6259 lines
170 KiB
Plaintext
6259 lines
170 KiB
Plaintext
Path: moe.ksu.ksu.edu!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!caen!uunet!decwrl!stanford.edu!ames!data.nas.nasa.gov!taligent!apple!apple!mcmelmon
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From: mcmelmon@taligent.com (Matthew C. Melmon)
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Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
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Subject: Five Star Trek - First Half (REPOST)
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Message-ID: <30746@goofy.Apple.COM>
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Date: 17 Sep 92 21:47:19 GMT
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Sender: usenet@Apple.COM
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Organization: Apple Computer, Inc.
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Lines: 2735
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Space.
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The Enterprise floats slowly past.
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Riker: Anything?
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Data: No indications as to what may be causing
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the sub-space anomolies at this time, Captain. Illogically,
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the anomolies appear to be gaining in strength, despite the
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absence of any apparent source. I suspect a source exists,
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we simply cannot see it.
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Riker: And you're sure we're sitting on the 'X?'
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Data: The 'X,' Commander Riker?
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Riker: 'X' marks the spot.
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Riker: Which spot is that?
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Picard: Where the treasure is buried.
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Data: No, Captain. We are sitting near the 'X.'
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Picard: Wise thinking.
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Data: I thought so, Captain.
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The Enterprise begins shaking lightly. It continues to
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shake at regular intervals of approximately one minute.
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Worf: Captain, the disturbances have begun increasing
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markedly.
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Picard: They're still originating from the same point?
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Data: Yes, captain. They emanate from a
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spherical region of space, roughly fifteen kilometers in
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diameter. Our shields are being buffeted at a rate of
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steadily increasing period. Current period, once per forty-
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five seconds. Given shield surfaces as one unit
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measurement, energy released roughly equals five percent of
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a standard photon torpedo per unit measurement.
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Worf: Shields holding, no signs of strain.
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Riker: Something's about to blow...
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Data: Blow, Commander?
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Worf: Intensity increased to ten percent of standard
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torpedo, period once every thirty seconds. Shields holding.
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Picard: Back us off. Keep us between wave periods.
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Data: Yes, Captain... Warp factor: point nine three
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one four one five.
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The Enterprise's engines hum. She stops shaking.
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Data: I believe I have isolated the nature of
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these anomolies...
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Riker: Better explain quickly.
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Data: The energy fronts are the by products of a
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sustained tachyon decay. We are witnessing the echoes of a
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future event...
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Riker: Like I said, something's going to blow...
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A dull glow begins to take shape on the Enterprise's screen.
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Worf: Frequency of emissions increased to one per ten
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seconds. Intensity increased to fifty percent of standard
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torpedo.
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Picard: Will those fronts overtake us?
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Data: Not for a while, Captain.
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Picard: See that they do not. If necessary, increase speed
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to match them. Even if it takes us through the previous
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fronts.
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Worf: Frequency of emissions increased to one per second.
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Intensity, two-hundred and thirty percent standard torpedo.
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Picard: Engage warp...
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The glow becomes increasingly bright. It expands.
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Worf: Constant emission of energy, expanding outward at
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near-light in both real and sub-space. Intensity,
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approximately fifteen standard torpedos - per unit
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measurement. We don't want to get caught by that, Captain.
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Picard: Warp one.
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The Enterprise drops into warp, backing away from the
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growing sphere of light. A sudden pulse illuminates the
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sphere from within. The Enterprise bridge crew shields
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there eyes for a moment before the screen adjusts.
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The internal glow subsudies. The original sphere continues
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to expand. It dims slightly as it does so.
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Riker: What the hell was that?
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Worf: Sensors indicate a massive object now occupies the
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center of the sphere.
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Picard: How massive?
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Data: Approximately ten point three kilometers
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in length, two kilometers in width...
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A cavernous room. Filled with giant screens and projected
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holographs. The Enterprise appears in multiple
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such projections. Tall, delicate humans walk amongst the
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images and equipment.
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They defer to a particular tall, androgynous man. His hair,
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long and pale lavender. One eye, gold - the other
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ultramarine blue. OLDNA POSEIDAL. His voice sounds distant
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and musical, almost melancholy.
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By Poseidals side, what appears to be a young, but
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nevertheless very tall, girl. ATROPHOS. She walks slightly
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behind Poseidal.
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Atrophos: Great Poseidal, the bio-relation coils remain
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almost fully charged. We were very fortunate the
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transference went so well. There was no feed-back from
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Gustogol.
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Poseidal: Yes. Very fortunate... Has a world been located
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suitable to a bio-relation transplant?
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Atrophos: Yes, my Lord. The Sensitives report three
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candidates.
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Poseidal: Three?
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Atrophos: Yes, my Lord. Again, we have been very
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fortunate.
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Poseidal takes a seat at the center of the command chamber.
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Holographic images dance about him. Images of his vessel,
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of the Enterprise and the Nadia, and of several planets
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flash by.
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Poseidal: Which world is furthest?
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Atrophos: This one, my Lord.
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A series of projections show a path leading to a dot.
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Poseidal: And which one is nearest?
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Atrophos: This one, my Lord.
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Another series of projections, ending in a dot.
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Poseidal: And which one is neither?
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Atrophos: This one, my Lord.
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Once again, more projections dance before Poseidal.
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Poseidal: This one it is. Have any other signs of bio-
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relation use been detected?
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Atrophos: No, my Lord. We are alone, for the moment.
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Poseidal: Yes. For the moment. Ready the ez-laser
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turbines. I would rather not perform another transference.
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Atrophos: Yes, my Lord. And what of this colorful moth?
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A holographic Enterprise flits before the pair.
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Poseidal: Pretty, isn't it?
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Poseidal stands. He walks along a narrow catwalk towards
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the main screens of the chamber. Navigational information
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begins to flash across them. Many people work furiously
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before consoles slightly bellow the catwalk. Several
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moments of silence go by.
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Poseidal: Engage the turbines.
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Earth.
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Starfleet's orbiting space station. A young Asian woman
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runs through the mechanical corridors. Stunningly
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beautiful, her long black hair flows out behind her in a
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seemingly endless stream. She wears a gown which, even in
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the egalitarian future appears exquisitely expensive.
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LYNN MING. Pop star.
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A small fighter-launch docks at one of the space bays.
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Shortly thereafter, a young man emerges from a hatch.
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Wesley Crusher. Cadet.
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Almost immediately, a fellow Star Fleet cadet greets Wesley.
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A Klingon - Glomras Metac. Soon after Glomras claps Wesley
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on the back, Lynn appears on the scene. She rushes up to
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Wesley and embraces him passionately - if somewhat naively.
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The beautiful young woman is oblivious to her impact on the
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male of the species.
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Lynn: Wesley! I watched your flight. You were wonderful!
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You're always so wonderful!
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Wesley [stammering]: Really, it wasn't anything to write
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home about...
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Lynn: You're something to write home about! Oh, Wesley...
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Another man appears. Tall, Asian. He carries himself like
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a prince.
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KYLE MING. Movie star.
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Kyle wears something resembling traditional Chinese garb:
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also exquisitely expensive. His long black hair falls
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immaculately down his back, held in place by several clips -
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each resembling a twisting, golden dragon. His pentagonal
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face betrays a smirk. His face betrays a smirk.
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Kyle [mocking]: Oh, Wesley... Really, Lynn. You do not
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carry yourself at all like you should.
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Lynn: What do you know about how I should carry myself.
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Kyle: More than you...
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Wesley [extending his hand]: Hello, Kyle.
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Kyle [grudgingly accepting the handshake]: Hello, Wesley.
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Lynn: Will you come to my concert tonight, Wesley? I
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really want you to be there.
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Wesley: Of course...
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Kyle: Now that that's settled, can we go? We're already
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late for an interview...
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Lynn [pointedly]: I'm already late for an interview,
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manager.
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Kyle: Right. So are you through gushing over your little
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stinging wasp...?
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Wesley: What's that supposed to mean?
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Kyle: Figure it out, Star Boy...
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Glomras: You're contempt, movie star, for Star Fleet is as
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preposterous as it is infamous.
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Kyle: Coming from a Klingon, I shall take that as a sincere
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compliment.
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Glomras: This is not a stage. You would not find a real
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Klingon quite as easy prey as you would one of your mock
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ups.
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Kyle [menacing]: Try me...
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Glomras: growl...
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Lynn: Let's go, now...
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Kyle: Go ahead, Star Jock. Try me...
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Glomras growls once more, then strikes out ferociously. His
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blow is linear and perfectly aimed. No force is lost. It
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focuses perfectly on it's target.
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Kyle's face.
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But even as his hand moves, the actor's body flow with
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liquid grace. His palm cups the much larger Klingon fist
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delicately. Guiding it. Kyle steps towards his opponent
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until their bodies touch. As if performing graceful tango,
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Kyle guides the Klingon's hand hand body.
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The perfect blow misses by millimeters, but a miss is
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nontheless a miss.
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Kyle continues to move, bending backward as if being dipped.
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Unwillingly, his adversary dips as well. As Kyle rolls to
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the floor, his other hand is moving. A well-aimed blow to
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the Klingon's arm. As the two hit the floor, the sound of
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powerful bones snapping echoes in the corridor.
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They roll.
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Kyle leaps up, somersaulting in the air several times before
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landing, arms angled up, like a diver readying himself for a
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dive.
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Absolute silence. Glomras contains pain. A crowd gathers.
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Lynn moves closer to Wesley.
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Lynn: Oh, Wesley. I'm so sorry. Really, I am. If I had
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known...
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Kyle: Come on, Lynn...
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Wesley: Not bad for a pacifist...
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Kyle: Those who speak peace must do so with a strong
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tongue...
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Wesley: Bingo. That's what Star Fleet's all about. Or
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hadn't you considered that.
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Kyle reflects briefly.
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Kyle: Come on, Lynn.
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Fearing Wesley may be next, Lynn walks over to Kyle's
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outstretched hand. She takes it, and they start to walk
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away. She looks back over her shoulder.
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Lynn: Please don't hold this against me, Wesley. Please
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come to my concert tonight. Please?
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Wesley: I will.
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A security officer appears. He almost stops the departing
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stars. He doesn't. Instead, he walks up to Wesley.
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Officer: What happened?
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Glomras: I am at fault.
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Officer: Oh?
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Glomras: Yes. I am also in pain.
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Officer: Wasn't Kyle Ming?
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Wesley: And his sister.
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Officer: Shit. They say his genetic patterns match those
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taken from the real Mings - the ancient Emperors of China.
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He's authentic through and through, all right...
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Glomras: Correct. Authentic enough to have inflicted a
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multiple compound fracture to my left arm. Even to a
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Klingon, this causes a fair amount of pain. Might I be
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taken to a medical facility sometime soon? Like... now?
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Meanwhile, in a luxury transport craft, Kyle and Lynn sit
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together on a comfortable divan.
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Lynn: He was right, and that made you mad, didn't it?
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Kyle: Who was right?
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Lynn: Wesley. About Star Fleet and strong tongues.
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Kyle: From what I'm told, he's always right...
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Lynn [coy]: Well, he also has a strong tongue...
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Enterprise briefing room.
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Picard: Commander Data. Please brief us on your findings.
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Data: This vessel conforms to no known design. As to it's
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purpose, there can be only one.
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Picard: And what is that?
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Data: War.
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Several nervous glances are exchanged.
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Picard: Explain.
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Data: The surface of this ship bristles with weaponry.
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Some of it quite impressive, Captain. In particular, note
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these circular disks along the 'top' and 'bottom' of the
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craft: eight along each side, three hundred meters in
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diameter.
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Picard: Their purpose?
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Data: By my analysis, I believe them to be turrets. It is
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possible to distinguish three long protrusions - roughly
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forty meters wide and two-hundred meters long - in each
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disk. I believe these protrusions may be extended...
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Picard: Giving the appearance of an ancient battleship...
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Data: Yes, Captain.
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Riker: A battleship with forty-meter guns?
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Data: Yes, Commander. Our scans indicate the casing of
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each gun is five meters in thickness, so to be completely
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accurate, the caliber of the weapon is thirty meters.
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Riker: Well, that makes me feel a lot better, Data.
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Worf: Such a weapon would be very immobile. It could not
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possibly move with the speed necessary to track any ship in
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the Star Fleet armada.
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Data: I believe that to be correct. Such a weapon would
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most likely be used against other very large vessels, or
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perhaps planet-based installations.
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Picard: What is the power of these guns?
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Data: Difficult to say, Captain. However, I can describe
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the power plant...
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Picard: How so?
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Data: Our scanners are not able to penetrate very far into
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the alien craft. However, they were able to detect the
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tell-tale radiations of sophisticated anti-matter reactors
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perhaps one hundred meters beneath the surface of each disk.
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Riker: Of each disk? You mean each turret has it's own
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anti-matter reactor?
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Data: Yes. The power output of each reactor appears to be
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approximately half that of the Enterprise's power output
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capability. Similar reactors have been detected beneath the
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surface of the craft at irregular intervals throughout the
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hull. Presumably, these reactors power the vessels other
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weapons batteries. Each reactor appears to power
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approximately thirty smaller weapon banks.
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Picard: Would the smaller weapons be able to track the
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Enterprise?
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Data: Almost certainly, Captain. But their potential for
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devastation is much less than the large turrets...
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Riker: Obviously, Data...
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Data: And the larger turrets would appear not to be the
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most devastating weapon available to this craft.
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Picard: Explain.
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Data: I believe this circular cavity at the front of the
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vessel - nearly five hundred meters in diamter - is the
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surface sympton of a huge, spinal weapon.
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Worf: A spinal weapon would only be able to fire in the
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same direction the ship was pointing... It's only practical
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application would be against nearly immobile targets.
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Data: Almost certainly, this weapon is intended for use
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against planets.
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Riker: What could possibly power such a weapon?
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Data: I do not know, Commander. All of the anti-matter
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reactors combined could potential power a considerable
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blast, but I think that not likely to be the true power
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source. We have not yet detected any means of propulsion,
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yet obviously such means must exist. I think it likely some
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for of power plant - as yet undetected - exists deep within
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the craft. That is all I have to report at this time.
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Picard: Very good, Data. Worf?
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Worf: The vessels has ignored all of our attempts at
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communication. Our scans have not altered it's apparent
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indifference to our pressence. We ourselves have been
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scanned nummerous times, with the majority of readings
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indicating scans concentrated on enginnering levels...
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Riker: Feeling us out?
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Picard: Quite possibly, Number One.
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Worf: Sensors indicate life forms exist, at least in those
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sections of the vessel we are able to penetrate. No
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shielding has been detected...
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Riker: So we could send an away team?
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Worf: The thickness and density of the alien's outer hull
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would make use of the transporter... dangerous, but not
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impossible.
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Picard: Well, we certainly don't want to go snooping around
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until we have more information...
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A member of the bridge crew interrupts via communicator.
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Crew man: Sorry to interrupt, Captain. But the alien craft
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has generated a warp field.
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After several startled glances, the meeting adjourns rapidly
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to the bridge.
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Picard quickly takes his seat as the others move to their
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stations.
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Data: The alien has, indeed, projected a warp field.
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However, we are unable to detect any signs of increased
|
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energy output. Either her reactors are extremely well
|
|
shielded against radiation leakage; or, they are perfectly
|
|
efficient.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
The giant craft disappears in a flash from the Enterprise's
|
|
viewer.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Data: Alien has dropped into sub-space. Moving at warp
|
|
three.
|
|
|
|
Riker: Shall we pursue.
|
|
|
|
Picard: Yes. Make it so, Commander Data.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
The bridge of Poseidal's giant vessel. Poseidal sits again
|
|
on his chair. An anonymous crew member appears in a holo
|
|
before him.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Crewman: Great Poseidal, the alien has overtaken us...
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: I see that.
|
|
|
|
Crewman: Of course, my Lord...
|
|
|
|
Poseidal [turning to Atrophos]: Have we translated their
|
|
transmissions?
|
|
|
|
Atrophos: Yes, my Lord. Their hailing appears to be a
|
|
standard greeting. The carrier signal is quite rich,
|
|
perhaps for use with indiginous translation schemes...
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: Can we see the message?
|
|
|
|
Atrophos: Yes, Great Poseidal.
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: Then, let us see it.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
A panel of light appears before Poseidal. The image of
|
|
Captain Picard appears in it.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Atrophos: The carrier signal contains only enough data for
|
|
a two dimensional representation...
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: I see that...
|
|
|
|
Picard: Greetings, alien vessel. I am Captain Jean-Luc
|
|
Picard of the starship Enterprise. We represent the United
|
|
Federation of Planets...
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: Our translation has it's pronouns confused.
|
|
|
|
Atrophos: I assure you, Lord Poseidal, the translation is
|
|
accurate.
|
|
|
|
Picard: We are a vessel of peace. Please identify
|
|
yourselves and your intentions.
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: A bit naive, this Captain Picard.
|
|
|
|
Atrophos: The message repeats, once every five minutes.
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: What of this 'Enterprise?' How was she able to
|
|
catch us so quickly?
|
|
|
|
Atrophos: She appears to be very manueverable. And heavily
|
|
shielded, though once her shields are breached she appears
|
|
to have little other means of defense.
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: An armored ship would not be 'a vessel of peace.'
|
|
|
|
Atrophos: Her power plant uses a sophisticated anti-matter
|
|
reaction, regulated by a process with which we are not
|
|
familiar. We have seen no evidence of weaponry, though most
|
|
certainly she must have some means of defense?
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: Most certainly.
|
|
|
|
Atrophos: We could increase our speed. Perhaps leave her
|
|
behind...
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: The Zentradi fleet will be arriving soon. I do
|
|
not want to leave any trace of our passage. Currently, the
|
|
ez-laser turbines are operating at perfect efficiency.
|
|
Increasing speed would begin to generate a trail of crumbs.
|
|
The fewer crumbs Bretai has to go on, the better. I will
|
|
choose the time of our next engagement.
|
|
|
|
Atrophos: You are certain they will follow?
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: They will follow. They have no choice. It is
|
|
what they were made for.
|
|
|
|
Atrophos: And the alien? This 'Enterprise?'
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: We are now the alien, Atrophos. And the
|
|
Enterprise will follow as well.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Poseidal stands up. He walks towards the rear of the
|
|
cavernous bridge, stepping up onto a platform.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: It's what they were made for.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Poseidal disappears in a flash of light and crackling
|
|
energy.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Atrophos [to herself]: And you, Lord Poseidal? What were
|
|
you made for?
|
|
|
|
Poseidal [from the air]: Dear Atrophos, ask you sister -
|
|
the Sleeping Witch.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Enterprise Bridge. Yellow alert.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Picard: Worf, report.
|
|
|
|
Worf: Alien craft holding steady on current course. Moving
|
|
at warp three. No signs off activity in any weapon systems.
|
|
No shields have been raised.
|
|
|
|
Riker: And still no response to our hailing.
|
|
|
|
Worf: Captain, if the alien continues along this course, it
|
|
will violate the neutral zone, and eventually enter Romulan
|
|
space.
|
|
|
|
Riker: That could start a war, Captain.
|
|
|
|
Picard: I don't like it, Number One. But there does not
|
|
appear much we can do about it at the moment.
|
|
|
|
Riker: We could speak a little more directly...
|
|
|
|
Picard: You mean, fire a few shots across their bow? I'm
|
|
not sure I'm prepared to risk breaking into hostilities with
|
|
an alien whose capabilities remain a complete mystery.
|
|
|
|
Riker: We'll have to do something, Captain...
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Picard nods. Several moments of silence go by as the
|
|
Enterprise tracks Poseidal's ship. Picard rubs his
|
|
forehead.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Picard: Worf...
|
|
|
|
Worf: Yes, Captain?
|
|
|
|
Picard: Open a channel to Star Fleet. Maximum security.
|
|
|
|
Worf: At once, Captain. Channel open.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Eventually, an anonymous admiral comes onscreen.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Admiral: Why the security, Jean-Luc?
|
|
|
|
Picard: The alien craft has begun moving, Admiral. They
|
|
have repeatedly ignored all attempts at communication, and
|
|
show no sign of doing so in the near future. They shall,
|
|
however, cross into the Neutral Zone in that near future.
|
|
|
|
Admiral: I see. What do you propose we do?
|
|
|
|
Picard: Actually, Admiral, I was hoping you could provide
|
|
some insight.
|
|
|
|
Admiral [noding]: Yes, well you know how large
|
|
organizations work, Picard. Especially one as
|
|
representative as Star Fleet. I'm afraid I won't be of much
|
|
help - at least not in time. How long until they cross into
|
|
the Neutral Zone?
|
|
|
|
Picard: Data?
|
|
|
|
Data: If they continue to maintain warp three, they shall
|
|
cross the boundary in twelve hours and elven minutes.
|
|
|
|
Admiral: I couldn't even get High Command together in
|
|
twelve hours, Picard...
|
|
|
|
Riker: Admiral, this may provoke an armed conflict with
|
|
Romulus. At the very least, it will give them an excuse for
|
|
some... 'excursions.'
|
|
|
|
Admiral: I recognize that fact, Commander Riker. But I'm
|
|
still afraid you will have to react before I can manage any
|
|
consensus here.
|
|
|
|
Picard: I must admit, Admiral, I was afraid of that.
|
|
|
|
Admiral: I'm sorry, Picard. But if there was anyone I
|
|
would want in this situation, you're the man I'd pick. You
|
|
may act with my full authority. Use it however you wish.
|
|
|
|
Picard: Thank you for the vote of confidence, Admiral.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
The Admiral nods. The screen goes blank. Several moments
|
|
pass.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Riker: Well, Captain?
|
|
|
|
Picard: Worf, contact the nearest Klingon cruisers. Order
|
|
them to rendez-vous with us. Sooner than possible. They
|
|
are to approach fully cloaked.
|
|
|
|
Worf: At once, Captain.
|
|
|
|
Picard: Engineering...
|
|
|
|
Geordi: Yes, Captain.
|
|
|
|
Picard: Divert full shield power to those surfaces facing
|
|
the alien craft...
|
|
|
|
Geordi: Aye, Captain.
|
|
|
|
Picard: Data. Calculate the angles of the alien's heavy
|
|
weaponry. Not so much the main guns, but her more
|
|
maneuverable turrets. Put us someplace she can't get to
|
|
easily.
|
|
|
|
Riker: We're going to attack.
|
|
|
|
Picard: I hope not, Number One. But we're going to get
|
|
their attention. Red alert. All personnel, battle
|
|
stations. This is not a drill. Repeat, this is not a
|
|
drill.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
The klaxons begin to blast. Organized pandemonium breaks
|
|
out. From space, we see the Enterprise swing gracefully into
|
|
position dangerously near Poseidal's dreadnaught.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Picard: Phaser banks, target the alien's gun embankments.
|
|
Hold all fire until my command, and only my command.
|
|
Repeat, hold all fire until my command, and only my command.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Poseidal's ship. Another large chamber, the oval walls of
|
|
which bulge with all manner of strangely biological
|
|
mechanics. Poseidal floats in the center of the chamber,
|
|
showered by light and electricty.
|
|
|
|
A holograph materializes before him. A woman. Tall and
|
|
beautiful. Looking very much like Poseidal himself. AISHA.
|
|
In Poseidal's personal guard - the Mirage Knights - AISHA
|
|
stands first.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Aisha: I know how you love your showers...
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: But, something has come up.
|
|
|
|
Aisha: Yes. The alien...
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: We are the aliens.
|
|
|
|
Aisha: Ahem. A short time back, the native vessel adopted
|
|
a more belligerent profile. It was - and still is - my
|
|
belief that their new stance is intended to elicit some
|
|
response from us...
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: We have been somewhat rude...
|
|
|
|
Aisha: Ahem. Stop interrupting. They have since ceased all
|
|
transmissions and even discharged a few unusual explosive
|
|
devices across our bow.
|
|
|
|
Poseidal [becoming interested]: Oh?
|
|
|
|
Aisha: I thought that would elicit a rise from you. To bad
|
|
nothing else I do does...
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: Back to the point, yes?
|
|
|
|
Aisha: In any event, I allowed all this to transpire
|
|
without giving it much thought...
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: Until...
|
|
|
|
Aisha: Stop interrupting. Until the arrival of five vessels
|
|
- slightly smaller than the Enterprise - however quite
|
|
unusual in that they are invisible to our scanners.
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: If they are invisible, how did you discover them?
|
|
|
|
Aisha: I'm good.
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: And these new arrivals, they are acting in
|
|
concert with the Enterprise?
|
|
|
|
Aisha: Difficult to say.
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: Well, perhaps we have ignored the aliens...
|
|
|
|
Aisha: Natives.
|
|
|
|
Poseidal [laughter]: Yes, the natives, long enough. I'm on
|
|
my way.
|
|
|
|
Aisha: Don't bother to get dressed.
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: Maybe I won't.
|
|
|
|
Aisha: Promises, promises.
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: Perhaps you should pay more attention to what's
|
|
going on outside the ship?
|
|
|
|
Aisha: But what's inside is so much more appealing...
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Poseidal sweeps his hand through the holograph, snapping his
|
|
fingers. Aisha vanishes with a pout.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Worf: Captain, sensor indicate unusual concentrations of
|
|
energy forming on the surface of the alien vessel.
|
|
|
|
Picard: What kind of energy?
|
|
|
|
Worf: The appear to be some manner of shield...
|
|
|
|
Riker: Visible shields.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
On the Enterprise screen, several disks become plainly
|
|
visible - hovering just above the giant craft's hull. The
|
|
disks move smoothly across the surface.
|
|
|
|
Five disks.
|
|
|
|
Plainly discovered, five Klingon warships uncloak. They
|
|
fly, in formation, away from Poseidal's ship.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Worf: Captain! The alien craft is hailing us!
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
The bridge crew exchange glances.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Picard: Counselor, be prepared...
|
|
|
|
Troi: Yes, Captain.
|
|
|
|
Picard: Onscreen.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Poseidal appears on the main viewer. He is dressed in a
|
|
silver robe, with strange, wing-like projections fanning out
|
|
from his shoulders. To his right and slightly behind stands
|
|
Atrophos.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Picard: I am Captain Jean-Luc...
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: Picard, of the U.S.S. Enterprise. Yes, Captain.
|
|
I know that. And I am Oldna Poseidal, and this is my ship -
|
|
the Grand Adas. I apologize for the delay in our response.
|
|
It took me somewhile to make up my mind.
|
|
|
|
Picard: About?
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: About whether you should be taken seriously or
|
|
not.
|
|
|
|
Picard: And?
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: I think that I shall take you seriously.
|
|
|
|
Picard: Seriously enough to explain your pressence?
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: Perhaps we should engage in more personal
|
|
discussions? Do you have docking facilities for a launch?
|
|
|
|
Picard: That won't be necessary. We can beam you directly
|
|
onto our ship. Once you are clear of your vessel's dense
|
|
outer hull...
|
|
|
|
Poseidal [laughter]: I'm afraid, Captain, that I did not
|
|
mean to imply I would come myself.
|
|
|
|
Picard: Oh?
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: No. But tell me more about this 'beaming.' Do
|
|
you mean that you may affect teleportation of individuals
|
|
without need to resort to dedicated platforms?
|
|
|
|
Picard: In a manner of speaking, yes.
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: Fascinating. But you may not pass through the
|
|
outer hull of the Grand Adas?
|
|
|
|
Picard: Not without great technical difficulty.
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: Perhaps you are lying, perhaps not. In any case,
|
|
I would like to send an envoy. Are you prepared to receive
|
|
him?
|
|
|
|
Picard: We are.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Earth.
|
|
|
|
A vast auditorium, crammed with people. The air bristles
|
|
with excited energy. Somewhere lost in the crowd, Wesley
|
|
and his friends wait for Lynn Ming to take to the stage.
|
|
|
|
The singer does so in a crescendo of light - transported in
|
|
from somewhere else.
|
|
|
|
A surge of adulation, and the concert begins.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Far above the planet, the Galaxy-class warship Yamato pulls
|
|
slowly out of space-dock. The Yamato has a smaller saucer-
|
|
section than the Enterprise, and larger engine nacelles.
|
|
She is first and foremost a vessel of war, not exploration.
|
|
The Federation has learned it's lesson from the Borg well:
|
|
the universe is not an idealist's paradise after all.
|
|
|
|
On the Yamato's bridge, Commodore LISA HAYES stares cooly
|
|
into the giant viewscreen. She watches impassively as the
|
|
doors of the spacedock give way to the vastness of space.
|
|
The Yamato moves with silken grace, executing the delicate
|
|
maneuvers flawlessly.
|
|
|
|
Free of the dock, the battleship hovers above the blue
|
|
planet thousands of miles below - a majestic eagle,
|
|
spreading it's wings.
|
|
|
|
Commodore Hayes smiles.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
The concert is over. A grand fete rages in Lynn's honor.
|
|
But the star's attention is focused elsewhere.
|
|
|
|
Wesley fidgets uncomfortably in her embrace. After a short
|
|
while, he is interrupted by the chirp of his communicator.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Lynn: Oh, Wesley. Take it off.
|
|
|
|
Wesley: What?! Here? In front of all these people. I
|
|
can't do that... Oh. My communicator. Right. Well, I
|
|
really shouldn't...
|
|
|
|
Lynn: Take it off, Wesley...
|
|
|
|
Wesley: Let me find out what they want, just this once.
|
|
Then I'll turn it off.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Wesley leaves. Lynn sighs. Kyle walks up.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Kyle: What a twit.
|
|
|
|
Lynn: He is not.
|
|
|
|
Kyle: He's got you fawning all over him and he walks off
|
|
into some closet. I wonder what he's doing in there...
|
|
|
|
Lynn: You really piss me off sometimes, you know that...
|
|
|
|
Kyle: That's my job. Oh, well, look whose back. Wash you
|
|
hands?
|
|
|
|
Wesley: Huh?
|
|
|
|
Lynn: Ignore him, Wesley. Where were we?
|
|
|
|
Wesley: Actually I've got to leave.
|
|
|
|
Lynn: What!?
|
|
|
|
Kyle: Like I said...
|
|
|
|
Lynn: Oh, shut up already! What do you mean, 'leave?'
|
|
|
|
Wesley: Well, I'm sorry. But I've been assigned to the
|
|
Navigation Console aboard the Yamato. She'll be warping out
|
|
in about an hour...
|
|
|
|
Lynn: I'm going to be warping out a lot sooner than that!
|
|
|
|
Wesley: I'm sorry, Lynn. But this is really big...
|
|
|
|
Lynn: I'm really big! Oh, Wesley. You can't just leave me
|
|
like this.
|
|
|
|
Wesley: I have to go. I'm really sorry.
|
|
|
|
[Wesley pops his communiator]
|
|
|
|
Wesley: Beam me up.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
As Wesley starts to dematerialize, Lynn jumps on him.
|
|
Seeing Lynn start to dematerialize, Kyle jumps on her. The
|
|
trio vanishes from the party, to reappear before a very
|
|
startled officer of the Yamato.
|
|
|
|
The three stumble off the transporter platform. Kyle is the
|
|
first one up.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Kyle: You foolish little girl. Look what you've done.
|
|
|
|
Wesley: You shouldn't have done that.
|
|
|
|
Lynn: Of course I should have. You can't just disappear on
|
|
me, just like that...
|
|
|
|
Kyle [to the officer]: Send us back down to the planet
|
|
immediately.
|
|
|
|
Lynn: No!
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Kyle grabs her arm and pulls her up onto the platform.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Kyle: Yes!
|
|
|
|
Lynn: No!
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
The vanish. Wesley grins sheepishly.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Wesley: Sorry about that.
|
|
|
|
Officer: Ah-huh. Commodore Hayes is waiting for you on the
|
|
bridge. She doesn't like surprises.
|
|
|
|
Wesley: Right.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
The bridge of the Grand Adas. Poseidal and Atrophos walk
|
|
along the catwalk.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Atrophos: They asked you to explain your pressence. How
|
|
long has it been since you have needed to explain yourself,
|
|
Lord Poseidal.
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: How do you mean?
|
|
|
|
Atrophos: How long has it been since the coming of Poseidal
|
|
did not mean but one thing, I wonder.
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: That one thing being?
|
|
|
|
Atrophos: Wherever Great Poseidal leads, war and
|
|
destruction follow. Fate has blown a cruel wind toward
|
|
these people, though they know it not. Yet. Death and
|
|
despair are driven before it like dry, burning leaves.
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: I am not the one who will make the war.
|
|
|
|
Atrophos: By being who you are, you will cause the war to
|
|
come. That is what you were made for, Lord Poseidal.
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: There will always be war, dear Atrophos. With or
|
|
without me.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Space.
|
|
|
|
Ripples of light. An explosion. Similar to that which
|
|
preceeded Poseidal's arrival.
|
|
|
|
A fleet of ships. Perhaps forty or fifty. Long, narrow
|
|
ships. Not unlike the Grand Adas, but even the largest of
|
|
the newcomers would still be dwarfed beside Poseidal's
|
|
dreadnaught.
|
|
|
|
On closer inspection, the new ships lack the finish of the
|
|
Grand Adas. Their materials seem more primitive, their
|
|
design more garish.
|
|
|
|
Some of the smaller ships break apart upon arrival,
|
|
vanishing in explosions of fire and steel.
|
|
|
|
The Zentradi fleet.
|
|
|
|
On the bridge of his flagship, BRETAI scans the scene.
|
|
Though there is no meaningful scale by which to measure him,
|
|
Bretai stands nearly twenty meters tall - though he looks
|
|
otherwise human. Half of his face is covered by a steel
|
|
plate, with a large, glowing crystal eye. Slightly behind
|
|
him stand EXEDORE, Bretai's chief advisor. Though a
|
|
comparitive runt to the Zentradi commander, Exedore himself
|
|
stands nearly fourteen meters tall.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Bretai: Seven battleships. Four super-carriers. Eighteen
|
|
heavy cruisers. Twenty-five cruisers. Missing are two
|
|
battleships, one carrier, fifteen heavy cruisers, and thirty
|
|
cruisers. All smaller vessels appear to have perished in
|
|
the transference. We have been reduce to nearly one sixth
|
|
our total capacity...
|
|
|
|
Exedore: It was a tremendous risk, Commander Bretai, to
|
|
follow Poseidal...
|
|
|
|
Bretai: The risk was not in vain. We have arrived. How
|
|
far behind Poseidal?
|
|
|
|
Exedore: Impossible to say. We rode the primary aftershock
|
|
of Poseidal's bio-relation manipulation. We should not be
|
|
far.
|
|
|
|
Bretai: What is the status of our own bio-relation supply?
|
|
|
|
Exedore: Our coils are at 75% of capacity. Some of our
|
|
reserves were disipated by feedback from Gustogol.
|
|
|
|
Bretai: Any estimate of Poseidal's remaining reserve?
|
|
|
|
Exedore: Impossible to say. Gustogol's potential was
|
|
beyond estimation. He most likely drained that world's
|
|
supply to affect this transfer, given the scale of the
|
|
aftershock. Strange.
|
|
|
|
Bretai: How so?
|
|
|
|
Exedore: Poseidal is a creature of the bio-relation energy
|
|
pool. His skill at it's manipulation is second to none.
|
|
Had he desired, surely he could have calculated the amount
|
|
exactly necessary to transfer only the Grand Adas to this
|
|
galaxy. Instead, he used too much, creating an opportunity
|
|
for us to follow.
|
|
|
|
Bretai: I must think on that.
|
|
|
|
Exedore: It is as if he wanted us to follow.
|
|
|
|
Bretai: Perhaps... Perform a bio-relation scan
|
|
immediately. Poseidal will seek out worlds he can bend to
|
|
his purposes. We must destroy those worlds before he is
|
|
able to regenerate the equivalent of Gustogol's reserves.
|
|
We would be no match for him, should he accomplish that.
|
|
|
|
Exedore: The Grand Adas will be formidable, even so.
|
|
|
|
Bretai: Yes. Formidable. Our greatest challenge... Our
|
|
only challenge.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Earth.
|
|
|
|
A dim room. Lynn has her arms wrapped around a flustered
|
|
cadet. A transporter platform is vaguely visible in the
|
|
background.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Lynn: Could you beam me up to the Yamato?
|
|
|
|
Cadet: I could...
|
|
|
|
Lynn: Would you beam me up to the Yamato?
|
|
|
|
Cadet: We'd get in an awful lot of trouble. An awful
|
|
lot...
|
|
|
|
Lynn: You are in an awful lot of trouble...
|
|
|
|
Cadet: I am not! Am I?
|
|
|
|
Lynn: You're all alone. In a dark room. With me. That's
|
|
an awful lot of trouble...
|
|
|
|
Cadet: It is getting pretty hot in here. Maybe we should
|
|
go out...
|
|
|
|
Lynn: Maybe you should beam me up to the Yamato.
|
|
|
|
Cadet: It wouldn't do any good. They'd know someone beamed
|
|
on board, and they'd know where. Security guys would be
|
|
crawling all over you...
|
|
|
|
Lynn: Doesn't sound so bad...
|
|
|
|
Cadet: It would be. And I'd have a lot of explaining to
|
|
do.
|
|
|
|
Lynn: The Yamato will be leaving high orbit soon. On a
|
|
priority mission to some God-forsaken spot. Do it just
|
|
before they warp out, and no-one will do anything about it
|
|
before it's too late...
|
|
|
|
Cadet: How do you know all that...
|
|
|
|
Lynn: I'm good.
|
|
|
|
Cadet: I dunno...
|
|
|
|
Lynn: What do you mean, 'I dunno...'
|
|
|
|
Cadet [nervous reaction]: I mean, I don't know about all
|
|
this beaming around... Not that you aren't good... Not
|
|
that I know...
|
|
|
|
Lynn: I can see I'll have to be more convincing.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
She convinces him.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Meanwhile, somewhere else, Kyle looks around the party for
|
|
Lynn. He stops a private security guard.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Kyle: Where's Lynn?
|
|
|
|
Guard: She went off with some kid. Said she didn't want to
|
|
be bothered. He was looking pretty bothered, though...
|
|
|
|
Kyle: He?
|
|
|
|
Guard: The kid.
|
|
|
|
Kyle: Right. Who was it?
|
|
|
|
Guard: I dunno. Some Starfleet twit.
|
|
|
|
Kyle: I see.
|
|
|
|
Guard: Trouble?
|
|
|
|
Kyle: That girl was made for it.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
The dim room. Lynn stands on the transporter platform. The
|
|
cadet - uniform badly dishelved - works the control panel.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Cadet: This is a real bad idea...
|
|
|
|
Lynn: I'm a real bad girl. Beam me up, Scotty.
|
|
|
|
Cadet: My name isn't Scotty.
|
|
|
|
Lynn: Beam me up anyway.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Kyle bursts into the room. He sees Lynn on the platform and
|
|
immediately rushes over to her. She steps back. He grabs
|
|
her arm.
|
|
|
|
They vanish.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Bretai's command center.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Exedore: No indications of recent bio-relation use in this
|
|
region of space. No trace of the Grand Adas or Poseidal.
|
|
|
|
Bretai: He is here. I feel him. What of bio-relation
|
|
capable worlds?
|
|
|
|
Exedore: No mature sources exist. We are, however,
|
|
detecting three planets with high potential. Anyone of
|
|
which would be suitable to Poseidal's purposes.
|
|
|
|
Bretai: Three? How unfortunate.
|
|
|
|
Exedore: Yes.
|
|
|
|
Bretai: He has not made use of his bio-relation booster
|
|
capability. He has not, therefore, affected another
|
|
transference.
|
|
|
|
Exedore: That is a reasonable conclusion.
|
|
|
|
Bretai: We cannot detect any signature emissions from the
|
|
Grand Adas' ez-laser turbines?
|
|
|
|
Exedore: The technology is unfamiliar to us, but it's
|
|
signature is not. We can detect no sign of Poseidal's
|
|
vessel.
|
|
|
|
Bretai: Potential explanation?
|
|
|
|
Exedore: The ez-laser turbines are known to be exceedingly
|
|
efficient. If the Grand Adas is running at a comparitively
|
|
low speed relative to her potential, she might not emit any
|
|
signature radiations.
|
|
|
|
Bretai: That would fit with Poseidal's tactics: stealth
|
|
and precision. He is moving towards one of these worlds...
|
|
Which one is furthest?
|
|
|
|
Exedore: This one.
|
|
|
|
Bretai: Prepare a transference. We shall go to that world.
|
|
|
|
Exedore: By my estimation, such a transference would
|
|
consume nearly one fourth of our remaining bio-relation
|
|
reserves... Why the furthest potential source?
|
|
|
|
Bretai: We must choose one. To intercept Poseidal before
|
|
he is able to deploy his bio-relation mecha is of the utmost
|
|
necessity. It takes time for the mecha to harvest and
|
|
develop a world's bio-relation potential. Poseidal must
|
|
suspect we are coming, or he would not seek to mask his
|
|
presence. He is playing for time. Were I he, I would
|
|
choose the furthest planet, expecting my foe to investigate
|
|
the nearer ones first.
|
|
|
|
Exedore: Poseidal has never been outmaneuvered on the
|
|
battlefield. He may already have followed such reasoning...
|
|
|
|
Bretai: We must choose one, and I have chosen. We shall
|
|
destroy this distant world, completely and utterly. And
|
|
then we shall destroy one of the other two. Ultimately,
|
|
Poseidal will have no choice but the third. Ready the fleet
|
|
for a transferance.
|
|
Five Star Trek - Part 7:
|
|
|
|
|
|
Last lines of Part 6 -
|
|
|
|
Exedore: Poseidal has never been outmaneuvered on the
|
|
battlefield. He may already have followed such
|
|
reasoning...
|
|
|
|
Bretai: We must choose one, and I have chosen. We shall
|
|
destroy this distant world, completely and utterly. And
|
|
then we shall destroy one of the other two. Ultimately,
|
|
Poseidal will have no choice but the third. Ready the
|
|
fleet for a transferance.
|
|
|
|
|
|
Part 7:
|
|
|
|
|
|
Yamato bridge. Commodore Hayes cuts an enigmatic figure
|
|
before the vessel's huge viewscreen.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Hayes: Warp nine.
|
|
|
|
Wesley: Aye, Commodore.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
From space, we see the Yamato vanish in an explosion of
|
|
light.
|
|
|
|
Returning to the bridge, the ship's security officer looks
|
|
at his screen. He looks up quickly.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Security: Commodore, we seem to have uninvited guests.
|
|
|
|
Hayes: Oh?
|
|
|
|
Security: They beamed aboard, shortly before our departure.
|
|
|
|
Hayes: Who are 'they?'
|
|
|
|
Security: We're checking... Apparently our guests are Lynn
|
|
and Kyle Ming. The celebrities.
|
|
|
|
Hayes: What the hell?
|
|
|
|
Wesley: Oh, sh...
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Bridge of the Grand Adas. Poseidal sits, deep in thought.
|
|
Atrophos appears beside him.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Atrophos: What is the matter, Lord Poseidal?
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: We have guests.
|
|
|
|
Atrophos: The Zentradi?
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: Yes.
|
|
|
|
Atrophos: How many survived the transference, I wonder? So
|
|
great a distance to cross...
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: Seven battleships. Four super-carriers.
|
|
Eighteen heavy cruisers. Twenty-five cruisers. Missing are
|
|
two battleships, one carrier, fifteen heavy cruisers, and
|
|
thirty cruisers. All smaller vessels appear to have
|
|
perished in the transference. They have been reduce to
|
|
nearly one sixth their total capacity...
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
A brilliant, piercing light illuminates the bridge. A
|
|
beautiful woman materializes in it. Impossibly long hair
|
|
wraps and sways about her. A gown of shimmering gold flaps
|
|
in a fiery breeze.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Atrophos [gasping]: Sister! It's Clotho! She's sent us
|
|
her image across the galactic void...
|
|
|
|
Aisha [to Poseidal]: The Sleeping Witch appears to have
|
|
awakened, Lord.
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: Fascinating...
|
|
|
|
Clotho [chanting, musical voice]: Hail, Lord Poseidal!
|
|
Your greatest strike yet, a daring retreat. Not a shot
|
|
fired, yet thousands upon thousands, dead; their bodies
|
|
disipated along the ehtereal winds of the bio-relation pool.
|
|
The Zentradi followed helplessly into your trap. To defeat
|
|
Poseidal has been encoded into their very beign. How could
|
|
they not follow? And now your allies, the Trio de Colus, is
|
|
free to strike as it will - the Zentradi eliminated from the
|
|
field. Breathlessly, Pentagona awaits the return of Great
|
|
Poseidal's victory banners to the towers of Float Temple...
|
|
|
|
|
|
[her voice drops very low]
|
|
|
|
|
|
...I neglected my duties once. Never again. I shall stop
|
|
you, Oldna Poseidal.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
The light fades, Clotho disappearing with it.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Aisha: After two millenia of sleep, stuffed in the cockpit
|
|
of a Mortarr Head, I suppose I'd be a little cranky, myself.
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: It does not take two millenia of sleep, stuffed
|
|
in the cockpit of a Mortarr Head, to make you cranky...
|
|
|
|
Atrophos: I am glad Clotho has finally pulled herself from
|
|
her dreams. A living death, to go on like that for so
|
|
long...
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: I am glad, too.
|
|
|
|
Aisha: Even though she seems intent on stopping you?
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: Stopping me from what? Clotho is a fatima whose
|
|
intentions are not unknown - they are unknowable.
|
|
|
|
Aisha: Perhaps. And the intentions of the Enterprise, and
|
|
her bald - and, might I add, very sexy - Captain?
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: Those we shall know soon enough. Is Rogner
|
|
ready?
|
|
|
|
Aisha: He is.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Enterprise bridge. Picard, Troi, and Riker seated in their
|
|
respective chairs. Formal uniforms. Worf stands behind the
|
|
tactical com, resplendant in the uniform of a decorated
|
|
warrior.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Worf: The Grand Adas is hailing us.
|
|
|
|
Picard: Onscreen.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
[Poseidal's image appears before them. Poseidal, too, has
|
|
dressed for the occasion: his waist-lenght silvery hair is
|
|
pleated and fastened by a number of ornate golden clasps.
|
|
He wears numerous robes which appear to be finely hammered
|
|
sheets of metal - primarily silver with flashes of brilliant
|
|
purples, reds, and violets. From a perfectly scultped,
|
|
pentagonal face, stare his trademark eyes: one gold, one
|
|
blue.]
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: Greetings, Captain Picard of the USS Enterprise.
|
|
My envoy is reader. Falk Rogner, one of the finest Knights
|
|
in Pentagona space.
|
|
|
|
Picard: We are looking forward to the meeting.
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: He will be accompanied by his Fatima. On one
|
|
level, an artificial being. A doll. On another, so much
|
|
more.
|
|
|
|
Picard: An android?
|
|
|
|
Poseidal [laughing]: No. So much more. Artificial, yet
|
|
biological in nature. Yet mechanical as well.
|
|
|
|
Riker: A slave?
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: Of a fashion. But we're all slaves, of a
|
|
fashion. You shall get a better view of us face to face.
|
|
Rogner will leave the Grand Adas in his Mortarr Head.
|
|
Please do not be alarmed by it's appearance.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
[Poseidal fades away]
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Troi: That was odd, Captain.
|
|
|
|
Picard: In what way, Counselor?
|
|
|
|
Troi: There was some manner of deception, but it was
|
|
unspecific.
|
|
|
|
Picard: Common in all diplomacy, Counselor. Do you think
|
|
it a threatening deception?
|
|
|
|
Troi: I don't know what to think yet, Captain. There was
|
|
no hostile intent. But I did sense some kind of a trick -
|
|
working in the background of his thoughts, almost
|
|
subconciously.
|
|
|
|
Riker: Great. An unstable captain at the helm of a
|
|
battleship ten kilometers long...
|
|
|
|
Troi: Not unstable. Very stable. A very precise,
|
|
calculating mind. It will take some time for me to sort
|
|
this out. For the moment, I do not think the situation
|
|
warrants extra-ordinary caution. Just common sense.
|
|
|
|
Picard: Thank you, Counselor. Prepare a methodology for
|
|
narrowing in on what you think odd about Poseidal. Have a
|
|
plan to me within the next five hours.
|
|
|
|
Troi: Yes, Captain.
|
|
|
|
|
|
Worf: Captain, a vessel - roughly sixty meters in length -
|
|
has exited the Grand Adas.
|
|
|
|
Picard: Visual.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
[A wedge shapped craft with two long protrusions at it's for
|
|
appears on screen. The surface is very complex, covered
|
|
with protrusions and carvings.
|
|
|
|
The craft stops several hundred meters from the Enterprise.
|
|
There is the flash of a thruster, and the wedge begins to
|
|
open from the belly. It pulls back to reveal a strikingly
|
|
humanoid form inside.
|
|
|
|
A Mortarr Head.
|
|
|
|
Nearly twenty meters tall, it looks like a giant suit of
|
|
armor - A Cross Mirage.
|
|
|
|
The red, extended cross that is Poseidal's crest flares
|
|
brilliantly on the Mortarr Head's chest]
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Worf: Captain, I cannot believe these sensor readings...
|
|
|
|
Picard: Why is that?
|
|
|
|
Worf: The energy output would make sense for a ship ten...
|
|
perhaps twenty... times that size. More than that, the
|
|
complexity of the onboard systems is phenomenal. Almost...
|
|
|
|
Picard: Almost?
|
|
|
|
Worf: Almost organic, Captain.
|
|
|
|
Troi: It's true, Captain. I can feel a mind. A simple
|
|
mind, almost like a child. It's... afraid?
|
|
|
|
Picard: Afraid? Afraid of what?
|
|
|
|
Troi: Afraid of us, Captain. It has never encountered
|
|
anything like the Enterprise, and is naturally anxious.
|
|
|
|
Riker: Is that Rogner?
|
|
|
|
Data: Negative, Commander Riker. There are three humanoid
|
|
life-forms inside. I believe that is the 'Mortarr Head.'
|
|
|
|
Picard: Three life forms?
|
|
|
|
Data: Yes. One could be what Poseidal termed an
|
|
'artificial' being. The 'artificial' nature of the small
|
|
entity bears a striking resemblance to that of the Mortarr
|
|
Head.
|
|
|
|
Troi: Yes! There is a strong link. Captain, this is
|
|
incredible!
|
|
|
|
Picard: What, Counselor?
|
|
|
|
Troi: Almost a symbiotic connection between the two... The
|
|
'artifical being' - the Fatima, I believe it's called - it's
|
|
soothing the giant. Making it relax.
|
|
|
|
Picard: Fascinating. Worf, report to the transporter room.
|
|
Prepare to bring our guests aboard.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
[Worf exits]
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Riker: Poseidal seemed to indicate two... Yet, we are
|
|
detecting three life forms, in addition to the Mortarr Head?
|
|
|
|
Data: Correct, Commander. One - the Fatima - is situated
|
|
in what would correspond to the cranial cavity of the
|
|
Mortarr Head. Another, in the chest. The third, in one of
|
|
the legs.
|
|
|
|
Picard: How strange...
|
|
|
|
Riker: Which do we bring aboard?
|
|
|
|
Picard: All three, I suppose.
|
|
|
|
Worf [remotely]: Ready, Captain.
|
|
|
|
Picard: Energize.
|
|
|
|
Five Star Trek - Part 8:
|
|
|
|
|
|
Last lines of Part 7 -
|
|
|
|
Riker: Poseidal seemed to indicate two... Yet, we are
|
|
detecting three life forms, in addition to the Mortarr Head?
|
|
|
|
Data: Correct, Commander. One - the Fatima - is situated
|
|
in what would correspond to the cranial cavity of the
|
|
Mortarr Head. Another, in the chest. The third, in one of
|
|
the legs.
|
|
|
|
Picard: How strange...
|
|
|
|
Riker: Which do we bring aboard?
|
|
|
|
Picard: All three, I suppose.
|
|
|
|
Worf [remotely]: Ready, Captain.
|
|
|
|
Picard: Energize.
|
|
|
|
|
|
Part 8:
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Yamato brig. Kyle and Lynn Ming in separate cells. A low-ranking
|
|
guard watches over them, feigning disinterest in his celebrity
|
|
charges.
|
|
|
|
Lynn runs her hand gently over the force field. It glows faintly
|
|
under her touch. Very slowly, she presses out with her fingers,
|
|
and the field gives.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Lynn: Very interesting. By moving very slowly, it is possible
|
|
to pass through the field. At least in parts. When more force
|
|
is applied, more force is returned. The field becomes hard and
|
|
unyielding. Like you...
|
|
|
|
Guard: Who, me? Why say that?
|
|
|
|
Lynn: Hard and unyielding.
|
|
|
|
Guard: I am not!
|
|
|
|
Lynn: Then why do you keep us locked up in these little cages,
|
|
like animals?
|
|
|
|
Guard: I have to!
|
|
|
|
Lynn: You most certainly do not 'have to.' You could let us
|
|
out, but you won't. Because you are hard and unyielding. A
|
|
brute.
|
|
|
|
Guard: That's not fair! If I let you out, then they'd just
|
|
lock you up again, and me with you!
|
|
|
|
Lynn: Would that be so bad?
|
|
|
|
Guard: You know what I mean.
|
|
|
|
Lynn: Hard and unyielding. Do you really think I'm a vicious
|
|
monster? That I'm a threat to this ship? That I'm a Romulan
|
|
spy, perhaps? Is that it? You think I'm a Romulan spy?
|
|
|
|
Guard: Of course not!
|
|
|
|
Lynn [furious]: Then why do you keep me locked up in this stupid
|
|
little cage!?
|
|
|
|
Guard [shocked]: Well, I, it's like... Well, why did you have to
|
|
try and stow away?! Did you ever think of that? Huh? People
|
|
aren't supposed to just beam aboard a starship whenever they
|
|
want!
|
|
|
|
Lynn: You're right. I was terribly wrong and I'm sorry now. I'm
|
|
very sorry to have caused any trouble.
|
|
|
|
Guard: Maybe, uh, maybe I can talk the captain into giving you two
|
|
a room... Maybe something more comfortable...
|
|
|
|
Lynn: Would you do that? Would you really? I'd be very grateful...
|
|
Really, I would.
|
|
|
|
Guard: Well, I'll try. But I can't promise anything, of course...
|
|
|
|
Lynn: I understand. Just trying is enough. Thank so much. So
|
|
very much.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
The guard leaves, flustered.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Kyle: Shameless. You really take the cake...
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Enterprise transporter chamber. Worf and an honor guard are
|
|
present, eyes fixed on the platform. Worf stands respelendent
|
|
in Klingon ceremonial garb.
|
|
|
|
Three beings materialize on the platform, all very human in
|
|
appearance: ROGNER, MAETEL, and SOPP.
|
|
|
|
Rogner stands at least six and a half feet tall. His face,
|
|
narrow and hawk-like, stares out from a voluminous, arched
|
|
hood. His robe pools up on the floor, and is richly
|
|
embroidered with all manner of glittering metals. The red
|
|
cross of Poseidal's Mirage Knights shows prominently.
|
|
|
|
Maetel stands somewhat shorter than her master. She is
|
|
intensely beautiful, with overly large, dark brown eyes. She
|
|
wears a crown-like hat of sligtly dropping fabric, and a
|
|
robe much like Rogner's. Her most striking feature is a large,
|
|
tear shaped gem, set in the center of her forehead.
|
|
|
|
Sopp lacks the regal bearing of the other two. He wears loose
|
|
fitting, silken pantaloons and an even looser fabric tunic. His
|
|
waist-length blond hair is tied in a neat braid falling down
|
|
his back. Sopp's features are very fine and very, very
|
|
androdgynous.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Rogner: Well, well. Look at that, Maetel. If we didn't have
|
|
a little rat tucked away...
|
|
|
|
Maetel: Master. You shouldn't call Sir Sopp a little rat...
|
|
|
|
Rogner: But he is a little rat.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Rogner takes a playful swipe at Sopp, who dances out of reach
|
|
easily.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Worf: Greetings. I am Lieutenant Commander Worf, Chief Security
|
|
Officer for the Starship Enterprise. I would like to welcome
|
|
you aboard.
|
|
|
|
Maetel: Greetings, Sir Worf.
|
|
|
|
Rogner: Thanky you for you warm welcome. I must say, I've never
|
|
teleported beyond the confines of my Mortarr Head. A
|
|
fascinating experience. Do you do it often?
|
|
|
|
Worf: We make frequent use of the transporter. Yes.
|
|
|
|
Rogner: Fascinating. Isn't it, Sopp?
|
|
|
|
Sopp: Not a bad trick.
|
|
|
|
Worf: Forgive my inquiry, but we were expecting only... two.
|
|
|
|
Rogner: So was I. But Sopp's not such a bad sort. It will
|
|
be fun having him aboard, I'm sure. But excuse me, Commander
|
|
Worf. I have been lax. My name, Falk Rogner. Mirage Knight and
|
|
Lord of Babiron. Maetel, my fatima. And young Ladious Sopp, the
|
|
finest Mortarr Head meight in all Pentagona.
|
|
|
|
Sopp: You flatter me. It will get you nowhere.
|
|
|
|
Rogner: But you love it anyway.
|
|
|
|
Sopp: I do.
|
|
|
|
Worf: I shall take you to meet the Captain now.
|
|
|
|
Rogner: Excellent.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Bretai's flag ship - the Nupetiet.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Bretai: Are you prepared, Commander Azonia?
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
A holographic image of a woman appears before Bretai. A zentradi,
|
|
powerfully built, she carries herself with pride and conviction.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Azonia: I am, Supreme Commander.
|
|
|
|
Bretai: Excellent. You shall be the vanguard of our assualt.
|
|
|
|
Azonia: It is a great honor, Supreme Commander.
|
|
|
|
Bretai: We know nothing of these stars or their inhabitants.
|
|
Their capabilities are a mystery to us. I do not want to
|
|
commit the entire fleet with so much unknown. Your principle
|
|
duty is to appraise the situation and report immediately. Is
|
|
that clear?
|
|
|
|
Azonia: Yes, Supreme Commander. My performance shall not
|
|
disappoint you.
|
|
|
|
Bretai: It never has. That is all. Execute the transference
|
|
immediately.
|
|
|
|
Azonia: As you command.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
The holograph vanishes.
|
|
|
|
From space, we see a group of five vessels break away from the main
|
|
fleet. Rivulets of electricity dance across their surface. Then,
|
|
a consuming ball of light. Then, nothing.
|
|
Five Star Trek - Part 9:
|
|
|
|
|
|
Last lines of Part 8 -
|
|
|
|
Azonia: Yes, Supreme Commander. My performance shall not
|
|
disappoint you.
|
|
|
|
Bretai: It never has. That is all. Execute the transference
|
|
immediately.
|
|
|
|
Azonia: As you command.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
The holograph vanishes.
|
|
|
|
From space, we see a group of five vessels break away from the main
|
|
fleet. Rivulets of electricity dance across their surface. Then,
|
|
a consuming ball of light. Then, nothing.
|
|
|
|
Part 9:
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Enterprise conference room. Picard and his senior officers seated,
|
|
along with Rogner and Maetel. Sopp is not present.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Picard: Well, Sir Rogner, I it would be a lie to state
|
|
the Federation is not made a bit uneasy by your arrival.
|
|
|
|
Rogner: That is certainly understandable, Captain Picard. It is,
|
|
however, an unecessary unease. Poseidal has no hostile intention
|
|
towards your Federation...
|
|
|
|
Riker: But he does have hostile intention?
|
|
|
|
Maetel: Hostily follows Great Poseidal like carrion fowl. His soul is
|
|
a battlefield, and he the greatest commander who has ever lived.
|
|
|
|
Worf: You expect the Federation to initiate hostilities?
|
|
|
|
Rogner: No.
|
|
|
|
Riker: Someone else, then?
|
|
|
|
Rogner: I cannot predict the future, Commander... Riker, isn't it?
|
|
Yes. Riker. No, I cannot predict who or when. I think you are
|
|
overlooking the when. There may not be war for generations...
|
|
|
|
Troi: Excuse me, Sir Rogner, but you do not believe that.
|
|
|
|
Rogner: I don't?
|
|
|
|
Troi: No. You do not.
|
|
|
|
Rogner: What do I believe?
|
|
|
|
Troi: I cannot say what you believe. Only what you do not. You
|
|
do not believe it will be generations before there is conflict.
|
|
And you are holding back from us.
|
|
|
|
Rogner: You think it is our intent to attack you?
|
|
|
|
Troi: No. I believe you are sincere about that. But you feel
|
|
conflict - of some kind - is much closer. Much.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
There is a long pause. Everyone looks at Rogner expectantly.
|
|
Maetel bows her head slightly.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Maetel: It is very close.
|
|
|
|
Rogner: Or so we two think. Only Poseidal, and perhaps the Lady
|
|
Aisha, know.
|
|
|
|
Picard: Conflict with who?
|
|
|
|
Rogner: It is Poseidal's belief that we shall be pursued to this
|
|
galaxy. His belief and his intention is such. However, we
|
|
cannot be certain those in pursuit have the means to affect the
|
|
journey. Nor can we be certain when they will arrive. If ever.
|
|
|
|
Picard: Who?
|
|
|
|
Rogner: 'What' would be more accurate. The Zentradi bear a
|
|
superficial resemblance to you and I. If you overlook the
|
|
average one stands what... fifteen, twenty meters tall.
|
|
|
|
Riker: Meters?
|
|
|
|
Rogner: A genetically engineered race bent on one thing...
|
|
and one thing only. The defeat of Poseidal. Should they
|
|
come, Captain, the Zentradi will pay scant attention to your
|
|
Federation. They will be interested only in us.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Bridge of the Federation scount Agama. Yellow alert. Tense.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Navigator: We will cross the real-space manifestations of the
|
|
sub-space shock in minutes, captain. Sensors still reporting
|
|
negative. Whatever it is, it's being awfully quiet.
|
|
|
|
Captain: Quiet, now.
|
|
|
|
Science Officer: Perhaps the explosion... Wait... I am detecting
|
|
five masses. The largest, approximately three thousand meters in
|
|
length. The others, roughly half that. Cylinder shapped. Not
|
|
moving. Very low energy emissions...
|
|
|
|
Captain: Life forms?
|
|
|
|
Science Officer: Difficult to say at this time, Captain.
|
|
|
|
Captain: Notify Starfleet immediately.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Bridge of Azonia's command craft, Madnug Reczi. A holographic form
|
|
appears before her.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Holo: The tiny craft continues to approach. They know we are here,
|
|
Commander.
|
|
|
|
Azonia: The bio-relation transference has never been subtle.
|
|
Capabilities?
|
|
|
|
Holo: Strong shields. Weapon systems unknown. Radiation signatures
|
|
point to sustained anti-matter reaction in engine cores. Sophisticated
|
|
technology...
|
|
|
|
Azonia: ...weak minds. Ready main battery. Fire on my command.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Space.
|
|
|
|
The Agama cruises slowly past.
|
|
|
|
Space.
|
|
|
|
The Madnug Reczi pulls apart from the other ships. Small droplets of
|
|
light form on her surface, growing in intensity. Without warning,
|
|
lances of brilliant energy flare from the droplets, screaming out
|
|
into the void.
|
|
|
|
The Agama. She swerves quickly. An impressive, well-executed
|
|
manuever - too late. Too many beams. Several strike home. For
|
|
an instant, the shields hold against the battleships massive guns.
|
|
|
|
Then the shields are gone.
|
|
|
|
In an instant, the Agama is destroyed in the onslaught. Still more
|
|
beams vaporize the debris.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Enterprise conference room.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Data: In approximately one hour, Sir Rogner, you vessel - the Grand
|
|
Adas - will leave unclaimed space and enter what we know as the
|
|
Neutral Zone. This will be a territorial violation of Romulan space.
|
|
Furthermore, on it's current course, the Grand Adas will move along
|
|
the Romulan-Klingon border - perhaps the most heavily patroled and
|
|
fortified border known to us.
|
|
|
|
Rogner: And these Romulans are not a part of your Federation?
|
|
|
|
Worf: Certainly not!
|
|
|
|
Riker: And they're touchy about their territorial integrity. You may
|
|
have conflict even sooner than you might have imagined.
|
|
|
|
Rogner: That does not distress me, Commander. Rather, it relieves
|
|
me. A concrete foe is much better than a phantom.
|
|
|
|
Picard: Even so, we would prefer to avoid a war...
|
|
|
|
Rogner: Then, by all means, do so. Certainly you wouldn't expect
|
|
Poseidal to feel any obligation on your part...
|
|
|
|
Picard: I'm afraid it's more complicated than that. If this
|
|
vessel - or rather, if the Grand Adas - were to violate Romulan
|
|
space, they would seize upon the opportunity for militaristic
|
|
adventurism...
|
|
|
|
Rogner: No, they would not, Captain.
|
|
|
|
Picard: Oh? Why is that?
|
|
|
|
Rogner: They would have their hands full with us, Captain Picard.
|
|
|
|
Worf: Surely you can't mean to throw one ship against the Romulan
|
|
Empire?
|
|
|
|
Rogner: I know nothing of the Romulan Empire and everything about
|
|
this 'one ship.' If these Romulans are as vicious as you are
|
|
beginning to make me think they are...
|
|
|
|
Worf: They are more so.
|
|
|
|
Rogner: Then my more so my point: if you still exist, then this
|
|
'one ship' will be more than enough to keep their hands full.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
A cabin aboard the Yamato. Lynn looks around. Kyle enters through
|
|
a side door.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Lynn: Not the Ritz, but it will do. Much better than that awful
|
|
detention cell, yes?
|
|
|
|
Kyle: You're going to act like everything's just fine, aren't you?
|
|
|
|
Lynn: Everything is just fine. We're not locked up anymore, are
|
|
we?
|
|
|
|
Kyle: You know perfectly well what I mean.
|
|
|
|
Lynn: I certainly don't. How am I supposed to know what you mean?
|
|
You always act as if I'm suppose to be reading your mind. Well, I'm
|
|
not and I can't. So why don't you explain yourself.
|
|
|
|
Kyle: Never mind. Everything's fine. Just fine. I'm going back to
|
|
my room now. To get some rest.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Bretai's flagship. The towering commander dismisses a holograph of
|
|
Azonia. He turns to Exedore.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Bretai: Azonia has reported. All is well. Have all craft completed
|
|
their preparations for a bio-relation transference?
|
|
|
|
Exedore: They have.
|
|
|
|
Bretai: Excellent. Initiate the transference.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Enterprise transporter room. Picard and his officers present. Rogner
|
|
and Maetel stand on the platform. Sopp stands by Picard.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Picard: We regret Poseidal's apparent insistence on violating Romulan
|
|
space. Quite assuredly, nothing good will come of it.
|
|
|
|
Maetel: Such has always been Lord Poseidal's way.
|
|
|
|
Picard: Well, in any event, I'm glad Mr. Sopp will be remaining aboard
|
|
the Enterprise. My Chief Engineer has been very impressed with his
|
|
command of engineering principles. He reminds of us of another boy -
|
|
er, young man - we know...
|
|
|
|
Maetel: Do not be deceived by appearances, Captain Picard. Our average
|
|
life span is four hundred years. Sir Sopp only looks the part of a boy.
|
|
|
|
Rogner: And should anything befall us, you will not have a finer
|
|
repository of our science than he.
|
|
|
|
Sopp: Romulan? Befall you? What are you talking about, Rogner?
|
|
|
|
Rogner: Nothing to worry about, Sir Sopp. Nothing at all.
|
|
|
|
Sopp: Is the Grand Adas about to enter hostile space?
|
|
|
|
Riker: Very hostile.
|
|
|
|
Sopp: Perhaps I shouldn't stay aboard the Enterprise...
|
|
|
|
Rogner: Don't be silly, Sopp.
|
|
|
|
Sopp: Will the Enterprise be following us?
|
|
|
|
Picard: No.
|
|
|
|
Rogner: But we have made arrangements to re-collect you.
|
|
|
|
Sopp: If...
|
|
|
|
Rogner: Don't worry. Well, I have rather enjoyed this, Captain Picard,
|
|
but I'm afraid it's time for us to be on our way. Behave yourself, Sir
|
|
Sopp.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Space.
|
|
|
|
|
|
The Betazed system, though it is not yet recognizeable as such. The
|
|
star is but a distant dot, eclipsed by the spectacular arrival of
|
|
Bretai's fleet.
|
|
|
|
The bridge of Bretai's flagship.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Bretai: Azonia, report.
|
|
|
|
Azonia [holo]: All is well, Supreme Commander. Three alien craft have
|
|
been engaged and destroyed.
|
|
|
|
Bretai: Tactical analysis.
|
|
|
|
Azonia: The aliens have manueverable craft, strong shields, and potent
|
|
weapons. However, they are relatively fragile without their shields,
|
|
and possess only a limited number of weapon banks. I do not anticipate
|
|
difficulty destroying this world.
|
|
|
|
Bretai: Excellent. All ships, proceed toward target at maximum speed.
|
|
Prepare Noose mecha and Gamalon devices. I want this to be a quick
|
|
strike. I want Poseidal to know we have followed; and to know that we
|
|
are as strong as ever!
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Picard's ready room. Troi and Riker present.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Picard [voice-over]: Captains log, supplemental. We have disengaged
|
|
the Grand Adas, prefering not to come too close to the Neutral Zone.
|
|
I cannot predict what will come of this, but I am very pessimistic
|
|
that it will be something to look forward too. We are currently en
|
|
route to rendez-vous with the U.S.S. Yamato.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Troi: There were several aspects of this encounter I felt odd,
|
|
Captain. You'll recall that I though Poseidal was being deceptive
|
|
when we last talked to him?
|
|
|
|
Picard: Yes. I told you to narrow in on your suspicions. Have
|
|
you succeeded?
|
|
|
|
Troi: I have, to a point. He was acting, Captain. Playing a role.
|
|
That is the deception. Playing an old role very well.
|
|
|
|
Picard: We all play roles, Counselor...
|
|
|
|
Troi: No, Captain. I mean in the 'acting' sense - it's difficult
|
|
to explain - he was not playing the role of general or lord, he
|
|
was 'playing' the role of Poseidal.
|
|
|
|
Riker: Why?
|
|
|
|
Troi: That, I cannot answer.
|
|
|
|
Picard: What of Rogner and Maetel - and perhaps most importantly -
|
|
what of our new guest.
|
|
|
|
Troi: More enigma's, Captain. These three control themselves with
|
|
varying degrees of skill. Ladious Sopp, our guest, most of all.
|
|
|
|
Riker: More than the Headliner? Rogner?
|
|
|
|
Troi: Much. Rogner had a knight's bearing: calm, always collected,
|
|
honorable. But with Sopp, I can read nothing. Nothing at all. Maetel
|
|
- the 'artificial' being - showed tremendous depth of emotion, but only
|
|
in short bursts. Like the door of a furnace, opened only brielfly.
|
|
Then, absolute control. Nothing getting out.
|
|
|
|
Riker: Not what I would have expected. Those two seemed almost like
|
|
children...
|
|
|
|
Troi: The attitude of Rogner and Maetel to Sopp was equally strange.
|
|
The two of them were genuinely surprised at Sopp's presence.
|
|
Surprised, curious, and almost afraid. When Maetel warned us not to
|
|
judge Sopp too quickly, she meant it. When Rogner told us no finer
|
|
repository of their science existed, he meant it. When Rogner told
|
|
Sopp not to worry and to stay on the Enterprise, Rogner betrayed
|
|
emotions one would expect in someone who had played a good joke.
|
|
Turned the tables.
|
|
|
|
Picard: That was after we mentioned the Romulans... And the
|
|
possibility of conflict...
|
|
|
|
Troi: Yes.
|
|
|
|
Riker: Something Sopp had not expected, and would have changed
|
|
his plans to stay otherwise...
|
|
|
|
Picard: We had better keep a very close eye on our new androgyne...
|
|
|
|
Worf [via comm]: Captain! Urgent priority message from Star Fleet!
|
|
|
|
Picard: On my way.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Picard gets up quickly and exits the ready room. Riker and Troi
|
|
follow close behind. On the bridge, an admiral looks direly
|
|
towards them as they enter.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Admiral: We've got trouble, Picard.
|
|
|
|
Five Star Trek - Part 10:
|
|
|
|
|
|
Last lines of Part 9 -
|
|
|
|
Worf [via comm]: Captain! Urgent priority message from Star Fleet!
|
|
|
|
Picard: On my way.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Picard gets up quickly and exits the ready room. Riker and Troi
|
|
follow close behind. On the bridge, an admiral looks direly
|
|
towards them as they enter.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Admiral: We've got trouble, Picard.
|
|
|
|
Part 10:
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Bretai's command chamber. Holographic projections of Federation ships
|
|
(smaller, pseudo-military craft - even merchant craft) swarm about him.
|
|
With an unfeeling, cybernetic eye, he watches as they are vaporized
|
|
beneath the overwhelming onslaught of Zentradi guns.
|
|
|
|
Eventually, the void above Betazed is clear.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Azonia: Supreme Commander, as tactical lead, it is my honor to inform
|
|
you all space-based resistance - if it can be called such - has been
|
|
eliminated.
|
|
|
|
Bretai: Excellent. Deploy the Noose of Poseidal... How satisfying,
|
|
Azonia, to eliminate a bio-relation capable world with an instrument
|
|
of the dictators own devising...
|
|
|
|
Azonia: It shall be done.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Enterprise bridge.
|
|
|
|
Picard watches the last transmission of the Agama: they approach the
|
|
mysterious Zentradi ships cautiously. Bubbles of light form on the
|
|
surface of the alien vessels. The Agama begins to take evasive
|
|
action. The bubbles erupt into geysers of energy. The Agama cannot
|
|
react in time. A force of beams surround the ship. The shields take
|
|
several hits, then crumple. The camera transmits an image of the bridge
|
|
nano-seconds before being reduced to sub-atomic detrius.
|
|
|
|
Picard watches this over and over. The rest of the bridge crew stare on
|
|
in horror.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Riker: It's the Borg, all over again...
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Picard shudders.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Worf [remotely]: I have Ladious Sopp with me now, Captain. We will be
|
|
on the bridge in moments.
|
|
|
|
Riker: You thinkI?
|
|
|
|
Picard: That we've been setup? I don't know what to think, yet, Mr.
|
|
Riker. I shall wait to form an opinion. How far off is the Yamato?
|
|
|
|
Data: We have altered course for Betazed, as has the Yamato. Our
|
|
initial rendez-vous must, therefore, be revised. The courses of
|
|
the two vessels shall intersect in approximately three hours.
|
|
|
|
Troi: And Betazed? How long until we reach...
|
|
|
|
Data: Much longer...
|
|
|
|
Troi: Too long?
|
|
|
|
Sopp: Too long.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
The crew turns. Worf and Sopp stand at the turbo lift doors. Sopp's
|
|
head is slightly bowed. He wears voluminous silken clothes, of a style
|
|
similar to Renaisance Italy, only far more ethereal. He appears very
|
|
feminine and very sad.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Sopp: Too long. That world, and all life on it, are doomed.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Space. Above Betazed, the entire Zentradi fleet manuevers slowly.
|
|
Deliberately. The forward sections of the largest vessels pull
|
|
back, disgorging strange, pulsing orbs. The satelites move away from
|
|
the fleet, orbiting about the planet.
|
|
|
|
Bretai's command chamber.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Exedore: The Noose has been set. All systems reporting fully
|
|
operational and awaiting your command.
|
|
|
|
Bretai: Initate secondary sequence.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Space. The Zentradi fleet re-arranges itself into a wedge. Slowly
|
|
and deliberately.
|
|
|
|
Bretai's command chamber.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Exedore: Capital ships in place. Ready for final phase.
|
|
|
|
Bretai: Engage the Noose of Poseidal. Order Gamalon Bomber craft to
|
|
commence tectonic analysis.
|
|
|
|
Exedore: Surely the Noose will be sufficient...
|
|
|
|
Bretai: Question not. Obey.
|
|
|
|
Exedore: Of course, Supreme Commander. Readying seed firing sequence.
|
|
Other battleships reporting. All systems, synchronized.
|
|
|
|
Bretai: Fire when ready.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Space. Bretai's command ship. Globes of light form about it's forward
|
|
section. Her main guns fire. Massive, brilliant beams, they lance
|
|
forward, coalescing into one snaking strand of energy. We follow it's
|
|
tip.
|
|
|
|
It strikes one of strange orbs. The orb pulses, but is not destroyed.
|
|
Instead, it re-emits the strand, which snakes out into space again.
|
|
And again, it strikes another of the orbs, maintaining it's link to
|
|
the previous. The process continues.
|
|
|
|
Back at the Zentradi fleet, the other vessels in the wedge fire, their
|
|
weapon beams converging on the first orb. It absorbs the energy and
|
|
adds it to the original strand.
|
|
|
|
Eventually, a stream of fire encircles Betazed, thousands of miles
|
|
above the surface.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Exedore: Noose fully engaged, Supreme Commander.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Enterprise bridge.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Picard: These are Zentradi ships?
|
|
|
|
Sopp: They are. Only five? Interesting. Bretai has never been one
|
|
for excessive caution...
|
|
|
|
Picard: There are more?
|
|
|
|
Sopp: Perhaps sixty in all. A little less.
|
|
|
|
Riker: Sixty ships nearly two kilometers in length?!
|
|
|
|
Sopp: Size varies. None are so large as the Grand Adas. None posses
|
|
but a fraction of the firepower...
|
|
|
|
Picard: Perhaps a boast, Mr. Sopp?
|
|
|
|
Sopp: Not a boast, Picard. Is this world... Betazed?... a member of
|
|
your Federation?
|
|
|
|
Picard: It is.
|
|
|
|
Sopp: I am sorry, Captain.
|
|
|
|
Picard: You believe they will attack it?
|
|
|
|
Sopp: They will obliterate it, Captain. They will eradicate all traces
|
|
of life, down to the most primitive of microbes.
|
|
|
|
Picard [snorts]: Please, Mr. Sopp... We have little time, or patience,
|
|
for youthful exaggeration. Three Federation vessels have been
|
|
destroyed, and I would like - very much - to get some information. Now,
|
|
will you cooperate?
|
|
|
|
Sopp: Of course, Captain Picard. That is why I remained behind on this
|
|
vessel. In anticipation of Bretai's arrival... But I am afraid it is
|
|
not youthful exaggeration, Captain. Bretai means to destroy Poseidal.
|
|
And towards that end, Betazed must perish...
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Bretai's command chamber.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Exedore: It's begun...
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
From space, we watch as the cord of energy contacts, drawing nearer and
|
|
nearer to the planets surface. The band almost disappears in scale
|
|
against the planet, but as soon as it contacts the upper atmosphere,
|
|
steams of ionized gas burst out, swelling the size considerable.
|
|
A fury of electicity rages away from the Noose as it sits, stationary,
|
|
only a few hundred miles now above the surface.
|
|
|
|
And then the Noose begins to move. As it rotates, the ion storm
|
|
expands. As it expands, the Noose increases speed.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Exedore: The Noose is functioning perfectly. In a matter of hours,
|
|
the atmosphere will be transformed into a ball of plasma, dissipating
|
|
rapidly into space...
|
|
|
|
Bretai: I am familiar with the process, Exedore. Has the tectonic
|
|
analysis been completed?
|
|
|
|
Exedore: Yes, Supreme Commander.
|
|
|
|
Bretai: Launch the Gammalon devices.
|
|
|
|
Exedore: Launching.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Impassively, Bretai watches the holographic bombs - huge, pitted
|
|
meteorites - descend on Betazed. They scream towards the surface,
|
|
even as it is obscured by the growing cloud of ionized gas.
|
|
|
|
The bombs fall, by the hundreds, along every major fault line of
|
|
the planet's geological plates. As they strike, hundreds of megatons
|
|
of energy catapult towards the heavens - the atomic plasmas mixing
|
|
with the steadily worsening ion and plasma storms unleashed by the
|
|
Noose.
|
|
|
|
An image near him shows Bretai the surface of Betazed as it cracks
|
|
like hot glass thrust into ice water.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Enterprise bridge.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Sopp: Believe me, Captain Picard. I do not exagerrate.
|
|
|
|
Path: moe.ksu.ksu.edu!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!caen!uunet!decwrl!stanford.edu!ames!data.nas.nasa.gov!taligent!apple!apple!mcmelmon
|
|
From: mcmelmon@taligent.com (Matthew C. Melmon)
|
|
Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
|
|
Subject: Five Star Trek - Second Half (REPOST)
|
|
Message-ID: <30747@goofy.Apple.COM>
|
|
Date: 17 Sep 92 21:48:14 GMT
|
|
Sender: usenet@Apple.COM
|
|
Organization: Apple Computer, Inc.
|
|
Lines: 3501
|
|
|
|
Five Star Trek - Part 11:
|
|
|
|
|
|
Impassively, Bretai watches the holographic bombs - huge, pitted
|
|
meteorites - descend on Betazed. They scream towards the surface,
|
|
even as it is obscured by the growing cloud of ionized gas.
|
|
|
|
The bombs fall, by the hundreds, along every major fault line of
|
|
the planet's geological plates. As they strike, hundreds of megatons
|
|
of energy catapult towards the heavens - the atomic plasmas mixing
|
|
with the steadily worsening ion and plasma storms unleashed by the
|
|
Noose.
|
|
|
|
An image near him shows Bretai the surface of Betazed as it cracks
|
|
like hot glass thrust into ice water.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Enterprise bridge.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Sopp: Believe me, Captain Picard. I do not exagerrate.
|
|
|
|
Part 11:
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Bretai's command chamber.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Bretai: It is done. Prepare the fleet for a second transferance.
|
|
We shall rid this region of it's second bio-relation world, and
|
|
Poseidal shall be left with no choice but to concentrate his
|
|
efforts on the third.
|
|
|
|
Exedore: These transferences will leave our bio-relation reserves
|
|
badly drainedI
|
|
|
|
Bretai: We shall not perform a transference to the third world.
|
|
The final confrontation nears, Exedore. It is very near. I
|
|
can feel it. And past that, what need shall we have for Poseidal's
|
|
precious bio-relation.
|
|
|
|
Exedore: Yes. What needI
|
|
|
|
Bretai: Commander Azonia!
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Shortly, Azonia's image appears.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Azonia: Hail, Supreme Commander. Congratulations for a flawless
|
|
execution.
|
|
|
|
Bretai: Your praise is appreciated, Commander. You are to
|
|
remain in this system, with your task force, prepared for
|
|
battle should Poseidal appear.
|
|
|
|
Azonia: It will be a great honor, Supreme Commander. I am in
|
|
your debt.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Bretai nods. Azonia's image is dismissed.
|
|
|
|
|
|
Bretai: Affect the transference once all ships report ready.
|
|
|
|
Exedore: Yes, Supreme Commander.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Enterprise bridge. Counselor Troi screams out in horror and in
|
|
pain. The bridge crew rushes to her. Sopp looks on, impassively.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Picard: Counselor! Counselor, what is it!
|
|
|
|
Troi: Billions... Oh, Captain, there were billions...
|
|
|
|
Sopp: It is done. Another world will die, and yet a third may.
|
|
|
|
Picard: You can't seriously expect us to believe all life on an
|
|
entire world has been eradicated?
|
|
|
|
Sopp: It doesn't matter if you believe it now, Captain. You will.
|
|
|
|
Troi: It's true, Captain... I'm sure. It's true. All dead...
|
|
|
|
Riker: Two other worlds? Which two?
|
|
|
|
Sopp: I can't call them by any name. But I could, perhaps, show
|
|
youI If this point is where the Grand Adas arrived [Sopp extends a
|
|
finger and points to an imaginary spot] and this point is the
|
|
world 'Betazed'... [he points to another spot] Do you have stellar
|
|
maps which would be of assistance, Captain?
|
|
|
|
Data: If you continue in your current metaphorical exposition, I
|
|
will be able to translate the imaginary points into their
|
|
corresponding systems, given the scale you have established.
|
|
|
|
Sopp: Really? Very impressive... Let me start again. If this
|
|
point is where the Grand Adas arrived...
|
|
|
|
Data: Yes.
|
|
|
|
Sopp: And this point is Betazed...
|
|
|
|
Data: Yes.
|
|
|
|
Sopp: Than this will be the second world to die...
|
|
|
|
Data: Working... There are three systems within the area of
|
|
space that may be relevant.
|
|
|
|
Sopp: The world will have a very advanced biosphere.
|
|
|
|
Data: There are no high-order life forms in any of the three
|
|
systems...
|
|
|
|
Sopp: That is not necessary. Only that there be life. A great
|
|
deal of life.
|
|
|
|
Data: Alpha Bellune 5. An aquatic world.
|
|
|
|
Riker: Unihabited?
|
|
|
|
Picard: I've heard of Alpha Bellune...
|
|
|
|
Data: The world is, technically, unihabited. As a zoological and
|
|
environmental treasure, it is being monitored very closely from
|
|
an orbital research station. Among the stations inhabitants is
|
|
Alder'k San, one of Vulcan's foremost scientific minds.
|
|
|
|
Picard: Get through to Star Fleet immediately. Order the research
|
|
station at Alpha Bellune abandoned. Abandoned at once!
|
|
|
|
Riker: And the third world?
|
|
|
|
Sopp: Bretai is lopping of the ends - going for those worlds most
|
|
distant and nearest the spot of our arrival... The third world is
|
|
here.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Data does not immediately respond.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Picard: Well, Commander Data? Which world.
|
|
|
|
Data: There is only one system in the relevant area which matches
|
|
the criteria...
|
|
|
|
Picard: Well? Which world?
|
|
|
|
Data: Captain, it is... Earth.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Lynn Ming's room aboard the Yamato. The singer sits very erect on
|
|
her bed. Kyle slumps down in a chair.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Kyle: Did you hear a word I said?
|
|
|
|
Lynn: Of course I did. I'm not deaf. What kind of question is
|
|
that.
|
|
|
|
Kyle: And?
|
|
|
|
Lynn: And what?
|
|
|
|
Kyle: And what are you going to do about it?
|
|
|
|
Lynn: About what?
|
|
|
|
Kyle [shouting]: About everything I just told you!
|
|
|
|
Lynn: Don't shout at me.
|
|
|
|
Kyle: Lynn, when are you going to stop acting like a God-damned
|
|
spoiled rotten little punk of a school-girl?
|
|
|
|
Lynn: What a terrible thing to say...
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
There is a chirp from the door.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Lynn: Yes? Who is there?
|
|
|
|
Wesley: It's me.
|
|
|
|
Lynn: Oh! Wesley! Come in, already! What are you doing,
|
|
standing out in the hall...? Come in!
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Wesley enters.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Wesley: Hello, Lynn. Hello, Kyle.
|
|
|
|
Kyle: Hello.
|
|
|
|
Lynn: Oh, I'm so glad to finally see you...
|
|
|
|
Wesley: Well, I can't stay long...
|
|
|
|
Lynn: You're mad.
|
|
|
|
Wesley: I'm not mad.
|
|
|
|
Lynn: You are too. I can always tell when people are mad at
|
|
me. It happens so frequently. Really, I don't know what to do
|
|
with you people. You're all so damn serious all the time...
|
|
|
|
Wesley: The Federation may be at war.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Lynn stops and looks up at him, disbeleiving.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Kyle: Come again?
|
|
|
|
Wesley: The world of Betazed has been completely destroyed.
|
|
|
|
Kyle: Destroyed? What do you mean, 'destroyed.'
|
|
|
|
Wesley: I mean all life on the planet, gone! That's what I
|
|
mean! I mean an alien race that doesn't share the noble soul
|
|
of Kyle Ming took a dislike to four or five billion people
|
|
and wipped them out of the universe! I mean destroyed.
|
|
I mean war.
|
|
|
|
Lynn: War. Always a new war... The Klingons. The Romulans.
|
|
The Borg. Always a new war.
|
|
|
|
Wesley: Nothing like this. Never a whole world. Gone. It's
|
|
a lifeless, barren, severely radio-active rock.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Wesley sits down on the bed, almost in a daze.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Wesley: A dead rock.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Lynn puts her arm around him.
|
|
Five Star Trek - Part 12
|
|
|
|
Last lines - Part 11:
|
|
|
|
|
|
Wesley: I mean all life on the planet, gone! That's what I
|
|
mean! I mean an alien race that doesn't share the noble soul
|
|
of Kyle Ming took a dislike to four or five billion people
|
|
and wipped them out of the universe! I mean destroyed.
|
|
I mean war.
|
|
|
|
Lynn: War. Always a new war... The Klingons. The Romulans.
|
|
The Borg. Always a new war.
|
|
|
|
Wesley: Nothing like this. Never a whole world. Gone. It's
|
|
a lifeless, barren, severely radio-active rock.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Wesley sits down on the bed, almost in a daze.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Wesley: A dead rock.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Lynn puts her arm around him.
|
|
|
|
|
|
Part 12:
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Enterprise bridge. Very solemn. Troi notably not present.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Data: There has been no response from Alpha Bellune 5.
|
|
Communications equipment indicates an error in transmission. Most
|
|
likely...
|
|
|
|
Picard: Most likely we are too late.
|
|
|
|
Data: That is only one of several possible conclusions.
|
|
|
|
Picard: It is the most likely conclusion.
|
|
|
|
Sopp: Bretai will not send an expeditiary force. Having taken
|
|
your measure, he will move with his entire fleet. He has had
|
|
time. The deed has been done.
|
|
|
|
Picard: Another world, dead.
|
|
|
|
Data: Other than the research station, Alpha Bellune's only life
|
|
forms were single-cell organisms.
|
|
|
|
Picard: A vast sea of single-cell organisms, theorized to be the
|
|
beginnings of a unified mind.
|
|
|
|
Data: That was Alder'k San's hypothesis. Unproven, at the
|
|
moment.
|
|
|
|
Picard: Unproven for all moments! Mr. Sopp!
|
|
|
|
Sopp: Yes, Captain?
|
|
|
|
Picard: Can these Zentradi - these madmen - be stopped? Can
|
|
they?
|
|
|
|
Sopp: They are not mad, Captain. They know only rational battle.
|
|
Bretai is cutting the spider's web, limiting it's options to a
|
|
single strand. The Zentradi can be stopped. They will stop. At
|
|
this world you know as 'Earth.' Either Poseidal will destroy
|
|
them, or they shall destroy him and then themselves, having
|
|
accomplished the sole objective of their being. Either way, they
|
|
will stop.
|
|
|
|
Data: What does Poseidal want with Earth?
|
|
|
|
Sopp: I am not Poseidal. I cannot say.
|
|
|
|
Picard: If the Zentradi do not destroy it, will he?
|
|
|
|
Sopp: No, Captain. That much, I know.
|
|
|
|
Worf: Captain, the Yamato is signaling. Commodore Hayes is ready
|
|
to begin the briefing.
|
|
|
|
Picard: Begin the conference session.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
The images of several Star Fleet officers appears onscreen. It is
|
|
not a 'true' image - but rather one constructed by placing the
|
|
captain's of each ship next to each other, Commodore Hayes at the
|
|
center.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Hayes: Greetings, Enterprise.
|
|
|
|
Picard: Greetings, Yamato.
|
|
|
|
Hayes: Would that the circumstances of our being brought together
|
|
were different...
|
|
|
|
Klingon Captain: Under different circumstances, such a conference
|
|
would not be necessary. I understand, Enterprise, there is an
|
|
alien on your bridge.
|
|
|
|
Picard: Correct, R'Shall.
|
|
|
|
Klingon Captain: Is it... wise?
|
|
|
|
Hayes: I have consented to his presence.
|
|
|
|
Picard: Mr. Sopp will brief us on the Zentradi capabilities.
|
|
|
|
Hayes: Before we begin, Enterprise, I trust our civilian cargo
|
|
has arrived safely?
|
|
|
|
Picard [jokingly]: We have given them quarters to which they may
|
|
be more accustomed than your Spartan offerings, Commodore. Safety
|
|
is another matter. Being aboard a ship about to fly into combat
|
|
with the unknown...
|
|
|
|
Sopp: Combat is always unknown. Even for those who have fought
|
|
through the millenia, each battle is unique.
|
|
|
|
Hayes: That was the alien?
|
|
|
|
Picard: Yes.
|
|
|
|
Hayes: Add him to the conference. Let us begin.
|
|
|
|
Klingon Captain: That is the alien? A little boy. Or... girl?
|
|
Terran in appearance. Your kind had a very promiscuous progenator,
|
|
traipsing from one star to the next, across even the galaxies.
|
|
But seriously, if our knowledge of the aliens is to come from a
|
|
child, perhaps we would be better off with the completely unknown,
|
|
than the distortions - unintentional as they may be - of youthful
|
|
exuberance.
|
|
|
|
Sopp: Perhaps not.
|
|
|
|
Hayes: Let him... him, yes?... Let him continue.
|
|
|
|
Sopp:
|
|
|
|
Thank you, Commodore.
|
|
|
|
Your fleet is badly outgunned. Should one of their primary weapon
|
|
bank's score a hit, the impacted ship will almost certainly be
|
|
destroyed. Your maneuverability should reduce the chances of this
|
|
happening considerably - perchance to sheer luck on the Zentradi
|
|
part - but one is occasionally lucky, and the Zentradi are superb
|
|
at adapting: should a predictable pattern emerge in a vessel's
|
|
maneuvering, the Zentradi gunners will detect it.
|
|
|
|
Defensively, the Zentradi screens are weaker than yours. Your
|
|
beam weapons should penetrate fairly well. However, the armor on
|
|
these capital ships is ponderous in the extreme. Cutting attacks
|
|
will be useless. Even your explosive devices - impressive as I
|
|
find them to be - will little more than blacken the surface.
|
|
However, but cutting precise holes in the armor, accurate
|
|
placement of photon torpedoes could be devastating. This will be
|
|
facilitated by the relative immobility of the battleships.
|
|
However, lining up such an accurate shot will necessarily
|
|
jeaprodize the attacking vessel. Almost certainly, the Zentradi
|
|
guns will destroy such an attacking craft.
|
|
|
|
If you have warriors willing to die such that the whole might
|
|
win...
|
|
|
|
Finally, and most importantly, you have the advantage in
|
|
manueverability only so long as the Zentradi are not able to
|
|
launch significant numbers of the BattleOids. Should that happen,
|
|
you will be flooded with small craft - of considerable firepower
|
|
despite their size - and with a maneuverability you cannot even
|
|
conceive of. Should a Headliner be present in this fleet - and I
|
|
believe there is at least one...
|
|
|
|
It must not happen. You will be doomed. The hangar bays on the
|
|
carrier must be your first priority. Destroy the BattleOids
|
|
before they are launched at all costs.
|
|
|
|
All costs...
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Ten Forward. Deserted.
|
|
|
|
Except for Lynn and Kyle. Kyle stands, hands clasped behind his
|
|
back, looking forward into space. Deep in thought. Lynn rests in
|
|
a chair/couch, also deep in thought. Guinan polishes a glass,
|
|
behind the bar, watching the two young stars.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Lynn: It's kind of romantic, don't you think, going off to war?
|
|
|
|
Kyle: Yes.
|
|
|
|
Lynn: I'm not as frightened as I thought I might be. Oh, I'm
|
|
scared of death - that much is true. But I don't feel like I'm
|
|
going to die. And even if I should, I can't say what it is about
|
|
dying that frightens me. It's a strange fear.
|
|
|
|
Kyle: A strange fear.
|
|
|
|
Lynn: Are you afraid?
|
|
|
|
Kyle: No.
|
|
|
|
Lynn: You never were. That's to bad.
|
|
|
|
Kyle: It is difficult, sometimes, to always be in control. I was
|
|
determined, very early in life, to stay in control - if not of the
|
|
events around me, then at least of myself.
|
|
|
|
Lynn: And because of that, I was always determined not to be in
|
|
control.
|
|
|
|
Guinan [who has approached]: Yin and yang.
|
|
|
|
Lynn [smiling]: Yes. Are you afraid, strange lady?
|
|
|
|
Guinan: I'm afraid, like your afraid. Afraid of death - but not
|
|
knowing why. Sometimes, I think - how pointless to die. But
|
|
othertimes, just as often if not more, in fact, I think - how
|
|
pointless to live.
|
|
|
|
Kyle: But we must live. And we must die.
|
|
|
|
Guinan: Yin and yang.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Enterprise bridge. Yellow alert. Tense.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Picard: Where is Sopp!
|
|
|
|
Worf: He is not in his quarters. No reports of him. Anywhere.
|
|
|
|
Picard: Damn it! Find him!
|
|
|
|
Riker: You think he may be tricking us?
|
|
|
|
Picard: I don't know what to think...
|
|
|
|
Worf: Captain, transporter room coming on line. Co-ordinates...
|
|
deep space!
|
|
|
|
Riker: Sopp?
|
|
|
|
Data: He could not survive in deep space, Commander Riker...
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Transporter room. Sopp on the platform
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Sopp: I'm sorry, Captain Picard, to leave you before you're
|
|
battle. But the fight is yours. Not mine. But we shall meet
|
|
again, and I shall stand by your side.
|
|
|
|
Picard [remotely]: Mr. Sopp!
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
The platform begins to glow.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Sopp [soft whisper]: Knight of Gold... I need you.
|
|
Five Star Trek - Part 13
|
|
|
|
Last lines - Part 12:
|
|
|
|
|
|
Sopp: I'm sorry, Captain Picard, to leave you before you're
|
|
battle. But the fight is yours. Not mine. But we shall meet
|
|
again, and I shall stand by your side.
|
|
|
|
Picard [remotely]: Mr. Sopp!
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
The platform begins to glow.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Sopp [soft whisper]: Knight of Gold... I need you.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Part 13:
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Enterprise bridge. All eyes, fixed on the main screen, which shows
|
|
Sopp's arrival in deep space. As he materializes, a cocoon of yellow-
|
|
white light forms about him. Wispy and ethereal. Sopp slowly
|
|
transforms. His hair becomes long and vaguely lavender. He becomes
|
|
taller. Thiner. Even more delicate.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Picard: Poseidal!
|
|
|
|
Riker: He tricked us...
|
|
|
|
Data: Sir, sensors reporting massive sub-space disturbances, highly
|
|
localized. Another 'transference'?
|
|
|
|
Picard: The Grand Adas?
|
|
|
|
Data: No, Captain. Much smaller. The energy fluctuations should not
|
|
pose a threat to the Enterprise.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
A brilliant explosion of light, silhouetting Poseidal. The Enterprise
|
|
rocks in the concussion. The light dims. Poseidal appears completely
|
|
unharmed. Behind him, the Knight of Gold: a tower of armor, much like
|
|
Rogner's Mortarr Head, seemingly made from gold.
|
|
|
|
The Mortarr Head extends a hand, grabbing Poseidal. It pulls him to
|
|
it's chest, where an opening appears. Poseidal enters.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Picard: Get him!
|
|
|
|
Data: Not possible, Captain. The 'Mortarr Head' is generating an
|
|
interference pattern...
|
|
|
|
Worf: Shall I engage tractor beams, Captain?
|
|
|
|
Picard: Make it so.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Inside the Knight of Gold, Poseidal positions himself in the web of
|
|
cables. From above, Atrophos speaks.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Atrophos: It makes me very happy to see you again, my Lord. Your
|
|
absence has been a drain.
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: That's very sweet, Atrophos. I don't think we shall again
|
|
be parted. Not soon.
|
|
|
|
Atrophos: I hope not, my Lord. Ah! How ironic... The butterfly tries
|
|
to snare us in a net.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Enterprise bridge.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Worf: Captain, we are having no effect.
|
|
|
|
Riker: Increase power?
|
|
|
|
Picard: Yes.
|
|
|
|
Worf: Increasing... Captain, we are being hailed.
|
|
|
|
Picard: Onscreen.
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: I am sorry, Captain. I cannot stay with you. This your
|
|
fight.
|
|
|
|
Picard: A fight you've set up, perhaps?
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: In a very indirect way, you could say that. But it was not
|
|
my choice, the target Bretai chose. We may meet again, Captain.
|
|
|
|
Picard: Earth?
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: The third world...? Yes. We may meet in the skies above the
|
|
third world.
|
|
|
|
Picard: And what can we expect when we return?
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: If you return, Captain.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
The image goes blank. Onscreen, pale flames engulf the Knight of
|
|
Gold.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Picard: Maximum power to tractor beams!
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
The Knight of Gold vanishes.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Worf: We've lost him, Captain. The Yamato is hailing us.
|
|
|
|
Riker: The Commodore probably wants to know what just happened.
|
|
|
|
Picard: So do I, Number One. And I want to know what's going to
|
|
happen.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Bridge of the Grand Adas. Poseidal enters. Though dwarved by the
|
|
cavernous chamber, his presence nevertheless fills it. Atrophos
|
|
walks closely behind, to his right. Both wear ornate, almost
|
|
ceremonial robes.
|
|
|
|
Aisha, looking almost identical to Poseidal, rises from the
|
|
command chair.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Aisha: Hail, Great Poseidal! You should take more frequent
|
|
leaves of absence. Things have been ever so much more fun.
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: So I am told.
|
|
|
|
Aisha: These... Romulans? These Romulans, they have been an
|
|
engaging opponent. Engaging one moment, not so engaging the
|
|
next. There hiding capabilities exceed those of the earlier
|
|
ships...
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: The Klingons.
|
|
|
|
Aisha: With a name like that, it is a small wonder...
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: Of all the races here, dear Aisha, I think perhaps
|
|
the Klingons would be most to your liking.
|
|
|
|
Aisha: More so than the Romulans. Threats, threats, threats.
|
|
They are very good at making threats. They have proven less
|
|
capable of carrying them out - though their weapons have badly
|
|
singed our hull, I dare say...
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: Well, no longer. We're leaving.
|
|
|
|
Aisha: A transference?
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: Yes. To the third world. The game is up. Bretai
|
|
has destroyed two worlds. His bio-relation reserves are too low,
|
|
now, to make the last transference. And we are much nearer our
|
|
destination. The expediture will not harm our strategic position.
|
|
|
|
Aisha: You've played the Zentradi very well, Lord Poseidal.
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: No. Bretai did what he had to do. Made the choices he
|
|
had to make. I did nothing. But that shall all change. Soon...
|
|
Above Earth.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Picard's ready room.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Picard: Captain's log, supplemental. Soon, the Enterprise shall
|
|
be locked in a fight to the death. Our enemy: an alien race
|
|
capable of destroying entire worlds - entire civilizations. More
|
|
than their military capacity, it is the pathological state of
|
|
being they must possess which frightens me so. What manner of
|
|
military could lay waste to a world of no military signifance.
|
|
No. Lay waste does not fully encompass what has befallen.
|
|
Betazed is no more. And as for the motivations of it's
|
|
destructors, we have only the words of an enigmatic general,
|
|
himself an alien, himself possessing an agenda, himself
|
|
possibly at odds with the interests of the Federation. Himself
|
|
heading to Earth.
|
|
|
|
Worf [remotely]: Captain, we have reached the staging area.
|
|
|
|
Picard: On my way.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Picard stands and exits. We see him enter the bridge. It has
|
|
been gripped by a cold, military efficiency. All officers snap
|
|
to attention upon his entry.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Picard: All stations report.
|
|
|
|
Riker: All reporting, ready and able.
|
|
|
|
Picard: Fleet status?
|
|
|
|
Data: All first wave ships, in position and waiting on command
|
|
from the Commodore. The Yamato has given full stop orders.
|
|
|
|
Picard: Full stop. Picard to all sections: full battle alert.
|
|
Repeat. Full battle alert. This is not a drill. All personnel
|
|
report immediately to assigned battle stations. Systems report.
|
|
|
|
Worf: Engineering fully on-line, warp engines operating at
|
|
peak efficiency, all shields at full capacity. Torpedo tubes
|
|
fully loaded, all phasers ready and waiting. Captain...
|
|
|
|
Picard: Yes, Lieutenant Worf?
|
|
|
|
Worf: We are ready.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Bridge of the Yamato. Commodore Hayes stands before multiple
|
|
displays.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Hayes: Yamato to fleet. Report.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
A quick succession of images pass before her - the captains of
|
|
each ship. All reporting. The last to report is Picard.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Hayes: The alien has not returned?
|
|
|
|
Picard: No, Commodore. And there is no reason to believe he
|
|
shall. It is our fight.
|
|
|
|
Hayes: It always was. Yamato to fleet: tactics have been
|
|
explained. Follow us in.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
The screens blank. Hayes turns slowly to Wesley, seated at the
|
|
navigation console.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Hayes: Warp nine.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
From space: the Yamato streaks away, an explosion of color and
|
|
light. Immediately, the assembled ships follow her. Several
|
|
Klingon craft, several Federation cruisers. The Enterprise is
|
|
the last to leave.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
The cabin of Lynn and Kyle Ming.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Lynn: Well, it's begun. And here we are. Not much to do now but wait.
|
|
|
|
Kyle: Wait in this tiny cubical. Blind to events beyond these dull
|
|
walls. Waiting to die. Or not to die.
|
|
|
|
Lynn: It is kind of depressing...
|
|
|
|
Kyle: Kind of. Depressing and infuriating. Stuck. Immobile and
|
|
helpless, our lives hanging by the competence of a pack of Star Brats.
|
|
|
|
Lynn: There you go again.
|
|
|
|
Kyle: It's true.
|
|
|
|
Lynn: Well, we don't have to wait here.
|
|
|
|
Kyle: Oh, no?
|
|
|
|
Lynn: No.
|
|
|
|
Kyle: The doors are sealed. Automatically...
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Lynn gets up and saunters over to the door. Starts fiddling with a
|
|
panel.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Lynn: I can open it.
|
|
|
|
Kyle: Yeah. Right...
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
It opens.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Lynn: Come on!
|
|
|
|
Kyle: Come on, where? Here you go again.
|
|
|
|
Lynn: What's the matter? All talk?
|
|
|
|
Kyle: These childish games have got to stop...
|
|
|
|
Lynn: Maybe they will, but I'm going to watch it happen.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
She leaves. After a moment, Kyle races after her. The corridor is
|
|
deserted. A red alert sounds. Lynn stops beside a turbo-lift.
|
|
Kyle catches up to her.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Lynn: All the officers have moved to the Battle Bridge. Deeper in
|
|
the ship. The main bridge will be deserted.
|
|
|
|
Kyle: And?
|
|
|
|
Lynn: And we can watch from there.
|
|
|
|
Kyle: How do we get there?
|
|
|
|
Lynn: We climb.
|
|
|
|
Kyle: Climb?
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Lynn starts fiddling with a panel. The turbo-shaft doors open,
|
|
revealing an empty shaft. Kyle looks up.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Lynn: Climb.
|
|
|
|
Kyle: How do you know all this stuff?
|
|
|
|
Lynn: If you're nice to them, Star Brats can be nice to you.
|
|
|
|
Kyle: Oh, and I'm sure you've been very nice.
|
|
|
|
Lynn: Very nice. Now start climbing.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Bridge of Azonia's command ship. The Zentradi woman paces along a
|
|
catwalk. A holo-image springs to life near her.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Zentradi: Commander! Twenty alien craft approaching at very high
|
|
speed.
|
|
|
|
Azonia: Specifics.
|
|
|
|
Zentradi: Their angle of approach is head-on into our tracking arrays.
|
|
It is difficult to fix on them. I cannot be more specific at this
|
|
time.
|
|
|
|
Azonia: Relay tracking through the other vessels immediately.
|
|
|
|
Zentradi: Yes, Commander.
|
|
|
|
Azonia [to herself]: Odd that the aliens would be able
|
|
to execute such a tactic...
|
|
|
|
Zentradi: Twenty craft, similar in design and construction to those
|
|
encountered earlier. Generally, larger. More powerful propulsion
|
|
systems. Much stronger shielding, though shields have been concentrated
|
|
at fore of each vessel...
|
|
|
|
Azonia: Logical. Range?
|
|
|
|
Zentradi: They will be within range of our main guns in moments.
|
|
|
|
Azonia: Target all weaponry on the aliens. They haven't learned?
|
|
That seems odd...
|
|
|
|
Zentradi: Guns moving into position. Aliens holding course.
|
|
|
|
Azonia: Fire immediately when targets in range.
|
|
|
|
Zentradi: Holding. Holding. Holding. Targets closing. Main guns
|
|
fully charged. Holding. Initiating firing sequence...
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
The bridge lights with a brilliant flare as the main guns fire.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Zentradi: Commander! The aliens broke formation immediately after
|
|
entering range! They couldn't possibly react so quickly! It's
|
|
impossible!
|
|
|
|
Azonia: Impossible. Unless... Unless they knew our range. Knew
|
|
precisely. Which is impossible. Unless... Unless Poseidal has
|
|
been interfering! Full battle alert. All ships! Full alert!
|
|
Finally! A real fight. Finally!
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Enterprise battle bridge. Onscreen, the Zentradi ships. Nearer and
|
|
nearer.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Data: Seconds to threshold: five, four, three, two, breaking
|
|
formation...
|
|
|
|
|
|
Onscreen, brilliant shafts of energy lance out from the Zentradi. The
|
|
crew strains against the ships rapid bank. The shafts miss.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Picard: Right on schedule! Report!
|
|
|
|
Worf: All ships, surviving, Captain.
|
|
|
|
Riker: A hit by one of those guns and our shields would just make the
|
|
pain last a little longer...
|
|
|
|
Worf: Outer decks, starboard side, reporting radiation damage. No
|
|
causualty figures yet...
|
|
|
|
Riker: Secondary weapon? Something Poseidal forgot to mention?
|
|
|
|
Data: More likely, simply an after-effect of the initial discharge.
|
|
The beams passed us to the starboard side. Smaller craft may be
|
|
more severely impacted...
|
|
|
|
Picard: Ours is to consider only our own role. End discussion.
|
|
Move on assigned target.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Space.
|
|
|
|
The Enterprise -
|
|
|
|
Banks. Lines up on one of the outer cruisers. Accelerates. Secondary
|
|
fire from the cruiser system-matically criss-crossing the void. Shields
|
|
flare. Shots graze her hull.
|
|
|
|
Phaser fire leaps from under the saucer.
|
|
|
|
Banking. Passing the cruiser. Near in. Different banks take up the
|
|
barrage as the forward ones move out of position. Scarring the powerful
|
|
armor of the Zentradi hull.
|
|
|
|
Rapid turn. Moving away. All shields, rear.
|
|
|
|
Photon torpedos. Firing. Towards scar. Impact on surface. Flying
|
|
metal. The cruiser's fire continues. Unabatted. A warp nacelle
|
|
is damaged. Jets of ionized gas spew into space.
|
|
|
|
The Enterprise banks again. A second run.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Azonia's Carrier -
|
|
|
|
Five Klingon Bird's of Prey dive on the giant ship. Streaking for the
|
|
vast hangar doors. The carrier has more guns - bigger guns - than the
|
|
cruisers. They concentrate on one of the Klingons. It's shields are
|
|
pulverized even as the five release a volley of photon torpedoes. The
|
|
explosions ripple across the armored bay.
|
|
|
|
The guns continue concentrating on the single ship. One of it's wings
|
|
is sheered off. As the other four ships flatten out their trajectory
|
|
and skim above the behemoth's hull, the damaged vessel continues
|
|
forward, slamming into the doors.
|
|
|
|
A titanic explosion, and the hangar is breached.
|
|
|
|
Remaining close in to the carrier, so as not to come under concentrated
|
|
fire, the surviving four skim over the ship, circling back to make
|
|
another pass at the hangar.
|
|
|
|
Inside the hangar bay, an army of battle-suited Zentradi make ready for
|
|
the leap into space. The explosion knocks many to their feet. Many
|
|
are destroyed. The others regroup.
|
|
|
|
Above the main floor, a Mortarr Head surveys the scene. More ornate
|
|
than the battle-suits and slightly larger, it commands a position
|
|
of respect. Inside, the Headliner Miria Piria - human in size - broods
|
|
over the Federation tactics.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Miria: Hermes, the aliens will continue attacking the hangar doors.
|
|
They do not want the BattleSuits to launch. We must look for another
|
|
exit.
|
|
|
|
Hermes [her male Fatima, in the head]: There are none, Mistriss Piria.
|
|
|
|
Miria: Then we shall make one.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
The Mortar Head turns towards an interior wall, opening fire with it's
|
|
great gun. Several of the Zentradi look up in shock, as Miria pulls
|
|
the ruined wall apart and steps through. She continues to cut a path
|
|
of destruction, even as the Klingon ships come around again.
|
|
|
|
Needing a steeper angle of attack, the Bird's of Prey rocket away from
|
|
the carrier, near the hangar doors, covering themselves with rear
|
|
photon torpedos. The torpedos explode on the carrier's hull, missing
|
|
the hangar, but the explosions keep the Zentradi BattleSuits from
|
|
launching into space.
|
|
|
|
A barrage of fire follows the Klingons into space. The Klingons turn.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Enterprise bridge (main). Kyle and Lynn watch as the Enterprise banks
|
|
again. The target cruiser comes into view.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Lynn: Here we go again. Look at all the weapons. You know, it's kind
|
|
of pretty, that ship.
|
|
|
|
Kyle: You mean, with all the lights?
|
|
|
|
Lynn: Yeah. There even prettier, thinking how deadly they are. I
|
|
wonder, will our shields continue to hold?
|
|
|
|
Kyle: We'll know soon enough.
|
|
|
|
Lynn: So fast. It all happens so fast. Those beams, those are ours...
|
|
|
|
Kyle: They're very clever, these Star Brats. Cutting a hole in the
|
|
tank, and tossing a grendade in...
|
|
|
|
Lynn: So much death. Will we win? Does it matter? I guess it does.
|
|
But who can say, who has more right to live?
|
|
|
|
Kyle: They attacked first, as I understand it.
|
|
|
|
Lynn: Yes, I guess that matters...
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Azonia's command center.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Azonia: Contact the Gur'paal.
|
|
|
|
Zentradi: Gur'paal responding, Commander.
|
|
|
|
Azonia: Gur'paal, target you're main guns on this location...
|
|
|
|
Gur'paal Commander: But Lady Azonia! That's your hangar!
|
|
|
|
Azonia: Do not question me again!
|
|
|
|
Commander: Yes, Commander! At once! Forgive me, Commander!
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
The image disappears.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Outside, the Klingon's swirl about, switching full power to their
|
|
forward shields. They dive, screaming for their target. The
|
|
forward torpedo tubes glow a menacing red.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Azonia: Fire!
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
One of the cruisers delivers a broadside with it's main guns, all
|
|
aimed at the blasted hangar door. The Klingon's, no shielding
|
|
to their rear, disintigrate almost immediately. The beams carry
|
|
through into the hangar, blasting a huge section of armor from the far
|
|
side of the carrier.
|
|
|
|
Azonia's command chamber.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Zentradi: Eighty-five percent of all troops in main hangar, dead.
|
|
Ten percent, fully inoperational. Remaining, varying degrees of
|
|
operation. One percent, fully operational.
|
|
|
|
Miria [appears on holo before Azonia]: Brilliant stroke, Azonia.
|
|
|
|
Azonia: Thank you, Lady Piria.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Five Star Trek - Part 14
|
|
|
|
Last lines - Part 13:
|
|
|
|
|
|
Picard: No, Commodore. And there is no reason to believe he
|
|
shall. It is our fight.
|
|
|
|
Hayes: It always was. Yamato to fleet: tactics have been
|
|
explained. Follow us in.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
The screens blank. Hayes turns slowly to Wesley, seated at the
|
|
navigation console.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Hayes: Warp nine.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
From space: the Yamato streaks away, an explosion of color and
|
|
light. Immediately, the assembled ships follow her. Several
|
|
Klingon craft, several Federation cruisers. The Enterprise is
|
|
the last to leave.
|
|
|
|
|
|
Part 14:
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
The cabin of Lynn and Kyle Ming.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Lynn: Well, it's begun. And here we are. Not much to do now but wait.
|
|
|
|
Kyle: Wait in this tiny cubical. Blind to events beyond these dull
|
|
walls. Waiting to die. Or not to die.
|
|
|
|
Lynn: It is kind of depressing...
|
|
|
|
Kyle: Kind of. Depressing and infuriating. Stuck. Immobile and
|
|
helpless, our lives hanging by the competence of a pack of Star Brats.
|
|
|
|
Lynn: There you go again.
|
|
|
|
Kyle: It's true.
|
|
|
|
Lynn: Well, we don't have to wait here.
|
|
|
|
Kyle: Oh, no?
|
|
|
|
Lynn: No.
|
|
|
|
Kyle: The doors are sealed. Automatically...
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Lynn gets up and saunters over to the door. Starts fiddling with a
|
|
panel.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Lynn: I can open it.
|
|
|
|
Kyle: Yeah. Right...
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
It opens.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Lynn: Come on!
|
|
|
|
Kyle: Come on, where? Here you go again.
|
|
|
|
Lynn: What's the matter? All talk?
|
|
|
|
Kyle: These childish games have got to stop...
|
|
|
|
Lynn: Maybe they will, but I'm going to watch it happen.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
She leaves. After a moment, Kyle races after her. The corridor is
|
|
deserted. A red alert sounds. Lynn stops beside a turbo-lift.
|
|
Kyle catches up to her.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Lynn: All the officers have moved to the Battle Bridge. Deeper in
|
|
the ship. The main bridge will be deserted.
|
|
|
|
Kyle: And?
|
|
|
|
Lynn: And we can watch from there.
|
|
|
|
Kyle: How do we get there?
|
|
|
|
Lynn: We climb.
|
|
|
|
Kyle: Climb?
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Lynn starts fiddling with a panel. The turbo-shaft doors open,
|
|
revealing an empty shaft. Kyle looks up.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Lynn: Climb.
|
|
|
|
Kyle: How do you know all this stuff?
|
|
|
|
Lynn: If you're nice to them, Star Brats can be nice to you.
|
|
|
|
Kyle: Oh, and I'm sure you've been very nice.
|
|
|
|
Lynn: Very nice. Now start climbing.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Bridge of Azonia's command ship. The Zentradi woman paces along a
|
|
catwalk. A holo-image springs to life near her.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Zentradi: Commander! Twenty alien craft approaching at very high
|
|
speed.
|
|
|
|
Azonia: Specifics.
|
|
|
|
Zentradi: Their angle of approach is head-on into our tracking arrays.
|
|
It is difficult to fix on them. I cannot be more specific at this
|
|
time.
|
|
|
|
Azonia: Relay tracking through the other vessels immediately.
|
|
|
|
Zentradi: Yes, Commander.
|
|
|
|
Azonia [to herself]: Odd that the aliens would be able
|
|
to execute such a tactic...
|
|
|
|
Zentradi: Twenty craft, similar in design and construction to those
|
|
encountered earlier. Generally, larger. More powerful propulsion
|
|
systems. Much stronger shielding, though shields have been concentrated
|
|
at fore of each vessel...
|
|
|
|
Azonia: Logical. Range?
|
|
|
|
Zentradi: They will be within range of our main guns in moments.
|
|
|
|
Azonia: Target all weaponry on the aliens. They haven't learned?
|
|
That seems odd...
|
|
|
|
Zentradi: Guns moving into position. Aliens holding course.
|
|
|
|
Azonia: Fire immediately when targets in range.
|
|
|
|
Zentradi: Holding. Holding. Holding. Targets closing. Main guns
|
|
fully charged. Holding. Initiating firing sequence...
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
The bridge lights with a brilliant flare as the main guns fire.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Zentradi: Commander! The aliens broke formation immediately after
|
|
entering range! They couldn't possibly react so quickly! It's
|
|
impossible!
|
|
|
|
Azonia: Impossible. Unless... Unless they knew our range. Knew
|
|
precisely. Which is impossible. Unless... Unless Poseidal has
|
|
been interfering! Full battle alert. All ships! Full alert!
|
|
Finally! A real fight. Finally!
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Enterprise battle bridge. Onscreen, the Zentradi ships. Nearer and
|
|
nearer.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Data: Seconds to threshold: five, four, three, two, breaking
|
|
formation...
|
|
|
|
|
|
Onscreen, brilliant shafts of energy lance out from the Zentradi. The
|
|
crew strains against the ships rapid bank. The shafts miss.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Picard: Right on schedule! Report!
|
|
|
|
Worf: All ships, surviving, Captain.
|
|
|
|
Riker: A hit by one of those guns and our shields would just make the
|
|
pain last a little longer...
|
|
|
|
Worf: Outer decks, starboard side, reporting radiation damage. No
|
|
causualty figures yet...
|
|
|
|
Riker: Secondary weapon? Something Poseidal forgot to mention?
|
|
|
|
Data: More likely, simply an after-effect of the initial discharge.
|
|
The beams passed us to the starboard side. Smaller craft may be
|
|
more severely impacted...
|
|
|
|
Picard: Ours is to consider only our own role. End discussion.
|
|
Move on assigned target.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Space.
|
|
|
|
The Enterprise -
|
|
|
|
Banks. Lines up on one of the outer cruisers. Accelerates. Secondary
|
|
fire from the cruiser system-matically criss-crossing the void. Shields
|
|
flare. Shots graze her hull.
|
|
|
|
Phaser fire leaps from under the saucer.
|
|
|
|
Banking. Passing the cruiser. Near in. Different banks take up the
|
|
barrage as the forward ones move out of position. Scarring the powerful
|
|
armor of the Zentradi hull.
|
|
|
|
Rapid turn. Moving away. All shields, rear.
|
|
|
|
Photon torpedos. Firing. Towards scar. Impact on surface. Flying
|
|
metal. The cruiser's fire continues. Unabatted. A warp nacelle
|
|
is damaged. Jets of ionized gas spew into space.
|
|
|
|
The Enterprise banks again. A second run.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Azonia's Carrier -
|
|
|
|
Five Klingon Bird's of Prey dive on the giant ship. Streaking for the
|
|
vast hangar doors. The carrier has more guns - bigger guns - than the
|
|
cruisers. They concentrate on one of the Klingons. It's shields are
|
|
pulverized even as the five release a volley of photon torpedoes. The
|
|
explosions ripple across the armored bay.
|
|
|
|
The guns continue concentrating on the single ship. One of it's wings
|
|
is sheered off. As the other four ships flatten out their trajectory
|
|
and skim above the behemoth's hull, the damaged vessel continues
|
|
forward, slamming into the doors.
|
|
|
|
A titanic explosion, and the hangar is breached.
|
|
|
|
Remaining close in to the carrier, so as not to come under concentrated
|
|
fire, the surviving four skim over the ship, circling back to make
|
|
another pass at the hangar.
|
|
|
|
Inside the hangar bay, an army of battle-suited Zentradi make ready for
|
|
the leap into space. The explosion knocks many to their feet. Many
|
|
are destroyed. The others regroup.
|
|
|
|
Above the main floor, a Mortarr Head surveys the scene. More ornate
|
|
than the battle-suits and slightly larger, it commands a position
|
|
of respect. Inside, the Headliner Miria Piria - human in size - broods
|
|
over the Federation tactics.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Miria: Hermes, the aliens will continue attacking the hangar doors.
|
|
They do not want the BattleSuits to launch. We must look for another
|
|
exit.
|
|
|
|
Hermes [her male Fatima, in the head]: There are none, Mistriss Piria.
|
|
|
|
Miria: Then we shall make one.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
The Mortar Head turns towards an interior wall, opening fire with it's
|
|
great gun. Several of the Zentradi look up in shock, as Miria pulls
|
|
the ruined wall apart and steps through. She continues to cut a path
|
|
of destruction, even as the Klingon ships come around again.
|
|
|
|
Needing a steeper angle of attack, the Bird's of Prey rocket away from
|
|
the carrier, near the hangar doors, covering themselves with rear
|
|
photon torpedos. The torpedos explode on the carrier's hull, missing
|
|
the hangar, but the explosions keep the Zentradi BattleSuits from
|
|
launching into space.
|
|
|
|
A barrage of fire follows the Klingons into space. The Klingons turn.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Enterprise bridge (main). Kyle and Lynn watch as the Enterprise banks
|
|
again. The target cruiser comes into view.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Lynn: Here we go again. Look at all the weapons. You know, it's kind
|
|
of pretty, that ship.
|
|
|
|
Kyle: You mean, with all the lights?
|
|
|
|
Lynn: Yeah. There even prettier, thinking how deadly they are. I
|
|
wonder, will our shields continue to hold?
|
|
|
|
Kyle: We'll know soon enough.
|
|
|
|
Lynn: So fast. It all happens so fast. Those beams, those are ours...
|
|
|
|
Kyle: They're very clever, these Star Brats. Cutting a hole in the
|
|
tank, and tossing a grendade in...
|
|
|
|
Lynn: So much death. Will we win? Does it matter? I guess it does.
|
|
But who can say, who has more right to live?
|
|
|
|
Kyle: They attacked first, as I understand it.
|
|
|
|
Lynn: Yes, I guess that matters...
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Azonia's command center.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Azonia: Contact the Gur'paal.
|
|
|
|
Zentradi: Gur'paal responding, Commander.
|
|
|
|
Azonia: Gur'paal, target you're main guns on this location...
|
|
|
|
Gur'paal Commander: But Lady Azonia! That's your hangar!
|
|
|
|
Azonia: Do not question me again!
|
|
|
|
Commander: Yes, Commander! At once! Forgive me, Commander!
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
The image disappears.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Outside, the Klingon's swirl about, switching full power to their
|
|
forward shields. They dive, screaming for their target. The
|
|
forward torpedo tubes glow a menacing red.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Azonia: Fire!
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
One of the cruisers delivers a broadside with it's main guns, all
|
|
aimed at the blasted hangar door. The Klingon's, no shielding
|
|
to their rear, disintigrate almost immediately. The beams carry
|
|
through into the hangar, blasting a huge section of armor from the far
|
|
side of the carrier.
|
|
|
|
Azonia's command chamber.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Zentradi: Eighty-five percent of all troops in main hangar, dead.
|
|
Ten percent, fully inoperational. Remaining, varying degrees of
|
|
operation. One percent, fully operational.
|
|
|
|
Miria [appears on holo before Azonia]: Brilliant stroke, Azonia.
|
|
|
|
Azonia: Thank you, Lady Piria.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Five Star Trek - Part 15
|
|
|
|
Last lines - Part 14:
|
|
|
|
|
|
One of the cruisers delivers a broadside with it's main guns, all
|
|
aimed at the blasted hangar door. The Klingon's, no shielding
|
|
to their rear, disintigrate almost immediately. The beams carry
|
|
through into the hangar, blasting a huge section of armor from the
|
|
side of the carrier.
|
|
|
|
Azonia's command chamber.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Zentradi: Eighty-five percent of all troops in main hangar, dead.
|
|
Ten percent, fully inoperational. Remaining, varying degrees of
|
|
operation. One percent, fully operational.
|
|
|
|
Miria [appears on holo before Azonia]: Brilliant stroke, Azonia.
|
|
|
|
Azonia: Thank you, Lady Piria.
|
|
|
|
|
|
Part 15:
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Enterprise Battle Bridge. The giant Zentradi cruiser looms ever larger
|
|
on the main screen. It is seen as if through a fog, as the constant
|
|
impact of secondary weapon beams on the Enterprises shields creates a
|
|
haze of bluish fire.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Worf: Fore torpedos firing, Captain...
|
|
|
|
Riker: Seems like we've been pounding them for hours...
|
|
|
|
Worf: Torpedos impacting. On target, Captain.
|
|
|
|
Data: Seven minutes, thirty-four seconds, Commander Riker. This is our
|
|
third run...
|
|
|
|
Riker: I know that, Data. I can count.
|
|
|
|
Data: Of course, Commander...
|
|
|
|
Picard: Data, how much damage have we done?
|
|
|
|
Data: Modeling the cruiser based on the materials estimates provided by
|
|
Poseidal...
|
|
|
|
Riker: Which may or may not be accurate.
|
|
|
|
Data: Superficial scans of debris support Poseidal's information. I
|
|
shall assume they are accurate, otherwise estimation is not possible.
|
|
My projection is that the cruiser has been reduced to seventy-five
|
|
percent energy capacity and has sustained incapacitating casualties to
|
|
fifty-three percent of her crew. The third torpedo should have
|
|
penetrated to roughly the center of the vessel. Two more runs, and
|
|
we may succeed in cutting her in half.
|
|
|
|
Riker: If we survive two more runs. Our own figures are not
|
|
encouraging, Captain. We can't sustain this barrage much longer. Even
|
|
if she's at seventy-five percent power, there have been no indications
|
|
of a let up in firing rate or strength...
|
|
|
|
Worf: Aft torpedos firing, Captain.
|
|
|
|
Data: Our attack has concentrated on inflicting the most severe damage
|
|
in the shortest amount of time. Given all weapon systems are self-
|
|
powered, to reduce the cruisers firing capacity would require attacking
|
|
those systems directly.
|
|
|
|
Picard: And that we definitely would not survive...
|
|
|
|
Data: It will be close, Captain, but I believe we will be capable of
|
|
delivering the last two shots...
|
|
|
|
Picard: Believe isn't good enough. We've got to do it.
|
|
|
|
Worf: Port nacelle has sustained two direct hits. Anti-matter
|
|
containment fields are jeaprodized. Engineering reports increased
|
|
casualties... Radiation contamination, Captain.
|
|
|
|
Riker: We'll have to shut the nacelle down.
|
|
|
|
Picard: Make it so.
|
|
|
|
Data: We will be reduced to thirty-eight percent...
|
|
|
|
Picard: Noted. Cease all phaser fire. We're not accomplishing
|
|
anything with it anymore, anyway. Power down phaser banks and
|
|
divert all available power to shields. We'll take two more
|
|
torpedo shots, and that's it.
|
|
|
|
Riker: Let's hope that's enough.
|
|
|
|
Picard: It doesn't matter what we hope, Number One. It has to
|
|
be enough.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Azonia's bridge. Another Zentradi woman walks beside her along
|
|
the catwalk. Images of the battle flicker on and off around them.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Azonia: The aliens are beginning to falter. Their speed is impressive,
|
|
Cordella, and remarkably sustainable. Their inability to sustain
|
|
punishment - that is their weakness. Have the remaining BattleSuits
|
|
regrouped?
|
|
|
|
Cordella: Yes, Commander. Twenty-five in the main hangar. Seven with
|
|
Lady Piria.
|
|
|
|
Azonia: Excellent.
|
|
|
|
Cordella: The Rasheem has been destroyed.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
An image crystalizes before the pair. It shows one of the cruisers -
|
|
being attacked by the Yamato. The Yamato streaks in on it's final
|
|
approach, launching two photon torpedos in quick succession. The
|
|
globes of light disappear into the cruiser. The exposed metal
|
|
skeleton flashes crimson as the first torpedo detonates. The second
|
|
blasts through the far side of the ship. Several secondary explosions
|
|
ripple along the hull. The cruiser breaks in half.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Cordella: The Hwrack-Altrop...
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Another image, of another cruiser. This one beset by four Klingon
|
|
warships and two Federation destroyers. The destroyers have been
|
|
badly damaged, missing large sections of their saucers, one with a
|
|
nacelle completely severed. Even as we watch, a barrage of fire
|
|
from the cruiser pierces one of the destroyers - atomizing it. The
|
|
other, rotating slightly and obviously not in complete control of it's
|
|
movements, fires a flury of photon torpedos haphazardly at the Zentradi
|
|
vessel. The burst drains too much power from her shields, and that
|
|
ship, too, is destroyed.
|
|
|
|
The Klingon ships, themselves badly damaged, descend on the cruiser in
|
|
a tight 'V' - uneven, having already lost one of their commrades. The
|
|
cruiser concentrates fire on the point vessel, overcoming it. But even
|
|
as their leader disintegrates, the others continue their dive, not
|
|
breaking off. They slam into the gaping maw in the cruiser's side.
|
|
|
|
It suffers a fate similar to the first, being wracked by explosions even
|
|
as it breaks into halves.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Azonia: Brief me.
|
|
|
|
Cordella: The aliens have destroyed two vessels and severly cripple
|
|
both the Gur Paal and the Hwri. Their attacks upon this vessel have
|
|
been largely unsuccessful, save for the destruction of our primary
|
|
hangar. Of an initial twenty craft, the aliens have been reduce to
|
|
six: two large cruisers, one medium, and three of the diving ships.
|
|
...The Gur Paal has just been destroyed... The Hwri has initated
|
|
a self destruction sequence, calculated to destroy it's attackers.
|
|
If successful, two of the diving ships and the medium cruiser shall be
|
|
removed from battle.
|
|
|
|
Azonia: Excellent. We have them, Cordella. Three ships. They'll
|
|
be eaten alive by the BattleSuits - if Lady Piria doesn't finish
|
|
them herself [laughter]
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Enterprise bridge. Scattered fires. Smoke. Sweat. Fear.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Riker: Forth times a charm.
|
|
|
|
Picard: Put everything we've got left in the forward shields. We're
|
|
going through...
|
|
|
|
Data: Through what, Captain?
|
|
|
|
Picard [rising from his chair]: Through!
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
The cruiser looms large and ominous on the main screen. A sweltering
|
|
barrage of crimson and white light bears down on the Enterprise. The
|
|
shields scream. The ship rocks. More fires.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Worf: Shields failing, Captain...
|
|
|
|
Riker: Through the ship?!
|
|
|
|
Picard: Yes, God-damn it! If we even make it that far...
|
|
|
|
Worf: Torpedo firing...
|
|
|
|
Picard: Hold course.
|
|
|
|
Worf: Torpedo detonating. Secondary explosions...
|
|
|
|
Data: Sensors indicating structural integrity fully compromised. She's
|
|
beginning to break up...
|
|
|
|
Worf: Shields down, Captain.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Enterprise primary bridge. Considerably more damaged than the
|
|
battle bridge. Wreckage has been strewn everywhere. Smoke chokes
|
|
the air. Mutliple fires.
|
|
|
|
Lynn and Kyle huddle near a side console. They are bruised and
|
|
bloodied, but surprisingly calm.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Lynn: So this is what war is like... Actually like.
|
|
|
|
Kyle: They mean to cut the alien in half.
|
|
|
|
Lynn: You think so?
|
|
|
|
Kyle: We've made three passes. Each time, hitting the same spot.
|
|
|
|
Lynn: Then I imagine things are even worse on the alien vessel.
|
|
|
|
Kyle: Only in the middle. Here we go. Number four.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
The two watch as the Gur Paal grows to fill the screen. As the
|
|
torpedo fires, detonating deep within. As explosion spawns explosion
|
|
and the ship starts to break apart.
|
|
|
|
Kyle: We're not pulling up...
|
|
|
|
Lynn: You think..?
|
|
|
|
Kyle: Maybe.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
The pull each other tight, not watching the screen.
|
|
|
|
Space.
|
|
|
|
Internal explosions rip the Gur Paal apart as the Enterprise disappears
|
|
in the flames.
|
|
Five Star Trek - 16
|
|
|
|
Last lines - Part 15:
|
|
|
|
|
|
The two watch as the Gur Paal grows to fill the screen. As the
|
|
torpedo fires, detonating deep within. As explosion spawns explosion
|
|
and the ship starts to break apart.
|
|
|
|
Kyle: We're not pulling up...
|
|
|
|
Lynn: You think..?
|
|
|
|
Kyle: Maybe.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
The pull each other tight, not watching the screen.
|
|
|
|
Space.
|
|
|
|
Internal explosions rip the Gur Paal apart as the Enterprise
|
|
disappears in the flames.
|
|
|
|
Part 16:
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Earth. The far side of the Moon. A brilliant explosion, and the Grand
|
|
Adas has arrived. Slowly, confidently, she moves past the satelite's
|
|
arc, coming into view of the planet - far below.
|
|
|
|
Poseidal's command chamber.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Aisha: A fine world. As fine as any we could ask for. Do you think
|
|
the Federation suspects?
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: I am certain they suspect many things, but they cannot
|
|
suspect what is to come. It is beyond the scope of their experiences.
|
|
|
|
Rogner [noding towards a screen]: But they expect to be attacked...
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Two Federation cruisers glide towards the Grand Adas.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Aisha: They'll have to do better than that...
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: They expect a trick, but not to be attacked. At least, I
|
|
don't believe so. They will be asking for more explanations than I care
|
|
to give, however...
|
|
|
|
Aisha: Let them ask.
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: Always such a fearsome falcon. Bristling with predatory
|
|
anticipation.
|
|
|
|
Aisha: Perhaps. But these little rabbits bore me. It's our final
|
|
encounter that has me bristling with anticipation. I don't suppose the
|
|
Great Poseidal would care to see how I bristle?
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: Perhaps.
|
|
|
|
Aisha: Empty words.
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: Perhaps Rogner?
|
|
|
|
Aisha: Perhaps, yes?
|
|
|
|
Rogner: Perhaps no! I'll check on the Mortarr Heads...
|
|
|
|
Aisha: You do that. Listen... The rabbits want to talk.
|
|
|
|
Atrophos: You should not carry yourself with so much contempt for
|
|
others, Lady Aisha. It poisons the soul.
|
|
|
|
Aisha: Dear Atrophos, if I thought of them as something other than
|
|
rabbits, the deaths that are to come would crush my soul. For a
|
|
Headliner, there can be only Headliners and rabbits. Ascribing humanity
|
|
to humanity leads ultimately to madness and despair.
|
|
|
|
Atrophos: Perhaps...
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Aisha pulls herself up to her full, regal height. Her hair lashes about
|
|
her like fire, and the metalic silks of her gown shimmer in the pale,
|
|
eerie lights. She steps onto a teleport platform.
|
|
|
|
|
|
Aisha: To madness and despair, or to Great Poseidal...
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
She vanishes. Atrophos and Poseidal look at each other, knowingly.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Enterprise primary bridge. Lynn and Kyle release each other.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Lynn: Still alive...?
|
|
|
|
Kyle: Hmmm.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Lynn turns to what remains of the console near them. She runs her hands
|
|
over the controls for several moments, not speaking.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Lynn: Our shields are down...
|
|
|
|
Kyle: A brilliant move. This Captain Picard, he deserves a great deal
|
|
of credit, seeking an uncertain death to avoid a certain one.
|
|
|
|
Lynn: Strange praise, coming from you. Certain death? Uncertain
|
|
death?
|
|
|
|
Kyle: Had we attempted to pull away from our dive, we would have come
|
|
under fire. Caught without shields - destroyed. By plunging into the
|
|
maelstrom, he caught the gunners on the far side by surprise. Unable to
|
|
fire - until they could no longer do so.
|
|
|
|
Lynn: There remains one ship. The biggest. And we have been reduced to
|
|
three. From the fire, into the fire...
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Enterprise battle bridge.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Picard: Report!
|
|
|
|
Worf: Shields, gone. Warp engines, twenty-five percent functional.
|
|
Port nacelle, inoperative. Impulse capacity, one half. Life support -
|
|
critical, but improving. All decks, not reporting... Estimation is
|
|
three-hundred and fifty dead, four hundred injured, half to point of
|
|
incapacitation.
|
|
|
|
Riker: We're a mess, Captain.
|
|
|
|
Picard: Fleet status!
|
|
|
|
Data: Captain... Only two other ships have survived.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
The crew is silent for a moment.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Data: The Yamato, and Klingon heavy cruiser R'Shall. Both reporting
|
|
serious conditions, but none so bad as ourselves.
|
|
|
|
Riker: The Enterprise wasn't meant as a ship-of-line battle platform...
|
|
|
|
Picard: No, Number One. She was not...
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Several brilliant flashes jar Picard from his gloom.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Picard: Get us away from that ship's guns! Now!
|
|
|
|
Riker: Four down, one to go. Only this one... It's armor is too
|
|
strong. We can't plow through it, like the others. And it's weaponry.
|
|
We aren't as maneuverable as the light Birds of Prey that went in. We
|
|
could never get that close. Even the Yamato's stronger shields - I must
|
|
admit, Captain - I feel very helpless, right now.
|
|
|
|
Picard: So do I, Number One. And there are more of these aliens. Many
|
|
more. And their target... Their target is Earth.
|
|
|
|
Worf: Commodore Hayes is hailing us, Captain.
|
|
|
|
Picard: Onscreen!
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
The Commodore appears. Her long, brown hair has kept it's immaculate
|
|
shape. Her face betrays no hint of despair. Her eyes are hard. The
|
|
Yamato bridge has not suffered nearly so much as the Enterprise. It
|
|
appears largely untouched. Only the visible tension of it's crew,
|
|
behind their immovable commander, betrays battle.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Hayes: We knew you would make it, Enterprise.
|
|
|
|
Picard: We're alive, Yamato. That's all we can say. Commodore...
|
|
|
|
Hayes: Yes?
|
|
|
|
Picard: I have a plan.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
High Earth orbit. The Grand Adas glides effortlessly above the blue
|
|
jewel-like planet. With silent grace, great fans extend along her
|
|
sides, opening out into space like the fins of a gold-fish.
|
|
|
|
Poseidal's command chamber. Aisha walks towards him, moving along the
|
|
long, slender catwalk. Bellow, the bridge-crew - a small army in and
|
|
off itself - works furiously, emitting a constant drone.
|
|
|
|
Aisha speaks with calm authority, gone are the lilting, playful tones of
|
|
her voice earlier.
|
|
|
|
|
|
Aisha: Maximum harmonic orbit established, Great Poseidal. Estimating
|
|
forty-five minutes to bio-relation symbiosis.
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: Acknowledged. We shall not have the time to execute a
|
|
complete symbiosis. Bretai has pushed his fleet hard.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Aisha nods grimly.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Aisha: I have tuned the ez-laser turbines accordingly. They are
|
|
generating frequency designed to rapidly stimulate the planet's bio-
|
|
relation field. Our storage coils will begin seed firing in ten
|
|
minutes. We shall spin of thirty percent of our stored capacity...
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: Fifty.
|
|
|
|
Aisha: The planet might not absorb the shock.
|
|
|
|
Posedial: I have meditated long on this world. It will absorb the
|
|
strain. It's not Gustogol, but it is a fine planet, nonetheless.
|
|
|
|
Atrophos: Not going to full-symbiosis will place a terrible strain on
|
|
the planets bio-sphere in the wake of our departure. Gustogol will have
|
|
survived our departure - but it's bio-relation pool was fully mature.
|
|
Will this world survive? Have your meditations told you that?
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: It will be very painful. But the world will survive. Seed
|
|
the proto-pool with fifty percent of our capacity. I calculate a
|
|
positive return within one day.
|
|
|
|
Aisha: Our observations support such a conclusion - provided you are
|
|
correct, and the bio-sphere des not become overly excited and melt-down.
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: I am correct. You look worried, Atrophos.
|
|
|
|
Atrophos: I am worried, Great Poseidal. I see the need for what you
|
|
mean to do; yetI
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
A dull glow burns in Atrophos eyes. Unconciously, Aisha shrinks back -
|
|
almost imperceptibly.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Atrophos: Yet... I too am a creature of the bio-relation pool. One of
|
|
the Fates Fatima - like my sisters Lachesis and Clotho. I too
|
|
understand it's workings. I too see ghosts of the future and past as if
|
|
in the present. Painful, Great Poseidal. Very painful, indeed, shall
|
|
our departure be...
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Azonia's command center.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Cordella: Enemy vessels have retreated beyond our weapon ranges.
|
|
|
|
Azonia: So they think. Lady Piria? They belong to you...
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Enterprise battle bridge.
|
|
|
|
|
|
Worf: Captain, several small craft approaching. Very fast.
|
|
|
|
Riker: Several?
|
|
|
|
Worf: Sensors are badly damaged, Commander Riker. Perhaps twenty.
|
|
Perhaps thirty. I cannot be more specific...
|
|
|
|
Picard: Commander Data?
|
|
|
|
Data: The craft power-generation curves fall in line with the Zentradi
|
|
BattleSuits Poseidal briefed us on. All save one, which closely
|
|
resembles the Mortarr Headd configuration.
|
|
|
|
Picard: Can we out-run them?
|
|
|
|
Data: We could out-run them, Captain - but only through retreat. We
|
|
cannot out-maneuver them. Each suit appears to be generating some
|
|
manner of warp-bubble. Giving it unprecedented maneuverability and
|
|
agility. I doubt our tracking systems will be able to target them
|
|
succesffullyI
|
|
|
|
Picard: Turnabout is fairplay, right Number One? Shield status!
|
|
|
|
Worf: *sub* optimal, Captain. Restored to perhaps twenty-five percent.
|
|
|
|
Riker: While their still in tight formation...
|
|
|
|
|
|
Picard: Right, Number One. Arm photon torpedos, Lieutenant Worf. Fire
|
|
immediately when ready.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Space. The Zentradi BattleSuits - dull grey, robotic in appearance,
|
|
carrying huge gun-like weaponry - scream towards the Federation vessels
|
|
in clumps. The fewest move towards the Yamato, yet the one leading the
|
|
way is not a BattleSuit, and is not piloted by a Zentradi.
|
|
|
|
Lady Miria Piria - human - pilots the Mortarr Head Zegund, a towering
|
|
suit of armor resplendently colored, towards the flagship. Only two
|
|
Zentradi back her up. She moves with a speed that puts increasing
|
|
distance between her and her 'backups' - unconcerned.
|
|
|
|
In the cockpit of the Zegund, Miria's eyes narrow. A fiercely beautiful
|
|
woman with electric green hair.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Miria: Space is a terrible place to die, alien.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Space. The Enterprise fires a volley of photon torpedos. The brilliant
|
|
jewels streak towards the attacking 'Suits - which scatter moments
|
|
before the explosion.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Riker: Like throwing rocks at water bugs...
|
|
|
|
Data: I do not understand the analogy...
|
|
|
|
Picard: Evasive! Give us everything you've got, Mr. La Forge.
|
|
Phasers! Fire!
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
The Enterprise begins to swirl about, as phaser lance in every
|
|
direction. On several occassions, the beams appear very close to a
|
|
Zentradi warrior, the contortions of which constantly remove them from
|
|
danger. The Zentradi return fire, though their weapons have little
|
|
immediate impact on the Enterprise's shields. They begin to move
|
|
closer. Drawing a net.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Riker: If they close with us...
|
|
|
|
Picard: If they close with us, we're doomed, Number One.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Enterprise main bridge. Lynn and Kyle survey the scene.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Kyle: Heheheh...
|
|
|
|
Lynn: I should think matters not so funny.
|
|
|
|
Kyle: Bitterly humourous. The mighty humbled by the small, in turn
|
|
humbled by the yet smaller. Look how the computers fire at targets
|
|
which aren't there. Look how our death circles in on us, even as we
|
|
circled in on the giant ships.
|
|
|
|
Lynn: Perhaps the smaller, the better?
|
|
|
|
Kyle: Not so simple. Think of how ineffective these armored suits
|
|
would be against the giants which carried them. Equally helpless as we
|
|
are now. Though, perhaps not so helpless... Can you control the phaser
|
|
fire from this bridge.
|
|
|
|
Lynn: I... uh, yes. I suppose. Manual control can be given precedence
|
|
over single banks...
|
|
|
|
Kyle: Do it.
|
|
|
|
Lynn: You're going to start shooting?
|
|
|
|
Kyle: Yes.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Enterprise battle bridge. The crew watches with increasing trepedition
|
|
as the Zentradi close in. A particularly menacing BattleSuit appears on
|
|
the foreward screen.
|
|
|
|
And is cut in half by a phaser, eventually disintegrating completely.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Riker: Well, that's progress...
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Several more Zentradi suits fall to phaser fire.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Picard: Could our computers have learned something, I wonder?
|
|
|
|
Data: I do not think it possible, Captain.
|
|
|
|
Riker: It's clearly possible...
|
|
|
|
Worf: Three attackers have been destroyed.
|
|
|
|
Data: All in the foreward firing zones.
|
|
|
|
Picard: A hole. Commander Data, move us through! Engineering!
|
|
Evacuate!
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Enterprise main bridge.
|
|
|
|
Kyle sits at a console, a sight placed over his head. Lynn sits nearby
|
|
him, furiously working the controls of a computer console.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Lynn: There's a lot of damage. Keeping an open circuit is very
|
|
difficult. No targets are moving into range... Yet. I'm scanning the
|
|
other ships... Oh, we're moving!
|
|
|
|
Kyle: Through the hole! Probably going to swing about... No?
|
|
|
|
Lynn: We're charging the main ship!
|
|
|
|
Kyle: Insanity!
|
|
|
|
Lynn: Wesley!
|
|
|
|
Kyle: What?!
|
|
|
|
Lynn: Wesley! He's on that ship! He's in trouble...
|
|
|
|
|
|
Lynn's fingers fly over her controls, and an image of the Yamato appears
|
|
on a display near them. The Yamato has destroyed the two Zentradi
|
|
battle suits, but Lady Piria is another matter.
|
|
|
|
Her Mortarr Head has penetrated the shields, and has grasped onto the
|
|
main neck of the ship like a leach. She slashes the hull with a glowing
|
|
energy blade.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Kyle: Like a little ant on a large one - that thing's going to tear all
|
|
the way through. Kind of poetic justice...
|
|
|
|
Lynn: Kyle! We've got to do something!
|
|
|
|
Kyle: What?!
|
|
|
|
Lynn: Shoot it off!
|
|
|
|
Kyle: We're going the wrong way!
|
|
|
|
Lynn: Use a different bank! Here! Do it!
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Enterprise battle bridge.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Worf: Target vessel surface energy levels rising.
|
|
|
|
Riker: This is going to hurt...
|
|
|
|
Picard: Time!
|
|
|
|
Data: Fifteen seconds to execution.
|
|
|
|
Worf: Target vessel energy levels stabilizing.
|
|
|
|
Riker: Shift course, random offset to ten to twenty degrees!
|
|
|
|
Worf: Target vessel... firing.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
The screens flare white with the unleashed firepower of Azonia's
|
|
flagship. The Enterprise rocks fiercely.
|
|
|
|
Worf: Shields failing...
|
|
|
|
Data: Eleven seconds.
|
|
|
|
Picard: Engineering! Report!
|
|
|
|
Geordi: Ready, Captain!
|
|
|
|
Worf: Port-aft phaser, firing, Captain...
|
|
|
|
Picard: What!?
|
|
|
|
Data: Six seconds.
|
|
|
|
Worf: Shields down.
|
|
|
|
Riker: Why did that phaser?
|
|
|
|
Picard: No time! Implement!
|
|
|
|
Data: Implementing.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Space.
|
|
|
|
The Enterprise pushes through her Zentradi attackers, streaking towards
|
|
the flagship. She banks. The flagship let's fly a withering gale of
|
|
glaring beams. The Enterprise continues to close, her remaining
|
|
Zentradi attackers close in pursuit.
|
|
|
|
A single phaser shot lances from the rear section of her saucer. It
|
|
cuts through space. Towards the Yamato.
|
|
|
|
The distant, shieldless Yamato.
|
|
|
|
Lady Piria and the Zegund are struck. The range, too great - the
|
|
Mortarr Head to potent. The damage is slight. But Piria is knocked
|
|
back. She looses her grip on the Yamato, and drifts into space.
|
|
Shaking herself briefly, she readies for another dive. The Yamato opens
|
|
up, but expecting these beams - she evades them easily.
|
|
|
|
Goadingly, she allows one to strike her buckler, dissipating the energy.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Piria: One well placed blow, alien, shall not save you from an icy
|
|
grave.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
The Enterprise, meanwhile, rotates abruptly. Another phaser snakes
|
|
forth. Slicing through one of her own nacelle pylons - severing it.
|
|
The Enterpise continues it's rotation, until it faces away from the
|
|
flagship. The nacelle continues in it's trajectory. As the Enterprise
|
|
warps away - she launches a single torpedo.
|
|
|
|
The Yamato warps.
|
|
|
|
The R'Shall warps.
|
|
|
|
Even as Piria gloats over the cowardice of her foe, the torpedo strikes
|
|
the nacelle. A cataclysmic explosion ensues. Piria's mortar head
|
|
becomes a silhouette against it's brilliance. Milliseconds before the
|
|
explosion engulf's it, the Zegund vanishes in a brilliant sphere of
|
|
light.
|
|
|
|
The explosion passes.
|
|
|
|
The Zegund reappears. All that remains of Azonia's carrier is the top
|
|
of it's burned out hull. The Zegund approaches.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Piria: A well-placed time slip, Hermes... Can you reach the fleet?
|
|
|
|
Hermes [her Fatima, remotely]: Yes, Mistress.
|
|
|
|
Piria: Excellent.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Another flare, and the Zegund vanishes.
|
|
|
|
Five Star Trek - 17
|
|
|
|
Last lines - Part 16:
|
|
|
|
|
|
Even as Piria gloats over the cowardice of her foe, the torpedo
|
|
strikes the nacelle. A cataclysmic explosion ensues. Piria's
|
|
mortar head becomes a silhouette against it's brilliance.
|
|
Milliseconds before the explosion engulf's it, the Zegund vanishes in
|
|
a brilliant sphere of light.
|
|
|
|
The explosion passes.
|
|
|
|
The Zegund reappears. All that remains of Azonia's carrier is the
|
|
top of it's burned out hull. The Zegund approaches.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Piria: A well-placed time slip, Hermes... Can you reach the fleet?
|
|
|
|
Hermes [her Fatima, remotely]: Yes, Mistress.
|
|
|
|
Piria: Excellent.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Another flare, and the Zegund vanishes.
|
|
|
|
|
|
Part 17:
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Poseidal's command chamber. The general sits on his throne, resplendent
|
|
in his satin robes of a myriad hues. Atrophos hovers nearby, her head
|
|
slightly bowed. Aisha approaches down the long catwalk. The chatter of
|
|
the Grand Adas bridgecrew buzzes constantly in the background.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: Have the Earth forces been fully briefed?
|
|
|
|
Aisha: They have, Great Poseidal.
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: Their reaction to our casualty estimates?
|
|
|
|
Aisha: Those, Great Poseidal, I did not convey.
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: Why is that?
|
|
|
|
Aisha: I did not feel they would take the news well.
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: No. Most likely, they wouldn't have believed you, anyway.
|
|
The orbiting space station. It has been reduced to a minimal crew?
|
|
|
|
Aisha: The need to do so was communicated. I do not know if they have
|
|
acted on our suggestion.
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: And you don't care?
|
|
|
|
Aisha: I do not.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Poseidal rises.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: No. I would not have expected you to.
|
|
|
|
Atrophos: Captain Picard has been trying to contact you, My Lord, for
|
|
the last week. You have refused to talk to him. The Enterprise has
|
|
been in dock all that time. You refuse to see him. Why is that?
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: Picard is a difficult man to talk to.
|
|
|
|
Atrophos: It is not the man, it is what you refuse to tell him.
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: It is more complicated than you would like it to be, dear
|
|
Atrophos. I cannot tell him.
|
|
|
|
Atrophos: Explain to me why you cannot.
|
|
|
|
Aisha: You overstep yourself, Atrophos. Even as one of the Fates
|
|
Fatima.
|
|
|
|
Atrophos: I am sorry, Lady Aisha, but I do not think so. Explain to
|
|
me, Great Poseidal, why you cannot tell Captain Picard about the bio-
|
|
relation pool. About our Tranference home. About the shock it will
|
|
deal to the world of his birth.
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: They must fight, Atrophos. Fight with single determination.
|
|
We alone are a match for the Zentradi fleet, were it only ourselves we
|
|
were fighting for. But we are not just ourselves. We must keep this
|
|
world from harm. Bretai knows I mean to use the bio-relation pool to
|
|
return to Gustogol. He will try and destroy this world. To damage it
|
|
beyond a condition which may sustain the bio-relation pool. If he
|
|
succeeds, we will be trapped. We shall need the Federation's best
|
|
effort.
|
|
|
|
Atrophos: They are without choice. If they do not help us, the
|
|
Zentradi will completely destroy this world - as they did the other two.
|
|
If they do help us, the world will survive. They deserve to know the
|
|
truth.
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: Focus, Atrophos. They must be focused.
|
|
|
|
Atrophos: You have never learned, Great Poseidal, to trust in the
|
|
determination of others. Beyond your Mirage Knights, you see only
|
|
faceless, untrustworthy strangers. That is a sad life.
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: But I am Poseidal, and it is my way.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
A room. Very large. Furnished in an obviously expensive manner.
|
|
Ancient antiques. Chinese antiques. Lynn Ming, wearing a priceless
|
|
silk gown - bold with dragons and phoenixes of gold - stretches herself
|
|
across a soft, bed-like couch. Wesley stands, uneasily, by a window,
|
|
looking out.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Lynn: The war isn't over, is it?
|
|
|
|
Wesley: No.
|
|
|
|
Lynn: More death... And you will be at your station?
|
|
|
|
Wesley: Yes.
|
|
|
|
Lynn: And this time, failure means the end of our world?
|
|
|
|
Wesley: Yes.
|
|
|
|
Lynn: It will be exciting, then, to wait down here - blind to the
|
|
goings on in space. Wait. Wait for the end. Or not the end. And how
|
|
will we know that it is over, and we have won? Not until you come back.
|
|
Just horrible waiting. You will know, one way or the other, the instant
|
|
the battle is won or lost. But here, I can only wait for death; or keep
|
|
on waiting and, not having died, still not know if soon I will die, or
|
|
if soon, you'll come back and the war will be over. Do you know what
|
|
would be even worse than to die, though? Wesley? Worse than dying
|
|
would be to live, and know that you have died.
|
|
|
|
Wesley: Many things are worse than dying. Mine. Or... or even yours.
|
|
Worse would be for us all to die. For this world to become like...
|
|
Like others. That would be worse than 'just' dying.
|
|
|
|
Lynn: You're right... But I still don't want you to die.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Kyle enters. He nods to Wesley, who nods back.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Kyle: They're here.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Lynn sighs heavily.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Lynn: I guess you'll have to go, now, Wesley... It's time for my own
|
|
little war. Time for the lights to shine and the cameras to roll, and
|
|
for me to relate how breatheless I was - standing on the bridge of the
|
|
Enterprise watching the blackness of space turn to fire and light and
|
|
death. Good bye, Wesley.
|
|
|
|
Wesley: Good bye.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Kyle leads Wesley out. Lynn watches them go. She wipes a little tear
|
|
from under her eye, then assumes the regal manner of a princess from a
|
|
long-lost age.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
One of the Enterprise science labs. Data stands before a projection,
|
|
one which appears an image of Earth. A lot of really nifty lines and
|
|
patches of color swirl all over the place.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Data:
|
|
|
|
Using data collected by Federation observation centers, both on the
|
|
surface and in orbit, I have constructed the following model of the
|
|
unusual energy fluctuations between Earth and the Grand Adas. The color
|
|
red indicates fields of energy, they nature of which remains a mystery
|
|
to us.
|
|
|
|
Upon arrival the arrival of the Grand Adas, no such fields are visible.
|
|
You will note, however, that the Grand Adas itself begins generating
|
|
detectable quantities within a day of arrival. It appears to be
|
|
transfering some manner of energy to the planet. This transferal
|
|
continues for several days.
|
|
|
|
[the screen displays a funnel-like projection of hazy red - almost a
|
|
tornado - with the broad end encompassing the Grand Adas and the narrow
|
|
point dancing about in the Earth's upper atmosphere]
|
|
|
|
Then, abruptly, the funnel reverses. The Grand Adas appears to be
|
|
harvesting some manner of energy from the Earth - after having seeded
|
|
the planet with that same energy.
|
|
|
|
Picard: Harm to the planet?
|
|
|
|
Data: None that I can detect. If anything, it appears to be
|
|
stimulating the growth of micro-organisms in all of Earth's oceans.
|
|
|
|
Riker: I doubt there are no strings attatched to this 'gift.'
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Picard nods.
|
|
|
|
|
|
Picard: But what can we do? Can this energy be blocked?
|
|
|
|
Data: Difficult to say, Captain. I do not believe we are detecting the
|
|
actual source, but rather the symptomatic radiations. At this time, we
|
|
cannot block it; as to the future...
|
|
|
|
Picard: As to the future, we may not have one. This is a fascinating
|
|
development, Data. But I am afraid it must take a second seat to the
|
|
immediate situation: that being, the imminent arrival of a fleet bent
|
|
on our complete desctruction.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Bretai's command chamber.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Bretai: Exedore, what is the state of the fleet?
|
|
|
|
Exedore: All ships, battle ready, Supreme Commander.
|
|
|
|
Bretai: The BattleSuits and Mortarr Heads have deployed themselves
|
|
along our hulls?
|
|
|
|
Exedore: They have.
|
|
|
|
Bretai: Excellent. What of the aliens?
|
|
|
|
Exedore: Long range intelligence indicates very few alien ships massed
|
|
near the Grand Adas. They appear to be preparing a perimeter defense of
|
|
of the planet's far side.
|
|
|
|
Bretai: Poseidal means to protect his jewel from harm. He has
|
|
correctly deduced he cannot achieve this goal of his own means. It is
|
|
unfortunate this region of space had to be occupied by an intelligent
|
|
life form.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Poseidal's command chamber.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
A misty holograph appears before Poseidal. The form is of a thin woman,
|
|
with large, hazy eyes.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Woman: Fatima Bio-Web reporting. Zentradi fleet sighted and tracked.
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: Acknowledged. Aisha, assemble the Mirage.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Enterprise bridge.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Worf: Captain, long-range intelligence estimates four hours until
|
|
contact with alien fleet. It's composition has remained constant: three
|
|
carriers like the one encountered above Betazed. Seven slightly
|
|
smaller, denser vessels - battleships, perhaps. Eighteen heavy cruisers
|
|
and twenty-one cruisers.
|
|
|
|
Riker: I hope the Grand Adas is as potent as Poseidal says...
|
|
|
|
Picard: So do I. But then, what will we be leaping out of the frying
|
|
pan into?
|
|
|
|
Data: The fire, Captain?
|
|
|
|
Picard: Excellent, Data.
|
|
|
|
Worf: Captain, a localized sub-space disturbance. The pattern matches
|
|
that of Poseidal's "Mortarr Head".
|
|
|
|
Riker: He's coming out to play?
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Space. High above Earth. The Knight of Gold appears, brilliantly
|
|
silhouetted against the blue sphere. Lot's of nifty, anime-like close
|
|
in shots of the hands opening, the eyes gleaming, yellow flames rolling
|
|
across the armor, etc.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: Greetings, Captain Picard. So here we are, high above the
|
|
Third World. What is it's name?
|
|
|
|
Picard: Earth.
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: Here we are, high above Earth. The Zentradi are very near.
|
|
It is time to take your ship to the planet's far side.
|
|
|
|
Picard: We have time. Time for a few answers. What...?
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: No, Captain Picard. There is no time.
|
|
|
|
|
|
Rapid changes of scene:
|
|
|
|
>Bretai's command chamber.
|
|
|
|
Bretai: Effect the transfer.
|
|
|
|
>Grand Adas bridge
|
|
|
|
Aisha: Begin initialization sequence for primary weapon.
|
|
|
|
Crew: Primary weapon sequence engaged. Ez-laser turbines, currently
|
|
one-hundred percent.
|
|
|
|
>Space. The Knight of Gold.
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: You must move your ship now, Captain. The Zentradi mean
|
|
to attack immediately.
|
|
|
|
Picard: I don't trust you, Poseidal.
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: You have no choice.
|
|
|
|
>Grand Adas bridge
|
|
|
|
Appearing Holo: Fatima Bio-Web reporting. Zentradi fleet has
|
|
pulsed bio-relation reserves.
|
|
|
|
Aisha: De-activate Point Defense system.
|
|
|
|
Crew: Point defense de-activated. Ez-laser turbine feed-back loop
|
|
increased. Turbines currently at seven-hundred percent.
|
|
|
|
>Enterprise bridge
|
|
|
|
Data: Captain, the Grand Adas has begun to emit considerable levels
|
|
of secondary radiation. I believe I can map her interior power
|
|
generation architecture, now.
|
|
|
|
Picard: Do so.
|
|
|
|
|
|
[A secondary screen shows a wire-frame of the Grand Adas. A network
|
|
of vaguely biological shapes - almost a circulatory system - begins
|
|
to solidify within the wires.]
|
|
|
|
Picard: Capacity?
|
|
|
|
Data: For all intents and purposes, Captain, the Grand Adas appears
|
|
capable of producing power of unlimited intensity. Our estimates
|
|
would be meaningless.
|
|
|
|
>Grand Adas
|
|
|
|
Crew: Ez-laser turbines, currently one-thousand, four-hundred
|
|
percent...
|
|
|
|
Aisha: Retract primary inhibitor.
|
|
|
|
Crew: Retracting.
|
|
|
|
[Space. The Grand Adas, floating gracefully - a beautiful, poisonous
|
|
fish. At the tip, a coalescing blob of energy.]
|
|
|
|
>Enterprise bridge.
|
|
|
|
Worf: Captain, we have lost the alien fleet!
|
|
|
|
Data: Captain, the Grand Adas has currently generated and stored
|
|
enough power - if they wished to crack the planet, I believe the
|
|
could...
|
|
|
|
>The Knight of Gold
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: Picard, in seconds the space you are in will become a
|
|
maelstrom of fire and death. Move your ship now, or you will be
|
|
destroyed. Such is war.
|
|
|
|
[The Knight of Gold begins to move through the forms of a mystic
|
|
kata. A dull red glow surrounds the burnished armor. It leaps into
|
|
space, answered by another bolt from the planet below. Crystalizing
|
|
in the void, a glowing, red symbol. The cross of the Knights
|
|
Mirage.]
|
|
|
|
>Enterprise bridge.
|
|
|
|
Riker: Well, Captain?
|
|
|
|
Picard: Move us into position. All possible haste.
|
|
|
|
[Space. The Enterprise warps away]
|
|
|
|
>Grand Adas
|
|
|
|
Crew: Ez-laser turbines at two-thousand, eight-hundred percent.
|
|
|
|
Aisha: Re-activate Point Defense.
|
|
|
|
Crew: Activated.
|
|
|
|
Fatima Bio-Web: Zentradi fleet completing transference. Predicted
|
|
point of arrival margin of error - minor signifance. Corrected
|
|
position, calculating... Displayed.
|
|
|
|
Aisha: Re-align!
|
|
|
|
Crew: Ship rotating...
|
|
|
|
Crew: Zentradi vessels materializing...
|
|
|
|
Crew: Rotation complete. Zentradi fleet breaking up...
|
|
|
|
Aisha: Fire!
|
|
|
|
Five Star Trek - 18
|
|
|
|
Last lines - Part 17:
|
|
|
|
|
|
Crew: Ez-laser turbines at two-thousand, eight-hundred percent.
|
|
|
|
Aisha: Re-activate Point Defense.
|
|
|
|
Crew: Activated.
|
|
|
|
Fatima Bio-Web: Zentradi fleet completing transference. Predicted
|
|
point of arrival margin of error - minor signifance. Corrected
|
|
position, calculating... Displayed.
|
|
|
|
Aisha: Re-align!
|
|
|
|
Crew: Ship rotating...
|
|
|
|
Crew: Zentradi vessels materializing...
|
|
|
|
Crew: Rotation complete. Zentradi fleet breaking up...
|
|
|
|
Aisha: Fire!
|
|
|
|
|
|
Part 18:
|
|
|
|
|
|
>Space.
|
|
|
|
The Grand Adas. An explosion of brilliant energy at it's bow. A
|
|
giant fireball, from which extends are spiraling beam, of
|
|
intertwining, multi-colored threads. People with active imaginations
|
|
would see snaking dragons, everyone else: just fire. They streak
|
|
towards the Zentradi fleet, even as the Zentradi ships begin to
|
|
separate. Many of the smaller vessels disintegrate despite not being
|
|
in the beam. Despite their size, even the larger ships are dwarfed
|
|
by the maelstrom, many destroyed.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
>Bretai's command chamber
|
|
|
|
Blinding light emanates from the arrayed monitors. Debris flies
|
|
through the air as the ship rattles. Even so, the powerful commander
|
|
keeps his composure. He grasps a steel rail. The rail bends under
|
|
it's strength.
|
|
|
|
|
|
Bretai: Return fire! All ships, return fire!
|
|
|
|
|
|
The Zentradi guns respond to the Grand Adas even as the initial blast
|
|
subsides. Ships on the fringe of the fleet scatter. A cloud of
|
|
BattleSuits advances, lead by several human piloted Mortarr Heads,
|
|
including Piria and the Zegund.
|
|
|
|
>Grand Adas
|
|
|
|
Aisha: Zentradi status!
|
|
|
|
Crew: Calculating... Two carriers...
|
|
|
|
Crew: Including Bretai's command vessel, three battleships...
|
|
|
|
Crew: Eight heavy cruisers, eleven cruisers.
|
|
|
|
Crew: BattleSuit count indeterminate at this time. All known Boorey
|
|
Headliners accounted for and approaching.
|
|
|
|
|
|
Aisha nods.
|
|
|
|
|
|
Aisha: MBring ship to full broadside. Ready main guns.
|
|
|
|
Crew: Incoming fire!
|
|
|
|
>Space.
|
|
|
|
The Zentradi guns strike home, but everywhere they hit, a disk of
|
|
radiant energy flares up, appearing to absorb the entire blow. Some
|
|
shots hit the brilliant sails, dispersing along them - absorbed.
|
|
|
|
>Knight of Gold
|
|
|
|
Interior. Dark, dim. Lavender and redish light. Poseidal's eyes
|
|
are closed. The open slowly. His oddly colored eyes - one blue, on
|
|
gold - flare with inuman light. His delicate features, too perfect
|
|
to be human, appear momentarily demonic. Above, in the Head,
|
|
Atrophos undergoes a similar mutation. The Knight of Gold flares to
|
|
life, a lightning-like bolt transforming into a wicked scythe.
|
|
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: Mirage Knights! To me!
|
|
|
|
|
|
The Knight of Gold cuts several swaths of space with it's scythe as
|
|
we pan back. All around it, spheres of light expand, then contract.
|
|
In their place - other Mortarr Heads, including Rogner. All wear the
|
|
red cross of Poseidal.
|
|
|
|
|
|
>A subterranean, super-dimensional-type bunker. Massive steel support
|
|
columns, glittering monitors, uniformed peoples. Lynn and Kyle, seated
|
|
at a table, look up at a monitor.
|
|
|
|
Lynn: It's a little less immediate, being here in this bunker and
|
|
not in a spaceship - the threat of death...
|
|
|
|
Kyle: No less immediate. The bombs that shattered the Betazed fault
|
|
lines could easily reach us.
|
|
|
|
Lynn: You think some will get through?
|
|
|
|
Kyle: Some will get through. And a lot depends on our alien
|
|
'protectors.'
|
|
|
|
Lynn: You don't trust them?
|
|
|
|
Kyle: No.
|
|
|
|
Lynn: It's still less immediate. And I have faith.
|
|
|
|
Kyle: Faith in Star Fleet?
|
|
|
|
Lynn: In Star Fleet, and just in general.
|
|
|
|
Kyle: What is it that you have faith will happen?
|
|
|
|
Lynn: I have faith that...
|
|
|
|
Kyle: Yes?
|
|
|
|
Lynn: We will win.
|
|
|
|
>Space. High Earth Orbit. The orbital space station is engaging them
|
|
with it's heavier phaser weaponry. The beams are potent enough to cut
|
|
through the cruisers' armor. The station, however, being stationary,
|
|
is very vulnerable to the Zentradi heavy guns - and is suffering
|
|
terrible punishment.
|
|
|
|
Many, many Federation ships have also engaged the Zentradi - many more
|
|
than were at Betazed. They keep further back this time, primarily
|
|
directing photon torpedos towards the cruisers and using phasers to
|
|
destroy missile weapons launched at the planet.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
>Bretai's command chamber.
|
|
|
|
Exedore: We have closed with the Grand Adas. The Grzz and Ur have
|
|
likewise closed. We are having some effect, but cannot withstand her
|
|
superior firepower for long.
|
|
|
|
Bretai: We need withstand it only for long enough... What is the
|
|
condition of the planet?
|
|
|
|
Exedore: Our missile weapons are not getting through. The aliens
|
|
are using both their ships and specialized, atmospheric defenses
|
|
against them. No gamalon devices have been detonated. Smaller
|
|
missiles have gotten through - no more than fifty megatons.
|
|
|
|
Bretai: Then we must use weapons that cannot be intercepted. Order
|
|
all cruisers to fire capital guns on targets determined to be most
|
|
damaging to the biosphere. Ignore alien military marks.
|
|
|
|
Exedore: Commander, the planet is highly industrialized. If we
|
|
target major production centers...
|
|
|
|
Bretai: The side effects of the attack could cause even more severe
|
|
damage to the biosphere... Excellent. See that your suggestion is
|
|
implemented.
|
|
|
|
Exedore: Yes, commander.
|
|
|
|
|
|
>Space. Close in on the Knight of Gold. A swarm of Zentradi
|
|
BattleSuits surround Poseidal. By the red glint in the Knight of Gold's
|
|
eyes, we see that this is the prefered state of affairs for both pilot
|
|
and piloted. Inside, Poseidal no longer appears himself. He has almost
|
|
completely transformed into a demonic being - raging hair, burning eyes,
|
|
unearthly beauty. Atrophos, too, has lost all semblance of a little
|
|
girl. She has become nearly indistinguishable from Poseidal.
|
|
|
|
The Knight of Gold rips into a BattleSuit with his hands. For a moment,
|
|
the gleaming metal is covered by gore. Under the flames, it slowly
|
|
disolves. As the Zentradi crumples and vanishes, he his replaced by a
|
|
garish Mortarr Headd. The Knight of Gold assumes a more cautious - but
|
|
still confident - stance.
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: Ah, the Lord of the Boorey. Your creations have done
|
|
well. I am most impressed. But has the master become the toy.
|
|
|
|
Lord: The Zentradi do as I command.
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: Bretai still gives you the luxury of that illusion?
|
|
|
|
Lord: It is no illusion.
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: Perhaps. But neither am I.
|
|
|
|
The Knight of Gold hurls itself towards the Boorey knight. A vicious
|
|
exchange of blows takes place. The Knight of Gold crouches, the Boorey
|
|
rushes in. The scythe rips upward. The Boorey is caught. Cleaved.
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: Neither am I...
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
>Bretai's command chamber
|
|
|
|
Bretai: Are we near enough?
|
|
|
|
Exedore: Our vessel and the Ur are in position. Damage to the Grzz
|
|
has been severe enough to impede them...
|
|
|
|
Bretai: They must make it!
|
|
|
|
Exedore: By my estimation, they will be in position within three
|
|
minutes.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
>Grand Adas. Aisha sits in Poseidal's command chair. The entire battle
|
|
dances about her in brilliant, holographic detail. Her eyes fallow the
|
|
dazzling dance without confusion.
|
|
|
|
Aisha [musing]: What are you up to, Bretai? Putting yourself so
|
|
close to our guns. You can't last...
|
|
|
|
Aisha leaps up.
|
|
|
|
Aisha: Time slip! Now!
|
|
|
|
Crew: But our bio-relation reserves...
|
|
|
|
Aisha: Now!
|
|
|
|
>Bretai's command chamber
|
|
|
|
Excedore: The Grzz has positioned itself...
|
|
|
|
Bretai: Status of the Gamalon devices?
|
|
|
|
Exedore: All four have been positioned along our primary generator
|
|
coils. Timing systems fully operational. Propulsion units, awaiting
|
|
pulse signal.
|
|
|
|
Bretai: Detonate
|
|
|
|
|
|
>Space. The three Zentradi super-carriers surrounding the Grand Adas
|
|
explode in an infernal cataclysm. The crest of the explosion expands
|
|
rapidly, burning through space. The combat is engulfed. The flames
|
|
reach into the atmosphere of Earth and scar the surface.
|
|
|
|
In a Kamikaze dive, the carriers on the planet's far side turn away from
|
|
the federation ships and head for the planet. They are fired on
|
|
fiercely, but to little avail. The crash, sending up mighty explosions
|
|
of their own.
|
|
|
|
And then, silence.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Enterprise bridge. Shock.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Riker: Is it over? All of the aliens - including Poseidal - gone?
|
|
|
|
Picard: That would seem awfully convenient...
|
|
|
|
Worf: Preliminary sensor readings indicate all alien ships - gone.
|
|
|
|
Data: The strength of the explosion was truly monumental, Captain.
|
|
Much of the matter caught within it's immediate vicinity has been
|
|
reduced to stray sub-atomic particles - many of which have decayed.
|
|
It is very difficult to estimate whether or not the remaining mass
|
|
and energy accounts for all ships present...
|
|
|
|
Worf: Energy fluctuations being detected. High Earth Orbit.
|
|
|
|
Picard: Yes. That's more like it...
|
|
|
|
Riker: Some kind of trick?
|
|
|
|
Picard: Who knows? How severe was the planetary impact?
|
|
|
|
Data: Very severe, Captain. No casualty estimates at this time.
|
|
|
|
Worf: Small craft appearing. The Mortarr Heads, Captain.
|
|
|
|
Picard: Poseidal?
|
|
|
|
Worf: One matches the characteristics of Poseidal's golden knight.
|
|
|
|
Riker: Some form of teleportation?
|
|
|
|
Data: More likely, a temporal displacement.
|
|
|
|
Picard: And the Grand Adas?
|
|
|
|
Data: Controled temporal displacements require nearly immeasurable
|
|
supplies of energy. Perhaps the Grand Adas has generated sufficient
|
|
energy to both power it's giant canon and perform some manner of
|
|
temmporal displacement - but I am doubtful.
|
|
|
|
Riker: But the Mortarr Heads?
|
|
|
|
Data: Smaller masses require less energy, but I again it seems unlikely
|
|
the known power generations capabilities of those craft could support
|
|
such an operation.
|
|
|
|
Picard: Yet they did.
|
|
|
|
Data: So it would appear.
|
|
|
|
Picard: And so could the Grand Adas...
|
|
|
|
Worf: Much larger energy fluctuations appearing, Captain...
|
|
|
|
Riker: Right on cue.
|
|
|
|
Worf: The Grand Adas. Poseidal is hailing us.
|
|
|
|
Picard: Onscreen.
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: Well, Captain Picard - and people of Earth - the battle is
|
|
done.
|
|
|
|
Picard: Is it?
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Poseidal does not get to answer. A blinding flash fills the interior of
|
|
the Knight of Gold's control chamber. Cut back to space. A white
|
|
fireball fades, in it's place - a gleaming white Mortarr Head. Whiter
|
|
than arctic snow, glowing with it's own light.
|
|
|
|
The Junchoon. Piloted by Atrophos sister, Clotho.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Clotho: It is done, Great Poseidal. You shall not have this world. As
|
|
Fates Fatima Clotho, bond-mate of Colus III and headliner of the
|
|
Junchoon, I challenge you, Great Poseidal. By our Code, you must
|
|
accept.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
The remaining mirage knights circle about the newcomer and their leader.
|
|
Rogner moves forward.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Rogner: No, Clotho. You are not a headliner. You cannot claim the
|
|
Code.
|
|
|
|
Clotho: I am Fates Fatima Clotho. I claim the rights of a headliner.
|
|
|
|
Rogner: Even as one of the Fates Fatima, you do not have the right.
|
|
And even as Headliner, only a King of Queen may challenge Poseidal
|
|
directly. Before your challenge, you must first fight the Mirage. And
|
|
you cannot win, Clotho. Even you.
|
|
|
|
Clotho: No?
|
|
|
|
Aisha [remotely]: No, Clotho. Even the Sleeping Witch cannot stand
|
|
against all of the Mirage. But there is another way. I am a Queen.
|
|
And I am Regent - by appointment of Poseidal himself - to the world of
|
|
Colus. I have no heir, and as is might right, I give that title to you.
|
|
|
|
Mirage Knight: Preposterous!
|
|
|
|
Aisha: It is my right, and as Mirage Knight One, none may challenge it
|
|
save Poseidal himself. What say Poseidal?
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Long silence.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: Captain Picard?
|
|
|
|
Picard [remotely]: Yes?
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: Captain Picard, could you transport my Fatima to your ship
|
|
using that strange device of yours.
|
|
|
|
Picard: Not through your the energy fluctuations you are currently
|
|
generating.
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: I shall cease generating them. But Captain, no tricks.
|
|
Things should go very badly for you were you to try and trick me.
|
|
|
|
Atrophos: My Lord! There is no need! I will not dishonor you. You
|
|
have my allegiance, unquestioned and undying...
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: I cannot ask you to kill your own sister, dear Atrophos...
|
|
Are you ready, Captain?
|
|
|
|
Picard: Yes.
|
|
|
|
Poseidal: Do so.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Atrophos is beamed abaord the Enterprise. We follow her. She appears
|
|
on the platform and is met by a group of security officers. She rushes
|
|
from the platform into the corridor. They rush after her, eventually
|
|
catching up. They redirect her frantic pace towards the bridge.
|
|
|
|
As soon as the turbo-lift doors open, she rushes in - catching Picard
|
|
half-rising from his chair. On screen, the Junchoon and the Knight of
|
|
Gold face each other tensely. The Mirage Knights have backed away.
|
|
|
|
Atrophos freezes. For several moments, she is silent.
|
|
|
|
The makes a small laugh.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Atrophos: I have lived many thousands of years, Captain. Served many
|
|
Lords before Poseidal. Helped raise their children. Teach them the
|
|
ways of a headliner. Do you know what one of the arguments young
|
|
children in our aristocratic houses often have? Of course not. How
|
|
could you... They argument about who would win: the Sleeping Witch in
|
|
the Junchoon, or Great Poseidal in the Knight of Gold. They get very
|
|
excited about it, children do. And it used to be so silly. Everyone
|
|
knew the Sleeping Witch wouldn't awaken...
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Onscreen, the Clotho launches herself at Poseidal. Atrophos continues
|
|
talking, as if nothing were happening. She is trying to put the battle
|
|
out of her mind.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Atrophos: ...Everyone knew that Great Poseidal and the Knight of Gold
|
|
couldn't be defeated.
|
|
|
|
Picard: Why are they fighting?
|
|
|
|
Atrophos: Clotho means to save your world, Captain. She believes she
|
|
was created to stop Poseidal.
|
|
|
|
Data: The same creators as the Zentradi?
|
|
|
|
Atrophos: Oh, no. But I suppose, the purpose is the same. An
|
|
artificial being meant to stop Poseidal.
|
|
|
|
Picard: Can she?
|
|
|
|
Atrophos: I don't know.
|
|
|
|
Picard: Save our world? Save it from what?
|
|
|
|
Atrophos: To return to our home, Poseidal must generate an awesome
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amount of bio-relation energy. To do this, he needs a world with a very
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advanced biosphere and some special harmony with the bio-relation pool.
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Such worlds are very, very rare, Captain. Poseidal's homeworld -
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Gustogol - was, and is, the most harmonic of worlds that has ever been
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found. But these world of yours - it will do.
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Riker: Do?
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Atrophos: Yes. It can generate the requisite energy. Very few can
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control such power. Perhaps only Poseidal and Clotho. Lachesis could,
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but she is gone... Perhaps I could - but I would never try. There are
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no others.
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Riker: And after the energy was generated?
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Atrophos: Much of it would be consumed powering the Transference
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between galaxies. The resulting shock would devastate your world. It
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would not be destroyed - not like the worlds attacked by the Zentradi -
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but the shock would kill many, many beings. Clotho means to prevent
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that.
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Worf: Perhaps we should help her.
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Atrophos: That would not be wise. The Mirage Knights would destroy
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your world as surely as the Zentradi in retribution.
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Picard: Well, at least we can root her on...
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Onscreen, the battle continues. Atrophos sinks into herself, not
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watching.
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Atrophos [silent thoughts]: Oh, Sister! Can you hear me? Lachesis!
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Please, you must help me! What am I to do?
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A vision appears on the screen. It is obvious only Atrophos sees it.
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It is of a beautiful woman. Tall and regal. Her hair is long and
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lavender, like Poseidal. Her eyes, like his, are one gold, one blue. A
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diadem hangs on her forhead.
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Atrophos: Lachesis! You heard!
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Lachesis: Of course, dearest sister. Of course.
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Atrophos: I'm so afraid...
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Lachesis: I understand, dear sister. But I cannot give you the answer.
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Atrophos: You must! Oh, Lachesis, please! Please help me!
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Lachesis: You, too, are of the Fates Fatima, Atrophos. You, too, have
|
|
the answers. You need only look. Look, dear sister, and you shall find
|
|
the truth of what you must do.
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|
Atrophos is silent for a long while. The image of Lachesis fades.
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|
Behind, the battle rages. The Knight of Gold crouches, the Junchoon
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|
holds a more aggressive stance. Slowly, the Knight of Gold extends an
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arm, opening the fingers. The scyth slowly disolves.
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The Junchoon charges.
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Atrophos [crying]: I see...
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The Knight of Gold reaches up with it's hand.
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Atrophos [crying harder]: I see! I see!
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|
The Junchoon brings it's sword down, aiming for the Knight of Gold's
|
|
head. The Knight of Gold reaches up with it's hand, grabbing one of the
|
|
Junchoon's arms. The force of momentum carries the Knight of Gold
|
|
throw, tearing the arm from it's socket. The Junchoon keeps hold of
|
|
it's sword, but tumbles away, end over end. Far below, the blue eye of
|
|
Earth watches impassively.
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|
The Knight of Gold releases the arm. Slowly, the scythe reappears.
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Atrophos [whisper]: Knight of Gold...
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|
The Knight of Gold turns towards the still tumbling Junchoon.
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Atrophos [whisper]: Knight of Gold, it's Atrophos...
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|
The Junchoon stops tumbling. It rights itself and readies it's glowing
|
|
sword. The Knight of Gold slowly advances.
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Atrophos: Knight of Gold, hear me. Please. Hear me. This is what we
|
|
must do...
|
|
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|
The Knight of Gold raises the scythe high. The Junchoon crouches this
|
|
time, blade held low. The Knight of Gold starts to bring the sythe
|
|
down, then stops...
|
|
|
|
Inside, Poseidal appears shocked. Then, a gentle smile.
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|
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Poseidal: Atrophos... Dear Atrophos, at last, you do as you were made
|
|
to do...
|
|
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|
|
The Junchoon lurches upward, it's blade cutting deep into the Knight of
|
|
Gold. There is an explosion of pale flames - and then nothing. The
|
|
Knight of Gold is gone. Poseidal is gone.
|
|
|
|
On the Enterprise bridge, Atrophos collapses in exhaustion.
|
|
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|
Atrophos [telepathic]: Sister, this is what you must do.
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|
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|
|
For several moments, the Mirage stand in shock. Rogner steps forward.
|
|
He salutes Clotho. The others follow suit. The Mirage vanish,
|
|
teleporting back into the Grand Adas.
|
|
|
|
The Enterprise crew tries to revive Atrophos, but she does not respond.
|
|
As they do so, the screen is washed by a brilliant flash.
|
|
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|
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|
Worf: Captain, the Grand Adas is gone.
|
|
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|
Picard: The Earth! The Earth! Damage?
|
|
|
|
Data: No apparent trama to the planet...
|
|
|
|
Atrophos: She did not move the ship through space, Captain. Only time.
|
|
|
|
Picard: I don't understand.
|
|
|
|
Atrophos: It is rare for a world to possess the ability to support the
|
|
bio-relation pool. But possessing it, it must be realized the
|
|
possession occurs for all time, so long as the world supports life.
|
|
|
|
Picard: They've gone to rob some future Earth?
|
|
|
|
Atrophos: Not rob. And not future. They have gone into the past.
|
|
Many millions of years. Their future, your present. All in the past.
|
|
|
|
Riker: What?
|
|
|
|
Picard: Millions of years? The mass extinctions...?
|
|
|
|
Riker: Of the dinosaurs?
|
|
|
|
Atrophos: Millions of years. Your past. Their future. And your
|
|
present, too, Captain. Your present, too.
|
|
|
|
Picard: And what of you?
|
|
|
|
Atrophos: I shall stay here, with the ghost of my lord.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Space.
|
|
|
|
The blue Earth. We pull slowly away. The sun dawns over a horizon. We
|
|
continue to pull away. The sun separates - becomes a distinct sphere of
|
|
it's own. Further and further apart.
|
|
|
|
One blue orb, one golden.
|
|
|
|
The faint outline of Poseidal, his eyes.
|
|
|
|
His laughter.
|
|
|
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|
|
|
The End
|
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