Star Trek Voyager Novels & Stories

I saw a family that had finally stopped waiting for the end of the world. Vespera was waiting at the base of the ramp, her golden spear driven into the stone. She didn't bow, but she touched her forehead in the Vanguard’s sign of ultimate respect. "The scouts have retreated to the Oort cloud," she reported, her voice carrying over the fading howls. "They saw the Command Vessel fall. For now, curiosity has been replaced by caution. You’ve bought us a window of peace, Elena." "A 'Glass Peace,'" I replied, looking up at the sky where the debris of the Hunger still glittered like jewels. "Beautiful, but easily shattered."

Determined to be heard, the prospector fell to his knees and went to work. * * * Though still capable of movement, the scout was severely damaged. The artificial intelligence knew that, and took approximate steps. A signal went out, took thirty-six standard time units to reach its destination, and was taken under consideration. The reply was clear: "Region the fleet". The scout broke orbit, accelerated away, and entered hyperspace. The Vamoos waited till the predator was gone, fired his sublight drive, and began the long journey home. It would take the better part of three unproductive years. The Committee would be most unhappy. Far/Fetcher sighed, adjusted his various bladders, and began a

The cabin’s temperature plummeted as Elena’s consciousness surged through the submersible’s systems, fighting for control against the intruder’s signal. "It is a fortress of dead dreams, Alexander," Elena’s voice whispered, sounding distorted and strained. "It is running on 'Cold-Core' logic pre-Architect protocols that were supposed to be impossible to stabilize. It doesn't have a soul, but it has a memory. And that memory is... hungry." A docking bay at the front of the harvester slowly ground open, revealing a cavern of dark, pressurized water illuminated by flickering sodium lamps. The Vanguard-1 was being pulled in by a magnetic tether. There was no resisting it.

"She hunted them. Look at the puncture marks. Those aren't from asteroids." The suspense reached its peak as a "Spectral Signature" appeared on the hull-sensors. Something was moving through the graveyard—a creature of pure, condensed shadow that didn't follow the laws of biology. It was a Void-Stalker, the planet’s "Immune System," sent to reclaim the matter that had escaped its surface. "It’s not attacking the hull," Vane reported, her voice trembling. "It’s... it’s feeding on our resonance. It’s eating the Synthesis!"

Nevan said. "What are you thinking?" I asked. "The Syndicate ships... they all have 'Distortion-Drives,' right?" Nevan asked, looking at Vala, who was currently appearing on the holographic comms from her own carrier. "Yes," Vala replied. "Standard-issue for hiding in the nebulas. But they won't hold up against a Harvester’s sensor array for more than a few seconds."

Together with the new avid viewers of the broadcast that just stayed on their seat with an intention to just watched the entire thing as this is the only time where they can watched such a marvel technology were on use, another type that did not steer far away from the Holographic broadcast projector area is those that has the family that are working on that Voyage that is currently on working. One of these kind of people, is Mrs.Lokara Deepmines, she is a 60 years old Dwarven housewife, that took the advantages on the broadcast news to sell her own crafted beers to the viewers and also keep an eye to her husband, which is also a Sergeant in the Aeternum navy, Mr.Rogar Deepmines, who is a sh

The Stellar Voyager didn't officially exist. A private cargo freighter registered under a shell corporation Harrison had scrubbed clean; it was a rust-bucket graveyard of shipping containers and diesel fumes. But to us, it was the only way across the Atlantic. We were five days into the crossing. It was during one of my late-night sweeps of the vessel that I heard them. Raya and Jax were tucked away in the engine room, a space usually reserved for maintenance but repurposed as their personal armory. I paused outside the heavy steel door, my senses sharp.

It was a romantic anchor, a promise that no matter how many light-years they traveled, the heartbeat of the Silver Moon would always be their North. The departure took place at the high orbit station above the lunar colony. The expedition vessel, named the First Mother’s Breath, was a masterpiece of quartz, silver, and liquid fire. As the triplets and Lyra boarded, the entire planetary grid surged with a supportive frequency. "Initiating Warp Shift," Toby announced, his voice steady as he entered the high resonance state.

"But the Hearth remains. The Vessel is still warm." She saw a clawed hand—black, obsidian, and multi-jointed—reach out to a glowing control panel. The ship was a Scavenger-Dreadnought (a large alien vessel designed to strip-mine dead civilizations). It wasn't here to harvest DNA; it was here to eat the "Scraps" the Void had left behind. "Elara!" A hand slammed into her shoulder. The vision shattered like dropped glass. She collapsed onto the hot asphalt, gasping for air. Kazimir was over her, his face a mask of frantic concern. He didn't use words; he simply gripped her forearms, his strength acting as a Neural Anchor to pull her back to the present.