Star Trek Hunter - Episode 2: The Colony of New Hope

[Robert Bruce Scott]

Continued from Episode 1: Flash Forward

Star Trek Hunter
Episode 2: The Colony of New Hope
Scene 1: The Black Uniform

2.1
The Black Uniform​

At age 54, Geordie LaForge had put on middle-age weight. He still easily met Star Fleet fitness requirements and the added weight had improved his effectiveness in a fight - his punches actually meant something these days. But while he did not miss the visor he had once needed - it had been replaced with prosthetic eyes - he did miss the rakish figure he had sported years ago when he had become the youngest chief engineer in the fleet - and on the U.S.S. Enterprise - the Federation’s storied flagship.

Very few people were left on the Enterprise from those days. There were still a few in engineering, including his brilliant, if neurotic chief engineer, Reginald Barclay, whom Geordi had resorted to bribing with a promotion to tear him away from the Daystrom Institute. Barclay had also put on some middle-age weight.

Geordi regarded the man on the other side of his desk with a mixture of suspicion, compassion and envy - this last because 2nd Lt. Kenneth Dolphin, at age 51, was extremely lean. Men that age had no right to be that trim. He didn’t look his age either. The only giveaways were some wrinkling around his eyes and his blonde hair was graying a bit at the temples.


“Take a seat, Mr. Dolphin.” Geordi sighed and looked at his desk. He looked up again at his infamous charge. “I’ll be blunt with you, Lieutenant, it’s been no picnic having you aboard. I mean, you’ve done a fine job and I’ve never met a better pilot - not even Will - but your reputation from your professorship at Harvard seems to catch up with you wherever you go. I won’t pretend to know whether you deserve it. I started reading your dissertation, but honestly, I’d rather read engineering manuals than philosophy. The problem is that Rear Admiral Riker does not like you. He made it clear that as long as you are in Space Command, you will never make first lieutenant.”

2nd Lt. Dolphin did not respond. LaForge looked at him for a moment - the man seemed to be sitting at attention. “I just can’t agree with Will on this one, though. Your performance has been exemplary and you’ve earned your reputation as the best pilot in the fleet. I think I have a way around this - if you are interested.” LaForge watched Dolphin - he could see the man thinking.


After a few heartbeats, Dolphin took a deep breath. “What do you have in mind, sir?” The man had a cultured, New England accent.

“Well, Will Riker has enough juice within Space Command to block your promotion, but it appears Captain Minerva Irons has taken an interest in you. She is offering you the position of Director of Flight Operations on the U.S.S. Hunter, which comes with a promotion to first lieutenant. Captain Irons is not in Space Command - she’s with the Office of Judge Advocate General. You would have to trade your red uniform for the black uniform worn by JAG officers.”

“I sense there is a “but” coming?” Dolphin asked.

Geordie made an amused noise. “You sense correctly.” His face took on a more serious expression. “Minerva Irons isn’t your ordinary Star Fleet captain. She’s part vulcan. She’s been a captain on and off for nearly 80 years. Irons keeps retiring and then something terrible happens, Star Fleet loses a lot of ships and is desparate for experienced captains and she comes back out of retirement. But this time she’s not just a captain. She’s an appellate court justice for the Federation Tribunal - the justice at large…”

Dolphin regarded LaForge carefully. “That’s not the “but” part, is it?”

Geordie smiled. “You caught me out again, Lieutenant. Okay - you did not hear this part from me, but it’s only fair that you should know before you chose to jump ship - so to speak… Minerva Irons has a reputation. Brilliant. Ruthless. Brutal.”

“But the “but” part,” Geordie continued, “is that, as good as she is and as much as she gets accomplished for the Federation, death and destruction follow her around like pet dogs. They send her to do the dirty work that no one else wants to do. She always walks away clean. Nothing sticks to her. But sometimes her crew is not so fortunate. I know your Ph.D. is in ethics. Maybe that’s why she wants you. She’s famous for finding the gray areas when everyone else sees things in black and white.”


2nd Lt. Dolphin rolled his head back and looked at the ceiling. LaForge watched the junior officer’s expression and allowed the silence to grow. After nearly two minutes, Dolphin returned his gaze.

“When do you need an answer, sir?”

“Two hours, Lieutenant. That should be enough time for you to do a little research. But I need to give Captain Irons an answer. She wants you on the Hunter first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Thank you, sir,” Dolphin replied, standing up.

“Dismissed, Lieutenant.”

Dolphin came to attention, then turned to leave.


“Oh, and Kenneth…”

Dolphin paused and turned back.

“Justice Irons likes to be addressed according to her civilian title: “Your honor” is the appropriate way to address her. She is a judge. But when she gives you an order, then you respond with her rank. And she likes eye contact.”

Dolphin paused for just a moment to digest this information - it told him a fair amount about Irons’ character. Quite possibly more than a few hours of research might reveal. “Understood and appreciated. Thank you sir.”

“Two hours, Lieutenant.”

“Aye, Captain.”

2.1 (of 16)​

Author's note: I'm going to take my time posting Episode 2 here and just see how this goes. Hoping to draw a new audience to the Star Trek Hunter trilogy - but it does seem everyone is rather swamped with reading material. Thanks!! rbs​

 

[Robert Bruce Scott]

Star Trek Hunter
Episode 2 - The Colony of New Hope


“...Because that mission was a disgrace and Minerva Irons doesn’t make those kinds of juvenile mistakes… I don’t think the Hunter’s command staff were supposed to make it out of there alive...”

Dr. Kenny Dolphin, Interview on Subspace Radio Ivonovic.

Crew of the U.S.S. Hunter: (Ship's Interactive Holographic Avatar - Hunter)

At-Large Appellate Justice, Captain Minerva Irons.
Chief Executive Officer - Commander David Pepper.
Chief Operations Officer - Lieutenant Commander Mlady.

Medical Director - Lieutenant Commander Tali Shae.

Assistant Medical Director - 2nd Lieutenant Jazz Sam Sinder.

Ensign Chrissiana Trei.

Forensic Specialist - Midshipman Sif.
Forensic Specialist - Midshipman Tolon Reeves.
Emergency Medical Hologram - Dr. Raj.
Tactical Medical Hologram - Dr. Kim.​

Director of Flight Operations - Lieutenant Kenneth Dolphin.

Assistant Flight Director - 2nd Lieutenant Gaia Gamor.

Navigator Johanna Imex.
Navigator Eli Strahl.​

Ensign Ethan Phillips (looks and sounds nothing like the actor).

Chief Flight Specialist Dewayne Guth (last name rhymes with Booth).
Flight Specialist Dih Terri.
Flight Specialist Joey Chin.
Flight Specialist Winnifreid Salazaar.​

Director of Ground Operations - Lieutenant T’Lok Smith.

Assistant Ground Ops Director - 2nd Lieutenant Tauk.

Investigator Lynhart Shran (civilian).
Investigator Buttans Ngumbo (civilian).​

Ensign T’Lon.

Tactical Specialist Jarrong.
Tactical Specialist Belo Rys.
Tactical Specialist Belo Garr.
Tactical Specialist Belo Cantys.​

Director of Engineering - Lieutenant Sarekson Carrera.

Assistant Engineering Director - 2nd Lieutenant Moon Sun Salek.

Midshipman Tammy Brazil.

Transporter Engineer K'rok.​

Ensign Sun Ho Hui.

Flight Engineer Yolanda Thomas.
Flight Engineer Thomas Hobbs.
Flight Engineer Tomos.
Flight Engineer Kerry Gibbon.​

 

[Robert Bruce Scott]

Star Trek Hunter
Episode 2: The Colony of New Hope
Scene 2: Charter Worlds

2.2 (of 16)
Charter Worlds​

Justice Minerva Irons got up from her desk, stretched her neck and reached for her judge’s robe. She set it upon her shoulders, adjusting it so the twin emblems of the United Federation of Planets were evenly displayed on either side above her breast. Her right hand brushed lightly over the long, straight dark hair that cascaded down from the top of her head along her right side, smoothing it and freeing some that had gotten under the black silk robe. Her robe fell much closer to the floor than the hem of her black silk dress. Her long, slender legs were clad in opaque black silk stocking with a subtle pattern.

An elderly Chinese woman, Irons had taken care of herself and did not look her age - her age-defying longevity was a gift from her vulcan grandmother. She could be forgiven some vanity about her looks - beauty was a powerful tool of statecraft and she had used hers to her advantage - and the Federation’s - for well over a century.

She strode toward the door of her office then out onto the bridge of the Hunter at the very moment her first officer uttered the words that would summon her there - “Captain to the Bridge!”

Her gigantic first officer rose from the captain’s chair - the only person she had ever seen make such a chair appear entirely inadequate - as though an adult had barely squeezed into the chair of a toddler.


Commander David Pepper was nearly seven feet tall and well over 400 pounds - all muscle. His dark brown skin had a slight greenish hue inherited from an orion grandmother. Two small greenish antenna mounts at his hairline were the only visible inheritance from his andorian grandfather. The gigantic size and strength came not only from his orion parentage, but also from his human heritage, which included a number of star athletes.

The giant officer waved an enormous hand toward a rather drab looking planet displayed on the viewer. “Welcome to the Colony of New Hope, Min, one of the nineteen founding worlds in the original Federation Charter. The fourth planetary colony established by Earth. Population about 5.5 billion, almost exclusively human. Agricultural products: quatrotriticale, kalecorn and onions. Natural resources: bauxite, cadmium and political extremism. Primary industries: aluminum manufacture, illegal pharmaceutical research and organized crime.”

Irons would never have allowed this kind of informality in any of her previous commands, but the crew of the Hunter was different - hand-picked by her and held to standards higher than any other crew in Star Fleet. This was partly due to Hunter’s unique mission. Patrol class vessels were primarily used to prevent piracy and enforce law within the Federation. But the Hunter, in addition to that also served as a traveling appellate court.

Every officer had to double as a legal assistant, so every officer from ensign up was required to be a licensed attorney. On top of that, to maintain a pool of potential expert witnesses on board, Justice Irons required every officer to attain a doctorate before being promoted to 2nd lieutenant or higher. Like herself, there were a few crew members who had more than one such degree. Commander Pepper’s doctorate was in literature with a specialty in Klingon poetry.


“What are we walking into, David?” Irons asked.

“Almost certainly a trap,” Pep (as everyone but the captain called him) replied. “And they have only authorized you, me and Mlady to go. The courthouse is positioned deep inside the Virtue prison complex. Extraction will be a challenge.”

“Extraction. Of a planetary governor.” Justice Irons tilted her head slightly and expelled her breath with an audible puff.

“As ordered,” Pep observed. He didn’t comment on how inappropriate that order was. That went without saying.

“I’m fairly certain the three of us will be the ones who need extraction, your Honor,” came a smooth, low alto voice from the tactical station behind Pep. If Pep was Star Fleet’s largest first officer, Lieutenant Commander Mlady was easily the smallest second officer. Less than 5 feet tall and less than 100 pounds, Mlady was dark skinned with bushels of dark hair that cascaded from the top of her head to below her knees. She lounged with cat-like grace against the tactical console behind the captains chair. Like Pep, her black SF JAG uniform had red piping, denoting command. Mlady looked like a small and very pretty woman of Indian or perhaps Sri Lankan descent. Only her slightly large, protruding jaw and oddly shaped, black fingernails made it evident she wasn’t entirely human. In fact, she wasn’t human at all.


Lt. Cmdr. Mlady continued. “I authorized Lieutenant Smith to take her department down to provide technical assistance for the local authorities. The Iconoclasts are demonstrating just north of the prison complex. 2nd Lieutenant Tauk is coordinating from the ground operations center up here.”

“That demonstration is no coincidence, and I'm willing to bet those aren't just Iconoclasts down there” Irons said.

"Naturalborn?" Pep asked.

Irons nodded. “Star Fleet Intelligence believes the governor is laying the groundwork for a declaration of martial law.”

Pep finished her thought: “And that would require Star Fleet to support the declaration - starting with the planetary unit down at Prudence Base on the southern edge of the continent. We aren’t certain he hasn’t already made inroads with that unit.”

Irons grimaced slightly, then called for her director of engineering - “Lieutenant Carrera...” The Hunter’s intercom system adjusted to carry her voice down to the Engineering deck.


Dr. Sarekson Carrera, a small, young man with ruddy, dark skin, a bowl haircut and a small bald spot crowning his otherwise thick, black hair, continued some fine adjustment to one of the boat’s systems as he answered, not bothering to look up, “Your Honor?”

“Our new Director of Flight Operations has been delayed. The Enterprise should stop briefly in this system within the next hour to deliver him. Report to the bridge and take the con. When Lieutenant Dolphin arrives, inform him that he is ordered to relieve you and take command.”

Carrera quickly completed his task and turned toward the door. “Aye Captain.”

2.2 (of 16)​

Spoiler: Dr. Carrera goes bald by the end of this story.

 

[Robert Bruce Scott]

Star Trek Hunter
Episode 2: The Colony of New Hope
Scene 3: Pursuit

2.3
Pursuit​

Investigator Buttans Ngumbo was no longer certain whether he was pursuing a suspect or being pursued - probably both. His elderly partner, Investigator Shran, had spotted cardassian disruptor rifles among the protesting Iconoclasts - lots of them. All it took was one rock thrown by an instigator from behind the police line and the entire street went up. Buttans had taken off after the rock thrower - hoping to find out who was so invested in inciting the violence. The rock thrower was fast. Buttans was faster, but he had to keep stopping to re-acquire his target - the instigator was evidently a local who knew the area well.


The neighborhoods around the prison had a bombed-out look not unlike some of the unrecovered parts of Buttans' native Bajor. But that had been the legacy of the Cardassian Occupation. These people had done this damage to themselves. And they were human - the Colony of New Hope, located on a far-flung boundary of the Federation, was one of the earliest human colonies and from its inception had included a large faction of Earth Firsters - a group initially opposed to the close relationship between humans, vulcans and andorians that had served as the foundation for the Federation. Gradually, this movement morphed into the Iconoclasts - not opposed to the Federation, but bitterly opposed to the artistic trappings of Federation offices and, more importantly, Federation imposed limits on the autonomy of homeworld rule. The Naturalborn were the natural outgrowth of the Earth First movement and among the various Naturalborn factions were some rather violent separatists.

Buttans Ngumbo had spent part of his childhood in Africa, home to the cleanest, most modern cities on Earth, or anywhere in the Federation. Human cities were not supposed to be deteriorated and bombed out like this one was.


Buttans turned a corner, following the runner and suddenly realized he had been led into a trap. As his suspect ducked into a building, two others he could barely see opened up with disrupters from behind a rusted metal barricade. Buttans threw himself to the ground and drew his phaser. At almost that moment phaser fire from directly behind him quickly and extremely accurately took out each of the two fighters behind the barricade and picked another from the roof of one of the buildings. Three pin-point shots.


Investigator Lynhart Shran sagged momentarily against the corner of a building, breathing hard and clutching his side. His large antennae were extremely active. “Get up, Ngumbo. I told you not to chase that rat.” Shran suddenly fixed his attention toward the barricade - his antennae turning quickly to follow his gaze - his phaser came up quickly and he let off another shot, knocking down another person behind the barricade.

Buttans scrambled to his feet. Young, tall and lean, he was built like a runner. He was a bit taller than average for a bajoran and far darker - an inheritance from his Maasai ancestors. Buttans and Shran did not wear uniforms - they were civilian investigators attached to Star Fleet. Buttans wore a dark suit with a light blue shirt.

Shran was several decades older than his partner - half human and half andorian - an older man with a bit of a gut, wearing jeans, a gray shirt, a voluminous leathery overcoat and very highly polished shoes. Except for his almost obscenely large antennae, he looked entirely human - the product of a large Jewish American family. Even his antennae were the wrong color for an andorian and somehow seemed to have something of the Bronx about them in the way they matched his head movements and sardonic expressions.

“The girls are pinned down. Get back there and give them a way out - and use your brain this time - don’t get caught in there with them. I think I saw a dampening generator - if they get that up and running we’re in big trouble. See if you can find it and disable it - they’ll put it up high somewhere.” Shran cuffed his young partner lightly on the side of his head as Buttans headed off at a jog back toward the prison.


“Boss,” Shran said, his antennae pointing upward as he turned about, scanning the area. The communicator implanted in Shran’s chest discerned which boss Shran was addressing (he had a tendency to refer to all officers as “Boss”) and directed his voice up to the ground operations center on the Hunter, in orbit.

Lieutenant Tauk was alone in the cramped ground operations center. A tiny, young and very pale ferengi, he seemed perfectly fitted to the scale of the room. “Go ahead, Shran.” Tauk’s voice seemed almost that of an adolescent.

“We need air support down here, boss,” came Shran’s gravelly voice. “I had to step outside the jamming zone just to get through. T’Lok and the tactical team are pinned down about a klick north of the prison. Tell the pilots to look out for dampening fields. If they can jam our communicators, they might be able to jam out everything. I’m headed back in to provide support.”

“You’ll have it. Anything else?” Tauk was already headed toward the door at the front of the ground operations center.

“They were expecting us, boss. It’s going to take brute force to rescue the command staff. Better bring the wagon.”

“Copy that,” Tauk responded as he exited the room, headed for the bridge.

2.3 (of 16)​

The U.S.S. Hunter is a prototype ship and a demonstration project driven by Justice Irons, serving as a traveling circuit court, crime lab and tactical police response unit. As such (and also due to her considerable political clout), Irons got to cherry-pick both ship and crew.

The inclusion of civilian investigators (instead of Star Fleet) is one of her many innovations. Star Fleet Academy and even the SF Officer Candidate School and SF Basic Training leave "Star Fleet" stamped all over an undercover agent in ways that far too many people can read. Civilian investigators can go unrecognized in places where Star Fleet can't.

 

[Gibraltar]

A great setup here, with some major canonical differences from the Starfleet most of us know (and which I'm enjoying thoroughly).

Starfleet's JAG-corps strike me as something akin to the Street Judges of Judge Dredd, decisive, hard-nosed, and not to be trifled with.

 

[Robert Bruce Scott]

A great setup here... (and which I'm enjoying thoroughly).
Starfleet's JAG-corps strike me as something akin to the Street Judges of Judge Dredd...

There's definitely a little Dredd in Justice Irons...

I very much appreciate the vote of confidence. I wince a little reading these first half-dozen scenes as I was getting both my writing legs and the story legs. I've tinkered with them quite a bit, but the first 5 or so still feel a little clunky to me.

Thanks!! rbs

 

[Robert Bruce Scott]

Star Trek Hunter
Episode 2: The Colony of New Hope
Scene 4: The Courthouse

2.4
The Courthouse​

The courthouse was one of the oldest buildings in Virtue and a complex of prisons had gradually been built up around it. Justice Minerva Irons set down the gavel and block that were kept in this room on the desk and looked out through the barred windows of the judges chamber - a small office inside the courthouse used for private hearings - onto a courtyard long fallen into disrepair and gray, crumbling concrete buildings that served as prisons. These could be observed by looking out of any window in the courthouse. It seemed inevitable that what had once been a center for overweening, puritanical justice would become a seething cauldron of corruption.

Justice Irons opened the door from the judges chamber into the main courtroom and stepped up to the bench. About thirty men in drab civilian clothing were seated inside. They were neither witnesses nor an audience - they looked and behaved far more like a private army. Two security guards, their drab gray uniforms devoid of any emblems or badges, stood watch on either side of the judicial platform. Irons had little doubt the guards were corrupt.

Irons’ tiny second officer sat alone at the prosecutor’s table. Apparently The Colony of New Hope was unable to provide a prosecutor to pursue any of the local charges. The planetary governor, dressed in a simple, unadorned, but exceptionally well made dark suit, along with two other men in dark suits, sat at the defendant’s table. The Hunter’s gigantic first officer was nowhere to be seen - and there was nowhere in this room anything that large could possibly be concealed.

Because one of the charges against the governor involved the Federation Charter, Justice Irons’ first officer was required to assist the defense team and her second officer was assigned to assist with prosecution as officers of the Federation Tribunal.


Irons did not sit down. “Will the counsel for the people approach.” It was a command, not a question.

Lieutenant Commander Mlady - the only person in the room wearing a Star Fleet uniform - the black JAG uniform with red piping - stepped up to the dais. Irons spoke very, very quietly. “I smell explosives - possibly the chair.”

Mlady’s nostrils flared. She responded just as quietly, “Pelletized nitrocellulose. Small amount.”

“There are no objective observers in this room. Can you handle this many men in a fight?”

Mlady hesitated just for a second: “Yes, but without my phasers, it would be a bloody mess.”

“Get out of here if you can. Find David.” Irons’ gaze strayed briefly to the men seated in the hard benches that served as an audience for this courtroom. “Seats C-1 and E-4 - those men have weapons,” Irons said quietly. She straightened and then spoke loudly enough to be heard by everyone: “Counsel may step back,” She turned toward the defense table. “Where is the special counsel for the defense?”

“Your honor, if I may,” the planetary governor began…

“You may not,” Irons snapped. “I want to hear from your counsel. Where is the special counsel?”

One of the dark-suited men seated next to the governor stood up. “Your Honor, he has been dismissed. Our client does not trust him.”

“Answer my question, counselor,” Her icy fury was like a whip. Even in a room full of enemies, it had a powerful effect, sending a chill around the room.

“He is in one of the offices down the hall.” The lawyer waived vaguely toward the door of the courtroom.

“Produce him,” Justice Irons said frostily, then, without touching the gavel, block, desk or chair that had been set out for her, walked back toward the door to the judges chamber. The two guards moved quickly to follow her. “Court is in recess until then,” she said and quickly entered the judges chamber. The two guards barged in after her as she was trying to close the door. Chaos erupted in the courtroom as all the men in the room leapt to their feet.


Rather than try in vain to fight the two guards off along with probably a half-dozen thugs behind them, Irons stepped quickly to the side of the door, set her stance firmly, grabbed the jacket of the second guard and pulled him into the man in front of him, bringing them both stumbling into the room. It was a classic Tai Chi technique - she was using her attackers’ energy against them. While the two guards were regaining their balance, she quickly closed and locked the door.

The first guard to regain his footing turned and charged toward her. With flowing, unhurried movements born of more than a century of training, Irons readied her stance, grabbed her attacker’s jacket again and, using the same Tai Chi technique she had used seconds before, redirected his momentum to send him crashing into a stone wall. His forehead smacked against the wall and he fell to his knees, stunned, as the second man charged toward her.

Irons dodged around the desk, putting it between herself and her second attacker. She grabbed the gavel and block from the desk and sent the block spinning toward his head. The prison guard ducked this missile as Irons shrugged her way out of her judge’s robe and sent it spinning toward him. Her attacker pushed the garment away, his hands tangling briefly in it. This gave Irons the opening she needed to deliver a powerful, backhanded blow to his temple with the gavel.


CRACK!!


Justice Irons winced in pain and drew a sharp breath. The look of rage on her attacker’s face was replaced by a look of utter confusion as his eyes slowly crossed and he crumpled to the floor.

The other man, the first who had attacked her, had clearly suffered from his encounter with the wall and was leaning heavily against it, his forehead against the wall, trying to regain his footing, his head wobbling - quite possibly from a concussion. Irons transferred the gavel to her left hand, moved up quickly behind him and delivered a powerful blow to the back of his head. His forehead smacked the wall again and he slid down the wall to the floor, unconscious.

Irons set the gavel down, then hissed as she touched her right wrist. “Yeah, that’s broken.”

There was a heavy thud against the other side of the door that led into the courtroom - not someone trying to get in, but someone sagging heavily against the other side. Now that her own fight was over, Justice Irons could hear the sounds of fighting from the courtroom had also ebbed. She had left her tiny second officer alone in a room with about thirty angry men.


They had no idea what they were up against.


A low, snarling growl came from the other room, along with various groans. Mlady was probably feeding - the growl was a warning to whomever might be watching her that she did not like being watched while she was feeding. If any of the men in that room could still stand, they would be well advised to leave before she attacked again. Compassion was an emotion Mlady said she admired in humans, but claimed to never have actually experienced herself. When the need arose, she would kill without pity or hesitation.

Justice Irons picked her robe up from the floor and donned it with some difficulty, then wrapped part of it around her right arm, creating a makeshift sling. She secured each of the unconscious prison guards with their own manacles, then opened the door that led into the courtroom. A dead man, who had been propped up against the other side of the door where he had fallen, slumped partly into the chamber. She stepped over his body and spotted Mlady seated on the floor behind another dying man, her fangs embedded in his neck, her black Star Fleet JAG uniform slick with blood. Irons surveyed the room - Mlady’s prediction had been accurate - a bloodbath. Blood was spattered on the walls and pooling on the floor. At least eighteen men lay dead or dying. The governor was not among them.

“It’s over, Lieutenant Commander. We need to find David.” Irons deliberately avoided looking at her minuscule operations officer. At this point she could not do much but wait for Mlady to calm down. Irons sat in the back of the room, cradled her broken wrist and waited for her 2nd officer to regain her composure. Mlady had been a vicious predator far, far longer than she had been intelligent or self-aware.

2.4 (of 16)​

 

[Gibraltar]

Holy Hell! This court is most definitely in session!

The locals undoubtedly thought they had the drop on the old lady judge and her small crew. Unfortunately for them, they failed to realize that this sort of 'cowboy justice' is precisely what Hunter's crew do for a living.

As a character of mine is fond of saying, "It's always amusing when the prey thinks it's the predator."

Can't wait for the next installment!

 

[Robert Bruce Scott]

Holy Hell! This court is most definitely in session!
Can't wait for the next installment!

Glad you're getting a kick out of this weird story! Fair warning - people and situations are rarely what they at first seem...
I'm trying to avoid posting too much here at any one time, given the avalanche of new material on this forum. I am taking this opportunity to give this material a final comb through (and STILL finding typos and awkward passages!)

A quick note: For STH, I'm imagining a much needed update to the Star Fleet uniform, which would now consist of a pullover, (colored for Space Command, black for JAG) under sensible jacket and matching slacks (dark gray for Space Command, black for JAG). The fabric of the jacket and slacks provides some minimal protection from energy weapons and blades. Not much - like a thin layer of kevlar. It's also designed to provide a high degree of protection from harsh environments and temperature extremes.

The communicator badge (platinum for SC, black for JAG) is integrated into the fabric of both the jacket and shirt and is voice activated. It also continually monitors biometrics and when the wearer is in danger, will trigger safety protocols that will beam the wearer to sick bay. No more taking off your communicator to prevent the ship from locating you. Even taking off your jacket doesn't work as there is an identical combadge integrated into your shirt. Older officers might still touch the badge to activate it out of habit, but it's not needed. The combadge is smart enough to figure out when you want to use it and whom you're trying to reach with it. (We're probably less than a decade away from Apple marketing such a device.)

Thanks!! rbs

 

[Robert Bruce Scott]

Star Trek Hunter
Episode 2: The Colony of New Hope
Scene 5: Pinned Down

2.5
Pinned Down​

Lieutenant T’Lok Smith was pinned down along with the majority of her staff, taking disrupter fire. They had hunkered under a pair of overturned armored ground vehicles in the middle of a bombed out neighborhood of crumbling and damaged low-rise buildings. Ensign T’Lon’s team - four well trained young tactical specialists - all blended cardassian and bajoran - had grown up on the streets of a cardassian colony - unwanted by cardassians and bajorans alike. They were scrawny, tough and fiercely loyal to one another. Even clad in Star Fleet JAG uniforms with additional body armor and helmets, they still looked like street kids. Ensign T’Lon had easily been able to mold them into a formidable fighting unit.

It was a good thing - the assignment to help the Virtue City Police to control the cultural demonstration had failed. The protesters turned out to be armed to the teeth with cardassian disrupters and within minutes the police were either mowed down or had fled.

The street was littered with bodies - phasers and cardassian disrupter rifles lay where they had been dropped. Working as a team, Ensign T’Lon and her tactical squad had quickly driven the Iconoclasts from the street, but more than a dozen people in hardened positions in nearby buildings were still firing disrupters at the Hunter’s ground operations team. When they had tried to contact the Hunter for beamout, it became evident their signals were being jammed.


“I don’t get it,” said Belo Rys, the oldest of the tactical squad members. “I thought the Iconoclasts were a peaceful movement.”

Jarrong, whose features tended more toward cardassian than her three half-bajoran cousins, responded, “They were, until the Naturalborn and some related separatist movements started marching under the Iconoclast banner… That is, if the Iconoclasts had a banner…” She completed her thought with a few phaser shots toward one of the hardened emplacements, only to observe the person who was firing at her get hit from a shot from behind him.

Ensign T’Lon also saw the shot. She turned to her commanding officer, “That was a Star Fleet standard issue phaser - I think it's Buttans.”


T’Lok and T’Lon, while similar in looks, could not have been more different in personality. Ensign T’Lon was all vulcan. Lt. T’Lok Smith was half human. Both were slender, dark-skinned young women with long, straight auburn hair and strongly vulcan features, but Lt. Smith’s expressive face displayed a wide range of emotions that her fully vulcan ensign effortlessly suppressed.

T’Lok looked out briefly, braving a hail of disrupter fire. “It is Buttans. How could you tell by the sound?”

T’Lon responded evenly, “Duration. Investigator Shran barely allows his weapon to engage. Investigator Buttans’ discharges are somewhat longer.”

A stutter of staccato phaser blasts brought the hail of disrupter fire to a sudden halt. They heard Shran’s gravelly voice yelling, “Buttans, up!” then within a few seconds the old investigator joined the team under the vehicles. It took a moment for him to catch his breath.

“Need to get out of here while we..” Shran’s voice was cut off by hundreds of small explosions and the rattling of small objects on the vehicles the team was sheltering under. Shran and two of the half-bajoran members of T’Lon’s tactical squad attempted to return fire, but none of their phasers were working.

“Projectile weapons?” T’Lok seemed incredulous.

“Dampening field!” Shran was breathing hard and his voice was more gravelly than usual. “I thought I saw a damp generator being moved. Has to be nearby. We need some of those projectile weapons.”

“Where would that generator be?” Ensign T’Lon scanned what little of the area she could see from their shelter.

Shran holstered his now useless phaser, then reached under the back of his large leathery overcoat and produced a very large handgun - nothing like Star Fleet issue. “Service revolver from my days in the Andorian Imperial Guard,” he said in response to several quizzical looks. “That generator’s probably on a roof - my bet would be the highest one so they could project emitters upward to catch any low-flying support vessels.”

Ensign T’Lon gestured toward a nearby building. “T’Lok, if Investigator Shran can cover me, I can get up in there and try to locate that generator.”

Shran looked at T’Lon’s team, who had shifted their stances - ready to support her. He shook his head at them and gestured to his revolver, “Eighteen rounds. I can only cover one runner.”

T’Lok did not hesitate. “Go!”


T’Lon waited for a break in the projectile fire, then sprinted from the shelter toward the nearest building. Shran stood up and fired his revolver, each shot deafening. The recoil from the weapon required him to use both hands to steady it. Each round exploded on impact, showering his targets with shrapnel. The firepower from the antique weapon was impressive. He ducked back down as T’Lon disappeared into the building.

“Boss,” Shran was addressing T’Lok, “we gotta get outta here. They have a dampener, I bet they have artillery.”

“How are you going to cover all of us?”

“I won’t be the only one.. Your ensign picked up a band rifle in there.” Shran cast an eye toward the second floor of the building T’Lon had run into.


Almost on cue, T’Lon appeared at one of the 2nd story windows with a cardassian band rifle - a projectile weapon similar to a machine gun. She opened up on the positions that were firing at the overturned vehicles.

“On me!” T’Lok commanded, running toward T’Lon’s position. Shran stood up and fired his revolver again, sending people scrambling away from their positions with each hit. He was the last to join the lieutenant and her team inside the building. T’Lok and most of the team were already climbing a central staircase. Belo Cantys, the youngest member of T’Lon’s tactical squad, was waiting for Shran, covering his entrance with another scavenged band rifle.

Shran heard a familiar low, percussive ringing sound (“foop!!”) and something clattered into the room behind him. He leapt at Cantys, pressing her into a corner and ducking his head, covering them both with his overcoat as an explosion rocked the room.

Shran stepped back and flapped the coat, sending a number of small, sharp objects rattling to the floor. “Armored,” he said in response to a quizzical look from Cantys. “After you.” He gestured toward the stairs.

2.5 (of 16)​

Author's Note: Lt. T'Lok Smith and Ensign T'Lon are childhood friends who grew up in Hawaii.

The Belo siblings (Rys, Garr and Cantys) along with their cousin, Jarrong, joined Star Fleet under the condition that they would be assigned together as a family unit. Rys, Garr and Cantys have the same bajoran mother, a slave, but different fathers, all cardassian. Jarrong's grandmother was the older sister of the Belo siblings' mother. Both slaves died after the end of the Bajoran Occupation.

 

[Robert Bruce Scott]

Star Trek Hunter
Episode 2: The Colony of New Hope
Scene 6: Kenneth Dolphin Commanding

2.6
Kenneth Dolphin Commanding​

Lt. Sarekson Carrera was exiting the bridge when 2nd Lt. Tauk arrived. Aside from the bowl haircut, the only sign of Dr. Carrera’s vulcan great grandfather was the young chief engineer’s emotionless demeanor. It wasn’t working perfectly at the moment - his expression was frosty and he was walking a bit too carefully - as if to avoid storming off the bridge.

Tauk wondered what had rattled Carrera. When he stepped onto the bridge and saw who was in command, it became apparent. The little ferengi almost squeaked - Justice Irons was legendary within Star Fleet circles, but Tauk had never seen an actual celebrity before. “Dr. Kenny Dolphin? The Morality of Hybridizing Intelligent Species?”

Lt. Dolphin was tall, lean, blonde, and arrogantly handsome. Slight wrinkles around the eyes and grey at his temples were the only indication that he was middle-aged. Like Tauk, Lt. Dolphin’s black JAG uniform had gold piping, signifying operations. And Dolphin had two solid pips on his collar - a first lieutenant. He was standing with his hand on the back of the captain's chair.

“That’s Lieutenant Dolphin to you, and I’m not signing autographs today, Lieutenant. Report.” Dolphin’s demeanor was calm and warm - a bit of a smile.

Tauk was briefly confused, then remembered why he had come to the bridge. “The tactical team is pinned down and we’ve lost contact with the command staff. One of my investigators got through and called for air support.”

Dolphin quickly sat down in the captain’s chair, then turned his attention to the pilot’s station. “Staff Tactical. Gamor, take Salazaar. Get Phillips up here to take your seat.” 2nd Lt. Gaia Gamor stood up from her station and called for Phillips and Salazaar as Lt. Dolphin continued giving orders: “Flight Specialists Joey Chin and Dih Terri,” Dolphin didn’t wait for the communications system to carry his voice to the interceptor bays - it would relay the entire message to them with less than a second’s delay. “Strap in and launch your interceptors when ready. Ensign Sun, you’re in command of the wagon - I need your expertise on the transporter. Chief Flight Specialist Dewayne Guth - you’re flying the wagon. Don’t wait for orders - launch as soon as you’re both on board and grab some atmosphere. Gamor…” 2nd Lt. Gamor had already left the bridge and Ensign Ethan Phillips, a half-vulcan flight operations officer, had arrived and was taking the pilot’s station on the bridge.

“The tactical unit is ready to launch,” came Gamor’s voice from the Hunter’s tactical bridge.

“Launch already!” Dolphin’s voice was calm, but urgent. He had been on board less than fifteen minutes, but he seemed completely at home in the captain’s chair and had clearly memorized the Hunter’s crew roster. “Lieutenant Tauk,” Dolphin swiveled the captain’s chair so he was facing the young ferengi who was still standing at the back of the bridge. “Take the bridge tactical station, transfer your operation screens up here and coordinate air support.”

“Sir?” Tauk was taken aback - he had never been given this much responsibility, aside from training exercises. He had been expecting that Lt. Dolphin would coordinate this operation.

Dolphin turned to look at him again. “You know the area and the situation. You’ve been trained for this, Lieutenant. You’re the best chance our people have. Tell the flight team what to expect and where to train their fire.” He turned his attention back to the viewer.


The Hunter’s two interceptors (nimble 2-seat vessels with light armaments designed for ground support, in-atmosphere combat and limited open space interception) were already entering the atmosphere. The wagon (a heavily armed and armored shuttle) and the Hunter’s Tactical Unit (an independently warp-capable section of the U.S.S. Hunter that was bristling with heavy weapons and shield emitters) were close behind.


Tauk was at a loss for words, then remembered something important. He opened a channel to the support vessels: “All units, this is Lieutenant Tauk. I have been ordered to coordinate air support. Don’t get too close to the ground until the ground operations team makes contact. We suspect there’s at least one dampening generator down there, probably more. Try to locate those and take them out. See if you can hone in on the jamming emitters too. We need communication with our ground crew down there before you can provide close air support. Pinpoint firing, minimal power. Our people might be trying to shut those things down when you find them, so use just enough power to turn them off. Let’s not have any friendly fire incidents.”

Dolphin smiled without turning. Star Fleet was his third career and he had only been promoted to 1st lieutenant a few hours ago. But there was no need to let the junior officers know that. This was a perfect opportunity to grow the young 2nd lieutenant in his career. The ferengi wouldn’t be here with one solid pip and one hollow pip on his collar if he wasn’t trained and ready for this.


Tauk spoke up again, “Star Fleet planetary is hailing us, sir.”

Dolphin leaned forward in the command chair. “On screen.”

A bearded, middle aged, and clearly irritated Star Fleet lieutenant in a red uniform appeared on the viewer. Dolphin greeted him: “U.S.S. Hunter, Kenneth Dolphin commanding. How can I help you, Lieutenant?”

“Lieutenant Allen Mitchell, commanding New Hope Colony Planetary Operations,” the irritated officer replied. “I have fire fights in my streets and your flotilla in my sky. I’m going to have to ask you to turn those birds around.”

“This is a law enforcement operation, Lieutenant.” Dolphin responded amiably, “Keep your birds on the deck and your satellites dark. I will let you know if we need your support.”

“You don’t outrank me, Lieutenant Dolphin, you have no authority to issue those orders,” Mitchell snapped, jabbing a finger at the two solid pips on his own collar.

“Star Fleet Charter, Mr. Mitchell,” Dolphin replied, his demeanor swiftly changing from warmly collegial to coldly matter-of-fact. “All law enforcement and planetary security operations within Federation boundaries shall be conducted by, and coordinated through the Office of the Judge Advocate General. I’m wearing the black uniform. Stand down, Lieutenant. That is an order. Hunter out.” Dolphin made a cutting gesture and Tauk cut the circuit - the image of the irritated director of New Hope Colony planetary operations was replaced with a view of the planet.

“Hunter…“ Dolphin looked around the bridge. The vessel’s interactive avatar, in the image of an older man in civilian clothing with a white lab coat, a gray beard and a pot belly, appeared to the right of the command chair, just behind the navigator’s station.

“Lieutenant Dolphin,” the avatar responded evenly.

Dolphin turned toward the hologram. “Please keep an eye on the satellites and on the interceptor hangar bay doors on New Hope. If one of those satellites so much as makes an orbital adjustment, I want it on the viewer. Same thing if we get a hangar door opening.”

“The hangar doors are closed, but several of the satellites are scanning us,” Hunter replied.

“That’s fine. They can look. But if a targeting scanner or a weapons system lights up, I want Tauk to take it out,” Dolphin relaxed back into the captain’s chair.

“Sir?” Tauk was incredulous.

“Commander Pepper sent me the mission specs, Lieutenant. We don’t know the loyalties of the local planetary unit. If those hangar doors open, I want a phaser, broad beam, low power on that door. Not enough to destroy an interceptor, but enough that they won’t want to fly one through it. As for the satellites, they’re antiques. I don’t mind blowing up junk if it appears to be.. uhmm,” Dolphin swiveled to favor the young 2nd lieutenant with a smile, “malfunctioning.” Dolphin turned back to the viewer. “Mind your operation, Lieutenant.”

2.6 (of 16)​

Author's note: Lt. Kenneth Dolphin is widely despised for his dissertation, The Morality of Hybridizing Intelligent Species, which is commonly considered a criticism of the explosive growth of cross-species marriages and resulting hybrids. He failed at a legal career and his academic career ended in scandal. His late entry into Star Fleet via Officer Candidate School causes a number of career officers (like Riker) to consider him a wash-up.

 

[Robert Bruce Scott]

Star Trek Hunter
Episode 2: The Colony of New Hope
Scene 7: Pepper Revival

2.7
Pepper Revival​

Every part of Commander David Pepper’s enormous body ached. He sat up and groaned. Even the largest man could be brought down by a phaser on stun and Pep had been stunned by several phasers. Repeatedly. Pep’s head was pounding and his body was covered with deep bruises. Evidently these people had kept stunning him well after he had lost consciousness and left him here for dead. He got to his feet, rolled his head, stretched and tried to shake the beating off. It would have killed any other man he had met - even a klingon would have been unlikely to survive such a beating.

There were three other men lying on the floor - also victims of being repeatedly stunned by prison phasers. Pep had agreed to meet with local prosecutors and Governor Ivonovic’s defense team to work out a few deals on the local charges. Pep had awakened in tremendous pain. The Virtue City Prosecutors had not been so fortunate.


This room had a single door. Pep tried it. It was locked. But it really wasn’t much of a door - medium-grade plastic. Pep set his ear to it. Nothing. He kicked the door and shattered it. He pushed through what was left of the door into a hallway. Windows along one wall - doors along the other. Pep recognized this hallway from the schematics of the building. On the other side of those doors were rooms like the one he had awakened in. The hallway that led to the courtroom was on the other side of those rooms - but none of them had doors that opened into that hallway. And there was no quick way to get back to that other hallway.

Pep walked from room to room, opening doors, looking for a passageway into the other hallway. Stone walls. Old stone walls with crumbling masonry. On the other side of that wall he could hear a distant noise - men screaming and possibly running.

Pep selected a room that appeared to have a much weakened wall on the other side. He crossed the room at a dead run, not slowing as he crashed into the wall. The wall exploded outward into the hall on the other side - creating a hole big enough for Pep to crush through - sending still more stone and crumbling masonry into the hall. The far end of the hall was full of activity - men spilling out of a room. The planetary governor, flanked by his lawyers, was running toward Pep. They were much closer to him than they were to the rest of the chaos in the hall. They came to a stop as soon as they realized there was no getting around the giant filling the hall.


Pep launched toward them into a full run. The governor’s lawyers were both clearly not trained body guards. They scrambled all over each other and their client trying to get away from the giant officer hurtling toward them, making the governor’s escape impossible in the process. Pep crashed into all three of them, landing on top of them. He stood up, lifting the governor and expertly turning him until he had the governor pinned against a wall, holding the man’s wrists behind his back with one enormous hand. He turned to glare at the lawyers: “GET!”

The two men in dark suits lost no time - but they weren’t running back toward the courtroom. Both squeezed past Pep, then raced away. Evidently they were even more afraid of whatever it was that the other men at the end of the hall were fleeing from in that courtroom. Pep had no doubt what that was.

Pep propelled the governor into the hole he had made in the wall and followed him through. “Sit!” There wasn’t a chair, but there was a table. Pep lifted the governor and deposited him on the table. “It appears you have lost your representation, governor… At this moment, I am probably the best friend you have. So don’t piss me off.” Pep leaned against the wall between the desk and the door, recovering his strength, waiting for the commotion in the hall to settle down.


Planetary Governor Emory Ivonovic was a fairly big man himself, but even though he was in good shape, he was too old to try to fight the abomination that had captured him. He had seen this giant being repeatedly hammered with prolonged phaser fire - set on stun because that was the only setting available on prison phasers. It should have killed the giant. He certainly shouldn’t have been able to recover enough in less than an hour to barge through a stone wall.

The governor could not keep the disgust from his face. Normally he was fairly adept at hiding his emotions - a critical skill for a politician - but not after a disaster like today. He was still hopeful for a rescue - this was his home base. Multiple dampening fields would prevent Star Fleet from beaming him out from anywhere other than the secure transporter pad and there were enough armed guards in that part of the facility to stop even this giant and whatever that little beast was that had just turned the courtroom into a meat grinder.


Suddenly everything turned a hissing pinkish orange. Ivonovic felt sick - like he needed to throw up. “I think I’m having a stroke,” he moaned and bent over.

Pep’s voice was level, but it was clear he was also in pain. “Phaser - wide beam - very low energy…” he managed. The grim, hissing light finally swept on.


“What was that about?” Ivonovic was genuinely curious.

“Counter-insurgency tactics,” Pep responded. He rolled his head, and stretched his arms - vague popping noises from enormous joints. “You’re running dampening fields. We use a broad, low power beam and look for dark spots to tell us where the dampening emitters are. Now we’ll be feeding a focused low energy beam directly into those emitters. The emitters will soak that energy up until the generators explode. Most generators make a lot of noise when you feed them too much juice - which should give anyone nearby a chance to get away before they blow.”

“How about you hand me that phaser,” Pep added, an enormous hand open just in front of the governor. Ivonovic thought briefly about how futile any attempt to use a prison phaser against this giant would be. He removed the phaser from his coat pocket and dropped it into Pep’s hand. The commander deposited the prison weapon in a cargo pocket on the right side of his uniform.

“Good move.” Pep was starting to sound a little more like his usual cheerful self. “Okay - now - it sounds like things have settled down. Back through the wall.”

Ivonovic could not see any reason to not comply, but as soon as Pep followed him through the large hole the giant had punched through the wall, he turned the governor back toward the courtroom.

“I am NOT going back into that room! Not as long as that… thing is in there,” the governor said.

“That thing is Lieutenant Commander Mlady - she’s the sweetest person you will ever meet. Until you back her into a corner.” Ivonovic looked incredulously at the commander. “Or if she gets really hungry…” Pep continued.

The governor’s eyes widened.

Pep landed an enormous hand on the governor’s shoulder, turning him firmly toward the courtroom again and gestured with his other hand.

2.7 (of 16)​

Commander David Pepper is 7'0" and over 350 pounds. The same size as Shaquille O'Neil. He is widely admired throughout the Klingon Empire for his scholarship - cataloguing, translating and preserving the work of the great klingon poets.

 

[Gibraltar]

Review:
Episode 2: The Colony of New Hope
Scene 5: Pinned Down

Some brutal close-quarters combat with some outstanding young soldiers recruited to Starfleet's cause (or maybe just the JAG's). They certainly seem to know what they're doing, but they're quite outnumbered at the moment.

 

[Robert Bruce Scott]

... some outstanding young soldiers recruited to Starfleet's cause (or maybe just the JAG's)...

Thanks for the review! There are so many untold back stories. The 4 bajoran/cardassian hybrids were rescued from a particularly hellish cardassian outpost after the Dominion War by a rescue project headed up by a Vedic, but finding a place on Bajor for the hundreds of "slave-babies" (a bajoran slur for such children) is not easy... There is an involved back story about how these 4 ended up on the Hunter. Irons used her political clout to deliberately crew her ship with hybrids, refugees and misfits - making her as much matriarch as captain.

Thanks!! rbs

 

[Robert Bruce Scott]

Star Trek Hunter
Episode 2: The Colony of New Hope
Scene 8: The Dampening Generator

2.8
The Dampening Generator​

Investigator Buttans Ngumbo had made it up five flights of stairs past fighters who had been stunned either by his own phaser or by Investigator Shran’s incredibly accurate fire from the ground. Buttans’ dark skin and dark suit were damp with sweat. This was the tallest building in the area - chances were the dampening field generator Shran had seen earlier was on this roof.

Halfway up the sixth flight, Buttans suddenly found himself faced by a very surprised looking man at the top of the stairs. Buttans raised his phaser and pressed the trigger just as the man aimed a cardassian disrupter at him. Neither weapon worked.

The man at the top of the stairs hurled the useless disrupter at the young investigator and fumbled around his back for another weapon. Buttans trusted his speed - he charged up the stairs, grappled with the man, taking him off balance and sent him tumbling down the stairs - into another man who had gotten behind Buttans and was also fumbling for a rifle that was slung on his back.


Investigator Buttans burst through a door onto the roof, his useless phaser still in hand. Two men were on the roof, but they were not expecting an enemy. One was adjusting the settings on a large generator, aiming dampening field emitters. The other was firing a cardassian band rifle down toward the street below.

As Buttans raced across the roof, the man with the rifle suddenly exploded - Buttans recognized the effect of Shran’s service revolver - he had seen those explosive rounds in action before. The other man was both terrified and distracted by his comrade’s explosive demise - he was completely unaware of the young investigator’s presence. Buttans tackled him and shoved him off the roof.

Buttans spotted a cardassian band rifle leaning against the generator. He retrieved the rifle in time to use it to mow down the two men whom he had encountered in the stairwell - now emerging onto the roof in pursuit. For the moment unchallenged, Buttans briefly studied the dampening generator. This machine was too sturdy to be damaged by bullets. Fortunately, the investigator could read cardassian standard script and he managed to shut the device off.


He took a few steps back.


Bullets from a band rifle couldn’t damage this dampening generator - but with the dampening field shut down, Buttans’ phaser at full power was more than sufficient to permanently disable the device.

With a grim sense of satisfaction, Buttans stepped around the smoking remains of the dampening generator. “Old man - can you hear me?” The communicator embedded in his chest could now work and keyed its signal to reach out to Lynhart Shran - but the signal was still jammed. There must be a separate jamming device - and that was likely located closer to ground level.

Buttans took a deep breath, stepped over the bullet-ridden bodies of the men he had encountered on the stairs, whom he had shot moments ago. He headed back down the stairs, phaser in one hand and cardassian band rifle in the other.

2.8 (of 16)​

Buttans and Shran are civilian investigators. Before contracting to provide services on the U.S.S. Hunter, their agency was located on Bajor and largely engaged in reuniting families displaced by the Cardassian Occupation and later the Dominion War - which often brought them into conflict with cardassians.

 

[Robert Bruce Scott]

Star Trek Hunter
Episode 2: The Colony of New Hope
Scene 9: Fly By

2.9
Fly By​

Chief Flight Specialist Dewayne Guth kept the wagon - a heavily armed and armored shuttle - well above the range of any portable dampening generator. He had remained at a fairly high altitude, but he was swiftly tiring of playing it safe. The heavy armor on the shuttle was designed to protect its power systems against many forms of attack, including energy dampening fields. It would take a very powerful system to create a dampening field strong enough to affect the wagon.

Guth could tell that a dampening field was in place because he was receiving no life form readings from the area where the Hunter’s ground operations team were last reported to be. No life signs alive or dead. He tapped the life sensor readout in irritation and almost as if in response, the device came alive, displaying a large number of people down there - along with now active phasers and disruptors. From this altitude the sensors could not distinguish humans from bajorans, but they could easily identify four cardassians, one andorian and two vulcans all in one building and surrounded. Guth looked over at Ensign Sun Ho Hui. Ensign Sun was half vulcan, part Vietnamese and a few other things as well - but he seemed to behave like a vulcan. “Did you see that, sir?”

Sun turned to favor Guth with a level gaze. “It appears the dampening field has been turned off. But communications are still jammed - to the point that I cannot obtain a transporter lock. I cannot identify Investigator Buttans either. He does not appear to be with the main group.”

“Permission for a fly-by, sir,” Guth said. He was itching to get closer to the ground.

Sun looked quizzically at Guth. “Where is the logic in that? They might have turned off the dampener to draw us in.”

Chief Guth boggled at the young Ensign. “Very unlikely, sir. Our people don’t have projectile weapons. The locals wouldn’t turn that thing off unless our team were dead or captured. The scanner shows our people are together, by themselves and on the move. We could distract their enemies.”

Ensign Sun raised an eyebrow, then raised the other one. “That sounds reasonable.” The young vulcan unconsciously looked up. “Lieutenant Tauk,” The communications system directed Sun’s voice up to the tactical station on the bridge of the Hunter in orbit far above. “The dampening field near the ground operation group is off and we are now reading Lieutenant Smith and her team. We cannot beam them out. I am requesting permission for a fly-by to give Lieutenant Smith some cover to move.”


The line was silent for a moment.


Tauk’s voice came back, “All units be advised, the wagon is cleared for a fly-by, but only the wagon. Interceptors keep your altitude, but return fire on any position that fires on the wagon.”

Guth pressed a button, and pulled the control stick out from under the wagon’s pilot console. It had been stored under the console in a horizontal position. He rotated the stick 90 degrees into the upright operating position, activating the controller. “Hang on to something, sir, I’m reducing the internal inertial dampeners.”

Sun Ho Hui checked his seat restraint, then gripped the arms of the chair.

Dewayne Guth gripped the stick and took the wagon plummeting down several hundred meters to buzz the building tops at high speed, creating a rush of displaced air. If he could not rescue the team, at least he could let them know help was near and give their enemies something else to worry about.

2.9 (of 16)​

I named pilot Dewayne Guth after American physicist Dr. Alan Guth (rhymes with Booth)

 

[Gibraltar]

Review:
Episode 2: The Colony of New Hope
Scene 6: Kenneth Dolphin Commanding

Well, Dolphin's a different sort of fellow, isn't he? Fascinating info regarding his earlier failed careers, and he ultimately ends up here part of the Judge's eclectic crew.

He's showing a lot of trust in a newly promoted lieutenant, but then, Dolphin's just got here himself. Here's hoping this mission, already fraying at the edges, doesn't get any worse...

 

[Gibraltar]

Review
Episode 2: The Colony of New Hope
Scene 7: Pepper Revival

Okay, I think I'm finally getting the full picture here. Certainly, in a meta-civilization as vast as the Federation, there must be tens-of-millions of people who could fill the various high-level legal roles needed aboard Hunter and her ilk. It just so happens that Judge Irons has selected from among those countless millions those most capable of wrecking the shit out of everything around them when the occasion calls for it.

Pepper's yet another example. Brilliant mind, cocooned with in a physique built for pure carnage. I am really liking this diverse and fascinating crew of characters.

 

[Gibraltar]

Review:
Episode 2: The Colony of New Hope
Scene 8: The Dampening Generator

That was an intense segment with great, believable action. The skill-sets of the various members of Hunter's disparate surface teams seem well-taylored to this assignment. Buttans may not be as big and brawny as some of his fellows, but he gets the job done just the same.

 

[Robert Bruce Scott]

...It just so happens that Judge Irons has selected from among those countless millions those most capable of wrecking the shit out of everything around them when the occasion calls for it. ...

And every one of them owes Irons... She sponsored Pep's 4-year sabbatical from SF to study klingon poetry as an exchange student on Qo'noS... Got Dolphin's SF career unstuck from the jr. officer grades... She's grooming T'Lok Smith for great things... The Hunter is less than a year out of Utopia Planetia Shipyard, but Irons has been putting this project together for years.

Glad you're enjoying her project... And that you enjoyed Buttans' little action sequence - Thanks for the kind words!! rbs