(corrected the link.)
http://www.geocities.com/trekwriter31/STCM_BehaveBadly.doc
"Star Trek: The Continuing Mission"
"Sunday Morning After"
------------------------------
"Star Trek: The Continuing Mission" is based upon "Star Trek" created by Gene Roddenberry and is in no way affiliated with CBS Corporation, Paramount Pictures Corporation, or Viacom. "Star Trek", "Star Trek: The Next Generation", "Star Trek: Deep Space 9", "Star Trek: Voyager", "Star Trek: Enterprise", and all related marks are registered trademarks of Paramount Pictures and their respective owners; no copyright violation is intended or desired.
_______________________________________________________________________
Stardate:
55028.5
Old Calendar Date:
Thursday January 12 2378
Location:
Hell’s-Gate Station
---------------------
Chapter One:
"Sunday Morning After"
Hell’s-Gate Station - A welcome sight after an extended tour of duty for Starfleet’s Aerospace and Transport Commands, entreprenours, and settlers. Empok Nor had been relocated to the Likara Sector, in a free trade zone sandwiched between the Kzinti, Romulans, Ferengii & First Federation. The Alexandria-Class shipyard’s red and green running lights felt like candles in the window for those brave enough to try to cover their asses, while scarcely scraping out a feasible living shuttling goods, personnel & services between Bajor & its fledgling new rivals.
It had only been a few months since Odo’s return to the Omarion Nebula to cure the Great Link. The Jem Hadar had withdrawn or been sent back to the Gamma Quadrant by the beings residing in the wormhole. The Station was 48% renovated, formerly a Nor-Class starbase left adrift & inhabited by a trio of Cardassian soldiers left to protect it from scavengers. It had been an important project entered into by Federation Security, The Cardassian Detapa Council, Klingon High Council & the Bajoran Provisional Government in late 2377.
Kathrine Janeway had collapsed a number of the Borg’s Transwarp conduits on the Voyager’s way home. Will Riker was appointed to the Titan, a new tactical cruiser assigned to a roadtrip to Romulus to discuss their respective positions. The Enterprise-E had been towed into drydock following the Battle of The Bassen Rift. The S.C.E.‘s small task group arrived in the Trevas Sector & gingerly swaddled the outpost for a two month delivery run.
A two month trip later, Empok Nor was set-upon by a collection of architects, combat engineers, and designers with a plethura of holo-cameras. Again, Starfleet & Bajor would cooperatively govern the station. This somewhat helped Federation Citizens & Starfleet‘s allies from concentrating too much on the attack on San Francisco, or, worrying about simillar attacks on other signatory planets during the cessation of hostilities and withdrawal period. In addition to this, a combination of the Voyager’s return & Starfleet‘s redevotion to exploration successfully distracted the rest of the Federation from the The Briar Patch Forcible Relocation Scandal.
Vulcan & Romulus initiated mediation to share power between the Syranites, Reunificationists, V’tosh Ka’tur (Vulcans Without Logic) & sects currently wielding the majority of either civilian or military influence. A task force of starships docked with Empok Nor, to provide cover-fire until the main computer was installed. Upon the restoration of its basic functions, an intermediate staff was appointed to the station.
------------------------------
Chief Engineer.
Lieutenant Commander Raxit (Rachet) Sumner
The Chief Engineer of the U.S.S. Interceptor (attached to Hell’s-Gate Station,) is 73 years old by Terran standard years but otherwise spry & energetic. The crew calls him Rachet as he tinkers with ages-old obsolete Terran technology as a hobby. Everything from automobiles to old compact disc players and vinyl records. He dislikes domjot as he much prefers the simpler art of billiards and throwing darts without all the 24th century un-necessary bells & whistles.
----------------------
Commander (Major) Jonathan Alexander Morgan
The orphaned son of a Bajoran Artisan & a retired (Human) Starfleet Officer who’d met each other at a political symposium during the late 2350’s. His parents were murdered outside their residential school, just for the groceries they were carrying.
Jonathan became a thug, perpetually in & out of jail until a Starfleet Officer (Captain Tony Dark of Starbase Phoenix) asked a Cardassian judge to place him in his custody on Starbase Phoenix. In order to give Jonathan a direction in life, rehabilitate him & earn restitution. The Cardassians were happy to have one less vastly-unpredictable element on their hands, & immediately granted Starfleet the ability to to keep him out of the way & permanently off Bajor.
He was field trained in Engineering & Command due to his personal career aptitudes which developed from his prior responsibilities/experiences with his parents‘ residential school. He‘d entered Starfleet as soon as everyone on Bajor learned the Cardassians had withdrawn.
---------------------
Bekk (Ensign/Warrior) Sirella Proulx
Science Officer, Hell’s-Gate Station.
A non-commisioned officer. A candidate since the Alpha Quadrant Alliance. Part of the Officer Exchange program & The Interspecies Medical Exchange. She’s also a member of the Chalchaj 'qmey or “Children of Heaven” from Chal.
She’s worked with a lot of the Klingon Empire’s children held by the Romulans and written papers on Human-Klingon personal relationships. Including the complicated relationships between Commander Worf Rozjenko, Captain James T. Kirk, Telani Kirk, Alexander & Nikolai Rozjenko. She’s served on research vessels where remains were unearthed and analyzed in order to give fallen soldiers & their families some final closure. Comes off as cold & distant as she gets right into her work, often neglecting obvious romantic ovations or invitations to join the girls for a night in.
--------------------------
Chief Medical Officer
Lieutenant Chloe Yarann
Also a member of the Chalchaj 'qmey or “Children of Heaven” from Chal. Officially certified by a distance-learning program via Starfleet Medical, Chloe joinned Starfleet to get off Chal & see the Quadrant. A bit of a flirt but otherwise conducts herself professionally. She’s approximately 58 human years old but her Romulan/Human/Klingon biological manipulations have slowed her aging process significantly. Her occasional emotional/hormonal imbalences aggravate her, such as her libido spiking and dropping at the least opportune times. Was briefly married, but her mate was killed by Jem Hadar in mid-2374. resulting in Chloe being extensively injured while serving as Chief Medical Officer aboard the same Klalath-Class vessel. She recovered and accepted missions to the Chin’toka System after the war, It was simply a matter of being in the right place at the right time to accept the assignment to Hell’s-Gate Station, as she was on a very exclusive list including Beverley Crusher & Kathrine Pulaski.
----------------------
Chapter Two:
"Chivalry & The Single Girl"
A few Peregrine-Class fighters and their Bajoran wing-commanders flew routine circuits around the station, nearby planets and finally swooped by the shipyards. Commander Jonathan Alexander Morgan looked out the window from his Ready Room, sipped some mango tea and sighed. The Pandora wouldn’t be in for a few more hours and he couldn’t wait. A holodeck was a convenient option but it just wasn’t the same thing as a shower-fresh Trill in form-fitting lacy, chifon lingeree giving you back rubs & making you french crepes for breakfast every once in a while.
Commander Alicia Chrichton was the temporary Acting C.O. of a Pandora-Class freighter. Things were especially difficult at Starfleet’s Transport Command. The most difficult part was finding qualified, trustworthy people willing to hang on by their fingernails, almost always ducking & running from raiders while eatting one-pot meals and sharing accomodations. Vacations and general privacy are both at a premium so you’re gambling with your career if you share anything in confidence with anyone.
Which leads me to tell you about the night Commander Morgan met the Pandora’s Captain.
She’d spent the evening at the local watering hole, got herself good and shit-faced - and then, slipped & fell on top of him. She’d been slurring the song Edge Of Seventeen by Stevie Nicks playing over the club’s speakers and gyrating provocatively on the bar on somebody‘s dare. Being the gentleman that he was, Jonathan called-up the E.M.H. whom assessed and transported Alicia right to the infirmary. Morgan spent the night in the infirmary holding her hair back as she vomited in a bucket, tossed the buckets out the nearest unoccupied airlock, and came back to rub her back the next time.
He ended-up staying the night in sickbay, keeping her on her side to keep her from swallowing her tongue or worse, holding her hand as she shivered with chills. Being somewhat interested by the blond woman who’d collapsed on him but in a way he wasn’t entirely sure about, he gradually nodded off on the bench next to the biobed. She woke-up heavily disoriented, holding Jon’s hand. She let go of his hand gently, looking around while suddenly realizing she was in some pain and unable to do more than sit-up.
She began leaning on the bulkhead at the head of her bed. A nurse walked in & pricked her with a solution in a hypo-spray. The room cleared up and her headache disappeared, though the taste in her mouth hadn‘t. Alicia noticed the Bajoran guy (in civilian off-duty wardrobe) sleeping next to the bed. She weakly smiled, thinking "How come there aren’t more guys like you?“
Sort-of grateful for his help, but uninterested in talking about the night before, she decided to get dressed and find a way to get rid of the awful taste of bile. She’d headed for the nearest replimat to ask for for a glass of mouthwash, spat it out in a trash receptical on the promenade & returned to her vessel. No-one on her bridge crew discussed the activities of the last twenty-four hours.
After all, everyone knows the commonly understood rule of starship crews - what happens in Vegas,
stays in Vegas.
A few hours later, she’d showered & changed back into uniform. Per routine, hailled operations to submit her flight plan, consent to a final scan of her ship for stowaways, confirm contents of their cargo bays, prevent themselves from circulating any contaminants, and to get Operations to release the station’s docking clamps.
There in the viewer was the gentleman who’d been her knight in shining armor.
OMIGAWD, she thought, mortified. Her face flushed. Clearing her throat, she quickly regained her composure.
Part of Jon was tempted to ask her how she slept. He didn’t say anything, though. He felt okay about smiling at her. He simply approved the unspoken, uncomfortable request to disembark & wished them a quiet trip.
His face disappeared off the viewer, to be quickly replaced by the Federation’s logo. She noticed the bridge crew looking at her, causing to march into her ready room. After she’d collected herself, she’d returned to the bridge & noticed the yellow rose deposited on her chair. She approached the nearest officer, her Edosian Chief Engineer, S’Rayus.
"Who put that there?“
"It transported over before we went to warp. I’m guessing it’s from
that guy.“
------------------------------
Chapter Three:
"A Few Good Men"
Six
Klalath-Class birds of prey (the Klingon version of the Defiant-Class escort/destroyer) decloaked at the station’s periphery with souvinirs in tow. It wouldn’t be long before the convoy of freighters with empty holds would drop from warp & hail Operations. The convoy left two weeks ago with bellies bulging with shield generators, industrial replicators, fighters, runabouts, refugees, and medical personnel. They’ll have forty-eight hours to refill their holds, seek passenger fares and grant their crews a brief twenty-four hour liberty.
Morgan thought, "I could still get a runabout & rendezvous with the Pandora,“ but decided against it.
"They’ll have to rendezvous with the 13th Fleet at the edge of Federation Space and receive the next leg of their instructions as things change
so quickly out here.“ He continued looking moodily out the window until his doorbell warbled.
"Come.“
"It’s here, sir.“
The Frankenstein Fleet was set-up with obsolete surplus vessels that were originally condemned to a slow decay in orbital junkyards and had been hurriedly pulled from their graves, given new muscle, sinew, flesh, and armor, newly manned, and sent to the front lines for immediate service. So many were pulled that only a hand full were given new equipment to face the Dominion and its allies. The rest were merely cannon fodder for the Cardassians and Jem’Hadar to waste their attention on while the stronger ships were left to mount assaults on them.
The
Interceptor was one of those upgraded vessels, the next generation of Intrepid-Class scout with all of the range of a Sovereign-Class and the tactical bite of a Defiant. Captain Morgan and his crew were given the Interceptor in order to defend the station in the event the Borg or Dominion decided to get frisky. Though, It wouldn’t be able to do more than delay
forces unknown & give everyone a chance to scatter.
).
