USS Feynman MAR 1997
Home |
New Players |
Join Star Fleet |
Star Fleet Library
USS Ranger |
USS Yorktown |
USS Circe ( Starbase Serenity) |
Free Threads
March 1997 Posts
TOTAL MARCH 1997 POSTS: *TBD*
GRAND TOTAL POSTS: 736
Posts By Each Year
- 1996 Posts - 642 Posts
- 1997 Posts - 94 (Jan-April) Posts
- 1998 Posts - TBD Posts
- 1999 Posts - TBD Posts
USS FEYNMAN: Strength and Mortality
by Kristen Gant 3-7-1997
Stardate: 90307.1356
Scene: Sickbay
MD: 5.0300
The Trader-Monk had regained its feet, and dashed towards Dee's scent. Suddenly, silently, it stumbled, and crashed to the floor before it reached its frozen quarry. Glin'kharr smiled wryly. "Gotcha," he whispered. Then came the pain. He closed his eye and gritted his teeth.
Krysa watched almost in slow motion the events when led to the demise of the FEYNMAN's CMO. The echo of Dee's scream at the sight of the creature still rumbled in her ears even as the bodies of both Trader-monk and Kar'llian stopped moving.
Krysa rushed over to where the doctor had fallen, her heart beating loudly in her chest as she stepped out of the way of the creature. Dee stood mortified still watching it, as though she were afraid it would yet stand and attack once again.
"Doctor? Doctor??" Krysa said, though she was sure there would be no response. "Security to sickbay, NOW!!!" Even as she spoke a couple of med tech's ran in along with Dr. T'del.
"What happened?" The Vulcan asked with studied calmness.
"I'm not completely sure. It happened so fast, and we came in .. it was almost over by then." Krysa said, looking up at her with sad eyes.
T'del nodded and knelt down, her tricorder poised over the downed CMO. Krysa pulled out her phaser and pointed it at Dee. "Haven't you done enough? Why did you come back?" Dee looked at her, but Krysa was pretty sure she wasn't seeing her. Most likely anything she had to say now would go unheard. She sighed and tapped her commbadge. The Captain had to be told.
MD: 5.0315
As the Dee was led away Zane turned back to face Glin'kharr. He moved a few steps forward and then dropped to one knee beside him "Oh doctor....."
Krysa watched as they led the fake Ensign away, and then turned to see Zane drop to one knee. She felt his pain and walked over to him, crouching down next to him and putting a hand on his shoulder.
T'del looked up from her tricorder. Even with her non-emotional heritage, T'del's eyes were somber. "There is nothing we can do, sir."
Zane nodded silently, and Krysa could see his distress easily. She stood pulling on his arm, "Come on." He looked at her briefly, then stood, following her gentle lead.
She led him into Glin'kharr's office, where her hand fell away from his arm. The tall captain leaned back against the wall heavily. "This isn't supposed to happen," he said quietly.
"I know," she agreed, watching his dark eyes.
"Thanks for pulling me out of there before.." he began, but didn't seem able to finish.
She nodded, "I know how you need to be strong in front of the crew .. but to be honest .. I have an ulterior motive."
He looked up at her questioningly. She met his gaze and tears started to form in her eyes, "I needed a hug."
They looked at each other sadly for a moment, then Zane held out his arms and Krysa stepped into them and they grieved for their fallen crewmate. It was always sad to lose a fellow officer, even to happy events such as promotions .. but it was devastating to lose them forever in death. Not only was it the loss of friend and associate, but also it was a reminder of their own mortality. Something few liked to be reminded of.
For Krysa, Glin'kharr's death was only one more crime on Dee's head. And this time she would have to pay.
Regards,
Lt. Commander Krysa Jenn
Ops/2O, USS FEYNMAN
NRPG: Okay, I took a few liberties with Zane, hope you don't mind, Andy.
Kristen
--
Kristen & Scott Gant
http://homepage.interaccess.com/~sgant/gant.htm
USS FEYNMAN: Time To Go
by Kevin Thigpen 3-10-1997
Stardate: 90310.1832
Scene: Xanthandi Supply Station, docking bay 3
MD: 5.1340
The undercover Ensign Loren Landers made his way to his shuttle with the station's first officer Naril closely behind.
The station master, who insisted on being referred to as only 'The Master', was difficult to bargain with. Fortunately those late nights at the academy playing poker had been worth it.
Loren had managed to keep an absolutely straight face when the Master had threatened to seize his cargo and outright kill him. Threatening the Master and his station with a thermonuclear detonator keyed into his vital signs had been a long shot, but one worth trying.
Fortunately, he'd bought it. Now all he had to do was oversee the installation of a few of the packs into the station's systems and then the rest would be history. Of course, this was only true provided nothing went wrong and the rest of the team kept a low profile outside the station.
Plans never go as planned though. Loren was soon to prove this theory true.
The doors to the shuttlebay closed behind Loren and Naril.
"I will retrieve the packs and then you can be on your way Mr. Darrian," said Maril.
The bay itself was pretty cluttered. Loren's shuttle rested off in one corner. Standing next to it was another Xanthandi soldier carrying his payment, in pressed latinum bars.
"Trothel has your payment, now give us the packs," spat Naril as the two stepped up to the loading ramp of Loren's shuttle.
Keying in the appropriate sequence and then placing his hand on his neck (more to enhance the effect of the pre-supposed thermonuclear device) Loren opened his shuttle.
In a small case directly in front of the door sat the crate of bio-neural gel packs.
"Get them," growled Naril to his companion Trothel. "Now, I believe you and I have some unfinished business Mr. Darrian."
Loren could sense the hostility coming from Naril and anticipated his next move.
The Xanthandi's sidearm came up and a beam of high energy flashed out from its muzzle.
Throwing himself to the floor seconds before the flash of energy, Loren barely managed to avoid instantaneous death. The beam tore past him into his open shuttle hitting the control panel. Sparks flew, but that at the moment was the least of Loren's worries.
The Xanthandi had searched and removed Loren's weapons prior to coming on the station. *Damn efficiently too,* he reminiscenced. Now, he was facing two fully armed Xanthandi who were hell bent on making him as dead as possible. It really couldn't get much worse.
"I know you lied to the 'Master'. You see, I'm no fool. I've been looking forward to killing one of your kind. Do beings of your race scream when they die? I'll make sure yours is especially painful for I do so love hearing people scream."
All during his tirade, Naril silently moved among the crates in the room edging closer and closer to Loren's last position.
Laying on the hard plexifloor, Loren ripped a few strips of cloth from his trousers and placed them hard on his wounded arm. His instincts had been right but not fast enough to save him from getting scraped by Naril's shot. *At least I'm not dead* he thought.
Turning his attention back to his situation, Loren's survival instincts kicked in. *Two on one. No weapons, but do have the element of surprise. They don't expect a fully trained Starfleet officer.*
Breathing deeply but silently, Loren gathered his thoughts and made his move.
Darting across some open space, Loren drew the fire of Trothel who also had taken up a position behind some crates. Loren expected this and took the last few centimeters to the cargo bay's control panel by diving headfirst.
Energy blasts stitched lines in the floor behind him, but that didn't matter. His hand slapped the control panel, finding just what he needed...the emergency decompression sequence.
Quickly he keyed in what he thought was the appropriate code, bracing himself expectantly. With the last keypunch he took a deep breath...
Nothing happened.
"Did you really think it'd be that easy?" came a voice behind him.
Naril stepped into view as Loren turned to face him.
"Now, it's time to see how you scream."
Naril threw his weapon to the floor as he charged Loren.
Loren sidestepped the man's rush and placed his hands on the man's collar. Using his forward momentum, Loren threw the man for all he was worth directly into the cargo bay's control panel.
The force of the Xanthandi's charge was so great that the stem connecting the panel to the bay's floor gave way as the entire control panel tipped over with Naril's head embedded in it.
Without missing a step, Loren grabbed Naril's weapon and trained it on the stunned Xanthandi named Trothel who had stepped out from behind hiding to see his commander die. He simply stared open mouthed at the scene.
Naril's limp form sticking head first into an up ended control panel and Loren with a weapon trained directly on him.
"Get out of here now!" yelled Loren, "or you die."
The man hesitated for a moment. Loren felt the same sensations he had felt moments ago, before Naril had tried to shoot him in the back.
Loren didn't hesitate. He shot and vaporized the Xanthandi where he stood.
What had to be done next, Loren wasn't looking forward to, but he knew it had to be done.
Retrieving the special interface Glin'kharr had made for use with the nanites, Loren made his way to one of the wall circuit panels in the bay.
Opening it and also cutting open one of the bio-neural gel packs, Loren spoke to the nanites and Dr. Pasteur one last time.
"Good luck, my friends. Do as much damage as you can."
["IT'S ABOUT TIME YOU GOT US OUT OF THOSE DAMN BAGS. STICK US IN A TUBE, STICK US IN A BAG. DON'T YOU EVER BOTHER TO CONSIDER WHAT WE THINK."]
"Of course I do Dr. Pasteur but I really don't have time now. My cover's been blown and if I don't get out soon..."
["OF COURSE HUMANOID LANDERS. GO. WE WILL TAKE CARE OF THE SITUATION FROM HERE."]
"Dr. Pasteur, thanks again. Your sacrifice.."
["YEA, YEA, YEA, THEY'LL BUILD A STATUE OR SOME OTHER USELESS COMMEMORATION FOR US. JUST GO...ALSO TELL GLIN'KHARR, I'LL SEE HIM WHEN WE GET BACK."]
"Understood."
Loren tipped the contents of the pack into the open wall panel and ran for his shuttle.
After repeating the same procedure with the other gel packs, Loren preped his shuttle for take off. Naril's shot had destroyed the weapon controls system, but the shuttle still could fly.
Hoping Naril's shot didn't do any other damage, Loren powered up his shuttle's systems and guided it through the blue glow of the bay's force field and into open space.
Respectfully submitted, Kevin Thigpen
[NRPG: Okay, the nanites are in place on the station and Loren is running for his life. Hope you guys aren't too busy to pick up a counselor turned trader. Also, I hope the time is alright. I guess Jerran looked at the chrono timer lots of times during the HARBINGER's evasion of the REVENGE.]
- * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Ens. Loren Landers *
USS FEYNMAN CNS *
- *
Commander Kweee Hwichk *
SFDIPTF XO *
- *
Lt. Conrad Robicheaux (Ro'bo'sho) *
SFDIPTF Cultural Attache *
- * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
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 *
- * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
