I've read the last three chapters. I agree your characters are some of the most 'colorful' around. I also like how the crew have really integrated holograms in every aspect. I certainly see the Caitian point of view. If the Federation can't find the wherewithal to defend one of their members, I can see that only reinforcing those like the Maquis who feel abandoned already by the Federation. I look forward to more!
Nothing like a couple of chapters of Slayd and the Dragonfire to get into the holiday spirit!! One of the dangers a large expansive body such as the Federation faces is the more isolated and far-flung frontiers. While the Klingon and Romulan borders get plenty of attention, places such as this are all too often forgotten while the devil himself plays.
Thank you all very much for your comments! My schedule has not allowed me much time for writing (or reading other stories). I hope to post the next chapter soon, but it may be after the first of the year. This story is a lot of fun to write and I'm looking forward to moving ahead to its conclusion.
TLR, it’s great to see Slayd & Company back in action. Seems there’s a lot going on at this particular outpost, very Mos Eisley indeed. Oh, and nice shout out there to the fracas in the E’Mdifarr system last year.
It has been nearly a year since I last posted a chapter of Dragon's Slayd. Sorry for the long delay, but I now have a clear path to the conclusion - which is still several chapters away. -TLR Chapter Nineteen Stardate 54368.5 (24 May 2377) Desola Station - Promenade Level As Chief Anaak checked on the condition of the stunned rabble-rousers (and fended off the squawking protestations of the Corona Mining officer), Lt. T'Lin noticed another disturbance in the crowd some distance away. The Security Officer hopped up on a table for a better vantage point - her keen Vulcan senses quickly picking up the cause of the uproar. Just rounding the curve past a bank of holo-suites were two Nausicans and three Humans shoving people aside as they hurried against the flow of pedestrian traffic. One of the Human's turned and looked back - making brief eye contact with T'Lin - before breaking into a run. His cohorts likewise began to pick up the pace. "Chief Anaak!" she shouted over the din and pointed. The Capellan turned, following the direction of her gesture. Without another word, Anaak began moving through the crowd - leaving the protesting Avian spluttering in surprise. Lt. T'Lin realized that even with his bulk and tenacity, Anaak could not catch up to their quarry. Without hesitation, T'Lin began leaping from table to table - moving with such grace and agility that she avoided spilling any of the seated patron's drinks (though she did hear more than a few choice epithets). Her elevated route of pursuit quickly played out, but not before she spotted the subjects exiting the promenade broadway via a door leading to the service corridor. Without breaking stride, she tapped her combadge. "T'Lin to Burke . . ." * * * Lazka Pumjir gazed somberly at Captain Slayd and Commander Nor Huren. For his part, Brian West tried to focus on the conversation without falling off the cushions - the after-effects of the Janx Spirits still doing a work on his sense of balance. "As I said, Artemus - I hear many rumors, most of which are not worth mentioning. But there are enough common threads which tell me that someone has been assisting the Tzenkethi in their cross-border raids." Slayd considered this. "And in these 'common threads' is there any mention of who?" The Pakistani station manager took a sip of his drink. "Understand, Artemus - this puts me in a precarious situation. If these people discover that I told you . . ." "You needn't worry about that," interrupted Slayd. "I believe we have a common goal of bringing these raids to an end, wouldn't you say?" Pumjir nodded. "Yes." He swirled the remains of the Janx Spirits in his glass before downing it in one large swallow. The act made Dr. West wince. "So?" Slayd's patience was wearing thin. "Captain, I once did business with these people of whom I speak - back before the war . . . before an idealistic movement turned into something dark and malevolent." "The Maquis." Slayd's voice was cold and toneless. Another nod. "After they attacked one of your ships in the E’Mdifarr Belt, I cut them off - refused to sell them so much as a sling-shot. They did not take kindly to my refusal." Lazka opened the front of his robe, revealing skin that was not the same shade of mocha as his arms or face. Ugly streaks radiated from the scar, indicateing the severity of the trauma. "Syn-dermis," exclaimed West. "May I?" Pumjir nodded, allowing the doctor to examine him as he continued to speak. "I was walking to my apartment one evening, shortly after I disassociated myself from the Maquis. Oversight of this station requires long hours, so it was about 2:30 in the morning - I was quite fatigued and ready for sleep. When I opened the door to my quarters, I remember a sudden flash of light - nothing more. I woke up in our medical bay three days later." "My compliments to your medical staff," said West. He turned to Slayd - "Disruptor wound - he's very lucky to be alive." "So said my personal physician," agreed Pumjir. "It seems that my rather excessive girth served to save my life. Dr. Krithon said the disruptor blast would have killed a smaller Human. As it is, I have no feeling along my chest and the scar resists cosmetic repair - neural and subcellular regeneration has failed. In other regards, I have recovered quite nicely. The scar is a small price to pay considering I am still able to draw breath." Captain Slayd nodded in understanding. "So the added artillery to the station . . . ?" Lazka smiled. "Not just for the Tzenkethi - no." "It would seem that our purposes are aligned, Lazka. It would also seem to me that any help you can provide us would serve to prevent another such attack on your person." "Perhaps. But as I said earlier - you are but one Captain and one ship. You cannot guarantee my protection, Artemus - nor would I expect you to." He paused and let out a long breath. "Still, I have considerable resources of my own. If you would be willing to cast a blind eye to my substantial arsenal, I believe we can cooperate against our mutual adversaries." Slayd raised an eyebrow as a smile formed on his lips. "Arsenal? I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about, my dear fellow." Pumjir's smile flashed with its full radiance. He held out his hand to Slayd. "I'm so very glad we had this chat, Artemus. Good to see you and your fine officers. We will speak again soon." * * * The fleeing Nausicans and Humans ran a gauntlet of pipes, old storage units, and other clutter that lined the narrow service corridor. The lighting was much dimmer here and the footing often treacherous. Their footfalls echoed in the enclosed passageway as they sought to elude the pursuing Border Dogs. One of the Nausicans, wheezing from exertion, paused behind a stack of power cells and withdrew a wicked-looking disruptor pistol. "Are you crazy?" exclaimed one of the Humans - a male in his mid-thirties with brown hair pulled back in a pony-tail. "We can't get into a shoot-out in here!" "Shut up, Haynes," snarled the Nausican, bringing the disruptor to bear on his cohort. "I will not be taken by them." "Then keep going - we can make it back to the ship if we . . ." A sudden ratcheting noise followed by a high-pitched whine made them both stop and turn. One of the other Humans - a gray-haired female, uttered a curse in her native Farsi. She pulled a phaser from her hip, only to be enveloped by a shimmering orb, accompanied by a deafening thunderclap. The woman flew backwards into a pile of moldering refuse, moaned lightly and was still. The Nausican turned his disruptor away from Haynes, only to be rewarded by being smashed against a pile of replicator parts by another thunderous, invisible hand. SCPO Paula Burke ratcheted the charge grip of her ARC and leveled it at the remaining three subjects as four other Border Dogs leveled their weapons. "Anybody else want some?" she growled. * * * Stardate 54368.9 (24 May 2377) USS Dragonfire Orbiting Desola Station Brig "This is quite a catch, Lieutenant - well done," remarked Captain Slayd as he surveyed the glowering prisoners ensconced in five separate cells. "We would not have succeeded were it not for Senior Chief Burke's timely response," replied T'Lin. "Indeed. Well done, Senior Chief," amended Slayd. "Nothing to it, Skipper," replied Burke, her ARC slung over her shoulder. "The Lieutenant steered 'em right to us. Two of 'em wanted to argue, but," she affectionately patted the riot gun, "I made them see the error of their ways." "Quite," remarked Slayd, dryly. The prisoners were known mercenaries with suspected links to the Maquis. Three had outstanding warrants, so the haul was doubly successful. "Standard interviews?" asked Lt. T'Lin. "For now. Let's see what we can find out - we'll hold on to the three with warrants and cut the other two loose in 24 hours." "Understood." "I'd like a moment with the prisoner in cell two," added the Captain, eliciting a disapproving frown from SCPO Burke. "Sir? I'd feel better if you'd let us handle this - he had a blade on him longer than his, um, well it was pretty damn long." "I appreciate your concern, Senior, but I've no doubt he's quite thoroughly disarmed by your thorough methods." "Yes sir." Burke still wasn't happy, but if the Captain wanted to have a solo chat with a prisoner, who was she to argue? "Lower force-field on cell two," ordered Slayd. The blue glow quickly vanished and he entered the cell. The human prisoner known as Jared Haynes glanced askance at Slayd as the Captain took a seat opposite the prisoner. As the force-field reactivated, Slayd spoke quietly. "You're taking quite a risk, Lieutenant." 'Haynes,' as the Starfleet Intelligence Operative was known to his mercenary cohorts nodded. "Can't be helped, Captain. I've got news you need to hear." * * * To be continued
It's good to see another story which appeared half dead to come back to life like this. With a bang too, as it were. This was one of my favorite non-Bluefin, Border Service crews and I'm looking forward to Slyad and crew in action once more.
Chapter Twenty Stardate 54368.3 (24 May 2377) USS Dragonfire Holding Station 78 km off Desola Station Sickbay Brian West lay on one of the bio-beds, a cold compress on his forehead, as he moaned softly to himself. How did I manage to have two hang-overs in one week? I don't even like to drink. He idly pondered this paradox as his head pounded and his stomach threatened him with extreme violence. "Doc? Anything I can do to help?" West opened one eye to see Chief Corpsman Tork peering at him. It seemed that the Corpsman did that a lot. "Are you wearing a phaser?" asked West. Tork's furry eyebrows shot up. "No." West sat up on swung his legs down from the bed, closing his eyes to the sudden vertigo. "Then you can't help." "Did someone mention 'help?'" asked Dr. Zimmerman, shimmering into existence. This time the EMH was wearing one of his eclectic golf outfits, complete with lime green slacks, a plaid sweater vest, and a visor cap with "Pebble Beach" embroidered on the front. "Go away," moaned West, dropping his face into his palms. "Hangover?" Zimmerman asked Tork. The Tellarite nodded. The EMH turned back to West. "You do know there are numerous programs to help you deal with alcohol addiction." West turned blood-shot eyes toward Zimmerman. "I'm not an alcoholic, I'm just . . ." "Three sheets to the wind," finished the EMH as he produced a bio-scanner and ran it over the young physician. Zimmerman frowned. "What did you imbibe? Reactor coolant?" "Worse," groaned West, surrendering to his dizziness and sprawling backward across the bio-bed. "It was something called 'Janx Spirits,'" Zimmerman and Tork exchanged a knowing look. "Ohhhh," they said in chorus. "Ohhh Gawwd," replied West as another wave of nausea passed over him. "Not to worry - I have just the remedy," remarked Dr. Zimmerman. He stepped over to the medical replicator. "Hangover remedy number four," he ordered. "Make it a double." The replicator dutifully produced a glass of softly fizzing liquid. Zimmerman took it and handed it to Dr. West who eyed it doubtfully. "What is it?" "Just a concoction to help offset the effects of the Janx Spirits." "I mean, what's in it?" pressed West. Zimmerman turned to Tork. "See - physicians do make the worst patients." "Hey - baldy! Answer the question." Zimmerman turned and huffed with indignation. "Well! You don't have to be rude." West fixed him with a murderous look. "Alright," sighed the EMH. "It's a simple mix of sodium bicarbonate, water, lemon juice, Neuroactaphin, whiskey and, um, Theragen." West looked at the glass and back at the EMH. "Really? And I thought euthanasia was illegal in the Federation." He wasn't shocked - in fact, he sounded somewhat hopeful. Zimmerman snorted. "Surely you know that the effects of the Theragen nerve gas are counteracted by the alcohol. This will settle your stomach and relieve the other side-effects, though I doubt seriously if it will cure your drinking problem." "I do not have a drinking problem," said West, slowly - enunciating each syllable. "Said the man with the hangover. Drink up - my tee time is in five minutes." * * * Brig Captain Slayd exited cell two, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Everything okay, Skipper?" asked SCPO Burke. By the tone of her voice, she was hoping for an excuse to administer her own personal brand of behavior modification on the prisoner. "Hmm? Oh, yes - fine, Thank you Senior Chief. Number One? Walk with me, please." Slayd and Commander Nor Huren exited the brig and made their way to the turbo-lift. As the doors slid to, Nor Huren lifted an eyebrow. "Well?" she asked. "Well, I am continually amazed by the courage of covert operatives, Katari - particularly those who infiltrate such unsavory groups as mercenaries and pirates." He shook his head. "Uncommon bravery." The Rigellian smirked. "Your admiration aside, did he tell you anything useful?" Slayd frowned. "Useful? Yes - quite. But usable, that's a different story." "Artie - are you going to tell me or am I going to have to beat it out of you?" The Captain grinned. "Now that's the sort of attitude that will keep you from becoming C-in-C one day. Yes, I'll elaborate once we reach my ready room. Hopefully, violence against my person will not be necessary. * * * Ensconced in the ready room and seated before a crackling holo-fire, Slayd spoke. "Our friend confirmed what Lazka intuited - the Maquis have been involved in the Tzenkethi raids." Nor Huren bristled. "Bastards. What the hell happened to them, Artie? - I could almost sympathize with them over the issue with the colonies along the Cardassian border. At least back then the Maquis wasn't involved in murder and terrorism." "Apparently the Maquis fragmented into various cells just before the Dominion War broke out. Several of their more noble members left and rejoined Starfleet shortly after the outbreak of hostilities. Considering the losses we faced, most of them were given pardons and allowed to return to active duty. But there was always an underlying segment in the Maquis with darker motives. Some cells are still causing grief in the Occupied Cardassian Territories - a form of revenge, I suppose - and others, well, it would seem their long-term goal is to bring down the Federation." The XO laughed derisively. "That's fantasy, Artie. Sure - they've caused mischief and mayhem, but to defeat the Federation? That's crazy talk." Slayd gazed somberly into the fire. "Many revolutions in history began with a handful of devoted 'crazies,' Katari. There's another aspect of this that's equally troubling." "I can't imagine what that could be." "Lieutenant 'Haynes' managed to overhear a few snippets of conversation amongst members of the Maquis. Someone is providing them advanced technology and substantial funding to help their 'cause.'" Commander Nor Huren was quiet for a moment as she pondered this. "Technology that can neutralize vaccines?" Slayd nodded. "Among others." "Who?" she asked. "That remains a mystery, Number One. But it tells me that our problems with the Tzenkethi may just be the tip of the iceberg." * * * Stardate 54369.5 (25 May 2377) USS Dragonfire Holding Station 78 km off Desola Station Captain's Log: Stardate 54369.5 - We have released two of the prisoners that were rounded up yesterday, thanks to Lieutenant 'Haynes' tip. Our intel operative is now back in the midst of the hornet's nest. I stand amazed at such a man's bravery, for if any suspicion were to arise as to his true identity, I have no doubt his life would come to a quick and brutal end. As to the three remaining prisoners, they will remain our guests until we return to Star Station Bravo. Considering the nature of our mission - there is no guarantee we will return. I have no illusions that our confronting a Tzenkethi marauder will be a stroll in the park. And now, the time of theorizing, planning and making modifications is over. We depart today for the Tzenkethi border. I wish it to be known that I take sole responsibility for the actions of my crew and ship, should we fail. For the officers and crew of the Dragonfire, I have nothing but the highest respect and admiration. They are some of the finest beings of which it has been my great privilege to serve with. * * * Quarters of Ensign Cyndi Kwan Ensign Kwan briskly rubbed her hair with a towel. It was awkward washing her hair in the small sink, but she never found the results from the sonic shower completely satisfying. Thus, she would endure the painful contortions necessary to apply water and shampoo. In the end, the results were worth the discomfort. Her terminal chimed softly, indicating an incoming message. Sighing, she quickly grabbed a brush and ran it through her hair before sitting at her desk and opening the channel. "Hello, Cyndi." She blinked in surprise. "Mom! Why are you calling?" Instantly, she regretted her choice of words, but Captain Larissa Kwan merely smiled. "Does a mother need a reason to contact her daughter?" "No, no of course not," There was an awkward silence before Cyndi continued, "How have you been? How's Dad?" "The answer to both questions is 'fine' and 'quite busy.' We've been involved in convoy escort duty for the past few months while your father has been studying cosmic strings somewhere near the Typhon Expanse. But I'm calling to see how you are doing, dear." "Great! Really - it's been . . . interesting. We've visited some really beautiful places and some, well, not so nice." "That goes with the job, Cyndi." Captain Kwan paused. "I haven't told you this lately, but I'm proud of you." Cyndi blinked. "Really?" A wistful smile formed on the face of Larissa Kwan. "Yes, really. And I regret that your Father and I haven't made that clear to you. I know we both pushed you toward a career in Starfleet - too much so. You may think we are disappointed that you are with the Border Service, but that's not the case. Whatever path you choose, we will always love you. Please remember that." Cyndi's throat tightened. "Thanks. Um, I appreciate that." "Cyndi, we've been scattered as a family most of your life. I can't go back and change that, but I want you to know I love you and I'm so very proud you are my daughter." She smiled. "I love you too, Mom." The elder Kwan returned the smile. "I hope you are getting enough rest and eating right. Are you making friends?" Cyndi laughed. "Yes, yes and . . . yes." Captain Kwan regarded her daughter for a moment. "Hmmm. I sense there is more to that last answer. Unfortunately, duty calls. Next time I want to hear about your friends. Okay?" "Aye, aye, sir." "Good answer. Take care, Cyndi - I know you are in the middle of a difficult situation in the Outland. I'm sure you will do fine." "Thanks, Mom - you take care too. Love you." "Love you too, sweetheart." Cyndi sat at her desk for several minutes after her mother closed the channel. "How about that?" she asked the room. * * * Bridge The ship was abuzz with activity as crew members scurried to their departure stations. Slayd took the center seat as Ensign Hokana brought the helm controls on-line. "That Nausicaan Kuthuu left in a big hurry," remarked Lt. Commander Banton. "Did it, now?" replied Slayd. "And without anyone to pay their comrades in our brig a visit? Pity. What of the Kriosian freighter?" "Still docked. If it is a Maquis ship, they're playing it very cool." "Hmm. Indeed. Well, we'll have to allow Mr. Pumjir to deal with them should they stir up any mischief. Mr. Hokana? Take us out of the system - one half impulse, please." "Aye, sir. Course and heading?" "Make it 233 mark 12 - shortest route to the Tzenkethi border. Bring us to warp 8 when we clear the outer markers." Hokana complied and the big cutter arced gracefully away from Desola Station. Ten minutes later, it disappeared in a flash of light as it jumped to warp, headed for a showdown with Tzenkethi marauders. * * * To be continued
Singularly and amazingly awesome! Thank you so much for bringing this back, TLR!! I was actually just thinking about this and even Googled it, to see if there were any updates anywhere else. And I have been having a crappy week...only starting to turn around in the last few hours...so I doubly thank you for finally making my week a good one with seeing this here...and the news that you will be finishing it...but only after "several chapters"!
The plot thickens. Going into battle with criminals on board doesn't sound 100% safe, y'know? Can't wait for more.
Slayd clearly is an old fox with plenty of tricks up his sleeve, including relying on establish intelligence sources to get a better picture on what he's up against. This neo-Maquis is clearly bad news and if their overall aim is to bring down the Federation, I'm sure they'll be able to find plenty of powers to given them a helping hand, be it the Tzenkethi or somebody else. I also like the little character touch on West and especially Kwan.
I'm so glad to see you've resumed work on this fabulous tale! Captain Slayd and his crew are obviously swimming in the deep end with bigger sharks than they anticipated. The Neo-Maquis are a special kind of vicious
I'm so glad to see you've resumed work on this fabulous tale! Captain Slayd and his crew are obviously swimming in the deep end with bigger sharks than they anticipated. The Neo-Maquis are a special kind of vicious
I just discovered this story and so had the opportunity to read it straight-thru beginning to now. So more please! Try not to wait until next October this time!!
More spectacular additions to the Border Service. Glad to see this story is still alive TLR. Border Service stories are among my favorite to read, especially yours at United Trek.