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From: mcmelmon@btr.btr.com
Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
Subject: Five Star Trek - 5
Message-ID: <6467@public.BTR.COM>
Date: 2 May 92 06:36:45 GMT
Article-I.D.: public.6467
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Begin:  Five Star Trek - 5

Worf:  Captain, sensors indicate unusual concentrations of energy forming on the
surface of the alien vessel.

Picard:  What kind of energy?

Worf:  They appear to be some manner of shield...

Riker:  Visible shields.



On the Enterprise screen, several disks become plainly visible - hovering just
above the giant craft's hull.  The disks move smoothly across the surface.

Five disks.

Plainly discovered, five Klingon warships uncloak.  They fly, in formation, away
from Poseidal's ship.



Worf:  Captain!  The alien craft is hailing us!



The bridge crew exchange glances.



Picard:  Counselor, be prepared...

Troi:  Yes, Captain.

Picard:  Onscreen.



Poseidal appears on the main viewer.  He is dressed in a silver robe, with
strange, wing-like projections fanning out from his shoulders.  To his right and
slightly behind stands Atrophos.



Picard:  I am Captain Jean-Luc...

Poseidal:  Picard, of the U.S.S. Enterprise.  Yes, Captain.  I know that.  And I
am Oldna Poseidal, and this is my ship - the Grand Adas.  I apologize for the
delay in our response.  It took me somewhile to make up my mind.

Picard:  About?

Poseidal:  About whether you should be taken seriously or not.

Picard:  And?

Poseidal:  I think that I shall take you seriously.

Picard:  Seriously enough to explain your pressence?

Poseidal:  Perhaps we should engage in more personal discussions?  Do you have
docking facilities for a launch?

Picard:  That won't be necessary.  We can beam you directly onto our ship.  Once
you are clear of your vessel's dense outer hull...

Poseidal [laughter]:  I'm afraid, Captain, that I did not mean to imply I would
come myself.

Picard:  Oh?

Poseidal:  No.  But tell me more about this 'beaming.' Do you mean that you may
affect teleportation of individuals without need to resort to dedicated
platforms?

Picard:  In a manner of speaking, yes.

Poseidal:  Fascinating.  But you may not pass through the outer hull of the
Grand Adas?

Picard:  Not without great technical difficulty.

Poseidal:  Perhaps you are lying, perhaps not.  In any case, I would like to
send an envoy.  Are you prepared to receive him?

Picard:  We are.



Earth.

A vast auditorium, crammed with people.  The air bristles with excited energy.
Somewhere lost in the crowd, Wesley and his friends wait for Lynn Ming to take
to the stage.

The singer does so in a crescendo of light - transported in from somewhere else.

A surge of adulation, and the concert begins.



Far above the planet, the Galaxy-class warship Yamato pulls slowly out of
space-dock.  The Yamato has a smaller saucer-section than the Enterprise, and
larger engine nacelles.  She is first and foremost a vessel of war, not
exploration.  The Federation has learned it's lesson from the Borg well:  the
universe is not an idealist's paradise after all.

On the Yamato's bridge, Commodore LISA HAYES stares cooly into the giant
viewscreen.  She watches impassively as the doors of the spacedock give way to
the vastness of space.  The Yamato moves with silken grace, executing the
delicate maneuvers flawlessly.  

Free of the dock, the battleship hovers above the blue planet thousands of miles
below - a majestic eagle, spreading it's wings.

Commodore Hayes smiles.



The concert is over.  A grand fete rages in Lynn's honor.  But the star's
attention is focused elsewhere.

Wesley fidgets uncomfortably in her embrace.  After a short while, he is
interrupted by the chirp of his communicator.



Lynn:  Oh, Wesley.  Take it off.

Wesley:  What?!  Here?  In front of all these people.  I can't do that...  Oh.
My communicator.  Right.  Well, I really shouldn't...

Lynn:  Take it off, Wesley...

Wesley:  Let me find out what they want, just this once.  Then I'll turn it off.



Wesley leaves.  Lynn sighs.  Kyle walks up.



Kyle:  What a twit.

Lynn:  He is not.

Kyle:  He's got you fawning all over him and he walks off into some closet.  I
wonder what he's doing in there...

Lynn:  You really piss me off sometimes, you know that...

Kyle:  That's my job.  Oh, well, look whose back.  Wash your hands?

Wesley:  Huh?

Lynn:  Ignore him, Wesley.  Where were we?

Wesley:  Actually I've got to leave.

Lynn:  What!?

Kyle:  Like I said...

Lynn:  Oh, shut up already!  What do you mean, 'leave?'

Wesley:  Well, I'm sorry.  But I've been assigned to the Navigation Console
aboard the Yamato.  She'll be warping out in about an hour...

Lynn:  I'm going to be warping out a lot sooner than that!

Wesley:  I'm sorry, Lynn.  But this is really big...

Lynn:  I'm really big!  Oh, Wesley.  You can't just leave me like this.

Wesley:  I have to go.  I'm really sorry.

[Wesley pops his communiator]

Wesley:  Beam me up.



As Wesley starts to dematerialize, Lynn jumps on him.  Seeing Lynn start to
dematerialize, Kyle jumps on her.  The trio vanishes from the party, to reappear
before a very startled officer of the Yamato.

The three stumble off the transporter platform.  Kyle is the first one up.



Kyle: You foolish little girl.  Look what you've done.

Wesley:  You shouldn't have done that.

Lynn:  Of course I should have.  You can't just disappear on me, just like
that...

Kyle [to the officer]:  Send us back down to the planet immediately.

Lynn:  No!



Kyle grabs her arm and pulls her up onto the platform.



Kyle:  Yes!

Lynn:  No!



They vanish.  Wesley grins sheepishly.



Wesley:  Sorry about that.

Officer:  Ah-huh.  Commodore Hayes is waiting for you on the bridge.  She
doesn't like surprises.

Wesley:  Right.



The bridge of the Grand Adas.  Poseidal and Atrophos walk along the catwalk.



Atrophos:  They asked you to explain your pressence.  How long has it been since
you have needed to explain yourself, Lord Poseidal.

Poseidal:  How do you mean?

Atrophos:  How long has it been since the coming of Poseidal did not mean but
one thing, I wonder.

Poseidal:  That one thing being?

Atrophos:  Wherever Great Poseidal leads, war and destruction follow.  Fate has
blown a cruel wind toward these people, though they know it not.  Yet.  Death
and despair are driven before it like dry, burning leaves.

Poseidal:  I am not the one who will make the war.

Atrophos:  By being who you are, you will cause the war to come.  That is what
you were made for, Lord Poseidal.  

Poseidal:  There will always be war, dear Atrophos.  With or without me.