Post by Fiona McFly on Dec 7, 2021 3:58:08 GMT
Chapter 9.5
“RAGNAROK”
~Somewhere in the far reaches of space…~
An escape pod is seen floating throughout the void, throughout the coldest regions of what could be considered a major thoroughfare -- like an interstate highway, but on a much more massive scale. For all of its promises of wonder through exploration, space was still a mystery -- rife with dangers, darkness, and silence.
One of the many dangers that lurked in the stars was space debris, junk that was lying in wait to damage an unsuspecting small craft or freighter that rammed into it. As the pod passed by a large chuck of metallic rock, we see lettering on the side that reads “U.S.S. APACHE -- NCC-1831.” Then, as if without warning, the small bubble floated towards a larger ship; this ship had a black titanium hull and looked to be much, much bigger than any cruise ship in the 21st century world.
She had thirteen decks and a maximum crew complement of around 850 people, but unlike most vessels of the line, this one was unique in that it could, in theory, run with less than a skeleton crew -- one if necessary. Also, unlike most Federation sarships that focused primarily on scientific research or other general duties, this ship was designed for one purpose alone, military combat.
A blue beam of light engulfed the escape pod like a grappling hook, slowly pulling it towards a hangar bay on deck 13. Alarms and buzzers sounded as the bubble was gently placed on the bay’s floor. A human, sporting stripes indicative of the rank of junior grade lieutenant, strolled up to the pod and opened its main door.
Thomas R. Hargrove, the one who Fiona had accidentally locked inside the pod, awakened from a long slumber and opened his eyes.
CREW MEMBER:
Are you okay, sir? C’mon, lemme get outta there...
The crewman extended his hand, and Hargrove was immediately pulled out of his chair. He gasped as he looked around, catching sight of a large figure standing next to the junior officer.
HARGROVE:
Wh-wh...where am I…?! And who are you?!
LIEUTENANT CECIL BARON:
I’m Lieutenant Cecil Baron, sir, Assistant to the Chief of Security of this vessel, Commander Yat’Son.
Hargrove gave Yat’Son a curious expression as he gazed at his little horns and purple-colored skin. The latter was an ex-Jem’Hadar officer who wound up in Starfleet as part of a new program constituted between the Dominion and the Federation after the signing of the Treaty of Bajor. He was a sizable fellow, around seven feet and close to 325 pounds, and he also had a very short temperament.
HARGROVE:
Commander…Jetson?!
The brutish hulk snapped, clearly offended by the innocuous joke.
COMMANDER YAT’SON:
I will personally rip your tongue out and break you, Human!
Yet as Yat’Son was about to wring Hargrove’s neck, Admiral Beckham strolled out of the second turbolift. She doesn’t appear to be in a pleasant mood after listening to ship reports all day long -- not to mention, a chance meeting with one Fiona McFly that seemed to put her mind in a tense state.
ADMIRAL BECKHAM:
You will do no such thing, Commander…
She strolled up, flanked by Captain Robert Fauci Cosell. He was an older gentleman in his early 60s, a bald and unassuming individual hiding a grizzled personality.
ADMIRAL BECKHAM:
Need I remind you that this is not a Dominion ship…?
COMMANDER YAT’SON:
My sincere apologies, Admiral. It will not happen again.
ADMIRAL BECKHAM:
See that it doesn’t, or I...will...break…you...right back to the Academy!
Yat’Son relented, allowing his subordinate to chime in.
LIEUTENANT BARON:
With your permission, Admiral, I’d like to make the formal introductions.
ADMIRAL BECKHAM:
By all means…
LIEUTENANT BARON:
This is Vice Admiral Evelyn Beckham, Assistant to the C-in-C of Earth Spacedock. Next to her is Captain Robert Fauci Cosell, commanding officer of this ship.
The captain nodded before speaking with a distinctive Bronx inflection. He was a “by-the-book” type of officer, a gruff and seasoned veteran of several previous conflicts including the Iconian War.
CAPTAIN ROBERT COSELL:
You’re now aboard the U.S.S. Ragnarok, in the year 2412. We picked up your escape pod and brought you to our main hangar.
Hargrove looked around the large room, awestruck by its militaristic colour scheme, surfaces that shimmered as if they were freshly cleaned, and he even complimented the simplicity of the crew’s all-black attire.
HARGROVE:
No wonder why everything looks so nice and tidy, especially the uniforms. Admittedly, I’m just grateful to be out of that damned thing.
Cosell cleared his throat and gave off a distinctive one-eyed scowl.
CAPTAIN COSELL:
You may dispense with the Rip Van Winkle routine, we’ve work to do. Commander Yat’Son?
The hulking security officer stepped forward, his subordinate close behind.
COMMANDER YAT’SON:
Yes, Captain?
CAPTAIN COSELL:
I would like for you and Lieutenant Baron to coordinate an acclimation and training program for our guest. Help him blend into his surroundings. The more he understands us and our protocols, the better he'll fit in.
Yat’Son, feeling wary of Hargrove’s presence, was less than enthused about the order, but Baron was more than happy to volunteer.
LIEUTENANT BARON:
Receiving, sir! Right this way, Mister…
Hargrove chimed in, informally introducing himself to his new hosts.
HARGROVE:
Hargrove. Thomas Riker Hargrove, formerly of the British Royal Navy.
LIEUTENANT BARON:
Interesting, can’t wait to listen to your full story sometime. For now, we’ll get you all squared away and show you to your quarters.
Yat’sun growled, his dislike for the new passenger clearly evident as he and Cecil whisked Hargrove out of the main hangar through a pair of large silver hatches. Captain Cosell and Admiral Beckham watched as the trio departed, but just as the former was about to take her leave...
CAPTAIN COSELL:
Admiral, may I have a word?
...she went back to the captain, where the two had a private conference. At that moment, the Admiral opened up a small box that she had been carrying, revealing what appeared to be a shining gemstone that seemed to glow a warm, comfortable orange hue.
CAPTAIN COSELL:
Was it really worthwhile to have the Apache destroyed? Just for a lump of rock?!
ADMIRAL BECKHAM:
A necessary sacrifice…and need I remind you that this mythril -- this "lump of rock" is a very unique treasure. One that will help us develop new forms of armour and construct new fleets of starships.
CAPTAIN COSELL:
With all due respect Evelyn, I don’t find wiping out an Intrepid-class science vessel with over 120 crew and souls on board to be necessary. Besides that, it'll take years before we can fully understand the properties of this mythril enough to warrant a full-scale field test.
“RAGNAROK”
~Somewhere in the far reaches of space…~
An escape pod is seen floating throughout the void, throughout the coldest regions of what could be considered a major thoroughfare -- like an interstate highway, but on a much more massive scale. For all of its promises of wonder through exploration, space was still a mystery -- rife with dangers, darkness, and silence.
One of the many dangers that lurked in the stars was space debris, junk that was lying in wait to damage an unsuspecting small craft or freighter that rammed into it. As the pod passed by a large chuck of metallic rock, we see lettering on the side that reads “U.S.S. APACHE -- NCC-1831.” Then, as if without warning, the small bubble floated towards a larger ship; this ship had a black titanium hull and looked to be much, much bigger than any cruise ship in the 21st century world.
She had thirteen decks and a maximum crew complement of around 850 people, but unlike most vessels of the line, this one was unique in that it could, in theory, run with less than a skeleton crew -- one if necessary. Also, unlike most Federation sarships that focused primarily on scientific research or other general duties, this ship was designed for one purpose alone, military combat.
A blue beam of light engulfed the escape pod like a grappling hook, slowly pulling it towards a hangar bay on deck 13. Alarms and buzzers sounded as the bubble was gently placed on the bay’s floor. A human, sporting stripes indicative of the rank of junior grade lieutenant, strolled up to the pod and opened its main door.
Thomas R. Hargrove, the one who Fiona had accidentally locked inside the pod, awakened from a long slumber and opened his eyes.
CREW MEMBER:
Are you okay, sir? C’mon, lemme get outta there...
The crewman extended his hand, and Hargrove was immediately pulled out of his chair. He gasped as he looked around, catching sight of a large figure standing next to the junior officer.
HARGROVE:
Wh-wh...where am I…?! And who are you?!
LIEUTENANT CECIL BARON:
I’m Lieutenant Cecil Baron, sir, Assistant to the Chief of Security of this vessel, Commander Yat’Son.
Hargrove gave Yat’Son a curious expression as he gazed at his little horns and purple-colored skin. The latter was an ex-Jem’Hadar officer who wound up in Starfleet as part of a new program constituted between the Dominion and the Federation after the signing of the Treaty of Bajor. He was a sizable fellow, around seven feet and close to 325 pounds, and he also had a very short temperament.
HARGROVE:
Commander…Jetson?!
The brutish hulk snapped, clearly offended by the innocuous joke.
COMMANDER YAT’SON:
I will personally rip your tongue out and break you, Human!
Yet as Yat’Son was about to wring Hargrove’s neck, Admiral Beckham strolled out of the second turbolift. She doesn’t appear to be in a pleasant mood after listening to ship reports all day long -- not to mention, a chance meeting with one Fiona McFly that seemed to put her mind in a tense state.
ADMIRAL BECKHAM:
You will do no such thing, Commander…
She strolled up, flanked by Captain Robert Fauci Cosell. He was an older gentleman in his early 60s, a bald and unassuming individual hiding a grizzled personality.
ADMIRAL BECKHAM:
Need I remind you that this is not a Dominion ship…?
COMMANDER YAT’SON:
My sincere apologies, Admiral. It will not happen again.
ADMIRAL BECKHAM:
See that it doesn’t, or I...will...break…you...right back to the Academy!
Yat’Son relented, allowing his subordinate to chime in.
LIEUTENANT BARON:
With your permission, Admiral, I’d like to make the formal introductions.
ADMIRAL BECKHAM:
By all means…
LIEUTENANT BARON:
This is Vice Admiral Evelyn Beckham, Assistant to the C-in-C of Earth Spacedock. Next to her is Captain Robert Fauci Cosell, commanding officer of this ship.
The captain nodded before speaking with a distinctive Bronx inflection. He was a “by-the-book” type of officer, a gruff and seasoned veteran of several previous conflicts including the Iconian War.
CAPTAIN ROBERT COSELL:
You’re now aboard the U.S.S. Ragnarok, in the year 2412. We picked up your escape pod and brought you to our main hangar.
Hargrove looked around the large room, awestruck by its militaristic colour scheme, surfaces that shimmered as if they were freshly cleaned, and he even complimented the simplicity of the crew’s all-black attire.
HARGROVE:
No wonder why everything looks so nice and tidy, especially the uniforms. Admittedly, I’m just grateful to be out of that damned thing.
Cosell cleared his throat and gave off a distinctive one-eyed scowl.
CAPTAIN COSELL:
You may dispense with the Rip Van Winkle routine, we’ve work to do. Commander Yat’Son?
The hulking security officer stepped forward, his subordinate close behind.
COMMANDER YAT’SON:
Yes, Captain?
CAPTAIN COSELL:
I would like for you and Lieutenant Baron to coordinate an acclimation and training program for our guest. Help him blend into his surroundings. The more he understands us and our protocols, the better he'll fit in.
Yat’Son, feeling wary of Hargrove’s presence, was less than enthused about the order, but Baron was more than happy to volunteer.
LIEUTENANT BARON:
Receiving, sir! Right this way, Mister…
Hargrove chimed in, informally introducing himself to his new hosts.
HARGROVE:
Hargrove. Thomas Riker Hargrove, formerly of the British Royal Navy.
LIEUTENANT BARON:
Interesting, can’t wait to listen to your full story sometime. For now, we’ll get you all squared away and show you to your quarters.
Yat’sun growled, his dislike for the new passenger clearly evident as he and Cecil whisked Hargrove out of the main hangar through a pair of large silver hatches. Captain Cosell and Admiral Beckham watched as the trio departed, but just as the former was about to take her leave...
CAPTAIN COSELL:
Admiral, may I have a word?
...she went back to the captain, where the two had a private conference. At that moment, the Admiral opened up a small box that she had been carrying, revealing what appeared to be a shining gemstone that seemed to glow a warm, comfortable orange hue.
CAPTAIN COSELL:
Was it really worthwhile to have the Apache destroyed? Just for a lump of rock?!
ADMIRAL BECKHAM:
A necessary sacrifice…and need I remind you that this mythril -- this "lump of rock" is a very unique treasure. One that will help us develop new forms of armour and construct new fleets of starships.
CAPTAIN COSELL:
With all due respect Evelyn, I don’t find wiping out an Intrepid-class science vessel with over 120 crew and souls on board to be necessary. Besides that, it'll take years before we can fully understand the properties of this mythril enough to warrant a full-scale field test.
He paused.
CAPTAIN COSELL:
Oh, and what about the civvie in the Royal Navy costume...
Cosell continued his protest as Beckham cleared his throat, clearly annoyed that he would refer to her by her first name.
ADMIRAL BECKHAM:
You will treat our passenger as an honoured guest and see to his every need.
CAPTAIN COSELL:
What’s so special about him, anyway? He’s just another stranded human wearing an old naval--
At that moment, Cosell was cut off by an unseen telepathic force that seemingly began to choke him. He placed his hands around his neck as he staggered, feeling a distinctive rumble pulsate through his body as an otherworldly voice began to intone.
“I find your lack of enthusiasm and obedience to be quite…disturbing. Perhaps an attitude adjustment is in order…”
The voice did, indeed, sound like an alter-ego of Admiral Beckham -- it felt more distorted, more terse and unholy than her normal sultry demeanour. Cosell began to feel himself being pulled to the deck on one knee...
”Yes...bend the knee…”
...and then, his visage began to glow a pale white. The choking subsided long enough to get the response Evelyn had wanted.
CAPTAIN COSELL:
Forever, my lady…
Suddenly, the choking ceased, the rumbling stopped, and Cosell was back on his feet -- albeit shaken to the core. The admiral smirked from ear to ear before maintaining her “persuasive” nature.
ADMIRAL BECKHAM:
Now...will you see to the needs of our guest? Or do I need to resort to more…extreme...measures?!
The captain responded timidly, unwilling to incur the wrath of Beckham’s demonic consciousness.
CAPTAIN COSELL:
Yes, Admiral.
A beleaguered Cosell watched as Evelyn sauntered off towards a waiting turbolift. He shook his head and sighed, resigned to the fact that despite all misgivings, he had a role to play.
CAPTAIN COSELL:
What the hell is so special about this Hargrove fellow...
~TO BE CONTINUED~
Cosell continued his protest as Beckham cleared his throat, clearly annoyed that he would refer to her by her first name.
ADMIRAL BECKHAM:
You will treat our passenger as an honoured guest and see to his every need.
CAPTAIN COSELL:
What’s so special about him, anyway? He’s just another stranded human wearing an old naval--
At that moment, Cosell was cut off by an unseen telepathic force that seemingly began to choke him. He placed his hands around his neck as he staggered, feeling a distinctive rumble pulsate through his body as an otherworldly voice began to intone.
“I find your lack of enthusiasm and obedience to be quite…disturbing. Perhaps an attitude adjustment is in order…”
The voice did, indeed, sound like an alter-ego of Admiral Beckham -- it felt more distorted, more terse and unholy than her normal sultry demeanour. Cosell began to feel himself being pulled to the deck on one knee...
”Yes...bend the knee…”
...and then, his visage began to glow a pale white. The choking subsided long enough to get the response Evelyn had wanted.
CAPTAIN COSELL:
Forever, my lady…
Suddenly, the choking ceased, the rumbling stopped, and Cosell was back on his feet -- albeit shaken to the core. The admiral smirked from ear to ear before maintaining her “persuasive” nature.
ADMIRAL BECKHAM:
Now...will you see to the needs of our guest? Or do I need to resort to more…extreme...measures?!
The captain responded timidly, unwilling to incur the wrath of Beckham’s demonic consciousness.
CAPTAIN COSELL:
Yes, Admiral.
A beleaguered Cosell watched as Evelyn sauntered off towards a waiting turbolift. He shook his head and sighed, resigned to the fact that despite all misgivings, he had a role to play.
CAPTAIN COSELL:
What the hell is so special about this Hargrove fellow...
~TO BE CONTINUED~