Story time.

Okay, coming up: I’m going to start archiving some of my fan-fic stories and collaborations here.  Eventually, it will hold most, if not all of them from STO.


~“Four Funerals and a Wedding; a tale of the Empire.”

By Greg Hodgson, Daniel Ball and Brian Kinnison


The Players

The Wedding Party

The Eager Groom; S’fwyrnamokaarn, Chosen Son of Ssharki, of the House of Woldan

The Joyous Bride; Naja, Daughter of None, Heir to the House of Methos

The Bitter Maid of Honour; D’Moj, the Ohn’gallau(an Orion)

The Best Man; K’Tirr-Rriorr (a Ferasan Nobleman)

Groomsmen; Valk, Shralak, Prex

The Madwoman; Uminoe Kicur (A Trill)

Three Witches;Dr. Mary Moriarty, Nova of House K’Tirr(A noblewoman of Ferasa), Dr. Sstellkaass (?) (a Gorn and a pacifist)

The Stand-in Mother of the Bride; tbd

The Stand-in Father of the Bride; tbd

The Father of the Groom; Ssharki of House Woldan

The Troublesome Brother; M’Calvyrrn

The Entertainer;the Entertainer

Guests: Woldan, Koldor, Ssthalss, K’rom, Temek, Vishka, Thakaathin, Breq, son of Greg Sander

The Rivals:

The grasping greedy one; K’Lek

The Corrupt womanizer; Kriton

The Honourable Fool; Korath

The Brutal Coward; Terrath

The Bloodied Fighter; Ja’rod, of House Duras

The Grasping Crone;

The Fanatical Priestess;

The Acrobats;

The Henchmen

The High Command ;tbd-several ranking officers in the KDF.


Ch’targh, son of B’Shon, of the House of Duras




Now tonight our Celebrations begin,

(DaH ramvam tagh lopno’),

a story of love, and joy, and bloodshed within.

(lut tlhaQ muSHa’ghach, yImaq, ‘ej regh’Iw qaS..)

For love and blood the foundation of the fire;

(muSHa’ghach je ‘Iw QutlhwI’ ‘oH qul;)

the secret that holds our great Empire.

(pegh ‘e’ wo’ Dun ‘uch.)

Love and blood shall both be shed…

(vaj batlhchaj shed muSHa’ghach ‘Iw je.)

before our bride and husband are wed.

(ngejtaH qaSDI’, DamuSHa’chugh be’ ‘IH ‘ej loDnal)

We begin!

(tagh maH!)


Ty’gokor Shipyard…


“…you’re joking, right?”  Colonel D’moj asked, “You want me to…” she snorted, “one of those?”

General Ssharki poured a glass of something amber and strong.  “How long have we worked together, Colonel?” he asked.

“A few years.” she answered, accepting his drink.

“And… how many times have I personally recommended your promotions?” Ssharki asked.

She swirled the glass, “From about the time I was a Major, sir.”

“And how many of your surviving classmates are currently commanding battle-groups, while you keep running that little reconnaissance wing in my squadron?” Ssharki asked.

“Most of them.” she allowed.

“And how many times has the High Command refused to approve my recommendation for your promotion?” Ssharki continued.

“Eight?” D’Moj said uncertainly.

“Fifteen.” Ssharki told her, “Fifteen times, you’ve been recommended for a Brigadier’s slot. Fifteen times, it’s been killed at either High Command level, or on the floor of the High Council during approval… do you know what the major objection is?”

She shrugged, “I’m not a Klingon by birth?” she asked.

“No.” he sat down across from her. “That barrier is long-past-gone.”

The huge Gorn leaned forward, “You’ve never commanded a Battlecruiser.” he stated, then extended a claw to poke her in the chest, “Martok could get away with it – he was a Klingon and a Legend… you can’t. You’ve got a great career, but every time, as in every single time you’ve come up for a Cruiser, you’ve balked, or circumstances interfered. You’re not balking again.”  He leaned back, “I argued to get you recommended for the IKS wamwyl’, she’s the second QIb prototype, and if she passes evaluation, she’ll be the first of the next generation of cruisers assigned to the Nineteenth Heavy Recon… and possibly a replacement for some of our older Hegh’ta hulls as well.”

“You need a cruiser commander for that.” D’Moj argued, “Uminoe, maybe-”

“NO.” Ssharki said, “Not her… you.” the Gorn General stabbed a claw into her chest.

“For how long?” she asked.

“Until I don’t need a Bird of Prey tactical expert commanding the heaviest reconnaissance platform we’ve ever built.” he told her,  “Your job, is to find every possible way to make it work.” Ssharki looked down at their glasses, “Drink up, you’ll be overseeing some of the construction during your stand-down, think about crew…and review files, your ship-date is in ninety days…in the meantime, you’re on shore duty.”

“Is that really necessary?” D’Moj asked.

Ssharki paused. “Yes,” he told her. “Your old ship limped in with more than half the systems fried beyond the ability to recover, your crew… need a break, and your medical files show you need a vacation, according to your record, it has been eight months since you have spent more than seventy two hours on the ground.”

“I’m fit eno-”

No you’re NOT,” Ssharki hissed. “One of the small benefits of being a General, is that I get to see the raw files on my officers – the data Doctor Moriarty doesn’t include in her logs to High Command – you need off the Suppressants and you need off them now, and three months really isn’t enough time to cleanse your system, but it’s all the time I can spare with you on the beach until you are healthy.”  He straightened. “It’s this, or I start the paperwork to dismiss you from active duty.  Choose now.”

“Fine… I’ll test-fly your Cruiser.” she said quietly.

“I knew you would see reason,” Ssharki told her. “In the meantime, Kogh will be taking the Val’gyr, he’s getting a promotion too…”

“Who’s taking the Recon group while I’m down?” she asked.

“Sker and Sway will split what’s left of the scout-raider wing,” Ssharki answered.  “We only have four active birds left, including the Val’gyr, plus the Notqa’ but that’s… an auxiliary.”

“Will we be drawing replacements?” She asked. “If you’re dividing the scout wing, between two commanders, it will need to be expanded – Sker’s good, and your son is promising… but half a command of four can be more trouble than it solves problems.”

“Naturally we will be using this time to fill out the ranks.  I am still vetting my candidates.  Integrating them into the squadron will be your job, after you’ve had your vacation.”

D’moj finally took a sip of the whiskey. “Here’s to vacations,” she said, and looked at her wrist-chronometer. “If that’s all, General, I’ve got an appointment to meet with Lady Naja to go over… details not related to military matters.”

“This does not count as vacation time, by the way,” Ssharki informed her.  “Navigating the political maneuvers behind this wedding is at least as stressful as combat.”

“She wants me to wear a Dress.” D’Moj told him, and wiped out the rest of her drink, “I would suggest combat is somewhat [i]less[/i] stressful – the enemy at least doesn’t require make-up, hair-styling, or metras of leather and silk… and I have yet to see a combat mission that required me to find a date.”

“Kogh is unattached, isn’t he?” Ssharki hid behind his drink.

D’Moj muttered something and gave Ssharki a somewhat evil look. “That’s a match you do not want, General,” she told him. “Kogh needs a proper Klingon woman to settle his ass down.”

“The lady doth protest too much, methinks,” Ssharki showed her a grin.  “I’m not suggesting you marry him.  Just… a date.”

She sighed, “It’s not what you were suggesting, so much as how he would take it, General,” she said. “He’s been pursuing me for years – and I’m just not interested. It’s sweet, but he needs a woman who’s got less… baggage, unfortunately, he is Klingon all the way down to his core, and too good an officer to kill out of hand… and if I had not finished drinking this excellent fire-water of yours, I’d have thrown it in your face for that comment.”

“Scotch whisky,” Ssharki told her, ignoring her threat.  “There are other options.  I am hoping Admiral LaRoca will be able to attend, and he’ll also be looking for a date…”

“It’s good scotch.” She said neutrally, “and while it would be rather hilarious to hear the gossip from that…pairing…I somehow doubt it would be good politics-no matter how attractive your friend LaRoca may be as a dancing partner.” her eyes gleamed with humour, “we have some weeks, General.  I’ll be fascinated to see who brings you to the reception-there’s actually a betting pool that thinks you’ll be taking that big Security officer from the Ambassador’s staff-the Gorn fem with the blue highlights.”

“Speculate away,” Ssharki replied, with a flash of amusement in his eyes.  He turned away slightly, his posture indicating the conversation was at its end.  “Remember, wedding plans, then vacation, then report to the WamwyI’.  And, by the way, Jesu is a full member of the House of Martok, and he swears better than you do.  Something to keep in mind.”

To Be Continued.