By Mike Tripp

—

Scene: Battle Bridge, U.S.S. Dante
Stardate: 240513.1840 (aka. May 13, 2409)

“They went for it!”

Lt. Sean Dalmore punched the arm of the command chair in childish delight. The Borg had taken the bait and extended their shields around the doomed saucer section.

An alarm sounded from the tactical station currently manned by Suzanne – a Yeoman who was the only other person on the battle bridge besides Sean and Allen.

“Sir, sensors are detecting intruders!”

From the helm, Allen called up the proper readings before continuing.

“It seems Dante’s science officer created a special program to detect the subspace wave used by the Borg that lets remaining drones remain in constant contact with each other. That program is currently detecting 61… correction 64 Borg in and around engineering. “

The Dante’s makeshift Captain, Sean, laced his fingers together in front of him with his elbows resting on the chair’s arms as he tried to sort his way through it all.

“Do you see any signs of anything the former crew may have developed to counter a boarding party?”

Before Sollace could answer, a warp conduit opened, swallowing the LaForge-Cube with its intended prey still gripped tightly behind its shields. The Saucer went critical as a tremendous beam of white energy shot out across space, narrowly missing the Dante stardrive as the Borg Cube appeared to be vaporized.

—
Scene: Main Bridge, U.S.S. Nelson

<>

Dustin MacLeod stood behind the tactical station, a place he hadn’t been in years but felt as comfortable there as trying on an old pair of shoes.

He quickly pulled up Borg tactics as well as his old, pre-programmed weapons combinations.

J.B., the assistant chief security officer on duty, stood to the right on internal security and sensors, bowing to the XO’s superior tactical experience with the Borg.

The phaser blasts did not penetrate the Borg ship’s shields, of course.

Then the Dante began to fire upon the saucer section.

Seconds later, the Borg shield was extended around the saucer section, and the two ships began to move off together. The Dante turned away from the retreating ships as they began to go transwarp again, but simply coasting away under maneuvering thrusters.

The combined Borg- Dante Saucer began to disappear into the non-space of transwarp. When they were about halfway through, the saucer glowed white as her engines overloaded, and a tremendous beam of white energy shot out across space, narrowly missing what was left of the Dante and completely vaporizing the Borg cube.

Even at this distance, the Nelson shook violently in the shockwave.

What happened next was nothing short of spectacular.

When the afterimages faded from the crew’s eyes, there stood a wormhole in place of the saucer and Borg Cube. Bright oranges, reds, and deep blues swirled as a hole opened.

Immediately, J.B. called out, “Scanning… There is no signature from the other side that indicates a destination. The Borg ship and the Dante’s saucer section are gone.”

“Captain, I can’t predict its stability, but I do know that the Borg ship is on the other end and is severely damaged,” he continued.

The stardrive section seemed to be running out of luck, too.

One of about a dozen tendrils snaked out of the wormhole, crossing the Dante’s nacelles and pulling the abbreviated ship inside. Then the wormhole disappeared.

MacLeod looked down at his Captain, his expression grave.

“Captain, I picked up numerous transporter signals throughout the stardrive section during that battle and based on our scans, it is possible that over two hundred Borg are currently on board the USS Dante.

Tracey stood up and approached the viewscreen…her people were on that ship and they could be clueless that they had been boarded.

Even if they knew, there was little they could do….even if they had known where they had gone.

Dustin ran back to the Science Station and drew up a map of the Dante.

“I counted well over sixty in Main Engineering,” he exclaimed. “They’re going to take the ship from there and then work their way to the Battle Bridge!”

Captain Mills couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed at all the curve balls she’d been thrown.

—
Scene: Battle Bridge, U.S.S. Dante

Sollace fought with the controls as the wave passed over the ship, rocking it violently in its wake. A Wormhole appeared opening in all its brightly swirling colors. … Its tendrils snaked outward crossing the Dante’s nacelles, pulling the abbreviated ship inside.

Then the wormhole disappeared.

Passage through the wormhole was bumpy at best, lasting for barely more than two minutes, but seeming more like an eternity.

Then, she was through.

The Dante appeared on the other side not much the worse for wear, keeping in mind of course that it was only the stardrive section.

Nearby, drifted the shattered remains of the Borg Cube.

Sean lifted himself from the floor as was Allen.

Behind him, he noted Suzanne laying stretched out on the deck in a crumpled form. Moving toward her, his hand reached toward her neck…..Thankful when he felt a strong pulse.

Breathing a deep sigh, he turned to the FCO. “Report.”

“We’ve made it through the wormhole in something close to one piece. The wormhole has already closed, and the Borg Cube is drifting derelict 3,000 meters off the port bow,” Sollace reported.

Then he smiled briefly.

“It looks like there’s not much left of it. Sensors detect … about four or five life signs. And I don’t think the ship can be salvaged.”

Sean breathed another sigh of relief.

‘Well, that was one down,’ he thought to himself.

“What of the Borg currently on board?” he then spoke aloud.

“Sensors detect a total of 115 crawling around in the lower decks….and it looks like that number may be growing. They’re assimilating the crew as they go.”

“Did the former crew develop any sort of contingency plan?”

After reading through the files, Sollace’s smile grew as he read.

“Yes, sir! I don’t understand it all, but the program tracks down each individual Borg via their subspace wave. It can also disrupt and block that signal as well as achieve a transporter lock from it. The system is programmed to automatically lock on and beam them to whatever coordinates we state. It’ll continue until all boarders have been repelled.”

“Seems they just didn’t have the time left to initiate it,” he added.

The CSO smiled warmly. It seemed luck was with them.

“Mr. Sollace, set coordinates for 2,000 meters off the starboard bow and stand-by to initiate program on my mark. … MARK!”

With the sequence keyed, all the Dante’s remaining active transporters powered up as they sprang to life. Borg began materializing into empty space beyond the ship.

After ten minutes, they were safe again.

Sollace checked his readings.

“I read only 37 lifeforms remaining onboard including us.”

“Only thirty-seven out of this ship’s former full crew complement?” Sean asked, the shocked sorrow registering in his voice.

‘So much for saving the Dante and her crew,’ Sean thought to himself. ‘To think of all that had lost their lives in this.’

Pushing back those ugly thoughts, Sean had to think about the living.

“Where are we?”

“Checking sensors now,” Allen called out from flight control. … “Well THAT can’t be right.”

He re-tapped the commands back into the console a second and third time before speaking again.

“Readings show us just outside the Corvaenuz System,” he said finally, “but the stars are off slightly.”

“What do you mean … off?” Sean asked.

“Location is confirmed but……”

The young officer’s facial expressions twisted into a rather puzzled and mystified expression as his voice trailed off.

“What can’t be right, Ensign?” Sean prodded.

“Sir, our location is indeed the Corvaunis System, but …” he paused again, but only for a few seconds … “The time is off.”

“Off in what way, Ensign?” the acting captain prodded, again awaiting the answer.

“If these readings are correct … It says the year is no longer 2409,” he answered, swiveling in his chair to look his friend in the eye.

“Calculated by star positions, computer says the year is ….”

“… 2370,” a new voice on the battle bridge finished quite calmly.

“You have … yes … traveled 39 years back into what would be considered your past,” it continued.

All eyes swiveled to see who the hell had spoken, all rising (if seated) and bringing phasers to bear.

It was Sean as acting captain who spoke, however.

“And who the HELL are you? … Q ????”

“No, I’m not the entity referred to as ‘Q’,” he answered with a shake of his head.

“I’m Daniels … a temporal agent from the 32nd century, dispatched to investigate your sudden appearance within this timeline.”

Before anyone could breathe another word, Daniel’s touched a device attached to his forearm and immediately all present found themselves no longer aboard the scarred battle bridge of the Dante, but somewhere else entirely.

“Welcome to my temporal observatory,” the agent answered quickly before the question could be asked.

Sean asked the next logical question.

“You say you are from the 32nd century and we …. We have been transported back to 2370?”

“And what the hell is a temporal observatory?” Sollace blurted out.

Daniels raised a hand to cease questions before drawing in a long, deep breath.

“From what we have been able to gather, the Borg cube attempted opening a transwarp conduit looking to drag the Dante in with it. … Only the attempt resulted in a wormhole, slicing across time and reality to land you here in 2370 … as well as an alternate.”

“Wait, wait, wait … Not just into the past but realities???” Sollace exclaimed.

Sean placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder before stepping forward, as the original leader of the rescue team from the U.S.S. Nelson … and as formerly acting captain of the Dante, he represented both the Nelson team and the Dante survivors.

“So, YOU are saying that WE are no longer in 2409 … but 2370 … AND not even still in our own universe?” he asked trying to wrap his head it all.

“Exactly,” Daniels confirmed.

“That wormhole cut through the fabric of your universe and into one of the adjacent realities … not too dissimilar from your own … but definitely different.”

“Different in what way?” Sean asked, trying to stay up with the conversation even as his mind reeled from the idea of it all.

“There are slight bits of history … small things,” the agent swept his arm around the observatory and towards the timeline that encircled them all, “that differ enough that as history continues to expand forward … it will result and shape itself into a completely different timeline than the one you know.”

“Ok,” Sean said, finally finding his mental feet again. “Then send us back.”

Daniel’s shook his head.

“An impossibility,” Daniels answered quickly.

“Sadly, there is no going back for any of you … THIS … is your new home,” he continued.

“Why?” Sollace asked. “You are from the 32nd century. And from the look of this place, you surely have the technology. … Send us back.”

“We cannot because you are already still there.”

Daniel’s expression turned sad for them, mixed with understanding of how they must be feeling.

“As impossible as any of this sounds …,” and again he turned toward a floating timeline, calling up a visual representation as he spoke.

“… The you still aboard the Dante of yet a third reality was also sucked by the borg into the same type wormhole, only it cut from their universe into yours and only transported them backwards in time a few hours.”

“They warned Capt. Mills and the Nelson of what events were about to happen so those events could be altered and changed … as is correct for that reality’s timeline,” Daniels added.

Sean looked as if he was about to vomit.

“So, you are saying we still exist there … and yet we are here … at the same time?”

“What happens to us?” Allen Sollace added the question.

“This is where you are meant to exist now … Yes,” Daniels answered. “This is where you are meant to remain.”

“Our families … friends … our lives?” Sollace asked.

“You are where you need to be, and this reality’s events will unfold as they need to because of it.”

The temporal agent paused a moment before adding … “I am sorry about the loss of your family and friends … but those aren’t your lives any longer.”

Sean was still trying to wrap his mind around it all.

“But by being here, we’re altering this reality’s history,” he stated not so much as a question, but a fact.

“And yet that is what is needed for this universe’s timeline to unfold as is necessary,” Daniels answered with conviction in his voice.

“What happens to us?” Sollace asked.

Daniel’s waved his hand across the displayed timeline, sending it back as threads within the larger master line.

“We will help each of you in creating new lives, integrating you into this time, this place.”

“And we are to just ignore the fact that we know how history is going to unfold?” Sean asked.

Daniels shook his head. “You forget that I said this timeline unfolds differently from you own, in fact … the planet Rom …”

He paused as if catching himself before changing verbal tracks.

“… Let’s just say history here will unfold different from what you originally knew to the point that when you reach 2409 again … It will be completely different.”

“No,” Sollace said, crossing his arms stubbornly.

“No … Send us back. Family … friends … our lives are back there,” he continued. “Send us back now!”

Daniels’ shook his head but still smiled a thin smile.

“No … we cannot. … BUT I do now see why you end up becoming the ship’s cap … the person you are meant to be.”

Scene: Main Bridge, U.S.S. Fenrir
Stardate: 240513.1840 (aka. May 13, 2409)

Those on Earth knew the date as May 13, 2409 … a date burned deep into the soul of Capt. Rutlh’ven.

Looking out over the bridge of his command … the U.S.S. Fenrir, NCC-185377, Allen saw not the crew but instead the events of 32 years prior.

It was on this date the U.S.S. Nelson answered the distress call of the U.S.S. Dante and dispatched a rescue team over to a ship whose crew had already been assimilated by an attacking Borg cube.

Was on this date that rescue team had assumed control of the Dante via the battle bridge and were swept into a wormhole created by said Borg cube’s failed attempt to open a stable transwarp corridor.

Thus, sweeping the surviving members of the team 39 years into the past … and into an alternate timeline.

No way of returning, young Ens. Allen Narross Sollace was forced to change his name (well, last name at least) and assimilate into that time, that place.

Thanks to the workings of temporal agent Daniels, he and others of the team were able to remain in Starfleet … beginning their new march through the years of history … including one Dominion War.

And now Allen Sollace … Allen Rutlh’ven … had reached the date he’d last left in another reality whose timeline completely differed from the one he’d been forced to live just to reach the same date once more.

He’d helped establish a new colony, fought the Dominion War, worked his way up through the ranks of Starfleet and even assisted with saving lives of refuges from the supernova that claimed the Romulan homeworld and several of its colonies.

Just one of the many events different from what he’d learned in school as a child.

Daniel’s had let slip that Allen would go on to become a ship’s captain and that came to pass a few years back.

Stroking the arm of his command chair, he took pride in Fenris and her crew.

With a few final thoughts of his wife, children and grandkids … Capt. Rutlh’ven noted that although the transition had been hard … leaving behind all they’d lost …, he was pleased with the way life had worked out.

He also made a note to contact Sean Dalmore … also now a Rutlh’ven … on this day of all days and share a drink with his friend who was out there commanding a ship of his own as well.

The survivors of their original rescue team (being few in number) each agreed to adopt and share the family name “Rutlh’ven while also helping establish a new colony where they’d all call home.”

They’d come to consider themselves one family … bound by ties beyond those of blood.

And that family had grown a bit larger over the years since.

A thought that left Allen smiling as he turned back towards the bridge and mission before them.

He definitely needed to remember to call his brother later on for that shared drink.

—

Out of Story: The above begins by revisiting a story written back in the 1990s from the play-by-email RPG group U.S.S. Nelson within the overall Trek universe of alt.starfleet.rpg (a newsnet group at that time).

Allen Sollace was my very first character and through this, I took the version of him that went through the wormhole and showed where he actually ended up … as the version that went back and warned the Nelson was indeed … from another reality even back then (to explain his the twin self remained and became one Ross MacBride … whose story will also continue within this STO verse, but more on that story at a later date.

Respectfully,

Capt. Allen Rutlh’ven
CO, U.S.S. Fenrir

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Captain’s Log — U.S.S. Excalibur, NCC-87500

SD: 2024-1022.2215

It’s time to get this frakking show on the road.

Under my command, this Lamarr-class explorer has been our in space for the past seven months, but we have yet to conduct one single mission of exploration (or even diplomacy) beyond the scanning of whatever is within sensor range as we pass through the space in which we travel.

A lot of that I admit comes from my work within Alliance Central Command’s Malstrom Expeditionary Force, *BUT* when I accepted this role, it was understood that I would be a flag officer leading from the front lines.

Instead, we’ve spent the last many months ferrying crew and supplies to the various starbases, space stations and outposts within and surrounding the Malstrom Expanse.

And that has been a LOT of personnel that have boarded and disembarked this ship during that time.

But as a moment of pride, we can state that Hell’s Keep has been fully manned and in the process of a complete refit.

And Starbase Hatteras is also fully manned and operational with work underway to upgrade the starbase to its next and final form which will include full spacedock facilities.

This is not to say that we have no had a bit of adventure, however, and not all of it good.

Last week, we received an emergency distress call from a Klingon colony on Narvek IV with the contact itself sparse on details.

When we arrived, we found the outpost abandoned of all people.

There were signs of fire fight and battle, yet no bodies … of either attackers or those attacked.

Once the last of the supplies are dropped off at Kollaris Prime, we plan to return to the Narvek system to check in with the teams we left there and join them once again in the investigation and hunt to discover the fate of the colonists.

— Flt Adm. Hauk’

CO, U.S.S. Excalibur

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He once had a family .. a family of some note before the loss of the homeworld, yet he’d been pushed out by that time.

He also loved science in a family that for generations had served the military.

At a young age, Adalma attended the Romulan Imperial Academy, becoming an officer in the imperial navy after graduating.

Science was a gift that always came naturally to him, but so was the art of combat tactics.

The latter is the one embraced by both family and the Empire and thus the mold he found himself unhappily crammed into.

At least until a console exploded in his face, damaging eyes and optical nerves to the point of being legally blind — his sight too blurry to perform his duties.

It spelled the end of his career in the Imperial Navy as the Romulans considered him les than a man because of it.

As did his family for that matter.

With a long naval tradition, they held his loss of sight against him, making life miserable.

When the evacuations began, his family refused to accept Federation aid or assistance.

Adalma saw it as his ticket out of an extremely bad situation.

Sneaking onto an evacuation ship, he fled ffrom family and the coming horror the supernova represented.

And it was in the Federation that strangers not only took him in … but restored his sight with special glasses.

He surprised himself when he found after this that he actually wanted to get back out into space, but this time studying its mysteries as a science officer.

So, he applied to Starfleet Academy and was fast tracked into the fleet upon his acceptance.

Within two years, he had his own command and now commands the experimental Glenn-class science spearhead cruiser named U.S.S. Raegal.

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Daenerys … no family, no last name.

At least at the beginning of her tale.

The half Orion, half Romulan orphan was born in the darkness of slave pits owned by an Orion Syndicate warlord.

Her mother died in childbirth. Her father most likely someone who took advantage of her.

Ask Daenerys the name of either, and she will say simply she never knew them … only that her name was shared from that of her mother, also Daenerys.

She did often dream of her mother, wondering if any of the features of her own reflection might be a shadowy reflection of her.

But there were none in the slave pits where she was born and raised who could tell her anything beyond her mother’s name.

Also she knew is that they as she was growing up, everyone referred to her as “little Daenerys” … aka. short for the fact she was the young daughter of a Romulan slave with that name … Daenerys.

There are rumors she may have half-sisters out in the universe somewhere, but so far … no clues.

Genetic testing is an option that might help, but Daenerys has refused such for fear it might lead her to her birth father … who she would rather believe dead and unknown.

If her mother was Romulan, that would mean he Orion … and likely not a slave but one who took advantage of her mother at some point.

Just as others took advantage of her before her liberation by Starfleet — Capt. Agnarr Krog and the crew of the U.S.S. Valkyrie to be exact.

She still remembers quite clearly the moment freedom came to her.

It was marked at first by sounds of phaser and disruptor fire followed by bright flashes of grenades.

Tasked with finding and “dismantling” the arm of the Orion Syndicate operating within that sector, the Valkyrie had tracked the Syndicate to a network of asteroid bases operating within the Kaldrii system and set to the task of neutralizing said network and brining the ringleaders to Federation justice.

Delarys can quite clearly still see the hand of Capt. Krog reaching down to help her to her feet.

That simple act … climbing to her feet … in that moment represented climbing out of that hellhole and onto a much better life track,

It took time for Daenerys to recover from the trauma of her past life, but she did it.

And after a time, she not only recovered but found she wanted to relish in her freedom by exploring the stars and herself become a Starfleet officer.

Capt. Krog sponsored her application to Starfleet Academy, and on when registering … Delarys gave a lot of thought about how she wanted her name to be listed.

She chose to add to her name the last name of Valkyrie … in honor of those who saved her.

As for the rest of her story, it remains a work in progress.

—-

Author Note — Daenerys actually is actually a rebranding of a character I’ve had in game for a while now. It was a character I realized I never played and whom just didn’t speak to me any longer. So I decided to update the character’s appearance from human to Orion/Romulan with a completely different backstory.

The post From slave to ship’s captain appeared first on The Malstrom Expanse.

Scene: In the Darkness — Starship interior
Location: Surplus Depot LT68
—
First there was darkness.

Then came the light … swirling lights that brought with it humanoid forms, followed again by darkness.

“Admiral, I still don’t think you should be doing this,” came a voice in the dark.

“Jeffery … shut up. Starfleet admirals do what they damn well please,” said another.

“How about you both SHUTUP and let us do out work,” growled the Klingon engineer.

He held a specialized engineering tricorder in one hand and a tool kit in the other and a bag of assorted goodies on his back.

Jeffery had also noted the two … the Starfleet admiral and the Klingon engineer that is … looked an awful lot alike.

The Klingon in the lead simply grunted as he snacked the flashlight in his hand several times, giving it several good shakes to make the faulty device finally activate.

Hauk’ ignored the two salvage yard attendants and began his exploration of the shattered hull.

One of the few great things about being a fleet admiral, as far as Hauk’ was concerned, is that by the very basic definition of that title … one oftentimes had a fleet at their command.

And Hauk’ was putting together his “fleet.”

With the Iconian wars in the rear view and the Terrans plus Borg on the slow burn, Hauk’ could get back to rebuilding the number of ships at his disposal.

Only problem is that the number of active starships available or even those under construction was … limited.
So, out of the box thinking (more common actually since the Iconian War) brought he and his twin brother (born of different realities) here.

“I tell you these salvage yards are latnium mines,” said engineering Hauk. “IF you know where to look.”

“And right now, you’ve got exploring the underslung hull of a shattered Duderstadt-class, all that remains of the U.S.S. Red Wolf,” retorted Fleet Admiral Hauk’.

“Yes … one of the ships shattered during the Frontier Day Borg assault on Earth,” the Klingon engineer / ship designer Hauk returned.

“Many ships like this one that were damaged in that assault were committed to the dark even though they still had a lot of fight left in them.”

“And this one isn’t even a ship,” Hauk’ spit out. “Not any more at any rate,” he added sadly, his eyes scanning what remained of former ship’s main engineering.

“And what better way to help them regain their honor than to see those we can save restored to life!” Hauk exclaimed, sweeping his tricorder across the space.

“There.” Hauk’ pointed to the console they wanted.

“And you know as well as I that this ship isn’t going anywhere. Her time’s done. Don’t care how sad a history she might have. Redemption just isn’t in the cards for her.”

“Strange that I should even have to dignify that with a response,” noted Hauk as he headed for the indicated master engineering console.

He shrugged off his pack and pulled out the portable generator, plugging it into the port on the console.

Life flowed back into console after years of quiet.

Only then did he take the larger design padd he’d had tucked in his backpack and set it on top the glowing tabletop console.

“Look here … This ship has an interact secondary hull while the Eagle has most of the front section of a primary hull and what little is needed on the backside we can get from the Albion,” he explained.

Jeffery the yard technician looked over the Klingon’s shoulder curiously.

“And I know there’s a set of intact pylons and nacelles over on what little remains of the … What the hell is that ship’s name.”

He looked over to his partner, Mark.

“You know the one …over in section D-937.”

“The Hiryu,” answered Mark. “Sad what happened to her crew. … God rest their souls.”

“And you want to stitch these pieces together to Frankenstein a ship?” Hauk’ asked stepping close into the circle of the console’s light.

“Frankenstein?!?!” Hauk scoffed.

“We’re talking ships all of the same class met an all too soon end,” he continued.

“When we’re done, you’ll have a solid UPGRADED Duderstadt-class starship forged from the shards of those that came before her … ship’s lost but whose legacies deserve more.

The Admiral still wasn’t quite sold on the plan.

“But a Duderstadt?”

“These ships mix science with weapons.”

The Klingon warrior turned ship design engineer’s fingers dancing across the console as he answered.

“And if you’re going into that soup the humans call the Malstrom Expanse, you’ll need science to cut through it and weapons to meet the … challenges … in there.”

“And when you mix the two together, those weapons cut a whole lot deeper when needed.”

Hauk didn’t answer as his eyes looked around in thought, seeing what he could see in the dim circle of light cast by the master systems engineering console.

Finally, he looked back towards the two yard hands.

“We’ll take it. … Them … Whatever, but we’ll take them”

“Admiral, that’s now how it works,” said Jeffery.

Hauk reached into a pocket built into his pants’ leg and pulled out the mini-padd he always carried.

With a flick of his fingers, he transmitted the “blank check” authorization he’d been given by Commander-in-Chief Fleet Admiral Jorel Quinn himself.

“It is today.”

Time: Six months later

“I’m staring at a massive hole in the hull of the Andúril where the frakking secondary deflector is supposed to be,” Hauk’ growled. “Where the frakk is it?”

[“Admiral, you should have it by …”]

“DON’T YOU DARE SAY TUESDAY OR I SWEAR BY GRETHORS FLAMES I WILL REACH THROUGH THIS OPEN CHANNEL AND RIP YOU DAMNED HEART OUT!”

The Klingon caught himself, took a deep breathe, held it a second and then released it … calming himself.

“We’ve been trying to get this deflector for five months and for five months I’ve heard the same damned thing … ‘Next Tuesday. … Next Tuesday’ … And I’m frakking tired of hearing it.”

“So, I’m going to tell you what we are going to do,” Hauk’ instructed.

“Right now, the I.K.S. Qu’In ‘an bortaS has docked at one of the lower cargo ports of your station,” he continued.

Hauk’ hated people that wrapped the supply chain with bureaucracy and politics.

“You are going to take that secondary deflector …the Strategic Deteriorating with the EPG modifiers … and put it on that ship which will bring it straight to us.”

Beside him, his counterpart twin gave him a nudge, pointing at something on the padd he held.

“And for the time and headache you’ve caused, you’re going to also hand over one of those Mark XV Exotic Particle Field Exciters with the EPG enhancements as well.”

The science engineering division quartermaster tried to speak, but Hauk cut him off before cutting him off at the knees.

“Or …,” the fleet admiral stepped forward for added effect.

“I’m going to expose your little supply black market money scheme you’ve got going on. … Do I make myself clear, Captain?”

Expressions of the man on screen shifted through a rainbow of emotions … surprise, anger, horror and finally fear.

Hauk’ wasn’t the only fleet admiral or shipyard, etc., out there trying to rebuild.

So, he took a wild swing and a bluff that this man was using that to his advantage and profiting by re-routing equipment according to whoever happened to be the highest bidder.

[“Crystal, Admiral. … I’m placing the orders now.”]

“Now, let’s talk about what’s needed for the Dracarys …”

Time: One month after

The upgraded Duderstadt-class starship named U.S.S. Andúril, aka. “Flame of the Federation” … forged from the shards of shattered starships that came before, flew in formation with the Nordlys and Arkenstone along with Chekov-class variants Balerian, Dracarys, and Syrax.

The Constitution III-class U.S.S. Beowulf led the way but pulled up and to the side before taking position above the ships below.

[“This is Fleet Admiral Hauk aboard the Andúril … Let’s do this.”]

And with that, Hauk’ led part of his fleet into the soup of the Malstrom Expanse before some other galactic calamity could pull them away.

[“This is the Beowulf. … We’ll guard your six, Admiral.”]

“I expect no less, Beowulf, and I’ll be back before you know it.”

Respectfully,

~ Hauk — Pathfinder

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Scene: Cockpit, Valkyrie-class Fighter
Location: Argon Cluster – Malstrom Expanse

Time: 2410

—

“Gold One to North Carolina actual. … Still not sure if we’re dealing with another sensor ghost or the real thing.”

Agnes’ fingers slipped across the controls along the right side of her console, trying to finetune the readings being fed directly to her head’s-up display.

The Valkyrie fighter cut through space.

The other fighters held their positions in relation to her craft, the squadron responding to sensor pings coming from relay stations out in the soup of Hell’s Gate.

The soup was the soup … the nebula clouds swirling thick and chaotic outside of the Argon cluster — a cluster of eight stars dancing in concert within their small pocket of the universe.

[“Gold One, North Carolina actual. Hang tight. Should be clearing within the next few.”]

It always could be nothing. Yet, it also always could be something.

The one time they figured it all to be nothing, pirates descended catching them flatfooted and out of position.

Now that had been a hot mess that could have cost them more than it had, but then again … it had cost them dear enough.

No longer.  Not since that day.

[“Gold Squadron … Hold course, stay sharp.”]

There was nothing to do for the next few moments but wait and keep eyes sharp.

[“So, Wayfinder. You up for some poker when we get back to the shed?”]

“Cut the chatter, Gold Five. Eyes sharp, remember. Besides, you’ve lost a enough latinum this week.”

[“Which is why I need to win some of it back.”]

“The chatter, Gold Five.”

[“Acknowledged, Gold Leader. Staying eagle-eyed.”]

A few more minutes passed and then the shadows of the soup took form.

“North Carolina … Contact bearing 23!”

[“North Carolina Actual … What have you got?”]

It was several more seconds before Agnes could even begin to make out a shape.

“North Carolina Actual … We are looking at a heavy cruiser with escorts. … Too much interference for a positive ID.  Kicking in the burn for a visual.”

She switched frequencies.

“Gold Leader to Gold Flight … Form up and lets kick in the afterburners. Maintain alert status one and stay sharp.”

The Valkyrie fighters as one kicked their engines up several notches.

Distance shrank away as they closed in on their target, which altered course for a less threatening approach.

[“Approaching fighters. This is Capt. Colarahn Krog in command of the U.S.S. Shrykos of Starfleet’s Malstrom Expeditionary Force,”] a male voice stated.

[“We recognize your craft as Federation but to our knowledge, we have no records of one of our ships out this far as this part of the expanse remains unexplored,”] the person continued. [“Please acknowledge.”]

“Well, Capt. Krog … We have a problem as *I* am Capt. Colarahn Krog,” she stated coldly.

She and their fighters maintained course and alert status with weapons still hot.

They would NOT be caught flatfooted again.

 —

The bridge of the U.S.S. Shrykos was a flurry of activity as officers went about their duties, well aware that a flight of what appeared to be Valkyrie fighters was bearing down on them.

And normally where one found such fighters, there was sure to be ships and/or a base nearby.

Capt. Colarahn Krog was captain of the Andromeda / Ross hybrid explorer exiting the soup of the Malstrom Nebula and entering one of the several star systems within this pocket of space.

He gripped the arms of his command chair, keeping his full attention on the holographic status display hovering in from of him.

“We recognize your craft as Federation but to our knowledge, we have no records of one of our ships out this far as this part of the expanse remains unexplored,” he stated to the open channel. “Please acknowledge.”

[“Well, Capt. Krog … We have a problem as *I* am Capt. Colarahn Krog,”] the feminine voice on the other end returned rather coolly.

THAT was something unexpected, but then so were what looked like Starfleet fighters flying in formation this deep in an unexplored part of the soup.

 “I have to say you’ve now got my attention,” Krog said.

He decided to dispense with formalities and standard protocol.

“I have to admit I didn’t know another Colarahn Krog had graduated the Academy in recent years,” he continued, rising from his chair still speaking.

“I myself am of the class of 2389.”

Instinct was starting to tell him there was more to this story than first appearances.

[“Funny thing that,”] the female voice returned, just a bit harder … more guarded. [“So am I and I don’t remember seeing you around campus.”]

Krog closed his eyes, listened.

The cadence and voice were his own … IF he’d been born female.

Such things might seem impossible except when considering the multi-verse theory.

Then there was the fact of Malstrom command itself as two of his own commanding officers were both named Hauk. 

Two Klingons born the same, but in different universes and shaped products of those verses.

Now, the Klingon Hauk (the Starfleet one, not the KDF one) from another such reality / universe had claimed (with supporting evidence) that his reality had ceased to exist in that something happened there of such scale and scope that it no longer exists.

Yet, here that version of Hauk was as well as his god-daughter … another Klingon now serving in this Starfleet, named Bahni’qin.

It was considered proof that elements of that reality could well have fallen intact into this one.

And if that all considered fact, who is to say that in this other universe he might well have been born female.

“Flight leader, I have a story to tell that might seem a bit farfetched, yet I assure you is very much real.”

“Is it possible to arrange a meeting with someone from your command structure?” he asked.

—

Sometime later, the Starfleet presence within the Argon star cluster dispatched a recon destroyed, named U.S.S. Sam Houston, to serve as a safe place for the meeting to take place.

The U.S.S. North Carolina was holding distance to one side as the U.S.S. Shrykos was on the opposite.

Now, the untrained eye of his reality would have considered the Houston of the Lafeyette-class … a class of New Orleans-class lineage.

But Krog could see the subtle differences that marked this one as NOT Lafeyette.

The ship’s commanding officer, one Capt. Allen Narross Sollace, greeted him in the transporter room and led the way to the Conference room where the meeting was to take place.

Fun that, this man looked half Scottish-human / half Bajoran.

Krog himself knew a Capt. Alan Rhys Sollace, but he was half Scottish human / half Efrosian.

In the conference room waited a Starfleet Vice-Admiral … one Shallana Carrick.

She looked near identical to another officer he’d served with and considered friend … a captain named Atsila Shallana Maitland.

“Vice-Admiral, I think we’ve got a lot to talk about,” Krog began after they’d taken their seats.

“And I’ve a message from someone you likely know … Fleet Admiral Hauk,” he continued.

He slid a pad across the table to the Vice-Admiral who spun the padd  around and pressed play.

[“Hello, Shallana, it’s been a while,”] spoke the Starfleet Klingon.

[“You have no  idea how glad I am to see you and those with you. And I assure you that what I’m about to tell you is all true and I can prove it.”]

Krog had had time to confer with Hauk’ before this meeting, a bit startled that the Klingon knew personally all the players sitting around this very table … having served with each in what was now a past life being revisited.

Shallana leaned back in her chair listening as did Sollace beside her … their faces darkening with growing lines of sadness as they took in the story being told to them … the story of the fate of the universe they’d left behind.

It was gone … all of it.

Well, with the exception it seemed of what little seemed to have made it to this new reality which apparently was to be their new home.

~ Hauk — Pathfinder

The post “Past Realities Revisited” appeared first on The Malstrom Expanse.

“I am Thorin ir-Perth tr’Ruth’ven of the Clan Ruth’ven.”

Thorin ir-Perth tr’Ruth’ven is a man of Scottish descent (¾ human / ¼ Romulan) who happens to be a starship captain in the service of Starfleet.

That’s in addition to serving as patriarch of the mixed Scottish-Romulan clan … Clan Ruth’ven.
It’s a clan traces its origins back to the Ruthven clan of ancient Scotland on Earth.

Thor, son of Sweyn the Viking chief, was the founder of the Ruthven clan, which takes its name from the lands north of Loch Rannoch in Perthshire. In Gaelic these lands are called Ruadhainn.

The Ruthven family history reads like a saga worthy of their Viking origins, with both good and bad points in its history …. stories for another day.

The Ruth’ven clan became an offshoot of Ruthven thanks to settlers from the island Ruadhainn (named after Ruadhainn back on Earth) situated within the northern waters of the planet Alba’Lochlann.

Now, Alba’Lochlann is a world of great oceans with land masses and islands scattered across its surface.
You see, decendents of both Scottish and Scandinavian peoples of Earth came together in 2243 to colonize Alba’Lochlann with the hope of returning to the old ways.

Old ways meaning living closer with / more in harmony with the natural world as well as honoring the ancient gods.

And their colony thrived.

Decades later when the Romulan evacuations began in preparation for the pending Hobus star turning supernova, the citizens of Alba’Lochlann opened their world to accepting in refugees … specifically those of similar mindsets who would fit into the lifestyles they had created on their world.

Some from the Romulan Raehu family were among those seeking sanctuary there. Some even intermarried with individuals within the Ruthven clan

It was enough to where the houses joined … or the two family clans became together one as Clan Ruth’ven.

And the motto of their clan became … “Est Sularus oth Mithas” … or … “My honor is my life.”

This is where it gets interesting for young Thorin (already an officer in Starfleet) as he happened to be serving aboard one of the Starfleet vessels assigned to assist with the evacuations in 2382.

THAT is how he met a young Romulan refugee named Aelisa ir-Sharri t’Raehu whom he fell deeply and madly in love with.

This is how her family first became introduced with his, opening the door that led not just to her family’s merging with his, but Romulan refugees finding a permanent home on Alba’Lochlann.

But what of Thorin’s own Romulan heritage?
Turns out his grandmother on his father’s side had been a tactical officer aboard the Imperial Warbird ChR Bloodwing — a ship once commanded by Ael i-Mhiessan t’Rllaillieu before Ael was promoted to khre’Riov (“Commander-General”).

Disillusioned by the politics gripping the Romulan Star Empire of the mid-23rd century and with the help of her loyal crew on Bloodwing, Ael was “liberated” from her “exile” and set about finding an ally in stopping mind-power experiments whereby the Empire sought through exploitation of the Vulcan people.

Ael sought to turn an enemy into an ally and set about finding Enterprise and James T. Kirk … proposing a plan to Kirk which would require maintaining the fiction that Enterprise was under Romulan control for the journey deep into Romulan space and Levaeri V, where they would destroy the experiments and retrieve the genetic material.

Although Kirk came to believe Ael’s tale, he was still reluctant to utilize Ael’s plan, believing it to be too risky and foolhardy. That changed when word came of the disappearance of the USS Intrepid, a starship staffed completely by Vulcans, at the hands of the Romulans from a nearby sector. Now, with the lives of the Intrepid’s crew on the line, Kirk decided to implement Ael’s plan.

Together, the crews of Bloodwing and Enterprise raided the Levaeri V installation, successfully rescued the Vulcan crew and destroyed the Romulan research, while gaining access to experimental new Sunseed technology.

Branded traitors for their actions, Ael and the surviving Bloodwing crew left for unknown space as exiles.
Of course, Thorin’s grandmother, Caithlin i-Mnaeha t’Jhaelaa had already falling in love with one Caelan Alexander Ruthven who had served as an engineer aboard the Enterprise during their ships’
shared adventures.

When Caithlin became pregnant with Caelan’s child, it was during the time of the Bloodwing crew’s exile.
Ael i-Mhiessan t’Rllaillieu granted Caithlin permission to leave the ship’s crew and marry her beloved to raise their child with his family on Alba’Lochlann where she later gained full status as a Federation citizen.
Yet even though a Federation citizen and adopted into a Scottish clan, Caithlin made sure that just as her children learned the ways of their human ancestors, they also honored and learned the way of their Romulan ancestors.

Lessons taught equally and passed down through the generations to where Thorin knew Romulan culture as well as he knew Scottish / human.

Now fast forward back to closer to present day.

Just as his father had made a career in Starfleet, so son Thorin followed in the father’s footsteps as a graduation of Starfleet Academy’s Class of 2380.

Thorin impressed his superiors enough during the couple years spent assisting with the Romulan evacuation missions to where he was selected as a candidate for the Captaincy Candidate program – a program designed to fast-track individuals believed to have what it takes to command with the hope of getting them into a command seat more quickly.

For Thorin, that first command came in the form of an Andorian designed border patrol escort, named U.S.S. Khyzon.
Although the location shifted from time to time, the Khyzon lived up to its name as a ship that patrolled various regions of space.

Starfleet Command would point, and the Khyzon and her crew would go patrol.

It was a very real command that was also one of those command gigs that could also be looked at as “doing time” and earning one’s spurs that would eventually lead to something slightly bigger and more prestigious.

Of course, some would argue that the “slightly bigger” and “more prestigious” was a bit of an overstatement when it came to the U.S.S. Avon … the Somerville Science Vessel that was Thorin’s second command.

But at least this time instead of patrolling what oftentimes could be viewed as simply empty space, they were actually doing … surveying asteroids, planets, planetoids, stars and even on occasion anomalies and other special phenomena.

And Thorin and his people were seriously quite good at their job, quickly earning a name for themselves.

A name and reputation that finally landed them what many would have called a golden ticket among ship assignments.

In 2393, Thorin tr’Ruth’ven was named captain of a newly christened Vesta-class multi-mission explorer, named U.S.S. Highlander … NCC-82307.

Under his command, she and crew gained a reputation for being able to be tossed into some of the most … interesting … situations and still get the job done.

The worse the situation, the better they seemed to perform.

An exception might be 2401 when the Borg took control of the fleet and mass assimilated most of the crew of not just the Highlander, but ALL the ships participating in the Frontier Day fleet maneuvers over Earth.

It is by only his wits and cunning that Thorin managed to keep many of the non-assimilated members of his crew alive (as well as himself) by shielding them from ship’s internal sensors.

By the end of those events, the Highlander was one of the ships that had been on the cusp of being decommissioned but whereby fleet command had deemed it intact and worthy enough for restoration and refit.

The latter of which took near a year and a half.

It was not until 2403 that Highlander again knew the freedom of warping once more among the stars.

Of course with the fleet still in the process of rebuilding, the ship was assigned a lot of routine, mundane duties like hauling freight, patrolling the spacelanes and and trouble spots … or out troubleshooting and putting out the various brushfires that seemed to want to spring up everywhere.

Natural occurrences considering enemies (and sometimes allies) sought to take advantage of Starfleet being more stretched.

But even among the mundane, they got in their fair share of first contact and exploration missions … boldly going.

The years rolled past and then finally came the Klingon-Federation War of 2409 whereby they were thrust onto the frontlines of the Federation defending against the Klingon Empire.

2409 … a year of many events that in another century might have spanned out across several decades.

But 2409 was a year where the dice always seemed to be rolling … sometimes the odds were in your favor and other times not so much.

In addition to the war with the Klingons, the Highlander was assigned to help stabilize the chaotic waters of Romulan space by supporting and strengthening the Romulan Republic while helping destabilize the Tal Shiar.

It should be noted that Thorin’s wife, Aelisa, joined finally followed in his footsteps, graduating Starfleet Academy in 2408 with their daughter Vaelaryn graduating in 2409.

Both were quick to earn commands of their own … both with ships likewise assigned to the Romulan front.

Later that year, the Highlander assisted with dealing with the Devidian crisis aboard Drozana Station in both the present and the past.

In fact, their ship was sent backwards in time by Section 31 to fend off the Devidians at the point of their incursion (which could have disrupted the timeline) during what some referred to as the age of “Those old Scientists” … or the “TOS-era.”

The mission was a success, although the Highlander suffered stress fractures along the structural spine of the ship to the point the Starfleet Corps of Engineers gave Starfleet Command no choice but to order the 16-year-old ship’s decommissioning.

At present, the crew awaits a new ship and / or re-assignment.

The post Meet … Thorin ir-Perth tr’Ruth’ven appeared first on The Malstrom Expanse.

“WHAT IN THE NINE FIRES OF GRETHOR IS GOING ON, ADMIRAL?!?!”

The people in the spacedock’s command and control center melted out of the way of the fuming Klingon.

Especially since not many would dare speak to Fleet Admiral Jorel Quinn that way, but then the Commander-and-Chief of Starfleet had been expecting this confrontation.

“What can I do for you Fleet Admiral?” he asked.

Hauk’ bulled his way through the room like a tornado surrounded by dark clouds spitting hail and lightning.

Of course, his voice rang like a thunderclap as he spoke.

“What’s the meaning of this?”

Hauk tossed the padd onto the console at which the Trill flag officer had been working.

Jorel didn’t even give it a glance. As stated before, he’d been expecting THIS confrontation.

“You STRIPPED my ship of its name before it could even be christened,” the Klingon fumed.

“WHY?”

“You of all people here KNOW what that name means to me,” he added.

Jorel shot a quick glance at Capt. Akira Sulu and with a gesture had him activate the privacy bubble around the area immediately surrounding the master holographic display where the three officers now stood.

The bubble muted any sound or sights within the bubble by those outside until it was again deactivated.

“There are a few things you need to know, and I had to wait until everything could be verified and RE-verified,” he said finally.

“What in Grethor are you talking about?” Hauk asked.

“What …… THINGS?”

He dragged out the last word for effect.

“What I’m about to tell you is classified. … At least for the moment,” the CINC began.

“An Odyssey-variant of a class we’ve never built … or considered for that matter … was found adrift and dark.”

“She was floating outside an anomaly the Valkyrie happened to have been sent out investigate … a location I’m not quite ready to speak of just yet.”

“What I can tell you is that this is a ship … with a registry … you might find very interesting.”

Jorel tapped the console in front of him to alter the holographic display before them.

Hauk’ took an involuntary step back before regaining his composure and stepping forward again, to better inspect the ship visual currently displayed.

It was indeed a variant of the Odyssey line (as this reality would call it), but definitely not one from this reality.

But Hauk’ knew it well as it was one he’d known well in the alternate universe he’d originally called home.

And it wasn’t just the class of starship he knew well, but the ship itself as well.

Written across the saucer, was … “U.S.S. Excalibur” … “NCC-71446-A.”

After the U.S.S. Excalibur, NCC-71446, had been destroyed in the Second Battle of Centerpoint, it had not taken long before another ship with that name had been christened.

Unlike the Odyssey-class, this ship featured a round saucer and nacelle pylons that swept forward.

In the display, the ship was dark and lifeless … floating dead in space.

She might not have been the one that had served as his flagship once upon a time, but she was one of which he still had definite ties with.

The ship, however, had been reported missing and lost — believed captured by the Horvauk (an offshoot of a race called Undine in this reality).

Swallowing hard and without turning away from the display, he asked the question.

“What of the crew?” he asked, his voice cracking slightly.

Jorel smiled.

“I’m pleased to report that your god daughter is alive and well as are most of her crew.”

“Alive?” Hauk’ turned.

“And despite the anomaly draining power about every system on that ship, Capt. Bahni’qin managed to somehow keep her people alive.”

“It took over three weeks before Excalibur was located and another week and a half before they could figure out how to extract them from all the gravity wells that held them …”

The CINC paused a moment before continuing.

“You understand we had to verify that ship’s origins and the crew’s identities and origins as well before we could even think of sharing any of this with you.”

Hauk’ nodded. It was far from his … as the humans would say … ‘first rodeo.’

Jorel switched the view of the ship to one more current.

The image now shown ship nestled in drydock with hull more crisp and solid … definite life within her spaceframe.

“And considering that we plan to add this ship to the fleet … still under the command of your god daughter,” Jorel said with a smug grin, “I’m sure you can see why you’ll simply have to come up with another name for your flagship.”

“We did have to replace the saucer section by the stardrive section was relatively intact so a welcome addition that comes at a time when we really need new ships.”

For too many years now, Hauk’ had felt his god daughter lost to him — daughter of a good friend and one whom he’d pledged himself to protect and help guide through life and along the warrior’s path.

And not even because the whole of his reality had collapsed as they’d been missing since even before that.

Now … he was without words.

“I need to see her,” Hauk’ said.

Jorel nodded.

“Excalibur is being assigned to the Malstrom expanse,” he answered.

“You should find ship and crew already there once you’ve returned.”

The Klingon gestured towards the privacy curtain. “Why all this?”

“For all your gruffness, you Klingon’s tend to be an … emotional species at times,” he answered.

And quickly, the CINC grinned.

“That and I wasn’t sure just how angry you were likely to get before I could explain the situation.”

Jorel winked. “Wanted to spare you the dignity of a public ass kicking.”

Hauk’ could respect the answer, but … “My ass kicked? … You dream, Admiral. You dream.”

Jorel laughed before putting a hand on the other’s shoulder.

“Congratulations on your daughter.”

“Thank you, Admiral. You’ve no idea …” Hauk’ fought back tears. “…the hope this gives me.”

“It’s more than just having her back.”

He paused. “It’s a piece of … home … returned to me.”

Hauk’ had long sense made his peace with his home galaxy being lost and gone, and this reality home.

But just as he’d hoped to find other survivors and refuges of his verse possibly hidden within the Malstrom Expanse, it was a slim hope with the Klingon being a realist.

In his heart, he’d committed those there just as his daughter before him to the afterlife.

And now she’d returned as if on the wings of what some humans might call a Valkyrie.

Hauk’ paused again, looking to the display and the Excalibur.

“Beowulf,” he said after a moment.

“Since my new ship has to change its name … U.S.S. Beowulf.”

“It’s a name that’s been on my short list for quite some time now.”

Beowulf … an Old English epic poem in the tradition of Germanic heroic legend consisting of 3,182 alliterative lines. It’s considered one of the most important and most often translated works of Old English literature.

It’s a story surrounding the deeds of Beowulf — a hero and prince of the Geats.

A young warrior who comes to the aid of Hrothgar, king of the Danes, whose great hall, Heorot, is plagued by the monster Grendel.

Beowulf kills Grendel with his bare hands, then kills Grendel’s mother with a giant’s sword that he found in her lair.

Later in his life, he becomes king of the Geats, and finds his realm terrorized by a dragon, some of whose treasure had been stolen from his hoard in a burial mound.

He attacks the dragon with the help of his thegns or servants, but they do not succeed.

Beowulf decides to follow the dragon to its lair at Earnanæs, but only his young Swedish relative Wiglaf, whose name means “remnant of valour”, dares to join him.

Beowulf finally slays the beast, but is mortally wounded in the struggle. He is cremated and a burial mound by the sea is erected in his honour.

In a nutshell, Beowulf’s tale is one worthy of song and opera.

And you have not read the true story until you’ve read it in its original Klingon.

It’s understandable why this work by an anonymous author captured the heart and imagination of the Klingon.

And then there was Excelsior-class variant released not long after the Excelsior itself.

The NCC-2701 was an Excelsior-class that updated technologies originally found in the then outdated Repulse class.

She was built to explore the farther reaches of space, existing for longer periods out past the known frontiers while operating alone.

Her discoveries and deeds were many, yet she and her crew were often eclipse by the large shadows of the Enterprise and Kirk … Excelsior and Sulu.

Hauk’ always felt she deserved more recognition and time in the spotlight.

Plus, he happened to know there was no Beowulf currently in active service within the fleet as the Akira-class version had been decommissioned following damage sustained during the last Voth incursion.

The Commander-in-Chief of Starfleet retrieved the padd Hauk had so unceremoniously thrown down in front of him earlier and made notes on it before giving his authorized blessing.

“U.S.S. Beowulf… NCC-2701-A, it will be then.”

The Fleet Admiral handed the Klingon back the padd.

“Congratulations, Fleet Admiral on both the return of your daughter AND your new starship.”

The post “Swords, ships and goddaughters” appeared first on The Malstrom Expanse.

by Hauk – Pathfinder

Scene: Main Bridge — U.S.S. Artemis
Location: Solanae Dyson Sphere – Interior Space
Time: Five days into a Voth offensive

—-

Being thrown across the bridge of my starship was NOT on my list of things to do today.

Yet that’s what happened.

“HELM … EVASIVE!” I nearly screamed, coming out of my chair. “SHORTEST ROUTE NOW!

That was mistake one … getting out of that chair.

What was it Kirk once said? … Don’t ever let them pull you out of that chair?

On the main viewer, explosions wracked the length of the Voth dreadnought in a chain reaction spreading from one end to the other with grand blinding effect.

Held my feet like any seasoned sailor of old for that part, yet those explosions were happening well ahead of time planned.

On the viewer, the screen grew brighter and brighter until growing shadows flew towards us.

“BRACE! BRACE! BRACE!”

Of course there was no bracing for me as I’d stupidly gotten out of my chair in the middle of a heated combat situation.

Such a rookie mistake … celebrating the victory before you’d made good on the escape.

As the Voth dreadnought came apart, pieces of the massive ship … big pieces, small pieces, medium sized … huge … tiny and then those that seemed like a small moon.

It was one of the latter the helm with a skilled hand managed to avoid but there had been only one path and that was a path through a lot of those small and medium sized debris I’d told you about.

When the Artemis slipped past the one massive chunk, it seemed a thousand smaller ones were waiting as we walked straight into it like walking into a cloud of mosquitos on a hot summer day down around the Grand Bayou of Caullatru III.

Artemis shields were overwhelmed in an instant by the smaller pieces as a larger chunk crashed through the starboard side of the saucer section … cracking it open with a strike on the dorsal side as the collision sent our Excelsior II class into an uncontrolled spin.

That was when I went flying across the bridge, btw.

In my mind’s eye, it was or should have been a great feat of gymnastics prowess.

But when I looked back on the bridge security footage sometime later, I realized I would have to give it a rating of 3 out of 10 as I didn’t even come close to sticking the landing and actually overshot the runway by …

Well, let’s not get into that.

Enough to say that because you are reading this, I survived … thanks to the warrior tough build we Klingons seem to have been born with.

And if not for this hard head, I’d be in a torp casing right now with some anthem playing as they shot my Sa’Hut (or as humans would say … “ass”) out into space.

I didn’t survive the destruction of my reality just to be killed by an act of stupidity on my part.

Speaking of survival, the only reason we are alive today is because of the skill of Ens. Atyza Sh’vhiahres, the Andorian working the helm.

Atyza is someone I plan to make sure sticks with me as we transfer off the Artemis and onto the next.

Transfer off? … Why, you ask?

Despite the fact we lost a nacelle to a shower of pebbles (well, pebble-sized debris), Atyza managed to get the thrusters only long enough to control the force of our spin to level us out, changing our trajectory to take us through what was likely the only clear path into the heart of the still exploding Voth ship.

We emerged on the other side just as their ship went nova … Artemis catching the edge of that explosion but this time being thrown into the clear by it.

Still a bit more damage as a result, but all of it remains repairable at this point.

It’s just going to take more weeks than we can afford right now, so the crew and I are being transferred.

We will be taking over what was supposed to become Capt. Ruble’s new command … the U.S.S. Excalibur, NCC-71446.

Sadly Bill (who I’d met once in the reality and was a friend back in mine) was killed during an engagement with the Borg as were several members of his crew.

Thier ship had been boarded by the collective.

As captain (and because of the person he was), Bill led a fireteam into the bowels of his ship, seeking not just to save the ship from the Borg … but more so, his crew.

It was too late for many, but I’ve heard the stories first hand from survivors who say that without Bill’s sacrifice … they would now all be drones and the ship “assimilated.”

The old ship went into drydock for refit and Bill’s crew all reassigned.

Although Hauk’ was glad his new ship was coming, this wasn’t exactly how he’d wanted to receive it … at the expense of one such as Bill.

Not an easy thing to sit in the chair of the great Bill Ruble (a man I highly respected), but I promise to do my best to take good care of what should have been HIS command.

—-OUT OF STORY—-

Updated this story to reflect the change from Tempest to Maelstrom as well as the change in ship class.

And have I said yet? … The Connie III-class is extremely fun to play with in game!

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by Hauk – Kaiwolf

Scene: Yard Master’s Office — Björkö Fleet Yards
Location: Yard Master’s Office — Björkö Fleet Yards, Moskoe Anchorage

—-

“I’m sorry, but Dahar Master Hauk … your twin … pulled the rug out from under you and assigned the Tempest to someone else.”

Twin if you overlooked the fact they stem from different realities, and one was missing an eye that is.

Capt. Alan Sollace slid the padd across the table to the one-eyed admiral.

Hauk’ had come to work with the captain quite closely lately as the yard master (soon to return to space as captain of the U.S.S. Sam Houston) was the current yard master for the Björkö Fleet Yards, located in the Moskoe Anchorage region along the outer “eastern” edge of the Malstrom Expanse.

Fleet Admiral Hauk picked the padd up and gave it a courtesy if not disgusted glance.

“I thought he was stepping down and Adoy was taking his place?”

Hauk’ and his double did not see eye to eye on many things at the moment as his counterpart still held a bit of a grudge over the ship Hauk’ had cost him during their … meeting …. back in the Klingon-Federation War.

“All that’s still happening, but something changed that made him authorize the change before that happens,” Alan answered.

The Klingon Starfleet admiral growled as he’d had his heart set on that ship.

“Where in Grethor is she going?”

“Tempest is being passed over to Fleet Admiral Miles Llewellyn’s task force, and he’s assigning it to Capt. Fox White.”

Hauk’ knew the Miles of his reality is a good man and even a friend. 

This Miles remained a stranger … a stranger that now was standing in his way to this ship.

The Klingon took a measured breath and set the padd back down on the desk, seeing this as yet another battlefield.

Although Hauk’ preferred commanding starships and being out there … Thanks to his previous life, he also was quite at home playing the administrative game as well.

It was a game he first learned in Ancillary Division … Harbour Command and all the way up the chain to being Starfleet’s top dog himself.

That universe or this one, that game remained the same.   

“I still want that ship.”

“Actually, Admiral … there is another option that’s just come available.”

Alan slid a second padd across the table while taking back the first before continuing.

“Another Connie III has just opened up and come available.”

For some reason, (likely all the new improvements to the class) the Constitution III …or Neo-Constitution as some like to call them … class had become quite popular and in demand by fleet admirals and captains seeking them for their fleets, task forces and commands.

So much so that as far as the newer retrofits go, she was definitely giving the Excelsior II and Sagan classes a run for their money.

And you couldn’t even compare her to the Odyssey variants out there as size put them in two completely different categories.

“I thought they were all spoken for,” Hauk commented.

“Where did this one come from?” he asked.

Alan’s face fell slightly.

“Capt. William Ruble was recently killed in action.”

The room went silent to the point Hauk only heard the sound of his heart beating in his chest.  Or such was his imaginings.

Bill was a good man.  One he’d only met once in this reality but had been a close friend back in the other.

“They were killed during an engagement with the Borg as were several members of his crew,” Alan continued.

“Borg drones boarded the ship. Bill led a fireteam into the bowels of his ship, seeking not just to save the ship from the Borg … but … you know the man …  more so, his crew.”

“Was too late for many, but I’ve heard the stories first hand from survivors who say that without Bill’s sacrifice … they would now all be drones and the ship ‘assimilated,’” the captain finished.

There had been a reason Bill had been deserving of a new command.

The Efrosian-Scotsman tapped the back of the padd now in Hauk’s hand.

“I give you the NCC-71446 … Connie III-class Miracle Worker Cruiser,” Alan began.

Hauk’ recognized that number instantly as he’d seen it before on another ship in another reality.

He looked up quickly.

“…the U.S.S. Excalibur,” Alan continued.

What Alan didn’t know was that the name Excalibur held deep significance to the Klingon Starfleet Admiral.

As an alternate Excalibur had once served as his flagship and that of his fleet.

Seemed history was repeating but this time in a positive way.

Hauk pulled himself from the moment as he remembered this hull was one of two.

“Just like her sister, the Tempest,” Alan added as if on cue. “Well, almost … half-sisters as this one is … a bit unconventional in her systems.”

Sister ships are ships of the same class or of virtually identical design to another.

Half-sisters same class but with some significant differences.

“What’s her launch schedule?” Hauk asked.

“Almost identical to her sister. … Wanna go see her?”

With a nod, the fleet admiral was already half out of his seat.

—-OUT OF STORY—-

This sets the stage for the fact that the Tempest name is going to be one that will be flown by a character being written by a friend as well as sets the stage for what will become Hauk’s new flagship.

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