Date: Sun, 16 Nov 2003 14:04:39 -0500 (EST) Subject: Ashes of the Galaxy From: To: ASHES OF THE GALAXY CHAPTER 1 The U.S.S. Timothy Jones floated through space. Inside, Captain Robert Anderson smiled. The glorious Galaxy class ship was named after the greatest Federation leader. President Jones had introduced new warp cores and holodecks (although some ridiculous "engineers" complained about "safety concerns), removed militarist uniforms and so called phaser "pistols" and "rifles" replacing them with far more peaceful designs. What does anyone need a stock or grip or trigger guard for anyway? He also thought up bringing civilians onboard starships, especially children. Finally, Jones sent millions of insane criminals, most raving about the laws "destroying freedom" to New Zealand, where they could be helped. After all, didn't Jones teach political dissent could only weaken the state? Anderson's thoughts were interrupted when the Jones shook violently. He looked at the viewscreen to see an asteroid in front of them. "Sorry sir," Lt. Azeron, the helmsman, said. "The damn liberal traitors must have sabotaged this console. "Or the godless atheists," Weapons Officer Lt. Commander E. Grey commented. "The T-1000 could have piloted better," argued Ensign Omega-13. "Lord and Imperator Anderson!" cried Commander Kazeite, "I'm detecting a wormhole. Something's emerging! In a BRIGHT FLASH, an Imperator class Star Destroyer appeared on the screen. "It's a atheist warship come to wipe out God's chosen!" cried E. Grey. "We must strike it down and send them to the Lake of Fire." "Actually, it's a Warsie ship, though many of them are godless," Anderson corrected. "Warsies?" asked Azeron. "Fools," replied Anderson. "They use nefarious things like...science and logic." The entire crew gasped. Those were the two most dangerous ideas in the galaxy. President Jones has wisely banned them decades ago. How could a society survive with them? "Anyway," Anderson continued, "it MUST be destroyed. All phasers, begin firing, full power! Those Warsies will soon face our power!" Phaser after phaser lashed out at the ISD, doing absolutely nothing. "Uh, the blasphemous triangle remains sir," Grey said. "Our phasers are not effecting the infidels at all. "Uh, they must have used an inverse particle field to re-route tachyeon particles...or something. But that won't save them. PHOTON TORPEDOES!" cried Anderson. "Uh, Emperor of Space-Time," Kazeite whispered. "You used all the torpedoes against that nebula a few days ago." "I don't care what the sensors said, THERE WAS A ROMULAN WARBIRD IN THERE! Anyway, Mr. Grey, God is not with you today. You're a useless fucker who can't even shoot. Transfer weapons control to me." As Grey prayed to Jesus for forgiveness, Anderson rapidly tapped on a console. Phasers again fired, though missed the ISD completely. "HA! You missed! The T-1000 however has 100% perfect accuracy!" shouted Omega-13, now wanking off fully to the Liquid Metal Terminator, burning out the eyes of anyone who looked at him. "I DID NOT MISS" screamed Anderson. "It's, uh, a sensor illusion. They're trying to cover up the massive damage we've caused. Yeah, that's it." "Emperor of the Galaxy, they are hailing us" reported Kazeite. "See?" Anderson said. "Those fuckers are going to surrender. No one can match my combat skills. How dare you lackeys doubt me. Put them on screen" A very pissed off man's image filled the screen and he shouted, "YOU BASTARDS! You scratched our paint job! Prepare to die" He turned his head to speak to someone off screen and said, "all turbolasers, open fire!" Anderson just laughed. "Don't worry, they're firing LASERS. Why, they won't even penetrate our navigational- " The Timothy Jones was struck by a single LTL, and exploded in a giant...er, explosion. On board the Star Destroyer Killing Stuff Captain Sir Nitram was pissed. "That paint job will cost thousands of credits to replace! Darth Wong will kill me! Hmm...I need something to please him. Maybe a few conquered star systems. I wonder where that ship came from. Lt., begin launching probe droids..." CHAPTER 2 Spacedock. A bright shining object in Earth's sky. For over 100 years, the best starships in Starfleet has stayed and been repaired in it's massive bays. Approaching the massive station inspired awe in many people. Not that Commander Straha gave a fuck about that. He'd spent 2 fucking hours in a piece of shit shuttle, with only a pilot whose parents were so stupid they didn't give him a name. As the shuttle, which was just a box with 2 engines literally slapped onto the side, entered Spacedock, he was even more pissed off by what he saw. He was supposed to report to the U.S.S. Enterprise to replace that pussy Riker. But there were so many fucking ships Goddamnit! "Hey, pilot guy, which one's the Enterprise?" Straha asked. "Uh, well sir I'm not sure," the pilot responded. "I mean, there's a Sovereign over there but it might not be the Enter-" Straha cut him off. "Please, how many Sovereigns can there be? They're like 700 meters long! Start mass- producing them and you'd run out of room in Spacedock! Set course NOW!" The tiny shuttle flew towards the ship's shuttlebay, and the pilot made a suggestion. "Uh, sir, perhaps you should ask them to open the shuttlebay doors sir." "Uh, I was just going to do that," responded Straha. He flicked on the communications system. "Yo, Enterprise, Commander Straha is here! Open your shuttle bay doors and let me in!" "What the fuck did you just say?" an angry voice replied. "I'm the new XO of the Enterprise, Commander Straha, taking over from that bitch Riker. And since you're can't be Picard, you're my subordinate. Open the Enterprise's shuttlebay doors or you'll be scrubbing plasma manifolds for a week, fucker." The voice sounded even angrier. "Hey, Commander Stupid? This Captain Frank of the Starship TITANIC, not the fucking [/i]Enterprise.[/i] Are you so fucking stupid you didn't know there's a lot of Sovereigns? Go away asshole!" A phaser beam lanced out from the Titanic into the shuttle. "Hey!" yelled Straha. "You can't do that to another Starfleet ship!" Another phaser beam was fired. "Watch me." The pilot leaned over and whispered into Straha's ear, "Uh sir, that last hit took out our deflector shields and caused serious damage. Another hit will destroy us. I recommend not annoying this Captain Frank anymore." "Uh, good idea. Captain Frank, Commander Straha here. Turns out it was all my pilot's fault and got the ships confused. Stupid moron didn't know there was more then one Sovereign class here! So, um, we'll be leaving now." Straha switched off the comm, and turned to the pilot. "This is all your fault." "Me?" the pilot said. "It's you who-" "Tell me, are people going to believe a nameless shuttle pilot, or the soon to be Second in Command of the flagship of Starfleet? Even you can figure that out. Now get us out of here before Captain Asshole decides to shoot at us again." Sighing, the pilot began working the controls to move the shuttle away from the Titanic, but was interrupted by a load beep. He tried to set a course again, with the same results. "Um sir, that last hit knocked out helm control. We can't move at all, except for our forward inertia, which is sending us towards the Titanic. We have to dock, or we'll hit them!" "Fuck," swore Straha. He sighed and flicked on the comm. "Uh, Captain Frank? It appears your, um, completely understandable defensive reaction to my stupid pilot may have cause some slight helm damage to our shuttle. As such, I must request permission to land in your shuttle bay until we can make repairs." He heard Captain Frank's laughter. "Yeah, sure I'll let you land. Do you I'm an idiot. 'Slight helm damage?' BULLSHIT. You're trying to take over my ship! You're lucky I don't blow away your shuttle right now. "How about you just transport us aboard then?" asked Straha. Frank's response was quick. "You're getting on my nerves Commander Fuckface. Shut up or I'll transport you right into space!" The channel was then closed. "Annoying son of a bitch," cursed Straha. "Pilot, we're abandoning ship. Where can we transport?" "Uh, you see sir," the pilot answered, "the concentration of ships, as well as the Titanic's weapons fire has caused severe subspace interference, which limits transporter range to the immediate area around us. The Titanic." "Bloody hell. Oh well. We'll beam aboard his ship ourselves. Better arm yourself too. He sounded pissed." The pilot coughed. "Sir, they've raised their deflector shields, presumably to prevent us from transporting." Straha banged his fist on a panel. "Smart bastard. Fix those controls damnit! Computer, how much time 'till we hit the Titanic?" 60 SECONDS UNTIL IMPACT "Hurry up pilot!" urged Straha. "Don't worry sir, all I have to do it reroute the primary plasma conduits to emit a phased tachyeon burst to recalibrate the engines coils," the pilot explained, Straha not understanding a word. 50 SECONDS UNTIL IMPACT The pilot began typing on his console extremely fast, and with less then a minute Straha wasn't sure if he could accomplish all that technobabble. But the sound of the engines restarting filled the cockpit. "Yes!" exclaimed Straha. "Get us out of here!" "Which direction do you want to go?" the pilot questioned. "ANY DIRECTION!" screamed Straha. 40 SECONDS UNTIL IMPACT The shuttle shook violently but its course did not change. "What the fuck was that? Why aren't we turning?!" demanded Straha. "Since you didn't give me a direction, I tried to go left and right. I guess the thrusters canceled each other out," the pilot explained. "You moron. Uh, turn us left!" Straha ordered frantically. 30 SECONDS UNTIL IMPACT "Hmm. Seems I accidentally burned out the thrusters. Don't worry, I can just cross a few wires and fix it." "HURRY!" "Uh-oh," the pilot said. "Can't remember if I cross the red or the blue wire. Do you know sir?" 20 SECOND UNTIL IMPACT "Uh, err, you're the fucking pilot, choose one!" shouted Straha. A huge explosion rocked the ship, but their course still didn't change. Straha sighed. "Let me guess, you crossed both?" 10 SECONDS UNTIL IMPACT "Uh, what do we do now sir?" the pilot asked. "I don't know, maybe something will save us, like a miracle," Straha replied. 3...2...1... "Or not." Chapter 3 The bridge of the Enterprise was dim and deserted. Only Captain Picard and Lieutenant Human-Shield were there. "Hey, Lieutenant," said Picard. "How come just you and me are on the bridge? What if there's an emergency or something?" Human-Shield, manning the tactical station, responded, "Captain, how could there be an emergency in Spacedock? Regulations dictate only 2 officers are required on the bridge in Spacedock." "Err, yeah, I knew that, I was just, uh, testing you. Say, when does my shift end?" Human Shield checked his console. "Sir, your shift ends in 43 minutes." "Fuck that!" replied Picard. "I'm the Captain for God's sake! Reset the clocks and set them 43 minutes ahead. I'm going off duty." "Captain!" objected Human-Shield. "Regulations also require at least a Lt. Commander on the bridge at all times." "Bloody regulations," cursed Picard. "Well, where's the replacement for Commander Riker. Uh...Ensign Straga or something." Human-Shield checked his console. "Sir, COMMANDER StraHa's shuttle crashed only a few minutes ago. There were no survivors." Picard shrugged. "Oh well, wasn't our shuttle. Lord knows we lose enough of them already. Hmm...which Lt. Commanders are left on the Enterprise? Worf isn't here yet...I know! Call Geordi to the bridge. I heard he finally got that cheese grader off his eyes." Human-Shield looked pained. "Sir, if you bothered to read my reports instead of drinking your fucking Earl Gray and reading that Shakespeare crap you would know Commander La Forge was accidentally transported into a wall 3 days ago you incompetent pathetic excuse of a Captain!" Picard ignored the insults. "Bloody hell. Transporter accidents? Shuttle crashes? What the fuck is this, Star Trek?!" "Uh, sir...-" "Quiet!" barked Picard. "I mean, what's next? Red shirts being slaughtered?" Human-Shield was now extremely pissed off. "Sir, my name should be an indication that I do not appreciate such humor. I-hey you! Stop! What are you doing?! No, please! Don't! I beg of you-!" Picard turned to look at what was happening. Worf had appeared on the bridge and was advancing on the lieutenant with a Bat'leth in hand. Human-Shield grabbed his phaser, but in a single swipe, Worf cut off the arm, sending it, phaser in hand flying. Crying out in pain, he staggered back, but Worf continued his attack. He slashed his Bat'leth, cutting Human-Shield's chest. Worf then impaled him deeply. He then began to twist it around, doing even more damage. When he heard Human-Shield gurgle as he choked on his own blood, Worf pulled the blade out, brought it up and decapitated him. The bloodied, not so complete body fell to the floor, the head landing right beside it. The gruesome fight disgusted Picard. "Mr. Worf, why did you murder Mr. Human-Shield?" Worf looked confused. "Mr. Human-Shield? Ugh, sorry sir, me thought he was a Romulan P'Tagh!" "Don't worry about it Mr. Worf unlike our Superior Human Racial Purity, I know you primitive, inferior Klingons are always violent. Anyway, he can be replaced" Picard assured him. "However, you will have to pay for the cleaning bill." "Bah, it is dishonorable for a Klingon Warrior to have to pay for cleaning!" replied Worf. "Just like you said it is dishonorable for a Klingon to pay up in Poker Games? Sure." Picard then stood up. "Well, you have the Bridge Mr. Worf, I'm going to my Quarters for some Earl Gray Tea." Hours later, Picard was sleeping in his quarters. He awoke slowly, knocking away the copy of Hamlet he was reading. He cursed his old body. After reading barely half of it he fell asleep. In the Academy he could read half of ALL of Shakespeare's books in one night before he even yawned. Fuck, he was old. His body was old and frail. He'd need to spend that year on Ba'ku he'd promised that hot chick before he'd be his old young self. Hell, in the Academy he'd banged so many girls they said he was the next Kirk. A sudden beep at the door brought his mind out of his memories and regret. "Enter," he commanded. The door opened and a very tall man entered. He wore a standard Starfleet uniform with the rank of Lt. Commander. "Who the bloody hell are you?" demanded Picard. "Lt. Commander Stravo, sir, your new tactical officer," the man stated. "New tactical officer?!" exclaimed Picard. "What happened to Worf?" Stravo coughed. "Uh, he thought a window was looking dishonorably at him. He fired a phaser at it, and was sucked into space. I heard several ships report the corpse is still floating around Spacedock. "NO!!!" screamed Picard. "First Data, then Geordi, now Worf?! I can't take this shit!!!" Picard went for his phaser, set it to maximum, and stuffed it into his mouth. He fired. After assigning a clean-up crew to remove the large amount of blood, brains and skull fragments in the Captain's room, Stravo returned to the bridge. He tapped his combadge and said, "Stravo to Starfleet Command. I regret to inform you that Captain Picard has committed suicide. A voice then replied, "My God, another officer is dead? Oh well. Since you've turned yourselves into a meatgrinder, we're not going to send you a valuable Captain." Stravo asked, "Well what the hell are you going to do?" There was a laugh. "You're the new Captain." "WHAT?!" "Yep, instant promotion. Congratulations, Captain." And before Stravo could reply, the line was cut. "Oh fuck." CHAPTER FOUR A Klingon Bird of Prey, the Qua'Go'Mak'Hika flew out of control in empty space. What began as a simple minor list quickly turned into a violent spin. On the bridge, Captain Kork threw his empty bloodwine cup at the navigator and shouted, "You p'tagh! Bring this ship into a level flight before I grind you ass into gagh food!" Rubbing his head, the navigator apologized, "Sorry My Lord, it's just after about 30 bloodwines, everything starts spinning! Kork frowned. "But only 25 bloodwines is lethal, how'd you drink 30?" The navigator shrugged. Suddenly, his console beeped. Looking at it he reported, "Master, either there's an enemy ship on the sensors, or our cleaning crew forgot to dust the radar screen. Kork thought for a moment. His cleaning crew always kept the ship spotless, a daunting task with Klingons hangovers. It had to be the latter. "It's a ship alright. But what kind?" The navigator checked the sensors. "Hmm...triangle shaped, like a wedge. Fully armoured, very tough." "Finally, we can shoot something! Set a course, maximum afterburner warp! We'll sneak up on them!" "Uh, sir, if we want to sneak up on them, activating the cloaking device would help," the navigator suggested. "Oh shut up you bastard! Activated the damn cloak. But make me look stupid again and you get a 'special' job on the firing range." The navigator looked up. "You mean I get to clean the guns sir?" "Ugh! Worthless J'togh! Engage!" On board the Killing Stuff Sir Nitram was contacted by Darth Wong. He had explained his situation before (and left out the scratched paint) and had given time in order to gather strategic information about this galaxy, which he had failed to accomplish. He had been trying to put off the conversation for day by faking problems communicating with the wormhole. But now that damn Sith was going to chew him out for no results. Darth Wong's holographic image appeared and spoke, "Captain Nitram, what have you found?" "Well My Lord," Nitram replied, "A galaxy is a big place and we know so little about this one. The ship we encountered could be thousands of light-years away from its planet and-" "You have found nothing," Wong interrupted. "We've found some limited amounts of information that may prove to be useful..." Wong held up his hand. "Silence. If you had really found anything of value you would have contacted me and not tried to hide you pathetic womprat. Since you're too incompetent to be responsible for this task, I'm assigning someone to takeover for you." "Uh, may I ask who my new commanding officer, My Lord?" Nitram asked quietly. "Someone with a triple digit IQ, unlike you apparently. His name is Admiral MKSheppard." Nitram's jaw dropped. "Admiral MKSheppard?! With all do respect Lord Wong, you can't be serious! He's a madman! His insanity is only surpassed by his immense cruelty and malice!" "He gets the job done," Wong countered. "Something which you cannot claim. Now continue your feeble search and wait for further instructions. The Admiral will be coming through the wormhole in a few days. And be warned. Any disobedience will be...dealt with. Darth Wong out." Nitram collapsed into his chair. "Man, that was harsh. i think I'm going to go sulk in my quarters." Unknown to Nitram at the time, a panel on the bridge was beeping quietly. It was the CGT sensor system, which Lt. Swarsgeneral was supposed to be watching, but had decided a more efficient use of time would be sleeping. As the Qua'Go'Mak'Hika silently approached the Killing Stuff, Captain Kork got even more excited. Songs would be sung of the this day. Kork, the Fearless Warrior, takes down an impressive warship a hundred times larger. He would be a General! Maybe even on the High Council and placed on the road to Chancellorship! "Range to target?" he asked the weapons officer. "Twelve Thousand Kellicams, closing." "Prepare to transfer power from the cloaking device to the disrupters," ordered Kork. "And load torpedo bay." "Aye sir." the weapons officer reached for his console, then stopped. "Uh, load it with what sir?" "TORPEDOES!" screamed Kork. For the love of Kahless, he hoped the songs wouldn't focus too much on his crew. Lt. Swarsgeneral suddenly awoke to the now rapid loud beeping on the CGT sensors. Shocked, he activated the comm and said, "Captain, please report the bridge immediately." "Five thousand Kellicams." "Orient disrupters to target." "Two Thousand Kellicams." "DROP THE CLOAK!" Captain Nitram stepped onto the bridge, pissed at the interruption of his sulking. "What do you want Swagegface?" Swarsgeneral coughed. "Well sir, it appears that there's a-Holy Kriff!" Instantly every alarm on the Killing Stuff went off as the Bird of Prey decloaked. "Shields!" shouted Nitram. "Prepare to-!" "FIRE!!!" Instantly a photon torpedo and rapid disrupter bursts slammed into the Killing Stuff. On the bridge, Swarsgeneral was thrown from his seat. He wen flying across the bridge. He smashed into a wall in a bloody mess. Nitram was amazed. "Sithspit, what the Kriff was that? I didn't even feel the ship move." "Sir, Lt. Swarsgeneral chair malfunction," Kazuaki Shimazaki explained. "Kirffin' moron kept on sleeping in it, so it got KUBARed. Good riddance. Little womprat pissed me off. Always snoring, and his unpronounceable name-" "SHUT UP KAZ!" ordered Nitram. "What's the status of the shields?" "One hundred percent sir," Kazuaki reported. "Their weapons fire isn't doing anything." Nitram thought for a moment. "Yes, this is exactly why I need to get in Wong's favor. Target ion cannons." "I wouldn?t recommend that sir," Kaz interrupted. "You see their power generation system seems to completely rely on power in order to stop from exploding. Why, any interruption, even for a second would cause the ship to explode." "Ah Kriff!" swore Nitram. "Oh well, we'll wait for them to stop firing their weak weapons, and tractor them and board." "I didn't want prisoners you P'tagh!" screamed Kork. "I wanted that ship destroyed!" "Sir, it was a lucky shot-" began the weapons operator but was cutoff when Kork shot and vaporized him. "My lord," said the first officer Kahy'ear, "It appears we're out of weapons from our previous glorious battles. But I have a suggestion. I think that large tower on that ship is their bridge. If we were to ram it..." Kork smiled. "It would be glorious! Navigator, set a collision course! Even you can't miss a ship that large. And remember to leave a log so our glorious battle will be known to all! RAMMING SPEED!!!" Kaz gulped. "Uh oh sir. It looks like their going to ram us." "Damn, we might have to shoot them after all." Nitram sighed. "Oh well. We can't use ion cannons. Try to aim for their engines. Maybe the momentum will knock them off course. If not, frag 'em." A young lieutenant coughed nervously. "uh sir, looks like we have a problem. It appears that Lt. Swarsgeneral drooled all over the weapons console before he died. I can't fire on them." Kaz burst out, "SITHSPIT, WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE! THAT BASTARD HAS DOOMED US ALL! THIS IS THE END-" "SHUT. UP. KAZ!" screamed Nitram. But he cursed silently. What the Kriff was he going to do now? As he watched the alien ship get closer and closer, he decided that swearing loudly would be his best bet. As the Bird of Prey came in to crash, Nitram prepared to die. But at the last second, it missed! "YOU MISSED!" Kork fumed. "You P'tagh! Of all the incompetent things you've done while serving under me, this is the most stupid thing ever! You should get a Nobel prize with that lack of intelligence. You missed a ship the size of an asteroid!" Kaz reported to Nitram, "Captain, we've cleaned off the console. Weapons fully restored." Nitram smiled evilly. "Excellent...Kaz, I want you to disable their shields. Low power turbolasers only. And send them a message. 'Prepare to be boarded!'" CHAPTER 5 Aspetay. A boring, completely orthodox planet. It didn't have a native intelligence species, it was just colonized. It had didn't invent any new technology. It hadn't produced any notable scientists, writers, philosophers, mass murderers, or anyone of note. It played no real role in galactic politics except for a tiny voice among millions. And compared to Corascaunt's quadrillion population, with only 900 billion inhabitants it could be described as sparsely populated. But was about to get a whole kriffin' more sparsely populated, thought Admiral MKSheppard. He had brought his fleet to this dirtball for one reason. It was supplying the rebels. And it wasn't to 'overthrow the evil Empire and restore freedom to the galaxy.' It was because the rebels were desperate and they could rack up prices for equipment as high as they wanted. They were nothing more than greedy kriffin' bastards. And that was why he ordered a Base Delta Zero Operation. Onboard his massive Executor class Command Ship Revenger he watched the planet die. As the first few turbolasers struck the surface he knew tens of millions were killed instantly. And then more turbolasers struck, first burning all sentient life off the surface, then all life on the surface, and finally, the surface itself was burned off. It was hilarious. But still MKSheppard longed for something bigger. While the planet he attacked a few days ago did have a population of 2 trillion it was still pathetic. Ever since the so called 'New Republic' had been driven out of the core worlds and the quadrillion sized populations that MKSheppard longed to destroy, terrorizing and murdering worlds was not as fun. "Sir," a lieutenant said, interrupting his thinking. "Lord Wong is contacting you over the holonet. New orders apparently." MKSheppard's eyebrows went up. "New orders? It's about kriffing time! Activate holoprojectors!" Instantly a image of Lord Wong appeared in full colour. Officially no military holnet communications were supposed to be in colour other then blue, but he was a Fleet Admiral and no one cared enough to change anything. "How may I serve you, my Lord?" asked Shep politely, a rare thing only reserved for superiors. Darth Wong sighed at MKSheppard's obvious ass kissing. "You've got a new assignment. A wormhole has been discovered that leads to a new galaxy." MKSheppard?s jaw dropped. "is it inhabited?" Darth Wong nodded. "Yes, we know little about them. There's no galactic government apparently. In the immediate area around the wormhole there's only a group of small regional powers with only a few hundred worlds. Their technology is quite inferior to us. They don't even have hyperdrive, just a strange subspace based system that is quite slow." "Sounds like a bunch of savages sir," MKSheppard commented. "what are my orders my Lord?" "You are to gather information about them and access the forces needed for an invasion. We're transmitting the coordinates to the wormhole now. Further instructions will be given when you arrive." "Yes" sir. What forces do we have in this new galaxy?" "Only a single Imperator, the Killing Stuff. They're the ones who discovered the wormhole and have been scouting out the region. You are to take what information they've gathered and add them to your fleet. And to oversee this operation you will take aboard my apprentice, Darth Durandal. Darth Wong out." MKSheppard turned off the holoprojector and smiled evilly. A whole new galaxy to attack! Oh sure, they might not be as advanced as the Empire but anything with a ship was a target and a galaxy could contain a lot of ships. And of course planets to BDZ, and there?d be no complains about wiping out a bunch of barbaric aliens a million light-years way. having to take orders from this Darth Durandal wouldn't be the greatest, but he was sure he would get along fine with him. On board the bridge of the Killing Stuff, Nitram watched a assault transport full of elite stormtroopers approach the disabled alien ship and several others stand off ready to assist. "Status of transports?" he asked. "Assault Transport Bravo 1 preparing for final hostile boarding operations. Bravo 2, 4 and 5 ready for quick strike boarding if needed," a lieutenant told him. Kaz walked up beside him. "Captain I must voice my concern about this operation. Should we be risking valuable Stormtroopers on an alien ship that may be heavily defended? I think a company of SD-10 Wardroids would be the best option!" Nitram laughed. "Oh relax Kaz! Scans indicate there's only about 20 or so people onboard. Besides, Lt. Dalton and his men are the best of the best. They'll get the job done." "Maybe. But these, uh, 'Klinjons' may be the most brilliant warriors in all the galaxy! Why, compared to them our men may just be morons charging with knives." On board Bravo 1 Lt. Rob Dalton prepared his men for combat. By prepared he of course meant gobble doughnuts while Platoon Sergeant Pablo Sanchez did all the work. "Kriff, what the hell are we doing?" complained Pablo." Fucking Captain Asshole, sending us to take this alien ship. Sithspit, in normal boarding operations the first group has a lifespan of 20 seconds or less!" "Shut up Pablo," ordered Dalton. "Fucking pessimist. This much be the 500th time you've said we're going to die." "Way more then that, and besides, you, me and Wilkens are the only ones who haven't been kriffing killed. And the only reason you're still alive is because you stay behind the front lines and eat your kriffing doughnuts." "Is that right? Well guess what fucker, you get to be the first lucky soldier to enter this new alien ship! Take Private David with you, he's a nobody. Now fuck off and die." With that, Dalton retreated to the cockpit. "Kriffing bastard," swore Pablo, walking up to the airlock, which was now attached to an alien one. "You can enter first, sir," offered David. "Piss off, I'm not a 'sir' and you know that ass kisser. You can-hey!" shouted Pablo as David slammed him into the airlock and closed the door. Swearing at the top of his lungs and promising to kill David a hundred different and painful ways, he gulped as he saw the door to the alien ship open. So he did the best combat tactic he could think of. He flicked his blaster rifle to full automatic, rushed forward and fired madly. The results were apparent. Of a 500 shot clip, 498 hit the walls, floor and various objects, and blew huge holes in everything. 2 shots however actually hit an enemy. Kahy'ear had gone down from the bridge to stop the invaders. As soon as he had spotted Pablo he went for his disrupter. Unfortunately, a blaster bolt nailed his arm and blew most of it off, leaving a small stump. A grunt named Ratochina didn't even get a chance to react before getting shot in the chest and killed instantly. As the rest of his men rushed in to find out the fate of their sergeant, Pablo looked over to the alien on the ground clutching what was left of his arm. "Looks like we got ourselves a prisoner!" After shipping Kahy'ear to the Killing Stuff for brutal torture, and shipping the traitor David into space for a brutal death, Pablo was ready to advance. However a Klingon warrior came through the doors to the room, sent by Kork to check to see if they were being boarded or not. Pablo laughed at the Klingon's bat'leth and pulled the trigger of his blaster rifle. But he hadn't bothered to change the clip yet and empty gun didn't fire. The Klingon warrior advanced and sliced down at him, and he narrowly dodged it. The Klingon sliced horizontally this time. Pablo rolled to the side. Hitting nothing, the Klingon's swing continued until he slammed into the wall. Dazed, he turned back to attack again, only to find in front of his face a reloaded blaster rifle. "Tu Cha!" the Klingon cried. His brains smacked against the wall instantly, and dripped to the floor. "Tu Cha yourself, you kriffing son of a bitch!" spit Pablo. The platoon advanced, finding nothing but empty rooms. But at the door to the corridor that their scans revealed lead to the main bridge, they encountered a problem. With the rest of the men a safe distance away, PFC Expendable opened the door. Before his brain could even register the picture his eyes sent his body flew backward with a dozen disrupter wounds. "Ah Kriff, I liked him," said Pablo. "Judging by his wounds, we'll probably lose half the men taking that corridor." Wilkens spoke up. "I have a suggestion sir. We can have one squad lay down covering fire while another advances. Then we have another draw the enemy away and then the last will flank them and cut them off. We can then-" Pablo stopped him. "I have another idea." He armed a thermal detonator, and chucked through the door. Diving to the floor and covering his head, he heard shouting, a bang, then nothing. Smiling, he got up and checked. There was no evidence of defenders but bloodstains. "All right, we're going to take the bridge," Pablo said to his men. "Now these are likely the top brass guys, and we need some prisoners! Set to stun only, or I'll send you straight to hell you fuckers!" They burst into the bridge and started firing. Pablo spotted a Klingon fire off his disrupter at him. Leveling his blaster rifle, he fired 3 quick shots and the Klingon dropped. Glancing at the smoking wound on the Klingon's chest, Pablo cursed and switched to stun himself. He fired off full auto shots and nearly hit his own men, though you could blast away with stun bolts since they were neither power consuming nor had real recoil. The fight was a cakewalk. The Klingons had tried to use melee weapons, which weren't very effective against automatic weapons. There were only two casualties. An unlucky private had a knife through into his face and died instantly. Wilkens took a shoulder wound to one of the few Klingons on the bridge that had used a gun. He had proceeded to kick the stunned body. "Wilkens! You know the rules about beating prisoners! Wait until their conscious at least!" Wilkens stopped kicking and instead dragged the body back to the shuttle so it could be taken unto the ship. Pablo was quite dismayed. While anyone else would be happy at such an easy fight, he was smarter. Every fight from now on could only get harder and harder. Kriffing army. He spit on a control panel and returned back to the shuttle. Chapter 6 Stravo already hated commanding the Enterprise. It was utter hell trying to get replacements for his bridge crew, engineer, doctor, and councilor. Starfleet was not going to waste good officers on a doomed ship. He had a feeling his crew replacements was going to be a terrible collection of morons and madmen. First, his Executive Officer arrived. A young Commander Alyeska. He was short, wearing the standard Federation uniform. Apparently he had assaulted an officer had a lot of leverage in Starfleet Personnel, which explained why he had gotten assigned here. Next was Lt. Commander Chris O'Farrel, new tactical officer. Apparently he had secretly used his last starship's computer to steal large sums of money (in latinum of course, not worthless credits). The final bridge officer to arrive was a Lt. Cyran, the helmsman, whose file said he was incompetent and slightly mad. However of the other replacements, only a Chief Engineer named Sothis beamed aboard. "Where the fuck is the rest of my officers?" demanded Stravo. "I can't run a fucking ship without a doctor and a councilor!" "Starfleet is reporting a personnel shortage" explained Alyeska. "I'm afraid you're going to make do with us." "Bloody hell, what a fucking lie," said Stravo. "As if this goddamn ship didn't have enough problems. Alright O'Farrell, you can be our doctor." "I'm not a doctor," replied Chris. "I don't know anything about medicine!" Stravo shrugged. "Who the fuck cares? Point a tricorder at someone, give them a hypospray of some shit and stick a neural stimulator on them. That's all the other doctors do anyway. Besides, we got a brand new EMH. And Alyeska, you're our new councilor." "What the fuck?! Hell no!" complained Alyeska. "I'd rather scrub plasma conduits." "Oh come on you coward. Just tell people that they're great and replicate a teddy bear or something. I doubt anyone's going to live to have any nervous breakdowns." "Do I have to do any of that shit?" asked Cyran. "No," answered Stravo. "You and Sothis will be backups for anyone who, uh, dies." After fixing all of the assignments, the Enterprise was ready to depart. Cyran, O'Farrell and Alyeska took their stations and Sothis left for engineering. Cyran guided the Enterprise to the Spacedock doors. "Uh sir, looks like their are ships who get to leave before us," reported Alyeska. "I estimate a 3 hour wait before we can get to open space." That pissed Stravo off. "3 hours? Like hell I'm waiting in line for that long. Tell the ships ahead of us that they have one chance to get the fuck out of our way." Alyeska sent the message with little results. "Uh sir, looks like they are telling us to, er, 'fuck off.'" "Bastards had their chance." Starvo turned to O'Farrell. "Target all ships in front of us and open fire with all phasers and quantum torpedoes." "Sir, you can't!" objected Alyeska. "Why, it's a blatant violation of regulations, disregard for life and-" "Oh shut up Alyeska! I gave them a warning. Besides, they're all morons anyway with crappy ships. Starfleet will benefit from their deaths. Fire." The Enterprise was an Sovereign class starship. During the Dominion War and various Borg attacks, there were only a small number of Sovereigns because they were so advanced, and therefore very expensive to build. Starfleet had decided to focus construction on smaller, less capable but more affordable starships. However all Sovereigns that were built were extensively upgraded from the original design to make them well worth the price tag. New shield systems and armor were installed, and new weapons such as phaser strips and photon torpedo launchers (quantum torpedoes were too expensive to produce and had several drawbacks that insured they were only installed in the ventral saucer turret) and previous weapons were upgraded to the latest systems. Almost all the computer systems were replaced with newer, better ones. It made them deadly opponents able to deal with most ships in the galaxy of smaller, equal or even larger size and mass. But Starfleet never thought that this would cause the deaths of thousands of Starfleet Officers and the loss of the most ships in peacetime ever in the history of the Federation. Onboard the U.S.S. Junk Captain Shortie sat sipping his tea. Constantly mocked by his colleagues for his petite size, he had showed them by getting command of a brand new Intrepid, one of the fastest starships in Starfleet. At 300 meters and a crew of 150 she was hardly a Galaxy or a Sovereign but she could probably outrun both at impulse or warp, and certainly beat a old Miranda or Excelsior. His career was doing great, and the only reason he was in Spacedock was because he had taken damage while rescuing a crippled passenger ship from attacking Orion Pirates. He was on his way to even better commands, and then Admiral. Shortie shivered slightly. "Hmm...feels a wee bit chilly here, doesn't it chaps? Computer, raise temperature by 5 degrees." Even as Shortie started to warm up, the message from the Enterprise came in. "All ships currently waiting to exit Spacedock, please allow the Enterprise to leave immediately." Shortie, like every other Captain in line, did not follow the order and instead sent back a reply. "That's pure bollocks, Enterprise. Now be a good sport and wait." The message fell on deaf ears, one of many Alyeska would have to hear, and one of the more polite. However the Junk happened to be directly in front of the Enterprise, wasn't moving, and had it's shields down. Captain Shortie didn't even live long enough to know he was dead. Before he could even begin to realize the Enterprise had locked on to the Junk, realize what that meant and order the shields to be raised, a phaser hit the bridge direct on and vaporized him, all of the other officers on and near the bridge, a part of the ship below it, and the Captain's tea. Photon torpedoes slammed into the Engineering section, directly where the warp core was. Then the entire Junk exploded in a massive anti-matter explosion. The attacks on all the other ships were just as deadly. They were unshielded and unprepared, and the Enterprise knew how to cripple them easily. Ships continued to explode even as the Captains onboard frantically tried to figure out what was going on, to raise defenses and mount an attack. But one ship was different. The Titanic still had its shields up from the encounter with Commander Straha and it too was a Sovereign and was far enough away from the Enterprise to take only one or two hits. Captain Frank was, like everyone else, stunned to see a fellow Starfleet suddenly open fire and brutally attack and destroy starships and murder hundreds, perhaps thousands, of fellow officers. But then he realized that Commander Straha, who had previously assaulted and attempted to board and conquer the Titanic said he was from the Enterprise. It was a conspiracy, Frank decided. Captain Picard (or whoever now commanded the Enterprise) wanted control of Starfleet, and perhaps the entire Federation. Straha had tried to seize the Titanic and now they were trying to cripple as much as Starfleet as they could. It was certain to fail, unless they had other forces waiting to launch the coupe. But Captain Frank wasn't going to let the Enterprise survive to contact them. "Helm, pursuit course, follow the Enterprise. Lt. Background, hail them. Order them to surrender immediately or be destroyed." "No response," the lieutenant replied. "Good," muttered Frank, partially to himself. "Good?!" exclaimed Background. "Yeah, good. If we captured them, those bastards wouldn't get hanged or shot, but sent to some fucking penal colony. This way they will pay the ultimate price for their treason. Lock weapons and open fire." Captain Stravo was smiling at the results of the Enterprise's fire and watching the ship near the Spacedock door's when the entire ship shook from fire. Stravo cursed the useless inertial dampeners but was also confused at the attack. he had estimated that there wouldn't be any return fire until they left Spacedock at least. "Sir, it looks like the Titanic is closing to engage us," reported Chris. "Fuck," said Stravo. "The Titanic is a Sovereign. Why the fuck didn't you take her out?" "I couldn't sir," explained Chris. "She had her shields up already for some reason and was too far away to hit with anything damaging." Stravo cursed his luck. A Sovereign attacking meant there was no way they could leave Earth before reinforcements arrived. But, as he glanced over at a tactical display, he smiled. The Titanic had stopped most of its fire because the U.S.S. Nuclear Waste Disposal, disabled by the Enterprise's fire, was in the way. "O'Farrel! Lock tractor beams on the Nuclear Waste Disposal! Keep her between us and the Titanic!" A blue tractor beam locked onto the Nuclear Waste Disposal and kept it in the way of the Titanic. The firing on the Enterprise virtually stopped and it flew through Spacedock doors easily. Alyeska spoke up. "Sir, now that we're in open space, won't it be easy for the Titanic to move to a different angle and continue firing. We can't outmaneuver her while tractoring a starship." Stravo just smiled, and then started to modify the tractor beam. Captain Frank was also smiling. They were out of the damn Spacedock, where they'd been unable to hit the fucking ship. But that was over. "Helm, new course. Heading 432 mark 5. Background, as soon as you have a clear shot, open fire. That bastard isn't getting away from me." "Aye sir," Background replied, preparing to fire the phasers and torpedoes when the Titanic finished its maneuver to fire. Frank knew that with a ship in tow, the Enterprise would maneuver like a turtle with heart stroke in Jell-O. The Titanic would be able to stop the Enterprise from escaping, and then more starships could arrive and blow it straight to hell. But then something happened that he did not expect. The tractor beam changed somehow, and instead of pulling it pushed the Nuclear Waste Disposal away. Right into the Titanic. Captain Frank had just enough time to curse at stupidly accepting command of a ship named the Titanic before the Nuclear Waste Disposal hit. Watching the Titanic explode, Stravo sighed in relief. "O'Farrel, hail Spacedock. I suppose they'll want to talk with me." On the viewscreen, an image of Fleet Admiral Valdemar appeared. He looked furious. "You fucking bastard! What the fuck do you think you're doing?! You've destroyed precious starships, murdered countless valuable officers! You...you-!" "Shut the fuck up," interrupted Stravo. "I fucking wasn't going to spend 3 hours in Spacedock waiting to die on this ship. As for your poor starships and officers, well, I gave them a chance to move. They refused." Valdemar looked even angrier. "I going to enjoy your Court Martial, Stravo. You better surrender immediately or I'll blow you out of space." Stravo laughed. "You don't get it do you? When I got assigned to the Enterprise and heard of its death record, I decided I might need some...'leverage' with Starfleet. Scan section 13A. You'll find a few tons of antimatter explosives along with some tri-combalt bombs. If I give the order, you'll be nothing but free floating atoms." "What the fuck do you want then?" Valdemar asked. "I know you were going to give me some suicide mission," said Stravo. "That's ridiculous!" denied Valdemar. "What was my mission then?" Stravo questioned. Valdemar looked very nervous. "Uh, you see, it was, um, pursuit of a Borg Cube with er, no support." Stravo laughed. "I thought so. You got 10 seconds to assign me to a survivable mission." Valdemar sighed. "All right, fine. Investigate the disappearance of the Timothy Jones. We lost contact several days ago." "Now, since we're on the subject, I think making Admiral in a few weeks and getting my own 'staff' of Orion Slave Girls is more than reasonable!" Valdemar shouted, "Fucking hell, you're pushing your luck Stravo! You may have your bombs planted, but I have 100 photon torpedoes aimed at you! I'll give you the Timothy Jones mission and nothing else! Accept that or die." Stravo conceded. "OK, OK, it was just a suggestion. Do you know what happened to the Timothy Jones? Any last transmissions?" "It reported taking damage from a subspace anomaly and being trapped," Valdemar lied. "It had apparently suffered engine damage a few days earlier. I'm transmitting their last known coordinates." Stravo nodded. "Sounds easy enough. we'll be on our way. Well, goodbye, Sir." The transmission ended. Valdemar turned away from the viewscreen in Spacedock's command center and smiled. That fucker was in for it now. He reviewed the last transmission of the Timothy Jones sent by Ensign Lifeless, again. WARNING! WARMHOLE DISCOVERED, PRESUMED TO LEAD TO ANOTHER GALAXY. UNKNOWN ALIEN SHIP HAS COME THROUGH IT. HOSTILE, ATTACKED US. VERY POWERFUL, LARGE. WEAPONS INEFFECTIVE. DO NOT EXPECT TO SURVIVE. DO NOT SEND ONLY ONE SHIP, WOULD NOT SURVIVE EITHER. LARGE FORCE NEEDED TO COMBAT THIS ONE SHIP. RECOMMEND SENDING 100 SHIPS TO DESTROY IT AND CLOSE THE WORMHOLE BEFORE ALIEN REINFORCEMENTS ARRIVE. REPEAT: WARNING...