Author: Lt(jg) Reese Chance
Title: "A little legwork"
While waiting to depart the Arizona, Chance took the time to remind
everyone of the captain's policy. He made sure all of them had their
Chance: Okay, this should be a cake run but we all know Murphy's Law.
If it can go wrong, it will.
This raised a small chuckle from the gaggle.
Chance: Anyway, we have four hospitals and clinics to visit. After all
the deliveries are made, the Hohokam and the Hopi will return to the
Az. The rest of us will remain planeside to investigate the source of
the contamination. I'm sure some one has seen or heard something unusual
or out of place.
Dr. Kelly: +Dr. Kelly to Chance.+
Chance: +tap+ Chance here.
Dr. Kelly: +The medical supplies have been replicated and should be
delivered to the Main Shuttlebay momentarily.+
Chance: Okay, Doctor. We will be departing as soon as we're loaded up.
Dr. Kelly: +Be safe. Kelly out+
The supplies arrived and were loaded onto the shuttles. Everyone boarded
and began the preflight checks.
Chance: Flight Deck Control, this is the Flagstaff requesting departure
Ryan: +Flagstaff, you are cleared for departure at your convenience.+
Chance: Copy that.
The Flagstaff eased out of the shuttlebay followed shortly by the other
three shuttles assigned to this mission. They fell into a loose formation
as they assumed a vector for entry into Trenetor IV's atmosphere. Once
in the atmosphere, the Casa Grande and Hohokam broke formation and headed
for one of the outlying clinics. The Flagstaff and Hopi landed in front
of the hospital in Trenetor Village. A small detail of deputies met
them as they disembarked from the shuttles.
Chance: *walking up to the one who seemed in charge* I'm Lieutenant
Chance. We're here to insure the delivery of the supplies to the proper
Deputy Fife: *sniffing and pulling up his belt* That'll be no problem
with ol' Deputy Barney Fife on the job. I don't see a need for you Starfleet
bubbas to be here. I've got it all covered. I can guarantee it.
Chance: *keeping a straight face* I'm sure you can. We're only here
to offer assistance.
Several orderlies came out of the hospital with a dolly to unload the
supplies and carry them inside. About twenty minutes later, everything
manifested for the Trenetor Village facility was offloaded. The whole
thing went off without a hitch. The two shuttles ascended and headed
for the next drop off point.
==20 minutes after departing Trenetor Village==
The Flagstaff and Hopi settled down in the town square almost exactly
where Chance had landed on his first visit to the town. Sheriff Coltrane
Coltrane: I'm sorry but I'm the only one of my men not still sick.
Chance: That's okay. We should be able to handle any thing that pops
up. *looking around at the deserted square* Not many people out today,
Coltrane: Most are at home recovering. The more severe cases are at
the clinic. Luckily, we didn't lose anyone. Thanks to the help provided
by you guys.
Chance: Well, these supplies should insure more speedy recoveries.
As the supplies were unloaded and taken into the clinic's service door,
Coltrane and Chance walked in the front door. Chance looked around at
the facility as they walked through the halls. By Starfleet standards
it wasn't all that bad. It wasn't all that good either.
Coltrane: So, have your science weenies figured out what's making everyone
Chance: They are isolating the source now. However, we have no specific
Coltrane: *with a knowing look on his face* I get it. Tell us what we
"need" to know, not what we "want" to know.
Chance: Actually I'm trying to do a little legwork and see if there
as been any suspicious activity reported by any of the residents.
Coltrane: So, I scratch your back and you'll scratch mine.
Chance: You can say that.
Coltrane: The only thing that's been reported lately is a rash of unsolved
Chance: Really? Where have the reports come from?
Coltrane: Farmers mostly. The outlying tracts had the most activity.
Chance: What items were taken?
Coltrane: Small portable items mostly. You know, jewelry, trinkets,
knick-knacks and the sort.
Chance: I see. Can I get a report of these break-in's and their locations?
Coltrane: Sure, what's up?
Chance: I've got a hunch but I need to contact the Arizona to verify.
These burglaries and the contamination may be connected. But we'll have
to wait and see.
Coltrane: Right. Let's go get those reports for you.
==Fifteen minutes later==
Chance had returned from the Sheriff's office with the locations of
the burglaries. He entered the data into the console on the Flagstaff.
The readout showed a rough map of the inhabited areas of the planet.
A red blip represented where a break-in had been reported.
Chance: *opening a channel to the Arizona* Chance to Commander Stephens.
Stephens: +Stephens here+
Chance: Sir, I've gathered some data concerning the location of break-in's
on the planet. I thought you might want to cross- reference them with
the soil samples that were collected. I'm transmitting the data now.
LT(jg) Reese Chance
Deputy Chief of Sec/Tac
Author: CPO Kassandra Korelle
Title: "Waiting for your arrival"
==283 Light-Years Away (and closing)==
==Star System J-53 Theta==
*Once again we see the view from space of the small moon orbiting the
class-J gas giant planet below, it's craggy, dusty surface punctuated
only by a small grouping of buildings - the only sign of life on the
moon's inhospitable surface. Yet those few small structures represent
only the barest fraction of the Federation starbase hidden within the
*And again the tranquility of the scene is pierced by the appearance
of a Federation runabout, arcing in low and fast over the dusty surface
to come to an immediate halt above the circular entrace to the starbase
that lay hidden beneath layers of moondust. Once the platform has appeared,
the runabout lowered itself gracefully onto the platform, the pilot
quickly and efficiently shutting down the engines as the circular opening
whisked shut above the runabout. The co-pilot breathed a sigh of relief,
thankful to have arrived safely and headed aft to gather his gear, leaving
the pilot to finish the power down sequence without a word.*
==DEEP SPACE 31==
The co-pilot exited the runabout as quickly as humanly possible, practically
running over to the flight deck officer's desk. A young Klingon exchange
officer, he'd travelled here under duress, angered that his posting
was to this backward, frontier refit observation outpost rather than
a border patrol vessel or some other assignment with a chance of combat
and honor. But at the moment that anger had left him - now he thanked
Kahless to have finally arrived at his new home.
The flight deck officer, a young, clean-shaven human looked up from
his desk to the rapidly approaching Klingon. "What's your hurry, Mr...?"
"Kavot(NPC). Sergeant Kavot." was his reply, his dark eyes occassionally
looking back in horror at the runabout that lay behind him as he practically
forced a PADD with his orders into the flight deck officer's hands.
The flight deck officer leaned back in his chair, reviewing the orders
leisurly. "Well, I'm Lieutenant De Marco. Welcome to Deep Space 31,
"Just-", interrupted Kavot, "just tell me who I should report to." he
"Is there a problem, Sergeant?" asked the officer, curious as to what
could cause such a reaction in what he had heard was a fearsome, warrior
"My pilot." was Kavot's only response.
De Marco checked his arrival manifest. The runabout the sergeant had
arrived on had been en route for the last three weeks, with only the
pilot and himself aboard. "Yes, she's here to await transfer to another
ship." he said to Kavot. "The station commander's office is on level
3G, section 47. You should go there first." De Marco informed the sergeant.
"How bad could she be?" interrupted a young, fresh-faced Bolian engineering
ensign(NPC) beside the flight deck operator, who had been listening
in on their conversation.
The co-pilot looked at the questioner for a moment, making the ensign
worry that he'd overstepped his bounds. Then the Klingon shook his head,
looking the young engineer straight in the eyes. "Imagine your worst
nightmare - the thing that makes you wake up deep in the night screaming
until your lungs ache, your body trembling and covered in a cold sweat
and your mind and body refusing to resume it's slumber for fear of returning
to that place. And she" he said, indicating the pilot still within the
runabout. "is worse - much, much worse." he reply omniously.
Just then the doors to the runabout opened again. A small travel bag
and two cases were tossed out. Kavot's eyes were fixed on the open doorway
to the runabout, a mixture of fear and something else indescribable
on his face.
The co-pilot looked away quickly, his face blanching white. "I-I-I've
got to go." he said quickly, his hand shaking as he grabbed up the PADD
from the flight deck officer's hands and headed to the turbolift doors.
"And Kahless help whatever ship she's here to meet." he muttered back
over his shoulder as he left.
The young engineer caught on quickly. "I'd..ummm..better go get my work
done. Over there. Far, far over there." he said, fumbling for his toolkit
and barely making his escape even as the pilot exited the runabout,
gathered her gear and steadily approached the operator's desk.
Realizing he had no choice, the flight deck officer steeled his nerves,
resisting the urge to watch in what could only be described as morbid
fascination while the pilot approached. He listened intently, the whine
of the tractor beam that moved the now vacant runabout overpowered by
the stacatto beat of her approaching boot heels as they struck the duranium
hangar floor; continually growing louder to match the pounding of his
heart. His eyes plastered to the display that lay embedded in his desk,
he waited until the pilot chose to make her presence known before looking
Finally, a cold sweat breaking on his brow, he could resist no longer.
He glanced up into the face of the waiting pilot.
And to the left.
And to the right.
Where was she? He looked around hurriedly, hoping she hadn't taken his
apprehension for rudeness and already left, forgoing the routine reporting
in at his station that all first-time arrivals were expected to do;
yet at the same time praying to whatever deities he held dear that she
had, just to spare him.
And then he noticed, just beyond the edge of his desk, two small tufts
of long hair poking up above a head that was shorter than the desk itself.
The flight deck officer self-consciously cleared his throat. "C.. can
I help you, sir? Err...ma'am...ermmm...sir?" he asked, his flustered
nerves causing his voice to crack.
Two small hands reached up over the edge of the desk and braced themselves
as a small humanoid pulled herself up to lean over the flight officer's
display, her feet left dangling in the air. The officer couldn't help
but stare as what appeared to be a five year old human child in a crimson-collared
Starfleet uniform hoisted herself up on his desk, stared at the young,
cherub-like face, the large, playful eyes and the cheerful yet mischevous
grin that graced the pilot's face.
"Not a 'ma'am' -or- a 'sir', I work for a living, Lieutenant!" she said
with a smile, balancing momentarily on one arm to raise the other in
an archaic yet puckish salute. "Chief Petty Officer Kassandra Korelle
reporting in." she said, her grin widening to show twin rows of sparkling
white teeth. She reached her small hand over to shake De Marco's much
larger one. "But you can call me Kassy." she told him. "Pleased to meet
With that, she pushed herself back off the desk, landing gracefully
beside her gear. She quickly slid the pack onto her back and picked
up a case in each hand.
"I'm here to meet the Arizona!" she told the officer, who could only
stare after her, his mouth hanging open in mute shock as she walked
- or more precisely skipped - over to the turbolift doors.
New crewmember waiting at DS31!!! :-)
CPO Kassandra 'Kassy' Korelle
USS Arizona NCC-79101
Author: Lt Cdr Natasha Cruix
Title: "About to lose it"
== USS Arizona, Mess hall
Stanley Staines paused between serving drinks and surveyed his bar for
It was busy, as it was only a few minutes till the Arizona became no
more, and the place had been stormed by most of the beta and alpha shift
regulars, demanding synthaholic redemption. He had been pleased to pass
the drinks along the bar to them all, smiling and nodding pleasantly
to their toasts, and small rembrances.
The bustle in the bar had grown considerably, and now far more people
were sitting at tables and at the bar, drinking and talking, voices
occasionally rising enough for the bartender to catch some of the conversations.
People joked and complained, laughed and cried, same as every day.
Life went on.
Stanley looked around at the happy faces, inwardly wondering what was
really to become of them all.
== Nat's Quarters.
The door slid shut behind Nat with an uncomfortable hiss as she entered
her quarters for the very last time. As she stepped over the threshold,
she stopped, and took a quick look about. A bed, a bathroom, a replicator,
all very basic, nothing spectacular, but it was 'home' and had been
for more than a year.
She sighed, once again starting to move. She was tired, and what she
really wanted now was a good soak in a deep tub of hot fragrant water,
but instead, she stepped towards her replicator. "Cranberry juice."
She growled, and waited for the requested beverage to appear.
Nat's eyes furrowed, realising that the machines had probably been taken
offline in preparation for the Arizona's arrival at the station, and
she sighed heavily once again. She was not normally the most patient
of people, and now she was quickly losing her temper. She was really
about to lose it, as a matter of fact.
Nat growled, and stepped cautiously away from the
offending piece of machinery to sit down on the couch, head in her hands.
"What a day." She mumbled to herself.
Lt Cmndr Natasha 'Nat' Cruix
Chief Security / Tactical Officer
Author: Ens. Reese Chance
Title: "Feeling guilty"
==Ship's Main Armory==
Mr. Chance stood in the middle of the armory with a PADD in hand, supervising
the inventory of weapons. The security personnel buzzed about scanning
phasers, explosives, and armor. Mr. Chance doubted the delegates would
look favorably upon any discrepencies in the weapons inventory. Mr.
Chance hardly notices as SCPO Dalton(npc) walks up to him.
Dalton(npc): Sir? If you want, I can finish up here. We're almost done
Chance: That's okay, Senior. I need to keep busy to keep my mind off
things. *pauses, looking around at the activity*
Dalton: Very well, sir. If you need me, I'll...
Chance: *cutting Dalton off* Will you miss her, Senior?
Dalton: Miss the Az, sir? I guess I'll miss the ol' girl. She's a helluva
fighter. Why ya ask?
Chance: I don't feel anything. I mean, I haven't been on here but so
long. I didn't even get the chance to get to know her. I guess I feel
kind of guilty that I'm not getting bent out of shape about all this.
Dalton: Permission to speak freely, sir?
Dalton: Son, be happy you don't have to lose a good friend like the
Az. Most of us have been with her for a long time, sacrificed a lot
to stay with her. You haven't gotten used to her like we have. When
you're used to steak, anything else won't stand up to it. Besides, we're
like a family on here. No one's happy to see a happy home broken up.
Chance: But I don't feel like much of a part of the family yet.
Dalton: Trust me, you're like the little brother I never wanted. *smiling*
We're all kindred spirits.
Chance: I guess, you're right.
Dalton: *slapping Chance on the back* Of course, I'm right. I'm a Senior
Chief. Rule #1: The Senior Chief is always right. Rule #2: If the Senior
Chief is wrong, refer to Rule #1. *laughing aloud*
Chance: *laughing* I'll have to remember that.
Dalton: You do that. Now, if you don't mind, I have to say goodbye to
my weapons. *walks away*
Chance watches the senior chief walk away. He makes a mental note to
look him up whenever they get shore leave. Chance walks out of the Armory
leaving Dalton to his work. He felt better about not knowing what was
going to happen next. He decided he needed a break and headed for the
mess hall. He was suddenly hungry, realizing he hadn't eaten all day.
He hoped the replicators were still online. He was in the mood for a
gooey slice of pepperoni pizza.
Ensign Reese Chance