STAR TRAKS: THE REDISCOVERED COUNTRY BROKEN ARROW by RPS Disclaimer: For 10 points, who owns Star Trek? Paramount! For another 10 points, who owns Star Traks? Alan Decker! For 30 points and to win the game, who owns The Rediscovered Country? Me! Location: Broken Arrow Farm, Farmer Johns farm, South Carolina Time: 9:47 The ship was a smoking wreck. Crops around it were on fire, but Klang knew he must survive. He climbed out of his ship, and around his saw a large field of crops. Then he heard another ship landing. Suliban. He got up and ran for all he was worth. He found a large circular structure, a mill or storage building of some sort. He got in and pushed the door closed. He could hear the two genetically enhanced Suliban soldiers running behind him. He ran up the stairs, knowing that the door wouldn’t hold up for long. He heard the door clicked. They were in. He found a window and jumped out. By pure chance, outside the window he had jumped out there was a barrel on its side, with a plank on top, like a catapult. Luckily also for Klang there was a box full on grenades on the end of the catapult, so when Klang landed on it, it sent them flying through the window. Klang ran, and jumped when the building behind him exploded. He thought he was safe when a weird humanoid came up to him, shouting something in a weird language. Klang tried to talk back. “Oink oink! Oink!” The man didn’t understand him, so he took a large stick and hit Klang in the head with it. Klang went unconscious, and drifted into an uneasy sleep. Location: Earth International Space Station. Time: 14.43 “You want me to what?” “Look Corn...” “Don’t you Corn me Admiral.” “Look McAllister. It’s an easy mission. You pick up the passenger, take him to Qo’nos and deliver the passenger to the Klingons. Simple.” “Passenger? It isn’t even a passenger. It’s a targ. A klingon pig. The Secondprize is not a luxury cruiser for farmyard pets!” “It’s the Chancellors favourite targ!” “I don’t care if it can sing and dance like Barney the Dinosaur, I’m not a taxi driver!” Admiral Wagner shook his head. “Take this mission or leave the ship. I’m sure we can find another Captain for the Secondprize.” McAllister’s face went white and he hung his head. He knew when he was beaten. “Your passenger is aboard the Australian freighter ‘Mindless Sparrow’, proceed to these co-ordinates to pick it up.” “Okay I’ll do it. But come Halloween I shall have my revenge. I got a box of eggs ready for your office, sir.” McAllister then stormed out of Admiral Wagner’s office before he could reply and headed to docking pylon 5, where the Secondprize was docked at the Earth International Space Station. He went through the airlock and onto Deck 3. Getting into a turbo lift seconds later he was at the bridge. Location: USS Secondprize, NX-02. Time: A few seconds later “Stop sulking.” T’Pal looked up from the science station, where she was helping Ensign Brodeur carry out some tests on the new equipment they got, admonished McAllister and went back to work. “I’m not sulking.” The human Captain went down to the command area and flopped into his chair. “Are we ready to leave?” Ensign Banks at the helm turned to him and answered. “Yes sir. Warp core and fusion reactors are online, docking clamps released.” “Okay. Take us out, 1/4 impulse. When we get free of the station head for these co-ordinates,” he walked over to the console and tapped a few numbers. “And take us there at Warp 3. T’Pal, you have command of the ship (“I do anyway” muttered the Vulcan in return). Mr Hasselfree, you and I are going to do some redecorating to the VIP quarters.” Hasselfree secured his station and walked out behind McAllister. “Oh goody.” Things were not going well in Engineering. “What do you think you’re doing? The Hemfler-Babble flow is all wrong! Fix it now. You, help him. I said push the big red button, not the small pink one! You call that a spanner? Now that is a spanner!” Commander John La Force had just joined the Secondprize as the Chief Engineer. Now he wished he’d stayed at his apartment at Cambridge University. The console next to him beeped. “McAllister to La Force, I need you in the VIP quarters on the double. McAllister out.” And he was gone before La Force could complain. He sighed, grabbed a tool kit and ran out. “Okay Hasselfree, this is the situation.” McAllister stood in the middle of the VIP quarters. “We’ve got a special passenger coming, and we’ve got to make these quarters ready for it.” “Who’s the passenger?” “A targ.” “A what?” Hasselfree was confused. Hadn’t the captain said a passenger? “A targ. A klingon mammal of the porcine family. The Chancellors favourite. So to prepare for it were going to have to move all the expensive furniture to my Quarters and build some stuff for Klang the targ. No questions asked. Okay?” “Aye sir.” Hasselfree was confused, but he moved to the task quickly. A few minutes later Commander La Force ran in. “What is it, I don’t have all the time in the world ya’know!” “Yes, we do know,” McAllister retorted. This mission was definitely not making him one happy bunny. “We need to cover the whole of the floor with soil, or hay or old newspapers or something. For when out passenger needs to go to answer natures call.” La Force humphed. “Can’t the passenger just use a toilet?” “Well, you might not believe this but the passenger is a targ. A klingon pig.” The Chief Engineer just looked at the Captain incredulously. “Next time I just won’t ask. When do you want it done for?” “Next 5 minutes would be good.” “Okay. I’ll be back in a few hours. I’m outta here.” And with that he was gone. Several hours later the room was clear. The new floor was laid out and trees and balls and toys were put in for the Targs amusement. Meanwhile on the bridge people were getting bored. Take my word for it: there ain’t much to do when you’re en route to pick up a targ. Even if it’s the Chancellors favourite. Location: Classified (Suliban Intelligence Level Six) Time: Classified (Suliban Intelligence Level Six) Eilik rushed into the Time Room, brushing off the dust from his funky fabric jumpsuit. He nodded to the attendant who was at the controls, and seconds later the humanoid he only knew of as Future Guy appeared, distorted. “…two eggs, 15 oz of butter, a bit of olive oil and finish with a teaspoon of vanilla flavouring…” Eilik coughed to make himself noticed. Future Guy looked at him. “What, wrong instructions?” The Suliban nodded and the figure of Future Guy was visibly more annoyed through the haze. “Wait a minute, one second…” Future Guy turned and flipped through the pages of a book which had appeared from nowhere. “19th century, Earth, Jade monkey? Curse of the Hellenic Scorpion?” “No Lord, Suliban. Destruction of the United Federation of Planets and all that.” Eilik corrected Future Guy. Knowing what he was doing Future Guy threw the book away out of the futuristic image was able to resume his threatening posture and mysterious attitude. “Yes, yes. There is a possibility, we may start a war between Klingons and Humans. Archer would be killed. Yes.” “Your orders?” “Intercept a ship named the ‘Mindless Sparrow’. There will be an animal on board, a targ.” Future Guy now turned to look more evil and threatening. “Ensure that the Earth ship does not succeed in its mission.” Location: Mindless Sparrow, en route to Spatial Co-ordinates 342,034,077 Time: Mid-Afternoon “Cap, what the hell we meant to do with this thing?” Mackie poked the targ with a stick. “I dunno Brent. Does it drink Fosters?” “Lets find out.” Mackie went to the back of the freighter, collecting a six pack of Foster’s larger. He broke one off for himself, one for the Captain and another for the targ. He opened the can and left it on front of the klingon pig. Klang proceeded to tip the beer into his mouth and guzzled down the can. It dropped it, and burped. Mackie and Brent chuckled with delight. “All we gotta do is teach it to play cricket and we got us a proper Aussie!” Location: USS Secondprize, en route to Spatial Co-ordinates 342,034,077 Time: 21:47 “So how’s the renovation coming along?” T’Pal asked, swirling her wine around in the glass she was holding. “The VIP room? All right I suppose. Pretty basic stuff: all the furniture out, build a pig sty.” Weekly evening meals between the two Captains had become a regular fixture. Both officers had changed out of their uniforms: T’Pal into yet another figure hugging dress with various pieces of cloth missing at strategic places, McAllister into a more informal trousers and light blue shirt. “Just not exactly the kind of mission I imagined we’d be on.” “Don’t worry about it, we’ll get a proper mission soon.” the Vulcan thought, draining her glass and motioning to the Ensign looking over them with the wine bottle. He refilled T’Pal’s glass, emptying the bottle he had and so went off to find another one. The Vulcan had gone through three whole bottles by herself, and was starting to look like it. “Serious question here T’Pal: Vulcans shouldn’t drink, they shouldn’t end up inebriated. Why, I think I’ve seen you drunk more times that most of the crew combined!” “No I haven’t! And anyway, that’s just silly reasoning. You’ve been around too many foreign Vulcans.” “Foreign Vulcans?” McAllister asked. The Ensign turned waiter placed a cup of coffee on front of him, complete with complimentary mint. “Its what I call those who’ve spent lots of time off-planet, loads of contact with other species. Swamped with others illogical attitudes they retreat even further within their own logical moralistic mindsets.” The human Captain must have looked confused at her because she explained further. “They see everyone around them acting crazy so they turn themselves into hypocritical prudes. They seize the moral high ground and stare down from there at every alien around them, although inside them they wish nothing else but to be able to join in.” “But that’s crazy! It isn’t logical!” Blurted out McAllister. “Logical? What do you mean by that? To a 3-month old child it is perfectly logical to want to touch a boiling hot kettle. It is only after they do so the first time and burn themselves that it becomes illogical to do so. What you mean to say is that by normal Vulcan standards it is illogical.” “But aren’t you Vulcans meant to have the same moral standards then?” “Yes, but that would get a bit boring after a while.” T’Pal flashed a quick smile at McAllister before resuming her normal neutral expression. “And anyway, this human stuff is so weak I’d need another couple of bottles to get pissed anyway.” The Vulcan proceeded to stand up before loosing her balance and falling over. McAllister jumped up to help her, but an upraised arm told him not to. “Its OKAY, it’s alright, I got it.” “Listen, it’s a simple game.” Ensign Sophie Halbarad explained to the three other officers seated at the table in the mess hall. “We’re listening.” Fawqin, the ships Nausicaan Doctor replied. To his right sat Leftenant Hasselfree, the ships security offer, and to the Doctors left was Ensign Valerio Brodeur, science officer. “The game is called Monopoly. Everybody gets a bit of money.” Halbarad pointed out the number of paper bills on front of each of the players. “Everyone also has token which they move around the board by rolling dice.” At this she pointed at the four silver figures standing at the ‘Go’ position. As always she had chosen the Iron, Hasselfree the Horse, Brodeur the Wheelbarrow and Fawqin… “My mighty Shoe shall stamp death on all of you!” “Yes Doctor, I’m sure it will.” Hasselfree put his hand on the Nausicaans arm, trying to calm him down. “When you land on a square you can choose to buy that plot of land, and then once you own all the plots of the same colour you can build houses and hotels there.” Fawqin was looking energetic at the prospect of his silver boot killing their respective tokens, so Halbarad decided to simply get on with the game. “You’ll learn as we go along. Mitch, you go first.” Hasselfree rolled the dice. T’Pal exited the Captains Private Dining Room into the mess hall, the room spinning. “Brilliant wine” she muttered to herself. She started heading out of the mess hall (which took an amazing amount of effort), but turned back when she heard a commotion break out at one of the tables. “I will not pay him!” “You’ve got to Doctor, you landed on my hotel!” “Brodeurs right.” Halbarad said, whilst slowly backing away from the table. “You land on the hotel, you pay.” “No! Prepare for death! The Mighty Shoe reigns victorious!” And with this war cry Fawqin launched his silver boot straight at Brodeur, hitting him on the side of his head and nearly knocking him unconscious. Dazed, Brodeur picked up several game-pieces and attempted to retaliate. “Monopoly fight!” Halbarad shouted, taking a fistful of houses and hotels throwing them in random directions. T’Pal was too drunk to be annoyed when the Crown Plaza Hotel hit her full on the head. Location: Spatial Co-ordinates 342,034,077. Time: Several days later Waiting for them at co-ordinates was the old Earth freighter. “Hail the ‘Mindless Sparrow’.” T’Pal commanded in what she thought was her most commanding voice from the Captains chair. “Aye ma’am.” T’Pal turned to the screen. But the face that appeared was not the face of a rugged Australian freighter Captain who she was expecting. “Suliban!” she cried. “Yes! And we have targ-napped Klang! MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” And before the Suliban on the screen could finish his evil laugh they cut the connection, and jumped to Warp 2 attempting to escape the scene of the targnapping. T’Pal was quick to react. “Follow them, maximum speed!” At the helm Ensign Banks pressed several buttons, but instead of going to warp there was a shake as the Warp Engines failed, and then went into reverse. “Captain! We’re going at Warp 4, but we’re going backwards!” “T’Pal to Engineering fix this now.” “Sure, like I haven’t got a million other things to do right now.” La Force’s voice came in over the intercom. In Engineering people were running about senseless. La Force told everyone to stop and gather round him. “Okay people listen up. Game plan. Terry, get a hair pin, some chewing gum and my trusty penknife, and don’t call me MacGyver. Crewman Leon, when I tell you re-align the technobabble matrix. The Captains gonna need some cool lines soon. Lt. Amber, coffee, milk and fifteen sugars, on the double.” On the bridge everything was tense. Banks was able to still barely navigate the ship a bit at these speeds, nudging it left or right, but they still were not able to go forward. By this time McAllister had arrived on the bridge, but T’Pal refused to get out of the Captains chair. The vital rock, paper, scissors game being played out by the rivalling Admirals to decide who was Captain of the ship was at recess following the two participants collapse from exhaustion. However this now seemed to be a mute point with the ship out of control, its kinetics in reverse at unimaginable speeds. Luckily for them Leftenant Hasselfree had an idea. “What would happen if we swung the ship around, with the nacelles first? That way we’ll be going backwards yet forwards.” The security officer had a large smile on his face. He was obviously extremely happy with his plan. McAllister just shrugged and ordered it so. “We don’t have anything to loose, so lets try it. Helm, swing us about, 180 degrees.” The ship turned round gracefully (well not really, they scraped the hull plating off a passing asteroid and flung some nameless Ensign across the bridge), and headed in the opposite direction, now on track to catch the fleeing freighter. After 30 minutes of chasing they managed to catch up with their quarry and their captured Targ. “Hail them.” At communications Ensign Deer nodded, signalling the channel had been opened. “This is Captain T’Pal of the Earth Vessel Secondprize, you are ordered to surrender your vessel or we will blow you the hell up.” At this point Hasselfree aimed the ships weapons at the ‘Mindless Sparrow’. And as if the moment needed more excitement, the intercom sounded. T’Pal gestured for Deer to close the channel, and then pressed a button on the chair. “T’Pal here.” “Engineering, this is La Force. We should start going forward right about now.” “Thank you.” “Captain, they’re getting away!” Hasselfree shouted from his console. “But that’s impossible, that ship can only reach Warp 2, we can go up to Warp 4.5, I don’t understand...” McAllister stepped in. “I do, we’re going forwards now. As we moved the ship round instead of going backwards forwards, we’re going forwards backwards.” The crew stared at him in amazement. “You what?” “Come again?” “Santa Claus isn’t real?” “Excuse me?” “We’re going backwards. We’re facing the wrong way.” “By all the custard creams on Vulcan, he’s right.” T’Pal clinched her fist, annoyed at herself for not having figured it out sooner. “Turn the ship around. This chase is getting boring and I wanna blow something up.” The Secondprize turned around, and in a few minutes it was alongside the freighter once more. Now they were ready to take back their passenger. “Options?” Inquired T’Pal from her command chair. “I suggest we take a shuttle pod over and take back the Targ by force.” Hasselfree was quick to suggest the violent option. “Can’t do that, shuttlepods are sublight only, they’d escape.” McAllister explained. “Then let’s just disable the ship from the outside, a couple torpedoes into the engines and its dead.” T’Pal really wanted to blow something up. “Nope, freighter as fragile as that, we’d blow the whole thing up.” “Your point being?” T’Pal really really wanted to blow something up. La Force, who had come up from Engineering for no good reason, asked, “Can I use the transporter? Pleeeeeeeaasseeeee? I’ve always wanted to transport a living thing. Pleeeeeeeaasseeeee?” McAllister wasn’t happy with this idea. “Are you sure you can do it? And bring the Targ over alive?” “Errr...sure. Why not. I mean, the Mayor of Warsaw spontaneously combusted. Who’d have thought that could of happened?” “You’ve got the go ahead. May the force be with you.” McAllister shot at his Chief Engineer with a grin of his face as he departed. La Force turned around and snarled. “No more Star Wars jokes or I’ll beam you into space. Back to front!” His threats of corporal punishment complete he turned and headed off to the transporter equipment. The crew then went back to their respective stations, with McAllister pushing T’Pal out of the way and gaining the Captains chair. “Are you ready Commander?” “Yes sir.” La Force’s voice came back at them through the intercom on the Captains chair. “Then do it.” In the transporter room La Force pressed a few buttons, pulled a few levers, and when the transport commenced he started praying. Sparkling lines formed, and La Force heard the “weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeenn” sound of the system working. When it finally dematerialised his face went white. He pressed the ‘communications’ button on the equipment desk and shouted. “Transporter room to Sickbay! Medical emergency!” “Captains log, today, 0700 hours. It’s been a weird few days around here. When Dr. Fawqin ran into the Transporter room he found a perfectly healthy Targ and a Chief Engineer that had fainted. We quickly resumed course towards Qo'nos, the Klingon home world, where we dropped off my new friend Klang. Boy I loved that targ. Great at playing fetch too. Pity what happened to him. We went down on a shuttle pod, and delivered the targ to his master in the Great Hall of Warriors. The Chancellor grabbed the targ and threw him in a large fire. He then gave us some knifes and forks. I got part of the leg. Very tasty, although the Klingons got kind of annoyed when I asked for some ketchup. After that he threw us out, said something about irreversibly damaging all relations between our peoples, killing all humans, and didn’t even thank us for bringing his breakfast back to him. Anyway, we’ve now resumed our course.” “Captains log, supplemental. I got to keep all the cool furniture from the VIP quarters. But don’t tell anyone I’ve still got it.”