StarDestroyer.Net BBS

After realising I simply don't have the time to make this story worth peoples while, I'm leaving it alone. Feel free to take what I've started or leave right now.

Best wishes.


This story revolves around those who have grown tired with the stifling "utopia" of the Federation and see the eventual defeat of the Federation by the Borg, Dominion or even the other Alpha Quadrant powers. What follows is there attempt to avoid this future. The story begins in the year 2378 after Voyager returns to the Alpha Quadrant but before the events depicted in Star Trek Nemesis.

Mankind Reborn: Part 1: The Opening Moves

Green Tea

"To light a candle is to cast a shadow." 
Collected Sayings, 2390


Paris, Earth, June 3rd, 2378
Ammar ibn Khairan was quite a remarkable man. This everyone could agree on. What divided them was the nature of his talents. Those who believed in everything that the United Federation of Planets stood for, people like the famous Captains of Starfleet like Picard and Janeway, would have admired his beautiful poetry and valued his almost unmatchable skills in the field of diplomacy. But it was as a soldier and assassin, that he found himself most employed.

He took a sip from the tiny cup of expresso and smiled. The French had never lost that ability to make your tastebuds tingle. It was not replicated of course, he saw replicating food as barbaric and lazy, the difference was discernible. Many agreed with him of course but it remained a niche market to cater to the 'organics' as they were known, it was simply too convenient to replicate any food in your home, far easier than cooking it yourself or travel elsewhere. It made him sick. The Federation bred apathy and he could no longer sit by as the inevitable disaster occurred.

It had to happen eventually. The crisis they could not avoid by sheer luck or supernatural intervention. The Dominion war had been too close and they had fought the entire war with only a fraction of their real strength. What if they came again? What about the Borg? In fact, nevermind either of them, what about the Romulans? It was a dire times indeed when the Federation was once again threatened by the Romulan Star Empire. No, it could not continue. The Federation was too soft by far. The Vulcans were responsible in large part of course, it was they who had forced humanity to change its way of thinking in exchange for technology.It was they who had lobbied the Federation government into outlawing business itself! It was ludicrous! And now the Federation stagnated, bereft of its entrepreneurial spirit and forced to maintain the strange balance between science and war.

These frustrations had come to a head about a decade ago but he had seen no way to change the current situation until he had met the man who changed his life. Jason Day. The name was strange and he suspected it was not the one his parents had given him. Far more likely it was an attempt to cover up his past and protect his former connections. Today he would see him face to face for the first time in 3 years. Ammar checked his watch, it was Armani an old Earth brand centuries old, Day was due in 2 minutes. He called the waiter over and ordered green tea, which he knew to be Cordios' favourite, fully expectant that by the time the tea arrived Jason would already be here.

Sure enough Ammar was not disappointed, no sooner had the tea been placed upon the small metal table then Day appeared seemingly out of nowhere and sat opposite him.

"Ammar ibn Khairan. It has been too long! How are you old friend?" he said pleasently enough but in that non animated way which was his habit.

"I am well enough sayyid, overjoyed to see you again. How was your trip?"

"Oh duller than dishwater if truth be known but that's what you get if you travel via Starfleet." he smiled slightly "I must say, the view here is truly exceptional" Jason gestured at the river which gleamed in the sunlight and in the distance the Eiffel tower stood. A monument to a different time. He sipped the green tea his eyes closing momentarily. "Delicious" he murmured before placing the cup down "Now. Enough small talk non? On to business, I presume, since you are here, you have the plans for the Defiant?"

Deep Space Nine, June 3rd, 2378

Mosark crawled slowly on the durasteel floor, the agony of his injury leaving him barley able to move, fear and desperation driving him on. Blind panic prevented coherent thought as he attempted his futile escape. Why had he ever come here? His cousin only ever brought bad luck...

A foot drove into his lower back pinning him to floor, he howled in agony before beginning to sob and cry out for help at the same time. There was a sigh from the owner of the foot, a human woman.

"Really Mosark this is struggle is pointless, we both know you can't escape and that no one can hear you down here in the bowels of the station. Now you can agree to help me and I'll let you live or you can die all for someone who could care less. I would pay you well. Think about it. Your life and fifty bars of latinum. All I want is the location of your cousins weapons caches. I know he was involved in weapons deals and big time too. I don't care if he isn't involved now he knows where those weapons are and I want them." Mosark continued to whimper, so she dug her foot in and sighed as he howled once more. She drew withdrew her knife, of Klingon make, and pressed it against the Ferengi's lobes. "I guess you leave me no choice..."

"Noooo!!" He cried out. "Please! I'll do what you ask I'll find out where the weapons are!! Just don't hurt me any more." She smiled and lifted her foot off his back nudging him over with it. Crouching she stroked his lobes gently.

"There. That wasn't so hard was it? Now run along and find Quark."

Helene Andreski watched the Ferengi scurry off, his wounds had been painful but not that serious it had only taken a few minutes to heal the damage. They really were the most pathetic species, creepily servile and cowardly she thought to herself. But there almost deliberate amorality proved useful in a Federation dominated quadrant. They really would do anything to make a profit which made them predictable and easy to manipulate. The old carrot and stick routine had guaranteed success with just about any Ferengi, with the possible exception of Quark of course but he had spent too long being brainwashed by the Federation to retain any of his species useful traits. He was now little more than an average businessman running an average bar.

Helene began sharpening her Klingon dagger, she didn't know it's proper name she wasn't interested in the trappings of an outdated culture, as she pondered her next move. She had a little over a month if she was going to meet her deadline for the weapons delivery and ensure the next stage for a reborn humanity could go forward.

Any feedback or expression of interest in this story continuing would be much appreciated, don't want to completely waste my time.

You need to work on the mechanics of writing. This story needed a cleanup and editing before posting. For instance,

Paris,Earth,June 3rd, 2378

is missing spaces. You're missing a lot of commas and periods and you have too many run-on sentences. Example:

Sure enough Ammar was not dissapointed, no sooner had the tea been placed upon the small metal table than Morningstar appeared seemingly out of nowhere and sat opposite him.

That needed either a period to make it two sentences, or a semi-colon to connect them (I'd prefer semi-colon, myself).
While I'm at it, you misspelled 'disappointed'.


And please tell me that you did not self-insert yourself as a character in the story, because that is terrible.

I don’t usually post here, I spend too much time writing alternate history but I’m very interested to see where you’re going with this. I’ve had several ideas along a similar line but have always been a bit daunted at the amount of backstory needed to fully realize such a story. It is however the very inclusiveness and diversity of the Star Trek universe that, in my opinion, opens up the very real possibility of a story with a premise such as yours. The Federation has put such a priority on satisfying the lowest common denominator of peaceniks that it’s pushed out those who would favor, for instance, a stronger defense policy, a greater respect for individual rights and property, and a less accommodating posture toward tyrannical powers such as the Klingons. There has been some alluding toward that in the books “Articles of the Federation” where one of the presidential candidates against Nan Blacco wanted to end the end the alliance with the Klingons and the book “Losing the Peace” where Picard and Janeway jumped through hoops to keep a race from leaving the Federation because that race thought they should have negotiated with the Dominion (they left anyway).

The first thoughts I had on the subject were based on the premise that joining the Federation didn’t necessarily preclude abandoning local defenses. In several novels we meet local defense forces within the Federation (who usually get destroyed before Starfleet jumps in) and I believe a few were seen in TNG as well. I thought that in the wake of the Dominion War Earth, Andor, and their colonies would for a form a unified heavy defense force (all dedicated war and patrol ships) to protect their space, separate from Starfleet. This was precipitated from a scene from a short story in “Tales of the Dominion War” where the President of the United States made an appearance after the Breen attack San Francisco. I postulated that several of the nations of Earth could vote to form a fleet to defend it and that the colonies would join end along with other (more militant) races such as the Andorians (assuming that the nations send representatives to the United Earth Senate, it was never stated but I’ve always assumed that to be the case).

The other idea I had centered on the premise of the TNG book “Infiltrator, #42 where there existed a non-Federation human planet called Hera where a society genetically engineered humans lived. This world (in my idea) existed near Turkana IV (where Tasha Yar is from) and other “failed” human colonies and after the Enterprise encountered them they decided to liberate those worlds and add them to a growing confederation where genetic engineering was legal and the only law was not to violate the rights of others. This took place in the years before the Borg invasion (Destiny series) and the conflict occurred after the invasion when a very important human colony that was crucial to Federation trade wanted to withdraw from the Federation to join the Confederation. They voted to do so but the Federation Supreme Court ruled that the Federation could decide not to allow a member world to secede if it were deemed crucial to Federation stability. A war started when Starfleet intercepted a Confederation fleet going to the planet and like the genengineered misfits who went to DS9, the Confederation decided that even though their ships were much more advanced they could not win against Starfleet’s numbers and decided to evacuate their entire civilization to former Borg space using recently developed transwarp. And of course they’ll meet again in a century or so for round two.

Anyway, feel free to take any of these ideas, I’m working on an update to my old history of the Mirror Universe and won’t develop these anyway. I look forward to seeing the rest of your story and I will be commenting.

Wait, there was still a US President in the 24th century?!

As of the Dominion Wars yes. Read the book "Tales of the Dominion War," it's has several short stories covering the aftermath of the Breen attack on Earth to Shinzon's rise to power during the war.

Besides that I've seen/read enough references to show that the United Earth government is basically a federation of the nations of earth, not a single nation-state. Perhaps not as lose as say, the Earth Alliance from B5 but nowhere near as strong as the states in the current US.

First Victory

"Start with a victory and you may end with one."
Kahless the Unforgettable

USS Defiant, June 5th, 2378

Major Kira Neris resisted the urge to drum her fingers while she sat in the Captains chair on the Defiant. Damn Quark, the miserable little coward. Millions of innocent Bajoran’s dead in the last decade and the Prophets let this miserable little Ferengi live. She sighed inwardly and reprimanded herself for questioning the prophets. After all no Quark, no Rom. No Rom and the Dominion War would have been over before it started.

Lieutenant Richards deep baritone interrupted her revery “ Major were about to arrive at the co-ordinates scans indicate seven vessels at least the size of runabout...” he paused glancing down at the readout “They’re armed Major.”

“Bring us to red alert, raise shields and charge phaser cannons. Lock on to the closest vessels as soon as we exit warp.”

“Aye, Aye”

Eightfold Path, June 5th, 2378

“Sir, Federation Starship approaching, initial scans indicate it’s probably the Defiant.”
Helene glanced at the screen below her and swore angrily. While they outnumbered the Defiant and with the quantam torpedoes on the Eightfold Path had sufficient firepower to destroy that famous ship, it would cost them and Day had ordered that the Federation were not to be engaged on any level if it could be helped.“We have three minutes until they get here” letting none of her worry show in her voice “signal the other ships to begin transporting as much they can and be ready to make a run for it.”

She was in command of five ships of the kind the Maquis used to raid the Cardassians, though they had received a significant upgrade in offensive capabilities. She also had two cargo vessels, all of them began transporting up the cargo from the planet below. Quark had revealed the location of the weapons caches, too afraid of anything that made Mosark terrified to say no. But apparently he’d overcome his fear sufficiently to tell the Federation what they were doing. She hadn’t anticipated that, she had thought he would be too afraid of the consequences if he confessed to the authorities that he kept secret weapons cache’s in Federation territory. And these weren’t just phasers or torpedoes, there were far nastier things in the boxes being beamed up into the virtually nonexistent space behind her. She looked over her shoulder, they were almost out of room.

“Dylan, thats enough. We need to get out of here.”

“Too late sir, the Defiant is here.

USS Defiant, June 5th, 2378

“Hail those ships all channels.” Said Kira.

“No response sir.”

“Again”. There was an extended pause before Richards said “Were getting a reply”

“On screen.” A Ferengi appeared on screen. ‘no surprises there’ thought Kira ‘Ferengi bullying Ferengi.’

“What do you want humon?” snarled the Ferengi.

“I want you to stop transporting those weapons onto your ships and shut down your engines. You’re all under arrest” said Kira sternly.

“Now Captain, I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about. We left these containers here and are now collecting them. I can assure you that they don’t contain weapons.”

“Shut down your engines. This is not a discussion.”

“Major, they are still transporting the weapon containers onto those cargo ships” Kira turned back to the grinning Ferengi.

“Follow my instructions or I will be forced to fire.” The Ferengi shrugged in reply and the screen went dark. “Fire on the closest ships disable their engines.

Eightfold Path, June 5th, 2378

Helene grinned as she cut off the communication with the Defiant, doubtless the good Major was now convinced she was dealing with Ferengi. Even if she managed to find Mosark and get him to tell her the truth she would presume that the blonde human woman that had interrogated him was working for the Ferengi. Not that there had never been Ferengi in the first place. She opened a channel to the other ships “ Le Monte, Kairon, get out of here. You’ve got over 50% of the weapons cache, we’ll cover your escape. The rest of you Reverse Scimitar manoeuvre.” She closed the channel and sat down in the co-pilots chair, charging the phasers as they accelerated forward maximum impulse, the Defiant began to follow them rapidly closing the gap. Fortunatley they weren’t really trying to get away. Suddenly the Eightfold Path and her sister ships flipped 180 degrees bringing their weapons directly to bear on the Defiant and fired all their phasers at the sensors. They continued to fire as they flew backwards at full impulse, maintaining a certain distance from the Defiant. Unfortunately it didn’t put them out of range of the phaser cannons and Helene’s ship rocked violently as they took a direct hit.

“Shields down to 60%, we weren’t designed to go head to head with a warship of this class.”

“I know but we don’t have to defeat them.” She looked at the readout and smiled. “The cargo ships have gone to warp. Get ready to run” She opened a channel to other ships. “The cargo ships have gone, break off Divided Wedge formation then scatter, rendezvous in 24 hours.” As they broke off, three ships to the right of the Defiant and two to the left they fired again on the sensors. There was satisfying flash of light as they temporarily blinded their opponent. As they jumped to warp and raced away from the Defiant, Helene smiled to herself as she began to sharpen a Klingon blade. She had just won the first battle against the Federation. Damn it felt good.

A Storm comes to Qu'onos

"Behold! The might of the storm in mortal form!"
The Founding of Andoria

Qu’onos, June 10th, 2378

The four Klingon’s hesitated, thrown by the sudden disappearance of their quarry.The man called Jason Day took the moment to strike. His throwing knife took one of the Klingons in the eye and he collapsed onto the ground. The Klingons, experienced warriors all looked towards his hiding place and hefted a variety of bladed weapons including bat’leth’s and d’k tahg’s.
He drew his own sword from his belt and moved into the open. The Klingons eyed him warily, unsure how to take a human armed with a katana.

“We have you now human. There is no escape, surrender or we will drink blood wine from your skull.” Said the lead Klingon.

Thunder crashed in the distance as the once distant storm filled everyone’s ears, and he raised his hand and beckoned his would-be assassins with a taunt.

“Then by all means…kill me…if you can.” Day said as he raised his katana to strike.

In the mind of the lead Klingon, Lamort son of Drago, the teachings of an old sword master, legendary in his day, came back to him. “Many of you, if not all of you, will never surpass the elite sword masters in strength and mastery in the way of the warrior. But they are far from invincible. You must use cunning, and tactics if you are going to overcome them. All of you will have to learn to cooperate with one another,” he had looked directly at Lamort at that point, “especially during battle. Combine your strengths and energies, and you stand a much greater chance of surviving.”

At the time Lamort had scoffed, it didn’t matter in a duel what tactics were used if one side was simply more powerful than the other. Would it have mattered how many Khaless faced or Kang?

The Dominion War had taught him otherwise. He had learned that without his fellow warriors he would follow like so many others to the ferocity and strength of the fanatical Jem’hadar.
His own effectiveness was enhanced when coupled with others. So much so that they had gained much honour and repute in the eyes of the Klingon Empire, his men had been known as the God Slayers. Much to the fury of the Jem’hadar, though they had been separated in a political ploy and he was now stuck in the Qu’onos garrison. Despite that his leadership should have been sufficient to defeat any lone opponent with the warriors he had with him.

Except this human, after only two manoeuvres into the battle he had beaten back each and every one of their attacks with but one hand. A mere human was matching all of the Klingon’s strength and speed! Lamort could barely keep track of his blade, the only thing keeping any of them alive were their unrelenting tandem attacks forcing the human to counter each time. Their goal was to try and overwhelm him and take advantage of any mistakes while wearing him down. But the human wasn’t tiring and his technique was absolutely flawless.

The frustration, something Klingon’s never dealt well with, began to take its toll on them and one of his men gave into his anger, attempting to carve his bat’leth through the human’s shoulder with a high two handed chop brought down like a hammer. He had left himself open though, and the human ducked low to at an angle avoiding the blow and sliced off the warriors left leg neatly below the knee, Klingon armour and flesh proving no barrier for metal folded over a hundred times. Spinning on one foot the human placed himself in the middle of the Klingon’s suddenly a second shorter blade appeared and the two blades took the head’s of the warrior’s to the left and right of one now missing his leg.

Lamort and took a few steps back to try and put more distance between him and the human, but the effort was futile as he surged forward to take the offensive. His blade soared through the night sky as the rain started to fall, drops of water cut in half by his blade as he slashed at Lamort. He raised his bat’leth to parry but the force of his opponents cut was so great he was knocked backwards.

With every swing Lamort was forced to give ground and his fear grew. In a desperate attempt to surprise him he jumped into the air hoping to distract him and gain a killing blow. Day anticipated the move perfectly and threw the shorter blade upwards right into Lamort’s stomach, he collapsed on the floor recognising his defeat.

The humans hood combined with the darkness of the night hid his face from Lamort as he stood over him, his slightly curved blade resting on Lamort’s throat.

“You fought well. Honour to you and your house. I could use a warrior such as yourself, Lamort son of Drago, Captain of the God Slayers.”

“Do I have a choice?” chuckled Lamort weakly.

“Always.”

Lamort considered briefly. How could he say no? Any human who could best four Klingon's was the start a song that would be sung the length and breadth of the Empire. Lamort had no idea how right he was.

Authors note:
I'm aiming to move on to more character's that are familiar to you with the next post. Also to anyone afraid this is turning into some simple Federation bashing, I'm planning to give a little setback to the other side. Any suggestions or comments are greatly appreciated. Particularly on Day versus Klingons.
Thanks for reading.

The Impossible

"The impossible is what we couldn't do ten years ago."
My Time on the Enterprise, by Montgomery Scott

Section 31 Headquarters, June 20th, 2378

Mr Creedy was not a happy man. And when he wasn’t happy people tended to die. It wasn’t anything personal, he was only ever unhappy when the Federation was threatened and right now the Federation was in grave danger. Not the obvious kind, not like the Dominion or the Borg. No, this threat came from within. Jason Day. He glanced down at the file in front of him. He tutted mentally, wasn’t even the man’s real name in all likleyhood. The profile was very bare to say it had been done by Section 31. No picture. No date of birth. The tenous conclusion that he was humanoid, most likely Human and male. He tapped his fingers on the desk in frustration, months of work and this was the result. Nothing.

He couldn’t even be sure of Day’s objective. That he was behind a series of thefts and acts of violence against Starfleet, was for certain, but beyond that they knew virtually nothing. Whoever these people were they were well armed, well organised and incredibly secretive. Perhaps most disturbing was the suggestion that they might know about Section 31, the biggest piece of evidence for this was the reality that the level of secrecy they were employing was simply not necessary against ordinary Starfleet and Federation Intelligence services.

In truth they had little experience with this kind of threat. Usually it was far more obvious. The Tal Shiar, the Obsidian Order when it had existed, the Klingon Intelligence Services and all the rest were known quantity’s. Apart from the occasional politically motivated outlandish plot they did little. They knew about Section 31 and knew that they were outclassed.

But Day’s organisation... They were something else entirely. Incredibly secretive and embedded in the Federation but also operating in unknown locations outside of Federation borders. Something had to be done and quickly. Perhaps a quick crushing blow on one of their bases? Shake them out of their confidence and they might make a mistake. He glanced at the locations of their known bases of operation. If he ordered only one destroyed it might lead them to think they were still hidden from Section 31’s eyes. No. He needed something stronger... All? Yes all would be perfect. Especially if he made it seem that it was the regular intelligence services, they would be led to believe they had been overconfident and they might reveal themselves further believing they had already been exposed. Creedys mouth twitched slightly, the closest the man could come to a smile, as he opened a communication channel to his head of Ops.

Qu’onos, June 22nd, 2378

Worf, son of Mogh, stared in dismay at the dismembered bodies of four Klingon warriors. Two were beheaded, one was missing half a leg and the last had a dagger embedded in his right eye socket. It seemed the universe wasn’t happy the seemingly never-ending stream of Klingon dead on their way to Sto-vohkor.

Normally this kind of thing had nothing to do with Worf but an old friend had asked to get involved as a personal favour. These warriors commanding officer was his eldest son, the only one whose corpse was not present. Whispers that he had fled whomever had killed his subordinates had already cropped up and so his father had asked Worf to find his son and halt any talk of dishonour.

He knew relatively little unfortunately. There were no dead enemy combatants nor any blood that could be accounted for by those present. His friends eldest son, Lamort, blood had also been found and no small amount. But where had he gone? He had to have had such an injury treated yet his location was still unknown. There enemy had used bladed weaponry that was obvious from there injuries that would seem to indicate other Klingon's, as no other race’s commonly used such weapons. But why attack? This group had no house affiliation, there were from different backgrounds. All part of the Qu’onos garrison.

The level of dismemberment was impressive, it took a lot of strength to cut off limbs and heads from those angles. Or else a very sharp blade. Bat’leth’s despite technically falling under the catergory of “swords” were relatively slow and cumbersome and not designed to cut the head off an opponent. One of the attackers had also clearly utilised two weapons, simultaneously beheading two of the warriors. Worf crouched down scanning the neck area with his tri-corder and frowned. There was unknown substance in the wounds, metal certainly but forged in a way he didn’t recognise. Well if there was one place in the galaxy to get information on an unknown substance it was Starfleet. He would contact his friends there and get there opinion. Hopefully they could shed some light on this mystery but his friend incurred any dishonour.

“Well Worf, you’re not going to believe this but the weapon that took the heads off those Klingon's is an ancient earth weapon. Originally made in Japan in the Medieval period, it’s called a katana and is made of metal folded over a hundred times! This one is a particularly fine specimen, I had an old Professor who was born in Japan take a look at what you sent me and he said only a master smith could have forged something like that. The weapon is very old as well, it may well have been made in Medieval Japan, but the sample you sent me is too small to get anything definitive. Only a tricorder could pick up the trace material left behind by that sword!” finished Geordie excitedly.

Worf frowned, even more confused than he had been before. “What about the other samples?”

“They were all exactly the same Worf, its the same weapon every time.

“So, what your telling me is that one person, probably a human, defeated five Klingon warriors?

“I’m not telling you anything Worf, these are just the facts. I’m finding it hard to believe myself, the idea of anyone defeating five klingons especially in hand to hand combat is pretty crazy. But a lone human armed with medieval weapon? That’s even crazier.”

“My thanks Commander La Forge, if you learn anything else please let me know. I’m particularly interested in where you can get these weapons. Worf out.” Geordie nodded his assent as and Worf closed the channel to Federation space.

Worf considered what he knew. Defeating multiple opponents even Klingon's was not impossible for the skilled, he had done so himself in the past. But it was not an everyday occurrence and the idea that a human was capable of it... Well the possibilities were endless, it could be a Klingon trying to hide his identity or a cyborg or.... anything. He would have to wait for more facts. In the mean time he would begin contacting traffic control, to see if anyone had seen Lamort. He rubbed his ridges in frustration, this is what honour got you.

Fact and Belief

"The sweetness of victory and the bitterness of defeat are alike a knife of dreams"
Fog and Steel by Madoc Comadrin

Alpha Centauri, July 4th, 2378

Victoria leaned back on her chair balancing it on two legs, completely at her ease as she played poker, the old clichés in full force. They were sat around an old wooden table, the players were wearing clothing that might have passed for normal in 21st century Earth but would have stood out on any Federation world, indeed the whole quadrant. Most were smoking, not normal cigarettes that practice had finally been recognised as completely useless and abandoned centuries ago, instead they smoked the favoured recreational drug of their ancestors, so easy to get it the packaging looked legal. The dimly lit warehouse they were sat in completed the image.

“Wonder when Ammar is going to let us leave this miserable little warehouse” said Victoria, shuffling her cards.

“No point speculating, when he does he will.” Said Amor, an Andorian.

“What does that even mean “when he does he will”, honestly Amor sometimes you are so full of crap! That statement is so obvious that it defies belief, I want to know the when! That’s the whole point!” laughed Victoria.

“Yes but you keep going on about it! We have no way of guessing so we will just have to sit here until he does decide to remember we exist and sends for us.”

“It’s been a month already! I mean what is the point? We sit here any longer and even Starfleet intelligence will...” Her words were cut short by a phaser, fortunately set to the stun. Victoria slumped forward on the table with a loud thump. Her words it seemed had proved somewhat prophetic.

Her companions leapt from the table flipping it over as they went, to provide cover as they ran for the exits. It was too late however. Section 31 had made sure that Starfleet Intelligence took the matter quite seriously and accordingly the whole building was surrounded.
The realisation that there exits were blocked by phaser wielding security officers dawned on Amor rather quickly. They had only once chance, to attempt to break out and it would be done disruptors blazing.

Crouched behind some crates Amor turned to his companions, two humans and a Vulcan. “We need to make a break for it, at least one of us needs to get away and tell Ammar what has happened here. If Starfleet Intelligence has discovered the Order then things are far worse than we had realised.” He received confident nods of assent, these people were well trained and believed fiercely in the cause. “Alright then I’ll provide covering fire, on my mark, one, two, mark!”

Amor stood and fired off a quick succession of shots from his disruptor at the approaching security officers forcing them to dive for cover. Behind him the others began running firing as they went, headed towards the main streets of New Manchester, Alpha Centauri’s main city. Firing a few more blasts, Amor turned and sprinted after his fellows, he stayed low as he ran which protected him from a phaser blast in the back. His heart pounded loudly and he forced himself to maintain awareness of his surroundings.

One of the humans fell to a phaser, luckily still set to stun the Federations morality proving a blessing even to its rebels. The remaining human and Vulcan picked up the pace and it seemed for a moment as if they would break the cordon surrounding them. Then they were caught in a crossfire and both collapsed to the ground.

Amor knew he caught not go that way or else suffer the same fate. Instead his eyes turned to a nearby building, one with ground floor windows. He took aim, fired, and shattered the glass of a first floor apartment building. He sprinted towards the opening, phaser fire narrowly missing him as he jumped through the broken window. Overjoyed at his escape he ran straight into the arms of the Section 31 agents who had been observing the raid. They were dressed in civilian clothes but it was quite obvious that they did not live here. If they were discovered it would be difficult to explain there presence away and what if this Andorian told Starfleet intelligence about them? There recording equipment and tricorders were quite obvious. The ranking agent decided upon the simplest solution, his own disruptor took off most of the Andorians head. It would now seem as if he had been killed by one of his own, seeing as how they were all armed with the disruptors as well. The Section 31 Agents quickly left the building, leaving the body of the first casualty in a yet unnamed war.

تكريم سقطوا

Translation: “Honour to the Fallen”
Ammar ibn Khairan, upon hearing of Amors death.

London, Earth, July 6th, 2378

‘Section 31 has overplayed there hand’ thought the man everyone knew as Jason Day. ‘By killing Amor with a disruptor they may have hidden themselves from Starfleet but they have revealed themselves to me. There obsession with remaining hidden from the very people they are meant to protect will yet be there undoing. I now know they are aware of us and the game takes on a whole new meaning. As they have shown they will not hesitate to kill any of my people and I doubt they are above torture, despite how useless it is.’ He sipped his green tea, it was still too hot so he set it down on the mahogany table.

Standing he walked over to the balcony and leant on the railing as he took in the view. London had escaped the worst of Earths dark times, canny leadership combined with the latest technology had protected them from nuclear annihilation. Britain had always managed to survive and the island remained unconquered, in the traditional manner, though any illusion of sovereignty had of course long been made irrelevant. He had not been born here yet his ancestors had been, and he identified himself with its culture and heritage. From here he could see St.Pauls cathedral a relic of the past but a beautiful building none the less. It had more character and majesty than every Federation building he had ever seen. Where was the legacy or the glory in endless forests of steel and glass?

So. Now they had been discovered what was the next course of action? They were not ready to force the issue openly but how long could they maintain secrey? If Section 31 discovered there true objective, it would severely hinder the movement, so a distraction was needed. Something more common place or seemingly exotic enough that Section 31 would believe it. He had to be careful however, it would not do to tarnish there image if they were to succeed. However if he could make Section 31 believe that they were... terrorists? Perhaps based around a cult? Give anything religious overtones and the Federation wouldn’t look too closely. The only issue was with those already captured he wasn’t worried about what Starfleet would do with them, nothing being the answer to that. But if Section 31 got their hands on them, then they would discover what they were really about. Though thankfully they knew little more than that.

So, a plan to break his operatives out of their incarceration before Section 31 got to them and begin making some noisy moves to acquire explosives and plant information about “targets” to known Starfleet intelligence operatives. He needed four more months. Perhaps this plan would give them to him.

He turned back into his penthouse apartment and opened a channel. He waited as the signal was re-routed through several other communications array and piggy backed onto Starfleet signals. Five minutes later the familiar face of Chakotay appeared on screen.

“Ah Chakotay, it’s good to see a friendly face.”

“Likewise. What’s on your mind my lord?”

“The future as always. But more specifically theres some people that need rescuing, friends of ours. I believe your former Starfleet connections could prove useful in this regard.”

“You mean those captured in the recent raids? You know where there being held?”

“Yes, Ammar’s recent... work... has proved invaluable in that regard. They are on Starbase 379, awaiting interrogation. Time is of the esscence Chakotay, Starfleet Intelligence does not concern but Section 31 does. They need retrieving as soon as possible or else... silencing.” Chakotay frowned in response. “I know it’s distasteful but if Section 31 discovers what we are really about it could be the end of everything. Do everything you can to rescue them first but if you run out of options let me know and I may be able to provide a more...drastic solution that could save them at the same time. But remember Chakotay, there is a price to pay for the future we envision you have to be able to accept that burden and everything that comes with it. This is war make no mistake and there are casualties in every war.”

Chakotay nodded reluctantly “ I know but it doesn’t make it any easier.”

“Nor should it. But you must carry the guilt not let it overwhelm you. Now, can I count on you to get these people out?”

“Of course my lord. I have enough friends in Starfleet that I think I can manage it however it may mean ending those connections once the mission is completed, I will be marked as an enemy of the Federation once more.”

“Try and maintain your innocence as far as they are concerned. But do not be overly concerned, your Maquis past makes you too suspicious in the long term, there are others better placed.”

“As you will my lord.” Chakotay bowed his head in respect, a gesture which Day returned before closing the channel.

Chakotay was a loyal follower, filled with burning resentment against the Federation for its failure to protect first its own citizens against the Cardassians and later the Maquis from the Dominion. He had been horrified to discouver the Maquis’ fate upon Voyagers return to the Alpha Quadrant. He had been easy to recruit along with the rest of Voyagers Maquis crewmen and women. It was there connection with Voyager that he most valued.

Somehow Voyager had managed to make it through the entire Delta Quadrant, fighting through the Borg and numerous other races. But most importantly they had acquired a great deal of new technology. It was all still on board amazingly. The ship had been put into active duty almost immediately upon its return, the Dominion War had left the Federation dangerously under strength. Though it had been temporarily crewed and captained by others, it was now once again under the command of the newly promoted Admiral Janeway and most of the old crew. It seemed that Starfleet command was regretting their decision to promote Janeway to Admiral, she was not really flag officer material and many of her decisions in the Delta Quadrant had been more than... questionable. So realising there mistake they had stuck her back on Voyager to babysit the ship and take care of an unimportant region of Federation space to the galactic south. It was only a matter of time before Starfleet realised the true extent of the treasure trove of technology and knowledge onboard and recalled Voyager. One thing in particular would drive them wild, subspace corridors. Very easy to use and naturally occurring these corridors allowed starships to reach speeds that would allow them to cross the galaxy in mere months as opposed to years.

If he could gain this technology, it would be the final piece he needed to secure his vision for the future. That was where Chakotay came in of course. He would be the lure to reel in Voyager.

Starbase 379, July 10th, 2378

Chakotay hid his nerves well as he identified himself to the security officer for docking bay 13 on Starbase 379. In the end it had been quite easy to gain access to the Starbase/detention centre, he had contacted some old friends from his day on Voyager and asked that he be allowed to visit one of the prisoners on behalf of an elderly relative. The sob story combined with their history had gained him permission quickly.

He nodded his thanks as the security officer waved him on through, a bored expression on his face. Starbase 379 was hardly at the centre attention for just about anything in the Federation, as space stations went it couldn’t be further away in terms of importance from somewhere like DS9 for instance. Boredom led to apathy and apathy to carelessness. Chakotay was relying on that lax security to complete his mission.

As he walked along the gentle sloping corridors that were so characteristic of Starfleet he considered for the thousandth time what he had got himself into. Betraying the trust of friends he had endured years of trials with for a man he barely new, for a cause that might yet fall into ruin no matter what Day said. Yet the souls of the dead Maquis cried out for vengeance and this seemed the best way to create a world where never again would innocents be abandoned for an easy peace.

He still hated the Cardassians of course, and he hated what Starfleet had done when they abandoned the colonists of the Demilitarised Zone to their fate. This was not simple revenge he told himself this was about ensuring a better future.

He glanced around, the corridor was empty. He walked over quickly to a door which opened as he approached. Internal security was always lax in Starfleet vessels and bases the assumption being that anyone on board was on their side. He entered the room, which was one of a dozen rooms dedicated to providing back up storage and computing power for the starbase. He opened his bag and pulled out a small black box. This “box” was of Ferengi manufacture designed for smuggling it would protect the contents inside from everything but the most intense scanning. He pulled the device out. The device resembled a ball with covered in spikes of different lengths, he activated it pushing it gently against the surface the information node. It slid through easily.

It was called a “TPD” or “Trojan Phase Device”, essentially it was slightly out of phase with the rest of reality but only enough that it could placed inside any computer or network with detection but still receive and transmit data. It disappeared into the node, and Chakotay exited the room quickly, walking calmly down the corridor towards the detention area. Even now the TPD was integrating itself with the system making itself indistinguishable from both the physical circuits and the rest of the date network.

Chakotay arrived at the cell block where the prisoners captured in the recent raids were being kept. Naturally Starfleet kept them all in the same place, he sighed slightly. It was disappointing how vulnerable Starfleet really was, when your eyes were opened to it. He entered the room and approached the guard behind the security desk.

“My names Chakotay, I’m here to see prisoner 1134.” He handed the officer his pass.

“Commander Chakotay! It’s an honour sir! It’s the fifth cell along sir!” he replied excitedly. Chakotay cringed inwardly at the admiration the young ensign clearly had for him but smiled broadly and stuck out his hand. The ensign obliged him grasping it firmly, suddenly Chakotay pulled him forward and pressed a hypospray againt his neck. The ensign collapsed unconscious. He would not remember anything from the last few hours. Chakotay checked the time and sighed, now for the final act, one which would ensure that his reputation remained untarnished. He raised a different hypo spray to his neck and injected himself, he collapsed almost instantly.

Prisoner 1134 or T’orel as he was more commonly known stared in surprise, which as a Vulcan appropriatley did not show on his face, at the collapsed forms of the security officer and another human he vaguely recognised... a Commander Chakotay from the USS Voyager? Yes that was him. Seconds after this realisation the lights went out, as power for Starbase 379 was deactivated. He had only a second to comprehend this before he disappeared in swirl of blue light.

Pride of New Baltimore, Outside Starbase 379, July 10th, 2378

“There all aboard captain, along with Chakotays equipment.”

“Excellent. Get us out of here immediately, warp 9.”

“Aye aye Sir.”

Captain Jackson smiled to himself. The plan had gone off without a hitch, its simplicity meaning nothing had gone wrong. Even as they headed away from the starbase at maximum warp the power would have been reactivated and soon enough they would discover the prisoners escape. They would find Chakotay of course but presume him to be a victim of the attack, they had transported any incriminating evidence along with the prisoners.

“Set course for New Baltimore, well transfer our little jailbirds onto the Memory of the Fallen and they can get underway to the Badlands.”

“Aye aye sir.”

Authors Note:
Hope you are enjoying the story so far. Any feedback would be much appreciated!

What has gone before, Part 1

“I remember it even now so clearly. I was born on Turkana IV in 2351, we were one of the “Failed Colonies”. We were part of the Federations silent embarrassment, our fellow humans preferred we suffer then admit we exist. I survived because I followed one man, I follow him still.”
What I Have Seen, Ammar ibn Khairan

Turkana IV, Winter, 2365

The wind howled loudly as it raced through the ruins of Turkana IV’s capital city, screaming as if it was one the planets victims. Snow covered the rubble that had once been homes, libraries, hospitals, civic centres, government and all the symbols of civilisation. There was no civilisation left on Turkana IV only the horrors of humanity at its worst.

Ammar ibn Khairan was crouched behind the ruined remains of what had once been the civic heart of Turkana IV, not that he or anyone else knew that’s what it was anymore. He trembled uncontrollably as the sound of the rape gangs jeering filled the air. He glanced at the girl hiding next to him, they would kill him, quickly if he was lucky, but her...

“We’ve got to go! They’re going to find us!” Ammar whispered. She shook her head in response clearly too terrified to move. He grabbed her, intending to drag her away but she refused to budge. The cries of the gangs filled the air as they began to get closer. His teeth chattered against his will. “Please! They’re going to get here any second!” He grabbed her arm again “Please!” he half sobbed.

But it was too late and she was too paralysed by fear. Hating himself Ammar prepared to run but he had unwittingly sacrificed himself in an attempt to save a fellow human being. As he stood a hand grabbed his hair dragging him over the wall with a freakish induced by the constant use of Stim drugs.

“Loookeee here boys!!” the voice giggled filled with madness. “I got me a live one! And whats this...” He dropped Ammar as two of his fellows arrived. He leapt over the wall and crouched by the girl, she couldn’t have been more than fourteen, and stroked her cheek as she whimpered in sheer undiluted terror. “Well well. Looks like we hit the jackpot!” They laughed loudly as his hands went to his belt. Ammar lay in the dirt the uselessness of struggle rendering him immobile.

“Well let’s see if we can make this little bird sing in the meantime” One of the others grabbed Ammar and drew a serrated blade encrusted in dried blood. “Afraid boy?” he whispered. Ammar was unable to take his eyes of the blade as it grew steadily closer, closer, closer. Suddenly the knife fell away as his would be torturer collapsed twitching with an arrow in the throat.
Leant against the wall Ammar watched as a fast moving figure charged the dead gangsters puzzled comrade from behind and slammed a bar of steel into the back of his head with a sickening crunch. Ammar’s saviour leapt over the wall and barrelled into the last gang member. Standing he turned to look over the other side of the ruined wall, the gang member and the mysterious figure were grappling in attempt to sink a knife into one another. They struggled for a few seconds more before the gangster weakened and died as a consequence, his opponents blade sinking into his neck and the inevitable spray of blood as the knife pierced a major artery.
Ammar jumped over to the wall to find the girl wide eyed, top hanging open but otherwise unharmed. She was staring at the body of the man who had attacked her, as the his killer stripped the body of anything useful. He walked past them without glancing as he proceeded to the same to other dead gang members. Ammar lifted the girl to her feet and she leant on him her ordeal leaving her weak.

“My names Lawrence. You two had better follow me, the rest of their gang will arrive soon wondering where they’ve gone. I can take you somewhere were you will be safe.” They stared at him wide eyed disbelief etched on their faces at the idea of anywhere being safe. Lawrence laughed but it had no humour in it. “Would you prefer to stay here?” They shook there heads emphatically. “I didn’t think so. This way then.”


Counter Attack

Section 31 Headquarters, July 15th, 2378

Mr Creedy was pleased, comparatively at least. They finally knew the story behind the name and had a face to go without, a simple spelling mistake had hidden the information from them. Though Creedy suspected it might have been a deliberate attempt on Day’s part to hide his past from the authorities. He began to read the report:

Jasun Day, Federation Militia, Dominion War, Starfleet, Federation Database

Name: Jasun Day
Rank: Captain
Status: De-commissioned
Sex: Male
Age:Unknown
Homeworld: Turkana IV
Joined Militia: 2373

Service Record: Battle of the Taanhauser Gate, Battle of Orion Prime, 9TH Fleet engagements 17-36, 12th Fleet engagements 25-42, Battle for Cardassia Prime.

Special Operations

Decorations:
• James T. Kirk Medal of Honor
• Palm Leaf of Axanar
• .Chrisopher Pike Medal of Valor
• Grankite Order of Tactics
• Starfleet Wound Decoration
• Dominion War Medal (Campaign)
• Karagite Order of Heroism
• Intelligence Cross
• Grankite Order of Tactics, Class of Merit
• Service Commendation

He closed the file and leant back in his chair hands steepled as he gazed out of the window into the starry blackness. Had this been a regular Starfleet report it would have been considered shockingly lacking in detail. There was no pysch report or any of the usual trappings of a Starfleet personal file. The difference was of course that Day had been a member of the Federation Militia, volunteers that had filled the ranks of the Marines and non-commissioned ranks of Starfleet during the Dominion War.

But Day’s records spoke volumes of his ability. He had been promoted swiftly and often until he had become Captain of his starship, the only member of the Federation Militia to do so. There had been some controversy about allowing someone who hadn’t attended Starfleet academy to become a Starship Captain but in the end his record had spoken for itself. He had become Admiral Freeman’s unofficial right hand man performing many solo missions and being consulted on many strategies. His work with Special Operations was...impressive. He had been involved in the majority of Starfleet’s unofficial assassination missions, aimed at killing key Vorta and Cardissian officials throughout the war.

So he now knew the identity of the leader of the most dangerous internal movement the Federation had ever faced. Details of his past remained elusive but he could surmise allot from the identity of his homeworld, Tankura IV. As for the intervening years between the end of the Dominion War and now, he could guess enough to get by on. Now to lay a trap for this once loyal defender of the Federation. It’s a shame really he thought, he would have made an excellent addition to Section 31.

USS Voyager, July 15th , 2378

“Admiral, we have a signal coming in... It originates in the Badlands!”

“Onscreen!” said Janeway. A blurred image of Chakotay her former XO filled the view screen.

“Katherine! There after me! I need your help! It’s a conspiracy, don’t contact anyone, I don’t know how far this goes. I’ve included coordinates in this transmission I need you to get me out of her and I’ll tell you everything! Please hurry!!”. The transmission ended and the screen reverted to the Starfleet emblem.

Janeway sat back in her chair. Chakotay in trouble.... “Mr Paris set course for those coordinates and let’s see if we can’t help an old friend. Warp 9.

“Yes Ma’am.” Replied Paris.

In the badlands Chakotay sighed. Janeway would already be on her way, her concern for him overriding any common sense. By including the idea of a conspiracy he had guaranteed she would tell no one. He felt bad taking advantage of her like this but it really was necessary. He keyed in some commands to the console in front of him and sent the confirmation code that signalled the end of the USS Voyager.

Tannhauser gate? Really? REALLY?!

I'm sorry, I'm trying to read your story but for some reason it just fails to engage me. I don't know if its the writing style or what, but I don't even care about WORF and he's one of my favorite people. I don't know who Jason Day is, but he seems to be a Mary Sue/Jason Bourne clone. And why is all of voyager's future-tech still onboard YEARS after it got home? Especially when you consider the episode ended with them landing ON EARTH I can't imagine they wouldn't take 40 hours to offload everything.

Haha you know I think your absolutely right. I'm too busy for this to work. Ah well.

One of the problems is that it's difficult to read because you still aren't fixing your stupid basic errors.

“Katherine! There after me!"

That's 'they're.' So much crap like that. I'm still seeing the errors in punctuation, the same run-on sentences, and the same stupid little typoes that are all too common ("pysch report." Enough said.) You obviously don't proofread anything and it shows. Every time I see that "peoples idea's" thread title in Fantasy I want to apply a wooden ruler to your hands. I doubt you'd learn since it doesn't even seem like you care, but at least you'd stop typing for a little while.

And you replied and used "your" instead of "you're." Times like this I consider changing my title to Grammar Nazzie.

CaptainChewbacca wrote:I'm sorry, I'm trying to read your story but for some reason it just fails to engage me.

I've been skimming it and my admittedly first glance impression is it seems far too much of a "the Federation is really Haven from the Honor Harrington series, watch our heroes restore it to freedom capitalism apple pie and the Spartafreedomerican way" type fic for my taste. Then again I'm just personally heartily sick of that meme, and that's sort of a subjective thing.

Morningstar wrote:It was not replicated of course, he saw replicating food as barbaric and lazy, the difference was discernible. Many agreed with him of course but it remained a niche market to cater to the 'organics' as they were known, it was simply too convenient to replicate any food in your home, far easier than cooking it yourself or travel elsewhere. It made him sick. The Federation bred apathy and he could no longer sit by as the inevitable disaster occurred.

Convenient food options are evil?

There are a lot of weaknesses with this, both in terms of the story and the writing style. I had an initial concept but simply don't have the time I need to make it worth reading.

Locked as per author request.
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