The All-Stars {Star Trek the Next Generation Fan Fiction}

Chapter 2 - Szish

It involved a few checks and rechecks of the schematics before Daniya was able to get the Gorn ship aloft. "It handles differently," she observed, "almost like a shuttle, rather than a starship. It's a nimble craft."

"How large is it?" Crita inquired.

"The levels are each about twenty-six hundred meters in circumference," replied the merchant. He consulted his PADD. "There are thirty bunks on the bottom level. They are all large enough for two. The cargo areas can accept a few metric tons of freight – more if the crew is small."

"Where are the automated controls?" Daniya asked.

"Here," he pressed something under her console, and a smaller board came up. "Punch in the coordinates on the main display and set the speed there as well. Then set this display to automatic. The system will then ask you when you wish to be alerted before arrival, and how you wish to handle communications hails, possible acts of aggression, and so forth."

"Pretty damn slick," Mack whistled through her teeth. "Who was the guy who had it built in the first place?"

"He was a Gorn named Szish."

"You said he had died," Mack reminded him. "Do you know how?"

He was about to answer her when the vessel took a hit. "What the hell was that?" Mack asked, a bit of anger in her voice. Crita looked scared.

"I – oh, no," moaned the Kreetassan.

"Get Tactical up and running!" Mack commanded. "Daniya, get us back to Perseus, as quick as you can, okay?"

"Right," answered the Orion mix, a greenish blur as she worked.

The Kreetassan hit the controls at a nearby console and it sprang to life. "Hmm, now, let's see." They were hit again.

"You don't have time to make it pretty!" Mack yelled. "Which is Communications?" The Kreetassan pointed. She fumbled around with the display until it lit up. "Crita, can you run this?" Her voice was a lot gentler.

"I think so." White fluffy hands pressed switches and then she placed a small device in her large triangular-shaped ear. "Unidentified vessel!" she called out. "This is the ... oh, what is the name of this ship?"

Mack looked back. "Uh, I dunno. The Cookie!"

"All right. Uh, this is the Cookie," announced the Daranaean, surprisingly calmly. "We are just riding around, and our motives are peaceful ones. Why are you attacking?"

She hit another switch and the front viewing screen switched to an image of a blue and magenta face with orangey horns sticking out all around it. "Szish! Where is he?!" thundered the person who was, evidently, the other ship's captain.

"He's dead!" Mack yelled back.

"Oh?" The bluish-magenta guy with horns motioned to a colleague. "Power down weapons." He turned to face Mack. "You are the new captain, then?"

"Who the hell are you?" she asked. She could see the Tactical display in the front of that station, and was endeavoring to teach it to herself as she spoke. "I don't know any Imvari."

"I am Skoloth. I believe you have a little something that belongs to me. A female such as yourself surely understands the ... injustice of such a situation."

"I know lots of things," Mack replied, a bit peevishly, "I understand more than most. So cut the crap, and don't try to flatter me. What the hell do you want?" she snarled.

"You are anxious," Skoloth observed, "and a bit ... nervous. All of this is completely understandable when it's your first command." His tone was patronizing.