USS Feynman MAR 1997

---

Home | New Players | Join Star Fleet | Star Fleet Library
USS Ranger | USS Yorktown | USS Circe ( Starbase Serenity) | Free Threads

---

U.S.S. FEYNMAN NCC-66000
March 1997 Posts

TOTAL MARCH 1997 POSTS: *TBD*

• USS FEYNMAN Main Page

• Stardate Keys

GRAND TOTAL POSTS: 720

Posts By Each Year

• 1996 Posts - 642 Posts
  
• 1997 Posts - 78 (Jan-Mar) Posts
  
• 1998 Posts - TBD Posts
  
• 1999 Posts - TBD Posts
  

---

USS FEYNMAN: Strength and Mortality

by Kristen Gant 3-7-1997

Stardate: 90307.1356
Scene: Sickbay
MD: 5.0300

The Trader-Monk had regained its feet, and dashed towards Dee's scent. Suddenly, silently, it stumbled, and crashed to the floor before it reached its frozen quarry. Glin'kharr smiled wryly. "Gotcha," he whispered. Then came the pain. He closed his eye and gritted his teeth.

Krysa watched almost in slow motion the events when led to the demise of the FEYNMAN's CMO. The echo of Dee's scream at the sight of the creature still rumbled in her ears even as the bodies of both Trader-monk and Kar'llian stopped moving.

Krysa rushed over to where the doctor had fallen, her heart beating loudly in her chest as she stepped out of the way of the creature. Dee stood mortified still watching it, as though she were afraid it would yet stand and attack once again.

"Doctor? Doctor??" Krysa said, though she was sure there would be no response. "Security to sickbay, NOW!!!" Even as she spoke a couple of med tech's ran in along with Dr. T'del.

"What happened?" The Vulcan asked with studied calmness.

"I'm not completely sure. It happened so fast, and we came in .. it was almost over by then." Krysa said, looking up at her with sad eyes.

T'del nodded and knelt down, her tricorder poised over the downed CMO. Krysa pulled out her phaser and pointed it at Dee. "Haven't you done enough? Why did you come back?" Dee looked at her, but Krysa was pretty sure she wasn't seeing her. Most likely anything she had to say now would go unheard. She sighed and tapped her commbadge. The Captain had to be told.

MD: 5.0315

As the Dee was led away Zane turned back to face Glin'kharr. He moved a few steps forward and then dropped to one knee beside him "Oh doctor....."

Krysa watched as they led the fake Ensign away, and then turned to see Zane drop to one knee. She felt his pain and walked over to him, crouching down next to him and putting a hand on his shoulder.

T'del looked up from her tricorder. Even with her non-emotional heritage, T'del's eyes were somber. "There is nothing we can do, sir."

Zane nodded silently, and Krysa could see his distress easily. She stood pulling on his arm, "Come on." He looked at her briefly, then stood, following her gentle lead.

She led him into Glin'kharr's office, where her hand fell away from his arm. The tall captain leaned back against the wall heavily. "This isn't supposed to happen," he said quietly.

"I know," she agreed, watching his dark eyes.

"Thanks for pulling me out of there before.." he began, but didn't seem able to finish.

She nodded, "I know how you need to be strong in front of the crew .. but to be honest .. I have an ulterior motive."

He looked up at her questioningly. She met his gaze and tears started to form in her eyes, "I needed a hug."

They looked at each other sadly for a moment, then Zane held out his arms and Krysa stepped into them and they grieved for their fallen crewmate. It was always sad to lose a fellow officer, even to happy events such as promotions .. but it was devastating to lose them forever in death. Not only was it the loss of friend and associate, but also it was a reminder of their own mortality. Something few liked to be reminded of.

For Krysa, Glin'kharr's death was only one more crime on Dee's head. And this time she would have to pay.

Regards,
Lt. Commander Krysa Jenn
Ops/2O, USS FEYNMAN

• • • 
      

NRPG: Okay, I took a few liberties with Zane, hope you don't mind, Andy.

Kristen
--
Kristen & Scott Gant
http://homepage.interaccess.com/~sgant/gant.htm

USS FEYNMAN: Time To Go

by Kevin Thigpen 3-10-1997

Stardate: 90310.1832
Scene: Xanthandi Supply Station, docking bay 3
MD: 5.1340

The undercover Ensign Loren Landers made his way to his shuttle with the station's first officer Naril closely behind.

The station master, who insisted on being referred to as only 'The Master', was difficult to bargain with. Fortunately those late nights at the academy playing poker had been worth it.

Loren had managed to keep an absolutely straight face when the Master had threatened to seize his cargo and outright kill him. Threatening the Master and his station with a thermonuclear detonator keyed into his vital signs had been a long shot, but one worth trying.

Fortunately, he'd bought it. Now all he had to do was oversee the installation of a few of the packs into the station's systems and then the rest would be history. Of course, this was only true provided nothing went wrong and the rest of the team kept a low profile outside the station.

Plans never go as planned though. Loren was soon to prove this theory true.

The doors to the shuttlebay closed behind Loren and Naril.

"I will retrieve the packs and then you can be on your way Mr. Darrian," said Maril.

The bay itself was pretty cluttered. Loren's shuttle rested off in one corner. Standing next to it was another Xanthandi soldier carrying his payment, in pressed latinum bars.

"Trothel has your payment, now give us the packs," spat Naril as the two stepped up to the loading ramp of Loren's shuttle.

Keying in the appropriate sequence and then placing his hand on his neck (more to enhance the effect of the pre-supposed thermonuclear device) Loren opened his shuttle.

In a small case directly in front of the door sat the crate of bio-neural gel packs.

"Get them," growled Naril to his companion Trothel. "Now, I believe you and I have some unfinished business Mr. Darrian."

Loren could sense the hostility coming from Naril and anticipated his next move.

The Xanthandi's sidearm came up and a beam of high energy flashed out from its muzzle.

Throwing himself to the floor seconds before the flash of energy, Loren barely managed to avoid instantaneous death. The beam tore past him into his open shuttle hitting the control panel. Sparks flew, but that at the moment was the least of Loren's worries.

The Xanthandi had searched and removed Loren's weapons prior to coming on the station. *Damn efficiently too,* he reminiscenced. Now, he was facing two fully armed Xanthandi who were hell bent on making him as dead as possible. It really couldn't get much worse.

"I know you lied to the 'Master'. You see, I'm no fool. I've been looking forward to killing one of your kind. Do beings of your race scream when they die? I'll make sure yours is especially painful for I do so love hearing people scream."

All during his tirade, Naril silently moved among the crates in the room edging closer and closer to Loren's last position.

Laying on the hard plexifloor, Loren ripped a few strips of cloth from his trousers and placed them hard on his wounded arm. His instincts had been right but not fast enough to save him from getting scraped by Naril's shot. *At least I'm not dead* he thought.

Turning his attention back to his situation, Loren's survival instincts kicked in. *Two on one. No weapons, but do have the element of surprise. They don't expect a fully trained Starfleet officer.*

Breathing deeply but silently, Loren gathered his thoughts and made his move.

Darting across some open space, Loren drew the fire of Trothel who also had taken up a position behind some crates. Loren expected this and took the last few centimeters to the cargo bay's control panel by diving headfirst.

Energy blasts stitched lines in the floor behind him, but that didn't matter. His hand slapped the control panel, finding just what he needed...the emergency decompression sequence.

Quickly he keyed in what he thought was the appropriate code, bracing himself expectantly. With the last keypunch he took a deep breath...

Nothing happened.

"Did you really think it'd be that easy?" came a voice behind him.

Naril stepped into view as Loren turned to face him.

"Now, it's time to see how you scream."

Naril threw his weapon to the floor as he charged Loren.

Loren sidestepped the man's rush and placed his hands on the man's collar. Using his forward momentum, Loren threw the man for all he was worth directly into the cargo bay's control panel.

The force of the Xanthandi's charge was so great that the stem connecting the panel to the bay's floor gave way as the entire control panel tipped over with Naril's head embedded in it.

Without missing a step, Loren grabbed Naril's weapon and trained it on the stunned Xanthandi named Trothel who had stepped out from behind hiding to see his commander die. He simply stared open mouthed at the scene.

Naril's limp form sticking head first into an up ended control panel and Loren with a weapon trained directly on him.

"Get out of here now!" yelled Loren, "or you die."

The man hesitated for a moment. Loren felt the same sensations he had felt moments ago, before Naril had tried to shoot him in the back.

Loren didn't hesitate. He shot and vaporized the Xanthandi where he stood.

What had to be done next, Loren wasn't looking forward to, but he knew it had to be done.

Retrieving the special interface Glin'kharr had made for use with the nanites, Loren made his way to one of the wall circuit panels in the bay.

Opening it and also cutting open one of the bio-neural gel packs, Loren spoke to the nanites and Dr. Pasteur one last time.

"Good luck, my friends. Do as much damage as you can."

["IT'S ABOUT TIME YOU GOT US OUT OF THOSE DAMN BAGS. STICK US IN A TUBE, STICK US IN A BAG. DON'T YOU EVER BOTHER TO CONSIDER WHAT WE THINK."]

"Of course I do Dr. Pasteur but I really don't have time now. My cover's been blown and if I don't get out soon..."

["OF COURSE HUMANOID LANDERS. GO. WE WILL TAKE CARE OF THE SITUATION FROM HERE."]

"Dr. Pasteur, thanks again. Your sacrifice.."

["YEA, YEA, YEA, THEY'LL BUILD A STATUE OR SOME OTHER USELESS COMMEMORATION FOR US. JUST GO...ALSO TELL GLIN'KHARR, I'LL SEE HIM WHEN WE GET BACK."]

"Understood."

Loren tipped the contents of the pack into the open wall panel and ran for his shuttle.

After repeating the same procedure with the other gel packs, Loren preped his shuttle for take off. Naril's shot had destroyed the weapon controls system, but the shuttle still could fly.

Hoping Naril's shot didn't do any other damage, Loren powered up his shuttle's systems and guided it through the blue glow of the bay's force field and into open space.

Respectfully submitted, Kevin Thigpen

[NRPG: Okay, the nanites are in place on the station and Loren is running for his life. Hope you guys aren't too busy to pick up a counselor turned trader. Also, I hope the time is alright. I guess Jerran looked at the chrono timer lots of times during the HARBINGER's evasion of the REVENGE.]

• * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
  

Ens. Loren Landers *
USS FEYNMAN CNS *

• *
  

Commander Kweee Hwichk *
SFDIPTF XO *

• *
  

Lt. Conrad Robicheaux (Ro'bo'sho) *
SFDIPTF Cultural Attache *

• * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *