I've always preferred the original show and the earlier movies to the later movies and the modern-day shows; the newer shows seem so sterile and ignorant of everything that made Kirk and company so exciting and interesting. The basic mentality of TNG and its spawn seems to be, "Well, if we avoid the fistfights and avoid having characters fall into bed together, then we'll be better than the original", when in fact the fistfights and romances were not at all a part of the core (good or bad) of the show. Basically, the creators of TNG believed that avoiding the dumbest parts of Trek Classic would make it a superior product, but it also scrupulously avoided all the best facets of the original.

This viewpoint made me a somewhat unpopular fellow on rec.arts.startrek; I was essentially the only detractor of the show who regularly posted - and for that matter vehemently posted - my displeasure with where Star Trek had gone. Eventually, TNG passed its high point and fell into three seasons of mediocre-to-awful episodes. Deep Space Nine came along and to my mind flopped completely. And finally I decided to opt out of Trek fandom after Star Trek: Generations, thus avoiding the current Voyager series altogether.

However, during my period of activity on r.a.s, I hatched the idea of writing a series of short stories with an eye toward deconstructing the current Trek universe and trying to capture what I really liked about Trek. I started by moving the time frame forward another century, and set the action on an altogether new Enterprise, with a new set of characters. From there, the thing - which eventually gained the appellation Federation Declining - developed a life of its own. However, as my interest in Trek waned, my commitment to turning out any of these stories also fell by the wayside.

What I'm presenting here are all the artifacts and detritus of FD, including the writer's guide (with character outlines, history, and technological background), as well as three story fragments I'd written. Anyone who's played the wargame Star Fleet Battles will notice little pieces here and there which were influenced by that game and its own Trek timeline.

There's still a lot I like in what I generated of FD, and I sometimes think of adapting it to a new environment. My friend James S----- has been encouraging me to do just that, of late. Maybe I will... but not for a while. I have other fish to fry.

Note: Most of what follows from here is the FD material I wrote years ago. Paragraphs indented with ">"s are my present-day (June 1995) comments on the older stuff.

1. Captain Vysoc: Vulcan (1/8 human, though he is unaware of this himself). Aged 42, his parents were killed in the Galactic War when he was an infant (thus his ignorance about his lineage). A strong, though fairly approachable, Vulcan, he has a lot of hidden pride in his ship and crew, and does not suffer fools gladly. He has been commanding the Enterprise for three years.
2. Executive Officer Commander Jessica Larkin: An intense woman with a "take-charge" attitude. She was about to take command her own ship when it was damaged beyond repair. Assigned (due to a lack of available commands) to the Enterprise as exec, she harbors a great deal of resentment against her superior officers. She is dark and mysterious (reminiscent of Pike's "Number One"), excellent at thinking on her feet, and is well versed in protocol, public relations and ship design.
3. Chief Engineer Commander Linh Zhang: A short oriental woman.
4. Science Officer Lieutenant Commander Jeremiah Butler: A huge, bearded, powerful black man with a decidedly intellectual bent. Something of a philosopher.
5. Security Chief Lieutenant Commander Chrillen Amolto Tyzin: A small, plucky, male Andorian. Good friends with Head Physician Zale.

6. Head Physician Lieutenant Commander Dr. Harris Zale: A jovial black man, who drinks frequently (though not excessively). Good friends with the Security Chief.
7. Technician Lieutenant Commander Martin Sand: A gruff middle-aged man of American descent, once retired from Starfleet already. Often acts more like a civilian than an officer, and owns a big tabby cat which Starfleet grudgingly lets him keep on the ship to secure his highly competent services.
8. Helmsman Lieutenant Marianne Wilson: An unobtrusive female android, lacking the humanity (save in appearance, in which she is superior) of Commander Data. She is nevertheless one of the most advanced of her kind (Delta-Cycle 3.13 Androids). Extremely curious and thorough, though not as annoyingly compulsive as Data.
9. Ship's Services Operator Lieutenant Siobhan McGee: Responsible for weapons and ship's status, and competent in navigation. A bit flighty, and a counterpoint to Wilson in a sense.

Year	Stardate	Event
2100	000000.0	12:00:01 am, 1 January: Beginning of Stardating system
2228	128???.?	James T. Kirk born?
2250	149833.7	"The Cage"
2263	141076.3	Star Trek begins
2263	143012.4	"The Menagerie"
2265	143???.?	"Journey To Babel"
2265	143141.9	"Space Seed"
2268	146079.5	Star Trek ends
2271	148413.4	Star Trek: The Motion Picture
2281	158130.3	Star Trek II: The Wrath Of Khan
2281	158210.3	Star Trek III: The Search For Spock
2281	158390		Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home
2281	158454.1	Star Trek V: The Final Frontier
2292	169276.5	Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country
2341	221000		Klingon/Federation war averted, thanks to Enterprise 
			1701-C; Klingon/Federation treaty signed
2363	241100		Star Trek: The Next Generation begins
2365	243???.?	"Sarek"
2382	260072		Star Trek: The Next Generation ends when remaning 
			Galaxy class ships are decommissioned
2396	274821		Interstellar Depression begins
2415	293216.5	Galactic War begins
2424	301798.9	Klingon/Federation alliance dissolved
2429	307084.0	Galactic War ends
2461	339047.6	"Federation Declining" begins
2794	472146.8	Post-Federation period

• 1000 stardates = 1 Earth year = 365.25 Earth days
• 1 stardate = 8.766 hours
• 1 Earth day = 2.7379 stardates

By 2382, the Federation's economy was nearing the bottom of its downward spin, largely the product of a government which tried to do too much for its citizens (as well as some non-citizens), which had expanded too aggressively (albeit peacefully), and which had controlled its markets too strictly.

Starfleet felt this crunch no less severely than other government institutions, and this resulted in the decommission of its pride: The Galaxy class of vessels, which had become too expensive to maintain. Deprived of what had become the backbone of its defense plan, Starfleet went to the drawing boards to produce a number of new classes, smaller, more efficient, but no less effective. These classes, which included the Regard class battlecruisers, the Lexington class heavy cruisers, and eventually the Drake class destroyers were remarkably enduring.

Fourteen years later, the Interstellar Depression hit the Federation (rippling out to neighboring nations within years). The depression proved to have remarkable staying power, largely (it was believed) due to the magnitude of space which was depressed. For a time, the inner Federation was known as an "economic black hole".

The Galactic War broke out in 2415 as a result of a Gorn/Cardassian dispute that the Federation tried too hard to "mediate". The three-way war soon escalated when the Romulans attacked the Federation, sensing an opening. The Klingons aided the Federation, but soon found themselves under pressure from the Sggov, a powerful race first encountered during the war by the Federation and Klingon exploratory ships. Federation refusal (in the face of a three-front war) to help the Klingons resulted in the long-standing Federation-Klingon treaty being terminated.

The war ground to a halt after a devastating strike against the Romulans (the last such joint Federation-Klingon effort on record). The Sggov and Klingons build up massive defenses against one another, while the Cardassian-Gorn-Federation triangle simply wore itself out through mutual attrition, with a peace treaty being signed in 2429.

(The First Federation, Tholians, Ferengi and Talarians never participated in the war, aside from a few probes by the last into Cardassian space and the usual cutthroat trading schemes of the Ferengi.)

The war had vastly improved Federation economic fortunes, at the cost of a certain optimism compared by more than one historian to a human childhood. In its wake, the public put pressure on the government to rebuild with an emphasis on defense and security. The President at the time was unusually visionary for the 25th century, and also had an eye on exploration, tempered by a gentler form of expansion than had existed previously. His policies endured past his tenure and helped Starfleet focus its energies toward vessels of balanced capabilities, such as the Defiant class.

Nevertheless, it is generally recognized that the Federation has lost the starry visions which guided it though its earlier existence, and many believe that such beliefs are impossible to maintain in reality forever. The question, though, is: What will the Federation become, in this bold new era?

History Of The Ship Name Enterprise In Starfleet

CA	NCC 1701	Constitution Class, 123316-158284  (35 years)
			Destroyed by Captain in battle with Klingon ship
CA	NCC 1701-A	Constitution Class, 158952-?
			Decommissioned as last active ship of its class
CA	NCC 1701-B	Excelsior Class, ?-?
BC	NCC 1701-C	Patton Class, 190316-221362  (31 years)
			Destroyed by Romulans
DN	NCC 1701-D	Galaxy Class, 240533-260072  (20 years)
			Decommissioned with rest of its class
BC	NCC 1701-E	Regard Class, 262820-285319
CA	NCC 1701-F	Lexington Class, 288452-297612  (9 years)
			Defected to Romulans, disgraced
DD	NCC 801		Drake Class  298457-305326  (7 years)
			Destroyed by Klingons
CL	NCC 2601	Lexington Class, 309032-329906  (20 years)
CA	NCC 2801	Defiant Class, 334416-present  (4.5+ years)
			Still in service

FF: Revere Class (NCC 9xx)
Commissioned Ships (286 total):
Classified as FF 303942-present
Specifications:

Crew 230
Maximum Warp: T9
Designed as an attrition unit for the end of the Galactic War, the Revere class frigate is fast, maneuverable and packs a large punch. In addition, as an attrition unit, it is cheap and easy to construct. Unfortunately, it doesn't stand up well to direct hits from enemy ships. Worsening economic conditions have kept this class viable in the eyes of Federation bureaucrats.

DD: Drake Class (NCC 8xx)
Commissioned Ships (172 total):
Classified as DD 289732-present
Specifications:

Crew 300
Maximum Warp: T9
A veteran of the Galactic War, the Drake class has proven to be both an excellent destroyer design, one which has weathered the years well. It is in the process of being phased out in favor of the new Wellington class, though tight budgets will probably keep it on-line for some years to come.

DD: Wellington Class (NCC 9xx)
Commissioned Ships (16 total):
Classified as DD 335187-present
Specifications:

Crew 320
Maximum Warp: T9
Designed to support the new Defiant class heavy cruisers, the Wellington class is somewhat more balanced between civil and military tasks, a sort of cruiser/destroyer/tug rolled into one. It has been carrying out its peacetime missions adequately, though time will tell how it behaves in combat.

CL: Lexington Class (NCC 26xx)
Commissioned Ships (57 total):
Classified as CA 268529-307322, CL 307322-present
Specifications:

Crew 450
Maximum Warp: T9
A truly ancient class, originally a Heavy Cruiser, the Lexington ships were downgraded to Light Cruisers after the Galactic War. The Lexington class has proven to be a sad symbol of the decline of the Federation, as Starfleet has been consistently unable to construct a viable replacement for this class. (Irononically, the endurance of this class' predecessor, the Excelsior class, was regarded as a Federation triumph.) Efforts eventually turned to designing a destroyer (the Wellington class), rather than a new light cruiser, to support the new Defiant heavy cruisers.

CA: Defiant Class (NCC 28xx)
Commissioned Ships (20 total): Enterprise (2801)
Classified as CA 333872-present
Specifications:

Crew 620
Maximum Warp: T10
The newest class in Starfleet, the Defiant class was so named as a morale boost for those who felt Starfleet no longer had what it took to effectively handle the Federation's adversaries. The design is a strong one, as close to the ideal balance of warship and workhorse as Starfleet has ever fielded.

BC: Columbia Class (NCC 27xx)
Commissioned Ships (9 total):
Classified as BC 319586-present
Specifications:

Crew 770
Maximum Warp: T11
A post-war battlecruiser designed to guard the borders against major incursions from Federation adversaries. The Columbia class wields heavy weaponry, and a lot of it. Most fleets are led by a Columbia class ship commanded by a Commodore.

TR: LaGrange Class (NCC 33xx)
Commissioned Ships (28 total):
Classified as TG 311385-present
Specifications:

Crew 240
Maximum Warp: T7
A typical fleet tug, used to transport supplies to the borders and to colonies.

Technology

Androids

After several abortive attempts at artificial life (we saw some very early examples in the TNG episodes "The Offspring", and "The Quality Of Life"), Federation scientists finally "got it right", or nearly so. Data was an integral part of the team which developed the Delta-Cycle androids. These androids, like Data, lacked the full range of human emotions, but were sentient. Moreover, most of them showed some signs of possessing some emotions, though this varied greatly across individuals. (Attempts at fusing this work with the Multitronics work of Dr. Richard Daystrom proved disastrous, as highlighted by the Lemming Tragedy.)

This success touched off the long-anticipated battle over android rights (which had until then been regarded as moot since Data was the only functioning android under Federation jurisdiction). The battle culminated in two important actions: A court decision that Data and Delta-Cycle androids did indeed possess full rights accorded sentients, and a law which required permits to build any android more advanced than the Beta-Cycle.

Nonetheless, several thousand such androids exist in the Federation, many of them in Starfleet. Strangely, none of the Federation's neighbors has, to Starfleet's knowledge, begun producing androids. In the case of some races, it seems apparent that they disdain artifical life. Why the technophilic Romulans or devil-may-care Cardassians have not done so, though each has surely developed the appropriate technology by this time, remains the subject of speculation.

Cloaking Devices

Starfleet does possess cloaking technology, and uses it occasionally. It is not too unusual for a frigate or destroyer to be equipped with a cloaking device. It is generally considered too costly in terms of energy for a battlecruiser to use one.

Starfleet's device is not as efficient as that or the Romulans', since Starfleet has concentrated more on its shield technology. The Klingons have divided their research between the cloak and offensive weaponry, leaving them in the middle. No other race has the cloaking device. (The Cardassians seem content to walk loudly but carry bigger sticks.)

The Fugue

A development which sprung out of research of Betazoid telepathy, the Fugue is a sort of galactic mind-touch. The technology is simple and inexpensive, involving amplifying brainwaves and casting them into subspace.

However, only races with natural leaning toward telepathy (Betazoids, Vulcans, etc.) are able to control the experience with much accuracy. Most other races often experience vague, dream-like imagery with the occasional moment of lucidity.

The Fugue is popular in the Federation as an entertainment form: Hooking up to a Fugueset (essentially some lightweight headgear), and drifting into the morass of voices and images can yield an interesting conversation (or fragment thereof) with someone never before encountered, or perhaps some useful or exciting stray thought. Fugue contact with alien races is not unusual

An early Starfleet worry has proven to be groundless: The thoughts of a person undergoing Fugue do not escape unless he or she wills them to. Moreover, should a non-telepath attempt to betray the Federation by broadcasting information via Fugue, it is unlikely that the thoughts would reach their destination. It is virtually impossible to direct thoughts to a particular destination. The Fugue also does not seem to be any more addictive than a video game in the normal case.

Just in case, though, the Fugue is usually barred from high-security areas. Fugue blockers are available to nullify Fuguesets in a given area, if deemed necessary. The Federation has found monitoring the Fugue for intelligence purposes to not be worth the effort. The Fugue is simply too big. The Fugue has also not shown any potential as a weapon.

A minor cult has sprung up around the Fugue which believes that the Fugue unleashes unused abilities in the human(oid) brain, and that the images in the Fugue can sometimes be precognitive in nature, or otherwise abnormal. No evidence supporting or denying this claim has been found.

The Fugue is widely used in Federation space and many crewmembers have their own Fuguesets. The Romulans, Cardassians, First Federation, Gorn, and Sggov are also known to use the Fugue.

Holochambers

No starship contains a holochamber (i.e., holodeck). They're too expensive to maintain on anything smaller than a dreadnought, and such ships in the 25th century have no military or exploratory function to justify such an expense. Many starbases do, as do quite a few planets.

Captain's Log, Stardate 45688.3: The Enterprise has arrived at the Theta Trianguli IV star system as we follow what we believe to be the migration of a long dead starfaring race in this region. As we approached the system, though, sensors detected a strange phenomenon manifesting itself between the fourth and fifth orbital regions. Long range scans suggested that it was a field of negative energy, a "hole" in space. The Enterprise has postponed its assigned mission to investigate this rare event.

Captain Jean-Luc Picard leaned over his science officer, Lieutenant Commander Data, as the latter examined a stream of information scrolling down the screen in front of him. Data's cat-green android eyes flicked back and forth at a startling rate. Before Picard could even pose his question, Data spoke.

"As yet I have been unable to determine anything new about the hole, Captain," said Data. "The negative energy has continued to accrue since we first detected it, but the field seems to be having negligible effect on the matter and energy surrounding it, except on some of the light particles."

Picard frowned, and then turned to face his chief of security. "How far are we from the field, Mr. Worf?"

The Klingon, standing rigid as always, inclined his head toward the panel before him and reported, "One million kilometers, sir."

"Helm," Picard raised his voice, "bring us within one hundred thousand kilometers and then to a full stop."

"Aye, sir," responded the ensign at the front of the bridge.

The U.S.S. Enterprise, registry number NCC-1701-D, and flagship of the United Federation of Planets' Starfleet, glided toward the field before it and slowly came to a stop. Picard walked down the ramp from the science station at the rear of the bridge and sat in the command chair at the center of the room. The young, bearded man at his right turned toward him. "I don't know what to make of it, Captain."

Picard leaned forward to stare at the large viewscreen ahead of him and rubbed his chin. "Nor do I, Number One." He sat back. "I'm not sure whether I should be irritated at the delay to our next archaeological survey, or overjoyed to have had the fortune to have encountered this event."

Commander William Riker, second in command of the Enterprise, grinned. "It is something of a mixed bag, isn't it, sir? Well, with any luck we'll have time to accomplish both --"

Riker didn't have the chance to finish his sentence, for Data's usually restrained voice cut through the other noises on the bridge. "Captain, the field's strength has started rising faster. Increase now bordering on a geometric progression."

"What?" Picard stood up and began to walk back toward Data when the navigator spoke up. "Captain, the ship's started moving away from the field. It's pushing us back!"

Picard glared at the screen. A small white light was visible in the center of it, swiftly growing. "Full reverse. Stand by to jump to warp speed on my signal."

As the ship began accelerating away from the field, Data announced, "Negative energy accumulation off our scales, sir. Field will reach maximum theoretical strength in ten-point-six seconds."

The light in the field grew ever brighter as the field receded on the screen. "Recommendations, gentlemen," stated Picard.

"I suggest we raise the shields, sir," responded Worf.

"Agreed. Make it so, and and go to yellow alert."

The light continued to brighten on the screen until all people on the bridge save Data had to shield their eyes. Then, with one last burst of light, it was all over. Light and hole had both vanished.

"Full stop," ordered Picard. The helmsman responded and the ship again ground to a halt. Picard turned. "Mister Data."

Data turned to his console. "Force, light and negative energy from the spot where the hole existed all read zero. However..." he paused and pressed some buttons to call up additional displays. He turned to Picard. "A small deposit of matter now exists in place of the hole. It reads as metallic."

Picard turned back to the screen, on which only the starfield beyond the system was now visible. "Full magnification." The view changed, and the metallic object data had detected was now visible.

Riker stood up slowly. "What the hell...? That's a starship!"

"It's more than that, Number One," said Picard. "Look at it: The disc at its front, the nacelles at the back. That's a Federation ship."

"There is no record of any ship of that type in Starfleet history," said Data.

"I'm well aware of that, Mister Data," said Picard. "Nevertheless, there it is." Silence filled the bridge for a moment, and then Picard said, "Ahead one half impulse power. Keep the shields up until we know what we're dealing with. Mister Data, do the sensors detect any energy readings from the ship?"

"No... yes. The ship has just powered up. It's raised its shields. Energy output is 12.6% more than that of the Enterprise." Data turned to face Picard. "Sensors also detect in excess of five hundred life forms aboard the ship, the majority of them human."

An ostentatious beep sounded from Worf's console. "Captain, we are being hailed," the Klingon announced.

Picard paused a moment, and then: "Open a channel."

The viewscreen flickered, and in place of the ship and surrounding space there was an image of the bridge of the other ship. A tall, blonde, moustached man in a gold uniform stood in the center of the image. He spoke. "This is Captain Archibald Myers of the Cothgran Defense Ship Dunkirk. Please identify yourself."

Picard responded in a bold tone, "This is Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the Federation Starship Enterprise."

Myers' eyes narrowed, and one of the people behind him suddenly looked panicked. Myers turned, clearly listening to a statement from someone not in view of the screen. After a moment, he turned back and said, "Well, Captain, we appear to be at your mercy. What are your instructions?"

Picard and Riker looked at each other, then Picard turned back to the screen. "I'm afraid I don't understand, Captain. We have no hostile intentions, I assure you. We are merely bewildered by your means of arrival and your identity."

Myers shifted slightly. "Let me ask you something that might help set things straight. What stardate is it now?"

Picard answered, "Stardate 44726.4. Why do you ask?"

Myers gave a deep breath. "Captain Picard, I apologize for our hostile posture, but we needed to be sure of our circumstances. Let me see how to put this..."

While Myers considered his next words, Picard cut in, "Are you in some sort of trouble, Captain? If you are a Federation ship as you appear to be, the resources of the Enterprise are at your disposal."

Myers looked up sharply. "No, we're not a Federation ship, not in any sense that would be meaningful to both of us. However, your help would be most welcome, if you mean what you say. You see, we've come to stop a war. We're from the twenty-eighth century."

Picard and Riker looked at each other. Riker turned back to Myers. "Captain, you're asking us to believe a lot."

"I know," said Myers. "But I ask that you give us the benefit of the doubt. We've come back to your time to prevent the most devastating war in the history of humanity. A war which would set events in motion causing the fragmentation of the United Federation of Planets, and in our time threatening the collapse of human interstellar civilization."

"If that's true, Captain, why hasn't someone from the future come back to stop this war before? You clearly have the technology."

Picard cut him off. "Captain Myers, I suggest we confer to discuss the situation. We have ample facilities aboard the Enterprise, if you'd care to join us."

Myers considered for a moment. "I'm sorry Captain, but circumstances prevent me from doing that. However, we would be pleased to welcome you aboard our ship."

Picard smiled. "Thank you, Captain. My first officer, Commander Riker, will lead a party to your ship. I assure you my absence will in no way hamper discussion."

Myers smiled back. "I understand completely, Captain. Would half an hour be a good time?"

"That would be superb. I presume you have transporter capability?"

"Of course. I'll be looking forward to meeting you and your team, Commander Riker."

Riker responded, "Likewise, sir."

"Enterprise out," said Picard. The screen image changed to that of the Dunkirk set against the omnipresent starfield. Picard immediately snapped, "Number One, Data, in my office. Now."

Picard entered the smallish chamber, Riker and Data trailing behind. Picard sat behind a large desk with a small display screen on one side of it. Riker seated himself in one of two chairs on the opposite side of the desk, while Data came to a standstill slightly behind and to Riker's left.

Picard inhaled. "Mister Data, could you please bring Commander Riker up on the basics of time travel as we understand it?"

Data turned to face Picard and Riker simultaneously.

"Many races have discovered the ability to travel through time. Ninety-three years ago, Starfleet developed this ability. Twenty years later, no fewer than thirteen different methods to time travel had been discovered, as well as three methods of monitoring the time stream. Several experiments with time travel had resulted in near-catastrophe, so Starfleet 'put a lid' on the knowledge while deciding what to do with it.

"On stardate 86423.5, the time stream suddenly ceased registering by any of the three known methods. Monitors had detected six objects travelling forwards or backwards through the time stream within Federation space by that date. A seventh and an eighth had been detected shortly before the disruption. It was conjectured that these two objects collided. Since all but one of the thirteen known methods required warp drive to implement, it seems likely that there was a warp field implosion within the time stream. The disruption has not shown signed of abating or lessening in the last sixty years.

"The net effect was a near-total closing off of the time stream. However, occasionally a 'hole' will form in the fabric of space-time, which scientists have found can be manipulated to create a tunnel to another time. In 94% of these cases, the passage is one-way only."

"Thank you, Data," said Picard. "Only personnel of command rank or higher are authorized to know this information, with a few exceptions such as Data. Since Captain Myers claims that the Dunkirk is from the future, I judged it necessary for you to become one of the exceptions."

"Thank you, sir," said Riker. "Is is reasonable to assume that the Dunkirk arrived through one of these tunnels?"

"Yes, sir," said Data. "And judging from its rapid disappearance upon the ship's arrival, it seems certain that the tunnel was of the one-way variety."

"So they're probably stuck here."

"Yes, Number One. And we must find out exactly what it is they came back to do. Stopping a war is a laudable goal, but we don't know the full story yet. I want you to take Data and an awayteam over there to find out."

"I understand sir," said Riker. "I'll want a small security escort and a historian with me."

"Sir," interrupted Data, "might I suggest bringing Counselor Troi along as well?"

Riker looked quizically at Data. Data continued, hesitantly, "They seem to be somewhat... edgy on the Dunkirk. She might be able to help us determine why. Her skills may be of use to them, as well."

"An excellent thought, Data," said Picard. "Assemble your team, Number One. You only have fifteen minutes."

When the shimmering effect vanished from their sight, Riker and his team stood in a chamber similar to the Enterprise's transporter room, which they had inhabited a split-second before. Before them, in the flesh, was Captain Myers. A young black woman, also dressed in gold, stood on his left, while a young blonde man in blue stood behind him to his right.

"Captain Myers," said Riker. "I'm Commander Riker."

"Yes, hello Commander." They shook hands as Riker stepped off the transporter pad. "May I introduce my first officer, Commander Lisa Brent, and my science officer, Commander Eric Masters."

Riker replied in kind. "This is the Enterprise's science officer, Lieutenant Commander Data, and our ship's counselor, Deanna Troi. And this is our chief of security, Lieutenant Worf."

"A Klingon!" As Worf stepped forward, Brent displayed a small black box she'd removed from her belt. In an instant, a pale, white hand had clasped about her wrist and wrenched it upwards. A thin beam of blue light emitted from Brent's phaser and burned a hole in the ceiling of the room.

Data calmly said, "If you attempt to fire again, I shall be forced to break your wrist."

Brent shot Data a burning glare. "What the hell are you?"

Myers came forward. "It's all right, Lisa. Drop the phaser." As the weapon clattered to the floor and Data released Brent's wrist, Myers continued, "My apologies, Commander. We're not used to seeing Klingons in... these circumstances."

Worf spoke up. "And what circumstances are you accustomed to seeing us in?"

Brent spat, "War."

Riker's eyes narrowed. "Captain, I believe we should begin these discussions in earnest as soon as possible. The sooner we get our cards on the table, the more comfortable we'll all feel."

"A wise decision, Commander," said Myers. "Lisa, please show our guests," he looked pointedly at her, then repeated, "our guests, to the briefing room."

"Yes sir", came the response. "This way... gentlemen." Myers and Brent filed out of the room first, followed by Data, Worf, the two Enterprise security guards, and, finally, Riker and Troi.

Outside the transporter room, Troi matched her pace with Riker's, and whispered, "They're very scared of us. All of us, not just Worf. We may not be hearing any klaxons, but the emotions of the crew are those of a ship on Red Alert."

"One more thing to find out about at this meeting," grumbled Riker.

"Gentlemen," said Captain Myers to the company seated about the round table. "Where shall we begin?"

Data replied, "The logical place would be at the beginning, Captain."

Myers chuckled. "Indeed it would, Mister... Data, is it? What species are you, by the way? I've never seen your like."

"I am an android, sir."

Masters leaned forward. "An android! Of course! A primitive skin covering, but still... I didn't know any existed in this era."

"There is only one other like me in existence."

Riker held up his hand. "Gentlemen, please. We can hold the science fair later. Captain, you say you're here to prevent a war. Could you give us some details of that?"

Myers sighed. "Okay. The Galactic War began on stardate 193216.5 - about fifty years from now. While our history records are incomplete, we do know that it involved most of the major powers of this region, including the Federation, Klingons, Romulans, Tholians, Gorns, and Cardassians. It was a war of shifting loyalties, and every power fought with and against every power at some point in the war. It eventually ground to a halt after two decades of bloodshed and few gains on any front.

"The Federation all but abandoned their once-aggressive exploration of the galaxy as they sought to rebuild their economy and defend against the frequent raids into their territory. However, it was a losing battle. Like the Ferengi, the Federation was ill-suited to the hostile post-war environment, and contact with three other major powers, in stronger economic and military condition than the war participants, proved to be the final blow to the collective ego of the Federation.

"The so-called Great Revolt was really a large number of smaller revolts which happened to coincide. Starfleet was unable to stop them, and the majority of the fleet retreated to the core of the Federation. Hundreds of small 'system-states' declared their independence. Many lasted only weeks, the victims of raids from other system-states and from outside the old Federation.

"A few, such as Theta Trianguli, survived and prospered, to some degree. We had enough ships to defend our small territory against all but the largest of fleets. Unfortunately, by the time we had proven our worth to the Klingons, the Federation had turned its economic resources into a vast war machine, bent on regaining its former territory. Millions, perhaps billions, have died in the last few decades from the Federation's relentless attacks.

"However, attrition is wearing down both sides. It appears to be only a matter of time before the Klingons, Gorns and Cardassians carve up the human space between them. If the Sggov had half a mind to do so, it could be all over in a week."

Captain's Log, Stardate 9047.6: We have arrived early for our rendezvous with the Enterprise. The Versailles has been stationary at the edge of the Carson Asteroid Belt for the past day while undergoing minor maintenance. However, the crew is starting to get restless, especially the officers and personnel scheduled to be transferred to the Enterprise. Some of the crew is keeping busy preparing for our charting of the outer Mercurae V sector, but that's small comfort to many of the non-scientists aboard.

Lieutenant Siobhan McGee strolled down the corridor toward the officer's lounge. Maybe everyone else was bored silly, but she'd always been perfectly able to keep herself occupied. Of course, in her earlier days some of her 'entertainment' had nearly gotten her booted out of the academy, but she just figured that was the price the brass had to pay for keeping inventive young adults cooped up in classes all day. After all, Starfleet had needed all the innovation and intelligence it could recruit since the Galactic War.

The lounge doors slid open to reveal a plush, oval-shaped room decorated with copious foliage, much of it sprouting from numerous pots or boxes. Nonetheless, the room exhuded greenery, maybe even more so than the botanical labs. It seemed that the Versailles' officers had the wherewithal to keep the lounge even on this small ship comfortably decorated.

McGee spotted Harris Zale sitting at the bar and strode over to him.

"Good afternoon, Doctor."

"Good afternoon, Lieutenant," agreed Zale, his broad smile beaming from his dark, rounded features. "Any news on the arrival of the Enterprise?"

"Afraid not. Of course, it's pretty hard to get good long-range readings from inside the belt."

Zale's drink suddenly appeared beside him, and the bartender glided off to serve other customers. Zale tossed half of it down his throat, and wiped his mouth with his napkin. "So exactly what are we doing here, anyway?"

"Drinking, it looks like," said McGee, an impish grin on her acquiline face.

Zale chuckled. "No, no. I mean here in the asteroid belt."

McGee shrugged. "Good place to hide while making repairs. Besides, there's no reason to announce our presence, is there? The last thing we need is a Romulan or Sggov cruiser sending us running to the Enterprise for help."

"Ah. I'm afraid I'm not very good at logistics or that stuff."

"The way you drink, I'm surprised you're any good at medicine."

"Now, now, young lady," said Zale. He downed the rest of his drink and said, "I'm not just the best doctor in Starfleet, I'm also the best drinker. Only the best for the Enterprise, yes?"

"I'll keep that in mind next time I feel like winning a bet." Zale and McGee turned to see Linh Zhang, the diminutive future chief engineer of the USS Enterprise, standing next to them, an enticing red concoction in her left hand.

"You will!" exclaimed McGee.

"Certainly," said Zhang. "I thought it was common knowledge that small, quiet, oriental women can drink any two people under the table."

McGee and Zale glanced at each other. Zale grinned again and said, "I can see this is going to be a good crew!"

McGee echoed his smile and said, "If the captain and first officer are half as loose as you two are, I can't imagine how we'll ever get any work done!"

Commander Jason Karnaugh stepped onto the bridge of the Versailles. The room was spacious for so small a ship. They sure built them well before the war, mused Karnaugh. Of course, these Drake-class ships are getting pretty old. It will be nice when the new Wellington-class vessels are launched. Still, no doubt the commanders of the old destroyers were happy to be commanding what they had.

Karnaugh stepped down next to the captain's chair. "Good afternoon, Commander."

Commander Jessica Larkin, captain of the Versailles, looked up. "Good afternoon to you, Commander. Nothing better to do than haunt the bridge of an idle starship?"

The corner of Karnaugh's mouth twitched. "I'm afraid not. I'm restless, anxious for the Enterprise to get here so I can take over the exec position and get on with business."

Larkin turned to look at the navigation information in front of her. "Well, they ought to be here within twelve hours." She looked back. "The other crewmen waiting for transfer have been socializing in the officer's lounge. Not your style?"

"Afraid not. I've never been much for the lounge atmosphere."

"I don't blame you for that."

An indicator on the tactical console bleeped. The tactician checked some instruments, and turned toward Larkin. "Sensors indicate a moving object within the asteroid belt, moving half impulse, roughly toward us."

"The Enterprise? Surely they're not here yet."

"I don't think so. The asteroids are getting in the way. It's almost on top of us already."

"Yellow alert," commanded Larkin. "Plot a course out of the belt."

Before the helmsman could acknowledge the order, the tactician cried, "The object's firing. Raising shields..."

Just as Larkin heard the familiar beeps of the shields activating, a strong blast rocked the ship, throwing several people from their chairs. One of the scientific stations at the rear of the bridge exploded.

The tactician reported, "Shields holding, just barely. Some sort of energy discharge." "Put it on screen. Helm, get us out of this belt!"

The helmsman acknowledged with an "Aye, Captain", as the tactician brought the main viewscreen to focus on the enemy object.

It was white, spherical, and glowing. It had no apparent features, and bobbed and weaved at unlikely speeds on the screen.

"What the hell is that?" asked Karnaugh. "A drone?"

"I don't know, and I don't care, either," said Larkin. "Fire a spread of photon torpedoes at it," she ordered.

"Photons away," said the tactician. "Captain, it's firing again."

"Hold on!"

A straight white beam laced out of the sphere toward the Versailles, hitting it squarely. On the bridge, circuits at several stations overloaded. The helmsman was thrown from her chair, her head hitting the guard rail with a sickening thud. An explosion caught the tactician square in the face, burning him severely and knocking him out.

"Hell," said Larkin. She stepped forward to the tactical station, as Karnaugh took over at the helm.

"Shields are out," said Larkin. "The next shot's going to cripple us. I think we have a few phaser shots."

"Better use them," said Karnaugh, "unless you want to try to warp out of here. The impulse engines are out."

"And maybe warp into an asteroid? I don't think so. Firing phasers."

Red lightning leapt from the surface of the Versailles toward the attacker, and was seemingly absorbed harmlessly into it.

"No effect," murmured Larkin.

"Same as the photons, I'd guess," said Karnaugh. "Hang on, it's firing again!"

In the silence of space, the drone lashed out once more at the invading metal object. Satisfied, sensing that the intruder no longer registered any power sources worth bothering with, it dove into the asteroid field and left the area.

Behind it, the hulk of the Versailles drifted slowly toward the outer rim of the asteroid belt.

Captain's Log, Stardate 9048.8: The Enterprise has arrived at the Carson Asteroid Belt to rendezvous with the USS Versailles to pick up the last of the officers and crew assigned for the ship's next extended tour of duty, my third as its captain. However, the Versailles does not respond to our hails, though it should have arrived twenty-two-point-four hours ago, and we cannot detect it with our sensors. There is insufficient data to draw any conclusions about this phenomenon, so we are continuing our search.

"Anything to report, Commander Butler?" asked Captain Vysoc.

Jeremiah Butler turned his large frame from the science console. "No, sir. Nothing yet. It will take us at least three more days to finish scanning the belt..."

"...so we've only begun. I am aware of that, Mr. Butler. Thank you. Continue your search."

Butler stared for a moment as his captain turned his attention elsewhere. It was still sometimes hard to deal with that thick Vulcan skull, but he thought that Vysoc was concerned, in his own way, about the fate of the Versailles. Butler mumbled, "Aye, sir," and turned back to his work.

Vysoc seated himself in the command chair. "Report, Mr. Wilson."

Helmsman lieutenant Marianna Wilson looked up stiffly, but did not turn around. "Nothing to report, sir. We are holding this positing while Mr. Butler continues his scan."

"Understood. Thank you."

"Sir."

"Yes?"

"If I may, this is... damned frustrating." She still did not turn around, but continued to look directly ahead of her. Vysoc seemed unconcerned.

"Indeed. The possible loss, or defection, of a ship full of quality Starfleet men is certainly not something to revel in. Unless, of course, the reveler is a Romulan."

"It's not just that, sir." Finally, Wilson turned her head stiffly around to face Vysoc, her smooth blue eyes glittering in the light. "It's... well, the Enterprise has missions to perform. This delay is... annoying."

"God damn it," snapped Butler, pounding the console in front of him. Vysoc turned around, one eyebrow raised. Wilson also turned to look coolly at the science officer. Butler turned around and said, "You two were really made for each other, you know that? Over three hundred people could be dead or dying out there for all we know, and all you two are concerned about are their value to Starfleet and getting on with our mission! Don't you care anything at all for those people, for themselves?"

"All men have value," said Vysoc. "How each of us measures that value is up to each of us as individuals. What matters is that we agree that they must be found."

Butler glared at him. "If you say so... captain."

The search continued in utter silence. The ship's computers efficiently processed the data collected by the sensor sweeps, with Butler checking a handful of more interesting ones manually. It was nearly ninety minutes later when flashes of bright green appeared on his screen, and he turned around. "I've got something, captain: A large metal object, six hundred thousand kilometers counter-clockwise from our position."

"Helm, " ordered Vysoc, "full impulse. Take us to the location indicated by Mr. Butler's sensors."

"Aye, captain, " said Wilson. "Full impulse."

Minutes later, the hull of the Versailles was visible on the Enterprise's main viewer. Butler stood up from his chair and leaned forward on the bridge railing. "My god," he said, "What in the hell hit them?"

"Unknown, sir," said Wilson. "But I am detecting life signs. I estimate one hundred fifty people."

"That's only -- something's killed half their crew!"

Vysoc activated his comm pad. "Medical, this is the Captain. We have located the Versailles, and it appears severely damaged. I want five medical teams ready to beam over to the vessel. Be prepared for war casualties."

A voice echoed from the speaker, "Aye, captain."

Vysoc touched a button on the pad. "Security."

"Security here."

"Assemble a security and engineering team to beam over to the Versailles. Lieutenant Commander Tyzin, you'll command all parties aboard the Versailles."

"Aye, sir. We'll be ready in five minutes."

"Excellent. Vysoc out." He turned about. "Mr. Butler, I want you over there as well. Procure the ship's logs and any available sensor data. Find out what happened."

"Yes, sir!" Butler stood up and strode into the turbolift.

"Mr. Wilson, hold us at this position, and perform continuous wide-area sweeps. I don't want what surprised them to do the same to us. Be prepared for battle conditions at any moment."

"Of course, sir. I always am," replied the android.

The main party materialized aboard the bridge of the Versailles minutes later. The room was filled with smoke, and the five starfleet officers immediately began coughing.

"I think... I'll work on the ventilation system first," said Butler.

"Good idea," said Chrillen Amolto Tyzin, the Andorian security chief of the Enterprise. "You three," he addressed to the two doctors and the security man, "check everyone in here to see if they're alive, and if so, get them out of here!" Tyzin's voice, like that of most Andorians, sounded tightly wound, and rarely varied an iota from that state regardless of circumstances.

As everyone fanned out, Tyzin moved to the command chair, which he found empty. "The captain's not here."

"Where is he?" asked Butler.

"I don't know. The chair's equipment is completely burned out."

"Tell me about it. The power in here is all screwed up. Let me see what's happening with the Engineering team. I can't even get the room's emergncy batteries stabilized. I'm amazed there's any air in here!"

Tyzin coughed. "I'm not sure there is, Commander," he said sardonically.

"You can't do this!" shouted Commander Jessica Larkin.

Vysoc leaned back a micron in his chair, his hands lightly clasped before him and a completely unruffled on his face. "It is already done, Commander. The Enterprise requires an executive officer, and, as a former starship commander yourself, you are the logical choice for the position."

"That's right," said Wilson. "I was a starship commander. Not an exec. I've done that before, and, frankly - sir - I've had more than my fill of keeping the crew in line and doing the legwork for the captain. I earned my position as a commander, and you and Starfleet Command can't take that way from me!"

"Unfortunately, that is not true, Commander. The Versailles is no longer spaceworthy and has been retired, and there are no other command positions available at this time. The Enterprise's executive position is the highest available position which you are qualified to fill."

"Damn you, Vulcan! How dare you!"

Vysoc paused for a moment, then said "If the position is not to your liking, perhaps there is a destroyer or frigate in the fleet which could make use of your abilities."

Larkin's eyes and lips narrowed, betraying her barely-contained rage. Suddenly, she turned on her heels and left the room. Behind her, Vysoc tipped his head slightly to one side, as if regarding the door which closed behind her. Then he leaned forward and turned on the viewscreen before him.

The Enterprise's officer's lounge was larger, but not plusher, than that which had existed on the Versailles. Larkin ordered a bottle of straight whiskey and took it and a glass to a table.

Several tables away, Siobhan McGee led a cadre of Enterprise officers in a toast. "To the Enterprise, and the many memorable times sure to come."

A round of "hear, hears" and "ayes" echoed about the table, a few crewmen nearby also joining in. McGee's infectious smile and the copious amounts of liquir making their way around the table had greatly improved the mood of the group, which had been depressed after the memorial for their fellows lost on the Versailles.

Harris Zale then stood, pouring himself a drink to replace the one that had been in his hands only seconds before. "And to the officers and crew of that hardy vessel, long may they serve!"

Another round of assents and laughter was followed by Jeremiah Butler's booming, "And to Starfleet!" And Linh Zhang added, "And the Federation!" Butler took another sip of his orange juice, while Zhang's choice was a rum-and-soft drink mixture of ancient vintage.

After the cheers had subsided, the party took their seats. Then, on a whim, McGee turned to Marianna Wilson. "How about you, kid?"

"Excuse me," Wilson said in her soft voice.

"A toast. What would an android toast, anyway?"

Wilson looked around the crowd, lifting her water slightly above the table. Off in the distance, past the bodies of Chang and Butler, she spotted Jessica Larkin. Larkin's intense gaze met the unwavering expression of curiosity upon Wilson's face. Without breaking the contact, Wilson stood, and lifted her glass high. Her voice could be heard above all the other noise in the room.

"I propose a toast the Captain and the crew of the U.S.S. Versialles, the finest vessel in Starfleet."

A cool silence held the room for several seconds. The Butler stood, across the table from Wilson.

"I'll drink to that," he said.

Captain's Log, Stardate 9047.6: The Enterprise is orbiting Jester IV, at the fringer of Federation territory. A Federation colony there, just over half a year old, ceased regular transmissions on stardate 9003.4, cause unknown. Sensor scans of the colony area detected four humanoid life forms. No other such readings have been detected within one hundred kilometers of the colony. We have been unable to extablish communications, so the next logical step is to send a landing party to the surface. Executive Officer Larkin is leading a team of security and medical personnel to investigate.

As soon as the copper glow of the transpoerter faded away, seven uniformed figures tensed. Four drew phasers.

"Fan out. Phasers on stun," said Commander Jessica Larkin sharply. Three indigo-clad security officers formed a triangle about Larkin and the three doctors. Her phaser at the ready, Larkin paused to survey the site.

It was much like most small Federation settlements she had visited in her career: The main roads were cement, almost every other path was dirt. The buildings were made of various metal alloys and concrete, producing the image of a city which wasn't certain which era it belonged in. Both streets and buildings were spacious, and the party's current location, the town square, was doubly so. 'A good place for an ambush,' thought Larkin.

She noted some chattering behind her: Two of the doctors, both women in their late twenties, were gossiping. Turning, she barked an order of silence. One woman looked down while the other swallowed and nodded. They returned to their tricorders, slowly following the guards out into the square. Larkin groaned inwardly.

Larkin walked up behind the chief of security. Chrillen Amolto Tyzin was a small Andorian who moved with quick, precise steps. "Nice day," he said as she approached. The sunlight glistened off his blue skin as he spoke.

"So where is everyone?" asked Larkin. "If everyone's dead, where are the bodies?"

"They're not here, Commander. Maybe they all went on holiday."

"A useful thought, Commander. If you have another, please tell someone else. Carry on."

Larkin moved toward the center of the square. Suddenly, one of the doctors called out, "Commander! Life sign, bearing 203 mark 6, heading toward us."

Larkin snapped about and sensed the security officers take up defensive positions flanking the path the doctor had indicated. The doctors moved back from the path. "Further readings?" asked Larkin.

The two women were muttering under their breath something about this being their first extraterrestrial encounter. The doctor who had reported the signal, a man in his thirties, said, "It's human, Commander. Should come into view in a few seconds."

His statement was on the mark. Momentarily, the person in question walked uneasily into the square. Tyzin spoke first. "A girl!"

"About seven or eight years old, it appears," said Larkin. Then, sensing the guards releasing the tension from their bodies, she said, "Stay alert. We don't know what else is around here. Doctor James." One of the women looked at her. "Let's examine the girl. You two, keep scanning the area."

As the others moved out, James and Larkin approached the girl. The child was dressed in what appeared to be a nightgown and had a blank stare on her face. James bent down next to her and scanned her. "Hi, honey. What's your name?" she asked. The girl did not reply.

"What's wrong with her?" asked Larkin.

"It looks like shock. I don't know what she's seen, but she's not responding. She's not focusing on any of us. Just staring off into space." She consulted her tricorder. "I'm getting some strange reading, though. A mild energy flux."

"Source?"

"I'm not sure. It could be the girl, but..." She trailed off as she looked up. The girl was now staring pointedly at her with a gaze that was almost hypnotic. James' jaw hung limply as she noticed a slight glow form in the child's bright blue eyes. Her tricorder started humming loudly, a warning she did not heed.

Larkin noticed the glow from the girl's eyes. "James!" she shouted, moving toward the doctor, just as the girl's face erupted in a surge of white energy. The blast hit James dead in the face, incinerating her skull instantly. The girl's skull was briefly visible as a dark image inside the glow, before it, too, vanished. Less than a second later, the girl's body exploded in a blast of the same energy, charring James' remains, which slumped to the ground. The edge of the blast caught Larkin's arm and side, bruning her badly. She grunted in pain and fell to her knees.

Commander Tyzin heard the roar that accompanied the blast and whirled in time to see Larkin fall. He ran toward her, aware of the other female doctor running toward the blackened mass on the ground. The other officers likewise converged on the site of the carnage. The glow had all but faded. There was no trace of the girl's body.

Tyzin reached Larkin just as she lost consciousness. Without hesitation, he touched the gold Starfleet insignia on his uniform. In his high voice, he cried, "Enterprise, we have a medical emergency. Six to beam directly to sickbay. Energize!"

A gentle breeze blew across the square after the glow from the transporter had subsided. It pushed the remaining bits of charcoal down the side alleys, and out of sight. The reinforced cement that formed the floor of the square had resisted the day's events, and left no trace that anyone had ever been there.

Captain Visoc stood in his quarters, an empty glass in one hand, staring out the window into space. An unobtrusive buzz sounded. Visoc's head turned slightly, and he said, "Enter."

The door behind him slid open and Doctor Harris Zale, the Enterprise's chief physician, stepped into the room...

And then there was a lengthy piece involving members of the Enterprise getting behind Romulan lines on some pretext (I don't remember if this idea predated "Unification", or came from it) and finding the hulk of the previous Enterprise which had defected. The story was to feature a strong focus on Vysoc, who has secretly harbored a desire to clear the name Enterprise of the black mark left on it by the defection. Un-Vulcan-like? Well, yes, but he's 1/8 human, and that piece has been secretly knawing at him for years, having its effects in little ways that eventually boil over to dramatic effect.

Another obvious story would involve Vysoc learning of his lineage, but I didn't have any concrete ideas there.

I made a conscious effort when writing these stories to try to maintain the feel and pacing of a television show as much as possible within prose. What this meant, to me, was that things had to move faster than they typically do in a novel or even your average short story. Extensive descriptions of surroundings just breaks the whole mood, as far as I'm concerned. It turns out that this has had a lasting influence on my writing, making even my more recent pieces seem more clipped than they might otherwise be. But maybe it's just my imagination.

Ultimately, this is one of the projects that I most regret not having followed through on, because I really liked the characters I'd dreamed up, the backdrop they'd be set against, and the commentary on the state of Star Trek today that they'd make. But, writing has always been a nemesis for me, and in graduate school I simply didn't have the time, energy or drive. So this is what's left of it.

Hopefully I'll have more success in the future!

hits since 7 November 1999.