Star Trek: New Order

[Ghostrider114]

I was just wondering what some of you people might think about a little series I am working on, this is my latest:
Star Trek New Order

Episode 009

“Fire and Ice”

Captain’s Log; Star Date 57049.5; we left space dock several hours ago and before rejoining the fleet, I have decided to put the ship through a quick shake down. Our CAG has asked me to come down to the main shuttlebay to see something she picked up at Star Base 11.

Captain Hunt walked into the hanger deck and saw a short blond woman in a green jumpsuit briskly polishing the wing root of a large gray fighter. Hunt snuck up behind her. “I thought we left the Idiot at the Star Base for one of Brin’s goons to pick up?”

She turned around, startled, “I did; impound bay, as you instructed,” Chavin answered, “This is what I wanted to show you.”

“It looks like a Peregrine Fighter,” Hunt answered, “just like the dozen others onboard.”

“Wrong,” Chavin replied, “this is a Peregrine III.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Peregrine Is, like T’kir’s boat, were originally built as Couriers and EW craft, meant to be escorted by the armed Sparrow IIs.” Chavin explained, “a few were bought by the Maquis and modified with phasers; that became the basis for the Mark II, which Starfleet also gave a smaller, one man, cockpit and larger magazine. Now this baby is a Mark III, brand new and designed as a fighter bomber from the start. I volunteered to test her out for a friend in Fighter Command.”

“Ok,” Hunt nodded, “Why didn’t you talk to me about it?”

“I wanted to surprise you,” she answered as she produced a pair of pressure suits from the open cockpit.”

“Well,” Hunt responded, “I am thoroughly surprised.”

“I wanted to take you out for the first test flight.”

* * *

Within minutes, Hunt was seated in the back seat of the tandem cockpit putting his helmet on. Chavin keyed her helmet’s communicator, “The air boss has cleared us for taxi,” she said to Hunt as the GravLifts kicked in and lifted the fighter’s landing struts a nanometer off the deck so that Chavin could taxi the wheel-less fighter to the shuttlecraft elevator. Then they rode the elevator to the main shuttlebay, two decks above. Once they entered the main shuttlebay, Chavin deftly brought the craft to one of the four massive gravity catapults built into the deck plating, and disengaged the GravLifts. A yellow shirted Deck Hand exchanged hand signals with Chavin through the canopy as Hunt felt the gravity catapult lift the fighter back up several centimeters as Chavin raised the landing struts into their flight positions.

“Asgard, this is Thor One-Zero-Zero,” Chavin addressed the Traffic Controller, “requesting takeoff clearance shuttle bay one, cat two.”

“You came up with those call signs, didn’t you?” Hunt asked, knowing her affinity for a certain Science Fiction program.

“No,” She answered, “Hello: Beliskner, ‘Thor’s Chariot,’ from ‘Asgard,’ the home of the Norse gods, they kind of came with it.” Hunt nodded.

Then the Controller returned, “Asgard to Thor One-Zero-Zero, you are cleared to launch on cat two, Supreme Commander.” Hunt chuckled.

“Ok that one I did come up with,” Chavin relented, after an awkward silence, “Come on, Supreme Commander Thor.” As the gravity catapult powered up, the two of them ran through a last minute checklist.

Hunt looked down at his stick and throttle assembly and asked. “Why does this thing have a stick?”

“Have you ever tried to do combat maneuvers in one of these things from the LCARS terminal?” She shot back, “I made sure that they put that in so it is easier to control.” Then they began to feel weightless as the gravity catapult came to full power. The catapult was designed to assist the heavy fighter in safely launching from the relatively short shuttle bay. Chavin then gave the yellow shirted crewman a thumb up gesture with her hand, and he retreated to the catapult control panel. She then saluted him and he activated the Catapult.

Hunt abruptly felt eight Gs of force pressing him into his seat as the fighter accelerated forwards. Then all of a sudden, the gravity tractor reversed polarity and the fighter slammed into the deck; then the craft shot backwards with eight times the force of normal earth gravity. As it slammed into the back wall of the shuttlebay, the main deuterium tank ruptured and began spilling the heavy hydrogen slush onto the deck. Then the still running Impulse engines’ hot exhaust ignited the volatile fuel and started a massive conflagration around the stricken craft.

Fire Crews were already responding when Hunt came out of his G induced black out. He reached forward and shook Chavin awake. Around them, Hunt could only see a wall of bright blue fire. Acknowledging that the two of them were in a vessel potentially filled with explosives and other highly unstable items, Hunt and Chavin began to safe everything.

“I’m scramming the Warp Core,” Chavin announced, pressing a control on her panel, “We had better do something about the ordinance.” Praying that the nose was still pointed towards the open shuttle bay doors, and that no one was in the way, Hunt rapid fired all four of the loaded micro torpedoes out of the forward torpedo banks, and into space behind the ship.

“What should I do about the antimatter,” Hunt asked.

“Hope that the magnetic containment holds,” Chavin shrugged, “the hatch is on the belly.”

“Let’s get the hell out of here!” Chavin said as she pressed the canopy release; nothing happened. She tried again, but still nothing.

“I wouldn’t want to step out into that anyway,” Hunt deadpanned, pointing outside at the still growing inferno.

“Frak!” Chavin exclaimed, pounding her fist on the canopy, “the emergency transporters won’t work either.”

“Come to think of it,” Hunt thought aloud, “why hasn’t Beliskner beamed us out yet?”

“Frak this,” Chavin shouted again, as she reached for the Ejection handle on her seat.

“Wait,” Hunt yelled, “if you try that in here, we will go splat against the roof!” Then Hunt had an idea, he quickly scanned the ceiling, looking for the explosive bolts that held the emergency hatches onto the ship. He explained his plan to Chavin.

“What about the crew in here?” Chavin asked, Hunt scanned the room and sure enough, there were several dozen crewmen fighting the blaze around them, he tapped his comm. panel, but soon discovered that is was not functioning. In vain he looked around the cockpit for anything he could use to warn them, his eyes set back on the phaser control panel, which indicated that one beam emitter was still barely operational. He aimed it out the shuttle bay doors and then reached down to his control stick and began to squeeze the trigger in intermittent bursts.

Lieutenant Commander Taurik and Major Dergos had just stepped in with fire extinguishers to assist the deck crew; Taurik began spraying foam at the fire toward the bow, with the aim of reaching the cockpit. Dergos was at his side doing the same thing. When suddenly, a red orange beam shot past them and struck the force field over the still open space doors. Taurik stood, puzzled for a moment then another beam flew by, followed by a slightly shorter one, more beams of varying lengths followed, than in typical Vulcan manner, Taurik realized that the beams formed the pattern. He relayed this information to Dergos.

“I remember,” Dergos said, “Hunt once telling me about an old Earth code that made patterns like this,” during a pause, he began translating, “Golf-Echo-Tango, Get…” he paused as another set of beams began to fire, “Oscar-Uniform-Tango?”

“Out,” Taurik suggested.

“I know how to spell ‘Out,’ you God damn Vulcan,” Dergos spat, “What do they mean, ‘get out’?” Then it hit him, “Everybody clear the room!” he shouted. Most of the deck hands didn’t notice, he whipped out a hand phaser and fired it at the ceiling to get their attention, “Everybody, Listen,” He bellowed, “get the furk out of here now!” Everyone ran for the nearest exit.

“Come on guys,” Hunt said, waiting for his sensors to show the room clear, then the sensors showed an energy discharge, and a moment later, the life signs began to leave, “That’s Renbe alright!”

“Let’s get ready to blow this thing.”


continued in next post

[Ghostrider114]

“With all the Hydrogen slush around the fire might not go out right away in the vacuum, it might feed off the slush for an oxidizer, so we will have to actually eject, just blowing the hatch won’t be enough.” Then Hunt aimed his Phaser bank at the Explosive charge and fired. Suddenly a relay blew out on Hunt’s weapon panel. “Damn, no phasers,” he cursed, “now what?”

Chavin thought for a moment, then had an idea, “if your torpedoes are still out there, we might be able to guide one back towards the hatch.”

“One of those warheads could vaporize the entire bay,” Hunt pointed out.

“Not if I disable it,” Chavin suggested, “The impact alone might be enough to set off the charge.”

“Do it.” Chavin immediately went to work, interfacing with the computer on the torpedo. Within a few minutes she had disengaged the warhead, and sent it on a collision course with the hatch. The weapon hit the target with a clang, but failed to set off the charge.

“Damn, it didn’t work,” Chavin cursed, “I’ll try a minimum charge on the second one.”

* * *

“What in the Fire Caves was that?” Commander Tertian exclaimed as the weapon hit.

“It looks like another one is powering up,” Announced the Helmsman.

“Why would they be doing this?” Tertian thought aloud, and then it hit him like a ton of bricks, “Blow the emergency hatch on the shuttle bay, they must be trying to get out!”

“Aye, Commander,” the Helmsman replied as he disengaged the safety and detonated the explosive bolts.

* * *

“It worked!” exclaimed Hunt as the air began to rush out of the room through the roof.

“I haven’t finished prepping the weapon, sir” Chavin replied.

“They must have gotten the message,” Hunt said, “What do you say we blow this thing commander.”

“Yes, Sir,” Chavin said as she reached down to the large yellow lever between her legs and gave it a pull. A second later, the canopy vaporized and rockets beneath their seats shot them clear of the stricken fighter.

* * *

Hunt awoke on a Biobed in sickbay, with the ships blue faced, Andorian, doctor staring down at him. “You are going to be fine,” He announced, “A few bruises and broken bones from the ejection, but nothing serious.”

“Thanks,” Hunt said, he looked around and saw Chavin lying asleep on the Biobed next to his, “how is the commander?”

“She’ll be fine,” Sorel replied. The door came open with a hiss as Dergos stomped in, steaming.

“Major,” Hunt asked, “Did you figure out what happened?”

“The catapult operator for this shift,” Dergos Announced, “was just found dead in his quarters.”

“Are you sure?” Hunt asked, “That could be a coincidence.” Dergos then held up a piece of scorched deck plating and shoved it towards the doctor, who placed it in a medical scanner.

“This is it?” Sorel asked

“Vaporized,” Dergos replied.

The scanner beeped, “Yes,” Sorel read, “the molecular decay indicates that he has been dead for about eight hours.”

“Then we have a saboteur onboard,” Hunt realized, “Dergos, find him, and search the entire ship if you have to.” Dergos nodded and Sorel ushered him out, then he lead Hunt into his office.

“Sir, there is something you need to know,” Sorel confessed, bringing up Hunt’s medical scan on his monitor. “While I was treating you, I found and destroyed a cancerous brain tumor.”

“So,” Hunt asked, “Cancer has been curable since the 21st century.”

“As you know, your El Aurian physiology makes it difficult to scan you,” He said as he brought up a brain scan, “I was forced to run a high level scan of your brain.” Sorel zoomed in on a section of the brain, “You have a neurological deformity, and it’s a congenital birth defect.”

“I know,” Hunt said, “I have had Asperger’s Syndrome since I was a child.”

“I have read about this,” Sorel said, “it is similar to Autism or Rigellian Sorban Disorder.”

“And while it can be treated with medication, the only cure is gene therapy, and thus illegal,” Hunt said finishing Sorel’s sentence, “I have been taking medication for it since I was a child; a close friend of my family, got me a prescription.”

“What you left out,” Sorel corrected, “is that this condition can preclude you from command.”

“You know me doc,” Hunt pleaded, “you have seen me lead this ship in battle.”

“Very well,” Sorel agreed, “This will remain between us.”

“I had better get some rest,” Hunt said as he got up to walk out, “call me when Dranzian comes around.”

* * *

Rear Admiral Edward Jellico was pissed. He was just leaving Starfleet Intelligence after a meeting with Admiral Nechayev.

“I know Alynna assigned him as a compromise over her SID shenanigans,” He grumbled to nobody in particular, “But this idiot, Hunt, is almost as reckless as Macen,” He ignored the stares from passer-bys as he walked to his office. “He keeps getting in one scrape after another, five stopovers in drydock and two goddamn starships in two years.” When he finally arrived in his office, he sat down at his desk. He picked up one of his sons latest paintings, noticing that his son’s skill had improved since his mother started sending Edward his art onboard the Cairo, almost ten years ago. Since his wife died, his son began sending the drawings and paintings himself. Jellico set the painting down and noticed an isolinear chip on his desk. Knowing that, as a Starfleet admiral, he was expected to not keep sensitive materials on his desk, he picked it up and moved to place it in a drawer, but before he got there, curiosity got the better of him, he paused, and then slid the chip into a slot on his terminal. The screen came to life, displaying an Andorian medical officer and a Human in a hospital gown, whom he recognized as the cause of all his anger of late, talking in an office. He pressed the play button. After watching the surveillance footage, he pressed a button that slid his door open and yelled, “Yeoman!” his secretary stuck her head in the door, knowing not to remind him about the comm. panel on his desk, “Get the Judge Advocate General on the horn, now! And then I want a channel to the USS Beliskner.

continued in next post, sorry about the length

[Ghostrider114]

* * *

Captain Hunt was just about to walk into sickbay to check on Chavin when Tertian and Dergos walked up to him to report on the investigation. Dergos explained to him that the assassin was still at large, and he was interviewing the other deckhands, to see if they got a good glimpse of him; the deck hands were not too helpful as they all said that their crew mate was unusually introverted today and reported to duty wearing his helmet and visor, covering his face. Hunt invited them in with him. They found Chavin already sitting up on her biobed, being scanned by Dr. Sorel. Sorel was about to pronounce her fit for duty when the intercom beeped.

“Captain,” the voice reported, “we are being hailed by Starfleet Command, Admiral Jellico wants to talk to you.”

“Ah the legendary Jellico temper,” remarked Tertian, “He taught one of my classes during command training.”

“Patch him through to the sickbay monitor,” Hunt ordered silently asking Sorel for permission. Then Jellico’s face appeared on the monitor.

“Captain Hunt,” Jellico began, “I was reviewing your medical record,” he lied, concealing his true source, “and I found that you have a condition that makes you unfit for command.”

“Yes sir,” Hunt croaked.

“I hereby relieve you of duty, pending a court marshal on charges of fraud,” Jellico announced, “Commander Versos,” he continued, mistakenly referring to the Bajoran by his given name, “you are to take command, suspend all current operations and return to Star Base 11,” he cut the channel.

“Well,” Tertian said, “I guess I will have to relieve you of duty, I trust that I won’t have to confine you to quarters?” Hunt nodded and Dergos escorted him out.

Personal Log; Supplemental; I have been relieved of duty because of one little piece of defective grey matter, umm, make that two. I am trying to pass my time in my quarters while we return to Star Base; as a bit of a concession, Commander Tertian has set course at low warp, claiming engine trouble.

Hunt put down the model he was working on at his desk and stood up to stretch his legs. Putting on a pair of sweat pants he walked out into the corridor and began to jog. After a few minutes he found himself in front of Chavin’s cabin and stopped. He turned and tapped the door chime.

“Come in,” came the answer from inside. Hunt stood back for a second, reconsidering, and then he stepped in. He found Chavin sitting on her couch, reading a PADD.

“What are you reading?” Hunt asked.

“Oh this,” Chavin answered, “Nothing,” she shoved the PADD between the cushions of the couch.

Hunt squeezed past her and grabbed the PADD. He read a few lines, what is this crap?”

“A fanfic,” Chavin said, yanking the device back and turning it off.

“You know, I don’t think I have ever been in your room,” Hunt confessed, he looked around and noticed that the shelves on one wall were covered in action figures. He walked over and picked one up, “Daniel Jackson?”

“Yes, what’s wrong with having action figures,” she said as she took it back and set it on her desk.

“These are four hundred years old and you took them out of the packaging,” He said, chuckling.

“Of course,” she answered, “you can’t play with them in the boxes,” then she turned serious, “you know, this isn’t that bad, we can fix this.”

“I know,” he said, “listen I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You know,” Chavin said, “Technically, you aren’t my superior any more,” She leaned forward and kissed him as she unfastened her blouse.

“I love you Dranzian,” their bodies entwined as they settled onto Chavin’s bed.

* * *

Hunt sat at his desk, the idea of talking to someone about it rolling over in his mind. He didn’t want to talk to the ship’s counselor or for that matter anyone else on board about it, so instead, he activated his terminal and dialed one of his old academy professors.

“Admiral Cage speaking,” answered the gruff old voice of the 103 year old admiral on the screen.

“Ben,” Hunt said, “I would have thought you would have retired by now.”

“So would I,” Cage replied, “I hear you’ve gotten yourself into a bit of trouble.”

“Yeah,” Hunt nodded.

“It’s not that bad, Jellico is just trying to do what ever he can to get his way, I know the type.”

“He’s right though.”

“Jon, I know you,” Cage reprimanded, “disabled or not, you are one of the best captains in the fleet.”

“He’s right,” Hunt protested, “I am reckless, and dangerous.”

“That’s right, you are reckless, Mister Hunt,” Cage scolded, “You risked the lives of your entire crew on countless occasions, saving many more lives in the process.” Hunt began to protest but Cage interrupted him and began ticking off on his fingers, “The DMZ incursion of 2369, The Battle of Betazed, The Battle of Chin’toka, The Battle of Cardassia, that deal with the Gorn last year, the bomb on the Lapon, The Tkon, need I say more.”

“If I hadn’t fixed the timeline,” Hunt said, “the whole galaxy would have been destroyed.”

“But you did,” Cage reminded him; “I’ll get you reinstated, and try to do something about this trial, let me deal with Eddie Jellico.” Hunt nodded, then after bidding Cage goodnight, closed the channel. Hunt stood up and walked over to the replicator; he then replicated a glass and returned to his desk. He set the glass on the table, and then bent down to retrieve a bottle of whiskey, which Cage had given him at graduation, out of a hidden compartment. When he stood up, the hairs on the back of his neck came erect, he spun around to see a women in a black cat suit, holding a phaser.

“Well,” she said, “Mister Hunt, you just don’t quit do you.”

“No,” he replied, “and apparently; neither do you, Miss?” she didn’t answer, “Whiskey?” She ignored the offer. “Ok, fine.” Hunt then let loose an inside swing kick, knocking the phaser out of her hand, and then he followed it up with a turn back heel kick to her side. Unfortunately she dodged the second kick and moved forward in order to attempt a Vulcan nerve pinch. Realizing he was still clutching the whiskey, he let it swing and caught her in the temple. She fell down in a heap, “Wrong move lady,” hunt said, and then he bent down and picked up one of the shards from the broken bottle, “Damn, 2285, that was a good year.”

[Ghostrider114]

* * *

Hunt walked out onto the bridge, and immediately noticed Tertian sitting in his chair. He moved in and sat down in the now vacant First Officer’s seat.

“Captain,” Tertian said, “you aren’t supposed to be here, you’ve been relieved of duty.”

Before Hunt could answer, Dergos piped in, “Sirs, we are being hailed by Starfleet command.” Tertian nodded and three Starfleet admirals: Nechayev, Cage and a JAG officer, appeared on the viewer.

“Captain,” the JAG began, “Since this whole incident was brought to light, I have been visited by both Admirals Nechayev and Cage, both of them have presented your service record as evidence for your ability to command a starship, so that is not in issue here,” Hunt let out a sigh of relief, “However, fraud, is a very serious charge_”

“Admiral,” Dergos interrupted, “if I may,” the JAG nodded, “I found this small monitoring device in sickbay,” he produced a small visual sensor, “It has DNA evidence that links it to an assassin who was recently captured while trying to murder the captain.”

“Very well then,” The JAG nodded, “I think we should declare this a miss trial, Admiral Jellico will face a Flag Mast for his role in this conspiracy,” Cage and Nechayev both nodded, “Good Day,” she closed the channel.

“Thank you, Renbe.” Captain Hunt looked around the bridge as most of his crew was celebrating, except for Chavin. Hunt stepped forward to her station, and placed a hand on her shoulder, as if to say, I’ll still love you, even if I’m a captain again.

* * *

Chavin walked briskly towards the hanger deck as she did every morning before her duty shift, in order to inspect the spacecraft under her command as CAG. When she arrived at the large pentagonal pressure hatch, she saw a large group of maintenance personnel standing outside. “What are you guys doing out here,” she demanded, “get back to work.” The group spread to reveal Captain Hunt standing at the center.

“Commander,” Hunt said, “we have a surprise for you.” He stepped aside and pressed the Door open button on the nearby wall panel. Chavin walked in and the first thing she saw was a newly repaired two seat Peregrine III fighter. “We spent all night putting her back together,” Hunt admitted, “We had to patch some of it with parts from our other birds, but it should fly.” Hunt removed two pressure suits from a nearby supply locker and handed one to Chavin. Thanking him, she reached up, pulled him down to her height and planted a big kiss on his lips. “Should we do this in front of all these people, commander?”

“Frak those Knuckle Draggers,” she said, kissing him again.

Within a few minutes, they put on the pressure suits and climbed up into the cockpit of the Peregrine. Hunt received clearance to launch and they shot off the Gravity Catapult into space.

Once clear of the Beliskner’s massive warp nacelles, Chavin threw the fighter into a series of victory rolls. “Thank you, Jon,” Chavin said, “this is even better than before,” Chavin then began a series of erratic jinks and jives, “Hey watch this,” before Hunt could protest, Chavin put the fighter through a twenty G J-turn and shot through the gap between the Beliskner’s warp nacelles and engineering hull, before throwing the ship into an end over end tumble and a triple Cuban Eight while backwards. Then she settled into a left hand pattern and requested landing clearance from the Traffic Control. “Asgard this is Thor Zero-Zero, two clicks out, I have the ball,” She reported, indicating that she could see the landing guidance lights below the shuttlebay, “Asgard, Thor Zero-Zero, requesting wire trap,” Control acknowledged and four Tritanium cables rose out of the deck plating at regular intervals, while the Peregrine was capable of making a landing with tractor assistance, Chavin liked to stay proficient at combat traps. At 500 meters Chavin lowered the landing struts and extended the arresting hook. The atmospheric force field surrounding the open bay doors shimmered as the fighter passed through it. Chavin cut the throttles just before the hook caught the number three wire. The momentum of the fighter tugged on the wire but its tritanium threads did not break. Chavin’s Peregrine came to the deck with a hard thump, and she engaged the GravLifts and taxied over to a parking spot, where they could disembark. Hunt removed his helmet then stood up and climbed out of the now open cockpit. Leaping down to the deck, he helped Chavin down, and then kissed her again. Around them, the deck crew let out a round of applause, led by the deck chief.



©2007

the rest can be found here

[Ghostrider114]

I apologize if this qualifys as spam or post inflating, I didn't think it was that long

[evil_genius_180]

I think posts in this section are expected to be longer, since people are posting stories. And it would've been one damn long post to do it all in one.