THE BIGGER THE SMILE THE SHARPER THE KNIFE

"You have to get her off the ship", she yelled. "This ship isn't the adequate environment for a kid to grow up. Believe me, I grew up on a ship like this. It was not a pleasure to me."
Numoshkar shook her head: "But it's an assault they're planning! What if something goes wrong? What if they were forced to shoot their way out? What if Nunk gets his dirty little hands on this? His punishment won't be merciful, you know that. Do you really think we can keep Ardita out of all that mess?"
"Be assured, I will protect Ardita at all costs and by all means. I am a skilled assassin by myself, you know." Onara gently took Numoshkar's hands into hers and whispered: "She won't get hurt, I promise. We all will get into safety, no one will get hurt or left behind. But Tar's plan is our only chance, and I'm willing to take the risk."
"I hope you're right", Numoshkar said. "I really hope you're right."

Nunk was obviously nervous as he walked up and down in the main bar of his casino ship. It was not as big as it could be, but it was the best he could afford - yet. Perhaps things would change if he was able to make a deal with the Ferengi he was waiting for. Sleg, the creditworthy heir of the Sleg-o-Cola cooperation wanted a day, or better a night off for himself and his crew. He was late though, he should have arrived since two hours. Hopefully nothing bad had happened to him and his ship.
"What do you think of this dress? Is that good enough for you?", Leosa asked. She was one of Nunk's favorite Dabo girls, and for a human female she was a really pretty one. He was hoping that Sleg would appreciate her much, because as far as he knew, Sleg graduated at the human Star Fleet Academy and it was rumored he had a hunch for human females in clothes.
"No, it's still too much. Get rid of that cape, and change the color to red", Nunk shouted. "What's the need of all that beauty you have if you don't show it? And hurry, he could arrive any minute now!"

"What's taking so long? You said you could operate this ship with a skeleton crew! Whats the matter?", Sleg asked his first engineer impatiently.
"As I told you before, warp 9.2 is maintainable for 12 hours only. The Miranda class isn't made for high velocity flight, it's a tiny science ship!", the engineer answered.
"Do your best, please. We're already late. Bridge out", Sleg answered. He wished he had hired more mercenaries, or better, he had stolen a bigger ship. But the Miranda he had chosen was the best option so far to reach Nunk and his casino freighter.

Time was running out, if he wanted to see his beloved deltanean female again. Tar N'Schaalon was her name, and they had met during his last vacation on Risa. Two wonderful days together, walking around on the shores, both enjoying the forbidden fruits of their society. They shared sensual experiences of diverse kinds and got lost in long conversations about elegance in female fashion, erotic sensual games and the meaning of life as a sensual revelation, far beyond the celibate ideals of Delteans as well as the monetary frame of mind of the ferengi culture. Sleg spent a small fortune hand over fist without even thinking about profits while sunbathing in completely rain-free beaches. When she finally told him that she was in debt-slavery to a ferengi called Nunk, who just allowed her a few days off while he was waiting for guests to pick up on his casino cruise around the stars, and how awful her life aboard the ship of Nunk was, he promised to get her off the ship and out of the reach of her Ferengi master.

What she didn't know, and what nobody knew so far, he actually did not possess the latinum to buy her out. Sleg-o-Cola, the business Sleg was running, had run totally dry, there were no funds left. It was only a name, the factory wasn't producing any lemonade any longer, as he wasn't able to pay his employees. Sleg wasn't a business man, he never had those 'ears for business' and he really didn't know what to do with his family heritage. His plan to free Tar was nothing more than a good bluff - a bluff which could work if the so-called "Orion Slave Freeing Force" he had aboard would do a good job.

The OSFF was a descendant of the T'Prar Foundation, which freed Orion slave girls in the late 23rd century. It was operated by Deltans, who were immune to the Orion pheromones. Sleg had hoped that the Deltans would try to free one of their own kind, and he was right. The OSFF agreed to help him freeing Tar N'Schaalon and the other slave girls upon Nunks casino-ship free of charge, if he could provide them with a star-ship to get there. Sleg complied to their demands, taking the only ship he could get: the ship he was appointed for his first in-field command after the final exam in his science course at Star Fleet Academy, where he was enlisted studying applied shield harmonics. He knew his career would end with this theft, but his love was worth the risk.

"Daimon Nunk, there is a ship approaching. It is a Starfleet vessel", the voice in the communicator said. Nunk was not a real Daimon, but he insisted to be called that way aboard his ship. He thought it was impressive for his customers, not knowing that most of them didn't know what a Daimon was.
"Get the Nausicaan guards to the airlock, quick. I'll be there in a minute!", he answered. "Leosa, are you ready?"
Leosa took his arm under hers, looking really gorgeous in that expensive red dress made of Tholian silk. Nunk nodded satisfied, and they went to the airlock to wait for the heir of the great Sleg-o-Cola Cooperation.

"Ardita, if anything happens you stay with aunt 'Nara, please. Do you understand?", Numoshkar asked her daughter.
"But what should happen, mum? You said we are just taking a little holiday trip", Ardita replied. Just a few days ago had been her seventh birthday, and her mother promised her they would take a shore-leave trip to celebrate.
"Nothing will happen my dear, but just in case...", said her mum, trying not to look too scared.
"It's because uncle Nunk doesn't want us to go, am I right?", Ardita asked, smart as she was.
"Don't call him uncle, he doesn't belong to our family", Numoshkar answered.
"We have to go now, I think Tar is already waiting. Time to move!", said Onara, as she hid two small daggers in her skirt.

"Are you ready?", Sleg asked the two Gorn mercenaries he hired to support the Deltans. According to their plan, he and the Gorns should provide a distraction at the airlock while the Deltans would beam the slave girls off the ship. Simple, but effective, the only flaw he could find in this plan was himself in the middle of the action. Now would be the time to see, if the Star Fleet Combat Training was worth anything, and if not, he hoped that the Gorns would bail him out. Anyways, the airlock in front of him re-pressurized, and would open soon. Time to become a hero, Sleg thought.

Tar N'Schaalon waited in front of the shuttle-bay doors, with a sleeping Nauiscaan guard beneath her feet. It was not too difficult for her to hypo-spray the guard, as she was the leading nurse on Nunk's ship. Before that she used to be a Dabo girl and also Nunk's favorite female. But that was long ago, before Leosa got on the ship, taking this role from her. Leosa was on the quest to get rich, and she was willing to serve under a Ferengi for a while to reach that goal. Tar was not sorry for the change, as she hated being a Dabo girl as much as she hated being a favorite female for a Ferengi slave master. Never again Oomox with that puny little Ferengi Nunk, that was what she promised to herself every day.

As the airlock doors opened, a big blast of light and fire hit the corridor behind it. Smoke filled the room, and nobody was able to see anything. One of Nunk's Nausicaans guards laid unconsciousness on the floor, while the other was instantly firing with his disruptor into the airlock, not knowing if he was going to hit anybody. Nunk was yelling in a very high uncomfortable pitch, while Leosa tried to get on her feet again. The Gorn had thrown a thermal stun grenade through the airlock, as soon as it opened. Sleg waited behind, hoping everything would turn out the right way, while the Gorns prepared themselves to board the ship.

The three green women headed through the corridor to reach the shuttle-bay. They saw Tar at the end of the corridor waiting, waving with one hand. A Nausicaan lay in front of her on the ground. Suddenly and unexpected a door opened and an almost seven foot tall Nausicaan stepped out.
"What is that...", the Nausicaan wondered, seeing the Deltean female and the shuttle-bay guard lying on the floor right in front of him and the three approaching Orion females on the left. Immediately he wielded his jagged sword, shouting "Now you have Guramba!"
"Run, Moshka, run!", yelled Onara, as she took out one of her daggers. Too fast for the Nausicaan to see she made a handspring while she threw her dagger in the middle of the jump. The knife hit him in the back of his sword-hand causing him to loose his sword that clanked to the floor. Back on her feet Onara took a new run-up to flip again and to slide through between the legs of the surprised Nausicaan. While Numoshkar and Ardita passed the guard, Onara grabbed both his upper legs to swing herself right behind him. With the elegance of a typical Orion dancer she managed to land on his shoulders, and as she twisted her legs a faint cracking noise was the last sound for the Nausicaan to hear. With a broken neck he fell aground.

"Sleg, can you hear me? Please, come in!" Slegs communicator beeped in a very unpleasant situation. The guard in front of him had just stopped the shooting, probably to get a new aim. The smoke was gone and so was the cover for Sleg. Ready to face the entrance of the golden treasury Sleg prepared himself to die. Right in this moment the two Gorn warriors jumped in front of him with a giant leap, thus smashing the guard right onto the wall of the corridor. He groaned as he fell down.
"Hello mister Nunk", Sleg said with new confidence. "I'm Sleg from Sleg-o-Cola, ready to have some fun. Where are the dabo tables?"
"If you think you can get away with that", the Ferengi Nunk answered as he found his voice back, "I assure you there are at least twenty Nausi.."
Nunk wasn't able to finish his sentence. A big Gorn fist had suddenly ended the conversation between the two Ferengis.

"Ah, at last, you've made it", Tar said, "we have to hurry. We have to get into position near the shuttle-bay force-fields, it's the only place where the ships shields are weak enough. They'll beam us out any second now."
Tar, Onara, Numoshkar and Ardita entered the shuttle-bay. So far everything went well, and Numoshkar began to believe that Tar's risky plan might actually work. None of them noticed that the nausicaan guard on the floor was already waking up again.

Slegs communicator beeped again. "Hey Sleg, come in please. We need your help!"
"Sleg here. Whats the matter?"
"Ah, I'm very sorry, sir, but somebody on the ship managed to activate a scrambler. We can't beam them out! You have to deactivate that thing."
"You are kidding, aren't you? I'm here with only two Gorns. How should I do that, hm?"
"Oh, we localized it. The scrambler is on the bridge. There are only three bio-signs there. You can do it."
Before Sleg was able to answer, one of the Gorn handed him a phaser-rifle. "Come on, lets go", he sizzled.

"That's far enough", the Nausicaan guard shouted. He pointed his disruptor right in the direction of the females hiding in one corner of the shuttle-bay.
"One by one, step out and lay down on the floor. I won't repeat this order!", he grunted.
"Do as he said", whispered Onara to the others. "Keep Ardita behind. I'll handle him."
Onara slowly moved out of their cover. She knew exactly how to move to attract the attention of the Nausicaan. He slanted his head a little to the side, not knowing what was happening. Onara started humming with a soft voice as she raised one of her arms. Binding his view with her arm twisting, she delicately fetched her last dagger with the other hand. Ready for her final move she opened the knot of her neck-holder shirt, which fell slowly to the ground. Before the Nausicaan believed what he saw she threw her dagger with a swift move, hitting him right between his eyes.

It ended much faster than it had begun. As soon as the turbo-lift reached the bridge of the casino ship, the two Gorn warriors cleared the bridge. They were moving fast, and nobody on the bridge expected two raging Gorn stepping out of the lift. The three Ferengi weren't able to put up a fight, and so everything was over before Sleg fired one shot with his rifle. He quickly disabled the scrambler and lowered the shields of the ship. "All clear, you can beam them out now. Copy that, please", he shouted in his communicator.
"Ah sir, we have a problem here. We can't get a lock-on. We're working on the problem."
"What do you mean? You said it would be easy. We don't have the whole day, you know."
"You can try to beam them from there. We located a transporter in the shuttle-bay. Perhaps this will work."
Sleg wasn't feeling very well. This plan differed a little from what he had imagined. For a moment he thought he was part of a bad science fiction series of the old 20th century earth. We can't get a lock-on...

Sleg and the Gorns hurried to get to the shuttle-bay. They were intercepted at two instances by guards of the ship, but they managed to slip through, although one of the Gorns suffered a disruptor hit on his left arm, and the other was hit by a knife of a Chalnoth. The plan was slowly getting out of hand. Nobody knew that the casino-ship had a coating which inhibits transporter lock-on's, to prevent anything or anyone to be beamed off the ship. The only way to beam out was the transporter in the shuttle-bay.

Finally Sleg and the Gorns arrived at the shuttle-bay. "Tar, my love, I said I would get you out of here", he welcomed Tar and the others.
"Slegily, oh my, you kept your word", Tar said as they fell into each others arms.
"We've got no time to loose", one of the Gorns mentioned. "Get us out of here!"
"Okay, get in position. I'll activate the auto transport", Sleg said.
Within seconds, everyone was spread about the five transporter panels. The two Gorn took the places to the left and right. Onara pushed Numoshkar and her daughter to the spot in the rear, where Numoshkar held her little daughter tightly pressed to her side. Onara and Tar stood on the forward positions.
"Hurry, darling," Tar exclaimed, signaling Sleg to come over and share her panel.
"I have entered the coordinates but somehow I can't activate the auto-transport-subroutine..." Sleg replied and he felt like everything was running through his fingers like sand. Suddenly he heard a voice behind him: "There is no auto-transport function. You have to operate the transporter by yourself", Nunk said triumphantly.
A shriek of unpleasant surprise escaped Slegs mouth before he jumped over to the transporter panel, securing himself behind the gorn fighter to the right. Nunk had recovered in the meantime, and instead of a woman in a red dress he had several heavily armed guards with him. They were now in a direct stand-off with the two gorn fighters who had their weapons ready to fire on Nunk.
"You're going nowhere," Nunk grinned, "so let's be reasonable. Put your guns down and we won't kill the child."
"No, this will end here", Onara said and before Sleg or anyone else could start to argue, she slid over to the dead nausicaan guard on the ground, took his sword and stepped over to the console.
"No, aunt 'Nara, no", the little Ardita screamed. But it was too late. Onara had already pressed the button.


Please note: Onara, Ardita and Sleg are all Ingame Characters that we play. Nunk and Leosa are from the Star Trek Voyager episode "Inside Man", that we enjoy alot. Hope you had fun reading this 'Tale of Tragedy' !
For an image look here:
The bigger the smile the sharper the knife

"Four ships approuching from port, secondary power relay on deck 2 is gone, we have hull breaches, warp drive is down. Civillian craft is making for the incoming raiders, their weapons are offline, shields seem to be rerouted to only foward arc. Husband they are going to ram them." M'Freya looked from from her mother standing at tactical to the view screen, a ship roughly the size of a bird of prey streaked past them arcing towards the four oncoming raider ships. Pulses of emerald disruptor fire hammered into the ships forward shields. They buckled after a second, cutting swaths into her hull. The civillian defence ship that had looked to be made of a pod with wings branching off in every direction tore through the hull of the first raider. The ships central section erupting in flame before exploading sending her wings and sections of the raiders ship crashing into the other three. Two of them becoming their own blazing balls of fire, the third just drifted lifelessly past the Wotan. There was silence on the bridge before shouting began again, with a section of wall exploding showering the bridge crew in sparks and smoke. The Wotan shaking hard from weapons fire. P'valla shouted from tactical that ventral plating was gone. The last of the raiders ships was looming before them, and old Orion slaver ship. Her hull breached and burning in places.


The hum of transporters started filling the air. J'prurr jumped from the captains chair, an old type 2 phaser in hand. The first of the raiders materialized his weapon moving up to aim. A streak of blue light pierced his chest throwing the alien back. Pivoting on his feet J'prurr fired off two more times crumpling an Orion and wounding another. A beam of scarlet shot over his shoulder hitting a klingon in the chest behind her father. The towering man stumbled, hefting his weapon to swing it down at M'Freya. She closed her eye hearing a muffled grunt and the feeling of something wet hitting her face.


Her eyes opened seeing her fathers body blocking her from the Klingon, his bladed weapon lodged into her fathers chest with one of the piercing ends protruding through his back. The last of his strength was spent pushing the phaser to the Klingons chest, a blue streak ripping from his back and pounding into the bulkhead behind him. Both slumped to the floor. She was frozen there as silence fell for her, turning M'Freya saw rage, blind rage in her mothers eyes. Scarlet beams ripped out into three more raiders one dropping near her without a head. Her mother had disruptor burns on her arm and chest. With the one good uninjured arm she shook M'Freya.


"Helm, man the helm get us away from them." She nodded weakly turning and fumbling over the controls till her eyes locked onto the view screen. "They have a tractor beam on us." Her mothers voice was shallow, fingers moved over controls. The Vulcan womans features fell her face turned towards her daughter. "Save the ship, save who you can.... I love you Daughter." Her mothers fist slammed into the control panel. Turning her head quickly to the screen as streaks of tealish plasma beam ripped into the breached sections of the Orion ships hull. The tractor beam vanished, M'Freyas relfexes moving the ship away with all the power she had left as the other ships began to tear itself apart. She never saw the explosion of the tactical console or her mothers body hitting the bulkhead behind her station. She heard it, and in her mind later formed the image to fit the sound. The young woman turned in her seat looking blankly at the spot where her mother had been standing. A scream started to rip from her throat.


M’Freya woke with a start, another nightmare; the same nightmare. She peered at the console, weary of life and the months of warp travel returning to Earth. The old Oberth class starship S.S. Wotan sailed silently threw the stars, her decks void of life save for the young girl of Caitian and Vulcan heritage, that rested slumped over the helm. The ship rigged for steady autonomous operation for the duration of the trip. The ship was M’Freyas home, the place of her birth and the death of the caitians parents. Both scientists, her mother a Vulcan observer from the federation and her father the owner of the starship a civilian deep space exploration leader.
The Wotan was crewed sparsely; her mission set for twenty years in five year increments based from the federations furthest most colonies in the Beta Quadrant. Over the duration of the mission the crew had become a close knit family everyone contributing to some of M'Freya's upbringing. Assigned to a devoloping deepspace station giving a federation presence in the middle of the Wotan's mission. In the seventeenth year of the mission tragedy befell the ship with an attack from colony raiders. The Wotan joined three other ships to battle the raiders, the older ship giving enough fight to make even the most confident of captains worry. She was joined by two civillian defence ships that had been purchased by the colony from Ferengi merchants.
In the years spanning the mission; the Wotan had received several updates purchased by her captain to better suit the region of space. Her old type six phasers replaced with Xindi made plasma arrays, her torpedo compliment exhausted years prior; now fitted with clusters of missiles purchased from Ferangi traders. She was fighting well, but well could last only so long with the numbers they faced. By the battles end her crew was a third less. M’Freyas parents among those that lost their lives in the fray. The Wotan and other defending starships won the day; though at a high cost of lives.
It was a year before she would be ready to leave for Earth with the aid of her parents Star Fleet contact who sponsered her entrance into the fleet; passing her entrance exam with aid from both the remaining crew and colony who continued to house her and fund repairs to the Wotan for the service it had provided. As the ships owner and now Captain she refused to leave the sector till a Star Fleet replacement vessle arrived. The voyage would be long with the remainder of the ship’s crew departing slowly along the tip till the final member left a few weeks prior to arriving at Earth. The ship was a ghost of her former inviting self, the moments of laughter from the young M’Freya followed by the eventual puzzled scowl of her mother; before her father would chuckle softly from the captain’s chair. Moments like those flashed in her memory, drawing smiles and tears from the young caitian.
The computers voice broke her from the string of memories, her voice filling the void of the bridge.
“Approaching the Terran system.”
M’Freya shifted sitting upright at the helm, her slender fingers moving over the old ships controls dropping her down to warp one. Transferring helm and most other bridge controls to the captain’s chair, she hesitated for a long moment before finally taking the seat. Since the day she lost her family she had gone to great lengths to avoid that chair. Now it was time for her past, her family and the ghost of that day to remain behind her in space. The Wotan was her ship, she was the Captain by all rights and soon she would be an officer in Starfleet. Her hand moved over a set of controls in the chairs armrest a soft chirp from the system acknowledging her.


“Starfleet control this is the S.S. Wotan civilian Science and Exploration vessel. I am requesting permission to dock.” Silence lingered for a moment before a youthful man’s voice came over the com.
“Wotan you are cleared for approach vector 005 civilian docking bay two of Starbase 1… Welcome back.” The channel closed and within the hour the Wotan was safely moored in the massive starbase.
M’Freya departed the ship her single bag of possessions slung over a shoulder, and a second bag of data pads clutched at her side. She stood outside the docking doors for her ship, setting one bag down she patched herself into the ships computer giving the order to power down all systems. Unsure she would be returning to the ship, or if this was goodbye M’Freya looked behind her once before entering the lift leaving the docking bay. The lift shot her quickly stopping as needed for personnel to come and go, eventually she arrived at the cluster of command decks. Navigating the maze of corridors and offices she found Captain Millians office.
Millian was the contact officer assigned to the Wotan, over the years he had befriended her family and over that last year spent a great deal of time working with the young Caitian. He had been waiting to hear word of the ships arrival, waiting to meet M'Freya in person finally. He was on the man that sponsored M’Freya’s entrance into Starfleet, and help the young woman build a new life. She strolled into the office standing still for a long moment before the bemused human stood coming around his desk and embraced the young Caitian.


“My dear, it’s good to finally meet you in person mi girl. I was starting to think something happened along the way here.” Stepping back from her gauging the surprised and then neutral face of M’Freya, resting his hands on the front of his desk.
“And you sir, I just finished docking the Wotan in the lower docking bays, and I have brought you all of her reports, logs, and final mission assessment. I am looking forward to starting fresh on Earth sir.” He studied her for a moment before taking the hefty bag of data pads; he could already see the kind of officer she may become in the future. Weighing things in his mind for a moment before asking, “Have you chosen a course of study and which path you plan to take at the academy?” Her response was quick with no hint of heavy emotion just determination “Command sir no other particular fields of study interest me.” He nodded before retaking his seat behind the desk.
Taking a moment to organize the bag of Data pads before reaching for one he had tucked away at the corner of his desk. Giving a thumb print to it before leaning forward to offer it to M’Freya, her body moving forward enough before reaching out and taking the pad. Her eyes scanning over it before looking up to meet Captain Millians own.


“Thank you sir, I won’t disappoint you.” Her body language was a little more at ease now, with her long tail flicking behind her. Millian watched amused silently, his cheerful voice filling the space between them.
“I am sure you will cadet, Take that pad to the warren officer on deck 10 and she will get you set up right, and as to that personal request from you I have cleared it with the academy. You are going to stand out M’Freya, the only cadet to have captain a starship, and own her own to boot. This may not make you many friends to begin and some false ones if you are not careful. Hold onto that sentimental side of yourself as well, it will serve you well. Dismissed and good luck.” M’Freya gave a crisp “Sir” starting to turn and leave before stopping with her shoulders slumping. She didn't turn to face him fully wanting to keep a stream of tears from being seen. “Thank you Captain, my parents thought highly and you and... and you have been a good friend to me sir. I wont let you down.” She left before a reply could be given.
The hum of the transporter faded away with the last few sparkles of the matter beam, depositing M’Freya in one of the Academies transporter rooms, her uniform clung a little tighter than she thought it would, the Caitian opted to remain barefoot feeling that the issued boots tripped her up a little too much. Her bag slung back over a shoulder now with a holster and an old type II phaser resting in it. Something that had to be argued for, and made as a personal request, the old phaser having been her fathers and the weapon he held when saving her life the day she lost him. She had promised herself to never let it go. Nodding to the transporter operator before leaving the room and finding herself a little lost the adventure awaiting her now just beginning.

Only TWO days remain in the #TalesofTragedy writing contest! Be sure to get your entries in before May 1st, 2017! Good luck to all!

Could I get an invite for Zandor Thuredrith to Lords of Stonewall please?

“Let me speak to him!”
 
Pa’Squal’s opponent brushed off the remark. The two Gorn leant in to each other across subspace. Fiery looks of determination, fuelled by their arsenals, veiled hollowed threats. The rebel commander stood atop the entire Gornar planetary defence; pointed at Pa’Squal’s sole ship. Pa’Squal meanwhile had the entire Klingon fleet less than 6 hours behind him. Pa'Squal's gripped into the arms of his seat. Each of them might be sure of the choices they’d make, but neither was under the delusion they were fully in control of the situation beneath them. The rebel commander's gaze glanced off of screen; perhaps being reminded of his long-range sensor readings, or of the various units acting outside his pleas for restraint.
 
“You are a traitor to your people for supporting the Klingons” the Commander hissed “but even you would not rain fire upon your own home”.
 
“You’re right, I won’t” Pa’Squal conceded. “But the Empire will. They did it before and they’ll do it again. We stand no chance against them. The action you’re taking will kill billions of Gorn and bring us no closer to freedom”.
 
The commander cut the connection. Both knew how the conversation was going to go. They had been arguing for hours as they approached the planet. The commander was certain the situation had changed: while the Klingons were still recovering from the war, they did have sufficient resources to suppress a Gorn rebellion. What they didn’t have was political capital. Their new alliance with the Federation would be strained by any bloodshed on Gornar. They had far more pressing concerns to deal with and wouldn’t risk the Alliance for the sake of holding Gonar.
 
The greatest mistakes in history were made because leaders did not understand their opponent. There were now hundreds of worlds under the rule of the Empire: an empire that was seen to be weakened after the war. This was a test. If the High Council failed to hold Gornar then every occupied world would see an opportunity. The High Council could not flinch.
 
Pa’Squal was their only olive branch; a hero to Gorn, Klingons and the galaxy alike. Then there was another reason, muttered in the hallways before the briefing. His old, close relationship with the rebellion's leader: Stra'tas. Yet where was he and why were the rebel commanders hiding him? He had 6 hours to find out before the fleet arrived.
 
Pa’Squal signalled to his officers to follow him to the transporter room. If he was going to get to the bottom of this, he would have to do it himself. His Ferasan comm officer went through several intercepted recordings that mentioned sightings of Stra'tas on the front line in 4 separate cities along with other references to him being in hiding in the southern swamps. Pa'Squal discounted the swamps; hiding in swamps was not his style. Of the cities: Old Market, Green Bay, East Ridge and Toll Ford, the first was the most likely but it had been destroyed at the start of the uprising. That left Green Bay as the next most likely command point. As he stepped on the transporter pad, his Klingon Security Chief signalled two armed officers to prepare to beam down.
 
"Stand down, Chief" Pa'Squal signalled. "We're here to talk to them, not fight them."
 
"We cannot allow you to enter a warzone without escort, sir" the chief replied.
 
"A handful of security will do nothing to protect me against the entire rebellion. It will only aggravate them; particularly with Klingon officers." There was a concerned look in the chief’s eye, and it wasn't one of concern for Pa’Squal. "I do not doubt your ability Commander, but a civil war is the last thing the Empire needs. Trust me to deal with my own people."
 
"You will take Gorn officers then?" The Chief was pushing it, but it was an acceptable compromise. They were told to leave their weapons, and Klingon insignia, behind. Pa'Squal himself donned a neutral, Gorn styled robe to the accusatory glare of his tactical officer.
 
"We are not here to threaten them," Pa'Squal reminded his officers. "That's the job of the approaching fleet. We are here as neutral representatives to broker a cease fire." Not all were convinced; both the Gorn officers unable to countenance having to fire on their own world, and the Klingons concerned of a possible defection. In his absence, the ship was a tinderbox. He needed an envoy of his own. Pa'Squal signalled to Ferasan comm officer to approach. He removed his own rank insignia and placed on the tunic of the startled Ferasan lieutenant.
 
"Keep things together until I get back, Captain. You know what I mean."
 
The Ferasan nodded, shaking a little. He shook off his surprise and gave a solid salute to his Captain as the transport beam energised.
 
 

 
Year-293 was known on Gornar as the year of two summers. A massive solar flare hit towards the end of the year and increased the global temperature by about 10 degrees. So much sunlight reflected off the twin moons, people found it easier to sleep during the day. Pa'Squal spent most of this time swimming in Green Bay to cool off and lying naked on the gravel beach watching his old class mates riding raptors along the coast. There was one in particular, Stra'tas, who every morning at the same time would be leading a pack of cadets on a circle of the peninsular. His raptor would always be out front, his scales glistening in the sun with only a cadet corps sash around him. As he called out to his fellow cadets, he never looked back and he never looked to the beach where Pa'Squal was lying. Pa'Squal moved himself each morning in the hope of being within his line of sight. Stra'tas was focused and determined, his focus never strayed.
 
A storm came in from the dense swamps to the east, caused by the unseasonable heat. It tore open a lot of the buildings and forced the townsfolk to stay in for the first night in weeks. By the morning it had subsided and most of the townsfolk came out to help with repairs. However the cadets' raptors had left. No doubt to 'inspect' the island, but it was more that Stra'tas had always been a creature of habit. Under the scornful gaze of those repairing the hospital, Pa'Squal headed straight to the beach to catch them as they passed. After a brief swim he found an ideal spot and waited. The shadows of the trees crept along the beach and there was no sign of Stra'tas. He kept his eyes focused on the shadows ticking along with the moments. He began to pace down to the water and back and stretched his neck a little further each time to see down the coast for the approaching pack. He began to make a trail of foot prints down the beach to get a closer look and soon found he had followed the route up across the cliffs to the south east.
 
He wasn't sure at what point the pack joined the coast in their daily circuit but the tracks indicated he was still on their usual route. The damage from the storm here had obliterated much of the railings and most of vegetation. At a sharp turning, his gaze fell upon a recent landslide. The weakened ground had given way and fallen into the sea. Fresh tracks from the opposite direction stopped here. He had trouble getting a grip in the mud towards the edge of the cliff and leaned over with the upmost caution. Below he could see a number of cadets dashed on the rocks below with their raptors. A sole survivor was hanging from a branch by his sash. Just out of reach. But with some vines and a lot of luck, Pa'Squal was going to get Stra’tas back up.
 
 

 
Pa'Squal's party was met by a dozen or so raised disruptors in front of keen eyes and panicked hearts. Someone at the back gave a yell to stand down. A muddy-scaled general made his way through the crowd as they holstered their weapons. He was less than half the size of most of the others yet seemed to have the air itself standing to attention.
 
"Pa'Squal!" the general shrieked as he embraced Pa'Squal. "You've finally joined the fight, old friend? I knew you would. With the hero of the Battle of Earth on our side, nothing can stop us, eh?" The general paused, sensing the hesitation. "Not quite then. You know, old friend, all these men around you were at the Battle of Earth. They were proud to serve under such a fine commander then, and they shall be again. Next time, we shall be under the banner of Gornar!"
 
Pa'Squal tried to temper the general's eagerness as the troops listened on. Pa'Squal believed in a free Gornar. However, a direct assault would be a massacre for them. All his calls for patience and process fell to the same requests for a plan of his own, or at least a road to victory. It was not the Gorn, nor the Klingon, way to negotiate compromises and face-saving concessions. With two warrior races in conflict, there was to be only one ending; unless someone could convince both of them to talk.
 
The general was open to holding fire when the fleet arrived, if the talks would be genuine and mediated. He would recommend that to the rebel command, yet he could not act against the orders of Stra’tas.
 
“I thought Stra’tas would be here, in in Green Bay” Pa’Squal said. “It’s his home town after all, he always said he’d base himself here to protect it”.
 
“You missed him by about a week. He helped us storm the Klingon barracks here just after Old Market was bombed at the start of the rebellion. I didn’t see him myself, I’ve only just got here, but the others did. He led a charge of raptors on the compound. Once it fell he moved up to East Ridge. At least, that’s what I was told.”
 
 

 
“FOR THE KING!”
 
The troops echoed Stra’tas’ rally cry and they charged at the advancing Klingon army. They drained their disruptors dry as Klingon warriors were crushed beneath their clawed feet. The inhibitor network had fallen, but the Gorn had not. The heroes of the 4^th Regiment fought off the Klingon onslaught for 26 hours without rest. When they ran out of disruptors, they tore their enemies limb from limb and faced bat’leth blades with their bare scales. After, they drank Saurian brandy by the barrel.
 
Pa’Squal had joined up to be with Stra’tas after he rescued him from the cliff. A few days after Stra’tas pulled Pa’Squal from a toxic swamp. Each pledged to defend the other and neither entered battle alone. When the Klingon’s invaded, they fought among the stars together, Gornar’s heroic duo destroyed hundreds of Klingon ships but still they kept coming. System by system the Gorn were forced back across their space, to their homeworld. Stra’tas and Pa’Squal made their last stand.
 
East Ridge was a smouldering wreck from the orbital onslaught. They could drop as many bombs as they could muster, but they would never hit Stra’tas and Pa’Squal. They and their troop were invincible. They were loyal to Gornar and the King and would defend him to their dying breath. For the glory of Gornar, they would not contemplate surrender.
 
2 hours later, King Slathis surrendered.
 
 

 
A hail of chaotic disruptor fire struck the landing party outside East Ridge City. Pa’Squal pulled himself behind a rock and called for them to cease fire. They didn’t hear. He checked his disruptor wound. A graze on his arm, nothing serious. Looking out at his officers, one had found cover and the other had a hole in his neck. He checked the timer, 3 hours left.
 
“THIS IS PA’SQUAL OF THE 4^TH REGIMENT! HOLD YOUR FIRE” he screamed.
 
The disruptor fire petered out. A murmur spread, no doubt recognising the name of a long-dead regiment and the stories of the city. Pa’Squal stood and marched on the front gate. A lieutenant gave his apologise for the nervousness of their watch and escorted him and his surviving officer to the district commander.
 
The Commander was positioned at a barricade in the city centre. There were large numbers of Klingon’s stationed in East Ridge and it seemed pockets of resistance persisted even now. From his experience, it was less to do with heroics, as the stories indicated, and more the simple geography of the city’s streets which made it easy to defend and impossible to siege. Pa’Squal asked after Stra’tas.
 
“You and me both, Admiral” she replied. “I’ve been looking for him ever since he passed through. My troops reported him rallying our forces around the south gate as we stormed the outer defences. He’s vanished since but I had reports on the radio from my opposite in Toll Ford that he has a secret command post near his position. You understand of course that he doesn’t want to advertise his position. He paints a bulls-eye on everyone around him. The Klingon’s are desperate to take him out.”
 
After discussing the situation in the city, Pa’Squal offered to mediate a withdrawal of the Klingons. What they were holding onto was strategically worthless to both sides, but the Klingon’s had nowhere to go and were obliged not to surrender. The Commander agreed to let Pa’Squal through the barricade.
 
The Klingons were a rag-tag bunch of low ranking conscripts; no doubt hoping to prove their loyalty and honour by holding an empty warehouse for the empire. Some, he recognised from the Battle of Qo’noS. Pa’Squal sold them the evacuation to his ship as a strategic withdrawal.
 
“There is no honour in dying when your own fleet levels this planet to ash.”
 
One by one they dropped their weapons and marched into the courtyard where his remaining guard arranged their transport up. The Gorn around them stared at each of them until their commander pushed through the crowd to the Klingon’s leader. Standing in front of him, blocking the sun setting in the background, she made him look like a tiny moon circling a gas giant. Pa’Squal braced himself for the worse, but she reached out with greeting. She recognised him from the Battle of Qo'noS. One by one each of their juniors realised the same and they began chatting. Once, they had fought together as brothers. That counts for something.
 
Before they left the warehouse, he questioned the group’s intelligence officer for sightings of Stra’tas.
 
“We’ve been trying to get him since day one” the officer admitted. “The scoundrel is in hiding somewhere, I’m sure. They have a secret bunker they’re commanding everything from.”
 
It wasn’t much help, but Toll Ford was at least known for its bunker network from the original invasion. As he was leaving, the officer shouted back: “When you find him, sir. You’re going to kill him, right?”
 
 

 
“I’ll kill you, traitor!” Stra’tas cursed, throwing Pa’Squal’s belongings out of the door. “You dare show me that devil’s symbol on your arm. After all we’ve been through, all we’ve fought for and you dare sign up with them!”
 
“We can’t keep fighting the wars of yesterday. We lost, and the Klingon’s have shown their honour here. They’re not exploiting our world or enslaving our people. They freed us from the Undine and I want to help that fight. The Borg have been sighted again too. I can’t just stand by and let the Klingon’s fight our battles like that. It’s hypocritical!”
 
“Oh they’ll be happy for you to sign up, yet do you ever think you’ll be accepted as one of them? To be seen as an equal? If we’re to fight let it be as Gorn, on our own terms.” All these years, his focus has never shifted. Pa’Squal admired him for that. But it would get them all killed if it wasn’t done right.
 
“I hope we will again too. But we have to live the life we’ve been given today. Not try to rebuild everything from scratch because it is not our ideal. You’ve become obsessed by this. We used to have a life together.”
 
“The Klingons took it away.”
 
“No. You took it away.”
 
 

 
Their guide from East Ridge, and Pa’Squal’s remaining officer, had been scattered across the road side on the way to Toll Ford, thanks to Stra’tas’ unmarked mine fields. Another had caught Pa’Squal himself but the force had been taken mainly by his raptor. He gathered together the body parts, separated them from those of the raptors, and covered them on the side of the road with a marker.
 
“Not exactly full honours” he said to himself as he placed the last branch. He examined his officer’s PADD. Orders from his tactical officer, relayed from the High Council.
 
When Pa’Squal has led you to Stra’tas, eliminate both.
 
He reached for his communicator to order his tactical officer’s execution. Yet he couldn’t be sure how many were on his side up there. Letting them know their insurance policy has been eliminated could precipitate the conflict. Right now, radio silence was the best option. His goal was still unchanged. Peace and a free Gornar. Only now, he has less than an hour.
 
Toll Ford was now too far away on foot and Pa’Squal had the distinct feeling he was being played with. Everywhere he went all he got was second hand information, guesses and tales. There was one place nobody told him to check however. Old Market. It could still be used as a base, even if it the town was destroyed early on.
 
It took him about half an hour to reach Old Market. It was a shattered ruin. Once, it was a thriving town that had become an early centre of resistance. When protests began there, the Klingon’s bombed it from orbit with the aim of stamping out any notion of rebellion. Instead, the death toll horrified the Gorn and sparked all-out war.
 
Husks of buildings lined the avenues like ashen hands grasping up from the smouldering ground. He hurried through the cinders burning in the low light of the evening for any sign of life as the sun set beneath the distant horizon.
 
He approached the central square. There, hundreds of bodies were scattered amid the rubble that once formed statues of mighty Gorn heroes. The ashes of their protest banners caked the sole of his boots. Pa'Squal checked the timer on his communicator. 1 minute to go. 1 minute until his homeworld was ash on the Empire’s boot.
 
He had placed too much faith in finding one man. Was the war even the real reason he was looking for Stra’tas? His communicator bleeped. His crew wanted to beam him up. The call went unanswered. He screamed out for Stra’tas, a hopeless act of desperation, and collapsed on the steps among assorted corpses. Noticing a flask amid the pile he reached in and spun the cap off. He took a quick shot: Saurian brandy. Good stuff too. He glanced back at the corpse he took it from. It was Stra’tas.
 
Pa'Squal chuckled to himself. The grand leader of the rebellion never saw a day of it. Heroes are never the mortals they are based on. His ship was walling. His chuckle gave way to a scream. He buried his head in his hands as his timer started bleeping. This ship was calling. A thousand new stars appeared in the night sky above him. Streaks of light immediately rose from the forests around him; angels ascending to the stars. His ship was calling. Pa'Squal snapped himself out of his mourning and rose to his feet. He threw the communicator aside and roseraised the bitter-sweet flask to the stars of death above him.
 
"To Stra’tas! To his glorious rebellion!"
 
One by one the angels struck the new stars. Flashes of light filled the night sky like firecrackers. From those remaining, red balls of fire began to descent on the world. On every city. Including Old Market, ruin as it was. Pa'Squal looked to his fallen comrade beside him.
 

"Looks like we'll be together again soon."

Hate to necro a very old thread, but is this still a thing? I made a toon years ago but it was on the free trial so I only got two weeks out of it. It was quite clear that the game would take a very long time to get anywhere with, and since my hardware at the time wasn't really up to par I just stopped playing and basically forgot it exists. Square-Enix sent out email a few days ago saying that the trial time limit has been removed from the game, and I'm running a much better system so I reinstalled and am willing to give it another shot.

I just made a brand-new Arcanist toon named Nel Sajor on the Gilgamesh server, and the game runs great (just like GW2 the graphics put STO to shame, OMG). Once I get through the opening "go kill ten rats" quests, I'm sure I'll be just as lost as I was before. Some fleetie company and n00b tips would be appreciated, if anyone still plays FFXIV. I just want to take a bit of a breather from STO, I'm starting to burn out and I've usually enjoyed the FF series so I want to see what's available.

Love it so much, both the game and the videos i should say.

Here are another couple of options...not sure what's available in Taiwan tho, you'll just have to experiment. I don't think it's behind the Great Firewall, but it's possible. There are also regional considerations like what version/features of (whatever) is available, and so forth.

https://www.tunnelbear.com/

https://www.f-secure.com/en/web/home_global/freedome

Good luck.


PS Here's a handy PCMag review of several options with pro/con for each.

Welcome back Schmigel...

Yes you can use a VPN - which is a Virtual Private Network....   it is a simple piece of software that reroutes your internet to a country of your choice....  the easiest ones to use are ones that come with software that allows you to connect and disconnect whenever you wish and to which country you wish....

There are loads of different VPN providers - some are free but usually the free ones do not offer the fastest servers and are limited to how much you can use.

One of the ones that I have used is cyberghost - they have a free version that you can use to see if it works for you and then you can think about payng for a VPN service....

If you need anymore help let me know...

Good Luck

[No Spoilers] This amuses me 




and so does this from the same guy

I think those speedos will look great on the floor.  I will leave explaining that statement to your imagination.

Hey guys,

I've been away a while and want to come back... however I'm now teaching English in Taiwan, and I discovered (to my shock) that the region is banned!  Is there something I can do like a VPN to get my Arc client updating the game and ready?

I have to confess that I don't know what VPN stands for, I just hear people saying it all the time when they're trying to trick Netflix in to giving them different content.

Help!

Oh I'm havin' them speedos.  Redefines "Boldly go..."

The twitch stream of the event: 
It should start a few seconds before we beam into the PvP map, but in case it doesn't, it starts around 4:58:50 (the total playthrough is about 6 hours long, lol).

I also made some screenshots during the dance party: http://imgur.com/a/FIiMB

Lastly, a big thank you to the fleet captains and admirals hosting the event! It was great and I had a lot of fun! :D

http://www.scifi-meshes.com/forums/attachment.php?attachmentid=113866&d=1483324630

I found this and it made me think of the fleet logo. 

Update for Sunday's events. Due to real life emergencies by a couple of event helpers/organizers, the Lost Admiral Event and Tactical Readiness Livestream have been canceled.

I'll take one scant please, in science blue.

Right and "eh".

aww I didnt know you could submit your own pictures of you modeling the new apparel.. Zander, those Speedos look great on you in the picture they used for that item, I clicked the link several times to have a sneaky peek.

@Voleron ? I tried clicking on the "Nimbus III cat woman exotic dancer work out DVD" where you Cosplayed as the 3 boobed cat lady who danced on the bar in ST:5 and taught us how to erotically dance, to achieve the perfect summer beach body...
 Is it coming soon? are they still formatting it?
Ive pre-ordered it anyway.
Have to say the DVD extras sound fun,
"Daves guide on how to perfectly include the word "Right" after every sentence, inc when giving directions"
&
"10 ways to annoy your online boss to the point in which he ignores you"

Hopefully more things will be added to the store