By Shadowlander
Notes – Okay a word or two of warning; first off this is major
alternate universe. So don't be worried if you do not have the faintest idea on
what is happening just yet I will explain things in future parts. This is just to see if anyone is willing to
read this little monster I have planned or not. : )
Dedication – To Quin who told me it couldn't be done - and
naturally I just had to prove him wrong about it. To Bill and Carol who not only liked the idea but continued to
demand more detailed notes about the series.
And to Kimber - this just may be the fic I get grounded over. ::rotfl::
Spoilers – Everything is fair game - but mostly it's an alternate
universe piece, just further proof that I do not handle boredom well.
Summary: Three alternate
universes have come together to form one, now one ship and crew have to fix it.
Feedback – Shadowlander1@coastalnet.com
- or - Tankesly@rocketmail.com
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“Please tell me you are here to
relieve me?” Douglas Ramsey asked the tall dark haired woman that just stepped
off of the turbo lift and on to the bridge, mischief clear in his blue eyes as
he suppressed a tired yawn. He hated
night watch especially when it was his turn to supervise the monitoring of some
random dwarf star in a remote sector of space. Eight hours of watching a
nameless star make colourful designs on his sensor board, while he wasn’t
absolutely sure, he just knew watching paint dry would be a hell of a lot more
entertaining.
Cordelia Chase stopped in her
tracks, cocking her head to one side to regard the young man, “Actually... no,”
she said in a sickingly sweet voice enjoying the defeated groan she got in
return. She just couldn’t
help herself sometimes Doug was
just too easy to torture, almost as fun as that loser back at the Academy...
Harris something or other.
“Just kill me now,” he replied
banging his head on his console in defeat, just what he needed another eight
hours of staring at meaningless energy emissions from a star he had secretly
begun calling “the death dwarf.”
“Cordy, quit torturing him, he’s
had a rough night,” Kitty Pryde said with a laugh from the helm station,
“Blinky has been the most uncooperative of dwarf stars lately. Doug is almost positive it was telling dirty
jokes about a tribble, a targ and a Romulan last night.” She teased referring
to Doug Ramsey’s unique ability to understand any written or spoken language,
which was a reason most of the crew called him Cypher.
Whatever Cordelia was going to say
was interrupted by a shearing pain shooting through her skull, as if someone
was hitting her repeatedly over the head with a photon torpedo. With a strangled cry she collapsed to the
ground, her fall only being broken by Doug as he spun out of his seat and
caught her before she hit the deck.
“What the hell is going on?”
Commander William Blood demanded jumping over the tactical railing that
separated the upper bridge containing the weapons, engineering and
environmental stations from the rest of what was jokingly called the “pit”
containing the helm’s and operation’s stations. He had been quietly listening to the three banter back and forth
before shift change, something that had become almost a ritual on the
ship. While it may not have been
strictly by the book, it did help to bring the rather young crew together as a
team.
“Not sure... we were just
talking,” Ramsey replied checking for a pulse with one hand.
With a groan Cordelia opened her
eyes settling her gaze on the Commander leaning over her. “Spike,” she whispered in fear before
passing out.
“She called you Spike?” Captain
Erik Lensherr questioned his long-time friend with an arched eyebrow. Unsure what to make of the recent turn of
events, he had been in his ready room going over the mountain of reports from
Starfleet Command that always seemed to pile up on his desk when he wasn’t
looking, when the call of a medical team to report to the bridge sounded over
the ship’s intercom.
“Aye mate,” came the reply from
the Commander, “no one has called me that in over fifteen years, not since we
shut down Maggie Walsh and her little Initiative program.” He finished with a sneer, his hatred for the
long dead woman and her “genetic experiments” clear in his voice.
“I know old friend and no one
outside of the Brotherhood even calls you by that name now,” the white haired
Captain agreed with a nod, forcing aside memories of the inhuman experiments
conducted in the name of science by the deceased Walsh. He had lost a lot of good friends thanks to
that woman and her mad plan to make humans the most powerful species in the
galaxy. He still woke up at night
reliving the day his best friend died in his arms thanks to that woman. He had sworn that day to get them all out of
that hellhole and shut the lab down for good. Because he was a mutant Walsh had
reserved the most heinous experiments for him, trying in vain to reproduce his
talent of magnetism. “That name has
never been spoken on this ship... so where did Cordelia hear it?” he wondered
aloud, knowing that Starfleet Security had classified the whole incident
determined to keep the unsanctioned project far from the public’s eyes as
possible. More out of respect for the
people that lost their lives thanks to the renegade scientist, then to cover
their own failure in not discovering and shutting down the program before Erik
Lensherr led a revolt capturing the lab and all the scientists.
“There is more mate, Rahne says
the chit was terrified of me,” William Blood reported shifting uncomfortably at
the thought. While he did like to be
feared, he was the great big bad after all, he didn’t like that fear coming
from “his” kids, the cadets in the Academy’s “hands-on” training program. Torturing ensigns and green JGs was another
matter, they were supposed to know that was going on, and were fair game for
the legendary temper of William “Spike” Blood.
Besides he knew full well that his Captain would have no problem with
beaming him into the nearest sun if he even thought of giving the cadets too
much of a hard time during their first deep space mission.
“Terrified?” Erik questioned his
silver gray eyes hardening a bit. “Did you?” he asked making a motion with his
hand over his face.
“No! That insane first officer of ours would put holy water in my
blood if I even thought about growling at the kids,” came the response,
“besides I’m not in all that big a hurry to get a suntan.” No matter how many
times he was told that the personal force field surrounding him would protect
him from the effects of direct sunlight, he was still a bit leery about
actually moving around in broad daylight, a little nagging voice in the back of
his head telling him that the field could fail and he would be a walking torch
in seconds.
For the first time in several
hours Lensherr found himself smiling at his friend’s words. ‘I have a vampire
as tactical officer,’ he told himself once again awed by the fact that not only
do the legendary creatures of the night really exists; but one of them is like
a brother to him. “Don’t worry William,
I’ll protect you from the wrath of Natasha Yar.”
“Oh sure... like she's afraid of
you,” the white- blonde haired Commander replied with a smirk. Knowing full well that the human first
officer wasn’t scared of any mutant, alien, demon, or vampire, no matter how
powerful they were. While a part of the
centuries old vampire respected that about the human, another found if
infuriating. Especially when he would attack her in full game face and she
would still wipe the deck with him, sometimes he was sure she had to be a
Slayer. She just had to; no human was
that strong without a little help from some supernatural force.
Doctor Beverly Crusher looked up
as the Captain and the vampire approached her, noting once again how much the
two really did look related to one another. ‘Must be the hair and eyes,’ she
reasoned before shaking off her wondering thoughts.
“How is she?” Lensherr asked
coming to a stop beside the bed holding the young woman in question.
“She’s in a near catatonic
state... almost like she is under some kind of telepathic attack,” the auburn
haired doctor reported in a steady calm voice, putting her hands in her medical
jacket. It never failed if you wanted
to be in the coldest place on a starship, go to sickbay it was always a degree
or two cooler there.
“Telepathic attack? Cordelia is not a mutant or even part
Betazed,” the Captain commented with a frown.
“And she has no sign of being
psychic either, but she is showing all the signs of experiencing some type of
telepathic communication... her brainwaves are off the scale,” the chief
medical officer commented gesturing to the bio-sensor mounted to the wall over
the head of the bed.
“What the devil is going on?”
Lensherr questioned his eyes hardening as he looked at the near meaningless
display for a moment. Someone or
something was attacking a member of his crew and he didn’t like it... he wanted
answers and he wanted them now.
“Maybe I can explain that,” a new
voice said as a stranger appeared in the nearly empty sickbay effectively
getting everyone's attention. Out of
instinct the vampire called William Blood let his demon face surface taking a
defensive posture between the three humans and the stranger. A deeper growl following his, as the young,
medic who had been coming around the corner from one of the labs, shifted forms
from human to werewolf ready to pounce at a moments notice onto the intruder.
“Security to sickbay!” Crusher
called out moving closer to her patient to protect her from the intruder who
was dressed rather outlandishly.
“I assure you that I'm not here to
harm anyone... my name is Whistler and I need your help.”
“You did this to one of our crew
and THEN you want our help!” Commander
Blood growled in outrage, his demon roaring for the blood of the garishly
dressed creature in front of him. Out
of the corner of his yellow/gold eyes he could see the werewolf, Rahne moving
into position ready to take the intruder down at his signal.
“Steady,” Lensherr ordered
expending his magnetic force field around the bed its occupant and the doctor
ensuring that they would, at least, be safe if there was going to be any
fighting. “You have five minutes...make sure you get to your point for boarding
my ship without permission.”
******************************
{Security
to Sickbay}
Commander
Natasha Yar looked up from the science station with a frown as the words
sounded over the ship's intercom. ‘Now what?’ she asked herself, quickly
closing out the screen she had been looking over of the latest readings from
the dwarf star they had been monitoring.
Within seconds she was looking at a new screen, this one displaying what
was happening in sickbay, sometimes it was good being the first officer.
“What is that supposed to be?” the
security officer, manning the tactical station, questioned having also accessed
the onboard security monitoring logs from his post. “Commander the intruder
appears to be human,” the officer reported after a moment, “a rather colour
blind human.” He couldn’t help but add, wondering if humans really did dress
like that or if the intruder was some type of deviant that escaped from a
mental asylum.
******************************
The vampire growled lowly at
Whistler, absently noting that the intruder looked like something out of an old
pornographic movie from the late 1970s.
The security chief hated that decade, considering disco to be one of the
most heinous forms of torture ever devised by mankind, and to think it was his
kind that was considered to be evil. “Out with it you wanker, I haven’t eaten
today,” he growled, eager to drain the walking fashion disaster after he amused
himself with torturing him for a couple of hours first. Granted the ship’s doctor may not be too
happy about all the blood and mangled corpse he would leave behind, but Spike
was pretty sure he could distract the redhead with a smile or two.
Rahne Sinclair settled into a
crouch ready to pounce, her enhanced senses working in overdrive; trying to
assess the influx of information coming at her from all directions. The air was heavy with the scent of magic,
‘White magic’, she noted almost absently, cocking her head to one side to
observe the dissipating portal Whistler had stepped through to get on the
ship. As for Whistler himself, the
young werewolf noted the faint glow around the oddly dressed little man, to her
senses he radiated a power that seemed to be a cross between good and evil.
“I was sent by The Powers That Be,
they want your help in fixing something”, Whistler said, after a moment
silently cursing his luck in getting this assignment, he just knew that these
people he was supposed to be working with were going to be difficult.
“And that would be?” Magneto
asked, growing impatient and if he was getting restless, he knew that Spike and
Rahne were just about ready to jump out of their respective skins and kill
something or someone.
“The universe”, came the
soft-spoken reply.
Silence reigned in sickbay for
nearly a minute, “Okay, can I kill him now?” the vampire asked suitably
unimpressed.
“Explain,” Lensherr growled,
choosing to ignore his security chief for the moment. While on one hand he was more then willing to feed this intruder
to the vampire, on the other he would be no closer to finding out what was
happening to Cordelia if he did. His
first responsibility was to his crew, besides he could always let the vampire
have him later, once Cordelia was on her feet again.
After a deep breath to steady
himself, he just knew it was going to be a long day, Whistler began,
“Approximately ten thousand years ago there was an accident... something that
should of never of happened, happened. Five very powerful demons from across
time joined forces and tried to overthrow TPTB; only they failed. Instead of replacing the Powers they tore a
hole in the space/time continuum that had disastrous effects. Three universes
were instantly destroyed because of this, as a quick fix TPTB combined the
remnants of the three universes into one, to stop further contamination of the
space/time continuum. This reality is
the result of the tear, this ship and crew are not supposed to exist.”
“This git is out of his damn
mind”, William Blood growled, deciding that he was going to kill the badly
dressed interloper slowly and painfully, already picking out the rail road
spikes from his vast collection to do the torturing with. “He still hasn’t
explained what he did to Chase...let me and Rahney have him for a bit, we'll
get some answers out of him.”
“In her proper universe, Cordelia
Chase works for TPTB, she is a seer that acts as the link to the Powers for a
souled vampire trying to find redemption for his past crimes. In order for you to fix this mess, you are
going to need a link to the Powers as well...”
“And Cordelia gets volunteered”,
Beverly Crusher cut in with a sneer, crossing her arms over her chest and
giving Whistler a dirty look. “Although I doubt she is going to be much use to
us like she is right now.” She didn’t care about any accidents that happened
ten thousand years ago or the fact that the life she was living was apparently
wrong, all that mattered was that one of her patients was in a near catatonic state. She was half tempted to let the vampire
torture and kill the little man, hell she may even watch and take notes.
“Her current condition is due to
the interference of one of the demons that caused this mess in the first
place. The last thing the five demons
in question want is for all of this to be fixed, to go back and face judgment
for their acts.”
“And exactly where can we find
this dead little demon?” Spike interrupted with an evil look in his eyes. ‘We
kill the bugger responsible for putting Cordelia in sickbay, then this
worthless git’, he decided firmly.
“Cordelia will be the one to lead
you to him and all the others, but first...” Whistler said, indicating the
unconscious young woman on the bed with a nod of his head.
“If you can get her out of her
current state do so... but slowly one false move and you will pray for death,”
Lensherr growled, after a moment seeing no other way out of the strange
situation he and his crew had just been placed in by these mysterious Powers That
Be.
Whistler moved over to the bed,
careful to keep his hands in plain sight knowing without a doubt that the
vampire and werewolf would be more then happy to tear him apart. Waving his hand over the still form on the bed,
the badly dressed little man give Lensherr a little grin and disappeared in a
flash of light, leaving a furious master of magnetism and two creatures of the
night determined more then ever to have his head, behind.
“I am beginning to hate him,”
Rahne growled, her eyes flashing with barely contained rage.
A movement on the bed got
everyone's attention as Cordelia slowly drifted back toward consciousness.
“Hmmm... what happened?” she questioned after a moment wondering how she got in
Sickbay, the last thing she remembered was being on the bridge about to relieve
Doug Ramsey at the Operations Station.
Natasha Yar prowled when she was
nervous or irritated, that was one of the things William Blood first noted
about the executive officer shortly after meeting her... well that and she was
one of the craziest humans he had ever met.
Only a nut would be willing to cross a Carnellian minefield to grab a
wounded colonist, especially when the very same Carnellians, who installed the
damn thing in the first place, are shelling the hell out of the colony in
question at the time. Not that he would
have left the luckless git, who got himself caught out there, to die but he
seriously doubted he would have deliberately set off the minefield either. Although the vampire did have to admit it
was a rather interesting way to destroy the advancing Carnellian artillery, not
to mention get yourself singed in the process.
The vampire security chief was brought
out of his silent musings on the first officer’s apparent lack of sanity, by
the arrival of the little redhead that served as acting chief engineer of the
ship. “Apologizes Captain... I was unavoidably detained by a possessed plasma
injector,” Acting-Lieutenant Willow Rosenberg said taking her seat next to the
bleached blonde vampire, absently brushing a lock of hair behind her ear.
“Oh come on... I thought we got
rid of that little imp,” Doug Ramsey groaned banging his head on the tabletop,
knowing that whenever the redhead used words like “possessed” or “demonic”
chances are she meant exactly what she said.
“Oh we did... he just left us a
little surprise in the warp injector is all,” she assured the young man, a
mischievous glint in her eyes as she thought of the look on the imp’s face the
next time he tried to cast any magic. ‘Teach that little bastard to mess with
my engines,’ she thought smugly, taking a moment to enjoy her little revenge on
the pintsize troublemaker that caused so much mischief a few weeks ago. The engineering staff was still resetting
the environmental controls in some of the unoccupied compartments of the
massive ship.
“Willow... we aren’t going to be
getting any complaints from the Avalon Consul are we?” Captain Lensherr asked,
with an arched eyebrow, he knew the devious mind that lurked behind the
innocent smile of his Chief Engineer.
“No... at least I don’t think
so. I doubt they could trace it back to
the ship,” Willow replied honestly, still miffed over the imp’s partial
immunity from prosecution as the son of Avalon’s Ambassador to the
Federation. All the trouble the spoiled
little imp caused and there wasn’t a thing they could do about it because
‘daddy’ was an Ambassador.
“Red... what did you do?” the
vampire asked, not liking that smug little look in her eyes one bit.
“Nothing... I just made sure that
the next time he used any of his magic his father the ambassador would know
it.”
“Exactly how?” the captain found
himself asking, realizing once again that the young officer had all the making
of a very competent officer or one really good thief, either way he was glad
she was on his staff., where he could keep an eye on her.
“By turning him neon green,” the
redhead replied with a straight face.
“I’ll make the arrangements for
acting-Lieutenant Rosenberg’s alibi Captain,” Commander Yar commented dryly
with a slight smirk, silently wishing to be there when the annoying little snot
turned his father neon green. “She’s been recovering from a mild bout of the
Batezed influenza and hasn’t had the energy to cast any spells lately.” She
said after a moment, her mind going over everything she had learned from her
mentor in the occult Rupert Giles. The
British Historian being the person who had taught her how to read when she was
a terrified, ‘tough-as-nails’ fifteen year old that escaped the horrors of her
home world. There were times he had to
run her out of the ship’s library as she poured over every book she could get
her hands on.
“I’ll make the proper notations in
her medical record,” Doctor Crusher agreed, rubbing her temples tiredly, she
could see the Avalon Ambassador now turning bright neon green in the middle of
the Federation Council Hall. While the
image wasn’t all that distasteful to her, she felt the Ambassador to be a
bigger pain-in-the ass then his son, she couldn’t get the added image of him
inexplicably wearing traditional Klingon battle-dress at the time with a
feathered boa around his neck.
“Very well,” Lensherr agreed, with
a strangely similar image running through his mind. “Now if we can get down to business... I trust you all have read
the preliminary report about our recent visitor.” He began taking the time to
acknowledge his assembled command staff.
Yar posting herself against the bulkhead to his left, the young woman’s
nervous energy making it almost impossible for her to sit still for too
long. His security chief and chief
engineer seated to his left, while the chief medical officer and Doug Ramsey
set on his right. At the end of the
table was Cordelia, still looking a bit flushed, and medic Sinclair who was
keeping a watchful eye on her. After
getting a nod from each of them he continued, “impressions... anyone?” he
asked, wanting to get his, admittedly strange, command staff’s reactions and
opinions on the rather bizarre situation they have somehow found themselves in.
“Its rubbish, Erik that demon git
was trying to pull a fast one on us,” the vampire replied, “he’s up to
something and trying to get us to do his dirty work.”
“Agreed Captain... there is no
proof that our entire lives are lies,” Yar cut in, saying the last word with a
sneer. "What exactly do we know of
this Whistler character anyway?”
“Well he certainly isn’t a snappy
dresser,” Ramsey said in a stage whisper certain he was going to have
nightmares about the badly dressed creature for at least a week.
“But he is a demon,” Rahne replied
with a shy smile having heard Ramsey's soft-spoken comment.
“Demon? Any idea what kind?” the
silver-haired captain asked.
“Not sure... even came across one
with his scent before, but he did reek of magic. Tis a cross between good and evil... never encountered anything
like it before,” Rahne reported, gathering her thoughts before adding, “and
another thing... he knows Q... or at least the git is helping him, smelled the
stench of the Continuum after he disappeared.”
“Oh bloody wonderful.... just what
we needed another visit by Q the All Annoying,” the vampire growled,
remembering the last visit the self-proclaimed omnipotent being made to the
ship one the crew was still recovering from in a lot of ways.
“That doesn’t sound like Q at
all,” Beverly Crusher disagreed, reviewing the facts. “Its not like Q to let
another do his dirty work for him, if he was behind this he would have already
shown himself.”
“Agreed,” Lensherr acknowledged
with an absent nod.
“Doesn’t sound like him? The worthless pounce damn near gets three
members of the command staff killed and you’re arguing his MO.?” The security
chief growled back, his hatred of the so-called god-like being clear in his
eyes.
“William, no one is arguing that Q
is not to be trusted,” Erik cut in, calming the vampire with a hand gesture,
knowing full well the intense hatred several members of the crew has toward the
being that had invaded the ship and their lives repeated over the years
disrupting all of their lives with his petty games.
“Beverly is right... this is not
Q’s style, not enough flash for him,” Tasha finally spoke, her eyes cold and
hard as she forcibly pushed aside memories of Q’s last visit. The memories and
wounds too fresh as she recalled being forced to relive being ganged raped in
his failed attempt to prove humanity’s barbarian-like ways once and for all.
“So where does that leave us? This
Whistler creature being right and our lives are one big cosmic joke?” Ramsey
asked, hating the situation the more he thought about it.
“That’s not good enough... I
refuse to believe any of what this Whistler being has to say,” Lensherr replied
coming to a decision. “We will investigate the situation and if it IS all an
elaborate prank orchestrated by our mysterious demon or Q... we will deal with
them when the time comes. Cordelia...
Whistler apparently made you a seer once more... did you see anything?”
“I... I’m not sure, it was all
disjointed,” Cadet chase began after a moment, “I saw Commander Yar moving
around some ruins and this really big and ugly thing that was trying to tear
her apart... and oh yeah there was this sign that I think read... ‘Welcome to
Turkana IV: City ofPeace’ or something like that,” she finished unsure if she
was remembering that last part right. “Only it didn’t look very peaceful or
intact for that matter.”
“Damn,” the low voice growled
brought everyone’s attention to the executive officer that had suddenly turned
white as a ghost at the Cadet’s word. “I was born on Turkana IV, Captain,” she
reported after a moment, her eyes unseeing as they tried to bore a hole in the
bulkhead opposite her, “it would make the perfect home for a demon.”
Starbase 344
Two weeks later –
“Do you believe this Whistler
creature?” Captain Jean-Luc Picard asked his long time friend, as the two
Senior Officers set down at a table in the station’s nearly deserted main
lounge.
“Honestly... I don’t know what to
believe,” Erik Lensherr replied honestly, with a tired sign, “I do know that my
Operations Officer has been in Sickbay twelve times in the last week alone
being treated for headaches.”
“Headaches?” Picard questioned,
with a raised eyebrow.
“A side-effect of her visions
apparently,” the mutant replied, “if that wasn’t bad enough... she nearly broke
her neck falling off a ladder in Engineering when a vision strike her.”
“Was she hurt badly?” Picard found
himself asking, recalling the few psychics he had known in his long
distinguished career, many of which suffered from painful headaches as a direct
result of their visions.
“Minor bumps and bruisers
mostly... she landed on the Assistant Chief Engineer,” Lensherr replied with a
small grin, “he got a sprained wrist out of it. However, some good came out if it... we were able to warn you
about the fault in your plasma injector.”
He added, referring to the emergency message to the Enterprise, the
flagship of the fleet, to power down immediately because their warp core was
about to explode and take all sixteen hundred souls with it. Good thing his old friend had trusted him
enough to power down the main engine, Lensherr didn’t want to mourn the loss of
any more friends.
“True,” Picard acknowledged with a
nod, not wanting to think of the consequences if he had not listened to his
friend. Dying in a huge fiery ball was
not the way Jean-Luc Picard wanted to die.
As it was he had trusted his friend and ordered emergency power brought
on line while engineering began the long repair process to the faulty plasma
injector. “So what are your plans?” he
asked, trying to change the subject, as he cast a quick look at his ship
sitting serenely alongside
Lensherr’s own ship the Dauntless.
“Starfleet Command agrees that the
situation should be looked into, as of now the Dauntless will be on detached
duty... we are to investigate Whistler’s claim and determine if it is another
one of Q’s games or not.” Lensherr replied,
taking a drink. “In preparation, we are
refitting and restocking our supplies,” he finished somewhat dryly still not
seeing the need to have called the Dauntless to Starbase 344 when there were
about fourteen closer bases they could have stopped off at on their journey to
the Turkana System, sometimes Starfleet Command made very little sense to him.
“Refit?” Picard asked in
disbelief, the Dauntless wasn’t all that old a vessel barely four years in
commission, the ship shouldn’t being getting refit for another sixteen years at
the least, unless it suffered major hull damage. And as far as Picard knew there were no reports of any Federation
ships getting hit by small stray planets to warrant such an order.
“Starfleet Command decided I
needed a new bridge module,” Lensherr commented, his expression conveying his
dislike of that particular modification on his ship. “It seems, and I quote ‘my bridge was geared toward exploration
alone and not toward independent multi-task functions a vessel operating without
support for long periods of time will be forced to endure on a mission such as
this’ end quote.”
************************
USS Dauntless
Deck 2 –
“Commander... main power and
pressurization has been restored to the bridge module, routing turbo lift
traffic to include that sector now.” Acting-Lieutenant Willow Rosenberg
reported, as she stepped into the small auxiliary control room that was located
under the main bridge that acted as a fail safe in case they ever lost both the
bridge and battle bridge in some freak accident. Although why Auxiliary Control was placed directly under the
bridge module was a complete mystery to her,
if something took out deck 1,
chances were deck 2 was going to be damaged too, even if it had been specially
reinforced to handle the docking of the module in the first place.
“Thanks Willow,” Commander Yar
replied, raising her head briefly to acknowledge the young Lieutenant before
returning her attention to the readout in front of her. “Doug... have those medical supplies arrived
yet?” she asked the young blonde cadet working nearby.
“Almost Commander... waiting for
two hundred advanced trauma kits,” Doug Ramsey replied, “Why do we need two
hundred trauma kits?”
“Because there is a bloody lunatic
in change of Logistics,” the Security Chief growled, as he pulled himself out
of the access panel he had been working in.
“All right Yar, it should work now... and if it doesn’t I suggest we rip
it out and send it back to that pillock at Utopia Planitia.” He said giving the little power relay he had
been fighting with for the last six hours a dirty look. He just knew that Brahms woman at the Fleet
Yards put it in the access panel to annoy him.
“Something isn’t right about
this,” Ramsey said, his attention still focused on the supply manifest in front
of him, “half this stuff is useless to us... what are we going to do with a
pulse cannon?’
“Pulse cannon?” three voices
questioned in disbelief exchanging confused looks.
“Yeah... four of them in fact, two
thousand phaser chargers, - both handheld and rifle – heavy body armour,
additional torpedoes, probes and deacons – that nearly triple our current
stock. Enough spare parts to rebuild
our entire shuttle fleet.... twice and eighty-four water purifiers to name just
a few things that are on this list.” Doug said, reading off some of the more
interesting items.
“Okay... we’re either going to be
taking over a small planet or Starfleet Command knows something we don’t,”
Willow said after a moment, before being interrupted by the main computer
informing her that turbo lift access to the bridge had been restored. “Well lets go see what our new bridge looks
like,” she said with a grin.
************************
Stepping off the small maintenance
lift from deck 2, Doug Ramsey was the first to see the new bridge. “All right.... they gave us the cool
bridge!” he crowed merrily his eyes almost dancing as he took in his new
surroundings.
“What do you mean it’s the ‘cool
bridge’ it looks the same as the old one,” Willow demanded, popping him on the
back of the head with her hand. “Well
almost,” she amended.
“Well yeah... but look, new raised
platform for the Captain’s chair. No
more horseshoe tactical thingie to get in your way while you’re jumping to the
lower level. Built in Science and
Mission Operations Stations,” he indicated, pointing to the two stations across
from one another flanking the Captain’s chair on opposite walls. “And oh look... helm and operations.... nice
comfy looking chairs to sit in.”
“Doug...
you’re drooling.”
Commander William Blood, also
called Spike by his enemies and closest friends, was hunched over his new
tactical station, a goofy looking grin on his face as he studied the board, his
tongue sticking out of his month somewhat comically.
“You can almost see the mayhem
he’s just itching to unleash,” Kitty Pride commented dryly, pausing in her
programming of the science station to regard the Security Chief.
“Fifty credits says at the first
red alert he goes into game face,” Cordelia Chase replied, referring to the
vampire’s ‘demon’ face that emerged every time he was feeding or angry.
“I heard that!” the vampire in
questioned growled looking up from his beloved tactical board and scowling at
the two cadets, momentarily forgetting his tongue was still sticking out.
Assistant Chief of Security Graham
Miller stepped onto the bridge in search of his commanding office, a data pad
held in one hand, as he scanned the new bridge. ‘Not bad,’ the chief of away team operations thought, knowing
that this was probably the one change he would ever get to see the bridge. His duties involved maintaining the away
teams that were sent to explore new worlds or as part of military operations,
as a result he never got to see the bridge except on rare occasions he had
business there. Spotting the scowling
vampire, Miller briefly wondered if his superior had seen the new arrival list
after all, ‘Nah couldn’t have,’ he thought with a slight shake of his head,
‘everyone in engineering would have heard if he had.’ He amended, silently wondering if he should have stopped by his
office and grabbed his earplugs, because Commander Blood was so not going to
like one of the names on the list.
“Uh oh... Graham is squaring his
shoulders... that is never a good thing,” Kitty Pride said softly to Cordelia,
the two exchanging worried looks.
Recalling the last time the Lieutenant had squared his shoulders like
that was when he was delivering the after action report on the war games held
near the Klingon border, the same games that decimated the entire security
staff and got the ships doctor killed... twice.
Spike watched his second approach,
noting the way the human held himself, ‘Great... bloody great... what else has
Starfleet dropped into our laps?’ he wondered.
“New crew and civilian transfers
Commander,” Graham reported formerly taking a step back instinctively, he
didn’t want to be too close to his superior when the vampire read that hated
name on the list.
Giving the tall, stocky built
human with a buzz-cut hair style, one last look the vampire begins to read the
list, stopping when he got to the “F” column.
“NO bloody way!” he growled his demon pushing forward, “that can’t stick
us with that idiotic ‘git’ AGAIN! We
did our time with the boy blunder... give him to the Enterprise or something.”
“Is there a problem,
Commander?” Erik Lensherr calmly asked,
having heard his security chief growling and cursing from his new ready room.
“I’ll say there is.... Starfleet
Command bloody well hates us!” the outraged officer growled, even managing to
look offended in game face, “they stuck is us with James-freakin-Kirk junior
AGAIN! Didn’t we suffer enough the last
time we had him?”
“Oh no not again,” Cordelia groaned,
realizing just what had gotten the security chief so outraged. “Captain... he hates mutants and vampires...
and do you really want Rahne to carry out her promise if she ever saw him
again?” She pleaded. “Blood is not
going to come out of the deck plates easy.”
Feeling a pounding begin in his
head, “I take it that one Mister Finn has been transferred back to us?” Lensherr questioned, wondering if Spike was
right and Starfleet Command did indeed hate them.
“Oh bloody hell,” Spike’s low
curse brought up the Captain’s head, “how the hell can they assign HER
here?” He wondered aloud as he handed
the data pad back to Miller.
“Spike?” Lensherr questioned.
“They gave us the Slayer... they
bloody well assigned us the Slayer,” the vampire said in disbelief.
“Slayer?” the captain questioned
slowly, trying to figure out what was bothering his security chief now.
“The vampire Slayer,” Cordelia
reported almost absently, “in each generation there is a Chosen One. She alone
will stand against the vampires, the demons and the forces of darkness. She is
the Slayer.... And how the hell do I know that?”
“This Slayer... kills vampires and
demons?” the captain said, making sure he understood what he just heard.
“She’s a bloody stake happy
lunatic is what she is!” Spike replied with another outraged growl. “Has no respect for authority and just loves
to stake innocent vampires minding their own business.”
‘Innocent vampires?’ Kitty and
Cordelia mouthed at the same time, trying to picture an innocent vampire and
not quite getting the mental image.
“You know what this Slayer looks
like?”
“Not personally... but I do know
her name, everyone in the demon underworld knows the name of the Slayer.” Spike
replied with a shake of his head, trying to keep his demon under control. While he wasn’t a cursed poof like that
damnable grandsire of his, he didn’t have a stake-wish either. He liked his un-life just fine the way it
was, granted it wasn’t as blood filled as it used to be but he liked to think
he had grown beyond that sort of mindless blood letting.
“Well it would appear that a few
introductions are in order,” Lensherr said after a moment. ‘First a new bridge module, then we get more
supplies then we’ll ever know what to do with... now this! What the hell is going on here?’ “Where can
we find this Slayer?”
“Deck eleven – in the quarters
assigned to Professor Joyce Summers...the Slayer is her daughter.” Spike
replied, returning to his human face.
************************
“That had better not be more
medical supplies!” Doctor Beverly Crusher growled, already surrounded by
creates and boxes of various medical instruments and equipment, as two crewmen
guided in yet another hover lift full of the annoying boxes marked with the
medical insignia.
“Sorry doctor, this is the last of
it though,” one of the crewmen, promised, waving around a data pad. “We tripled checked it, this is the last for
you... the other two hundred crates are going to the science department.”
“Only two hundred?” Beverly grunted, trying to work her way
through the mess that had become her sickbay, “wonder whom Harper-Coe paid off
to get just that many crates,” she grumbled.
“Some Science Officers have all the luck.”
Chapter 7
Captain's Log
Stardate: 41798.2
Recording -
We have finally left
Starbase 344 and have returned to our original heading for the Turkana system
at high warp. The more I think about
this mystery that has been dropped into our laps, the more puzzling it becomes. An indirect inquiry made on the Enterprise
shows that our sudden need of additional supplies was ordered just a little
over a week and a half ago... right after my initial report to Starfleet
Command was made. It makes no sense, what does Fleet Command know that they
have saw fit not to tell us? Why the
additional supplies that will keep this ship operating continuingly for the
next fifty years at a minimum without limited rationing?
The Dauntless is not a deep
space explorer; such supplies are not needed for our primary ship
functions. And yet the preliminary
cargo and supply inventory all show that we have been stocked for continuous
deep space... as well as prolonged military operations. This latest revelation troubles me, my ship
has been prepared for war and Starfleet Command has neglected to inform me whom
the enemy is.
My contacts at Headquarters
have all gone quiet; save for Jean-Luc and Moira who have both pledged to use
their own resources to help find me some answers. I’m not sure what they will
be able to find, they are both tied to their respective ships, but I have found
over the years they are a lot craftier then many give them credit for. If there
are answers they will find them, of this I have little doubt.
Another, equally troubling
mystery is this “Slayer” that has been assigned to my ship, with the
‘honourary’ rank of Lieutenant.
According to Starfleet, Elizabeth Ann Summers has never attended the
Academy and yet holds a commissioned rank.
Furthermore, the Federation Council has sealed most of her record, what
connections does this young woman have with the governing body of the
Federation?
My first encounter with the
Slayer has left me with more questions when answers, however I was able to
order a ‘truce’ between this Chosen One and my Security Chief. Sacred duty or not, I cannot have her
staking my Second Officer, even if he is a vampire. While I am not totally sure what I’m supposed to do with a
Slayer, I will find her something to do. She will learn every department and
function aboard this ship, in the process I am hoping that we will learn more
about her. From my initial impression I
gather that Lieutenant Summers does not ‘play well with others’, perhaps her
presents here is just as much of a mystery to her. As for Professor Joyce
Summers, her record is impeccable I’m lucky Jean-Luc hasn’t gotten hold of the
woman first. Professor Summers will
make a valuable addition to the Science Department, her knowledge of ancient
art and culture alone has my Chief Science Officer practically drooling.
On a final note, the return
of one Riley Finn to the ranks of my crew has caused a minor problem. Lieutenant Finn outranks the cadets I have
assigned to key positions. Giving his
prior actions and known hostilities toward non-humans I have taken steps to ensure
that he will be unable to pull rank on certain members of the command staff.
Effective immediately, Cadets Kitty Pryde, Douglas Ramsey, and Rahne Sinclair
are field promoted to the rank of Lieutenant with all rights and privileges
there of. Cadets Cordelia Chase and
Willow Rosenberg are field promoted to the rank of Lieutenant Commander
permanently assigned to the positions of Operations Officer and Chief Engineer
respectfully.
End Recording.
***********************
“Rahne... you can’t kill
him,” Commander Yar said to the growling young medic seated opposite her in the
main crew lounge. “That’s an order.”
With another low growl
Lieutenant Rahne Sinclair acknowledged the executive officer, “Aye... I won’t
tear out his heart.” Crossing her arms
over her chest, the short haired redhead tried to get control of her temper, as
much as she wanted too, she wouldn’t rip out Riley Finn’s heart and hand it
back to him.
Knowing that it was the
best she was going to get out of the younger officer, the Commander turned her
attention to other matters, “Now that we got that settled, we can talk about
your other problem. Commander Blood
wants you in Security... he feels your unique abilities can best be used in his
department, of course so does the Chief Medical Officer,” she said with a
slight grin, referring to Sinclair's ability to shape shift from human to wolf.
“I happen to agree with both of them, your enhanced senses alone make you
invaluable on Away Team missions in unknown and possible hostile territory. You are able to follow the faintest of
scents anywhere that makes you ideal for rescue and recovery operations. Your ability to use your senses to assist in
administrating first-aid is just a bounce... Commander Blood would be a fool
not to want you on his staff. He also
likes the idea that you come with your own set of claws and fangs to aid in
‘scaring the hell out of the enemy when he is otherwise indisposed’.” Yar added with a smirk.
“Aye... he has mentioned
that a time or two," Rahne replied dryly, remembering the little Ferengi
he was willing to feed to her when they were looking for their missing Captain
last year. While she wasn’t all that
sure she would want to eat a Ferengi, at the time growling at the annoying
little twit and shifting to her tallest transitional form did have the desired
result. Kitty Pryde only had to
threaten to phase the Ferengi into a wall once to get him to shut up.
“Aside from the claw
thing... the very things that makes you ideal for Security makes you ideal for
working in the Trauma Bay,” Yar said after a moment, brushing aside a lock of
her own short blonde hair out of her eyes. “Now after a lot of thought I’ve
decided to permanently assign you to the newly created post of Chief of
Emergency Operations, you will work with both Security and Medical. Your responsibilities will be to provide
additional support for both departments, aboard ship and on Away Teams.”
“Okay,” Rahne said a bit
unsure, “who do I report to?”
“Me,” Tasha replied, her
eyes shining with mischief, “I will be your immediate superior. You’ll pull your staff form the other
department ranks; its strictly volunteer but all of the Cadet force will serve
at least six months with you. I want to
exploit as many of our talents as possible.”
“Ya seem like your
expecting something,” Rahne noted, cocking her head to one side and giving the
First Officer a closer look using those enhanced senses the CSO and CMO seemed
so fond of. ‘Interesting... her adrenaline level is up, heart rate a bit
evaluated too... blood pressure... not bad.
But she's worried about something,’ Rahne thought, her hearing picking
up the Executive Officer’s heartbeats and noting the minute changes in Yar’s
scent. Making a mental note to keep an
eye on Tasha, a little feeling telling the young werewolf that something bad
was about to happen. Rahne hated that
feeling, it was usually correct and often meant she was going to end up doing
something really inhuman and down right disturbing to someone or
something. Shaking her head slightly, Sinclair
refocused her thoughts on what Yar was saying, the two soon into a deep
conversation about sitting up and running the newly created department of
Emergency Operations.
Chapter 8
“Chief of Emergency
Operations... it has such a nice ring to it,” Lieutenant Commander Willow
Rosenberg said from the open hatchway of Rahne’s new office, a big goofy
looking grin on her face as she regarded her friend and roommate.
“Na ya too,” Rahne groaned,
with a shake of her head, as she looked up from her desk. “Don ya have
something to be checking in tha’ engine room of yours?”
“Rahney... I’m hurt, you
actually think I would miss your office warming party?” Willow cried sounded
offended as she stepped further into the room, “its not everyday my roomy gets
promoted to a brand new post.” She said sounding offended, “er, just what
exactly is it you do?” She questioned after a moment.
“I’m not quite sure... all
I know is tha’ Commander Yar sat me down an’ told me that I could na kill tha’
git Finn an’ then told me I had a new job,” Rahne said with another shake of
her head.
“That sounds like our XO...
when in doubt confuse the lower ranks,” Willow said with a laugh having given
up trying to figure out the first officer’s sense of logic shortly after
meeting her. Commander Yar tended to be
an enigma, just when you think you understand her, she changes on you, some new
aspect of her personality emerges blowing your perception of her right out the
window.
“Er... excuse me,” a new
voice said as a petite blonde appeared in the hatchway, “I’m looking for a
Lieutenant Sinclair.”
“Aye, ya found her... ya
must be Lieutenant Summers,” Rahne replied as the two redheads turned to regard
the newcomer.
“How did you know?” Buffy
Summers questioned a bit hesitantly.
“Process of elimination...
I know just about everyone on board,” Rahne replied with a calm smile, not
exactly lying to the blonde, she did know most of the crew and passengers
aboard the ship. Mainly through their
scent, but she did know who was and wasn’t apart of the vessels compliment, but
she didn’t think Summers was ready to learn that little fact just yet, most
people tended to get nervous when they found out they were talking to a
werewolf.
“Okay,” Buffy replied,
absently wondering how anyone could know well over a thousand people enough to
know if there was a stranger in the neighbourhood or not. “The Captain said I
had to report to you.”
“Cool... your first
subordinate,” Willow crowed happily, “this is so neat, you have someone to order and growl at...
not that you actually growl at people on a daily basis because you don’t you
usually go into the holodeck and beat up defenseless holograms for hours and
hours.”
“Ya have to forgive our
Chief Engineer... she got hit with a sonic wrench the other day and hasna been
the same since,” Rahne commented dryly.
“Ha ha... I’ll remember
that the next time you destroy your uniform,” Willow replied playfully swinging
at her friend. “I’m Willow by the way,” she said introducing herself to the
blonde, “don’t listen to a thing Wolfy here has to say about me... she’s known
me all my life and is quite biased in her opinion of me.”
“Ah huh,” the blonde
acknowledged, giving the two a puzzled look.
At first she had mistaken them for siblings, both had red hair and green
eyes, although Rahne wore hers very short and on closer inspection her eyes had
a touch of blue in them as well. About
the only difference she could tell in them were their accents, Lieutenant
Sinclair had a thick Scots blur.
“Hey no tormenting the new
guy until after she’s been aboard for more then a week,” Lieutenant Miller said
coming up behind Buffy, “you must be the Slayer, I’m Lieutenant Miller
Assistant Chief of Security,” he said holding out his hand to her. “I’ve been
looking forward to meeting you... hoping you’ll drop by Security and give us a
few pointers in the slaying department, we always like to get the opinion of a
professional.”
“Huh?... Wait, wait... you
know I’m the Slayer?” Buffy questioned panicking a bit.
"Small ship, not many
secrets around here," Willow replied gently, “well there are, mainly the
really important ones, like the transponder codes and the exact contents of
Doctor Crusher’s favourite hypo but other then that, we’re pretty open about
everything.”
“Don’t let it bother you...
in fact by our standards you are pretty normal,” Miller said taking pity on
her, “we take great pride on our diversity we never had an actual Chosen One
among the crew... we’re planning a large welcome aboard party for you and everything.”
“You’re going to throw me a
party?” Buffy said slowly wondering if Miller was some escaped patient out of
Sickbay’s mental ward.
“Well why not? We like being different any ship can be the
finest in the Fleet but how many do you know that have a vampire in charge of
Security, a sorceress in Engineering," he went on indicating Willow as the
magic user with a nod of his head, “and an actual werewolf in charge of
Emergency Operations?” he continued with a nod to Rahne.
“You see around here... Graham
there is a complete freak of nature, being all boring one hundred percent
human,” Willow added helpfully.
“I love you too,” Graham
replied dryly, “you see what I have to put up with around here?”
“Okay,” Buffy said shaking
her head dismissively, then something occurred to her, “you guys are okay with
a vampire being in charge of Security?”
“Why not? He gave his word not to snack on any of the
crew and Commander Blood would sooner take a bath in holy water then break his
word.”
“Don tell anyone but his
conscience won’ let him,” Rahne said sitting back in her chair and studying the
Slayer. ‘Well hello? What is this?’ she asked herself picking up something on
the blonde she usually only associated with Commander Yar only a bit stronger
coming from Buffy.
“A vampire with a
conscience, yeah right.” Buffy replied with a laugh sure the three were putting
her on now.
“Really he does... he hates
admitting it but he does have one,” Willow said, “we’re not saying that all
vampires have a conscience.., because a lot of them don’t especially the really
young ones.”
“It has a lot to do when
they are turned, the Commander was turned when honour still played a large part
in society,” Miller continued, “it’s like the memories... the demon shares all
of its host’s memories... well it also tends to share in its emotions and
conscious they bleed right on over as much as a vampire hates to admit it. Commander Blood happens to respect our
Captain he would sooner stake himself then disgrace that respect.”
“Now th’ young ones they
tend to have na such quarks in their psyche...they are more inta blood and
mindless violence... those vamps we stake,” Rahne said.
“So the Security Chief has
a soul,” Buffy said making sure she understood properly.
“No... he has a
conscience... he’s still one soulless bastard of a vampire but he’s an honest
one.” Miller corrected, “look... once you’ve been here for a awhile you’re
start to notice a few things, one is that the Security Chief is one strange as
hell demon and he likes being that way.
Two we tend to be stubborn, possessive, and very territorial about who
and what we consider ours... especially Rahne over there she is the absolute
worse about it.”
“I am not possessive or
territorial,” Rahne cried in outrage.
“You’ll note she is not
denying the stubborn part,” Miller said in a conspiring whisper to the Slayer,
a wide grin on his face.
A low growl brought Buffy's
attention back to Rahne who was giving the male a dark look, “And you're a
werewolf... don’t you have a little problem with the whole moon thing?” She
asked remembering her few encounters with werewolves in the past that usually
involved a lot of growling and drooling.
“Why does everyone keep
askin me tha’?” Rahne questioned to no one in particular looking mildly
offended. “Na the moon doesna cause me to ‘wolf out’ an’ try to rip people
apart... I am na cursed, silver only ends up annoying me an’ na ta mention puts
me ina very bad mood. The only time
I’ve ever instinctively shape shifted was when I’ve been scared... but a lot of
mutants tend ta have the same reflexive action...ya probably do the same thing
when sufficiently startled.” She explained with a calm smile, wondering if she
was ever going to live down thousands of years of persecution, you say werewolf
and people automatically think she is some snarling mindless creature come to
eat them.
“Ah... yeah,” Buffy replied
sheepishly, recalling the time she accidentally put her fist through a metal
wall just after she was ‘called’ and was still getting used to the sudden
change in her strength. That was one of
the toughest things she had to get used to, not knowing her own strength any
more.
“The only time the moon has
ever effected me is when we have been in orbit around a planet for a prolong
period of time and I’ve become acclimated to its lunar pull.” Sinclair added
with her own sheepish grin.
“Its not the fullness of
the moon that causes problems for her... it’s how strong the lunar pull is, it
tends to throw off Rahne's control,” Miller added, “she doesn’t go wild or
anything, it just makes her moodier then usual and more prone to lose her
temper.”
“Ah but what happens if
we’re in orbit around a moon?” Buffy asked with a wicked grin, deciding to just
go with it and see what happens, her little inner Slayer voice saying that she
was going to feel right at home.
“You know... I think you’re
going to fit right in around here,” Willow replied with a grin, liking her new
friend already, as Rahne and Miller laughed.
After the laughter died
down, “Look I got to run, due in a meeting in twenty minutes... once you get
settled in, swing by Security and we’ll get you fitted for a stiletto,” Miller
said, casting a glance at the office wall clock.
“Stiletto?”
“Yeah... a little invention
most of Security carries,” he added, holding up one arm and extending the
eleven inch razor sharp blade from the its hiding place under his uniform
sleeve, “prefect for staking a bothersome vamp while on away team missions and
is also useful against other possible threats.” He said with a wicked grin,
“it’s made of Klingon iron wood damn near indestructible and very deadly.”
“All the properties of wood
for dusting of the undead, but still versatile enough to be used as a knife in
hand to hand combat,” Willow continued, “a lot of the crew carry them, using
them as a back up in case they lose their phaser and such.”
“And the vampire...
Commander Blood approves of this?” Buffy questioned studying the blade and its
housing as Miller shoved up his sleeve to give her a better look at the
stiletto.
“Approves? Bloody hell... the man helped design it,”
Rahne said with a laugh. “Ta him... we’re his kids the whole bloody lot of
us... and if ya think I’m possessive ya should see him when it comes ta those
he considers his.”
“Vampires can be very
possessive... dangerously at times,” Buffy noted filing away the information
automatically.
“Aye we know... an’ in
other situations he would be tryin to turn the lot of us, if it wasna for the
Captain,” Rahne acknowledged with a slight grin.
“He even thinks of turning
one of us without our consent and the Captain would happily beam him into the
nearest sun,” Miller replied with a wicked grin of his own.
“Hey, if you wanted to
serve on a sane ship... you should have gotten transferred to the Enterprise,”
Willow suggested helpfully with a wide grin.
TBC…
Minor notes:
Tasha actually did make her way through a Carnellian minefield
once, as Picard once said in actual dialogue from the Next Gen. although I did
add a little bit to it. : ) Also the command staff has been named and
are the main characters of the story, although a few other will later be
introduced as the story progresses, but mainly anyone that was in the lounge is
going to be the leads.
Minor Notes 2:
According to the Star Trek Technical Guide the bridge is really supposed to be one big module you just plug into the ship, depending on its mission purpose --- that explains why no two bridges ever looked alike. So I figured what the hell... I’ll change the bridge module. ::shrugs:: I know I know, no writing when I’m bored and sleepy. : )