Post by hszmv on Sept 22, 2015 4:01:08 GMT
A loud boom rocked the Tuffli’s bridge as a small crew of Ferengi scrambled around the ship. The Daimon struggled to hold onto his chair as another blast rocked the ship.
“Daimon Brok,” the helmsman squealed, “We’ve lost warp drive. Impulse only.”
“Shields up,” the Daimon pushed his fat body back into the chair.
“Shields up,” Nol, the ship engineer squawked with a bright toothy grin. Another blast rocked the ship and Nol’s face fell, “Shields down.”
“What happened?” Brok barked.
“Well,” Nol said, shuffling his hands frantically together, “Remember how you said you wanted to go faster to avoid Federation Patrols? Well, I may have fed shield power to our engines.”
“You idiot,” Brok grunted as the ship shook again.
“Sir, they’re dropping their shields,” The Helmsman squeaked, “Our cargo is being beamed out.”
“Pirates,” Brok looked to Nol, “I thought you said we paid off the Orions to run cargo in this area.”
“We did, sir,” Nol stammered, “Extra Latinum too… considering the nature of the cargo.”
“Well,” Brok growled, “Hail them… let them know that.”
Nol nodded and quickly tapped on the console. He waited a few minutes and typed something else in before pressing a button or two. A grainy image of two Andorians… the first one looked like one of the males, Brok couldn’t be sure which type with short hair and a goatee. The other with long wild hair and a headband wrapped around her forehead was making no effort to hide that she was one of the female genders.
<C>Hello,<C> The male waved at the Ferengi, <C>Sorry about your engine troubles. Let us render assistance by lightening your load for you.<C>
'You thieving bandits,” Brok sneered, “We paid the Orions off. We have protection.”
<C>From the Orions out here,<C> the male nodded his head.
<C>But not from the pirates that don’t pay to play in their space.<C> the female laughed. Suddenly, a flash of orange light flashed on their bridge. The two Andorians looked around as the comms screen went dead.
“Nol, what happened?” Brok yelled, leaping out of his seat.
“Looks like a warning shot across their bow,” Nol hit the console and the screen flickered, “They are leaving, sir.”
“Thank the Executor,” Brok slumped back into his seat, “The Orions got here just in the nick of time. Open a channel”
“Actually, the other ship isn’t Orion,” Nol stammered as he began the hail, “It looks like…”
<C>This is the Federation Star Ship, U.S.S. Tiberius. I am Captain Zarakia Basri, <C> The hail began playing on the bridge. Brok looked over to Nol and glared for a bit before mockingly mouthing along with the Comm. <C>How may we assisted you?<C>
Brok looked as the large saucer section and narrow blue deflector dish of a Regent class Federation Starship loomed through the static of the view screen, moving towards their position.
Brok looked to know and glared before sneering, “You idiot.”
Captain’s Log, Stardate 91722.9: With the Neo-Obsidian Order crisis over, Starfleet has reassigned the Tiberius to patrol the Rolor Nebula. Along with the True Way prison break, piracy in open space has been on the general rise as well. While inbound to New Havana, we happened upon evidence of a ship in distress.
“Captain on the bridge,” Sharin Kode, the Trill security officer announced as Captain Zakaria Basri walked off the turbo lift to see a black and red Risian Corvette turning away from a Tuffli transport.
“As you were,” the bald Moroccan man’s deep voice ordered, “Report?”
“Sir, sensors picked up the Corvette attacking a Ferenginar flagged transport,” The first officer, Abigail St. John, reported. She was an average sized woman who spoke with a thick Australian accent, “We moved to intercept. The transport was dead in the water and when the Corvette didn’t respond to hails we fired a warning shot.”
“Lt. Zarras, status of the attacking ship?” Zak asked, looking to the tactical station.
“Spooked them, sir,” The gruff voiced Tellerite laughed. The lieutenant’s wrinkled bearded, pig nosed face and short, stocky stature betrayed the fact that he was one of the youngest bridge officers on the Tiberius. “They’re running. Bearing Zero-Five-Six, Mark One-One-Three.”
“Are they flagged to anyone?” Basri asked.
“Something called Ytenri,” Zarras answered, “Don’t know a thing about it.”
“Its Andorian family name, sir,” the andorian Lieutenant Commander Thran Olnosev, “Probably means there’s more than one on board.”
“Are we going after them, Captain?” Abigail asked.
“Let them go. Mr. Olnosev, send out an APB for a black Risian Corvette,” the Captain looked towards his Andorian Ops officer, who nodded, “What are the crew of the damaged ship saying?”
“I’ve sent three hails,” Thran said, “No response.”
“Open a channel on all hailing frequencies,” Basri ordered. Thran nodded and began typing on his console before looking to the Captain to signal he was on, “This is Captain Zakaria Basri of the Federation Starship U.S.S. Tiberius. We are prepared to offer medical assistance and fix your vessel should you wish. However, we cannot provide you a tow if you insist on remaining aboard your ship.”
“Sir, they're responding,” Thran announced
“On screen.”
The visual of the Tufflie disappeared as the large, orange head of the Ferengi Captain appeared on screen.
<C>Hello, Captain Basri,<C> The Ferengi hesitantly said, <C>We would... appreciate your aid, but... our cargo was taken... we do not have much to pay you with...<C>
“Oh, that's quite alright,” Basri smiled, “No charge, Captain.”
<C>I was hoping you'd be the type of Captain who would take a bribe,<C> Brok sighed, <C> Very well... but I must insist your crew keep to the engine rooms, infirmary, and main halls... No entering the cargo holds.<C>
“May I ask why?” Basri said. He nodded towards Commander St. John and Ensign Kode.
<C>Do you have a warrant, Captain?<C> Brok's face glared.
“No I do not, I'm afraid.”
<C>Than no, you may not ask why.<C> The Ferengi hissed, <C>Brok out.<C>
The screen returned to a view of the damaged spaceship floating against the back drop of a pink orange dust cloud specked with stars.
“Charming fellow,” Abigail snorted, “I bet you he was smuggling weapons.”
“That may be but like he said, we don't have a warrant,” Zakaria reminded her, “Assemble an away team. Mr. Kode, I'll need a security away team. We don't want an incident between our crew.”
“Aye, sir,” the Trill turned to go to the turbo lift.
“And Ensign,” Basri interrupted, “Keep an eye out for anything unusual...”
“Daimon Brok,” the helmsman squealed, “We’ve lost warp drive. Impulse only.”
“Shields up,” the Daimon pushed his fat body back into the chair.
“Shields up,” Nol, the ship engineer squawked with a bright toothy grin. Another blast rocked the ship and Nol’s face fell, “Shields down.”
“What happened?” Brok barked.
“Well,” Nol said, shuffling his hands frantically together, “Remember how you said you wanted to go faster to avoid Federation Patrols? Well, I may have fed shield power to our engines.”
“You idiot,” Brok grunted as the ship shook again.
“Sir, they’re dropping their shields,” The Helmsman squeaked, “Our cargo is being beamed out.”
“Pirates,” Brok looked to Nol, “I thought you said we paid off the Orions to run cargo in this area.”
“We did, sir,” Nol stammered, “Extra Latinum too… considering the nature of the cargo.”
“Well,” Brok growled, “Hail them… let them know that.”
Nol nodded and quickly tapped on the console. He waited a few minutes and typed something else in before pressing a button or two. A grainy image of two Andorians… the first one looked like one of the males, Brok couldn’t be sure which type with short hair and a goatee. The other with long wild hair and a headband wrapped around her forehead was making no effort to hide that she was one of the female genders.
<C>Hello,<C> The male waved at the Ferengi, <C>Sorry about your engine troubles. Let us render assistance by lightening your load for you.<C>
'You thieving bandits,” Brok sneered, “We paid the Orions off. We have protection.”
<C>From the Orions out here,<C> the male nodded his head.
<C>But not from the pirates that don’t pay to play in their space.<C> the female laughed. Suddenly, a flash of orange light flashed on their bridge. The two Andorians looked around as the comms screen went dead.
“Nol, what happened?” Brok yelled, leaping out of his seat.
“Looks like a warning shot across their bow,” Nol hit the console and the screen flickered, “They are leaving, sir.”
“Thank the Executor,” Brok slumped back into his seat, “The Orions got here just in the nick of time. Open a channel”
“Actually, the other ship isn’t Orion,” Nol stammered as he began the hail, “It looks like…”
<C>This is the Federation Star Ship, U.S.S. Tiberius. I am Captain Zarakia Basri, <C> The hail began playing on the bridge. Brok looked over to Nol and glared for a bit before mockingly mouthing along with the Comm. <C>How may we assisted you?<C>
Brok looked as the large saucer section and narrow blue deflector dish of a Regent class Federation Starship loomed through the static of the view screen, moving towards their position.
Brok looked to know and glared before sneering, “You idiot.”
==^==
Captain’s Log, Stardate 91722.9: With the Neo-Obsidian Order crisis over, Starfleet has reassigned the Tiberius to patrol the Rolor Nebula. Along with the True Way prison break, piracy in open space has been on the general rise as well. While inbound to New Havana, we happened upon evidence of a ship in distress.
“Captain on the bridge,” Sharin Kode, the Trill security officer announced as Captain Zakaria Basri walked off the turbo lift to see a black and red Risian Corvette turning away from a Tuffli transport.
“As you were,” the bald Moroccan man’s deep voice ordered, “Report?”
“Sir, sensors picked up the Corvette attacking a Ferenginar flagged transport,” The first officer, Abigail St. John, reported. She was an average sized woman who spoke with a thick Australian accent, “We moved to intercept. The transport was dead in the water and when the Corvette didn’t respond to hails we fired a warning shot.”
“Lt. Zarras, status of the attacking ship?” Zak asked, looking to the tactical station.
“Spooked them, sir,” The gruff voiced Tellerite laughed. The lieutenant’s wrinkled bearded, pig nosed face and short, stocky stature betrayed the fact that he was one of the youngest bridge officers on the Tiberius. “They’re running. Bearing Zero-Five-Six, Mark One-One-Three.”
“Are they flagged to anyone?” Basri asked.
“Something called Ytenri,” Zarras answered, “Don’t know a thing about it.”
“Its Andorian family name, sir,” the andorian Lieutenant Commander Thran Olnosev, “Probably means there’s more than one on board.”
“Are we going after them, Captain?” Abigail asked.
“Let them go. Mr. Olnosev, send out an APB for a black Risian Corvette,” the Captain looked towards his Andorian Ops officer, who nodded, “What are the crew of the damaged ship saying?”
“I’ve sent three hails,” Thran said, “No response.”
“Open a channel on all hailing frequencies,” Basri ordered. Thran nodded and began typing on his console before looking to the Captain to signal he was on, “This is Captain Zakaria Basri of the Federation Starship U.S.S. Tiberius. We are prepared to offer medical assistance and fix your vessel should you wish. However, we cannot provide you a tow if you insist on remaining aboard your ship.”
“Sir, they're responding,” Thran announced
“On screen.”
The visual of the Tufflie disappeared as the large, orange head of the Ferengi Captain appeared on screen.
<C>Hello, Captain Basri,<C> The Ferengi hesitantly said, <C>We would... appreciate your aid, but... our cargo was taken... we do not have much to pay you with...<C>
“Oh, that's quite alright,” Basri smiled, “No charge, Captain.”
<C>I was hoping you'd be the type of Captain who would take a bribe,<C> Brok sighed, <C> Very well... but I must insist your crew keep to the engine rooms, infirmary, and main halls... No entering the cargo holds.<C>
“May I ask why?” Basri said. He nodded towards Commander St. John and Ensign Kode.
<C>Do you have a warrant, Captain?<C> Brok's face glared.
“No I do not, I'm afraid.”
<C>Than no, you may not ask why.<C> The Ferengi hissed, <C>Brok out.<C>
The screen returned to a view of the damaged spaceship floating against the back drop of a pink orange dust cloud specked with stars.
“Charming fellow,” Abigail snorted, “I bet you he was smuggling weapons.”
“That may be but like he said, we don't have a warrant,” Zakaria reminded her, “Assemble an away team. Mr. Kode, I'll need a security away team. We don't want an incident between our crew.”
“Aye, sir,” the Trill turned to go to the turbo lift.
“And Ensign,” Basri interrupted, “Keep an eye out for anything unusual...”