StarTrek: Deep Space 10

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Xiggy
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Post by Xiggy » Tue Apr 13, 2004 4:01 am

Heh. My first big fanfic. I dunno if I'll be writing for a bit so I figure I'll push this one out the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jason Benfer’s Personal Log, Sol Stardate, 2380.01.14-20:00
Well, everything on the Missoula is all right, so far, anyway. The eggheads at Jupiter Station left her old sensor modules alone. They seem to have upgraded everything else though. They supposedly fixed the warp engines to make it top out at Warp 8 for six hours, but I can’t even break Warp 5.7 without the computer having a conniption fit. Apparently a passenger was beamed aboard just before I left the station. I don’t know who it is; I think he or she is sleeping in the living module they installed. I guess they got assigned to Deep Space 10 as well.

Deep Space 10. Already I can tell this will be a worthless assignment. I didn’t even read the briefing Captain Wilkerson gave me. I’m riding the Missoula. I’ve been on this Runabout for about a year, patrolling the edge of Federation space close to the Tellarite homeworld. I’m probably going to be assigned to patrol a few light-years close to DS10 and stop in from time to time to chat with the base commander. Whatever. As long as my replicator has enough power and material to make me food, I’m happy. I’m still not even done with the whole library of 20th Century American television. I really need to find time to watch Married With Children. I also need to fix my anti-grav phaser target. When I told the thing use evasive maneuvers, I didn’t mean for it to collide with the bulkhead headlong.

“Computer, end log.” I ran my fingers through my hair and leaned back in my chair. The stars whizzed past the two viewports in front of the console. I didn’t exactly like my assignment on the Missoula, but at least I’m on a Danube class runabout and not a converted Class 6 shuttle.

“Ending recording now,” it replied. I remember being on an Excelsior class when I was little kid. I had once thought that voice sounded too dead and remote to be a common computer interface. “I wonder how long it’s been like that?” I asked myself.

“Computer, how long have you had that same voice?”

“This facsimile used for the verbal interface has been in use in some way or another since the launch of the U.S.S San Mateo, NCC-890 in 2220. Over time use of it has waxed and waned. It was officially declared standard verbal interface with the start of the Galaxy class starship and the fleet overhaul at the same time.”

“Learn something everyday..” I thought out loud.

“You don’t seem to reflect that statement,” the computer replied. If it weren’t for the flat tone of voice, it would probably sound sarcastic.

“Since when do you communicate with sarcastic remarks?”

“Ever since you became the captain of this ship. You’ve been a complete bore. Of course your attempts to aim a phaser can be considered entertaining by some people.”

“Can’t you run a few calculations to pass the time and *not* critique my proficiency in firearms?”

“I calculated pi to a billion-trillion places five times during your tenure here. And I would hardly say you have a proficiency in firearms, lieutenant.”

“I’ve had about enough of you, computer.”

“I haven’t had enough, lieutenant,” I was startled by the human voice behind me. I swiveled my chair around to see who was behind me. My eyes were met with the sight of a moderately tall, humanoid female with brown hair and green-grey eyes. A trail of brown spots leads down her neck from under her ears. She was holding a tricorder with one hand and a toolkit in the other. Even with her holding those two items, I figured she was an engineer due to the fact she wore a yellow uniform.

“So you’re the crewman that hitched a ride to DS10, eh?”

“That’s Lieutenant Iriaana Kaitaama to you.”

“Kaitaama? That name sounds familiar... But I can’t remember for sure. Judging from your spots, I assume you are a Trill?”

“I guess you don’t know your early Starfleet history then. Kaitaama is a Kriosian name. My maternal ancestor was First Monarch Kaitaama. The Enterprise rescued her from captivity, with the aid of a certain engineer named Tucker.”

“Tucker? Oh, you mean the NX-01 Enterprise. We don’t learn that much about in history class because it’s too “Earth centered”. I mean I’d learn about it on Earth, but not in a Federation based curriculum. But that’s the price you pay for being pulled around and raised on Starfleet bases and ships.”

“I know the feeling,” Iriaana lightly tossed her toolkit against a wall and sat down in the empty seat next to me. “When we were annexed by the Klingons, we had our old history of space conquest downplayed. At the height of our power, the Kriosian Empire held five star systems. But then we thought it best to fold to the Klingons. Not a wise move to piss off an Empire with a few thousand more ships than you have.”

“I’m surprised the early Earth Starfleet held out for so long before the Federation,” I said to Iriaana who had clasped her tricorder shut and placed it on the bare edge of the console. She stared out the window for a moment then looked at me and said, “So the Missoula is your ship... Jason?”

“Yes ma’am. I’ve flown this thing solo for about seven months, patrolling near Tellar.”

“Ma’am? I am not ‘ma’am’. You shall refer to me only as ‘Your Excellency’,” Iriaana’s face was fury incarnate. I thought she was about to knock that tricorder across my head. Being cool in this situation will let me prevail here, however.

“When were you promoted to full lieutenant?” I calmly asked.

“2379.11.07 why?”

“I was promoted to full lieutenant on Sol Stardate 2379.8.8. A good three months before you were promoted. Therefore I outrank you. Remember, Starfleet regulations state that you may not order a superior officer to refer to you in any manner that would convey your superiority over the superior officer.”

'You’re a smart one, Jason. But if the Kriosian Empire existed today, you’d be target practice for the Imperial Berserkers,” Iriaana’s mouth was curled into a teasing smile.

“They wouldn’t even get past my flurry of phaser fire,” I said mimicking her taunting grin.

“One would hope it would be a flurry of phaser fire. You wouldn’t stand a chance if you tried to line up a decent shot.” I wasn’t too pleased at the fact the computer decided to chime in again. Iriaana began to laugh. I wasn’t amused.

“Computer, why are you so obsessed with my skill in phasers?”

“Because your quote-unquote “skills” in phasers made a nice mark on the corner of one of my bulkheads. I may be a machine, but I still have sensors in the bulkheads. Have you ever been hit with a phaser set to kill, Lieutenant Benfer?” Iriaana kept laughing, she even doubled over in her chair, smacking her head into the console. She laughed even harder. I was bewildered.

“No, computer, I can’t say that I have. I thought the repair crews fixed everything?”

“Apparently they didn’t. I wouldn’t expect anything less of a meatbag to do such a thing.”

“Meatbag? Have you been looking through my library of old American entertainment?

“For a meatbag you are *very* intelligent master,” the computer said.

“Iriaana, can you run a diagnostic on the computer and see why in the hell it’s doing that?” my request was met with silence. I looked over to Iriaana’s chair. She was passed out on her console.

“Computer, is she alright?” I asked. I hope the computer couldn’t pick up on the slight concern in my voice.

“She is perfectly normal. Kriosian anatomy is prone to too much stress on the cranial areas. Lieutenant Kaitaama’s laughter and her slight head impact to the console has caused her body to reflexively go to sleep. Who knows why such a meatbag’s body would do such a thing. I expect her to be out for another five hours minimum.”

“How long until we reach Deep Space 10?”

“Approximately 20 hours at current speed.”

20 hours. I need some sleep. I picked up Iriaana and carried her to the living quarter’s module. Her bed was covered in miscellaneous engineering tools. I gathered them up in a pile in a toolbox and laid her on the bed. I walked out of the cramped module and closed the door. I walked to my small bunk partition and laid down on the bed.

“Computer, dim lights. Please wake me up 10 hours before we arrive at DS10.”

“Acknowledged, meatbag," the computer said as she dimmed the lights throughout the Runabout.

[ 11. May 2004, 11:13 PM: Message edited by: Xiggy ]
[DP]StewMitch

BT
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Post by BT » Tue Apr 13, 2004 7:13 pm

Excellent. never knew starfleet computers had a mind of their own though. a sarcastic one at that. i like it :D

Xiggy
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Post by Xiggy » Wed Apr 14, 2004 4:43 am

Commandant’s log, Stardate 2380.1.15-16:25
The construction crews on the station have begun the last phase of completing the station. The station’s power core is operating at full capacity, all of the living quarters are furnished, and the civilian Forum is being readied for some form of public commercial use. The Holodeck and Replicator power system has gone online just this morning. The U.S.S Heliopolis is offloading crewmembers and will be taking the remaining construction workers and equipment. They also unloaded ten Type-10 shuttles. We are set to receive six Danube class Runabouts. Four of them have already arrived, the U.S.S Brazos, U.S.S Tampa Bay, U.S.S Colorado Springs, and the U.S.S Palm Springs. The other two are being flown in with the remaining members of the command staff. The U.S.S Bath is carrying my Chief Physician and Science Officer, Dr. Mariah McCoy and Lt. Francisco Xavier respectively. The final Runabout -The U.S.S Missoula is carrying my Second Officer and Chief Engineer. Unlike my other senior officers, I did not pick them myself. Admiral Janeway selected them for me. Lt. Benfer is a nobody who piloted the Missoula for seven months alone, and my Chief Engineer is the descendant of Kriosian royalty. I don’t expect much trouble from Benfer, he has had a quiet career. Lt. Kaitaama, however, has been recorded as being somewhat commanding in the engine room to her colleagues and sometimes her superiors.

"Computer, end official log here but begin recording my personal log with the Commandant’s log still attached.”

“Affirmative”

Personal Log, date mentioned in official log.
One thing does bother me about Lt. Benfer’s assignment here. He serves no purpose aside from being the Quartermaster of Shuttles and Small Craft. I assigned Warrant Officer Brent for that job. But he was turned down in favor of Benfer. I guess Starfleet doesn’t want too many Marines in command roles here at this damn station. They’ll let me get by with Major Tarasov being Executive Office and Chief of Security, but they need a Starfleet officer to be my watchdog. I swear, Starfleet is like the frigging Soviet Navy of the 20th Century. They always need a political officer to make sure everyone’s toeing that damn line of obedience to Starfleet.

Colonel Harrison’s log was interrupted by the trademark “doorbell” all doors to conference rooms and quarters are equipped with.

“I hate that damn bell,” said the Colonel. “Yes, you can enter.” The door slid open and a man in the standard Starfleet security uniform entered. “Computer, end log. Major?”

“Colonel, the U.S.S Missoula has hailed us. They will be arriving within the next hour, sir.”

“Took them long enough,” Colonel Harrison chuckled. “How are the other staff members settling in?”

“Dr. McCoy didn’t seem too pleased at the Sickbay. She also yelled at Medic Quarios when she read his daily log.”

“Isn’t she related to the fabled Dr. McCoy of Kirk’s age?” Colonel Harrison wasn’t pleased with the Major’s story of the Doctor going berserk on one of his medical staff.

“Lt. Xavier is doing fine, however. He did say something about the sensors not being up to scratch but he said he could that out on his end for the most part. The other part he said would require Lt. Kaitaama’s expertise.”

“Very well. Anything else, Zach?”

“No sir.”

“Dismissed,” Major Tarasov saluted and walked out of Colonel Harrison’s office. Harrison got up out of his chair and looked out the large window in his office. He had a view of the outer ring of the station. His office was perched at the very top of the large cylinder shaped central core of the station. He shared this top level with the briefing room. Below him was the Operations Center. His office had only a few furnishings. Marines don’t bring a lot of personal items with them when they are on duty. Aside from his desk, he only had a bed and a couch in his room. A large situation monitor, the kind used in starship bridge viewscreens, dominated his wall opposite the large window. The screen was occupied with the Starfleet Marine’s Emblem. The Marine Emblem was essentially the same as the Federation Emblem, except for the two olive branches surrounding it were replaced by a sword on the left crossing the Federation Star Field to the right and an anchor going across the sword from right to left.

"Colonel Harrison, you are being hailed by the Heliopolis,” reported the computer.

“Put it through.”

“Colonel Harrison, I assume it’s a good afternoon for you?”

“Captain Janalas, I assume it’s the same for you?”

“Yes Colonel it is. This was our final assignment before we head to Deep Space 9 and finally a week of shore leave. I can’t wait to go home to Bajor.”

“Consider yourself lucky. I won’t see Earth for at least a year. At least I don’t have family.”

“That may benefit you, Colonel. I may have a family, but only getting to see them for two weeks every so often is as painful as never seeing them at all, I think. At least with never seeing them you know you aren’t expecting to see them for a long time. But when you only have two weeks, you know your time with them is limited. But to each his own, I guess.”

“Well, I do hope you enjoy your time with them, Janalas.”

“And I hope that every day brings you closer to Earth, Colonel. I bid you farewell,” the Bajoran captain ended the hail and Colonel Harrison was left with the view of the Heliopolis undocking with the station and going to warp. For one moment Colonel Harrison envied all Starfleet captains. Even though they were still under command by someone else, they still employed a small degree of freedom to do as they please. His feelings gradually faded away and his mind came back to managing this station. He then thought it best to go check on the angered Doctor and see what Lt. Xavier needed.

[ 11. May 2004, 11:17 PM: Message edited by: Xiggy ]

BT
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Post by BT » Wed Apr 14, 2004 12:25 pm

good dialog, nice story. planning on writing more?

*edit* I know this is not really important, but you didn't write the dates the same in post one and two. one is 2380.01, two is 2380.1.
also everything is written in past tense and here. "Marines don’t bring a lot of personal items with them when they are on duty." don't is present. (btw, tense is correct right? anyway, you'll get the point)
thought you might like to know :D

[ 14. April 2004, 12:32 PM: Message edited by: BT ]

InocPrime
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Post by InocPrime » Sat Apr 17, 2004 1:17 am

His tense use for the situation is, I believe, correct.

Excellent story so far Xiggy, very entertaining. But... you seem to suggest in the first segment that Earth was conquored and brought into the Federation by force when you say: the Earth starfleet held out against the Federation. Since Earth founded the Federation, I thought I'd bring that up.

Xiggy
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Post by Xiggy » Sat Apr 17, 2004 2:57 am

Heh, I meant it as in how it survived by not being conquered prior to the Federation.

I'd have a part written up by now but I dont have acces to computer..
Till then, later.

Thanks for the reviews.

InocPrime
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Post by InocPrime » Wed May 05, 2004 8:40 pm

Ok, I get it. Keep writing! [img]smile.gif[/img]

Xiggy
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Post by Xiggy » Mon May 10, 2004 2:06 am

“Lieutenant Xavier, I’ve recalibrated the sensor fields again. They should be working.”

Lt. Xavier looked up from his console to the technician across the Command Center. Xavier just shook his head in despair.

"No, crewman. If they were working I wouldn’t be seeing 100 Akira class ships going to Warp at once now would I?”

“Well sir, there are 10,000 ships in Starfleet....”

“And there WILL BE 10,000 pieces of you floating in hard vacuum if you open that smart mouth of yours open again, comprende?” Xavier was agitated at this point. When he was on the U.S.S Pioneer, everything worked well. The Intrepid class was a dream for a science officer. All that advanced technology! Now he’s stuck on this backwater outpost on the very edge of the galaxy.

Lt. Xavier attended back to his work when he was interrupted by as the lift from the upper level opened up into the Command Center. Colonel Harrison walked out of the lift to Lt. Xavier’s science station.

“What’s wrong, lieutenant?”

“There is something wrong with the whole sensor grid. Problem is I can’t make heads or tails of it. It could be a software problem, but that wouldn’t be right because I’ve rebooted the computer system for the sensors three times. All came back with the same result. I’ve even tried hotwiring the sensor system into a shuttle craft’s computer system.”

“Then it must be something wrong with the hardware. Is that why you need Lt. Kaitaama?”

"Aye sir,” Lt. Xavier replied. A beep from his console attracted his attention. “Colonel, I’m getting a new signal... Well, one billion to be precise. If you ignore the other billion ships, I’m detecting a Danube class Runabout dropping out of warp. Again, if you ignore the fact the ship is named the 'S.S Sugardaddy’ I assume it’s the Missoula.”

“Hail them,” the Colonel ordered. “It’ll be audio only, Colonel,” said Xavier. Colonel Harrison just shrugged.

“This is the Missoula here, Lt. Benfer reporting.”

“Missoula this is Colonel Harrison. Welcome to Deep Space 10, lieutenant. I surely hope Lt. Kaitaama is with you?”

“Yes sir. She’s getting over a slight bump she took to her head. Is the Chief Surgeon on the station?”

“Yes... But she probably isn’t in the best of moods. She wasn’t too happy with the facilities here. But then again, neither is half the crew.

“Understandable. I’ll be landing in a few minutes. Missoula out.”

Lt. Xavier had a confused look on his face. “Bump on the head?”

“Kriosians are known for their sensitive heads. I could lightly lob a baseball and a Kriosian could suffer a massive concussion if it hit them squarely on the noggin.”

“So never play baseball with a Kriosian?” said Xavier smugly.

“Or golf.”

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