Foreword

The Icelandic Troll was a brief, yet big, part of my youth.

I’d belonged to a Star Trek fan club called Starfleet, where each local chapter was a starship. I’d belonged to the USS Jamestown chapter in Hampton Roads, Virginia, and with some other members had formed the USS Powhatan in nearby Chesapeake. We had a great time, doing charity events, fundraisers, and playing (heavily modified) Lazer Tag in the woods at night. We went camping, went on group movie trips, and more. I was the youngest person in the group at the time (earning plenty of Wesley Crusher teases), and the entire group was basically my big brothers sisters. It was probably the first time I’d really been accepted fully into a social group, and it felt great.

Times change, and in a Navy town they change quick. People came and went, and before long Powhatan wasn’t doing the stuff I’d enjoyed. I missed the friends that had left. I still loved Star Trek, but it wasn’t the same social group. Starfleet in general had started to get very political, with people nationally arguing about how to run the organization, who could do what, which “generation” you had to pick ship names from, and all kinds of nonsense. It stopped being as much fun.

Some of my best friends felt the same way, and one of them, Buzz Ryan, formed his own little group. Completely unofficial, the Icelandic Troll wasn’t some grand starship. It was a garbage scow. A salvage ship, with a part-time interest in search and rescue, since that was a personal interest of Buzz’. We were joined by Shandra Smith (now Stevenson), who was a high school friend of mine, and her husband. Our sole reason for existing was simply to get together and have fun, and sometimes make fun of the uptight Starfleet groups in the area. Buzz and I may, or may not, have similar burn scars which are now barely recognizable as the letters “I” and “T.” The little crew of the Troll got each other through some difficult times.

Buzz is a fair hand at drawing, and started providing illustrations for the snarky, mostly-poking-fun-at-the-Powhatan’s-new-Captain short stories I wrote. We had a great time, and the crew of the Troll was there for me through some tough times as I navigated my apprenticeship, an (abandoned) Air Force enlistment, and a lot more. Buzz, then a Navy parachute specialist, was eventually transferred, which was a real blow to me. I moved away for work not long after, and we fell out of touch.

We reconnected via Facebook a few years ago, and have been in closer touch since then, and it’s been a real thrill. Not just for the nostalgia of “remember when?” but because Buzz is a truly cool guy. We’d both been better about keeping in touch with Shandra since then, and I got to see her kids–still toddlers when Troll was a thing–grow up and move on to their own lives. Buzz and Shandra went through a divorce. Shandra remarried, I got married (after twenty years with the same person, it seemed like time), and Buzz recently got engaged. It got me thinking about the Troll, and how much silly, carefree fun we’d had. About how we’d make up snarky, ridiculous stories on the spur of the moment. Buzz’ work with the Starship Farragut team, and his “episode guide” for a USS Geronimo NCC-535 show, lent a sometimes-more-serious air to the Troll background in my mind.

And so this was born, a likely perpetual work-in-progress I can treat as a hobby. I’m borrowing heavily from the “characters” we dreamed up for ourselves, as well as what I took from Buzz’ lovingly flip attitude about the whole thing. I hope you enjoy these stories, but if you don’t, frankly, it’s likely because they were only ever meant for the three of us.