2245.
FEDERATION – KLINGON BATTLE OF DONATU V.
ADMIRAL WILLIAM JEFFERIES, U.S.S. CONSTITUTION.
“Admiral’s Log. The may be my last log as the flag officer of this vessel. The Klingons have gained the upper hand and demanding our surrender or destruction. All the starships have lost shields, transporters, weapons, and warp drive, which makes it clear that the enemy has some kind of new weapon at their disposal. Mere torpedoes and phasers couldn’t have disabled us in one swift blow, which confirms my suspicions that the Empire has developed some kind of EMP weapon. If the Klingons were to push their advances into Federation space....it doesn’t bear thinking about. Captain Krase of the IKS Amar has demanded that all remaining personnel from this vessel come to his ship via shuttlecraft as prisoners of war, where we will be processed. I am all out of options and it appears that the planet, and our lives, are surrendered to the might of the Klingon Empire. I have ordered all vessels to eject their warp powered flight recorders so that maybe lessons can be learned from this disastrous day. My first officer, Commander Davenport will be piloting myself & my senior officer’s via my Captains Yacht, the Declaration.”
Beneath the saucer section, the disk-like vessel separated itself, and headed in a trajectory towards the Amar. Once within range, the Klingon vessel would tractor the Declaration, and the shuttles that followed into the shuttle bay, and deliver the officers to whatever gruesome fate awaited them. The best that they could hope for is being offered as bargaining chips for Federation forces to step back & cede territory to the Empire. The worst thought that crossed the first officer’s mind was spending his remaining days in the dilithium mines of Rura Penthe. Quietness enveloped the cockpit of the yacht, save for the throbbing of the impulse engines, amongst the beeps and whistles of the naviboard. Then the quietness was broken as one by one, the shuttlecraft were picked out by the Klingons one by one, until just the Declaration remained, bout to stare down the mouth of a torpedo tube launching a volley of fire with their name on it. Just when all appeared lost, Andy had a brainwave. It was a gamble, but he knew that with the choices of either being amongst the shuttlecraft that the Amar was picking off, or being a Klingon prisoner of war, anything was worth a gamble. “Admiral, take the helm, I have an idea, but we need to get close enough for this to work.” Intrigued at what his first officer was up to, the Admiral slipped into the pilot seat. Andy rapidly pressed buttons on his tricorder, which beeped continuously acknowledging his inputted comments. “Got it!” he exclaimed. The Amar’s shields were down, and Andy could easily locate the source that had generated the EMP shockwave. Interfacing it with his tricorder, with the yachts navigational deflectors caused his signal to be amplified. As he pressed the button to initiate the signal command, which he hoped would activate the weapon on the Amar, the deflector burnt out, swiftly followed by him dropping the tricorder in shock as the device succumbed to the same fate. The Klingons vessels were lifeless, spinning out of control and careening of one another, they headed towards the planet where gravity would capture the craft and pull them to their doom. “Yeeee haaaaa.....their EMP weapon has malfunctioned on them and they are like dead ducks falling from the sky.” Admiral Jefferies disturbed Andy’s moment of glory. “I hate to ruin this moment that has saved our lives, but our vessel is falling like a stone too.” “Talk about out of the frying pan,” muttered Davenport. “Prepare yourself; it’s going to be anything but a text book landing!”
NORTHERN POLAR REGION, DONATU V.
Andy muttered to himself, but also used his mutterings and thoughts as a tool to try to take his mind of the treacherous, freezing blizzard conditions. The plan to evade the Klingons had worked, and he pondered that with him actually setting foot on Donatu V, would it mean that the planet was now Federation territory? He knew that the fleet would have sent distress signals, and it wouldn’t be long before more reinforcements arrived. But then again, he pondered that being the proud warrior race; surely it would be an act of cowardice to send a distress signal for help? Would the Klingons view that as a sign of weakness and not bother to send distress signals, whilst accepting their fate? He dismissed the notion in an instant, focusing his near frozen mind on his navipad that kept prompting him to head north where there happened to be a mountain range with caves that would provide adequate shelter. The crash was far from the textbook landings he had learned in the academy days, with the loss of all hands except him. He started to wonder how much longer this strange turn of luck would hold. He had survived the onslaught of the Empire in orbit, where his ship, the Constitution, was no doubt a drifting, lifeless hulk. He had survived the possibility of being a prisoner of war. On top that he had survived a crash landing, cheating death yet again. Surely, there must be a commendation of valour, or medal of honour due from Starfleet upon his return, he mused. The blizzard had gotten even worse and he was down to zero visibility. His only salvation was the beeping device, which guided him ever closer to shelter, and had suddenly increased its intermittency tenfold. He had finally found the mountain ranges and before him he could make out the entrance of a cave. Although he had to dig a bit as the snow had covered some of the opening. Using his hands as a shovel, he moved through the snow faster and faster, until he felt a slight rumbling beneath his feet. Andy stopped to listen for the rumble, but it too had stopped, and as he continued to shift the snow, it gave way beneath his feet.
2380.
U.S.S. PHOENIX – EN ROUTE TO Q’ONOS.
CAPTAIN’S LOG: STARDATE APRIL 1ST 2380.
“Our mission to Ardana is seemingly littered with obstacles, and is fitting with the irony of today’s date! Not only are we being delayed due to the actions of two superior officers, but I am now without a Counsellor and an engineer. Counsellor Walker & Ensign Sodak were found unconscious in the Ensign’s quarters losing blood from their noses. They are currently stable & being monitored by Doctor Coey in sickbay. I just hope he can get to the bottom of the cause of their comatose state, although it is highly unlikely that any of the ship’s logical Vulcans will want to assist a v’tosh ka’tur. I could order an officer, but I will not go against free will, or risk whatever is affecting them, affecting any of the crew. If the Doc’s investigations bear no fruit, I feel my only other option is to pay a visit to Sodak’s parents on Vulcan. I am unsure of his relationship with them considering his abandonment of logic, so I hope that parental instincts will take precedence. I’m also concerned about the Doc and his conflict between his preferred traditional healing experience, and his clear dislike of working in what he quoted as ‘a god damn computer centre.’ I can only hope that he settles in & gets used to his new working environment.”
As the turbolift carried him to the Bridge, Ensign Rollings knew that until his Ops shift ended, this would be the last bit of peace he would experience. It’s not that he didn’t mind noise; it was just that he preferred the peace. His ears still hadn’t acclimatised to the cacophony that was normal on a starship bridge, and his ears were sensitive at the best of times, what with heightened sensory perception being a natural characteristic of a Vullian. Although similar in build to most humanoids, the only visible difference being heightened senses, and a ridge bisecting the face from the nose bridge to the skull base. Today though, his senses seemed more sensitive than normal, as the whirring of the turbolift was particularly noticeable, and seemed to be increasing.
Simon was in his Ready Room, going over the list of available missions for the Alpha Fleet. As he made his way through the current list, he mentally picked out the one’s that particularly peaked his interest. Amongst those were visits to Risa, Denobula, North Star, as well as a mapping of a stellar nursery, and aid missions to Cardassia. But he knew better than to get ahead of himself as he knew that things rarely went according to plan. The reality of starship Captaincy broke his train of thought, as Commander Davenport activated the internal comm channel. “Bridge to Captain Hodgkinson. We have crossed into Klingon space. Engineering are having problems maintaining a stable warp field. It appears to be being disrupted by an anomalous reading that’s off the chart. The emissions appear to be neutrino, but are such a large amount that I can only deduce they emanate from a large mass that is cloaked.” Simon leapt out his chair and headed for the Bridge, issuing commands as he replied. “Drop to hyper impulse. Shields up. Red alert!”
2245.
NORTHERN POLAR REGION, DONATU V.
When Andy came to he had the mother of all headaches. As he tried to open his eyes and stand up, bright lights glared as he found himself feeling a concrete surface as he attempted to get up. Next to him an old rusty door lay on the floor, and he couldn’t believe that his frame had booted through it, but then he felt the pain in his legs as he eventually found his feet, and began to explore. As he eyes came to he found himself in what could only be described as a massive underground hangar, as row after row of powerful spotlights began to illuminate the room. Then it hit him like a point blank phaser blast, as his eyes adjusted to take in the row after row of Klingon vessels. They all looked very similar to the D7 class battle cruiser, except more of a natural evolution of that model. It now all made sense why Donatu V was so important to the Klingons. It was a launching point for an all out assault on the Federation. The Klingons were preparing for invasion. Suddenly a klaxon started to blare with a repeating Klingon phrase that didn’t sound good at all. The temperature in the hangar dropped suddenly, and it felt to Andy that it was getting colder inside than it was outside, as he instantly froze where he stood.
2380.
U.S.S. PHOENIX, KLINGON SPACE.
Ensign Rollings emerged from the turbolift screaming whilst holding his ears. He dropped to the floor, doubling up in agony as Andy ran over to help. The Ops officer announced an incoming hail as on the viewscreen, a fleet of BattleBirds decloaked, clearly surrounding the Phoenix. Marax then replaced the image of his fleet with his face on the viewscreen. Ensign Rollings, grimacing in pain, suddenly rose to his feet, grabbing Andy’s neck whilst holding a serrated blade to it. Congratulating the surgically altered cleric, Marax laughed; “Well done Rokax, you have served me well. Captain, sorry to cause any inconvenience, but I require your first officer. Allow him to beam to my vessel, and your ship will be spared.” Immediately seeing his friend in trouble, and a security risk to the ship, Rez unholstered his phaser aiming it right between the abductors eyes. “Where is the real Ensign Rollings?” Rokax snarled and laughed, his hand twitching as the cool steel serrated edge pressed against the flesh of the Commander’s throat, threatening to pierce the jugular at any given moment. Simon gestured for Rez to back down, so that the agent wouldn’t feel threatened, and mindlessly kill his first officer. The moments seemed to play out in slow motion, as sweat poured profusely down his brow. His breathing laboured & heavy, Andy had nowhere to go, and any sudden movement to defend himself would deprive him & the ship of their lives. The odds were overwhelming as Simon realised that this was a no win situation, with no back door. “Drop shields” he ordered begrudgingly, as Commander Davenport disappeared in the Klingon transporter beam. The viewscreen changed to a view of the ships heading into warp. Before the Captain even mouthed the order, the Rhaanderite officer Labe shook his head at the findings of no traceable warp trail. ‘Rollings’, or Rokax was gobsmacked as he expected to be returned to his fellow clerics. He dropped to the floor, screaming as he held his ears as the synaptic device ruptured his pathways. He then lay motionless, his head resting in a pool of blood.
SOMEWHERE......
Kirsty could hear Sodak calling to her, but couldn’t make out which direction his voice came from. Surrounded by a mist that never seemed to clear, it felt like he was calling to her from all directions, as if he was all around her. The mists cleared and she could see both their bodies strapped to the biobeds, whilst the Doc was doing routine checks. There was no point shouting, screaming, or doing a dance as he wouldn’t be able to hear her, let alone see her. A familiar warmth coursed through her shoulder as Sodak placed a reassuring hand there. He seemed so calm, especially for a passionate Vulcan, yet she was completely the opposite. She tried to speak but couldn’t open her mouth and the words seemed to fade with a thought. Sodak faced her, and then she could hear his voice. He explained what she was experiencing, and what had led to them ending up in sickbay. He even joked that getting back to bed was a totally different concept then to what their bodies were experiencing now. They could see that the Doc was having no success in awakening them, and they both knew that he wouldn’t know as there wasn’t a precedent set for this. Sodak cursed the Vulcans for being so secretive with some aspects of their culture. As the Doc put them into stasis, Sodak hoped that the Captain would work out that the best people to deal with a Vulcan mystery, are Vulcans.
THE KLINGON BATTLEBIRD VENGEANCE – EN ROUTE TO DONATU V.
As he came to he found himself lying flat on a cold, metallic slab raised a couple of feet from the floor. One light filled the room which just happened to be glaring right in his line of sight, and obscuring the mutterings of other voices in the otherwise dark and damp room. A figure moved out of the darkness and into the light, bellowing. “Donatu five. The Conquerors. Captain Krase. The hidden dreadnought fleet. TALK!” Andy couldn’t understand apart from the fact that the Klingon had mentioned the planet that he had been found on encrusted in a slab of frozen ice. Then having to deal with reintegration, and starting his life from scratch, after 125 years. In reality, if he had lived he would have been either killed in duty with the Klingon & Federation skirmishes, or lived to a ripe age and see the end of the 23rd century. The heat from the lamp was stifling, and between coughs, and profusely sweating, Andy managed to find the courage in the face of adversity. “Donatu five was my frozen coffin for a century. A coffin which had caused me memory loss.....why i never even knew i had a wife and child god dammit!!” The tall, stocky, and maniacal looking Klingon introduced himself. “I am the High Priest of Boreth, and in the scrolls of the prophesised all encompassing Klingon Empire, you are known as The Defiant One. You stand in our way, but you are also key to the prophecy coming true.” Two clerics attached a bowl with various wires and aerials emanating from it, to Andy’s head whilst he struggled, and switched it on. An uncomfortable, tingling sensation rippled through his head as the probe fired the intrusive waves in its interrogation for the long buried memories of past events, which the Klingon cleric operating the machine sought. The convulsing and uncontrollable spasms stopped as he fell into a trance like state. In unpleasant situations, Starfleet officers were trained to focus on certain memories or timelines, such as their length of service, and relay it from scratch. The psychologists and counsellors called it removing oneself from harm, but Andy called it psychobabble. Still, if it was going to take his mind off whatever painful treatments were about to happen, or worse still, possible paralysation, it would be of some comfort. Lowering his heart rate, he began reeling off the dates starting from when he joined Starfleet Academy. “....promotion to Commander, first officer of the U.....S..............................S..... Constitution.....” The probe had searched deep within the recesses of the mind whilst being operated by one of the clerics, until they had found what they were looking. Sharply brought forward from the darkest corners of the subconscious, the memory played out as if Andy was experiencing it for the first time, although that wasn’t the case. He babbled like a madman as he uttered words he had exchanged in the yacht with Admiral Jeffries over a century ago. “Picking us off......a floating hulk.....Rura Penthe......prisoners of war......emp weapon.........gotcha!.....” Marax smiled as the approximate location of the dreadnought hangar was revealed, and planned to take the prisoner down with the landing party, & his entire followers. The battlecruisers would need to be checked over before they were powered up, and even the human would have his uses until his execution.
FEDERATION – KLINGON BATTLE OF DONATU V.
ADMIRAL WILLIAM JEFFERIES, U.S.S. CONSTITUTION.
“Admiral’s Log. The may be my last log as the flag officer of this vessel. The Klingons have gained the upper hand and demanding our surrender or destruction. All the starships have lost shields, transporters, weapons, and warp drive, which makes it clear that the enemy has some kind of new weapon at their disposal. Mere torpedoes and phasers couldn’t have disabled us in one swift blow, which confirms my suspicions that the Empire has developed some kind of EMP weapon. If the Klingons were to push their advances into Federation space....it doesn’t bear thinking about. Captain Krase of the IKS Amar has demanded that all remaining personnel from this vessel come to his ship via shuttlecraft as prisoners of war, where we will be processed. I am all out of options and it appears that the planet, and our lives, are surrendered to the might of the Klingon Empire. I have ordered all vessels to eject their warp powered flight recorders so that maybe lessons can be learned from this disastrous day. My first officer, Commander Davenport will be piloting myself & my senior officer’s via my Captains Yacht, the Declaration.”
Beneath the saucer section, the disk-like vessel separated itself, and headed in a trajectory towards the Amar. Once within range, the Klingon vessel would tractor the Declaration, and the shuttles that followed into the shuttle bay, and deliver the officers to whatever gruesome fate awaited them. The best that they could hope for is being offered as bargaining chips for Federation forces to step back & cede territory to the Empire. The worst thought that crossed the first officer’s mind was spending his remaining days in the dilithium mines of Rura Penthe. Quietness enveloped the cockpit of the yacht, save for the throbbing of the impulse engines, amongst the beeps and whistles of the naviboard. Then the quietness was broken as one by one, the shuttlecraft were picked out by the Klingons one by one, until just the Declaration remained, bout to stare down the mouth of a torpedo tube launching a volley of fire with their name on it. Just when all appeared lost, Andy had a brainwave. It was a gamble, but he knew that with the choices of either being amongst the shuttlecraft that the Amar was picking off, or being a Klingon prisoner of war, anything was worth a gamble. “Admiral, take the helm, I have an idea, but we need to get close enough for this to work.” Intrigued at what his first officer was up to, the Admiral slipped into the pilot seat. Andy rapidly pressed buttons on his tricorder, which beeped continuously acknowledging his inputted comments. “Got it!” he exclaimed. The Amar’s shields were down, and Andy could easily locate the source that had generated the EMP shockwave. Interfacing it with his tricorder, with the yachts navigational deflectors caused his signal to be amplified. As he pressed the button to initiate the signal command, which he hoped would activate the weapon on the Amar, the deflector burnt out, swiftly followed by him dropping the tricorder in shock as the device succumbed to the same fate. The Klingons vessels were lifeless, spinning out of control and careening of one another, they headed towards the planet where gravity would capture the craft and pull them to their doom. “Yeeee haaaaa.....their EMP weapon has malfunctioned on them and they are like dead ducks falling from the sky.” Admiral Jefferies disturbed Andy’s moment of glory. “I hate to ruin this moment that has saved our lives, but our vessel is falling like a stone too.” “Talk about out of the frying pan,” muttered Davenport. “Prepare yourself; it’s going to be anything but a text book landing!”
NORTHERN POLAR REGION, DONATU V.
Andy muttered to himself, but also used his mutterings and thoughts as a tool to try to take his mind of the treacherous, freezing blizzard conditions. The plan to evade the Klingons had worked, and he pondered that with him actually setting foot on Donatu V, would it mean that the planet was now Federation territory? He knew that the fleet would have sent distress signals, and it wouldn’t be long before more reinforcements arrived. But then again, he pondered that being the proud warrior race; surely it would be an act of cowardice to send a distress signal for help? Would the Klingons view that as a sign of weakness and not bother to send distress signals, whilst accepting their fate? He dismissed the notion in an instant, focusing his near frozen mind on his navipad that kept prompting him to head north where there happened to be a mountain range with caves that would provide adequate shelter. The crash was far from the textbook landings he had learned in the academy days, with the loss of all hands except him. He started to wonder how much longer this strange turn of luck would hold. He had survived the onslaught of the Empire in orbit, where his ship, the Constitution, was no doubt a drifting, lifeless hulk. He had survived the possibility of being a prisoner of war. On top that he had survived a crash landing, cheating death yet again. Surely, there must be a commendation of valour, or medal of honour due from Starfleet upon his return, he mused. The blizzard had gotten even worse and he was down to zero visibility. His only salvation was the beeping device, which guided him ever closer to shelter, and had suddenly increased its intermittency tenfold. He had finally found the mountain ranges and before him he could make out the entrance of a cave. Although he had to dig a bit as the snow had covered some of the opening. Using his hands as a shovel, he moved through the snow faster and faster, until he felt a slight rumbling beneath his feet. Andy stopped to listen for the rumble, but it too had stopped, and as he continued to shift the snow, it gave way beneath his feet.
2380.
U.S.S. PHOENIX – EN ROUTE TO Q’ONOS.
CAPTAIN’S LOG: STARDATE APRIL 1ST 2380.
“Our mission to Ardana is seemingly littered with obstacles, and is fitting with the irony of today’s date! Not only are we being delayed due to the actions of two superior officers, but I am now without a Counsellor and an engineer. Counsellor Walker & Ensign Sodak were found unconscious in the Ensign’s quarters losing blood from their noses. They are currently stable & being monitored by Doctor Coey in sickbay. I just hope he can get to the bottom of the cause of their comatose state, although it is highly unlikely that any of the ship’s logical Vulcans will want to assist a v’tosh ka’tur. I could order an officer, but I will not go against free will, or risk whatever is affecting them, affecting any of the crew. If the Doc’s investigations bear no fruit, I feel my only other option is to pay a visit to Sodak’s parents on Vulcan. I am unsure of his relationship with them considering his abandonment of logic, so I hope that parental instincts will take precedence. I’m also concerned about the Doc and his conflict between his preferred traditional healing experience, and his clear dislike of working in what he quoted as ‘a god damn computer centre.’ I can only hope that he settles in & gets used to his new working environment.”
As the turbolift carried him to the Bridge, Ensign Rollings knew that until his Ops shift ended, this would be the last bit of peace he would experience. It’s not that he didn’t mind noise; it was just that he preferred the peace. His ears still hadn’t acclimatised to the cacophony that was normal on a starship bridge, and his ears were sensitive at the best of times, what with heightened sensory perception being a natural characteristic of a Vullian. Although similar in build to most humanoids, the only visible difference being heightened senses, and a ridge bisecting the face from the nose bridge to the skull base. Today though, his senses seemed more sensitive than normal, as the whirring of the turbolift was particularly noticeable, and seemed to be increasing.
Simon was in his Ready Room, going over the list of available missions for the Alpha Fleet. As he made his way through the current list, he mentally picked out the one’s that particularly peaked his interest. Amongst those were visits to Risa, Denobula, North Star, as well as a mapping of a stellar nursery, and aid missions to Cardassia. But he knew better than to get ahead of himself as he knew that things rarely went according to plan. The reality of starship Captaincy broke his train of thought, as Commander Davenport activated the internal comm channel. “Bridge to Captain Hodgkinson. We have crossed into Klingon space. Engineering are having problems maintaining a stable warp field. It appears to be being disrupted by an anomalous reading that’s off the chart. The emissions appear to be neutrino, but are such a large amount that I can only deduce they emanate from a large mass that is cloaked.” Simon leapt out his chair and headed for the Bridge, issuing commands as he replied. “Drop to hyper impulse. Shields up. Red alert!”
2245.
NORTHERN POLAR REGION, DONATU V.
When Andy came to he had the mother of all headaches. As he tried to open his eyes and stand up, bright lights glared as he found himself feeling a concrete surface as he attempted to get up. Next to him an old rusty door lay on the floor, and he couldn’t believe that his frame had booted through it, but then he felt the pain in his legs as he eventually found his feet, and began to explore. As he eyes came to he found himself in what could only be described as a massive underground hangar, as row after row of powerful spotlights began to illuminate the room. Then it hit him like a point blank phaser blast, as his eyes adjusted to take in the row after row of Klingon vessels. They all looked very similar to the D7 class battle cruiser, except more of a natural evolution of that model. It now all made sense why Donatu V was so important to the Klingons. It was a launching point for an all out assault on the Federation. The Klingons were preparing for invasion. Suddenly a klaxon started to blare with a repeating Klingon phrase that didn’t sound good at all. The temperature in the hangar dropped suddenly, and it felt to Andy that it was getting colder inside than it was outside, as he instantly froze where he stood.
2380.
U.S.S. PHOENIX, KLINGON SPACE.
Ensign Rollings emerged from the turbolift screaming whilst holding his ears. He dropped to the floor, doubling up in agony as Andy ran over to help. The Ops officer announced an incoming hail as on the viewscreen, a fleet of BattleBirds decloaked, clearly surrounding the Phoenix. Marax then replaced the image of his fleet with his face on the viewscreen. Ensign Rollings, grimacing in pain, suddenly rose to his feet, grabbing Andy’s neck whilst holding a serrated blade to it. Congratulating the surgically altered cleric, Marax laughed; “Well done Rokax, you have served me well. Captain, sorry to cause any inconvenience, but I require your first officer. Allow him to beam to my vessel, and your ship will be spared.” Immediately seeing his friend in trouble, and a security risk to the ship, Rez unholstered his phaser aiming it right between the abductors eyes. “Where is the real Ensign Rollings?” Rokax snarled and laughed, his hand twitching as the cool steel serrated edge pressed against the flesh of the Commander’s throat, threatening to pierce the jugular at any given moment. Simon gestured for Rez to back down, so that the agent wouldn’t feel threatened, and mindlessly kill his first officer. The moments seemed to play out in slow motion, as sweat poured profusely down his brow. His breathing laboured & heavy, Andy had nowhere to go, and any sudden movement to defend himself would deprive him & the ship of their lives. The odds were overwhelming as Simon realised that this was a no win situation, with no back door. “Drop shields” he ordered begrudgingly, as Commander Davenport disappeared in the Klingon transporter beam. The viewscreen changed to a view of the ships heading into warp. Before the Captain even mouthed the order, the Rhaanderite officer Labe shook his head at the findings of no traceable warp trail. ‘Rollings’, or Rokax was gobsmacked as he expected to be returned to his fellow clerics. He dropped to the floor, screaming as he held his ears as the synaptic device ruptured his pathways. He then lay motionless, his head resting in a pool of blood.
SOMEWHERE......
Kirsty could hear Sodak calling to her, but couldn’t make out which direction his voice came from. Surrounded by a mist that never seemed to clear, it felt like he was calling to her from all directions, as if he was all around her. The mists cleared and she could see both their bodies strapped to the biobeds, whilst the Doc was doing routine checks. There was no point shouting, screaming, or doing a dance as he wouldn’t be able to hear her, let alone see her. A familiar warmth coursed through her shoulder as Sodak placed a reassuring hand there. He seemed so calm, especially for a passionate Vulcan, yet she was completely the opposite. She tried to speak but couldn’t open her mouth and the words seemed to fade with a thought. Sodak faced her, and then she could hear his voice. He explained what she was experiencing, and what had led to them ending up in sickbay. He even joked that getting back to bed was a totally different concept then to what their bodies were experiencing now. They could see that the Doc was having no success in awakening them, and they both knew that he wouldn’t know as there wasn’t a precedent set for this. Sodak cursed the Vulcans for being so secretive with some aspects of their culture. As the Doc put them into stasis, Sodak hoped that the Captain would work out that the best people to deal with a Vulcan mystery, are Vulcans.
THE KLINGON BATTLEBIRD VENGEANCE – EN ROUTE TO DONATU V.
As he came to he found himself lying flat on a cold, metallic slab raised a couple of feet from the floor. One light filled the room which just happened to be glaring right in his line of sight, and obscuring the mutterings of other voices in the otherwise dark and damp room. A figure moved out of the darkness and into the light, bellowing. “Donatu five. The Conquerors. Captain Krase. The hidden dreadnought fleet. TALK!” Andy couldn’t understand apart from the fact that the Klingon had mentioned the planet that he had been found on encrusted in a slab of frozen ice. Then having to deal with reintegration, and starting his life from scratch, after 125 years. In reality, if he had lived he would have been either killed in duty with the Klingon & Federation skirmishes, or lived to a ripe age and see the end of the 23rd century. The heat from the lamp was stifling, and between coughs, and profusely sweating, Andy managed to find the courage in the face of adversity. “Donatu five was my frozen coffin for a century. A coffin which had caused me memory loss.....why i never even knew i had a wife and child god dammit!!” The tall, stocky, and maniacal looking Klingon introduced himself. “I am the High Priest of Boreth, and in the scrolls of the prophesised all encompassing Klingon Empire, you are known as The Defiant One. You stand in our way, but you are also key to the prophecy coming true.” Two clerics attached a bowl with various wires and aerials emanating from it, to Andy’s head whilst he struggled, and switched it on. An uncomfortable, tingling sensation rippled through his head as the probe fired the intrusive waves in its interrogation for the long buried memories of past events, which the Klingon cleric operating the machine sought. The convulsing and uncontrollable spasms stopped as he fell into a trance like state. In unpleasant situations, Starfleet officers were trained to focus on certain memories or timelines, such as their length of service, and relay it from scratch. The psychologists and counsellors called it removing oneself from harm, but Andy called it psychobabble. Still, if it was going to take his mind off whatever painful treatments were about to happen, or worse still, possible paralysation, it would be of some comfort. Lowering his heart rate, he began reeling off the dates starting from when he joined Starfleet Academy. “....promotion to Commander, first officer of the U.....S..............................S..... Constitution.....” The probe had searched deep within the recesses of the mind whilst being operated by one of the clerics, until they had found what they were looking. Sharply brought forward from the darkest corners of the subconscious, the memory played out as if Andy was experiencing it for the first time, although that wasn’t the case. He babbled like a madman as he uttered words he had exchanged in the yacht with Admiral Jeffries over a century ago. “Picking us off......a floating hulk.....Rura Penthe......prisoners of war......emp weapon.........gotcha!.....” Marax smiled as the approximate location of the dreadnought hangar was revealed, and planned to take the prisoner down with the landing party, & his entire followers. The battlecruisers would need to be checked over before they were powered up, and even the human would have his uses until his execution.
