Star Trek: Gifts of the Gods (standard:Fan Fiction, 1559 words) [1/2] show all parts
Author: Trek Fan	Updated: Jun 29 2003	Views/Reads: 3295/2147	Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
The first part of an original series adventure that I'm planning to submit to the Strange New Worlds competition later this year, so I could really use some feedback.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

pointed across the small room, to a dark corner where a series of 
crates were stacked and covered by a grease-stained tarp. From the 
light of a torch nailed into one of the wooden support columns, Pike 
noticed a great deal of blood splattered across the woman's gray tunic. 


The second miner moaned, having obviously sustained serious battle
damage as well, but managed to get out a few intelligible words before 
keeling over. “She's right, Captain...the artifacts are all that 
matter...” He hit the floor hard as he fell over. 

“Captain, this man is dead.” Spock had moved over the fallen miner and
felt for a pulse, but dropped the man's limp arm back to the cold floor 
after having found none. “Fascinating...” Spock's right eyebrow arched 
as he leaned closer to the deceased body. “Captain, I see no 
indications of physical trauma on this miner other than minor cuts and 
bruises. It is illogical that he--” 

The phaser blasts echoing through the outside corridor were definitely
drawing closer now, and Pike shook his head. “Forget him, Spock, are 
there any other miners down here?” 

Spock flipped his tricorder back on, ran a quick scan, shook his head.
“Negative, Captain, I am reading no life forms other than those in this 
room and the two security guards in the outside corridor. As I 
mentioned before, the alien aggressors are not registering on any 
sensor readings.” 

“Pike to Enterprise, get us out of here now!” 

The female miner screamed. Her long, blueberry blonde hair fell away
from her thin face and revealed a pair of large, hypnotizing eyes. 
Pike's last thoughts in that chamber were how beautiful the woman was, 
fighting to hold onto whatever was in those crates, fighting with what 
energy she had left to fight with. Her final movement had been in the 
general direction of those mysterious artifacts, an act of desperation, 
or of neurosis resulting from exhaustion, or both. He hated to give the 
order that would tear her away from whatever it was she was trying to 
salvage, but he had been in this position too many times before to 
second guess his decision. He watched as she and the rest of the 
landing party froze and dematerialized in a cascade of silver sparkles, 
the slight hum of the transporter beam music to his ears. 

16 years later... 

Captain's Log: Stardate 4119.2. The Enterprise is en route to Shroud IV,
a planet notorious for illegal trading and black market selling of 
weapons, intelligence information, and ornery pests outlawed throughout 
the rest of the quadrant. Shroud is located inside the 
Romulan/Federation neutral zone, which makes it accessible to an 
endless array of cutthroats and mercenaries from both sides. The 
Federation has a strict policy against visiting the planet except under 
dire circumstances. In this case, we have been ordered to investigate a 
claim concerning the sale of Federation security codes, a crime 
punishable by life in a rehabilitation camp or dilithium mine. The 
perpetrator in question is none other than the infamous Harcourt Fenton 
Mudd, better known simply as Harry Mudd, who has been apprehended 
several times before for similar crimes but has escaped punishment. 
Should Harry Mudd be found on Shroud IV, we have orders to apprehend 
him and transport him to Earth for trial. Shroud IV has proven itself 
hostile toward the Federation in the past, and I have no reason to 
expect a warm welcome on this mission. 

Captain James T. Kirk drummed his fingers on the armrest of his command
chair, staring blankly at the multicolored stars as they whipped by at 
warp speed on the forward viewscreen. The bridge of the Enterprise 
always gave him a feeling of reassurance, with her white walls filled 
with vast starmaps and display screens, the bright red of the trim and 
turbolift door, and the various command stations manned by the finest 
crew that Starfleet could ever dream of. Still, just knowing that his 
ship was headed for a destination deep within the Romulan neutral zone 
set him on edge. Kirk listened to the various beeps and chirps 
emanating from all around him, unconsciously checking off each system 
in his head as he did so. He knew every sound that his bridge was 
capable of making, both good and bad, and sat back in his chair a 
little more comfortably now. If he could be certain of nothing else, at 
least he could take some comfort in knowing that all of Enterprise's 
systems were operating properly. 

“Captain, we are within visual range of Shroud IV. Sensors indicate
various small freighters and cargo ships in orbit around the planet, 
but nothing capable of presenting a threat to us at this time. We 
should assume, however, that a Romulan warship is positioned under 
cloak somewhere nearby. It his highly unlikely that they would remain 
unaware of the presence of a Federation heavy cruiser entering the 
Neutral Zone.” Spock pushed away from his science station and watched 
the reddish planet growing like a Tiberian Death Rose in its 
terrarium—the forward viewscreen. 


Tweet