[Caymen Greener]

Alright Trekkies, the stories have been written and the submissions handed to me. Now it's time to vote. Please peruse the logistical items below and vote accordingly. Voting will end February 14th and the winner will be revealed shortly after that.

Basics
Please read the replies in this thread thoroughly. Pick your favorite and vote accordingly. You will have until Friday, February 14th to vote on these stories, after which a winner will be decided.

Other than blatant spelling errors, the writing has been left in tact by the author. Some character names were changed to avoid giving away the author (these may be changed back after voting is complete).

Winner
Once voting has completed, I will tally the final vote and the winner will be revealed. This will happen via a News feature during the last half of the month. Fame, glory, and complete awesomeness will accompany for fellow community member who wins!

Good luck authors!

[Caymen Greener]

The Three Scotch Problem
Time Period: Year 2379, Stardate 56844.9

"Scotch, Johnnie Walker Black… with Soda" said Captain Randolph Blücher calmly, as he advanced towards the replicator with a slight limp, to grasp the crystallised glass in his right hand. "I don't want to hear that it cannot be done, Lt Commander!" he exploded in his deep booming voice. I froze in fright, to only be shocked into movement, with the roar "Dismissed!"

The Galaxy Class Retrofit U.S.S. Baker Street was 14 months into its 7 year deep exploration mission, which had the whole crew overworked, and me on edge. The halls filled with engineers rushing from one maintenance job to another, security teams running to the holodecks to take part in yet another training scenario. Captain Blücher was a Machiavellian leader, a man who understood the old rule; it is better to be feared than liked, assuming that one cannot be both feared and liked. He warmed to the concept of his crew being prepared and ready no matter what the situation may entail. He stood at a tall height of 6ft 3 inches, cropped blonde hair, bushy but trimmed beard and a slight limp in his left leg; result of a near fatal hiking accident. He held all the knowledge crucial for a Starfleet Captain with an added interest in Philosophy, Politics, History and Classical Literature. He had the voice to strike fear into any man be it a Vulcan who had believed fear to be illogical, all the way to a giant scared Nausicaan Pirate. With a combination of deep booming bellows to soothing whispers; he had the vocal range of an operatic tenor.

It was Stardate 56844.9. I was awoken to go to a room on the starboard side of the ship deck 8, for someone had been murdered, with no record of Holovid surveillance, or forced entry. I was met on arrival by the Captain who scolded at me "I'll take over here Lt Commander", this is when I found the courage to say "I'm Head of security" to only notice that I had screeched in a stutter at the Captain. He calmly responded "I'll allow you to assist", he then sprang forward with such impeccable energy to cover the room like a giant blanket. To then focus all his attention on the murdered victim. He circled the victim slowly, to then stop and focus on all the lacerations. The victim was a 21 year old human ensign of engineering, Issur Danielovitch, he was destined to do wonderful things; top of his class in Warp Theory Mechanics and Quantum Theory. The Captain recorded into a Dictaphone "Ensign Danielovitch. Severe facial lacerations, extensive chest stabbings. A bloody mess. The murderer seemed to be in a violent rage, leading with his right hand, thus resulting in the current condition of the corpse. The stabbings and slashes leading in an orthodox pattern". I asked in query "Captain, do you think this was a spontaneous crime?" He groaned in response and went on to analyse the rest of the room. He observed a note on the table, a riddle, it read "You may think I am love, you may think I am death. I am the petal of blood, the stem of old Kings. The Iron grasp of Social Revolution will arise. In my name and appearance" the Captain paced forwards and backwards to only respond "How Juvenile. It's a Rose". I grasped "How?" In which he responded "Rose is commonly associated with love, and also death. The petal, an integral part of the flower, blood relating the previous point. The Stem of Old Kings is a reference to the Tudor Rose. Then the Rose being an international symbol of both the labour movement and the call of socialism with the connotations of Iron Grasp and well he dully mentioned Social Revolution… juvenile. Obvious political motivation". Whilst striding to the door he said "Lt Commander, I have deduced all I can here. Notify me as soon as you hear of another incident. I also want security doubled up on all important personnel."

Several months had passed, no incident. Security was overworked and I was exhausted. We were searching all 42 decks of the Baker Street, including the Jefferies tubes. Captain Blücher didn't want to send a report to the parents until he could tell them that the one responsible had faced justice. We then received an emergency response call to one of the cargo bays. I lead the security team, entering, to be confronted by this foul burning stench and fumes, to then look over to witness two badly burnt bodies with 20th century rubber tyres wrapped around the torso, legs, and neck of both victims. I felt extreme sickness and light headedness partially from the image of the act, which must have taken place, and partially as a result of the fumes, which my scanner had informed me was Petroleum. After I had recovered my senses with some replicated sniffing salts, I had immediately sent a message over the comm to Captain Blücher. Then we waited outside for his arrival. On arrival he turned and looked at me slouching against the wall, he bitterly muttered "If you aspire to be competent in that position of yours; you will do good to strengthen your stomach, gain some fortitude and repress your emotion", he then advanced through the doors. I took a deep breath placing my hands on my bent knees, with my head facing the floor, looking at my feet. I then quickly stood straight and followed the Captain in. He walked straight towards the corpses, stating that it is a further reference to the previous murder, with the rose riddle referencing the old 19th century political philosophy of Socialism, and now the murder being based on the 20th century form of public execution titled ‘Necklacing' performed by the ANC in South Africa, Earth. Captain Blücher looked inside the tyre to find another note (made from paper) stuck to the neck tyre of one the corpses, "The murderer, watched them die. As the fire was going out he placed the note on the cooling tyre so it would stick yet not damage what was written. A severe specimen of narcissistic sadism" the Captain remarked. I carefully removed the note from the tyre with a precision phaser beam and read "My profession is Knowledge, mathematics and ingenuity. I contrive to devise, for the time of Libra and Scorpio. I severe every link with social order, with the civilised world. I am heart and soul, not merely by word, but by action. I may not elevate to the crown, though I shall consume the greater individual. Come catch me, if you can." The Captain brushed his beard repeatedly with his right hand, paused, continued and then said "We have quite the three scotch problem. I will need time to deduce, come to my ready room in one hour."

On entrance to the ready room, I saw Captain Blücher sitting in his old leather button back armchair with a scotch and soda firmly gripped in his right hand, a bottle of replicated Johnnie Walker Black label beside him on his side table. His eyes wandered to me as I entered. He knocked the glass back, pouring the rest of its contents into his mouth, rising in a jump, to then boldly state "I want you to look into arresting abnormally short engineers!" I responded "excuse me?" assuming that the captain was suffering from severe alcohol intoxication. He said "The murderer was too arrogant, he gave too much information away. His motivation is simple, it's political with the rose riddle, and then the confirmation of Libra and Scorpio in the most recent riddle referencing the month of October – the month of the Russian Revolution and then subsequently the Hungarian. His occupation was more complex. Knowledge, mathematics and ingenuity – Engineering is the application of such fields. Contrive to devise – loose Latin translation to ingeniare." I then asked "Why Abnormally short?" He boldly responded "The second to last sentence is a subtle narcissistic mood swing, trying to overcome his shortness. Elevate to the crown, being height" In which I responded "Fascinating, the Murderer has severe narcissistic qualities, socialist revolutionary tendencies and a napoleon complex". I went to my office put searches through the computer of Engineers all shorter than the ship average of 5ft 10 inches, I went with the most prominent at 5ft 6 inches Lt Jr Felix Moore. I looked up his psych test details, did not appear to be completely out of the norm. Showed some attitude problems, which was listed why he did not advance to the Rank of Lieutenant, when he otherwise showed the skill to. Otherwise completely clean. Despite this I thought I would go and speak to the lieutenant. I went to his quarters (located on the portside, deck7) knocked twice, to no response. I ordered the computer to open the door, to only receive "Order cannot comply". This had arisen my speculation, I ordered security to search for Lieutenant Jr Felix Moore. Ordered the Engineering team to override the commands for the door. As I entered a holovideo automatically played a recorded message of the Lieutenant announcing that he had killed the Captain and everyone on the ship with the destruction of the life support system and a warp core breach. Though I had personally believed that he would have wanted to deal with the captain personally, as a need for his ego. I ordered the security team to engineering, as I rushed to the Captains ready room taking the elevator straight to the bridge. To witness a short and weedy walk little man march into the Captains ready room pulling out a self-made phaser, to then shout "Death to the Tsar!" in which I rushed forward pulling out my phaser (set to stun) and fired at him directly in the back. Hitting and stunning him. The Captain who was at this stage fists raised walking towards him growling like a bear protecting its young, looked on with surprise as Felix was falling to the ground, to then look at me laugh, and comment "Lt.Commander, your timing is impeccable".

[Caymen Greener]

We Stand Together
Time Period: Year 2418

I have never felt so afraid, I have watched many people die at the hands of the Borg, but never on this scale. I watched Earth get assimilated, and all I could do was save my ship and crew, hundreds upon hundreds of cubes swarming the planet and our defences – and there was nothing I could do. The entire Federation is gone, I am now the commander of all that is left of Starfleet, and the Federation – 634 Starfleet vessels, and 532 civilian vessels, travelling through what was once Federation territory at a snail's pace.

Half of the civilian ships can't go faster than warp 4, and so our trip away from this area of space has been long and hard. Amongst this fleet, there are only, approx., 250,000 Federation citizens, out of trillions that once enjoyed the many benefits of Federation membership – all gone, in a matter of weeks…

Now, the only hope is a desperate assault – on the other side of this door, is every Captain of every Starfleet ship in the fleet, and I have to give them a choice. It's either a mission with almost 0% chance of success, or a long treacherous journey out of Federation territory, constantly praying the Borg won't find us – I am having a hard time dealing with this situation, and yet their fate rests in my hands.

However, I must appear strong, I took a deep breath and stepped closer to the door and watched it open, and every voice in the room suddenly go silent as I walk to the middle console – I glance around at all the faces in the room, most seem scared out of their minds, I certainly am. Whilst their response was delayed, they did come to attention.

"At ease" I tapped on the control pad that was on the table, which activated a 3D holographic image of our target.

"As you may be aware, this is how the Borg have overrun our part of the galaxy so quickly – a transwarp gate" I took a short breath whilst I looked round at all the Captains, "If there is any chance to stop the Borg, we must take it out, along with the entire unimatrix that is now surrounding it"

"This gate, is protected by the majority of the Borg armada that invaded this quadrant, but they don't know we are coming", I tapped on the console once again, changing the view to a strategic map of the sector, "our plan is to, along with the Klingon and Romulan forces, engage the Borg in a full frontal assault and send everything we have to the transwarp gate."

I looked round, all the captains were looking at one another, with a look of confusion and mistrust – I was expecting no less.

"I know that this mission is a long shot, we are tired, we have all lost people we cared about, friends, family and I know that each and every one of us, wants it to stop. This is the only way", the holographic display changed to an energy reading around the gates superstructure.

"According to the scans taken by our probe before it was destroyed, there is some form of subspace link between every Borg ship in the quadrant, and this structure – we have no idea why – but it has been suggested that the superstructure around the transwarp gate, acts as a large distribution node, which allows the transfer of data significantly faster, and thus allows the entire collective to adapt to our weapons faster than ever before"

I could hardly believe the idea myself, but it had to be the only logical explanation for transphasic torpedoes, as well as Infinity Modulators, being adapted to so quickly. But this would be the Borgs major weakness, if the attack was successful they would be stopped – the Klingon Empire, and the Romulan Empire cannot hold off the Borg, especially after the overwhelming rush through our territory.

"As we are outnumbered 10 to 1, even with the Romulans and Klingons, this mission is purely voluntary: the civilian fleet, along with everyone who doesn't want to join the Leviathan in this assault, will proceed to the Bajoran wormhole, and retreat to the Gamma Quadrant – so who will volunteer for this assault?"

My heart stopped, I looked around and no one moved, for what felt like an eternity, no matter what I would be taking the Leviathan – the largest and most advanced ship Starfleet ever built, for the sole purpose of fighting the Borg – into the unimatrix in the vain attempt to destroy the Borg stronghold.

One captain stood up, and that was all it took, everyone in the room, one by one they all volunteered until everyone was standing. At that moment, it hit me, with this determination and desire, we can defeat the Borg, and create a future for ourselves – we must stand.

I smiled, and tried to figure out what to say, "With all of you by my side, we cannot be defeated – however, some of you will be staying with the civilian fleet, I cannot leave the fleet unprotected as they would have a very small chance of survival," behind me the door I came through opened, but I continued, "Now, the main plan will be to drop out of warp as late as possible and –"

The officer who entered, tapped me on the shoulder and handed me a padd, with it an intelligence report. After reading the contents, I became lost for words… I then handed the padd back to the young ensign, who clearly read the message by the expression on his face.

I looked up to all the captains, who waited for the news with bated breath:

"The Borg are on a full retreat… every ship in the entire quadrant is now making its way to the transwarp gate – and will arrive at the gate within 4 days, but the Klingons and Romulans will not get here in time, so we are going at it alone…" I didn't realise that I could be more scared than I already was, what was now a slim chance at victory is now an impossibility.

"If anyone wishes to bow out, now is your chance" No one moved, everyone stayed for the final section of the briefing.

"Once we arrive at the unimatrix, we will all proceed towards the gate and anyone who makes it through will use 2 tricobalt devices, which have been upgraded by my engineer, to produce an explosion which will most likely encompass the entire unimatrix – so once you get in range, fire the torpedoes and run like hell!" Whilst I was scared out of my mind, I was happy to see that everyone was still confident in their resolve.

"Now that is the briefing, as the Borg are on the move we will be departing in an hour – the captains of the ships that will stay with the civilian fleet, will be contacted in 30 minutes, prepare your ships, prepare your crew and good luck. Dismissed."

Everyone stood up, and as they walked out of the room, I watched each and every one of them. Most of them, knowing that this will be the last chance they will see each other again, but they all know that we must attack.

The door closed behind me, and in sudden rage, I smashed the console - somehow the Borg know we are coming, why, how.... but there is nothing I can do, we must proceed, but i don't think we can do this. I gathered my senses, turned round, and walked out the door.

As I proceeded towards the bridge, I looked around at my crew and wondered whether this would be one of the last times I would ever see them – but no matter what we must win, we cannot fail; we stand together.

[Caymen Greener]

The Fire in Which We Burn
Time Period: Dominion War

Her eyes flickered open. The veil of darkness was pierced only by intermittent sparks and the flickering of the LCARS panels from which they originated. Tentatively, she drew herself up from the floor and began to survey the damage.

Captain Evangeline Larrenson had always been considered by her peers to be stalwart, stoic and unwavering in the face of even the most horrific of situations. To be in command of a Miranda class vessel at the height of the Dominion War required her to be so; she, and by proxy her crew, had garnered a reputation as being brave to the point of recklessness and fearless in the face of death. Even the name of her ship, the Audacious, echoed this characteristic and this point had not gone unnoticed by those who served under her. The young men and women who together formed the bridge crew of the Audacious had held Larrenson as much in fear as they had done in awe; her orders were law and she demanded unquestioning loyalty, yet despite this unrelentingly abrasive, distant and seemingly cold personality, they had respected her as a strong maternal figure.

As her eyes adjusted to the dimness of her surroundings, she began to discern the layout of the bridge which she had spent three years serving on. The once pristine bridge she had known was gone. She was instead confronted with a scene of devastation; shattered glass coated the floor like a morning frost on grass, smoke billowed from blown out control panels around the room and debris was scattered throughout. It was then that she was hit by the sudden realisation. Those same young and fresh faced officers who had served under her command for the past year and a half were scattered across the bridge in various levels of disarray, all of them motionless. She had lost crewmen before, but never on such a scale.

The cold grasp of shock took its hold and momentarily she was nearly as still as the officers who lay around her. Even her loyal first officer, the person she was closest too aboard the Audacious, was among the familiar faces she picked out from across the room. "No time for grief, do your duty", she thought to herself. She jolted towards the helm only to keel over in pain the first step she took, the return of her clarity of mind also heralded a sensation of agony which emanated from her midriff. Her hand instinctively shot to grasp the pain, only to be ripped away swiftly at the tenderness it encountered; she felt the warm, clinging dampness of blood. The ship suddenly groaned and the floor went out from underneath her. Phaser fire. They were still there, they were still a part of Operation Return. Pulling herself back to her feet yet again, Captain Larrenson lurched towards the helm in an attempt to take manual control of her ship. She was relieved to find the view screen in working order, but this relief was overshadowed by what the view screen showed her; the flotsam and jetsam of the battle arced across her field of vision and the opposing Jem'Hadar and Cardassian fleet was heavily engaged with the Federation Task Force.

A tangible rumble passed through the ship and the USS Defiant flanked by the Majestic and the Sitak roared overhead and punched straight into the Dominion formation, followed closely by a vast array of Federation vessels. As they drew away into the distance, Larrenson witnessed the destruction of both the Majestic and the Sitak, both succumbing to intense phaser fire. She would not sit idly by and watch as her Federation counterparts fought for their lives. Weapons and shields were offline, the air was becoming noticeably thin, blood seeped from her chest wound and her eyelids were becoming heavy. She knew her death was inevitable, but the manner in which she met it was still entirely in her control. Her eyes roved the battle for viable targets and they came to rest on the Galor which had just moments before blown a hole through the saucer section of the Majestic. "A beautiful irony", she exclaimed to her absent crew, "It was an honour to serve with you all". And with that, she slowly angled the Audacious, which was under heavy fire, towards the offending Galor, which was preoccupied with a wing of fighters, transferred all available power to impulse engines and punched in a collision course.

As the Audacious careened peacefully through the battle which encompassed it towards its final destination, Larrenson took one last look around her home and at her family. She was proud of them, despite not having voiced this to them often enough. She limped over to the Captains chair and tenderly seated herself. The Galor was quickly growing on the view screen yet she felt no fear; a comforting warmth passed over her and her vision became murky. She thought only one thing:

"In the morning glad I see
My foe outstretched beneath the tree."

With that final thought, Captain Larrenson of the USS Audacious fell into unconsciousness and never awoke to find out what had become of the Galor, Operation Return or the Audacious.

Epilogue

His eyes flickered open. Dust filled his lungs and swirled all around him, his head span as his vision began to wane and a bright light filled his eyes as he was dragged from the blaring heat of on out of control fire. He lost consciousness as the medics prepared him for emergency transport and unbeknownst to him he spent the next few days in a medically induced coma in the sickbay aboard the USS Farragut.

He woke what seemed to him to be moments later, surrounded by a multitude of other bedridden strangers in a sickbay which was unfamiliar to him. Commander Charles Blake could not recall how he had got to where he was now from the dark maelstrom of a room he had found himself in, nor could he understand how he had arrived in that dark ruin from the bridge of the Audacious in the first place. He intended to find out.


The Fire in Which We Burn, is the first in what is intended to be a series of short stories which take place during the Dominion War.

[Caymen Greener]

Wine, Women, and Song
Time Period: Star Trek Online (2409)

The transporter effect released her and the warm air of Risa immediately took over; the mild humidity and warm air replaced the colder and temperature controled air of the shipboard life she was so used to. She found the effect to be rather irritating, which did nothing to help her mood. The idea of her, and her entire ship, being sent off mission to go speak to her brother did not sit well with her.

Looking across the sandy beach, Carolynn Kroller spotted one of the resort staff. A beautiful Risian woman stood clad in a simple swimsuit and carrying a dataslate, smiled in her direction, and walked towards her.

As she stepped towards her and smiled, "Welcome to Risa! What is ours is yours!"

"I am Captain Carolynn Kroller…" She began.

"Oh, are you related to The Kroller?" She looked almost excited, like she was meeting someone famous like Ambassador Picard or Captain Data. "Starfleet alerted us to your imminent arrival!"

Carolynn sighed inward; everywhere she went it was the same story. "Yes, I'm related to Derrick Kroller. I tend to drop the 'The' and simply stick with my given name."

The Risian attendant nodded and began walking down the beach. "I don't know where he is exactly, but I know he has his regular spot reserved. You could wait there and I'm sure he would be along shortly..."

Pointing towards a deck chair surrounded by native statuary and covered by several beach umbrellas, and discarded frond fans. The table beside his chair was filled with empty glasses, standing evidence of the duration of his stay. A small folded sign saying [I]Reserved for The Kroller[/L] sat in the chair.

"He does realize he only needs a single Horga'hn to alert us to his interest in seeking jamaharon?"

The sigh was heavy and well-practiced; this was definitely her brother's spot. Risians pride themselves on being able to read the mood off any of their visitors, and the attendant was no different, seeing this as a moment to leave Carolynn to wait for her brother's return.

A few minutes later, a rather inebriated Derrick Kroller sauntered out of the resort, an arm wrapped casually around a scantily clad Andorian woman. Carolynn glared at them, a look completely lost on Derrick, but the young lady took the hint. She kissed Derrick on the cheek as she helped him into his deck chair and walked away.

Derrick kept his sunglasses on, grabbed a glass and continued to drink. Carolynn crossed her arms and balanced her weight on one leg, lightly tapping her other foot as she glared down at him.

"You want a drink?" He eventually asked.

She wouldn't rise to the bait, she had this discussion often enough to know the ‘shared drink' routine. She instead pulled a chair over and sat down on the edge, leaning over and watching him.

"So… who was that?" She asked.

"The blue lady? Ammi… ayoni… something Shon I think she said. "He waved idly while he sipped on his drink, hand holding his forehead.

"I do hope you don't mean Alani Shon, the captain of the Enterprise's sister…"

Carolynn shook her head, having fallen for another pitfall that would lead to a discussion not pertinent to her visit on Risa.

"Derrick, you know why I'm here." She said quietly, "They want to know what your plans are."

"They know my plans… I gave them to my Personnel Officer when I joined Starfleet…"

"Wine, women, and song hardly constitute a career plan."

"I dunno, it seems to have worked thus far." He sat up and raised his sunglasses. "Carol, I just need some time. They know I'll be back, they just don't like that answer."

"And so you quit?"

"No, no, no." he shook his head and winced at the poor choice of action, "quitting is not an option. I had my CMO and Supply Officer mix my dockets up."

"… I have no idea what that even means…" She spoke before thinking.

"Due to an incredibly unexplainable mix-up, a very fine cheese is currently in command of the Corvus." He smiled and put his sunglasses in place as he leaned back into his chair. "And its commanding officer was part of a shipment bound for Risa. I have been assured it will take many months to sort out. "

"This isn't a joke Derrick!" Carolynn proclaimed as she stood up, "Command of a starship is an incredibly important responsibility! You can't just blow it off like this and place your ship in command of those who are not of a certain quality!"

"I have also been assured it is a very fine brie…"

Venting her breath in exasperation Carolynn turned and marched away, certain Derrick Kroller would return to duty exactly when Derrick Kroller was ready.

[Caymen Greener]

A Journey Begins
Time Period: Star Trek Online (2409)

It was a cold morning. Fresh snow had fallen across the landscape, covering everything within sight with a thick layer white. As he walked across the terrain, he took note that the loud crunching sounds made by his footsteps would give away his approach and jeopardy any chance of "sneaking up" on his quarry. Given that stealth was not necessary with his present mission, as his presence being known would have little impact on the outcome, he continued to move forward, crunching through the snow.

At the crest of a hill, he stopped momentarily to look across the area in hopes of finding his target. Seeing what he thought was smoke in the distance, he stepped forward to resume his journey...and slipped.

Down the hill he tumbled, kicking up snow and dirt as he continued his fall. Several times he attempted to stop his descent only to be pushed forward by the inertial of his body and continue downward. It wasn't until he had reached the bottom that he stopped, having landed in a snowdrift.

Momentarily dazed, he shook his head to clear his thoughts and realized that he was no longer alone. A shadow cast over him in the form of a humanoid. By the soft chuckling that he heard behind him, he knew that the owner of the shadow could only be the man he had been seeking. This was only confirmed by the voice that he heard as he turned.

"I told you, Smythe, it would be a cold day in hell before you got me off your ship," said Commander James Lexington. He bent down and offered an extended hand of assistance.

"Yes, you did, Commander. However, I did not realize that you would bring this "hell" to my ship in order to prove your point," replied Captain Smythe of Vulcan as he accepted the Commander's outstretched hand and regained his footing.

"I have to leave you with a few surprises, don't I? Gotta leave a lasting impression after all, even if it is a holodeck program." taking a short pause, Lexington continued by asking, "I take it that it's that time?"

"The hour of your departure is not for another 60 minutes. The rest of the command staff is gathering in the lounge to bid you farewell. I thought I would give you time to prepare by retrieving you earlier than we discussed." Smythe indicated for the Commander to lead the way as they made their way across the terrain towards an open clearing. As Lexington walked ahead of him, he added, "Besides, Commander, I thought it would give me time to try and get even for all of the torment that you put me through during your tenure aboard ship."

Lexington stopped and began to turn to face his Captain when he felt the sudden impact of a snowball against the back of his head. The shock of the strike and the moment of his turn took him to the ground. Looking up, he saw Smythe bent down with a pile of snow in front of him as he formed several additional snowballs.

"I believe the appropriate phrase is, 'Defend Yourself', Commander."


An hour later...


Taking a moment to collection his thoughts, Admiral James Leonard Akaar stepped up to the podium...

"Commander Lexington, report to the line."

Commander Lexington stepped forward from his place to the right of his Captain and walked to the front of the assembled crew.

"Commander James P. Lexington. You have served aboard the U.S.S. El Dorado as first officer for 4 years. During your tenure of service, you have been cited for numerous commendations, including the Starfleet Medal of Honor, Medal of Valor, and the Federation Seal of Victory. These honors speak only briefly of the courage and devotion you have given the United Federation of Planets and its people."

Stepping up, Akaar reached up to the Commander's collar and placed a fourth gold pip next to the current three and added, "By order of Starfleet Command, in light of your actions and commitment to the ideals of the Federation and safeguard of its people, I hereby promote you to the rank of Captain with all the privileges and responsibilities that it entails. Congratulations, Captain."

A resounding applause erupted across the room with several crewmen cheering "hip-hip hooray" or making similar statements of celebration.

Before dismissing the crew to continue their celebration, the Admiral held up a hand to quiet the room and added...

"Captain Smythe, the next honor is yours."

Taking his place before his crew, Smythe addressed the newest Captain in Starfleet, "Captain Lexington, you have been my first officer and my friend for many years. During that time, you have provided me with often times the most illogical, but insightful counsel that a Captain could ask for. From early on, and as your time aboard ship continued, it became increasingly clear that this moment would eventually come."

Walking up to the view screen behind him, Smythe entered a command and a real-time image of a Sovereign class starship appeared. Turning to face his long-time friend and colleague, Smythe continued, "This is the latest ship in Starfleet. It will be leading the new Task Force headed to the front lines of the Klingon conflict. It's name invokes a legacy of taking swift action while living according to a common code and belief. It requires a Captain who will uphold this legacy and make it their own. A Captain who will lead its crew in both honor and integrity. A symbol of the Federations resiliency and determination. I can think of no one more capable or deserving of this honor and responsibility than Starfleet's newest captain."

"Captain Lexington, by the power granted to me by Starfleet Command, I have the privilege to hereby order you to assume command of the U.S.S. Buccaneer."

Smythe extended a hand to his long-time friend, who grasped it firmly. "May your new ship and crew serve as admirably as you have. Congratulations, my friend."

As he was surrounded by his friends and colleagues, Captain Lexington continued to look upon the screen at his future. A future that he could hardly believe or dream of. A future that he would later realize included his ship, his crew, and the fate of the Federation itself being placed in his hands...

And so begins the voyages of the U.S.S. Buccaneer under the command of James P. Lexington...

[Caymen Greener]

The Fire in Which We Burn!
http://ufplanets.com/showthread.php?...l=1#post206051

More details to come...

[Caymen Greener]

Hey all, only a few days left to vote. We have a front-runner, but the contest isn't over yet. Some good writing here on all 5 submissions!

Caymen

[Caymen Greener]

Not too late to vote, friends. The pole closes in just a few hours!

Caymen

[deuZige]

i cast me vote and would like to commend ALL the contestants for the quality of both the stories and the writing itself! I doubt i wouldv'e stood a chance among such skilled writers!

[Torinth]

Cast my vote just in the nick of time! some amazing reads there! even if yours doesn't win, know that you have certainly got a nack for story telling amazed.

[Caymen Greener]

And we have a winner - The Fire in Which We Burn: http://ufplanets.com/showthread.php?...l=1#post206051.

Please do not reveal yourself, writer - we'll make it a big surprise as soon as I can get the write-up into the news system (hopefully by early next week)!

Caymen

[deuZige]

Congratulations to the winner!
And again, all the entries were good and entertaining pieces! The standard is pretty high these days! Excellent work by all!

But having said that.....
Okaaaay....

so what's going to be the March short story competition? Same setup without theme or limits?
Or will there be a theme? Or an opening paragraph with which entries must start? Or does the story have to end with a specific line? I can't wait to get going! I want to reclaim the title!

[Caymen Greener]

so what's going to be the March short story competition? Same setup without theme or limits?
Or will there be a theme? Or an opening paragraph with which entries must start? Or does the story have to end with a specific line? I can't wait to get going! I want to reclaim the title!

So this will be up to FEO and Chris H, or perhaps me again if Chris does not have it on his upcoming agenda for community events. If I were to run it again, I would do every other month because we basically have two weeks of writing and two weeks of voting plus the News item so we really can't/shouldn't do monthly ones. It also gives the coordinator(s) a break in between.

If I were to do the next one, we would definitely apply a specific theme or something like you're talking about (intro paragraph, end statement). Or, conversely, open it wide open to ANY topic, not just Trek. Either one of those will be a nice contrast to this current one.

So I will get with FEO and Mr. Halsey and see what the plans are. I am totally game for running another one for March/April, just need to prevent toe-stepping!

Best,
Caymen

[Caymen Greener]

The winning story has been posted to the News area. Congratulations to Dentari!

The Fire In Which We Burn
By Dentari
http://ufplanets.com/content.php?266...urn-by-Dentari