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|April 13 2015, 02:09 AM||#1|
Star Trek: Four Years War-Class of 2242
CLASS OF ’42
The bridge rattled as it was pummeled again. Somewhere behind him a console sparked, smoke clawed at his eyes, heat seared his face. Captain Robert Wesley swatted at the smoke, wiping his tearing eyes.
Another console exploded and he heard a groan and a hard thud. He forced himself not to look in the direction of the noise. He kept his eyes focused on the ship coming at them, on an attack vector.
He had been in war, but never against a Bird-of-Prey. The small, green avian ship was quick, agile. It avoided Trainer’s return volley, while still maintaining an attack course.
It loosed disruptor blasts, stitching the ship again. The deck pitched, threatening to knock Wesley from his seat, but he held on for dear life.
“What’s our status?” He yelled over the roaring fires and blaring klaxons. Through the dark pillars of smoke, he heard Cadet Glover rasp.
“Shields are failing, warp drive is offline, structural integrity is down 50%,” he answered.
Wesley caught himself from asking why Cecilia hadn’t replied instead of Glover. Grimly he realized that she was beyond answering.
“Aft weapons are gone,” Glover said. “But we’ve still got forward phasers and photon torpedoes.”
“Keep using them Mr. Glover,” Wesley ordered. He squinted through the smoky bridge, “Helm, evasive maneuvers.”
“That’s a bit hard to do sir,” Ensign Hynes retorted. “We’ve got three of the buggers hitting us from three sides.”
“Make a way dammit,” Wesley groused.
“Aye sir,” Hynes replied.
“Somebody do something about this damn smoke!” Wesley said, seconds before the smoke snaked into his throat. He coughed strongly, with spasms. Anger and fear warred within him.
“What about the freighter sir?” Glover asked. The ventilation coughed back to life and the smoke cleared just enough for Wesley to see the pitiful civilian ship just beyond their grasp.
Wesley thought he could swoop into the Neutral Zone and rescue the crew without the Romulans being none the wiser, but it had been like they had been waiting for them. Perhaps they had been.
What if this were nothing more than a trap? The Romulans had proven themselves quite devious and cunning during their war with Earth almost a century ago. Perhaps they were taking advantage of the Federation’s preoccupation with the Klingons to expand their empire, luring the Federation into a two-front war.
Now you see her point, Wesley chided himself. Cecilia had warned him that the distress call, coming inside the Neutral Zone, was suspicious. But Wesley had ignored her.
His first duty was to save lives, even at the cost of his own…or his crew.
“The freighter sir?” Glover pressed.
“How soon can we get the warp engines back online?” Wesley asked.
It was a moment and several more jabs from the Romulans before Glover answered. “Sir, with the damage we’ve received, it will take three hours, and that’s being generous.”
“Damn,” Wesley slapped his armrest.
“Do we proceed toward the freighter or retreat?” Glover asked. Wesley rubbed his face, dozens of scenarios running through his brain, with two becoming predominant in his mind.
It was possible that Trainer could make it to the freighter and maybe even drop their shields long enough to beam the crew aboard, but there was no guarantee that they could continue to fight off three Romulan Birds-of-Prey, with more likely on the way, back to the Neutral Zone.
If they retreated, on full impulse, and using evasive maneuvers as best they could, they just might make it back across into Federation territory, and then dare the Romulans to enter their space.
Making up his mind, Wesley cleared his throat. Just at that moment, a loud burst of static filled the bridge.
“Captain Wesley…we are in need of assistance….we’re losing life support…please hurry.”
“Damn it,” Wesley said, shifting gears.
“Ensign Hynes, take us in,” he said.
“Are you daft Captain?” Hynes replied. “We’ll never make it.”
“It’s not about always about you,” Wesley snapped, feeling a bit regretful at letting something personal slip. If he got a chance he would apologize later. “Follow my orders!”
“Yes…sir.” Wesley could tell that the woman’s words came through gritted teeth.
“More power to shields, and engines at full impulse,” Wesley barked. “When we reach that freighter Cyprian I want you to drop our shields and swipe as many people as you can, in less than five seconds, I don’t think the Romulans will give us any more than that.”
“Aye sir,” Glover replied. “I’ve relayed your instructions to Chief Azad. He’s going to use the cargo bay transporters.”
Wesley nodded. “Good work Cyprian.” He looked back at the younger man, and managed a grin. “We might get out of this yet.”
Glover returned his grin. “Space isn’t a boxing ring.”
“I wish it were,” Wesley chuckled. “I would really show these Romulans who’s boss.”
The ship jerked wildly, forcing the captain to look back at the helm.
“What is it now Fiona?” He asked, a hard ball of dread in his stomach.
“Oh nothing, just thought the testosterone was cresting a bit too high,” she replied.
“Very funny,” Wesley said, amazed that the three of them could joke around in the midst of this destruction. Gallows humor, he realized. It was better than giving into despair he supposed, but still perhaps a bit unseemly.
He tugged down on his gray and white tunic. He set his jaw and leaned forward, his eyes boring into the helpless freighter, willing Trainer to go faster.
“Come on girl,” he muttered. “Just a few more seconds.”
Fiona pulled the ship up quickly beside the listing freighter. “Drop shields, wide sweep with transporter beams,” Wesley ordered.
Glover relayed the message to Azad before he said, “Dropping shields.” Seconds after he spoke his panel exploded, throwing him to the deck.
“Damn it!” Wesley cursed. He didn’t have time to check on Glover. “Keep them off us Fiona!” He ordered as he rerouted the functions from Glover’s console to his own armrest.
It took too damn owing to Glover having to reroute several bridge functions to his own terminal after the personnel manning them had been incapacitated or worse.
“Doing my level best sir,” Hynes said, as the ship juked and juddered, escaping some of the barrage, but not all. All three Romulan ships were approaching now. All three were firing. And the trio was connecting. There wasn’t much more that Trainer could take and Wesley didn’t need a damage report to tell him so.
He toggled the shipboard communicator on his armrest. “How many did you beam aboard Jahid?”
“None sir,” came back the garbled reply.
“Damn it,” Wesley spat. He shook his head at the doomed freighter. “I’m sorry,” he muttered.
“Fiona, get us out of here!” He barked.
She looked back at him, her eyes widened. She shook her head, “It’s too late.” The terrible trio filled the screen, seconds before they unleashed a fusillade at Trainer and everything went white.
Wesley threw up his hands, to shield them from the blinding light. When he removed them, he squinted up at a formidable presence standing over him.
Admiral Brewington’s arms were crossed. His countenance was hard. “You failed ‘Captain’ Wesley.”
Wesley swallowed down a retort as he jumped out of his seat, hastily standing at attention. His cheeks burned, the reaction embarrassing. He pushed through that though. “Sir,” he said slowly, “I wasn’t supposed to succeed. That’s the whole point of the test isn’t it?”
“That depends,” said a nimble Vulcan woman, with lieutenant braids on her uniform, and a clipboard in her hand. She stepped from behind Brewington. “The ostensible purpose of the test to assess command decision making. However some view it as being designed to experience fear in the face of certain death.”
Admiral Brewington nodded in agreement with the woman. While listening, Robert couldn’t help but notice how her lithe frame fit in the snug gold uniform. The woman noticed his appraisal and she did a most un-Vulcanlike frown.
Wesley dipped his head in embarrassment. He certainly hadn’t wanted to get caught, but he felt bad for looking at another woman besides his fiancée Virginia.
It was bad enough having Fiona as part of the simulation. Ginny had not liked hearing that at all, but Robert had defended the decision to include her. She was the best flight controller he had the pleasure of serving with at the Academy, and she just happened to be his ex. Wesley had been lucky to get her, and Captain Hart had been gracious to pull some strings to get Fiona on loan from the Canopus.
“Lt. T’Jaana is correct,” Brewington said. His expression softened. “There was really no way to fail this test.”
“If that’s the case, what’s with the clipboard?” Fiona said, walking stiffly toward them. Brewington scowled.
Wesley took a moment to sweep around the bridge. His crew was mostly on their feet, though some were getting up a little slower than others. The medical team had arrived and was checking over them. To add a degree of realism to the simulation real smoke, fire, and mild electric shocks had been incorporated. The Kobayashi Maru test was something some cadets had blown off before, but now with the war with the Klingons Starfleet Academy wanted everyone to take it seriously. It could literally mean the difference between and death. Which wasn’t a good omen for Robert since he had gotten everyone killed. He shook his head, pushing down his self-disappointment. He would grapple with that later, in the days to come, if not the months.
It didn’t help that he saw a grimacing Cecilia Adare, his first officer, getting her shoulder mended to. He smiled in sympathetically at her. He was heartened that she returned the gesture with a thumbs up.
He grinned as he saw Cyprian playfully swatting away a medical tricorder from a comely ebon-skinned nurse. The woman dug in her heels, scanning him, and stealing a quick kiss on his cheek. He was glad to see that Cyprian had finally made his move.
During one of the endless graduation parties Cyprian had drug him to, Wesley had saw the nurse making eyes at Cyprian. And he had encouraged the younger man to pursue if for no other reason to occupy Glover’s time while Wesley made it back to talk with Ginny.
“We do use this test to see who is fit for command,” Brewington answered the woman. “And failure, or the prospect of it, and how one faces it, is part of the test.”
“So, how did he do?” Fiona asked.
Brewington snorted and T’Jaana pursed her lips with obvious displeasure at Fiona’s impertinence. Wesley could only shake his head. Her bluntness was one of the things that still endeared her to him, as well as nettled him to death.
The admiral glared at the woman and Hynes withstood it. To his surprise Brewington nodded with satisfaction after a few moments. “I like you kid.”
Standing at attention, Fiona seemed to grow taller. “Thank you sir.”
“Don’t push it though,” Brewington warned. He turned back to Wesley, “To answer Ensign Hynes’s question though,” he paused, his eyes taking Robert’s measure. Wesley met his gaze and just hoped he looked as confident as Fiona had moments ago. “Lt. Wesley, congratulations. You passed Command School.”
Dear readers I'm back again with another Four Years War tale. I hope you enjoy what's coming.
I wanted to pay homage to United Trek and David Falkayn's UT Lexington series by depicting some of what Robert Wesley was doing during the Four Years War. I largely drew information from Wesley from the UT wiki, but combined it with some of the stuff I found on Memory Alpha.
-Fiona comes from Memory Alpha, as does Captain Hart. From a personnel profile written by Michael Okuda for the Starship Creator video game.
-Starfleet Command School I got from Memory Beta. It is mostly from Trek Lit.
-USS Trainer was the name of the bridge simulator where Kirk conducted his Kobayashi Maru test in Star Trek (2009).
-For more UT connections I've added a new Glover to the mix: Cyprian Glover.
Last edited by DarKush; April 13 2015 at 03:36 AM.
|April 13 2015, 12:40 PM||#2|
Re: Star Trek: Four Years War-Class of 2242
Another interesting perspective on the 4YW, this time from the fresh meat at the Academy. I'm assuming they will be offered to the grinder soon enough. As for foreshadowing, well it can't be any clearer than this. Things will go bad. Eventually.
Alas its good to see Wesley again, a younger version, less wise and maybe more gang-ho? At least we'll know he'll make it through whatever is yet to come.
|April 14 2015, 02:41 AM||#3|
Re: Star Trek: Four Years War-Class of 2242
Beta Aquilae II
Junior Lt. Robert Wesley had to stop digging into his shepherd’s pie every few minutes to take a hearty congratulation or back clap or squeeze on the shoulder from well-wishers. News of his success in the Kobayashi Maru test had already spread.
Even though he didn’t know many of those congratulating him, his class having graduated a year earlier from the San Francisco campus, Wesley gratefully accepted them all. Though he was more than a little glad once the stream of visitors died down and it was just him and an old friend sitting alone in the crowded mess hall.
“I bet your pie’s cold,” Cadet Glover said, with a grin.
“Yeah,” Wesley said, taking another bite. Mashed potatoes just didn’t taste the same cold. He stuck his fork in the rest and pushed the plate away. “It wasn’t that good anyway,” he said. “Not much different than the stuff at San Fran.” He winced after a moment. “Sorry.” Cyprian had traveled from Earth the Beta Aquilae II annex to participate in Wesley’s test.
Glover chuckled before taking another sip of Vulcan spice tea. He shrugged, “It’s only a few more months and then I’ll be in the Fleet, eating the good stuff.” His smile faded as a cloud settled over his features. “And I’ll be blasting those Foreheads straight to hell.”
Wesley’s expression became somber. Inwardly he kicked himself for mentioning anything that might remind Cyprian of the loss of his brother Hadrian. Of course he knew he was being a bit irrational, because he didn’t know what wouldn’t dredge up sorrowful memories. The elder Glover had died only months ago at the Battle of Aldebaran III, one of the few ‘bright spots’ in the war, if the near decimation of the taskforce could ever be considered such.
At least it had kept the Klingons’ paws off the Aldebaran system and the New Aberdeen Shipyards. The Klingons had attempted again, and had been rebuffed by an even stronger force.
This had to pain Cyprian even more since Hadrian’s taskforce had been undermanned. Maybe if Starfleet had made a stronger showing the first time, Hadrian might still be alive.
“Listen, I’m sorry,” Wesley said. He needed to escape the war himself, not be dragged back into thinking about it.
Though that was really impossible. It hung like a funereal shroud over everything and everyone at Beta Aquilae, and he was certain the situation was the same at the San Francisco and Beta Ursae Minor II campuses. It was completely opposite how his class, the Class of ’41, had approached their graduation. It had been a time of celebration, of optimism. Now what did the Class of ’42 have to look forward to? Nothing but war; and a losing war at that.
“Now that you’ve stuffed your face,” Glover’s smile lacked warmth, “Tell me about the war.”
Wesley’s stomach tightened. It was the one thing he didn’t want to talk about, but he could see the eagerness in Cyprian’s eyes, the hunger.
Wesley took a drink of water, steadying himself. “We…saw action against the Klingons in the Hatarian system,” he finally said. “We were the first to respond to a distress call from Boomtown, a colony of former Space Boomers that had settled down there.
Glover nodded impatiently, urging him on. Wesley sighed. He took another sip. “Three Klingon warbirds were attacking the colony, pulverizing it. It wasn’t about conquest…it was mass slaughter.”
“What do you expect?” Glover asked, “From these barbarians.”
Wesley frowned. The anger, the hatred for the Klingons was so stark and raw, it shocked him, especially coming from Cyprian. But could he blame the man? After what the Klingons had done to his family, after what they had done, and were doing to millions of families?
Besides, he knew he had heard worse from his own compatriots aboard the Glasgow. Hell, he had called them worse himself in tense moments.
“Klingon warbirds huh?” Glover asked.
“Yeah,” Wesley nodded, as his memories came to the fore. “Captain Hart is one of the best, but even she couldn’t outfight three warbirds, so we ran.”
Glover sputtered on his tea. “You did what?”
“We retreated,” Wesley said, his cheeks warming, his tone defensive. “What did you expect us to do, commit suicide?”
“No,” Glover shook his head, his tone belying his words, “Of course not, but still, how could you leave the colony?”
“Us running protected the colony,” Wesley said. “The Klingons took off after us. Captain Hart led them into the Vodrey Nebula and we lost them there. By the time we made it back to the colony, the rest of our patrol had arrived.”
“I see,” Glover said.
“No, you don’t,” Wesley regretted snapping at his friend, but he wanted him to see reality. “It was harrowing. Trying to outrun the Klingons, hiding out in the nebula, avoiding their spatial charges, barely staying one step ahead of them.” He shuddered, feeling a sudden chill. “And that was nothing compared to the battle the Klingons waged against the patrol once they came out of the nebula.”
“But you won,” Glover said, with pride a bit of envy, “You defeated them.”
“We destroyed two ships, the third self-destructed instead of being captured,” Wesley shook his head. “So much senseless loss.”
“But they were Klingons,” Glover shrugged.
“How could you say that?” Wesley was aghast.
“How could you ask me that?” Glover countered.
“This wasn’t a simulation. It was real, nasty work,” Wesley explained. “The Klingons were ferocious fighters. It was only our superior numbers which helped us win the day. Don’t be so eager to join this war. It has real consequences, even for those who survive it.”
“I get that,” Cyprian replied, his tone once again belying his words. “But I can’t let them get away with what they did to Hadrian. I will make them pay for what they did.”
“Cyprian,” Wesley measured his words. “You can’t let them…turn you into something you’re not. You’re not a hate-filled, bitter person. This is war and we must do what we can to win it, but not lose our souls in the process.”
“Easier said than done,” Glover’s hard expression was heart rending.
“We can’t become like them,” Wesley shook his head, “If we do, what’s the point of even fighting them?”
“We live and they die,” Glover said, getting up from the table, “And that’s the only point that matters.”
-Clarifying. Captain Hart was mentioned from Okuda's personnel file for Robert Wesley, but her gender was chosen by me. Also Fiona was his wife; in the UT his first wife is Virginia. So Fiona in this story become his ex-girlfriend.
-Shepherd's Pie, an Irish dish that pays homage to Okuda having Wesley's birthplace as Ireland.
-Cyprian Glover's hatred of the Klingons is juxtaposed against his descendent Terrence Glover's reverence for Klingons and Klingon culture.
-Klingon warbirds were first mentioned in Enterprise, but were briefly featured in Star Trek (2009).
-The Vodrey Nebula was near the Hatarian and Maranga systems, along the Federation-Klingon border.
-Memory Alpha had several Starfleet Academy campuses: San Francisco, Beta Aquilae II, Beta Ursae Minor II, and Psi Upsilon III. I decided to go with Psi Upsilon III not being established yet.
To the readers...Thanks CeJay for reading and commenting. I wanted to throw everyone off at first with the Kobayashi Maru test scene. Glad it worked for a little while . I thought looking at Academy cadets could be interesting, with the war looming in their futures, so I hope you enjoy the story.
|April 19 2015, 02:07 AM||#4|
Re: Star Trek: Four Years War-Class of 2242
Beta Aquilae II
Cyprian Glover was roiling. He hadn’t meant to storm out on his friend. He didn’t even know when, or if, he would ever see Wesley again. It had been wrong of him, selfish, but what else could he do?
He just couldn’t sit there and let Robert feed him a sack of soft-hearted shit. Not after what they had done to Hadrian, not to mention his girlfriend Agnes. The last conversation that Hadrian had had with him, he had told him he was thinking about popping the question to her. And now they were both dead. He could never forgive the Klingons for what they had done. He could never see their ‘side’ of things.
Perhaps it was unfair to accuse Wesley of encouraging him to do so, but Cyprian’s emotions had gotten the best of him, like they had been doing of late, and he had decided to leave.
He hadn’t even said anything to Fiona as he brushed by her. He couldn’t even look in her eyes. He didn’t want her to see what was in his.
And he had walked out of the mess and across campus, avoiding eye contact with everyone, not sure where he was going until he got there.
Now he stood outside her door, hesitant to activate the door chime. He didn’t know where else to go, but he didn’t want to burden her either. But still he lingered.
The decision was taken away from him when the door slid open. Both he and the girl suddenly face-to-face he was with jumped back, both startled.
“Cyprian?” A familiar voice asked from behind the startled girl.
The blond Eska smiled at him. “So you’re Cyprian?” She looked him up and down, with a half-lidded appreciative gaze. Cyprian’s cheeks warmed. “Nice…to meet you.” She held out a hand. “This is the human custom is it not?”
“Of course,” the question jumpstarted Glover and he awkwardly shook her hand.
“Don’t pay Eneca any attention,” a laughing Dalia nudged the blond out of the doorway. “She’s like that with all the guys.”
Cyprian’s balloon punctured just a little to hear that, but he put on a brave face, “Oh sure, right.”
Dalia gestured for him to come in. “Wait a minute,” Eneca said. “We’re actually going out.” Glover looked back at her and noticed the woman was in a rainbow-colored blouse, with a very revealing V running down the middle. Cyprian also noticed that Dalia was out of her normal white scrubs. She was dressed in wine colored mini dress, cinched with a Tholian silk belt.
He placed a hand against the back of his head, feeling more awkward, “Listen, I don’t want to interrupt.”
“Too late,” Eneca said. “Let me save you the trouble Dal, I’ll go on without you.”
“Thanks Eneca,” Dalia said.
The Eska shrugged, “It’s no big deal. Besides whatever I catch I won’t be as lucky as you,” she growled playfully at Cyprian before leaving.
Once Eneca had left, Dalia guided him to the couch. She hovered over him, “Care for something to drink?”
“I’m serious Dalia,” Glover said. “I mean, if you hurry you can still catch up with Eneca. Go out and have some fun.”
“I much rather would stay with you and you know that,” Dalia said before she made her way over to the dorm room’s small kitchenette. She came back with two steaming mugs of Vulcan spice tea. Dalia knew him so well.
“Thank you,” he said, carefully taking one. Dalia sat beside him. They sipped their tea in silence for a moment.
“So, where were you two headed?” Cyprian asked.
“The Recreation Room,” Dalia replied.
“Dressed…like that?” Glover was incredulous.
“Yeah,” Dalia shrugged, “Eneca tells me it’s a pretty happening scene. I mean, Beta Aquilae II is only so big.”
“You’re right about that,” he said, longing to get back to Earth.
“And Eneca promised there would be a lot of sights to be seen.”
“In the get up you have on, you would’ve been one of them.” Glover shook his head, a note of disapproval in his voice.
“Don’t tell me you’re jealous?”
“No…well, yeah, I guess a little,” Cyprian admitted.
“Well you should be,” Dalia smiled, “I’m one of a kind.”
“I know that,” Glover said, putting his tea down on the coffee table in front of the couch. He carefully removed Dalia’s tea from her hands and set it down as well. He settled into the corner of the couch and pulled Dalia to him. She nestled in his arms. They both sighed. Dalia placed his head against his chest.
It was the first calm he had experienced in hours it seemed. The Kobayashi Maru tested had keyed him up and then his spat with Robert. Now he could unwind entangled with Dalia.
“I’m glad I got paired with Eneca,” Dalia said. “She was lacking a roommate and with us being assigned here temporarily for the test, it worked out perfectly.” Glover had lucked out, there was space enough in the male dormitory to room to place both him and Jahid together.
“I don’t know,” Glover said, “Eneca sounds like a trouble maker to me.”
“She’s man hungry, I’ll admit, but when was that a crime?”
“Not one I would ever arrest anyone for,” Cyprian laughed. Dalia softly punched him in the arm.
“Maybe it’s me that has to worry about you,” She said.
“Absolutely…not,” Glover replied. He ran his hands through Dalia’s cornrows. “Believe me; I know what’s good for me.”
“You better,” she warned. He nodded.
“You don’t have to tell me twice,” he said.
“So, what’s wrong with you?” Dalia asked, “Or am I going to have to go into my medical bag and scrounge up something to drag it out of you?”
Glover sighed again. “I…it’s….me and Robert…” He didn’t know where to start.
“Your friend Lt. Wesley?” She asked, turning halfway to look up at him. “Something happened to him?”
“No, nothing like that…nothing serious, I mean, well it is serious,” Cyprian was getting tongue-tied.
“Could you be anymore cryptic?” Dalia said.
“I…uh…I had words with him,” Glover was finally able to get out.
“What…kind of words?”
“It was an argument, well not quite that; he said something that pissed me off and I just snapped at him and left.”
“What did he say?”
Glover thought back on the conversation. “He said some crap like we shouldn’t lose our souls to fight this war.” He shook his head, his tone becoming bitter. “He even seemed to care about some Klingons he killed in battle.”
“Cyprian,” Dalia said carefully, “I agree with him.”
“I agree with him,” she said more assuredly. “If we become them, we will lose this war, and it doesn’t matter which side technically wins it.”
“I see you’re drinking from the same peacenik cup,” Glover was disgusted, he could feel his anger rising.
Dalia sat up and looked deeply at him. He could tell she was pouring her love for him through her focus gaze. She was trying apply salve to the wound in his heart.
But there could be no healing, not until the Klingons paid for what they did. “It was a mistake to come here,” Cyprian said. “I thought you, of all people, would understand.”
“Of course I understand,” Dalia was stung. “I was there for you, remember?”
“I know,” Cyprian’s thoughts flashed back to her arms comforting him shortly after receiving the news from his mother, and she had been at the memorial service, held in the Aldebaran system.”
He had no right to treat her this way, but he couldn’t help himself. There was something within him, a dragon that blew fire throughout him, and it would not be sated until he drew blood.
“Don’t push me away,” Dalia pleaded.
“I-I should go,” It break him even to say it, but what else could he do? The dragon’s grip was strong and he felt its breath at the back of his neck.
He slid off the couch. Dalia reached out, grabbing his wrist. “You don’t have to do this alone Cyprian. You don’t have to be alone.”
He looked down at her, his heart rending, water rimming his eyes, “Maybe I do.” He pulled gently away from her. And he didn’t look back as he left her room.
|April 20 2015, 12:01 AM||#5|
Re: Star Trek: Four Years War-Class of 2242
Beta Aquilae II
Robert Wesley sat alone, clutching his glass of water, but no longer thirsty. He had thought about going after Cyprian, but figured the young man needed time alone. Wesley also recognized he needed alone time himself, to mull over what was said and what wasn’t said.
Maybe Cyprian was right. Not only had Klingons massacred strangers, they had killed members of his crew, others of his graduating class.
And once Glasgow arrived for him, he would be putting his life back on the line, and soon might fall to Klingon disruptors or blades.
The thought was sobering to say the least, not to mention too damn depressing on a day he should be celebrating. He had gotten through the dreaded Kobayashi Maru.
Command had been something he had considered, but never seriously, until serving aboard Glasgow. There his mind had been changed. Captain Hart had spoken with him personally. She had liked how he reacted under pressure. She saw potential in him.
He was largely at Beta Aquilae II because of her encouragement. And he didn’t want to let her down.
Ginny had been thrilled when he had told her the news. It was as if she had known command was the right fit for him all along, but had waited until he came around to that decision himself. He smiled, remembering their conversation.
“At least one person is happy to see me.” The words pulled him out of his sweet reverie. He glanced up. Fiona was standing across from him, clutching a tray. A bowl of something pungent was steaming on it.
She sat down without asking permission, as was her wont. “Still basking in the glow huh?”
“No, not really,” Wesley said, suddenly embarrassed to admit that he was thinking of his fiancée.
“Well something’s got you going all Cheshire over there,” Fiona said before she shoveled a spoonful of stew into her mouth. She chewed loudly.
“Ugh, what is that stuff?” Wesley asked.
Swallowing it down, Fiona took a swig from a bottle of Altair water. After smacking her lips in satisfaction, she replied with a grin, “Andorian redbat stew.” She pushed the bowl forward. Wesley shrank back in his chair.
“No thank you.”
“You don’t know what you’re missing,” she said, dipping her spoon in again. They settled into a semi-quiet silence, punctuated by Fiona’s chewing and slurping. Once the woman was finished, it had never taken Fiona long to eat, she pushed the bowl aside.
“What did you mean at least one person was happy to see you?” Wesley asked.
“Oh, yeah, that,” Fiona shrugged, “Cyprian just brushed by me on his way out. It was like he wouldn’t even look at me. I mean, before the test we were just having a great conversation, getting all caught up, but just now it was like I didn’t even exist.”
“You have me to thank for that,” Robert said. Fiona crossed her arms, placing her elbows on the table. She leaned forward, her eyebrows knitting in concern.
“What happened?” She asked. Wesley told her. After he finished, Fiona shook her head again. “Listen, I can see both sides of it. I mean, Cyp might not truly get where you’re coming from until he’s out there, on the front lines.”
“Then it might be too late,” Robert shook his head, “He might be so gung ho, so full of anger that he makes a mistake that might cost him his life, or someone else’s.”
“That could happen to any of us, at any time,” Fiona said, “That’s how wars go, you know?”
“No, I don’t know,” Wesley replied sternly. “And you didn’t either. Hell, no one had for about a hundred years.”
Fiona just took the jibe and kept on. “The best thing Cyp needs right now is to let off some steam. Perhaps a few rounds in the boxing ring.” Wesley nodded in agreement at that. He shared a love of boxing with both Fiona and Cyprian. They had all been the Academy team. Robert had even won the Academy Boxing Championships last year. “If I had the time I would find him and we could mix it up, but Canopus will be here within the hour,” she added.
“Shipping back off again, so soon?” Wesley was regretful that they wouldn’t have more time to spend together. Cecilia had already shipped off on the Hayashi.
“Yeah,” Fiona answered. She leaned forward, lowering her voice. “Canopus has been assigned to the Fourth Fleet. I hear that we are going to defend the Deneb system.”
“The Empire is relentless,” Wesley shook his head. “They keep attacking, attacking, attacking.”
“And that’s why we have to fight back,” Fiona replied, her expression darkening, “But it’s like we don’t have any ships that can really give them much of a fight, much less push them back.”
“We’re explorers, not warriors,” Wesley countered.
“Well, if we want to survive, we’re going to have to adapt to the new situation,” She riposted. “Like you have, Captain Wesley,” she grinned as she touched the sleeve of his gold uniform. It matched hers.
Her touch sent a little spark through him, a guilty spark. Wesley walled off those old feelings. “Why haven’t you decided to take the Kobayashi Maru, Fiona?”
She shrugged, “Command is not my scene. I like flying ships. Not telling people what to do. Someone points me in the proper direction and off I go.”
“That worked before the war, but now, with our losses, we’re going to need all the talented officers we can get.”
“I think you forgot who you are talking to,” she chuckled, “I barely made it through the Academy with all of my infractions. I can’t see any higher up putting me on the path to getting my own starship.”
“Like you said, sometimes you’ve got to adapt,” Wesley smiled. Now Fiona shook her head.
“Still Mr. Optimism,” she clucked, “I hated that about you.”
“No you didn’t,” Wesley’s smile grew wider. Fiona laughed again.
“Always the dreamer,” she said.
“And you were always the cynic,” he replied.
“So when are you going to finally tell me about that ring?”
“Oh,” the abrupt question brought him up short. He held up his hand, the gold band reflected in the light. “Yeah, this. Well, it’s all sort of new.”
“It happened during my last shore leave,” Wesley said, recalling the events in his mind. “I didn’t want to leave without letting her know how much she means to me.”
“So,” Fiona asked, with uncharacteristic caution, “What is she like?”
“I, ah, uh, this feels pretty weird, talking about this with you,” Wesley admitted.
“Hey, we’re just two old friends having a conversation,” Fiona said, “You don’t have to tell me anything, you don’t owe me anything. It was a mutual split.”
“I know that, okay,” Wesley replied. He gathered his thoughts together, and then let all of his trepidation out with a heavy exhalation. “Ginny, Virginia, she’s great. She’s studying literature back on Earth, in the hopes of becoming a professor.”
“Sounds very…planet bound,” Fiona said.
“Yes,” Wesley agreed, “Wait? What was that I heard in your voice?”
Fiona looked away, “Oh, nothing.”
“Come on Fiona, it’s not like you to hold your tongue.”
Her grin was devilish. “I can’t hide much around you.”
“We do know each other very well,” Wesley pointed out.
“Perhaps too well,” Fiona added. Unusually she ran a hand anxiously through her dark hair. Her olive eyes filled with concern. And that pricked Wesley’s concern.
“Listen,” she stopped, her mouth working but no sounds came out. “I ah, I’m really the last person who should be saying this, or that you should be listening to.”
“Whatever happened between us, we’re friends,” Wesley declared. “Right?”
“Of course,” Fiona replied, relaxing. “I, umm, don’t know if you’re not rushing into this marriage.”
He was taken aback. He didn’t think Fiona was a jealous person, but he wondered now if there wasn’t some envy in her words. Or some regret that they had broken up.
“I know I shouldn’t have said anything,” she added. “Seeing you now, so happy, I know that I never made you feel so at ease.”
“That’s not true,” Wesley replied automatically. But deep down he knew that Fiona was right. Ginny was far more of a stabilizing influence in his life. She was a lodestar, whereas his relationship with Fiona had been tempestuous.
But he kept that to himself. He didn’t want to hurt her feelings, or make her clam up. There was a part of him that did want to hear what she had to say. Maybe, knowing him as well as she did, she saw something that he didn’t see, couldn’t see because he was blinded by his feelings for Virginia.
“I just don’t think marriage is really in the cards for people like us,” Fiona admitted.
Wesley was incredulous, “Are you serious? There are scores of people married in the Fleet.”
“I don’t know scores of people,” Fiona pinned him with her stare. “I know you, and I don’t think marriage, especially to someone so tied to one planet is going to end well…for either of you.”
“Trust me, we’ve discussed how we are going to make this work,” Wesley assured her. “Neither one of us are going in blind. We know it’s going to take extra effort to make it work between us. And we are going to make it work.”
Fiona’s smile was sad. “Still the optimist.”
“It would be wrong to uproot Ginny just as much as it would be wrong to expect me to take a job closer to Earth.”
“You know you could do just that,” Fiona said. “There’s the Merchant Service.”
“I know,” Wesley frowned, recalling that bit of advice from another friend. “I want to explore the deepest regions of space, to add to the knowledge of humanity and the Federation, not some company’s bottom line.”
“Exploration is exploration,” Fiona rejoined.
“No it isn’t,” Wesley shook his head vigorously, “and even if I chose the Merchant Marines that still could take me away from Earth for long periods.”
“Yeah, that is a conundrum,” Fiona conceded, “but at least you wouldn’t be drawn into wars.”
“Merchant Marines have to deal with all kinds of criminals, it’s not less dangerous,” Wesley said. “And their ships have less weapons and shielding. Plus the Klingons aren’t discriminating.”
“Okay, I’m done,” she said, “I’ve said my piece. You’re a big boy. You’ll do what you want to do. I just wish you the best.” She reached out and clasped his hands.
“Thank you Fiona,” Wesley said. The two held hands for an interminable time. They looked into each other’s eyes and through them to past and imagined futures.
Wesley coughed and pulled his hands out from under hers. Fiona nodded. “Well I guess I need to finish packing. Captain Ra-Hamnatraii is a stickler about time.”
Wesley rolled his eyes. “Who would’ve figured?”
“I know, right?” Fiona laughed. Her smile dimmed, “Whatever it is between you and Cyp, fix it before you go. You might not have another chance.”
“I understand,” Wesley said. They both stood. Fiona moved around the table to hug him. The hug was awkward, and too short, but if it had lasted any longer Wesley would’ve felt his guilt rising.
“Be careful out there,” he told her.
She punched his shoulder. “Are you forgetting who you are talking to?”
“Yeah, right. Oh well, raise as much hell as possible without getting tossed into the stockade.”
“I’ll reserve all my hell raising for the Klingons,” Fiona promised, “Until after this war is over.” They both laughed at that. And then Wesley walked her to her room. They stood silently at the door for a moment, the anxiousness heavy between them.
“No going in alright,” Fiona pressed against his chest and pushed him away. “You’ve missed out on his boat.”
“It was good while it lasted,” Wesley said.
“Yeah,” Fiona nodded. “But you’re where you need to be.”
“I am,” Wesley replied without reservation.
Before she slipped into the room she said, “Make me eat my words about the marriage thing.”
“You bet,” he replied to the closed door.
-Captain Ra-Hamnatraii (USS Canopus) might be an ancestor of Hakan ra-Hamnatraii from the UT series The Kieran Forester Chronicles.
|April 21 2015, 04:06 AM||#6|
Re: Star Trek: Four Years War-Class of 2242
Beta Aquilae II
Cyprian Glover lunged forward, unleashing a devastating combination on the other boxer, forcing the man to fall back. Unfortunately he had nowhere else to go but the ropes. He threw up his arms to shield his face, to prevent a knockout blow.
Glover went to work on his body, softening him up, forcing him to drop his guard. “That’s enough Cyp,” Jahid Azad called out from ringside. But he wasn’t listening to him. Instead he was in his own world and his hapless opponent had become a Klingon warrior in his imagination. Fierce and snarling, with daggers in each hand. And then he saw those blades cutting into his brother and so many of the memories he had shared with him, now ripped and torn apart. Gutted, like the Klingon did to Hadrian.
“Damn it Cyprian!” Azad called out again. There was movement behind him and then arms attempted to lock around him. On instinct Glover whipped around, taking a punch.
Jahid ducked it just in time, stiff arming Cyprian with a palm-open strike to the chest. It rocked Cyprian backward. Glover flexed his arms, his anger almost overcoming him.
“Cyp, you’re killing that guy,” Azad charged, pointing behind him. Glover glared, but followed the man’s jutting finger.
His anger subsided instantly at the sight before him. The other cadet was hanging onto the ropes, blood running from two cuts beneath his eyes and draining out of one of his nostrils. Both of his bruised eyes were swelling.
“Hey Prado,” Glover stepped toward him. He reached out, but the other man pushed him away. “I’m sorry.”
“Damn man, this was just supposed to be for fun,” Prado said, “Just mixing it up with a member of the Academy team, but you got real serious there.”
“I-I don’t know what came over me,” Glover lied. “Really, I’m sorry though,” he meant that. He didn’t want to pound on fellow cadets. He wanted to unload on the Klingons.
“Yeah, whatever,” the young man said, making his way to a corner and leaning against the turnbuckle for support.
“We can help you out,” Jahid offered. “We can get you to the infirmary.”
“Yeah,” Glover added quickly. “That’s the least I can do.”
“I could say no,” Prado replied, “but I know I’m going to need it.” Glover and Azad helped the young man out of the ring. He leaned on them, his legs rubbery.
The door opened on Lt. Wesley. He smiled at first before he saw the condition of Prado. “What the hell happened?” His face was set in hard line, his tone one of command.
Prado jerked his head in Cyprian’s direction. “I ran into a freight train.”
“Are you alright?” Wesley said, looking the man over and then hitting Glover with an accusatory stare. Cyprian glared back at him.
Perceptive as ever, Jahid interceded. “Listen guys, I can handle Prado here. I’ll make sure to get him to the infirmary. I think you guys need to talk.”
“No,” Glover shook his head. “I want to help.”
“Believe me Glover, you’ve helped enough,” Prado zinged. “I can take it from there. I think I can walk again on my own.” He gently disentangled himself from both Cyprian and Jahid.
“I’ll go with you just in case,” Azad said. “I’d rather do that than be a part of this,” he added. Prado shrugged and the two walked off.
Glover and Wesley looked at each other, neither not sure what to say. Cyprian nodded back toward the gym. “Care to go a round?”
Wesley considered it. “No,” he finally said, “I think you’ve had enough for tonight.”
“You still owe me a rematch,” Glover replied. They had last mixed it up after Wesley’s graduation. Wesley had out boxed him, as per usual, but that time he hadn’t knocked him out, and that gave Glover hope that he could eventually score a victory over the champion.
“I don’t think whaling on each other is what we need to be doing right now,” Wesley said. Glover didn’t hide his disappointment. There was still a lot of pent up energy that needed to be expelled.
“What do you think we should be doing then?” He snapped.
“I think we should talk, like friends,” Wesley said, not rising to the bait. And that pissed off Cyprian even more.
“I didn’t want to leave things like that,” the lieutenant added. “I’m going to be blunt. It might be the last time I see you.”
“Don’t say that,” Glover said.
“I’m not as worried about me, as I am about you,” Wesley said, placing a hand on Glover’s shoulder. “You’ll be on a ship in a few months, out there, in the war, and I’m afraid your need for vengeance is going to get you killed.”
“Worry more about the Klingons,” Cyprian shrugged. “You seem to be good at that.”
Wesley winced. “Now I’m a Klingon-lover?”
“Hey you’re the one that was talking about killing them being a senseless loss.”
“Because it is,” Wesley didn’t hide his frustration. “And the Cyprian I know, the one that’s still deep down inside you, knows that. But you’re just too angry, too hurting to see that right now, and I get it.”
“No,” Cyprian shook his head, pulling away from Wesley. “You don’t. You haven’t lost a brother.”
“You’re right,” Wesley said, “But I’ve lost friends. You remember Gerd?”
“Gerd Stromgren?” Cyprian asked, his expression falling. “She’s dead?”
“Yeah, I found out two weeks ago,” Wesley was somber. “Her ship was lost, with all hands, during the Battle of the Azure Nebula.”
“Another damned defeat,” Cyprian pounded his boxing gloves together.
“We lost the Azure Nebula, but that didn’t mean that Gerd and the rest of Battle Group Theta didn’t give them one hell of a fight, slowing down the Klingon advance, and saving countless lives in the process,” his voice grew quieter, “Just like Hadrian’s sacrifice did.”
Cyprian’s face hardened. “Don’t talk about my brother’s noble ‘sacrifice’. He wasn’t supposed to die. He was an exo-linguist. He wanted to leave the Fleet, teach at the Sato School in Brazil. He had even fallen in love with one of his crewmates. He had his own life ahead of him…and now, just nothing.” Glover covered his face with his gloves. His body shook and Wesley saw the man was struggling not to cry.
“There’s nothing we can do about that now,” Wesley said, as gently as possible. “It’s up to us, the living to carry on for the departed, and to honor their lives. Giving into hatred, becoming bitter, I don’t think that’s what your brother would’ve wanted.”
“Don’t you think I know that?” Glover barked. His head snapped up. His eyes were wet. “But what I am supposed to do? Act like it doesn’t hurt? Pretend this anger doesn’t exist, that the fire doesn’t burn?”
“No,” Wesley said, “You contain it until you can unleash it at your enemies, not your friends.”
“There is blood between me and the Klingons now,” Glover said, “And that debt has to be repaid in it.” Wesley shook his head. Cyprian added, “But I do understand about not allowing it to consume me, or destroy my friendships. And I’ve lost sight of that. I’ve got to do better. If anything, what happened to Hadrian has hammered home to me how important and precious life is.”
He placed a gloved hand on Wesley’s shoulder. “Thanks for being there, for listening to me, for trying to help.”
“Anytime,” Wesley nodded. “And anytime you need to talk, send a message to the Glasgow.”
“I will,” Glover promised. “Do you think you’ve got enough time to play some darts? You might dominate the squared circle, but I’m the king of the dartboard.”
“Sure,” Wesley said, before sniffing, “But I think a shower might be in order first.” Glover raised an arm and took a deep whiff.
“What?” He asked, with mock innocence. Robert laughed.
“See you in the Rec Center,” Wesley said.
“You’re on,” Glover replied.
-Hadrian being an exo-linguist is a tip to Lt. Hoshi Sato. As is the Sato School, and it being placed in Brazil, the country that Hoshi was a university professor in.
-Prado may be a descendant of boxer Manuel Prado, from the TOS episode "City on the Edge of Forever" and DS9's "Past Tense Part II".
|April 21 2015, 09:04 AM||#7|
Re: Star Trek: Four Years War-Class of 2242
I also liked Wesley conversation with his ex. It flowed really well and allows us a great insight into the mind of a young man who will go on to become a great starship commander one day.
|May 25 2015, 03:06 PM||#8|
Re: Star Trek: Four Years War-Class of 2242
Beta Aquilae II
The two young men walked together, both quiet, both struggling to find the words to say. After they entered the transporter room, Robert Wesley turned awkwardly to Cyprian, shifting his large duffel bag across his body and out of the way.
“Next time, I’m going to own that dart board,” he declared.
“Yeah, right,” Glover grinned. “Ain’t gonna happen.”
Robert put a hand forward. Cyprian grasped it. “Thank you,” Wesley said.
“No,” Glover replied, shaking his head, “I should thank you. I was acting like a jerk.”
“Yeah,” Robert chuckled, “You were, but I understand.” Glover tensed, as if he was preparing to argue, then his shoulders slumped and he nodded.
“You weren’t the only one I was a butthole too,” Cyprian said, “I owe some apologies to Prado and Dee.”
“Dalia?” Wesley asked.
“Yeah,” Glover nodded.
“I wish I had gotten to meet her,” Robert replied.
“Sorry about that,” Cyprian was now sheepish.
“It’s okay,” Wesley squeezed his shoulder. “Next time.”
“I like the sound of that,” Glover said, “We could perhaps do a double date, catch a football game.”
“Ginny would like that,” Wesley smiled, “Of course she’s a major Tarheels fan.”
“I guess someone has to be,” Glover ripped him.
“Ouch,” Robert replied.
“Hey, I had to get it in,” Cyprian said, “My cousin Sheldon went to Duke.”
“Ah the dastardly Blue Devils,” Wesley said with mock disapproval.
“That’s right, and family honor is at stake,” Glover laughed.
“I suppose so,” Wesley said. Before he could say more his communicator beeped. He detached it from his belt and flipped it open.
“Mr. Wesley are you ready?” the man was impatient.
Robert grimaced. “Yes sir, Commander Tonga.” He shrugged at Glover before stepping onto the transporter pad.
“The captain is waiting to hear how you did,” the first officer curtly replied.
“Yes sir,” Wesley said. “Acknowledged. Wesley out.” He flipped the communicator shut and nodded at the transporter chief. He shared a knowing look with Cyprian. The other man was just noticing as well how attractive the Caitian transporter officer was. She almost looked human, without or shorn of the fur most Caitians he had encountered had.
The woman sensing their stares, growled low in her throat and her thin tail coiled like a snake ready to strike, and both men looked anywhere, but at her. When they found each other again, they both chuckled, a bit embarrassed.
“Be careful out there Robert,” Cyprian offered.
“Enjoy these last days,” Wesley said. “Out there…it’s not what you are expecting, or wanting.”
“I know what I want,” Glover’s expression hardened. Robert’s smile turned sad.
“And that’s what frightens me,” he said. Before either man could say more, the transporter beam whisked the lieutenant away to the Glasgow.
|May 25 2015, 06:55 PM||#9|
Re: Star Trek: Four Years War-Class of 2242
Beta Aquilae II
Two days later…
As Glover entered the rec room, he realized for the thousandth time how good it felt to have his arm around Dalia’s shoulders again. As if sensing his thoughts, she nestled closer to him. He breathed in the scent of her hair.
“Oh, you two, get a room,” Jahid Azad said. He was leaning over a foosball table, engaged in a furious game with Eneca. Glover’s eyes widened, surprised that his and Dee’s roommates had found each other.
“Small universe syndrome,” Dalia muttered.
“Totally,” Cyprian concurred. The couple made their way over to the foosball table. Glover didn’t want to disentangle, but Dalia slowly pulled away from him.
She went over to Eneca, “How’s it going?” She asked.
“Who’s winning?” Glover asked Jahid.
“I am,” both answered in reply. Cyprian looked at Dalia. The woman smiled and then shrugged.
“Well you better not let me down,” Glover warned, “Or you’re sleeping outside the room tonight.”
“Oh really?” Dalia said, before encouraging Eneca. “Guess who else might be sleeping outside tonight.”
“Ouch,” Jahid said. “She got you there man.”
“Hey, I’m not worried. I’m irresistible,” Glover grinned.
“Believe me, you’re pull isn’t that strong,” Dalia blew him off.
“Both of you gentlemen might be on the outs tonight,” Eneca said, as she sent two bars spinning, knocking the ball toward Azad’s goal. The man quickly countered, just barely keeping her from scoring.
“How many credits are you willing to wager on that?” Glover challenged.
“And you want me to take your credits too?” Dalia laughed. “I’m not that cruel.”
“Well, I’m that confident in my roomie,” Cyprian declared.
“Okay,” Dalia said, “I’m believe in Eneca. And I think I’ll buy a Therbian silk scarf from my winnings.”
“Whoa man, that’s pricey,” Jahid said, looking at Cyprian.
“You better not lose then,” Glover warned.
“Of course, I got this,” Azad turned back to the table. Seconds later, Eneca scored. The two women high-fived. Cyprian smacked his head with the palm of his hand.
Jahid shrugged. “Hey it was just one score. I got this, seriously.”
Glover pressed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed hard, “Time to make this for real Jahid.”
The cadet wiped his forehead. “Don’t worry about me.” Cyprian looked at Dalia. The woman was nonchalant. It lit a fire under Cyprian. With Therbian silk on the line, that was a lot of credits he was putting in the hands of someone else. He wanted to take over for his for his roommate, but he knew that wouldn’t be cool.
So he had to sit back and watch, something he didn’t like to do ordinarily. Jahid did lift his spirits, finally scoring after a furious back and forth with Eneca.
The match was joined and soon other cadets and even a few officers crowded around the table to watch. Cyprian could see the tension starting to get to Jahid, sweat beading across his forehead.
“Just hang in there buddy,” Glover encouraged. “You can beat her.” Azad didn’t reply. He was too focused on the table. The throng began to take sides, heightening the stakes.
“I can’t wait for my scarf,” Dalia beamed as Eneca scored again.
“Geez,” Glover replied. “Get it together man.”
Jahid turned on him, annoyance on his face. “I told you I’ve got this.”
“Okay,” Cyprian put his hands up and took a step back. “Fine.”
“Thank…” Jahid huffed right before the explosion hit.
Beta Aquilae II
Captain G’logh refused to stay aboard his warship. He needed to be among the rumble, to have his eyes seared by the heat, to let his nostrils curl with the delight at the smell of blood and cooked flesh. The captain grinned at the destruction his warships had unleashed on the Academy.
Bodies and limbs were crushed and pinned beneath shattered walls. Blood flowed like water. Fires spread throughout the building. Alarms clashed with the sound of warriors and disruptor fire, and his ears filled with the sweet chunk of bat’leths finding meat.
Though part of him rankled. He understood he had been given a great honor by the High Command. He would kill Starfleet’s future, but still it wasn’t the same as testing himself against their fully formed warriors.
He did force himself however not to immediately issue orders. This was a mangHom qaD after all, and the cadets needed to get their fill of blood. From behind, K’Tyra, daughter of Makgh, and leader of First Cadre stepped forward.
Like him, she wore a proud brow, and her tall, lithe frame belied her strength, which he could attest to from her brief time aboard his ship.
“Cadet K’Tyra!” G’logh bellowed, “Now is the time for First Cadre to test themselves against some of the best the Federation has to offer.”
“Yes Captain,” K’Tyra’s eyes gleamed with anticipation. Seven other young warriors formed around her. G’logh glared at them all. He nodded with approval. First Cadre was the cream of training units.
“Each of you, will now go forth and return as true warriors,” he barked. “If any of you return and you are not covered in the blood of our enemies I will personally run you through with my mek’leth,” he patted the blade clipped to his belt. His gaze fell on K’Tyra and then the burly warrior now preening beside her. “Even those whose father sits on the High Council.”
The young warrior growled and his fingers twitched over his d’k’ tahg. G’logh sneered, daring the younger man. K’Tyra placed a hand on the man’s forearm. The would-be challenger slowly removed his hand.
“You are wise to follow the daughter of Makgh,” G’logh bared his teeth at the woman. She did likewise. “You understand the consequences of failure,” he warned her.
“Yes Captain!” She shouted.
“Then get to it,” he ordered. “Qapla!” He watched her lead the First Cadre into the burning building. He glared around him again, looking at the less elite cadets from the Academy battle their Starfleet counterparts.
He didn’t interfere when some of the Klingons were felled by their opponents, and he ordered the others under his command to not intervene unless they were directly challenged.
This would be the cadets’ challenge and it was theirs to lose or seize victory. Though he was reluctant to return to his ship. He enjoyed the feel of earth beneath his boots, the smell and tang of battle. All that waited for him above was the view of the burning Starfleet ship that had valiantly attempted to stop his strike fleet.
Perhaps he would toast to their sacrifice, and await a response. He had allowed them to send out an emergency buoy and he had waited to cut off the communications from the Academy. He wanted a fight as well.
He called his men to him. They formed a circle around him. He pulled out his communicator. “Jol yIchu’!”
-K'Tyra, daughter of Makgh, is a possible ancestor of K'Tyra Parker from the Star Trek Pytheas series.
-G'logh is a member, and maybe the founder of the House of G'logh, whose members play an important part in the Klingon Academy video game.
-First Cadre comes from the Star Trek Academy comic.
Last edited by DarKush; May 25 2015 at 11:42 PM.
|May 26 2015, 06:39 PM||#10|
Re: Star Trek: Four Years War-Class of 2242
Now it's a battle for survival for the untrained and unseasoned cadets. Their only hope for survival: the majority of their enemies are in training as well. Only the Klingons could come up with this as their version of the Kobayashi Maru.
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