S02Ep01 Prophet

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S02Ep01 Prophet

Postby The Writer » Tue Jun 07, 2011 11:06 am

Season 2
The Legacy, a computer program that caters the ability to predict the future has prophesied the end for humanity. The Council, an unseen unheard backbone of the Federation, who has used the Legacy to stay two steps ahead of the prophecy, turn from preparing the Federation for the end, to combating it as new variable is introduced into the Legacy's quantum equation, "The Prophet." With this, the Council moves to building a new ship, the most technological advanced starship ever created, and with that forging a new crew, the best and brightest that the Federation has. The ship will be known as the Eternity, and her crew will be the last best hope for saving humanity.

But are The Council's acts going against the Legacy, circumventing its dire prophecy, or, are they just another stepping stone to mankind's unescapable fate?

Episode 01 "Prophet"
Two years have passed since the conclusion of Starfleet operations to police the area known as, "The Fringe," and operative area of space left in the wake of the Hobius Star Nova. With the Followers of Nero destroyed, and Task Force 83 disbanded, growth and colonization of the Ildius System goes unabated as Klingon and Starfleet lay their mark. Resource rich, the system becomes an important part of Federation livelihood, helping in doubling their number of active ships as well as furthering their prosperity. The Romulan remnants of the Empire scatter in Starfleet, finding place among the officers and ship faring, all be it at the cost of bigotry and social awkwardness. Metar Colony becomes and active player in the expansion of the Fringe, the first colony established, it has grown massively in the two years time since the assault. Ildius 3 now supports a starbase, 354, and has become the Fringe's colonial hub of both mercantile businesses and operations on both Starfleet and Klingon fronts.

The area of Romulus and Remus has been quarantined, a no fly zone, as investigation still mounts on the actual events that had transpired in the final closing conflict between the Followers of Nero and the starship Eternity of which was lost in the conflict. The crew of this fabled ship have also scattered in the two years, ether staying within the Federation's eye, or, finding solidus off the grid/radar. But soon they and a new batch of Starfleet's brightest will find their fate guiding them back to the Fringe, back on Ildius 3, and back within the corridors of the new Cerberus Class starship, Eternity.
~Gabriel "The Writer" Logan
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Re: S02Ep01 Prophet

Postby The Writer » Mon Jun 13, 2011 11:48 am

Prologue
"Birth of Evil"
By Gabriel "The Writer" Logan

OFF:
Another Season opens for Star Trek Eternity with new and old faces returning to the ship and it's continued story. I try to carry out a theme with each Season, try to come up with a generalized feeling towards planning out a plot. Last Season it was a character's resolve when faced with right and wrong, and the blurring of that line between those two. Season 2's theme is fate. Can your character change fate, does he or she have the capacity to circumvent an inevitable possibility, or, is your character just another step to an inescapable end? Those questions and more will spurn a catalyst that I hope burns your creativity to record degrees. This season, the Eternity and her crew span out from the traditional Star Trek Genre to spawn a new vision. I look forward to seeing what these 12 episodes produce.

~Gabriel "The Writer" Logan
June 20, 2011

ON:
The Writer's hands played on the dark keys of his laptop computer, his fingers pounding away sending a cascading tapping sound that echoed throughout the well lit office. He knew even before he sensed the man that came through the door, finding that the intruder was exactly as he had written.

The man stood tall, his dark form like a waterfall. Dark armor hidden underneath a long black trench coat. Hair of black, tangled in waves of feathered shied away from his face that of malice intent, eyes fixating through slits of his oriental origins, the double optical devices glowing a fierce red. Yet, the red eyed demon was startled, obviously expecting more beyond the Portal of Eternity.

"Where am I," he asked the Writer to which didn't state anything to answer, his fingers merely drumming with an unwavering beat, as if his hands were composing madness itself?

"The correct question is when are you," the Writer finally stated, "time is relative, almost yielding is it not. Thats a rhetorical question Sion, I don't expect you to know the answer."

It was obvious between the lapses in thought and rationality that Sion "Xatrix" Logan, clone of Gabriel "Matrix" Logan was perplexed by all this. He tired to gather himself, his thoughts dwelling on events that had led him to this point. The battle, the Ovons, the sword fight, and the Portal of Eternity he had entered. All of it was a mixed wash of blurring realities that he was having a hard time focusing on. "How does this work," he finally gathered, trying to question the Writer on what he must do to harness the power of life, death, and time itself.

"It doesn't" the Writer stated, his attention still drawn to the screen of words that he had wrote, a depiction of a world rout by its own ideals that brought forth its end, a prophecy if you will, a dedication to the end of his story. "At least not yet," he added after some silence. "This isn't the end I wrote for you, its a beginning."

"A beginning?"

"You'll get it eventually, the challenge of fate and destiny," the Writer coached as finally, he turned towards the man with the red demon eyes. He was young, probably in his late twenties, eyes of green, hair curly brown and blonde cut tight to his head. "However now is not the time for questions. You need to go back out there and finish what I've wrote. Your time will come when it comes." He looked back at the screen, then, looked back at Sion. "The ending is not written, I argue that it can't be written."

"I don't understand," Sion stated, his sword hovering to rise. More than anything, the man wanted to kill the Writer, end his life and bring forth the power to write his own fate, his own future. Yet, he could not strike the Writer, compelled to listen, compelled to assault only in question. "Who are you…,"

"No one and everyone Sion," the Writer smiled, "I know more of you than you do yourself and I've seen your end and your beginning. This isn't it, not yet. To you, you just entered the Portal, seen my face and when you head back there, your beginning will begin. To me, your story's beginning has already begun, I write it now even as I talk to you."

"I don't understand."

"You will in time Sion. Now go."
Last edited by The Writer on Mon Jan 09, 2012 4:55 pm, edited 3 times in total.
Reason: Forewords from Gabriel "The Writer" Logan
~Gabriel "The Writer" Logan
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Re: S02Ep01 Prophet

Postby The Writer » Mon Jun 20, 2011 9:57 am

Story Note
It has been 2 years since the fall of the Followers of Nero and the destruction of the Eternity. The question burns as to telling the story of where the former crew and the new crew of the Eternity are. Did some stay in Starfleet, did some resign, have others been swallowed by the Intelligence machine? What fate has befell them?

Whether it is by the hand of fate or by the arm of duty, the crew is soon to return ether by guise of orders from Starfleet or, by a seemingly unnatural series of events, everyone eventually is drawn back to the Ildius 3 where their lives are changed.
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Re: S02Ep01 Prophet

Postby sail3695 » Mon Jun 20, 2011 7:17 pm

Starfleet Target Range D-12
Sol System

"....and that's the story." Banks' voice came through as a crackle over the Dauntless' cockpit com channel. The pilot's sandy blond hair could not be seen, masked beneath his helmet which bore the crest of Starfleet on the left side. When he turned his head, the occupant in the second seat could make out the insignia of the 11th Torpedo Squadron, a simple torpedo, clutched in the fists of a cartoonishly angry pelican, diving at a sharp angle, it's bill full of gritted teeth from which projected the stub of a cigar. Across the back of the helmet was Banks' callsign, the nickname awarded him by his fellow pilots. It was obvious they'd chosen to have some fun with his last name, hence the word "Piggy" emblazoned just above his neck.

"So, just as you go hot and hit pre-release, targeting gets "hinky." Was that how you described it, LtCdr?"

"Affirm. Not just that," LtCdr Andrew "Piggy" Banks replied over his shoulder. "She gets a wicked shimmy. My people have missed the target ship altogether, it's so bad at times."

"Okay, I think I got it," the passenger replied. "Get set up for your run. I'll handle weps. Call the launch."

"Roger that," the pilot replied. The old Dauntless QTB wheeled about, her heavy construction oscillating slightly as she made a hard starboard bank. "This is Indigo Tango four-niner-seven," Banks chatted into his comm, "on practice run for target ship J, dummy torp. I repeat, dummy torp."

"Range control copies," came a young woman's voice in reply. "Think you'll hit it this time, Piggy?"

"I got Mar-Mar in the back seat to figure out my problem," Banks replied.

"Hope she packed a lunch. Happy hunting."

"Smartasses, all of 'em," Banks chuckled over the comm system. "Here we go. Range to target 2700 km. Commencing attack run." With a jerk of the stick, the torpedo bomber broke left, leveled out, and then dipped it's nose. Banks throttled his engines upward, bringing her to attack speed. Ahead of them, the derelict starship hulk, a former Raan class, sat lifeless in space. Her hull had been battered and misshapen in places from years of strikes by "dummy" unarmed torpedoes. With luck, she'd be receiving a new blemish in just a few seconds.

"We have target lock," Lt. Marisol Marquez reported from the back seat. "Torp is hot.......we have tone.....EMP boring engaged." A gentle press of the trigger launched the targeted EMP, in tandem with the low powered boring laser. Though the laser served little more purpose than to provide an optical target reference, the directed EMP had been seen to produce staggering effects upon an enemy's shields. The weapon had breathed life anew into the tactics of the aging PTB and QTB squadrons. Now, these pilots not only launched torpedoes from uncomfortably close range, they also had the means to open holes in shields, allowing those torpedoes to pass directly into an unprotected hull. Marquez and Banks could both note the thin shaft of laser light as it played upon the hull of their target. "Torp to pre-release," she reported. Her right hand squeezed the torpedo clutch. With a slight counterclockwise turn, she disengaged the flight clamps. The weapon was officially ready for it's release upon the target. "Ready for launch......hey...."

"That's what I'm talkin' about," Banks said. A vibration seemed to rise through the frame of the spacecraft, increasing in violence as they continued on their course. In a moment, both the torpedo's tracking and the ship's own targeting seemed to skew and dance upon Marisol's screen.

"Yeah," she said, jotting notes onto her PADD. "Kinda turns the "suck" knob up to 10, doesn't it? Let's play with this. Try increasing your speed."

"As long as you promise me she won't shake apart," Banks responded, before nosing the throttles up slowly. As the QTB's speed increased, the shuddering grew more violent, and then, with speed approaching maximum, tapered off. "Smooth as silk at full throttle," the pilot called back.

"Now, let's reduce speed." Following Marquez's instructions, Banks eased the throttles back slowly. In the back seat, Marisol recorded the vibrations as they mounted, peaked, and faded. "Okay," she said. "I think I know what's going on." She removed her left glove, before placing a slender hand upon the cockpit bulkhead. The cold metal soon seemed to warm, with a slight tingle of motion beneath her splayed fingers. "Hola, mis hijos," she thought, her eyes cast down in thought.

"Aw, Mar-Mar, you're not doin' that "thing" back there, are you?" Banks' voice was nearly a whine.

She glanced up, a mischievous grin blossoming inside her helmet. "What thing are you talking about, Piggy?"

"You know," he groaned. "When you touch something, and it just starts workin'. It creeps people out, Mar-Mar. We're gonna change your callsign to "Faith Healer."

"Well, this is pretty simple stuff," Marisol chuckled. "We're getting a harmonic. Probably the extra weight of the EMP borer, throwing the ship off balance. A little tweak to the autogyros, and a small bump on the inertial dampeners......" She sat for a moment, her mind attuned to the numbers of her children as they moved about the QTB, a team of tiny engineers producing optimal results from their ship. The nanites had been introduced to each QTB when the EMP weapons were installed. The retrofit had brought unseen advantages, as the tiny allies had also moved to repair stress cracks in the aging frames, as well as pointing out and sometimes repairing other worn components. For a time, she thought her position to be one of obsolescence. The trillions of microscopic devices which now referred to her as "Madre" had made it clear that they viewed the relationship as a symbiosis. "Okay," Marisol announced. "Give it a shot. Let's rerun the attack."

"You sure are scary for such a little woman," Banks' voice rumbled over the comm.

"Break my ship," Marisol purred, "and you'll find out just how.."

______________________________________________________________________________________________


"NAS Tranquility, this is Indigo Tango four-niner-seven, requesting final approach clearance."

"Tranquility copies Indigo Tango four-niner-seven, cleared for final approach heading two-three-eight, docking bay number four."

Having picked her way through the tapestry of traffic patterns around a very busy Earth, the Dauntless was soon in near free fall above the lunar surface. Marisol watched as the cratered familiarity of NAS Tranquility rose to meet them. In a moment, Banks eased back on the stick, translating the dive into a smooth hover, leading them through the sizeable opening of Docking Bay 4. The atmospheric shielding played bluish flashes upon the QTB's hull as it glided into the hangar space.

"Hey Marisol," Banks offered, "There's a bunch of us heading for Pensacola tonight. Drinks and some decent seafood. Wanna come along?"

"I can't tonight," she replied as the ship touched down. "Plans with hubby."

"Hell, I've got Natalie comin' out. Call him up!"

"He'll be pretty worn out, Andy," she lied. "We've got a quiet night planned."

"Alright," Banks nodded as the canopy above them lifted. "In case you change your minds, it's Sam's Seafood, on Main. Been there for hundreds of years, right across from Joe Patti's dock."

"Thanks. Have fun!" Marisol replied cheerfully as she climbed down from the cockpit. "Mitch," she said, catching the eye of the flight mech who greeted them, "did you get my notes?"

"We did. We're already retuning the entire squadron. Nice work, boss!"

"Thanks. Put the word out that I want a briefing tomorrow at 0700, an hour before the squadron goes up. The whole maint staff."

"Yes ma'am," Mitch replied, his expression serious. "Anything else?"

"I'll be at home," she said, "probably in a bath, with a glass of wine."

"Roger that. It'll be life or death only if I call. G'night, ma'am."

She walked in silence toward the pilots' locker room, finding pleasure in the idea that she'd soon peal off the bulky flight suit in favor of the more comfortable maintenance jumpsuit for the transporter ride home. Now thirty-nine, Marisol had kept in shape, despite the effects that time and gravity were oh so subtly weighing upon her. She'd seen the barest hint of a line upon her forehead. The other day, an examination of her hairbrush had yielded a single gray hair. "Surprised Luis hasn't given me more of those," she had thought at the time. Ahead lay another night at home, alone, with her husband off "entertaining clients."

"Entertaining AnnaMaria Vasquez, more likely," she growled as the flightsuit fell to her ankles. "And for me? A quiet night," she thought, "followed by another day on this rock."
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Re: S02Ep01 Prophet

Postby The Writer » Tue Jun 21, 2011 12:59 pm

LTCMDR Rick Barlow
Cerberus Project's Chief Engineer

OFF:
This post, in its funny sort of way, will play on the Cerberus Project, the project responsible for building the new Eternity. Hopefully this will help a few people get their characters into the game.

ON:
The Ildius sun burned high above, reflective water amplified the rays as a lone kayak continued its trek down the Reunion River heading south towards the Mino Reef. The weather was clear, crisp, a wind swept subtle through the trees that flanked the river's banks as LTCMDR Rick Barlow dipped the left than right side of the paddle into the cold water before letting the current take him in float.

He had spent the better part of two years on Starbase 354, the metal corridors, the view of space, the artificial gravity, all a direct contrast to the outdoors he had long since craved; but, at the prospect of actually being outside, smelling the fresh air, feeling the warm sun on his back, Barlow remembered he was ginger, the burning of his pale skin was like a slab of ham on a hot plate.

"Not the brightest idea I've had," he thought as again he stopped, placing the paddle on his lap before applying even more sunscreen to his sore arms, shoulder, and extra crispy nose. Again the words, "never again," passed his lips as he placed the bottle back in his bag and picked up the paddle, flicking the water off the end fins with a flick of his wrist. Ildius 3 was nice this time of year, the southern hemisphere near the Mino Reef (named after the Eternity's former runabout lost in the battle to take Ildus 3 from the Followers) was a paradise; and, it was something that Rick wanted to see and experience when he got enough leave to do so; granted, getting leave was never really leave if given his position on the Cerberus Project.

Barlow never imagined that, when saying yes to Alan Smithee, of what seemed a lifetime ago, that he would find himself back on Ildius 3, among life on Metar Colony, constructing not just a starbase, but the most advanced starship ever built, the Cerberus Class. It seemed that the project had unlimited resources and funding, any expert Barlow had in mind eventually found their way into the project. The Council, it seemed, had their hands in a lot of powerful pies. A few familiarities, Dr. Achillian, Mandrake, even Lieutenant Amelia Moore who was a crucial part of the ship's construction and technological advancement; and, although she didn't care to much on how she was recruited, kidnapped being the more appropriate word for it, Barlow tried to instill that it could have been worse: "you could have no one as charming as me to keep you company."

As far as working for the Council, being one of the many thousands of agents and members, Barlow had to admit that he felt as if he were making a difference. Starfleet law and Federation order, the politics and the misdirection he had experienced on the Eternity left him fed up with it all. When he was recruited by Smithee into this new world, within the first two months he knew that all those elements that made him sick in Starfleet didn't exsist in this new environment; the strength in the Council, it seemed, was that they weren't governed by laws but there own, more so, held a deep rooted ideology among all within the organization. It was refreshing to see the red tape cut for the greater good, to be a part of something greater than himself. He had hoped with talk and stride with Mia that she felt somewhat the same about her place among the many parts of the Council's machine.

But there was one aspect of working for the Council that Barlow couldn't quite handle, he tried to ignore it, but beyond all aspects of his new life with them, he couldn't put it out entirely from his mind. The Council's believe in the Legacy and the prophecy that it held, the end of mankind, was so concrete that they had caused events and allocated resources wholly to combat this one fate. Barlow didn't question the motives anymore, didn't reason doubt. He had seen the Legacy, the program, seen the end cap algorithm of the prophecy, a dark shadow that seemed to loom at the end of time, like a dark spot in a white board detailing one's life and one's end. It was a bit disturbing to think that all the Council's actions, even the actions taken by himself and others was all to circumvent this end. What if the end never came? What if they waited and watched the Legacy countdown until it all came? What if it didn't? Perhaps it was the brighter side of Barlow's attitude toward knowing his end that made him think it wouldn't happen.

Suddenly a scream, a roar of an engine (Barlow's acute ears picking up the subtle thrum of a Class 7 Impulse drive) echoed in the valley of trees, bouncing off the Reunion River like the walls of a cave; the sound twisting Rick Barlow from his thoughts as he drove his eyes towards the origin of the sound. Eventually he saw it, a small shuttlecraft, white, it gleamed off the sun's rays before setting down further along the river. Barlow shielded his eyes as he saw David Festal exit the shuttle, turning his gaze at the lone engineer floating towards him, David waved and Barlow returned the gesture.

"Thank God," Barlow muttered as he began to paddle towards the shore, his rescuer waiting to take him away from this paradise of heat and sun.

David Festal had been Barlow's right hand man, another pair of eyes to watch over elements of the Cerberus Project. He was a good man, had a family wife, two kids and boy and a girl; been with Starfleet Intelligence ever since being recruited by the Council much in the way Barlow had near the end of the Dominion War. Despite being relocated a lot, Dave had pretty much succumbed to it all tooth and nail, even more so on the Cerberus Project. Not much in the way of engineering experience, but the man knew what was the right way and the wrong way.

Rick sunk the right side of his paddle deep into the river, causing his kayak to slowly gear towards the shore. Listlessly tired, the Chief rammed the bow into ground enough to where the current was no longer a factor. He sat there for a brief moment, eyeing David through the camper of his hand shielding the sun. "Don't just stand there Dave, pull me in."

"Oh yeah," David called, his voice hinting startle as he grabbed the handle on the top point of the bow and pulled Barlow and his kayak in enough to where the Chief could exit without stepping in the river. "Damn Red, your red."

"I'm sure thats the only time I will hear that," Red smiled wiping his brow and splashing a few handfuls of cold river water to his face, he felt the sting of the sunburn on his face and again the words: "never again," found its way out of his mouth.

"Sure is pretty though," Dave continued, his hands at his hips, the dark cloth of his uniform cumulating him as if he were another person's shadow.

"Yeah," Red began turning back from the river to look at the dark uniformed officer, "if your not a red head like me and the sun becomes your enemy."

"Its called sunblock."

"Is that what this half empty bottle of spf 2 is," Red winked as he tossed the bottle and his pack into the shuttle. He took off his wet shirt, ringing it out before letting it lay on the side while he fished a dry shirt out. "So you want to tell me why my float trip was cut short, keep in mind how much I love the outdoors…,"

"Sorveck."

"Oh dear god," Barlow stated, thinking it and then stating it to reaffirm his mind to the concept that Sorveck was the man with the ear of the Council. Any actions taken in the Cerberus Project HAD to be reported to the eye patch-ed, Klingon/Vulcan. "Guy gives me the creeps."

"I wouldn't say that out loud Red, that man has eyes and ears just about everywhere."

They both laughed until Barlow finished putting on his pants and dark hued uniform. "So what? Does Sorveck want another status report of the ship or something?"

"The cloak technology and the transwarp core to be more precise."

"Ah," Barlow finished as he shoved his wet clothes into his day pack, stepping around the corner. "So far the cloak tech is working on small scale testing, Mia is working on the size variance to stabilize the nano-weave, but I think it will function like designed. Transwarp however is another story. We'll have to take the ship out to fully test that."

Dave nodded, leading the way onto the shuttle, taking the pilot seat while Rick took the side passenger.

The shuttle lifted off the river's shore, climbing up over the treelike as it gained more and more altitude, breaking through the cloud cover and eventually into space where, upon turning around, Starbase 354 loomed in the distance. Completed, the starbase seemed to glow with a camber light as shuttles and starships docked and undocked from her, a leeway gatekeeper to the colony below. The Ildius System had grown, resource rich, the system became the crown jewel territory of the Federation. Ildius 3 and the colony there seemed to grow in the same cadence; and, although Barlow thought at first to hide a clandestine ship's development among a crowd of prying starships and passing command staff was a bad idea, it became later an inspired concept. People don't notice things outside of their lives if it is beyond the norm within their everyday schedules. Hiding the Cerberus Class under the very nose of Starfleet was poetic almost.

"Shuttlecraft Zeta 7 requesting dock," David stated as the com-link opened in the generalized welcome hail from the starbase.

"Zeta 7 you are clear to enter docking port 3."

"Confirmed, thank you Flight Control."
__________________________________

The shuttlecraft docked and both Dave Festal and Rick Barlow stepped out onto the flight deck chaos of coming and going officers and ships. Everyone in a rush to get somewhere, to be somewhere, orders passed, orders received; it was amazing and again the concept of hiding the ship under all these people seemed more and more brilliant.

Starbase 354 was a different model starbase compared to traditional Starfleet design. Taller, more levels to be sure, but also instead of one topmost docking service stations, 354 boast two docking service stations; however the lower docking station was "out of order," or so thought everyone onboard that weren't Agents of the Council or in Starfleet Intelligence. Access to the lower service station was restricted to Engineering crews, and all of the engineering crew were with the Council.

Entering the expanse was like walking into another world, holographic display consoles, highly advanced facilities, research stations and development pools sprinkled the lower dock of Starbase 354. Barlow's office stood in ring one while Moore's and the rest of the Science and Development were in their own rings, both two and three. Four was manufacturing, hardware and software that had nearly outlived its purpose now that the ship was on its final stage of construction.

In the center, suspended in holding by a series of onramps and load bearing docking clamps was the ship. Its look shared in similarities to the Prometheus Class was evident in its four nacelle design, even the deck levels and split levels were all in trade with the class, allocating the maximum space within a smaller ship. The Cerberus Class was a bit larger than the Intrepid, having the capacity to land and maneuver better than a massive starship like the Sovereign or the Akira. However its color was different, the nano-weave hull plate and ablative energy coils made the ship trim with a hexagonal pattern, giving it a dark vibrancy. The energy cells in the weave seemed to react to the light, shimmering with a dark brilliance as the bustard collectors turned with a blue and orange glow, accentuating the purity of the nacelles cobalt light.

She was damn sexy, Barlow had to admit, built with Follower Technology but with Starfleet practicality; redundancy systems, adaptability and, above all else, safety. The thought originally, when the plan was approached to use Follower Technology to design a Starfleet vessel with the same capabilities frightened the hell out of him, but when he further learned that he was going to take lead on it, have full reign over saying yes or no to the design and retrofitting aspects of Follower Tech, his fear subsided. It was evident why he was picked, being the Chief Engineer of the Eternity, the modified scary one, he knew the pitfalls in the design; and, within the next two years and with a lot of help from a lot of different engineers and scientists, eventually he knew how to fix those flaws. The Cerberus Class was the product of that concept and it was nearing completion; soon to set sail through the stars.

"You hear their going to have a Romulan as the ship's Chief Engineer when its finished?" Dave's voice cut Barlow's thoughts causing the Engineer to turn from his gaze of the ship.

"As long as he or she doesn't have tattoos on his or her head and calls him or herself a Follower of Nero I have no problem with a Romulan taking the Chief post."

"I would think the Council would want Red Barlow on this one."

"Now that they know I can make a ship, with the right people behind me, they might want me somewhere in a different capacity." Red turned back towards the ship. "I wouldn't mind just doing this. Kind of like giving birth and seeing your kids go to the Academy though, but, I could find myself making ships for a living."

"You think the Council will want to develop more," Dave asked, stepping up to the viewport of the Cerberus Class starship?

"Oh I think so," Barlow stated assuredly, "one ship can't stop the supposed end, but a whole fleet…, perhaps."
~Gabriel "The Writer" Logan
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Re: S02Ep01 Prophet

Postby Aiustis » Tue Jun 21, 2011 2:44 pm

Bajor
Lonar Province
Tillia Monastary

"One more story!"It was the middle of the day, and though she was getting too old for naps the girl was nodding off. They didn't have much in common other than the name Yahan given up. Kesten Raelle, before she'd been so many aliases that the name had become meaningless to her. Instead of letting it die, she'd passed it on to someone much more worthy it was all that Yahan ever wanted to share with the girl. Raelle had her father's looks, coppery skin and curly locks of hair, his dimpled smile and, though Yahan was loath to admit it, his kind heart. From a life lived at a temple, she'd inherited a great deal of self dicipline and an eerie wisdom.

When Yahan had first returned to Bajor after months of mentally and physically exhausting physical therapy she hadn't planned on even seeing the girl. But her idiot of a brother and her former spouse had both wasted no time telling the girl that her mother was coming to visit. So reluctantly, Yahan went. She'd only seen her in pictures since leaving her at the monastary at the age of one. The six year old had surprised her by being extremely welcoming to her as if she hadn't left her at all as if she'd not completely ignored her the last five year of her life.

And the idea of leaving her quickly became difficult. No one had ever looked up to Yahan most people who truly knew her didn't even like her and yet, here was this young child that was so absolutely enamoured with her. Raelle hugged her around the middle as they sat in the grassy field. "Please." She widened her eyes looking a little more awake.

Yahan smiled and tweaked her nose. "Oh no! I already gave you four 'one more stories'."

"But I want to get as many as I can before you go!"

She looked down at Raelle sharply; this was a very astute child. Yahan hadn't said anything about leaving. She hugged the girl. "I'm not leaving just yet." She stood up and picked up the girl to carry her back inside.

Though it wasn't too far to carry the girl, her arm started causing her trouble; it wasn't too painful. It was one of the rare instances of a biosynthetic limb not being fully functioning. The physical therapy had enabled her to function enough that she'd soon have to return to duty. But it would be years before she was really great with her arm again and didn't have to think before she used it and sometimes the damaged nerves caused a little pain. Being here had been good for her though. She laid Raelle down on the bed of her small and simple room. Then sat there watching her.

"Come in." Yahan said as someone knocked on the door. Her brother stood in the doorway smiling. "Hi," she said in a low voice not wanting to wake Raelle. "What is it?" He motioned for her to come with him.

"You've got a message." He said. She and her brother had always had a strange relationship. They'd never talked much or spent much time around each other, even when they had lived in the same house together. Despite that, the were very close and understood each other more than anyone else.

Yahan sighed. "Oh great. I'll probably be leaving soon."
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Re: S02Ep01 Prophet

Postby sail3695 » Tue Jun 21, 2011 3:45 pm

Dr. Klaus Meyer
Mt. Onara, Eastern slope
Planet Bamarr, Rakuul System
Alpha/Gamma Quadrant border sectors

“Personal log, May 25, 2391. I fear that my suspicions about the actual size of the Bamarr Caldera have been confirmed. The volcanic chain we’d originally theorized to comprise the actual perimeter has proven to be merely a series of central vents. Pressure from the sub crust has now revealed to me that the mountains to the Northwest and East are more than evidence of mere faults; these ranges present the edges of a previously unmapped tectonic plate. This plate, perhaps a fragment of the much larger San Miguel, is most likely to have been dislodged by pressure from the underlying magma chamber, prompting the massive quakes and seismic activity we’ve measured for the past three weeks.

Ninety-three hours ago, seismic measuring equipment in both mountain ranges recorded violent upward shifts, which triggered numerous quakes ranging 9.2 to 10.7 on the Richter scale. The frequency and increasing violence of these events have prompted the evacuation of the Bamarr colony. At the time of my departure to observe the activity on the Northwest range, I was told that a Federation starship was en route to receive the colonists. My only wish is that Emma has been taken off planet to safety.

As for myself, I am stranded on the Eastern slope of Mt. Onara, formerly the highest peak on the Northwest range. Onara erupted 28 hours ago, revealing her identity as a super volcano. I took shelter from the initial rain of hot pumice and stone, but my personal shuttle was destroyed. The mountain has released several magma flows and 2 pyroclastic surges that I am aware of. A fall in the darkness has resulted in a fractured leg, thus rendering me immobile. In the distance, North and South, I can see the glow of fire, and have witnessed eruptions. Surely, the entire caldera will explode, and I consider myself fortunate to have a front row seat for one of natural history’s most exclusive events. I do hope that this record survives me. Entry concluded, Dr. Klaus Meyer, Managing Volcanologist, Federation Geological Survey, Bamarr Study.”

Meyer shifted his body, clearing it from the thick coating of light as air pumice which had continued to fall, along with volcanic ash. The final filter to his breather mask had gone in 6 hours ago; the doctor had resorted to pounding the mask upon the ground to dislodge the ash which his respirations had caked into the intakes. His water had gone, destroyed when the shuttle fell victim to a lava flow. “My water, food, and my locator beacon,” he thought. “They’ll never find me. Perhaps,” the volcanologist reasoned, “I’ll be immortalized, my body cast in hot ash and pumice from a pyroclastic flow. My personal Pompeii.” The thought gave him laughter.

The sky above had been black for days, allowing no sunlight, no break in the unrelenting clouds of ash and smoke. All light now came from the planet herself, through wounds from which her life’s blood burst forth, glowing a fiery orange. The vision, he reasoned, would surely provide inspiration for a modern day Dante.

He couldn’t be certain, but Klaus had decided some ten hours ago that he must be deaf. His hearing had first cut out during the initial eruption of Onara. The steady roar which had since filled the atmosphere was barely heard by him as he’d first attempted to escape, then lay down to complete his final report. The ground heaved. To North and South, he could suddenly see the fissures, opening to reveal deep, glowing evidence of the rebellious ocean of magma upon which he now sat. “They’re coming,” Meyer thought. “To intersect right here, at Onara. This will be exciting.”

Forty miles to the East, the colony lay in darkness. Klaus had seen their lights wink out just over six hours ago, as he’d found a sheltered ledge on the mountain’s face to hold his final vigil. Fear had turned to relief during the past hour, as he’d noticed the blue glow of shuttle engines descending. The starship had arrived. “Of course, shuttles,” he thought. The EM levels must be astonishingly high. Transporters are out. “Emma,” he said aloud, “I hope that you did the sensible thing. I love you, always.”

His peace made, Meyer settled back to witness the event of a millennium. He’d see what generations of volcanologists and geologists had only guessed at. He would know the truth, finally understand the mystery, see just how accurate all human theory had been. The price of admission? His life. From his position on Onara’s Eastern slope, Meyer thought he’d been given a bargain.

The fissures were closing in; he estimated each to be moving toward him at roughly sixty miles per hour. The planet’s crust collapsed before them, opening the gash to widths of a hundred feet and more as it came. The sudden triggering of energy sent lava exploding upward, as 2 brilliant curtains of fire which were being drawn closed. “So beautiful,” he thought. “Not long now….a minute or two.”

A flash caught his eye. A strange glimmer, a reflection, just above one of the fissure eruptions. He craned his neck, trying to make sense of it, but the reflection did not return. “Maybe an old piece of mining or well equipment, blown skyward,” he thought, soon returning his attention to the geologic passion play spread out before him. “Here’s to the end of the world,” Meyer smiled, raising his left hand in salute to he power of nature.

A brilliant beam of light burst forth, bathing the slope with a pool which swung to and fro. The falling ash glowed white in the searchlight’s beam, giving him a moment’s impression of a snow covered Douglas Fur. “My god, they sent a rescue?” he thought. “Are they mad? You!” he shouted, surprised at the outrage which now welled from within him. “Go away! Bugger off!” Angrily, he waved both arms. It was then that the pool of light discovered him, and held steady. “I should’ve remained still,” Meyer thought ruefully as the odd little craft closed upon his position. It was barely large enough for it’s pilot, let alone a passenger. The ship hovered in, searching for a place to set down. As the tiny craft veered right and left, Meyer read the identification upon it’s sides.

“NCC-4217,” he said aloud. “USS Repulse.”

The ship nosed in, it’s attempts at landfall hesitant, until finally, it’s occupant set down with an awkward thump. Meyer could make note of the small engines, which the pilot had left running as he forced open the right side cockpit hatch. In a moment, the man was above him. Instead of the young Starfleet Ensign he would’ve expected, this man was much older, nearly Klaus’s own age. “Dr. Meyer?” the man shouted, his accent British. Well, perhaps the hearing wasn’t gone, after all….

“Of course,” Meyer answered in his own shout.

“I’m Commander Byrne,” the man continued. “Can you move? Are you injured?”

“My leg,” Meyer responded, pointing toward the fracture. “Broken.”

The land buckled beneath them, bringing the StarFleet officer to his knees. “I’m sorry!” the man Byrne shouted. “This is going to hurt!”

Meyer had no time to react, He screamed with the shifting of his leg as he found himself hauled up, to have his body thrown over the shoulder of the Englishman. Each step jarred him, sending new shrieks of pain through his body as the man hauled him down the slope toward the waiting ship. Just as they’d come abreast of the cockpit, the ground heaved crazily once more, dropping Byrne to his knees. Meyer grabbed at the shuttle for purchase, landing on his usable foot. He turned, his eyes training just in time to witness the side of the mountain as it imploded. “We must hurry,” he cautioned his rescuer, who sent him into new sheets of pain by hauling him into the left seat.

“Strap in!” Byrne shouted before sealing the canopy and running to leap into his own side. Once the starboard canopy had sealed, the world became startlingly quiet, but for a persistent ringing in Meyer’s ears, complimented by the whine of the engines as Byrne throttled up the power. “Doctor, what is that?” he asked, indicating the heavy cloud which roiled angrily as it raced down the slope toward them.

“A pyroclastic flow,” Meyer replied. “Superheated gas and ash. Unless this ship is built to withstand two thousand degrees Fahrenheit…”

“It’s not,” the Englishman interrupted, hauling upward on the control yolk. The ship lurched into the air, swinging her tail toward the approaching death. Thrusters kicked in, sending them rushing down the slope toward the valley floor, the furious cloud trailing immediately behind. It reached for them with swirling tendrils.

“Faster,” Meyer said, his voice an icy calm. “We must go faster.”

“Building speed,” Byrne said. “This is a worker bee, doctor. More akin to a lumber cart than a shuttle….”

The little ship struggled forward, skimming across the valley floor. From his new vantage point, Meyer noted that the entire surface was rippling with shockwaves and seismic energy barely contained. “The crust is fragmenting,” he said aloud, more for his own benefit than that of his pilot. Craning his neck to look aft, Klaus watched in awe as the two fissures raced together. In a maelstrom of smoke and flame, Mt. Onara suddenly collapsed, victim to the insatiable appetites of the planet that now seemed to be tearing itself apart. “Fantastic,” Meyer said. “Fantastic….”

“Doctor…” the Brit interrupted, “we have trouble.” The volcanologist’s attention returned, his gaze swinging back toward the valley floor. Before their eyes, the broad surface had begun to sink, collapsing upon itself. Plumes of ash rose into the sky, punctuated by jets of lava. The little ship veered wildly to avoid fingers of molten death. “We need to build speed,” the Englishman said.

“And quickly,” Meyer responded. “The entire caldera is primed to explode.”

Before them, the surface suddenly dropped, sending up a wall of intense magma spray. Byrne hauled at the stick, forcing the small work ship into a steep climb, trading speed for altitude. Escape velocity, the necessary goal, slipped further away as the ship, designed only for zero G environments, struggled to pull herself aloft. Meyer‘s head swiveled quickly, taking in every sight the enhanced altitude could grant, assessing the event’s progress, formulating a new hypothesis. As the shuttle clawed it’s way upward, he studied the drastically altered terrain of the planet. Both mountain ranges had disappeared. From this altitude, he could see the paths of the two fissures; each seemed to have begun along the former Eastern range. Both had taken a meandering, semicircular route, before finally converging upon the Northwest mountains, Onara in particular. Now, everything within their boundaries had become a firestorm. “Like a large hatch,” he thought, taking in the grand view. “Oh my god!”

“What’s that?” the Englishman asked, his attentions focused upon coaxing the worker bee upward.

“Don’t you see?” Meyer shouted, his excitement barely contained. “It’s a birth. She’s giving birth!”

“What?”

“A moon, Mr. Byrne!” the scientist laughed. “A newborn moon! My god, no one has ever seen this before!”

“Hoping we live to tell the tale,” the Englishman snapped. “Come on, you wreck… Byrne to Repulse. Repulse, do you copy?” he asked of his commbadge, only to receive a burst of static. “EM interference is still a bit high.”

The tiny ship’s engines strained, hauling her slowly upward through the thick atmosphere. Byrne, her pilot, willed her to climb, as Dr. Meyer, a euphoric expression upon his face, watched the increasing violence at play below. Just as the cloud ceiling drew near, the churning surface was suddenly lit with a blinding flash. “This is it!!” Meyer shouted, turning his gaze upon his final human companion. “Mr. Byrne, you must see this!”

They burst through the cloud, their view temporarily obstructed before the force of the blast beneath obliterated the cover altogether. The view it revealed was one to cause both men to gasp in awe. Behind them, it seemed as if the entire planet had given chase, hurling stone and flaming magma in their wake. The atmosphere thinned, easing the load upon the craft’s overtaxed engines to allow a parity with the wall of projectiles rising in pursuit.

Ahead, the stars beckoned. Behind, the glowing magma followed, it’s brightness dulling as it cooled with the rise to the much colder temperatures of the higher altitude. Of greater concern was the mass, which followed close behind. Glowing a brilliant white, the new horizon raced on, swallowing the fragments which pursued them, overtaking them in it’s rush skyward. “There she is!” Meyer exulted. “There’s our new girl!”

The glowing moon swept on, closing the distance, her newfound gravity clutching greedily upon the little ship, beckoning them to join the new mass of her as she rose into the sky. The worker bee’s engines struggled, faltering under the load. “This could be a problem,” Byrne said as a violent shaking overtook the vessel. “Byrne to Repulse…Repulse….doctor, we’ve about thirty seconds before impact. Brace yourself. Repulse, do you copy?”

Soon, the sky had cleared of all the pursuing fragments; they’d now been sucked into the newly birthed moon, which cast an iridescent glow upon the little work ship as her tortured engines sputtered, then failed under the strain. The craft stuttered in her course, the nose beginning to swing as an escape route became an arc. Only static greeted them. For a moment, both men held silent, one beginning to feel a strangely resigned peace, while the other watched, enthralled at the grandeur of the event which would now forever claim them.

“Doctor Meyer,” the Englishman said quietly, “I’m sorry. It looks as if we’ll not be joining the ship.”

“That’s alright, Mr. Byrne,” Meyer smiled. “I wouldn’t have missed this for anything.” The infant moon glowed white-hot as the worker bee now faced it, the arc of her descent ending in a direct dive. “We do get naming rights,” the scientist chuckled. “What shall we call her?”

“Hmmm,” his companion thought aloud as the white horizon rose in all directions. “Shall we name her after your wife? Emma?”

“Generous,” the volcanologist laughed. “I was thinking Meyer-Byrne, but you’re right. Emma it is. This was good fun, Mr. Byrne.”

“Colin,” the Englishman grinned, offering a hand.

“Klaus.” The scientist extended his own hand, and both men shook, their final human contact firm and of a respectful friendship. Neither seemed inclined to release the grasp. Klaus Meyer watched as the surface arose to meet them. “Ten seconds or so,” he mused. The white hot moon lay right before them. Meyer could see jets of vented gas, and noted the slight reduction of the new moon’s brilliant glow. “She’s cooling…”

The words were snatched from his mouth by a hammer blow to his chest. The straps suddenly tightened, digging into his shoulders, as the weight of his body seemed to come down fully upon the fractured leg, causing an explosion of pain. He screamed as every nerve was set ablaze, only dimly aware of the view outside, which had whirled away from the glowing hot surface, coming to face instead a night sky full of stars. As the underside of the starship swept the sky above them, Dr. Klaus Meyer lost consciousness.
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Re: S02Ep01 Prophet

Postby Sonja Kinnunen » Wed Jun 22, 2011 12:42 am

Lieutenant Talla Vreenak
Chief Engineering Officer
USS Eternity-A

"There would be no question if Starfleet design did not require triple redundancy systems and enough amenities to make any starship feel like a floating colony," a voice called over one shoulder, its owner facing the opposite direction as his dark eyes had been busy scanning the readouts on a technical PADD he held in one hand. "And your dilithium crystals," his high baritone voice trailed off suddenly, leaving his thoughts on the matter unexpressed. It was only fortunate that as a renown engineer in the Empire that Vreenak had taken to studying their "enemy's" technical design; sadly working on its hands on had not improved his initial evaluation of the technology compared to that of the forced quantum singularity a D'Deridex warbird used.

Turning around, the Romulan Lieutenant--a rank assigned by Starfleet to provide him with a moderate level of authority, particular for this latest assignment, without upsetting "the locals"--looked at the men that'd been admiring the present and future of the vessel and its line suspended before them. Just in the style that could make men sigh with relief, Vreenak did not have any sort of facial tattoos or painting. The prominent ridging of a traditional Romulan was plain to see; even as a "member" of the Federation the Lieutenant still kept the light, short cut of traditional Romulan style for duty. His light olive green complexion reflected the difference in blood chemistry between himself and the populous Human or Human-like people of the Federation.

Taking several steps forward he moved up alongside the other men, two paces to the side, with his attention fixed on the vessel that had so captivated their attention just a short while ago. "I congratulate you and your team on being able to get the technology to work together as quickly as you have. There are, however, fundamental differences in our designs that have no doubt delayed implementation of certain pieces--such as the cloaking device." Vreenak wasn't one to lay back in a cot en route to a destination, putting off work or research that needed done. The trip to this remote system--relative to Earth--had given him more than enough time to brush up on what they'd been doing for the past two years.

Despite his otherwise level tone and lack of any smile, the Lieutenant did find their progress remarkable, but also foolhardy in some aspects. There were reasons why Federation starships were apprehensive about engaging a lone Romulan warbird, and it wasn't because of the D'Deridex's sheer size. On the other hand, Romulan vessels rarely carried gardens or lakes inside them for 'recreation.' A difficult in culture. In some respects a difference Vreenak would be happy to education Starfleet on so they could improve; while at the same time, for obvious reasons, not going out of his way to do just that.

It was something to note that Mister Barlow did not seem as... taken with the idea of "The End" as laid out by "The Prophecy" that "The Council" held with such high esteem--or infamy. It was also something to note how these people seemed to like using "The" a lot as if it gave the entire thing an untouchable sort of legitimacy. True, this--or The--program sounded quite adept at its job, but Vreenak was seriously skeptical about its ability to predict the future. As a man steeped in Science whose very nature was constantly in flux, Vreenak simply couldn't buy into the pitch about a program that knew, for a fact, how things would turn out. Therefore, it was refreshing to know his predecessor and man in charge of building more of these ships hadn't "bought the company line." Fanatics were a dangerous thing; a thought that would keep Vreenak paying close attention to those ever higher up the chain of command in this region.

Coming back around to the initial topic, Vreenak decided to take a little more burden off present company's shoulders, as a way of "making" conversation. "Nero," a pause so the gentlemen could adapt the change in topic, "was not even worthy of being a Praetor. Had things been different he would have continued his life in obscurity, where he and his kind obviously belonged." Vreenak looked over at the men pointedly. "Self-respecting Romulans did not recognize him as their leader. However," while he seriously doubted anyone thought the man was going to be the next ruler of a New Romulan Star Empire, "they may not be as receptive to the Federation's part in stopping him." Just in case anyone thought the Romulan people were suddenly going to throw their arms open to the warm and fuzzy Federation. At best they might not get nearly as many uprisings; at worst... well, Vreenak fully expected it would come about sooner or later. The Tal Shiar would be the last group to abandon the Old Ways; they would be at or near the heart of any "resistance."

Where the Lieutenant's loyalties stood remain an unanswered question. You would never find him renouncing his citizenship as a member of the Romulan Star Empire, however, nor get him to "confess" any secrets that may have once existed. And there were secrets. As polite and well meaning as Vreenak's actions might seem, he was not sold on the Federation's presence as a good, new direction for the Romulan people. Their customs and history were too different. Even the Klingons couldn't "assimilate" into the Federation. If the Humans knew what was good for them they'd rebuild the Romulan government and leave things well enough alone from there. The alternative was going to be a long, sordid affair.
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Re: S02Ep01 Prophet

Postby Mia Cummings » Wed Jun 22, 2011 1:37 am

Lt Amelia 'Mia' Moore
CSCI
USS Eternity-A

Amelia hadn't liked the fact that she wouldn't be meeting with Colin as planned and she wasn't happy that Sorveck had made it impossible to even talk to him to let him know it wasn't her choice. She'd been spirited away and the Isochips she had so dutifully protected had become her prison. She'd learned a lot in two years. Finally breaking some of the follower code, that part that told how to incorporate the nanite technology.

Two years ago she'd waited for Colin to come rescue her from this hell she found herself in. But that hadn't happened. Instead she'd been locked away in a secret ship yard, deep in the bowels of a brand new starbase... 354. Two years ago, she had thought that love would conquer over this evil. Two years ago she'd tried to get messages to Colin. Asking anyone going up to the Base proper if they could relay a message. Twice she been visited by Sorveck, who had made it clear that she was to stop trying to contact Cmdr Byrne. He'd made veiled threats, “It would be devastating for that Rape charge to suddenly reappear.” Mia knew the threat was both frightening and possible.

Besides Sorveck, who watched her like a hawk, the only other person she knew from before was Red Barlow. More than once he had tried to make it seem a little better, saying he was charming company. He was, but he wasn't Colin. The first few months she'd cried herself to sleep many a night. She'd long since stopped crying. Now she just felt abandoned. Forgotten, just like Anastasia whats-her-name was. Now, two years later she was still a prisoner here. Building this ship had at least kept her busy. She still refused to do more than the work on the ship. She would not join Sorveck's sordid little family of spies. She was not going to let him bring her down that far. When she'd arrived they had given her a uniform not unlike his black one. She still would not wear that. Her SF uniform was all she had to remind her of who she really was, and she wore it, despite the fact that she was told she had no need to maintain the facade. She remembered telling the man who'd spoken those words that it was the only thing that wasn't a fake.

That same man,one Daniel McDermott, had been an almost constant companion since then. Officially her assistant, but she knew he was there to make sure she did what they wanted her to do. She remembered the time when she had attempted to go 'upstairs' when she'd heard the Repulse was going to dock. She remembered Colin talking about that ship had wondered if he'd be on it. She'd made it as far as the security door when her assistant suddenly found a problem that “only” she could deal with. And she'd seen Sorveck's hand in that. That was almost 18 months ago. Funny how it seemed both like yesterday and yet ages ago. A lot had changed since then.

The newly designed Ceberus Class ship was almost complete. She was almost certain that her services would no longer be needed in a short time. She just hoped Sorveck would have the decency to face her at the end and not send his shadows to do the job.

Looking back at the ship she'd helped design she sighed deeply. This new ship was a wonder, to be sure. They had found the key to controlling the nanites, Now there was only so much they could do. And the cloak technology was nearly perfect now. The best was that the ship still needed a crew to run her. The Nanites would not be as cognizant as their predecessors.

Working at a console outside the ship, she was working on the final systems she was responsible for, setting the interface with the nanites and the ships control systems. McDermott walked up behind her holding a PADD. “Did you hear, they'll be launching her soon.” His smile did not reach his eyes, “I wonder where they'll send you next.” Mia looked at McDermott, “I am hoping it is as far from You and Sorveck as possible.”

The man started laughing and turned away, “Good luck with that. One of us maybe, but not both.”
Mia Cummings; AMO/Lt.: USS John C Stennis - CSEC/Lt.: USS Stargazer SFOL * Sa'Ra;Security Officer/Ensign: USS Firewall * Cdr. Amber (Tamara) Darius-Belmont - Chief Medical Officer: USS Atlantis * Lt Amelia "Mia" Moore, CSCI; USS Eternity *
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Re: S02Ep01 Prophet

Postby FSF Bourne » Wed Jun 22, 2011 10:21 am

OOC: This is the first of three posts that will bring Sarah up to the present day. The second, which I rewrote for the sixth time while away, will go up later this week and then I can start drawing from her in real time.

Oh, and sorry about the length of this post. :P

Sarah Jamieson
The Gamma Quadrant

Sarah leaned back, the journey had been long and the loneliness had been tougher than she expected. She had set the small single pilot ship to orbit around the sole asteroid that was orbiting the nearby system, her environmental suit was heavy within the confines of gravity, its arduous movements prevented any fast reactions and, as such, the ship had flown the last leg of its journey automatically. Her suit, not one that Starfleet would have ever issued, was a dull white, covered in armour plating with powerful boosters connected to ease movement while in use. The head piece, which sat beside Sarah on the console, consisted of a reinforced visor and lighting to illuminate even the darkest of areas. Sarah had spent the majority of the last year compiling the equipment she needed for her little operation, the suit she had stumbled upon accidentally, a bumbling scientist had offered her a trial and, after a few hours, Sarah knew she had found her armour. The key piece was the intelligent computer system that connected her ship and suit as one. The suit was programmed to monitor vital signs, record audio and visual signals and provided enough capacity to wage a full scale war against a small army. The ship offered live streaming of all information, backup recordings in its memory banks and, if something should go wrong and vital signs should drop, she would be automatically beamed back aboard and the ship would make for the nearest friendly station.

Sarah opened the rear hatch of the shuttle with the press of a single button, she scooped her helmet over her head and locked it in place once she had position it correctly. She tested her communications set up and ensured it was reading through on the central shuttle console.Once certain she was ready she stepped through the hatch, sealed it down and began the decompression cycle before, finally, opening the rearmost hatch to open space. In her mind, Sarah was running through her pre-jump checklist the doctor had insisted on. Sarah peered over the edge out in to the cold, silent darkness, the asteroid was a few hundred feet away and Sarah's jump needed to be timed to perfection. The suit had become light, like a second skin and Sarah could feel her body reacting to compensate for the extra weight, her muscles ached at first, but then quickly understood and become accustomed to what was going on.

Sarah took a step back, pressed the countdown on the back wall to begin shutting the rear door and, with her left foot, powered forward off the hard shuttle floor. She leaned forward as she rolled out, clenched her right hand and felt the thrusters in her boots activate - another feature Sarah had come to admire - squeezing her fist tighter activated the larger thrusters in her boots, allowing her to build up speed, twisting the fist activated her pitch and roll thrusters, small but just as touchy, both hands stayed clasped against her side as she powered through the first cycle of her journey downwards and began a short descent towards the large man-made entrance on the surface.

Sarah came down with a thud, the suit automatically bent at the knees and her hands came out to steady her from toppling over, she pushed up with her hands and regained a standing position on the large, grey northern continent that was, for the moment, drenched in darkness. She put her right foot forward first, the ground wasn't as stable as she hoped and made a note to take small steps, she wasn't in a hurry and an accident while out here alone could be catastrophic. Sarah moved two hundred feet in the next fifteen minutes, finally stepping on to the large metal ramp that supplied the underground structure, the shuttle bay doors had been sealed from the outside with a large metal bar stuck across barring any thoroughfare, the personnel entrance was different and, once Sarah had quickly surveyed it, she broke the computer open and entered the digital lock-breaks she had been supplied. The door hissed as it opened, the air that rushed outwards pushed Sarah back slightly and harassed her as she pushed her body inwards, willing herself forward.

Sarah reached around with her right hand, she clasped the handle of her assault rifle and brought it around to her front, firstly checking the chamber and the load out, nestling it in her shoulder and using the light that sat beneath the barrel to scan her immediate surroundings, she took a breath, steadying herself as she planned her next move and took a step forward.

"Turn internal lights off, external lights to maximum," The suit didn't respond verbally, instead it instantly dimmed the light that had been illuminating Sarah's face and powered three external lights that provided light over a ten metre radius. "Begin audio and visual recordings, ensure back ups and emergency beacon are primed and ready." No sound again as the door finally closed behind Sarah, an echo ringing throughout the large open space as the metal hit its home positions, sealing her inside the large underground station.

The young marine checked her wrist, the flash of green certified the air quality and she quickly retracted the face plate of her suit. The air was stale as Sarah took her first breath inwards, she considered her options and quickly lowered the face plate once again. The air recycling system had obviously failed and Sarah didn't want whatever was down here infecting her. She took a step in to the large, mostly empty, hangar bay, a few shuttles lay dormant on the out edges of her sight but more of the space was left open, empty, as if waiting for someones return. Sarah moved forward, lead by her assault rifle, she scanned left and right with each step, her cumbersome armour now preventing agile movements and causing her to move very slow and purposefully.

Sarah came across a wreckage towards the left hand wall, she knelt beside the cabin and inspected the corpses that still sat in place in the pilot seat. The passenger ferry obviously supplied a much larger ship, shuttles of this size weren't meant for long hauls and, Sarah surmised, this had probably been caused by a hasty evacuation, one door and multiple shuttles trying to fit through.

"What happened here?" Sarah said rhetorically, she sighed a loud cautious breath as she stood once again, consulting the layout on her wrist and turning towards the single thoroughfare that supplied the western most cargo bay of this facility. The door wasn't closed, it had been jammed open by a large metal rod that had been dug in to the floor and ceiling. A computers safety protocols would have prevented closing once the door met such resistance. Were people being sealed in or sealed out? Sarah didn't know, she gripped the handle of her assault rifle tighter, determined not to be the next victim.

The long, winding corridors would have been confusing had she not had a map, the spider web design of the complex offered entrances to different rooms, adjoining hallways and elevator shafts. Even consulting her plan at every junction Sarah had to make multiple stops and back track to different hallways. The sound of her large boots clashing with the cold hard metal floor echoed throughout the facility, although no response came and no movement could be found. Sarah noted bloodstains on the walls of some of the rooms, their patterns looked familiar, she had seen the hand prints before in books that had been written about the wars Earth had fought before space travel was a reality. People locked away, madness ensuing in a darkness that would quickly consume them. Hand prints, fist marks and large, rounded prints from a head - Was this some form of asylum? Sarah felt a cool chill run down her spine, trying to shake off the silent fear she felt creeping up inside her.

Hours passed, Sarah investigated each section and went room by room, the silence had become maddening, the young marine had kept her sanity by humming gently to herself as she ensured all images were captured for later review. Eventually she found the central hub, this wasn't the room she was looking for but knew it was the only room that fed in to the section of the facility that would have been hidden from all who served here. Sarah's pack crashed to the floor as she released it from her shoulders. Finding a console amongst the multiple rows that was central enough that she would be able to power it up and also view the main screen that adorned the entire front most wall. Sarah dropped a power cell from her pack and twisted two of the wires together, she reached beneath her chosen console and snapped the cover off, ducking down and half crawling inside to connect a new power source that would give the system ability enough to boot in to a working operating system.

The computer moaned and beeped as Sarah reappeared from below, a scroll of black writing on a white background flicked up and the computer checked its system over, eventually settling down and providing a light whir in the background. With all this silence, the sound was a welcome noise to add to Sarah's abysmal attempts at carrying a tune. The computer popped up with three options that Sarah considered intently before selecting. Theta Team, OPSEC, and "Classified". Sarah knew where each would lead and quickly ran the password she had memorized for the classified section through her mind. She didn't want to start there, however, she wanted to start with her former team.

The "Theta Team" menu popped open into a larger directory, the first roster page flicked up with five names, John Sheen was the first, listed now as a master sergeant. The rest of the names, Sarah found, she didn't recognize, she cycled through page after page and found they were currently assigned to a Dr. Robert Groves, operating out of the Office of the Inspector General. Earth was a strange place for a specialist fire-team to be operating but Sarah didn't pause, a lot about this whole thing was strange. Sarah found her name, along with the name of her former team mates, relegated to a former members section. Most had labels across their files, three large letters "K.I.A" in bold red type. Sarah's, the bottom most file, was blank, like someone had walked away before finalizing the input.

Sarah skipped the OPSEC section of the computer, knowing that would be more about the personnel around base - Nothing she cared about - and moved straight on to the classified section. This computer was old, it wouldn't stand up to a little bit of a hack very easily, but the codes Sarah input when prompted worked perfectly. This last section flicking forward to a much larger, more extensive, section. She opened a quick search and input her name. This time multiple files popped up, the first of which being a video file that, once clicked on, immediately began to play.

"Log number 12," The man on the video looked in to the screen, obviously adjusting the camera recording. "I am Dr. Robert Groves, this is subject number one," The camera adjusted focus slightly. A woman sat in a chair, her long hair down across her face, her eyes didn't leave the ground, her head never lifted. "Starfleet intelligence classify psy-ops at the top secret level," He paused thinking of his newest statement. "Perhaps we can finally demonstrate why they need us?" Sarah flopped on to the seat, at this moment she didn't care about the stale air that would wash over her or the possibility of infection, she retracted her visor and leaned forward, studying the moving images.

"Test subject is Sarah Jamieson," Groves turned from the camera, waved in a few techs to stand around the room, presumably, to offer some form of protection. "She was on a mission when, well, what can I say?" Groves smiled an evil smile, "The mission was accomplished with minimum casualties, that sounds about right, doesn't it?" He looked down to Sarah, his eyes flashed and, even through a distorted lens, she could tell he saw her as little more than a lab rat. "Just you and your team mates having some fun, right?"

Sarah looked up, the contempt on her face obvious in her eyes but her face just cracked a small smile and she breathed easy. "Yes, Dr. Groves," Sarah sighed and stood, the orderlies moved in but were quickly stood down by the doctor. "We were on Risa, weren't we, the pleasure planet!" The happiness in Sarah's voice was the most real emotion she could have ever felt.

"As you can see, subject one has been trained to believe she was on Risa," He nodded for her to sit down. "We want to incorporate a serious event - Murder, Rape, that kind of unpleasantness - in there to explain to anyone why she may be blocking the event out. We believe if we throw shadow over her team leader, she won't want to remember."

"What the hell are you doing?!" A woman's voice boomed from the doorway, Groves spun, slipped and cowered as he slammed down on the hard metal surface.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," He begged, as he pushed his feet against the ground in an attempt to retreat against the farthest wall. “I’m the father of psy-ops! People must know the truth, the level of what I achieved must be known by all. I will be remembered!”

“You will be remembered as the monster you really are, Robert!” The woman's voice had not let up and pierced through the tension in the room. “We allowed you to work for us in exchange for freedom and the continuation of your work under our banner. This just won’t do. We cannot have this go public!”

The woman finally came in to view, her curled blond hair and Starfleet uniform were crisp, clean, she approached with a veracity rarely seen from non-combat operatives. She looked at the camera for just a second, flashing her auburn eyes in to view, then slammed her right hand against it, causing the system to crash and the video to go blank. Sarah rocked on her heels, the heavy suit prevented much movement but she could feel her muscles pushing her back and forth, the images playing through her mind again and again. She didn’t know what to make of the images and certainly couldn’t process what she had seen fully - Not here in this place, anyway.

The video closed and Sarah quickly began copying over materials with a small drive she had in her bag. As soon as the drive kicked in to life a warning flashed across the screen, the security system had been made aware of illegal copying and was going in to lock down. Seconds later another message flashed as the system reported security protocols were down - The base was on a two minute self destruct countdown. Sarah’s body jumped to life as she attempted to gather her things, her mind, however, wasn't with her body at all. She never remembered that day. Couldn't remember that room or Dr. Groves.

She exited by the exact route she had entered, finally uncoupling the outer door to allow the atmosphere to rush through, she had to fight against it to stop herself getting swept in to space. Sarah couldn't move fast enough, she needed to get away, needed to be away from this place. Even though she hadn't remembered it, she felt the evil surrounding it. Sarah called her shuttle and it quickly skipped in to view, external thrusters firing to lower itself as she fired her personal boosters to reach the entrance quicker. Once she had her boots securely down at the rear hatch she couldn’t help but turn and watch the destruction.

Fire reigned for a few seconds, the surface seemed to collapse in on itself from a central focus point, fire tried to escape but was quickly doused by the vacuum which it had found. Sarah watched with a burning passion, she would have wiped her eyes clear to get a better view but knew it wouldn't have helped. In the silence she turned, swallowed the lump that had tried to jump from her throat back in the facility and finally sighed.

"What were you doing there, Mum?" She said, her voice soft, captured by the deathly silence of the space around her and trapped away for eternity, as if her words meant nothing. She sealed the rear hatch and began the repressurization of her docking bay.

She knew she had made a mistake, of course she had, Sarah had acted under an emotional strain that threatened to break her. She hadn't thought about the consequences, hadn't considered searching the remainder of the base or checking for the section which she had primarily come to see - The section the video had been shot - but, as she sat in the pilots seat of her shuttle, she couldn't come to regret her decision. Sarah tilted her head upwards, the small amount of clothing she wore under her environmental suit was all that was covering her, the small fabric stretched across the more private areas of her body as the shuttles systems pumped hot air over the rest, the contours of her body welcoming the processed, heated oxygen as it warmed the cabin around her.

"Take me home," Sarah sighed as she slipped deeper in to the chair, allowing her head to rest on the arm and her eyes to gaze upwards to the grey ceiling above. Her thoughts, unsurprisingly, were on what she had seen in the video. The main view screen of her shuttle replayed the images over and over, the sound was turned to its maximum setting and vibrated across the control column as the scene before her played out for the fifth time.

"What did you do, mum?" Sarah asked herself, her eyes open but not focusing, had her Mum set things up from the very beginning? Sarah couldn't tell from the short video clipping but knew her Mum was involved some how. She definitely knew about what happened to Sarah and seemed to drive fear in to the heart of the doctor who was in control. He, Sarah guessed, would never have gone against her mothers orders and captured one of her own offspring. He was too much of a coward.

"Computer, patch me through to Emily," She leaned her right hand upwards, searching for the correct command and pressed down once she had found it. "Audio only." The computer beeped, as it always had, in its willing confirmation. Minutes passed and eventually the silence of the front cabin was breached by a loud, guttural screech that made Sarah's head pound.

"Sis!" Emily shouted down the link. "Sorry, Jason is playing up," She apologized in the soft, emotional way she always had. Emily had been married for five years, Jason, her first son, was almost one and by the sounds of things was already becoming a handful. "So, what's with the sudden call?"

"Oh, no reason," Sarah lied, her voice cracked slightly, she opened her mouth to take a big gulp of air inwards but instead felt her body begin to shiver. "Loneliness, I suppose." She conceded. She could never lie to Emily so what was the point in trying.

"Dammit, Sarah," Emily cursed her younger sister. "You quit that damned Starfleet to spend time with your wife, to build a family and a home of your own and yet the pilot training job just wasn't exciting enough for you? You needed to accept an off world assignment to get your kicks?"

"It wasn't like that." Sarah said, her voice was sombre, she wasn't apologizing nor could she reveal her true reason. "This one was personal, a journey I needed to make." She finished, listening as Emily sighed disapprovingly and let the silence hang in the air for a moment longer. "I want the same as you, Emily, you know that. Family, a house, someone who loves me."

"You have all that Sarah!" Emily's voice boomed through the compartment as if she had leaned in to emphasis her point. "Jo is coming over later, she has been spending a lot of time taking Jason out and has really bonded with him." Sarah could hear how happy Emily was about it, but deep down knew she wanted Jason to bond with Sarah more than anyone. "She misses you sis'."

"I miss her too," Sarah sighed, had she come this far for herself or for some other twisted reason? She didn't know. "Don't tell her this," Sarah paused, the decision she had been toying with over the past few weeks had finally been made. "I'm coming home." Emily squealed as soon as the Sarah's voice translated on the other end of the communication, Sarah wasn't sure, but she thought she heard Emily jumping around. "It'll take me a couple of weeks to get things sorted, but I'm on my way." The sisters exchanged plans for a few more minutes and went through some news about the family. Sarah couldn't bring herself to talk about their Mum and so avoided the topic all together. She sat up, looked down at the screen and took a breath before programming her new destination. She wasn't returning to DS9. She was going home, to Earth.

The journey home was quicker than expected, Sarah had docked with Deep Space 9 within three days and handed her shuttle over to some contacts she had made, they took it as payment for her suit and kit and wished her on her way as she jumped a passenger flight out towards Earth. She wasn't in trouble with the fleet, she had left in good standing and felt good about her position, but she hated to be around Starfleet personnel, the memories she was regaining painted them in the worst light, she had made friends and those were the only people she knew she could trust from within the organization, otherwise she trusted no one. In the depths of the loneliest parts of space it was the only motto she could ever trust.

The ship was full of all sorts of people, Sarah relaxed on the common deck during the day, catching up on personal communications while drinking hot coffee, and at night she retired to her small, windowless room she had asked for in advance. Most people loved to look out and see the wonders of space that passed them by. Sarah had seen the worst the universe had to offer and she didn't like it. She preferred the gentle hum of the warp engines to the silence of space, it reminded her she was alive. A week passed and the pilot announced the journey was coming to a close. They were approaching Sol and would be departing shortly, he thanked his passengers for a good flight and wished everyone a pleasant journey, where ever they were heading.

Sarah jumped on a small outbound shuttle heading to Earth, its first stop was in San Francisco which left the young woman no time to think about what it was she was going to say, how she was going to react or what would happen. She was flying by the seat of her pants and she hated it, the gut wrench feeling tore at her stomach as if to keep her shuttle bound as the large door opened, allowing the sun to flood inwards and bring a warm, welcoming glow to all those departing. Sarah stepped off, butterflies scooping her stomach upwards and tilting it from side to side, her kit bag swung over her right shoulder and the sun splashed over her bare face, the heat warming her entire body as she moved forward, turned to thank the pilot and quickly chose the street she was going to walk down. She grabbed a coffee from a small roadside cafe and sipped from the cup as she circled the wide streets of the city, slowly approaching her house but yet still subconsciously avoiding it.

The steps at the bottom of her apartment complex seemed longer than she remembered, the steps seemed harder to overcome, her kit bag slipped off the shoulder and came down to her side, she took a final inward breath of the warm summer air and let it escape slowly as she scanned and slipped inwards to the cool, hazy walkway that lead upwards slightly and finally to a set of elevators. She pressed the button for her floor and held the bar as the gravity within the compartment changed, shooting her upwards to the place she had lived for the past few years - Not that she spent much time there since she had moved in.

"Jo..." Sarah called as she stepped in through the final door, her voice broke slightly as she nervously let the word roll off her tongue. She let the bag hit the floor and dragged it forward, leaning it against the sofa that had been moved since she had left. Sarah hadn't thought about it much, she had left six months ago without much of an explanation. Jo had said it was OK, she had helped Sarah pack and they had spent a long night together under the stars. But that was six months ago, six months of Jo bonding with her sister and nephew, spending the time with Sarah's family that she should have been. Sarah had made discoveries too, she had found secrets from her family that she knew she couldn't share, no one could ever know what she had discovered and yet, all she wanted to do was question her Mum, reveal the secrets and scream to the heavens. But, she couldn't.

"Sar’..." Jo was stood around the corner, her left hand opened slightly and the plate full of food slipped from it, smashing against the floor in slow motion as the two women's eyes met, time stood still, neither could move and yet neither could look away. Trapped, together in a moment, before, finally, one broke free. Sarah moved forward, her mouth gaped as her eyes welled and a flood of tears instantly streamed down her face. Jo still didn't move, she wrapped her arms upwards and almost lifted Sarah from her firm, established position. "Damn its good to have you back, Sarah."

A week passed, the married couple were reunited and everything seemed right with the world. The compression of time that had felt upon first sight of each other seemed to hold for the entire day, they sat and talked through the six months, Sarah found herself revealing far more than she had wanted to and Jo made a few confessions of her own. They cried together, the crying healed the wounds and they made love in their apartment, the moon light washing down over them as they lay embraced upon the marital bed. The rest of the night was spent in silence, both women tucked tight in to each other, warm naked bodies mixed to form one, unique figure. Sarah forgot about the pain inside her, she remembered why she had come home and knew she never wanted to leave again, even if, deep inside her, she knew the time would come one day.

They spent the following days together, wandering the city, hand in hand, like they had been away from each other for years rather than months. The talk ranged from the small, inconsequential things to larger debates about life and destiny. Each step brought a new conversation and each was followed by something else. Three days passed, apart from eating and sleeping, all the did was talk. Once the talking was done it was time to visit the family. Jo had arranged everything and Sarah spent the weekend out at her parents empty ranch with Jo, Emily, David - Emily’s husband - and Jason. They rode horses in to the evenings and enjoyed nights filled with alcohol and laughter.

Jo sensed the tension within Sarah, when her wife had alluded to problems Jo hadn’t pushed, hadn’t demanded answers or specifics, she had planned everything out to distract her, a weekend away with her sister and family, followed by visiting some of her old Starfleet colleagues who were on Earth and maybe a weeks vacation. Sarah had a job waiting for her but Jo knew she hated the small pilot training facility she had been running before her sudden departure. She needed space, excitement and combat. Jo knew this and she had known it on the day they had married, she accepted it and made her peace with the decision. Sarah seemed happy, for now at least, and Jo was content with that thought.

Sarah sat on the edge of the paddock where the horses roamed. She had been free and clear of Starfleet for thirteen months now and she was content. Leaving the fleet gave her enough time to clear her mind, take care of some urgent business and to now settle with her wife, perhaps they could even start a family. Sarah looked to the sky, the white streak of low orbiting flights above them were sparse but she could swear one was circling them, beckoning upwards, allowing her to leave. Could she really sacrifice bliss like this for the torture, the fighting and the constant upheaval of what Starfleet offered?
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Re: S02Ep01 Prophet

Postby The Writer » Wed Jun 22, 2011 11:20 am

LTCMDR Rick Barlow
Cerberus Project's Chief Engineer

ON:
LTCMDR Barlow was nose deep in the date field readout of small scale testing of the Cerberus cloak system, the holographic field before him detailing a smaller scale version of the ship and its systems. Barlow's fingers hovered over the image, spinning it around, then, with his index and middle finger, he double tapped his way into the cloak field control settings. Like clock work, initiating the cloak reactor sent a small energy current throughout the nano-weave of the ship, the holographic image detailing the millions upon millions of hexagonal power cells capturing and then, bending light, rendering the ship cloaked.

"Seems to work on small scale…," Rick began, his focus on the small scale testing being interrupted by a series of brash conversational pieces spouting forth from the collection of engineers circulating around the viewport of the Cerberus.

"What the hell is this…," David Festal stated turning towards the commotion. Seeing a Romulan addressing a few of Barlow's engineers and a couple of Mia's scientists.

LT Vreenak wrote:"I congratulate you and your team on being able to get the technology to work together as quickly as you have. There are, however, fundamental differences in our designs that have no doubt delayed implementation of certain pieces--such as the cloaking device."


"That must be Lieutenant Vreenak," Barlow mentioned as he stood up from leaning on the holographic display table, joining his assistant as the Romulan continued his abrupt conversation.

LT Vreenak wrote:"Nero, was not even worthy of being a Praetor. Had things been different he would have continued his life in obscurity, where he and his kind obviously belonged. Self-respecting Romulans did not recognize him as their leader. However they may not be as receptive to the Federation's part in stopping him."


"Bold," Festal exclaimed, "very bold."

"Easy Dave," Barlow began, "he's just giving everyone a heads up that he's not a Follower."

"I can't believe he's going to be the Chief Engineer of your boat."

Rick shook his head. "He's good at what he does Dave, the best, it makes sense to me to have him on the first ship of the Cerberus line. Its faults can easily be spotted, given a different perspective."

"Far as I'm concerned Chief," David began turning towards Barlow, "there is nil to nothing wrong with the Cerberus."

"Alright now your just brown nosing," Rick suggested as he moved away from the table and past David. The Chief turned around as he passed through the crowd, "but don't think I don't appreciate it," he shouted.

As he got closer, Rick started to part the crowd. "You must be Lieutenant Vreenak," the Chief expressed as he extended his hand, "a pleasure to finally meet you."

<<Tag Vreenak>>
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Re: S02Ep01 Prophet

Postby sail3695 » Wed Jun 22, 2011 2:21 pm

Lieutenant Marisol Marquez
Flight Maintenance Chief
11th Torpedo Squadron
NAS Tranquility

The primary machine shop of the 11th smelled of fresh coffee and a recent tack bonding job. Huddled in one corner, the 6 mechanics and their 8 assistants all nursed cups as they traded jokes and recollections of last night's game. There was a time when Marisol had been an energetic participant in this sort of banter. She'd even taken to watching some of the same programming on her holovision to enable her own conversation. But that was last year. Before things had started to go wrong.

Fearing a growing detachment with her husband Luis, she'd turned down every shipboard chief engineer's assignment, even the plum post aboard USS Enterprise-E, in order to be home at nights. When Andrea Morgan had offered her Repulse, with Colin as it's first officer, she'd wrestled with the decision, despite a polite indifference from Luis. It was only months later, when she came to understand that the die had been cast long before her return home from the ill fated Eternity. He had moved on. Now, they were going through the motions, more or less treading marital water, waiting for "the opportune moment."

"God morning, everyone," Marisol said, affixing a pleasant smile to her face as she stepped before the group. "I'll be brief. If you haven't read the morning report yet, and you know who you are..." she lifted her eyes, singling out a gangling mechanic whose face bore wide eyed innocence until an elbow poked his ribs," we figured out the harmonic and targeting issues. All autogyroes and inertial dampeners were retuned last night. The new tolerances are listed in the report. I want your eyes to check each one of our birds before they go skids up at 0800. LtCdr. Banks is telling his crews that we've fixed it. I don't want to see an open ticket because we weren't paying attention. Next item is a guidance software update..." She spoke, her eyes darting from her PADD to the faces of her team, keeping it straight, concise, attempting to bury herself in the work.

He hadn't come home last night. That wasn't so unusual in itself; Luis' overnight "business" trips had been on a steady increase over the past two years. Marisol had played the dutiful wife, supportive, reasonable, patient, for a time. As his behavior had become more reckless, she'd listened to the lies, swallowed them, boiling anger quelled by the image of her own personal indiscretion. After a time, she had learned to take in stride the scent of perfume, the occasional smudge of lipstick or makeup, in addition to the other lingering scents of a woman's presence to be found in his clothes. The marriage had become cordial without meaning, loveless, sexless, but unerringly polite. Until today. Luis hadn't come home last night. But this time, he hadn't even bothered to lie....

"Finally, we're due to replace all compression joints on the aft skids." A groan escaped into the air, followed by murmured conversation and one or two wry chuckles. "I know it's a pain in the butt, people, and I've told LtCdr Banks that his pilots are slapping the deck too hard. He's promised to talk to them about it...."

"Hell, Piggy's the worst one of 'em!" groused one mechanic, to laughter and nods of assent from the others. "How 'bout we pull padding from the seats, ma'am? A few sore asses might change things up..."

"Good idea, but no," Marquez grinned. "Plan to stay on base next Tuesday and Wednesday nights. I want to tun all the birds in 48 hours tops."

The room erupted into cries of mock agony and torment; one mechanic rose, a pained expression upon his face. "Aw, boss! My wife'll raise holy hell! Won't your husband mind you being away for two nights straight?"

"Believe me," Marisol replied, "he probably won't notice."
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Re: S02Ep01 Prophet

Postby The Writer » Wed Jun 22, 2011 4:38 pm

The room bled in white, highlights of the space beyond the series of viewport windows melted into the mix pallet, creating an orange hue that hummed upon the delicate automated medical instruments that lay in sections surrounding what once was a man, but now held nothing of the live he once had. In that delicate line between alive and dead, the man swayed, grasping for life but leaning towards death. But to the many people around him, those charged in the official capacity above him, his death was not an option..,

…, he had to live.

A collection of robotic arms, guided by doctors, by engineers; the most precise of hands, came alive to hover and move around the lifeless body of meat and bone. Systematically, incisions were made and microscopic tubes, hundreds, were inserted, turning the dark lifeless nanite infused blood cells of the man into living flowing entities of their former. To the rest was easy, the nanomachines began to course through the body, fixing, applying, repairing, as if the man was a machine; it was a process they could remember trying to accomplish a long time ago, a forgotten time where this man sacrificed himself for the greater good.

Brain wave activity, lightning in a bottle began firing memories, recollections and thoughts. Synapses blared, waking up the subconscious like a candle opening to flame; It was that flame that burned into the very core of a super computer light-years away.

The collection meld of cumulated data and algorithms began to spin, the calculations that made up a timeline began to breakdown, rework itself. This caused alarm in the half dozen men and women that sat in monitor of this master computer program they called, "The Legacy." Alarms began to flair in red as these men and women tapped their way through the monitoring equipment, trying to determine the new input of the new data. One man, finding no answer to this question immediately slapped a communication icon, quantum feeding a direct line of the system program monitor to another collection of men and women that collectively made up the panel of the most powerful clandestine organization known in the universe, "The Council."

In the dark recesses of shadow to which they lived and breathed, the Council looked at the transferred feed of their precious Legacy, the computer program that had kept them a step ahead of everything else; predicting the future at a capacity and speed that was unmeasured; now, by the display before them, that timeline, the predicted future, was beginning to rewrite itself. The collection of meshed information, of dates, of times, shattered into the blue dust field of cobalt and white, like stars being destroyed.

Numbers, letters, zeros and ones began to manipulate themselves in such a fashion that a new timeline began to formulate before the Council. The edge of the numeric sequence hinting further detail of the End, where time and humanity would conclude, an End that the Council had long since strived to circumvent, but never garnered enough details to do so directly.

Then, an explosion, as numbers and letters became images, moving pictures, comprised of light and color like a constellation of stars forming the figures and shapes they begged to describe. This astonished the Council, some gasping, as the Legacy expanded across the room in brilliant blue and white light, casting throughout the expanse, a map of the universe, the particle explosion stilling as each brilliant star and planet found their place.

As the pieces stilled, the miniature big bang concluding, the timeline finished rewriting itself, casting its new prophecy within the center of this miniature universe; and at the motion of one of the Council members, the Legacy zoomed before the Council, panning and centering on the new timeline. Like before, it foretold the end, the timeline disappearing into darkness that now was highlighted in the fury of pulsating red and green space. Before the end however, a series of coordinates and vague writings and codecs. Most would need to be deciphered, the volume of information that now was presented before the Council was staggering, but several words of the mass of new information could be translated by inspection:

"The Prophet will lead the way for the Eternity to bring the End."

Orders were called the Council requesting the Legacy to determine the origins of this new information. Through the chaos of scrambling to find the answers, the man whose life wained heavily towards death began to cross into life. His fingers twitched, muscles flexed as a brilliant blue glow radiated from a positronic spine along his back; the light shot so brilliantly and with such force that the automated surgery held itself in limbo, the robotic arms powering down systematically as the calming blue expanded. The doctors and engineers in the control room shot back from their seats as warning and errors displayed on their screens; their faces contorting into curiosity as they stood up to look over into the operating room.

The brilliant blue died down, pushing back towards it's origin of the metallic spine…,

…, and James Maxwell opened his eyes, pupils dilating.
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Re: S02Ep01 Prophet

Postby Aiustis » Wed Jun 22, 2011 5:09 pm

Bolarus IX
Bolian branch of Starfleet


"Ideally we shouldn't be experimenting like that."

Hmra smiled as she looked at one of her students. She was about to glance over at the head Professor, then stopped herself. This is all me. She told herself. "You need to retrain your mind." She told the student. "The ideal situation is rarely existent outside of the classroom. In fact, we spend far too much time examining something that's rarely the case."

The student nodded and went back to his simulation. Hmra looked around for any of the other seventy odd students who might have a question. There had been a lot of enthusiasm during registration for the course. So much so that they had had to create two additional courses.

"You're doing quite well. You were excellent as my replacement while I was on sabbatical." The vulcan professor, Velik said in a low voice as she made her way back over to him. There was a hint of smile in his tone. Hmra quite liked him. He'd taken her when he decided to take his course on a tour of various Starfleet schools as well as a handful of other schools. Hmra had been surprised by his choice since she was the only engineer that worked with him; she figured any of the others, all science officers like Velik, were guaranteed a chance at this.

"Well," Hmra said,"there are very few people with our sort of specialization." It was true. Much of the work done on statistical and situational outcomes was regarded as too speculative to put too much research into it, much less make a course dedicated to studying it.

Velik nodded. "You'd be one of the few that I would let take over my work. Especially after your presentation at the Vulcan Science Academy." He didn't have to say that the presentation they did there was one of the most important.

They took their lunch break with several other professors, discussing the joys and challenges of their work. Research folk were a different breed. Everyone here had made a career for themself behind a desk, working in some lab, but always on the safety and security of a planet. She looked out the window and found herself missing her time spent on the Eternity. She didn't even know why; it wasn't her most pleasant experience aboard a starship. But it had it's moments and when they were good, they were very good.

Another Caitian; he stood in the entrance of the dining hall, looking all...magnificent, well groom with his shiny sable coloring. Sable was such an unusual coloring that it attracted a lot of attention from Caitians. As opposed to her own very typical fawn color. Shassa, what was he doing here? She sighed and excused herself from Verik and the other professors. She promised him dinner later, but she assumed he'd be engrossed with his colleagus to come and see her. Shassa had been attending a medical conference for the last week. He was in medical research, making their social circles adjacent and even overlapping, so occasionally they bumped into each other, that was how she met him the first time, six years ago.

The two of them headed outside to walk around the campus. "I have another class to teach later." Hmra commented.

"I know your schedule."

He would. She pulled him by the arm dragging him along the pathway. "Come along Fluffy."

"Fluffy?"

"It's a human thing."

"Aaah."

She hadn't realized, until recently being around another Caitian, that she'd developed a harder edge than normal. Her parents had trouble appreciating it, but it didn't seem to be off putting to Shassa. "So when are you leaving?"

"The conference finishes up tomorrow and then it's back to the station hospital." He sighed, disappointedly. "But no worries, You said you'll be on Andoria for a while. It's not far at all."

"But that's months away." Hmra said. "We've got the course on Betazed, Tellar Prime and three other seminars between that." She couldn't believe it was already time for him to leave. They rarely got the chance to see each other.

He put an arm around her. "It won't be so bad." He purred, soothingly.

"Maybe I should have put in an application for that engineering position."

Shassa shook his head. "I wouldn't ask you to do that for me. You do research. Things are fine how they are."

She looked at him skeptically before deciding that he was being genuine. "I guess so."

Hmra groaned. "I have to get back to class. And I'm pretty sure you have to get back to your conference." She said.

He smiled at her, then rubbed a paw across her nose. "I'll walk you back."
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Re: S02Ep01 Prophet

Postby Sonja Kinnunen » Wed Jun 22, 2011 6:55 pm

Lieutenant Talla Vreenak
Chief Engineering Officer
USS Eternity-A

Vreenak regarded the man that soon approached and offered a hand. Taking it, the Romulan gave Barlow a firm handshake, but not painfully so. Two years wasn't much time to "assimilate," but the Lieutenant was very adaptive and had picked up on the custom of handshakes early on. Couldn't be limp it was a sign of weakness or disrespect, and it shouldn't break bones as they would be rude or construed as an attack. As a Romulan breaking the relatively light bones of a Human hand wasn't as difficult as it might sound; they were after all racial cousins to the Vulcans. Not something Romulans went out of their way to ever admit, but the Federation knew much more about the ancient, stagnant offshoot than they did the more proactive and thriving-- well, it had once been thriving over two years ago.

Pushing such things aside, Vreenak replied without emotional inflection at being approached in the middle of what had been a one-sided conversation so far. "Commander Barlow. I don't often have need for compliments, but I recognize your talent in designing and overseeing the construction of the Cerberus-class vessels." Rarely did Vreenak feel the need to "beat around the bush" or couch what he had to say in "colorful" language. There were few cases of him giving any compliment to Human personnel. This was one of those times. That was all. Sometimes people took from that something the Lieutenant, himself, did not intend, but he never apologized for what someone else perceived.

"I look forward to examining the ship in person. It is something new. Given our governments' past relations there has never been a need or opportunity for something of this magnitude before," with the closest being the inclusion of a Romulan cloaking device on board the U.S.S. Defiant for use on the front line between the Alpha Quadrant and the Dominion. One piece of technology, and not given on the basis of cooperation between their two people, but sheer utilitarian need to investigate a potential, common enemy. Ironic how later the Romulan government would then try befriending that same government hoping it would wipe the Federation for them. Such was how the Empire's government use to work; people rose and fell from power regularly all with their unique visions and agendas.

As he stood there, Vreenak met the Lieutenant Commander's eyes looking for any sign of reservation, doubt, or judgement. What quality of person was this Barlow? Personnel profiles were only so informative. Truthfully, Vreenak didn't trust Federation Counselors or Psychologists to get the truth of a person in their report. He suspected they were too kind hearted to uncover a man's, or woman's, secrets. Not that you had to interrogate a person to learn about trivial secrets, but a few hard hitting questions would reveal more about a person's character than asking how they felt.

Two years ago, Vreenak had surprising encounters with a few able minded Federation officers that understood the tactics. Sadly, they didn't fully appreciate a Romulan's resolve. Having grown up in the Empire, Vreenak didn't spill secrets about himself or other Romulans because a Federation officer had some choice words. There had been a time or two, however, they'd exchanged physical blows. Not their finest moments, but at the time it'd certainly helped with some of the frustration and rage he'd felt. One did not lose their planet--their home--and shrug it off as you might a mosquito bite. To say nothing of the state of the Empire itself.

<<Tag Barlow>>
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Re: S02Ep01 Prophet

Postby sail3695 » Thu Jun 23, 2011 12:04 am

Commander Colin Byrne
First Officer, USS Repulse

"Will he live, doctor?" Lt. Maya Okimbo regarded Colin with a smile that hinted of conspiracies gone awry.

"That would be entirely up to him," Dr. Armitage said, an eyebrow raised as she regarded her patient. Colin lay upon the biobed, stripped to the waist, a respirator mask covering his face as the doctor waved a medical scanner above his chest.
"Very good," she nodded. "The nanites have removed the last ash particulate from your system. Another moment, and you'll be rid of them, sir. Breathe deeply, now."

He followed instructions, taking deep breaths as Dr. Armitage continued her scans. Colin glanced toward the next bed, upon which Dr. Klaus Meyer was positioned. His fractured leg had been mended already, and now, he lay snoring in a breather of his own. Emma, his wife, a handsome woman whose grey hair was tied into a single long braid, clutched her husband's hand. Sensing his gaze, she met Colin's eyes, and smiled her gratitude. Colin nodded his acknowledgement, before feeling the tug of the mask being removed.

"Commander Byrne," Dr. Emily Armitage said, "you are cleared to return to duty. It's not lost upon me that today is Thursday, the day of your weekly football match in the holodeck. As your doctor, I shall remind you that a 47 year old man has no business attempting to keep goal against players half his age. One more football related injury, sir.....look at me now....one more, and I shall impress upon the captain your need to avoid the pitch. Do I make myself clear?"

"I'll be careful," Byrne muttered.

"And I shall rejoice if that proves true," Armitage retorted as she handed over the clean shirt and uniform tunic. "Is tomorrow night still agreeable? Tessa has practiced every day; she's so excited to play the new piece with you."

"Absolutely," Colin nodded to the doctor. "I'll have supper on at 1900, music after. See you then, unless I'm a football cripple," he added with a wry smile as he hopped from the bed. Turning toward Lt. Okimbo, Colin said, "so, what's our status?"

"All of the colonists were rescued," Okimbo reported as they left Sickbay together. "The newly created moon, "Emma," I've heard it's going to be named, is cooling, and has taken an elliptical orbit around Bamarr. Our science department is in seventh heaven right now."

For a moment, she flashed in his memory. Auburn hair, green eyes, and a keen intellect. "She would've loved this," Colin thought, before the darker side to Amelia's memory asserted itself. Brushing it from the forefront of his mind, Colin joined Maya in the turbolift. "Bridge. So, do continue."

"Admiralty maintained our orders and mission status," she responded. "We're en route for Earth, ETA three days. All shuttles returned intact. The worker bee you flew isn't much more then a cinder. Chief Dempsey wrote it off. Oh yes, the captain is, um, a little put out with us right now."

"Is she?" Byrne cast a sidelong glance toward Okimbo, who grinned in response.

"Put out with me, sir," Maya chuckled. "Red faced and pounding her desk over you."

"That sounds like fun," Colin nodded with a slight smile. "The ready room for me?"

"Those are my orders," the young Kenyan grinned as the turbolift door opened, revealing the spacious bridge of the USS Repulse. Built as a Galaxy-B class vessel, many of the ship's appointments were identical to those of her predecessors. Colin strode onto the bridge, the one place he'd ever felt completely at home wile in StarFleet. Many years ago, Repulse had been his command. As a young captain, he'd loved this ship as any woman in his life. During the years he spent away from her, he'd dreamed about the day he might set foot upon her bridge once more. Nearly two years ago, that dream had become reality, when his longtime friend and former First Officer Andrea Morgan had risen in rank to Captain. She'd been offered Repulse, and upon her asking, Colin had found himself only too happy to serve as her First Officer. As a Commander who now had a fresh cloud of questions swirling about him, due the the inexplicable revisions of all records pertaining to himself and the former USS Eternity, a happy return to Repulse and the company of good friends should have proven the perfect tonic for a man who felt naught but loss and injury. Strangely, it had not. With a nod to Okimbo as she took her station at Ops, Colin turned, and sounded the ready room chime.

"Come in."

Captain Andrea Morgan was seated at her desk, eyes cast downward as she studied her PADD. At 41, her face had maintained much of the youthful humour he'd known during her time as his "number one." Andrea ran the ship with a light touch, relying upon the professional training of her officers and crew to continue the efficient functioning of the ship while enjoying an easy sense of familiarity. As he studied that face, partially obscured by the dark auburn hair which framed it, Colin could detect none of her trademark wit.

"Reporting as ordered," Colin said.

"Sit."

I'm quite looking forward to this, his inner darkness said as Colin took his seat. After a period of several minutes, Captain Morgan raised her eyes, fixing her glare upon Colin.

"Interesting file you've been building, Number One."

"If this is about the rescue, I'm..."

"Oh, that's part of it," Andrea said as she allowed the PADD to land upon her desktop with an audible thwack. "I'd like you to tell me just what the hell is going on, Colin."

"Um...I saved a man's life?"

"Don't play with me," she warned, a steely hardness coming to her brown eyes. "This is the latest in a string of incidents. And I'll be honest. Any one of these isn't enough to so much as raise an eyebrow. Until today. Until I started piecing this all together."

"Andrea, I apologize for..."

"That would be "captain," commander," she cut him off. "You left the bridge to a junior officer during a dangerous rescue without so much as saying "boo" to me about it. That same junior officer commanded the ship through a near collision with that new moon out there in order to rescue the rescuer. If you're fishing for a medal, understand that in my book, Lt. Okimbo is the only one who deserves it."

"I'm not looking for any damned medal..."

"Then what the hell? Colin? You want to tell me what's eating you? You know," she said, "when we docked at that new starbase, 354, and I learned that my First Officer had gotten into a fight with not one, but two very large,very drunk Fen Domar, I knew that something wasn't quite right."

"They cornered me," Colin shrugged.

"Unh unh unh!" Morgan cautioned. "I'm talking. You're listening. I chalked part of it up to you not liking being back around the Ildius system. I made numerous excuses to myself. Then, I listened to the voice log from the bar. Though what you did wouldn't stand up to the legal definition of "antagonizing," you did manage to walk right up to the line. And you'd managed to knock back a healthy amount of synthohol that day yourself. Speaking of which," the captain continued, "you've got quite a tab running in ten forward."

"Only on match days," Colin protested.

"Judging by this, you're supporting about 10 teams," Andrea growled. "Speaking of teams, I hear that it's pretty rare for a goal keeper to get one red card in a season, but you've got four. I don't know "soccer," she said, "but I am taking a leap and guessing that this might correspond to the number of injuries that you've presented in Sickbay. Then, there are crew reports."

"Oh?" Colin asked with feigned concern.

"There's an awful lot of "short tempered," among individual comments. Other chart toppers include "brusque," "harsh," "gruff," "reckless," "thrill seeking," and my personal favorite, "sometimes a right bastard." In fact, the only glowing comments I get about you are from Lt. Milner. He's been raving about your fitness, and how your hand to hand fighting and small weapons skills are dramatically improved. Planning to transfer to the Corps, Colin?"

"No," Byrne answered curtly. "I just thought it might be time to brush up."

And to be ready for the next round of operatives they send

She stared at him for a moment, before her shoulders slumped. "Colin, is this some kind of midlife crisis? Other men your age buy nice toys and chase younger women. From what I hear, as close as you come to that behavior is your nightly 3 mile run with Lt. Okimbo. When I consider the alternatives, I come up with self destructive behavior. What is going on?"

"You know that I'm not at liberty to discuss it," Colin replied, folding his arms.

"Yes, I know. Most of the damned Eternity file is off limits. Okimbo is keeping quiet as well." She rubbed two fingers along the bridge of her nose, and closed her eyes. "Colin, we'll be on Earth in three days. I want you to sit out the next mission. Take some leave."

"Why?" Byrne asked as he sat up in the chair.

"Have you bothered to read the dossier, Number One?" Morgan regarded him with eyes suddenly made tired.

"Skimmed it," he said. "Captain, it's a diplomatic milk run. We're ferrying an under secretary, a Mrs. Edu, I think the name is, to trade negotiations. with the First Officer to act as her adjutant. It couldn't be simpler..."

"Right," Andrea nodded. "I want to give Lt. Okimbo a shot at the First Officer's position on this one."

"She could handle the ship," Colin responded, "but I'm not certain of her negotiating or assist skills. I should take this."

"You should take a break," Morgan said, her voice firm. "Under Secretary Edu....Antonia Edu....was more than a little concerned about your participation."

"Antonia?" Colin asked. "I'd no idea she'd gotten married. Hmm."

"Well, I'm glad to see that you don't appear too bothered by the fact," Andrea replied. "Now, let me spell it out, Colin. You are still my choice for First Officer of this ship. When you're on your game, you're great. I'm giving you two orders. Effective the moment we reach Earth orbit, you are on leave for the duration of our next mission. Upon your return, you will begin regular sessions with our new counselor. Dr. Armitage has co signed that order. Do you understand?"

"You know that I am not allowed to divulge...." he began angrily, until she cut him off with the sharp lift of her hand.

"I'm way ahead of you, commander," Captain Morgan proclaimed. "This counselor is privy to all of those little details, because she was there, o Eternity's bridge. By the time you return, Lt. jg Jennifer Bree should have hung her shingle. She'll be waiting. Now, you're dismissed. Take the con, and try not to do anything life threatening."

"Aye, captain." Stiffly, he rose from his chair, and exited the ready room. Anger welled in Colin as he stalked onto the bridge. before taking his seat in the command chair. "Reckless," he growled to himself. "You'd think I'm harbouring a deathwish..."

Forgive me for saying, the darkness within him spoke, but I thought that was exactly what we were about.
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Re: S02Ep01 Prophet

Postby FSF Bourne » Thu Jun 23, 2011 7:07 am

Sarah and Jo Jamieson
San Francisco, Earth

Six Months Ago

“And just forget all I learnt while away?” Sarah spat, head spinning swiftly on a pivot as she turned back to face Jo. “I don’t think I can do that, Jo.” She held her head high, unwavering in her determination.

“No.” Jo interjected quickly. “You never forget!” Her voice hoarse, a low growl compared to her normal, soft spoken words. “You move on, push forward and use the knowledge to burn a fire inside you.” Jo waved a hand out, quickly dropping it before striding to her left, wiping the anger filled tears that streaked down her face, and looked through the open window of their San Francisco based apartment. The afternoon sun breaking through heavy cloud’s with a determination much like her wife’s. “What is it you want me to say, Sarah? You want to support you, want me to sit beside you as you go against your mother and god knows what else?”

“I want you to be my wife!” Sarah stood from her chair, the only piece of furniture she truly enjoyed within the apartment. “I want you to tell me to burn the ground where she stands, pull down her empire of deceit a brick at a time and put an end to the hurt and pain that woman has caused for so many people!” Sarah kicked at the table, nudging the papers they had gathered since her return six months ago. Her mothers influence, her conspiracy, stretched further than they could have ever imagined.

“Vengeance?” Jo roared. “You want me to support a quest for vengeance, for blood and glory?” Her head was shaking, a frown appeared across her lips as she fought back tears. “You want blood, right? Want to give some pain out instead of take it all the time? Need to feel the release, need to push back a little?”

“You’re damn right I need that! I’ve spent years getting kicked around because of her.” Sarah had tears forming at the side of her eyes. “What if I do want to push back a little, show them all what I’m made of and what I can do? Tear her apart like she has done to me my entire life!”

“Then what makes you any better?” Jo asked, her voice softening slightly with a small crackle. “Your mother wasn’t always stood in darkness, I’m sure, and I’m also certain she made the same false promises to herself back then too. Just this once and I’ll go this far then I’ll stop.” Jo sighed aloud, lowering her head. “You’re heading down a dark path I cannot follow because I can’t lose you, and I love you too much to watch you destroy yourself over that sick mother of yours.” Jo paused, looking deep in to Sarah’s eyes. “I won’t watch you become that.”

“Dammit!” Sarah flung everything from the table, stepped back and finally threw the table to the ground. Seconds passed in silence, all Sarah could here was a distant sob that she finally realised was escaping her soft pink lips. Her legs buckled and she collapsed on to her knees, her hands in her lap, eyes wet and plump, raging red skin surrounded her face from anger and upset. “I just want it to end.” She looked up, eyes begging for mercy. “I don’t know how to do that.”

Jo lowered herself to the floor in the same position across the room. “I know,” her voice solemn, determined in its acceptance. “We end it together.” She stated, pushing her legs out and crawling gently to Sarah, sobs from both women slowly started to fill the air. “We end it on our terms, not hers. Right?” Jo could feel the tension ease, the argument - All two hours of it - was taking its tole on both women but finally she could see an end and she was damn sure going to take it.

Sarah, now resigned to the fact she was to follow advice rather than jump in head first, nodded slowly, the sun now beating through the window caused her to squeeze her eyes closed slightly, biting at the dry flesh of her lip, leaning in to Jo’s welcoming arms.

“First things first,” Jo said, looking around at the disarray in the apartment. “We get cleaned up and we get you out of that damned civilian contractor work you’ve been doing.”

“What?” Sarah silenced a sob as she looked up, confused.

“I know you’re not happy there, you know it too, you’ve just kept it from me because I want you home.” Jo conceded, knowing what her words meant for both their lives. “You’re not going to be happy unless you’re out there, protecting the Federation from all the wrongs that lay ahead.”

“But, the Eternity is gone, her crew scattered...” Sarah said was a soft sadness. Friends lost in battle hurt, but friends lost through time and distance tugged at her like the pluck of a bow.

“There are other ships,” Jo said, standing as she spoke. “Other commands and other people out there.” Jo nodded as she walked Sarah back and propped her on the only stool left standing within the apartment. “Lets get the ball rolling, yeah? And then we’ll go from there...”
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Re: S02Ep01 Prophet

Postby The Writer » Thu Jun 23, 2011 12:05 pm

LTCMDR Rick Barlow
Cerberus Project's Chief Engineer

OFF:
The cloak test...,

ON:
LT Vreenak wrote:"I look forward to examining the ship in person. It is something new. Given our governments' past relations there has never been a need or opportunity for something of this magnitude before,"


To this Lieutenant Commander Rick Barlow cracked a grin. In some sort of internal "Romulan" way, Red could hear the doubt pinging in the officer's voice.

"She's small," he followed, "but the Cerberus does pack quite a punch," as he finished, he turned to look at the handiwork of the ship that sat still in its hold. He turned to look back at Lieutenant Vreenak. "We were about to run the full scale test on the ship's cloak systems. I would love it if you stayed with my crew to monitor the process and I would further appreciate any feedback you might have afterwards."

<<Tag Vreenak>>

The Chief Project Engineer moved over towards the MSD holographic view of the ship.

"Alright everyone," he shouted as he moved towards his station, "we're going to run the cloak test, full scale. You know your places." He tapped his com-badge, signaling into the science ring of the docking bay. "Mia," he began as he placed his hands on the holographic controls before him, panning the isometric display of the Cerberus hologram so that the view pushed into the ship's cloak reactor room, the monitor status of the core lighting up with percentages and other status readouts, "you ready to test the cloak on your end?"

<<Tag Moore>>

"All stations prepare for cloak initialization," Rick's voice echoed over the loud speaker throughout the bay as all of the Engineering and Science Officers rushed over to consoles and monitoring equipment, screens and displays shocking to life, holographic isometrics of the ship being tossed around like confetti. The Chief looked down at the console before him, the status lights blinking to green on all stations around him, everyone set to monitor the full scale test.

"Initialization in three seconds…., two…, one…., cloak core engaged."

The display of the Cerberus flared in white, the icon of the cloak reactor going hot, feeding energy into the nano-weave of the hull. A loud cascade of sound like rushing water from a fall began to immanent across the silence of the docking bay as systematically the hexagonal nodes trapped the energy of the quantum energy; capturing and bending the visible and non-visible spectrum waves around the ship in a brilliance of blue light that washed over the ship. As this wave of brilliance died out the ship was no longer visible, the docking clamps and gangways leading to the ship hovered, connected to nothing.

"Alright everyone," Barlow began as he moved the holograph of the ship to zoom, panning the view back into isometric. As he placed his hand on the display, a series of spheres formed around his fingers. To that, the Chief turned his hand, moving the display, the nano-weave hex count sighting as millions upon millions of green status light's flared in a series of cascading identifying marks, the tags of each nano-weave cell. "…, the cells seem to be holding the energy. Turning off cloak core in three…, two…, one…., mark."

Again Barlow tapped the cloak core function, turning the reactor off. The MSD readout of energy output dropped as the core was taken offline; and, as Red looked back up at the ship, not seeing it but knowing full well that it was still in its berth, he knew that the test was a success. "Seems to be holding, energy output has went down significantly…, the nano-weave seems to be doing its thing."

Rick hopped down from his station, looking at the bright eyes and smiles of each officer before moving over to David who held the Tactical Station remote controls.

"Activate the ship's shields."

"Red," David Festal began pointing at the status readout of the ship's defensive systems. "Shields are already engaged."

Red saw where Dave was pointing, seeing the red dots surrounding the ship and the solid blue line following on the next level outside of those said red dots. The Chief smiled, slapping his hands together before placing them on Festal's shoulders. "You damn right they are," he stated shaking the officer momentarily before turning around towards the rest of his team. Again, Red hopped up on his station. "I'd call that a successful test everyone," a series of shouts and hollers rang throughout the bay before the Chief held up his hands, trying desperately to simmer the happy workers down a peg. "Mia I want you to keep watch over the nano-weave, make sure the energy still holds in the cells. We're moving to weapons test."

<<Tag Moore>>

"Stationary weapon turrets coming online Red," Lieutenant Martin called from behind her console, obviously anxious to fire on the ship's shields, "awaiting orders."

"Easy Ms. Martin," Rick exclaimed, "start on a low level yield then raise it 20 percent and continue testing until Dave tells you to stop. Commence when ready."

"Aye sir," her voice pulled on the overhead channels, "preparing to fire stationary batteries. All workers clear the gangway. I repeat, stationary batteries are going hot, clear surrounding area."

Time played between her call to clear before Lieutenant Martin activated the bay rings' blast shields, a shock of energy covered the viewports, the view distorting momentarily before stilling. "Commencing test."

The batteries shelled out phaser fire and torpedo yields in a increased variance of 20 percent at each volley. The Cerberus's shields combated the barrage in a shockwave of blue, the detonation and delivery was loud but due to the detach sound dampeners, nether the engineering and science crews in the lower docking bay nor the rest of Starbase 354 were aware of the test taking place.

The test ended, Lieutenant Martin powering down the stationary turret weapons. Rick looked over to David, his eyebrows moving up and his face contorting to a questionary glance. Dave shook his head, a smile splashing across his face. "Shields holding Red…,"

"De-cloaking ship," the Chief called, "standby."

At the tap of the command, the millions of nano-weave cells released the stored quantum energy, again causing the ship to cascade in a brilliant blue as sequential from the front to back, the ship reappeared; not a scratch or a blemish seen on it's hull. "Still sexy," Red called over the speakers, "Mia how are you on your end?"

<<Tag Moore>>

"Dave," Barlow began as Mia finished, "I believe Mr. Sorveck will be satisfied with our results," the Chief's voice seemed to drop at the very mention of the man's name, "make sure he gets the data."

Festal nodded and Rick hopped down. "Lieutenant, I could go for a bite to eat, care to join me in the lounge?"

<<Tag Vreenak>>
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Re: S02Ep01 Prophet

Postby FSF Bourne » Fri Jun 24, 2011 9:50 am

Lieutenant Sarah Jamieson
Flight Instructor, Starfleet Academy

Present Day

Sarah sat behind her desk, the silence that filled the room eased her mind as the constant thud reverberated around the smaller office. Thud, thud, thud. The tennis ball in her right hand hammered against the opposite wall with a slick repetition. She bounced it against the floor, watched for it to hit the wall and then caught it. On occasion she would challenge herself, use her off hand or even try bouncing it from two walls. The chime shocked her out of the daze she was in, her eyes flicking away from the ball long enough for her to miss her catch and send the ball trickling off below the table.

“Dammit,” Sarah cursed. “157 catches and the stupid bell ruins it.” She couldn’t help but smile as she swivelled her chair to face the door and called to who ever was waiting.

“Lieutenant Jamieson?” The shy man shuffled in to the room, his eyes not meeting hers as he locked up and looked forward. His voice was soft, young. Sarah watched as he ground his teeth with a closed mouth and stood to meet his eyes. “You asked to see me?”

“Yes,” She swiped the data pad off the table and scrolled down to his file. “Cadet Daniels,” Sarah said. “Three botched clearances prior to take off, four missed landings and a dangerously close call while on combat exercises.” She shook her head slowly as she allowed herself to lean back against the single desk in the room. “Take a seat and why don’t we start with why you’re here in this program?”

Sarah had been accepeted back in to Starfleet without much incident, although her file - Now mostly classified thanks to the Eternity - left little in her favour. Her interviews went well and readmission was fast, no one seemed to trust her motives for return and when she refused to answer more personal questions the decision to hide her away was an easy one. Sarah’s skills as a pilot shone through, she had been granted a junior teaching position at Starfleet Academy’s flight school and ran small classes, teaching basic flight and combat maneuvers. Sarah hated the small couped up office at first, but came to enjoy the work. Helping the young wasn’t a path she ever considered and this forced opportunity had opened her mind to the possibility of a different career path. In her mind, at least, it was obvious people didn’t want the Eternity crew near each other so sticking her in a back room ensured little to no contact.

Daniels had gone through his story, his mother was a medic and his father a science officer. He told Sarah how they hated the idea of their son becoming a Helm officer and had always pushed him towards Engineering. To appease them, Daniels was taking both Engineering and Flight Operations as a major.

“And how are you doing in your Engineering classes?” Sarah asked, cutting off before Daniels could make the tearful plea he had been building up too.

“Not well, Ma’am,” Daniels’ head was tucked, his eyes were red and tired, threatening to explode with tears at a seconds notice. “I don’t want to wash out, I want to be a pilot!” He pleaded.

“Well, unfortunately,” Sarah sucked in her cheek momentarily, deep in thought. “You’re going to have to choose. Right now your flight privileges have been revoked until I see some improvement. You’ve been flying with little sleep and no energy which is leading to you making silly, dangerous mistakes that will end up with someone getting killed - Probably not you, either.” Sarah had seen it many times. Aircraft of any kind were designed to keep the pilot alive above all others. Pilots make mistakes and are usually the only ones to walk away unscathed. “Do you want someone elses death on your conscience?” She asked, looking away momentarily. “I’ve sure got enough on mine.” She sighed momentarily, before snapping herself back in to the room.

“No,” Daniels’ voice was sombre, his eyes lower than when he entered. “But I still want to be a pilot.” He looked up and met Sarah’s eye line.

“I tell you what, Daniels,” Sarah slipped the data pad on to the table and wet her lips with her tongue. “Your mother is a junior medic on the USS Repulse, correct?” He nodded. “I’ll get in contact with her and let us see if we can find a way for you to become the pilot you want to be, OK?” Exstatic, Daniels leapt up and quickly thanked Sarah, they made plans for a further meeting once she had discussed the boys potential with his parents.

“The USS Repulse,” Sarah mused in the loneliness of her office once Daniels had left. “Colin,” His name brought a smile to her face, the memories of him guiding her back on the Eternity filled her mind, before the ship was lost and her life seemed to fall to pieces. Her mind wandered gently through the memories, the crew she had last served with and, what she now considered, was her fledgeling era with Starfleet.

Sarah tugged at her uniform gently, the grey sleeve fighting back as she leant over the computer, hitting the search bar and typing in her old Executive Officer’s name. She didn’t know what she would find, didn’t know what to expect, either, but watched as the pages filled with a careers worth of information.
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Re: S02Ep01 Prophet

Postby JohnEtti » Fri Jun 24, 2011 11:50 am

RIS S’Lorana
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Aerv was sitting in on the bridge of the RIS S’Lorana to the left of the commanding officer observing the crew as they went about their business. Their mission was a simple escort of one of the newly appointed Romulan Ambassador to his assignment at the Hyralan Sector. Since the Follower uprising it has become imperative to maintain the border worlds under Empire control to keep the appearance of strength. Aerv’s attention was brought out of his thoughts as his name was called on the bridge.

“Captain Tokath, there is a priority 1 message coming in for you. Unable to identify the source.”

Aerv stood up and looked back to the Lt, “Transfer it to the Commanders ready room. I will take it there.” He began to make his way toward the office, before turning around to face the captain of the vessel, “Unless, you have a problem with that Commander?” Aerv knew no one on this ship had any warm feelings the Tal Shiar or their operatives. He was happy about that, he wasn’t in his career to make friends, he was here to find information and ensure there were no traitors in the midst. Friends complicate that.
He could see the dislike in the Commanders eyes, but any words spoken again Aerv can easily be turned to see the he never gets a command post again. “Not at all Captain, my office is yours.” Turning back around he enters the office and pulls a small device out of his pocket. Once he sits down he activated the device and waits for the light to turn from red to green. Satisfied he the communication would not be overheard by any means he enters his credentials into the consol as a familiar Romulan face appears on the screen.

“Room is secured. We will not be overheard Colonel Gerak.”

“Good Captain. Your assignment onboard the RIS S’Lorana is finished. We need someone of your expertise and familiarity with Starfleet on another mission. You are to head to Ildius System as maximum speed. This is Federation Territory; remain under cloak at all times. You are to meet with a Federation shuttle outside of the 7th planet. After transporting aboard you will briefing on the rest of your assignment. This order overrides any current mission the S’Lorana may be on. Gerak Out.”

Aerv sat back in the chair processing his new orders. Finally he was getting out of the S’Lorana, after 4 years he was wondering if he would ever get reassigned, but back to Federation space? This is odd, especially for the Tal Shiar to be able to hijack a federation shuttle so close to the Metar Colony. Shaking off the wonder he stood up and deactivated the his dampening device sliding it back into his pocket and headed out to the bridge. “Helm plot course to the Ildius System maximum warp. Tactical bring the cloaking device online.” He crossed the bridge taking his seat completely ignoring the Commander look as Aerv took charge of his bridge. “Engage.”
Image Jonathan Etti - Security Officer - Aten Prime Colony - Fringe Space
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