Subject: [FANFIC] Fist of the Blazing Wormhole Phoenix of Honour-bound Death without end Date: Mon, 28 Aug 2000 21:23:27 -0700 From: "Doomriser" Newsgroups: alt.startrek.vs.starwars Fist of the Blazing Wormhole Phoenix of Honour-bound Death without end Disclaimer: Star Wars and Star Trek are the property of the proletariat working classes. This for non-profit, not-distributive, no-fun, non- copiable, non-pliable, and non transmutable use. Brannon Braga and the other guy are assholes. All rights reserved. Prologue: The Imperial remnants drifted through space. A small, but deadly looking collection of dagger-shaped warships floated high above the galactic plane. Scarred from battle, they were all the remains of a vast and once-great Empire. But that would soon change. Chapter 1 Grand-Admiral Sheppard, self-promoted out of necessity now that he was the highest-ranking Imperial officer in the galaxy, ordered final checks as the fleet prepared to enter the wormhole that the Outbound Project had discovered so many years ago, the only hope now for the Empire. His ship was a modified Executor-class command cruiser, the Crimson Vendetta, of the Osiris-II sub-variant, scavenged from one of the Emperor's storage depots. His twelve Grand-Admiral clones stood obiediently on the bridge. There had been many modifications to this vessel, as his fleet had supplemented manpower shortages with firepower increases. Four Imperator Star Destroyers were welded onto the sides to provide added thrust, while a makeshift superlaser, made up of five- thousand heavy turbolasers, ran along the 25 km length of the vessel, which had been extended. The remainder of the fleet sidled the Crimson Vendetta, looking puny in comparison; only puny Carracks, Lancers, Imperator-III's, Marauders, Modular-Taskforce cruisers, the VSD Rasputin and the Arc Hammer-II. All veterans of the past twenty years of combat which had seen Jacen Solo's army of Jedi Knights drive the Empire out of the galaxy. And soon those cowardly Rebel terrorists who had killed Sheppard's parents and LT. Hit-Man's wife and child and Yates millions of friends on the Death Stars along with January's cat...would pay, would soon find that the disappearance of the Imperial Remnants meant the beginning of the destruction of the New Republic. There was a massive redshift as the fleet jumped into hyperspace. Chapter 2 A vast, pulsating glow filled the bridge. The familiar streaks of hyperspace had disappeared. Instead, yellow stars twirled sickeningly against a red sky as the deckplates shuddered. "Admiral, it looks like we've entered Otherspace!" exclaimed Nguyen. "What the kriff is that, Commander?" demanded Sheppard, holding onto a console for stability." "The theoretical dimension 'above' hyperspace, commonly known as Otherspace, acts as a conduit through conventional hyperspace, due to the lack of mass shadows." "If hyperspace is nowhere, then we're right dab smack in the kriffing middle" said Dalton. "Don't worry, Admiral," explained Nguyen, "we're almost right on schedule, only two hours to go." "_Almost_ right on schedule?" asked Sheppard, "That's odd. How long did the initial jump take, including our own preparation time?" he continued. "16.02 seconds, sir" replied Commander Nguyen. "That's 0.02 seconds too late," said Sheppard in an icy voice as he flipped a switch. Suddenly, the crew pits below opened up into space and Sheppard watched as the technicians squirmed helplessly in the vacuum of space. In Otherspace, the crew members would die slowly, having plenty of time to think about their error. In the meantime, Commander Nguyen activated the intercom, "Replacement crew needed on the bridge." Damn these occurrences were becoming all too regular. *** "Captain's Log, reported the computer aboard the Enterprise-E, "has been flushed." "Oh, thank heavens" said Picard, sitting aboard the Tachyon Operated Icky Log Expulsion Tube, or hydraulic waste-dispenser for short, "I was beginning to get worried it would never happen." "Now to enjoy a copy of 'Nameless Naked Ensigns'" he thought, before he was rudely interrupted by the comm. "Riker to Picard" "Damnit, I told you never to contact me here. This is my... private study time." "I understand, Captain," said Riker resignedly, "but we have a situation on Helplesscolony IV." "Oh, it's not the Aliens-with-Boards-with-nails- in-them again, is it?" "No sir, we've already stopped their intergalactic reign of terror. We have reports of Gem Haddar activity in their sector." "Oh, how interesting. A potential first-contact situation," said Picard, acting as if he were excited. "No, sir, I said the Gem Haddar were there. You must be confused with another story, or perhaps this will happen later." "I'll be right there," replied Picard, wishing he hadn't tried to get cheap highs from fiddling with his Borg implants. *** Two hours later The Enterprise arrived at Helplesscolony IV, only to see a massive subspace distortion a few light minutes away. "Captain, this is amazing," said LaForge, turning around from his console, "I'm picking up massive quantities of duralinium subspace resinate. That could only mean one thing." "That we need to switch to Crest?" said Data, laughing. "No," said Geordi, with a please-remove-his-emotion-chip look, "it means that we discovered a new wormhole!" "Fascinating Mr-" started Picard before he was interrupted by the gruff voice of Commander Worf, "Captain, Gem Haddar ships approaching," he said, pausing, "Ten of them!" "It's an ambush!" claimed Riker. "That means we'll have to go-" said Picard, "Into the wormhole," finished Dr. Crusher. "The chances of survival," said data, "are-" "Better than surviving those Gem Haddar ships," interrupted Picard. "Course set for the wormhole, Captain," said Geordi. "Make it engage, I mean," Picard shook his head with his hands, "Make it so!" The Enterprise began picking up speed, racing away from the Gem Haddar ships that had just arrived in the area." "These are no ordinary Gem Haddar ships, Captain," mentioned LaForge. "Explain, Mr. Laforge," demanded Picard "Huh?" asked the chief Engineer, "Oh, I just felt like saying that. You know, to make things more interesting and all." Picard was about to say something. Just then, a massive dagger shaped ship ripped out of the wormhole, ramming and tearing its way through the Gem Hadar flotilla. "Damnit conn, what the hell was that?" asked Sheppard? "Space debris, sir" said the helmsman. "No, I mean *before* we hit it, you Bantha Brain!" he screamed. The helmsman had only a moment to wince, before Sheppard pulled a lever that caused a lump of neutronium to fall on him from above. "It was a bunch of primitive starships, Admiral." said Cmdr. Nguyen "That's _*Grand Admiral*_ to you!" proclaimed Sheppard as he dropped Nguyen with a stun blast. "Well, then, " said Sheppard, smirking, "we're here..." Chapter 3 "Grand-Admiral," said a crewman alarmingly, "three of the enemy vessels got away." "Destroy the-", started Sheppard, but CAG Yates was already on top of it. Three TIE Fighters swooped down on the Dominion Attack Ships and shot them full of holes, detonating their warp cores and blowing them to smithereens. "Man, these guys are wimps," said Grand-Admiral Dalton. "Look," interrupted Nguyen, waking up from his stun-induced sleep, "Federation vessel at 10 O'clock." As an afterthought, Sheppard decided to destroy it as well. "What, that saucer-duck shaped ship? It offends me to look at it." he paused, then commanded "Light Turbolasers, - fire!" A smattering of turbolaser beams lanced out, pummelling the Enterprise and blowing multiple holes through the saucer section. Smoke filled up the bridge as an ensign read out the damage report, "Hull breaches on decks 4, 9, -" he was cut off by a boom-pop- boom when all the consoles in the room exploded, some at once, most of them in round-robin fashion. Picard looked down at the devastation under his feet. Eight ensigns and Lt. Meat lay dead on the floor. Commander Troi lay there also, still breathing but with a shard of glass in her back. "Damnit," said Picard, standing up and shaking his fist upwards, "I WILL NOT lose any more nameless ensigns!" Activating an intercom from a partially-damaged console, he ordered "All nameless ensigns to the Stardrive section. Repeat: All ensigns to the Stardrive section. It has not as of yet suffered any damage." "This saucer section is unstable," said Worf, "Let's at least give them a fighting chance." "You're right," spoke Riker, with a concerned look on his face, "prepare for saucer separation." "That's my job!," barked Picard, his voice shifting to a French accent, "I'll give the orders around here! Prepare for saucer separation." After the saucer section separated, the stardrive drifted away, gradually shrinking out of visual range. Just then, a massive asteroid whizzed by and wiped it out, killing all of the Enterprise's highly- valued Ensign's. *** All senior officers were to report to the Crimson Vendetta's briefing room to learn Sheppard's strategy. January and Hit-Man were the last to arrive, entering from opposite sides of the room and shaking cybernetic hands. "It's time to share my strategy," spoke Sheppard, the conversation in the room instantly dieing down. The Admirals looked up expectantly. Sheppard unfolded an old-fashioned "green-print" that was used in the millennia before affordable and compact hologram projection. A vessel so big that Death Stars would be used for ball bearings was highlighted. With it, he could conquer the multiverse. Everyone clapped in applause, except for January. "How are you going to get the resources to build this thing?" "Well, in case you haven't noticed, all the cargo bays of our ships are filled with the prototype World Devastators that we found in that depot." "Which one," asked Thrawn. "Was it the Mount Tantiss one or the one with all the TIE Defenders and Missile Boats, the one with my clones, or the Sun Crusher factory?" "Who knows?" said Sheppard, "you'd think they were all over the galaxy at the rate we were finding them." "Well, anyway, does your creation have a name?" asked Moff Von Lowe. "Oh, who cares, its just gonna be something cheesy anyway" said Dalton, "probably involving Death or Crusher." "Close," remarked Sheppard, "it's the Super World Death Crusher" Chapter 4 The Enterprise saucer sat drifting helplessly in space. Littered with pockmarks from turbolaser blasts and collisions with the abundant space debris in the area, she looked like she had little time left. "Well, this is it," said Riker. The air of hopelessness on the bridge had not diminished since the loss of most of the Enterprise's crew. "Captain," said Troi, suddenly perking up, "I sense a presence outside the ship." What is it? "I don't know." "I'm scanning for cloaks," said Geordi, "wait...here it is! There's a ship right next to the women's showering room." A computer projection showed up on the viewscreen, where a small, stubby starship with an open porthole was peering into the women's quarters. "Hail them!" ordered Picard. There was some static on the viewscreen, but it quickly resolved itself into the image of a large, blue haired alien. "I wos hopping to see some of your ensigns nacked! Wait-" He began adjusting a dial just slightly out of view" "Sorry," he pressed on, "universal translator was having some difficulty. Now as I was saying-" "We don't have any more ensigns," proclaimed the captain. "Oh." said the alien dejectedly, "well it looks like I should go then." "Wait," said Riker, "we could use a tow back to Earth." "Well I guess, said the alien, "but I'm gonna need fuel." "We can't give-" started Picard "No, not that kind of fuel. I want a banquet. In my honour!" "That can be arranged," replied Picard. "Well then what are we waiting for. Name's Kalib by the way." Picard sat in the Enterprise's banquet room, and wished Troi were here, to help him understand this tricky First Contact Scenario. Oh, wait. She was. Picard leaned awkwardly over to Troi, "Counsellor, what are you sensing?" "HIS HAND, UP MY SKIRT!" she screamed. The alien belched, shaking the room to its foundations. Picard realized this job would demand his full diplomatic skills, "Well, Mr. Carob," he started "Kalib!" corrected the offended creature, pausing to grab a Bath-leh from Worf's ceremonial outfit and proceeding to scratch his back with it. Picard inwardly flinched. "Mr. Kalib. I'll be quite frank with you. We are facing an unknown enemy of great power and could greatly use your-" "Wait a minute," interrupted Kalib, rising from his chair with an astonished look on his face, "you mean you don't know who you're fighting?" "Ah, here it is" said Kalib, having finished searching through the Enterprise's records. "See that big dagger shaped ship," he said, pointing to a printout from the Enterprise's scanners, "it looks just like the ones in these movies, this 'Star Wars' trilogy." Picard watched the video clips from the computer. Death Stars, Dark Sith knights, Star Destroyers, and stormtroopers all stood out as dangerous images in his mind. "My God," said Riker, "these people are more dangerous than we thought!" *** Barely noticeable, even to the trained observer, ten Corvettes took off from the giant docking bays of the Crimson Vendetta. Housing the Cleaners and a host of heavy weapons, the corvettes, with mission in mind, blasted into hyperspace. Miles O'Brien sat in the Ops room, drinking coffee, when suddenly he almost swallowed it as a host of small ships decloaked in front of the station. Back on Cleaner 1, Yates struggled with Grand-Admiral Dalton. "What's our cover," he asked? "Uhh. I don't know? Just pr- Aww! Quick, they're hailing us!" A curly haired main in pyjamas appeared on the viewscreen. "Unidentified spacecraft," he said, "you have arrived at Deep Space 9. Please identify yourselves." "Uhh...," said Yates, "we're just looking for a washroom? Can we use yours?" [WARNING: LT. Hit-Man Content] A small Shuttle took off, out of Cleaner 5's docking bay. It's sole occupant was LT. Hit-Man, who was engaged in a comm discussion with Yates. "Shall we BDZ the planet?," he asked. "Not yet," said LT. Hit-Man. Then, in a voice as dark and cold as night, LT. Hit-Man spoke "You'll get those maps. I'll handle it myself." Yates, and everyone aboard the Cleaner 1, shivered. "10 bars of latinum," spoke LT. Hit-Man, "is my final offer." "But I was promised 20," complained Quark. Lt. Hit-Man straightened up, and his menacing bulk peered down at Quark. "Perhaps you need some further motivation," said LT. Hit-Man in a voice as frigid as solid hydrogen. He reached into his pack and pulled out Nog's testicles, splattered onto the top of his lightsaber. "Pray that I do not alter the deal any further." Quark nodded. "Now give me the data." "What, for free?" asked Quark, dumbfounded Having had enough, LT. Hit-Man took Quark over his knee and broke his spine node by node, sickening cracks following each snap of his fingers. LT. Hit-Man reached behind Quark's ear and pulled out the starmaps. "Sheppard shouldn't have any trouble getting around now..." thought LT. Hit-Man. As the stormtrooper transports slammed into the side of the station, the Cleaners swarmed into the battle-darkened corridors, killing anything not in white stormtrooper armour. Meanwhile, each Cleaner Corellian Corvette moved into BDZ position, with the monitor taking lead position over the most populated area. As the Cleaners Base-Delta-Zeroed Bajor, LT. Hit-Man left the Feds a little present; when the 50 10,000 megaton B-26 bombs set on proximity detonate went off, completely obliterating the station and much of the planet it orbited, it would present a surprise to anyone who decided to investigate what had happened. Chapter 5 The New Republic fleet tracking office had by now, discovered the whereabouts of Sheppard's fleet, and the high command was arguing on what to do about it. "I say leave it," said General Jacen Solo, "it's out of our hands now. Let the Force deal with it." Old Man Solo sat up from the back of the room and cleared his throat. "I know I'm not listened to around here much anymore; many of you think I'm crazy," he paused, "but it tugs at my heart to know what's going to happen to those poor beings once Sheppard's fleet begins its rampage of terror." There was a collective nod of agreement from the council. "But what can we do about it," asked the disembodied voice of Admiral Hiram Drayson, whose mind had been transplanted into the Coruscant computer net before his death, "our Jedi fleet is stretched thin as it is, what with the fighting with the Yuzzan Vong/Ssiv ruuk/Planet Eater/Giant Spaceborne Amoeba armada." "Well, one thing very is clear," remarked Solo, "and that is that we need heroes more than ever before..." Major Chuck Sonnenburg, of the New Republic Elite Commando division #1, admired his visage in the mirror; his boyish looks had long been replaced by his square, muscular jaw, but his mind remained as sharp as a tack. He still often performed intelligence duty on the side, and he had been the one to discover the whereabouts of Sheppard's fleet. Having been just about to take a vacation with his "assistant", Winter, he had heard the Republic's cry for heroes and knew that they would find no better than he. Zipping up his jacket, he could not avoid fingering his Kalidoorian Sniper's crest and Honorary Member of Rogue Squadron pins. He had been told that the mission was suicide; that he would be expected to secure an entire galaxy by stopping the Imperial fleet. But, like that time when he stopped the Death Star III by dropping a thermal detonator down an exhaust port, he knew what had to be done. Entering his private docking gantry, he stood for a minute, proudly admiring his modified X/E-Wing fighter and the Republic that built it. Stepping into his cockpit, with his faithful droid E2R2, he pushed the hyperdrive level and accelerated into destiny. *** "Grand-Admiral, we are now approaching Earth," informed Commander Nguyen. "Distance?" asked Sheppard. "Approximately 300 light years, G-A." Sheppard turned to Thrawn, who was watching a viewscreen of lightspeed signals being received from Earth. "Look at their art," said Thrawn, watching an advertisement for Pokemon, "their culture, so strong and vibrant. They will be difficult to defeat." "Even thought what you just said was completely stupid," said Sheppard, "I need you greatly, so I will not kill you." He turned instead to the crew pits, where he pulled out a blaster rifle and shot down a few technicians. "I'm really running out of ideas here," grumbled Sheppard. *** The Enterprise saucer sat in the main docking bay of Spacedock, where it awaited a new stardrive section. A small dock shuttle eased its way part the saucer, under the Captain's Yacht docking area. After it docked, the lone occupant made his way to the ready room. Picard sat in his ready room, blasting models of Star Wars ships with a hand phaser. The door chime beeped. "Enter," said Picard as he fried the Executor. Admiral Boyd, Starfleet Corps of Engineers entered. "Captain," he started, handing Picard as series of datapads, "we are making several modifications to the Enterprise." Picard sat there, staring at the floor, saying nothing. Boyd changed his composure to a more relaxed posture, "Look, Captain, I know you're sad about the loss of your ensigns, but we can always get new ones," consoled Boyd. "I know," replied Picard, "but for these 10 minutes or so I'll be just inconsolable." "What if I told you that you were getting type XII phasers?" asked Boyd. Picard perked up a little. "...and it's got 3 nacelles and quantum torps and ablative armour," he continued. "How will these modifications fare against the Empire," asked Picard. "We expect you to last an extra 10 seconds against the Crimson Vendetta, Captain." finished Boyd. "What?" asked Picard, astounded, "that's it?" "Well what the hell did you expect," asked Boyd, "a fucking quantum leap in technology? Two Galaxy-class ships pasted together? What the hell does it mean when you're going up against heavily-armed battleships that're measured in kilometres?" "I guess we'll have to rely on our character shields as usual," said Picard. "Damn right," said Boyd, "and I've upgraded those to Mark IV." Chapter 6 Hooray and up she rises Hooray and up she rises Hooray and up she rises Early in the morning. What shall we do with the drunken sailor, What shall we do with the drunken sailor, What shall we do with the drunken sailor, Early in the morning. chorus Put him in a longboat 'til he's sober... chorus Pull out the plug and wet him all over... chorus Put him in the scuppers with a hose-pipe on him... chorus Heave him by the leg in a runnig bowline... chorus Shave his head with a rusty razor... chorus Put him in the bed with the captain's daughter... chorus Starshipman 3rd class Chris O'Farrell applied the last touch of gold paint to the surface of the Crimson Vendetta. After being caught trying to steal Sheppard's deluxe Antarian coffee beans, he had been ordered to paint the entire surface of the Executor-class vessel. A tiring task, to say the least, O'Farrell knew he had gotten off lightly, and thanked his lucky stars for this opportunity to live. But he had gotten his revenge; the last time he had been on shore leave, he had bought a large canister of mosquitoes for this exact purpose. And when he got back on the Crimson [now golden] Vendetta, he would release them into the air filtration system, and they would go for the first blood they smelled, hopefully on the bridge. The Crimson Vendetta, now painted golden, spearheaded its way towards the Sol system. Already visible past its pointy edges was Sol itself, and dots of light gradually grew, resolving themselves into planets. *** In the meantime, the Federation Council was involved in a heated debate on what to about the oncoming invasion. "I demand Q get involved!" said one senator, "he's our only hope." "I'm not sure if it would even work," challenged another, "there's no telling if he would even fight on our side. But if we could-" "DENIED!," shouted council member Kynes. "that would violate the rules of the Almighty FAQ!" There was a murmuring of agreement from the council. "The FAQ is holier than God," said another council member, "it even supersedes the Prime Directive." "That may be correct, Strowbridge," said the Federation President, "but we will handle this crisis in typical Federation manner. Now we can either 1. Spread our forces so thin to deal with this problem that the Enterprise is the only ship in the quadrant. or 2. Concentrate all forces around Earth." There was a pause as the council pondered this decision. Then a councillor stood up and said, "I think we should root for option-" Suddenly, he was interrupted by a vidcast from the main screen on the wall. It displayed four words. "Mars is under attack." Sheppard watched as turbolasers crashed upon the surface of Mars, wrecking Utopia Planita. "Enemy is still resisting, Grand-Admiral," said Cmdr. Nguyen. "Their defensive emplacements are miles underground." explained the tactical officer, "We've done all that a turbolaser bombardment can do!" "Aren't you forgetting something?" interrogated Sheppard. The tactical officer look puzzled, until Sheppard motioned with his blaster rifle. "...Grand Admiral" added the officer cautiously. Sheppard paused to think for a moment, then he declared "If the enemy wants to cower from us underground, then we'll bring the fight to them!" The crew had one of their "Oh, no, not again!" looks showing on their faces. "Ramming speed!" ordered Sheppard. "Sir?" asked his tactical officer, "The enemy is a planet!" "Do I have to do everything myself," demanded Sheppard, before dispatching his overly-cautious tactical officer with a Mer-Sonn disruptor. He took the conn and rammed the Crimson Vendetta into the Utopia Planita surface. After passing through layers of molten rock, and emerging out the other side of Mars from a newly-formed crater, Sheppard flicked a button on his chair which activated the hololink to Ambassador Spyda. "How are the negotiations for complete Federation surrender going?" he asked. "Not too well," admitted Spyda, looking pained as he turned away from his own personal viewscreen. "Patch me into the negotiations," ordered Sheppard. The screen began forming into the Federation council, but suddenly broad bands of static obscured the transmission. "Grand-Admiral," shouted the new tactical officer, "starship decloaking off the starboard bow!" A small starship decloaked, and fired a torpedo at the Crimson Vendetta, which bounced harmlessly off its shields. After recloaking, Kalib sat watching the Crimson Vendetta from his viewport. "Well," he thought, "I've done what I could," just before he manoeuvred out of the way and warped home. "Riiight," said Sheppard, before turning back to the clear display. The Federation council was in even more of an uproar than usual. "I urge you," protested Spyda, "to surrender with minimal losses. An unconditional surrender will guarantee-" "Us nothing!," interrupted Admiral Boyd, striding into the debate, "The Imperials are thieves and murderers and cannot be trusted. Our only solution is to blast their fleet with-" "Oh shut up," countered Kynes, "Your phasers don't have enough firepower to vapourize the crust in your undies. I even-" He was cut short by Boyd tackling him, and they both began strangling each other, to see who would die first. "Well, I suppose we have no choice." said Sheppard, swatting an errant mosquito which had found its way onto the bridge, "The Terrans will not be convinced without some kind of firepower demonstration. Prime the superlaser," he finished "and set course for Earth." *** The tense atmosphere on the bridge of the Enterprise was broken by Picard issuing orders to his crew. "LT. Koarpse, shields full power! I want full frontal when we engage the Imperials. That Golden Star Destroyer is getting closer by the minute... Ensign Fodder, I want torps ready on my command. Ensign Jimmy, prepare for Picard-" "Ensign Jimmy this, Ensign Jimmy that!" interrupted Ensign Jimmy, "I've been working in Starfleet for _twenty_ years now, and I'm still an ensign!" He pointed to his original red uniform which he had not changed out of since his enlistment in Starfleet. "You know," he continued, "I think the reason I've been kept back so long is that you never did expect me to live this long. I mean, I've never heard of a retirement plan for redshirts-" "That's enough!" shouted Picard, "there are more important matters at hand here." Aboard the Haida, the Lakota's top-secret sister ship, Captain Sanchez asked "Do you have any ideas, Engineer Lowe? Now that our diplomatic efforts have failed, and Picard was in charge that time, we'll need all the solutions we can get!" "If we set our navigational deflectors," suggested Lowe, "to the frequency of interstellar hydrogen and broadcast a subspace tachyonic pulse, we'll be able to perform a reverse quantum polarity matrix, which should temporaily drop the shield by way of flux processes, but I'll need a moment to relaign the isolinear chips on the inertial damper array." "Do it then." ordered Pablo. Picard turned towards his bridge crew, and standing up, he pledged "We need to stop these medieval barbarians." His bridge crew relaxed in anticipation of one of his all-or-nothing Captain Ahab speeches. Some crew members pulled out books from under their consoles. "Never has there been so great to the Federation as now," he continued, "but those who survive -and hopefully we will be among them- will remember this as our final- er... finest hour," he corrected, "For it is now that we will stop them, for it is *here* that we will draw a line in the stars, for it is here..." "Captain," interrupted Troi, who was staring intentely at the viewscreen, "look!" A tiny object could be seen moving up against the vast bulk of the Imperial fleet. The USS Haida was already leading the Federation fleet to engage the Empire. Twisting and turning wildily through Imperial fire, the Haida's deflectors suddenly began glowing with a bright mauve light. Suddenly, a bright orange beam pulsed out onto the shield generators on the Crimson Vendetta. "Grand-Admiral," reported Phong frantically aboard the Crimson Vendetta, "our shields are down!" "Concentrate our screens," ordered Sheppard, attempting to claw his way through a cloud of mosquitoes, "I don't want anything getting through." "Sir, our shields-" "I DON'T CARE ABOUT OUR SHIELDS!" screamed Sheppard, then in a more subdued voice, "Get me some freaking Stormtrooper armor or something." These mosquitos should be outlawed or exterminated, immediately!" Picard stood dumbfounded on the bridge of the Enterprise as the Haida stole their thunder. The rest of his crew sat openmouthed; a ship that was not the Enterprise had come up with a solution to defeat the Imperials. "Captain," started Data, "I've manage to retransmit the NDF effect-" "Thank-you Mr. Data" said Picard, dissapointedly waving him away, "but it's in the hands of the fleet now." I'm going to my quarters to put on a diamond tiera. "Allow me to come too," said Riker, pulling out a fishnet stocking from under his uniform. "Quick now," said Sheppard, glancing furtively around the bridge as Federation torpedoes whizzed by. "I'm priming the superlaser," reported Nguyen "And now it is time to destroy Earth," said Sheppard saliciously. "Come on, can we just wait a minute," asked Dalton, running on a spot, "I really have to take a crap!" "What," asked Sheppard, unbelieving, infuriated, "evacuate in our moment of triumph?" "Alright," conceded Sheppard, we'll wait a minute-" "I can hold it-I can hold it." strained Dalton. "Then fire at will," ordered Sheppard. "Superlaser won't fire sir," explained Phong, "it needs a minute to recharge." Sheppard fidgeted in his command chair. "Damn those technicians," said Sheppard, fidgeting in his command chair, I want the superlaser now!" He turned a dial, activating the poison gas dispensers in the superlaser control room. "Now they'll pay!" shouted Sheppard, as he waited a few more seconds for the automation to kick in and recharge the superlaser. "Fire!" Suddenly, as the superlaser lanced out from the Crimson Vendetta, ten thousand Borg Cubes appeared out of transwarp. Dalton crapped. The Borg cubes, meanwhile, had completly oblitherated themselves, having appeared directly in the path of the superlaser. "Holy Sith!" screamed Sheppard, "Lets get the kriff out of here." The Golden Star Destroyer accelerated forwards, spinning around to its jump point and leaving a trail of ionized plasma from its engines. It would never harass Earth again. It mad mighty war machines for that. *** The Borg Queen smiled, or at least attempted the reasonable approximation of a smile, as she contemplated her navel and future plans. Her agent, Anasazi, had been planted aboard the invader ship, and soon the technology of the Empire would be hers! Mwuhahahahah. Mwuhahahah. MWUHAHAHAHH. **** Story arc II of Fist of the Blazing Wormhole Phoenix of Honour-bound Death without end: Chapter 8 Conquest of the Distant Thundering Expansion Surprise Outpost of Thrawn's Glory Star Destroyers darted around the Super World Death Crusher, looking like mere atoms in comparison to the vast bulk of the station. To gather the resources for this project, the Imperials had consumed with their World Devastators all the planets in the sector, from the world belonging to the peaceful (and surprisingly unresisting) Organians to the mineral rich world of the Horta. As Sheppard lay in the Crimson Vendetta's undamaged observation deck, he was sure that the universe would soon be his. Unseen stars called out to him, waiting to be discovered. Destiny awaited, for the magnificent universe out there could have a thousand things in store for Sheppard. Sheppard, oblivious to it all, paid no attention to these facts, instead going through tactical simulations based on speculations derived from simulated contact between the forces of the Federation and the Empire. Sheppard surveyed the behemoth under construction from the safety of the observation decks. He found himself strongly hoping that his newly vacuum- fumigated bridge would be ready soon. Shedding a silent tear, he paused for a moment, remembering the Revenger. The Star Destroyer was one of the four that had been attached to the Crimson Vendetta for additional thrust, but it would perform BDZ no more. Turning to Commander Nguyen, he tried to relieve his stress. "Don't we have any news? Any good news at all?" "Well sir," said Nguyen, clearing his throat, "we do not have any good news, sir." "WHAT?" fumed Sheppard, "What they hell kind of morale officer are you anyway." Phong was clearly taken aback. "Sir, I'm not the morale officer. There is no morale officer, unless you're talking about the Kill Paul Jacques computer program. I am the first officer." "Really," said Sheppard with raised eyebrows, "Huh. So no good news at all?" "Well," started Phone, "We no longer have to worry about micrometeorite fractures, chipped paint, or dirty hull surfaces. O'Farrell's team is finishing washing the surface of the Crimson Vendetta." "Yes," agreed Sheppard, his eyes focused and staring intently beyond, "but who washes the washers?" Sheppard placated his misery by turning his attention back to the Super World Death Crusher. It was already 90% complete and would be ready within two weeks. Excitement was certainly high in the fleet, from Sheppard himself to the lowliest crewmember. *** Two stormtroopers and a certain Starshipman 3rd class stood lounging noisily in a corridor by the mess. "Sithspawn, that Admiral Daala is HOT," said one stormtrooper. The other stormtrooper nodded. "I mean, I'd really like to grab her Death Stars," suggested O'Farrell, the others chuckling, "I mean, I'd really love to smack my Executor into her trench, youknowwhatImean?" he continued giggling, inspired by the encouraging laughter of his friends, "Jeez, I'd just love to ram my proton torpedoes down her shaf-" "*WHAT* DID YOU SAY?" boomed a voice from around the corridor. *** Meanwhile, Picard had hailed Admiral Boyd in order to apologize for letting the stricken Imperial flagship get away. Before Picard could utter a word, Boyd spat "You have hailed me for the last time, Picard." Picard winced, he had been demoted. "I am replacing you with Captain Spickard." "Admiral," started Picard, "I beg you to reconsider this." "We don't have time for your petty career, _Ensign_," said Boyd, relishing the new title, "Now I'd like to chat longer, but I have an appointment in the Federation Council, to advise them on matters that _you_ couldn't solve." And with that the transmission was over. Boyd strolled from his office on the 323rd floor of the United Planets building, and after being scanned by 56 separate scanning devices, to the underground Pneumatically Operated Officer Passenger Shuttle Yard transport centre. He then took the POOPS 37 to Starfleet Command. "I've analysed the battle" stated Boyd, as he strolled through the entrance of the chamber hall, "and have key information for our future plans." "Oh, more of your stupid tactical projections?," mused Kynes, "I thought we were here to implement the new Starfleet rules and regulations." "I didn't become an Admiral in Desk Command from being stupid," replied Boyd. Now as for-" "Cluster-fuck," interrupted Kynes. "Why don't you come here and say that?" demanded Boyd "I might get Boyd-itis" snarkily replied Kynes "Aren't you the choda master?" asked Boyd "Come on," pleaded Kynes, "at least I don't have to pee on my testicles when I go to the washroom because my dick is so small." "You're such as pussy," accused Boyd. "You are what you eat," came the retort from Kynes. Suddenly, there was a massive crash from the ceiling as a strange Starfighter came crashing through. As the Federation council tensed or ducked behind chairs, a tall man emerged from the slowly opening cockpit in a smooth stride, acting like nothing was happening. Even though the poor page Jimothy Tones had been crushed by the impact of the starfighter! "Please," said Sonnenburg, "are we going to bicker here pointlessly or are we going to act like a Rules and Regulations council?" As the shocked spectators stared silently, someone pointed to a horrible monstrosity that had emerged from under the damaged E/X-Wing. "Oh...my...God," gasped Boyd. "Holy jumpin' Jesus," said the Federation President. Councillor Strowbridge had just been beaming down to assume his place in the council when the newcomer's E/X-Wing smashed through the ceiling. It must have disrupted the transporter beam and merged him with Kynes, creating some sort of Strow-Kynes. Before anyone could comment on the new aberration, a portly man came puffing into the room. "We have a new weapon, interrupted Edam, who came running into the council unaware of the past five minutes' transgressions. After staring around for a few moments, he announced, "Frequency Undulating Quantums, or FUQs." "If we use them against the Imperials, they will be FUQued." Most people were still too stunned to reply, but Strow-Kynes had an immediate thought. "Proof?" asked Strow/Kynes. "Well, I guess I could make some calculations..." offered Edam. Before anyone could speak, Strow/Kynes punched in a command on the audio speakers and began to sing a song. [Sung to the tune of "A Perfect Nanny" from _Mary Poppins_] A Trek debater, must use his calculations A Trek debater, must never speculate For then he will stare At his Janeway underwear Whereupon he will masturbate Strow/Kynes: Are you getting this, troll? Boyd and Edam: (sarcastically), "Yes Kynes, every word." The Strow/Kynes continued: A Trek debater must not be pretentious A Trek debater, must follow the FAQ For if he goes on a roll Then he will be called a troll And what follows is Madness, flamewars, catastrophe! anarchy - In short you have a ghastly mess! "The last part barely even rhymed," commented Edam sardonically. "That's it," complained Boyd, "I'm leaving." Chapter 9 Sheppard was in the docking bay playing golf with a set of Horta eggs when he was interrupted by Commander Nguyen. Putting his nine-iron aside, he asked "What could possibly be so important to interrupt this game. I was fifty over-par, you know." "Umm..." explained Nguyen, "that's bad sir. You're supposed to try to keep under-" "I know," interrupted Sheppard angrily, "I just wanted to hit the Horta eggs a few more times, knowing that there might still be living creatures in them." He let his shoulders relax. "So what did you discover." "Captain, our research shows that a warp engine, of the kind that the Federation uses, has the potential for time travel." "WHAT?" exclaimed Sheppard, "and they knew this all along? How long have we known this." "Well the theory was postulated several weeks ago..." "WHAT?" exclaimed Sheppard, again. "Execute the scientists for the delay in my being informed of this development." "Uh...yes sir." "And send an expedition to recover a warp drive - *immediately*," ordered Sheppard. Phong left the room to send the word, leaving the Admiral to return to his game of "golf". *** Back in Federation space, Captain Hyde stood on the bridge of his brand-new Akira-class starship. Hailing Starfleet Command, he voiced his concerns to the ensign at the communications terminal. "Why can't you establish a comm link to Starfleet HQ? It's a Federation installation less than one AU away?" "Um... I don't know the number to dial out with," said the Communications Officer. Hyde was perplexed. "What? Don't you know how to hail?" "Oh," said the ensign, realization dawning on his face, "HAIL! Of course. No, the weather is fine at Starfleet Headquarters. Well last time I was there but it was August-" Hyde was stunned now. "NO NO, I MEAN HAIL AS IN ESTABLISH A VISUAL/AUDIO CONNECTION," screamed Hyde. "Oh. I can Hail. I saw it before in an old 17th century movie. Hold on," said the ensign. "Sssstttarrfflllletttttt Heeeaddddqquaaarterrrs," he called out while cupping his hands to his mouth. "My God!," exclaimed Hyde, "what is your name and rank?" "Ensign Jones, sir," said the proud young officer. "Where were you trained?" asked Hyde. "I was trained at the Paul Garrack Institute of Science," said the man, hands at hips, chin raised outwards, "I took philosophy but my prof. used to be a Comm. Officer so I learned what I needed from him." "And who allowed you to serve on this ship?" inquired the stunned Captain Hyde. "I did, sir," said the weapon officer. He extended a hand in friendship, "LT. Jones, sir." "Another one?" asked Hyde, "Is this nepotism or something? Who let *you* on the ship," he asked the Security Officer." "I did, sir. Lt.-Commander Jones. At your service." Hyde clutched his head in his hands, "Am I surrounded by Jones'?" he whimpered. "YES SIR!" *** Later Boyd decided to have a conference with Admiral BLAH about his choice of captain for the Enterprise. "Do you think I made the right decision in choosing Spickard over Kerkhov?" asked Boyd. "Well, only time will tell," explained BLAH. "But who is the better officer?" inquired Boyd. "Well, the Kerkhov vs. Spickard debate has been ranging for decades." said BLAH. "True," agreed Boyd, "but maybe the person I should be asking is Picard." "I suggest you send Spickard and see how it works out," said BLAH, "and if he runs into any... difficulties... we'll send Kerkhov next. "Fair enough. It is certainly better than having two captains on the same ship. I'll send Spickard right away. And talk to Picard." Boyd then brought Picard up on the LCARS console. Before he could even say a word, Picard began a characteristic tirade. "Your judgement call in letting me go was misguided. Deranged, even-" said Picard long before Boyd could even get a word in edgewise. "Captain, you're not list-" Suddenly, Picard's face disappeared off the screen and was replaced by what Boyd realized was a theatre stage filled with sets and actors, possibly a holodeck. There, the zoom out revealed Picard fully resplendent in his 19th century British Army uniform. Before Boyd could say anything, Picard started his song and dance. Literally. PICARD: [Sung to the tune of: "I am the very model of a modern Major-General from the _Pirates of Penzance_.] I am the very model of a modern Starfleet Captain, Am I incompetent? You surely can say that again, I know the works of Shakespeare, I can quote the plays historical From Hamlet to the Tempest, in order categorical I'm very well acquainted too, with Starfleet command protocol, Which causes me to always make the worst decisions of them all, My few leftover successes are generally tentative Thanks to restrictions posed by our lameass Prime Directive ALL: Thanks to restrictions, etc. PICARD: When defeated I abandoned ship and left it to the Ferenghi Who promptly pressed it into service and used it right back against me Am I incompetent? You surely can say that again, I am the very model of a modern Starfleet Captain ALL: In short, is he incompetent? You surely can say that again, He is the very model of a modern Starfleet Captain PICARD: No-one has ever forcibly removed me from my command Except for some Bynars and a super-villain hologram And some escaped robot criminals who were on the lam And Klingons who took the warp core and almost made it go blam That's right, no-one's ever run this ship but me But for some kids, and the damn Crystalline Entity And tiny robots thought commanders they could be And half the crew at any point in interstellar journeys ALL: And half the crew at any point, etc... PICARD: I can speak English, Klingon, and the language from that planet Zeta As long as I have my trustly Universal Translator Am I incompetent? You surely can say that again! I am the very model of a modern Starfleet Captain ALL: In short, is he incompetent? You surely can say that again, He is the very model of a modern Starfleet Captain PICARD: I could defeat the great Captain James T. Kirk If he were in a shuttle without a single system that did work Even then he would defeat me by some clever quirk But, come on, after all you did promote that jerk When I am stunned by progress that is made in modern gunnery, When I know less of tactics than a novice in a nunnery- In short, when I lack a smattering of elemental strategy, You'll say a better Starfleet Captain has never sat a gee. ALL: You'll say a better Starfleet Captain, etc. PICARD: A device became on a Baku world that granted life forever So naturally I blasted it back into the ether Am I incompetent, you surely can say that again, I am the very model of a modern Starfleet Captain ALL: But still, is he incompetent, you surely can say that again, He is the very model of a modern Starfleet Captain Chapter 10 The Hornet Interceptor briefly streaked into Sonnenburg's cockpit gunsight. That was more than enough. He pushed the fire button and throttled upwards, which of course was really downwards since he was flying upside down. The Hornet erupted in a blazing white cloud of superheated debris. "What the kriff does he think I'm using," thought Charles as he steered the Z-95 towards the criminal's wingman, "triple blasters?" The wingman was a much better tactician, or at least it could be said he knew his fighter well. Instead of trying to out-turn another atmospheric fighter as Mr. Bacon Bits had tried just moments ago, the wingman used the turning jets on the Hornet to thrust himself directly over his Z-95. Sonnenburg had seen this tactic before and engaged the repulsorlift drive on full power. The Z-95 shot up horizontally, giving it the wide profile it would need. It smashed through the side of the Hornet before it could get a firing position on the rear of what should have been an easy target. The Hornet spun out of control, but quickly realigned itself. "This one wasn't made out of cast off Y-Wing parts," thought Chuck. Activating his concussion missile launcher, he primed his engines for maximum speed. This would be a standoff as the turbo-charged cannons of the Interceptor could make mincemeat out of his fighter at close range. The Hornet began to close in on the Z-95, but Chuck was already ahead of him. The Z-95 had engaged its repulsorlifts and began climbing into space. But it was too late. The Z-95 was still in range of the turbocharged-lasers. A green burst of blazing hot fire ripped out from the Hornet and shredded the Headhunter in a blinding orange fireball. It was the last thing Chuck remembered. Until he woke up. Wiping his sweated brow, he began hyperventilating. "It was...just...a...dream." he repeated over and over again. "I know," said a voice. "Master Yoda!" exclaimed Chuck. He paused in anticipation, then continued, "what brings you here? Is it my dream? What does it mean?" "A vision it is," agreed Yoda, "Prescience do you have." "I still do not understand its meaning," inquired Chuck. "Exploded nothing has in ten paragraphs, no?" asked Yoda. "Of course!" exclaimed Chuck. "I have to give the audience a jolt every ten minutes or we might as well have Dalton writing this!" "Right you are, matey," said Yoda, "Now disappear I must or readers will question my unnecessary presence in this hackjob story." "Goodbye, Master Yoda." "Goodbye, my Son. Visions you will continue to have." And with that, Yoda disappeared, the image of his head being replaced by a kettle that was behind him. *** U.S.S. Expendable, Akira class Captain Hyde was in a nightmare world of his own. "Jesus," thought Hyde to himself, "is there anyone who can get me out of this." As if by magic, a man in a strange Federation uniform appeared. "Jesus?," thought Hyde. Then he recognized the uniform. "Section 31!" he exclaimed, "Thank God someone's here to help. What can I address you by or is your name top secret," he smiled, relieved. "IxJackass is my Top Secret codename, or you can just address me by my real name, Ephanuel Jones," he mentioned on the open bridge. "Another Jones!" cried Hyde, "Let me guess," he continued, "you're the one behind all this. 'fess up." "Well, you got me!" confessed IxJackass, "But I must tell you what I'm here for. You have secret orders coming in from Starfleet Command." "Captain's eyes only?" assumed Hyde. "That's right. You should be receiving them as we speak." "Shall I put them on screen," interrupted Ensign Jones. "NO you MORON," exploded Hyde, "I'll take it in _quarters_." "Sir," said Science Officer Jones, "May I remind you that metal currency has been discontinued since the advent of electronic banking, nor is it allowed in the Federation as-" "I mean in my ROOM," explained Hyde, "in the place where I EAT and SLEEP and get away from you for a precious forty minutes a day." Captain Hyde directly beamed into his quarters to avoid meeting other Jones' crewmembers in the hallways and then get stuck with them in the turbolifts. Activating his LCARS terminal, he began to receive the transmission, which he belatedly realised was actually a two-way real time discussion with Admiral BLAH. "Oh, sorry to keep you waiting sir, now what was this all about?" "Captain Hyde," started Admiral BLAH, "you've been given command of a very special ship-" "What the hell do you mean, special," spat Hyde, "I'm stuck with trolls and morons." "I was just getting to that," explained BLAH, "Now, as you may or may not know, your ship is testing a new device called FUQ, or Frequency Undulating Quantums. It can render Imperial weapons useless. But it does create a field which we call the Stupid Haze of Argumentative Trolling or SHAT, which causes crewmembers in an area of uncertain size to become stupid. So naturally we decided to crew your ship with personnel who were already stupid argumentative idiots." "But what about me? I'm not a stupid argumentative idiot, you...uh...idiot." "Starfleet regulations forbid us to captain a ship with anyone who does not meet minimum requirements based on aptitude tests." "You mean there's a minimum? And they can't meet-" "Save me the commentary, Hyde. You're going and you don't have a choice in the matter." "It's just that I get this impression that we're-expendable or something. That we're just going to be a diversion for the main striking force while the Enterprise saves the day." "That's nonsense," disagreed BLAH, "the Expendable is one of the newest ships in the fleet. Now link up with the Decoy and the Fodder and continue your mission." "But-" "Save me the butts, Hyde. Starfleet regulation 36-C says-" "Fuck you!" exclaimed Hyde, "Fuck your miles and miles of red tape!" It was pointless. BLAH had already severed the connection. Hyde sat back and wondered how badly the SHAT field was affecting him. He was already getting a severe mind-FUQ.