Forward: Was digging through some really old CDRs I had kicking around in a box and found my old PBM from the early days of the CIC... 1997/98 PBeM... if any of you guys who collaborated on this are still kicking around, I'd love to finish the story with you... it'd be interesting to see how our writing styles have changed and/or matured.
This story branch starts shortly after Chapter 2 of the main TAF story
Here's a groovy story thaty I FINALLY wrote. Here we go.....
===========================
= TAF: The Search; Part 1 =
= By Drew "Burst" Mann =
===========================
===================
= Captain's Cabin =
= TCS Kinshasa =
===================
Captain Linda Rondoh inserted the small wafer into her private
computer, and watched the message flash onto the screen: "CLASS AAA
INFORMATION, FOR CAPTAIN LINDA HUBERT'S EYES ONLY. COMPROMISING CLASS
AAA INFORMATION IS A CAPITAL WARTIME OFFENSE, WARRENTING EXECUTION"
Linda's eyes widened, in shock. She had (until now) no clue of what
was on this disk. All she knew is that Admiral Richards had handed it
to her at the end of the Jutland's debreifing, with instructions not
to let anyone else see it. She could now see why. Keying the screen
to go on, she suddenly saw Admiral Richard's face appear and begin:
"Ah, Captain Hubert. I'm sorry I couldn't deliver this briefing in
person, but I have many pressing duties to take care of. Since we
can't exchange pleasantries, I'll get straight to the point. Your
ship has been selected for a covert ops mission. "As you know, the
Jutland just returned from a disastrous engagement with a Kilrathi
battle fleet in the Eltanin 7 system. We have very good reason to
believe that the cats are protecting something or someone that they
really don't want us to get our hands on. We need you
to find out what that something is.
"By 1400 today, a team of eight covert ops code breakers will be
coming aboard your ship, carrying with them our most advanced short
range cracking equipment, which I can't go into detail about for
security reasons. Let's just say, these people are the best. "When
they finish loading, you'll be heading out, with the TCS Hercules, (a
fueler,) and a detachment of four Broadswords. " As he explained the
ships the Kinshasa would escort, the screen changed to a sector map
with icons representing the two capital ships and the Broadswords
superimposed over the fleet's current system.
"You'll be heading a round about course through three systems,
systems were you won't run
into any kitties, finally hitting a previously uncharted jump point
into the D'tark 3 system, where the kitty fleet is holing up. This is
were the fueler will turn back, and you'll go in with the
Broadswords."
The icons moved along the sector map, finally hitting the bright red
dot of the
D'tark 3 system. The screen then changed to a close up view of the
system, showing the suspected position of the battle fleet and a large
asteroid field.
"Two Broadswords will jump in single file, with you right after them.
Then, the other
two 'swords will jump in. They well get in as close formation with you
as possible. Of course, your ship will also be equipped with some
heavy duty jamming systems, that will keep the kitties from getting
any readings on individual ships. All that will show up on their
screens is a large area of fuzz in your current position. But the
thing has a short range, and eats power like you wouldn't believe.
"You'll be heading straight for the 'roids, at max speed. If you run
into any resistance, the Broadswords will take them out before they
can report exactly what's in the system. It will be tricky, because
the Broadswords will have to stay within the jamming threshold. "Once
you hit the 'roids, your ship will head straight in, and go passive.
Three Broadswords will peel off, and make a hasty retreat. 1 will
dock with you, as a little added muscle which you will need to get
out of the system. Hopefully, the Kilrathi will just think it was a
failed torpedo run on their carriers or a heavily armed scout
mission. You'll stay passive in the asteroid field for three days, a
week at the most. If the covert people haven't completed their
mission by then, you'll pull out and come home. If you have any
questions, the covert people have had much fuller briefings, and your
ship's computer is now being uploaded with more technical details.
Good luck, I trust we'll see you soon." Linda looked at the screen
blankly, in shock. To make sure this wasn't a nightmare, she played
the message back again. Oh yes, it was real. She reclined in her
chair, looking at the ceiling of her spartanly furnished cabin,
trying to gather her thoughts. Taking a quick glance at her wall
clock, she saw it read 1235. The covert ops guys would be there in an
hour and a half. Sighing, she walked over to a small cabinet set in
the wall. Extracting a bottle, she quickly poured herself a glass of
bourbon. She needed it.
===============
= Shuttle J45 =
===============
Commander Bert Jenkins sat in the cramped seating area of the D-3
class hauler, or "octapig" as most people refered to it. The name was
correct, the hauler looked a whole lot like a pig with 8 legs. The 8
legs were for additional storage space. But the D-3 wasn't designed
for style, it was for hauling equipment. And boy, did he have a lot
of it. He was in command of the Confederation's top code cracking
team, the self-named "Cyphers." a non-creative name for a group of
non-creative people. That was a must on this job,
you had to be able to interact with machines. People skills, artistry,
and creativity were secondary issues.
His team had been together for five long years, and had helped to
crack three Kilrathi fleet codes wide open. They were tightly knit,
partly because they sometimes worked side by side for fourteen hours
straight, and partly because there were only three of them: Jenkins,
Lt. Commander Lauren Bussjuball, and Lt. Jane Joos. Bussjuball was as
plain and mousy as they come. Nothing at all distinguished her from
any other girl you might see at a bar, but she was a great cracker
and completely tireless. Bert had read over her fitness report, which
showed she needed only four hours of sleep a night, due to something
out of whack in her metabolism. Joos was strikingly beautiful, with
an infinete depth to her eyes. Many would wonder why she was doing
such un-glamorous work, while she could be a model or an actor with a
snap of her fingers. But that wouldn't satisfy her, she was the rare
combination of beauty and brains. But Jenkins had no such thoughts
about her, he was a calm, detached professional. He'd been with
Confed all his adult life, and if there was one thing he'd learned,
it was never to get involved with ANYBODY with a war on. A beep
sounded, signaling the docking was about to take place. The "octapig"
slowly moved up alongside the TCS Kinshasa, extending a small arm
into the frigate's port side airlock. It cut all speed, the arm
pulling it towards the airlock, until the two ships were side by
side, their air locks perfectly lined up. Bert looked over at the
airlock entrance, and saw the lights cycle from red to green, the
pressure equalized. Motioning for his companions to follow him, he
picked up a small packet and a Confed issue duffel bag, and strode to
the airlock and keyed it open. He suddenly found himself face to face
with the imposing figure of Captain Linda Rondoh. He quickly turned
and saluted the ship's colors, painted on the wall. With that, he
turned and faced the Captain again, saluting and stating: "Permission
to come aboard, sir." Rondoh dryly replied: "Permission granted."
Rondoh was indeed an imposing figure. At 6 foot 5, she had to duck to
get through most of the ship's corridors. She had salt and pepper
hair, and steel gray eyes which looked as if they could cut a hole
straight through durasteel. Her face had numerous burn scars about
it, which (as Bert had read) were aquired when she had been caught in
the destruction of the Formidable, an Exeter class destroyer, ten
years ago. The Captain just stared at Bert for a moment, and he found
himself tightly clutching the small packet he held in his left hand.
Suddenly remembering his duty, he thrust the packet forward and said:
"Admiral's orders." Rondoh read over the orders quickly, and her
heart fell. They required the transfer of six enlisted men and one
officer off of the ship, to make room for quarters and storage space
the covert people needed. The reason this upset her was one of the
enlisted men was their cook, Mandara Sull. She could make the most
spectacular Vegan meals anybody had ever tasted. A note said the
reason Mandara was transfered off was they needed the galley space
for equipment. This meant nobody would be able to cook, they would
have to live on the hideous dehydrated standard rations.
"They'll be carried out." Linda said simply, and then, "When
will your loadout be complete?"
"About four hours, faster if you can spare some crew members for
hauling." Jenkins replied. "I've got a few that can be spared.
Anything else?" Rondoh said, with a bit of an edge to her tone. Bert
gulped. "No sir." "All right then, I'll be on the bridge." said
Rondoh, as she abrubtly walked off in the opposite direction. Bert
exchanged meaningful glances with his companions, and set about his
work.
========================
= Bridge, TCS Kinshasa =
= Four Hours Later =
========================
Linda felt a surge of pride as she surveyed her bridge crew. They all
efficiently went about their tasks, not a single one of them green.
She hated breaking in green crew members, especially going into a
combat situation. One "beginner's folly" could cost her entire crew
their lives. "How long 'till we get underway?" Linda bellowed to the
young tech. Linda made it a point to always talk loudly on the
bridge, it kept the crew on their toes. "Engines at 89%, estimating 2
minutes sir." the tech replied. Linda nodded and sat in her command
chair, reflecting on the current situation. The transfered crew
members had left without protest on the hauler that brought the
covert people over. She had delegated a few crew members who were
competent enough to handle sensitive equipment to haul the code
cracking gear on board. By now, about a third of the ship was taken
over by arcane gadgetry that did god-knows-what. But that didn't seem
to effect the crew, and so far there hadn't been any wild rumors
about the mission they were undertaking. "Engines at full sir." the
tech announced. "Signal the Hercules to set course for jump point
37-B3. Set us the same course, engines at full, let's go." "Aye,
Captain." The mighty frigate sped away at a good clip, suddenly
disapearing in a purplish vortex. They were on their way.
Comments, criticism, pipe bombs, first born children welcome.
-Drew
This story branch starts shortly after Chapter 2 of the main TAF story
Here's a groovy story thaty I FINALLY wrote. Here we go.....
===========================
= TAF: The Search; Part 1 =
= By Drew "Burst" Mann =
===========================
===================
= Captain's Cabin =
= TCS Kinshasa =
===================
Captain Linda Rondoh inserted the small wafer into her private
computer, and watched the message flash onto the screen: "CLASS AAA
INFORMATION, FOR CAPTAIN LINDA HUBERT'S EYES ONLY. COMPROMISING CLASS
AAA INFORMATION IS A CAPITAL WARTIME OFFENSE, WARRENTING EXECUTION"
Linda's eyes widened, in shock. She had (until now) no clue of what
was on this disk. All she knew is that Admiral Richards had handed it
to her at the end of the Jutland's debreifing, with instructions not
to let anyone else see it. She could now see why. Keying the screen
to go on, she suddenly saw Admiral Richard's face appear and begin:
"Ah, Captain Hubert. I'm sorry I couldn't deliver this briefing in
person, but I have many pressing duties to take care of. Since we
can't exchange pleasantries, I'll get straight to the point. Your
ship has been selected for a covert ops mission. "As you know, the
Jutland just returned from a disastrous engagement with a Kilrathi
battle fleet in the Eltanin 7 system. We have very good reason to
believe that the cats are protecting something or someone that they
really don't want us to get our hands on. We need you
to find out what that something is.
"By 1400 today, a team of eight covert ops code breakers will be
coming aboard your ship, carrying with them our most advanced short
range cracking equipment, which I can't go into detail about for
security reasons. Let's just say, these people are the best. "When
they finish loading, you'll be heading out, with the TCS Hercules, (a
fueler,) and a detachment of four Broadswords. " As he explained the
ships the Kinshasa would escort, the screen changed to a sector map
with icons representing the two capital ships and the Broadswords
superimposed over the fleet's current system.
"You'll be heading a round about course through three systems,
systems were you won't run
into any kitties, finally hitting a previously uncharted jump point
into the D'tark 3 system, where the kitty fleet is holing up. This is
were the fueler will turn back, and you'll go in with the
Broadswords."
The icons moved along the sector map, finally hitting the bright red
dot of the
D'tark 3 system. The screen then changed to a close up view of the
system, showing the suspected position of the battle fleet and a large
asteroid field.
"Two Broadswords will jump in single file, with you right after them.
Then, the other
two 'swords will jump in. They well get in as close formation with you
as possible. Of course, your ship will also be equipped with some
heavy duty jamming systems, that will keep the kitties from getting
any readings on individual ships. All that will show up on their
screens is a large area of fuzz in your current position. But the
thing has a short range, and eats power like you wouldn't believe.
"You'll be heading straight for the 'roids, at max speed. If you run
into any resistance, the Broadswords will take them out before they
can report exactly what's in the system. It will be tricky, because
the Broadswords will have to stay within the jamming threshold. "Once
you hit the 'roids, your ship will head straight in, and go passive.
Three Broadswords will peel off, and make a hasty retreat. 1 will
dock with you, as a little added muscle which you will need to get
out of the system. Hopefully, the Kilrathi will just think it was a
failed torpedo run on their carriers or a heavily armed scout
mission. You'll stay passive in the asteroid field for three days, a
week at the most. If the covert people haven't completed their
mission by then, you'll pull out and come home. If you have any
questions, the covert people have had much fuller briefings, and your
ship's computer is now being uploaded with more technical details.
Good luck, I trust we'll see you soon." Linda looked at the screen
blankly, in shock. To make sure this wasn't a nightmare, she played
the message back again. Oh yes, it was real. She reclined in her
chair, looking at the ceiling of her spartanly furnished cabin,
trying to gather her thoughts. Taking a quick glance at her wall
clock, she saw it read 1235. The covert ops guys would be there in an
hour and a half. Sighing, she walked over to a small cabinet set in
the wall. Extracting a bottle, she quickly poured herself a glass of
bourbon. She needed it.
===============
= Shuttle J45 =
===============
Commander Bert Jenkins sat in the cramped seating area of the D-3
class hauler, or "octapig" as most people refered to it. The name was
correct, the hauler looked a whole lot like a pig with 8 legs. The 8
legs were for additional storage space. But the D-3 wasn't designed
for style, it was for hauling equipment. And boy, did he have a lot
of it. He was in command of the Confederation's top code cracking
team, the self-named "Cyphers." a non-creative name for a group of
non-creative people. That was a must on this job,
you had to be able to interact with machines. People skills, artistry,
and creativity were secondary issues.
His team had been together for five long years, and had helped to
crack three Kilrathi fleet codes wide open. They were tightly knit,
partly because they sometimes worked side by side for fourteen hours
straight, and partly because there were only three of them: Jenkins,
Lt. Commander Lauren Bussjuball, and Lt. Jane Joos. Bussjuball was as
plain and mousy as they come. Nothing at all distinguished her from
any other girl you might see at a bar, but she was a great cracker
and completely tireless. Bert had read over her fitness report, which
showed she needed only four hours of sleep a night, due to something
out of whack in her metabolism. Joos was strikingly beautiful, with
an infinete depth to her eyes. Many would wonder why she was doing
such un-glamorous work, while she could be a model or an actor with a
snap of her fingers. But that wouldn't satisfy her, she was the rare
combination of beauty and brains. But Jenkins had no such thoughts
about her, he was a calm, detached professional. He'd been with
Confed all his adult life, and if there was one thing he'd learned,
it was never to get involved with ANYBODY with a war on. A beep
sounded, signaling the docking was about to take place. The "octapig"
slowly moved up alongside the TCS Kinshasa, extending a small arm
into the frigate's port side airlock. It cut all speed, the arm
pulling it towards the airlock, until the two ships were side by
side, their air locks perfectly lined up. Bert looked over at the
airlock entrance, and saw the lights cycle from red to green, the
pressure equalized. Motioning for his companions to follow him, he
picked up a small packet and a Confed issue duffel bag, and strode to
the airlock and keyed it open. He suddenly found himself face to face
with the imposing figure of Captain Linda Rondoh. He quickly turned
and saluted the ship's colors, painted on the wall. With that, he
turned and faced the Captain again, saluting and stating: "Permission
to come aboard, sir." Rondoh dryly replied: "Permission granted."
Rondoh was indeed an imposing figure. At 6 foot 5, she had to duck to
get through most of the ship's corridors. She had salt and pepper
hair, and steel gray eyes which looked as if they could cut a hole
straight through durasteel. Her face had numerous burn scars about
it, which (as Bert had read) were aquired when she had been caught in
the destruction of the Formidable, an Exeter class destroyer, ten
years ago. The Captain just stared at Bert for a moment, and he found
himself tightly clutching the small packet he held in his left hand.
Suddenly remembering his duty, he thrust the packet forward and said:
"Admiral's orders." Rondoh read over the orders quickly, and her
heart fell. They required the transfer of six enlisted men and one
officer off of the ship, to make room for quarters and storage space
the covert people needed. The reason this upset her was one of the
enlisted men was their cook, Mandara Sull. She could make the most
spectacular Vegan meals anybody had ever tasted. A note said the
reason Mandara was transfered off was they needed the galley space
for equipment. This meant nobody would be able to cook, they would
have to live on the hideous dehydrated standard rations.
"They'll be carried out." Linda said simply, and then, "When
will your loadout be complete?"
"About four hours, faster if you can spare some crew members for
hauling." Jenkins replied. "I've got a few that can be spared.
Anything else?" Rondoh said, with a bit of an edge to her tone. Bert
gulped. "No sir." "All right then, I'll be on the bridge." said
Rondoh, as she abrubtly walked off in the opposite direction. Bert
exchanged meaningful glances with his companions, and set about his
work.
========================
= Bridge, TCS Kinshasa =
= Four Hours Later =
========================
Linda felt a surge of pride as she surveyed her bridge crew. They all
efficiently went about their tasks, not a single one of them green.
She hated breaking in green crew members, especially going into a
combat situation. One "beginner's folly" could cost her entire crew
their lives. "How long 'till we get underway?" Linda bellowed to the
young tech. Linda made it a point to always talk loudly on the
bridge, it kept the crew on their toes. "Engines at 89%, estimating 2
minutes sir." the tech replied. Linda nodded and sat in her command
chair, reflecting on the current situation. The transfered crew
members had left without protest on the hauler that brought the
covert people over. She had delegated a few crew members who were
competent enough to handle sensitive equipment to haul the code
cracking gear on board. By now, about a third of the ship was taken
over by arcane gadgetry that did god-knows-what. But that didn't seem
to effect the crew, and so far there hadn't been any wild rumors
about the mission they were undertaking. "Engines at full sir." the
tech announced. "Signal the Hercules to set course for jump point
37-B3. Set us the same course, engines at full, let's go." "Aye,
Captain." The mighty frigate sped away at a good clip, suddenly
disapearing in a purplish vortex. They were on their way.
Comments, criticism, pipe bombs, first born children welcome.
-Drew