Posted 06 January 2009 - 12:44 PM
SEASON THREE
EPISODE ONE
“Tempus Futile, Part 2”
PROLOGUE
Last time on Star Trek: Discovery…
While anticipating the return of Doctor Carla Kenyon to the USS Discovery NCC-76240, Captain Josiah Graves prepared to deliver a speech at her impending birthday celebrations. His preparatory efforts were cut rudely short when Commander Valerie Archer, his trusted First Officer and object of his hidden affections, informed him that Doctor Kenyon’s shuttlecraft was oddly missing from the rendezvous co-ordinates. In that instant, Captain Graves immediately feared the worst.
Ordering a search pattern, the USS Discovery soon encountered a strange alien warp trail intersecting Doctor Kenyon’s route back from the Wyrian medical conference she’d been attending on behalf of the Federation. Following the trail, the Intrepid-Class starship caught up with and intercepted an ominous cube-shaped vessel belonging to humanity’s greatest and most feared enemy: the Borg Collective. Instantly ordering a red alert, Captain Graves rallied his crew around him as they realised that Doctor Kenyon had probably been captured and assimilated by the Borg.
Sending an away team over to the Borg Cube, the crew of the USS Discovery were shocked and appalled to find no trace of Doctor Kenyon save her uniform and commbadge. An over-eager Lieutenant Commander Sakal accidentally tripped an alarm while digging through the Borg central computer, and quickly the Borg detected the presence of the Intrepid-Class starship. Beaming the away team back to the relative safety of the USS Discovery, Captain Graves was shocked to learn that the Borg’s goal was to assimilate Earth.
In their path: the Sirrustra System, Starbase 499… and the USS Discovery…
…and now the conclusion.
ACT ONE
“Shields to maximum, standby all weapons… resistance is not futile!”
Captain Josiah Graves felt his pulse racing, the blood coursing through his veins throbbing in anticipation of an apocalyptic confrontation with the Borg Cube which presently loomed over the Intrepid-Class USS Discovery… his ship, his crew, his friends and his loved ones, all in mortal danger. The Englishman, not for the first time, considered himself too young to be in such a position of responsibility. No, he thought, shaking his head firmly: now was not the time for doubts.
“Captain,” barked Jason Allenbach from ops, “we’re being scanned!”
All of a sudden, a blinding green energy beam penetrated the hull. It swept across the bridge, forcing every person it touched to recoil in slight fear and obvious ocular distress as it probed their bodies and systems. It happened on all decks, too, crewmembers backing away from the approaching verdant menace. The scan took only a few seconds, after which Lieutenant Commander Sakal ran from the Captain’s side, heading to the engineering console in the right-hand bulkhead.
“They’ve conducted a threat analysis, Captain,” he hissed through grated teeth. “We don’t appear affected in any way.”
“That could change,” Jed lamented. “Are the shields still up?”
“Affirmative,” Sakal replied.
“Untouched by the hand of the devil,” Valerie observed with curiosity. “What are they doing over there? Why not assimilate us, like they did Carla?”
The mention of Doctor Carla Kenyon hung in the air for a silent second. While they’d had time to realise their friendly chief medical officer was in grave danger over on the Borg Cube, any flicker of hope they’d once held for her safe return had been extinguished by the news Valerie Archer’s away team had brought back. A Starfleet uniform… Carla’s uniform… and no sign of her. She would hardly need it as a drone. Interrupting the sadness at her sudden departure, Ensign Allenbach had yet more worrying facts to impart from his ops console.
“They’re charging weapons!” he cried.
“Brace for impact!” shouted Jed in response.
A single green energy discharge burst forth from the haphazard hull plating of the immense goliath blocking their path. It struck the shields of Discovery, instantly causing them to overload and collapse in defeat. Sakal’s shocked expression told everybody all they needed to hear.
“Shields are gone!” he said anyway.
“Captain,” Lieutenant Mitan yelled from the helm, “I’ve lost helm control!”
“Sakal?” Valerie asked the question with the tone of her voice alone.
“The Borg weapon caused a massive feedback pulse along our ODN relays and EPS conduits,” the Suliban growled in frustration, slamming his display with his scaled hands balled into fists. “All systems are suffering an energy drain!”
“Anything to get us out of here,” Jed asked in panic, “would be greatly appreciated!”
“Diverting power to thrusters,” the chief engineer attempted.
It was hardly needed.
The image on the viewscreen changed. The once-immovable Borg Cube was turning again, this time turning away from the crippled Discovery, back towards their original course… back towards Earth, and back towards Starbase 499… back towards Sirrustra II, the defenceless civilisation relying on the Federation. Well, Jed had to admit as he watched the Cube prepare to depart, if we’ve been defeated so easily, Rear Admiral Quarren over on 499 doesn’t stand a chance, and neither do the Sirrustrians on the surface below. All eyes widened as the Cube leapt to warp with a howl.
“Why didn’t they assimilate us?” Valerie whispered.
“What’s the point?” Jed responded with his own question. “Soon they’ll have Earth, so why waste time on one lone starship? Besides, we’re not going anywhere.”
Round one was over.
The scores favoured the Borg Collective.
“Captain’s Log, supplemental.
The persistence of the Borg in their mission to assimilate humanity might have spared my ship and my crew, but I fear for those that lay in their path. Obviously the Borg made a tactical decision based on the scans they took of Discovery, realising we could put up a fight, but what about when they scan a defenceless target? Sakal has informed me that Sirrustra II and Ivor Prime are their only obstacles before they reach Earth… both relatively defenceless locations. I am compelled therefore, despite the danger, to complete repairs to Discovery and give chase to the Borg…”
“How long, Sakal?”
“About an hour, give or take,” answered the Suliban, fixing the Captain with an intense stare that told Jed not to quibble with the estimate. “I’ve replaced all the ODN relays that are vital to main systems, but the EPS couplings in main engineering are fused beyond recognition. I don’t know whether to try and repair them or start from scratch and replicate new ones altogether.”
They were clustered around the briefing room table, not bothering with seats. There was no time to sit around and go through the formality of a staff meeting, and besides, Sakal’s uniform was covered in a layer of grease and dirt, so it kept the upholstery clean… Jed inwardly stopped himself from laughing at that thought. It had become a worrying trait of his, to take situations of such dire imposing danger and tragic loss and overlay comedic, almost sarcastic asides. He wasn’t the first man in history to do it, and he wouldn’t be the last… at least it helped him cope. The pacifist forced to fight, forced to accept violent loss, to accept the cost of an enemy’s actions… readjusting his attention, he stared back at Sakal with understanding eyes.
“Okay… but see if you can avoid using the replicators. It would be prudent to save as much of our power reserves as possible for the coming fight.”
“I still can’t believe we’re going to knowingly engage a Borg Cube…” Jason sighed.
“Neither can I, Ensign,” Jed countered, “but it’s either that or stand by as Sirrustra II falls to the Borg. Rear Admiral Quarren would do the same for us, would fight with his last ounce of strength, and it is our duty to protect the Federation’s presence in this corner of the Beta Quadrant in any way we can.”
Mitan nodded, agreeing entirely with the Captain’s decision.
“We’re all on board,” he told the room, stating the obvious to reinforce morale. “It is an incredible thing to do, but it’s the only thing we can do.”
“I’ve been reviewing as much information on the Borg as I possibly can,” Valerie Archer revealed, tapping away at the wallscreen in the briefing room and calling up a schematic of a prism-shaped device. “Thanks to the records kept by the crew of the USS Enterprise-D, we’ve got a possible advantage to exploit. These are distribution nodes, found aboard all Borg vessels. They regulate the collective consciousness and keep all the drones in line.”
“Order to chaos…?” Jed ventured.
“Something like that, yes,” the First Officer continued. “If we can punch a hole in a specific part of the Cube’s shields, several photon torpedoes should make short work of the hull plating near this relay…”
The wallscreen changed accordingly. Everybody took note.
“…and we’ll have a clear shot at the central distribution node for over thirty per cent of the drones aboard. Like a wounded dog, they’ll kick back even harder as soon as we succeed, so we’ll have to work fast. But even if we destroy one, maybe two, it might be enough to stop them dead in their tracks.”
“Sounds good,” Jed confirmed with a sharp nod. “Better than no plan at all…”
“I’ll try to take that as a compliment,” she smiled in return.
Good old Valerie.
Surrounded by such support, Captain Graves felt like he couldn’t lose.
ACT TWO
Federation deep-space outpost Starbase 499, in orbit of Sirrustra II…
Routine wasn’t really dull, but it wasn’t really exciting either. It was just routine, nothing more or less, and regardless of the action being undertaken, repeating something enough times became dull. Even though he loved his job, therefore, Rear Admiral Leo Quarren was, this morning, drumming his fingers on his desk with annoyance. His private office aboard the spinning space station had never felt so quiet. It was too early for whiskey… the coffee from breakfast was just starting to wear off, yet lunch was too far away. Scratching his grey beard in frustration, he realised today was just going to be one of those days, the days when those in the top brass levels of Starfleet kicked back and enjoyed the privilege of agenda-setting.
Lifting his polished shoes from the spare chair he’d dragged over, his broad shoulders shifted to align with the desk’s straight edge.
“Quarren to Station Master Mendoza,” his relaxed American drawl called out into his tapped commbadge.
“Erica here, Boxer,” the Latina responded promptly.
“Poker, my office, ten minutes… and don’t tell me you’re busy, I know better!”
“I yield to your superiority in these matters. See you in ten.”
Another tap and another call followed.
“Quarren to Doctor Pulaski…”
“This is Katherine Pulaski,” the relatively new addition to 499’s staff answered within seconds. “What can I do for you, Boxer?”
“Bring chips,” Leo chuckled, appreciating the difference between Erica’s hands-off reply and Pulaski’s no-nonsense approach. “The day’s a slow one, Kate. Poker, in my office, ten minutes… just you, me, Erica and the cards… and nowhere to hide!”
“You know, there’s treatment available for masochism,” Pulaski teased.
“Those are fightin’ words, Kate!”
“You know me too well, Boxer. I’m on my way.”
It wasn’t long before the Rear Admiral had replicated three sparkling glasses of a pleasing Andorian ice juice the trio had shared and enjoyed recently, and set them out accordingly on the circular table reserved for poker games. The cards were to be found in his desk, as per usual, and he was just about to shuffle them when something caught his eye… something out of place.
Turning to the beautiful starfield beyond his panoramic window, Leo Quarren knew every place for every star out there. Today, on one of those days, a star wasn’t behaving itself. It was growing… no, wait. It wasn’t a star at all. Whatever it was, it was blacker than the darkest recesses of the cosmos. It was blotting out stars with alarming frequency: whatever it was, it was massive, almost the size of Starbase 499 itself.
When it got close enough for a visual scan, Leo’s eyes never failing him, it got close enough for those manning the central command operations of the Station Master’s Office to panic and slap the red alert button.
Rightly so, Quarren thought.
He’d only seen them in reports… never for real.
Poker would have to wait.
The USS Steamrunner NX-52126 had seen relatively little action for a destroyer-type starship. There had been a large battle with the End space fleet one year ago, and since then only a brief altercation with some disgruntled Sirrustrian revolutionaries who, frankly, couldn’t fight their way out of a wet Alderbarian bag. Captain Graves had fought hard to renovate and reassign the Steamrunner to Starbase 499, but now, leaning back in the command chair on her bridge as the daily systems checks were made around him, Lieutenant Commander Gabriel West couldn’t see the point.
West was a tall, handsome and striking thirty-something African American who was born for tactical operations. His pride in his skills was only exceeded by his overbearing ego and self-confidence when it came to his job and his love life… ever the ladies’ man, he was currently contemplating his latest possible conquest (a lovely crewman from the engineering corps aboard Steamrunner he’d asked out to dinner) when the red alert klaxon sounded, lights flaring deep crimson.
In his arrogance and frustration, West believed some stupid young ensign to have accidentally slipped it. The Steamrunner was safely tucked away inside one of the cavernous docking ports of Starbase 499: today, his command duties would involve chastising him or her, writing an incident report and telling the poor quivering wreck to read the regulations again and take a day off. Sighing heavily as he lifted his athletic frame from the command chair, West moved towards the tactical station to his right on the small, cramped bridge and got the attention of the officer on duty.
“What is it now…?” he grumbled.
“It wasn’t me, Captain,” the officer protested, using the rank merely as a formality when addressing the Lieutenant Commander. “The main computer has received the red alert signal from Starbase 499… sir; I’ve got the Station Master’s Office on-screen!”
“Put them through,” West frowned, turning.
“Gabe, this is Rear Admiral Quarren,” the grizzled features of Leo Quarren shouted into the bridge of the starship. “Get your butts out into space: we’ve got a Borg Cube on a direct intercept course with weapons primed!”
“Oh my…”
Secretly, however, Gabriel West welcomed the news.
Finally a proper battle with a worthy adversary… finally, time to prove himself.
Sign In
Register
Help
MultiQuote
).
Season 3 is off to a good start 
