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From: mcmelmon@taligent.com (Matthew C. Melmon)
Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
Subject: Five Star Trek - First Half (REPOST)
Message-ID: <30746@goofy.Apple.COM>
Date: 17 Sep 92 21:47:19 GMT
Sender: usenet@Apple.COM
Organization: Apple Computer, Inc.
Lines: 2735
Space.
The Enterprise floats slowly past.
Riker: Anything?
Data: No indications as to what may be causing
the sub-space anomolies at this time, Captain. Illogically,
the anomolies appear to be gaining in strength, despite the
absence of any apparent source. I suspect a source exists,
we simply cannot see it.
Riker: And you're sure we're sitting on the 'X?'
Data: The 'X,' Commander Riker?
Riker: 'X' marks the spot.
Riker: Which spot is that?
Picard: Where the treasure is buried.
Data: No, Captain. We are sitting near the 'X.'
Picard: Wise thinking.
Data: I thought so, Captain.
The Enterprise begins shaking lightly. It continues to
shake at regular intervals of approximately one minute.
Worf: Captain, the disturbances have begun increasing
markedly.
Picard: They're still originating from the same point?
Data: Yes, captain. They emanate from a
spherical region of space, roughly fifteen kilometers in
diameter. Our shields are being buffeted at a rate of
steadily increasing period. Current period, once per forty-
five seconds. Given shield surfaces as one unit
measurement, energy released roughly equals five percent of
a standard photon torpedo per unit measurement.
Worf: Shields holding, no signs of strain.
Riker: Something's about to blow...
Data: Blow, Commander?
Worf: Intensity increased to ten percent of standard
torpedo, period once every thirty seconds. Shields holding.
Picard: Back us off. Keep us between wave periods.
Data: Yes, Captain... Warp factor: point nine three
one four one five.
The Enterprise's engines hum. She stops shaking.
Data: I believe I have isolated the nature of
these anomolies...
Riker: Better explain quickly.
Data: The energy fronts are the by products of a
sustained tachyon decay. We are witnessing the echoes of a
future event...
Riker: Like I said, something's going to blow...
A dull glow begins to take shape on the Enterprise's screen.
Worf: Frequency of emissions increased to one per ten
seconds. Intensity increased to fifty percent of standard
torpedo.
Picard: Will those fronts overtake us?
Data: Not for a while, Captain.
Picard: See that they do not. If necessary, increase speed
to match them. Even if it takes us through the previous
fronts.
Worf: Frequency of emissions increased to one per second.
Intensity, two-hundred and thirty percent standard torpedo.
Picard: Engage warp...
The glow becomes increasingly bright. It expands.
Worf: Constant emission of energy, expanding outward at
near-light in both real and sub-space. Intensity,
approximately fifteen standard torpedos - per unit
measurement. We don't want to get caught by that, Captain.
Picard: Warp one.
The Enterprise drops into warp, backing away from the
growing sphere of light. A sudden pulse illuminates the
sphere from within. The Enterprise bridge crew shields
there eyes for a moment before the screen adjusts.
The internal glow subsudies. The original sphere continues
to expand. It dims slightly as it does so.
Riker: What the hell was that?
Worf: Sensors indicate a massive object now occupies the
center of the sphere.
Picard: How massive?
Data: Approximately ten point three kilometers
in length, two kilometers in width...
A cavernous room. Filled with giant screens and projected
holographs. The Enterprise appears in multiple
such projections. Tall, delicate humans walk amongst the
images and equipment.
They defer to a particular tall, androgynous man. His hair,
long and pale lavender. One eye, gold - the other
ultramarine blue. OLDNA POSEIDAL. His voice sounds distant
and musical, almost melancholy.
By Poseidals side, what appears to be a young, but
nevertheless very tall, girl. ATROPHOS. She walks slightly
behind Poseidal.
Atrophos: Great Poseidal, the bio-relation coils remain
almost fully charged. We were very fortunate the
transference went so well. There was no feed-back from
Gustogol.
Poseidal: Yes. Very fortunate... Has a world been located
suitable to a bio-relation transplant?
Atrophos: Yes, my Lord. The Sensitives report three
candidates.
Poseidal: Three?
Atrophos: Yes, my Lord. Again, we have been very
fortunate.
Poseidal takes a seat at the center of the command chamber.
Holographic images dance about him. Images of his vessel,
of the Enterprise and the Nadia, and of several planets
flash by.
Poseidal: Which world is furthest?
Atrophos: This one, my Lord.
A series of projections show a path leading to a dot.
Poseidal: And which one is nearest?
Atrophos: This one, my Lord.
Another series of projections, ending in a dot.
Poseidal: And which one is neither?
Atrophos: This one, my Lord.
Once again, more projections dance before Poseidal.
Poseidal: This one it is. Have any other signs of bio-
relation use been detected?
Atrophos: No, my Lord. We are alone, for the moment.
Poseidal: Yes. For the moment. Ready the ez-laser
turbines. I would rather not perform another transference.
Atrophos: Yes, my Lord. And what of this colorful moth?
A holographic Enterprise flits before the pair.
Poseidal: Pretty, isn't it?
Poseidal stands. He walks along a narrow catwalk towards
the main screens of the chamber. Navigational information
begins to flash across them. Many people work furiously
before consoles slightly bellow the catwalk. Several
moments of silence go by.
Poseidal: Engage the turbines.
Earth.
Starfleet's orbiting space station. A young Asian woman
runs through the mechanical corridors. Stunningly
beautiful, her long black hair flows out behind her in a
seemingly endless stream. She wears a gown which, even in
the egalitarian future appears exquisitely expensive.
LYNN MING. Pop star.
A small fighter-launch docks at one of the space bays.
Shortly thereafter, a young man emerges from a hatch.
Wesley Crusher. Cadet.
Almost immediately, a fellow Star Fleet cadet greets Wesley.
A Klingon - Glomras Metac. Soon after Glomras claps Wesley
on the back, Lynn appears on the scene. She rushes up to
Wesley and embraces him passionately - if somewhat naively.
The beautiful young woman is oblivious to her impact on the
male of the species.
Lynn: Wesley! I watched your flight. You were wonderful!
You're always so wonderful!
Wesley [stammering]: Really, it wasn't anything to write
home about...
Lynn: You're something to write home about! Oh, Wesley...
Another man appears. Tall, Asian. He carries himself like
a prince.
KYLE MING. Movie star.
Kyle wears something resembling traditional Chinese garb:
also exquisitely expensive. His long black hair falls
immaculately down his back, held in place by several clips -
each resembling a twisting, golden dragon. His pentagonal
face betrays a smirk. His face betrays a smirk.
Kyle [mocking]: Oh, Wesley... Really, Lynn. You do not
carry yourself at all like you should.
Lynn: What do you know about how I should carry myself.
Kyle: More than you...
Wesley [extending his hand]: Hello, Kyle.
Kyle [grudgingly accepting the handshake]: Hello, Wesley.
Lynn: Will you come to my concert tonight, Wesley? I
really want you to be there.
Wesley: Of course...
Kyle: Now that that's settled, can we go? We're already
late for an interview...
Lynn [pointedly]: I'm already late for an interview,
manager.
Kyle: Right. So are you through gushing over your little
stinging wasp...?
Wesley: What's that supposed to mean?
Kyle: Figure it out, Star Boy...
Glomras: You're contempt, movie star, for Star Fleet is as
preposterous as it is infamous.
Kyle: Coming from a Klingon, I shall take that as a sincere
compliment.
Glomras: This is not a stage. You would not find a real
Klingon quite as easy prey as you would one of your mock
ups.
Kyle [menacing]: Try me...
Glomras: growl...
Lynn: Let's go, now...
Kyle: Go ahead, Star Jock. Try me...
Glomras growls once more, then strikes out ferociously. His
blow is linear and perfectly aimed. No force is lost. It
focuses perfectly on it's target.
Kyle's face.
But even as his hand moves, the actor's body flow with
liquid grace. His palm cups the much larger Klingon fist
delicately. Guiding it. Kyle steps towards his opponent
until their bodies touch. As if performing graceful tango,
Kyle guides the Klingon's hand hand body.
The perfect blow misses by millimeters, but a miss is
nontheless a miss.
Kyle continues to move, bending backward as if being dipped.
Unwillingly, his adversary dips as well. As Kyle rolls to
the floor, his other hand is moving. A well-aimed blow to
the Klingon's arm. As the two hit the floor, the sound of
powerful bones snapping echoes in the corridor.
They roll.
Kyle leaps up, somersaulting in the air several times before
landing, arms angled up, like a diver readying himself for a
dive.
Absolute silence. Glomras contains pain. A crowd gathers.
Lynn moves closer to Wesley.
Lynn: Oh, Wesley. I'm so sorry. Really, I am. If I had
known...
Kyle: Come on, Lynn...
Wesley: Not bad for a pacifist...
Kyle: Those who speak peace must do so with a strong
tongue...
Wesley: Bingo. That's what Star Fleet's all about. Or
hadn't you considered that.
Kyle reflects briefly.
Kyle: Come on, Lynn.
Fearing Wesley may be next, Lynn walks over to Kyle's
outstretched hand. She takes it, and they start to walk
away. She looks back over her shoulder.
Lynn: Please don't hold this against me, Wesley. Please
come to my concert tonight. Please?
Wesley: I will.
A security officer appears. He almost stops the departing
stars. He doesn't. Instead, he walks up to Wesley.
Officer: What happened?
Glomras: I am at fault.
Officer: Oh?
Glomras: Yes. I am also in pain.
Officer: Wasn't Kyle Ming?
Wesley: And his sister.
Officer: Shit. They say his genetic patterns match those
taken from the real Mings - the ancient Emperors of China.
He's authentic through and through, all right...
Glomras: Correct. Authentic enough to have inflicted a
multiple compound fracture to my left arm. Even to a
Klingon, this causes a fair amount of pain. Might I be
taken to a medical facility sometime soon? Like... now?
Meanwhile, in a luxury transport craft, Kyle and Lynn sit
together on a comfortable divan.
Lynn: He was right, and that made you mad, didn't it?
Kyle: Who was right?
Lynn: Wesley. About Star Fleet and strong tongues.
Kyle: From what I'm told, he's always right...
Lynn [coy]: Well, he also has a strong tongue...
Enterprise briefing room.
Picard: Commander Data. Please brief us on your findings.
Data: This vessel conforms to no known design. As to it's
purpose, there can be only one.
Picard: And what is that?
Data: War.
Several nervous glances are exchanged.
Picard: Explain.
Data: The surface of this ship bristles with weaponry.
Some of it quite impressive, Captain. In particular, note
these circular disks along the 'top' and 'bottom' of the
craft: eight along each side, three hundred meters in
diameter.
Picard: Their purpose?
Data: By my analysis, I believe them to be turrets. It is
possible to distinguish three long protrusions - roughly
forty meters wide and two-hundred meters long - in each
disk. I believe these protrusions may be extended...
Picard: Giving the appearance of an ancient battleship...
Data: Yes, Captain.
Riker: A battleship with forty-meter guns?
Data: Yes, Commander. Our scans indicate the casing of
each gun is five meters in thickness, so to be completely
accurate, the caliber of the weapon is thirty meters.
Riker: Well, that makes me feel a lot better, Data.
Worf: Such a weapon would be very immobile. It could not
possibly move with the speed necessary to track any ship in
the Star Fleet armada.
Data: I believe that to be correct. Such a weapon would
most likely be used against other very large vessels, or
perhaps planet-based installations.
Picard: What is the power of these guns?
Data: Difficult to say, Captain. However, I can describe
the power plant...
Picard: How so?
Data: Our scanners are not able to penetrate very far into
the alien craft. However, they were able to detect the
tell-tale radiations of sophisticated anti-matter reactors
perhaps one hundred meters beneath the surface of each disk.
Riker: Of each disk? You mean each turret has it's own
anti-matter reactor?
Data: Yes. The power output of each reactor appears to be
approximately half that of the Enterprise's power output
capability. Similar reactors have been detected beneath the
surface of the craft at irregular intervals throughout the
hull. Presumably, these reactors power the vessels other
weapons batteries. Each reactor appears to power
approximately thirty smaller weapon banks.
Picard: Would the smaller weapons be able to track the
Enterprise?
Data: Almost certainly, Captain. But their potential for
devastation is much less than the large turrets...
Riker: Obviously, Data...
Data: And the larger turrets would appear not to be the
most devastating weapon available to this craft.
Picard: Explain.
Data: I believe this circular cavity at the front of the
vessel - nearly five hundred meters in diamter - is the
surface sympton of a huge, spinal weapon.
Worf: A spinal weapon would only be able to fire in the
same direction the ship was pointing... It's only practical
application would be against nearly immobile targets.
Data: Almost certainly, this weapon is intended for use
against planets.
Riker: What could possibly power such a weapon?
Data: I do not know, Commander. All of the anti-matter
reactors combined could potential power a considerable
blast, but I think that not likely to be the true power
source. We have not yet detected any means of propulsion,
yet obviously such means must exist. I think it likely some
for of power plant - as yet undetected - exists deep within
the craft. That is all I have to report at this time.
Picard: Very good, Data. Worf?
Worf: The vessels has ignored all of our attempts at
communication. Our scans have not altered it's apparent
indifference to our pressence. We ourselves have been
scanned nummerous times, with the majority of readings
indicating scans concentrated on enginnering levels...
Riker: Feeling us out?
Picard: Quite possibly, Number One.
Worf: Sensors indicate life forms exist, at least in those
sections of the vessel we are able to penetrate. No
shielding has been detected...
Riker: So we could send an away team?
Worf: The thickness and density of the alien's outer hull
would make use of the transporter... dangerous, but not
impossible.
Picard: Well, we certainly don't want to go snooping around
until we have more information...
A member of the bridge crew interrupts via communicator.
Crew man: Sorry to interrupt, Captain. But the alien craft
has generated a warp field.
After several startled glances, the meeting adjourns rapidly
to the bridge.
Picard quickly takes his seat as the others move to their
stations.
Data: The alien has, indeed, projected a warp field.
However, we are unable to detect any signs of increased
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
amount of bio-relation energy. To do this, he needs a world with a very
advanced biosphere and some special harmony with the bio-relation pool.
Such worlds are very, very rare, Captain. Poseidal's homeworld -
Gustogol - was, and is, the most harmonic of worlds that has ever been
found. But these world of yours - it will do.
Riker: Do?
Atrophos: Yes. It can generate the requisite energy. Very few can
control such power. Perhaps only Poseidal and Clotho. Lachesis could,
but she is gone... Perhaps I could - but I would never try. There are
no others.
Riker: And after the energy was generated?
Atrophos: Much of it would be consumed powering the Transference
between galaxies. The resulting shock would devastate your world. It
would not be destroyed - not like the worlds attacked by the Zentradi -
but the shock would kill many, many beings. Clotho means to prevent
that.
Worf: Perhaps we should help her.
Atrophos: That would not be wise. The Mirage Knights would destroy
your world as surely as the Zentradi in retribution.
Picard: Well, at least we can root her on...
Onscreen, the battle continues. Atrophos sinks into herself, not
watching.
Atrophos [silent thoughts]: Oh, Sister! Can you hear me? Lachesis!
Please, you must help me! What am I to do?
A vision appears on the screen. It is obvious only Atrophos sees it.
It is of a beautiful woman. Tall and regal. Her hair is long and
lavender, like Poseidal. Her eyes, like his, are one gold, one blue. A
diadem hangs on her forhead.
Atrophos: Lachesis! You heard!
Lachesis: Of course, dearest sister. Of course.
Atrophos: I'm so afraid...
Lachesis: I understand, dear sister. But I cannot give you the answer.
Atrophos: You must! Oh, Lachesis, please! Please help me!
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.
Atrophos is silent for a long while. The image of Lachesis fades.
Behind, the battle rages. The Knight of Gold crouches, the Junchoon
holds a more aggressive stance. Slowly, the Knight of Gold extends an
arm, opening the fingers. The scyth slowly disolves.
The Junchoon charges.
Atrophos [crying]: I see...
The Knight of Gold reaches up with it's hand.
Atrophos [crying harder]: I see! I see!
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.
The Knight of Gold releases the arm. Slowly, the scythe reappears.
Atrophos [whisper]: Knight of Gold...
The Knight of Gold turns towards the still tumbling Junchoon.
Atrophos [whisper]: Knight of Gold, it's Atrophos...
The Junchoon stops tumbling. It rights itself and readies it's glowing
sword. The Knight of Gold slowly advances.
Atrophos: Knight of Gold, hear me. Please. Hear me. This is what we
must do...
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.
Poseidal: Atrophos... Dear Atrophos, at last, you do as you were made
to do...
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.
Atrophos [telepathic]: Sister, this is what you must do.
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.
Worf: Captain, the Grand Adas is gone.
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.
The End