Subject: Star Trek - The New Frontier - Xmas Special
From: [email-masked] (Ewan Spence)
Date: Thu, 16 Dec 1993 12:04:09 GMT
Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative

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 [email-masked] or [email-masked]

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: [email-masked] (Ewan Spence)
Subject: Star Trek - The New Frontier - CHAPTER 6
Message-ID: <[email-masked]>
Sender: [email-masked] (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  =
=  '---------------------------------/ [email-masked] [email-masked] =
===============================================================================

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: [email-masked] (Ewan Spence)
Subject: Star Trek - The New Frontier - Chapter 7
Message-ID: <[email-masked]>
Sender: [email-masked] (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  =
=  '---------------------------------/ [email-masked] [email-masked] =
===============================================================================

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: [email-masked] (Ewan Spence)
Subject: Star Trek - The New Frontier - Chapter 8
Message-ID: <[email-masked]>
Sender: [email-masked] (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  =
=  '---------------------------------/ [email-masked] [email-masked] =
===============================================================================

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: [email-masked] (Ewan Spence)
Subject: Star Trek : The New Frontier : Chapter 9
Message-ID: <[email-masked]>
Sender: [email-masked] (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..."

============================================================================