Making a Treaty with the Devil

Princess Sasami's fleet, Rebecca Brandes commanding - Deep Space

Following the victory over the Decepticon supply depot, Rebecca was prepared for more boring cruises through space. The grand offensives against the Decepticons and - to her surprise - their allies from a presently-undetermined organic race were being fought by the regular Juraian military. Fleets of Juraian cruisers and battleships were on the front lines, engaging Decepticon ships in captured territory and unclaimed systems the robots had begun colonizing for their war efforts. The irregular fleet Rebecca commanded, consisting of the Juraian Soja-type battleship that served as the princess' flagship, the J-Ark, and a dozen-plus Mandalorian vessels, was being used to patrol the outskirts of the Juraian empire's territory for enemy incursions. The robot aggressors seemed content to avoid Cybertron and other Autobot worlds, preferring instead to plunder the resources of unaffiliated planets teeming with uptapped resources.


That made for pretty boring patrols, but things were about to get more interesting.

Rebecca, currently commanding from the flagship's bridge, was in the middle of studying a map of the overall war effort when an alarm began to ring.

"Enemy fleet incoming!" an officer reported. "Estimated strength twenty Supreme-type vessels and one unknown!"

"Give me a visual of the Unknown," Rebecca ordered, her curiosity piqued. "And put the fleet on yellow alert."

The bridge crew was clearly puzzled at only going to yellow alert with enemy ships in sight, but complied. The image of a large vessel, almost resembling Terran aircraft carriers, appeared on the screen with the now-familiar Decepticon emblem painted on its bow.

"Calculate their speed and trajectory," Rebecca continued ordering. "Have they launched any fighter analogues?"

"Direct intercept course for our ships, no fighters deployed, and..." the officer paused for a moment. "They're coming in at a cruising speed, not a combat speed."

"Enemy flagship is hailing us, sir," the communications officer reported. "Their leader says he wants to parlay."

"Oh, great, some random flunky probably wants to challenge me to a duel or something..." Rebecca sighed. "Prepare cannons and..."

"Negative, Admiral!" the officer rudely interrupted. "It's...it's their Emperor, Scourge."

Rebecca's interest was really piqued now. A personal chat with the bastard machine who'd helped Quick Fix almost drop a giant floating island on Las Vegas?

"Well, I'll take the call this time," Rebecca feigned nonchalance. "Main screen turn on."

Moments later, the metallic visage of Scourge appeared. The would-be Decepticon Emperor of Destruction sat comfortably in a chair almost ostentatious enough to call a throne, his posture casual.

"Greetings, Admiral Brandes. I thank you for taking my call!" Scourge beamed, gesturing grandly.

"I still have a few minutes left on my cell phone I wanted to use," Rebecca deadpanned. "May I ask the purpose of this social call?"

"Ah, straight to the point. Excellent." Scourge rumbled happily. "I have come to negotiate a treaty with you."

"Ending the war so soon?" Rebecca gasped melodramatically. "Unfortunately, the only thing I have the authority to offer you is a prison cell and three Energon cubes a day."

"Generous indeed," Scourge answered. "No, this is not to be a treaty between the Decepticons and Jurai. This is one you have all the authority you need to negotiate."

"Oh, now I AM interested in this," Rebecca chuckled. "Alright, Emperor, what are your terms?"

Scourge's throne moved to the side and a display appeared, showing the planet Earth.

"They're quite simple: Decepticons of all factions, not just my own, will avoid Earth for the duration of the present Decepticon/Jurai war. I will even appoint an Enforcer to the planet to uphold my end of the agreement."

"Why should I care if Earth is neutral?" Rebecca asked. "I don't live there; I just visit once in a while."

"Ah, but your Conjunx Endura, your....spouse, I believe you would say, currently resides there, does she not?" Scourge countered. "Not to mention dearest Princess Sasami."

The display changed from Earth to a live image of the Royal Pain, showing Vina giving Sammy a lesson in how to use a Power Armor frame. The two practiced martial arts for a moment, pulling at Rebecca's heart until the moment Scourge returned the focus to him.

"As you can see, my agents are already watching them," Scourge continued. "Maybe they could repel the ones I have in place now, but what about the next?"

Rebecca gripped the armrest of her chair until she hurt, using that pain to keep a straight face. "I see. It's obvious how I and Jurai would benefit, but what good does it do you to stay off Earth?"

"Quite simple: it doesn't. The planet is rich in energy sources, which is why Decepticons have been drawn to it for decades. However..." Scourge began.

The tyrant rose from his throne.

"In exchange for the boon of leaving Earth free of Decepticon influence, you - in turn - would not be allowed to call upon your Kobber friends for assistance in our war, no matter how vested an interest they might have because of Beatbox and Quick Fix."

Ah, so there it was. Forfeit any possible assistance from a living, breathing, drinking group of living weapons and the robots would ignore Earth until the Juraians were crushed.

"An interesting proposal. Please give me a moment to consider it," Rebecca considered, trying to keep panic from her face.

"Take two," Scourge added as the channel was cut.

There was no way she could realistically believe that a robot called a Decepticon would do anything BUT deceive her. She could hardly believe he'd keep his word to keep robots off of the planet and definitely believed he'd made this proposal to keep Kobbers from wrecking his fleets. On one hand, she hadn't even PLANNED to ask them for help. On the other hand, maybe it wasn't such a bad idea. Indeed, she could agree to the terms and violate them later; it wasn't a binding agreement between two governments. More like a gentleman's agreement that both sides knew the other was going to violate eventually. Not to mention, if Scourge DID gun for her family, he'd bring the Kobbers upon him, treaty or not.

"Open the channel back up," she ordered. "Emperor Scourge, I accept your terms. Decepticons will leave Earth alone and Kobbers will leave the Decepticons alone."

"Excellent! I'm quite pleased to find you so...reasonable about this," Scourge beamed, clapping his hands together. "Then the...oh, it needs a good name...the Brandes Accord has been struck. I shall immediately appoint an Enforcer and send him to Earth."

"And he'll just be there to keep other Decepticons away?" Rebecca asked.

"Of course," Scourge answered. "Well, he will also be there to make sure your Kobber friends don't try interfering. Enforcement DOES run both ways."

Rebecca rolled her eyes. Of COURSE it did. "Very well. Who is he?"

"You may have seen him in action once already in one of those Fites. He is Borodan the Hunter and thoroughly and bafflingly-incorruptible."

"I'll send word ahead to expect him then," Rebecca nodded, satisfied.

"Very good, and in the spirit of parlay, my fleet shall depart this system immediately," Scourge stated, waving to one of his officers to carry out an order. "I expect, in turn, for you to honor our parlay and not seek to strike while our backs are turned."

"Of course. Good day, Emperor."

Rebecca motioned for the connect to be cut and muttered under her breath, "Arrogant bastard."

On board his flagship, Scourge muttered, "Organic twit."

~

Las Vegas

A Gigan-shaped robot approached the Den of Lions. He had received word from his Emperor and immediately set out to begin his assignment.

The Postsee

Parsee

Obligatory Parsee Blogpost

parsee is (probably) alive

~

Explosions! Chaos! Anarchy!

All of these described the movie Parsee was spending Saturday morning watching. Despite having the occasional attack by Middle Class extremists and strange demons, Las Vegas was considerably more boring since "Kobber Season" had ended, giving her plenty of time to catch up on movies people insisted she needed to see. She still wasn't sure what the movie was about but, as the end credits began to roll, she began to wonder how bad the Lost World could be if this Warrior could find a cabal of psychic monks to fix his robotic motorcycle.

She briefly considered asking someone to build her one of those motorcycles, but decided the dump truck with the flamethrower - "Megaweapon" - would be more interesting to drive around.

She soon put the DVD back in its case and went back to planning a birthday party for Cian, Vanessa, Alvin, and any of the other former Sins who happened to be hanging out at the time. She didn't know if it really was their birthday - they probably didn't remember either - but it was a good excuse to have a party.

Then she took a nap. The end.

What? They can't all be about assassinations and space wars.

Escape from DC

Several days had passed since Labrys and the President of the United States of America had almost been assassinated mid-meeting. The FBI, CIA, and Army had all launched investigations into the events, including beginning technical analyses on what was left after Michael Wilson had single-handedly disposed of all three robots with a suit of power armor. Labrys, in her guise of Larissa Joyce, had been interviewed no less than eight times, each by a different agent of each branch. She'd given them as much information as she could without compromising her own identity, but she was quickly running out of things to say. She also knew she was, to a limited extend, under surveillance from numerous agencies; she'd managed to spot agents from at least three foreign agencies, based on their methods. She also knew she was poorly-trained in the art of non-electronic surveillance. Thus, she'd taken to keeping her disguise on at all times and maintained what she calculated to be the minimum number of appointments she needed to make to keep from arousing suspicion.

Thus she found herself in the middle of preparing another speech, this one to some corporate bigwig who was vacationing in the nation's capital for some reason; she hadn't yet tried to find out why but at present it seemed like a minor concern. Admittedly, she was distracted by the need to keep a sensor open for potential threats.

Thus, when someone knocked on her door, she did a backflip over her couch and reached for an axe that was hidden in her closet. Fortunately, to her knowledge, there weren't many things currently in DC she couldn't crush with her bare hands if need be.

She briefly considered getting out her bear hands, but that was a joke for another blogpost.

She answered the door like a normal, semi-frightened human being, but was surprised when there was nobody at the door. Had she been....PRANKED?! Dang kids and their not having anything better to do...

"Good evening, Miss Joyce," a voice said from behind her.

Labrys once more did a backflip and, out of reflex, fired a rocket punch behind her, hoping she'd remembered to shut the blinds. The figure, an anonymous humanoid in a concealing dark trench coat and fedora, behind her dodged out of the way and grabbed the chain of her Chain Knuckle.

"Be at peace, Labrys. I'm an ally," the figure said.

"Oh yeah, eh? Well, my allies don't need ter sneak into me apartment wile I'm answerin' me door!" she countered, drawing her arm back in.

The figure chuckled, a flat, mechanical voice devoid of any way to tell who was speaking. "In this case, yes, I do. Maybe you haven't noticed, but you're being watched."

"I know I'm bein' wotched. It's why I 'aven't tried leavin' tahn yet; they'd follow me wherever I went and I'm not getting me mates caught up in this," Labrys growled. "But woss yor story, guv? 'oo are yer?"

The figure chuckled and adjusted an expressionless mask. "I'm someone who knew you were Larissa Joyce without having to do more than look up your address. I've been around the Kobbers before and I'm here to provide you assistance in getting back to Las Vegas."

Labrys glanced at her windows; she HAD remembered to close them. She made a note to complain about loud neighbors and gaudy signs loud enough that a careful listener could hear her. Then she realized someone probably WAS listening right now. The figure noticed and held up a hand to calm her.

"I'm not unaware of the danger; I'm using a white noise generator to interfere with listening devices. You are still safe."

"But for how long?" Labrys muttered, neglecting her accent.

"Not long," the figure answered. "Some careful infiltrations and sabotage have kept the army's analysts from uncovering the origins of your dopplegangers thus far, but there are too many pieces in too many places to keep your connection quiet for long."

Labrys hesitated. Leaving meant months of work would be undone, her new reputation as an impassioned activist for numerous causes would likely be drowned by the untruth that she was an assassin trying to get close to the president. She felt like breaking something, but she liked her furniture too much. Her place was...homey.

"Fine. I take it you have more for me than just this obvious news," Labrys said, going to retrieve her axe.

"Indeed. I have a plan and resources to get you away from here undetected," the figure confirmed. "Get anything you need to take ready; I've got a distraction coming in five minutes."

"Five minutes?! You just showed up with five minutes and expect me to be able to get ready that quickly?!" Labrys protested.

"FOUR minutes."

The anti-Shadow weapon muttered with annoyance as she packed her most important possessions: a few knickknacks and photos, a laptop computer she'd upgraded extensively, a love letter a secret admirer had slipped her one day. She packed it all into a suitcase and turned to leave, but remembered one more treasure.

In the other room, the figure counted down the seconds until it felt the floor rumble. Right on time.

"Labrys, the distraction is here. A little kaiju called Trespasser is coming to make a splash here, but don't worry; I've also arranged something to stop it."

Heavy footsteps answered the voice.

"I've called in some favors and gotten Yongary of the Neo-Kobbers to appear and battle Trespasser. You can slip out of the city while they're battling; your shadows will be too busy requesting orders and doing what they can to protect the president to chase you."

More heavy footsteps.

"And then you will head south along the coast where a train is waiting...are you listening, Labrys?"

"Labrys isn't here," a deep, male voice answered.

Six feet tall, covered in freshly-plainted, finely-polished, meticulously repaired armor, Labrys entered the room, hefting her axe and her suitcase.

"You can call me Hal, stranger."

War is Hell...if Hell is the line at the DMV...

Unidentified Star System, 1200 hours...

Rebecca listened idly at the announcement that a flight of Mandalorian stealth-equipped fighters had launched from their carrier at roughly the time she had scheduled them to launch, barely registered the announcement that they would be sending back telemetry data to the ships of her fleet, and almost nodded off when her ship's computer reported that missile tubes were being loaded and would be ready to fire when a solid lock was achieved.


"Count on machines to manage to something as exciting as launching a missile so damn boring," she thought to herself, stifling a yawn.

She'd need to issue a few orders personally in a few minutes, but after that there was nothing to do but wait. After her ships had tracked a squadron of Decepticons back to a hidden base, she'd flinched at the sight of the thick asteroid belt. She didn't know how her robotic foes were getting their corvette-sized Sentinel ships through that rock field, but only the J-Ark and her fighters were nimble enough to actually maneuver through without getting pulverized and no way in Hell was she sending unsupported fighters in there.

And so she'd decided on a less risky/more lengthy method of bombarding the enemy base with bunker buster missiles. The only problem was that missiles were too dumb to maneuver through the asteroid field as well. Hence sending out squadrons of fighters with as much stealth and sensor equipment as could be scrapped up, meticulously scanning the asteroid field while the combined processing power of three Mandalorian cruisers tried to forecast the trajectories of a few million...nay...billion tons of rock.

Not to mention there had to be an equal number of ships on the lookout for hostile reinforcements, ships scrambling to bring as many missiles from a supply depot as possible, and a hundred other difficult-to-coordinate tasks, none of which actually required her direct input.

And so Rebecca waited. She tried watching a movie, reading some books she'd downloaded from Gloria's library, and even took a moment to perform a few backlogged repairs aboard J-Ark. That damn water heater would face her wrath. For a moment, she WAS needed and she ran back to her bridge covered in grease.

"Sighted Decepticon freighter, sank same," came back a report from a Crusader gunship.

"Confirm it and get back to me," Rebecca ordered, stifling a yawn until the connection was cut.

Indeed, there was very little for her to do at the moment and, to her later chagrin, she actually nodded off. Fortunately, nobody seemed to notice as a quick alarm jolted her awake.

"Trajectories plotted," one of her calculator cruisers reported.

"All ships, five second laser barrage on target coordinates, then do a wide-field tractor beam sweep followed by a full missile barrage. Fire until dry, then begin reloading," Rebecca ordered.

It was very precise. Her people WERE professionals. She watched as cannons fired, bits of rock were quickly emptied from one cone of space, and thousands of missiles were fired into the gap, with slighly more than half of them actually getting through to the base - better than projected. The principle asteroid determined to be the Decepticon space station began breaking apart, spewing metal into space as robotic warriors attempted to escape. Rebecca's fleet fired again, though she ordered nobody to pursue them further into the field; she'd settle for shattering one of their supply lines if it meant a minimum of casualties on her side. Her comm channel suddenly erupted in Mandalorian battle cries; apparently some of the hostile Decepticons had chose to try running right through her fleet despite her current bombardment.

A chorus of "Oya" and "Kandosii" rang out; hostiles eliminated. There were be songs sung tonight, some tales embellished, and a few more comrades to remember each night.

"Attention all hands," Rebecca said, activating a fleet-wide channel. "Mission accomplished. Stand down to yellow alert and prepare to move on to our next destination."

Rebecca flipped the channel off as the cheers renewed; she wanted nothing more than to share in their enthusiasm, to yearn for the glories of more battles, but she needed to focus. As much as she wanted to chase down Decepticons all day e'ery day, to be back with Vina on Earth, there was too much at stake to be so reckless.

That didn't mean she couldn't still share in the celebrating though. She quickly donned her armor and dashed to her personal fighter.

"Netra'gal with Clan Lok or Tihaar with Clan Tenau? So much drinking, so little time..."

President Evil

West Wing Lobby, White House

Labrys took one more look in the mirror, adjusting her currently-blond hair, her designer makeup, her professionally-tailored skirt. Anything to make sure her disguise was still in place. It was a huge pain to put on actual makeup, actual clothing, and even dying her artificial hair blonde to fit in with her "Larissa Joyce" identity, but she knew her preferred holograms wouldn't work here. Not in the White House.

The friggin' White House.

Ever since she'd created the fictional Corner Consortium and moved to Washington DC after the annual Kobber Split, she'd been working hard to find other ways to change the world without having to resort to Joyce Jr.'s ideas of armed insurrections and Kobber Takeover of the government. She'd been successful thus far, through diplomacy, money, and - from time to time - blackmail. She did what she could to foster change without outright breaking the law. Sure, she'd used her abilities as a digital intelligence to sneak into computer systems, but only when other methods had failed.

It had also been the only way to get an appointment to meet with the president to discuss some of his recent policy decisions. She hoped the Make America Livable Party didn't mind having their appointment mysteriously eaten by the aether or wherever deleted scheduled items went when you hacked into the White House computers and replaced one meeting with another.

Ever since she'd confirmed that appointment, she'd worked furiously to prepare. She'd only managed to secure five minutes with President Michael Wilson and she was determined to make the most of it. She'd even worked in her "sleep", the time she spent in her maintenance chair recharging and receiving repairs, on how the meeting should go. Now she say in the West Wing Lobby making sure everything was perfect: she adjusted her disguise with her body and practiced her speech in a digital Oval Office in her mind. She finally felt ready as an orderly instructed her to follow him to the president.

Michael Wilson, a man who secured national fame by leading the armed forces against a military insurrection several years ago alongside his vice-president Richard Hawk, was known to be passionate, energetic, and direct. A man who appreciated straight talk and directly confronting issues over backroom deals and double-talk.

"Good morning, Miss Joyce. How are you this morning?" the president asked as an aide seated Labrys.

"Oi'm doin' jist gran', sir. 'tis an 'onor ter meet witcha," 'Larissa' answered.

"So what can the White House do for you?" Michael Wilson asked with maybe a touch of weariness, as if anticipating more partisan dealings or lobbyist meddling.

"Tanks for meetin' wi' me, sir. Ah've cum ter yer ter explain de corner consortium's growin' concerns over de condishun av several key american 'ighways an' freeways. dees strategic roads clap a combined eighty...do yer 'ear somethin'?"

Labrys' advanced hearing could barely hear the incoming attack moments before they struck. The windows behind the president's desk shattered as three slender figures JUMPED into the room. Labrys managed to duck behind the desk and the president had quick enough reflexes to avoid being shredded as well, but the attackers ignored them, first rushing out into the hall to disable the guards stationed right outside. The president began shouting for guards and hit a button, but Labrys lay there unmoving. For one thing, Larissa Joyce wouldn't be expected to get up and fight assassins; she'd have to wait until nobody was watching or she had no choice otherwise. Another thing though shocked her into further inaction: all three attackers looked almost identical to her. They didn't even pretend to wear clothing and their eyes were a lifeless shade of grey, but they moved just like her and carried axes just like hers, which coincidentally was back at her apartment.

Gunshots rang from the hallway, but none of the robots sounded stopped. One popped back into the Oval Office - presumably to actually murder the president - but it quickly fell to the ground as the sound of a huge automatic weapon rang across the room. The other two robots jumped back in to investigate but they were cut down as well. Curiosity overrode shock in Labrys' system and she peeked over the desk. In the president's place stood a massive blue robot: the president's personal power armor, Metal Wolf.

"I apologize, Miss Joyce. It looks like I'm going to have to cancel our meeting. The guards will need a statement from you I'm sure, but I'll get someone to escort you home."

Metal Wolf looked around the office, picking up one of the ruined robots. If she could have, Labrys would have gulped nervously. Someone was stealing her image and just used it to try murdering the leader of the United States of America.

She just might have to get out of town.

By Popular Demand...

zook is (not) alive

The Adventures of Fleet Admiral Sarah: A Busy Mage

 This blogpost requires some familiarity with  The Adventures of Captain Sarah STO playthrough I've been posting on Youtube. At the very least, you may want to watch the three parts of The End of the World, detailing the final mission of Star Trek Online's The Iconian War storyline.

Part 1: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_DfQ-Li5QBs

Part 2: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fUSKxcMVZtk

Part 3: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P9Ik5gGoJaY

~

Observation Deck, USS Tenshi, Earth Orbit - Approximately 36hours after the Iconian War's end

For the first time since the war had unofficially come to an end, Fleet Admiral Sarah Triden could finally relax. Even though hostilities had ended, ships on both sides of the conflict had immediately engaged in frenzied search-and-rescue operations, sending medical responders and damage control teams to any ship that showed signs of life and signs of catastrophic failure. She had even, after informing Admiral Quinn of the Iconians' peace terms, hustled onto a shuttle and visited several ships. For the biggest moment in galactic peace, the pace sure felt like they were still at war.

But the war had indeed ended. Saying it had been won would imply anything but a miracle had convinced the Iconians to end their attacks. Even as things stood, a significant portion of the Iconian fleet - T'ket and her Heralds - had left Earth orbit for parts unknown to prepare for future battles with the Alliance. But the other Iconians - once Admiral Quinn of Starfleet, Chancellor J'm'pok of the Klingon Empire, and Representative D'Tan of the Romulan Republic had agreed to their terms - were willing to pick up the pieces of their fleet and return to Iconia to begin rebuilding their culture, thanks to the World Heart, the artifact Sarah and her allies had rescued 200,000 years ago.

Sarah chuckled. A war fought 200,000 years ago had seemed like just yesterday because, to her, it had been. Now that the worst of the immediate recovery operations had been taken care of though, she could stop for an hour to simply watch things happen. The Iconians had finished their own recovery and would shortly leave the Sol System. Under the watchful gaze of the Iconian L'Miren's massive dreadnought, the surviving Heralds and other servitor ships began passing through massive gateways that would take them back to Iconia.

When the dreadnought itself finally passed through the portal, every member of the Alliance - Starfleet, Klingon, and Romulan alike - let out a collective sigh of relief. With luck, no Iconian or Herald would be seen for a thousand years.

"Pretty impressive sight, all those ships leaving at once."

Sarah turned to see her tactical officer and older sister Commander Josephine enter the observation deck with a green glass bottle and two drinking glasses.

"There's nothing in that bottle that violates regulations, right?" Sarah asked, smiling.

"I dunno. Are we on a Klingon ship?" Josephine asked, popping open the bottle of wine. "It's...regulation-ish."

Sarah shrugged and accepted a glass from her sister, enjoying the sweet aroma before taking a sip.

"So what's next for us?" Josephine asked, taking a seat.

"Us? You mean me?" Sarah asked. "We're the Others now, Sis; you could get a new position anywhere in the fleet. Could even get your own command if you wanted."

"Yeah, but we're a team! You don't just split up teams!" Josephine protested. "Even if I COULD get a cushy patrol near Romulan space, swing by once in a while to 'resupply', and visit that Subcommander I met on shore leave..."

"It won't work out," a third voice said, that of first officer/younger sister Ariel. "He's got that straight-laced brother that won't abide fraternization."

"Hope you brought your own glass, Ariel," Josephine remarked.

She had, accepting a drink from her sister as she found a seat next to Sarah.

"Anywhere in the fleet I want, eh?" Ariel asked. "Do I get a promotion too? There's a few planets I'd love to clean up, but they don't listen to what commanders want."

"Sure thing. You can be Fleet Janitor of the Galaxy," Sarah answered solemnly. "With a broom made with the finest Iconian technology we can find."

The three laughed, letting out what seemed like a lifetime of tension, stress, and fatigued born from fighting a constant stream of wars against the Undine, the Vaadwaur, and finally the Iconians. It'd been ages since they could stop to drink and chat without the specter of war pushing in on their fun.

"I think I'll stick with you though, if that's alright, Sarah," Ariel admitted. "If I'm getting a command, I want it based on what I do on purpose, not what we somehow stumble into 200,000 years ago."

"Oh thank goodness," Sarah sighed. "Lack of transfer permitted. I'm starting to get tired of doing all those away missions."

"But they do you so much good," Josephine teased. "You get out, run about, and get to earn your root beer floats!"

"And for that matter, we're still not installing a replicator on the bridge."

The three sisters looked up as their other sister, head engineer and oldest sister Gloria, entered the observation deck. Carrying a glass of her own, they all noted.

"What do you mean, we?" Sarah asked again. "Last I heard, you were going to take a command of your own, cash in on being an Other."

"Nah. It was going to be the Carol and she can't take the irony of getting one of your hand-me-downs for once," Ariel joked.

Even Gloria laughed at that one. "I'd considered it, but there's an even greater responsibility for me here: keeping you three out of trouble. You blew up Planet Killers, dreadnoughts, and fleets WITH me here. What kind of trouble would happen WITHOUT me?"

"More of the fun kind," Jokesephined as she fist-bumped Ariel.

And so the four sat for a quiet moment, drinking wine and watching starships fly by. Sarah tutted as she watched several ships crawl along the hull of Earth Spacedock.

"Shame what happened to ESD. Mom had just finished patching it up too," she noted, leaning back.

The other sisters silently agreed. Many had been the time they had docked at Spacedock to receive promotions and a new vessel, staying long enough to celebrate at Club 47, leaving the next morning for some new assignment on the frontiers of space.

"So what ARE we doing now?" Ariel finally asked.

At once, Josephine, Ariel, and Gloria turned to Sarah, looking like they were expecting orders in the heat of battle. Sarah looked back, straightening her uniform robe as she stood up. It made sense, she supposed. Off-duty like this and with such a life-changing decision on hand, Sarah thought for a moment that Gloria would lead the discussion as she had when they were children. But while Gloria had been the de facto leader of the sisters while they were growing up, ever since Sarah had taken command of the Shelby after the Borg attack on Vega, she'd taken over that role with Starfleet approval.

Now, they looked to their captain and their sister for guidance.

"A great captain once asked his first officer 'Remember when we were explorers?'" Sarah said, beginning to pace around the observation deck. "Well, I think we need to get back to that. The four of us and the entire crew of the Tenshi have been all across the galaxy, fighting evil at every turn. Well, now I say it's time to get back to Starfleet's original mission: exploration and knowledge."

Sarah walked over to a large viewport and motioned at a pair of Romulan escorts towing a Klingon cruiser.

"Our actions have had amazing results. We're back at peace with the Klingons and at peace with the biggest Romulan faction in the galaxy. We've protected billions of lives and brought peace to distant corners of space! The wars are over; now we can get back to peace.

To that end, I've requested a transfer from the Tenshi."

That last statement brought surprise to her sisters' faces, but Sarah continued.

"We've had a good run with the Tenshi; it's survived more scrapes than her builders imagined she would. She's a vessel of war though, a carrier designed to bring maximum firepower and destroy the enemy.  We're without an enemy though. When the war with the Vaadwaur was beginning, Starfleet was already in the process of building a new class of science vessels based on a Delta Quadrant design. I've already requested command of one of the new ships and it's been granted to me. It's only got a serial number right now, NX-106716, but I get the naming rights. The new ship won't be as big as the Tenshi and it won't have nearly as much firepower, but that's okay. The old girl is already being reassigned to patrolling the Dyson Spheres; she's not retiring any time soon, just taking it easy until we need her again."

Sarah sat back down and took a sip of her wine.

"Knowing this, you're all still welcome to request transfers. Maybe one of you can have the Tenshi and go busting around the Dyson Spheres."

It took less than a moment for Josephine, Ariel, and Gloria to look at each other and nod.

"Nah."

"We're in."

"Sounds fascinating."

Sarah nodded. "Then start suggesting names for OUR new starship. Now that we're not pouring all our resources into fighting ships, they'll have it ready in weeks. I mean, it WAS going to take a month, but being the Other has its perks and..."

Suddenly, another new voice interrupted.

"This is the last new voice in this blogpost or I'm walking," Ariel muttered.

"Bridge ter Admiral Sarah. We've got two shuttles on approach and boff are requestin' dockin' clearance. The passengers are boff askin' ter meet wiv yer at yor earliest convenience too."

Sarah shrugged. It had been a nice reprieve from duty and it was good to know she had her sisters backing her up, but it was time to get back to work, she supposed. "Who are they?"

"One's a shuttle from the Starfleet Corps of Engineers, Admiral Celestia pilotin', and the uvver is from the USS Excalibur bearin' a Chief Petty Officer Alex...didn't give a last name."

Sarah suddenly let out a very un-officerly squeal of glee and rushed off for the shuttle bay. Ariel sighed, Josephine chuckled, and Gloria activated her combadge.

"Bridge, this is Commander Gloria. Grant both shuttles permission to dock, but Commanders Josephine, Ariel, and I will be meeting with the Admiral. The CPO is...ah...a priority guest of Admiral Sarah's."

"Affirmative, Commander. Bridge out."

The three sisters still in the observation shared a laugh as Sarah's footsteps faded. Whatever was in the past and whatever the future may hold, they were still together, continuing a tradition of boldly going where no being had gone before.

The Home Guard

Masaki Shrine, Okayama, Japan

At 7 AM, a woman and her daughter ran around a lake. Behind them were dragons, serpents, and a golem. It was a peculiar sight in most places...or would have been if anyone else were around. The sun rose and the chase continued. The woman shouted: encouragements, curses, promises, and threats. Of all the myriad beings involved in this affair, only she was used to doing it every day. It wasn't until they'd all moved to the region that she'd begun rousing them all for the chase.


"COME ON, YOU SLUGS!" Vina Sealander shouted, running backwards for a moment to watch her Pokemon.

A Zweilous, a Gabite, a Fraxure, a Dragonaire, a Gyarados, a Golurk, a Noivern, a recently-purified Arbok, and a Juraian girl all looked up from their impromptu rest break to keep running after their cruel mistress who insisted they train now that their other mistress, Rebecca, was off in space. Only Bruticus the Golurk failed to look winded and that was likely because nobody was sure if he even could be winded. The ambiguously-alive construct-like Pokemon simply stood in place before running again.

"Are you kidding me?!" Vina called out from a distance. "I'm an old lady! None of you should have trouble keeping up with me!"

The eight Pokemon and the girl looked at each other and nodded.

Then took off running.

"That's more like it!" Vina cheered, laughing as they all passed by. "Final stretch, buckos, then breakfast!"

It had been a few months since the Kobbers had scattered to the four winds and Rebecca had gone to space to battle the rampaging Decepticon armada. Vina, Sasami, and the Sealander Squad had stayed in Vegas for a time, leaving only once all of Yagren's Pokemon victims had been purified and adopted, save for Jorge the Arbok, who had elected to join the Squad, and Alakawhat, who preferred being a Lovecraftian demon who enjoyed exploring the other dimensions with his mind while sipping lemonade.

Alakawhat had also decided not to join the exercising.

Since then, they had moved their starship, the Royal Pain, to a remote rural area in Japan where Sasami's sister was living with a distant relation of some sort. Vina didn't understand the situation completely, especially when it also involved the relation's grandson and five other woman pining for him and...well, there were politics involved that'd threatened to engulf her until she'd shown off her wedding ring.

The morning was off to a good start though. Vina had gotten the rest of her workout done before the run and would make the Squad breakfast once they got home, followed by instructing Sasami in physics and history and...

And the house was on fire. Fortunately, the Royal Pain had been parked AWAY from there.

"I swear, this had better be an alien invasion and not..." Vina muttered.

"I SAW THE WAY YOU LOOKED AT TENCHI!" a voice shrieked. "THAT LEVEL OF LEWDNESS IS DEMEANING TO A MAN OF HIS STATURE!"

"Lighten up, Princess! Like you wouldn't look at him that way if nobody were watching!" another voice taunted back.

Vina sighed. It was, in fact, Princess Ayeka and an alien space pirate named Ryoko fighting over some imagined slight or more posturing for that boy Tenchi's affections.

"I shouldn't do this, but then they'd want to bunk on the ship," Vina groaned. "Iku, go douse the flames, then we do breakfast."

The Gyarados complied, spraying the house - and the two quarreling women - with her Hydro Pump as the rest of the squad settled in for breakfast. For a brief moment, long enough to bring a pang of longing to her heart, Vina wondered if Rebecca didn't in fact have the safer job at the moment. She shrugged the thought away, serving up sausage and eggs.

She briefly considered doing something about the quarrel, but chose instead to sit down and eat. Then she got a great idea. One that was surely great and wouldn't make Rebecca freak out if she knew about it.

"Say, Sammy, how would you like to start learning to use Power Armor today? I think I looted a suit from the Brotherhood of Steel that'd fit you..."