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STAR TREK: HUMAN SO FAR

=/\= Link established to the United Federation of Planets Galactic Memory Banks =/\=
STAR TREK: HUMAN SO FAR
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
CHARACTERS:
======================================
Bryce wrote:
I'd be on the Enterprise working in the interstellar medium
astrophysics
lab, mapping interstellar gas and dust.
Most of the other young officers around me came out of 
Starfleet
Academy, but I grew up on some distant planet and
never had a chance
to attend.  I was selected as an officer
in Starfleet anyway because of my
talents, but most of the
other officers hold it against me that I didn't follow
the
same
route that they did, and so I am somewhat ostracized.
I lost my entire family when I was 16 when aliens attacked
our outpost and 
>everything was destroyed, surviving only because I had been
out stargazing 
>by myself at the time.  I'm drawn to Starfleet because it
is the best 
>opportunity to do the kind of research that matches my talent,
but the the 
>trauma earlier in my life has left me absolutely terrified
of danger and 
>conflict, and even more hesitant to reach out and make friends
or fall in 
>love.  In fact, I have sort of a psychological hangup that
the only reason 
>I'm alive is because of my love for astronomy, and so that's
all I should 
>ever do.  Anyone or anything that takes me away from my work
seems 
>"dangerous", but I still feel lonely.  That is
my character flaw.  My 
>greatest strength is a tremendous power of concentration,
so that when the 
>time comes for me to "do my thing" (even though
it might not seem so 
>glamorous), I will overcome everything.  Maybe that can come
in handy later 
>when my skills are needed to avert or solve some disaster.
 But as yet that 
>hasn't happened, so I am still almost invisible to most of
the crew. In 
>fact, even though this is the 23rd century, I imagine being
>a bit imtimidated by some of the other officers, especially
the security 
>guys.
>
>I'll choose the name Shaun Evans for my character, as I've
always thought 
>that is a sexy name.  My family roots will be from what used
to be USA.  
>That might
>provide some interesting conversation with the Marine, because
to him I'm 
>"American", but because I grew up on a distant
outpost, I have no 
>nationalistic pride
>like he would.
>
>Maarten wrote:
>Lt. Sorahl, Engineering, Damage Control.
>
>Full name is Sorahl, Son of Sereth, Son of Sirat. His mother's
name is 
>T'Rahl so an overly precise Vulcan (if something like that
exists) could
>call him Sorahl ch'Sereth ch'Sirat hei'T'rahl. For StarFleet-purposes,
he 
>uses just Lt. Sorahl.
>
>Sorahl is at present 41 years old and so still very young
for a Vulcan. He 
>spent the first 33 years of his life in the T'Ling'Shahr
monastery, being 
>raised completely without emotion. At 33, he decided that
even logic has 
>its limits, a rare viewpoint for a young Vulcan, and left.
StarFleet 
>offered a good opportunity to learn lots of diverse things.
>He went through the Academy reasonably quickly and without
making any 
>friends whatsoever. It was only after serving on board a
starship that he 
>came to appreciate, albeit in small amounts, the complexities
of humanoid 
>emotion.
>First starship: USS Lailara (Vulcan for night, btw) and then
the 
>Enterprise-D. Sorahl works for Engineering as a general technician
but 
>specialises in (emergency) damage control. Sorahl has no
personal 
>attachments on board, nor anywhere else. He does keep a cat,
though.
>
>Ronald wrote:
>Dear colleges in roll play, thanks for the invitation and
I am looking 
>forward to correspond in a Star track way with you all, not
that I have any
>experience but I have to improve my English if I whant an
international 
>career.
>
>Character name: Mark Foster, C.T. (commando type) model F2
>(21e century)
>I am falling backwards "this is the end" I think
I feel no pain just an 
>intense silence and a star bright light with is giving me
an uplifted 
>feeling. Within that split second I realize that my life
is passing in 
>front of my eyes. Remembering a broken heart which drove
me into the 
>military in the first place, boot camp, communications training,
assistant 
>instructor, jungle training in South-America, combat medic,
commando 
>training and eventually the commando instructors stage AMF
(long range 
>recon patrol) who killed me several times over and over again
until I knew 
>that I had changed into a killing machine, prepared to operate
behind enemy 
>lines
>completely alone with ease and whit. I had to go forward
it was the only 
>solution I had to take him out he was the backbone of their
troops 
>commanding and communicating their orders in this game of
chess. Ass I saw 
>his head explode I was thrown backwards.
>
>
>==============================================
>
>==============================================
>
>Now, on to the first ever episode of ST: HSF:
>
>"Space, the final frontier...
>
>Speed, the essence of moving; velocity, the supreme goal
of a starship. 
>Enterprise hurled herself into the void, taking on more,
ever more speed 
>every second. Already, tachyon density around the hull was
increasing as 
>StarFleet's flag ship levelled her speed with that of the
elusive 
>particles. One minor alarm went off but then decided to go
and mind its own 
>business. The incident was logged, timestamped and recorded
into the main 
>computer's vast databanks, only to resurface after somebody
would decide to 
>start on a diligent search for it through the billions and
billions of 
>kiloquads of data.
>
>Several seconds after the pyrotechnics of warp jump, measured
velocity 
>against the background of distant stars approached warp 7."
>
>  "Warp 7 and holding, the board is green accross, sir."
>
>Captain Picard nodded at the helm and stood up.
>
>  "Number one, you have the bridge." Picard had
not been a cadet for a very 
>long time, but he held his frame ramrod straight as he went
into his ready 
>room to read the mission's details.
>
>Thirty minutes later, a call came from the ready room. Five
seconds later, 
>the USS Enterprise had changed heading back into the heart
of Federation 
>space and had increased speed to Warp 9.975. Destination:
Earth.
>
>  ---
>
>Lieutenant Sorahl returned to his quarters 2.1 minutes after
departing from 
>Main Engineering, as usual. The uniform slid from his limbs
to be exchanged 
>for the heavy folds of his meditation robe. Sorahl's fingers
brushed the 
>pleasant coolness of the granite slab, imported especially
for mental 
>exercise and he sat down on it.
>
>  "Logic is the cement of our civilisation.."
>
>The words flowed easily, having been repeated 14102 times
since his mother 
>had taught him the text.
>
>  "Logic is the cement of our civilisation, with which
we rise from chaos, 
>using reason as our guide."
>
>His mind spiralled inwards, shedding the day's stray thoughts
with 
>practiced ease. "Logic is the cement of our civilisation,
with which we 
>rise"
>
>The candles burned softly, spreading incense through the
sparcely decorated 
>quarters. For the moment, damage control was forgotten. For
fourteen 
>minutes
>at least, Lieutenant Sorahl's universe shrunk and focused
until he was one 
>with that special Vulcan place, that cool, restful state
of mind where 
>logic is all.
>
>  "Logic is the cement of our civi"
>
>---
>
>Shaun was bored. Most members of StarFleet, let alone almost
all others, 
>felt exhilarated at high warp. The colourful little stripes
the stars 
>trailed as their images passed the coupling and decoupling
navigation 
>shields filled most sentient beings with a feeling of awe.
Not Shaun, 
>though.
>
>One of the disadvantages of bending space through a couple
of thousand 
>millicochranes was that the delicate imagery scanners of
the astrophysics 
>lab were totally useless. Shaun Evans lived in Astrophysics.
>
>His agile fingers flew over the computer screen, calling
up and recalling 
>data gathered over the last two, blessedly slow-moving weeks.
As luck would 
>have it, they had been able to chart almost 86% of the star-birthing
gas 
>clouds in the Trinneer-sector. He could analyse the sensor
data for days on 
>end and still not even make a significant dent in the records.
In a way, he 
>could be happy.
>
>---
>
>Dark, cold space sparkled for a moment. A small object, its
temperature 
>almost one with the surrounding void, had picked up a stray
ray of light 
>and refracted it again. It turned end over end, drifting
slowly away from 
>the warm heart of the solar system it had originated from.
>
>----------------------
>End of episode.
>
>
>xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
>xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
>
>Shaun sat rigid and alone at his table in 10 Forward, staring
with growing 
>disatisfaction at the hallucinagenic shower of stars trailing
past the 
>windows.  Around him, teams of officers, groups of technicians,
even 
>romantic couples enjoyed their time off, sipped exotic drinks,
and watched 
>countless star systems shoot past the windows, unstudied,
unappreciated
>
>Idle words flowed effortlessly from their mouths.  Hair was
tossed, shirts 
>were tightened around fit torsos, bodies leaned in towards
each other to 
>convey
>a secret.  Unheard punchlines sent men and women into simultaneous
peals of 
>laughter.  Shaun wanted no part of it, he assured himself,
only shortly 
>thereafter
>remembering that he'd spent the last hour doing nothing but
drinking 
>icewater alone, and watching other people enjoy that very
passtime
>
>Disgusted with himself for having engaged in such a monumental
waste of 
>time, he decided to return to the Astrophysics lab again,
to take advantage 
>of the peace
>and quiet of the late shift.  Standing up brusquely, his
knee caught the 
>edge of his table, toppling it and its contents to the floor,
to the 
>ammusement of the
>strong-jawed transporter room security room guard sitting
nearby
>
>"Oh, not again.  You always forget you've got legs under
the table, eh?" he 
>chided, as his muscular chest rose and fell with laughter
>
>Shaun never had a good comeback for taunts like that... surely
one would 
>come to him several hours later, but for now he was speechless.
Turning to 
>head
>for the door, he saw the familiar form of Guinan behind the
bar, gazing 
>knowingly at him with a faint smile.  "I suppose she
wants to give me her 
>silly
>words of wisdom for how to avoid knocking over the damned
table," he 
>thought, forcing himself to hold her in contempt for thinking
there was 
>ANYTHING he needed help with.  He felt her eyes follow him
across the floor 
>as he headed toward the door in his jerky gate
>
>The doors to the corridor snapped open crisply and Shaun
took a sharp left 
>to the turbolift.  With his eyes downcast as usual, he didn't
notice the 
>tall,
>athletic ensign directly in his path, heading the other way.
 They surely 
>would have collided spectacularly -- another gaffe for the
delight of
>everyone in 10 Forward, no doubt -- had not the ensign's
agility enabled 
>him to jump out of Shaun's way and press his body flat against
the wall.  
>"We
>have to stop meeting like this," the friendly voice
called out with a good 
>natured chuckle, as Shaun lowered his head even more and
fled to the 
>turbolift.
>A trickle of sweat ran down his neck, and he was relieved
to find himself 
>alone in the lift on the way to his one true sanctuary
>
>Back in the lab, all was quiet.  Since the ship had gone
to warp speed, all 
>the high-resolution spectroscopy instruments were off-line.
Past data was
>automatically being archived and analyzed by the neural network
process 
>he'd designed.  No one was there.  Shaun felt the comfort
of his scientific 
>world
>closing back around him like a blanket.  The complex hydrostatic
 
>equilibrium equation he'd been deriving danced in his mind's
eye, and he 
>leaned back in his
>chair enjoying the silence and serenity, hours slipping by
in total 
>concentration
>
>"We have to stop meeting like this..." he heard
his mind replay.  "Why did 
>I just think that?" Shaun wondered, annoyed at himself
that he'd allowed 
>himself
>to break concentration.  Upon hearing the muffled slicing
sound of an 
>automatic door closing out in the corridor, he quickly realized
that the 
>earlier sound
>of the door opening had triggered his brain to recall the
near collision by 
>the door of 10 Forward from earlier in the evening.  "Ah,
yes that makes 
>sense, an
>interesting psychological response to an auditory cue,"
Shaun thought with 
>satisfaction.  His mind returned to probing much more complicated
mysteries 
>of
>science
>
>"Stop meeting like this?" his mind interrupted
again  "Why did he say 
>that?"  Had they met before?  "He wears a Red uniform...
 certainly nobody 
>I'd know.  It
>must mean he doesn't want to see me again," Shaun thought.
 Yes, that makes 
>sense.  Try not to run into him again, that's what he meant.
 "No problem 
>there,
>I'm lucky if I see anyone twice on this starship"
>
>But that theory didn't fit the data.  The ensign had been
smiling as he 
>spoke.  Shaun remembered that now... it was a broad smile
filled with 
>flashing white
>teeth, the corners of his eyes crinkled up.  He could see
the blue grey 
>eyes, so icey in color but still very friendly.  No, it wasn't
the kind of 
>sneer the
>transporter guard had given him in 10 Forward.  He remembered
the guard's 
>eyes had been richly brown, butthe stare had been harsh and
cold
>
>"This," thought Shaun, "is why it is so useless
to try to understand 
>people.  They say the same words and mean different things,
and the same 
>thing when they
>say different words."
>
>Once again he forced his mind away from the world around
him, and imagined 
>himself as a single quantum of ionized gas in a large matrix
simulation.  
>"It's
>such a simple matter of calculating the balance between mass
and energy 
>flow in the--"
>
>Shaun's brain lurched to a halt... now he couldn't help but
remember the 
>excitement he'd felt when the ensign's muscular stomach stopped
his 
>flailing arm as
>Shaun struggled to regain his balance, the firm grip on his
shoulder that 
>broke his fall, and the way the ensign's hand had smoothed
his rumpled 
>uniform across
>his back as he had steadied himself against the wall.  He
hadn't lost his 
>balance this time.  This time.  "That's it! I did meet
him before.  It was 
>at the
>turbo lift where I bumped into him... two days ago."
>
>Anguished, Shaun gave up on trying to solve any physics problems,
and 
>turned his concentration to figuring out what had REALLY
been said tonight. 
>  "..
>stop meeting like this..."  Did this ensign want to
meet in a different 
>way?  Did he want to be one of those fools drinking purple
liquid and 
>oohing and
>ahhing as the pretty little stars zoom by the window in 10
Forward??  
>Shaun's mind recoiled in disgust at the thought of such a
shallow passtime, 
>but he was
>caught short by imagining the young officer leaning forward
to share a 
>secret with him, his face getting closer to his ear.  Shaun's
heart beat 
>with
>excitement, at the same time as his brain haranged itself
for spending any 
>time on such a pointless exercise in human relations..
>
>His tortured reverie was interrupted by a chirp from the
computer, 
>announcing his gaseous matrix simulation had just completed.
 He read the 
>results from the
>display: "10.5 x 10^18 ions per cubic meter... now THAT
is just what I'd 
>expect!"  There it was, pure knowledge, pure fact wrestled
from a world of
>uncertainty.  He sighed deeply, feeling relieved yet exhausted,
suddenly 
>forgetting completely about the unsolved problem of the meeting
outside 10 
>Forward.
>He idled his display terminal, powered off the lights in
the lab, and 
>headed back to his quarters for some sleep, oblivious to
the quickened pace 
>of crewmembers
>passing him in the hall
>
>Pausing just outside the door to his quarters, a stranger
with a concerned 
>look on his face caught his attention and asked, "Have
you heard?  We're 
>heading
>back to earth... warp factor 9.975!"
>
>"No, you're wrong there, I show it to be more like 10.5
x 10^18", Shaun 
>corrected distractedly, and stepped into his quarters without
waiting for a
>response. He fell asleep in his uniform, the moment he laid
down
>
>[HSF] The adventure continues
>
>"No, you're wrong there, I show it to be more like 10.5
x 10^18", Shaun 
>corrected distractedly, and stepped into his quarters without
waiting for a
>response. He fell asleep in his uniform, the moment he laid
down
>
>The 'stranger' walked away, puzzled. Actually, he wasn't
a stranger at all. 
>Sorahl had known Evans for 2.1 years now and had established
a relationship 
>he would
>have called friendship if he were human, which he was not.
Worry surged up 
>his mind  Sorahl repressed it automatically but fact was
that Shaun was 
>behaving irregularly in the last several tendays. He had
not turned up for 
>wednesday night chess games three times in a row. As a Vulcan,
Sorahl took 
>punctuality for granted and Shaun had a remarkably good reputation
for 
>human. Not so now..
>
>Sorahl made a decision. He turned around on his heel and
headed back to 
>Evan's quarters  He tapped the annunciator and it chirped
obediently. After 
>4.6 seconds, it chirped again. And then again. Finally, the
doors opened
>
>  "10.5 x 10^18.. eh.. I mean, yes?" Shaun blinked
a couple of times.
>
>Sorahl folded his hands behind his back.
>
>  "If I have come at an inopportune moment..."
He started to withdraw.
>
>  "No no no, ehm, come on in. Sorry for the mess."
>
>---
>
>  To  : Cpt. Picard, USS ENTERPRISE - NCC 1701-D
>  From: Adm. Nechayev, STARFLEET COMMAND - STRATEGIC DIV
>
>  Captain,
>
>  The situation is grave, I will cut right to the point
>  Worm holes have opened all over sector 001. The locations
follow a close  
>pattern, a cubicle grid. Of course this cannot be natural.
Two hours ago
>  an unidentified craft, somewhat resembling a Romulan D'Voras-class
 
>warbird  entered Federation Space. Although no incident occurred,
 
>sattelites around
>  Jupiter were able to scan the vessel. Weapons and propulsion
specs follow 
>  below. At the least, they are twice as powerful as a Galaxy-class
vessel
>
>  You are hereby ordered to return to the Sol system and
take up patrol 
>duty along the third defense line
>
>  Yours sincerely,
>
>  Admiral Nechayev
>
>---
>
>- to be continued -
>
>[HSF] In the mean time
>
>... beep...
>
>Humans, for all they are worth, are relatively new to this
galaxy. There 
>are races far more advanced and almost as old as time itself.
There are 
>races which count their lifetime on the scale of neutron
decay. Only once 
>has a StarFleet ship encountered one of these ancients. Universal
peace and 
>hello-messages were transmitted on all frequencies and in
all known 
>languages. It took the Federation just under three years
to translate the 
>long, sonorous reply: "Run along, sonny. You are bothering
me/us."
>
>... beep ..
>
>Humans advance. Not ten thousand years ago, less then one
revolution of our 
>galaxy, humans were all called Ugh. In the last five centuries
they have 
>fought global war but also stamped out hatred and famine,
reworked the 
>world's culture into one without money, a world that no longer
strives most 
>intensively to material gain. One thousand years ago, humans
believed that 
>unquestioning belief was the source of all wisdom.
>
>.. beep ...
>
>In the present day, fractional differential equations are
written down and 
>solved. Earth's sister planet was reached by a rocket with
no more 
>computational power than a 20th century dish washer. Today's
starships 
>conquer the stars, using computers that process data faster
than light.
>
>... beep ..
>
>Still, humans remain peculiar. What logic can explain a team
of absolute 
>top scientists, brave pioneers of space exploration, building
an auditory 
>signal into their creation? It carried no living crew, it
wasn't even 
>designed to carry living crew. Still, the signal was there
>
>.... beep .
>
>[HSF] Illogical struggle
>
>Last time on Star Trek,
>
>   Sorahl folded his hands behind his back
>
>   "If I have come at an inopportune moment..."
He started to withdraw
>
>   "No no no, ehm, come on in. Sorry for the mess."
>
>And now the continuation:
>
>As soon as the sentence was out of his mouth, Shaun rubbed
his short 
>tousled blond hair vigorously and blurted, as if to correct
himself, "No, 
>no, no, it's
>not a mess, Sorahl, it's eminently logical!"
>
>Sorahl was intrigued to hear Shaun borrow the phrase "eminently
logical", 
>which Sorahl used so frequently, but was also distracted
by Shaun's habit 
>of
>gratuitously including a person's name in so many of his
sentences, even 
>when no other person could logically be the intended recipient.
 Lt. Evans 
>seemed
>far more rational of a human than most others on the ship;
this was a 
>character quality that Sorahl noticed had become more pronounced
throughout 
>the 2.1 years
>the two had known each other.  As their relationship haltingly
grew closer, 
>Sorahl occasionally found himself surpressing a sense of
curiosity and 
>maybe
>even something that could be called excitement, each time
he observed that 
>his human companion was rather transparently seeking to emulate
the 
>behavior of a
>race so different from his.  Nevertheless, there were many
things about 
>Shaun that seemed so inadequate, so many flaws that were
unapologetically 
>left
>uncorrected.  Of late, those flaws seemed to be magnifying,
and erasing 
>much of the burgeoning rationality Sorahl had been so intrigued
to observe
>
>Shaun spun around on his heel and walked back away from the
door, without 
>inviting his guest in.  Sorahl stood for a moment still in
the corridor, 
>waiting for
>the breach of etiquette to be corrected, but it wasn't. 
Hands still 
>clasped behind his sleek, slender frame, he took a few measured
steps 
>across the
>threshold and stood there patiently, waiting to judge Shaun's
reaction.  
>There was none.  He walked fully into Shaun's quarters, the
door snapping 
>crisply shut
>behind him
>
>"I disagree.  Your quarters are in fact a mess, which
is quite unusual. 
>Crew quarters cannot be 'eminently logical'.  Perhaps you
were referring to 
>something
>else?  If you will forgive the observation, logic suggests
you are 
>distraught.  As a friend, it is my duty to ask why.  Please
elaborate."
>
>Shaun stared at his friend for a moment, then shrugged. 
With a 
>dissatisfied sigh, he slid the shirt of his starfleet uniform
up over his 
>head and threw it
>towards a chair, missing by several feet, only returning
to pick it up when 
>he noticed Sorahl starting disapprovingly at the crumpled
garment on the
>floor
>
>"Sorahl, how can the world be so different for sentient
beings, and for the 
>inanimate matter that surrounds them?" Shaun asked,
his voice sounding
>noticeably weary.  "Atoms float in space, photons collide
with them, 
>electrons go flying... I can sit for a few hours and figure
it all out.  
>Yet when
>something makes those atoms decide to come together in a
clump, and they 
>eventually turn into a human, boom!  You just can't predict
or understand 
>their behavior
>any more.  You and I, we're a terrible thermodynamic accident...
much lower 
>entropy than gas clouds.  That should mean less disorder,
not more.  We 
>should be so easy to figure out.  Doesn't that ever bother
you when you 
>chant to yourself... oh what is it?  'Logic is the concrete
of our 
>people'?"
>
>"Logic is the cement of our civilisation," Sorahl
corrected his human 
>companion dispassionately.  "If I may be so bold, perhaps
your human 
>tendancy to be irrational just shows the macroscopic evidence
of increasing 
>entropy, increasing disorder and chaos.  We Vulcans learned
long ago that 
>this tendency may be
>counteracted with logic; we use logic as our guide to rise
from the chaos 
>that is inherent in the Universe."
>
>Shaun pondered for a moment, leaning against a chair, his
right hand 
>stroking his bare abdoment absent-mindedly.  "Yeah,
Sorahl, but... why's it
>logical to do THAT?"
>
>For the briefest of moments, a feeling of dread emerged in
Sorahl's mind.  
>He had repeated the phrase 14,105 times -- "Logic is
the cement of our 
>civilisation" -- and so many rational and consistent
conclusions can be 
>traced back to this single concept   But why was it logical
itself?  Unable 
>to answer,
>Sorahl glanced at Shaun, expecting to find a gleam of triumph
in his eyes 
>akin to those rare occasions when he was victorious in a
chess match.  
>Instead, Shaun
>was gazing vacantly at an anonymous corner of his quarters,
his fingers 
>gently rocking back and forth across two furrows in his abdominal
muscles
>
>"If you will forgive me, I must leave now, as I have
other matters to 
>attend to.  Perhaps this discussion can be resumed at a later
time," Sorahl 
>explained,
>making every attempt to cover up his sudden confusion with
his usual aire 
>of formality.  Sorahl walked briskly for the door, mentally
calculating the 
>time he
>would need to return to his quaters
>
>"Ok, see ya later!  Don't be too logical now,"
Shaun called after the 
>Vulcan before the doors snapped shut. Those words only increased
the 
>urgency in Sorahl's gait
>
>[HSF] Foundations
>
>Sorahl walked away from Evans' quarters for the second time
in three 
>minutes, extremely wondrous. Not only did Evans seem to deteriorate
quite 
>rapidly, he had also not been able to furnish the standard
reply Vulcan 
>usually quoted when questioned on logic
>
>Logic is a method of 'truth preservation'. If you start with
one or more 
>assumptions that are true, the result will always be true
also, whatever 
>path your logical thinking traces. Of course, if you start
with an untruth, 
>you will never get to a truth but that problem is not a methodical
one. 
>Vulcans use logic as a way
>of thinking because it guarantees them a clear, error-free
mind.
>
>He decided to prolong his daily meditation for another three
minutes the 
>next time. Mental lapses likes this one were quite uncommon,
although not 
>unheard of, on Vulcan. A lingering doubt resurfaced in Sorahl's
mind: did 
>the continuous battering of human emotion onboard influence
him? He 
>preferred that not to be the case. Then again, was that wishful
thinking? 
>He pushed the thought to the back of his mind, to be dealt
with later
>
>The ship shuddered and came to rest again, all within a time
frame of 4.3 
>seconds. This was even more unusual. Sorahl noticed from
the telltale 
>vibrations in the deck plates that the Enterprise had left
subspace and 
>fallen below light speed. A mental check of the elapsed travel
time against 
>the relative speed of the ship revealed that they should
have reached 
>Earth's solar system by now and Sorahl pushed another worrisome
thought to 
>the back of his mind
>
>On the bridge, tension was remarkably higher.
>
>"What was that?!", asked Vaughan Lipshitz. The
young lieutenant commander 
>frantically tapped his read-out panel
>
>It took only seconds for the bridge crew to react. Ensign
Sokolj rattled of 
>his report
>
>"We've hit a small probe of some kind. Buckling on the
starboard hull, 
>force fields in place, minor loss of atmosphere, compensating,
no 
>casualties, scanning now."
>
>Lipshitz envied the ensign's calmness. He did his job, as
he was trained, 
>calmly and effectively. Centre seat was becoming more and
more 
>uncomfortable. It was all right to say 'point the ship that
way', and 'drop 
>out of warp'. Anything else made sweat drip down his neck.
Much of the rest 
>of his body too, for that matter. Vaughan hesitated
>
>He was still trying to tug down his uniform shirt neatly
when the reports 
>came streaming in. Apparently they had managed to hit an
old probe, early
>21st century, that had been taking the last decades to exit
the Kuijper 
>belt and was now drifting away, powerless, slowly decelerating
because of 
>the
>ever-present stellar dust. It had solar panels, no active
propulsion, a 
>cryptic reference to something called NASA in neat letters
on the hull and 
>several sizeable holes in its hull. The most interesting
about the derelict 
>spacecraft, however, were the two life signs
>
>"Why was this never noticed before, then?" Vaughan
Lipshitz stood up and 
>paced the command area. "Why do we have to get in the
way of some stupid
>piece of space junk? Why wasn't it destroyed?"
>
>"With all due respect, lieutenant commander, there are
dozens of little 
>wreckages floating through local space. No one pays them
much attention, 
>unless they're special in some way."
>
>Lipshitz thought for a moment. "Captain Picard to the
bridge!"
>
>
>[HSF] Flashback
>
>A bright white light in emptiness. I must be dead. "Is
this the 
>afterlife?", I think
>
>..BEEP
>
>No, I am hallucinating, I can still feel my painful muscles.
Sgt. Lopez had 
>done his best to make me fail the AMF stage but I made it.
The first two 
>weeks I thought I would die but after I realised I was still
alive, I went 
>down on my knees to pray to God and ask him if it was possible
for me to 
>pass this toughest stage of all. I wanted to be a commando,
it was my 
>childhood dream, a thought of my daughter past by so rapidly
that I had no 
>time to cry.
>
>..BEEP
>
>I looked towards the blackboard an saw to my surprise that
the colour of 
>the information paper in front of the bedroom door had changed
from yellow 
>to
>green (never a good sign). The stage I had entered "and
was chosen to do by 
>my commander Lauga" normally lasted 6 weeks I approached
the paper and 
>realised that my senses were right... 14 weeks (f'n.sh.t)
but why and how 
>were we to last in those conditions? Just jungle and nothing
but jungle and 
>the hand of God reincarnated as Sgt. Lopez.  I do not know..O...God
please 
>help.
>
>..BEEP
>
>
>
>
 
 
 

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