Star Trek

Separation

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

By: Derek Kestner

 

Based on Star TrekTM created by Gene Roddenberry

            Ships Log, Stardate 54582.5. Log entry made by Science officer, Lieutenant Commander Derek Kestner. We’ve been patrolling the Klingon boarder for almost two weeks, but already it seems like a month. We’re waiting on authorization to pass through Klingon space from both the Federation and the Klingon Space. Our mission is to observe the new species known as the Volshins. Our orders are strict not to pass into their territory, but simply to observe their boarder patrols. End of log entry.

 

             Lieutenant Commander Derek Kestner and Lieutenant Commander Brad Foreman sat in the observation lounge playing 3-D chess. Derek placed his queen in front of Brad’s king and said, “Checkmate.”

            After studying the board for a moment Brad said, “Wait a moment.” He took his bishop and took Derek’s queen. “Checkmate.” Derek quickly looked over the board, and found that his friend was correct, he had beaten him again.

            “All right, you win,” Derek said.

            Brad smiled, but it quickly left his face. “I miss Whitney,” he said.

            “It’s only gonna be six months and we’ll be back together, or at least that’s what Starfleet said,” Derek said.

            “All officers to the bridge,” a voice said from the comm grid.

            Derek and Brad stood, and walked out of the lounge toward the turbolift. The doors opened before them. “Bridge,” Brad instructed. The doors closed. Seconds later they opened on the Bridge. They stepped out; Derek proceeded to his station as Brad staid on the upper level.

            “The message is coming in now, Captain,” Lieutenant Evan Baker said.

            “On screen,” Captain Lisa Little ordered.

            “Aye, ma’am,” Baker said. He pressed a few prompts on his board. The star field switched to the face of Admiral Owens.

            “You have authorization to pass into Klingon Space. You may pass at your will,” Owens said. “You will meet a Klingon D-7 who will escort you to their boarder at coordinates three-five-seven-six-mark-five.”

            “Aye, sir,” Little said.

            “I see that your two new officers are well. Don’t worry gentlemen, you’ll see all your friends in about six months,” Owens said speaking to Brad and Derek.

            “I will miss them when that time comes,” Little said smiling at the two.

            “Well, you have your orders, Owens out.” The screen again was filled with bright stars, all streaking by.

            “Mr. O’Quinn, plot a course of three-five-seven-six-mark-five,” Little ordered.

            “Aye, ma’am,” O’Quinn said. He pressed the necessary prompts on his board then said, “Course plotted.”

            “Engage,” Little ordered, “warp five.” The U.S.S. Churchill turned toward the Klingon Boarder, increasing speed to warp five.

 

            Captain’s Log, Stardate 54582.5. The Bozeman feels empty even though only two people are gone. Two of my best officers are off on the U.S.S. Churchill serving the Federation by observing the new race known as the Volshins. Because of their absence two of my other best officers are down in the dumps. For the next few months I don’t want to push them too hard. It especially pains me to see Whitney the way she is. I just hope that I can help both of them through this the best way I can. End of log entry.

 

            Captain Morgan Bateson sat in the command chair of the U.S.S. Bozeman. Sitting to his right was Commander Gabriel Bush, his first officer, to his left, Lieutenant Ashley Rickman, his counselor. Sitting in front of him was Lieutenant Andy Welch, his helmsman and Ensign Alex Cook at ops taking over for Derek Kestner. Their orders were to proceed to the south end of the Klingon boarder.

            “Captain, the Churchill is preparing to cross the Klingon boarder,” Dennis reported.

            “Send my complements to Captain Little, good luck on her mission and gods speed,” Bateson ordered Wizz Dayton, his comm officer. Next he turned to his tactical officer and asked, “Are we prepared for an attack if the Volshins decide to cross the Klingon boarder here?”

            “We’re ready sir,” Whitney said trying her hardest to keep form crying. Bateson noticed she had been doing a lot of that lately.

            “Very good. Mr. Dennis, report if there is any change,” Bateson ordered.

            “Aye, sir,” Dennis said staring into his sensor screen.

            Bateson prepared for another boring boarder patrol. He figured that the Volshins would not try another attack, but he was wrong.

 

            Derek sat at opps and reported, “Captain, I’m picking up the D-7 on my scanners. It’s 50,000 kilometers away. We should reach it in about fifteen minutes.”

            “Very well. Mr. Baker, contact their captain, tell him that we thank them for escorting us through Klingon space,” Little ordered.

            “Aye ma’am,” Baker said turning to face his control board.

            Little stood, and walked to the upper level of the Bridge where Ensign Brittney Sykes was stationed. “Are we ready for an attack if one of their boarder patrols were to get a little trigger happy?” she asked.

            “Yes ma’am,” Sykes reported. “All weapons are accounted for and shields are ready.”

            “Very good. Little to Wolfe.”

            “Go ahead, Captain,” Lieutenant Commander Kevin Wolfe said.

            “Are the engines ready for battle?” Little asked.

            “Captain, the engines are ready for anything,” Wolfe reported.

            “Good. We may put our engines through the test if we were to encounter any aggressive Volshins. Little out.”

            “Captain, we are now coming up on the D-7,” Derek reported.

            “Slow to one-third impulse,” Little ordered. “Mr. Baker, open hailing frequency’s.”

            “Aye, Captain,” Baker said.

            The viewscreen changed to the Bridge of a Klingon D-7. “Greetings Klingon Commander,” Captain Little said. “I want to thank you for escorting us through Klingon Space.”

            “Thanks is not necessary,” the Klingon said. “Our orders are to take you as far as 50,000 kilometers to the boarder, that’s all.”

            “That will be fine Klingon Commander,” Little said. “Please hail us before you leave our escort,” Little said.

            “Very well. We will hail you before we leave,” the Klingon said.

            “Very well, Little out.” The screen went blank for a second then was replaced by the star field. “Set course for the boarder,” Little ordered.

            “Aye sir,” Derek said. He plotted a course on his board then turned back around. “Course plotted.”

            “Very well, engage,” Little ordered. “Warp five.”

            “Aye, Captain,” O’Quinn said. He pressed a few prompts on his board. Seconds later the hum of the warp engines could be herd throughout the ship. “Warp one…warp two…warp three…warp four…warp five. Speed is warp five, Captain.”

            “Very well,” Little said. “ETA to boarder?”

            “ETA: two hours, thirteen minutes,” Derek reported looking up from his board.

            “Good. I will be in my ready room if you need me. Mr. Kestner, you have the bridge,” Little said.

            A smile spread across Derek’s face. “Aye, Captain.” Derek stood and took the command chair as the Captain walked into the ready room.

 

            Captain Bateson watched the stars assume their round shape as the dropped out of warp. “We have reached the Klingon Boarder,” the ensign at opps reported.

            “Very well. Andy, take us on a parallel course,” Bateson ordered.

            Without saying a word Welch complied with his orders. Bateson looked around at his officers. All of them had a gloomy face. Derek and Brad were well liked among his crew, past and present. He hopped that Starfleet would keep its word and send them back after six months. Still, that was a long time away. Boredom took over the captain’s feelings. Deciding he should go to his ready room to clear his thoughts he stood and said, “Gabe, you have the bridge, I’ll be in my ready room if you need me.”

            “Aye sir,” Bush said standing to take the command chair once the captain left the bridge.

 

            Two hours, thirteen minutes later the Churchill neared the boarder. “Captain to the bridge,” Derek called into the comm. link. Moments later Captain Little walked onto the bridge. “Captain, we have reached the boarder,” Derek said standing.

            “Mr. Baker, hail the D-7,” Little ordered.

            “Aye sir,” Baker said. Seconds later the star field melted away replaced by the Klingon Bridge

“Klingon Commander, I am deeply grateful for your escort,” Little said.

            “Your thanks is noted, Captain,” the Klingon said. “We must now leave. Until we meet again.” Once again the screen was filled with stars.

            “Put us on a parallel course Mr. O’Quinn,” Little ordered.

            “Aye, Captain,” O’Quinn said. He mad the necessary adjustments to his board. They soon were patrolling the boarder at a parallel course.

           

            Days went by, then weeks, finally a month went by with no action. The crew was starting to get bored. It wasn’t very after Derek came aboard that Derek was offered the job of second officer. He gladly took the job. Brad had become very respected in engineering. He was soon given command of a watch and rarely saw the chief engineer.

            It was Derek’s watch on the bridge. He studied the viewscreen before him. The stars shown wonderfully before him. He was lost in his thoughts. He knew that when he was offered back to the Bozeman he would go even though he did like his new captain. An alarm broke his chain of thoughts. As he opened his eyes and saw that the bridge went red.

            “What’s goin’ on?” Derek asked.

            “Captain, two Volshin boarder patrols have broke formation, they’re heading this way,” an ensign at opps reported.

            “Raise shields and arm weapons,” Derek ordered. “Sound battle stations.”

            “Aye sir,” Baker said. The battle station alert was sounded on all decks. Seconds later Captain Little walked onto the bridge.

            “Report,” Little ordered.

            Derek stood and said, “Two Volshin boarder patrols broke formation and are coming this way.”

            “Mr. Baker, call the Bozeman and tell them we require assistance,” Little ordered.

            “Aye ma’am.”

 

            Commander Gabriel Bush sat in the command chair watching the crew work around him. Under Captain Bateson’s orders he kept a closer watch on Lieutenant Gallimore and Lieutenant Rickman. They seemed to be performing at top efficiency. Suddenly Wizz Dayton turned in his chair. “Commander, I’m getting something from the McCoy.”

            “On speakers,” Bush ordered.

            “Bozeman, this is Lieutenant Even Baker of the Churchill, can you hear me Bozeman,” a voice asked over the speakers.

            “This is Commander Gabriel Bush of the Bozeman. We hear you loud and clear Lieutenant,” Bush said.

            “Bozeman, Captain Little ordered me to make contact you. It…that…Volshin…patrols…broke…formation…heading…our…way…please…” the voice was lost.

            “Lieutenant, come in, repeat come in,” Bush called out. He walked up to the second level of the bridge and said, “Wizz get him back.”

            Dayton’s fingers flew over his board. He checked an rechecked his instruments then said, “Jammed, sir.”

            “Captain Bateson to the bridge,” Bush called.

           

            “Captain, they’ll be in range of our weapons in two minutes,” Derek said excitedly.

            “No, Mr. Kestner, we can’t fire on her first. She’s the white,” Little said sitting back in her chair. What she meant was that the Volshin ship was going to have to fire first. The next few minutes were spent in silence. The entire bridge crew was silent as they watched the Volshin ship come closer.

            “Captain, they’re arming their weapons,” Derek said. “Looks like they’re gonna use torpedo’s.” Suddenly four balls of silver light flew from the two ships. They slammed into the Churchill’s shields. The Churchill was flung to port. Derek braced himself and almost fell out of his seat.

            “Ms. Sykes, report,” Little ordered.

            “Weapons seem to be fine,” Sykes said looking at his console. “Shields are at 94 percent but seems to be holding.”

            “Very well,” Little said. The ship was again flung further to port as two more torpedos struck the shields. This time Derek didn’t get a good grip and was flung across his control board onto the floor in front of it.

            Little and O’Quinn rushed to his side. “Are you alright?” Little asked. “You didn’t break anything did you?”

            “I’m alright, don’t worry about it,” Derek said. They helped him onto his feet. He quickly walked around the console and sat back down. He looked over his console quickly and saw there were no problems; everything seemed to be in order.

            “Okay, let’s fire back,” Little said sitting back down. “Mr. O’Quinn, adjust course.”

 

            Captain Bateson stood behind the communications console listening to the message sent by the Churchill only minutes before. He thought a moment then walked down to the command chair. Bush was at his usual place to the right of the captain’s chair. “What do you make of it, sir?” Bush asked.

            “They wouldn’t call us if they didn’t need help,” Bateson said. “Andy, ETA to Churchill?”

            “One week present speed, thirty minutes top speed,” Welch said.

            “Andy, plot course for the Churchill, full speed,” Bateson ordered. “Red alert! Battle stations!”

            All over the ship the crewmembers were running to their battle stations surrounded by the red lights that announced the red alert. “Course plotted, warp nine-point-two,” Welch said.

           

            White smoke was coming out of one of the pipes in the ceiling. Derek held onto his console as another torpedo hit the Churchill. “Shields down to 60 percent,” Sykes reported. “I don’t know how much longer we can hold out.”

            “Where are our strongest shields?” Little asked.

            “Aft, Captain,” Sykes said.

            “Mr. O’Quinn turn us so that our aft shields are facing the Volshins,” Little ordered.

            “Aye, ma’am,” O’Quinn said. He tried as hard as he could to turn the ship. In answer to their move two more torpedo’s struck the hull.

            “Shields down to 57 percent,” Sykes said.

            “Come on people, hold ‘er together.”

 

            “ETA to Churchill?”

            “Thirteen minutes, Captain.”

            “Bateson to Scotty.”

            “Scott here, Captain.”

            “We need more speed.”

            “Sir, she’s runnin’ full already, she’ll fly apart!”

            “Fly ‘er apart then!”

            “Aye, sir.”

           

            “Captain, we have a problem,” Derek said.

            “What’s wrong?” Little asked standing and moving behind Derek.

            “Their shields are stronger than the last time we faced them, they must have found away to make their shields stronger,” Derek told her. Another torpedo struck the ships shields. Little barely had time to grabbed Derek’s chair for support.

            “This is getting a little old, prepare to fire!”

           

            “ETA two minutes, Captain,” Welch said.

            “Prepare to fire when we come out of warp,” Bateson ordered.

            “We have a weapons lock,” Whitney confirmed.

            “Take us outta warp. FIRE!” As the Bozeman decreased speed two torpedos flew toward the Volshin ships. They struck both ships sending both to starboard. “Prepare for a counter attack.”

 

            “Captain, they are now targeting the Bozeman,” Derek said. “We have another problem.”

 

            “Captain, we have a problem,” Michael Dennis announced.

            “What’s wrong Mr. Dennis?” Bateson asked.

            “Sir, they are now targeting us, but there seems to be some sort of energy gathering at the bottom of the ship.”

           

            “What’s the problem Mr. Kestner,” Little asked.

            “There seems to be a lot of energy gathering at the bottom of the Volshin ship,” Derek said.

            Little thought for a moment then shouted, “Target weapons and Fire!” The weapons came alive and shot toward the energy and struck the energy. It exploded followed by the ship. Shouts were herd over the entire bridge. They were silenced when the ship was tossed to port by another torpedo. Sparks started to fly from Derek’s console. Derek walked around to the front of the console and removed the access panel and began inspecting the circuit board.

            “Circuit’s are fried, Captain,” Derek said. “Can somebody hand me some tools?”

 

            “Captain, the Churchill has been hit hard. Our sensors report that their shields are now down to 43 percent,” Dennis reported.

            “Ms. Gallimore, target and fire,” Bateson ordered. Seconds later two phaser blasts and two photon torpedos’ flew toward the Volshin ship and exploded on the hull. Slowly the Volshin ship turned to face the Bozeman.

            “Captain, they are now targeting us,” Dennis said.

 

 

            Derek tried desperately to repair his circuit board but failing. He carefully made some more adjustments to the board then went back to his seat to try again, nothing. Suddenly he spotted a red light glowing at the bottom of the Volshin ship. After a few moments the red light shot toward them at a great velocity. “Brace for impact,” someone yelled.

            Bateson grabbed the armrests of his chair and waited for the impact, but none came. Bateson then looked around; he saw many surprised faces around the bridge. “What happened?” he asked.

            “There seems to be no damage, Captain,” Whitney said, “Although we now have no shields.” Bateson turned and looked at her with a look of pure horror.

 

            “Scanners are now back on-line, Captain,” Derek said. He walked back around to his seat and sat down. After he looked at the screen for a moment he said, “Captain, the Bozeman’s shields are down.”

            Little was silent for a moment a look of shier horror on her face. Finally she said, “Evacuate the bridge, everyone leaves except for me and Mr. Kestner. Someone call Mr. Foreman up here, then, abandon ship.”

            Everyone on the bridge suddenly leapt up and ran toward the turbolifts. Minutes later Brad was standing on the bridge. “Mr. Foreman, take the opps station, Mr. Kestner, take the helm station,” Little ordered. Derek moved over to the helm station while Brad took the opps station. “Mr. Kestner, plot a course for the Volshin starship, then tell me how long until we get there at half impulse.”

            “Aye, Captain,” Derek said. Minutes later Derek reported, “Done, Captain. ETA: ten minutes.”

            “Computer: This is Captain Lisa Little. Activate the self-destruct program. Authorization: Little, One-One-Three-Alpha-Beta.” The computer beeped. Then she looked down at Derek.

            Derek looked up at the ceiling and said, “Computer: This is Lieutenant Commander Derek Kestner. Activate the self-destruct program. Authorization: Kestner, One-Three-Five-Delta-Tango.”

            Brad looked up at the ceiling. “Computer: This is Lieutenant Commander Brad Foreman. Activate the self-destruct program. Authorization: Foreman, Two-One-Seven-Delta-Beta.”

            “Self-destruct program activated. Enter code and time limit for countdown and arm,” the computer said.

            “Code: Zero-One-Five-Six, time,” she looked at Kestner. He said eight minutes, she then said, “Eight minutes.”

            “The ship will self-destruct in eight minutes,” the computer said.

            “Okay, set the auto-pilot,” Little said. Once this was done she said, “Okay, let’s get outta here.” The trio turned and moved toward the turbolift and quickly got inside. Seconds later they walked out of the turbolift. Little started toward the escape pod. Suddenly the ship jolted to starboard.

            “Auto-pilot has been disengaged,” the computer announced.

            Little turned back toward the turbolift, but Derek stopped her. “You go ahead, Brad and I will take care of it.”

            “But this is the last pod,” Little protested.

            “We’ll find out own way out,” Derek said. “Don’t worry. Come on, Brad.” The two turned and walked back toward the turbolift. Once inside Derek said, “Bridge.” Seconds later they stepped out onto the now empty bridge.

            They both took their positions at opps and conn. “All escape pods are away,” Derek announced from opps.

            “How are we doin’ on time?” Brad asked from conn.

            “Five minutes thirty seconds,” Derek said. “I’m plotting course into the computer.” Derek pressed a few prompts on his board. “Course plotted.”

            “Alright, let’s set the auto-pilot and get outta here,” Brad said. “I intend to see Whitney again.” Brad made the necessary adjustments then said, “Okay, that should be enough. Let’s go.”

            They quickly stood and rushed toward the turbolift doors. “So, all the pods are gone, where now?” Brad asked.

            “Shuttle bay,” Derek said. The turbolift quickly brought them to the shuttle bay. They quickly walked out and into the shuttle bay. “Let’s get outta here, we only have three more minutes.”

            They stepped into the shuttle and took their seats. “Beginning power up,” Brad announced. This took two minutes to complete. They were finally ready.

            “One minute left,” Derek said. The shuttle lifted off as the seconds counted down. Brad quickly, but steadily guided them out. As they were reaching the shuttle bay doors the ship began to explode. “When we clear the doors, punch it!” Fire blazed in front of them as the backed out. Finally they were clear. Brad pushed the acceleration prompt.

 

            “Are all of the escape pods off the Churchill?” Bateson asked.

            “All of them, Captain, but I still show life signs on the bridge,” Dennis said.

            “Do you know whose they are?” Bateson asked.

            Dennis shook his head. “Not yet.”

            The next few minutes were spent in silence. Time ticked away as the Churchill inched closer to the Volshin starship. Suddenly the ship exploded taking the Volshin ship with it. “Captain, not to be the bringer of bad news, but, I just found out the life signs were Mr. Kestner’s and Mr. Foreman’s,” Dennis said.

            “Did they get out?” Bateson asked.

            “Sir, the explosion has somehow blocked my sensors, I don’t know,” Dennis said. Bateson turned to look at Whitney. Once again he saw her pretty eyes filling with tears, as was Ashley’s. Bateson turned back around to face the viewscreen. Not those two, please not those two, he thought to himself.

            Suddenly Dennis let out a big whoop. “Captain, I found ‘em, they’re on a steady course of one-three-zero-six-mark-five. They seem to be alright.”

            A smile spread across Bateson’s face. “We shall pick them up before the rest of the Churchill’s crew. Andy, set course: one-three-zero-six-mark-five.”

            “Aye, Captain,” Welch said as his hands flew over his board. “Course laid in.”

            “Go.” Minutes later Derek Kestner and Brad Foreman were standing on the bridge. After Whitney and Ashley had finished hugging them they stood before Bateson. “It’s good to have you back boys.” He shook hands with each of them. Once this was done he said, “Stations, Let’s go pick up the crew of the Churchill.”

 

            The crews of the Bozeman and the Churchill stood in front of the Federation Council. The President of the United Federation of Planets stood and said, “Honorable crews of the U.S.S. Bozeman and U.S.S. Churchill, we are gathered here today to thank you for saving out planet. Without your efforts the Volshins might have destroyed our planet. I personally want to thank you for everything, and to your two Captains who lead you well through this horrible battle. Once again, thank you.”

            When the President had finished his speech the Council was adjourned. As Derek and Brad were passing Captain Little she said, “You two boys are some of the best officers I have ever seen, There is a place for you on my new ship if you want it.”

            Brad quickly said no, but Derek thought for a moment. Might not be so bad, he thought. On her ship I am a higher rank than I am on the Bozeman. After a couple more minutes he said, “No offence, but I’m happy where I’m at. I love the Bozeman and her crew, I could never abandon her.”

            “No offence taken,” Little said. “Well I hope we meet again someday.” After that she walked out of the council chambers.

 

            Two hours later Derek was once again standing on the bridge of the U.S.S. Bozeman. “Stations please,” Bateson said. Once everyone was seated he said, “Take ‘er out.”

 

The

          End