In the fourth year of its ongoing mission, the Strange New Worlds writing competition has once again sought out exciting new voices and imaginations among Star Trek's vast galaxy of fans. After scanning countless submissions for signs of style and originality, the judges are proud to report that the universe of amazing Star Trek writers just keeps expanding.
Strange New Worlds IV features more than a dozen never-before-published stories spanning the twenty-third and twenty-fourth centuries, from the early days of James T. Kirk and his crew to the later generations of Captains Picard, Sisko, and Janeway. These memorable new tales explore and examine the past and future of Star Trek from many different perspectives.
Join Strange New Worlds in its thrilling quest to uncover the most compelling Star Trek Þction this side of the Galactic Barrier!
This anthology of original fan fiction is good news for anyone who's memorized videos of the original Star Trek and its increasingly attenuated descendants; it gives more chances to watch favorite characters cope with time travel, tribbles and all the other usual gimmicks. For everyone else, the book is less cause for celebration, since understanding, let alone enjoying, the stories depends on not just knowing the characters in general but also remembering specific episodes or scenes. The writers' ingenuity is challenged as they speculate on the consequences of some detail while staying within the established history of the several series and movies. In fact, it is good to see more of the Star Trek crew. They're good people to be with especially, sometimes, the non-humans. In the original series, Gene Roddenberry created an extremely attractive vision of a future in which ingenuity, empathy and adolescent enthusiasm could solve almost any problem. We remember those stories because we want to believe the message. The sequels are somewhat more mature and less enthralling. But fans like those new characters, too, and don't want to see them hurt, just challenged a bit to let them show what they can do. That's what the stories here mainly offer. It's not a contemptible purpose in writing, but the results are rather odd: fiction that's attractive not in spite of but because of readers' knowing how it will come out. (May 8) FYI: As with the previous three volumes in this series, a contest determined the contributions. Copyright 2001 Cahners Business Information. -- PUBLISHERS WEEKLY.
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Pocket Books/Star Trek
May 01, 2001
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Excerpt from Strange New Worlds IV by Dean Wesley Smith
From Strange New Worlds
A Little More Action
It was raining hard that Friday in the City by the Bay.
So hard, in fact, I couldn't even hear myself walk.
Their sun had taken a powder behind some pretty ugly clouds. And I was taking a beating -- a wet beating.
I flipped up the damp collar on my trusty, tan trenchcoat and pulled down the brim of my hat. It didn't help much, but I didn't care.
This case had taken me across half the quadrant and to dozens of planets. What was a little rain compared with what happened to me on Sigma Omicron VII? I could still feel the lumps on my noggin from that place.
But no matter where I went, each time he had managed to stay one jump ahead of me.
Sure, I could have tried the direct approach, but I didn't want to give myself away. My business with this guy was private. The stakes were too high and if word got out what I was doing a lot of people could get hurt -- mainly me.
My briefcase was getting heavier by the minute. But I wasn't getting paid to complain. I had business to attend to -- big business.
And the sooner I unloaded the goods, the better. I was getting five hundred a day, plus expenses. But all that money wouldn't mean much if I ended up at the bottom of a river, or on the wrong side of a shuttlebay door.
Then I saw it. The place looked like a cement flying saucer.
The rain kept most of the people away, but not me. I double-checked the heater I was packing and headed for the front door.
A couple of uniformed goons gave me the once-over -- twice.
I went up to the desk and there she was -- a hot, blond, blue-eyed number in a red uniform. She had legs all the way up to her hemline -- and then some. And I could tell there was more than hair spray between those ears.
Before I could open my mouth, an alarm went off. I reached for my piece, but the goons were too fast for me.
One of 'em grabbed my heater. But he just started laughing and handed it back to me.
"Sorry, sir. We thought you had a weapon."
What'd they think it was -- a peashooter? I put the piece back into its holster, straightened my coat, and looked back at the beautiful doll. She looked up at me with them big baby blues and said, "May I help you, sir?"