Ever since the halcyon days of 1995 - when life was bright and hopeful and the dark shape of the future were merely clouds on the horizon, all of humanity has been driven by the singular question...
What if Star Trek: Voyager was good, actually?
Today, here, now, in the grim future of 2022, you will answer that question.
RULES
1) Write Ins are encouraged
2) Voting exists!
3) This will be run using the Star Trek: Adventure rules!
CONTENT WARNING: This quest has the mature tag for the reason! There is SWEARS! There is GORE - energy weapons are shockingly graphic when delt with realistically. There's even SEX SCENES. Yes, Voyager is now on HBO! You have been warned!
Admiral Sonnenberg walked into the meeting room for Logistics and Strategy for Sector-988 of the Alpha Quadrent with two donuts on a tray and a coffee cup in his hand.
"Ready for another glorious day in the service, G'wena?" he asked. "Donut? I got you a plain one."
"Fuck you, Chuck," Admiral G'wena Tna muttered, her ears pinned back against her head. "How humans are able to choke down that much carbohydrates and sugar without turning up dead shocks me."
"To be fair, a lot of us didn't for a long time," Admiral Sonnenberg said, taking his seat. "So, what are we looking at today?"
"We've got fifty six ships, fifty five crews, and maybe sixty apocalyptic problems that have to all be looked at simultaneously," G'wena said, sliding her PADD between her paws as her ears twitched back. Admiral Sonnenberg, meanwhile, started eating the donut he had 'helpfully' replicated for her. "Lets start with the big one - the pulsar near Deep Space 5."
"Yeah, the one with the civilization living on it," Admiral Sonnenberg said, nodding.
"The locals are building a gravitational destabilization device, uh, says that if it goes off, matter stops cohering in a fifteen light year bubble."
Admiral Sonnenberg stuck his tongue into his cheek. "Sounds bad. What did the DTI guys say about it?"
"They will have told me to stop bothering them last week," G'wena said.
"Okay, so, no help, as usual," Sonnenberg said, then sighed. "Uh, Enterprise?"
"They're busy," G'wena said.
"Okay, no Enterprise," Sonnenberg rubbed at his eyes with his thumbs. "Then we'll have to move it to the Agamemnon."
"We need the Aggy on Cardassian duty," G'wena said.
"Shit," Sonnenburg said. "How bad are the Cardi's looking?"
G'wena held up a paw and waggled it in a little 'eh, so so' gesture. "You know the Cardis. We keep giving them stuff and they keep thinking that means we're intimidated by them."
"Has D&C still not convinced them that we're not lying about not being capitalists?" Sonnenberg said.
"If D&C could find their dicks without five forms and three committees, maybe, but, we live in an imperfect universe." G'wena said, then looked down at the PADD. "How about the Tempest?"
"Hmm...their captain is...Fin...Fin...Fi-
"Findalalelenal," G'wena said, casually.
"Right, zir perfect, they handled that little dragon situation."
"It wasn't a dragon," G'wena said, already tabbing to the next part.
"Big snake, eating stars, named Quetzalcoatl, it's a dragon," Sonnenberg muttered into his coffee.
"Right," G'wena said. "Lets see, next problem. We got another Goatee."
"Another?" Sonnenberg asked. "Are we looking at a stick on or a shave?"
"Shave, sad to say," G'wena said.
"Shit. Who the fuck comes here from the evil universe-"
"New regs have classified it as Timeline-2A."
"Evil universe," Sonnenberg said, without missing a beat. "Who comes here, looks around, and goes 'gee, I sure wanna fuck this shit up.'" He rubbed his palm against his eyes. "The ones who immediately start thanking god, convert to whatever altruistic religion they prefer, and become turnip farmers are the ones I get."
"The evil ones are the ones who don't do that," G'wena said. "And this one arrived with a Terran battleship and is now in orbit around Proxima-4."
"Uh, shit, we can send the Mongoose under Seward," Sonnenberg said. "He's been itching to try his new quantums out. Send him to a goatee."
That was how it went. On and on down the list - dispatching ships, patching holes. Plugging problems. And in a galaxy that was not only larger than it was possible for the human mind to conceive, but stranger than it was possible for the human imagination to plan for - a galaxy of black swans and unexpected and inexplicable events - there were a goddamn awful lot of problems to plug. And it seemed like there was more every day. But after hours of grueling winnowing and selecting, the two had pinned it down. They had done their jobs. And they had even done them well.
And then G'wena's PADD chimed.
"Shit," she said. "TacCom wants us to pitch in for their little snipe hunt."
"Fuuuuuuuck," Admiral Sonnenberg groaned. "They're still not dropping it! It's like they think that the Maquis are breaking the law or something."
"They committed mutiny, Chuck. It is against the law to commit mutiny."
Admiral Sonnenberg frowned across the table at his fellow admiral in LogStrat. "That fucking treaty was bullshit, and you know it."
"I know it, but the Federation senate ratified it, the Federation president signed it-" G'wena said.
"Is this what Starfleet is now? A rubber stamp for some intergalactic bureaucracy?" Sonnenberg asked, knocking back his cup of coffee and polishing it off completely. "We pulled a shitty move on a bunch of independent civilians for political expediency's sake, and now, TacCom wants to get all pissy about it because some of their shiny new spaceships - shiny new spaceships that we can make as many of as we fucking want got pinched and now some Starfleet officers are following the basic ass directive of shooting some goddamn fascists with particle cannons. It's bullshit."
"Chuck. Stop screwing around."
Sonnenberg sighed. "Okay. Okay. Okay. Lets see what's coming out of drydock."
He leaned over his PADD as G'wena tapped away at hers.
--- What do we got on the docket...
[ ] USS Voyager - a little Steamrunner class right off the line. No one will miss a steamrunner if we chuck it at the problem.
[ ] USS Voyager - ahh, we have a Nova class right in the area studying the badlands. They can handle a few runaway civilians.
[ ] USS Voyager - this is just maliciousness, but TacCom has one of their new Sovereigns running through the area for operations against the Orions. Can they really complain if we broaden that mission envelope a little?
[ ] USS Voyager - I didn't know we still had Constellations. Old, dependable, should be mothballed. Send them.
And who are we chasing?
[ ] a stolen Galaxy class - the Envoy
[ ] a stolen Saber class - the Naginata.
[ ] a stolen civilian ship - something called the Luck Be A Lady Tonight
[ ] They actually stole a whole ass Cardassian cruiser, holy shit. A Keldon class heavy cruiser!
AUTHOR'S NOTE: If you don't write as a plan vote, I will literally kill you.
G'wena read the ship selection sent to her pad. She lifted her eyes up to Sonnenberg.
"You're a dick," she said.
"I sure am," Sonnenberg said. "But a Sovereign class could handle this situation in, what, five minutes."
"TacCom is going to scream at you for weeks," G'wena said.
"And I will happily place their messages in the recycling bin," Sonnenberg said, jovially. "They're subordinate to LogStrat and they know it."
G'wena crossed her arms over her chest, frowning. "Who's captaining?"
Sonnenberg checked his PADD.
Pick one Federation Captain
[ ] Katheryn Janeway, former Science Division, got her step for her handling of the phase spider invasion. Good, solid, dependable science officer.
[ ] Tjaard Alexis, born and raised on Tarris-2. He successfully handled the Xul first contact mission, despite the plasma torpedoes. The cybernetics are treating him well, apparently.
[ ] Loisma-Ne, from the Aurelian's first gas giant colony. She came to starfleet through the DSC Academy, but lost her entire ship and crew at 359. Saved 9800 lives.
[ ] Arex Co, veteran captain through the Cardassian War. He solved the trade treaty with the Logas when he fixed up their space elevator project with a replicator, two shuttles and a big rock.
"Sounds decent enough for this," G'wena said, rubbing her eyes. "But the-"
"Yeah, I know, bridge crew is just as important. They've got distinguished officers in tactical, science, the whole works. We don't put second raters on Sovereigns," Sonnenberg said.
"I thought that Starfleet didn't have second raters," G'wena said.
The two admirals sat for a bit, watching eachother.
Then they both started to laugh, leaning over their documents.
Pick, from this list, five loyal and good Starfleet officers, pure to the last.
[ ] Amy Strong - human security specialist and relatively new cadet. Accidentally became godlike messiah of a minor culture during an away mission and periodically is hit by quantum stability events induced by the religious artifact buried in her chest which cause minor transformations, bouts of superhuman strength, and various visual effects. Mostly embarrassed by the whole affair.
[ ] R'Than - old school and long in the tooth Caitian fighter pilot, served as a test pilot for pretty much every kind of starfighter that the Federation was interested in building until 2362 when the program was shut down. Has spent the last ten years bothering everyone in Starfleet to bring back carriers, made himself such a nescience they've stuck him anywhere.
[ ] Tuvok - security and tactical specialist, Vulcan, served for nearly a century in Starfleet...dang, he was on the Excelsior. He's shown absolutely no interest in command or higher management positions, which means he is an absolute fucking godsend in this horrible, officer heavy bullshit excuse for a navy: A non-com that knows what the FUCK they're DOING.
[ ] Nicholas Locarno - disgraced human cadet known for spectacular flight and leadership abilities, cross-trained in combat and special operations. Ostensibly lost his position in starfleet due to a training accident and conspiracy to cover it up, but everyone is 99% sure he got involved with Starfleet Intelligence somehow. Connected to Maquis and offered parole for serving.
[ ] D-91 - unexpectedly sentient holodeck program based on a franchise property entertainment serial Galactic Conquest, D-91 became self aware and sued for his own rights citing Moriarty V Federation. Since the copyright on the intellectual property defining the serial Galactic Conquest overall and the specific movie that D-91 starred in (Commando Squad Vengeance) has expired, the case was more of a short Turing trial, followed by transferring D-91 from a holographic matrix to computer-core housed on an ambulatory frame. He likes cats.
[ ] Dr. Louis Rodriguez - Lunar native, avid sports enthusiast and generally well regarded doctor who only wanted to take care of people and engage in his few hobbies, Rodriguez became famous when a holonovel he wrote in his spare time became ludicrously popular and catapulted him into public notice. He is deeply embarrassed by this and hopes to one day paper over his "silly" fame with something more important, like curing a disease or something.
[ ] Talla Shran - Andorian naval combat engineer and science expert, she's a transfer from something called Operation: Blackbox. It's got Department of Temporal Interference and Starfleet Intelligence ciphers all over it, but her fellow crewmates have pieced at least some of it together by the fact she has a tattoo for I<3NY despite never being to Earth and can field strip primitive 20th century firearms and, when pressed, can talk your ear off about something called M.A.S.H.
[ ] Bian T'are - Orion diplomatic specialist and councilor, former sex worker and sociologist who served with distinction during the Orion Integration in 2368. She had to be transferred out after an assassination attempt by her sister put the project in jeopardy and her life at risk. Speaks multiple languages and has a skill for picking up new ones. ...before you ask, yes, she's been given a pheromone masker.
[ ] "Tom Paris" - huh...weird, this looks like we've got a...repeat file, this looks like Locarno's...but the name's Tom Paris and a few minor details have been changed. Nothing major though.
[ ] Harold "Harry" Kim - sterling new ensign, earmarked for rapid advancement due to his outstanding service record both in the Academy and in his Cadet Fleet tour. He's new, yes, but everything here looks like the kind of kid who makes captain by the time he's thirty. Or, you know, he dies horribly. Or both! It's Starfleet, you can easily die twice and still end up as Captain before you're thirty!
As they finished scrolling through the files, Sonnenberg nodded.
"Okay," he said, grinning slightly. "We're good! We're good?"
"We're good," G'wena said.
"I am going to the holodeck then," Sonnenberg said and stood up, yanking his uniform down for a bit. "I need to blow off some steam."
"Again, really?" G'wena asked.
"Please, G'wena, we're professionals here. I was referring to having an orgy with holographic Vulcan love slaves."
---
In the captain's cabin of the USS Voyager, one of the five Sovereign class battleships in service within the Federation's Starfleet, a low chime came from the monitor - indicating an emergency, high value incoming message was arriving. A soft groan came from the bed and the captain wriggled around, rolled out, then crawled to the desk.
"Fuck me," they muttered, looking down at the orders.
And the attached intelligence briefing.
You will pick five (5) perfidious Maquis traitors from this list of scum.
[ ] C'Nola - half Catian, half human, this starfleet officer came from a trouble family and abusive parents. She refused counseling, became nearly ungovernable at the Academy despite her outstanding Security and Command courses, and ended up leaving the academy after removing an instructor's eye with her claws during hand to hand training. Not sure when she joined the Maquis.
[ ] B'lanna Torres - half human, half klingon, engineering specialist. She quit Starfleet in disgust after the Cardassian Peace Treaty and has been making waves as preforming outstanding feats of engineering know how in the Maquis - including the coup of capturing a Dreadnaught class experimental autonomous warframe build by the Cardassian Union in 2369.
[ ] Brian Wacoche - a former tribal official in the Keetoowah Union in the North American administrative zone, Wacoche was a premier Starfleet tactical and security operations leader, on track for command. However, he felt that the Federation's handling of the colonial situation - especially the incident on colony Dorvan V where a multitribal coalition of First Nations peoples were threatened with eviction and forced to choose between that or being left under the "administration" of the Cardassians - was intolerable and left to join the Maquis shortly afterwards.
[ ] Tuvok [STARFLEET INTELLIGENCE ALERT: Tuvok is a class II deep insert agent in the Val Jean's crew. He is to be immediately reinducted into Starfleet upon the ship's capture.]
[ ] Korath - unclear if Korath is a mercenary, a refugee from the IDF, or just a Klingon who really fucking hates Cardassians, or all of the above. Described by associates as crazier than a box of Tellerite Boxsnakes and harder to kill than a Thoian with fire, Korath is also remarkable for being a worshiper of the Old Gods. Which may be another reason why he's not popular in the Klingon Empire.
[ ] 11101/10010 - a pair of Binars so closely interconnected they might as well be the same person. The two binars (also known as Eleven and Ten) are computer specialists and electronic warfare masters par excellence. They were sterling, upstanding members of Starfleet for a remarkably long time...until, uh, they just left. They didn't even leave a note.
[ ] V'orak - a Gorn attaché sent from the Gorn Hegemony to "observe" Maquis operations (this may have something to do with the Gorn's position near the Cardassian sphere of influence), V'orak is ostensibly neutral, but this hasn't prevented him from applying his immense strategic and tactical knowledge to the Maquis cause. You know. As politely worded suggestions.
[ ] Kelly Lang - a human who never showed any interest in Starfleet or Starfleet operations until 2370 when his colony and home was given over to the Cardassians for administration. He and his friends were found guilty by the Cardassian authorities of seditious activities and were executed - but only a poorly calibrated disruptor blast saved Kelly's life. He joined the Maquis the instant he could escape.
[ ] Dr. Morgan Bowers - a former colonial doctor and botanist, Dr. Bowers spent two years under Cardassian occupation trying to protect the local ecosystems from their lithium extraction operations, furious that that had been the reason why the Cardassians had pushed so hard for her home during the treaty. She eventually hit a point where she couldn't stand by and joined the Maquis - though she hasn't, according to our files, killed anyone directly.
[ ] Glovcek Khebloss - Tellerite miner, demolitions expert and engineering specialist, Glovcek was drummed out of Starfleet for violating the prime directive. The actual specifics are hush hush, but rumor has it that he was caught up in a bigger scandal than just the prime directive - involving an Admiral's offspring. Good at his job and, like most Tellerites, prone to arguing.
The captain finished reading.
"Great," they muttered, before tapping their combadge. "Bridge - set course for the Badlands."
--- REMINDER!!! If you do not write as a plan vote, I WILL KILL YOU! WITH A KNIFE.
The Dragon: Once per episode, at the beginning of combat place an Advantage on the field representing a cunning tactic or strategy devised by Danara Pel.
NAME
USS Voyager
PROF.
MULTIROLE
CLASS
Sovereign Class Heavy Exploration Vessel
CONST
2371
SHIELDS
13/13
RESISTANCE
6
SCALE
6
POWER
13/13
CREW SUPPORT
6
SMALL CRAFT
5
COMMS
ENGINES
STRUCTURE
COMPUTERS
SENSORS
WEAPONS
BREACHES
0/6
0/6
0/6
0/6
0/6
0/6
9
11
10
11
9
10
COMMAND
3
12
14
13
14
12
13
CONNING
2
12
14
13
14
12
13
ENGINEERING
2
11
13
12
13
11
12
SECURITY
3
13
15
14
16
13
14
SCIENCE
2
11
13
12
13
11
12
MEDICINE
2
11
13
12
13
11
12
TALENTS
Command Ship: Can give advantages using Command within range to Away Missions or to supporting ships.
EMH: Has an EMH!
Improved Warp Drive: When going to warp, roll 1cd on an effect, regain the power point.
Quantum Torpedoes: Can use Quantum Torpedoes! (60 total)
Secondary Reactors: +5 to Power
High Resolution Sensors: +1 momentum to out of combat sensor checks.
TRAITS
Federation Starship – A highly sophisticated and advanced vessel, with holodecks, replicators, and similar comforts, primarily designed to handle multiple operations. Highly sensitive and requiring constant maintenance, the vehicle is less rugged than other interstellar craft
Maquis Crew - a good chunk of the crew are former Maquis troublemakers. Expect discipline problems and unorthodox plans.
WEAPONS
Phaser Arrays
Power Cost: 1-3 | Range: Medium | Damage: 9cd [+1 per extra power spent]
Can Use Spread: Hit +1 time at ½ damage per effect OR Area: hit +1 ship per effect within close range.
Versatile 2: Gain 2 bonus momentum with a successful hit
Photon Torpedoes
Power Cost: 0 | Range: Long | Damage: 6cd
High Yield: If it causes 1 breach, it causes +1 breach
Quantum Torpedoes
Power Cost: 0 | Range: Long | Damage: 7cd (Vicious 1 - +1 damage on effects)
High Yield: If it causes 1 breach, it causes +1 breach
Calibrations: Requires 1 minor action to calibrate
Tractor Beam (Strength 5)
Power Cost: 0 | Range: Close | Damage: None
Effect: If successfully established, enemies face a diff 5 check to escape.
SCIENCE: Tuvok (Skilled: Science | Weakness: Emotionless)
COMMS: Lt. Bian T'are (Skilled: Communications | Weakness: Combat)
MEDICAL: The EMH (Skilled: Doctor | Weakness: Kind of a Dick)
ENGINEER: B'lanna Torres (Skilled: Engineering | Weakness: Also a dick)
SECONDARY CHARACTERS
Ensign Steve (Useless Security Goon)
Ensign Becky (plural fighter jock)
Petty Officer Third Class Jessie (Hard working engineer)
Crewman Billingsly (Dude, Billingsly!)
Crewman Chandra (Concerned Crewman)
Bifurcate (bidimensional robot girlfriend of Harry Kim)
Princess Lyan Positron (runaway daughter of magician most foul and girlfriend of Harry Kim)
Soria Flyte (Pegasus girl and girlfriend of Harry Kim)
Mirror Universe Trevor (he's fine!)
NAME
MRSS Val Jean
PROF.
TACOPS
CLASS
Keldon Class Heavy Cruiser
CONST
2370
SHIELDS
12/12
RESISTANCE
5
SCALE
4
POWER
7/7
CREW SUPPORT
4
SMALL CRAFT
3
COMMS
ENGINES
STRUCTURE
COMPUTERS
SENSORS
WEAPONS
BREACHES
0/4
0/4
0/4
0/4
0/4
0/4
9
9
9
8
7
10
COMMAND
3
12
12
12
11
10
13
CONNING
2
11
11
11
10
9
12
ENGINEERING
2
11
11
11
10
9
12
SECURITY
3
12
12
12
11
10
13
SCIENCE
1
10
10
10
9
8
11
MEDICINE
2
11
11
11
10
9
12
TALENTS
Electronic Warfare Suite: Whenever making a Jamming or Intercept communications check, can spend 2 momentum to select +1 target (repeatable.)
Fast Targeting Systems: No +1 diff for called shots
Improved Hull Integrity: +1 Resistance
Cloaking Device: Spend 3 power, and make a Control+Engineering + Engines + Security check with a diff of 2. If successful, gain the Cloaked Trait (impossible to detect, cannot attack, shields are down.) It takes a minor action to decloak.
TRAITS
Cardassian Ship – Durable, uncomfortable, close, cramped and cheap. Thinks creature comforts are for other people and technical sophistication is for people who haven't spent decades starving to death. The fact that the starving could have been avoided if the government were less...you know, monstrous doesn't seem to have occurred to that many of them.
Okampan Crew – the crew are bright, perky, cheerful, and incredibly psychically powerful. Individually, they're all better than Vulcans, and as a gestalt? Who knows!
WEAPONS
Phaser Arrays
Power Cost: 1-3 | Range: Medium | Damage: 7-9cd (Spread: Hit +1 time at ½ damage per effect OR Area)
Versatile 2: Gain X bonus momentum with a successful hit
Disruptor Banks
Range: Medium | Damage: 8-10cd (Vicious 1: Each effect adds +1 damage)
Crewman Stadi - Age 23, Betazoid, born Beta Colony-5 to Zani and Talwyn of the House of Riis, survived by her sisters Tari and Batri.
R'mor - age 182, Vulcan, burn on Romulus to R'tan and Leslali, survived by his twelve nieces and nephews across the Empire
Captain Katheryn Janeway entered onto the bridge of the USS Voyager with a cup of coffee and a truly hideous, orange furred, furious cat that was trying to claw her eyes out as she held him casually under one of her arms. The mug was more important - she held it up and even, walking past the tactical consoles that were arrayed at the back of the bridge, and coming to her XO.
"Your cat's loose again," she said.
"Oh dear," D-91 said, watching as his cat swiped at Janeway's face with one bared claw. "My apologies."
"The doors do lock for a reason, Dee," Janeway said crooking her arm and effortlessly slinging the cat around on her palm. The robotic fingers of her XO took hold of the cat, which immediately began to purr loudly, pressing against the smooth metal pane that made up D-91's chest. The sleek robot's chassis looked as if it had been designed sometime in the 20th century, imagining what the 24th century might build their robots to be - making it impossibly quaint next to the modern androids that served in Starfleet. But D-91 hadn't exactly come from the same 24th century everyone else had.
He preferred the retro-future look he had going.
"Lt. Strong, how are we looking for arrival at Deep Space 9?" Janeway asked as she settled into her seat and gulped down the scorching hot coffee she preferred. The replicator kept trying to set it cooler - but she had always had just enough work in her day to not want to spend more of her free time programming an ornery computer into recognizing she liked it this way.
Amy Strong glanced over her shoulder at her captain. She still looked distressingly young for her new pips. "Uh, at warp 8? Thirty two minutes."
"Very good," Janeway said, then sighed as she blew on the edge of the coffee. "Anything new to report?"
"TacCom has officially denied Intelligence's dibs," D-91 said, then paused. "That is the human word we use right? Dibs?"
"Dibs might be a less than diplomatic term to use," T'are interjected from her communications console. She was reading transcripts flicking across her screen. She turned in her seat to flash a dazzling Orion smile at the two of them. "It makes it seem like they're petty."
"I thought you said that there was nothing more petty than Starfleet Intelligence than Starfleet Tactical Command," D-91 said, a bit bemused. Janeway chuckled into her coffee.
T'are chuckled and turned back to her screen. "I guess you could say that..."
"So, no go on letting them escape?" Janeway asked.
"No," D-91 said.
Janeway nodded, slowly as Lt. Strong lifted her head. "Wait, let them escape?" she asked. "Uh, Captain, I mean. What?"
Janeway chuckled. "Do you want me to explain that, Lieutenant, or do you want shore leave on Deep Space 9?"
"Explanation, please," Amy said.
Janeway shook her head. "When you get to be my age, Lieutenant, you'll learn to enjoy shore leave while it lasts. But, well, we're picking up a Starfleet Intelligence contact with the Marquis. And the Marquis ship with it."
Amy went perfectly still. "Ah," she said. Janeway and D-91 exchanged a glance. D-91 looked baffled, his little simplified face projection showing that he was meeting Janeway's eyes because he had no idea what subtle cue he had just missed was. Janeway gave her XO a little smile, then stood and walked up to the front of the bridge. She leaned forward, her voice soft.
"Is there something we should know about, Amy?" Janeway asked, quietly.
"It's nothing, Captain," Amy said, shaking her head.
"Amy, remember what I said, when you first came aboard?" Janeway asked, crossing her arms over her chest.
Amy tapped her fingers on the hard plastic trim of her LCARS control system. "It's never not nothing," she said, then sighed. "It's just...an old friend of mine from the Academy joined the Marquis." She bit her lip. "It's...not likely. But, then again, she was really good at her job."
"What was her specialization?" Janeway asked.
"Well, uh, tactical and security, but her job was pissing off our instructors as hard as she could," Amy said, smiling shyly.
"Ahh," Janeway said. "Well, our goal is to take them all in for trial."
Amy considered that. She still looked concerned.
"Remember, this is the Federation," Janeway added.
"Yeah," Amy said, nodding. "Yeah! Prison's not so bad in the Federation."
"That's the spirit," Janeway said, slapping her shoulder.
***
"Arrrrgghghhhhhhhhhh!"
"Sorry, uh...did...I do it wrong?
Palms slammed down onto the metal top of the small, dimly lit, brightly decorated, smoky bar - the sound of jangling Dabo tables filling the air almost as much as the soft conversation from every corner. Quark, the owner and proprietor of said bar, glared over the counter at the smiling, faintly confused face of one Ensign Harry Kim.
"Firstly," Quark said, aiming his finger down at the credit exchange unit he had on his counter. "You put the cost for your meal and drink in the tips section. Tips are for the wait staff. Meal costs cover the energy cost on the replicators and for the rent I pay on running this fine establishment you lovely Starfleet officers keep visiting." He spread his hands, transforming lovely Starfleet Officers, through tone alone, into 'fucking idiots'. "And despite having a sign hung up, and instructions on the check, and having been owning and operating this bar on this station under this current administration for a full standard year...you...still...don't...get it!"
Harry looked down at the check, then looked back up at the furious Ferengi, his smile even more bland and inoffensive. "So, this...is where I put the tip..."
"Which is, by custom, five percent of the bill," Quark says, casually.
"Right. Okay." Harry nodded. "And it goes..."
"To the very nice and very pretty lady who brought you the meal. And that drink you are enjoying, right now, as we speak," Quark said. Harry nodded. He looked down at his blue, fruity number. Then he downed it in a single gulp, clenched his teeth, hissed through them, then put the cup down.
"Right," Harry said. "Sorry. It's just...I kinda figured that the lady who did all the work should get the money."
Quark glared daggers at him as Harry's smile became maliciously bland and inoffensive. Harry's com-badge blipped and the computerized voice that came from it spoke directly into his ear - directed by the shaped microspeakers built into the device. //ETA: THIRTY SECONDS\\
Harry set the glass down, then hurried towards the exit.
"You're not welcome back in my bar ever again, human!" Quark called after him - but Harry was already out and into the curved promenade of Deep Space 9. "Management is labor too...someone's been talking to Rom..." Quark kept muttering.
Harry stepped past and around the kiosks that were shilling various trinkets to visitors and scientific staff on their way to the Bajoran Wormhole, then came to the window looking out at space.
One moment, there was nothing.
The next, there was the Voyager.
It appeared in a ripple of distorted space/time as the warp bubble that allowed it to slip through the universe faster than light, and went from being not there to there in a single flashing moment. The sleek bulk of the ship took Harry aback for a moment - despite reading up the technical manuals, seeing the nearly kilometer long ship, with the elongated saucer and the swept back nacelles in the real ceramic and steel was another thing entirely. A few people who had also been watching out the windows clapped and cheered. Harry's com badge chirruped again, but this time it was a human voice coming through.
"Ensign Kim, this is Chief Martinez in T-Ops. We're picking someone up from the DS9 brig, Captain wants one of our crew to be there to see the changeover from Bajoran security," the voice said.
"Got it, Chief," Harry said, trying to sound like how an officer should sound. Cool. Confident. Not squeak-eager to get his first actual real mission ever. Okay. Simple mission. Easy mission! Pick up some guy from a brig. Easy. Easy! He could do this. Harry rolled his shoulders and set off.
---
The man in charge of Bajoran security was not a species Harry recognized. But with hundreds of species recognized across the galaxy as being warp capable just in the Alpha Quadrant alone, that wasn't exactly unexpected. Fortunately, Harry didn't need to know his species. He just had to get his name and rank.
"And like that," Constable Odo said, his voice gravely and grave enough to put Harry in mind of several of his more terrifying instructors at the Academy. "Mr. Paris' stay with us is at an end. Here you are." He handed over a PADD with a disapproving frown. Harry wasn't sure if he disapproved of the PADD and the documentation on it, Harry Kim himself, handing a prisoner over, or just...maybe his face just looked like that....
"Thanks," Harry said, glancing past Odo to the two Bajoran constables escorting Mr. Paris out of the brig and into the open air. He was a tall, handsome looking man with short blond hair, clean shaven cheeks, and a faintly bemused, bored expression set on his face. The manacles around him were undone and the constables stepped backwards.
"Thanks for the hospitality, gentlemen," Mr. Paris said, nodding to Constable Odo - who's expression didn't change overtly, but somehow became significantly more of itself. Harry coughed.
"Mr. Paris, I'm Ensign Harry Kim," Harry said. "I'm here to escort you to the transporter bays."
"Please, call me Tom," Mr. Paris says, flashing Harry a dazzling smile and offering his hand.
--- First mission, first foot, first decision.
[ ] Harry will try and remain professional.
[ ] Eh, he seems nice! Be friendly
[ ] ...oh no, he's hot.
[ ] Write In
CURRENT MOMENTUM: 0
CHECK: Janeway checks her Command skill! Diff is going to be 2.
ROLL: 2 successes!
Time to be a professional, quality Starfleet officer.
"Well, Tom," Harry said, inclining his head fractionally. "I'll be taking you to the transporter room. Come on."
"Sure thing, Harry," Tom said, then flashed him a grin that Harry was fairly sure was meant to be charming. Annoyingly, it was. "First time out, huh?"
Harry tried to keep his face impassive as he reached up and tugged his uniform more flat against his chest. Then again, he thought. Officers are supposed to be gracious, even to prisoners. He nodded. "Just finished my tour on the Cadet Fleet - they had me on one of those old Constellation class ships, running the triangle patrol."
"Ah, the Cadet fleet," Tom said, shaking his head. "Never got there myself. Was it as boring as it looked?"
Harry shrugged. "There was one temporal anomaly that brought a displaced Andorian warship forward in time - but we had to send it back before the timeline got corrupted by its absence." His cheeks colored slightly, remembering Lt. Adjana Trax and her short, three day stay on the Farragut. "So, you know. Normal stuff."
They came to the transporter room, where several technicians were hurrying around, tugging wall paneling off their mountings to reveal the circuitry and EPS conduits that ran underneath the skin of most starships and starbases. The amounts of energy being shunted from place to place on every part of any vehicle that used modern appliances like shields and transporters and replicators was something that they trained you, early on, to not think too hard about. "Uh, is everything all right, Chief?" Harry asked, his brow furrowing, while the local CPO pointed his phaser at the exposed walls, the weapon armed and buzzing faintly.
"Just fine, sir," the tough looking man said, then fired. A beam of searing orange light stabbed out and a second later, something hideously brown and fur covered rolled out from the conduits. He fired again, then again, and three more dropped out, each one smoking, while a bored and tired looking crewman swept them up with a replicated broom.
"Cardassian voles?" Tom asked, nudging one with his toe.
"They're a big problem," the Chief said, then turned to face them. He brightened. "You two here to beam out? We'll get the transport working again in just a bit. Gotta make sure the voles didn't chew through anything too important."
Harry and Tom both eyed the transporter pads - then both nodded.
As they waited for the changeover, Harry hazarded a question. "So, do you know why you're being put on the Voyager?"
"Oh, easy," Tom said, grinning slightly. "I'm a dangerous Maquis terrorist. Gotta have the dangerous terrorist to catch the renegades."
Harry snorted. "What did you do, cheat some Cardassians at cards?"
"Not even!" Tom said, shaking his head. "I was barely in for three weeks - and those weeks were mostly spent waiting around for some good targets to show up. Before I even got to phaser anyone, I got arrested by the Feds."
Harry blinked. "So, are you going to be any use at all?"
"Not if I can help it!" Tom said, then beamed at him.
***
The USS Voyager activated her warp engines and shot away from Deep Space 9 at a comfortable, steady warp 8. They'd cross the distance between the station and the Badlands, the last known location of the Maquis ship Val Jean...and there, they'd capture it.
The crew was spread across the ship. Doing their tasks.
Busy.
Working.
Unaware that everything was about to change.
Janeway was on the bridge, reading her latest report on the Val Jean, delivered to Starfleet a week ago by their operative on the crew. The details were pretty impressive. Brian Wacoche and his crew, which had been outnumbered three to one, had boarded a Kaledon class heavy cruiser and taken her with minimal losses on both sides, then stranded the Cardassians on a life supporting world with enough supplies to keep them alive till rescue found them. Textbook starfleet operation - which had then led to the rechristened Val Jean destroying autonomous ore haulers and lightly defended outposts for the past month.
Harry was unpacking his belongings in his room, eagerly looking forward to his next shift.
D-91 was interviewing Tom Paris in briefing room 51, getting down everything he knew about Wacoche's crew.
The chief engineer, Glarkaor, was walking with Amy Strong in the torpedo bay, the lieutenant checking off newly loaded quantum torpedoes on her inventory.
The total crew compliment was seven hundred people.
That number was about to radically drop.
***
Lt. JG Jasmine Warchalk was on the conn when the alert blipped up. She frowned, tearing her eyes from the viewscreen showing the boarder of the Badlands - the vast, roiling energy fields that had served as the best place for the Maquis to hide during their tenure on the galactic stage. "Captain, I'm detecting a-"
And then the wave of cascading energy smashed into the ship like a tsunami. The USS Voyager heeled hard to port. Every window flared white.
And everything.
Everything.
Went to absolute hell.
***
Dwoo-BRRRN
Dwoo-BRRRN
Dwoo-BRRNN
Janeway croaked out a word that might have been something. She put her hands under her and shoved herself up. "Lieutenant," she started, then lifted her head - and saw that Lieutenant Warchalk was dead. Her head lolled to the side, a chunk of plastic sticking out of her eye. Her console was smoking and sparking - and flames flickered along the wall of the bridge, as if they had just taken a photon torpedo amidships. Other crew groaned and started to shift in their positions, while two who were less injured hurried forward. They began to spray down the fire with extinguishers. Janeway forced herself up, then barked out a quick order.
"Get med kits preped, we have wounded," she said.
"Fuck! Fuck!" One of the bodies shambling from the smoke choked bridge was cradling an arm - obvious bone jutting between grasping fingers. Janeway snapped her fingers to get two crewmen's attention, then pointed at the wounded ensign, before she stepped to Warchalks console. Half of it sparked and buzzed. She turned to the tactical console, sitting and bringing up a damage report.
A whole lot of her ship was red.
The most alarming was the battery indicator, though.
"Shit," Janeway whispered.
She wasn't a specialized engineer, but it didn't take a specialized engineer to spot that the warp core was down for the count. Engineering looked like it was soaking up so much radiation that anyone in there had to be dead, unless they were in the hardened areas or had been really fast on the hardsuits. She frowned, then quickly brought the sensors out of their reboot cycle, then scanned her own ship.
There were two lifesigns in engineering.
The only problem was they were in the armory bay.
***
Amy breathed shallow, low, and fast, trying to keep the Change back as she knelt over Lt. Glarkaor, wincing. Tellerites were tough - but the burly engineer had been picked up and smashed into the wall when the ship had canted and the inertial dampeners hadn't been prepared for and calibrated to prevent the motion. The only reason Amy was okay was...
Sheer fucking luck...
She put the thought out of her head, trying to use her hands to keep Garkaor's neck steady as shelooked around for some way to splint him. He was mumbling something in Tellerse - and if Amy wasn't forcing herself to not spark and fizz and jitter like a flashbulb, she might have been able to do basic translation.
The Change, at times like this...always felt like a call. But she had no way of knowing if she was about to get something stupendously useful...or quantum shift into a gigantic salamander.
"It's okay, Gar, it'll be fine," she lied.
//ALERT LEVEL 1: WARP CORE BREACH DETECTED\\
"...it'll be okay," Amy whispered.
---
CURRENT MOMENTUM: 0
CURRENT SCENE TRUTHS: "Crew hurt, dead & confused"
You can direct up to three characters at once, number chosen purely at a whim! Here are some sample options.
[ ] Janeway comms Amy and directs her into effecting emergency repairs on the warp core. (2 characters)
[ ] Janeway scans local space for threats or, better yet, help! (1 character)
[ ] D-91 and Tom work to triage crew (2 characters)
[ ] Harry heads to engineering to help (1 character)
[ ] Write In
Voy gets whammied by the Caretaker. Due to wibby space bullshit, this is in effect the same as being hit by a 20d Phaser Array, with 2 Threat.
The roll is 15+8e, which means the 2 momentum will be spent on penetration, reducing Voy's resistance from 6 to 2.
An array has spray, meaning that each effect does 1/2 damage...again! So, 15/7/7/7/7/7/7/7/7 damage! Your resistance drops that to 13/5(x8)
13 does 5+ damage and drops to 0 shields, doing 2 breaches. 5 does 5+ damage and hits you at 0 shields, so it does 2 breaches! So, that's 17 breaches in total! EEP!
2 Breach to Weapons - Impacted
5 Breaches to Structure - Damaged
2 Breaches to Sensors - Impacted
7 Breaches to Engine - Destroyed
1 Breach to Communication - Impacted
Weapons: Cannot attack until a Restore minor action is taken.
Structure: Fire + hull breaches on Decks 11, 5 and 14. +2 Complication to all repairs, -1 Resistance. Diff 3 to repair
Sensors: Cannot scan until a Restore Minor action is taken. +1 diff to weapons if fired without restoring.
Engine: Cannot move or maneuver, loses 3 power per turn, max power of 0. Warp breach hasn't happened! ...yet!
Communications: Cannot communicate without a Restore Minor action.
Janeway forced all her panicky thoughts to a tiny, back end corner of her mind. She was the captain. If they were going to survive the next few hours, let alone the near future, she was going to need to see this through. She tapped onto the communication system. "Lieutenant Strong," she said, firmly.
"Yes, Captain?" Amy sounded tense. Janeway hoped she wasn't about to hit the Change. That quantum instability could sometimes come out really useful...but...the last thing they needed right now was another variable.
"How is Gar?" Janeway asked, grimly sure the answer would be...
"Not good, Captain," Amy said.
"Okay. Leave him as best you can - we have to get the warp core repaired and our power systems back online before we can do anything. The engineering deck is currently flooded with hard radiation - I am going to...I'm going to activate the industrial replicators and fill the area with rad-absorbent particulates," Janeway said, tapping the console, reallocating battery power. "That should buy you time. But you won't be able to see and you'll need a breather."
"Got a breather, Captain!" Amy said, her voice shifting, becoming muffled. "Got it."
"Okay," Janeway said, her eyes flicking to the only security camera.
She could see Lt. Carey, sprawled face first on the ground, blood puddling around his face, even as the replicators buzzed and the air began to get blanked out by thick white fog.
Joe was going to be in Wuthering Heights next week, Janeway thought, distantly, before she switched the camera view to a display of the schematics. It was going to be more useful...now that the view was entirely obscured by thick, white, endless fog.
***
Amy squared her shoulders, then cracked the door. Her body buzzed as thick white fog blew past her - but then she was through and slammed the door shut behind her to keep Gar from being exposed to anything more than he had to be. In the darkness, she couldn't see anything but endless fog, batting against her faceplate. Janeway's voice in her ear was confident. "Five paces forward, turn left eighty degrees, two paces forward..." Amy strode forward, found the replicator, already working overtime, the whining sound of the transport-beam as it sorted feedstock from the attached bays into the atomic structures required. She took the first replacement parts out while they were still hot, clenching her teeth as she felt the Change shuddering through her.
No.
Not.
Not now. Not...
Now.
She stepped back as Janeway's voice, a centering tone that Amy clung to like it was a lifeline, said: "Turn forty degrees right. Then...ten paces forward. You will be at the warp core. According to the diagnostics, the magnetic bottle is what is damaged - our secondaries are online, but the primary EPS conduit powering the bottle has to be replaced before the secondaries give out. We do that, then you can evacuate."
Amy nodded, then started forward.
"And Amy...work quick. The closer you are to the reactor, the more radiation you'll be sucking down."
Amy gulped, then started to walk faster.
Had she stepped...five or six times?
Bright blue light seemed to loom from the darkness and her foot balked against the safety railing around the warp core. Her knee slammed home against something metal and tough and she hissed, falling backwards. One of her replacement parts clattered from her hand, vanishing into the fog.
"Oh no, no, no, no, no!" Amy gasped, reaching out, looking around wildly. Her palm slapped into the whiteness, the fog roiling around her hand and arm, but even the end of her arm was vanished in this thick soup - it was like she was wrapped in cotton. "No! No! No!"
***
Harry Kim groaned as he pushed himself to his feet. He had been sitting on his bed, one second. The next, he had been flung out of his bed and right into the goddamn wall. Some extremely profane Mandarin escaped as he forced himself up. He tapped his com badge. "Kim to Bridge?" He asked - but he got the warning buzz that communication from bridge was bottlenecked. He nodded. Okay. Okay. He had trained for this. He glanced out the window...and froze, gaping.
They weren't in the Badlands.
They were, in fact, parked outside of a space station. A vast and delicate looking space station, flowering up at the top with a crystalline latticework, and narrow and angular along the bottom. A glowing thread of light thrust from it down towards a rusty, orange red planet. Periodically, it pulsed with a thick bead, sweeping down towards the planet's surface.
"...okay..." Harry whispered.
That...is not my problem, he thought. The ship just got slammed around something fierce. That means...
The ceiling lights flickered. Harry did the mental math, then tapped his com badge again. "Computer, engine status."
"The warp core has a class two failure alert, with a class one radiation alert in surrounding decks," the computer's prim, officious voice came from his badge and confirmed his worse fears. Their power system was out and someone was shunting power to solutions. They'd need his help. Harry Kim squared his shoulders, took one step, and-
-bink-
He was standing on a dirt road. To his left were rice paddies - large, sweeping expanses of the stuff, tended to by farmers in traditional conical hats. The road lead towards a castle that looked right out of the Warring States period - with banners flying from every wall. Harry glanced down and saw that he was still dressed in his starfleet uniform. He tapped his com badge, but got nothing but the chirrup that indicated it was running on local automation - meaning that it was only as smart as his uniform and badge could make it.
Still smarter than the most advanced automation in this era by a factor of a hundred, but...of limited utility compared to, say, a tricorder.
Or a phaser.
"I really hope this is a simulation," Harry said, squaring his shoulders as he started towards the castle. "I really don't want to deal with time travel on my first abduction." He glanced around and noticed a few of the rice farmers eying him curiously. He started to jog, and came to a copse of trees, where he could maybe collect himself.
Which was when the feral catgirl leaped out of the highest branch of the nearest tree and tried to murder him.
***
"Amy, calm down. Do not panic," Janeway said.
But the thing was...Amy had stopped panicking. She gulped, then said. "It's been an honor, Captain Janeway."
"Amy-"
Amy tapped her com badge. "Computer, emergency vent in engineering," she said.
"Amy!"
The engineering room whirred and groaned. The fog whipped away and Amy didn't feel the killing, hard gamma that was scorching through her. Instead, she focused on the dropped part.
She had been groping in the exact wrong direction. She'd have never found it. Instead, she snatched it up, then turned her gaze to the warp core. The thrumming blue light of the reactor flared and strobed - but her eyes were focused on the burned out EPS conduits. She walked to one, wobbled. Dizzy. Ignore it. Ignore the itching. Ignore the bloody nose. She grabbed onto the conduits and started to strain. Metal groaned. Plastic grated. The burnt out part came free and Amy staggered backwards, crashing onto her ass, then forced her burning arms to lift up and then slam the new parts in. She wobbled.
Coughed.
Vomited inside of her breather.
Bile.
Amy forced herself to ignore it all. One more part to fix. She snatched up the last component. Got her leg under her...started to fall forward.
No.
She wasn't...going...
Light.
She wasn't going to let her...shipmates...
DOWN!
Light, everywhere, filling the room.
Amy went away.
When she came back, she was on her side, her mask off, vomit and blood drooling onto the capret around her head. Three crewmen in hardsuits were trying to drag her away. Her voice was a woozy mumble. "Dzz...did I do it?"
"Holy shit," one of the crewmen said, as she dragged along the floor. He was the one checking the warp core. "She bent the duranium back in place with her bare fucking hands?"
Amy grinned with gums made red and runny.
Then she was gone.
***
Harry and the lithe mass of muscle that had slammed into him went tumbling into bushes. Harry, trying to remember his self defense classes, ended up on his back, grunting as he blinked up at the woman atop him. She was half Catian - brown skinned, cat eared, one eye bright blue, the other yellow, both slitted. The woman was dressed in a red top and dark red legging, her wild mane of brown hair kept pinned back by a simple headdress, and also, she had claws, claws which swept down and pinned Harry's head to the ground by grabbing onto his hair and shoving.
"Okay, Starfleet," the woman hissed in perfectly understandable Federate. "I'm going to ask you once: Where the fuck are we and how did you bring me here?"
Harry blinked. He was scared, yes. But he was surprised at how he didn't immediately start blabbing. Instead, his brow furrowed, he clenched his jaw, and he said: "You're Maquis."
"What gave it-" the girl's voice was sarcastic, but her eye roll gave Harry a chance to get one knee up. She grunted and rolled away as he pushed back, scrambling to his feet. He panted, then reached back, as if to grab a phaser.
"Put your hands up, you're under arrest!" he said, firmly.
The girl cocked her head, then snorted. "You don't have a phaser," she said.
Harry tensed.
"Okay, but-" he started, about to explain that, in these strange circumstances, they needed to work together.
The Maquis girl had a compelling counterpoint.
It was a rock, in her off hand.
She applied it, with some vigor, to his temple.
***
"Tell me the good news," Janeway said.
D-91, his left arm currently removed due to being too mangled to be workable, sighed. "The warp core is stabilized. We have power again and crews are working on bringing weapons, sensors and the conn back online. We'll be able to limp around, raise shields, and all the other things you want a bat...exploration ship to manage."
Janeway nodded, grimly.
"The bad news is that forty percent of the crew are dead, dozens are missing, and we appear to be in a completely uncharted part of space. We have astrometrics working on figuring out where we are by pulsar charting, but it's going to take a while," D-91 said.
Janeway nodded, then turned to Bian T'are. "And...Julian?"
"Dead," T'are said, her cheeks streaked with tears. She opened her mouth, then closed it. "He...uh...uh...d-died...in..." She trailed off, then closed her eyes.
"T'are..." Janeway said, voice gentle.
"I'm...I'm not fine, Captain. But I can manage," she said. "We've brought the EMH online."
"How does it think our wounded will do?" Janeway asked.
"I-I...I..." T'are trailed off as Janeway put her hand on her the Orion woman's palm. She felt the tingle of Orion pheremones - physical contact always overrode maskers. It...
It was easy, sometimes. To think of Orions as frivolous. Being that they were the most enthusiastically indiscriminate species in the known galaxy - Orions of all genders could and gleefully would engage in every other kind of gender one could imagine. But despite speciest misconceptions...they didn't love shallowly. Quite the opposite. Julian had been T'are's vantru - the direct translation was 'primary sexual partner' but it was a lot closer to spouse in a cultural and emotional perspective.
"You're excused," Janeway said, again, firmly. "Take the time you need. We'll manage."
T'are let out a keening whimper. Nodded. Stood. Fled.
D-91 waited till the door was closed. "Shall I ask the EMH directly?"
"Bring it up," Janeway said, immediately. D-91 tapped the desk in the conference room with their free arm and the screen blipped on a view of the medical bay, where the sour, grim expression of the famous Dr. Lewis Zimmerman appeared on the screen - save it wasn't Zimmerman. It was one of his EMH programs, looking even more sour and even more grim than Zimmerman normally looked. Janeway had met the man three times and found him to be quite possibly the most irritatingly self centered human being she had ever had to share a cocktail party with. But even with that said...she had to admit that the man could program outstanding holographic tools.
"Triage report," Janeway said.
"A please would be appreciated," the EMH said, his voice dry as a Martian riverbed. "Do you want it in complicated medical terms or something short and pithy you can put in a log?"
"...short and pithy," Janeway said, dry for dry.
"Bad," the EMH said. "The medical bay is at half capacity, and ninety percent of that capacity is entirely made up of deceleration injuries. I was under the impression we had inertial dampeners that handled this kind of thing." He shook his head. "The rest are radiation burns and sickness. The worst of that is Lt. Strong."
"How is she?" Janeway asked.
The EMH sighed. "Well, after someone denied her hospice care-"
"We can't lose anyone," Janeway said, firmly.
The EMH inclined his head. "Quite. I'm replicating replacement organs for the ones that have gone necrotic and am running her through various systems that will be keeping her circulatory system functioning. She's been dosed to the aphoristic gills on cell-wall stabilizers and metagentic reinforcements. That is-"
"Medicine that will keep her DNA from coding errors, I know," Janeway said, sighing. "What's her prognosis?"
The EMH considered.
---
CURRENT MOMENTUM: 0
CURRENT SCENE TRUTHS: "Crew hurt, dead & confused"
What IS her prognosis?
[ ] "She's in a coma, but will recover, given time." (Amy has the complications of "medically induced coma" and "anti-cancer meds", but you spend 1 determination to get the 2 successes that she was short on to successfully repair the engine! You have ONE determination per episode!)
[ ] "Well, she's dying. There's a reason I put her on hospice care." (Amy has the complications of "medically induced coma" and "anti-cancer meds" And "will be dead within a week" - this third complication is from succeeding with cost - a rule allowing you to succeed at the cost of a complication)
What's your plan afterward...(you can select multiple ones, if you want!)
[ ] Contact Station?
[ ] Scan area?
[ ] Write In
Also...
[ ] Harry wakes up deeper in the wilderness, where C'Nola dragged him.
[ ] Harry wakes up in one of the buildings in the city, where C'Nola dragged him.
Your roll results: Janeway got 2s for her assistance roll, but thanks to increased complication from using power to buff your roll and increased complication from the structure damage, BOTH of Amy's rolls added +1 complication to the scene. Oops! But 2s, +2s from power means you're within "1 determination" range. But that's going to be a vote!
MY roll results!
Catra gets 2s, while Harry Kim gets 1s, both versus diff 1. Catra succeeds with more momentum, so she applies the grappled condition to Harry Kim, then threatens him. She gets 3s versus his...FOUR! way to go Harry! Catra's got a diff of 1 for her check (she is very scary), so she has 2 momentum, while Harry is facing a diff 2 (he isn't so scary), but he gets 2 momentum as well. Now, this is a tie - active characters win ties, but Catra fails to gain any momentum, meaning while she applies the trait of "Holy shit you're scary" to Harry, she doesn't get any information.
HArry is going to try and break free. He gets 2s, which is enough to break free, but initiative passes back to Catra. She gets 3s on her attack, but Harry (in another shockingly good roll) gets 3s as well! ...but again, aggressive character wins ties, albeit without any momentum. She decides, fuck it, and just punches him. She does 8 damage (OUCH!). Harry, not wanting to take an injury, will avoid the injury by taking a complication. The complication is "captured by Catra."
Lol, actually, you just rolled 4 successes, meaning that the thread can now ask FIVE questions about the surrounding area!
EDIT: Oh, but one fun fact! You can save momentum for later. 1 momentum = one question asked. 2 momentum lets you create an trait that is positive (called an Advantage) if you can narratively justify it.) You can also spend 1 momentum for +1 dice, 2 momentum for another +1 die, and 3 momentum for +1 die (for a total of 6 momentum for +3d20)
So, momentum is good! We like it!
...as a note, you can always gain more momentum, if you want, by giving me threat! Threat is momentum, but for GMs!
"She's in a coma, but will recover, given time," the EMH said, frowning. "I must remind you, this is statistically unlikely. Nine out of ten times-"
Janeway tapped the screen off, turning to D-91. "Well, that's a relief. Lets get to work on astrometrics and scanning. We'll need someone on conn and tactical. Get Kim-"
"Kim's one of the missing," D-91 cut in.
Janeway sighed, leaning back in her chair. "All right."
"And our tactical officers are either dead or injured."
Janeway frowned, drumming her fingers on the desk. "All right then."
***
Tom Paris cracked his knuckles as he settled into the chair. "All right, Captain," he said, cheerfully. "I've got this."
Janeway frowned. "Just put us into a stable orbit to start with, Mr. Paris. T'are, any luck on isolating any ping stations?"
"A few, ma'am, but the universal translator is still working on them," T'are said. Her time alone had given her a chance to focus, and her finger was pressing her ear-piece into her ear more firmly. Her brow knitted and she nodded. "But I can tell, already, there's no majority civilization in local space. Or if there is, they're all hiding."
"Explain," D-91 said.
"Majority civilizations - Federations, Empires, Unions, whatever you want to call them - they all take advantage of subspace and tachyon transmissions for navigation and communication. Everyone encrypts the important stuff, but regular messages for stellar phenomena or mercantilism and the Federation has the biggest ping stations out there, putting out technical and sociological data to anyone who can detect tachyons." She shrugged a bit. "But out here, I'm just picking up a few faint mumbling and a lot of incoherent subwarp radio signals - hallmarks of pre-warp civilizations or warp capable civilizations that just don't have the infrastructure to build and maintain-"
The door to the bridge opened and two people came jogging in. One of them was a gold shirted man with a salt and pepper beard that Janeway recognized as Ensign Shives, who was currently (despite his best efforts) on security command until Lt. Strong recovered. He was flanking a blue suited officer from astrometrics - Lt. Bowers, who was looking...
Terrified.
That was a word.
"Shut down the subspace transmitters!" he said, frantically. "Go dark! We need to go dark now, captain!"
"Why? What is it?" Janeway asked, making a quick, short gesture at Paris, who started to tap controls on the console.
"I've charted our location," Lt. Bowers said. "Well, our direction, at least. We're in the galaxy, and we're...okay, I've found two pulsars that match, their angle and relative positions means we're somewhere, uh..." He stepped to a wall console, touched a few buttons, then turned as the main screen showed a map of the galaxy. The two pulsars were used to outline an area of space that Voyager could be in. "We're anywhere in this area. Now..." He tapped another button.
More than half of that chunk of space filled in with green.
"...that's known Borg territory," Lt. Bowers said.
"Jesus," Tom whispered.
"Ah," Janeway said, quietly.
If they were unlucky, they were currently in the middle of Borg territory. If they were very, very, very lucky, they were on the far side of it, seventy thousand lightyears from home.
"We're dark, Captain," Paris said.
"Good work, Mr. Paris," Janeway said. "Is that station Borg technology?"
"No, sir," T'ara said. "It appears to be a reservoir of massive amounts of psychic energy - a fraction of which is being beamed down to the planetary surface, where it is projected around a dome structure approximately four kilometers in width. The psychic energy is making it impossible to scan through. But the station isn't in geostationary orbit - it should be station keeping but I'm detecting no gravitational or reaction engines keeping it in place...which means that something's keeping it there."
"Telekinesis?" Janeway suggested.
"Plausible, Captain," T'ara said. "There's something else. I've picked up all of our missing crewmembers. They're all localized on that ship...along with fifty six other lifeforms that the Voyager computers have as potential matches for the Maquis we were sent after."
Janeway nodded, slowly. "Well, isn't that interesting."
***
Harry groaned. HIs eyes fluttered open and his cheek felt warm. He blinked and realized that he was laying in a square of sunlight shining down through a narrow window. He groaned, rolled onto his back and into some shadows - and felt his hands compacting against the small of his back. He was bound up, but not seriously - just ties around his wrists. His combadge was missing. Harry lifted his head, crunching his chin against his chest...
And saw his combadge had been ripped to pieces. Those pieces were spread out while the half-Caitian who had ambushed him scowled down at the pieces.
"Hey!" he croaked.
"Well, I got some good news, Starfleet," the half-Caitain said, rolling around fluidly to bring her legs around underneath herself, tucking them down and settling back on her heels. She watched him, her face in shadows and her eyes catching light - bright and shining in the dimness of the room. "No time travel."
"...how can you tell?" Harry asked, honestly curious.
"Cause..." The half-Caitian said, picking up his badge. "This piece of shit isn't working!" She tossed the chunk away from her. "The simulation's granularity doesn't go down to isolinear chips and subquantum processing. Bullshit." She snorted. "But, hey, it's good news for you!"
"I mean, it's good news for both of us, right?" Harry wriggled, rolled onto his side, then managed to shove himself to an upright sitting position - his belly muscles tightening as he essentially did a crunch like he was back in gym. He crossed his legs. "Simulations are better than time travel - no chance to ruin the past or...get eaten by...I don't know. Space bats. Langoliers."
"What?" she laughed.
"Old book, nevermind," Harry said, shaking his head.
"No, you idiot," the half-Caitian said, then grinned, showing off her sharp, sharp canines. "The reason why it's good news for you is a rock to the head isn't a stun setting in real life."
Harry considered that.
"...true," he said.
---
CURRENT MOMENTUM: 1
CURRENT SCENE TRUTHS: (on ship) "Crew hurt, dead & confused", (away mission) "It's a faaaaaake!"
Well, now we've got some news! I mean, it's all bad news, but...still! What does Harry do?
[ ] Try and befriend this Maquis catgirl
[ ] Try and escape
[ ] Grudging cooperation - you may not like me, I may not like you, but we can work together to try and escape.
[ ] Write in
And on ship?
[ ] Open very careful communications with the Array
[ ] Away mission down to the dome!
[ ] Try and beam the crew off the station and back to your ship
[ ] Write In
"Shut up," the catgirl said, before she stood up and started to rap her knuckles on the wall, cocking her head and listening to the echoes. She so pointedly ignored him that Harry felt like there was an active cone of silence activated around her.
Harry sighed, then leaned his head back against the wall.
This was going to be a fun away mission, wasn't it?
---
"T'ara, I want that station to be on the line. Lets see if we can talk our way out of this," Janeway said, firmly. "Mr. Paris, be ready to bring the shields and the phasers online the instant anything looks like it might be dangerous..." She frowned.
"You are aware that if we get into a battle, the patch job on the engine isn't going to hold," D-91 murmured to Janeway. "If we take a single shot to the engine - or even moderate damage to the superstructure..."
"I know," Janeway said, nodding. "That's why we're talking first. And...if we get into a fight, we'll be fighting to win hard and fast."
D-91 nodded.
"The quantums are ready, then."
"I've managed to connect with their systems...universal translator is working...we're good," T'ara said, as the screen flicked on and the tenth oddest thing Janeway had ever seen appeared on the viewscreen.
"Is that a cowboy?" Ensign Shives whispered.
"That it is, Ensign," Captain Janeway said as she stood and eyed the blue and pink jacket with yellow highlights in glittering tassels, brightly spangled show cowboy that was standing in the viewscreen, wearing a broad brimmed cowboy hat. He flicked it and smiled at her.
"Why, howdy there, pardner," the cowboy said, his drawl thick and easy. "Sorry 'bout wrasslin you over here so rough-like, but I was in a mighty need of, ah, new heads fer the pasture."
"Sir, I think your psychic analysis of our mindset is miscalibarted," Janeway said. "You currently appear to be six centuries out of date with current norms and customs."
"Well, ain't that just a kick in the teeth!" the cowboy said. He shimmered. Glowed. Then was replaced by a man in a slick, 21st or 22nd century suit - no, no. Had to be 21st, he wasn't covered in ash or tatters, which was the style immediately following the Eugenics War. He looked more serious. "We would like to extend our apology towards you and your corporation - the employees we have temporarily hired on are important and required for the continual survival of the species that we are caretaking."
"You're still a little out of date but...parseable," Janeway said, frowning. "Among my people, taking members of a corporation - we call it a crew - is seen as a hostile act."
"Hostility? No." He paused. "Well, a little. But I am willing to exchange - if your crew have the required components, then I will be happy to repair your ship and send you home." He smiled, slightly. "We're still examining them to determine their fitness."
"...components," Janeway said, slowly.
"Yes, for the Array," the business man said, chuckling. "The Array exists to protect and sustain the Okampa corporation and my corporeal existence. The Okampa are a primitive civilization that I've chosen to Caretake - I protect them and, in exchange, they provide me with psychic energy. It's a voluntary and cooperative system." He beams, clearly happy to give the sales pitch. Janeway wasn't entirely sure if that was because he was using the psychic echo of a 21st century businessman or if it was because he was just kind of a smug prick innately. "For a sliver of their psychic energy, each Okampa lives a life of comfort and peace and I am able to sustain myself and protect them. But...the Array is beginning to degrade due to repeated attacks and harrying efforts by hostile aliens in the local space, who all want my technology."
"I see," Janeway said, slowly.
"I hope to replace certain biological systems with more...robust ones," the...Caretaker, she supposed he had to be called, explained. "Local states have made it overwhelmingly clear that they will show hostility if I engage in any large scale sampling of their populations - so I've needed to cast my net a touch wider. I'm surprised I got you, though, you're quite a bit further than my nominal range." His eyes unfocused. "Ahhh, I see, there was an amplifying effect caused by the region of space you were in - like a focusing lens on a magnifying glass." He nodded, a bit. "Burned out a few more than I intended, but...such is life."
Janeway crossed her arms over her chest. "We are willing to work with you to try and solve this problem, on the grounds that you immediately return all of our crew."
The Caretaker considered that. "I haven't...finished my examinations..." He said, quietly. "But your ship is highly advanced..." He rubbed his chin. "All right. Your crew will be returned immediately. Do you want your secondary ship crew back as well?"
"Yes," Janeway said, without missing a beat.
"Done!"
---
The catgirl pressed her ear to the wall, rapped on it again.
"What exactly are you trying to do?" Harry asked.
"Simulations all have their flaws. We just need to find where the coding breaks down, then..." She paused. "You ever seen The Matrix?"
"No," Harry said.
"Well, firstly-"
-bink-
Harry found himself standing in what was clearly Cargo Bay A of the Voyager, surrounded by a collection of very confused Starfleet officers and a motley collection of civilians. The one nearest to him wasn't even the catgirl. It was a black skinned Vulcan, who raised a single eyebrow as he gazed around himself. "It appears that the Starfleet ship chasing us has managed to recover us from the simulation," he said, quietly.
"That does seem to be the c-" The man who had started speaking - a dark skinned, black haired human with a whimsical smile on his face - froze at the sound of a cry of confusion.
"Hands up! Hannnnnnnds up!"
Okay, there was the catgirl.
She had stolen a phase from one of the armed Starfleet officers and was aiming it at a majority of Starfleet crew. "All right, everyone, hands up, I have this thing on stun and AOE, so, you know. I can just stun you all and let god sort it out."
"Nola!" the brown haired man said, striding towards her. "What are you doing?"
"Uh, taking captives, Brian," she said, like he was an idiot. "So we can negotiate from a position of strength."
Brian snorted. "Nola, you need to remember - work with people - if they had rushed you, you couldn't stun all of them." He stepped over to a still confused and 'trying to figure this out' Starfleet security crewman was opening her mouth, clearly about to speak. He snatched her phaser from her holster, then gently prodded her back. "Okay, listen, we're all going to be playing nice - stun setting. But we're not about to go to jail without at least trying."
Harry blinked. The Maquis were beginning to work as a unit to disarm the confused Starfleet men and women. He was one of the few Starfleet officers not completely discombobulated - he wondered what their simulations had been like, or how unexpected the transition had been. He saw a security officer next to him shifting to stand behind a woman from engineering - and his hand was dropping to his phaser.
---
Janeway, D-91 and T'ara all exchanged glances from where they were huddled around the security station. "We need to make sure our crew drill more on boarding actions," Janeway said, quietly. "Paris, their ship has to be in the area."
"Found it, Captain," Paris said. "It's at the L1 point." He scowled. "Their ship's superstructure looks almost intact - but their engine is reading at emergency power levels, I think it auto-shutdown to avoid threatening a breach. Their weapon arrays are all busted, but it's mostly external damage."
"So, fixable?" T'ara asked, nervously.
"Yeah," Paris said. "Captain, they'd be able to take us in a fight if they got their engine and weapons fixed."
"Good thing they're on our ship then," Janeway muttered.
---
CURRENT MOMENTUM: 1
CURRENT SCENE TRUTHS: (on ship) "Crew hurt, dead & confused"
What Harry do?
[ ] Don't do it, man. Lets keep things peaceful and go along with them for now.
[ ] Provide distraction. A phaser on wide angle stun can take out most of the Maquis now that they're bunched up!
[ ] Write In
Janeway and bridge crew are observing this...what do they do?
[ ] "Brian Wacoche, this is Captain Janeway speaking. You will immediately lay down arms or we will take you down by force."
[ ] "Brian Wacoche, this is Captain Janeway - we appear to be seventy thousand light years from home and we have detected your ship - you're just as beaten up as we are. We need to work together. No one's going to any prison now, so aiming guns at people is pointless and silly."
[ ] Write In
Catra takes control of the situation, rolls a 2 and 1, with 4 successes. She done did it!
So, you may be asking: Why do we only have 1 momentum? We rolled 4s versus a diff of 2! Shouldn't we have 3? I, callously and cruelly, spent 2 of your momentum to ask the questions that were answered during the conversation with the Caretaker. You're welcome =^_^=
Now, lets SHOOT THE SHIT OUT OF THE VAL JEAN!
They get hit by 10 damage and 6 effects, doing 10/5 (x6) damage, with the pew pew getting 2 momentum, which will (like on Voy) be used to reduce Resistance. But the Val Jean had only 2 resistance! Soooooo, that means it takes 10/5(x6) damage, meaning it is dropped from 5 to 1! So, it takes 9/4(x6) damage, which actually means it takes 1 breach from the first hit (shields drop from 12 to 3, but the damage is 5+), then the second does one breach (shields hit 0), and then each one does 1 breach (doing damage post shields.) If they had had just ONE LESS resistance, they'd be taking 6 more breaches! ...still, that's 7 breaches!
They take 3 breaches to the weapons and 3 breaches to the engine! Their warp core is losing power and is offline, but is EMINENTLY fixable - only diff 3 versus your diff 6. Meanwhile, their weapons are offline and take a diff 4 check to fix. On the whole, they're better off than you through sheer luck in the damage dice roll!
Harry put his hand on the man's shoulder. "Don't do it," he whispered. "Lets keep things peaceful and go along with them for now."
The man tensed, his jaw tight - but the hesitation was enough for one of the Maquis, a half-klingon woman who looked ready to break limbs and shatter jaws, to step over and snatch the phaser out of his holster, then shove him back a bit. "Yeah, don't try it," she said, her voice tight.
"All right, everyone," Wacoche said, his voice rising above the murmuring. "Lets all remain calm."
The PA buzzed and crackled. Janeway's voice came over it. "Brian Wacoche, this is Captain Janeway. Can you hear me?"
"Yes, I can," Wacoche said, his entire bearing relaxed and calm - as if he held Starfleet officers at gunpoint at any time. "I don't want to hurt anyone - we're all basically on the same side here, after all. I just interpret certain Starfleet regulations, visa vi sentient rights and standing up to fascism a bit more broadly than the standard."
Janeway chuckled. "You're more right than you know, Wacoche. We are not in the Alpha Quadrent. Something has dragged us seventy thousand light years off course - and both of our ships have sustained serious damage. We need to work together. No one is going to prison now, so aiming guns at people is pointless and silly."
Wacoche frowned. He lowered the point of his phaser. "All right, Tuvoc, Nola, one out of ten on bullshit?"
"It is too outlandish a lie to be easily believed, lending it additional credence," the Vulcan said - confirming his name at least.
"Sounds like bullshit, Brian," Nola said.
Brian sighed. "Why do I ever ask you two anything," he mutters, quietly.
"Cause I'm hot," Nola said, winking.
"Nola's physical appearance notwithstanding, we have the widest variance in perspective opinions," Tuvok said, his voice dry. "As Captain, you are the one who must navigate the possibility space we operate in."
Brian frowned, thinking.
That was when the ship went to red alert.
---
"They're bearing down on us, straight out of warp, full impulse, attack vectors," Paris said, his fingers playing along the console. "We have engine power back to maximum, but we take one good hit-"
"I'm aware of that, Mr. Paris," Janeway said. "Hail them."
The two ships were angular and fast, about half the size of the Voyager individually, but they were already launching what appeared to be parasite vehicles, V shaped craft that seemed to be a single nacelle, bulky shield emitters on the nose, and some kind of energy projector on the nose. They were all relatively crude looking - weather worn and scarred by exposure to space, with bright purple and green colors painted on them. The nacelles also were bleeding off tachyon particles into nearby spacetime, leaving behind excited contrails of shimmering quantum foam that cut through space like searing neon lines drawn on black paper.
The screen blipped on. A woman with short green hair, bright orange skin, and a grizzled, scarred face looked out from her strapped down command chair. It was the kind of straps you'd use if you didn't trust your inertial dampeners. Her voice was blunt. "Unidentified starship, prepare to stand down and be evacuated. Transmit the location of your origin point to us and we shall have the Sect Nistrim there to save you from yourselves."
"Save us? From what?"
"The Takers, you fucking idiot," the woman snapped. "How the fuck did you get a ship this advanced into orbit without spotting the fuckers."
"The...Takers," Janeway said.
"Whatever you call them, you have to know them, which leads me to think you're another Singularity chasing bunch of assholes. Show you're not by dropping your shields at once or else we will open fire," the woman said.
"...the Borg," T'ara said, suddenly. "That's one of the possibilities the universal translator is throwing up for Takers."
"We are aware of the Borg," Janeway said, quickly. "If they are your enemy, then we are allies."
"If we're your allies then we've already been fettered to a corpse," the woman said.
"Captain, they're within torpedo range," Paris said.
"Drop your shields and prepare for evacuation. We shall relocate you to a M-class planet and then bring your home civilization to safe levels of technology. It's for your own good." The woman said, then cut the link - the incoming ships approaching at terrifying speeds...with their parasite vehicles launched, they had gone from two ships to ten, and they looked organized.
---
CURRENT MOMENTUM: 0
CURRENT SCENE TRUTHS: (on ship) "Crew hurt, dead & confused"
What do?
[ ] Try and negotiate - send them our origin point, they'll realize that we're not going to bring the Borg down on their heads.
[ ] We can't risk them firing on us, not with our ship in this condition, and we cannot allow our crew to be at their mercy. Bring about, full power to phasers.
Also...
[ ] Offer Maquis crew battlefield promotions (removes the "crew hurt, dead & confused" truth, but adds "partial maquis crew" trait to your ship - note, traits are PERMANENT, unlike truths.)
[ ] Keep them in the hold for now.
