YES - Close to the Edge: Star Beagle Adventures episodes 12 - 19
- Thread starter Robert Bruce Scott
- Start date
Glad you liked that little trope and thanks for the kind words!
While a lot of fans immediately admired the cold logic of Spock, I always felt that both Nemoy and the writers were always offering a critique of the cold, dispassionate thinker. Nemoy created an apparently dispassionate character who was always quietly laughing up his sleeve. John Sevork is very similar
That was a frustration particularly about Voyager. Stuck out in unfriendly territory, but somehow always having a full complement of photon torpedoes and enough shuttlecraft to crash a dozen of them...
Turns out that was as much a frustration for the writers as for the fans. The writers desperately wanted to show a grungy, deteriorating Voyager just barely making it from one challenge to the next, but the producers were concerned that would be too much for the fans.
Thanks!! rbs
Eventually I will repost Hunter to the updated Ad Astra. Glad you're going back through it - I'm rather proud of that series. Thanks!! rbs
The Star Beagle Adventures
Episode 13: Close to the Edge Part II - Total Mass Retain
Scene 7: The Lift
Down at the end, close by a river…
13.7
The Lift
The Lift
There was something hypnotic about the Pattiseema Lift, linking the Godavari and Krishna rivers, just a few kilometers west of where each emptied into the Bay of Bengal. Flight specialist Maya Davi had rowed up and down this canal many times with her mother when she was a girl, checking for erosion along the banks, charting the flow of the muddy brown waters.
The boat was one that the Davi family had built and rebuilt using the same tools and techniques that their ancestors had used for thousands of years. It was a point of pride that this knowledge had been passed down for so many generations. The art of boat making, the materials used, everything had changed over and over. Not just updates of old techniques… technological revolutions.
But old ways or new, old boat or new didn’t make much difference to the work that the Davi family had been doing for generations: The Davi family minded the Lift. The water needed to be sampled, the banks needed constant attention, the wildlife needed to be catalogued, the irrigation canals that sprang off the Lift required regular measurement.
Slowly rowing up and down the Lift was the best way to catalogue all of these items and more. For Maya it had been a long, wonderful dream, at least in retrospect. As the youngest child, her job was to transcribe her mother’s notes. Her older brother and two older sisters rowed. Her father steered the boat. Her mother used a variety of sensors to measure the banks.
Those long, straight banks made it clear that this was no naturally occurring river. Most of the Lift was so straight that it was like a road, stretching from horizon to horizon without a single bend.
A road of brown, muddy water. Carrying natural nutrients, making vast stretches of what was once barren lands into fertile farmland.
“Labeo fimriatus… Maya! Write it down!” Maya’s mother often had to rouse Maya from her daydreams. The Lift was so hypnotic to look upon.
Maya scribbled the Linnaean taxonomy into the wildlife notebook, followed by: “Fringed-lipped carp.” And prepared for the inevitable lecture:
“It’s a big one, 122 centimeters! So good to see such a big specimen. You know that these fish, along with a few endangered varieties of turtles moved into the Lift shortly after it was dredged. The Lift was only meant to be a temporary solution before other canals were made. But the endangered species made it their home and did so well here, with some management, that they were taken off the endangered list. And so was the Lift. They quite literally saved each other.” Maya’s mother loved telling this story.
“Honey, I know you don’t want to be a river biologist. Or canal engineer. Just try to focus on the here and now.”
Maya looked up in surprise. This was something her mother had never said. Eventually her two eldest brothers had both married scientists and the legacy of the Davi family was secured. But not before she had enlisted in Star Fleet, at age 17, just to get as far away from the Lift as possible. And now she was back here.
“This is the lesson the Lift has to teach you, Maya,” her mother shrimp said. Maya had no idea how such a huge creature could possibly fit into the Davi family boat. It would have looked far more harmonious simply enjoying the water of the Lift. She also had no idea how this creature could possibly be her mother.
“This canal, linking two vital rivers, has new tributaries added all the time. New irrigation lines. It takes constant upkeep. And the people taking care of the Lift are not the same people who built it.”
Maya’s mother shrimp reached out with a whisker and gently stroked Maya’s hair. Maya had always loved it when her mother stroked her hair. “You ran away and joined Star Fleet to leave the Lift behind. And here, billions of light years from your home, you have come back to the Lift. You have to learn to appreciate your life and appreciate your destiny. The Lift must be cared for. And if cared for properly, it will provide new homes and new opportunities for endangered species…”
“Including yours.”
13.7
I had similar frustrations.
Funnily enough, not a million miles away from the Krank/Carter plot here, one of my favourite Voyager moments (which was a sadly small list) was Tuvok/Seven’s storyline in the Year of Hell episodes. Seven ends up having to blind Tuvok to save the ship. Then, racked with guilt, she sort of becomes his seeing eye dog on top of all of her other responsibilities. Alas, that showed dangerous amounts of character development, so the whole thing was reset button-ed away and the two characters went back to barely saying two words to each other every week. 
It has been pointed out to me that a surprising variety of intelligent mushrooms show up as antagonists/protagonists in my stories... Thanks!! rbs
I know. Ever since ST:Hunter, I've never been able to look at a king oyster in quite the same way.
Or a king bolete. They are cute as a button. No horse shiitake.
-Will
-Will
Glad you're enjoying the bits of humor sprinkled in with the horror...Still loving Krank
The Star Beagle Adventures
Episode 13: Close to the Edge Part II - Total Mass Retain
Scene 8: Life On The Edge
Close to the edge, round by the corner…
13.8
Life On The Edge
Life On The Edge
“Of course the most invasive species that we are intimately familiar with is… anybody?”
The biology class was one of many pre-med track classes at Upper South Trantor Preparatory, a school located near the top of one of the tallest, most massive skyscrapers in the City of Trantor on Cun Ling, the artificial planet that was only now beginning to realize a significant portion of its population potential. The school was far from exclusive; it was a tributary for the University of Upper South Trantor, itself not an “Ivy League” (whatever that meant) school. Like all universities that included the words “of” and “Trantor,” UUST was a public university, open to everyone.
One of the many andorian students said, brightly, “Homo sapiens!”
“Correct!” Professor Joza inhaled deeply, savoring the steam that exuded from the cup attached to her chest. Few people realized that the Benzites did not require this steam to survive in standard atmospheres. The steam recycled directly from their lungs helped these extraordinarily intelligent blue people maintain a stable internal temperature and humidity, which, in turn, excited neurotransmitters that enhanced their already considerable native intelligence.
Kara Garrity was, predictably, annoyed. As one of only 27 human students in this school largely populated with andorian teachers and students, she felt oddly out of place within a city that sported the highest concentration of humans anywhere in the galaxy. She was at this school because her grades did not qualify her for any other school anywhere near her home. Most of those had large populations of andorians as well. Upper South Trantor had a very large andorian population. Minuscule compared to their human neighbors, but still the largest concentration of andorians anywhere outside of their home moon.
“What about the Borg?” Kara asked.
“Would anyone like to answer?” Professor Joza asked.
“They’re not a species,” one of the more annoying andorian students answered.
“Correct,” Joza replied. “The Borg are not a species. Like the Federation, the Borg are a culture composed of several subject species. Even more subject species than are in the Federation.”
“Member species in the Federation are not subjugated!” Kara exclaimed.
“This is a biology class, not a civics class,” Joza responded, “But, for the sake of clarity, every student in this room, and me as well, we are all part of the population of Cun Ling, a full member planet in the Federation. Are we not all, famously, equally subject to Federation law? Full membership requires that planetary law be subject and subsumed under the Federation Tribunal.”
Kara Garrity had no response to this. She sat in her seat and stewed. Indeed it was the next day after this conversation that she had left home, taken a tram to the local Star Fleet base in Central Trantor and enlisted.
“So you see,” Professor Shrimp continued, “You, too, have been subjugated. Just because you were born into subjugation and raised to admire the system to which you are subject, even to believe that, because it was founded in large part by your ancestors, that it is your birthright, you have, nonetheless, been subjugated.”
Kara continued to stew, hoping against hope that her gigantic crustacean professor would not continue to elaborate.
“There have been many master species such as the humans," Professor Shrimp elaborated. "But humanity is very interesting. Your dominance is carefully disguised. You consider yourselves as first among equals. It is both amusing and quite clever. And, quite possibly, supremely successful. The various subjects of your human empire can look at what subjugation to other empires would look like and find their current yoke far more acceptable.”
“I am equal…” Kara started, then her voice trailed off in confusion and some embarrassment.
“Equal to a vulcan?” Professor Shrimp asked. “They are stronger and smarter than you and live nearly twice as long. An andorian? They’re much faster than you and far more sensitive to light, sound, and, especially, balance. And yet, largely thanks to your much, much larger populations, you humans dominate your Federation.”
The giant professor reached out with an antenna and tapped Chief Medical Technician Kara Garrity’s arm. “If you are too comfortable in your illusions, you will miss the dangers around you. Such as the fungus growing in Eva Mendez’s jaw…
Kara’s eyes opened wide. “What?”
“It is the same species that invaded this ship a few weeks ago,” the giant shrimp explained. “The spores exist partly in subspace. They have gotten into a lot of things, but by far the most dangerous is their colonization of Eva’s weakened jaw. They are a very invasive species…”
13.8
The Star Beagle Adventures
Episode 13: Close to the Edge Part II - Total Mass Retain
Scene 9: The Startled Memory
Sudden call shouldn’t take away the startled memory…
13.9
The Startled Memory
The Startled Memory
Lieutenant Commander Zizira Gross was horrified. She had always been somewhat afraid of Captain Rhonda Carter, but now the witch had finally come into her own. Bolians were a practical people. Not believers in magic or spells or witchcraft. Those were just stories to excite young children.
And stories children told younger children to frighten them.
After contact with the humans, and their scary campfire stories, the stories of witches in particular had really spiced up bolian storytelling. But the stories didn’t hold a candle to the living reality.
Gross wasn’t certain why there was now a bubbling cauldron where the command chair should be, or how all the bridge monitors had been altered to display spells and various arcane symbols. All glowing and none of them actually on the screens, but hovering, like holograms, just in front of the screens. Except there were no holographic projectors on the bridge of the U.S.S. Escort.
Carter’s back was to Gross, which she considered very satisfactory. Well, it would have been far more satisfactory if Carter had simply not been here on the bridge.
Scratch that, Gross thought. It would be much more satisfactory if she was, herself, pretty much anywhere else.
Carter’s electric blue hair was floating about as if she were in zero G. No - there was more of a pattern to the movement of her hair. As if her hair was somehow prehensile and was making arcane signals of its own.
Gross wanted to flee, but Carter was chanting. It sounded like the chanting of the Holy Warrior who had held everyone on Escort in thrall, particularly Gross. But unlike the Warrior’s song, the lyrics to this song were in some ancient, arcane, unholy Earth language that the universal translator was unable or unwilling to provide translation for.
The song kept Gross rooted where she stood, terrified. A bolian, Gross had always wondered about the human aphorism, “My hair was standing on end…” Gross didn’t have any hair. But she suddenly understood the idiom. If she had any hair, it would have been standing on end. Her skin prickled, as if she were electrified. She was wrenching about, trying to fight against her frozen muscles.
Gross was hoping that she had not actually been noticed. Hoping against hope that Carter would not turn around. Particularly since, in addition to stirring whatever unholy potion was bubbling in the gigantic black cauldron in the middle of the bridge and occasionally tending the roaring fire underneath it, the wild, blue-haired witch had taken to levitating just a few inches above the deck plates on the bridge.
Of course, simply thinking about how terrifying it would be if Rhonda Carter were to turn around, how much she really did not want to be seen by her, nothing was more likely to make the witch turn. Like a freezer door opening. Causing a deep chill to run up Gross’s spine.
Of course the arcane symbols on her face were now glowing. Far worse were the eyes - brightly glowing orbs of solid, bright blue… And she was still singing, the song holding Zizira Gross frozen in place…
Gross struggled against the spell. She still couldn’t move, but she finally found her voice. “Wh… Why are you doing this? Why are you doing this to me?”
“To stop you,” Carter said, simply.
That was the creepiest of all. Carter didn’t stop singing, nor did she work the spoken words into her song. There weren’t two of her and she didn’t have two mouths. Zizira Gross could simply see her captain speaking and singing at the same time. Not two images superimposed over each other. Just one unified impossibility.
Gross swallowed. Hard. Then: curious… “Stop me from what?”
“From stopping me,” said the singing shrimp-witch.
The Escort’s first officer took a sudden breath, looking into the glowing eyes of a giant shrimp that could not have possibly fit on the bridge, but, somehow, did.
Gross managed to raise her hand. Pointed a trembling finger at the sorcerous crustacean:
“…It’s YOU!! I KNOW you!!…”
13.9
Well, two very interesting scenes. I especially enjoyed the classroom banter. I could almost feel Kara's guilty discomfort.
Giant shrimp sure change the perspective on the Earth idiom about being shrimpy.
Also, humans are use to being slower and weaker than a lot of other fellow Earthlings. We are not use to not being the smartest, as a group, nor are we use to being the most prolific natally, only successfully. If we can't adapt to a new environment, we adapt that environment to us.
Bring along a jacket and an HVAC unit, we're going into space.
-Will
Giant shrimp sure change the perspective on the Earth idiom about being shrimpy.
Also, humans are use to being slower and weaker than a lot of other fellow Earthlings. We are not use to not being the smartest, as a group, nor are we use to being the most prolific natally, only successfully. If we can't adapt to a new environment, we adapt that environment to us.
Bring along a jacket and an HVAC unit, we're going into space.
-Will
When I started writing the Star Trek Hunter series (and also this series) I was blissfully unaware of the population implosion causing populations in technologically advanced nations, particularly in Asia, to crater. We are still on track for a global population of about 10-11 billion, thanks largely to Africa.
But I did put a line somewhere in STH that humans, denobulans and vulcans had conspired to create economic and cultural conditions to encourage human population growth as a bulwark against other aggressive species. So that is the trek-verse I am still writing in.
I had also never envisioned the U.S. military as anything other than the good guys, an assumption that is no longer assured, given our current political climate. But that is still the trek-verse I am, perhaps far too optimistically, writing in.
Thanks!! rbs
It is a vision of the future that makes Star Trek my preferred sci-fi series. The gritty, everyone is corrupt, power is for the power hungry, dystopia, is too much the norm.
-Will
The Star Beagle Adventures
Episode 13: Close to the Edge Part II - Total Mass Retain
Scene 10: All the Way
All in all, the journey takes you all the way…
13.10
All the Way
All the Way
Abra Kahen rested on her elbows. And on the extremely fit and handsome young man underneath her.
He claimed to be a prince. Prince Dahar. He was certainly handsome enough for it. They were both dancers, exceptionally fit, extremely flexible, and, at this moment, finally sated, if quite exhausted.
Prince Dahar (he insisted on being called “Prince,” but he didn't like honorifics such as “Your Highness” or “Sire”) traced his young lover’s face with a finger. Abra was exceptionally pretty and quite skilled with makeup. And barely 18.
“I’ve waited so long for this,” he said, softly. “So lovely…”
Abra sat up and took his hands in hers. Gently kissed and suckled his fingertips. One at a time.
She laced her fingers with his, came down to her elbows again and studied his face. He was so incredibly fit. But fine lines on his face betrayed his age. He wasn’t a boy. Or even a young man. That didn’t matter so much, really. He was the star dancer of the Tiruppur Agni Yuvraj Nritya Atithi, a dance company that had, according to legend, been founded by the local royal family more than 800 years ago.
While the company was charged with keeping traditional dance forms alive, the family who had founded the company were, as the name of the company implied, fascinated with fire dancing. And Prince Dahar was the best. And Abra had been his student for 6 years. And had been hopelessly in love with him that entire time.
Today was the end of a dream come true.
Abra knew she was only the most recent in the long line of beautiful young dancers who had graced the prince’s bed. Four months was the average length of these torrid affairs, but it was really driven by the birthdate of the next young dancer he had his nets out for. For Abra, that next date was about two months away. Many of his former lovers stayed with the dance company and even occasionally shared his bed again. Others would join other dance troupes, often traveling troupes. These women also occasionally returned. And not for bad reason. The prince was really, really good in bed.
But Abra was not going to be another of his has-beens. She had used him to learn her own arts of pleasuring.
She kissed Prince Dahar’s nose, then sat up again. “Will you see me off tomorrow?”
“Off to where?” the prince asked in confusion. “Are you going to visit relatives?”
She leaned down and kissed him again. “No, silly. Off to war.”
“War? What are you talking about?”
“The klingons have attacked one of our colonies, my dear prince. We are at war. I have enlisted in Star Fleet. Aren’t you going?”
Prince Dahar was stunned. He fumbled about for words. He finally settled for: “But what about us?”
Kahen laughed. “Us? There is no us. There never was. Only you and your desires… And me and mine.”
Dahar started to say one thing. Then started another. His confusion was almost comical.
“Oh, you are a wonderful lover. And when I was 14 years old I used to tear myself apart fantasizing about you. But I see you. I know you. I’ve known you for some time. I was happy for our time together. You taught me more than you realize. You taught me to dance. You taught me how to handle fire. You taught me how to make love. And you taught me how to see through other people’s lies. To see people for who they really are, not just what they want you to believe.”
Abra Kahen leapt lithely out of bed, happily displaying her beautiful, young, naked body before donning some diaphanous robes that covered without concealing, somehow making her even more alluring.
She smiled at the enormous royal shrimp that was far too big for the bed it was reclining in.
“I made love to my prince one more time. I was rewarding him for teaching me such a valuable lesson. But you are not my prince. I see you, Stephanie. I see you for who and what you really are.”
“Once you have been used the way that I was used, you either willingly blind yourself, or you promise yourself to never be fooled again.”
Princess Stephanie had nothing to say. She could only observe the humble Star Fleet NCO with some confusion and only a dawning appreciation that these people might not be so simple as at first they had appeared.
13.10
I fell it building. The question now is, how violently will it explode?
It's like watching the college co-ed alone in her room wearing just her underwear and a long men's shirt, settle in with freshly made popcorn, to watch a movie while, somewhere, a stalker haunts the sorority house.
-Will
It's like watching the college co-ed alone in her room wearing just her underwear and a long men's shirt, settle in with freshly made popcorn, to watch a movie while, somewhere, a stalker haunts the sorority house.
-Will
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