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Athlete taps into the FORCE Levitates ball & self before astonished opponents!

"A Merry New York City Christmas" by Rob Thomas & Sidewalk Angels Link

Rob Thomas "A New York City Christmas" - Video

The Sidewalk Angels foundation.com


Call on your angels
Come down to the city
Crowd around the big tree
All you strangers who know me

Bring your compassion
Your understanding
Lord, how we need it
On this New York City Christmas 

Yeah I'm sending you a merry New York Christmas
and a prayer for peace on earth within our time
Hear the sidewalk angels echo hallelujah
We understand them, now more than ever 

So call on your angels
You're beaten and broken
It's time that we mended
So they don't fade with the season

Let our mercy be the gifts we lay
From Brooklyn and to Broadway
Celebrate each and every day
of this New York City Christmas 

Yeah I'm sending you a merry New York Christmas
and a prayer for peace on earth within our time
Hear the sidewalk angels echo hallelujah
We understand them, now more than ever
Merry New York Christmas 

Call on your angels
Come down to the city
Let's Crowd around the big tree
All you strangers you know me
Bring your compassion
Bring your forgiveness
Lord how we need it
On this New York City Christmas 

Yeah, I'm sending you a Merry New York Christmas
And a prayer for peace on Earth
It's not too late
Yeah the sidewalk angels echo hallelujah
We understand them
Merry Christmas
Yes, a New York City Christmas

“The Emerson”

          

The U.S.S. Integrity fairly limped back to Deep Space 9 in need of extensive repairs. The Dominion war had taken its toll on both the ship and her crew. The final push into the Cardassian system had all but ended her but the Cardassians had switched sides at the last moment and then, the Dominion had surrendered. 

            Captain Logan sat in his ready room and tried to get used to the idea that the war was finally over. It had taken so much from all of them, but now finally it was over. Many of his crew had died in the war and other officers had been given field promotions to keep the ship functioning. Ordinarily if a ship suffered such losses, officers would be replaced when the ship next made port but, Logan knew all too well, that all of Starfleet had taken such losses that he would be lucky to even get a full compliment.
            It was during this time, while Logan looked grimly over the logs and damage reports, that a high priority coded message came in from Admiral Ross.
Logan entered his clearance code and tried not to show the tension that he felt at getting such a message while his ship was in such a state.
            “Good Morning Captain,” Ross said evenly.
            “Admiral,” Logan replied, “what can I do for you, Sir?” 
            “I’ve got a covert mission and I need a top pilot to pull it off,” Ross Said.
            “I see,” Logan said. He knew better than to ask for details that Starfleet Command were not inclined to provide but he still needed to know as much as he could if he was going to be sending one of his people into harms way. “What can you tell me, Sir?”
            “We need a lone officer to take a runabout into the badlands. The mission itself will be fairly straight forward but we need them to leave right away and they need to get where they’re going quickly,” Ross continued “Have the officer reach back to me once they’re on the way and I’ll brief them then.”
            “I understand,” Logan said, checking his data pad and looking over his available officers and still functioning shuttlecraft and runabouts “I can send Commander Tia in the Emerson. She will be underway within a few minutes.”
            Ross seemed to think that this was acceptable, “Very Good, Captain” he replied. “Ross Out.”
            Logan summoned Tia to his ready room and told her what he knew.
            “You’re my top pilot, just get whatever it is done and get back as soon as you can,” Logan told her.
            “What about you?” She asked baiting him slightly. They had often sparred over who had the better flight skills.
            Logan would not let her off that easily. “If the Admiral had wanted me to go he would have simply ordered me to do it,” he said smiling. Tia smirked at that and Logan relented a little. “Besides you’ve logged more impulse flight hours in the past few months than I have in the past year. I’m sure you’re up to it,” he told her.
            “Aye, Sir,” She replied smiling openly now.
            “On your way commander,” Logan told her and off she went...

            Hours later after docking at one of the upper pylons at Deep Space 9 Logan was sleeping fitfully after going through the repair list when another emergency, coded message came in. Logan snapped awake.
            “Logan here,” he said. The connection was audio only and full of static.
            “Captain,” he heard Tia’s voice, “I’m not sure what happened, Sir, I’m stranded in the badlands. I think an energy discharge hit the Emerson. The engines, life support, and the airlock have all been damaged. I can’t even get the hatch open from the inside.”
            “We can send a rescue team out,” Logan began.
            “No sir,” Tia replied sternly. “My mission must remain covert and now I . . . I’m really pressed for time, Sir.”
            “I read you Commander.” Logan took a moment to weight his options. “I’m on my way,” he said finally.
            “Thank you, Sir,” he could hear the relief in her voice and the channel closed.
           
                                                            ***************             
           
            As Logan closed on the Emerson, he saw right away the damage to the front port nacelle. An energy stream from one of the intense ion storms had ripped through the Emerson’s shields and raked the entire port side of the craft. Tia had managed, using her thrusters, to get the craft into a relatively calm area between the endless storm fronts and slipstreams that raged through out this area of the badlands. Logan got into his EVA suit and exited the Thoreau. He could clearly see Commander Tia also wearing her EVA suit inside the Emerson.
            He examined damaged nacelle and hailed her, “We’ll need to replace this forward warp coil,” he said without preamble.
Shuttles and runabouts carried accessible spare units but usually these kinds of procedures engineers performed in the shuttle bay. There was a procedure for doing it as an EVA but doing it here, in the middle of the badlands, was something no engineer had probably ever conceived.
            Logan worked carefully and quickly to remove the clamps that held the forward most warp coil in place. Once he had done the unit would slide free and he would mount the replacement and secure it. That is what the procedure said anyway. However, the blast that had destroyed the unit had also fused the unit in place. Logan worked at the unit, trying to find some leverage and pry it free but there was no hope and the clock was running.

            Logan thought the problem through and then hailed her again. “I’m going to force the hatch. I’m coming in.”
            “I’m ready,” Tia replied.
As Logan forced the hatch opened, the compartment inside the Emerson vented completely and Logan slid easily into the craft.
            “Looks like you cut it a little too close that time Commander,” he said.
            “You’re not funny,” she replied tersely.
            “Alright,” he went on more seriously, “You will take the Thoreau and go complete your mission. Once you’re away I will send out a general distress hail and get myself out of here.”
            Tia knew what he was offering but once she was away, Logan might well be stranded out here for some time if help was not readily available and the shuttle drifted back into the storms or the storms suddenly intensified.
            Logan saw the concern on her face but cut her off, “That’s an order Commander,” he said. “Take the Thoreau and go.”
            This time it was Tia’s tern to weigh her options. She nodded finally and said “Aye, Sir.” She went out the open hatch and made her way to the Thoreau. A few minutes passed after she was away and she hailed back that she had made contact with whomever she was meeting and that she should still be able to complete her mission. Logan wished her luck and then turned back to his own problems. He checked the air supply and power levels on his suit, it read four hours remaining, and he set his suits internal alarm countdown.
He sent out a general distress message, sat back, and waited. It wasn’t long before he got an answer but it was from an unlikely source. A Ferengi ship was in the area and offered to tow him out of the badlands. The Ferengi Captain told him he could get him out of the area but that was all as he had a perishable cargo and needed to keep to his schedule. Logan gratefully accepted but . . .
            “I, ah, I don’t have any gold pressed latinum with me,” he explained feeling somewhat awkward.
            The Ferengi Captain seemed mildly amused at this.
            “That’s not a problem,” he said, “Grand Nagus Rom has made it clear in his new edicts that rescue missions like this are to be strictly non-profit.”
            Logan had heard about some of the recent changes that had been happening throughout the Ferengi alliance but was still surprised.
            “Well, that will be grand,” he said.

            The Ferengi ship slid in place in front of the disabled Starfleet craft and towed the Emerson to a nearby cluster just outside the badlands. They were on their way again in less than an hour. Logan turned down the power setting on his suit, which made it colder for him but would give him a little more power in the long run and sent out another general distress signal. Then he settled in to wait for a response. This time the response was somewhat longer in coming but eventually a Benzite Freighter answered and offered to take him back to Farmingdale Station. That was risky but it was better than staying where he was, he checked his chronometer, 2 hours left, he took them up on the offer. Logan also hailed the Benzite craft and asked if they had any spare air but they only carried their own variety, which would be toxic to Logan.
            Logan tried to relax as much as could. In due course Logan found himself at Farmingdale Station but as he half expected the station was unmanned and running in automated mode. The Benzites efficiently docked the Emerson in an empty repair bay and departed. The shuttle was now safe but looking at his chronometer, Logan saw that he only had about twenty minutes of air and power left.
            He needed to get from the repair station to the empty habitat section of the small Starbase itself. The problem was that it was a long way from one to the other - if he went through the station itself. His only option was to risk a final EVA from one side of the station to the other. It would be risky in his nearly spent EVA suit but there was nothing for it. He would jump from the ledge of the open to space repair bay, run along the side of the station until he got to the habitat ring where he could let himself in through the airlock and then finally take off his helmet. After that, he could send one last call for help but he would finally have air, replicators, and time on his side.

            Logan estimated his trajectory, checked his chronometer one last time, and leapt. He drifted along the station for a short distance and then activated his mag-boots. He misjudged his distance to the surface and struck the side of the station slightly harder that he had intended but he was still on track. He began a light jog towards the habitat ring. After a few minutes the warning tone of his suit began letting him know he was running out of power and air. The cold was really beginning to seep in now and he pushed himself into a full run trying to shorten the time this trip would take and keep himself warm. The problem, of course was that it meant using up the last of his air. He tried to manage his breathing in spite of his exertion but he wasn’t sure it was helping. Finally, he reached the habitat’s air lock. He had the strange thought that if this airlock were not functioning for any reason someone would probably find his body out there next time anyone came back to the station. Fortunately, the air lock worked perfectly and within a few minutes, he was inside the station with his helmet off.

            After getting out of EVA suit Logan visited the replicators and order up a nice warm meal. Then he used the stations communications system to send out his final call for assistance. The person he heard back from came as a pleasant surprise. It was Captain Germann of the Legacy. Logan had thought the Legacy was in a distant sector but it turned out that Starfleet Command had reassigned them to a nearby system towards the end of the war. Captain Germann was only to happy give Captain Logan transportation all the way back to the Integrity at Deep Space 9.

                                                **************************

            Commander Tia arrived back aboard only a couple of hours after Captain Logan. She found him on the bridge. It was almost disserted with only a pair of technicians making repairs to the Helm station and the Captain supervising efforts in Engineering and throughout the secondary hull from the Mission Ops station.

            “I see you made it back in one piece,” she said.
            “Well, you didn’t think I’d let you beat me back here did you,” Logan joked. “Welcome back, was your mission successful?”
            “I made it on time, thanks to you as for the rest, well, we’ll see.”
            “I understand,” Logan said.
            “I’m sorry about everything,” Tia said suddenly more serious.
            Logan smiled at that, “You’ll be happy to hear that I heard from the repair center and they’ll have the Emerson back to us in about two weeks, but” Logan turned to face her full on “after all we’ve lost recently, even if it was a total loss, as long as you’re alright, we always get another runabout.”

The Battle

I had travelled far to meet my old friend before we set out to the bloodthirsty task we both knew lay ahead of us. I arrived in good time for the feast that all old warriors of our cut and vintage partake in as a matter of ritual. However, once we stood together, my old comrade told me this would not be any mundane or hurried affair. He had, and out of his own pocket, laid down a plan for us to share as magnificent a repast as any we had ever enjoyed. Indeed, as the servers brought out the food, I knew he had spoken true. The meat and wine were red and the portions plentiful and all of it as well prepared as any delicacies either of us had ever tasted. During dinner we talked little of the coming conflict but, as old friends are want to do after long separations, we spoke largely of our lives since last we were last together and of mutual friends one or the other of us had not seen in what seemed an age. We toasted the present company and the coming clash and ate until neither of us could eat another morsel.

After that, we set off on foot to the battlefield itself for well we knew better than to ride out and risk being unable to ride back. It was night now and the air was cool but he told me milder than usual for the time of year in that region. The walk was long and gave us more time to reminisce but not so long as to be tiring. Which was good, for soon, we both knew we would need all of our strength. As we walked, my old cohort of many such crusades expressed his concerns about our advancing years and mixing it up with the young hellions were we certain to meet in battle that very night. I jovially eased his mind telling him I intended to slay the first of them quickly, that he should plan to do the same, and after that, I declared; “The devil may take the hindmost!”
He laughed at this and we arrived on the battlefield in high spirits and thirsty for warfare.

We met the enemy and, by virtue of our vast experience, sized them up quickly. Among them, I noticed at least one Titan and being an old hand of many wars I set my sites on him firmly and, as I had promised not a quarter hour before, ended him quickly and while I was still fresh. My friend ran ahead laying into one of their common soldiers who had the misfortune to cross his path. As soon as this first blow struck, he smiled back at me and yelled that all his reservations had died by that mighty blow. He took his time and slew his adversary. I had moved on to another target I spotted on the field. For there I spied a foppish character they called “the Brune”. I know not why they called him thus but he was as flamboyant and as brilliant a swordsman as any opponent I had ever faced. I saluted my adversary, which he returned, and we began circling each other warily. Soon our swords were fairly singing and members both companies near us stopped their own battle to watch the dance. After a fair time I put the man down and the mêlée resumed in earnest. My old friend had marked another Titan in our enemies’ ranks, following my example; he set upon him like a berserker of old, and dispatched him straight. That left the more common, rounder members of their company and although they were well clad for fighting and they knew it not, their cause was already long lost. We worked our way through them, each of us following the lead of the other, first him, then me and so on, with the steady efficiency of veterans from a thousand such campaigns.

Later we walked away from the battlefield and made our way back to the safely and warmth of his home. Quite in our cups, we traded stories admiringly of the fight and quarreled good-naturedly about the exact numbers.
“It was at least a dozen,” I declared.
“Not so,” he answered laughing, “it was no such matter, but then again” he relented, “it was close enough I would say.”
We reached his home and I remember sharing a toast to victory with Old Fezziwig who had been waiting there for us. In truth though, by this time, the battle had taken its toll and I had spent my aging vitality. I fell asleep where I sat and shortly had lain down on the floor before my chair. My old companion mocked my fatigue but then had the lack of good sense to drink one last toast with a treacherous Irishman. The next day I was back on my feet long before my old comrade in arms, but I kept the watch until he found his feet again later that evening.

Catching up

I am spending this weekend catching up on the more mundane, but necessary, chores that need to be done to keep us moving at the pace we've been setting. The last few weeks and months have been hectic. Between shooting on "Polaris" in Maryland, The Phase II episode "Origins" in Ticonderoga NY, "Sci-Fi Science" in Manhattan, going to our son's wedding in Buffalo and all our regularly scheduled madness Gina and I both need to regroup and put things in order around here.On the plus side, all of that stuff has been going really well. Gina's acting career seems to  be on track and moving into the next level. My episodes on Sci - Fi Science start airing September 1. Although I shot for all the episodes this coming season don't expect to see me in every one, but you should be able to catch me in a few at least.
Speaking of that the final two episodes will be shot August 6th. If anyone wants to dress up and join my away team let me know. This is the last chance for this season and if you can make it you will get to meet the venerable Dr. Kaku. They shoot at about 2:00PM at Capsule Studios in NYC.
I'm making real progress on my personal "Ripped in 2010" initiative to get in even better shape. Between careful dieting, the trips to the gym and swimming three times a day I'm making some real progress. I've been too busy to get in enough running and sword work but even so I'm stretching and keeping limber while steadily increasing definition so it's all good.
Here are some pictures from or recent adventures.