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|\\\\\ Starfleet Command, Eighth Fleet (OOC)
\\\\\|__.-~~\
_--~ ~~/ Defenders Task Group 85.3, "Whitestone"
/~ _-~~~' Embarked on U.S.S. Coronado, NCC-97901
('-//////-// Rear Admiral Tebrun Lora Kor, Commanding
////// }}-) -----------------------------------------
/////~ Simulation Teaser
_///~ Stardate 240308.18
`
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/ Simulation Teaser |
/ŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻ
The heat was intense, draining... it seemed to hang over the French
countryside like a suffocating blanket. The air lay hot and heavy
over the vineyards which covered the hillsides and slopes nearly as
far as the eye could see. The heat created its own haze, playing
tricks with one's vision. Even the birds -- normally raucous and
rowdy this time of day -- were quiet and still, content to wait out
the hot afternoon and search for their mid-day meals when it was
cooler; they stayed in the shade. The old man would also have
preferred to be where it was cool, but the vineyards of Chateau
Picard needed to be cared for, and there were too few hands about to
help.
Besides, Maurice and Robert would never have approved of using too
many assistants. "The vintage is the responsibility of the hands of
the vintner," Maurice had said again and again. So, Maurice's son
Jean-Luc followed the dictates of his father, seeing to the
vineyards as the Picards had for centuries. Jean-Luc squatted near
one of the vines, trimming away dead foliage and seeing to it that
each plant was sufficiently watered against the worst of the heat.
The vines needed tending, and Picard was notably stubborn... he'd
return to the house when the day's work was done, and not before.
Still, that heat was oppressive. Picard pulled the straw and felt
hat from his head to wipe his brow, and while doing so, looked down
the row toward the chateau... and was surprised to see someone
standing there in a Starfleet uniform, watching him. For a fraction
of a second, Jean-Luc flashed back and thought he saw Geordi standing
there... but no. Tall, trim, dark-haired, and decidedly light-
skinned, Q looked particularly smug this hot summer's day.
"Hello, Jean-Luc," he said. "Whatever are you doing with that dirt?"
he asked, sniffing and squatting next to Picard. "I thought 'rapid
progress' had eliminated the need for this sort of grubby manual
labor."
"Q!" Picard said, straightening up quickly, grasping one of the
stakes for balance to pull himself up. "What are you doing here?"
he asked. The former Starfleet officer noted with annoyance that Q
still wore that uniform he didn't deserve, still ranked himself as a
Captain. In addition to looking smug, he also looked perfectly cool
and comfortable. Damn him. Picard blotted at his face again before
irritably returning his hat to his head.
Q tsked, looking up at the standing human. "Have you forgotten so
soon, mon Capitaine?" he asked with a characteristic smirk. "Far
away, a disruption is forming that will, in time, expand and threaten
humanity... once again." He straightened himself, theatrically
wiping the dirt from his hands. "And here you squat, grubbing in
the dirt. I'm disappointed in you."
Jean-Luc for his part had paled. "The Devron system," he whispered.
"But we contained tha--"
Q waved one hand dismissively. "No, no... the tear is well outside
of your reach this time, Jean-Luc. Even were it in the Devron
system, that system is now firmly in control of the..." Q made a
face. "Klingons," he finished. "No... you could not reach the
Devron system -- this time -- even if you could do any good there."
Picard tried to interrupt, but Q ignored him, looking almost...
thoughtful.
"You know, Jean-Luc... it occurs to me that in all of our experiences
together, I never invited you to visit the Q Continuum," he said.
"Would you like to see it?" Without waiting for an answer, Q snapped
his fingers. There was a bright flash of light, and then the scenery
changed.
It was just as hot here -- perhaps hotter... Jean-Luc could feel his
face flushing... getting clammy. Like France, the sun here stood
almost directly overhead, baking the landscape. But there, the
similarities ended. He was standing in a vast desert... rippling
waves of heat and sand and rock extended in all directions. Off in
the distance, a mountain range was visible. Crossing the desert was
a single two-lane road, extending without limit in both directions.
At the side of the road was something that looked very much like an
old-style "corner store," though this one stood in the middle of
nowhere. An old man sat in a chair on the store's front porch,
rocking away. He took no notice of the two visitors.
Picard hobbled slowly in the direction of the store, noting other
details without really seeing them. A clock hung near the door, but
this clock had no numbers... its three hands moved lethargically, one
of them backwards. Though there were no numbers, there was the
sideways-8 of an infinity figure at the 12 o'clock position. Below
the clock hung a calendar, a calendar with no dates, no numbers in
its many, many squares. A map of the type frequently found at this
sort of establishment was also mounted on the outside wall, but
showed only the single straight line of the road. On each edge of
the map where the road touched it were notations: "to the past" on
one, "to the future" on the other. Picard could see into the store's
interior, but there were no customers. However, there were several
apparent employees about. Like the old man in the rocker, they were
involved in lethargic, repetitive activities. One woman seemed to be
repricing the same merchandise over and over. Another man rearranged
one of the sets of shelves, appearing to make little progress.
Picard watched, almost hypnotized, but then realized that Q was
speaking... had been speaking all along, apparently. "--have you
ever noticed, Jean-Luc, how little 'rapid progress' you seem to have
made?" he asked. "The same wars with the Klingons and Romulans, over
and over again? How much has Federation space actually expanded?"
The question was clearly rhetorical, because Q went on. "When you
and I met, thirty years ago, you little realized that we have met
before... many times. Watch that road," Q said, indicating it with
the sweep of one arm, "and you will see all of history pass this
place." Q smiled sardonically. "And if you miss it, don't worry...
it will be by again."
"Q... what are you saying?" Picard asked, voice dry and raspy. "What
does this mean?"
"Jean-Luc... the Q are omnipotent, omniscient," Q said, not really
answering or even acknowledging the question. "But we can do nothing
about this. We're omnipotent, you see... but only in this place...
along this road. We've seen it all before, you see... The Continuum
is trapped on this road. But you are not. Your species can follow
multiple ways."
Picard's jaw went slack, and Q looked at him with a tiny bit of what
might have been concern. "You are dying of heat stroke, Jean-Luc...
you are a stubborn old man, squatting in the French sun. I could
prevent this, of course," he said, brushing a bit more dirt from one
hand, "but I have watched you die not once, but many times. And I
tire of it. You see, we in the Continuum are immortal...
omnipotent... omniscient... because we've seen it all before. We
command technologies and abilities that we have seen invented by
races making their own versions of 'rapid progress'... no... you
cannot die quite yet. You have a choice to make."
Q's voice seemed to come from a very great distance now, lacking its
usual condescending tone, or any tone at all... almost like words
written on a page.
"We've watched humanity reach for the stars, again and again. And we
have watched you realize that something was fundamentally wrong with
the universe, again and again. Of all the races along this road,
yours is one that can see the repetition... can see the disruptions
in all that is... all that was... all that will be. Others can sense
this as well, of course; your old friend Guinan was one such. But
alone among them, your race tries -- each time -- to do something
about it. I have tried to expand your consciousness to help you to
this point, with some success. Helped you to see that the
exploration of space was less important than the exploration of
existence. Yet, when the time comes to break the cycle, again and
again... you fail."
"The trial never ended, Jean-Luc, but it is not we who are your
judges, but yourselves. Far away from this place, a group of your
people have again reached the critical point, where they will once
again try to break the cycle. No, you cannot die yet. I had hoped
that you would be among them -- you've led them before yourself, you
see -- but even the omniscient can miss the important signs in one
cycle that are present in the next. But your knowledge can help
them, Jean-Luc. The Continuum has tried to break the cycle... we
cannot. But we still believe that your people can. And your
knowledge can help them. Will you give them your knowledge,
Jean-Luc, at the cost of your own life? I can aid you, but you must
consent. They will gain your knowledge in a dream... you agree?
Very well."
Q's voice was still audible, but now came from very far away.
"Farewell, Jean-Luc. You have been as close as I have ever had to a
friend... but I hope you will not be insulted if I wish that we never
meet again..."
And so, in a French vineyard on a planet called Earth, the great man
fell... and the universe trembled at his falling.
\_______________________________________________________________________
\ End Simulation Teaser |
ŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻ
Defenders Task Group 85.3, "Whitestone" Staff:
Commanding, TG 85.3: RADM Tebrun Lora Kor (Jester)
S-1, Group Adjutant: Cmdr. Sieven Drexler (Brad)
S-2, Group Intelligence: Cmdr. Kariasa Ma'Aru (Kari)
S-3, Group Logistics: Cmdr. Savant (Savant)
Commanding, M64 Ground: Brig. Jeremy Ironside (Fraser)
U.S.S. Coronado Crew Roster:
Commanding Officer: Capt. William Daren (Chris)
Executive Officer: Cmdr. Velorna Tal (Aggie)
Chief of Operations: Cmdr. Olme Tlaloco (rev)
Chief Flight Operations: Lt. Maiko D'Rall (Farrell)
Raptors Squadron Leader: LCol. Thomas Wayne (Masters)
Battalion Commander: Maj. Jacob Prescot (Prescot)
Flight Leader: 1Lt. Michael Bishop (Boyd)
Chief Tactical Officer: Lt. Thirishar ch'Thane (Alffred)
Watch Tactical Officer: Lt. Ariana Marist (Dolin)
Watch Tactical Officer: Ens. Derek Canterbury (Spuzzum)
Chief Engineer: Cmdr. Zunite Oswald (Sonya)
Assistant Engineer: LCdr. Jack C. Farley (CCC)
Assistant Engineer: LCdr. Aramis Skylooker (LewisSharp)
Chief Medical Officer: Cmdr. Alec Reed (McC)
Assistant Medical: LCdr. Lauren Dyson (Natty)
On Extended Leave of Absence:
None!
Positions Available:
Chief Science Officer: (---)
Marine Flight Leader: (---)
------
Jester
Rear Admiral Tebrun Lora Kor
Commanding, Defenders Task Group 85.3, "Whitestone"
embarked on U.S.S. Coronado, NCC-97901
http://www.jestertrek.com/coro2400/