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Old August 11 2012, 08:34 PM   #40
DarKush
Rear Admiral
 
Re: UT: Refugee Crisis/Dark Territory-"Stealing Fire"

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Jov’k Tholis
Calcite-class battlecruiser

Commander Narskene shut hir mind off from the crew at the behest of the Political Castemoot on Tholia. The High Magistrates wished to speak to hir directly, and alone, so Narskene knew that s/he were about to be given a mission of the utmost importance to hir people.

In addition to the Tholian mind being highly advanced and capable of telepathic communication over wide distances in space, their very bodies could serve as communication devices. Narskene’s body was purposely stilled as she awaited instruction.

Hir head bowed, the information flitted into her mind from the great Lattice that could connect all Tholians across the entire quadrant. Nothing was held back as the High Magistrates revealed their thoughts to hir. Narskene sent them hir response. And then she ordered the Jov’k Tholis to reverse course.
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Shuttlecraft Greenaugh

Ensign Fryer came out of the refresher, a smile spreading on his face as he saw his proximity sensor blinking. “Karen,” he muttered, “probably trying to give me a good rattle.” As if she hadn’t shaken him up already with this crazy stunt of hers. But it was all good now, Roland realized, as he slid into his seat. She got it out of her system and neither of their superiors had to know about it.

He shuddered inwardly at the thought of having to face Shashlik. He was so glad she hadn’t called him. Roland didn’t think he would be able to lie to her if she asked about Oyekan’s whereabouts.

The ensign sighed, relieved he didn’t have to worry about that now. Flipping off the alarm, he magnified the shuttle’s main viewer to get a look at the shuttle as it emerged from the beautiful coruscating mass of gases.

“What a minute,” he muttered as an oblong, rust-brown prow poked through the barrier. “That’s not Oyekan!” His heart thudded painfully and his stomach muscles clenched. “Karen,” he whispered, fear nearly robbing him of voice. Had something happened to Karen?

Whoever these guys were, they weren’t Tholians, he realized after the ship pulled itself from the mire. He recognized the make as an old Antares-class design, with a circular nacelle attached to its aft. Though the ship often reminded him of a space worthy penis, its appearance was generally not a laughing matter. It was a ship popular with Corvallen smugglers. Or pirates!

Fryers stomach muscles unclenched, just long enough for the pit of his stomach to drop. The Antares cruiser strode toward the alien craft. He raised shields and brought the shuttles scant weapons online. He tried hailing he ship, but there was no response. “Shit,” he muttered, thoughts racing through his head, as he moved away from the alien ship to confront the larger vessel. “This is the Starfleet Shuttle Greenaugh, please respond,” he asked, forgoing a simple hail and broadcasting a message instead.

The ship didn’t reply nor change course. “I must warn you to desist from approaching the vessel.” Once again, it ignored him. “If you do not desist, I will be forced to fire upon you.” Still the vessel came on. Fryer shifted his jaw and briefly clutched his bubbling stomach, before sending a glancing blow off the other ship’s bow.

The Antares stopped, turning towards the Greenaugh. It raised shields and weapons. “Frinx!” Fryer cursed. He tapped his combadge, “Lt. Shashlik, we’ve got a situation here.”
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