Cmdr Ba'alyo

The following log is set before the conclusion of the 12/05/10 sim and prior to the log "Conversations"... The turbolift doors opened and Captain John C. Harriman stepped into the bright colors of the Enterprise-B bridge. Well within Federation space, their mapping and exploration mission was only a few months old, but as the flagship, it wouldn't have surprised him to have the ship suddenly diverted to some border incursion or other flashpoint. The Admiralty seemed to think having Enterprise arrive on the scene was a way of showing Federation resolve. But this particular summons to the bridge hadn't come from new orders. "What've you got for me, Vasquez?" he asked his chief science officer. As usual, her wavy red hair was pulled back in a loose regulation ponytail. "The system we're approaching, sir," she began, "it's one of the inhabited class-M worlds that's never been visited." Harriman nodded. He knew it shouldn't have been surprising how many systems near the Federation core – while charted remotely or by visiting probe – had never been touched by manned exploration. With 400 billion stars in the galaxy, that meant there were millions of systems just a thousand light-year radius from Earth. If only a fraction could sustain life, that left thousands of candidates close to home. This sector, well below the galactic plane, had seen it's share of planned missions, but some nearby crisis – Tholian incursion, Nomad probe, interstellar amoeba – had always drawn Starfleet's attention elsewhere. Many of the worlds Enterprise had surveyed in the last few weeks bore merely an alphanumeric catalog designation. The one they approached was simply UFP-2861BZ, which they'd been calling by the unoriginal moniker 'Beta Zed' in their briefings. "Go on," he prompted the lieutenant, checking the fastening of the white shoulder strap to the front flap of his burgundy uniform. "Our latest scans still show a thriving civilization on the third planet," Vasquez continued, "but we detected this unexpected reading above it." She keyed a sequence and magnified it on the display above her. Harriman took a moment to study the waveform. "A subspace field," he concluded. The last long-range probe, sent three years earlier, had suggested this was a tranquil, advancing race that had broken the warp barrier, but they had never left the confines of their system. "Is that surprising?" "Not at first," the chief science officer admitted, "but the magnitude was greater than expected, an object at Warp 4 headed outward." Harriman smiled. "Are they finally headed out to explore the galaxy?" he asked, amazed at the coincidence. Such a breakthrough could open doors for the kind of first contact mission both he and Starfleet wanted. "Where are they going?" Vasquez shook her head. "That's the interesting thing, captain," she revealed. She looked toward the helm expectantly. Harriman turned that way, as well, meeting the gaze of his helmsman, junior lieutenant Demora Sulu. "We projected a warp trail," she advised. "Sir, it's coming directly toward us." * * * * * The small warp-capable ship had approached, taking about an hour to reach their position outside the system before slowing to sublight. Sensors showed they carried tele-visual communication, capable of responding to hails. "This is Captain John C. Harriman of the starship Enterprise," he greeted, standing in front of the center chair. "On behalf of the United Federation of Planets, I extend an offer of peace and friendship." The image onscreen was an auburn haired, regal-looking woman who looked human from all visible evidence. The only notable difference was her unusually dark eyes, looking as if the irises themselves were black. "Thank you, captain," she smiled warmly. "I am Latani Grax, Outworld Minister and daughter of the Fourth House. I welcome you on behalf of..." she paused briefly, "...the inhabitants of Betazed." The captain blinked momentarily at the use of their own designation and glanced toward Commander Tobiason, manning the communications station. Tobiason showed amazement, briefly muting the conversation. "The translator didn't render that," he reported. "We're hearing her actual words, in our own language." The woman spoke again, drawing Harriman's attention back to the screen. "Our people have been aware of your existence for a short time," Minister Grax explained without prompting. "Since then, we have been preparing how best to receive you." Harriman smiled, wondering how this knowledge had come to them. "I must confess we're surprised to meet you out here like this," he admitted, "but it was the hope of our journey to make contact with your people." Grax nodded. "Improvements in our faster-than-light capability are a recent development," she offered. "We sensed your approach at some distance. It was decided that, when the time came for us to meet, it would be safer to meet here in the depths of space." "Safer?" Harriman allowed himself the one-word question, warily, while wondering what sensors had detected their approach from so far out. These people appeared peaceful, as the probes suggested, and their little warpship was unarmed. He hoped it was not the size and armament of Enterprise that concerned them. The woman onscreen seemed ready for the question. "We are what your species would call 'telepaths'," she said frankly. "It seemed wisdom to warn you of this before your ship entered our system. My people recognize you as explorers who mean us no harm, but yours may be uncomfortable with our openness and what they may consider intrusion into your thoughts." Harriman blinked at the admission, falling to silence. Slow realization came upon him of the implications. Of course, he realized, they must have plucked the name for their planet from his mind. And they'd done it across a comm channel? Had they detected Enterprise's arrival from its thoughts? Was this how they were able to speak the language? Was she hearing him now? "You have many such questions," Latina offered, confirming his fears while trying to calm them. "We welcome the chance to meet with you here, at this safe distance, to begin this process of 'first contact' and answer your questions. We invite you to come to our ship and hope to visit yours." Harriman felt a surge of excitement and trepidation. This was the kind of risk Kirk had meant, he considered, that came with sitting in the chair behind him. "We look forward to meeting you in person and learning more. I'm told your world is a garden paradise; I hope we can visit it." Minister Grax nodded. "We invite you to send probes to study our world as we talk; we are an open society with no secrets to hide," she welcomed. "But we have one request: we ask that you delay any visit our world," she paused, gazing back with those dark eyes, "until you can invite those from the starship Challenger to join us."

Added some Fair Use images of characters mentioned in the log.

While deep Trek knowledge isn't essential, you'll be amazed at how much you can pick up over the course of simming. Sometimes, if a particular plotline delves into Trek lore, the hosts will prompt the crew by suggesting they look at a particular episode, movie, or Memory Alpha subjects. And some positions just don't need require as much history or technobabble. One can survive as a happy-go-lucky security officer with little more knowledge than which end of the phaser to point where ... and which end to avoid. If the scope of the later Trek canon looms too large, you can always consider STSF Advanced Sims set it the TOS era. Hood is classic TOS, Challenger is late TOS movies, and Commanche Creek is New TOS (Abramsverse). You can always ease into later eras over time.

Attached is an edited compilation of player and guest logs, providing a narrative of Challenger history over its multi-year mission. Season One: 2294 (Attached [pages 1-48]) Covering the construction and launch of the USS Challenger, its lengthy mission arc to Qo'noS (including convoy attacks, relief efforts, coup attempts, and the Battle of the Azure Nebula), and the outbreak of plasma plague on Obi VI. Season Two: 2295 (Attached [pages 49-120]) Detailing a Romulan encounter in the Lantaru Sector (region of "subspace death"), conclusion of the Organian Treaty, avoidance of war in Elasian-Troyian space, shore leave on Pacifica, and the rescue of an unknown species of telepaths from tentacled menaces. Season Three: 2296 (Current Year, In Production) Includes a lengthy diplomatic mission to Magna Roma, rescue of a freighter from Orion privateers, recovery from an amnesia-inducing minefield, and the exploration of several worlds (magnestar system, jungle ruins, and swarm-infested ice planet) during the search for an Orion pirate base. Attachments are in MSWord format. USS_Challenger_Logs_2294.doc USS_Challenger_Logs_2295.doc

Season Two narrative has been posted, with the above entry revised.

The orb was a multi-colored palate of pinks and yellows and greens, with even its large bodies of water covered by interwoven layers of fungus and seaweed. Warmed by its cool blue star and the radiant heat of the gas giant it orbited, the fertile moon had once been the cradle of an unrecorded, but intelligent, species. Now it hosted only abundant plant and animal life. The native sentients had once spread across the surface, taming the wilderness, clearing agricultural spans, and erecting cities of concrete, metal, and glass. They had reached sufficient levels of technology to harness the atom, loft objects to circle their world, and begin their first chemical driven foreys into nearby space. And then they were gone. The cause -- like much about their existence -- was still unknown. It was no ancient cataclysm that had ended their dominance of the globe. Only 600 years had passed since the last of their kind stood on the surface. Although their rise and passage was a mere blip in the geologic history, the ravages of time had not yet erased their trace. Native flora, unchecked, had advanced into the remnants of civilization, breaking up streets and sending down roots that drove apart structures. Metal reinforcement bars, expanding with hundreds of years of oxidation, crumbled the concrete they were meant to strengthen. Humid air and unforgiving sunlight pitted surfaces, fractured sealants, and eroded joints. Aggressive molds had rotted wood and consumed softer building materials. The tallest structures had collapsed over the first centuries, their metal frameworks yielding to corrosion and the relentless force of gravity. Only massive stone and concrete buildings retained a semblance of their shape and function. Wind-blown seeds and spores had turned these into multi-level, wondrous hanging gardens. The streets between were debris-filled canyons. Power systems had failed more than a half-millenia ago, with the rare exception of hydroelectric or solar-generated sources. The landing party sent by the starship Columbia -- five humans commanded by a Rigellian Chelon -- had pushed their way through the dense plant life into one of the fallen cities. Their designation for the place was Felfeyra IIIB, although this was far different than the name its inhabitants had given it. Avoiding a large carnivorous plant on the outskirts, the team had emerged into a landscape of gridlike canyons strewn with crumbling cement. Piles of rubble flanked them, with spires of corroded metal and masonry towering in the distance. Seeking the subterranean source of sporadic subspace noise, the team had descended into the fallen interior of a former underground transportation network. They'd unknowingly passed the remnants of an urban solar power network, it’s triple-junctioned gallium arsenide arrays topping stainless steel poles. Dimmed by dirt and film corrosion, they nevertheless continued to produce a faint electric potential, sufficient to power fading LEDs and charge transtator capacitors. Descending into the basement corridors of what had once been a formidable building, they found the gilded, ornate lobby of a laboratory complex. An open shaft, its lift car smashed at the bottom, offered access all the way up to the street level, allowing sudden downdrafts of outside air to mix with humidity from the flooded lower levels. The source of the subspace signals that had summoned them remained a mystery, somewhere within the decaying remnants of a culture, whose nature and disappearance lay under its own moldering shroud.

The following crew members have been promoted: 22 August, 2010: H.G. Reed has been promoted from Lieutenant Junior Grade to full Lieutenant Dr. Natalie Harris has been promoted from Lieutenant Junior Grade to full Lieutenant Congratulations to you both and many thanks for your contributions to the sim. We hope to continue benefiting from your expertise for many sims to come!

In addition to the above promotions, the following commendations were issued for the two most recent Challenger missions: MAGNA ROMA Lieutenant (j.g.) Josephine Lessard is hereby commended for proficient service and repeated excellence in her analysis of Magna Roma history to successfully identify points of cultural divergence, supporting diplomatic and first contact objectives, and leading an extraction team to recover an officer captured by the native populace. Lieutenant (j.g.) Quintin M'Guire is hereby commended for proficient service in support of diplomatic and first contact objectives with the Magna Roma government. Lieutenant Anastasia Poldara is hereby commended for repeated excellence in challenging the widely-held presumption of Hodgkin's Law of Parallel Development in Magna Roma cultural evolution, for determining the origins of emerging subspace technologies, and isolating sources of cultural contamination. Lieutenant Savros is hereby commended for excellence in leading an archeological study of cites on Magna Roma, helping to determine cultural dating and points of cultural divergence. ORION PIRATE ATTACK (and Amnesia Recovery) For injuries sustained aboard the starship Challenger during boarding action by Orion privateers, Lieutenant H.G. Reed is hereby awarded the Crimson Shield. Lieutenant H.G. Reed is hereby commended for proficient service and meritourous action in outfitting a damaged freighter to successfully lure and engage Orion privateers, working outside the duties of her department in recovering critical power and life support systems after a disabling attack on the USS Challenger, and repelling a boarding attempt by Orion forces. Lieutenant (j.g.) Quintin M'Guire is hereby commended for proficient service for his actions in outfitting a damaged freighter to successfully lure and engage Orion privateers. Lieutenant Anastasia Poldara is hereby commended for proficient service and valor for restoring computer control after a disabling attack on the USS Challenger and in acting beyond the duties of her department in repelling a boarding attempt by Orion forces. Major Kimiko Johnson is hereby commended for proficient service in repelling a boarding attempt by hostile Orion privateers. Lieutenant (j.g.) Edward Freeman is hereby commended for excellence in restoring critical power systems and secondary computer control after a disabling attack on the USS Challenger. NOTE: This list does not include commendations or awards associated with NPCs or command officers.

The following log takes place in the period before the crew woke up disoriented and suffering from amnesia. As the crew begins to recover, some of these events may be remembered... The starship Challenger loomed beside the subdued Orion ship. It had been several hours since they'd overtaken the pirates. Surprised by Challenger's trap, the Orions had broken off their attack on the Efrosian freighter and tried to escape. Although they had fled toward the asteroid remains of a burned-out dwarf system, their speed and shielding were no match for the arsenal of an Excelsior-class starship. Battered down, their engines overheated, they'd been tractored to a stop and boarded by the Marines. After a brief firefight, they had finally surrendered. It had seemed almost anticlimactic. But it was satisfying, Seiben admitted. These pirates had managed to best them previously by avoiding a straight-out fight. In their first encounter, the Orions had escaped by delaying them to save the crew of the USS Taurus. Later, they had forced Challenger to break off pursuit by threatening the civilians they'd captured. Once Major Johnson had confirmed the ship was secure, she'd left her Marines in charge and returned to process the first group of Orion prisoners. Commander Ba'alyo had gone over to the captured ship with security and engineering teams to prepare the prize ship for a return trip to Starbase 15. Over protest, Kimiko had stayed behind to follow Dr. Juno's order to report to sickbay for observation of a minor head injury. Both ships - Teykier's Bounty and Challenger - held position over the next few hours, while material and personnel transported between them. Overseen by Lieutenant Savros, the stolen dilithium went into cargo holds. The liberated hostages were given guest quarters on Deck 3. The captured Orions were processed and brought aboard in small groups, destined for incarceration or eventual repatriation. Captain Seiben stood up from the center seat, finally feeling the fatigue set in. Now that the adrenaline of the chase had worn off, his body felt the hours he'd been on the bridge. The alpha shift had pulled double duty, waiting to spring the trap. During the lull, the night shift had finally relieved them. Poldara, Reed, and M'Guire were already off duty, no doubt in leisure pursuits. Relief officers sat at most of the bridge positions. Even now, Lessard was relinquishing her seat at communications, heading aft to the conference room to compose an after-action report. Now it was his turn. Seiben offered a data slate to the duty officer. Silent and efficient, Mr. Leslie nodded, waiting for the captain to step aside before taking the center seat. Now, he mused, he only had to contend with the Magna Roman "ambassador" who shared his quarters. * * * * * It was a testament to its designers that, after centuries of silent waiting, the gravitic mines still worked. Sentinal signposts of the ancient war that had cleansed this system, the neighboring units had been awakened by the subspace disturbance of objects penetrating their protective zone. Attracted by the EM fields and masses of two ships, they stealthily closed from different directions. Designed to disable enemy ships for capture, the first drew itself within 200 meters of the disc-like portion of the larger intruder. It detonated as programmed, unleashing explosive shrapnel and its primary weapon: the bio-transducer pulse. Asynchronous bio-electric waves blossomed out in an arc toward the target, disabling computers and biological systems alike, weakening them for later acquisition. The pulse jolted those in the saucer section, jarring them into unconsciousness as it wiped their short-term memory. * * * * * Alerts went off in the control center of Teykier's Bounty. Imagining dangers like failing systems or Orion booby-traps, Ba'alyo whirled toward the Andorian beside him. "What's going on, Idrani?" The Marine sergeant looked at the unfamiliar displays, taking time to adjust. "Some kind of explosion, sir," she replied. "I've lost our signal from the ship, and the tractor beam has cut out." "Can we raise Challenger?" the exec demanded. The Andorian shook her head. "No response." "Secure any prisoners we still have aboard, then see if we can get these sensors to tell us what happened," the Efrosian ordered, bolting toward the corridor. "I'll get down to the transporter room and beam over with security." * * * * * The second mine reached them moments later, exploding between the Orion and Federation ships. It peppered the underside of the saucer and the connecting neck as its pulse knocked out systems and any of those remaining conscious. Drifting, their crews disabled, both ships lay waiting to be seized by forces that would no longer be coming. But the minefield didn't know that. It knew only its mission to protect the long-dead system within by keeping intruders here, dazed and trapped in amber - forever, if necessary. A mission other mines lay waiting to assume.

Things were starting to come together. Although the vessel called Challenger had been rattled, its crew dazed or unconscious, most of the damage was being overcome. The ship's power generators were functioning, although still being run at low levels out of caution. Impulse engines were at 30%, with warp power operating at a minimal 15% capability. There seemed to be enough power to run the ship; all of the subsystems looked workable. Emergency force fields were in place on several decks, where the external hull had been torn open by external explosion. With the computer up and running again, those few who were awake had learned their names and positions, even if they seemed unfamiliar. They'd made contact with the unknown ship that was following them. Instead of enemies, they'd found other people dressed in the same uniform, similarly disoriented and wondering what was going on. But it was starting to come back to them. * * * * * On Deck 10, Lieutenant Commander Ryan Leslie slammed shut an access door, sealing a bound and unconscious Orion inside the horizontal alcove labeled "Emergency Shelter". He'd been surprised to find the panels in these oddly-angled corridors concealed all sorts of goodies - temporary pressure suits, engineering tools, fire extinguishers, medical supply kits, and even disaster survival compartments. He and Lieutenant (j.g.) Hannah Reed had hefted their prisoner into one of these. Leslie wasn't worried about the Orion's comfort, since he'd obviously killed at least one Marine and stunned the other two women they'd been working with - Kimiko and Ana. He was surprised it had taken so many of them to overcome the muscle-bound brute, but pleased to find that the experience had unlocked memories of other security incidents - ones where he'd been younger and wearing a red shirt. He was starting to remember. * * * * * Uninterrupted, Ensign Isaac Spencer had been digging through the data banks for more than an hour. He'd learned Challenger was a ship of the United Federation of Planets with over 750 officers and crew aboard. He'd stumbled on a record - a log - that said the ship was responding to a distress call from a Federation freighter being attacked by Orion pirates. They'd been chasing the pirates and overcome them near this asteroid field. According to the log, they had seized the Orion ship, captured its crew, and had been slowly bringing them aboard as prisoners. There was no record of another attack after that, but timestamps showed the damage happened a couple hours after that. Whatever it was, it had been a surprise. Pleased with himself, he'd wandered back to report to Freeman or Savros, but couldn't find either one. That's when he heard the phasers - although he'd been too startled to wonder how he knew what they were. Unarmed, he dove under an engineering console, trying to keep quiet from the approaching shouts. With a sinking feeling, he wondered if the Orion prisoners had been freed by whatever struck the ship. If so, he considered, it might be their ship that was about to be overcome. * * * * * Dr. Alexei Juno carried the security officer over his shoulder as the lift stopped on Deck 7. Dr. Natalie Harris followed, knowing they could better care for Crewman Reinman in the sickbay that was supposedly on this level. Although they'd been initially uncertain about their respective medical skills, they'd managed to treat his ocular injuries on the bridge. More was starting to come back to them. Freeman, armed with a phaser, had joined the doctors as an escort. There was no telling if there were more murderous Orions lurking on these decks. He'd been fighting off a feeling of deja vu for the last few minutes, as well as the image of the security officer that had been vaporized in front of him. But he found his thoughts more overcome by that warbling he'd heard on the bridge before the lift doors had closed. The sound of a proximity alert... * * * * * Commander Zen Ba'alyo didn't really know his own name, but he was starting to know his place. From the command level of the Orion ship, he'd been talking to the image of Captain Rolf Seiben. Although he didn't recognize the man, he wore the same uniform; there was a growing sense of familiarity about him. They'd been fighting the green-skinned people on this ship since they first woke up. If so many of these Orions hadn't been restrained and similarly disoriented, they might have been easily overcome. But he and the others in the burgundy uniforms had been armed. None of them were fluent in the language on the signs and displays, but they'd managed to keep control. From the facts that were coming together, it seemed he and his group had invaded this ship, an idea he found distasteful. Onscreen, the one called Seiben was looking down, some concern in his expression. "Are you getting that?" he asked. "It's... a proximity alert." The man looked mildly pleased with himself as he identified it. Ba'alyo looked around at the other men in uniform, who started looking in turn at the incomprehensible consoles. There were so many blinking lights, they were overcome with information. What else was going to happen to them?

Inside the starship Challenger, the crew was regaining their bearings. Four of the impulse engine fusion arrays had been brought online, restoring power to internal force fields and averting further decompression danger. Bulkheads, though still lowered on the damaged decks, could now be raised safely. The Matter/Anti-matter Reaction Chamber (M/ARC) was running at low levels. There was now sufficient energy to raise the external shields, charge the phaser banks, engage the tractor, or propel the ship at faster-than-light speeds - although none of these things had yet been attempted. In addition to steadying the rhythm of its heartbeat, the brain of the mighty ship was beginning to wake. Primary and secondary computer cores had been reinitialized. Several of those who were conscious had managed to learn their name, position, and rank aboard the ship. * * * * * Lieutenant Commander Ryan Leslie, who had just learned he was senior duty officer for the bridge's night shift, was making his way toward the center of Deck 7. He was helping Hannah Reed, the young woman who was listed as chief navigator, find a doctor to help her injured arm. Main sickbay was supposed to be on this level, somewhere towards the interior. He and Reed had passed a number of unconscious people sprawled on the deck or leaning against the angled surface of the corridors. Interestingly, none were wearing uniform jackets like theirs or the puffy white coveralls they'd seen on the impulse deck. Instead, these people wore burgundy one-piece jumpsuits with a black collar. And they had little brass plates on their right shoulders with names like Barstow and Murdock and Andrax. Although none were injured or dead, they'd been able to offer little help other than propping them in a more comfortable position. But no doctors in sight. "Where are they," Leslie asked no one in particular, "all huddled in an access tunnel somewhere?" * * * * * Accessing the computer library, Major Kimiko Johnson and Lieutenant Anastasia Poldara had learned their names and respective positions as Marine commandant and chief science officer. The afterglow of their find had been rudely interrupted by a violent, green-skinned giant, who'd been summarily subdued by the two of them. Under duress, he'd claimed to know nothing about their situation, having awoken in a holding cell several decks below them. The voice from the bridge had directed them to return him to a secured cell. They'd marched him into the corridor, agreeing it was a good idea. * * * * * His own name was Isaac Spencer, an ensign assigned as relief communications officer. At least that's what the crew manifest indicated. He'd left the others back at the warp intermix thing so he could access the computer. Scrolling through the visual record, he'd first recognized the face of his travelling companion Lieutenant Savros, who was listed as science officer. He was a Vulcan. Quintin M'Guire was the name associated with one of the guys they'd run into. He was listed as a junior lieutenant assigned as helmsman. Rounding out their group, he finally found Edward Freeman, a junior grade lieutenant in engineering. Inwardly pleased at his discoveries, Spencer started poking through the records, trying to figure out how they got there. * * * * * He ran the pads of one hand against the scratchy hair of his face, grunting a little. The other side of his face was throbbing and cold. Opening his eyes, he saw that he was lying against a metal floor. He muttered a curse and got to his feet, noting that through the darkness there were a lot of pulsing lights. Where was he? There were words printed on the wall that said "Cargo Transporter 1" and a large raised area in front of him. On the wide flat surface were stacked geometrically-shaped containers saying Elasian Imperial Trade, Dilithium Crystals, Raw. He looked down at the jumpsuit that covered his plump frame. He pulled off a brass plate that said Telthar. The whole place made no sense. Worse, it looked and smelled... sterile. Why would he be in such a place? * * * * * Captain Rolf Seiben had learned not only his name, but in the last hour had confirmed he was in charge of this drifting vessel. The young woman with him was Lieutenant Josephine Lessard, chief communications officer. They'd been pleased to field messages from throughout the ship and watch various systems come to life, but now there were troubling reports with words like "intruders" and "Orions". Now their attention was directed to a Science console and a disconcerting blip highlighted onscreen. Outside the starship Challenger, an unknown ship was moving slowly. It seemed to have its bearings - it was heading right for them.

Attached is a graphic depicting internal damage to the starship Challenger and the wanderings of those crewmembers who awoke in their amnesic state.

The starship Challenger and its crew were damaged. It had been three hours since the events which had caused both. Two explosions had ripped into the superstructure of the mighty starship, damaging systems and exposing some of the inner decks to space. The first had been further away, above and in front of the ship. Fragments had ripped into the upper foresection of the saucer, punching holes in the primary hull into Decks 3, 4, and 5. Force fields had deployed to preserve the atmosphere, but eventually failed due to increasing demands on impulse power. Portions of those decks were now in vacuum. Emergency bulkheads had lowered to protect the rest of the ship. The second explosion had been near the connecting "neck" of the ship and much closer. Debris had torn into the underside of the saucer, as well as portions of the secondary hull. The aft sections of Deck 11 and 12 on the saucer had eventually decompressed, as had the fore sections of Decks 13 - 16, including the photon torpedo complex. Again, bulkheads had lowered to protect the rest of the ship. The damage had been more than structural. Fluctuations in the magnetic constriction fields had engaged automatic safety protocols in Main Engineering. The warp intermix chamber had been flushed of reactants to avoid a catastrophic core breach. Plasma had been valved to the warp field coils, then vented overboard through the nacelles. Deuterium and antimatter in the core had been routed to their respective storage containment pods. The power demands of the ship had fallen to the impulse engines; sadly, only two of the twelve fusion generators had been running at 80% capacity, which was not enough to sustain both life support and the atmospheric force fields for more than a few hours. One by one, those fields had failed, decompressing the areas near the hull breaches. Eventually, the Main Shuttlebay field had collapsed as well, blowing several unanchored shuttlecraft out of the ship. The unique shock effect had disrupted the starboard and port primary computer cores, as well as the secondary core in engineering. The internal communications and sensors had overloaded and knocked offline. The external versions of these systems was non-functional, since subspace sensors and transceivers had been ionized. Without warp engines online, weapons and defensive shields were virtually powerless. The crew itself remained damaged, unable to access their memories or identities. Hundreds were still unconscious, with several minor injuries attributable to their collapse. A handful had been killed in the blasts, explosive decompression, or asphyxiated after failure of the force fields. But things were improving. A dozen officers and crew were making their way through the ship, trying to understand and correct their situation. While none of them knew their own names, teams had managed to reinitialize the computer cores and restore internal communications. The two active fusion engines had been brought to 100%, offering enough power to maintain life support and restore the atmospheric shields. Some had shown signs of remembering skills they were unaware they possessed. Things were improving. But the approach of the other ship might make things much worse.

In summary of the above graphic: --Seiben / Lessard (and presumably Juno) remain on the bridge. --Leslie / Reed are in impulse engineering, having restored full power to two (of 12) fusion engines. --Savros / Spencer are on Deck 25, assessing onboard damage via the restored secondary computer core --Freeman is on Deck 24, having restored and reinitialized the secondary computer core --(Ana) Poldara / Kimiko are on Deck 7, having reinitialized the primary computer core and fiddled with power allocation --M'Guire's wanderings have intersected Freeman's, but he seems to have heading off to look for a lifepod --Harris / (Michael) Poldara were forced to flee into a Jeffries tube, after some of Deck 3 decompressed The location of other characters (Ba'alyo, Nitara, T'ashaya, and Teros) is not shown, but will be noted once revealed. [Note: This graphic is based on the ST:Generations MSD, which assumes a 34-deck Excelsior (Mk II) interior layout. Although I've referenced this graphic during the plotline, there are differences with our posted deck description.]

It wasn't going to be that easy. First, he didn't really know what he was doing. It would have been easier if he knew he was Ryan Leslie, a Lieutenant Commander and duty officer in charge of the bridge's night shift. But it wasn't going to be that easy. Two hours ago, he'd woken up, finding himself stretched over a console in front of a large blank viewscreen. The circular room he was in had a lot of computer stations embedded in the walls around him. Most had people slumped over them or in chairs beside them. The room was dark, bathed only in red light. Several displays showed red blinking lights and warnings. Almost immediately, he realized he had no idea where he was. Distracted, he heard someone moan behind him and saw a man getting up from the metal floor, just beyond a curved railing. The man glanced around, looking similarly disoriented, and stumbled down a step into the center of the room. He swiveled a large, empty chair and dropped into it, rubbing his head. It hadn't taken long to determine the other man was just as confused as he was. Only after trying to introduce himself did he finally realize: he didn't know who he was. They tried to take in their surroundings. The large display in the back of the room showed they were on a ship called the USS Challenger. Other lights and warnings made it clear something bad had happened. A few key presses brought the lighting back to normal. It would have been easier if Leslie could remember his many years of sitting at a bridge engineering console. But it wasn't going to be that easy. They did a quick check of the other men and women around them, finding them unconscious, but uninjured. There was a frantic moment when they'd found one who had turned blue, but after trying to clear his airway, they'd found he was still breathing. After finding antenna on his head, noting the coolness of his body, and seeing the deep blueness of his skin they'd come to the conclusion that the man wasn't human. And yet, this didn't seem strange to either of them. The displays around them had titles like "Communications," "Science," and "Engineering," which suggested they were in the ship's control room or command center. The console he'd been laying on turned out to be "Helm" and "Navigation." They tried talking to the computer, but it only told them the memory banks were offline. It was a surprise when the woman showed up. Some kind of access panel popped open on the floor between the helm and the viewscreen, and she emerged, leveling some sort of weapon. She was dressed like they were, in some kind of uniform, which was something he hadn't really noticed about everyone in the room. It seemed like they should do something to get things fixed, but how could they know if they weren't doing more harm than good? They each assessed different consoles. Together, they learned there were multiple hull breaches, compromised shields, and bulkheads isolating damaged areas. Warp power and weapons were offline, but the ship was being powered by something called impulse engines. The computer core and communications seemed to be offline, but thrusters worked. It looked like they'd been attacked, but if so, why was there no sign of intruders? Why was no one shooting at them, trying to finish them off? It was the woman who made the next connection: If someone had crippled them, they might be back; it was up to the three of them to try and get the ship working. The other man had suggested getting warp power online, but the display showed Main Engineering was many levels below them on Deck 19. They would have to split up, but who should go? It was only then they noticed the few things that were different about their uniforms. The man in the center had a shoulder strap and turtleneck that were white, while Leslie's and the woman's were gray. Glancing around, they saw gold and green collars on some of the unconscious people. More importantly, the three of them had a decorative pin on their shoulder, but they weren't the same either. The man in the center had one that was more ornate, with three gold bars across it. Leslie noticed his own was box-shaped, with two inward-pointing chevrons, and a single gold bar. The woman had two small triangles, tipped with gold. There was no way of telling what these meant, but it seemed obvious the man in the center was in charge. That suggested who should stay and who should go. They studied the large Master Situation Display, noticing the pattern of gangways and tubes that interlaced the ship. Going first, Leslie lowered himself onto the rungs that would lead them to engineering. The woman followed. He could only hope that somehow, they could remember what to do, find someone who did, or locate instructions. He had no way of drawing on the extensive cross-training he'd received on almost every engineering and security system of this class. No, it wasn't going to be that easy. Descending as the woman closed the hatch above them, Leslie almost stepped on someone coming up the rungs. "Uh, hello?" came the voice below. Leslie returned the greeting, glad to see another face, even if it wasn't familiar. He had no way of knowing he'd just run into Dr. Michael Poldara, but this time, it wouldn't have made things any easier. And it wasn't going to get that way anytime soon.

Ryan C. Leslie, Lieutenant Commander Bridge Duty Officer, USS Challenger NCC-2457 Species : Human Gender : male Born : 2239 Service Record 2259: Entered Starfleet Academy 2265: USS Enterprise (NCC-1701), bridge engineer, security, various duties 2266: Promoted to Lieutenant 2268: Entered Inactive Status 2290: USS Excelsior, security chief 2292: USS Lexington, helmsman 2293: USS Enterprise-B, assistant engineer 2294: USS Challenger, bridge duty officer Initial Career A highly versatile officer, Leslie currently serves as night duty officer aboard the Excelsior-class starship Challenger. Although he returned to Starfleet service after more than twenty years absence, Mr. Leslie has the distinction of having originally served aboard the starship Enterprise during its famed five-year mission. Aboard the Enterprise, Leslie was primarily assigned to the operations division, usually as bridge engineer or security officer. Due to his varied cross-training, he also assisted the ship as helmsman, science specialist, and briefly as a medical technician. In 2266, he received a field promotion to lieutenant, consistent with assuming the role of duty officer. He occasionally ran the bridge in the absence of other senior officers. In 2267, he received a commendation after surviving an attempt by Khan Noonian Singh to asphyxiate those on the bridge. Personal Leslie left the service in 2268 for personal reasons related to recurring injuries and desires to raise his family on Earth. He has a wife and four children. Return to Service Following the entry of his youngest child into Starfleet Academy, Leslie decided to return to active service in 2290. He was pleased to serve in the security department under command of former Enterprise veteran Hikaru Sulu during two years aboard the starship Excelsior. Somewhat bored with the lengthy mission to study gaseous anomalies, he transferred to the Constitution-refit Lexington and a new role as relief helmsman. While attending funeral services for Captain James T. Kirk on Earth in 2293, he learned from Montgomery Scott of openings aboard the newly re-launched Enterprise-B and applied for an assistant engineering position. After two years aboard, he was promoted to Lieutenant Commander and recommended by Captain Harriman for a transfer to operations and grooming toward command. He has since served aboard the Challenger as duty officer, frequently taking command of the bridge's night shift. Medical Leslie has survived a number of notable medical incidents. He was exposed to mind-altering spores on Omicron Ceti III and infected by viruses on both Psi 2000 and Omega VI. He was treated for severe frostbite and hypothermia after his landing party was stranded on Alfa 177 during a transporter malfunction. He was "absorbed" and mentally controlled by the Landru artificial intelligence on Beta III, but recovered after the computer's destruction. He was distilled into a geometric solid by Kelvan invaders, but later reconstituted. In the most dangerous incident, he was drained of red blood corpuscles by a dikironium cloud creature on Argus X. He was actually declared dead after this attack, but recovered when a treatment was devised that reversed the damage. Personality An affable individual, Leslie regularly socializes with fellow officers in his spare time. He enjoys three-dimensional chess, card tricks, and the music. He enjoys the recreation area and bars. Since he almost never makes reference to it, many crewman are unaware of his previous service aboard the Enterprise. Although he will not deny his involvement in that era, he prefers not to bring it up to avoid unseemly "name-dropping". Quiet and perfunctory when at his post, his off-duty conversation is more likely to describe his children's careers, places he's been, and vehicles he has worked to restore. Unsurprisingly, he is a great admirer of James Kirk - his only career regrets involve incidents of insubordination to him and not being able to serve with him longer. * * * * * [This NPC is based on the ubiquitous "Mr. Leslie" of the original Star Trek series, who appeared in no less than fifty TOS episodes, usually seen manning the engineering station on the bridge, just next to the turbolift doors. Leslie's "death" from the vampire cloud creature in TOS: Obsession is ignored only as much as the series itself did, since the actor appeared two more times later in the same show, as well as twelve subsequent episodes where he was referred to as Leslie (TOS: Assignment Earth, The Enterprise Incident, And The Children Shall Lead). The actor claims there was a scripted scene where McCoy cured him, but it was never shot. This bio assumes that scene is historical. This bio also assumes that Leslie left Starfleet after the Enterprise's famed five-year mission, consistent with the actor Eddie Paskey's departure from the show. The intervening years, including his return to service, are non-canon speculation from the author. No attempt has been made to reconcile other speculative fiction, which is itself contradictory.]

Based on player feedback from last week, Challenger intends to hold its regularly scheduled sim tonight (05/30), continuing our amnesia-related plot. However, absences will be excused.

They didn't know what hit them. In fact, they didn't know anything had hit them at all. As most of the crew of the starship Challenger roused from unconsciousness, they found they didn't know much at all - including the fact they were the crew of the starship Challenger. Disoriented, it had taken a few minutes for many of them to determine they were even on a ship. Others, awakening near a viewport or external scanner, had learned it quite abruptly, prompting surprise and confusion. Seemingly gone were the Orion pirates they had been chasing into this region of space, indeed all memory of the chase itself was gone. Blissfully unaware of any external or internal danger, those aboard put themselves to more immediate tasks of figuring out who they were, why they were there, and what had happened. Not recognizing their surroundings, or whether others were friend or foe, they met with varying degrees of success. A man and a woman considered the dinner spread before them in a private cabin and wondered if they were a couple, not knowing they were doctors who merely worked together professionally. An Irishman, assuming he'd awoken from a thorough bender, ran into a woman who'd gotten herself "lathered up" over the situation and questioned his sensibilities - neither of them aware of their respective roles as helmsman and chief science officer. A Vulcan and a human, abandoning cargo bays to wander among engineering decks, starting to realize they might themselves be the ship's personnel. An officer, alone on the phaser range, found she had instincts about the ship and decided to climb to the upper decks to see who was in charge. Two men, slowly learning they were in the ship's command center, were surprised to learn that the person who's skin had such an unnatural bluish tint was still breathing and had some sort of antenna protruding from his white hair. It seemed he wasn't even human. Some of them had found impassive bulkheads blocking their path. Most had found other unconscious people fallen in corridors, slumped over consoles, or collapsed into chairs. There were untended displays saying curious, but dangerous-sounding things like "shield compromised," "hull breach," or "plasma field integrity low". In trying to address the computer on the bridge, an automated voice had announced "the primary computer core is offline." And the ship itself didn't seem to be moving anywhere. In the short dawn since reawakening, there were more questions than answers. It remained to be seen whether one of the remaining mysteries would ultimately kill them all.

It was a lot to finish in eight hours. The Orion pirates they were seeking had been resourceful enough to ambush the Efrosian freighter and its dilithium cargo. They had enough firepower to take on the Nelson-class destroyer USS Taurus, which had first responded to the distress call. What they didn't have was enough strength or stupidity to confront an Excelsior-class ship of the line. When Challenger had emerged from warp, the Orions hadn't simply tried to escape. They would have learned quickly that the transwarp experiment – although they'd failed to produce a stable drive – had taught the Federation field techniques that made the Excelsior-class among the fastest ships in the Quadrant. No, the Orion carrier had been smart. They had used their fighters to harass the Taurus, splitting Challenger's attention. They had put the freighter between themselves and the Federation starship, screening themselves from its phasers. They had used tractor beams on the cargo pods, ripping them from the freighter and spilling life that Challenger would either stay to save or abandon to asphyxiate. The Orion ship had gotten away. Challenger had lingered long enough to make repairs and stabilize both damaged ships, then made a hasty pursuit. They'd found a tenuous trail, followed it, and found the first of the lifepods warning them not to come any closer. If they didn't break off, they'd find a string of corpses inside more lifepods, like breadcrumbs. Captain Seiben had taken the prudent choice and stopped. Conferring, the bridge crew had made a new suggestion. They would return to the wounded freighter, repair it, redress it as a different ship, and see if they could lure the Orions into a second attack. Now, eight hours later, it was done. Challenger had hidden itself in the sensor scattering effects of a nearby protostar. The disguised freighter had been towed nearby, already set to send out a distress call with a fake transponder signal. M'Guire was over there, with Reed and a contingent of Marines, waiting to see if the Orions would take the bait. The question was, would they?

They had taken the bait. After a two-day wait, with the re-dressed freighter squawking its distress signal like a wounded bird, the Orion ship had made a tentative approach. They had used some kind of EMP device as a vanguard, crippling the freighter's unprotected systems and leaving it ripe for boarding. Small fighter craft had surrounded the blinded transport. Only then had the Orion carrier ship advanced. Challenger, obscured by the molecular cloud of a forming protostar, had observed with its passive long-range sensors. Before the Orion's could get close enough to attempt boarding, the Excelsior-class starship had pounced from its hiding place, surprising the pirates. There were no strategic surprises this time, just a sudden stop before retreating. In their haste to back away, the Orions hadn't even waited to retrieve their fighter craft. They'd backed away without so much as a show of defiance, trying to escape at warp. But there was little chance of that. Knowing it carried some of the fastest warp engines in the Quadrant, Challenger had taken time to pick up the Marines and bridge crew that had been bravely ready to protect their lure. Within moments, the ship and its reunited crew had leapt to pursuit speed. It must have been clear to the Orions they were about to be overtaken, since they moved into an evasive spiral, then angled toward a binary pair of white and brown dwarves -- remnants of a burned-out system. The captain had opted to confront the pirates then, before they could try and hide among any asteroids or debris in there. "Lock onto their engines," Seiben had ordered, "and fire one of our wake-homing torpedoes." Gripping the railing, Ba'alyo watched the sparkling red sphere shoot out, hurtling toward the fleeing ship. The Orion pirates were about to feel the reach of Federation justice.

[The following log is a post-mission analysis that takes place just before Challenger's departure from 892-IV, before their interception of the Orion pirates attacking the USS Taurus and the dilithium freighter.] Commander Ba'alyo leaned away from the small desk in his cabin, rubbing his shoulder through the white fabric of his command turtleneck. He had just completed the lengthy post-mission report required by Starfleet. The text stood out brightly against the dark background of his display. More than a month ago, the starship Challenger had been sent here to 892-IV -- dubbed "Magna Roma" for its parallels to Earth's Roman civilization -- with orders to assess the culture and determine the viability of trade relations. Those orders had seemed ill-conceived at the time, since previous contact by the starship Enterprise had assessed the planet at a comparative 20th Century state of development, non-warp capable and largely unaware of off-world life. The Prime Directive would effectively prohibit open contact, much less negotiation. But that was before Magna Roma had broadcast a subspace communication inviting the Federation to return, open dialogue, and observe upcoming "warp trials." Challenger had been dispatched to respond to these overtures, with a plan to also investigate the origin of such unexpected technological leaps. Over the ensuing weeks in orbit, Challenger had learned much. There had been missteps and awkward explanations, but facts were clearer and ties had begun to form. Momentous shifts had started. The Romans were reconsidering their beginnings and reimagining their future. Ba'alyo leaned forward, reviewing the bullets in his report preface and reflected on their accomplishments: Trade Relations. Over the course of meetings with Consul Marcus Quintus, Captain Seiben had established the groundwork for a future exchange of iridium and titanium. He had also made it clear that off-world slave trading would not be welcomed. First Contact. Although the Roman government had been aware of the Federation through visits by the starship Enterprise and the wrecked SS Beagle, Consul Quintus chose this visit to introduce his subjects to the existence of off-world life and a larger galactic community. He had mentioned that their Rome of antiquity might be "out there", as well. The announcement would be a defining moment in their history. Planets and cultures often surged forward or imploded on the stress of such paradigm shifts. Cultural Contamination. Tours of Roman facilities and interviews with the Consul had confirmed their leaps in technology had been spurred by external influence. Knowledge of subspace itself was gained from communicators purloined from Enterprise officers during their captivity. From this, the Romans had made contact with the Klingons and bartered for basic warp technology. The poor quality material and limited schematics they were given meant successful warp trials might still be decades away. Beagle Survivors. During an industrial tour, Challenger officers confirmed some members of the Beagle crew were not forced into the gladiator arena. (Thirty years ago, Merikus had reportedly told Captain Kirk that "those who were able to adapt are still alive".) Although known to the Roman government, these survivors managed to remain low-key, avoiding societal interference. None were willing to leave the connections and relationships forged over three decades of life among the Romans; Challenger made no effort to coerce them. Ba'alyo found himself nodding. It had been a successful mission, he had to admit. In addition to these mission parameters, they had made two unexpected achievements: Challenge to Hodgkin's Theory. Challenger teams had gathered archeological, historical, and biological evidence suggesting that -- rather than a classic example of Hodgkin's Theory of Parallel Development -- Magna Roma was instead a transplanted culture plucked from Earth, relocated across light-years (an epic "Great Journey"), and genetically altered to integrate with the biosphere of 892-IV. Lessard had confirmed they shared identical histories until the reign of the Emperor Hadrian, then found significant divergence. Savros' team had confirmed this on the ground, noting from ruins and artifacts that the Roman civilization was barely a millennia old. Dr. Juno had reviewed multiple samples to find genetic markers added to the otherwise identical human DNA. It was still unclear who the architects of this relocation were, but research centered on either the legendary Preservers or the godlike travelers enshrined in the Greek and Roman pantheons of Earth. Data from the Challenger visit might spur debate for years to come. Political Marriage. Consul Quintus had deemed negotiations successful enough to offer his own sister in marriage to Captain Seiben, a gesture many members of the crew were surprised to see accepted. With the new bride formally designated as Ambassador of Magna Roma to the Federation, this action was a clear sign of Roman interest in securing good relations. He folded his arms. Despite all their gains, it was this last item that was sure to get the immediate attention of Starfleet Headquarters. Despite Ba'alyo's public support for the captain, he privately feared the Admiralty would voice objections. Such arrangements were not uncommon on many Federation worlds, including his own, but they might frown on such direct involvement of an officer in seeking -- he cleared his throat unconsciously -- closer relations. Did the captain's actions, he wondered, fall into the lists of missteps during their mission? In spite of orders to conduct a covert surveillance, Lieutenant Savros had run into a team of Roman archeologists and revealed his team's off-world origins to them. The Vulcan had offered himself for reprimand, but Ba'alyo had been disinclined to pursue it. Revealing themselves was not what Ba'alyo would have done in a similar circumstance, but Command School taught him that one must trust officers on the ground. For one, the Consul's announcement had eliminated the restrictions of the Prime Directive. For another, Savros had chosen a well-educated group, who were willing to contain the exposure and help with their efforts. He may very well have laid the groundwork for future studies. At almost the same time, Major Kimiko had been captured by native law enforcement and pressed into the arena. Although the Marine commandant was well-known for her shore leave run-ins with security, this exposure was hardly her fault. Still, it was difficult to explain her illicit presence on the surface, especially once her stint in the gladiator ring was televised. First Lieutenant Teros had only compounded the incursion with his unwise assault on the Roman guards. The Andorian had already suffered for his mistake, through both physical wounds and a dressing down from the Major. There was little need to revisit it. Despite the stumbles, Ba'alyo had seen real officer thinking during this mission. Poldara and Lessard had led ground-breaking dialogue on studying Magna Roma origins; they'd done outstanding work. Savros had followed this up with concrete challenges to earlier assumptions. M'Guire had shadowed the captain and shown real talent with diplomatic interactions -- he was probably ready for more off-bridge stints. And though she still had to be prodded to get off the ship, Reed had shown greater versatility. It was time to consider expanding her role beyond the navigation console. Ba'alyo had been pleased to suggest commendations for all of them. Challenger had learned much. The Romans had moved into early 21st Century development. Their rulers seemed more egalitarian and less dictator-like, but their society retained a slave class, public deathmatches, and a cultural superiority complex. Given how the Consul had bristled at the suggestion that their deities might be merely advanced space travelers, Roman entry into the galactic community might be quite a shock for them. They might not be ready to meet species like the Klingons, who would scoff at their assumptions of superiority. Ba'alyo leaned back, feeling the gauzy robe that was still folded over the armrest. He laughed at himself. He'd been one of only a few officers who'd gone to the final send-off party in native attire. "When in Rome," Harris had said, quoting some human aphorism about adopting indigenous customs. He mused on the saying. "When in space," he said aloud to, "it might be time to leave Roman customs behind." Inwardly, he wondered if 892-IV could do it. Didn't his own people still have trouble with that? With sudden resolve, he thumbed the send button. Standing, he grabbed his burgundy jacket and headed for the bridge - where the dictates of custom and duty suited him just fine.

Commander Zen Ba'alyo found himself fretting as he moved down the corridor toward the transporter room. Consul Quintus had made a momentous announcement to the citizens of Magna Roma: they were not alone in the universe. The announcement would be a defining moment in their history. Planets and cultures often surged forward or imploded on the stress of such paradigm shifts; they seldom remained static. His own homeworld had only possessed this knowledge for a few decades. He had been only a youth when knowledge of the Federation had come to his world. The starship Intrepid, with its all-Vulcan crew, had visited Efros Delta IV during the second year of their ill-fated five-year mission. It was an historic visit, granting them awareness of the larger galactic community. It was a mark of that community's openness that his world had been granted admittance soon after. He had been joined its Starfleet Academy. One of his own race now governed this same Federation as its President. But that visit had also shattered myths and worldviews - religions and individuals and psychologies and philosophies had to grapple with the realities. They weren't quite done with it, in fact. The transporter room doors parted and Ba'alyo unfastened the shoulder clasp of his jacket. No sense looking overly militaristic, he reasoned, tossing it aside and wearing only the white turtleneck. Marcus Quintus had revealed to his fellow-citizens that there was a place "out there" where the Roman culture may have come from. But were they ready to accept alien races, foreign technologies, and challenges to their worldview? He stepped up on the pad, nodding to the chief. Their covert observation of the culture had been quite exposed. Kimiko had been captured and forced to fight in the arena. Teros had unwisely tried to subdue a Roman guard and been severely injured in the attempt. Savros had revealed himself and his mission to a group of native scientists. As Ba'alyo felt the now-familiar dematerialization begin, he wondered - How much change would the Romans accept at once? * * * * * The noticeable tension had taken over the archaelogical party. It seems Savros' sudden decision to remain at the ruins of the ancient city had created a stir. The Roman stood over by their vehicle and spoke softly amongst themselves. Ensign Freeman wondered if they could share something in common. "Shall we light a fire?" Lucius turned from his colleagues and looked inquisitively at the off worlders. "You don't find it too hot for a fire?" Freeman started to speak then realized his mistake. He smiled inwardly remembering his survival course at Starfleet academy. It had never been his best subject, but the professor had complemented him on his solar oven. He didn't trust uncooked food. "Actually, I find it rather comfortable," stated Savros, "My home planet is a desert." "A desert world? How did your race evolve?" one of the Romans inquired. "Much as any other. We evolved over millenia and adapted to our environment until we had developed traits well suited for the desert," he explained. "For example, my eyes can tolerate more intense light than that of humans." One of the Romans moved to the ground vehicle and pulled out a tool box. He put it on the ground and took a seat. "I don't know about the rest of you, but I want to talk." He looked around at the others. One by one they found a seat, except for Lucius who seemed to prefer to stand. "I am Oxavius; this is Lucius, Publius, Gaius, and Spurius." He gestured to each of his colleages. "And Decima," remembering the female in their group. "As Lucius told you, we are researching in Antiquities and charged with the preservation of this ruin of a city," he waved his arms around. "Now, what brought you here?" Having materialized a discreet distance away, Ba'alyo took the opening in the conversation to step into view. "I think I can answer that," he offered. The Romans immediately took to their feet, staring at the white haired arrival. For a moment, Ba'alyo wondered if his reddish-copper skin and light hair would be considered as a possible human variant or yet another alien. Lieutenant H.G. Reed got to her feet. "Commander... we were just discussing... uh..." she stopped herself unsure of what to say about what was surely a violation of regulations. The whole discussion was a bad idea. If she'd been in charge, they would have beamed back to the ship. The executive officer raised his hand. Ba'alyo was uncomfortable with the situation, but knew he'd have to adapt to unforseen circumstances. Officers on the ground had to use their own judgment, he repeated from his command training. Turning back to the Romans, "We received a transmission that caught our attention. That's what brought us here." He specifically did not mention the ship in orbit, choosing to use caution in revealing too much about themselves at once. "Of course, we have been sending transmissions into space for some 50 years!" interjected Lucius. Ba'alyo glanced aside, not wanted to correct the misunderstanding. "As your Consul mentioned in the broadcasts, we share a mutual interest in your origins. We think there may be clues to that buried at this site." His voice grew quiet. "We thought we were being discreet in coming somewhere so remote. We haven't finished looking and we don't know if we're ready to share our theories just yet." He gestured with an outstretched hand. "Could you be convinced to wait until we've finished our research to make a report? Could you help us?"

"By their own reckoning, they're in the 18th Century AUC," Ensign Isaac Spencer explained from the Communications console. With Lessard down on Magna Roma as part of the diplomatic team, Spencer was serving as her relief. "Anno urbis conditae - it means since the founding of Rome," Spencer added. "So their Rome has been a Republic and then an Empire for almost two thousand years old." Since their arrival, Challenger had been tapping into the planet's public networks and eavesdropping on various educational and entertainment broadcasts to learn about Magna Roma history, both recent and ancient. Captain Seiben, however, had successfully requested access to the official Imperial archives from Consul Marcus Quintus. The data was being reviewed by specialists from several disciplines - linguists, anthropologists, cosmologists, and historians like Spencer. Commander Zen Ba'alyo looked at the ensign, leaning in. "What does that tell us?" "Well, we'd already reported an apparent point of divergence," Spencer toggled the display of a timeline, "sometime after the reign of the emperor Hadrian. His is the last name shared chronologically between our Earth history and theirs. That's around 888 AUC." Ba'alyo raised his eyebrows, expectantly. "So, if they are an example of Hodgkin's parallel development, their history branched off during the equivalent of Earth's early second century A.D.," Spencer explained. "That event, whatever it was, is the key to why their Rome never fell. Before Hadrian, we see references to identical battles, mythology, even named individuals. After that, new people, new place names, things not in Earth history." "And what if we weren't talking Hodgkins?" Spencer blinked, looking cautiously around the bridge. "Ensign," Ba'alyo pressed, "does this database support or refute alternate theories such as transplantation or cultural contamination?" Spencer shook his head. "I haven't really looked at the data that way, but..." Ba'alyo stepped away, leaning back against the inner railing. "But?" The ensign took a breath. "There's some indication that they consider their early history as myth," he ventured, "but the real Romans did that, too - the Aeneid may be great literature, but Rome wasn't really founded by Trojan sons of the god Mars." Ba'alyo frowned again. "I don't understand your point, Ensign." Spencer swiveled his chair around to face the Efrosian executive officer. "It comes down to tangible evidence," he explained, "like Schlieman unearthing the ruins of Troy." He went on. "If the pre-Hadrian history isn't theirs," he suggested, "if it was the result of someone exposing this world to it or bringing Romans of that era, well, you wouldn't find any evidence of Roman civilization older than a millennia. There'd be nothing covering those first eight hundred years from the founding of Rome, even if their histories mention it. Of course, if there was already a civilization here and new people just showed up, the Roman culture might be centered on some kind of landing site." Spencer shrugged. "All speculation, of course, sir." Ba'alyo nodded, stroking his pale facial hair. He thought about the discreet archeological survey he'd authorized Lieutenant Savros to conduct. The Vulcan had already gone down, sufficiently disguised. It seemed they were already pursuing the most likely avenues of discovery. He felt a surge of pride in the crew. "Good analysis, Ensign," he praised. "See if you can find out more about this 'divergent event' you mentioned." Spencer nodded and swung his chair back toward the console. Ba'alyo turned away, looking toward Reed at navigation and thinking about her comments on the Preservers. Was there a way to prove their involvement? Or disprove it? Mentally, he mocked himself. He wondered if he was letting his personal, metaphysical issues with A. E. Hodgkin's theories force his mind toward alternate origin concepts. Certainly Hodgkin's groundbreaking work explained the prevalence of biological similarities on disparate worlds, but its sociological extensions were far more controversial for their ramifications. Did the existence of termites on Loracus Prime really explain how 892-IV could be governed by the 21st Century version of an Earth empire that fell thousands of years ago? Right down to the language? Right down to the names and physical similarities of historical individuals? Academy textbooks referred to this world as a "classic" example of Hodgkin's theory. But was it? Some of the basis for that conclusion seemed unproven. How could a world be identical long enough to create a duplicate Julius Caesar, but diverge away from a Renaissance or the abolition of slavery? He could understand theories that contemplated mirror dimensions or alternate quantum realities, but replica worlds in the same galaxy? And why were there no parallel Efros out there? Was Earth somehow more likely or important? It was a logical exercise that needed more evidence, in any case, he reasoned. But the question wasn't only how these Romans came to be, but where they were going. Challenger seemed no closer to answering how the Romans had acquired a knowledge of subspace communication and warp propulsion. Or why they were interested in opening a dialogue with barbarian offworlders. He walked around the outer ring of the bridge, wondering how they could unravel that question. Parallel activities, he mused, and stepped down toward the vacant center seat. They'd just have to navigate them all.

The Vulcan knelt in front of him, scooping up soil and rolling it in his fingers. Small pebbles and dirt sprinkled out between them, falling to the ground. The Starfleet captain behind him mused at the tactile quality of the gesture, knowing it was not the most scientific of methods. The Vulcan's shoulder cloak parted as he stood and reached toward the uniformed lieutenant beside him. "If I may borrow your tricorder," he asked evenly, not looking back. The Excelsior science officer looked back at his captain, uncertain about relinquishing possession of his portable sensing device. "Go on," Captain Sulu prompted his junior officer, "and pay attention. Mr. Spock can do more with a tricorder than some people can do with an orbital telescope." Sulu watched Spock accept the tricorder graciously, without commenting on the exaggeration. Still, he saw the trace of bemusement in the otherwise placid face - this was, after all, the one who taught him that Vulcans had a sense of humor. Sulu stepped closer, looking up at the massive empty structure in front of them. With a walled bailey, wind-blown parapets, and moss-covered stone, it looked like the images of a sprawling European castle of Earth's feudal period. Cool mists drifted over the taller towers. "Anything?" he asked. Spock shook his head. "Confirming your orbital scans," he recited. "No residual energy or forms of intelligent life." He glanced around at the familiar setting. "This structure and the surrounding flora seem solid, but they may simply be an illusion maintained for our benefit. If real, it seems unlikely these walls could have survived the eons of erosion that have occurred since the Organians evolved away from corporeal form." Sulu nodded. On his previous visit to the system, he'd been too busy dealing with an arriving Klingon invasion fleet to make a planetside visit. Captain Kirk had left him in command of the Enterprise with strict orders to break orbit and alert the fleet if the Klingons arrived. In the end, he'd been forced to obey those orders, abandoning the landing party. "Hello!" bellowed the Excelsior science officer loudly, catching Sulu's attention. "Lieutenant," Spock chided with a wry look, "the Organians are beings capable of affecting events across interstellar distances. It is likely they are aware of our presence, but if not, it is equally unlikely they could be summoned by something as rudimentary as a loud voice." He handed back the tricorder. The lieutenant shrugged. "It didn't hurt," he offered. "So, nobody home," Sulu surmised. "There are two possibilities," Spock concluded. "They are unable to respond," he paused, "they are unwilling to respond." "Because they don't want to involve themselves in our affairs, or they just left," Sulu rephrased. "It may be impossible to determine," Spock considered aloud. "The Organians may lack observable technology, but their science is quite capable of manipulating our sensors." Sulu stepped up, looking into the sun-dappled slopes and forest beyond. "It looks quite unspoiled." He looked back to the Vulcan. "Perhaps we should leave visit restrictions in place, out of respect?" "That is, of course, a command decision," Spock deferred, "but a prudent one." He went on. "They did indicate that contact with physical beings was uncomfortable to them," Spock noted, pulling his cloak closed against the brisk breeze. Lieutenant Commander Rand walked up the grassy hill toward them, her communicator out. "Shall I inform the Klingons of our findings?" she asked. "Or our lack of them?" Sulu nodded, then looked up. For their own reasons, the Klingons in orbit had chosen not to beam down to the surface. "Go ahead, Janice," he affirmed. "We'll take a few more minutes, then return to the ship." Excelsior was scheduled to bring Spock to Qo'noS for talks on ensuring the post-Organian peace. If he left visit restrictions in place, Sulu knew it might be a century before a starship was allowed to venture back into the system. For the moment, it seemed the Organian chapter of Federation history was closed.

I don't know if it qualifies, but the Challenger sim seems to have its fair share of TOS fans. myself among them. Although we're based in the TOS-movie era, we've sailed around in the fragile post-Praxis Klingon detente, had a lengthy Elasian/Troyian storyline over the summer, saw a shift in the Organian Treaty, and even a cameo visit from Scotty (shortly before his disapperance). We've got one of the least developed time periods (from a Trek canon perspective), so it's nice to set up future events for TNG/DS9 future, extrapolate 30 years after TOS events, and make up our own stuff. But I admit, it's the TOS connections I like the best. (Although the burgundy uniforms are still the coolest.)