HULK ENJOYED. HULK STOP SMASHING. *stops smashing stuff**un-hulkifies*
Hey I'm back to Barth Bavid, er Bruce Banner, er DarthDavid or... Aw who gives a fuck. Good story though.
darthdavid wrote:HULK ENJOYED. HULK STOP SMASHING. *stops smashing stuff**un-hulkifies*
Hey I'm back to Barth Bavid, er Bruce Banner, er DarthDavid or... Aw who gives a fuck. Good story though.
Nice folding of events, although it is sometimes difficult for me to place everything in their universes, as I'm not well familiar with either ST or SW:NJO.
No, it's not a chapter update (which will be coming soon) but that time again: Signature-time. I've been once again tweaking with my current BOBW-inspired signature and I'm ready to produce the result. Here's the current sig:
Now, the revamp:
At first glance, the only change appears to be the addition of Luke's lightsaber blade. But it's not. For this variant, I've leaned away from my normal attention to sharpness in favor of tweaking the tone, brightness, and contrast. The result, while less sharpened, has a more vivid coloring than its predecessor.
I like it. Because of the position Luke's in, it looks like he's actually holding a lightsaber, instead of somebody having just added one into the picture.
"I want to mow down a bunch of motherfuckers with absurdly large weapons and relative impunity - preferably in and around a skyscraper. Then I want to fight a grim battle against the unlikely duo of the Terminator and Robocop. The last level should involve (but not be limited to) multiple robo-Hitlers and a gorillasaurus rex."--Uraniun235 on his ideal FPS game
"The ability to destroy a planet is insignificant compared to the power of the Force."--Darth Vader
I'm aiming for an update during this weekend, but I can't promise anything. If all goes well, then it's more of that mystery, political intrigue, and bitching from an omnipotent entity that makes you keep coming back for more . And best of all for everybody complaining about the lack of apperance by the Imperials in the story, well, guess who finally shows up next chapter?
Crazedwraith wrote:hmm.let me guess...the ssi-ruuk? no waith! The yeethan!
No -- and at this point I have no plans to bring in either one of them. The Vong are already fanatic enough and as Rob would say, "The ability to drain life energies is insignifcant next to the power of the Collective."
Why so silent, good Monsieurs?/
Did you think that I had left you for good?/
Have you missed me, good Monsieurs?/
I have written you an opera./
Here, I bring the finished score./
Don Juan Triumphant!/
...
Or, as it has been said before, you wanted it? You've got it!
Disclaimer: Star Trek created by Gene Roddenberry and owned by Paramount Pictures. Stat Wars created by George Lucas and owned by Twentieth Century Fox and Lucasfilm. I own the story and any original characters/species. No copyright infringement is intended.
Star Trek/Star Wars: The Best of Both Worlds -- Act II, Scene III
"However beautiful the strategy, you should occasionally look at the results."
-- Winston Churchill --
Author’s Warning: This chapter contains spoilers for Star Wars: Episode III -- Revenge of the Sith. Read at your own discretion. Other than that, as always, enjoy!
***
Location: Deep Space Nine
Alpha Quadrant, Milky Way Galaxy
Starfleet’s need for a long-range shuttlecraft went back two-centuries to an incident where legendary engineer Trip Tucker and tactical officer Malcolm Reed were stranded in an impulse-only capable shuttlepod for almost a week during the first year of the NX-01 mission. This had led in the decades following the Earth-Romulan Wars to the design of warp-capable shuttles and shuttle pods and eventually by the end of the Cardassian Wars, the Danube-class Runabout.
As Kira had said, the Rio Grande was the longest-lived of the runabouts assigned to Deep Space Nine since the Federation had taken over the station. While older than the current models used by the station, the runabout was still in good shape. The design properties and cosmetic feelings that Luke and his wife had encountered on board the Federation flagship were equally present in the Rio Grande
“You okay back there, Artoo?”
The Astromech droid warbled in reply as it maneuvered its stocky body into the corner of the forward cockpit, just behind Luke and Mara. It seemed odd and even slightly unfair to not have Artoo not plugged in and directing their movements. But then again, this wasn’t an X-Wing fighter. Until they could figure out a way to allow Artoo to link-up with the Federation technology, the little astromech was really just an observer.
He was also the only other inhabitant from his own galaxy that he had direct contact with alongside Mara. His son was on Earth which his niece and nephews, and brother-in-law, and his sister was with Picard. Though committed to making strange, new friends in this galaxy, even he felt some measure of relief and comfort in the presence of those he had known for a good portion of his life.
“Pre-flight check is complete. We’re ready for take-off,” Luke stated in the forward pilot’s seat and the open comm. channel.
“Rio Grande, this is the quartermaster. Your are cleared for departure. Happy flying.”
“Thank you.”
The hydraulic platform that housed the Rio Grande pushed the runabout from the confines of the landing pad into the vacuum of space. Luke starred out for a moment at the Cardassian architecture of the docking pylons before slowly punching in the necessary commands into the runabout computer.
Despite the user-friendly nature of the Federation’s controls, this still took some getting used to from the buttons and levers that he and Mara pushed and pulled on a regular basis on ships like an X-Wing or the Jade Sabre or even on the Falcon. In addition, Luke had piloted the largest ship currently in use by Starfleet, not a shuttlecraft and it was a step down. Just as on Dagobbah twenty years earlier, he was unlearning what he had learned.
The commands quickly accepted as the vessel lifted off from the pad and was soon clear of the station. Luke gave a sigh of relief, causing Mara to glance at him with faint amusement upon her face.
“What?”
“Oh, nothing.”
Luke continued to stare at her, causing her to chuckle even more.
“I just find it amusing that the man who destroyed the first Death Star and rebuilt the Jedi Order can be worried about flying a runabout.”
It was Luke’s turn to smile.
“It’s not as difficult as living with you.”
She punched him in the arm for that, but knew that the comment had been in jest.
“So, what do you have planned when we reach Bajor?”
They had discussed it to some regards, but hadn’t entirely had that much time; that was what they got for spending much of the night dancing at Vic’s Lounge in Quark’s holosuite.
“Our first stop is the capital city, Ashalla. Colonel Kira and I put in a request to their religious body, the Vedek Council, to examine one of the Tears of the Prophets.”
“The Orbs?”
Luke nodded.
“From what the Colonel said, ordinarily, they aren’t fond of outsiders seeing the Orbs, especially because of the Cardassian Occupation. But they’re making an exception for us.“
“Why do you think that is?”
“I’m not fully certain. Kira was as surprised as I was. It’s possible it could be due to the exchange of information between this galaxy and ours. They would know our history, about how we were also persecuted for our beliefs.”
“So in essence, we’re playing the sympathy card.”
“If that is the case, I’m not going to try to. This planet, this quadrant, this entire galaxy represents a fresh start for us Mara. We’ve already made a positive impression with the Federation over the last month and with the persecution we’re facing on the home front, the Order needs all the friends it can get.
Mara couldn’t really argue with that, especially given how she had, as the Emperor’s Hand, had enforced his persecution of various special interest groups and peoples during the years leading up to his first death at Endor.
“So, you were saying about the Orbs?”
“I’m hoping to determine if my theory regarding the Emissary and the Prophets is correct. If the Orbs are indeed Force-related, then we’ll need to find the others and as quickly as possible.”
“Something that Sisko or Q told you?”
“Call it an intuition. I have a feeling they could be one of the keys to fighting both the Yuuzhan Vong and the Merging.”
***
Location: Bastion
Imperial Remnant, That Galaxy Far, Far Away
The Enterprise-E’s ship type, the Sovereign-class had long been the dream of the wistful modern starship designers who wished to recapture the sleekness that earlier classes like the Consitution-class refit has possessed and that Starfleet had moved away from following Khitomer and Tomed. They had gone ecstatic when they had seen the completed U.S.S. Sovereign and had remarked that even at rest, it looked to be doing at least Warp 3.
Personally, Grand Admiral Gilad Pellaeon found it to be, yes, sleek but also somewhat flashy and unnecessary in his trained eye. Give him the awe-inspiring, triangular form of an Imperial-class Star Destroyer any day over the sleek lines of a Sovereign-class Federation cruiser.
The sole Grand Admiral of the Galactic Imperial Empire -- the Moffs absolutely refused to call themselves the Imperial Remnant, even diplomatically -- had spent much of the last two standard days not in Fleet Headquarters, but in the apartment he kept in order in Bastion‘s Imperial City. It was a secure, nondescript apartment within the epicenter of the main government buildings, thus insuring its security.
“And they say that too many holodramas is what’s led to the decline of our youth,” came a voice from behind him. Pellaeon was tempted to scowl, but instead a slight hint of a smile came forth as he swiveled around in his chair to glance at the visitor to his humble domain.
He was a middle-aged man dressed in the olive-green tunic of an Imperial Naval officer, his insignia denoting the rank of Captain. Unlike Pellaeon, he was shorter, but more thickly built. His eyes, despite the lines of age surrounding them, gave off a twinkle of life and mischief to those that made contact with them.
He was Asgar Talak, captain of the Star Destroyer Flying Dagger and a trusted friend -- and considering the nature of the Imperial government, that was saying something. Pellaeon had first met Talak while they had been in training during the Clone Wars. Both men had survived the chaos and collapse of their institution following the debacle at Endor and the warlordism that had followed.
“I thought I’d finally figured out a way to keep your from breaking in.”
Talak shrugged.
“Your locks are last year’s model, Gilad.”
That much was certainly true. Despite the years he had owned it, Pellaeon rarely, if ever, used the apartment, usually preferring his quarters on the Chimera in the old days unless absolutely necessary. This was also a long-standing tradition of Talak’s that began during their Academy days Pellaeon had learned to accept and even slightly delight in Talak’s mischievous streak. It was one of the few pleasures that the Grand
“Hmm. Must do something about that.”
Talak grinned impishly.
“Yes, especially since I’ve already have practice on this year’s model.”
Pellaeon’s scowl returned, but the Grand Admiral resisted the urge to grumble into his moustache as Talak deposited his form into the chair opposite him. The Admiral raised himself from his own chair and produced two shot glasses and a bottle of Corellian brandy from a cabinet on the far wall. After pouring the amber-colored liquid into the shots, he returned to his seat with the glasses in tow, passing one to Talak and raising the other.
“To absent friends,” Pellaeon said.
“To my retirement fund,” countered Talak.
They clinked glasses and swallowed the brandy. Both men sat in silence for a long moment, savoring the biting taste of the Corellian export and reflecting on those that they had left behind. It was Talak who broke the silence.
“I take it though that you didn’t invite me for a simple catch-up. You’ve brought me into your occasional home because of what’s on the minds of every Imperial citizen and officer.”
“And that would be?”
Talak raised his glass towards the image of the mighty Sovereign-class ship frozen in place on Pellaeon’s holographic viewer.
“The United Federation of Planets and its Starfleet.”
“Indeed.”
“No relation to the Trade Federation, I assume.”
Pellaeon just starred at his old friend, causing Captain Talak to sigh.
“I was kidding, Gilad, you know that.“
“I should hope so, especially given that the Trade Federation has been dead for almost half a century.”
That was true; after the Confederate attack on Coruscant had resulted in both the death of Count Dooku and the destruction of the Seperatist flagship Invisible Hand, the CIS had gone downhill and had ceased to exist by the time a month had passed. The remnants of groups like the Intergalactic Banking Clan, the Techno Union, and the Trade Federation had been absorbed into Palpatine’s New Order and have provided the Empire with much of its punch during the early years before the dark times. Before the Rebellion.
In that moment of introspection, Talak had initiated the playback on the recording and watched as the Enterprise-E made a sweeping arc around a medium-sized Yuuzhan Vong cruiser, unleashing its deadly -- at least by Federation standards -- arsenal of phaser and torpedoes fire on the living vessel.
“Is this footage from last week’s assault on their capital system?”
Admiral Pellaeon nodded.
“Partly. The Federation has turned over battle records from the last decade of their own battles to the Republic, which in turn made their way in ISB’s hands and now mine. This particular data track contains footage from the aforementioned assault, and two Federation battle engagements that they call Wolf 359 and AR-558.”
“Uh-huh. So, you’re not worried about the fact that my clearance isn’t exactly up to that required to view this footage?
“No.”
“Oh, okay then. Allow me to return the favor when the ISB comes crashing down your door.”
“I was kidding, Asgar.”
“Kidding, you say?” Talak leaned forward, that impish look in his eyes once again present. “Who are you and what have you done with Admiral Pellaeon?”
Pellaeon chuckled softly for a moment before his serious expression manifested itself once more.
“That brings up a relevant point, however, Asgar.”
He held up one of the data pads he had on the table.
“This pad contains information on an area of the Federation galaxy known as the Gamma Quadrant. It’s noteworthy because of that region’s most powerful entity, something called the Dominion. Committed to cultural and physical domination against those who don’t share their viewpoint of the universe.”
“An Empire by any other name.”
“Perhaps. But the disturbing part of this data shows that the leaders of this Dominion are a race of xenophobic shape-shifters, who were responsible for much widespread carnage and disaster in the years leading up to their war with this Federation.”
As humorous as he could be, Talak knew when to be serious.
“Either one of us could have been a Changeling at this moment.”
“And in a position to influence events within the Empire.”
“In your case, yes. But I don’t see how I could possibly influence the Empire; I’m simply the commander of a vessel that should have been decommissioned years ago.”
Again, Pellaeon held up another data-pad, an image of a trefoil design visible alongside assorted text that had been translated to Basic.
“I have here the example of another regional power within the Federation’s territory, the Kingon Empire. According to this, a changeling impersonated a high-ranking General, who used his position and his having the ear of the then-chancellor, one Gowron, to start a short-lived war between their Empire and the Federation.”
“I hardly think my word or opinion matters that much to you, Gilad.”
“And you’d be right on some counts. But I do value your thoughts on certain matters, Asgar. And if you were a Changeling, then such a value could be used against all of us, especially now.”
“I take it the Moffs haven’t exactly had a positive reaction to all of this.”
Pellaeon shrugged.
“The Moff Council is unsure what to make of all of this. It’s like the introduction of the Yuuzhan Vong, of the idea that a species exists outside of the Outer Rim.”
“But they’re worried.”
“Yes, as am I. I’m worried a great deal, Asgar. I’m worried about the Federation’s apparent alliance with this Unimatrix Zero and the technology that they wield.”
“You think that they could invade us?”
“I wouldn’t put it pass the mentality of the Moffs to believe such a thing; they‘re still thinking the Rebels are going to finish us off one of these days. They‘re more worried now about the Federation and its allies than the Yuuzhan Vong. I’m simply considering all possible options -- something that very few of them do. ”
“You have to; it’s in your job description as the leader of all Imperial forces, after all.”
Talak chuckled softly, then turned quite serious.
“What do you need me to do, Gilad?”
“I want you to take the Flying Dagger and patrol the outer border of the Empire. You’ll be focusing on these coordinates,“ Pellaeon explained as he handed his old friend one of the data pads. “If there is anything unusual at all, then observe, but do not engage. We…I need to know exactly what we’re dealing with if something happens.”
“Have the Moffs authorized this kind of operation?”
“They’ve ordered the fleet to be put on standby in the event of a Federation or Milky Way-led attack. But we can’t keep it like that forever. Our contacts and operatives on Coruscant are watching the talks closely, which should begin within the standard day. Of course, so will the media.”
“And theYuuzhan Vong, too.”
“That’s why I need your patrolling the border. I doubt the Vong would take advantage of this instance and invade the Empire, but one should never take chances.”
Captain Talak looked down at the directives and absorbed as quickly and as efficiently as he could. Then he looked up, his impish grin returning and his left arm moving to give Pellaeon a sloppy salute.
“It will be as you command, Admiral.”
“Thank you, Asgar.”
“You’re welcome. Now how’s about another shot of brandy for the road?”
***
Location: San Francisco
Earth, Milky Way Galaxy
For the umpteenth time in as many days, Cortin Zweller stood before the black monoliths of Section 31, finishing the delivering of his report to the Cabal of his assignment onboard the Ralroost. The Monoliths were silent, each of the twelve beings behind the obsidian blocks processing the information that Zweller had presented.
“So there was Yuuzhan Vong activity on board one of the lead Republic’s ships,” one of the monoliths said at last.
“If the sample is correct, than yes. A question remains, though, is how long that individual was onboard the Ralroost. He could have come in the aftermath of Nas Choka’s attack in preparation of Tsavong Lah’s own assault -- or perhaps even farther back, when the Crix Madine came through alongside the Enterprise.”
“Either way, it makes it more and more likely of Yuuzhan Vong involvement in the Council bombing.”
“Yes. That also brings up whether or not this agent or agents, if they were responsible for the bombing, were alone.”
“Our eyes our still on Senator Shesh, Agent Zweller.”
“I have no doubt of that, sirs. But I’d also like to once again bring up the possibility that a Federation councilor or official may have aided in the process.”
The room was silent as Zweller’s renewed proposal sunk in. Such a thing didn’t seem possible. But then as Morjod’s coup on Q’ono’S had shown, no sane Klingon would have blown up the Great Hall.
“That possibility, while not rejected, hasn’t been accepted, either. Other agents are attempting to gather their own data from the investigation, but you can imagine the difficulty they are facing.”
“Of course.”
It wasn’t an exaggeration. Over the past week, almost every manner of official in both galactic governments had passed through the ruined halls of the Federation Council’s primary meeting chamber. With everyone from Starfleet Security and Intelligence to Jedi to NRI agents investigating, it had been difficult for Section 31 to conduct its own investigations of the matter.
“In any event, you’re certain you were not detected while onboard the Ralroost?”
“Reasonably.”
There was another long silence. This time, Zweller was slightly worried.
“What do you mean by ‘reasonably’,” the foremost monolith finally asked, very slowly, very dangerously.
“To be frank, it was too easy. The DNA samples were just lying there, isolated yes, but still there. And not one was paying me any heed. While it could be argued that they were too focused on repairing the damage to the Ralroost, it just didn’t feel right, sirs.”
The silence continued to last, furthering Zweller’s cause for worry. He had seen what had happened to those that had --
“Cortin,” the lead monolith said at last, “We’re at a delicate point now. We can’t falter now. You’ve been a valuable asset to this organization. But if this comes back to bite us in our posteriors, then, well, you know the consequences.”
Of course he did; the consequences were exactly what he had been ordered to perform upon Admiral Alynna Nechayev should his masters command it. But he tried not to give it much thought. Death, while once called the ultimate adventure in life by ancient Earth writer J.M. Barrie, was one adventure that Zweller had no desire to experience anytime soon.
“Understood sirs.”
“Good. Very good. The rest of the meeting does not concern you, though your presence, as always, is appreciated.”
The monoliths winked out for the umpteenth time as they had done so many times before, leaving Zweller in the darkness as he pondered what role he still had to play in all of this.
***
Location: Tipoca City
Kamino, The Galaxy Far, Far Away
“Welcome to Kamino, Shinzon of Remus. I am Minister Banu Le. If you will please follow with me, refreshments await you in the main foyer.”
“Thank you, Minister.”
The leader of Remus and Romulus and his Reman escort quickly followed the Kaminoan escort across the stormy threshold into the calm, white interior of their administration buildings. While water was a scarcity on Remus, the onsalught of so much water all had once had put at least one of his Reman guards into a state of wonderment and bewilderment. Shinzon, however, needed all of his wits about him. This was a critical and crucial juncture that he now faced and he could ill afford to slip up here and now.
The bright, almost pure-light style of the Kaminoan administrative offices was far, far different from the dark, neo-deco style favored by the Romulan Star Empire -- or the natural, ramshackle style that the Remans had been used to for the centuries of Romulan occupation. In their mannerisms, the Kaminoans were quite similar to the -- and this was simply what Shinzon had heard from -- unbelievably pleasant.
Minister Banu Le led them through the corridors of brilliant light until they had at last reached what Shinzon assumed was the Kaminoan equivalent of a receiving room. Two chairs that seemed grow from the floor and were pillars of light unto themselves greeted as Banu Le directed him to sit. As Shinzon lowered his form atop the cushions and was handed a hot beverage from an attendant, he noted a look of
“Is something wrong, Minister?”
Banu Le hesitated for a moment..
“Forgive me; we are used normally to discussing matters of such importance without bodyguards in our presence.”
He of course was referring to Shinzon’s complement of Reman foot soldiers, who weren’t exactly thrilled with how Banu Le was describing them and Shinzon was tempted to join his brothers in that regard. However, he kept his cool.
“These men and I fought alongside the battlefields of Goloroth and a dozen other hellholes. I trust them with my life. However, if it will make you feel more comfortable, I will have them wait outside.”
Banu Le nodded, his mind focusing on memories of long ago as the Remans exited the chamber. Though he had never heard of Goloroth, the cloned soldiers of a now dead bounty hunter and the bonds that they had shared during three years of sustained conflict.
“Thank you. My people are also…wary of combat.”
“I can assure you that this will never be the case again if our negotiations are fruitful, Minister.”
“Indeed. So, let us talk. What can the cloners of Kamino do for you?”
***
Location: Gamma Quadrant
Milky Way Galaxy
The Dominion, unlike their counterparts in the Alpha and Beta Quadrants, did not have a habit of giving fanciful names and designations to their ships. The vessel that Odo and his group had beamed aboard was simply designated by the Jem’Hadar as Attack Vessel 1607. Odo had previously used Attack Vessel 971 as his personal flagship whenever he had left the Great Link, but it had been destroyed when the rogue Borg had attacked them less than two weeks earlier.
He, Weyoun, and Tarana’tar would both be dead and Starfleet would have had no idea of what was happening in the Gamma Quadrant had it not been for the timely arrival of the Defiant. And while a part of him longed to be back on the second ‘tough little ship’ to bear the name of Defiant, he knew he was needed here, on the ship built by the order of his people.
Contact with the other Founders through the Callinon VII relay had directed Odo to bring the fleet to coordinates near the most recent incursion by rogue Borg forces. It was less than a week away at maximum warp. They could have arrived sooner if Axum’s transwarp drive wasn’t on the fritz; the Diamond had been hastily repaired and regeneration was still ongoing following the battle for Sector 001.
So, everything had been normal aboard Attack Vessel 1607 -- or as normal as it could be aboard a Jem’Hadar vessel. Or rather, it had been normal up to the point where every alarm and sensor panel on the bridge of the Dominion vessel began lighting up and sounding off one after the other.
“What is it?”
“We are detecting transwarp signatures,” barked Tarana’tar. Weyoun consulted his console, then looked back at his god.
“The First is correct, Founder.”
Like many before him, Odo had a bad feeling about this, especially since Axum hadn’t made any mention of reinforcements until they arrived at the designated coordinates but kept his cool, both because it was what he did and also to keep Weyoun from becoming worried about the state of the Founder.
“Hail Axum’s Diamond, Weyoun.”
The Vorta administrator nodded and within moments had opened a channel.
“Axum, do you copy?”
“Losing…not…”
There was nothing but static as the words suddenly winked out. Weyoun look distressed, but more so at having failed his god than in the loss of communication with Axum.
“Founder, I regret that we have lost our contact with the Diamond. But it is not just the Unimatrix Zero vessel. We are also unable to communicate with the other Dominion vessels or the Defiant.”
“Keep trying, Weyoun, while --”
Odo was cut off again by the sound that anyone who utilized technology dreaded, the ominous sound of a ship’s power core shutting down. Through his Dominion headset, Odo could see the stars revert from their stretched form that they seemed to possess during warp travel --
-- just as a transwarp conduit opened two thousand kilometers ahead of them, permitting a small Borg force on the order of half a dozen interceptors, three Assimilators, and a sphere to enter space that was claimed by the mighty fascistic power of the Gamma Quadrant.
“Ah, success. We have regained contact with the diamond, Founder,” Weyoun said through the confusion.
“Put him through.”
The static was replaced slowly by Axum’s voice, hazy though understandable.
“…damm rotating electro-magnetic pulse. Constable, can you hear me now?”
“Yes what’s going on?”
“I’ve got bad news and I’ve got worse news. The bad news is that those ships are not ours.”
Odo had thought as much.
“And the worse news?”
“Those ships are using a gravity-well generator that the Borg assimilated from Species 997, I think. What that means is that as long as it’s active, all warp travel is impossible.”
“And your transwarp drive?”
“Even if it was back online, it wouldn’t do us any good. The Borg assimilated this technology in the first place because it was able to pull vessels out of transwarp.”
“So as the Earth expression goes, we’re sitting ducks?”
“Pretty much.”
***
Location: Coruscant
That Galaxy Far, Far Away
Designed by noted Earth physicist Emory Erickson, the transporter had been one of the crowning achievements of post-World War III Earth and had become integral to the very life-style of the warp-capable species of the Alpha and Beta Quadrants. Captain Picard had to admit that, the flight down to Earth in the Argo shuttle and to Coruscant in The Gray Spirit notwithstanding, he had become too used to traveling from locale to locale with the aid of a transporter rather than in the days of old through shuttle pod or shuttle craft.
He couldn’t help but note this to himself as the Republic Hovercar lifted off from the landing pad of the Imperial Palace. While diplomatic functions were normally held at the Palace, an event as momentous as the contact between the New Galactic Republic and the United Federation of Planets called for the function to be held in the an assembly hall adjacent to the Atrium of the Senate. Picard didn’t mind. It allowed him to glimpse more and more of this wondrous planet.
And to get a better glimpse of the playing field, too.
He hated thinking of the impending negotiations along the lines of a three-dimensional chess match, but there really was no other way to see it. They were now on Senator Shesh’s home turf and even with the aid of Princess Leia Organa Solo, he had a feeling that Shesh wouldn’t be pulling any of her political punches. There had been now word on the Senator’s doings since they had arrived, but the Captain had a feeling that she had something special planned for them once the negotiations were under way.
While his team had been talkative amongst themselves and Queen Quital, Princess Leia had been oddly quiet in the moments since the ship had engaged its repulsorlift and had lifted off. Perhaps she had been reflecting also on the trials to come. Or perhaps, her thoughts turned towards her husband and the rest of her family, still in the Alpha Quadrant. Perhaps even --
…
That was odd. Through the transparisteel panels of the hovercar, he could see the Atrium of the Senate looming to their right. Yet, the hovercar made no motion to turn towards their designation. For a moment, Picard thought that they were simply coming around for a long pass. But this was apparently not the case as the craft continued unabated in its course away from the Senate building.
Why were they heading pass the Atrium?
He looked at Leia, seeking an explanation. She, however, did not see him as she had closed her eyes, apparently reaching out with her mind or for some thought that eluded her. And then her eyes opened, a look of shock and fear in the eyes of one of the New Republic’s elder statesmen.
She was motioning towards the guards and the pilots with her head and mouthing something. Picard strained to read what she was saying. Why speak in this way? Why not just speak aloud and --
Picard’s blood ran cold, his eyes widening. It couldn’t be possible, it couldn’t? But it was. Princess Leia had no reason to deceive him on their way to the first true diplomatic encounter between both worlds; the level of honesty and directness that she had shown him and his Federation comrades since rescuing them at Naboo a month ago didn’t make that possible.
Why else would Leia mouth the words “Yuuzhan Vong”?
**
Location: The Q Continuum
Somewhere in the Universe
“Here’s Johnny,” Q muttered as the storm clouds continued cackling above the trio of Q unaffected by the apparent mass-lobotomy. As a master of space and time, Q was many things, both figuratively and literally. In this instance, he was both the master of the one-liner and increasingly worried, if slightly terrified.
He had been on occasion called before the Great and Powerful Q on occasions such as his expulsion from the Continuum and prior to leading the charge of the rebel Q following the death of Quinn. Q wished he could say that the Q’s leader was all bark and no bite. Unfortunately, this was wistful thinking, as was the hope that he would not appear, a hope that was dashed as lightning suddenly struck the ground in front of them.
And there he was, riding the lightning, so to speak.
The Great and Powerful Q was dressed similarly to Q’s twenty-first century judge’s robes, but there were several differences. Most notably, the colors were reversed; the main robe was now black rather than the red-orange tint that it had normally possessed. Q paid little attention to that, but he could see the Stranger’s -- though he was standing alongside him, Q had eyes in the side of his head, in a manner of speaking anyway -- frown deepened at the sight of the clothing.
As Earth’s Bard had once written, ‘His celestial breath was sulphurous to smell,’ and the leader of the Q was no exception. Jokes had gone on behind his back about this and other odd little personality quirks and conservative, all encompassing nature for eons and had gone up right until the aforementioned mass lobotomy of the collective group entities known as the Q.
“Who dares transcend into the realm of the Great and Powerful -- ”
“Oz?” Q asked rather innocently, his humor masking his attempt to screw his courage to the sticking place. It was after all in his nature to fall back on the role as master of the one-liner in times of despair. The leader of the Q, however, was not in the least bit amused.
“You,” he said with contempt, his voice grounding out each syllables like a diamond-edged blade hammered into rock. Q tried not to let the intimidation get to him.
“U? No, no, It’s not U. It‘s Q!”
From behind him, Q heard his wife and son groan.
“Dad, don’t heckle the Great and Powerful --”
That was all that q uttered before his chastising of his father suddenly ceased, leaving only the wind to fill his ears. Reluctantly and with some degree of trepidation about him, Q glanced back at his family and then to his side at the Stranger. They had gone rigid and silent, unmoving. But they were still alive and conscious, he could see that. Q stepped forward cautiously and surveying them, even poking and prodding for a few seconds. He half expected them to blurt out the words “oil can” at any moment, but nothing occurred.
“Hmm. They’re just like the Lincoln exhibit at Disneyland,” Q couldn’t help but note aloud. before turning back to face his fellow entity, knowing from the get go that even with a being that literally and figuratively had eyes in the back of his head, he should have used them to gaze upon his family or at least keep an eye on the Q’s leader.
And for once in his existence, Q was indeed correct in the analysis of the errors of his ways. In a flash, Q had fallen to the ground, his hand clutched around his throat, the Great and Powerful Q’s hand outstretched in a grasping motion. Master of space and time that he was, Q recognize what his counterpart was doing.
“And I thought the Sith had the market on that one,” Q gasped as the air deserted what the Q considered lungs and everything went mercifully black.
***
To be continued…
***
* Jem’Hadar Attack ship 971 first appeared in “Olympus Descending”, the Dominion entry in “The Worlds of Deep Space Nine”. If you haven’t picked it up, I highly recommend it, for it does what DS9 did best. It takes our prior views and knowledge of the Great Link and their empire and then alters everything we thought we knew about Odo and his people.
* The incident with Reed and Tucker occurred in ENT’s “Shuttlepod One”.
* Captain Asgar Talak -- and the Flying Dagger for that manner -- is an original creation of mine.
* The Borg ship designations come from Star Trek: Armada II. The interceptors are the ships from “Dark Frontier” and the Assimilator is the rogue Borg ship used by Lore in “Descent”.
Last edited by JME2 on 2005-02-05 05:26pm, edited 1 time in total.
EDIT: Very nice, this chapter should be called: Setting up no end of intresting and dramatic Cliff hangers in as few words as possible.
As Seven of Nine (Tertiary Adjunct of Unimatrix 1 [or however that went]) would say:
Effecient.
I Like the Flying Dagger. A title elegant in its Simplicity.
As you are taking ship names and the like from the Armada verse. I was wondering if you'd also incorparated it's event into your ST timeline. Alos The assimilate was not Lore's Borg's style of Ship. At least not in the first Armada game...
Last edited by Crazedwraith on 2005-02-05 05:20pm, edited 1 time in total.
A good chapter. You're obviously setting up for so much, I can hardly wait.
I loved this bit:
JME2 wrote:before the dark times. Before the Rebellion.
"I want to mow down a bunch of motherfuckers with absurdly large weapons and relative impunity - preferably in and around a skyscraper. Then I want to fight a grim battle against the unlikely duo of the Terminator and Robocop. The last level should involve (but not be limited to) multiple robo-Hitlers and a gorillasaurus rex."--Uraniun235 on his ideal FPS game
"The ability to destroy a planet is insignificant compared to the power of the Force."--Darth Vader
GAH! I thought there was an update! Don't do this to me!
*slinks back into the shadows, muttering to herself*
DPDarkPrimus is my boyfriend!
SDNW4 Nation: The Refuge And, on Nova Terra, Al-Stan the Totally and Completely Honest and Legitimate Weapons Dealer and Used Starship Salesman slept on a bed made of money, with a blaster under his pillow and his sombrero pulled over his face. This is to say, he slept very well indeed.
. And best of all for everybody complaining about the lack of apperance by the Imperials in the story, well, guess who finally shows up next chapter? 
