Letting AI write a story

[Sgt_G]

I've been playing around withe Microsoft Copilot "artificial intelligence" web page. I figured I'd let it try to wrote a story, so I took the plot of one that I wrote and plugged that in.

My story is SECOND CHANCES found in Post # 12 of this link: https://www.trekbbs.com/threads/unexpected.303607/

See below for what the AI bot came up with.

 

[Sgt_G]

Plot: Write a short story set in Star Trek universe. A junior enlisted crewman was involved in a bar fight. He was an innocent bystander and tried to defend a female officer. The story scene is in the chief petty officer's office. The chief petty officer is questioning the crewman.

Result:

Title: “Beneath the Stars”

In the vast expanse of the Star Trek universe, even the smallest acts of courage ripple across the cosmos.


The dimly lit bar on Starbase 12 was a haven for interstellar travelers, a place where the boundaries of species and allegiances blurred over glasses of synthale. Crewman Jake Reynolds, a fresh-faced ensign aboard the USS Horizon, had wandered in seeking camaraderie after a long shift. Little did he know that fate had other plans.

The altercation began when a burly Klingon, fueled by too much bloodwine, took offense at the Andorian ensign’s choice of words. The bar erupted into chaos as chairs flew, and Reynolds found himself caught in the crossfire. He ducked, narrowly avoiding a Romulan elbow, and stumbled into the path of Lieutenant Commander T’Vor, the ship’s chief science officer.

T’Vor was no stranger to conflict. Her Vulcan stoicism masked a fierce determination, and she had a reputation for handling herself in tight spots. But this time, she was outnumbered. The Klingon and his cronies closed in, their laughter echoing through the smoke-filled room.

Reynolds acted on instinct. He stepped between T’Vor and the Klingon, raising his hands in a futile attempt to defuse the situation. “Enough!” he shouted, his voice lost in the melee. “She’s done nothing wrong!”

The Klingon snarled, eyes bloodshot. “You defend her, Starfleet worm?”

Before Reynolds could reply, security personnel burst in, phasers drawn. The brawl subsided, and the combatants were hauled away. T’Vor nodded at Reynolds, her gratitude evident. “Thank you, Crewman. Your intervention was commendable.”

Now, in Chief Petty Officer Ramirez’s cramped office, Reynolds shifted nervously. The chief’s grizzled face bore the weight of years of discipline. His eyes, however, held a glimmer of curiosity.

“Sit,” Ramirez grunted, gesturing to the lone chair. “You’re new here, Reynolds. What’s your story?”

Reynolds cleared his throat. “Sir, I was just trying to help Lieutenant Commander T’Vor. She’s an officer, and—”

“—and you thought it was your duty to play hero?” Ramirez leaned back, studying Reynolds. “You’re lucky she didn’t break your nose.”

“I didn’t want trouble,” Reynolds stammered. “I just—”

Ramirez waved him off. “Listen, kid. Starfleet isn’t about heroics. It’s about survival. You think T’Vor needed your protection? She’s been through worse. But you—you’re green. You’ll learn.”

Reynolds clenched his fists. “With all due respect, Chief, I couldn’t stand by and watch.”

The chief’s eyes softened. “You’ve got guts, Reynolds. But remember this: sometimes the best defense is knowing when to step back. T’Vor can handle herself. You’re here to follow orders, not rewrite the script.”

Reynolds nodded, chastened. “Understood, sir.”

As he left the office, Reynolds glanced back at the starscape outside the tiny window. Maybe he hadn’t saved the day, but he’d earned the respect of a Vulcan officer—a small victory in a vast universe. And perhaps, beneath those stars, he’d find his place among the crew of the USS Horizon.

 

[Sgt_G]

Input: Write a story set in the Star Trek universe in which Star Fleet Marines rescue over a hundred female human-traffic victims from a pirate slaver ship.


-- Copilot AI response --

Title: “Operation Liberate”

Stardate 5472.3

The USS Galaxy Serpent, a sleek Federation starship, cruised through the inky void of space. Its mission: to explore strange new worlds, seek out new life and civilizations, and boldly go where no one had gone before. But today, its crew faced a different kind of challenge—one that would test their mettle and compassion.

Captain Kira Sato sat in her command chair, her fingers tapping rhythmically on the armrest. The intelligence reports were grim: a notorious pirate slaver ship, the Black Nebula, had been preying on vulnerable colonies near the Romulan border. Its cargo? Over a hundred female human-trafficking victims, stolen from their homes, their lives shattered.

Kira clenched her jaw. She’d seen the aftermath of such atrocities before—the haunted eyes, the broken spirits. As a former Starfleet Marine, she knew what had to be done. The Galaxy Serpent was their last hope.

“Commander Reyes,” Kira said, her voice steady. “Prepare the away team. We’re going in.”

The pirate ship loomed ahead, its hull scarred and patched. Kira’s away team materialized in the dimly lit cargo hold, phasers drawn. The air smelled of sweat and fear. Rows of cages lined the walls, each containing a fragile soul.

Lieutenant Jax, the team’s communications officer, scanned the room. “Captain, we’ve got life signs—lots of them.”

Kira’s gaze swept over the women huddled in the cages. Their faces were etched with pain, but defiance glimmered in their eyes. They’d survived hell; now it was time to reclaim their lives.

“Marines,” Kira said, addressing her team, “we’re here to liberate these women. Let’s show them what Starfleet stands for.”

The Black Nebula’s crew fought fiercely. Blaster bolts streaked through the air as the Marines advanced. Kira’s heart pounded as she led the charge, phaser set to stun. She’d faced Klingons, Cardassians, and Borg, but this was different. These women were innocents caught in a brutal game.

Lieutenant Chen, the team’s medic, knelt beside a fallen crew member. “Captain, we’re taking casualties.”

Kira gritted her teeth. “Keep pushing forward. We can’t let them down.”

Finally, they reached the central control room. The pirate captain, a scar-faced brute named Zaraq, stood defiantly at the helm. Kira’s phaser locked onto him.

“Zaraq,” she said, her voice cold, “release the women.”

He sneered. “Why should I? They’re my property.”

Kira’s finger tightened on the trigger. “Because it’s the right thing to do.”

The room erupted in chaos as the Marines overpowered the remaining pirates. Kira rushed to the control panel, deactivating the force fields around the cages. The women stumbled out, their legs weak but their spirits unbroken.

Back on the Galaxy Serpent, the rescued women received medical care, warm meals, and counseling. Kira watched them from the observation deck, their faces slowly transforming from fear to hope.

Commander Reyes approached. “Captain, we’ve secured Zaraq and his crew. They’ll face justice.”

Kira nodded. “Good. But remember, Reyes, we’re not just soldiers. We’re guardians of the innocent.”

As the stars streaked past, Kira vowed that the Galaxy Serpent would continue its mission—to protect, to heal, and to bring light to the darkest corners of the universe.

And so, the story of “Operation Liberate” became a legend in Starfleet—a testament to courage, compassion, and the unwavering belief that even in the vastness of space, humanity’s better angels would prevail.

 

[Sgt_G]

I tried to let Copilot AI write some more stories, but most were just average. A few made no sense at all for what I asked of it. Here's one of the better ones. Set in modern day, not Trek or even sci-fi.

You: Write a short story about a 15 year old flying her ultralight airplane to help search for a missing child in the New Mexico desert.

Copilot -- Title: “Wings of Hope”

The New Mexico desert stretched out beneath the ultralight airplane’s wings, a vast expanse of red earth and sagebrush. Fifteen-year-old Maya had dreamed of flying since she was a little girl, and now, with her father’s old ultralight restored, she was finally airborne.

Maya’s heart raced as she adjusted the throttle and felt the wind tugging at her hair. The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the arid landscape. But she wasn’t out here for joyrides. She had a mission.

Two days ago, the news had spread like wildfire: a six-year-old boy named Diego had vanished from his home near the small town of Roswell. Search parties scoured the desert, but the vastness seemed to swallow them whole. Maya’s father was part of the rescue team, and she couldn’t bear the thought of Diego lost and scared out there.

So, she hatched a plan. She’d fly her ultralight, equipped with binoculars and a two-way radio, searching for any sign of the missing child. Her parents had protested, but Maya was determined. She’d prove that sometimes, heroes wore aviator goggles and flew solo.

As the sun dipped lower, Maya scanned the desert below. The radio crackled to life. “Maya, this is Dad. Any sign of Diego?”

She squinted, adjusting her altitude. “Not yet, Dad. But I won’t give up.”

The desert whispered its secrets—a rusted car wreck, a lone coyote—but no sign of Diego. Maya’s fingers trembled on the controls. She had to find him. She had to be the wings of hope.

Just when despair threatened to engulf her, Maya spotted something—a glint of metal near an abandoned mine shaft. She circled lower, heart pounding. There, etched into the red earth, were the letters “D.G.”

Diego’s initials.

Maya’s voice wavered as she radioed her father. “Dad, I found something. Head to the old mine, coordinates 33.456, -104.523.”

The rescue team arrived, their headlights piercing the gathering darkness. Maya touched down near the mine, her legs shaky as she unbuckled her harness. And there, huddled in the shadows, was Diego—dirty, dehydrated, but alive.

His tearful parents embraced him, and Maya stepped back, her heart swelling. She’d done it. Her ultralight had become a beacon of hope, guiding them to Diego.

As the stars blinked to life above the New Mexico desert, Maya knew she’d never forget this flight. She’d found more than a missing child; she’d found her purpose—the sky, her canvas, and hope, her wings.

And so, the legend of the fifteen-year-old aviator who soared through the desert to rescue a lost boy was born. Maya’s ultralight became a symbol of courage, reminding everyone that sometimes, the smallest wings could carry the greatest hope.

Author’s Note: Inspired by true stories of search and rescue missions, “Wings of Hope” celebrates the resilience of both children and the skies that watch over them.

 

[Galen4]

Thanks for creating this thread.
I think this is an elephant that deserves more attention.

 

[Sgt_G]

Thanks for creating this thread.
I think this is an elephant that deserves more attention.

Yes, it does.

I was hoping others would post their AI-generated stories, too. But now that you mention it, I think the whole idea of AI-generated writing should be discussed. I'll open a separate thread for that.

 

[Sgt_G]

Another MS Copilot AI written story:

Title: “The Lonely Dragon”

In the heart of the ancient forest, where sunlight filtered through emerald leaves, there lived a lonely dragon named Drakar. His scales shimmered like polished obsidian, and his eyes held the wisdom of centuries. But despite his majestic appearance, Drakar was plagued by solitude.

The villagers who lived nearby whispered tales of the fearsome dragon. They spoke of his fiery breath, his razor-sharp claws, and the way he guarded a hidden treasure deep within his lair. Children would dare each other to venture close, but none ever returned. Fear had woven a thick veil around Drakar, isolating him from the very world he longed to be part of.

Drakar’s cavern was adorned with glittering gems and ancient scrolls. He spent his days reading about distant lands, dreaming of companionship. His heart ached for laughter, for shared stories around a campfire, and for the warmth of friendship. But whenever he approached the village, the people fled, their eyes wide with terror.

One day, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Drakar decided he couldn’t bear the loneliness any longer. He spread his wings and soared toward the village, determined to change their perception of him. But as he landed in the central square, the villagers screamed and scattered like autumn leaves in a storm.

Drakar lowered his head, crestfallen. “Why do they fear me?” he wondered aloud. “I’ve never harmed anyone.”

From the shadows stepped a young girl named Elara. Her eyes held curiosity rather than fear. “You’re lonely, aren’t you?” she said softly.

Drakar blinked, surprised that someone would approach him willingly. “Yes,” he admitted. “I ache for companionship.”

Elara smiled. “Perhaps it’s because they don’t know your heart. They only see the fire and scales.”

Together, they hatched a plan. Drakar would perform acts of kindness—rescuing lost sheep, repairing roofs, and planting flowers in the village square. Elara would be his bridge to the villagers, sharing stories of his gentle nature.

As weeks passed, Drakar’s reputation slowly shifted. The children no longer hid when he approached. Instead, they gathered around him, asking about distant lands and ancient legends. The adults watched from a distance, their fear replaced by curiosity.

One evening, as the moon bathed the forest in silver, Elara organized a feast. She invited everyone—the blacksmith, the baker, and even the grumpy old innkeeper. Drakar sat at the center, his wings folded, and listened to their laughter. The villagers marveled at his stories of forgotten kingdoms and whispered secrets.

And then, an elderly woman named Agnes approached. Her eyes held both wonder and sadness. “I lost my son to the forest years ago,” she said. “He was brave, like you.”

Drakar bowed his head. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Agnes smiled. “But perhaps you can be my friend now. You have the heart of a protector.”

From that day on, Drakar became the guardian of the village. He no longer felt like a monster; he was their companion, their confidant. And as the seasons changed, so did the villagers’ perception of him. They no longer saw a fearsome dragon—they saw Drakar, the lonely soul who just wanted to belong.

And so, in the heart of the ancient forest, friendship bloomed—a bond forged between unlikely companions. Drakar learned that sometimes, the greatest treasure wasn’t gold or jewels—it was the warmth of a smile, the touch of a hand, and the joy of being understood.

And so, the once-solitary dragon found his place among the villagers, forever changing their lives and his own.

 

[Rowdy Roddy McDowall]

I'm itching for an AI sequel to BY ANY OTHER NAME.....

 

[Count Zero]

I kind of fail to see the point of continuing with new posts in this thread.
You @Sgt_G started the discussion about AI written stories as you stated in this thread. It garnered a lot of posts, some of which were quite passionate. The majority of this sub-forum's regulars came down against allowing AI written stories. And while there isn't a board rule against it (yet), I'm not comfortable with letting this thread continue. Especially given the emotions the discussion thread brought up. This thread was valid as a proof of concept and an example of what's possible but served its purpose, I think.
This forum is dedicated to fiction written by fans and not mindless LLMs. So I'm closing this thread.

Comments to DM.