How about another fanfic (Manifest Destiny)

[Hendrake]

As enthralling as ever. that's an awsome piece of work!

[Vympel]

Thoughts occur to me though-

1: Luke's age- being 80 years old, this means almost 60 years have passed since the events of the Original Trilogy. Highly unlikely that anything we know of in the SW universe (Star Destroyers etc) would be around- and if they were- they wouldn't be frontline warships. Many unknowns with fighters, ships, etc. with this expanse of time.

2: Stormtroopers- unthinkable that the New Republic would adopt the armor of the forces of the Empire for its troops. A cool idea would be that instead of the grimacing stormtroopers- you could say that they decided to return to the clonetrooper armor we see in AOTC- much more neutral. Just a suggestion. It too, has 'PC' problems though.

Just suggestions- its your vision

[Mr Bean]

Yes as always you killed Luke Woohoo!

Now I command you, WEASLY NEXT!

[Singular Quartet]

Now I command you, WEASLY NEXT!

YES!! Star Trek must lose its whiny 20 something, too! (Granted Luke wasn't 20 at this point, but whatever....)

[Eleas]

<snip>

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

..

MORE!

[Mark S]

Thanks for the response guys! Now that I have you hooked, I'm going to need to see some cash before you get anymore. Shall we say... One Million Dollars.

Just kidding, just kidding! Anyway, didn't the Stand By Me kid become a god or something when he was booted from the show? It's going to take some thinking to kill him.

As for why their still using Star Destroyers and Stormtrooper-esk armour 60 odd years later... If it ain't broke, don't fix it. If they're going to keep a centralized military, and the tech doesn't change, why not use what's already available to you. That way the Senate doesn't take a century debating on who's going to pony up for the bill.

[Mr Bean]

Mark The check is in the mail

[Soontir C'boath]

This Story is like a black hole. It sucks everyone's attention in it. It's GREAT!!!

Cyaround,
Jason

[Mark S]

Aboard a sleek, black, if slightly mangled, star ship hurtling through the blue and white vortex of hyperspace, a sleek, athletic, if slightly aged, woman sat in meditation. This hadn't been the easiest of voyages but at long last she was finally going home. Home. What had she said about that not so long ago? It didn't matter. It would just be nice to have a place to rest off of this ship.


She needed rest. Had hardly had any since the Borg attack. The attack that had cost her more dearly than she would ever have imagined. There had just been too many of them. And now Mai was gone. Part of the Collective, they all said. Not even Jedi are invincible.

It was true though. Mai-Men WAS gone. Jenna's instincts told her it was true. The Jedi contemplated these feelings carefully. She would take the proper time to say good bye to her apprentice once this mission was over and done with. Then, whatever the Senate thought of the new galaxy, the Jedi would have to gather for a serious discussion about bringing it a proper level of peace and justice.

What was she doing? "Focus on the moment," she admonished herself out loud. Then, slipping back into her Jedi's calm, she felt it. A massive disturbance buffeted her through the Force. Strangely, it seemed to be coming from two places at once. One strong and sharp, straight ahead of her and the other weak, slowly and steadily growing, behind her. It was confusing. Someone was dead, someone important. But something else was very much alive, like a newborn of monstrous proportions.

Things had definitely been happening in her absence. The Jedi Knight rose lithely to her feet and strode to the cockpit to see if she couldn't coax a few more wisps of power out of her already gasping vessel.


Picard looked down at the small image of the ship on his ready-room desk. What the hell had happened. In one blinding flash of light this whole event had turned into another potential Dominion War. No word had come through the wormhole since Skywalker's ship had bolted, in offer or reply. He could only hope that they were trying to get to the bottom of things over there. Pooda had seemed like a rational man, why was the Republic ignoring their offers of a joint investigation?

"Sir," the voice of Commander Data broke the captain's quiet contemplation. "I think you should come to the bridge."

Picard rose from his chair with a tug at his shirt and strode through the door onto the bridge. Greeting him on the main viewer was the leering face of a Ferengi officer. Data rose from the captain's chair as he approached.

"This Ferengi vessel has broken away from the rest of the assembly and is heading for the wormhole," the android informed. "This is Damon Hosst."

"Picard," the Ferengi's shrill voice pierced the air like a whistle. "It has become clear to the Ferengi Alliance that the Federation has lost control of this situation. We are going through to deal with the Republic ourselves before any further jeopardy is brought to potential trading partnerships."

"Absolutely not, Hosst. I can not allow that." Picard signaled the ensign at tactical to activate the tractor beam. "This is an extremely delicate problem we're facing. You can't be allowed to go through and aggravate it any more."

"Oh!" Hosst snorted. "So only the great and powerful Federation Hoo-Mon's could possibly get to the bottom of this! Is that it Picard? You have had your chance and from where I stand you've failed. I am going on a diplomatic mission of peace. You have no right to hold me back. Now release my ship!"

"Listen to me Hosst..." Picard's retort was cut off by the appearance of two other faces on his screen. The ambassadors of the Romulans and the Klingons.

"The Ferengi is right, Picard," the Romulan statesman chided. "This is as much our problem as it is the Federation's. The Ferengi's approach may work better then yours. Let them go before sides must be taken."

"I agree," the round Klingon on screen spoke. "As your allies, the Klingon Empire advises you to let the Ferengi go. We will not help you if this escalates."

Picard was out numbered. Even if Starfleet had by far the most ships in the area - and that wasn't necessarily a certainty - and it WAS Federation territory, it would do no one good to start firing shots over this. He signaled the other vessel's release and cut communications without a word.

"Lord help us." He murmured to no one in particular.


"Sir, we're getting activity from the wormhole," the nameless Com/Scan officer called up to Pooda and his first. In moments the space/time nexus opened and belched out what appeared to be one small ship. The Republic Dawn was far too far away to see the ship with the naked eye but the scene was all too clear in the hologram floating over the ship's bridge.

"We're picking up eleven ships, Sir. Three distinct design styles. The ten around this one are using a broad spectrum cloak but all eleven are creating massive spacial warpage from their main drives." Ten outlines appeared, five in green, five in red. "The visible one is hailing, Sir."

"What the hell are they trying to do?" rasped Wullo.

"It looks like they think they can pull a fast one on us, Sir." The Com/Scan officer's comment was accompanied by the holographic image of the outlined ships breaking formation. Two stayed with the decoy, one red, one green. Two made to return to the wormhole, one red, one green. The rest shot off in random directions at super-light speed.

"Indeed, Lieutenant." Pooda starred at the image before him. "This would be the proverbial straw that broke the bantha's back. Contact the Commander of Delta wing and tell him to round up all those ships. Tell him to remember what I said about the ion cannons. Then get a hold of the Maxim, the Saberflash and the Icewind. It looks like those two are going to get back through the wormhole but I don't want that decoy and his escort going anywhere."

"Aye, Captain," the lieutenant complied. A second later he was calling back up. "Sir, there's a transmission from Captain Mulby of the Leviathan. He says it's urgent."

As the image of Captain Mubly shimmered to life on the bridge of the Republic Dawn, three Star Destroyers moved into position around the Ferengi vessel and it's unknown escort. Six more broke from the fleet to split up and dart off in pursuit of the other interlopers.


The breathless moments seemed to stretch into hours as everyone waited for the Ferengi vessel to return with news. Any news at all. There was nothing. Nothing after the wormhole had opened to let nothing through anyway. Some of those waiting knew exactly what that meant, some had a pretty good idea. Whatever it had signaled, the Ferengi still weren't back.

"Captain Picard, sensors are picking up a lone ship."

Picard jolted out of his stupor and sat up in his chair. "From the wormhole? Is it Damon Hosst?"

"No Captain," the lieutenant corrected, sounding a little confused. "It's a small ship. Unidentified class. It just appeared behind us and is coming in hard with shields up."

"On screen. What do you mean, 'just appeared'?"

"Just that, Sir. One moment there was nothing and now there's a ship. It should reach our position in about a minute."

Against the backdrop of space, the strange black vessel was almost invisible on the Enterprise's main viewer. As the seconds ticked by and the computer tracked the craft's location, word was batted about the gathered ships.


Jenna stared at the waiting blockade as it grew from a tiny row of specks in her front screen. They had gathered reinforcements since she had last been here. They were going to try to stop her. She steadied herself for the first assault.


"Sir, they're not responding to hails. And every time I think I have a lock with the tractor beam and am about to fire, they evade somehow. The other ships are having the same luck."

Riker looked back at the tactical officer. "Are you telling me that fifty ships with some of the most advanced computers in the quadrant can't lock on to ONE?!"

"I can't explain it either, Sir. They just seem to know where to go to break... Wait. The Dakota III just caught them!"

"That's better." Picard put his hand to his chin thoughtfully. "Maybe they'll have some answers to all of this."


Well, it was bound to happen, Jenna thought to herself as the unseen hand of energy dragged her battered ship into the midst of the blockade. It was just as well. This got her closer to her goal with more ease than anything else could have.

Steady

Steady


The crew of the Enterprise watched as the alien ship was pulled passively towards the Dakota III. Attempts to board via transporter had already been tried and failed. Dakota was now waiting until they had their catch close enough for a party to actually fly over and break in.

It was almost at this time that the small craft came back to life. The gathered ships were shocked out of victory as their prey powered weapons and blazed up at its captor. The Dakota's tractor beam ceased to exist and the alien vessel darted again towards the waiting freedom of the wormhole.

Picard smirked. The others had been taken totally off guard. They had moved in too soon and were now in so much of a bunched jumble that with some exquisite piloting the alien ship was again free.

"She can bite after all," he commented. "Bring us in front of the wormhole and keep trying the tractor. If they got that ship once we can get her again."


The field of strange and alien starships twisted and wheeled in Jenna's view as she maneuvered through a maze of nacelles, bodies and saucers. Soon she was in the clear again making straight for the wormhole. There were still dozens of ships behind her and closing fast, all still trying to re-establish a lock and some that were moving in to cut her off. None of this entered her mind. She was focused on her goal. Her instincts took care of the rest.

Then those instincts screamed a warning. Five small Klingon Birds of Prey materialized in front of her, seconds after she started her evasive maneuvers.


"Evasive action!" Picard roared to the helmsman as the Klingon ships appeared in his path. "Damn!"

The great bulk of the Enterprise pulled hard to stern, mirrored by six others that had had the same idea, while the sandwiched Klingon ships darted for safety as best they could. In the confusion, everyone's quarry was all but forgotten.

Forgotten by all but two dogged Birds of Prey. The quick thinking crews of these ships had managed to keep tightly to the Jedi's trail for her entire flight through the line. They now tried in vain to disable her engines before she could reach safety. When she made it through, they didn't follow. They had already been given word about what was on the other side.


If news of the wormhole had traveled through the Republic fast, the news of Luke Skywalker's death and the surrounding events moved like the Force itself. Everyone from the Hutts to the Calamari were outraged. The decision to go to war turned out to be the fastest thing ratified by the Senate since Palpatine's rise to power. It was true. Everyone wanted blood. The only ones to actually disapprove were the Jedi themselves. They refused to have any part of the war, if it was to commence, and urged the Senate to think about their actions more calmly.

No one was listening to calm words in those days that followed. Too many fists were pumping in the air. Too many chants and war cries drowned out reason. Too many stories were leaking about the other side. Too many people feared invasion. If they could kill a Jedi master they had to be stopped!


In the muting confines of a wood finished office, two men stood across from each other. One in a opulent yet comfortable robe, the other wearing simple black with a hooded cloak, his hands folded in front of him. A luxuriously appointed desk separated the two, giving their stares a good meter to travel.

"... War is not what Master Skywalker would have wanted in any circumstance."

"It's too late far that. Don't you understand? Skywalker wasn't just your master, he wasn't just a Jedi. He was an icon. He was a symbol.

"The people have already spoken. If the Jedi won't help us... tell them to stay out of the way."

"So be it, Supreme Chancellor. May the Force be with you. All of you."


"Due to the events leading up to and following the destruction of the Plato, the Federation and it's allies have decided to declare a state of full alert concerning the Galactic Republic. Be advised that we are sending more ships to your position at the wormhole as quickly as we can."

Picard stared blankly for a second at the screen on his desktop. Some of the other faces in that screen were as stunned as he was. "But Mr. President, we haven't even determined the cause of the explosion."

"The Plato is a debris field, Captain. There's nothing left to study. We've had experts going over the sensor logs of every ship that was witness and they've still come up empty. We have no choice but to use caution."

"If you're that worried, why don't we simply collapse the wormhole right now?" It was a Vulcan Picard had never seen before. Most likely a counsel member. "Why potentially risk the lives of Federation citizens?"

"That is not an option," the president answered with an awkward, sidelong glance. "We have... people on the other side." There was a pause. "And I understand that the Klingon Empire now does as well."

"What!!" Too many voices mixed together in this cry. All but Picards.

"If there is any chance that they may return," the president continued. "We can't abandon it. The Empire is very steadfast on this point. If we collapse the wormhole we risk going to war with them... Not to mention the Ferengi."

"You don't want to do this." Picard shook his head, almost pleading. "I've seen what's on the other side of that wormhole..."

"So have I, Captain. That's half the reason. But there is hope. Not all of our people are still over there."


The towering holographic projection of General Bastin's face loomed over the rows upon rows of Republic Troopers that seemed to stretch into infinity. He looked young and vigorous yet carried the scares of battles fought and won that earned respect. His face was livid as his address rolled forth. "...And even now, our agents have returned with reconnaissance from the other side. They are a disordered, fractured society, these people who killed Skywalker. Not like us. Not united as one galaxy. But take heed! They are savage! And NOT to be taken lightly!

"YOU are all that stands in the way of the Republic being over run with these savages! Only you can preserve our way of life! Only you can preserve us from collapse! The Jedi won't help. They've said they won't lift a finger in this war. That's because they can't help! They are afraid of the other side!

"Yes. Even the mighty Jedi do not want to face a people with the power to kill their Master. But someone must. Someone must bring order and justice to this new galaxy. Someone must fight for what is right. Someone must avenge the death of the greatest man of our time. Someone must teach these Federation barves the lesson that they deserve!"

There was a pause. "Will you?

"That is a lot for one being to ask another. I know. But I also know who I'm talking to. You are the greatest fighting force of this galaxy or any other! Nothing can stand in your way! You have the technology! You have the training! So I ask you, as one citizen of this beautiful republic to another, will you fight? Will you fight for ORDER? Will you fight for JUSTICE? Will you fight for the memory of my hero?"

"Sir, yes sir!" As one, the bellow charged from the lips of the assembled soldiers. So crisp, the ground seemed to shake with the reverberation. So clear, the silence that followed threatened to leak into the soul.

Somewhere in the back a voice broke discipline. "Order!"

"Order!" Fists raised as the ranks shouted as one.

A different voice rose up. "Justice!"

"Justice!" Again, uncountable fists hit the sky.

The troopers needed no more encouragement. As one, the chant called from their lips, charging the air with their energy. "Skywalker! Skywalker! Skywalker!..."


The holo-projector deactivated with a beep and General Bastin gave a sigh too old for his face. His reached for his drink and turned to the others in the room.

"Jed," someone offered. "When my obituary comes up, I want YOU to write it."


The ranks of starships arrayed in front of the wormhole had swelled, nearly tripled, since the captains had heard from the president. No familiar ships had come back yet, Federation, Klingon, Romulan, Ferengi or otherwise. There had only been a lot of watching and waiting. There was an anticipation in the air, everyone could sense it. Something was going to happen. It was just a matter of what time.

That time was now.


"Sir, we're picking up massive amounts of tachyon activity coming from the wormhole. It looks like something is coming through. Something big."

Captain Selkor of the Klingon Attack Cruiser Lo'Cha nodded in approval. "Raise shields and go to yellow alert." Finally, some action.

On the ships main viewer the wormhole sparked for a split second and in the next poured forth legion upon legion of tiny craft. Long and slender in shape, these ships bulged from a narrow aft section only to split into four equally spaced, equally long, barbs. Like the grasping claws of a faceless monster, they came.

So it began.

"Fighters?" the captain looked incredulously to his tactical officer for confirmation.

"I'm reading no life signs, Captain. They may be some form of torpedo but I'm reading weapons systems powering up. There are ten thousand in all, Sir." There was a hint of respect in the man's voice. Any enemy that could muster ten thousand of anything for a first attack was a worthy adversary.

If the captain was equally impressed he didn't let on. "Go to red alert. Those aren't torpedo's, Lieutenant. Commence fire before they break formation."

Soon all disruptor banks on the Lo'Cha were active, stabbing into the cloud of oncoming attackers. Seconds later, every other ship gathered was following suit. Selkor began to have trouble seeing his enemy behind the energy fire and explosive flashes.

As the first few hundred droid fighters exploded atom by atom, the entire rank and file broke into a confusing swarm of small groups and individuals. All wheeled and dodged in an attempt to evade destruction while continuing to steadily advance. As a result, the initial mass that had been so compact and orderly now expanded wider and wider in a seething net, making less of a target for any one computer to track.

"Continue firing," Selkor ordered calmly. "All batteries. Get as many as you can while they're at a distance. It won't be this easy once they're in close. Estimate time they'll be in range to return fire."

"I don't know, Captain. There are approximately eight thousand remaining and closing steadily. I estimate thirty seconds before they're at point blank range. I don't know anything about their targeting system though, they could be in range to fire now and just aren't."

The distruptors blazed, the view screen filled with twinkling explosions and everyone on the bridge waited. Then it happened.

"They"re returning fire, Captain. Ten seconds until point blank range, five thousand remaining."

The darkness of space, already lit by hundreds of phasor and disruptor beams, became even brighter as close to five thousand automated fighters bared their little fangs with abandon. Tiny, red, quad pulses erupted towards the defending line like a river of lava, obscuring sensors and striking panic in the hearts of the less battle hardened. There was nothing any ship could do but brace for impact. The retaliation was too vast.

When the wave of energy crashed over the defenders it rocked each ship and sent crackling flashes across their shields. Then the next volley hit, then the next. It soon became more like riding through an ion storm then being in battle.

"Shields only down ten percent and holding," the Lo'Cha's first officer laughed. The captain ran a quick calculation in his head and did not share the jubilation of his crew.

"Pull us away from the pack," he ordered. "And advise the other ships to space further apart as well."

"Aye, Sir. Shields now down to seventy five percent and holding."

The great Klingon Attack Cruiser slowly drifted away from the rest of the line. In response, first the Klingon ships, then most others, began to mimic the action. Those that didn't soon learned the folly of their ways as the swarm of enemy fighters filled the gaps in between. There were only about three thousand of them left but they were a cloud of bees within a herd of buffalo.

"The computer is having trouble getting a lock on them at this close range," the tactical officer advised. "They're too maneuverable!"

"Keep firing," Selkor replied. "Watch your targets though, and watch the other ships.

"See what I mean. Look!"

The burly Klingon jabbed his finger at the viewer and all eyes were quick to follow. What they saw brought a mix of sobriety and disbelief. There before them was the image of two craft, one Federation and one Ferengi. Around the two darted a dozen or so tiny specks gauging now and then with their red pulses. The crew of the Lo'Cha watched as Ferengi and Federation beams stabbed out into space and doggedly followed their targets. One fighter vanished in fire and the beam ceased, the other pulled hard to the side and the beam followed, bringing it right across the port bow of the other starship. The shields of the Ferengi vessel glowed and its side darked before the raking blast stopped.

"Locking in targeting safeties now, Captain."

As the two ships finally pulled away from one another they were helpless to retaliate. All of their tiny attackers had congregated between them. Moments later a bright flare burst from the side of the Federation craft and it was reduced to an expanding cloud of debris and life-pods seconds later.

"That last volley carried torpedoes of some kind, Sir."

"Yes, they were saving them for close range so we couldn't shoot them down."

The firing rate of the cruiser was now down to nearly zero. It was just too hard to get a positive lock on the minuscule bastards. To their right a Bird of Prey was torn to pieces by plasma fire, taking out three fighters in its death throws. Their shields were now down to sixty five percent and would drop even further judging from the enemy circling them coldly. Sharks in a vast, black ocean.

The captain swore. "How many left, Lieutenant?"

"Over a thousand. One hundred forty of our ships remain." There was a pause, "Make that one thirty nine. We're getting a distress call from the Vorae."

Outside, a stray Federation runabout skirted over the Lo'Cha's hull trying to shake three tenacious pursuers. The stubborn pilot was pulling out every trick in the book but nothing she did could stop the pounding it was taking. The small craft's shields ultimately failed as it ducked around the cruisers starboard nacelle for cover, spinning tightly in an effort to evade its enemies.

"It's the U.S.S. Merryway, Captain," the Klingon officer advised. "Its shields are down and it's asking to dock."

"We'd have to lower our shields." The tone of the first officer's voice spoke more then his statement.

"Lower the shields and bring the Merryway in," the captain ordered coolly. "The hull will be able to take any damage from these drones, but get it back up as quickly as you can. And watch for torpedoes!"

"Understood, Captain."

"But Sir," the Commander shouted. "They should stay out on the field and fight to their glorious end! How can you allow a moment of weakness to disgrace them like this."

"They are not Klingons, Commander," Selkor replied. "These are Federation warriors. Would you stand by and watch a child be torn to pieces by a pack of targs?"

The ship rocked all the stronger as its defenseless skin was pommeled by blaster fire. Four decks were breached before the runabout was safely inside and the shields were up again. The captain did not complain or curse though, he simple continued his battle like the soldier he was. Beside them, a Romulan cruiser tried a desperate attempt to escape into cloak before it was lashed by dozens of torpedoes. The Lo'Cha had its defenses raised just in time.

"Shields down to forty five percent, Captain. Shall I access auxiliary power?"

"No. Not until my order."

Then the other shoe dropped.

Again, the defenders read a massive spike from the wormhole. Again it opened wide its great, cosmic mouth. This time, however, did not reveal a storm cloud of tiny fighters. This time, the wormhole released a vision like nothing anyone, save Picard and Data, had seen. A monolithic, black wedge the size of a city now hung in space over the defenders, flanked by dozens of the infamous grey ships. Ships that now did not look quite so monstrous. Like the accusing finger of an angry god, the alien giant bore down on them.

Raw terror danced in the hearts of the defending line at the sight of a war machine so awe-inspiring. Fully every Romulan vessel faded into the darkness of space within seconds and was gone. The Ferengi too, turned and fled. This was not their territory. They had to warn the Alliance. But this WAS the Federation's territory and the Klingons were their allies. They could not run. Not without a fight. No matter how futile. Even the words of Picard and the Klingons that had been across had not prepared them for this.

"Reroute all power to the shields and disruptors and ready the torpedo bays!" Captain Selkor was finally getting excited. "Commander Kall, have you ever served aboard a B'Rel before?"

"Of course, Captain." The first officer grinned. "Helm, set heading three two six!"


In unison, the remaining ships of the defending line charged forward at maximum impulse. The tables had turned. They were now the insects, spinning and weaving amongst giants. But they were not small enough.

Moments after the charge began, the ships of the Milkyway were drenched in turbolaser fire. Curtains of green energy thundered down on them like a hurricane, washing away many in brilliant flashes of light. For the rest, survival was no easy feat either. Pilots of all species were put to the test, trying to keep their ships out of harms way yet within optimal firing position.

"Boost power to the visual sensors," Selkor bellowed to his warriors as the main viewer turned to static. The Lo'Cha spasmed under another wave of energy.

The crackling snow on the screen cleared slightly to the reveal the jumping image of two Star Destroyers, rotating in space as the Klingon cruiser dodged their energy blasts.

"This is the best we can do, Captain," Commander Kall said from the tactical station, pushing the body of its previous occupant to the floor. "The jamming field coming off of that central ship is too powerful."

Ahead, a Federation Galaxy class strafed the destroyer on the right, raking its phasor banks across the bigger ship's hull as it pounded with quantum torpedoes.

"All torpedo bays," the Klingon captain shouted. "Fire on that ship while it's reeling! Cover the Humans with the disruptor banks. Target the second vessel."

The Starfleet craft's underbelly was peppered by turbolasers from both enemies as it tried to escape from its own bravery. When twelve Klingon torpedoes were spotted speeding in to the rescue, they thought they were saved. When those same torpedoes missed their target completely and turned around to reacquire a lock, their hopes were shattered.

"Captain, the targeting computer can't get a lock on the enemy vessel. I'm switching to manual."

"It looks like the sensors on the torpedoes are having trouble as well," the captain replied. "Reprogram them for straight trajectory and manually target them as well."

Twelve more specks of light rushed toward the Star Destroyer on the right as its counterpart's shields flashed with energy impacts from both the Klingons and the Federation. Trying to minimize the potential impact of the Klingon torpedoes, the Destroyer opened fire on the nearing dots. One quantum explosion detonated after the next as the projectiles were picked off. Not all however. Two made it through the barrage to collide against the forward shields with brilliant reaction.

"Again! Torpedoes fire!"

By this time the Lo'Cha was passing over the enemy ship as it fired, crossing paths with its Federation brother who was doing the same. Explosions began rippling across the embattled Star Destroyer bringing a cheer to the throats of two different crews. Cheers that were cut decidedly short. Dead short.

The monstrous vessel was still there. There had been no visible effect. The torpedoes had impacted harmlessly on the shields.

The second Destroyer, seeing its companion's situation and knowing that a small section of its deflectors had been breached in the last barrage, pulled back to bring itself in line for a perfect shot at the two harbingers of that barrage. Four heavy turbolaser bolts lit up the void for the briefest of moments. The Starfleet vessel exploded instantly.

"Captain Selkor, our shields are gone!" Fire suppression systems blinked force fields here and there on the bridge as the remaining crew fought to regain control before the next assault.

"Hit them with every thing we've got, Commander. Continuous fire. Now, before they fire again!"

[Mr Bean]

Make that two checks in the mail

Nice tie in, brillant writing(Hmm should we start a Starvo VS Mark S poll? No best not to)

[Stravo]

Make that two checks in the mail

Nice tie in, brillant writing(Hmm should we start a Starvo VS Mark S poll? No best not to)

Bean...would you make a Shakespeare vs. Melville thread, a Stephen King vs. Edgar Allen Poe, a Zahn vs. George RR Martin, a George Lucas vs. Spielberg? You get the idea. Great artists should not be competing against each other, but against themselves.

BTW Mark S...VERY nice, I just don't like to intrude on other authors while they're working.

Wondering if anyone will have smartass comments about Stravo even THINKING he's as good as anyone mentioned in his reply.

[Mr Bean]

Well I ment in a fight to the death you know kinda toss a pair of Light-Sabers between the two of you with your storys as shields and see what happens

[Stravo]

Well I ment in a fight to the death you know kinda toss a pair of Light-Sabers between the two of you with your storys as shields and see what happens

As long as that Star Trek music is playing in the background, the fighting music from Amok Time when Spock and Kirk are fighting to the death over that HOT piece of ass T'Pring. Mmmmmm. T'Pring.

[Mr Bean]

I'll get the recording equipment ready

[Mark S]

Make that two checks in the mail

Nice tie in, brillant writing(Hmm should we start a Starvo VS Mark S poll? No best not to)

Bean...would you make a Shakespeare vs. Melville thread, a Stephen King vs. Edgar Allen Poe, a Zahn vs. George RR Martin, a George Lucas vs. Spielberg? You get the idea. Great artists should not be competing against each other, but against themselves.

BTW Mark S...VERY nice, I just don't like to intrude on other authors while they're working.

Wondering if anyone will have smartass comments about Stravo even THINKING he's as good as anyone mentioned in his reply.

Wow! Didn't see this coming. Thanks man! I haven't wanted to pipe up on your threat for the same reasons. I consider this high praise. The best since "Holy. Fucking. Shit." That was a good one. I thought people would be talking about "Battle of the Inspirational Speaches" though mine was really only the tail end of one.

Anyway, I guess you get to be Kirk since I have like half of your posts and views.

See you in the parking lot.

[Asdeed]

Alrighty, where's the enlistment papers??? I'll sign!


LONG LIVE THE REPUBLIC!!!! (did I actually just say that?? )

[Singular Quartet]

Alrighty, where's the enlistment papers??? I'll sign!


LONG LIVE THE REPUBLIC!!!! (did I actually just say that?? )

YEs, and because I quoted it, you can't change it.

[Cpt_Frank]

Hmm, could it be General Bastin is gonna be the next Emperor?

[Eleas]

Wow! Didn't see this coming. Thanks man! I haven't wanted to pipe up on your threat for the same reasons. I consider this high praise. The best since "Holy. Fucking. Shit."

Glad you liked it. That leaves the possibility open for us to establish a symbiotic relationship, in which I provide the praise and you provide the Fanfics. Of course, I'm going to print them out and sell them for a lot of cash, but hey...

[Ender]

Bump.

That wasn't the end, was it?

[Singular Quartet]

Bump.

That wasn't the end, was it?

Better not have been...

[Captain Kruger]

This is great stuff Mark! Long live the Republic!!!

[Mark S]

Bump.

That wasn't the end, was it?

Hell no! Give me break guys! It takes time to pull this stuff out of my butt. Besides, I just had my first anniversery. I was busy with other things to say the least.

[Stravo]

Bump.

That wasn't the end, was it?

Hell no! Give me break guys! It takes time to pull this stuff out of my butt. Besides, I just had my first anniversery. I was busy with other things to say the least.

Mark what you don't understand what I have come to the slow realization is that we are now the crack dealers of SD Net. We have created a junkie base that we must feed on a regular basis or they go into withdrawals that makes them cranky and prone to flame.

We are the Tony Montanas of SD Net and if people give you crap about taking too long, just tell 'em "Say Hello to my little freind!"

One of MY ALL TIME FAV MOVIES...

[Eleas]

Bump.

That wasn't the end, was it?

Hell no! Give me break guys! It takes time to pull this stuff out of my butt. Besides, I just had my first anniversery. I was busy with other things to say the least.

Hey, congratulations!