Wes Roberts

Starship Revenge Main Briefing Room 1545hrs, 2 January, 2387 (BGM: Transformers: Deciphering the Signal) Entering the briefing room, Wes noted that his staff, other than those chasing down rumors of the Tjurakh, were present and seated. “Ladies and gentlemen,” as he sat down at the head of the table, “I want you to make contingency plans for deploying to Sector 030 for emergency evacuation operations.” The ship's officers noticed that he wasn't wearing SOE black, but his more traditional uniform from his privateering days—the tan shirt, green pants, and hessian boots. Egeanin looked up at former Dread Pirate. “Evacuation operations? Just exactly *what* are we evacuating? One of the old Earth Outposts?” “No. We'll be evacuating ch'Rihan.” Wes replied blandly, as he took a sip of coffee, and looked around the table. The looks his staff gave him were of shock and awe. “Wes,” G.W. growled, “why are we evacuating ch'Rihan? “This information is not to leave this room. A star near Romulus is beginning to show increased signs of going nova. As for when, there are no firm dates. But this information is of a sufficient nature to warrant an All Points out to the Allies, as well as causing Subcommander tr'Jeth Dabi a distinct panic attack, and will probably cause him some sleepless nights before they get to Romulus.” There were some chuckles around the table. “What I need for you, ladies and gentlemen, are to begin preparations for departure at any time. And that will include coordinating with Station Operations for drawing out stores, including emergency rations and medical supplies.” “I'll have the engines warmed up and kept in that state, Wes,” O'Donnell added. Wes nodded. “Egeanin, lay in courses for multiple destinations. Right now, we have no information on staging areas or refugee camps. Our best bet for a staging area would be in the vicinity of Syrma. “Frank,” the named watch officer looked at Wes, “you're now promoted to Acting Executive Officer. Signal Khaiell to drop whatever he's doing, light the fires and rendezvous near Syrma. You'll also handle all the coordination between this ship and the Station. “Captain Chirakis may come aboard at some point once we get the actual deployment order. You'll to render proper customs and courtesies to her. “Ladies, Gentlemen, there's a lot to be done, and not a lot of time to do it in. Let's get it started.”

SS Revenge Currentlyin holding orbit Sky Harbor Aegis 0015 ship time Maighdinwas cuddled up against her husband, who was currently dead to theworld in their in-port cabin. A long day of reports, meetings andgeneral drudgework knocked Wes out. Who knew being SOE'srepresentative in Aegis spacecould be so...soul draining. And reports from Khaiell were less thanencouraging. A chime threatened to drag the former pirate fromthe pleasantly warm dreams he was having. The chime sounded again,this time successfully pulling him from the dream. His hand slappedthe intercom. “Wha,” he growled sleepily. “Codedmessage from Starfleet Command, Wes,”the night shift operations officer said. “Well, decode itand leave it on my desk until the morning.” “Sorry,sir, but it's flagged EyesOnly.” That caught his attention. Wes rolled out of hiswife's embrace, and out of bed. “Send it to myterminal.” “Already done, sir.” Aquick authentication to the ship's computer, and the file wasdecrypted. The text scrolling along the screen was less thanreassuring to Wes. -=-=-Beginningof Message-=-=- TO:Commander, Starship Revenge FM:Commander, Starfleet Special Operations Command. SUBJ:Promotion Pursuant to Starfleet General Order 29, you arehereby promoted to the position of Executive Officer, SkyHarbor Aegis,effective this Stardate. Assignment to Starfleet Special OperationsCommand is to become a secondary function, as is command of theStarship Revenge. StarshipRevengewill remain in Aegisspace for the duration of your assignment as Executive Officer of SkyHarbor Aegis,and at your disposal, as well as all vessels and personnel assignedto Revenge. Therewill be no need to respond to this message, receipt of your promotionwill be acknowledged by station log updates toSFHQ. Congratulations, Mr Roberts -=-=-End ofMessage-=-=-

Revenge ParkingOrbit 1000km from Sky Harbor Aegis 6December, 2386 Wes sat in his office aboard the Revenge, reviewing the station's unclassified reports and logs, Bach's Brandenburg Concerti in thebackground. "Pirates," he muttered, after looking over theTjurakh reports, "we'll have to see just how much of a threat these warlords are." He hit the comm stud on his desk. "Khaiell, report to my office." A couple of the Romulan first officer stepped into the ready room from the bridge. "You wanted to see me, Wes?" "I want you to take the Wild Stallion and a small crew and go reconnoiter the local sector." "Anything I should be looking in particular?" "Tjurakh pirates. See who's supporting them,where they're getting their equipment and financial support. And maybe acquire a couple of prisoners for interrogation." "Right. Anyone in particular I should take with me?" "Talk to GW about drawing out a squad or two of marines. And you may want to take the Dirty Pair for gunnery detail." The Romulan shuddered as Wes continued. "Do try to limit their destructive tendencies but if push comes to shove, weapons free. You'll also have access to our black budget, through a front accounts to assist in you cover as a free trader. If you happen to successfully turn a profit,excellent." "Understood. As soon as I have my team assembled, we'll depart."

Redemption, Part 4 Fairmont San Francisco San Francisco, Sol III, Sector 001 2000 hrs UCT 1200 Hours Local "Will you accept their offer, Wes," Maighdin asked, seated at the dining table in his suite at the Fairmont. Lunch sat on the table, the room service cart discreetly off to the side. A glass Charles Krug Cabernet was held in her hand. Wes looked up from his meal, and set his knife and fork down. "I don't know, Mai. It sounds like its too good to be true. Full pardon, a civilian position within Starfleet, legitimate privateering, and a shiny new ship? I don't know." "Wesley, you were the first male of any species to treat me as person, not property. That is why I always did, and will, call you 'My Lord', and why I stayed aboard after you released my sisters. I always want what is best for you, and for us. I want you to take this job. You'll bring honor back to your family, and back to your name. You are, even if that bastard Ikari never saw it, a good person with a pure heart. As either Christopher or Wesley, you are the man I married. And that will not change." Wes smiled at his wife. "You always were able to convince me. Which is why I fell in love with you in the first place. I'll let General Maden know later. Today is simply for us." -=-=- Wes stepped off the transporter pad on the Revenge and looked around. There was absolutely nothing that distinguished this transporter room from any number of modern starships. "Nope, no character whatsoever. At least the old Revenge had class." "The old Revenge was a conglomeration of different eras and starships flying in extremely close formation," Maden replied as he also stepped down from the platform. "The goal of the Kelvin was parts bin. Everything that a Sovereign has, a Kelvin has. So repair depots only have to stock similar replacement parts. Also makes it easier for upgrades. We've also added a few special features. There's a docking adapter for any SOCOM light freighters on the weapons pod, allowing you to carry the Wild Stallion as a secondary vessel, and you've got two flights of Wraith fighters in your aft hangar. And, knowing of your preference for an 'at-sea' cabin, the bridge module was redesigned from the standard Sovereign module to shifting the captain's ready room aft and combining it with the observation lounge into your cabin." The tour itself finished up with the party entering the bridge. "Khaiell!" "Wes?" The former Romulan pirate turned from the station he was working on. "Captain, its good to see you again." "What are you doing here?" "General Maden and Khre Riov Lhaes made me an offer I couldn't refuse after Caer Bannog, Captain. Liaise with the Federation or be executed as a traitor to the Empire. I'm glad to have made the former choice. We'll bring honor to the name Revenge. Most of the old crew are on board already, and managed to stay out from behind bars." "Good. I'd like to have my command crew not being bailed out every port of call. Has the Wild Stallion docked yet?" Egeanin turned around from the conn. "Just coming into position now." Wes turned around. "General, with your permission, we'd like to get underway." "Of course, Mr. Roberts. Good hunting." Maden walked into one of the turbolifts. "Wild Stallion's docked, crew transferred aboard. General Maden has beamed over to the yard offices. Course heading?" Maighdin slipped into one of the secondary chairs in the command pit as Wes settled into the center seat and tried to get comfortable. "Caledonia IV. Then we'll head out to neutral space."

Starfleet Command Headquarters San Francisco, Sol III, Sector 001 2386 November 14 1715 hrs UCT 0815 Hours Local Wes was ushered into the CINC's office; General Maden and the CINC sitting there. Coffee and pastries sat on the sideboard. “Mr. Marx, thank you for coming. Or do you prefer 'Mr Roberts'?” The CINC asked, moving behind his desk, motioning for both Maden and Wes to sit. Pulling his cloak in tight, Wes took the offered chair. “'Mr Roberts' is fine, Admiral. Its the name I've been living under for the past 10 or more years.” After serving the flag officers, steward offered Wes a cup of coffee, which he graciously took. The steward quietly quietly slipped out of the CINC's office. “Mr. Roberts,” Maden began, “we have an offer for you. No strings attached, you can refuse at any time. However, your pardon and the expunging of your records are not part of the deal. The President has granted that to you, for services rendered as an unofficial Federation privateer. We'd also like to give your 'Wesley Roberts' alias a background.” “So why, after all these years, am I being pardoned? I'll admit to living under numerous aliases makes for an interesting life, but it does get old after awhile.” “Your planet, Caledonia IV, petitioned for Federation membership while you were running contraband out of Baham,” the CINC said. “Several groups, particularly of the survivors that you rescued and interred there, spoke quite highly of your administrative skills and concern for those under your care. So much so, JAG reopened their investigation and, when compiled with the data retrieved from the Revenge's memory banks, indicated that you attacked only when circumstances dictated, and helped Starfleet's anti-piracy patrols. I hear several Orion cartels have placed multi-billion credit bounties for your head. Preferably on a silver platter. “General Maden, was instrumental in these investigations as well, and lead to the pardons to your crewmembers. Your wife was also quite active in petitioning the former slave communities that have cropped up on several Federation systems. Several of which were organized by those you and your crew captured and released.” There was a quiet click as side door opened. Wes perked up as he picked up the exotic perfume of his wife; a scent he hadn't smelled since leaving her behind on Caledonia to meet with Ikari's fleet at Caer Bannog. “Mr Roberts,” General Maden took up, “we'd like to offer you a civilian position within Starfleet's Special Operations Command, Special Operations Executive branch...” “Why me? Why not someone from within Starfleet already?” “Because, Mr. Roberts, no one I could name for General Maden would meet his criteria. Very few Starfleet officers have any sort of initiative to getting the job done, no matter how many feathers it may ruffle,” the CINC said. “What SOE requires is independent thought and action, a return, if you will, to the days of Jon Archer and Jim Kirk where actions spoke louder than reports. And because you prowled the unexplored sections of the Beta Quadrant, we've been able to use the navigational data from the Revenge to send follow-on expeditions. “That's why we want you, Mr. Roberts.” “I see,” Wes replied. Maighdin had placed a placating hand on her husband's shoulder. “And if I accept your offer, what do I get?” General Maden continued. “Your assignment will be in the vicinity of Aegis, if you wish to use her as a home port, by all means, continue to do so. Wild Stallion will remain under your command. As will her...” A viewscreen activated, showing what looked like the offspring of the Arcadia-E and the Manticore—a Sovereign-class variation of the venerable Nebula-class, complete with dorsal mounted weapons pod. “She's the new Revenge, a Kelvin-class heavy cruiser. Not listed in the Starfleet ship's registry, we took possession of her a few months ago right out of the Portsmouth orbital yard, and the crew has been working her up to shakedown. “She's fast, powerful, and should be able to take on anything the Breen or Dominion can throw at you.” “'Should', General? Your confidence in her abilities are overwhelming me,” Wes interjected, with a distinct hint of sarcasm. “None of her class have entered combat with either the Breen or Dominion, coming too late for the Dominion War. However, simulations and wargame results are indicative of a high rate of success against heavy vessels from both navies.” Wes thought for a moment, before looking at the new Revenge and flag officers in the office. “I would like some time to think this over. As well as get to know my wife again.” The CINC nodded. “”Of course. As of now, your identity as 'Wesley Roberts' officially exists within Federation and allied databanks. All assets that were under your alias, and subsequently frozen after Caer Bannog are released. Enjoy your time, Mr Roberts. And let us know if you'll take the offer.” Wes stood, letting his cloak flow down. “Of course,” he replied, leaving the office with Maighdin. As the door slid closed, the CINC looked at Maden. “Will he take the offer?” “He will. Roberts has an honorable streak in him three parsecs wide. And if he doesn't his wife will convince him its the right thing to do.” “At least with his birth identity being 'dead', that's one less Marx with a Praetorian death mark on his head.” “Indeed. I'll have to tell you the story behind that sometime, Admiral.” Maden replied, a smirk evident on his face.

Redemption, Part 2 Sky Harbor Aegis 2386 October 23 Wes was seated at his usual table at Chez Que, cappuccino and a jesuite sitting on the table in front of him. “Spam spam spam spam...Lovely spam! Wonderful spam!" "Shut up! Bloody Vikings!" “Ah, new mail. Hmm...encrypted? I haven't received anything encrypted in ages. At least not since...SFSOCOM heading tag? Damn, that'll be a heavy encryption. I doubt even the Romulans have cracked the latest ones yet.” Finishing his cappuccino and jesuite, he cleared his tab and headed for the docking ring. -=-=- Shedding his cloak once aboard the Wild Stallion, Wes moved to the auxiliary control station in the main cabin and let the decryption program run. The screen flared to life first with the Starfleet Special Operations Command command patch, dissolving into General Maden's face. “Good afternoon Mr. Roberts. Or should I say Commander Marx. Yes, I know who you really are. As does the CINC and Federation President. “We are aware of the circumstances of your tenure as the Dread Pirate Roberts, Commander, and Starfleet and the Federation is willing to offer you a full pardon for the charges brought up against you by Admiral Ikari. We also have an offer for you. Now, I know you're there as a freetrader and mercenary, providing assistance to the station during the recent Breen incursion and the Deosi resettlement. “All the CINC and I ask is that you return to Earth, for a meeting at Starfleet Headquarters, in 3 weeks. We'll advise all commands to allow the Wild Stallion free passage from Aegis to Earth. Appended to this message are transponder codes that will reclassify your ship as a SOCOM-registered light freighter. “I look forward to our meeting in three weeks. General Maden, out.” Wes sat in the terminal's seat and leaned back in shock. Legitimacy and a full pardon? There was clearly some joke behind General Maden's offer. But it was there. He hadn't known General Maden during his tenure in SOCOM, but he'd heard of his reputation. A fair, if hard, commander and one willing to take chances but would back up his troops when the organic matter hit the rotary air oscillator. Keying in the new transponder codes, Wes opened his fliptop communicator. “Captain al'Thor to Control.” “Go ahead, Captain.” “Wild Stallion is requesting a departure clearance.” “Understood, Captain. You're clearance is approved. Clear skies.”

Starfleet Command Headquarters San Francisco, Sol III, Sector 001 2386October 21 1815 hrs UCT 0915 Hours Local "General, the CINC will see you now," the Orion Commander, and CINC's assistant, said. "Thankyou, Commander." General Maden said, gathering up his satchel, andentered the office of the Commander in Chief, Starfleet. "Admiral." "General. Please sit. What brings you out from MacDill?" "Wesley Roberts, Admiral. The alias for Lieutenant Commander ChristopherMarx." The CINC stiffened. He'd read the list of charges that Admiral Ikari had formally charged Mr. Marx, as Roberts, with. "What about him?" "Itseems, Admiral, that Ikari didn't have the whole story. JAG buried his case so deep in red tape, that it takes two weeks just to findthe file. Marx, for all Ikari's bluster, was acting as an unlicensed privateer, working towards Federation interests under current anti-piracy regulations." "And the crews of the ships he, as Roberts, and his merry band captured? The ones that were reportedlyspaced?" "Pirate and slaver crews only. Most of the inhabitants of Caledonia are survivors of the ships he'd rescue from the pirates. Except the southern continent, but that's just a penal colony." "So what's your interest in him, General?" "I want him, Admiral. I want him as part of SOE. He and his merry band of freebooters can handle those dirty missions that we can't officially answer for." The CINC leaned back in his leatherchair, his fingers steepled. "What do you want for him?" "Full pardon of all crimes committed as Roberts, Marx stays buried in the family plot on Rhydin, and we hire him on as civilian staffer. Besides, we've finally pardoned his crew and expunged their records." "And his assignment, General?" "We have something in mind, Admiral. We're still working out the details of the assignment." The CINC sighed. "The Allies are not going to like having a former pirate working for Starfleet on that station. The Romulans are paranoid enough as it is, and the others feel we're not pulling our own weight. But I'll talk to the President and his counsel, see what they say and see if they can keep the Allies from pulling out of the station. "If the President approves, how are you going to contact him? This can'tbe sent through normal channels." "Mr Marx...acquired a SOCOM light freighter, the Wild Stallion, after Ikari drummed him out of Starfleet. We'll just encrypt the message with a SOCOM algorithm that's already impossible to crack, and send it direct to the Stallion." "General, you have an answer for everything." "I like to have a plan for everything. Makes my job much easier." tbc

Revenge Cruising Federation Space 6 years ago (Aegis relative) The ship's bells chimed five times in the middle of the evening watch,and Wes rolled over in his sleep. Maighdin's arm wrapped around him and she snuggled as close to him as her pregnant belly allowed. Family life was apparently treating Wes quite well, as some of his decrees as the defacto ruler of Caledonia definitely more family oriented. The intercom next to the bed chirped...then chirped again. With a drowsy slap, Wes hit the button and grunted. "Sorry to disturb you, Captain," Third Officer Roberts' voice came through the hundred year old speaker. "We're picking up a distress call—civilian freighter Thor's Tvíburar under attack by unidentified ships." "How far out?" Wes was starting to wake up, a tactical portion of his mind acknowledging that they may be into combat soon. "Ten minutes Captain. Her distress call damn near blew out the bridge speakers." He was sitting up, feet on the floor; Maighdin was already pulling on a track suit, and throwing her husband's on to the bed. "Mr Roberts, sound battlestations, and plot an intercept course. Ahead maximum warp." "Yes sir." The intercom clicked off, but the ship's internal paging crackled tolife, with the accompanying red flashing lights and klaxons. "General quarters, general quarters, all hands man your battlestations. General quarters, general quarters, all hands man your battlestations." -=-=- "Approaching coordinates, Captain," Egeanin reported. "Dropping to sublight." The Revenge dropped out of warp, her impulse engines driving her into towards the debris field that was the last reported position of Thor's Tvíburar. "Doesn't look good for the civilians, sir. Negative lifesigns, negative escape pods, positive organic material. And three ships matching the configuration of Black Kris dreadnoughts leaving information. Looks like 5 light minutes out." "Egeanin, plot a warp jump ahead of them. Gareth, weapons lock on their engines and shield generators." Khaiell looked over at Wes. "Are you sure that's wise? Taking on three dreadnoughts by ourselves?" "Have I ever steered us wrong, Khaiell?" "No, but it seemsthat we'll be taking on more than we can handle this time." The Revenge made its jump, and opened fire on the Orion dreadnoughts. The pirate ships broke formation as the lead vessel's port nacelle erupted into a shower of sparks and plasma. Her sisters came in and returned fire on, trying to drive the Revenge away. Wes stubbornly held his ground, phasers and torpedoes blazing away. The second dreadnought exploded, a warp nacelle flung into the damaged first ship's impulse deck, totally disabling her. The third dreadnought turned tail and jumped to warp, her shield generators knocked out. On the bridge of the Revenge, Wes smirked. "Stand down battlestations,maintain Yellow Alert. GW, away boarders." "Standard procedure, Captain?" Wes nodded. "Standard procedures. Free any captives and slave girls; space the pirates." The Tellarite nodded, and left the bridge. "Damage report." "Some shock damage to ship's systems, Captain. Engineering is on it." "Very good, Egeanin. Bring us alongside, and extend the docking tunnel." "Looks like GW decided to space the pirates first, my Lord." "Indeed it does, Maighdin. And while Starfleet may consider us pirates, I prefer to consider us to have a moral responsibility. Yes, we attack civilian ships, but we don't space the crew. Yes, we'll take captives and hold them for ransom, but we don't return a corpse. We don't attack defenseless colonies and outposts. "There's beensome grumbling amongst the new crewmembers we picked up at Tor'tug A,and I'll admit to being remiss in briefing them as to how we operate. I want you, my senior officers, to remind them of my policies, onesthat have seemed to have kept this crew together and profitable..." "Captain, sensors have just picked up a ship dropping out of warp near the remains of the Thor's Tvíburar. Getting a tentative ID now...Sovereign-class warship...IFF coming up USS Arcadia, NCC-1742-E." "Crap. Egeanin,open a channel to GW, and start locking on to lifesigns." "You're on,Captain." "GW, we're running out of time. Starfleet's shown up too little, too late. But since we're the only ship under power, they'll think we attacked both the Orions and the Thor's Tvíburar. We're going to do a mass beam out into the aft hangar. We'll separate the wheat from the chaff there." "Right Captain. Alright you louts..." The transmission ended with GW shouting to his personnel nearest to him, before he changed channels and contacted the rest of his team aboard the dreadnought. "Energize at your discretion. As soon as everyone's aboard, punch it." "Aye sir." "So, Wes, what are we going to do with any of the pirates we haven't spaced yet?" "They'll get achance to reform themselves, Khaiell. I'm going to dump them on that empty southern continent, you know the one separated by 10 thousand kilometers by ocean from any other continent, with just enough supplies to colonize it. We'll probably keep an eye on them overtime, and see how they do." The Romulan just sighed. "Your planet, Wes, and your rules. Who knows, maybe in a hundred years, we'll be applying to the Federation for membership as a 'lost colony'." Wes looked at him and laughed, as the Revenge once again slipped out from under the noses of the Starfleet, and shot to warp.

Yes. Oh wait...did I say that out loud?

Revenge Enroute to Caledonia IV Wes's in port cabin had been set up for the dinner. The table set, the silver from the service of Admiral Tairan, the crystal acquired from the Grand Nagus' own ship, the china from a Romulan senator's baggage. The artwork on the walls were from various masters from known space included an original Manet that was on its way to an outer colony and somehow got diverted from its final destination. In the ship's galley, delicacies from all over known space were being prepared, while several bottles of a Mhiessan label Romulan Ale were being decanted. Music by Vivaldi, Mozart and Brahms cycled through in the background. As the ship's bell chimed seven times in the last dog-watch (1900 hrs, ship's time), the senior surviving officers of the Cunard Victoria and Starfleet entered, under escort from the Revenge's marines. Roberts stood, mask set in place. “Ladies, gentlemen, welcome aboard the Revenge. I do apologize for not being able to meet with you earlier, securing our prizes, running the ship. As you know, typical command concerns.” Wes turned to his Tellerite officer. “GW, make sure that there are guards posted outside.” GW grumbled and grabbed a glass of Ale, before sticking his head out the door, and making sure that there were at least two guards on the door, and squad down the corridor. One couldn't be too careful with Fleeters around. “May I introduce my senior staff—Egeanin, my senior navigator; Selamderen, ship's surgeon; Mr Bryne, my senior gunner. And you've already met GW McLintock, Marine officer. He's never given us any other name or a reason why he'd choose a Terran name.” The senior Fleet officer nodded to each officer Roberts mentioned, but looked at the Orion female in the black latex cheongsam on Wes's arm. “And where do you fit in motley crew,” LCDR Dent asked. Maighdin gave the Commander one of her sultry smiles. “That is, between myself and my Lord.” Clearing his throat, the senior surviving fleet officer introduced himself and his party. “Lieutenant Commander Dent, formerly of the USS William Tell,” “Lieutenant Rachael Grainger, USS Abbe, Lt. William Smythe, USS Solon; Dr Vanessa Risicato, Cunard Victoria's medical officer; and Chief Purser Thomas Cottam.” -=-=-=-=- Dinner had moved pleasantly along, without any of the awkwardness of of the first informal dinner reception between Chancellor Gorkon and Captain Kirk, almost 100 years ago, and still a matter of much discussion amongst the etiquette crowd of how not to host a dinner reception. The stewards had cleared the dinner and dessert plates, snifters of brandy or liquor of choice left with the diners. “So, Captain Roberts,” Dr Risicato asked, “I assume you'll be dropping us off at the nearest starbase, while you take our ships back to wherever it is you lair?” “I'm sorry, Doctor, but I'm afraid I can't afford to make this exception,” he replied, sipping 200 year old Napoleon brandy from a crystal snifter. “What do you mean?” “Once word leaks out that a pirate has gone soft, people begin to disobey you, and then it's nothing but work, work, work, all the time.” He set the snifter down, his eyes hard behind his mask. “No, you won't be released. And by now, Starfleet has probably wandered into the little battle zone, and has detected multiple warp signatures, debris and empty lifeboats. They'll have either declared all the survivors dead, Missing in Action or considered POWs. “Nor will all of you remain aboard my ship. I'd rather you not eat me out of house and home. And since you will be considered 'dead' in the great bureaucracy that is the Federation, what I offer is much more tangible than what the Jem'Hadar or Cardassians offer.” “Which is?” “You're to be colonists on my world, which, for the moment, shall remain nameless. Its simply an offer I extend to most of my captures. Unless they are truly the dregs of society, then they get one option—the airlock.” “Not much of a choice, is it, Mr Roberts,” Dent said. “No, but given the alternatives, you'll find your new home pleasantly pleasant. And far from the war raging across the Alpha Quadrant.

Revenge Kressari Star System Kalandra Sector The Revenge hovered near the edge of the system, all active systems shut down, making her a hole in space. Her passive sensor suite, however, had recorded a small skirmish between Alpha Jem'Hadar and Starfleet in the system. Wes sat in the center seat of his ship, listening to his master gunner, Gaerth Bryne. “Captain, multiple derelict vessels, Starfleet and Dominion. And a couple of independent merchantmen that were caught in the crossfire.” “Looks like they ignored the NOTAM Starfleet sent out,” Khaiell commented. Wes's eyebrow rose. “What ships?” “The Maersk Algol, cargo ship, and the Cunard Victoria, passenger liner.” “Mr. Scrimgeour, begin powering up our active systems. Let's at least get a scan on our potential prizes.” “Aye sair.” -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Starfleet Intelligence Datafile Pirate Ship Revenge Accessed 15 October 2383 The Revenge has had a long history of different ships and configurations. 200 years ago, she was an aged Bonaventure-class, mounting railguns and lasers. After the NX ships were retired, a refit was done, squeezing in a Warp 5 power plant, phase cannons and photonic torpedoes. As the Daedalus-class ships were coming offline, the Hotspur disappeared while on her way to the boneyard. There were reports of her having become the newest version of the Revenge. Her next two major refits, if one wanted to call them that, included replacing the older Daedalus-class engineering hull with scavenged Constitution-class hulls and nacelles from first and second generation Constitutions lost in combat. Her final configuration at the time of the Battle of Caer Bannog, included a scavenged Intrepid-class saucer and the weapons pod from a rollbar-variant Miranda. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= As soon as the Revenge's warp core powered up, active sensor pulses pinged back off the Algol and Victoria. “Captain, crew spaces on the Maersk Algol have been vented to space; she's sitting in a lovely cloud of frozen atmosphere. No lifesigns detected. “The Cunard Victoria, however, has 3000 lifesigns. Propulsion is damaged, and bridge vented to space.” “Well then. Prepare two boarding parties. EV suits for the team assigned to the Algol and a large compliment of engineers for the Victoria.” Making sure his mask and bandanna were in place, Wes stood, and moved to the center of the bridge. “Egeanin, bring us along side the Victoria. Boarding parties away as soon as they're assembled in the transporter rooms, and tie us into the liner's communications network. “Khaiell, take charge of the Victoria's boarding party.” The Romulan first mate nodded, and left the bridge of the Revenge. “We're tied in, Captain. Engineering teams have beamed aboard both the Victoria and the Maersk Algol.” Wes cleared his throat. “Ladies and gentlemen aboard the Cunard Victoria, good day to you. I am, if you haven't figured out, the Dread Pirate Roberts and your ship, your valuables, and yourselves are now mine. Don't think Starfleet is going to ride to your rescue, simply because I've captured your ship. Your captain ignored a Starfleet Notice To All Merchantmen to avoid this region of space. And, well, the fleet engagement that occurred, has pretty much eliminated their presence in this sector. So, I would appreciate it if you sit back, relax, and enjoy the trip to your new home. “And to the crew and any military personnel who might be passengers aboard—Please, no thoughts of heroics and attacking my prize crew. I'd hate to have to space the lot of you. Revenge, out.” “Captain, the Maersk Algol is underway. We've also got multiple lifeboat beacons in the debris fields. Orders?” A flash of light marked the container ship's jump to warp. “As soon as the Victoria's underway, we'll be magnanimous and retrieve the survivors. After all, it's not sporting to let those valiant beings die a slow death of suffocation and dehydration. They'll be our “guests” aboard. Under heavy escort, of course. Inform Mr. McLintock to have our 'best quarters' made ready.” Egeanin nodded. -=-=-=-=-=- Federation News Network News Bulletin 16 October 2373 “Starfleet has confirmed reports of the loss of Task Force 7.35 in the vicinity of Kressari star system. The battle, which also claimed two civilian ships, the Maersk Algol and the Cunard Victoria, lasted the better part of 36 standard hours, according to sensor logs retrieved from ships lost. Starfleet has also confirmed there were no survivors, from either the civilian ships or the task force, despite the presence of ejected lifeboats. “There are reports, however, that the Revenge was seen in the area, and Starfleet is continuing to investigate those reports.” =-=-=-=-=-= With the Revenge safely at warp with the Victoria, Wes left the bridge in the able hands of his Betazed HOPS officer, and returned to his at sea cabin. Maighdin gave her lover a sultry smile as he entered and threw his weapons belt and mask on the desk. “That went over well,” he muttered, before flopping on to the couch. “As well as can be expected, my Lord?” Maighdin moved closer to him and began to work the tension from dealing with both the prisoners and a delegation from the senior surviving crewmembers of the Victoria. “Yeah, pretty much. I'd forgotten how much I hate dealing with Starfleet officers at times. At least Commander Dent was, at the very least grateful for rescue.” “Yes, I heard. Perhaps you should invite several of the officers to dinner. It would be the sporting thing to do.” “Of course,” Wes replied, as he twisted around and pulled Maighdin on to his lap. “I never could refuse you, my dear.” tbc

When boredom strikes on duty weekends. I present to you the 24th Century Pirate Ship, Revenge

Pirate Ship Revenge Currently in orbit over Caledonia VI (10 years previous) Wes cracked his eyes open in the dim-blue lit confines of his quarters, the chrono indicating the middle watch as four chimes sounded through the ship's intercom. With the comfortable weight of his companion pillowed against his side, and her green arm thrown over his chest, he ran his hand over his face. Damn nightmare again, he thought. While he'd become a pirate, years ago, he had kept track of his wife and daughter aboard the Arcadia, through back channels, until they'd disappeared. Since then, he'd been troubled by nightmares. But, being the brash pirate he was, he kept it under wraps. Maighdin began to stir, her hand brushing her lustrous blue black mane out of her eyes. “Good morning, my Lord,” she purred. “You're awake early. The dream?” Wes looked into her golden eyes. “Five years since I've granted your freedom, after 'purchasing' you from the Black Kris, and every day I've told you I'm not a lord.” “And that, my Lord, is where you are wrong,” she countered playfully. “For my heart, and all that belongs to it, is your vassal.” That particular Orion cartel wasn't pleased that the Revenge had captured one of their dreadnoughts. While the crew was spaced, the living cargo, on the other hand, was kept and quietly sent to Federation rehabilitation and educational facilities. Except for Maighdin. She refused to leave the Revenge, even threatening to chain herself to Wes's command chair. “Yes, I know. And for five years, you've been saying that as a counter to my comment. And yes, it was the dream again.” “Well, I'm glad that it wasn't my performance this evening.” Maighdin ran her hand along her lover's chest. “Perhaps I can chase those daemons away.” “As you wish.” -=-=-=-=-=-=- Five years previous, Starfleet noticed a distinct change in the Pirate Roberts' targets. While he still went after fat, juicy freighters and passenger liners that plied the spacelanes between Betelgeuse and the rest of the Federation, he began to target more of the pirates that preyed on the same targets he'd been known to hit previously. By the time Starfleet vessels were able to respond to distress calls, the ships were gone. Not slowly expanding balls of debris, just not there anymore, while random starship patrols found debris consistent with known pirate ships, complete with sufficient biomass to indicate that the crews were either killed in detail or spaced. =-=-=-=-=-=-= As the end of the watch chimed with eight bells, the Revenge's Romulan first mate, strolled on to the bridge of the ship. Looking over the one of the computer terminals, Khaiell looked over the latest intelligence gleaned from the Lloyd's, Starfleet NOTAMs, and wire services, it looked like there was something brewing, near Cardassian space. Starfleet was ordering merchantmen to avoid space near the Kalandra Sector. “Egeanin, plot a course to the Kalandra sector, the Kressari star system. Maximum warp.” “Aye.” The Revenge broke her orbit, and leapt towards Federation space. tbc

Can I get "Life is pain. Anyone who says differently is selling something." If that doesn't fit, then: "If only we had a Holocaust Cloak"?

Maybe we should have brought the unlicensed proton packs...

FIFA is reviewing the referee's actions and calls from yesterday's game. From Yahoo! Sports