Tales of Tragedy Writing Contest

We here at Stonewall are thrilled to announce #TalesOfTragedy, our FIRST #WritingContest of the year, running now through April 30th, 2017!  We're very excited to announce that we'll be looking for three winning entries, based on a variety of criteria that we'll touch on in more detail below.  This contest is open to all members of the Stonewall community, regardless of which games you play!  We're so very eager for you, Stonewall's amazing writing talents, to once again share your talent and creativity with us and your community!

The theme of this writing contest is "Tales of Tragedy".  We want you to include your in-game character or characters as you meticulously weave your tale of woe.  As you know, no tragedy can really be considered a success if it leaves even a single dry eye among your readers.  We want to be tormented... we want to be heartbroken... we want to know through your story, what exactly it is to feel sorrow.




To participate in Stonewall's Tales of Tragedy writing contest, you must post your entry here, in this thread, before day's end on April 30th, 2017.  Please use the #TalesOfTragedy hashtag in your entries.  Your posted entry must comply with these additional six rules to be eligible:

1.  Your story must in some way relate to one of your in-game characters, their friends, group or crew
2.  Your story must be written in English (so the judges can understand it)
3.  Your story must be your own original work (plagiarism will result in disqualification)
4.  Don't make your story novel length; we need to be able to read it in a single sitting!
5.  The content of your story must not be edited after the submission deadline

Only one entry per community member, please.  While we encourage you to include graphics to supplement your Tale of Tragedy, only the written narrative portion of your entry will be judged.

This contest, we'll be looking for the THREE stand-out tragic tales among all of the entries.  As we've done in the past, a panel of three judges will individually rate each of the entries in the categories of creativity, detail and impact.  The average of all three judge's rankings of an entry will produce the final score against which, the other entries will be ranked!  The categories are explained in more detail below:

• Creativity: To what degree is the content original or unique?
• Detail: To what degree are elements of the story explained in more intricate detail, rather than simply being stated as fact?
• Impact: To what degree does the story resonate with the reader for a more lasting impact?

The winning contest entries will be recognized on our Facebook and Twitter social media feeds.  The winners will also be entitled to choose from one of three different prize packages that we've assembled.  Each pack is geared toward one of the three main games played in the Stonewall Gaming Network, namely: a Star Trek Online themed prize pack, a Guild Wars 2 themed prize pack or a Star Wars: The Old Republic themed prize pack.  We'll also be giving away a participation prize of two Stonewall Credits to all those who enter!  The winners will be able to choose one of the three following prize packs:

Star Trek Online Themed Prize Pack:

1.  5 Stonewall Credits
2.  Choice of an EXCLUSIVE WizKids Command Assault Cruiser unlock code OR
3.  1,000 Zen

We only have ONE Command Assault Cruiser code to give away.  First choice of prize will go to the winner with the highest score.  *Stonewall credits can be saved and/or redeemed for in-game merchandise through the Stonewall Credits Store.

Guild Wars 2 Themed Prize Pack:

1.  A Heart of Thorns expansion unlock code
2.  A hand-crafted set of exotic armor, weapons and jewels for a level 80 toon (donated by @whiteonmyoji)

Star Wars Themed Prize Pack:

1.  2,400 Cartel Coins!

Good luck to all participants!  We can't wait to cry ourselves to sleep each night after reading your entries!

How about something in the style of simplicity? #TalesofTragedy

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* This postcard was found in the personal effects of Captain Nathanial Hallifax at his home on Earth after his ship, the USS Warwick, was destroyed during the Iconian War. Friends and family close to him say that he carried this card with him on every assignment but his last - after the man he was in love with, Harrison Daniels, was killed in the Battle of Wolf 359 shortly after sending this. Hallifax never married. It gives a perspective that two officers never had a chance to have a life together, and in the end, both died because of war - but in the line of duty.

Can I just resubmit my story from the last time cause I can't think of another tragedy?

Quote by NicholasJohn16

Can I just resubmit my story from the last time cause I can't think of another tragedy?

Sure, @NicholasJohn16.  If you want to resubmit a previous submission that meets the criteria, go ahead. 

My entry for the #TalesofTragedy Writing Contest!

Nick stared down at the flashing red console. The ship was under attack. He grasped a nearby safety rail as it started to shake. Many of his colleagues were quick at  work; managing the sensor array to keep it from going offline, rerouting coolant so the reactors maintained power, or working on shield modulations to protect them from their unknown enemy. Nick just stood there.

What is a geneticist supposed to do during a battle? He was at his station, but aside from someone suddenly developing a genetic disorder, he didn’t have much of a function. For situations like this, Nick had received medical training to act as an emergency medic, but so had most of the other science department. Sick Bay had all the help they needed. While familiar with the ship’s science systems, his other colleagues were far more experienced in the aforementioned specialties than he.

A ship of this class didn’t usually staff a geneticist. The position had only been made available recently.  Up till this point, he’d busied himself by taking on tasks that generally were relegated to a secondary science vessel. After the sector had already been explored and mapped by a more heavily armored and defendable ship, a science team or teams would be dispatched to research anything that was flagged as being of interest to Starfleet or the Federation.

Nick had found some interesting DNA sequences in a Type 3 nebula that had fascinated him greatly. Primordial and similar to DNA found on Earth, they were a mystery that he’d been working on for several months. He also had to sequence the genes and make high resolution scans of plants found on a recent planetary survey. They were to be transferred back to Science Ops for further study. Thus he’d had plenty of interesting work to occupy his time during the mission.

Nick stood there, looking around, trying to find something to do, but his colleagues were already on it. The ship shook. The emergency sirens rang. And seconds later the intercom came on, “Abandon ship.” Nearby screens blinked momentarily, then repeated the order with markings and directional information on how and where to evacuate the ship. The escape pods for this section were just down the corridor; Nick passed them every day on his way in.

Nick and the rest of the crew in his department started heading for the door. As he approached the door he could see Matt and Ginny Beckman talking on the intercom. Their children were up in the crew quarters and were obviously frightened. They were reassuring their children, instructing them to head to the escape pods and telling them they’d be along right behind them. Their children were listening, but Nick could still see the worry in their parent’s faces.

As Nick approached the doorway, he had to make a decision. To the left was the escape pods and to the right was the turbolift. He knew what he had to do; Nick took a right. He grabbed the arm of his Department Head who was standing in the corridor and making sure everyone was well and on their way and pulled him along with him.

“Nick, what are you doing? We have to go!” said Benjamin. Benjamin was a good man. They had worked together on a few different assignments over the years and considered each other friends.

“I’m not leaving without him.” Nick replied as he stepped into the turbolift.

“What? Are you crazy? You can’t even get to the Bridge right now. It’ll be locked to bridge officers only.”

“I know. I need your authorization code” said Nick as he pointed to the turbolift controls.

Benjamin looked up at Nick. His stern expression said it all. If Ben knew anything about his friend it was that when Nick was determined about something there was no changing his mind. Benjamin typed in a quick command into the controls and looked back at Nick.

“Good luck.” and with that, Benjamin headed back down the corridor to check on the rest of the department.

Nick stepped into the turbolift, the doors slid shut and he was rapidly on his way. The ship was still shaking and in the turbolift it was no different. He held on tight to the railing as it thrashed about. He could see from the display that some of the tubes had collapsed, some had been blocked by non-functional lifts, and others were escorting evacuees to the shuttle bay. The trip would not be direct and it would not be quick. Every distant explosion felt like it was at his feet and every moment seemed like an eternity.

Finally, the turbolift came to a stop and expelled its cargo onto the bridge with a sudden stop. The scene on the bridge was anything but reassuring. The Engineering stations had overloaded and were burnt beyond repair. Ducts and wiring had fallen through the cracked ceiling. Unknown gasses were hissing and billowing into the air. Judging by the readouts on the displays that were working, it was obvious the ship was badly damaged.

Most of the bridge crew was missing, most likely already evacuated. On the floor lay Chief Engineer Kopp, she must’ve died when the consoles overloaded. Nick didn’t know her well, but she was a great oboist and performed regularly with the ship band at events. He’d had many good memories with her music filling the air. Nick looked around and found what he was looking for sitting at the Conn.

Jameson was urgently tapping at the console. He had hardly noticed the turbolift, but quickly looked back when he heard Nick approaching. A look of shock and concern crossed his features, but moments later he was looking back at the display again.

“Nick, what are you doing here?”

“I wasn’t going to leave without you.”

“The captain’s the last to leave.”

“What can I do?”

“Head down that corridor and take the first pod you can find. I can’t worry about you too.” He said as firing a salvo of torpedoes back at the enemy.

Nick grabbed Jameson by the shoulder and he looked him squarely in the eye. “I’m not leaving without you.”

Nick sat down and at Ops and started tapping at the controls. “Most of the escape pods have cleared the ship. The shuttle craft are tractoring as many as they can out of the system.” The ship took a direct hit to the saucer section, directly by the Bridge. Nick and Jameson held tightly onto the consoles, but it still tossed them to the ground.

Jameson got back up and quickly returned fire. Nick checked the damage.

“Well, that’s that then. We’re blocked off from the rest of the ship and the transporters are offline.”

They looked up at each other.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

A question, can the story use in game events with the focal point of the tale being how the character (our personal toon) reacted, dealt with those events?

Quote by Niko

A question, can the story use in game events with the focal point of the tale being how the character (our personal toon) reacted, dealt with those events?

Absolutely, @Niko!

#TalesofTragedy Contest Submission.

**Warning, it's not a novel, but it might be a novella**

***SPOILERS***SPOILERS***SPOILERS***SPOILERS***SPOILERS***


It was like floating in a gentle bit of space. The water was just the right temperature of warmth that cradled my body. It was calming, and I could feel myself relax into the emptiness of the waters. I took the time to think about our recent mission.

I was just assigned to the USS Conqueror under Captain Durian Sol. I was so nervous when I reported, I was told horror stories about him. Since he was a Trill, he’d lived several lifetimes and had gathered immense tactical knowledge and skills. Some of what I was told included a zero tolerance for insubordination and failure to do your duty. When I arrived, I was directed to his Ready Room and told to wait. At first I stood, and then I felt I’d been standing for quite a while. I lost track of time, but my legs were starting to hurt. I sat down in one of the chairs and continued to wait as patiently as I could.

The next thing I remembered was the swooshing open of the office doors, and I jumped to my feet as quickly as possible to stand at attention. I was groggy and out of sorts, I’d fallen asleep waiting for the Captain. In my haste, I’d overshot my balance and fell head-first into the Captain as he entered his ready room. What happened next might have been comical, as he immediately sidestepped and brought down an arching blow that nearly broke my collar bone. I did mention his lifetimes of combat and tactical training, right? A day or two later, I was ordered back to his ready room and I was sternly welcomed to the ship and given permission to report for duty.

The ship left Deep Space 9 on a diplomatic mission to the recently rediscovered K-13. Part of our mission was to further identify how the station had moved into this area of the galaxy and still survive the temporal stasis. After an uneventful day, I went about my duties as any good ensign should do. I sat in that horribly uncomfortable conn chair and couldn’t help be feel like Captain Sol was staring down my back the whole time. At one point, a trickle of sweat dripped down, and I wiped it away. I furiously focused on the controls in front of me, and nearly jumped out of my skin when a hand grasped my shoulder, “Ensign?”

“I, uh, oh,..” I stuttered with shock, “YES SIR!?” I instantly regretted opening my mouth, the other stations looked over at us. I looked up at the Captain, his dark beard framed a half smile before he started laughing at me. The blood rushed to my ears and the room started to disappear around me, *oh gods, no… don’t faint,  don’t faint, don’t faint, don’t faint, don’t faint, don’t faint…*

“Ensign,” he asked again, “are you alright? Did the doctor really clear you for duty?”

I could barely hear him, his deep voice seemed to be coming from the other room, *oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit…* I vaguely remember seeing the Captain wave someone over before tapping his badge. *There goes my career, in the first day of real service after the academy, and I pass out because my captain touched me, how the hell am I going to surrvvvv…*

I felt myself drift aimlessly through the brilliant streaks of light. I focused my eyes on the sunlight that pushed down into the water around me, like a Prophet of Bajor reaching out to me. I lifted my hand toward the light, and the waters around me felt suddenly cooler. I hadn’t really noticed how deep I had drifted.

The waters began to change colors a bit, I remembered it was near the end of the day and the sky above had started shifting into the mixed colors of this planet’s most beautiful sunsets. Pinks and blues mixed and danced as the star’s radiation began to light up the edges of dusk with the most amazing light storms. On earth, they’re called borealis. From under the comfort of the water, the effects were tantalizing. The way the light danced through gave the most beautiful effects of red, like a waltz of violet and crimson on smoke moving through a great palace of Vulcan.

A nurse was standing over me when I came back to my senses on the bridge floor. The tall form of Captain Sol standing behind the nurse with this very dark look on his face. I felt the blood rush to my ears again, *please don’t yell, please don’t yell, please don’t yell. My mother is going to murder me if I get kicked out on my first day.*

“Ensign, can you sit up, slowly?” The male nurse was helping to lift my shoulders and back. “Take it easy. Are you okay?”

I felt the motion in my body before I could feel my body, *must be strong!* “Yes, yes. Thank you. I don’t know what happened.”

“It seems you fainted,” Captain Sol’s deep voice echoed through my head, those intense green eyes staring down at me. His crisp red uniform added an ominous red tint to the already deeply concerning look.

“I’m fine sir!” I began to clamor to my feet. I felt several hands begin to hold me down, I started to thrash, “I’m fine, I swear, this will never happen again!” My left hand found purchase in the shirt of the man on my left, as I yanked myself free of the constraining grips of others. As I pulled downward, I heard a tearing sound. When I found myself upright and on my feet, the same sudden darkening of the room and the imaginary walls closed in on my thoughts and ears.

When I looked up, I realized, much to my continued horror, I had grabbed a handful of the Captain’s shirt. It seems he had also lowered himself to hold me down, and instead I’d ripped his tunic to get to my feet. I didn’t faint this time, but ended up slumping forward into his arms. His body was solid, strong, and unmoving. His warmth was reassuring, as he hugged me close to support me. I’d never felt held like this before. I don’t know if I fainted in that moment again, but I do remember returning in earnest while sitting in the captain’s chair. “Ensign, you’re relieved of duty,” Captain Sol had spoken, and I lost myself again.

The waters were getting cooler and the light was fading faster. I was still very comfortable. A single beam of light drifted across the surface in my general direction. I gave a small laugh at the appearance of the light, it darted about above me like an ignes fatui or Earthling “Will-o-the-wisp.”

I didn’t want the ignes fatui to find me, I tried to will it away. I closed my eyes tight and focused on the memories. I felt that strength again, I felt those powerful arms wrapping around me again…

A few hours later, one of the doctors ordered me to bedrest in my quarters for at least 24 hours. I was escorted to my shared space and left to rest. I recorded a personal log entry detailing the miserable first day of work and sent it to my mother. I remember having tears in my eyes when I closed the recording, I was apologizing through muted sobs for being such a failure to her and the family. I crawled onto my bunk, faced the wall and fell asleep.

The next regular duty shift, I did my normal routine. I knew I was fine, I knew why I fainted, and I knew that my career was over, so why sit around and do nothing? I ate a light breakfast and hit the gym for a workout. I started packing my things. I wasn’t sure if I’d be put off at K-13 and have to wait for a transport, or if I’d be stuck riding the ship until we returned to a ‘modern’ federation station.

=/\= Bridge to Ensign Ildan, =/\= a female voice spoke.

I was startled, I guess this is it. I tapped my combadge, “This is Ildan.”

=/\= The doctor assures me you’re fit for duty, you’re late for your shift. =/\=

I didn’t know what to do, “er. I…, I’m on my way!” I quickly changed into my uniform and all but ran through the ship to the bridge. I was breathing slightly heavy as the doors opened. I did my best to walk down to the conn station. The ensign sitting at the station was a Vulcan woman. She gave me a blank look that I thought meant that I was ‘done.’ She stood up, and quietly said to me with the familiar voice, “don’t let it happen again” before she walked off the bridge.

I sat down at the station and took in the view of the console. We’d left K-13 and were traveling at warp 7 to a relatively unknown planet near the First Federation, in the Eta Serpentis Sector. It was a quiet flight for several days. The captain only visited the bridge a few times, usually only to pass through to his ready room. Near the end of the second day, the captain called my name as he crossed the bridge toward his ready room. I was feeling more confident and responded curtly, “Aye sir.”

He stopped at his office door, “come with me.”

I got up from the station, and another crewman took my seat. I followed Captain Sol into his room. I stopped inside the door and stood at attention in silence.

“Ensign, you’ve been on my ship for only a few days. How are you doing?” He sat down behind his desk and merely glanced up, “at ease, have a seat.”

I took a small breath, and moved forward to sit in the chair I’d fallen asleep in a few days earlier. Captain Sol looked me over one more time with a very different look in his eye. He seemed gentler than I remembered, and much less scary than the stories I’d heard. I didn’t know him enough to see through his poker face, I couldn’t tell what he might be thinking. It made me uneasy. My thoughts started to rapid fire through all the problems I’d been through since arriving.

He continued to simply look at me for a moment, “well, how are you doing?”

*Oh shit,* I thought. “I’m well sir, sorry, sir.”

He chuckled to himself. “I see things haven’t changed. What stories did you hear about me?” He set his elbows on his desk, leaned forward, and intertwined his fingers in front of his mouth.

I took a deep breath, “Stories sir?”

“Oh come now, I’ve been alive for a long time, I’ve heard many of the stories myself. Which ones were you told?”

I reluctantly told him of the time he’d nearly jettisoned a crewman from the bridge airlock because he’d hesitated during an emergency drill. I told him about the time he’d vaporized two gorn that looked at him while on Drozana Station. I told him a few more stories, including the one about how he’d traveled through time to frame a human man for a series of minor crimes just to change the future to avoid where he becomes an insubordinate executive officer. I watched as the captain’s smile grew wider and wider. Eventually, he’s laughing and helping finish the tall tales. He admitted he’d not heard the one about time travel, though, he jested, probably because the timeline had been changed.

We sat and talked for a while longer. He assured me that this was part of his protocol. He enjoyed getting to know his crew and establish clear expectations of what it means to be a member of the bridge crew. He told me that he’d selected my application from the applicant pool, and that he’d hand selected all of the officers serving on the ship. He reviewed my academy records, the recommendations from my instructors, and was pleased to find another aspiring Trill willing to explore the edges of the Federation.

We eventually arrived at the unmapped star system after detouring around the buoys marked as the “First Federation.” The target planet was a beautiful green and turquoise from the viewscreen. Our mission was to do some early reconnaissance of the planet’s surface for resources and potential colonization. With a few initial scans, the planet was simply a very blue and green class M planet.

Captain Sol invited me to join the away team, “there’s no hostiles in the area and you have to get your feet wet at some point, Ensign.” I accompanied the team to the surface.

The ground was covered in a mix of semiprecious stones, lots of blues and green materials, very large beryllium deposits spread throughout the planet’s surface. The plant life was immense with a variety of colors that sparkled with the high levels of metals absorbed into the leaves and flowers. As dusk settled on us, we noticed the borealis for the first time. Vibrant greens and reds danced a very slow dance, like a giant dragon-wurm crawling back and forth across the darkening sky.

We returned to the ship, and sent a new team to the surface in a different part of the planet. When I awoke for my shift, I was again summoned to the transporter room. Captain Sol again, personally greeted me, “Ensign, glad you are awake. We’re heading to an island near the equator of the planet. The average temperature is a bit higher than most humans can handle for long periods.”

We beamed to the island. The sands were made of emerald dust, kilometers and kilometers of emerald dust. The grounds of the cliffside were huge, long meters of exposed oxidizing pyrite with bits and scrapes that shown through in the daylight. The waters below were a deep sapphire blue. We ventured into the jungle of the island with our tricorders scanning for radiation, animal movements, and searching for usable resources.

Near the middle of the island, we found a crater lake. The edges of the crater were very steep, and the lake was some 60 meters below our current ledge. We’d found a rocky path about a quarter mile from where we first discovered the lake. Several of us were able to carefully climb down to the water’s edge. It was warm, as expected in the tropical area of most M-class planets. The vegetation around the crater had a way of capturing more of the heat, and due to the high metallic content, funneled that energy downward. We found some exposed roots of the trees from up above within the walls. Our botanist was ecstatic to discover that the trees had managed to reach so far downward for the lake’s stored water.

=/\= Sol to away team, return to the camp. There’s too much interference from the metal deposits to get a good transporter lock. =/\=

A lieutenant commander I didn’t know very well responded, “Aye sir. On our way.” He yelled out to the few crewmen collecting samples to start heading back. It took us quite a bit longer to travel up the broken path than it did to get down. I suppose gravity is funny like that? We continued to climb as the ever familiar easing of the skies that preceded the green and red light shows.

When we arrived at the transporter site, the rest of the team had gone. The Lt Cmdr tapped his combadge, “Five to beam up.”

*silence*

He tapped his badge again, “Kip to Conqueror, five to beam up.”

*silence*

I tapped my combadge, “Ildan to Conqueror, respond please.”

*silence*

One of the crewmen was watching the forestry, I think I remember him being an expert on animals. “Hey, I, I think there’s something moving out there.” We all turned in the direction he was looking. One thing we’d discovered on this planet was a lack of animals. The entire eco system was vegetation based with carnivorous plants that could shift relatively quickly for plants to take over and consume other plants. There was a motion in the underbrush maybe 40 meters in front of us. As far as we knew, none of the plants could move that quickly. The botanist and the animal expert began to move forward carefully expecting to discover yet another new and exciting animal or plant native to this island.

Suddenly, Captain Sol and two others came running from our right. They’d broken from the underbrush near the cliffs and were diving at us. Two blasts rang out from the movement we’d just spied. The two crewmen fell before us. Captain Sol tackled me to the ground just in time for another green beam to arc over the two of us. At first, I started to wrestle him off of me, but a quick hand covered my mouth, and he told me to be quiet. He kept his body pressed against mine and we both turned our heads toward the jungle. We could neither see nor be seen in our current position. We heard more energy weapon fire before hearing a muffled scream of Lt Cmdr Kip.

Captain Sol looked me in the eyes, a glance that said stay still and silent. He rolled off of me in such a way as to make barely any sound. Of course, with the blood rushing in my ears, I couldn’t hear much of anything. He crawled through the grass toward the direction of Kip. I lay there, silent and breathing with a hand over my mouth. *I’m alive, I’m alive, I’m alive, I’m alive, I’m alive* I kept repeating it over and over in my head. Images of the captain tackling me flashed through my mind. I started crying. I didn’t know what else to do, I lay there, trying not to make a sound, muffling my own sobs.

More weapon fire, then utter silence. A dark shadow loomed over me, a figure that wasn’t the captain approached. A short humanoid with a large forehead stepped up to me, he was holding a brown device that looked like a spade in his outstretched arm. I raised both my hands toward him to cover my face as I screamed in panic.

A flash of movement, and a shadow ploughed through the Ferengi. Energy weapon blasts arced green overhead. Suddenly, two intertwined bodies rolled through the grass, slamming into me. I tried to get out of the way. I’d rolled over, but struggled to find my footing as Captain Sol and the Ferengi continued to grapple. I’d finally gotten most of the ground beneath me, when a blast of green came out of the jungle 25 meters in front of me.

I staggered backward, caught a larger emerald stone with my right boot, and began to fall backward.

I fell.

Then I realized I was still falling.

It took a moment, but then it hit me, or I hit it. In a jarring and painful slam, I landed in the sapphire waters below the cliff. Just below the surface, I’d connected with some of the rocky outcropping, and ended up rolled into the depths.

I didn’t want the ignes fatui to find me, I tried to will it away. I closed my eyes tight and focused on the memories. I felt his strength again, I felt those powerful arms wrapping around me one more time.

This time the memory faded. I was sitting behind my desk. The comms chirped, =/\= We’ve arrived at Deep Space 9. =/\=

I reached up and tapped my combadge, “On my way.” I stood up from my desk, and entered the bridge. “On screen.” The image of Stonewall Fleet’s senior Admiral appeared. “Good afternoon, Nick. It’s good to see you again.” The look on his face was disappointment. “Nick, please, let me explain.” The face on the screen didn’t object, just simply nodded.

“I assume you read the report. When we arrived at the system, we found that beautiful planet relatively untouched. What we didn’t know is that Ferenginar had claimed it for the deeply buried latinum veins. They didn’t exactly announce themselves, and our away team was ambushed. We lost a few crewmembers and had ceremonies to honor them. In particular, we lost Durian.”

The memories came forward again, Sol was still explaining, but I was trying to understand the mix of emotions and images. I watched Ildan take a plasma blast to the chest and fall backward off the cliff as I fought with the ferengi in my grasp. Another ferengi came running over, and was about to fire. I rolled the pair of us just in time for my immediate attacker to take the brunt of the beam, he almost melted in my hands. With a swift kick, the second ferengi fell, and I grabbed a stone. I half rolled and jumped onto the new assailant, smashing the stone into the wrist holding the phaser. He instantly released it. A party of security team members transported into the area along with medical personnel. The battle was over.

I quickly remembered Ildan and moved to the edge of the cliff. Somewhere down below, Ildan was sinking into the waters. Transporters wouldn’t work down there. I yelled for a transporter transponder, one appeared from the ship in moments. I grabbed it, turned it on, as I dove off the cliff into the waters below. I heard yelling from behind me as I went in head first, strong searchlights began to light up the waters below.

I knew it was a risk, and it was a dangerous risk. I caught the edge of the cliffs under the water, just as Ildan had. I felt my arm snap and my shoulder began to burn. In the murky depths, I could see Ildan sinking slowly. I pushed with what little strength I had. I reached out for him, shoved the transponder into his shirt, and then tried to wrench him toward the surface. It took a moment, and we crested the waters. We both gasped for air, breathing deeply and still choking on the sapphire waters. The borealis shimmered above us. I couldn’t hold Ildan and tap my badge at the same time, I was struggling to stay awake myself. I let him go, we both began to sink again. I quickly slammed my left hand into my badge and watched as he shimmered out of the water back to the ship.

I closed my eyes. I knew what this was going to be like, I knew what was coming. I’d done this before. The water began to push against my body, my lungs burned for air, I recognized the shaking followed by the convulsions. Dark waters stopped having a temperature as Durian stopped living...

Sol recounted the important details of the mission, as well as having stayed on bed rest by the doctor’s orders. With the interference, Durian’s body could not be found in a timely manner, he was cold and the damage to his brain was irreparable even with Sol’s help. The doctor identified that Sol was dying, even as the ship traveled at maximum warp to Trill. Ildan was alive and the only Trill on the ship. An executive decision was made, and Ildan Sol was given new life.

“Let me speak to him!”
 
Pa’Squal’s opponent brushed off the remark. The two Gorn leant in to each other across subspace. Fiery looks of determination, fuelled by their arsenals, veiled hollowed threats. The rebel commander stood atop the entire Gornar planetary defence; pointed at Pa’Squal’s sole ship. Pa’Squal meanwhile had the entire Klingon fleet less than 6 hours behind him. Pa'Squal's gripped into the arms of his seat. Each of them might be sure of the choices they’d make, but neither was under the delusion they were fully in control of the situation beneath them. The rebel commander's gaze glanced off of screen; perhaps being reminded of his long-range sensor readings, or of the various units acting outside his pleas for restraint.
 
“You are a traitor to your people for supporting the Klingons” the Commander hissed “but even you would not rain fire upon your own home”.
 
“You’re right, I won’t” Pa’Squal conceded. “But the Empire will. They did it before and they’ll do it again. We stand no chance against them. The action you’re taking will kill billions of Gorn and bring us no closer to freedom”.
 
The commander cut the connection. Both knew how the conversation was going to go. They had been arguing for hours as they approached the planet. The commander was certain the situation had changed: while the Klingons were still recovering from the war, they did have sufficient resources to suppress a Gorn rebellion. What they didn’t have was political capital. Their new alliance with the Federation would be strained by any bloodshed on Gornar. They had far more pressing concerns to deal with and wouldn’t risk the Alliance for the sake of holding Gonar.
 
The greatest mistakes in history were made because leaders did not understand their opponent. There were now hundreds of worlds under the rule of the Empire: an empire that was seen to be weakened after the war. This was a test. If the High Council failed to hold Gornar then every occupied world would see an opportunity. The High Council could not flinch.
 
Pa’Squal was their only olive branch; a hero to Gorn, Klingons and the galaxy alike. Then there was another reason, muttered in the hallways before the briefing. His old, close relationship with the rebellion's leader: Stra'tas. Yet where was he and why were the rebel commanders hiding him? He had 6 hours to find out before the fleet arrived.
 
Pa’Squal signalled to his officers to follow him to the transporter room. If he was going to get to the bottom of this, he would have to do it himself. His Ferasan comm officer went through several intercepted recordings that mentioned sightings of Stra'tas on the front line in 4 separate cities along with other references to him being in hiding in the southern swamps. Pa'Squal discounted the swamps; hiding in swamps was not his style. Of the cities: Old Market, Green Bay, East Ridge and Toll Ford, the first was the most likely but it had been destroyed at the start of the uprising. That left Green Bay as the next most likely command point. As he stepped on the transporter pad, his Klingon Security Chief signalled two armed officers to prepare to beam down.
 
"Stand down, Chief" Pa'Squal signalled. "We're here to talk to them, not fight them."
 
"We cannot allow you to enter a warzone without escort, sir" the chief replied.
 
"A handful of security will do nothing to protect me against the entire rebellion. It will only aggravate them; particularly with Klingon officers." There was a concerned look in the chief’s eye, and it wasn't one of concern for Pa’Squal. "I do not doubt your ability Commander, but a civil war is the last thing the Empire needs. Trust me to deal with my own people."
 
"You will take Gorn officers then?" The Chief was pushing it, but it was an acceptable compromise. They were told to leave their weapons, and Klingon insignia, behind. Pa'Squal himself donned a neutral, Gorn styled robe to the accusatory glare of his tactical officer.
 
"We are not here to threaten them," Pa'Squal reminded his officers. "That's the job of the approaching fleet. We are here as neutral representatives to broker a cease fire." Not all were convinced; both the Gorn officers unable to countenance having to fire on their own world, and the Klingons concerned of a possible defection. In his absence, the ship was a tinderbox. He needed an envoy of his own. Pa'Squal signalled to Ferasan comm officer to approach. He removed his own rank insignia and placed on the tunic of the startled Ferasan lieutenant.
 
"Keep things together until I get back, Captain. You know what I mean."
 
The Ferasan nodded, shaking a little. He shook off his surprise and gave a solid salute to his Captain as the transport beam energised.
 
 

 
Year-293 was known on Gornar as the year of two summers. A massive solar flare hit towards the end of the year and increased the global temperature by about 10 degrees. So much sunlight reflected off the twin moons, people found it easier to sleep during the day. Pa'Squal spent most of this time swimming in Green Bay to cool off and lying naked on the gravel beach watching his old class mates riding raptors along the coast. There was one in particular, Stra'tas, who every morning at the same time would be leading a pack of cadets on a circle of the peninsular. His raptor would always be out front, his scales glistening in the sun with only a cadet corps sash around him. As he called out to his fellow cadets, he never looked back and he never looked to the beach where Pa'Squal was lying. Pa'Squal moved himself each morning in the hope of being within his line of sight. Stra'tas was focused and determined, his focus never strayed.
 
A storm came in from the dense swamps to the east, caused by the unseasonable heat. It tore open a lot of the buildings and forced the townsfolk to stay in for the first night in weeks. By the morning it had subsided and most of the townsfolk came out to help with repairs. However the cadets' raptors had left. No doubt to 'inspect' the island, but it was more that Stra'tas had always been a creature of habit. Under the scornful gaze of those repairing the hospital, Pa'Squal headed straight to the beach to catch them as they passed. After a brief swim he found an ideal spot and waited. The shadows of the trees crept along the beach and there was no sign of Stra'tas. He kept his eyes focused on the shadows ticking along with the moments. He began to pace down to the water and back and stretched his neck a little further each time to see down the coast for the approaching pack. He began to make a trail of foot prints down the beach to get a closer look and soon found he had followed the route up across the cliffs to the south east.
 
He wasn't sure at what point the pack joined the coast in their daily circuit but the tracks indicated he was still on their usual route. The damage from the storm here had obliterated much of the railings and most of vegetation. At a sharp turning, his gaze fell upon a recent landslide. The weakened ground had given way and fallen into the sea. Fresh tracks from the opposite direction stopped here. He had trouble getting a grip in the mud towards the edge of the cliff and leaned over with the upmost caution. Below he could see a number of cadets dashed on the rocks below with their raptors. A sole survivor was hanging from a branch by his sash. Just out of reach. But with some vines and a lot of luck, Pa'Squal was going to get Stra’tas back up.
 
 

 
Pa'Squal's party was met by a dozen or so raised disruptors in front of keen eyes and panicked hearts. Someone at the back gave a yell to stand down. A muddy-scaled general made his way through the crowd as they holstered their weapons. He was less than half the size of most of the others yet seemed to have the air itself standing to attention.
 
"Pa'Squal!" the general shrieked as he embraced Pa'Squal. "You've finally joined the fight, old friend? I knew you would. With the hero of the Battle of Earth on our side, nothing can stop us, eh?" The general paused, sensing the hesitation. "Not quite then. You know, old friend, all these men around you were at the Battle of Earth. They were proud to serve under such a fine commander then, and they shall be again. Next time, we shall be under the banner of Gornar!"
 
Pa'Squal tried to temper the general's eagerness as the troops listened on. Pa'Squal believed in a free Gornar. However, a direct assault would be a massacre for them. All his calls for patience and process fell to the same requests for a plan of his own, or at least a road to victory. It was not the Gorn, nor the Klingon, way to negotiate compromises and face-saving concessions. With two warrior races in conflict, there was to be only one ending; unless someone could convince both of them to talk.
 
The general was open to holding fire when the fleet arrived, if the talks would be genuine and mediated. He would recommend that to the rebel command, yet he could not act against the orders of Stra’tas.
 
“I thought Stra’tas would be here, in in Green Bay” Pa’Squal said. “It’s his home town after all, he always said he’d base himself here to protect it”.
 
“You missed him by about a week. He helped us storm the Klingon barracks here just after Old Market was bombed at the start of the rebellion. I didn’t see him myself, I’ve only just got here, but the others did. He led a charge of raptors on the compound. Once it fell he moved up to East Ridge. At least, that’s what I was told.”
 
 

 
“FOR THE KING!”
 
The troops echoed Stra’tas’ rally cry and they charged at the advancing Klingon army. They drained their disruptors dry as Klingon warriors were crushed beneath their clawed feet. The inhibitor network had fallen, but the Gorn had not. The heroes of the 4^th Regiment fought off the Klingon onslaught for 26 hours without rest. When they ran out of disruptors, they tore their enemies limb from limb and faced bat’leth blades with their bare scales. After, they drank Saurian brandy by the barrel.
 
Pa’Squal had joined up to be with Stra’tas after he rescued him from the cliff. A few days after Stra’tas pulled Pa’Squal from a toxic swamp. Each pledged to defend the other and neither entered battle alone. When the Klingon’s invaded, they fought among the stars together, Gornar’s heroic duo destroyed hundreds of Klingon ships but still they kept coming. System by system the Gorn were forced back across their space, to their homeworld. Stra’tas and Pa’Squal made their last stand.
 
East Ridge was a smouldering wreck from the orbital onslaught. They could drop as many bombs as they could muster, but they would never hit Stra’tas and Pa’Squal. They and their troop were invincible. They were loyal to Gornar and the King and would defend him to their dying breath. For the glory of Gornar, they would not contemplate surrender.
 
2 hours later, King Slathis surrendered.
 
 

 
A hail of chaotic disruptor fire struck the landing party outside East Ridge City. Pa’Squal pulled himself behind a rock and called for them to cease fire. They didn’t hear. He checked his disruptor wound. A graze on his arm, nothing serious. Looking out at his officers, one had found cover and the other had a hole in his neck. He checked the timer, 3 hours left.
 
“THIS IS PA’SQUAL OF THE 4^TH REGIMENT! HOLD YOUR FIRE” he screamed.
 
The disruptor fire petered out. A murmur spread, no doubt recognising the name of a long-dead regiment and the stories of the city. Pa’Squal stood and marched on the front gate. A lieutenant gave his apologise for the nervousness of their watch and escorted him and his surviving officer to the district commander.
 
The Commander was positioned at a barricade in the city centre. There were large numbers of Klingon’s stationed in East Ridge and it seemed pockets of resistance persisted even now. From his experience, it was less to do with heroics, as the stories indicated, and more the simple geography of the city’s streets which made it easy to defend and impossible to siege. Pa’Squal asked after Stra’tas.
 
“You and me both, Admiral” she replied. “I’ve been looking for him ever since he passed through. My troops reported him rallying our forces around the south gate as we stormed the outer defences. He’s vanished since but I had reports on the radio from my opposite in Toll Ford that he has a secret command post near his position. You understand of course that he doesn’t want to advertise his position. He paints a bulls-eye on everyone around him. The Klingon’s are desperate to take him out.”
 
After discussing the situation in the city, Pa’Squal offered to mediate a withdrawal of the Klingons. What they were holding onto was strategically worthless to both sides, but the Klingon’s had nowhere to go and were obliged not to surrender. The Commander agreed to let Pa’Squal through the barricade.
 
The Klingons were a rag-tag bunch of low ranking conscripts; no doubt hoping to prove their loyalty and honour by holding an empty warehouse for the empire. Some, he recognised from the Battle of Qo’noS. Pa’Squal sold them the evacuation to his ship as a strategic withdrawal.
 
“There is no honour in dying when your own fleet levels this planet to ash.”
 
One by one they dropped their weapons and marched into the courtyard where his remaining guard arranged their transport up. The Gorn around them stared at each of them until their commander pushed through the crowd to the Klingon’s leader. Standing in front of him, blocking the sun setting in the background, she made him look like a tiny moon circling a gas giant. Pa’Squal braced himself for the worse, but she reached out with greeting. She recognised him from the Battle of Qo'noS. One by one each of their juniors realised the same and they began chatting. Once, they had fought together as brothers. That counts for something.
 
Before they left the warehouse, he questioned the group’s intelligence officer for sightings of Stra’tas.
 
“We’ve been trying to get him since day one” the officer admitted. “The scoundrel is in hiding somewhere, I’m sure. They have a secret bunker they’re commanding everything from.”
 
It wasn’t much help, but Toll Ford was at least known for its bunker network from the original invasion. As he was leaving, the officer shouted back: “When you find him, sir. You’re going to kill him, right?”
 
 

 
“I’ll kill you, traitor!” Stra’tas cursed, throwing Pa’Squal’s belongings out of the door. “You dare show me that devil’s symbol on your arm. After all we’ve been through, all we’ve fought for and you dare sign up with them!”
 
“We can’t keep fighting the wars of yesterday. We lost, and the Klingon’s have shown their honour here. They’re not exploiting our world or enslaving our people. They freed us from the Undine and I want to help that fight. The Borg have been sighted again too. I can’t just stand by and let the Klingon’s fight our battles like that. It’s hypocritical!”
 
“Oh they’ll be happy for you to sign up, yet do you ever think you’ll be accepted as one of them? To be seen as an equal? If we’re to fight let it be as Gorn, on our own terms.” All these years, his focus has never shifted. Pa’Squal admired him for that. But it would get them all killed if it wasn’t done right.
 
“I hope we will again too. But we have to live the life we’ve been given today. Not try to rebuild everything from scratch because it is not our ideal. You’ve become obsessed by this. We used to have a life together.”
 
“The Klingons took it away.”
 
“No. You took it away.”
 
 

 
Their guide from East Ridge, and Pa’Squal’s remaining officer, had been scattered across the road side on the way to Toll Ford, thanks to Stra’tas’ unmarked mine fields. Another had caught Pa’Squal himself but the force had been taken mainly by his raptor. He gathered together the body parts, separated them from those of the raptors, and covered them on the side of the road with a marker.
 
“Not exactly full honours” he said to himself as he placed the last branch. He examined his officer’s PADD. Orders from his tactical officer, relayed from the High Council.
 
When Pa’Squal has led you to Stra’tas, eliminate both.
 
He reached for his communicator to order his tactical officer’s execution. Yet he couldn’t be sure how many were on his side up there. Letting them know their insurance policy has been eliminated could precipitate the conflict. Right now, radio silence was the best option. His goal was still unchanged. Peace and a free Gornar. Only now, he has less than an hour.
 
Toll Ford was now too far away on foot and Pa’Squal had the distinct feeling he was being played with. Everywhere he went all he got was second hand information, guesses and tales. There was one place nobody told him to check however. Old Market. It could still be used as a base, even if it the town was destroyed early on.
 
It took him about half an hour to reach Old Market. It was a shattered ruin. Once, it was a thriving town that had become an early centre of resistance. When protests began there, the Klingon’s bombed it from orbit with the aim of stamping out any notion of rebellion. Instead, the death toll horrified the Gorn and sparked all-out war.
 
Husks of buildings lined the avenues like ashen hands grasping up from the smouldering ground. He hurried through the cinders burning in the low light of the evening for any sign of life as the sun set beneath the distant horizon.
 
He approached the central square. There, hundreds of bodies were scattered amid the rubble that once formed statues of mighty Gorn heroes. The ashes of their protest banners caked the sole of his boots. Pa'Squal checked the timer on his communicator. 1 minute to go. 1 minute until his homeworld was ash on the Empire’s boot.
 
He had placed too much faith in finding one man. Was the war even the real reason he was looking for Stra’tas? His communicator bleeped. His crew wanted to beam him up. The call went unanswered. He screamed out for Stra’tas, a hopeless act of desperation, and collapsed on the steps among assorted corpses. Noticing a flask amid the pile he reached in and spun the cap off. He took a quick shot: Saurian brandy. Good stuff too. He glanced back at the corpse he took it from. It was Stra’tas.
 
Pa'Squal chuckled to himself. The grand leader of the rebellion never saw a day of it. Heroes are never the mortals they are based on. His ship was walling. His chuckle gave way to a scream. He buried his head in his hands as his timer started bleeping. This ship was calling. A thousand new stars appeared in the night sky above him. Streaks of light immediately rose from the forests around him; angels ascending to the stars. His ship was calling. Pa'Squal snapped himself out of his mourning and rose to his feet. He threw the communicator aside and roseraised the bitter-sweet flask to the stars of death above him.
 
"To Stra’tas! To his glorious rebellion!"
 
One by one the angels struck the new stars. Flashes of light filled the night sky like firecrackers. From those remaining, red balls of fire began to descent on the world. On every city. Including Old Market, ruin as it was. Pa'Squal looked to his fallen comrade beside him.
 

"Looks like we'll be together again soon."

Only TWO days remain in the #TalesofTragedy writing contest! Be sure to get your entries in before May 1st, 2017! Good luck to all!

"Four ships approuching from port, secondary power relay on deck 2 is gone, we have hull breaches, warp drive is down. Civillian craft is making for the incoming raiders, their weapons are offline, shields seem to be rerouted to only foward arc. Husband they are going to ram them." M'Freya looked from from her mother standing at tactical to the view screen, a ship roughly the size of a bird of prey streaked past them arcing towards the four oncoming raider ships. Pulses of emerald disruptor fire hammered into the ships forward shields. They buckled after a second, cutting swaths into her hull. The civillian defence ship that had looked to be made of a pod with wings branching off in every direction tore through the hull of the first raider. The ships central section erupting in flame before exploading sending her wings and sections of the raiders ship crashing into the other three. Two of them becoming their own blazing balls of fire, the third just drifted lifelessly past the Wotan. There was silence on the bridge before shouting began again, with a section of wall exploding showering the bridge crew in sparks and smoke. The Wotan shaking hard from weapons fire. P'valla shouted from tactical that ventral plating was gone. The last of the raiders ships was looming before them, and old Orion slaver ship. Her hull breached and burning in places.


The hum of transporters started filling the air. J'prurr jumped from the captains chair, an old type 2 phaser in hand. The first of the raiders materialized his weapon moving up to aim. A streak of blue light pierced his chest throwing the alien back. Pivoting on his feet J'prurr fired off two more times crumpling an Orion and wounding another. A beam of scarlet shot over his shoulder hitting a klingon in the chest behind her father. The towering man stumbled, hefting his weapon to swing it down at M'Freya. She closed her eye hearing a muffled grunt and the feeling of something wet hitting her face.


Her eyes opened seeing her fathers body blocking her from the Klingon, his bladed weapon lodged into her fathers chest with one of the piercing ends protruding through his back. The last of his strength was spent pushing the phaser to the Klingons chest, a blue streak ripping from his back and pounding into the bulkhead behind him. Both slumped to the floor. She was frozen there as silence fell for her, turning M'Freya saw rage, blind rage in her mothers eyes. Scarlet beams ripped out into three more raiders one dropping near her without a head. Her mother had disruptor burns on her arm and chest. With the one good uninjured arm she shook M'Freya.


"Helm, man the helm get us away from them." She nodded weakly turning and fumbling over the controls till her eyes locked onto the view screen. "They have a tractor beam on us." Her mothers voice was shallow, fingers moved over controls. The Vulcan womans features fell her face turned towards her daughter. "Save the ship, save who you can.... I love you Daughter." Her mothers fist slammed into the control panel. Turning her head quickly to the screen as streaks of tealish plasma beam ripped into the breached sections of the Orion ships hull. The tractor beam vanished, M'Freyas relfexes moving the ship away with all the power she had left as the other ships began to tear itself apart. She never saw the explosion of the tactical console or her mothers body hitting the bulkhead behind her station. She heard it, and in her mind later formed the image to fit the sound. The young woman turned in her seat looking blankly at the spot where her mother had been standing. A scream started to rip from her throat.


M’Freya woke with a start, another nightmare; the same nightmare. She peered at the console, weary of life and the months of warp travel returning to Earth. The old Oberth class starship S.S. Wotan sailed silently threw the stars, her decks void of life save for the young girl of Caitian and Vulcan heritage, that rested slumped over the helm. The ship rigged for steady autonomous operation for the duration of the trip. The ship was M’Freyas home, the place of her birth and the death of the caitians parents. Both scientists, her mother a Vulcan observer from the federation and her father the owner of the starship a civilian deep space exploration leader.
The Wotan was crewed sparsely; her mission set for twenty years in five year increments based from the federations furthest most colonies in the Beta Quadrant. Over the duration of the mission the crew had become a close knit family everyone contributing to some of M'Freya's upbringing. Assigned to a devoloping deepspace station giving a federation presence in the middle of the Wotan's mission. In the seventeenth year of the mission tragedy befell the ship with an attack from colony raiders. The Wotan joined three other ships to battle the raiders, the older ship giving enough fight to make even the most confident of captains worry. She was joined by two civillian defence ships that had been purchased by the colony from Ferengi merchants.
In the years spanning the mission; the Wotan had received several updates purchased by her captain to better suit the region of space. Her old type six phasers replaced with Xindi made plasma arrays, her torpedo compliment exhausted years prior; now fitted with clusters of missiles purchased from Ferangi traders. She was fighting well, but well could last only so long with the numbers they faced. By the battles end her crew was a third less. M’Freyas parents among those that lost their lives in the fray. The Wotan and other defending starships won the day; though at a high cost of lives.
It was a year before she would be ready to leave for Earth with the aid of her parents Star Fleet contact who sponsered her entrance into the fleet; passing her entrance exam with aid from both the remaining crew and colony who continued to house her and fund repairs to the Wotan for the service it had provided. As the ships owner and now Captain she refused to leave the sector till a Star Fleet replacement vessle arrived. The voyage would be long with the remainder of the ship’s crew departing slowly along the tip till the final member left a few weeks prior to arriving at Earth. The ship was a ghost of her former inviting self, the moments of laughter from the young M’Freya followed by the eventual puzzled scowl of her mother; before her father would chuckle softly from the captain’s chair. Moments like those flashed in her memory, drawing smiles and tears from the young caitian.
The computers voice broke her from the string of memories, her voice filling the void of the bridge.
“Approaching the Terran system.”
M’Freya shifted sitting upright at the helm, her slender fingers moving over the old ships controls dropping her down to warp one. Transferring helm and most other bridge controls to the captain’s chair, she hesitated for a long moment before finally taking the seat. Since the day she lost her family she had gone to great lengths to avoid that chair. Now it was time for her past, her family and the ghost of that day to remain behind her in space. The Wotan was her ship, she was the Captain by all rights and soon she would be an officer in Starfleet. Her hand moved over a set of controls in the chairs armrest a soft chirp from the system acknowledging her.


“Starfleet control this is the S.S. Wotan civilian Science and Exploration vessel. I am requesting permission to dock.” Silence lingered for a moment before a youthful man’s voice came over the com.
“Wotan you are cleared for approach vector 005 civilian docking bay two of Starbase 1… Welcome back.” The channel closed and within the hour the Wotan was safely moored in the massive starbase.
M’Freya departed the ship her single bag of possessions slung over a shoulder, and a second bag of data pads clutched at her side. She stood outside the docking doors for her ship, setting one bag down she patched herself into the ships computer giving the order to power down all systems. Unsure she would be returning to the ship, or if this was goodbye M’Freya looked behind her once before entering the lift leaving the docking bay. The lift shot her quickly stopping as needed for personnel to come and go, eventually she arrived at the cluster of command decks. Navigating the maze of corridors and offices she found Captain Millians office.
Millian was the contact officer assigned to the Wotan, over the years he had befriended her family and over that last year spent a great deal of time working with the young Caitian. He had been waiting to hear word of the ships arrival, waiting to meet M'Freya in person finally. He was on the man that sponsored M’Freya’s entrance into Starfleet, and help the young woman build a new life. She strolled into the office standing still for a long moment before the bemused human stood coming around his desk and embraced the young Caitian.


“My dear, it’s good to finally meet you in person mi girl. I was starting to think something happened along the way here.” Stepping back from her gauging the surprised and then neutral face of M’Freya, resting his hands on the front of his desk.
“And you sir, I just finished docking the Wotan in the lower docking bays, and I have brought you all of her reports, logs, and final mission assessment. I am looking forward to starting fresh on Earth sir.” He studied her for a moment before taking the hefty bag of data pads; he could already see the kind of officer she may become in the future. Weighing things in his mind for a moment before asking, “Have you chosen a course of study and which path you plan to take at the academy?” Her response was quick with no hint of heavy emotion just determination “Command sir no other particular fields of study interest me.” He nodded before retaking his seat behind the desk.
Taking a moment to organize the bag of Data pads before reaching for one he had tucked away at the corner of his desk. Giving a thumb print to it before leaning forward to offer it to M’Freya, her body moving forward enough before reaching out and taking the pad. Her eyes scanning over it before looking up to meet Captain Millians own.


“Thank you sir, I won’t disappoint you.” Her body language was a little more at ease now, with her long tail flicking behind her. Millian watched amused silently, his cheerful voice filling the space between them.
“I am sure you will cadet, Take that pad to the warren officer on deck 10 and she will get you set up right, and as to that personal request from you I have cleared it with the academy. You are going to stand out M’Freya, the only cadet to have captain a starship, and own her own to boot. This may not make you many friends to begin and some false ones if you are not careful. Hold onto that sentimental side of yourself as well, it will serve you well. Dismissed and good luck.” M’Freya gave a crisp “Sir” starting to turn and leave before stopping with her shoulders slumping. She didn't turn to face him fully wanting to keep a stream of tears from being seen. “Thank you Captain, my parents thought highly and you and... and you have been a good friend to me sir. I wont let you down.” She left before a reply could be given.
The hum of the transporter faded away with the last few sparkles of the matter beam, depositing M’Freya in one of the Academies transporter rooms, her uniform clung a little tighter than she thought it would, the Caitian opted to remain barefoot feeling that the issued boots tripped her up a little too much. Her bag slung back over a shoulder now with a holster and an old type II phaser resting in it. Something that had to be argued for, and made as a personal request, the old phaser having been her fathers and the weapon he held when saving her life the day she lost him. She had promised herself to never let it go. Nodding to the transporter operator before leaving the room and finding herself a little lost the adventure awaiting her now just beginning.

THE BIGGER THE SMILE THE SHARPER THE KNIFE

"You have to get her off the ship", she yelled. "This ship isn't the adequate environment for a kid to grow up. Believe me, I grew up on a ship like this. It was not a pleasure to me."
Numoshkar shook her head: "But it's an assault they're planning! What if something goes wrong? What if they were forced to shoot their way out? What if Nunk gets his dirty little hands on this? His punishment won't be merciful, you know that. Do you really think we can keep Ardita out of all that mess?"
"Be assured, I will protect Ardita at all costs and by all means. I am a skilled assassin by myself, you know." Onara gently took Numoshkar's hands into hers and whispered: "She won't get hurt, I promise. We all will get into safety, no one will get hurt or left behind. But Tar's plan is our only chance, and I'm willing to take the risk."
"I hope you're right", Numoshkar said. "I really hope you're right."

Nunk was obviously nervous as he walked up and down in the main bar of his casino ship. It was not as big as it could be, but it was the best he could afford - yet. Perhaps things would change if he was able to make a deal with the Ferengi he was waiting for. Sleg, the creditworthy heir of the Sleg-o-Cola cooperation wanted a day, or better a night off for himself and his crew. He was late though, he should have arrived since two hours. Hopefully nothing bad had happened to him and his ship.
"What do you think of this dress? Is that good enough for you?", Leosa asked. She was one of Nunk's favorite Dabo girls, and for a human female she was a really pretty one. He was hoping that Sleg would appreciate her much, because as far as he knew, Sleg graduated at the human Star Fleet Academy and it was rumored he had a hunch for human females in clothes.
"No, it's still too much. Get rid of that cape, and change the color to red", Nunk shouted. "What's the need of all that beauty you have if you don't show it? And hurry, he could arrive any minute now!"

"What's taking so long? You said you could operate this ship with a skeleton crew! Whats the matter?", Sleg asked his first engineer impatiently.
"As I told you before, warp 9.2 is maintainable for 12 hours only. The Miranda class isn't made for high velocity flight, it's a tiny science ship!", the engineer answered.
"Do your best, please. We're already late. Bridge out", Sleg answered. He wished he had hired more mercenaries, or better, he had stolen a bigger ship. But the Miranda he had chosen was the best option so far to reach Nunk and his casino freighter.

Time was running out, if he wanted to see his beloved deltanean female again. Tar N'Schaalon was her name, and they had met during his last vacation on Risa. Two wonderful days together, walking around on the shores, both enjoying the forbidden fruits of their society. They shared sensual experiences of diverse kinds and got lost in long conversations about elegance in female fashion, erotic sensual games and the meaning of life as a sensual revelation, far beyond the celibate ideals of Delteans as well as the monetary frame of mind of the ferengi culture. Sleg spent a small fortune hand over fist without even thinking about profits while sunbathing in completely rain-free beaches. When she finally told him that she was in debt-slavery to a ferengi called Nunk, who just allowed her a few days off while he was waiting for guests to pick up on his casino cruise around the stars, and how awful her life aboard the ship of Nunk was, he promised to get her off the ship and out of the reach of her Ferengi master.

What she didn't know, and what nobody knew so far, he actually did not possess the latinum to buy her out. Sleg-o-Cola, the business Sleg was running, had run totally dry, there were no funds left. It was only a name, the factory wasn't producing any lemonade any longer, as he wasn't able to pay his employees. Sleg wasn't a business man, he never had those 'ears for business' and he really didn't know what to do with his family heritage. His plan to free Tar was nothing more than a good bluff - a bluff which could work if the so-called "Orion Slave Freeing Force" he had aboard would do a good job.

The OSFF was a descendant of the T'Prar Foundation, which freed Orion slave girls in the late 23rd century. It was operated by Deltans, who were immune to the Orion pheromones. Sleg had hoped that the Deltans would try to free one of their own kind, and he was right. The OSFF agreed to help him freeing Tar N'Schaalon and the other slave girls upon Nunks casino-ship free of charge, if he could provide them with a star-ship to get there. Sleg complied to their demands, taking the only ship he could get: the ship he was appointed for his first in-field command after the final exam in his science course at Star Fleet Academy, where he was enlisted studying applied shield harmonics. He knew his career would end with this theft, but his love was worth the risk.

"Daimon Nunk, there is a ship approaching. It is a Starfleet vessel", the voice in the communicator said. Nunk was not a real Daimon, but he insisted to be called that way aboard his ship. He thought it was impressive for his customers, not knowing that most of them didn't know what a Daimon was.
"Get the Nausicaan guards to the airlock, quick. I'll be there in a minute!", he answered. "Leosa, are you ready?"
Leosa took his arm under hers, looking really gorgeous in that expensive red dress made of Tholian silk. Nunk nodded satisfied, and they went to the airlock to wait for the heir of the great Sleg-o-Cola Cooperation.

"Ardita, if anything happens you stay with aunt 'Nara, please. Do you understand?", Numoshkar asked her daughter.
"But what should happen, mum? You said we are just taking a little holiday trip", Ardita replied. Just a few days ago had been her seventh birthday, and her mother promised her they would take a shore-leave trip to celebrate.
"Nothing will happen my dear, but just in case...", said her mum, trying not to look too scared.
"It's because uncle Nunk doesn't want us to go, am I right?", Ardita asked, smart as she was.
"Don't call him uncle, he doesn't belong to our family", Numoshkar answered.
"We have to go now, I think Tar is already waiting. Time to move!", said Onara, as she hid two small daggers in her skirt.

"Are you ready?", Sleg asked the two Gorn mercenaries he hired to support the Deltans. According to their plan, he and the Gorns should provide a distraction at the airlock while the Deltans would beam the slave girls off the ship. Simple, but effective, the only flaw he could find in this plan was himself in the middle of the action. Now would be the time to see, if the Star Fleet Combat Training was worth anything, and if not, he hoped that the Gorns would bail him out. Anyways, the airlock in front of him re-pressurized, and would open soon. Time to become a hero, Sleg thought.

Tar N'Schaalon waited in front of the shuttle-bay doors, with a sleeping Nauiscaan guard beneath her feet. It was not too difficult for her to hypo-spray the guard, as she was the leading nurse on Nunk's ship. Before that she used to be a Dabo girl and also Nunk's favorite female. But that was long ago, before Leosa got on the ship, taking this role from her. Leosa was on the quest to get rich, and she was willing to serve under a Ferengi for a while to reach that goal. Tar was not sorry for the change, as she hated being a Dabo girl as much as she hated being a favorite female for a Ferengi slave master. Never again Oomox with that puny little Ferengi Nunk, that was what she promised to herself every day.

As the airlock doors opened, a big blast of light and fire hit the corridor behind it. Smoke filled the room, and nobody was able to see anything. One of Nunk's Nausicaans guards laid unconsciousness on the floor, while the other was instantly firing with his disruptor into the airlock, not knowing if he was going to hit anybody. Nunk was yelling in a very high uncomfortable pitch, while Leosa tried to get on her feet again. The Gorn had thrown a thermal stun grenade through the airlock, as soon as it opened. Sleg waited behind, hoping everything would turn out the right way, while the Gorns prepared themselves to board the ship.

The three green women headed through the corridor to reach the shuttle-bay. They saw Tar at the end of the corridor waiting, waving with one hand. A Nausicaan lay in front of her on the ground. Suddenly and unexpected a door opened and an almost seven foot tall Nausicaan stepped out.
"What is that...", the Nausicaan wondered, seeing the Deltean female and the shuttle-bay guard lying on the floor right in front of him and the three approaching Orion females on the left. Immediately he wielded his jagged sword, shouting "Now you have Guramba!"
"Run, Moshka, run!", yelled Onara, as she took out one of her daggers. Too fast for the Nausicaan to see she made a handspring while she threw her dagger in the middle of the jump. The knife hit him in the back of his sword-hand causing him to loose his sword that clanked to the floor. Back on her feet Onara took a new run-up to flip again and to slide through between the legs of the surprised Nausicaan. While Numoshkar and Ardita passed the guard, Onara grabbed both his upper legs to swing herself right behind him. With the elegance of a typical Orion dancer she managed to land on his shoulders, and as she twisted her legs a faint cracking noise was the last sound for the Nausicaan to hear. With a broken neck he fell aground.

"Sleg, can you hear me? Please, come in!" Slegs communicator beeped in a very unpleasant situation. The guard in front of him had just stopped the shooting, probably to get a new aim. The smoke was gone and so was the cover for Sleg. Ready to face the entrance of the golden treasury Sleg prepared himself to die. Right in this moment the two Gorn warriors jumped in front of him with a giant leap, thus smashing the guard right onto the wall of the corridor. He groaned as he fell down.
"Hello mister Nunk", Sleg said with new confidence. "I'm Sleg from Sleg-o-Cola, ready to have some fun. Where are the dabo tables?"
"If you think you can get away with that", the Ferengi Nunk answered as he found his voice back, "I assure you there are at least twenty Nausi.."
Nunk wasn't able to finish his sentence. A big Gorn fist had suddenly ended the conversation between the two Ferengis.

"Ah, at last, you've made it", Tar said, "we have to hurry. We have to get into position near the shuttle-bay force-fields, it's the only place where the ships shields are weak enough. They'll beam us out any second now."
Tar, Onara, Numoshkar and Ardita entered the shuttle-bay. So far everything went well, and Numoshkar began to believe that Tar's risky plan might actually work. None of them noticed that the nausicaan guard on the floor was already waking up again.

Slegs communicator beeped again. "Hey Sleg, come in please. We need your help!"
"Sleg here. Whats the matter?"
"Ah, I'm very sorry, sir, but somebody on the ship managed to activate a scrambler. We can't beam them out! You have to deactivate that thing."
"You are kidding, aren't you? I'm here with only two Gorns. How should I do that, hm?"
"Oh, we localized it. The scrambler is on the bridge. There are only three bio-signs there. You can do it."
Before Sleg was able to answer, one of the Gorn handed him a phaser-rifle. "Come on, lets go", he sizzled.

"That's far enough", the Nausicaan guard shouted. He pointed his disruptor right in the direction of the females hiding in one corner of the shuttle-bay.
"One by one, step out and lay down on the floor. I won't repeat this order!", he grunted.
"Do as he said", whispered Onara to the others. "Keep Ardita behind. I'll handle him."
Onara slowly moved out of their cover. She knew exactly how to move to attract the attention of the Nausicaan. He slanted his head a little to the side, not knowing what was happening. Onara started humming with a soft voice as she raised one of her arms. Binding his view with her arm twisting, she delicately fetched her last dagger with the other hand. Ready for her final move she opened the knot of her neck-holder shirt, which fell slowly to the ground. Before the Nausicaan believed what he saw she threw her dagger with a swift move, hitting him right between his eyes.

It ended much faster than it had begun. As soon as the turbo-lift reached the bridge of the casino ship, the two Gorn warriors cleared the bridge. They were moving fast, and nobody on the bridge expected two raging Gorn stepping out of the lift. The three Ferengi weren't able to put up a fight, and so everything was over before Sleg fired one shot with his rifle. He quickly disabled the scrambler and lowered the shields of the ship. "All clear, you can beam them out now. Copy that, please", he shouted in his communicator.
"Ah sir, we have a problem here. We can't get a lock-on. We're working on the problem."
"What do you mean? You said it would be easy. We don't have the whole day, you know."
"You can try to beam them from there. We located a transporter in the shuttle-bay. Perhaps this will work."
Sleg wasn't feeling very well. This plan differed a little from what he had imagined. For a moment he thought he was part of a bad science fiction series of the old 20th century earth. We can't get a lock-on...

Sleg and the Gorns hurried to get to the shuttle-bay. They were intercepted at two instances by guards of the ship, but they managed to slip through, although one of the Gorns suffered a disruptor hit on his left arm, and the other was hit by a knife of a Chalnoth. The plan was slowly getting out of hand. Nobody knew that the casino-ship had a coating which inhibits transporter lock-on's, to prevent anything or anyone to be beamed off the ship. The only way to beam out was the transporter in the shuttle-bay.

Finally Sleg and the Gorns arrived at the shuttle-bay. "Tar, my love, I said I would get you out of here", he welcomed Tar and the others.
"Slegily, oh my, you kept your word", Tar said as they fell into each others arms.
"We've got no time to loose", one of the Gorns mentioned. "Get us out of here!"
"Okay, get in position. I'll activate the auto transport", Sleg said.
Within seconds, everyone was spread about the five transporter panels. The two Gorn took the places to the left and right. Onara pushed Numoshkar and her daughter to the spot in the rear, where Numoshkar held her little daughter tightly pressed to her side. Onara and Tar stood on the forward positions.
"Hurry, darling," Tar exclaimed, signaling Sleg to come over and share her panel.
"I have entered the coordinates but somehow I can't activate the auto-transport-subroutine..." Sleg replied and he felt like everything was running through his fingers like sand. Suddenly he heard a voice behind him: "There is no auto-transport function. You have to operate the transporter by yourself", Nunk said triumphantly.
A shriek of unpleasant surprise escaped Slegs mouth before he jumped over to the transporter panel, securing himself behind the gorn fighter to the right. Nunk had recovered in the meantime, and instead of a woman in a red dress he had several heavily armed guards with him. They were now in a direct stand-off with the two gorn fighters who had their weapons ready to fire on Nunk.
"You're going nowhere," Nunk grinned, "so let's be reasonable. Put your guns down and we won't kill the child."
"No, this will end here", Onara said and before Sleg or anyone else could start to argue, she slid over to the dead nausicaan guard on the ground, took his sword and stepped over to the console.
"No, aunt 'Nara, no", the little Ardita screamed. But it was too late. Onara had already pressed the button.


Please note: Onara, Ardita and Sleg are all Ingame Characters that we play. Nunk and Leosa are from the Star Trek Voyager episode "Inside Man", that we enjoy alot. Hope you had fun reading this 'Tale of Tragedy' !
For an image look here:
The bigger the smile the sharper the knife

Thank you to everyone who entered the #TalesofTragedy writing contest!  The contest is now closed.  We'll be reading through everyone's amazing entries and will announce the winners during the week of May 8th!  Good luck to all!

Sadly I didn't manage to finish my story in time, but good luck to all participants! :)

hmm some good reads to ponder over

interesting

This is me reading the entries... *grabs tissue*

Ask, and ye shall cry.

You brought this upon yourself, and that is the greatest tragedy of all.

I saw this and couldn't help but imagine that this would be @LarsAKALordZandor while reading the entries :D

Completely true :P

Stonewallers: We're super excited to announce the winners of the Stonewall Character #TalesofTragedy writing contest!  Thank you to @GXV3 and @Jacien who helped me judge all of the amazing entries!  Each of us individually scored each of the entries in the categories of creativity, detail and impact.  The average of all three of our opinions was then used to produce a final score.  All of your submissions were amazing to read and really tugged at our heart strings in true tragic fashion!  Thanks so much for once again sharing your creativity with the group and we can't wait to run the next writing contest in a few months time.

The writers of our top three ranked entries will be contacted within the next day to arrange for delivery of prizes!  All of our other contestants will be awarded TWO Stonewall credits, which can be redeemed for in-game loot through our Stonewall Credit Store!

Click the link below to reveal the winners and read everyone's entries!