Battleground Alpha : Interlude

They walked past the mounds of bodies that littered the hallways of the U.S.S. Aspiration Some of the bodies seemed relatively untouched, with only small holes where some sort of blade had been thrust. The state of some of the other bodies however, made it difficult to determine what species they had been, yet alone who they were. Cauterised limbs were strewn throughout the corridor. Lieutenant Commander Veeray retched at the stench of death that pervaded the air.

 

Suddenly he spotted ensign Rolf sitting in the corner. He ran over to him to see if he was okay, and touched him on the shoulder. At this slight movement, the head of the body fell forwards, rolled, and landed against his boots staring up at his face blankly.

 

Sickened by the sight, Veeray turned to one side. He heard the sound of stomachs emptying behind him. "Whoever did this must be some kind of animal! We will give him no mercy! Move out."

 

As they walked past the bodies, a primeval scream rang throughout the ship. This was followed by the most terrifying war cry they had ever heard. The troops ran forward towards the sound of the ensuing battle. As they approached, they heard a strange buzzing sound filling the air, accompanied by the sound of bodies hitting the ground. The elite troopers burst through the door and were stunned by the sight before them.

 

A lone, human stood in the middle of the room waving a glowing blade. He seemed to be injured so Veeray motioned for a medic to see to him. As they medic approached, he noticed that the man was not bleeding, but was covered by the dried blood and gore of the hundreds of victims he had mercilessly slain. Quicker than Veeray had ever seen anyone move, the man leaped forward and sliced Ensign Rekto in half. The man then leapt towards Veeray. The last thing Veeray ever saw was the face of a screaming berserker as the blade of pure energy was plunged straight into his heart.

 

"You have done well my young apprentice."

 

The berserker spun to see another Starfleet officer dressed in the uniform of an admiral. Spinning his blade hand charging, he was half way to the new arrival before he recognised him.

 

"Q," he grunted.

 

"Ah, you've learned to talk, how charming! You seem to be advancing rather swiftly up the evolutionary scale."

 

"What is it Q, I'm busy?"

 

Q gave him a reproving glance. "Now, now. Who gave you the ship to play with?"

 

The berserker grunted in reluctant acknowledgement.

 

"Oh dear, you seem to have dropped to Mr Worf's level again."

 

The Berserker didn't care much for word games and merely shot Q a glare of annoyance, causing him to sigh regretfully.

 

"Very well, we'll get straight down to business. I've got another ship for you. Well actually, it's just the crew of one. You should find the captain rather... amusing." With a smile, Q vanished in a flash of light.

 

[Forest]

 

Admiral Jones looked about him in disbelief. One moment he had been aboard 'Fearless', engaging the Imperial flagship and the next, he was here in a foresty glade. Looking round, he could see the entire crew of Fearless gathered behind him. Already , anxious murmurs were starting. Jones turned to his first officer, Commander Jimothy Tones. Upon hearing the name, Admiral Jones had selected him without even reading the report on him and promoted him from yeoman to Commander. With a name like that and personality he had learnt matched Jones' exactly, he was, to Jones, the perfect officer. 3 captains, 2 warp core failures and an exploding plasma conduit disagreed, but Jones outranked them , so their opinions were obviously irrelevant.

 

"Any idea what's going on Jimothy?"

 

"The intense radiation released by the interaction of the charged particle weapons with the gravitons in our shields could have created a temporal anomaly, catapulting us through the space-time continuum to our current location."

 

"Actually, Admiral, it was your firm belief that the weapons could not hurt you that saved you."

 

Both officers turned and said in unison, "Q!"

 

"At your service, mon petite souris."

 

"What do you want Q?"

 

"When have I ever wanted anything? I have always endeavoured to help your struggling culture," said Q, feigning surprise and mild offence. Wisely, Jones did not reply but Tones couldn't help himself.

 

"What about when you turned me into a tribble and put me into that room full of Klingons?" he asked, recalling the incident when he had been briefly stationed on the Enterprise during one of Q's little visits. He was surprised that Q's powers extended to the ability to piece together a furry animal reduced to mono-molecular strands by a dozen angry Klingons and return him to human form. A pity he'd forgotten to return his clothes when he'd deposited him back on the bridge.

 

"You mean like this?" enquired Q, waving his finger. With a flash, Tones vanished and in his place sat in a pink fluffy tribble. "Now that that little problem is disposed of, perhaps we can discuss why I brought you here," Q said to the dumbfounded Jones. Snapping Jones head round to get his attention, Q was rewarded by grimaces from the assembled crew of 'Fearless' as cracking sounds came from Jones and a couple of bones could be seen protruding from his neck. Temporarily forgetting the limits of human anatomy, Q had caused a compound fracture in his neck. Hastily repairing it he was pleased to see he now had Jones' full attention.

 

"Admiral, the Imperial fleet will not win the battle at Earth, but a far greater danger awaits your Federation. I'm going to offer you the chance to save it."

 

"Me?!"

 

"Yes. You'll need a little training first, so let me introduce my friend Sir Graeme of Dice."

 

With that, Q vanished and was replaced by a medieval knight in full armour, mounted on a towering white steed. If not for the metal cylinder in his right hand, he could have stepped out of an Arthurian legend. Jones watched with detached interest as Sir Graeme screamed a savage war cry and twirled the cylinder, igniting a glowing lilac beam. He didn't have time to register surprise before his head hit the ground, sliced clean off and was trampled under hoof. Feeling invigorated by the stench of blood spewing from Jones' still warm body and of vomit from the pallid Starfleet officers, Sir Graeme charged screaming, trampling some and hacking through others. Q repaired in a fountain of blood, shaking his head sadly.

 

"No, no, no, you're supposed to learn how to SURVIVE." Clicking his fingers, he reattached Jones' head to his body and rose a couple of metres into the air to survey the battle.

 

Twirling, Sir Graeme saw that Jones was back at live. Shrugging, he wheeled about and charged again. By now, the surprise of coming back to life was beginning to wear off and Jones was able to leap out of the way of Sir Graeme. In doing so, however, he tripped over a root imbedded in the ground. Scrambling to get up, he heard Sir Graeme dismount and stride towards him. Jones could see a maniacal expression on his face, a blood lust that exceeded even the wildest Klingon warriors. Under his right hand, Jones felt something soft and furry. Picking it up, he hurled it at Sir Graeme. Opening his mouth, Sir Graeme bit down hard, biting right through the unfortunate tribble. Realising that Jones would most likely be next, Q returned the deceased Tones back to his original form. Suddenly finding an entire human leg in his mouth, Sir Graeme fell over and struggled to remove it. In the seconds it took for him to recover, Jones had got up and was now running for the forest. Sir Graeme calmly replaced his lightsabre and unsheathed his massive vinegar coated broadsword. Jones deserved special treatment.

 

Jones was running faster than he believed possible for the human body. Another second and he would be at the trees. With a nose-breaking thud, he hit the boundary of the pocket universe Q had created. He clawed frantically at the space in front of him, only to find that the trees were cruelly placed just out of his reach. Heart beating ever quicker, he turned to see Sir Graeme advancing steadily on him, cutting off his escape. He screamed Q's name over and over, but the distant entity merely looked on, a fascinated expression on his face. Curling up, Jones collapsed on the ground. As Sir Graeme raised the massive sword, his blood pressure peaked at well over 10 times its normal levels. As the 2 metre long blade sliced into him, his head exploded like a burst balloon, spraying blood everywhere. Opening his mouth wide, Sir Graeme drank gratefully before picking up Jones' carcass. Hacking off a leg with his lightsabre, he dropped the remains and headed back to his horse, chewing the leg. There were enough people left to feed him for a few weeks.

Q shook his head again and sighed. Evidently Jones wouldn't do after all. On the plus side, he had been entertaining to watch and Sir Graeme was obviously enjoying himself. Conjuring up a huge bean bag to sit on, Q relaxed as Sir Graeme charged once more into the trapped crewmen. Q felt no qualms about this. They would have been dead anyway. At least now their death would serve a purpose ; entertaining him. Besides, they were only humans.

 

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