Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative Path: newserv.ksu.ksu.edu!moe.ksu.ksu.edu!vixen.cso.uiuc.edu!howland.reston.ans.net!pipex!uknet!festival!castle.ed.ac.uk!ewans From: ewans@castle.ed.ac.uk (Ewan Spence) Subject: Star Trek - The New Frontier - Xmas Special Message-ID: Sender: news@festival.ed.ac.uk (remote news read deamon) Organization: Edinburgh University Date: Thu, 16 Dec 1993 12:04:09 GMT Keywords: Repost 1-4, New Chapter 5 Lines: 653 A Christams wish from the author... ======================================================================== Firstly, I'm really glad that I managed to get to this point. 7 weeks ago, when the idea for The New Frontier catalysed in my mind, I had no idea where it would lead. Now, I have made a lot of people very happy with this story. Regarding A Bridge To Far (Which of course, is the name of this pilot episode), here we go with the traditional seasonal cliffhanger. The net has to have at least one. Chapter 5 appears at the end of this posting. But due to a multitude of people requesting back chapters, I'm posting chapters 1 through 4, and the new chapter (5), so get a printout, take it home over the holidays, and try to work out how the hell Strachan and co. get out of this one. The throwaway line seems to be becoming a tradition. In case you don't know what it is, out of all the ideas that peolpe send to me, three things usually happen. Most of them get filed for future reference, some will have whole plot lines built round them, but a few get their idea adapted and turned into the prize of The Throwaway Line. This is basically a line in the new Chapter that adds a bit of ambience, or explains a little point. I never actually reveal which line it is, but just who wins the prize. Today, it belongs to... Steve Carabello. I changed your wish slightly, Steve, but the idea is still there. If you want to win the Throwaway line next time, mail me some ideas. As always, a plea for people to E-mail me. It's all this E-mail that keeps me going in the dark nights as I work towards the conclusion in my mind. Most people wanted to give TNF a good start before really talking about it (Lori!), so I think that this is a good point to say, E-MAIL ANY AND ALL OPINIONS TO ME. I WANT TO HEAR FROM _YOU!_ I would especially like people to suggest ways in which the Enigma can escape. If anyone hits on the same idea that I'm going to use I'll utilise conventional mail and send them a prize! Anybody who wants to write another episode of TNF should mail me with their ideas, so I can process them and maybe send out writers guides to them (Yes, I do have one written for TNF). Finally, (Cliche warning) all you have a Merry Christmas, and don't drink too much... Ewan (The Author) P.S. Joe Young, in regards to the archive, please replace parts 1-4 with this version. It superseeds them. Thanks. Here we go with the repost... ========================================================================== Author's Note. ========================================================================= After starting to get slightly sick of everyone lambasting Star Trek - Voyager on the net before it is even broadcast (or even just cast!); I have decided to write what I would like to see. I have taken Paramount's in-house pre-production name just to confuse you, and created an all-new crew, with the exception of the Conn Officer. Yes, this is the same Robin Leflar that appeared in The Next Generation. The initial premise, the lost in the far-flung corners of the Galaxy plot, seems to be the best bet for Voyager, so I used that as well. This is my first bash at writing for pleasure so constructive criticism is welcomed (go easy, mind you); but no flames please (i.e. I hate the complete idea of this, etc.). Ewan Spence, November 1993. E-Mail on exs@dcs.ed.ac.uk or ewans@castle.ed.ac.uk Based on Star Trek, created by Gene Roddenberry. All new material here is copyright Ewan Spence. Ewan Spence asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work. You are free to distribute this, as long as it is kept together, remains unedited, and you charge no more than nominal copying costs. ========================================================================== Chapter 1. ========================================================================== Captain's Personal Log; Stardate 48012.7. The impossible is finally happening. I am on my way, in the traditional shuttle craft, to take command of the USS Enigma. I've waited a long time for this, lets hope that this cruise is nothing like the first I had on the Geronimo. I don't think that anything else could have went wrong during those first weeks. I also am looking forward to seeing Nicole T'zer again. Starfleet decided that she was to be my Number One. I didn't get a choice this time, either. Thanks to this wonderful piece of bureaucracy, we will have to make sure that we are... careful. Captain Tyler Strachan looked out across the sky, straining to catch a glimpse of what he knew would take up the next 12 months of his life. The shuttle-craft carried on in it's orbit around the Earth, and still Strachan kept looking. This tradition of having the Captain first arrive at his command by a shuttle had been around since the refit of the original Enterprise. (Nobody remembered that the only reason for that occurrence was due to the transporters being out of operation). It may have been tradition, but it still set every Captain's nerves on the edge. There she was. Strachan took in the sight of his first command in over 5 years with a belated sigh of relief. He had not thought it possible that he would actually command another Starship after the massacre that had been The Borg. Old wounds healed slowly, and the pain of the battle had never quite left him. Damn, he thought, I'm getting to old for this Starfleet lark. Maybe I should have quit after Wolf 359... * * * * * * * * "...and escort us to sector 001, where we begin the assimilation of your race." Strachan took in the situation immediately. His helm officer, Nicole T'zer responded with characteristic speed, "What the hell have they done to him, Captain?" "I haven't got a clue T'zer. But there is no way that the Borg are getting past 359." "Aye, Sir. Shields are up, phasers charged, all torpedo bays loaded. All decks on Red Alert. Were ready" The klaxons rebounded around the ship. The USS Geronimo was in full battle readiness in under 10 seconds, but no drill could compare with what they were up against. Heeling over to join the first Vic formation against the bloated cube, the Geronimo engaged the Borg. The ship rocked violently to port. The response from T'zer was instantaneous, "The Borg have locked on with their tractor beam!" "Shields being drained," this from the tactical station, "90 per cent... 80 per cent..." "Bridge to Engineering, Bill, auxiliary power to the shields." Strachan was watching his ship being stripped of all it's defences, one by one. "Shields have failed!" "Fire all torpedoes." The command was never executed. The Borg sliced away the Secondary Hull of the Geronimo. "Hull breach! We just lost... God Almighty, the complete sec-" The Borg ship fired again. Geronimo lost half of the remaining Primary Hull. On the bridge, Strachan ordered the last option left open to him. "All hands, abandon ship; repeat, all hands, abandon ship. Clear the bridge. Get to those lifeboats, people." The bridge crew made a hurried exit for the turbo-lift. Strachan stopped his two senior officers, Robbins and T'zer. "Lets leave a surprise for the Borg." The revenge present in both their eyes was all he needed as he turned to the Sciences Station. "Computer, recognise Captain Tyler Strachan." "Recognised" "Set self destruct." "Does the First Officer Concur?" Robbins never got the chance. The Borg delivered it's third and final blow to the Geronimo. The saucer section exploded. Time passed. The Borg made for Sol, the irritation now removed. Drifting, the remains of the Geronimo were a pitiful sight. The top three decks had been the only section to remain habitable. The hulk contained two survivors, Captain Tyler Strachan, and Lieutenant Nicole T'zer. "How are you feeling, Nicole?" The young Lieutenant looked up. Emergency lighting was draping a thin, red, glow around the remains of the bridge. She could make out her Captain looking over her. "Pretty good, Captain. Yourself?" "Shaky at best. I can't feel my legs." "And Mr Robbins?" Tyler's head perceptibly dropped, "It's just you and me." "How bad is the ship?" "What ship? The Borg have taken out most of it. All we have is the backup bridge Life Support, and limited Battery Power. Lets hope Starfleet send out someone to get us out of here, quick." "Lets hope Starfleet survive." The question hung in the air. Tyler and Nicole were going to be together for a long time... * * * * * * * * The memories came flooding back to Tyler. It had take Starfleet over 2 weeks to realise that there were people still alive aboard the remains of the Geronimo. The damage to his legs had take over a year in a Starfleet Medical Hospital; after that, the 'fleet had already allocated the surviving senior officers to ships. Tyler had spent the next three years of his life as an Academy instructor. He had always intended to return to the big chair. The months of watching the young, eager cadets leave his course to join new Starships had been excruciating. Only two cadets had ever stood out of the crowd at him. One was the infamous Wesley Crusher, provider of many a good story told round the Instructor's Table; and the other had been Peter Dalrymple. Pete had been in the first class he graduated, and Strachan had followed his career with half an eye. He was pleasantly surprised when Dalrymple had been posted to the Enigma as his Second Officer. It had taken him 3 years to convince Starfleet to give him back his command. Only he could be happy with a 30 year old, Miranda Class Light Cruiser, that should have been mothballed years ago. A Ship is a ship, his father had always maintained. But not this one, he thought. I'm going to make it big on this one. I have to... ============================================================================ Chapter 2. ============================================================================ The shuttle bay repressurised. Captain Strachan walked out. A Well- built officer brought a Guard of Honour to attention. Strachan turned to him, "Permission to come aboard, Lieutenant." "Permission granted, Captain." Strachan took in the officer standing before him, attempting to match the face to the file he had on his senior officers. "Bowland, isn't it?" "Yes Sir." "Chief of Security?" "Yes Sir." "Okay. Dismiss your men." "Yes Sir." Bowland turned back to his troops to give the necessary orders. Strachan took in the Lieutenant while he was doing this. Tony Bowland was quite tall, 6' 3, and had the aura of a Security Officer around him. Strachan couldn't quite make out the accent. Tied to the well-tanned body, Bowland could have came from anywhere along the Mediterranean. The guard of honour marched out, leaving Bowland alone with his new Captain. Strachan broke the ice, "Any chance of a tour of the ship before anyone knows I'm here, Mr Bowland?" "Certainly Sir. I'll call down one of my staff to-" "I'd rather that you take me round, Lieutenant. I presume that you know this ship like the back of your hand, being Security Chief, correct?" "Yes, Sir. Anywhere you would like to start?" "Engineering." Escorting the new Captain down to Deck 6, Tony Bowland was wondering how to break the news that the burly Chief of Security was also running the ship's botanical gardens. Give it time, he thought to himself. "First time on a Miranda Class for you, Sir?" "Yes, it's well known class, but I always used to get landed with the bigger ships. Yourself?" Bowland took a heartbeat to respond, "First time on one that came from this early a run," he paused. Should he carry on with the next question? "Why did you choose this ship, Sir? After all, with the amount of time in the service; you could have chosen any command, what with the problems along the Neutral Zone." "Mr Bowland, I had no choice in the ship I was given. After the Academy, I would have been happy in a scout ship." "You probably would have been safer in one of those. The Enigma should have been decommissioned years ago. She's past her life-span, her sell-by date, everything." "You don't agree with Starfleet on the need to patrol the Neutral Zone?" "I agree we should do it, Sir. But if you are going to defend, defend with a deterrent, not a dustbin." "Your opinion is noted, but I hope that this will not affect your performance of your duty. Understood, Lieutenant?" "Understood Sir. Engineering is just round this corner." Bowland shivered. the atmosphere had turned decidedly chilly. Strachan and Bowland turned the corner to witness what appeared to be complete chaos in Engineering. Dominated by the Matter/Anti-Matter Reaction Assembly, the Section was overflowing with commands being bawled out and Officers frantically working at stations. Suddenly, the harsh light of a containment field snapped on round the M/ARA. "Oh Shit! Abort the start-up routine." Commander Hazel Wittock, Chief Engineer of the Enigma was, apparently, not in a good mood. "Abort the anti-matter injection! Select full neutral cut-out! Reeve, give me an anti-matter cross-section reading!" "8.29cm, no residual anti-matter registering." "Right, were okay," she was slightly calmer now, "Computer, drop the containment field. Authorisation Wittock-three-eight-foxtrot." "Confirmed. Containment field is now in stand-by." The klaxons stopped. Strachan took his chance, "Nice work, Commander." Wittock turned, eyes suddenly alight with fury, but discipline taking over on seeing who it was. "Than you, Sir. But none of this would be necessary if we could have access to Space-Dock facilities." "You know that the terrorist bomb ripped out all the ship support pylons. We have to do it the hard way, and-" "We should be doing it in a space worthy ship. I'm sure Mr Bowland here made you aware of the... condition of this ship; if you didn't already know." "I know the state of the ship, Commander Wittock. I take it you are aware of the number of Starships that were critically damaged in the same explosion," Strachan's tone had turned cold. "Yes, Sir." "Were only going to be patrolling the Neutral Zone till the Fergusson relieves us in a month's time." "A month can be a long time in space." A smile attempted to escape onto Wittock's face. "Just hold her together till then, Hazel." The smile escaped. "Now, lets have a look at what your doing wrong." Wittock could see that the Captain was just as worried about the Enigma's state of repair as she was. He can just hide it better, she thought, as she escorted him into the Chief Engineer's Office. ============================================================================ Chapter 3. ============================================================================ Hazel Wittock has been suitably impressed by the way that Strachan had handled himself in Engineering. She had only know him, personally, for about thirty minutes; and she was already confident that this was the man that could somehow keep this ship up and running, and successfully patrol the Neutral Zone at the same time. "Bridge to Engineering." "Bridge, Commander Wittock here. Go ahead," Hazel Wittock turned momentarily away from the work she was doing on the injector alignment to take the call. "Is Captain Strachan with you? Tony says he left him in Engineering." Wittock answered for both of them, "Yes, he's here Commander." "Would you come up to the bridge, Captain. Were receiving new orders from Starfleet." "On my way. Strachan out." He looked at Wittock, "Better get Warp on-line as soon as possible." "Sir?" "I got a bad feeling about this." * * * * * * * * The bridge of the Enigma was not very large. The present day Starfleet layout had contributed to the design by virtue of a three-seat command well, surrounded by the typical horseshoe tactical/security station. The rest of the command well was of the old-style design that had been standard from the days of the old Constitution class vessels; namely the expansive helm/ops panel. The upper level had two recessed stations, one at either side. With forward facing consoles, these two bridge stations accommodated the Communications Relay to the Captain's right, and the Sciences station to his left. Two alcoves were present. The one ahead and on the right of the Captain's central position concealed the door to the Captain's Ready Room (which was subjectively just behind the Main Screen). The Briefing Room entrance was next to the Turbolift, in the other alcove, which was diagonally opposite it's counterpart. A Turbolift stood solitary to the Captains left. Strachan knew all this before he saw the bridge of the Enigma, but that first view was something that he had always looked forward to. The Captain has the right, he thought, to savour the first view of his bridge. The Turbolift doors snapped open. "Captain on the bridge!" "At ease, Number one," Strachan didn't have time for the formalities. He strided down into the Command well and turned to his First Officer. Nicole T'zer. Their eyes met for the first time in over eight months, "It's been a long time, Tyler," sotto voice from T'zer. "I know," Strachan responded in the same tone. Then he stepped up a gear. "Report, Number One." "Ship's status is that all auxiliary systems are on-line. All impulse speeds available. Engineering reports that they will be attempting another Warp power restart in 3 hours." "Why so long?" "Commander Wittock wants to leave the primers time to reset after the previous episode, and the alignment checked before she 'throws a bucketful of armageddon into the core.' Her words, not mine," T'zer couldn't help but let out an impish grin, "It's nice to have you on board, Sir." "You too, Number One." Strachan turned to The Communications Officer, "Lt Bryson, get Admiral Hansen, Starfleet." "Aye, Sir," the young Lieutenant had only seemed to be working for a few seconds when, "Admiral Hansen on the Main View screen, Sir." "Thank you Lieutenant." The main view screen changed to that of an older man, sitting behind a desk. His face portrayed that of a man that had lived for a a lifetime already. "How are you settling in, Tyler?" "Hold up, Harry. I've only been on board for about 30 minutes." "Sorry for the rush. We have a problem at this end. You understand your orders for the patrol?" "Yes. Why the question, Admiral?" "Your departure time has been moved up. You leave in 15 minutes." "WHAT!" Strachan was furious, "Have you seen the condition of this ship!" "Yes, I am, Tyler. Sorry." "And you still expect us to just get up and go?" "You don't understand the situation. The ship you were meant to complement by the Neutral Zone?" Strachan answered the question, "The Lafayette, it's a good ship." "Was a good ship. Past Tense." Hansen's voice dropped a tone, "We received a subspace message about 10 minutes ago. It was voice only. It read as follows: 'Starfleet Command from USS Lafayette. We are under attack. Repeat, we are under attack.' That's all we got. She stopped transmitting. You have to get out there, Tyler. There is no patrol in Sector 14. If the Romulans decide to invade, and that looks a strong possibility; they can storm through this... hole in our defence and run riot. Get out there, Tyler. Now. I don't care how you do it. Just do it." Strachan was appalled, "Aye, Sir. Enigma out." The view screen showed the pastoral view of the Earth, "Lets get to work, crew." He settled back into the Command Chair. I hope to God Starfleet know what their doing. ============================================================================= Chapter 4. ============================================================================= "I'm sorry, Hazel, but that's the way that it is." Why the hell does this always happen to me? Hazel thought. "I need the Warp engines on-line, and I need them on-line now. Understood?" "Yes, Sir. Engineering out." Struck down by the near impossibility of the task, Wittock turned to the rest of the Engineering Department. They were all looking at her. "You heard the man; lets move it! If he wants his bloody engines so bad, let give them to him!" She marched out to the main display console. "Okay, Reeve. What temperature is the Warp core at?" Wittock's deputy, Chad Reeve, studied the display for a moment, "2 million Kelvin, and steady." "Bring it up to 2 and a half. Slowly." The main core started to hum. The combination of the plasma inducers, and the squeezing of the internal air by the large scale magnets, slowly raised the temperature to that required for a 'cold' start. "Core temperature is now at 2.5 million Kelvin... it's staying steady." Wittock was wary of the next step. It required that minute amounts of anti-matter were injected into the Warp core. The problem was not the amount of anti-matter; more like that the stream had to be kept within a target area of roughly 9 cubic centimetres. Considering that the anti-matter stream was something like 11 metres long, Wittock was allowed to be nervous. "Introduce the anti-matter stream." She had deliberately left the next line hanging in the air. Everyone knew that this was where the problem had started during the last start-up. "Anti-matter stream is starting..." The main core started to pulse. Particles of deuterium met their anti- particles, and the plasma streams leapt out into the power conduits... "How's the cross-section, Reeve." Wittock looked nervous. So did Reeve. He checked the display, "4.78cm. It looks as though we made it" "Bad move Chad," panic started to appear at the fringe of Hazel's voice, "the stream's drifting! Bring the reserve phase adjustment coils up to speed! NOW!" The whole of Engineering moved as one. The engines had to come on- line now, or the system would have to be laid off for days... * * * * * * * * The Bridge crew could only sit and wait. Strachan was well aware of the... problems that they were having. Damn, the whole ship was the problem. He knew better than to disturb any Engineering crew whilst starting up a Warp drive, let alone Wittock's. From what he had seen of his new Engineer, she could be tricky to handle. The Conn Officer, Lieutenant Robin Leflar, was probably more anxious than most. Having served in Engineering aboard the Enterprise-D, she knew how tricky the process was. Sitting around, waiting for whatever was going to happen, to happen, was more than enough to put her on edge. Law 24, she thought, What you can't fix, leave. And the bridge waited on Engineering * * * * * * * * "The stream settling back into place!" "Good work, Chad. Good work everyone." Wittock breathed a sigh of relief. The hardest hurdle had been overcome. Time to let the bridge know what was happening, "Wittock to Bridge." "Strachan here. Go ahead, Engineering." "We have a stable Warp Core. Your clear for Warp One. Be careful, mind you." "Thank you, Engineering." Strachan closed the link. He turned to T'zer, "Here we go." "All or nothing," T'zer responded. Strachan, smiling, turned to his Helm Officer, Pete Dalrymple, "Set course 174 mark 53" "Course set, Captain." Strachan paused. He hoped Engineering were right. "Bring us up to Warp One, Helm. nice and slow, mind you." "Aye, Sir," Dalrymple's hands moved over the console, dancing round the controls as if they were walking on air. The Enigma moved out of it's high Earth orbit, heading for deep space. "We have Warp 0.5, Captain." "Thank you, Helm." Strachan was doing his best not to wince. This has to be the only ship I know of that has deck plates that vibrate this bad, he thought. He looked around at his Bridge Crew. Strachan could see the tension that was present in their minds. The body language he could see was to profound to misinterpret. "Warp .6, Captain." Strachan took in his Second Officer. Pete had been the fastest riser through the ranks that he had known, making his present rank in just under three years, mainly because of the commando raids he had led into Cardassian space. It had taken Strachan 6 years to reach the same level as Pete was at. "Warp .7, Captain." I'm going to have to have a word with Wittock about these deck plates. This ship was definitely not in the best of condition. I hate to think what Warp 5 is going to be like. Probably tear us apart, even without that damned speed limit that Starfleet have imposed. "Now at Warp .8." T'zer was worried as well. All her training had led up to this point. Only another year, her father had said, then you'll have your Captaincy. Her Vulcan training said that to her as well. The advantages of being brought up by the Federation Ambassador on Vulcan had it's advantages. Mind you, being a human on Vulcan had been awkward. Nobody to enjoy the sunset with. She stole a glance at Tyler. "Now at Warp .9." Dalrymple's voice sounded strained. The vibration was getting to Strachan. He was thankful that he had a seat. How did Bowland manage to keep upright. Sure, the vibrations weren't that bad. But, boy, they set him on edge. It was like sitting on a laboratory centrifuge. Suddenly, the vibrations ceased. "We have Warp One... Now." The Enigma heeled over, accelerated past the speed of light, and a cascade of quantum light swallowed it, as if it had never been there. The stars all seemed to be pointing to it's destination. The Neutral Zone. =========================================================================== Chapter 5. ========================================================================== Strachan looked round his bridge. They were within 6 hours of arriving at the Neutral Zone. It had been a long journey from Earth; soon they would soon be arriving. But Strachan could not keep the doubts from the back of his mind that if the Romulans really wanted to start a war, the Enigma was in no shape to stop them. He turned his back on the screen, and entered the conference room. Strachan strided in, and took his seat at the head of the kidney-shaped oak table. His Senior Officers were there; T'zer, Dalrymple, Bowland, Wittock and Dr Eastmore. He made a start. "You all know what were going to be up against. I need to know how you all feel about the... situation we may find ourselves in." "Try suicide." "Commander Wittock?" "Let's not beat around the bush, Captain. We can't defend ourselves from a wet fish, let alone the Romulans. If we go into combat, we die. Simple as that." T'zer countered, "Surely you don't believe that. The whole point of us being here is so the Romulans know that were watching them." "You think that's going to stop them! I've fought them, Commander! I know what to expect-" "Ease up, Hazel." Strachan could definitely see where she stood on this point. What about the rest of the crew? "Bowland, what do you think?" The Sicilian Security Chief thought for a moment before answering his Captain. "If we go into combat in our present state, we would only have minimal shield, so we could not stay and fight. Neither do we have enough Warp power to run away, although that option has it's merits." Dalrymple jumped in, "Such as?" "We would live longer... by about 5 minutes" Wittock joined in the fray, "That's a bit optimistic, Tony." Strachan sized up the situation. He agreed with everything that his crew had said, but he was the Captain, he had to remain strong. Even though my legs feel like jelly, he thought. "All we have to do, is our duty." The emotion he saw round the table convinced him that no-one was even sure about that. The intercom chirped. "Captain, this is Lieutenant Leflar. Were picking up some sporadic energy readings on the scanners. This close to the Neutral Zone, it seems decidedly out of place." "Understood, Leflar. I'm on my way," he turned to face his staff, "Let's go." * * * * * * * * As the Officers standing post at the stations were dismissed, Strachan and T'zer both headed to the Sciences station, where Leflar was working. "What's up, Lieutenant?" T'zer asked. "I'm not sure. Have a look and see if you can make it out." A perspective view of the sensor readout appeared. "Correct me if I'm wrong," T'zer asked, "but should we be picking up that much neutron radiation in this sector?" "No," Strachan replied. "Leflar, try to pin down the source" "Aye, Sir." Leflar started to work. Along with T'zer's help, it would only take a few minutes. Strachan took in the Bridge while he was waiting. He was definitely on edge. The last time he had felt like this was when he first saw that damned Cube four years ago. Only this time, it was worse. At least then, he could count on his ship. Now, even that bubble had been burst. And his crew. they were all so young. They had no experience to fall back on. Just instincts. Strachan hoped that Starfleet hadn't signed all their discharge papers. Permanently. "Result coming through, Captain." "Thanks, Number One." he turned back to the station, "Where's it coming from, Leflar?" Leflar sounded puzzled, "Directly aft, Sir. It's almost as if it's..." T'zer looked at Leflar, "As if it's what?" "Leflar looked into her eyes. "As if it's... following us" T'zer looked up, fear registering in her eyes. They met Strachan's, and her voice, almost a whisper, talked to him. "A Cloaked Ship" Strachan's insides turned. "Bowland, Shields Up! NOW!" T'zer acted almost as quick. "Bryson, Red Alert! All decks!" And, as the Captain and his First Officer vaulted for the command-well, Bowland voiced their worst fears. "Warbird decloaking to the rear." "Evasive action, Mr Dalrymple." Strachans tone was a machine-gun. Bowland carried on, "It's firing. Incoming Plasma Torpedoes." "Hard to port!" The torpedo hit. "Damage Report." T'zer shouted. Bowland answered. "Decks 7,8 and 9 report major damage. All offensive fire control has been rendered inoperable. Shields are at 57%." "Why is a Romulan Warbird this far out of the Neutral Zone?" Leflar's question went unanswered. "It's firing again." "Thanks Bowland. Pete, full evasive." "Aye, Sir." The Enigma rolled over and dived down, out of the ecliptic plane. But the Warbird followed, and more importantly, so did the plasma torpedo. "Bridge to Engineering." "Wittock here, go ahead Captain." her voice sounded strained. "I need all reserve power to the shields" "No dice, Captain. All the relays are down. Its going to take a couple minutes to reset, even on full override." "Do it quickly," Strachan closed the link. "Time to impact?" T'zer answered, "10 seconds." Strachan beckoned to Bryson, "All decks, brace for impact!" The second torpedo hit. The bridge of the Enigma rocked, as the inertial dampers struggled to maintain an even keel. The lights snapped out. Almost as quickly, the emergency lighting laid it's dull, red glow around the chaos. People were picking themselves up off the floor. The Warbird circled the Enigma and took up station in front of the Starfleet vessel. Strachan coughed blood from his throat. This is not a good day, he thought. "Ship status." It was more of an order than a question. Bowland dragged himself up to the Tactical console, and hung on tightly. It was obvious that his leg was broken. "Shields are at 11%. the Warp engines have dropped off-line. Most primary systems have failed, including Life Support. Gravity Generators have been damaged, they are only giving out 0.7g." That's why I feel so light, T'zer thought. "Anything else?" "That's all I can glean from the auxiliary circuits. Apart from the fact that it's obvious that we cannot withstand another plasma attack." "I'm aware of that, Mr Bowland." Lieutenant Bryson interrupted his Captain, "Sir, I'm receiving a message from the Romulan Warbird." Strachan looked up at him. "On screen, Bryson." The view screen gave out a burst of static. Through it, the Bridge crew of the Enigma could just make out their opposite numbers aboard the Warbird. The nearest Romulan spoke. "I am Commander T'orak; Captain of this vessel. This sector has been annexed by the Romulan Star Empire. Your presence here is an act of war. You have precisely two minutes to surrender your ship; or we shall destroy it." T'orak disappeared from the screen, the communication cut. The crew were stunned into silence. An act of war. The Warbird maintained station. Decloaking, three more Warbirds appeared around the stricken Starship. Enigma was surrounded... ************************************************************************* * * * T O B E C O N T I N U E D . . . * * * ************************************************************************* Chapter 6 is posted on January 10th... Merry Christmas. Ewan Spence, Edinburgh University. ewans @ castle.ed.ac.uk exs @ dcs.ed.ac.uk Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative Path: newserv.ksu.ksu.edu!moe.ksu.ksu.edu!vixen.cso.uiuc.edu!howland.reston.ans.net!pipex!uknet!festival!castle.ed.ac.uk!ewans From: ewans@castle.ed.ac.uk (Ewan Spence) Subject: Star Trek - The New Frontier - CHAPTER 6 Message-ID: Sender: news@festival.ed.ac.uk (remote news read deamon) Organization: Edinburgh University Date: Thu, 13 Jan 1994 10:02:45 GMT Keywords: Finally... Lines: 318 The Author Speaks... ============================================================================ Right. No apology for the delay. I've finally decided that abscence makes the heart grow fonder. Unfortunatly, I have a few things to complain about. Well, one. When I posted Chapter 1, I got a response file that was close to the 20k department. For Chapter 5, remembering that it had 3 weeks to gain responses, and not 3 day a la Chapter 1, a response file of 8K is pathetic. PATHETIC! The only differnece that I can see is that I blackmailed you on Chapter 1. Now, I don't want to do that again. So, chapter 7 will definitly follow next Thursday. Any postings ater that are IN YOUR HANDS, AND YOUR HANDS ALONE. You have three choices: 1) For peolpe with little time. Post me a sig file, and a line or two on how much you are enjoying TNF. 2)For people with a few minutes to spare. Post me a paragraph or two of your opinons. 3)For people who really know what I appreciate. Post a big letter, with a review, some questions, and who you think should play the roles when Paramount decide to buy the format and film it for the new ST series (HAH!). If I can spend hours writing this, you can at least show some nettiquette and tell me what you think about it. (Chastising mode... off) Back to more friendly things. Chapter 6 shows something not commonly seen before. Action. It also has a bit of treknobabble. I'm not quite sure if I pulled this off as successfully as I set it up (Another thing you could write to me about!). It's twice as long as any chapter beforehand, and Chapter 7 will be about the same length. Some people are going to scoff at the idea I've implemented, but it was the only idea that I had that remained a) plausible in the ST universe, and b) the least hokey-est. Enjoy. P.S. Congratulations to one of my readers, Mike Finn. He got married over the Christmas break. Well done and good luck, Mike! ============================================================================ Star Trek - The New Frontier. A Bridge to Far. Star Trek - The New Frontier, created by Ewan Spence. Based on Star Trek, created by Gene Roddenbery. All new material here is copyright Ewan Spence. Ewan Spence asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work. You are free to distribute this work, as long as it kept together, remains unedited, and you charge no more than nominal copying costs. ============================================================================= Chapter 6. ============================================================================= Captain's Log: Stardate 48024.9. The situation is desperate. En route to the Neutral Zone, we have been ambushed by 4 Romulan Warbirds. They purport to be in a state of war with the Federation. Needless to say, we have not been informed of such a declaration, even if there has been one. Nevertheless, we have sustained major damage to all of our primary systems. Warp power has temporarily failed. Life support has switched to the modules present in the emergency shelters. Hull integrity has been comprimised in the lower three decks. All phaser banks have been destroyed. Photon torpedo fire control has dropped off-line. Shield condition is minimal. The Romulan Commander has given us two minutes to surrender... "I take it that surrender is not a viable option." Peter Dalrymple voiced what all of the bridge was thinking. "You take it right, Pete." Strachan was thinking furiously, how do I get out of this one? 4 Warbirds would be a hard case for one of Starfleet's flagship Galaxy class vessels; but the Enigma! Nevertheless... "Engineering, I need Warp speed in under 2 minutes, or we're all dead." Wittock's voice forced itself through the speaker. It was obvious that she was on a rebreather unit, "You have to be joking, Captain! I need at least 15 minutes to even consider bringing the impulse engines back on- line, let alone think about the-" "You don't have that sort of time." T'zer cut her off, "Very soon, 4 very angry Warbirds are going to rip us open and scatter us to the four winds. You got two minutes; we need full Warp. Do it." "Yes sir." Wittock's caustic tone closed the link. "Warp power alone isn't going to be enough, you know, Tyler." "I know, Nicole. I know." The condition in Engineering was far from pretty. "It's the damned Kobyashi all over again, that's what it is." "Hazel?" "Sorry, Chad. Jury-rigging anti-matter systems in the sort of time the bridge has given us is- Seal coolant conduit 43, Ensign!- I mean." "Couldn't we just..." Back on the bridge, Strachan was still struggling with the situation, "I would appreciate some help here. Assuming we get our warp engines back-" Leflar interrupted, "Ninety seconds, Sir." "Thank you, Leflar," T'zer replied, "If we get them back, how do we use them, right?" "Right." "Captain, why can't we just ram the power full on, and aim for a gap?" Dale Bryson, at communications, asked the obvious question. Bowland replied, "By applying warp power, there is a momentary lag while the warp field forms. The Romulans, being accomplished warmongerers, would be watching for just that, and..." "So use our ECM channels to jam their sensors." T'zer answered, "ECM only covers targeting, Bryson. They would see the power up as clear as a nova." "Sixty seconds." "It's a good idea, Bryson. Anyone else?" Strachan enquired. Leflar suddenly chipped in, "So we need to blind the Warbird sensors totally. Correct?" "4 Warbird's sensors, remember," Bowland reminded the young conn officer. "Thanks, Tony," Leflar said, "We use a static discharge, Captain." "Leflar?" Strachan enquired, quizzically. Leflar spoke more confidently this time. "I read a paper about it a few months ago. The Marines," a cursory nod towards Dalrymple, "rigged a multi-role shuttle to give out the required static field for some sort of increased phaser range effect. It blinded the sensors of a nearby frigate. Only for a few seconds, mind you-" "But Tyler," T'zer reminded Strachan, "we don't have those sort of generators on-board the Enigma." "Yeah-" "Engineering to Bridge." Strachan looked up at the ceiling, hopefully, "Bridge here. Go ahead, Wittock." The strained voice sprung out of the air, "I think we got minimum warp power. Maybe warp two. But it's 50-50 at best." "Keep at it, Hazel.But were going to need more. A lot more. Bridge out." "Thirty seconds." "Okay, Leflar. With warp back on-line, it looks like all we need is this discharge. Ideas?" Pete turned into the command well, "Couldn't we adapt the forward shield generators. I mean, if it comes off, the Romulans are going to be on our tails..." T'zer jumped on it. "Brilliant Pete. Bowland, can you do it." Bowland paused. "With the reserve power we have, forcing it all through the forward array... in conjunction with the remaining batteries would result in an overload and... probably create the desired effect. It would also give out a lovely flare." "Aesthetic as ever, Tony," T'zer quipped, "How long?" "A few moments." Strachan turned to Bowland, "Would it blind all the Romulans?" "In all likelihood, yes Sir." A smile tried to escape from Strachan's face, "Okay lets do. Bowland, on my mark, flare the shields. Pete, right after that, best warp on course 300 mark 0." "Aye, Sir." Strachan turned to T'zer, "We may yet see the light of day." "Pardon the obvious, but where do we go at warp 2, with 4 Warbirds trying to be... neighbourly?" Her left eyebrow jumped up. "The Promise Land" Tyler quipped. He spoke quietly next. "Once more unto the breech, dear friend." And then, with the air of dignity that comes from placing his life, and those of his friends, on the longest long shot that Tyler had ever gambled on, he gave the count-down... "3... 2... 1... mark." * * * * * * * * Darkness. The Enigma drifted at the crux of the Warbirds, which were bearing all their weapons banks, menacingly, on the stricken Miranda Class vessel. Brilliant white light. The front portion of the Enigma was enveloped in a star-burst of blinding energy that whisked across the saucer, under the impulse unit, and past the warp nacelles. Plasma torpedoes ensued from the Warbirds. The incandescent glow, centred on the Enigma, flickered briefly. The torpedoes detonated. Darkness. * * * * * * * * "We are clear of the Warbirds, and moving at warp 2." Strachan looked up at his Tactical Officer. He could clearly see the emotion on Bowland's face. "I take it they're following?" "Yes, Sir. They are accelerating to warp 2... warp 3... warp 4... stable at warp 4." "We're going to need more," T'zer noted. "I know," Strachan turned to the Helm. "Pete, red-line the engines." "I'm being over-ridden by Engineering, Captain." "Damn." Strachan barked into the comm unit, "Bridge to Engineering. Wittock, take out the inhibitors." The Chief Engineer's voice came back almost immediately. "No way, Captain. We overloaded every intact conduit that the ship has, plus a few I didn't know even existed. Any more and the core is going to shatter, even-" "Shatter the core, Commander Wittock," Strachan snapped. He was slowly losing his temper with his Engineer. She was saying all the right things, but in this type of situation- "Okay, Pete. Red-line them." "Aye, Sir," Pete looked worried. "We have warp 3... 3.5... Warp 4." The Enigma started to shake. Deckplates were vibrating, Bowland's almost gave way. The broken leg couldn't take the pounding. Pete continued, "Warp 4.5. She's becoming sluggish, Sir. I think warp 5 is all were going to get." "The Warbirds have increased to warp 5. They are holding in diamond formation, Sir." The strain showed on Strachan. "How we doing, Pete?" "Warp... 5. Just. We can't hold it for long." The Enigma rocked. Bowland diagnosed the cause, "Romulan disrupter fire. At this range, the shields can barely cope." T'zer turned, "Shield state?" "Risen to 34% All power is being routed to the rear shields." A display chirped, "The Romulans have increased to Warp 6." "Time to primary plasma range?" "2 minutes, Captain." "Leflar, how long to the nearest outpost?" T'zer enquired. Another explosion rocked the ship. The rear computer bank exploded. Leflar flinched at the noise, "At warp 5, about 40 minutes." She paused, "It's too far, isn't it." "That's enough of that, Leflar," Strachan retorted. "We need more speed." Bryson looked at the command crew, "Couldn't we kill the gravity generators. They're already at .7, can we drop down any more?" "T'zer?" Strachan looked for her opinion. He saw what he wanted. "I'm on it." T'zer got up and made for the Science Station. She could make the changes there. Another disruptor bolt hit he ship. Bowland made the call, "Rear shields now at 13%" "Time to plasma range?" Strachan asked. "1 minute at our present speed." "They still in formation?" "Yes, Sir." T'zer interrupted the tactical discussion, "Dale's gravity idea is ready to go. I'm dropping to one-tenth gee." "Good work. Pete, Best speed. Bryson, better alert all decks." The shipped rocked, more violently this time. The Warbirds were closing. The bridge crew were finding it hard to stay seated, and now with limited gravity... "Speed's rising. We have warp 5.1..." Another explosion- "5.3..." The roof conduit exploded- ".7..." It crashed to the floor. "Warp 6." A synthesied voice jumped from nowhere, "Warning, Exceeding Warp 5 is not permitted under Starfleet Standing Orders, Regulation-" "4 Warbirds, and we're keel-hauled by the Enviromentalists. Cancel it." T'zer reached her seat. "We're going to have to watch for debris. Low gravity, same momentum." Bowland joined in, "The Warbirds are now at warp 7. They are breaking formation. Perhaps they are reaching their limit, Sir?" More dulcet tones of the computer interrupted, "Warning. Warp shear overstress. Warning, warp shear overstress-" "Shut that damn thing off" Strachan was close to breaking. Enigma started to revolt against it's captors; Corridors around Sickbay were staring to fill with the wounded; Conduits that couldn't take the pressure were rupturing; The warp core in Engineering was showing signs of stress. The deckplates on the lower decks were slowly staring to buckle. "Wittock to bridge. What the hell are you doing to my ship?" "Wittock, it's this or the Romulans. Take your pick." "We won't need to choose very soon. You're going to rip the nacelles off the damned ship if this speed keeps up-" "That's enough Wittock. Just hold us together." The link closed, but there was no let up. "Primary plasma range in 60 seconds." Lieutenant Robin Leflar was sitting at the conn station. Suddenly, a reading gave her a puzzled look, "Captain, I'm picking up some strange readings at 045 mark 030-" "Range?" Strachan looked hopeful for a second. "5 minutes at present speed, Captain." "Damn! Thought we had something there. We need more speed." T'zer laid her hand on Strachan's, "Tyler, it's more energy we need. The speed would come naturally after that." "What else do we have." Strachan looked forlorn, " We need the Integrity field. Now more than ever, and the dampers...," he paused. "The dampers." "Wait up," The penny dropped. "Without the dampers, we turn into pancakes," T'zer protested A thin smile reached Strachan's face. "But we don't use all it's power. Just enough to outrun the enemy." Dalrymple joined in the objection. "We would still end up in Sickbay for weeks. The internal injuries would be-" "Hold up, Pete," Leflar interrupted, "The Inertial Dampers are so power intensive, we could probably siphon off just enough power to outrun them, and still remain under the threshold" "Time to plasma range, Tony." "30 seconds." "T'zer, get to work on the dampers. If you drop down the centre-line protection, we should be able to put up with about... a 5 gee fore-aft acceleration. But you don't have long." "Okay." T'zer's tried to sound hopeful, "But with all the safeguards, and the amount of time... I'll do my best." "You always do, Nicole." Strachan felt old. A bunch of kids, doing their best. A ship that should have been scrapped years ago, ready to tear itself apart. A fleet of Warbirds willing to help it. And me. Where did I go wrong? "This better work..." ============================================================================= Chapter 7 will be posted on Thursday, 20th January... ============================================================================= =============================================================================== = _______ = = STAR TREK |_______> EXPERIENCE THEIR FIRST, TERRIFYING ADVENTURE = = ----------- | | _._ ABOARD THE USS ENIGMA, IN = = THE NEW _____| |__--------' '--------__________ = = FRONTIER. \____| |_ --------------------- ________/ "A BRIDGE TO FAR." = = / | '-------___ ___-------' = = ________________/_____\_____________ STAR TREK - THE NEW FRONTIER, = = \ [=========================] [==] ) WRITTEN AND CREATED BY EWAN SPENCE = = '---------------------------------/ exs@dcs.ed.ac.uk ewans@castle.ed.ac.uk = =============================================================================== Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative Path: newserv.ksu.ksu.edu!moe.ksu.ksu.edu!vixen.cso.uiuc.edu!howland.reston.ans.net!pipex!uknet!festival!castle.ed.ac.uk!ewans From: ewans@castle.ed.ac.uk (Ewan Spence) Subject: Star Trek - The New Frontier - Chapter 7 Message-ID: Sender: news@festival.ed.ac.uk (remote news read deamon) Organization: Edinburgh University Date: Thu, 20 Jan 1994 11:01:24 GMT Lines: 333 Quick Note From Author. ============================================================================ Right. You probably want to get straight on with Chapter 7, so I'll put all the talkie stuff at the end... ============================================================================ Star Trek - The New Frontier. A Bridge to Far. Star Trek - The New Frontier, created by Ewan Spence. Based on Star Trek, created by Gene Roddenbery. All new material here is copyright Ewan Spence. Ewan Spence asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work. You are free to distribute this work, as long as it kept together, remains unedited, and you charge no more than nominal copying costs. ============================================================================ Chapter 7. ============================================================================ The eternity of space stretched out among the stars. Distance almost immaterial. The becalmed nature was wrenched apart, silently. A white disc, spewing high-energy effluxes, emerged. Then, emptiness. Tranquillity temporarily gained the upper hand. Four more intruders signalled their invasion. And as quickly as the first, they vanished into the blackness. Space closed ranks on itself, again. Peace returned. * * * * * * * * "20 seconds till primary Plasma range." Captain Tyler Strachan barely acknowledged his Security Officer, his mind was working furiously. "T'zer, the dampers?" Nicole T'zer, First Officer aboard the USS Enigma, turned to her Captain, "It's ready. I've tied it into your panel, Captain. Bowland, you'd better take this console. I can't imagine you standing after this one." "Thanks for the thought." Bowland limped over to the reconfigured Sciences Station. "Everyone ready?" Strachan looked hurriedly round his bridge. "Here we go." He pressed the light. An immense hand grabbed at every fibre of the Enigma, and it's crew. The forces of nature hurled the flotsam ever onward to it's destiny. * * * * * * * * Strachan caught his breath. This plan could only be regarded as foolhardy, at best. With the Warbirds closing into firing range, the Enigma had needed every possible nuance of speed, and more. In desperation, he had ordered the Inertial Dampers efficiency to be dropped to let loose more power for the quickly sickening engines. Maybe five gee's was to much. "Pete, are we getting any more?" The question struggled out of Strachan. The Second Officer was having just as much difficulty speaking as Strachan, "Speed rising, Warp 6.5. Warp 7. Warp 7.5. Warp 8. 8.3. Stabilising at Warp 8.5." "Bowland, Romulan Status?" Tony Bowland, now at the Sciences Station, but reconfigured to his Tactical readouts, answered his Captain. "They have definitely broken formation. One of the Warbirds have fallen behind, two are at Warp 8.7 and will be in range in 3 minutes. The final Warbird is at Warp 8.9, and will be in range in 60 seconds." "Leflar, where's that sensor blip you had a moment ago?" Strachan knew even a deuce would be helpful against the four bullets on his tail. "Sir?" A lot had happened in the last few moments. "Aye Sir. Bearing is now... 064 mark 030. It's just under 3 minutes at present speed." Leflar turned her head towards Strachan, but not without difficulty, "We probably could make it in before the Romulans, just, if it wasn't for the lead ship." "Okay, Leflar. Any idea what it is?" "With the sensors available, not until were almost right on top of it." T'zer turned as well, "It's all we've got, Tyler." "Agreed." Strachan didn't even pause, "Pete, set course for the anomaly." "Sir." Dalrymple hit the controls. The Enigma yawed, slowly, towards the disturbance. The Romulans, moments later, attacked the course change. "We still need to slow down the lead Warbird." "Thanks for the reminder, Tony." Along with the rest of the ship's complement, T'zer was struggling against the force unleashed by the dampers. Enigma was in the process of getting ready for her final dance with death. Only the torturing by her occupants was holding her back. "Minefield." Strachan's voice sounded strained, but his eyes had lit up with hope. "What?" T'zer knew that look, but didn't see where it was leading. "If we can drop a mine, the Warbird would-" "We have no mines, Tyler." T'zer's face couldn't hide the disappointment. Strachan smiled, "No. But we do have anti-matter containers." "You gotta be joking," T'zer looked horrified, "We need all we've-" "We have thirty tanks. Drop one of them. It should explode near the Lead ship. Only chance." Strachan's face, apart from the smile, looked set in it's way. T'zer didn't pause for more than a breath. "Agreed. Bridge to Engineering." * * * * * * * * The situation in Engineering was dire. That initial Romulan attack had shattered one of the Coolant pipes, resulting in everyone having to move onto rebreathers. The continuing sniping from the Warbirds had emphasised the precariousness of their position. Now, with the reduced support from the inertial dampers, the crew were having problems maintaining station. Temporary barriers had been set up by the vital monitors. Staff were pinned to them, and struggling against one in her office, was Lieutenant Commander Hazel Wittock, the Enigma's Chief Engineer. "Begging the Captain's pardon," Wittock continued, "but this is even more half-cocked than the dampers. That crazy idea's putting enough strain on the dilithium housing as it is. To drop-" "No time left. Just do it." T'zer's sharp tounge cut her off. "This is madness." Wittock looked across the engineering deck, "Reeve, get a load of this one..." Back on the bridge, Nicole turned to Tyler, "I think we need to have a word with our Engineer when this is over." "If it's ever over, I'll consider it," even with the increased gravity, Tyler turned to give her a smile. "Bowland, time to the Romulan?" "20 seconds" "Come on Wittock." "Engineering to Bridge. Your party piece is ready. I still don't approve of this, though." "Noted, but this is our last shot. Tie the toggle into the Tactical-" "Coming through now. Engineering, out." Strachan indicated to his Tactical Officer, "Got it?" "Got it, Captain." "Good. Drop it at the last possible moment before they're in range." "Understood. Dropping in 5... 4... 3... 2... 1... mark." * * * * * * * * The Enigma sprinted ever onwards. On it's underside, a hatch flew off, into the oblivion. Following it, the Enigma disgorged a hexagonal canister. It drifted. The Enigma continued on it's mad dash. The lead Warbird ran over it's efflux. The canister drifted through the crescent cut-out of the enemy vessel. Inside, the magnetic field, drained of power, cut out. Minute particles flew apart due to the nuclear forces, and jolted on the sides of the pod. A tremendous explosion hit the shield of the Romulan Warbird. The shield protested for a moment, and then submitted. Raw anti-matter hit the surface of the vessel. The Starboard nacelle, temporarily ripped free, pinwheeled into the forward boom section. The anti-matter continued blossoming. The temporarily liberated nacelle was consumed. Then the boom section. And then, the latent forces threw the remnants of the Warbird, now no more than ashes, to the interstellar winds. * * * * * * * * The Enigma fared little better in the explosion. The distance travelled since the ejection was no more than infinitesimal when compared to the power of nature that had been unleashed. The headlong run into oblivion was forced further on, in groaning protest, by the wash from the explosion. All over the ship, Enigma signalled its intent to surrender. Deck-plates shattered, power conduits ruptured in electrifying splendour. Life support, already running off auxiliary systems, struggled against the inevitable hull breaches. The Engineering decks, 5 and 6, were taking the brunt of the protest. Hazel Wittock could read, in her instruments, the condition of the ship. But it was in her heart, that she felt the pain, and the suffering. Enigma was drawing on her last vestiges adrenalin. Hazel knew that she was losing... The Bridge looked as if it had been to hell, and back. The emergency lighting, the faithful glow of red, had given up the battle. Illuminated by the jaded glow from the few panels that were still reporting the morbid facts of her condition, the Enigma was like a ghost-ship, careering into hell. "Sensors report successful detonation," reported Bowland, once his eyes re-adjusted to the light. "And the Warbird?" Coupled with the lack of a stable gravity, the hell on Earth, resulting from the lack of illumination, made even Strachan's voice sound infantile. "No discernible readings." Bowland voice took on a slight lilt, "I think we can notch up a kill." "A lucky break at last," commented T'zer. "Lets hope for another one," Strachan noted. "Leflar, how's your distortion shaping up?" "We'll be in full sensor range in a few moments, Captain." The bridge fell into a muted silence. The remaining Romulans would have noted what had happened to their counter-part. They would be sure not to let the same thing occur to them. Leflar cut through the hush, "Getting initial readings now." "Time till we're in it?" T'zer asked. "90 seconds." "And the Romulans?" Bowland this time. "90 seconds." "Okay. Leflar, tell us what it is," Strachan implored. Robin Leflar studied her instruments. The battle, if that's what you could call it, seemed to vanish from her mind. Something jumped into her mind: Your neutrinos' are drifting. She couldn't quite place it. She snapped back to the present. "Yes, Sir. Picking up sporadic radiation, possibly a- no, it can't be." The last line was almost a whisper. "It can't be what, Leflar?" This from T'zer. Leflar's voice came back in a hush, "These readings bear a striking similarity to those from that Fed Bajoran space station. The one with the... wormhole." Strachan's eyes seemed to gasp for him, "Are you trying to tell me we are barrelling, at over warp 8, towards a," he paused, "wormhole?" "I think I am, Sir. But this has fundamental changes from the other one. It looks like this is highly unstable. It wasn't here during the last sweep that the Lafayette reported on, when she was on station." "We could use it as a bolthole," T'zer exclaimed. "It's no use," Strachan sighed. "The Warbirds would just follow us through." "Not if we close the door." Pete Dalrymple piped up. "What do you mean, Pete?" Strachan asked. "I got an idea. Leflar, time to the wormhole?" "Now at 45 seconds." "Bowland, the Warbirds?" Dalrymple continued. "45 seconds." T'zer interrupted, "What's on your mind?" "Well, Commander. If, just as we enter the 'hole, we drop a couple of photons out the rear launcher, we might collapse the entrance," Pete's face suddenly gained a cruel smile, "around the Warbirds." Dale Bryson had been sitting quietly at his post. He suddenly spoke in amazement to his superiors, "But we'd end up trapped on the other side. That could be anywhere!" "Have we got any other options?" Strachan looked around the bridge. "Thought not. Right, we'll go with it Pete; even though the stress is probably going to rip us apart. Leflar, give me a constant countdown from now on-" "Aye, Sir." "Bowland, have we any rearward photons?" "In the state the system is-," Bowland stopped, and looked at his Captain. I was wrong about him, he thought, we did need this desk jockey. "I'll have two ready when you need them, Sir." "30 seconds." Leflar's words hung on the bridge. It had become deathly quiet. "20 seconds." Bowland broke the quietness, "Torpedoes ready, Captain. Warbirds closing-" his voice suddenly rose, "-Warbirds firing. Incoming Plasma torpedoes. Impact in 10 seconds." Strachan knew this would happen. "They've rumbled!" T'zer fought to keep the panic out of her voice, "Leflar! Time!" "10 seconds!" "Bowland?" "Impact in 8 seconds!" Strachan threw his dice the final time. "Bowland, put our torpedoes onto automatic fire control, if we still have it." "We still have it, Sir. Control passed over. Impact in 4 seconds." "Leflar?" "5 seconds to wormhole." We're not going to make it, Strachan thought. * * * * * * * * The first plasma torpedoes impacted into the Enigma. Helpless, she keeled over. Warp fields started to collapse around her. She dropped to Warp 7. The force from the foreign projectiles tipped the Enigma over, like a piece of derelict space junk. Warp 5. The second torpedo hit. The sheer speed of the Enigma kept her path in a semblance of a straight line. The hull itself was writhing in pain. Warp 3. Her space frame shrieked in anguish. The Warbirds closed, and let loose with disruptor fire. Warp 1. The fabric of space ignored itself for a second. The area in front of the Enigma suddenly seemed to fold in on itself, and a light brighter than a thousand suns eclipsed the tiny ship to it's aggressors. The light winked out. Precious moments later, the rip exposed itself for a second time. The Warbirds pounced on the saviour. The luminescence swallowed the ships, and then, in a cacophony of light, the forces of creation bowed to the pressures of the Enigma's parting sacrifice. The Warbirds saw, briefly, the eternity of space and time, and then ceased to exist, joining the portal in the gallery that was known as... oblivion. Peace returned. ============================================================================ T O B E C O N T I N U E D . . . ============================================================================ Thus ends Part 2. Some of you may be disappointed in what has happened here. Many of you, in your letters (of which the flow has now, mysteriously, risen; keep it up!) have made relations to how 'Starfleet won't like this, or that, etc.' have missed the points that I made when I started this all off, namely that this was to be MY version of the new Star Trek series, Voyager. This nessecitated in some jiggery-pokery to get them a long, long way away. (It was either this, or Q. And I thought using Q would be to hokey)! Okay, miscellaneous points. I forgot to thank Simon Proctor in Chapter 6, who helped me refine the original shield-flare technique. You all seemed to accept this as possible, so some credit should go to Simon. Throwaway lines have been present. Chapter 7 goes to Mike 'newley-wed' Finn. The Bar. Enigma, like most Federation ships, has a communual bar area. Unfortunatly, I can't call it 10-Forward, primarily because it's been done before, and the bar is on Deck 4! Suggestions for names would be welcomed. I'll put up a prize for the winner (if it's good enough)! Suggestions for people you'd like to see in the lead roles are another thing I'm looking for. it's amazing the amount of people you think are suitable for the crew. Someone even recommended John Cleese for Bowland's role... For the people who are reading this, and wondering what the hell is going on... Back Chapters are being stored in Joe Young's archive (129.130.10.80), in the pub\alt.startrek.creative\incomplete archive. If you've no access to FTP, then you can mail me for them. Finally, a big thanks to all those who have taken the time to E-mail me their thought on TNF (THANK YOU!!!). Judgement Day may be a while in coming, but when it does, all your names are in my 'nice people who should actually get to live' book. Repent now! PS:- Never, ever, play poker with DavidF, from Glasgow Uni! He knows what I mean! --Ewan (the (popular?) Author). =============================================================================== = _______ = = STAR TREK |_______> EXPERIENCE THEIR FIRST, TERRIFYING ADVENTURE = = ----------- | | _._ ABOARD THE USS ENIGMA, IN = = THE NEW _____| |__--------' '--------__________ = = FRONTIER. \____| |_ --------------------- ________/ "A BRIDGE TO FAR." = = / | '-------___ ___-------' = = ________________/_____\_____________ STAR TREK - THE NEW FRONTIER, = = \ [=========================] [==] ) WRITTEN AND CREATED BY EWAN SPENCE = = '---------------------------------/ exs@dcs.ed.ac.uk ewans@castle.ed.ac.uk = =============================================================================== Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative Path: newserv.ksu.ksu.edu!moe.ksu.ksu.edu!vixen.cso.uiuc.edu!howland.reston.ans.net!pipex!uknet!festival!castle.ed.ac.uk!ewans From: ewans@castle.ed.ac.uk (Ewan Spence) Subject: Star Trek - The New Frontier - Chapter 8 Message-ID: Sender: news@festival.ed.ac.uk (remote news read deamon) Organization: Edinburgh University Date: Thu, 27 Jan 1994 13:03:38 GMT Lines: 218 ============================================================================ It's here!! ============================================================================ Chapter 8 of A Bridge To Far. Firstly, though, a few things to note. This is the begining of Part 3. A Bridge To Far consists of the prolouge, Parts 1 through 5, and an epilouge (Even though evrything is labelled as chapters, you should be able to spot the joins. I WANT E-MAIL!!! Do I need to drum this into you? After a wonderful response to chater 6, chapter 7 was pitiful. I don't care if all you send is a paragraph or two on your opinions (but I'd preffer a nice big letter)! I respond to EVERY BIT of mail on TNF I recieve, and will answer questions or plot queries or birthday requests in as much detail as needed, and then possibly some more. Back to the story. It seems you all enjoyed the hell bent run into oblivion in the last few weeks, but now, the pace slows down a bit. Hopefully, I'm doing the right thing with some of the characters, and hopefully, the story should be (starting to) bind together now (I hope so, anyway)! So, read Chapter 8, think about it, go have a nice hot cup of tea, and mail me on what you think! --Ewan (the (patiently waiting for E-mail) Author) ============================================================================ Star Trek - The New Frontier. A Bridge To Far. Star Trek - The New Frontier, created by Ewan Spence. Based on Star Trek, created by Gene Roddenberry. All new material here is copyright Ewan Spence. Ewan Spence asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work. You are free to distribute this work, as long as it is kept together, remains unedited, and you charge no more than nominal copying costs. ============================================================================ Chapter 8. ============================================================================ He dragged himself up from the floor, shaking his head to clear it. Only then did Captain Tyler Strachan realise that his ship was not attempting to pound him against the rear wall. The micro-gravity carressed him back, towards the floor of the bridge. His eyes attempted to pierce through the near darkness. "Nicole! Oh no..." Memories of a distant battle invaded his mind. Not again. The heap of flesh groaned. "Tyler?" "I'm here." "What happened." "I..." Strachan could make out some outlines. Common-sense took over from the emotions. "Anyone else up and running?" "I think so." "Bryson?" Tyler looked over at where the voice came from. Dale Bryson, Communications Chief, was balanced across the upper level, head on his console, heels on the railings. The advantages of having a tenth gee. "I'm fine, Sir," pushing himself into a lazy arc towards the command- well, "Leflar doesn't look it," as he arrived at the expansive console. "I'll see to her." "Good." Turning to face the opposite station, "Bowland, you hear me?" Strachan had left the relativly comfortable Nicole T'zer, and was drifting towards his Security Officer. Bowland had definitly seen better days. His legs, broken in the encounter, had become entwined with the base of the chair. Blood was seeping from his left temple, which had impacted on the Sciences Console. The chest was awash with blood. It looked as if he was praying to the console. "Jesus Christ, Tony." "You got a pulse?" Strachan turned, "You just sit back, Nicole." He reached down to Bowland's neck. There was a pulse. Thready, but there. "Bowland's still with the living, but only just." Meanwhile, Bryson had revived the young Conn Officer. "How do you feel, Robin?" "I have a terrible headache." "You look fine," Bryson smiled. Leflar did not look fine. Her right eye was a mass of blood, and the shoulder directly below it was dislocated, but... "I'm going to check on Pete-" "No need, Dale. I'll live. Anyone knows how to tourniquet their leg." Most of Pete Dalrymple's uniform top was in rags, holding the blood in his leg, rather than on the floor. He pushed away from his station towards Strachan, "How's Tony?" Strachan's hands didn't stop, Bowland was losing a lot of blood from his chest, "Pretty bad. We need a medical team up here." Dalrymple lost no time, the rest of his shirt flew round Bowland's abdomen, metamorphosising into another field dressing. Meanwhile, T'zer had pulled herself into the Command Chair, and was rapidly checking the Enigma's main systems. Emergency lighting trickled back to life. "Looks like Miss Wittock is still with us. I alerted Sickbay, but it looks like the whole comm system just dropped off-line. Mind you, I think Eastmore got the message." And then, the turbolift doors parted by a few inches, and a pair of hands emerged, followed in a few seconds by the diminutive Dr Eastmore. "You know, I don't usually make house calls." "Brian!" He saw the blood-soaked hands, "Tyler, what happened to you?" "No time. See to Bowland." Eastmore nodded. He moved round to the Science Station, and gently pulled Dalrymple away. A sphere of blood drifted out into the gang-way, and Eastmore got to work. More medical staff drifted up and out, onto the bridge. They dispersed towards the depleted bridge crew with typical efficency. Strachan shunned the Ensign, approaching him, towards T'zer. He stayed with Bowland. "What do you think, Brian?" "I think," this while hypo'ing directly into Bowlands torso, "that Mr Dalrymple is... a very good field doctor. Other than that, Bowland needs to be moved to Sickbay. Yesterday. Davidson, Marsa." Eastmore communicated the Lieutenant's condition, and they took him to the Turbolift shaft. Tyler suddenly worked out what was bothering him, "There's no turbolifts. Brian, did you come up the service ladder?" Eastmore smiled, "Tyler, in a tenth gee, coming up from deck 6 is no problem. Now the rest of the bridge has been seen to, we finally get to you. Come on." "I'm just bruised. Save your time for those that need it." Eastmore ignored the comment, and proceeded to run the tricorder over Strachan. He spent less than thiry seconds. "Readings are tolerable just now, but I want you in for a full check-up in the next day or two." "Understood." T'zer interrupted from the command-chair, "Engineering reports Turbolifts coming back on-line. I've isolated turboshaft 2 so the medical crews don't get into a one sided... arguement." She smiled. Engineering was true to their words. Within moments, Strachan could hear the impending arrival of a turbo-lift at the rear shaft. The doors snapped open. Hazel Wittock stormed out, a ball of fire. "What the hell are you doing to my ship!" Strachan turned. "Ready Room! Now!" The Bridge turned decidedly icy. * * * * * * * * The whirlwind ended when Strachan reached the far side of his desk. Wittock's arms slammed into the edge of the desk, taking her weight. "You went too far!" "No, Commander. You did!" Strachan had, involentary, adopted Wittock's stance on his side of the desk. Captain and Engineer were eye to eye. "You're not going to lay this one on me. This ship went so far beyond the horizon that we came this close," illustrated with finger and thumb, "this close!" "That's not why we're here." "Wrong. That's why I'm here!" Strachan said nothing for moments. He raised himself up to his full height. "Commander Wittock. Attention. Immediatly." Wittock lifted herself off the table. Slowly. Her eyes never leaving Strachan's. "This is not what-" "Silence! Let's get a few things straight, I talk, you listen." "Captain-" "I talk. You." he paused, "listen. Understood, yes or no?" "Yes..." Strachan raised a condescending eyebrow. "Sir." "When I give an order, I expect it to be carried out. Understood?" "Sir." "Carried out, immediatly." "Sir." "Not questioned." "Sir." "Not over-ridden." "Sir." Throughout all this, Strachan had been behind his desk. Now, he moved out. "Face front!" Strachan started to pace round Wittock. "You are a Commander. I am the Captain. The buck stops with me. Not you!" "Sir." "If I want to change course, what will happen to the ship?" "It will change course, Sir." "If I want to set self-destruct, what will happen to the ship?" "It will self-destruct, Sir." "If I want to fly the ship apart, what will happen to the ship, Commander?" "It will fly apart, Sir." "Do you spot the pattern?" "Sir." "Good." Strachan had ended up mere inches from Wittock's face. He moved away, back behind the desk, and sat down. "Now, return to Engineering. Conduct a full, ship-wide diagnostic. The report is to be in my hands in 20 minutes." Strachan's eyes moved back, and gazed directly into Wittock's. "Dissmissed." "But, Captain-" "Wittock! Drop that tone out of your voice." His voice became more delicate, "I don't expect to have to have this conversation again. Dissmissed." "Sir." Wittock turned, viciously, and thundered out. Strachan pivoted round and looked around the Ready Room. Situated just in front of the bridge, a large bay window took up the forward wall. Strachan stood in front of it, and gazed out amoung the ancient miracles. I don't recognise even one of these constellations. Where the hell are we... ============================================================================ Chapter 9 hits the ether next Thursday ============================================================================ =============================================================================== = _______ = = STAR TREK |_______> EXPERIENCE THEIR FIRST, TERRIFYING ADVENTURE = = ----------- | | _._ ABOARD THE USS ENIGMA, IN = = THE NEW _____| |__--------' '--------__________ = = FRONTIER. \____| |_ --------------------- ________/ "A BRIDGE TO FAR." = = / | '-------___ ___-------' = = ________________/_____\_____________ STAR TREK - THE NEW FRONTIER, = = \ [=========================] [==] ) WRITTEN AND CREATED BY EWAN SPENCE = = '---------------------------------/ exs@dcs.ed.ac.uk ewans@castle.ed.ac.uk = =============================================================================== Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative Path: newserv.ksu.ksu.edu!moe.ksu.ksu.edu!hobbes.physics.uiowa.edu!math.ohio-state.edu!howland.reston.ans.net!pipex!uknet!festival!castle.ed.ac.uk!ewans From: ewans@castle.ed.ac.uk (Ewan Spence) Subject: Star Trek : The New Frontier : Chapter 9 Message-ID: Sender: news@festival.ed.ac.uk (remote news read deamon) Organization: Edinburgh University Date: Thu, 3 Feb 1994 14:38:01 GMT Lines: 153 ============================================================================ It's Time For The Author To Speak! (E-mail has slowed up, get it going again....) Not a lot to say this week. I've had it rough, so I hope you lot appreciate Chapter 9. It's going to get depressing from here-on-in. Oh, well. Till next Thursday. --Ewan (the (Not in the best Frame Of Mind) Author) ============================================================================ Star Trek - The New Frontier. A Bridge To Far. Star Trek - The New Frontier, created by Ewan Spence. Based on Star Trek, created by Gene Roddenberry. All new material here is copyright Ewan Spence. Ewan Spence asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work. You are free to distribute this work, as long as it is kept together, remains unedited, and you charge no more than nominal copying costs. ============================================================================ Chapter 9. ============================================================================ It had taken the medical staff less than 20 minutes to give each crew member a brief check-up. It was not good. Out of a crew of 169, everyone had at least two or three problems. Almost 40 had to be taken to sickbay, 26 in a critical condition, Bowland among them. There had been 18 deaths. It was a full hour before Strachan had been able to pull the bulk of his remaining senior staff out of making emergency repairs, so that they could call some shots. The Observation deck was again full, and clearly lit, now that Engineering had managed to get the main Life Support back on-line. Around the table with Strachan were T'zer, Dalrymple, Wittock and Eastmore. Bowland's place was taken by his deputy, Amber Hardcastle. Strachan had left the bridge in Leflar's hands. "...sickbay can cope, Captain." "Thank you, Doctor. Commander Wittock, inform us of your latest findings on the ship's condition." "A deathtrap." They all smiled, T'zer especially. All except Strachan. "Wittock." The warning in his tone was obvious. Wittock's expression betrayed itself, "We were damned lucky. The final plasma attack took out the warp drive. Coupled with that sort of damage, and the strain placed on the core, I'm amazed that we lasted as long as we did. Even at that, we've just found out that the Dilithium articulation frame, thanks to the forces it experienced, fractured most of the crystal. When the Warp comes back on-line, we won't have long." "Till?" "Till no more functional dilithium crystals. And then we can't focus the plasma stream. Full stop. No warp power. At all." Eastmore's face looked horrified. "Then how do we get home?" Strachan pivoted, "Miss Hardcastle?" "With what little sensors we had left ten minutes ago, our sighting range is less than half a parsec. We can only detect one star. It has two planets in orbit around it. One is M class. Better readings should be available as soon as the main array comes on-line." Dalrymple turned to her, "How far?" "The M class planet?" "Yeah. How far?" "8 hours at Warp 1." "That's cutting it fine," Wittock interrupted. "8 hours of Warp 1 is going to run the system bone-dry." "Will it hold?" T'zer asked. "No choice, Commander. It has to." Silence. Strachan knocked that on it's head, "Commander. It will hold, won't it." It was not a question. "I know a few tricks. We'll get there, Captain." "Then we hope we can find some lithium to synthesise," this from T'zer. "The impulse engines should hold together for a couple of weeks orbit time," Wittock stated. "And I'll be able to process the lithium using impulse power alone. If you don't mind breaking a few regulations, Captain." Strachan almost laughed. He caught himself in time. "Okay, Commander. I'll take the rap." The pseudo-strictness faded. Polite chuckles were heard. T'zer came in, "Anything else?" Nobody indicated there were. "Okay. Dissmissed." They filed out. All except Strachan. T'zer saw this, and made her way back towards the head of the table. Neither of them said anything for a minute or two. Finally, Strachan raised his eyes to meet T'zers. "What have I done." The voice was deadly quiet. T'zers response was just as silent. "What you had to do." "I know. But... Damn," This was forced out. "What the hell were Starfleet on when they sent this flea-pit out. They lose a ship. So what do they do? Send a sacrifice to see if the Romulans are really at war. And I was their thorn. They might has well fired me." He collapsed in the chair. Nicole T'zer moved in behind him. Hesitently, her hand rested on Tyler's shoulder. "You don't really mean that. When you called me, you were so high on-" "I was blind." "The good usually are." "If I ever see Hansen again..." "I know." Nicole waited a heartbeat, and tightend her hold on Tyler's shoulder. This bridge looked as if an Acadamey Class just failed the final scenario again, Dalrymple thought. Repair crews were hanging from panels, legs seemed to grow out from under the stations. "Anything to report, Leflar?" "Engineering expects Warp power to be available in 40 minutes. We should also be getting some initial readings from the long-range sensor in a few moments." "Thank you, Lieutenant. Take the Sciences Station, and find out where the hell we are." "Aye, Sir." Leflar proceeded to move to the alcoved station, being careful, now that the gravity was back to normal. The bridge returned to the frenzied calm for a few minutes. Leflar broached it. "Hardcastle, come and take a look at these readings." Lieutenant Amber Hardcastle, deputy Security Chief, arrived behind Leflar. "What is it?" "The sensors have just passed a Level 1 diagnostic, but I'm not even picking up a carrier wave from the Starfleet relay beacons." "But, that can't be." Hardcastle looke stunned. "You got something?" Dalrymple materialised beside the two lieutenants. "Could be Sir. "Leflar answered. "Without the beacons-" "The subspace relay beacons?" "Yes, Sir.I t's going to be incredibly hard to pin down our location. We don't even have a speed or time base to try to extrapolate." "Any ideas?" Hardcastle asked Dalrymple. Pete sighed. "Nope. Leflar?" "Just one. I could try to identify 3 pulsars from their on-off cycle, and use the redshift to triangulate Enigma's position. It wouldn't be very accurate, mind you-" "Do it." "Aye Sir." Dalrymple stayed with Leflar. "How long?" "A few minutes." They waited. "Coming through now, Sir. Oh no." "Run it again." Dalrymple looked in shock at the readout. Leflar re-started the program, and this timne monitored the calculations. The time seemed to strech out. Finally, the screen duplicated the number. "How long to reach even a suitable distance for Starfleet to send out a long-range rescue tanker? On a one-way trip for the tanker." "At cruising speed?" "Yeah." Leflar touched some controls. Almost instantaneously, the computer printed up their destiny. "Over 26 years..." ============================================================================