Thanks once again for all the kind comments, and sorry for leaving everyone hanging, if temporarily. DarKush, at least you have a couple of chapters yet to read... BTW my novel is an action/adventure, sort of along the lines of Clive Cussler, but with more historical crossover. Gibralter has read part of it.
I've never read any Clive Cussler, but I've seen the books almost everywhere. I too wish you good luck with the novel. As for "Recovery", I've finally caught up. Good character work/backstory with Dulak. I think he, Rexar, and Prak make the most impressions on me. Also, I like the friendship between Tara and T'Noor. That's a nice contrast. It's good they are friends instead of antagonists.
Coming Soon: Star Trek: Shepard, Recovery, Chapter 8 Hey, I'm back and going to start catching up on the Shepard story. Sorry the three week hiatus turned into more like four. It'll be good to get back to the story. Thanks to everyone who read, and maybe even voted for my October Challenge...and the nice comments on the Halloween short-short. Fat Happy and rested
Re: Coming Soon: Star Trek: Shepard, Recovery, Chapter 8 Sounds good, man. Great to have you back. Did you make some good progress on your book?
Re: Coming Soon: Star Trek: Shepard, Recovery, Chapter 8 Glad you're back - I've been waiting for more of the Shepard saga!
Re: Coming Soon: Star Trek: Shepard, Recovery, Chapter 8 Good to see you back and can't wait from more Shepard stories.
Star Trek: Shepard; Recovery, Chapter 8 USS Persepheron Bridge In a matter of seconds following dropping to impulse Chief Prak had his hands full. While he didn’t think there was any way the cybernetic monstrosities could have anticipated the change in speed, they reacted eerily fast anyway. Anyone standing close enough would have noticed two things about the Tellarite that indicated he was getting stressed, both autonomic responses. One, a narrow swath of his close shorn hair running from his forehead back along the top of his head to his neck stood even more on end than usual, making a distinct ridge-like pattern. The other was that miniscule glands in his skin began exuding a pungent, almost sour odor. Fortunately, no one was near enough to the Chief. While he operated the tractor beam control console with only three digits on each hand, Chief Prak made up for any slight decrease in manual dexterity by uncannily quick and accurate arm movements. He also benefited from a modified LCARs interface screen designed specifically with Tellarite physiology in mind. The Borg definitely weren’t playing dead in the water, and as Prak struggled to maintain a solid tractor beam lock on the vessel, the power feedback readings began fluctuating wildly. Over the still open com circuit to the transporter room, Commander Ridgeway began to ask a question. “T’Noor, wha....” Prak cut the circuit unceremoniously and called engineering. “Increase tractor beam output fifteen percent, each channel,” he stated without preamble. Not waiting for a reply, he cut that circuit as well. Then, raising his already resonant voice he said to T’Noor who was manning the sensor station, “Call your Commander in the transporter room, he’s probably wanting updates. I don’t have time.” As if to emphasize his point he switched his com panel to receive-locked-out, so that incoming com traffic would be diverted. From under the console next to T’Noor, Davis pulled himself to his feet and powered up the station without securing the access panel. Fingers touching a few controls he smiled to himself then looked towards Chief Prak. “Chief, I think the transmitter is up, someone back at depot went above and beyond. This signal splicer was pre-calibrated for our exact model and mod. I’d almost say someone took the specs of our last turn-in, and duplicated them. Either way, automated beacon is up, sending our distress call. Just have to wait for someone to answer.” Chief Prak just grunted. Coming from the gruff Tellarite, Davis knew that was practically glowing praise. Setting a console alert for any incoming subspace traffic, Davis typed a message to engineering warp control console number 2. ‘Gwen, ETR deflector?’ It was a brief message, but Davis wanted to be on top of engineering status for Chief Prak just in case. The way the Tellarite was working the tractor beam controls didn’t make Davis very comfortable. If they had to beat a hasty retreat, they would need the deflector. LTJG T’Noor had her own challenge. Tweaking settings to get every ounce of sensor resolution from a system not designed for detailed life sign reading was not something she had spent much time on at the academy. Her last posting as a temporary lab assistant at an obscure science station with highly specialized equipment was also of little help. So, while making her adjustments, she succeeded in getting solid readings on her three crewmates on the Borg vessel, but failed completely to get any kind of reading from the Borg drones approaching them. Punching up a com channel to the transporter room, she reported to Ridgeway. “Commander, the away team is onboard the Borg vessel, life signs normal. There is no indication that they have been detected.” Ridgeway replied, somewhat surprised at being so abruptly cut off by Chief Prak, “Well, that’s good. Is everything else all right up there? Chief Prak cut me off.” T’Noor maintained her lock on the away team, “Yes sir, the Chief is devoting his attention to maintaining the tractor beam lock on the Borg. The difficulty level of that endeavor seems to have increased. I do not think it prudent to remain at impulse speeds for long as the Borg are taking advantage of the situation.” For the first time, Ridgeway started to question his decision to send over the away team. “Keep me updated, I don’t think they’ll want to stay over there any longer than they have to, but I want to be able to pull them out at the first sign of trouble.” “Aye Sir.” T’noor replied, adjusting the sensors to maintain a lock on the landing party. USS Sutherland Bridge, 0200 Commander Sam Lavelle, newly appointed first officer onboard the Nebula class starship, stepped out from the Captain’s ready room onto the bridge. Yawning as he stretched his arms up over his head, he almost regretted forgoing his pre-night watch nap in order to share an intimate interlude with Lieutenant Maria Django, Helm Officer. Almost. As the dusky skinned Ensign looked back over her shoulder at him from the helm station and smiled, surprisingly alert and energized, Lavelle flashed back to an image of that same smile, looking down from above him as he lay in ecstasy on his bed not three hours before. He must have blushed slightly because the smile turned to a laugh as she asked, “Tired Commander?” Fumbling for some degree of witty repartee, he dropped his arms and shook his head as he headed for the command chair. “I think I need to get some more exercise,” was all he came up with. Turning back to her console, Maria gently bit her lower lip in anticipation as she realized what he meant. An urgent beeping and flashing indicator on the operations panel brought the night watch officer, Ensign Tori Meriwether, fully awake. Her petite yet deft fingers flew across the panel, bringing up an information screen. “Sir,” she said, voice serious and professional, “we’re receiving a distress call from a USS Persepheron, audio only.” Lavelle snapped instantly awake, “On speakers Ensign.” The Ops Officer quickly touched the slick LCARS panel and a slightly distorted voice piped over the bridge speakers, obviously shaken, “Mayday, Mayday we are under attack from a Borg vessel, repeat a Borg vessel, any vessel receiving this signal please reply.” Lavelle cursed, “Damn! Helm, go to Red Alert. Meriwether, open a hailing frequency.” Pressing a button on the arm of the command chair, Lavelle beat the Red Alert klaxon by a second, “Captain Shelby to the bridge, Captain Shelby to the bri...” then the warbling siren cut him off. Lavelle took a breath and composed himself, “Persepheron? What kind of ship is that? I don’t remember hearing that name before.” Meriwether looked at the readout on her console, “She’s a fleet warp tug sir, crew compliment thirty. Commanding Officer is a Chief Prak.” Already indicators flashed as stations began reporting in. Activity increased as the minimal bridge crew brought consoles online in preparation for the arrival of the full bridge compliment. Lavelle looked at the science console, hoping the crewman manning it was on the ball enough to realize that the ops officer was too busy receiving manned and ready reports to determine the location of the distress call’s origin. He was not disappointed as an ensign with red hair and freckles looked over at him, “Sir, signal origin bearing two twelve mark twenty six, distance six point four light years. That’s not far from Starbase 214.” With the Borg seeming to be involved, Starbase nearby or not, Lavelle knew that Captain Elizabeth Shelby would not even think of passing on this one. He ordered, “Helm, lay in a course, maximum warp, and execute.” The intercom light on the command chair arm blinked and Lavelle activated it, “XO here.” The voice from the other end was Shelby’s, sounding a bit out of breath, “What is it Sam? I was right in the middle of....” Lavelle cut her off, “It’s the Borg. We just received a distress call from a warp tug under attack by the Borg. We’re enroute at maximum warp, and hopefully Starbase 214 has some ships around for backup. I don’t have any other info at this time.” The circuit merely relayed background noise to the bridge, Lavelle looked at the speaker for a second, wondering if he was going to get an answer. When it became apparent that nothing was forthcoming he said, “I’ll update you when you get here,” to no one in particular, and closed the circuit. “Sir,” Meriwether announced from the ops console, “I’ve got that channel open to the Persepheron.” “Put it onscreen.” Lavelle said, impatiently. The starfield display was replaced by the view of a rather cramped looking bridge. A vulcan female LTJG and a human male crewmember in coveralls were manning the forward control console. There was no central command chair behind, and the presence of a LT surprised Lavelle a bit. Not knowing whom to address, Lavelle resorted to addressing the ship, figuring that whoever was in charge would answer. “This is Commander Lavelle of the USS Sutherland, Persepheron, what is your status?” The male crewman looked up and answered, “Are we glad to see you! Here, look at this.” The crewman threw several switched on his console and the viewscreen changed to the image of the Borg vessel fragment displayed on the Persepheron’s central screen. The crewman continued talking over the audio channel. “We were diagnosing a problem with our deflector system when this locked onto us with a tractor beam. Chief Prak caused an overload of its tractor beam with our own, and we are struggling to keep it under our control. The Borg already boarded us once and the Chief has been just barely able to keep the tractor beam up since we dropped out of warp to beam an away team over to the Borg ship. Starbase 214 hasn’t…” Lavelle interjected, cutting off Davis, “Wait a minute, you have an away team onboard the Borg vessel?” While listening for an answer to his question, Lavelle took a second to look over the image on the viewscreen. He was just starting to pick up the familiar square lines of a Borg cube amongst all the damage and mostly missing structure when the bridge doors swished open, admitting Captain Shelby and two other officers. Shelby wore a cloth wrap, draped hastily around her chest in sarong-style. Her hair was wet and still dripping. Somehow, she managed to exude her command presence, and no one looked twice or said anything about her dress. In the second it took Shelby to step around the command chair and come alongside her XO she also glanced at the view screen. “Commander, why aren’t you…” Shelby caught herself, noticing an incongruence on the screen. The Sutherland was equipped with one tractor beam, yet the image on the viewscreen showed three distinct beams intersecting on the heavily damaged section of what looked like the corner of a Borg cube. Starting over, she said merely, “What’s going on XO?” Before Lavelle could answer, Davis’s voice, somewhat distorted from static interference in the subspace signal, piped over the Sutherland’s bridge speakers. “Captain, if you could wait one second, I’ll patch you through to Commander Ridgeway, it’s kind of hectic here.” Shelby acknowledged, “Very well, I’m waiting.” She looked at Lavelle with a look of expectancy. In a hushed tone, so as not to transmit over the subspace channel she asked again, “What is happening?” USS Persepheron Transporter Room Realizing that he was keeping a channel open unnecessarily, Ridgeway clicked the com circuit to the science station closed. He looked at the female transporter operator; Parker was her name he thought. Deciding to error on the side of caution, he spoke up. “Crewman Parker, do you still have a lock on the landing party?” Parker brushed her blonde bangs away from the left side of her face without looking up. Nodding she said, in a much less accented standard than he had heard earlier on the mess decks, “Yes Sir, I’ve got the three of them... Wait one, the signals are jumping a bit.” Ridgeway started to step around the console to see for himself when Parker shook her head, “I’m not sure Sir, but it looks like they’ve got company.” Borg Vessel, Designation unknown Central Hub Tara stared in shock at the lone Borg drone approaching them. In a half a second, her plasma blaster finished charging, and the whine of it’s capacitors quieted, leaving only the sound of their breathing and the micro servos actively spinning and moving various manipulators and feeler probes on the end of the Borg’s outstretched arm as it walked towards them across the deck. Lieutenant Townsend scanned the Borg with her tricorder and announced. “Relax Tara, that drone does contain Andorian DNA, but it’s....” Dulak interrupted, “Look there, to the right of that tubule entering near its collar bone. It’s a rank insignia of a Chief Petty Officer. It was Starfleet.” Tara took a step backwards, away from the approaching Borg. The others did likewise. The resemblance to the Andorian Engineer was uncanny, and although it couldn’t be possible, Tara needed to rule it out completely. “Master Chief Arthrun? Rexar Arthrun?” Unbelievably, the drone paused, and dropped its hand to its side, looking down to the ground briefly. When it looked up, it nodded almost imperceptibly. “Chief...” It mouthed the words awkwardly, as if from long disuse. “It seems we have a situation.” Dulak said, whispering. Lieutenant Townsend and Lieutenant, Junior Grade Tara looked at the Cardassian, perplexed by his dry evaluation. Townsend whispered back, “Ensign, if we survive this, I’m putting you in for the Understatement of the Century award.” Just then two more Borg Drones, these not so pensive, rounded a corner and started slowly approaching.
Re: Star Trek: Shepard; Recovery, Chapter 8 Only nitpick here is that Maria is no longer an Ensign, she finally got her promotion to JG. Otherwise, very well done--you did a good job capturing the Suthy's crew and their actions and you've left us on an interesting note. Good to see you back posting again!
Re: Star Trek: Shepard; Recovery, Chapter 8 Dang, thought I'd fixed it, but I left the ops officer vague, so easy to confuse. Well went back and clarified. Thanks for the tip. Dulak
Re: Star Trek: Shepard; Recovery, Chapter 8 Hang on! Rexar’s a Borg? But what’s he doing on the Borg ship/shard if he’s still on Persepheron? I’m confused! Oh, methinks this is gonna be baaaaaaaaad!
Star Trek: Shepard; Recovery, Chapter 9 Borg Vessel, Designation unknown Central Hub As the two Borg drones clanked slowly along the deck plates, the third, the one who had responded to “Chief” looked up, then turned to face the approaching drones. Lieutenant Junior Grade Tara clenched her teeth, her pretty green face awash with confusion. Lowering the barrel of her plasma rifle towards the Borg, her finger inched towards the trigger. Flipping her tricorder off to avoid being recognized as a threat, Lieutenant Townsend remained aware enough of her surroundings to notice her security officer’s actions. “Easy there Mister. Save that in case we really need it. Dulak, do you see any place around here you can put those programs of yours to work?” The Cardassian Ensign blinked, refocusing his eyes and making a superior effort to control his breathing as his heart raced. Looking around, he saw what looked like and interface junction panel. He nodded and said, “Yes, there’s a panel about three meters to our right. Do you want me to proceed?” Townsend watched the Borg for a moment, and to her surprise, the three seemed to confer for a moment, prosthetic limbs held close together in the center of the group. Then the two newcomers turned and moved off down the corridor in the direction they had come. “Alright Mr. Dulak, let’s see what you’ve got.” Townsend re-activated her tricorder and continued doing scans. Dulak stepped over to the panel and opened his pouch. Removing a small device, he extended a flexible cable from it and pushed it gently into an empty socket. The end didn’t match up exactly to the circuits it contacted, but contained numerous variable interface micro-induction coils. If the device did its job correctly, it would ascertain the correct configuration without setting off any alerts. Holding is breath for a second as he pressed a series of buttons on the small control panel, Dulak saw with satisfaction a small green light come on. He exhaled quietly and continued. Pressing another button, he selected the first program from the miniature display panel. Activating it, he waited again. “It seems to be working, the interface algorithm is attempting to patch into the Borg network.” “Very well Mr. Dulak...” Townsend was about to whisper further instructions when her com badge chirped. Cursing silently that she had forgotten to set it to vibrate before the mission she tapped it rapidly, silencing it. “Townsend here, she said quietly.” To her relief the voice of a concerned Commander Ridgeway spoke over the circuit, “What’s your status Lieutenant? The transporter operator is picking up Borg in your vicinity.” Townsend wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead and answered. “We seem to be safe for now Commander, but there is something you should be aware of. There is a Borg drone here that bears more than a striking resemblance to our Master Chief. It’s wearing the remains of a Chief’s uniform, and answered to Chief.” As she spoke, the preposterousness of her statement struck her, but she continued anyway. On the other end Ridgeway was silent for a full five seconds. When he answered his voice was a bit subdued. “Um, have Dulak start interfacing with his programs.” Then more slowly, “Did I understand you correctly that you are in contact with one of the Borg?” Before she could answer, she heard the voice of crewman Parker, the transporter operator, in the background, “Sir, I’ve got Davis here, he wants to patch you through to someone on the Sutherland, they’ve answered our distress call.” Ridgeway came back on the circuit, “I’d better take this, the second you want out of there, have Parker beam you back over. Ridgeway out.” Unable to answer that she’d wanted off the Borg vessel since before they beamed over, Townsend focused back to the task at hand. To add to her stress, the Borg “Chief” turned and approached them again. Dulak was oblivious, concentrating on his computer interface. Tara began to itch her trigger finger. Under her breath, Townsend muttered, “It’s a good thing I like pickles.” Switching her tricorder to medical mode, she decided to get some comprehensive scans of the Borg to take to the Doctor for comparison. She scanned until the Borg stopped in front of her. In its rusty voice, still croaking from disuse, the Borg spoke again, “Starfleet?” it asked. Townsend saw no reason to dissemble to the Borg, “Yes, I am Lieutenant Townsend. Is what I say being transmitted to the Collective?” Facial muscles, also atrophied from lack of use, struggled to form a frown on the still slightly blue face of the Andorian/Borg. “Collective? I...am....not sure what.....you mean?” Townsend remembered the discussion on the primitive nature of the Borg intruders they had neutralized and wondered if their primitiveness extended into other areas as well. “Collective,” she repeated, “the unimatrix, the network that links all Borg together.” The Borg shook its head, “Know of no.... such... thing.” Cutting to the chase, Townsend asked, “Are you really Rexar Arthrun?” The answer came without hesitation, “Yes, that was......is my name. You are here to rescue me? We should go before the others find out.” Of all the thoughts racing though her brain, one made it’s way to the forefront, if this is Rexar Arthrun, then who is that back on the Persepheron? Dulak called out from his position near the interface conduit. “Sir, I have accessed the Borg systems. I am uploading my secondary program now that should allow us to neutralize the vessels control systems. I am not encountering any resistance...” A bright flash, followed immediately by the loud crack of an electric spark, punctuated his sentence. Before the ozone rich cloud caused by the circuit overload enveloped him, Dulak fell over limply, the interface device falling out of his slack fingers and clattering onto the deck. “Dulak!” Tara called out as she sprinted the few steps to her fallen crewmate. Townsend tapped her com badge, “Townsend to Persepheron three.... no four to beam over, will explain. Notify Dr. O’Connell, we have a casualty.” Motioning to the Rexar Drone, she stepped over towards Dulak and Tara just as two additional drones rounded the corner, moving much more quickly than the ones before. The flustered voice of crewman Parker came back over the com badge. “Parker here Sir, who is the forth person?” Without pausing to consider if they were the same drones as before, or if they could be former Starfleet like the one who stood next to her seemed to be, Townsend tapped Tara on the shoulder. “Now would be a good time to discharge those capacitors Lieutenant.” Tara looked up and without hesitation shot two bolts at the approaching drones. They struck accurately, one into the center of each drone’s chest. The Drones lurched, then fell over. Speaking more urgently into her com badge, Townsend replied to Parker’s question. “Crewman, it’s the only other life sign standing within two feet of us. It probably shows up as a Borg. Just energize, I don’t have time to explain.” Two more Borg Drones rounded the corner, but Parker’s plasma rifle hadn’t recycled yet. It was apparently powerful, but with a slow rate of fire. The drones stepped quickly over their fallen companions and walked purposefully towards the intruders. Before Townsend thought to look at the Rexar Drone for its reaction, the transporter beam engulfed them and the Borg ship faded from view. USS Persepheron Bridge Commander Ridgeway entered the bridge and looked towards the center viewscreen at the striking blonde woman wearing some kind of cloth wrapped around her. Standing next to her was a Starfleet commander, and the bridge layout was reassuringly typical Starfleet. During the brief walk from the transporter room to the bridge, Ridgeway tried to organize his thoughts. Glad that he had chosen to take the response to their distress call on the bridge, if only for the minute or so it allowed him to think, he nonetheless felt like he needed more time to process all that had happened so far. Time was a luxury, however, that he didn’t have. Expecting the persons on the viewscreen to notice him and begin speaking, he realized that they didn’t see him. Operating on the assumption that the audio channel was open he spoke. “Commander Ridgeway here, sorry for the delay.” The female spoke, clearly in charge. “Persepheron, please put your bridge back on display, I want to see who I’m talking to.” Without waiting for a reply, assuming her request would be carried out, she continued. “This is Captain Shelby of the USS Sutherland, we are proceeding at best speed to your location. Give me the short version.” Davis flipped a toggle at his station, and apparently, from her change of focus, Shelby was now able to see Ridgeway. “Captain,” Ridgeway started. “We were at impulse effecting repairs to a malfunctioning deflector array when the Borg hailed us with their standard Resistance is Futile message and locked onto us with a tractor beam. We were able to break it’s hold on us with our own beams and gain temporary control. They attempted to board us, but we managed to neutralize the Borg on the Persepheron. We proceeded at warp towards.....” Shelby cut in, “Commander, I thought you said your deflector was down?” Nodding, Ridgeway clarified, “It is Sir. We used the Borg vessel as a screen. Had the added benefit of keeping them occupied and unable to counter our tractor beams, or send another boarding party.” Grinning slightly, Shelby was impressed at the man’s ingenuity, “Creative Commander, but what were you going to do next?” Ridgeway looked almost embarrassed, “I was going to slingshot the Borg vessel into a nearby star. We’re kind of short on firepower.” “Again, a creative solution. Why did you feel the need to drop out of warp and send over an away team?” Shelby queried.” Changing from embarrassed back to at least a little confident looking, Ridgeway answered. “From several perspectives, the Borg were different from those the Federation had encountered before. They were somehow more...” T’Noor interrupted from the science console. “Sir, I just detected an energy surge followed by energy weapon discharges near the away team. I’m also getting readings on several Borg drones approaching their position.” Ridgeway opened his mouth to issue orders when the frantic voice of Crewman Parker resonated over the tug’s general announcing system, “Dr. O’Connell to the transporter room, there’s an away team casualty.” T’Noor reported further from her console, “Sir, the away team is being beamed back, but it looks like a Borg is beaming with them.” Shouting above the even delivery of the Vulcan science officer, Chief Prak stepped back from the tractor beam control panel as it crackled and smoked. “Gragnar’s Balls, my console’s down.” Ridgeway looked from Shelby to T’Noor to Chief Prak, trying to decide what to do. To make matters worse, the ship bucked suddenly from some kind of impact, jolting the bridge crew. Then the lights went out and the viewscreen went dead, leaving the bridge in darkness. USS Sutherland Bridge Captain Shelby inhaled sharply as the image of the Persepheron’s bridge faded from view. “Helm, ETA at maximum warp?” Lieutenant Django shook her head, “Five hours, thirteen minutes Captain.” “Then it looks like we’re going to go faster than maximum warp. I don’t want to get there just to search a debris field. Sam, didn’t you say they were near Starbase 214? Hail them and patch it to me.” Shelby strode into her ready room and as the door swished closed behind her, Lavelle turned to the Ensign at Ops, “You heard the Captain, hail Starbase 214 and send it in there.” Without waiting for acknowledgement, Lavelle punched up engineering and prepared to give them the good news.
Re: Star Trek: Shepard; Recovery, Chapter 9 Things are picking up nicely here. We have the mystery of the two chiefs and the Sutherland on its way to the rescue. Poor Jadon, his engines are in for another workout... Well done!
Re: Star Trek: Shepard; Recovery, Chapter 9 This is fun! You provide a lot of detail and character interplay along with a unique and interesting plot. The two chiefs are certainly a mystery! And now the Sutherland is speeding along to enter the fray. What will they find when they arrive?
Re: Star Trek: Shepard; Recovery, Chapter 9 Sweet story. I had read the very first part when you first revealed it and then forgotten about it because there didn't seem to be more forthcoming. I'm glad I got a chance to read this. 2 Chiefs and primitive Borg minus a collective-very intriguing!
Re: Star Trek: Shepard; Recovery, Chapter 9 The two 'chiefs' was interesting, but to tell you the truth; I'm still more intrigued by these "primitive" borg.
Re: Star Trek: Shepard; Recovery, Chapter 9 You added the two chiefs mystery to that of the primitive Borg. This story is coming along nicely.
Re: Star Trek: Shepard; Recovery, Chapter 9 Im wondering if this has something to do with the experimental drive the Shepard was testing. Maybe when the pushed the engines in that final test they punched through to somewhere else. an AU borg perhaps, that cant link up to this universe's collective cause they simply aren't the same. Who knows. it might explain why they are more primitive. 7of9 lost a chunk of her knowledge when she was removed from the collective. Not all of it of course, but who knows what jumping dimensions might do to a drone.
Star Trek: Shepard, Aborted Feburary Challenge Well, I started to write a Feburary challenge, based on a different line than I thought would be common, but didn't finish it. It does involve the Shepard storyline, so I'll post the fragment here, maybe I'll even finish it sometime. Also, i wanted to appologize for not posting in a while. I took a week off to get some stuff done, and before I knew it, two months had gone by..
Re: Star Trek: Shepard, Aborted Feburary Challenge No more time off for you, young... whatever you are! Get back to work! Expiring minds want to know more! Primitive Borg, indeed! I s'pose next you'll be telling us they aren't even real Borg-they just dress that way! Well, I need to know more so get cracking! I'm having too much fun with this for you to make us all wait! Again. For months.