Space: the final frontier. These are the voyages of the starship Enterprise. Its five-year mission: to explore strange new worlds, to seek out new life and new civilizations, to boldly go where no man has gone before.
bluepulse week: day one - stargazing
ok this is already Way off prompt but i didnt wanna do something rly cliche ig ? anyway heres a star trek au !!!! science officer jaime is awfully endeared by this talkative engineering officer…
(i promise the others will be more On Prompt)
The ship rocked, knocking you off balance. You put your hand up to steady yourself against the biobed, but another jolt sent you flying into Doctor McCoy. As the Red Alert klaxon sounded, you tried to regain your footing, but another shudder and both you and the doctor were on the floor. A strange pulse shook the ship, knocking power systems offline for just a second, and in that moment of struggling in the dark, you felt disoriented and a little nauseated. When the lights flashed back on, you pushed yourself to your feet, dizzy and just a little… discombobulated?
Everything was off, like it was just a little lower to the ground than it had been. You wrinkled your brow in confusion and shook your head, noticing your ponytail didn’t sway behind you. You reach a hand up and felt short hair instead of the thick braid you normally wore. The shock was enough that you dropped your hand to your chest. No boobs. You looked down, sure enough, no boobs. Your body had changed, vastly. You investigated your hands first, noting the well-maintained fingernails, the thick ropey tendons on the back of the hands, leading to a light dusting of hair at the wrists. You knew these hands. Without regard for anything around you, you darted into the washroom, flipping the light on as you looked in the mirror and screamed.
“Bones?!” You squeaked, slapping a hand to your face. You reached out and touched the mirror. It definitely looked like you were in Doctor McCoy’s body. “Bones!!”
Once upon a time, I started a YOI Star Trek AU that I will hopefull someday finish. Here’s some of it.
“Captain’s log, stardate 2268.349. The
USS Enterprise is approaching the
Klingon Neutral Zone for her routine patrol. As usual, the purpose of our
patrol is to maintain the neutrality of the demilitarized zone between the
Klingon Star Empire and the United Federation of Planets. For the next three
months, Enterprise will be on impulse
engines, following a regular parabolic arch around the perimeter of the Neutral
Zone and monitoring all frequencies originating from Klingon space. During this
time, the crew intends to perform several training simulations, as well as some
advanced maintenance on the ship.”
Yuuri terminates the transmission and sits
back in his seat, watching through the blank viewscreen as the vastness of
space speeds by at warp one. The atmosphere on the bridge is calm and somewhat
sleepy. It’s very early on in the ship’s day, because all bridge crew are
required to be on deck when the patrol of the neutral zone is set in. This is
the riskiest part of the entire thing—accidental maneuvers into the Neutral
Zone have happened, although are usually the result of very green navigators.
Yuuri has faith in Phichit.
“Approaching the Neutral Zone,”
Lieutenant Suengil says, hands expert on the conn. “Dropping out of warp
“Thank you, Lieutenant.” Yuuri
uncrosses his legs and leans forward, elbows going to his knees to brace
himself. The slide from warp one to impulse is not nearly as intense as the
fall from warp ten—Yuuri remembers being physically thrown from his chair in a
simulation of that particular
deceleration, which is thankfully something that is only done in emergencies.
At warp one, there is an instantaneous moment of weightlessness and the oddest
pulling sensation behind one’s navel—but only that, provided the artificial
gravity is quick to compensate.
Yuuri straightens up as Enterprise settles into her impulse
engines—she’s going to be on them for awhile—and says, “Phi—Commander
Chulanont, please display the charted course.”
“Aye, Captain.” Phichit slides
his hands across his screen and shoots the course onto the viewscreen. It
appears as a transparent pink line, vaguely curving across the screen until
disappearing into the upper left corner. As is usual whenever a Federation
starship registers itself to be anywhere closer than one parsec from the
boarder of the Neutral Zone, their exact distance from the Zone begins flashing
red in the upper corner.
Yuuri frowns at that number. “Phichit,
this is way closer to the Neutral Zone than I’m comfortable with us being.”
Phichit is quiet for a moment, then clears
his throat and nods. “I’m aware, sir. I’ve had to make some alterations to
our course to accommodate some…unforeseen circumstances. It seems the Yorktown is still patrolling and doesn’t
plan to leave for another week. Our arch will widen then, but we’re temporarily
orbiting closer to avoid collision.”
Still frowning, Yuuri mutters, “Well,
it would have been nice for Starfleet to put that in the dossier.” Yuuri
knows that it could not have been in the orders he received; he’s reviewed them
multiple times in the leadup to this mission, the most recent of which was just
“It seems that their orders were
altered last-minute as well. They’re due for shoreleave after this, but there’s
a flu going around their ship. Starfleet doesn’t want them bringing it onto the
starbase and creating an epidemic.”
“Hmm,” Yuuri grumbles, finally
leaning back in his chair and recrossing his legs. “Still would have been
nice for ‘Fleet to put it in the dossier.” He says it with no small amount
of disgruntlement, glaring directly through the viewscreen as though Command
can see him through it.
Phichit doesn’t verbally respond, but Yuuri
sees his shoulders shift in what he knows to be a giggle.
All falls to quiet on the bridge as they
settle into their course. In the moments of peace, Yuuri feels himself listing.
He really hasn’t gotten very much sleep the last week or so. But this will be
over soon, and he’ll be able to return to his quarters and catch up on the
sleep he’s been missing—
“Sir.” Lieutenant Ji speaks up
from the communications station, tone urgent. All eyes, including Yuuri’s, turn
to him. “I’m picking up something from the Neutral Zone—it’s on a
Federation distress frequency.”
“Can you isolate it?” Yuuri’s
hand tightens on the arm of his chair, a spike of anxiety going straight
through the center of his body.
“I think so—” Ji’s hands travel
across his consol at a speed similar to warp, and after a tense thirty seconds
finally says, “Yes, I’ve got it—hold on—”
Another keystroke plays the message
overhead. It’s quiet and full of static, no doubt from all the jamming
frequencies the Klingons have pinging off each other, but the message is still
“—struck—gravitic mine and—stranded.
Our—core is damaged and we have no im—engines. We have been knocked off course
and are appro—kilometers into Kli—space. I repeat, this is—Hamada of the Kobayashi Maru—”
“Hail them,” Yuuri says.
Ji taps on his conn for a moment, but
shakes his head. “Their hailing frequencies are down, Captain.”
“Can you patch us through the
Even more tapping. The atmosphere on the
ship has gone from relaxed and tired to alert, tense. Despite the absence of
red lights and blaring claxons, there is no questioning that they are entering
into full-on Crisis Mode. Yuuri has surrounded himself with a team of people
who take crisis in their stride, and knows that whatever happens here today,
they will act to the best of their ability. He only wishes he could know the
same about himself.
“Patched, Captain,” Ji says, a
triumphant and slightly shrill lilt to his voice. The whine of a frequency
opening sounds overhead.
to Kobayashi Maru,” Yuuri barks,
“Come in, Kobayashi Maru. This
is Captain Katsuki of the United Star Ship Enterprise.
Come in, Kobayashi Maru.”
There is a tense moment of silence during
which Yuuri almost tells Guang-Hong to try hailing them again, but just before
he opens his mouth the static from the line coalesces into actual speech.
this is Yoshino Hamada of the Kobayashi
Yuuri almost launches himself out of his
seat, but manages to keep himself seated. “We received your distress
signal, Kobayashi Maru. What is your
designation, and how many aboard?”
“We are a Superior-class freight
vessel with 326 civilian souls aboard, Captain.”
Yuuri almost swears. Civilians. That’s exactly what needed to be added to this equation.
He jerks himself to his feet and runs a hand through his hair, pressing it back
against his head with the sweat that has gathered on his forehead. The many
eyes of his crew are on him, watching him stave off alarm unsuccessfully, and
he roams his eyes over them before coming to a decision. He crosses the bridge
in two long strides and leans over the back of Ji’s seat, speaking directly
into the conn. “Hamada-san, are your escape pods functional?”
“Negative, Captain,” he responds,
as Yuuri thought he might. “A gravitic mine tore through the hull and
knocked our main powerline out. We have no engines, no transporters, and no
“How many hours of air do you have
There’s a quiet moment, during which
Yoshino Hamada of the Kobayashi Maru
might be investigating Yuuri’s query, but could equally as likely be swimming
in existential dread. Finally, he answers, “At current rate of
consumption, sixteen hours.”
This time, Yuuri does swear. Sixteen hours
is not nearly enough time to make contact with Starfleet and begin the process
of applying for amnesty to travel into the Neutral Zone. Such things take days,
if not weeks, and by then the Kobayashi Maru and her 326 civilian lives will be
nothing but a lifeless, floating piece of space debris; it will turn this
situation from a rescue mission into a recovery mission. Yuuri doesn’t know if
he could cope with the idea that 326 families will lose parents, children and
siblings and that it will be his fault.
Yuuri leans down over Guang-Hong again.
“Kobayashi Maru. I assume you’re
aware that you are within an area of contested space known as the Neutral Zone,
and that to purposefully enter the Neutral Zone is a violation of the treaty
established by the Klingon Empire and the Federation at the Khitomer
“I’m aware, yes.”’
Yuuri sucks in a deep breath and speaks
again. “Then I also assume you understand that time and speed are of the
essence. I need you to listen to me very carefully, Hamada-san, and relay
everything I say to your crew.”
Summary: series following the events of loot– takes place during events of star trek beyond. in this chapter, you run into a very frightening portion of your past and things are revealed.
Warnings: language, violence (but it’s canon)
A/N: i’m still tagging those i used to tag for loot, tell me if you want to be removed. SHIT’S CONTINUING TO GO DOWN.this chapter and the next 2 are probably my favorites
You continued to hear loud blasts that shook the bridge. Gasps rang through the halls and the deafening crashes silenced them all. The alarm siren had slowly turned into comfortable, predictable white noise amongst all the uncertainty and the blinding red lights now reminded you of where you were, that this was reality and not some sick nightmare.
You exchanged a look with Uhura, conveying your suspicions to her without even having to say a word aloud.
She nodded in understanding, glancing at the woman beside you.
That woman, Kalara, who claimed to have lost her ship in the uncharted depths of this volatile nebula, continued to shift nervously.
It wasn’t a nervousness that resembled the one keeping your knees from buckling and the one keeping Jim glued to his captain’s chair, but rather an anticipatory nervousness. You thought she might have been waiting for something— something much bigger.
“Sir, I have hull breaches in levels twelve to fifteen, six, nine, thirty-one and twenty-one, sir,” Chekov stated in a trembling voice, turning to face Jim as if the captain could impart some sort of confidence everyone else was depleted of.
Scotty’s voice rang in from the communication receiver, “Captain! There’s a chance I can reroute the energy reserves from the warp core to the impulse engines.”
“If we get back into the nebula, maybe we could lose them,” Jim said, his grip on the armrests of his chair visibly growing tighter as his knuckles turned a ghostly white. “Do whatever you have to, Scotty.”
Chekov and Sulu offered one another skeptical glances.
Jim rose from his chair, as if tearing his body from its clutches, and combed his fingers through his hair. He looked at you. “Nothing?”
“Nothing,” you sounded defeated— you felt defeated.
Jim’s attention was caught and he leaned over the communication receiver. “Go, Spock.”
“I have identified the individual who appears to be leading the attack party,” you could hear the motion in his voice, the quick blasts of phasers ringing through the line. “He infiltrated the archive vault and removed the artifact from our mission on Teenax.”
Sulu, Chekov, and Jim turned to look at you simultaneously.
Your mouth fell open and you felt your stomach flip and jerk enough to inspire a heavy wave of nausea. You almost lost your balance.
Jim was the first to look forward again. “Hold your distance until—”
A loud phaser blast echoed through the line and it went dead instantly.
“Spock?” Jim called. “Spock!”
He sighed heavily, motioning to the officers behind you. His voice had a distinct rasp as he stated, “You two with me. Sulu, you have the conn.”
As Jim removed a phaser and passed it to Sulu, you let go of Kalara’s arm. “I’m coming with you.”
Lunchtime Drabble: Searching the Ship, Part 4 Word Count: 560 Warnings: Fluff mostly, I’m pretty much just having fun with this story now… Just go with me on this, it’ll be fun! (Parenthesis are Jim’s thoughts.) [Brackets are Bones’ thoughts.]
Jim and Bones left the office, after each took a healthy swig of bourbon, and silently went back to where Y/N lay on the bed. She had stopped crying and looked like she had drifted to sleep, her hands resting on her pregnant belly. Christine had brought her a blanket and helped her let her hair down. She looked quite comfortable laying there with her hair spread over the pillow, face peaceful and relaxed.
Jim’s breath caught in his chest. (She’s so beautiful. So amazing.)
“You’re beautiful too, Jim” she murmured in her sleep.
Here you are, @pokeharvest - Ooh, you should write a Scotty one where the reader is in engineering and names all the little parts of the ship, and at first Scotty is like “woah and people think I’m nuts about the Enterprise” but then he finds himself joining in on it, confusing everyone else
Word Count: 2007
Author’s Note: I took a few liberties with your request. I hope you enjoy it! PS, TOS Enterprise is approximately ⅓ the size of AOS Enterprise. Despite the fact that my blueprints allow for 250 crew on the Enterprise, TOS Bones once said there was 430-ish people on the Enterprise, so there’s obviously some wiggle room in interpreting size. That means AOS Enterprise could have a crew of 750-1200, depending, but I couldn’t find a definitive answer. Also, aside from size, no new specs on AOS Enterprise. So I had to do a little faking. The swimming pool and bowling alley are totally on the blueprints I have of TOS Enterprise though, they just have nothing really to do with the work of an engineer. Also, I hope I didn’t vilify poor Appleton too much. I’ve been dealing with a bully at work, and it just… bubbled over into the story. P.S. The best part of this was trying to find a song about how currents work, and re-discovering School House Rock’s Electricity.
“Mr. Scott, this ship is huge. I’m worried I’m going to get lost,” one of the other newly assigned grads blinked her eyelashes in a show of wide-eyed innocence that made you want to gag. Montgomery Scott, Chief Engineer on the U.S.S. Enterprise, quirked an eyebrow and turned to face her.
“Aye, lass. She’s a little over 700 metres in length -”
“725, sir,” you interrupted. You couldn’t help yourself. You’d spent most of your last year at the Academy fantasizing about being assigned to the fleet’s flagship. Studying the Enterprise specs had been your geeky little secret hobby. Stepping off the shuttle onto her had felt like coming home. There was nothing out of place. It looked exactly as you’d imagined, you suspected largely in part thanks to the handsome Scotsman standing at the head of your Engineering bay orientation. His blue eyes flicked over to assess you, and the hint of a smile lit his face.
“I love the enthusiasm of new grads,” he grinned. “Thank you, Ensign?”
“Y/L/N,” you provided. Ensign Eyelashes glared at you for the rest of the orientation, obviously angry that you’d distracted Mr. Scott’s attention.
Theme Song: Another One Bites The Dust by Hidden Citizens
Summary: During Krall’s attack on the Enterprise, You, Jim’s 13-year-old-daughter, try to survive the attack. Meanwhile,Jim does everything in his power to protect the crew…And you.
Warnings: Violence, mild swearing, paternally protective Jim is such a thing to play with. XD.
Word Count: 2,389 words
A/N: HOLY CRUDDY CRIDDIDY CRAP I HAVE NOT WRITTEN FOR STAR TREK IN FOREVER!!! Here’s a kinda-quickie. Oh god, I haven’t written in forever for Trek-I’m so sorry!!! I’m 100% open for requests! If you have any, send them in! I hope they will motivate me immensely. Enjoy the story!
(I saw you were looking for dad Jim. Oh, I love dad Jim.) @yourtropegirl
You stepped onto the bridge as Spock was reporting on the planet, Altamid. You headed over by your dad’s chair, knowing he doesn’t mind when you do. Those E/C eyes of yours were observant and sharp at the scene. Suspicions were strong in you about Kalara, the alien woman. Her story of studying the nebula and all was…iffy to you. Must’ve been a high-up course. But Kalara didn’t seem to be a person who really coordinated with that type of thing. Yeah, that was quick judgement, but you weren’t gonna be very loud-mouthed on it.
“Proximity alert, Sir! We have an unknown ship heading straight for us!” Chekov reports.
“Lieutenant Uhura, hail them.”
The ship(as you could only call it) came straight into view. It looked like no ship, though. You had no idea what to call it. It wasn’t as straight-up solid like a starship or a warbird or anything. It’s motions were more like…..Oh god, you didn’t know. But it seemed….flexible.
“No response, but I am picking up some kind of signal,” Uhura says. Your suspicions were high…They weren’t friendly.
“They’re jamming us.”
Your brows slightly furrowed. Why would they need to jam the ship?
Your dad stood up and ordered Sulu to magnify. Blink once, blink twice. What was this thing?
“What is this?” He turns to Kalara. She didn’t say a thing like she was clueless. Your eyes were flaming towards her. “You liar, you were just trying to attack the ship!” You claim lowly. She remained quiet, and continued to put up mock-innocence. It wasn’t working on you.
Regina relearns an old lesson from the engineering courses at cadet school: it’s usually bad to try and repair one kind of machine with parts from another. When one of the two machines is a materials transporter that uses commodified fuel-materials-approved teleportation technology to move the volatile liquids that combine to form the impulse-engine fuel used in modern spacecraft, things are worse. When the other machine is a food replicator that hasn’t worked since the burrito incident 1300 parsecs back, specially tuned to analyze the gastrointestinal systems of its operators to synthesize the most suitable possible food, things can become catastrophic.
Thankfully, until the fuel components are combined, they aren’t particularly volatile. Though the viscous, glowing, dense liquid that makes up the propellant’s base can hardly be considered digestible.
(just a doodle I did in Sai that I decided to throw glowy color on….! probably not canon. maybe.)
Solar Impulse, the fuel-free aeroplane, has successfully completed the second leg of its historic attempt to fly around the world.
Project chairman, Bertrand Piccard, piloted the vehicle from Muscat in Oman to Ahmedabad in India, crossing the Arabian Sea in the process.
Tuesday’s journey took just over 15 hours.
The distance covered - 1,468km - set a new world record for a flight in a piloted solar-powered plane.
The vehicle has another 10 legs ahead of it over the course of the next five months.
Included in that itinerary will be demanding stretches when the craft has to fly over the Pacific and Atlantic oceans.
Piccard is sharing the flying duties with project partner and CEO, Andre Borschberg, who made Monday’s inaugural trip from Abu Dhabi to Muscat.
Solar Impulse arrived in Ahmedabad in darkness, its wings illuminated by LEDs, and its propellers driven by the energy stored in its batteries.
The plane had left Muscat at 06.35 (02:35 GMT) and put its wheels down at Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel International Airport at 23.25 local time (17:55 GMT).
Preparations are already under way for the next leg to Varanasi in northeast India, although mission planners say that will not be for another four days, at least.
The time will be spent carrying a campaigning message on the topic of clean technologies to the local Ahmedabad people, and the wider Indian population.
The Solar Impulse project has already set plenty of other world records for solar-powered flight, including making a high-profile transit of the US in 2013.
But the round-the-world venture is altogether more dramatic and daunting, and has required the construction of an even bigger plane than the prototype, Solar Impulse-1.
This new model has a wingspan of 72m, which is wider than a 747 jumbo jet. And yet, it weighs only 2.3 tonnes.
Its light weight will be critical to its success.
So, too, will the performance of the 17,000 solar cells that line the top of the wings, and the energy-dense lithium-ion batteries it will use to sustain night-time flying.
Operating through darkness will be particularly important when the men have to cross the Pacific and the Atlantic.
The slow speed of their prop-driven plane means these legs will take several days and nights of non-stop flying to complete.
Piccard and Borschberg - they take it in turns to fly solo - will have to stay alert for nearly all of the time they are airborne.
They will be permitted only catnaps of up to 20 mins - in the same way a single-handed, round-the-world yachtsman would catch small periods of sleep.
They will also have to endure the physical discomfort of being confined in a cockpit that measures just 3.8 cubic metres in volume - not a lot bigger than a public telephone box.
The Solar Impulse venture recalls other great circumnavigation feats in aviation - albeit fuelled ones.
In 1986, the Voyager aircraft became the first to fly around the world without stopping or refuelling.
Piloted by Dick Rutan and Jeana Yeager, the propeller-driven vehicle took nine days to complete its journey.
Then, in 2005, this time was beaten by the Virgin Atlantic GlobalFlyer, which was solo-piloted by Steve Fossett.
A jet-powered plane, GlobalFlyer completed its non-stop circumnavigation in just under three days.
Andre Borschberg is a trained engineer and former air-force pilot, he has built a career as an entrepreneur in internet technologies.
Bertrand Piccard is well known for his ballooning exploits. Along with Brian Jones, he completed the first non-stop, circumnavigation of the world in 1999, using the Breitling Orbiter 3 balloon. The Piccard name has become synonymous with pushing boundaries.
Bertrand’s father, Jacques Piccard, was the first to reach the deepest place in the ocean (a feat achieved with Don Walsh in the Trieste bathyscaphe in 1960). And his grandfather, Auguste Piccard, was the first person to take a balloon into the stratosphere, in 1931.
We are playing a friend’s tabletop campaign that he calls “Valentine’s Day Special” as he has more or less custom-made it for the players present. Throughout the campaign we warp from one place and time into another and every shift takes us in a time or place of some of our previous campaign. Eventually we end up in a fortress I know from my first ever tabletop campaign. During my past adventure, my and my party managed to trip a magical trap that caused part of the fortress to flood. One of the characters is a little… impulsive engineering warrior.
GM: “You come across a shut door with a big painted sign that says: ‘DANGER! DO NOT OPEN!’”
Me: *OOC* “Is it locked?”
GM: “It’s locked.”
Me: “Can I peek through the keyhole?”
GM: “There is no keyhole, the door is completely solid.”
Me: “Oo-kay.” *in character* “Guys, I think we should just move on. I don’t feel like causing any extra trouble for us today."
Warrior: *OOC* "I want to break the door.”
Warrior: “Break the door.”
GM: “Roll for strength.”
He does and succeeds. His character takes his axe to smash the door.
Me: *in character* “If this goes to hell, I swear…”
GM: “The door shatters and a water floods in, washing all of you down the stairs.”
Me: *in character* “DID YOU LEAVE YOU BRAINS IN THE GUTTER OR DO YOU JUST HATE ME?!”
Cue everyone laughing as my character cursed the flood that had brought her trouble now twice.
Captain’s log, stardate 1312.9. Ship’s condition – heading back on impulse power only. Main engines burned out. The ship’s space-warp ability – gone. Earth bases, which were only days away are now years in the distance.
Solar-Powered Plane Passes Point of No Return on Pacific Crossing
Solar Impulse, the airplane powered solely by the sun, has traveled past the point when it could safely return to land during the longest leg to date of its round-the-world trip. The aircraft left Nagoya, Japan 22 hours ago on its five-day flight to Honolulu, Hawaii.
It is now traveling at around 28 mph more than 8,000 feet above the Pacific Ocean in the blackness of night, around 2 a.m. local time. Pilot Andre Borschberg has just settled down for the second 20-minute rest period of the 10 he will take today. The aircraft’s batteries, meanwhile, have about 50 percent charge left in them as they power the four electric motors and the vehicle flies to meet the sun again in the next few hours.
The plane has already traveled more than 900 miles of the 4,300-nautical-mile trip. If this leg goes as planned, Solar Impulse will next complete the rest of the Pacific crossing with a flight from Honolulu to Phoenix. See a live transmission from the cockpit below, or go to the Solar Impulse site to see the flow of real-time data from the aircraft.