him, another opportunity presented
itself, an opportunity to find out who he really was.
Given, 40 years was a bit of overkill, but still, there could be records
of the ship, who knows what else. The merchantman PURUL didn't exist now,
but 40 years ago it might have.
Mentally, Loren shook these disgusting thoughts off. During that split
second, he had actually considered doing the very thing that he had
pledged his life, his career towards not violating. No, he would not
tamper with his own timeline. Besides there would be very little if
anything he could even do about it 40 years in the past.
He kept telling himself this, not even realizing that the thoughts were
there in his mind, and that with time, he might even come to accept doing
the unthinkable.
Across and down the banquet table, Lt.Cmdr. Krysa Jenn was occupied by her
own thoughts as well, but a sidelong glance at the others caused her to
focus her gaze on the young, blond haired counselor at the far end.
Very few people could tell much about a Betazoid by looking at the dark
orbs that served for their eyes, not even Krysa. Not to mention that her
empathic abilities were somewhat below par. Still, she had served as a
counselor aboard the FEYNMAN for some time, while Loren was still at the
academy. She knew things the inexperienced counselor was just beginning
to learn.
She could spot a troubled mind, even at a distance. Right now, to Krysa,
it was pretty obvious that Loren's dark eyes were focused elsewhere,
beyond the little briefing. Mentally, she made a note to mention this
disturbing impression to Loren later, not to mention that the body
language being passed between he and Mary was...interesting to say the
least.
Loren brought himself back to reality after disposing of the thoughts
earlier. Focusing on Cardiff, Loren could sense the waves of hopelessness
emanating from the man. Deep inside burned something, that made him
continue, but outside he portrayed a man tormented and who had given up.
Given up on the things in life that made one believe it worth living.
The FEYNMAN's counselor immediately pegged Cardiff as unusual. If not for
the strange, undefinable fire within him, Loren's professional opinion
would have been that he be retired from Starfleet.
Respectfully submitted,<br>
Kevin Thigpen<br>
Lt(jg) Loren Landers<br>
[NRPG: Perhaps a CNS with his own agenda?]
<nowiki>***********************************************************************</nowiki><br>
"Nature uses only the longest threads to weave her patterns, so each small<br>
piece of her fabric reveals the organization of the entire tapestry."<br>
---Richard Feynman<br>
Is there evil in the universe?<br>
---Anonymous<br>
<nowiki>***********************************************************************</nowiki><br>
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