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Forwarded by the ASC-VSO 
Posted: Sun, 01 Feb 2004 19:32:03 GMT  
In: alt.startrek.creative 
From: "Jay P Hailey" JayPHailey@comcast.net 
 

Title: Star Trek: Outwardly Mobile
Author: Jay P Hailey (JayPHailey@hotmail.com)
Series: MISC - TNG OCs
Codes: None
Part: 19/335(?)
Rating:[PG]
Archive: Fine with me, just tell me where.
Disclaimer: Paramount owns all things Star Trek.  I claim Original
Characters and Situations for me.
Webpage HTTP://jayphailey.8m.com

    The Dorians and the Sixians
    By
    Jay P. Hailey
    And
    Dennnis Washburn

    Later that evening we relaxed in our quarters at the palace. Stephanie
scanned with her tricorder and pronounced the room free of bugs.

    "Okay, let's hear it." I said.

    Tillean started. "They have a reasonably advanced science and
technology. They are not up to subspace theory yet, or anything connected
with it. But in some ways they are advanced beyond where Earth was when
Zefram Cochrane invented Earth's warp drive."

    "They are aware that the second planet in the system has been
terraformed, but have discovered no clues about who did the work, despite
seventy years of exploration of the surface."

    "Their social sciences seem more advanced. Their culture seems more
stable and peaceful than any world I've seen outside the Federation."
Tillean was obviously pleased with what she had found so far.

    Stephanie made her report. "I saw no one who posed any threat. They have
lasers and certain types of projectile weaponry evident, perhaps sonic
weapons. No one seemed interested in harming us, or making a threatening
gesture. Their own security is adequate, but not spectacular. It would take
a competent assassin or a crazy to get through."

    McTague said "They seem a friendly bunch, that they are. A little naive,
perhaps. Many of the galactic standard myths or legends in my repertoire
seem new to them. They have an expectation of being able to change jobs and
learn new things as a general thing. They are used to having servants about.
They're happy to meet us, because the Gallowayans have a limited trade
program with them, and refuse to expand it any."

    That made me nervous. Did the Gallowayans know something that I didn't?
Almost certainly. I had no way of knowing what their cost benefit analysis
came up with nor how they weighted it.

    The only thing that we could do was to keep exploring and learn what we
could.

    Towards that end I signaled for room service. A servant came to take our
orders.

    "May I serve you?" He said

    "You know that we're from the ship in orbit, right?" I said.

    "Really?" He said he seemed excited by the prospect. "You're the
aliens?"

    "Yes, I suppose we are. Didn't you know who you'd be the room service
guy for tonight?"

    He seemed perplexed "No, sir. They never tell us things like that."

    "What if we had some strange, alien need to fulfill? What if we needed
some strange substance to survive?"

    He seemed worried "I'm certain that everything you could want or need is
stocked in the Palace tonight sir! If not, then I will go and fetch it from
wherever it may be." He bowed, nearly to the floor.

    "Don't sweat it." I told him, "We came equipped to handle all of our
alien needs."

    McTague had been taking a swig from a flask that I didn't know he had.
He snorted some of the contents of the flask out his nose and had a coughing
fit. I shot him a dirty look.

    The servant seemed nervous.

    "What we need from you is information. What's your name?"

    "Jeoj." He seemed even more nervous.

    I beckoned to my Science Officer. "Tillean, get this in the tricorder
will you?"

    She got her tricorder and began to set up for a game of twenty
questions.

    Stephanie and McTague retired to other rooms in the palatial quarters to
change out of the dress uniforms.

    "How long have you worked here, Jeoj?" I asked.

    "Since I came of age, sir." Jeoj seemed proud of that. I couldn't tell
how old he was.

    "Are you happy here?"

    "Oh, yes sir! This assignment carries much prestige."

    "Where did you go to school?"

    "School, Sir?"

    "Um, where they teach you things?"

    "Oh! They do that in the Creche, Sir."

    "You were raised in a creche'? Why?"

    "Well, I was born there, Sir. Hardly fair to ask someone else to do it."
He laughed at this, apparently attempting to relieve the tension.

    I grinned mildly at him. "And what did they teach you at the creche'?"

    "Oh, all sorts of stuff, if it pleases you, Sir."

    "Please tell me a little about that."

    Jeoj then told us of his time in a schooling program designed to create
a technically apt servant. We prompted him, and he told us of his early
life, happily growing up in some sort of servant class creche.

    "Some sort of class division, evidently." I said to Tillean.

    "Yeah." She said grimly. I remembered that personal freedom and prowess
were prized in her home culture. This must look especially nasty to her.

    "Lieutenant, have you seen any external clues about where the division
lies? Color, markings or something?" I asked her.

    She got the hint. "No, Sir. I have nothing of the kind. The reason for
the division might be contextual."

    "Sir?" Jeoj prompted.

    I turned to him. "Where do you see yourself in ten years, Jeoj?"

    "Sir?" Jeoj was confused.

    "What job would you like to have? Where would you like to be? What sort
of lifestyle might you make for yourself?"

    Jeoj was thunderstruck. The whole concept was new to him. "If I am
fortunate, they will keep me here, Sir. Would you like something else sir? I
have other duties to attend to."

    Plainly he was asking to be dismissed. "Okay. Thank you very much for
you help, Jeoj. Dismissed."

    He bowed to the floor and quickly scurried from the room.

    "Oh, Jeoj?" I said as he was leaving. He turned and bowed to the floor
again. "Which creche was it that you were raised in?"

    "Number thirty-five, sir!" He bowed again and fled.

    "Wonderful," I growled. The last thing I wanted to clutter this whole
situation up with were questions of human rights. It was too late for that
now.

    I took off my dress uniform jacket and hung it up. I grinned ruefully at
the ribbons and decorations. A few of them were authentic medals
commemorating the deeds of my old ship the USS Akagi. The rest were the
equivalent of good conduct medals. Each assignment I had been on had a
specific ribbon of it's own. The purpose was so that people with bland
careers could still cut an impressive figure at diplomatic functions.

    Then I sat down at a terminal in our guest quarters and began to do
research.

    It took a few hours, but I began to notice one thing. The entries on my
terminal had been sanitized. The history of Doria III was interesting. There
had been an earlier age, the Age of the Accountants.

    They started out as floating book keepers, traveling from one warlord's
fortress to the other. There they would audit the books and the warlord
would then know who had paid their taxes, who hadn't and who was skimming
what. Since they were literate and could do the math, occasionally they were
able to usurp power from the warlords.

    In time, a mixing occurred between bloodthirsty warriors and ruthless
mathematicians. They became the ruling class of the Accountants.

    In time, the populace and the planet began to show the wear and tear of
the dictatorships and their rising technology.

    Then the Dorians had a reformation. They called it the Great
Rectification. The Accountants we deposed, a new, more humane system was
imposed and the planet and people rehabilitated.

    I knew that I was reading a whitewash since there were very few mentions
of any atrocities. Massive social upheavals usually have some atrocities
associated with them.

    On Earth it had been the Post-Atomic Horror. On Vulcan the age of Surak
had seen many followers of the philosophy martyred. On Qo'noS, Kahless
defeated all rivals and imposed the Way of the Warrior in a long series of
bloody wars.

    However, the Dorian history spoke of little or none of these.

    It was getting late and my eyes were getting heavy from all the reading,
when alarms went off. Klaxons announced some disaster in the offing. Metal
shutters rolled down over the windows of our quarters.


---
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Date: Wed, 04 Feb 2004 23:40:20 -0500
Subject: [ASC] REP Star Trek: Outwardly Mobile 20/335(?) [PG] TNG-OC (Misc, OCs)
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Forwarded by the ASC-VSO 
Posted: Tue, 03 Feb 2004 18:18:05 GMT  
In: alt.startrek.creative 
From: "Jay P Hailey" JayPHailey@comcast.net 
 

Title: Star Trek: Outwardly Mobile
Author: Jay P Hailey (JayPHailey@hotmail.com)
Series: MISC - TNG OCs
Codes: None
Part: 20/335(?)
Rating:[PG]
Archive: Fine with me, just tell me where.
Disclaimer: Paramount owns all things Star Trek.  I claim Original
Characters and Situations for me.
Webpage HTTP://jayphailey.8m.com

    The Dorians and the Sixians
    By
    Jay P. Hailey
    And
    Dennnis Washburn

    It was getting late and my eyes were getting heavy from all the reading,
when alarms went off. Klaxons announced some disaster in the offing. Metal
shutters rolled down over the windows of our quarters.

    I went and got my comm-badge and jacket out of the wardrobe as Tillean,
Stephanie and McTague came into the main room.

    "Report." I said

    Stephanie said "I don't know what the alert is for, Captain. There are
no signs of any disorder on scans by my tricorder."

    Tillean and McTague were equally in the dark.

    "Well then, let's go find out." I grabbed my phaser and holster and
attached the to my uniform. The other four got their equipment settled and
we left the guest quarters.

    Jeoj was right outside. "I beg forgiveness, Sirs! The Ambassador
requests that you remain in your quarters for the duration of the
emergency." He bowed to the floor and held it there.

    "Very good Jeoj. Where's the Ambassador?" I said.

    "He is in the bunker, Sir!" Jeoj shouted into the carpet.

    "On your feet Jeoj, and take us to him."

    "But, he said..."

    "Noted and logged! Now take us to him!" I barked.

    The servant jumped to his feet and scurried down the corridor. I was
forced to walk briskly to keep up. The three officers followed me.

    Jeoj led us into the bowels of the Palace where thick walls of some sort
of reinforced concrete held a huge door made of metal.

    There was a panel beside the door. Jeoj scurried up and keyed the panel.

    "I beg forgiveness, Sir! The guests request entrance!" Then he bowed to
the floor again and stayed there.

    The door made several strong sounding clunking noises and rolled open on
a motorized track.

    The Ambassador peeked out and said "Dismissed" to Jeoj and then waved us
in.

    The door slid shut and my ears popped. Then several strong sounding
clunks came from the door.

    "You were asked to stay in your quarters, Captain." The Ambassador
sounded irritated.

    "I apologize for the inconvenience, Sir. I need to ascertain the nature
of the emergency and the possible threat to my ship."

    He grunted "I'm certain your ship is in no danger."

    We entered a situation room. It had large view screens covering some of
the walls. Information was displayed everywhere.

    The focus was the Dorian solar system. On several of the situation
monitors I could see a representation of another starship heading into the
Dorian System at warp two.

    I hit my comm-badge. "Hailey to Harrier."

    There was no answer. I hit it again. "Hailey to Harrier!"

    I looked at the Ambassador. He was looking right at me. "The bunker is
shielded. Your signals won't get through."

    "I must reach my ship and warn them. Who is that coming?"

    "It is the Sixians. I cannot let you contact your ship with out some
assurance that you are not in league with them."

    "You have me as a hostage. Do you need something else?"

    He considered it for a moment. "No, that should be sufficient. However,
that requires that if your ship makes a move hostile to us, that I kill
you." He made the threat with matter of fact malice.

    I looked him in the face. He had me cold and he knew it. "I agree."

    He waved to a control panel off on one wall. "That communications system
should be able to reach your ship."

    I went and opened a channel the Harrier "Hailey to Harrier."

    Li'ira's voice came back calm and collected "Captain. It is good to hear
from you. We have been trying to raise you for twenty minutes."

    I shot a look at the Ambassador. We had been in the bunker for less than
five minutes. He shrugged. I guessed it wouldn't have been much of an
official palace without some sort of shielding.

    "We are all right here. Report your condition." I said

    "Queen to Queen's level three." Li'ira said.

    I was confused. It was some sort of three dimensional chess move, but I
didn't know why she would bring it up now, or why it would sound familiar.
"Harrier, I didn't get that last transmission, please say again?"

    "Queen to Queen's level three." Li'ira emphasized.

    "Er..." Why was she?.... It sounded familiar. Had I heard it before?
Where might I have heard it, before? I looked at my officers but they seemed
just as confused as I was.

    Then it hit me. History! "Queen to King's level one." I responded. I
would have to talk with Li'ira about checking codes with me before hand. I
almost hadn't remembered Kirk and Spock using that code on Elba II a hundred
years ago.

    "Thank you Captain! We are in good shape, no change since you left. We
have an intruder on the scope, heading inbound at warp two. Estimate eighty
minutes until contact. We are monitoring an increased state of readiness in
the Dorian Military, and four of their ships have turned and are attempting
to intercept the intruder."

    "Give me a tactical analysis." I said.

    "Working," The line went silent as Li'ira talked to the bridge officers.
"Negative Captain, not enough data on the intruder, but Ensign Zuma guesses
that the Dorians are outclassed. The intruder has warp drive and they
don't."

    "Keep me apprized." I ordered. Then I left the communications console
and approached the Ambassador.

    "Who are the Sixians?" I asked.

    The Ambassador sighed bitterly. "They are pirates and raiders. We don't
know where they come from, or why they decided to come here. When they first
appeared, we thought they might be friends like the Gallowayans or maybe
yourself."

    "But, they weren't." I prompted.

    "They destroyed the ships we sent to meet them. They attacked all three
planets that we inhabit in the system. After looting, pillaging and causing
wanton destruction on all three they discovered that our mining facilities
on the innermost planet refined some sort of rare mineral."

    "Ever since then, a Sixian ship will appear every few months to raid our
mining colony. They don't raid us often enough to stop our production
entirely, but they do cost lives and money every time they appear."

    For half an hour we watched the Sixian ship bear down on the Dorian
system. A patrol boat was in position to intercept them. As the ranges
closed we watched. The impulse powered ships of the Dorians crawled compared
even to the weak warp speed of the Sixian raider. Nevertheless, there was
one closing.

    Then the Dorian ship exploded. There was no reason for it as far as the
sensors of the Dorians could determine, but I could read it in the spectrum
of the explosion. Gamma rays and all other radiation heavily blue shifted. I
guessed a primitive anti-matter torpedo.

    "Can we do anything to help?" I asked.

    "Yes. Teach us of the faster than light drives and weapons that you
possess. With those would could defend ourselves, handily."

    "I'm sorry. I can't do that right now..." It was an awful thing to have
to say. "Maybe my ship can talk to them and find a peaceful solution?"

    He was bitter, but I saw a glimmer of hope. "You are welcome to try."

    I went to the communications system "Hailey to Harrier."

    "Captain, I have been trying to raise you for ten minutes. The intruder
has engaged and destroyed a Dorian patrol boat. They used a warp powered
antimatter missile."

    "Save it." I said "Intercept and hail the intruder. We are offering the
Dorians our protection. Find out what the intruder wants and open
negotiations, if possible. If necessary, stop the intruder. Use of force is
authorized as per regulations."

    Li'ira said "Aye, Sir. Shall we beam you up?"

    "No," I said looking at the Ambassador. He looked back meaningfully. "I
think you've got it in hand."

    "Yes, Captain. Harrier out." Li'ira closed the channel.

    I turned to the Ambassador "Can you upload what you know of the Sixians
to my ship? Anything you know will be helpful."

    The Ambassador said "I will see what I can do." He went off to confer
with his subordinates.

    -*-

    Li'ira said "Hail Dorian space control and request permission to break
orbit."

    Ensign Zuma, now at the tactical station, said "Aye, Sir." A moment
later he said "Permission granted, Commander."

    Li'ira turned to Ensign Spaat, and said "Set course and engage. Go to
warp three as soon as we are clear of Doria III."

    "Aye, Sir." Spaat replied as he programmed the instructions into his
panel.

    As the Harrier began to move, Li'ira said "Time to intercept?"

    "Five minutes, thirty three seconds, Sir." Spaat said.

    "Go to yellow alert and hail the intruder."

    "Aye, sir." Zuma said.

    "Analysis?" Li'ira said to Harksain Varupuchu, the third in command.

    "I have never encountered anything like this." Varupuchu reported from
the science station. He viewed a scan of the intruder.

    "I am running a sensor diagnostic, now. Unless I miss my guess the
intruder roughly matches the technology of the Andorian Colonial Period or
Earth's Romulan War." Varupuchu said.

    "Let me know what else you find out." Li'ira said.

    "Unknown Ship, Unknown Ship, please respond. This is the Federation
starship Harrier. We are on a mission of peaceful contact, please respond."
Zuma said into the communications system.

    Three minutes passed. "Any response?" Li'ira asked.

    "No, Commander." Zuma said

    "Tactical analysis."

    Varupuchu responded "They have primitive missiles and laser systems.
None of this poses any danger to us. I am reading a larger energy cannon of
some sort, but I don't have any clear scans of it, yet."

    "The Intruder Vessel is primitive. I speculate that they can make Warp 3
or 4 at maximum. Their shields are up, but weak. I have already scanned for
shield frequencies and we can now target our phasers against their weak
spots. Their shields should be ineffective."

    "Sir? Excuse me?" Zuma said, stunned.

    "I have already scanned their shield frequencies, Ensign." Varupuchu
said dryly.

    "That should take longer, even for primitive shields, Sir. Are you
positive?" Zuma said.

    Varupuchu shot Zuma a disapproving look. "I am quite positive, Ensign.
Commander, while the Ensign may have been insubordinate, he is correct. I
have rarely seen shields so poorly executed."

    Li'ira said "Really? Good! So what's the analysis?"

    "The Computer estimates that we should be able to destroy them utterly
with no loss of life for the Harrier and a 40% chance of minor damage to the
ship."

    Li'ira grinned. "Lovely. Thank you Mr. Varupuchu."

    "Coming out of warp. Contact in one minute." Spaat reported.

    "Open hailing frequencies." Li'ira said.


---
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ASC Stories Only Forwarding

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Date: Mon, 09 Feb 2004 00:29:21 -0500
Subject: [ASC] REP Star Trek: Outwardly Mobile 18/335(?) [PG] TNG-OC (Misc, OCs)
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Forwarded by the ASC-VSO 
Posted: Sun, 08 Feb 2004 22:54:26 GMT  
In: alt.startrek.creative 
From: Moderator on Duty ascatrekfic@crosswinds.net 
 

Title: Star Trek: Outwardly Mobile
Author: Jay P Hailey (JayPHailey@hotmail.com)
Series: MISC - TNG OCs
Codes: None
Part: 18/335(?)
Rating:[PG]
Archive: Fine with me, just tell me where.
Disclaimer: Paramount owns all things Star Trek.  I claim Original
Characters and Situations for me.
Webpage HTTP://jayphailey.8m.com

    The Dorians and the Sixians
    By
    Jay P. Hailey
    And
    Dennnis Washburn

    We were a month into our journey and the diplomatic reception was going
very well.

    The reception was being held in the hall of an ancient palace. The
ceiling was twenty feet over our heads and I could see intricate paintings
on it. Baroque moldings framed the paintings.

    The walls were similarly decorated with intricate designs and art.

    A historian was talking to me.

    "This was the final palace of the Age of Accountants." He said. It
hardly looked like an accountant's idea of cost effective.

    "Really? Did the Accountants have many palaces?" I said brightly. I'm
sure it was a stupid question, but I was new to Doria III, and stupid
sounding questions were all I had.

    "Oh, yes." The historian said "Before the Great Rectification the
accountants ruled with an iron fist. Opulence among the ruling class was the
norm."

    "Oh, how fascinating." I said. He seemed to need little encouragement. I
understood. History was one of my hobbies, but it was lonely. One rarely met
anyone to talk with who understood the value of the subject.

    A servant came by us. She was dressed in a fancy costume that reminded
me of an Elizabethan Judo practitioner. It was a gi in red and blue silk
like material with lace and filigree adorning it. Leggings and a high collar
completed the effect. She carried a tray of drinks and refreshments. I took
a bland little tofu-like cake and a glass of juice. I had been briefed
before the official reception had started and shown what to eat and drink,
and what to avoid. I did want to stay sober.

    "Thank you." I said as I took the refreshments off her tray. I wished
that I had some local currency to tip her. Alien VIPs and a major diplomatic
reception can't be an easy job.

    She looked at me oddly and continued on her way.

    Maybe the Dorians didn't have the custom of tipping. Although we were
all people, in the broadest possible sense, it didn't mean that we all did
things the same way.

    The Ambassador came over to me and interceded. Maybe he thought he was
protecting me from a horribly boring diatribe from the historian. I didn't
mind being rescued too much.

    "Good evening Captain Hailey!" He said "How are you doing? May I get you
anything?"

    "No, thank you. Sub-Minister Salby was telling me that this was the last
of the palaces of the Accountants."

    "The last and the grandest!" He waved his hands expansively. "We keep it
this way as an exhibit of our past for the edification of our citizens, and
for special diplomatic functions."

    "Did you meet the Gallowayans here?" I asked.

    "Goodness! I helped sign the final version of our trade agreement at
that desk over there." He pointed it out. "They later sent a payment for
half the rent of the hall for the duration of the event!" He seemed vastly
amused at this.

    "The Gallowayans are interesting people." I allowed.

    "What did the Gallowayans say about us?" He asked.

    Two weeks ago we had met the Gallowayans. They were a trading empire in
the area that we found ourselves. Since we were lost and isolated from the
UFP, we approached with caution, and found the Gallowayans to be nice folks.
They viewed the world in a complex set of value assignments and cost benefit
ratios. The results were surprising.

    The Gallowayans were guarding a world near the Dorian system. As it
turned out they had a version of the Prime Directive. They felt that a
premature contact with a primitive world would damage the culture involved.
This, they felt, would reduce the value of later trading relationships
between future generations of the Gallowayans and the natives. The future
carried a heavy value among the Gallowayans.

    We had made an agreement with the specific Gallowayan ship we had
encountered. This amounted to a contract to conduct future contact and
profitable relationships through that ship. Each trading ship of the
Gallowayans was an independent financial entity among their culture. In
return they had told us of what they knew of the space between us and home.

    It wasn't a lot, but it helped.

    The nearest planet with which the Gallowayans traded was in the Dorian
System. I felt that the Gallowayans were trustworthy in their estimate of
the readiness of the Dorians for contact with other races.

    I had gained a new understanding of the old phrase "Any port in a
storm." The starship Harrier was facing a three to five year journey home
through unknown space. I was searching for a friendly place to take a rest,
to catch our breath and to get some parts to fix the ship with. Our arrival
in this area had used up some critical components of the Harrier. We were
using our replacements. I didn't like that. Every trained spaceman likes at
least one backup at hand. I liked three if I could get them.

    So we went to Doria III and found a hearty welcome waiting for us there.
It was almost too good to be true.

    Part of the Dorian enthusiasm I understood. The Gallowayan charts said
that Doria was a source for minerals of all kinds and a market for low-tech
goods. As we entered we scanned no subspace activity. There were no warp
drives or subspace radios. I almost backed out, but they were ready for
visitors.

    There were boundary markers and impulse powered patrol ships to greet
us. Despite the speed of light delay, they seemed most hospitable. The
culmination of this was the diplomatic reception.

    I replied to the Ambassador's question. "They said that you were
friendly, open and a good source for minerals."

    He grinned. The Dorians had fluted nose channels and their foreheads
were segmented and enlarged, in the manner of humanoids with advanced senses
of smell. The effect of a grin on his face was extreme and catchy. The grin
shined through his eyes. I knew why he was the Ambassador. He was hard not
to like.

    "That's the Gallowayans, always on the bottom line right away." He said
merrily. "Tell me more of your United Federation of Planets."

    I knew right away that the Dorians were after warp drives of their own
and higher technology than the Gallowayans were willing to trade to them. I
jollied them along. As allies of the Federation, they would have a remote
control relationship with the UFP. A great deal of the way the Federation
treated them would have to do with my report and the report of my officers.
I didn't want to commit to anything or make any promises that would later
backfire.

    It was a certainty that the Federation would be a long time in sending a
starship out here to double check me.

    I answered all the questions the Ambassador put to me, and explained
things as well as I could. We had downloaded a packet to the Dorians. It was
a collection of public access information about the UFP. It was honest and
truthful as far as it went. It was obviously pro-Federation in its bias. It
didn't talk about embarrassing incidents or things that hadn't worked out in
a simple, cheerful way.

    Some Captains added information from other points of view. Many called
it a sales brochure and joked about the complimentary T-shirts, mugs and
pens to hand out with it.

    The Dorians were still plowing through it, and were formulating
questions as they went. It would take them a while. It had taken hours to
download all the information to them and we strained the limits of their
data storage media doing it.

    So I struggled with explaining the Prime Directive and gave specific
examples of how it had come to be.

    "So the Iotians dress in traditional costumes from Earth? And they mimic
your traditions?" The Ambassador said. He no doubt thought it quaint.

    I thought of the drive by shootings during my visit to the Federation
mission to the planet. "Er, their interpretation is, well, unique."

    "I don't doubt it." The Ambassador agreed. He was good at that.

    I looked for the officers who had accompanied me to the surface of Doria
III. There was Tillean Darvon Ahk, my science officer. She was a Vicharrian
with delicately upswept ears, white hair, purple eyes, and a lot of
enthusiasm for science. She was earnestly waving her hands and making notes
on her tricorder, while talking to the Dorian Minister of Science.

    Stephanie Anderson, the Harrier's chief of Security loitered
coincidentally nearby me and watched everyone who came around me. She was in
state of relaxed readiness. We didn't expect anything to happen, but
Stephanie knew that was when the jaws of a trap might close. This made her
wary. Stephanie didn't fear the threat that she saw and recognized. She
feared the one that she didn't see.

    Seamus McTague had a group around him. The Harrier's Counselor was an
interesting person. He was a large red headed Irishman. He played the
stereotypical Irishman like it was a role invented just for him. He was
waving a drink around and telling a story. I could see him working the
pauses and emphasizing things with his finger. He made lots of eye contact
and sold his story for all it was worth.

    He appeared drunk, but I wasn't sure. He seemed to have been waving a
drink of the same color for some time. His audience found him easy to like.
So did I. His personality was catchy.

    I looked at my watch. It was time. I went to the window and looked up.
Through the glass I could see the sky, and the stars. There were quite a
number of artificial stars in orbit around Doria III. They were space
stations and factories, moved to orbit to shield the carefully managed and
tended ecology of Doria III.

    I was no talent at astrogation, but I had passed the basic course. Right
on schedule, there was a sparkle as the sunlight glinted off the white hull
of a starship. The USS Harrier, passing in standard orbit right over our
heads.

    She looked good. It seemed as though things were going to work out fine.

--
Stephen Ratliff
ASC Stories Only Forwarding

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Forwarded by the ASC-VSO 
Posted: Mon, 09 Feb 2004 06:26:24 GMT  
In: alt.startrek.creative 
From: "Jay P Hailey" JayPHailey@comcast.net 
 

Title: Star Trek: Outwardly Mobile
Author: Jay P Hailey (JayPHailey@hotmail.com)
Series: MISC - TNG OCs
Codes: None
Part: 22/335(?)
Rating:[PG]
Archive: Fine with me, just tell me where.
Disclaimer: Paramount owns all things Star Trek.  I claim Original
Characters and Situations for me.
Webpage HTTP://jayphailey.8m.com

    The Dorians and the Sixians
    By
    Jay P. Hailey
    And
    Dennnis Washburn

    Back on Doria III I reported the basics to the Ambassador.

    "Lovely. Do you think they'll return to get revenge?" He said. I could
see Sixian dreadnoughts dancing in his head. He didn't like the idea.

    "I won't leave you in a lurch." I said I figured that it was my fault
that the Sixians had been antagonized. I wasn't going to leave the Dorians
holding the bag.

    "Thank you." The Ambassador said. "I hope you will tell His Majesty,
when you are presented to him."

    "When is that to be?"

    "Tomorrow evening."

    It's a date," I agreed "Now there's a few things about your planet that
I'd like to see."

    The Ambassador grinned. Doria III was a pretty planet, and he figured
that sight seeing should be easy enough to handle. He wasn't grinning after
I told him what I wanted to see.

    -*-

    Creche number thirty-five was a huge, low sprawl of a complex. It looked
like a huge school to me. There was a huge field where children ran and
played. They ranged from groups about two and a half feet tall to ones the
size of adults. Adult Dorians were scattered among them, supervising. There
were several hundred individuals at Creche number thirty-five.

    We pulled up in the official motorcade. I had argued the necessity, but
the Ambassador had insisted. He had also insisted on coming with us.

    As we got out of the motorcade, whistles sounded among the adults of
Creche number thirty-five. As soon as they heard the whistle, the children
and many of the adults bowed to the ground and held it. Even the two foot
toddlers were made to bow, although their form was rather haphazard.

    I caught Tillean's eyes. She was scanning the crowd with slitted eyes,
and the blood drained from her face.

    Stephanie and McTague looked stunned.

    One of the adults who remained standing came over to us and warmly
greeted the Ambassador.

    "Ambassador! To what do we owe the pleasure?" He asked brightly,
oblivious to several hundred people with their faces in the dirt.

    "Well, our honored guests wanted to take a tour of your facility, and
review the excellent work you do here." The Ambassador dropped compliments
wholesale.

    "Well then," The man turned to us "I am Headmaster Gringle, welcome to
Creche' number thirty-five." He stepped forward to shake our hands.

    I shook his hand and made the right noises by rote. McTague followed my
cue and was polite although he sounded hoarse. Stephanie caught his eye, and
was very serious. Tillean refused to touch him, stepping away with her eyes
still locked on all the prostrate children.

    He turned around and shouted to another standing adult "I think that's
sufficient, sound the release!"

    The whistles and bells made another signal and everyone got up and moved
away slowly, back into their own cliques and business. The two footers all
watched us with big eyes.

    We were whisked through a tour of Creche number thirty-five, courtesy of
Headmaster Gringle, the genial, affable slave master.

    The Creche was clean and modern, like a friendly boarding school. The
teaching equipment was all in excellent condition, and modern. We watched a
group of adolescents going through a shop class, training to fix cars and
machines by rote.

    There was no writing or reading anywhere. The Students were taught using
computer terminals that had color-coding. The Students answered question
with colors. They asked none of their own.

    There was nothing but a momentary snapshot of time. There was no
yesterday, there was no tomorrow. We watched a soap opera that featured
happy servants and their lives and loves. They never questioned their status
or the orders of the ruling class.

    -*-

    We got back into the motorcade. Soon we were settled and the motorcade
started off on its return trip to the Diplomatic Palace. As soon as we were
moving, Tillean put her head in her lap and cried, disconsolately.

    Nobody looked too happy, even the Ambassador.

    "Okay, now tell me the truth." I said to him.

    "We have told you the truth, as far as it goes." He said. I got a chill.

    "The fact is that the social system imposed during the Great
Rectification was based on slavery. Not slavery of one man by another, but a
cleaner style where slaves are a resource belonging to the people as a
whole. The state is charged with assuring their well being and that they
serve appropriately."

    "It began during the time of the Accountants. They had huge armies of
slaves. Hundred of thousands were worked to death or tortured, or killed for
the amusement of the Accountants."

    "During the Great Rectification, A genius arose, named Nam. He lead the
slaves to freedom and then established our current system."

    Tillean looked up. "You're advanced enough now not to need slaves. Why
do you still keep them?"

    "The adjustment to a non-slave economy would be too wrenching. The whole
system has evolved around this basic facet. We would have to change
everything, all at once. It would be too difficult. Besides, what would all
the slaves do with themselves once they were freed?"

    "How do you decide who is a slave and who isn't?" I asked "What's the
criteria, there?"

    "Well, the current servant class are the survivors of the old ruling
class."

    "And the old lower classes?"

    "We live a freer life style, with education provided by the state. There
many jobs for administrators, scientists, Law Enforcement, Military Officers
and so on."

    "But the Servant class?"

    "They are assigned by their aptitudes, when possible. We try to make
sure they lack for nothing."

    "What happens when a member of the slave class grows dissatisfied?" I
asked "What happens when they resist?"

    "Once dissatisfaction sets in there is no hope for the individual. He
will never be happy with his lot again. In order to keep this malaise from
spreading, from infecting others, the dissatisfied individual is quickly,
quietly and painlessly eliminated."

    "Because of the questions you asked of Jeoj, He became dissatisfied, and
I had to have him put down, last night."

    I thought that I was going to puke. Tillean waited a few moments and
then did so.

    "Our system has worked and provided an adequate standard of living for
hundreds of years." The Ambassador seemed to be getting annoyed. "Say what
you will, it works."

    "Our way is sufficient for us." All of his geniality was gone. "And
according to your Prime Directive that should be enough for you."

    -*-

    That night I spent aboard the Harrier. So did Tillean, McTague and
Stephanie. I think they slept. I didn't. I had a rough decision to make.

    I studied the scans of the Sixian ship. It was an ugly thing. I was
surprised that anyone had voluntarily built and flown it.

    It would do the trick to splatter the more competent, yet less advanced
designs of the Dorians, wouldn't it?

    I hadn't gotten my idea number three yet, and now I doubted that I
would. My choice was down to giving the Dorians technology or letting them
get splattered.

    I thought of The Ambassador, Jeoj, and Headmaster Gringle, and made up
my mind.

    Then I thought of Salby the historian, the serving woman who looked at
me funny for saying thank you, and all the little two footers and their big
eyes and unmade it again.

    The Sixian ship spun on the monitor in front of me.


---
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--
Stephen Ratliff
ASC Stories Only Forwarding

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Forwarded by the ASC-VSO 
Posted: Mon, 09 Feb 2004 06:26:42 GMT  
In: alt.startrek.creative 
From: "Jay P Hailey" JayPHailey@comcast.net 
 

Title: Star Trek: Outwardly Mobile
Author: Jay P Hailey (JayPHailey@hotmail.com)
Series: MISC - TNG OCs
Codes: None
Part: 21/335(?)
Rating:[PG]
Archive: Fine with me, just tell me where.
Disclaimer: Paramount owns all things Star Trek.  I claim Original
Characters and Situations for me.
Webpage HTTP://jayphailey.8m.com

    The Dorians and the Sixians: Episode 21
    By
    Jay P. Hailey
    And
    Dennnis Washburn

    On the signal from Ensign Zuma she said "This is the Starship Harrier.
We seek friendly contact. Please respond."

    A face appeared on the view screen. Blocky, yet humanoid. He had a heavy
forehead and a lantern jaw. His eyebrows rode on top of ridges of bone, and
his teeth appeared too large for his jaw. He looked like an old stereotype
of a cave man.

    "Ooga blungle meengle wok!" He said. A moment later the universal
translator achieved lock on and repeated the statement. "This system is
ours! Leave or I kill you!"

    "I'm sorry, I can't do that." Li'ira sounded reasonable. "May be there's
a way to settle this without all the killing?"

    "I show you killing if you don't leave!"

    "Are you certain that you don't want to discuss this?"

    "Yes! What I want is the riches of this system for me and the Sixians!
What I want is to see you running or dead! I will do whatever I need to do
to get what I want!" The Sixian cut the channel.

    "The Sixian has changed course to intercept, Commander." Varupuchu said
"Contact in thirty seconds."

    "Raise shields. Go to red alert." Li'ira said. The red alert klaxons
signaled the Harrier to battle readiness.

    "On screen." Li'ira said. The image of the Sixian raider appeared. It
was an ugly starship. Through the gaps in its shields, the Harrier could
scan every deck and nearly every individual on the ship.

    The Sixian raider was made out of slabs. The intermix chamber hung off
the back of the ship, open to space for cooling and to give the radiation it
gave off somewhere else to go. The forward edge of the hull was an armored
ram. Laser turrets and missile tubes jutted this way and that.

    "I am surprised that it can make warp speed at all." Varupuchu said.

    Graphics detailed the long trail of hot radioactive plasma the ship left
behind. All starships leave plasma in their wake. It's a side effect of the
engines. This ship was leaving it's own engine plasma. It was using only a
portion of what it generated for power and heaving the rest overboard.

    "The intruder is now within weapons range for long range fire." Zuma
said

    "Hold your fire, Ensign Zuma." Li'ira said.

    "Missiles arming commander." Varupuchu could see the antimatter travel
across the ship to the missile pods, on his sensors.

    "Jam their sensors, Mr. Varupuchu." Li'ira ordered. Varupuchu made the
proper adjustments and then hit a button.

    "Their sensors are jammed, Commander." He reported.

    The Sixian fired his missiles. They left the tube and streaked off in
random directions. Most of them locked onto the Dorian sun, but two locked
onto other missiles. There was a merry chase, ending when one of the
missiles caught its target missile and detonated with enough force to
eliminate the whole salvo.

    The Sixian ship kept closing.

    "Evasive" Li'ira ordered

    Spaat threw the Harrier into a complicated loop to evade the Sixian
ship. He need not have bothered. The Sixian ship kept bearing down on the
position where the Harrier had been.

    "Bring us along side." Li'ira ordered.

    "Drop sensor jamming and hail them." Li'ira said.

    The cave man appeared again "What!?" He demanded.

    "We have been hit by laser fire, Commander. No damage, no weakening of
our shields." Zuma reported.

    Li'ira nodded and turned to the Sixian. "Your weapons can not harm us.
Our weapons are superior. Are you sure you don't want to discuss it?" Li'ira
asked

    "Save us all time and drop dead!" The Sixian howled and cut the channel.

    "Nice guys," Li'ira said.

    "They have increased power to laser cannons. They are overheating now.
One of them has exploded." Zuma reported.

    "The intruder is coming about." Varupuchu warned. "They are charging
their cannon."

    "Evasive." Li'ira said.

    Spaat again threw the Harrier into a spin designed to fool fire
prediction computers.

    "They have fired." Zuma reported "It was some kind of phaser cannon.
Very primitive. It would have struck us like one of our phaser banks set on
twenty percent power."

    Li'ira said "Could that have penetrated our shields?"

    "No, Commander."

    "They are recharging. Estimate another shot in five minutes" Varupuchu
said.

    "Bring us up on their tail. Arm phasers. ready for a broad focus firing
pattern. I want to damage their shields more than their ship."

    The Harrier came about and smoothly glided up to the rear of the Sixian
ship. The Sixian ship began to thrust violently from one side to the other
in an attempt to lose the Harrier. It was unsuccessful.

    "Phasers ready, Commander." Zuma said

    "Fire." Li'ira said

    The phasers of the Harrier lashed out against the Sixian shields. There
was a fireworks display as the phasers played all over the facing side of
the Sixians ship. The Sixian ship shuddered and stopped flinging itself from
side to side, suddenly.

    "They are coming about." Spaat reported.

    "They are firing lasers at overload levels. No damage." Zuma said

    "They are about ready to fire their phaser cannon again." Varupuchu
added.

    "Tactical, tune phasers for best effect against the Sixian shields.
Target weapons, including that phaser cannon, and fire to disable them."
Li'ira said

    "Aye, Commander." Zuma made the adjustments quickly.

    The Sixian ship fired its phaser cannon, also overloading the amount of
energy put into it.

    The Harrier bucked and rocked slightly. "We've been hit. Our forward
shield has been slightly weakened. No other damage." Varupuchu said.

    "Phasers ready, Commander." Zuma said

    "Fire."

    The phasers of the Harrier, tied to the sensors and the computers fired
a rapid set of pulses. All over the Sixian ship tubes and turrets began to
explode. The phasers of the Harrier went through the shields of the Sixian
ship as though they did not exist. The Sixian ship lurched and tried to
dodge the incoming fire, but it was far too late. One more burst tunneled
into the hull of the Sixian ship and chewed into the phaser cannon. Soon the
cannon was out of action.

    The Sixian ship had been totally disarmed.

    "Hail them again." Li'ira said.

    The cave man came back on the screen.

    "Now we're going to talk." Li'ira said

    "Talk while you still can, Dorian! Now that we have found an enemy worth
our mettle, the whole might of the Sixian Empire will descend upon you! No
matter how many terror ships you now have, our dreadnoughts will defeat
them! Our fire will rain down from your skies! Your oceans will run pink
with your blood! Our deaths will be avenged! No Dorian shall survive!" The
Sixian was shouting and spittle flew from his mouth.

    "Who said anything about killing you?" Li'ira said mildly.

    "What!?" The Sixian seemed to enjoy shouting.

    "We want you to leave the Dorians in peace." Li'ira said patiently.

    "Err..." the Sixian got a sneaky look on his face "Okay!"

    "I'm sorry?" Li'ira couldn't believe her eyes.

    "We won't shoot any more Dorians! None at all! Can we leave now?!" The
Sixian was trying his best to look innocent and failing miserably.

    "If you promise not to hurt anyone, you may leave." Li'ira said. The
bridge crew of the Harrier exchanged incredulous looks as, in the
background, a male Sixian voice began to guffaw.

    "Oh, we won't! We promise!" The lead Sixian said, while other Sixians
struggled to keep their laughter silent in the background.

    "Okay. Off you go, then." Li'ira waved vaguely out of the Doria system.

    "Eternal Peace!" The grinning Sixian shouted on the screen. The laughter
was louder now. "Eternal friendship between us and the Dorians!" He cut off
the channel as the laughter broke loose.

    The Harrier escorted the Sixian Raider for a short distance. Then the
raider went to Warp three and was out of the Dorian System in less than two
hours.

    The Harrier returned to orbit around Doria III and Li'ira made her
report.

    -*-

    I watched the report back aboard the Harrier, in the briefing room.

    "Uh oh." Was my first comment.

    "What I'll be wanting to know is how a bunch of sixth graders got ahold
of starships." McTague said.

    "Well, here's my dilemma. We can either stay here and be the Dorian
defense force, or we can violate the Prime Directive and give the Dorians
enough technology to even up the gap." I said.

    Li'ira said "What your preference?"

    "Number three." I said.

    "Number three?" Tillean said.

    "Number three is the brilliant idea that we come up with to settle the
problem without doing either of the first two things."


---
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Subject: [ASC] REP Star Trek: Outwardly Mobile 23/335(?) [PG] TNG-OC (Misc, OCs)
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Forwarded by the ASC-VSO 
Posted: Tue, 10 Feb 2004 19:54:07 GMT  
In: alt.startrek.creative 
From: "Jay P Hailey" JayPHailey@comcast.net 
 

Title: Star Trek: Outwardly Mobile
Author: Jay P Hailey (JayPHailey@hotmail.com)
Series: MISC - TNG OCs
Codes: None
Part: 23/335(?)
Rating:[PG]
Archive: Fine with me, just tell me where.
Disclaimer: Paramount owns all things Star Trek.  I claim Original
Characters and Situations for me.
Webpage HTTP://jayphailey.8m.com

    The Dorians and the Sixians: Episode 23
    By
    Jay P. Hailey
    And
    Dennnis Washburn

    "Your Highness, Nam the Fourteenth, the duly elected King of Doria, may
I present the crew of the Starship Harrier, from the distant United
Federation of Planets."

    There were four of us again, but Harksain Varupuchu had replaced
Tillean. Tillean had refused to set foot on the planet again, and I didn't
blame her.

    "Presenting the Captain of the Harrier and the Representative
Extraordinary for the United Federation of Planets, Jay Patrick Hailey."

    I stepped forward and came to attention in front of the King. Except
that he ruled over a pleasant hell, he seemed like someone's grandfather. He
seemed totally out of place on the throne. Starfleet Protocol says here that
you "Make an appropriate gesture of greetings/respect". Most Captains borrow
the Japanese bow. I was about to bow when the implications occurred to me. I
stopped and went with the next thing in my mind, the Marine salute. I held
my arm straight out to the side of my body and brought the hand back at
sharp angle until the fingers of my straight hand barely touched my eyebrow.
I held it for three beats and the King nodded pleasantly. I brought my hand
down and stepped aside, as per the protocol instructions from the
Ambassador.

    Stephanie used my salute, but McTague and Varupuchu instead used the
Vulcan greeting, hand up palm out, Fingers spread in the characteristic "V"
shape. They bid the King to "Live Long and Prosper" and he smiled pleasantly
at them and nodded.

    Later we milled about making strained small talk.

    "It's only a matter of time, you know." Salby said.

    I jumped and turned to face him. "A matter of time until what?" I said.
It was hard to get enthusiasm up about anything.

    He nodded to the servant woman passing out drinks and refreshments. It
was the same one from the diplomatic reception two nights ago.

    "Until she and her brothers kill us all and stick our heads on pikes in
front of these palaces." He grinned merrily.

    I looked carefully at him. He didn't seem mad on the surface. "That
doesn't seem like any fun."

    He said "Oh I have no doubt it will be a very unpleasant experience, but
it's inevitable. I know. It's all in the history."

    I sighed "It doesn't have to be that way."

    "Oh, I know that, too. I thought that this might be the case, until I
read the information about your Federation. Now I know."

    "So now what?"

    "Oh, nothing. One man can't make changes that big, even he was the King.
Now I know. If I tell two people, then two people will know. If they tell
two people and so on, everyone would know in a short amount of time. The
problem is that most of these people don't want to know."

    He turned and squinted around the reception.

    "Come with me. There's someone I'd like you to meet." He grabbed my arm
and started to drag me off.

    I caught Stephanie's eye just as she was about to take the elderly
historian down. I waved her off. I wanted to see who else knew these things
now.

    We left the diplomatic party through a generic service door. We wandered
a short distance down some perfectly prosaic corridors until we came to an
office.

    It was a fairly large office. I imagined that a member of the ruling
class sat there and made heavy decisions about how much of what gourmet food
to lay in for the guests of the palace. Then the servants left to fetch it
and carry it in.

    To my utter surprise Nam the Fourteenth came in and began to hang his
rainments up in a utility closet.

    "Good evening, Salby. Have you been haranguing the Captain with your
tales of doom and gloom?" He said.

    I came to attention and put my juice quickly down on the desk.

    "Oh, knock it off." Nam the Fourteenth said tiredly, "Save it for the
rubes."

    "Nam, have you read those parts of the Federations' packet I outlined?"
Salby said excitedly.

    "Who's had the time? I bet they confirmed your views, though."

    "Yes, indeedy!" Salby cackled.

    "I had a chance to scan them briefly." He turned to me. "Now tell the
truth, these weren't the whole story, were they?"

    "Well, no, things aren't always as cut and dried as the examples they
choose for that piece."

    "Hee hee! I thought so!" Salby cackled again.

    "Then we'll take it with a grain of salt, won't we?" The King came up to
me and squinted in my face.

    "Does that redness around your eyes mean what I think it does?" He
asked.

    "What's that?" I responded.

    "You've had a long night." He said.

    "Yes, yes I have."

    "Quite a pickle you've arranged for yourself!" Salby said. "You pledge
yourself to protect people you can't stand."

    Nam shook his head "Now you can't stay, and you can't go."

    I sat down heavily on the sofa in the king's office. "So now what do I
do?"

    "Well first, you download accurate accounts of your Federation to us!"
Salby jumped in.

    Nam shot Salby an amused look and then explained "The accurate
information about the histories of the worlds in your Federation may help us
convince a certain number of people that our system is not the only
successful social structure. Once the knowledge that there is another way to
do things becomes more wide spread, maybe the desire to change things will,
too."

    "Secondly," Nam said "My intelligence service speculates that the
Sixians may have a base not too far from our system. We can roughly measure
their speed and they can't get to any nearby stars in the time they take
between raids."

    "If you make a little stop by that base..." Nam led

    "And impress 'em with your diplomatic prowess!" Salby hooted.

    "Then the brunt of their anger might follow you, and not us." Nam
finished.

    "Yes, Sir." I took the suggestion.

    -*-

    We signed a completely bland treaty with the Dorian Ambassador. He
needed it to cover his ass with the Dorian people. We had a very public
signing. Then the crew of the Harrier got a layover in a nature preserve. I
didn't know how long it was going to be before we got to see real sky, walk
on real dirt, or breathe real air again.

    We camped out at least three hundred miles from the nearest Dorian
natives, and, over all, it was a fun camping trip.

    Tillean didn't go. She never again set foot on Doria III.

    I went down on the last afternoon and made of point of walking barefoot
in the nearby stream. It was cold!

    Most of the rest of these three days I spent compiling more honest
information for Salby, and Nam, so they could know for certain.

    I also salved my conscience for bringing down the wrath of the Sixians
by sending them the complete scan data of the Sixian raider.

    This amounted to a complete blueprint for the ship. It would take them a
while to be able to duplicate it, and longer to develop a more sane design,
but it was better than leaving them totally uncovered.

    I rationalized that they would only have to shoot down and recover the
wreckage of five or six Sixian ships in order to puzzle out most of this
information.

    Never mind that it was unlikely to recover even one intact. It was a
wonder that they maintained antimatter containment as a usual thing, let
alone in battle. I could not find a hint of an ejection system for the
antimatter storage pod. Lose containment and there goes the ship, and
probably everyone on it.

    The simple fact is that I gave them technology that they wouldn't have
otherwise. A clear violation of the Prime Directive.

    I did it by myself. There was only a skeleton crew on board the Harrier.
I used my command codes to over ride the communications system and uploaded
the information manually, from isolinear chips.

    I felt as thought any Sixian counter attacks would be my fault, and I
had to try to make it better.


---
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Subject: [ASC] REP Star Trek: Outwardly Mobile 24/335(?) [PG] TNG-OC (Misc, OCs)
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Forwarded by the ASC-VSO 
Posted: Sun, 15 Feb 2004 22:25:33 GMT  
In: alt.startrek.creative 
From: "Jay P Hailey" JayPHailey@comcast.net 
 

Title: Star Trek: Outwardly Mobile
Author: Jay P Hailey (JayPHailey@hotmail.com)
Series: MISC - TNG OCs
Codes: None
Part: 24/335(?)
Rating:[PG]
Archive: Fine with me, just tell me where.
Disclaimer: Paramount owns all things Star Trek.  I claim Original
Characters and Situations for me.
Webpage HTTP://jayphailey.8m.com

    The Dorians and the Sixians
    By
    Jay P. Hailey
    And
    Dennnis Washburn

    We had passed the Sixian raider a short distance outside the Dorian
system. He was only making warp three and at that rate it would take him
weeks or months to make it anywhere. Our long range sensors were orders of
magnitude better than his, so we were able to shadow him and record his
precise heading.

    At warp six we made it to the Sixian starbase that afternoon. It was
less than a light year from the Dorian system. Varupuchu was livid at having
missed it.

    The Sixians weren't mentioned in any of the information we had gotten
from the Gallowayans, so I suppose we had taken for granted that there was
nothing there that they didn't know of.

    We trundled right up to the Sixian starbase, and hailed it as bold as
brass.

    There were five large starships docked to the starbase they were bigger
and heavier than the Harrier, but they were simply bigger versions of the
small raider ship that we had defeated earlier. They were frightening on a
whole different level.

    -*-

    "I am Captain Hailey, commanding the Federation starship Harrier. We are
on a peaceful mission of exploration. We wish friendly contact. Will you
speak with us?"

    The cave man like Sixian on the screen was, evidently the starbase
commander, since he was older, going gray, and had numerous scars.

    It took him a while to sort out what I had said. Varupuchu and Spaat
poured over the sensors, gathering data about the Sixians.

    "Uh.... Sure! We be friends!" He grinned broadly showing all the teeth
he had left. "Surrender now, and we be good friends."

    "Ah, no, we really wouldn't like that." I said "Maybe we could just talk
like this for a while, until we learn more about each other."

    "No, Really! It be okay! C'mon over." His grin was greedy and feral.

    "Where is your Home world?" I asked. I caught Stephanie waving at me.
She stayed out of pickup range while signaling that the Sixians were manning
their dreadnoughts.

    "We not tell you! You not attack us!"

    "No, no no!" I had to fight to keep the grin off my face "We not attack
you, we just want to be friends."

    "Err. Come to me and I tell you!" Said the base commander.

    "No" I grinned. I couldn't help it the Sixians were worse than the
Pakleds. Keeping a straight face was just too hard for me. "I not go to
you."

    The base commanders' face screwed up in a scowl. It took him two and
half beats to get it. "YOU MAKE FUN OF US!!" He bellowed, and his rage was
terrible to behold. He looked truly dangerous. But he was stuck with a group
of crappy, death trap starships.

    I whooped. I couldn't help it. Laughing, I gasped "No, really..." But
there was no stopping him now

    "I KILL YOU!!" The Base Commander raged "I EAT YOU HEART!!"

    Stephanie mercifully cut contact at that point.

    Wiping tears from eyes, I said "Status of the Sixian ships?"

    Varupuchu's tone was brittle as he said "There are four operational
starship in that cluster. The fifth is not complete, and won't be for some
weeks. They are now powering up as quickly as possible."

    "I wonder why?" I said rhetorically. "Helm, One quarter impulse along
heading 270 mark 15, engage."

    The Harrier began to crawl away from the Sixian starbase.

    "Captain, I have encrypted messages from the Sixian base, they aren't
aimed us, but to objects out of our current sensor range." Tillean reported.

    Reinforcements? Probably.

    "The Sixian ships are moving. Target three is clearing the base. Targets
one and two are now clear. Ahem."

    I looked to see Varupuchu blinking rapidly. His face seemed a little
bluer.

    "Target four is out of action, as well as the starbase." He said.

    "Really?" I encouraged.

    "Target four crashed into the base and has sustained significant hull
damage. The base itself is moderately damaged, and they won't be using that
bay for quite some time." He took a breath and regained his composure.

    The Harrier was forced to go to half impulse to stay ahead of the Sixian
dreadnoughts. They boosted on raw drive plasma, spewed out behind them like
rocket exhaust. They were quite serious about getting the Harrier too,
because they cranked up the temperature of their drive plasma too high and
irradiated themselves doing it.

    Two of the Sixians prepared to go to warp. I bet that they would try a
short warp burst to get ahead of us, and then go sublight to cut us off and
engage us.

    I took the Harrier to warp one as they were about to engage their warp
drives.

    The speed was a slow crawl. I doubted that we had actually flown the
Harrier for any great amount of time at warp one until that point.

    Soon all three dreadnoughts were making warp two and were about to get
within range to launch their warp speed antimatter missiles at us.

    I took us to warp two. The Sixians held warp two and then went to warp
three.

    Just as we went to warp three to keep the chase going, we sighted two
new Sixian dreadnoughts on a heading to cut us off. It would have taken a
couple of hours for the formation to form up.

    I ordered the Harrier to warp three point five. It was an odd number and
a strain on our engines, but not too bad, and I wanted to see what the
Sixians would do.

    The four Sixian dreadnoughts behind us tried to match our speed. They
varied up and down between warp three point two to warp three point seven.
They simply could not hold a steady speed.

    Varupuchu called me over to his station. "Captain, I think you should
see this." I went and looked. I have never seen warp fields doing that
before, and Ghod willing, I will not again.

    The warp fields of the Sixian ships were writhing like love sick
amoebas. Their warp fields were not too hot to start out with, but they were
on the verge of starting a wormhole, or imploding their ships. Their engine
nacelles were glowing with visible light, they were so overheated.

    It looked as though we were moments away from baiting them into an
accident. The antimatter detonation, if one of those nightmare ships lost
containment, could damage the Harrier, even if all their intentional efforts
could not.

    "Go to warp six, please Ensign Spaat." I ordered in as calm a voice as I
could muster.

    The Harrier leapt ahead of the Sixian pursuers and soon left their
sensor ranges.

    None of the Sixians ships actually detonated, but they all lost warp
capability soon after we left.

    -*-

    Later Spaat and Varupuchu came to an interesting conclusion. Using the
excellent scans of individual Sixians they were able to gather, they
concluded that the Sixians were an artificial race. Their explanation
sounded good as far as I could follow it. Tillean and Dr. Flynn
independently confirmed their results later.

    The Sixians were an artifact of an advanced and callous race. Had they
been abandoned to rise back to star flight on their own? It would take
someone other than me to figure it out.

    -*-

    After wards we set course for that last planet on the Gallowayan trade
route towards home. It was called Gerard's World.
-*-


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