NEW Sci-Fi Novel
ORIGINAL Non Series Based STAR TREK fan fiction.
The Station and the Patrol
An article ABOUT, TO and FOR the IFT Council
SPECIAL REPORT Homeless Shelter Food Drive! "Another Can of BEANS!"
USS RAVEN (IFT) newsletter articles-
The Editor REJECTED the Desk's look at Inconsistency.
SEPTEMBER- How to Explain the RAVEN to Everybody Else.
August- RUMOR CONTROL The Desk Denies Everything It Can!
JUNE- The Desk says Goodbye Man that Killed a Spider.
The MAY Newsletter Submission The Mission of Science Fiction
April Submission 'Screaming'
Big Ted and Gene's Dream Star Trek and War.
They're Here... again The Desk looks at what might happen when the Space Aliens land!
The Desk had to update its Profile
Questions about many things TREK answered.
When News Ain't News!
The Fictional History of the USS RAVEN (IFT). The International Federation of Trekkers
"Attention all beings. This Court of Inquiry is now in Session. Admiral Mo-Wan Presiding. The Case of the United Federation of Planets, Star Fleet Command, will be brought against the Captain and Senior Officers of the USS Raven. Captain Lukas will stand for the defendants."
"Hey. We're alive."
"Damage report." Lukas said picking himself up off the floor under the helm.
"Almost everything." Somebody answered.
"Engineering to bridge. We've got a mess down here."
"That's not a very official term Mr. Barnhart." Ryan said trying to focus his eyes.
"Take Rav'n and hold. They pay."
The aid squinted his good eye at his master. "It be a Fed'ration Starsh'p no'atter wot else it is."
"And it'a has been hit but goodways. I say we takeit. F'rengi would pay, Dom'm'n would pay. I hades even the curs'd Fed'ration might'd pay for it'em."
The aid relaxed his squint but didn't answer...
Silence reigned in the room for a minute.
The RAVEN's communication chief broke it. "So you want us, either as a single unit or in smaller parties of our choice, and on vessels of our own choosing, to think and act as the Borg... or Borg operatives... then to infiltrate any one of half a dozen of the largest and most secure Star Fleet bases and stations, plant actual physical evidence of our having made it inside, then to approach the base commander with your data pad and blow the whistle on ourselves and be arrested until they contact you?"
Admiral Rickett pursed his lips and nodded gravely. "Essentially. Yes."
Silence reigned in the room for a minute.
Somebody broke it.
Lukas was trying to raise the ship on the communicator when the attackers let loose the second blast.
And the RAVEN vanished.
"Whoa." Kada said and forced the shuttle back down into the clouds.
"What. Happened. To. My. Ship?" Lukas said with wide eyes.
"It didn't explode. ... I don't know." Kada said as he wheeled the shuttle around and dove planetward to buy time to think.
"We've got to get out of here, call in backup. Do a search." Lukas said.
"I'm glad I caught up with you." Mr. Dubin said from a small skimmer.
Kada looked around and tossed the bag onto the skimmer's deck then he climbed in, still holding the rifle at the ready. "So am I, I was getting tired of walking."
"You haven't heard?"
Something in Dubin's voice got Kada's attention. "Evidently not."
"There's been a mutiny or mass desertion or something."
Kada looked behind them in case some of Hharstonn's friends were following. "Mutiny where?"
"On the RAVEN."
Kada's hand flexed involuntarily, the glowing weapon discharged a large bolt of blindingly bright fire that screamed into the air and exploded a few dozen meters over the skimmer.
Mysteriously the few other vehicles and individuals that had been on the cluttered roadway in front of them found somewhere else to go. Quickly.
"Sir... The sphere started to hail us, then left the channel open, and forgot about it. Here."
The screen changed to the open channel to the Borg. Instead of the glaring faces of several drones, it showed some drones milling about, others were shadow boxing, for lack of a better term. Still others were standing still, staring off into space.
"What's wrong with that picture?" The Captain asked.
"Apples…. tribble. AAAAhhhhhhhh." Lukas's hands were shaking. His mind knew what he wanted to do, but he couldn't make his body do it. He wanted to act, to move, to command, but all that came out was nonsense and meaningless gestures. "… GreenTree! … marbles "
"Wrizztmain Attitude contrrrllllst fail ure auxilscht-rly…" Once in awhile the computer would announce something about half speaking half the words it had been programmed to say, interrupted by static and noise.
The helm officer had been flying, and firing, blindly for hours. He had to get away from that nightmare behind them that had put them here, to attack it, to … anything… to make it stop chasing them.
Commander Rowell writhed on the floor. Locked in a state somewhere between consciousness and death.
"Nomanch." Dubin screamed and tried to drag himself across engineering. His legs were limp and lifeless under him. "GrukloITCHtop! " Chief Barnhardt understood something was wrong with the panel, but his brain wasn't working right. Instinct told him the red lights weren't a good thing, but he couldn't come up with what to do about it. He tried to move his hand to push a button under a light, but his fingers wouldn't go the right way, thumping uselessly against the panel. More red lights appeared.
Commander Rhoades ran up one corridor and down another. From turbolift to Jefferies tube. Then back across another deck. She was looking for something. Or she thought she was. The lift arrived at another deck. She took off down the corridor.
Ensign Hackett sat in the weapons pod surrounded by tools. They looked oddly familiar, and he knew he should recognize them.
Ziggy had beaten his hands bloody trying to get out of his quarters. The phaser he had in his room wasn't working, the computer didn't respond, all trying to hotwire the door had done was turn his room lights out.
More red lights. More warning sirens.
"Warnbngs… expl osive decom prbist sion… deck…. chruuumstsph… overloa…"
...what she told me was so outrageous, so unexpected, I laughed...NOTE: This is a NON-SERIES-BASED Short Story. For more Star Trek Fan Fiction by the Desk see:
"The Borg need your assistance to prepare us to assimilate the Q Continuum..."
Dear Diary the Borg story
The Good OLD Ship JUPITOR a short story
[These stories carries the copyright of The Media Desk, 2000, and the USS RAVEN (IFT). Author retains all rights, including the right of approval for publication. STAR TREK, and all images and situations affiliated with STAR TREK are owned and copyrighted by PARAMOUNT STUDIOS. They are used in this story without intent to harm or otherwise defame PARAMOUNT or the estate of Gene Roddenberry. The Media Desk is not in any way affiliated with PARAMOUNT. For information contact Levite. Email- drleftover[AT]hotmail[DOT]com (put the word RAVEN in subject line due to SPAM), or surface mail to: The Media Desk, PO Box 1276, Dover, DE 19903]