USS Feynman MAR 1997: Difference between revisions

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

TOTAL MARCH 1997 POSTS: 18

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GRAND TOTAL POSTS: 736

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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 *

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

USS FEYNMAN: Catch Up

by Andrew Catterick 3-11-1997

SD: 90311.1400
MD: 5.0340
Scene: Bridge

Chief T'meq at tactical spoke up. "One of the fighters is gaining on us. It will be within firing range in ten seconds."

"Full power on aft shields. Captain to the bridge. Helm, evasive maneuvers." The Ensign's fingers were flying at OPS, and the FEYNMAN tilted to one side as the fighter flew past underneath the hull, firing full phasers at the same time.

The ship rocked as Zane stepped onto the bridge. "Damage report."

"Direct hit on aft shields. No damage," reported T'meq.

Zane took up his seat, as Krysa, who had followed him onto the bridge, took hers. "Where are the fighters now?"

"One remained aft, one is forward of the ship. The third has been,destroyed."

Scene: Cockpit, Lead Craft

Flight Lieutenant Gerach screamed out in rage as his craft shook from the turbulence triggered by the explosion of his port wingman. The other, now directly behind the Federation destroyer turned on its tail and began to run. Gerach cursed the young fool but deep within him, in the last small bit of free thought that had not succumbed to his anger understood. It was a useless fight and he knew he would die if he did not run. It didn't matter. He would kill as many as he could. With a surreal calm he spun his craft around and opened fire.

Scene: Bridge, USS FEYNMAN

Zane watched as the small fighter spun around and charged his ship. It was an act of desperation but one that could prove to be more than just a nuisance. "Divert 60% power from aft shields forward. Lock on to fighter." He paused and watched the small vessel charge down upon the FEYNMAN, its dual cannons firing wildly. He would give him one chance. The ship began to buck with the impact of the attack. "Damage?"

"Shields holding. Impact to primary hull, deck one in 3 seconds." The TAC calmly announced.

Zane frowned. What a waste. "Fire."

Raw energy ran down the discharge conduits along both sides of the primary hull. They joined near the center and lanced out at the kamikaze. In less then a second it was over.

"Status of the third craft?"

"Leaving sensor range now."

Zane nodded at the answer. At least one of them had understood the odds.

____________________________________________

MD: 5.0630
Scene: 10 Forward.

The pre-shift breakfast crowd was not its normal lively environment. Instead the crew sat in a quiet shock. A few spoke in whispers but most stared out into space or down on their meals. Zane spotted Krysa over at her usual corner table. After the excitement of the red alert an hour earlier she had decided against returning to her quarters for less than an hour of sleep. Besides, with all that had happened sleep had alluded her. Reaching the table Zane dropped down into one of the comfortable seats. Seconds later Bat had arrived with his usual morning meal.

He watched her push some food around her plate with her fork. "We're on our way back to our original position. Barring any more excitement we should be there by 1100 hours. Hopefully we'll be able to find some sign of Jerran and his team. We've been out of contact much to long.

"And what about the other away team?" Bat demanded.

"They'll be alright. I'm sure by now they've come up with something interesting. And if not they've probably moved on to SV107."

"hmmmpf." With that he stormed back to the bar.

Krysa looked up from her plate. "He's taking the doctors death very hard."

"We all are." Zane answered looking out into the nebula. "Still, two peas in a pod."

Despite her mood she smiled. "Bat liked nothing better than to sit an complain with the good doctor. I think they used to see who could snarl the longest."

"We all have our memories. We just have to hang on to them. As Commander Koreth might say, if Glin'kharr had to die he was lucky enough to die well."

Krysa just shrugged. She never understood this warrior type attitude that some of her fellow officers, Zane included, believed in. To die was to die, there was nothing good about it.

"What about Dee?"

Zane leaned back in chair and sipped at his coffee. Dee had been nothing but trouble since she set foot on FEYNMAN. It was too bad, he mused, that she had not become caught-up in the struggle in sickbay. "I'd like nothing better that to strand her somewhere in this Nebula. I'm sure I wouldn't have too much trouble convincing Fleet as to the necessity of it. But, its not worth the hassle that it will entail. And knowing Dee she'd find some where to escape. So I guess the only real option is to turn over to SILVER security. ZINDERNEUF due to commence operations soon. Rumour has it that its prison is going to be for the hard cases only. And a place full of psychotic criminals who can't be rehabilitated sounds just about right for Dee."

"I hope so. Although I wouldn't be surprised if she ended up running the place."

Zane considered the idea for a few moments before nodding. "Well that will be someone else's problem."

__________________________________________

MD: 5.1500
Scene: Bridge

"Captain's log, supplemental. We have been at our original patrol station for just short of four hours with no sign of Lt. Jerran's team and I am worried. On our return course we diverted long enough to pass by the Husnock moon which CDR Maril's team had been investigating. It had been abandoned but we did pick up a small message buoy that had been left behind. It seems that the base had failed to meet with the parameters Admiral Nicholas had given us. The team has since moved on to ST107 and we have received a coded transmission from Maril letting us know that they have arrived safely.

FEYNMAN is now heading in the general vicinity of the what Lt. Jerran had pinpointed as a prime location for a Xanthandi base. It is my hope that we meet up with them soon.

End Log.

<<<NRPG>>>

Just playing a little catch up.

Jerran's team. We are still 2-3 hours behind you so I'm figuring by the time we get there you guys will be in the middle of your escape from the base. Assuming you manage to retrieve Allard et al with that CONSTITUTION heading your way;)

Maril's team: So how is ST107 looking?

Jason:???

Respectfully,
-Captain Zane, Commanding Officer, USS FEYNMAN
-Commander Horatio Sinclair, Fleet Intelligence Officer, BLUE FLEET

USS FEYNMAN: Tie-In Post

by Kevin Thigpen 3-12-1997

Stardate: 90312.1508
Scene: Xanthandi supply depot
MD: 5.0730-5.0830

[NRPG: Begin Mike's Post]

Rounding back the way they came, shock stopped them as they faced a group of Xanthandi, equal in size, and from the initial look, as well armed. J.C. and the NCO's immediately dropped to the station deck and squeezed off rapid rounds at the Xanthandi patrol. Reacting quicker, the FEYNMAN and Kzin people were able to drop a few of the aliens before they fell back for cover. J.C. roared to his ACSO,

"Alex, get us out of here." Tamarov slapped his badge, a bit harder than usual.
--------------------------------------------------

[NRPG: Begin my post]

Loren felt the familiar tug of the transporter beam and something else. The tug wasn't like the other times he had transported. This one was different. He realized how different when the world around him went a white-gray and then returned to the way it had been.

He wasn't on the HARBINGER. He wasn't where he had been before. He recognized the place, for it was right outside docking bay three, where his shuttle landed. Looking around he saw none of the security detail that had come to rescue him.

Slowly, he realized that something went wrong with the transport, probably at the source. Somehow he had been beamed to another part of the station.

Loren knew he still needed to find out what happened to the rest of the detail. If they were in trouble it was more than likely going to be up to him to get them out of whatever trouble they were in.

----------------------------------------
[NRPG: More of Mike's post]
[SNIP Scene]

As soon as they picked off a Xanthandi merc, another seemed to take his place, then another. Seconds that seemed as hours elapsed. The Kzin was an excellent shot, and rarely did his shots not find their mark. T'boc stopped firing, probably to change the charge in his rifle. More minutes of time.

"T'boc, what are you..." J.C. started to turn to face the Vulcan squad commander. The business end of a double-barreled Xanthandi Ravanger rifle nudged him sharply in his cheek. T'boc was relieved of his rifle, and had two mercs' weapons aimed at his own head, with Tul'ru in the same situation.

Seven of them, three of us. Not good.* J.C. moved to upright himself,

but the barrel of the Ravenger in his abdomen changed his mind for him.

Behind the group, two Xanthandi stood, officers by the looks of them. The taller one spoke to the ones gurading the FEYNMAN team, "Fry them here!, then clean up the deck!" ordered the pompous Xanthandi.

"NO!" The shorter, and older one countermanded, thankfully. "I have some questions for them." He motioned for the guards to allow Tul'ru and J.C. to stand. They were 'helped' up ungraciously.

"Solor!" the first looked at his companion in disbelief, "We cannot! Our orders..." but stopped. The older one, Solor had drawn his sidearm, and applied it to the side of the younger one's head.

"Lendon, these are MY orders." Solor spoke in such a nonchalant, placid tone, one would think he was discussing the weather. "I suggest you rethink which orders you wish to follow." Lendon opened his mouth to reply, but wisely chose to shut it as directed. Solor walked over to face Tul'ru. Two guards directed their weapons at each of the team's members.

"Ah. More Tukhba for the factories. " Tul'ru's growl was evident at the Xanthandi curse, who ignored the Kzin. Lendon behind him, Solor faced T'boc.

"Why were you chasing the trader Darrien. And where did you take him!?" asked Solor.

"We've been chasing his for a week now. He sold us some...WHUMP!" J.C.'s explanation was cut short by the butt of a Ravanger impacting the side of his head. J.C. actually giggled, *Silly Xanthandi. Why are you making it dark. We can still find you* as the CSO met the floor and darkness. Solor casually glanced at the fallen CSO,

"I didn't ask you, and from your tone, I don't believe you regardless." Wheeling to Lendon, Solor ordered,

"Escort these two to the Master's office. I'll question them there" He turned to leave, but paused and indicated to J.C.,

"pick that one up and bring him. ALIVE!" Solor glared at Lendon. "If he is not, you shall join him..." ----------------------------------

[NRPG: More my post]

Solor and the rest of the detail set off in the opposite direction as Lendon turned to carry out his 'new' orders.

Lendon reluctantly but obediently grabbed J.C. and pulled the unconscious man to his feet and carried him into the hallway. Dragging the bedraggled man through the corridor, rather roughly, Lendon made his way to the Master's office.

Grimacing he recalled how ruthless the Master and Solor were. Mercy was something long since forgotten for the men, or something never even learned. Lendon, thought that the man he was dragging was about to learn what a bad day really was.

Several meters down the corridor and rounding a corner he came face to face with the trader Darrian.

With a surprised look, "We thought the boarders had captured you. It would be a shame for you to miss conversing with the Master. He was so looking forward to conducting business with you." Lendon finished his last sentence with an insidious sneer plastered on his face.

"Lendon," whom Loren now Darrien had had the displeasure of meeting early that morning, "you speak as if this would have been a stroke of good fortune."

"Maybe," more of the sneer.

"Well, I'll tell you this much," Loren moved right up to the Xanthandi's face, "I think you're a fool."

Before, the man had time to react, Loren brought his knee up into the man's crotch. A pained look crossed his face before he crumpled onto the floor.

Thank god, the Xanthandi aren't too alien* thought Loren as he realized

that in a bona fide fight he couldn't have held his own against the man he just had incapacitated.

A swift kick at the Xanthandi's head ensured that he would not be moving for a while.

Next, removing J.C.'s restraints and placing them on Lendon, Loren bundled the Xanthandi into a nearby access panel where no one was likely to look for some time. A strip of cloth torn from the Xanthandi's trousers would ensure that his yells for help would go unheeded.

Propping J.C. up against the wall, Loren next set about to revive his friend and crewmate. It took only moments for the CSO to wake up with a rousing start.

"Uhhh...how long have I been out," groggily J.C. asked rubbing his head.

"Not too long fortunately."

"They have T'boc and the Kzin," J.C. said as his mental faculties began to come up to par.

"They're probably being taken to be questioned by the Master. I can get us there, but it'll be up to you to get them out. I can't blow my cover just yet."

"Alright, let's get going," J.C. added starting to stand shakily.

Respectfully submitted,
Kevin Thigpen

[NRPG: Well, here is the patch post Mike. I leave the rescue of the other crewmates up to you. This is kind of a backpost occurring from about 0730 to 0830. In my post at about 1340 Loren escapes from the station and the nanites trash it. So Mike, we have LOTS of free time to have fun on the station (from 0830 to 1300 at least). We just can't blow Loren's cover though to remain consistent. After the 'fun' on the station is over we can get back to Joseph's last post where we head to rendezvous with the FEYNMAN.]

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Ens. Loren Landers *
USS FEYNMAN CNS *

*

Commander Kweee Hwichk *
SFDIPTF XO *

*

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

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

USS FEYNMAN: Cavalry

by Andrew Catterick 3-12-1997

SD: 90312
Scene: ST-107

In the blackness a screen flickered to life. A small amber cursor flashed patiently sending eerie shadows across walls that had remained dark for almost 50 years. Queries were sent out to the farthest reaches of the installation and were returned in an instant. Life began to swell. A multitude of characters and images flashed across the screen as it sought out the element that had triggered its attention.

In a millisecond the answer was relayed from the passive sensors: small craft had entered the system. It 'thought' back those fifty years to a time when the base had been inhabited by its masters. To the time when suddenly they were gone. No warning, just gone. It had continued with its duties but soon its adaptive functions deduced that the masters might not be returning. No matter. It could wait.

Now someone approached. It's subroutines ran through options for action. Its maintenance programming sought to reactivate the base and open the docking bay doors. As was normal procedure all incoming craft would be 'captured' by a tractor beam and guided safely into land. This directive was immediately overridden by the defensive systems. The masters had left. 'Reason: Unknown' pulsated in the middle of the now blank screen. It quickly shifted to 'Origins: Unknown' as the passive sensors gathered more information on the approaching craft. It was decided more information was needed before a decision could be made. An alert was sent out to all security functions to monitor the newcomers. As the systems began to once again shut down to quietly observe the visitors it decided it would risk one brief transmission. A small dish at the center of the base twisted itself towards the planet below.

______________________________________

MD: 5.1400
Scene: Bridge

"Captain, we're receiving some interesting information from probe number 4."

Zane spun around in his seat. Finally something. "Explain."

"The readings are being distorted by the nebula but it appears to be massive energy surges and discharges bearing 342 mark 8. It looks to be several ships. And I think the energy charges maybe weapons fire."

"Helm plot an intercept course, full impulse." Zane ordered before hitting the intercom contact on his armrest. "Red Alert, all hands to battlestations. I repeat, all hands to battle stations."

<<<NRPG>>>

Just a short one to a) throw Max and crew a little fun. Think HAL-9000;) b) catch us up with Jerran and company.

To keep things in the timeline the FEYNMAN will be arriving after the teams are all back onboard with Jerran and are running from the CONSTITUTION that is powering up.

Kevin: Nice bridge!

Jason: Thanks for the map of the base. Its really helpful being able to see something!

Respectfully,
Andy

-Captain Zane, Commanding Officer, USS FEYNMAN
-Commander Horatio Sinclair, Fleet Intelligence Officer, BLUE FLEET

USS FEYNMAN: Arrival, Part 2

by Melanie Pocknall 3-15-1997

MD: 5.0855
In orbit around ST-107

>"Tarrant to Cousteau"
>
><Cousteau here, we've completed our initial scans. We've detected no
>power readings or life signs.>
>
>"Agreed Cousteau. I suggest we dock in one of those three bays
>and begin our search."
>
><"I concur"> announced Meleah. Maril quickly added, <All shuttles,
>follow us in.>

SCENE: Back on the 'Cousteau'

Meleah entered the co-ordinates that Tarrant sent over, and then engaged the impulse engines. The entire crew was silent as they flew up to the large structure. Whether it was in awe or fear that if they spoke, Meleah would fly them into the shields, no-one would admit.

As they flew up to the shields, everyone held their breath. Everyone except Meleah, that is. She was impressed at the sight of the structure but considered the practice of holding one's breath to be detrimental to one's health. Therefore, she chose just to remain silent as the shields grew larger until they were filling the whole screen.

Meleah made a course adjustment, and the shuttle veered slightly to go behind the shield. There was no hole visible in the building, just solid walls. One of the crew pointed at the wall and commented on the lack of a parking space, to which Meleah calmly replied, "I believe Cmdr Koreth will take care of that."

Just after she had spoken, a hole appeared in the side of the building. Meleah assumed that Tarrant had opened the hole with his thoughts, although quite how he did that she didn't know but resolved to ask him later.

Without warning, three tractor beams emerged from various points along the outside wall. Each beam latched on to one of the ships and started pulling them towards the docking bays.

Meleah had almost moved to go to full reverse when Maril stated not to. "Let it take us in. Cmdr Koreth, did you trigger this?"

Tarrant's voice came back. [I didn't do anything. Either it's programmed to bring visitors in or someone's there waiting for us.]

"I don't like either of those," muttered Jazz from her seat. Maril chose to ignore the comment, concentrating on giving Tarrant some orders. Meleah noted the comment but decided to save the comment for analysis at a more convenient time.

The shuttles moved towards, then into, the base. The bay, although bare, was lit up, as if someone knew they were coming, and decided to be helpful. As the crews stepped out of the shuttles, Koreth commented, "I don't like this. It seems like someone, or something, knows we're here."

"Could it just be automated?" Maril asked.

"Considering that we do not yet fully understand Husnock technology, anything is possible. And as I am not picking up any life signs," she added, looking at her tricorder which was busily picking up readings, "which would seem to indicate that the tractor beams were activated by our approach."

"We'd better split up. Cmdr, Lt, choose a team to go with you. We need to find out just what this base was used for."

"Aye, sir," the two officers said at the same time. Meleah went to pick out a group of scientists and engineers, and then headed towards the nearest wall. "We need to find a transporter. There may be one along this wall."

The team scanned the wall, and it was Chief Pomeroy who accidently found the transporter. The team went through the transporter, Meleah first, to find out what the last setting was.

NRPG:

Well, we're in. I'll let you know later in the week where Meleah ended up :)

And, congratulations Andy, on the TFZ CO job!

Sincerely yours, Lt Meleah, CSciO, USS FEYNMAN, Silver Fleet.

Melanie.

USS FEYNMAN: A Terrible Thing To Waste A Mind...

by Michael "Mike" Dailey 3-16-1997

SD: 90316.1500
MD: 5.0815-5.1130
Scene: Xanthandi Supply Outpost
Station 'Masters' office

The Master regarded the Kzin and Vulcan unmoving before his desk. Disgusted by the presence of the cream-coloured Kzin named Thul'ru, he shot a sneer towards Solor for bringing that thukbah into his office. The older Xanthandi officer was apparently not accustomed to such rebukes, verbal or otherwise. *I'll deal with you later, old one,* thought the Master.

As for the prisoners, the Kzin would be just one more to toil in the factories for the few days until their kind perished from deprivation of food or water. The Vulcan, however, would perhaps prove beneficial onboard one of their ships of the line. Starfleets' wretched SILVER had caused many shortages lately, in manpower especially. Damn, them. But first some questions. The Master indicated to the four sentries who had escorted Thul'ru and T'boc into the office,

"Leave us. Return to your posts." Hesitation for a few seconds was all the Master would tolerate. "Now!" The spun towards the door before the Master finished his one word command. A look cast at Solor bid him to do the same. The Xanthandi officer bowed slightly in salute, and left.

Totally alone with the unrestrained prisoners, the Master reached underneath his desk. As either a bold statement of the Master's self-assuredness, or in direct challenge, he picked up his Ravanger rifle and lay it onto his desk in plain sight (and each) T'boc and Thul'ru. In a placid tone as if discussing current events with an old friend, the Master looked to T'boc, utterly disregarding Thul'ru.

"Now, enlighten me why you were chasing the trader Darrien?" he inquired. T'boc, staring at some point beyond the Master, gradually closed his eyes. "Vulcan, heed this one and only warning. I am in no mood and have no desire to play games..."

"We will say nothing to Kovoka like you!" Growled Thul'ru. Infuriated, the Master spun in his chair to Thul'ru.

"Be silent, thukbah!" he roared. He lay a hand on his Ravanger, but regained his composure. "I see you do not fear death. You shall make a fine carpet to some waste-extraction room." As they traded insults, the Master became aware he was perspiring, realizing that it had grown quite warm in the office. *I didn't thing I had become this worked up,* he thought. Thul'ru turned to T'boc, who still remained silent throughout their verbal exchange. Eyes still closed, and Thul'ru's acute hearing picked up very slow breathing.

"I really don't care if you answer me or not, for I will get the information I need from your companions when we apprehend them." said the Master, "and it will only be a matter of time until we do," he added, full of himself and his overflowing self-confidence.

Thul'ru knew continuing to badger the station Master was courting death, but he no longer cared. The Master's hand dropped from the rifle, and Thul'ru slightly flinched, expecting his demise to come. Instead, the Master dropped back into his chair, eyes bulging wide open, as if in horror or pain beyond conception. His mouth agape, but uttered no sounds save a few short gasps.

Looking closer, Thul'ru saw a single tear roll it's way down the Maters' cheek. The glimpse of Thul'ru's face was the last sight the Master saw before the Scepter came to claim him.

Beside Thul'ru, T'boc exhaled a long breath, regarded the Master, who now was slumped over the back of the chair lifeless. Quietly, T'boc muttered to Thul'ru, "It is done. But I ask that you do not discuss what has happened." Thul'ru took an involuntary step back, understanding what had happened. He had heard stories about Vulcan mysticism, and their tales of those who mastered the mind disciplines.

"T'boc, I am once again grateful to you and your crewmates." said the Kzin. Still shaken somewhat, even for a Kzin warrior.

[SNIP]

"Are you sure this is the right way, DARRIEN?" asked J.C. Feeling lightly uncomfortable at their new farce. Walking unarmed in the lead, Loren guided them from the rear to the Master's office, occasionally poking and prodding his 'prisoner' in the back with his own rifle.

I'll get you later, Loren.*

"I'm sure. Just shut-up and let me do the talking." said the Counselor. J.C. turned and shot him a stern glance, but then eased up. Rank had dissolved between the two as they had come to see life and death together in the recent months.

Reaching the doors, J.C. and Loren paused while Darrien touched the door page. Nothing happened, frowning, Loren tried a second time. The doors opened to them, showing T'boc with a rifle aimed at them, and Thul'ru standing ready to pounce. The Master lay motionless in his chair, presumable dead.

"What happened," both asked in chorus. Thul'ru eased his posture. T'boc came to attention, and spoke in almost a whisper.

"Sirs, as a former Kolinahru Master, I regret my actions. I ask that we not discuss it further." J.C.'s mouth dropped in shock. Recalling bits of T'boc's service record in his mind, J.C. remembered he had gone through the standard training of all Vulcans, but didn't remember anything about the advanced disciplines. And T'boc was still considered a youth at 65, barely old enough to be a Master."

"O.K., let's get out of here..." said the CSO.

Submitted,
Mike Dailey
splatter2@qtm.net

NRPG *

K.T. - Take it from here... there's time to wrap this up, then us be back on our ships before 1340.

RE: Hal... I liked 2010 better than 2001. IMHO.

Cheers! Mike D.

+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+
= Lt., j.g. J.C.M. Allard CSO USS FEYNMAN Alt.Starfleet.RPG =
+ Lt. [Dr.] D'doj Zzawj Ckorji - UNASSIGNED SILVER FLEET +
= Lcdr. Jordon Kabreigny CNS USS BURKE GREEN FLEET =
+ Lcdr. Ion Steiner L.C. SFDITF TEAM ALPHA-1 SFDITF +
= Capt. Johan Bauer COMSFDITF "All I ask is a tall ship..." =
+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+

USS FEYNMAN: Getting Out

by Kevin Thigpen 3-17-1997

SD: 90317.1413
MD: 5.1130--5.1300
Scene: Xanthandi Supply Outpost
Station 'Masters' office

Reaching the doors, J.C. and Loren paused while Darrien touched the door page. Nothing happened, frowning, Loren tried a second time. The doors opened to them, showing T'boc with a rifle aimed at them, and Thul'ru standing ready to pounce. The Master lay motionless in his chair, presumable dead.

"What happened," both asked in chorus. Thul'ru eased his posture. T'boc came to attention, and spoke in almost a whisper.

"Sirs, as a former Kolinahru Master, I regret my actions. I ask that we not discuss it further." J.C.'s mouth dropped in shock. Recalling bits of T'boc's service record in his mind, J.C. remembered he had gone through the standard training of all Vulcans, but didn't remember anything about the advanced disciplines. And T'boc was still considered a youth at 65, barely old enough to be a Master."

"O.K., let's get out of here..." said the CSO.

---------------------------------------------------------

"J.C., wait. We may not have far to go."

Turning J.C. looked quizzically at the counselor. With eyes narrowing, "What do you have in mind?"

"With T'boc's help, I think I can access the station's comm system. With all the ships floating around out there. There has to be some relatively heavy comm traffic. We could piggyback a signal to the HARBINGER and they would never notice it...hopefully."

"I believe the counselor is right," chimed in T'boc.

Allard thought for a moment. "Alright do it." He didn't relish the thought of another trip through the station right now.

[SNIP]

Hours seemed to pass as T'boc and Loren labored at the ODN junction combination comm relay unit behind the wall in the Master's office.

The group had taken refuge several meters behind the wall. According to T'boc, the Master wasn't dead just yet, but had come pretty close. Still, continuing to discuss the matter almost seemed to make the Vulcan uncomfortable.

"I believe we have it, sir," finally responded T'boc.

"Alright stand ready men," ordered Allard.

With a little trepidation he nodded to T'boc to activate the jerry-rigged system.

With Vulcan calm T'boc tapped out their text message. A few seconds passed and then a few more seconds.

Allard was obviously getting nervous. Loren was showing signs of worry about the plan too. Only Thul'ru and T'boc sat motionless waiting for a return signal.

The exposed panel began blinking...once...twice...then several times more.

"I don't recognize the code, but I think they're acknowledging us," reported T'boc.

"The HARBINGER?" questioned Loren.

"It would have to be, sir. The number of light flashes corresponds to the exact number of people in our team that originally left the FEYNMAN. Of course this is not conclusive evidence."

"Okay, then. Send them our coordinates, T'boc. We really don't have much of a choice in this matter."

In a low growl Thul'ru said, "And hope the transporters don't malfunction this time."

T'boc tapped out the appropriate code on the panel along with coordinates and the number for beam out. He excluded Loren from the count.

Moments later a response came in the form of several more light flashes.

"Hmmm...seven light flashes. Either that means seven seconds to beam out or something I know not what," stated T'boc.

"If that's the case, I better take my leave now then. I still have some unfinished business here," piped in Loren.

As Loren took several steps back away from the group, Allard stood in the confined space to express his concern. Leaving the counselor on the station alone was not high on his list of things he wanted to do.

Nevertheless, Allard only had time to open his mouth before the beam grabbed them.

Once again, Loren turned his attentions to the mission, now that his crewmates were safe...or so he hoped.

Respectfully submitted,
Kevin Thigpen

[NRPG: This was sort of quick, but I had to get it out. Well, we are all caught up now. I guess we can return to Andy's post where the FEYNMAN is picking up those bursts of weapons fire. Take it away Joseph.]

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Ens. Loren Landers *
USS FEYNMAN CNS *
*
Commander Kweee Hwichk *
SFDIPTF XO *
*
Lt. Conrad Robicheaux (Ro'bo'sho)*
SFDIPTF Cultural Attache *
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

USS FEYNMAN: Act III

by Andrew Catterick 3-19-1997

SD: 90319.1100
MD: 5.1430
Scene: Bridge
[Excellent, LT, but I also see you've brought along some unexpected guests. What's your status?]

"All beam weapons functional, with three makeshift torpedoes and one jury rigged quantum torp."

[Good. That ship is almost in range. We'll take the point while you cover us with whatever firepower you have.]

"Roger that, FEYNMAN. Helm, come to 25 mark 4. Ahead one quarter impulse."

"Battlestations! Bring us around and lock weapons on her engineering.. Have we got anything on her?"

"Weapons locked. We'll be in range in 37 seconds. No transponder code is being sent out but visual markings place her as USS REPUBLIC, NCC 1371."

"REPUBLIC?" Zane said as he tried to remember what had happened to her. "Anyone?"

"She was lost on a rescue mission to the New India colony. Starfleet received a distress call from the science outpost there and REPUBLIC responded. Three weeks later after no word from the base or REPUBLIC, USS EAGLE was sent to investigate." Krysa said, skimming down the report on her console.

"And?"

"Nothing was there. Ship, base, even the planet had dissappeared. No traces."

Zane sucked in his breath. "What were they working on New India?"

"All it says is classified."

Zane filed that one at the back of his mind.

"We're in range."

"She's seen us!" On the viewscreen REPUBLIC veered violently to port.

Zane looked out at her. He had yet to see a starship as beautiful as the improved CONSTITUTION heavy cruiser. He wouldn't enjoy this at all. "Fire!

REPUBLIC, still in her dive shook violently as the twin impact of phaser and torpedo fire slammed into her secondary hull. She returned fire but was still on the fringe of her firing range. The phasers merely grazed FEYNMAN's shields as she dove down for the kill.

"Her starboard shields are gone. Warp drive is offline."

"Open channel."

"Channel open."

"This is Captain Zane of USS FEYNMAN standdown your weapons and surrender."

The answer came in the form of phaser blasts against FEYNMAN's fore shields. This time, the range decreased, the destroyer bucked in protest.

"Take out those aft phasers!" Zane ordered frustrated but not surprised the Xanthandi had not taken the olive branch. As FEYNMAN continued to rake the REPUBLIC, Jerran brought his ship directly in front of the REPUBLIC, its weapons targeting the cruisers main weapons. In seconds it was over. REPUBLIC was defenceless and crawling along at 1/2 impulse.

"FEYNMAN to cruiser, come to a full stop. Now!"

"They're trying to make it back to the base sir!"

"Damage report on her?" Zane asked.

"She's done. Offensive and defensive systems are destroyed. Warp engines destroyed, impulse failing, life support failing, medium casulties. She's got a lot of personnel aboard."

Zane considered the report. He'd have liked to capture her but taking the ship would tie up alot of his crew and they were out numbered. Besides there was really nothing left to save. "How long before she reaches the base?"

"At that speed a little over five minutes."

"FEYNMAN to Xanthandi captain. You are in possession of a stolen Starfleet vessel. It is my intention to destroy her. You have three minutes to vacate the vessel."

Almost immediately lifepods began to shoot from points all around the dying ship. In a few minutes the frequency declined and then stopped. "Is that everyone?"

"No lifeforms remain aboard." Krysa answered. "They killed the injured." She added quietly.

"TAC coordinate fire with the MIRANDA, lock weapons on her weak points."

"Weapons locked and ready."

"Are the lifepods clear?"

"Yes sir."

Zane rose from his seat. "Attention to orders!" Instanly all of the bridge crew came to their feet. He took one last look. Even with her battle scars she was a thing of beauty. "Fire."

__________________________________________
MD: 6.0200
Scene: Ready-room

"Captain's log supplemental,

We are now in orbit of the second Husnock base and from only cursory scans it seems much more promising than the first. Commander Maril and his teams have successful landed inside and have just begun to explore. I am quite excited at the possibilities. I'm also planning to lead an away team down to the surface of the planet below. Initial scans show little evidence of any Husnock presence but I find it unlikely that they would ignore the resources the world surely must offer. Besides I could use a breath of fresh air.

Jerran and his team have completed their phase of the mission successfully. A major Xanthandi convoy was left in disarray and Dr. Pasteur and his nanites were placed into the supply depot's computer core. By the time we had left they had successful brought down the base its surrounding ships and had managed to stow themselves away on some of the escaping vessels.

I am still feeling a tremendous sense of loss at having to destroy the REPUBLIC but there was little else I could do. What is more troubling, however, is the fact that there are so many old Starfleet vessels floating around. Obviously an old CONSTITUTION is not too much of a threat but a few weapons and shield upgrades and she could be. But where are the Xanthandi getting these vessels?"

<<<NRPG>>>

Just moving us along...now what will the planet hold? Any takers for the away team?

As for the New India thing...nothing omnious I just kinda threw it out.

Respectfully,
Andy
---------------------------------------------------------
-Captain Zane, Commanding, USS FEYNMAN
-Commander Horatio Sinclair, Fleet Intelligence, BLUE FLEET
-Commodore Robert Steele, Commanding, TASK FORCE ZINDERNEUF

USS FEYNMAN: A Little Jab Here, A Little Jab There

by Kristen Gant 3-20-1997

Stardate: 90320.1531
Scene: Brig
MD: 5.1800

Dee paced. She knew they *said* that Sparky was dead .. but she couldn't help feeling her skin crawl at the thought of him. And she couldn't seem to get him out of her thoughts. She kept watching him come at her .. over and over and over again. And now being enclosed in this *cage* wasn't helping. She had to get out of here.

She's asked to see the Captain several times and was laughed at each time. They told her he was refusing to see her. He couldn't do that to her! After all she knew his inner secrets and she would tell if she had to.

She groaned realizing he was probably calling her bluff. What would she hold over him by talking .. nothing. She had to make him listen to her. She looked up in triumph at the sound of the brig door opening. He was going to talk to her!

Her frown returned as she saw Krysa walk up to the energy field and stand before her.

"What do you want?" she asked grimly.

Krysa smiled, "Well aside from the fact that I like seeing you locked up .. I have some news for you. The captain and I have spoken about your future. We have decided, with the approval of Starfleet Security, of course, that you will be remanded to Silver fleet's newest correctional facility, ZINDERNEUF."

"I want to speak to your captain!" she demanded, her voice becoming shrill.

The smile on Krysa face deepened, "He doesn't want to speak to you."

Dee roared in frustration, "He has to!" Regaining her composure somewhat, she glared at the Ops officer, "Tell him, he must or else."

"Or else what, Dee," Krysa chuckled, "You've been away from the FEYNMAN far too long to think you still hold the upper hand."

Dee's face paled, but Krysa continued, "I almost feel sorry for you. But that fades away quickly whenever I think about Dr. Glin'kharr, who would still be here if it weren't for you. You deserve everything you get .. and much more, in my opinion."

"I didn't mean for it to happen. I didn't want the doctor to die .. I only had to get away from Sparky."

"Well, now you're away from both of them. And once again, you've brought pain onto this ship." Krysa shook her head, "Don't think that you have anything to say that will have any effect on what is to happen to you now."

She moved in closer to the energy field. Dee was silent unusually silent. "I know, Dee. I know what you were holding over Zane before." She smiled, "And you know what, he's still the Captain, I'm still the second officer .. and you .. You are still going to prison."

Krysa spun on her heels feeling much better then she had since Dee came aboard. Now she was going to really get some sleep tonight!

Scene: Bridge
MD: 6.0600

Krysa stepped lively onto the bridge. She'd slept well the night before and was in an excellent mood. Dee was still locked up and the mission seemed to be falling into place.

"You're here early, Commander." Zane said.

"Yes, sir," she grinned. "I'm in a good mood too."

He smiled, "Are you up to taking command while I lead an away team to the planet?"

She nodded, "Yes, actually, I believe I am."

Regards,
Lt.Cmdr. Krysa Jenn
OPS/2O, USS FEYNMAN

NRPG: Okay Krysa will stay with the ship :} Again, sorry it's been so long since I've written. Keep bearing with me. We officially reach week 10 today, so hopefully only 3 or 4 more weeks of being easily nauseated :}

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

USS FEYNMAN: In Thoughts We Trust

by Melanie Pocknall 3-21-1997

SD: 90321.0348
MD: between 5.0930 and 5.
SCENE: Somewhere within the Husnock base

When Meleah's team had gone through the transporter, they found themselves in a small room which looked nearly identical to the one they had just left. The only exception was a few holes in the wall, which Meleah surmised as being storage compartments, although there was no traces of anything still being stored there. "It would be logical that the first place that the Husnock went after docking would be a cargo bay or the command centre."

One of the engineers went over to one of the holes and went to look inside it. To him, the hole seemed to extend quite far back. He didn't get very far because as soon as he stuck his head in, it set off a proximity force-field that prevented anyone from getting in there. "Someone sure didn't want anyone else getting into those spaces," Jazz commented.

"I concur. The Husnock obviously used force-fields to prevent unauthorised personnel getting at their cargo. A very wise idea," added Meleah.

"But not very helpful," said another engineer. "What if these sort of fields are up everywhere?"

"Then we will have to cope with them the best we can, Chief. In the meantime, we should continue to investigate this room."

"I believe there is nothing else here to find," Meleah stated half-an-hour later. The team had found nothing in the room, and were eager to get to the next place. "I believe we should try the control room next." She motioned for Chief Pomeroy to go first. He stepped up to the white square but nothing happened. He stepped back and then tried again. Still nothing happened. "Uh, oh."

Meleah was busy trying to determine why they could not get out. "Chief, try thinking of something else, perhaps the computer centre."

Jehan nodded and thried again. Nothing.

"What about the living quarters?" suggested one of the engineers.

Jehan shrugged. "It's worth a try." He stepped onto the white square and immediately disappeared. He came back a few seconds later. "That worked," he commented unnecessarily. "But it's almost as if the base doesn't want us to go to the command or the computer centre."

"Or anything that may have been vital to the running of the base," Meleah continued along the hypothesis. "In that case, we may be best to try and find the computer centre using a roundabout route. There is no way to tell if the tranporter has security lockouts as it would seem to have at the moment." She stepped onto the square, projecting the thought of the science labs, and went through the transporter.

---------------
Meanwhile.....

It still couldn't tell if these creatures were harmless. The scan of the shuttles had shown that they knew a little about it but why would the original inhabitants send these creatures instead of coming themselves? It was too soon to trust these creatures. They needed to prove that they were not a threat to the base first.

--------------
Several hours later....

They had searched for at least four hours, maybe more. Meleah knew precisely how long they had spent searching but since no-one asked, she didn't state it. What they had seen had not improved their knowledge of the Husnocks very much but it had been very interesting. All of the base's vital areas had been inaccessible, and after the first hour, they'd given up trying.

Jazz was getting tired though, and as she stepped through the transporter, she inadvertently thought about the computer centre. To her surprise, she actually went through the transporter into the room. The rest of the team followed. Like the other base, there was nothing visible at first but as soon as the team started thinking about consoles and the like, the objects started to appear. To them it appeared that the security lockout had been broken. In reality, and unbeknownest to them, the base had decided to trust the creatures - not entirely but just enough to see what they would do with the information.

-------
NRPG:

Okay, we're in here. I'm trying to bring us up to where the FEYNMAN is but I think we've got some MD-discrepancies again. I've left off at about 5.1300.

Sincerely yours,
Lt Meleah, CSciO, USS FEYNMAN, Silver Fleet.

Melanie.

USS FEYNMAN: A CNS's Thoughts

by Kevin Thigpen 3-22-1997

Stardate: 90322.1809
Scene: Planet Surface
MD: 6.0800

It had been strange for the CO to go to the planet at all. Only late yesterday afternoon had Loren discovered that Glin'kharr had been killed. He had only known the man for a short time and already he could feel the pain of a loss.

The rest of the crew, who knew the doctor better than he, must be suffering ten times more. Pain was a part of Starfleet life and the others were dealing with it in their own ways.

Jerran seemed to have accepted it with his usual sense of stoicism. Loren still had trouble with his mental blocks but assumed since they were still up that his Vulcan half was coping. But Jerran was part Bajoran. Who knew how well that half of his persona was dealing with the loss.

Allard's esper blind nature always seemed a pleasant escape from the rush of constant emotions Loren always seemed to receive from everyone else. Even with Jerran there always were the mental blocks to sense, but with Allard there was nothing...just a big blank. Being friends with Allard always seemed easier, less of a chore because Loren never knew what kind of mental state he was in. Understanding Allard required a bit more work and Loren was always up to a challenge.

Krysa always seemed in a chipper mood, but things had been different with Dees presence. From the reports, Loren knew the pain she had caused but understanding it was a different story. Before leaving the FEYNMAN this morning, Loren had had a chance to speak to her. Immediately he could tell she was in a much better mood. Something had happened which released a great deal of resentment and tension from her mind the night before. Whether the good mood she was in was a result of a genuine release or just a temporary reprieve remained to be seen. Loren would keep an eye on her.

The other crewmembers had been so busy on the Husnock base that Loren had not had a chance to speak to them, yet. This just left the Captain. Loren had opted to accompany the man because he was the backbone of the ship. He had to be strong; there was no choice to it. The counselor needed to see just how shaken the CO was. What better place to do this than as far away from the one place he had to play the role of CO.

Zane propped himself up on one of the rocks nearby.

He reached into the duffel he had brought along and pulled out a large thermos and two plastic mugs, the Starfleet insignia emblazoned on the side of each. "Coffee."

Landers looked a little surprsied but greatly accepted it was a little chilly this early. It may have been 0800 on the ship but it was still only 0600 on this patch of rock.

"Rank has its priveleges." He said as he poured. Screwing the lid back on the thermos he put it back in the duffel and then pointed out towards the horizon. "I'm figuring the sun will rise just over there in a few more minutes. Been awhile since I enjoyed a good sunrise."

"Humans have an old saying that one should always take the time to 'stop and smell the roses,'" added Loren looking off in the direction of the immeninent sunrise.

"Roses, huh counselor," muttered Zane still lost in his own thoughts, eyes scanning the horizon to avoid looking directly at the counselor.

"Sometimes we work so hard that we lose sight of the reason we were working in the first place. And sometimes, even with all our work, things happen we can not control."

Slowly, Zane swiveled on the rock to look at Loren. "I do not blame myself or anyone else in my crew for Glin'kharr's death, ensign. His demise was a direct result of the actions of two people; one of which is now dead and the other is in our custody. If you are about to jump off into some psychological analysis of our responses to a crewmates death, you can take the 'laying blame on oneself' bit off your list."

Zane's tone hadn't been harsh only informative. Everything he said seemed to be said as a statement of fact.

With his ususal smile in place, Loren replied, "I see."

Zane stopped short for a moment.

"Perhaps you expected some clever retort Captain; some high minded terminology to counter what you just said. Frankly, I have none. For your information, I had not intended to bring up Glin'kharr's death, just yet. I only wanted to see you stop and smell the roses."

Zane remained silent. Soon both men returned their attentions to the horizon. The first rays of dawn were creeping up shooting its tendrils all over the sky.

"There is something I do want to say though Captain," interrupted Loren. "Being a Captain requires one to be strong in the face of all kinds of dangers and circumstances. It builds trust with the crew. Other things build trust too. Remember our first pysche session? You said that you were the type who strove to be approachable by any member of your crew. It would go a long way in not alienating your crew if they saw someone who had strengths and weaknesses like themselves; someone who could feel a loss as much as them."

Zane once again prepared to open his mouth in some sort of reply, but Loren cut him off before he was able to speak.

"I'm not saying that you are doing anything amiss in this area. From my understanding, I'm probably just reminding you of something you already now."

Respectfully submitted,
Kevin Thigpen

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Ens. Loren Landers *
USS FEYNMAN CNS *
*
Commander Kweee Hwichk *
SFDIPTF XO *
*
Lt. Conrad Robicheaux (Ro'bo'sho)*
SFDIPTF Cultural Attache *
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

USS FEYNMAN: Trying to Catch Up

by Max Felsher 3-24-1997

SD 90324.0400(GMT)
MD 5.1000
ST108 Base:Shuttle Bay 1

Commander Maril placed his tricorder back in his pocket. He had just scanned the surface of the shuttlebay wall. As he shifted his gaze to the rest of the room, he saw Lt. Commander Koreth striding over to him.

"Any new information, Commander?" Maril asked when Koreth was close enough.

"A little, sir. Not much to go on," Koreth said, not changing the expression on his face. "The computer access is limited from this terminal. Files seem to be accessible and are then protected. However, I have been able to find some of the Husnock ships' design specifications. I copied them onto the tricorder."

"Are there any Husnock ships docked at the base?"

Koreth shrugged. "We can't tell from here. That does sound likely, but this terminal doesn't have access to that sort of information."

Maril nodded. "I will attempt to explore the base further through the transport system. You may use that, look through the corridors, or stay here. Just keep a constant link with the Feynman and notify me of your whereabouts every two hours. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

With the orders given, Maril motioned to four officers and stepped through the transport access.

Intrabase Transport Hub Alpha

Maril rematerialized with the other officers in a gray room similar to the other transport hub he had seen. Although it seemed like a room over from the shuttle bay, Maril realized that it might be on the other side of the base. Apparently, the Husnock had mastered transporters to such a degree that they used them even when going from one place to another on the base. If this did indeed become the new Starbase Epsilon, it would be some marvel.

He turned to the four officers behind him, who had started to scan the room. "I will attempt to go to various locations. If I vanish and do not return within two minutes, attempt to cointact me. If that does not work, return to the shuttle bay by placing your hand on the white square and thinking of the shuttle bay. When you have done that, contact Commander Koreth and follow his orders."

Maril stepped forward and placed his hand on the white identifier. Stepping back, he thought of the computer database. He put his foot forward...

And it hit the wall. Obviously, Maril did not have the clearance to go there

Maril continued trying places. He could not get to the ship docks or the power core room. He would just have to keep trying.

MD 6.0000
Shuttle Bay 1: Shuttlecraft "Cochrane"

"Away Team Commander's Log, Stardate 90324.0000.

Our away team has searched much of the base that we have access to, which is mostly just crew quarters, recreational areas, and maintenance corridors. While we have learned quite a bit about the Husnock in our search, I am still Ixalbi chasing the ghost light in exploring the main structure of the base. We can not reach the command center or any main junction where we could find anything of use in determining what this base was used for.

"All who need sleep have had it, and continued searching. The base is enormous. Even restricted to nonvital areas as we seem to be, it would take the entire crew of the Feynman about twenty-five days to thoroughly explore it. I am going to attempt to access the vital areas by getting close using the transporters and then entering through doors. We do know that there are corridors and a few ladders connecting each level. Hopefully, we will be able to get to a vital area in one way or another.

"This base seems to be almost a living mountain--everything changes more quickly than we can find it, almost as if there is a consciousness behind it. I can not comprehend at the moment the meaning behind it, but I can tell all is not as it should be."

The sun has met the sea,
Commander Onta Maril,
First Officer, USS Feynman,
aka Max Felsher

NRPG: Yes, I do actually have a post out. :)

I just wanted to remind about the intrabase transport system: all the rooms connect to hubs, so that when you want to go somewhere you have to go to a hub, and then choose where you want to go. There probably could be quick links (such as from the command center to the power core), but usually you have to go to the hub first. I'm not sure it was clear when I wrote about it, but that is what I mean.

I know this is still about eight hours behind the rest of the ship. hopefully, whoever posts next can bring us up to speed.

USS FEYNMAN: Discussion and Discovery

by Andrew Catterick 3-25-1997

SD: 90325.1300
Scene: Planet Surface
MD: 6.0820

Zane remained silent. Soon both men returned their attentions to the horizon. The first rays of dawn were creeping up shooting its tendrils all over the sky.

"There is something I do want to say though Captain," interrupted Loren. "Being a Captain requires one to be strong in the face of all kinds of dangers and circumstances. It builds trust with the crew. Other things build trust too. Remember our first pysche session? You said that you were the type who strove to be approachable by any member of your crew. It would go a long way in not alienating your crew if they saw someone who had strengths and weaknesses like themselves; someone who could feel a loss as much as them."

Zane once again prepared to open his mouth in some sort of reply, but Loren cut him off before he was able to speak.

"I'm not saying that you are doing anything amiss in this area. From my understanding, I'm probably just reminding you of something you already now."

Zane considered what Loren had said. He was of course right but it didn't mean that Zane felt any less guilt over his internal struggle in sickbay. He thought back to the picture of Glin'kharr sprawled out dead on the sickbay floor. He had knelt over him consummed with emotion But quickly the voice of his command instructor at the Academy had broken into his grief and chided him for it. People under your command died. It was tragic but you had to move on. And above all you had to show your crew that you had to move on. And so he had risen and put it behind him. But he didn't want to put it behind him and part of him felt ashamed. The two men sat in silence, each lost in his private thoughts. The sunrise was spectaculer with the swirls of the nebula as its backdrop. Slowly the rays of light creeped across the world-encompassing ocean slid across the soil of the small island to greet them. The commander in Zane emerged again and he broke the silence. "Lt. Jerran spoke very highly of you in his debrief."

Loren shrugged. "Just doing my job sir. We all did."

"Nonetheless you did and exceptional one and I have added a commendation to your record. But I'm curious about your job as you put it."

"Sir?"

Zane reached into his duffel and retrieved the thermos to top up both of their coffees. "Why are you a counsellor?"

"I'm not sure I follow."

"Well your actions since you've joined the FEYNMAN, this past mission especially, haven't actually been in the traditional realm of a CNS. Volunteering for a covert operation designed to strike at the enemy isn't exactly in your job-description."

"I've been trained to be adaptive and assumed that I was expected to serve in any way I could."

"Oh I agree. I expect all my senior officers to be able to perform a variety of tasks. I don't want people who are pigoened holed. The question wasn't meant as a criticism. As I said, I commend your performance but that doesn't mean that I'm not a little surprsied. Very few councillors volunteer for combat missions so when I come across one that does I wonder what makes him tick. I've looked over your Academy record and its clear that you could have entered any branch of the service and excelled, security especially, so why counselling?"

"Captain"! One of the security officers shouted as he jogged over. "We've found something."

Zane and Loren stood tossing the contents of their mugs on to the shrubs beside them. "Report."

"Over to the north, just over the rise there, there are some caves. One of the geologists went in to retrieve some samples and found a entry way of some sort."

"An entry-way?" Zane asked.

"You better see for yourself sir."

____________________________
Scene: Just inside the cave opening.

Zane and Loren entered to find most of the landing party milling about the find. The cave was filled with a number of crates and containers of all shapes and sizes. Hearing the captain, Geologist Nicks pulled her head out of the box she had been looking through. "Captain I don't recognize alot of this equipment but I'd say this is for surveying. Someone here was preparing to do some extensive exploring."

"The Husnock." Loren stated.

Zane nodded and looked over to a security officer emerging from the darkness at the back of the cave. "Captain I found a lift at the end of the cave. According to my tricorder the shaft goes down a little over 2km and opens up into a huge cavern."

"Well counsellor, care to do a little spelunking?"

<<<NRPG>>>

Kevin: I left room for Loren to continue the career discussion if your interested. As for the discovery, I can't really see the Husnock not exploring the world beneath them. All the equipment points to the fact that they must have found something. Either way I leave the first phase of our exploration up to you.

Respectfully,
Andy
---------------------------------------------------------
-Captain Zane, Commanding, USS FEYNMAN
-Commander Horatio Sinclair, Fleet Intelligence, BLUE FLEET
-Commodore Robert Steele, Commanding, TASK FORCE ZINDERNEUF

USS FEYNMAN: More Discovery

by Kevin Thigpen 3-25-1997

Stardate: 90325.0132
Scene: Caves on Planet
MD: 6.0830

"Oh I agree. I expect all my senior officers to be able to perform a variety of tasks. I don't want people who are pigoened holed. The question wasn't meant as a criticism. As I said, I commend your performance but that doesn't mean that I'm not a little surprsied. Very few councillors volunteer for combat missions so when I come across one that does I wonder what makes him tick. I've looked over your Academy record and its clear that you could have entered any branch of the service and excelled, security especially, so why counselling?"

Another paused ensued as Loren silently debated on what he was about to say. Allowing those he counselled to know even a little about his emotional state had been one of those things the instructors in his pyschology classes had warned vehemently against. Still, these people, his crewmates now, were different.

"As you know from my service record, I was found on a derelict freighter some light years inside klingon space. I never knew my parents or where I was born. That has not changed even today. Fortunately some klingons found the ship before the life support systems were totally gone and the captain of the vessel took me, the only thing still alive on the ship, as a 'prize'.

Being a betazoid didn't help me in my new klingon settings. Qo'nos wasn't exactly a nice place for me to discover that I had the ability to read others thoughts. The one thing that I remember most about my klingon home was the training. My 'father' was intent that I be a great warrior. I turned out to be a damn good fighter. It was only after I was about 15 that I realized why.

I could anticipate my opponents moves before they could execute them. It never did feel right this advantage I had. I accepted it though like so many other things in my life. Finally, the another clan that opposed my surrogate family decided that with my presence they now had enough reason to claim that my clan was treacherous to the Empire. Seeing as how my clan of Morsk had accepted an outsider into their ranks, treachery was easy to convince the klingon council of. My 'father' was executed along with the rest of the clan, but I escaped. Once again a sole survivor."

Zane listened intently as the counselor related the story. One didn't need to be telepathic to see the pained expression that covered his face.

"Bluntly, I became a counselor because I wanted to give others something I never had the chance to have."

"And?" interrupted Zane after a few moments of silence passed.

"Someone to confide in."

Zane remained quiet understanding the man, who which commanded, now a little more fully. He had skills in other areas yes. In fact, counselling was one of the areas where he had the least amount of skill in comparison to his other abilities. But it was in this area that he had the most motivation and that made a world of difference.

>"Captain"! One of the security officers shouted as he jogged >over. "We've found something."

[SNIP] Scene: Just inside cave opening

Loren carefully scanned the interior of the cave with his eyes. It seemed like any ordinary cave he had seen before with the exception that this one had crate upon crate of equipment lying all over the place.

It was easy enough to identify the equipment as Husnock, but no one present had a clue as to how any of it functioned.

Suddenly another security guard approached Captain Zane. He spoke something in his ear but Loren couldn't hear as he had moved over to a farther corner of the cave opening to take a look at some of the crates the geology team was pouring over.

>"Well counsellor, care to do a little spelunking?"

Giving his Captain that smile that seemed to scream adventure Loren replied, "Absolutely."

Motioning to three guards to accompany him and the counselor, the newly formed group made their way to the lift at the back of the cavern opening.

As they approached the lift, Zane tapped his communicator.

"Zane to FEYNMAN."

A few seconds passed and no response. Zane repeated the procedure and still summoned no response from the FEYNMAN. Next he tried contacting the AVENGER but this yielded no response either.

Loren could sense the tension rising in all present.

The situation had definitely taken a turn for the worse and Loren began to think that perhaps his desire for a little adventure had been somewhat of a bad idea.

A young ensign just recently assigned to the FEYNMAN approached the two senior officers. "Sir's I began picking up some very strong power signals just a few minutes ago coming from about 2 km directly below us. It just appeared as I was scanning a few of those crates."

"Anything else?" replied Zane.

"Uhmmm....there appears to be some strong delacite deposits in this cavern too. It doesn't interfere with our tricorders, but it could create problems with communications. Other than this, all my other scans have been pretty inconclusive."

The Captain thought for a moment obviously debating on exploring the cave further and the mysterious power signals or staying put and trying to contact the FEYNMAN.

Loren could guess what his decision would be. The man was an action taker.

"We'll explore the cave below." he stated. Calling to Hicks he informed him to continue attempting to contact the FEYNMAN and AVENGER.

Perhaps the mysterious power signals were the cause of the new communications problem.

Zane, Loren, and the three security guards stepped onto the lift which suddenly and without warning automatically activated.

Ageless gears began grinding away as the lift cart slowly began descending into the depths below carrying its curious passengers.

The cart began gathering more and more speed as it slid down the shaft connecting the cave opening and what rested below.

After several minutes the lift ground slowly and noisily to a stop. The group found themselves in an enormous cavern with a high vaulted ceiling held up by what appeared to be supports of some kind. This cavern much larger than the opening above also contained crates of every size imaginable.

The lights in the cavern were located at various intervals along the ceiling high above and apparently had just been activated as the lift came down considering how dim they were. Also the place had been visited recently as evidenced by fresh humanoid footprints in the loose sand around the lift.

"Spread out but be cautious. There is no telling what kinds of security safeguards the Husnock may have designed or who's still down here," ordered Zane.

After a few minutes, the team discovered how recently the cavern had been visited.

"Sir," one of the security guards called out. "Over here." Zane and Loren made their way over to the voice.

Off behind a crate rested the charred ribcage of a humanoid form. Running his tricorder over it, Loren reported, "He's definitely Xanthandi. And I estimate his time of death at a few days before we arrived in the system."

Zane didn't need to ask how the man died. It was pretty obvious that something ripped his upper torso from the rest of the body and then burned his corpse.

"Ensign Landers, are you sensing any lifeforms in the area?" queried Zane realizing the utility of telepathic crewmembers now.

"No, sir..." Loren paused momentarily and added, "but I am getting a vague impression of something in the area. I can't pinpoint it though. It's like a big fuzzy area all around us. I'm sorry sir, but I can't describe it any better than that."

"That's alright Ensign," answered Zane.

Pulling his own tricorder he made a quick scan to locate the direction of the power source located earlier.

"Well men, it looks like the power emanations we're looking for originate a few more meters below us. Let's go, but stay sharp. I want tricorders on extreme range and weapons ready but on medium stun. Mr. Landers, the moment you sense anything other than us say something."

Everyone in the five member group nodded their assent.

"Alright then let's move."

Respectfully submitted,
Kevin Thigpen

[NRPG: I took us a little further (and would have done more) except I thought this post was getting a little longer than it should be.

Andy- I took the bait at a little more character development (as if I wouldn't). Also, I hope I didn't do anything out of character for Zane.

Joseph- I figured from your last post that Zane and co. would be unable to contact the ships. It's up to whoever's next how long this comm blackout will last though.

All- Been quiet lately, but I can understand this. RL's been kicking my butt too.]

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Ens. Loren Landers *
USS FEYNMAN CNS *
*
Commander Kweee Hwichk *
SFDIPTF XO *
*
Lt. Conrad Robicheaux (Ro'bo'sho)*
SFDIPTF Cultural Attache *
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

USS FEYNMAN: In Other Places

by Kevin Thigpen 3-28-1997

Stardate: 90328.2139
Scene: Xanthandi Supply Station
MD: 5.1700

"What do you mean nothing's working?" screamed the Master.

The control room of the station was in complete disarray. Open access panels and exposed conduits lined nearly every available wall. Tecs milled about running diagnostics on those pieces of equipment not completely unsalvageable. It had been hours since the renegade HARBINGER had departed the station as well as the mysterious trader named Darien.

In those few hours though the Master had watched his station as well as several docked ships fall apart. It was complete and utter insanity as the ships that had tried to escape had collided with each other causing even more damage. Already the lower docking pylon had been hit by an errant ship and ripped from the station.

Emergency control systems had kicked in sealing the entire lower half of the station preventing the hull breach from ripping the whole station apart. Unfortunately, less than half an hour later these same backup systems then succumbed to the mysterious breakdowns themselves.

To top it all off, a supply ship had departed at about the same time as the HARBINGER. Odds were good that it was out there experiencing the same breakdowns. The Master was hoping against hope that whatever the reasons were for the destruction of his station that it wouldn't spread to the supply convoy to which the supply ship was headed.

"Sir." A voice not quite having that sound of a man but lacking that quality identifying it as a boys interrupted the Master's reverie.

Turning with a look of anger held back by the thinnest of barriers, the Master faced the young Xanthandi.

"We've located the problem. It appears the station is infested with nanites." The boy stood his ground awaiting the next response from the Master.

"I see...is there anything that can be done about this...infestation?" The Master's voice had taken an amazingly calm tone; in direct opposition to his prior behavior.

The young Xanthandi thought for a moment. "High levels of gamma radiation could kill the nanites, but we would have to evacuate the station for several hours afterwards to impose clean-up procedures."

"That is not an option right. How many ships do we still have that are functional and appear not to be infested with these things?"

"Sir, there are six ships that do not seem to be infected by the nanites, but several of them sustained some damage in dealing with the HARBINGER."

The Master turned back to a nearby viewport and looked out as if in thought. "How soon can they be made ready to pursue the HARBINGER?"

The young Xanthandi replied, "The ships can be made ready in about 20 hours."

"Get on it, now. I will lead the pursuit personally and when we catch these traitors..." the Masters voice trailed.

[SNIP]
Scene: Master's Office

"And what happened with this trader Darien?"

Solor shifted uneasily in the Master's presence. His failures were obvious and laying the blame on someone else was impossible. As the Master's first he had failed miserably and now he was answering to these mistakes.

"Apparently, he escaped. Possibly in collaboration with whoever was running the HARBINGER. My guess is he is the one who planted the nanites."

The Master waved his hand nonchalantly and stood. "No matter. Soon I'll have them all."

"Yes, sir. Of course you will, but what about the men we leave on the station. With only six ships, we cannot carry the entire contingent of personnel on the station. Command is ordering all available ships to return to Xanthandi space. In addition, we don't even know where the HARBINGER is right now."

"Solor, tsk, tsk. Do you doubt my abilities? We will find the HARBINGER and as for the men on the station, we will not be leaving them. At least not, the able bodied ones. Furthermore, command is staffed by fools. I am the Master here, or is there something you would care to say about that too?"

Solor could feel a sudden chill in the room upon hearing the Masters words. Quietly he reminded himself of the sheer evil that was the Master's center.

"Of course not. Is there anything else you require of me, sir?"

The Master turned to face Solor and said, "The trader Darien escaped right under your nose. You are a very good first and I really would hate to lose you, but mistakes like that are costly."

Smiling the Xanthandi known only as the Master sat behind his desk. "Leave me now Solor."

Solor stepped towards the doors leading back into the control room breathing a nearly audible sigh of relief.

Seconds later, outside in the control room, tecs continued to mill around attempting to fix this or that. Everyone stopped momentarily as the sounds of a Ravager Rifle split the air. But they only stopped for a moment before continuing on with their duties with an increased sense of urgency.

Back in the Master's office, he silently ordered the computer to increase the airflow ventilation through his office. The smell of burnt meat permeated the air and the Master was no barbarian after all.

Activating a rarely used panel on his desk he retrieved a small case and flipping it open began entering his access code. Fortunately for him, the case and its components operated completely independently from the station. Quickly and with considerable relish, he activated a small transmitter contained within the case.

Within subspace a signal raced towards its destination. In a final completion of its duty it activated a transceiver which in turn sent a burst transmission of its own back along the route of its counterpart. All of this taking only microseconds to complete.

The Master smiled again with even more relish than before as the symbols on the small control panel within the case indicated that he had found the HARBINGER.

In 20 hours, he would have his revenge.

Respectfully submitted,
Kevin Thigpen

[NRPG: Come on guys...did you really think this Xanthandi would take this lying down. I hate to put a deadline on you Jason, but before long the FEYNMAN might could use some of that Housnock tech.<G>

I figured the Xanthandi would have some way to track their own ships.]

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Ens. Loren Landers *
USS FEYNMAN CNS *
*
Commander Kweee Hwichk *
SFDIPTF XO *
*
Lt. Conrad Robicheaux (Ro'bo'sho)*
SFDIPTF Cultural Attache *
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

USS FEYNMAN: How Much RAM Does This Computer Have?

by Max Felsher 3-30-1997

SD 90330.0400(GMT)
MD 6.0800
SV108 Base: Living Quarters Level 6: Vertical Conduit Junction Alpha

Commander Maril stepped onto the floor of the convergence between the unexplored corridor and the vertical passageway that he and a group of four officers--two science, two engineering--had just traveled down. Despite the advanced technology of the Husnock, the passage was little more than a comfortable ladder. The room the team had entered now opened out onto a long corridor that curved away a few hundred meters to the right.

He pulled out his tricorder as the other officers did the same. "What do your scans pick up?" he asked.

The science officer directly to his right answered. "Not much, sir. This deck seems to contain only living quarters."

Maril checked his tricorder before nodding. "Very well. Let's go down to the next level."

As they turned back into the junction, one of the engineering officers, a longtime member of Starfleet, cried, "I'm reading a massive nonpropulsive subspace field! It's at least 30000 millicochranes!"

Maril turned towards the officer. "What would cause such a large subspace field?"

The officer frowned. "Besides a warp drive, only an extremely sophisticated computer...far beyond anything we have."

"Can you get a fix on the source of the field?"

"Working...yes, I think so. It's about five hundred meters in that direction," the engineering officer said, pointing into the wall of the corridor.

"I think we will just have to go around the mountains to reach the town. Mr. Samwell, can you direct us when we reach corridor intersections?"

"Yes, sir," Samwell, the officer who had detected the subspace field, replied.

They walked down the hallways, turning at several intersections, and finally stopped at a large door in the wall. The door opened as they stepped close. There was little light; they could not see anything.

As he stepped in, Maril felt his sense of balance leave him. Suddenly all was black and there was nothing solid near him. He tried to grab hold of something but all he felt was air.

Then, slowly, his sense of coherence returned. He still could not feel anything solid, but somehow he felt better.

Finally, he was able to see something. Many pinpoints of light, like the stars from Mount Cidalva. Then Maril realized that they were stars! He could see several ships, some of them similar to the Husnock ship they had found in the Coalsack on another mission. These all seemed to be traveling with a purpose, however. They were obviously crewed. But how could he be seeing this--he was not in space, for he could still breathe.

Now he was in a room with computer consoles and a group of people working at them. Maril had not seen this race, before. He could only assume they were some race that had taken over part of the base.

As he watched, one of them turned toward him. However, the being simply kept doing what it was doing. Apparently, it could not see Maril. That was strange since there was a great deal of light in the room.

Without warning, the beings' bodies started to lose cohesion. It almost looked as if they were dissolving. The beings' faces were twisted in pain as they lost their lives. All that was left were the consoles.

Suddenly, Maril realized--these were the Husnock. This had to be a recording of some sort.

He was back in space now. The ships had no one to guide them and crashed into one another. Luckily, the base's shields were up and all of the ships were deflected. Most of the ships, however, did not have shields up and burst into flame upon impacts with other ships. Soon, the ships would be decimated to the extent that they would be mere shells. Only a few, the ones far away from other Husnock ships, would escape. The one the Feynman crew had found was probably one of those.

Something made Maril pause. Why would the base's shields be up? Moments before the collective death of the Husnock, ships had been entering and leaving the base. Afterwards, no one would have been alive to turn the shields on. How could the base's shields have gone up?

Suddenly a voice started in Maril's head. *Do not be alarmed. I thought it necessary to show you this recording to explain myself.*

"Who are you?" Maril said out loud.

*I am the collective nanoprocessors of this base, a 'computer' in your terms. My processor is powerful enough to give me the ability to adapt and the power of free will.*

Maril's head whirled. A sentient computer on this Husnock base, abandoned for so long? He had not realized the extent of the Husnock technology. He had many questions to ask....

The sun has met the sea,
Commander Onta Maril,
First Officer, USS Feynman,
aka Max Felsher

NRPG: Sorry to leave everyone hanging, but I wanted to get this out.

Tune in next time as Maril figures out just how smart this computer is. <g>

USS FEYNMAN: Think And You Shall Find

by Melanie Pocknall 3-30-1997

NRPG: My apologies if people get this twice but my computer says that it didn't send the first time.

SD: 90330.0342
MD: 5.1300

The room into which Lt(jg) Jazz Aidonis stepped was not the computer centre. Although that what she had thought about, it appeared that the transporter had taken them to a supply room of some kind, which may have been used to make the computers. There were a few workbenches along the walls which gave no hint as to what they had been used for. It appeared that the transporter had not trusted them after all.

---------
MD: 6.0500

Meleah's team had explored for hours, and now they were all catching up on some needed sleep. Only Meleah was awake. Although deductive reasoning was not her strength, nor was intuition, she was beginning to formulate a hypothesis about what had been happening. The team had not been able to access what they had considered the vital points of the base. This indicated that either the Husnock had put locks on them or something was controlling where they were going. And as someone once said, "Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever is left, however unlikely, is possible."

No life signs had registered when they were scanning the base, and they had not encountered anyone on their explorations. There was the possibility of locks but why then did the other base not have them. This pointed to the base being very important in Husnock terms. A third unlikely idea, which did have some rare precedence, was that the base was controlling the transporters by some method. But that would require the base to be almost sentient. However, it *was* a possibility.

Two hours later, the rest of the team began to wake up. When everyone was awake, they wound their way through the maze of rooms and intrabase transport hubs. At about 0800 hours they were very much disillusioned with what they were finding. One of the engineers commented that they were not seeing much of the Husnock's reputed technology, to which the other retorted back something not entirely complimentary. Fortunately they were both too dedicated to their work to start bickering while on duty.

The first engineer decided to try for the command centre again. He had tried it several times before but with no success, so he was as astonished as everyone else when they all ended up in the command centre. Well, at least they thought it was the command centre but they weren't quite sure until they started projecting thoughts about what they thought they might find there, and objects began appearing around the room. There were many consoles with brightly coloured lights, and a large viewscreen that was presently blank. The team spread out and examined absolutely everything, leaving nothing untouched. It was interesting that no-one stopped to think why they were suddenly allowed access to a vital centre of the base.

Meleah was the one who discovered how the viewscreen worked. One minute she was fiddling with the nearest control panel, absently wondering if that was the control to operate the viewscreen when a message appeared on a small screen above the controls. It simply said "Yes." Anyone else would have been startled but Meleah was only mildy surprised. The odds of the base actually being alive, she had calculated a few hours before, had been 9374662-1. It now seemed that the odds were even less. How else would it have known what she was thinking? Especially since in that brief second that she had thought the thought, she was also thinking about close to one hundred different things. As humans would say in a similar situation, 'It was spooky.'

Using this newfound interactive technology, Meleah was able to quickly find the correct controls and activate the viewscreen. It immediately filled with the stars directly in front of the base. Appearing in the top right-hand corner was the FEYNMAN.

Chief Pomeroy also worked out at that moment, that he could interact with the computers. He let out an exclamation at this finding, causing everyone else to turn around to see what was wrong.

In response to their inquiring looks, he said, "It talked to me!"

Immediately, the engineers were over at his computer examining it. "What did it do precisely?"

"I sort of thought, don't you do anything but list the files? How come I can't access them? And then, on the screen, it said 'because you haven't been given clearance'."

"Husnock's had a completely different language to us. How does it know Federation standard?" asked the youngest scientist, Chief Brianna Rowan.

Meleah's mind had already been analyzing that question. "Perhaps it has been studying the way in which we speak. After all, it can understand where we want to go using pictures, so perhaps it has learnt from us how to communicate with us."

"But that would mean that the base was alive, wouldn't it," asked the cynical engineer.

"Yes. It would," replied Meleah.

--------
NRPG:

Roughly the same time that the base spoke to Maril, Meleah's team discovers a new way to communicate with the base. The base wouldn't have known Federation standard before the team arrived, would it?

Sincerely yours,
Lt Meleah, CSciO, USS FEYNMAN, Silver Fleet.

Melanie.

@@ Line 4: / Line 4: @@
 <div style="float:right; margin-top: 25px; 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 MARCH 1997 POSTS: *TBD*</font>
+<font style="font-size: large; font-stretch: expanded; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS','Arial'; color: royalblue; font-weight: bold;">TOTAL MARCH 1997 POSTS: 18</font>
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USS Feynman MAR 1997: Difference between revisions

Latest revision as of 11:05, 30 October 2024

USS FEYNMAN: Strength and Mortality

by Kristen Gant 3-7-1997

USS FEYNMAN: Time To Go

by Kevin Thigpen 3-10-1997

USS FEYNMAN: Catch Up

by Andrew Catterick 3-11-1997

USS FEYNMAN: Tie-In Post

by Kevin Thigpen 3-12-1997

USS FEYNMAN: Cavalry

by Andrew Catterick 3-12-1997

USS FEYNMAN: Arrival, Part 2

by Melanie Pocknall 3-15-1997

USS FEYNMAN: A Terrible Thing To Waste A Mind...

by Michael "Mike" Dailey 3-16-1997

USS FEYNMAN: Getting Out

by Kevin Thigpen 3-17-1997

USS FEYNMAN: Act III

by Andrew Catterick 3-19-1997

USS FEYNMAN: A Little Jab Here, A Little Jab There

by Kristen Gant 3-20-1997

USS FEYNMAN: In Thoughts We Trust

by Melanie Pocknall 3-21-1997

USS FEYNMAN: A CNS's Thoughts

by Kevin Thigpen 3-22-1997

USS FEYNMAN: Trying to Catch Up

by Max Felsher 3-24-1997

USS FEYNMAN: Discussion and Discovery

by Andrew Catterick 3-25-1997

USS FEYNMAN: More Discovery

by Kevin Thigpen 3-25-1997

USS FEYNMAN: In Other Places

by Kevin Thigpen 3-28-1997

USS FEYNMAN: How Much RAM Does This Computer Have?

by Max Felsher 3-30-1997

USS FEYNMAN: Think And You Shall Find

by Melanie Pocknall 3-30-1997

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