Here is my latest attempt at a fanfic that I’d like to share with everyone here. Ive written stuff before but never posted it anywhere so here it goes.
Set shortly after the Dominion War it will follow a pair of Starfleet Special Missions teams as they hunt down Cardassian insurgents all across the quadrant. Composed of not your typical Federation species (one team’s leader is a Nausicaan if that tells you anything) Special Missions Team Twelve specializes in undercover, counterespionage and heavy assault work. Here is the first what I hope will be many tales about their exploits and lives.
Orion Syndicate Trade Station
Orion/Federation Border
March 2376
The trio of Starfleet Special Missions operators walks against the flow of traffic; mostly criminals and other less than respectable characters with ease. Leading the group is Commander Kyhryk Laruun a massive Hi’ought Nausicaan with a pair of Nausicaan disruptor pistols strapped to his thighs and a Nausicaan war blade in a Dundee rig on his back. Accompanying him is Chief Ursak a Rigellian Kaylar who towers over both him and Nikara a scantily clad green Orion woman also apart of their team.
“Everyone in position.” Kyhryk breathes into the subcutaneous com unit implanted along his jawbone as he leans on the railing overlooking the promenade. Ursak rests his elbows on the railing as he watches their back. Nikara wraps her arm around Kyhryk’s waist giving the impression that they are an item.
Scattered across the promenade is the rest of his team split into small teams covering all the entrances and exits while blending in with the crowd. “Yep.” Lohs’s growls from his position one level down in a Caitian restaurant.
“So are we.” Lieutenant (jg) Daniel’s southern drawl carries through the ear piece receiver as he sits in the Ferengi run bar opposite Lohs’s team’s position. Seated at a table him and Chief Zarku, a two meter Brikar have been throwing back shots for half an hour while monitoring the promenade.
“I hate these stools.” Senior Chief Khern quips. A hefty green Orion Khern is the shadiest looking member of the team due to his numerous tattoos and facial scars and fits right in with the stations guests. Like their teammates he and Ari Lin a slender Asian woman are seated in a restaurant appearing to enjoy a nice meal.
“Stow it. They should be here any…” Kyhryk mutters harshly.
“I see them.” Khern chimes in. “Heading your way boss.” He continues to eat.
“Got them.” Signaling with his hands Kyhryk and his people move into position as they slide through the crowd to intercept their targets.
“Look for a Ferengi, an over dressed one at that.” A compact Cardassian with the bearing of a gul orders his followers who act like soldiers before all hell breaks loose. Stun blasts impact four of the Cardassians as the fifth takes two steps and goes over the railing landing on the level below.
“Lohs, we got a runner.” Kyhryk and Nikara start tagging the Cardassians with isolinear tags while Ursak covers them with a disruptor in hand.
“Got him.” Dropping to all fours Lohs and a Caitian take off after the Cardassian who struggles to run. “Move.” Lohs roars as he leaps over a Bolian woman who scurries to get out of the way.
Cutting right Lieutenant K’rassin a white Caitian with thin black stripes leaps onto a table and bunching his powerful legs launches himself at the Cardassian clipping an already irritated Chalnoth in the process. With claws sheathed he slams into the Cardassian driving him to the floor and smacks him on the temple knocking him out. Quickly he stabs him with an isolinear tag.
“You rotten furball, im gonna…” The Chalnoth starts to threaten K’rassin but is cut short by Lohs who throws him over the railing to the next level. He doesn't get up.
“Vermin.” Lohs grins at the sight of the Chalnoth sprawled on the floor. “Kyhryk. We have the runner.”
“Ukrar. Ten to beam out.” Kyhryk alerts their ship.
“Five seconds.” The team and their prisoners disappear in columns of light and reappear in a nondescript cargo bay with a big Capellan standing behind a transporter console. “Bridge their all aboard.” Ukrar alerts the bridge.
“You heard him Monica; let the Swahili know she has a go.” Captain Travis commands. Seated aboard their Q-ship, an Axanar cargo ship the crew monitors their second target.
USS Swahili
Orion/Federation Border
February 2376
“Message from the Far Rider. They have the package and we are cleared to engage.” Helmsman Vol’shur reports of the Nebula-class starship. Assigned directly to Starfleet Intelligence the Swahili has been working closely with Special Mission Teams Twelve as they hunt down the leaders to the Cardassian Insurgency.
“Very well. Red alert.” Captain Y’cau shifts in his seat. Opting for a shaved head and leaving several scars acquired in the Dominion War uncorrected Y’cau is quite intimidating for an Andorian. “Take us in.”
“Going to warp, eta two minutes at maximum warp.” Vol’shur’s fingers glide over his console. Jumping to warp the Swahili traverses the short distance and leaves warp with the Galor-class warship orbiting the station in its sights.
“Open a channel.” Vol’shur nods indicating it’s open. “Attention Cardassian vessel, you are ordered to lower shields and prepare to be boarded.”
“They’re firing.” Lieutenant Geharris at tactical reports nonchalantly as the Swahili shudders from weapons fire. “Minimal damage. They're going to warp.”
“Mr. Geharris, return fire. Target their engines.”
“Firing.” Multiple phaser blasts lance out from the Swahili’s next generation weapons pod and saucer section rattling the Galor’s aft shields. “Her shields are holding.”
“Shes firing again.” Disruptor blasts impact the forward shields, a pair of photon torpedoes follow them “Shields holding at 70 percent.” The Swahili shudders from the impact of the torpedoes while launching a pair of her own and following it with more phaser strikes. “That did it, her aft shields are fluctuating.”
“Keep firing.” With surgical precision a pair of phaser beams carves into the Galor’s warp and impulse engines dropping her from warp.
“She dropped out of warp.”
“Come about, drop us in behind her.” Y’cau commands.
“Coming about.” Dropping from warp the formidable cruiser cirlces bringing the Galor back into its sights where it delivers several punishing blows from its phasers taking out the Galor’s weapons and the last of her shields.
“Reading fluctuations in their warp core.” Lt. Commander Fallin shouts out. “She’ll blow any minute.”
“Lock onto anyone you can, beam them to cargo bays four and five.” Tasked with the possibility of having to transport large numbers of prisoners multiple cargo bays were retrofitted into multi-level holding cells. “All power to shields and back away to max transporter range.”
“Yes sir.” Chief Engineer Commander Hi’lonor goes to work as the cruiser reverses course.
“Major Yulenko , you have prisoners incoming.”
“Yes sir.” The burly Russian replies as Swahili’s contingent of Federation Marines greets their new charges with assault rifles at the ready as they move them into cells.
“Estimate thirty seconds till she blows.” The bridge crew sits there in uneasy silence until the view screen lights up with the exploding warship.
“How many did we get?”
“Less than two hundred.” Hi’lonor reports with a shake of his head. “Lot of wounded amongst them.”
“Alert the doc.”
“What now sir?”
“Set a course for Star Station Echo.”
“Yes sir.” Turning to starboard the Swahili jumps to warp.
Set shortly after the Dominion War it will follow a pair of Starfleet Special Missions teams as they hunt down Cardassian insurgents all across the quadrant. Composed of not your typical Federation species (one team’s leader is a Nausicaan if that tells you anything) Special Missions Team Twelve specializes in undercover, counterespionage and heavy assault work. Here is the first what I hope will be many tales about their exploits and lives.
****
Orion Syndicate Trade Station
Orion/Federation Border
March 2376
The trio of Starfleet Special Missions operators walks against the flow of traffic; mostly criminals and other less than respectable characters with ease. Leading the group is Commander Kyhryk Laruun a massive Hi’ought Nausicaan with a pair of Nausicaan disruptor pistols strapped to his thighs and a Nausicaan war blade in a Dundee rig on his back. Accompanying him is Chief Ursak a Rigellian Kaylar who towers over both him and Nikara a scantily clad green Orion woman also apart of their team.
“Everyone in position.” Kyhryk breathes into the subcutaneous com unit implanted along his jawbone as he leans on the railing overlooking the promenade. Ursak rests his elbows on the railing as he watches their back. Nikara wraps her arm around Kyhryk’s waist giving the impression that they are an item.
Scattered across the promenade is the rest of his team split into small teams covering all the entrances and exits while blending in with the crowd. “Yep.” Lohs’s growls from his position one level down in a Caitian restaurant.
“So are we.” Lieutenant (jg) Daniel’s southern drawl carries through the ear piece receiver as he sits in the Ferengi run bar opposite Lohs’s team’s position. Seated at a table him and Chief Zarku, a two meter Brikar have been throwing back shots for half an hour while monitoring the promenade.
“I hate these stools.” Senior Chief Khern quips. A hefty green Orion Khern is the shadiest looking member of the team due to his numerous tattoos and facial scars and fits right in with the stations guests. Like their teammates he and Ari Lin a slender Asian woman are seated in a restaurant appearing to enjoy a nice meal.
“Stow it. They should be here any…” Kyhryk mutters harshly.
“I see them.” Khern chimes in. “Heading your way boss.” He continues to eat.
“Got them.” Signaling with his hands Kyhryk and his people move into position as they slide through the crowd to intercept their targets.
“Look for a Ferengi, an over dressed one at that.” A compact Cardassian with the bearing of a gul orders his followers who act like soldiers before all hell breaks loose. Stun blasts impact four of the Cardassians as the fifth takes two steps and goes over the railing landing on the level below.
“Lohs, we got a runner.” Kyhryk and Nikara start tagging the Cardassians with isolinear tags while Ursak covers them with a disruptor in hand.
“Got him.” Dropping to all fours Lohs and a Caitian take off after the Cardassian who struggles to run. “Move.” Lohs roars as he leaps over a Bolian woman who scurries to get out of the way.
Cutting right Lieutenant K’rassin a white Caitian with thin black stripes leaps onto a table and bunching his powerful legs launches himself at the Cardassian clipping an already irritated Chalnoth in the process. With claws sheathed he slams into the Cardassian driving him to the floor and smacks him on the temple knocking him out. Quickly he stabs him with an isolinear tag.
“You rotten furball, im gonna…” The Chalnoth starts to threaten K’rassin but is cut short by Lohs who throws him over the railing to the next level. He doesn't get up.
“Vermin.” Lohs grins at the sight of the Chalnoth sprawled on the floor. “Kyhryk. We have the runner.”
“Ukrar. Ten to beam out.” Kyhryk alerts their ship.
“Five seconds.” The team and their prisoners disappear in columns of light and reappear in a nondescript cargo bay with a big Capellan standing behind a transporter console. “Bridge their all aboard.” Ukrar alerts the bridge.
“You heard him Monica; let the Swahili know she has a go.” Captain Travis commands. Seated aboard their Q-ship, an Axanar cargo ship the crew monitors their second target.
*****
USS Swahili
Orion/Federation Border
February 2376
“Message from the Far Rider. They have the package and we are cleared to engage.” Helmsman Vol’shur reports of the Nebula-class starship. Assigned directly to Starfleet Intelligence the Swahili has been working closely with Special Mission Teams Twelve as they hunt down the leaders to the Cardassian Insurgency.
“Very well. Red alert.” Captain Y’cau shifts in his seat. Opting for a shaved head and leaving several scars acquired in the Dominion War uncorrected Y’cau is quite intimidating for an Andorian. “Take us in.”
“Going to warp, eta two minutes at maximum warp.” Vol’shur’s fingers glide over his console. Jumping to warp the Swahili traverses the short distance and leaves warp with the Galor-class warship orbiting the station in its sights.
“Open a channel.” Vol’shur nods indicating it’s open. “Attention Cardassian vessel, you are ordered to lower shields and prepare to be boarded.”
“They’re firing.” Lieutenant Geharris at tactical reports nonchalantly as the Swahili shudders from weapons fire. “Minimal damage. They're going to warp.”
“Mr. Geharris, return fire. Target their engines.”
“Firing.” Multiple phaser blasts lance out from the Swahili’s next generation weapons pod and saucer section rattling the Galor’s aft shields. “Her shields are holding.”
“Shes firing again.” Disruptor blasts impact the forward shields, a pair of photon torpedoes follow them “Shields holding at 70 percent.” The Swahili shudders from the impact of the torpedoes while launching a pair of her own and following it with more phaser strikes. “That did it, her aft shields are fluctuating.”
“Keep firing.” With surgical precision a pair of phaser beams carves into the Galor’s warp and impulse engines dropping her from warp.
“She dropped out of warp.”
“Come about, drop us in behind her.” Y’cau commands.
“Coming about.” Dropping from warp the formidable cruiser cirlces bringing the Galor back into its sights where it delivers several punishing blows from its phasers taking out the Galor’s weapons and the last of her shields.
“Reading fluctuations in their warp core.” Lt. Commander Fallin shouts out. “She’ll blow any minute.”
“Lock onto anyone you can, beam them to cargo bays four and five.” Tasked with the possibility of having to transport large numbers of prisoners multiple cargo bays were retrofitted into multi-level holding cells. “All power to shields and back away to max transporter range.”
“Yes sir.” Chief Engineer Commander Hi’lonor goes to work as the cruiser reverses course.
“Major Yulenko , you have prisoners incoming.”
“Yes sir.” The burly Russian replies as Swahili’s contingent of Federation Marines greets their new charges with assault rifles at the ready as they move them into cells.
“Estimate thirty seconds till she blows.” The bridge crew sits there in uneasy silence until the view screen lights up with the exploding warship.
“How many did we get?”
“Less than two hundred.” Hi’lonor reports with a shake of his head. “Lot of wounded amongst them.”
“Alert the doc.”
“What now sir?”
“Set a course for Star Station Echo.”
“Yes sir.” Turning to starboard the Swahili jumps to warp.
