Star Trek/Star Wars: The Best of Both Worlds
Moderator: LadyTevar
Great chapter. Ah, it's good to get my BoBW's fix. Now to read your JL/Nadia fic...
"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
"The ability to destroy a planet is insignificant compared to the power of the Force."--Darth Vader
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Kartr_Kana
- Jedi Knight
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- Location: College
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Crazedwraith
- Emperor's Hand
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- Location: Cheshire, England
PhwapPhwapPhwap.-
Kartr_Kana
- Jedi Knight
- Posts: 879
- Joined: 2004-11-02 02:50pm
- Location: College
CW Boba was trying to take Jedi Skywalker when Han turned around and misfired the jetpack. Fett and his Mandalorians are scalping Vong in one of the later NJO books I cannot remember which. Han and Leia and maybe some others are trapped on a station when the Vong attacked. Mandalorians started to fight back, aperently they had disgiused themselves as techs until the Vong attacked. Of course Mandos kick anybody so the Vong started attacking these "worthy" foes. Leia saw a huge Vong go in to a room of Mandos, seconds later the same Vong came stumbling out then fell down dead right in front of her. She then noticed that he was missing the hair he had had when he went in. She stated the the Mandos "must be taking trophies". Nothing can stop the rebirth of the Mandolorians!!! Not even the Merging!
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Crazedwraith
- Emperor's Hand
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Presice. Boba was focousing on SKywalker to the exclusion of the rest of the battle not a good quality. It got him (well i liked to say killed like a bitch but that isn;t technocally true) thrown into a veyr bad place in which he tortured for a long time....Kartr_Kana wrote:CW Boba was trying to take Jedi Skywalker when Han turned around and misfired the jetpack.
I'd forgotten about the Scapling. The incident you refer to is in the Last NJO book: The Unifiing Force which is still a couple of years off in BoBW. (Which is what presently Star by Star time?)
SO JME2 a re to voxyn going ot make an appereance any time soon?
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Kartr_Kana
- Jedi Knight
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Would you worry about a blind man who should have been incapable of anything when you had a jedi to capture? I mean helpless guy on the ground behind you or jedi trying to kill you. Come on it was not focusing on one target to the exclusion of all others it was prioritzing targets.
Vornskers? nah what would they hunt? vulcans? Q?
The only thing BoBW needs is BoBA Fett!!!
Vornskers? nah what would they hunt? vulcans? Q?
The only thing BoBW needs is BoBA Fett!!!
We're presently in the timeframe of when Star by Star took place. As we saw in Act II, Part 1, Czulkang Lah doesn't have the obssession with the Jedi that his son does and so while he's allowing the Voxyn project to continue, it's not his highest priority; he's more concerned with preventing a UFP/NR alliance than the Jedi.Crazedwraith wrote:snip
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Robert Walper
- Dishonest Resident Borg Fan-Whore
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- Location: Calgary, Alberta, Canada
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Robert Walper
- Dishonest Resident Borg Fan-Whore
- Posts: 4206
- Joined: 2002-08-08 03:56am
- Location: Calgary, Alberta, Canada
Virtues are also irrelevent.JME2 wrote:Actually, it's a virtue.Robert Walper wrote:Patience is irrelevent.JME2 wrote:Next chapter update is almost ready; should be in theory another hour or two. Thanks as always for your patience, guys.
(PS: Just give up JME2, everything is irrelevent...you can't win that arguement.
)
Sorry about that; my internet connection went screwy. Here it is:
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, Part V
“The right man is the one who seizes the moment.”
-- Johann Wolfgang von Goethe --
Author’s Notes: This chapter contains possible mild spoilers for Star Wars: Episode III -- Revenge of the Sith. Other than that, as always, enjoy.
***
Location: Imperial Remnant
That Galaxy Far, Fat Away
After Admiral Daala had united the various Imperial warlords under a single banner, then Vice-Admiral Pellaeon had pulled the Imperial war machine out of the Deep Core and into the Outer Rim. The territories offered not only raw supplies, but a chance to harass and capture New Republic shipping, much as the Rebels had done during the Civil War and the Separatists during the Clone Wars. The decisive Imperial victory at the Battle of Orinda had led many in the New Republic to agree upon less military action and more of a containment policy regarding the Empire.
Ultimately, however, the New Republic Third and Fifth fleets had sent in by then-Chief of State Leia Organa Solo when the Imperials took advantage of the Yetheva incident to reclaim lost sectors. The combined forces had stopped the reborn Imperial expansion and pushed the Remnant back into an size of space roughly the size of the United Federation of Planets on the edge of the Unknown Regions.
Despite the signing of the Imperial-Republic accords aboard the Chimera, the Moff Council had rarely, if ever, let their guard down and it wasn’t because of the Yuuzhan Vong. Too many years of fighting an enemy could do that to you and despite the Republic‘s claims, they still felt that the Rebels would come by someday to finish what they started.
So, the Moffs were near-zealous in their extensive patrolling and monitoring of the Imperial Remnant’s borders. To them, just because one was paranoid didn’t mean that someone wasn’t out to get them. Given some of the tough scrapes he had gotten himself into since his days at the Academy, Captain Asgar Talak could almost sympathize with them.
Almost.
The captain of the Flying Dagger stood overlooking the bridge of his command, the blue blur of hyperspace flashing beyond the observation ports. An Imperial-class Star Destroyer, the Flying Dagger was the quintessential symbol of the Empire’s might and unlike Pellaeon’s flagship, the Flying Dagger was a relatively modern cruiser, having come out of the shipyard at Yaga Minor shortly after the signing of the Accords.
Contrary to what some of the younger upstart commanders thought, it had not been Talak’s friendship with Pellaeon that had gained him command of the Flying Dagger. He had worked long and hard for it and despite his odd and occasionally perverse sense of humor, he was a solid and senior commander in the Imperial Remnant‘s navy. That was what had allowed him to captain this mighty collection of deadly machinery.
Well, that, and perhaps a few seconds of rather revealing and scandalous holographic footage shown to the Chief of Fleet Operations.
“Captain Talak, we are coming up on our destination,” came the voice of his second-in-command, Commander Ric Teken. Like Pellaeon, Commander Teken was a trusted confidant in a galaxy that was rife with treachery and deceit. He was talented, capable XO and Teken had no doubt that he would go on to lead a grand career as a key officer in the Imperial hierarchy.
“Good. Prepare to take us out of hyperspace,” he ordered, nodding to the engineers on duty. . Beyond the view ports, the blue glow of hyperspace was replaced by the starry expanse of deep space as the reverberation of the Flying Dagger’s sublight engines replaced that of the hyperdrive.
“We have arrived at coordinates 985 mark 776,” reported the controllers from the flight deck.
“Good. Any sign of anything unusual or any hostile craft?”
“Not yet, sir. Shall we commence primary scanning procedures?”
“Yes. Keep the gunners and fighter crews ready, just in case. We‘re not here to take risks. Risk is not our business, after all.”
He liked it when he could get both serious and philosophical at the same time. His normally impish sense of humor, when combined these traits, tended to confuse the hell out of both allies and foes, something that had come in handy on more than one occasion. When the ISB and COMPNOR had been in full effect, it would have been impossible to do. But he could get away with it nowadays and as long as he kept it toned down to occasional use, it was fine.
“Aye Captain.”
***
Location: Ashalla
Bajor, Milky Way Galaxy
The view as they had descended from the Rio Grande hadn’t done the two Jedi’s views on Bajor any justice. The planet was, like the inhabitants of the Milky Way Galaxy themselves, unlike anything they had seen throughout their travels in the Core, the Mid and Outer Rims, and beyond. They were in conversation with Vedek Ebosh as they strolled through the meditative and tranquil gardens of the Ashalla monastery.
“…were nine orbs when the Cardassian Occupation began,” Ebosh was saying. “When the Cardassians were driven off, only the Orb of Prophecy and Change was left to us. In the ensuing years, we’ve recovered the Orbs of Time, Wisdom, and Contemplation, but the Orbs of Destiny, Souls, Memory, Truth, and Unity are still lost to Bajor.”
“Are they still on Cardassia?”
A saddened look came to the Vedek’s eyes.
“Cardassian, Bajoran, and Federation archeologists and teams have been trying to locate them since the end of the War, but they have had no luck in locating them on the Cardassian captial.”
“We don’t know where it is, but we sure know where it isn’t,” Mara said, quoting an old salvager’s phrase that she had become familiar with when she had worked with the Smuggler’s Alliance.
“Exactly. The consensus among the Assembly is that the Obsidian Order hid them away where we’ll never be able to reclaim one of Bajor’s greatest treasures.”
Luke considered this, something occurring to him.
“You said there were nine Orbs. I recall reading that there were ten.”
Vedek Ebosh seemed confused for a moment, then a look of understanding came to his weathered face.
“Ah, you speak of the Orb of the Emissary.”
“He showed me I believe the Prophets may hold the key to averting the coming cataclysm.”
“Coming cataclysm?”
“A trial by fire, if you will.”
The Vedek seemed stunned at Luke’s almost casual discussion of universal Armageddon.
“But that makes no sense. The Emissary defeated the Pah-Wraiths. By Shabren's Fifth Prophecy, Bajor has entered a golden age and a thousand years of peace and prosperity.”
Where Luke had once been tempted to dismiss prophecies as unsubstantiated and superstitious, he know kew all too well the powers of precognition that the Force had occasionally granted those versed in its power from himself to the Emperor.
“And I have no doubt of that. But five gods told me that the universe is moving towards destruction and we need to find a way to stop it. I believe the Orbs hold the key to discovering how to win.”
***
Location: Tipoca City
Kamino, That Galaxy Far, Far Away
There was a stunned silence as Shinzon struggled to recover from the bombshell that Minister Banu Le had just dropped upon him. He could feel terror and his genetic disordere tearing at his gut. The recently-ascended Praetor was losing his patience and it took all of his self-control and willpower -- which were above average given of course that, in one regard, he was Jean-Luc Picard -- to not throw his Reman dagger into the pale alien’s face.
“I am dying.”
“Yes, Praetor, you have said that, but --”
“I. Am. Dying. My condition is beginning to accelerate. I will pay any price you seek, accomplish whatever you desire.”
Banu Le sat silently, contemplating and considering the Reman centurion’s words for a long moment.
“That does not need to be discussed as of yet. No, you misunderstood my words, Praetor Shinzon.”
“Oh?”
“I said that I cannot do anything alone. Even with though we are no longer at the height of our production as we were half a century before, all cloning procedures and customs are still the same. All cloning requests and ventures must be considered by the Cloner’s Council.”
The dull ache in Shinzon’s gut and form began to subside, replaced by hope. But then another thought occurred to him.
“How long would this take?”
“Your timing was actually impeccable. The council meets once during one of your standard months and this month‘s meeting is tomorrow.
There was a time in the affairs of men -- or Remans in this case -- when fortune shines through the clouds, where trumpets can be heard in conjunction with a drum roll and the lilting sound of harps. Shinzon knew the feeling quite well; he had first felt it during the mission to Goloroth and how that had set much of the present day’s situation into effect.
“I can’t authorize anything by myself, you must understand that. The Cloner’s Council will hear your case, but as I said, I can’t promise anything. I will do what I can and argue on your behalf.
“This will take at least a day. You are welcome to stay here within the chambers of Tipoca City.
“I will be returning to the Scimitar if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all. I will contact you when the council meeting has adjourned.
“Thank you minister.”
***
Location: U.S.S. Enterprise-E
Alpha Quadrant
Sweat poured from the dome of his forehead, the natural body coolant filtering down into the crevice of his eyes, blurring his vision. But he ignored it as he had on so many occasions. He was in his element. The lady luck was with him and the Force was his, or so he hoped.
“Well?”
The question was directed at him. He starred down at the objects in his hands, then back into the determined eyes of those opposite to him. His shoulders fell as he slouched forward in seeming defeat --
-- only to rush upwards as he laid the objects in front of his seated opponents
“Read ’em and weep, boys,” Han Solo said, a grin twelve parsecs wide spreading across his face as Riker and laForge both groaned as they gazed upon his Straight Flush.
Following their meeting over dinner, the chief engineer and acting Captain had retired to participated, even by themselves, in the senior staff’s annual Friday night poker game. It was a tradition that they had carried through their time on the Enterprise-D and even with the senior staff spread to the four corners of the galaxy and beyond, they were determined to uphold it.
Or at least they were until Han had asked if he could play along.
“He gives Data and Worf a run for the money of best poker face,” Geordi muttered as Han scooped his chips into his corner of the table.
“Hey, it’s not sabbac. But it...”
Han trailed off as he glanced over at the communications panel. Riker kept it tuned to current events on Earth and it had been playing softly in the backgorund -- until now. The scene was the sealed off exterior of the Federation Council, rubble and debris from both the bombing and the Yuuzhan Vong landing dotting the expanse of the building. Admiral Nechayev stood next to the tall, solemn form of Senator Ob’rin, Klestron IV’s representative to the Federation Council as they held their press-conference for the Federation News Bureau.
“…continued support of the Federation-Republic initiative will only result in a strain greater than any that the Federation has experienced. We must take steps to insure that the Yuuzhan Vong understand that we mean no threat and that we will --”
“Can you believe that bantha fodder?” Han asked.
“Well, she’s gaining support. Now that the initial uproar over both Vong attacks and the Council bombing had subsided, people are beginning to remember that we’re only four years removed from the Dominion War. And the fact that we’ve got Tsavong Lah in custody isn’t helping.”
‘Speaking of which, where have you got ol’ ugly locked up?”
Riker sighed.
“I don’t know. And if I did, I couldn’t share it with you.”
“Well, you could tell me what you know.”
Riker and Geordi both just starred at Solo, causing the ex-smuggler to abandon his grin and to take on a dark expression upon his weathered face.
“Look, this guy tried to kill my wife and son and he’s directly responsible for thousands of deaths on both sides of the wormhole. I have a right to know.”
Riker was silent for a moment.
“Starfleet Security and Intelligence are being silent on the issue,” he said at last. “If Admiral Uhura were still around, we might be able to get an answer, but she’s vanished for parts unknown.”
“Investigating that phantom ship that pretty much kicked the Vong’s ugly mugs?”
“I’d suspect so, but it’s not my business to inquire. My sole focus right now is on seeing that the Enterprise-E is back up and running by the time Captain Picard returns. He isn’t the only one who runs a tight ship.”
“That’s why I feel sorry for the Titan crew,” said Geordi. For not the first time in his life, a look of confusion materialized on the Corellian’s face.
“The Titan?”
“A new Starfleet vessel,” explained Riker. “If we hadn’t run into you, Deanna and I would be on board since I accepted the captainship.”
Solo considered this for a moment.
“So you mean once your Captain returns, you’ll be in command of new ship, with a new, young crew to terrorize?”
“Yes.”
Han’s twelve-parsec wide grin returned.
“I’ll drink to that. And you‘re sure this stuff isn‘t alcoholic?”
Han had sworn off all alcohol in the year and a half since he had come out of his depression over the death of Chewbacca.
“Yes. That’s why it’s called synthenol.”
“Well, this stuff could put a couple of people I know back home out of a --”
Solo was interrupted as Riker’s uniform communicator beeped, signaling an incoming communication.
“Bridge to Commander Riker,” came the disembodied voice.
Riker tapped the communicator on his uniform.
“Riker here, go ahead.”
“Sir, a Republic ship just exited the wormhole. The pilot is asking for Captain Solo.”
Riker and Geordi both glanced at Han, who proceeded to shrug.
“Don’t look at me. I didn’t invite anybody through that celestial tunnel.”
“Could it be someone from your High Command?”
“If that was the case, why ask for me? Krey’Fey and bel Iblis both hold a higher rank than me and besides,” he said with a hint of a smile returning, “I’m supposed to be retired from the Defense Force. Maybe it’s for Leia and they don‘t that she‘s on Coruscant.”
“Do you have any more data on the pilot?” Riker asked the bridge officer.
“Checking. He says his name is Kyp Durron.”
***
Location: U.S.S. Paradox
31st Century, Alpha Quadrant, Milky Way Galaxy
It had long been postulated, debated, and observed by historians that history had a tendency of repeating itself. Lessons, behaviors, and actions that humanity should have learned with ease were instead seemingly lost and repeated with the next generation and the next. As a member of DTI, Daniels knew this to be all too true and he was now living it as the emergency klaxons onboard the Paradox’s bridge began blaring once again.
“Report!”
“Incoming report from the Relativity. Temporal shockwave is approaching across the timespace.”
“Time and location?”
“Calculating now. Spatial coordinates 2501-J by 3614-E, Stardate 56844.5 Shall I display the results?”
“At once.”
The Krenim-designed temporal/spatial viewer flared to life once more, the exact time and location of the historical change that the Relativity and Paradox had monitored coming in clear. Axum took one look at the incoming data and was tempted to curse in a number of languages that, at least by the thirty-first century, were dead.
“The situation does indeed appear dire. His death will affect the stability of that region and the relationship between his people and the interstellar community for years, if not, centuries to come.”
“It could also likely contribute to the formation of the anomaly that we are faced with.”
“Based on the current data, That is not an unwarranted assumption.”
“And is the same energy signature present here from the last attack?”
“Scanning. Yes.”
Daniels was silent, the cogs of his highly talented mind formulating an appropriate response to the current phase of the crisis.
“Contact the DTI. Explain to them the urgency of the situation and request permission to conduct a temporal incursion.
“And if the request is denied?”
“Then prepare the incursion anyway.”
“Yes, sir.”
***
Location: Yammka’s Mount
Galactic Void, That Galaxy Far, Far Away
Though he had only been master and commander of the recently re-christened Yammka’s Mount for the better part of several klekkets, Supreme Commander Nas Choka more or less knew the living warship like the back of his scarred hand. The ship had served him well during his campaigns in Hutt space and in Sector 001. Now it was the command ship of the new Warmaster.
And on the subject of which...
Choka had engaged on his usal inspection of his vessel of war before proceeding to his meeting with Warmaster Czulkang Lah, whose quarters he was admitted to by the loyal warriors who guarded the chamber of command. Czulkang was sitting on the floor of his quarters, a villip facing him back.
He had not removed his enhanced vonduun crab armor. Without it, the old master of war would have been unable to move on his own. It was a testament to his age and his cunning in battle that he was still alive and how lucky the Yuuzhan Vong were to have him now leading the charge against the infidels of both this galaxy and the ‘Milky Way’.
Unfortunatly, a Shaper was in the process of learning the flip-side of having the gold dog of war in the land of the living.
“The answer is no, Shaper Chak‘ar.”
“But Warmaster, the project --”
“You will continue to research as you wish. But you will not receive the resources you have requested.”
“But --”
Before the subordinate could continue, Lah waved his hands, signaling the villip to terminate the communication as he turned to face Choka.
“Idiots," he muttered.
“Shaper Chak‘ar is assigned to Project Voxyn, is he not, Warmaster?”
Lah nodded.
When the Yuuzhan Vong had first encountered the Jedi almost two years earlier, it was believed that the race that had once been the guardians of peace and justice in the Old Republic gained their powers through technological enhancement or exhalations of the great Yun-Yuuzhan. Either way, they were seen as even greater abominations than the infidels.
Then Jacen Solo had made the situation worse for the Jedi by besting Czulkang Lah’s son in combat during the taking of Duro. The Warmaster had essentially called open season on the Jeddai and almost every step they Vong had taken since them had been directed, both in terms of resources consumption and battle engagements. The Attendants had not been happy with the re-direction of resources needed for their occupied worlds, but they had had no choice but to obey the Warmaster unless the Supreme Overlord had ordered otherwise.
Until now.
“Yes. The voxyn are needed, but they are not my priority and neither is the rescuing of that idiot that is my son. The Jeddai are not the primary threat anymore, this ‘Federation’ is. The fools are simply too dedicated to their arts and using the seven cortexes of knowledge handed down by the gods to realize the tactical threat we now face. I take it that is why you are here now?”
It was Choka’s turn to nod.
“Yes, Warmaster.”
“Then report to me, Supreme Commander. What news?”
Choka sighed.
“We have received no word from the Coruscant warriors.”
“Nothing through either the villip or the infidels‘ ‘Holo-Net’ networks?”
“No.”
Lah mulled on this for a moment, his claw-like hands stroking the bare, scarred flesh of his cragged chin.
“If they have failed, we will know soon enough. Though I dispatched some of the most skilled infiltrators and assassins we possesses, I acknowledge that there is a possibility that they may fail.”
“And if they do?”
“Then another strategy will present itself and I have several thoughts in mind. Until then, without facts, I can only speculate as to the difficulties they faced or are facing in their task.”
***
Location: Coruscant
That Galaxy Far, Away
“Do-ro’ik vong pratte!”
“Stop shooglin' around ya wee bastad," Scotty yelled in return. Though he had become more devoted to both the engines of the Enterprise and Enterprise-A as well as the S.C.E. than his own body, he still packed a punch as the Scotsman body-slammed the warrior facing him into the wall.
The fight for the hovercar had quickly dissolved into a close-quarters melee as teeth, sweat, blood, amphistaff venom, and curses in a multitude of languages from Nubian to Yuuzhan Vong filled the hovercar. The distinctive snap-hiss of a light saber’s energy blade quickly joined the cacophony of sounds as Leia raised her Jedi weapon and began striking against the amphistaffs, their tick molecular density able to prevent her from completely slicing through the lethal weapons.
This was not the weapon that she had used for years and built by herself; that had been destroyed by Tsavong Lah at Duro. It was instead the lightsaber that Luke had built for her in the years between the Battle of Endor and Grand Admiral Thrawn’s campaign. Despite her limited training -- since politics had always been the more dominant aspect of her life as opposed to the ways of the Jedi, something that she couldn‘t help but wonder if her father, General Kenobi, and Yoda had always intended-- she was a decent, if average swordsman.
They had taught Luke, who had then taught her and his students, that the old Jedi Order had developed seven different fighting styles around their legendary weapon. Luke’s style was and always had been known as Form V and utilized a combination of agility with brute strength. It had been necessary for him to become familiar with this since their father utilized the same style. Leia’s own style was classified more along the lines of Form I and Form III, a combination of basic swordplay and defense.
Leia thus now held her ground, lashing out with these dueling techniques that Obi-Wan and Yoda had passed onto to her brother and through him, to her. As she fought, she reached a balance point of sorts in the miasma of her thoughts that had been building since the Millenium Falcon had been greated in the Naboo system by one of the sleekest and most elegant starships she had ever set eyes upon.
If there had been any lingering doubt in her mind that they needed the United Federation of Planets as an ally, it was banished from her mind once and for all. Their strength and unity in this close-quarters, no holds barred battle put whatever passed for it in the New Republic to shame. Data and the EMH, for example, were back to back. The Doctor had with a slight series of taps adjusted his mobile emitter to increase his density. He now packed a punch roughly equal to Data’ own superhuman strength, resulting in a repeat of the on-punch K.O that Tsavong Lah had suffered on the Enterprise-E‘s bridge over a week earlier.
All the Vong warriors were now down for the count, either unconscious -- and desperately in need of a painkiller when they awoke, though their reverence for pain would have overridden this -- or dead. Only one remained, the pilot of the hovercar who would gladly have joined the fray had he not been otherwise engaged
“It’s over,” Picard said slowly as he caught his breath, yet still casting the aura of command that he had projected during his tenures on the Stargazer and the two most recent Starships Enterprise. The sole Vong warrior looked out through the transparisteel canopyof the hovercar and the rushing cityscape of Coruscant and then back at the battered, bleeding, but still kicking Starfleet team.
“Never,” he whispered, a deadly grin forming alongside a wild look in his eyes And before anyone could make a move, he raised his amphistaff above his head. The correct motions activated the creature’s engineered, almost instinctual response. It was very much like playing a musical instrument and the chord that the warrior now played was one of focused, yet widespread destruction.
The snake-like weapon, upon the warrior’s command, shot forth the deadly venom/acid combination that many had felt the sting of since the invasion had begun two years earlier. But the concoction was not directed at the Starfleet team or the Nubian queen. The acid instead landed upon the flight console, burning through the panels and scorching the circuitry beneath the covering.
This lasted only about three seconds before two successive shots from Vaughn’s type-1 “Cricket” phaser brought down the warrior. The third shot, unfortunately, barely fazed the still spewing amphistaff, the result of the dense genetic makeup of the bio-weapon, and it was combined weight of Data and the EMH that brought the beast down as they crushed its head. By this time, the hovercraft was already pitching and yawing like a sailing ship of the ancient Earth as the Coruscant cityscape and other craft narrowly avoided being hit by the diplomatic vessel.
“Report,” Picard yelled, more so out of habit rather than circumstance.
Leia pulled herself into the flight chair; after having been forced to sit in the Wookie-sized co-pilot seat of the Millennium Falcon -- it was one of the few remnants of Chewbacca that her husband still had, though he had promised to install a new chair fit for her in place , it was relaxing, though she didn’t notice. Though not a technical wiz on the level of her son Anakin, Leia was able to take one good look to have her worst fears confirmed.
“Oh Sithspawn,” she muttered.
“What is it?”
“The amphistaff’s acid damaged the controls and flight programs. I can’t control the hovercar!”
Picard looked at her, then looking at the oncoming form of a massive Coruscant skyscraper through the canopy, less than a kilometer distant and quickly approaching. The urge to curse in pure, unbridled French returned.
“Merde.”
***
Location: Bajor
Alpha Quadrant, Milky Way Galaxy
Though Luke and Mara were well versed in the Force, even they couldn’t see everything. This was one such example where the two Jedi were currently plastered on an display viewer in a compound similar to the duck blinds used by Starfleet for investigating pre-warp cultures undetected -- made all the more possible in instance due to the psionic buffers obtained from an….anonymous seller for a reasonable price.
There were currently three figures occupying the room, watching the slow, steady walk of the two Jedi Masters. One was dressed in the uniform of the Militia, one in the robes of a Vedek, and the third in the simple robes of a monk.
“This isn’t good,” the soldier stated aloud. “It’s happening too early.”
“Yes,” agreed the Vedek. “Their presence did not occur in accordance with our predictions of when they would arrive.”
“We can blame that on the damm Borg transwarp technology,” the soldier muttered.
“And Ebosh blabbering on about the Orbs isn’t helping matters either.”
“As far as I’m concerned, it screws up the entire timetable.”
“Not necessarily.”
Both men turned to the monk, known to them for his time in peering over ancient charts and texts as well as a penchant for hasperat souffle.
“Oh? Pray tell, old friend,” said the Vedek.
“Very well. The Jedi Master Orbs are one possible key to averting the coming cataclysm.”
“Was that why you wanted the Assembly pressured into granting their request?”
“Yes. By attempting to peer into the Orbs and the ‘wisdom’ of the Prophets, the fools are instead playing right into our hands.”
***
To be continued…
***
Author’s Notes
* The list of the Bajoran orbs is not officially canon. It instead comes from the DS9 re-lanuch novels “Mission Gamma: Cathedral” and “Unity”.
* As before, the Goloroth mission can be found in “Twilight’s Wrath” from the Tales of the Dominion War anthology.
* The Lightsaber fighting styles comes from Bob Brown's webpage.
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, Part V
“The right man is the one who seizes the moment.”
-- Johann Wolfgang von Goethe --
Author’s Notes: This chapter contains possible mild spoilers for Star Wars: Episode III -- Revenge of the Sith. Other than that, as always, enjoy.
***
Location: Imperial Remnant
That Galaxy Far, Fat Away
After Admiral Daala had united the various Imperial warlords under a single banner, then Vice-Admiral Pellaeon had pulled the Imperial war machine out of the Deep Core and into the Outer Rim. The territories offered not only raw supplies, but a chance to harass and capture New Republic shipping, much as the Rebels had done during the Civil War and the Separatists during the Clone Wars. The decisive Imperial victory at the Battle of Orinda had led many in the New Republic to agree upon less military action and more of a containment policy regarding the Empire.
Ultimately, however, the New Republic Third and Fifth fleets had sent in by then-Chief of State Leia Organa Solo when the Imperials took advantage of the Yetheva incident to reclaim lost sectors. The combined forces had stopped the reborn Imperial expansion and pushed the Remnant back into an size of space roughly the size of the United Federation of Planets on the edge of the Unknown Regions.
Despite the signing of the Imperial-Republic accords aboard the Chimera, the Moff Council had rarely, if ever, let their guard down and it wasn’t because of the Yuuzhan Vong. Too many years of fighting an enemy could do that to you and despite the Republic‘s claims, they still felt that the Rebels would come by someday to finish what they started.
So, the Moffs were near-zealous in their extensive patrolling and monitoring of the Imperial Remnant’s borders. To them, just because one was paranoid didn’t mean that someone wasn’t out to get them. Given some of the tough scrapes he had gotten himself into since his days at the Academy, Captain Asgar Talak could almost sympathize with them.
Almost.
The captain of the Flying Dagger stood overlooking the bridge of his command, the blue blur of hyperspace flashing beyond the observation ports. An Imperial-class Star Destroyer, the Flying Dagger was the quintessential symbol of the Empire’s might and unlike Pellaeon’s flagship, the Flying Dagger was a relatively modern cruiser, having come out of the shipyard at Yaga Minor shortly after the signing of the Accords.
Contrary to what some of the younger upstart commanders thought, it had not been Talak’s friendship with Pellaeon that had gained him command of the Flying Dagger. He had worked long and hard for it and despite his odd and occasionally perverse sense of humor, he was a solid and senior commander in the Imperial Remnant‘s navy. That was what had allowed him to captain this mighty collection of deadly machinery.
Well, that, and perhaps a few seconds of rather revealing and scandalous holographic footage shown to the Chief of Fleet Operations.
“Captain Talak, we are coming up on our destination,” came the voice of his second-in-command, Commander Ric Teken. Like Pellaeon, Commander Teken was a trusted confidant in a galaxy that was rife with treachery and deceit. He was talented, capable XO and Teken had no doubt that he would go on to lead a grand career as a key officer in the Imperial hierarchy.
“Good. Prepare to take us out of hyperspace,” he ordered, nodding to the engineers on duty. . Beyond the view ports, the blue glow of hyperspace was replaced by the starry expanse of deep space as the reverberation of the Flying Dagger’s sublight engines replaced that of the hyperdrive.
“We have arrived at coordinates 985 mark 776,” reported the controllers from the flight deck.
“Good. Any sign of anything unusual or any hostile craft?”
“Not yet, sir. Shall we commence primary scanning procedures?”
“Yes. Keep the gunners and fighter crews ready, just in case. We‘re not here to take risks. Risk is not our business, after all.”
He liked it when he could get both serious and philosophical at the same time. His normally impish sense of humor, when combined these traits, tended to confuse the hell out of both allies and foes, something that had come in handy on more than one occasion. When the ISB and COMPNOR had been in full effect, it would have been impossible to do. But he could get away with it nowadays and as long as he kept it toned down to occasional use, it was fine.
“Aye Captain.”
***
Location: Ashalla
Bajor, Milky Way Galaxy
The view as they had descended from the Rio Grande hadn’t done the two Jedi’s views on Bajor any justice. The planet was, like the inhabitants of the Milky Way Galaxy themselves, unlike anything they had seen throughout their travels in the Core, the Mid and Outer Rims, and beyond. They were in conversation with Vedek Ebosh as they strolled through the meditative and tranquil gardens of the Ashalla monastery.
“…were nine orbs when the Cardassian Occupation began,” Ebosh was saying. “When the Cardassians were driven off, only the Orb of Prophecy and Change was left to us. In the ensuing years, we’ve recovered the Orbs of Time, Wisdom, and Contemplation, but the Orbs of Destiny, Souls, Memory, Truth, and Unity are still lost to Bajor.”
“Are they still on Cardassia?”
A saddened look came to the Vedek’s eyes.
“Cardassian, Bajoran, and Federation archeologists and teams have been trying to locate them since the end of the War, but they have had no luck in locating them on the Cardassian captial.”
“We don’t know where it is, but we sure know where it isn’t,” Mara said, quoting an old salvager’s phrase that she had become familiar with when she had worked with the Smuggler’s Alliance.
“Exactly. The consensus among the Assembly is that the Obsidian Order hid them away where we’ll never be able to reclaim one of Bajor’s greatest treasures.”
Luke considered this, something occurring to him.
“You said there were nine Orbs. I recall reading that there were ten.”
Vedek Ebosh seemed confused for a moment, then a look of understanding came to his weathered face.
“Ah, you speak of the Orb of the Emissary.”
“He showed me I believe the Prophets may hold the key to averting the coming cataclysm.”
“Coming cataclysm?”
“A trial by fire, if you will.”
The Vedek seemed stunned at Luke’s almost casual discussion of universal Armageddon.
“But that makes no sense. The Emissary defeated the Pah-Wraiths. By Shabren's Fifth Prophecy, Bajor has entered a golden age and a thousand years of peace and prosperity.”
Where Luke had once been tempted to dismiss prophecies as unsubstantiated and superstitious, he know kew all too well the powers of precognition that the Force had occasionally granted those versed in its power from himself to the Emperor.
“And I have no doubt of that. But five gods told me that the universe is moving towards destruction and we need to find a way to stop it. I believe the Orbs hold the key to discovering how to win.”
***
Location: Tipoca City
Kamino, That Galaxy Far, Far Away
There was a stunned silence as Shinzon struggled to recover from the bombshell that Minister Banu Le had just dropped upon him. He could feel terror and his genetic disordere tearing at his gut. The recently-ascended Praetor was losing his patience and it took all of his self-control and willpower -- which were above average given of course that, in one regard, he was Jean-Luc Picard -- to not throw his Reman dagger into the pale alien’s face.
“I am dying.”
“Yes, Praetor, you have said that, but --”
“I. Am. Dying. My condition is beginning to accelerate. I will pay any price you seek, accomplish whatever you desire.”
Banu Le sat silently, contemplating and considering the Reman centurion’s words for a long moment.
“That does not need to be discussed as of yet. No, you misunderstood my words, Praetor Shinzon.”
“Oh?”
“I said that I cannot do anything alone. Even with though we are no longer at the height of our production as we were half a century before, all cloning procedures and customs are still the same. All cloning requests and ventures must be considered by the Cloner’s Council.”
The dull ache in Shinzon’s gut and form began to subside, replaced by hope. But then another thought occurred to him.
“How long would this take?”
“Your timing was actually impeccable. The council meets once during one of your standard months and this month‘s meeting is tomorrow.
There was a time in the affairs of men -- or Remans in this case -- when fortune shines through the clouds, where trumpets can be heard in conjunction with a drum roll and the lilting sound of harps. Shinzon knew the feeling quite well; he had first felt it during the mission to Goloroth and how that had set much of the present day’s situation into effect.
“I can’t authorize anything by myself, you must understand that. The Cloner’s Council will hear your case, but as I said, I can’t promise anything. I will do what I can and argue on your behalf.
“This will take at least a day. You are welcome to stay here within the chambers of Tipoca City.
“I will be returning to the Scimitar if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all. I will contact you when the council meeting has adjourned.
“Thank you minister.”
***
Location: U.S.S. Enterprise-E
Alpha Quadrant
Sweat poured from the dome of his forehead, the natural body coolant filtering down into the crevice of his eyes, blurring his vision. But he ignored it as he had on so many occasions. He was in his element. The lady luck was with him and the Force was his, or so he hoped.
“Well?”
The question was directed at him. He starred down at the objects in his hands, then back into the determined eyes of those opposite to him. His shoulders fell as he slouched forward in seeming defeat --
-- only to rush upwards as he laid the objects in front of his seated opponents
“Read ’em and weep, boys,” Han Solo said, a grin twelve parsecs wide spreading across his face as Riker and laForge both groaned as they gazed upon his Straight Flush.
Following their meeting over dinner, the chief engineer and acting Captain had retired to participated, even by themselves, in the senior staff’s annual Friday night poker game. It was a tradition that they had carried through their time on the Enterprise-D and even with the senior staff spread to the four corners of the galaxy and beyond, they were determined to uphold it.
Or at least they were until Han had asked if he could play along.
“He gives Data and Worf a run for the money of best poker face,” Geordi muttered as Han scooped his chips into his corner of the table.
“Hey, it’s not sabbac. But it...”
Han trailed off as he glanced over at the communications panel. Riker kept it tuned to current events on Earth and it had been playing softly in the backgorund -- until now. The scene was the sealed off exterior of the Federation Council, rubble and debris from both the bombing and the Yuuzhan Vong landing dotting the expanse of the building. Admiral Nechayev stood next to the tall, solemn form of Senator Ob’rin, Klestron IV’s representative to the Federation Council as they held their press-conference for the Federation News Bureau.
“…continued support of the Federation-Republic initiative will only result in a strain greater than any that the Federation has experienced. We must take steps to insure that the Yuuzhan Vong understand that we mean no threat and that we will --”
“Can you believe that bantha fodder?” Han asked.
“Well, she’s gaining support. Now that the initial uproar over both Vong attacks and the Council bombing had subsided, people are beginning to remember that we’re only four years removed from the Dominion War. And the fact that we’ve got Tsavong Lah in custody isn’t helping.”
‘Speaking of which, where have you got ol’ ugly locked up?”
Riker sighed.
“I don’t know. And if I did, I couldn’t share it with you.”
“Well, you could tell me what you know.”
Riker and Geordi both just starred at Solo, causing the ex-smuggler to abandon his grin and to take on a dark expression upon his weathered face.
“Look, this guy tried to kill my wife and son and he’s directly responsible for thousands of deaths on both sides of the wormhole. I have a right to know.”
Riker was silent for a moment.
“Starfleet Security and Intelligence are being silent on the issue,” he said at last. “If Admiral Uhura were still around, we might be able to get an answer, but she’s vanished for parts unknown.”
“Investigating that phantom ship that pretty much kicked the Vong’s ugly mugs?”
“I’d suspect so, but it’s not my business to inquire. My sole focus right now is on seeing that the Enterprise-E is back up and running by the time Captain Picard returns. He isn’t the only one who runs a tight ship.”
“That’s why I feel sorry for the Titan crew,” said Geordi. For not the first time in his life, a look of confusion materialized on the Corellian’s face.
“The Titan?”
“A new Starfleet vessel,” explained Riker. “If we hadn’t run into you, Deanna and I would be on board since I accepted the captainship.”
Solo considered this for a moment.
“So you mean once your Captain returns, you’ll be in command of new ship, with a new, young crew to terrorize?”
“Yes.”
Han’s twelve-parsec wide grin returned.
“I’ll drink to that. And you‘re sure this stuff isn‘t alcoholic?”
Han had sworn off all alcohol in the year and a half since he had come out of his depression over the death of Chewbacca.
“Yes. That’s why it’s called synthenol.”
“Well, this stuff could put a couple of people I know back home out of a --”
Solo was interrupted as Riker’s uniform communicator beeped, signaling an incoming communication.
“Bridge to Commander Riker,” came the disembodied voice.
Riker tapped the communicator on his uniform.
“Riker here, go ahead.”
“Sir, a Republic ship just exited the wormhole. The pilot is asking for Captain Solo.”
Riker and Geordi both glanced at Han, who proceeded to shrug.
“Don’t look at me. I didn’t invite anybody through that celestial tunnel.”
“Could it be someone from your High Command?”
“If that was the case, why ask for me? Krey’Fey and bel Iblis both hold a higher rank than me and besides,” he said with a hint of a smile returning, “I’m supposed to be retired from the Defense Force. Maybe it’s for Leia and they don‘t that she‘s on Coruscant.”
“Do you have any more data on the pilot?” Riker asked the bridge officer.
“Checking. He says his name is Kyp Durron.”
***
Location: U.S.S. Paradox
31st Century, Alpha Quadrant, Milky Way Galaxy
It had long been postulated, debated, and observed by historians that history had a tendency of repeating itself. Lessons, behaviors, and actions that humanity should have learned with ease were instead seemingly lost and repeated with the next generation and the next. As a member of DTI, Daniels knew this to be all too true and he was now living it as the emergency klaxons onboard the Paradox’s bridge began blaring once again.
“Report!”
“Incoming report from the Relativity. Temporal shockwave is approaching across the timespace.”
“Time and location?”
“Calculating now. Spatial coordinates 2501-J by 3614-E, Stardate 56844.5 Shall I display the results?”
“At once.”
The Krenim-designed temporal/spatial viewer flared to life once more, the exact time and location of the historical change that the Relativity and Paradox had monitored coming in clear. Axum took one look at the incoming data and was tempted to curse in a number of languages that, at least by the thirty-first century, were dead.
“The situation does indeed appear dire. His death will affect the stability of that region and the relationship between his people and the interstellar community for years, if not, centuries to come.”
“It could also likely contribute to the formation of the anomaly that we are faced with.”
“Based on the current data, That is not an unwarranted assumption.”
“And is the same energy signature present here from the last attack?”
“Scanning. Yes.”
Daniels was silent, the cogs of his highly talented mind formulating an appropriate response to the current phase of the crisis.
“Contact the DTI. Explain to them the urgency of the situation and request permission to conduct a temporal incursion.
“And if the request is denied?”
“Then prepare the incursion anyway.”
“Yes, sir.”
***
Location: Yammka’s Mount
Galactic Void, That Galaxy Far, Far Away
Though he had only been master and commander of the recently re-christened Yammka’s Mount for the better part of several klekkets, Supreme Commander Nas Choka more or less knew the living warship like the back of his scarred hand. The ship had served him well during his campaigns in Hutt space and in Sector 001. Now it was the command ship of the new Warmaster.
And on the subject of which...
Choka had engaged on his usal inspection of his vessel of war before proceeding to his meeting with Warmaster Czulkang Lah, whose quarters he was admitted to by the loyal warriors who guarded the chamber of command. Czulkang was sitting on the floor of his quarters, a villip facing him back.
He had not removed his enhanced vonduun crab armor. Without it, the old master of war would have been unable to move on his own. It was a testament to his age and his cunning in battle that he was still alive and how lucky the Yuuzhan Vong were to have him now leading the charge against the infidels of both this galaxy and the ‘Milky Way’.
Unfortunatly, a Shaper was in the process of learning the flip-side of having the gold dog of war in the land of the living.
“The answer is no, Shaper Chak‘ar.”
“But Warmaster, the project --”
“You will continue to research as you wish. But you will not receive the resources you have requested.”
“But --”
Before the subordinate could continue, Lah waved his hands, signaling the villip to terminate the communication as he turned to face Choka.
“Idiots," he muttered.
“Shaper Chak‘ar is assigned to Project Voxyn, is he not, Warmaster?”
Lah nodded.
When the Yuuzhan Vong had first encountered the Jedi almost two years earlier, it was believed that the race that had once been the guardians of peace and justice in the Old Republic gained their powers through technological enhancement or exhalations of the great Yun-Yuuzhan. Either way, they were seen as even greater abominations than the infidels.
Then Jacen Solo had made the situation worse for the Jedi by besting Czulkang Lah’s son in combat during the taking of Duro. The Warmaster had essentially called open season on the Jeddai and almost every step they Vong had taken since them had been directed, both in terms of resources consumption and battle engagements. The Attendants had not been happy with the re-direction of resources needed for their occupied worlds, but they had had no choice but to obey the Warmaster unless the Supreme Overlord had ordered otherwise.
Until now.
“Yes. The voxyn are needed, but they are not my priority and neither is the rescuing of that idiot that is my son. The Jeddai are not the primary threat anymore, this ‘Federation’ is. The fools are simply too dedicated to their arts and using the seven cortexes of knowledge handed down by the gods to realize the tactical threat we now face. I take it that is why you are here now?”
It was Choka’s turn to nod.
“Yes, Warmaster.”
“Then report to me, Supreme Commander. What news?”
Choka sighed.
“We have received no word from the Coruscant warriors.”
“Nothing through either the villip or the infidels‘ ‘Holo-Net’ networks?”
“No.”
Lah mulled on this for a moment, his claw-like hands stroking the bare, scarred flesh of his cragged chin.
“If they have failed, we will know soon enough. Though I dispatched some of the most skilled infiltrators and assassins we possesses, I acknowledge that there is a possibility that they may fail.”
“And if they do?”
“Then another strategy will present itself and I have several thoughts in mind. Until then, without facts, I can only speculate as to the difficulties they faced or are facing in their task.”
***
Location: Coruscant
That Galaxy Far, Away
“Do-ro’ik vong pratte!”
“Stop shooglin' around ya wee bastad," Scotty yelled in return. Though he had become more devoted to both the engines of the Enterprise and Enterprise-A as well as the S.C.E. than his own body, he still packed a punch as the Scotsman body-slammed the warrior facing him into the wall.
The fight for the hovercar had quickly dissolved into a close-quarters melee as teeth, sweat, blood, amphistaff venom, and curses in a multitude of languages from Nubian to Yuuzhan Vong filled the hovercar. The distinctive snap-hiss of a light saber’s energy blade quickly joined the cacophony of sounds as Leia raised her Jedi weapon and began striking against the amphistaffs, their tick molecular density able to prevent her from completely slicing through the lethal weapons.
This was not the weapon that she had used for years and built by herself; that had been destroyed by Tsavong Lah at Duro. It was instead the lightsaber that Luke had built for her in the years between the Battle of Endor and Grand Admiral Thrawn’s campaign. Despite her limited training -- since politics had always been the more dominant aspect of her life as opposed to the ways of the Jedi, something that she couldn‘t help but wonder if her father, General Kenobi, and Yoda had always intended-- she was a decent, if average swordsman.
They had taught Luke, who had then taught her and his students, that the old Jedi Order had developed seven different fighting styles around their legendary weapon. Luke’s style was and always had been known as Form V and utilized a combination of agility with brute strength. It had been necessary for him to become familiar with this since their father utilized the same style. Leia’s own style was classified more along the lines of Form I and Form III, a combination of basic swordplay and defense.
Leia thus now held her ground, lashing out with these dueling techniques that Obi-Wan and Yoda had passed onto to her brother and through him, to her. As she fought, she reached a balance point of sorts in the miasma of her thoughts that had been building since the Millenium Falcon had been greated in the Naboo system by one of the sleekest and most elegant starships she had ever set eyes upon.
If there had been any lingering doubt in her mind that they needed the United Federation of Planets as an ally, it was banished from her mind once and for all. Their strength and unity in this close-quarters, no holds barred battle put whatever passed for it in the New Republic to shame. Data and the EMH, for example, were back to back. The Doctor had with a slight series of taps adjusted his mobile emitter to increase his density. He now packed a punch roughly equal to Data’ own superhuman strength, resulting in a repeat of the on-punch K.O that Tsavong Lah had suffered on the Enterprise-E‘s bridge over a week earlier.
All the Vong warriors were now down for the count, either unconscious -- and desperately in need of a painkiller when they awoke, though their reverence for pain would have overridden this -- or dead. Only one remained, the pilot of the hovercar who would gladly have joined the fray had he not been otherwise engaged
“It’s over,” Picard said slowly as he caught his breath, yet still casting the aura of command that he had projected during his tenures on the Stargazer and the two most recent Starships Enterprise. The sole Vong warrior looked out through the transparisteel canopyof the hovercar and the rushing cityscape of Coruscant and then back at the battered, bleeding, but still kicking Starfleet team.
“Never,” he whispered, a deadly grin forming alongside a wild look in his eyes And before anyone could make a move, he raised his amphistaff above his head. The correct motions activated the creature’s engineered, almost instinctual response. It was very much like playing a musical instrument and the chord that the warrior now played was one of focused, yet widespread destruction.
The snake-like weapon, upon the warrior’s command, shot forth the deadly venom/acid combination that many had felt the sting of since the invasion had begun two years earlier. But the concoction was not directed at the Starfleet team or the Nubian queen. The acid instead landed upon the flight console, burning through the panels and scorching the circuitry beneath the covering.
This lasted only about three seconds before two successive shots from Vaughn’s type-1 “Cricket” phaser brought down the warrior. The third shot, unfortunately, barely fazed the still spewing amphistaff, the result of the dense genetic makeup of the bio-weapon, and it was combined weight of Data and the EMH that brought the beast down as they crushed its head. By this time, the hovercraft was already pitching and yawing like a sailing ship of the ancient Earth as the Coruscant cityscape and other craft narrowly avoided being hit by the diplomatic vessel.
“Report,” Picard yelled, more so out of habit rather than circumstance.
Leia pulled herself into the flight chair; after having been forced to sit in the Wookie-sized co-pilot seat of the Millennium Falcon -- it was one of the few remnants of Chewbacca that her husband still had, though he had promised to install a new chair fit for her in place , it was relaxing, though she didn’t notice. Though not a technical wiz on the level of her son Anakin, Leia was able to take one good look to have her worst fears confirmed.
“Oh Sithspawn,” she muttered.
“What is it?”
“The amphistaff’s acid damaged the controls and flight programs. I can’t control the hovercar!”
Picard looked at her, then looking at the oncoming form of a massive Coruscant skyscraper through the canopy, less than a kilometer distant and quickly approaching. The urge to curse in pure, unbridled French returned.
“Merde.”
***
Location: Bajor
Alpha Quadrant, Milky Way Galaxy
Though Luke and Mara were well versed in the Force, even they couldn’t see everything. This was one such example where the two Jedi were currently plastered on an display viewer in a compound similar to the duck blinds used by Starfleet for investigating pre-warp cultures undetected -- made all the more possible in instance due to the psionic buffers obtained from an….anonymous seller for a reasonable price.
There were currently three figures occupying the room, watching the slow, steady walk of the two Jedi Masters. One was dressed in the uniform of the Militia, one in the robes of a Vedek, and the third in the simple robes of a monk.
“This isn’t good,” the soldier stated aloud. “It’s happening too early.”
“Yes,” agreed the Vedek. “Their presence did not occur in accordance with our predictions of when they would arrive.”
“We can blame that on the damm Borg transwarp technology,” the soldier muttered.
“And Ebosh blabbering on about the Orbs isn’t helping matters either.”
“As far as I’m concerned, it screws up the entire timetable.”
“Not necessarily.”
Both men turned to the monk, known to them for his time in peering over ancient charts and texts as well as a penchant for hasperat souffle.
“Oh? Pray tell, old friend,” said the Vedek.
“Very well. The Jedi Master Orbs are one possible key to averting the coming cataclysm.”
“Was that why you wanted the Assembly pressured into granting their request?”
“Yes. By attempting to peer into the Orbs and the ‘wisdom’ of the Prophets, the fools are instead playing right into our hands.”
***
To be continued…
***
Author’s Notes
* The list of the Bajoran orbs is not officially canon. It instead comes from the DS9 re-lanuch novels “Mission Gamma: Cathedral” and “Unity”.
* As before, the Goloroth mission can be found in “Twilight’s Wrath” from the Tales of the Dominion War anthology.
* The Lightsaber fighting styles comes from Bob Brown's webpage.
Last edited by JME2 on 2005-03-29 02:01am, edited 3 times in total.
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SpecWar826
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DarkSilver
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enjoyable chapter overall JME
I approve of this
-hands JME a energon cube for his service-
I approve of this
-hands JME a energon cube for his service-
XBL: Darek Silver | Wii Friend: 5602 6414 0598 0225
LibriumArcana - Roleplaying, Fiction, Irreverence
Trekker (TOS, TNG/DS9-Era) | Warsie (semi-movie purist) | B5'er | TransFan
Cult of Vin Diesel: While it is well known that James Earl Jones performed the voice of Darth Vader, it is less appreciated that Vin Diesel performs the voice of James Earl Jones.
LibriumArcana - Roleplaying, Fiction, Irreverence
Trekker (TOS, TNG/DS9-Era) | Warsie (semi-movie purist) | B5'er | TransFan
Cult of Vin Diesel: While it is well known that James Earl Jones performed the voice of Darth Vader, it is less appreciated that Vin Diesel performs the voice of James Earl Jones.
Yay! A new chapter!
Have I mentioned before that I like the name of those not-so-noisy Crickets?
Have I mentioned before that I like the name of those not-so-noisy Crickets?
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.
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.
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Robert Walper
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Heh. As I've said, I love do little takes on classic lines. And the point is in the collective's court this time...Robert Walper wrote:I like the complete opposite mindset from Kirk's assertion of Starfleet's goals.Yes. Keep the gunners and fighter crews ready, just in case. We‘re not here to takes risks. Risk is not our business, after all.”
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Robert Walper
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And I wanted the credit for spotting it this time too!!!JME2 wrote: Heh. As I've said, I love do little takes on classic lines.
Didn't quite catch your meaning there at first. Thought you meant in reference to your story. *gloats with single point to other readers* Naw na nana na na! Ha!And the point is in the collective's court this round...
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Robert Walper
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- Location: Calgary, Alberta, Canada
True, but direct acquisition of said assests results in more efficiency and exact exploitation of those gains. Inefficient to constantly be correcting the errors and faults of inferior races.JME2 wrote:Well, you said it didn't matter since, due to assimilation, our assets by definition become yours...Robert Walper wrote: Didn't quite catch your meaning there at first. Thought you meant in reference to your story. *gloats with single point to other readers* Naw na nana na na! Ha!
Yeah, the Borg are real efficient. Let's send one cube to Earth so they can always defeat us.Robert Walper wrote:True, but direct acquisition of said assests results in more efficiency and exact exploitation of those gains. Inefficient to constantly be correcting the errors and faults of inferior races.JME2 wrote:Well, you said it didn't matter since, due to assimilation, our assets by definition become yours...Robert Walper wrote: Didn't quite catch your meaning there at first. Thought you meant in reference to your story. *gloats with single point to other readers* Naw na nana na na! Ha!
Can you tell I'm just mad you got to this chapter first and pointed out the classic line?
Good chapter, JME2.
"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
"The ability to destroy a planet is insignificant compared to the power of the Force."--Darth Vader
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Robert Walper
- Dishonest Resident Borg Fan-Whore
- Posts: 4206
- Joined: 2002-08-08 03:56am
- Location: Calgary, Alberta, Canada
