“Computer.” Ugh, what a shift. Never thought we’d get that turbine realigned.
Yes, Commander Taylor?
“Stand by to record: letter to grandmum. Also, copy to my personal logs.”
Whenever you’re ready, Commander.
Connie had been halfway out of her uniform practically before the doors to her quarters had slid shut. Stained with ionized turbonium, liquefied corbarrite, (and is that daVincium I smell?), Connie quickly finished removing the uniform and tossed it in the reclamation slot. Ahh, much better. Clad now in a black athletic-style bra and snug, matching knee-length trunks, Connie took a moment to look at herself in the mirror. Something she’d said to Gabriel some time ago popped into her head, and she had to laugh.
All it takes is an exotic accent and a hint of cleavage, and you’ll chase after her like a targ in heat, she’d said angrily, mad at Gabriel for his latest dalliance. It was unfair of me, she thought; Gabriel was certainly not the playboy she’d accused him of being, and besides, my accent is one of the things Gabriel loves about me. ‘The Queen’s English with a delicious hint of your native Japanese,’ he’d said. And he is rather fond of my cleavage…
Connie found herself blushing, so she turned her focus back to the waiting computer. “Computer, begin recording.”
Go ahead, Commander.
“Hi grandmum, hope you’re doing well.” Bloody hell, that sounds so trite. Might as well just bite the bullet and tuck right in. “Computer, erase and restart recording.”
Go ahead, Commander.
“Grandmum… I have seen where I’m going to die. Not when, though I feel oddly confident in saying it won’t be for a while, and not how, fortunately.” Connie chuckled, a nervous laugh. “Not sure I could deal with that… but definitely where.” Connie tried unsuccessfully to suppress a shudder as an image appeared in her mind’s eye, followed by a flood of memory…
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
Connie was livid. “You mean for the last month this ship was commanded by a hologram?”
“Hard-light avatar, actually.” Gabriel’s neutral tone of voice just made Connie madder.
“A HOLOGRAM? How do I know you’re really Captain Frost? How do I know it’s not a hologram sitting at that desk?”
Gabriel tapped the back of his head. “Remember this?” he said, indicating where his holotronic matrix core was. “For all intents and purposes, Commander, I am a hologram. A hologram wearing a suit of flesh and bone instead of a mobile emitter, but a hologram nonetheless.” He leaned back in his chair as Connie’s cheeks reddened with embarrassment.
“From time to time,” Gabriel continued, “I’ve had to be, well, two places at once, so I’ve used the hard-light avatar.” He smiled. “I’ll spare you the lecture on the differences between holo-particles and hard light. And I am aware of what the avatar’s doing, through a subspace link, kind of like what the Borg use.”
“Why have it here, then, instead of… instead of wherever it is you go?”
“The nature of my work… Let’s just say I have to be there in person. It’s not something I could trust to the avatar.”
“But you’ll leave your toy in command of a Starfleet ship of the line? Why not just put me in charge?” Connie said, anger coloring her voice again. “And what about the time that we… bloody hell, don’t tell me…”
“That was me, the real me,” Gabriel said, taking Connie’s hand. “And I couldn’t leave you in command, unfortunately. Appearances had to be maintained. There are those who would... compromise… my work. But she’s almost finished, I’m so close…”
“She?”
Gabriel smiled, that half-smile that annoyed Connie so much. “It’s probably past time I showed you.” He tabbed a control on his desk, opening a comm channel to Challenger’s ‘air boss’.
“Kromm,” said Gabriel, “ghuH wlj Duj vaD.”
“Hlja’wlj joH’a’!” growled the Klingon. “SoH Daq vagh.”
Gabriel stood, pulling on his uniform tunic. He indicated the door with his hand. “Shall we?” Connie stepped into the corridor, followed by Gabriel. As they made their way to the yacht dock, on the top of the saucer, Gabriel contacted LCDR K’kon and informed him that he and Connie had been called to an unexpected rendezvous with Celvani naval personnel, and that he’d be in command until they returned.
The captain’s yacht, Unforgiven (a heavily modified Temujin-class combat scout), slid silently out of her berth and catapulted away from Challenger at high impulse, jumping to warp once clear of Gateway Station’s defense perimeter.
“Where are we going?” Connie asked after several minutes. Gabriel gave her another half-smile.
“Curiosity killed the cat, Commander.”
“But satisfaction brought him back,” she retorted.
Gabriel laughed. “We are going to the Vault. It’s a top-secret starship development facility, constructed by the Celvani. Though many of their technological developments have originated here, very few in the Celvani star forces know about it.”
“But you just happen to,” deadpanned Connie.
“It’s a long story.”
Connie rolled her eyes. “Of course it is.”
“In any case… Some of the preliminary work on the Pellucidar-class came from the Vault, from when I was here after our first contact with the Celvani.” Gabriel looked at Connie, his face taking on a serious mien. “What I’m doing there, I’m doing for a reason. I can’t say exactly what the reason is, because I’m not really sure myself. It’s… call it a hunch, or intuition, or whatever, but something is waiting for me. Since the Celvani believe I’m their prophesied ‘O’ho’ulho Third-Traveller’, they’ve been more than willing to help. I guess they think it’ll help me fulfill my ‘destiny’, or something like that. We…” The computer chirped, interrupting him.
Gabriel consulted the navigational display as Unforgiven dropped out of warp. “Ah, we’re here. Connie looked out the viewport and saw nothing but a dead moon. She looked at Gabriel quizzically. Gabriel didn’t reply to her unvoiced question, instead tapping a series of commands into the console in front of him. There was a.. lurch.. as Unforgiven’s warp drive abruptly fired in a decidedly non-standard nutation, shifting the ship to a deep level of subspace. What had appeared to be a shattered moon revealed a massive spacedook facility carved into the moon’s remains.
“Wow,” said Connie quietly.
“You ain’t seen nothing yet,” grinned Gabriel. With a stomach-turning twist, Unforgiven dove for the surface of the station, weaving deftly through the canyons of metal that lined the outer shell of the base before slipping into the Vault itself. The interior was hollow, and Connie could see a handful of ships, some in various stages of construction. But it was the spectacular raptor-like starship in the center of the cavernous space that drew her eyes and held her transfixed.
“Holy God…”
Unforgiven hung motionless for a moment, allowing Gabriel and Connie to enjoy the spectacular view. The Celvani equivalent to Starfleet workbees zipped around the Vault’s interior, some towing cargo pods. Connie noticed a trio of Celvani transcraft, the sleek large shuttles with the dimensional warp drives, called “bounce drives”, that allowed the ships nearly instantaneous travel within one AU. She could also see a couple of Celvani cruisers, and a D’haan battleship, looking for all the world as if it had been carved from the living rock of Corva’los, the D’haan homeworld.
Despite all the sights, Connie couldn’t keep her eyes from returning to the ship in the middle of the Vault. The hull was a gleaming white, brighter by several shades than the Sovereign-class, with wide stripes of blue on either side, and some grey and black down the centerline, along with some markings Connie didn’t recognize. She bore no NCC number, nor obvious registry of any sort, just her name in a unique font.
Challenger.
“She’s.. she’s beautiful, in a very predatory way.” Connie shivered. “Damn, Gabriel, she gives me the heebie-jeebies, and she’s not even moving.”
“She does have a certain something, doesn’t she?” replied Gabriel. “Fear can be as potent a weapon as a phaser or quantum torpedo.” Connie watched as Gabriel’s eyes travelled over Challenger’s sleek lines, admiring the ship in much the same way as he admired Connie’s naked body.
“What are those markings, those stripes and glyphs?” asked Connie. Upon closer inspection, the designs looked oddly familiar, almost.. tribal?
“Tattoos,” said Gabriel casually, as if there was nothing unusual about using that word in relation to a starship.
“Ta.. tattoos?” Connie laughed long and loud. “I suppose I’ve been around you too long, Captain, because that really doesn’t surprise me at all.” The look she fired his way indicated that, although she wasn’t surprised, she did require an explanation.
“The Celvani have long held that tattoos have powers – magical, for lack of a better word – though until the coming of the mythical First-Traveller, they thought them evil. You’ve probably noticed similar markings on one or two Celvani ships; their use is reserved for ships of great significance. In this case…” Gabriel tabbed a series of commands into the PADD built in to his uniform’s left sleeve, and as he did so, certain ‘tattoos’ on the ship glowed. Shortly, Challenger was sheathed in an ablative armor shell. “Stylish and functional.”
Where Challenger’s hull was a brilliant white, the armor was void-black with razor-sharp edges and mind-bending curves. Thusly armored, the ship’s predatory appearance gave way to the look of something born of darkest nightmare, of primal fears given shape. Connie shivered again, this time violently, and a dark vision flashed through her mind.
“Did a goose just step on your grave?” Gabriel asked.
Connie's lips moved, but only the barest sound came out.
“I’m going to die on that ship…”
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
“Oh grandmum, I wish I could send pictures of that ship. Forged in the fires of some distant hell, she was…” Connie laughed. “OK, that was a bit much. Honestly, though, words just can’t begin to describe her. Maybe you’ll see her someday, though I fear it will be a dark day if you do.
“Ah, Gabriel Frost… where to start? You’ve heard of him, of course, he’s the one who singlehandedly made first contact with the Celvani. He doesn’t talk about it much; I think he’s still uncomfortable with the Celvani belief that he’s a figure of legend and prophesy, the Third-Traveller. Hmm, 'still' uncomfortable? I can’t imagine anyone would ever get comfortable with that sort of thing, at least not the kind of man Gabriel is. He is honorable, a terrible liar, and a quiet man.. almost reclusive at times. But he’s a brilliant ship designer, and the kind of captain Starfleet could use more of.
“And damn me, but I love him…”
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
to be concluded...
Yes, Commander Taylor?
“Stand by to record: letter to grandmum. Also, copy to my personal logs.”
Whenever you’re ready, Commander.
Connie had been halfway out of her uniform practically before the doors to her quarters had slid shut. Stained with ionized turbonium, liquefied corbarrite, (and is that daVincium I smell?), Connie quickly finished removing the uniform and tossed it in the reclamation slot. Ahh, much better. Clad now in a black athletic-style bra and snug, matching knee-length trunks, Connie took a moment to look at herself in the mirror. Something she’d said to Gabriel some time ago popped into her head, and she had to laugh.
All it takes is an exotic accent and a hint of cleavage, and you’ll chase after her like a targ in heat, she’d said angrily, mad at Gabriel for his latest dalliance. It was unfair of me, she thought; Gabriel was certainly not the playboy she’d accused him of being, and besides, my accent is one of the things Gabriel loves about me. ‘The Queen’s English with a delicious hint of your native Japanese,’ he’d said. And he is rather fond of my cleavage…
Connie found herself blushing, so she turned her focus back to the waiting computer. “Computer, begin recording.”
Go ahead, Commander.
“Hi grandmum, hope you’re doing well.” Bloody hell, that sounds so trite. Might as well just bite the bullet and tuck right in. “Computer, erase and restart recording.”
Go ahead, Commander.
“Grandmum… I have seen where I’m going to die. Not when, though I feel oddly confident in saying it won’t be for a while, and not how, fortunately.” Connie chuckled, a nervous laugh. “Not sure I could deal with that… but definitely where.” Connie tried unsuccessfully to suppress a shudder as an image appeared in her mind’s eye, followed by a flood of memory…
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
Connie was livid. “You mean for the last month this ship was commanded by a hologram?”
“Hard-light avatar, actually.” Gabriel’s neutral tone of voice just made Connie madder.
“A HOLOGRAM? How do I know you’re really Captain Frost? How do I know it’s not a hologram sitting at that desk?”
Gabriel tapped the back of his head. “Remember this?” he said, indicating where his holotronic matrix core was. “For all intents and purposes, Commander, I am a hologram. A hologram wearing a suit of flesh and bone instead of a mobile emitter, but a hologram nonetheless.” He leaned back in his chair as Connie’s cheeks reddened with embarrassment.
“From time to time,” Gabriel continued, “I’ve had to be, well, two places at once, so I’ve used the hard-light avatar.” He smiled. “I’ll spare you the lecture on the differences between holo-particles and hard light. And I am aware of what the avatar’s doing, through a subspace link, kind of like what the Borg use.”
“Why have it here, then, instead of… instead of wherever it is you go?”
“The nature of my work… Let’s just say I have to be there in person. It’s not something I could trust to the avatar.”
“But you’ll leave your toy in command of a Starfleet ship of the line? Why not just put me in charge?” Connie said, anger coloring her voice again. “And what about the time that we… bloody hell, don’t tell me…”
“That was me, the real me,” Gabriel said, taking Connie’s hand. “And I couldn’t leave you in command, unfortunately. Appearances had to be maintained. There are those who would... compromise… my work. But she’s almost finished, I’m so close…”
“She?”
Gabriel smiled, that half-smile that annoyed Connie so much. “It’s probably past time I showed you.” He tabbed a control on his desk, opening a comm channel to Challenger’s ‘air boss’.
“Kromm,” said Gabriel, “ghuH wlj Duj vaD.”
“Hlja’wlj joH’a’!” growled the Klingon. “SoH Daq vagh.”
Gabriel stood, pulling on his uniform tunic. He indicated the door with his hand. “Shall we?” Connie stepped into the corridor, followed by Gabriel. As they made their way to the yacht dock, on the top of the saucer, Gabriel contacted LCDR K’kon and informed him that he and Connie had been called to an unexpected rendezvous with Celvani naval personnel, and that he’d be in command until they returned.
The captain’s yacht, Unforgiven (a heavily modified Temujin-class combat scout), slid silently out of her berth and catapulted away from Challenger at high impulse, jumping to warp once clear of Gateway Station’s defense perimeter.
“Where are we going?” Connie asked after several minutes. Gabriel gave her another half-smile.
“Curiosity killed the cat, Commander.”
“But satisfaction brought him back,” she retorted.
Gabriel laughed. “We are going to the Vault. It’s a top-secret starship development facility, constructed by the Celvani. Though many of their technological developments have originated here, very few in the Celvani star forces know about it.”
“But you just happen to,” deadpanned Connie.
“It’s a long story.”
Connie rolled her eyes. “Of course it is.”
“In any case… Some of the preliminary work on the Pellucidar-class came from the Vault, from when I was here after our first contact with the Celvani.” Gabriel looked at Connie, his face taking on a serious mien. “What I’m doing there, I’m doing for a reason. I can’t say exactly what the reason is, because I’m not really sure myself. It’s… call it a hunch, or intuition, or whatever, but something is waiting for me. Since the Celvani believe I’m their prophesied ‘O’ho’ulho Third-Traveller’, they’ve been more than willing to help. I guess they think it’ll help me fulfill my ‘destiny’, or something like that. We…” The computer chirped, interrupting him.
Gabriel consulted the navigational display as Unforgiven dropped out of warp. “Ah, we’re here. Connie looked out the viewport and saw nothing but a dead moon. She looked at Gabriel quizzically. Gabriel didn’t reply to her unvoiced question, instead tapping a series of commands into the console in front of him. There was a.. lurch.. as Unforgiven’s warp drive abruptly fired in a decidedly non-standard nutation, shifting the ship to a deep level of subspace. What had appeared to be a shattered moon revealed a massive spacedook facility carved into the moon’s remains.
“Wow,” said Connie quietly.
“You ain’t seen nothing yet,” grinned Gabriel. With a stomach-turning twist, Unforgiven dove for the surface of the station, weaving deftly through the canyons of metal that lined the outer shell of the base before slipping into the Vault itself. The interior was hollow, and Connie could see a handful of ships, some in various stages of construction. But it was the spectacular raptor-like starship in the center of the cavernous space that drew her eyes and held her transfixed.
“Holy God…”
Unforgiven hung motionless for a moment, allowing Gabriel and Connie to enjoy the spectacular view. The Celvani equivalent to Starfleet workbees zipped around the Vault’s interior, some towing cargo pods. Connie noticed a trio of Celvani transcraft, the sleek large shuttles with the dimensional warp drives, called “bounce drives”, that allowed the ships nearly instantaneous travel within one AU. She could also see a couple of Celvani cruisers, and a D’haan battleship, looking for all the world as if it had been carved from the living rock of Corva’los, the D’haan homeworld.
Despite all the sights, Connie couldn’t keep her eyes from returning to the ship in the middle of the Vault. The hull was a gleaming white, brighter by several shades than the Sovereign-class, with wide stripes of blue on either side, and some grey and black down the centerline, along with some markings Connie didn’t recognize. She bore no NCC number, nor obvious registry of any sort, just her name in a unique font.
Challenger.
“She’s.. she’s beautiful, in a very predatory way.” Connie shivered. “Damn, Gabriel, she gives me the heebie-jeebies, and she’s not even moving.”
“She does have a certain something, doesn’t she?” replied Gabriel. “Fear can be as potent a weapon as a phaser or quantum torpedo.” Connie watched as Gabriel’s eyes travelled over Challenger’s sleek lines, admiring the ship in much the same way as he admired Connie’s naked body.
“What are those markings, those stripes and glyphs?” asked Connie. Upon closer inspection, the designs looked oddly familiar, almost.. tribal?
“Tattoos,” said Gabriel casually, as if there was nothing unusual about using that word in relation to a starship.
“Ta.. tattoos?” Connie laughed long and loud. “I suppose I’ve been around you too long, Captain, because that really doesn’t surprise me at all.” The look she fired his way indicated that, although she wasn’t surprised, she did require an explanation.
“The Celvani have long held that tattoos have powers – magical, for lack of a better word – though until the coming of the mythical First-Traveller, they thought them evil. You’ve probably noticed similar markings on one or two Celvani ships; their use is reserved for ships of great significance. In this case…” Gabriel tabbed a series of commands into the PADD built in to his uniform’s left sleeve, and as he did so, certain ‘tattoos’ on the ship glowed. Shortly, Challenger was sheathed in an ablative armor shell. “Stylish and functional.”
Where Challenger’s hull was a brilliant white, the armor was void-black with razor-sharp edges and mind-bending curves. Thusly armored, the ship’s predatory appearance gave way to the look of something born of darkest nightmare, of primal fears given shape. Connie shivered again, this time violently, and a dark vision flashed through her mind.
“Did a goose just step on your grave?” Gabriel asked.
Connie's lips moved, but only the barest sound came out.
“I’m going to die on that ship…”
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
“Oh grandmum, I wish I could send pictures of that ship. Forged in the fires of some distant hell, she was…” Connie laughed. “OK, that was a bit much. Honestly, though, words just can’t begin to describe her. Maybe you’ll see her someday, though I fear it will be a dark day if you do.
“Ah, Gabriel Frost… where to start? You’ve heard of him, of course, he’s the one who singlehandedly made first contact with the Celvani. He doesn’t talk about it much; I think he’s still uncomfortable with the Celvani belief that he’s a figure of legend and prophesy, the Third-Traveller. Hmm, 'still' uncomfortable? I can’t imagine anyone would ever get comfortable with that sort of thing, at least not the kind of man Gabriel is. He is honorable, a terrible liar, and a quiet man.. almost reclusive at times. But he’s a brilliant ship designer, and the kind of captain Starfleet could use more of.
“And damn me, but I love him…”
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
to be concluded...
Last edited:
). This one is not logical at all 
