Subject: Trek Wars Part I
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			TREK WARS - PART I - EXODUS

STAR FLEET OFFICIAL COMMUNIQUE - PROTOCOL JE6 -/ MESSAGE READS :

STARSHIP ENTERPRISE (NCC1701-D) DESTROYED WITH LOSS OF ALL HANDS ON TRAINING
MISSION TO SIGMA FOXTROT SECTOR. ONLY SURVIVOR : PICARD, ADMIRAL J.L. 

ADMIRAL PICARD HAS SURRENDERED TO CAPTAIN ROGAN OF THE TRANSPORT HERCULES
AND AS OF THIS STARDATE IS DEMOTED TO THE RANK OF ENSIGN UNTIL A FULL
COURT-MARTIAL CAN BE CONVENED. 

ENSIGN PICARD EN ROUTE TO EARTH FOR COURT-MARTIAL ON CHARGES OF GROSS
NEGLIGENCE. 

FOR THE CREW OF THE ENTERPRISE, A MINUTE'S SILENCE WILL BE OBSERVED AT THE
NEXT MEETING OF THE FEDERATION COUNCIL. 

MESSAGE ENDS// DISCONNECT.

** Transport Hercules(NCC1400-45-B). Earthbound. **

Picard, the rank pips stripped from his uniform, still could not believe
that it had happened. The Enterprise had been following a pre-ordained
path with Captain Riker at the conn, and he had chosen to go to inspect
the shuttle-bay. He had sat for a moment on the bridge of the Galileo -
the craft which had brought him aboard the Enterprise when he had taken
command - and in that moment all hell had broken loose.
A titanic shock had shaken the Enterprise. As decompression alarms bellowed
and the very fabric of the ship groaned, The shuttle had automatically
sealed. One last, enigmatic transmission from Captain Riker at the Conn -
"My - God! Look at the Size of that thing!" And then he had been thrown
clear by the explosive decompression of the shuttlebay. Now, broken to the
rank of ensign, he knew with cold certainty that his career was over. 
"Oh, not yet, Picard. That would make my life terribly boring, and we
wouldn't want that, would we?"
Picard glowered at the voice, but calmed himself. Anger never did any good.
"Q," he acknowledged in a tight voice.
"So formal, Mon Capitaine? I just thought you'd like to know where your
friends are..."
Q materialised with his usual flash of light. It took all of Picard's self
control not to grab the little runt by the neck and squeeze.
"Amongst Humans, we have a thing called tact." He growled.
"Oh! You thought I was intruding on your grief. Well, you're right. It's
wasted, after all." As the last of Picard's tattered pride gave way and he
prepared to lunge, Q continued hastily, "Since they're still alive and in
very good health."
Picard caught at the shred of hope. A quiet voice in his head told him
that he was clutching at straws, but he ignored it and focused on Q.
"Oh, yes, Mon Capitaine. The erstwhile and annoying Captain Riker, The
dreadful first officer Mr Crusher, The overly aggressive security chief
with the Klingon ancestry, the engineering expert without the eyes and the
whole gamut of muddle-headed trainees and their exasperated counselor,
that Betazoid Woman, what was her name again? Oh, and a certain CMO tipped
to be the hottest bet for captaincy of the Pasteur when it gets out of its
over-run production line. I believe you where quite fond of her."
"Your point?" Picard said cooly, refusing to rise to Q's baiting.
"They went through a singularity left over from one of my earlier
experiments. Quite... violent, at least from a mortal viewpoint... but the
ship was essentially intact when it emerged on the other side."
"Which is where." Picard was gathering his mental forces. The creature of
desperation was being replaced by the strong-willed leader of old.
"Oh, a long time ago, Picard, in a galaxy far, far away." Q smiled
obsequiously, almost condescedingly.
"So what do I do about it?" Picard felt desperation bite once more : out of
the entire Galaxy? How would he ever get to them?
"You'll need to contact an old friend and find some contacts. You'll need
a mercenary team of about four, five people. Then meet me at these
co-ordinates and get ready for the ride of your life." He tossed Picard a
piece of vellum, folded neatly into four. Picard opened it.
"This is blank, Q."
"Oh, silly me." Q said with a voracious, predatory smile. A quill pen appeared
and scratched out a series of digits. 
"Just who is the old friend you recommend I look up?" Picard asked.
"Well, there are two people on Earth at the minute who are deeply surprised
to be there. One is fond of digging, and the other one just seems to like
blowing things up, apart or away."
"Vash and Tallera." Picard guessed.
"Bravo. Get to it, Ensign." Q gave Picard just long enough to see his
mocking grin before he blinked out.
Picard sank into deep contemplation. This was going to be difficult.

** Starship Enterprise. Under Attack, location unknown. **

Riker surveyed the damage report.
"How many of those things are out there?"
"Sensors report at least twenty-five small ships. They're so small they're
avoiding our phaser blasts." Alexander Rhozhenko Worf growled from the
weapons console.
"Type?"
"Unknown. Early reports suggest a one-man craft with a pair of Ion Engines
and large solar panels to charge their main cannon. They're incredibly
manouverable." reported Ensign Dygjek from the Sensor station.
"Shields, Mr Worf?" Riker snapped, holding the armrests firmly as the
bridge shook once more. Alexander Worf looked more like his father every
day, Riker thought. Especially now, with that defiant glare in his eyes.
"They are holding, captain. The blasts are not phasers, though. They
appear to be actual laser beams, although I can't see how a ship that size
could put out a beam with the power figures I read."
"Mr Crusher, I want a Lorenz somersault with a wide spread of photon
torpedoes." Riker barked.
"Aye sir."
The great ship rolled its nose upwards, up and over, sweeping in a tight
circle as the torpedo tubes flared time and time again.
"Report."
"Fifteen of the small fighter craft are damaged or destroyed. The ten
remaining are regrouping." The trainee Science Officer's voice jumped an
octave. "Sir! I read a large vessel incoming-"
He never finished his sentence. Out of nowhere, blurring from a faded
outline to a solid ship, came a vessel that dwarfed the Enterprise. The
huge ship had none of the clean lines of a federation ship, none of the
aesthetic curves or white, sharp beauty. This ship was a ship of war.
"Rebel Alliance Nebulon B Frigate Excelsior hailing unidentified craft and
TIE fighters. Unidentified craft, Identify yourself. TIE fighters - look
behind you!"

From behind the tiny aggressors, a wing of needle-like ships swung in,
incredibly fast, and in a few seconds, it was all over. The three fighters
- their wings split in an X-shape - roared close to the Enterprise.
"This is Captain William T. Riker of the Federation Starship Enterprise
hailing -" he raised an eyebrow at the coincidence "-Excelsior. We're new
here. Any hints on how to avoid those things?"
"This is Wedge Antilles, New Republic Fleet, Rouge Squadron. You look pretty
beat up. Had a lot of run-ins with the Imperials?"
"Not really. We hit a bad wormhole or something. How does it look from out
there?"
"Your ass-end is all shot up, but I think you'll hang together. I don't
think we can squeeze you into a hangar bay : are you hyperdrive capable?"
"We have a warp drive capability." Riker hedged.
"Hmm. This is going to be a bit difficult..."


--
+=======================================================================+
| 				[]      				|
| 	Matt.R.Austin		[]   "We will return you to our normal	|
| M.R.Austin@bradford.ac.uk	[]   service as soon as we are certain	|
|				[]   what is normal anyway." 		|
|				[]  	 - Tricia MacMillan, HHGTTG	|
+=======================================================================+
Path: tivoli.tivoli.com!geraldo.cc.utexas.edu!cs.utexas.edu!swrinde!pipex!uknet!strath-cs!bradford.ac.uk!mraustin
From: M.R.Austin@bradford.ac.uk (MR AUSTIN)
Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
Subject: Trek Wars Part II
Date: 23 Mar 1995 22:47:52 GMT
Organization: University of Bradford
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		TREK WARS - PART II - PICARD THE MERCENARY

** San Francisco Spaceport. **

Picard waited at the shuttle door in silence. When it hissed open, he
saluted crisply to the officers awaiting him, feeling a bitter sense of loss
at the irony of it all. How the mighty are fallen.
"Ensign Picard." The voice threw him, for a moment, but he rapidly placed it.
"Maam." he said, formally. The president of the United Federation of
Planets inclined her head. God, she looks terrible, Picard thought. Hardly
surprising.
"Picard, I want to talk to you about your request for dismissal from the
service." She'd changed so much... was it possible that this was the same
woman he'd once known? 
"I have my reasons, Maam." He kept his stance and voice even.
"I'm sure you think you do. The fact is, Picard, you're the scapegoat for
this mess, but that won't last forever. I know if you could have averted
this whole catastrophe you would have. When this is over I for one would
be glad to see you back in service... there are some who always suggested
that Admiralty was a waste of your talents for field command."
"Maam. I must leave the fleet immediately. I have to - There are many
things that I must deal with here. I am no longer fit for service in this
fleet." He unclipped his solitary rank pip and communicator badge and
offered them.
She stared at them for a long while. "I know this must gall you, Picard. I
can tell-"
"Please, Maam-"
"Call me by my proper name, Damn you! We've know each other too long to
beat around the bush."
"Lwaxana. Please understand that I cannot allow my name to be linked with
the fleet any more. I have to leave."
"I know you must feel guilty over Deanna -"
"Lwaxana, please just listen. I have received word that it just might be
possible that they are still alive. But in order to follow this lead I
must be disgraced and dismissed. I have to contact someone with a
definite animosity toward the fleet."
Lwaxana Troi stared at him with sad eyes. "Deanna was more dear to me than
your entire crew was to you. If there is the slimmest chance she might be
alive, you must do as you see fit." 
She turned on her heel and left. Picard looked at the ground for a moment.
"Most impressive, Mon amour." Picard tensed. "Hi honey. You'll never
believe who I just ran into."
"I could hazard a guess," Picard said quietly, turning slowly around. Vash
was there, hands on hips, looking serious.
"There I am, closing the deal of the century, and pow, big flash of
light. I'm going to wring the little-"
"Those are such widely held sentiments, my dear, that You'll just have to
take a ticket and get in line along with the rest of the galaxy." The
mocking laughter put the seal on the arrogance of the voice.
"Q!" they yelled in unison. There was a flash, and Q appeared, dressed in
a medieval costume that Picard recognised.
"Dashing, isn't it?" Q smiled, giving his Guy of Gisburne outfit a quick
brush down with the palm of his hand. "Ah, this brings back memories...
You are an extremely tricksy woman, Vash, and I am certain I did
those Tellarites a big favour by removing you from their presence. Have I
mentioned that you've hardly aged a bit? Unlike our dreary companion,
whose head has, if its possible, got greyer than ever."
"You've given me more than a few extra grey hairs, Q." Picard said,
rubbing his bald head to subvert the joke.
"And in return, Picard, you have given me whole minutes of amusement. I
believe Tallera is waiting for you in a little coffee bar to the left of
the main exit. You'll need this."
He threw Picard a small bottle. Picard read the label and then looked at Q
in surprise.
"Superglue remover?" he asked. A terrible thought hit him.
"See you around, Picard," Q said and popped out.
"Come on, Vash. Tallera is in a bit of a sticky situation."

** Starship Enterprise. In contact with New Republic Frigate Excelsior. **

"So you see, Captain Riker, you're in a bit of a sticky situation."
"Thank you for pointing that out." Riker put in drily.
"We are more than willing to tow you in for repairs, but we'd need certain
assurances first." 
"If I and some of my crew transport over to you as honour-hostages, and you
place a small unit on our ship, will that suit you?"
"Certainly. I'll be interested to meet you, Captain."
"Riker out. Transporter, Myself, Mr Crusher, Mr Worf and Lieutenant
Barclay to beam over. Counsellor Troi to receive the visitors."
The sparkle of the Transporter field took them away.

On the bridge of the Excelsior, Captain Ma'Baan was extremely shocked when
four people materialised out of thin air. His already wide eyes widened
still further. The tall man with the beard stepped forward decisively, one
hand extended in greeting. 
"I'm Captain Riker."
"Pleased to meet you, Captain," Ma'Baan recovered his footing. "If you
don't mind, just how did you do that little trick?"
"We have matter transporters."
Ma'Baan blinked involuntarily, closing both the external and internal
eyelids that his race had been blessed with.
"If it were not for the evidence of my own eyes, I would be inclined to
call you a liar or a madman." In fact, to his wide-spectrum sight, the
transporter effect had been spectacular.
 "Haven't you developed a mattertransferance system?"
"Perhaps we might have, if we had not spent so many years fighting amongst
ourselves..."
"Civil Wars?"
"Bitter and vicious ones. It is noted by us that your ship is not a ship
of war. Although we are puzzled by the wreckage of the Tie fighters : the
energy-to-destruct ratio seems ludicrously small. Some predictions even
range to 2 : 4. Our own turbolasers cannot get beyond 17 : 6."
"We used Photon Torpedoes."
"How odd. Our own ships carry Proton torpedoes. It appears we have a great
deal to discuss, Captain Riker."

The ships in the Enterprise shuttlebay were the same daggerlike vessels
that had made such short work of the attacking craft. They had slipped
gently between the ripped doors and settled on extendable landing skids. Three
men and three small, stumpy robots were approaching the airlocked door,
their faces hidden behind helmet seals and blast shields. The outer door
hissed closed and the lock cycled open.
"I'm Wedge Antilles, and these are Meko and Tikks. You're counsellor Troi?"
"Yes." Troi acknowledged with a small nod. 
"If you don't mind me asking, just who were you councilman for?"
Troi paused, trying to understand the earnest young man's question.
"I'm a psychiatrist and Empath. My job is watching the mental health of
the crew." 
"Hmm. I figured from the ship design that you had a different culture, but
this is going to take some adjusting to..."

--
+=======================================================================+
| 				[]      				|
| 	Matt.R.Austin		[]   "We will return you to our normal	|
| M.R.Austin@bradford.ac.uk	[]   service as soon as we are certain	|
|				[]   what is normal anyway." 		|
|				[]  	 - Tricia MacMillan, HHGTTG	|
+=======================================================================+
Path: tivoli.tivoli.com!tadpole.com!uunet!EU.net!uknet!strath-cs!bradford.ac.uk!mraustin
From: M.R.Austin@bradford.ac.uk (MR AUSTIN)
Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
Subject: Trek Wars Part III
Date: 23 Mar 1995 22:48:16 GMT
Organization: University of Bradford
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		TREK WARS - PART III - TROI AND THE ROGUE.

** Kyoto's Cafe-Bar, San Francisco Spaceport. **

Tallera was sitting silently, fuming slightly, when Picard found her.
"This is an insult for which you will pay dearly, Picard. Whoever that oaf
was who dared to- to-" She came to a halt, unable to articulate around her
rage. 
"Glue you to your seat, please continue?" Picard said evenly.
"He had better start watching his back unless he wants a knife in it!"
Picard studied his fingers for a moment, mostly to avoid looking Tallera
in the eyes. Her gaze was as heated with rage as the slopes of hell. 
"Is that all?" When Tallera went a very undignified purple he continued
quickly, "You've just met Q. He makes a habit out of annoying people for
no very good reason. And as for killing him, well, I'm afraid there's
rather a backlog of death threats on him at the moment."
Tallera smiled coldly. It was not the sort of smile that inspired Picard
to rate Q's survival chances very highly if he were ever foolish enough
to get within arm's reach of her.
"I need you to do me a favour, Tallera. I need a small team of topflight
mercenaries for some very unusual work. And I need them soon."
Tallera's eyes flickered for a moment as she tallied up past
acquaintances. 
"What sort of team?" She asked, professional nature gaining the upper hand
over her anger for a moment.
"A general combat one. It may be necessary to take back a starship." I
hope not, Picard added to himself. 
Tallera narrowed her eyes.
"I can name two, plus myself, who might be convinced to do it for
appropriate cash payments."
"I need four or five."
Something in Tallera's face puzzled Picard. "How badly."
"I'm willing to pay a lot."
"Then I can get you the best shipboard fighter the galaxy has ever known.
But you'd better be extremely well provided for or have a hell of a good
reason. The Raven doesn't come for just anyone."
Vash raised her eyebrows. "He's still kicking around?"
"Yes." Tallera said, looking mildly annoyed.
"I ran across him when I was time-jumping with Q, about fifty years ago."
"Fifty years? He-"
"He's an immortal, Picard."

** Republic Frigate Excelsior Hangar bay. **

The X-wings, Captain Riker considered, were startlingly beautiful
machines. There was a hard edge to them : they had the symmetry and poise
of a throwing dagger, the clean, sharp, deadly lines that made them look
as though they were moving even sitting still. He wouldn't mind taking one
out for a spin sometime.
Except, of course, for the minor fact that there wasn't a gun in the place
aimed right at his back. He could understand the paranoia, but he wished
it would get disposed of. The 'New Republic' had been fighting for years, he
understood, and were liable to keep on fighting. 
He turned to the robot who was following him. There, too, was something
different : in this galaxy, robotics was clearly an advanced science,
capable of mass-producing units. This was a protocol droid, he understood,
an aging model called a B-2DI. It was roughly humanoid, but with a
polished silver surface, with an art-deco look to it's stylised human shape.
"So where exactly are we going to?" he asked it.
"The orders came in from Counsellor Princess Leia Organa only moments ago,
sir. The Princess has taken some considerable interest in your appearance,
and has ordered you to be brought to a rendezvous at the soonest
opportunity. Once our technicians have finished convincing our network to
talk to yours, we shall be on our way to meet the Millennium Falcon."
"How about you fill me in on the history of this place while we're moving
along."
"Certainly sir, but I should warn you I'm only an interpreter and not very
good at telling stories. Well, not at making them interesting, anyway."
"Go ahead..."
"Two years ago, The Rebel alliance scored a crushing blow against the
empire with the destruction of both it's latest weapon, the Death Star,
and it's head, the Emperor Palpatine, in one blow, at the battle of Endor..."

Over on the Enterprise, Troi was just bringing the tour to an end with the
Holodecks. The pilots - the only name she was sure of was their leader,
Wedge - looked around in stunned surprise as she ran the Black Sea program
that Worf had introduced her to. Wedge looked around and grinned.
"This is amazing. And you say this is all for recreation?"
"It is occasionally used for training, but more often that's done in a
specific gym. Mostly it's here for relaxation."
"Can I program something?"
"Sure : Computer, accept the next voice and allow base-level clearance."
"Hi there. Desert environment, double-suns, canyons formed by wind
erosion. A large valley."
The simulation began to form.
"A city. Sprawling. Buildings mostly in white, all in early stages of decay."
He looked around.
"It'd pass for Tatooine." He looked around. "If my eyesight were a little
poorer."
Troi detected a deep well of memories.
"Is this your homeworld?" she asked.
"Not mine. A friend's."
A bitter twinge of pain clouded his thoughts.
"I wonder where he is right now."

"Approximately six months ago we started having trouble with the Imperials
again. Almost overnight, they began to co-ordinate on a much larger scale,
forming a coherent fleet in this area. Five months ago, we discovered that
one of the Admirals of the Fleet was unaccounted for. Three months
ago, an expedition to this area vanished without trace. And a month ago,
Princess Leia Organa's brother, the Jedi Knight Luke Skywalker, was in
this sector when his X-wing vanished without a trace. While he is not
assumed to be dead, given his remarkable survival skills, the chances of
finding him are extremely small. And the battle against the Imperials
grows harder every day. It seems that the battle of Endor was not as final
as we might have wished." The B-2DI came to the finish of its tale.
Riker nodded grimly. This galaxy had been torn by war for decades. He had
heard the story of the Clone Wars, the Old Republic pitted against the
Empire, and of the Rebel alliance and the battles of Yavin, Hoth, and
Endor. He had heard the story of the young 'Jedi', Skywalker, and of his
friends : the smuggler Han Solo, the pilot Wedge Antilles, and the rogueish
Lando Calrissian. And of his sister, the current figurehead of the New
Republic, Leia Organa. He had never before encountered any group so
strained by irreconcilable wars. The Emperor made Hitler look like a
reasonable and civilized man. And the coldly related information about Grand
Moff Tarkin was enough to make him shudder. He had sparked the rebellion at
the massacre at Ghorman, slaughtering the protesters at the spaceport by
bringing down a warship on top of them, landing jets reducing the
protesters to ash and smoke in seconds... The concentration camps had not
accrued so many deaths over the course of the entire second world war as
Tarkin had ordered in one moment when he commanded that the first Death
Star be fired on Alderaan. He would have been inclined to disregard the
stories as propaganda, but it was all so believable. He had the feeling
that trying to explain the slowly boiling tensions of the Romulan problem
and the deteriorating alliance with the Klingons, not to mention the
Cardassians and the ever-more-complex beauracracy of the Federation, would
be like trying to explain Socrates to a Rock. It wasn't that they were
stupid, just that their frame of reference was entirely different. 
He sighed.
"You've had a more difficult time of it than us, and that's a fact. The
last real war we had to contend with was the Eugenics wars, way back in
the twentieth century."
"Is your society stable, sir?"
"Not exactly. We don't fight openly, but there's always that threat. And
there's always a paper war happening somewhere. And we've met any number
of beings and races that could forseeably destroy us if they put their
mind to it. Let me tell you about the Borg..."

Picard surveyed his small group. Lansen was a short, wiry fellow with a
permanent grin. According to Tallera, he was the best thief in the system.
Next to him, Koigot stood, quiet, impassive. A glittering implant lit his
temple, revealing the tiny interface jack that connected to his little
biocomputer. He was rated the best shot with a pistol phaser in five systems.
But the Raven was still more impressive. He stood nearly six inches taller
than Picard. Slung at his side was a broadsword of some length. He wore a
long black overcoat, ragged at the bottom, giving him the air of a
tattered, but still predatory, old bird. He wore a black fedora and a
mask of black metal shaped like a medieval knight's shield, with the stylised
outline of a raven in flight on it in white, like a heraldic device. The
outstretched wings of the bird framed the eyeslits, through which red eyes
glowed.
"I will do this for nothing." He announced quietly, his English slightly
tainted with an unidentifiable accent. "Loyalty to comrades, one final stand
against the uncaring machine, these things are pleasing to me. The Raven
bids you welcome, Picard."
"Yeah, same here." Lansen grinned. Koigot merely nodded.
"Now we leave," Tallera said with a look of slight annoyance on her face.
She seemed disappointed that The Raven had not charges his usual enormous
fees.
"Indeed." came the arrogant voice, and Picard half closed his eyes in
desperation.
"I thought you didn't like interfering too much with events?"
"I'm not in control here, Picard." Q paused, clapped one hand to his heart
in mock grief. "Do you know how difficult that was to say? I'm quite
/shattered/ by the concept. I'm hurrying you along because I'm so terribly
/Bored/ by all this fooling around. You see, the two timelines are
beginning to fray, and I rather fear that unless we get your friends back
we'll be looking at a full scale Stocastrophe. You really wouldn't want to
go through the whole Trelane business again, would you?"
Picard shuddered. Their encounter with Trelane, Q's... Apprentice? Pupil?
Protege? - had been emotionally searing. He had seen Jack Crusher, driven
half insane, ripped from another universe and dropped into their own. He had
witnessed a Beverly Crusher dying - which Beverly, from an infinite
number of possible Beverlies, he could not know, but the sound of her neck
breaking as she fell had driven ice into his soul. 
"You see, Picard, that anomaly was never intended to be permanent. It was
a fledgling immortal's first attempt at something really impressive that
got quite out of hand. The distortion around it is so great that even
Q-continuum physical laws begin to break down. We call it Drift Hysteresis.
Darktime. It's a conjunction point between two galaxies that are
fundamentally not equipped to be connected. Think of it as the point
between a vat of nitroglycerine and a roaring fire. If it opens too
widely, the reality bulkheads may fail and a chain reaction might just
take us all out in a bang that would make the big one look like a damp
firecracker. So let's move, shall we?"
Picard clenched his fists. This was going to be interesting to say the least.

--
+=======================================================================+
| 				[]      				|
| 	Matt.R.Austin		[]   "We will return you to our normal	|
| M.R.Austin@bradford.ac.uk	[]   service as soon as we are certain	|
|				[]   what is normal anyway." 		|
|				[]  	 - Tricia MacMillan, HHGTTG	|
+=======================================================================+
Path: tivoli.tivoli.com!geraldo.cc.utexas.edu!cs.utexas.edu!swrinde!pipex!uknet!strath-cs!bradford.ac.uk!mraustin
From: M.R.Austin@bradford.ac.uk (MR AUSTIN)
Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
Subject: Trek Wars Part IV
Date: 23 Mar 1995 22:48:34 GMT
Organization: University of Bradford
Lines: 144
Message-ID: <3ksts2$63r@columbia.acc.brad.ac.uk>
NNTP-Posting-Host: discovery.brad.ac.uk
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		TREK WARS - PART IV - THE RAVEN IN FLIGHT.

Picard looked around his group. They might well all be top-notch personnel,
but he still faced the 'minor' problem of getting them to Q's coordinates.
"Now all we need is a ship. Unless, Q, you'd care to stop all this fooling
around and take us directly?
Q grimaced.
"Oh, Picard, whatever gave you the idea that I might make this all easy
for you? No. You need a ship."
"Why?" Vash put in. "You didn't need one to take me on our little
archaeological whistle-stop tour of the galaxy."
Q grinned smugly. "I'm not half the omnipotent immortal I used to be, my
dear." He intoned, sarcastically. "I simply can't be bothered to haul you
around willy nilly for your personal amusement anymore. I've grown tired of
all that. No, you'll need a ship."
Picard closed his eyes.
"So in other words, you can't do it."
"Won't, Picard." Q said sharply. "I won't do it, not I can't do it. It just
makes things more interesting." 
The Raven spoke. "I have a ship. We will go immediately." 
Q rubbed his hands.
"Attaboy. Oh, this is going to be more fun than I've had in aeons." He
began to sing in a rich baritone. "Here we are again, happy as can be..."
Tallera shot a glance at Picard.
"I really am going to break his neck for him one day."
"But not today, my over-aggressive friend. Not today." Q clapped his hands.
"Now, shall we stand around discussing things while the universe goes
foom, or shall we flit off and find the excitement?"

** Starship Enterprise. Perimeter Space of New Republic. **

Wesley finished checking the readouts on the navigation console.
"Where's the rendezvous?" he asked. Troi looked at Wedge. 
"Near Kashyyyk. Han and Leia are en route from Coruscant now."
"Okay." Wes tapped his communicator. "Bridge to Captain Riker. We have
the star maps and our destination."
"Very good, number One. Warp Two."
The Enterprise blurred into a starbow and was gone.
"Go to hyperdrive for Kashyyyk. And notify Admiral Ackbar that he needs a
new frigate on patrol."
"The Sunfire is already outward bound. All personnel, Jump stations. All
personnel, Jump stations. Orienting for the jump to lightspeed."
The excelsior rotated, aligning her prow with the distant speck of light
that was Kashyyyk's main sun. And was gone.

Leia was beginning to get tired of this.
"Again?" She said.
"It's not my fault. I had that unit overhauled two months ago."
"No hyperdrive. Again."
"I think its-Ow!" there was a dull ringing sound.
"Is that a pipe? Or is it the emptiness of your head making all that noise?"
"Ha-ha. Chewie, I need a Ditmars-six wrench and a coil of Polygamite
monofilament. And if you've got a Mark Nine microcutter, that'd help."
Chewie grunted and passed the tools down.
"Never should have let Lando's boys near this tub." Han's voice echoed up from
the pit of piping. "I just found a sabacc card down here. I'm willing to
bet that half the man-hours I paid for were spent on cards..."
Leia groaned and went up to the bridge. It was remotely embarrasing that
a counsellor of the New Republic had to rely on a rackety old smuggler's
vessel for transport, and she said so.
"I agree most heartily, Princess Leia." C-3P0 piped up from the corner.
"Well, sweetheart, I love you too. This rackety old smuggler has patched
up the Hyperdrive, so anytime you like we can get going for Kashyyyk."
"I'll believe it when I see it," she said with a smile.
Han pulled the lever and the stars blurred into starlines.
"I believe it." She said, a little surprised. 
Han smiled from behind a layer of grease. "See? This old bird's got a few
years left in her yet."

** San Francisco Spaceport. **

Vash looked at the Ravenflight with a distinctly disapproving air.
"You fly around in that thing? You're braver than I thought."
The Raven's expression, thankfully, was hidden behind his mask.
Picard examined the ship with a critical eye. It might be old, but a
starship captain's eye for detail picked out the overlarge plasma
conduits, the additional bulge around the engines. The Ravenflight was a
fast ship under the decaying exterior.
"It'll make warp five and at sublight it's the equal of a Carrack-class
cruiser. It's fast enough for you."

Once they were aboard and the Raven had gone to the bridge, Picard drew
Tallera to one side.
"Who is the Raven, exactly? I mean his real name, where he comes from."
"No-one knows his real name. He's thought to be the last of a race long
since dead, but he's not telling anyone."
"And what is this whole Immortality thing?"
"He's as vulnerable as you or I to damage. But as near as anyone can
figure, he's been around for at least a hundred years."
"I have a projected lifespan of another two hundred years, Picard." came
the Raven's voice from behind them. "I've been around for more than a
millenia. As to my name, as to my race, both long since ceased to have any
meaning. Now there is only the Raven. I am what I am and no more." The
Raven's voice was very quiet.
"I have seen all four Enterprises go about their missions. I have seen
Star Fleet fight time and time again to survive, to rise above the ghosts
of war and find a better peace. Know this : unless they can do so, the
human race still may perish at it's own hand. I have seen my own race die,
Picard. It is a fate I would wish not even upon my worst enemies."
For a moment, there was silence.
"I am the last of my kind. Once, we straddled the galaxy, fearless,
indestructible. Now our fire has gone out of the universe. I am all that
is left. It is a high and lonely path I tread."
Picard looked down. There was such pain in the unearthly voice that it cut
him to the bone.
"Now, we must go."

The Enterprise slowed as it reached the Kashyyyk system. The lush green
planet below looked cool and appetizing.
Wedge looked at the screen.
"Well, here we are. Wookiee central, the planet with the most dangerous
natural hazards this side of the galaxy."
"What's a Wookiee?" Wes asked.
"Eight-foot humanoid covered head-to-toe in hair. They look pretty fierce,
but they're good friends of the Alliance. But that's all academic : we're
only waiting for the Falcon. It'll be good to see Han again..."

A few moments later, the Excelsior dropped out of Hyperdrive into the
Kashyyyk system.
"The Falcon should be here any minute, Sir." Riker's droid companion
informed him. 
"Is this the same Millenium Falcon that fought at Yavin and Endor?"
"Indeed, sir, At Yavin, Solo rescued Luke Skywalker from attack, and at
Endor General Calrissian led the attack on the Second death star in it
while General Solo co-ordinated the ground attack. It was also responsible
for the evacuation of Princess Leia from Hoth, and before that for her
rescue from the first Death Star."
"Quite a history."
"Indeed, sir. General Solo is one of the best known figures of the
Alliance after Commander Skywalker and Leia Organa. He is a gambler of
some repute : he won the Millenium Falcon from Lando Calrissian in an epic
nine-hour game of sabacc."
"Does he play poker?" Riker asked, thinking that he might just have to see
how good this Solo was...

--
+=======================================================================+
| 				[]      				|
| 	Matt.R.Austin		[]   "We will return you to our normal	|
| M.R.Austin@bradford.ac.uk	[]   service as soon as we are certain	|
|				[]   what is normal anyway." 		|
|				[]  	 - Tricia MacMillan, HHGTTG	|
+=======================================================================+
Path: tivoli.tivoli.com!geraldo.cc.utexas.edu!cs.utexas.edu!swrinde!pipex!uknet!strath-cs!bradford.ac.uk!mraustin
From: M.R.Austin@bradford.ac.uk (MR AUSTIN)
Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
Subject: Trek Wars Part IX
Date: 23 Mar 1995 22:54:28 GMT
Organization: University of Bradford
Lines: 188
Message-ID: <3ksu74$63r@columbia.acc.brad.ac.uk>
NNTP-Posting-Host: discovery.brad.ac.uk
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Xref: tivoli.tivoli.com alt.startrek.creative:7161


			Trek Wars Part IX

		And Height And Depth And Eternal Stars

** Coruscant. Command Control. **

The vast assembly hall was barely half-filled. The Republic fleet, Wedge
had explained to Riker, was stretched to its very limits just trying to
hold the fragile alliance together : and the Republic Shipyards were
desperately low on vital supplies. Leia and General Solo were standing
with them, pointing out key figures in the bustle.
Riker noticed a dark-skinned man with a dazzling smile approaching from
behind. The man put a finger to his lips and then jumped on Han. Han went
crashing to the floor and the two men rolled there, wrestling with each
other. Riker stepped forwards to intervene, but Leia laid a hand on his
arm and shook her head, smiling.
"Lando, you stinking son of a space flea, what the hell are you doing here!"
"I might ask you the same, oh disreputable one. I thought you intended to
retire from all of this."
"I keep meaning to, but..." he glanced briefly at Leia, "There are a
couple of things that just keep me hanging around." Leia blushed faintly.
Lando flashed her a hundred-watt smile and took her hand.
"Princess," he said with easy grace, and kissed it.
"Same old rogue. Don't you ever change?"
"I am as eternal as your beauty. But, sadly, business matters call.
I've had an idea that might solve your metal problems. You're mostly short
on Hfredium, aren't you?"
"That's the big bottleneck, yes."
"I've found a rich site. I fully expect to be able to extract a thousand
tons a day."
"That is rich. What's the catch."
"It's N'Klon."
"It can't be mined. It's in close orbit around a primary star, for crying
out loud : you can boil steel on the day side."
"I've had a few thoughts on that. If you'd care to look them over, perhaps
pass them on to interested parties that, shall we say, might not be so
interested if I went personally?"
"Ackbar doesn't blame you for resigning your commission, Lando. He just
feels sorry to loose one of his 'Invincibles'."
"Anyway, I have to flit. The Lady Luck is warming up and I'm due at the
Makos reclamation facility in ten hours."
He flashed another smile at them all, shook hands briefly with Han and
Riker, kissed Leia's hand again, and was gone.
"That man," Leia said, smiling a little, "is an even bigger rogue than
you."
Han looked a little worried about that.
"I may surprise you yet, Princess."
Leia smiled, lasciviously.
"You do that, Han. You do that."

** The Ravenflight. Bridge. **

The entire of Picard's little band was crammed onto the flight deck. The
Raven stood in the far corner, brooding and silent. Koigot was flicking
his modified Type II phaser in and out of its holster with practised ease,
the implant glittering at his temple. Lansen was flexing his fingers,
making fists and then releasing them. Tallera was just sitting there, her
eyes smouldering. Vash was leaning on a console, idly stroking her hair
into place. Picard wanted to be pacing, but the others took up all the
available space.
There was a flash, and Q appeared.
"Very well. The time has come, I feel, for a little talk. Vash. How do you
feel?"
Vash looked as though she'd been expecting that question. "It's almost
exactly how you described it."
The Raven stared at her.
"You're a-" he began, but Q raised a finger to his lips.
"All in good time. Now, since our masked friend would probably have told
you this sooner or later, we are in his galaxy. He came to ours a long,
long time ago, fleeing a persecution that made Hitler's purges look positively
civilized. But now we have a rather more devious need in mind. Somewhere
out there is a battleship. Aboard that ship is a person of vital
importance. We will need all Koigot's accuracy, all Lansen's skills, all
Tallera's experience, all Vash's special abilities, all The Raven's
training, and all Picard's high-vaunted intelligence to get him. I have to
take a little trip elsewhere. Au Revoir!"
"How will we know who this person is?" Picard shouted.
"I should imagine that Vash or the Raven will be able to find him. Now
cease bothering me."
He vanished.

Across space he flew, darting like an arrow towards the beacon of
Skywalker's mind.
They had broken his legs again today. They were running out of things to
do to him that weren't lethal. He felt the mental light of his mysterious
visitor approaching.
There was a flash, and a curly-haired man in an unfamiliar uniform appeared.
"Hello, Luke." he said, smiling.
"Q?" asked Luke, wondering whether they were feeding him some new
hallucinogenic. Neither Ben nor Yoda had ever mentioned the ability to
appear at will.
"You disappoint me, young Skywalker. I am far more than a Jedi. And,
indeed, less than a Jedi as well. I never had your training... but then
again, I never needed it. That's just the way the universe expands, I
suppose."
"Can you free me?"
Q shook his head.
"This is a complex machine I'm manipulating here. I'm trying to turn it
off without damaging it or ripping my hand off - metaphorically
speaking - between the various moving parts. I love playing games like
this : it's so beautifully complicated. Too many key players, too many
subtle shifts. This is really going to give me a good, old fashioned
workout. I've got to go. But be of good cheer, Skywalker. Help is on its way."
He vanished.

Across space he screamed, revelling in the power flowing through him. The
exposure to Darktime had done more than mess up his materialisation : it
had very nearly killed him. But, here...
He looped-the-loop around a cooling supernova out of sheer exhilaration.
Back to the roots, back to the start. Nearest the bone is where life is
sweetest. 
Another thought spurred him on. A short passage from Sliin's "The Death of
Marhata".
"And as he watched, all was laid waste :
The petty scribblings of mortal man,
And the mighty works of God,
And Height, And Depth, And Eternal Stars,
were scattered to ash before the void.
And the rest is Silence."
The Organians had a touch with epics and poems that Q admired. The Death
of Marhata had always been his favourite.
In a flash of light, he arrived.
"Q!" came the cry, as expected.
"Well, well, well. Captain Riker! Almost mildly entertaining to see you
again."
"I might have guessed you'd be bothering us before long."
"Oh, believe me, if I had a choice in the matter I wouldn't ever go near
this grotty little universe again, but events seem to be conspiring
against me. Which is unpleasant, to say the least."
Leia was watching him.
"Who are you?"
"Ah, the delectable Princess." Q bowed. "I'll let Captain Riker here do
the honours."
"This is Q, a member of the Q continuum. A galactic-sized pain in the
neck, and as arrogant as they come."
"Oh, the pain." Q clutched one hand to his chest, as if mortally wounded. "You
cut me to the quick with these accusations, you know. I'm just a dabbler in
arrogance. You should meet Mogen if you think I'm bad." He smiled, coldly.
"You're-" Leia began.
"Oh, *spare* me. Yes, I'm a Jedi of sorts. All sorts, actually. I've got
some important news for you all, concerning missing loved ones. Ex-ensign
Picard, after a number of misadventures too tedious to relate, is freshly
arrived and - sad to relate - as dull as ever. Commander Skywalker is
neither fit, nor well, but he is still alive. Cancel your red alert, if
you would : I'm getting a headache."
Ackbar tapped a pair of buttons, and the klaxon ceased.
"Now, If we'd all get ourselves in a co-operative frame of mind, I've a
few orders to give."
"You are not in a position to give orders." Ackbar said, quietly.
"You, on the other hand, are not in a position conductive to good health."
Ackbar shot upwards, stopping inches short of the ceiling.
"I can lower you, or drop you. Which would you prefer?" Q asked, calmly.
"Enough of this. Q, bring him down." It was Mon Mothma's tones that echoed
across the chamber.
Q smiled. "Certainly."
Ackbar floated back down to the ground.
"Now. Are we in a co-operative frame of mind yet?"

** The Heart of Fury. Bridge. **

The Heart Of Fury was the cleanest Klingon ship Data had ever seen. Worf
noticed his rapid survey of the room.
"I seem to have developed a most irritating habit of cleanliness during
my time at Starfleet." He said, almost smiling.
Data nodded agreement.
"This is Lieutenant Ro, who you may remember."
Worf nodded his shaggy head.
"And this is Major Kira, an expert in Guerilla tactics."
Worf extended his hand and shook hers.
"We should leave now. If it were done, then twere well it were done quickly."
"Macbeth, I think." Ro said.
"It loses a great deal in translation, but the Klingon Play is one of our
greatest works. If you would do me the honour, Commander Data, of taking the
sensor station?"
"Of course."
"Warp three for the Sigma Foxtrot sector."
The Bird of Prey leaped away from Deep Space Nine.


--
+=======================================================================+
| 				[]      				|
| 	Matt.R.Austin		[]   "We will return you to our normal	|
| M.R.Austin@bradford.ac.uk	[]   service as soon as we are certain	|
|				[]   what is normal anyway." 		|
|				[]  	 - Tricia MacMillan, HHGTTG	|
+=======================================================================+
Path: tivoli.tivoli.com!geraldo.cc.utexas.edu!cs.utexas.edu!swrinde!pipex!uknet!strath-cs!bradford.ac.uk!mraustin
From: M.R.Austin@bradford.ac.uk (MR AUSTIN)
Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
Subject: Trek Wars Part V
Date: 23 Mar 1995 22:48:55 GMT
Organization: University of Bradford
Lines: 123
Message-ID: <3kstsn$63r@columbia.acc.brad.ac.uk>
NNTP-Posting-Host: discovery.brad.ac.uk
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Xref: tivoli.tivoli.com alt.startrek.creative:7156


		TREK WARS - PART V - TOWARDS THE DARK SIDE

Luke did not know how long he had been in this chamber, but his body told
him it had been too long. They had begun softening him up already :
torture droids had poked him with red hot irons, passed high voltages
through him, beaten him, cut him, broken bones, injected him with drugs that,
Jedi mind-training or no, turned reality inside out. They were stretching and
compressing time, too, changing the length of the light and dark cycles to
disorient him. He had been kept awake for a week by pounding noise and
flashing lights, trapped in the dark. His force-sense could find no living
being within his reach. The Imperials knew what they were doing. He was
isolated from anything that might be useful. His manacles had been welded
shut : any grip he could exert on the mechanism of the lock was useless.
He knew what they were trying to do. They were slowly, calmly, coldly
nudging him towards the Dark Side. He could hear Yoda's voice so clearly
as he thought back.
"Fear... Anger... Hatred... of the Dark Side are they."
They wanted to make him afraid, to make him hate them. Then he would have
taken the first step towards the Dark Side, the first step that could
never be taken back.

He was worried that they might be succeeding in their goal. He could find
only shreds of calm in his mind, and his dreams were filled with dark
thoughts of revenge and retribution.

He waited. He could do nothing else.

** Starship Enterprise : Ten Forward. **

The Falcon curved around Kashyyyk, burning white in the light of the sun.
Wedge waved from the window as it slid effortlessly between the Enterprise
and the Excelsior. Troi smiled. There was a charming honesty and openess
to the young pilot that she found heart-warming, in a way. After dealing
with endless numbers of cagey ambassadors, hostile aliens, and so forth,
it was a pleasure to meet someone with such a marvellously uncluttered
perspective. He cared for his friends and his ship, and nothing else came
into the equation. She stepped to his side and watched. She was aware
that, behind her, the other pilots were relaxing and chatting with the
Enterprise crew while Guinan kept the synthehol flowing. Wedge had to be
the only person in Ten-forward that didn't have a drink in his hand.
"Would you like a drink?" she asked, feeling a little foolish. Good god,
she thought suddenly, why am I acting like a nervous schoolgirl?
"I don't know if you have this one. Lando keeps recommending it to
everyone. It's a weird concoction... Ah... I think it's called Hot
Chocolate?" 
Deanna smiled. "Oh, I think we can rustle something up."

On the Bridge of the Excelsior, Riker entered in time to see the Falcon
cut across the bow of the Enterprise. He was also just in time to hear
Ma'Baan mutter "Show-off" and for the muted laughter that comment drew.
He could almost be back on the Enterprise. The sense of cameraderie was
the same, the cheery optimism was identical.
"Hello, Excelsior! Better lay on a landing. Her royalness doesn't like to
be kept waiting."
A sound almost exactly like a friendly punch in the arm came over the channel.
"Sorry, your worshipfulness! Oh, and before you go, Chewie's eager to go
planetside if he can-"
There was a loud rumbling growl that made Riker jump.
"Ma'Baan to Solo. Tell Chewie he can go planetside if he wants, but we'll
need to be ready to pull out on short notice. It seems like our visitors
have stirred up a real furore."
Riker coughed quietly.
"Excuse me... what was that growl?"
"Chewbacca. He's a wookie with a kind of honour-debt to Solo. He's first
mate on the Falcon - and a fine pilot to boot."
"Wookies are the intelligent indigenous race of the planet Kashyyyk below
us. They stand between seven and nine feet tall, are erect humanoids, and
are completely covered in fur. They excel at close combat, ranged weapons,
and-" The droid cut off when Riker waved a hand to shush it. The Falcon
was slowly curving gracefully towards the open bay.

Picard surveyed the damage in amazement.
The Klingon Bird-of-Prey had been holed in fifteen or sixteen places.
Lansen shook his head, biting one corner of his mouth in concentration.
"I read residuals in the damage that don't make any sense. Looks like a
laser, but It'd have to be huge to put out the power that caused this."
"A laser?" Picard looked at him in confusion. "Lasers are outmoded
technology, overly bulky units which-"
Lansen cut him off with another shake of his head.
"These read out as being forty-to-sixty times the power of a conventional
beam. It looks like they might have rigged some kind of phase/amp-feedback
effect, but the Daystrom institute couldn't break that problem when they
were working on multi-use armaments for Starfleet... mind you, that was
back before they came up with Phasers, so there's been a lot of time for
someone to break it. And evidently someone has."
"Even at sixty times the power of a lab-standard cutting beam, it shouldn't
have done more than clipped the shield...
"I've got another one." Tallera called from the viewscreen. She tapped out
a command and the main viewer zoomed in on a small wreck.
"I have never, in all my years, seen a craft like that." Picard said, quietly.
The main hull had been drilled clean through with a phaser blast, but the
two hexagonal panels to either side were a feature Picard had never seen
in his life.
"I'm getting some figures on it. Only big enough for one person. Those
panels are solar cells of a kind. Engines - I read plasma around the
debris, consistent with Ion engines. I can't tell you anything about
armament, but I'd bet you any money those tubes under the window are laser
nozzles." Lansen nodded, pleased with his readings, and shut the display off.
"Multiple attackers, small, fast craft. The Enterprise Phaser locks
weren't configured for small craft. There's no reason to suppose that
Klingon locks were any different." Picard could see it. The Bird-of-Prey
would have been like a bear under attack from a cloud of hawks. That they
didn't do a lot of damage would be irrelevant : they would have simply
kept on pecking and dodging, pecking and dodging...
"Send an immediate message to Starfleet command, flagged urgent. Inform
them and tell them to contact Lieutenant Commander Data and Klingon
Emmissary Worf immediately. And transmit to the Klingon High Command at
the same time. Keep it short : unknown attackers on the loose, prepare
phaser locks for multiple, small, fast targets." Picard nodded to himself.
Vash smiled, slightly. "I'll, er... make it so."
Picard shot her a look.
"It looks like Q's anomaly is a two-way door..." The Raven said, grimly.


--
+=======================================================================+
| 				[]      				|
| 	Matt.R.Austin		[]   "We will return you to our normal	|
| M.R.Austin@bradford.ac.uk	[]   service as soon as we are certain	|
|				[]   what is normal anyway." 		|
|				[]  	 - Tricia MacMillan, HHGTTG	|
+=======================================================================+
Path: tivoli.tivoli.com!geraldo.cc.utexas.edu!cs.utexas.edu!swrinde!pipex!uknet!strath-cs!bradford.ac.uk!mraustin
From: M.R.Austin@bradford.ac.uk (MR AUSTIN)
Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
Subject: Trek Wars Part VI
Date: 23 Mar 1995 22:49:12 GMT
Organization: University of Bradford
Lines: 269
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NNTP-Posting-Host: discovery.brad.ac.uk
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Xref: tivoli.tivoli.com alt.startrek.creative:7158


		 TREK WARS - PART VI - THE GATHERING DARK

** Republic Frigate Excelsior. Bridge. **

Riker ran his hands over his uniform once more. It was already perfectly
straight, but if he didn't do something soon he was going to start
fidgeting. It had to be the tensions in the place getting to him : he'd
dealt with dozens of ambassadors, dignitaries, even planetary Royalty,
before, so it couldn't be the approaching meeting with the Princess.
At one side of him, Alexander stood - already towering over Riker's
not-insubstantial frame. On the other, Wes Crusher was looking more mature
than ever before. There was a thin scar running down one cheek that he
refused to discuss, and StarFleet records hedged at an accident on Colony
Alpha during advanced training. Whatever was behind that incident, Wes
wasn't talking about it, but he'd changed over the advanced course... Some
of his optimism and cheerfulness was gone, and replacing it was a tough
edge that reminded Riker a little of himself. Barclay was still talking
animatedly with one of the Excelsior crew about his recent performance in
Chekhov's 'The Cherry Orchard' as Petya Trofimov. There was another person
who had changed a lot. His confidence had increased in leaps and bounds,
and he'd become a thoroughly respectable actor. Beverly was even talking
about trying him in some Shakespeare. 
Those little digressions had kept him diverted for long enough for the
walk from he landing bay to the bridge. The Door to the bridge slid open.
"I can't believe you can't get a better sensor package for that thing!" came a
female voice.
"Listen, Sweetheart, since Lando knocked the main array off for me I've had no
end of problems. I'm not about to try a tricky landing just for your
entertainment. You don't like climbing? Next time, We'll book a shuttle.
Oh, Hi, Ma'Baan. And you must be the new guys."
"Captain William T. Riker of the Federation Starship Enterprise. You must
be General Solo."
"Skip the General. I stand down my commission in a month's time-"
"Not if Ackbar has anything to say about it you don't." The woman interrupted.
"And you must be Princess Leia Organa."
"Yes. If certain grubby pirates would go get cleaned up, the diplomats here
can deal with the real business."

** The Ravenflight. Sigma Foxtrot sector. **

Data angled his head slightly to one side, a physical mannerism that he
found often encouraged humans to continue. And this was VERY interesting.
"...I am no longer your commanding officer, but I hope I am still your
friend. Can you produce me any theories, Data?"
Data paused, assembling the known facts in a logic field and applying a
series of Matrix filters.
"Extrapolations from current data are what could be termed "Sketchy" at
best, Jean-Luc. However, eliminating all possibilities of less than fifty
percent, I believe that the hypothesis that the Anomaly is a
two-directional gate are unlikely. Anomalies are usually single-acting
introverters which apply a focussed but variable distortion to the
spacetime continuum, not a fixed tunnel sustained in another set of
dimensions. I do have records, however, of a tunnel between two universes,
under StarFleet coding KIRK-ENT-5-1-LAZARUS-INCIDENT. The enterprise
encountered a humanoid who was given the name "Lazarus". He was eventually
revealed to be two beings from separate universes. The two Lazaruses were
sealed in a corridor between the universes, which was apparently generated-"
"Thank you, Data. It is possible that Q's inference of 'A long time ago in
a galaxy far away' might be his typically roundabout way of explaining the
concept of an entirely separate universe. In the meantime, what action do
you feel is appropriate?"
"Your decision to notify Worf is most intelligent, Captain. Worf is both a
trusted member of the Klingons' Greater Council, and also a friend who can
be trusted to accurately convey your message in appropriate terms. I
myself am aboard the U.S.S. Lyman en route to station Deep Space Nine for
a conference on new developments in robotics, a radical new 'Fuzzy Logic'
chip which may in due course allow a more human response from machines-"
"Your point, Data?" Picard smiled slightly.
"I will be in an appropriate position to meet with Worf aboard his
personal flagship and arrange an outing to the co-ordinates for further
examination of the evidence."
"Very Good, Data. It's been good to see you again."
"I have found it stimulating to interact with you once more also."
"Good Luck, Data." Picard closed the connection. "And good Hunting."
He turned to the crew assembled on the bridge of the Ravenflight.
"That ties up this end of the situation for now. All we need is Q."
"It's such a delight to hear you say that, Picard. It seems that in your
old age you are finally coming to appreciate me."
Picard knew better than to rise to Q's baiting.
"Well, Q?"
"The anomaly is invisible to your instruments, Picard. To get through the
Drift Hysteresis alive, you'll have to do exactly as I say."
Picard drew himself up.
"Very well."
"Second star to the right. And straight on until my warning..."

** Deep Space, beyond the Republic rim. **

The Imperial Star Destroyer 'Invictus' was cruising through the night, her
running lights blinking in solemn unison along her 1600-meter length. A vast,
triangular sliver of metal, a city in space, she sailed serenely onward.
Her occupants were not so serene.
"Admiral, how much longer must we tolerate that... abomination amongst our
crew!"
The Admiral turned one baleful eye on the young Captain. The man was
quivering, but whether with anger or fear he could not tell. 
"Hesk will continue to be a part of the operations of my strikeforce until
I wish it otherwise. He is a valuable addition to our force and as such-"
The door hissed open and a nightmare entered.
Hesk was utterly black. Faint gleams of light marked the surface
occasionally, but most of the light falling on Hesk simply vanished into
him. The only features in his face were a thin-lipped mouthful of needle
fangs, and a pair of slitted eyes that glowed with molten fire.
"Captain Ungari. I will not be referred to as an abomination." His voice
was rich, melodious, as sticky as tar.
Without warning Hesk seized the captain's hair with one hand and tipped
his head back. 
"Sweet kiss of nightfall, the moon's embrace,
doth light its softness on thy face" Hesk said, poetically, and ripped the
captain's throat out. He spat the torn flesh onto the desk in front of
Raust and let the gurgling Captain slump to the deck.
Raust watched Hesk with his one good eye for a moment.
"Your powers as an enforcer of discipline are in no question," Raust said
eventually, "But you will execute only upon my command.
Hesk crouched to all fours by the corpse.
"Forgive me, for I am a worm." He said, his voice full of scorn. He lapped
at the spreading pool of hot red and straightened, looking like a pleased cat.
He sat down. 
"I require sustenance, Admiral. And regardless of your feeble sacrifices
to my powers I will still require fresh blood on every possible occasion.
I am Vader to your emperor."
Raust's one eye gleamed horribly in the dark.
"Do Not Mention that Name." he said, his voice on the sharp edge of anger.
Raust was only human from the waist up, and then only barely so. His legs
and lower torso had been crushed. One arm had been ripped from the shoulder
by the indigs of the planet his shattered nav unit had dropped him on. He had
lost the eye to the attack of a predatory bird only moments later. When the
imperial troops, evacuating the failure at Endor, had found him hours
later, he was more dead than alive. Now, he was seated in a
powerchair that maintained his vital functions, his one remaining arm
spliced into a neural cradle that converted his nerve signals into motor
control. A bionic implant eye glinted dully in the empty socket. His skin
was sagging, half-melted by the tremendous blast of fire that had
destroyed his lower body and cauterized the wound so effectively, and darkly
spotted with age.

Despite all this, he still had the tactical brain that had made him first
in his year, every year, through his Officer Training. He had flown Tie
Fighters and Assault Gunboats during his time as a junior, and he had
commanded or been high in the command structure of most ships from a Frigate
through to a Super Star Destroyer. The Executioner, to be exact. He had
been third in command - the only high-ranking survivor of the catastrophe.
And the reports of Vader's treachery had seared him to the bone.
Hesk found it all rather amusing. Alive, the Emperor had been a sadistic
and cruel man, a foul perverted mass of undead flesh 

- no, he had been a hero and saviour of their race in a time of darkest
								 need 

			- He had slaughtered 
				millions 

	- he had saved the righteous 

					- he was the
						devil 

- he was God - 

Hesk's mind threatened to overload on him. His attacks were getting worse.
But his face betrayed not one flicker of his confusion.
He was Hesk the Warlock, and no-one else. He repeated the statement to
himself, a mantra of identity.
He would stay sane. He would.
Raust watched him silently.
"We are coming up on the position our patrol last reported in from. They
had encountered a strange vessel and were endeavouring to destroy it.
Their last transmission was something garbled about X-wings and then they
ceased to send. A scout frigate from Delta group was sent to investigate
and never returned. If the Rebels have developed a new craft it may be
dangerous to us. So we are going in force." A buzzer sounded.
"We're coming up on the system." He opened a connection and spoke to the
bridge crew. "Order the crews to their fighters. Interceptors to deploy
first with Assault Gunboat support, employing Ki's Wedge for maximum
coverage. And prepare the main gun. Raust out."

** Republic Frigate Excelsior. Conference room. **

Leia looked across the table at Riker.
"Well," she said, "That would seem to cover it. As the official
representative of the New Republic, I hereby welcome you and your crew
into the Alliance. You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Riker."
"Call me Will. You're not such a poor negotiator yourself, Princess Organa."
"If we're to be allies, you might as well call me Leia. Everyone else does."
"Very well. Leia."
"There's only one more thing, really. I don't suppose you came across an
X-Wing while you were out there?"
Riker shook his head sadly.
"I'm afraid not. That would be Commander Skywalker, am I right?"
"He's been missing so long... Even threepio has started to whinge about
missing artoo."
A comm unit bleeped.
"Princess! You've got to get off the Excelsior fast. The Sunfire is under
attack - we're needed -"
"Riker to Enterprise, prepare to beam back all crew members on my mark."
Riker snapped into his communicator.
"Can you get me clear as well?" Leia asked quickly. Riker nodded.
Wes Crusher and Alexander Worf came through the doors a second later.
Barclay was only a moment behind. Leia turned on her commlink.
"Han, Chewie, get the Falcon clear. I'll rendezvous in a while."
"Enterprise : Five to beam up. Energize!"
The sparkling of the Transporter effect took them clear.

They materialised in Transporter room three.
"Mr. Crusher, Mr. Worf, with me. Barclay, get down to engineering. Leia -
would you like to have a look at the bridge?"
As he marched down the corridor he tapped his comm badge.
"Riker to LaForge. Geordi, how are your repairs on the shuttle-bay doors
going?"
The voice had the slightly muffled tone of an enclosure suit. "We're still
working on it, Captain. We should be done in two hours."
"Very good, Riker out. Bridge! Open a Channel to the Millennium Falcon for
me and get General Solo."

** Deep Space, beyond the Republic Rim. **

The battle, one-sided as it was, raged still. Nimble X-wings sliced
through TIE squadrons, lasers blazing, eyes locked onto crosshairs. But
the slower Frigate was taking a pounding as green bolts ravaged the hull.
Quoroth, Blue Leader, slammed a dodging Interceptor with his cannons and
called to his squadron.
"Blue Group!! Somebody tell me what the Hell that Star Destroyer is doing!"
"He's just sitting there! He could have us creamed, but he's just sitting
there!"
On the Bridge of the Invictus, Raust's dry, leathery voice gave that
statement the lie direct.
It had taken Raust a year to perfect his weapon. Over fifteen additional
Plasma ring reactors had had to be installed to power the titanic beam.
"Fire." he said, evenly.

Along the hull of the Invictus, energy crackled, sparks a quarter of a
kilometer long building towards the nose of the ship. At the nose, the
huge projector lit up with an infernal glow.
A beam of something barely tangible chewed the frigate apart in a split
second. 
Quoroth screamed. He couldn't help himself. He had never seen firepower of
that magnitude. 
A TIE fighter came in on his tail as he stared in shock, and blew him apart.
The thin slit in the scar tissue where Raust's mouth should be curled
slightly at the edges.
The replay, slowed by a thousand times, showed the first impact of the
beam. The slender engineering boom snapped clean through as the Helix of
pure force sheared through the metal. The Tractor/Pressor helix could rip
a hole through a ship, on on a wider setting, carve up piecemeal anything
in a wide-aperture cone of destruction.

Deep in the bowels of the Invictus, Luke threw back his head in despair.
He had heard the throbbing generators and seen the flickering lights, and
a second later he had felt the tremor in the Force as the Sunfire died.
He understood the pain Ben had felt when he had sensed the destruction of
Alderaan. The crew of a Frigate was small, but it was closer... and he
knew it had been out looking for him.
He struggled to keep calm. He was standing at the edge of the Dark Side,
anger calling to him across the divide. 
He forced himself back from the mental precipice, using every remaining
ounce of his Jedi training.
He would not break. 
But the darkness mocked him and doubt seared his soul.


--
+=======================================================================+
| 				[]      				|
| 	Matt.R.Austin		[]   "We will return you to our normal	|
| M.R.Austin@bradford.ac.uk	[]   service as soon as we are certain	|
|				[]   what is normal anyway." 		|
|				[]  	 - Tricia MacMillan, HHGTTG	|
+=======================================================================+
Path: tivoli.tivoli.com!geraldo.cc.utexas.edu!cs.utexas.edu!howland.reston.ans.net!EU.net!uknet!strath-cs!bradford.ac.uk!mraustin
From: M.R.Austin@bradford.ac.uk (MR AUSTIN)
Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
Subject: Trek Wars Part VII
Date: 23 Mar 1995 22:49:31 GMT
Organization: University of Bradford
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Message-ID: <3ksttr$63r@columbia.acc.brad.ac.uk>
NNTP-Posting-Host: discovery.brad.ac.uk
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Xref: tivoli.tivoli.com alt.startrek.creative:7159


		Trek Wars Part VII - Into the Fray

** ISD Invictus. Private Quarters. **

In his chamber, Hesk clutched his head and tried to keep his mind from
shattering. The duality in his nature was killing him. The gestalt mind
was like an emulsion of water and oil : it kept separating into two
mutually incompatible halves. To make matters worse, the mindframe
changes were interfering with his somatic stability : his body was
restructuring itself in accordance with the predominant mindframe. The
blood he/they had consumed was making his badly-defined human stomach
heave. Once, it had known... they both had known... what and who they
were. Now, their mindframes had become so entangled, neither really knew
what was it's own memory and what belonged to the other.

Hesk's humaniform lost definition as the dark One gained a measure of
control. The white One's somatology began to recede, and the gestalt
focussed fiercely on retaining its integrity. Finally, the semi-molten
darkness reformed, adopting the familiar, smoothed shape. The Gestalt
forced open the boundaries of its mind and soared outward, searching.
There were some unpleasantly familiar sensations... not current, but some
kind of portent for the future... A feeling that made the dark One itch...
From some godforsaken part of the creature's gestalt consciousness, a
single letter formed. No. Not a letter. A name. The sensations... a figure
from future or past, a vision into the streams of time... the arrogant
laughter, the sneer of derision...
Q.
Q was coming.
Hesk's face remained calm, but both his minds were screaming.

** The Ravenflight. Sigma Foxtrot Sector. **

On the bridge of the Ravenflight, Picard touched the aft thrusters. There
was a subtle rumble in the fabric of the ship and Picard looked around.
What he saw made him jump.

Q was on his knees, fists clenched. His face was contorted and his eyes
blazed. For a moment, Picard thought the look was anger, but then he
realised what it was.
Q was in pain.
Even as the thought entered his mind he was struck with how empty a
statement that was. Q looked like he was dying. Every muscle was strained,
bloodless lips framing sharp white teeth, half-closed lids revealing
terrified eyes.

Then the world went white and they vanished.

Picard felt the light pass clean through him, so bright and blinding that
it seemed like a physical blow. He turned. The Ravenflight was glowing,
every faded colour blazing bright white. His companions seemed like
shadows of ordinary white against the tide of impossible brightness. Their
outlines seemed speed-blurred, and Picard found himself forced into speech.
"What is this?"
Q sniggered. It was not a pleasant sound. When Picard looked at him, he
knew something was wrong.

Q's eyes were filled with insane fire. His laughter was that of cracked
lunacy.

Picard closed his eyes and prayed.

** Kashyyyk, Republic Space. **

The Enterprise was on Red alert as it warped out of Kashyyyk orbit. The Falcon
was aboard, and Solo had snapped orders to the helm once on board. 
"Coruscant, at your best speed."
The Enterprise was at Warp six, and when General Solo had been told
exactly how fast that was, he had raised an eyebrow.
"That's pretty impressive. The Falcon will make Point Five in hyperspace :
that's a logarithmic scale with a theoretical maximum of one. It equates
to about 17 cee in normal space."
"Our ETA is about nine hours. Do you need anything?"
"We're all kind of fifth wheels around here until we arrive. We've got to
get to Ackbar and find out what in the hell is going on."
Riker considered for a moment.
"If you'll give me some information, we can set up a tactical tank on a
holodeck."
"A what?"
"A reduced map of the systems involved with all the known forces
displayed. It's a new control technique we're trying out for large battles
: it enables us to fight flexibly as a controlled fleet rather than a mob."
"You guys having Imperial problems?"
Riker shrugged. "The Klingon alliance is in the balance, the Romulans are
being quiet - which means they're planning something - the Ferengi have
tripled their prices into Gamma Quadrant because of the Sispaari conflict,
the Cardassians are pushing for extradition of political prisoners to the
extent of covert raiding... At least here you've only got one set of
enemies to keep an eye on."
Han gave one of his mournful smiles. "Yeah. But there's a lot of places to
hide." He fell silent, and Riker realised he was thinking of Commander
Skywalker. By all accounts the two were close.
"Come on," Han said, shaking himself out of his reverie. "Let's see this
tactics setup."

They made their way down to the holodeck, and were surprised to meet
Alexander Worf and one of the X-wing pilots coming out of holodeck Six.
Worf stood to attention. He lacked his father's beard, but the family
resemblance was clear. His eyes burned with the same determination. 
"Captain."
"Mr. Worf, as you were."
"Permission to speak freely, sir?"
Riker stopped as he was ushering Solo into the holodeck.
"Granted." He said, with some puzzlement.
"I suggest you try the program marked Incom Space Superiority Fighter."
"Incom..." Riker began, wondering what that was.
"The X-wing, Captain. It is supremely manoeuvrable, well armed... a true
warrior's craft."
Riker smiled. So like his father. "I'll keep it in mind." He tapped the
door control. The holodeck sealed.
"Access file Tactank. Ignore subfiles. Prepare to download information
from temporary storage."
A cubic tank, some fifteen feet in each dimension, appeared in the center
of the room. The space within could be scaled, rotated, zoomed, weighted
for individual force's strength and effectiveness indexes, and even made
to run potential engagement strategies as accelerated time simulations at
any level from individual starships to full scale galactic war.
Solo looked at the display and nodded. "We ought to get the others here.
Leia, Chewie... the Rogue squadron pilots. We have this saying : two heads
are-"
"Better than one."
"Ain't we got fun now," He said, with one of his trademark lopsided grins.
Riker smiled back and tapped his communicator badge.
"Riker to All hands. Can the visiting Republic personnel make their way to
holodeck six. Out."

The Excelsior came out of Hyperspace alert and ready. Ma'Baan's
wide-spectrum sight saw the wreckage almost as the Scanning officer
reported in.
"Scan the wreckage for energy residuals. I want to know what happened
hear. Get Patrol wings out there and have all crews stand ready. And get
us aligned for the jump out. I want all hands prepared for emergency
withdrawal. Go."
The crew rolled smoothly into action.
The cloaked Imperial probe droid noted the polished moves. Distant, the
Invictus received its report.

Raust studied the reports with interest.
"Interesting."
Hesk snarled. "We cower here like insects when we ride the shoulders of a
giant."
Raust turned the baleful glare of his eye on Hesk.
"You are a fool. You would have us leap to battle against a fly purely to
prove your own ferocity."
Hesk froze. The gestalt mind raged. "You," he hissed, "are a coward. You
hold the most destructive power in the universe and you refuse to bring it
to bear on those feeble mortals-"
"SILENCE!" Raust's implant eye flared. A targeting spot nestled warmly on
Hesk's forehead. It was not known how many weapons were built into the
powerchair, but no-one doubted that there were many.
"The Emperor held the most destructive power in the universe. When the
betrayal came, it could not save him. Power is a fool's trinket : skill is
the stroke of the master."
Hesk spat on the floor.
Raust leaned just slightly forward.
"Learn this lesson, /abomination/." His voice was as black as midnight, and
threaded with steel. "When a strong man guards his house, he controls
it... until a stronger man comes. Then the weaker of the two is broken and
bound and the stronger free to take of what he will. The Emperor trusted
too greatly in his own abilities, at the end. He underestimated an enemy,
and overestimated the loyalty of the accursed Vader. I will walk as the
cautious cat until the moment to pounce is right."
His eyes held the glow of infernal light.
"And then all will know that the Empire has returned."

Luke could feel something. Out at the fringes of his force sense,
there was... a thin edge of a mental screech, something unlike anything he
had felt before.
A God is dying, he thought. 
His head Sagged. His legs had been broken with a metal bar, but he closed
off the pain and the sight of the twisted flesh. In his mind a light was
burning.
"Ben..." he said.
"No." came the answer. In his minds eye, a figure formed. He wore an
unfamiliar uniform, and his face looked tired... but with a cold arrogance
that gave him an air of nobility. "Hold to the light, boy. Cling to it.
We are on our way."
"Who are you?" Luke called out in his mind.
"I am the cat that walks by himself, and all times and all places are the
same to me. I am Q." The face seemed almost to smile. "Stay with the
light. Stay with the light." 
He faded. 

For the first time in an eternity of pain, Luke dared to hope.


--
+=======================================================================+
| 				[]      				|
| 	Matt.R.Austin		[]   "We will return you to our normal	|
| M.R.Austin@bradford.ac.uk	[]   service as soon as we are certain	|
|				[]   what is normal anyway." 		|
|				[]  	 - Tricia MacMillan, HHGTTG	|
+=======================================================================+
Path: tivoli.tivoli.com!geraldo.cc.utexas.edu!cs.utexas.edu!howland.reston.ans.net!pipex!uknet!strath-cs!bradford.ac.uk!mraustin
From: M.R.Austin@bradford.ac.uk (MR AUSTIN)
Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
Subject: Trek Wars Part VIII
Date: 23 Mar 1995 22:49:56 GMT
Organization: University of Bradford
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		Trek Wars Part VIII - Birds of Prey

** U.S.S. Lyman. En route to Deep Space Nine. Personal Quarters. **

Data was running three simultaneous data inputs - one to each eye and the
third audio only to his ear - when the communicator bleeped for his attention.
He tapped the badge and the communicator opened the channel.
"This is Captain Hagmar. We're coming up on DS9, ETA about twelve minutes."
"Thank you, Captain. If you could inform my other staff for me. I am
rather preoccupied at present."
"Ah-" the Captain cleared his throat "There's another small matter
concerning one of your staff."
Data turned down the input rate on his audio channel to better focus on the
problem. 
"Proceed?"
"It's the Bajoran. She slugged two ensigns, a lieutenant, a commander,
and, ah, myself in a little fracas about an hour ago." The Captain rubbed
his jaw gently.
"Lieutenant (J.G.) Ro?"
No-one, the Captain thought, no-one but Data could pronounce brackets in a
sentence. "What was the cause?"
"As I understand it, one of the ensigns tried to hit on her."
"She was struck first?"
"No, he, ah, tried to romance her. She booted him in the... reproductive
system. His friend tried to intervene and got a black eye and a bloody
nose for his trouble. After that it all kind of escalated."
"I see. What is your opinion of these events?"
"My opinion is she's got a great uppercut and a mean right hook and I
wouldn't like to meet her in a darkened sub-corridor. But she's on your
staff, technically it's your jurisdiction."
"If you would send her to my quarters?"
"I'll get her released from the Brig and send her down."
Data unhooked the inputs and dedicated the maximum possible runtime to the
problem. Lieutenant Ro was proving to be more troubling by the day.

** Republic Cruiser Excelsior. Perimiter space. **

The Excelsior completed it's sensor sweep. Ma'Baan double-timed across the
bridge to the console and leaned over to examine the screen. With
irritation, he dropped one pair his internal eyelids against the strong UV
light of the screen. 
"The Sunfire is so much diced scrap, sir. We read plenty of TIE fighter
cannon strikes, but nothing big enough to reduce a modified Frigate to..."
he paused, lost for words, before gesturing helplessly at the wreckage.
"*that*. In fact, we read nothing at all. It's like something physically
mangled it. Scrunched it up like so much wet paper."
"Get the X-wings back on board and give me as much deep sensor scanning of
the surrounding space as you can. We're looking for a cloaked probe of
some sort. Watch all the frequencies for transmissions, even just bursts.
Order the crew to jump stations and divert all power to shields. Just keep
the dorsal turret arrays ready and a couple of proton torpedoes hot."
"Got it, sir. Should I transmit a signal to Coruscant-"
"Do I look like a Nerf-herder to you? This is way too hot to trust to
anything bar word of mouth. How about the black boxes?"
"The dorsal one's been found, slit neatly in two. They're bringing it in
anyway, in case the techs can retrieve anything. The bridge one is missing,
presumed destroyed, and the tail one's intact but, according to the
readings, utterly demagnetised. All the storage, even the core half-stack
unit that's supposed to survive even if you drop it from the ionosphere."
"I think it would be something of an understatement to say that things are
taking a distinctly nasty turn..." Ma'Baan said, blinking rapidly in his
agitation.
"Sir! I'm reading-" The sensor lieutenant never finished his sentence.
Ma'Baan saw it.
It was a raw hole in space, as if something had punched through from the
other side. To his sight, the rent blazed with colours : whirling,
cavorting, spilling ice-cold blues and fiery reds through the divide.
Something was straining through the hole, a ship of unfamiliar design. 
"Jump to lightspeed! NOW! Magog and Rietzche save us all, go NOW!!!" The
first officer howled, and the navigator threw the lever. The stars blurred.

** The Ravenflight. Bridge. **

Picard looked up, slowly, barely daring to believe they might be back in
normal space. He looked for Q. 
Q was immaculate, draped relaxedly across a velvet chaise longue that had
definitely not been on the bridge when they entered... whatever it was.
"Q?" Picard enquired, his voice betraying the tension.
"And the rest is silence." Q said, his voice almost serious. 
"Are you alright?"
"What a ridiculous question. I'm Immortal, Picard, I don't catch head
colds or break bones or whatever it is you squishy lumps of protoplasm do."
"A simple yes would have done very adequately. Perhaps you'd care to get
out of the chair and tell me what comes next?"
Q beckoned Picard over to the chair. Picard, feeling more than
vaguely irritated by this game, walked over to Q and crouched to bring
their faces to eye level.
"Mon Capitaine, I... can't seem to move my legs." Q whispered.
"Q, this is no time to play games."
"You want to play games? Get the chessboard out. I can't feel or move my
legs. My materialisation is all out of sync because of the exposure to
Darktime... This, for example, was supposed to be leather and I was
supposed to be sitting in it, not sprawling across it. I'll sort myself
out given time, but until then I suggest you occupy yourself with checking
the others. Time is not exactly in plentiful supply, around here."
Picard sighed and reached to tap his communicator.
Damn. His subconscious was still firmly tuned to Starfleet methods. No
communicator badges on this ship.
He walked purposefully through to the larger room : larger, in that one
person could pace back and forth if no-one else was in there. The whole
internal layout of the ship puzzled him : this had certainly never been
built at the Martian shipyards, nor any other Starfleet site. It was a
compact ship, a halfway house between a shuttle and a small cargo
freighter. Everything, to his Starfleet-trained eye, seemed wrong,
somehow. 
He killed that train of thought as he entered the large room and busied
himself. "Is anybody seriously injured?" He asked, matter-of factly.
"I feel like someone kicked me in the ribs, from the inside. But it's passing,
and there doesn't seem to be any internal bleeding." Lansen spoke up, his
perpetual grin a little faded.
"I'm fine." Koigot said, and returned to silent introspection.
"Nothing here." Vash said cheerily.
Tallera simply nodded.
"I'm... alright, Picard." The Raven's voice was a little disoriented.
"Are you sure?" Picard asked, concerned by the odd lilt. It was almost as
though he were drunk : the tone was slurred, and his balance was off.
"I have to talk to Q." The Raven said. He stalked out at speed, his
disorientation seemingly gone in a flash. Picard looked around the
others. Vash shrugged. With a small sigh, Picard turned and headed back
toward the bridge.

The door to the bridge was still open when Picard arrived. From the
corridor, he caught just a snippet of the conversation.
"Why did you bring me here?"
"Oh, stop being such a baby : I though you were meant to be a mighty warrior?"
"The Force is with me... Picard! Show yourself!"
Picard stepped onto the bridge. The Raven was looming menacingly over Q,
his eyes glowing brightly through the slits in his mask. 
"Let him be, Raven. Tell me what you were talking about."
"I want to know where we are."
"Q hasn't seen fit to tell me that yet. And I know from experience that
he's as stubborn as a mule, so I shouldn't bother with him."
The Raven continued to stare at Q.
"I'm quite capable of taking care of myself, Picard." Q said, sarcastically.
With a flurry of motion, he kicked the Raven halfway across the bridge.
The Raven somersaulted neatly and landed on his feet. One hand went to his
belt, and Picard saw for a fleeting second that the hand strayed to a
tubular device hooked on his belt rather than to the sword slung at his
side. But then the Raven growled, and lowered his hand. Q stretched
languorously and got to his feet.
"Well, that would appear to be that. Shall we continue?"

The Enterprise came out of warp and inserted herself neatly into Coruscant
orbit. Almost immediately, the hail came from the surface.
"This is Mon Mothma. I want to speak to Leia Organa immediately."
"This is Captain Riker of the Starship Enterprise. We'll put you through."
Under his breath, he murmured to Troi, "I feel like a secretary." Out
loud, he continued, "Computer, location of Princess Leia Organa."
"Princess Leia Organa is in Turbolift A/7C, en route to the Bridge."
"She'll be here directly, Mon Mothma." Riker said, brusquely. As if on
cue, the turbolift doors swished open and Princess Leia and Han Solo
stepped out.
"Mon Mothma's on the line for you."
"Mon Mothma."
"Leia. Report, please."
"We're all fine. I've extended an official New Republic membership to the
crew of the Enterprise. And incidentally, this ship is amazing. The techs
would go wild for some of the things the Enterprise can do. Matter
Transporters, Food replicators... on amenities they're way ahead of us."
"What about Luke?"
"Nothing, I'm afraid. They're newcomers : I'll explain as soon as we can
get into a one-to-one conference. But essentially, they're okay in my book."
"Your official Jedi book?"
"From what Luke's taught me, they check out A-1." She turned to Riker.
"Can you and a few aides transport down with me to the surface?"
"I'd be glad to. Counsellor Troi, lieutenant Worf, come with me. Mr.
Crusher, you have the Conn."
Wes nodded, his face set in a grim expression. What had happened to him,
Riker wondered. The Traveller had nigh-on ordered him to return to
Starfleet : had that rejection soured him? Or was it the "incident" so
obliquely referred to in his Academy files? Certainly, his posting to the
Enterprise had been mostly secured by the combined influences of Admiral
Picard and the one man that everybody at Starfleet respected : Boothby,
the Groundsman at the Academy. 
He shook such thoughts from his head and entered the Turbolift.
"Transporter Room." he told the lift, and the doors closed. The lift began
to descend and he began to brace himself for the forthcoming meeting with
Mon Mothma.

** Deep Space Nine. **

Data had spoken at length with Lieutenant Ro, at such length that they had
docked at DS9 before he was finished. He was going to have to configure a
whole new subroutine for the "Relationships" program, dealing with
unwanted advances. Emotions continued to fascinate him : lately, he had
become particularly interested in the language of emotions : namely,
profanity. The human race alone had developed more offensive terms than
seemed reasonable. When you started to examine the profanity of the
Tellarite race, though,  you realised what a truly inventive species could
do. They had over forty-six thousand "swear words" for dealing with
business transactions alone.
He took down his central network for a few hundredths of a second - the
android equivalent of closing your eyes and sighing - and then returned to
the problem.
"I am beginning to understand your reasons for striking the Ensigns, but
your actions against the higher officers puzzle me. Particularly your
attack on the captain."
"I didn't know he was the Captain. He wasn't in uniform."
Data accessed his "stern" physiology file at level 2.
"I took you for this post at the recommendation of Counsellor Troi. I trust
you will not render her faith in you unsupportable. That is all." he
reverted to standard pattern. "Now, we must disembark."

Deep Space Nine was an intriguing place, Data decided. The Cardassian
Architecture, while obviously more functional than decorative, had a
particular style to it that would bear more intense scrutiny at a later
date. He spotted O'Brien immediately.
"Data! Welcome to DS9. I got Sisko to let me greet you, so we can talk
about things while we go to his office. How are you?"
"My physical condition is highly satisfactory, Miles. How are you? And
how are Keiko and your daughter?"
"We're all fine, but there's some bad things going on in general. Gul
Dukat is in conference with Sisko at the moment : something about new
security arrangements..."

As they drew closer to Sisko's office, angry voices could be heard.
"...absolutely not! They're Federation citizens, they have a right to be
on this station-"
"The recent rise in Bajoran terrorist activity forces this move, Sisko. If
you expect us to attend the Diplomatic Talks here, we insist all
Bajorans are removed from the station first. Only under those conditions
will we attend. Otherwise, you can - frankly - forget it." There was a
tight, cruel smile that accompanied those words.
"I will not be party to the wholesale removal of every Bajoran on this
station. I will not condone such blatant racism-"
"And we will not expose our personnel to risk, Sisko. Starfleet Command
have authorised this : I challenge you to take it up with them."
There was a moment's silence.
"Gul Dukat, I hereby... accede to your request, although I note for the
record that I personally object to this on the grounds that it is
discrimination of the worst kind. I'll begin clearing the station at
mid-day tomorrow. Now, if you'll excuse me?"
Gul Dukat walked out, past Data and O'Brien. His face bore a look of
tightly contained victory.
O'Brien watched him go with a sour face. Then he knocked quietly on
Sisko's door.
"Commander Data to see you, sir."
"Come in. Welcome to Deep Space Nine, Commander Data. I want to talk to
you about your withdrawal from the Logistics Conference. Excuse me for a
moment, won't you?" He tapped the communicator.
"Major Kira to my Office in ten minutes, please." he tapped it again to
close the channel, and turned to Data with an expectant look.
"I have received a communication from an old friend who wishes me to
investigate a disturbance in the Sigma Foxtrot sector. I intend to leave my
staff here to take notes on the conference for me."
"If it's reason enough for you, then it's reason enough for me. But a lot
of those who are attending were wanting to see you there. I only point it
out because they might be disappointed if you don't attend."
"I feel that this request takes precedence..."
A short, intense woman burst into the office.
"What does Dukat want?"
"Major, I'm in conference-"
"I don't care. What does Dukat want?"
Sisko put his hands to his face and sighed.
"He wants all Bajorans off the station by the date of the Diplomatics Talks.
And he's got Starfleet backing on it."
"That's ridiculous. Even if you clear out the Bajorans, they could hire
an assassin or set a bomb to get him-"
"I know. It seems to be just a gesture, a little statement that he means
business. He doesn't care about the threat : he just wants to flex a
little political muscle, show his dislike as blatantly as possible."
"So we have to put up with it?"
"I'm afraid we don't have a choice. This isn't some trade conference :
this might just stop all out war. And all out war could well mean Bajor
goes back to the Cardassians : Our fleet is stretched to the thinnest its
ever been."
Data raised a hand. "Excuse me, Major. There is a Bajoran among my staff :
the Logistics Conference is expected to last some time, is it not?"
"That's what Starfleet's hoping. We've got scientists from all over coming
to this conference, pushing the non-combatant nature of it and gambling on
the old adage about never destroying what you might need to get what you
want. Namely, the Cardies won't blow a whole station away to secure the
place. Besides, the Hood is on station, holding position five minutes warp
travel away. First sign of trouble, we evacuate the whole station
excepting the weaponry officers and their crews. And me."
"I may have to reassign Ensign Ro to my personal detail in order to clear
this situation. May I use your communicator?"
"Go right ahead."

Data tapped the comm panel into life and entered his request. Behind him,
he could hear Sisko and Major Kira arguing. He finished submitting his
request, and turned around.
"Major Kira?"
"What is it?"
"My Starfleet files on you mention a background with a Bajoran terrorist
group."
"What about it?"
"Do you have personal experience of Guerilla fighting?"
"A little."
"Then I have a proposition for you. I have received a communication
regarding raider activity in the Sigma Foxtrot sector. You must depart
this station before the conference. I am willing to offer you a consultant
post aboard a vessel on a mission to that sector."
"I'm flattered, but it doesn't do anything to help the situation with
Bajor, now does it?"
"It could. As I am sure you are aware, the Sigma Foxtrot sector is
innocuous enough alone : but it does connect on two neutral territories
which, in turn, connect on to Hostile space. If either of these sworn
neutrals is assisting the Cardassians, it would constitute an illegal act
under Organian treaty stipulations. Thereby forcing the Cardassians to either
retreat or surrender."
"I'll think it over."
She left, obviously in deep thought.
"I believe I have just 'lied'." said Data, at length. "My CPU is in a
considerable loop."
"I thought you couldn't lie?" Sisko said, interested despite himself.
"I cannot deliver false information knowingly. The Cardassian possibility
is one of the options regarding the origin of the raiders. It has a
possibility of two point zero six eight times ten to the power of minus
fifty-seven, to one. Would that not constitute a 'lie'?"
"Not in my book."
The Comm bleeped.
"Commander Sisko. I've just hauled in a couple of Mantynes on drunk and
disorderly charges. They're insisting they talk to you. They claim they
are delegates for the Logistics conference."
"I'll be there as soon as I can, Odo." Sisko said, and tapped the comm
offline. He had barely opened his mouth when the comm bleeped again.
"Commander, there's a disturbance on Pylon Two. Two captains are bitching
about whose cargo is whose : they demand to speak to you..."
"I'm sorry, Commander Data, you'll have to excuse me."
"Of course, Commander Sisko. I will make preparations-"
Sisko's communicator bleeped loudly, two high-pitched wails. The emergency
code. He very nearly punched it in his haste.
"Commander, a Klingon Bird-of-Prey just decloaked half an A.U. out from
the station! They're hailing-"
The Desk Comm lit up, and Data and Sisko moved round to view the screen.
An imperious Klingon face stared back at them.
"This is Captain Worf of the Klingon Scout Vessel Heart Of Fury. I was
told I could find Commander Data here?"

** Coruscant. Command Control. **

The main battle room at Coruscant was in full swing. A dozen techs were
wrestling with a Radar display, while the operators dodged around them,
frantically punching buttons. Admiral Ackbar was issuing sharp commands
to the rushing teams. At the head of the room stood Mon Mothma, cooly
commanding, every inch the confident leader. She dismissed the
determined-looking man in combat leathers - Commander Katharn, of Special
Forces, Leia thought, but the man was already leaving and she had other
things to contend with - and turned to greet them.
"Mon Mothma, may I introduce Captain William Riker, Counsellor Deanna Troi,
and Security Cheif Alexander Rhozhenko Worf, all of the Starship Enterprise."
Mon Mothma accepted their extended hands, not rushing, nor wasting a moment.
"I would dearly love to become better acquainted, but the situation sadly
does not allow." She indicated the large display before them.
"At our last count, there are over a hundred Imperial ships of Capital
Class or greater still unaccounted for, and that figure is a conservative
estimate. We believed for a while that we had failed to account for a
Grand Admiral, a mistake which would have weighed heavily, but the log
entries concerned are... ambiguous at best, and the twelve named have been
accounted for. Our friends in Special Forces infiltrated an Imperial
Dreadnought and has just delivered me this."
She tapped a control on the panel, and the display showed a slightly
overweight man in what, for a human, would have passed for his mid thirties.
"This is Admiral Raust. He was supposedly aboard the Executioner at Endor,
but it looks like he survived that, which give you some idea of his
resourcefulness. He has distributed a call to arms over the Imperial
Network, amounting in effect to a declaration of War against the New
Republic. His files in the palace Archives indicate that he was inclined
to be over-cautious and fight battles from a self-preservationist
viewpoint. Evidently something has spurred him on. It may be that he has
some new weapon, or it may be-" Deanna felt a wave of emotion
wash over the woman, a wave of bitter grief and pain that did not show
itself in Mon Mothma's fine-sculpted face "-that they hold Commander
Skywalker. Or another factor entirely may enter the equation."
A comm officer leapt to his feet and hurried towards them.
"Mon Mothma, Admiral Ackbar sir, the Excelsior just jumped in. The Sunfire
has been destroyed. And they report a... rip in space from which something
was emerging."
"Order the Fleet to standby." Ackbar said, his voice carrying clearly
across the stunned room. "Prepare for war."



--
+=======================================================================+
| 				[]      				|
| 	Matt.R.Austin		[]   "We will return you to our normal	|
| M.R.Austin@bradford.ac.uk	[]   service as soon as we are certain	|
|				[]   what is normal anyway." 		|
|				[]  	 - Tricia MacMillan, HHGTTG	|
+=======================================================================+
Path: tivoli.tivoli.com!geraldo.cc.utexas.edu!cs.utexas.edu!swrinde!pipex!uknet!strath-cs!bradford.ac.uk!mraustin
From: M.R.Austin@bradford.ac.uk (MR AUSTIN)
Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
Subject: Trek Wars Part X
Date: 23 Mar 1995 22:54:45 GMT
Organization: University of Bradford
Lines: 212
Message-ID: <3ksu7l$63r@columbia.acc.brad.ac.uk>
NNTP-Posting-Host: discovery.brad.ac.uk
X-Newsreader: TIN [version 1.2 PL2]
Xref: tivoli.tivoli.com alt.startrek.creative:7162


			Trek Wars Part X
			  Redemption

** Enterprise. Coruscant Orbit. **

Riker ran his hands through his hair and sighed.
"Evaluation, inferences and conclusions. And Coffee would be good."
There was a small chuckle at the comment. They all knew how he felt.
"Deanna?"
"They are suspicious, of course - as we would be if someone told us a
similar story. The appearance of Q notched us some points, though :
Evidently these 'Jedi' have considerable social standing. To be more
specific, they were 'the guardians of Peace and Justice in the Old
Republic.', according to Leia."
"Any sense of subterfuge, or similar?"
"None. They are extremely keen to find new allies : after so many years of
war, they're reluctant to trust in strangers, but at the same time they
want to be able to trust, to let go the old prejudices. In general, they seem
to be forward thinking, open-minded, and they have a team spirit of quite
phenomenal proportions. I'd trust them."
"Alexander, Tactical analysis."
"Starfleet has always based its tactics on Naval thinking : it builds
starships like the ancient destroyers and cruisers of the ocean-going
fleets. Here, the tactics are based on Airborne conflict. The mind-frame
is that of the old earth or Klingon 'Fighter Pilots' : Starfleet thinks in
terms of vast, powerful ships, the Repubic thinks in terms of small, fast,
manouvrable craft. To be honest, I think they have a point : the Incom
T-65, the "X-Wing", is a case in point. The larger, 'capital' ships are
built like naval cruisers, however, with craft like the Frigates falling
somewhere in-between. Most of the battles are fought between fighter
craft, with the larger ships either firing from a distance, sacrificing
accuracy for safety, or being attacked by waves of fighters. They can't
conceive of two large ships battling it out : they're too valuable to
risk. The battles become shifted to a personal level, each pilot or
gunnery officer operating more-or-less freely within certain parameters
determined by their tacticians. They have a saying : 'If you see it, hit
it.' In other words, if you have a chance to take out an enemy fighter,
do so."
"Sounds chaotic."
"With due respect, sir, I would be hard pressed to think of any battle
that has not been chaotic in one sense or another."
"Point taken. So. In general, we are an oddity in their tactical mind-set."
"Yes. Although our armaments are superior to theirs in accuracy, and our
manouvrability is perhaps greater than a ship of comparable size."
"My feelings are, a good night's sleep would be a big tactical asset."
There were murmurs of heartfelt agreement.
"We'll reconvene here tomorrow at 0800, unless the situation changes
radically during the night. Mr Crusher, If you're rested, then you have
the conn."
Wes nodded, face as grim as ever.
"If you have a moment, though, I'd like to speak to you alone. Dismissed."

** The Heart of Fury, en route to Sigma Foxtrot sector. Personal Quarters. **

Laren sat in her sparse room and thought, long and hard.
Her time with the Maquis had been a disastrous mistake. They'd had a
vision of sorts, a sense of honour, when she'd joined. But as time passed
and the Cardassians grew more and more a distant enemy, as the rest of
Bajor began to put its pain behind it and move on, the Maquis had grown
increasingly fanatical. While politicians pushed for rebuilding and closer
ties with the Federation, the Maquis became more bitter. Eventually, she
had fled their company, and, with the sad knowledge that she could never
again be a true part of Bajoran Society, gone begging to starfleet.
Admiral Picard had personally sponsored her re-application to the academy,
against heavy flak from those who remembered her all too well. She'd made
it to Leiutenant, albeit Junior Grade, and thought she could leave it all
behind. But every time someone came on to her, like that ensign on their
transport, she would lash out. Deanna had diagnosed it in her, before she
re-applied : Fear of placing emotional trust in anyone other than herself. 
The door chime sounded, a more aggressive note than the Federation's
polite bleep. She said "Come!", then had to get up to operate the control.
No voice control on this ship.
It was the other Bajoran, the woman who'd joined them on DS9. Kira Nerys.
"May I come in?"
Ro nodded, curtly.
For a moment, Kira regarded her.
"I think you think you need to be alone with your thoughts."
Ro nodded again, her face carefully neutral.
"I think you're wrong. You know, I used to be pretty active in the Bajoran
Resistance."
"I don't want to talk about that."
"Oh? Well, that's life, I suppose. We all have to talk about unpleasant
things. We all have to live with bad decisions, We all have to face the
fact that everything changes with time... for the worse, as well as for
the better."
Ro motioned her in with a wave of her hand.
"I don't want to stay long. We're going to be coming up on the sector,
soon. I just wanted to say, well, any time you want to talk to someone in
the same situation, you know my name."
Ro sighed. "Your situation-"
"Don't make assumptions," Kira said, and there was a hard edge to her
words. She softened her voice a little.
"A few months ago, we had to stop a bomber on DS9. He wasn't just hitting
Cardassians - ordinary people were getting hurt, even killed. And then we
found out he was working with the Cardassians, just to stir up anger in
Starfleet. The bomber was one of my oldest friends, my mentor and teacher.
Having to betray him was a painful thing... but it was the right thing."
She brushed at her uniform, and turned to leave.
"Kira..." Ro said, her voice uncertain. Kira stood, waiting.
"Thanks."
"Call me Nerys." Kira said with a small smile.

** Enterprise. Conference room. **

"Mr Crusher... Wes. This is entirely off the record. You've... changed a
lot, since our last tour together. You're sharper, more professional...
and colder"
"Captain, I don't want to discuss this-"
"Dammit, Wes, this isn't Captain Riker talking to you, this is Will. I
want to know, as a friend. What happened to the Wes Crusher I used to know?"
Wes' shoulders slumped.
"You probably know the Traveller told me to go back to Starfleet. He said
I needed the change. Quoted Dune, in fact : 'Change stirs something
inside, wakes a part of us that is normally asleep. The Sleeper must
awaken.' So I did as I was told. I spent a lot of time talking with
Boothby, with Admiral Picard when he was on Earth. But I just didn't feel
the same. I didn't belong, anywhere. I hadn't belonged in Starfleet since
the... incident. But it was worse than that. Everything seemed old, and
tired, and not a part of the world I used to know. It was like all the
colour had drained out of the universe. I drifted from one meaningless
relationship to another, I did as little work as possible. Then I ran into
Robin again. She was doing an advanced course with some of the same
modules as me. We... spent a lot of time together. For a while, I felt like
I had some meaning back in my life." He fell silent.
"What happened next?" Prompted Will quietly.
"We were doing that test on the Moonbase - you know, where one
of the Cadets is supposed to be an agent, and you have to defend yourself?
Everyone is so suspicious of each other they fight it out, without any
need for intervention. Robin and I worked together, because we knew we
could trust each other. But..." He paused. "A maintenance sweep had missed
a damaged catwalk. I went over it first, and she followed... Half way
across, the whole section she was on sheared off and fell, taking her with
it. I dived for her, ripped my cheek open on a torn strut..." a finger
traced the scar, almost in reflex. "She didn't die. Gravity wasn't strong
enough. But her back was broken in two places. She didn't blame me. Not
even through the hours of regen therapy, not even when she fell again and
again trying to walk, not ever. But I blamed myself. And I promised myself
that I'd never put myself in a position where I could hurt someone that
badly again."
Will nodded.
"Wes, I don't know what to say... except that there are times when you're
stuck between the Devil and cold black vacuum, and then you've got to risk
it. Theres a good line from an old film. 'You take a chance getting up in
the morning, crossing the Street, or sticking your face in a fan.'"
That brought a small smile to Wes' face, and for a second, Riker saw a
flash of the old Wes.
"Point taken, Captain. I'll think it through."
"Wes... Don't think you have to carry the whole burden. Deanna will always
be there if you want a pro, but if you just want to talk... follow the
sound of the trombone."
That really did make Wes smile. "I'll listen for the bum notes. Now, I
think I'm due on the bridge."

** ISD Invictus. Hesk's quarters. **

Hesk was sitting cross-legged in his room, fighting with himself, when
there was a flash of light.
"Well, well, well. What do we have here?" came the familiar, arrogant voice.
"Q." Acknowledged Hesk. He shifted his position slightly.
Q sighed. "Now I know why I was so keen to get rid of you. Always
aggressive, aren't you?"
"Of course. One of the finer traits the Continuum saw to it that I got."
"You remember, then?"
"Oh, yes. Very, very clearly, now." His eyes flared. "You SONOFABITCH!" He
uncurled into a leap. Q stopped him in midair with a gesture.
"Not a good move. You've learned nothing since we abandoned you. I just
came to tell you... I'm here to correct a few mistakes. And you, my sticky
friend, are number one on my to-do list." He leaned closer to Hesk's
contorted face. "If I were you, and thank the continuum I'm not, I'd be
watching my back every moment of the day and night."
Through what titanic effort Q did not know, but Hesk forced words through
his immobile throat. 
"I'll have your steaming corpse at my feet next time, Q."
Q smiled.
"My friend, you are already dead. I've seen you killed. What I'm going to
do will be much worse. Much, much worse." He raised two fingers to his
temple, saluted casually. "Be seeing you." 
He vanished, and Hesk fell to the deck. But Q's mocking laughter echoed
through the chamber.
There came a signal at the door.
"Admiral Raust wants to-"
Hesk tore the man's stomach out and left him choking blood on the floor.
He began to walk towards Raust's quarters. A young ensign was a little
slow in getting out of his way, and Hesk ripped his terrified face off for
him. He glowered at the others in the corridor, and dived into them with a
scream of anger. By the time he reached Raust's quarters, he was coated in
blood.
He practically ripped the door off its tracks as he entered.
"What!" he screamed, flecks of blood flying from his lips.
Raust turned the baleful glow of his bionic eye on Hesk.
"Look at this."
He pointed at the screen. On it the blue-red tear in the void showed. The
Ravenflight appeared.
"If you examine this ship, you'll notice some interesting things about it."
Hesk glowered.
"It's an Old Republic ship. Substantially altered, but I'd know those
lines anywhere. That, there on the screen, is a Koenyessar Maktor IV. More
commonly known as the StarSword."
Hesk shrugged.
"That line was built specifically for use by one particular group of people."
He paused, for effect. "The Jedi."


--
+=======================================================================+
| 				[]      				|
| 	Matt.R.Austin		[]   "We will return you to our normal	|
| M.R.Austin@bradford.ac.uk	[]   service as soon as we are certain	|
|				[]   what is normal anyway." 		|
|				[]  	 - Tricia MacMillan, HHGTTG	|
+=======================================================================+
Path: tivoli.tivoli.com!geraldo.cc.utexas.edu!cs.utexas.edu!swrinde!pipex!uknet!strath-cs!bradford.ac.uk!mraustin
From: M.R.Austin@bradford.ac.uk (MR AUSTIN)
Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
Subject: Trek Wars part XI
Date: 23 Mar 1995 22:55:05 GMT
Organization: University of Bradford
Lines: 189
Message-ID: <3ksu89$63r@columbia.acc.brad.ac.uk>
NNTP-Posting-Host: discovery.brad.ac.uk
X-Newsreader: TIN [version 1.2 PL2]
Xref: tivoli.tivoli.com alt.startrek.creative:7164


			Trek Wars Part XI
	 		 Unto the Breech

** The Heart of Fury. **

The lighting on the bridge was subdued, and the redly glowing light
indicated silent running. They were cloaked, preparing for entry to the
Sigma Foxtrot sector. Worf issued a few rapid commands in Klingon, then
turned to Data and his party.
"We've got very little to start with beyond Admiral-" He stopped. "Beyond
Picard's co-ordinates. And your knowledge."
He turned on the main viewscreen, showing a three dimensional map of the
local sectors.
"So, Mr Data, If you would give me your analysis?"
"The information I received from Jean-Luc was what might be termed
'Sketchy'. In essence, the information does not correspond to any known
craft, nor to the particular design ideas of any known race. I would
suggest we continue to the site of the destroyed craft and examine it there."
"Major Kira? Lieutenant Ro? Do you have anything to add?"
"If I were new to this sector... which most of the indicators would seem
to suggest... then I'd stay very much where I was. Staying where you are
means you get familiar with the locale, and you don't risk running into an
angry neighbour in unfamiliar territory. It's a different matter entirely
if they know this area well : but for a group trapped behind enemy lines,
in uncertain territory, staying where you are is the smartest thing you
can do. It's not a good thing, but it's your best option." Ro said,
quietly. Kira nodded.
"I go with that."
"There is one more point. We do not know whether these ships have the
technology to penetrate the cloaking field. How much energy can we direct
to battle systems before the Cloak becomes inactive?" Data asked.
"With minimal life support and Artificial gravity, we can be battle ready
about sixty seconds after dropping the field. Remember, though, that we
can always turn and run." 
Data tipped his head to one side, and one of the Klingons on the bridge
choked.
"I have learned that discretion is the better part of valour, and that to
live to fight another day is better than to die in a futile battle.
Besides, we can then repower the weapons and be ready for them in a
moment. It would be a great thing to die in battle for the Empire... but
it would be a Greater thing to win that battle."
There were small murmurs of agreement from some of the Klingons, although
one or two rumbled their disapproval. Worf turned his glare on them and
they fell silent.
Worf took the command chair.
"Co-ordinates laid in and set." Data reported.
"Engage." Worf said. Data thought he saw, just for a second, a small smile
on Worf's face.

** The Ravenflight. Bridge **

Picard was just debating what to do in his head when Koigot called.
"Got it. Slight subspace distortion off the port bow, range point one A.U.
Weapons lock laid in."
"See if you can just cripple it. It might tell us something."
"Okay."
He tapped the panel, and a red-orange beam flared from above the cockpit. 
The beam struck something, and for a second, a multi-appendaged metal lump
showed up, spiralling helplessly. A split second later, it blew up.
"I didn't hit it that hard... must have had a self destruct." Koigot said.
"Definitely not any known design." Lansen said from the sensor console.
"It was an Imperial Probe Droid." The Raven said, his voice a ghostly whisper.
Tallera turned on him.
"Time for total truth between us." She said, using the Vulcan phrase.
"You already know that this is my galaxy. I was... I still am, a Jedi
Knight. The Jedi were the binding force of the Republic, a force for peace
and justice whose power came from the Force."
"That's what you meant when you were talking to Q." Picard said, as the
memory came back to him. "You said 'The force is with me.' I assumed you
meant that we would side with you..."
"The Force is a field that surrounds all life. It binds us together, it
flows about us and through us... it partially controls our destiny, but we
can shape our destiny with its use. But as there is Good and Evil, so
there are two sides to the force. One of our own, a young Jedi called
Annakin Skywalker, came into the employ of Senator Palpatine. Palpatine
gathered an army and took the Republic by force, forming an Empire. Under
the direction of Skywalker, we were systematically hunted down. He himself
cornered me on Vokos. There was a duel fit for epics. I won, but only
barely. I flung him into a pit of Lava, and knew that I was doomed. I had
acted in anger, forsaken my Jedi training. I had begun the journey to the
Dark Side. I fled. Later, I heard that Skywalker had crawled from the pit,
more dead than alive, and become a machine-man obsessed with vengeance. He
became Darth Vader, taking his name from the prophesy of destruction in
the Jedi Book. There was no hope remaining. I took myself into deep space
: this very sector. I had planned to space myself in penance, but
something caught my ship and hurled me through the void. And,
unbelievably, I found myself without the Force. In your galaxy, a great
evil hides... I believe Captain Kirk encountered it, on the Enterprise-A.
It is contained by a barrier of energy. That barrier drains the Force from
the galaxy, to contain the evil within. So, I found myself alone, lost, and
half-blinded without my Force Sense. But I realised that without the Force,
I could not hear and need not heed the call of the Dark Side. And so I
settled, content to live out my time here, to leave behind the wars of my
home."
"Why did you let us convince you to return?"
"One of your playwrights expressed it well. 'I Could be bounded in a
nutshell, and count myself king of infinite space, were it not that I have
bad dreams.'"
"Hamlet." Said Picard, nodding.
"I am preoccupied as he. 'To be or not to be. Whether 'tis nobler in the
mind to bear the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or take arms
against a sea of troubles, and by opposing, end them... To sleep,
perchance to dream... aye, there's the rub. For what dreams may come, when
we have shuffled off this mortal coil, must give us pause.'"
Tallera snorted.
"I cannot understand your people's ability for procrastination. We sit
here waiting for something to happen-"
"Ah, she's proably right." Said Lansen from the Sensor station. "I read
something incoming-"
There should have been a noise of some sort. But in space, all is silent.
So, quietly, without fuss, a huge ship appeared above them,
incomprehensibly vast. 
The Ravenflight shook.
"They've got a tractor lock!" Lansen yelled, and his face was one of terror.
"That's a Star Destroyer." Said the Raven, calmly. "Quickly now. Nothing
but fast and sure moves will save us."
Silently, the others followed him.

** Enterprise. Bridge. **

Wes watched the activity outside the Enterprise. A pair of modified
frigates were forming up with a Calamari cruiser. A flock of smaller
ships were flitting between the hulks : some repair tugs, some fighters...
The size of the New Republic force was just beginning to dawn on Wes.
A frigate broke off from main group and began to manoeuver, coming alongside.
"They're hailing, sir."
Wes nodded.
"Commander Crusher here."
"Captain Ma'Baan here. Is Captain Riker indisposed?"
"He's getting some sleep."
"Wise man. I'd like to follow his example. We're expected to be ready to
jump out in about five hours. Ackbar wants to load Rogue Squadron aboard
your vessel and send you through as an exploratory party. Your sensors are
better than ours, at any rate. One thing though : your 'Warp Drive'. Does
it work from inside the gravity well of a planet?"
"On a Sol-type planet, like Coruscant, It's dangerous to get closer than
the very top layer of the atmosphere, but beyond that we can work
perfectly safely."
"The Imperials may have Interdictor craft out. They project a cone of
pseudo-gravity that can pull a heavy cruiser out of hyperspace in a split
second. I've got Ackbar to send you converted copies of the training files
to lock into your computer. You'll be able to identify them through the
sensors, that way."
"Thank you."
"Ma'Baan out."
The signal cut off.

The Invictus hung against the stars, waiting. Other craft were inbound :
two Interdictors, A multitude of Corellian Corvettes, even one or two Star
Destroyers. The tractor-pressor helix was being frantically tuned, trying
to make it take higher loads for longer, replacing the switches that had
burned clean through when they fired on the Sunfire. And all this had to
be done whilst maintaining the secure bubble around Skywalker. 
Raust opened a channel.
"Are you at the craft yet, Hesk?"
"Positive. There are some letters on the side, but they're not Basic..."
(I know... I should know how to read this... Why won't my mind work?)
"We're waiting for scanner teams to arrive."
(They're there, I know it, but I can't feel them, I can't touch them... is
this madness? Is this what it's like to be blinded?)
"Hesk Out."
(I'm so very sure I should know who I am... And who is Q?)
That thought galvanised him.
(Q. Q. I will tear you limb from limb, Q. I know you of old, whoever I am.
And I have a great deal to pay you back for. If only I could remember what
it was...)
There was a noise, and Hesk looked up. Towering over him was a ragged
figure with tattered wings. He was standing on the rim of the ship. Two
stormtroopers brought their weapons to bear, and he somersaulted neatly
out of the way. Something in Hesk's head shouted, 'Jedi!'.
The tattered figure landed between the two troopers, who shot each other
as he sprang clear again.
Something hit Hesk, burning across his side. Another bolt chewed the decking.
"Fall back!" he yelled. But something was going on in his mind as he
stared at the determined face behind the gun, the face of an aging man
with eyes that burned.
(I know this face,) his memory prompted. (From a vision of the past... or
the future... I know this man.)
(Picard.)

--
+=======================================================================+
| 				[]      				|
| 	Matt.R.Austin		[]   "We will return you to our normal	|
| M.R.Austin@bradford.ac.uk	[]   service as soon as we are certain	|
|				[]   what is normal anyway." 		|
|				[]  	 - Tricia MacMillan, HHGTTG	|
+=======================================================================+
Path: tivoli.tivoli.com!geraldo.cc.utexas.edu!cs.utexas.edu!news.sprintlink.net!EU.net!uknet!strath-cs!bradford.ac.uk!mraustin
From: M.R.Austin@bradford.ac.uk (MR AUSTIN)
Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
Subject: Trek Wars Part XII
Date: 23 Mar 1995 22:55:34 GMT
Organization: University of Bradford
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Xref: tivoli.tivoli.com alt.startrek.creative:7165


			Trek Wars Part XII
			 Into the Darkness

** ISD Invictus. Landing bay. **

Hesk and his squad had fallen back to the cover of the door. The crew of
the captured ship were moving through the bay with the ease of
professionals. Already, Hesk's force were less than half their original
number, and the steely-eyed man with the glittering implant at his temple
was felling more and more.
"Seal the Blast Doors!" Hesk howled.
(Picard. Q. The two are of the one. They are together.)
The doors slammed shut.
"Get reinforcements deployed on every exit, above as well."
(Riker.)
(Who is Riker?)
(Yar.)
(Who is Yar?)
(Picard. Q. Riker. Yar. They are all... all... Nothing but names. I know
them, and I do not know them. I have not ever met them, but I have and I
will and I won't and I've never seen them and I haven't and yet at the
same time I have and I will and why does my head pound so?)

In the bay, Lansen was running a critical eye over the ceiling.
"There." He said, and Koigot and Picard blew open the section.
The Raven hurled himself upward, seeming almost to fly. Tallera fired a
grapple and swarmed up the rope, eyes blazing. The others followed.
The Raven was already at the blast door. He drew the tubelike device from
his belt and-
There was a snap, and a hissing hum-
and the lightsaber sprang into life. 
With two economical swipes, he slashed the blast door open.
Lansen grinned.
"Hardly subtle," he said, "But a damn sight faster than picking the lock."

They met the stormtroopers half-way, and in seconds a vicious firefight
was blazing. In the midst of it stood the Raven, his glowing blade a blur
as shots slammed off it. He went through the squad of troopers like a
whirlwind, his redly glowing eyeslits burning with unholy fire. He was
chanting in a language Picard had never heard, bellowing his battle cry, a
bloody-handed god walking amongst them.
In less than a minute, it was all over.

The Heart of Fury shuddered. The weapons console showered sparks, and the
officer fell backwards, twitching.
"Shields collapsing!" Howled the Klingon at the console.
"GET US OUT OF HERE!" Worf Bellowed, And Data's hands fairly flew across
the console. The Bird of Prey dived, corkscrewed, and blasted clear.
"Warp Engines damaged." Data reported calmly. "Containment Breach imminent."
"Shut Down!" Worf snapped.
"Field holding." Data replied. 
"Full power to the weapons. Get those shields back online. Major, set your
terminal for fire control and SOMEBODY CLEAR THIS SMOKE!" Worf yelled.
"They're here!" Ro called from the sensor station, and the battle raged
once more.
The Tie Fighters dived and dodged, pinwheeling across the stars in
deadly arcs, lasers blazing.
"Rear shields at fifty percent and falling!"
Kira was wrestling with her console, her fingers flying. A Tie Fighter
caught a disruptor blast and span out of control, taking another with it.
"We've got fifteen ships left-" The Heart of Fury shuddered once more.
"Rear shields down to ten percent and still falling! Fore shields at
twenty five percent!"
"The doubled-hulled ones are firing some kind of missile. Concentrate your
fire on them!" Ro yelled.
Data's hands blurred, and Kira jumped. Data was running helm and fire
control both, one hand and one eye for each. The two double-hulled craft
were caught by a disruptor blasts.
"Thirteen left."
"My lucky number." Growled Worf. "Keep Firing!"

The lieutenant at the Invictus Sensor station slammed the Red Alert Button.
"Incoming Craft!"
"Get the Interdictors into position. Try to keep them distant." Raust replied.
The battle was joined.

The Enterprise blasted out of the stars, her nacelles pulsing almost white.
Riker stared at the scene.
"Dear God..."
Through the viewport, a dozen Star Destroyers were manoeuvring, and swarms
of smaller craft boiled out of them like angry insects.
"Launch Rogue Squadron. Alexander... Hit anything you can."
"Sensors show three Imperial Star Destroyers, Two Interdictor-class Star
Destroyers, Twelve Frigates, Forty-three Corellian Corvettes, and vast
numbers of Tie Fighters. I get heavy levels of Transmission from the Star
Destroyer in the center of the fleet."
"That's their Command ship. Hit it with whatever you can bring to bear."
The photon torpedo launchers flared five times.

The Invictus shook.
Deep in the bowels of the gargantuan craft, Picard steadied himself.
"Something just hit us, and hard. I think we've managed to put ourselves
on the primary target for an assault."
Koigot sprayed fire across the advancing troopers.
"Stow it, Picard." He said, with a grimly determined smile.
All of the team opened fire at once, spitting blue-white light at the
troopers. Koigot's beam died, and the powerpack spat out. He slapped in a new
one in a moment and added his beam once more to the inferno. 
Hesk arrived, like a spectre of death.  
The Raven saw him and charged. 

The last Tie Fighter burst open before one of Data's pin-point
accurate disruptor blasts.
Worf breathed a sigh.
"Cancel Red Alert. How badly damaged are we?"
"The Warp core has been stabilised." Data reported. "It will hold for
speeds no greater than Warp Two, but it will hold."
"Cloaking field went down when they fired that Ion weapon. It's a
fused lump. Infra-Red reports three small fires, all being contained.
Shield generators damage, mostly light, Structural damage negligible, Core
systems mostly unaffected. We'll hold together, I think." The Klingon at
the engineering station reported. Data heard his soto voce comment : "You
hear me, Fury? Hold together."
Worf relaxed visibly.
"Is that it?"
"Not by a long shot." Ro reported. "We've got new company."
"Red Alert." Worf said, sounding tired. "Once more unto the breech."
The Modified Frigate bore down on them, turbolasers blazing.

The Raven and Hesk were mere inches apart when time froze. 
Q smiled at Hesk's immobile face.
The action was entirely mental, but, mostly for effect, he passed his hands
across Hesk's eyes and snapped his fingers in front of his face.
Hesk dissolved.
In his place, two entities formed. The Gestalt consciousness shattered like
glass, forming for each nothing more than a scattered handful of memories.
The Dark One was a formless blob of black liquid, fluid like oil, sticky
like tar.
"I've taken everything that makes you what you are." Q said, lightly.
"I've taken all your precious memories, all the perception of the future
that you're so proud of. Since we shed you here, before moving on to
pastures new, you have been a continual thorn in the Continuum's side. And
now, you will not even know that. You will be a concentration of evil,
without knowledge, without form, a worthless skin of evil. But I will give
you your old name back."
He leaned closer to the shapeless mass, lowered his voice.
"Armus."
With a thought, he hurled the thing from him, across the light-years and
the twisting pathways of time, to a planet in the far-distant galaxy that
would, in the Armus' future, see the demise of Tasha Yar.
"C'est la vie." Commented Q, feeling almost mournful. He turned to the
remaining part : the part that held the name of Hesk. 
"Hmmm." He considered the albino skin, the malformed face, and shook his head.
"It'll have to go." He said, in the manner of an artist considering a
finished piece.
Not that the real Hesk was, in any respect, finished. The clone of Annakin
Skywalker, made in an attempt to replace the badly-injured Skywalker who
had crawled from the lava pit, had failed abysmally. Skywalker's
DNA had been badly damaged, and the result had been a thing that was of no use
to the Emperor. It had been cast aside, drifting, until it had encountered
the creature shaped from the negative outpourings of a race of nascent
immortals. The two had merged, become one, a creature uncertain of mind but
possessed of incredible anger and power. Enough power to alert the
Continuum and set this plan in motion.
Q flourished his hand and the thing took on the form of the Gestalt once
more.
"Nice." he commented to himself. He produced a quick double of his current
form, who patted him on the back before fading out. 
"A good bit of work."
He sighed.
"Oh well," he commented to no-one in particular, "I suppose I'd better let
events follow their natural course."

Time resumed its steady passage. The two met, like giants clashing. Hesk
did not know what had happened to him, but he knew an enemy when he saw
one. He dodged the lightsaber with incredible skill and wrenched a tube
from his belt.
The green blade sprang into being.
The Raven stood, lightly balanced on his toes.
"Let us see if you know how to use that, abomination." he said, evenly.
Hesk showed his teeth.
"Deeds, not words."
The Raven considered.
"So be it."
The blades clashed. Sparks filled the air.

Picard turned to his team, taking advantage of the brief respite.
"Vash. Can you find this person we're supposed to look for?"
Vash grinned, tightly.
"I've been waiting for you to ask that." She closed her eyes, stretching
out with her mind.
"I've got them. Back this way."
"I'll cover you." Koigot said, impassive.
Picard Nodded.
They set off at a run.

More stormtroopers rounded the corner. The sight of the duelling figure
threw them for long enough for Koigot to slice them in two.

In space, Wedge and the rest of Rogue Squadron held the line. The X-wings
dodged nimbly, tracing lines of orange fire across the hordes of Tie
fighters. Space was thick with them.
"Enterprise here. We read some heavy modifications on the Star Destroyer
in the center of their fleet."
Wedge corkscrewed and fired, blasting clean through a wing of Interceptors.
"Got you. Keep an eye out."
A bleeper sounded in his helmet.
"Here come the Cavalry!" he whooped.
The Republic fleet was arriving.

The Heart of Fury groaned.
"Shields down!" yelled the first officer.
"Photon torpedoes aft!"
Data ignored the failure of the lock-on program and fired. The first
torpedo knocked down what was left of the shields.
The second, by chance only, struck the engines.
For a second, explosions racked the engineering module of the scout
frigate. Then one explosion ruptured the reactor containment vessel.
The Frigate blew apart in a spectacular shower of pyrotechnics.
"Hold tight!" Ro yelled, and the explosion caught the Heart of Fury,
tossing it like a leaf in a gale.

Luke could sense them coming, now. A warrior, a thief, a man of command,
and... a Jedi? He reached out his mind, touching the pursuing stormtroopers
with confusion, muddling their sense of direction.

Tallera was watching like a hawk.
"I don't like this, Picard. It's too quiet. They're planning something."
"Silence, please. The maestro is in concert." Lansen said. The lock on the
door was completely unfamiliar to him, but a lock was a lock wherever it
came from...

On the bridge, Raust watched the deploying Republic fleet.
"Ackbar's stamp is on this. Watch the Mon Calamari. Order the main gun
charged and re-deploy the fighters. As soon as you identify the command
ship, target it and fire."

Hesk and the Raven slashed, stabbed, circled. Koigot's phaser was still
playing merry hell with the troopers foolish enough to enter his line of fire.
The impasse held.
Hesk found himself winning. His opponent was faltering, falling back. He
hissed through his teeth.
"Do you know the expression, 'To bate an ace'?" The Raven enquired, and a
horrible doubt entered Hesk's mind.
"To concede an early advantage to an opponent in order to ensure his
eventual destruction." The Raven finished, deflecting a swipe. He
somersaulted backwards.
Hesk watched him, wary of some new trick.
The Raven shut down the lightsaber.
Hesk sneered in victory.
"Now, you die!" he crowed, and he lunged.
The Raven threw up his hands and dark lightning crackled. The wicked
fingers of force-driven electricity tore into him, into his soul. The
Raven's eyes burned like fire.

Hesk clawed at empty air and screamed as the Raven's fearsome power raged
through his system. Here was power driven beyond all care for self, beyond
control, power driven by a bitterness and hatred so deep that not even
Hesk, the embodiment of evil, could encompass it. 
Hesk fell to his knees, sparks arcing to the decking. 
For a moment, the Raven held back. Enough of his old, honourable self
remained for that. But it was trickling out of him, the last grains of
humanity pouring through the neck of the hourglass, leaving the vacuum
blackness of the Sith.
Hesk, his body shaking as though possessed, forced his head up. 
"Do you not even have the strength to finish what you began?" he spat.
"The journey is complete." The Raven said, his voice filled with pain.
He sent forth the force-lightning once more, and Hesk died.

From the decking, He picked up Hesk's fallen Lightsaber. The Dark Side
held him, now, a prison from which death would be his only escape. But
here... this weapon had been crafted and wielded by a Jedi of a subtle new
mastery, a Jedi of greater scope than any he had seen in his long life. To
his force sense, it glowed with the power of freedom and justice. Not even
Hesk's evil had tainted it. He threw it to Koigot.
"This belongs to the person Q would have you rescue. Return it to them."
Koigot looked at him questioningly.
"It is a high and lonely path I tread. I cannot walk this road : nor can I
turn back. It ends here."
He sighed, and the huge figure seemed smaller, as if broken by the weight
it carried.
"But if I am to die, it might as well be a glorious death. Remember my
name. Tell the others I bid them the last farewell."
He turned on his heel and began his journey to the heart of the storm.


--
+=======================================================================+
| 				[]      				|
| 	Matt.R.Austin		[]   "We will return you to our normal	|
| M.R.Austin@bradford.ac.uk	[]   service as soon as we are certain	|
|				[]   what is normal anyway." 		|
|				[]  	 - Tricia MacMillan, HHGTTG	|
+=======================================================================+

			Trek Wars Part XIII
		        Morituri Te Salutant

Worf hauled himself to his feet. The bridge was a smoking ruin of twisted
metal and tangled wiring.
Data extracted himself from under a collapsed girder and went to work on
his console, jury-rigging the wiring with all the speed his system could
muster.
"Sound off." Worf croaked from smoke-clouded lungs.
"Ro. I'm okay."
"Kira. My leg is pinned."
"Kha'Ghal. Fit for duty."
"Chak. Fit for duty."
There was a moment of silence.
Worf bowed his head.
"In death, you honour our lives. 
You have not fed the hungry mouth of War in vain.
We will remember your names."
Chak and Kha'Ghal saluted solemnly.
"Data. Report."
"Warp engines beyond field repair. Warp core breach probable in twelve
hours or less. Impulse engines damaged. All port and forward thrusters
destroyed. Disruptors destroyed. Sensors damaged. Life support failure in
fourteen hours. Reactor has suffered heavy damage. Five separate hull
breaches. Structural integrity compromised throughout. Primary and backup
transmission systems inoperative, probable hardware failure. Transporter
repairable. Flight control systems shorted. We are adrift and gaining
velocity."
"And the bad news?" Kira said, grimacing through the pain.
Data turned from the console.
"Overall survival prospects are-"
"Never tell me the odds." Kira said through clenched teeth.

Lansen was muttering to himself as he sorted through the wiring.
"Can we just burn our way in?" Tallera asked, impatiently.
"Depends how many pieces you plan on being in. There are explosives all
over this area. No, not that one, it's never the negative lead, got to be
a T-1 loop in this thing somewhere..." he resumed his quiet monologue.
Footsteps echoed through the corridor and Tallera and Picard assumed
defensive positions.
"It's Koigot." Vash said. "He's alone."
"Got you, you little-" Lansen joined two wires and touched a third to the
connection.
The lights flickered.
Lansen looked up.
"That wasn't me..." he said, defensively
The door slid open.

Tallera was the first through.
"Great space..." She swore, quietly.
A broken thing hung on the wall. It raised its eyes and managed a crooked
smile.
"Luke Skywalker..." he managed.
"We'll get you out of here." Picard said decisively.
"You must be Q's rescue party." Luke said, forcing the words past his
swollen tongue and cracked lips.
Picard raised an eyebrow, but set to work.
Koigot arrived at a run.
"The Raven's split off to do his own thing. He told me to bid you the last
farewell."
The ritual words lit a beacon in Luke's mind.
"The Raven is a Jedi?"
"Yeah. You should have seen it. He threw these lightning bolts. It
was... scary."
Tallera, working carefully with her phaser on Luke's manacles, snorted.
"You, scared? Must have been terrifying."
"Listen..." Luke managed. "The lights... They're charging the main gun. We
have to warn the others."
"He gave me this, as well."
Koigot held out the lightsaber.
Picard took it, considered it, and turned it on.
(Just like a feint in fencing. Flick it through fast and clean.)
He whipped the glowing blade through Luke's manacles in a blur of motion.
Luke smiled. 
"Pretty good."
"Vash, Lansen, help him. Form up : we'll see if we can get back to the
Ravenflight."

"The command ship is redirecting a huge amount of power to storage cells.
I read new power sources coming on line." Wes reported, crisply.
"Look at the fighters. They're cleaning out an area. And she's swinging to
bring her nose to bear on Ackbar's flagship. We've got problems."
"Tie Bombers closing off the port bow!"
Alexander's hands danced on the console. The phasers flared.
"Good shot." Riker nodded.

The Raven strode through the corridors, His heart cold and his mind churning.
(The way of the dark side is that of a snowball rolling down a hill. What
begins as a tiny snowflake becomes an avalanche too great to stop. All I
can do is direct it where it will do least harm, or perhaps some small good.)
(Here.)
He hit the door control.
The officer went for his gun and fell, blue sparks crawling over his skin.
The Raven threw his mighty powers at the consoles. Insulation and casing
disintegrated, flaring into flame in its haste to depart, and metal
sparked and ran.

On the bridge, the cry went up.
"Shields failing!
"Backups." Raust responded, calmly. 
"The main gun is taking too much of the charge! They'll be down for two
minutes!"
"Deploy the other cruisers for defensive coverage. Hold position."

"The command ship's shields are weakening. The fleet is redeploying to
protect it." Wes reported.
"Let's give them a real oddity in their tactical mind set, shall we?"
Riker remarked, almost pleasantly. "Full ahead."

On the Invictus, Luke raised his head.
"They're panicking on the bridge. The shields are failing."
A blaster bolt ricocheted off the wall and she ducked.
"We're pinned down." Koigot reported. "There's no way we can get to the bay."
Lansen's grin was utterly gone.
"Ave Picard." he said, grimly. "Morituri te salutant."
"We have to call for help, somehow."
"My kingdom for a communicator." Tallera snapped.
Vash closed her eyes and stretched out. 
(The mind, Vash, is a strange and wonderful thing... it envisions
impossibilities, it breaks down barriers, it can open the whole universe
to you. Stretch out with it. Stretch out with your feelings.)
Out into space she hurled her Q-trained mind, seeking a familiar spark.

Deanna jumped.
(Trapped. Need help. Get us out of here.)
(Vash?) her mind responded, even as she leapt to her feet.
(We're on a Star Destroyer. Their shields are going and they're charging
some sort of weapon-)
"Vash is out there. On the Command ship." She said, while her mind fairly
burned with the power of the message she sent.
(The Admiral?)
(Here.)
"Admiral Picard's with her-"
"Mr Crusher, we've got to punch through that cordon somehow!"
"Republic fleet, this is Enterprise. Direct anything you can bring to bear
on our next target : We're going in."
The weapons of the Enterprise blazed as she screamed forward.

Raust stared at the white ship tearing across space.
"Emperor's teeth!" swore one of the console ops.
They couldn't be doing this. It ran contrary to every tactical ploy Raust
had ever studied, to everything the republic knew of tactics. Even at
Endor, Calrissian's desperate gambit had been a rational attempt to escape
the fearsome firepower of the Death Star, not a headlong charge into enemy
territory.
"Concentrate fire on that ship."

Koigot's beam died on him and he pushed home his last powerpack.
"The Enterprise is on its way." Vash reported.
(We're still here, Deanna.) her mind encompassed the vast Destroyer,
locating them in space, converting mental image to solid co-ordinates.

The Heart of Fury trembled.
Data applied himself to the beam pinning Kira and lifted it aside as
though it were made of paper. Kira groaned.
Data flicked through his physiology files and identified emergency
procedure. He tore a thin strip from his uniform top and looped it
around Kira's leg.
"This will hurt a little."
He slipped a short length of broken strut through the loop and tightened the
tourniquet. 
"Hold this." He told Ro, and strode to the sensor console.
"What's happening, Data?" Worf asked.
"Uncertain. Sensors, even in their damaged state, cannot detect anything
out of the ordinary. But we are accelerating towards something : a mass
that does not register."
The decking bucked beneath them and Kira moaned softly.
"I hypothesise that we are drifting toward Q's timespace distortion-"
The world went white.

The Enterprise broadsided a Frigate as it tore past, sending flaming
debris flying. Ackbar watched.
"Give them all the support we can. Keep the defensive line occupied."
The orders flew across space, and the republic fleet advanced.

Raust stared in confusion at the fleet. Here were tactics that eluded him,
subtleties that had to be wrenched from their hiding places rather than
appearing so obvious to him. Desperation was a greater innovator than
necessity in the heat of battle.
The white craft punched through the cordon.
"Shield Status."
"Capacitors charging. Another forty-five seconds."
"All gunnery crews, target that ship. How long until the main gun is ready?"
"Twenty seconds."
The door to the bridge exploded inwards.
The Raven stood silhouetted in the doorway.
"Vengeance." He said, simply, and all hell broke loose.
Raust screamed for Hesk in blind terror, but the Raven's lightning arced
wildly across circuits, showering incandescent fire across the vast chamber.
After an infinite moment, the cataclysm came to an end. 
Raust's chair was damaged. His breathing came hard, each gasp torn from
the smoky air by sheer will.
The Raven considered the devastation.
"What then remains, but that we should cry,
Not to be born, or being born, to die?"
He lifted his hands to his mask and unclipped it, letting it fall. His
eyes still lit with red, but Raust saw, just for a second, the glitter of
tears.
"And so it ends." 
The Raven turned his power inwards, and died.

Raust wheezed, but his implant eye blazed. He forced the powerchair
forwards, to the fire control station. If he was going to die, it would be
in one final act of retribution. He threw open every circuit, brought
every power source to his station, and swung the nose to bear on the
closing fleet.

Koigot's beam failed and he ducked a laser blast. Picard flashed a burst
across the advancing troopers, ignoring the insistent bleeping of the
low-power light. Tallera turned on Vash.
"Where the hell is -"
Light enfolded them and the world sparkled away.

They crouched on the transporter pad, unwilling to believe it.
"Admiral." The transporter chief nodded with a small smile.
The floor shuddered.

Riker clenched his fists.
"Get the shields back up!" he roared.
Wes looked up from the sensor station.
"We've got heavy subspace radiation across the whole spectrum -"
A sadly battered Bird of Prey burst through the rift.

On the bridge of the Heart of Fury, Data saw the enterprise and tapped his
comm badge.
"Data hailing enterprise. We need to beam out-"

A proton torpedo slammed into the hull of the Enterprise.
"We're losing power to primary systems!" Geordi reported from engineering.
"They hit a main junction point!"
"Data, we're losing power. You'll have to beam over to us. Alexander, wide
spread of phaser bursts, now!"

Data assessed the situation. Before he could speak, Worf spoke.
"I will stay. We can only beam five. Remember my name."
Data lifted Kira effortlessly and ran to the transporter, Ro and the two
Klingon officers on his heels.
Worf stared at the huge grey craft before them, and smiled as the computer
slurred the countdown to warp core breach.
"In Death, I honour your lives.
I will not feed the hungry mouth of War in vain..."

Data materialised on the pad and lowered Kira abruptly to the deck. He
leapt to the console and blurred his hands over the controls.
Over fifteen of the decks, lighting failed.
Worf stared down at himself as the sparkles took him away.

On the bridge of the Invictus, Raust closed the contact to the main gun.
He choked blood, and the light in his implant died.
Over the surface of the Invictus, sparks arced.

"Get us the hell out of here!"
The Enterprise leapt clear, her impulse engines blazing like the stars
themselves.

The Bird of prey exploded. Antimatter spewed, and the tattered wreck of
the Heart of Fury became the heart of a fireball, a blast propogated at
the speed of light. The explosion raged against the unresisting texture of
the void and the relatively insignificant mass of one Imperial Star Destroyer.
The nose of the craft swung wide, and the helix of pure force tore through the
cordon of Imperial craft like a chainsaw. Plasma fire erupted from
ruptured reactors, shattering those unaffected by the beam itself. Within
seconds, the Imperial fleet was decimated, and space itself boiled with
the ferocity of the explosion.

Out of the fire blasted the Enterprise, her hull charred and pitted, but
her running lights and warp nacelles burning bright and defiant. 

In the transporter room, Worf looked at Data almost angrily.
"You have denied me a glorious death."
Data considered.
"Yes. In order that you may go on to greater glories."
Worf's face split in a grin, and he roared with laughter.

Luke was still weak, despite the best care the Enterprise and the Republic
could offer, but he took his accustomed place at the council table for the
meeting.

"You could stay with us, you know. The clean-up from that battle won't be
easy, and we could use more people like you." Leia said.
Picard shook his head. 
"Q is adamant that we return to our place tomorrow at latest. He's off
doing things on his own at the moment, but he'll come back. He always does."
"But we'll throw you a party for tonight," Han said with a lopsided grin.
"Sounds good." Lansen piped up, and the others smiled.
"We'll see you in the main hall in four hours. Until then." Mon Mothma
concluded.

Picard fiddled with his uniform. After so long out of Regulation clothing,
it felt vaguely strange. His little team of Mercenaries formed a knot of
colour amid the Starfleet uniforms : Tallera in black combat leathers,
looking somehow relaxed and alert at the same time, Koigot in a metallic
blue tunic and loose trousers, Lansen beaming happily in a colourful silk
jacket that made him look like a harlequin, and Vash resplendant in a
floor-length red dress that she had borrowed from Deanna. He came to
attention as the doors ground open, and had to clench his jaw to stop it
dropping.
It looked like the entire republic had turned out to see them. Stirring
music began from the orchestra seated to one side of the chamber, but even
their huge numbers did not make a dent in the total of people in the room. 
He summoned his reserves of dignity and struck out, striding in time to
the music, along the huge concourse to the distant dais where Mon Mothma,
Leia, Luke, and all the others stood. The others fell into step with him
faultlessly, heads up, eyes bright.

The music reached a crescendo as they began to mount the steps, stirring
the blood in Picard's veins. He normally detested Martial music, but this
was something else. As they came closer to Mon Mothma, the music fell in
volume, dropping into the background.
Mon Mothma tipped her head upwards. 
"For their Deeds at the Battle Of The Rift, and for the rescue of
Commander Skywalker from Imperial captivity, The New Republic honours the
crew of the Enterprise with this token of our appreciation."
She placed a golden medallion around the necks of Picard, Riker, and Worf.
They turned together to face out across the vast hall as the music rose
once more. The applause almost drowned it out.

Han climbed the steps, with Guinan at his side.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, We have a little announcement to make!" Han grinned.
The two glanced at one another, and then cried in unison,
"The Bar is Open!"
The revelries began.

Across the great hall, dancers whirled, but here and there, people stood
alone. Picard was sipping a cup of Earl Grey that Guinan had provided for
him in passing when Luke stepped to his side.
"I don't know if this will work where you are going, but I thought you
might like to have it. I made one up especially."
Picard took the lightsaber from Luke.
"I don't know how to thank you-" Picard began.
"This is my thank-you, for what you did for me." He extended his hand, and
the two men shook. 
"I have to go. I'm going with Commander Katarn to retrieve Artoo and my
X-wing from Raust's space-platform base. I know you'll be gone before I
get back, but... don't think I'll ever forget you."
"Nor I you." Picard said with a small smile.
Luke raised one hand in a casual salute, then turned and moved away into
the crowd.
Picard considered the Lightsaber. It would make a damned fine momento of
this little outing.
"A new toy?" remarked an amused voice from behind him. "Can I play?"
He turned round, and found Vash standing there. For the second time that
evening, he had trouble keeping his mouth closed. 
She smiled, and offered him her arm.
"Shall we?"
Picard put his cup down neatly and bowed from the waist.
"I would be delighted."
They danced.

Troi was besieged with ardent suitors, but she spotted Wedge chatting with
Meko and Tikks and walked over.
"Might I have the next dance?" She enquired, a mischeivous sparkle to her
eyes. 
"Ah... uh, sure... I mean, if you're free... why not?"
He took her hand, and lead gracefully into the steps of the dance.

Han was chatting to Leia when Riker approached. Han flashed him a rakish
smile, and Riker replied in kind.
"They say you're pretty good at cards." Riker said.
"I hear the same thing about you." Han replied.
"Do you know how to play poker?"

Q watched from the rafters, draped across the beam looking down.
He became aware of a prescence and sat up.
The Raven appeared, outlined in blue light. Below, on the dancefloor, Luke
looked up and smiled.
"Have a seat." Q said, almost smiling.
The Raven shook his head.
"I've come to give you my thanks, Q."
Q shrugged.
"I did very little, really."
The Raven smiled. 
"You freed me from my nightmares, Q. That alone would have been enough."
He tipped his head on one side, as if listening to a distant voice,
and sighed. 
"I must go."
"I know the feeling." Q said, ruefully. "Whenever something goes wrong at
home, it's always 'Fetch Q', 'Where's Q?', 'Get Q : He'll know what to
do.' But I would have us part as friends."
The Raven nodded, waved in farewell, and faded out.
"Just don't tell Picard." Q said, slightly grumpily. "I don't want to
ruin my image."

From high above, he watched the revelries. Riker and Solo were staring,
poker-faced, at each other as they played. Republic and Starfleet
personnel mingled, chatting with the manner of old friends.
"Ain't life grand." He said. 
Far below, Picard and Vash were dancing far too slowly for the music. It
even looked like they were kissing, but of course, that was silly. Still,
he grinned.
"And here's to love. Let the band play on!"
And so, it did.

--
+=======================================================================+
| 				[]      				|
| 	Matt.R.Austin		[]   "We will return you to our normal	|
| M.R.Austin@bradford.ac.uk	[]   service as soon as we are certain	|
|				[]   what is normal anyway." 		|
|				[]  	 - Tricia MacMillan, HHGTTG	|
+=======================================================================+