Commodore Moose

Especially since today is the day we celebrate the fact that we won. : ) Happy day everyone, regardless of what side of the war you were on. Moose

That's because those are tasks for the henchmen. You do the work. Evil has cocktails while you break your nails.

Amateurs. I AM 90% EVIL GENIUS I am pure evil. I lie awake at night devising schemes of world domination, and I will not rest until all living souls bend to my will.

Actually, Vex. There's lots of love here for Puss-n-Boots. Especially since my seven-year-old tries to pull the "sad kitty eyes" on me ever since he saw the movie. Fortunately, he can't keep from laughing long enough to pull it off.

Subtract 3. 11 pm Est is 8 pm in Los Angeles. If you look at the time I posted this message, it should display relative to your local time. At this moment, it is 12:50 am Est (New York), 11:50 pm in Chicago (Est - 1), 10:50 pm in Denver (Est - 2), and 9:50 pm in Sacramento (Est - 3). Find the time that matches yours and you'll know the difference. I went through all that because parts of Arizona don't observe daylight savings time, so they bounce back and forth between Denver and Los Angeles time. If all else fails, try www.timezoneconverter.com I personally have my own Daylight Moose Time, which puts me eternally ten minutes behind any clock. : )

B-U-N-D-Y ... one "D". : ) See Krolls? Names are hard. ;-)

Aftermath, June 2154 "They've formed a what?" asked Moose in a tone that made his nickname "Bull" seem too mild. "A blockade, Commodore," said Mirona Alces patiently. "Andorian ships have spread themselves through the system and are refusing to allow other ships to pass. All space traffic has been halted." "I know what a blockade is, thank you. What the heck do they think they're doing?" "They think they're controlling the sector," she replied. "And so far, they've been quite effective. The Trader's Guild is furious and support for the Challenger project is dropping planet-wide." Moose ground the end of an unlit cigar with his back mollars as Mirona spoke, a habit he had when he was frustrated. Mirona was oblivious to the action, but it made her guardian squirm. Liona was more affected by Moose's moods than Mirona, who was extreamly controlled and had become almost indespensable in a very short time. Good thing, he thought, otherwise he'd get rid of them both. Those ladies had a very strange relationship. "What is our diplomatic liaison doing about the situation?" asked Moose. "Nothing, sir. Krolls is dead." Ah crud, thought Moose. How could he have forgotten? Contacting Kroll's family was one of the first tasks he had to tackle that morning. It was fortunate that the Klingons were lousy terrorists. Too many people died as it was, but if the station had exploded, the crashing debris could have wiped out an entire town. "Who's working with the Andorian Ambassador then?" "I'm afraid no one is, sir." answered Mirona. "The Andorian Ambassador has gone into seclusion. He issued a statement saying that he and Kroells were on the verge of an agreement. But our actions are responsible for Kroell's death and inspired premature military actions from his people. He doesn't want to work with us anymore, so he resigned and went into seclusion. Ironically, his people's own blockade has prevented his return home." "And the Vulcan Ambassador?" "The Vulcans think since Commander E'Shok died stopping the terrorist assault, it would be obvious 'even to us' that they're our allies and the Andorians are not. It's only logical that we leave them alone to deal with the blockade as they see fit." "Rubbish," barked Moose abruptly. Liona flinched, then embarassingly tried to hide it. "There wouldn't be Andorians in the system if they didn't resent our relationship with the Vulcans. I'm not going to hand them control of anything." "What are you going to do?" asked Mirona. "First of all, we need an opening with the Andorians. Even if their ambassador has checked out, we still have one on Andoria. Get in touch with him. There has to be at least one Andorian on that planet who's willing to work with us." "Aye, sir." "Next, find out who in Security is in charge of the investigation. We still don't know how the Klingons touched down, and I'm not sure they're our only problem." "What do you mean?" "Have you read the reports from Computer Sciences?" asked Moose. "They just spend the week reprogramming the main processor. Klingons aren't known for their scientific prowess or their guile, so there's a whole other faction at play here. We need a top-notch investigator to find out what we're missing." "I'll get right on it." "And then find Moore for me," barked Moose. "Between the attack and the overtime, we're loosing workers right and left. We need the help from the Martian colony he promised." "No one can get here from Mars, Commodore. With the blockade in place, no one will travel." "And without the Martians, this ship hasn't a chance in 1000 of getting finished. If they can't come here, then we'll move the entire operation there." Although usually unflappable, this time even Mirona was shocked? "You're kidding," she sputtered. "No I'm not," said Moose is a controlled, even voice. "It's not safe to build this ship in Earth orbit. The Klingon terrorists proved that. If they'd succeeded in detonating their bomb, this station could have landed on thousands of people, and that would have been very bad for business." He paused briefly to grind the tip off his cigar. "With three times the ship builders and a mostly uninhabited surface, Mars is the perfect location. And I have spaceports full of grounded pilots needing work. A few greased palms and there'll be a dozen ships ready to tow the framework over there." "What about the blockade?" asked Mirona. "What about it?" asked Moose. His eyes held a defiant twinkle that made Liona so nervous, she nearly fainted. "You tell Moore to start making the arrangements. We'll show the Andorians and the Vulans what a blockade really is. And their heavens help them if they try to cross it." Commodore Moose Challenger Project, Earth

Fred is correct. On startrek.com they specifically list it as Andoria. They made it up, so it's hard to argue with them. : ) Andoria it is.

And when you're done laughing ... go back and read the site in "jive" : ) Hysterical !

This fall, as UPN launches it's fourth season of Enterprise, STSF will be launching its first. GM's Moose and Jorlis will be christening the Challenger, NX-05. This new advanced simulation will explore the 22nd century galaxy at 11 pm Est on Sunday nights beginning September 12. There will be an announcement mid-August as to when crew applications will be accepted. In the mean time, the Challenger is under construction and we'd like everyone's help. Between now and September, we will be building the ship in a play-by-mail format, and every member of the forum is invited to participate. We need engineers, medical personnel to treat them when they get hurt, diplomats to smooth the way with known races, etc. This is the first ship created specifically for STSF, and we'd like everyone to have their finger in the pie before the launch. To participate, simply post your entry in the Challenger Logs folder. Or partner up with a buddy, and write a joint log. Please email [email protected] or [email protected] if you have any questions. With your help, Earth will soon be a major presense in space once again.

Strangers in the Night June 7, 2154 The tavern was crowded and noisy, in spite of the late hour. This did not surprise Fitzgerald M. "Bull" Moose as he sat at the tightly packed bar waiting for his drink. The increased production schedules meant there was a lot of steam to blow off. Work hard, play hard ... it could have been the fleet motto. Finally, the bartender set his drink down on the counter, but before he could respond, and woman holding a data padd took the glass from him. She sipped it and started telling off the bartender. "This is the well liquor," she scolded the bartender. "Do you think the Commodore wouldn't notice inferior scotch? Top shelf only, and quickly. He's been waiting long enough." Moose stared at the woman intently. She was young, anywhere from 18 to 23 he guessed. Her long, brown hair waved fully, framing her face. She had more freckles than Moose had ever seen on a single person, and they circled her face in a neat row like an asteroid belt. "What the hell are you?" he asked. "I'm your assistant," she answered calmly. "Mirona Alces, Yeoman 1st class. Admiral Forrest sent me to look after you." "That isn't what I meant," he said. "And what do you mean you're here to look after me?" "If we're going to work together, we'll have to be blunt with one another. Your record is clear, Commodore. No one gets the job done like you do, but you're not the best with paperwork and status reports. Admiral Forrest felt I could be an asset to you." "Why that meddling, son of a dog," barked Moose in a tone that brought a hush to even this loud a crowd. "He has been doing nothing but interfere with my staff since he hired me. He promises the First Officer job to any diplomat who puffs his chest ... he takes calls from Engineers requesting spare parts ... do you know he even went down to the Caribbean to drag some weapons guy off leave? If he wants to run around the planet handing out patronage jobs, he can Captain the ship himself and spare me the trouble." "Shall I tell him that, sir?" asked Mirona innocently? "I'll tell him that myself, thank you," said Moose, chewing on the end of an unlit cigar. "You've got spunk, Yeoman. I'll give you that. What tattoo parlor did he find you in?" "Oh, my spots? I'm from the planet Trill," she said. At that moment, a young blonde woman came up and whispered in her ear. Mirona responded in a language Moose didn't recognize. They chatted back and forth for a bit before she addressed the Commodore again. "My family has ties to the Denobulan government. They brought me into Starfleet through the Species Exchange Program." "And who is she, your assistant?" "Oh no," giggled Mirona. "That's Liona. She's my guardian." "Your guardian? Just how old are you anyway?" "How old do I look?" asked Mirona coyly. "Not old enough to be drinking scotch in dark bars late at night with old men," he responded. "You're 23 at that most." "Lucky guess," she said. "I'm 23 exactly. My people seldom travel off world, sir. It is our custom to be accompanied by a guardian when we do." "So she follows you everywhere?" "Everywhere. Yes, sir. It is our way." "I see ... does she drink scotch too?" "No, sir," said Mirona. "Liona doesn't relax much." "How lucky for us," said Moose, taking a long draw from his scotch. "Have you met Commander Moore yet?" "No sir," said Mirona. "I haven't had the pleasure." "Find him first thing tomorrow. I don't want that Sieben guy turning into a problem. We can't stop the Admiral from butting in, but Elias can make sure that no one does an end run around him a second time." "I'll see to it, sir." "And while you're out and about, swing by the armory. I need a volunteer or two for a little security project. I hear there's a new gal out there who's tougher than nails." Mirona consulted her padd briefly. "Would that be Liliana Hamilton? She just arrived yesterday." "That would be her. I'm very concerned about the destruction of the Vulcan ship T'Kel and what that means to Challenger. We're going to have to take a pro-active stance with security. Have Mr. Hamilton come see me." "Mr. Hamilton?" asked Mirona. "Her name is Liliana." "No fleet officer is going to be discriminated against based on their gender, Yeoman. If I don't address someone by their title, then I'm going to call them Mister. That is my way." "Understood, Commodore. I'll have Mr. Hamilton find you." "Excellent." "Is there anything else, sir?" "Yes. Go get some sleep, and report to me at 0700 hours tomorrow. Be prepared to run yourself ragged. We've got a lot of work to do." "Aye, sir." Moose watched the young woman as she left the bar, her faithful "guardian" Liona following respectfully behind her. There was more to that relationship than Mirona was letting on, but Moose knew better than to bulldoze his way through an alien's personal secrets. She'd tell him when she was ready. He watched her stop near the door to talk briefly with the bartender. The conversation was short, and very animated. With moments, the bartender had scurried over with a fresh scotch for the Commodore. Forrest was right. Mirona was going to be quite an asset. Commodore Moose The Challenger Project, Earth

It was a great log, Tach. Especially for a first time. My only advise is to keep them coming. : ) Thanks for joining in the Challenger Project. Moose

June 1, 2154 Fitzgerald M. "Bull" Moose stood in the space station's conference room, looking out the large observation window with a deep scowl on his face. He was not a tall man, only 5' 9". But his overly muscled frame made him appear much taller than he was. He had an unlit cigar in his mouth, and his teeth were grinding the tip into a shape that was unrecognizable. Outside the window was another unrecognizable shape; piles of girders and struts that were destined to become the Challenger, NX-05. At the moment though, it was difficult to see how that heap of metal was going to evolve into a warp 5 capable starship. Moose took this frustration out on his cigar. "So, what do you think?" asked Admiral Forrest as he cautiously entered the room. In spite of his rank and authority, he couldn't help but feel a bit intimidated by this scowling man. "The Vulcans are right," said Moose, pulling the cigar out of his mouth. "We're insane." "What would you have us do, then?" Asked Forrest a little too defensively. "Should we just sit here and wait for the end to come?" The Admiral was clearly tired of opposition. "Even if Enterprise is successful, and the Xindi never return, we still have the Klingons, the Andorians, and who knows what else to contend with. We've been out in space long enough that everyone knows where we live, it's only a matter of time before someone tries to finish their work. Especially if they realize our only long range starship is months away." "Calm down, Admiral," said Moose confidently and patiently. "I didn't say that it couldn't be done. I just said we were nuts. Hell, sealing 500 people up in a large metal box, and catapulting them at faster than light speeds to somewhere that has no atmosphere, isn't a rational plan under the best of circumstances. But we can't resist. We've done it before and we'll probably continue to do it for a couple of hundred years more until we come to our senses. It's just what we do." Admiral Forrest relaxed, clearly having heard at least part of the answer he was looking for. "But it won't happen with this crew," continued Moose. "What do you mean?" "Just look at them. They're plodding, lackluster ... there's been no significant progress since yesterday. This crew doesn't believe they can build this ship in time, and that guy you have in charge ... what's his name? Murphy? He hasn't done a thing to fire them up. He's got to go." Forrest sighed. He had worked with Moose for many years, and suddenly remembered that the nickname "Bull" had not been given to him affectionately. Like an animal in a china shop, Moose's presence was felt wherever he went. This was one of the reasons he was considered for a command in space. But Forrest had hoped that Moose wouldn't become so controlling until after the ship had left. "We pulled Commander Murphy off the Columbia project for this assignment. He's the best forman we have and will no doubt run this shipyard someday." Moose laughed loud and hard, not taking any pains to hide his disdain. "The Columbia? That's a reference? If they weren't still two years behind schedule, we wouldn't be having this conversation." "Murphy's not responsible for the structural integrity issues," shouted Forrest. "We've learned a lot from launching Enterprise, and you know it takes longer to retrofit an enhancement than it does to build it into something new." "Yeah, that reads real well on status reports." "There's no one else in the fleet with his experience building warp drives, except for Trip Tucker. And in case you haven't noticed, Tucker isn't available." "Now that's where you're wrong, Admiral. There is someone else with plenty of experience that you're overlooking." Without seeming smug, Moose handed Forrest a data padd. He did not show his amusement as Forrest's face dropped. "Moore? Absolutely not," snapped the Admiral handing the padd back to Moose. "Why not?" asked Moose. "Because he quit. He walked off the NX project." "So what? He's clearly got the experience. In fact, he's the only one with enough experience to build the engines in time. Who cares if he's unpredictable and hard to work with. Admiral, where I come from we have a saying, 'Don't stand between a jerk and his goals.' This kid has something to prove, and if you give him the opportunity to prove it, there's not a person alive who will be able to slow him down. We need that kind of fanaticism if you want me past Uranus by September." Moose set the padd on the conference table and turned towards the starship under construction outside the window. As if to prove his point, small shuttle crafts docked and left, carrying the workers home. "3 pm already?" Moose asked wryly. "My how time flies." Forrest let the comment hang in the air. He knew he had lost this point. He stood by Moose at the window and stared at what there was of the Challenger. This ship was the future of the NX project. Moose was the future of the NX project. The deadline had to be met. Moose was right, they needed fanaticism. "So why are you doing this?" he asked. "What's your goal?" "Staying alive, sir. Simply staying alive." The bluster quickly faded from Moose's voice. "Do you know the average life expectancy for someone in our business who retires? Hell, I'm only 58. I'm not going to sit on a horse on some mountain in Wyoming and watch the clouds pass by when there's a whole universe on top of them waiting to be explored. My retirement was supposed to be our time together, Maggie and I. Ever since she died, I just can't stand the thought of not working. There's nothing to keep me home." "What about the children?" "You know how it is with military kids. They grow up moving around so much. The first chance they get, they bolt and plant roots deeper than a cypress tree. They have their own lives now. They don't need me." A look of loneliness flashed in his eyes, but was quickly extinguished. He picked the data padd up off the table and slapped it into Admiral Forrest's hands. "You, on the other hand, need me very much. And I need a construction foreman who isn't here to win a desk job." He stuck the cigar in his mouth and headed towards the door. He stopped, and spun back towards Forrest. The struts of the Challenger framed the Admiral through the observation window. "Offer that boy a job, Max. And do it quickly, before we get too far behind. I'll get us into space by September. That's my goal." And as Moose stuck the cigar back in his mouth and strode from the room, Admiral Forrest smiled. He had no doubt that Moose would succeed, and he pitied any man who accidentally stepped between Moose and that ship.

News Alert: June 1, 2154. In a surprising announcement this morning, Starfleet Command promised an accelerated launch date for its next Warp 5 capable starship. This sudden change of plans was made in response to public demand that Earth maintain a presence in space, which has been lacking since the Enterprise NX-01 was dispatched to the Delphic Expanse. The recent attack on Magellian Station, which resulted in the deaths of 40 civilians, has only heightened the situation. An aggressive production schedule will allow the Challenger NX-05 to be christened on September 12, 2154. Construction delays on the Columbia, NX-02 have caused it and other NX ships to be launched after the NX-05. Although they are further in production, it was felt that newer technology could be installed faster into the Challenger than it could be retrofit into the other frameworks. When asked about the project, Commodore Fitzgerald M. "Bull" Moose commented, "Of course we're going to meet the deadline. Now get that camera out of my face." As expected, the Denobulans have pledged their full support, while the Vulcans claim the launch date is impossible to meet. The Andorians have protested, fearing that the urgency underlies an attack on their territory. So far, the Klingons have withheld comment. For the full story, click here.