ghiaman74

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About ghiaman74

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  1. I have never participated in a sim, but I do write fan fiction. Here is a description of the ship in my current fanfic. Name: USS Nightingale Class: Hippocrates Crew: 100 (80 are medical personnel) Mission: Hospital Ship Weapons: 2 Phaser arrays Defensive systems: Standard Federation Shields Sensor systems: Standard package Warp: Warp Factor 7.6 Impulse: Full Impulse Maneuverability: Poor From Nightingale’s Song: “The runabout was now heading directly towards the Nightingale’s stern where the shuttle bay was nestled in between the ships two impulse engines. The USS Nightingale, a Hippocrates class hospital ship, Jordan thought it looked like a box with warp nacelles. The main hull was a kind of cylinder cut in half lengthwise. The flat of the half cylinder was the dorsal side of the ship. Sprouting out of the four corners of the dorsal hull were struts supporting the port and starboard warp nacelles. The nacelles were long, matching the length of the main hull. Stuck on the front of the ship, almost as an after thought, was the semi-ellipse that held the bridge and gave away the Nightingale as a Federation ship.”
  2. Trekzone, it does seem rare that topics in the fanfic forums get many replies.
  3. I think your best bet would be to write the pilot yourself, and drum up interest based on your unique idea for the post DS9 universe. As a writer of fan fiction, I can tell you that writing stories based on other people's ideas is not all that appealing. Mainly because I am bubbling over with ideas of what I would like to see happen in the Star Trek universe (as I am sure you are too). If you are going to bring in writers to write stories guided by your own creativity, it would probably be a good idea to get the writers excited about your ideas by providing some sort of pilot to the series written in your own hand. I hope I'm not discouraging you, but if you feel strongly about the stories you have inside you, let them out. If they excite people's imaginations, you will be able to get writers. With the fanfic serial I am currently working on, I actually had a couple of people ask if they could write an installment (and I had never asked for any help on the story). Good luck, and good writing.
  4. Very entertaining so far.
  5. This season is freakin awesome. Paramount is destine to take another $100 of my money when this comes out on DVD.
  6. I don't think Picard would talk. He would not want to give information that could hurt many members of starfleet to save one. I could see Picard lieing to the Romulans, promising to give them information only after Weseley was released.
  7. What does everybody think of the story? Good, bad, just plain ugly? Any feedback is appreciated.
  8. The Haunting By Ghiaman74 It was dark. No light or console even attempted to resist the darkness. Power to the corridor had been severed. Even the crimson strips that should have been glowing under the red alert had gone dead. Debris littered the corridor. Cables and wires burst out of the bulkheads and hung down from the ceiling. The smooth panels that had once concealed them were now a mangled mass of metal strewn across the deck. It was dark, but Jean Luc’s eyes had adjusted. The horrific sight of his injured Enterprise was a stark contrast to the only dim source of light, the strikingly beautiful starscape pouring in from the massive gash in the ship’s hull. The thick wall of duranium , the precious shell that protected the delicate interior of the ship had been stripped away. Now nothing stood between Picard and the great void. Nothing, as he stood there aghast at the damage and in awe of the stars. The stars did not twinkle in space. Without the interference of a planet’s atmosphere they stared back at Picard like a billion unblinking eyes. They bored into his soul angrily searching for an answer. “Are you worthy of this?” The stars demanded. Jean Luc could almost here them. It was dark, but still a shadow fell across the captain in what dim light there was. An object crossed his line of sight, eclipsing billions of far away suns. It was a man. He wore a Starfleet uniform and floated only feet away in the dead of space. Jean Luc studied the man’s face. It was young, far younger than the captain could remember being. His eyes were open staring back, unblinking. A solitary gold pip was affixed to the man’s collar. He was an ensign once, one of Picard’s junior officers with bright hopes and endless potential. Once, but no longer. The man had reached the end of his potential, and his hopes had gone dark. The cold of space set in. With the pressure of artificial atmosphere gone the water in the Ensign’s body began to vaporize. His blood began to boil and burst out of his skin, freezing in little droplets as it did. His eyes began to bulge, looking through the furious red mist of frozen blood at Picard. The Ensign’s stare boring into the Captain deeper, deeper, deeper… “Are you worthy of this?” The Ensign’s eyes burst. Two steams of a frozen crimson fog flowed from the now hollow sockets. Its momentum carried the mist forward. It felt chilly as it brushed by Picard’s face. “I can feel it.” Picard thought. “No consoles, no lights, no power!” The realization came to his mind. “No power, no force field, no air!” He now felt the pressure on this throat, and his chest. He tried to inhale deeply, but no air came. He turned, he scrambled for the turbolift door, but his feet left the ground. “No gravity!” He flailed about, but there was nothing to push off, nothing to grab, nothing… Jean Luc was in another room. It was dark, but not like the last one. There was power, there was air. The lights were not on, but the consoles flickered on and off, small fires flickered underneath some of the consoles filling the air with the punjant smell of burnt insolation, and a pulsating light of blue and red came from one end of the room in a column. “The warp core!” “Where are we?” A voice came, it was familiar. It was slightly nasal, and even more accusing. “Main Engineering.” Picard answered. He looked back and forth, and behind him. No one… “Who’s there?” Picard called. There was a brilliant explosion of light that made the Captain squint and turn away. It was gone as quick as it had come. In its place was a man holding an old style oil lantern. It took a moment for Picard’s eyes to readjust. “Q!” He yelled when the form came into focus. “Why have you brought me here?” “O contraire Mon Capitan.” Q replied, bringing the lantern closer to his face, letting the light from the flame eerily dance across it. “You brought me here.” “I did not! This is a dream, a Nightmare!” Picard spat his words at the smug entity. He then became more somber, he knew what would come next, what should come next. “This is my nightmare, but you’re not in it.” “I am tonight Jean Luc, but strictly as an observer.” Q explained as he sauntered about the scene, talking in the wreckage. “I’m giving you a gift. I’ve made this dream more than the fleeting feeling of guilt that overcomes you when you wake. I’ve given it life. You’ll finally be able to answer their question.” “What question?” Picard wondered how much Q knew. Then Q was very close, his lips to Picard’s ear. “Are you worthy of this?” The room rocked and both turned to see a Starfleet Engineer stumble pass them to a console. The engineer worked furiously, attempting to mend some unknown wound in the ship. Without warning the console exploded. The resulting force tossed the man across the room. He landed hard on the deck, engulfed in flames. Picard ran to him, but could do nothing, the fire burned too hot. It lit up the room as it consumed the Engineer’s flesh. The man writhed in pain. His anguished screams the only thing more powerful than the brilliant flames. With a final shriek the cries ended, and the engineer ceased moving. The fire continued not missing a single bit of unconsumed tissue. It began to grow dimmer, dimmer, dimmer, gone. All that was left was the charred black form of a man and the stench of burnt hair and flesh. Picard stepped closer, he looked and felt ashamed. Something caught his eye; he bent over and peered closer. The charred body’s hands shot upward and caught Picard by the neck. The Captain struggled, but could not wrestle free. The corpse pulled himself closer until his face was no more than an inch from Picard’s. It was dark. The face was pitch black. It opened its eyes, the white surrounding the irises seemed to jump out at Picard, and the flickering light of Engineering danced in the pupils. Down, down, down, Jean Luc could feel the man staring into his heart. “Are you worthy of this?” Picard let out a stifled yell as he pushed away from the corpse with all his might. The charred man fell back into a chair. Picard backed away. He fell over a desk, and landed on his back. There was no warp core. There were no flickering consoles. There were no electrical fires. It was dark, but it was his ready room. The only illumination came from his desk console and the replicator. Other than the lack of light and the limp burnt engineer in his chair. The room was in pristine condition. No damage. No mangled metal. No exposed cable. But still no peace. The eyes of the corpse stared at the Captain, unblinking. Picard stood and hurried out of his ready room. He burst out of the door onto the bridge, his heart pounding in his chest. The bridge looked normal, except the captain’s chair was backwards, and it was dark. “Why are we here Jean Luc?” Q asked, lounging in the executive officer’s chair. Picard gestured toward his ready room. “The burned Engineer, he was in my chair.” “Who was he?” Q was inspecting his fingernails as if he was uninterested in his own question. “Lieutenant Lindqvist, he died in a fire years ago.” Picard’s voice shook as he spoke. “Why don’t you sit down?” Q suggested. “You really look like you need to take a load off as they say.” Picard walked to his backwards chair. He reached out and turned it around. He reeled back. He found himself leaning against the helmsman’s chair, and staring at the Ensign he had seen floating outside the corridor. The hollow eye sockets stared at him, unblinking. “Why are you doing this Q?” Picard chocked out the words. “Q stood up and strolled across the bridge until he was standing next to the Captain. “I’m not doing anything to you Jean Luc. You do this to yourself, night after night after night.” Q sighed. “So who is this one?” “Ensign Coleman, he was sucked out of a hull breach. He died in the vacuum of space.” “And it always ends this way?” Q asked. “With you cowering from the sight of a dead crewman in your chair?” “End, yes, but it begins differently. I could be watching Ensign Sato, Ensign Donovan, Lieutenant Hawk, anyone that has died under my command. But in the end, they are always in my chair.” Picard’s voice trailed off. “You’re right Jean Luc, they’re always in that chair. Whether you’re asleep or not.” Q whispered into Picard’s ear. “Now answer their question, are you worthy of this?” “Of being Captain? Of sitting in that chair?” Picard looked at the ground and thought. “I don’t know…” “That’s your answer? That’s what you’re going to tell the men that died for you?” Q demanded. “What do you have to say to them?” Picard looked straight at the dead Ensign in his chair. “Thank you.”
  9. From the miniseries and the first two episodes, this series has blown me away. I think its great, and I love the way the Galactica closely resembles a modern day carrier. 11+
  10. Q never really worked well with anyone but Picard. Q is my favorite reacurring TNG character, but I didn't think his appearances on DS9 or VOY were very good.
  11. Didn't he hurt his shoulder kayaking in the holosuite at the beginning of the first Section31 episode?
  12. Data's Day is a great episode. It shows Data's struggle to grasp simple human emotional states, and Data dancing is hilarious.
  13. This is a story that takes place on the Enterprise D, I hope you all enjoy it. All comments are welcome. The Fugitive by Ghiaman Hers was not a species that was normally found aboard a starship. In the unusual circumstance that one of her kind was to be transported through the stars, they were typically required to spend the journey in a specialized container designed to fit their needs. On this ship they had at least given her actual quarters, the pale fellow saw to that. Of course she had been confined to them. A cage is still a cage, no matter what they choose to call it. Her species was looked down upon in the Federation. They were laughed at, thought of as entertainment and nothing more. She did not feel like entertaining today, she craved for some thing more, freedom. Freedom, she had struggled for it for so long. There had been times when freedom had been so close, but she hadn’t been quick enough. Not this time. This time she would be quick and this time her freedom would be much more than a transitory thing. She pumped her legs, straining for more speed as she bolted down the corridor, they’d be after her soon, but they would be too slow. *********************************************** Captain Picard stretched back into his large leather command chair. It was a slow day, the first one in quite awhile. Other than some upgrades Commander La Forge was carrying out in engineering, nothing was out of the ordinary. Lately it seemed that the ship was in the middle of a diplomatic debacle or facing some dangerous spatial anomaly almost once a week. The Enterprise was a coveted position for younger officers. Brand new ensigns who craved adventure knew they would find it in spades on the Federation’s flagship. However, as they became as seasoned in years as Picard had, they would appreciate these slower days. Just then, the Captain’s splendid slow day sped up a little. “Worf to Commander Data.” The call came across the comm. “Data here.” The Operations officer responded from his post on the bridge. “She’s loose.” Worf said. “Understood, Data out.” The Android then turned towards the center chair. Picard sighed, if it wasn’t a spatial anomaly, it was a fugitive on the ship. “Commander, I thought she was confined to quarters.” “She was sir, I will investigate immediately.” Data said standing and heading towards the turbolift. “And Data,” the Captain called, “do try to bring her in alive.” This brought laughter from the rest of the bridge crew. “Of course, sir.” The android replied, not understanding the humor of the situation. *********************************************** “AH-CHEW!” Worf’s sneeze echoed down the corridor. “She’s this way, I can smell her.” He and two security officers charged down the corridor after the convict. When she was in sight, the three security officers spread out across the corridor. “You’re rebellion has come to an end.” Worf snarled at her. She was being backed against the bulkhead. Her glance darted from one of the yellow shirted men to another. Physically, they were all larger than she was, but they seemed even larger and more menacing as they closed in. She would not be captured, not again. She hissed and leaped towards the largest of the three. *********************************************** “Hold still.” Dr. Crusher instructed her patient. “I’ll never be able to heal this cut unless you sit still.” “My apologies, Worf. She is my responsibility, I regret you were injured.” Data said, referring to the cut across Worf’s face. “I had her in my hands.” Worf said, turning to Data. “She has a warrior’s blood.” “If you don’t want to loose any more of you’re warriors blood you better hold still.” Dr. Crusher was becoming very frustrated with the Klingon. “You know Data, if you just wait she’ll get tired of all this sooner or later.” “I had considered that strategy, Doctor, but I believe the Captain would like this situation to come to an end as quickly as possible. Already, her escape has disrupted the ship’s operations.” Data replied. *********************************************** Commander Riker approached the doors to Main Engineering. They swooshed open in front of him, and as he stepped forward the doors swooshed back close. It had happened so quickly that even at his slow saunter Riker could not stop before running into the door. The door then opened again and he cautiously stepped through. “Geordi, what’s going on with the doors? Complaints have just started coming in from all over the ship.” Riker asked as soon as he saw the Chief Engineer. “It’s these upgrades. The new software has put internal sensors all out of whack.” La Forge explained. “And since the internal sensors control the doors…” “They’ve been opening and closing at random.” Riker said, finishing Geordi’s thought. “How long will it take to fix it?” “Twenty minutes tops.” Geordi estimated. Just then something caught Riker’s eye. “Looks like somebody has used the malfunctions to her advantage.” Riker said, smiling at Geordi and gesturing towards the fugitive creeping through engineering. “I’ll get her.” Geordi said. He slowly crept up on the escapee. La Forge reached out to grab her, but she detected him. The Chief Engineer leapt at her, but she was too quick. Geordi was left sprawled out on the floor with only a glimpse of her heading into an open service hatch. *********************************************** “La Forge to Data.” The comm. sounded. “Yes, Geordi?” Data replied from sickbay. “We just saw her here in Main Engineering, but she was able to get into the Jefferies tubes.” “I’m on my way.” Data replied and turned for the door. “Data,” Dr. Crusher called after him, “you know you’ll never be able to catch her in the Jefferies tube. She’s too quick.” “You can take my phaser.” Worf offered. Dr. Crusher laughed at the suggestion. “I think that would be excessive Lieutenant.” Data said. “But I have a plan that might resolve the situation.” *********************************************** She was finally able to slow down. Her pursuers hadn’t followed her here. She strolled casually and inspected her surroundings. She had done it. She had escaped, and now she could go where she pleased. *********************************************** “Thank you for helping me Counselor. With the internal sensors malfunctioning, you’re telepathic abilities may be the only way of successfully tracking her.” Data explained to Counselor Deanna Troi as the walked down the corridor. “I just want to make sure she gets home safely. Do you really think that will draw her out?” Deanna asked, indicating the plate Data held in his hands. “She hasn’t eaten for some time, but I often misjudge her wants. Have you sensed anything yet?” Data asked. Deanna laughed; Data was acting like a concerned parent. “No, not yet, she is a very small being on a ship with a thousand people. It may take some time before I am able to find her mind.” She then stopped and closed her eyes. She concentrated for a moment before opening them again. “This way.” She said, leading them down the corridor. *********************************************** There is was again, she thought, that noise. What was that noise? It didn’t sound threatening. It was like a ringing really, she liked the noise. She sniffed the air; whatever was making the sound had a pleasant smell. She hesitated for a moment. Maybe it was a trick, but maybe not. In the end curiosity won out, as it always did, and she started walking in the direction of the sound. *********************************************** “She’s getting closer.” The Counselor said, as she and Data waited at the service hatch. Data had laid the plate just inside the hatch and was tapping it with a fork. The fugitive then poked her head around the corner of the Jefferies tube. Upon seeing the plate, she quickened her stride and began gobbling down the food as quickly as possible. “Spot, you have been a naughty cat. You’re curiosity could have put you in considerable danger.” Data chided the feline. “But satisfaction brought her back.” The Counselor pointed out. And Spot was satisfied purring as she accepted gentle pets from her master and the Counselor.