Subject: Five Star Trek - First Half (REPOST)
From: [email-masked] (Matthew C. Melmon)
Date: 17 Sep 92 21:47:19 GMT
Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative

Space.  

The Enterprise floats slowly past.

Riker:  Anything?

Data:  No indications as to what may be causing 
the sub-space anomolies at this time, Captain.  Illogically, 
the anomolies appear to be gaining in strength, despite the 
absence of any apparent source.  I suspect a source exists, 
we simply cannot see it.

Riker:  And you're sure we're sitting on the 'X?'

Data:  The 'X,' Commander Riker?

Riker:  'X' marks the spot.

Riker: Which spot is that?

Picard:  Where the treasure is buried.

Data: No, Captain.  We are sitting near the 'X.'

Picard:  Wise thinking.

Data:  I thought so, Captain.

The Enterprise begins shaking lightly.  It continues to 
shake at regular intervals of approximately one minute.

Worf:  Captain, the disturbances have begun increasing 
markedly.  

Picard:  They're still originating from the same point?

Data: Yes, captain.  They emanate from a 
spherical region of space, roughly fifteen kilometers in 
diameter. Our shields are being buffeted at a rate of 
steadily increasing period.  Current period, once per forty-
five seconds.  Given shield surfaces as one unit 
measurement, energy released roughly equals five percent of  
a standard photon torpedo per unit measurement.

Worf:  Shields holding, no signs of strain.

Riker:  Something's about to blow...

Data:  Blow, Commander?

Worf:  Intensity increased to ten percent of standard 
torpedo, period once every thirty seconds.  Shields holding.

Picard:  Back us off.  Keep us between wave periods.

Data:  Yes, Captain...  Warp factor: point nine three 
one four one five.

The Enterprise's engines hum.  She stops shaking.

Data:  I believe I have isolated the nature of 
these anomolies...

Riker:  Better explain quickly.

Data:  The energy fronts are the by products of a 
sustained tachyon decay.  We are witnessing the echoes of a 
future event...

Riker:  Like I said, something's going to blow...

A dull glow begins to take shape on the Enterprise's screen.

Worf:  Frequency of emissions increased to one per ten 
seconds.  Intensity increased to fifty percent of standard 
torpedo.

Picard:  Will those fronts overtake us?

Data:  Not for a while, Captain.

Picard:  See that they do not.  If necessary, increase speed 
to match them.  Even if it takes us through the previous 
fronts.

Worf:  Frequency of emissions increased to one per second.  
Intensity, two-hundred and thirty percent standard torpedo.

Picard:  Engage warp...

The glow becomes increasingly bright.  It expands.

Worf:  Constant emission of energy, expanding outward at 
near-light in both real and sub-space.  Intensity, 
approximately fifteen standard torpedos - per unit 
measurement.  We don't want to get caught by that, Captain. 

Picard:  Warp one.

The Enterprise drops into warp, backing away from the 
growing sphere of light.  A sudden pulse illuminates the 
sphere from within.  The Enterprise bridge crew shields 
there eyes for a moment before the screen adjusts.

The internal glow subsudies.  The original sphere continues 
to expand.  It dims slightly as it does so.

Riker:  What the hell was that?

Worf:  Sensors indicate a massive object now occupies the 
center of the sphere.

Picard:  How massive?

Data:  Approximately ten point three kilometers 
in length, two kilometers in width...

A cavernous room.  Filled with giant screens and projected 
holographs.  The Enterprise appears in multiple 
such projections.  Tall, delicate humans walk amongst the 
images and equipment.

They defer to a particular tall, androgynous man.  His hair, 
long and pale lavender.  One eye, gold - the other 
ultramarine blue.  OLDNA POSEIDAL.  His voice sounds distant 
and musical, almost melancholy.

By Poseidals side, what appears to be a young, but 
nevertheless very tall, girl.  ATROPHOS.  She walks slightly 
behind Poseidal.

Atrophos:  Great Poseidal, the bio-relation coils remain 
almost fully charged.  We were very fortunate the 
transference went so well.  There was no feed-back from 
Gustogol.

Poseidal:  Yes.  Very fortunate...  Has a world been located 
suitable to a bio-relation transplant?

Atrophos:  Yes, my Lord.  The Sensitives report three 
candidates.

Poseidal:  Three?

Atrophos:  Yes, my Lord.  Again, we have been very 
fortunate.

Poseidal takes a seat at the center of the command chamber.  
Holographic images dance about him.  Images of his vessel, 
of the Enterprise and the Nadia, and of several planets 
flash by.

Poseidal:  Which world is furthest?

Atrophos:  This one, my Lord.

A series of projections show a path leading to a dot.

Poseidal:  And which one is nearest?

Atrophos:  This one, my Lord.

Another series of projections, ending in a dot.

Poseidal:  And which one is neither?

Atrophos:  This one, my Lord.

Once again, more projections dance before Poseidal.

Poseidal:  This one it is.  Have any other signs of bio-
relation use been detected?

Atrophos:  No, my Lord.  We are alone, for the moment.

Poseidal:  Yes.  For the moment.  Ready the ez-laser 
turbines.  I would rather not perform another transference.  

Atrophos:  Yes, my Lord.  And what of this colorful moth?

A holographic Enterprise flits before the pair.

Poseidal:  Pretty, isn't it?

Poseidal stands.  He walks along a narrow catwalk towards 
the main screens of the chamber.  Navigational information 
begins to flash across them.  Many people work furiously 
before consoles slightly bellow the catwalk.  Several 
moments of silence go by.

Poseidal:  Engage the turbines.

Earth.

Starfleet's orbiting space station.  A young Asian woman 
runs through the mechanical corridors.  Stunningly 
beautiful, her long black hair flows out behind her in a 
seemingly endless stream.  She wears a gown which, even in 
the egalitarian future appears exquisitely expensive.

LYNN MING.  Pop star.

A small fighter-launch docks at one of the space bays.  
Shortly thereafter, a young man emerges from a hatch.

Wesley Crusher.  Cadet.

Almost immediately, a fellow Star Fleet cadet greets Wesley.  
A Klingon - Glomras Metac.  Soon after Glomras claps Wesley 
on the back, Lynn appears on the scene.  She rushes up to 
Wesley and embraces him passionately - if somewhat naively.  
The beautiful young woman is oblivious to her impact on the 
male of the species.

Lynn:  Wesley!  I watched your flight. You were wonderful!  
You're always so wonderful!

Wesley [stammering]:  Really, it wasn't anything to write 
home about...

Lynn:  You're something to write home about!  Oh, Wesley...

Another man appears.  Tall, Asian.  He carries himself like 
a prince.  

KYLE MING.  Movie star.

Kyle wears something resembling traditional Chinese garb:  
also exquisitely expensive.  His long black hair falls 
immaculately down his back, held in place by several clips - 
each resembling a twisting, golden dragon.  His pentagonal 
face betrays a smirk.  His face betrays a smirk.

Kyle [mocking]:  Oh, Wesley...  Really, Lynn.  You do not 
carry yourself at all like you should.

Lynn:  What do you know about how I should carry myself.

Kyle:  More than you...

Wesley [extending his hand]:  Hello, Kyle.

Kyle [grudgingly accepting the handshake]:  Hello, Wesley.

Lynn:  Will you come to my concert tonight, Wesley?  I 
really want you to be there.

Wesley:  Of course...

Kyle:  Now that that's settled, can we go?  We're already 
late for an interview...

Lynn [pointedly]:  I'm already late for an interview, 
manager.

Kyle:  Right.  So are you through gushing over your little 
stinging wasp...?

Wesley:  What's that supposed to mean?

Kyle:  Figure it out, Star Boy...

Glomras:  You're contempt, movie star, for Star Fleet is as 
preposterous as it is infamous.

Kyle:  Coming from a Klingon, I shall take that as a sincere 
compliment.

Glomras:  This is not a stage.  You would not find a real 
Klingon quite as easy prey as you would one of your mock 
ups.

Kyle [menacing]:  Try me...

Glomras:  growl...

Lynn:  Let's go, now...

Kyle:  Go ahead, Star Jock.  Try me...

Glomras growls once more, then strikes out ferociously.  His 
blow is linear and perfectly aimed.  No force is lost.  It 
focuses perfectly on it's target.

Kyle's face.

But even as his hand moves, the actor's body flow with 
liquid grace.  His palm cups the much larger Klingon fist 
delicately.  Guiding it.  Kyle steps towards his opponent 
until their bodies touch.  As if performing graceful tango, 
Kyle guides the Klingon's hand hand body.  

The perfect blow misses by millimeters, but a miss is 
nontheless a miss.

Kyle continues to move, bending backward as if being dipped.  
Unwillingly, his adversary dips as well.  As Kyle rolls to 
the floor, his other hand is moving.  A well-aimed blow to 
the Klingon's arm.  As the two hit the floor, the sound of 
powerful bones snapping echoes in the corridor.

They roll.

Kyle leaps up, somersaulting in the air several times before 
landing, arms angled up, like a diver readying himself for a 
dive.

Absolute silence.  Glomras contains pain.  A crowd gathers.  
Lynn moves closer to Wesley.

Lynn:  Oh, Wesley.  I'm so sorry.  Really, I am.  If I had 
known...

Kyle:  Come on, Lynn...

Wesley:  Not bad for a pacifist...

Kyle:  Those who speak peace must do so with a strong 
tongue...

Wesley:  Bingo.  That's what Star Fleet's all about.  Or 
hadn't you considered that.

Kyle reflects briefly.

Kyle:  Come on, Lynn.

Fearing Wesley may be next, Lynn walks over to Kyle's 
outstretched hand.  She takes it, and they start to walk 
away.  She looks back over her shoulder.  

Lynn:  Please don't hold this against me, Wesley.  Please 
come to my concert tonight. Please?

Wesley:  I will.

A security officer appears.  He almost stops the departing 
stars.  He doesn't.  Instead, he walks up to Wesley.

Officer:  What happened?

Glomras:  I am at fault.

Officer:  Oh?

Glomras:  Yes.  I am also in pain.

Officer:  Wasn't Kyle Ming?

Wesley:  And his sister.

Officer:  Shit.  They say his genetic patterns match those 
taken from the real Mings - the ancient Emperors of China.  
He's authentic through and through, all right...

Glomras:  Correct.  Authentic enough to have inflicted a 
multiple compound fracture to my left arm.  Even to a 
Klingon, this causes a fair amount of pain.  Might I be 
taken to a medical facility sometime soon?  Like... now?

Meanwhile, in a luxury transport craft, Kyle and Lynn sit 
together on a comfortable divan.

Lynn:  He was right, and that made you mad, didn't it?

Kyle:  Who was right?

Lynn:  Wesley.  About Star Fleet and strong tongues.

Kyle:  From what I'm told, he's always right...

Lynn [coy]:  Well, he also has a strong tongue...

Enterprise briefing room.

Picard:  Commander Data.  Please brief us on your findings.

Data:  This vessel conforms to no known design.  As to it's 
purpose, there can be only one.

Picard:  And what is that?

Data:  War.  

Several nervous glances are exchanged.

Picard:  Explain.

Data:  The surface of this ship bristles with weaponry.  
Some of it quite impressive, Captain.  In particular, note 
these circular disks along the 'top' and 'bottom' of the 
craft:  eight along each side, three hundred meters in 
diameter.

Picard:  Their purpose?

Data:  By my analysis, I believe them to be turrets.  It is 
possible to distinguish three long protrusions - roughly 
forty meters wide and two-hundred meters long - in each 
disk.  I believe these protrusions may be extended...

Picard:  Giving the appearance of an ancient battleship...

Data:  Yes, Captain.

Riker:  A battleship with forty-meter guns?

Data:  Yes, Commander.  Our scans indicate the casing of 
each gun is five meters in thickness, so to be completely 
accurate, the caliber of the weapon is thirty meters.

Riker:  Well, that makes me feel a lot better, Data.

Worf:  Such a weapon would be very immobile.  It could not 
possibly move with the speed necessary to track any ship in 
the Star Fleet armada.

Data:  I believe that to be correct.  Such a weapon would 
most likely be used against other very large vessels, or 
perhaps planet-based installations.

Picard:  What is the power of these guns?

Data:  Difficult to say, Captain.  However, I can describe 
the power plant...

Picard:  How so?

Data:  Our scanners are not able to penetrate very far into 
the alien craft.  However, they were able to detect the 
tell-tale radiations of sophisticated anti-matter reactors 
perhaps one hundred meters beneath the surface of each disk.

Riker:  Of each disk?  You mean each turret has it's own 
anti-matter reactor?

Data:  Yes.  The power output of each reactor appears to be 
approximately half that of the Enterprise's power output 
capability.  Similar reactors have been detected beneath the 
surface of the craft at irregular intervals throughout the 
hull.  Presumably, these reactors power the vessels other 
weapons batteries.  Each reactor appears to power 
approximately thirty smaller weapon banks.

Picard:  Would the smaller weapons be able to track the 
Enterprise?

Data:  Almost certainly, Captain.  But their potential for 
devastation is much less than the large turrets...

Riker:  Obviously, Data...

Data:  And the larger turrets would appear not to be the 
most devastating weapon available to this craft.

Picard:  Explain.

Data:  I believe this circular cavity  at the front of the 
vessel - nearly five hundred meters in diamter - is the 
surface sympton of a huge, spinal weapon.  

Worf:  A spinal weapon would only be able to fire in the 
same direction the ship was pointing...  It's only practical 
application would be against nearly immobile targets.

Data:  Almost certainly, this weapon is intended for use 
against planets.  

Riker:  What could possibly power such a weapon?

Data:  I do not know, Commander.  All of the anti-matter 
reactors combined could potential power a considerable 
blast, but I think that not likely to be the true power 
source.  We have not yet detected any means of propulsion, 
yet obviously such means must exist.  I think it likely some 
for of power plant - as yet undetected - exists deep within 
the craft.  That is all I have to report at this time.

Picard:  Very good, Data.  Worf?

Worf:  The vessels has ignored all of our attempts at 
communication.  Our scans have not altered it's apparent 
indifference to our pressence.  We ourselves have been 
scanned nummerous times, with the majority of readings 
indicating scans concentrated on enginnering levels...

Riker:  Feeling us out?

Picard:  Quite possibly, Number One.

Worf:  Sensors indicate life forms exist, at least in those 
sections of the vessel we are able to penetrate.  No 
shielding has been detected...

Riker:  So we could send an away team?

Worf:  The thickness and density of the alien's outer hull 
would make use of the transporter... dangerous, but not 
impossible.

Picard:  Well, we certainly don't want to go snooping around 
until we have more information...

A member of the bridge crew interrupts via communicator.

Crew man:  Sorry to interrupt, Captain.  But the alien craft 
has generated a warp field.

After several startled glances, the meeting adjourns rapidly 
to the bridge.

Picard quickly takes his seat as the others move to their 
stations.

Data:  The alien has, indeed, projected a warp field.  
However, we are unable to detect any signs of increased 
energy output.  Either her reactors are extremely well 
shielded against radiation leakage; or, they are perfectly 
efficient.

The giant craft disappears in a flash from the Enterprise's 
viewer.  

Data:  Alien has dropped into sub-space.  Moving at warp 
three.

Riker:  Shall we pursue.

Picard:  Yes. Make it so, Commander Data.

The bridge of Poseidal's giant vessel.  Poseidal sits again 
on his chair.  An anonymous crew member appears in a holo 
before him.

Crewman:  Great Poseidal, the alien has overtaken us...

Poseidal:  I see that.

Crewman:  Of course, my Lord...

Poseidal [turning to Atrophos]:  Have we translated their 
transmissions?

Atrophos:  Yes, my Lord.  Their hailing appears to be a 
standard greeting.  The carrier signal is quite rich, 
perhaps for use with indiginous translation schemes...

Poseidal:  Can we see the message?

Atrophos:  Yes, Great Poseidal.

Poseidal:  Then, let us see it.

A panel of light appears before Poseidal.  The image of 
Captain Picard appears in it.

Atrophos:  The carrier signal contains only enough data for 
a two dimensional representation...

Poseidal:  I see that...

Picard:  Greetings, alien vessel.  I am Captain Jean-Luc 
Picard of the starship Enterprise.  We represent the United 
Federation of Planets...

Poseidal:  Our translation has it's pronouns confused.

Atrophos:  I assure you, Lord Poseidal, the translation is 
accurate.

Picard:  We are a vessel of peace.  Please identify 
yourselves and your intentions.

Poseidal:  A bit naive, this Captain Picard.

Atrophos:  The message repeats, once every five minutes.

Poseidal:  What of this 'Enterprise?'  How was she able to 
catch us so quickly?

Atrophos:  She appears to be very manueverable.  And heavily 
shielded, though once her shields are breached she appears 
to have little other means of defense.

Poseidal:  An armored ship would not be 'a vessel of peace.'

Atrophos:  Her power plant uses a sophisticated anti-matter 
reaction, regulated by a process with which we are not 
familiar.  We have seen no evidence of weaponry, though most 
certainly she must have some means of defense?

Poseidal:  Most certainly.

Atrophos:  We could increase our speed.  Perhaps leave her 
behind...

Poseidal:  The Zentradi fleet will be arriving soon.  I do 
not want to leave any trace of our passage.  Currently, the 
ez-laser turbines are operating at perfect efficiency.  
Increasing speed would begin to generate a trail of crumbs.  
The fewer crumbs Bretai has to go on, the better.  I will 
choose the time of our next engagement.

Atrophos:  You are certain they will follow?

Poseidal:  They will follow.  They have no choice.  It is 
what they were made for.

Atrophos:  And the alien?  This 'Enterprise?'

Poseidal:  We are now the alien, Atrophos.  And the 
Enterprise will follow as well.

Poseidal stands up.  He walks towards the rear of the 
cavernous bridge, stepping up onto a platform.

Poseidal:  It's what they were made for.

Poseidal disappears in a flash of light and crackling 
energy.

Atrophos [to herself]:  And you, Lord Poseidal?  What were 
you made for?

Poseidal [from the air]:  Dear Atrophos, ask you sister - 
the Sleeping Witch.

Enterprise Bridge.  Yellow alert.

Picard:  Worf, report.

Worf:  Alien craft holding steady on current course.  Moving 
at warp three.  No signs off activity in any weapon systems.  
No shields have been raised.

Riker:  And still no response to our hailing.

Worf:  Captain, if the alien continues along this course, it 
will violate the neutral zone, and eventually enter Romulan 
space.

Riker:  That could start a war, Captain.

Picard:  I don't like it, Number One.  But there does not 
appear much we can do about it at the moment.

Riker:  We could speak a little more directly...

Picard:  You mean, fire a few shots across their bow?  I'm 
not sure I'm prepared to risk breaking into hostilities with 
an alien whose capabilities remain a complete mystery.

Riker:  We'll have to do something, Captain...

Picard nods.  Several moments of silence go by as the 
Enterprise tracks Poseidal's ship.  Picard rubs his 
forehead.

Picard:  Worf...

Worf:  Yes, Captain?

Picard:  Open a channel to Star Fleet.  Maximum security.

Worf:  At once, Captain.  Channel open.

Eventually, an anonymous admiral comes onscreen.

Admiral:  Why the security, Jean-Luc?

Picard:  The alien craft has begun moving, Admiral.  They 
have repeatedly ignored all attempts at communication, and 
show no sign of doing so in the near future.  They shall, 
however, cross into the Neutral Zone in that near future.

Admiral:  I see.  What do you propose we do?

Picard:  Actually, Admiral, I was hoping you could provide 
some insight.

Admiral [noding]:  Yes, well you know how large 
organizations work, Picard.  Especially one as 
representative as Star Fleet.  I'm afraid I won't be of much 
help - at least not in time.  How long until they cross into 
the Neutral Zone?

Picard:  Data?

Data:  If they continue to maintain warp three, they shall 
cross the boundary in twelve hours and elven minutes.

Admiral:  I couldn't even get High Command together in 
twelve hours, Picard...

Riker:  Admiral, this may provoke an armed conflict with 
Romulus.  At the very least, it will give them an excuse for 
some... 'excursions.'  

Admiral:  I recognize that fact, Commander Riker.  But I'm 
still afraid you will have to react before I can manage any 
consensus here.

Picard:  I must admit, Admiral, I was afraid of that.

Admiral:  I'm sorry, Picard.  But if there was anyone I 
would want in this situation, you're the man I'd pick.  You 
may act with my full authority.  Use it however you wish.

Picard:  Thank you for the vote of confidence, Admiral.

The Admiral nods.  The screen goes blank. Several moments 
pass.

Riker:  Well, Captain?

Picard:  Worf, contact the nearest Klingon cruisers.  Order 
them to rendez-vous with us.  Sooner than possible.  They 
are to approach fully cloaked.  

Worf:  At once, Captain.

Picard:  Engineering...

Geordi:  Yes, Captain.

Picard:  Divert full shield power to those surfaces facing 
the alien craft...

Geordi:  Aye, Captain.

Picard:  Data.  Calculate the angles of the alien's heavy 
weaponry.  Not so much the main guns, but her more 
maneuverable turrets.  Put us someplace she can't get to 
easily.

Riker:  We're going to attack.

Picard:  I hope not, Number One.  But we're going to get 
their attention.  Red alert.  All personnel, battle 
stations.  This is not a drill.  Repeat, this is not a 
drill.

The klaxons begin to blast.  Organized pandemonium breaks 
out. From space, we see the Enterprise swing gracefully into 
position dangerously near Poseidal's dreadnaught.

Picard:  Phaser banks, target the alien's gun embankments.  
Hold all fire until my command, and only my command.  
Repeat, hold all fire until my command, and only my command.

Poseidal's ship.  Another large chamber, the oval walls of 
which bulge with all manner of strangely biological 
mechanics.  Poseidal floats in the center of the chamber, 
showered by light and electricty.  

A holograph materializes before him.  A woman.  Tall and 
beautiful.  Looking very much like Poseidal himself.  AISHA.  
In Poseidal's personal guard - the Mirage Knights - AISHA 
stands first.

Aisha:  I know how you love your showers...

Poseidal:  But, something has come up.

Aisha:  Yes.  The alien...

Poseidal:  We are the aliens.

Aisha:  Ahem.  A short time back, the native vessel adopted 
a more belligerent profile.  It was - and still is - my 
belief that their new stance is intended to elicit some 
response from us...

Poseidal:  We have been somewhat rude...

Aisha:  Ahem.  Stop interrupting. They have since ceased all 
transmissions and even discharged a few unusual explosive 
devices across our bow.

Poseidal [becoming interested]:  Oh?

Aisha:  I thought that would elicit a rise from you.  To bad 
nothing else I do does...

Poseidal:  Back to the point, yes?

Aisha:  In any event, I allowed all this to transpire 
without giving it much thought...

Poseidal:  Until...

Aisha: Stop interrupting.  Until the arrival of five vessels 
- slightly smaller than the Enterprise - however quite 
unusual in that they are invisible to our scanners.

Poseidal: If they are invisible, how did you discover them?

Aisha:  I'm good.

Poseidal:  And these new arrivals, they are acting in 
concert with the Enterprise?

Aisha:  Difficult to say.

Poseidal:  Well, perhaps we have ignored the aliens...

Aisha:  Natives.

Poseidal [laughter]:  Yes, the natives, long enough.  I'm on 
my way.

Aisha:  Don't bother to get dressed.

Poseidal:  Maybe I won't.

Aisha:  Promises, promises.

Poseidal:  Perhaps you should pay more attention to what's 
going on outside the ship?

Aisha:  But what's inside is so much more appealing...

Poseidal sweeps his hand through the holograph, snapping his 
fingers.  Aisha vanishes with a pout.

Worf:  Captain, sensor indicate unusual concentrations of 
energy forming on the surface of the alien vessel.

Picard:  What kind of energy?

Worf:  The appear to be some manner of shield...

Riker:  Visible shields.

On the Enterprise screen, several disks become plainly 
visible - hovering just above the giant craft's hull.  The 
disks move smoothly across the surface.

Five disks.

Plainly discovered, five Klingon warships uncloak.  They 
fly, in formation, away from Poseidal's ship.

Worf:  Captain!  The alien craft is hailing us!

The bridge crew exchange glances.

Picard:  Counselor, be prepared...

Troi:  Yes, Captain.

Picard:  Onscreen.

Poseidal appears on the main viewer.  He is dressed in a 
silver robe, with strange, wing-like projections fanning out 
from his shoulders.  To his right and slightly behind stands 
Atrophos.

Picard:  I am Captain Jean-Luc...

Poseidal:  Picard, of the U.S.S. Enterprise.  Yes, Captain.  
I know that.  And I am Oldna Poseidal, and this is my ship - 
the Grand Adas.  I apologize for the delay in our response.  
It took me somewhile to make up my mind.

Picard:  About?

Poseidal:  About whether you should be taken seriously or 
not.

Picard:  And?

Poseidal:  I think that I shall take you seriously.

Picard:  Seriously enough to explain your pressence?

Poseidal:  Perhaps we should engage in more personal 
discussions?  Do you have docking facilities for a launch?

Picard:  That won't be necessary.  We can beam you directly 
onto our ship.  Once you are clear of your vessel's dense 
outer hull...

Poseidal [laughter]:  I'm afraid, Captain, that I did not 
mean to imply I would come myself.

Picard:  Oh?

Poseidal:  No.  But tell me more about this 'beaming.' Do 
you mean that you may affect teleportation of individuals 
without need to resort to dedicated platforms?

Picard:  In a manner of speaking, yes.

Poseidal:  Fascinating.  But you may not pass through the 
outer hull of the Grand Adas?

Picard:  Not without great technical difficulty.

Poseidal:  Perhaps you are lying, perhaps not.  In any case, 
I would like to send an envoy.  Are you prepared to receive 
him?

Picard:  We are.

Earth.

A vast auditorium, crammed with people.  The air bristles 
with excited energy.  Somewhere lost in the crowd, Wesley 
and his friends wait for Lynn Ming to take to the stage.

The singer does so in a crescendo of light - transported in 
from somewhere else.

A surge of adulation, and the concert begins.

Far above the planet, the Galaxy-class warship Yamato pulls 
slowly out of space-dock.  The Yamato has a smaller saucer-
section than the Enterprise, and larger engine nacelles.  
She is first and foremost a vessel of war, not exploration.  
The Federation has learned it's lesson from the Borg well:  
the universe is not an idealist's paradise after all.

On the Yamato's bridge, Commodore LISA HAYES stares cooly 
into the giant viewscreen.  She watches impassively as the 
doors of the spacedock give way to the vastness of space.  
The Yamato moves with silken grace, executing the delicate 
maneuvers flawlessly.  

Free of the dock, the battleship hovers above the blue 
planet thousands of miles below - a majestic eagle, 
spreading it's wings.

Commodore Hayes smiles.

The concert is over.  A grand fete rages in Lynn's honor.  
But the star's attention is focused elsewhere.

Wesley fidgets uncomfortably in her embrace.  After a short 
while, he is interrupted by the chirp of his communicator.

Lynn:  Oh, Wesley.  Take it off.

Wesley:  What?!  Here?  In front of all these people.  I 
can't do that...  Oh.  My communicator.  Right.  Well, I 
really shouldn't...

Lynn:  Take it off, Wesley...

Wesley:  Let me find out what they want, just this once.  
Then I'll turn it off.

Wesley leaves.  Lynn sighs.  Kyle walks up.

Kyle:  What a twit.

Lynn:  He is not.

Kyle:  He's got you fawning all over him and he walks off 
into some closet.  I wonder what he's doing in there...

Lynn:  You really piss me off sometimes, you know that...

Kyle:  That's my job.  Oh, well, look whose back.  Wash you 
hands?

Wesley:  Huh?

Lynn:  Ignore him, Wesley.  Where were we?

Wesley:  Actually I've got to leave.

Lynn:  What!?

Kyle:  Like I said...

Lynn:  Oh, shut up already!  What do you mean, 'leave?'

Wesley:  Well, I'm sorry.  But I've been assigned to the 
Navigation Console aboard the Yamato.  She'll be warping out 
in about an hour...

Lynn:  I'm going to be warping out a lot sooner than that!

Wesley:  I'm sorry, Lynn.  But this is really big...

Lynn:  I'm really big!  Oh, Wesley.  You can't just leave me 
like this.

Wesley:  I have to go.  I'm really sorry.

[Wesley pops his communiator]

Wesley:  Beam me up.

As Wesley starts to dematerialize, Lynn jumps on him.  
Seeing Lynn start to dematerialize, Kyle jumps on her.  The 
trio vanishes from the party, to reappear before a very 
startled officer of the Yamato.

The three stumble off the transporter platform.  Kyle is the 
first one up.

Kyle: You foolish little girl.  Look what you've done.

Wesley:  You shouldn't have done that.

Lynn:  Of course I should have.  You can't just disappear on 
me, just like that...

Kyle [to the officer]:  Send us back down to the planet 
immediately.

Lynn:  No!

Kyle grabs her arm and pulls her up onto the platform.

Kyle:  Yes!

Lynn:  No!

The vanish.  Wesley grins sheepishly.

Wesley:  Sorry about that.

Officer:  Ah-huh.  Commodore Hayes is waiting for you on the 
bridge.  She doesn't like surprises.

Wesley:  Right.

The bridge of the Grand Adas.  Poseidal and Atrophos walk 
along the catwalk.

Atrophos:  They asked you to explain your pressence.  How 
long has it been since you have needed to explain yourself, 
Lord Poseidal.

Poseidal:  How do you mean?

Atrophos:  How long has it been since the coming of Poseidal 
did not mean but one thing, I wonder.

Poseidal:  That one thing being?

Atrophos:  Wherever Great Poseidal leads, war and 
destruction follow.  Fate has blown a cruel wind toward 
these people, though they know it not.  Yet.  Death and 
despair are driven before it like dry, burning leaves.

Poseidal:  I am not the one who will make the war.

Atrophos:  By being who you are, you will cause the war to 
come.  That is what you were made for, Lord Poseidal.  

Poseidal:  There will always be war, dear Atrophos.  With or 
without me.

Space.

Ripples of light.  An explosion.  Similar to that which 
preceeded Poseidal's arrival.

A fleet of ships.  Perhaps forty or fifty.  Long, narrow 
ships.  Not unlike the Grand Adas, but even the largest of 
the newcomers would still be dwarfed beside Poseidal's 
dreadnaught.  

On closer inspection, the new ships lack the finish of the 
Grand Adas.  Their materials seem more primitive, their 
design more garish.

Some of the smaller ships break apart upon arrival, 
vanishing in explosions of fire and steel.

The Zentradi fleet.

On the bridge of his flagship, BRETAI scans the scene.  
Though there is no meaningful scale by which to measure him, 
Bretai stands nearly twenty meters tall - though he looks 
otherwise human.  Half of his face is covered by a steel 
plate, with a large, glowing crystal eye.  Slightly behind 
him stand EXEDORE, Bretai's chief advisor.  Though a 
comparitive runt to the Zentradi commander, Exedore himself 
stands nearly fourteen meters tall.

Bretai:  Seven battleships.  Four super-carriers.  Eighteen 
heavy cruisers.  Twenty-five cruisers.  Missing are two 
battleships, one carrier, fifteen heavy cruisers, and thirty 
cruisers.  All smaller vessels appear to have perished in 
the transference.  We have been reduce to nearly one sixth 
our total capacity...

Exedore:  It was a tremendous risk, Commander Bretai, to 
follow Poseidal...

Bretai:  The risk was not in vain.  We have arrived.  How 
far behind Poseidal?

Exedore:  Impossible to say.  We rode the primary aftershock 
of Poseidal's bio-relation manipulation.  We should not be 
far.

Bretai:  What is the status of our own bio-relation supply?

Exedore:  Our coils are at 75% of capacity.  Some of our 
reserves were disipated by feedback from Gustogol.

Bretai:  Any estimate of Poseidal's remaining reserve?

Exedore:  Impossible to say.  Gustogol's potential was 
beyond estimation.  He most likely drained that world's 
supply to affect this transfer, given the scale of the 
aftershock.  Strange.

Bretai:  How so?

Exedore:  Poseidal is a creature of the bio-relation energy 
pool.  His skill at it's manipulation is second to none.  
Had he desired, surely he could have calculated the amount 
exactly necessary to transfer only the Grand Adas to this 
galaxy.  Instead, he used too much, creating an opportunity 
for us to follow.

Bretai:  I must think on that.

Exedore:  It is as if he wanted us to follow.

Bretai:  Perhaps...  Perform a bio-relation scan 
immediately.  Poseidal will seek out worlds he can bend to 
his purposes.  We must destroy those worlds before he is 
able to regenerate the equivalent of Gustogol's reserves.  
We would be no match for him, should he accomplish that.

Exedore:  The Grand Adas will be formidable, even so.

Bretai:  Yes.  Formidable. Our greatest challenge...  Our 
only challenge.

Earth.

A dim room.  Lynn has her arms wrapped around a flustered 
cadet.  A transporter platform is vaguely visible in the 
background.

Lynn:  Could you beam me up to the Yamato?

Cadet:  I could...

Lynn:  Would you beam me up to the Yamato?

Cadet:  We'd get in an awful lot of trouble.  An awful 
lot...

Lynn:  You are in an awful lot of trouble...

Cadet:  I am not!  Am I?

Lynn:  You're all alone.  In a dark room.  With me.  That's 
an awful lot of trouble...

Cadet:  It is getting pretty hot in here.  Maybe we should 
go out...

Lynn:  Maybe you should beam me up to the Yamato.

Cadet:  It wouldn't do any good.  They'd know someone beamed 
on board, and they'd know where.  Security guys would be 
crawling all over you...

Lynn:  Doesn't sound so bad...

Cadet:  It would be.  And I'd have a lot of explaining to 
do.

Lynn:  The Yamato will be leaving high orbit soon.  On a 
priority mission to some God-forsaken spot.  Do it just 
before they warp out, and no-one will do anything about it 
before it's too late...

Cadet:  How do you know all that...

Lynn:  I'm good.

Cadet:  I dunno...

Lynn:  What do you mean, 'I dunno...'

Cadet [nervous reaction]:  I mean, I don't know about all 
this beaming around...  Not that you aren't good...  Not 
that I know...

Lynn:  I can see I'll have to be more convincing.

She convinces him.

Meanwhile, somewhere else, Kyle looks around the party for 
Lynn.  He stops a private security guard.

Kyle:  Where's Lynn?

Guard:  She went off with some kid.  Said she didn't want to 
be bothered.  He was looking pretty bothered, though...

Kyle:  He?

Guard:  The kid.

Kyle:  Right.  Who was it?

Guard:  I dunno.  Some Starfleet twit.

Kyle:  I see.

Guard:  Trouble?

Kyle:  That girl was made for it.

The dim room.  Lynn stands on the transporter platform.  The 
cadet - uniform badly dishelved - works the control panel.

Cadet:  This is a real bad idea...

Lynn:  I'm a real bad girl.  Beam me up, Scotty.

Cadet:  My name isn't Scotty.

Lynn:  Beam me up anyway.

Kyle bursts into the room.  He sees Lynn on the platform and 
immediately rushes over to her.  She steps back.  He grabs 
her arm.

They vanish.

Bretai's command center.

Exedore:  No indications of recent bio-relation use in this 
region of space.  No trace of the Grand Adas or Poseidal.

Bretai:  He is here.  I feel him.  What of bio-relation 
capable worlds?

Exedore:  No mature sources exist.  We are, however, 
detecting three planets with high potential.  Anyone of 
which would be suitable to Poseidal's purposes.

Bretai:  Three?  How unfortunate.

Exedore:  Yes.

Bretai:  He has not made use of his bio-relation booster 
capability.  He has not, therefore, affected another 
transference.

Exedore:  That is a reasonable conclusion.

Bretai:  We cannot detect any signature emissions from the 
Grand Adas' ez-laser turbines?

Exedore:  The technology is unfamiliar to us, but it's 
signature is not.  We can detect no sign of Poseidal's 
vessel.

Bretai:  Potential explanation?

Exedore:  The ez-laser turbines are known to be exceedingly 
efficient.  If the Grand Adas is running at a comparitively 
low speed relative to her potential, she might not emit any 
signature radiations.

Bretai:  That would fit with Poseidal's tactics:  stealth 
and precision.  He is moving towards one of these worlds...  
Which one is furthest?

Exedore:  This one.

Bretai:  Prepare a transference.  We shall go to that world.

Exedore:  By my estimation, such a transference would 
consume nearly one fourth of our remaining bio-relation 
reserves...  Why the furthest potential source?

Bretai:  We must choose one.  To intercept Poseidal before 
he is able to deploy his bio-relation mecha is of the utmost 
necessity.  It takes time for the mecha to harvest and 
develop a world's bio-relation potential.  Poseidal must 
suspect we are coming, or he would not seek to mask his 
presence.  He is playing for time.  Were I he, I would 
choose the furthest planet, expecting my foe to investigate 
the nearer ones first.

Exedore:  Poseidal has never been outmaneuvered on the 
battlefield.  He may already have followed such reasoning...

Bretai:  We must choose one, and I have chosen. We shall 
destroy this distant world, completely and utterly.  And 
then we shall destroy one of the other two.  Ultimately, 
Poseidal will have no choice but the third.  Ready the fleet 
for a transferance.
Five Star Trek - Part 7:

   Last lines of Part 6 -

   Exedore:  Poseidal has never been outmaneuvered on the   
   battlefield.  He may already have followed such 
   reasoning...

   Bretai:  We must choose one, and I have chosen. We shall 
   destroy this distant world, completely and utterly.  And 
   then we shall destroy one of the other two.  Ultimately, 
   Poseidal will have no choice but the third.  Ready the 
   fleet for a transferance.

Part 7:

Yamato bridge.  Commodore Hayes cuts an enigmatic figure 
before the vessel's huge viewscreen.

Hayes:  Warp nine.

Wesley:  Aye, Commodore.

From space, we see the Yamato vanish in an explosion of 
light.  

Returning to the bridge, the ship's security officer looks 
at his screen.  He looks up quickly.

Security:  Commodore, we seem to have uninvited guests.

Hayes:  Oh?

Security:  They beamed aboard, shortly before our departure.

Hayes:  Who are 'they?'

Security:  We're checking...  Apparently our guests are Lynn 
and Kyle Ming.  The celebrities.

Hayes:  What the hell?

Wesley:  Oh, sh...

Bridge of the Grand Adas.  Poseidal sits, deep in thought.  
Atrophos appears beside him.

Atrophos:  What is the matter, Lord Poseidal?

Poseidal:  We have guests.

Atrophos:  The Zentradi?

Poseidal:  Yes.

Atrophos:  How many survived the transference, I wonder?  So 
great a distance to cross...  

Poseidal:  Seven battleships.  Four super-carriers.  
Eighteen heavy cruisers.  Twenty-five cruisers.  Missing are 
two battleships, one carrier, fifteen heavy cruisers, and 
thirty cruisers.  All smaller vessels appear to have 
perished in the transference.  They have been reduce to 
nearly one sixth their total capacity...

A brilliant, piercing light illuminates the bridge.  A 
beautiful woman materializes in it.  Impossibly long hair 
wraps and sways about her.  A gown of shimmering gold flaps 
in a fiery breeze.

Atrophos [gasping]:  Sister!  It's Clotho!  She's sent us 
her image across the galactic void...

Aisha [to Poseidal]:  The Sleeping Witch appears to have 
awakened, Lord. 

Poseidal:  Fascinating... 

Clotho [chanting, musical voice]:  Hail, Lord Poseidal!  
Your greatest strike yet, a daring retreat.  Not a shot 
fired, yet thousands upon thousands, dead; their bodies 
disipated along the ehtereal winds of the bio-relation pool.  
The Zentradi followed helplessly into your trap.  To defeat 
Poseidal has been encoded into their very beign.  How could 
they not follow?  And now your allies, the Trio de Colus, is 
free to strike as it will - the Zentradi eliminated from the 
field.   Breathlessly, Pentagona awaits the return of Great 
Poseidal's victory banners to the towers of Float Temple...

[her voice drops very low]

...I neglected my duties once.  Never again.  I shall stop 
you, Oldna Poseidal.

The light fades, Clotho disappearing with it.

Aisha:  After two millenia of sleep, stuffed in the cockpit 
of a Mortarr Head, I suppose I'd be a little cranky, myself.

Poseidal:  It does not take two millenia of sleep, stuffed 
in the cockpit of a Mortarr Head, to make you cranky...

Atrophos:  I am glad Clotho has finally pulled herself from 
her dreams.  A living death, to go on like that for so 
long...

Poseidal:  I am glad, too.

Aisha:  Even though she seems intent on stopping you?

Poseidal:  Stopping me from what?  Clotho is a fatima whose 
intentions are not unknown - they are unknowable.

Aisha:  Perhaps.  And the intentions of the Enterprise, and 
her bald - and, might I add, very sexy - Captain?

Poseidal:  Those we shall know soon enough.  Is Rogner 
ready?

Aisha:  He is.

Enterprise bridge.  Picard, Troi, and Riker seated in their 
respective chairs.  Formal uniforms.  Worf stands behind the 
tactical com, resplendant in the uniform of a decorated 
warrior.

Worf:  The Grand Adas is hailing us.

Picard:  Onscreen.

[Poseidal's image appears before them.  Poseidal, too, has 
dressed for the occasion:  his waist-lenght silvery hair is 
pleated and fastened by a number of ornate golden clasps.  
He wears numerous robes which appear to be finely hammered 
sheets of metal - primarily silver with flashes of brilliant 
purples, reds, and violets.  From a perfectly scultped, 
pentagonal face, stare his trademark eyes:  one gold, one 
blue.]

Poseidal:  Greetings, Captain Picard of the USS Enterprise.  
My envoy is reader.  Falk Rogner, one of the finest Knights 
in Pentagona space.  

Picard:  We are looking forward to the meeting.

Poseidal:  He will be accompanied by his Fatima.  On one 
level, an artificial being.  A doll.  On another, so much 
more.  

Picard: An android?

Poseidal [laughing]:  No.  So much more.  Artificial, yet 
biological in nature.  Yet mechanical as well.

Riker:  A slave?

Poseidal:  Of a fashion.  But we're all slaves, of a 
fashion.  You shall get a better view of us face to face.  
Rogner will leave the Grand Adas in his Mortarr Head.  
Please do not be alarmed by it's appearance.

[Poseidal fades away]

Troi:  That was odd, Captain.

Picard:  In what way, Counselor?

Troi:  There was some manner of deception, but it was 
unspecific.

Picard:  Common in all diplomacy, Counselor.  Do you think 
it a threatening deception?

Troi:  I don't know what to think yet, Captain.  There was 
no hostile intent.  But I did sense some kind of a trick - 
working in the background of his thoughts, almost 
subconciously.  

Riker:  Great.  An unstable captain at the helm of a 
battleship ten kilometers long...

Troi:  Not unstable.  Very stable.  A very precise, 
calculating mind.  It will take some time for me to sort 
this out.  For the moment, I do not think the situation 
warrants extra-ordinary caution.  Just common sense.

Picard:  Thank you, Counselor.  Prepare a methodology for 
narrowing in on what you think odd about Poseidal.  Have a 
plan to me within the next five hours.

Troi:  Yes, Captain.

Worf:  Captain, a vessel - roughly sixty meters in length - 
has exited the Grand Adas.

Picard:  Visual.

[A wedge shapped craft with two long protrusions at it's for 
appears on screen.  The surface is very complex, covered 
with protrusions and carvings.

The craft stops several hundred meters from the Enterprise.  
There is the flash of a thruster, and the wedge begins to 
open from the belly.  It pulls back to reveal a strikingly 
humanoid form inside.  

A Mortarr Head.

Nearly twenty meters tall, it looks like a giant suit of 
armor - A Cross Mirage.

The red, extended cross that is Poseidal's crest flares 
brilliantly on the Mortarr Head's chest]

Worf:  Captain, I cannot believe these sensor readings...

Picard:  Why is that?

Worf:  The energy output would make sense for a ship ten... 
perhaps twenty... times that size.  More than that, the 
complexity of the onboard systems is phenomenal.  Almost...  

Picard:  Almost?

Worf:  Almost organic, Captain.

Troi:  It's true, Captain.  I can feel a mind.  A simple 
mind, almost like a child.  It's... afraid?

Picard:  Afraid?  Afraid of what?

Troi:  Afraid of us, Captain.  It has never encountered 
anything like the Enterprise, and is naturally anxious.

Riker:  Is that Rogner?

Data:  Negative, Commander Riker.  There are three humanoid 
life-forms inside.  I believe that is the 'Mortarr Head.'  

Picard:  Three life forms?

Data:  Yes.  One could be what Poseidal termed an 
'artificial' being.  The 'artificial' nature of the small 
entity bears a striking resemblance to that of the Mortarr 
Head.

Troi:  Yes!  There is a strong link.  Captain, this is 
incredible!

Picard:  What, Counselor?

Troi:  Almost a symbiotic connection between the two...  The 
'artifical being' - the Fatima, I believe it's called - it's 
soothing the giant.  Making it relax.

Picard:  Fascinating.  Worf, report to the transporter room.  
Prepare to bring our guests aboard.

[Worf exits]

Riker:  Poseidal seemed to indicate two...  Yet, we are 
detecting three life forms, in addition to the Mortarr Head?

Data:  Correct, Commander.  One - the Fatima - is situated 
in what would correspond to the cranial cavity of the 
Mortarr Head.  Another, in the chest.  The third, in one of 
the legs.

Picard:  How strange...

Riker:  Which do we bring aboard?

Picard:  All three, I suppose.

Worf [remotely]:  Ready, Captain.

Picard:  Energize.

Five Star Trek - Part 8:

   Last lines of Part 7 -

   Riker:  Poseidal seemed to indicate two...  Yet, we are 
   detecting three life forms, in addition to the Mortarr Head?

   Data:  Correct, Commander.  One - the Fatima - is situated 
   in what would correspond to the cranial cavity of the 
   Mortarr Head.  Another, in the chest.  The third, in one of 
   the legs.

   Picard:  How strange...

   Riker:  Which do we bring aboard?

   Picard:  All three, I suppose.

   Worf [remotely]:  Ready, Captain.

   Picard:  Energize.

Part 8:

Yamato brig.  Kyle and Lynn Ming in separate cells.  A low-ranking
guard watches over them, feigning disinterest in his celebrity
charges.  

Lynn runs her hand gently over the force field.  It glows faintly
under her touch.  Very slowly, she presses out with her fingers, 
and the field gives.

Lynn:  Very interesting.  By moving very slowly, it is possible 
to pass through the field.  At least in parts.  When more force
is applied, more force is returned.  The field becomes hard and
unyielding.  Like you...

Guard:  Who, me?  Why say that?

Lynn:  Hard and unyielding.

Guard:  I am not!

Lynn:  Then why do you keep us locked up in these little cages,
like animals?

Guard:  I have to!

Lynn:  You most certainly do not 'have to.'  You could let us
out, but you won't.  Because you are hard and unyielding.  A
brute.

Guard:  That's not fair!  If I let you out, then they'd just
lock you up again, and me with you!

Lynn:  Would that be so bad?

Guard:  You know what I mean.

Lynn:  Hard and unyielding.  Do you really think I'm a vicious 
monster?  That I'm a threat to this ship?  That I'm a Romulan
spy, perhaps?  Is that it?  You think I'm a Romulan spy?

Guard:  Of course not!

Lynn [furious]:  Then why do you keep me locked up in this stupid 
little cage!?

Guard [shocked]:  Well, I, it's like...  Well, why did you have to
try and stow away?!  Did you ever think of that?  Huh?  People 
aren't supposed to just beam aboard a starship whenever they 
want!

Lynn:  You're right.  I was terribly wrong and I'm sorry now.  I'm 
very sorry to have caused any trouble.

Guard:  Maybe, uh, maybe I can talk the captain into giving you two
a room...  Maybe something more comfortable...

Lynn:  Would you do that?  Would you really?  I'd be very grateful...
Really, I would.

Guard:  Well, I'll try.  But I can't promise anything, of course...

Lynn:  I understand.  Just trying is enough.  Thank so much.  So
very much.

The guard leaves, flustered.

Kyle:  Shameless.  You really take the cake...

Enterprise transporter chamber.  Worf and an honor guard are 
present, eyes fixed on the platform.  Worf stands respelendent
in Klingon ceremonial garb.

Three beings materialize on the platform, all very human in 
appearance:  ROGNER, MAETEL, and SOPP.

Rogner stands at least six and a half feet tall.  His face, 
narrow and hawk-like, stares out from a voluminous, arched
hood.  His robe pools up on the floor, and is richly 
embroidered with all manner of glittering metals.  The red
cross of Poseidal's Mirage Knights shows prominently.  

Maetel stands somewhat shorter than her master.  She is
intensely beautiful, with overly large, dark brown eyes.  She
wears a crown-like hat of sligtly dropping fabric, and a 
robe much like Rogner's.  Her most striking feature is a large,
tear shaped gem, set in the center of her forehead.

Sopp lacks the regal bearing of the other two.  He wears loose
fitting, silken pantaloons and an even looser fabric tunic.  His
waist-length blond hair is tied in a neat braid falling down 
his back.  Sopp's features are very fine and very, very 
androdgynous.

Rogner:  Well, well.  Look at that, Maetel.  If we didn't have 
a little rat tucked away...

Maetel:  Master.  You shouldn't call Sir Sopp a little rat...

Rogner:  But he is a little rat.

Rogner takes a playful swipe at Sopp, who dances out of reach
easily.   

Worf:  Greetings.  I am Lieutenant Commander Worf, Chief Security
Officer for the Starship Enterprise.  I would like to welcome 
you aboard.

Maetel:  Greetings, Sir Worf.

Rogner:  Thanky you for you warm welcome.  I must say, I've never
teleported beyond the confines of my Mortarr Head.  A 
fascinating experience.  Do you do it often?

Worf:  We make frequent use of the transporter.  Yes.

Rogner:  Fascinating.  Isn't it, Sopp?

Sopp:  Not a bad trick.

Worf:  Forgive my inquiry, but we were expecting only... two.

Rogner:  So was I.  But Sopp's not such a bad sort.  It will
be fun having him aboard, I'm sure.  But excuse me, Commander
Worf.  I have been lax.  My name, Falk Rogner.  Mirage Knight and
Lord of Babiron.  Maetel, my fatima.  And young Ladious Sopp, the
finest Mortarr Head meight in all Pentagona.

Sopp:  You flatter me.  It will get you nowhere.

Rogner:  But you love it anyway.

Sopp:  I do.

Worf:  I shall take you to meet the Captain now.

Rogner:  Excellent.

Bretai's flag ship - the Nupetiet.

Bretai:  Are you prepared, Commander Azonia?

A holographic image of a woman appears before Bretai.  A zentradi,
powerfully built, she carries herself with pride and conviction.

Azonia:  I am, Supreme Commander.

Bretai:  Excellent.  You shall be the vanguard of our assualt.

Azonia:  It is a great honor, Supreme Commander.

Bretai:  We know nothing of these stars or their inhabitants.
Their capabilities are a mystery to us.  I do not want to
commit the entire fleet with so much unknown.  Your principle
duty is to appraise the situation and report immediately.  Is
that clear?

Azonia:  Yes, Supreme Commander.  My performance shall not 
disappoint you.

Bretai:  It never has.  That is all.  Execute the transference
immediately.

Azonia:  As you command.

The holograph vanishes. 

From space, we see a group of five vessels break away from the main
fleet.  Rivulets of electricity dance across their surface.  Then,
a consuming ball of light.  Then, nothing.
Five Star Trek - Part 9:

   Last lines of Part 8 -

   Azonia:  Yes, Supreme Commander.  My performance shall not 
   disappoint you.

   Bretai:  It never has.  That is all.  Execute the transference
   immediately.

   Azonia:  As you command.

   The holograph vanishes. 

   From space, we see a group of five vessels break away from the main
   fleet.  Rivulets of electricity dance across their surface.  Then,
   a consuming ball of light.  Then, nothing.

Part 9:

Enterprise conference room.  Picard and his senior officers seated, 
along with Rogner and Maetel.  Sopp is not present.

Picard:  Well, Sir Rogner, I it would be a lie to state
the Federation is not made a bit uneasy by your arrival.

Rogner:  That is certainly understandable, Captain Picard.  It is,
however, an unecessary unease.  Poseidal has no hostile intention
towards your Federation...

Riker:  But he does have hostile intention?

Maetel:  Hostily follows Great Poseidal like carrion fowl.  His soul is
a battlefield, and he the greatest commander who has ever lived.

Worf:  You expect the Federation to initiate hostilities?

Rogner:  No.  

Riker:  Someone else, then?

Rogner:  I cannot predict the future, Commander... Riker, isn't it?
Yes.  Riker.  No, I cannot predict who or when.  I think you are
overlooking the when.  There may not be war for generations...

Troi:  Excuse me, Sir Rogner, but you do not believe that.

Rogner:  I don't?

Troi:  No.  You do not.

Rogner:  What do I believe?

Troi:  I cannot say what you believe.  Only what you do not.  You
do not believe it will be generations before there is conflict.
And you are holding back from us.

Rogner:  You think it is our intent to attack you?

Troi:  No.  I believe you are sincere about that.  But you feel 
conflict - of some kind - is much closer.  Much.

There is a long pause.  Everyone looks at Rogner expectantly.
Maetel bows her head slightly.

Maetel:  It is very close.

Rogner:  Or so we two think.  Only Poseidal, and perhaps the Lady
Aisha, know.  

Picard:  Conflict with who?

Rogner:  It is Poseidal's belief that we shall be pursued to this
galaxy.  His belief and his intention is such.  However, we 
cannot be certain those in pursuit have the means to affect the 
journey.  Nor can we be certain when they will arrive.  If ever.

Picard:  Who?

Rogner:  'What' would be more accurate.  The Zentradi bear a 
superficial resemblance to you and I.  If you overlook the 
average one stands what... fifteen, twenty meters tall.

Riker:  Meters?

Rogner:  A genetically engineered race bent on one thing...
and one thing only.  The defeat of Poseidal.  Should they
come, Captain, the Zentradi will pay scant attention to your
Federation.  They will be interested only in us.

Bridge of the Federation scount Agama.  Yellow alert.  Tense.

Navigator:  We will cross the real-space manifestations of the
sub-space shock in minutes, captain.  Sensors still reporting
negative.  Whatever it is, it's being awfully quiet.

Captain:  Quiet, now.

Science Officer:  Perhaps the explosion...  Wait...  I am detecting
five masses.  The largest, approximately three thousand meters in
length.  The others, roughly half that.  Cylinder shapped.  Not
moving.  Very low energy emissions...

Captain:  Life forms?

Science Officer:  Difficult to say at this time, Captain.

Captain:  Notify Starfleet immediately.

Bridge of Azonia's command craft, Madnug Reczi.  A holographic form
appears before her.  

Holo:  The tiny craft continues to approach.  They know we are here,
Commander.

Azonia:  The bio-relation transference has never been subtle.  
Capabilities?

Holo:  Strong shields.  Weapon systems unknown.  Radiation signatures
point to sustained anti-matter reaction in engine cores.  Sophisticated
technology...

Azonia:  ...weak minds.  Ready main battery.  Fire on my command.

Space.  

The Agama cruises slowly past.

Space.

The Madnug Reczi pulls apart from the other ships.  Small droplets of
light form on her surface, growing in intensity.  Without warning,
lances of brilliant energy flare from the droplets, screaming out
into the void.

The Agama.  She swerves quickly.  An impressive, well-executed 
manuever - too late.  Too many beams.  Several strike home.  For
an instant, the shields hold against the battleships massive guns.

Then the shields are gone.

In an instant, the Agama is destroyed in the onslaught.  Still more
beams vaporize the debris.

Enterprise conference room.

Data:  In approximately one hour, Sir Rogner, you vessel - the Grand
Adas - will leave unclaimed space and enter what we know as the
Neutral Zone.  This will be a territorial violation of Romulan space.
Furthermore, on it's current course, the Grand Adas will move along 
the Romulan-Klingon border - perhaps the most heavily patroled and 
fortified border known to us.

Rogner:  And these Romulans are not a part of your Federation?

Worf:  Certainly not!

Riker:  And they're touchy about their territorial integrity.  You may
have conflict even sooner than you might have imagined.

Rogner:  That does not distress me, Commander.  Rather, it relieves 
me.  A concrete foe is much better than a phantom.

Picard:  Even so, we would prefer to avoid a war...

Rogner:  Then, by all means, do so.  Certainly you wouldn't expect 
Poseidal to feel any obligation on your part...

Picard:  I'm afraid it's more complicated than that.  If this
vessel - or rather, if the Grand Adas - were to violate Romulan 
space, they would seize upon the opportunity for militaristic
adventurism...

Rogner:  No, they would not, Captain.

Picard:  Oh?  Why is that?

Rogner:  They would have their hands full with us, Captain Picard.

Worf:  Surely you can't mean to throw one ship against the Romulan
Empire?

Rogner:  I know nothing of the Romulan Empire and everything about
this 'one ship.'  If these Romulans are as vicious as you are 
beginning to make me think they are...

Worf:  They are more so.

Rogner:  Then my more so my point:  if you still exist, then this
'one ship' will be more than enough to keep their hands full.

A cabin aboard the Yamato.  Lynn looks around.  Kyle enters through
a side door.

Lynn:  Not the Ritz, but it will do.  Much better than that awful
detention cell, yes?

Kyle:  You're going to act like everything's just fine, aren't you?

Lynn:  Everything is just fine.  We're not locked up anymore, are
we?

Kyle:  You know perfectly well what I mean.

Lynn:  I certainly don't.  How am I supposed to know what you mean?
You always act as if I'm suppose to be reading your mind.  Well, I'm
not and I can't.  So why don't you explain yourself.

Kyle:  Never mind.  Everything's fine.  Just fine.  I'm going back to
my room now.  To get some rest.

Bretai's flagship.  The towering commander dismisses a holograph of
Azonia.  He turns to Exedore.

Bretai:  Azonia has reported.  All is well.  Have all craft completed
their preparations for a bio-relation transference?

Exedore:  They have.

Bretai:  Excellent.  Initiate the transference.

Enterprise transporter room.  Picard and his officers present.  Rogner
and Maetel stand on the platform.  Sopp stands by Picard.

Picard:  We regret Poseidal's apparent insistence on violating Romulan
space.  Quite assuredly, nothing good will come of it.

Maetel:  Such has always been Lord Poseidal's way.

Picard:  Well, in any event, I'm glad Mr. Sopp will be remaining aboard
the Enterprise.  My Chief Engineer has been very impressed with his
command of engineering principles.  He reminds of us of another boy -
er, young man - we know...

Maetel:  Do not be deceived by appearances, Captain Picard.  Our average
life span is four hundred years.  Sir Sopp only looks the part of a boy.

Rogner:  And should anything befall us, you will not have a finer 
repository of our science than he.

Sopp:  Romulan?  Befall you?  What are you talking about, Rogner?

Rogner:  Nothing to worry about, Sir Sopp.  Nothing at all.

Sopp:  Is the Grand Adas about to enter hostile space?

Riker:  Very hostile.

Sopp:  Perhaps I shouldn't stay aboard the Enterprise...

Rogner:  Don't be silly, Sopp.

Sopp:  Will the Enterprise be following us?

Picard:  No.

Rogner:  But we have made arrangements to re-collect you.  

Sopp:  If...

Rogner:  Don't worry. Well, I have rather enjoyed this, Captain Picard,
but I'm afraid it's time for us to be on our way.  Behave yourself, Sir
Sopp.

Space.

The Betazed system, though it is not yet recognizeable as such.  The
star is but a distant dot, eclipsed by the spectacular arrival of 
Bretai's fleet.

The bridge of Bretai's flagship.

Bretai:  Azonia, report.

Azonia [holo]:  All is well, Supreme Commander.  Three alien craft have
been engaged and destroyed.

Bretai:  Tactical analysis.

Azonia:  The aliens have manueverable craft, strong shields, and potent
weapons.  However, they are relatively fragile without their shields, 
and possess only a limited number of weapon banks.  I do not anticipate
difficulty destroying this world.

Bretai:  Excellent.  All ships, proceed toward target at maximum speed.
Prepare Noose mecha and Gamalon devices.  I want this to be a quick
strike.  I want Poseidal to know we have followed; and to know that we
are as strong as ever!

Picard's ready room.  Troi and Riker present.

Picard [voice-over]:  Captains log, supplemental.  We have disengaged
the Grand Adas, prefering not to come too close to the Neutral Zone.
I cannot predict what will come of this, but I am very pessimistic 
that it will be something to look forward too.  We are currently en 
route to rendez-vous with the U.S.S. Yamato.

Troi:  There were several aspects of this encounter I felt odd, 
Captain.  You'll recall that I though Poseidal was being deceptive
when we last talked to him?

Picard:  Yes.  I told you to narrow in on your suspicions.  Have
you succeeded?

Troi:  I have, to a point.  He was acting, Captain.  Playing a role.
That is the deception.  Playing an old role very well.

Picard:  We all play roles, Counselor...

Troi:  No, Captain.  I mean in the 'acting' sense - it's difficult
to explain - he was not playing the role of general or lord, he
was 'playing' the role of Poseidal.

Riker:  Why?

Troi:  That, I cannot answer.

Picard:  What of Rogner and Maetel - and perhaps most importantly -
what of our new guest.

Troi:  More enigma's, Captain.  These three control themselves with
varying degrees of skill.  Ladious Sopp, our guest, most of all.

Riker:  More than the Headliner?  Rogner?

Troi:  Much.  Rogner had a knight's bearing:  calm, always collected,
honorable.  But with Sopp, I can read nothing.  Nothing at all.  Maetel
- the 'artificial' being - showed tremendous depth of emotion, but only
in short bursts.  Like the door of a furnace, opened only brielfly.
Then, absolute control.  Nothing getting out.

Riker:  Not what I would have expected.  Those two seemed almost like
children...

Troi:  The attitude of Rogner and Maetel to Sopp was equally strange.
The two of them were genuinely surprised at Sopp's presence.  
Surprised, curious, and almost afraid.  When Maetel warned us not to
judge Sopp too quickly, she meant it.  When Rogner told us no finer
repository of their science existed, he meant it.  When Rogner told
Sopp not to worry and to stay on the Enterprise, Rogner betrayed 
emotions one would expect in someone who had played a good joke.  
Turned the tables.

Picard:  That was after we mentioned the Romulans...  And the 
possibility of conflict...

Troi:  Yes.

Riker:  Something Sopp had not expected, and would have changed
his plans to stay otherwise...

Picard:  We had better keep a very close eye on our new androgyne...

Worf [via comm]:  Captain!  Urgent priority message from Star Fleet!

Picard:  On my way.

Picard gets up quickly and exits the ready room.  Riker and Troi
follow close behind.  On the bridge, an admiral looks direly 
towards them as they enter.

Admiral:  We've got trouble, Picard.

Five Star Trek - Part 10:

   Last lines of Part 9 -

   Worf [via comm]:  Captain!  Urgent priority message from Star Fleet!

   Picard:  On my way.

   Picard gets up quickly and exits the ready room.  Riker and Troi
   follow close behind.  On the bridge, an admiral looks direly 
   towards them as they enter.

   Admiral:  We've got trouble, Picard.

Part 10:

Bretai's command chamber.  Holographic projections of Federation ships
(smaller, pseudo-military craft - even merchant craft) swarm about him.
With an unfeeling, cybernetic eye, he watches as they are vaporized
beneath the overwhelming onslaught of Zentradi guns.

Eventually, the void above Betazed is clear.

Azonia:  Supreme Commander, as tactical lead, it is my honor to inform
you all space-based resistance - if it can be called such - has been
eliminated.  

Bretai:  Excellent.  Deploy the Noose of Poseidal...  How satisfying,
Azonia, to eliminate a bio-relation capable world with an instrument
of the dictators own devising...

Azonia:  It shall be done.

Enterprise bridge.  

Picard watches the last transmission of the Agama:  they approach the
mysterious Zentradi ships cautiously.  Bubbles of light form on the
surface of the alien vessels.  The Agama begins to take evasive 
action.  The bubbles erupt into geysers of energy.  The Agama cannot
react in time.  A force of beams surround the ship.  The shields take
several hits, then crumple.  The camera transmits an image of the bridge
nano-seconds before being reduced to sub-atomic detrius.

Picard watches this over and over.  The rest of the bridge crew stare on
in horror.

Riker:  It's the Borg, all over again...

Picard shudders. 

Worf [remotely]:  I have Ladious Sopp with me now, Captain.  We will be
on the bridge in moments.

Riker:  You thinkI?

Picard:  That we've been setup?  I don't know what to think, yet, Mr.
Riker.  I shall wait to form an opinion.  How far off is the Yamato?

Data:  We have altered course for Betazed, as has the Yamato.  Our
initial rendez-vous must, therefore, be revised.  The courses of 
the two vessels shall intersect in approximately three hours.

Troi:  And Betazed?  How long until we reach...

Data:  Much longer...

Troi:  Too long?

Sopp:  Too long.

The crew turns.  Worf and Sopp stand at the turbo lift doors.  Sopp's 
head is slightly bowed.  He wears voluminous silken clothes, of a style
similar to Renaisance Italy, only far more ethereal.  He appears very
feminine and very sad.

Sopp:  Too long.  That world, and all life on it, are doomed.  

Space.  Above Betazed, the entire Zentradi fleet manuevers slowly.  
Deliberately.  The forward sections of the largest vessels pull
back, disgorging strange, pulsing orbs.  The satelites move away from 
the fleet, orbiting about the planet.

Bretai's command chamber.

Exedore:  The Noose has been set.  All systems reporting fully
operational and awaiting your command.

Bretai:  Initate secondary sequence.

Space.  The Zentradi fleet re-arranges itself into a wedge.  Slowly
and deliberately.

Bretai's command chamber.

Exedore:  Capital ships in place.  Ready for final phase.

Bretai:  Engage the Noose of Poseidal.  Order Gamalon Bomber craft to
commence tectonic analysis.

Exedore:  Surely the Noose will be sufficient...

Bretai:  Question not.  Obey.

Exedore:  Of course, Supreme Commander.  Readying seed firing sequence.
Other battleships reporting.  All systems, synchronized.

Bretai:  Fire when ready.

Space.  Bretai's command ship.  Globes of light form about it's forward
section.  Her main guns fire.  Massive, brilliant beams, they lance 
forward, coalescing into one snaking strand of energy.  We follow it's
tip. 

It strikes one of strange orbs.  The orb pulses, but is not destroyed.
Instead, it re-emits the strand, which snakes out into space again.
And again, it strikes another of the orbs, maintaining it's link to 
the previous.  The process continues.

Back at the Zentradi fleet, the other vessels in the wedge fire, their
weapon beams converging on the first orb.  It absorbs the energy and
adds it to the original strand.

Eventually, a stream of fire encircles Betazed, thousands of miles 
above the surface.

Exedore:  Noose fully engaged, Supreme Commander.

Enterprise bridge.

Picard:  These are Zentradi ships?

Sopp:  They are.  Only five?  Interesting.  Bretai has never been one
for excessive caution...

Picard:  There are more?

Sopp:  Perhaps sixty in all.  A little less.

Riker:  Sixty ships nearly two kilometers in length?!

Sopp:  Size varies.  None are so large as the Grand Adas.  None posses
but a fraction of the firepower...

Picard:  Perhaps a boast, Mr. Sopp?

Sopp:  Not a boast, Picard.  Is this world... Betazed?...  a member of
your Federation?

Picard:  It is.

Sopp:  I am sorry, Captain.  

Picard:  You believe they will attack it?

Sopp:  They will obliterate it, Captain.  They will eradicate all traces
of life, down to the most primitive of microbes.

Picard [snorts]:  Please, Mr. Sopp...  We have little time, or patience,
for youthful exaggeration.  Three Federation vessels have been 
destroyed, and I would like - very much - to get some information.  Now,
will you cooperate?

Sopp:  Of course, Captain Picard.  That is why I remained behind on this
vessel.  In anticipation of Bretai's arrival...  But I am afraid it is
not youthful exaggeration, Captain.  Bretai means to destroy Poseidal.
And towards that end, Betazed must perish...

Bretai's command chamber.

Exedore:  It's begun...

From space, we watch as the cord of energy contacts, drawing nearer and 
nearer to the planets surface.  The band almost disappears in scale 
against the planet, but as soon as it contacts the upper atmosphere,
steams of ionized gas burst out, swelling the size considerable.  
A fury of electicity rages away from the Noose as it sits, stationary,
only a few hundred miles now above the surface.

And then the Noose begins to move.  As it rotates, the ion storm 
expands.  As it expands, the Noose increases speed.

Exedore:  The Noose is functioning perfectly.  In a matter of hours,
the atmosphere will be transformed into a ball of plasma, dissipating
rapidly into space...

Bretai:  I am familiar with the process, Exedore.  Has the tectonic
analysis been completed?

Exedore:  Yes, Supreme Commander.

Bretai:  Launch the Gammalon devices.

Exedore:  Launching.

Impassively, Bretai watches the holographic bombs - huge, pitted 
meteorites - descend on Betazed.  They scream towards the surface,
even as it is obscured by the growing cloud of ionized gas.

The bombs fall, by the hundreds, along every major fault line of
the planet's geological plates.  As they strike, hundreds of megatons
of energy catapult towards the heavens - the atomic plasmas mixing
with the steadily worsening ion and plasma storms unleashed by the
Noose.

An image near him shows Bretai the surface of Betazed as it cracks
like hot glass thrust into ice water.

Enterprise bridge.

Sopp:  Believe me, Captain Picard.  I do not exagerrate.

Path: moe.ksu.ksu.edu!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!caen!uunet!decwrl!stanford.edu!ames!data.nas.nasa.gov!taligent!apple!apple!mcmelmon
From: [email-masked] (Matthew C. Melmon)
Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
Subject: Five Star Trek - Second Half (REPOST)
Message-ID: <[email-masked]>
Date: 17 Sep 92 21:48:14 GMT
Sender: [email-masked]
Organization: Apple Computer, Inc.
Lines: 3501

Five Star Trek - Part 11:

   Impassively, Bretai watches the holographic bombs - huge, pitted 
   meteorites - descend on Betazed.  They scream towards the surface,
   even as it is obscured by the growing cloud of ionized gas.

   The bombs fall, by the hundreds, along every major fault line of
   the planet's geological plates.  As they strike, hundreds of megatons
   of energy catapult towards the heavens - the atomic plasmas mixing
   with the steadily worsening ion and plasma storms unleashed by the
   Noose.

   An image near him shows Bretai the surface of Betazed as it cracks
   like hot glass thrust into ice water.

   Enterprise bridge.

   Sopp:  Believe me, Captain Picard.  I do not exagerrate.

Part 11:

Bretai's command chamber.

Bretai:  It is done.  Prepare the fleet for a second transferance.
We shall rid this region of it's second bio-relation world, and
Poseidal shall be left with no choice but to concentrate his 
efforts on the third.  

Exedore:  These transferences will leave our bio-relation reserves
badly drainedI

Bretai:  We shall not perform a transference to the third world.  
The final confrontation nears, Exedore.  It is very near.  I
can feel it.  And past that, what need shall we have for Poseidal's
precious bio-relation.

Exedore:  Yes.  What needI

Bretai:  Commander Azonia!

Shortly, Azonia's image appears.

Azonia:  Hail, Supreme Commander.  Congratulations for a flawless
execution.

Bretai:  Your praise is appreciated, Commander.  You are to 
remain in this system, with your task force, prepared for 
battle should Poseidal appear.

Azonia:  It will be a great honor, Supreme Commander.  I am in 
your debt.

Bretai nods.  Azonia's image is dismissed.

Bretai:  Affect the transference once all ships report ready.

Exedore:  Yes, Supreme Commander.

Enterprise bridge.  Counselor Troi screams out in horror and in
pain.  The bridge crew rushes to her.  Sopp looks on, impassively.

Picard:  Counselor!  Counselor, what is it!

Troi:  Billions...  Oh, Captain, there were billions...

Sopp:  It is done. Another world will die, and yet a third may.

Picard:  You can't seriously expect us to believe all life on an
entire world has been eradicated?

Sopp:  It doesn't matter if you believe it now, Captain.  You will.

Troi:  It's true, Captain... I'm sure.  It's true.  All dead...

Riker:  Two other worlds?  Which two?

Sopp:  I can't call them by any name.  But I could, perhaps, show
youI  If this point is where the Grand Adas arrived [Sopp extends a 
finger and points to an imaginary spot] and this point is the
world 'Betazed'... [he points to another spot] Do you have stellar
maps which would be of assistance, Captain?

Data:  If you continue in your current metaphorical exposition, I
will be able to translate the imaginary points into their 
corresponding systems, given the scale you have established.

Sopp:  Really?  Very impressive...  Let me start again.  If this
point is where the Grand Adas arrived...

Data:  Yes.

Sopp:  And this point is Betazed...

Data:  Yes.

Sopp:  Than this will be the second world to die...

Data:  Working...  There are three systems within the area of 
space that may be relevant.

Sopp:  The world will have a very advanced biosphere.

Data:  There are no high-order life forms in any of the three 
systems...

Sopp:  That is not necessary.  Only that there be life.  A great
deal of life.

Data:  Alpha Bellune 5.  An aquatic world.

Riker:  Unihabited?  

Picard:  I've heard of Alpha Bellune...

Data:  The world is, technically, unihabited.  As a zoological and
environmental treasure, it is being monitored very closely from
an orbital research station.  Among the stations inhabitants is
Alder'k San, one of Vulcan's foremost scientific minds.

Picard:  Get through to Star Fleet immediately.  Order the research
station at Alpha Bellune abandoned.  Abandoned at once!

Riker:  And the third world?

Sopp:  Bretai is lopping of the ends - going for those worlds most
distant and nearest the spot of our arrival... The third world is 
here.

Data does not immediately respond.

Picard:  Well, Commander Data?  Which world.

Data:  There is only one system in the relevant area which matches
the criteria...

Picard:  Well?  Which world?

Data:  Captain, it is... Earth.

Lynn Ming's room aboard the Yamato.  The singer sits very erect on 
her bed.  Kyle slumps down in a chair.

Kyle:  Did you hear a word I said?

Lynn:  Of course I did.  I'm not deaf.  What kind of question is 
that.

Kyle:  And?

Lynn:  And what?

Kyle:  And what are you going to do about it?

Lynn:  About what?

Kyle [shouting]:  About everything I just told you!

Lynn:  Don't shout at me.

Kyle: Lynn, when are you going to stop acting like a God-damned 
spoiled rotten little punk of a school-girl?

Lynn:  What a terrible thing to say...

There is a chirp from the door.

Lynn:  Yes?  Who is there?

Wesley:  It's me.

Lynn:  Oh!  Wesley!  Come in, already!  What are you doing, 
standing out in the hall...?  Come in!

Wesley enters.

Wesley:  Hello, Lynn.  Hello, Kyle.

Kyle:  Hello.

Lynn:  Oh, I'm so glad to finally see you...

Wesley:  Well, I can't stay long...

Lynn:  You're mad.

Wesley:  I'm not mad.

Lynn:  You are too.  I can always tell when people are mad at
me.  It happens so frequently.  Really, I don't know what to do
with you people.  You're all so damn serious all the time...

Wesley:  The Federation may be at war.  

Lynn stops and looks up at him, disbeleiving.

Kyle:  Come again?

Wesley:  The world of Betazed has been completely destroyed.

Kyle:  Destroyed?  What do you mean, 'destroyed.'

Wesley:  I mean all life on the planet, gone!  That's what I 
mean!  I mean an alien race that doesn't share the noble soul
of Kyle Ming took a dislike to four or five billion people
and wipped them out of the universe!  I mean destroyed.  
I mean war.

Lynn:  War.  Always a new war...  The Klingons.  The Romulans.
The Borg.  Always a new war.

Wesley:  Nothing like this.  Never a whole world.  Gone.  It's 
a lifeless, barren, severely radio-active rock.

Wesley sits down on the bed, almost in a daze.

Wesley:  A dead rock.

Lynn puts her arm around him.
Five Star Trek - Part 12

   Last lines - Part 11:

   Wesley:  I mean all life on the planet, gone!  That's what I 
   mean!  I mean an alien race that doesn't share the noble soul
   of Kyle Ming took a dislike to four or five billion people
   and wipped them out of the universe!  I mean destroyed.  
   I mean war.

   Lynn:  War.  Always a new war...  The Klingons.  The Romulans.
   The Borg.  Always a new war.

   Wesley:  Nothing like this.  Never a whole world.  Gone.  It's 
   a lifeless, barren, severely radio-active rock.

   Wesley sits down on the bed, almost in a daze.

   Wesley:  A dead rock.

   Lynn puts her arm around him.

Part 12:

Enterprise bridge.  Very solemn.  Troi notably not present.

Data:  There has been no response from Alpha Bellune 5.  
Communications equipment indicates an error in transmission.  Most 
likely...

Picard:  Most likely we are too late.

Data:  That is only one of several possible conclusions.

Picard:  It is the most likely conclusion.

Sopp:  Bretai will not send an expeditiary force.  Having taken 
your measure, he will move with his entire fleet.  He has had 
time.  The deed has been done.

Picard:  Another world, dead.

Data:  Other than the research station, Alpha Bellune's only life 
forms were single-cell organisms.

Picard:  A vast sea of single-cell organisms, theorized to be the 
beginnings of a unified mind.

Data:  That was Alder'k San's hypothesis.  Unproven, at the 
moment.

Picard:  Unproven for all moments!  Mr. Sopp!

Sopp:  Yes, Captain?

Picard:  Can these Zentradi - these madmen - be stopped?  Can 
they?

Sopp:  They are not mad, Captain.  They know only rational battle.  
Bretai is cutting the spider's web, limiting it's options to a 
single strand.  The Zentradi can be stopped.  They will stop. At 
this world you know as 'Earth.'  Either Poseidal will destroy 
them, or they shall destroy him and then themselves, having 
accomplished the sole objective of their being.  Either way, they 
will stop.

Data:  What does Poseidal want with Earth?

Sopp:  I am not Poseidal.  I cannot say.

Picard:  If the Zentradi do not destroy it, will he?

Sopp:  No, Captain.  That much, I know. 

Worf:  Captain, the Yamato is signaling.  Commodore Hayes is ready 
to begin the briefing.

Picard:  Begin the conference session.

The images of several Star Fleet officers appears onscreen.  It is 
not a 'true' image - but rather one constructed by placing the 
captain's of each ship next to each other, Commodore Hayes at the 
center.

Hayes:  Greetings, Enterprise.  

Picard:  Greetings, Yamato.

Hayes:  Would that the circumstances of our being brought together 
were different...

Klingon Captain:  Under different circumstances, such a conference 
would not be necessary.  I understand, Enterprise, there is an 
alien on your bridge.

Picard:  Correct, R'Shall.

Klingon Captain:  Is it...  wise?

Hayes:  I have consented to his presence.

Picard:  Mr. Sopp will brief us on the Zentradi capabilities.

Hayes:  Before we begin, Enterprise, I trust our civilian cargo 
has arrived safely?

Picard [jokingly]:  We have given them quarters to which they may 
be more accustomed than your Spartan offerings, Commodore.  Safety 
is another matter.  Being aboard a ship about to fly into combat 
with the unknown...

Sopp:  Combat is always unknown.  Even for those who have fought 
through the millenia, each battle is unique.

Hayes:  That was the alien?

Picard:  Yes.

Hayes:  Add him to the conference.  Let us begin.

Klingon Captain:  That is the alien?  A little boy.  Or... girl?  
Terran in appearance. Your kind had a very promiscuous progenator, 
traipsing from one star to the next, across even the galaxies.  
But seriously, if our knowledge of the aliens is to come from a 
child, perhaps we would be better off with the completely unknown, 
than the distortions - unintentional as they may be - of youthful 
exuberance.

Sopp:  Perhaps not.

Hayes:  Let him...  him, yes?...  Let him continue.

Sopp:  

Thank you, Commodore.  

Your fleet is badly outgunned.  Should one of their primary weapon 
bank's score a hit, the impacted ship will almost certainly be 
destroyed.  Your maneuverability should reduce the chances of this 
happening considerably - perchance to sheer luck on the Zentradi 
part - but one is occasionally lucky, and the Zentradi are superb 
at adapting:  should a predictable pattern emerge in a vessel's 
maneuvering, the Zentradi gunners will detect it.  

Defensively, the Zentradi screens are weaker than yours.  Your 
beam weapons should penetrate fairly well.  However, the armor on 
these capital ships is ponderous in the extreme.  Cutting attacks 
will be useless.  Even your explosive devices - impressive as I 
find them to be - will little more than blacken the surface.  
However, but cutting precise holes in the armor, accurate 
placement of photon torpedoes could be devastating.  This will be 
facilitated by the relative immobility of the battleships.  
However, lining up such an accurate shot will necessarily 
jeaprodize the attacking vessel.  Almost certainly, the Zentradi 
guns will destroy such an attacking craft.

If you have warriors willing to die such that the whole might 
win...  

Finally, and most importantly, you have the advantage in 
manueverability only so long as the Zentradi are not able to 
launch significant numbers of the BattleOids.  Should that happen, 
you will be flooded with small craft - of considerable firepower 
despite their size - and with a maneuverability you cannot even 
conceive of.  Should a Headliner be present in this fleet - and I 
believe there is at least one...

It must not happen.  You will be doomed.  The hangar bays on the 
carrier must be your first priority.  Destroy the BattleOids 
before they are launched at all costs.  

All costs...

Ten Forward.  Deserted. 

Except for Lynn and Kyle.  Kyle stands, hands clasped behind his 
back, looking forward into space.  Deep in thought.  Lynn rests in 
a chair/couch, also deep in thought.  Guinan polishes a glass, 
behind the bar, watching the two young stars.

Lynn:  It's kind of romantic, don't you think, going off to war?

Kyle:  Yes.

Lynn:  I'm not as frightened as I thought I might be.  Oh, I'm 
scared of death - that much is true.  But I don't feel like I'm 
going to die.  And even if I should, I can't say what it is about 
dying that frightens me.  It's a strange fear.

Kyle:  A strange fear.

Lynn:  Are you afraid?

Kyle:  No.

Lynn:  You never were.  That's to bad.

Kyle:  It is difficult, sometimes, to always be in control.  I was 
determined, very early in life, to stay in control - if not of the 
events around me, then at least of myself.

Lynn:  And because of that, I was always determined not to be in 
control.

Guinan [who has approached]:  Yin and yang.

Lynn [smiling]:  Yes.  Are you afraid, strange lady?

Guinan:  I'm afraid, like your afraid.  Afraid of death - but not 
knowing why.  Sometimes, I think - how pointless to die.  But 
othertimes, just as often if not more, in fact, I think - how 
pointless to live.

Kyle:  But we must live.  And we must die.

Guinan:  Yin and yang.

Enterprise bridge.  Yellow alert.  Tense.

Picard:  Where is Sopp!

Worf:  He is not in his quarters.  No reports of him. Anywhere.

Picard:  Damn it!  Find him!

Riker:  You think he may be tricking us?

Picard:  I don't know what to think...

Worf:  Captain, transporter room coming on line.  Co-ordinates...  
deep space!

Riker:  Sopp?

Data:  He could not survive in deep space, Commander Riker...

Transporter room.  Sopp on the platform

Sopp:  I'm sorry, Captain Picard, to leave you before you're 
battle.  But the fight is yours.  Not mine.  But we shall meet 
again, and I shall stand by your side.

Picard [remotely]:  Mr. Sopp!  

The platform begins to glow.

Sopp [soft whisper]:  Knight of Gold...  I need you.
Five Star Trek - Part 13

   Last lines - Part 12:

   Sopp:  I'm sorry, Captain Picard, to leave you before you're    
   battle.  But the fight is yours.  Not mine.  But we shall meet 
   again, and I shall stand by your side.

   Picard [remotely]:  Mr. Sopp!  

   The platform begins to glow.

   Sopp [soft whisper]:  Knight of Gold...  I need you.

Part 13:

Enterprise bridge.  All eyes, fixed on the main screen, which shows
Sopp's arrival in deep space.  As he materializes, a cocoon of yellow-
white light forms about him.  Wispy and ethereal.  Sopp slowly 
transforms.  His hair becomes long and vaguely lavender.  He becomes
taller.  Thiner.  Even more delicate.

Picard:  Poseidal!

Riker:  He tricked us...

Data:  Sir, sensors reporting massive sub-space disturbances, highly
localized.  Another 'transference'?

Picard:  The Grand Adas?

Data:  No, Captain.  Much smaller.  The energy fluctuations should not
pose a threat to the Enterprise.

A brilliant explosion of light, silhouetting Poseidal.  The Enterprise
rocks in the concussion.  The light dims.  Poseidal appears completely
unharmed.  Behind him, the Knight of Gold: a tower of armor, much like 
Rogner's Mortarr Head, seemingly made from gold.

The Mortarr Head extends a hand, grabbing Poseidal.  It pulls him to 
it's chest, where an opening appears.  Poseidal enters.

Picard:  Get him!

Data:  Not possible, Captain.  The 'Mortarr Head' is generating an
interference pattern...

Worf:  Shall I engage tractor beams, Captain?

Picard:  Make it so.

Inside the Knight of Gold, Poseidal positions himself in the web of 
cables.  From above, Atrophos speaks.

Atrophos:  It makes me very happy to see you again, my Lord.  Your 
absence has been a drain.

Poseidal:  That's very sweet, Atrophos.  I don't think we shall again
be parted.  Not soon.

Atrophos:  I hope not, my Lord.  Ah!  How ironic...  The butterfly tries
to snare us in a net.

Enterprise bridge.

Worf:  Captain, we are having no effect.

Riker:  Increase power?

Picard:  Yes.

Worf:  Increasing...  Captain, we are being hailed.

Picard:  Onscreen.

Poseidal:  I am sorry, Captain.  I cannot stay with you.  This your
fight.

Picard:  A fight you've set up, perhaps?

Poseidal:  In a very indirect way, you could say that.  But it was not
my choice, the target Bretai chose.  We may meet again, Captain.

Picard:  Earth?

Poseidal:  The third world...?  Yes.  We may meet in the skies above the
third world.

Picard:  And what can we expect when we return?

Poseidal:  If you return, Captain.

The image goes blank.  Onscreen, pale flames engulf the Knight of 
Gold.

Picard:  Maximum power to tractor beams!

The Knight of Gold vanishes.

Worf:  We've lost him, Captain.  The Yamato is hailing us.

Riker:  The Commodore probably wants to know what just happened.

Picard:  So do I, Number One.  And I want to know what's going to
happen.

Bridge of the Grand Adas.  Poseidal enters.  Though dwarved by the 
cavernous chamber, his presence nevertheless fills it.  Atrophos 
walks closely behind, to his right.  Both wear ornate, almost 
ceremonial robes.

Aisha, looking almost identical to Poseidal, rises from the
command chair.

Aisha:  Hail, Great Poseidal!  You should take more frequent 
leaves of absence.  Things have been ever so much more fun.

Poseidal:  So I am told.  

Aisha:  These... Romulans?  These Romulans, they have been an
engaging opponent.  Engaging one moment, not so engaging the
next.  There hiding capabilities exceed those of the earlier
ships...

Poseidal:  The Klingons.

Aisha:  With a name like that, it is a small wonder...

Poseidal:  Of all the races here, dear Aisha, I think perhaps
the Klingons would be most to your liking.

Aisha:  More so than the Romulans.  Threats, threats, threats.
They are very good at making threats.  They have proven less
capable of carrying them out - though their weapons have badly
singed our hull, I dare say...

Poseidal:  Well, no longer.  We're leaving.

Aisha:  A transference?

Poseidal:  Yes.  To the third world.  The game is up.  Bretai 
has destroyed two worlds.  His bio-relation reserves are too low,
now, to make the last transference.  And we are much nearer our
destination.  The expediture will not harm our strategic position.

Aisha:  You've played the Zentradi very well, Lord Poseidal.

Poseidal:  No.  Bretai did what he had to do.  Made the choices he
had to make.  I did nothing.  But that shall all change.  Soon...
Above Earth.

Picard's ready room.

Picard: Captain's log, supplemental.  Soon, the Enterprise shall 
be locked in a fight to the death.  Our enemy:  an alien race
capable of destroying entire worlds - entire civilizations.  More
than their military capacity, it is the pathological state of 
being they must possess which frightens me so.  What manner of 
military could lay waste to a world of no military signifance.  
No.  Lay waste does not fully encompass what has befallen.
Betazed is no more.  And as for the motivations of it's 
destructors, we have only the words of an enigmatic general,
himself an alien, himself possessing an agenda, himself 
possibly at odds with the interests of the Federation.  Himself
heading to Earth.

Worf [remotely]:  Captain, we have reached the staging area.

Picard:  On my way.

Picard stands and exits.  We see him enter the bridge.  It has 
been gripped by a cold, military efficiency.  All officers snap
to attention upon his entry.

Picard:  All stations report.

Riker:  All reporting, ready and able.

Picard:  Fleet status?

Data:  All first wave ships, in position and waiting on command
from the Commodore.  The Yamato has given full stop orders.

Picard:  Full stop.  Picard to all sections:  full battle alert.  
Repeat.  Full battle alert.  This is not a drill.  All personnel 
report immediately to assigned battle stations.  Systems report.

Worf:  Engineering fully on-line, warp engines operating at 
peak efficiency, all shields at full capacity.  Torpedo tubes
fully loaded, all phasers ready and waiting.  Captain...

Picard:  Yes, Lieutenant Worf?

Worf:  We are ready.

Bridge of the Yamato.  Commodore Hayes stands before multiple
displays.

Hayes:  Yamato to fleet.  Report.

A quick succession of images pass before her - the captains of
each ship.  All reporting.  The last to report is Picard.

Hayes:  The alien has not returned?

Picard:  No, Commodore.  And there is no reason to believe he 
shall.  It is our fight.

Hayes:  It always was.  Yamato to fleet:  tactics have been 
explained.  Follow us in.

The screens blank.  Hayes turns slowly to Wesley, seated at the
navigation console.

Hayes:  Warp nine.

From space:  the Yamato streaks away, an explosion of color and
light.  Immediately, the assembled ships follow her.  Several
Klingon craft, several Federation cruisers.  The Enterprise is 
the last to leave.

The cabin of Lynn and Kyle Ming.

Lynn:  Well, it's begun.  And here we are.  Not much to do now but wait.

Kyle:  Wait in this tiny cubical.  Blind to events beyond these dull 
walls.  Waiting to die. Or not to die.

Lynn:  It is kind of depressing...

Kyle:  Kind of.  Depressing and infuriating.  Stuck.  Immobile and 
helpless, our lives hanging by the competence of a pack of Star Brats.

Lynn:  There you go again.

Kyle:  It's true.

Lynn:  Well, we don't have to wait here.

Kyle:  Oh, no?

Lynn:  No.

Kyle:  The doors are sealed. Automatically...

Lynn gets up and saunters over to the door.  Starts fiddling with a 
panel.

Lynn:  I can open it.

Kyle:  Yeah.  Right...

It opens.

Lynn:  Come on!

Kyle:  Come on, where?  Here you go again.

Lynn:  What's the matter?  All talk?

Kyle:  These childish games have got to stop...

Lynn:  Maybe they will, but I'm going to watch it happen.

She leaves.  After a moment, Kyle races after her.  The corridor is
deserted.  A red alert sounds.  Lynn stops beside a turbo-lift.
Kyle catches up to her.

Lynn:  All the officers have moved to the Battle Bridge.  Deeper in
the ship.  The main bridge will be deserted.

Kyle:  And?

Lynn:  And we can watch from there.

Kyle:  How do we get there?

Lynn:  We climb.

Kyle:  Climb?

Lynn starts fiddling with a panel.  The turbo-shaft doors open, 
revealing an empty shaft.  Kyle looks up.

Lynn:  Climb.

Kyle:  How do you know all this stuff?

Lynn:  If you're nice to them, Star Brats can be nice to you.

Kyle:  Oh, and I'm sure you've been very nice.

Lynn:  Very nice.  Now start climbing.

Bridge of Azonia's command ship.  The Zentradi woman paces along a
catwalk.  A holo-image springs to life near her.

Zentradi:  Commander!  Twenty alien craft approaching at very high
speed.  

Azonia:  Specifics.

Zentradi:  Their angle of approach is head-on into our tracking arrays.
It is difficult to fix on them.  I cannot be more specific at this 
time.

Azonia:  Relay tracking through the other vessels immediately.

Zentradi:  Yes, Commander.

Azonia [to herself]:  Odd that the aliens would be able
to execute such a tactic...

Zentradi:  Twenty craft, similar in design and construction to those
encountered earlier.  Generally, larger.  More powerful propulsion
systems.  Much stronger shielding, though shields have been concentrated
at fore of each vessel...

Azonia:  Logical.  Range?

Zentradi:  They will be within range of our main guns in moments.

Azonia:  Target all weaponry on the aliens.  They haven't learned?
That seems odd...

Zentradi:  Guns moving into position.  Aliens holding course.

Azonia:  Fire immediately when targets in range.

Zentradi:  Holding.  Holding.  Holding.  Targets closing.  Main guns 
fully charged.  Holding.  Initiating firing sequence...

The bridge lights with a brilliant flare as the main guns fire.

Zentradi:  Commander!  The aliens broke formation immediately after
entering range!  They couldn't possibly react so quickly!  It's
impossible!

Azonia:  Impossible.  Unless...  Unless they knew our range.  Knew
precisely.  Which is impossible.  Unless...  Unless Poseidal has
been interfering!  Full battle alert.  All ships!  Full alert!
Finally!  A real fight.  Finally!

Enterprise battle bridge.  Onscreen, the Zentradi ships.  Nearer and 
nearer.

Data:  Seconds to threshold:  five, four, three, two, breaking 
formation...

Onscreen, brilliant shafts of energy lance out from the Zentradi.  The
crew strains against the ships rapid bank.  The shafts miss.

Picard:  Right on schedule!  Report!

Worf:  All ships, surviving, Captain.

Riker:  A hit by one of those guns and our shields would just make the
pain last a little longer...

Worf:  Outer decks, starboard side, reporting radiation damage.  No
causualty figures yet...

Riker:  Secondary weapon?  Something Poseidal forgot to mention?

Data:  More likely, simply an after-effect of the initial discharge.
The beams passed us to the starboard side.  Smaller craft may be 
more severely impacted...

Picard:  Ours is to consider only our own role.  End discussion.
Move on assigned target.

Space.  

The Enterprise -

Banks. Lines up on one of the outer cruisers. Accelerates. Secondary 
fire from the cruiser system-matically criss-crossing the void.  Shields 
flare.  Shots graze her hull.  

Phaser fire leaps from under the saucer.

Banking.  Passing the cruiser.  Near in.  Different banks take up the
barrage as the forward ones move out of position.  Scarring the powerful
armor of the Zentradi hull.

Rapid turn.  Moving away.  All shields, rear.  

Photon torpedos.  Firing.  Towards scar.  Impact on surface.  Flying 
metal.  The cruiser's fire continues.  Unabatted.  A warp nacelle
is damaged.  Jets of ionized gas spew into space.

The Enterprise banks again.  A second run.

Azonia's Carrier -

Five Klingon Bird's of Prey dive on the giant ship.  Streaking for the 
vast hangar doors.  The carrier has more guns - bigger guns - than the
cruisers.  They concentrate on one of the Klingons.  It's shields are
pulverized even as the five release a volley of photon torpedoes.  The
explosions ripple across the armored bay.  

The guns continue concentrating on the single ship.  One of it's wings
is sheered off.  As the other four ships flatten out their trajectory 
and skim above the behemoth's hull, the damaged vessel continues 
forward, slamming into the doors.

A titanic explosion, and the hangar is breached.  

Remaining close in to the carrier, so as not to come under concentrated
fire, the surviving four skim over the ship, circling back to make 
another pass at the hangar.

Inside the hangar bay, an army of battle-suited Zentradi make ready for
the leap into space.  The explosion knocks many to their feet.  Many
are destroyed.  The others regroup.

Above the main floor, a Mortarr Head surveys the scene.  More ornate 
than the battle-suits and slightly larger, it commands a position 
of respect.  Inside, the Headliner Miria Piria - human in size - broods
over the Federation tactics.

Miria:  Hermes, the aliens will continue attacking the hangar doors.  
They do not want the BattleSuits to launch.  We must look for another
exit.

Hermes [her male Fatima, in the head]:  There are none, Mistriss Piria.

Miria:  Then we shall make one.

The Mortar Head turns towards an interior wall, opening fire with it's
great gun.  Several of the Zentradi look up in shock, as Miria pulls
the ruined wall apart and steps through.  She continues to cut a path
of destruction, even as the Klingon ships come around again.

Needing a steeper angle of attack, the Bird's of Prey rocket away from
the carrier, near the hangar doors, covering themselves with rear
photon torpedos.  The torpedos explode on the carrier's hull, missing
the hangar, but the explosions keep the Zentradi BattleSuits from 
launching into space.

A barrage of fire follows the Klingons into space.  The Klingons turn.

Enterprise bridge (main).  Kyle and Lynn watch as the Enterprise banks
again.  The target cruiser comes into view.  

Lynn:  Here we go again.  Look at all the weapons.  You know, it's kind
of pretty, that ship.

Kyle:  You mean, with all the lights?

Lynn:  Yeah.  There even prettier, thinking how deadly they are.  I
wonder, will our shields continue to hold?

Kyle:  We'll know soon enough.

Lynn:  So fast.  It all happens so fast.  Those beams, those are ours...

Kyle:  They're very clever, these Star Brats.  Cutting a hole in the 
tank, and tossing a grendade in...

Lynn:  So much death.  Will we win?  Does it matter?  I guess it does.
But who can say, who has more right to live?

Kyle:  They attacked first, as I understand it.

Lynn:  Yes, I guess that matters...

Azonia's command center.

Azonia:  Contact the Gur'paal.

Zentradi:  Gur'paal responding, Commander.

Azonia:  Gur'paal, target you're main guns on this location...

Gur'paal Commander:  But Lady Azonia!  That's your hangar!

Azonia:  Do not question me again!

Commander:  Yes, Commander!  At once!  Forgive me, Commander!

The image disappears.

Outside, the Klingon's swirl about, switching full power to their
forward shields.  They dive, screaming for their target.  The
forward torpedo tubes glow a menacing red.

Azonia:  Fire!

One of the cruisers delivers a broadside with it's main guns, all
aimed at the blasted hangar door.  The Klingon's, no shielding
to their rear, disintigrate almost immediately.  The beams carry
through into the hangar, blasting a huge section of armor from the far
side of the carrier.

Azonia's command chamber.

Zentradi:  Eighty-five percent of all troops in main hangar, dead.
Ten percent, fully inoperational.  Remaining, varying degrees of
operation.  One percent, fully operational.

Miria [appears on holo before Azonia]:  Brilliant stroke, Azonia.

Azonia:  Thank you, Lady Piria.

Five Star Trek - Part 14

   Last lines - Part 13:

   Picard:  No, Commodore.  And there is no reason to believe he 
   shall.  It is our fight.

   Hayes:  It always was.  Yamato to fleet:  tactics have been 
   explained.  Follow us in.

   The screens blank.  Hayes turns slowly to Wesley, seated at the
   navigation console.

   Hayes:  Warp nine.

   From space:  the Yamato streaks away, an explosion of color and
   light.  Immediately, the assembled ships follow her.  Several
   Klingon craft, several Federation cruisers.  The Enterprise is 
   the last to leave.

Part 14:

The cabin of Lynn and Kyle Ming.

Lynn:  Well, it's begun.  And here we are.  Not much to do now but wait.

Kyle:  Wait in this tiny cubical.  Blind to events beyond these dull 
walls.  Waiting to die. Or not to die.

Lynn:  It is kind of depressing...

Kyle:  Kind of.  Depressing and infuriating.  Stuck.  Immobile and 
helpless, our lives hanging by the competence of a pack of Star Brats.

Lynn:  There you go again.

Kyle:  It's true.

Lynn:  Well, we don't have to wait here.

Kyle:  Oh, no?

Lynn:  No.

Kyle:  The doors are sealed. Automatically...

Lynn gets up and saunters over to the door.  Starts fiddling with a 
panel.

Lynn:  I can open it.

Kyle:  Yeah.  Right...

It opens.

Lynn:  Come on!

Kyle:  Come on, where?  Here you go again.

Lynn:  What's the matter?  All talk?

Kyle:  These childish games have got to stop...

Lynn:  Maybe they will, but I'm going to watch it happen.

She leaves.  After a moment, Kyle races after her.  The corridor is
deserted.  A red alert sounds.  Lynn stops beside a turbo-lift.
Kyle catches up to her.

Lynn:  All the officers have moved to the Battle Bridge.  Deeper in
the ship.  The main bridge will be deserted.

Kyle:  And?

Lynn:  And we can watch from there.

Kyle:  How do we get there?

Lynn:  We climb.

Kyle:  Climb?

Lynn starts fiddling with a panel.  The turbo-shaft doors open, 
revealing an empty shaft.  Kyle looks up.

Lynn:  Climb.

Kyle:  How do you know all this stuff?

Lynn:  If you're nice to them, Star Brats can be nice to you.

Kyle:  Oh, and I'm sure you've been very nice.

Lynn:  Very nice.  Now start climbing.

Bridge of Azonia's command ship.  The Zentradi woman paces along a
catwalk.  A holo-image springs to life near her.

Zentradi:  Commander!  Twenty alien craft approaching at very high
speed.  

Azonia:  Specifics.

Zentradi:  Their angle of approach is head-on into our tracking arrays.
It is difficult to fix on them.  I cannot be more specific at this 
time.

Azonia:  Relay tracking through the other vessels immediately.

Zentradi:  Yes, Commander.

Azonia [to herself]:  Odd that the aliens would be able
to execute such a tactic...

Zentradi:  Twenty craft, similar in design and construction to those
encountered earlier.  Generally, larger.  More powerful propulsion
systems.  Much stronger shielding, though shields have been concentrated
at fore of each vessel...

Azonia:  Logical.  Range?

Zentradi:  They will be within range of our main guns in moments.

Azonia:  Target all weaponry on the aliens.  They haven't learned?
That seems odd...

Zentradi:  Guns moving into position.  Aliens holding course.

Azonia:  Fire immediately when targets in range.

Zentradi:  Holding.  Holding.  Holding.  Targets closing.  Main guns 
fully charged.  Holding.  Initiating firing sequence...

The bridge lights with a brilliant flare as the main guns fire.

Zentradi:  Commander!  The aliens broke formation immediately after
entering range!  They couldn't possibly react so quickly!  It's
impossible!

Azonia:  Impossible.  Unless...  Unless they knew our range.  Knew
precisely.  Which is impossible.  Unless...  Unless Poseidal has
been interfering!  Full battle alert.  All ships!  Full alert!
Finally!  A real fight.  Finally!

Enterprise battle bridge.  Onscreen, the Zentradi ships.  Nearer and 
nearer.

Data:  Seconds to threshold:  five, four, three, two, breaking 
formation...

Onscreen, brilliant shafts of energy lance out from the Zentradi.  The
crew strains against the ships rapid bank.  The shafts miss.

Picard:  Right on schedule!  Report!

Worf:  All ships, surviving, Captain.

Riker:  A hit by one of those guns and our shields would just make the
pain last a little longer...

Worf:  Outer decks, starboard side, reporting radiation damage.  No
causualty figures yet...

Riker:  Secondary weapon?  Something Poseidal forgot to mention?

Data:  More likely, simply an after-effect of the initial discharge.
The beams passed us to the starboard side.  Smaller craft may be 
more severely impacted...

Picard:  Ours is to consider only our own role.  End discussion.
Move on assigned target.

Space.  

The Enterprise -

Banks. Lines up on one of the outer cruisers. Accelerates. Secondary 
fire from the cruiser system-matically criss-crossing the void.  Shields 
flare.  Shots graze her hull.  

Phaser fire leaps from under the saucer.

Banking.  Passing the cruiser.  Near in.  Different banks take up the
barrage as the forward ones move out of position.  Scarring the powerful
armor of the Zentradi hull.

Rapid turn.  Moving away.  All shields, rear.  

Photon torpedos.  Firing.  Towards scar.  Impact on surface.  Flying 
metal.  The cruiser's fire continues.  Unabatted.  A warp nacelle
is damaged.  Jets of ionized gas spew into space.

The Enterprise banks again.  A second run.

Azonia's Carrier -

Five Klingon Bird's of Prey dive on the giant ship.  Streaking for the 
vast hangar doors.  The carrier has more guns - bigger guns - than the
cruisers.  They concentrate on one of the Klingons.  It's shields are
pulverized even as the five release a volley of photon torpedoes.  The
explosions ripple across the armored bay.  

The guns continue concentrating on the single ship.  One of it's wings
is sheered off.  As the other four ships flatten out their trajectory 
and skim above the behemoth's hull, the damaged vessel continues 
forward, slamming into the doors.

A titanic explosion, and the hangar is breached.  

Remaining close in to the carrier, so as not to come under concentrated
fire, the surviving four skim over the ship, circling back to make 
another pass at the hangar.

Inside the hangar bay, an army of battle-suited Zentradi make ready for
the leap into space.  The explosion knocks many to their feet.  Many
are destroyed.  The others regroup.

Above the main floor, a Mortarr Head surveys the scene.  More ornate 
than the battle-suits and slightly larger, it commands a position 
of respect.  Inside, the Headliner Miria Piria - human in size - broods
over the Federation tactics.

Miria:  Hermes, the aliens will continue attacking the hangar doors.  
They do not want the BattleSuits to launch.  We must look for another
exit.

Hermes [her male Fatima, in the head]:  There are none, Mistriss Piria.

Miria:  Then we shall make one.

The Mortar Head turns towards an interior wall, opening fire with it's
great gun.  Several of the Zentradi look up in shock, as Miria pulls
the ruined wall apart and steps through.  She continues to cut a path
of destruction, even as the Klingon ships come around again.

Needing a steeper angle of attack, the Bird's of Prey rocket away from
the carrier, near the hangar doors, covering themselves with rear
photon torpedos.  The torpedos explode on the carrier's hull, missing
the hangar, but the explosions keep the Zentradi BattleSuits from 
launching into space.

A barrage of fire follows the Klingons into space.  The Klingons turn.

Enterprise bridge (main).  Kyle and Lynn watch as the Enterprise banks
again.  The target cruiser comes into view.  

Lynn:  Here we go again.  Look at all the weapons.  You know, it's kind
of pretty, that ship.

Kyle:  You mean, with all the lights?

Lynn:  Yeah.  There even prettier, thinking how deadly they are.  I
wonder, will our shields continue to hold?

Kyle:  We'll know soon enough.

Lynn:  So fast.  It all happens so fast.  Those beams, those are ours...

Kyle:  They're very clever, these Star Brats.  Cutting a hole in the 
tank, and tossing a grendade in...

Lynn:  So much death.  Will we win?  Does it matter?  I guess it does.
But who can say, who has more right to live?

Kyle:  They attacked first, as I understand it.

Lynn:  Yes, I guess that matters...

Azonia's command center.

Azonia:  Contact the Gur'paal.

Zentradi:  Gur'paal responding, Commander.

Azonia:  Gur'paal, target you're main guns on this location...

Gur'paal Commander:  But Lady Azonia!  That's your hangar!

Azonia:  Do not question me again!

Commander:  Yes, Commander!  At once!  Forgive me, Commander!

The image disappears.

Outside, the Klingon's swirl about, switching full power to their
forward shields.  They dive, screaming for their target.  The
forward torpedo tubes glow a menacing red.

Azonia:  Fire!

One of the cruisers delivers a broadside with it's main guns, all
aimed at the blasted hangar door.  The Klingon's, no shielding
to their rear, disintigrate almost immediately.  The beams carry
through into the hangar, blasting a huge section of armor from the far
side of the carrier.

Azonia's command chamber.

Zentradi:  Eighty-five percent of all troops in main hangar, dead.
Ten percent, fully inoperational.  Remaining, varying degrees of
operation.  One percent, fully operational.

Miria [appears on holo before Azonia]:  Brilliant stroke, Azonia.

Azonia:  Thank you, Lady Piria.

Five Star Trek - Part 15

   Last lines - Part 14:

   One of the cruisers delivers a broadside with it's main guns, all
   aimed at the blasted hangar door.  The Klingon's, no shielding
   to their rear, disintigrate almost immediately.  The beams carry
   through into the hangar, blasting a huge section of armor from the 
   side of the carrier.

   Azonia's command chamber.

   Zentradi:  Eighty-five percent of all troops in main hangar, dead.
   Ten percent, fully inoperational.  Remaining, varying degrees of
   operation.  One percent, fully operational.

   Miria [appears on holo before Azonia]:  Brilliant stroke, Azonia.

   Azonia:  Thank you, Lady Piria.

Part 15:

Enterprise Battle Bridge.  The giant Zentradi cruiser looms ever larger
on the main screen.  It is seen as if through a fog, as the constant
impact of secondary weapon beams on the Enterprises shields creates a
haze of bluish fire.

Worf:  Fore torpedos firing, Captain...

Riker:  Seems like we've been pounding them for hours...

Worf:  Torpedos impacting.  On target, Captain.

Data:  Seven minutes, thirty-four seconds, Commander Riker.  This is our
third run...

Riker:  I know that, Data.  I can count.

Data:  Of course, Commander...

Picard:  Data, how much damage have we done?

Data:  Modeling the cruiser based on the materials estimates provided by
Poseidal...

Riker:  Which may or may not be accurate.

Data:  Superficial scans of debris support Poseidal's information.  I 
shall assume they are accurate, otherwise estimation is not possible.
My projection is that the cruiser has been reduced to seventy-five
percent energy capacity and has sustained incapacitating casualties to
fifty-three percent of her crew.  The third torpedo should have 
penetrated to roughly the center of the vessel.  Two more runs, and
we may succeed in cutting her in half.

Riker:  If we survive two more runs.  Our own figures are not 
encouraging, Captain.  We can't sustain this barrage much longer.  Even
if she's at seventy-five percent power, there have been no indications
of a let up in firing rate or strength...

Worf:  Aft torpedos firing, Captain.

Data:  Our attack has concentrated on inflicting the most severe damage
in the shortest amount of time.  Given all weapon systems are self-
powered, to reduce the cruisers firing capacity would require attacking
those systems directly.

Picard:  And that we definitely would not survive...

Data:  It will be close, Captain, but I believe we will be capable of
delivering the last two shots...

Picard:  Believe isn't good enough.  We've got to do it.

Worf:  Port nacelle has sustained two direct hits.  Anti-matter 
containment fields are jeaprodized.  Engineering reports increased
casualties...  Radiation contamination, Captain.

Riker:  We'll have to shut the nacelle down.

Picard:  Make it so.

Data:  We will be reduced to thirty-eight percent...

Picard:  Noted.  Cease all phaser fire.  We're not accomplishing 
anything with it anymore, anyway.  Power down phaser banks and 
divert all available power to shields.  We'll take two more 
torpedo shots, and that's it.

Riker:  Let's hope that's enough.

Picard:  It doesn't matter what we hope, Number One.  It has to
be enough.

Azonia's bridge.  Another Zentradi woman walks beside her along
the catwalk.  Images of the battle flicker on and off around them.

Azonia:  The aliens are beginning to falter.  Their speed is impressive,
Cordella, and remarkably sustainable.  Their inability to sustain
punishment - that is their weakness.  Have the remaining BattleSuits
regrouped?

Cordella:  Yes, Commander.  Twenty-five in the main hangar.  Seven with
Lady Piria.

Azonia:  Excellent.  

Cordella:  The Rasheem has been destroyed.

An image crystalizes before the pair.  It shows one of the cruisers - 
being attacked by the Yamato.  The Yamato streaks in on it's final
approach, launching two photon torpedos in quick succession.  The 
globes of light disappear into the cruiser.  The exposed metal 
skeleton flashes crimson as the first torpedo detonates.  The second
blasts through the far side of the ship.  Several secondary explosions
ripple along the hull.  The cruiser breaks in half.

Cordella:  The Hwrack-Altrop...

Another image, of another cruiser.  This one beset by four Klingon 
warships and two Federation destroyers.  The destroyers have been
badly damaged, missing large sections of their saucers, one with a
nacelle completely severed.  Even as we watch, a barrage of fire
from the cruiser pierces one of the destroyers - atomizing it.  The
other, rotating slightly and obviously not in complete control of it's
movements, fires a flury of photon torpedos haphazardly at the Zentradi
vessel.  The burst drains too much power from her shields, and that 
ship, too, is destroyed.

The Klingon ships, themselves badly damaged, descend on the cruiser in
a tight 'V' - uneven, having already lost one of their commrades.  The
cruiser concentrates fire on the point vessel, overcoming it.  But even
as their leader disintegrates, the others continue their dive, not
breaking off.  They slam into the gaping maw in the cruiser's side.

It suffers a fate similar to the first, being wracked by explosions even
as it breaks into halves.

Azonia:  Brief me.

Cordella:  The aliens have destroyed two vessels and severly cripple 
both the Gur Paal and the Hwri.  Their attacks upon this vessel have
been largely unsuccessful, save for the destruction of our primary 
hangar.  Of an initial twenty craft, the aliens have been reduce to 
six:  two large cruisers, one medium, and three of the diving ships.
...The Gur Paal has just been destroyed...  The Hwri has initated 
a self destruction sequence, calculated to destroy it's attackers.
If successful, two of the diving ships and the medium cruiser shall be
removed from battle.

Azonia:  Excellent.  We have them, Cordella.  Three ships.  They'll
be eaten alive by the BattleSuits - if Lady Piria doesn't finish 
them herself [laughter]

Enterprise bridge.  Scattered fires.  Smoke.  Sweat.  Fear.

Riker:  Forth times a charm.  

Picard:  Put everything we've got left in the forward shields.  We're
going through...

Data:  Through what, Captain?

Picard [rising from his chair]:  Through!

The cruiser looms large and ominous on the main screen.  A sweltering 
barrage of crimson and white light bears down on the Enterprise.  The
shields scream.  The ship rocks.  More fires.

Worf:  Shields failing, Captain...

Riker:  Through the ship?!

Picard:  Yes, God-damn it!  If we even make it that far...

Worf:  Torpedo firing...

Picard:  Hold course.

Worf:  Torpedo detonating.  Secondary explosions...

Data:  Sensors indicating structural integrity fully compromised.  She's
beginning to break up...

Worf:  Shields down, Captain.

Enterprise primary bridge.  Considerably more damaged than the
battle bridge.  Wreckage has been strewn everywhere.  Smoke chokes
the air.  Mutliple fires.

Lynn and Kyle huddle near a side console.  They are bruised and 
bloodied, but surprisingly calm.

Lynn:  So this is what war is like...  Actually like.

Kyle:  They mean to cut the alien in half.

Lynn:  You think so?

Kyle:  We've made three passes.  Each time, hitting the same spot.

Lynn:  Then I imagine things are even worse on the alien vessel.

Kyle:  Only in the middle.  Here we go.  Number four.

The two watch as the Gur Paal grows to fill the screen.  As the
torpedo fires, detonating deep within.  As explosion spawns explosion
and the ship starts to break apart.

Kyle:  We're not pulling up...

Lynn:  You think..?

Kyle:  Maybe.

The pull each other tight, not watching the screen.

Space.

Internal explosions rip the Gur Paal apart as the Enterprise disappears
in the flames.
Five Star Trek - 16

   Last lines - Part 15:

   The two watch as the Gur Paal grows to fill the screen.  As the
   torpedo fires, detonating deep within.  As explosion spawns explosion
   and the ship starts to break apart.

   Kyle:  We're not pulling up...

   Lynn:  You think..?

   Kyle:  Maybe.

   The pull each other tight, not watching the screen.

   Space.

   Internal explosions rip the Gur Paal apart as the Enterprise    
disappears in the flames.

Part 16:

Earth. The far side of the Moon. A brilliant explosion, and the Grand 
Adas has arrived.  Slowly, confidently, she moves past the satelite's 
arc, coming into view of the planet - far below.

Poseidal's command chamber.

Aisha:  A fine world.  As fine as any we could ask for.  Do you think 
the Federation suspects?

Poseidal:  I am certain they suspect many things, but they cannot 
suspect what is to come.  It is beyond the scope of their experiences.

Rogner [noding towards a screen]:  But they expect to be attacked...

Two Federation cruisers glide towards the Grand Adas.

Aisha:  They'll have to do better than that...

Poseidal:  They expect a trick, but not to be attacked.  At least, I 
don't believe so.  They will be asking for more explanations than I care 
to give, however...

Aisha:  Let them ask.

Poseidal:  Always such a fearsome falcon.  Bristling with predatory 
anticipation.

Aisha:  Perhaps.  But these little rabbits bore me.  It's our final 
encounter that has me bristling with anticipation.  I don't suppose the 
Great Poseidal would care to see how I bristle?

Poseidal:  Perhaps.

Aisha:  Empty words.  

Poseidal:  Perhaps Rogner?

Aisha:  Perhaps, yes?

Rogner:  Perhaps no!  I'll check on the Mortarr Heads...

Aisha:  You do that.  Listen...  The rabbits want to talk.

Atrophos:  You should not carry yourself with so much contempt for 
others, Lady Aisha.  It poisons the soul.

Aisha:  Dear Atrophos, if I thought of them as something other than 
rabbits, the deaths that are to come would crush my soul.  For a 
Headliner, there can be only Headliners and rabbits.  Ascribing humanity 
to humanity leads ultimately to madness and despair.

Atrophos:  Perhaps...

Aisha pulls herself up to her full, regal height.  Her hair lashes about 
her like fire, and the metalic silks of her gown shimmer in the pale, 
eerie lights.  She steps onto a teleport platform.

Aisha:  To madness and despair, or to Great Poseidal...

She vanishes.  Atrophos and Poseidal look at each other, knowingly.

Enterprise primary bridge.  Lynn and Kyle release each other.

Lynn:  Still alive...?

Kyle:  Hmmm.

Lynn turns to what remains of the console near them.  She runs her hands 
over the controls for several moments, not speaking.

Lynn:  Our shields are down...

Kyle:  A brilliant move.  This Captain Picard, he deserves a great deal 
of credit, seeking an uncertain death to avoid a certain one.

Lynn:  Strange praise, coming from you.  Certain death?  Uncertain 
death?

Kyle:  Had we attempted to pull away from our dive, we would have come 
under fire.  Caught without shields - destroyed.  By plunging into the 
maelstrom, he caught the gunners on the far side by surprise.  Unable to 
fire - until they could no longer do so.

Lynn:  There remains one ship. The biggest.  And we have been reduced to 
three.  From the fire, into the fire...

Enterprise battle bridge.

Picard:  Report!

Worf:  Shields, gone.  Warp engines, twenty-five percent functional.  
Port nacelle, inoperative. Impulse capacity, one half.  Life support - 
critical, but improving.  All decks, not reporting...  Estimation is 
three-hundred and fifty dead, four hundred injured, half to point of 
incapacitation.

Riker:  We're a mess, Captain.

Picard:  Fleet status!

Data:  Captain...  Only two other ships have survived.

The crew is silent for a moment.

Data:  The Yamato, and Klingon heavy cruiser R'Shall.  Both reporting 
serious conditions, but none so bad as ourselves.

Riker:  The Enterprise wasn't meant as a ship-of-line battle platform...

Picard:  No, Number One.  She was not...

Several brilliant flashes jar Picard from his gloom.

Picard:  Get us away from that ship's guns!  Now!

Riker:  Four down, one to go.  Only this one...  It's armor is too 
strong.  We can't plow through it, like the others.  And it's weaponry.  
We aren't as maneuverable as the light Birds of Prey that went in.  We 
could never get that close.  Even the Yamato's stronger shields - I must 
admit, Captain - I feel very helpless, right now.

Picard:  So do I, Number One.  And there are more of these aliens.  Many 
more.  And their target...  Their target is Earth.

Worf:  Commodore Hayes is hailing us, Captain.

Picard:  Onscreen!

The Commodore appears.  Her long, brown hair has kept it's immaculate 
shape.  Her face betrays no hint of despair.  Her eyes are hard.  The 
Yamato bridge has not suffered nearly so much as the Enterprise.  It 
appears largely untouched.  Only the visible tension of it's crew, 
behind their immovable commander, betrays battle.

Hayes:  We knew you would make it, Enterprise.

Picard:  We're alive, Yamato.  That's all we can say.  Commodore...

Hayes:  Yes?

Picard:  I have a plan.

High Earth orbit.  The Grand Adas glides effortlessly above the blue 
jewel-like planet.  With silent grace, great fans extend along her 
sides, opening out into space like the fins of a gold-fish.  

Poseidal's command chamber.  Aisha walks towards him, moving along the 
long, slender catwalk.  Bellow, the bridge-crew - a small army in and 
off itself - works furiously, emitting a constant drone.

Aisha speaks with calm authority, gone are the lilting, playful tones of 
her voice earlier. 

Aisha:  Maximum harmonic orbit established, Great Poseidal.  Estimating 
forty-five minutes to bio-relation symbiosis.

Poseidal:  Acknowledged.  We shall not have the time to execute a 
complete symbiosis.  Bretai has pushed his fleet hard.

Aisha nods grimly.

Aisha:  I have tuned the ez-laser turbines accordingly.  They are 
generating frequency designed to rapidly stimulate the planet's bio-
relation field.  Our storage coils will begin seed firing in ten 
minutes.  We shall spin of thirty percent of our stored capacity...

Poseidal:   Fifty.

Aisha:  The planet might not absorb the shock.

Posedial:  I have meditated long on this world.  It will absorb the 
strain.  It's not Gustogol, but it is a fine planet, nonetheless.

Atrophos:  Not going to full-symbiosis will place a terrible strain on 
the planets bio-sphere in the wake of our departure.  Gustogol will have 
survived our departure - but it's bio-relation pool was fully mature.  
Will this world survive?  Have your meditations told you that?

Poseidal:  It will be very painful.  But the world will survive.  Seed 
the proto-pool with fifty percent of our capacity.  I calculate a 
positive return within one day.

Aisha:  Our observations support such a conclusion - provided you are 
correct, and the bio-sphere des not become overly excited and melt-down.

Poseidal:  I am correct.  You look worried, Atrophos.

Atrophos:  I am worried, Great Poseidal.  I see the need for what you 
mean to do; yetI

A dull glow burns in Atrophos eyes.  Unconciously, Aisha shrinks back - 
almost imperceptibly.

Atrophos:  Yet... I too am a creature of the bio-relation pool.  One of 
the Fates Fatima - like my sisters Lachesis and Clotho.  I too 
understand it's workings.  I too see ghosts of the future and past as if 
in the present.  Painful, Great Poseidal.  Very painful, indeed, shall 
our departure be...

Azonia's command center.

Cordella:  Enemy vessels have retreated beyond our weapon ranges.

Azonia:  So they think.  Lady Piria?  They belong to you...

Enterprise battle bridge.

Worf:  Captain, several small craft approaching.  Very fast.

Riker:  Several?

Worf:  Sensors are badly damaged, Commander Riker.  Perhaps twenty. 
Perhaps thirty.  I cannot be more specific...

Picard:  Commander Data?

Data:  The craft power-generation curves fall in line with the Zentradi 
BattleSuits Poseidal briefed us on.  All save one, which closely 
resembles the Mortarr Headd configuration.

Picard:  Can we out-run them?

Data:  We could out-run them, Captain - but only through retreat.  We 
cannot out-maneuver them.  Each suit appears to be generating some 
manner of warp-bubble.  Giving it unprecedented maneuverability and 
agility.  I doubt our tracking systems will be able to target them 
succesffullyI

Picard:  Turnabout is fairplay, right Number One?  Shield status!

Worf:  *sub* optimal, Captain.  Restored to perhaps twenty-five percent.

Riker:  While their still in tight formation...

Picard:  Right, Number One.  Arm photon torpedos, Lieutenant Worf.  Fire 
immediately when ready.

Space.  The Zentradi BattleSuits - dull grey, robotic in appearance, 
carrying huge gun-like weaponry - scream towards the Federation vessels 
in clumps.  The fewest move towards the Yamato, yet the one leading the 
way is not a BattleSuit, and is not piloted by a Zentradi.

Lady Miria Piria - human - pilots the Mortarr Head Zegund, a towering 
suit of armor resplendently colored, towards the flagship.  Only two 
Zentradi back her up.  She moves with a speed that puts increasing 
distance between her and her 'backups' - unconcerned.

In the cockpit of the Zegund, Miria's eyes narrow.  A fiercely beautiful 
woman with electric green hair.

Miria:  Space is a terrible place to die, alien.

Space.  The Enterprise fires a volley of photon torpedos.  The brilliant 
jewels streak towards the attacking 'Suits - which scatter moments 
before the explosion.

Riker:  Like throwing rocks at water bugs...

Data:  I do not understand the analogy...

Picard:  Evasive!  Give us everything you've got, Mr. La Forge.  
Phasers!  Fire!

The Enterprise begins to swirl about, as phaser lance in every 
direction.  On several occassions, the beams appear very close to a 
Zentradi warrior, the contortions of which constantly remove them from 
danger.  The Zentradi return fire, though their weapons have little 
immediate impact on the Enterprise's shields.  They begin to move 
closer.  Drawing a net.

Riker:  If they close with us...

Picard:  If they close with us, we're doomed, Number One.

Enterprise main bridge.  Lynn and Kyle survey the scene.

Kyle:  Heheheh...

Lynn:  I should think matters not so funny.

Kyle:  Bitterly humourous.  The mighty humbled by the small, in turn 
humbled by the yet smaller.  Look how the computers fire at targets 
which aren't there.  Look how our death circles in on us, even as we 
circled in on the giant ships.

Lynn:  Perhaps the smaller, the better?

Kyle:  Not so simple.  Think of how ineffective these armored suits 
would be against the giants which carried them.  Equally helpless as we 
are now.  Though, perhaps not so helpless...  Can you control the phaser 
fire from this bridge.

Lynn:  I... uh, yes.  I suppose.  Manual control can be given precedence 
over single banks...

Kyle:  Do it.

Lynn:  You're going to start shooting?

Kyle:  Yes.

Enterprise battle bridge.  The crew watches with increasing trepedition 
as the Zentradi close in.  A particularly menacing BattleSuit appears on 
the foreward screen.

And is cut in half by a phaser, eventually disintegrating completely.

Riker:  Well, that's progress...

Several more Zentradi suits fall to phaser fire.

Picard:  Could our computers have learned something, I wonder?

Data:  I do not think it possible, Captain.

Riker:  It's clearly possible...

Worf:  Three attackers have been destroyed.

Data:  All in the foreward firing zones.

Picard:  A hole.  Commander Data, move us through!  Engineering!  
Evacuate!

Enterprise main bridge.

Kyle sits at a console, a sight placed over his head.  Lynn sits nearby 
him, furiously working the controls of a computer console.

Lynn:  There's a lot of damage.  Keeping an open circuit is very 
difficult.  No targets are moving into range...  Yet.  I'm scanning the 
other ships...  Oh, we're moving!

Kyle:  Through the hole!  Probably going to swing about...  No?

Lynn:  We're charging the main ship!

Kyle:  Insanity!

Lynn:  Wesley!

Kyle:  What?!

Lynn:  Wesley!  He's on that ship!  He's in trouble...

Lynn's fingers fly over her controls, and an image of the Yamato appears 
on a display near them.  The Yamato has destroyed the two Zentradi 
battle suits, but Lady Piria is another matter.

Her Mortarr Head has penetrated the shields, and has grasped onto the 
main neck of the ship like a leach.  She slashes the hull with a glowing 
energy blade.

Kyle:  Like a little ant on a large one - that thing's going to tear all 
the way through.  Kind of poetic justice...

Lynn:  Kyle!  We've got to do something!

Kyle:  What?!

Lynn:  Shoot it off!

Kyle:  We're going the wrong way!

Lynn:  Use a different bank!  Here!  Do it!

Enterprise battle bridge.

Worf:  Target vessel surface energy levels rising.

Riker:  This is going to hurt...

Picard:  Time!

Data:  Fifteen seconds to execution.

Worf:  Target vessel energy levels stabilizing.

Riker:  Shift course, random offset to ten to twenty degrees!

Worf:  Target vessel...  firing.

The screens flare white with the unleashed firepower of Azonia's 
flagship.  The Enterprise rocks fiercely.

Worf:  Shields failing...

Data:  Eleven seconds.

Picard:  Engineering!  Report!

Geordi:  Ready, Captain!

Worf:  Port-aft phaser, firing, Captain...

Picard:  What!?

Data:  Six seconds.

Worf:  Shields down.

Riker:  Why did that phaser?

Picard:  No time!  Implement!

Data:  Implementing.

Space.

The Enterprise pushes through her Zentradi attackers, streaking towards 
the flagship.  She banks.  The flagship let's fly a withering gale of 
glaring beams.  The Enterprise continues to close, her remaining 
Zentradi attackers close in pursuit.  

A single phaser shot lances from the rear section of her saucer.  It 
cuts through space.  Towards the Yamato.

The distant, shieldless Yamato.

Lady Piria and the Zegund are struck.  The range, too great - the 
Mortarr Head to potent.  The damage is slight.  But Piria is knocked 
back.  She looses her grip on the Yamato, and drifts into space.  
Shaking herself briefly, she readies for another dive.  The Yamato opens 
up, but expecting these beams - she evades them easily.

Goadingly, she allows one to strike her buckler, dissipating the energy.

Piria:  One well placed blow, alien, shall not save you from an icy 
grave.

The Enterprise, meanwhile, rotates abruptly.  Another phaser snakes 
forth.  Slicing through one of her own nacelle pylons - severing it.  
The Enterpise continues it's rotation, until it faces away from the 
flagship.  The nacelle continues in it's trajectory.  As the Enterprise 
warps away - she launches a single torpedo.

The Yamato warps.

The R'Shall warps.

Even as Piria gloats over the cowardice of her foe, the torpedo strikes 
the nacelle.  A cataclysmic explosion ensues.  Piria's mortar head 
becomes a silhouette against it's brilliance.  Milliseconds before the 
explosion engulf's it, the Zegund vanishes in a brilliant sphere of 
light.

The explosion passes.

The Zegund reappears.  All that remains of Azonia's carrier is the top 
of it's burned out hull.  The Zegund approaches.

Piria:  A well-placed time slip, Hermes...  Can you reach the fleet?

Hermes [her Fatima, remotely]:  Yes, Mistress.

Piria:  Excellent.

Another flare, and the Zegund vanishes.

Five Star Trek - 17

   Last lines - Part 16:

   Even as Piria gloats over the cowardice of her foe, the torpedo    
   strikes the nacelle.  A cataclysmic explosion ensues.  Piria's    
   mortar head becomes a silhouette against it's brilliance.  
   Milliseconds before the explosion engulf's it, the Zegund vanishes in 
   a brilliant sphere of light.

   The explosion passes.

   The Zegund reappears.  All that remains of Azonia's carrier is the 
   top of it's burned out hull.  The Zegund approaches.

   Piria:  A well-placed time slip, Hermes...  Can you reach the fleet?

   Hermes [her Fatima, remotely]:  Yes, Mistress.

   Piria:  Excellent.

   Another flare, and the Zegund vanishes.

Part 17:

Poseidal's command chamber.  The general sits on his throne, resplendent
in his satin robes of a myriad hues.  Atrophos hovers nearby, her head
slightly bowed.  Aisha approaches down the long catwalk.  The chatter of
the Grand Adas bridgecrew buzzes constantly in the background.

Poseidal:  Have the Earth forces been fully briefed?

Aisha:  They have, Great Poseidal.

Poseidal:  Their reaction to our casualty estimates?

Aisha:  Those, Great Poseidal, I did not convey.

Poseidal:  Why is that?

Aisha:  I did not feel they would take the news well.

Poseidal:  No.  Most likely, they wouldn't have believed you, anyway.  
The orbiting space station.  It has been reduced to a minimal crew?

Aisha:  The need to do so was communicated.  I do not know if they have 
acted on our suggestion.

Poseidal:  And you don't care?

Aisha:  I do not.

Poseidal rises.

Poseidal:  No.  I would not have expected you to.

Atrophos:  Captain Picard has been trying to contact you, My Lord, for 
the last week.  You have refused to talk to him.  The Enterprise has 
been in dock all that time.  You refuse to see him.  Why is that?

Poseidal:  Picard is a difficult man to talk to.

Atrophos:  It is not the man, it is what you refuse to tell him.

Poseidal:  It is more complicated than you would like it to be, dear 
Atrophos.  I cannot tell him.

Atrophos:  Explain to me why you cannot.

Aisha:  You overstep yourself, Atrophos.  Even as one of the Fates 
Fatima.

Atrophos:  I am sorry, Lady Aisha, but I do not think so.  Explain to 
me, Great Poseidal, why you cannot tell Captain Picard about the bio-
relation pool.  About our Tranference home.  About the shock it will 
deal to the world of his birth.

Poseidal:  They must fight, Atrophos.  Fight with single determination.  
We alone are a match for the Zentradi fleet, were it only ourselves we 
were fighting for.  But we are not just ourselves.  We must keep this 
world from harm. Bretai knows I mean to use the bio-relation pool to 
return to Gustogol.  He will try and destroy this world.  To damage it 
beyond a condition which may sustain the bio-relation pool.  If he 
succeeds, we will be trapped. We shall need the Federation's best
effort.

Atrophos:  They are without choice.  If they do not help us, the 
Zentradi will completely destroy this world - as they did the other two.  
If they do help us, the world will survive.  They deserve to know the
truth.

Poseidal:  Focus, Atrophos.  They must be focused.  

Atrophos:  You have never learned, Great Poseidal, to trust in the 
determination of others.  Beyond your Mirage Knights, you see only 
faceless, untrustworthy strangers.  That is a sad life.

Poseidal:  But I am Poseidal, and it is my way.

A room.  Very large.  Furnished in an obviously expensive manner.  
Ancient antiques.  Chinese antiques.  Lynn Ming, wearing a priceless 
silk gown - bold with dragons and phoenixes of gold - stretches  herself 
across a soft, bed-like couch.  Wesley stands, uneasily, by a window, 
looking out.

Lynn:  The war isn't over, is it?

Wesley:  No.

Lynn:  More death...  And you will be at your station?

Wesley:  Yes.

Lynn:  And this time, failure means the end of our world?

Wesley:  Yes.

Lynn:  It will be exciting, then, to wait down here - blind to the 
goings on in space.  Wait.  Wait for the end.  Or not the end.  And how 
will we know that it is over, and we have won?  Not until you come back.  
Just horrible waiting.  You will know, one way or the other, the instant 
the battle is won or lost.  But here, I can only wait for death; or keep 
on waiting and, not having died, still not know if soon I will die, or 
if soon, you'll come back and the war will be over.  Do you know what 
would be even worse than to die, though?  Wesley?  Worse than dying 
would be to live, and know that you have died.

Wesley:  Many things are worse than dying.  Mine.  Or... or even yours.  
Worse would be for us all to die.  For this world to become like...  
Like others.  That would be worse than 'just' dying.

Lynn:  You're right...  But I still don't want you to die.

Kyle enters.  He nods to Wesley, who nods back.

Kyle:  They're here.

Lynn sighs heavily.

Lynn:  I guess you'll have to go, now, Wesley...  It's time for my own 
little war.  Time for the lights to shine and the cameras to roll, and 
for me to relate how breatheless I was - standing on the bridge of the 
Enterprise watching the blackness of space turn to fire and light and 
death.  Good bye, Wesley.

Wesley:  Good bye.

Kyle leads Wesley out.  Lynn watches them go.  She wipes a little tear 
from under her eye, then assumes the regal manner of a princess from a 
long-lost age.

One of the Enterprise science labs.  Data stands before a projection, 
one which appears an image of Earth.  A lot of really nifty lines and 
patches of color swirl all over the place.

Data:  

Using data collected by Federation observation centers, both on the 
surface and in orbit, I have constructed the following model of the 
unusual energy fluctuations between Earth and the Grand Adas.  The color 
red indicates fields of energy, they nature of which remains a mystery 
to us. 

Upon arrival the arrival of the Grand Adas, no such fields are visible.  
You will note, however, that the Grand Adas itself begins generating 
detectable quantities within a day of arrival.  It appears to be 
transfering some manner of energy to the planet.  This transferal 
continues for several days.

[the screen displays a funnel-like projection of hazy red - almost a 
tornado - with the broad end encompassing the Grand Adas and the narrow 
point dancing about in the Earth's upper atmosphere]

Then, abruptly, the funnel reverses.  The Grand Adas appears to be 
harvesting some manner of energy from the Earth - after having seeded 
the planet with that same energy.

Picard:  Harm to the planet?

Data:  None that I can detect.  If anything, it appears to be 
stimulating the growth of micro-organisms in all of Earth's oceans.

Riker:  I doubt there are no strings attatched to this 'gift.'

Picard nods.  

Picard:  But what can we do?  Can this energy be blocked?

Data:  Difficult to say, Captain.  I do not believe we are detecting the 
actual source, but rather the symptomatic radiations.  At this time, we 
cannot block it; as to the future...

Picard:  As to the future, we may not have one.  This is a fascinating 
development, Data.  But I am afraid it must take a second seat to the 
immediate situation:  that being, the imminent arrival of a fleet bent 
on our complete desctruction.

Bretai's command chamber.

Bretai:  Exedore, what is the state of the fleet?

Exedore:  All ships, battle ready, Supreme Commander.

Bretai:  The BattleSuits and Mortarr Heads have deployed themselves 
along our hulls?

Exedore:  They have.

Bretai:  Excellent.  What of the aliens?

Exedore:  Long range intelligence indicates very few alien ships massed 
near the Grand Adas.  They appear to be preparing a perimeter defense of 
of the planet's far side.

Bretai:  Poseidal means to protect his jewel from harm.  He has 
correctly deduced he cannot achieve this goal of his own means.  It is 
unfortunate this region of space had to be occupied by an intelligent 
life form. 

Poseidal's command chamber.

A misty holograph appears before Poseidal.  The form is of a thin woman,
with large, hazy eyes.

Woman:  Fatima Bio-Web reporting.  Zentradi fleet sighted and tracked.

Poseidal:  Acknowledged.  Aisha, assemble the Mirage.

Enterprise bridge.

Worf:  Captain, long-range intelligence estimates four hours until 
contact with alien fleet.  It's composition has remained constant: three
carriers like the one encountered above Betazed.  Seven slightly 
smaller, denser vessels - battleships, perhaps.  Eighteen heavy cruisers
and twenty-one cruisers.

Riker:  I hope the Grand Adas is as potent as Poseidal says...

Picard:  So do I.  But then, what will we be leaping out of the frying 
pan into?

Data:  The fire, Captain?

Picard:  Excellent, Data.  

Worf:  Captain, a localized sub-space disturbance.  The pattern matches
that of Poseidal's "Mortarr Head".

Riker:  He's coming out to play?

Space.  High above Earth.  The Knight of Gold appears, brilliantly 
silhouetted against the blue sphere.  Lot's of nifty, anime-like close
in shots of the hands opening, the eyes gleaming, yellow flames rolling 
across the armor, etc.

Poseidal:  Greetings, Captain Picard.  So here we are, high above the 
Third World.  What is it's name?

Picard:  Earth.

Poseidal:  Here we are, high above Earth.  The Zentradi are very near.  
It is time to take your ship to the planet's far side.

Picard:  We have time.  Time for a few answers.  What...?

Poseidal:  No, Captain Picard.  There is no time.

Rapid changes of scene:

>Bretai's command chamber.
   
   Bretai:  Effect the transfer.

>Grand Adas bridge

   Aisha:  Begin initialization sequence for primary weapon.

   Crew:  Primary weapon sequence engaged.  Ez-laser turbines, currently 
          one-hundred percent.

>Space.  The Knight of Gold.

   Poseidal:  You must move your ship now, Captain.  The Zentradi mean 
   to attack immediately.

   Picard:  I don't trust you, Poseidal.

   Poseidal:  You have no choice.

>Grand Adas bridge

   Appearing Holo:  Fatima Bio-Web reporting.  Zentradi fleet has 
   pulsed bio-relation reserves.

   Aisha:  De-activate Point Defense system.

   Crew:  Point defense de-activated.  Ez-laser turbine feed-back loop 
   increased.  Turbines currently at seven-hundred percent.

>Enterprise bridge

   Data:  Captain, the Grand Adas has begun to emit considerable levels 
   of secondary radiation.  I believe I can map her interior power 
   generation architecture, now.

   Picard:  Do so.

   [A secondary screen shows a wire-frame of the Grand Adas.  A network 
   of vaguely biological shapes - almost a circulatory system - begins 
   to solidify within the wires.]

   Picard:  Capacity?

   Data:  For all intents and purposes, Captain, the Grand Adas appears 
   capable of producing power of unlimited intensity.  Our estimates  
   would be meaningless.

>Grand Adas

   Crew:  Ez-laser turbines, currently one-thousand, four-hundred 
   percent...

   Aisha:  Retract primary inhibitor.

   Crew:  Retracting.

   [Space.  The Grand Adas, floating gracefully - a beautiful, poisonous 
   fish.  At the tip, a coalescing blob of energy.]

>Enterprise bridge.

   Worf:  Captain, we have lost the alien fleet!

   Data:  Captain, the Grand Adas has currently generated and stored 
   enough power - if they wished to crack the planet, I believe the 
   could...

>The Knight of Gold

   Poseidal:  Picard, in seconds the space you are in will become a 
   maelstrom of fire and death.  Move your ship now, or you will be 
   destroyed.  Such is war.

   [The Knight of Gold begins to move through the forms of a mystic 
   kata.  A dull red glow surrounds the burnished armor.  It leaps into 
   space, answered by another bolt from the planet below.  Crystalizing 
   in the void, a glowing, red symbol.  The cross of the Knights 
   Mirage.]

>Enterprise bridge.

   Riker:  Well, Captain? 

   Picard:  Move us into position.  All possible haste.

   [Space.  The Enterprise warps away]

>Grand Adas

   Crew:  Ez-laser turbines at two-thousand, eight-hundred percent.

   Aisha:  Re-activate Point Defense.

   Crew:  Activated.

   Fatima Bio-Web:  Zentradi fleet completing transference.  Predicted 
   point of arrival margin of error - minor signifance.  Corrected 
   position, calculating...  Displayed.

   Aisha:  Re-align!

   Crew:  Ship rotating...  

   Crew:  Zentradi vessels materializing...

   Crew:  Rotation complete.  Zentradi fleet breaking up...

   Aisha:  Fire!

Five Star Trek - 18

   Last lines - Part 17:

   Crew:  Ez-laser turbines at two-thousand, eight-hundred percent.

   Aisha:  Re-activate Point Defense.

   Crew:  Activated.

   Fatima Bio-Web:  Zentradi fleet completing transference.  Predicted 
   point of arrival margin of error - minor signifance.  Corrected 
   position, calculating...  Displayed.

   Aisha:  Re-align!

   Crew:  Ship rotating...  

   Crew:  Zentradi vessels materializing...

   Crew:  Rotation complete.  Zentradi fleet breaking up...

   Aisha:  Fire!

Part 18:

>Space.  

   The Grand Adas.  An explosion of brilliant energy at it's bow.  A 
   giant fireball, from which extends are spiraling beam, of 
   intertwining, multi-colored threads.  People with active imaginations 
   would see snaking dragons, everyone else:  just fire. They streak 
   towards the Zentradi fleet, even as the Zentradi ships begin to 
   separate.  Many of the smaller vessels disintegrate despite not being 
   in the beam.  Despite their size, even the larger ships are dwarfed
   by the maelstrom, many destroyed.

>Bretai's command chamber

   Blinding light emanates from the arrayed monitors.  Debris flies 
   through the air as the ship rattles.  Even so, the powerful commander 
   keeps his composure.  He grasps a steel rail.  The rail bends under 
   it's strength.

   Bretai:  Return fire!  All ships, return fire!

   The Zentradi guns respond to the Grand Adas even as the initial blast
   subsides.  Ships on the fringe of the fleet scatter.  A cloud of 
   BattleSuits advances, lead by several human piloted Mortarr Heads, 
   including Piria and the Zegund.

>Grand Adas

   Aisha:  Zentradi status!

   Crew:  Calculating...  Two carriers...

   Crew:  Including Bretai's command vessel, three battleships...

   Crew:  Eight heavy cruisers, eleven cruisers.

   Crew:  BattleSuit count indeterminate at this time.  All known Boorey 
   Headliners accounted for and approaching.

   Aisha nods.

   Aisha:  MBring ship to full broadside.  Ready main guns.

   Crew:  Incoming fire!

>Space.

   The Zentradi guns strike home, but everywhere they hit, a disk of 
   radiant energy flares up, appearing to absorb the entire blow.  Some 
   shots hit the brilliant sails, dispersing along them - absorbed.

>Knight of Gold

   Interior.  Dark, dim.  Lavender and redish light.  Poseidal's eyes 
   are closed.  The open slowly.  His oddly colored eyes - one blue, on 
   gold - flare with inuman light.  His delicate features, too perfect 
   to be human, appear momentarily demonic.  Above, in the Head, 
   Atrophos undergoes a similar mutation.  The Knight of Gold flares to 
   life, a lightning-like bolt transforming into a wicked scythe.

   Poseidal:  Mirage Knights!  To me!

   The Knight of Gold cuts several swaths of space with it's scythe as 
   we pan back.  All around it, spheres of light expand, then contract.  
   In their place - other Mortarr Heads, including Rogner.  All wear the 
   red cross of Poseidal.

>A subterranean, super-dimensional-type bunker.  Massive steel support
columns, glittering monitors, uniformed peoples.  Lynn and Kyle, seated
at a table, look up at a monitor.

   Lynn:  It's a little less immediate, being here in this bunker and
   not in a spaceship - the threat of death...

   Kyle:  No less immediate.  The bombs that shattered the Betazed fault
   lines could easily reach us.

   Lynn:  You think some will get through?

   Kyle:  Some will get through.  And a lot depends on our alien 
   'protectors.'

   Lynn:  You don't trust them?

   Kyle:  No.

   Lynn:  It's still less immediate.  And I have faith.

   Kyle:  Faith in Star Fleet?

   Lynn:  In Star Fleet, and just in general.  

   Kyle:  What is it that you have faith will happen?

   Lynn:  I have faith that...

   Kyle:  Yes?

   Lynn:  We will win.

>Space.  High Earth Orbit.  The orbital space station is engaging them 
with it's heavier phaser weaponry.  The beams are potent enough to cut 
through the cruisers' armor.  The station, however, being stationary, 
is very vulnerable to the Zentradi heavy guns - and is suffering 
terrible punishment.

Many, many Federation ships have also engaged the Zentradi - many more 
than were at Betazed.  They keep further back this time, primarily
directing photon torpedos towards the cruisers and using phasers to 
destroy missile weapons launched at the planet.

>Bretai's command chamber.

   Exedore:  We have closed with the Grand Adas.  The Grzz and Ur have 
   likewise closed.  We are having some effect, but cannot withstand her 
   superior firepower for long.

   Bretai:  We need withstand it only for long enough...  What is the 
   condition of the planet?

   Exedore:  Our missile weapons are not getting through.  The aliens 
   are using both their ships and specialized, atmospheric defenses 
   against them.  No gamalon devices have been detonated.  Smaller 
   missiles have gotten through - no more than fifty megatons.

   Bretai:  Then we must use weapons that cannot be intercepted.  Order 
   all cruisers to fire capital guns on targets determined to be most 
   damaging to the biosphere.  Ignore alien military marks.

   Exedore:  Commander, the planet is highly industrialized.  If we 
   target major production centers...

   Bretai:  The side effects of the attack could cause even more severe 
   damage to the biosphere...  Excellent.  See that your suggestion is 
   implemented.

   Exedore:  Yes, commander.

>Space.  Close in on the Knight of Gold.  A swarm of Zentradi 
BattleSuits surround Poseidal.  By the red glint in the Knight of Gold's 
eyes, we see that this is the prefered state of affairs for both pilot 
and piloted.  Inside, Poseidal no longer appears himself.  He has almost 
completely transformed into a demonic being - raging hair, burning eyes, 
unearthly beauty.  Atrophos, too, has lost all semblance of a little 
girl.  She has become nearly indistinguishable from Poseidal.

The Knight of Gold rips into a BattleSuit with his hands.  For a moment, 
the gleaming metal is covered by gore.  Under the flames, it slowly 
disolves.  As the Zentradi crumples and vanishes, he his replaced by a 
garish Mortarr Headd.  The Knight of Gold assumes a more cautious - but 
still confident - stance.

   Poseidal:  Ah, the Lord of the Boorey.  Your creations have done 
well.  I am most impressed.  But has the master become the toy.

   Lord:  The Zentradi do as I command.

   Poseidal:  Bretai still gives you the luxury of that illusion?

   Lord:  It is no illusion.

   Poseidal:  Perhaps.  But neither am I.

The Knight of Gold hurls itself towards the Boorey knight.  A vicious 
exchange of blows takes place.  The Knight of Gold crouches, the Boorey 
rushes in.  The scythe rips upward.  The Boorey is caught.  Cleaved.

   Poseidal:  Neither am I...

>Bretai's command chamber

   Bretai:  Are we near enough?

   Exedore:  Our vessel and the Ur are in position.  Damage to the Grzz 
   has been severe enough to impede them...

   Bretai:  They must make it!

   Exedore:  By my estimation, they will be in position within three 
   minutes.

>Grand Adas.  Aisha sits in Poseidal's command chair.  The entire battle 
dances about her in brilliant, holographic detail.  Her eyes fallow the 
dazzling dance without confusion.

   Aisha [musing]:  What are you up to, Bretai?  Putting yourself so 
   close to our guns.  You can't last...

Aisha leaps up.

   Aisha:  Time slip!  Now!

   Crew:  But our bio-relation reserves...

   Aisha:  Now!

>Bretai's command chamber

   Excedore:  The Grzz has positioned itself...

   Bretai:  Status of the Gamalon devices?

   Exedore:  All four have been positioned along our primary generator 
   coils.  Timing systems fully operational.  Propulsion units, awaiting 
   pulse signal.

   Bretai:  Detonate

>Space.  The three Zentradi super-carriers surrounding the Grand Adas
explode in an infernal cataclysm.  The crest of the explosion expands
rapidly, burning through space.  The combat is engulfed.  The flames
reach into the atmosphere of Earth and scar the surface.

In a Kamikaze dive, the carriers on the planet's far side turn away from 
the federation ships and head for the planet.  They are fired on 
fiercely, but to little avail.  The crash, sending up mighty explosions 
of their own.  

And then, silence.

Enterprise bridge.  Shock.

Riker:  Is it over?  All of the aliens - including Poseidal - gone?

Picard:  That would seem awfully convenient...

Worf:  Preliminary sensor readings indicate all alien ships - gone.

Data:  The strength of the explosion was truly monumental, Captain.
Much of the matter caught within it's immediate vicinity has been
reduced to stray sub-atomic particles - many of which have decayed.
It is very difficult to estimate whether or not the remaining mass
and energy accounts for all ships present...

Worf:  Energy fluctuations being detected.  High Earth Orbit.

Picard:  Yes.  That's more like it...

Riker:  Some kind of trick?

Picard:  Who knows?  How severe was the planetary impact?

Data:  Very severe, Captain.  No casualty estimates at this time.

Worf:  Small craft appearing.  The Mortarr Heads, Captain.

Picard:  Poseidal?

Worf:  One matches the characteristics of Poseidal's golden knight.

Riker:  Some form of teleportation?

Data:  More likely, a temporal displacement.

Picard:  And the Grand Adas?

Data:  Controled temporal displacements require nearly immeasurable 
supplies of energy.  Perhaps the Grand Adas has generated sufficient 
energy to both power it's giant canon and perform some manner of 
temmporal displacement - but I am doubtful.  

Riker:  But the Mortarr Heads?

Data:  Smaller masses require less energy, but I again it seems unlikely 
the known power generations capabilities of those craft could support 
such an operation.

Picard:  Yet they did.

Data:  So it would appear.

Picard:  And so could the Grand Adas...

Worf:  Much larger energy fluctuations appearing, Captain...

Riker:  Right on cue.

Worf:  The Grand Adas.  Poseidal is hailing us.

Picard:  Onscreen.

Poseidal:  Well, Captain Picard - and people of Earth - the battle is 
done.  

Picard:  Is it?

Poseidal does not get to answer.  A blinding flash fills the interior of 
the Knight of Gold's control chamber.  Cut back to space.  A white 
fireball fades, in it's place - a gleaming white Mortarr Head.  Whiter 
than arctic snow, glowing with it's own light.

The Junchoon.  Piloted by Atrophos sister, Clotho.

Clotho:  It is done, Great Poseidal.  You shall not have this world.  As 
Fates Fatima Clotho, bond-mate of Colus III and headliner of the 
Junchoon, I challenge you, Great Poseidal.  By our Code, you must 
accept.

The remaining mirage knights circle about the newcomer and their leader.  
Rogner moves forward.

Rogner:  No, Clotho.  You are not a headliner.  You cannot claim the 
Code.

Clotho:  I am Fates Fatima Clotho.  I claim the rights of a headliner.

Rogner:  Even as one of the Fates Fatima, you do not have the right.  
And even as Headliner, only a King of Queen may challenge Poseidal 
directly.  Before your challenge, you must first fight the Mirage.  And 
you cannot win, Clotho.  Even you.

Clotho:  No?

Aisha [remotely]:  No, Clotho.  Even the Sleeping Witch cannot stand 
against all of the Mirage.  But there is another way.  I am a Queen.  
And I am Regent - by appointment of Poseidal himself - to the world of 
Colus.  I have no heir, and as is might right, I give that title to you.

Mirage Knight:  Preposterous!

Aisha:  It is my right, and as Mirage Knight One, none may challenge it 
save Poseidal himself.  What say Poseidal?

Long silence.

Poseidal:  Captain Picard?

Picard [remotely]:  Yes?

Poseidal:  Captain Picard, could you transport my Fatima to your ship 
using that strange device of yours.

Picard:  Not through your the energy fluctuations you are currently 
generating.

Poseidal:  I shall cease generating them.  But Captain, no tricks.  
Things should go very badly for you were you to try and trick me.

Atrophos:  My Lord!  There is no need!  I will not dishonor you.  You 
have my allegiance, unquestioned and undying...

Poseidal:  I cannot ask you to kill your own sister, dear Atrophos...  
Are you ready, Captain?

Picard:  Yes.

Poseidal:  Do so.

Atrophos is beamed abaord the Enterprise.  We follow her.  She appears 
on the platform and is met by a group of security officers.  She rushes 
from the platform into the corridor.  They rush after her, eventually 
catching up.  They redirect her frantic pace towards the bridge.

As soon as the turbo-lift doors open, she rushes in - catching Picard 
half-rising from his chair.  On screen, the Junchoon and the Knight of 
Gold face each other tensely.  The Mirage Knights have backed away.

Atrophos freezes.  For several moments, she is silent.

The makes a small laugh.

Atrophos:  I have lived many thousands of years, Captain.  Served many 
Lords before Poseidal.  Helped raise their children.  Teach them the 
ways of a headliner.  Do you know what one of the arguments young 
children in our aristocratic houses often have?  Of course not.  How 
could you...  They argument about who would win:  the Sleeping Witch in 
the Junchoon, or Great Poseidal in the Knight of Gold.  They get very 
excited about it, children do.  And it used to be so silly.  Everyone 
knew the Sleeping Witch wouldn't awaken...

Onscreen, the Clotho launches herself at Poseidal.  Atrophos continues 
talking, as if nothing were happening.  She is trying to put the battle 
out of her mind.

Atrophos: ...Everyone knew that Great Poseidal and the Knight of Gold 
couldn't be defeated.

Picard:  Why are they fighting?

Atrophos:  Clotho means to save your world, Captain.  She believes she 
was created to stop Poseidal.

Data:  The same creators as the Zentradi?

Atrophos:  Oh, no.  But I suppose, the purpose is the same.  An 
artificial being meant to stop Poseidal.  

Picard:  Can she?

Atrophos:  I don't know.

Picard:  Save our world?  Save it from what?

Atrophos:  To return to our home, Poseidal must generate an awesome 
amount of bio-relation energy.  To do this, he needs a world with a very 
advanced biosphere and some special harmony with the bio-relation pool.  
Such worlds are very, very rare, Captain.  Poseidal's homeworld - 
Gustogol - was, and is, the most harmonic of worlds that has ever been 
found.  But these world of yours - it will do.

Riker:  Do?

Atrophos:  Yes.  It can generate the requisite energy.  Very few can 
control such power.  Perhaps only Poseidal and Clotho.  Lachesis could, 
but she is gone...  Perhaps I could - but I would never try.  There are 
no others.

Riker:  And after the energy was generated?

Atrophos:  Much of it would be consumed powering the Transference 
between galaxies.  The resulting shock would devastate your world.  It 
would not be destroyed - not like the worlds attacked by the Zentradi - 
but the shock would kill many, many beings.  Clotho means to prevent 
that.

Worf:  Perhaps we should help her.

Atrophos:  That would not be wise.  The Mirage Knights would destroy 
your world as surely as the Zentradi in retribution.

Picard:  Well, at least we can root her on...

Onscreen, the battle continues.  Atrophos sinks into herself, not 
watching.

Atrophos [silent thoughts]:  Oh, Sister!  Can you hear me?  Lachesis!  
Please, you must help me!  What am I to do?  

A vision appears on the screen.  It is obvious only Atrophos sees it.  
It is of a beautiful woman.  Tall and regal.  Her hair is long and 
lavender, like Poseidal.  Her eyes, like his, are one gold, one blue.  A 
diadem hangs on her forhead.

Atrophos:  Lachesis!  You heard!

Lachesis:  Of course, dearest sister.  Of course.

Atrophos:  I'm so afraid...

Lachesis:  I understand, dear sister.  But I cannot give you the answer.

Atrophos:  You must!  Oh, Lachesis, please!  Please help me!

Lachesis:  You, too, are of the Fates Fatima, Atrophos.  You, too, have 
the answers.  You need only look.  Look, dear sister, and you shall find 
the truth of what you must do.

Atrophos is silent for a long while.  The image of Lachesis fades.  
Behind, the battle rages.  The Knight of Gold crouches, the Junchoon 
holds a more aggressive stance.  Slowly, the Knight of Gold extends an 
arm, opening the fingers.  The scyth slowly disolves.  

The Junchoon charges.

Atrophos [crying]:  I see...

The Knight of Gold reaches up with it's hand.

Atrophos [crying harder]:  I see!  I see!

The Junchoon brings it's sword down, aiming for the Knight of Gold's 
head.  The Knight of Gold reaches up with it's hand, grabbing one of the 
Junchoon's arms.  The force of momentum carries the Knight of Gold 
throw, tearing the arm from it's socket.  The Junchoon keeps hold of 
it's sword, but tumbles away, end over end.  Far below, the blue eye of 
Earth watches impassively.

The Knight of Gold releases the arm.  Slowly, the scythe reappears.

Atrophos [whisper]:  Knight of Gold...

The Knight of Gold turns towards the still tumbling Junchoon.

Atrophos [whisper]:  Knight of Gold, it's Atrophos...

The Junchoon stops tumbling.  It rights itself and readies it's glowing 
sword.  The Knight of Gold slowly advances.

Atrophos:  Knight of Gold, hear me.  Please.  Hear me.  This is what we 
must do...

The Knight of Gold raises the scythe high.  The Junchoon crouches this 
time, blade held low.  The Knight of Gold starts to bring the sythe 
down, then stops...

Inside, Poseidal appears shocked.  Then, a gentle smile.

Poseidal:  Atrophos...  Dear Atrophos, at last, you do as you were made 
to do...

The Junchoon lurches upward, it's blade cutting deep into the Knight of 
Gold.  There is an explosion of pale flames - and then nothing.  The 
Knight of Gold is gone.  Poseidal is gone.  

On the Enterprise bridge, Atrophos collapses in exhaustion.

Atrophos [telepathic]:  Sister, this is what you must do.

For several moments, the Mirage stand in shock.  Rogner steps forward.  
He salutes Clotho.  The others follow suit.  The Mirage vanish, 
teleporting back into the Grand Adas.

The Enterprise crew tries to revive Atrophos, but she does not respond.  
As they do so, the screen is washed by a brilliant flash.

Worf:  Captain, the Grand Adas is gone.

Picard:  The Earth!  The Earth!  Damage?

Data:  No apparent trama to the planet...

Atrophos:  She did not move the ship through space, Captain.  Only time.

Picard:  I don't understand.

Atrophos:  It is rare for a world to possess the ability to support the 
bio-relation pool.  But possessing it, it must be realized the 
possession occurs for all time, so long as the world supports life.

Picard:  They've gone to rob some future Earth?

Atrophos:  Not rob.  And not future.  They have gone into the past.  
Many millions of years.  Their future, your present.  All in the past.

Riker:  What?

Picard:  Millions of years?  The mass extinctions...?

Riker:  Of the dinosaurs?

Atrophos:  Millions of years.  Your past.  Their future.  And your 
present, too, Captain.  Your present, too.

Picard:  And what of you?

Atrophos:  I shall stay here, with the ghost of my lord.

Space.

The blue Earth.  We pull slowly away.  The sun dawns over a horizon.  We 
continue to pull away.  The sun separates - becomes a distinct sphere of 
it's own.  Further and further apart.

One blue orb, one golden.

The faint outline of Poseidal, his eyes.

His laughter.

The End