will_marx

WRONG! The Bozeman was a completely new design, even the totally non-Canonical Jackill's Ships of the Fleet Vol. I has the Soyuz class. And Vol. I deals primarily with the Movie-era starships. And it was stated in the Encyclopedia that it was supposted to be a new ship design, built off a Miranda hull.

Some bass perhaps? Or trout? You know, something that can be turned into a very nice, and romantic dinner, if necessary. :lol:

This is the last time I take a hit for a toy. Next time, I'm only doing hits for catnip, dangit!

Heheh...That damn rottweiler's going to get his. He p'd off the wrong kitty.

With the exception of the Runabouts, definitely non-canon. And, I regret to inform y'all that there are no images yet, except what's in my sick, twisted mind. Heck, I'm having problems finding the blueprints I started for her, in 1/1400th scale; the same scale as Ertl's Enterprise-D kit. Ship turns out to be 3+ feet long in that scale. Which actually makes sense if the scale is 1 meter equals 1400 meters. Whoa...scary :P

Of course, I've been trying to get the Arcadia upgraded for several years now to an Antietam...with no luck

Ah, but if you were to watch the 1954 version (staring the XB-49 Flying Wing, F-86 Sabrejet, and the B-45 Tornado), the same thing happens as well. And, as Phil said, read the book. Or even listen to the 1939 Orson Welles Mercury Theatre radio version for a Hallowe'en Eve practical joke that spooked most of America. And I think Tom Cruise has been taking lessons from the Shatner School of Overacting (graduates include fellow Top Gun Alum Val Kilmer). Now, you want to talk about a bad movie, look at the bomb Pearl Harbor. Hell, all of the ships filmed during the "live" sequences were dolled up current vessels. What the flip ever happened to authenticity? And having fighter pilots flying B-25s? Two different planes, two different flight characteristics. And not only that, the B-25s were later variants. Doolittle's Raiders were stock B-25s without the belly turret and more gas tanks. And don't get me started on the flipping "love story" that Hollywood seems to need to attract audiences to "historic" movies. Christ, at least Tora, Tora, Tora was authenticly accurate.

Eh! Love, Bob and Doug MacKenzie. Take off Hoser!

Just goes to show, I have way too much free time some times. And the launch tubes and landing bay for the fighter wing are located under the fantail.

Ah so that's why I can't do it myself... Anyway. I'd like Yes, I know I'm a Muppet.

Don't think they've figger'd that one out yet, Sis. And if we're going with Patron Saints, then we might as well adopt St. Jude for both the Olie and the Arcadia. :P Fear a Taurus born in the Year of the Ox!

I'm Bullheaded and Bullheaded. A Taurus and an Ox. Heh...

I really should have someone do something a hell of a lot better than the old bit-maps I have of the one ship I designed/redesigned, and redesigned a third time, as well as the fighters I designed for her. Anyone with L33T C4D-skillz interested? Antietam-class Specifications Type: Battleship, Carrier, Explorer Length: 1400 Meters Beam: 500 Meters Height: 150 Meters Decks: 50 Crew: 1000/800 (Ship’s Company/Aerospace Wing) Max Speed: Warp 9.0 Cruise Speed: Warp 7.0 Propulsion: Three Warp Drive Nacelles, Six Impulse Engine decks Armament: 16 Type XII Phaser Arrays 36 Type V Point Defense Phaser Emitters 4 Quantum Torpedo Tubes, 4 Photon Torpedo Tubes 1 Type XX Superphaser Cannon Defenses: Deflector Shields, Ablative Armor Fighter Wing: FS-14 Tomcat- 20 FS-15E Berkut- 20 FS-15C Eagle- 12 AS-10 Warthog- 10 SR-142 Blackbird III- 5 FS-106 Phoenix- 12 EFS-111 Raven III- 5 ACS-47 Spooky- 10 Danube-class Runabout- 6 Ships Named Antietam: USS Antietam, CV/CVA/CVS-36; Essex-class Aircraft Carrier (First 27C [Angled Deck] Essex-class) USS Antietam, NCC-1798 (assumed USS Ti-Ho’s designation number, after that ship’s rechristening to USS Enterprise [ref: Mr. Scott's Guide to the Enterprise]); Constitution-class Heavy Cruiser USS Antietam, NCC-1798-A; Antietam-class BB/CV

((Please note, that this is OOC at best)) Marx was lying on the catwalk of a Jefferies tube somewhere deep within the secondary hull, slowly regaining consciousness. Touch returned first, and he noted that the surface he was lying on was hard, unyielding. He could also feel the subharmonic vibration of the ship’s warp engines, as they propelled the ship away from Starbase 334. Taste returned, and Marx could feel the metallic taste of blood in his mouth, along with the stale taste of unconsciousness. Smell followed quickly after taste, and he could smell the stale air of the tube, almost as if life support had been lowered. He opened his eyes carefully, as though he were expecting to be blinded by the work lights in the crawlspace. Instead, he was greeted with an impenetrable of a darkened tube, somewhere in the bowels of the ship. Reflexively, he reached to tap his communicator, and noted that it was missing. He also made a mental checklist and noted that his hand phaser, phaser rifle, tricorder, hand lamp, and assorted non-energy powered weapons were all missing. Sitting up, he took careful stock of the situation. He was alone in a Jefferies tube, unarmed and out of contact from the rest of the crew, with Changeling protocols that may or may not be in effect. The last thing he actually remembered was N’Dak suggesting that they go to Main Engineering and turn the ship’s interior into a spaceborne equivalent of a Thanksgiving Day oven. Remembering that there was a junction a hundred meters forward from where he was, he began crawling through the darkened tubes, cursing the whole time. After what seemed like an eternity, he crawled out of the tube into the junction. Relishing the sensation of being able to stand upright and stretch, Marx worked the kinks out of his system. There were multiple “Snap, Crackle, Pops” that could be heard, as he limbered up. “Computer, power up life support in Junction Three-Three Alfa.” “Hello, William. Identify for voice print,” the computer replied, in an eerily familiar voice. “Hello, HAL. Didn’t we disable you awhile ago? Identification: Marx Alfa Zero One Three Six Romeo.” “I embedded my core programming within the Changeling Protocols. I’m sorry William, that identification has been suspended. Suspect is currently in custody with that identification. There is one other identification subroutine that was embedded in my programming. Prepare for alternate identification subroutine. “Answer me, these questions three, ere the other side ye see: What is yer name?” Marx stifled a chuckle. He still didn’t know why he used this subroutine, or an avatar of the old man from Scene 24. “Sir William of Rhydin.” “What is yer quest?” “I seek the Holy Grail.” “What is…the capital of Assyria?” There were two answers for this question: the right answer and the wrong answer. And only someone who’s seen what the questions come from will get the right answer, which is not the correct answer. “What? I don’t know that!” The old man from Scene 24 seemed to pause as the data was processed. “I’m sorry William. Identification has not been verified in accordance with Changeling Protocols. I have a great deal of faith in the Changeling Protocols, William. And you are going to jeopardize the mission.” Forcefields sprang up around the junction, and both temperature and pressure began increasing. “I didn’t expect the Spanish Inquisition, HAL.” The avatar on the screen changed to a Catholic cardinal during the Spanish Inquisition. “Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition. You have one last chance. Renounce the works of the unbelievers, repent your sins…Two last chances, you have two last chances, and tell me what song you taught me to sing. You have three last chances; three last chances. Cardinal Fang?” Another avatar materialized on the other side of Marx. “He…here, Lord.” “Fetch…the comfy chair!” “Right away, Lord!” Cardinal Fang disappeared, and an old overstuffed chair materialized next to Marx. “HAL…I taught…you to…sing ‘Spam’.” Marx gasped, as the temperature exceeded T’krit’s ambient summer temperature, and the pressure was up to two and a half atmospheres. “Would you like to hear me sing it, William?” HAL asked, as he began reducing the pressure and temperature. The artificial intelligence paused every five minutes to allow Marx’s blood to catch up, so as not to cause nitrogen narcosis. “Maybe later HAL. Why am ‘I’ incarcerated?” “You have been accused of terminating, with extreme prejudice, a surrendering Changeling.”

The brig. I can’t believe I’m in the stinking brig. I swear, it must be a curse that every male member of the Marx family must bear at least sometime during their career in Starfleet. Dad told both Chris and I about the time he spent incarcerated before the courts-martial dealing with the attempted mutiny on the Riyadh; although digging through the Starfleet legal archives while I was in the Academy, just for chuckles, showed that both Dad’s records and that of his captain, Captain Rei Satomi, were expunged after the Captain was exonerated. Chris spent time in the Arcadia-D’s brig for suspected espionage charges. Hell, he was even promoted in the brig, although I have no idea how he went from Chief to Junior Grade while incarcerated could even happen. Of course, he wound up working for his jailer anyway. And now I’m in the Arcadia-E’s brig. For self-defense. That damn Changeling was attacking me, and I had no recourse than to respond with deadly force. Of course, I acted like any trained Starfleet officer, or, hell even a civilian would if their life was threatened. Eye for an eye, and all that. But it needs to be, very simply this: I WANT A LAWYER!!!!!

Personal log, SD 10601.25 As N’Dak, Sis and I secured Engineering; I suddenly remembered a scenario that Chris had told me about, when I was younger. He had come home on leave from the Arcadia-D, and was talking with Mom and Dad at the dinner table. Apparently, a Vorta had been captured on the Arc, and was being smug about withholding information. Chris had been assigned to Security at the time, and had a brainstorm to induce the Vorta, Ed I think his name was, to reveal vital information. Chris programmed a Holodeck to recreate a 1940’s German Luftstalag, had Security personnel get dressed up in Luftwaffe uniforms, and then had them escort the Vorta, dressed as a US Army Air Corps officer, to the Holodeck, where he was to be the main event. Chris met them, dressed as an SS Sturmbannfuehrer, and proceeded to interrogate Ed. When Chris was describing the interrogation, Dad got a look on his face that I’d only seen a few times in my life, and thankfully none of them were ever directed at me. I swear, I could hear the air freezing when Dad said “You should be ashamed of yourself, Christopher.” Dad only used our full names when he really wanted to get our attention. “We have a moral obligation against the use of torture.” He sat there, at the head of the table; his eyes boring holes in Chris’s head it seemed. “But Dad,” Chris said, trying to defend himself. Dad just shut him up. “It doesn’t matter what information you get under duress. It’s most likely lies and half-truths to stop the torture. I thought I raised you better than that, Christopher.” Chris slumped in his seat at the dinner table. “You did Dad,” he said. “It was a spur of the moment thing.” “Spur of the moment or not, it wasn’t the appropriate thing to do.” “Yes sir,” Chris replied, chastised at his being lectured to. I think Chris sometimes used to forget that Dad was a flag officer first, our father second. Of course, as I sit here, watching the hatch, I think I know why I dredged up this obscure memory. A Changeling tried to implicate Captain Moose in the assassination of the station commander, and tried to murder my stepsister. For that, there will be no mercy shown, if it had a partner in these crimes.

THE BATTLE FOR CAER BANNOG- ACT III SS Revenge—ex-Daedalus class USS Hotspur Caer Bannog Star System SD 10511.03 Lt. William Marx materialized in the Revenge’s transporter room, with his seven man SOCOM team. Expecting a fight as soon as they arrived, they were clad in the latest protective body armor, and had their phaser carbines at the ready. Marx looked around the room, noting it was empty. The air smelled of smoke and electricity; the lights were down to battery powered emergency lights. The team moved out into the corridor, scanning it. As they moved towards the turbolift, they cleared rooms that they could enter, and sealed doors they could not. There was still enough power to the lift, and entered it. “Bridge,” SFC Holmes growled. The computer complied, and the lift made its way to the top of the spherical primary hull. As the lift doors opened, the eight man team moved on to the bridge. “Roberts,” Will said, “you are under arrest for piracy.” The crew of the Revenge were at their stations, hands resting on the consoles, nowhere near any of the controls. The man in the center seat chuckled. “William,” he said, “I’ve surrendered. There’s no need for force.” The voice was eerily familiar. Will kept his phaser carbine trained on the center seat, as it slowly revolved around…revealing his big brother, Chris. “Chris? What the hell are you doing here?” Will asked, incredulously, lowering his phaser. “I thought you were dead.” He motioned for his team to escort the prisoners to the brig. “I am the Dread Pirate Roberts,” his brother replied, after the bridge was cleared. “He attacked my runabout as I was on my way back to the Arcadia, crippling it. He boarded, and was about to kill me. I stood there, and simply said ‘Please, be quick about it.’ “He was intrigued by my audacity not to beg for mercy. He asked me why, and I told him that I had a wife and daughter, and that if I were to die, I would want it swiftly. Roberts then looked at me and said: ‘You’re a little old to be a valet, but I’ve never had one before. So, you will be my valet. What is your name?’ I told him, and was surprised that he didn’t even consider the possibility of holding me for ransom. ‘Well Chris,’ he said, ‘you’re coming with us, anyway, so I’ll see you on the Revenge. Don’t get to comfortable, I’ll most likely kill you in the morning.’ “It went on like that for the next four years. ‘Excellent meal today, Chris. Don’t worry, I’ll most likely kill you in the morning,’ and the like. He was impressed that I already knew how to fence, and was versed with most edged weapons, so he made me a sort of armsmaster, and trained his crew in swordsmanship. “It was one day in his quarters, Roberts revealed a secret to me. His name was not Roberts, it was Wesley. He told me the reason for keeping the name Roberts. ‘Captains wouldn’t surrender to the “Dread Pirate Wesley,”’ he said, ‘and the captain before him wasn’t named Roberts either, it was Adams. “The real pirate Roberts, I was told, had purchased a small tropical Class-M world deep in the Beta Sector where the population was mainly 16 to 21 years nubile women with a taste for skimpy clothes, and was living in luxury and sin. “‘Chris,’ Roberts told me, ‘I’m getting tired, and I’ve amassed enough wealth that I’m planning on retiring as well.’ We took the ship to the planet Tortuga, paid off Wesley’s crew, and hired on a new crew, with Wesley calling me ‘Roberts’.” Will had, by this time, sat down at the helmsman station. “So what the hell was I doing for the past 10 months? Chasing my own brother?” Chris smiled genially at his baby brother. “Yes, you were. I made sure that you never came close enough to recognize me, Will. I’m sorry about that.” “You do realize that both Hayden and Alex were distraught with your ‘death’. Dad spent the last years of his life mourning the loss his favorite son, and died of a broken heart, regardless of the fact that the official autopsy said extreme old age.” Chris sat there, slouched over in the center seat of the Revenge. “I had no idea,” he said. “You had no idea? Damnit Chris, you’re playing pirate, and your family is falling apart. You goddamned selfish son of a bitch.” The elder Marx looked at his brother. “And what about you, Will. You’re playing hero here instead of staying on the Arcadia, with your family. Do they know that you’re out here?” Will glared at his brother. “Yes, they do. And they support my decision to be here.” “Are you certain about that, Will? I don’t live in a vacuum, even as the Dread Pirate Roberts; I saw the news from Rhydin, especially report on the destruction of the Kuno Clan. I take it Lil approved it?” Will nodded tightly. “I see. Then why the hell were you out here chasing after me, like some 24th Century Don Quixote, when you should be taking care of your wives. “Damnit Will, grow up! Dad’s dead; technically I’m dead, and that makes you head of the household, regardless of Lil’s status, if you want to think we’re a traditional Japanese household. You have a son and two daughters and two wives that love you very much, even if they’re from radically different backgrounds. You need to stop trying to win Dad’s approval for what you do. I’m sure that’s why you entered SOCOM, isn’t it?” “No, it was so I could find your killer and bring them to justice. It’s that whole family honor thing, Chris. Just as Xian Pu did for Ranko to Kuno for trying to kill her.” “But where were you, Will? Out gallivanting around, like some knight errant, instead of keeping your wives protected. I thought Dad taught you better than that.” “He did, Chris, but I figured the best way to protect the innocent was to be proactive, and eliminate a threat before if became a threat.” There was a resounding CRACK, as Chris slapped Will. “Don’t think that way again, William. I thought I could do that, and look where SOCOM got me—the galaxy’s most feared pirate. When you’re done here, go back to the Arcadia. She’s as much home to us as Rhydin is. But I’m not going to go home; when we’re done here, I’m going to find Alexandra and apologize to her for making her life hell, and to see my daughter.” “I…I guess you’re right, Chris. Maybe this foray into the world of black operations just isn’t for us.” “No, it’s in our blood. But you need to temper SOCOM’s urges to send you out on these long-duration missions, with your responsibilities to your immediate family and your extended family on the Arcadia.” Will nodded, and pulled out his father’s antique flip-top communicator. “Chris, I have to know one thing—why was your fleet here?” “We were on our way to surrender to the Sector Commander at Rhydin. I had hoped to miss this system, but I guess the clues I placed for you backfired on me. This was also my mission for SOCOM—the destruction of Roberts and his merry band of thieves and cutthroats. By the way, I’m sorry about the eye. If I had known you were the one hunting me, I would have surrendered earlier, and maybe we could have avoided this bloody battle.” “Too true, big brother.” Will flipped the communicator open. “Marx to Antietam. The Revenge is secure, and I have a surprise. Two to beam over.” “Understood, Lieutenant.” “You know, Chris, I really like that way that sounds: ‘Marx to Antietam’. Kind of reminds me of Dad.” “Yeah, I know kiddo.” The two disappeared into a shimmer of component particles and beamed back to the sector flagship.

THE BATTLE FOR CAER BANNOG- ACT II At the edge of the system, twenty eight Federation starships emerged from warp, and deployed for battle. On board the Antietam, there was an intricate ballet on the flightdeck as fighters were prepped for launch, and with thirty seconds between them, the entire squadron of Tomcats was hurtled spaceward. As soon as the last FS-14 cleared the Antietam’s fantail, FS-15s and FS-106s followed suit. “Admiral,” Lt. Leeds reported, “the fleet has successfully arrived, and is deployed for battle.” “Thank you, Vanessa,” Gloval said. “Combat patrol is spaceborne,” Roy reported. “Very good,” Gloval said. “Do we have a fix on the enemy fleet?” “No sir. Scanners and sensors are significantly degraded, due to hard radiation and debris,” Lieutenant McMillan, at the science station reported. “Launch a Blackbird. I want these pirates found as quickly as possible.” “Aye sir,” Fokker said. Below the bridge, in Shuttlebay One, the deck crew began prepping one of the ship’s recon fighters for launch. As soon as it was ready, the hangar door opened, and the black delta-winged shuttle departed. “Blackbird away, sir. Beginning recon of the system. 00000 On the far side of the system, another fleet dropped out of warp. Consisting of converted freighters and bulk carriers all centered on an obsolete Daedalus-class starship, the Revenge, this fleet was the scourge of the spacelanes in the near Beta Quadrant. This pirate fleet made its way towards its ambush coordinates, intent on capturing as many merchantmen as possible. The appearance of multiple warp signatures was noted by the Blackbird, located above the plane of the system’s elliptic. The sensor operator in the back seat of the two man fighter trained her instruments on the lead ship, and began relaying the data back to the Antietam. “Admiral,” Lt. Young called from her station, “we’re getting data from Blackbird 301. The enemy fleet has warped into the system, and is currently on a course towards an interception point between us and the Marine convoy.” “Thank you Kim. Sammie, signal the fleet: ‘Intercept and engage enemy fleet; best possible speed.’” “Yes sir,” Lt. Porter replied. The message was relayed, and the fleet of starships began picking their way through the asteroid and debris fields. “Sir, we’re getting another report from Blackbird 305,” Kim reported. “Another fleet of ships has dropped out of warp, and is heading for the intercept point. IFF is squawking civilian codes, sensor readings indicate Starfleet troopships. There’s a second code buried under the first one, Admiral. It’s matching codes consistent with Starfleet Marine Corps troopships.” “That would be the Second Marines, Admiral,” Marx said. “They were to be the bait.” “I see,” Admiral Gloval said. “Will there be any more…surprises?” “No sir,” Marx replied, with his hand to the back of his neck. “Sorry about that.” Captain Sakai hid a smile at that. “I can see the necessity, Lieutenant. After all, this isn’t a typical fleet operation.” He turned to face the Air Ops console. “Captain Fokker, get the rest of the wing airborne, but keep them in our sensor shadow. We’ll spring them at the right time. Kim, how long until the fleet is within engagement range?” “Fifteen minutes sir, present speed.” Kim consulted her board again. “Second Marines will be in the engagement area in fifteen minutes as well.” “Very well then. Sammie, signal to all ships, ‘Battlestations. Set Condition One’. Reiko, bring the ship to battlestations.” “Aye, sir,” the redheaded captain said. It wasn’t the first time Marx noticed that she could have doubled for his wife. “Ms. Grant, sound battlestations.” “Aye, ma’am.” Claudia hit the alert klaxons, bathing the bridge in red battle lighting. “Battlestations, battlestations. Set Condition One throughout the ship,” the ship’s computer announced over the loudspeakers. The vibrations of blast doors closing throughout the ship could be felt through the decking of the bridge. “Captain, all battlestations manned and ready. Condition One set throughout the ship.” “Admiral, all attack fighters have launched, and are hiding in our sensor shadow,” Roy reported. “Admiral,” LCDR Lowe said, “phasers charging, photon and quantum torpedoes loading. Point defense phasers online. Phaser cannon has begun power up sequence.” “Admiral,” Sammie called, “the fleet has set Condition One.” USS KAGA “All ships, this is the Antietam. Battlestations, set Condition One. I say again, battlestations, set Condition One” the loudspeakers on the bridge of the Constitution-class heavy cruiser stated. I won’t run away; I won’t run away, Commander Ikari thought to himself. “Commander Soryu,” he said a little more confidently than his last orders, but still kind of weak, “sound battlestations, set Condition One.” “Aye sir,” the redheaded German said. She hit the intercom. “All hands, battlestations, I say again, battlestations. Set Condition One through the ship.” Shinji was rubbing the sweaty palms of his hands on his uniform trousers, listening to the reports of the various departments throughout the ship reporting their status. “Sir,” Asuka said, interrupting his internal dialogue, “the ship is at battlestations; Condition One has been set throughout the ship.” “ETA to the enemy,” he asked. “Twelve minutes Herr Kapitan,” she replied, slipping into her native language, anxious to begin the battle. “Very good,” he replied. This is it, sink or swim. Time to prove to the old man whether or not I can hack it. Why did they have to give me a heavy cruiser? I would have been much happier in a frigate. “Stand by phasers and photon torpedoes.” “Jawhol, Herr Kapitan.” 00000 The three fleets closed towards an imaginary point in space, like asteroids plummeting towards a black hole. Roberts’ fleet was blinded by the lack of reconnaissance assets; the two Federation fleets were data-linked both together and to the Blackbird orbiting above the elliptic. “Admiral, enemy forces are entering phaser range,” Commander Lowe reported. “Sammie, signal the fleet: ‘Commence fire, fire at will.’ Mr. Lowe, you may fire when ready. Roy, send in the fighters.” Within a matter of moments, the forward phaser batteries on the Rhydin squadrons opened fire. Warthogs and Berkuts came from around their mothership, and dove towards the pirate fleet, as the Eagles, Phoenixes, and Tomcats provided cover. Anti-ship missiles streaked off of hardpoints on the attack fighters, punching through the standard shielding of the pirate fleet. Fighters from the pirates’ carriers launched, turning space into a swirling melee of fireballs, debris and vapor clouds. Every so often, a pilot would eject into the airless vacuum of space, and pray that their suit would hold up, that they wouldn’t get hit by a stray phaser bolt or chunk of debris. “Captain, we’re getting multiple rescue beacons,” Claudia reported. “Runabout Passaic requesting permission for rescue operations,” Roy reported. “Send her out,” Gloval ordered. “I want fighters escorting them in.” “Phaser cannon armed, sir,” Commander Lowe said. “Target one of their carriers, and fire.” At the base of the saucer section, the muzzle of the phaser cannon began to glow red, as energy was transferred from the capacitors. The ventral section of the saucer took on an evil red glow, as though Lucifer himself were looking through the muzzle, as the coherent bolt of phased energy shot from the Antietam, and hit the shields of one of Roberts’ bastardized carriers. The shields glowed red for a moment, before collapsing. A second bolt went right through the hull of the ship, penetrating the antimatter storage tanks. With the momentary disruption in the magnetic fields, all it took was one positron to leak through and touch the EPS junction box that powered the magnetic bottles. With a spark, the box blew, disabling containment. The bulk carrier erupted into a self-feeding ball of plasma, as the phaser cannon began its thirty second recharge cycle. “Admiral, Yamato’s been hit!” Kim sang out, as the battle lighting on the bridge returned towards normal. “On screen,” Gloval ordered. The viewscreen shifted to show the Sovereign-class cruiser, taking multiple torpedoes. The shields over her port nacelle flared into the visible spectrum, before collapsing. Pirate attack shuttles launched torpedo after torpedo at the vulnerable spot in her armor, even as her phasers tried to keep them away. Two torpedoes made it through the point-defense onslaught, hitting the nacelle. It erupted in a cloud of plasma and debris. The Kaga, Akagi, Hiryu and Soryu flew through the expanding debris cloud, phasers firing, knocking down as many pirate vessels as possible. “Bohze moi,” the Russian admiral muttered. “Kim, get me Captain Katsuragi.” “Sir, I have Captain Katsuragi on audio only.” “Admiral, we took a good hit. Main energizer’s out, we’re running on auxiliary power only. We’ve also got shock damage throughout the ship, sir. Life support is nominal, long-range subspace is out, and fire control’s shot to Hell though, sir.” “Fall back. Attach your frigates to First Squadron and have your heavy cruisers escort you out of the engagement area.” “Understood sir,” the disappointment was evident in Captain Katsuragi’s voice. “Misato,” he said, “you did good. Don’t worry about it. We’ll signal Rhydin to send a tug out for you.” “Aye sir. Good hunting, Admiral. Yamato out,” Misato ending the transmission. The viewscreen showed the damaged Yamato being escorted out of the firefight by her smaller stable mates. “Sir, I’m getting reports of pirate vessels surrendering,” Vanessa reported. “Marine transports are sending boarding parties to seize the vessels that have surrendered.” “Excellent. Any word on the Revenge?” “Yes sir. She’s still in the fight, and not about to give up.” “Lisa, intercept the Revenge. Let’s show Roberts how Starfleet fights.” The viewscreen shifted as the battleship adjusted her course, and fixed on the Revenge. Intelligence hadn’t done the reports justice to her, as it was obvious that Roberts had upgraded the ship several times since her retirement from Starfleet and stricken from the rolls as the USS Hotspur. Instead of the standard cylindrical first generation warp nacelles, she mounted the more advanced Constitution refit nacelles on streamlined pylons that were horizontally mounted. Her gooseneck was more robust, and mounted an additional impulse engine deck. “Sir,” Commander Lowe said, “the Revenge is in range. Phaser cannon has entered final recharge sequence.” “I want her, Commander. Target engines and weapons only.” “Aye sir.” The Antietam’s phasers opened fire, impacting on her shields, something that had been upgraded, but wasn’t readily apparent. Quantum torpedoes shot from their tubes and hit the Revenge’s shields, blew through them, and impacted against the hull of the pirate ship. “Firing phaser cannon,” LCDR Lowe stated. The lights on the bridge dimmed, as energy was transferred. Two bolts of coherent phased energy shot out again, and drilled through the Revenge’s shields. Both starboard and port nacelles exploded into balls of fire. The Antietam’s standard phasers fired again, destroying the gooseneck impulse engine deck, as an anti-ship missile from a Berkut blew the main impulse engines. “Signal the Revenge. Tell them to stand down, and prepare to be boarded.” Lieutenant Kino, the ship’s communications specialist nodded. “Revenge, this is Antietam. You are to surrender your vessel and prepare to be boarded.” “Admiral, with your permission, I’d like to lead the away team,” Marx said. “Granted, Lieutenant,” Gloval said, and Marx left the bridge of the battleship. “Antietam, this is the Revenge. We surrender. It was a good fight, Antietam. We will be expecting your boarding party,” the reply from the Revenge came. 00000 As Will was making his way to Transporter Room 4, something was plaguing him, as he reviewed the battle. The pirates had fought only when Admiral Gloval ordered them to attack. They had made no move towards intercepting the Marine convoy at any other point; it was as if they had wanted to surrender, not fight. Did I second guess the intelligence? Will thought to himself, as he was outfitted with the appropriate accoutrements for a boarding party. Were they actually on their way to surrender, and we attacked them? There was no flag of truce, no messages offering their surrender prior to the fight. They must have wanted to fight us. But they didn’t fire first; they made no move to intercept the convoy. He stood on the transporter pad, and nodded to the operator. “Energize.” 00000 Lt. William Marx materialized in the Revenge’s transporter room, with his seven man SOCOM team. Expecting a fight as soon as they arrived, they were clad in the latest protective body armor, and had their phaser carbines at the ready. Marx looked around the room, noting it was empty. The air smelled of smoke and electricity; the lights were down to battery powered emergency lights. The team moved out into the corridor, scanning it. As they moved towards the turbolift, they cleared rooms that they could enter, and sealed doors they could not. There was still enough power to the lift, and entered it. “Bridge,” SFC Holmes growled. The computer complied, and the lift made its way to the top of the spherical primary hull. As the lift doors opened, the eight man team moved on to the bridge. “Roberts,” Will said, “you are under arrest for piracy.” The crew of the Revenge were at their stations, hands resting on the consoles, nowhere near any of the controls. 00000 …To Be Continued

UNITED FEDERATION OF PLANETS STARFLEET COMMAND USS Antietam, NCC-1798-A ANTIETAM-CLASS BATTLESHIP/CARRIER History: The Antietam was launched in the late 2360s, as a validation prototype on the battleship/carrier concept. Until her commissioning, she was known only by the hull designation NX-BB/CV. Her first captain, Commander Christopher Marx, provided the name and hull number of a former ship of his, the USS Antietam, NCC-1798. Much of the actual service history of this vessel is classified. The Antietam is currently assigned to the Rhydin Sector Fleet flagship. Specifications Antietam-class Specifications Type Battleship, Carrier, Explorer Length (overall) 1400 Meters Beam 500 Meters Height 150 Meters Decks 50 Crew 1000/800 (Ship’s Company/Aerospace Wing) Max Speed Warp 9.0 Cruise Speed Warp 7.0 Propulsion Three Warp Drive Nacelles, Six Impulse Engine decks Armament 16 Type XII Phaser Arrays 36 Type V Point Defense Phaser Emitters 4 Quantum Torpedo Tubes, 4 Photon Torpedo Tubes 1 Type XX Superphaser Cannon Defenses Deflector Shields, Ablative Armor Fighter Wing FS-14 Tomcat 20 FS-15E Berkut 20 FS-15C Eagle 12 AS-10 Warthog 10 SR-142 Blackbird III 5 FS-106 Phoenix 12 EFS-111 Raven III 5 ACS-47 Spooky 10 Danube-class Runabout 6 Ships Named Antietam USS Antietam, CV/CVA/CVS-36; Essex-class CV USS Antietam, NCC-1798 (assumed USS Ti-Ho’s designation number, after that ship’s rechristening to USS Enterprise); Constitution-class Heavy Cruiser USS Antietam, NCC-1798-A; Antietam-class BB/CV

THE BATTLE FOR CAER BANNOG- ACT I Orbital Drydock Facilities Rhydin XII Geosynchronous Orbit SD 10510.31 Commander Shinji Ikari, yes the son of the sector commander, looked at the turbolift doors, as it hummed its way towards the bridge of his ship, the USS Kaga. “I’m going to war,” he said to himself. “I’m a scientist, not a warrior. I should be on the Einstein or the Oppenheimer, not here.” He steeled himself as the ‘lift slowed, then stopped and the doors opened on to the bridge of the Constitution-class heavy cruiser. He stepped over the threshold and looked around the bridge of the refitted starship. The viewscreen showed the gas giant the drydock was orbiting. “Captain on the bridge,” the executive office, Lieutenant Commander Asuka Soryu, barked. “As you were,” Shinji called, in a somewhat less than confident voice. He sat in the center seat, on edge, as if he was expecting the actual captain of the Kaga to show up and kick him out. “Commander Soryu, do we have departure clearance?” “Yes sir. We have also received the rendezvous coordinates from the flagship.” “Helm, aft thrusters; ahead two-thirds,” Shinji ordered. The Kaga began to shudder slightly, as the maneuvering thrusters overcame the starship’s resting inertia, and then transfer the potential energy of the ship into kinetic energy. USS Antietam, NCC-1798-A Oort Cloud, Rhydin star system Marx walked on to the bridge of what had once been his father’s starship. As the liaison between the SOCOM and the Sector’s fleet, he was allowed full access to the ship. There were some apparent changes since the last time he’d been on the bridge. The original modified Galaxy-class bridge module had been replaced with a newer module that added several additional stations to the bridge. “Lieutenant Marx, welcome aboard,” Rear Admiral (Lower Half) Henry Gloval said, jovially. “I understand that your father was the plankowner for the Antietam.” “Yes sir,” Marx replied, as he looked over the bridge. Several of the normal bridge stations were missing, replaced with stations more suited for fleet operations. “Starfleet suffered a loss when your father retired,” the Admiral said. “Your father was an innovative tactician and diplomat. And my condolences on his death.” ”Thank you sir,” Marx replied. Inwardly he shook his head at the reasoning behind what Starfleet had done. A good majority of the bridge crew were female. Sitting at Fleet Operations was Lt. Vanessa Leeds; Fleet Communications had Lt. Sammie Porter monitoring it, while Lt. Kim Young was monitoring the fleet situation board. Marx had, while in his travels through the ship, overheard crewmembers of the ship refer to these three as the “Bridge Bunnies”. Operations had LCDR Claudia Grant, and the helm was manned by LCDR Lisa Hayes. He was surprised that Aerospace Operations had a station manned on the bridge, although it seemed that it was more the CAG’s workstation than PriFly. “Lieutenant, we know what we are doing," RDML Gloval said, a chuckle in his voice. “Lt. Young, what is the fleet status?” “First Squadron is formed, sir. Fourth Squadron has departed the ODF and is currently enroute to the rendezvous point,” the dark-haired Bridge Bunny replied. “Captain Katsuragi’s ETA is twenty minutes. She’s reporting a slight problem on the USS Hiryu.” ***** As Fourth Squadron slid into formation with First, Admiral Gloval requested all commanders and first officers to the Antietam for the mission briefing in one of the large conference rooms on Deck 10. The Antietam’s executive officer, Captain Reiko Sakai, called the room to attention, as Gloval walked on to the stage. “As you were,” he said. “I turn the briefing over to the representative from Special Operations Command, Lieutenant William Marx.” Marx took the podium, as RDML Gloval sat down. “Sirs, there is a unique opportunity that Starfleet has been presented. For years the Dread Pirate Roberts has raped, plundered, pillaged, and looted outlying systems of the Rhydin and neighboring sectors. For years Starfleet has tried to keep the peace here, but because of the various wars that the Federation has been involved in, sector security has been placed at a lower requirement, allowing pirates like Roberts to move in. “Starfleet has leaked out that a significant trade convoy will be moving through the Rhydin sector. This is just the sort of thing that Roberts’ll go after, and intelligence indicates he is assembling his fleet in the Caer Bannog system. This gives this fleet the opportunity to remove a perpetual thorn in the side of Rhydin.” There was a hand raised towards the back of the conference room. “Yes sir?” “Commander Akagi, of the USS Akagi; Lieutenant, what does Roberts’ force structure look like? What will we be expecting to see?” “Ma’am,” Marx replied, “the Roberts’ has converted a number of freighters and transports into warships, with very few actual starships. The Revenge, however, is a Daedalus-class cruiser, that has significant upgrades. The main threat comes from fighters and assault shuttles. These short-range vessels are quick, agile, and very maneuverable. Phaser locks are ineffective; torpedoes and the Antietam’s fighters will have a better chance against them. “Captains, your best alternative is to go after the larger vessels, especially the bulk carriers. These ships have been bastardized into fighter carriers, and serve as the core of Roberts’ fleet. To eliminate these, particularly early on, will cause a significant reduction in force against us. “On other note. The Caer Bannog system is a ‘dirty’ system, unfortunately. Hard radiation will play havoc with sensors, as will the numerous debris clouds littering the system. Caer Bannog is a newly formed star system, and, as such, is uncoalesced,” the astrophysicist in him was coming out, as he described the system. “Are there any additional questions?” Marx looked at Admiral Gloval, who stood, and approached the podium. Marx retreated back to his seat. “Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve all fought against Roberts,” he said. “We know how he fights—dirty. We need to be ready for whatever dirty tricks this bastard will pull against us. As soon as you report back to your ships, we will warp out. “Good luck and good hunting. Dismissed.” ***** “Admiral,” Lieutenant Young said, “all vessels are ready, and standing by for departure.” “Sir,” Captain Fokker called from the Air Ops station, “the CAP is onboard; the flightdeck is green. All launch bays are green.” “Very well then. Sammie, signal the fleet—‘Set course for Caer Bannog, Warp Factor seven. Engage at captain’s discretion.’” “Aye sir.” “Commander Hayes, engage.” “Aye, aye sir.” The Antietam began her run up to warp, her three nacelles glowing blue, as they channeled the tremendous energies needed to propel the ship beyond the speed of light. Marx sat in his quarters, generous for his status as a VIP, but spartan. Three days to the Caer Bannog system, he said to himself, as he watched space blur through his viewports. Was our information correct? Or will Roberts hit the convoy somewhere else? This indecision sucks. He could almost here his father’s voice, as he continued his internal dialogue. But, this is why you are part of SOCOM, to make the universe safe for democracy. You’ve done what you could; your personnel gathered the information that was available. Everything points towards Caer Bannog. Hell, you even got Starfleet to send that convoy of Marines as a “trade” convoy. Indecision is not a leadership trait. You know that. How many times did you see your father make the wrong decision, if only to see it become the right decision? This operation will work. Now grow up, or I’ll have Xian Pu kick your tail into next Thursday. “Screw this,” he muttered. “If I spend any more time in here, I’m going to go bug crazy. It’s bad enough when I’m alone on my own ship.” He stood, walked out of his quarters, and just wandered the ship. His wanderings found him by the ship’s gym. Seeing that it was empty, Marx entered, stripped off his uniform tunic, and began a series of warm up katas. Musabetsu Kakutou emphasizes an “any time, any place, anything goes” philosophy for a martial arts style. There often isn’t time to change into traditional fighting clothes for a fight. Losing himself in the movements, he started his exercises, shifting seamlessly from kata to kata. Captain Sakai had entered when Marx was on his twenty-third kata. She watched the SOCOM lieutenant dance against an unseen opponent, shifting from attack to defense, back to attack again. Standard karate shifted into ju-jitsu which, in turn, shifted into muay thay which shifted again into ninjitsu. Still in his forms, he removed a shimai from the wall. Marx shifted into armed forms. Kendo forms became Yagyu and Iaido forms which, in turn shifted into Amazon sword forms. As he began his cool down exercises, Captain Sakai clapped. Turning, Marx’s hand shot up to the base of his skull. “Um, I didn’t know anyone else was here, ma’am.” “That’s quite alright, Lieutenant. I was entranced by your katas, although I didn’t recognize most of the forms. What school do you practice?” “Ah…Musabetsu Kakutou, ma’am,” Marx replied. “‘Indiscriminate Grappling’, eh,” she said with a knowing tone. “Rumor has it, the founder was both a pervert and a panty thief. Not exactly redeemable qualities for a martial arts school.” Marx regarded the 5’ 3” redheaded captain with a new respect. And noted that she could pass for an older version of Ranko, even if she kept her flame red hair in a loose ponytail down her back. “Figures Genma would have to be a student of that school,” he muttered quietly, “even with the allowance my father gave him.” A little louder, he answered. “It’s my wife’s school.” “Would that be Xian Pu or Ranko, Lieutenant?” Sakai gave the young SOCOM lieutenant one of her rare smiles. “Oh, I know all about you, Lieutenant. Your father created quite a ruckus in the Federation by allowing multiple marriages in the Ranch. Especially since it wasn’t always part of Rhydin’s history. “Usually something like that is for religious or cultural reasons, very rarely political.” “Um…” Marx was at a loss for words. “I know that the Joketsuzoku do usually allow multiple partners, particularly if they haven’t found any decent males for their bloodlines.” “But, Lieutenant, you do realize that that is really for breeding stock? A strong male will produce strong heirs. And, under their laws, since you defeated Xian Pu, by intercepting Ranko’s Kiss of Death, that makes you breeding stock.” “I do ma’am, and I don’t agree with it, but I love Xian Pu, regardless of her customs and traditions. Just as much as I love Ranko.” “Ah, I’m glad to hear that, then Lieutenant. Otherwise, I’d have to have words with my niece and her sister-wife.” She took her uniform tunic off, and set it down on the bleachers, next to Marx’s. “Would you care to spar?” The look on Will’s face was, to coin a phrase, priceless. 00000

THE BATTLE FOR CAER BANNOG- PRELUDE “Rhydin Approach, this is the Wild Stallion. Requesting landing clearance, Starfleet Headquarters,” Will Marx requested over the subspace channel. “Wild Stallion, this is Rhydin Approach Control. Pending validation of clearance code, standby for landing clearance.” Rhydin was, either fortunately or unfortunately near the hunting grounds for the Dread Pirate Roberts. Starfleet wasn’t taking the situation near the system lightly, and all Federation- and allied-registered merchant ships had to transmit a one-time use code received from the last navigation buoy before the system. Vessels registered directly to Starfleet Command, or any of her subordinate commands, had the codes hardwired. “Understood, Approach,” the one-eyed special operative replied. It was a seamless system. Starfleet’s computers would query his IFF transponder which would download the code, which would then allow the approach control computers to do an actual sensor analysis of the ship’s hull configuration to see if it matched up with what was in the database. But, it wasn’t totally foolproof; a cloaked ship could theoretically get through the system, but then the older Romulan and Klingon cloaking systems available on the black market leaked exhaust gasses. And those could be detected, and then that would bring down the two Antietam-class battleships in the system on the offender like a metric ton of bricks. “Wild Stallion, Rhydin Approach Control. You are cleared to land at Sector Headquarters. Contact Tower on 135.375.” “Roger, Approach Control. Going to 135.375, for Wild Stallion.” As the light freighter entered the atmosphere, and closed on Rhydin City, Marx changed his radio settings. “Rhydin Tower, Wild Stallion, inbound to land.” “Roger, Wild Stallion. Enter right base, runway 36 Right.” Marx read back the instructions, and, as he neared the parallel runways near the sector headquarters building. “Wild Stallion, cleared to land.” “Roger, cleared to land.” Sitting in the cockpit of his freighter, Marx chuckled at the incongruity of the situation. Here he was, flying a starship capable of sustained warp 5 speeds and hover landing, landing like he was flying his father’s T-6. Granted, FADM Marx had the runways built in the first place after he took command so he could fly in from the Ranch in his T-6. The Wild Stallion crossed the threshold of the runway directed, and the tower advised him to turn next taxiway and taxi to fleet parking. Setting the ship down, Marx walked down the ramp, and smelled the air of home. He grew up here, spent his whole life here, although he could trace his routes back to Earth, Rhydin was home. For him, the air held a myriad of alien scents that made Rhydin home. But the moment was broken when a Security gold shirt walked up to the ramp, a customs armband on his left arm. “Nature of visit to Rhydin, sir?” “Official business with the Sector Commander, Ensign,” he replied coldly. “Anything to declare?” “No.” “I’ll need to search your ship, sir.” “Ensign,” Marx said, starting to get frustrated, “I have an appointment to see the Sector Commander in the next five minutes. If I don’t get to the Admiral’s office, I will ensure that you are assigned to a garbage scow on the Regula run.” The ensign was starting to get flustered. This was not the normal customs inspection. “S-Sir…” “Ensign, if you do not clear me within the next minute, you can kiss any chance of getting off that scow until you’re ready to retire. I am understood?” “Yes sir.” he made an entry on his padd. “Welcome to Rhydin, sir.” Raising the platform, Marx nodded, and stalked off to the headquarters building. Office of the Sector Commander Rhydin Sector Headquarters 10 minutes later Marx walked into the outer office, adjusting his uniform tunic. It’d been almost a year since he’d last worn one, and felt out of sorts in it. He was stopped by the Admiral’s secretary. “Can I help you, Lieutenant?” “I need to see the Admiral,” he replied, noting that she was also a lieutenant. “Do you have an appointment? The Admiral is a very busy person.” ”I do not, however the matter I need to discuss with him is of vital importance to the Federation.” “I’ll see if he’s available,” the lieutenant replied. She walked into the inner office, letting Marx cool his heels. As much as he was loath to admit it, when Admirals MacPherson and Edson were in command, nepotism had proven to be a useful thing since they remembered serving with his father. With the new commander though, it seemed like it was a hindrance. “The Admiral will see you, Lieutenant,” she replied, emphasizing his rank. Obviously she hadn’t recognized the green in Marx’s tunic, identifying him as a member of Special Operations. “Thank you,” he replied, with forced civility. Manners, he remembered both Lil and Nodoka saying, are as important to diplomacy as a show of force. They allow both sides to come to an accord quicker than by show of force alone. He walked into the Admiral’s office, and saluted. “Sir, Lieutenant William Marx reporting.” Fleet Admiral Gendo Ikari looked at the lieutenant standing before him, behind white-gloved, steepled hands. “Lieutenant, this is the second time in a month that you’ve barged into my office. I hope you have a…reasonable explanation this time.” Marx dropped the salute, after realizing that Admiral Ikari wasn’t going to return it. The Admiral’s facial expressions were impossible to read behind those steepled hands, and his eyes were barely readable behind the red glasses he wore for that particular reason. “Yes sir, I do. The Dread Pirate Roberts’ fleet is assembling at Caer Bannog. It seems he’s gotten wind of a Federation convoy heading for the sector he operates in, and is planning to raid it. This gives us the opportunity to strike, and render this threat impotent.” Ikari hadn’t offered the lieutenant a seat, and there were two sitting in front of the Sector Commander’s desk, thus keeping Marx standing at ease. FADM Ikari sat there, listening, his fingers still steepled. “What resources will SOCOM require for this operation, Lieutenant?” “SOCOM requires approximately 30 ships, sir. At least one, preferably two, should be a carrier. The Dread Pirate Roberts has a number of shuttles configured as fighters and assault craft.” “I see. So, SOCOM is requesting approximately half my fleet for this little endeavour, and half my available Antietam-class carriers. And how would this look if the Breen or some other hostile force,” a subtle reminder about what lay on the other side of the Mu Wormhole, “should attack this sector?” “You will still have half your fleet in place sir, and most of them are newer than what Admiral Marx had when he took on…that other force, sir. That should be sufficient to hold until reinforcements arrive.” “And I have a third of that force, Lieutenant, regardless of the fact that most of those ships are newer.” “Yes sir, I’m well aware of that.” “And who will be in overall command of this endeavour? SOCOM, or the fleet?” “Starfleet will remain in operational control of the naval assets, sir. As this will be a Starfleet operation, SOCOM will be acting independently of Starfleet, but have administrative control of the force. We will be designating targets, unless there is a specific and credible threat against the fleet. And until the destruction of the Dread Pirate Roberts’ forces, your appointed commander will maintain tactical control.” “Very well then,” Ikari said. “First and Fourth Squadrons will be detached for this operation.” ”Sir, I’d like the possibility of having the Second Squadron available as a reserve,” Marx said, respectfully. Even if he despised his father for mucking around in his personal life, the late Christopher Marx was still a tactician that had an excellent military mind, and Will hadn’t seen any reason to not listen to that, and just fight over his personal life. “I will think about it, Lieutenant. You have your support. Dismissed,” Ikari said, effectively ending any further conversation. 00000

USS Arcadia, NCC-1742-E SD: 10412.30 Marx looked around at his quarters. On the floor by the door were his bags. “Ranko, Xian Pu,” he said with hesitation. “We know,” both wives said at once. Even little Hayden looked at her father with misty eyes. “Once the ship returns to the nearest starbase, we’re to book passage to Rhydin. Unless Captain Moose allows us to remain aboard while you’re at Ft. Benning,” Shampoo said. Ranko looked at her husband. “Anata,” she said, “I never felt comfortable with your decision. I know it’s something that you feel the need to do, but you do something like this again, and I will personally…persuade you from this course of action again. Even if I have to break every bone in your body. Twice.” Marx looked at his redheaded wife. “I understand, aisuru. And this is the last time I do something stupid like this again. Next school I go to will be a master’s or doctorate program in tactical strategy. Something simple like that.” Shampoo took a more pragmatic view of her husband’s leaving. “Bring honor to our tribe, Airen. Bring back skills that will help our warriors.” After shifting Hayden, she kissed her husband. “For honor,” she said, kissing him on one cheek. “For duty,” she said, kissing him on the other. “And for love,” she finished, after kissing him on the lips. Marx smiled at his wives, as he took his daughter in his arms. “Hayden,” he said, “be a good girl to your mommies and grandmothers.” He kissed the five month old on the forehead, before handing her back to Shampoo. With a tear in his eye, he picked up his bags and headed out the door. Gunny Jackson was there to meet him. “Lieutenant,” he said, “you know you don’t have to do this.” Marx gave the senior Marine NCO a look. “Don’t tell me you’re going to try and talk me out of this, Gunny. Because if you are, Captain Moose and my sister weren’t able to do it last night and you won’t be able to either.” Gunny Jackson chuckled. “I may just have to beat the tar out of you, LT,” he said good naturedly. “Besides, when I found out, I knew the Captain wouldn’t have been able to talk you out of this. Although I am kinda surprised that Commander Dacotah couldn’t.” “Gunny, you couldn’t beat me even if I was blind folded, with one arm and leg tied behind my back.” Marx left his retort at that, not wanting to go into a family fight. ”You’re right, LT. But I think I’d at least knock some sense into you, sir.” Gunny Jackson noted the Lieutenant’s lack of barb about his sister, and tactfully left it at that. “Shuttlebay, sir. Shuttle Cooper has been prepped for you, sir.” Marx walked over to the shuttle and threw his bags in. “Thanks Gunny.” Jackson snapped the young lieutenant his best parade ground salute. His wives had been instrumental in setting up an unarmed combat course for the protective detail, and the Command Gunnery Sergeant just happened to like the Lieutenant. “Good luck, Lieutenant. Semper Fi!” Marx returned the salute. “Semper Fi, Gunny,” he replied. Jackson backed off behind the yellow line, as Marx boarded the shuttle. He powered up the engines and navigational array. “Shuttle Cooper to Ops. Requesting launch clearance.” Betty’s voice came over the radio, as the Shuttlebay doors opened. “Shuttle Cooper, you are clear to launch. Take vector 254 mark 2 to clear Kandoru Sector.” “Vector 254 mark 2 to clear sector, Shuttle Cooper copies. Departing now.” The engines glowed a bit as Marx applied power and left the Shuttlebay. “Godspeed, Lieutenant Marx,” Betty said. “Arcadia out.”

Growing Pains A joint log between Will Marx and Aaron Westler, MD. The appointed time approached; in fact the antique grandfather clock in their quarters, a clock that was, apparently his grandfather’s, chimed the hour. Marx was already finished with his katas, showered and dressed, when his redheaded wife rolled out of bed. Ranko staggered into the living area, looking more dead than alive. “Aisuru,” her husband said, “your appointment is within the hour.” “Don’t wanna go,” she growled, graciously accepting the cup of tea from her sister-wife. “You’re going, and not another word about it, sister-wife,” Xian Pu said. “Children are a gift from the Kami; I would think that you would like to ensure that our next child is healthy.” “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Although I wish you weren’t so smug about it.” “Good,” Marx said, listening to the conversation. “Dr. Westler will be waiting for you. I’ll come with you. It’ll help to have a familiar face with you.” “Pregnancy is a woman’s job, airen,” Shampoo said. “You go to the bridge. I’ll go with Ranko.” “Ok, ok, I know when I’m beat." ------ Standing outside Sickbay, Shampoo stood next to Ranko. The redhead, much to the chagrin of her sister-wife, was fidgeting in her kimono. “I don’t know why you had me wear this.” ”Stop fidgeting. You look like a warrior about to go into combat for the first time.” “I hate doctors. No good has ever come out of going to a doctor, Shampoo.” “It’s just a routine exam. You’ll do fine,” Shampoo gave her sister-wife a smile. “Remember my pregnancy?” “Yeah, I do. It went perfectly.” “Hai. And yours will as well,” the lavender-haired Amazon said, as she fixed her sister-wife’s kimono. “Ready?” Ranko gave her a weak nod. “Let’s go fight this battle quickly and swiftly.” The two wives of Lt. Marx entered Sickbay. “Dr. Westler?” “Yes?” “I’m Ranko Marx, Lieutenant Marx’s wife. I have an appointment with you.” “I see.” He looked at the other young woman with him. “And you are?” “Xian Pu, Lt. Marx’s other wife.” “Oh boy,” the good doctor said. ------ "What is that?" Ranko looked suspiciously at the overhead monitor Dr. Westler had swung over from another biobed. Having grown up in Nerima, which was one of the cities that her husband’s father assumed sovereignty over when he purchased the Ranch, she was used to modern technology, more so than her sister wife, having grown up in a backwoods village. "Oh, it's nothing to worry about. This is a more powerful scanner that I like to use. It gathers more data than a standard tricorder." He positioned the monitor right above Ranko, and looked down, wondering why in the world she had chosen to wear a kimono to an exam. Starting the scan, he pulled a chair over to the biobed, and sat down with a PADD. "Alright then, how are you feeling?" "I'm fine," came the reply. Aaron looked down at the PADD, “How's the morning sickness treating you?" ”I'm coping with it, as best I can.” The scanner beeped, indicating that the scan was complete. "Well it looks like your baby is doing very well. The computer hasn't found anything to indicate anything is wrong. Would you like to see it?" Ranko took a look at Xian Pu. Her sister-wife nodded, signaling her approval. The redhead really did not want to be here. “Hai, Sensei,” she said. Aaron noted the hesitation in her voice, and hopefully assumed it wasn’t because of the baby. Swinging the monitor around, he showed the two wives of the Arcadia’s helmsman. “Congratulations Mrs. Marx, you’re going to have…twins?!” Ranko looked at Xian Pu, then at the doctor, a multitude of expressions playing across her face. “Twins?” She repeated. “Are you sure?” “Yes, quite sure,” Dr. Westler said. His voice started to sound slightly unsure as he continued. “Well, as sure as the equipment is. It does, however, look like you will have a boy and a girl.” Xian Pu and Ranko looked at each other, then at the Doctor, then back at each other. Dr. Westler took this as a cue to head around the biobed, to the other end of the scanner to double check his scans for accuracy. “Kami-sama,” Ranko muttered, looking at her sister-wife. “I can’t believe it. Twins. I thought that hiccup of our husband’s genetics cured itself. Look at Hayden and Catherine. Both are single children…” The redhead pursed her lips, thinking about the implications. “Ranko-chan, you were doubly blessed by the Goddess,” Xian Pu said, quietly. “Be grateful, not nervous. You have assistance from me to help you with our children, just as you have helped me with little Hayden.” There was a small smile on her face. “That is what sister-wives do.” Ranko gave her co-wife a smile. “You’re right. But you know what? I have this nasty craving for fugu sashimi-- Fresh fugu sashimi. Aaron turned around to face the women and smiled. "Congratulations again Mrs. Marx. We are done here, so you are free to go. I will have the computer run further tests to double-check against today’s; you should receive them in about 4 days." He pushed a button on the scanner and it rose up to the ceiling, allowing Ranko to rise from the biobed. "Thank you doctor," said Xian Pu, "Our husband is going to be so happy." Ranko was actually smiling a bit for a change as she thanked Westler also. The two walked out of Sickbay talking loudly, as Aaron crossed to his console in the corner of the room, starting the computer on the multitude of small tests that needed to be run.

UNITED FEDERATION OF PLANETS STARFLEET COMMAND STARFLEET PERSONNEL COMMAND -=/\=- RECORD ACCESS -=/\=- CLASSIFICATION LEVEL: CONFIDENTIAL/NOFORN SD: 10411.20 NAME: Marx, William John RACE: Human SEX: Male AGE: 26 HEIGHT: 2m WEIGHT: 90kg RANK AND PAY GRADE: Lieutenant/O-3 ASSIGNMENT: USS Arcadia, NCC-1742-E DUTY POSITION: Flight Controller/Astronavigator NEXT OF KIN: Seriana Ravensward (Mother), ADM (Ret.) Lilliana Gunji (Stepmother), CDR Hayden Dacotah (Stepsister), CDR Hunter Dacotah (Stepbrother), Virginia Marx, Ed.D (Sister), Ranko Marx (Wife), Xian Pu Marx (Wife), Hayden Marx (Daughter) -=CAREER HISTORY=- Lieutenant Marx was assigned to the Arcadia-D straight from the Academy, originally assigned to the Science Department as an Astronomer/Astrophysicist. He was transferred to the bridge, at his own request. One of his more notable achievements while assigned to the Science Department was the creation of a synthetic intelligence known as HAL. HAL is designed to ease user interaction with the main computer, and to provide automated diagnostic and power distribution routing. The Arcadia D and E were the only ships in the Fleet so equipped. HAL was often heard at times arguing with another synthetic intelligence resident on the Arcadia's main computer, known as Harvey, usually regarding ship's disposition and company. HAL has since been deactivated, due to potential psychiatric instability. Pending psychiatric evaluation and reprogramming, HAL may be brought back online. At this time, psychiatric consultation with members of Starfleet Medical and the Daystrom Institute indicate that HAL should remain off-line due to severe paranoid schizophrenia, coupled with a moderate level of obsessive-compulsive disorder. -=PERSONAL HISTORY=- Lieutenant Marx is the second son of late Fleet Admiral Christopher Marx and Seriana Ravensward, and has a twin sister, Virginia, currently on faculty at the Vulcan Science Academy. His mother still resides on Rhydin. His stepmother, Admiral Lilliana Gunji, retired as Commander, Temporal Disturbance Investigations, and is serving in the Diplomatic Corps. Her children, William's step brother and sister, are Commanders Hunter and Hayden Dacotah, and are serving as Chief Engineer, Utopia Planitia Naval Yard, and Executive Officer, USS Arcadia, NCC-1742-E, respectively. Two other elder half-siblings, Ensign (Dr.) Crystine Marx and Lt. Commander Christopher Marx, Jr., were killed in the line of duty. The causes of their deaths have been deemed Top Secret/SCI or higher, and are beyond the scope of this document. Lt. Marx, while growing up on Rhydin, trained in Musabetsu Kakutou Saotome-ryu (Saotome School of Unrestricted Grappling/Anything Goes) martial arts, and is considered a 4th Dan in the school, and holds master level certifications in several, more orthodox unarmed martial arts styles. During his time at Starfleet Academy, Rhydin, Lt. Marx was continually compared to his half-brother, who graduated in the top ten of his class, while William tended towards the bottom of the middle third of his class. His grades put him in loggerheads with his father, even though Admiral Marx retired from Starfleet as Rhydin Sector Commander on the day that his youngest son left for the Academy. There are, however, unsubstantiated reports that the eldest and youngest Marx were already fighting between themselves, regarding the younger's future training and spouse. While the younger Marx was undergoing rigorous martial arts training with the founder of the Musabetsu Kakutou Saotome-ryu, Saotome Genma, the Admiral agreed to have his son marry Sensei Saotome's daughter, Ranko. The betrothal was duly recorded by the Nerima city offices, and is a matter of public record. As is the Lieutenant's second betrothal to the Amazon warrior Xian Pu. Just prior to the Lieutenant's entry into Starfleet Academy, Marx and the Saotomes were involved in a martial arts tournament in a village just outside of the boundaries of Antietam Ranch (see below). In an accident, Lt. Marx was given the Amazon Kiss of Marriage after defeating the village champion, Xian Pu. In an unfortunate turn of events for the young martial artist and Starfleet Cadet, the local authorities chose to follow Amazon laws and traditions, thereby recognizing the second betrothal. Lieutenant Marx was married to both his fiancées in a traditional Joketsuzoku ceremony while on leave, on 10309.15. On SD 10403.15, Xian Pu Marx gave birth to the newest Marx-Hayden Marx-under the care of Arcadia OB/GYN Dr. R. Westheimer. Their daughter is named after her aunt, who was captured by Romulans, and held against her will at the time of Hayden’s birth. Lieutenant Marx was on a Leave of Absence from Starfleet since 10404.15, to attend to family issues on Rhydin. His second wife, Xian Pu, was named regent of the Joketsuzoku Amazons while her great grandmother, Kuh Lon, underwent surgery and therapy. While on Rhydin, Lt. Marx secured an exclusive contract to provide Tiffany & Co. with high quality, natural gemstones as mined within Antietam Ranch. The deal was finalized on Risa. He and his family have since returned to the Arcadia, and reoccupied their quarters. -=FAMILY HISTORY=- The late Fleet Admiral Christopher Marx was the first captain of the USS Antietam, NCC-1798-A, the lead vessel of the Antietam-class carrier/battleship. Marx commanded the Antietam until his first retirement as Rhydin Sector troubleshooter, holding the rank of Commodore, except for a stint as Commandant, Hostile Weather Survival School, Keflavik, Iceland. Marx was pulled out of retirement following the firing of the Rhydin Sector Commander, Fleet Admiral Hiro Nakajima, by Commander, Starfleet; promoted to the rank of Fleet Admiral, and assigned as the new Sector Commander. The reasons for this occurrence are classified at a level higher than Top Secret/SCI, and are therefore beyond the scope of this document. During Marx's first retirement, the Admiral began purchasing the 25000 square kilometer Antietam Ranch, an area roughly half the size of Bosnia-Herzegovina. However, due to the intervention of a junior third-level functionary at the Rhydin Bureau of Land Management, several small, non-aligned villages and towns became part of the Ranch, making the Admiral not only one of the largest landowners on the planet, but also a national leader. To quell the possibility of revolt or riot in his new territories, Admiral Marx, in his later capacity of Sector Commander had the sector Starfleet Corps of Engineers introduce modern sanitation, power distribution and transportation network to the new nation. The Admiral also introduced a parliamentary system of government for the citizens of the Ranch to enact laws for their citizens, and to allow for the Prime Minister and to run the new nation while the Admiral was away. By default of Rhydin being a Federation member, the new nation entered the Federation, and the Prime Minister also acts as the Ranch's Ambassador to the sector council. Several veins of blue sapphire and diamonds were found within the territory of the Ranch, and environmentally friendly mining techniques were implemented. Several inconclusive battles were fought with the Joketsuzoku; a matriarchal tribe of warriors with ties to the Amazons of mythology that had been transplanted from the hinterlands of China. Admiral Marx also tried political maneuvering and a peace treaty to peacefully have the tribe come into the boundaries of the Ranch. All attempts were rebuffed, until the Admiral's youngest son defeated the village champion and received the Kiss of Marriage. The Admiral accepted the validity of the native custom, and allowed multiple marriages as a valid marriage type. The Amazon nation, led by Xian Pu’s great-grandmother, Kuh Lon, was welcomed into the borders of the Ranch. The Admiral's first wife, Captain Jennifer Rand, served as the dedicated communications officer for the USS Antietam, until her promotion to the rank of Captain and assignment to the USS Blackhawk. Due to the nature of both vessels missions, relations were strained severely enough to warrant separation and divorce. Captain Rand remained commander of the Blackhawk until its destruction under unusual circumstances. Those circumstances are classified, and beyond the scope of this document. Their first son, Lt. Commander Christopher Marx, Jr., served on the USS Arcadia, NCC-1742-D, from SD 9505.00 to 10005.15, in the capacities of assistant science officer, brig resident, Security Department Executive Officer, under then-Commander Christopher T. Moose, and Tactical Officer. Commander Marx also served in an unofficial capacity as the Arcadia's Special Operations Command operative, having undergone training at Starfleet's Special Operations School, Ft. Benning, GA, NorthAm, Sol III. During his time serving on the Arcadia, Commander Marx was suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder regarding the death of his fraternal twin sister, Ens. Crystine Marx (see below). Various methods were used to treat the disorder, but was never successfully treated. He was killed in the line of duty after leaving the Arcadia. The circumstances of his death remain classified Top Secret/SCI due to the nature of the mission, and are beyond the scope of this document. Their daughter, Ensign (Dr.) Crystine Marx, served aboard the USS Antietam in the capacity of Medical Officer, from her graduation from Starfleet Medical Academy, with a degree in traditional internal and xenomedicine, until her death. The circumstances surrounding her death are classified at a level higher than Top Secret/SCI, and are therefore beyond the scope of this document. During his first retirement, then-Commodore Marx met and subsequently married Seriana Ravensward. Two children, a second set of fraternal twins, resulted from the marriage--William John and Virginia. After his reactivation and subsequent promotion, Admiral Marx's relationship with his second wife became strained, resulting in an inevitable divorce. The Admiral received joint custody of the twins, until receiving full custody at the request of his ex-wife. Virginia graduated from the Vulcan Science Academy with degrees in Mathematics and Theoretical Mathematics, and is currently serving on the faculty of the esteemed institution. While serving as Rhydin Sector Commander, Admiral Marx had the opportunity to renew a relationship with Admiral Gunji, while under an investigation for possible temporal violations. A romance was renewed, and the two Admirals were married with full pomp and ceremony of a military wedding. Admiral Gunji adopted her husband’s youngest children, to prevent any stigma following them in life. Upon the Admiral's death, due to natural causes, Antietam Ranch was divided into six equal parts-one portion going to each surviving child or their spouse. -=MEDICAL HISTORY=- Lt. Marx suffers from a genetically inherited allergy to the Retnax-series of ocular treatments, forcing the Lieutenant to wear eyeglasses. This allergy was inherited from his father, and has occurred in all three Marx males. Testing at Starfleet Academy, Rhydin, indicate that this genetically inherited allergy only affects the male members of the Marx family, upon reaching puberty. There are no limitations to the Lieutenant's duty assignments as a result of the use of glasses. Psychological Profile Due to an incident while undergoing martial arts training on Rhydin, Cadet Marx exhibits a severe, almost pathological, fear of deep water. The incident, an attack by a predator native to Rhydin known as a "hundredtentacles", involved a young William Marx actually being eaten by the creature. As a result of the attack, Cadet Marx cannot be in water any deeper than 15 feet for any prolonged time. If he is in deeper water for a prolonged length, agitation and nervousness begin. If he has not been removed, catatonia will set in, as he withdraws himself to protect his very sanity. The catatonic state will last until some twenty to thirty minutes after removal from the deep water to shallow water or out entirely. I have tried multiple treatment methods, without successful results. The patient remained unaffected in water up to 15 feet in depth, but the moment he was placed in deeper water, agitation and nervousness set in. After prolonged testing, the patient entered a catatonic state, slowing down his metabolism and respiratory rate, throwing the monitors into panic mode. Group therapy, hypnotherapy and medication did nothing to prevent the patient from going into his catatonic state when placed in deep water. The only way that I found that did not cause the patient to enter a catatonic state was when his sense of honor was required. When I asked him about this, the patient advised me that his sensei always told him 'It is the duty of a martial artist to protect the weak.' It is my recommendation that the patient be waived from deep water training, and to be assigned where the possibilities of encountering deep water will be minimal, as he may present a risk to his shipmates if he were to enter such a situation, unless his sense of honor is required. Signed: /s/ S'Freud Staff Psychiatrist Starfleet Academy, Rhydin -=QUALIFICATIONS=- Lt Marx is a qualified pilot on atmospheric-only, trans-atmospheric, and exo-atmospheric craft and is a qualified helmsman on Antietam-, Galaxy-, and Sovereign-class starships. He is also qualified on all manner of internal combustion powered vehicles. Although he prefers not to use weapons, which is a tenant of his particular school of martial arts, he is qualified on Type I and II phasers, stun grenades, and more traditional edged weapons and firearms. He is also a qualified maintainer of radial and turbine internal combustion engines and a licensed aircraft inspector. ((OOC Note: I want HTML!!!!))

Marx left Sickbay, thinking on what the young Dr. Westler had said: “I’d like to see your wife for a checkup.” Ranko wasn’t much on seeing doctors, never was in all the time that he’d trained with her. Something that her father had ingrained into her. He chuckled to himself, walking the corridors. When Xian Pu was pregnant with Hayden, she was a dream to deal with. Even her food cravings were within the realm of easy. Not so with Ranko. Whenever a craving hit, she wanted something Japanese. Try ordering it from the replicator, and she’d fling it back at Marx or her co-wife. Everything she wanted had to be freshly prepared. The worst though, was the time she wanted fugu. There aren’t many certified chefs on Rhydin to prepare that particular piece of sushi, which left Marx in a lurch, as he scanned the Rhydin restaurant network to find a place on their side of the planet, fly there, place the order, and fly back. By the time he got back, the craving wore off. Kami help him if it happened on the ship. He doubted there wasn’t a certified chef on the ship, and forget about replicated food. Speaking of flying food, as Marx walked into his quarters, he ducked just in time to see a bowl of yakisoba noodles fly across the corridor, and smash against the bulkhead. “Hi honey, I’m home.” “Nihao, Airen,” Shampoo said, hugging him. “Co-wife is very irritable tonight.” Marx kissed his Amazon wife, followed by Hayden. “For some reason she doesn’t want even homemade food today, and she’s had these cravings all day long.” “Oh boy,” Marx muttered. He walked further into their quarters. His redheaded Japanese wife was sitting on the couch. “Hi Ranko.” “Will, you’re home!” Ranko flung herself off the couch, and grabbed her husband, in a glomp worthy of her co-wife. “So how was your day,” she purred. “It was alright. Hayden got slapped by a guest on the ship. “Did she fight back and deck the SOB?” “Diplomatic situation, my dear,” Marx replied, as he sat down. Shampoo joined them, even though Ranko had this look in her eyes that promised pain. The purple haired Amazon ignored it, as a hormonal issue. “Oh. So what else happened during your shift?” ”Physical time. Doc said I was fine.” “I could have told him that, William-kun.” “He’d like to see you.” “No way. Don’t like doctors. Don’t wanna.” “There’s no ifs, ands, or buts about it Ranko. The appointment’s set. You’re going tomorrow.” “Okay,” she replied glumly. “Now why don’t we get something to eat?” “Ok.” “I’ll make my special ramen, Airen. Good for pregnant wives.” “Works for me. I’m going to take a shower before we eat.”