Star Trek: The New Dawn

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From: tjh@praxis.co.uk (Tim Huckvale)

Subject: THE NEW DAWN: Part 1

Message-ID: <1994Feb7.135210.25338@praxis.co.uk>

Organization: Praxis, Bath, U.K.

Date: Mon, 7 Feb 1994 13:52:10 GMT

Lines: 158

Status: RO

  Thanks to everyone (well, both people) who emailed about

my last story - Minor Misdirections, although there was some

confusion as to who wrote it; I did, and then my Dad posted

it for me.

  The following story is set on a Nebula class ship about

5700SD's after the start of TNG season 7.  Hopefully it is

better than my previous effort.  It is certainly less

humorous and more sinister.

  The six parts will be posted one every couple of days, and

then all of them together a day or so after that, so if you

miss a part, hang on until the end.

  Thanks to my Dad for posting this, and hello to Stuart.

                   STAR TREK: THE NEW DAWN

                                      by Magnus Huckvale

Part 1

   Captain Ryan Wellard looked out into space.  The stars

flitted by, as his ship hurtled away from the part of the

galaxy his crew called home.

   He irritably grabbed the padd from his desk.

   "Captains log stardate 52710.8  The New Dawn has just

embarked on the first part of..." he sagged.  "What's the

point?"  he muttered.  "Cancel log entry."

   "Come." he said, several seconds before the door chime

went.  The door slid open, revealing a short, squat

humanoid.  The humanoid had pale, almost white skin, and was

partly covered with dark blue machinery.  Ten years ago,

Wellard would have leaped for the ornamental but fully

functional romulan disrupter rifle hanging on the wall.  But

it wasn't ten years ago, and the Borg standing in the

doorway, was - on a good day - regarded by Wellard to be a

friend.

   "Sorry Lieutenant!  I did it again."  Wellard apologised,

referring to his slight telepathic ability.

   "That's okay Sir, I'd rather gotten used to it.  I

brought down the survey results."  The voice was almost

human, but still retained a tiny metallic tingle on the edge

of hearing.

   "Drop them on the table.  Anything usable?"

   "Several class 4 stars Sir, but nothing large enough

as yet.  We have some on long-range scan that we'll

have a closer look at.  We picked up three Borg ships headed

in the opposite direction to us, they didn't scan us

though."

   "Good."  Wellard paused, and stared at the floor.

   The lieutenant hovered.  The one piece of advice he'd

been given for dealing with Wellard was not to leave until

dismissed.  He decided to break the silence himself.

   "Making out your log Sir?" he inquired, gesturing the

padd on the table.  This seemed to bring Ryan back to the

New Dawn.

   "What?  Oh, yes.  Though there's little point.  If we

complete our mission there'll be no-one to read it for five

thousand years, and if we don't there'll be no-one to read

it at all."

   "We have our orders Sir." the Borg said doubtfully.

   "Hah!  Orders get you nowhere, or killed, if you're

lucky.  My brother's got him killed, and look where yours

got you.  At the moment mine are getting all of us further

and further away from the Federation."

   "I am familiar with your orders Sir."  The Lieutenant's

eye's wandered round the Captains cabin.  There was a half

empty whisky bottle on the desk, although curiously there

was no glass.  He noticed the disruptor.

   "It was a gift.  Sorree!  Did it again, didn't I.  No

matter.  After Romulus went down, we intercepted three cubes

bound for Perinthi.  Four hundred Romulans were saved before

the Borg decided to attack.  We met up with a warbird and

returned them to their people, the Romulan Commander gave me

that in thanks.  The warbird was destroyed a day later

defending Ferethon 3, all those that we saved were killed."

   "They were lucky Captain.  Take it from someone who

knows.  Now the Borg try to make their 'additions' more

permanent, some of us may never be fully human again."

   Lieutenant Ralph Apdire was a HuBorg.  There were over

700,000 in the Federation.  Assimilated beings who were

rescued, but were too 'attached' to their implants to have

them safely removed.

   The Borg Empire covered more than a quadrant of the

galaxy.  In only ten years, the Borg had conquered over half

the Federation, and then moved on to the Romulan Empire, the

Klingon Empire, and the Cardassians, the Kzinti, and many other

races.  The Federation had feared that the Borg would assimilate

the Romulan or Klingon cloaking device, and although the Borg

assimilated many cloakable ships, they never used the cloaking

device, it was not their way, it was irrelevant.

   The USS New Dawn plunged on, through now deserted Borg

space.  Captain Wellard dismissed the Lieutenant and went to

bed.  The drink had made him drowsy, and he immediately fell

asleep.

   "Captain to the bridge!"  Wellard opened one eye, and

heaved himself out of bed.  He took the rifle from the wall,

and went through the door to the bridge.

   "Commander, report!" he barked.

   "Three cubes, out of nowhere Sir.  We're heading away,

and they seem to be ignoring us.  They've destroyed the

Riviera.  I'm sorry Sir, no survivors."

   Wellard started.  His brother commanded the Riviera.  Had

commanded.  Born twins, they'd entered the academy together.

Although Frank had beaten him to the rank of Captain they

had both been offered Nebula class ships.

   Wellard sat in his chair.

   "Helm, turn us about.  Increase to maximum warp.  Load

torpedo tubes."

   "SIR!  What are you doing?"

   "We're gonna get those bastard cyborgs."

   "Standing orders directly forbid conventional attacks on Borg

ships, Sir."

   "Sod 'em!  They killed my brother.  Fire antimatter

spread."

   "Sir, I can't allow you to do this."  Commander Cevenhort

found himself looking down the barrel of a large Romulan

Disruptor.

   "I'm in command here Commander."

   The ship shook under a barrage of Borg laser.

   "Shields to 5% Sir!" the Ensign at helm turned to face

Wellard.  The young boy's face turned pale, and blue metal

grew out of his ears, swallowing his features.

   "NOOOO!"  Ryan pointed the disrupter and pulled the

trigger.  He didn't need to aim, sophisticated tracking

devices guided the beam to the Ensigns head, scattering

blood over the bridge.

   "You!" Wellard pointed at the opposite station.  "Take

control, take us around and fire Warp torpedos."

   "Sir,"  Cevenhort had a phaser now.  "I'm taking control

before you destroy the ship."  Cevenhort was bright red

under the emergency lights.  The light glinted in his eye,

like a laser.  Wellard could see the machinery taking his

body, and fired again.  Cevenhorts face boiled and imploded,

his Borg implants clattered to the floor, deprived of their

biological carrier.

   "Detecting Borg transporter beams targeted on the

bridge."

   The air in front of him shimmered into a Borg.  Wellard

killed it, and another immediately replaced it, but closer. 

He killed that one.  They kept coming, until one grabbed the

rifle, and crushed it into dust.  It reached for Ryan.  Its

cold, mechanical arm reached for Ryan's throat.

---

Watch out for part 2.

Posted by:

-- 

Tim H

The nicest thing about not planning is that failure comes as a complete

surprise, rather than being proceeded by a period of worry and depression.

(Sir John Harvey-Jones)

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From: tjh@praxis.co.uk (Tim Huckvale)

Subject: THE NEW DAWN, Part 2

Message-ID: <1994Feb10.154837.25830@praxis.co.uk>

Organization: Praxis, Bath, U.K.

Date: Thu, 10 Feb 1994 15:48:37 GMT

Lines: 165

   Here is the second part of The New Dawn.

   Comments are welcomed/encouraged.

                   STAR TREK: THE NEW DAWN

                                        by Magnus Huckvale

   "Detecting Borg transporter beams targeted on the

bridge."

   The air in front of him shimmered into a Borg.  Wellard

killed it, and another immediately replaced it, but closer. 

He killed that one.  They kept coming, until one grabbed the

rifle, and crushed it into dust.  It reached for Ryan.  Its

cold, mechanical arm reached for Ryan's throat.

                           - - -

Part 2

   Blackness.

   Ryan felt dizzy, disoriented.  Where was he?  Dark, warm,

slightly damp.  He could see stars, and wisps of light skittering

past.  Oh.

   "Computer, lights."

   He reached across to the bedside table and turned on the

little gadget the doctor had given him for his dreams...

   The computer woke him an hour before his shift, and

Wellard dressed and went to the senior bridge crew mess for

breakfast.  The conversation was normally lively and

interesting despite the war, but the last couple of days

everyone had been lost in their own thoughts.

   Wellard had his mouth full of muesli when he felt his

brain being sucked through his nose.  He was so surprised he

deployed his mouthful over the tabletop.

   - I need to talk to you afterwards -

   Wellard glared at his counsellor and pretended to choke.

   "Sorry." he glanced round the table.  "Bit went down the

wrong way."

   He tapped the 'dispose' button on the table and grouchily left

the room.  He strode quickly down the corridor, and the shorter

counsellor had to jog to catch up.

   "Honestly Suimar, you could have waited."

   "I'm sorry Sir, but you always finish before me."

   -You said you wanted to talk to me -  Wellard thought, in

the mental equivalant of a shout, making the Betazoid wince.

   "I must apologize for that as well Sir, I get used to using

more effort to speak to non-telepaths.  I wondered if you wanted

to talk about the mission."

   "The mission?"

   "I believe you're not completely happy with it."

   "It's hardly complimentary, Starfleet isn't content with my

battle abilities so they send me off to the distant past."

   "On a very important mission."

   "With a 0% chance of success.  Bridge."

   "The projections were higher than that, Sir."

   "Bah, time-travel has never been attempted with a ship this

size."

   "But we've got the Federation's best scientists on board, I've

been talking to them, they're very optimistic."

   Just then the lift doors opened onto the bridge, terminating

the discussion.

   "Captain on the bridge."

   "Thank you lieutenant.  Carry on everyone.  Anything to

report?"  Wellard took his seat in the centre of the bridge.

   "No Sir, we've completed scans in areas 1, 2 and 3.  Borg

activity has risen slightly, we're probably nearing the Borg

homeworld."

   Wellard nodded, and the New Dawn flew on.

   It was nearing the end of the day shift, when the Technician

at Science 1 looked up.

   "Sir, I believe we've found what we're looking for.  A class 7

star, suitable for time-warp."

   "On screen.  Inform the technical crew."

   The system in question was tiny, two planets, and one very

large sun.  Wellard gazed at the screen.

   "Take us into orbit around the first planet."

   "Orbit in four minutes, Sir."

   The New Dawn slid into orbit around a large yellow planet, the entire

ship held its breath.

   "Transmit callsign."

   "Transmitting, aye."

   Wellard frowned, if they had a reply...

   "Receiving acknowledgement Sir, this is it."

   "Good, when is the next news broadcast?"

   "1 hour, 40 minutes Sir."

   "Fine.  Shipwide intercom." he glanced over at comms, and

received a nod.

   "This is your Captain speaking.  All decks prepare for time

travel in two hours.  Repeat, all decks prepare for time travel

in two hours."

   Time-travel, outlawed within the Federation except in extreme

circumstances, or when historians couldn't agree, was the final

final frontier.  Perhaps in a hundred years - assuming the Borg

are defeated - mankind will discover another frontier.  Before

the massacre on Earth, scientists theorised, and dreamed, about

jumping from universe to universe, between dimensions.  Fantastic

theories, pointless, but fantastic.  Maybe in a few thousand

years mankind will sort out his own street before mucking up

other people's.

   The news wasn't good.  None of it had been after Earth was

assimilated.  That had been the turning point.  After that, the

Borg knew everything about the Federation, they knew about all

the secret projects, the implosion torpedo, the Vigilante, the

Transwarp disrupters, the Nova class 'Borgbuster' ships.  The

Borg sought them out and destroyed them all.  Except for project

'New Dawn'.  By the time New Dawn was conceived, Earth was long

gone.  The USS Hawking was refitted and renamed deep inside the

Federation.  The idea was simple; send a ship back ten thousand

years, to before the invasion.  Put all the leading scientists on

it, all the great minds, and set them on one task; build a weapon

to defeat the Borg.  They could spend as long as they needed, as

many generations as were needed, and they would return.  When the

project was complete, they would travel back to Federation space,

slingshot round the nearest sun, back to starbase 103, and - as

the younger scientists put it - kick seven kinds of shit out of

the Borg.

   Scientists had theorised about what would happen if the New

Dawn returned before the Borg arrived.  It would create a

paradox, they said.  The problem was, if the New Dawn destroyed

the Borg, then the New Dawn would never be built.  It would never

travel through time. The anti-Borg weapon would never be built. 

The Borg would never be destroyed.  So the New Dawn would return

a year after it left, to reduce the chance of paradox, and it

would wipe out the Borg, and humans of all races could rebuild

the galaxy.

   "Ten-shun!"

   The bridge was silent as the crew of the New Dawn remembered

the dead.  The grim-faced Wellard forced back memories of Wolf

359, the sight of the Borg materialising in front of him as he

pushed his crew into the lifeboats.

   "All decks, prepare for time-travel in ten minutes, all

personnel report to rough-duty chairs.  Repeat, prepare for

time-travel in ten minutes."

   The New Dawn scanned every object in the solar system, and set

a course to fit.  Super-powerful computers calculated the

necessary course through time and space, and the New Dawn set

off.  The ship hurtled towards the sun, light crystallised on the

deflector screens, and tiny particles flared as they smoothly

flowed over the warp field.  Gravitic time dilation threw the New

Dawn nearly a year into the future, until time went by so fast

that it stopped, and began to pass backwards.

   The ship rounded the sun and hit warp ten.  The speed of

reality.

---

Part 3 will follow in a couple of days.

--

posted by:

Tim Huckvale, Praxis, 20 Manvers Street, Bath, BA1 1PX, UK

The Software Engineering Company of Touche Ross Management Consultants

Tel: +44 (0)225 444 700   Fax: +44 (0)225 465 205   Email: tjh@praxis.co.uk

Any opinions expressed are those of Magnus, not me, and certainly not

Touche Ross.

-- 

Tim H

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From: tjh@praxis.co.uk (Tim Huckvale)

Subject: THE NEW DAWN, Part 3

Message-ID: <1994Feb15.145238.28318@praxis.co.uk>

Organization: Praxis, Bath, U.K.

Date: Tue, 15 Feb 1994 14:52:38 GMT

Lines: 229

Here is the third part of The New Dawn.

If you miss a part, they will all be reposted after part 6.

---

                   STAR TREK: THE NEW DAWN

                                         by Magnus Huckvale

   The ship rounded the sun and hit warp ten.  The speed of

reality.

Part 3

   The New Dawn completed its turn and flattened out.  The stars

shortened as the ship came to a full stop.

   The restraints on Wellard's chair automatically unlocked him. 

   "Computer.  Status report."

   "Primary warp coil collapsed, starboard nacelle operating at

74%, portside nacelle at 61%.  All other systems functioning

within safety limits."

   Wellard opened one eye.  Everything seemed in one piece so he

opened the other.  He looked over his shoulder.

   "Where...  I mean, *when* are we, Mr Sedemi?"

   David Sedemi - his Centaurian parents had great respect for

humans - uncertainly pushed parts of the console, until the

'Working' message appeared.

   "Scanning star field...  Reads as stardate minus 4944825."

   "Five years off."  Wellard grinned.  "Not bad for a first

attempt, David."

   "Five years out means we were accurate to point oh-five

percent."  David replied.  "I had projected point four, so put it

down to luck."

   Wellard hadn't yet gotten used to the science crew on his

ship, them not calling him 'Sir' was the main thing, but having

them *technically* in charge of him was disturbing.

   "Right.  Ensign, launch the time beacon."

   The time beacon was a modified class III probe.  The idea was

very simple; when the New Dawn had time-travelled, they would

hide the beacon on the first planet of the solar system they used

for slingshot.  10,000 years later they would know if they had

the right solar system by scanning the first planet for the

probe.  The idea was to ensure the success of the time-travel.

   Wellard had decided to check on the science team, and headed

down to cargo bay 2.

   "Ah, Captain.  How can I help you?" The head of sciences was a

young, dark haired Vulcan woman.

   "Just looking around, Saieer.  What's in these crates?"

   "Those are captured Borg soldiers in stasis.  We have six

crates, with 18 Borg in each crate."

   "These are pretty heavy duty boxes, what's the point?"

   "Much of the case is subspace shielding, to cut them off from

the unimind.  To save time designing new containers, we used

these.  A side-effect is that they could survive the destruction

of this ship, and even atmospheric entry."

   "I hope you don't expect to make use of that."

   "No, I was merely...  Ah, humor."

   "Not really, just a stupid comment."

   Saieer frowned.  ~Humans~  She thought.

   "Did I tell you I was slightly telepathic?" the Captain

asked.  Before Saieer could reply he had swept into an

alcove at the edge of the room, with each wall a computer

screen.

   "This is the largest database on the Borg in the Federation,

Captain." she said, when she caught up, finding Wellard studying

a computer console.  "You can ask for footage of any of the

Borg's weapons in action, with multi-spectrum displays, subspace

overlays, even 4-D gravitic scans."

   "Most impressive, but depressing, I expect."

   "Mostly." A male voice replied.  Wellard turned to see a young

man leaning against the wall at the entrance to the computer

room.  "But that footage has allowed us to construct specialised

shields, that are more effective against the Borg.  It's another

step towards our own 'Borgbuster'.  I'm Will."

   Ryan shook Will's hand.

   "Ryan Wellard.  Do you really think an effective Borgbuster

can be built?  Even if the USS Nova hadn't been destroyed, I

doubt it would have helped."

   "I agree.  The Nova spaceframe wasn't suited to the extra

weapons, and there were problems with the warp drive.  Hopefully

with this ship, we can take our time."

   Will sat down at the console.

   "What Saieer didn't mention was that not only do we have

details of Borg weapons, we also have details of anti-Borg

weapons.  Every destruction of a Borg ship is in this computer,

and it's quite the opposite to depressing."

   Wellard's interest had been captured.

   "Show me."

   Will touched a few panels and suddenly the three were

surrounded by stars.  Wellard checked behind him to see if the

entrance was still there; it was.

   A planet came into view, Wellard immediately recognised Earth,

with the Enterprise and a Borg in low orbit.  Suddenly the

Enterprise turned and sped away, and the Borg exploded.  A faint

smile crept across Wellard's face.  The fact that that same Borg

ship had massacred so much of Starfleet was pushed to the back of

his mind.            

   The view changed again, it was a Warbird and two Federation

ships attacking a cube.  Strange how a common enemy could unite

two peoples at odds since they met.  The Warbird was hit by the

Borg, sending it spinning.  One of the Starfleet vessels was

hanging slightly back.  It fired a small photon torpedo at the

cube, which was consumed in a mass of gravitic distortion.  The

picture seemed to be twisted on that point, and then space sorted

itself out to reveal half the Borg, which was still working.  It

leapt to warp.

   Another set of stars, above a planet, it was the same cube,

and the same trio of ships screaming towards it.  The Borg

spat out at the other Starfleet vessel, and damaged it

badly.  The ship turned towards the Borg, and leapt to warp.

   Wellard winced.

   "They died with honour, Ryan."  Saieer realised how Klingon

that sounded, but she decided it had the desired effect.

   Open space, a long range view of a tubular, slug-like creature

firing anti-proton on three Borg ships.

   "The Doomsday machine." said Saieer.

   The room was lit up by a large sun. Wellard squinted at the

view, he almost expected to burn up.  Another ship was so

close to the sun, again chasing the Enterprise.  Suddenly a

huge solar flare leapt out at the Borg and the two humans

started backwards as the it exploded.

   "You ain't seen nuthin' yet." smiled Will.

   The reference was lost on Saieer, but Ryan grinned.

   Suddenly they were in a laboratory.  Starfleet officers were

dotted around the room, watching a ring of eight Haunu

mind-warriors as they took on the unimind.  Each was linked

to a psi-amplifier in the centre of the room.  A viewer on

the wall showed a Borg in leaving warp and closing in.

   Ryan found himself trying to link into the circle, to increase

the force.

   Suddenly Borg soldiers materialised around the circle. 

Redshirts fired, picked them off, one by one.  Until they

adapted.  Ignoring the phaser blasts, four remaining Borg stomped

towards the circle.  They reached out for the nearest Betazoid,

and froze.

   The view changed to that from a camera on top of a Nebula

class starship.  Ryan recognised the Riviera; his brother was in

there somewhere.  The Riviera lined up with the Borg, and fired

a volley of torpedoes.  The explosion lit up the Riviera's

deflectors.

   The mass of yellow and white faded to the Hood, floating

in the vast emptiness.

   "Computer, overlay transwarp distortion model." ordered Will.

   Pulsing red lines appeared on the screen, in the shape of

a slowly rotating tube.

   Ryan realised what he was looking at.

   "Transwarp Conduit."

   Far off to the right, the thin tube bulged where a Borg ship

hurtled through it.  The Hood's warp nacelles went bright white,

the red lines describing the conduit twisted and buckled until

the giant cube smashed into the disturbance.

   "Transwarp model off."

   The viewing angle changed again.  The USS Hood was still

there, and another Borg approached, crashing through the broken

conduit, the explosion spreading out like an ice cream cone.  Two

more Borg went the same way, and then the screen faded to a

scene that immediately reminded Ryan of Wolf 359.  He

realised it was more like Wolf 359 than Wolf 359 had ever

been.  Countless ships, Starfleet, Romulan, Klingon, Kzinti,

even Ferengi, attacking one cube.  It was nearly nine years

after 359, and with Romulan and Federation scientists

working together, torpedo technology had progressed to the

point where damage could be inflicted on a cube.  The ships

weaved around the Borg, dodging the dangerous cutting beams,

letting loose a volley of photons with each pass.  Each

torpedo shifted through the cubes shields and destroyed a

tiny portion of the Borg, until nothing was left.  Ryan

recognised the Sutherland, the Excalibur, the Goddard, the

Rutledge, the Phoenix, the Riviera, even the ancient

Hathaway.  Occasionally the Borg would hit a ship, and it

would career out of control.  The battle took only six

minutes, but watching it seemed to take hours.

   The Borg was finally rendered useless, and the surviving

ships turned and sped off to their respective bases.  The room

returned to normal, blank computer screens.

   "Impressive." said Ryan.  "But you missed the three that

started the invasion."

   Will looked down.

   "I didn't want to include it in my compilation."

   "Show me."

   The room dissolved around them, the Enterprise slid into view,

warping towards Earth.  Dwarfed by the planet, three enormous

Borg cubes were pumping fantastic amounts of energy into Earth's

defences.  The Enterprise let rip with countless torpedoes, two

from each firing point.  Each one cut through a Borg's shields

and took a tiny portion out of the cube, almost too small to see

on the massive view.  The Borg ceased fire on the planet, and

directed their weapons towards the Enterprise.  The Enterprise

speared itself on the powerful beam, and was gone.  The Borg blew

up a moment before.  The unseen sub-space hole ripping them into

oblivion.

   Will closed his eyes.

   Saieer stared straight ahead.

   Wellard looked away.

   A day of repairs had gone by, and the New Dawn was ready for

the next part of its mission.  In a blinding flash of light, it

leapt to warp 6, and was gone.

---

Author's note

Most of those battles were 'real', here are the sources I

used:

  The Best of Both Worlds II  - TNG

  Alliances                   - alt.startrek.creative

  Vendetta                    - Pocket Books

  Descent I & II Novelisation - Pocket Books

All of the above are totally excellent.

(Dunno who the authors are)

Part 4 will follow soon.

--

Tim Huckvale, Praxis, 20 Manvers Street, Bath, BA1 1PX, UK

The Software Engineering Company of Touche Ross Management Consultants

Tel: +44 (0)225 444 700   Fax: +44 (0)225 465 205   Email: tjh@praxis.co.uk

                      Any opinions expressed are mine

-- 

Tim H

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From: tjh@praxis.co.uk (Tim Huckvale)

Subject: THE NEW DAWN, Part 4

Message-ID: <1994Feb17.124134.16113@praxis.co.uk>

Organization: Praxis, Bath, U.K.

Date: Thu, 17 Feb 1994 12:41:34 GMT

Lines: 157

Here is the fourth part of The New Dawn.

If you miss a part, the story will be reposted in full after

the sixth part.

---

                   STAR TREK: THE NEW DAWN

                                          by Magnus Huckvale

   A day of repairs went by, and the New Dawn was ready for the

next part of its mission.  In a blinding flash of light, it leapt

to warp 6, and was gone.

Part 4

   "Cevenhort to Captain Wellard.  We are approaching the third

solar system, ETA 4 minutes."

   Ryan shifted his weight, and frowned at his counsellor.

   "Thank you Commander." he said to the air.  "Keep me posted."

   He lifted a tall, thin playing piece from the circular board

and moved it further towards the centre.  He noticed the time lag

between touching the piece and the hologram moving.  Holo-tables

were a new idea, and since development was stopped when the Borg

invaded, they were far from perfect.

   When the black piece in Wellard's hand touched the board, the

white pieces moved further out from the centre, except one, which

was larger than the rest, indicating it was the leader.

   Wellard leaned back.

   "Sarehat,  Suimar." he smiled.  "Or as we say in standard,

checkmate."

   Suimar stared at the table.

   "I can't believe you did that!  Your thoughts were focused on

moving the Govan.  That was incredible mind control, Ryan."

   "Hah, blame the Vulcans for that.  Two years with them meant I

won four thousand credits against a Betazoid, once.  It's

excellent self-control practice.  I should recommend it to

T'Saieer."

   "I can't see her playing Sebirt-owtmel.  What was it you

called it?"

   "Andorian chess."

   Suimar shook his head.  "Humans.  Another game?"

   "Cevenhort to Captain Wellard, no inhabitable planets.  We are

proceeding to system PBH3."

   "A possible Borg home system?  Any signs of life?"

   "We're not in scanning range yet Sir."

   "Keep me informed.  Wellard out."

   Cevenhort relaxed into the chair.  One of the benefits of

being first officer was that you got all the dangerous jobs, and

one of the problems was that you also got all the boring ones.

   Cevenhort watched the small sun on the screen grow slowly

larger.

   "Can we scan yet?"

   "Scanning range in one minute Commander."

   "Take us into orbit around the nearest planet.  Could it

really be the Borg homeworld?"  Cevenhort pondered.

   "I doubt it Sir, there are plenty of systems that had high

concentrations of Borg activity, although this was the third

highest.  We haven't scanned anything yet, and we know the

first cube won't be around for 8,000 years."

   "We shall find out soon."

   "Ready to enter orb..  Sir, we are picking up a vessel on an

intercept course, warp 8 equivalent."

   "Is it from any of the planets of PBH3?"

   "No Sir, it's from a totally different heading, the nearest

system on that heading is several hours away."

   "Thank you.  On screen when it's in range.  Captain to the

bridge.  Open hailing frequences."

   He glanced round to the comms station and received a nod.

   "Unidentified vessel, this is Commander Cevenhort of the

United Star Ship New Dawn.  Please identify yourself."

   The tiny dot of a ship on the main screen was replaced with a

pale-faced humanoid.

   "You have entered the Luan Empire and as such, are in

violation of the galactic treaty.  Turn back or we will destroy

you."

   "We don't know of any galactic treaty, and we have never heard

of the Luan Empire.  We come only in peace."

   "You are lying, Calieu scum!  Turn back now, or die."

   "Helm turn us about, reciprocal course at warp 4."  Cevenhort

turned back to the viewer.  "We are a peaceful organisation, we

do not wish you any harm."

   Just then, Captain Wellard appeared on the bridge.

   "You lie!  The Calieu has always provoked us into war."

   "We are not the Calieu," said Wellard.  "If we resemble the

Calieu, it is because of parallel evolution."

   "The Calieu is any race who is not Luan.  Calieu do not obey

God, or acknowledge his existence.  You did not greet us with the

symbol of God," - the alien referred to an intricate pattern on

his own bridge -  "so you are Calieu."

   "We have our own Gods," said Wellard.  "But we believe that

every race in the galaxy has the right to believe what they want

to believe."

   Even with his small telepathic ability, Wellard sensed the

alien's outrage and agression.

   "Other races are irrelevant!  There is only one race, and it

is the Luan.  You will join us, or you will die."

   The alien disappeared.

   Wellard didn't need telepathy to work out what was coming.  He

sat down in his chair.

   "Red alert, target engines with standard photons."

   The Luan ship entered firing range, and both vessels fired

their weapons.  The Luan concentrated their fire on a single

point on the New Dawn's engineering hull.  After a second

the shields gave way.  Then the Luan switched to a new

weapon.  It was a bright white laser.  Ineffective on

shields, it cut through the New Dawn's hull as if it were

paper.

   "My God...  Evasive action, pattern Delta 4.  I want

that ship scanned.  Status?"

   "Major damage to hull integrity, decks 38 through 45."

   "Aft Phasers!  Target firing points only."

   The New Dawn turned away from the Luan ship and fired.

   "Only minimal damage, Sir."

   The ship shook under another barrage of light.

   "Photon torpedoes, fire at will."

   A third shot from the Luan hit the New Dawn hard, the bridge

turned red.

   "Damage?  Ventral phasers inoperable.  Hull integrity lost

decks 11 to 26.  Warp drives operating at 11%."

   The Luan fired again, targeting the reactor coil.

   "Full reverse.  Fire all weapons.  Engineering!  Can you give

me five seconds of warp?"

   The reply came through - barely.

   "We might be able to manage two Sir, that last hit knocked out

the antimatter supply unit.  We only have what's left in the

system."

   "Then that'll have to do.  Helm, course 351 mark 030, warp

nine."

   "But Sir!  That's a collision course!"

   "Engage."

   The New Dawn leapt towards the Luan ship in a bright haze of

colour.

---

Watch out for the next part in a couple of days.

Magnus Huckvale

----------------------------------------------------------------------

"Few [people] appreciate fish-flavoured milk in tea."

              - the Sainsbury's "Living Today" guide to packaging

----------------------------------------------------------------------

--

posted by

Tim Huckvale, Praxis, 20 Manvers Street, Bath, BA1 1PX, UK

The Software Engineering Company of Touche Ross Management Consultants

Tel: +44 (0)225 444 700   Fax: +44 (0)225 465 205   Email: tjh@praxis.co.uk

                      Any opinions expressed are mine

-- 

Tim H

arachnophobia: fear of spiders

anarachnophobia: fear of train-spotters

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From: tjh@praxis.co.uk (Tim Huckvale)

Subject: THE NEW DAWN, Part 5

Message-ID: <1994Feb22.124054.1272@praxis.co.uk>

Organization: Praxis, Bath, U.K.

Date: Tue, 22 Feb 1994 12:40:54 GMT

Lines: 190

Here is the penultimate part of The New Dawn.

---

                   STAR TREK: THE NEW DAWN

                                        by Magnus Huckvale

   The New Dawn leapt towards the Luan ship in a bright haze of

colour.

Part 5

   The Luan Captain prepared to give the order to fire, when

suddenly, the Calieu ship split into two in front of him.  He

sensed trickery, the closer ship must he a hologram, he

decided.

   "Badjib, ta Calieu nawk!"  He gave the order to fire on the

ship behind.

   Oops.

   Wellard looked through the window of his office at the Luan

ship plummeting through the atmosphere.  Although they had

nearly destroyed him, he wished he could help them, but it was

all the New Dawn could do to hold orbit.  A few days of repairs,

and the research base would be set up on the planet below,

and maybe the future would be saved.

   Wellard sensed his first officer behind the door, moments

before the chime sounded.

   "Come."

   The door hissed open, allowing Wellard to sense Cevenhort's

feelings more clearly.

   "How long before the transporters are up?" he asked.

   "Lieutenant Kirshka says at least a day Sir.  The scientists

are ready to beam down, we'll get them down there as soon as we

can."

   Wellard nodded.

   "What about propulsion?"

   "Thrusters are at 85% now, Impulse should be up in about an

hour, and Warp an hour after that.  We'll have full weapons up

with the warp drive."

   "Good.  Thankyou Commander."

   In Main Engineering, the New Dawn's chief engineer approached

a young lieutenant.  Although the lieutenant had been

assimilated, and subsequently rescued, the chief engineer still

had enormous faith in his ability with warp engines.  The

engineer forced himself to look past the metal add-ons, to see

the human inside.

   "Lieutenant Crusher, have you finished re-aligning the PTC

interceptor?"

   "Yes Sir, it should work even better now, I redirected the

power flow round through here."  A dark metal hand indicated a

component.

   "Good work Wes.  You'd better start it up."

   "Yes Sir."  Crusher tapped in an initiation sequence, and

the computer reeled off a countdown.

   "5.  4.  3.  2.  1."

   The explosion shook the whole ship, knocking Wellard off his

feet.  He jumped up and ran to the door, when it didn't open he

returned to his desk to get his phaser.  He opened the drawer and

grabbed the weapon.

   Then he noticed the view from the window.

   The stars were spinning, every second or so the planet below

flew past.  More shocking to Wellard, was the empty space where

the aft end of the ship should have been.

   He leaned heavily on the desk, concentrating on keeping his

mind from falling apart.  It was then he noticed the psychic

pressure from nine hundred other minds was gone.  

   Collapsing into his chair, he buried his head in his hands.

   "RYAN!"  Ryan's head was jerked up as someone shook his

shoulders.  He looked up to see his brother's face, bathed in an

eerie light.  This time Frank spoke directly into Ryan's numbed

mind.

   - Don't give in Ryan. -

   Ryan saw Frank's body, poking through the table, and didn't

believe in it.  He didn't believe in ghosts.  He didn't believe

in what his own eyes were telling him.  He didn't believe in

himself.  Anymore.  He looked up into Frank's eyes.

   - Don't give in Ryan. -

   Ryan looked down again.

   "Don't give in."  Suddenly Frank's voice had a strange,

metal, edge, and Ryan looked up into a different pair of eyes. 

They were the same eyes, but... lifeless, cold.  Black metal

slithered around Frank's body, and he reached out for Ryan.

   Ryan pushed back, and banged against the window behind him. 

He looked behind the Borg into the shadows, where what light

there was glinted off something metal.  Suddenly the room was

filled with Borg soldiers.

   They spoke as one, through his ears, and through his mind.

   - Your race is over, Ryan.  Become one with the Borg. -

   He realised he was still holding the phaser, and raised it to

point at Frank's head.

   - You cannot kill your brother, Ryan. -

   His finger hovered over the trigger.

   "My brother is already dead!  You killed him.  NOW GET OUT

OF MY MIND!"

   The room was filled with bright, scorching light.  When the

light subsided, the Borg was gone.

   Ryan notched the phaser up to level 10, and vapourised the

door.

   "What the hell happened?" he shouted, bursting on to the

smoke-filled bridge, and glaring at the first person he found.

   Ryan recognised Ensign Redwood, the young man had blood oozing

from a cut on his forearm.  His uniform was burnt and blackened.

   "No response from engineering, Sir."

   "There is no engineering.  Maxell, get these computers back on

line."

   A blood-stained Ensign was already under the engineering

station on the bridge.

   "I'm trying Sir, the main data line has melted, I should be

able to switch..."  The computer screen lit up.

   "Well done."  Wellard called up a damage report.  He couldn't

believe his eyes.

   "There must have been a containment breach, we've totally lost

the aft end of the ship."

   "That's not all, Sir." the Ensign was holding a padd.  He

looked from the Captain to Redwood and the two Lieutenants who

were on the bridge.  He continued.  "According this, explosive

decompression has hit almost all of the ship.  We could be the

only survivors."

   "We have to make sure, Lieutenant Hewlett, scan the rest of

the ship for life."

   "Aye, sir."  Hewlett grimly took a tricorder from a drawer,

and touched a few buttons.

   "No life signs Sir."

   Wellard closed his eyes.

   Maxell looked away, his eyes happened to fall on the

engineering panel.

   "Oh *SHIT*.  The blast knocked us out of orbit Sir, the ship's

burning up.  Hull temperature is already critical."

   "I never thought I'd have to say this, but we have to abandon

ship.  Try the log buoy."

   Hewlett turned to the engineering panel and shook his head.

   "We already lost it Sir."

   Two small lifeboats slipped out of the remains of the New

Dawn, and started towards the planet.  Wellard watched his ship

burn up, until the rotation of the lifeboat swung it out of

sight.

   A few hundred miles from where the lifeboats landed, a large

crate splashed into the sea.  Having just survived the

destruction of its carrier ship, all but one of its systems were

working, including the IDF system which lowered the crate's mass

sufficiently for it to float.  The failed system was often

referred to as the 'stasis field'.

   The two lifeboats were lodged in the branches of trees near a

small camp.  Three small tents surrounded a pile of red-hot

rocks.

   Five humans sat around it, in silence.  One of them

munched on a small ration pack of 'Biscuits, Brown'.  They

each contemplated life, and death.  They all knew they would

never see home again.

   Ensign Redwood knew, although he still asked.

   "Will we ever get off this planet, Captain?"

   Wellard brushed his hands over his face, and answered.

   "No."

   Redwood was young, he hadn't even considered death.  Even this

mission, more distant from Starfleet Command than every other

starship had ever been, had not caused him to contemplate the

real Final Frontier.

   "No rescue mission, no way to call one." said Maxell.  "We

could start the human race again, but..."

   He waved his hand at the four other males.

   Hewlett gave a nervous laugh.

   "Picard manouevre.  Thawas good, Cap."

   Wellard nodded.

   "Didn't help us though, did it?"

   The large crate followed the tide towards the land, and came

aground on a beautiful yellow beach.  The crate's lid slowly

opened, releasing gases into the pure, unpolluted air.  A dark,

metallic hand grasped the edge, and a head appeared.  It surveyed

its surroundings with a cold, red, laser eye.

---

Watch out for the final part in a couple of days.

-- posted by:

Tim Huckvale, Praxis, 20 Manvers Street, Bath, BA1 1PX, UK

The Software Engineering Company of Touche Ross Management Consultants

Tel: +44 (0)225 444 700   Fax: +44 (0)225 465 205   Email: tjh@praxis.co.uk

                      Any opinions expressed are mine

-- 

Tim H

"It's process modelling, Jim, but not as we know it."

(Dr McCoy's verdict on planet DFD)

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From: tjh@praxis.co.uk (Tim Huckvale)

Subject: THE NEW DAWN, Part 6

Message-ID: <1994Feb24.133045.5296@praxis.co.uk>

Organization: Praxis, Bath, U.K.

Date: Thu, 24 Feb 1994 13:30:45 GMT

Lines: 273

And now, the final installment of...

---

                   STAR TREK: THE NEW DAWN

                                       by Magnus Huckvale

   The crate's lid slowly opened, releasing gases into the

pure, unpolluted air.  A dark, metallic hand grasped the

edge, and a head appeared.  It surveyed its surroundings

with a cold, red, laser eye.

Part 6

   

   Wellard was up at dawn, but let his companions sleep in. 

He was returning to the camp with a plastic water-carrying

bag sloshing over one shoulder.  The others were just waking

up.  He chucked his tricorder down by Hewlett's sleeping bag

and hung the water-carrier over the lifeboat door hinge.

   He glanced over at a bleary-eyed Ensign Redwood.

   "Robert, grab a phaser and heat up the rocks, it's

oatmeal for breakfast."

   "Yessir."

   The Ensign un-zipped his bag and clambered over to the

lifeboat.

   Wellard waved at him dismissively.

   "For the moment, let's stick to first names shall we?  We

can't spend the rest of our natural lives together calling

each other 'Captain' or 'Ensign'."

   "Ok.. Ryan."  This would take some getting used to,

thought Robbie, taking a phaser from the lifeboat.  He

flicked it to setting 5 and aimed at the rocks.

   Up to a few years ago, a Borg separated from the

collective would instantly commit suicide.  This program was

modified after a group of Borg soldiers broke away from the

collective under the guidance of Hugh, a Borg who was

separated from the uni-mind and brainwashed by inferior

biological lifeforms into destroying the collective.

   Now a separated Borg would be compelled to rejoin the

uni-mind, and to use all the resources at its disposal.

   The collective destroyed Hugh, but the experience changed

the uni-mind.  They learnt from the tactics used by Hugh and

another rebel named Lore.

   The Borg no longer stormed through space demolishing

anything which stood in its path.  Now the Borg conquered

the galaxy a piece at a time.

   They no longer stood still in battle, relentlessly firing

on their enemy, each destroyed soldier replaced by another,

until they finally inevitably won.  Now they took up

defensive positions, they hid, they ducked, they ran.

   Their main objective had changed.

   Now they were more concerned with destruction than

assimilation.

   For one thing, they were better at it.

   Eighteen Borg soldiers stood on the sand.  They had been

unsure of their purpose until now.  They had woken up on

this strange planet shortly before dusk, the collective of

the eighteen soldiers hadn't known what to do.  They were

separated from the uni-mind and had to think for themselves.

   The night had brought enlightenment, and the

enlightenment led to confusion.  The confusion was soon

dispelled, making way for purpose.

   Robbie Redwood finished his mouthful, and asked the

question that had been bugging him all morning.

   "What will happen when we don't turn up with the weapon

by Stardate 53000?"

   Wellard looked at the inquisitive young Ensign.

   "Starfleet will wait for a few months, doing their best

to fend off the Borg, and then they'll send another ship

back, to a different planet, to try again.  If the whole

fleet hasn't been destroyed by then."

   "So what do we do?"  Redwood persisted.

   "We grow old, we die."

   "Oh."

   "Don't give up yet."

   Wellard looked across to Hewlett.

   "What did the scans of this planet come up with?"

   Hewlett leaned back into a tree, and tried to remember as

much of the survey report as he could.

   "Class M, verging on class N - it's 24% water.  Diameter

11000km, atmosphere slightly more Oxygen-rich than Earth. 

Large numbers of animals, but no signs of intelligent life." 

Hewlett picked up Wellard's discarded tricorder and waved it

around, checking what he just said.

   "Hey!  That other ship, it went down less than 50k's

south of here.  As far as I can tell from this readout, the

structure's almost intact."

   Wellard sat up and took interest.

   "Any life?"

   Hewlett shook his head.

   "No, but the power core's intact, that's the only reason

I noticed it."

   Wellard stood up, having reached a conclusion.

   "Right.  We pack our bags.  We've got a long walk ahead."

   Eighteen Borg soldiers relentlessly marched through the

jungle.  The dense foliage slowed them down, but they were

undaunted.  Their collective was focused on a goal, and that

was all they were concer...  Suddenly the situation changed,

the collective had expanded, doubled in size.  These new

arrivals instantly knew where they were, and what they had

to do.  They were a great distance from their target, but

they immediately started their journey.

   The five humans stared into the night sky.  The stars had

been used for navigation for hundreds of years, first by

planet-bound sailors, and later by super-computers able to

compute a ship's position in the galaxy in a matter of

seconds.

   "Somewhere out there.."  Ryan started, "there's a

thousand civilisations.  Most of them believe they're the

only intelligent life in the universe, so naive, they can't

know what's coming to them.  Machines, electricity,

computers, space-travel."

   "Assimilation." said Gary Hewlett, flatly.

   "Assimilation." repeated Ryan.  "They don't even know. 

They won't know, until it's too late."

   The ship rocked beneath Ryan.  He felt the shockwaves

from the hit travel up through the mighty starship's

super-structure.  He looked to his Captain, calmly sat in

his chair.  The ship bucked again.

   Someone yelled from behind him.

   "Shields down to 15%!"

   Ryan yanked his head round to see who spoke, but the

Vulcan Lieutenant manning tactical was staring intently at

the display, scouring the ship for trouble, but not seeing

any.

   The bridge was lit up by the viewscreen, the dark depths

of space replaced by a grey cube.

   Ryan shouted at the Ensign at the helm.  He was studying

his fingernails, occasionally picking at one.

   "Evasive action!  Pattern Delta 4!"  But no sound left

his mouth.  He clutched at his throat and tried to stand up,

but an invisible force pushed him down.  He was trying to

scream, trying to yell.

   "Fire photon torpedoes!  Antimatter spread!"

   Ryan recognised Captain Yigorran's voice, but the captain

was still calm, ignoring the events surrounding him.

   Ryan broke free of the chair, and stumbled over to the

helm.  He tried to engage warp drive, but the controls had

changed.  The Ensign seemed mildly surprised, and turned to

look at Ryan, who suddenly noticed the blue metal eating at

the Ensign's face.

   Ryan backed away, towards the main viewer.  The Borg cube

had mysteriously vanished, and he saw nothing but stars.

   He put out a hand to lean on the viewscreen, but it

failed to connect, and Ryan was tumbling head over heels

through space, gasping for oxygen.  He watched the New Dawn

float away, he was falling...

   Gary Hewlett was up ahead of the others, and was the

first to see it.  Twenty metres or so in front of him, the

trees just stopped, and the sight spurred him on to the

edge.

   "I think we found the spaceship." he called back.

   Gary looked across a giant canyon.  At one end, the

enormous starship that had created it lay blackened and

smoldering in the jungle.

   That night they camped in a cargo bay.  The hull had been

ripped open by the impact, making entering the starship

easy.

   Redwood and Lieutenant Asinfir returned from exploring

the wreckage, their tricorders still happily beeping away.

   "What have you found?" Ryan asked.

   Asinfir, normally a quiet individual, spoke up.

   "Dead aliens, mostly.  This ship is quite advanced,

nearly as large as the galaxy class, slightly slower, but

with more powerful beam weapons.   The main difference is

that it can land - or crash-land - on planets."

   Hewlett nodded.

   "We found that it was rigged for a long flight.  Large

fuel reserves and supplies."

   "So we can't expect a rescue mission for a while." sighed

Wellard.

   "Nope." replied Maxell.  "I was monitoring comms when we

encountered it, and no subspace or radio message was sent."

   "Did you find a shuttle bay?"

   "Yep, what was left of it." said Hewlett.  "They built it

at the front, so it took the impact of the crash.  Some of

the shuttles at the rear look undamaged, but the bay doors

are crushed."

   "That's what setting 16's for." said Maxell.  "Some of

their shuttles looked more like fighters, I'd like to take

them up one day."

   Wellard nodded.  "Maybe we will get off this planet.  Any

sign of transporter technology?"

   The others shook their heads.

   "Maybe we just didn't find it, transporter rooms are

small, and we stuck to larger rooms mainly." said Redwood.

   "Let's get some sleep now." said Wellard.  "We'll explore

the possibility of getting a shuttle up tommorow."

   "Destroy."  Said the small uni-mind.

   The Borg moved as one, moving away from the lifeboats. 

Two soldiers turned, and fired.

   Now the uni-mind knew there were biological lifeforms

about.

   Only five, judging by the impressions in the ground.

   Five humans were irrelevant.

   They would become one with the Borg.

   Or they would be destroyed.

   The uni-mind was unsure how they could be joined with the

Borg.  There were no facilities to join them with the Borg.

   But there would be.  Every Borg knew the origins of their

species.  How 108 Borg soldiers had fallen from space, and

become one, and built up a mighty civilisation.

   The uni-mind had been unsure where they had been before

falling.  The concept that they had been put there by

inferior biological lifeforms was..  Implausable.  

   Ryan recognised Alito 4.  The stark, rocky landscape,

lifeless.  People rushed past him.  Civilians.  Women,

children.  Somewhere his wife and daughter were in this

mess, running away from their homes, running away from the

terror that had invaded the small colony.

   Ryan knew the nearest starship was light-years away.  He

was in the Captain's chair, in charge, but not in time. 

Sometimes even warp nine wasn't fast enough.

   He heard his wife screaming, and tried to move towards

the sound.  Pushing against the tide of frightened,

stampeding colonists.  He saw his wife.  He saw the Borg

behind her.  He fought to get to her, but couldn't. 

Suddenly she froze, her back arched with the force of the

energy bolt striking her, then she was nothing but dust.

   "NOOOOOOOOOOO!"

   The Borg who had fired the shot looked at him, almost

surprised that Ryan had shouted.  The Borg couldn't

comprehend that Ryan was angry, that he felt helpless.  Ryan

rushed towards the Borg, the torrent of fleeing civilians

had ebbed away.  It was just him and the Borg soldier.

   He leaped for its throat, knocking it down.  Borg and

human rolled on the ground, until machine ended up on top. 

Ryan was suddenly weak, unable to fight.  The few seconds

the Borg invested in squeezing the life out of Ryan seemed

like years, as Ryan slowly slipped away.

   And sat bolt upright.  He cursed the dream-free sleep

inducer, it was destroyed, along with his ship.

   Something pushed him back into his makeshift bed.

   Something cold.

   Something hard.

   Something with lifeless eyes.

   This time it wasn't a dream.

   This time he wouldn't wake up.

   His scream was cut off in the middle, as was his throat.

---

   I hope you enjoyed it.  I have an idea for a sequel, but

GCSE's and stuff keep me very busy.

   If you missed an installment, all six will be reposted

in a couple of days.  With the repost will be a trailer for

another new story which I am in the process of finishing.

   It introduces a new set of characters in an organisation

only hinted at in the series and (to my knowledge) never 

detailed in fanfic - Starfleet Secret Service.

Magnus Huckvale

--posted by

Tim Huckvale, Praxis, 20 Manvers Street, Bath, BA1 1PX, UK

The Software Engineering Company of Touche Ross Management Consultants

Tel: +44 (0)225 444 700   Fax: +44 (0)225 465 205   Email: tjh@praxis.co.uk

                      Any opinions expressed are mine

-- 

Tim H

"It's process modelling, Jim, but not as we know it."

(Dr McCoy's verdict on planet DFD)