6

"Space. The Final Frontier. These are the voyages of the Starship Enterprise. It's continuing mission: to explore strange new worlds, to seek out new life and new civilizations, to boldly go where no one has gone before..."

Based upon 'Star Trek', created by Gene Roddenberry.

Chapter One: All Clear

Edward Holden made his way into the dark office, remembering the compound's once royal state. Much had changed since Captain Holden had last visited his self-assigned homeworld. He'd not been born on Ivor, nor had he spent his childhood there. Holden hadn't set foot on the planet until much later in life, when he'd arrived on a shuttle from Deep-Space Five, where the ex-Starfleet officer had served out the pitiful end of his career.

At the time, newly rebuilt Ivor had a gleaming , modern edge, a comforting contrast to Holden's true origin: the increasingly industrial Starfleet engine the planet Earth was becoming. Ivor's glory had since faded.

Mart's had not. The man stood in front of the sole window, the right half of his confident face revealed by a sliver of light as he peered through the barely open blinds. His concentration did not break. "Holden, welcome. It's been some time."

Holden nodded. As he approached the man, he did not feel as though he was in the presence of an old friend, but instead a cautious adversary. Mart's voice was low, steady, and calculating, his breathing measured, his focus unmoving. He turned around in a grandiose fashion, smiling, slightly at Holden as he poised himself behind his bare, metallic desk.

Holden was closer, now, and in the light reflecting off of the desk he could see that Mart was wearing a relic; a scarlet Starfleet dress uniform, adorned with proud pins and badges Holden had long ago forgotten the significance of. He examined Holden, squinting in the dimness of his office, as though trying to see him, through the fog of time, as he was the last time they met. "Captain Holden," he said, chuckling.

"Premier Marton," Holden replied, smiling warmly. He shook the hand of the most powerful man on Ivor, wondering how the crime lord weaseled his way into the position. Mart wondered the same about Holden. "You work here?"

"Officially, yes. This is the office of Premier Thom Marton. There's not a nicer place on all of Ivor." Mart smiled to himself, knowingly, with superiority.

Holden coughed. "A bit stuffy. isn't it? And dark?"

"I prefer 'inconspicuous'"

Captain Holden laughed, nodding. "That proves that you're the right man for the job."

The Premier shifted his weight onto his elbow, leaning toward Holden across the desk. "What job would that be, Ed?"

"How's first officer sound?"

"Sounds nice. Official. Is Starfleet hiring again?"

"If they were, they wouldn't be scouting out candidates on Ivor."

"You have a point. So what is this about?"

"I need a first officer."

"To serve on the U.S.S Shuttlecraft?"

Holden expected ridicule from Mart. He reached for the communicator in his collar. "Two to beam up," He announced into it.

Within seconds the two men were standing in the transporter room of a Federation Starship. The gleaming white walls momentarily blinded them, having been beamed up from the dark room. A woman stood at the console, dressed in a pinstriped vest and pants. Beneath her vest she wore a skin-tight black shirt. Tall, young, with a satisfied expression across her face, she approached them.

"Thank you, Xandre, " Holden said, clutching the woman's shoulder kindly. "This is the Ivorian Premier, Thom Marton."

"Hello." Mart said, recovering from the shock of being transported into her presence. "It's been quite some since I've used a transporter."

"I can identify," Holden told him, "Xandre has only recently gotten the transporters online." He held Xandre again, "This is Xandre, first officer, chief engineer, and occasional helms-woman."

Xandre shook Mart's hand. "Nice to meet you, Premier."

"Ed was joking," Mart pointed out, "Call me Mart."

"That's fine, but on this ship, it's Captain Holden," Holden said, smiling.

"Who did you steal this from, Captain?" Mart joked.

Xandre answered for him. "That's a secret." She led the way out of the transporter room, into the hallway toward a turbolift.

"We'll go to the 6th level observation deck to go over some things. And have drinks, or course."

Captain Holden, along with his senior officers and Premier Marton, sat in smooth chairs around the long conference table of the observation deck. The table, positioned under an expansive window, provided the meeting party with a thoughtful view of the planet Ivor. Holden, at his obligatory place at the table's head, looked at each of his crew member's faces, considering them, pondering what he was about to say. Possesed, then, with an idealistic sense of adventure, he stood.

The group gathered on the once sleek Federation vessel did not very much resemble the ship's original crew. Each wore his own clothes, mostly shuttle flight suits, mechanic's tunics, or casual garb from far corners of the galaxy. Holden wore nothing to signify his position, save an expression that communicated vision and confidence. As he began to speak, he was reminded that his audience was composed of not just his crew, but his friends.

"Most of you know a majority of what I am about to say," he started, "Mart, this will be new information only to you."

Mart nodded as Holden focused on him. "I think you would find it helpful to use the viewscreen at your seat." He switched on the monitor.

Holden then typed something into the console at his own seat. The image of Ivor was then replaced with a data readout from a computer. The same readout was displayed on Mart's viewscreen.

"These figures represent," the Captain explained, "the flight paths of over eleven thousand interstellar vessels throughout Alpha Quadrant over the last fifteen years. Each of these," he said, pointing to the rows of data in the table, "is a starbase, space station, or other Federation checkpoint in Alpha Quadrant that is still operational and transmitting data."

A new image appeared. Holden paused as those assembled examined the map that was now being projected onto the wall. "This," he said, "is a graphic representation of the data we just saw. The flight paths are projected on a map of Alpha Quadrant. Under review, some patterns become apparent. You'll notice," he paused, zooming in on a particular portion of the map, "that the traffic along this route has reduced significantly in the observation period."

The map then shrunk, as the area around it was replaced by maps of the same sector of Alpha Quadrants. Each map was captioned by a stardate. "If we compare the traffic in this sector year by year, we see this dwindling effect quite clearly. Similarly, if we examine the entirety of Alpha Quadrant," the small maps were succeeded by maps of Alpha Quadrant, each with varying flight paths, "we see the localization of interstellar travel. Fifteen years ago," Holden enlarged the first map, "most of these ships were travelling along Federation routes," he pointed to well-defined groups of overlapping, fairly straight flight paths, "occasionally stopping at well known Federation colonies. As we progress," the maps began succeeding each other, in order, on a loop, "the ships begin to veer away from these traditional flight paths. Even further along, it becomes apparent that most ships have stopped using these routes altogether. What's clear now, starting about five years ago, is that these vessels are, with increasing rarity, traversing large distances."

A new map filled the screen now: Alpha quadrant, with pronounced, decentralized areas of traffic. "This is the combined traffic of the last five years in Alpha Quadrant. There are very clear localized regions of traffic here," he said, pointing to one of these regions, "and here. The ships very seldom leave these small groups of systems." He stopped, suddenly, and sat back down. He eyes the group, leaning forward.

"Thoughts?"