NDak

Shortly before Excalibur left for t-Rogora Captain Ty Montiar watched the viewscreen carefully. It’d been just over a month since the Aida had launched from Adalenne. Their shakedown assignment had been blissfully a quiet one—patrol the Federation-Sheliak border. The Saber-class Aida cruised along cutting through the cosmic clouds of the R’tarej’ Nebula. Montiar had thus far been extraordinarily impressed with the ships’ crew. Lt. Marish exceeded his expectations as a Chief Engineer. The Vulcan S’Kel had wowed him at science, and every one else for that matter. Indeed all of his Senior staff had functioned well. Today figured to be no different. The border had been quiet for over a year now. So quiet, there were only three Starfleet vessels assigned to the entire border. The Sheliak rarely bothered themselves with the Federation…or anyone else for that matter. So patrolling the rather desolate border was an easy and welcome assignment for a crew that was still getting their sea legs. Picking up a cup of coffee, he leaned back into his chair, thoughts wandering else where. He’d heard his old friend Ah-Windu Corizon had finally been drug out from behind his desk and shipped off to the Gamma Quadrant—about time. He’d known Corizon for nearly 20 years, almost their entire collective career. He’d always thought he’d make a fine Commander some day. That was half the reason he took Sheng-Ji on as CENG. Every Dameon he’d ever knew had been a loyal, hard worker—Ah-Windu and Sheng-Ji were no exception. He could just see Ah-Windu in the second seat, never letting the Commanding officer go on away missions. That thought made a small smile crease across his face. Something caught his attention though—the tactical officer—he was young, fresh out of Academy and prone to be overly cautious, likely a good thing in Ty’s opinion. The Arzaban was tracking something unusual, and immediately was calling it to the Captain’s Attention. “Yes,” Ty said turning around coffee cup in hand. “What seems to be the problem, Ensign?” The Arzaban looked worried. His blond locks falling loosely out of the cap he wore. “I am tracking something…unusual in along the border.” Ty lifted his brows. They were currently in a nebula that straddled said border. “What kind of something.” “I am not sure,” Zeno Link said continuing his assessment. “It almost looks like…” “Like what?” “Like a Romulan Shuttle…” “Come again…” “Confirmed…” Zeno said tapping. “A Romulan shuttle entering Sheliak space.” So much for the nice quite shakedown cruise. “Operations,” he said giving a slight nod to Zeno. “Did the Romulans register a flight plan with anyone?” The young human female tapped quickly brining up the requested information. “Not that I can find.” Ty tapped his commbadge, “Commander DiNazo…report to the bridge.” DiNazo’s accented Italian voice chirped over the comm. “Yes Captain on my way.” Montiar turned once more to face the viewscreen. Why the devil would a Romulan ship be out here, let alone crossing into Sheliak space. As far as he knew, the two weren’t friends. Even so, why wouldn’t the have at least filled a flight plan with Sector Command. True relations between the Federation and the Empire could be better, but that didn’t mean that the conventions of space travel should be ignored entirely. “Ensign,” he said directing his voice towards Link. “Short range or long range shuttle?” It occurred to him that there might be more of the pointy eared ones hanging around somewhere. And given their recent aggression in the Gamma Quadrant, that wouldn’t likely be a good thing. “Long range shuttle,” Link said, causing a slight sigh of relief to pass over Montiar as his first officer strolled onto the bridge. “Something wrong Captain?” “Not yet…” “Oh?” “We’re tracking an unregistered long range Romulan shuttle entering Sheliak space.” “Oh,” DiNazo didn’t pretend to know if that was good or bad. “And we care…why?” “You’ve read the reports.” “You’ve got a point. Have we tried to contact them?” Link chimed in. “I don’t think they know we’re here sir. They’re traveling uncloaked, and that shuttle model is equipped with one.” “Interesting…I think we should keep it that way,” Montiar said as he drummed his fingers off his chair…a nervous tick he sometimes had when was unsure of a course of action. “I agree Captain…” The drumming stopped. “How long can we track them for?” “In the nebula,” Link said as he calculated. “Another 30 to 35 minutes. If we stay on our side.” “And if we…accidently cross an imaginary line?” Link smirked, “That’d give us an extra 60 minutes…if we weren’t detected.” Montiar turned to look at his First Officer. DiNazo looked at his Captain for a few moments then nodded his approval. “Are there any Sheliak ships in the region that could detect us?” “None that we’ve seen, sir.” Link said almost looking down to check to be sure, but he’d been watching the sensor screen for over three hours, and he knew that answer was correct. “Keep tracking them,” Montiar said after a few moments. “Helm…Coordinate with Ensign Link to keep us parallel to that shuttle. The helm officer, a young, energetic Bolian nodded quickly. “Aye sir.” Montiar and DiNazo were both pleased that S’Kla was currently buried in her work below decks, no doubt she’d lecture them for hours about how irresponsible this move was, and how dangerous it could potentially be to the crew and relations with both the Romulans and Sheliak. ~~~ The Aida continued to shadow the Romulan shuttle for over 50 minutes before anything productive was accomplished. Patience. Corizon had always stressed that to Montiar. Patience. Apparently the Dameon had something right. After 20 minutes of nothing, Montiar had been ready to simply hail the Romulans and get it over with, but Ah-Windu’s voice kept telling him to wait them out, and they’d eventually reveal their nature. “Captain,” Link’s voice broke the eerie silence that had engulfed the bridge of the Aida. His voice was peculiar as if something had startled him. “Yes,” Montiar said as he swiveled in his chair, eye brows at the tone of voice. “Apparently they’ve been expected.” DiNazo replied first. “What do you mean?” “Three Sheliak warships are intercepting them.” “Tactical status?” “Friendly. They’re been communicating something back and forth between each other. It’s all coded though.” He knew they’d ask. Montiar and DiNazo simultaneously groaned. “On screen.” The view screen flashed momentarily. The nebula caused a bit of interference but not enough to block out the picture. And there it was….a Romulan shuttle and three Sheliak warships. Everyone watching blinked…were they…they were…the Romulans were being escorted. Then…before more reaction could happen…the four ships jumped to warp. “Heading?” “Unsure for certain, but it appears to be towards the Sheliak Homeworld.” “So much for the pleasure cruise.” ~~~ Three days after the occurrence in the nebula. The Aida began observing even stranger occurrences. The Sheliak, while formidable, weren’t known to be overtly aggressive…assertive sure…but never down right aggressive towards anyone. However, three days after the mysterious Romulan incident, the Sheliak began moving along the border. At first, it was in small groups of 5 to 10 ships. Now it was larger 25 to 30, even groups of 50 or more had been spotted by the three patrol ships. It was all very unsettling. So unsettling, that Sector Command had dispatched another 5 Federation vessels to the boarder. Which, was the only good news as far as the Aida Captain was concerned. Something was certainly amiss here, but what? He had no idea. As the movements had grown larger, the proverbial Federation brows began to lift higher. Causing even more alarm. A few days ago, there were only three Federation ships and a handful of Sheliak ships in the entire area. Now…there were god knows how many Sheliak ships and eight Federation vessels with another fifteen arriving within the next two days. In another three days, if the Fleet Movements continued, as Montiar expected, the Federation was going to open communications with the Sheliak… an arduous and precarious maneuver considering the circumstances. The Sheliak were…infamous for their anal retentiveness regarding treaties and intergalactic agreements. And in all likelihood, they could stall the Federation in negative agreements long enough to act out what ever perfidious plan they’d cooked up with the Romulans. ~~~ Freshly back from the Gamma Quadrant, Colonel Maec tr’Aieme stood erect on the flagship of the Sheliak fleet. His ever watchful eyes and ears examining the territory around him, thus he wasn’t even startled when the High Director spoke behind him. “Colonel,” the Sheliak said flatly. “You’ll be pleased to know the Federation has began to dispatch more vessels to the border.” “Excellent.” “They have yet to contact us,” the Director said moving into view. “However, we anticipate they will do so soon enough.” “And when they do?” The Sheliak let out a small chuckle. “We will make sure they’re…occupied.” “Mehnka.” “And for your part?” “I just spoke with Galae Command and Tal’Shiar Headquarters. Everything is going according to plan. Ambassador N’Kedre has secured cooperation from the Klingons should the Dominion become involved.” The Sheliak, had he been able to, would have frowned. “And in this Quadrant?” tr’Aieme smirked. “Patience,” he said. “Patience. They will be dealt with soon enough my friend.” “And the Federation?” “They too will feel the might of our two empires united.” “Long have we watched as the Federation has taken the Sheliak for granted. Long have we watched as they spread their substandard pestilence across the quadrant and now the Galaxy.” “Yes…yes we have. They suspect something, but they have overreached their bounds, and with their allies unable to assist them…they will be unprepared for the storm, and when it crashes upon them…we will sweep over them and they will lay in ruin beneath our wave.”

Kor, Koloth, Kang. Kor, Errand of Mercy (TOS) Koloth, Trouble with Tribble (TOS), Trials and Tribulations (DS9) Kang, Day of the Dove (TOS), Flashback (VOY)

It's all in good fun...besides... I have been bathed in Klingon Bloodwine before...about my second sim on the Talon. Not to mention that time I was in the big pool of Pink Klingon Jell-o with Mn'stral and BcH.... :P :)

Destorie sat morosely in his office going through paper work, as usual. He found that most of his days were spent this way these days. He came in early on shift, and then reviewed the evening security logs and filed them. By then, it was usually 0900 and time for morning tea and a short patrol of the upper decks. By 1100, the night shift reports would be in, and he would be done patrolling the upper decks, so his routine of checking over reports would begin again. Usually this task would be complete by 1300, when he could make a trip to the officer’s mess and grab a bite to eat, while reading over br’tehh reports. When he was done, he could patrol the lower decks and make his way back to his office. Normally, when he was done with his ritualistic patrol of the lower decks, the morning shift would have their reports in for him to look over and then file away. Once done with those, he could begin to assemble yesterday’s full security report, and send it to t’Rexan and tr’Psichore. Then, after contacting the shift leaders for afternoon, he would patrol the command section. By the time he was done, it was usually 1700 or 1800 depending on how long his discussions with the shift leaders had lasted. And this his day was over. Days that went choreographed and on time, were the days he really liked. Everything in order, nothing going wrong…but on this ship...those days were few and far between. As N’Dak worked on the nightly reports and sipped on his tea, he knew that something had to go wrong. It had been weeks since the incident with the Reaent, and with the exception of the attempted murder on tr’S’Bien; and with the luck of this crew—that had to be a sign from the elements that they were in for one hell of a string of ghastly accidents. When he woke up and saw condition yellow lights, he knew he should have stayed in bed, but he’d trudged in work despite the feeling of impeding doom. Just as he started to relax however, relegating the sinking feeling in the back of his mind to the normal paranoia that develops in Security officers mind when nothing goes wrong, he was thrown out of his chair by the violent shaking of the Talon under disruptor fire. Elements! N’Dak picked himself off the floor as the Talon stabilized himself and the Condition Red klaxons blared. Reaching for his t’Liss, he barked a series of orders to D’Heno personnel sending them scrambling into battle stations, preparing for possible boarding. Finally having picked himself up, he holstered his ie’Yakk and headed for the Oira. So much for a nice quite day at the office.

So that explains Virus and Alec! I don't watch much real tv anymore...I watch Family Guy and Adult Swim stuff and when I can I watch some other stuff...but other than news and ESPN...and Sports...not much else.

Small minor update, thanks Tal

::smirks:: I think we can take the drinking wars to another topic boys ;)

With his reports caught up, his conversation with Lo’Ami complete, and his newest lackey briefed and out on patrol, Koshic made his way to his quarters for some rest. Something did not feel exactly right, although he couldn’t place exactly what it was that troubled him. The tingle that ran down his spine was all to familiar. He could feel something was out of place—but given what he’d gone through lately, he wasn’t sure if he should be as alarmed as he normally would by the creeping sensation of anxiety that was running down his back as his boots clicked along the metallic floors of the Arcadia. Afterall, he once again found himself with a set of memories that few had—before it had been Trichon’s long repressed memories. Those were his now too, he’d lived through that horrible affair, just as Trichon had. Not to mention Lo’Ami’s nightmarish visions from the planet of demons. And then there were the images from Moose. When they had tried to meld, Moose had fought the link, sending waves of dark memories into N’Dak—he had seen what Moose has seen…the death of the Arcadia. Hundreds of voices silenced. All of that, coupled with the shift in time could explain his apprehensiveness. For some reason though, he wasn’t entirely sure that was it though. His thoughts had been troubled lately. Despite considerable advances in his meditation and mental discipline, he continued to be haunted by the image of the Romulan N’Dak. What the image was supposed to mean and whether it was somehow tied to the foreboding dark horizon he felt, he could not tell. The ability to clearly see the future, to look past the sand of time had been much sought after over the centuries. To control time, one could master ones on destiny. But few if any could clearly see the future. Premonition was the best even the most talented cleric could ever master, and even then, those foreboding images could be deceiving. It was a talent the young N’Dak had never wished to develop, nor planned. However, he did seem to have an uncanny knack for knowing when things were about to go wrong. The feeling running up his spine now, that was usually the precursor to such events. Finally entering his quarters, he would have to meditate on the matter. Only with the clarity of a free mind could he determine the source of the feeling he had now. Powerful he had become, blessed with immense strength. However, he knew all to well from his past that with out discipline that strength was useless, and even scarier—dangerous to those he cared about. Indeed, he would have to meditate on this feeling for sometime before he could be sure. ``` Fear….great fear…it surrounded the place. In his meditative state of illusion, Koshic could keel the fear. And now the Arcadia crew had begun to succuomb to the great conqueror, the mind killer. The ship was ripe with it now, the starbase radiated it. Koshic opened his eyes, sweat running down his face. His room was dark, the candles had long since burned out. How long had he been meditating? He looked. Interesting. Standing erect again, he opened his eyes fully, taking in the little light provided by the starscape out the window and the light from the starbase. Something was terribly wrong, his earlier suspicions, he knew had now been confirmed. Dressing quickly, Koshic exited his quarters and headed straight for the bridge.

One of my other geeky hobbies is an online politics game called NationStates ( www.nationstates.net ) where you are in charge of your own country and you make descisions that affect your 'people.' You do so by choosing a "position" on an issue. The particular issue in question was on UFO's Abducting the National Animal... "Extraterrestrial lifeforms? Alien invaders? I don't know why we even have to listen to such idiocy!" complains prize-winning physicist Stephanie Falopian, "The idea of 'aliens' on another planet is highly unlikely, and even if they did exist, getting from there to here is technically impossible! I say we forget this nonsense and stop spending our tax dollars on it. Leave this sort of foolishness to the people who attend those 'trekkie' conventions." (emphasis mine) ^_^

The first one was in 1979 and the last one was in the early 90's I think.

May I please have: Libera Animus Ty ^_^

Her name is so much easier to pronounce now ^_^

<---Relic of #Holosuite ;) Though I of course bow to my master, BluRox. ::pays the proper homage then scurries off::

Moose ;)

It was a tie heh ;) Yoda 86% Mace Windu 86% Darth Vader 75% R2-D2 67% General Grievous 67% Emperor Palpatine 56% Obi Wan Kenobi 53% C-3PO 50% Clone Trooper 36% Anakin Skywalker 33% Chewbacca 31% Padme Amidala 28%

And the Bra and Skirt didn't give you away Fred?

Hi welcome to the Fleet! (I prefer A-9 Sauce Fredrica)

LOL....

::imagines Huff playing will Holly::

Hi, welcome to STSF ;)

Three Hours to Zero Hour As mysteriously as they had appeared, the fleet that surrounded Starbase Camelot suddenly cloaked and shimmered off into the openness of space. In approximately three hours, the galaxy would be given a wake up call by The D’Era. On the Oira of the leading warbird, Khre’Riov tr’Shaelon sat nervously watching the stars streak-by. “May the Elements protect us,” he said silently. At the moment nearly 400 Rihan vessels were converging on one point. For the past three months, they had slowly been building up their presence in the quadrant, hours ago they unbeknownst to their ‘allies’ doubled their numbers. As with all things involved with the D’Era, deception was the key. In three hours, the true power of the chosen would be shown for all to see. On Camelot, tr’Aieme calmly looked over his chrono. He had been present the last time the Rihannsu had tried to assert themselves in the Gamma Quadrant. It had been a disaster. But as disaster they had learned from. They had acted to brash, he reminded himself. This time, they would not act so quickly, nor so foolishly. The Battle of the Omarian Nebula had been a reality check, a necessary one at that. For all of their cunning, stratagem, and superior ability to manipulate a situation to fit their needs the Rihannsu had one major issue which had plagued them for years—their arrogance. Unwilling to ever admit someone was superior to them, they had a penchant for underestimating their opponents. However, this time was quite different. A Rihan scholar had once observed that io m’ongoose should never attempt to tackle a c’obra in it’s own den. tr’Aieme had believed that before the Battle of the Omarian Nebula—and he believed that now. However, their was nothing wrong with drawing the Cobra out of his din. Which was exactly what tr’Aieme wished to do. Even better, was how unexpectedly unawares as to the true intent of this fleet that the allies were. It was all tr’Aieme could do not to cackle when N’Kedre told him of the Vorta’s reaction to the fleet decloaking. For all of his posturing, tr’Aieme knew Semil was unhappy with the situation, and the fact that the Rhans has become so influential in the politics of the Gamma Quadrant. Of course, if all went as planned—he would be even more agitated if not infuriated. Figuratively, the Rihans were about to rattle one very, very large saber.

One Hour to Zero Hour Sseibh Maec tr’Aieme watched as the Vorta and the Klingon gave themselves over to a false reality. With arms folded behind his back, he watched carefully making mental notes about each. During the Dominion War, he had fought along side with many Klingons, and he had actually come to respect the brutish race. This Governor K’Vorlag was, tr’Aieme thought, an honorable man—despite what was noted in his Tal’Shiar dossier. The Vorta on the other hand—tr’Aieme sneered even looking at the foul creature—he was another thing entirely. He had read that this Semil…incarnation four by the Tal’Shiar’s count…was the successor off one of the more wretched khlle’s of the Dominion War. And while he had done almost nothing involving the Rihans during the war…he did have an extensively thick file himself in the hallowed halls of the Tal’Shiar. It struck tr’Aieme as ironic that two men, both of which had been harmed so fully by this same device would now surrender themselves to it—to gain information. tr’Aieme questioned this move, but then, of course, Armanate was only of secondary concern to the Tal’Shiar senior agent—for as the lloann’na would say…he had much bigger fish to fry. He glanced quickly at his chrono, checking the time. “Mehnka,” he said to himself. “While the Excalibur is off gallivanting about after some Hundred Ghost, and the Vorta Nei’rrh and the Klingon are immersed in some…dream…we will be busy…rattling the sabers.”

I thought the TNG sets were cool, personally ;)

See that is my problem. Untill now....we've never heard anyone talk about "the great" Captain Archer. Which bothers me, it would be like today if you never talked about George Washington. But...then I've been opposed to this series since day one...so yeah ;)

Au have learned quickly Lloann'na Fvai. ::plays with a bell:: Perhaps next we can train au to speak...or perhaps play yy'a?