FanFiction Based on Gene Roddenberry's Star Trek Series
StarTrek A new Beginning
BOOK THREE
Afterlight
UNITEDFEDERATION OF PLANETS
STARFLEETCOMMAND — MISSION ARCHIVE DIVISION
CLASSIFIEDMISSION FILE
USSCamelot, NCC 1975
Operation:A NEW BEGINNING — BOOK THREE
TABLEOF CONTENTS
BetweenBooks — Inter Mission Transition Log
Prologue— Starfleet Emergency Briefing
Chapter1 — The Aftershock: Post Engagement Structural & MedicalReport
Chapter2 — The First Breach: Unknown Intrusion Event Analysis
Chapter3 — Medics Under Fire: Emergency Response & Triage Log
Chapter4 — The Breath Before the Storm: Tactical Silence Assessment
Chapter5 — The Gathering Storm: Fleet Wide Mobilization Orders
Chapter6 — The Aftermath: Damage Control & Survivor Accounts
Chapter7 — The Memorial Service: Crew Loss Recognition Ceremony
Chapter8 — Afterlight: Commanding Officer’s Strategic Reflection
Epilogue— Final Log Entry
TheSpace Between Heartbeats
TheCamelot drifted in darkness.
Notthe darkness of deep space — this was different.
Thicker.Older. Alive.
Thevortex had spat them out hours ago, leaving the ship battered,systems flickering, crew shaken but alive.
Philipstood on the bridge, staring at the viewscreen.
Nothing.
Nostars.
Noplanets.
Onlya vast, swirling void of green black mist.
Themist pressed against the hull like something trying to listen.
Everyfew seconds, the void seemed to shift — not drifting, but reacting.
Atremor rolled through the deck plating, faint but unmistakable.
Thelights dimmed for a heartbeat, then steadied.
Hefelt the weight of the crew behind him — waiting, watching, afraidto breathe.
Cassiestepped beside him.
Daxjoined her.
TheFirst Hive emerged.
Philipfelt the Queen.
Hervoice wasn’t words — just hunger.
Somethingolder stirred… and noticed them.
Fadeto black.
BETWEENBOOKS
DAYSLATER
TheCamelot drifted silently through the green black void, hulllights dimmed to conserve power. Repairs were underway, but slowly —the anomaly had scrambled half the ship’s systems, and the voidoutside offered no navigational reference, no subspace signals, nostars.
Faintsounds echoed through the corridors — soft taps, distant creaks —noises no one could source. The temperature felt a few degrees colderthan it should have been, as if the void outside pressed its chillthrough the hull.
Crewmoved with a quiet, haunted focus. A junior officer slept slumpedover a table, exhaustion finally winning. A medic checked a crewman’spulse manually because tricorders kept glitching. Another officernursed a burnt hand from a blown conduit, staring blankly at nothing.
Themain lounge was dim, running on reduced power. The lights flickeredin a pattern — three short pulses, a pause, then two long —before stabilizing again. No one could explain it.
EnsignMarlowe stepped inside for the first time since the vortex. He’dtransferred from a science vessel to escape the monotony of researchstations. Now he missed that quiet more than anything. He swallowedhard, trying to hide the fear twisting in his stomach.
Hiseyes were immediately drawn to the forward bulkhead.
Theplaque.
Asoft lighting strip illuminated the polished metal — until itflickered independently, dimming and brightening as if reacting tosomething unseen.
TheStarfleet delta.
TheCamelot’s registry.
Tennames engraved with reverence.
Someonehad left a single engineering pin at the base of the plaque — aquiet promise that the fallen were not forgotten. Marlowe noticedseveral crew touch the edge of the plaque as they passed, a smallritual that had formed in the days since the vortex.
Heapproached slowly, reading the names aloud in a whisper.
“LieutenantJora Tann… Operations Officer.”
“EnsignMarisol Trent… Helm Control.”
“ChiefPetty Officer Ralvek th’Zheris… Engineering Specialist.”
“CrewmanLian Vos… Security Division.”
“PettyOfficer Shira Vel… Medical Technician.”
“EnsignTorvak… Science Division.”
“SpecialistBrenn Korr… Communications Analyst.”
“CrewmanDalen Rourke… Damage Control.”
“LieutenantJunior Grade Kessa Vorin… Astrometrics.”
“PettyOfficer Third Class Darik Fen… Engineering Support.”
Hisvoice caught on the last name.
Heknew that one.
Fenhad been a year ahead of him at the Academy — the quiet Bolian whoalways helped first years with warp theory. Marlowe’s throattightened.
Acold prickle crawled up his spine.
Hefelt watched.
Hedidn’t hear the XO enter until she stood beside him.
“Theywere good people,” he said quietly. His voice cracked — just fora heartbeat — before he steadied it.
Marlowestraightened. “Commander — I didn’t mean to intrude.”
“You’renot intruding,” he replied. “This plaque is for all of us.”
Helooked back at the names. “I… didn’t know them.”
“Idid.” His voice softened, but there was steel beneath it. “Everyone of them died protecting this ship. Protecting us. They facedthings no Starfleet officer should ever have to face. And they didn’tbreak.”
Hetouched the edge of the plaque — the same gesture the crew hadadopted — a ritual of remembrance.
Marloweswallowed. “What happened to them?”
“Theyheld the line,” he said softly. “And because of them, the rest ofus made it back.”
Beforehe could say more, his combadge chirped.
“Bridgeto XO — we need you up here. Now.”
Herexpression shifted instantly.
“Onmy way.”
Hegave Marlowe one last look. “Remember them. That’s how they liveon.”
Heleft the lounge.
Marloweturned back to the plaque.
Thelights flickered again — the same three short, two longpattern.
Aharmonic vibration thrummed through the deck plating, matching thefrequency they’d heard in the vortex.
Asensor panel on the wall chirped, then glitched, displaying the samedistorted waveform from the moment the First Hive appeared.
Somewheredeep in the ship, a low rumble began to build.
PROLOGUE
Captain’s Log,Supplemental
Ithas been three days since the Camelot was pulled into the anomaly.Our emergence into this void left us without stars, without bearings,and without any indication of where — or when — we are.
We’verestored partial power. Engineering is stabilizing the warp core.Medical is treating the injured. The crew is exhausted, but steady.They always are.
Welost ten officers on our last mission. Their names are now etchedinto the lounge bulkhead, where the crew can honor them. Theirsacrifice weighs heavily on all of us.
Wedon’t know what brought us here. We don’t know how to get back.But the Camelot endures. And as long as she does, so will we.
Endlog.
K’Sighleaned back in his chair, rubbing an old injury along his ribs — areminder of battles past. He hesitated before standing, feeling theweight of command settle across his shoulders. His eyes drifted tothe small photo on his desk: the Camelot’s senior staff on launchday, smiling, whole.
“Well,”he muttered, “if I could actually send that to Starfleet, I’msure someone would appreciate the update… eventually.”
Heallowed himself a tired smile and pushed himself upright.
Afaint sensor chirp sounded — one that shouldn’t exist.
K’Sighfrowned and turned toward the viewport.
Adistortion rippled across the green black mist outside, like aheat shimmer in a vacuum.
Theair pressure shifted.
Thedeck plates groaned.
K’Sightook one step toward the door—
—andthe universe punched the Camelot.
Thedeck heaved violently. The lights snapped to red. A deep,bone shaking roar tore through the hull.
K’Sighwas thrown sideways, slamming into the bulkhead. His shoulder hitfirst, then his ribs, knocking the breath out of him. PADDs clatteredacross the floor.
Anotherjolt hit, harder than the first. The viewport flashed white as energyrippled past the ship.
“Bridge,report!” he barked, but the comm panel spat static.
Heshoved himself toward the door and slapped the control panel.
Nothing.
Thedoor was jammed.
Witha growl, he forced his fingers into the seam and pried the doorsapart just enough to slip through.
Smokedrifted in the corridor. Emergency lights flickered. The air tastedmetallic.
“Medic!We need a medic over here!” someone shouted.
Acrewman dragged another officer away from a sparking panel, bootsscraping across the deck. A fire suppression system misfiredoverhead, spraying a burst of white foam before sputtering out.
K’Sighmoved through the chaos, steadying a panicked ensign who nearlycollided with him.
“Easy,”he said, gripping the young man’s shoulders. “Breathe. Thenmove.”
Hehelped another crewman to their feet before pushing onward.
Theturbolift sparked violently — offline. He took the ladder wellinstead, climbing up two decks in seconds.
Anothertremor hit. He nearly lost his grip.
“Holdtogether, girl,” he muttered to the Camelot. “Just holdtogether.”
Hereached the bridge deck, shoved the hatch open—
—andstepped into chaos.
Aconsole exploded the moment he entered, showering sparks across thefloor. Two officers pulled a limp body away from a station, shoutingfor medical.
Thebridge was a storm of alarms, smoke, and shouting.
AndK’Sigh, breath ragged, eyes burning, stepped forward into the fire.
StarTrek A new Beginning
BOOK THREE
Afterlight
UNITEDFEDERATION OF PLANETS
STARFLEETCOMMAND — MISSION ARCHIVE DIVISION
CLASSIFIEDMISSION FILE
USSCamelot, NCC 1975
Operation:A NEW BEGINNING — BOOK THREE
TABLEOF CONTENTS
BetweenBooks — Inter Mission Transition Log
Prologue— Starfleet Emergency Briefing
Chapter1 — The Aftershock: Post Engagement Structural & MedicalReport
Chapter2 — The First Breach: Unknown Intrusion Event Analysis
Chapter3 — Medics Under Fire: Emergency Response & Triage Log
Chapter4 — The Breath Before the Storm: Tactical Silence Assessment
Chapter5 — The Gathering Storm: Fleet Wide Mobilization Orders
Chapter6 — The Aftermath: Damage Control & Survivor Accounts
Chapter7 — The Memorial Service: Crew Loss Recognition Ceremony
Chapter8 — Afterlight: Commanding Officer’s Strategic Reflection
Epilogue— Final Log Entry
TheSpace Between Heartbeats
TheCamelot drifted in darkness.
Notthe darkness of deep space — this was different.
Thicker.Older. Alive.
Thevortex had spat them out hours ago, leaving the ship battered,systems flickering, crew shaken but alive.
Philipstood on the bridge, staring at the viewscreen.
Nothing.
Nostars.
Noplanets.
Onlya vast, swirling void of green black mist.
Themist pressed against the hull like something trying to listen.
Everyfew seconds, the void seemed to shift — not drifting, but reacting.
Atremor rolled through the deck plating, faint but unmistakable.
Thelights dimmed for a heartbeat, then steadied.
Hefelt the weight of the crew behind him — waiting, watching, afraidto breathe.
Cassiestepped beside him.
Daxjoined her.
TheFirst Hive emerged.
Philipfelt the Queen.
Hervoice wasn’t words — just hunger.
Somethingolder stirred… and noticed them.
Fadeto black.
BETWEENBOOKS
DAYSLATER
TheCamelot drifted silently through the green black void, hulllights dimmed to conserve power. Repairs were underway, but slowly —the anomaly had scrambled half the ship’s systems, and the voidoutside offered no navigational reference, no subspace signals, nostars.
Faintsounds echoed through the corridors — soft taps, distant creaks —noises no one could source. The temperature felt a few degrees colderthan it should have been, as if the void outside pressed its chillthrough the hull.
Crewmoved with a quiet, haunted focus. A junior officer slept slumpedover a table, exhaustion finally winning. A medic checked a crewman’spulse manually because tricorders kept glitching. Another officernursed a burnt hand from a blown conduit, staring blankly at nothing.
Themain lounge was dim, running on reduced power. The lights flickeredin a pattern — three short pulses, a pause, then two long —before stabilizing again. No one could explain it.
EnsignMarlowe stepped inside for the first time since the vortex. He’dtransferred from a science vessel to escape the monotony of researchstations. Now he missed that quiet more than anything. He swallowedhard, trying to hide the fear twisting in his stomach.
Hiseyes were immediately drawn to the forward bulkhead.
Theplaque.
Asoft lighting strip illuminated the polished metal — until itflickered independently, dimming and brightening as if reacting tosomething unseen.
TheStarfleet delta.
TheCamelot’s registry.
Tennames engraved with reverence.
Someonehad left a single engineering pin at the base of the plaque — aquiet promise that the fallen were not forgotten. Marlowe noticedseveral crew touch the edge of the plaque as they passed, a smallritual that had formed in the days since the vortex.
Heapproached slowly, reading the names aloud in a whisper.
“LieutenantJora Tann… Operations Officer.”
“EnsignMarisol Trent… Helm Control.”
“ChiefPetty Officer Ralvek th’Zheris… Engineering Specialist.”
“CrewmanLian Vos… Security Division.”
“PettyOfficer Shira Vel… Medical Technician.”
“EnsignTorvak… Science Division.”
“SpecialistBrenn Korr… Communications Analyst.”
“CrewmanDalen Rourke… Damage Control.”
“LieutenantJunior Grade Kessa Vorin… Astrometrics.”
“PettyOfficer Third Class Darik Fen… Engineering Support.”
Hisvoice caught on the last name.
Heknew that one.
Fenhad been a year ahead of him at the Academy — the quiet Bolian whoalways helped first years with warp theory. Marlowe’s throattightened.
Acold prickle crawled up his spine.
Hefelt watched.
Hedidn’t hear the XO enter until she stood beside him.
“Theywere good people,” he said quietly. His voice cracked — just fora heartbeat — before he steadied it.
Marlowestraightened. “Commander — I didn’t mean to intrude.”
“You’renot intruding,” he replied. “This plaque is for all of us.”
Helooked back at the names. “I… didn’t know them.”
“Idid.” His voice softened, but there was steel beneath it. “Everyone of them died protecting this ship. Protecting us. They facedthings no Starfleet officer should ever have to face. And they didn’tbreak.”
Hetouched the edge of the plaque — the same gesture the crew hadadopted — a ritual of remembrance.
Marloweswallowed. “What happened to them?”
“Theyheld the line,” he said softly. “And because of them, the rest ofus made it back.”
Beforehe could say more, his combadge chirped.
“Bridgeto XO — we need you up here. Now.”
Herexpression shifted instantly.
“Onmy way.”
Hegave Marlowe one last look. “Remember them. That’s how they liveon.”
Heleft the lounge.
Marloweturned back to the plaque.
Thelights flickered again — the same three short, two longpattern.
Aharmonic vibration thrummed through the deck plating, matching thefrequency they’d heard in the vortex.
Asensor panel on the wall chirped, then glitched, displaying the samedistorted waveform from the moment the First Hive appeared.
Somewheredeep in the ship, a low rumble began to build.
PROLOGUE
Captain’s Log,Supplemental
Ithas been three days since the Camelot was pulled into the anomaly.Our emergence into this void left us without stars, without bearings,and without any indication of where — or when — we are.
We’verestored partial power. Engineering is stabilizing the warp core.Medical is treating the injured. The crew is exhausted, but steady.They always are.
Welost ten officers on our last mission. Their names are now etchedinto the lounge bulkhead, where the crew can honor them. Theirsacrifice weighs heavily on all of us.
Wedon’t know what brought us here. We don’t know how to get back.But the Camelot endures. And as long as she does, so will we.
Endlog.
K’Sighleaned back in his chair, rubbing an old injury along his ribs — areminder of battles past. He hesitated before standing, feeling theweight of command settle across his shoulders. His eyes drifted tothe small photo on his desk: the Camelot’s senior staff on launchday, smiling, whole.
“Well,”he muttered, “if I could actually send that to Starfleet, I’msure someone would appreciate the update… eventually.”
Heallowed himself a tired smile and pushed himself upright.
Afaint sensor chirp sounded — one that shouldn’t exist.
K’Sighfrowned and turned toward the viewport.
Adistortion rippled across the green black mist outside, like aheat shimmer in a vacuum.
Theair pressure shifted.
Thedeck plates groaned.
K’Sightook one step toward the door—
—andthe universe punched the Camelot.
Thedeck heaved violently. The lights snapped to red. A deep,bone shaking roar tore through the hull.
K’Sighwas thrown sideways, slamming into the bulkhead. His shoulder hitfirst, then his ribs, knocking the breath out of him. PADDs clatteredacross the floor.
Anotherjolt hit, harder than the first. The viewport flashed white as energyrippled past the ship.
“Bridge,report!” he barked, but the comm panel spat static.
Heshoved himself toward the door and slapped the control panel.
Nothing.
Thedoor was jammed.
Witha growl, he forced his fingers into the seam and pried the doorsapart just enough to slip through.
Smokedrifted in the corridor. Emergency lights flickered. The air tastedmetallic.
“Medic!We need a medic over here!” someone shouted.
Acrewman dragged another officer away from a sparking panel, bootsscraping across the deck. A fire suppression system misfiredoverhead, spraying a burst of white foam before sputtering out.
K’Sighmoved through the chaos, steadying a panicked ensign who nearlycollided with him.
“Easy,”he said, gripping the young man’s shoulders. “Breathe. Thenmove.”
Hehelped another crewman to their feet before pushing onward.
Theturbolift sparked violently — offline. He took the ladder wellinstead, climbing up two decks in seconds.
Anothertremor hit. He nearly lost his grip.
“Holdtogether, girl,” he muttered to the Camelot. “Just holdtogether.”
Hereached the bridge deck, shoved the hatch open—
—andstepped into chaos.
Aconsole exploded the moment he entered, showering sparks across thefloor. Two officers pulled a limp body away from a station, shoutingfor medical.
Thebridge was a storm of alarms, smoke, and shouting.
AndK’Sigh, breath ragged, eyes burning, stepped forward into the fire.
