Danny Amor's Online Library/Danny Amor's Online Library - Volume 1.iso/html/startrek/old-incomplete/startrekthenewfrontier.p1-11

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From: [e-mail] (Ewan Spence)
Subject: Star Trek - The New Frontier - REPOST (1/3)
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Date: Mon, 2 May 1994 10:37:12 GMT
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==============================================================================
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 (who
doesn't appear for at least 5 chapters). 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 and encouraged (go easy, mind you); but no flames please (i.e. I
hate the the complete idea of this, etc.).

My hope for this crew is that Alt.Startrek.Creative takes them onboard as
"our new series" and writes a significant number of stories about them. To
aide this, once I finish _A Bridge To Far_, I'll mail the Character sypnosis,
Ship data, etc to anyone who wants to write a decent story!

Ewan Spence, November 1993.
E-Mail on [e-mail]

==============================================================================
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 write to be identified as the author of this work (I always wanted to
put that in!). Standard disclaimers apply. 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 shuttlecraft, 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 suprise 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 befoe 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 neccesary
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 Mediterrainean. 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 tha 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 respnd, "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 Acadamy,
I would have been happy in a scout ship."
    "You probably would have been safer in one of those. The Enigma
should have been decommisioned 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 detterent, not a dustbin."
    "Your opinion is noted, butI 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 franticly 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 antim-matter registering."
    "Right, were okay," she was slightly calmer now, "Computer, drop the
containment field. Authorisiation Wittock-three-eight-foxtrot."
    "Confirmied. 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 neccesary
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 spaceworthy 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 critcally damaged in the same
explosion," Strachan's tone had turned cold.
    "Yes, Sir."
    "Were only going to be patroling 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." Her 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 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 Sub-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 NU E D . . .
===========================================================================

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Subject: Star Trek - The New Frontier - REPOST (2/3)
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============================================================================
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.
============================================================================

    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 . . .
============================================================================

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Subject: Star Trek - The New Frontier - REPOST (3/3)
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============================================================================
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.
============================================================================

    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..."

===============================================================================
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From: [e-mail] (Ewan Spence)
Subject: Star Trek - The New Frontier - CHAPTER 10
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============================================================================
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 10.
============================================================================

    The stillness in Engineering permeated the whole ship. Jury-rigged
repairs were visible throughout the section. Crew-members not at work
at the main stations were hanging out of service hatches, climbing out of
jeffries tubes, and tending to the warp core.
    The warp core. Wittock still felt a shiver run down her spine when she
contemplated the insaneness of what just had to be done. Every single
regulation in the book, and in her own body, said that what was about to
happen was wrong. But they had been left with little choice. The Enigma
had to get to a planet, any planet, if it was to stand a chance. No matter
how small that chance would turn out to be.
    "Dilithium holding steady, Commander."
    "Thank you, Mr Reeve."
    Wittock took in all she could muster from the display. The dilithium
was the key to using anti-matter. When subjected to the right
frequencies, it was the only element that could be used to focus the
plasma streams resulting from the tremendous forces released by the
nuclear anhialation.
    "Bridge from Engineering. Cleared for Warp One. No more.
Engineering out." Hazel was not in the best of moods with her Captain.

    *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

    The Bridge of the USS Enigma was as wrapped in thought as the rest of
the ship. T'zer looked amused at the comments coming from
Engineering. Strachan took in Wittock's report, and turned to his Helm
Officer.
    "Mr Dalrymple, set course for Haven 1."
    "Aye, Sir. Course set at 315 mark 84."
    "Bring us to Warp 1."
    "Warp 1; aye, Sir."
    The Enigma started to vibrate. She reached Warp 1, and the vibrations
ceased. The ship was holding many hidden damages. Strachan wondered
how they would even begin to cope. Normally, I would pull us into a dry
dock for a full overhaul. I can still do that, mind you. I just have to wait
nearly a quarter of a century.
    "Haven"
    "Hmm," Strachan turned to his First Officer.
    "I mean, it's been a long time since a Federation Captain had to name a
complete system. Haven does sound... kinda homely." A pleasant smile,
more of appreciation than anything else, appeared on T'zers face.
    "I'm glad you like it." He returned the smile, their earlier discussions
forgotten, almost. "You have the bridge, Miss T'zer."
    "So noted."
    Strachan rose, and retired to his ready room, deep in thought.

    *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

    Sick-bay. A babble of noise ushered itself from the walls. The medical
staff have done a wonderful job, thought Brian Eastmore, I don't think I
could have asked for any more.
    Casualties from the battle littered sick-bay. Most of the injuries were
normally trivial for a Starship, but most of the medical equipment had
been severly damaged in the Romulan attack. Medical teams had resorted
to the old fashioned ways; cloth dressings, pressure pads, splints. the
improvisation was never ending. But some things could not be dealt with
so easily. Dr Eastmore drifted into the room he had labeled as a
temporary 'Post-Op.' Another anachronisim, he reminded himself, but
neccesary.

    He found, much to his suprise, Dale Bryson, sitting beside the
comatose form of Tony Bowland. Bryson was sitting on Tony's left,
holding his hand. Bowland was still, and unyeilding.
    "Mr Bryson-"
    He jumped. "Doc!-"
    "It's okay," Eastmore raised his hand to illustrate. "What brings you
down here, anyway?" Eastmore had, almost automatically, adopted his
'caring Doctor' voice.
    "I came in to see how..." An agonised glance towards the bed. "How
Tony was doing."
    "He's going to be fine." He was very quiet.
    "So what's wrong with him? Why isn't he moving?"
    "Were you two close?"
    "You could say that." Bryson looked up, tears forming in his eye. He
blinked them away. "Why isn't he moving? He's not sleeping. Why, Doc?"
    Eastmore briefly stared at the ceiling, and then back to Bryson. "He's
in a coma."
    Bryson looked as if his world had caved in. He almost crashed to the
floor. He staggered for a chair. "But... What... How..." His eyes
glistening, he caught Eastmore's gaze. "You got to do something for
him." Back to Bowland. "You got to bring him back." Return to Eastmore.
"Please?"
    Eastmore felt empty. Bryson was so young. And all this death.
Eastmore never understood why the Acadamey prepared the youth for
the glories of command, and failed to even educate on one simple issue.
Fragility. "There's nothing I can do for him," He crouched down to Dale's
level, "I don't have the nessecary equipment to bring him round."
    "You do so!" Bryson's voice had taken on the tone of an injured
schoolboy, "I saw them on the manifest! You're lying! Why?"
    Eastmore drew closer. "They were damaged in the attack. We just have
to let his body get over the operation itself."
    "Operation?" It was no more than a whisper of wind from Bryson.
    "We had no choice, Dale. It was that, or let him die." His words hung in
the air.
    Bryson made eye contact. The tears were fighting to get through, but
he maintained his composure. "What did you... I mean... You..."
    Eastmore was lost. He detested doing this, but could think of no way
in which to break it gently to Bryson. He turned to Dale's fallen
comrade, and lifted the covers.
    "No..."
    Tony Bowland's legs halted, abruptly, at the knees.
    "No... Not Tony. No..." Bryson's tears broke through. He collapsed into
Eastmore's waiting arms.

    *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

    The Bridge crew marvelled at the main view-screen. A Bilios Blue-
Grey planet stared back. Haven 1.
    "Time to Orbit?" Strachan asked.
    "10 more miutes at Warp 1, Sir." Pete Dalrymple looked up to gaze at
the planet.
    "Bridge to Engineering."
    "Commander Wittock, Captain. Go ahead."
    "I thought you might like to know that we'll be in orbit in 10 minutes. It
looks as if the dilithium is going to make it."     "Good. It's almost totally
de-crystalised. I'd better get back to monitoring it, Sir."
    "Wittock."
    "Yes, Sir?"
    "Well done, down there."
    "Aye, Sir. Wittock out."
    T'zer caught the lilt in the end of Wittocks talk. "I take it your little
chat sunk in?"
    "Looks like it."

    *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

    The planet, now named Haven 1, reached out and caressed that which
bestowed it's title. The fingers of gravity gently clasped the fragile ship,
and carefully, moved it into orbit. The band of colour hanging from the
two nacelles flared briefly, and died.
    Enigma was forced onto impulse power, warp drive unable to perform
until repairs were sufficently advanced. And then what? An uncertain
future faced her crew.
    The tiny star that gave it's name to the system, Haven, slowly emerged
from below the planet's horizon. The light that had taken over 8 minutes
to travel from the surface, bathed the Enigma in it's warmth. A new day
was about to dawn.

============================================================================
             Chapter 11 meets the ether next Monday...
============================================================================

From [e-mail] Tue May 10 12:16:41 1994
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From: [e-mail] (Ewan Spence)
Subject: Star Trek - The New Frontier - Chapter 11
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Here comes Chapter 11 of New Frontier. Hope your enjoying it's (revival)
new style of downbeat Trek writing. Let me know what you think..

    --Ewan (the 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 11.
============================================================================
Captain's Log: Stardate 48025.7. The Enigma has managed to reach the
orbit of a local star system. Due to our circumstances, and a little used
regulation, I have decided to name the system Haven. The Enigma's
condition can only be described as diabolical. The journey through the
worm-hole has caused problems in nearly ever single system, especially
our Warp core. It has resulted in a failure in the dilithium crystals. We
have conducted a long-range sensor sweep on the surface of the planet,
but cannot tell much about it in our present state. Anything could be
down there. Commander Wittock has found what appears to be deposits
of lithium. She assures me that she can synthesis the necessary amounts
of pure dilithium from these deposits...

    The shuttle-bay, silent in it's splendour, was awash with activity. The
Enigma's four shuttle-craft had what little engineering staff could be
spared, crawling all over them. Located to the rear of the bay, Captain
Strachan entered. He looked around.
    "Mr Reeve?" the request echoed throughout the bay.
    A head poked out from one of the small shuttle-craft, "With you in a
minute, Captain." The head disappeared. Less than a heartbeat later, he
climbed out and approached Strachan.
    "Your report, Mr Reeve. How are the shuttles?"
    "Well, they've taken a tremendous amount of damage in the last 12
hours. Until we can get the raw materials from the replicators," they
were off-line under emergency power considerations, "we're having to
cannibalise the more severely damaged shuttles to get even one working.
At the moment, our best bet lies with the Hamilton. She's almost ready
to roll, as it is. The Chalmers would be ready, but she took a bucket-load
of shrapnel damage, and the life-support is non-existent. We're using the
Rosenberg and the Bellarmine for spare parts. Anything else, Sir?"
    "No, that's fine. Call me when you have one of them operational."
    "If you mind me asking, Sir, but you could have gleaned this over the
comm circuits. Why drop in?"
    "After what we've been through, I need to know that everything is still
here. And the crew probably want to make sure I'm still in touch."
    "Understood, Sir. Permission to return to repairs?"
    "Granted. Carry on, Mr Reeve."
    "Sir." He turned on his heels, and jogged back to the Hamilton.
Strachan watched him for a second, wondering where he managed to lay
his hands on enough repair coveralls for all the repair crews, and headed
out to Engineering.

    It looked as if Engineering had fared little better. The first thing he
noticed was that there was no feeling of power in the deck. It was cold,
and listless. Two ensigns were attending at the expansive monitor table,
but Strachan could see no-one else.
    "I sent them all to their bunks," a voice enlightened him.
    "Commander Wittock?" Strachan turned, and saw his Chief Engineer
emerged from the Jeffries Tube access.
     "I sent them all to get some rest. They deserved it. After what we've
been through. We lost four crew, and three others inhaled a lot of coolant
fumes."
    "You still blame me, don't you?"
    Wittock looked lost. She had never heard Strachan like this before. It
was almost as if his world had dropped from under him. "Permission to
speak candidly, Sir?"
    "As always."
    She took in a deep breath. "I don't... agree with what you did. Or how
you did it. All I know is that you pulled our butts; my butt; out of the
fire."
    There was an awkward silence. Wittock dropped back onto the wall,
and took her weight on her shoulders. "We've got a long trip ahead of us."
    "I know."
    The silence again. Strachan stopped it, but quietly. "Lets just make sure
we don't," he struggled. "repeat what happened before."
    "Agreed."
    "Do you have the equipment ready for mining?"
    "Yeah. Just waiting on a shuttle. We don't have the power reserves for
transporters."
    "Who's on your team?"
    "Ensign Bell, Lieutenant Green, and myself."
    "Good. Commander T'zer will lead the team."
    Wittock was almost going to say something. She stopped. "Yes, Sir."
    "Good luck."
    "Thank you, Captain."

    *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

    "Shuttlecraft Hamilton reports ready for launch, Captain."
    "Thank you, Miss Hardcastle. Bridge to Hamilton."
    "Shuttlecraft Hamilton, Commander T'zer here. Go ahead, Bridge."
    "You are cleared for launch."
    "Aye, Sir. Hamilton out."
    Strachan looked round his bridge. A Skeleton staff were on duty.
Nearly everyone else was either sleeping off injuries, or on damage
control parties. Only Strachan, Hardcastle, and Leflar were on station.

    The USS Enigma, helpless in orbit, lacking the power to break out,
even if it wanted to, exposed a small, hairline, crack at it's rear. It
enlarged, and revealed it's only shuttle-bay.
    Inside, the three crippled shuttles were tied down, to prevent the de-
compression pulling them out. The Hamilton rose off the deck, and
powered out into the blackness.

    "Shuttlecraft Hamilton clear, and free to manouvere."
    "Thank's, Hazel."
    The two officers at the sharp-end turned to each other to share a smile.
Not only shoe-horned into the small shuttle were Commanders T'zer and
Wittock, but engineering staff members Steve Bell and Ben Green. Mining gear
was packed into the rear half of the compartment.
    "Atmosphere entry in 44 seconds."
    "Course to first lithium seam, Hazel?"
    "194 mark 34."

    The bridge of the Enigma eavesdropped in on the Hamilton. Strachan
didn't, couldn't, have anything go wrong now. Without that lithium...
    "Captain, picking up a large power surge from the planet's surface. It
wasn't there last time we scanned this section."
    Strachan turned to Amber Hardcastle, "A possible danger to the
Hamilton?"
    "Possibly, Sir."
    "Re-scan the area."
    It took but a few moments, "It's not natural, Captain."
    "You sure on that?"
    "Sir."
    "USS Enigma to Hamilton. Come in."
    No response.
    "USS Enigma to Hamilton. Come in."
    A burst of static. Strachan could have sworn he could hear T'zer's voice
over it. I would place bets on that voice anywhere. "Leflar, can they still
hear us?"
    "Unknown, Sir."
    He made his decision. "All decks, Yellow alert. Leflar, do we have any
reserve impulse power to chase them?"
    "Not at this time, Sir."
    "Keep trying to hail them. And try to free up some more impulse power."

    "You hear something on the comm, Commander?"
    "Not sure. Maybe-"
    "There it is again. Shuttlecraft Hamilton to Enigma, respond please."
    Nothing.
    Wittock turned to her superior, "That's not static. It sounds like a
jamming beacon."
    "From where?"
    "Scanning." The fingers moved across the console. "Dead ahead."
    "It can't be. We didn't pick up anything in our previous scans-"
    T'zer never finished. The Hamilton pitched up, the consoles exploded
in sparks, and the smell of burnt flesh permeated the cockpit. The
Hamilton nosed over, and dived, unsteadily, for the planets surface.

    "The Hamilton has changed course, Sir."
    "Where to, Hardcastle."
    "Unsure. It seems out of control, and heading for the surface."
    "Leflar, tractor it."
    "It's out of range, Sir."
    "Intercept course. Best speed."
    "Aye, Sir. Diverting partial power from decks 7 through 10."
    "Time to tractor range, Hardcastle."
    "30 seconds."
    "I'm picking up a surge in the power source, Sir."
    "Shields up, Red alert!"
    Hardcastle responded instantly, "We have partial shields, 24%"
    "The surge is increasing again."
    "Oh my god," a look of ashen fear appeared on Hardcastle's face,
"Change course, Leflar. Now!"

    But it was too late. A huge burst of blue light lanced from the surface
and pierced the fragile shields, pinning Enigma in it's orbit. The alien
tractor beam had taken hold, and was slowly pulling the vessel towards
the atmosphere...

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                    T O   B E   C O N T I N U E D . . .
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