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Alle FanFiction, das anderen Fandoms als Superman zuzuordnen ist


Beitragvon Kai the spy » Fr 8. Apr 2011, 15:09


created by Kai Brauns
based upon STAR TREK created by Gene Roddenberry

“Changing course”
written by Kai Brauns
Consultant: Uwe Heinzmann


Captain's Log, Stardate: 128692.4. Our current mission is to protect the Romulan colony
on Feldar III. Other Romulan colonies in the area have been attacked before
by a group of Reman renegades. I am determined to get these pirates and deal with them
as harshly as Starfleet regulations allow. It is better to teach them a lesson they will not forget
than having to constantly watch over them.

It was dark on the bridge of the U,S,S. TUCKER. There were several lightsources, but grey walls, black uniforms and the grim faces of the crew seemed to swallow it all. Captain Toral stared at the huge screen which was depicting a holographic image of outer space in front of the the ship. Despite his Vulcan heritage he felt an unfamiliar tension.
To his right, his first officer was watching the sensors. So far the Trill had criticized almost any decision the captain has made but for once he kept quiet. He used to say it was a first officer´s duty to offer alternatives. Toral did not approve of this behaviour, and had he known this seemingly young man before, he would never have relied on the complimentary content of his Starfleet dossier.
At last the first officer declared what everyone was waiting for. “Sensors read Reman battle cruiser at 5 million kilometers, closing in with raised shields and powered disruptor banks.”
“Raise shields,” Toral commanded. “Red Alert. Phasers on target.”
“Remans getting into phaser range, Sir,” announced Lieutenant M'rek from the tactical console. “Target set.”
“Sir,” the Trill said. “We should hail them, warn them.”
Toral suppressed an annoyed sigh. He had hoped the powered disruptor banks would be sufficient reason for a preemptive strike “Very well,” he said resignedly. “Open a frequency to the Remans.”
“Frequencies open.”
Toral cleared his throat before speaking. “This is the Federation Starship TUCKER. Feldar III is under our protection. You are ordered to stand down, or we will use lethal force.”
There was a moment of tense silence.
The Reman ship was now filling the big holographic screen. It was just an old Reman Warbird, being no real threat for the TUCKER, since the Remans hadn't been able to improve their starship technology since the downfall of the Romulan Empire.
Suddenly the disruptor banks at the wings of the Warbird began to glow and two beams of light lanced at the Federation cruiser.
“The Remans have fired,” M'rek stated the obvious.
“Evasive maneuvers,” the captain ordered. “Fire at will.”
The TUCKER dodged the incoming fire and retaliated with several phaser blasts. The Remans were not as quick as the TUCKER, and their shields collapsed under the phaser´s impact force . Suddenly, the Warbird banked around and jumped to Warp.
“Follow them,” commanded Toral, standing out of his chair and stepping closer to the main screen. “We are not letting them get away to come back after our departure.”
“Sir,” replied the Trill, “if we leave now, the colony will be without protection.”
“They are getting away,” Toral dismissed his first officer.
“There are more than a thousand civilians down there.”
Toral turned around to face the young man. “Commander, that's enough. You are to stand down.”
A heartbeat later Toral was lying unconcious on the floor while the young Trill fixed his gaze on the Cardassian helmsman.
“We will not follow them,” the commander said determinedly.
Unsure what to do the Cardassian finally nodded. “Aye, Commander Dax.”

Act 1

“He punched me in the face, Admiral,” Toral stated, having a hard time checking his temper and keeping his Vulcan calmness up. “It was a severe breach of Starfleet regulations, not to mention highly illogical.”
“I realize that,” the admiral on the small screen in the captain's ready room replied. “But in the end, Dax was right. Only minutes after the first Reman Warbird warped out, two others decloaked and would have annihilated the colony if you'd have had your way and followed the other ship. The man's instincts saved a lot of lives today.”
“He may have been right this time,” the Vulcan admitted grudgingly. “But he is still guilty of insubordination and assault on a superior officer. Next time, his 'instincts' may be wrong.” Toral paused for a moment. “Anyway, I cannot work with this officer any longer. In my opinion he should be court-martialed. If this will not happen, he must at least be transferred away from my ship. As long as he is on the TUCKER, he will remain in the brig.”
The admiral nodded. “This I understand, of course. As it turns out, our new head of Starfleet Command has plans to deal with Dax though I am not sure they will suit you.”

Three days later Commander Jelon Dax sat outside the offices of Starfleet Command in San Francisco, Earth. He was unsure what to expect here and wondered why he wasn´t in a holding cell awaiting his sentence and most probably a dishonorable discharge.
Despite his deep thoughts concerning his future, Dax still noticed the headquarters of Starfleet had gotten a paint-job, feeling much brighter and warmer than before. The huge windows showed the idyllic garden. It may be late september, but it was still nice and warm outside.
Finally the secretary approached and announced that the admiral was ready to receive him now. Dax rose and stepped towards the large, old-fashioned non-mechanical double door. After pushing down the handle, the door swung wide and Dax stared in surprise at the diminutive figure outlined in front of a panoramic window behind the desk.
“Come in, Commander,” the old Ferengi said.
Dax complied and closed the door.
The Ferengi walked towards him with his saw-toothed grin. “It's good to see you again, Dax,” he said and shook the perplexed Trill's hand.
“Oh, you got the new body and I'm the unrecognizable,” the small admiral joked.
Dax's perplexity was replaced by a sudden joy of reunion. “Nog, what are you doing here?”
“Well, it's my office, you know.”
There was the puzzlement again. “What do you mean, this is... When did they make you head of Starfleet?”
“Oh, well, I'm not. Not yet officially, anyway. The official ceremony is in ten days. But come, sit.”
They went to the side of the large office where two couches and a small table waited for them.
“So,” Nog continued the conversation after they sat down. “You're Jelon, now.”
“Yes,” Dax replied. “My tenth host. Probably my last.”
“You know,” Nog said. “I've known two former Daxes, but this is the first time I've seen you with a male host. A bit weird, but luckily, I'm not young enough to care much for females anymore, anyway.”
They laughed. “Yes, it takes most people a while to adjust. And you, you've come quite far, haven't you.”
“Ah, well, first Ferengi to join Starfleet and survive long enough to get this old. I guess they had no choice but make me the new leader. Still, I wish my father was still alive to see this.”
Dax smiled sympathetically. “He would be proud. I know he supported your decision to join Starfleet right from the start.”
“Yeah,” Nog said nostalgically. “Hey, remember when he bought me a cadet uniform, not knowing I'd get them for free at the academy?!”
They both laughed. “Like I said, he was quite supportive.”
Nog nodded smiling. But then he leaned back and straightened his uniform. “Back to official business. I've heard, you had quite an argument with Captain Toral a few days ago.”
Dax swallowed hard. He had almost forgotten about that. “Well, yeah. I guess you know the facts. If I hadn't taken command, more than a thousand Romulan colonists would be dead.”
“So, you don't regret your decision.”
Dax shook his head. “Affirmative. I may have ruined my Starfleet career, but I'd still do it again.”
Nog nodded. “That's good.” He sat up and scratched his left lobe. “Dax, what´s your opinion on Starfleet´s present status-quo?”
Again, Dax was perplexed. What had this to do with anything? “Uh, well, I guess, it's not the good old days, anymore. It's all about regulations and standing ready for the next war to break out.”
“Quite right,” Nog said, standing up and starting to pace the room randomly. “We used to be explorers, seeking new life, 'going boldly where no man has gone before' as Zefram Cochrane put it. And that's what I signed up for eighty years ago. But now, we've become simple soldiers waiting for the next battle.” He stopped and turned to face Dax. “But that's about to change.”
Dax shot his old friend a puzzled look. “What are you going to do?”
“Me and a few other people in Starfleet Command are determined to change the direction of Starfleet. We want to renew our original mission. And we have a new flagship, the second of the new Magellan-class, to represent this new direction.”
“A ship?”
“Yes. Right on time for the 300th anniversary of the maiden flight of the first Starfleet ship. And I want a captain to go with it, someone who will go out and find new civilizations, who is not married to Starfleet regulations but will follow his instincts.” He paused for a moment. “I want you, Dax.”
Dax had to let this sink in. “Let me get this straight,” he said. “I knocked out my captain, and instead of kicking my butt out of the fleet, you offer me a promotion and the command of a new flagship to visit unknown planets and see stuff no one else has ever seen before.”
Nog nodded. “That about sums it up.” He laughed. “So, are you gonna do it?”
A wide grin took over Dax's face. “Hell, yeah.”

Act 2

Serok was staring out of the window over the skyline of the Romulan colony of Luron VI . He had exactly twelve minutes and 29 seconds left to spend on this planet before getting beamed on board the HERALD. Rather than taking a walk and seeing the last of his home for a long time, he stayed inside the apartment.
He did not feel any appreciation for this colony or most of its people. Most Romulans had not treated him very well. They made fun of him, insulted him, and sometimes, when one of them wanted to impress the others that person would physically attack him. Even among his relatives he had few friends and as much as he tried, he could never shake the emotion of fear and pain from himself.
Maybe he would have succeeded being raised on his father´s world among his own kin. Maybe then he would be like them: Cool, logical, emotionless.
A colleague at his former post once asked Serok why he would ever return here despite hating this place so much. Well, for all the misery it had caused him, there was something – someone – that always brought him back.
Serok turned around to look at his mother. “I will write whenever I can,” he said.
T'fawn smiled at her son. “I'm sure you will, even though you should have better things to do.”
The young Half-Vulcan stepped to her side and put his hand on her shoulder. “Nothing is better than thinking about you, mother.” He looked deeply into her eyes, saw a tear escaping and the smile disappearing from her face. At this moment, he became very aware of the state of emotion he was in. Quickly he withdrew his hand and tried to push his feelings away. “I will find the time to write.”
“HERALD to Commander Serok,” his comm-badge sounded saving him from the danger of another emotional outburst.
He tapped on the Starfleet insignia sewn into the fabric of his uniform jacket. “Serok here,” he replied.
“We are ready to beam you aboard, Commander,” said the female voice of a transporter chief on the Starship.
Serok sighed, picked up his luggage, and took one last glance at the woman that was the one good thing about his childhood. “Live long and prosper, mother,” he said.
She smiled again. “You, too, Serok.”
He nodded. “Serok to HERALD. One to beam up.”
T'fawn watched as her son desintegrated into atoms until a second later, he had completely vanished. She sat down, staring at the spot he had been in just a moment ago. And she let the tears run down her face.

Dax looked at his image in the mirror. He definitely liked the new uniform. The old one had been black and dull, only the collar showing color. Now the jacket was all color, even the shoulder area that was of a different material than the rest. And they had really returned to the glory days with the color scheme for the distinction of the divisions, with gold for command and navigation, blue for medical and science, and red for operations and security.
Dax touched the rank pins on his black collar, two on each side. He would have to get used to the fourth one.
The door signal beeped, interrupting the new captain in his thoughts. “Enter,” he said out loud so the computer would open the door to the visitor.
In came a dark skinned young woman, probably of Indian descent,dressed in a golden uniform jacket, but with only three rank pins of which one was halfway colored black. “Hello, sir,” she said. “I am Lieutenant Commander Sagu.”
“Ah, yes,” Dax acknowledged. “My helmsman.”
“Yes, sir,” she answered with a smile. “If you are ready, I will bring you aboard the ship.”
Dax motioned for his baggage lying on the bed of the one-room quarters. Packing had not been much of an issue. Since his arrival from the TUCKER, he had figured there was no reason to unpack his personal belongings, as he wouldn't be staying long anyway. He just replaced his black uniform jackets. “I am ready, Commander,” he said, grabbing his bags and turning towards her.
It took them only a few minutes to get from the guest quarters of the Space-dock in Earth's orbit to the inner shuttle bay of the station. Since the foundation of Starfleet, it had been a tradition for the Captain of a new ship to come aboard by shuttle rather than transporter beam.
After boarding their craft, Dax and Sagu sat down in the cockpit. “Your file praises your piloting skills, Commander,” the Trill said. “I am looking forward to seeing you in action.”
“Thank you, sir,” Sagu replied. “Though I doubt it's something you haven't seen before. Living ten lives, several as a Starfleet officer, most of them traveling in space, one as a pilot yourself even, you must have known some good helmsmen.”
“So you've been reading my file, as well,”
“I'm sorry, if you are offended by this,” Sagu said apologetically.
“Not in the least,” Dax calmed her. “It just shows that you're not indifferent to your commanding officer and if I get to read your file, it's only fair if you also read mine.”
“Yes, but you must have done it in order to choose your officers, right?”
“Actually, I didn't get to do that,” Dax said. “I came in so late in the game, Admiral Nog picked the senior officers himself.”
“Well,” said the Lieutenant Commander, “I can see why you were offered this command. You're not the kind of man I'm used to being my captain. And if I may say so, sir, I appreciate that.”
“Thanks,” Dax said. “And if you pilot my ship as good as this shuttle, I like you being my helmsman, too.”
“Guess that's what they call 'mutual liking',” Sagu blurted. As soon as it was out, she showed her embarrassment. “I'm sorry, sir, that last remark was inappropriate.”
Dax smiled. “Take it easy, Commander,” he said. “It's not like anyone's hearing us, and we are not in any emergency .”
“You're definitely not the kind of captain I'm used to.”
“Say, does our conversation qualify as flirting?” asked Dax.
The woman shot him a puzzled look. “I'm not flirting with you.”
Dax nodded acknowledment. “According to your files you're Muslim. Just how religious are you?”
“I am not the kind of woman practicing casual sex,” she answered in a playful tone.
“Oh, dammit,” he said. “You definitely read my file.”
They laughed until Lieutenant Commander Sagu nodded towards the front viewport. “There she is.”
Among the gray and silver starships that filled the Space-dock, the cream-colored hull was like a shining beacon in an otherwise dark space. It also had a classic look to it, reminding Dax of the old Constitution-Class with the warp nacelles jutting out of the engineering-section, upwards so the nacelles themselves were even higher than the saucer section. It was almost 800 meters long and 100 meters high, the circular primary hull measuring 350 meters in diameter. At the neck of the ship, connecting the saucer-section with the secondary hull was a large installation, just above the navigational deflector. Dax recognized it as a Yamato-type phaser, directly connected to the main reactor. It was a last resort weapon powerful enough to destroy another Starship with a single blast, but draining the ship's main power in the process, leaving it virtually defenseless with only emergency power for two minutes. It had been standard for newly commissioned Starfleet heavy cruisers for about a year now.
They flew higher, swooping around the upper side of of the primary hull. And there they were. The letters to define the new direction Starfleet was about to take. The return to the origins. U.S.S. ENTERPRISE NCC-1701-I.

Act 3

Upon debarkation they were greeted by several officers and crewmen standing in rows at the side of their boat. “Captain on deck,“ shouted a rather tall redclad Andorian . Within a moment's notice the officers and crewmen straightened .
Dax had witnessed this procedure quite often during his various careers in Starfleet, but this particular perspective was rather new to him. The Jelon part of him was about to panic, just now realizing the pressure he would be under from now on, but the symbiont calmed him down. “At ease,“ he said towards the crew. His crew.
They loosened up a bit. Not to say they were really at ease, but they did not look like statues anymore.
Dax paced the front row and looked at the crew. “Alright,“ he started the mandatory welcoming speech . “I want to be honest with you. I did not choose you for the job you're supposed to do. I wasn't asked. Most of you were on this assignment long before I ever heard of it. And I realize most likely none of you signed up for this having ever heard of me. All I know of you is what little I had time to read from your files. But that's just fine.
“It's fine we have not yet made anything of such historical significance anyone ever heard of us. It's fine, because we will change that. What awaits us on our mission, what we are about to experience, will be part of the history books. Do not expect this mission to be easy. We have a lot to live up to. We are supposed to bring Starfleet back to its roots and to live up to the name of our ship. That´s no easy task. But we will prevail!. Just try your best and I will do the same.“
He stopped in front of a redclad Terran Lieutenant Commander “Achim Benger, chief of engineering, I presume.“
The man nodded. „Yes, sir.“
“According to your file, you are quite good at what you're doing. Wouldn't have picked someone else, even if I had a choice.”
Benger smiled enthusiastically. “Thank you, sir. I'll do my best not to disappoint you.”
Dax stepped in front of the Andorian. “And you must be Lieutenant Commander Tahor.”
“Yes, sir,” shouted the tall blue-skinned alien as if Dax stood half a mile away, straightening up “Tactical officer and chief of security, sir!”
Dax raised an eyebrow, more than slightly amused by the performance. “Yes,” he said. “I feel safer already.” He turned to the crew. “That'll be all for now. Dismissed.”
The crewmen scattered , returning to their posts. When Tahor was about to do the same, Dax stopped him. “Commander, I have noticed that not all senior officers were present.”
“Yes, sir,” Tahor replied at a lower volume than before, his antennae moving sideways. “Commander Serok is not yet aboard. We will rendezvous the HERALD in the Romulan sector in two days.”
“Yes, I know,” Dax replied. “But what about our chief medical officer? He's supposed to have arrived yesterday.”
“So he did, Captain,” Tahor began, but hesitated before continuing. “When I told him to be present at your arrival, he was … dismissive.”
Dax's surprise showed on his face. “Dismissive,” he repeated.
“Well, sir, Dr. Peters is not very enthusiastic about Starfleet traditions.” He paused, thinking about if he should reveal the next detail or not. He decided to do it. “Actually, he is not very enthusiastic about Starfleet at all.”
Dax raised an eyebrow. “This assignment is getting more and more intriguing.” He turned to Commander Sagu, who had been trailing him. “What´s this human proverb: If the mountain won't come to Muhammad, Muhammad must go to the mountain. You go to the bridge, prepare to clear Space-dock.”
“Aye, sir,” she replied.
Dax then turned towards the door. “I'll go and visit our enthusiasm-lacking friend in sickbay.”

Arriving in sickbay, Dax approached a nurse. “Excuse me, I'm looking for Dr. Peters.”
“Yes, Dr. Peters is in Lab One, sir. This way.” The Bajoran woman waved him to a door on the right of the large room.
Dax nodded. „Thank you.“ He left the nurse to her work and went straight for Medical Laboratory 1.
When the captain entered the room, a middle-aged man with dark skin and a grumpy look on his face turned around and met Dax's eye. “Who are you?” he asked harshly.
“Had you been in the shuttle bay like you were supposed to you would already know the answer.”
“Ah,” the man said. “So, you're the captain.”
“And you, I presume, are Dr. Bryan Peters.”
“Listen,” the doctor said while turning back to his instruments. “I'm not good with Starfleet regulations. I heard you're not that strict about them, and I really need to get to know my new working place.”
“I don't follow regulations if they don't work within a situation,” Dax said. “And I do like to meet my senior officers.”
“Well, here we are, meeting each other.”
Dax wasn't going to leave it at that.. “Your absence from the ceremony could be interpreted as a lack of respect.”
“Whoever would view the situation this way would come to think you having a problem of self-esteem,” Peters retorted and turned around again to see Dax's reaction.
The captain remained calm. “It was not respect for me I was talking about, but respect for Starfleet.”
Peters smirked, picking up a medical tricorder and calibrating it. “In that case, they'd be right to view my absence this way.”
“You don't respect Starfleet,” Dax remarked.
“Hell, for the most part, I don't even like Starfleet. Space travel, militaristic behavior, stupid 'welcome the captain on board' traditions. Dammit, I'm a doctor, not an astronaut.”
“Well, you're a Starfleet medical officer, so you're kinda both.”
“Smart-ass. What the hell was I thinking joining the fleet?”
“I don't know,” Dax replied. “What were you thinking?”
“That question was rhetorical.” Peters sighed, putting the tricorder down. “I am an explorer. A medical explorer. I'm good at studying unknown diseases, improvising cures. Unfortunately, Starfleet offers the best opportunity to put these talents to use ” He looked at Dax. “I'm not a soldier. I don't like to discipline people, and I hate getting orders. If you're looking for a lapdog following you around saying 'Yessir' to anything you utter, go look for a new doctor.”
Dax smiled. “You remind me of another doctor I once met, about 200 years ago.” He thought for a moment. “And also of the father of a friend, actually.”
“Oh, great,” Peters said sarcastically. “Are you about to tell more tales from your previous lives? I can't wait to listen to the old man in a young body.”
“You may not call me 'old man',” Dax reprimanded him. Then he relaxed and offered his hand to the doctor. “But you may call me Jelon.”
Peters hesitated, then grabbed the captain's hand and shook it. “Bryan. Or Doc, whatever suits you.”
“Ooh, 'Doc'. That's a classic. I'm tempted.” They let go of their hands. “Listen, I'm not looking for a lapdog, and I'm beginning to like you. Things on board will be far less militaristic than you may be used to in Starfleet. But I need to uphold at least a little discipline.”
Peters nodded. “Fair enough.”
“And I want you to tell me when I'm wrong.”
Peters smirked. “When you're wrong, do I get to punch you in the face?”
“Oh, that one's gonna stick, huh?” Dax shook his head laughing. “Well, you're welcome to try.”
“Never mind, wouldn't go along with my oath as a doctor.”
“Okay,” Dax said. “Listen, I'm needed on the bridge, we're going to clear the dock. But why don't you come to my quarters tonight and we'll drink to the start of our mission to explore strange new diseases, to seek out new viral life and new bacterial civilizations.”
“Sounds good,” Peters said, way more friendly than before. “I could bring some Saurian Brandy.” Just then a thought crossed his mind. “But, uh, this is not a sexual thing, is it?”
Dax raised his eye-brows. “What? Why?”
“See, I was chatting with Commander Sagu earlier ...”
“Well, no, but if you want, we can make it one.”
“Let's say we won't, then I'll be there.”

Dax exited the turbolift and stepped onto the bridge. It was a real beauty, a white-walled circle, about 15 meters in diameter. At the front there was the large view-screen showing a three-dimensional picture of the inner Space-dock. There was an outer ring with stations for engineering, communications, science, tactical, and others. Two small steps lead down to the inner bridge, with the helm at the front and the command chair in the middle. On each side of the command chair was a marked space where guest chairs would materialize when needed.
Dax noticed Sagu sitting on the left side of the helm, a young female Deltan ensign to her right. Tahor occupied the tactical station in the outer ring. As soon as he noticed Dax, he jumped up and straightened himself. “Captain on the bridge,” he shouted.
Immediately, everyone rose to their feet, turned to Dax and straightened up.
“At ease,” Dax said. When everyone was seated, he turned to Tahor. “I hope that's not how I will be greeted every time I walk in here.”
Tahor nodded. “Aye, sir.”
“Good,” Dax said and stepped toward his command chair. “Commander Sagu, are we ready to depart?”
“All systems ready,” Sagu stated. “We have permission to clear the dock.”
“Alright, then.” Dax sat down in his chair, ran his fingers over the controls of the chair's arms. He swiveled around and took a good look at everyone. Finally facing the helm again, he said: “Let's get going. Aft thruster, full speed.”

Act 4

Serok entered the ready room of Captain Leroy. “You requested to see me, Captain?”
William Leroy looked up from the small screen on his desk and met the Vulcan´s eyes. “Sit down, Commander.” It was more order than invitation. When Serok was seated opposite to him, the captain started: “Half an hour ago, our long-range scanners have detected a space anomaly in the former Romulus system. We have orders to investigate.”
“Intriguing,” Serok said. “Could you be more specific on the subject?”
“Well, my science officer could explain better, you can ask him later on. He'd probably appreciate any suggestions you might have. For now, it seems that the location of this anomaly is exactly where the red-matter incident happened.”
“That incident created the anomaly which swallowed the Hobus nova responsible for the destruction of Romulus,” Serok remarked.
“That's the one,” Leroy replied.
“Sir, what about the ENTERPRISE? We were supposed to rendezvous with her in the Dimarek system.”
“Well,” Leroy said, “our plan has changed. We have already contacted the ENTERPRISE. She'll meet us at the anomaly.” He leaned forward. “Are you sure you want to get involved in this investigation? Considering it all goes back to the destruction of your home world.”
“I have to correct you, sir,” Serok replied. “Romulus is not my home world. I was born and raised on Luron VI and studied at Starfleet Academy on Earth. Romulus was destroyed long before my birth and can therefore not be my home.”
“Yeah, well, but your maternal family comes from Romulus, doesn't it?”
“And if you go back long enough, my maternal family also originated on Vulcan. I do not see your point.”
Leroy nodded. “You're definitely more Vulcan than Romulan, I give you that. Well, that's all, Commander. You're dismissed.”

Captain's Log, Stardate: 128729.1. Our rendezvous with the HERALD has been
relocated due to an anomaly detected in the Romulus area. There, the last remaining senior
officer of the ENTERPRISE will join us in the form of XO Serok. By his
own request, he will not only serve as my executive officer, but also as science officer.

“We are approaching the Romulus area, Captain,” Sagu announced.
Dax sat up straight. “How long till we will rendezvous with the HERALD?”
“Two hours, sir,” Sagu answered.
Peters, who stood next to the command chair, eyed the captain. “What's wrong, Jelon?”
“Just a little nervous,” Dax replied. “Maybe it isn't such a good idea of me working with another Vulcan ...”
“... considering how your last cooperation with a Vulcan ended,” the doctor finished. “Relax, Jelon. He's half Romulan. How bad can he be. Besides, this time you are in command.”
“You've got a point,” Dax said. “About that 'me in command' part, not the only half Vulcan part.”
“Come on, you just say that because you don't want to sound racist,” Peters teased.
“What, you got something against Vulcans?”
“Me? No. How could I? I've never really known a Vulcan.”
“Well, I have seen them, maybe examined one or two through the years,” Peters paused and sighed. “But, no, I've never actually learned to know one.”
“You're pulling my leg,” Dax protested. “You're a Starfleet medical officer, you must have worked with a Vulcan before.”
“Just didn't happen,” Peters said.
“What about the Academy? There must have been Vulcans attending your classes.”
“None I remember.”
“But they're born scientists.”
Peters smirked. “Sure, they're great scientists. Just not good physicians.”
“Now you sound racist.”
“It's true, though. I mean, have you ever heard of a Vulcan doctor?”
Dax thought about it. “I think I've read t there was a Vulcan medical officer on the EXCALIBUR once.”
“Right,” Peters said. “Once.”
“What about the Vulcan Medical Institute? Their work on memory restoration?”
Peters shrugged his shoulders. “Overrated.”
“You're really pulling my leg, aren't you?”
“Depends,” Peters replied. “Still nervous?”
“Feeling better.”

Ensign Sina stood in the living area of the Officer's quarters, which furniture seemed rather spartan, watching a sparkle of atoms coalescing into the form of a tall Vulcan male in a black Starfleet uniform and two standard Starfleet traveling bags. When the beaming process had ended she nodded smiling towards him. “Welcome aboard, Commander,” the young Deltan said. “I'm Ensign Sina.”
“Thank you, Ensign,” Serok replied, looking around . “These are my new quarters.”
It was a statement more than a question, but Sina still answered. “Yes, I hope they are to your satisfaction.”
“They are larger than I am used to,” Serok stated.
“If you want, I'll see if I can find quarters that are more to your liking,” Sina said hastily.
He looked at her. “No need, Ensign. I'll adjust.”
Sina nodded and motioned the commander to follow her into the bedroom. “You will find several uniforms of the new design in the closet. They should match your measurements.”
“I'm sure they will fit,” Serok said, noticing the Ensign's nervousness. “May I ask what your function on this ship is?”
The bald woman hesitated, groping for the right words. “My main post is navigator, but I am supplementing other departments from time to time. I still haven't decided which direction to go.”
“A generalist,” Serok noted. “It certainly has its benefits. Most captains are generalists.”
“Well, I'm far from being a captain,” Sina said, blushing.
“I did not say otherwise,” Serok replied.
The blushing turned to embarrassment, as the ensign realized that the Vulcan's comment was not meant as a compliment. “Yes, sir,” she said, trying not to let her emotions take control. “The captain asked to see you as soon as possible.”

Serok entered the captain's ready room. “You requested to see me, Captain?”
Dax looked up at the Vulcan, who was now wearing the new blue uniform. “Ah, yes. Commander Serok. Welcome aboard.”
“Thank you, Captain,” Serok said.
“Take a seat,” Dax waved to one of the chairs on the other side of his desk.
The commander followed the invitation.
Dax scratched his jaw. “You, uh, wanted to be both chief science officer and XO. You think you can handle both jobs at the same time?”
“If I didn't, I would not have applied for both positions,” Serok said calmly.
“Yes, of course,” the Trill said. “That would be the logical assumption, wouldn't it?”
If Serok noticed the humor of the captain's comment, he did not show. “Do you wish me to resign from one of these positions?”
“No,” Dax said quickly. “If you say you can handle it, I'll trust you on that. For now, anyway.” His fingers tapped the desk nervously. “Say, do you know any Vulcan physicians?”
Serok's face showed only the slightest surprise. “Sir?”
“Oh, never mind,” Dax said quickly. “So, what's this anomaly all about?”
“We witnessed an energy construct forming itself. Apparently, it has been doing this since the red matter was released to the Hobus nova, but it has just recently gained a magnitude that makes it detectable by our scanners. It is a most intriguing development, as both red matter and the anomaly causing the Hobus nova to take on its size are still rather mysterious to us, therefore we cannot tell if this new energy construct is a result of the red matter reacting to the Hobus anomaly or vice versa. There's also the possibility there is no connection at all, but it is logical to presume such a connection for the moment. As it is, the construct seems to take the form of a subspace matrix.”
“Subspace matrix,” Dax repeated. “Are you telling me that this construct is going to give birth to a wormhole?”
“It is a bit early to say, but it is quite possible,” the science officer answered. “Nonetheless, Captain Leroy is already planning to claim the proposed wormhole for the Federation.”
“Figures,” Dax said. “Wormholes are pretty valuable. The wormhole to the Gamma Quadrant made Bajor into a major player.”
“It could prove to be of great value, but even if there will be a wormhole, we cannot predict where it will lead.”
At that moment, they were interrupted by a siren and Sagu's voice over the intercom: “Red alert! Captain Dax to the bridge!”
Both Dax and Serok jumped to their feet and headed towards the door. Arriving on the bridge, Dax's eyes were fixed to the view-screen showing several Reman ships, a few of them were Scimitar-class Warbirds. „Status report,“ he requested, stepping to his chair without taking his eyes from the screen. Serok took over the science station.
“Twelve Reman ships, three of them Scimitar-class,” Tahor barked “They must have been around for some time now and just de-cloaked. Our shields and weapon systems are fully powered.”
“Someone open a frequency to the HERALD,” Dax ordered. “Someone else, hail the Remans, request their business here.”
“We receive a message from one of the Scimitars,” Tahor said.
“Play,” Dax said.
The holographic image of a Reman appeared on the viewscreen, a humanoid with black and blue skin, bald pate and bat-like eyes and ears. He began to speak in a dark, deep voice: “I am Viceroy Shonaz, speaking on behalf of Praetor Ziron. We claim the developing wormhole in the name of the Reman Star Empire.”

Act 5

Dax stood up from his command chair and stepped towards the holographic Reman. “The Reman Star Empire?” he repeated. But before he could ask any questions, the holographic figure of Captain Leroy appeared.
“This is Captain William Leroy of the Federation Starship HERALD,” he said in a very belligerent tone. “The Romulan sector is under protection of the Federation and therefore it is us who claim the wormhole. We will not surrender it, especially not to a government we don't even recognize.”
Dax tried to reason with them. “Please, we do not want this situation to escalate. Not prematurely, anyway.” The last part was meant for Leroy. “I propose we get together to talk this over.”
Leroy stared at Dax as if the Trill was a total idiot. “Talk this over? These are Remans, for god's sake.”
“Yes, they are,” Dax replied. “And this sector happens to be their home.”
The viceroy looked with a hint of surprise at Dax. “It seems there is at least one of you worthy talking to. I accept your offer to negotiate, but I am not so naïve as to go onboard a Federation vessel.”
“Okay, let's talk now,” Dax said quickly. To Leroy he said: “There's no sense in fighting them, Captain Leroy. They outnumber us by far.”
“Yes,” the viceroy called out. “We could defeat you in a matter of minutes.”
“If you'd do that, though,” Dax said to the viceroy, “The Federation would declare war in a minute, and you'd be overrun by Starfleet in a matter of days. That can't be in the best interest of the Reman Star Empire.”
Shonaz looked at Dax. He knew the Trill spoke the truth, but was too proud to admit it.
“As I said,” Leroy cut in, “this sector is under protection of the Federation.”
“And as I said,” Dax shot back, “this is their home. We cannot take this from them without abandoning the ideals on which the Federation was founded.”
“But we haven't recognized their government.”
“Nonetheless, it is there, and we have to deal with it.” He turned back to the Reman. “Still, the Remans have benefited from Federation presence. This whole sector would have become part of the Klingon Empire long ago, if it weren't for Starfleet patrolling the area. And the Klingons will come as soon as we leave the sector in your hand.”
“You propose we simply give it to you?”
“No,” Dax said, trying to think fast. Suddenly, an idea crossed his mind. “On the contrary, I propose a joint jurisdiction.”
Shonaz looked at him in total surprise. He seemed to think about it. “Remans and Federation working together?”
“This is a mistake,” Leroy said.
“Stuff it,” Dax simply said. “As far as I see, this is the only way to resolve this thing without starting a war.”
“There is truth in what you say,” the Reman admitted. “We will grant you access to the wormhole, if you will do the same for us.”
“Agreed,” Dax said.
“Starfleet will never stand for this,” Leroy said.
“Knowing the Admiral, I think it will,” Dax replied.

Two hours later, Dax's prognosis proved right. The HERALD was to stay with the energy construct, with two more Starships scheduled to arrive within the day. The ENTERPRISE, on the other hand, would continue her mission elsewhere.
“That was pretty darn close,” Peters said. “How the hell did you do that?”
Dax shrugged his shoulders. “I've got some experience in diplomacy. Well, my symbiont part does. I just hope it won't be for nothing and this construct will actually become a wormhole.”
“I believe it will, Captain,” Serok said. “If my calculations are correct, the transformation of the construct into a wormhole will be complete in 194 days.”
“Well,” Peters said, “gives you something to look forward to.”
“But that's in six months,” Dax said. “Until then, there's still a whole lot of space in our neighborhood we have yet to explore.”
“Really?” Peters looked at him in surprise. “I would have thought with thousands of ships over the last 300 years, we would have covered it by now.”
“Well, let me tell you something,” Dax said. “Space is big. Really big. You just won't believe how big it is. I mean, you may think it's a long way down the corridor to sickbay, but that's just peanuts compared to space.”
“I was afraid of that,” was Peters's replied drily.

Space. The Final Frontier.
These are the Voyages of a new Starship ENTERPRISE.
Her renewed Mission:
To explore strange new Worlds,
to seek out new Life
and new Civilizations,
to boldly go where no one has gone before,
and beyond.

Dear Readers,

What you've just read was the pilot episode of my new fan fiction series "Star Trek Beyond". But there are so many Star Trek fan fiction projects out there. What makes this one special?
It's the goal. “Star Trek Beyond” is what I think a new Star Trek TV series should be. While most fan fictions concern themselves with already existing characters, with the great political powers of the Federation, the Romulans, the Klingons, the Borg, and so forth, “Star Trek Beyond” is supposed to do, what made Star Trek special. Back to the roots while moving forward. When "Star Trek" began, there was no Trek universe. Only a starship and its crew, and a new, exciting adventure in every episode. Klingons, Romulans, the wars and the politics of the Federation all came later on. And I got the feeling the fandom and the franchise itself concerned itself more and more with the Trek universe and less and less with the concept of "Star Trek". And that's what I intend to change.
For this, I think, there is no need for a reboot. The original universe is fine, you just have to leave familiar grounds. The 24th century has been explored in three TV shows with seven seasons each, as well as countless novels, comics and (of course) fan projects. What I deemed necessary was a jump ahead, like the one between the original series and "The Next Generation". This also gave me the opportunity to mirror the change of course STB is intended to do to the franchise (in as much a way a fan fiction project can) thematically in the story. Starfleet has to renew itself, just like Star Trek has to. The return to the old concept, to the original ideals and the sense of wonder. It is time again, to boldly go where no one has gone before instead of returning to places where others have been before just to see of things have changed.
That's not to say there will be no story arcs in this new series. While (almost) every episode is supposed to be a story that stands on its own, the characters and the universe around them will develop and change. The pact between the Federation and the Remans will have consequences for the universe and for the characters themselves. And so will events later on in this series have consequences. No more reset button.
On the characters: It was my intention to recreate the classic trinity. It was neither accident nor lack of imagination Captain Dax, Commander Serok and Dr. Peters resemble Kirk, Spock and McCoy. It was a conscious creative decision. Because more than any other characters has this trinity symbolized the character of Star Trek. They themselves resemble the human psyche, and it is a concept that has proven itself. And yet, I did not want to do mere clones of the classic characters. There are great differences between these new characters and their predecessors which will be explored as the new series proceeds. And the other new characters are quite original and we will learn more about them, as well.
But there is still something missing. Part of what made the classic Star Trek great were all those different ideas explored, the diversity of the material. One writer alone can't do that.
And that's where you come in. My goal is not to be the single author of this project, but to become something of an executive producer or story editor, similar to how Joss Whedon worked on "Buffy" and "Firefly" or Russel T. Davies worked on "Doctor Who". While I will write the majority of season one, it's already a done deal that at least one episode will be written by someone else. So, if you want to participate, if you have an idea for an episode, send me a personal message and tell me about it. If I like it, the episode will be published and you'll get credit as its writer.
But do not send me finished episodes. Tell me your idea in few words, because I cannot guarantee you I'll take it. There is the possibility your idea contradicts my plans for the further course of the series. Maybe there is already an episode in the works that is too similar to your idea. And if I do want your idea to become an episode, I'll still have to give you instructions on how the story and character arcs will proceed and show themselves in your episode. It just makes more sense if you know these things before writing the episode itself, or major rewrites might be necessary.
This series will be published in English as its original language. there might be a German version later on, and if someone from other countries is interested in doing translations into their respective languages, contact me and I'm sure we can get this going.

I do hope you'll give this series a chance, both as a reader and a potential writer.
On to the final frontier, and beyond,
Kai Brauns
STAR TREK BEYOND The Pilot now online
Kai the spy
Beiträge: 66
Registriert: Mi 28. Jul 2010, 11:02
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Re: STAR TREK BEYOND (englisch)

Beitragvon Kai the spy » Do 2. Jun 2011, 19:15


Captain's Log, Stardate: 228781.18. We are headed to Kolan III.
The planet had been visited by Starfleet almost 200 years ago, but
otherwise, this world has been untouched by space-faring people.
The logs of the U.S.S. DYSON tell of no intelligent life-form,
but humanoid primates are populating all parts of the planet.
There was little else the DYSON could find out about the place back then,
and we intend to take a closer look.

From the moment Ensign Sina entered the engine room she was not able to take her eyes off the warp-core. The cylinder-shaped pillar in the middle of the room penetrated several decks of the secondary hull of the ENTERPRISE, and the energy pulsing through it was giving off blue light as it went. It was beautiful.

When she finally shook off the hypnotic effect it had on her, she looked around in the large, circular room. “Excuse me,” she approached a Cardassian crewman. “I am looking for Commander Benger. Could you help me out?”

The Cardassian nodded, and wordlessly pointed at a humanoid figure among several at the opposite end of the room.

“Thank you,” she smiled and headed towards the group of people wearing red uniform jackets. The nearer she came, the better she could make out the voices.

“Stabilize the Lexorian plating with the matter-antimatter torch!”

“Aye, sir!”

“The multi-isolinear conditioner is behaving abnormally. Briggs, look that up!”

“Aye, sir!”

“Okay, folks, that's it for now, let's get moving!”

The group scattered, leaving the young human who had given out the commands facing away from Sina, taking a deep breath.

“Commander Benger?” Sina said.

The man turned around and looked at her. “Yes?”

“I'm Ensign Sina,” she introduced herself. “You agreed to have me working in engineering this week.”

“I did? I mean, I did. Yes, right. Uh, so, do you have any experience?”

“Well, I've taken engineering courses at the academy, but I hadn't yet a chance to actually work in the area.”

“Right,” Benger said, staring absent-minded at her. When he caught himself doing that, he looked down and babbled: “So, maybe you should, uh, stick with me for the first day, watch me and … you know, I tell you what I'm doing.”

“Aye, sir,” she said.

“Oh, and you can stop doing that,” Benger laughed nervously. “In engineering we keep things, you know, casual. Just call me Achim.”

Sina raised her eye-brows. “But I thought I heard those people just now referring to you as 'sir'.”

“Oh, that,” Benger said, trying and failing to hide that he had been caught lying. “Well, … uh, they're all … new around here.”

Sina couldn't help but smile. The man sure was cute, trying to hide his affection.

“Okay, listen, to be honest, I'm not good at this, and, yes, I made this casual thing up. So, if you're more comfortable keeping things formal, we can do that, but ...”

“It's alright,” Sina said. “Achim it is.”

Benger seemed to glow at her answer. She certainly made his day.

Suddenly, he was distracted by a beeping sound on the terminal behind him. “The tetryon subspace sensor is collapsing,” he said. “Kacke, verdammte! I tell you, Sina, sometimes these damned things seem to have a mind of their own.”


Dax looked at the green and blue planet showing on the main view-screen. “Nice place,” he said. “Serok, what are the sensors telling?”

“The planet is largely as described in the DYSON's logs,” the Vulcan said without taking his eyes from his displays and screens. “Class M, breathable atmosphere, gravity at 0.8 G.” He paused, looking puzzled at the readings on his display. “But I am detecting several energy hot spots around the planet, surrounded by large quantities of bio-signals.”

“You mean, like power-plants near cities?”

“Very similar,” Serok said, “but it contradicts what we know about Kolan III.”

“Captain,” Tahor called. “We're being hailed.”

Dax looked from Serok to Tahor to the view-screen. “Hailed by whom?”

Space. The Final Frontier.
These are the Voyages of a new Starship ENTERPRISE.
It's renewed Mission: To explore strange new Worlds,
to seek out new Life
and new Civilizations,
to boldly go where no one has gone before,
and beyond.

“A Mind of Their Own.”
written by Kai Brauns
Consultant: Uwe Heinzmann

Act I

Everybody on the bridge stared at the main view-screen, that now showing the low-definition image of a humanoid alien. It was rather furry, with large eyes looking back at them. “Welcome to Kolan III, strange visitors. My name is Orak, and I am the leader of the Kolanian people.”

Dax was still stunned, but gathered himself quickly. “I am Captain Jelon Dax of the Federation Starship ENTERPRISE. You must excuse our surprise, we didn't expect to find a civilization on this planet.”

Orak seemed to smile with his thin wide lips. “It is excused, as I am sure there will be misunderstandings on our side as well. I would like to welcome you on our planet itself, Captain Dax.”

The Trill glanced at his first officer. He could almost hear the upcoming discussion in his head. Nonetheless, he acted on his instinct. “We would be honored to visit your world, Orak,” Dax said. “Please, send us the coordinates for our landing. If you have no objections, we will arrive in three hours.”

Orak nodded. “That will be quite alright, Captain. I am looking forward to meeting you in person.”
After the image disappeared from the view-screen, Dax glanced over his shoulder to Lieutenant Tahor, who nodded. They were receiving the coordinates.

“Captain,” Serok said. “May I have a talk with you?”

Great, thought Dax, here it comes! “Sure,” he said and turned to enter his ready room. When the door slid shut behind him and the Vulcan, he turned to face the inevitable argument.

“Captain, you know, of course, that contact with the Kolanians is a violation of the Prime Directive.”

“Yeah, well, they contacted us,” countered Dax. “As a matter of fact, they knew of us before we knew of them.”

“This is a highly delicate situation, sir,” Serok said. “It might be for the best to leave this planet behind now and have Starfleet send a team of experts to study the Kolanians in secret.”

“They already know of us, Serok,” Dax argued. “And there is no way of telling how future relations with these people may be hurt by us breaking our promise to visit. We wouldn't want to alienate a potential ally, would we?”

“Captain,” Serok said. “May I remind you that this civilization is completely foreign to us. We don't know anything about their customs and their possible agendas, not to mention the fact that this civilization wasn't even existent two centuries ago.”

“They sure are a mystery,” Dax said, smiling. “Come on, Serok, this kind of stuff is what we are here for. A strange new world, a new civilization, a planet and its mystery. That's what our mission is all about.”

“It is also a first contact situation, which is always difficult.”

“Listen,” said Dax. “One of my former hosts was Curzon Dax, one of the finest diplomats of the Federation. Two other former hosts were Starfleet officers, one of them a Science Officer. Believe me, I know how to handle a first contact.”

“So, you will go down to the planet?”

“What, am I talking to a wall or something?” Dax smirked. “Yes, Commander, I will go down to the planet. And you will accompany me.”


“Remind me again,” Dr. Peters requested as he and the captain walked down the corridor, “why am I accompanying you down to an unknown planet with a civilization we know nothing about?”

“Because we are going down to an unknown planet with a civilization we know nothing about,” Dax answered. “There could be unknown bacteria or something like that down there, and it would be good to have you with us, should something happen to one of us.”

“And if that one of us would be me, then what?”

Dax hesitated. “Then we're screwed? I don't know, Serok will be with us, so he could help you out.”

“Oh, great,” Peters said sarcastically. “And this after our little talk about Vulcan medical officers.”

“Will you shut up? There's gotta be plenty of Vulcan physicians. Otherwise, Vulcans would have been extinct long ago.”

“Well, at least you understand the importance of good doctors.” Peters realized something. “Wait a minute, we're walking towards the shuttle bay.”

Dax looked puzzled at his friend. “Uh, yeah. Where else would we go?”

“I don't know, I just thought we would beam down there.”

“Can't have the Kolanians know that we have this kind of technology. You know the Prime Directive, we are not to interfere with the natural development of this civilization.”

“Not more than necessary, you mean,” Peters said. “Or else, we wouldn't even go down there.”

“Stop it,” Dax warned him. “I already had this discussion once, I don't want to repeat myself.”

They arrived at the shuttle bay, where Serok and Tahor were preparing one of the shuttles for launch.

“Oh, great, the Vulcan is here,” Peters said. “He's weird, you know.”

“How is he weird?”

“You know, he's all logic and stuff.”

“You're right,” Dax smirked. “Logic is so weird.”

“Is it your intention to annoy me? Because it's working.”

“Captain,” Serok greeted Dax when they approached. “We are ready to launch, and we are expected in twenty minutes down on Kolan III.”

“Kolan III?” Peters repeated in feigned surprise. “And I thought we'd go visit the Museum of post-modern Arts.”

“What are you doing?” Dax asked the doctor.

“If you're annoying me, I go ahead and annoy the Vulcan.”

“Yeah, well, annoying is about all you are.”

“Oh, really,” Peters replied. “Cause if you want, I could stay here.”

“You wish.”

“If you are ready,” Serok cut in, “we should get on our way, Captain.”

“Alright,” Dax said, pushing Peters to the entrance of the shuttle.

Serok and Dax sat in the first row of the cockpit, with Tahor and Peters sitting behind them. The Vulcan took the helm. “Weather is clear, we should arrive in approximately eighteen minutes.”

“Are you going to do a countdown till we're landing?” Peters asked sarcastically.

“I could do a countdown, Doctor,” Serok answered seriously. “Though I could not guarantee for us to land exactly on Zero.”

“Leave it, Doc,” Dax said before Peters could further pick on the first officer.

Without further comment, the shuttle launched into space and dived this strange new world.

Act II

“I don't get it,” complained Benger. “There's nothing wrong with the hardware. The tetryon subspace sensor must be affected by something else.”

Sina observed his actions closely. “Maybe there's a virus?”

“Running the search program,” the engineer said, looking down at the display. “It's a negative. Scheibenkleister, there must be some outside problem interfering with the sensor's functions.”

“Like radiation?”

“Like radiation,” Benger confirmed. Just then, he realized what they were talking about. “Like radiation,” he repeated. “Benger to bridge,” he called for the ship's intercom. “Could you do a scan for radiation? Something on a tetryon subspace level?”

“This is the bridge,” answered the voice of Commander Sagu. “We're trying, but without the sensor actually calibrated for that, I can't promise anything.”

“Thank you,” Benger said. “Engineering out.” He smiled at Sina. “Good thinking, Ensign.”


Dax stepped out of the shuttle and onto the ground. He couldn't help but think that no Starfleet officer had set foot on this planet for two centuries. But right now, he had to focus on the Kolanians surrounding him with astonished looks in their eyes. At least, they seemed astonished. Dax couldn't really tell, since he did not know anything about these people.

“Welcome Captain,” a familiar looking Kolanian in a fine robe called. “I hope your descent was without trouble.”

“It was fine,” Dax answered with an honest smile. “Thank you. And these,” he turned and nodded towards the other members of the away team, “are my crew, Commander Serok, Dr. Peters and Lieutenant Tahor.”

“You are also welcome to us,” said the Kolanian, who Dax figured was Orak. “Please, accompany us to our festivities.” He motioned the Starfleet officers towards the steps to the large building behind him. They all entered, finding themselves in a spacious hall decorated with flowers and a long table. When they had had taken seat on the chairs at the table, food and drink was offered, and a group of Kolanians started a strange dance. Dax noticed Tahor closely observing the scene, while Peters was obviously overrun by all the impressions.

“How do you like the fruits, Captain?” Orak asked after Dax had tasted a round something looking like a yellow apple.

“This one's very good,” Dax said. “Thank you.”

“They are called 'Alairs',” the furry humanoid explained. “They originate from Balsor, the south-western continent. If you wish, we could offer you a box of them when you are going to leave us.”

“That is quite generous of you, Leader,” Dax said. “Especially since I can't give you anything in return.”

“Oh, that's alright,” Orak said. “They will be a gift. But,” he said thoughtfully, “why exactly is it you cannot give us anything? I mean, as a space-faring people, it can't possibly be for material reasons.”

“Your logic is correct,” Serok said. “The reason is of ethical matter. Our highest rule forbids us to interfere with the natural development of other civilizations less advanced than our own.”

“That's right,” Dax confirmed. “He didn't even want to come. I had to almost drag him down here.”
Orak did not laugh, but looked rather puzzled. “I don't understand.”

“It was a joke. I exaggerated for humorous reasons.”

“No, I understand that,” Orak said. “But this rule of yours … Is it a young rule?”

“The Prime Directive is more than 280 years old,” Serok said.

“But, Lancaster didn't follow this rule,” Orak said.

Dax glanced at his first officer and back at the Kolanian. “Lancaster?”

“Yes,” Orak replied. “He came to us, helped us shape our society, taught us science and language. He was one like you.”

“The name does suggest an Earth origin,” Serok stated.

“Wait,” Peters, who had overheard the conversation up till now, cut in. “He taught you language? Does that mean you are speaking English?”

“Yes,” Orak answered. “Don't we all?”

“All but Tahor, Serok and me, it seems,” Dax said. “We're using a translating device we always carry with us. Tell us more about this Lancaster.”

Orak gathered his thoughts. “Well, he came to us about one and a half centuries ago. We had just done what he called an evolutionary leap, we had just mastered conscious thought. Before that, we were merely animals.”

“And this Lancaster came and taught you communicating and how to build your civilization,” Dax gathered.

“But that is impossible,” Serok protested. “Evolution is a slow process. An evolutionary leap as you describe it is an unprecedented event in the known history of our galaxy.”

“What happened to Lancaster?” asked Dax.

“He stayed with us,” Orak began, “for about twenty years. When he grew old, he went into the forbidden zone.”

Dax raised his eyebrows. “You have a forbidden zone?”

“Yes,” answered Orak. “It is in the forest of Woldey on the mid-northern continent.”
The captain glanced at Serok. They knew what to do now.


The bridge was dark, as main power was needed for the cloaking device. They just sat there and waited.

“naDev qaS wanl' ramqu,” one of them complained another.

“bljatlh 'e' ylmev,” the one in the commanding chair shot back.

After that, there was silence again, and they continued to wait.


After the ceremony, the Starfleet officers returned to their shuttle. “We will stay in orbit for the time being,” Dax said to Orak. “We will visit you again tomorrow.”

“And you will be as welcome then as you were today,” Orak said, forming a smile with his thin lips.
When Dax sat down in the cockpit, he looked at Serok. “Okay, let's find this forbidden zone.”

“Do I have to come?” asked Peters.

“It'll be night soon,” replied Dax. “I want to get there as soon as possible, so we'll fly there directly.”

“What do you expect to find in this forbidden zone, anyway,” the doctor inquired.

Dax turned his seat to meet Peters's eye. “Are you kidding? It's a forbidden zone on a planet with a great mystery. It's so cliché, they could have as well put out a sign reading 'This way to the answer of the great mystery'.”

“It does resemble similar cases on planets like Gamma Trianguli VI and New Yadera,” Serok noted.
“Still, if it's a forbidden zone, it probably is against the local law to enter it,” Peters countered. “Won't we risk our new friendship with the Kolanians by going there?”

“We have to find out more about this Lancaster,” Dax said. “He was a citizen of the Federation and therefore bound by the Prime Directive. He has violated it, so we have to learn more about it.”

“And what then?”

It was Serok who answered: “Standard procedures, Doctor, would be to remedy the damage as best as possible.”

“I'm not sure 'damage' is the right word,” Peters commented. “And how do you reverse changes of such massive proportions, anyway?”

Neither Dax nor Serok could answer this question.


Lieutenant Commander Sagu stood at the science station and looked at the sensor readings on the display. “Sagu to Benger,” she called. “You were right, there is some odd radiation on the tetryon subspace level. Nothing seriously damaging, just interfering with tetryons.”

“Good to hear,” came Benger's answer. “Know anything about this radiation?”

“Well,” Sagu said, “apparently it originates the planet. The whole planet is radiated. As to the nature of it all, I'll get back to you. Sagu out.”

Back in the engine room, Benger looked at Sina. “Looks like you had the right idea. God knows how much time I would have wasted if it weren't for you.”

“Oh, I'm sure you would have thought of it yourself pretty quickly,” the ensign replied, turning back to the console, pretending to study the display.

“Yeah, well, thanks, anyway.” Benger looked at the chronometer. “Almost lunch time.” He looked back at the attractive young Deltan. Gathering all the courage he had, he asked: “Listen, would you like to join me? For lunch, I mean.”

Sina bit her lower lip. She knew where this was going to lead, and she could not allow it. She wasn't allowed to. “I don't think this is a good idea,” she said, almost whispering.

Benger tried to cover it, but he was obviously crushed. “Well,” he said, pausing awkwardly afterwards. “I guess, I'll … see you later.”

When Sina felt him rush to the exit, she tried to keep her emotions in order. But finally, before the chief engineer had reached the corridor, she turned and called: “Achim!”

He stopped and turned to look at her.

She noticed the people around looking, so she stepped up to him. “Listen, I really can't. I'd like to, but I just can't.”

“All I asked was if you'd like to have lunch with me,” the man said.

“No,” Sina disagreed. “It was not all you asked.”

There was a silence following. Finally, Sina walked past Achim, just in time before breaking into tears.


The shuttle had just arrived at the Woldey forest, when Sagu contacted them. “Sir, we have detected unknown radiation all over the planet interfering with our tetryon subspace sensor.”

Dax sighed. “What about it?”

“It does not seem dangerous, but it originates from the forest you are headed to.”

Serok raised an eyebrow. “I'd like the data on this radiation sent to us,” he said.

“Aye, sir,” Sagu replied. “ENTERPRISE out.”

Serok looked at the captain. “Intriguing,” he said, expressing his curiosity. “A mysterious radiation originating from the forbidden zone.”

“There must be a connection,” Dax mused.

“Not necessarily,” Serok stated. “It could be a coincidence.”

“He didn't mean it figuratively,” replied Peters. “But, seriously, I'm not a fan of the idea of going there, but even I am intrigued.”

They landed in a clearing, and Serok used his tricorder to scan for the radiation. He led the way until they found the overgrown wreck of an old Earth spaceship.

“I'll be damned,” Peters said.

“It is a private one-man cruiser,” noted Serok. “Approximately 230 years old.”

“I remember those,” Dax said. “A friend of mine had one back then.”

“That's the worm inside you speaking,” Peters commented.

“Let me go first,” Tahor said, pulling his phaser and walking towards the thick entrance door. After several minutes Tahor used to work on the mechanism, the door finally opened.

The inside of the ship smelled old, foul, dusty. They brandished their flashlights and went into the dark. At the center of the ship, they found a large, pulsing device.

“Sir, this is the origin of the radiation,” S'rok stated, reading his tricorder.

“But what is its purpose?” Dax wanted to know.

“Look,” Peters called and flashed his light into the next room. It was the living quarters, and on the bed lied a mummified human corpse. “I guess, that's Lancaster.”

“Get a DNA sample, so we can check his ID back on the ENTERPRISE,” Dax ordered.

“To get back to your question,” Serok cut in, “the device's only function seems to be the emanation of the radiation.”

“So the real question is, what's the purpose of the radiation,” Dax said.

“Exactly,” Serok confirmed. “There are multiple possibilities, but for the moment, it would be pure speculation. If we could redirect power from my tricorder to the ship's computer, maybe we could learn more about the device.”

“Alright,” Dax consented. “Go ahead.”

Serok wired the tricorder to a nearby computer station. The lights on the station went on and he addressed the the board computer: “Computer, identify the device in the center of the room.”
The computer's voice began to speak: “This device is a Lancaster radiation transmitter.”

“Request information on Lancaster radiation,” Serok continued.

“Lancaster radiation was discovered by Dr. Jonathan R. Lancaster on Stardate 83856.3 during his exploration of the tetryon subspace. On Stardate 84241.7, Dr. Lancaster's ship crash-landed on the planet on Kolan III, where Dr. Lancaster discovered that the Lancaster radiation had a stimulating effect on the brain activity of the dominant primate species, transforming them into an intelligent life-form.”

“Stop,” Dax said. He had to process this. “This evolutionary leap Orak told us about ...”

“Yes, Captain,” Serok confirmed. “It seems that it was artificially created.”

Act IV

“Radiation creating intelligence in a primal species,” Peters repeated to himself. “How is that possible?”

“Well, Doctor,” Serok began, but before he could continue, Peters cut in: “It was a rhetorical question, Serok. I don't really want you to bore me with the details.” He glanced at the captain. “So, Jelon, what are we going to do?”

“Obviously, we have to shut the device off,” Serok stated.

“I was asking the captain,” Peters protested. “Besides, what would that help?”

“It would return the Kolanians to their natural state.”

“You mean, we would retard their intelligence,” Peters said. “You can't be serious.”

“Vulcans are not known for humor, Doctor,” Serok replied. “The Prime Directive has been violated by Dr. Lancaster, and we can undo the damage by simply turning off his radiation transmitter.”

“Prime Directive, my ass,” Peters said, raising his voice. “We are talking about an entire civilization. Goddammit, we'd practically commit genocide.”

“As there will be no lives lost, Doctor, it will hardly be genocide.”

“Jelon, you talk some sense into this damned emotionless bonehead,” Peters demanded.

Dax sighed. “You're right, Serok.”

Peters stared in shock at the captain. “You gotta be kidding.”

“Let me finish, Doc,” Dax said. “Serok is right about the Prime Directive. But it's not that easy. The Prime Directive is supposed to protect other civilizations, not destroy them.”

“I agree, Captain,” Serok replied. “Nonetheless, the intelligence of the Kolanians goes against their natural state. They could develop intelligence in the future, and they could create their civilization and culture on their own without the interference of a human teacher. If we don't shut the transmitter off, we will deprive them of that opportunity.”

“You are such a hypocrite,” Peters accused the commander. “The Vulcan society was largely influenced by one individual, Surak. He taught the Vulcans, who until then were a wild and aggressive people, the ways of logic and peace. Tell me, Serok, what if Surak would not have been a Vulcan himself? Would you reverse the whole development of Vulcan civilization since then? Would you go back to being a wild and aggressive race on the brink of destroying itself?”

“You're hypothesis is irrelevant, Doctor, since Surak was a Vulcan. To consider the options had he been not is of purely speculative nature.”

There was thoughtful silence in the room. “I need time to think about this,” Dax decided. “Serok, Tahor, you two stay here. And don't shut the device off without my specific order. Doc, you and I return to the ENTERPRISE.”


Sina sat on her bed, with her arms around her legs and her head on her knees, staring into nothingness. She couldn't do what she wanted to do. She was not allowed. She would be risking her career, her life in Starfleet. But she wanted it. Badly.


“Talk about brainwashing people,” Peters said before gulping down the last of the Saurian Brandy in his glass.

“But what is the brainwashing here?” Dax asked, reclining on the couch of his quarters. “Isn't it really the Lancaster radiation that's altering the Kolanian's natural state of mind?”

“Well,” Peters said while pouring some more, “maybe in the strictest sense, yeah. Then again, did it hurt them?”

“I don't know,” Dax said. “Damn, how can I ever make such a decision?”
Doc emptied his glass again. “Indeed,” he said glancing knowingly at Dax.

Act V

Captain's log, supplementary. I have decided not to make a decision,
but to give the Kolanians themselves the chance to decide over their own fate.
For this, I have visited Orak again and told him about the Lancaster radiation transmitter.

“I am still shocked, Captain,” the Kolanian said. “To think that our intelligence is the product of artificially created radiation ...”

“I know,” Dax said sympathetically. “You have to get your head around this one.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Nothing,” the Trill said. “Just an expression. You know what to do, yet?”

Orak sat back. “You were right not to make this decision for us. This decision is too big even for myself. We have to ask the people of Kolan III. All of them. We all have to decide together.”

“And what will you vote for?” Dax asked.

Orak sighed. “If you had the choice of being a mindless animal or a sentient being, what would you decide, Captain?”

Dax thought for a moment. “You know, I might envy animals from time to time, not having a care in the world, not having to plan ahead, just living the moment. But, at the end of the day, I aspire to be more than I am now, not less.”

Orak nodded. “Thank you, Captain.”


Starting his day's shift, Benger gave his daily round of orders.

“Briggs, calibrate the directional magnaspanner with synaptic chip!”

“Aye, sir!”

“Arden, there's a flaw in the auxiliary gel packs, get that, will ya?”

“Aye, sir!”

Finally, he had a moment to catch his breath, until he suddenly heard a familiar voice behind him.

“Ensign Sina reporting for duty!”

He turned around and looked at the the bald-headed woman's beautiful face . “Sina!”

“And,” she continued, less than sure of herself, “maybe we could have lunch together? Just lunch.”

Benger sighed. “You're late.”

Worry showed in Sina's face. “I am?”

Benger smirked. “But better late than never.”

The worry disappeared and Sina began to smile back at him.


“I still disagree with your decision, Captain,” Serok stated.

“Duly noted,” Dax replied, sitting down in his command chair. “But artificial or not, the Kolanians do have a mind of their own. What better use for it than to make the most essential decision possible.” He paused. “Commander Sagu, I think we're due in the Nora system. Transwarp factor 1.2!”

“Aye, sir,” Sagu confirmed.

The ENTERPRISE accelerated and jumped out of the Kolan system.


The figure sitting at the sensors called out onto the dark bridge: “veSDuj!”

“'Iv?” the one in the command chair demanded to know.

“Reman,” was the answer.


The main view-screen showed the image of a Reman Warbird.


The holographic image of a Reman appeared before the view-screen. “Commander Krogh,” the Reman said. “I am Commander Nozan. So, you followed my invitation.”

“What do you want?” asked the Klingon commander.

“You may have heard about the developing wormhole in the former Romulus system.” Nozan said. “The Praetor has decided to work with the Federation to use it. An unpopular decision, I might add.”

“So what?”

“So I heard that you are dissatisfied with the state of the Klingon Empire,” Nozan continued. “You want to go back to conquering other worlds. I propose an alliance. We could get rid of our respective leaders, go to war with the Federation and take what they only want to share.”

“Why should I work with Reman scum on an act of treason?”

“Because, luckily,” Nozan said, “we don't rely on our leaders to think for us.”
Don't miss next month's episode: "To Serve And Trust in Space"
STAR TREK BEYOND The Pilot now online
Kai the spy
Beiträge: 66
Registriert: Mi 28. Jul 2010, 11:02
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Re: STAR TREK BEYOND (englisch)

Beitragvon Kai the spy » So 3. Jul 2011, 14:22


The bald-headed beauty shifted slightly in her seat and continued her story: “Then he said 'A generalist. Most captains are generalists'. I just said 'Thanks, but I'm far from
being a captain', and then he replied 'I didn't say otherwise'.”

“Ooh,” said Benger, mimicking a painful groan. “That hurts. What did you answer?”

“What could I answer?” Sina asked rhetorically. “I couldn't actually tell him that he was rude. He's first officer, I'm a simple ensign. Of course, eventually I realized that he didn't intend to be rude. I should have known better than to expect a compliment from a Vulcan.”

“Well, I hear he's not a purebred Vulcan,” the engineer muttered. “He's actually half-Romulan, who doesn't even know his father. As far as I've heard, he grew up in a Romulan colony. I wonder how someone being raised in such an environment could turn towards Vulcan philosophy. But don't quote me on that.”

“I wouldn't recommend it, either.” A the familiar voice made them turn their heads and look up to Lieutenant Commander Sagu, who reproved of them in a playful way. “Gossiping about senior officers is not considered good behavior.”

“Well, uh,” Benger stuttered, trying to salvage the situation. “I didn't intend to spread any rumors, I, uh, … merely quoted them.”

“I see,” Sagu said. “Well, I still don't recommend continuing. You never know who's listening in.”

“Point taken,” Benger said remorsefully. He hated being disciplined in front of Sina, but he tried not to let it show. Unsuccessfully.

Sagu gave a calming smile. “Well, I won't tell anyone.” While moving on towards the panoramic windows showing the stars going by she spotted a lonely figure sitting at a table. It was Lieutenant Tahor, staring into his drink. On an impulse, she seated herself in the chair opposite to him and asked: “What are you having?”

Tahor looked up, suppressing his irritation. “Andorian ale,” he answered sharply, watching the woman with suspicious eyes.

“A little piece of home,” Sagu commented.

“So to speak. I prefer the beverages of my own people.”

“How's that?”

“Maybe I should rephrase. I trust the beverages of my own people.”

Sagu raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Meaning you don't trust what other people drink?”

“What would you have me drink, Commander?”

Sagu thought. “Well, maybe some kanar?”

Tahor's antennae turned sideways. “Do you realize how often kanar was used to poison someone?”

“Please, Lieutenant, that was ages ago. The Cardassians have come a long way.”

“Maybe so,” Tahor replied. “But their kanar has not.”

“So, you don't trust alien drinks. What about food?”

“I don't trust alien food, either.”

“What, so you limit yourself to cabbage soup and tubor roots?”

“Commander, Andorian cuisine has more to offer than that. And I can trust that cuisine.”

“Can you trust Andorian fast food?”

Tahor stared the human woman in the eyes. “More so than Earth fast food.”


Commander Serok checked the sensor readings. Currently, there were no signs of anything out of the ordinary in sensor scan range. The current course of the ENTERPRISE promised to be rather uneventful. Serok definitely hoped so, considering how flexible the captain was interpreting Starfleet regulations.

At this moment, same captain entered the bridge, accompanied by the disgruntled figure of Dr. Peters. Even though they were trying their best not to disturb the crew with their chat, Serok could understand every word they were whispering.

“You should have seen the man's face when I told him about the eggs,” Peters said. “He had picked them up while he had gotten a foot massage when he was traveling Jomaen IV.”

“Yes, the difficulties of intercultural misunderstandings. Never get a foot massage from a Jomae in heat. That's why I prefer Risa for shore leave.” Addressing Serok, the captain spoke louder: “Status report.”

“Nothing out of the ordinary, Captain,” the Vulcan reported.

“Nothing?” Captain Dax fell back into his command chair, while the doctor waited for one of the two optional guest chairs to to be replicated on the right of his commanding officer. “Man, it's about time for today's log entry. It's a whole month without anything interesting happening. Starfleet deployed us to find something new, after all.”

Peters sat down on the guest chair and turned to his friend. “Weren't you the one telling me that space was big?”


“Well, I guess, if it's that big, it's tiny secrets will take their time to discover, won't they?”

Serok's attention was redirected by the beeping sound indicating a sensor alarm. He quickly checked the display, and what he found was indeed quite alarming. “Ship decloaking, Captain,” he reported.

Dax immediately straightened up. “Yellow Alert. On screen,” he commanded.

Serok followed the order and a moment later the large view-screen showed the underbelly of a spaceship. It was too large to fit on the screen without scaling down.

“Zoom out a bit,” Dax said. After Serok had complied, the captain recognized the ship's circular structure. “Commander, give me the scale on that.”

The Vulcan checked the sensor readings. “The unidentified vessel is 20,000 kilometres in horizontal diameter and has a height of 5,000 kilometres at its thickest point.”

Dr. Peters stood up and stepped to Dax's side. “Just when we were talking the size of things.”

Space. The Final Frontier.
These are the Voyages of a new Starship ENTERPRISE.
It's renewed Mission: To explore strange new Worlds,
to seek out new Life
and new Civilizations,
to boldly go where no one has gone before,
and beyond.

“To Serve and Trust in Space”
written by Kai Brauns
Consultant: Uwe Heinzmann

Act I

Almost everybody's eyes were fixed on the karge ship showing on the main view-screen. Except Serok's. While everyone else was awestruck, the Vulcan relayed the sensor readings in a monotonous voice:

“We are facing the ships underbelly, which is relatively flat compared to the top. The vessel is running on impulse, no warp engines detected. Despite that, the aliens seem to be highly advanced in sensor technologies, life support and reflectors, as well as the previously demonstrated cloaking. I scan at least 7,000 lifeforms half of which belong to one species, the rest is more diverse. I also detect a large amount of plant life.”

“Wait a second,” Peters said, having a hard time taking his eyes off the screen. “No warp engines? Are you suggesting this aliens are traveling through space just on impulse?”

“While there is a small chance our sensors can't find their warp engines or an equivalent in FTL technology, it is quite unlikely. So, to answer your question, yes, the alien ship seems to have no FTL engines. Adding this to the other data I have just read to you, it seems to be an ark.”

Now, Dax turned to his science officer. “An ark,” he repeated, his excitement quite visible.

“In all likelihood, Captain,” Serok replied. “An ark, or generation ship, is a way of slower than light interstellar travel. As such a voyage is taking decades, centuries or even millennia, the ship requires plants to supply breathable air as well as food, for which animal lifeforms may also be used. The ship's crew would reproduce during the voyage and the offspring grow up to take their parents' place, hence the term 'generation ship'. However, there are very few recorded encounters with such vessels, as most other space-faring civilizations would either eventually create warp engines, or send off ships with its biologic passengers in cryogenic stasis.”

“I sometimes have a problem with insomnia,” said Peters. “Would you mind if I called you up on such occasions to give me another lecture like that?”

“As the ship's chief medical officer, shouldn't you be able to cure yourself of this problem without my help?” countered Serok.

“Cut it out,” Dax interrupted them. “So this ship is from a civilization without faster-than-light technology. Does the Prime Directive apply?”

“Technically, yes,” Serok said. “While they seem to be even more advanced than our civilization in regard to some technologies, they have in all likelihood never encountered another civilization before.”

“That would make contact with them delicate, but not a violation of the Prime Directive,” replied Dax. “What would set this case apart from any other first contact situation?”

Serok thought for a moment. “The social structure of a generation ship like this is likely to be very sensible. The nearest M-class planet is 14.6 lightyears away, so they have been going for at least 15 years, but there is no way of knowing from which direction they came, so they very well could have been in space even longer than that. To confront them now with the fact that there is a way of traveling faster than the speed of light would also face them with the conclusion that their enduring travel on this ship was in vain.”

“We should keep our transwarp engines a secret,” Peters suggested.

“But then we'd have to explain why our ship is so small compared to theirs,” Serok dismissed the idea. “Also, their sensors are more advanced than ours, so they probably already know of our technology.”

“In that case, they already know of the existence of FTL,” Dax said.

For a second, Dax thought he saw puzzlement in Serok's face, but it was gone very quickly. “A logical conclusion.”

“Then we can make contact,” Dax beamed.

“Not necessarily,” Serok said. “As I said, their sensors probably have analysed our technology by now, but this is a presumption, not a fact.”

“What's the matter, Serok?” Peters wanted to know. “You seem to be bend on us not making contact.”

“On the contrary,” Serok replied, “I suspect that you and the Captain are a little too eager to make contact. Haven't I heard the captain complain about a lack of excitement just a few minutes ago?”
Dax looked surprised at his first officer.

“Of course,” the Vulcan added, “this is also just a presumption on my part.”

Peters sighed. “I guess, at least one of you will have to act on one of those presumptions. A decision has to be made.”

“Sir,” called Tahor who had arrived shortly after the yellow alert was given. “We are being hailed by the alien ship.”

“So much for a decision,” Dax said dryly. He stepped to the front of the bridge. “Play!”

The holographic image of an alien appeared in front of the captain. It looked like a red-skinned reptilian. The bipedal body was almost humanoid, but it was bent forward with a tail giving balance. Its elongated head was crowned by several tiny horns. “We greet the alien ship,” said the reptilian. “This is Chancellor Loary of the Eelar tribe. Please, identify yourself.”

Dax straightened up. “I'm Captain Jelon Dax of the Federation Starship ENTERPRISE. We are on a peaceful mission of exploration.”

“Explorers, I see,” said Loary. “Captain, I'd be delighted to welcome you aboard our ship. We could learn much from each other.”

Dax beamed. “It would be my pleasure, Mister Chancellor.”

“Do you have a way of transportation? A shuttlecraft, perhaps? Otherwise, we could pick you up.”
“No need, sir, we do have shuttlecrafts. Thank you, nonetheless.”

“Good,” said the chancellor. “We expect you in thirtyfour minutes.”

The hologram disappeared and Dax turned around to Serok. “Looks like the two of us have a date with the head of an alien civilization.”

“The two of us?” Serok repeated.

“Well, you seem worried about keeping in check with the Prime Directive,” Dax said. “So I'm willing to take you along as my watchdog on this matter.”

Serok stood up. “Very well, Captain.”

Dax turned to Sagu. “Commander, you have the con.”


The chancellor turned towards Gon, his advisor. “Do we have complete scans of their technology?”

“Not yet,” answered Gon. “Some of it is quite complex, some is unknown to us. Their energy core is surrounded by a forcefield impenetrable to our sensors.”

“How long will it take?”

“Maybe another 53 minutes.”

“Good,” said the chancellor. “And let's keep this on our level. Don't let word of the alien ship get out. We don't want to take any risk.”

Act II

Dax and Serok debarked of the shuttle, followed by crewmen Oskar and Gregory. They were greeted by the chancellor and nine other reptilians.

“Welcome on Eelar Seven, Captain Dax,” said the chancellor. “It is most exciting to meet you in person.”

Dax quickly adjusted to the obviously different customs. “Exciting indeed, Mister Chancellor.” The Trill adumbrated a bow, hoping not to insult the reptilian by doing so. When Loary did not protest, Dax began to introduce his companions. “This is my second-in-command, Lieutenant Commander Serok.”

“You are from different continents,” suggested Loary.

Serok raised an eyebrow.

“I beg your pardon?”

“The two of you look physically different from one another,” noted Loary. “You, Captain, have these interesting dots, which the Lieutenant Commander does not have. Also, your ears and eyebrows are different, as is the color of your respective skins.”

Dax simply smiled and nodded, while whispering to Serok: “He thinks we are from the same planet.”

“It would seem so, Captain,” replied Serok on a similar voice level. “In his eyes, we look very much alike. Considering the Prime Directive, I strongly suggest we do not clear up his misconception.”

“Right,” Dax implied. To the chancellor he said: “I do hope you will grant us a tour of your magnificent ship.”

Loary looked at him in an odd fashion. At least, Dax found it to feel odd, as he could not read any expression in the reptilian face. “I am very sorry, Captain, but that won't be possible for quite a while. Maybe later on, we will find the time to show you around. For now, there is a lot we may talk about.”


Miron paused in his work, ignoring the giant holograms of Chancellor Loary telling the workers what a good job they were doing, and looked up in the dark sky. There were no stars visible, as the light of the day-lamps around him were too bright to allow his eyes to see them. He often wished to look at the stars, but because of having to work the day-shift he couldn't. Very few were lucky enough to be selected for night-shift, as there simply was not much to do during the night.
He wondered what was out there. What planet they would eventually find. What it would be like. And how long it would take to get there. He hoped it would happen in his lifetime.

Miron had been born on the ship, just like his parents, and their parents before them. He had never even seen a planet, only heard about his people's homeworld, Tanar, in the stories told by the elder people. Most of it had been forgotten, at least among the workers. The leaders had computers with memory banks, but they wouldn't share much. Miron didn't even know why they had left Tanar. Some said it was because of a war, others stated it was due to over-population. And still others claimed the planet was doomed by pollution. Only the leaders knew for sure.

Some among the workers grew tired of their leadership and their unwillingness to share information. Miron, however, did not mind, as long as they would reach their new home.


Dax and Serok sat opposite to Loary at a round table. For half an hour they had talked about the history of the Eelar Tribe and the other people of Tanar, as well as their current society.

“We are still a democracy, but my family has been in office for several generations now,” the chancellor said. “We always got re-elected. I am very proud of the trust our people have given to me and my ancestors.”

Dax and Serok shared a glance of mutual doubt, but it wouldn't have been diplomatic to question the Eelar Tribe's political structures on their first encounter.

Suddenly, another Tanarian entered the room and stepped to the chancellor's side, whispering to him.

“Our scans of the alien ship's technology is complete,” Gon said. “The analysis shows they have a method of faster-than-light speed at their disposal.”

“Interesting,” Loary replied. “Keep this absolutely top secret, word mustn't get out to the workers. What else?”

“Another technology of theirs is the transformation of energy into matter. They use this technology at large to produce food.”

“Fantastic!” The chancellor had a hard time keeping quiet enough to not alarm the aliens. “Can we copy that technology?”

“Unfortunately, some materials needed are unavailable on our ship,” the advisor said.

“Very well,” said Loary. “We'll just have to seize the alien ship.” He nodded towards his guards, who in a quick motion lifted their weapons and shot the two alien security officers, leaving Captain Dax and his second-in-command unprotected.

Dax and Serok were shocked at this new development. They both were still in their seats, as there was no chance of taking cover before being shot. “What is going on?” Dax demanded to know.
“We will take your ship, Captain Dax,” Loary replied. “That is all.”


Sagu was sitting in the command chair watching the ark on the view-screen, when suddenly a green light filled the screen and the ENTERPRISE was slightly quaking for a moment. “What's happened?” she called out.

“We are caught in a tractor beam emanating from the alien ship,” replied Tahor.

“Helm, can we break free?”

The ensign at the helm shook her head. “I'm trying, but it's no use.”

Sagu stood up and stepped to the helm. “Let me try.” She bend down to the controls and tried her best, but even her skills were not enough to break free.

“We're being hailed,” said Tahor.

“Play,” commanded Sagu.

The holographic image of Chancellor Loary appeared. “This is the Chancellor. We will seize your ship and take the technology we want. Do not try to resist, you would not survive it. Prepare to be boarded.”

After this, the hologram vanished. Sagu turned to Tahor. “Options?”

Tahor took a second to think, then he answered: “Combat or self-destruction.”

“They have the captain,” Sagu said to herself. “On the other hand, losing a captain and a first officer is preferable to losing the whole ship.” To Tahor she said: “Prepare the Yamato-Phaser.”

Tahor looked surprised at this command. Then he tried to follow through, but to no avail. “All weapons systems off-line. That's a very advanced tractor beam.”

“So we'll have to wait for them to come aboard and tackle them in man-to-man combat,” Sagu concluded.

The Andorian nodded. “Aye, commander.”


Serok sat against the wall of the holding cell while Dax paced the room. “Okay, Serok, think! How do we get out of this mess?”

The Vulcan raised an eyebrow. “Maybe I would be able to come up with a plan if I had my tricorder to scan the structure of our surrounding.”

“Well, you don't have it, so come up with something else.”

“I will, though it may take some time.”

“Take all the time you need, I'm not going anywhere.”

Serok hesitated, then said: “As soon as this is over, I will officially apply for a transfer.”

Dax stopped and looked at his first officer. “Are you serious?”

“I am sorry, but I cannot work properly under a captain I don't understand and who won't listen to my suggestions.”

“I knew it,” Dax spat out. “I knew it from the beginning, but I wouldn't listen to myself. A Vulcan, what was I thinking? I could never deal with Vulcans. There was this baseball match against Vulcans, then this serial killer, my science teacher at the academy, Toral ...” He paused. “What do you mean, you don't understand me?”

“I don't understand you,” Serok said. “At one time you come up with a diplomatic solution to a very dangerous conflict, the next time you totally ignore the Prime Directive. I don't understand why you were offered your current post. In fact, I don't even understand how you could still be in Starfleet after a physical assault on your senior officer during a combat situation.”

“I was right,” Dax replied.

“And yet, you physically assaulted a senior officer during a combat situation. No matter the outcome, that's a major breach of Starfleet regulations and you should have been given a dishonorable discharge. So, why are you still in Starfleet?”

Dax thought for a moment. “Actually, I don't know. Admiral Nog just gave me this command. He really seemed to want me for this job.”

“But why? The incident with Captain Toral should have proven you to be a very unprofessional and violent person.”

“Now, hang on a minute,” Dax protested. “You think I'm not listening to your suggestions? Yes, I do. I ask for them, I hear you out. If I don't follow your advise, I have good reasons. And I do all that because I know how terrible it can be as a first officer to be treated like a better yeoman by your captain. Cause that's what I was for Toral. Not a second-in-command, not an advisor, just the guy for keeping things running. Whenever I tried to give alternatives, he shut me up. When I opened my mouth in a crew meeting, he shut me up, before all the other crew members. And he wouldn't even see me alone when I had a problem to discuss. Not I was the unprofessional one, he was. Maybe I should have applied for a transfer, I didn't. I thought, maybe, it would get better in time . And then, after six months of this, when we had this combat situation and I tried to talk to him, he shut me up again. I snapped. Okay?! I snapped. But this one incident does not speak for my whole career or me as a person. I am not unprofessional, and I am not a violent person.”

Serok looked up at Dax. “I see,” he said. “And I do understand your action better now. But this still does not answer the question of why Admiral Nog ignored this incident and made you the captain of a new flagship.”

“Well, maybe he knew me better than that.”

“He knew you?” Serok asked in surprise.

Dax hesitated. “Well, not me me, he knew two of my previous hosts, Jadzia and Ezri.”

“And you were friends?”

“Well, I suppose,” he said. “We went through the first Dominion War together. Jadzia tested Nog so he would be allowed to go to Starfleet Academy.”

“So, Admiral Nog is an old friend, who may even feel thankful towards you, and you didn't doubt his motives when he promoted you instead of discharging you?”

“Honestly, I hadn't thought about it. I guess I just trusted him.” He paused. “Or maybe the job just sounded to good to pass up on.” Dax sat down next to Serok. “I'm a joint Trill, as you know. The Dax symbiont inside me has lived several lives with other hosts before joining with Jelon. But I very well may be the last host for the Dax symbiont.”

Serok raised his eyebrow. “Intriguing,” he said. “I didn't know there was a limit of hosts for Trill symbionts.”

“Well, not a limit of hosts, but of time.” Dax sighed. “After about 500 years, a symbiont loses his ability to join with a humanoid host. We then have to return to the Trill homeworld. I've got just a bit over 50 years left, so Jelon Dax may be Dax's last chance to see the universe, to experience the wonders it has to offer, and also the pleasures of humanoid existence, by the way.”

“You mean, like eating?” Serok asked.

Dax looked at the Vulcan. After a moment of hesitation, he said: “Yes, like eating.”

“Well, captain, I do think I have a better understanding of you now. But it does not change the matter of how you got your current post.”

“No, it doesn't,” Dax agreed. “But I would appreciate it if you could give me the chance to talk to Admiral Nog before filing an official protest.”

“Of course, captain,” Serok said. “And now that I understand your reasons better, I decided not to apply for a transfer, after all. I may have not always agreed with you, but you're right in that you have had good reasons for your decisions.”

“Well, now that that's out of the way, maybe we could concentrate on getting out of here.”

At that moment, the door opened and Advisor Gon entered with an entourage of four guards. “It may interest you that your ship is caught in our tractor beam. It is not able to get away or fight back.”

“You could have just asked for our warp technology,” Dax said. Of course, if they had asked for it, he would have had to decline, but Gon didn't need to know that.

“We are not interested in your FTL engines.”

Both Dax and Serok were surprised at this revelation. “Why not? You would be able to get to a planet to colonize in a matter of hours.”

“But we don't want to,” Gon said. “We are quite comfortable with the way things are.”

“What about your people? Are they comfortable, too?”

“My people are of no concern for you,” Gon replied. “What I want are your so-called food replicators. With them, we would not need half as much workers as we do have now.”

“What would happen with those you don't need?”

“They'll be obsolete. They'll be given minimum rations and we'll make the other workers view them as social parasites.” Gon stepped closer. “Now, I want you to contact your ship and tell your crew to let our boarding party take control.”

“I won't do that,” Dax replied.

“You will, if you want to avoid bloodshed. My soldiers have the superior weapons, we have personal deflector shields. Once we've boarded your ship, your crew won't stand a chance. Don't you think surrender is the preferable alternative? I leave you two hours to think about it.”

Gon and his guards left.

“Of course, we can't let Starfleet technology fall into the wrong hands,” Serok stated.

“No, but he gave me an idea,” Dax said. “Do you see the surveillance holo-camera up there in the corner?”

“Of course,” Serok answered.

“Could you get access to the feed's radio signal, and send it to some other receiver?”

Serok raised an eyebrow. “My com-badge might come in handy.”


“We're being hailed again,” said Tahor.

Sagu stood up. “Play,” she commanded.

Again, the holographic Loary appeared and said: “We are giving you two hours for surrender. After this time, we will seize your ship with our soldiers. If you surrender, you will stay unharmed. If you don't, you will be killed.”

After the hologram had vanished, Sagu turned to Tahor. “Two hours,” she said. “Prepare the crew for combat.”

“Aye, Commander,” the security chief replied.

“But first,” Sagu started. “Computer, initiate self-destruct sequence, T minus three hours. Authorization Lieutenant Commander Aadarshini Sagu, authorization code Alpha-alpha-beta-3-gamma-2.” She nodded towards Tahor.

He nodded back. “Computer, confirm self-destruct sequence. Authorization Lieutenant Tahor, authorization code Beta-alpha-echo-7-delta.”

“Self destruct sequence confirmed,” stated the voice of the computer. “Request final authorization code to initiate self-destruct in three hours.”

Commander Sagu breathed deeply. “Final authorization code 3-3-destruct-3.”

“Self destruct sequence initiated.”

Sagu dropped back into the command chair. “Now, you may take those preparations, Lieutenant.”

“Aye,” answered Tahor.

Act IV

“How much time do we have left?” asked Dax.

“Approximately fifty-three minutes,” replied Serok, not looking up from his work. He had taken off his uniform jacket and opened the shell of the com-badge. His back was turned to the holo-camera, so his actions were not visible to it.

“Remember, you'll have to turn on the sound recorder as well.”

“I'm not in the habit of forgetting about details,” Serok said.

“A little bitchy under stress, aren't you?” Dax noted.

“Of course, if you insist on distracting me all the time, I might forget the details, after all.”

“Understood,” Dax said and kept quiet. For a while.


Miron was still at work on the fields, when it happened. The holograms of Chancellor Loary faded away and, after a moment, were replaced by the holographic view of a holding cell. And to Miron's utter shock, there were two strange figures in this cell. One of them stepped closer to the camera and seemed to look him directly in the eye.

“My name is Captain Jelon Dax of the Federation Starship ENTERPRISE. We came in peace, but we are currently held prisoner by your government. They do not, however, want our FTL technology. They are not interested in finding a new home. If you are, then you'd better do something about it.”

The hologram faded, and the chancellor's came back on. Miron looked at his co-workers. They were all stunned for a moment. Miron was the first to leave the field. He was not the last.


Loary rushed into the holding cell, followed by his advisor. “What have you done?”

“Hello, chancellor, did you like our little show?” Dax stepped forward. “I bet your people lappreciated it very much.”

“They're rioting,” Gon said. “They won't listen to me. Even the soldiers have joined the riot. Only myself, my staff and my personal guard are holding out.”

“And we'll find out for how long, won't we?”

“I will kill you for that,” Loary spat out.

“Yes, but what will it change? The truth is out, the trust is broken. You were corrupted by your power to believe your people's sole purpose was to serve you, when you were supposed to serve them. And now, they know it.”

Suddenly, noise broke out in the corridor. Gon panicky turned to the door. “They've broken into the higher levels. They are coming.”

“Yes,” Dax said. “And if you want to avoid bloodshed, particularly your own, you'd better surrender.”


Sagu tensed up in the command chair. “Computer, time?”

“T minus one hour and four minutes,” stated the computer.

She looked at Tahor, who was holding his phaser rifle and staring at his sensor readings. “Any sign?”

“Not yet,” replied the Andorian, but as soon as he said it, he had to correct himself. “They're hailing us.”


Everyone was puzzled, as the hologram appearing in the front of the bridge was not of the Chancellor, but of Captain Dax. “Hello, this is the captain speaking,” he said. “Everything's under control, you can call off the alarm.”

“The tractor beam just turned off,” Tahor stated.

“Captain, what happened?”

“Just a little revolution, Commander,” Dax replied. “Prepare to take the ark into our own tractor beam. We will be taking them to the nearest, nicest class-M planet.”

“Aye, sir,” Sagu said. “Will you be coming back on the ENTERPRISE?”

“Yes, Commander Serok and I will be returning shortly. Dax out.”

The hologram disappeared.

“Computer,” Sagu said. “Abort self-destruct sequence. Authorization code Sagu, Gamma-alpha-4-alpha.”

“Self-destruct sequence aborted,” confirmed the computer.

Sagu let out a sigh of relief and fell back into the chair.

Act V

Captain's Log, Stardate: 128914.97. In consent with the new provisional government
of the Eelar Tribe, the ENTERPRISE is towing the Eelar ark to the uninhabited Planet
Hoxan II, which the Eelar Tribe is intending to colonize.

Commander Sagu stepped toward the table Lieutenant Tahor was sitting at. “May I sit?”
Tahor waved his hand to an empty chair.

The Earth woman sat down and leaned back. “I'm gonna entrust you with something,” she said. “Back when I first met Captain Dax, he was very ...” she paused, searching for the right word. “... playful, too put it mildly. I had read his file before, so I was kind of warned about his very open way. But I was not prepared to the kind of advances he made. I didn't know how to react, if he was just teasing me, or testing me, or if he was serious. So I tried my best to reject his advances in a similarly playful way, as best as I could, anyway. But it kept nagging at me. So, a few days later, I paid him a visit, and we talked about it. It turned out he was joking, and that he realized many people couldn't handle his sense of humor. He also admitted to have had a hard time adjusting his social skills from a mere officer's among equals to a captain's. So, he promised to do his best to keep it down around me, and if he ever slipped again, I should just take it as nothing more than a joke.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Tahor asked.

“Because I wanted you to trust me.”

“And why should I trust you, when you do yourself exactly what you told some subordinates not to do the other day. You're gossiping about senior officers, spreading word of their personal weaknesses. Although I approve of your actions while you were in command today, I will not trust you.”

Sagu was embarrassed. “You're right. I am gossiping. I don't always know how to act or react to other people. It is a weakness of my own. And I hope you will handle your knowledge of my weakness better than I have handled the captain's.”

Tahor leaned forward. “I may not trust you. But you may trust me.”


“So, what about the Prime Directive?” Dr. Peters asked as he stepped to the science station.

“What about it?”

“Come on, Serok,” Peters said. “You really think our actions today were not violating the Prime Directive?”

“We may have bended it,” Serok stated. “But I wouldn't call it a violation. It was simply a matter of interpretation.”

“You could say the same about Kolan III,” the doctor noted and left, leaving the Vulcan thinking about his words.

“And how was your day?” asked Captain Dax as Peters approached him.

“Aside from a few hours of preparations for combat emergencies, pleasurably quiet.” He leaned down to Dax. “And how was your day alone with the Vulcan?”

Dax thought about it. “He's not that bad, once you get to know him. Actually, more like 'once he gets to know you'.”

“So, what's next?”

“We will stay in orbit to Hoxan II for a while, observing the Tanarians and establishing official diplomatic relations.”

“Sounds good,” Peters said. “Maybe I can find the time to do a medical scan of a few of them. New species, you know.”

“Yes,” Dax said. “And I shall have time to talk to an old friend.”

Don't miss next month's episode: "A Study in Gray"
STAR TREK BEYOND The Pilot now online
Kai the spy
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