Star Trek: Encounter (TNG Reboot, Kelvin Timeline, ST09 Crossover)

Discussion in 'Fan Fiction' started by KyleRaynous, Apr 8, 2017.

  1. KyleRaynous

    KyleRaynous Lieutenant Commander Red Shirt

    Apr 8, 2017
    And so, I formally present myself before this community. My name is Mauro, I'm 23 years old and I'm from Argentina. A year ago, I started this project in the form of a movie screenplay. Its purpose is to continue from where Beyond left and continue along the road that I'll establish. I know I won't get far with it (I've been looking for ways and methods to get some sort of agent or something like it, and I even have in mind to participate in a competition), but still I think it's worth a shot.

    At the moment, the only thing left for me is to wrap up the final act. Still, I decided to share with you the beginning of this story, in form of a novel (my apologies in advance for any possible translation and formatting issues, all kind of feedback is welcome). Throughout the month, I'll post the rest of it. If nothing happens with my script (a 99.9% probability scenario), I'll share with you the whole story on the last quarter of the year. Patience is a virtue, you know? xD


    Synopsis: One hundred years after the destruction of Enterprise-A, Captain Jean-Luc Picard faces his greatest challenge yet: to command the Federation's brand new flagship, the Enterprise-D. In the midst of a new impasse in the endless war with the Romulans, mistrust, deceit and lack of commitment on both sides undermine the possibility of achieving peace. To make matters worse, disloyal movements on both sides pave the way for a new confrontation. The crew of the Enterprise-D will not only have to overcome these adversities, but also a series of events that could change the development of their lives and the fate of the galaxy itself...

    The purpose of this story is to reimagine the TNG era in line with the new Kelvin universe. Therefore, events of this history will have many parallels with those of the prime universe, though around a completely different context (the "Encounter" between the two crews was conceived in line with "Yesterday's Enterpise"). You'll recognize similarities with the plots of some episodes, and at this very beginning you'll find a parallel with a well-known episode of TOS, as well as many connections with one of my favorite movies around their crew.

    PDF: Prologue + Chapters 1 & 2 (

    - PROLOGUE -

    he countless billion of inhabitants of the Milky Way didn't know their fate was being debated by existences above their compression, withdrawn in their own society, on their own plane of existence far from any lower form of life. These higher beings lived in a continuity that had existed since before time was such. They were able to contemplate all the magnificence of the great tapestry that was the universe, from the big picture itself to the smallest and seemly insignificant details. They had truly gone where no one had gone before…

    Yet, they did nothing but observe.

    It didn't matter how wonderful was what they had experienced, or how seemingly evolved they were. Like every other living being, they were tied to an existential dilemma. Stability or change. Even in their infinite wisdom, these beings continued to face fundamentals issues in black or white terms. To submit to the status quo had allowed them to stretch their existence for countless eons, without no apparent end on the horizon. And when they tried to challenge this constant, they paid the consequences. Their interactions with mortals had proved counterproductive. In their attempts to assist them, to raise them to a higher plane of existence, they had failed. For these lesser beings misinterpreted their actions and the effects these had on their lives. These insignificant life forms could not see beyond their own noses, beyond their own limited perception of time and space.

    But those who inhabited the continuum did.

    In their extended lifespan, they had observed a cycle that was perpetuated with each new sequence. Is not as if it had affected them, since their existences developed far from any consequence this cycle could bring to them. But, in contrast, mortal beings succumbed to them. Something had to change. What guarantees did they have this cycle would not end up affecting them, eventually? For although they could see the future, it was always constant in motion. The mere prospect of extinction plunged several beings in this society into the shadow of doubt.

    One of them took a stand.

    He came from a relatively inferior strain within the society. His aggressive and radical stance had captivated his peers, although it had brought frequent headaches to his superiors. But the subordinate thrived. A hearing was granted to him, along with the opportunity to present his case to the most prominent members of his society. The stage itself was beyond the understanding of any lesser life form, since the perception of reality of these higher beings wasn't limited to a single plane of existence, nor a fixed time line or sensations tied to mere bodily stimuli. In the end, to describe it would be an incomplete exercise, a futility. His words, of course, could be understood perfectly. They had to be heard. He had to be heard.

    "The fate of the universe is at stake once again," this bold life form said, firmly. "We can't afford to remain motionless to these events. We must act."

    One of his superiors questioned him, "To do so would violate our principles, threaten our very existence." He was a very influential member within this society. If he could persuade him to take the matter into his own hands, he could fulfill his propose, achieve his mission.

    "So should we let events take their course, perpetuating the cycle?" the subordinate added, with emphasis. "No. The cycle must come to an end".

    "And jeopardize all our progress, everything that we have built? Unacceptable," the superior said, strict. The subordinate had to raise the bet.

    "What is unacceptable is our passive attitude," he said. In addition, he shared with his peers a picture of the universe, one particular moment in its prolonged existence, a small brushwork of the grand masterpiece. One recognizable even for inferior forms of life like ours. On it, there was a formidable mining vessel, aggressive in its aesthetic and power. It came from a different time, from a possible future. Facing it, there was a much more insignificant vessel, of simple design and weaponry, conceived in order to explore the confines of the universe rather than engage in combat. That ship had no possibility to overcome the beast it was about to confront. "Our lives were shaped by all that has ever happened to us, what we learned from these events and our reactions to them. So were theirs."

    "And you want to put the fate of us all in their hands?" the superior questioned, one more time. "That's a dangerous gamble." It wasn't going to be easy to convince him. In response, he shifted the picture into that of a once glorious world, full of wise and peaceful creatures, being consumed by their own invention, the result of their future scientific investigations. Such irony, the subordinate said to himself.

    "Not a gamble, but a test," he replied, sharp. He wasn't going to back down. The picture he shared then was from a different time and place. It was the interior of a ship. A bald captain was being restrained by two officers. The captain had tried to get loose, desperate, but his men managed to pull him out of the area. In front of them, there was a corpse. The captain seemed to recognize its identity. "If they set aside their differences, their insecurities, their fears, they will succeed."

    "¿And if they don't?" the superior asked. He'd never trust in such insignificant creatures, left alone entrust them his own existence. It wasn't as if the subordinate did. He believed those savage creatures had no remedy. But he saw potential in some of them. It was a risk, of course, but so was his own extinction.

    The subordinate decided to alter the picture once again. This time, there was a bearded man, his hand resting on the window of what appeared to be some kind of shuttlecraft. He looked disconsolate, perhaps because of the near explosion and the lives lost in that incident.

    His answer was as clear as it was blunt, "They'll be destroyed."

    None of those present was able to hide their concern at such a dire prediction, even less when what they observed became an apocalyptic scene. In front of what was once a beautiful blue planet, there was a floating space construction. Countless explosions had consumed what little remained of her. Those responsible for such a vile act, two giant dark cube-shaped vessels, had moved towards the gloomy planet, its atmosphere dense and polluted. The planet had been alienated, corrupted by these relentless machines of assimilation.

    The subordinate knew such an outcome was inevitable, hence his attempt to persuade his superiors to take action. For his own destiny was tied to that nefarious future. "After all, that's their fate, one way or another..."

    Chapter One


    UFP Stardate 1034.21 (02 June 2264)

    For a brief moment, all the majesty of space was overshadowed by one single object. The glow of a nearby star glinted off the pattern of Aztec decals highlighted above its hull plates, which together shaped the saucer of a starship. The flash of light made its way swiftly toward the bow end of the saucer, sparkling over the ship's registration number: "NCC-1701-A". The USS Enterprise-A was heading majestically towards her destination, a not so distant planet. Its nacelles looked firmer than those of her predecessor, with a more rectangular shape although shorter. Its joints to the secondary hull were moved forward, giving the appearance of being more integrated to the whole structure, as well as extending the distance between the nacelles.

    However, not all the changes during its refit were limited to a matter of aesthetics. Although the USS Vengeance had been the result of a development conducted outside the regulations of Starfleet, its technological advances had been remarkable. The Enterprise incorporated a series of minor protuberances to the sides of the stardrive section. Hidden in between, powerful phaser cannons were added. Other minor lumps were placed over the top of the neck, on both sides, bellow the reshaped impulse engines. A necessary reinforcement after the incident with the swarm ships, which also served as an opportunity to relocate the shield generators, taking energy directly from the Warp core in conjunction with the navigational dish. The joints between the nacelles and the secondary hull had also been reinforced due to the same reason.

    Gone were the days of subtleties and kind intentions. The impending war with the Klingons had unnerved many members of the high command. Additional phaser banks were placed over the saucer, along special sensor equipment in its outer circle. A not so subtle way to compensate for this newly aggressive stance taken on Constitution-class starships. Yes, the Enterprise-A was now a vessel fully equipped for combat, with state-of-the-art weaponry, shields and sensors. Supplementary Kelvin pods were also located along the saucer and the ventral starboard section in case the circumstances prove to be adverse. A ship that was best avoided rather than confronted. Unfortunately, all her glory was obscured by the battle that took place on the planet's orbit, which involved no less than four alien ships, tiny in the distance.

    Inside the refitted flagship of the Federation, three men were on their way to a turbolift, walking down a corridor at a quickstep amid a red alert condition. The sound of the digital alarm Klaxon was accompanied by the flickering panels and the dimmed lights, which barely revealed the striking colors of their uniforms. The discussion they had had in the briefing room seemed to have left more doubts than certainties among them. But at least for Dr. Leonard McCoy, the situation was quite clear.

    "Jim, there are millions of lives hanging on what we do," McCoy said, working to keep pace with his friend.

    "Or on what we fail to do, Bones," Captain James T. Kirk answered. The state of affairs was very delicate. While it was necessary to take some kind of action, an inadequate movement could prove counterproductive. A man of his experience understood this perfectly.

    "You're talking about getting us into conflict with the Romulans," McCoy added. Jim new his friend, a doctor, would never find himself interested in causing a bloodbath. "War should never be something imperative."

    Commander Spock cut in. "It is for them, Doctor. We can't show any sign of weakness given their martial philosophy." The Vulcan had his principles very clear, firm and sharp as the tips of his ears. The most prominent members of the Enterprise crew arrived at the turbolift. Once inside, the doors closed. The advanced transportation system was set in motion, as well as the argument among its occupants. "We had our aggressive colonizing period," Spock added. "They are an offshoot or our blood, therefore, attack becomes something imperative."

    McCoy was genuinely stunned. "I can't believe what I'm hearing, much less coming from you. Where's your so called logic? You're letting your personal experience with them cloud your judgment!"

    "And I believe your overflowing emotions are taking the best of you, Doctor," Spock replied. "You should really learn to conquer them."

    "I won't listen to the advice of a green-blooded goblin looking for a damn intergalactic war!"

    Dr. McCoy's reaction surprised Kirk himself. The captain decided the best he could do was to pour oil on troubled waters. It was more than obvious Spock still held a grudge against those who snatched the life away from the vast majority of his race, including his own mother. Kirk couldn't help feeling sympathetic, even if such feelings were clearly mislead. At the same time, the doctor was one of the human eminences when it came to demonstrate his emotions, something Vulcans aspired to suppress at any cost, fearing its negative effects. Jim took a deep breath and let it go slowly. "Let's better not fly off the handle, shall we?" he said, as the lines on his forehead grew deeper. "All I hope is that we won't need your services this time, Bones."

    "Amen to that," the doctor joked. Yet, McCoy wasn't precisely known for being optimistic. "But in the worst case, I'll be at Sickbay."

    The turbolift finally arrived at its destination. The doors parted with a soft hiss as Kirk and Spock set foot on the bridge of the ship, while McCoy chose to stay inside, heading back to the infirmary. Amid the ambience sound of the switches of the consoles being pressed, Spock headed to his usual science station, coming across several officers at their stations working under a certain degree of pressure, understandable given the situation they were facing.

    Kirk, meanwhile, occupied his characteristic seat, the captain's chair. Right in the center of the bridge, he had a complete picture of the men in his charge, not to mention a privileged view toward the main viewscreen. "Lt. Uhura, report," he asked, once on his seat.

    "We've just arrived at Kithomer," the young female lieutenant replied, posted at the communications console, with her long dark hair tied at the back of her head forming a ponytail, "the class M planet from which the distress call was originated. I guess there's no need to mention that we're in violation of Treaty."

    "Only on exceptional circumstances a starship crosses the Neutral Zone, Lieutenant," Kirk answered. "Not to mention there wasn't any other nearby, as usual."

    "It appears I'm not the only crew member who finds a good exercise in reminding you of Starfleet regulations," Spock added. Jim wasn't displeased by this. His Vulcan friend knew better than anyone else he was one of those people who didn't necessarily play by the book.

    Kirk exhaled heavily in mock frustration. "I suppose you're not." Then, he turned his attention back to his communications officer. "Have you already reported the situation to Starfleet Command?"

    "Yes, Captain," Uhura replied. "It was duly noted that in your opinion there was no other alternative, and that you have assumed full responsibility." Kirk nodded at Uhura, satisfied. It was necessary to make this kind of clarification to avoid future disputes. Jim didn't want to be punished for doing the right thing.

    On the meantime, Spock gazed at the readings on his console. He took his time, double-checking the information before briefing Jim. "Captain, sensors indicate three Klingon Cruisers near the planet's orbit," the Vulcan officer said. "They're facing a large Romulan vessel, no matches on any recorded profile. The cruisers are sustaining heavy damage."

    "Visual," Kirk asked. Given the proximity of the battle, he should already be able to see with his own eyes what was going on with this mysterious vessel.

    The viewscreen revealed the shape of the ship that was responsible for all the commotion. Every single member of the crew laid their eyes on her. None of them was able to hide their astonishment at such a machine of destruction. Hikaru Sulu, in charge of the helm of the ship since the baptism of its predecessor, stopped working in his console for a few moments. Next to him, the young ensign Andrew Stiles, the new conn officer, gazed over his controls in awe. It had been only a couple of weeks since he'd joined the crew in place of the promising officer Pavel Chekov, now transferred to another ship. Looking at something of such magnitude, Stiles may have wondered if he made the right choice for his career, perhaps for his own life.

    Kirk found himself up from his seat. "My god..." Jim lowered his chin, opening his mouth in amazement. The situation seemed more than his ship could handle.

    On the planet's orbit, three Klingon D7 class cruisers were struggling against the Warbird, performing an intricate, fast-moving ballet around the huge Romulan vessel, firing torpedoes, disruptors, any weapon that was at their disposal. But the shields of the Warbird held up. It seemed that energy barrier wasn't going to fall so easily.

    What was stranger, without any doubt, wasn't just the fact that the vessel was twice as large as the Enterprise, or nearly three times larger than the Klingon cruisers. It was her design. Jim found it a little disturbing. Although never before the Federation had encountered a Romulan ship, except for the Narada and her particular case, the information they had on Romulan ships dictated something completely different. This one had a prominent forward section, a sort of "head", bulkier than its rear segment, resembling two separate "wings" that met at either side of what appear to be her warp nacelles. Both parts were linked by an open-shell section composed of two parallel hull segments. That ship seemed out of place, almost out of time. Jim thought the whole situation was very similar to the Kelvin's encounter with the Narada. He just hoped the result would prove different.

    The stardate system I established corresponds to a personal attempt to blend the two already existing styles. The first segment (103) corresponds to the number of years since the founding of the Federation (2151), hence the acronym UPF. The second one (4.21) corresponds to the percentage of the year elapsed (42.1% = 153 days), maintaining part of the spirit of the original format.
    Last edited: Apr 28, 2017
    Danlav05 likes this.
  2. admiralelm11

    admiralelm11 Commander Red Shirt

    Jan 17, 2009
    Vancouver, WA
    Interesting so far.
  3. KyleRaynous

    KyleRaynous Lieutenant Commander Red Shirt

    Apr 8, 2017
    While the Klingon ships insisted on their attempts to cause some sort of damage on the Warbird, the powerful Romulan vessel began unleashing a small fragment of her devastating arsenal, countering the Klingons' weapons with her powerfull phaser disruptors, concentrated bolts of energy sweeping away the shields of the cruisers. Two torpedoes were launched from the Warbird's bow chamber, impacting both the port nacelle and the bulbous head of one of the Klingon vessels.

    The gloomy bridge of the IKS Check'lw was shaken abruptly by this impact. Klingon officers were flung from their stations onto the deck, their instruments blowing out as several systems collapsed. The captain of the cruiser, Gorkon, son of Toq of the House of Martor, clung to his seat as if it were the only solid structure on the entire bridge. In his more than ten years in command of the vessel, Gorkon had never experienced such an exasperating situation. The odor of burnt metal and singed plastic flooded his nostrils. It was not a smell that particularly affected him, but it felt different on that occasion. Perhaps his senses were somehow affected by the prospect of never seen his daughter Azetbur again.

    No. He was a Klingon. Dying on the battlefield was honorable, not to mention the chance to meet Kahless the Unforgettable in the afterlife. That was a good way to die. His daughter and her offspring would be proud. He couldn't be carried away by silly sentimentalism. Away from these thoughts, his mind returned to the matter at hand. His ship was being massacred and he still had a mission to fulfill.

    "Damage report," he asked.

    "Warp engines offline," an officer replied. "Several damage on decks twelve to fifteen."

    "Divert auxiliary power to weapons and engines," Gorkon said. "We must concentrate their fire on us to give time for the evacuation of the planet."

    "Sir, sensors are picking up a Federation Vessel, Constitution-class," another officer interjected. "They're hailing us."

    A Federation ship? What were those humans doing in Klingon territory? Gorkon couldn't put his finger on it. Since their irruption in Qo'nos, tensions between their two races were constantly escalating. It was even rumored that soon the Klingon Empire would officially declare war on them. "On screen," he replied to his officer. Their presence in that sector was something he couldn't simply ignore.

    On the main viewscreen, a human face appeared. "This is Captain James T. Kirk of the Federation Starship Enterprise-A," the human male said, a lock of his side parted shiny brown hair protruding over his forehead. "We intercepted a transmission from your colony calling for help."

    Gorkon was struck by the bright and elegant bridge behind Kirk. Such a stupid thing to waste time in decorations and aesthetics. It was nothing like the aggressive and dimly lit design of his own bridge, which strangers might associate with a freighter rather than a combat ship. Not even the captain's chair was sufficiently detached from the seats of his subordinates, unlike his, on a raised platform with an unobstructed view of the main screen. How would they respect that man if he lowered himself to their level? Gorkon had encountered Federation ships in the past, but none of them looked like this one.

    "This is Captain Gorkon," he answered firmly, pulling out his best human accent. "The situation is under control. You must obey treaty stipulations and remain outside the Neutral Zone, Captain. We can handle this situation ourselves."

    Worry lines deepened on Kirk's brow, coupled with a hesitating grimace. "Allow me to defer from your judgment, Captain, because I doubt that's the case. It's our duty as Starfleet officers to assist you in a situation like this."

    "If you open fire on a Romulan vessel, it could be interpreted as an act of war," Gorkon added, equally confused. What the hell was he thinking? It seemed this human didn't know how to measure risks.

    "The consequences of our actions is something we can handle ourselves, Captain," Kirk replied. "Besides, we're in your territory. They were the ones who violated the treaty in first place."

    Gorkon couldn't hold back his laughter. Was he stupid or brave? The captain knew these two concepts were more associated than most people thought. Still, he couldn't help being pleased at his presence. Gorkon cast his amused gaze at the floor, smirking. "A human with courage. I wish I had encounter more men like you, Kirk." He fixed his eyes on the handsome captain of the Federation, making up his mind. "The Romulan Warbird disabled the planet's defenses by firing some high energy plasma pulse at it, and then initiated a massive orbital bombardment. We managed to stop them, but our ships can barely hold against that beast."

    Another powerful jolt. Gorkon wanted to curse the Romulans in more than a dozen languages, something he surely could have accomplished. In recent years, he had begun to find a certain appeal in the arts of diplomacy. Diplomacy. That was a concept apparently oblivious to the Romulans. Recently, the Klingons had shared with them the design of their D7 cruisers, or so his people were told. Gorkon suspected something different had happened. He heard rumors of powerful houses within their society that sold those designs looking for the support of the Romulans in face of the imminent war against humans.

    Gorkon was furious, his aggressive tone matching that sentiment. "Those traitors! We shared our technology to end up being stabbed in the back. They're nothing but cowards who lack of honor!"

    "Maybe another ship could help turning the tides," Kirk said. And he was right. The priority was to evacuate the colonists from Khitomer. Millions of Klingon lives were in danger. Gorkon couldn't afford to ignore any kind of help. At least on that occasion, he had to place his trust in humans.

    The face of the captain of the Klingon ship disappeared from the viewscreen, not without nodding in agreement first, allowing the Federation ship to take action on the matter. As Kirk turned around and went back to his seat, he couldn't stop thinking about Gorkon. His few encounters with the Klingons left a bad taste in his mouth, but this man seemed strangely reasonable. "Mr. Stiles, call battle stations," Kirk ordered at the young ensign. "Mr. Sulu, set a course towards the Romulan vessel."

    "Already on it, sir," the Asian helm replied, already working the instruments of his console.

    At that moment, the Enterprise-A turned in an intercept course, ready to join the dispute against the Romulans. Kirk's gaze remained fixed on the screen in front of him. The captain observed the Klingon attack pattern, machining in his head some form of strengthening it with the presence of his ship. He was so deep in thought he hardly heard the ensign performing the characteristic call to battle stations.

    "All decks acknowledge, sir," Styles said. And that was all he heard of it.

    At the science station, Spock made fine adjustments at his controls as he studied the results from his latest scan. The Vulcan officer frowned, worried at the results before his eyes. He had to notify Jim as soon as possible. "Captain, I'm picking up high concentrations of tetryon particles moving toward us from behind."

    "Moving?" Kirk asked. Astrophysics wasn't his strongest subject.

    "Those subspace particles typically have a random momentum and definitely not behave in such a way." the Vulcan officer explained, turning towards him. "That's why sensors often fail to detect them."

    Kirk set his mind on it. The pattern described by Spock sounded like something artificial. That meant some sort of unknown object might be moving behind the Enterprise, perhaps attempting to approach her from behind. Approaching. His throat seized shut on a knot of fear and despair, instinctively realizing what was about to happen. "Redirect power to aft shields," he ordered, nervously attempting to sharp the edge of his voice. "All hands, brace for impact!"

    In that precise moment, the space behind the Enterprise seemed to distort on itself. Another Romulan Warbird emerged from empty space, silent, firing phaser bolts from her cannons and torpedoes that struck all over the Federation ship's hull. Almost as fast and stealthy as the Romulan ship was revealed, it vanished, leaving nothing but distant stars in sight.

    After the massive shock wave, all the eyes on the bridge of the Enterprise turned to the captain. Spock stared at his friend, surprised. He even raised an eyebrow at his prowess. "Good call..." Of course it was. Jim himself could barely understand what was happening.

    "Instinct, experience, and one hell of a science officer..." Kirk replied, smirking at Spock. The Vulcan, as seemingly modest as ever, wasn't flattered. Still, Jim couldn't help feeling that sudden stroke of luck wasn't going to last for long. Had a camouflaged ship just attacked them? Since when Romulans vessels were capable of doing that? First of all, it was necessary to know the condition in which his ship was after the attack.

    "Damage report," he asked, turning his eyes up front.

    "Shields at forty-three percent," Sulu said, gazing at the report over his panel. "Moderate damage on both primary and secondary hull. I don't think the shields can withstand another burst of those weapons."

    "How were the Romulans able to create such an efficient cloaking device?" Stiles said, confused. Jim wondered the exact same thing.

    "Invisibility is theoretically possible, Mr. Stiles," Spock replied, bringing some clarity to the subject. "It's a matter of selectively bending light. However, the power cost to maintain it on an object of such magnitude should be considerable."

    Spock's mention of the energy consumption required for such a feat made Kirk think about the Romulan vessel. "The ship became briefly visible when she fired," he analyzed, incisively. "It would have been smarter to stay hidden while firing, unless that's not possible for them." His assessment of the situation seemed correct. However, he had to come up with some sort of response at such threat. "Mr. Sulu, hard to starboard," he ordered. "Energize phasers. We'll have to fire blind."

    "You want us to attack without a visible target?" Sulu answered, in disbelief. "How could we possibly aim our phasers?"

    "We could try to aim with our sensors," Stiles intervened. "We wouldn't achieve accurate shots, but-"

    Sulu prevented him from elaborating his idea. "Enough for a lucky shot before they return fire?"

    "It's not like we have many options, gentlemen," Kirk said, leaving little room for debate. "Besides, the ship should still be at range."

    It had only been a few minutes since the Romulans attacked them. Her twin's impulse speed didn't seem superior to any other Federation vessel. It was logical to assume not only that she was still around, but also she'd probably attempt another attack. "Lay a pattern, Mr. Sulu," Kirk commanded at the helm. "Stand by photon torpedoes. If we can hit part of their ship with phasers, maybe we can direct the torpedoes at that location."

    "Aye, captain," Sulu answered, as he operated the instruments of his console. Even if he disagreed, an order from his captain was an order. "All weapons to full power." It seemed as though the battle had barely begun.
    Last edited: Apr 28, 2017
  4. KyleRaynous

    KyleRaynous Lieutenant Commander Red Shirt

    Apr 8, 2017
    For a few minutes, the halls of the Enterprise seemed to come alive unexpectedly. Crew members ran desperately through the corridors, hurrying to occupy their respective stations at the time of the battle. In the torpedo bay, the powerful projectiles were loaded into their chambers, ready to be launched. In the phaser control room, officers occupied the various available gunpits, settling themselves into their seats while adjusting their seat belts, ready to operate the controls in front of them, accompanied by displays that light up with the arrival of their occupants.

    At the same time, hidden compartments in the Enterprise's saucer revealed relatively small phaser banks rising before the call to battle. The powerful discontinuous cobalt energy discharges began to follow one after another, with an increased rate of fire and of varying intensity given the new layout of turrets. Some of them were composed of multiple barrels with an automatic system that allowed firing phaser bolts immediately after kickbacks. Others required a timeout to recharge energy and re-trigger.

    Yet, no matter how powerful and magnificent these weapons were, they failed to hit anything but stardust. Nevertheless, that wouldn't stop them. The shots were relentless and their effort was eventually rewarded. A couple of phaser bolts struck some sort of electromagnetic field, whose distortions revealed small segments of what looked like a starship. The torpedoes, neither slow nor lazy, were launched from the forward chamber, heading vertiginously to where the phasers had previously impacted. The projectiles hit the head of the Warbird directly into its hull, unsuspectingly devoid of shields.

    From his console, Spock followed the deployment of the Enterprise's weapons. While he believed the Romulans merited warlike responses to their warlike provocations, he had never approved the modifications performed on the ship. Where had that old-fashioned notion of peaceful exploration gone? Was the decline of Vulcan presence in the Federation proportional to the increase in its participation in conflicts? Even with all this line of thought in mind, what most attracted Spock's attention was the lack of shields of the Warbird when receiving the impacts of the torpedoes.

    His voice wavered as he informed the captain, "Moderate damage on their... primary hull." Spock turned to Jim, confused, "It's strange. The amount of damage received would suggest their shields were not operational during our attack."

    "Well, you said it yourself," Kirk replied. "In order to maintain their camouflage, they must require an enormous level of energy consumption, not being able to maintain their shields up." Jim's explanation seemed logical. In effect, Spock was right in theorizing about the consumption of power with these type of camouflage. However, he expected more than a mere stroke of luck. As far as he knew, the Romulans were not characterized as neglected. Their very attack on the Klingon's colony took the aliens by surprise. How did they achieved that? Perhaps the subspace particles he had identified earlier could bring some clarity to the matter. Of course, this wasn't the time to conduct such investigations.

    "Captain, they're raising their shields now," Sulu said, hastily. "They are also locking phasers and torpedoes on us!"

    "Evasive pattern beta-four, now!" Kirk ordered, equally desperate. Just like Spock assumed, that wasn't the right moment to set his mind on it.

    Chapter Two


    The Warbird abandoned any kind of subtleties. The huge Romulan vessel casted away its camouflage and adopted the protection of its shields, while making a pronounced arc to position itself on the port side of the Enterprise. Furious, the Warbird unfolded all its arsenal, swiftly swooping the shields of the Federation ship whit a withering rain of emerald phaser bolts, coming from a series of turrets layered out over its wings. Its disruptor banks, placed in the lower part of the head, achieved direct strikes on several decks, mostly along the Federation vessel's neck.

    In a secondary sickbay, McCoy was helping an officer to move medical supplies out of the area. Other officers were either carrying injured comrades on their shoulders or helping those who, given their condition, could only be moved employing gurneys. The thing was, everyone wanted to leave that place as soon as possible. And the reason was quite clear. The port bulkhead was severely damaged after the Warbird's merciless attack. The entire deck was compromised, and if no one could establish a force field around it immediately, the whole place would go to hell in a matter of minutes.

    "We gotta move everything to the main sickbay before it's too late," McCoy said to one of the nurses he was assisting.

    "Warning: Hull compromised," a digital feminine voice said, talking over hidden speakers and reminding everyone of the imminent danger. "Immediate evacuation of the deck advised."

    As if I hadn't noticed. If it were not for the rush of the situation, McCoy would have made a comment on how sensual that voice sounded. Perhaps if his ex-wife had a voice like it, he would have been more tolerant of her, although the outcome would prove the same. If anything prompted McCoy to join Starfleet was the prospect of being as far away from her as possible. Hell, even a battle with the Romulans was preferable to the mere thought of seeing her again.

    When the port bulkhead of the medical complex began to break apart, McCoy thought perhaps he was wrong about the Romulans and his ex-wife. The alleged solid structure began crumpling like foil, shattering into pieces as it was sucked away into the vacuum of space, along the air and equipment inside the infirmary. The relatively small size of the hole decreased the violence of the decompression, allowing McCoy to hold on to a fixed structure while catching the hand of an unsuspecting cadet in the process.

    But as the hole in the hull began to widen, McCoy lost all hope. The cadet's hand began to slide away from his, the doctor struggling to hold on to his very life. McCoy made one last effort, but it wasn't enough to prevent the cadet from slipping away from his hands, the young officer being sent tumbling into the cold and unforgiving space. McCoy himself was saved by the delayed force field, which finally decided to show up to settle over the hole.

    Once standing, the doctor contemplated the disorder and desolation of his workplace, while sprinklers on the ceiling suppressed the fire of some equipment that collapsed in the midst of decompression, the violent torrent of air fanning the flames. A flow of fresh air poured into the partially depressurized area, allowing McCoy to have a moment of relaxation. The doctor's lungs contracted and relaxed as Leonard exhaled heavily, dejected.

    But the ship shuddered and trembled all around him, since the battle was far from finished. McCoy had no time to mourn the loss of that man or to afford to catch a break. There were still injured crewmen who could use his talents elsewhere on the ship.

    The situation in engineering was far from being different to that of the rest of the ship. Debris left by damaged equipment and crates loaded with supplements were scattered all over the place. Crewman evaded the white-hot gas emanating from the pipelines that extended across the entire area, hurried to resume their tasks and prevent the heart of the ship from collapsing, although they found themselves oftenly pushing through other men who always seemed to be in the way along the narrow catwalks.

    Among those officers, Lieutenant Commander Montgomery Scott, chief officer of the engineering department, was making an effort to prevent the young and intrepid Jaylah from falling down the side of a catwalk, huge fixed tanks behind him imposing themselves in what was the anteroom to the massive complex of the Warp core. Scotty's effort paid off. The chief engineer was able to lift the young humanoid, her huge bright eyes showing gratitude in contrast to the fierceness of the black marks on her pale white face.

    "There ya go, lassie," Scotty said. Jaylah was standing next to him. "Glad to be actin' ensign aboard the most ridiculously radge ship in the entire galaxy?" he asked her, his Scottish accent and slang emphasizing before such a desperate situation. "Maybe that wee man and Chekov did well to get tae france out of here." Scotty couldn't help but think of his old comrade Keenser, the male Roylan who was surely annoying some other chief engineer on a different Federation ship in some distant corner of the galaxy.

    "A home is a home, Mont-gommry Scotty," Jaylan answered. Since she was already fluently speaking his language, Scotty often wondered if she kept talking to him like that as a way of displaying her affection. "I would hate it to break like the last one."

    "That's why we are here, wummin," Scotty said. "To keep it flying."

    "Mr. Scott, are you there?" Kirk's voice was heard in the distance, crackling over the ship's internal emergency communications system. Immediately, Scotty and Jaylah descended from the catwalk to the deck's ground level, heading for a comm console.

    "Captain!" Scotty answered, just as he reached the console.

    "Scotty, how are things looking down there?" Kirk asked.

    "Not good at all, sir!" Scotty answered, gushing. "We have no shields and the anti-matter containment fields are failin'. I cannae guarantee she'll hold up much longer!"

    "Divert auxiliary power and prevent that core from blowing us into space," the captain ordered. "Kirk out."

    "Auxiliary Power!" Scotty sounded a little surprised. "Sir, what do you think I've being-" The communication was being cut. "Sir?" he tried one more time.

    Indeed, communication was broken. Scotty was outraged. Did that man forgot to consider for a moment that he had already done something about it? Nor was it as if the ship produced auxiliary energy out of thin air.

    "Ya... Ya glaikit bastart!" Scotty was beginning to lose his temper. "Is not as if the auxiliary power would last forever!" After letting go of his frustrations with a heavy sigh and a slump of his shoulders, the chief engineering officer thought it'd be appropriate to return to duty. He pointed something at Jaylah, "Put that lever down. Let's see if I can really work out some miracles."

    As the cadet headed toward the lever he had pointed at her, Scotty went back to the catwalk that stretched all over the area, right in front of the tanks. There was little doubt for him. Only a miracle would pull them off such a difficult situation.
    Last edited: Apr 27, 2017
  5. KyleRaynous

    KyleRaynous Lieutenant Commander Red Shirt

    Apr 8, 2017
    Ready to make another pass, the towering Romulan Warbird deployed all the power of its single impulse engine to reach the Enterprise, hovering behind it from starboard to port like an eagle ready to catch its prey in its claws. The Federation ship concentrated all phasers in the head of the Warbird in a desperate attempt to stop it. But the Romulan vessel answered the fire with its own powerful torpedoes, impacting on the dorsal side of the Enterprise's saucer, near the bridge. With no shields in the way, the explosions caused considerable damage to the integrity of the hull, an emerald-colored conflagration consuming part of its plates.

    The tremor on the bridge was brutal. Overhead lights went dark. Sparks began dancing on the overloaded consoles, some of them exploding due to the sudden and brutal charge they received, belching acrid smoke and going dark for good. The Enterprise's inertial dampers collapsed to the point that both Stiles and Uhura were abruptly removed from their stations and hurled to the deck. Kirk himself was unable to cling to his seat, banging his head against the floor. He felt the cold soft touch of the deck's surface on his forehead cut, and then a blaze of pain. As soon as he was able to get back on his feet, Jim noticed what was happening around him seemed like a nightmare, not only because of the situation itself, but because of how his senses reacted. Time seemed to blur, the images before him foggy and confusing. The voices around him were crying out for orders or for help, sounding like distant echoes, weakly overcoming the ringing in his ears, an annoying high-pitched sound which didn't seem to cease.

    "Warning: Power grid failing," the female computer voice said. "Life support systems compromised. Pod bay offline."

    Half-recovered, Kirk ran erratically to where Stiles was. Even if the distance was short, every step he took seemed about to throw him back to the ground. Once at his side, Jim tried to provoke some kind of reaction in the ensign, his body sideways and his face hidden from Jim's gaze. "Mr. Stiles! Mr. Stiles!" he yelled at him. There was no reaction. Jim was forced to turn his body towards him. "Andrew, get up! We need to-"

    Jim's heart stalled for a moment. Stiles's face had bruises and severe burns all over it. His eyes were looking forward, fixed, almost inert. The expression on his face itself was terrifying. Then, Jim checked his pulse, placing two fingers on his carotid.

    He's dead. The captain of the Enterprise swallowed hard. His heart began to stir as a suffocating tightness in his chest made breathing difficult. Once again, the events around him seemed endless, his senses still altered by the shock of the moment. Jim gazed at Spock, who left his station to join Uhura. Shrapnel from the console blast had scraped some of the brown skin of her beautiful face. Meanwhile, McCoy entered the bridge through the turbolift flanked by a group of medical officers. All over the place, the sprinklers extinguished the flames that regurgitated over the damaged consoles. Then, Jim's eyes settled on Spock, whose gaze met the captain's. He was afraid. The look on his face was one that Jim had never seen in the Vulcan before.

    It was then that Kirk realized his face embodied the same fearful expression. He didn't know what to do. The ship he had commanded so proudly over the last year was falling apart, as it had already happened to her predecessor. Had some sort of evil curse fallen on the ships under the command of men named Kirk?

    The voice sounded like a distant echo of the past in his mind. "You of all people should know, Cadet Kirk. A captain cannot cheat death." Jim remembered that moment an place, where who later would become his best friend was questioning his own actions.

    "I don't believe in no-win scenarios." Jim had answered, challenging. What a fool he was.

    "Whatever our lives might have been, if the time continuum was disrupted... our destinies have changed," Spock had said. Those words were pronounced shortly after the first encounter of the Enterprise with Nero. Kirk thought for a moment about the concept of fate. As he feared, the situation in front of him was very similar to the one his father faced before dying.

    McCoy's voice pulled him sharply back into the moment. "Jim, Jim! We need you here, dammit!" Kirk hadn't noticed the doctor crouching beside him, nor the nurses in front of him taking care of Stiles's dead body.

    Jim blinked his eyes back into focus as he tried to get back on his feet, with some difficulties. McCoy offered his help by extending his arm. "I'm fine, I just need a second," Kirk said to him, making an effort on his own.

    "Well, you don't have one," the doctor said, once more offering his outstretched hand. "Let me see if you-"

    "I said I'm fine, Bones," Jim replied, forthright.

    Anger put an edge on McCoy's voice. "No, you're not." The doctor pulled out a handheld diagnoser, then checked the captain's vitals with it. As he gazed at the readings, a disturbed grimace twisted Leonard's mouth. "You're suffering from a neurogenic shock. You must have a trauma in your spinal cord," McCoy kept the device. "May I remind you that your miraculous resurrection had its consequences? You're lucky your brain damage is limited to a minor alteration of your sensitivity."

    As usual, his friend was right. During those minutes in which Kirk was clinically dead, after suffering a lethal dose of the Warp core radiation during Khan's attack on Earth, his inert body wasn't adequately preserved. Kirk knew he was placed in some sort of stasis, but not until McCoy discovered the potential in Khan's blood to save him.

    McCoy pulled out a hypospray syringe and fired it on Kirk. "Here. It's an injection of atropine. It should do for now." But McCoy didn't seem entirely satisfied. He looked at Jim's eyes, as he said with a reproving tilt of his head, "I should pull you out of here as your Chief Medical Officer, but there are too many things going on here and we both have jobs to do."

    Kirk shrugged. "As long as my hands don't start growing unexpectedly…"

    The doctor stood up with a tired sigh and shook his head, his arm helping Kirk to his feet. As Leonard returned to perform his duties, Jim went back to the captain's chair. Once seated, he took a few seconds to digest the situation. There wasn't much to do. This was his fate, even though it wasn't the one he expected. But, in the end, who was he to complain about it? Another insignificant life form in a universe so vast and infinite that he could never hope to understand? There was no time for such nonsense. He could only deal with what was in front of him, what he could see and understand.

    With that in mind, Jim took a deep breath as he slammed his hand down on the intercom button of his chair. "This is the Captain," Kirk said, sharpening the edge in his voice to mask his deepening concern. "I'm initiating General Order 13. All hands must evacuate this ship immediately. Get to your designated shuttles. We're trying to divert power to the pod bays so we can get it back online."

    As the deck beneath his feet shuddered, Jim cast his forlorn gaze at the floor for a moment, exhausted and wishing that day was over once and for all. After all, he was facing what could very likely be his last day in command of the Enterprise.

    Kirk's voice echoed in every corner of the ship, no matter how distant or how small it was. "I repeat. All decks, evacuation protocols have initiated. Proceed to exit bays and report to your shuttles. Stand by for pods."

    In engineering, everyone was hurrying toward the Shuttle Bay, except for Scotty and Jaylah, pointing out the path to follow as they moved in the opposite direction. There were still tasks to be done to keep the ship afloat and, as chief engineer, Montgomery was not going to entrust this responsibility to anyone else but himself. Suddenly, a thunderous roar knocked him off his feet, falling on his knees. Jaylah, who had managed to stay upright, helped him rise.

    "I cannae believe this is happenin' again," Scotty said, grumbling. "I wonder how many bloody letters of the alphabet we'll waste on ships carryin' the name Enterprise."

    The crew members who arrived at the hangar rushed towards the transports. Security officers were bringing some order to the process, arranging the crew to board the right shuttles. Once inside, the Federation officers adjusted their safety harnesses, seated opposite to each other. All they wanted was to get out of there.

    As the docking clamps snapped back, the shuttlecrafts took off from starship, their small impulse engines igniting as they began moving towards the force field, the huge entrance gates retracted on both sides. But going through it didn't guarantee their safety. The Romulan Warbird was relentless. Some of her turrets unfolded their phaser bolts against the shuttles, knocking down a few of them in the process. The phasers of the Enterprise were overshadowed by the firepower of the Warbird. It was impossible for the Federation vessel to intercept every single shot coming from its Romulan foe. Many shuttles were left to their fate.

    Back on the bridge, Spock moved to the navigation station, occupying the seat Stiles left after his death. The Vulcan didn't have time to think about Lieutenant Uhura. No matter the differences he had with McCoy, the doctor was an impeccable professional to the point where Spock admired him, in his own way. Nyota didn't need him at his side at the time. She needed him on the bridge, trying to get the Enterprise to carry out her mission.

    Like all Vulcans, Spock had learned to suppress his emotions. But his human half always looked for a way to get afloat. It was in those moments he regretted his inheritance, although his father's words helped him endure those problematic situations. "You will always be a child of two worlds," Sarek had said to him, back when he lost control of his emotions over his mother's death. "I am grateful for that. And for you." Spock was to honor the memory of his mother and his human heritage. And, more importantly, he should be proud of himself.

    "Mr. Sulu," Kirk ordered, "set a collision course towards the Romulan vessel. Target the auto-pilot to the head of that thing. Their shields won't stand the impact of another ship."

    "Sir..." Sulu said, nervously, as he turned to Kirk. "The auto-pilot is offline. Manual operation only."

    There were times when humans used to say that it was impossible for someone else to know what they were going through. But Spock knew exactly what Kirk was thinking. Jim was facing the same situation his father went through at the time of his birth. A painful memory, though the example could lead him to cope with the current situation.

    "I'll pilot the ship myself, Captain," Sulu added, bravely.

    "No, Mr. Sulu. I'll do it," Jim used that strict tone once again. There was no way to contradict him afterwards. "You should get to your shuttle before it's too late." Jim looked around the bridge. "Everyone should. That's an order."

    "With all due respect, sir, I'm going nowhere, nor is the rest of the crew," Sulu replied. The young lieutenant always came up with a way to prove his worth. "If you want to, you can record my act of disobedience in the ship's log."

    Emboldened by Sulu's words, no crewman on the bridge dared to move from their seat. Spock saw their faces, exchanging glances and smiles that did nothing but hide the panic they were felling at that moment. Even so, the Vulcan was sure that Jim would welcome such a gesture. His crew was not going to abandon him, not even in the face of certain death.

    "I'm afraid I'll have to include this massive act of disobedience in the official report," Kirk joked, smiling, "though I still don't fully understand the new stardate system..."

    Spock merely raised an eyebrow. Not that he wasn't touched by their reactions. He simply found himself once more struggling to understand the actions of the humans, particularly when facing extreme situations. "Human stubbornness never ceases to amaze me," he commented, "Yet, I do find certain nobility in such actions." Spock measured his last words carefully. The crew had to respond according to circumstances. In his experience dealing with humans, a wrong word could bring down their entire morale. In fact, his last words provoked a positive reaction in the faces of his comrades. Kirk himself seemed more determined than before.

    "Set the course, Mr. Sulu," Jim said. "We still have a mission to accomplish."

    The helmsman nodded, as he began punching data into his console. So did Spock. The Enterprise still had something else to say in that battle.
    Last edited: Apr 28, 2017
  6. KyleRaynous

    KyleRaynous Lieutenant Commander Red Shirt

    Apr 8, 2017
    Not far from where the battle was taking place, several Klingon evacuation crafts seized the opportunity to withdraw at Warp speed, moving away from the endangered planet that once gave their inhabitants shelter and prosperity. But when the ghost of the war prowled a colony, the preservation of its population came first.Many Klingons left behind their homes, their jobs, all their hopes and dreams. But not their desire to survive. Even if it seemed inconceivable at the time, they still had a whole future ahead of them. Their families could settle down somewhere else in the galaxy, their offspring giving birth to a whole new generation of their kind.

    Every minute the Klingon cruisers endured the attacks of the Romulan Warbird they were battling, was more than valuable time for the transports. Yet, the cruisers were not indestructible. Their shields had a limit of resistance, as did the construction materials of their hulls. Not even all the duranium in the universe could prevent one of the three vessels from exploding into a thousand pieces, fully engulfed in a blazing glow as it perished before the firepower of the Warbird. But only the most skillful helm of the galaxy could change the course of Gorkon's vessel, about to collide with the debris of her sister fallen in combat. The few remaining shields she had left held as the wreckage of the destroyed cruiser slammed into its hull, although the main mass was evaded by the cruiser's remarkable maneuver.

    The bridge of the ship lurched and twisted. Flaming consoles were turned off by sprinklers on the ceiling. Officers in the area operated their instruments with desperation, trying to respond with an almost inhuman speed of reaction to the circumstances before them.

    "Sir, life support's running out," one of them said to his captain, his eyes fixed on his console. "Artificial gravity failing. Diverting auxiliary power to-"

    Gorkon slammed his chair stand with fury. "NO! We need to concentrate our fire on that vessel. All that matters is the colony being evacuated. Keep firing on that damn thing!" The mission was top priority for Gorkon. His safety and that of his crew was below the colonists' at the moment.

    But the passion of his convictions weren't enough. The Warbird fired a full volley of torpedoes that hit the nacelles of the IKW Check'lw. A fiery conflagration of plasma erupted from the ship's decimated Warp coils of one of them, the integrity of the remaining one severely compromised. The kinetic energy wave of the explosion careened the ship helplessly into space, its head tilted down in face of the Romulan ship. With two D7 cruisers out of combat, everything was left in the hands of the only Klingon vessel in conditions to fight. Yet, its chances of surviving that battle on its own were nonexistent.

    In another corner of the orbit of Khitomer, the Enterprise and the other Warbird were exchanging fire relentlessly, phaser bolts flying between both ships and hissing like striking snakes. The saucer of the Federation ship was badly damaged, smoke and flames emanating all over its shattered hull plates. But the few batteries that still operated normally didn't give up. They couldn't afford to do it. The minimal damage they wielded on the Warbird's shields coupled with the skillful maneuvers of the ship itself were the only things that kept the Enterprise standing. However, there was still the issue of torpedoes. A series of open gates on either side of one of the top decks ejected missiles that, once launched, shattered into a spray of small projectiles whose electromagnetic signal attempted to divert the Romulan torpedoes away from their target. A countermeasure that had been recently installed in Federation vessels, serving as the last line of defense in the absence of shields.

    The corridors of the ship seemed gloomy. The lights flickered, sparks jumping from inert panels due to massive power failures. With a slight hiss, one of the magnetically sealed doors opened before the presence of three crewman, who ran into a corridor. Dr. McCoy was carrying on his shoulders a wounded Uhura with the help of a cadet. Since the turbolift network had ceased to operate, the three officers were forced to use the stairs between decks, in the old fashioned way. Given the general evacuation, few officers were prowling the halls whose floor was filled with debris and mounts of twisted metal.

    "Hold on a little more, Uhura," McCoy said. "We're almost at engineering."

    Leonard's words were unfortunate. Amid a thunderous roar, the corridor shuddered, part of the ceiling collapsing. McCoy and the cadet were hurled against the port bulkhead, while Uhura landed on the deck, her right leg pinned under some rubble. Shattered fragments from the roof tore through her uniform and lacerated her forearms. Nyota made an effort to remove the heavy steel beam over her leg, but it was all in vain. McCoy, noticing this, rose as quickly as he could, right at the same time as his assistant did. Both officers rushed towards Uhura, struggling with the pain.

    "Help me with this, cadet!" McCoy yelled at his assistant.

    The medical officers employed all their strength to lift up the beam, the grimaces on their faces reflecting the tremendous effort. But it was too heavy for them. Timely, both Scotty and Jaylah showed up at the scene. It was not like Leonard complained about their presence, but he didn't expected to see them around.

    "Shouldn't you two have already evacuated?" McCoy asked, some vestiges of reproach in his voice.

    "I was told that you do not leave your friends behind," Jaylah answered.

    "Well, I would," Scotty joked, "if it wasn't by the fact someone has to put order amid this bloody chaos!"

    Fully committed to the task at hand, the four officers took advantage of their number and managed to raise the beam a few centimeters above Uhura's fragile leg, for McCoy to free it from under the rubble. The others let go of the beam, exhausted after the physical exigency, their hearts pumping blood as they caught their breath. McCoy helped Uhura to her feet, staring at what stood before them. The tanks on the upper level led to the huge Warp core structure, tiny in the distance. Once there, only a few more meters to the Shuttle Bay. The doctor thought he could glimpse the end of the nightmare.

    Kirk's gaze was focused on the viewscreen, his arms clutching to his chair. He was wearing the crash harness above his chest, as were Sulu and Spock, both operating their consoles with an agility and pressure that many would envy amid the heat of battle. But the ship's systems were collapsing. While his men did their best to redirect the little energy available, Kirk could only think of two things. They needed to recover the escape pods to ensure the survival of a good part of the crew, and they needed the Enterprise to stay afloat and bring down the Warbird.

    "Keep working on that power grid, Spock," Kirk said. "There's still time for those pods to make it through." Jim regretted at the time the effort the ship's architects had invested in adding more escape pods. It was all for nothing.

    In front of him, the Romulan vessel seemed to grow larger with every passing second, dazzling blasts searing from the Enterprise's saucer as enemy phaser bolts answered the fire, ripping off hull plates without mercy. As the proximity and countdown displays were frantically dropping towards zero, the Warbird performed a desperate last minute maneuver, suddenly veering to port.

    "Captain, the Romulan Warbird is changing her course," Spock said, aware of the sudden development. "She appears to be drifting away from us."

    Kirk began punching commands directly into the control panel of his chair console, as he made the calculations in his mind. "Mr. Sulu, set course correction: bearing zero-two-five, mark three-four-two," he said to the helmsman.

    "Setting new course, Captain," Sulu said, his hands translating his captain's order into action on his console.

    A voice burst into the speakers, amid a moment of silence. Although weak and distorted by crackles of static, Jim recognized it immediately. "Kirk, you still there?"

    "Right here, Captain," he replied at Gorkon.

    "I knew you were alive."

    Stranded in space, the IKS Check'lw was drifting in the cold and silent void, fumes coming out of the openings of her hull as the ship stumbled upon her own debris. Lying on the deck of her bridge, Gorkon strived to remain alive while catching hold of the edge of the captain's chair, next to the communicator. Visibility was practically null due to the smoke and the absence of overhead lights, a few duty consoles glowing faintly as sole beacons in the darkness. Blood ran down the side of his face, crushed, severe burns splattered all over it. He struggled with the pain, wincing at ribs either bruised or broken while clinging to his life with nothing but his own willpower. The rest of his men had already given up, except for a couple of unfortunates whose moans composed a grim and sorrowful melody, its chords being the only thing that was heard along the shattered bridge.

    Gorkon's words followed each other like a long, choking whisper, "Such a shame that you and I met on this circumstances. We are both of a kind, you know? Warriors." The Klingon coughed blood and spat it out. He looked at his hand covered by the red substance emanating from his insides, fearful. His nose caught the scent of it, mingled with the stench of consoles' circuitry afire. He didn't have much time left. "Under different circumstances, we could've been good friends."

    Back on the Enterprise, Kirk listened intently to the words of the brave Klingon captain. A faint smile spread across his face. Indeed, he liked that man, and if the harsh and ruthless fate hadn't crossed their path, he would have liked to get to know him better. "Perhaps," Kirk replied, "But, we can't help it. This is all we have right now."

    "Our ancestors awaits us, Kirk," Gorkon muttered. Every word that came out of his mouth was weaker than the last. "There's nothing to be afraid. You'll be remembered with honor, and so will your crew. Dozens of songs will be made on your behalf."

    "Shame that none of us will ever get to hear any of them," Kirk said. In fact, Jim was never very attracted to the Klingon's need to frame every moment of transcendence or joy in their lives with a song or a cry to heaven. Although the idea that his prowess were remembered by forthcoming generations didn't sound so bad.

    "Indeed. Our race appreciate such acts, despite our differences." Gorkon croaked, as if he were about to drown on the blood that filled his mouth. He assembled the last of his strength to make sure his words were understood. "I know we have a long way to go, but I believe our people will understand each other one day. Our generation is going to have the hardest time if there is to be a brave new world, but anything is possible."

    "If we learn to trust each other, to cooperate, to set our prejudices aside. Maybe then we'll be able to build a bridge between our civilizations"

    Kirk could hardly believe the words coming out of his mouth. How long had the Federation been on the brink of war with the Klingons? How many misunderstandings, dishonorable intentions and conformisms from both side had undermined any chance of peace? And there he was. Joking with a Klingon captain about how the future would see what took place that day, dreaming of a coming age where both civilizations would coexist in peace. Kirk wondered why the previous encounters between the two factions had been so conflicting. Perhaps the fear of dying was the common point necessary to establish a basis of trust with each other.

    Dying. Kirk held back the tears in his eyes as he focused on the viewscreen, facing the terrible finality of his situation. The Warbird's maneuver would not be enough to evade the Enterprise, ready to ram her with the full weight of her saucer. His whole life didn't pass before his eyes as he expected. The only thing in his mind was the future he'd never have. His plans, wishes, his legacy... For the first time in his life, Jim regretted not having considered the possibility of raising a family. Sure, they would mourn his death and his hypothetical son would grow up without a father, just like him. But he didn't turned out so bad. With all his comings and goings, he had a decent life, a good one.

    And so, Jim Kirk closed his eyes. He didn't believe in life after death, but the possibility of seeing his father again was a good prospect. He felt sorry for her mother, who'd never see again the two people she loved most in the whole universe, but surely she could be proud of them. He also felt sorry for the officers who didn't make it out of the ship, hoping they could forgive him. But there was no time for apologies. Jim began feeling the warmth of white light at the end of the tunnel on his face, the great mystery revealing before him. He loosen his arms and legs, letting himself be carried away by the flow. His last mission was complete, as much as it was possible to him to do so.

    Whatever fate had planned for him, his time had come to an end...
    Last edited: Apr 28, 2017
  7. KyleRaynous

    KyleRaynous Lieutenant Commander Red Shirt

    Apr 8, 2017
    I have completed the revision of the prologue and the first act (now divided into two chapters), mostly improving the prose (I'm gradually loosening up when I use my English language) and adding some technical details of my version of Enterprise-A. I added a PDF to the first post, formatted in a similar style to an actual book (just let me dream, would you? xD).
  8. KyleRaynous

    KyleRaynous Lieutenant Commander Red Shirt

    Apr 8, 2017
    I have finished a simple illustration of the side view of the Enterprise-A described in this novel. If you want to see it, here is the link to the fan art thread:

    In case you wonder, I finished the script about a month ago. It's long, but since a movie with this plot should be over two and a half hours to have good character development and sufficient amount of time for interaction between crews, it's okay. Also, as you might imagine, I haven't had any luck in getting some agent or manager to take it a step further...
  9. Cy-Fox

    Cy-Fox Cadet Newbie

    Apr 27, 2012
    I'm getting vibes of Yesterday's Enterprise from this.