I know this sound's awfully familiar but I finally have the story down this time, I promise. This will be third and final incarnation of my Star Trek/Avatar story. Either I finish this one or I won't.
This is set a few months after the events of Star Trek: Enterprise episodes "Demons" and "Terra Prime" as well as the novel The Good That Men Do as well as the Avatar: The Last Airbender episode "The Boiling Rock".
Prologue
Where Men Have Gone Before
"Watch ye therefore, for ye know not when the master of the house cometh."
-Mark: 13:35
The Starfleet vessel Columbia swooped through an ominous region of space. This corner of the universe had many names. The Klingons, for example, called it Klacht D'Kel Bracht. Humanity, on Earth at least, called it the Briar Patch.
The Columbia was a deceptively ungainly looking vessel, with a main hull that looked like a giant had squished two poorly made tea saucers together, attached some metal struts and stuck lit cigars in metallic foil on the end. However, she sailed gracefully through clouds of brilliant orange and red, the colors of fire and blood. The ship looked like a puny insect in comparison to the clouds, and the dangers of this region could crush them like one.
The bridge crew was setting a course to a newly-discovered system, when Captain Erika Hernandez stepped onto the Columbia's bridge. Settling into her black leather command chair she took a moment to listen to the reassuring thrum of the warp engines reverberating through the hull before getting down to business. "Report," she ordered.
Hernandez's ship had been charting this area of space for weeks now, preparing for the war against the forces of the Romulan Star Empire everyone back home knew was coming. This was "technically" part of her orders, but she preferred to see it as fulfilling their original mission, to explore strange new worlds and seek out new life and new civilizations. To go where no man had gone before.
It was the ship's science officer, Commander Asha Naidu, an Indian woman in her mid-thirties that answered her from her science station on the port side of the bridge. "One star in the system, sir, G-Type. One world in the system, M-Class. With a hint of curiosity in her voice, she said, "with a moon that is remarkably similar to Luna."
"On screen," Hernandez ordered, her interest piqued. The viewscreen built into the wall in front of the bridge changed to show a moon that looked similar to Luna in every respect, right down to geography. As she gazed upon the sight, she imagined she could see Tycho City, New Berlin, even the majestic dome-enclosed expanse of Lake Armstrong.
"Show me the planet," the Captain ordered. The image on the viewscreen changed to show the planet. Her breath caught in her throat. She was staring at a big blue marble with white whisps of cloud and capped, almost lovingly, with ice like her homeworld. There was a huge main continent. It appeared to be in the middle of the geologic process of splitting into three smaller landmasses, she could see the splits from here. It gave the primary landmass a look a lot like that of a huge crustacean with even larger claws reaching out to consume the smaller brown islands that surrounded.
"How big is the main continent?" Hernandez asked urgently, eager to hear the answer to the question.
Commander Naidu looked into the hooded viewer at her science station. After a few moments she stood up and looked at her, saying, amazement in her voice, "Roughly the size of Gondwanaland, sir."
Hernandez whistled in amazement. She was about to order the survey teams to the surface when she was interrupted by a sensor alarm that rang from the tactical console on the port side.
"Sir," the tactical officer, Lieutenant William Gleason, said from his station starboard of Herandez's command chair, surprise in his voice. "We're picking up a Romulan warship bearing 145 mark 54."
After a moment of shock, wondering how the Romulan's were able to sneak up on them, the Captain ordered the viewscreen to show the Romulan vessel. Accordingly the image changed to reveal a green, horseshoe crab shaped vessel coming at them. The incoming enemy vessel had upswept wings on either side that were tipped with curved warp nacelles that glowed green at the ends. The vessel lunged with the terrifying speed of a raptor streaking towards an unfortunate rat.
Captain Hernandez urgently called out, "Tactical alert!" Instantly the lights dimmed slightly, red lights started blinking on every bridge panel, and muted versions of the alarms blaring throughout the ship rang through the bridge.
"The enemy vessel is powering disruptors, sir," Gleason said, fear lacing his voice. Then another alarm rang off the console. "They're firing."
"Evasive maneuvers," Hernandez ordered, standing up. "Delta sequence." Even as she said it she watched as two green blasts lanced from the enemy vessel. She watched the viewscreen pitch to starboard as the ship lurched violently to avoid the enemy fire, the ship's inertial dampeners maintaining the illusion that the ship was still flying straight. "Return fire," she ordered.
"Aye, sir," the tac officer replied, his hands playing along his board as if it were a musical instrument, and he its grand master. In an instant it sang back its response. Two angry red beams of light lanced out at the Romulan ship, striking her directly in her main hull.
"Direct hits," Gleason said, sounding satisfied with his work. Then he let loose with a frustrated sigh. "Minimal damage." The console blared out it's alarm again and he said, "They're returning fire."
It was as if the hammer of some ancient god had struck the Columbia, which jolted with a gut-wrenching intensity to the right. In those few moments before the inertial dampeners could compensate for the pummeling the ship had just undergone, the crew felt the deck disappear out from under them. Hernandez flung out her left arm, acting on instinct, but she watched the deck rush toward her, and knew it couldn't help. She felt a bone-jarring pain rip through her head when she collided headfirst with the warm deck with a sickening thud. Her last sensations of her bridge before the darkness claimed her was the sight of her helm officer lying unconscious in front of her, the young woman's panel ablaze, and the acrid smell of smoke filling the air.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Columbia hung in space in the skies above the world, a terrible, smoking wound in her back, heralding the great ship's impending destruction. The Romulan bird-of-prey streaking away into the dark vacuum of space had wounded her mortally, hitting her in just the right place to guarantee her destruction when her protective hull refused to polarize. It left her heart, her warp core, the device that allowed her to traverse the stars, exposed. As her killer raced away, half the saucer broke apart, hull plating shearing away. Launching from the exposed sections of the vessel, like the teeth of the dragon, were dozens of cylindrical objects, carrying the crew of the dying vessel away. For an instant they hung in space, floating among the wreckage of the ship. Then automated engines blared to life on them, sending the pods hurtling through the space between the ship and the planet, heading for the main continent. An instant later, Columbia flared in a burst of orange and crimson light as the explosion of the warp core ripped through her superstructure.
Most of the pods had managed to speed away before the ship's final, violent demise, their tough hulls protecting the precious lives inside from the heat of re-entry. However a few pods hung there for an instant too long, speeding away from the wreckage too late. The wake of the explosion shoved those pods away from their fellows, straight toward the island chain. Straight into the jaws of fire.
This is set a few months after the events of Star Trek: Enterprise episodes "Demons" and "Terra Prime" as well as the novel The Good That Men Do as well as the Avatar: The Last Airbender episode "The Boiling Rock".
Prologue
Where Men Have Gone Before
"Watch ye therefore, for ye know not when the master of the house cometh."
-Mark: 13:35
The Starfleet vessel Columbia swooped through an ominous region of space. This corner of the universe had many names. The Klingons, for example, called it Klacht D'Kel Bracht. Humanity, on Earth at least, called it the Briar Patch.
The Columbia was a deceptively ungainly looking vessel, with a main hull that looked like a giant had squished two poorly made tea saucers together, attached some metal struts and stuck lit cigars in metallic foil on the end. However, she sailed gracefully through clouds of brilliant orange and red, the colors of fire and blood. The ship looked like a puny insect in comparison to the clouds, and the dangers of this region could crush them like one.
The bridge crew was setting a course to a newly-discovered system, when Captain Erika Hernandez stepped onto the Columbia's bridge. Settling into her black leather command chair she took a moment to listen to the reassuring thrum of the warp engines reverberating through the hull before getting down to business. "Report," she ordered.
Hernandez's ship had been charting this area of space for weeks now, preparing for the war against the forces of the Romulan Star Empire everyone back home knew was coming. This was "technically" part of her orders, but she preferred to see it as fulfilling their original mission, to explore strange new worlds and seek out new life and new civilizations. To go where no man had gone before.
It was the ship's science officer, Commander Asha Naidu, an Indian woman in her mid-thirties that answered her from her science station on the port side of the bridge. "One star in the system, sir, G-Type. One world in the system, M-Class. With a hint of curiosity in her voice, she said, "with a moon that is remarkably similar to Luna."
"On screen," Hernandez ordered, her interest piqued. The viewscreen built into the wall in front of the bridge changed to show a moon that looked similar to Luna in every respect, right down to geography. As she gazed upon the sight, she imagined she could see Tycho City, New Berlin, even the majestic dome-enclosed expanse of Lake Armstrong.
"Show me the planet," the Captain ordered. The image on the viewscreen changed to show the planet. Her breath caught in her throat. She was staring at a big blue marble with white whisps of cloud and capped, almost lovingly, with ice like her homeworld. There was a huge main continent. It appeared to be in the middle of the geologic process of splitting into three smaller landmasses, she could see the splits from here. It gave the primary landmass a look a lot like that of a huge crustacean with even larger claws reaching out to consume the smaller brown islands that surrounded.
"How big is the main continent?" Hernandez asked urgently, eager to hear the answer to the question.
Commander Naidu looked into the hooded viewer at her science station. After a few moments she stood up and looked at her, saying, amazement in her voice, "Roughly the size of Gondwanaland, sir."
Hernandez whistled in amazement. She was about to order the survey teams to the surface when she was interrupted by a sensor alarm that rang from the tactical console on the port side.
"Sir," the tactical officer, Lieutenant William Gleason, said from his station starboard of Herandez's command chair, surprise in his voice. "We're picking up a Romulan warship bearing 145 mark 54."
After a moment of shock, wondering how the Romulan's were able to sneak up on them, the Captain ordered the viewscreen to show the Romulan vessel. Accordingly the image changed to reveal a green, horseshoe crab shaped vessel coming at them. The incoming enemy vessel had upswept wings on either side that were tipped with curved warp nacelles that glowed green at the ends. The vessel lunged with the terrifying speed of a raptor streaking towards an unfortunate rat.
Captain Hernandez urgently called out, "Tactical alert!" Instantly the lights dimmed slightly, red lights started blinking on every bridge panel, and muted versions of the alarms blaring throughout the ship rang through the bridge.
"The enemy vessel is powering disruptors, sir," Gleason said, fear lacing his voice. Then another alarm rang off the console. "They're firing."
"Evasive maneuvers," Hernandez ordered, standing up. "Delta sequence." Even as she said it she watched as two green blasts lanced from the enemy vessel. She watched the viewscreen pitch to starboard as the ship lurched violently to avoid the enemy fire, the ship's inertial dampeners maintaining the illusion that the ship was still flying straight. "Return fire," she ordered.
"Aye, sir," the tac officer replied, his hands playing along his board as if it were a musical instrument, and he its grand master. In an instant it sang back its response. Two angry red beams of light lanced out at the Romulan ship, striking her directly in her main hull.
"Direct hits," Gleason said, sounding satisfied with his work. Then he let loose with a frustrated sigh. "Minimal damage." The console blared out it's alarm again and he said, "They're returning fire."
It was as if the hammer of some ancient god had struck the Columbia, which jolted with a gut-wrenching intensity to the right. In those few moments before the inertial dampeners could compensate for the pummeling the ship had just undergone, the crew felt the deck disappear out from under them. Hernandez flung out her left arm, acting on instinct, but she watched the deck rush toward her, and knew it couldn't help. She felt a bone-jarring pain rip through her head when she collided headfirst with the warm deck with a sickening thud. Her last sensations of her bridge before the darkness claimed her was the sight of her helm officer lying unconscious in front of her, the young woman's panel ablaze, and the acrid smell of smoke filling the air.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Columbia hung in space in the skies above the world, a terrible, smoking wound in her back, heralding the great ship's impending destruction. The Romulan bird-of-prey streaking away into the dark vacuum of space had wounded her mortally, hitting her in just the right place to guarantee her destruction when her protective hull refused to polarize. It left her heart, her warp core, the device that allowed her to traverse the stars, exposed. As her killer raced away, half the saucer broke apart, hull plating shearing away. Launching from the exposed sections of the vessel, like the teeth of the dragon, were dozens of cylindrical objects, carrying the crew of the dying vessel away. For an instant they hung in space, floating among the wreckage of the ship. Then automated engines blared to life on them, sending the pods hurtling through the space between the ship and the planet, heading for the main continent. An instant later, Columbia flared in a burst of orange and crimson light as the explosion of the warp core ripped through her superstructure.
Most of the pods had managed to speed away before the ship's final, violent demise, their tough hulls protecting the precious lives inside from the heat of re-entry. However a few pods hung there for an instant too long, speeding away from the wreckage too late. The wake of the explosion shoved those pods away from their fellows, straight toward the island chain. Straight into the jaws of fire.
