#federation-class dreadnought

[grayrazor]

Work doodle this time is a Starfleet battleship and escorts.

[alphamecha-mkii]

Starfleet Command - Ulysses Class Dreadnought

[frogblast-the-ventcore]

USS Sorcerer (NCC-9670-B), Arlington-class long-range fast dreadnought:

(Arlington-class reference art via @MarcSherwood8 on Twitter)

The Arlington-class dreadnought USS Sorcerer (NCC-9670-B) started her life as an Odyssey-class dreadnought, one of the sister ships of the USS Enterprise-F. Like her famous sister, the Sorcerer was heavily damaged in the 2411 Battle of Midnight, the climactic battle of the Iconian War, fought above Earth. The Sorcerer lay in spacedock above Mars for several years as subsequent events redirected Federation shipbuilding towards new endeavors. Finally beginning reconstruction in 2412, she saw several planned refit suggestions come and go - first, she was to be rebuilt to Odyssey-class standard, then to the upgraded Yorktown-class refit, then the upgunned Lexington-class subclass of the Yorktown-class. Finally, in 2414, it was decided that the Sorcerer would become the second in the newly designed Arlington-class of long-range fast-response dreadnoughts, to spearhead a new Federation effort to explore the Gamma Quadrant alongside the Federation's allies in the Klingon Empire, Romulan Republic, Tzenkethi Coalition, and the newly peaceful Dominion, as well as follow up on issues related to the Hur'q Crisis of 2411. Under the command of Captain Yanute, the vessel was relaunched on January 1, 2416, the 5th anniversary of the Battle of Midnight.

The Arlington-class long-range fast dreadnought:

As a descendant of the Odyssey-class, the Arlington is one of the largest ships ever built by the Federation; the subclass measures 1041.5 meters long, 385.22 meters at the beam, with a draught of over 200 meters, and a mass of over 7.25 million metric tons. With a crew of over 900, space for a full Starfleet Marine Corps battalion of 800+ members, and an embarked air wing of 400 personnel, the immense long-range vessel is thusly provided with a laundry list of amenities ranging from an internal promenade/mall, a dozen holodecks, two arboretums, two internal pool/sauna complexes, three main social lounges, and dozens of observation areas.

Able to maintain quantum slipstream travel for a full six hours, the Arlington-class combines its impressive speed with some of the heaviest firepower ever added to a Federation vessel. Boasting 29 MkXV phaser arrays, 4 light and 4 heavy MkXV pulsed phaser cannons, and a whopping 14 multipurpose torpedo/probe launch tubes. These tubes are capable of fully automated loading of the full Federation probe range, as well as photon, quantum, and transphasic torpedoes, the latter-most only available in limited quantities due to weapons limitation treaties.

In addition, the Arlington-class carries over the Lexington-class's phaser spinal lance, capable of devastating damage against vessels even larger than the Arlington. The phaser lance has been colloquially nicknamed the "Wave Motion Gun" by Lexington- and Arlington-class crew members, as it's immense energy discharge resembles that of a similarly devastating weapon from a late 20th century Earth science fiction franchise.

The Arlington also plays host and mother ship to an Eagle-class light "parasite" escort, itself a formidable and agile vessel, armed with multiple phaser arrays, four phaser cannons, and four torpedo tubes. A full wing of 60 Federation Aerospace Force Valkyrie aerospace fighters, falling under the command of the vessels' Commander Air Group, rounds out the vessels' firepower.

Defenses consist of a quadruple-layer hyper-capacitor-based metaphasic shield array, a full meter of albative armor, and a full suite of phaser- and microtorpedo-based CIWS systems; the Arlington is also fitted for but not with a Nanotech Molecular Ablative Generator field array, based on technology from an alternate 25th century.

[jpitha]

Just a Little Further 40 - epilogue

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39

The playback ends. A woman leans over her large metal desk and takes the device, putting it in a strong metal case. It closes with a satisfying click. The woman pressed a button on her desk and the lights in the room dimmed.

"From here on out, this interview is being recorded in a full sensorium. Audio, visual, tactile and spatial recordings are being made. State your legal name and confirm your consent."

"I, Gord Beaverbrook, consent to the recording."

"Are you known by any aliases?"

"None that haven't already passed the Statute of Limitations."

"Thank you Gord, Interview commences." She makes a note on a pad and looks up at Gord. "The recording you heard was a compiled diary from Empress Melody Mullen that started as she departed on FarReach and ended right before she linked over to Sol." The woman busied herself locking the case as she spoke. "Melody's diary coupled with some interviews from residents of the Reach give us a pretty complete view of Melody's time as Empress.

The woman takes out a complicated looking key and opens a drawer in the desk. She puts the case in a drawer, closes and locks it, then turns back to the man in the chair. "You're up to date now. You know what we know. You went out to see her right before the invasion. Anything you care to add?"

Gord leans back and runs his hands through his sandy blond hair. "You should have seen the place Meg, there were 13 million people on that Starbase. They all were happy, healthy, living their lives, loving their Empress."

"And yet, the AI coalition unilaterally decided to assassinate her and remove her from the Sol system by any means necessary. From what I understand, after the anti-nanite gas was deployed you additionally destroyed sixteen Calamity Class super Dreadnoughts." Meg raises an eyebrow.

Meghan Felasheer was the current head of Intelligence for the Outer Planet Alliance. Officially, the OPA is a loose federation of Orbitals, Starbases and scientific research stations and each handles their own day to day operation. But, since first Venus and then Melody started to expand, they have condensed into a much more coherent polity.

With that condensation comes agencies and authorities to help with the operation of said polity. Meghan is the output of this natural process. She does not like her job. Meghan would much rather garden or work in environmental processing or join the Fire Brigade or do anything other than what she's doing now. Still, needs must.

Gord sighs and looks at Meg. This interview was demanded by the OPA after the last of Melody's ships were destroyed and Reach of the Might of Vzzx was linked to Sol. Relations between the AIs and BIs are... strained right now. "Meg, do you know what happened when we recaptured Venus? When we retook Luna?"

"No Gord, tell me what happened when the AIs captured Venus and Luna?" She pointedly did not say 'recaptured.'

"The same thing that happened at every place we took back. They begged us for her return Meg. Begged us." Gord looks haunted. "We had to tell them all the Builders were dead and were never coming back. Meg, there were riots. We quelled the riots and-" Gord sighed. "-lots of innocent people died that didn't have to."

Meghan stares stonily at Gord. "My name is Meghan, Gord." She was on Luna when Melody came. She saw her Empress in person.

Melody's super dreadnoughts caught everyone completely by surprise. Her fleet linked in near Venus, and after a very nominal defense mounted by some tired orbital rear guard, they almost immediately surrendered. Venus was on the brink of starvation anyway, and the Emperor's inner circle saw in Melody a chance of survival. The Emperor suffered an "unfortunate accident" and Melody was contacted. The Emperor was cold and forgotten before Melody even landed in Regantown.

The King is dead, long live the King.

The Mercury Array went just as easily. She didn't even send the whole fleet. Two of her Calamity Class super dreadnoughts linked in near the main offices of the Array and they surrendered. Their first request? Fresh water. Venus hadn't delivered any in months and their recyclers were nearly spent. Everyone had spent the last 4 months there drinking metallic tasting water.

Empress Melody immediately rendered aid. A group of her Builders went down to the array and replaced their water recyclers and brought them gigaliters of water.

Melody spent a month around Venus, visiting all the Floating Cities, using her Voice on the administrators - never the populace - and explaining that they were there to help and give aid however they could. She brought over more Builders and they worked to shore up the cities and make sure all systems were working as they should.

She was loved. She did things their previous Emperor never did. She visited, she spoke with people, she listened.

Only once she was convinced the Floating Cities were in good hands did she set her sites on the domed cities of Luna.

Once again, the moment her fleet linked in, everyone surrendered. Anyone was better than the Venusians, and Melody was gaining a reputation as a just and caring ruler in Sol.

Just like before, she visited all the locations, made a speech, used her voice on the Administrators only and... fixed their problems. Meghan was in the crowd for a speech in the domed city Armstrong. Melody was... radiant. Beautiful, with golden wings and a golden crown, she stood there with her wife Ava and told everyone that things were going to change. Melody would take care of them. She would make sure they weren't forgotten. For people too used to only hearing about what was going on with K'lax and the Independent Starbases and Colony worlds, hearing Melody tell them she was there for them and would look after them? That was worth loyalty to their new Empress.

Earth... was another story.

Earth was very used to people coming to power, making grand proclamations about who was in charge of what and what would or would not change when Empress Melody was in charge. Earth fought back.

It was a bloodbath.

Earth, the Lagrange Orbitals and the stations in LEO formed an uneasy alliance and worked to repel the invaders. Forces that normally were against Venus pivoted immediately to Melody's forces. Being the cradle of Humanity, Earth had people and resources to spare, and they threw them at Melody's empire.

It was then, that everyone saw what Melody's forces would do when pressed. They would hammer an Orbital until it surrendered, then come aboard and Voice everyone - not just the administrators - explain what was happening, that they were in charge and would move on to the next. Empress Melody accepted no compromise, no power sharing, nothing. It would be Empress Melody, or destruction.

Some Orbitals capitulated when this was learned, and some... chose destruction.

With Low Earth Orbit and the Lagrange points captured, Melody gave the planetary forces another change to surrender before orbital bombardment would commence. The deadline passed, and her terrifying Calamity Class super Dreadnoughts Began their work.

The bombardment went on for only two days before Earth surrendered. Millions perished. This time, due to the size and population, Melody did not personally go down and use her Voice. 3 dreadnoughts were left in orbit as a reminder and she continued on. She had planned on coming back after the rest of Sol was captured.

Melody and her fleet and then linked near to Mars and opened a dialog with the OPA. Everyone was tired of war, frightened of Melody or both, and here she comes, fresh off of a successful devastating attack on Earth, the home of Humanity itself.

The OPA was prepared to offer her nominal control as well as recognition and taxes in exchange for safety and support. Everyone was getting ready to sign a treaty.

Then, the AIs came.

Over fifty Starjumpers and easily that many ancillary craft linked in over Mars and immediately starting attacking Melody's new super dreadnoughts. There was no radio contact, no demands of surrender.

If Melody had more ships, she would have won.

As it was, the AIs took terrible losses. Melody's Calamity Class super Dreadnoughts were deadly. They had the power to take on two Starjumpers at once and hold their own.

Centimeter by centimeter the AIs pushed Melody's forces back. The sky behind them littered with the burnt out hulks of Starjumpers and Calamity Class super Dreadnoughts.

It was then that the everyone learned that the AIs had personal wormhole generators. It was long rumored, but the AIs had swore up and down that even though their bodies were powered by the same kind of reactor as their ships that "a personal wormhole generator is a fantasy. Nobody can shrink them down that far."

It was a lie.

The AI troopers would link into Melody's ships and release their anti-nanite gas and link away, without firing a shot.

When people learned about the anti-nanite gas they were horrified.

It was assumed by the Venus, Luna, the OPA and others that the Nanites were sapient. Melody agreed with them and had said how she was treating her Nanites as if they were sapient almost from the beginning. The AIs seemingly didn't care.

The AI's learned about the Nanites from FarReach. Her air was filled with Builder nanomachines. Upon her return, AIs scientists were able to collect, reverse engineer, and develop a disassembly command for them. As they released their anti-nanite gas, the nanites would take themselves apart.

The Builders, who received their augmentations as a result of the Nanites died almost immediately after the gas was released.

As the Builders died, Melody's war of conquest died as well.

Melody fell back, first to Luna, then to Venus and finally back to Reach of the Might of Vzzx, each time inflicting terrible losses on the AIs, but all the while, she was being slowly taken apart by the anti-nanite gas. The AIs had the upper hand now, all they had to do was wait her out.

Six months to the day after she had launched her attack she was killed.

A group of AIs linked into the Reach from a Starjumper that was light-years out of sight, a surprise attack. They released their gas in key locations around the Reach and into the environmental systems.

After a day, they AIs came back with their Starjumper and strode in. The AIs confirmed that Empress Melody Mullen and her wife Ava Williams died in the bath, in her Palace, on Reach of the Might of Vzzx.

With the death of the Builders, and the anti-nanite gas ensuring no more would be created, the AIs had to decide what to do with Reach of the Might of Vzzx. Starjumpers were strapped to the outside, and it, along with the Heinlein and Besmara Shipyards, were linked back to the Sol system. Over AI objections, the OPA took the Reach for their own, and worked with the residents to shore up the Builder systems and install systems that would work without Builder control.

In the Sol system, the AIs were not seen as the rescuing liberators they thought they would be seen as. Everywhere they went, the AIs were asked why was the Empire being destroyed, why were they persecuting Melody, why were they trying to prevent the people from getting the help they need.

Gord looks at Meghan. "Meghan, you have to understand. Melody was too dangerous."

Meghan stared at Gord.

"She was nice, yes, and she took care of her people, yes and the Reach was frankly an amazing place, and we will even admit that she was helping people in Sol, but her power... it was too much."

Meghan stared at Gord.

"All that had to happen was for the next Empress not be as kind or loving as Melody, and you would have been under her heel, forever."

Meghan stared at Gord.

Gord's face screws into a snarl. "We were looking out for all of you! Melody's power was too much. Nobody should be able to give orders that can't be disobeyed. Humanity should not be under the rule of a single person! Did you see Earth? Earth said no and she glassed at least three cities! I know what it looks like." Gord sighed. "Meghan we-"

"Enough." Meghan holds up her hand. "Gord. Who is the leader of the AIs."

Gord looks confused. "We don't have one. We're not a nation."

"Under what banner did the AIs band together to destroy Melody's empire?"

"None. We came together as a group and decided to act."

"Who speaks for the AIs? If not you, then why did you accept our summons?"

Gord crosses his arms. "I am not in charge of the AIs. I'm old. Most AIs respect me and listen to me."

Meghan turns and looks out the window of her office out onto Hyacinth. She looks out at the people walking below, going to work, living their lives, trying to get on without their Empress. She turns back.

Meghan looks through Gord. Her eyes flick and she meets his gaze. "Gord, Do you know what this looks like to us? I mean, really? It looks like you forced us to trade one tyrant who cared about her people, who worked very hard to make sure everyone had what they needed and were taken care of for a different tyrant who only wanted to keep the status quo. You never once asked us if this was what we wanted. You didn't ask, because you were afraid of the answer." As she speaks, Gord looks away.

Meghan looked down at her pad, and flicked to another page. "Gord, do you know what's happening on K'lax?"

Gord looks back and blinks. "No, wha-"

Meghan slams her pad down on the desk. "There's a holy war going on at K'lax right now Gord. The Pro-Empress faction is fighting the Anti-Empress faction. Reports coming back to us are saying it's quite bloody. Both sides have requested human help. There are also reports that the Anti-Empress faction is receiving AI help."

"Gord throws up his hands. "Meghan, we did what we had to do. Even if you don't believe me, even if humanity never believes us, know that we think - no, we know that we are right. We are better off without the Builders, without the Nanites and without Empress Melody and her Voice."

Megan looked at Gord for much longer than was comfortable. Finally, she nodded to herself. She opened a desk drawer and took out a folio. Opening it carefully, she took a paper printout and handed it to Gord.

"What's this?"

"It's an edict. Note the signatories. OPA, High Mars, Luna, and the provisional Venusian government. Due to the 'unfortunate' actions taken by the AI faction against the Empress Melody and her Builders, the AI faction is hereby banned from the Sol system until further notice. Any current AI residents who wish to stay may remain behind, but all Colonial AIs will vacate."

Gord leaned back as if he was slapped. "What?" he whispered. "What about Earth?"

"Earth was not consulted. If they wish to coordinate action they will need to go through Luna. You are no longer welcome in Sol. You took it upon yourselves to remove someone you felt was a danger to you. This is the price you pay for your unilateral actions."

Meghan turned and faced the window. "You and all Colonial AIs within the system have twelve hours to vacate Sol. Any remaining Colonial AI ships will be fired upon by the nearest OPA ship." Turned back and faced Gord. "This interview has finished. The sensorium recording shall be encrypted and uploaded to all relevant parties and shall be seen as binding." She pressed a button on her desk and the lights in the room came up.

Gord stood. There was nothing else to do. "You'll be back. When you're over your snit, and realize we are right and you want to talk again, reach out. We'll be waiting." Without another word, he turned and walked out of the office. The door closed behind him with a soft click.

"Hail Empress Melody the First." A single tear fell from Meghan's cheek, and splashed onto her lap.

Meghan picked up her pad, and quickly sent out a message. From a location on the other side of Hyacinth, a beacon linked away.

Gord strode across the quad of the OPA Administrative offices towards the docking ring. He contacted his ship. "Hat" he said tersely. "We're being kicked out. You scan any friends who need a ride here?"

"Kicked out? I.. No Gord, it's just us."

"Good. Let's delta before they decide to make 12 hours 6."

Gord walked aboard his friend Medicine Hat. He climbed into the old familiar interior and cast his eye around. All around him were mementos of his travels and especially of Canada, where he originally from. Canada, like most countries on Earth is long gone, but he keeps her memory alive.

Gord looks down at a console. "Any AI ships in system? We need to let them know they gotta boogie before the OPA opens fire." He sent a digital copy of the edict to Hat who whistled low when he read it.

"Gord, they're kicking us out? We're being targeted by 3 separate ships. They are all flying OPA colors. Weapons aren't hot, but they're using active pings. They want us to know they see us."

Gord narrows his eyes. They aren't playing. "Colonial AIs are no longer welcome in Sol, yes."

"But... we saved them."

Gord sat in his command chair. It was overstuffed and soft and upholstered in flannel. "They don't see it that way, friend. We acted too late it looks like. Earth understood what was at stake, but the former Venusian territories just saw a nicer version of what they had already."

"I mean, I didn't expect a ticker-tape parade when we were done, but this? This feels too much. What about AI residents? I admit there weren't too many who stayed in Sol after Venus and everything, but there were some."

"They accounted for that. Any permanent AI residents are allowed to stay with full rights and privileges. They just want the 'interlopers' out." Gord sounded sad and bitter when he was explaining to Hat. "Let any of them that we still have numbers for know that heading to Earth is probably a smart idea right now. FarReach really scared us with her report. When I went out, I was concerned but, not really like, worried until she tried to use her Voice on me."

"You said it didn't work though."

"It didn't stick is what I said. It worked for about six hours. Long enough for her to convince me that everything was fine and for us to trade some maple for some tea and for me to leave. I came to my senses right after I linked home. By the time I gave my report, she had linked to Venus and begun. She must have realized it didn't work and that if she didn't go right then we were going to assassinate her."

"But, we weren't going to assassinate her Gord, right?"

Gord sits in the chair, and starts sending the edict to AI ships in system, letting them know it's time to go.

"Gord?"

Gord sighs and leans his head back, staring at the ceiling. "No, she was completely right Hat, that's the bitch of it. We would have had to assassinate her. This was the only way it was going to go down. Our only hope was that we would have to deal with a broken Reach of the Might of Vzzx, but we were too slow. Earth said no, and she started glassing cities. She wasn't going to take any other answer than "All Hail Empress Melody."

"Well what now then Gord? You're still legally a resident of Earth."

Gord sighed. "I am, but I can't say I'm too... excited about the thought of hanging around here right now. We'll obey the edict for now. Let's link to Meíhuā. We haven't been there in a while, I bet some folks will want some maple syrup."

Medicine Hat sighed. "You got it Gord."

****

Near Venus, a message beacon appeared, beamed a message and then destroyed itself. The report was decrypted and read under Regantown.

"Hyacinth reporting."

"And?"

"The edict has been delivered. Gord and the AIs are leaving Sol now."

"Do they suspect anything?"

"No, Helen. Melody's plan worked completely."

Helen Raaden wiped a tear from her eye. "She should have hid with us. She did not need to sacrifice herself."

"She needed it to work Helen. She knew that her body was going to be the only thing that satisfied the AI faction." Um'reli looked up from her chair in the Command Deck of the Lavinia. "the AIs have been given 12 hours to vacate."

Helen leaned back in her chair, exasperated. "I still don't see why it has to be me."

"It was Melody's last wish. She said you would be best able to lead after her."

"We can't be the only Builders left though, can we?"

"You know we are Helen. Omar died when our Dreadnought was caught in the firefight early on over High Mars and the others perished as the anti-nanite gas tore through them. Frankly, I'm surprised that the Reach survived at all." Um'reli sniffs and wipes a tear at the memory. She was onboard Raaden's ship when her ship was taken by surprise and destroyed by the AIs.

Grand Admiral Helen Raaden sighed. "I'm glad it did. If the AI faction had murdered the 13 million people on the Reach, especially all those different sapients who live nowhere else it would have been unforgivable. As it is, everyone in Sol is not a fan of the AIs right now."

Um'reli looked up at her. "What about Earth and the colony worlds?"

"We heard from Parvati and Meíhuā before things fell apart. They had officially recognized the rule of Empress Melody in Sol so long as she wasn't planning on visiting. I can only assume they'll recognize the rule of the next Empress. As for Earth...We'll take care of Earth this time. Did anyone ever hear from K'lax?"

Um'reli's ears flicked frustration. "I heard that there's some kind of civil war going on. The Pro Melody faction against the Anti Melody faction." She turned away. "It's rough right now. She got up from her chair and walked over to Helen. She put her small hand on her shoulder. "I wish Melody was here."

Helen reached up and squeezed her hand on her shoulder. "I know. Me too."

"This won't be as easy as it was the first time."

Helen shrugged. "It will and it won't. We don't have the firepower to back up the words, but most everyone in Sol liked Melody. They'll see us - me - as an extension of that rule. I think it'll work." Helen looked up to the navigation officer. "Take us down. Use the coordinates the Empress gave us."

"Aye, Grand Admiral."

The Vengeance of Lavinia II detached from underneath Regantown where it was hiding and sank into the thick, heavy atmosphere of Venus. As it went lower and lower, the huge Calamity Class super Dreadnought creaked and moaned in protest to the higher pressures. She was well built though, and the atmospheric control surfaces aided in control.

A few hours later they were above the location given to them by Melody before she and Ava linked back to the Reach for their final stand. Slowly the massive ship settled lower and lower until it touched the hot surface of Venus.

"Contact, Grand Admiral. We're down."

Helen nodded. "Thank you. We'll suit up and walk to the coordinates." Um'reli stood from her station and looked at Helen, who also stood to leave.

An Engineering officer looked up. "Please make haste Grand Admiral. We can only stay at this depth for a few hours before we start to take damage."

Helen and Um'reli suited up in special high pressure suits. The Venusians were familiar with going to the surface, and their designs were well tested and safe. Um'reli's suit had to be tweaked a bit for her K'laxi frame, but she was able to work with the printer team to get it fitted. They completed checks and cycled the airlock.

The surface of Venus is intense.

Dark, rocky and windy, it was difficult going even in their suits. After 10 minutes of hiking, they found the wreckage.

Helen and Um'reli looked over the pile of twisted metal towering over them that Melody's coordinates led to.

"This is a Gate?" Helen sounded exasperated over the radio link.

"Melody says it's the Sol Gate. It showed up in her Gate census, so she says it still has power."

"Ugh. Okay then." Helen looked around and saw what could charitably be called the remains of a doorway. "I guess... we'll go in and look."

As they walked in, the howling wind of the Venusian surface quieted. It was still incredibly hot, but at least they didn't have to lean into the wind now.

Um'reli reached out with her Nanites. The feelings she got were very faint but... "I think I can feel it Helen. Try reaching out."

Helen reached out as well and... there, over in the corner. "Yes, I feel it too Um'reli."

They walked over to the corner that they felt, and laying on it's side, with corners chipped but otherwise intact was a directory stone.

Helen looked over at Um'reli "What do I do?"

Um'reli flicked her years in worry, but that was hidden by her helmet. "Melody said to just touch it, and the Nanites will do the rest."

"Well, here goes nothing then." Helen reached out, and with an armored glove, touched the directory stone. There was no flash, no dramatic lighting, no noise, just...

Hi Helen! I'm so glad you made it!

Melody? Aren't you dead?

Yes, I am. But I am also the memory of her that was recorded by the Nanites and uploaded. As long as there is an Empress, I will never truly die. And now, neither will you...

Helen came to on the floor with Um'reli shaking her. "Helen! You gotta get up. I can't carry you myself. It's time to go!"

Helen put an arm up to stop Um'reli. "Ugh. Okay, I'm up, I'm up." She sat up. "How long was I out?

"30 seconds maybe? It wasn't long. You touched the stone and threw your head back and fell over. What happened?"

"I... I talked to Melody, or the memory of her, or something. She said that the Nanites record memories and pass them on to future Empresses."

"So that's it then? You're Empress?"

Helen stood. She - at the same time - felt like herself and also felt different than before.

Oh you're taking to this much easier than Melody did. Good work. She was right, you'll be a great Empress.

She turned to Um'reli. "Yes, I am Empress."

Um'reli bowed low. "Empress. Welcome back."

Helen looked down at Um'reli and for a moment, her perception was felt... down time across as She looked at her subject. This was right. This was how it was supposed to be. Empress Helen Raaden nodded.

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And that's it! Thanks so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing. This was a real challenge for me, it was my first time writing long form first person, my first time trying out a YA-ish style of story and my first Villain Perspective.

So yes, Word Of Author, Melody was not the Hero. She thought she was, and she surrounded herself with people that thought she was too. By only (deliberately) including her POV it was tough to tell.

Like at the end of HD, I'm going to take a week or two to rest, and compile this into a single doc and do some first pass editing. The writing really is the fun part, all that other stuff after is less so. Someone needs to hire me a team of editors to take care of that part! :D

I have a few ideas for the next one too. I liked how most of JALF took place only in one location, I might try and narrow focus down even further. Maybe in a single city or something, give it a real cyberpunk vibe. My universe is large enough that there can be all kinds of different settings available to play in.

Thanks again for reading!

[stra-tek]

Eaglemoss models on display at Ten Forward, BTS shot from PIC S03E01. This display includes the three-nacelled Federation-class Dreadnought from the 1975 Star Fleet Technical Manual (by Franz Joseph Schnaubelt), which was never a commercially available model. From Terry Matalas on Twitter.

[morns-fevered-dream]

Ok I'm not sure if the next episode is out yet but due to a current boycott of Paramount and Paramount+ I'm watching this from a pirate cove and I'd encourage you to do the same and without further ado live blogging of Star Trek Discovery and as always 🌟SPOILERS🌟

Season 5 Episode 7

It's doing the as seen in the last episode thing I forgot about the deal Burnham offered future bonnie and clyde

Ahh the Merian Class I like it feels both Federation like a even more futuristic Nebula or Stargazer class but also feels huge especially compared to the tiny ship it has in a tractor beam

Return of Nhan

Wait what's up with those all black uniforms it's not security looks vaguely like the black away team mission uniforms but not quite so what is it?

I like the judgmental looks from the security guard behind Nhan excellent extra

"You did this to him!" He literally fell on his own knife

Breen dreadnought haha going to the HQ of the Federation come on we all saw of DS9 did against a Klingon fleet or the HQ in Picard against the Federation fleet I mean how big bad and scary can a single Dreadnought be?

Breen Emperor sounds like a interesting fellow

A Breen royal family with a bloodline oh the classic Monarchy

Oh damn Rayner got kicked out of the room

Stamets passed that speech check wow

Oh My Reno

OH MY GOD That Breen Dreadnought is huge biggest then HQ, Discovery and Merian Class ship together that has to be one of the biggest ships in Star Trek considering how big Discovery is and all the drama in Trek Ship nnthusiast circles in how big the 32nd century ships are this Breen Ship has to be something else entirely good lord

Scans can't get through shields even with 32nd century technology damn

I like Book and Stamets friendship

Always good to see Reno

Ooooh T'Rina knows what your saying

Oh damn this Breen intrigue is interesting especially because the old 23rd century Breen were called the Breen Confederacy and confederacy means a confederation of separate entities so infighting between those separate entities is fun

Stamets again with the power of speech

Damn that Breen Medic looks cool with the logo and everything

I get Booker is trying to argue the classic it's wrong to sacrifice someone but she's the one who came up with the idea and is advocating for it

Oh wow I really love that perspective from Burnham comparing Rayner earlier outburst to her mutiny lots of self reflection maybe that is just because of the meeting your past self thing recently but still

Back to the Badlands we go I always thought it was one of the coolest looking locations in Star Trek

A great episode with lots of intrigue I really liked this one and the big bad Primarch is a fun villain and I'd prefer him to bonnie and clyde for being a big villain of the season sorry for any spelling mistakes I'm tired and I know the new episode is out I'll live blog that one later

[thisshrimpisfryingrice]

I like to see my beloved USS Vengeance as a star fleet vessel to help protect other star fleet vessels and federation space.

Given the shit Kirk, Picard and the others captain went through. The many close calls they had, it’s pretty obvious that other exploring parties went through similar situations. Not all vessels are as good equipped as the enterprise. If they need rescue in difficult space or from potential threats. A ship from the dreadnought-class would be the best fit.

[hazel-of-sodor]

Bakers Dozen: Liscensed Ships I want in Star Trek Online

Welcome back to Bakers Dozen! This time we return to Star Trek Online ships, but instead of canon, its liscensed. Simply put, 12 ships (and one honorable mention) I want in STO, that aren’t canon, but appeared in an offical Star Trek Product (Books, Comics, Games, Ect.)

1.Premonition Class 

Hailing from Star Trek Armada, The U.S.S. Premonition went back in time to warn the Enterprise E of an impeding borg invasion. I never had the full game, but I played the demo countless times. Just look at her. She aleady looks like an Sto ship. One of the most iconic Star Trek Video games ships, I think she would be a great ship to appear in the current arc time/multiverse themed arc.

2.Yorktown Class (ENT Era)

Long before Captain Seven of Nine commanded the enterprise, and even long before STO. There was a Yorktown Class Starship in Star Trek Legacy. Star Trek legacy was the first star trek game I owned, and the Yorktown was a favorite of mine. The battleship to the NX Cruiser, the Yorktown was a powerhouse in the 22nd century. She’d need a new name, as the current Enterprise in STO is a very different Yorktown Class, but we could always use more Enterprise era ships.

3.Belknap/Ascension Class

Quite possibly my favorite TMP Era design (yes including the refit) The Belknap from  Ships of the Star Fleet Vol. 1 is the Constitution Refit’s smaller agile cousin. Stripped of diplomatic suites and scientic labratories, the Belknap posseses the Constituion’s firepower in a more compact and agile frame.

A “Dreadnoght” version exists, the Ascension class, but it’s literally a Belnap with the third nacelle of a Federation classs refit, maybe to give her longer warp sustainability?

4.Andor Class

This TMP era missle cruiser was introduced with FASA, and I loved this odd ball. I could see her functioning as a TMP era defiant, a small ship darting in with heavy torpedo fire. Also more TMP is always a win

5.Archer Class

Apperaing in the Star Trek Vangaurd Novels, this was a tiny tos scout ship, with only a crew of 14, and still didn’t have enough room for personal bunks. Incredibly fast and agile, she was too small for turbolifts, instead only having ladders.  Pls let me 1v1 a cube with this smol ship. Also TOS Ships are always a win.

6. Aegis Class

The U.S.S. Aegis is the hero ship of Star Trek Bridge Crew, and my god what a gorgeous ship. STO needs more Kelvin ships, and what better one than a proper Hero ship that has her own games, and looks this good?

7.Romulan Warbird, Unknown Class

This Stormbird (Romulan D7) esk dreadnought appeared in the DC Star Trek Comics in the 80s. Decades later, younger me would find the comics as a kid, and fall in love with this oship. Romulan TMP Warbird? Sign me up! Pls?

Also this comic has this awesome shot

8.USS Dorothy Garrod

From the IDW Dicovery Comic, this Federation science vessel looks cool. Thats it. Thats all I know. Discovery rep is always a win.

9.D-18 Gull Class

A Klingon ship from Fasa, this is a troop transport. Its weird and I love it. I had a fried who 3d prints move the neck to the top of the secondary hull and flip the bridge module upside down for a more traditional look, but I dont have any good pics of her on hand.

10. Chandley Class

Speaking of troop transports, The Chandley is perhaps Fasa’s most popular ship, and its not hard to see why. Maybe Sto, could give her a boarding console. 

11.Saladin/Hermes

Orginally appearing in the Star Fleet Technical Manual by Franz Joseph, this ship has TOS and TMP varaints, as well as a Kelving timeline version from both the comics and Star Trek Fleet Command. Simple yet iconic, with so many flavors. Legendary Discovery Variant?

12.Insignia Class

This gorgeous ship originally was a fan design, then was included in the Ships of the Line calender. It later appeared in the TNG Waypoint comics as the ‘Chimer’ class...USS ENTERPRISE???

This version of the Enterprise served at the same time as the Enteprise E (ummmm?) and was commanded by Geordi La Forge.

The Chimer name sucks though. Insignia class is a way better name.

Honorable Mention:

Locknar class

Another Fasa Ship, this is an honorable mention bc it is kinda...maybe...canon?

In Lower Decks we she the USS Titan’s lineage wall...including what was confirmed to be a Locknar class USS Titan?

Yes I am a TOS/TMP nerd, how can you tell?

[tsaomengde]

Star Trek: Infinite review

I love Stellaris, and I love Star Trek. I do not love mods, by and large, because I like playing the game the developers envisioned, with a minimum of bugs. So when I heard there was a Star Trek grand strategy game based on the bones of Stellaris coming out, I was excited.

Here's the thing, though: this doesn't feel like Star Trek. In Stellaris, it makes sense to have the entire game take place over a 300-year span of time. In Star Trek? You could do that if you were going from the ENT era in the 22nd century all the way up through current-day Trek TV like Picard, which goes into the 25th. That would have been something worthwhile.

But the entire game is set in the TNG era, the best-known and most-popular era. And as a result, a lot of the Stuff That Happens is stuffed into the first 70 years. The Borg? They show up and you deal with them before you even have battleships. They're far from an existential threat, too. There is a system full of Nausicaan pirates with twenty times the fleet power the Borg ever possess. The Romulan sun exploding, something that happens toward the very end of the 24th century? For some reason it gets moved up so you have to deal with it at the same time as the Borg.

Things Just Happen because they happened in canon, whether it makes sense for your game or not. The Federation mission tree wants me to free Bajor from the Cardassians, but they integrated Bajor decades ago. And I can't declare an offensive war, so, well, fuck me I guess.

The adherence to the Stellaris formula of "science ships, frigates, destroyers, cruisers, battleships, dreadnoughts" means that you have a bunch of Oberth-class ships running around doing all your exploring, and then everything else sits at home doing nothing until there's a war. The Enterprise is an exception, it can absolutely go and investigate anomalies and explore the galaxy, but you also can't stick it in a fleet, and you can't customize it despite customization being a big part of the shipbuilding in Stellaris games...

This is nitpicky, but speaking of shipbuilding, for the Federation, your frigate is the Miranda (okay), your destroyer is the Intrepid (what? it's a long-range science ship!), your cruiser is the Excelsior (a design canonically almost a hundred years old at this point in TNG, and yet you research it *after the Intrepid*), your battleship the Galaxy, and your dreadnought the Sovereign. If you complete the Enterprise's mission tree you also get the Defiant, which is *kind* of like a heavy destroyer-frigate-thing in this game (but the Defiant has never been properly represented in basically any Trek game ever). There's no hide nor hair of the much-beloved Akira class, which would make a much better cruiser given the setting.

Your ships also just don't feel like Star Trek ships. The correct answer to any problem is to throw as many ships as you can at it. In Stellaris, that means fleets of dozens of battleships and dreadnoughts. In some of the newer Trek media, and in certain war scenes in DS9, you see fleets of this size, but by and large, Trek is at its most interesting when the number of ships is lower, comprehensible. When the ships feel *important.* These don't.

The weaponry you're obliged to research also doesn't feel like the iconic Star Trek weaponry. It doesn't make the right noises. This is *very* nitpicky but Trekkies are a nitpicky breed. If you sell me a Star Trek game, I want it to be Star Trek. The sound design is iconic, and a vital part of the experience.

Speaking of iconic, the characters from TNG are voiceless portraits. No gorgeous Pat Stew baritones to be found heyah. Oh, and they die of old age. Including Data! That might be a bug, but still. If you are anything like me, you do not buy a Star Trek game set in the TNG era to watch Picard die of old age. Yes, mods exist. See my very first paragraph about not wanting to use them.

I am probably going to boot up Sins of a Solar Empire with the Star Trek: Armada 3 total conversion mod rather than play this again. There could be DLC. There could be bug-fixes. At its core, though, I don't think this game *works.* You can't stretch the TNG era, an era of about 40-60 years (the Khitomer Massacre, the starting point for this game, is 2346, the Big D launches in 2362 or so, and the end of PIcard season 3 is in 2402), into a game of 300 years. It just doesn't feel right. It doesn't work.

At least it was only $30. I used two GameStop $5 monthly discounts on steam gift cards to get the Cerritos for essentialy free.

[ship-o-rama]

Name: U.S.S. Federation

Registry: NCC-2100

Class: Federation-class Dreadnought

Year: 2269

Background: While in the Beta Aurilae system, the Federation was used as a clandestine meeting place between the captured Sub-Commander Tal of the Romulan Empire and a Starfleet Admiral to discuss a mutually beneficial agreement. Later on, they rendezvoused with the Enterprise just outside Gorn territory as it was being pursued by Klingon ships. The Klingons refused to stand down and a cloaked Starfleet armada revealed itself. A battle ensued in which the Klingons were eventually forced to withdraw. This engagement marked the end of Organian meddling in Federation/Klingon affairs. 

Appeared in Star Trek: Year Four “The Enterprise Experiment” issue 3,5, IDW Comics

[fizzycherrycola]

America & Canada, 1910s

Brotherly bonding, airplanes, and a future full of possibilities. Originally this fanfic was intended for a fanzine, however, I changed my mind at the last minute. Please enjoy!

Wingman

Ohio, USA; 26 July 1911

It’s warm, but not too much so. A wind glides over the Ohio farmland, caressing wheatfields, picking up bits of grass and straw, slipping between a wide crack in the barn doors and rustling Canada’s hair. He tucks a stray curl behind his ear, reminding himself for the third time this month that he should see a barber, or at least give it a quick trim himself.

That can wait, though. For now, he flips open the folded newspaper and spreads it over his lap.

‘Laurier Stumbles as Federal Election Looms Ahead’ 

The headline dominates the front page of the Toronto Star, bold letters weighing heavy with stamped ink across the flimsy newsprint. Canada sighs, thumbing the page corners of the three-day-old paper that he still hasn’t finished reading because his last attempt on yesterday’s train left him with a bout of motion sickness. He flips past the editorial fistfights over Reciprocity and glances briefly at America, who is too focused on tweaking his latest flying machine, bolts squeaking with every turn and tools clanking as they hit the floor, to notice his brother’s staring. And then he catches his fingers on what resembles a bicycle chain.

“Ow, fucking thing,” America hisses, shoving the injured digits in his mouth 

“Are you okay?” Canada asks.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” America grumbles, dismissively waving his greasy hand. “The chain drive can be a real pain sometimes. That’s not the first time it’s nicked me.”

“Need any help?”

“Nah, I’ve got it.”

“Are you sure?”

Without answering, America wipes his fingers on his oil-smudged overalls and dives back in, climbing between the massive canvas wings to reach an exposed motor near the centre of the craft.

Canada crosses his legs, leaning back in America’s creaky chair, the only one in this rickety barn-turned-workshop. A few years before, when news broke of the Wright Flyer’s success, America dropped all other hobbies to pursue machine-powered flight. And since then, he regularly insists that Canada should come witness his newest attempts at conquering the skies.

Currently, his feet are dangling over the edge of a wing. He’s likely going to be distracted for a while longer. Opening the newspaper to the international section, Canada resumes his reading.

‘Crisis in Agadir Intensifies; British PM Threatens Military Action’

Heart sinking, he groans. “Ah, geez....” Reluctantly, Canada scans the news story, each sentence laying a brick on his shoulders.

With fiery commentary, the article recants the crisis across the Atlantic, the most recent in a string of disputes between France and Germany. And Canada finds himself wondering, not for the first time, why England chose now to forge an alliance with his self-described ‘bitter rival’. Not that it’s Canada’s business, or that he’s unhappy about whatever accord they’ve reached. On the contrary, it’s quite nice to visit his guardian in London, find France there, and not have the scene devolve into a screeching maelstrom, but did it have to be now? With everything happening in the world, it feels almost like exchanging one type of chaos for another. Then again, as Scotland once mentioned, that’s par for geopolitics.

Eyes dragging down the grey column of text, Canada gnaws his lip, and there it is. ‘Britian to likely double demands for shipbuilding materials from across the empire as super-dreadnought class warships continue to dominate the naval arms-race.’ Groaning, Canada allows his face to fall into the paper, scratchy pulp crinkling against his glasses. “I don’t want to build any more boats,” he whines. “Can’t I just worry about an election instead of... twelve other things?”

Anxiety isn’t good for his health, but it’s difficult to relax when one’s days are spent making warships for a war that hasn’t come. There won’t be a war, though, will there? No, of course not. This is just how things are in Europe at the moment. Tense. Very much so. But, then again.... What if--

“Boo!”

Canada jumps. “Shit!” Legs shooting out, he topples over. Cobblestone meets his hip and elbow. The flimsy chair clatters in his wake.

“Woah!” America peers down at him, a goofy smirk stretching his features.  

“What-- Why did you...?”

“Hah! Sorry. You okay there? It’s not often that I hear you curse.”

“Well, you startled me, assho--…. Jerk.” Righting himself, Canada brushes the sawdust off his left side, giving one stubborn smudge a good smack.

“You looked so tense; I couldn’t help it! You were hunched over like a stone gargoyle.” America imitates the said statues by curving his back and making little claws with his fingers. “What’re you reading, anyway?”

“Oh,” Canada says as he gathers the scattered newspaper sheets. “Well, it’s... You see, it’s about the crisis in Agadir and I’m worried that-”

“The what in where?”

Canada blinks. “In Agadir. Haven’t you heard of it?”

“...Is Agadir one of Monaco’s cities?”

“What? No! It’s one of Morocco's.”

“Oh, okay” America chuckles. “Guess I got them mixed up.”

“And Monaco is a city-state, she doesn’t have any other cities.”

“Huh.” America glances up at the rafters, bottom lip firmly under his teeth. “That makes sense.”

Canada sighs, a long-suffering sound. “You should really pay more attention to what’s going on in Europe....”

“I do! Sort of. If it’s important.” Canada doesn’t glare, but he does wait patiently while staring pointedly at his brother. America shrugs. “All right, maybe I do get distracted sometimes, but can you blame me? Business is booming. I’ve got an economy to run and the inventions people are coming up with this century are way more fascinating than whatever’s happening in... where was it?”

“Agadir.”

“Right! You know what I mean, don’t you?”

“I do, but... Things aren’t exactly peaceful these days. I’m not sure that’s the right sort of attitude we should have, at the moment.”

‘We’, as in nations, of course. However, also as in brothers. As in two with everlasting ties across the Atlantic. But that part, Canada doesn’t say.

Wiping his messy hands with a towel, America turns away. “Listen... We’re flanked by oceans on both our east and west coasts. To your north, you have solid ice and to my south I’ve got Mexico, the entire Caribbean, and just... Europe is a world away.” Before Canada can internalise his sentiment, America changes tune. “Anyway, that’s not why we’re here in the first place. We’re here for flying machines and a good time, remember? Not politics.”

Fidgeting, a familiar tension in his shoulders, Canada nods. “I guess so. Yeah... Yeah, you’re right.”

His acceptance must have sounded more believable than it felt, because Alfred shoots him a smile. “Great. If you want, we can talk seriously later, but for now, the fixes are all done. Can you help me get this machine outside?” He jogs to the barn doors and drags their handles.

Pushing aside disappointment and adjusting expectations with a practised ease, Canada watches the doors open with a yawning creak.

Sunlight streams through the doors and loft windows, turning wooden walls to mustard, highlighting raw patches of damage caused by their owner’s contraptions. A scrape from a propeller blade, a dark stain from a splatter of engine grease; and against them are piled a plethora of building materials. Aluminium sheets, timber, and spools of cord replacing the livestock that once slept there.

Weaving between the mess of scraps, Canada reaches the left wing, grabs its canvas surface and when America arrives on the right side of the machine, they start pushing. It’s shockingly light, for being so large. A double-winged craft with two propellers, some type of tail, and a set of smaller wings on the front that stick out.

“Do you think this one will work?” Canada asks, partially to distract his anxieties, but also genuinely curious; wholly lost as to how this machine is meant to work.

“Definitely,” America responds. “It’s based on everything I’ve read about the Wright brothers’ flyer. Those two really know what they’re doing.” 

“You copied them?” 

“Of course not! I just took a bit of inspiration from their design. There wasn’t much to copy, anyway. They’ve been very secretive about their new machine. It’s a little annoying.” 

The corners of Canada’s lips tug upwards. “So, you tried to copy them, but couldn’t find enough information to do it.” 

“Shh!” 

America previously attempted flight with a few of his own unique contraptions. Most ended without major consequence, dying in the early testing stages when the odd machines simply broke apart when travelling faster than a brisk walk. Others, however, were disastrous, like when he tried launching his small glider off the top of a moving automobile and spent a week in hospital with a shattered spine. 

“I liked the one you built that had propellers stacked on top of each other, and instead of flying, it just bounced around the field.” 

America pouts. “Hey! That one was based on a design by Da Vinci, so it’s his fault that it didn’t work, not mine.” 

“It was the funniest one you made.” 

“Buddy, I am working on scientific miracles out here. They aren't always going to be graceful works of art.” America catches his gaze between the wire bracing. “And by the way, if you keep pulling my leg, I’m gonna launch you instead of this flyer.” 

Canada’s smile broadens. He shoves the machine and relishes the dust its wheels kick up – glad that he left his good clothes at home, the fancy suits and shoes that come courtesy of England’s pocketbook. Throwing his back into it as the sharp aroma of fertile farmland slams his nostrils on a long, sun-swept day; there are few things as satisfying as this.  

The flyer exits the barn, barely. Its wide wings graze the doorframe, but when it’s out, it greets an open field. Wind glides in from the West, swinging the weathervane atop America’s farmhouse and tugging insistently on the canvas wings. The two brothers take it a bit further, several metres before a gentle dip in the terrain.

“Okay, stand back!” America calls.

Canada does and his brother hops into the hip cradle, lying flat. In short seconds, he has the propellers spinning, the engine sputtering. Sluggish at first, then faster. And faster. Canada squints against the machine’s gust and watches it roll forward, accelerating towards the hill, a big craft carrying bigger dreams. Could this be the one that finally flies? Maybe... maybe?

He holds his breath, eyes wide. Great, white wings reach the edge of the slope, tilt up. So slightly, and then. It sinks, disappearing behind the hill. Canada’s heart drops.

He swears and dashes after his brother. God forbid he has to drag America to the hospital a second time. The machine swerves, skidding down the incline, but to its credit, doesn’t tip over or combust. Instead, it settles to a jerky stop in a patch of tall grass.

Canada jogs over, making it in time to see the propellers slow, engine going quiet.

“Fuck,” America bursts as he stumbles out of the cradle.

“What happened?” Canada asks, noting that America is uninjured.

“It’s the damn wind,” America gripes. “That ridge is North facing, but the wind is pushing West, so I had to fight it with the controls, and I couldn’t generate enough lift.”

“At least, you can be glad you didn’t crash.”

“Yeah, that’s great,” America sighs, sarcastically. “At least it wasn’t a total catastrophe, right?”

Canada frowns. “America.”

“Sorry. I just... it’s frustrating. That’s all.”

Pausing, Canada studies his brother, how America’s shoulders droop and his sky-blue eyes fixate on the ground. “You care about this a lot, don’t you?”

Rather than answer, America shoves his hands in his pockets and kicks a stone, looking 200 years younger. An expressive boy, always running faster than England could catch him, faster than Canada could challenge him, and faster than his own legs could carry him. Canada chews his lip. “If you had a North wind, would that be better?”

“That would be fantastic. It’d help me speed up, but I can’t control the weather.”

“Well, if you just need to go faster before um....”

“...Before lifting off the ground?”

“Yeah.” Canada points at the flying machine. “If it’s just that, then maybe I could push this tail part here-”

“The rudder.”

“-while you’re working the controls, and then, maybe you’d have enough speed?”

America hesitates, scratching the back of his neck. “I appreciate the offer, but... I kind of want to do this myself.” Canada’s frown deepens. “Dragging it out of the barn,” America continues, “is one thing. The flight test though, that’s, y’know... that’s the real deal! If I can’t do it myself, then....” 

The tension in Canada’s shoulders returns. “I may not know much about flying machines, but I do know that there are two Wright brothers. They didn’t work alone.”

“But I’ve been trying to get these machines working for years, this is like a milestone for me! It’s important.”

“I know it’s important to you! That’s why I want to help!”

America blinks. His mouth hangs open, trying to form words, but failing, whereas Canada’s jaw snaps shut. Impatience fizzling to shame, because shouting is awful and he’s never liked doing it, never liked hearing it from others, but sometimes with America, it’s the only way to get him to listen.  

Sighing, America glances away, looking everywhere except at his brother. His gaze lands on the flying machine, sitting silent in the grass. 

“...All right, let’s do it.” 

“Really?” 

“Yup!” America shrugs, already marching toward the machine. “We’ll give it a try.” 

They manoeuvre the craft out of the thicket and cart it up the slope in uneasy silence. Once back to its starting position, America begrudgingly points to where Canada can grab and push, an area of the rig that won’t interfere with the complex turning system. Then, he hops in the hip cradle and again brings the motor to life. 

This close to the propellers, they feel like storm winds, whirring with energy.  

Canada’s eyes water, dust hitting his glasses and spraying his front. He braces and thrusts, fingers wrapped tight around the wooden poles, putting one foot in front of the other, striving for momentum. He’s jogging, then he’s sprinting. Shoes slamming the earth, the tail starts to drift away from him, faster than he can run. With a grunt, he gives one final push from his core, throwing his strength through his shoulders and into his hands. 

The weight of the machine vanishes. He trips, fists and elbows hitting dry soil. Head snapping up to watch America go, but there’s only a blur of ivory against the cerulean sky, and Canada furiously wipes his dusty glasses. Then, he sees it.

America’s machine is soaring. It drifts through the air, straight and true, hovering about three metres off of the ground. Canada watches, stunned silent, as it glides into the distance, its little motor humming, stalwart and solid, without faltering and without breaking. The craft banks gently, turning with the smooth grace of an eagle, floating above shrubs and fencing, circling the field to pass over a dirt trail to the main roadway. And it's shocking, how easily it seems to fly, when so many inventors and visionaries could only do so in their dreams. 

Eventually, the white canvas wings land a good distance away, in the centre of the pasture.

Canada scrambles to his feet, barely registering that his limbs are shaking. Heart as light as a feather, bursting with all the energy in the world, he runs to meet his brother.

America tumbles out of the plane, jumps up, and booms with a voice loud enough to cross the Atlantic. “Did you see that?!”

“You did it!” Canada cheers, barrelling towards him.

A few more steps and America sweeps Canada into a big, bone-crushing hug. “Thank you so much, buddy!” He’s bouncing and spinning around like a carnival carousel, making Canada’s head swim. “I’m sorry I made a fuss. You were right, I just needed an extra push! That’s all it was, and I was flying!”

In a minute, Canada may be sick from the spinning, but for now, his smile is hurting his cheeks. The robust pressure from America’s arms and the sunshine warmth of his giddy laughter takes him back, centuries ago, when they were children playing in the wilderness. Sneaking out without their guardians’ permission to sing and laugh with a kindred spirit. A brother. A twin.

When America finally puts him down, Canada stumbles. “Hang on, I’m dizzy,” he murmurs, spreading his arms to regain balance.

“Are you all right, there?” America chuckles.

“Yeah, just give me a second.”

“Wow, you’ve got, uh....”

“Huh?”

Reaching out, America wipes Canada’s forehead. A cloud of dust falls into Canada’s face and he squints, almost sneezing. Then, America presents his palm and fingers, coated with rusty soil.

“You’re covered in dirt!” he howls. Canada looks himself over, seeing that his soft-collar shirt and cottonade pants are hidden beneath a layer of Ohio dust. “England didn’t buy you these clothes, did he?”

“Nah, not these.”

“Okay, because I was gonna say, he’d be fuming if you did this to something he bought you.”

Canada grins. “I’d just say it was your fault.”

Snickering, America helps him dust off, patting his back and shaking most of the dirt off his clothing. When Canada is moderately clean, he suggests they get food; it’s past lunchtime. Never one to turn down a meal, America pats his stomach and heartily agrees. They store the precious, genius, and fantastic machine in the barn for safekeeping. All the while, America sings its praises, going on and on about how wonderful it felt to pilot, how he’s never felt freer in his whole life. He also brags a little, mentioning his desires to show it off to everyone they know, including ‘those geezers’ in Europe.

On their way to the farmhouse, Canada remembers the headlines he read in his newspaper, probably because America mentioned Europe, but also, because his concerns rarely leave him for long. Worriment needles at his happy thoughts like a splinter under his skin and a question builds in his lungs.

“Hey, America?” Canada asks. 

“Yeah?” 

“If I was in trouble, would you come to help?”

America stumbles, before balking. “What? What kind of trouble?”

Thinking carefully, Canada knits his brows. There may be a war, but also, there may not. All of Europe’s intricate alliances could end in a trade dispute, a blockade, or an embargo. The future is nigh impossible to predict, and sadly, no breed of immortality comes packaged with the gift of prophecy.

“Just... any kind of trouble.”

America studies Canada, eyes flicking over his face, searching. “Are you okay? Is there something bad happening right now?”

“Not right now, but in the future, maybe.” Canada shies away, feeling silly under the scrutiny. “I don’t know.”

“What are you worried about?”

Canada shrugs.

Quiet settles in, snatching America’s boisterous laughter and Canada’s happy mood, and in the contrast, Canada suddenly realises how amicable they’ve been today. Things haven’t been this nice between them in a long while, not since America left during his Revolution.

“I would,” America murmurs. Then, louder, a declaration. “Of course, I would!”

Canada jumps. His brother’s gaze is firm, his lips, curved with worry. America steps closer and surges on. “Why do you even need to ask? We share the longest border in the whole world and you’re the only person I call my brother; there’s no one else, just you. And I feel comfortable doing that because we grew up together and because I like you. I like wasting time with you. I like showing you my inventions because you’ll listen to me ramble and then you’ll take me to the hospital when I crash. You joke around with me, you make me feel relaxed, and I can open up with you, in a way that I never can when I’m with someone else. Canada, you’re my best friend! So, whenever you’re in trouble, no matter what it is, you can tell me! Tell me and I’ll help however I can.” 

America rests a hand on Canada’s shoulder, squeezing it gently, and the determination, the dedication in his voice makes Canada’s chest hurt. “Okay?” 

Eyes stinging, Canada swallows around the knot in his throat. “Okay.”

America beams, banishing the gloom and darkness with effortless ease.

They amble their way to the idyllic farmhouse and Canada allows his heart to rest. It's amazing how far they’ve come from where and who they were a hundred years ago. Somehow, from opposing sides in a war, they drifted closer. In a slow pattern of chance encounters that turned to visits, to friendly invitations, to weeks spent munching on apple pies, to early morning pancakes, and to daydreaming of flying machines.

Canada watches his brother’s broad frame leap up the porch steps two at a time, wind tousling his hair, and hopes that this harmony may endure for centuries to come.

End / Fin 

~~~

Author’s Notes

Laurier, as in Wilfred Laurier, was Canada’s Prime Minister from 1896 – 1911. He lost his re-election a couple months after our story takes place.

The Agadir Crisis was one of several events that occurred in the lead up to WW1. It resulted in stronger ties between France and the UK, and further damaged the already strained relationship between the UK and Germany.

The naval arms race was between Germany and the UK. Each side tried to build bigger and better warships at a faster rate than the other. The super-dreadnought class of ships were some of the most advanced navy vessels at the time.

Early flying machines were wild, dangerous, and unregulated. Many inventors lost their lives during flight tests. It was sort of the “wild west” of engineering.

Leonardo Da Vinci designed his own flying machines way back in the 15th and 16th centuries. He designed ornithopters, gliders, and parachutes, but the one our characters talk about is the Aerial Screw, which, along with the Chinese bamboo-copter toy, acted as a precursor to modern helicopters.

[oldschoolfrp]

USS Federation, NCC-2100, first of the Federation class dreadnoughts  (Denis Loubet, The Space Gamer 42 featuring Star Fleet Battles, August 1981)

[alphamecha-mkii]

Battleship and Explorer by Davemetlesits

[razieltwelve]

The Sword of the Ocean (Final Rose/Final Effect)

The Sword of the Ocean is the legendary flagship of the Elemental Empire. It was a combined airship/sea ship/submarine. It was believed lost when the Elemental Empire was destroyed by the Calamity Class Grimm known as Vaatu.

However, research by Vanille and Diana was able to locate it on the bottom of the ocean not far from the ruined archipelago that was all the remained of the Elemental Empire. It was buried beneath the debris of battle and centuries of detritus. Nevertheless, Diana was able to reach the vessel and ascertain its status.

It took years of hard work for the vessel to be restored to working order since the repairs could only be carried out on the ocean floor since any attempt to move it might permanently destroy its damaged and highly sensitive systems. Asami played a critical role in this repair process, using her technical skills and Semblance to hasten the process.

However, to activate the ship properly, they needed someone with emperor-level access to the ship’s systems. This access was based on Aura scans, meaning it was basically impossible to fake.

Thankfully, there is one person in the world who could meet that standard.

The ruler of the Elemental Empire was whoever possessed a particular Semblance, one that allowed them to control four elements at the same time. Despite the devastation the Elemental Empire endured, that Semblance was not lost to the world forever. In fact, it reappeared in someone that Vanille knew very well.

Korra.

And so under Korra’s command, the Sword of the Ocean rises for the first time in millennia.

It soars through the water, slicing through it as forcefields activate and repel water and anti-gravity coils hum to life. Higher it goes, high and higher, until it sits in the sky, its armour once more resplendent, its engines awaiting commands, its weapons prime and ready.

Funnily enough, the Sword of the Ocean immediately becomes the second-largest airship in the world behind only the Spear of Oerba, the flagship of the combined Yun and Dia fleets.

It is, hilariously, the only truly military vessel in the possession of the Water Tribe since they have traditionally only converted fishing boats and a naval militia to see to their defence.

The Sword of the Ocean would be destroyed in the Battle of Remnant at the hands of JENOVA, with all hands lost. Yet before being destroyed, it would buy the Spear of Oerba precious time to get into position.

In the distant future, the Sword of the Ocean is the flagship of the House of Sato. It is an Avatar Class super dreadnought that is one of the few ships in the galaxy that can challenge behemoths like the Spear of Arendelle in single combat.

At present, the commanding officer of the Sword of the Ocean is Supreme Admiral Korra Sato, the overall commander of the Federation’s Fleet.

[zponds]

Here is a collection of amazing shots of the Executor-class super star destroyers, which were built by Kuat Drive Yards for the Galactic Empire. The names of the Executor-class supers in this collection are the Executor, Lusankya, and Guardian.

The Executor was the first of the Executor-class supers to be built. After the destruction of the first Death Star at the Battle of Yavin, the Executor served as Darth Vader’s command ship. It was involved in the Battle of Hoth in 3 ABY. The Executor was part of the Defense fleet at the forest moon of Endor, where the second Death Star was being constructed. It was destroyed during the Battle of Endor when a rebel A-wing interceptor fighter kamikazed into the bridge tower, bringing down the entire Executor to crash on the surface of the second Death Star, destroying the entire super star destroyer in a massive explosion.

The Lusankya was the second Executor-class super to be constructed. Originally, it was a prison ship located under the surface cities of Coruscant. When the New Republic discovered its location, Lusankya burst through the surface cities, killing millions. Afterwards, the Lusankya was captured by the New Republic and became part of the New Republic Defense Fleet. Since then, the Lusankya served the New Republic until its destruction during the Yuuzhan Vong War in 27 ABY, when it rammed and destroyed a Yuuzhan Vong worldship at the Battle of Borlias.

The Guardian was the second Executor-class super to be captured by the New Republic and it became part of the New Republic Defense Fleet, like the Lusankya. However, unlike the Lusankya, the Guardian was not destroyed during the Yuuzhan Vong War. In other words, the Guardian continued to serve the New Republic (later renamed the Galactic Federation of Free Alliances in 28 ABY) beyond the Yuuzhan Vong War and into the second Galactic civil war in 40 ABY. It was in service until the Galactic Alliance replaced it and other massive dreadnoughts with smaller and powerful cruisers, like the MC140 Scythe-class main battlecruisers.

[stra-tek]

Thank you all for 2,100 followers!🖖😁

Trivia time. 2100 was the Naval Construction Contract number of the USS Federation, the prototype of the Dreadnought type. The design was originally by Franz Joseph Schnaubelt for the original Star Fleet Technical Manual in 1974, and here it is adapted by Allie C. Feed III in 1979.

In canon, the Federation-class USS Entente NCC-2120 is namedropped in radio chatter at the start of the theatrical version of Star Trek: The Motion Picture. And a graphic with the design is barely visible in the background of Star Trek III: The Search For Spock.