New Frontier fanfic

[Rusty]

Hey,

I just started writing a Star Trek New Frontier fanfic that I'll post in this thread some time. If I've made any mistakes in events that occured in the sereis (I'm trying to keep it close as possible), let me know.

Rusty

[Voy_Girl]

Please post your story!

[Rusty]

Surveillance Target Accquisition


Disclaimer: The Star Trek: New Frontier series isn't mine. Any genre errors and the like are the result of not having read the series in a long time. For continuity's sake this starts just before and during the New Frontier series, starting with the first book. I presumed the series, Star Trek:New Frontier took place in 2373. The Surveillance Target Accquisition Platoon is a creation of mine, though the title of the unit stems from a similarly named unit of the US Marine Corps. The character of Lieutenant Andrew Hallum is my creation.


* * * *


Personal Log of Lieutenant Andrew Hallum, Stardate 50923.1. USS Excalibur, new assignment and command of the Surveillance Target Accquisition platoon assigned to the ship. After having finished the Starfleet Security Scouting and Target Accquisiton School, in Zossen, Germany I served with the 29th Infantry Division on the Cardassian/Federation border. Now I'm being sent aboard a new ship with command over nineteen enlisted snipers. We simply call the school 'sniper school'. Leave it to the Federation to make up euphimism after euphimism for the various disciplines of warfare.


Hell, war is a constant of life anywhere you go. It is a struggle to simply live. But that's my only gripe about the Federation that I serve. Why even go and call something a long and complicated name rather than give it the name it is assigned? Is there something so fundamentally wrong about the word 'sniper'? Because that's essentially what we are, we are the descendents of the highly trained and disciplined marksmen of the 20th Century who could operate undetected behind enemy lines and kill with precision at distances exceeding two kilometers with a single shot. There is a lot more to a sniper's trade than simply sneaking into hostile territory and killing people with well placed shots, be they from a compression phaser rifle or the TR-116. STA personnel serve also to gather tactical intelligence about areas where Starfleet personnel might be operating. We are often first to beam aboard, before an away team is sent. We'll spend hours or days on the surface of said planet, undetected by the locals, gathering what possible threats and benefits the away team will encounter. When the away team hits dirt, we provide long range security. Often it's our rifles that stand between the away team and death.


Despite that, snipers are an outcast profession of sorts among the crew of a starship. We're often people born for individual fighting, like hunters, poachers, surveyors, outdoorsmen and the like. This doesn't usually mesh well with the 'team players' of starship crews, including their security detachments. Well, lets just see how this new assignment turns out...


* * * *


"Andy?" a voice sounds from behind me as I walk down the corridor to get an idea of the ship's layout and take a look at the armory.


I turn around and smile at the person who said my name. And when I see her, my heart skips a beat. Damn it Hallum, you're not a lovesick plebe quit acting like one. Easier said than done. It's Robin Lefler, one of my classmates and good friends at Starfleet Academy.


Seeing Robin again, not something I expected, but if there's one thing Starfleet has taught me, it's to expect the unexpected.


"A sniper does not get surprised Andy..." My old mentor, in his calm, even voice always used to say that to me when I was going through the school in Zossen. Lieutnant Commander Koenig, director of the sniper school and 'a nobleman from Bavaria who hunts deer', was his name.


There's no reason my heart should be racing like it is. I'd looked over the crew manifest and saw the name Robin Lefler. It stands to reason that my old classmate was aboard so seeing her shouldn't have surprised me. I've known her since I was a nineteen-year-old cadet, joining up after nearly two years of enlisted service in Starfleet.


She's still as warm hearted and beautiful as I remember her. I never dated her, though, because she's the social butterfly where I'm a lone wolf.


"Andy?" Robin says, "Are you alright, you're looking at me as if I've sprouted wings..."


"Ah, no you haven't Robin." I reply, awkwardly, "It's just been so long..."


"Five years give or take a day..." Robin replies, smiling.


God that smile is lovely, but a sniper should always be in control. He never loses it, for should he do so, he will die. But it isn't as though I'm on the battlefield, as I was on Ajilon Prime several weeks ago, whilst fighting the Klingons. A platoon of twenty of us held up the advance of the 16th Klingon Assault Regiment. But I digress, 'War stories are for those who have something to prove, Andy...' As my mentor used to say, further adding, 'A sniper, a true sniper, need not prove anything.'


That may be true, but the twenty of us on Ajilon Prime are credited with killing at least fifty Klingons in first forty eight hours of fighting. That's fifty confirmed kills, the number is likely much higher. But far more important than kills, we managed to delay the advance on the hospital to the south. We suffered not a single loss. That certainly is something for us to brag about in the bars.


It's one thing to kill someone in open combat. It's quite another to draw a bead on someone as they are dragging artillery pieces into place, sitting at a campfire, or sharpening their bat'leth for yet another combat and then 'drop the hammer' on them. For one the faces of those you kill in this manner never go away.


"I can't believe it's been that long." I reply to Robin, with a smile of my own.


"Keep in touch means just that, keep in touch." Robin says.


"I kept in touch." I protest.


"It's called a joke, Andy." Robin laughes, "Lighten up. I think you snipers are on a par with Vulcans in terms of how serious you can be."


"War does that to a guy." I reply tersely, with a bit more harshness than I intended.


"I'm sorry." Robin says, as her face lights up with recognition, "You were on Ajilon Prime!"


"I was." I reply.


"I saw your face on a news broadcast." Robin said, "It said that your STA platoon delayed the advance of an entire regiment of Klingons."


"It's true." I reply.


"Well, I'd best get to the bridge. Our first officer's coming aboard." Robin replies, heading for a nearby turbolift.


"Take care. It's really good to see you again." I say. Words fail me to describe the mixture of surprise and delight I feel at seeing my old Academy crush and closest female friend again.


Having nothing to do for the next hour, I decide to go find my platoon. My belongings will remain in the packing crate where they belong. My platoon chief, commonly referred to as chief scout, is Senior Chief Eulenspiegel.

"And I'm telling you, we need this space." I hear a clipped German accent just around the corner.

"You'll have to clear it with the Operations Officer. If she clears it, I don't have a problem with it."

I round the corner just as a compact fellow with a mustache and brown hair going gray runs solidly into me.

"Sorry sir." the man says, "I was just arguing with the brick wall over there."

His hand gestures to a large fellow who could best be described as a walking landmass. A Brikar, the genetically engineered race of rocklike strongmen and the envy of all body builders.

"Security idiots, don't know talent when they see it. I say we need that extra storeroom for our extra STA gear and he says that it's already being used. I insist he check the manifest and indeed the room is an extra few meters of cubic space unaccounted for and not in use. If he has his way, our equipment's gonna be lodged wherever we can find spaces and where curious crewmen can get their hands on it and screw it up. Then he says we've gotta clear it with the operations officer."


"I'll see what I can do. Lieutenant Andrew Hallum, USS Excalibur STA platoon." I say, extending a hand.

"Senior Chief Eulenspiegel, same unit, sir."


"Senior, I'll see what I can pull off." I reply, "The ops officer happens to be a close friend."

"Sir, I'd greatly appreciate it if you could do that." Eulenspiegel says.

"Let the platoon know to muster in about half an hour in the STA Locker, which is what we'll call Room 262 for now." I reply.

"Yes sir." Eulenspiegel replies.

* * * *

That being said I head to the bridge, where I catch sight of a snoring lieutenant asleep at the conn, an exotically beautiful Vulcan woman (takes a lot for me to say that, because as a whole I find Vulcans a puzzling race), and of course Robin.

"Robin, just the woman I was looking for." I say.

"They teach us to expect the unexpected at Starfleet Academy but I wasn't expecting a declaration of undying love before we even left the dock." Robin replies.

"Not exactly." Well, I do have feelings for her, but that wasn't what I was going to discuss, "Room 262 is unused at present, right?"

"It is." Robin replies.

"Well the security chief, Lieutenant Kebron, if I'm not mistaken, told my Chief Scout that the room was unavailable." I reply.

"I have no problem with the snipers using the room at all." Robin counters, "I'll allow it."

Robin, I could kiss you right here and now. But there'd be a few problems with that. One it'd be against regulations, public display of affection prohibited. Two, it's unprofessional for two officers, on duty and in uniform to be kissing on the bridge. And three, we're not involved romantically, and never were. As Commander Koenig used to say, "Emotions keep you vital as a man, but they're a detriment if you're a sniper."

As I walk back to the STA Locker I overhear two security officers, a lieutenant j.g. and an ensign talking.

"Murder Inc., that's all they are." One of them says.

"Excuse me, but I do believe you are refering to my outfit." I say, calmly.

Most of the snipers aboard are junior enlisted personnel, and this young punk of security officer shares a common attitude that most security men have about snipers. They're intimidated by us and hide it by their usual meat headed way.

"What's you're name?" I ask, calmly.

"Steadman, Lieutenant junior grade Steadman." The man replies. He's a compact, muscular fellow, typical 'pretty boy' fellow, the sort I absolutely despise. Back in the old days he and I would've come to blows, "What's you're name, sniper?"

"Well, I'm Lieutenant Andrew Hallum, Surveillance Target Accquisition platoon commander." I grin, emphasizing my own rank and seniority over this arrogant little prick. My smile tells him I can put a TR-116 round through the middle of his skull from almost any position at any range. He's fast losing face with the pretty young ensign he was trying to shine on.

"Well, don't turn your back, Murder Inc., I'd hate to have to..."

"Steadman, don't you have to be at your post." Kebron remarks, appearing from nowhere.

I think I might just revise my opinion on the Brikar. "This appears to be the start of a beautiful friendship." I quip.

"Whatever." Kebron says in a gravelly voice.

"Sir," Eulenspiegel says as he comes down the hall with a covered bundle under his arm, "I wonder if you'll allow this little decoration?"

"Go ahead." I say, "Show me."

He shows me an engraved plaque that reads: Room 262, Now Entering Sniper Country, STA Platoon, USS Excalibur.

"I like it." I reply, "Especially the slogan at the bottom."

"Attention Intruders. Don't Fear the Security Officers. Fear What HUNTS the Security Officers." I grin toothily as we put the placard to the left of the door. That outta make us a few enemies in Security.

~ ~ ~ ~

TBC

[Voy_Girl]

Woah, intriguing start! Romance and a promise of action... Write more!