Kasta Riap

Someone actually did some statistical research on TOS red shirt deaths. Some quick numbers, the last being the funniest... 72% of deaths happened to Red Shirts. 53% probability of a Red Shirt death. 12% probability of Red Shirt death IF Kirk has an "encounter" with an alien women. My conclusion, if Uhura had just given Kirk her number in the movie Vulcan would have been spared. :blink:

I am a TOS fan. Most all of my TNG characters have had TOS tie ins. My dream is that there will one day be a TOS starbase sim. Oh, and TOS also had the best episode titles.

It was a clear sunny day, walking among one of the most peaceful peoples in the galaxy on his lunch break. Welcome to hell, thought Kasta. It was hot, very hot. Even in the shade heat still radiated out from the sandstone rocks and hills the settlement was situated in. Not the most pleasant place to reside if you grew up on an iceberg. Finding something to eat was as equally traumatic to his system. He was an unashamed carnivore. Meat was tasty but there was none to be found here. Kasta appreciated the Vulcan sense of logic and peace but otherwise there could not be a more opposite group of people from his own in the galaxy. Resigning himself to his lot Kasta found a seat at what seemed one of the more popular eateries that had established itself here. It was still nothing more than a large tent. Inside the proprietor made use of the naturally formed flat topped rocks as tables. Chairs were a mixed set from varied sources but grouped in logical pairings by color, size, and design. A man and two women worked busily behind a long flat rock preparing the orders for waiting customers. A board leaned against the long rock serving as a menu, written in Vulcan script of course. Kasta found a seat at a small rock table on the edge of the tent. He peered quizzically at the board trying to pick out any familiar words but more attempting to draw the attention of any helpful wait staff. Oh yeah, and it was still hot, very hot. "If I had a sense of humor this would probably please it very much." Kasta turned towards the familiar voice. He knew who it was but it took a moment for the image before him to match up with the memory of his former senior officer. The Vulcan female's hair was long and blond. A light sandy brown robe open at the sides covered what otherwise was a simple off-white jumpsuit. A short sash with Vulcan script embroidered down the center hung over her left shoulder and a choker with a single bluish stone at the center wrapped around her neck. It was quite a different sight than the face inside a polar suit he'd known for nearly six months on that Klingon block of ice. "If you truly had no sense of humor you would not have hinted at the irony of the situation." Kasta said with a smile. Sotova arched a brow and for a moment it almost seemed like the edges of her lips twitched as if holding back a smile of their own. Waving his hand towards the other chair, "Please, have a seat. You can help me order." The two sat for a few moments in idle conversation about the finer details of a vegetarian menu and now were eating their salads, which were not all that bad, though Kasta still made of point of not admitting such. "So, how are things going here," Kasta asked. "We are settling in peacefully." "And the logic of holding back information from me is?" Riap paused expectantly. Sotova didn't look up as she took another bite of her salad. "I understand your people's desire for privacy. My people share it. Ignoring help however is not logical and pretending everything is fine borders on some type of psychosis." Sotova sat her fork down gently, her eyes still downcast. "There are difficulties. The social patterns that support much of our way of life have been destroyed." She spoke with careful and deliberate wording as if one wrong syllable could cause a landslide of emotional failure. "Many methods of emotional suppression are gone. Some have turned to more extreme alternatives to cleanse the last of their emotions but are unprepared for such rigors. The worst of emotions; fear and uncertainty are the most pressing on our defenses. Most of our people are managing the adjustments needed, but not all. We must return to a semblance of our social order soon to restore the balance." "Security on my ship seemed concerned about contraband items. Normally that would mean pleasure inducing medications and compounds. I would assume the abuse of emotional suppressants should be their real focus?" "Indeed." Her eyes finally rose to meet Kasta's gaze. "There are those desperate enough for control over their feelings to take such dangerous measures." Kasta looked deep into her eyes for a moment. "I would ask you about your own dealings with emotional control if this were not such a public place. Perhaps a private walk later." Quickly changing subjects before she could react, "There are other things we should talk about anyways." Sotova's eyes closed for a moment as she refocused herself. "Yes, there are." Reaching up she gently touched the stone within the choker she wore. The casual act hid the activation of an acoustic jamming field and sound wave canceling device. The field would prevent local recording devices from transmitting and produced a destructive negative image sound wave beyond a few feet rendering their speech inaudible. Touching his communicator Kasta activated a similar device. Then, he drew out a tiny book from his pocket with gold Vulcan calligraphy on the cover. The whole thing was not more than 10 centimeters long and looked like a prayer book of some type with a light gold and silver chain attached to the spine. "The book is from me." Kasta smiled. "The data is in the chain. Third link from the clasp. It's as complete a list as we have of Romulan agents that might attempt to infiltrate this colony. There is also a list of Vulcan ID files we know have been compromised and might be used for false passports." "My position in the emigration ministry will give me access to compare these with those who arrive legally. My agents will take care of any others." She took the book and chain and slipped them into an inside pocket of her cloak. "So, I guess you changed your mind about retirement?" "My original intent for returning to my people can not be fulfilled as I wished." "Oh?" A visible wave of emotion crossed over her face followed instantly by the tightening of muscles to bring such a display under control . "I have a condition in which I can not bear children. It is illogical to retain my mate while I search for a cure so I have loosed him from our bond." Her eyes darted away looking at nothing and avoiding contact with anyone. "We are too few in number now to waste such time. I have little of value to give to my people except my former training." "Hope." Her eyes turned to Riap. "What?" "If you have to go dabbling in emotions on me why not try hope. The totally illogical, over emotional belief in hope. The hope that you can find your place, you can make that difference, you can do for your people what no one else can do. It is just as illogical as despair... but easier to deal with." "Are you attempting to shame me back into line?" She regained some of her composure though the line was still taut that she walked. "Shame would be an emotion as well. Come. Maybe we should have that private walk now. Show me around your new home here."

For those that use Memory Alpha for Trek research be warned it seems their site may have been compromised. Over the last two days when I've accessed it my browser has switched to other sites, closed down, or started other "virusy" actions. Nothing I haven't been able to quickly cancel out of but unsettling none the less. So you may want to avoid that site for a little while unless you have active virus protection going on.

Some of the terms and facts for playing an Intel Officer I have taken from the old FASA Star Trek RPG source book Star Fleet - Intelligence Manual. Two days out and all went well. Not that much could have gone wrong. Except for several upgraded systems this was a tried and true starship design well tested in a number of roles. Also, in the big galactic picture of things they weren't out of their own backyard yet, kitchen maybe but not past the frig yet. Navigation at the moment was a simple dot to dot sequence of well managed astrogation traffic lanes. Kasta made use of it to observe the virtual course plots with their actual data and fine tune the system. Otherwise it was simple button pushing. The button he was pushing at the moment though never felt simple. He sat at the computer terminal in his quarters pressing a sequence into the communications panel. With the final keystroke his screen lit up with the seal of Starfleet Intelligence. Tapping another sequence on the screen display caused a quick scan to sweep over him before the soft voice of the computer spoke, "SECLAR level 5 access granted." Level 5 access, it sounded so grand. Intel was never such a thing though. He shared the same level of clearance as the Captain but that too meant little. Technically he could "read the Captain's mail" if he wanted. He could also step out of an airlock if he really wanted. He wasn't in the mood to do either, as both had about the same consequence. And there was that ever pesky "Captain's eyes only" stamp. A lowly level 1 command could come down the pipe that any deckhand would have clearance to read but with that seal upon it and the doors were shut, shields up, no dice. It was all about "Need To Know". Most security officers and department heads shared a SECLAR level 3 rating. That however did not give them the need to nose in on each others business. Such actions had consequences, the first of which was their activity popping up on Kasta's alert report. If the access was unwarranted then it only got worse from there. So far almost all of the clearance requests were for crewmen and officer bios. Quite normal as the crew began to learn about each other. Besides the accessing of bios, Lt.j.g. Riap's daily reports listed a couple of sector reports, the latest fleet movement reports along the Klingon boarder, a surveillance holo of a suspected Orion pirate, and a scattering of operative reports from ships in the area. About the same as yesterday. Probably the same as tomorrows. Kasta hadn't chosen this assignment to read fancy reports though. He was here to write then! Right in the thick of things, skimming the hostile boarders of Klingon and Romulan space, and venturing beyond. It was his job, the job of this whole ship and crew to go out there and look into the unknown and make a safe universe for the Federation of Planets. Now that, that sounded grand.

...sometime before the launch of the USS Comanche Creek. Security Clearance (SECLAR) level 7... It felt like home. Granted, Kasta Riap grew up on an ice sheet with a 2 year winter. So overall this little ice rock in Klingon territory wasn't all that bad. His homeworld actually was just a mere 5 lightyears away, just across the boarder so even the stars lay in somewhat familiar shapes. When you could see the stars. At the moment a heavy snow was falling and the evening sky was shielded from sight. His partner was equally comfortable, being an Andorian. Their Vulcan superior officer however spent most of her time down inside the ice cave they called home. Thakara took no end in the delight of ribbing the Vulcan of her poor luck with such an assignment. Sotova took it with a normal Vulcan stoicism. Kasta understood even if they were better conditioned for this environment they both were mere Ensigns at the moment and the Vulcan had the experience to get them home alive. Thakara would eventually agree, dieing on your first Intel assignment never looked good when promotions came around. Their assignment at the moment was observing and cataloging the prisoners being taken to the Klingon gulag situated underground. As each new batch of convicts would arrive they would look for missing Federation citizens, known allies and informants within the Empire, and anyone else of "interest". Kasta and Thakara would peer out of the snow hidden lavvu [type of low tent or tipi] and photograph the inmates from a distance and Sotova would pull details from each picture and search for familiar faces almost from memory. Their commanding officer had dubbed them the "Ah"-Team, some reference tyeing the ending of each of their names with a mythological Terran saga. Being the sole human in the group Kasta still missed the reference but did agree they made an effective team. And the latest group of the damned were just coming into view through the thick snowfall. "Small group today." Kasta whispered. "I count three inmates, 2 guards. Oh, look... "Stumpy" is back on guard duty." Thakara frowned, "I sure was hoping that Targ bite would of taken him out." Kasta snapped a few pictures then zoomed in on the faces of the inmates as they stood listening to the always long winded speech of the prison warden. He could make out one Klingon, what might have been a Hastian or Trigoth, and a humanoid of some type. "Is that human....smiling?" Thakara focused in."Yeah, he must be mad or hasn't a clue what's in store for him." As they both looked on, the figure turned his gaze skyward letting the wind whip back the hood of his ragged cloak. "It's a Vulcan!" Thakara blurted out, distance and the howling wind saving them from being spotted. "Are you sure about that? I've never seen a tattooed Vulcan before. Or a smiling one for that matter." "What is he looking at?" "The sky for the last time probably. Come on, they're taking them down. Let's see what Sotova has to say about this." Little under an hour later the three were in the cave that was home. Kasta sat cross legged on a rock ledge covered in blankets that served as his bed, with his back against the wall. Sotova leaned over the table with the photo images spread out across it. Several cloaks were wrapped around herself and the heater set right at her feet. Thakara wasn't doing much sitting, standing every few minutes to pace the floor while impatiently waiting on the Vulcan. Finally, "I believe he may be Romulan." Thakara stopped instantly in his tracks. "Besides the Kelvin Incident they've been out of sight for a hundred years." Kasta said. "What's one doing out here?" "Are you sure he's a Romulan?" Thakara added. "The emotion he openly showed would indicate he is not Vulcan. Also, the facial decorations match those of the other Romulan prisoners held here." The two ensigns exchanged puzzled looks. The Andorian beating the Human to the next blunt question, "What?!" "That data is SECLAR 6 but it may become mission sensitive in the near future. An inside source indicated a group of Romulans were being held here. The tattoos this one wears matches the description given of the others. The data reliability was set at Class E but it seems that may need to be reevaluated." "Do you think he'll be a target for extraction?" Kasta's question brought a smile to the eager lips of his Andorian friend. "I do not know. Commander Briant's original briefing on this matter made it clear there was additional data outside of my own security clearance. We will have to wait for our next communications window for further orders." She looked at Kasta then Thakara, "But make preparations in the event we are cleared for such a mission." The two ensigns barely had time to exchange a smile before a low rumble shook ice and dust down from the cave ceiling. In a flash all three were moving towards the cave mouth as the ground rumbled again. Emerging into the now clear night a green streak could be seen in the heavens moving quickly towards the prison camps location. This one smashed through the planetary shielding and impacted hard against the localized shields of the prison camp. The rising cloud of steam and dust indicated those shields too had been broken by something of incredible power. Looking skyward they saw nothing except what seemed to be a looming dark shape only making itself known as it blocked the stars behind. A red line shot across the sky towards the undefined shape and as the photon torpedo exploded a monstrous ship burst into view. Large slowly curving spikes extended forward on the craft. It turned with freighting speed for it's mass, opening up fire on it's tiny attacker. Large explosions indicated at least 4 craft were just destroyed. Sotova opened her tricorder while Kasta and Thakara began scanning the skies with their binoculars. "I'm picking up what is probably transporter beams inside the prison. I can not make any scans of that ship." "I see a group of 5 Klingon ships closing in." said Thakara. "Ten more just warped in." Kasta added. The battle above cast flashing shadows of red and green across the planets surface. One after another the Klingon ships exploded and ripped apart like flaming roses in bloom. More and more the heavens were raining down silver streaks as the wreckage burned in reentry towards the planet. Finally the horrific meteor shower was all that remained of what they counted as 47 Klingon ships, butchered within an hours time. The great dark shadow again only visible from the stars it hide until with a sudden flash it warped away and was gone. They sent a direct message towards Federation space, coded to sound like a Klingon signal explaining what had happened. Their own low band signal requesting extraction went unanswered. It would be three weeks before the merchant ship that slipped them supplies was allowed back into the area and was able to deliver them home. Not until then did they know what had fully happened. Somehow though, Sotova knew. Vulcan was gone. They were all awarded for their actions but as usual in Intel work the medals would never be seen. The commendations would never appear on most transcripts. Their footnote in history would be filed away. The one tangible award was the open choice of their next assignments. Sotova retired from service though and joined what remained of her people. Thakara asked for the first assignment he could get and vanished back into the dark world of Starfleet Intel. Kasta took a week's leave to his homeworld to ponder what to do now. After a few small assignments he took advantage of the situation. He now stood looking out a viewport, sipping champaign, and smiling as the lights of the USS Comanche Creek flashed on brilliantly, the stars beyond waiting for them.