A Fall From Grace

A Fall From Grace
Chris Barker

Day 1

The space outside Starbase 179 sparkled. The Inkara Nebula shined with
grace, its colors, purple, orange, red, and yellow.
>From the bridge of Starbase 179, Captain Callad watched with utter
curiosity. The ship was large, 770 meters long. Its hull was painted a dark
grey. It looked almost dead. But it wasn’t. It was far from that. Inside the
massive ship, 10,000 troops sat ready. For what. WAR! And war was
coming. It could not be stoped. The ship started up, twin engines flaring to
life. It pushed forward, surging towards the Inkara Nebula.
The ship was named *Hunter Prey* It moved like a hunter stalking its prey.
On board the bridge of the *Hunter Prey* Captain Antonio Antana, sat
perched in his command chair. His officers were flying into battle, to never
“The Inkara Nebula is now 200 meters away,” Lieutenant Jackson called.
Antana tapped his commbadge. “Engine room, cut power to 1/3. Helm take
us into the nebula.”
Two “Aye Sir!” were heard. One on the bridge, and one through the
comm-line. The Inkara Nebula grew larger and larger on the viewscreen.
Then it filled the viewscreen. “We are now in the Inkara Nebula,” Jackson
Antana had to give the order he didn’t want to give, but he had to. The
Federation would need them. But not know. “Sleep mode,” he commanded.
The officers on the bridge of the *Hunter Prey* nodded. Jackson tapped the
command in his console…

Day 10

The Federation Starship *Churchill* swung about, its powerfull impulse
engines firing themselfs. The three Klingon ships had just de-cloaked. In
the first ten days of war, the Klingons had scored three victories against the
Federation. Starfleet had won a minor engagment, but it paled next to the
victory of the Klingons.
“Three Klingon Birds Of Prey in standared formation,” Lieutenant
Commander Scott Ackla said from his perch at tactical.
The *Churchill* was a Galaxy Class Starship. She had a state of the art
phaser system, and over 600 photon torpedos. She was one of Starfleet key
weapons in the war.
The Klingons fired first. Three torpedos shot out from the lead ship. “Brace
for impact!” Captain Braxton shouted.
The Captain sat in his command chair, erect, well aware that his ship might
not make it out of battle. But he would do everything in his power to see
that his ship came through. Through alive, and through with a victory for
the Federation.
The bridge of the *Churchill* shuddered. An explosien was heard. The
helmsmen fell backwards, his console had exploded in his face. “Fire at
will!” Braxton shouted.
That was all Scott needed. His hands danced accross the controls. Twin
beams of phaser fire shot out from the *Churchill* impacting with the lead
Klingon ship. The Klingon ships shields fell to 71%. Scott fired again, this
time sending phasers and photon torpedos at them. The Klingons shields
failed. It fell back, letting one of its partners take over.
The next two Klingon ships fired disruptors, hitting the *Churchill* with a
punch. “Port shields gone!” Ackla shouted. The Klingons then hit them in
the same spot. “Damn.” Scott muttered. “Hull breach on Deck 14.
Emergency forcefield active, and holding,” Scott reported.
“Damage control teams to Deck 14, continue firing,” Captain Braxton
ordered. He clutched the sides of his chair, sweat poured down from his
face. They needed to win this battle. Four more torpedos came at them…

Day 21

Eleven days had passed since the *Churchill* had been destroyed. Its loss
was still felt among the crew of the Starship *Enterprise*
Captain Jean-Luc Picard sat in his command chair. Picard had felt this loss
greatly. Braxton had been a friend of his. The sun on the viewscreen grew
larger and larger as the *Enterprise* approched the Klingon border. It was
certain death, but the crew of his fine starship stared it down in the eye.
Only time would tell if thier mission was a success.

Day 109

Admirals Log Combat Date 109: We have taken more losses today. With
the destruction of the *Enterprise* in the early days of the war, we have
been left with out a flagship. At least one that had a Captain as good as
Picard. The Klingons destroyed Starbase 471 today. That hit Starfleet hard.
Starbase 471 was one of our main shipping ports to the Fifth Fleet. Without
it, we can’t get supplies to the Fifth Fleet. They will have to be recalled,
which will leave our borders in Sector Epsilon open to Klingon attack.
Almost nothing of Starlfeet is left. The Klingons have destroyed more then
88% of Starfleet. How they could do this we don’t know. We have little
over 100 ships left. I am gathering them for a final strike against the
Klingons. We must destroy the Klingons, or die.

Day 206

Admirals Log Combat Date 206: Our numbers are down to fifty ships. We
have taken to running. Earth has been taken by the Klingons. Its inhabitents
are now slaves. The human race is dying. We have fallen. The last of our
ships are being hiden on Torroes IV. After that we will fly my starship to
the Klingon homeworld. We will make a suicide run against the Klingon
homeworld. We will succed. We must! We have a cloaking device that
should keep them in the dark. The mission is being called

Fifteen Years Later

“You Klingon coward!” Eric Dawson shouted.
His fist shot out, hitting the Klingon again. Sixteen Klingon warriors were
huddeled around the Klingon and the Human.
The Klingon snarled, and lept at Eric, who sidesteped the move. He had
faught more Klingons then he cared to remember. He knew how they
fought. Like a sissy. Eric sliped a knife to his hand, and slashed at the
Klingon. The blade sliced the skin of the Klingon warrior. It sliced his arm,
drawing blood.

Two hours later Eric walked down the streets outside his house. Earth was a
wreck. The Klingons had stripped the world raw. They didn’t care much for
the Humans, just thier world. They didn’t care if the humans broke crimes
against them, or if they would brawl with them. But if the humans ever tried
to take over Earth again, they would no doubt be slaughtered.
Eric had been two when the Klingons had invaded. His mother had moved
them to a shelter in Paris during the early days of the Federation/Klingon
War. They had lived underground durning the war. After the Klingons took
over she moved him back to the United States. To Texas. They had lived
with a Klingon watching every street. Over the course of ten years Eric had
grown up, not allowed to go near Klingons. He had killed his first Klingon
at fifteen.
The Klingon child had been a bastard. He wanted Eric’s knife. When he
refused the Klingon drew a knife. But Eric was street smart. The Klingon
teenager was just plain dumb. He slashed the throat of the Klingon
teenager, then buried him in a field. No one ever missed the little bastard,
and no one had ever thought that someone as scrawny as Eric could have
done something like that. So he got away with it.
His mother had died when he was sixteen. He had been alone for the last
year. He had heard rumors of a Rebelion, he wanted to join. It would be
great to see the Klingons destroyed.
He entered his small home with that thought still fresh in his mind. He
would have to find some way to get in contact with the Rebellion against
the Klingon Empire.

Eric slowly opened his eyes. He was in his room. The fire in his fire place
still burned, giving off its warmth. It wrapped around Eric like a blanket.
He shivered. He stood up, his bare feet hitting the cold stone floor of his
small home. He walked over to his food replicator. “Hot Chocolate,” he
Before he could take the drink he heard the whine of a transporter. He
turned around. A man faced him, then shot him.

“Sit up,” a voice commanded.
Eric blinked. Light invaded his eyes. He closed them, then opened them
again slowly. The light invaded his eyes again, but this time he could
handle it. “What do you want?” he asked.
“We ask the questions!” a gruff voice shouted.
Eric was silent.
“How old are you?”
“Do you hate Klingons?”
“Is this a trick question?” Eric asked.
“Just answer!” the man roared.
“YES!” Eric shouted back, with hate, with a rage that he kept locked up
inside himself. He hated Klingons more then anything else. They had killed
his mother, killed an unknown father, slaughtered millions, enslaved the
human race. He hated the Klingons with every fiber of his being.
“Good,” the voice responded.
“Do you want to fight the Klingons, to take back what belongs to us?”
“Then join us Eric Dawson. Join us in the fight against the Klingons, as we
free the galaxy of the Klingon scum.”
“I will join,” Eric replied, smiling. He would show the Klingons.

E-Mail Me: nummies@swbell.net


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