Greetings all! I've been a long-time lurker on these boards for years now, but I finally decided to post a bit of what I've written in the AR universe. Consider the following to be excerpts from larger stories that I just haven't gotten around to writing.
**Note: The movie naturally took a bit of creative license in depicting the time frame between the end battle with Nero and the launch of the Five-Year Mission. I've expanded those few minutes out to be several months. During which I envision the Enterprise being repaired, Kirk attending some form of command school, etc.
With all that out of the way, enjoy!
****
Laurentian Star System
Stardate 2258.06
0934 hours
Commodore Heihachiro Nogura sat dumbfounded in his ready room onboard the USS Arabia. Vulcan? Gone?! Great Bird help us all. We didn’t need this—not another crisis. The Federation was already on edge with the problems in this system. This damn “border dispute” with the Klingons had gone on long enough, and now the Romulans decide to attack?
He shook his head, trying to throw of his worries and his speculation. The report from Starfleet Intelligence had concluded that the Star Empire had not sanctioned the attack on Vulcan or Earth. Still—rogue Romulans—operating their own agenda that just so happened to eliminate the one species the Romulans might hate worse than Terrans—he didn’t buy it.
He had five fully Vulcan-crewed civilian medical starships in his hastily assembled fleet. How many of those Vulcans lost their entire families in this—attack? Atrocity? Holocaust? What the hell do you call the almost-extermination of an entire species?
Come on Heihachiro! Focus. You still have your own mission in this system. The Klingons had their asses handed to them by that same rogue Romulan ship—which is only going to make them push harder here, if only to deter any indications of weakness on their part.
He glanced over his new orders for the third time, “Detach the Vulcan-crewed starships. Provide a sufficient escort for return transit to Sector 001.”
This recall would seriously hamper his ability to perform the functions necessary to this mission. More than half the star fleet was in this one trinary system and he was still short-handed. Still, he understood Command’s point. The Vulcan species qualified for “endangered” status now. Every Vulcan in the Federation was apparently being recalled to Earth, where the provisional Vulcan government had set up operations.
“Provide a sufficient escort…” he muttered. How nice of Command to leave the number of starships to send his decision. He couldn’t sacrifice more than three if he wanted to preserve fleet security and maintain an effective deterrence.
He couldn’t delay the inevitable for much longer.
He tapped the button for the direct line to communications. “Lieutenant?”
“Yes, sir?” replied his communications officer. Sara Johannson. Excellent officer.
“Get me Captain Wesley of the Beowulf. I need to speak with him.”
“Right away, sir.”
****
Robert Wesley wondered how this day could get any worse. First, Engineering reported a problem with the reactors—some sort of feed problem in the injectors; then he’d received word from Archer IV that his sister was getting a divorce; and now communications reported that Commodore Nogura wanted to speak with him.
“Pipe it down to my quarters, Ensign.”
“Aye, sir.”
He glanced in the mirror, making sure his tunic was straight, and then activated his monitor. A second later, a very attractive blonde came onscreen.
“The commodore will be with you shortly, Captain Wesley.” she said, flashing a very nice smile.
He decided against a friendlier acknowledgement and went with, “Understood.”
A few seconds later Commodore Nogura appeared onscreen. “Hello, Rob. How’s the day going?”
“The usual, Commodore.” he lied.
“Good to hear.” Nogura hesitated a few seconds then added, “I have new orders for you. And I’m afraid they come with grave news.”
Wesley nodded, while simultaneously thinking that this was par for the course.
“In addition, this information is considered classified for now. You are now under orders not to disclose this information to anyone other than your executive officer—for now. ”
Wesley nodded again.
“Approximately two standard days ago Vulcan was destroyed by what looks to be a boat-load of terrorists.”
Wesley sat deathly still for a second, unsure of what he had just heard the commodore say to him. Surely he had heard incorrectly—but the look on Nogura’s face told him otherwise.
“Commodore, excuse my language, but how in Hell did a terrorist group destroy one of the core worlds?!”
“That’s information I don’t have, Captain. But there is more. It was a group of Romulans. And they attacked Earth.”
Many things thundered through Wesley’s head, but only one phrase kept coming to mind. Oh, Jesus Christ. Oh, Jesus Fucking Christ.
“Command advised me that this will be announced at some point on the Federation News Service. At that time, the classified nature of this will no longer apply. Your orders are to escort our Vulcan-crewed medical ships back to Earth along with the Concord and Kumari. You’re senior, so you’ll be in overall command of the task force. Command wants them protected at all costs. Preliminary estimates are that less than 25,000 Vulcans are left.”
Wesley managed to compose himself long enough to say, “Understood, sir.” A thousand different questions crossed his mind, but he knew the commodore didn’t have time to answer one captain’s questions.
“Good luck, Rob.” Nogura said. Not adding, You’re going to need it.
**Note: The movie naturally took a bit of creative license in depicting the time frame between the end battle with Nero and the launch of the Five-Year Mission. I've expanded those few minutes out to be several months. During which I envision the Enterprise being repaired, Kirk attending some form of command school, etc.
With all that out of the way, enjoy!
****
Laurentian Star System
Stardate 2258.06
0934 hours
Commodore Heihachiro Nogura sat dumbfounded in his ready room onboard the USS Arabia. Vulcan? Gone?! Great Bird help us all. We didn’t need this—not another crisis. The Federation was already on edge with the problems in this system. This damn “border dispute” with the Klingons had gone on long enough, and now the Romulans decide to attack?
He shook his head, trying to throw of his worries and his speculation. The report from Starfleet Intelligence had concluded that the Star Empire had not sanctioned the attack on Vulcan or Earth. Still—rogue Romulans—operating their own agenda that just so happened to eliminate the one species the Romulans might hate worse than Terrans—he didn’t buy it.
He had five fully Vulcan-crewed civilian medical starships in his hastily assembled fleet. How many of those Vulcans lost their entire families in this—attack? Atrocity? Holocaust? What the hell do you call the almost-extermination of an entire species?
Come on Heihachiro! Focus. You still have your own mission in this system. The Klingons had their asses handed to them by that same rogue Romulan ship—which is only going to make them push harder here, if only to deter any indications of weakness on their part.
He glanced over his new orders for the third time, “Detach the Vulcan-crewed starships. Provide a sufficient escort for return transit to Sector 001.”
This recall would seriously hamper his ability to perform the functions necessary to this mission. More than half the star fleet was in this one trinary system and he was still short-handed. Still, he understood Command’s point. The Vulcan species qualified for “endangered” status now. Every Vulcan in the Federation was apparently being recalled to Earth, where the provisional Vulcan government had set up operations.
“Provide a sufficient escort…” he muttered. How nice of Command to leave the number of starships to send his decision. He couldn’t sacrifice more than three if he wanted to preserve fleet security and maintain an effective deterrence.
He couldn’t delay the inevitable for much longer.
He tapped the button for the direct line to communications. “Lieutenant?”
“Yes, sir?” replied his communications officer. Sara Johannson. Excellent officer.
“Get me Captain Wesley of the Beowulf. I need to speak with him.”
“Right away, sir.”
****
“Pipe it down to my quarters, Ensign.”
“Aye, sir.”
He glanced in the mirror, making sure his tunic was straight, and then activated his monitor. A second later, a very attractive blonde came onscreen.
“The commodore will be with you shortly, Captain Wesley.” she said, flashing a very nice smile.
He decided against a friendlier acknowledgement and went with, “Understood.”
A few seconds later Commodore Nogura appeared onscreen. “Hello, Rob. How’s the day going?”
“The usual, Commodore.” he lied.
“Good to hear.” Nogura hesitated a few seconds then added, “I have new orders for you. And I’m afraid they come with grave news.”
Wesley nodded, while simultaneously thinking that this was par for the course.
“In addition, this information is considered classified for now. You are now under orders not to disclose this information to anyone other than your executive officer—for now. ”
Wesley nodded again.
“Approximately two standard days ago Vulcan was destroyed by what looks to be a boat-load of terrorists.”
Wesley sat deathly still for a second, unsure of what he had just heard the commodore say to him. Surely he had heard incorrectly—but the look on Nogura’s face told him otherwise.
“Commodore, excuse my language, but how in Hell did a terrorist group destroy one of the core worlds?!”
“That’s information I don’t have, Captain. But there is more. It was a group of Romulans. And they attacked Earth.”
Many things thundered through Wesley’s head, but only one phrase kept coming to mind. Oh, Jesus Christ. Oh, Jesus Fucking Christ.
“Command advised me that this will be announced at some point on the Federation News Service. At that time, the classified nature of this will no longer apply. Your orders are to escort our Vulcan-crewed medical ships back to Earth along with the Concord and Kumari. You’re senior, so you’ll be in overall command of the task force. Command wants them protected at all costs. Preliminary estimates are that less than 25,000 Vulcans are left.”
Wesley managed to compose himself long enough to say, “Understood, sir.” A thousand different questions crossed his mind, but he knew the commodore didn’t have time to answer one captain’s questions.
“Good luck, Rob.” Nogura said. Not adding, You’re going to need it.
Last edited:
Here come the Klingons. It appears they've decided they'd rather die on their feet than live on their knees. This will doubtless be an all-or-nothing venture for them, which makes Commodore Nogura and Major West's positions all the more tenuous.
